Killing the Dead (Books 4-6)

by Murray, Richard

  His nose cracked as it broke under my first punch, the second would no doubt blacken his eye and Pat was there before I could land a third. His strong arms were wrapped around me and pulling me away.

  “What would you have me do?” I yelled, spittle flying as I struggled to maintain the fragile hold on my rage. “She would have died slowly, painfully and probably over hours if not days.” I looked towards Lily, “I couldn’t save her. I could only give her what peace I could.”

  “I understand,” Lily said low and serious as she stepped closer to me, “You should have talked to us first, it wasn’t your choice to make.”

  “She was my responsibility.” I snarled back at her, “My fault she was even here, I’m the reason she died because I wouldn’t break a promise.”

  She flinched then and spoke to Pat, “Take him outside and let him cool down.”

  “Sure.” Pat grunted as he steered me towards the door. I went unresisting.

  He released his hold on me as we pushed through the entrance way and out into the cold night air.

  “Take a breath of air and calm down mate.” Pat said as he tugged on the cloth around his arm.

  “Forgive my outburst.” I managed to say without looking at him, “I apologise if my behaviour caused you pain, considering your wound.”

  “It’s fine. You ok? You sound weird.”

  “I will be fine. I just need to cool down.” I lied, “You go and fix your arm and I’ll take a walk around the grounds for a bit.”

  “You sure?” He asked doubtfully.

  “Yes, go on in and don’t concern yourself. I’ll be fine.”

  I watched as he pushed back through the damaged doors and went inside the building before I set off down the road.

  The island was just to the north of the apartments and while some parts of it were four hundred metres or more from the main land, the narrowest part was maybe a hundred metres or less. It would be a cold and dangerous swim but I was reasonably confident that I could do it.

  That half finished barrier that had been no protection at all from the deserters was passed by after a few minutes brisk walking and I was soon at the junction where the roads met. I crossed the main road into the trees beyond before starting north.

  It seemed likely that the deserters had come ashore close by rather than carrying all our supplies for a significant distance and if they had left anyone behind to watch the road, I certainly didn’t want to be seen.

  Hopefully if anyone had been watching they would think that I was abandoning the others and fleeing into the night.

  As I made my way slowly through the trees and undergrowth in the darkness, trying my best to be stealthy while tripping over every stone or fallen branch that seemed to litter the ground around me. I tried to come up with some kind of plan of action.

  I was compelled to do something to assuage my anger and the only way I could think of to cope with the unfamiliar emotions of guilt and remorse, was to kill.

  It was slow going through the wooded area beside the road and more than once I lamented the fact that I had to flee the urban environment that had been my hunting ground for so long.

  No leaves to slip on there, no broken branches to snag your foot and unbalance you, no brambles with sharp thorns that should really be classed as a health hazard.

  My foot slipped once more on something damp that squelched unpleasantly and I sincerely hoped it was mud.

  The clearing where Cass had first seen the rowboat pulled up onto the muddy shore while we were searching for Leon and Jenny was pretty much as I had last seen it.

  Before me was a wide expanse of open grass that sloped upwards to the hills and the tall trees that bordered them, with a road that crossed through adjacent to the lake. A few small bushes and patches of weeds ran along the waterside and surprisingly a rowboat had been pulled half out of the lake to rest on the muddy shore.

  I stared at the boat for several long minutes. It seemed likely that it were being used by the deserters and the only reason that it would be pulled up on the lake shore in the dark winters evening would be if one or more of the deserters were around.

  Of course the only reason to do so after raiding the apartment building would be to leave someone behind to wait for anyone foolish enough to follow them.

  The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end and I was all too aware of exactly how much noise I had been making as I traversed the uneven ground of the woods.

  I forced myself to breathe deeply and slowly as I pulled my knife out of its sheath and held it ready as I pressed myself back against the rough bark of the beech tree I was sheltering under.

  My heartbeat was racing and unnaturally loud to my ears as I considered that the deserters would have had the benefit of army training and could well be moving silently through the woods towards me.

  A decision needed to be made. I could sit and wait, hope perhaps that I had not been seen or heard and wait for the soldiers to show themselves. That was an option that didn’t hold too much appeal which meant that I would need to move and try to find the soldiers before they found me.

  I eased myself upright, back pressed tightly against the tree trunk. Logic would dictate that the soldiers would stay close to the road so that they could watch for the foolish individual who happened to be angrily racing along the road.

  As I had travelled through the woods I had been forced by the shape of the land, away from the road. I was currently a good forty metres above it and so with a last look around into the darkness that seemed deeper beneath the trees, I set off down the slope.

  All of those sounds that I had been hearing as I moved through the woods, the rustling of branches, the crackle of leaves, the splash of water. I had dismissed them all as the movements of small animals or perhaps being caused by the chill wind that was blowing. Now all those sounds were a great deal more ominous.

  Each step through the undergrowth was torturously slow as I tried to avoid making any noise to alert the deserters that I was sure were out there, waiting, armed and eager to kill me.

  A dark shape was crouched beneath the branches of a gnarled old tree that overlooked the road. I paused and watched, waiting for the right time to strike.

  When the shape moved, just slightly, I was sure that it was one of the deserters and I moved forward as silently as possible, eager for the kill. The anger burning within my breast filled me with the righteous fury of the wronged and I ached to release it on those who had offended me. My arm raised with knife gripped tight, point down ready to plunge into the back of his neck.

  “Hey prick.” A voice from behind me.

  I swung, knife lashing out towards the sound and had a moment only to register the appearance of a short man in military fatigues before the butt of his weapon hit me and everything went dark.

  Chapter 24

  Consciousness returned slowly and with a great deal of pain. I was aware of being moved, strong hands on either side of me were holding me up as my feet dragged along the floor behind me.

  The awkward position of my arms that pulled my hands behind my back and the feel of the rough cord that was wrapped tightly around my wrists told me that I was in trouble.

  Everything around me seemed fuzzy, the laughing conversation of my captors seemed far away and sharp pain went stabbing through my skull whenever I tried to lift my head.

  It was an interesting feeling to be bound and captured by someone, a reversal of the role I had played so many times in the past. I wondered if I would feel the terror my own victims so often displayed.

  The darkness gave way to the painfully bright light of electric bulbs that told me the deserters had power and I was dragged into a building, loud voices raised in argument and hard wood floors were all I could see and hear.

  “What the hell is this?” I recognised that voice, the black man from the raid.

  “He followed us,” one of my captors explained, “Heard him coming through th
e woods and Andy gave him a whack with the butt of his rifle before he stabbed me with this.”

  My knife clattered noisily to the floor as my captor tossed it to the side. It was becoming extremely disconcerting how often I had been losing weapons since the end of the world began.

  “That right pal?” Thick fingers closed around my jaw and my head was lifted up. “Were you planning on killing my mate?”

  I tried my best to grin against the pain that was stabbing through my skull and spat out “Yes.” The black man’s fist caught me on the jaw and I tasted blood.

  “You’re going to regret that pal.” The black man said before launching another blow at my head.

  “Leave off, Sarge will want to talk to him.” My new favourite captor said. “You can have fun with him later.” He was rapidly losing favoured status.

  My captors dragged me across the room and threw me to the floor against a wall. I landed with a thud and received one last kick into my ribs from the deserter called Andy that drove all of the air from my lungs and left me wheezing.

  “Where is Sarge?” Andy asked.

  “Upstairs, where else?” The unnamed deserter said and laughter followed.

  “Him and Ed doing her together again?”

  “Nah, Sarge told him to piss off so he’s stuck with the other.” The black man said and the laughter increased.

  The four soldiers continued with their conversation and I tuned them out as I finally regained my breath and had a chance to actually get my bearings.

  My head was aching and the cut in my mouth was bleeding steadily. I hoped the blow to my jaw hadn’t loosened any teeth, I had no desire to play dentist during an apocalypse. Though to be fair, it wouldn’t matter overly much if I didn’t survive the night.

  Whatever cord they had used to tie my hands was too tight to do anything but tear at the skin of my wrists when I pulled against my bonds. I decided not to try and sit up as that would likely just get me another beating and if I wanted to survive then I would need my wits about me.

  Whoever had owned the house that was the only building on the privately owned island, had furnished it with a lot of expensive furniture and artwork, much of which had been damaged or defiled by the deserters’.

  Someone had drawn horns and a moustache on the face of one person in an oil painting. The other pictures that were hung around the room had been torn or had similar scrawling across them.

  The wooden furniture had been broken up and stacked beside the roaring fireplace while the comfortable sofas and chairs were filthy. Mud and food stained the fabric and the floor was littered with food packaging and empty bottles.

  Along one wall were the bags that contained all of the food and supplies stolen from my group. Someone had opened them and had been pulling out and stacking up the various tins, jars and packets.

  Another pile of items looked to be military issue. The helmets and body armour of the deserters were piled up alongside all manner of items that I couldn’t identify from where I lay. The weapons were never far from their reach.

  Several doors led off into other parts of the building and it wasn’t long before the ‘Sarge’ sauntered through one, a bottle of spirits in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

  “What have we here?” Sarge asked as he spied me.

  “Little prick was going to try and kill Andy when I clocked him.” The unnamed deserter said.

  “That right?” Sarge asked with surprise. “Just him on his own?”

  “Yeah,” Andy said. “If anyone else was with him we’d have heard. He had no idea how to walk silently.”

  “Well now,” Sarge said thoughtfully. “Get him up and take him into the back room so we can have a chat in peace.”

  “Ed still up there?” The black man asked as Andy and the unnamed deserter roughly pulled me to my feet.

  “Yeah, he sounded like he was having fun. The other one’s free if you want.” Sarge replied.

  “Sound.” The black man said before heading to the door that Sarge had entered through.

  “Oh, Levi.” Sarge called after him, “Be more gentle this time.”

  “Will do.”

  “You know he won’t.” Andy said to Sarge.

  “Well no matter, we can always find some new ones.” Sarge said. “Now get him into the back room.”

  I was dragged through one doorway and down a carpeted hallway towards a room that I guessed from its name was at the back of the building.

  The deserters manhandled me through the door and dropped me on the floor before leaving the room and closing the door with a thud behind them.

  Sarge appeared before I even had time to register the bookshelves that lined the room and the computer chair set before the window. The shattered remains of the computer lay in the corner. I imagine the desk had been burnt.

  “So who the fuck are you?” Sarge asked as he seated himself in the chair and took a long drink on his bottle.

  “What is your name?” I asked in response.

  “Now why would that matter to you?” Sarge asked. He looked at me with a puzzled expression.

  “I like to know the names of the people I kill.” I said quietly and Sarge burst into laughter.

  “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.” He said after taking another swig. “You thought you could kill all of us by yourself or were you just looking for someone to end your life.”

  “I can assure you that I was merely defending myself.” I lied, “Your fellows out there tried to stop me leaving the area.”

  “Did they now?”

  “Oh yes. After you attacked I decided that the people I was with were too weak to survive. I thought that perhaps I could join with you and have a chance of living longer.”

  “You want to join us?” Sarge seemed to find that amusing. “These lads and me have served together for years. Why the fuck would we let you join us?”

  “I could be an asset to you.” I insisted quietly.

  “An asset.” Sarge said thoughtfully, he leant back in the chair as he seemed to consider my words. “What skill do you have that we need?”

  “I can kill.”

  “We have enough killers here already.” Sarge said, “You’re just another mouth to feed.”

  “Then let me replace one of your fellows.” I said and he glared at me over the lip of his bottle.

  “Watch yourself now. I’ve already told you, me and the lads have been together a long time and I trust each of them a hell of a lot more than I would you.”

  “Then may I ask why I am still alive?”

  “We saw you come back from across the lake. What’s happening over there?”

  “Much the same as everywhere else, zombies and ruination.” I said and reeled as he struck me once in the side of my head.

  “This is how it will go. I’ll ask you questions and you’ll answer them. You get smart and I will make you pay for it. Understand?”

  “Yes.” I said before I spat out the blood from the freshly opened cut in my cheek.

  “Good.” Sarge said before sitting back and taking another swig from his bottle. I briefly hoped he would pass out from the drink but doubted it. “How many undead are on the outskirts.”

  “The majority seemed to be in the south though we saw easily a hundred just in the area where we landed.” I told him.

  “Are any buildings accessible?”

  “A few, residential houses.”

  “No businesses?” Sarge asked sharply.

  “We found one boat yard that we scavenged some timber from.” I said, “We couldn’t get much further than that without any real weapons.”

  “All that wood you had in the boat?” Sarge asked and waited for a response so I nodded. “That boat won’t be much use for long, almost out of diesel Ed said.”

  I shrugged, I had no idea how much fuel the boat used or how much it had left. While he was tapping the bottle neck thoughtfully against his lips I tugged
at the bonds that held me but couldn’t get any slack.

  “Will the rest of your people fight us?” Sarge asked suddenly.

  “They have nothing to fight you with while you have guns.” I said honestly.

  “No one else but you then.” He said. “That makes you incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.”

  “At least I’m not a child killer.” I snapped back and he roared in anger and crashed the bottle against the side of my head sending me reeling amidst the sharp shards of glass.

  “Hold your fucking tongue.” He snarled. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes bulged manically and I thought through the haze of pain, that I had hit a sore nerve.

  “You ok Sarge?” Andy asked as he opened the door.

  “I’m fine. Leave me be.”

  “Dec’s back. That boat’s coming across the lake towards us.” Andy said and Sarge stood abruptly and planted a kick into my stomach.

  “I thought you said they wouldn’t fight you lying fuck.” He screamed as I gasped. “Keep him here while I gather everyone up and sort out that boat. Then I’ll be back to finish up.” He added to Andy in a more reasonable tone.

  Sarge left the room and Andy leant against the wall as I lay on the floor gasping for my breath once again. A thick flow of blood was steadily leaking from the gash in the side of my head and pooling against the floor, making the carpet sticky and damp.

  “You might want to get something to stop this bleeding.” I said to Andy who was looking at me with disdain.

  “Yeah well you might want to shut the hell up before I give you a kicking.” Andy replied.

  “What’s one more kicking before your boss returns and kills me?” I said with more humour than I felt.

  “He ain’t going to kill you.” Andy said and I glanced at him to see an evil smirk on his face. “You’ll join the others upstairs for a while. Sarge won’t kill you till we are all finished with you.”

  “Sounds like fun.” I said and he laughed as I felt around the floor beneath me for a shard of glass big enough to cut through my bonds, gaining a great many small cuts on my hands as I did so.

  “Not for you it won’t be. Bugger all else to do around here though.”