Not Dead Yet: A Zombie Apocalypse Series - Books 1 - 2

by K. Bartholomew

The colonel said, “haw…haw…haw.” O’Leary dribbled some yellow substance over his lap. Most of the others just gaped at the fool and stepped back, giving him a respectable amount of room. As for myself, well, I was just glad to be getting rid of him, probably forever.

  Murphy held out his hand which the captain took. “Captain, you make yourself and the regiment extremely proud to…”

  “…But I insist on choosing my own junior officer.” He cut in. “For a mission like this, I need to know everything’ll run without a hitch.”

  “Um, yes of course, I don’t see a problem with that.” The major turned to the colonel, who was already standing.

  “Captain Lynch, as you know, commanding a detachment from the regiment requires no less than a full major, marching out under the colour. Since you’re the only volunteer, it is my pleasure to promote you. Congratulations Major Lynch.” The colonel patted him on the back whilst the now Major Lynch grinned, his one eye flicking toward me.

  Naturally, I’d already seen where this might possibly lead, and having a coward’s instinct, I’d already backed away toward the exit and Dolan who blocked it, which showed how desperate I was.

  Major Murphy shrugged. “And who, may I ask, Major, will be your junior?”

  Lynch removed his eye patch, glared my way and grinned his crooked teeth. “For a job like this, I’ll require nothing less than the bravest man in the regiment…Captain Strapper, of course.”

  And as my bowels dissolved within me, all I could do was smile and nod.

  Garrison

  What choice did I have?

  Again, I thought of running, but there still existed the same problem as before. Me on foot against a regiment, albeit reduced and understrength. Alone in wide open countryside, I wouldn’t stand a chance. And that was discounting the dead who lurked behind nearly every tree.

  But when Lynch named me, every head turned my way and gave me the kind of look I was becoming accustomed to. It was admiration, hope, respect and, dare I say it, even love. Not that I gave a damn about any of those things and they certainly didn’t rank higher than my personal safety, but in that moment, as they watched me and waited for my acceptance, I just couldn’t say no - I was their hero, after all.

  Besides, they weren’t to know that my accepting the generous offer of volunteering to commit suicide, wouldn’t, with a little bit of luck, present numerous escape opportunities during the trip further south.

  And by then I’d already be saddled on my trusty steed, who’d earlier proven herself a horse with a mind like my own and I’d fare much better in open country against a reduced detachment rather than a full regiment.

  By the time of the pointless ceremony, handing over one of the colours to our small group, I’d hoped to be full of confidence for what was to come. But for obvious reasons I wasn’t.

  For one, Lynch, who should’ve been watching the Union Jack colour placed in a strong box while everybody danced a march around it, singing the anthem and saluting, wasn’t. Not once did he remove his one peeper from my person and after twenty five minutes of singing and pretending to be moved by the occasion, it became more than a little awkward.

  Sure, I’d romped with his wife, but wasn’t this taking things a bit far?

  The ceremony was completed, the box containing the regiment’s honour strapped to a horse under the care of one of the two colour sergeants who’d be accompanying us. They were by far the biggest, roughest and most heavily armed men in the regiment. Further to the regulation sabres and carbines of the troopers, they also carried pistols as though they were officers. And they each had an array of short blades strapped to their belts - Overkill to protect a piece of cloth, yes. But at least they were men of honour, not that I usually gave three flying figs for any of that rot, but it meant they could be relied upon not to be bent towards doing anything wrong by me, should Lynch be so inclined to make the order - Or so I hoped. As it transpired, Colour Sergeants Rourke and Quinn were both veterans of the Charge - Why was I not surprised?

  We assembled into a column on the town outskirts with the entire regiment present and a gaggle of locals who sang some Paddy song to see us out.

  With Pumphrey glued to his side, the colonel personally strode by, shook each of our hands in turn and made us promise to protect the colour. Nothing about the mission, clearing the fort, reestablishing supply lines and bringing back food, mind…no, there was none of that. Only that we should all swear to protect the Queen’s colour with our very lives, should the need arise, and whatever we do, we must bring it home safely, even if we were all butchered to the man. I wondered how that would even work, but it was lost on everyone else.

  Then Lynch, myself, the two colour sergeants and another six troopers trotted out to begin the two day journey to Fort Garrison.

  A FEW MILES trotting down the rocky road was all it took to know that escaping wouldn’t be an option.

  For one, the terrain was unforgiving, rugged and unmanageable and I doubted my horse’s ability to maintain a lead under such conditions. Beyond the hills in the distance, trees covered large swathes of land, the only covered area where I could hope to hide, yet it wasn’t worth chancing on the likely outcome I’d run into the dead.

  But more than that, and it may have been my coward’s paranoia, but there were always at least two troopers who stuck to my flanks like the colour sergeants stuck to the strong box. Several times I changed speeds, hung back or advanced forward up the column and always, as subtly as they could, they remained nearby.

  Curious, I struck up a conversation when we stopped to water the horses. “Long trip, lads, baron land.”

  They both shuffled back a step then the one with red face and chubby cheeks spoke. “Aye, tis dat, alroyt.” They both looked sheepishly away and I thought no more of it, other than perhaps my new found reverence within the regiment was having a funny effect on the men.

  We rejoined the track and passed through the occasional village, ruined like what I’d come to expect. They were always stripped of cattle, as were the hills, and often of all people too, either dead or moved on to more promising pastures in these difficult times. There were always woods in view although the road never passed through any. But darkness would soon fall and I feared a night with psychopaths on one side and the dead on the other.

  Naturally, throughout the first day, I remained aware of Lynch, who for the most part remained at the head of the column, speaking to nobody lest he issue an order. It became so that I could close my eyes and still see the back of his head, bobbing up and down as he trotted toward our eventual destination.

  I wondered what the men thought of him. Not that it mattered. They’d obey his orders no matter what they were. But one thing I could be sure about was he had his reasons for bringing me along on this foolish jaunt, when he could have chosen Sheehan or nearly anybody else.

  But what were his reasons? He despised me, obviously. So why would he want me loitering around on some intimate adventure south? It was especially puzzling given he was the only man who correctly knew me as the coward I was - And if there was one thing this mission didn’t require, it was cowards.

  We made camp at twilight atop a mound of steep rocks. They were hardly comfortable, but would provide an adequate enough obstacle should any dead be inclined to attempt the ascent. The sentries were rotated between the six troopers, two on at a time and the colour sergeant named Quinn snared a quartet of rabbit for dinner. It meant having to sit round a campfire with Lynch whilst I worried the smoke would attract the dead.

  It was one thing that never seemed to bother the others - Attracting the dead. They wanted it. They wanted the action, to fight and if need be, die.

  I reflected how only a few short weeks ago, I was busy rogering the whores of Windsor and beyond with my former friend Clayton. Somehow I’d accidentally found myself in the middle of an apocalypse and having to rely on my wits and a, so far, remarkable run of good luck.

  But the thing with luck is that at som
e point the house always wins.

  I picked at the rabbit leg with my teeth whilst studying Lynch from the corner of my eye, trying to figure out something, anything as to his plans. There had to be a reason for my being here, there had to be, and eventually it all became too much I just had to break the day long silence between us.

  “Looks like it’ll be a fine evening at least, Major.” It was rather pathetic, but at least something.

  He didn’t move his head, but carried on gnawing away at the meat around a rib. “Just eat your meal, Captain, you’ll need your strength.” He said flatly.

  Well, I couldn’t take anything from it either way. Sure, I needed my strength considering I was supposedly a day away from attacking a fort with a bunch of madmen.

  So, without thinking any more of it, I entered the tent assigned to myself that one of the troopers had assembled earlier, stripped off my dark blue cavalry tunic and lay down on the hard rocks.

  I fell asleep at some point but was later roused when something cold pressed against my throat.

  “Sshhhhhhhhh.” Lynch held a finger to his lips as someone hovering inside the flap held a lantern, illuminating the tent. “Don’t feckin' move or I’ll slit your gizzard.”

  It’s no way to wake, I’m sure most people would agree, especially considering he’d removed his eye patch and it was like glaring at the grim reaper himself.

  My mind was still adjusting. Was Lynch really in my tent? And why had my coward’s intuition deserted me? “What? What is this?”

  He pulsed with the blade, just to let me know he was serious. “I think you know what this is about Strappy.”

  My hand moved toward my pistol, which I’d kept loaded, but it wasn’t there.

  “Do you really think I’m that stupid?” He tutted, “I’m disappointed in you. Now…here’s what’s about to happen. You’re going to rise, nice and slowly, step outside and I’m going to shoot you, in front of the men, like the dog you are.”

  “No, no, no, no, no, please, Lynch…Captain…no, um Major…look it…”

  The knife pressed harder against my wind pipe, I stopped blabbering on cue and commenced shuffling toward the flap.

  Other than my breeches I was naked and felt the open chill at once. Then I saw the men who were all gathered outside with three or four lanterns between them.

  That’s when it clicked and I recalled what Lynch had said inside the tent seconds earlier. I whipped around on him, where he stood, pistol in hand. “No, no, no, please sir, you can’t, you can’t shoot me.”

  He smiled and I thought he might have been joking, it was murder after all, but it wasn’t that kind of a smile. And he was that kind of a man - They all were.

  I looked about, silently appealing for help but there was none. Even the colour sergeants stood with arms folded, stroking their moustaches like they were interested in seeing what the brave Strappy would do. Well - There was only one thing for it…

  …I dropped to my knees and begged.

  “Please, please, please, you don’t understand, I have money, lots of it, I’ll give you whatever you need, just please, let me go.” Oh how I wailed and cried and slammed my fists into the rocks. “The colonel…I promise he’ll never know about any of this. You could let me go right here…I’ll take my chances alone…I just want to get back to England and you’ll never hear from me again. Please, will somebody see sense?”

  To be fair to them, they didn’t all laugh. In fact probably only about half did, Lynch included. The rest looked at me with a mixture of disappointment, pity and that little something else that comes from discovering the man you looked up to was a fraud all along.

  Suddenly I fell backwards, courtesy of Lynch’s boot. “You hear that, boys? May I present to you, the bravest man in the regiment.”

  That started another round of laughs at my expense as I pushed back up to my knees and manoeuvred myself forward, my knees punching into the stone, and threw myself around the leg of the one colour sergeant who to me looked a little less menacing and more sympathetic than the other. “I beg you, don’t do this, don’t listen to him, he’s mad. He hated me from the very start. All I wanted was to run the family business…why, we even recruit Micks, just like you. I can find you work, if you ever find yourself in a bind…the same goes for all of you.” I knew I was struggling for material now and then I heard the click behind my head and the colour sergeant stepped away.

  “Now listen here, you little worm…” Lynch growled from behind as he pushed the pistol barrel against my cranium, “…you may have fooled the entire regiment but you never had me, and before I send you to hell, I want you to know that.”

  “Oh God, please.” I whimpered and received a smack from the pistol butt.

  Two troopers brought me back to my knees and then Lynch moved around to my front and loomed down at me like the devil. “Have you quite finished? Now…I’d like you to entertain me and everyone else present about how you fixed the duel.” He holstered the pistol but again brandished the short, terrifying short blade in front of my nose. “And if you lie, I’ll start with your ears.”

  I sobbed and shivered in the cold. “It was Dolan…yes, that’s right, it was all Dolan’s idea. He made me do it. You saw him prime the pistols…he did it…he loaded only the one gun then handed it to me, giving you the one with powder only.” I heaved deep breaths and feared I’d begin to palpitate and they’d lose patience and murder me where I knelt, in the wilderness for my corpse to be consumed by the dead or else turn into one of them only to again die at the hands of these monsters. “Worse…he then tried to extort money out of me for fixing the thing. ‘Strappy,’ says he, ‘if you don’t relinquish twenty thousand pounds, I’ll see the ruin of you.’ He’s relentless, you see, it’s all him.”

  Some of the troopers murmured to each other and then one of them shouted, “but I saw you shoot a pigeon without even looking. They say you’re the best shot in the regiment.” Lynch squirmed at that.

  I had to think quick. “That…that was luck, pure luck I tell you. I didn’t even see the bloody bird, confound it.” I whipped back on Lynch. “And sir, I’d never have shot you, honestly…I always quite liked you and was so upset when we got off on the wrong foot.”

  He crouched down and raised his voice. “You hear that? They fixed the duel.” He stood and strutted between the men. “That’s a dishonourable discharge from the army if ever I did hear one.”

  My heart leapt - It was all I ever wanted.

  The colour sergeant Rourke scratched his head. “But…but…Lieutenant Sheehan says you slaughtered over a hundred dead in the woods, all by yourself…”

  My hopes were quickly dashed when Lynch returned and flicked the knife before my eyes. “That’s true…and Sheehan’s no liar and no idiot, so what happened?”

  “Please, please, if I tell you, do you promise not to hurt me?”

  I received the back of the maniac’s hand across my cheek and cried out in pain. “Talk, you gutless fraud or I’ll feed your bowels to the dead.”

  I tried to claw myself toward his feet just so I could beg and show how much I meant it, but he merely stepped back. Oh, I was aware how much of a sissy I looked, especially in the company of these men, but I didn’t care, I just wanted to feel safe and warm and fuzzy again.

  “A hundred? It was more like ten, twelve at the most and it was the two dead troopers,” I couldn’t remember their names, “who killed them whilst I cried behind a tree. Sheehan arrived when I tried to pull a weapon free, to protect myself. It’s not my fault his dicked mind embellished everything. He’s mad, I tell you, you all are.”

  Two of the troopers vomited over the ground, that’s how appalling my story was. That I’d sat back and quivered whilst their beloved comrades fought and died, myself stealing the glory. And they needed considerable restraint to save from rushing me, their rising anger was that palpable. So much so, in fact, that Lynch himself had to step in to prevent one fiend from drawing his blade on me.

/>   “Easy, McDonald, you’ll get your chance.” What was that supposed to mean?

  The colour sergeant again scratched his head. “But…but…you travelled to Ireland, alone, to help us, when you didn’t have to. That was a brave thing wasn’t it?”

  Again Lynch turned on me, the brow above his gaping hole rising. “Well?”

  “Listen to me…I never wanted to be here. It was all a mistake…my uncle…I think he hates me and lied to get me here. He works at the Horse Guards, you see…oh, just say the word Lynch…Captain…no, to the blazes with it…Major…just say the word and it’ll be Colonel Lynch for you my lad.

  He stepped away and addressed his men. “There you have it…now you have the truth. The gallant Captain Jack Strapper is nothing but a fraud, a cad, a liar. He lacks honour and will say or do anything to save his wretched life. Well…we’ll soon put the captain out of his misery.”

  I leapt to my feet and was immediately greeted by the levelling of anywhere between five and ten carbines and pistols. “Oh Christ, please. Sure, I did wrong and acted without honour, but I don’t deserve this…I don’t deserve to die like a dog in this miserable place.”

  Lynch bounded toward me and growled, “you had relations with my wife.” Oh that - It was almost an afterthought. Then he barked an order to two of his men. “Seize him.”

  They rushed forward and grabbed me and before I could even guess what was happening or what was about to, I was being hauled down the rocks and back onto the moorland. For several minutes they lugged me through the bogs and overgrowth whilst I screamed and begged and pleaded for mercy. Then I saw the post that was planted into the ground, illuminated by the lanterns and then I was being tied to it, my hands bound so tight behind my back it hurt.

  My soiled breeches were stripped away and they all looked, pointed and laughed - Well, it was a cold night, I tell you, and I was being tormented by no fewer than nine ruffians.

  “There’s nothing there to cut off.” Taunted Lynch, the bastard.