DEAD: Snapshot (Book 2): Leeds, England

by TW Brown

  “I suppose it is time to start having hope that I will be okay. I certainly would not want to be bitten again and test the theory, though. I had no idea that being bitten could hurt so bloody much.”

  Screwing the top on the canteen, the two women re-oriented their approach towards that lone tower of smoke that rose in the direction of Micklefield. It seemed so close, but as they continued to walk, they realized how hampered they were by being on foot.

  The undead of Garforth added yet another obstacle as they apparently gathered the attentions of some of the ones on the outskirts of the small town. It was not until they had over twenty strung out behind them, but obviously following, that Shadiyah decided they would have to deal with them.

  “If we lead a bunch of those cursed things all the way to Micklefield, I doubt we will be greeted with smiles,” Shadiyah said as she drew her scimitar and doubled back to take out the closest of the zombies.

  Caron followed, and the two women went to work like they were dealing with nothing more worrisome than weeding a garden. The zombies were spaced out for the most part, and proved to be no problem…until the pair that emerged from behind one of the nearly ruined dome constructs that ran the length of the row they were moving along in this massive section of farmed land.

  “Oh…” was all that Caron managed to say, her face a mask of absolute sadness and heartbreak, her mouth still open, but no more sound coming forth.

  Shadiyah winced. Had it not been for the story that Caron had shared the night before, she would have had no idea why the two zombies had caused such a debilitating response. She looked back at the children and studied them briefly.

  One of the child zombies was a little girl. This one had been the obvious reason that Caron had frozen in place and looked so distraught. She was probably four or five. She was wearing a shirt with a blue police box on the front and the words “Future Companion” in fancy writing that was laden with glitter so as to look like stardust or something along that line. She had brown hair that was matted and caked with dried blood and filth. A good chunk of one side of her face was torn away. Her left eye looked as if it might fall out if the girl so much as took even a slight tumble. She had blood dried around her mouth that indicated she had bitten or at least fed on some poor fool recently.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she was fairly certain that somebody like Caron could easily be the next victim. The woman was still visibly paralyzed. Returning her attention to the pair of zombies, it was actually the second one that made her heart hurt. This one was a little boy; possibly the baby brother of the zombie girl.

  This poor soul was missing his left arm at the shoulder and had a nasty rip in his side where his tattered insides poked out. There were bites on the thigh of his left leg and a flap of fatty meat dangled with hideous effect.

  “Come to Shaddi,” she whispered, kneeling down, setting her scimitar beside her and slowly drawing her belt knife.

  The pair seemed to regard her with a peculiar curiosity that Shadiyah found to be very unnerving. Still, she was actually wondering if there might be something about the child versions of a zombie that made them keep part of their humanity. Unlike the regular undead that simply came at you no matter what, these two were obviously waiting and almost studying her. They rocked back and forth, shifting from one foot to the other and cocking their heads first one way and then back.

  “It’s okay,” Shadiyah cooed, holding her arms out wide as if to receive them in an embrace. Apparently that was enough to break the spell that had been put on Caron.

  “What are you about?” the woman called in a voice that was partially a whisper.

  “They are different,” Shadiyah replied, making certain to keep her voice sounding as calm and soothing as she could, considering the situation.

  “No, they aren’t,” Caron insisted, the sound of her voice giving away her approach.

  Shadiyah watched the children adjust their attention to the woman who was walking up. For the first few seconds, there was no change, but when Caron hefted her pitchfork; it was as if a switch was thrown. The pair reverted to nothing more than normal zombies as they reached out, hands clutching and mouth opening and closing in anticipation of tearing into flesh.

  “Dammit,” Shadiyah cursed as she leapt to her feet and helped dispatch the pair.

  The two women cleaned their weapons off and resumed their trek; the smoke that had been acting as their beacon was starting to dissipate, but it would not be long now before they arrived at their destination.

  As they walked, Shadiyah could not help but glance behind her, long after the bodies of the children were no longer in sight. There was something about them that was different despite what Caron said. She wished that she was smarter or had the knowledge of a proper doctor. She glanced at Caron and saw the tracks of where the tears had carved their way down her face. Despite what that woman said, she had seen it too, and it clearly did not sit well in her heart.

  They continued across the open fields until they at last reached a line of trees. Wading through, they emerged on a two-lane road. Thankful for the relief on their ankles from all that time crossing uneven ground, the pair decided to follow it for a while until they came to a small granite marker that announced they were at the outskirts of Micklefield. The smoke that had been their beacon was still a bit farther to the south.

  “What do you think?” Shadiyah turned to Caron with a frown. She wanted to reach their destination, but she could not help her curiosity at whatever had taken place just south of where they now stood.

  Caron opened her mouth just as the sound of a vehicle came from the right of their position. It veered sharply and rumbled through a small hedge that separated farming fields from the actual village. Just that fast, the vehicle had vanished from sight. Seconds later there was a loud crash and then a barrage of gunfire.

  ***

  Simon crouched down behind the wall. He could hear the low growl of the engine just around the corner from his position. Not for the first time, he cursed this madness that seemed to grip people in the absence of real law and order. Of course, this also gave you a peek into the true heart of an individual. He wondered if these soldiers had been exemplary, or if perhaps they had been placed on report time and again due to their behavior.

  “You ready?” Geoff whispered.

  “No,” Simon answered truthfully. “But that is not likely to change. Let’s get to it.”

  Putting his shoulder into it, Simon joined Geoff in pushing the small car into the road and then both men ran back to their position behind the wall. Just as they reached their spot, the tan vehicle crept around the corner.

  “Wait until I tell you to move,” Mrs. Raye whispered. She grabbed Simon’s shoulder and pointed to the man poking up through the turret sweeping a nasty looking machinegun around. “That is a Belgian MAG.”

  The woman hefted the rifle that Simon had snagged from the soldier he had killed. She had explained that she would happily show him the finer points of how to fire the weapon, but that would have to wait until after their lives were not in danger. Bringing the rifle to her shoulder, Simon watched as she made a slight adjustment.

  “As soon as that man drops, signal the attack,” Mrs. Raye whispered.

  Simon felt the newest surge of adrenaline course through him. This plan was more madness and desperation than anything else, and it relied on Mrs. Raye not missing as its first step. Then came the real madness.

  There was a single moment for Simon where the world seemed to stop, and all time froze for an instant. That bubble burst when Mrs. Raye pulled the trigger.

  “Now!” she snapped.

  The Foxhound had slowed as it approached the car that sat sideways in the middle of the narrow street basically blocking the path. Simon lit the Molotov and then popped up and threw it at the front window of the Foxhound. It burst and flames rippled across the surface.

  There was a chorus of shouts as around fifty men and women emerged from every direction
at once and rushed the vehicle. Simon and Geoff hurtled the wall and led the half dozen people that had been clustered close to them at the Foxhound.

  The military vehicle had screeched to a halt and was now backing up. Only, the team that had been assigned to move a small, white Ford into the road had rushed into action ahead of that effort. The Foxhound still made no attempt to slow and slammed into the little car, sending it sliding back and into a lamp post. That only made things worse for the Foxhound as the metal pole came down hard and ended up being wrapped around the rear of the fighting vehicle.

  Still, the driver was obviously experienced at his job, and the Foxhound screeched to a halt and then lurched forward. With a sudden jerk to the left, it smashed through the ivy covered rock wall that bordered the front yard of a series of townhouses and then began to plow through the dividing fences that separated each front yard.

  When it crashed through the second fence that crumpled like paper before the powerful military machine, the next part of the trap was sprung. Simon could not help but be impressed at how Mrs. Raye had almost predicted every response that the driver had made.

  There was a tremendous crack that sounded right after the sharp twang of a rope being parted. The wooden telegraph pole toppled and crashed down on top of the Foxhound with a terrible sound of splintering wood and the clang of the composite armor ringing from the impact.

  However, there was a moment where the engine roared as the driver tried to get free and clear. It was in vain and the people took that as their sign to charge. They scrambled over the vehicle and began banging and pounding with pipes and wooden clubs.

  Geoff signaled his small team and they hurried over with their canisters of petrol and climbed on top to begin pouring it in the turret opening with the dead gunner while Simon and his people came in with axes to attack the tires and disable the Foxhound once and for all. It was as he was about to swing at the right rear tire that a hatch flew open and a soldier in full gear emerged with his weapon raised.

  A shot rang out and the soldier staggered back a step. Another quick burst came and the sounds of bullets pinging around inside the vehicle could be heard with their distinctive echoes adding to the cacophony of noise. It was for that reason that it was a few seconds before Simon heard the voices from inside.

  “We surrender…we will come out with our hands raised…just stop! Please, just stop!” a voice pleaded from within the vehicle.

  “Everybody hold!” Simon began shouting.

  The mob was in a bit of a frenzy and had already rushed the first soldier, yanking him from the vehicle and shoving him about until he eventually was flung to the ground. Simon waded in, pulling people back and hollering for everybody to stand down until he finally reached the center of activity.

  “We surrender,” the man gasped, his helmet askew and a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

  There were two others inside the vehicle including the driver, and apparently it was a unanimous choice for these men to give over to Simon and his people. Of course, Simon thought as he grabbed the first of the two remaining soldiers by the shoulder and pushed him forward and then down so that he knelt beside his comrade, there was no reason to be trusting at this point.

  “Everybody step back and let Mrs. Raye through,” Geoff called over the angry shouts.

  The woman worked her way to where three men now knelt on the ground at the rear of the Foxhound. She already had the zip-strips ready and quickly secured the men’s hands behind their backs. The man with the sergeant’s stripes was the last to be secured, and he was pulled to his feet as soon as Mrs. Raye stepped back.

  “You are an embarrassment,” the woman hissed as she leaned in to the point where she was almost nose-to-nose with the man.

  “Piss off,” the sergeant snarled, spitting on the ground in defiance.

  “Oh good…stupid as well,” Mrs. Raye said with a clap of her hands as she turned to the crowd. “I think we can hold the trial right here and now.”

  ***

  Shadiyah held up a hand, but it was a pointless gesture as Caron had already hit the ground and was on her belly. A large group of people were heading down a cross street just ahead. From what Shadiyah saw before she ducked into a doorway and pressed herself tight in hopes that she would not be spotted, the mob had a trio of what looked like soldiers in front of them; all had their hands secured behind their backs.

  She risked taking a look as the noise level indicated that most if not all of the crowd had gone by. Blinking her eyes, Shadiyah felt her heart leap to her throat as the familiar figure of Simon Wood came along bringing up the rear. Even more interesting was the fact that Mrs. Raye was beside him carrying a wicked looking gun of some sort.

  Once the last few stragglers vanished from sight, she stepped out and back into the street. A part of her had to admit that she was moderately impressed. It seemed that at least Simon and Mrs. Raye had made it. This little village had been busy by the looks of things. There were blockades along the main road into town that no zombie was likely to get past. Also, she had seen at least the beginnings of some sort of trench around the town. She was curious how they planned to keep that precious farmland secure, but she also had to imagine that security and being safe from the walking dead were the priority.

  Seeing what she did had already given her ideas for when she and Caron returned to the house. That horse field would be perfect for a nice farming allotment. Admittedly she knew very little about growing fruits and vegetables, but it couldn’t be that difficult. Could it?

  “What the hell was that all about?” Caron whispered as she crept over to Shadiyah.

  “Not sure, but did you see the soldiers?”

  “No, my face was too busy trying to make like an ostrich and bury itself in the ground. Sort of that whole ‘if I can’t see you, then hopefully you can’t see me’ idea.”

  “I saw Simon.”

  That single sentence almost seemed to have a physical presence. Shadiyah could see Caron’s face swirling with emotions. The most prominent one was hope. After all, if she was correct and the man had been bitten by his sister all those days ago and still hadn’t turned, then it certainly gave Caron reason for optimism.

  “Why are we waiting?” Caron asked after she had taken a few steps towards the direction that the crowd had vanished.

  Shadiyah opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Here she was, right where she had set out to be. Yet, there was something inside her that feared actually coming face-to-face with Simon. Could she come this far and simply turn around and leave without telling him?

  “You’re right,” Shadiyah finally said with a nod.

  The two women still moved with a great deal of caution as they navigated the narrow roads. They could hear the sounds of people up ahead, the sounds were similar to what you heard at a rugby match, and there was an audible violence to them that drifted on the air and contributed to the sense of disquiet; at least for Shadiyah.

  When they reached the road that the sign announced as Churchville Terrace, they actually had to pause and orient on the sound of the mob because of the way it bounced around in an otherwise silent and empty little village.

  Twice there was an uproar that seemed more bloodthirsty than it did civilized. Each time, the pair would halt. Once, Shadiyah was almost certain that she heard a scream of pain…or maybe anger? She could not be sure because of the roar of at least a couple hundred voices rising in unison in waves that would reach a crescendo and then crash like the rough surf during a storm, only to rise again.

  At last, Caron reached over and grabbed Shadiyah by the arm. “Are you sure we should do this? I don’t like what I’m hearing. They sound bloodthirsty…almost crazed.”

  “We will be fine.”

  She wasn’t entirely convinced of her own words, but Shadiyah was intent on seeing this through now. For some reason, she truly believed that doing this would whisk away whatever cloud it was that seemed to be hanging over her heart a
nd clouding her mind.

  When they rounded the corner onto what was Churchville, they stopped in their tracks. Up ahead on the left was a turn-in just beyond a little hitch in the road. That was where the crowd had gathered. They looked to be packed into some sort of large open area. They were all facing in at something and people were shaking their fists, screaming, and pointing at whatever was going on just out of eyesight.

  As they moved closer, some of the shouts were becoming discernable in the slurry of voices. None of what was heard sounded right coming out of the mouths of the everyday men and women gathered.

  “Kill ‘em!”

  “Feed them to the undead!”

  “Shoot them in the face!”

  Caron glanced at Shadiyah. Her apprehension was growing with every single step. It was becoming increasingly clear that the woman did not want to be here. For all her talk about wanting to meet up and join in with other people, Caron was now suddenly having a change of heart. Then, a familiar voice from behind stopped Shadiyah in her tracks. Her hand immediately went to the scimitar at her side before she even turned.

  “Shadiyah? Is that you?”

  13

  Point of No Return

  The three men knelt in front of Simon. The steady drizzle gave everything a darker tone, and he found himself thinking that they were probably quite miserable kneeling in the wet grass. He shook that superfluous thought away and made himself concentrate on the situation at hand.

  He let his eyes drift across the citizens of Micklefield that had gathered in this open area bordered on each side by simple townhouses; and behind him, in an ironic coincidence, the village’s graveyard. Mrs. Raye was on one side and Geoff the other. Beside each of the soldiers stood Dawn, Melena, and Nelson with a weapon in hand that sort of drifted about the heads of their charges.