by Lopez, Rob
The undead were filtering back into the street.
Breht shrank back as another passed close by. Looking back towards the pharmacy, he tried to see if Cobb was there. The front of the store was empty, however, which meant Cobb was still in the back, and he wouldn’t necessarily know that the zombies had returned. Breht sheathed his sword and took up his rifle, quietly snicking the safety off. If he witnessed a zombie entering the pharmacy, he’d have to shoot it, because there was no other way of warning Cobb.
All hell would probably break loose then. In the meantime, however, the street was filling up, and Breht realised he was stuck.
You idiot. Now what?
He was wondering exactly that when he heard the shot – an echoing boom from inside one of the buildings. At first he thought it was Cobb, but the zombies were more certain of where the sound came from. They began hurrying towards the supermarket. A runner came by Breht’s position, legs pounding as it galloped to the latest promise of food. Breht sighted his rifle on the back of its skull and fired, putting paid to its hunger forever.
With his position given away, he darted out into the street, shooting other zombies as he made his way to the supermarket. Dispatching another runner, the bolt on his rifle locked back, indicating an empty magazine. He didn’t have another. Dropping the rifle on its sling, he drew his sword and ran into the supermarket.
The store had been looted even more comprehensively than the pharmacy. Adjusting his eyes to the gloom, he climbed over the fallen racks. “Zak? Nobby?”
No reply, but Breht heard gunfire coming from outside the back of the building. Hastening through the No Unauthorised Entry door to the storeroom, he tripped over a pair of legs on the ground.
It was Nobby. He was slouched against the wall, clutching his stomach.
“Nobby! You okay, mate?”
Breht dropped down to his side, straight into a pool of blood. Nobby, his eyes wide, clenched his jaw hard, fighting back the pain. Breht pulled the hand away from the stomach and saw the wound.
It wasn’t a bite, however. It was a gunshot wound.
“Nobby, what happened?”
Nobby couldn’t talk. Breht knew that stomach wounds were the most painful, and realised he didn’t have time for an investigation. He placed Nobby’s hand back across the stomach.
“I’ve got to get you out of here, mate. Can you stand at all?”
Nobby feebly shook his head. The gunfire outside was getting more frantic now.
“Okay, don’t worry. I’ve got to carry you, okay? This is going to hurt, but I’ve got to get you out of here.”
Breht proceeded to lift him, but Nobby screamed out in such agony that Breht was forced to let him down again.
A clatter from inside the store alerted Breht to danger. Leaping up, he saw a zombie scrambling to get over the debris. In its desperate haste to get to the source of the scream, the zombie all but flew at him. With his sword held high, Breht skewered the zombie’s face, pushing the blade in as far as the hilt. Twisting the sword, he swept it out through the top of the creature’s skull, kicked the toppling body and ran back to Nobby.
“Nobby, you’ve got to stand. We’ll try again. I’ll help you.”
Nobby was breathing in short gasps. “My legs... can’t feel them.”
Breht noted the splash of blood on the wall behind Nobby. The bullet had gone straight through. If it had hit his spine, it meant he was paralyzed from the waist down.
“Fuck it, mate. I’m going to carry you.”
Nobby put out his bloodied hand, tears of agony running down his cheeks. “Kill me,” he begged.
Breht’s mind was in turmoil. He knew he couldn’t get Nobby out, and the zombies were closing in. He’d never make it to the castle. And barricading himself in the store wasn’t going to work for long either. Nobby’s life was leaking away.
He didn’t want to behead him either.
And where the fuck was Zak?
Breht put his hand to the revolver – the cursed revolver. He once thought it would take his life next, but apparently there was someone else in line.
“I’m sorry, mate,” said Breht, drawing it out and aiming it.
Nobby held his breath, nodding his head. “Watch out for yourself,” he gasped. “He’s crazy.”
Breht paused. “Who, Nobby? Who?”
Nobby sobbed, folding over with the pain, and Breht realised he was just prolonging his agony.
Because he knew who.
The pistol exploded as he squeezed the trigger, and Nobby’s skull blew open.
The door into the back alleyway opened and Cobb entered. He saw Nobby’s body flop over, and the pistol in Breht’s hand.
“Jesus, what’ve you done?”
Breht closed his eyes, breathing hard. “I had to finish him off. Like Harris. He couldn’t make it.”
“But why?”
Breht turned to face him. “Somebody shot him. Paralyzed him. And I think it was Zak.”
Cobb stared at him for a second. “Okay, mind blown. But we’ve got to get out of here. They’re piling up back there and I can’t hold them off.”
Breht pocketed the pistol and clambered through the mess in the shop. Cobb followed him. Down the street, near the pharmacy, was Zak, calmly beheading zombies.
“Zak!” shouted Breht.
Zak turned. Dispatching the nearest zombie with an almost nonchalant sweep of the sword, he jogged back towards Breht and Cobb. “Where were you?” he called. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Breht watched him approach and touched the handle of his revolver. He had one bullet left in it, and for a minute he was thinking of exactly who should have it.
Zak caught the movement and slowed his approach. “Where’s Nobby?” he asked.
“Didn’t make it,” said Breht, watching Zak’s face closely for a reaction.
Zak appeared to be doing the same with Breht, and remained deadpan. “We’ve got to go.”
“I agree.”
“Did you find what you wanted?”
“I think so.”
“Guys,” said Cobb nervously. “We need to move.”
Zak looked behind him. The zombies were closing in. He turned back to Breht. “He’s right.”
“I can see that,” said Breht.
Zak glanced at the revolver, then at a side street. “I suggest we go that way.”
“Fine. You first.”
Zak gave him a stony look, then took off down the street. Breht and Cobb followed him.
The town wall loomed up ahead. A scattered grouping of zombies stood in the way, and Zak cleaved through them. Breht joined in, and both swords rose and fell in unison as limbs were hacked and skulls sliced through. When they reached the steps to the wall, they ran up and fought their way to the castle. Breht ascended the rope last, and when he got to the top he saw Zak walking away along the battlement.
“Zak! Hold it there.”
Zak didn’t alter his pace and Breht took out his revolver. “You stop right there or I’ll shoot.”
Zak stopped, turning slowly. “So. It’s come to this, has it?”
Breht swallowed. “I’m afraid I have to. Drop your weapons.”
Zak glared for a moment, then unstrapped his sheathed sword and placed it on the walkway.
“The rifle too,” said Breht.
“It’s empty.”
“No doubt, but drop it anyway.”
Zak unslung his sniper rifle and laid it against the wall. “Happy?”
“For the time being.”
“So what happens now?”
Breht wasn’t really sure. “I just need to know the truth.”
Zak laughed bitterly. “The truth? You don’t have a clue. Well here’s a truth for you. I trusted you. I gave you more than I’ve ever given anyone else. I loved you. And the truth is, I was a fool.”
He turned to walk away.
“We’re not done, Zak.”
“I am,” said Zak. “Jennifer needs me.”
/> Breht dithered for a while as Zak entered a tower, then let out a deep breath, awkwardly pocketing the revolver. “Cobb, grab his stuff and keep it safe.”
“Okay boss,” said Cobb, picking up the sword and rifle.
Breht turned to lean on the battlements, looking out over the green hills. Spots of rain fell on his face, and he stayed there for a while as the heavens opened.
36
Brooding in the church tower, Breht failed at first to spot the movement in the smoking ruins of the castle opposite. A distinct, purposeful movement, quite unlike the meanderings of the zombies. A figure emerged, sword in one hand, rifle in the other, moving cautiously at first, then running. The rifle cracked, and the figure began fighting its way up the sweeping path that led to the walled tower.
Breht looked down at the grounds surrounding the church, and made rough calculations. The zombies crawling out of the graveyard were little more than dessicated corpses. They weren’t moving fast. Breht raced down the steps and burst out of the front door of the church.
He couldn’t see the figure now – the remains of the castle wall blocked his view – but he could hear the rifle fire. Leaping over the gravestones, he shoved aside torpid zombies and dashed through the church gates onto the road. Zombies who were heading to the gunfire turned too late as he barged through them, hacking and slicing. Hands reached out to grab him as he passed, jagged nails scraping across the leather armour. A crawling zombie locked its jaws onto his steel toe-capped boot, and he slammed the sword point down through its skull. Another fell onto his arm, rotten teeth cracking the hard leather plate, and Breht punched its face, leaving its teeth embedded. Elbowing his way out of the crowd, he sprinted to the open castle gate, past the tourist signs and the decorative iron cannon. Inside the castle grounds, the zombies shambled up the path, ignoring their fallen brethren. Breht ran among them, kicking some off the path and down the wooded slopes. With a two-handed grip, he drove his sword into bodies, the blade slicing through rib cages and spines. He was no longer concerned with killing them completely. He simply needed them out of the way. The Katana swept left and right as legs and arms were severed. Yard by yard, Breht gained his way to the summit of the path. A wooden gate was set into the wall at the top. Breht beheaded the two zombies pushing at the gate, pushed down the iron gate latch, and let himself in, slamming the gate behind him.
Before him lay a cobbled courtyard, and a small, conical-roofed tower. At his feet lay a blood stained sword identical to his own. And in front of him was the man he’d been pursuing for the better part of a year.
37
Breht tossed the revolver onto his blankets. He’d moved back into the king’s tower and a cold, damp wind blew in through the latrine chute in the wall. Through it Breht could see the rain lashing the water of the river. The crab-eating zombie was gone, probably joining his brethren gathered at the gates. Most of the zombies had freed themselves now, the mud loosened by the constant downpours.
“Everybody’s waiting for you,” said Cobb, behind him.
“I’ll be down in a bit,” said Breht.
Shivering, he chewed on his nails. His clothes were soaked through.
“You sure you’re okay?” asked Cobb.
“Yeah. I... just need a few minutes.”
He stared down at the pistol. Had he thrown it down to avoid the temptation to shoot himself with it? Or was he just afraid of it? Holy crap, if someone had told him a couple of months ago that he would be shooting Nobby in the head with it, would he have felt so bad? Hard to tell. And if someone told him a week ago that he would be pointing it at Zak?
He wasn’t sure which felt worse, but he could feel the wrenching inside, like he was being torn up.
Had he really loved him? In any meaningful way? And if he hadn’t, why did he feel he’d just taken a wrong turn? Not just off the map, but off the whole fucking universe?
“You want to talk about it?” persisted Cobb.
“What? No. Just... forget about it.”
Cobb gave an exasperated sigh. “They’re getting wet down there.”
Breht frowned. “Okay, okay, let’s get this over with.”
With the chapel off-limits, there was nowhere else to gather everyone for a meeting, so they were standing outside the tower entrance in the inner bailey, waiting for Breht to descend like some king condescending to meet his subjects. Breht didn’t like the idea of being anybody’s king, so he stepped out of the tower entrance and into the rain with them. There were only about fifteen people left who could still walk, and half of them were children. Breht looked into their haggard faces.
“I won’t keep you long. The children can come in and sit on the steps if they want. They can hear us from there. From the rest of you, I need your opinions.”
The children were ushered in out of the rain and they arranged themselves on the spiral stairs. Normally that would be a cue for them to mess about, but today, even they looked serious and subdued.
“You all know the situation here. Now, it’s been put to me that some of you think we should leave and find someplace else. What’s the consensus on that?”
“We can’t leave,” said Filipova firmly. “We have sick people here.”
“They’ve got the plague,” said one woman.
“They are still human, and we owe it to them to care for them as best we can.”
“And afterwards?”
“I cannot answer that. We are doing what we can, and I don’t think you should write them off so quickly.”
“Wasn’t writing anyone off,” grumbled the woman. “I’m just thinking about the rest of us.”
“Okay,” said Breht. “Isaac, what about you?”
Isaac was an elderly gentleman. A retired farmer, he used to be friends with Colin. He shrugged. “I was talking about that subject with Cobb there. I mean, I listened to his opinion, but I’m not committed either way. There might be some places we can go, up in the hills, farms and the like, but it’s too late to grow anything. And I don’t know how we can get there. I mean, we’re surrounded, and I don’t know how good I’ll be in a fight now. When I was younger, maybe, but now...” He trailed off into silence.
“That’s all right,” said Breht. “And it’s a good point. We’re nearly out of ammo, and we’ve got few weapons. If we had to move, it’d be a complex operation, but if that’s what everyone wants, I need to hear it.”
“Are you suggesting we should plan to leave?” said another man.
“I’m not suggesting anything. I want to listen to your views.”
“And what’s your view? I mean, you’ve been out there. Give us some advice.”
Breht winced. “I’m not sure I’m the best person for advice. Zak’s the best person for that.”
“Yes, but he’s not in charge now. You are.”
“And isn’t it true he murdered somebody?” said another.
“Wait, wait,” said Breht, shaking his head. “I’m not in charge.”
“I think you’ll find you are,” said Filipova.
“Well... it’s just temporary. This isn’t the right way to do it. And as for the murder charge, that might be a bit extreme.”
“You said...” began Cobb.
“I know what I said. And I was upset, okay? But I wasn’t there, and Nobby was unable to talk about it before... before he died. And it was me that killed him, right? I put the last bullet into him. So does that make me a murderer too?”
“You put him out of his misery.”
“But he was alive before that. In a court of law, that would have made me the murderer.”
“This isn’t a court of law,” said Filipova, “and you’re being too harsh on yourself. Zak is the one under suspicion here, not you.”
“Yeah,” said Breht, “but what if he shouldn’t be? What if what happened with Nobby was self-defence? Make a face if you want, but I don’t know, and neither do you.”
“You mentioned a court of law,” said Isaac. “Why don’t we have a tr
ial? Right here?”
“Because our only witness is dead,” said Filipova, “and the forensic evidence is out there with the undead.”
“But at least we can try. Maybe he’ll confess.”
“Why are we wasting time with this?” said Cobb. “It’s obvious he did it, and we don’t have a prison to put him in, or anything. We should be planning how to get out of here. We’re in the shit and we need ideas. I don’t know why anyone’s talking about fighting their way out when we can just leave via the town wall. Then instead of dropping into the town, we drop on the other side and head up the hill. It’s not that hard.”
“For one or two people, maybe not,” said Breht. “But for this group, with children? Where are we going to scavenge for food? What’s over that hill? What about at night, when they’re drawn to us?”
“Then lets plan for that.”
As they were talking, a solitary figure with a blanket over its head shuffled towards them across the courtyard. Breht’s hand strayed to his sword as the shambling woman with a pale, drawn face drew closer.
It was Jennifer, but he wasn’t sure whether it was the actual Jennifer or... another kind of Jennifer.
The figure opened its mouth, revealing crooked teeth and a receding gumline. Then it spoke. “You traitors!”
Everyone turned.
“You ungrateful, cowardly traitors!”
“There’s no need for that, Jennifer,” said Breht.
“You,” she screeched, pointing a finger at him. “He trusted you. He loved you. Who do you think you are to judge him?”
“Nobody’s judging anybody.”
“Then why does he feel abandoned? Why has he been abandoned by you? You, of all people.”
“It’s not like that, Jen.”
“And the rest of you. Why are you talking of running away? Zak took you in. He guided you. He fed you. He sacrificed himself for you instead of just thinking of himself. Where would you be without him now? Dead! That’s where you would be. And don’t tell me you don’t know it!”
Breht pushed his way through towards her. “Jen, we’re only discussing things. No decisions have been taken, and you can contribute if you want, but calm down.”
