Six Days With the Dead

by Stephen Charlick

  ‘So I guess you’re coming too,’ Liz whispered to Alice as she sat down.

  ‘Damn right I’m coming,’ she replied, the resolve in her eyes quite evident. ‘I told him either I travel with you or I follow you in Williams cart, the choice was his.’

  ‘Not much of a choice,’ Charlie said, sitting down next to her.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ Imran said, eager to get on the road.

  ‘Well, I think for this trip, as well as our usual weapons, we should take some of the guns too. Now that we know there are no raiders in the area after all, I think it makes sense that we go as well equipped as we can,’ Charlie replied, between mouthfuls of porridge.

  Liz knew she wouldn’t be taking one of their precious guns, it would simply be a waste in her hands. Unlike Imran, she just didn’t have the eye for long distance aim, and despite Charlie teaching her the basics, it was a skill she could never truly master. And anyway, she preferred the delicacy and intimacy of her blade. Alice, on the other hand had the steely determination it took to use a gun with finesse, as she had proved yesterday, taking out Adrian’s reanimated corpse. Alice had told Liz once, that her father used to go pigeon shooting when she was a younger and had often taken her along as some sort of father/daughter bonding exercise. Not surprisingly, the exercise hadn’t really worked on the teenage girl, who just wanted to be out with her friends, but it had given her a skill that had proved priceless in this new world and she thanked her long-gone father for it.

  With their breakfasts eaten, the four of them each gave Sister Rebecca a hug goodbye, just in case.

  ‘Bring her back to us,’ Sister Rebecca said, as she hugged Liz tightly.

  Liz was sure it was just her imagination but the nun seemed smaller and more fragile today. As she held her in her arms, Liz couldn’t help but wonder how the Convent was going to pull themselves back up from this attack. After so long living in safety, many had got used to thinking that the horrors that engulfed the rest of the world, were somehow now avoidable or magically kept at bay by their high walls. So, to be forced to confront the reality of the Dead so close to home, had proved a shocking wake-up call to many.

  ‘Don’t worry, we will,’ Liz said, looking deep into the nun’s eyes to reassure her.

  A few minutes later, Charlie had retrieved the hand guns from the weapons store, together with their small supply of ammo and given one each to Imran and Alice. Giving them both a quick refresher on how to use them effectively, he reminded them that the guns should only be used as a last resort. Not only would they attract the Dead, but they would also give their position away to the Reverend, and who knew what the madman would do if he knew they were launching an attack. Once he was sure they knew all they needed to about their new weapons, they joined Liz outside.

  Lars and Penny had already harnessed Delilah and with Duncan and Liz they loaded up the supplies needed for the journey. Of course if their trip to the caverns proved fruitless, they would have to improvise on the road but at least they had enough to last them a couple of days, if not a week if they were careful. It would take some getting used to, seeing Penny move with purpose and talking coherently to Lars. Liz hoped she would get the chance to get to know this new Penny. From what she had seen so far, she was a likable and intelligent young woman, keen to learn the ways of this new world. Already she had become friends with Duncan, her inquisitive mind finding a common ground with the engineer’s creative way of thinking.

  ‘You know, if you attached convex mirrors to poles at the corners, you wouldn’t have to lean over to see if any of the Dead were there and you could see round the corner too. Didn’t they have them on buses so the drivers could see what was going on…. any old buses around here?’ Penny said to Duncan, as she handed him the last of the boxes to put on the cart.

  Duncan had taken an instant liking to this new Penny. She literally saw everything with a fresh pair of eyes. Things that they had put up and had just accepted as they were, she questioned the reasoning behind, and even tried to come up with alternative solutions.

  ‘Right, so are we almost ready?’ Charlie asked, butting in. ‘We want to get off pretty soon.’

  ‘Yes,’ Duncan replied, ‘I think that’s about the last of it.’

  ‘Right then,’ Charlie said, climbing into the cart to give the contents a quick once over for himself.

  A few minutes later he popped his head out of side hatch, satisfied all was in order, and he called over to Phil and Richard, who had just come in for a break in their grave digging.

  ‘Look I know it’s a lot to ask, but with us gone, you two are the best fighters the Convent will have here. I want you both to look after everybody, keep them safe’ Charlie said, looking from one to the other.

  ‘Sure thing, Charlie,’ said Phil, laying a big muddy hand on Richards shoulder. ‘Between the two of us, we can keep the Dead at bay and everything ticking over’.

  Richard only nodded his reply, saying nothing. Phil had seen how his brother’s death had effected Richard and had really only asked him to help with the graves to keep him busy and his mind occupied. Phil believed there was nothing like doing something physical to keep your mind off your problems, and apart from the shaky start, when Richard had literally battered a wandering Dead woman’s head to a pulp with his club, it had gone well. Charlie’s eye’s flicked from Richard to Phil, his unspoken question answered with the slightest nod from Phil, indicating he would take charge and not to worry about the rest.

  After twenty minutes of checking and double checking, Charlie thought it was about time they were on the road. In the chill of the early morning light, everyone staying behind at the convent came out to see them off. Despite the hugs and tears, many of the people waving goodbye to their friends, secretly felt apprehensive about their own future at Lanherne. If the four of their best fighters left, perhaps never to return, what would the future hold for those left behind.

  ‘You will get Anne and come back, won’t you?’ Justin said, tears filling his eyes, as Liz knelt down to pull him into a tight hug.

  The two children had grown very close, and although they bickered and argued like siblings, just like brother and sister, there was a love beneath it all that tied them together.

  ‘I promise, we’ll all be back,’ Liz replied, knowing deep down as the words passed her lips, it was a promise she may not be able to keep.

  Glancing up into Nicky’s eyes, she knew the woman knew it too.

  ‘And by the time we get back I want this old mutt fully trained, so you can wow Anne with your tricks, ok?’ Liz continued, as she gave the dog sitting at Justin’s feet a quick scratch behind the ear, getting her face licked for her troubles.

  Liz tried not to think about the Dead flesh the dog had been recently living on and discreetly wiped the dog saliva from her cheek.

  Once all the goodbyes had been said, Liz, Imran and Alice, joined Charlie in the cart waiting by the main gate. With a last wave, Liz closed the back hatch on her friends and wondered if she would ever see any of them again. Sitting next to Imran in the dim light of the covered cart, Liz couldn’t help but pick up the map again and trace their route to the caverns, for what seemed like the tenth time.

  ‘We will get her back,’ Alice said, as she leant across to place her hand over Liz’s.

  As she spoke, Alice’s soft smile didn’t quite reach to her eyes, betraying her words of comfort somewhat for Liz. The fact that Alice had insisted she come with them, despite her hidden reservations that it may be a one way trip, only showed to Liz the strength of her feelings for Charlie. She had given up a life of relative safety and comfort for one fraught with possible danger and death, all to be with the man she loved. If the whole situation hadn’t been so desperately tragic, Liz would have found it romantic.

  Outside they could hear Cam shout a final farewell, as he operated the winch to open the outer gate. With a flick of Delilah’s reins, Charlie moved them forward, beyond the comforting safety of Lanherne, and ou
t onto the long tree lined lane winding past their fields of crops. Before the convent disappeared from sight, possibly for ever, Liz moved aside one of the spy hole covers to catch one last glance of the place they had called home for the last year. Up along the walkway, she could just make out the many waving figures and then as the cart turned a corner, the convent was finally hidden from her view. With a sigh, she slowly moved the cover back into position and looked at Imran.

  ‘Well, that’s that then,’ she said, resting her head on his shoulder, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

  Liz knew it wasn’t so much the fact they were leaving the convent that upset her, after all she had spent much of the last seven years moving from one haven to the next. No, it was having to face the unknown ahead of them. The worst part was that somewhere Anne was alone, scared and waiting for Liz to come for her. With all that she was, Liz prayed that she wouldn’t be too late, and if she was, then there wouldn’t be a camp or blockade in the world that could keep her from her revenge.

  ****

  Anne rose slowly through the fog of a drug induced sleep to feel the Reverend shaking her awake.

  ‘Wake up child,’ he said, his voice stern and uncaring, his large hands gripping her small shoulders tight enough to leave bruises.

  Fighting her way back to a consciousness, she somehow knew she didn’t want to confront, Anne looked up at the Reverend. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to keep the figure looming over her in focus. To her muddled brain the whole scene seemed part of a strange dream. The unreal quality of it all, only helped confirm the heaviness of her limbs and the giggles that threatened to escape her.

  ‘Be careful,’ Ruth snapped at her husband. ‘It’ll wear off eventually. Her system just needs to break it down at its own pace, try to give her a little water.’

  The Reverend, doing as he was told, unscrewed a plastic bottle of water and held it to Anne’s lips. It wasn’t until she felt the cool wetness hit her tongue, that Anne realised just how thirsty she was. Still in a half dream state, Anne thought the simple rain water to be the most refreshing and wonderful thing she had ever tasted. She wanted to keep on drinking until she was full to the brim of this pure elixir but, no sooner had her mind grasped the idea than the Reverend pulled the bottle away and the thought drifted from her mind like down on the breeze.

  Anne didn’t know how much time had passed and she couldn’t be sure if she had simply dreamt about the thirst quenching liquid but when she finally woke, her head seemed to thump painfully in time with the rolling of the cart wheels. Now that she knew they were prepared to drug both her and the baby, she would have to be on guard in front of the Reverend and Ruth. If she pretended to be asleep perhaps they would let something slip that might prove useful to her, but no sooner had she decided on this plan, then the Reverend kicked her hard on the thigh. Yelping in pain, Anne’s eyes shot open.

  ‘Don’t you try to fool me, girl,’ he said, a sneer on his face. ‘The Lord see’s all and whispers of your sins.’

  The Reverend leaned in close to her, his face close enough to her own that she could almost feel his breath on her lips.

  ‘And child… he has whispered to Ruth and I, telling us of the great many sins of Man. Man who spat in the face of the Almighty and by His hand were cast down to writhe like maggots in the shit of their own making.’

  ‘This man is crazy,’ Anne thought to herself, as the Reverend gripped her face with his long firm fingers.

  ‘But by the timing of your birth, you have been given a chance,’ he continued, his eyes wild with religious fervour. ‘You are free of this sin, free to gaze upon the Lord in wonder and awe, while your heart still beats within you. And the Lord will gaze back upon you to judge your worth… and again He will whisper… oh, He will whisper…’ The Reverend let go of her face and began tapping his lips with his fingers excitedly, as if he had a great secret to tell.

  ‘Oh yes, He will whisper to Ruth of such things, that the heavens themselves will hold their breath to hear His judgement upon you.’

  Anne simply stared up at her lunatic kidnapper, her eyes wide with fear, afraid to say anything in case it was somehow interpreted the wrong way in this madman’s mind. As quickly as it had begun, the Reverend lost interest in Anne and turned back to his wife, a look of reverence on his face as he watched her. Whatever was going to happen, it was now obvious that Ruth was the lynch pin. Ruth, despite her small stature and quiet demeanour, was the one in charge here. She was the one who merely used her husband as an instrument to help make possible her twisted dreams.

  As they travelled in silence, Anne could hear a strange humming sound, rising and falling in waves. Curious as to what could be making the noise she wriggled into a seated position and craned her neck forward so she could look out of the front view slit. The road ahead looked much like any other in the Cornish countryside. Like everywhere else, over hanging trees and wild brambles spilled unchecked across a cracked and potholed road surface. Not seeing anything that could explain the noise, she was about to lean back when a telegraph pole came into view. What she saw made her breath catch in her throat. There, suspended barely two meters up the pole, hanging by his arms, was a Dead man. His Dead hands had been crudely manacled together, the chain between them looped over a hook driven into the post. The corpse was severely weather beaten and a yellow green mould bloomed over much of his naked torso. Apart from the mould, the Dead man did not seem to show any obvious injuries, none that could have killed him anyway. It wasn’t until they got closer that Anne could see his legs. Each of his limbs had been stripped of their flesh below the knee, the exposed bones barely hanging on to the legs by the last shreds of dried and withered flesh. Why anyone would leave a Dead man hanging like that was beyond Anne. It seemed a totally pointless exercise. If it was to prevent the Dead from attacking them, surely putting them down permanently would be safer. Eventually the mouldy skin on their wrists would tear and he would fall to the ground, making him a problem to be dealt with again. As the cart came alongside the hanging corpse, it briefly had the perfect sight line to see through the front view slit at Ruth. It was then that the Dead man pathetically craned its head forward, desperate to reach the living within the cart, a brittle low moan escaping its split and ruined lips. With the cart pulling away, the sound of the Dead man began to fade. Up ahead Anne saw another pole coming into view, again a living corpse hung by its wrists, its lower legs stripped of flesh. Just like the previous one, this one could also catch a tantalising glimpse of the living as they passed and let out a low moan of hunger, mirroring its Dead brother down the road. It was then that Anne realised the sound she had heard was the rise and fall of the moaning Dead as they passed each pole. Who had done this and why, Anne could not fathom but trapped in the cart with her two crazy kidnappers, it didn’t bode well.

  ‘Almost there, little one,’ the Reverend said turning back to look at her. ‘Your time among the damned is almost at an end.’

  Anne shrank back from his gaze, afraid of the madness that danced in his dark eyes. Desperate to look at anything apart from the Reverend, Anne focused her attention on the small still form of the baby. Obviously the drug they had given her was taking a lot longer to work its way through the tiny infant’s body. Anne wondered if the baby was hungry, it certainly hadn’t been fed in a while and one thing she knew about babies is that they like to be fed a lot.

  ‘Is the baby alright?’ Anne asked, looking at its cheeks still flushed. She hoped it was just the drug and it hadn’t developed a fever.

  With little care for the infants comfort, the Reverend lifted the still sleeping baby up to take a closer look. Anne could tell this was a man not used to handling young children. He moved the child in his hands clumsily, turning it this way and that, looking at its face the way someone inspects an alien object.

  ‘Ruth?’ he finally said, thrusting the baby in her field of vision, hoping she would know better.

  Ruth, pulled the h
orse to a stop and took the quiet baby from her husband. Feeling its forehead with the back of her hand and lifting one of its tiny eyelids to look at its eyes, Ruth quickly fell back on her nurse training.

  ‘Water down some of the goat’s milk they gave us and try to get him to swallow a little for now,’ she said, handing the child back to her husband. ‘He’s running a temperature and probably dehydrated. He’ll be the first to be judged. If the Lord deems his soul worthy we’ll give him to Charlotte to wet nurse, that should help, but it is in the hands of our Lord.’

  ‘His will be done,’ the Reverend nodded and once he had found a battered looking baby’s bottle, began to follow his wife’s instruction.

  From what she could see, the baby wasn’t too keen on the watered-down goat’s milk. The first few attempts of feeding either went completely ignored or were vomited up moments later. As young as she was, Anne had seen a few people die of fever and she knew not being able to get enough liquid inside them was not a good sign.

  The constant rise and fall of the moaning dead continued to follow them. At some point Anne realised the motion and angle of the cart had changed slightly. From the crunching sound the wheels made as they moved, she thought they must have pulled off of the normal road and were now on some sort of gravel covered side-road. Also, the way items hanging from the carts ceiling now hung at an angle, told her they were now travelling down hill. After another five minutes, the soft moaning of the Dead, which had become nothing more than a macabre background sound, was replaced with a more eager and constant call of the Dead. Anne did not need to look outside to know that this was the sound a pack of the Dead made when they could see the living flesh but couldn’t get to it. Unbelievably, this was the moment Ruth decided to stop the cart.

  ‘We can’t stop here,’ Anne said, knowing Dead hands would start clambering at the cart sides any second ‘the Dead! There must be a dozen of them out there. We can’t stop!’

  ‘Have a little faith, child,’ Ruth said turning towards her, her cold blue eyes boring into her. Then with the briefest glance to the Reverend, ‘get out Nathan… someone has been very slack on watch, they haven’t noticed us yet.’