by Al K. Line
The river was more like a small stream at today's overnight stop. They had parked near to a covered barbecue spot, grilling leeks and assorted vegetables they had found growing in a garden along the side of one of the narrow lanes they had driven down. It was a less than hearty meal; whenever they ate without meat Al was impossible to fill-up, but it was not always easy to get meat any longer.
Hence the plan to scoot off to a large country estate that there had been signposts for for miles and miles now. It was an English Heritage building that was a rare-breed farm, as well as one of the few places in England that had large herds of wild deer. It could be the perfect place to stay for a while and fill up on venison to get some muscle building protein inside of them. It was now just the other side of the small river and would be perfect for them. So they parked up at a beauty spot, intending to make their way on foot in the morning to see if they could snag some food.
Only problem?
No guns and no archery equipment. So it was down to plan B, if she thought of a plan B that is.
"Wow, it's pitch black out here," said Kyle as he and Al emerged from the bus with the little bag.
"Yeah, I was just coming in, can't see bugger all," said Ven gathering up her things and walking over. "What you doing?"
"We were going to be setting free the little fishy," said Al, "But we should be doing it tomorrow I am thinking. Kyle, you would be agreeing with me that Mr. Fishy can be free in the morning before we go and eat the deer?" asked Al.
"Sounds good dude, don't wanna fall in the stream and have to live with Mr. Fishy do we?"
"No, that would be very wet," replied Al solemnly.
These two are like a comedy double act at times, thought Ven. Glad to have her friends with her, relaxing after her wash and looking forward to the warmth of the bus.
They retired to the bus, full-bellied but unsatisfied, as they often were with their scavenged meals. The winter was beginning, autumn seemed to be short and changing fast, and none of them had really thought about the consequences of this for their traveling life and their ability to feed themselves, especially with Al consuming so much.
Ven sat alone with Tomas that evening, happily cuddling him, thinking about what the future may hold. He was growing up fast, beginning to eat solid food now, which posed its own set of problems. He seemed to be growing at an incredible rate. From her limited experience babies were not meant to be quite so fast growing, and it was getting hard to carry him now — her back ached on a daily basis. Yet she was loathe to let Al or Kyle take over such duties, she wanted to keep the closeness but knew things would have to change very soon.
###
Early morning saw the men freeing Mr. Fishy into the stream, seemingly unaware it would be dead in a few seconds — goldfish were not meant to live in cold British streams.
Al and Kyle made their way down the slippery muddy bank to the dark waters of the stream, running fast after a night of heavy rain. Twigs and leaves swirled about in the eddies, parts of the bank on the opposite side had slipped, making small dams before they were washed away downstream. The morning was cold, their conversations lingering in the air, clouds of condensed air slowly spreading from their mouths. The grass was soaking, covered in leaves, and the going was slow; they had to be careful not to slip.
Bos Bos bounced about happily, enjoying the coolness, rolling about in the frosty grass, getting a satisfying amount of scratching done, refreshing his coat and making him frisky. He bounded through the muddy puddles, turning brown rather than black in the process.
"That dog will have to have a dunk in the stream before we go back in, he'll make a right mess on the bus otherwise," said Kyle, talking to the soon to be released goldfish.
At the bottom of the steep bank they crouched down on a small pebble beach just a few feet wide, glad to be on firmer ground. Kyle opened up the bag and with quick goodbyes said by all, and a desperate lunge for breakfast from Bos Bos that luckily was unsuccessful, the fish was given its freedom.
As it floated on its back downstream after the shock of the cold water put an end to its until now incarcerated life, it was grabbed from the water by a hand that was clean up to the wrist, then a dirty muddy mess. Alfred popped it into his mouth quickly, swallowing and pulling a face at the dismal meal, longing for something altogether more human to break his fast. He had slept out in the open air, covering himself in leaves and the blankets he now carried with him everywhere. It was cold, even for his dulled senses. But he thought little of it, merely accepted it and slept the sleep of the dead.
It had been after midnight before he had picked up the scent of those he had encountered at the fair. He knew they were just the other side of the rising hills across from the stream. He would deal with them when he awoke in the morning. He also sensed the people he had first met many months ago, and if time allowed then he would certainly deal with them too. That baby? Well, that was no longer an option for a meal, there was definitely something about it that meant it was off limits, it would have to simply be kept safe until he knew what exactly it was. Or should he just leave the entire group alone, and let them do the hard work? That was a better option he finally decided. So he kept his distance, stayed out of their way, merely kept track of them in the morning to avoid any unfortunate incidents. The damn dog was his main concern, but he stayed downwind and it didn't exactly look like the brightest of doggies anyway.
Alfred stripped off, his scrawny body glaring white and skeletal against the dark waters. He swished the kilt and other items around in the water, dark pools coming from the kilt merging with the muddy water, then he threw them back onto a rock before wading in up to his knees. He bent, splashing water over himself, cleaning between his legs, up his backside, ridding himself of any foulness, although he had much better control now. Most of his food nowadays seemed to digest well — evacuations were minimal. Most was used to fuel his scrawny body that never seemed to feel satisfied with its meals, however large and nourishing they happened to be.
Ablutions complete he made his way back into the heavy cover of the woods, hanging the clothes from a branch and grabbing new and dry items from his bags. He shivered in the freezing air, goosebumps raised on his body. But he ignored the slight tickle of cold and wrapped up in layers, less to stave off the cold than simply because he knew that if he could feel properly then his body would want the layers. No point burning more calories than he needed, it may be late in the day before he could feed again, depending on just how tough it was to deal with the situation that had drawn him here across so many miles. He kept the kilt though, it was his look now, and he wasn't about to let such a stupid thing as shame ever dictate to him again. Those days were gone — buried.
He bent, inspected his feet. They were hard as wood, with nails as tough as iron, large callouses making the soles almost impenetrable to piercing. He covered them anyway, thick socks followed by black Doc Marten boots.
May as well go do battle in style, he thought, swinging a bag over his shoulder and getting ready to head off to teach the fucking cause of the fucking hole in the hivemind a lesson they would not soon forget.
Alfred stood stock still, opening up his mind, awareness expanding out, reaching for the black fractal crystal that signified the hivemind. It was pulsing as it always did. He delved in deeper, losing himself in the chaos and the madness, feeling the power of the primal urges building within, sucking them into himself, feeding off the energy, letting it devour him, but making his presence known, stirring those that were losing their connection, bringing them back in and letting them share in the cold harshness that was their only sense of community. He embraced the black, let his power bleed back into it, asserting his superiority as the Alpha. Sending out feelers for where he needed to go, he found the empty spot, eyes closed he turned his head in the direction where the nothingness had begun to spread. He opened his piercing blue eyes, fixed to the distance over Ruthe Hill, where there was going to be payback for what they were doing t
o his tribe.
Time to get jiggy.
How Much for the Zombie Mate?
"You two go, I'll stay here with Tomas," said Ven. "It's only to scout it out right, not to actually do any hunting yet."
"Well, if we can snag one then we will, but no it's just to get a look over the hill to see what's what really. Check that we are in the right place, make sure there's nothing weird going on. No fairs or anything like that," said Kyle, winking at Ven, sticking on the red nose and pulling a spooky face while Al had his back turned.
Ven stifled a laugh, then admonished Kyle with a finger. He put it back in his pocket, but couldn't help smirking.
"You will be locking the door to Basil then Ven. And not walking around in the woods on your own, it is not a good thing, there could be the zombies and maybe worse," said Al, looking around warily. Clown residue still on his mind, he kept thinking they would peek out from behind a tree and smile their sick smiles at him.
"Yep, I will stay inside. It's bloody freezing out here anyway," said Ven, wrapping her arms around herself, stamping her feet in the cool morning air.
"Good," said Kyle. "You gonna keep Bos Bos here with you? He can keep watch."
"Nah, let him go with you guys. He won't be happy staying here and missing out on all the action, will you Bos Bos?" said Ven, patting him on the head and wiggling his ears.
"Woof?" said Bos Bos, wondering why he was being made to go out in the cold when he could stay on the bus and catch up on some sleep. Didn't they all know it was important for him to have a nap in the mornings.
"Okay, c'mon then boy," said Kyle, a reluctant Bos Bos sidling over, staring at him like he'd just eaten a sandwich and not shared.
"Be seeing you later alligators," said Al, hefting a bag onto his back, full of various remnants of packs of biscuits and the like that he had found in various stashes on the bus.
"In a while crocodiles," said Ven, waving and heading back into the warm interior with Tomas clasped tight to her hip.
"Bye bye Tomas, be good for your mummy. Daddy will bring home some lovely food later on, but for now we are just going for a little look, so see you soon. Bye, bye." Kyle waved at Tomas who mostly stared at him blankly as his mum carried him back onto the bus. He was asleep before they even got inside, the warmth seeping out the second the door was opened, familiar smells settling him into a sense of security the instant the aromas hit his nostrils.
Al and Kyle were traveling light, they didn't expect to need much of anything as it was only a quick scouting mission. Al had food for a few hours, lots of clothes wrapped tight, and Kyle had his mace, a few odds and ends in a bag and that was about it. Both had on their re-enforced clothing, they wore it almost exclusively now, as did Ven. There was no point tempting fate when you could wear something comfortable that would also guard against bites from the infected that would end your life in a heartbeat if they got close enough to you. It gave a great sense of security wearing such clothes, although both were well aware that it stopped you being quite as mobile. Even though it was ultra thin it was still stiffer than normal clothing. But the payoff was survival, a price they were more than happy to pay.
They made their way back down to the small stream, still getting faster and rising higher as the runoff from the hills began to arrive. They slid down the bank, now fairly treacherous from their comings and goings. Al hefted a few huge rocks into the water at a naturally shallow point, Kyle picking more appropriately sized ones, until they had enough stepping stones to make it across without getting wet.
On the other side was a thicket containing tall trees, mostly bare, their leaves a thick mulch beneath their feet. Through the branches they could make out a long steep climb of pastureland, which leveled out and contained one of the most visited English Heritage houses in the United Kingdom, back when people went on such outings on a regular basis. They weren't there to gawk at antique interiors though, they were there to see if they could hole up nearby and have a steady supply of meat through the winter months.
Out of the woods they climbed over a short stock-proof fence topped with barbed wire, and began to make their way up the steep grassy slope.
"Woof. Woof, woof. Woof."
"Quiet Bos Bos," said Kyle, staring back to reprimand the dog barking behind him. "Damn, where is he?"
"He is being trapped on the other side of the tiny fence, he is still a bit of a fat doggie."
Kyle trudged back and gave Bos Bos a pitying look. The Lab was wagging his tail, waiting for the fence to magically open so he could get through. Never mind that he could bring down a rabid zombie now, when there was no killer instinct ramping up his senses he reverted back to being a dog that was not in the habit of jumping over things when someone could carry him over instead.
"There is no way I am picking you up to lift you over Boscoe, you are not a fatty anymore dude, get over yourself. C'mon, c'mon boy," cajoled Kyle, slapping his thighs in an effort to get Bos Bos to jump over. Bos Bos just wagged his tale, excited about the new game.
Kyle lifted him over the fence.
Damn dog.
Obstacle overcome they made their way up the hill, keeping an eye out for deer, very aware that they were totally out in the open. At the top of the field was another section of forest, a larger one this time. Past that were hundreds of acres of open grounds that contained the huge building, more like a castle than an ancestral home. The huge expanses of flat land, at one time housing not only deer but a variety of other animals that kept the grass levels low and the views open, also contained numerous gardens, walks and more recent additions to make the place more attractive to visitors.
As they got themselves through the forest, branches slapping at their faces, and huge drops soaking their heads as they fell from the trees they disturbed as they passed, they began to slow. There was, from what they could see, something going on outside the large house. There were people milling about, and as the wind changed direction there was no doubt that what they were doing involved zombies. It reeked like only the undead could.
"This is not another funfair is what I am sure of," said Al. "It is smelling bad of the zombie people, and it is not looking like it is fun for us to go out there. Why would all the zombies be being here at this field Kyle, it is not making the sense."
"I dunno, but no, this isn't another fair that's for sure. Not unless it is some kind of freaky zombie fair anyway." He wasn't too far off the mark actually.
The woods gave them good cover, but the trees thinned out as they reached the edge of the forest, so they kept low. They hunkered down in the long wet grass, getting instantly soaked to the skin. They had a very good view of the activity ahead, although from their distance it was hard to see exactly what was going on. They would have to get closer.
What they could make out were a lot of men, a lot of zombies by the looks of it, and a large assortment of vehicles. But it was mostly blurry, impossible to make sense of. They either needed binoculars, which they didn't have, or to get a much closer look.
"Well, one thing is for sure, it looks like deer is off the menu for the moment anyway. Man, I would have loved some nice juicy steaks. C'mon Al, let's see if we can get closer."
"Okay Kyle, but I am thinking we may be having the steaks too if the men and the zombies go away. Look." Al pointed over to his left. In the distance they observed a large herd of deer, standing around in a loose group grazing down on the lush grass. It was a beautiful sight, making Kyle almost, but not quite, forget the situation they were now in.
"Beautiful," said Kyle admiringly. "Let's hope that these lot bugger off then so we can do some serious hunting."
Al's expansive midsection rumbled in agreement, then Bos Bos joined in with a whimper, just so they knew he too would like something nice to eat if the chance arose. They made their way through the woods, staying just far enough back in to be out of sight should anyone look their way. As they followed the line of the trees they curved around in a gentle arc, gradually getting
closer to the large groupings of people and vehicles, until they were approaching the main drive into the grounds. From their new vantage point the view was a lot better, or worse, depending on whether or not you wanted to deal with what confronted you.
They hunkered down, Bos Bos staying right by their side, knowing that this was a covert operation and that he had to stay inconspicuous.
"What are the men with the prods being doing Kyle? They are not looking like they will be our friends I am thinking," whispered Al.
"I think they are selling zombies, or bartering them at least. Look." Kyle pointed at a group of very well armed men that were standing around a long line of the infected, poking them, teasing them to see their reactions. The infected were all shackled in one way or another. Most of them had chains padlocked around their waists, then they were strung together like a line of prisoners, which is exactly what they were. It was a chain gang right out of the movies.
"It looks like they are seeing how the infected react, like they are picking the best ones or something. Who the hell knows what for though. Why would you want a bloody angry zombie?" As he spoke one of the men swiped a long curved blade across the neck of a zombie that didn't move when prodded roughly, the head came clean off and it dropped to the ground. He carried on walking along the line, prodding, cajoling, as howls of despair at food so close yet unavailable rang out from the long line. Those that failed to react with much in the way of ferocity were systematically put down, then unchained from the main line as two other men grabbed them and dragged them into a heap away from the rest.
From one of the large heavily modded vehicles a substantially bearded man dragged a terrified young woman. She was kicking and screaming, trying to claw at her guard. He pulled her by the arm, bodily dragging her along the muddy ground — as if she were nothing more than a sack of potatoes — trampled by hundreds of tattered feet, until he reached the small group of men stood in front of the disordered line of infected of all shapes, sizes and age.
