Killing the Dead (Book 12): Fear the Reaper

by Murray, Richard

  There were some fifteen-people gathered there. Terrified, filthy and eyeing the hanging zombies with almost as much fear as the one chained to the wall. A Fist of my faithful surrounded them, weapons in hand.

  “What is this?”

  If they were raiders, they would be brought to me with their hands bound. Refugees would be given food, water and some rest before being delivered to Lou. I watched the group of people warily.

  Men and women, young and old. A mixed group with at least three children I could see, all under the age of ten. That was a surprise since few children managed to survive that long, especially out in the city.

  “My Lord Death,” the Fist Leader spoke, her tone reverent as she bowed before me.

  The refugees looked at me with surprise and fear on their faces. One of the children, a little girl, began to cry.

  “We found them by the concert hall,” the Fist Leader said as though that meant something to me.

  A frown formed on my brow as I studied them. The concert hall was several kilometres to the east and that meant they had been brought to us through the subway tunnels. That was fairly standard as we used those tunnels to traverse the city. Why then, make a point of it?

  “As My Lord Death is well aware,” Samuel said. “A group of raiders have been making a nuisance of themselves near there.”

  “Indeed,” I said with a polite nod of thanks for the reminder.

  “We found them,” the Fist Leader said and swallowed hard before continuing. “They was all dead.”

  “They were?”

  “Torn apart and thrown around like rag dolls.”

  “Intriguing,” I said with a curious look towards the chained zombie. “Any of them eaten?”

  “Not so far as we could tell, no,” she replied. “Something was watching us though, I’m sure of it.”

  “Watching you?”

  “You secured the subway station?” Samuel asked, taking a step towards the acolyte.

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “Two guards to watch for any living people and the gate secured with a padlock and chain.”

  Torn apart and not devoured. That was a new and unpleasant development. Not least because I’d been looking forward to dealing with the raiders myself. No, something had killed them and left them as what? A warning? Was it marking its territory?

  I looked hard at the Zombie Leader and considered that. What if it was just one of several of its kind. Each of them rising up and taking control of their own territory. Why not? Animals did it all the time, marking out what was theirs. Humans too.

  “Feed these people,” I said as the little girl continued to cry. “See to their needs and take them straight to join the other Living.”

  “As you command, My Lord Death,” the acolyte said with a deep bow.

  I ignored her and turned to Samuel, waiting for them all to file out before speaking.

  “Don’t send everyone out tomorrow.”

  He raised one eyebrow in query, barely visible behind the stupid cloth hood I’d suggested everyone wear. Not my brightest idea considering how awkward it made it to communicate at times.

  “We’ll leave the sentries out and a skeleton force here to ensure everything doesn’t fall apart. Two Fists though will come with us.”

  “Us?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow, you and I are going out hunting.”

  Chapter 23 – Lily

  Admiral Stuart steepled his fingers and narrowed his eyes as he stared at me with those grey eyes of his that seemed to pierce me to my very core. I ached to wipe the beads of sweat from my brow but I forced myself to stand at rigid attention.

  “Let me see if I have this right,” he said in the soft tones of a man who was about to deliver the world’s biggest bollocking to his subordinate.

  “We have a fanatical group of fighters out there who spend their days killing zombies and rescuing survivors.”

  “Sir,” I said by way of agreement.

  “This group, are led by someone they believe is a God…”

  “Death, sir.”

  “Oh, of course, not a God. They believe their leader is Death in human form.”

  They weren’t that far off if I were honest. He’d likely killed more people and zombies that most other survivors and if anyone loved taking lives as much as Death, it was Ryan.

  “This leader,” the Admiral continued. “Also happens to be your ex-boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend is maybe not the best term for what we were, sir,” I said with a weak smile.

  “I thought you were sensible,” he said.

  There wasn’t much I could say to that. A year ago, if anyone had even suggested that I would fall in love with a serial killer who would one day become the leader of a death-obsessed cult, I would have laughed at them. Now, it wasn’t so funny.

  “Will they help us?” he asked. “You know him, so you tell me, will he help us?”

  “Yes,” I said, confident of that at least. “For whatever reason…” because of me, “he’s willing to help people.”

  The Admiral sighed and ran his hands over his close-cropped hair. He leant back in the office chair and watched me with those pale grey eyes of his that I found so very striking. Finally, he nodded.

  “Will he help us with the shipyards?”

  Well, that was a question I hadn’t really expected, though I guessed that I should have. Our primary goal was to find materials to repair the fleet. Our ships were starting to fail and without repair, our numbers would be reduced which would limit what we could do.

  “If I asked him to, I think he would,” I said. I hope.

  “Then, that is what we’ll do,” the Admiral said. “We need that shipyard, almost as much as we need food and the other supplies.”

  For the first time, I noted the strain showing in the fresh lines at the corners of his eyes, the crease in his brow and weariness he wore like a cloak. He was exhausted and had the weight of saving the entire human race on his shoulders.

  As much as he’d done, setting up councils and an interim government, they still deferred to him. He was the saviour of humanity. He’d taken his destroyer with a skeleton crew of survivors and begun to round up every other boat he could find.

  He was the man who had united those boats into one fleet, capable of defending itself against pirates and mutiny. He was the one who had begun rescuing people from the coast, leading troops ashore to hold off the undead until every last living person was rescued.

  There was much to admire about the man I stood before and in another life, he would have been just the kind of man I was attracted to. Kind, empathetic, courageous and compassionate. Exactly the opposite of the man I was undeniably still in love with.

  “I’ll leave immediately,” I said and he shook his head.

  “Not yet. Let Captain Jennings work on him first.”

  “Is that wise, sir?”

  “Maybe not, but after a couple of days of him, this Ryan fellow will see you as a blessed relief. Besides, I could do without the headache of his company.”

  “Then what are our orders, sir?”

  “Maintain security here,” he said. “We’ll start shipping the survivors out tomorrow morning and establish this as our forward base proper.”

  He paused and glanced out the window, across the river to the massed undead waiting there.

  “There’s another boat coming in tomorrow. More resources to secure this place and establish it properly. This city has a lot of resources that we need if we’re going to survive the winter and this place will be the nexus for everything that comes through.”

  I gave a nod to indicate I was listening but he didn’t seem to notice, caught up in his own thoughts and plans. He was clearly not yet ready to give up on the shipyards and I was pleased about that. There were some back home who wanted him replaced, fearing the power he had. Power he would never use for anything but the good of the people.

  “These… acolytes?” he said. “You can trust them?”

  “We
ll, they want to return to their base but won’t until they’re sure I’m safe. I think that’s the only reason they’re still here.”

  “Because he ordered them to?”

  “Yeah. I don’t think they’re spies or anything like that. They honestly don’t seem to care about anything we’re doing.”

  “They don’t speak, won’t show their faces and seem to want nothing. They will be a problem.”

  “Sir?”

  “A new religion will spread like wildfire,” he said softly. “There’s already talk of it amongst the people here. Rumours and exaggerations of what they can do.”

  Dammit, Ryan! I knew this would be a problem.

  “There’s not much we can do about that, sir.”

  “No,” he said. “Nothing I would countenance any way.”

  Which meant he had considered options that would negate the chance of those rumours reaching our island. I could only think of one way that could happen and it wasn’t pleasant.

  “They don’t recruit,” I said. “Not like other religions do.”

  Crap! I was actually thinking of it as a religion. That wasn’t good.

  “No knocking on doors with pamphlets?” he said with a wry smile.

  “Ah, no, sir.”

  “That’s one saving grace at least.”

  “The way I understand it…” how could I put it in terms that wouldn’t make it sound insane. “To become one of them is not an easy process.”

  “Oh?”

  He looked genuinely curious and I held back a sigh. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.

  “You have to give up everything. All connection to the living and to society. They consider themselves to be like the dead. Cut off from the living entirely.”

  “I’m not sure I quite understand.”

  “It’s hard to explain,” I said. “They see themselves as different to the rest of us survivors. They have lost everything and everyone they cared about. For many, they would end up as one of the many suicides we’ve had.”

  He nodded soberly at that. It had been a problem for some time, the number of people choosing to take their own lives. I couldn’t understand it. To survive so long, to make it to safety, to then give up and take your own life… it was almost beyond belief.

  “Ryan, he gives them a purpose when they feel they have nothing left. He tells them that if they are going to die, they might as well do it saving others. Making their deaths worthwhile.”

  “Sounds like you admire what he’s doing,” the Admiral said as he looked at me, understanding in his eyes.

  Did I admire what he was doing? I’d been angry, I knew that and the whole religious aspect was messed up, but he was doing it… he was actually out there saving people. How many lived because of him?

  To be fair, it was quite easy to answer that question. All I had to do was look around Lou’s place to know that several hundred of them had been brought in by the acolytes. Heck even his followers, around a hundred people, lived because he’d given them a purpose.

  “I do,” I said. “Maybe not the way he did it, but you can’t deny the results. As religions go, it’s fairly easy going.”

  He chuckled softly and shook his head.

  “There are a number of people back on the island who would disagree. The religious groups there are playing nice for the moment, but throw a new one into the mix and it will be unpleasant.”

  “I don’t think we have to,” I said and he arched a brow in query. “There’s no reason for any of the acolytes to go to the island.”

  “Oh, why is that?”

  “There are no zombies to kill there.” I’d given it some thought since leaving the cult’s base and I was sure that I was right. “They don’t actively recruit but do accept people who want to join. They exist to kill the undead and ensure the safety of the living.”

  “I see,” he said, nodding thoughtfully.

  “More than that,” I said as inspiration came. “They are the perfect shock troops for operations here.”

  “Oh? Explain.”

  “They spend every waking hour fighting,” I told him firmly. “They exist to kill the undead and from what I’ve seen, they’re damned good at it. They don’t run from the enemy and they will fight to the bitter end. They are relentless in their aims.”

  “Perhaps you have something there,” he said. “Not sure I’m quite ready to trust them just yet, but I see your point.”

  “Trust me, sir. If you go out into the city and see what they’ve managed to do, you can’t help but be impressed.”

  “Maybe I will,” he said. “For now, we have work to do. We have some people who are without a squad. I shall try to find you a medic.”

  “I’ll need a couple more people too,” I said.

  “Oh?”

  “I’m sending two back on the boat with the refugees, sir.”

  “Should I ask why?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t, sir.”

  “Very well, see Lieutenant Shaw. Let her know your needs and she will assign you some new people. Oh,” he said as I gave a rather crisp salute. “She will also let you know where you are on the watch schedule.”

  “Sir.”

  “Dismissed, lieutenant.”

  I gave another salute, wincing inside as it didn’t come off quite right but he didn’t seem to notice. A quick about turn and I was marching towards the door and a moment later, it closed behind me as I breathed a sigh of relief.

  All in all, it had gone okay. He was at least open to the suggestion of working with Ryan and his little band of religious nuts. All I had to do then, was figure out a way to make Ryan play nice with the Admiral.

  That would mean going to visit him and I would be lying if I said that idea didn’t excite me and set my heart beating faster in my breast.

  “Are we to return?” my dark-garbed shadow asked.

  She pushed away from the wall, ignoring the stares of those soldiers on guard duty beside the door and came towards me.

  “Not yet,” I said and held up my hands placatingly. “Soon, I promise.”

  Her silence was not comforting. She crossed her arms and I could feel her glare as I turned to go in search of Lieutenant Shaw. I just hoped that I could keep my promise.

  Chapter 24 – Ryan

  We came out of the subway, blinking our eyes at the dim morning sunlight. A heavy wind tugged at the cloth of my hood as the driving rain beat against my leather biker jacket. I bit back a curse as I splashed through a puddle.

  Buildings of glass and stone rose up all around us, the patterned stone of the pedestrian-only area were slick with rain. Weathered metal lampposts rose up beside the thick glass that covered the escalators that descended into the subway.

  A simple gesture was all I needed to make and the two Fists of acolytes split up, half going to one side of the street and the rest, the other side. They moved swiftly, checking that the doors were secured and moving on to the next.

  Samuel grunted and folded his arms as he watched them work.

  “You really think this is necessary? We secured these doors a month ago.”

  “I do,” I said as I scanned the upper floor windows of the nearby buildings.

  Killing people and just leaving them was not normal behaviour for the undead. They killed, they devoured and if enough was left, the corpses returned to life. No, it wasn’t normal behaviour and I could only think it was a trap.

  I began to move slowly along the street, wincing with each step and straining to make my gait as normal as possible. I couldn’t risk showing weakness. Not to the undead and definitely not to my minions.

  Something tickled at the back of my mind, a warning perhaps or a somewhat insistent tugging at a memory, trying to remind me of something. I slowed my pace and scanned the street once more.

  The rain continued to beat down, forming puddles on the hard surface. Steel benches were set at equal distances along the street and between them were the piled bodies of the zombies we’d killed when we first
cleared this area.

  It all seemed fairly mundane and common for the city, but still, that tugging at the back of my mind wouldn’t let up.

  “My Lor… Ryan,” Samuel said, clearly still uncomfortable with using my name. “Is everything okay?”

  “No,” I said as I scanned the street once more, taking the time to look at each of the windows in the buildings.

  Something was off and it annoyed the hell out of me that I couldn’t figure out what it was. There was no clear definable thing that I could point to and say, ‘that’s wrong’ but it was. I had an instinctive urge to turn and walk away as I was sure we were headed towards an ambush.

  “Return!” I snapped as I finally realised what it was.

  “Ryan?”

  “Get ready,” I said as the nearest corpses began to move.

  All around us, they rose. Ferals, one and all, lying still and silent atop the piled dead and waiting for us to pass them by fully. I readied my weapons as I did a quick count and swore softly.

  The low growl that rose behind me set even my hairs to rising as some primal part of my brain shuddered at the sound. The Ferals rushed in.

  My movements were hampered. Left-arm unable to rise and extend fully and my left leg ready to buckle beneath my weight should I move too fast. Nevertheless, I was still the best killer around.

  I laughed aloud as the Ferals claws scored my leather clad arm but did little real damage and I responded to its attack by stabbing my long knife through its eye. It fell without a sound and was replaced by a zombie that hissed softly as it scuttled towards me.

  My closed fist caught it on the side of the head, as my knife rose up beneath its chin and my heart began to increase its beat, excitement rising within me. I grinned behind my hood as I waited for the next to rush at me and then I truly began to enjoy myself.

  Someone screamed in pain, another gave a grunt as they rammed the blade of their weapon through a skull. The copper scent of blood was in the air, enraging those foul creatures trying to kill us and urging us to fight all the harder.

  There was no retreat for the dead. We did not run. We stood our ground and fought and died. I may not have believed in the lies I had woven to get them to believe in me, but I did believe in that. I would not flee from the undead.