Killing The Dead | Book 21 | The Journey Home

by Murray, Richard

  More importantly, she would need the vaccine that would prevent people from turning into zombies when they died. A vaccine that I knew worked well for it had been injected directly into my heart by its creator as I lay in a bed, dying.

  I caught sight of Gregg walking along in silence beside me and pursed my lips as I considered. He hadn’t realised yet, but there was no way that he could return to the island either. If he did, it would raise questions about how he survived, and he was too decent a man to be able to lie well enough to keep my surviving secret.

  Which meant that at some point, I would need to have a conversation with him that he might not take too well. I almost laughed at that, as once upon a time I would have given no thought to how he would take the news.

  How things had changed.

  Abigail walked beside Gregg, eyes round with wonder and curiosity as she studied a world she had not seen for far longer than Gregg or I. Locked in the bunker beneath the ground, not quite realising what her company had done, she was just a medical student who had accepted a job a short time before the apocalypse happened.

  While I didn’t particularly care for her, I suspected that I could trust her to lie well enough to convince Lily and the others that she came from a smaller Genpact lab and came in peace, offering a vaccine and a weapon against the undead.

  That could work.

  “Up ahead,” Gregg said, raising one arm and pointing.

  I followed where he indicated and gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement. A small bridge across what a faded and weatherworn sign proclaimed to be Regent’s Canal. Old graffiti, so worn as to be barely recognisable, covered the brick walls at either side of the bridge and above it to the left, was the steel bridge of the railroad that crossed over it.

  “We’re on the right track then, yeah?” Abigail asked, looking over at the two of us.

  “Looks like it,” Gregg agreed. “Mean’s the map’s we printed off were right.”

  “So, are we going to use the tracks?”

  Gregg looked at me then too and I lifted my shoulders in a shrug.

  “It’s as good a way to go as any. Least if we stay on the tracks’ we won’t get lost like we could on the streets.”

  London was a big place. Victoria had purposefully dug the tunnel so that it came out as far from the blast site as possible and, as testament to her planning, we had come out on the very edge of the rubble-strewn crater that had been created as the bomb collapsed the topmost levels of the bunker and a sizeable portion of the surrounding city.

  Even so, we would likely be a couple of days at the very least walking through the abandoned city before we reached its edge. Twelve miles or so, by my rough calculations, and we were intentionally setting an easy pace for we had a long way to go. Which meant two days at a minimum, but likely three.

  Just before the canal, there was a banking that led straight up to the tracks, although it would be a steep climb. The wire mesh fence that had prevented access had long since fallen down and, most likely, by a horde of the undead chasing some poor sod.

  At the top of the banking, I stopped and planted hands on hips as I sucked in a deep breath of the clear air. For years we had endured the re-circulated stale air of the bunker and before that, every breath had been tainted by the foul stench of death. It was a novelty to breathe clean.

  “Shift aside,” Gregg muttered, pulling himself up next to me.

  He turned and held out a hand for Abigail as she pulled herself up, almost on all fours. I ignored them as I studied the path ahead. Grass and weeds covered the tracks which provided far too much cover for my liking, but it was something I would need to get used to. The whole world would be the same.

  We walked for some time along those empty tracks. The trees that grew alongside them not quite able to hide the sight of the empty buildings sitting beyond. Their windows were dark, the rooms inside devoid of life.

  Abandoned buses and trucks sat forgotten in depots and the roads were packed full of cars, most covered in the dirt and grime of seven years or more in the open. It was hard to imagine those desolate streets having ever been full of life.

  Even one as emotionally stunted as me could feel the oppressive weight of the silence of a dead city. No raised voices or obnoxious music, no vehicles travelling almost constantly ferrying people and goods from one place to another.

  As the day began to darken, no lights appeared in windows and it was in that silence that we came to a stop at a small station. The sign read Hackney Downs station and was little more than a covered platform and stairs leading down to the street below.

  The corrugated steel of the roof had collapsed in places and foul-smelling water had pooled on the platform; the stations drains long since having given up. I climbed onto the platform and looked warily about as the others joined me.

  “Someone forgot their luggage,” Abigail said, grinning though it seemed strained. She too seemed to feel that oppressive weight.

  “Likely killed as they tried to flee,” I replied and watched the grin fade away. “Doubt it will hold anything of use but feel free to look through it.”

  Abigail’s cheeks heated and she turned her face away as she said, “I’m good.”

  With a shake of his head, Gregg crossed to the stairwell and peered in. He clucked softly as he pulled out a torch that fit comfortably in his hand. He flicked it on and shone it down into the tunnel before shaking his head once more and moving away.

  “No way down.”

  “What’s blocking it?”

  “A whole load of suitcases and trolleys,” he said. “Guess someone tried to block the way behind them. Not sure how much it helped them, but it certainly makes it harder for us.”

  I dropped back down onto the tracks and hurried over to the railing. It was a good twenty feet down to the street below and there was no other way of getting down that I could see. I went back and re-joined the others.

  “We’ll shelter in the stairwell,” I said. “Two sleeping and one standing watch.”

  “Do you really think that’s necessary?” Abigail asked. “The zombies will all be dead now.”

  “Maybe.” I looked back the way we had come and then ahead, along the tracks that split a short way into the distance. “Do you really want to risk it?”

  She didn’t answer, just pulled off her pack and let it drop to the platform floor before sitting cross-legged beside it. Gregg joined her and I followed suit with my own pack. I pulled the map out of the side pocket before I settled myself down and spread it open before me.

  I studied it in silence for a little while before I gave a soft grunt of annoyance that had Gregg looking up from where he was rooting through his own backpack.

  “What’s up?”

  “We’ve only come a few miles,” I said.

  “How many is a few?”

  “Maybe two and a half, no more than three.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  I shook my head and his face fell as he said, “my feet hurt like we’ve gone twenty miles! We walked further than that when we had zombies everywhere.”

  “You were younger then,” Abigail said and ducked her head as we both looked at her.

  “What?”

  “It’s true.” Her tone was a little defensive. “Plus, you’ve been in the bunker for five years. Not like you did a lot of running or walking down there. You’re just not used to it.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yeah. We’re all going to have to be careful too.”

  “Why?”

  Abigail lifted her hands and looked around theatrically. “Not like there’s a hospital around and we’ve a long way to go through rough terrain.”

  “City streets are rough now?”

  “No,” I said, before she could. “Not usually but now they are. Plus, once beyond the city and out into the smaller streets and countryside, it will be worse. Everything will be overgrown, and many roads will be blocked.”

  “Why blocked?”

 
; “People tried to flee and caused accidents on the roads. Barricades were raised to hold off the undead and the water system and drains will have failed. Large parts may well be flooded. Bridges might have collapsed or been destroyed, and we have no idea what is out here.”

  Gregg chewed on that for a few minutes, brow creasing as he clearly didn’t like what he was hearing and he scowled as he asked, “anything else?”

  “Sprains and strains,” Abigail said, falling comfortably into her role as medic for our small group and speaking with confidence. “Blisters, cuts, grazes just for starters. If you fall and break a bone, then you will need weeks of rest to heal and we have limited medical supplies.”

  “Just what we can carry.” I slapped my pack and grinned. “We have barely a week’s worth of food and water too. The life-straws I packed will allow us to drink water without needing to worry about parasites or other nastiness, but we are going to have to conserve energy which means going slowly.”

  Gregg shook his head as he stretched out on the platform, expression set, and jaw clenched. He rested one arm on his raised knee and let out a sigh.

  “Two to three miles a day, huh? How far do we need to go?”

  “Around three hundred miles, give or take,” I said, grinning. “That’s if we go the most direct route from before the fall of the world. Now? You might want to double that distance.”

  He did the math in his head and I watched as his expression soured even further when he realised just how long it would take. Factor in the time needed for finding food and rest days and we would be lucky to make the journey in a year.

  “I just want to get home, mate,” Gregg said softly. “I want to hold my niece in my arms and hug my sister tight, you know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Man, I thought that when we got out, we would be almost home.”

  “We have a long way to go, but we can do it,” Abigail said, trying to lighten his mood. “I’m sure we can.”

  He didn’t reply and I felt no need to add in that we had left the bunker in the spring. It would depend on how the weather behaved but we could lose a large portion of the autumn preparing for a winter we would not be able to travel through.

  If everything went to plan, in a year’s time I would be close enough to the woman I loved and to my children, that I could almost reach out and touch them. For some reason I couldn’t truly understand, there was an ache in my chest at that thought.

  I settled back against my pack and looked out over the silent and empty city. Whatever happened, the journey had just begun, and we had a long way to go with who knew what happening as we travelled.

  One thing was for sure. It was better than being in the bunker.

  Chapter 3

  Despite my determination as I led that group of people, marching through the streets of Douglas, their anger almost palpable, I knew we could not fight the Dead. They were too well trained, and the people’s anger would fade as their blood spilt onto the street.

  Even so, that anger needed an outlet and the Dead were as good a target as any. So, I led them, hobbling, and helped by my friends, towards the sports centre that the Dead had made their very own.

  Bodies still hung from the streetlamps that lined the road, bodies moving slowly as the people hanged there had returned to life as zombies. A warning for the rest of the people on the island of what happened to those who resisted.

  An angry murmur ran through the crowd as a black-clad figure hurried over and I raised a hand as a few of the braver people surged forwards, calling out for calm.

  “He’s not an enemy!” I called, again and again until the crowd stilled.

  “How can you be sure?” Evie whispered.

  “Their badge.” I pointed at the black half of the yin-yang symbol on a white background that the approaching cultist wore on his arm. Those who followed Sebastian had a crimson background. “He’s one of Samuel’s.”

  Despite my reassurance that anger didn’t dissipate as the cultists came to a stop before me. He saluted, one clenched fist to his breast as he bowed his head.

  “My Lady,” his voice was muffled by the hood he wore, but understandable. “We are at your command.”

  “We?” I cocked a brow, as my lips twitched. Even with the hood, I could tell the cultist was young and flustered as he looked back over his shoulder and raised his hand.

  There, marching from a side street were the hundred or so faithful. A fraction of those who stood with Sebastian Cho, but a small army of well-trained and well-armed warriors who would fight and die on my command.

  Apparently.

  “We stand ready to serve,” the leader of the approaching group called out as they came close. A hundred voices repeated that cry and those around me shifted nervously.

  “How can we trust them?” Cass asked, pointedly ignoring the cultists as she looked at me. “This could be a trick.”

  Even though I recognised the voice of that leader as the one who had brought me the note from Samuel and helped me escape the confines of my apartment prison, I couldn’t help but feel the truth in her words.

  “It’s a valid question,” I said, eyeing him warily. “It doesn’t take much to change the colour of a patch on your clothes.”

  That leader of the cultists stepped forward and a few of those nearby bristled, hands curling into fists that they half-raised. The cultist didn’t even acknowledge that possible threat as he stopped several feet away from me and lifted his left hand.

  I watched curiously as he slowly pulled off his glove and there were a few gasps as his hand was revealed.

  “What on Earth?” Evie whispered.

  “All who follow bear this,” the cultist said, voice betraying no emotion. “All who bear it are those who served our Lord Death before he sacrificed himself for this world. This was our punishment for failing him. We shall not fail again.”

  I stared at the hand, remembering the first time I had found my beloved after we had parted. My surprise and utter dismay at finding him the leader of a cult and my shock as a man cut off his own finger at a command from Ryan.

  The cultist before me was missing the little finger of his left hand and as I watched in silence, each of those cultists behind him removed their own gloves to reveal the same missing finger. I swallowed back my horror and nodded at the man.

  “Very well, I believe you.” Hard not to when the crazy people are holding up their hands that were mutilated by order of the father of my children. “Report then.”

  “Perhaps three hundred went towards the docks,” the cultist said. “They boarded the boats at anchor there and set off.”

  I should have expected that. Of course, her would want to send some people to check on the situation. I was more surprised that he hadn’t sent all of his people.

  “The rest?”

  “In there.” The cultists tilted his head towards the sports centre. “They closed the doors behind them and will be covering the ways in.”

  “Surely they can’t be planning on staying in there forever,” Cass muttered, and I shook my head. Of course, they weren’t.

  “Guard all the exits,” I said, thinking fast as exhaustion and the pain of my wounds dragged me down. “No one in or out and no contact unless they speak first. If they do, send for me.”

  “Of course, My Lady.”

  “What!” someone cried. “You can’t trust them. Not after what they did!”

  More voices echoed agreement; their tone full of anger at the memory of the Dead’s treatment of the people during their time in power. I didn’t want to hear it, my own anger burning hot enough to scour the island clean of the cultists if I didn’t tightly control it.

  “No.” Just that, a single word said quietly but it cut through the raised voices and all eyes were on me. “We are not them. Those who brutalised this island are either in that sports centre or fleeing to the mainland. These here are our allies and will be treated as such.”

  I raised my head, looking around as I sought to
appear as resolute as I possibly could while supported by my friends lest I collapse at their feet. None seemed too eager to defy me, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before they did, so I pressed on while momentum was on my side.

  “Where is Samuel? Isaac?”

  My children?

  “They are safe,” the cultist said. His voice had no emotion behind it at all and if he were worried about the crowd, he wasn’t showing it.

  “Send someone for them.”

  “It could be a trap.”

  “So be it. I want them here. You need Samuel at your head, and I need Isaac here, with his security personnel.”

  “Your children too?”

  “Yes.” If he noticed the hesitation he didn’t comment, just raised his fist and two of his black-clad companions sped away from the column. I raised my voice. “Volunteers! Who will stay and guard this place?”

  To my surprise, a good number of people were ready to do so. Cass met my gaze with her own and she nodded, accepting responsibility for organising them. She turned away and I looked at Evie who was watching me with a concerned look on her face.

  “You need to go home.”

  “No, too much to do.” I closed my eyes for a moment, marshalling my strength. “Take me to the command centre.”

  The going was slow for my legs refused to work as I intended. Each step taken was small, my pace slow as my limbs trembled like those of a new-born foal. Evie didn’t comment, just held on to me as a few of the concerned townsfolk surrounded us, intending to be a guard of sorts. Though what they would do should some cultist jump out on us I couldn’t say.

  Word had spread quickly throughout the town and people were out on the streets, clustered together as they talked. The past year or so had been hard on them as the Dead led by Sebastian Cho had brutalised them.

  I would need to answer for that as it was my failings that had led it to happen. But first, I would need to ensure my people were rid of the danger in their midst.

  The command centre was much the same though busier than normal. Evie led me up the stairs as the rest of the people remained outside and at the top, we found Charlie waiting. From the sheen of sweat on her attendant’s brow, I imagined they had only just arrived themselves.