Devouring The Dead (Book 2): Nemesis

by Watts, Russ

  When he reached the castle door, one of Lazarus’ henchmen let him in, a stout surly man by the name of Honok. He had been a labourer before the infection. Now he was a sort of bodyguard, entrusted with the keys to the castle, literally. Honok disliked Tim, thinking he was weak and cowardly.

  “What do you want, Timmy, you should be working,” asked Honok curtly.

  Tim shook himself dry in the grand entrance, shedding his sodden jumper and using it to dry his face and hair. “Need to see Lazarus. Now. Important news. Very important.” Tim spoke in quick short sentences, practically hopping from foot to foot so keen was he to see Lazarus before he forgot the radio conversation.

  Honok raised one eyebrow. “At this time of night? I think it’ll wait, don’t you? Get back to work.” He folded his arms and stood before the main stairway that Tim knew led up to Lazarus’ room.

  Tim took a step toward Honok. “I said it’s important. Do you think I don’t know what’ll happen to me if I disturb him and it’s not. Let me up there or face Lazarus in the morning. Your call.”

  Honk thought for a moment, and then stood aside. “Fine.” He cracked his hairy knuckles. “I’ll be waiting down here for you, Timmy.”

  Tim bounded up the stairs two at a time and raced toward Lazarus’ room. He almost burst straight in, but then thought better of it and knocked on the door. He waited a moment then knocked again. He heard grunting sounds inside and began to doubt himself. Perhaps he should’ve waited until morning. Waking his boss up in the middle of the night wasn’t the best idea he had lately. Before he could slink away, the door was thrown open and Lazarus stood before him wearing an unbuttoned black shirt and jeans.

  “Tim? What is it?” Lazarus was clearly surprised to see him. “You look terrible.”

  Tim looked over Lazarus’ shoulder and saw the figure of a woman on the bed. He heard a faint groan before Lazarus took a step into the corridor and shut the bedroom door.

  “I heard something, sir, on the radio, just now.”

  “Well, I hope it was something important, Tim, for your sake. I don’t like to be interrupted when I’m...busy.” Lazarus’s lips curled into a half smile, but his dark eyes never left Tim’s.

  “It was a naval boat, sir,” Tim went on. He thrust out a handful of soggy papers. “I made a few notes for you. It’s nearly all there. I wrote down what I could. It was the British Navy, sir, they’re here!”

  Lazarus motioned for Tim to sit down as he scanned the wet pulp in his hands. “Go on and tell me what you heard,” he demanded, frowning.

  Tim had expected Lazarus to be pleased. He hadn’t imagined he would be jumping up and down with joy, but he had thought what he had heard was a good thing. Lazarus’ grave demeanour caught Tim off guard. “Well, I came upon it by luck more than anything. I thought I’d tried the CNR bands and at first I got nothing, but then...It was the HMS Daring. They’re somewhere south of here by the sounds of it. I heard an Admiral McCulloch talking. He was corresponding with a Henry Samson, a Captain, I think. It was hard to tell - sometimes the frequency distorted what they were saying. This Henry Samson bloke was definitely American, sir. I’m sure he said he was stationed on the USS Abraham Lincoln.”

  “And you heard this, just now?” asked Lazarus.

  “Absolutely, and the things they were saying...” Tim’s mouth was open, still in shock at what he had heard.

  “Well, go on then, Tim,” said Lazarus, his patience growing thin.

  “This Henry Samson was talking to the Brit, the Admiral McCulloch. He said they were on a rendezvous with the USS Gerald Ford in the Caribbean. Apparently, both ships were on naval duties in the Atlantic, some kind of war-games or something, when the infection broke out. They were ordered to patrol the US coastline, but a week after the infection started, they had received no further orders or contact from the mainland. They had been in touch with each other and remained out at sea, unsure if they should try to dock or keep their last ordered positions.

  “Samson said he’d been trying various frequencies to get in touch with command, but hadn’t been able to raise anyone. From the sounds of the conversation, I’d say they had only just begun talking with each other, sir. McCulloch had told a pretty similar story. He told the yanks about the evacuation of Britain, but that it largely failed, as there was nowhere to go to. The infection was worldwide. Too many of the evacuation ships the navy used unwittingly took on infected people and were eventually overrun. He said there was only themselves, the HMS Daring and one other ship he had maintained contact with, the HMS Illustrious. Both are somewhere close, I think, but he didn’t say where exactly.”

  Lazarus let out a long sigh and drew up another chair to sit down beside Tim. “Why where they so open with each other? I mean I know we’re long-time allies, but still, these are...tense times to say the least. They must be on a war footing. How come they were so...trusting?”

  “That’s what I thought at first too, sir. McCulloch told Samson that effectively the chain of command had broken down. With the governments collapsed and the military broken, then the infrastructure of their operations was compromised. He said normal protocol would be for radio silence, but and I quote, ‘This is war. Fuck protocols. We are leaderless. Britain is under attack and we have to act before she is lost.’

  “Samson said they would stand side to side with McCulloch and they started to talk about formulating some sort of plan, some way of attacking the infection and killing the dead. They began to suggest meeting somewhere, perhaps in the Caribbean where they could replenish stocks from a small military base and meet. Then the reception started to die out and I came here to tell you.”

  Lazarus looked at Tim’s scribbled notes. “Did they say anything about what the infection is or how they might fight back?”

  “No, not that I heard, sir.”

  They sat in silence for five minutes and Tim began to wonder if he should leave before Lazarus spoke again.

  “Tim, I assume you haven’t told anyone else about this?” Lazarus swept his hands through his thick black hair.

  Tim shook his head. “Nobody, not even Walker.”

  “Good. I’ll fill Walker in. You’ve done well, Tim. Don’t tell anyone else about this though. If rumours start going around the Mount about the US Navy riding into town, we’ll have anarchy. No, we need to keep this under our hat for now and get organised. I want you to rest tonight. Go get Ed, will you? He can take over radio duties from you for the rest of the night.

  “We’re going to need some things from town. We’ll send a scouting party out in the morning. You can be a part of it if you like, Tim. You’ve done well and I know you wanted to get out ‘in the field,’ so to speak. I’ll send Walker to wake you at 0700, all right?”

  “Yes sir, absolutely.” Tim left the castle, excited about the prospect of going onto the mainland tomorrow.

  Lazarus returned to his bedroom in deep thought. Keisha lay on the bed groaning. A huge overhead candelabrum lit the room.

  “Shut up, I need to think,” he said casting Tim’s notes onto a desk. He rested against the desk, pondering how best to use this information. So they weren’t alone. Some remnants of the old world still lived; a throwback to the good old days, when the Empire ruled the waves and man would die for King and Country. It was quite amazing. He had not expected to hear such news, especially so long after the infection. There was no doubt, who ruled the kingdom now and that was the zombies, apart from Lazarus’ kingdom, that is.

  “Let me go, let me go!” Keisha began to shout and tug on the ropes causing the bed to shake and creak.

  “Very well,” said Lazarus. “I’m sick of you now anyway. I have far more important things to consider.”

  He pulled a knife from the desk drawer and strode over to Keisha. She smiled at him as he held the knife over her, pleased he was finally going to cut the ties that bound her to the bed. He was human after all. After so much humiliation and degradation, she never thought he would finally let her go. T
ears welled up in her eyes as she thought about freedom.

  Lazarus plunged the knife into her throat and blood spurted out over his face and shirt. Keisha’s body struggled, but as her bright blood spread over the stained sheets, she was helpless as she began to die, choking on her own blood, unable to draw one more breath. When she was dead, Lazarus cut the ropes from her arms and picked her up. He scooped up her body and carried it over to a window. He put her down for a moment while he opened it. Rain and wind forced the windows back against the outside wall and he picked her up. With casual ease, he threw her from the window and watched satisfactorily as her lifeless body flailed through the storm onto the rocks below. Her body smashed onto the granite boulders below the castle and into the roaring waves of the ocean, drifting quickly out of sight beneath the churning water and white foam.

  * * * *

  Jackson stood in the master bedroom, peering through the curtains carefully. It had the largest windows and he shared it with Harry. It offered a view over the whole street. The house sat up on a slight ridge and therefore elevated above the others on the street. Behind it were fields of crops, now growing abundantly, unharvested and untouched by human hand or by mechanical intervention.

  They found the house by chance a few days ago, looking for somewhere to stay. Its occupants had clearly left and it was unusual in that it had no doors at street level. The only access was down a gated driveway from the main street and into a garage which had internal access to the building. They had been able to come and go with relative ease. The few zombies that managed to follow the van to the garage could not get to the house and over the night eventually stumbled away. They could not see, smell or sense the living and so lost interest.

  The house had four bedrooms and plenty of space. Christina and Cat shared one room, Jess and Rosa another, Tom and Laurent the third, and Jackson and Harry the master bedroom. Moira was happy with the sofa and preferred the privacy it gave her. Despite the protestations of the others, she would not relinquish her solitude for a night in a shared bed with anyone.

  Harry entered the room. “Jackson, what’s going on, I hear Tom’s not back yet?”

  It was dark outside now, approaching nine thirty. They had all reluctantly eaten Harry and Moira’s bounty upon their return. Jess wanted to wait, to go looking for Tom and Laurent, but had agreed it was better to eat than wait indefinitely. She had eaten only half the amount the others had.

  “I’m trying not to worry for now,” said Jackson. “On the plus side, there’s nothing else out there. The street’s empty.”

  Harry took a look. Aside from a few cars parked up by the side of the road, it was all quiet. They knew all the houses might not be empty, but they didn’t risk going where they didn’t need to. The road was wet and shiny from the rain and the wind was blowing a gale.

  “Jess suggested we go looking for them, but I think we’re better off waiting,” said Jackson to Harry.

  “It could be nothing more than a bit of engine trouble. No need to panic yet,” said Harry.

  Jackson left the window and sat down on a chest full of clothes left behind by the home owners. “How did you go today?”

  “Not bad. Moira found some grub as you know and I just handed over all the medicinal stuff I could find to Christina. I think some of it will be useful, especially for Cat. She’s looking more and more tired these days.”

  “Poor girl, carrying a baby around with her is hard work. She’s not really eating the right stuff, but what can we do?”

  Harry sat down on the bed opposite Jackson. They hadn’t bothered lighting any candles or torches, preferring to save them as much as possible. They sat in the gloomy room together and talked.

  “Moira still handling herself well?” asked Jackson.

  “Sure is. We have to remember she kept herself alive out there for a long time before we bumped into her. She can handle herself.”

  “And you? How are you doing, Harry?”

  “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Well, given the circumstances and with Benzo passing, you know, no one would blame you if you needed to take it easy. I can go out there and do the runs with Moira if you want me to. You can stay inside and just keep watch, help the girls,” said Jackson.

  “Seriously, Jackson, thanks, but no. I’m better off out there, doing something. I never was one for sitting on my laurels. I think about Benzo a lot. I’m glad I got to say goodbye to him, that’s more than most can say. I think about all my family, but there’s no point dwelling on it too much. We’ve all lost someone.”

  “True,” said Jackson playing with his wedding band, “Very true.”

  Suddenly, the room was lit up with a bright white light.

  “That’s the van!” shouted Harry jumping up. He and Jackson peered through the curtains and sure enough the van was hurtling down the driveway at high speed. They could see Tom driving, but the figure next to him looked strange, not like Laurent. There were people in the backseat too, although how many they couldn’t tell.

  “Looks like Tom’s brought visitors,” said Jackson. “Come on, we’d better get down there.”

  Harry and Jackson ran out of the bedroom and downstairs into the lounge. The others were all sitting together, looking at an A-Z of the area they had found.

  “Tom’s back,” said Harry. He and Jackson continued running through another doorway and down the stairwell to the garage.

  Jess jumped up. “Is he okay? Is Laurent with him?”

  “I’m sure they’ll both be fine,” said Christina. “Tom’s got us through quite a few scrapes just fine, hasn’t he? He knows what he’s doing, Jess.”

  Rosa had gone over to the lounge window and opened a chink in the middle. She looked out over the driveway as the van drove into the garage.

  “Oh fuck,” she said quietly.

  Behind the van the driveway was filling up with the dead. Hundreds and hundreds of zombies were running after the van, lurching violently against one another like a cresting wave, pouring and fighting over each other to get ahead and reach the van.

  “Holy fuck-a-doodle-do,” said Rosa as the garage door swung shut. A horde of zombies immediately piled up against it, hammering at it, trying to break it down and force their way in. More and more of them kept coming, filling the driveway completely. Some at the back were burning, despite the rain, and the wind carried the smell of burning flesh to her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Glenda looked around the strange new house, clutching her husband’s hand tightly. There was a calendar on the wall, hanging from a hook beside a corkboard full of curled up postcards and faded business cards. A date was marked on the calendar, circled in big red ink: ‘Jack’s 21st.’ A post it note had been tacked onto the board beneath it, upon which someone had scribbled: ‘Buy Jack a BIG present!’ followed by a smiley face. The rest of the room was dark. They had blown out the candles in an attempt to hide, hoping the zombies that followed them would dissipate. They hadn’t.

  She wondered who Jack was and what he would think of them sitting on their sofa and drinking their wine. She had drunk a large glass already and was still worried about their new situation. Their home and business of thirty years had gone up in smoke and they were forced to leave everything behind. She had the clothes on her back and that was all. The man, who had saved them, Tom, was currently in discussion with two older men in the corner, whispering in the shadows. She didn't like it. She didn’t know these men. What if they weren’t as friendly as they seemed or what if they were plotting against her, Daniel, and Heidi?

  “Did you hear that, Glenda?” asked Daniel.

  “Sorry, love, I was, um...what did you say?” Glenda took a large gulp of cool wine and tried to relax. There were four women sitting across from her and Daniel, and she had already forgotten their names.

  “Christina here says Cat is pregnant. Nearly six months, would you believe? That’s why they were out in the van, looking for a hospital. It’s lucky they came across u
s, don’t you think? My goodness.”

  “Very lucky from what I hear,” said Christina. “Glenda, are you sure you’re okay? You’re quite safe here.”

  Glenda cast a look at the window, but of course, she couldn’t see anything through the thick red curtains. Christina could sense the woman’s understandable concern. Her husband, Daniel, seemed less worried, understanding they were in as good a position as they could be for the time being. Glenda had said almost nothing since arriving. Daniel however had hung on Christina’s every word. It had been quite some time since they had met anyone else living.

  “What about..?” Glenda paused. “What about them? The dead ones? What if they get in here...what if..?”

  “They won’t.” A tall pale woman came downstairs. Through the curtains a sliver of moonlight shone and Glenda saw a flash of red hair. “I’ve been watching from upstairs. They can’t get in. Not for a good while anyway. It’ll take them forever to batter down that door. Even then, they have to get through another two doors to get up here.”

  “And you are?” asked Daniel.

  The red headed woman strode past them into the kitchen and came back a moment later with a drink. She ignored everyone and went straight to the curtains where she parted them slightly with lean fingers. She remained there, watching the dead outside funnel down the driveway, some still burning. From the faint light, Daniel could see her face was set tight, her eyes locked rigidly on whatever she was watching outside. Her thin lips were pursed together and she took only small sips from whatever drink she had made herself.

  “Is she all right?” asked Daniel quietly.

  “Moira’s just fine,” said Christina. “She’s quiet, but...”

  “I’m not much of a storyteller,” said Moira sitting down quietly on a chair by the window. She seemed absent, as though her thoughts were elsewhere. She sat with her hands clasped in front of her and refused to be drawn any further.