Killing The Dead | Book 21 | The Journey Home

by Murray, Richard

  That raised questions that I very much wanted the answers to, but not right then. First, I needed to rest and recover, so that I would be ready for when the other shoe fell.

  Three days later, I was still waiting for it and bored enough to venture out. My wound was healing nicely, the infection retreating at the cost of some of the antibiotics that Abigail had brought with her.

  I lifted my face as the warmth of the sun washed over me and I paused for a moment, enjoying it. Too many years trapped underground and then it had been either overcast or raining since. For the first time in many years, I could feel that natural warmth and actually enjoy it.

  “Good morning.”

  That momentary pleasure vanished as I opened my eyes and looked over at Alice, standing at the end of the garden, beside the road.

  “You were headed to see me?”

  “No, merely passing.” Alice glanced along the road to where the road split and a low red-brick building surrounded by an iron fence sat. “The children will soon be finishing their lessons and coming outside to play. It is always a joy to watch them.”

  I couldn’t see why it would be, but I wasn’t really in the mood to argue the point, so I merely shrugged and set off walking. Out of the garden and headed along the road with her following along beside me.

  “You are healed?”

  “I am.”

  “That is good. I prayed for you.”

  “Probably a waste of your time.”

  She eyed me askance, a smile tugging at her lips. “Possibly.”

  We walked on a little further together and I couldn’t help but wonder at her presence. She didn’t say much, just walked along beside me, hands clasped before her as she watched me with something like the look of concerned patience my mother used to wear.

  “Another day or two,” I said, breaking the silence. “Then I shall be well enough to leave.”

  The idea of more endless walking was unutterably dull, but less so than staying in the picturesque little village that seemed to have few issues.

  “I would rather you didn’t.”

  “Why?”

  “There are some people coming to see you.”

  I stopped then, before what had once been a village shop but had long since been abandoned. There were houses nearby with overgrown gardens and empty windows. No people, so I did not expect ambush, but even so, I let my hand rest on the hilt of my knife.

  “Who?”

  “They call themselves, Riders,” she said, eyes studying my face. “They pay a bounty for people like you.”

  “A bounty?”

  “Yes.”

  “Care to explain?”

  “No.”

  “Then why should I not just kill you and flee?”

  “That would be a mistake.”

  “It would?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  She was beginning to annoy me, and I could feel the urge to draw my knife and slice it across her throat grow stronger.

  “Because then you wouldn’t be able to kill them, Ryan.”

  Her lips made a small moue of disappointment when I didn’t react, though if she actually knew who I was, that should have been expected. I was sure that a more ‘normal’ man would have been alarmed by his secret revealed, but I was merely curious.

  “Who are you?”

  “You don’t remember me. I thought you would.”

  “Should I?”

  “I suppose not.” She smoothed down the front of her dress as I traced the contours of her face, trying to find some memory of who she was but coming up empty. “It’s a shame.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I thought we meant more to you.”

  Ah.

  “You were in Glasgow.” A guess, but one that I suspected would hit the mark.

  “A lifetime ago,” she agreed. “I was one of the first.”

  There was a faint stirring of memory. My time in Glasgow, before Lily had arrived, had been one of paranoia and sleeplessness. Our numbers had grown quickly with Samuel spreading the word and I had found myself surrounded by ever more people.

  My intention had been to gather those around me who would be loyal. They would help to keep me alive as I killed with an almost reckless abandon. Instead, I had been unable to trust them and had instead seen myself caught in a cage of knives, each one ready to cut into my flesh given the slightest chance.

  I had left their training to Samuel, and had interacted with them only sparingly, usually when I led them against the undead or the raiders that had infested that city. Back then, in the very beginning, Samuel had often told the newest recruits how much they mattered to me. A lie, of course, but one that made them feel special and loved enough to stay and do as I instructed.

  “You don’t seem to be wearing black.”

  “No, I gave that up.” Her smile had what I thought to be genuine humour behind it as she watched me without apparent fear.

  “Why didn’t you kill the Reaper?”

  Her laughter rang out setting the birds in the nearby trees to chirping in an irritating manner as I studied her, confused by the humour in what I had asked.

  “You have not changed, My Lord Death.”

  I definitely detected something other than reverence as she used that title, though I wasn’t exactly sure what it was. Perhaps, mockery?

  She shook her head, clearly grasping something that I did not. “Anyone else would have asked why I left, what happened to me, how I came to be here.”

  “Leaving a Reaper to kill those around you seems to be a more pertinent question.”

  “Perhaps.” Her smile did not falter as she shook her head once more, an errant strand of hair falling loose about her face. “But whether you asked or not, I feel I should tell you. I know you well enough to understand you won’t know why, but you do need to know.”

  My curiosity was piqued, enough so that I was willing to listen, though I had not yet decided whether or not I would kill her. She had been one of my followers, she knew who I was, and she was a threat.

  “Do you remember what happened in Glasgow?”

  I gave her a blank look for I wasn’t sure what she was trying to reference.

  “Back then, while the Reapers were closing in around us, their numbers growing as ours grew smaller, you made the decision to head out to the Island where your friends and lover were.”

  “Your point?”

  Her lips pressed firmly together in a tight smile as she looked at me, just for a moment before glancing away as though afraid of what she might see there.

  “Not all of us went with you. Did you know that? How some of us, wounded and afraid, were left behind.”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t deny it?”

  “Why would I?” Her eyes flashed with anger as I said it and I added a grin for extra effect as I made the decision, then and there, that I would kill her when the time was right. “We left those who were maimed by the claws of the Ferals and Reapers, the ones who were not expected to survive the journey.”

  “I was one of those left behind.”

  “Then I was wrong,” I replied with a low shrug, growing bored. “You should have come and joined us when you recovered.”

  Her hands clenched into fists and she sucked down a deep breath as she reached up to grasp the wooden cross that hung from a string she wore around her neck.

  “I survived!” Anger filled her voice. “Of the seventeen you left behind, only two of us survived and made it out of the city!”

  “The day we left, we vowed to never again serve you!”

  “Why me specifically?”

  “You left us!” She spat the words at me, accusatory glare cast my way with them, and I shrugged once more.

  “I thought you would die.”

  “That is your excuse?”

  “No, merely an explanation. I need no excuse for the actions I take.”

  Rather than the outburst I expected, she just stared at m
e, eyes not even blinking as she considered, but then finally, she nodded.

  “I guess you don’t.” A sigh then. “We were so angry when we left the city and we both headed south, looking for purpose. You had been everything to us. I don’t think you realised just how badly we needed someone to save us, then you did.”

  “Then I abandoned you,” I said with a small smile. “But you seem to have prospered and you have travelled a fair distance.”

  “We did.” She shook her head, dark hair falling freely around her face. “It was hard for a very long time. We were filled with such hatred for what you had done to us. For the lies we had believed about you.”

  “Eventually, I managed to release my grip on that hatred.” She tapped the wooden cross around her neck. “I found myself turning back to the church and when I ended up here, they had need of spiritual guidance and healing.”

  “So, it all worked out. Why then did you call these, Riders?”

  “Because they are a plague upon this land, and they need to be stopped. They come here, every few months, and take part of our harvest. They abuse the people, rape and violence is their preferred method of showing their power over us.”

  “Why have you not killed them? You were in Glasgow, so clearly I taught you how.”

  “I swore never again to take the life of another.”

  “So, you need me to do it?” I laughed then, openly mocking her. “Why should I care about these people when I have business elsewhere?”

  “Because you told us that you would kill to protect the living.”

  “This is true, and I will do so, but in my own time. I have other matters to attend to first.”

  Like getting a vaccine to my family so that they were safe.

  “I knew you were a liar!” she snapped. “Making us believe in you!”

  “Well, as fun as it’s been, I am done here.” My fingers curled around the hilt of my knife as I cast my gaze around, looking for witnesses. “I will leave today.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “I won’t?” I couldn’t help my laughter. “How are you intending to stop me then?”

  Her eyes flicked down to where my hand gripped my knife and I prepared to draw the blade. “By telling you the truth.”

  “And what truth would that be?”

  “You should have asked what happened to the other one.”

  “What other one?”

  “He left the city with me and while I cast away my anger, he holds it close still. One who was trained by you, fought beside you, and has a deep and abiding hatred for you.”

  Ah, crap.

  “Kill me now and a message will be sent telling him exactly who you are. At this moment he just thinks you are a potential recruit.”

  I released my hold on the knife hilt and let out a sigh. The last thing I needed was for an ex-cult member to be chasing me across the country with a small army of raiders at his beck and call. No, I would need to kill him and to do so I would need to ensure he was not warned of my approach.

  That meant I couldn’t kill Alice either.

  “Fine then, tell me what you know of him.”

  Chapter 14

  Seven weeks after we had left the bunker, I was still waiting in the village of Thornborough. Wherever the raiders were coming from was not close, and it was taking them some time to reach us.

  Life in the village was fairly mundane and followed the same daily routine. The small number of households were all around the church and on a morning, everyone would gather for morning prayers led by my former follower, Alice.

  After prayer, where they undoubtedly thanked their deity for sending me to aid them in their time of need, they ate a hearty breakfast in the gardens behind the church. The zombie apocalypse had left them with a need for the reassurance of others around them, and I saw that clearly as they ate their meals together each day.

  Of course, that also meant they only needed to have one cooking station fed by the wood gathered daily, instead of each household having to do the same. To my surprise there was actually a building set up for cooking which they used during the winter and colder days, but they tended to prefer to eat outdoors when they could.

  Again, another effect of the zombie apocalypse when they had spent their days hidden away in small and enclosed spaces.

  Beyond those gardens were the open fields that they tended. It was all very communal with everyone working together to weed those crops, till the land and tend the animals. Water was drawn from the well and the stream, and those who didn’t work the fields would do the laundry for everyone.

  It was, almost, idyllic. I caught myself on more than one warm, sunny morning, imagining such a place with Lily and my children. Something that could never happen, of course. But, as a fantasy, it was a change from those I usually indulged in that were full of blood and death.

  Gregg made himself busy by helping in the fields and with gathering what fallen wood he could. I could tell that he too found the place pleasant. He was growing to like the people there, and while he had stopped questioning why we couldn’t ask to use their radio to contact the island, he did keep asking when we were continuing our journey.

  Abigail, on the other hand, was eager to be off. The first few days in the village had been spent with her giving most of the villagers the once over. Once assured they were in general good health, she found herself with little to do other than laundry or field work.

  For myself, I continued to train, those daily exercises and movements that ensured I was as lethal as ever with knife and axe. Once done with those each day, I found a quiet pleasure in chopping wood.

  The rise and fall of the axe was almost hypnotic and I found that I could lose myself in the motions as I worked until my muscles were sore. Whiling away the time as I waited with increasing boredom for something interesting to happen.

  “Brought you a drink,” Gregg said, walking up to me as I swung the axe, connecting with the block of wood with a solid ‘thunk’.

  “Thanks.” I didn’t look up, just placed another piece of wood and raised the axe.

  “Food will be ready in half an hour,” Gregg continued, settling on one of the many piles of cut wood that I had made. “Fish stew again.”

  “Great.”

  The food, while fresh and well cooked, was fairly bland and repetitive. They had ample time to fish the stream and the river a short distance away and grew enough vegetables to produce a hearty meal.

  I did miss salt and pepper though. Both of which they had not had for some time.

  “Abi was saying…” I looked up as he trailed off and caught him staring out towards the road that we had travelled up two weeks before. “People coming, mate.”

  I slammed the head of the axe into the tree stump I had been using to stand the wood upon and wiped the sweat from my forehead. There were indeed some people walking along the road, which made me question who they were. I certainly doubted that any calling themselves ‘Riders’ would be walking which meant they were someone else.

  “Let’s go find out who they are,” I said, curious as to who they were.

  “Sure.”

  Gregg offered me the mug he had brought for me and I drank down the brackish water it contained before passing it back. The days sweat had dampened my shirt and it was cold against my back as the cool wind caught it.

  I tapped the hilt of the combat knife on my left hip and the handle of my axe on the right. I was ready for anything, and all I needed was an excuse to use it.

  My smile as we stepped out onto the main road was one of anticipation. A couple of the villagers ran past with their spears in hand and further along the road, Alice stepped out through the gates of the church, ready to greet the newcomers.

  The three newcomers had stopped in the middle of the street and my steps faltered as a small crowd formed around them. I briefly caught Gregg’s eye and shook my head as he ducked his own to hide his face.

  I scratched at my beard as Alice hurried past, wonderi
ng if five years was enough time for them to have forgotten me. While Alice obviously hadn’t, the others at least would have thought me dead.

  “Who speaks for this community?” the lead cultist said, voice muffled slightly by the black hood he wore.

  “I do,” Alice called, pushing through the crowd. “Who are you and why do you hide your faces?”

  Clever, I thought, as she pretended not to know who they were.

  “We are the Dead,” the leader proudly proclaimed, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Never heard of you lad,” Daniel called out. “But you’re carrying weapons and hiding your face. We have no need for you to be here. Best you be off.”

  “We bring the holy truth of our lord,” the leader continued as he lifted a hand to show the crowd the small black book that he held. “All here will hear of his word and how he saved our world.”

  “The hell is that book?” Gregg muttered, trying to keep his face as downcast as possible. A one-eyed black man with a face ravaged by a zombie, would be recognisable even if my own were not. “What are they doing here?”

  “No idea,” I replied, curious despite myself.

  Alice stepped forward, raising her hands for silence as she looked at each of the black-garbed cultists in turn.

  “We are happy to provide you with a meal and shelter for the night, but your cult is not welcome, and we would ask that you speak not of it.”

  The back two cultists dropped their hands to their belts and the knives sheathed there. I smiled, for they could deal with the Alice problem in a way that wouldn’t have Daniel running off to the radio.

  My attention was drawn to the armbands they each wore. A crimson background with what looked to be a black fang on it. There was a simple white circle on the top part of the fang that made no sense to me.

  “Our Lord Death has been reborn!” the leader said, and I shared a surprised look with Gregg. “We seek him and spread the word of his deeds wherever we go. This is a holy rite and will not be interfered with.”

  “I think it’s time for you lads to leave,” Daniel said, a murmur of agreement rising from those other men.

  “This will end badly,” Gregg said, voice barely a whisper. “You need to do something!”