What had happened was that somehow, despite missing the entire lower half of its torso, a Dead head-shoulders-and-one-arm trailing giblets over a reasonable distance had latched its teeth into the poor lad's calf muscle. The Dead already had an arrow through its head by now, it was no threat, but the kid was still wailing. Christ he looked young there. Lying in the mud and slime, bleeding from what seemed only a tiny bite, barely even a scratch. He looked up at me as I raised The Bommyknocker. From behind came a call to stop. It was Apocalypse Girl.
“How bad is it?” She asked me, rushing up from behind. She examined the wound carefully. The Kid looked up at me hopefully. “Looks like you got lucky, this is hardly bleeding at all.” The Kid bleated that it hurt. He sounded at least a quarter of his real age. She looked up at me. “Get him back to the barn. Hopefully what happened to Valet might not happen if we disinfect it in time.” Junior and I grabbed him, and together the four of us rushed back to the barn. The Twin elected to stay behind and make sure we get some clay sorted out.
noon
We got The Kid back to the barn in minutes. Apocalypse Girl rushed ahead to open the door for us, and call out for help. Kindly Lady hobbled out, wondering what the ruckus was. She blanched when she saw The Kid's leg, but she hurried us inside, into her own room that she shared with Fat Dealer. “Put him on the bed.” She ordered us, as Apocalypse Girl rushed off to gather the supplies we had picked up at the chemist.
Kindly Lady began prodding the wound, eliciting a scream of agony from The Kid, and Apocalypse Girl ran back in. Kindly Lady ordered Junior and I out as she and Apocalypse Girl began cleaning the bite wound. As the door closed, The Kid bleated one last time as Apocalypse Girl applied some iodine to the injury, then he lost consciousness.
mid-afternoon
Junior and I were practicing with our bows as Fat Dealer came barrelling down from the road in his Ute As he pulled up, Archer went over to explain the situation with The Kid. Apocalypse Girl came out to practice with us after they went inside, a grim expression on Fat Dealer's wide bearded face. She told me that The Kid seemed ok for now. The wound was clean and bandaged, and he had been fed a handful of antibiotics the moment he had awakened. The clay-gatherers returned while we practiced, with their guards. The Twin stopped a moment to speak with Apocalypse Girl and I.
“Those fucking idiots should know not to watch the girls collecting the clay now, and keep their eyes on the perimeter...” She said. “They are meant to be guards after all.” She then picked up a spare bow and began firing arrows one after another directly into the bullseye. There were ten grouped around the center of the target in a tight ring before she realised that everybody had stopped and was staring at her. At that moment the arrow she had knocked, ready to loose, went flying off into the distance. Then she focused once again, shutting out all distractions, and sent her remaining seven arrows directly into the middle of the target. Their tips were touching. The crowd watching burst into spontaneous applause, whooping and cheering. Most of us were lucky to hit the target itself more than seven out of ten arrows, though Apocalypse Girl and I were improving swiftly.
evening
Around the dinner circle, Kindly Lady gave us the news of The Kid's condition. He was stable, for now, a little feverish, and the infection was minimal, but he had an appetite, so one of his fellow guards brought food into him, and kept him company for the evening. After a while he came out, looking relieved, spoke briefly with Fat Dealer, who handed him something, and then ducked back into The Kid's room.
Some other younger members of the commune decided to hang with The Kid while he was recovering, and after dinner the joint Fat Dealer rolled was shared only by Kindly Lady, Apocalypse Girl, Junior, Archer, The Twin and myself. The musicians were practicing over in the corner, and we quietly talked among ourselves. Apocalypse Girl asked Fat Dealer where it was he had gone. He told us that he was trying to locate some of the local farmers, as nobody at the commune actually knew anything about animal husbandry, other than keeping chickens. He managed to find someone who was on their way, would be there tomorrow, apparently. Kindly Lady also told us, when Junior asked, about the two she had sent out scouting the day before. We needed to know if there were any other survivors around, she told us, so that we could band together with them and become stronger as a result. Seems a reasonable idea to me too, thinking about it that way. After all, when the Dead are walking don't we Living need to stick together?
Everybody seemed fairly hopeful, thinking that maybe the worst was over, we might be able to even make a decent life for ourselves out here, provided we can acquire the right people. We were relaxing, Apocalypse Girl and I considering retiring, debating whether we need worry about keeping a separate watch among the two of us now that we have gotten to know these people when The Kid staggered out of his room gasping for help before collapsing immobile on the floor.
Immediately Archer and Junior sprang into action. I grabbed the closest weapon to hand, Valet's old crowbar, and followed them into the room. Five youngsters had gone into The Kid's room, all but one still in death, vomit covering all of their chests. The one was beginning to move, until Archer put a shaft through his head. Junior and I proceeded to make sure the others stayed dead, my crowbar sticking messily into the skull of my second.
The Kid, it turned out, was still alive, and was recovering from whatever had happened. He was saying that one of his friends had handed him a joint, telling him that since he was injured, he got to light it up. Everybody had a decent toke as it was passed around, and as the last one in the circle was handing it back to The Kid, the first to take a toke started coughing far too hard, eventually vomiting, as the second began coughing, and as the third started coughing, the first was dead. The second vomited, and then the other two began to cough and chunder as well. The Kid decided that was a good time to get help, but he was having trouble breathing. He made it out, and as we were crushing his friends' skulls he was being given mouth to mouth by Kindly Lady. As he was telling us this, he looked gratefully in her direction, as did we all, just in time for us to see her collapse to the floor, convulsing. She died horribly, clearly in great agony, and not a single one of us could do anything about it.
We were all too stunned to do anything about it, until Apocalypse Girl splattered her brains all over the floor with The Bommyknocker.
January 8th Year 1 A.Z.
dawn
We buried our dead as early as we could manage. The Kid had volunteered himself for quarantine, as clearly he must be infected, since he inadvertently caused the death of six of his fellows. He looked almost completely healthy to me, however, but I was there last night, I saw what had happened, dealt with the consequences of it. The mood surrounding the entire compound was depressing. Junior and I still had a patrol that morning, but due to the funeral we got that started a little later than usual. As we left, The Twin followed, snatching up a bow and handful of arrows, asking if she could join our patrol. Wordlessly we agreed, and the three of us began our rounds. Apocalypse Girl was busily organising a work party to collect some more clay, while she and Fat Dealer fashioned them into bricks. The two guards that survived yesterday's complete fuckup were far more alert this morning, and as we approached the riverside we saw that things were finally proceeding properly.
One of the girls that was there yesterday walked past us, smiling encouragingly at The Twin, as she pushed a wheelbarrow full of clay over to where Fat Dealer and Apocalypse Girl toiled. She looked up from her work to see me, and waved. I waved back, and she went back to it. We continued our patrol.
As we arrived back at the barn, Archer was leading another pair of reasonably good bowmen out on a backup patrol, in the reverse direction to ours. Seemed like a good idea.
noon
After a quick lunch, archery practice. The Twin spent most of her time trying to put into words exactly how she manages to focus on her targets, but it was lost on the two of us. Junior was still much better off with his club, but
I was improving fairly quickly. All twenty of my arrows found the target at least, one or two might have been considered decent shots, had The Twin not been watching.
“We need more than just round targets.” She was saying at one point. “Maybe someone can find a few shop mannequins or something like that. Something vaguely human shaped, at least, so we can all practice head shots.” She was right about that one. My two decent shots were both far enough apart that a head could easily fit between them. Or two. “Even human shaped wooden mock-up targets.”
“Good job those things are slow, though,” Junior said in response. “Means someone who sucks as badly as I do still has half a chance if one gets close enough...”
“Unless they're quiet about it, then you're fucked.” Archer interjected, scaring the shit out of all three of us, as he had stalked up silently behind us as we trained. “Anyway, you're right about the targets. I was already thinking about some mock-ups, maybe even rig something up that moves. Gotta give you a challenge, don't we?” He winked at The Twin, and left in the direction of his shed, greying ponytail swinging in his wake.
evening
Back inside the barn, just as the sun began to set, Apocalypse Girl was telling us that they had already made a few hundred bricks and we could begin construction on the new wall in the morning, provided we could keep up the same rate of collection we could be done in just a few days. Fat Dealer was almost silent during her report, but said that we needed any spare wood from the fence that is replaced for the animals. As it was they had been tied up on the far side of the cemetery from the river, but already the bull had broken free twice and two cows had fled.
Junior checked on The Kid, and reported that he was looking and feeling fine, at least physically. Emotionally he was a totally wreck. Hardly surprising, all things considered. His leg was not exactly healing as it should, but neither was the infection spreading. Even so it seemed that somehow he could infect others with his saliva. This was disturbing, but other than that he seemed perfectly normal. Fat Dealer told me that he had seen enough death recently, and though he had loved Kindly Lady, he knew it wasn't The Kid's fault she had died. So, it was decided that he would be released, and even put back on guard duty. He looked grateful that he was not going to be punished for their deaths, and swore that he would do his best to protect everyone in his care from now on. Fat Dealer nodded, then handed him a massive machete that he had picked up on his latest scouting effort. I was suddenly struck with the parallel images of Fat Dealer and The Kid, overlaid with a mental image of King Arthur knighting young Sir Percivale. This vow The Kid would keep.
That image made me think of another very important aspect of medieval knights. I pulled Archer aside and hurriedly muttered one word to him. He stopped, staring off into the distance, and nodded, obviously coming up with a plan already. We needed some kind of armour.
January 9th Year 1 A.Z.
dawn
Another dawn patrol with Junior and The Twin found us walking the perimeter while a strange car came up the path to the road. Junior suggested that it was one of the farmers that Fat Dealer had gone to find the other day, which seemed fairly likely. In any case we were distracted by Apocalypse Girl who came running from the direction of the river, shouting that we needed everyone NOW!
Rushing off to the river, we saw that the pair of scouts that Kindly Lady and Fat Dealer had sent out the other day had returned, bringing company with them. Not exactly the sort you would invite to dinner though, more the sort that would insist on eating the host if you did. The two guards from the other day, and The Kid were already firing arrows into the thick of the host, most turning the leading row of Dead into pincushions, putting two or three down, but doing no real damage.
I shouted out that they needed to pick their targets, and the massive horde of Dead turned slightly towards the noise. An arrow flew past my head, to drive deep into the skull of a Dead shambling in my direction. I ordered The Twin to hold back and keep firing, while Junior and I together with the other guards kept distracting them with sounds. As they were nearing the clay pits, it seemed a good idea to utilise the terrain to our advantage. By the time Archer's patrol arrived and Apocalypse Girl had returned with reinforcements from the barn we had a third of the horde down, with the rest quite well stuck in the mud.
“Well done, live target practice!” Archer exclaimed loudly when he arrived. This caused the Dead nearest him to attempt twisting in order to get at him. Several of these simply fell over, some catching others on their way down. If not for the horrific stench and the fact that these things wanted to eat us it would have been really quite funny. As it was we took Archer's advice and used the stuck Dead as targets.
The scouts, now that their collective bacon had been saved, reported that they had not been able to find much in the way of supplies, but they had found a ridiculous amount of salt left in several of the shops they had raided. As I wondered why that might be useful I heard one of the cows lowing.
The newcomers from the farms, who had arrived in the car, also joined us by the river, and introduced themselves. One woman, two men had come in the new vehicle, the younger of the men a butcher, the older a farmer by long standing family tradition. Farmer claimed that the woman, barely out of her teen years, was his wife, while eyeing the other local girls carefully. Butcher eyed the animals just as carefully, and asked me if we had a slaughterhouse that we were using. I told him that we didn't, at least as far as I knew, have one, and to see Fat Dealer about it. He nodded, saying that he assumed I was in charge because I was the one barking orders in defence of the commune. Archer, coming past at that moment, laughed and told him that I was new, but unofficially in charge of defence of the community. He also said that a slaughterhouse was a brilliant idea, and that then, with a couple fewer cows, there would be hides available to make some form of personal protection from. Farmer's Wife squeaked in a tiny voice that she knew a thing or two about working with leather, and that she would help. Farmer looked pissed at that. Apparently he doesn't like his tiny young wife talking to people, or offering to help, but clearly he knows the situation well enough by now to know that we all need to pull together to get shit done.
noon
After lunch was more archery training. Archer had indeed made a few humanoid looking targets and put them at various distances down the range. The Twin was already teaching others how to shoot properly, some of them were finally beginning to show some real promise. Fat Dealer came out to check on a few issues while we were training, and he told me that Farmer had given him detailed instructions on exactly how to care for cows and sheep, and Butcher was training up a couple of apprentices, including Junior. The Kid had wanted to learn, but decided it might not be a good idea. He didn't want to run the risk of tainting the meat he worked with. That meant he spent most of his time either at the archery range or down by the river guarding the one weak spot in our defences. The wall was progressing faster than expected, we now had a solid half-metre thick, one and a half metre high clay barrier halfway around our perimeter. High enough for us to see and shoot over, and high enough that any Dead that get anywhere near the wall itself would have a great deal of trouble getting over it. On the other hand, if needed, any of us could easily enough jump over it. All we need now is a gate to the dirt track leading to the road and we're set.
“Just do me one favour,” Fat Dealer said as he was leaving. “Stay away from that young girl with the old farmer. He doesn't like her talking to anyone, if you know what I mean.” And he walked off towards Archer's shed.
evening
Dinner was fucking amazing tonight. Roast mutton was a rare treat in this age, and we all feasted like it was our last night on earth. Farmer sneered at the dessert joint that Fat Dealer rolled and passed around, refusing even to touch it in order to pass it onwards, and when his wife took it, put it to her lips and inhaled deeply, he snatched her by the arm and marched her off to the room they had been allocated to share. Even though it was halfw
ay down the barn, upstairs, and the door had been slammed shut behind them we could hear Farmer yelling.
I sighed, and stood heading upstairs to try and defuse the situation. Apocalypse Girl and The Kid followed me.
In most normal circumstances I would have knocked, but in this instance I just walked through in time to hear the words “I'm sorry, Daddy” trickle out of the poor girls split lips. I wasted no time at all, grabbing Farmer by his shirtfront.
“Listen,” I told him. “I don't give a flying fuck what you did at home, or before the Dead started coming back. None of that shit matters now, the only thing that does is staying the fuck alive. Whatever we do for relaxation here, is our fucking business. Do you see any law enforcement? Maybe you'd be a little more fucking relaxed if you joined us too, rather than judging and condemning us for it. We welcomed you into our community you piece of shit and one of the few rules that you have to follow is being fucking polite and decent to everyone else here. That includes her!” I pointed to his 'wife' “And it is my job to protect the people here. That includes her too. Protect the people,” My finger shifted from his wife to his chest. “From any and all threats.” His face paled.
Anno Zombus Year 1 (Book 1): January Page 3
