Six Days With the Dead

by Stephen Charlick

  The woman at Charlie’s feet was bleeding heavily now, her breath was ragged and it sounded as if one of her lungs may be slowly filling with blood. Alex edged fearfully away from her as far as he could while still holding fast on to the soldier’s leg.

  ‘You are nothing, do you hear me! Nothing! The Lord has damned you and you don’t even know it, you fools!’ the woman managed to say, though the cost of each word was plain to see on her pain etched face.

  ‘Clean and simple,’ he said calmly to Imran, who had come to stand with one leg either side of the woman’s shoulders. Looking down at the pathetically insane woman beneath him, Imran tried to muster up some of the hate he had felt only hours before when he had thought of the revenge he would take for his brother’s death. But all he saw was a deranged woman dying before him.

  ‘You’re nothing! No..th..ing!’ she continued, though her pain now broke the word into its syllables.

  ‘Imran?’ Charlie said, dealing with his own pain that threatened to bring him to his knees.

  At the sound of his name, Imran let go of the bow string. The resulting force shot the arrow through the woman’s skull, pinning it to the hard packed earth floor of the cave.

  ‘You need to save Anne!’ Alex said, managing to choke back his sobs long enough to speak, though his words caught in his breath, ‘Th...They’re going to judge her at the pi...pit, you’ve got to sa...save her.’

  At the mention of her sisters name Liz, ran forward and knelt down to look into Alex’s tear streaked face.

  ‘Please Alex, where is she? Where is Anne?’ she said, a lump rising in her throat. She didn’t like the sound of a pit where people were judged.

  Without saying a word, Alex turned and pointed across the lake to a cave entrance on the opposite shore.

  ‘Th...There’ he replied, his fear of what was in the cave turning the word to nothing more than a whisper of breath.

  ****

  Anne waited alone in darkness with only the Dead children in the pit to keep her company. Despite the pitch blackness in the cave, they still somehow knew she was there, sitting scared but still in the darkness. Their pitiful moaning was constant throughout the day that seemed to stretch on for ever. Occasionally she would hear the sound of their broken and ruined hands slapping against the side of the pit and it terrified her. Every second that passed, she imagined they had somehow been able to climb out of the pit, their Dead faces now centimetres from her own, ready to bite into her. For the first hour or so, Anne had quietly pulled and twisted her hands back and forth in the manacles, hoping to be free. Unfortunately all she achieved were the raw open wounds that now encircled her wrists. Perversely if she survived her judging, she too would bare the wrist scars that the acolytes possessed, but for her they would be nothing but a reminder of pure terror rather than a testament to a faith or rite of passage. When her blood began to flow down her arms, she knew she had only made it worse for herself. With the smell of fresh blood now in the air, the Dead children began their frenzy to get to her with a renewed sense of purpose. She tried to wrap her bleeding wrists in the dead baby’s blanket to cover the smell, but it soon began to seep through.

  She had no idea how long she had sat there but it had seemed like forever. As desperate as she was to leave this place of pointless death, she also dreaded the approach of Ruth and her husband and the possibility of her own death that they brought with them. So when she heard the sound of the row boat being pulled ashore echoing through the tunnel, her stomach twisted with fear and a cold sweat, born of a basic animal panic, broke out over her small and bloody body. She could hear Ruth talking sharply to the Reverend. The words harsh and unforgiving bouncing around in the dark chamber did little to give her hope. If Ruth was in a bad mood over something her husband had done, who knew how her mind would react when he read to her the random Bible verse. Anne did not hold out much hope that Ruth would look kindly on her plight, so with all her heart she prayed Liz would find her in time. The fact that Liz and Charlie would be out there somewhere right now looking for her, she did not doubt in the slightest, but she was so small and the countryside so vast. Hiding in the back of her mind was the growing worry that they would never find her, let alone within the next ten minutes.

  Far sooner than she had wanted, the flickering light from a torch held aloft by Ruth, danced about the chamber.

  ‘Well, have you prayed child?’ Ruth said, peering down her nose at the child at her feet.

  ‘My, you have made a mess of yourself,’ she continued, reaching down to examine Anne’s torn and bloody wrists ‘even when you are on the brink of the abyss, you still spit in the face of God and try to avoid his righteous judgement. He will hunt you out, no matter where you hide and He will look in your soul and know you. I fear the stench of sin is upon you, child. You disappoint me, let us see if the Lord looks upon you more favourably’ With the last word Ruth dug a finger nail viscously into one of the raw wounds on her wrist, making Anne cry out in pain.

  ‘Nathan, unshackle the child,’ Ruth said, barely looking at her husband.

  ‘You will kneel and await the Lord’s judgement on you,’ she continued, as the Reverend took the manacles from Anne’s wrists and forced her closer to the pits edge.

  Kneeling with her knees just shy of the edge of the pit, Anne looked down at the Dead children below her and she knew her time was running out. Ruth had come to stand behind her but not before Anne saw the mad woman draw a long hunting knife from its sheath and clutch it to her chest, a look of barely contained excitement in her cold blue eyes. With one hand wound tightly in Anne’s curls and the knife in the other, Ruth began to murmur her prayers that she had convinced herself would bring her God’s voice to her. Anne could see the glinting knife hovering in the corner of her vision and every so often Ruth’s hand would tighten and then relax about its handle, as if preparing herself for what would come. As before, the Reverend sat enraptured by his wife, a look of pure devotion and awe on his face. In front of him was the closed, battered Bible whose words held Anne’s fate written somewhere on one of its pages. Anne knew that at any moment Ruth would give her husband the signal and her insane trial would begin. Then, almost as the thought flashed through her head, Ruth gave the smallest flick of the knife and the Reverend’s finger began travelling up and down the closed pages awaiting a second signal. With her heart hammering wildly in her chest, the adrenalin and fear pumping through Anne was becoming unbearable for her small body to cope with. Tears flowed uncontrollably, while she sobbed for the insanity and unfairness of it all. At some point she lost control of her bladder, wetting herself but this barely even registered in Anne’s panic ridden mind, as she sat unable to take her eyes away from the moving tips of the Reverend’s fingers. Then the Reverend received the signal he had been waiting for, his hand freezing in place. With the barest of whispers from the pages, the Bible was opened with care, revealing the chosen pages.

  Again the Reverend’s finger began its journey across the two open pages, just waiting for a damning call from God to pause them. With a force of will, Anne made her eyes look away from the book. Nothing she could do or say would affect the outcome that Ruth would ultimately choose for her. So, craning her head slightly to one side, Anne looked up into Ruth’s wild eyes. The woman was looking back at her intently, a strange look on her face as if she was totally disconnected from what she was about to do. Then a scary clarity suddenly appeared behind the cold blue of her eyes, as the corner of Ruth’s mouth rose in an evil smile, the knife flicked sharply again in her hand and the Reverend’s finger stopped moving. Try as she might, Anne could not pull her eyes away from Ruth’s glare. Ruth’s eyes burned with an unholy cold fire, a fire born of the worst of insanity and as they burned into Anne unwaveringly, Anne feared they would consume her forever.

  ‘He taught me and said, Lay hold of my words with all your heart; keep my commands and you will live’ read the Reverend aloud, his finger still perched on the chosen verse.

&nbs
p; Ruth turned her gaze momentarily on her husband, only to return to Anne’s, twisted and cold.

  ‘No!’ Anne managed to say, forcing the words past her lips frozen with fear.

  ‘She is Damned!’ Ruth said, the insane hatred dripping from every syllable. With her eyes, wide in horror, Anne watched Ruth draw her hand holding the knife slowly backwards. ‘She dies!’

  As if in slow motion Anne could see the muscles and tendons of Ruth’s arm tighten and begin to contract. But the instant Ruth moved her arm to slash the knife towards Anne’s throat, an arrow shot from the tunnel, to pin the arm to the wooden post behind her. With a high scream, Ruth dropped the knife to the floor.

  ‘Imran!’ Anne said quietly to herself, relief flooding through her.

  Seeing her chance, Anne pulled away from Ruth with as much strength as she could and fell from the woman’s grip. Anne turned her head to see Liz, Charlie and Imran running into the chamber, all of them with their weapons ready and determined looks on their faces. They meant business.

  Springing to his feet with a wild angry yell, the Reverend charged at Charlie from behind, a glinting knife in his hand.

  ‘Charlie!’ Anne screamed.

  Despite the searing pain flooding through his body, Charlie’s reactions were still too fast for the Reverend. Spinning with a speed born from his years in the army, Charlie met his attacker head on. With an upward thrust of his knife wrist, Charlie caught the Reverend just under the chin. With a horrified gasp from the Reverend, Charlie’s knife continued through skin and tendon, ripped through his tongue and upper mouth and pierced the base of his skull. With eyes wide in shock and as one last spasm shot though his muscles, the Reverend’s limbs fell lifeless to his sides. With a sickening sucking sound, Charlie yanked his knife free of the dead man and let him fall to the floor. The Reverend Nathan Moore’s time on earth had finally come to an end and now he too was to be judged for his sins. Charlie doubted if his God would look favourably on this man who had committed such atrocities in His name.

  ‘No!’ Ruth screamed, her hate for those daring to intrude upon her work, written on her contorted features.

  Anne jumped to her feet and ran to her sister, relief bringing her to shed more tears.

  ‘Lizzy! I knew you’d come for me. I knew!’ Anne sobbed into her sister’s body as she clung to her waist.

  Liz pulled her sister even tighter and thanked God that they had found her in time.

  ‘They’ve got Alex Penhaligan and some other children too. You’ve got to save them,’ Anne said, looking up at Liz’s tear filled eyes.

  ‘It’s ok Anne,’ Imran said, kneeling down to give Anne a fierce hug. ‘Alice is with them, they’re safe now.’

  ‘Anne. Where’s the baby, Anne? Where’s Emma’s baby?’ Liz asked, tilting her sister’s face up to look at her.

  With those words, Anne eyes filled with tears again, as she turned slowly looking towards the pit.

  ‘No…’ Liz whispered, a tightening in her chest changing the sadness to an anger that boiled and rolled within her.

  Stepping around the pit, Liz glanced down at the Dead children held there. As they caught sight of Liz standing over them, they reached up to her with small broken hands, many with fingers and flesh missing consumed by their Dead companions. Pulling her gaze from the sad abominations before her, Liz turned to look at the woman who had caused all this pain and misery.

  ‘You Fucking crazy bitch!’ Liz spat, her anger making the words hard and crisp while the tip of her sword hovered under Ruth’s chin. ‘What have you done!’

  ‘They were worthless, they were nothing but maggots writhing in shit before the eyes of the Lord,’ Ruth shouted with a scream of desperate rage.

  She tried to move past the tip of Liz’s sword, but with the arrow through her arm holding her in place, she only managed to receive a thin gash along her collar bone for her troubles.

  ‘Worthless?!’ Liz said, unable to believe someone could regard another human being with such little compassion, ‘They were just children?’

  ‘They were nothing!’ Ruth spat back, ‘They deserved to die.’

  Liz had heard enough. Images flashed in her mind of the poor Penhaligan family pointlessly slain, of Mr O’Brien’s corpse walking the moon lit beach and the haunted lost expression of Emma, her body savagely ripped open to get to the baby she carried. And then, worst of all, the shroud wrapped bodies of her murdered friends at Lanherne, the blood from their torn and abused bodies still seeping through the sheets as they lay to be buried. In that moment, Liz knew the world would be a better place with this insane murderess removed from it.

  ‘You’re going to burn in hell, Bitch,’ Liz said calmly, now that she had decided what she would do, the anger that threatened to consume her seemed to ebb away.

  This was merely a task to perform, a problem to be resolved. With one smooth motion she drew back her sword, ready to strike. But then, before she could swing it forward to end the life of the woman before her, a gunshot exploded behind her. With a spray of skin, bone and brain matter, the back of Ruth’s head exploded across the back wall of the chamber. Turning, Liz saw Charlie holding the handgun, his face looking flushed and severe.

  ‘You didn’t need her death stalking your… dreams,’ Charlie said, a sharp intake of breath strangely breaking his words.

  With the echo of the shot bouncing back and forth in the chamber, Liz looked at the slumped figure still pinned to the post and knew it was finally over. Like a fairy tale, they had stopped a monster who bathed in the blood of the innocent. The good guys had won and all was just as it should be.

  Charlie looked down at the clambering Dead children in the pit, their withered and torn limbs reaching desperately for the flesh above them. Shaking his head slowly back and forth, Charlie lifted the gun to take aim at the first of the stolen children. Shot after shot echoed through the cavern and when finally the last child fell, finally at rest, Charlie automatically reloaded the gun.

  ‘Tell William, we found his nephew,’ Charlie said with a sigh as he looked down at the small child wearing the bloody, tattered remains of a Sponge Bob t-shirt.

  ‘Let’s go home,’ she said, picking Anne up in her arms as the echo of the final shot slowly faded.

  ‘I’m not coming Liz,’ Charlie said, softly. His words stopping her mid movement

  ‘Don’t be stupid of course you’re coming,’ Liz said, not understanding why Charlie was talking like this.

  ‘No Liz, I can’t come back with you.… Not now,’ he replied, his stare fixing her in place, as tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

  Nothing more was said between them but somehow Liz knew. The Dead man who had attacked him outside. Charlie had lied when he said he was alright. There had been a twist at the end of this fairy tale, a price would to be paid for deeds done and that price was Charlie.

  ‘No!’ Liz whispered, as she felt her world falling away from her.

  Charlie had always been there for her, it was impossible for her now to imagine a future time without him.

  ‘What?’ Anne said, looking from Charlie to her sister, confused.

  Liz looked down at Anne and instantly Anne knew.

  ‘No!’ Anne screamed running from Liz into Charlie’s arms, ‘No, it’s not fair. It’s not fair.’

  ‘I know,’ Charlie, said cradling the weeping girls in his arms, ‘life stopped being fair seven years ago, sweetheart.’

  Charlie kissed the top of Anne’s head and looked up at Imran and Liz.

  ‘You have to take care of them now. All of them,’ Charlie could tell he didn’t have long and there were some things he needed to say. ‘Son, your parents would’ve been so proud of the man you’ve become. Never forget that. And Lizzy, meeting you and Anne, being part of your lives, that’s the only good thing that’s come out of these last years. I love you both so much, in my heart you are my daughters and know that I will always love you.

  Liz had fallen to her knees and her arms had
joined her sisters wrapped around the man who had truly been a father to them. He had saved their lives countless times and given them the tools they would to survive in this world of the Dead.

  ‘I love you,’ Liz wept into his shoulder, ‘Please don’t go… don’t leave us.’

  ‘Lizzy, please..’ Charlie said, his own tears flowing freely, as the pain tore at him inside ‘If there was any way, I would… Please, you’ve got to go now. Please’ A painful cough wracked through him, blood speckling his lips. ‘Tell Alice I’m sorry and … and tell her I loved her.’

  Liz sat back on her heals and through her tears, stared into the face of a hero. She leant forward and kissed him a final goodbye on his forehead. Liz could see he was nearing the end and she knew it would be an insult to his life to let Charlie come back as one of the Dead. With a small nod, Liz began to prise Anne tight fists from Charlie’s shirt.

  ‘Come on Anne, we need to go. We have to go,’ she whispered, ‘Please Anne…’

  But Anne held on, refusing to let go of the only man who had been her father. Eventually Imran had to help Liz pull Anne’s small kicking and crying body away from Charlie.

  ‘Daddy!’ she cried, reaching for Charlie, overwhelmed with the grief.

  And as Liz and Imran pulled a distraught Anne back to the boat through the dark tunnel, they heard Charlie’s words call after them.

  ‘I love you!’ and then the sound of a single gunshot stopped them in their tracks.

  Holding each other in the dark tunnel, Liz, Anne and Imran wept for the man who had forged a safe life for so many. They wept for a father taken from them so unjustly and for a man who was truly a hero. They wept for all that could have been and for what now would never be. They wept for their Charlie. They wept for themselves.

  EPILOGUE : 6 MONTHS LATER

  ‘Are you sure you’re ok, do you need anything?’ Imran asked Liz, giving her large distended belly an affectionate rub.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. Honestly you’d think I was the first woman to get pregnant,’ she replied, looking down at Imran’s smiling face.