‘Are you all ready to go soon?’ Patrick asked, as he walked up to them with two other men following him ‘Oh.. sorry, morning Liz, Imran,’ he continued nodding to the new arrivals.
‘Yep, just about,’ Charlie answered, checking how far Delilah had got with her breakfast.
‘Good, so you’ll lead the way until the turning and then I’ll make my way to the Penhaligan’s place with Tom and Ryan here,’ Patrick said, indicating the two men with him carrying between them a crate containing the two donated piglets. ‘We’ll probably have to make quite a few trips to get it all, but once we’ve been there once we should be OK’.
Tom and Ryan gently placed the pig crate in the convent’s cart. They then walked over to their own and began throwing the assortment of weapons that had been placed on the ground before them. The large black mare that was pulling their cart, stamped her hooves and swung her head about in reaction to the sudden noise behind her. Imran caught Liz’s eye and exchanged a look. The mare was obviously a bit jittery and unlike steady Delilah, wouldn’t have been his first choice to entrust his life to if the Dead were around. Unless a horse had been around the Dead often, it could be easily spooked, and that could be deadly. Not to mention they took more effort to drive if they weren’t used to avoiding some of the obstacles by themselves.
Quite a few other people had come down to either see them off or start their day’s work. Liz saw the woman with the home of memories, feeding the substation’s scrawny looking chickens. Seeing Liz she waved and returned to her work as the hens pecked hungrily at the scraps she scattered before them. Helen had also come down and was quietly talking to Patrick a little off from the main group. Liz watched as Helen pulled Patrick into an embrace as though her life depended on it. Liz knew what was going through Helen’s mind at that moment. She went through the same thing herself every time Imran left the convent. After reluctantly releasing Patrick, Helen came and bade farewell to the trio from Lanherne. Hugging each of them in turn, she wished them a safe journey.
‘Tell Emma O’Brien I send my congratulations for her baby and hope everything goes OK,’ Helen said, as she briefly hugged Liz, ‘And isn’t is about time you tried sorting things out in that department young lady? You and Imran would make beautiful babies and let’s face it we need all the babies we can get these days.’
‘Well it’s not for the want of trying,’ Liz replied, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
‘You know what they say, if at first you don’t succeed, try…’ Helen said, as the both began to laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’ Imran asked, which only made the two women laugh even more.
Liz would be sad to leave Helen behind and wished she would come to live at Lanherne. But she knew the substation community relied on Helen and Patrick too much for the pair to abandon their home in the sky.
‘Right, we’re going to clear the gate of the Dead now,’ Patrick shouted.
At this announcement, many of those working stopped what they were doing to watch, ready to jump in if anything went wrong. Not wanting to put her unborn baby at risk Helen touched Liz’s arm goodbye and backed off to the safety of one the small buildings. Ryan had leapt out of the back of the cart carrying a heavy looking piece of pipe and begun swinging his arms to warm up his muscles. Tom would be staying inside the cart to drive the horse forward once the outside of the gate was cleared, just as Imran would be with Delilah.
Liz looked beyond the gate at the moaning dead. There were only four to deal with this time.
‘One each,’ she thought to herself as Charlie, Patrick and Ryan prepared themselves for the attack.
Withdrawing her blade she made a few practice swipes herself, knowing she would be slicing it into Dead flesh shortly.
‘Watch your footing people, last night’s rain has made it pretty slippery out there,’ Patrick said, with serious look on his face, ‘Ready?’
Nodding, the other three went a little way down from the gate. Shouting and rattling the fence, Liz, Charlie and Ryan began to draw some of the Dead away from Patrick. After a few minutes of hollering, two of the Dead, a man and what had either been a child or short woman had moved away from the gate towards them. Realising this was about as good as it was going to get, Patrick began to open the gate. As the gate started to swing open, a Dead man, naked apart from the filth that streaked his decaying body, started to be pulled forward by the motion. Patrick noticed the creatures skeletal thin fingers had hooked themselves through the wire of the fence, stopping him from falling to the mud. Surprised these withered hands could hold on under the Dead man’s weight, Patrick lifted his club high ready to bring it down on the wrists. As the weapon fell with enough force to shatter the bones, he noticed the torn and ragged flesh on the cadaver’s arms. Dogs or the Dead had ripped strips from his forearms and shoulder, revealing the bone in places. With a sound like snapping wood, the bones in both arms cracked, and the Man fell to the mud, leaving his hands still clinging to the fence. Oblivious to the loss of his hands, the Dead man moaned as he looked up at Patrick with hunger in his film covered eyes. Reaching up with his ruined stumps to the living man above him, his rotting brain could not process the fast moving shadow that came towards his head. In an instant his Dead existence was ended, as Patrick’s club smashed through the papery skin and brittle bone of the skull to the brain beneath.
While Patrick had been dealing with the naked man, Liz, Charlie and Ryan had run back to the open gate to finish off the other three walking Dead. The second body at the gate at one point had been a hugely overweight woman. Now her rotting and mouldy skin hung from her frame and gave the appearance that she was a melting waxwork. Around her neck the weight of the loose skin pulled down her features, stretching her lower eye lids so her filmy eyes bulged horrifically. Dressed only in a torn and rotting floral T-shirt, which may have once been a nightgown, the woman lumbered toward Patrick as he dealt with the naked Dead man. Realising Patrick was unaware how close the woman was getting, Charlie ran forward to intercept her. Using the speed he had built up Charlie threw his leg up to kick the Dead woman back. As his foot connected with her body, rancid skin slipped and tore, as a large area on the woman’s chest was ripped away by Charlie’s boot. Surprised that his foot hadn’t found a firm purchase, his boot slipped fractionally on slimy muscle, making Charlie lose his balance on the wet mud. Falling firmly on his arse, Charlie looked up at the walking horror that loomed above him.
‘Fuck!’ he said and began to push himself up when he heard Liz shout.
‘Down!’
Charlie threw himself backwards into the mud, as Liz flew over his head to plunge her blade violently into the woman’s skull. Yanking her sword free, an arc of rotting brain matter was thrown into the air. Not stopping to help Charlie up, Liz went over to the two remaining Dead. Ryan had chosen to tackle the other Dead man first, so that left the smaller figure for Liz. Ryan swung his pipe wildly, knocking away the Dead man’s reaching arms, trying to get room for a killing swipe. But each time he thought he had a window of opportunity, either he or the Dead man would slip in the deep wet mud, deflecting the blow to a less lethal area. The Dead man’s face was fast becoming little more than mushy pulp but Ryan still needed the brain to be destroyed to finish it. Then as the Dead man lost his balance and slipped on his side, Ryan saw his chance. With a mighty thud, the pipe came down and shattered the rotting skull.
This left only the child like figure to deal with. From what was left of her clothing, the Dead thing was either in a school uniform or business suit. With her blouse dark with old dried blood and the numerous chunks of flesh missing from her neck, it was clear how this person had died. Trying to put these thoughts out of her mind, Liz readied herself to strike. Filthy claw like hands reached for her, as the remaining Dead thing let lose a moan full of need and hunger. This soldier in an army of the Dead could not mourn or even be aware of its fallen comrades that were now just heaps of rotting flesh about its feet. In that moment its whole wor
ld was the living flesh almost within its grasp. All it wanted, all it needed was to tear, render, chew and rip into the warm body that slowly moved towards it. Even as the tip of Liz’s blade touched the base of its neck, the Dead hands still reached for her. With a stab, Liz forced the metal through the soft tissue and cartilage of the throat and continued through to the neck vertebrae. With a practiced flick of her wrist, her blade severed the spinal cord and the Dead creature fell to floor. Even now its milky eyes still followed her, while a blackened mouth so desperate to bite, gnawed at its own rotten lips. Liz looked down at the female head at her feet, its long matted hair trailing in the mud. She did not want to think how this thing had once lived, what dreams she had had and whether she had been loved or ultimately how she had died, only to come back a monster from the worst of nightmares. No, she only wanted to see this as a thing, an enemy, a plague that walked the land. Yes, that is what she wanted but she knew she would never grant herself such detachment from this fate that could so easily befall any of them. With one fast downward jab, the deed was done.
With all the Dead now dealt with, a quiet stillness descended on the area, broken only by heavy breathing and some distant birdsong. Charlie had pulled himself up and was helping Patrick pull the bodies aside so the carts would be able to pass.
‘What did you do with all the gravel you removed from your planting areas?’ Charlie asked, as they squelched through the mud.
‘It’s all dumped in some ditches over there. Why?’ Patrick replied, gesturing to an area off to the left.
‘You need to get it back and make a more stable area around the fence. If I can land on my arse, anyone can and they may not be so lucky next time.’
‘Good idea,’ Patrick said, as he and Charlie dragged the naked man’s corpse to the side of the road.
Once the way was clear, Imran urged Delilah forward. With her usual ‘no hurry’ pace the Lanherne cart was pulled through the gate, closely followed by the black mare with the substation’s cart. Coming to a stop alongside Charlie, Imran flipped open one of the side hatches.
‘Well, come on then, we haven’t got all day,’ Imran said, as he poked his head through the hatch smiling at his mud covered friend.
Giving Imran the finger, Charlie tuned to Patrick.
‘Ok, so you follow us. We’ll be going at a slow pace, so as not to attract too much attention of the Dead or any packs that may be in the area. Oh, and keep your eye out for any signs of the psycho raiders.’
‘Got it,’ Patrick said, ‘Oh, and thanks for watching my back, back there.’
‘Not that I did much good. It’s Liz you should be thanking,’ he replied.
Ryan and Liz had walked over to the carts. Ryan was wiping his length of pipe on his trouser leg while Liz took a little more care, cleaning her blade with a rag she had pulled from her pocket.
‘Right let’s get this thing started,’ Ryan said, as he threw his pipe noisily into the back of his wagon before climbing in himself.
‘They do know to keep the noise down out here, don’t they?’ Charlie asked Patrick, indicating towards the other cart where a loud boisterous conversation between Tom and Ryan could be heard.
‘Fucking idiots!’ Patrick said under his breath, as he stormed over to the cart. As Patrick stuck his head through the back hatch and said something, the conversation died instantly.
‘Ok, I think we’re set to go now,’ he called back to Charlie, rolling his eyes.
With a wave of his hand Charlie climbed into the cart with Imran and Liz. Imran would be driving, so the back of the cart was to be a little less spacious for this part of their journey. With Charlie, Liz, their stores and weapons and now the crate with two dozing piglets inside, there wasn’t much room to spare.
‘Oh for God’s sake,’ Liz said, covering her nose and waving her hands, ‘Imran!’
‘What? it was one of the pigs. Honest,’ he said chuckling, as he glanced over his shoulder.
Turning back to the road ahead, Imran gave the reins a flick and Delilah began moving forward again. Liz immediately opened all the spy holes. Partly so she could watch the countryside go by but mainly to get some fresh air flowing through the back of the covered cart. As the cart pulled away from the Substation Liz could see a man securing the gate while Helen stood next to him, a hand on her belly, watching Patrick’s cart move away.
****
Within half an hour the substation could no longer be seen in the distance, Delilah’s steady pace taking them, one slow step at a time, on their way to the Donaldson island. Liz could hear the black mare plodding close behind them and every once in a while the faint murmur of a conversation from the Substation cart. Looking through one of the spy holes, Liz decided it looked like it was going to turn into a nice day. Even though the sky was clear blue, a pleasant cooling breeze, left over from the previous night’s storm helped prevent the smothering heat of yesterday from building. Liz watched field after field go by. Each overgrown and going through the process of changing from arable to wild meadow to woodland. Dotted throughout each field, saplings had taken root and would, in the years to come, turn the English countryside, sculptured once by Man’s hand, back to the wild woodland of its medieval past. Liz watched as, in one of the fields of waist high grasses, two of the Dead walked in the distance. Stumbling about on the uneven ground, they would dis-appear from sight only to slowly raise themselves again into view.
‘We’ve got some Dead in that field Charlie. Should we deal with them?’ Liz said removing her eye from the hole to look at Charlie.
Moving so he could also see through a hole, Charlie watched them for a few minutes weighing up various factors.
‘No, they’re too far away and we don’t know what else is in that grass. No point looking for trouble unless there’s a chance it may bite you on the arse,’ Charlie said, moving back to a more comfortable position, ‘and anyway, Patrick will deal with them if they get too close to the Substation.’
With the decision made, the cart fell back into the usual silence. The small piglets still sleeping soundly in their crate must have been given some type of alcohol at the substation to make them dozy, Liz thought thankfully. You didn’t really want two loud squealing pigs drawing unwanted attention when you were trying to travel quietly through dangerous territory.
‘Well that wasn’t like that yesterday…’ Imran said, pulling Delilah to a stop.
Moving so he could see through the front slit, Charlie looked at the water covered lane in front of them.
‘Rain last night must have swelled a river somewhere and it’s flooded the area,’ Charlie said, ‘doesn’t look too deep though, anyway we’ll have to chance it. See, the road goes back up onto dry land over there.’ Pointing to the left where the cracked tarmac serface could be seen rising out of the flowing water.
‘OK’ Imran said, flicking on Delilah’s reins.
Reluctant at first, Delilah only needed a second gentle tap on her reins and she began walking into the water before her. It wasn’t until she was midway, with the water lapping more than half way up her legs, did she become at all agitated with the situation. Looking through one of the holes Liz could see a large white mass floating in the moving water. When it bumped into one of the carts wheels and turned over, she realised it had been one of the Dead, floating naked and face down. Small fish and other aquatic insects, had made a meal of the man’s ruined face and chest. Even now she could see some type of insect larvae wriggling in the empty eye sockets. As the current continued to bump the body along the side of their cart, Liz was thankful they had brought the boiled bottled water from the convent with them. With the current slowly moving it past the cart, Liz watched while the body bobbed silently along. It finally came to a stop, lodged in part of the submerged shrubbery on the side of the road. They had almost reached the other side now and Delilah quickened her pace, grateful to be out of the water and back on dry land. Behind them, Liz could see the black mare was having a less easy time of crossing
the swollen ford and Tom was having to repeatedly flick the reins to encourage the horse to move.
‘You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar,’ Liz thought to herself.
It was obvious the horse was frightened. A few kind words would calm her down quicker than trying to force her across. Eventually, the mare managed to pull the substations cart past the deepest section and then, like Delilah, she increased her pace, eager to leave the water behind her.
With both carts now through the ford and the horses no worse for wear after their experience, they carried on their journey through the small winding lanes of the Cornish countryside. Half an hour later they reached the turning that would lead Patrick to the empty Penhaligan home. Imran pulled Delilah to a stop, waiting for the other cart to come up beside them. Once they were level Charlie opened one of the side hatches, as Patrick did the same.
‘You should be ok, from here. Just follow the route I showed you and you’ll find the house no problem,’ Charlie said.
‘Will do, and thanks again for all this. These supplies will really help us through the winter, I can tell you,’ Patrick said, as he and Charlie shook hands, ‘And you take care of yourselves with those lunatics running round. There’s too few of us left now as it is.’
Saying their ‘goodbyes’, each group wished the other success and safety for the future. They arranged a date when, if they hadn’t heard from each other, they would visit to see if everything was OK. The way the world was now, it was important to build these relationships with other communities. These oasis of humanity could not exist long term in a vacuum. Information and ideas on how to make life easier, should be shared. Extra supplies, or the time of survivors with specific talents could be bartered for, bringing trade and commerce back into this Dead world. Also, and perhaps more importantly, years down the line any livestock they had would suffer due to inbreeding, unless they could mix the gene pool with new animals and breeds.
Six Days With the Dead Page 13
