Death Said No

by Talia Mason

  Suddenly Gracie's moment of relief and joy was shattered by a loud crash coming from one of the rooms she had just checked.

  She stood frozen, torn between opening the door and facing whatever was behind it and retracing her footsteps all the way back to her vulnerable little house with its flimsy wooden fence surrounded by the very creatures that would eventually feast on her innards if she had remained there.

  Gracie had known from the very first notion of her plan to find more suitable accommodation that she may have to fight and kill to take it, but now that that moment was upon her terror stripped her of all motivation.

  She knew that the longer she stood there undecided the longer she risked the possibility of an undead from the unchecked upper floors of the house finding her and then she could be facing two of the foul creatures, one behind this door and one blocking her escape.

  Impulsively on her last thought Gracie turned the handle, juggling the door handle, flashlight and the sword that she once again held at the ready.

  She shone the beam of the torch around what appeared to be a pantry, terrified that she might illuminate one of the foul rotting creatures whilst praying that she saw it before it attacked her.

  Along one wall was a row of fridges and freezers, the opposite wall was lined with shelves and in the back wall was another door which she cautiously edged towards kicking a large empty cake tin as she did so.

  Well that explained the bang but what caused it to fall from the shelf where the others of its kind were stacked? Gracie wondered.

  As she reached the door and tried its handle Gracie found it to be locked with the key still in the pantry side of the lock, unlocking and opening the door Gracie found it to lead to the cellar stairs.

  Since the door had been locked from the outside Gracie thought it safe to suppose that there would be nothing lurking in the darkness below that might prove to cause immediate concern and re-locked the door and turned to head towards the upper floors to continue her checks of the rooms.

  Just as she was about to exit the pantry Gracie was startled by a movement at the edge of her vision.

  Spinning round she came face to face with a rather disgruntled and scrawny looking cat that began to hiss and spit now that it had been discovered.

  Terrified that the mangy looking moggy would alert any other of the houses other possible residents to her existence she snatched up a can of tuna from the shelf that luckily opened by ring pull, opened it and placed it on the shelf to mollify the now curious cat.

  After placing another open can by the first, just to be sure the cat stayed occupied a while longer Gracie closed the door swearing to herself she would return to release it later, that is if she survived the night without being eaten or dying of a heart attack, if that was even a possibility for her.

  Each of the rooms on the upper floors were clear of anything more threatening than the occasional spider and by the time Gracie had returned to the pantry to release the cat, who was quite happily dozing on the shelf by the empty tuna cans and was none too grateful for the further disturbance, early morning light was beginning to brighten the kitchens interior.

  During her search of the house for any undead Gracie discovered, apart from having the old coal fires that she had hoped it would have and the old wood or coal burning range stove, it also still had fully functional shutters at its windows.

  Some of the rooms still had old fashioned and long unused oil lamps on tables and mantles, a few had been modified with electrical cables and modern light bulbs, but most would need little more than new wicks and oil to make them ready for use.

  Once she was sure that the house and grounds were free of the undead Gracie ran quickly to the end of the drive in the hope that the heavy iron gates were operational and would give her a little more protection until she could close all of the shutters on the house's windows.

  The gates, although partially covered with some kind of climbing weed, seemed to be in working order and after a great deal of pushing and shoving they were finally closed.

  Only then did the problem of securing them occur to her.

  In the country silence all Gracie could hear was the sound of early morning birdsong and the crunch of her boots on the gravel driveway as she looked around for a solution to this new problem.

  A few yards from the gates stood an old stable block that looked to Gracie as she imagined it would have a hundred years ago in the early mornings dim light, she quickly made her way along the gravel driveway towards the first blue painted door.

  The stables were all unlocked and empty of anything but cobwebs and it seemed to Gracie that they had not been used for some time.

  It occurred to Gracie, as she entered the first of the stables, which she had neglected to check any of the outbuildings for any threat from the undead.

  It took longer than she had hoped or expected to check the five stables and tack room and she found nothing but long unused equine equipment and a great degree of dust and grime.

  The emotional stress and recent lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll dragging at Gracie until all she could think of was lying down in some hidden corner and sleeping.

  As she jogged once again towards the house Gracie's legs felt like lead and her muscles burned as the growing exhaustion weighed her down making her feel as though she was carrying twice her own weight.

  When she reached the house Gracie continued past the front door and around the side of the building in search of wherever gardening equipment and the like would be kept.

  Finding another row of three brick outbuilding beyond the greenhouses at the end of the garden she guessed that this was where she would find, if such a thing was to be found, something to secure the gate.

  The first of the outbuildings was filled with garden furniture and a large stack of firewood, the second was a potting shed but the third was where she found what she had been looking for.

  The shed was packed full of various tools and DIY paraphernalia and after a few minutes of rummaging about Gracie came across a small length of thick chain, putting that to one side she continued her search in the hopes of finding a padlock.

  Just as she was about to quit her search in despair Gracie looked up to find the very thing that she was looking for, hanging on a nail in the wall with one of its keys in the keyhole and the other dangling down, swinging on its ring from the vibrations of the drawer she had just slammed shut.

  Moments later the gate was chained and locked and Gracie was back within the house with the front door shut behind her and was beginning a new search, this time for keys to the heavy oak front door.

  After searching the kitchen and the small study to no avail she went back to the front door to consider how to best bar the door against any attacker that managed to make their way past the gates or wall.

  Brain fogged by exhaustion and unable to think straight Gracie sank down on the stairs, her head in her hands, at a loss what to do next to solve this obvious flaw in her plan.

  It was as she again looked up that she noticed the obvious place the keys might be, on the table by the door there was a bowl.

  Grabbing the handrail Gracie dragged herself up from the step afraid of believing that they would actually be there, after all it was just too much to hope for, but when she stood looking down into the bowl not only was there one set of keys but two.

  Gracie snatched up a set of the keys and ran outside to close the doors of the Range Rover before locking the front door of her new home.

  Exhausted and safe in the knowledge that the house and grounds were secured and that she would be safe from the attentions of the undead Gracie snatched up her bag from besides the locked front door and went into the large sitting room just off the hallway.

  Placing the backpack on the large glass coffee table Gracie sank down onto the brown leather sofa to rummage around in the bottom of the bag and produced a couple of cereal bars and two cartons of orange juice.

  After wolfing down the cere
al bars and washing them down with one of the cartons of fruit juice Gracie kicked off her shoes and lay down on the soft Leather sofa, pulling the throw off of its back and wrapping it around herself for what was meant to be a brief nap.

  It was hours later when Gracie awoke and night was beginning to set in once more.

  As she stood at the window staring up at the sky she found that it had turned the same colour as the bruises that had bloomed on her legs and elbows from a night spent stumbling about in dark fields and jumping ditches.

  The thought of the mud that had clung to her made Gracie turn guiltily back towards the sofa.

  She had still been wet and muddied when she had laid down to sleep that morning and now the blanket and the leather of the sofa were covered in streaks and smears of mud where she had laid, as was the floor around where she had left her muddy boots.

  Had she not been so exhausted that morning she would have been more careful of the house that she was an uninvited guest in as there was always the slight possibility, however small, that the owners may have survived and may one day return.

  Vowing that she would clean up the mess that she had made later Gracie took the keys from the lock in the front door and went through the kitchen and mudroom to the back door.

  It took Gracie a few tries before she found the key that would unlock the door, allowing her access to the rear garden but once she had she was soon on her way down the garden path to the sheds at its end.

  Gracie went to the tool shed where she had seen a wheelbarrow earlier in the day and took the barrow to the wood shed and filled it as full as she could without the thick logs toppling to the floor.

  It was heavier than she had expected it to be and was thankful that the garden path was evenly laid so that there were no bumps or lumps to struggle over on her way back up the garden to the house.

  Gracie stacked the logs in the mudroom before returning to the shed for another barrow load of wood to add to the store within the safety of the house's walls.

  It was just becoming fully dark as she positioned the barrow by the back door to be moved the next morning when the darkness that might hide the undead had given way to light.

  It only took a few minutes to clean out the cold firebox of the range and empty the ash pan into the metal dustbin, by the barrow, just outside the back door.

  She soon had the fire lit and raging as it consumed the logs that she had set in the firebox of the range and was filling the room with warmth and warding off the chill that had clung to the house since she had arrived.

  Now that the kitchen was becoming warmer the smell from the discarded shopping on the table was becoming unbearable.

  Gracie snatched up the bags and after checking that none of the putrid liquid that had once possibly been fruit was leaking out of the bottom of the bag took them outside and dumped them in the wheel barrow to be dealt with in the light of day.

  Relieved that the majority of the stench had left with the bags Gracie decided to explore the cellar and snatched up the flashlight that she had left on the kitchen table as the light of that morning had begun to filter through the houses windows.

  Gracie pulled open the pantry door and was reminded by the ginger streak of fur as the cat ran passed her that she had forgot to let it out of the pantry before she had fallen asleep on the sofa that morning.

  Feeling more than a little guilty about leaving the cat locked in the pantry all day Gracie hunted the pantry's shelves in search of a can of cat food, not wanting to feed the animal all of the food that she herself may need in the not too distant future.

  On the bottom shelf of the pantry by the door she found a stack of four twenty four pack crates of cat food, prized one free of the grip of its polythene wrapper and returned to the kitchen to find the cats dishes.

  She found two saucers on the counter by the back door and then hunted from drawer to drawer until she found the one that contained cutlery.

  After forking the meat out of the can onto one of the saucers and filling the other with the now slightly stale water from the tap at the kitchen sink Gracie returned to the pantry and turned the key in the cellar door.

  It was just as Gracie was about to turn the handle to open the cellar door when she was struck by a thought that made her week terror.

  What if this door was locked because the true owners of this house had cornered and trapped one of the undead down in the cellar?

  After locking the door once more Gracie returned to the sitting room and grabbed one of the swords from the glass surface of the coffee table where she had left them, by her backpack, when she had fallen asleep that morning.

  "Third time lucky" Gracie said to the cat when she noticed that it had crept out of its hiding place, lured by the aroma of the plate of cat food. But the cat only grumbled in response.

  Again Gracie unlocked the cellar door before standing on the top step, waiting, listening for the sound of some movement no matter how small that might give away the fact that there were some monster that were not as dead as he, or she, should be down there waiting for its next meal to stumble upon it.

  The torch lit descent into the cellar wasn’t as creepy as Gracie had imagined it would be Even with the ever present fear that the undead may be lurking in every shadow nagging at her.

  Shining the beam of light from her torch around the large subterranean room revealed that the room was used for storage of a variety of items and did not hide an undead member of the family who had lived in the house.

  One corner was filled with furniture, Parts of old beds and tables were leant up against the wall with broken chairs and scratched coffee tables stacked up in front of them.

  There were shelves filled with what looked to Gracie like fishing gear and more shelves filled with tools and paint cans that had never found their way back to the tool shed.

  In the far corner there was a big wooden wash tub that resembled a half barrel but was big enough for a grown man to sit in and was filled with hand washing items that Gracie had once seen the likes of in her great grandmothers shed.

  Gracie could foresee the tub, mangle, washboard, dolly and posser getting a lot of use now that there were no longer any electric washing machines.

  She made a note to herself that once she had finished exploring the cellar she should drag the items up to the scullery off the kitchen ready to be used to remove the mud that clung to her clothes.

  Gracie examined the posser that looked like a long handled sink plunger made of copper with holes all the way around its domed head and the dolly that looked like a small three-legged stool on a broom handle.

  She imagined that the utensils would make the removal of mud and grass stains from her clothes a much easier job than just scrubbing them in the sink as she had intended.

  Along another wall, Gracie found a rack filled with dusty wine bottles and as she stepped forward to have a better look she noticed another door at the edge of the circle of light that her torch cast on the rack and the wall beyond its end.

  Stepping closer to have a better look at the door she found that it was secured by a huge bolt that looked as though it had not been drawn for many years.

  Grasping the bolts small handle she tried to draw it to an unlocked position but it would not budge no matter how hard she had tugged at it.

  Crossing the cellar to the shelves where she had seen the tools Gracie picked up a hammer before she saw an aerosol can of lubricant, grabbing this too she went back to the door and pulled the narrow straw free of the rubber band that held it to the can.

  Gracie inserted the straw into the spray nozzle of the can and directed the free end of the straw into the gaps in the bolts casings as she sprayed the lubricant and hoped that it would make a difference.

  Discarding the can on the wine rack, Gracie then used the hammer to tap the bolt in the right direction.

  It moved the barest fraction, so encouraged by the slight movement she hit it again and again, cursing as she grazed her knuckles on the
peeling paint of the door, until it had moved all the way to the open position and the door swung open.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Shining the beam of her torch through the open doorway revealed a long narrow room that was much colder than the main cellar.

  She discovered that the room’s floor had a raised stone area capped with heavy wooden trapdoors and to one end of this raised area in the frame of the trap door emerged two thick copper pipes that ran up the wall to disappear through the ceiling above.

  At first Gracie was baffled by the discovery but slowly it began to dawn on her exactly what she had found... It was a well.

  The pipes raised still more questions.

  Had there been some type of pump at the other end of the pipes?

  Would it still be there and if it were would it still work after all of this time?