by David Moody
40
Harte, who’d been waiting just outside the unguarded caravan for Lorna to return, saw that she was running back toward him. He immediately opened the door and began to usher the other people who’d been in there over to the truck. There was another seven of them crammed in there. Five emerged immediately and without question: Bob, Zoe, Phil Kent, Charlie Moorehouse, and Driver, quickly followed by young Aiden, holding on to Sue’s hand as they ran together across the gravel courtyard.
“There’s room for a couple of you up front with me,” Harry hissed at them as they reached the truck.
“Are they going to be all right in there?” Harte asked, watching as the last of them disappeared into the back.
“They’re going to have to be.”
“There are more people up in one of the other caravans,” Lorna explained. “I’m going to get them out.”
“I’ll go with her,” Harte told him. “Michael’s waiting up by the gate. He’ll open it as soon as you start the engine.”
* * *
Michael stood by the gate, squinting into the gloom, trying to make sense of everything he couldn’t see. He pressed himself up against the wall, doing all he could to melt into the shadows. Once he was satisfied the coast was clear, he reached up and ran his hands across the heavy wooden barrier until he found the crossbar Harte had told him about. It didn’t seem to be secured at all—just resting in a pair of metal brackets, one at either end. After checking again that he wasn’t being watched, he lifted it up and moved it away. He then grabbed one of the ropes on either side of the gate and pulled it gently, just to see if it would open. The bottom of the gate moved slightly, scraping along the gravel. He cringed at the noise it made and froze again until he was sure he hadn’t been heard. Nothing. No sign of any movement. He looked back across the courtyard toward the caravans. The ends of the long white metal boxes were clearly visible in the moonlight, and he could just about see a couple of figures moving between them.
But then the fragile silence of the night was shattered.
A sudden burst of noise came from one of the buildings close to where he was standing: someone hammering on the door to be let out, screaming with anger. The door of another of the caravans flew open almost instantly, and several men sprinted out into the open, illuminated by the light flooding out from behind them. They ran toward the source of the noise. Michael stood his ground and remained perfectly still, watching as Lorna and Harte slipped into the open van.
* * *
“What’s going on?” Caron demanded as Harte shook her shoulder. “Harte, is that you? I thought you’d gone again…”
He dragged her up but she lolled back onto the sofa where she’d been sleeping, an empty bottle of wine rolling around on the floor below her. Howard, by contrast, was immediately up and ready.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“We’re going.”
“Where?”
“Day trip to Blackpool,” Harte answered sarcastically. “Where d’you think we’re going? This bloody island we’ve been hearing about, I hope.” He leaned out the door, hoping to see either Michael or the headlights of the truck, but he quickly pulled his head back in again when he saw Will Bayliss running across the courtyard from the direction of the gift shop, carrying Kieran’s rifle and pulling on his clothes. Melanie followed close behind, hoisting up her knickers.
Lorna had gone down to the far end of the caravan and had worked her way back up, checking the bedrooms and small bathroom for others. She’d found Shirley cowering in one of the bedrooms, no one else.
“This it?” she asked.
“Just me, Shirley, and Caron,” Howard replied. “Are you surprised? Don’t forget, Jas, Kieran, and Paul were in here. Funny how most folks preferred the van next door.”
* * *
The noise coming from the prefabricated rooms nearby and the excitement it had caused was enough to make Michael decide to change his plans. He’d managed to get both sides of the gate open without being noticed. A handful of corpses had attempted to stagger in, but the frost was gripping and they were so badly decayed that they only lasted a couple of paces before collapsing. In fact, he realized, their forward movement was due more to the fact the gate they’d been leaning up against had moved than anything else.
Michael started to run toward the caravan but then turned back and tucked himself in against the wall when an armed, half-dressed man he didn’t recognize thundered past.
Over in the farthest corner of the castle grounds, Harry sensed that something was wrong. He could see people crisscrossing the courtyard in the moonlight, but from here he couldn’t tell if Michael or Harte were among them.
“Anyone you recognize?” he said to Bob Wilkins who was sitting next to him in the front of the truck.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Bob whispered, “but that looks like Kieran. He’s one of Jas’s lot.”
Harry waited a few seconds longer before deciding he had to move. He started the engine and accelerated out into the open, trying to get close enough to the caravans so that Harte and the others could make the quick short dash to safety. He could already see that the gates were open.
* * *
Shirley barged closer to the caravan door.
“Is that for us?” she asked, pushing past Howard and Harte when she saw the truck’s headlights approaching. Harte tried to grab her but she was too fast, slipping between them and running outside before stopping in front of the truck and waving her arms wildly. Harry slammed on the brakes and she ran around to the back where Sue was calling out to her. Lorna ran out to follow her but then ducked down and turned back when a gunshot rang out. In the emptiness of the night it sounded close but unnervingly directionless and she dived for cover, falling back into the caravan.
“We’ve got to run for it,” Harte said, helping her up. “We’ve got to get on that truck.”
Outside he could see Bayliss trying to head off the truck now, reloading the rifle as he marched toward it.
“Go!” Howard yelled, trying to push them all forward. “Just get out of here!”
Another gunshot echoed around the castle courtyard, this time hitting the front of the truck and smashing a headlamp. Howard tried to lead them out of the caravan but Kieran appeared and blocked him, pushing them all back inside. He was armed too.
“Stay here,” he warned, making sure they all saw his gun. “Don’t any of you move a bloody muscle.”
* * *
Under fire, Harry had to make a split-second decision: get some of them out, or none. He accelerated toward the open gate, churning up plumes of gravel and dust behind him, swerving around Bayliss, who was struggling to reload again. He headed straight for the exit, then ploughed deep into the sea of semi-liquid flesh outside the entrance to the castle. Fighting to keep control and struggling to see anything with only one headlamp, Harry drove out into the dark.
* * *
Lorna pressed her face against the caravan window and watched the truck’s taillights disappear from view. Behind her, Kieran blocked the door.
That’s it now, she thought sadly. We’re truly fucked.
41
“One of you get the gates closed,” Jas ordered as he tried to force the kitchen door open, “and put a fucking van in front of it to stop any other fucker getting out.”
Paul Field immediately jumped into action, keen to get away from Jas more than anything else. Melanie watched from a cautious distance as Jas shoulder-charged the door again and again. Inside the kitchen, Ainsworth tried to kick his way out in the gaps between Jas’s attempts to batter his way in. Eventually, between them, they’d done enough damage to the door to be able to get it open. Ainsworth staggered out into the café, as unsteady on his legs as any of the dead. Melanie shone a torch in his face and grimaced. He was badly bruised, one eye swollen shut. He dropped to his knees in front of Jas and spat out blood.
“What the hell happened to you?” Jas demanded. “Who di
d this?”
“Lorna,” he replied, barely able to speak her name.
Jas turned and glared at Melanie. “Find her.”
“But she’s probably gone—” Melanie started to say.
“They can’t have all got out. Get the rest of them rounded up.”
* * *
“So that all went well,” Kieran said. “Nice rescue attempt.”
“Fuck you,” Harte spat at him. “We got most people away.”
“But not all.”
“There’s still time,” Lorna said. “Jas can’t keep us locked up in here.”
“Seems to me like he’s going to try,” Kieran replied, looking through the window over Lorna’s shoulder. “See that? He’s got someone blocking the gate with a van.”
“Well, that’s us screwed then, isn’t it,” Howard moaned.
“Not quite,” Kieran said. “There’s another way out.”
“Bullshit. You’re taking the piss,” Harte said quickly. Forgetting himself, he squared up to Kieran, who didn’t react.
“How do we know you’re not pulling a fast one on us?” asked Howard.
“You don’t. Now shut up and get out of sight. Someone’s coming.”
There was a sudden scramble as people disappeared into other rooms in the caravan and hid under beds. Lorna crouched under a melamine table in a cluttered dining area and listened as Kieran went outside. She could hear him talking, and she could hear Melanie’s voice too.
“Nah, I’ve checked in here,” he said, “it’s empty. They must have got away in that truck.”
“Jas is going mental. He’s scaring me, Kieran.”
“He’s been scaring me since it all kicked off this morning. Stick with Paul and Will and you might be okay.”
“You sure they’re not in there?”
“I’m telling you, Mel, this caravan’s empty. I was going to try around the cesspit next. Thought I heard people around there just now.”
Lorna heard footsteps moving away, then Kieran returned to the caravan. She poked her head above the table and he beckoned her out. She hissed for the others to come out from their hiding places too.
“So where’s this other exit?” Lorna asked. “I’ve never seen it.”
“How did you get in?” Howard asked Harte.
“We came in over the wall. Harry, the guy who just took off in the truck, was into rock climbing and all that stuff. The rope’s probably still there if you fancy it.”
“No need for that,” Kieran said. “There is another way.”
“Why should we believe you?” Lorna said. “You’ve been up Jas’s backside for days. You’re just bluffing…”
“I know how it must look, but I was just covering my back, that’s all. It seemed to make sense to stick close to the guy who was making most noise.”
“We can argue about this later,” Harte said. “Where’s this way out?”
“I’ve been here since the start,” Kieran explained. “I found this place on the morning everyone died and I decided to stay here. I didn’t think you could get anywhere much safer than a bloody castle.”
“So? Get to the point.”
“So there were only a few of us here to begin with, and we thought we’d got the place completely sealed off. But we were just sitting there one day, and Jackson appeared from out of nowhere.”
“How?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He found another way in. He got in through the bloody dungeons.”
“Okay, so how do we get out?”
“The exit’s at the back of the gift shop. Follow me and I’ll show you.”
42
Kieran led the others across the courtyard in darkness. Harte had barely taken two steps out of the caravan when someone grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. It was Michael.
“Thought you might have been on that truck.”
“No such luck,” Michael replied. “What’s going on?”
“The guy up front is Kieran,” Harte explained. “He says he knows another way out of here.”
“And can we trust him?”
“Don’t see as we have much choice right now.”
The small group—four men and two women now—walked across the courtyard rather than ran, taking a wide, indirect route to avoid Jas, Ainsworth, and the others, most of whom were gravitating around the van now blocking the gate. The door to the gift shop had been left open by Bayliss and Melanie when the sudden movement of the truck had abruptly interrupted their lovemaking.
“Who the fuck’s this?” Kieran asked as they crowded into the gift shop, Michael bringing up the rear and closing the door behind him.
“I’m Michael,” he said. “Pleasure to meet you too.”
“Michael’s the dad-to-be from the island,” Harte explained.
“Then what are you doing here, you muppet?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same question,” he replied. “Now where’s this exit?”
“In here, somewhere,” Kieran said unhelpfully as he began searching through the few boxes of supplies which had been left in the gift shop. He found what he was looking for on a shelf—torches. It didn’t matter that they were novelty kid’s torches made in the shape of castle turrets, as long as they worked. He handed them around, then distributed packs of batteries from a wall display behind a long-unused till. Lorna was the first to get hers working. She shone it around the various faces.
“Michael, this is Howard, Caron, and Kieran.”
“And you’re all that’s left here now? Harry got the rest of you away?”
“As far as we can tell. I think everyone’s accounted for.”
“Too late now if they’re not,” he mumbled as he went deeper into the shop. “Now what exactly are we looking for?”
“Some kind of door, I guess,” Kieran explained. “All I know is that Jackson got in this way.”
“And you never bothered to look for it before?”
“There wasn’t any need. No one was trying to get out of the castle until your lot turned up in your bloody helicopter.”
“Fair point.”
They split up and scoured the walls of the cluttered room. In the months since the castle had first been used as a base by survivors, the gift shop had been used for a variety of reasons. Bayliss and Melanie’s love nest apart, people had dumped rubbish here, used it to store less useful items which had been scavenged (Michael noticed a couple of flat-screen TVs) and, judging from the smell, someone had used this place in favor of the chemical toilets too.
“There are catacombs and dungeons here, you know,” Caron said suddenly.
“What?” Michael asked.
“Ignore her,” Howard said, “she’s half-pissed.”
“I might well be,” she continued, “but I’m not stupid. I tell you, there are dungeons and all sorts under this place.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I’ve spent hours and hours pretending to clean the museum, remember? I saw some displays.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this?” Lorna said in disbelief.
“I didn’t think it mattered. Like Kieran said, we weren’t planning on leaving until a couple of days ago.”
“Wait,” Michael said, “this guy Jackson. You said he came into the castle through here?”
“Yes,” Kieran replied. “Why?”
“Because if that’s the case he probably got in this way.”
Michael flashed his torch at a door he was standing next to. It had a large NO EXIT sign in the middle of it. They’d all glanced at it, but the penny hadn’t dropped. They’d been looking for a way out, not a way in. Jackson had been coming the other way. His entrance was their “no exit.”
“Must be it,” Kieran said, reaching for the emergency access bar right across the middle of the door. He pushed it down and the latches opened. Michael slipped his fingers around the edges and between them they pulled the door open. A blast of cold, musty air hit them. Michael shone
his torch into a small room which looked like it had been carved out of rock.
“We need to get moving,” Howard said nervously. “I think they’re coming this way.”
“Go for it,” Michael suggested. “Even if we just end up hiding in here for a couple of hours, it’ll do.”
He led them down into the confined space; Harte and Kieran close behind, Howard, Lorna, and Caron bringing up the rear. The temperature felt ice-cold.
“Fuck me!” Harte cursed. “Jesus!”
Michael turned around quickly to see what it was that Harte had seen. It made him catch his breath too. A painfully thin, ghostly white body was shackled to the wall. Lorna sighed.
“Harte, you’re bloody useless,” she said. “It’s a bloody dummy.”
“How was I supposed to know? Christ, what kind of place has fake dead bodies chained to the walls?”
“Castles with dungeons,” Caron said. “I told you I saw displays. It was part of some kind of ‘be a smuggler’ attraction, I think.”
“Be quiet and keep moving,” Michael said, leading them toward another door.
“Go through?” Kieran asked, pointlessly.
“Unless you’ve got a better idea?”
Kieran tried the door and it opened. He cautiously entered a narrow passageway which sloped downward and which curved away to the left. He kept walking, suddenly a reluctant leader, shuffling his feet along the ground, unsure of the slope. This passage too appeared to have been carved out of the rock and supported with rudimentary brickwork. The miserable light from their torches now illuminated only a fraction of the narrow space around them, just a patch of the walls and the low ceiling. It felt almost unbearably claustrophobic; even sound felt restricted and trapped here, echoing quickly, unable to escape. Kieran’s already slow pace slowed further as nerves set in. He held his torch in one hand and groped his way forward with the other.
“Shh…” Harte said suddenly, grabbing Michael’s shoulder. “Stop!”
They immediately froze, walking into each other and bunching up in the narrow confines. They all became completely still, their collective breathing the only sound.
