‘Anyway, we’d better be off,’ Charlie said reaching for the gate, ‘we’re making the rounds of the nearest Outposters, letting them all know… and don’t forget, if anything happens you’ll always be welcome at Lanherne.’
‘Thanks, but think we’ll be ok here, won’t we Toby,’ Jackson said, opening the gate ‘Have a safe journey.’
Charlie and Liz joined Imran back in the cart as Jackson waved them off, wishing them luck. As Delilah pulled the cart away from the converted school, Liz watched through one of the spy holes as Jackson returned to his haven, talking and stroking Toby all the while.
****
As morning turned into afternoon, Delilah pulled then through the maze of small twisting lanes, passing one scene of devastation after another. Small stone built cottages, that had once been part of the picture perfect countryside, now dilapidated and forgotten ruins. Gardens overgrown and wild, were now mere distorted reflections of their former selves. They passed through another small village. Like St Mawgan, scenes of a desperate locals fighting for their lives could be seen everywhere. The village green with its small painted cricket pavilion, once a tranquil haven from a busy world, was now a graveyard of forgotten bones. Here at least, some of the living had managed to kill many of the Dead before being overrun by their sheer numbers. Liz could see a small school bus had ploughed across the field, running down the Dead in its path, before smashing into a large Oak tree. The driver now nothing more than a shattered collection of weathered bones, hung through the smashed windscreen. Suffering severe head injuries, at least he hadn’t come back to add to the ranks of the Dead. They passed a building that had once been a small village shop, its large plate glass windows broken and covered in dark smears. The body of what had once been a woman, wrapped in the tattered remains of a shop uniform, lay impaled on the large shards of glass. Liz could tell from her caved in skull, that at some point someone had ended her Dead existence. Everywhere she looked she imagined the story behind each collection of bones. Their stories would never truly be known, only their ending was evident.
With each of Delilah’s slow but sure footfalls they soon left the village with its tableaux of death far behind them. By the late afternoon they were nearing the next stop on the route Charlie had devised for them. Looking through the spy hole, Liz looked up at the large Georgian country house coming into view. As they made their way up the winding gravel road to the house, Liz wondered how anyone managed to feel safe here. With no high wall for protection, these Outposters had had to brick up all the windows and doors to the outside on the ground floor. She assumed each day they would check from the first floor windows for any of the Dead below and dispatch them from there. Liz didn’t like it, this place could so easily become a death trap if it became surrounded by too many of the Dead. Their home could become little more than a house shaped island in a sea of death. Just like at Lanherne, the sweeping grounds had been turned over to growing food.
‘Not much good having all your food down here if you’re trapped on the first floor,’ Liz mused.
‘Preaching to the converted here Liz,’ Charlie said, ‘I’ve told them this isn’t ideal but I can’t force the Penhaligans to leave, now can I?’
As with Jackson, Charlie had asked James and Louise Penhaligan to come to the safety of the Convent, if not for their own sake, then for the sake of their six year old son Alex and their eight year old daughter Naomi, but they had refused. Charlie pulled Delilah to a stop alongside the house. Opening the top hatch, Imran did a scan of the surrounding area, his bow taut and ready to fire. When he was sure there was no danger he gave the ‘all clear’ and Liz and Charlie quickly jumped down from the cart, grateful for a brief reprieve from the stifling heat within.
Leading to one of the open first floor windows, a rope ladder swung slightly in the soft breeze. Liz went over to a small rope that went up the side of the house, disappearing inside through another open window. Pulling on it gently, she could hear the soft tinkle of windchimes coming from within. Like Jackson, they had had to improvise some way of those outside contacting them without the loud noise of a bell ringing. Pulling the cord again, Liz and Charlie waited for a face to appear above them. When neither of the Penhaligans appeared after five minutes Liz pulled the cord again.
‘Perhaps we should see if they’re round the back of the house, in the garden?’ Liz suggested.
‘Yeah…’ Charlie said, his eyebrows coming together in a frown. ‘I don’t like this, something’s a bit off here.’
Trusting Charlie’s instincts, Liz drew her sword and prepared herself. Slowly the two of them made their way round to the back of the house, the crunching of gravel underfoot and bird song the only sounds breaking the silence of the warm afternoon. When they reached the corner Charlie held up his hand for Liz to stop. Crouching down with his back to the wall, Charlie checked around the corner, his training in Afghanistan flooding back to him.
‘Damn!’ he said, standing up.
As Liz followed him into the garden she could see a body lying face down among the growing vegetables. She could tell, even from where she was standing, that Louise Penhaligan was dead, her blond hair matted with dried blood. Someone had taken a spade to the back of her head with such force that her skull was now crushed and misshapen. Charlie quietly walked over to the corpse of Mrs Penhaligan, his muscles ready to spring into action should danger appear. With Liz watching the area for an attack, Charlie knelt down and turned Louise’s body over. Checking her neck and arms for bit marks, Charlie pulled up her sleeves and lifted her T-shirt.
‘Well, she hasn’t been bitten,’ Charlie said ‘so whoever did this, did it to stop her being alive rather than stop her from being Dead.’
‘Shit, you think James went psycho?’ Liz said.
It had happened before. People who had survived the horrors of the Dead for years suddenly cracked, killing those they loved.
‘No, James doesn’t seem the sort. He may be stubborn but I can’t see him doing this… and not leaving her here like this to become carrion for the dogs and foxes either.’ Charlie stood up, looking round the garden ‘Let’s have a scout round out here first, and, if we see no sign of them we’ll have to check the house.’
Liz turned to look up at the dark windows of the large house. She didn’t relish having to search the unknown house room by room.
Finding nothing else in the garden apart from some broken plants, the evidence of the struggle Louise had put up against her attacker, Liz and Charlie returned to the front of the house to fill Imran in on what they had found.
Two of the Dead had stumbled along the driveway while Charlie and Liz had been at the back of the house. Silently and with his usual accuracy, Imran had dealt with them both, his arrows flying true and ending their unnatural existence.
‘My bow’s not suited for close combat, so I’ll stay here keeping an eye on Delilah,’ Imran said, when Liz told him what had happened to Mrs Penhaligan.
Climbing up the ladder hanging down the side of the house, Liz gave Imran a nervous smile. Not knowing what she would find inside, she realised this could be the last time she saw him. But she had to put these thoughts out of her mind so she could concentrate on the task before her. If she stopped to think about what she was doing, going into an unfamiliar area to deal with an unknown situation, she certainly wouldn’t be climbing up this ladder so keenly. But then there was little Alex and Naomi to think of. If Anne was in a similar situation, she hoped someone would be climbing this ladder to help her. As she reached the step just below the windowsill she looked down at Charlie coming up behind her.
‘I’ll just take a quick peek through the window first before I go any further,’ she whispered.
With his knife arm locked over one of the rungs, Charlie was having some difficulty climbing with only one hand. Taking a breath to calm herself, she came eyelevel with the sill. Looking through to the panelled room within, she could see there had been some sort of struggle here too. Boxes of
supplies and broken jars of preserved fruit littered the once expensive parquet flooring. Worryingly, she could see a lot of blood sprayed along the wall and floor by the doorway, and as Mrs Penhaligan had clearly been killed outside, that meant the blood either belonged to James or his children.
‘There’s blood in here. A lot,’ she said, quietly to Charlie below her.
‘Well, be quick and quiet getting in, we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves until we’re ready. Best get your sword out as soon as you’re in,’ he replied.
Nodding, Liz soundlessly pulled herself level with the window. Hooking one leg over the sill she drew her sword with one smooth motion. With the sound of her heartbeat thumping in her ears, she placed her booted foot down onto the floor. Transferring her weight to that leg, she pulled herself through. Trying not to crunch on the broken glass littering the floor, she slowly made her way into the room. The sweet smell from the broken jars of fruit battled with the deep coppery smell of spilled blood. Pausing in her movement, she stilled herself listening for any sounds of movement within the house. A quick glance over her shoulder and she saw Charlie pulling himself through the open window. Once he was fully in the room he removed the sheath from the knife attached to his wrist and pulled one of the small ice picks free from his back, ready for attack. Nodding towards the door, the two watched their footing as they noiselessly made their way deeper in the house. Once through the doorway they found themselves standing on an internal landing with six other doors opening to rooms on this level. The walkway went all the way around the inside of the house and led to a large central staircase. The grand staircase flowed both down, to the entrance hall, and upwards to further rooms. Even though tall leaded windows flooded the internal space with light, the lower level was still shrouded in gloom. With all the windows on the ground floor bricked up, light could no longer penetrate the ominous shadows there. Looking at Charlie questioningly, Liz indicated ‘up or down?’ with her sword. Shrugging his shoulders in reply, he finally indicated with a flick of his wrist knife they should try this level and then upstairs first. As they reached the first door on the walkway, Liz stood with her feet apart, her sword held high ready for any Dead adversary that may be within. Catching her eye, Charlie slowly pushed the door open with the tip of his wrist knife. The door swung open with a creak, revealing a room similar to one they had just left. Here boxes and jars sat undisturbed and with no sign of conflict in the room, they moved on closing the door behind them. Opening two other doors leading to similarly undisturbed rooms, they had made their way round the walkway to the landing at the top of the staircase. From where they now stood they could clearly see the large pool of sticky blood drying on the landing. Liz was just about to continue their route checking the other two rooms on this level, when Charlie tapped her shoulder. Turning to face him, she noticed he was looking down the staircase. There, three steps down, the blood trail continued, with another smear of blood, and then another. Whoever was bleeding had gone down into the shadowy ground floor. Liz thought the spacing between the smears of blood was a bit odd, until she realised that whoever was bleeding had not walked but fallen down the stairs. Blood congealed on the cracked banister and pooled on the wide wooden stair treads, meters apart. At the bottom of the stairs they could see another large pool of spilled blood, with bloody handprints and a set of uneasy footprints leading off into the darkness. There was now no doubt in her mind, whoever had fallen or been pushed down the long staircase was definitely no longer one of the living. She was just about to step off into the darkness when Charlie pulled her back. Shaking his head, he backed her up seven of the stairs until, once again, they stood in a pool of soft light. There was no point meeting the Dead where they had the advantage. Even the small amount of light that managed to reach them here would now be enough for them to see any attacker clearly. Then with a loud booming voice he shouted,
‘Hey! Come and get it! Dinner time!’
As the last word echoed through the darkness below them, a crash sounded far to their right. Straining their ears to listen, they could make a distant rustling and thudding sound as Dead feet dragged a lifeless body towards them. As it came closer to them, drawn uncontrollably to the sound of the living, the silence that had descended on the shadowy ground floor was broken by a raspy moan. Then, two bloody bare feet appeared at the bottom of the stairs, followed by a body dressed in dark blood covered overalls. As the corpse shuffled into the light, its pale skin almost luminescent in the gloom, Liz could see why the Dead man’s call had sounded strange. His throat had been cut neatly but deeply, his head now tipped back, gaping the wound further. Severed flesh, tendons and blood vessels were all exposed, as the thing that had been Mr Penhaligan, stared at them with the milky sight of the Dead. Liz realised James Penhaligan must have been killed in the first room they’d entered and then quickly carried to the staircase landing, where he had been thrown down before his corpse could reanimate. Putting his knife arm in front of Liz, Charlie stepped forward. With one swift powerful motion he plunged his ice-pick in James’ skull. Instantly his blood covered arms that had been reaching for them, fell to his sides, now lifeless. With a thud James collapsed to the floor like a puppet with his strings severed. Charlie called again into the darkness in case Alex or Naomi were also there. After ten minutes of waiting for the small corpses to attack, Charlie stepped forward to the body that had once been James Penhaligan. With a sucking sound, Charlie pulled the ice pick free.
‘Right, we can only hope now that Alex and Naomi are hiding some-where in the house,’ he said, bending down and wiping the ice-pick on a clean part of James’ overalls.
They made their way back up the blood streaked staircase to the first floor to check the remaining two rooms on that level. Hoping they would find the children alive hiding in a cupboard or bolt hole. Finding nothing but empty rooms, they continued up to the second floor. When they reached the small room that Alex had been using for a bedroom, Liz’s heart sank. Although there was no sign of any blood, there had obviously been a struggle here too. Broken toys and the little boy’s things lay scattered about the room. A small wooden chair that had clearly been pushed against the door, now lay in pieces. Liz could imagine little Alex, cowering terrified in a corner, as death and destruction visited their home. Closing the door behind them they continued searching the other rooms, hopeful they may still find the Penhaligan children alive.
‘I don’t think they’re here,’ Charlie said, with a sigh, after half an hour of calling for Alex and Naomi in the empty house. They were about to go back down stairs when Liz noticed the attic trap door in the ceiling.
‘Well, that looks like our last option,’ she said, pulling a hall chair over to stand on.
Reaching up she grabbed hold of the cord hanging down.
‘Ready?’ she said, pulling on the cord, the trap door falling open and the ladder smoothly following it.
As Liz readied herself to ascend into the dark attic, a small pair of blood spattered shoes appeared just over the edge of the hatch.
‘Charlie…’ she whispered, nodding to the small toes just in view.
Alerted by the sound of Liz’s voice, the Dead child stepped forward, falling into the space where the trapdoor had been. Suddenly Liz was knocked to the floor, as the collection of bloody clothes and small dead limbs fell on top her. With a cry Liz struggled with the small wriggling corpse on top of her. The Dead child strained to bite into her living flesh but Liz managed to work her arms out from under herself to grab the Dead child under its chin. Forcing the small head with its snapping jaws back so Charlie could get a clear shot, Liz realised it was Naomi. Charlie seeing his shot stepped forward, plunging his wrist knife deep into her dead skull. The small corpse that had once been Naomi became still as her undead existence ended.
‘You alright?’ Charlie said, as he pulled the small body off of Liz. ‘Did she bite you?’
‘No, I’m fine don’t worry,’ she replied, pulling back her T-shirt to revea
l her buckled neck protector underneath.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake!’ Charlie said, turning the small eight year old body over to look at her.
Like her father, little Naomi’s throat had been cut.
‘Those bastards. What possible threat could a little girl pose?’
‘Who knows what goes through the minds of people who could do this,’ Liz replied, looking at the small ruined body, that could so easily be Anne.
After carefully checking the dusty attic Liz and Charlie realised Alex was nowhere in the house.
‘Well, as Mrs Penhaligan is outside, perhaps she had made a run for it with Alex and he managed to get away, as whoever did all this caught up with her?’ Liz said, hopefully.
‘Then he’s probably one of the Dead now anyway,’ Charlie said, washing away Liz’s false hope, ‘I don’t like this. This whole scenario doesn’t seem like Raiders to me. Why would they leave all this food here if it were simply a raiding party?’
‘Well who else could it be?’ she replied.
‘Don’t know, but I’m damn sure going to find out. We’ve got some bastards out here who like slitting throats and I don’t intend to let it happen to anyone else,’ Charlie said, looking out of one of the windows at Imran on guard below ‘Anyway, with no perimeter walls we can’t spend the night here. We’ll have to try and make it to the Substation before nightfall, they need to be warned.’
After collecting a few jars of the preserved fruit as a gift for the survivors they would be staying overnight with, Liz and Charlie joined Imran back in the cart. The deserted Penhaligan home was too far away from Lanherne to come and collect all the food left here, they would let those at their next stop know about the supplies. It would place the Lanherne Convent in the good books with those who had made the Electrical Substation their home. In a world of the Dead you didn’t know when you may need a friendly neighbour.
Six Days With the Dead Page 10
