Six Days With the Dead

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Six Days With the Dead Page 8

by Stephen Charlick


  ‘Well, we’ll go to the village first and check out Crazy Jackson, then go on to here, here and here,’ Charlie said, indicating a winding route through the Cornish countryside, stopping off at various blue dots along the way, ‘then that should take us to the O’Brien place,’ pointing to a small blue shaded area on the map near the coast.

  The O’Brien place was only 30 miles as the crow flies but between the Convent and the O’Brien outpost a dozen small black X’s had been marked on the map. The X’s indicated were a route had become impassable. Without man’s upkeep, rivers flooded their banks, bridges and buildings collapsed, cutting off road access and nature generally claimed back what was hers. With each trip out the map was updated, for each new obstacle a new X would be added.

  ‘We’ll collect Emma and her husband, and then take this route back,’ Charlie moved his finger along the map skirting any red areas ‘and hopefully she won’t give birth while we’re on the road.’

  ‘Looks simple enough, as long as we don’t run into any trouble,’ Imran said, mentally following the route from blue area to blue area, ‘and Nadine says Mrs O’Brien has a good few weeks to go yet, so that shouldn’t be a problem. That just leaves Raiders or the Dead to screw things up.’

  Folding up the map he handed it back to Charlie, to stow back in the rucksack.

  ‘Look you two, I want to get things clear. If we come across any raiders you do what I say, when I say it, no questions. If there’s trouble we need to take them out as quickly as possible. They cannot know about this place. Got it?’ Imran and Liz both nodded their understanding of how it would go. Liz didn’t relish killing a living person but if it meant keeping those she loved safe she would do what was necessary.

  ‘Right let’s get this party started,’ Charlie said, as he slung the rucksack back over his shoulder.

  ‘I have to go on watch soon,’ Mohammed said, as he stood up. ‘Take care, my brother,’ and he pulled Imran in a heartfelt hug.

  Macho bravado wasn’t part of this new world anymore. If someone you loved could walk out of the door and never come back, you let them know you cared about them.

  ‘Don’t let him do anything stupid, Liz.’

  ‘Can’t promise anything with this one,’ she replied, a sad smile on her face ‘and you’ll keep an eye out for Anne and Alice while we’re gone?’

  She didn’t want to say anything about Adrian being a potential problem. Mohammed might take it too far and there was no point making trouble based on just a feeling.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, pulling Liz into an equally heart warming embrace, ‘and you take care too, little sister.’

  Picking up his own bow and quiver of arrows, Mohammed went to leave the room. As he passed Charlie he gave a quick salute, which Charlie returned with a nod and a wink. He knew the convent would be safe in Mohammed’s hands while they were gone. Charlie was proud of what both of the brothers had become. They had grown from angry, unruly boys into well trained, fine young men he would be happy to have watch his back.

  As Liz watched Mohammed leave, she hoped more unattached women would soon find their way to Lanherne. He deserved to find someone and feel the happiness she herself had discovered in Imran’s embrace. But it seemed wherever they went the men greatly out numbered the woman. In a few of the rougher settlements, Charlie had found there were no women at all. Of course to Liz these were nothing more than living men waiting to die, one by one behind their protective walls. These men seeking nothing beyond their own immediate safety, had nothing really to build a life for. A community that had no hope in the future could not grow and was ultimately fated to die.

  With no more details for the trip to sort out, the three of them made their way down to the stable. On the way Liz made a quick pit stop in her room to collect her sword and a few of her favourite knives. As she strapped one of the sheathed blades to her ankle, she wondered if this was to be the last time she would see the small room she shared with Anne. Living at the Convent had by no means been an easy ride but it had been the closest thing to a home she and Anne had had in many years. She would be sad not to see what the Convent could become in the years to come. As Charlie called for her to hurry up, Liz shook herself free of her brief melancholy. Taking one last look at the room, she closed the door and jogged down the hall to catch up with the other two.

  ****

  By the time Liz had caught up with Charlie and Imran they were just stepping into the garden. Liz looked up. The clear blue sky that had promised a warm pleasant day had turned to a cloudy grey, trapping the gathering heat. She could already feel it was going to be a close and muggy day and didn’t relish being trapped in the cart for the next few hours. Its box covering may protect from the dead milky eyes seeing them but it would also make the journey just that bit more uncomfortable. As they walked to the stable, Lars was just re-adjusting the blinkers on Delilah, one of the Convent’s mares. The Dead may not see the horse as something to eat but you could not expect the animals to remain unaffected by the walking corpses that wandered into their path. Delilah was a strong reliable mare. She had been out amongst the Dead many times and had learnt not to associate the smell of decay with danger. So in her case the blinkers were more of a precaution than a necessity. Liz gave Delilah’s grey speckled flanks a friendly pat as she walked round to the back of the cart.

  ‘And as you’re the only one with any real small weapons training I want you to carry one of the hand guns with you at all times,’ Charlie was telling Barry ‘We don’t want to take any chances with strangers, not with raiders in the area and you’ll have to forget some of those old police standoff procedures of yours. Shoot first, ask questions later.’

  Barry nodded, knowing he would do what he had to, to keep those in the Convent safe.

  Liz noticed William, their newest member, sitting on an upturned bucket by the stable door watching the men as they checked over the contents of the cart. As she walked over to him, he slowly turned his sad eyes towards her and then back to the cart.

  ‘This man is broken,’ Liz thought.

  Like many, his whole world had been snatched from him by unseen Dead hands in one night. She didn’t know which was worse, to have them taken at the beginning when the Dead first changed the world or now, after fighting and surviving for so long. There was always the slim chance that Frankie, his nephew may still be alive, hiding somewhere, though she doubted it. Liz crouched down on one knee so that she was level with William.

  ‘What was Frankie wearing, William? So if we see him we’ll know it’s him.’

  ‘Erm…’ he seemed lost in his own dark thoughts and pulling himself back to answer Liz was clearly a struggle for him. Slowly his eyes met hers. ‘Erm… I think he had on his blue Sponge Bob T-shirt and some jeans. But he’ll call out to you if he sees you, surely? He’ll be scared but he won’t want to be alone. If he sees you, he’ll call.’

  The hope on William’s face was pitiful and Liz suspected it was sadly misplaced. If they did happen to come across Frankie, she doubted he would be in any state to call out to them, other than a sad moan of the Dead. With a sad smile, she touched Williams’s hand.

  ‘If we see him… I’ll take care of him,’ she said slowly, trying to get what she really meant across to the broken man in front of her. Willing him to see through his grief to what she was really saying. But William pulled her hand to his face, kissing it.

  ‘Thank you. I know you’ll bring him back to me. Little Frankie, he’s all I have left now.’ Tears began streaming down his face, ‘Thank you.’

  As his misplaced gratitude collapsed back into despair, he let go of Liz’s hand to cover his own face, as he openly wept. Liz slowly stood up and went back to the cart where Imran was inside checking through the weapons that were hooked onto its ceiling and walls.

  ‘Everything Ok?’ she asked, as Imran replaced a small axe onto its brackets.

  ‘Yep, Barry’s put in all the weapons we might need. Let’s hope we won’t need most o
f them though,’ he replied, buckling a strap on the wall around his spare quiver of arrows.

  Giving the quiver a rattle to make sure it was secure, Imran jumped down through the carts back hatch. The cart had three other hatches. One each side and one on its roof. If they ever got into real trouble, whoever was in the cart wouldn’t want their options reduced by only having one exit. At the moment each of these were also open, trying to keep the cart relatively cool until they left and had to close them.

  ‘God, it’s going to be uncomfortable in there today,’ Imran said, removing his Kufie cap to wipe the sweat from forehead with the back of his sleeve ‘Perhaps we’ll get some rain to take down the heat,’ he continued looking up at the murky sky.

  Weather patterns had become a little erratic after the Dead came. Charlie had told Liz that in those first few weeks, many of the European governments, fearing meltdowns while their technicians fought for their lives, had shut down their Nuclear power stations. It may have plunged Europe into medieval blackout, which itself brought its own set of problems, but at least nuclear disaster hadn’t been added to their list of worries. He doubted if this precaution had been adopted globally and assumed in either China, Russia or the US, some short sighted bureaucrat had condemned many of his countrymen to Nuclear devastation for the sake of light for another few days. So now storms could seemingly come out of nowhere, affected by strange air currents from far across the globe.

  ‘Bit close today,’ Nadine said, struggling with the large bundle she was carrying to the cart. ‘Thought you could do with taking a few extra bottles of water and I’ve got a mattress roll for Emma. It’s going to be bad enough travelling in that thing in her condition, might as well make her as comfortable as possible.’

  Her lank brown hair was already sticking to her forehead in the growing humidity.

  ‘Now we’re not going to have to deliver this baby are we? You did say she had a few weeks left, right?’ Liz asked, as Imran relieved Nadine of her burdens and stashed them in the cart.

  ‘Who knows?’ Nadine replied, shrugging her shoulders ‘A baby comes when a baby comes. Look, perhaps I should just come with you?’

  Charlie put his hand up in front of her, stopping her before they could have this argument again.

  ‘No, we’ve been through this Nadine. As the only person with any medical knowledge here, even if it is only theoretical, we can’t afford to lose you if anything goes wrong. You stay put.’

  ‘But I just...’ she tried to say but Charlie cut her off.

  ‘I know you just want to help. But we all have our jobs around here and yours is to keep that crazy brain of yours safe. We may really need the knowledge you’ve crammed away in there someday and it’ll be no good to us if you’re out there, a walking rotten corpse,’ he said, pointing towards the main gate and the dead world beyond.

  He could see she knew he was right. Nadine certainly wasn’t a fighter and her presence would only put the others at risk protecting her.

  ‘Hmm.. and who’s going to look after me if I get sick,’ she said, with a frown, realising the argument was over before it began ‘There is one thing I need you to do though, please ask around if any of the Outposters have anything resembling pain killers. I don’t envy Emma going through child birth without them and I’m not giving her alcohol to knock her out. I don’t know what it could do to the baby.’

  Nadine had brewed up a harsh alcohol from some mashed up apples with a bit of honey. Leaving it to ferment, the hooch that it became was barely one step away from paint stripper but it did the job if they needed to dull someones senses. Charlie had insisted the alcohol be locked away, he didn’t want anyone getting any ideas about partying while they were on watch.

  ‘Also and I know it’s a long shot but if you see a willow tree can you bring me some of its bark,’ she continued.

  ‘What for?’ Imran asked.

  ‘Willow bark contains the same chemical components as aspirin. I wouldn’t use it on Emma but I’ve discussed it with Lars and he’s willing to give it a try on his arthritis. Its ant-inflammatory properties should really ease the pain in his hands.’

  ‘Will do,’ Charlie said. ‘How much do you need?’

  ‘No idea, I suppose the more the better,’ she said ‘Anyway, I’d better get back to the books. Want to make sure I can get that baby out in one piece,’ she smiled. ‘Well, good luck, come back alive, we really need the three of you here.’

  Giving each of them a brief hug, Nadine fled the growing humidity and escaped back to the cool corridors of Lanherne. As Liz watch the brilliant woman disappear inside, she realised she didn’t know if it was her fighting skills Nadine was referring to or the fact she was of child bearing age. They had had this discussion before. For the community to grow and have a real future, all the woman that could, should try to get pregnant. The Sisters were all too old, Anne was too young and Sally had told them she was unable to have children. That only left Alice, Nicki, possibly Nadine though at her age a pregnancy could be risky and herself, who could populate this brave new world. Everyone had agreed that Penny, although physically able to have children, wasn’t mentally capable of dealing with the whole process, so she was left out. It wasn’t as if anyone was going to be forced to get pregnant but if they were sexually active then all the better. That was why, when Emma had got word to them of her condition it had been received with jubilations. A new life in a world of the Dead was a rare and precious thing.

  As Charlie made the final double check of the carts contents, Alice and Anne arrived to see them off. Satisfied all was in order, Charlie pulled Delilah’s reins through the horizontal slot cut in the carts box cover and with a flick the cart slowly moved to the main gate.

  ‘You do as Alice tells you,’ Liz said, hugging her sister. ‘I love you. Oh, and try not to tease Justin, he’s just a boy so he’s at a disadvantage. ’

  Liz seeing Anne’s mischievous grin knew that request had clearly fallen on deaf ears. As much as she hated to leave her sister, she knew she had a job to do. Emma and her unborn baby needed her swift blade to protect them, so protect them she would. As Liz gave Alice a quick hug goodbye she noticed over her shoulder that Nicki was standing in the garden, her arm around Justin. Liz could see, even from where she was standing, the apprehension in Nicki’s eyes. Was it fear that their best fighters were going outside the walls and so leaving them less defended, or that they may run into the raiders and inadvertently make them aware of those at the Convent. Liz did not know. Liz waved to them farewell but Nicki just pulled Justin closer to her, determined she would protect this child with her life. Glancing up at the walkway, Liz could see Mohammed and Phil were on watch duty. Mohammed standing like a guardian warrior, scanned the surrounding land outside the Convent walls. Having already said his goodbyes, Mohammed would not shirk from his duty to protect those inside the walls, not even to say goodbye to his brother again. Phil waved to her and began to climb down the ladder so he could open the gate for them.

  With one last look around, Liz climbed up into the cart. As she closed the back hatch behind her, Imran opened the one in the roof to allow some more light into their wooden prison. Liz began to slide back a series of disks that were randomly attached to the walls. Behind each disk a hole had been cut to allow those in the cart to see the Dead world around them. They also allowed a small amount of fresh air to flow through the cart. As she tried to make herself comfortable on one of the padded benches that ran along either side, she could hear the main gate being opened.

  ‘Good luck, you lot. Bring me back a man, preferably a live one,’ she heard Phil shout, as he opened the gate for them.

  ‘We’ll see what we can do,’ Charlie replied, with a chuckle.

  Then making a clicking noise with his tongue, he urged Delilah forward into the holding area in front of the outer gate. With a bang the main gate closed behind them, shutting them out of the Convent. Looking forward over Charlie’s shoulder, Liz could see through the horizontal slit
in the front wall he used to view the road ahead. With a creaking, the winch located on the walkway above the main gate was turned, slowly the outer gate opened before them. Once the gate was fully open, Charlie flicked the reins again and Delilah slowly began plodding forward. Their journey among the Dead had begun. Reaching for two of the neck protectors hanging on the wall, she tossed one to Imran.

  ‘Here put this on,’ she said, ‘better safe than sorry.’

  ‘God these things are uncomfortable,’ he said, as he began doing up the buckles along the side of his neck.

  Tugging at the thick protective canvas with her fingers, Liz made sure Imran’s neck cover was lying flat. Once he had in turn checked hers, he gave her a brief kiss for luck and went back to checking his bow.

  ****

  Delilah had made this journey may times. With her slow sure steps she pulled the cart, with little or no prompting from Charlie, around the various potholes pitting the long tree lined road leading from the Convent. As each of the travellers sat lost in their own thoughts of what was to come, Liz watched the changing scene given to her through the roof hatch. The high curving branches overhead encased the cart in a tunnel of softly moving leaves. Small sparrows, black birds and iridescent starlings, flitted from one side to the other catching any insects sent into the air by the passing cart. Liz liked to see these little lives carrying on, completely regardless of the fall of man. These busy little creatures had increased their number tenfold since the Dead rose. Mainly because the insects upon which they fed, in turn fed on the dead, which unfortunately were now in abundance.

  After about fifteen minutes Delilah came to a slow stop. She had reached the end of the road and needed instruction from Charlie on which way to turn. Ideally, as they were going to the village to see Jackson, they should go right but a large oak tree had fallen and blocked the road during a storm, forcing them now to make a detour to the left. The tree had been huge but week by week a few of them would come out to chop up the branches and trunk into more manageable sized pieces for their wood pile. This was not like working in the fields where, because they were quiet, they could work hours on end without attracting any attention. The very nature of this work was noisy and they were lucky to be able to work for half an hour before they attracted wild dogs or the Dead. Flicking the reins, Charlie urged Delilah to turn left. The detour would turn the forty-five minute journey to the village to a two hour trek. Delilah fell back into her steady rhythm, one step after another. She was in no hurry and would get her cargo where it wanted to go in her own time. Charlie preferred this slow pace. Go too fast and you missed that pothole or branch that hadn’t been there the last time and then you had a lame horse or worse to deal with. They couldn’t afford to lose Delilah, or a wheel, to simple impatience, so he always let Delilah determine the pace.

 

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