Heal the Sick, Raise the Dead

by Jacob Prytherch

  I turned the corner of the station onto the small driveway. There was only one corpse obstructing me but it was in the centre of the road, between the red brick wall of the police station and a low wall overlooking a passageway that ran around the back of the shop next door. It was facing me and as I drew closer it raised its arms, slowly and surely, in that strange salute of desire, that warning sign that they all were honourable enough to give before lunging towards the living. Its cloudy eyes were swivelling wildly, its thin face becoming even less human in the lessening light. It was as good a time as any to test the shield, so I pulled it into my chest, hoping for my body to take the initial impact away from my shoulder.

  I struck the corpse hard while it was in mid step, easily throwing it off balance as it tumbled away from me. It struck the low wall as it span, tearing the flesh of its stomach under its ragged shirt and spilling black liquid alive with maggots. I followed up quickly, bringing my heel down hard on the corpse's head. The impact was enough to crack the skull and splash what remained of a brain out onto the tarmac, however the force I put into my kick threw me a little off balance, as my other foot slipped on the gelatinous remains of the stomach. I fell loudly, the shield clattering against the wall. My shoulder screamed at me but I gritted my teeth, pushed myself back to my feet and moved onwards. No matter how much I tried I was never as smooth and never as assured as Marcus when putting the dead down. Somehow embarrassment burned in my cheeks as I jogged towards the high street, as if he were watching my efforts, laughing at my hesitation and my second guessing. Perhaps he was, as the shadows were lengthening, creating many dark corners for the demon-man to hide in. I could almost see his red eyes burning from every doorway, every window, watching me clumsily continue in my fruitless effort to be a hero.

  The street was alive with dark shapes, as if the dead were being drawn out into the blackness of night by something. Perhaps those who still possessed sight saw the faintest movement of the other dead across the street and made for it, only realising as they drew closer that it was simply another member of their own new, decomposing race. At a basic level, there were still so many similarities to us. Weren't we all simply a set of systems breaking down over time before something vital eventually gave out, bringing it all to a halt?

  I was sure I had parked the car near to the station but when I spotted it to my left the distance seemed huge, filled with the milling bodies of the dead. It was at least twenty yards away, with five or six shops standing between me and our salvation. My heart sank, panic rising as I ducked back behind the low wall, cherishing this small moment when I was unseen and unheard, hiding in the wings before my performance, preparing to go out, centre stage.

  (Do you want his help?)

  No. This was my duty. I couldn't hesitate. I needed to think, to use the one advantage I had – my mind – and the ability to predict outcomes, the ability to analyse.

  The shop to my left was a toy shop judging from the stock that had spilled out into the street. It seemed people had even needed toys as they scrambled to escape, perhaps to keep their children quiet. A crying child would obviously draw unneeded attention. I didn't want to think about the possibility that some had chosen the other option, leaving their child behind to ensure their own survival...

  I pushed myself over the wall and picked my way quietly past the window and into the doorway. The nearest dead were only a few metres away but they hadn't spotted me, not yet. Inside the shop the darkness gathered, casting twisted shadows on the scattered remains of board games, jigsaws, dolls, figures and books. I had to be quick, as I couldn't be sure that the building was clear. The shop stretched back beyond the spread of light from the windows, rows and rows of items that may never see their purpose fulfilled. Would there ever be a child again? It would be hard to justify bringing a new life into a world that had become such a shadow of its former self, a tangle of terror, disgust and the worst that humanity had to offer.

  I skirted around the mangled front display of the shop and found what I was looking for, the pre-school section. Rifling though the half open boxes and broken plastic I finally found something useful. It was a toy red bus, about a foot long and covered with various buttons in the shape of numbers and letters, made of the strong sturdy plastic necessary for a toy that would be played with by heavy handed toddlers. Thankfully the toy shop had sold batteries too and even though the display had been emptied by the panicking looters, I found an unopened packet amongst the mess of cardboard and broken toys on the floor. When I had put them into the battery compartment, the bus lit up with multicoloured lights that illuminated the face of the corpse that was now only ten feet away, having crawled through the toys to get to me, its legs a mass of bones and half eaten tendons. I hadn't heard it over the noise of my own scrabbling in the shop's contents. Now it was upon me, its teeth and festering tongue making nauseating retching noises as it slid towards me, leaving a trail of brown fluid in its wake.

  I turned to run but after a momentary rush of panic, I stopped, holding the bus in one had as the lights of the toy winked on and off, ready to carry out the task I had in mind. The creature, though rotting and hideous... was small. Its arms were able to pull along the remains of its shattered body but only just. It was now closer but was struggling to get over a mass of fallen dolls, scattering the small plastic bodies with each laboured sweep of its battered and broken fingers. It was a child, smaller even than the one I had seen at the farm, perhaps no more than four. It was trapped here, crawling forever in a dark and silent toy shop, so weak, so young.

  My chest shuddered as I gasped, a sob moving through my whole body, a raw sound of absolute sorrow. It was not just for the child, it was for everyone, a pitiful salute to the dead, no more useful than all the words I could use to express it. It meant nothing to those who had gone but still I gave it, my body unable to resist the force as my soul screamed.

  Grunting with effort, I lifted the nearby till over my head before driving it down hard, giving the child the only gift I could, rest, amidst a shower of coins, plastic and metal.

  The sound of the crashing till had piqued the interest of a few of the closer dead but I was ready to put my plan into effect and needed no more time. I pressed a few of the buttons on the side of the bus, mashing them with my palm as tears ran down my face, before hurling it low and hard across the road with all my strength. It clattered across the pavement on the far side, coming to rest at the feet of three corpses and lighting up their greenish skin with blues and reds as it loudly called out the names of various letters of the alphabet, farmyard animals, and numbers. The effect was almost instantaneous. The closest corpse to it bent down awkwardly and closed its dead fingers around the middle of the plastic toy, pressing more buttons as it lifted it in front of its face to bring its dead eyes to bare on this curiosity. Even in the encroaching darkness I could see all the nearby shapes hurrying as fast as their dead bodies would allow towards this new and interesting spectacle. In a few moments the street had started to clear, as the dead had clustered so deeply around the toy that I couldn't even see the lights any more.

  I stayed low and watchful as I headed up the street towards the car, ever mindful that the hordes of corpses always had stragglers, although in this case it seemed as if I was lucky, reaching the car with no issues. I unlocked it carefully and slid into the driver's seat, tossing my shield into the floor of the passenger seat. I released the handbrake and opened the door a little, jumping out for a second to push the car into a rolling start before getting back in. It started to pick up pace, rolling down the street towards the police station. I turned the wheel quickly, letting it roll into the driveway, where the momentum carried it a little further, just far enough so that it rolled into the car park. I managed to turn it towards the back entrance but there wasn't enough momentum to take it past the doorway, as I slowly came to a halt about fifteen feet away.

  I opened the car door and slid out quietly, keeping an eye on the shapes at the far corner o
f the car park. So far they hadn't approached, as the low crackling sound of tires on tarmac hadn't been loud enough to attract them. I slid along the back wall slowly, hugging the brickwork before getting to the door and rapping it cautiously with my knuckles.

  There was no answer. I waited a few moments before trying again. Still no answer. The only sound was the continuing howls of the dead, rolling from wall to wall, covering the town in a blanket of cries that mirrored the silent scream of foreboding that began to fill my mind. Something had gone very wrong.

  9

  The Night

  I waited for a couple of minutes before raising my hand to try again, when some instinct at the back of my mind stopped me. Instead I unstrapped the helmet, removed it and bent my ear towards the door, listening for any sounds within. I needed to place hand over my other ear but it soon became clear there were voices, quite muffled but clearly raised in emotion. I tried the door handle and it was still unlocked, so I pushed it inwards. Inside, several of the candles had burned down and gone out, as replenishing them had not been very high on our agenda when we were getting ready to leave. In the faint remaining light I could see the two bodies in sheets still by the door but no one else. I crept inwards, after closing the door carefully behind me and locking it. The last thing I wanted was another attack from the dead.

  The voices were coming from the corridor that led towards the cells. I couldn't make out any of the words but there was no mistaking the urgency. I stayed close to the wall, pulling the extendible baton from my belt and swinging it once. The tubes slid out perfectly, making a low metallic noise as they did so.

  The voices stopped.

  I froze, not sure of what to do next, eventually deciding to double back and circle around from the other direction. I moved as quietly as I could in the armour, slipping into the reception where the low light revealed the corpses of the fat man, Vince and Jason, all slowly growing cold. As I passed through the room I stopped, something not sitting properly in my mind. It took only a moment for me to realise that Freddy was gone. Marcus must have only knocked him out with his repeated savage blows.

  I scanned the reception desk. There were still several weapons there but I had no idea if there was one missing that had been there before. I thought about swapping my baton for one of the assortment of rusting knives and farm tools but they were weapons better suited to Marcus, not me. I continued on, baton in hand.

  I slowed as I neared the cells. The doors were all shut, though I was sure that we had left at least one of them open when we had investigated them. I scanned the corridor but the candles had all gone out here, the only light being a little glow that crept though the window of one of the cell doors. I drew closer to it, my footsteps sounding like a cacophony in my ears in the otherwise silent corridor. When I was next to the door, I glanced through the window to be greeted by the sight of Eliza, Arthur and Juliet, all tied and gagged around a couple of lit candles on the floor.

  The click was quiet but loud enough for me to hear it.

  I turned quickly, catching some of the shotgun blast across my stomach, feeling the burn as bits of shot made it through the stab vest as I fell backwards. Through a haze of shock I saw a shadow at the far end of the corridor detach itself from the wall before moving approaching. It was still indistinct but was clearly Freddy, carrying the shotgun that I had been foolish enough to leave behind when I had left to get the car.

  The boy had seemed a bit out of place in the station from the beginning, not as gleeful in his violence, instead simply following the other's lead. He had waved those knives around as if they were going to bite him in the hand.

  I found I was thinking strangely clearly, realising I had one chance and I had to pray that Freddy's vision was just bad enough in this light for it to come to fruition.

  As the shadow drew closer I stayed as still as possible, trying desperately to ignore the pain that was lashing a belt across my torso. Now he was closer I could hear his footsteps padding methodically across the carpet and hear his breath wheezing a little through his broken nose. I held my breath, feeling my lungs shudder with the sensation of hot coals as he moved closer again, slowly, agonizingly ponderous.

  Finally he was close enough. I squinted at him through half shut eyes as the black shadow pulled the gun to one side and bent towards me, scanning my features for a sign of life.

  I swung the baton as hard as I could, up and around into the side of the youth's head, sending him reeling. The shotgun went off, scattering plasterboard harmlessly across the corridor, as at last I had the upper hand. I wrapped my arms around his body as he struggled, trying awkwardly to press my advantage home. It was messy, laboured and ungraceful, a fevered conflict in the dark and silent corridor, the only sounds being the grunts of effort as he tried desperately to push me off. He was young, fighting me with all his youthful fervour, even though he was always at a disadvantage as I pressed down on him, eventually managing to lever my forearm across his neck.

  I felt him gasp as he tried to draw air into his lungs even though there was none to be had. I could barely feel his arms beating feebly against the armour. I could see the two polished white shoes standing just beyond his head, as clear as day, as bright as stars.

  I paused from shock, my arm still locked in place but no longer pressing down. As my gaze moved upwards I saw Perdita, as clearly as if she were in noonday sunshine. She was older still, perhaps even a teenager now. Her mouth hung open, huge and distended, the inside of it descending into darkness. Her eyes were fixed on me, black pinpoints in her porcelain skin. She waited.

  I looked down at the shadow that was Freddy, barely able to make out most of his features. All I could see were the whites of his eyes, wide with terror, wet with tears.

  “Do you want to die?” I asked softly.

  Freddy didn't respond, his throat making soft clicking noises as I felt it move under my forearm.

  “Do you want to die?” I asked again, louder this time. The repetition showed I was insisting on an answer. I felt him try and shake his head, unable to speak.

  I pulled my arm a little further off his neck. There was no danger of him overpowering me, I could tell from the pathetic movement of his limbs that his fight had left him.

  “After all you've done in here, do you think you deserve to die?”

  At my last question, his eyes froze, staring up at me without blinking for a few seconds, before they invariably turned away, glistening as his eyelids fluttered, shedding tears. Most people could never face what they had done head on. It was so... human.

  “Give me the keys,” I commanded. “The keys to the cells. Now.”

  He could barely move his body but had just enough freedom to point towards his jeans pocket, before bringing his hand back up to his head and lying in supplication. I reached into his pocket and found the small set of keys, before looking up, seeing the vastness of Perdita's maw as she stretched wider, the skin taught and thin as her jaw moved further and further down. The shadow inside was impossibly deep. There was no escape from that darkness.

  The youth squirmed under me as he tried to breath a little more. I looked down at him. What would Marcus have done? What would Cato have advised?

  “It doesn't matter,” I said as a silver tongue flicked the huge teeth of Perdita's mouth. “They're not here. I am.”

  I released my grip on the boy's throat and pushed myself slowly to my feet. My ribs were still aching but I felt alive as I saw Perdita close her mouth slowly, eyes narrowing, before turning and walking away, hands behind her back, fingers tapping against each other.

  The boy (for that was what he truly was now that I could see his face under the mass of hair, he was clearly no more than fifteen), sat back against the wall of the corridor as I untied the other three in the cell. I had told him not to move and for some reason he had obeyed.

  Juliet and Arthur were still as quiet as ever when I removed their gags but Eliza spoke immediately, her voice urgent. “Tie him up for G
od's sake, he said he was going to kill you!”

  She scrambled to her feet and pulled the rope that had previously held her from my grasp, before rushing out into the corridor and grabbing Freddy's shoulders forcefully, pulling him to his feet. She bound his hands as he stood almost motionless, only swaying a little when Eliza tugged the rope tight. When she was satisfied she pushed him forwards into the cell, before motioning for Arthur and Juliet to leave. She picked up the largest candle and made for the door, glancing back towards me as I stood looking at the boy who now seemed so small. It was true that his frame was tall, yet there was virtually no muscle there as he sat down awkwardly onto the floor, his shoulders hunched and his breathing still laboured as he forced it through his bruised windpipe and broken nose, which was still seeping a little blood from Marcus’ brutal attack.

  “Come on, we need to leave. It's night now, we'll have to use the headlights and that'll bring them quickly.”

  “We can't leave him here,” I said to her, pulling my eyes away from the pathetic sight. “He'd die, either from starvation or being eaten...”

  “He was going to kill you, remember?” said Eliza, coming back towards me, the reflection of the candle flames dancing in the pupils of her eyes. “He grabbed the shogun off that bag of yours and told us to get in the cell until he found you.”