The Grave: A Zombie Novel

by Russ Watts

  For so long now, many of them had lost their clothing to the elements and time. The seams had split and the cotton had torn, and many of the dead were half-naked. They did not care, as they did not know they were naked. Breasts hung low and limp, and putrid flesh sloped off the older ones. The dead children ignored the bare flesh on display. Male and female, black and white, they were all oblivious to their nudity. Their skin was discoloured and damaged; there was no longing, embarrassment or self-awareness. The walking corpses simply carried on every day, roaming wherever they wished across the land. If they caught an arm or a leg on a spiky bush, they would simply tear the limb off and continue. If they fell and broke an ankle or a bone, they felt no pain or suffering. If they could walk, they walked. If they could no longer walk, they would drag themselves along on their hands. If they could no longer drag themselves anywhere, they would wait for food to come to them. They could not die and so would lie still for weeks, months, years, until an inquisitive animal would foolishly get too close and then snap! Rotten black teeth would seize upon the hapless creature and drink down the blood from the animal’s still pumping heart. It didn’t matter if the meat was stringy or fatty, it was all the Deathless wanted. It was a curse they would never be rid of. And any creature in their path would be eaten. Those not killed instantly, any creature that might escape with just a wound from the dead would not last long. A bite or a scratch meant irreversible infection and an eternity of oblivious death. Once bitten, an animal would turn within a few seconds. The heart would implode causing agony and then it would be all over. They would return as one of the dead.

  The Deathless followed the trail of smoke and destruction through the forest toward the crash site. They were like moths flocking to a flame and nothing would stop them. A burnt path led them through charred ground and past trees with broken limbs to the edge of the city. The plane had skimmed the tops of the trees and ended up in the town of Judgeford. Grass gradually gave way to gravel and toppled trees conceded ground to crumbling houses as the dead marched on in their search for the fresh meat that fell from the sky.

  The domes that had hastily been erected over some of the smaller towns had long since cracked and fallen. There was nothing to stop the plane’s catastrophic descent and so it had smashed through the town before finally coming to rest.

  The Deathless now controlled this land. Millions of them had been shipped there from all over the globe, a shunned race that were both feared and despised equally. Some of these people, these dead beings, were now on their way to Judgeford. They did not know the town’s name or need to. All they knew was that was where they needed to get to, because that was where food was.

  * * *

  Will staggered from the plane and sank to the ground. Blood poured from a cut on his cheek and he held his hand to it trying to stem the bleeding. He felt dizzy and spaced out, as if he had been inside a centrifuge on full speed before being abruptly spat out. He looked up and saw a row of houses, small low buildings and fences. The plane had come to rest in a residential street. Evidently, the pilot had attempted to land between the houses and had at least partly succeeded.

  Looking back at where they had come from, he saw a trail of destruction. Several cars and vans were flipped over and deep cracks in the road had been gouged out where the plane had landed. A couple of cars were burning. Will felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Tricia looming over him. Tears streaked her face.

  “Can you help me? We can’t get Wilfred out.”

  Tricia went back toward the plane and Will stood to follow her. The plane had been split in two, its fragile body breaking up on impact with the ground. The wings had sheared off and the sides of the plane had been peeled back, exposing the destroyed interior and ragged seats. Debris littered the area around the hull of the plane. In places, Will could see all the way through it to the buildings on the other side of the road. He looked at the empty row of seats inside and then saw the body lying on the ground at his feet: Josef.

  Will knelt down and examined his colleague. His first impression was that Josef was dead. His clothes were untarnished and his face calm and clean, yet he lay perfectly still. Will put his hand against Josef’s neck and felt for a pulse. It was strong. Will felt relief wash over him and was grateful that his friend wasn’t dead. Will shook Josef gently at first, then stronger, willing him to wake up. Josef began to stir and Will called out his name over and over. Finally, Josef sat up.

  “What happened?” asked Josef rubbing his head.

  “I don’t know, we just...I don’t know.” Will left Josef and headed toward the plane. He had to know what had happened to everyone else. Between the plane coming down and a minute ago, he had a blank. Tricia was with Tug trying to free Wilfred. His seat had been thrown forward into the one in front of him and it had jammed itself. Wilfred could wriggle his arms and legs, but there was no space to squeeze out. Will didn’t even need to get into the plane to help. He just stood outside and helped Tug, who was pulling at Wilfred’s seat. Tricia was holding Wilfred’s hand, trying to reassure him. He was saying nothing and looked very pale.

  “Come on, you bastard,” screamed Tug as he pulled at the back of the seat.

  Tug was sweating and Will noticed a few cuts and scrapes, but no serious injuries, apparently. Together, they pulled and Wilfred’s seat began to move. Slowly it began to inch backwards and eventually Wilfred was able to clamber out. He almost fell out of the plane and collapsed into Tricia’s arms.

  ‘My God, my God,” was all he said as he sat there on the ground with Tricia holding him.

  Tug jumped down and handed Will a rucksack. “Here, we’re going to need this, mate. Take it over there to the will you? Glad to see you’re back with us.”

  Will took the pack from Tug and walked slowly in the direction Tug had nodded. He felt like he was experiencing everything through a bubble; it was as if he was standing just beside his own body, watching what was going on. Memories started to pop back into his head. The plane had crashed into a village or small town. He remembered the trees giving way to houses and then...then he remembered waking up on the plane, still in his seat. Mark had been shouting at him, but he hadn’t heard a word. He touched his head and recalled that he had scrambled out of the plane with Mark. Claire and Kelly had already been out of the plane before he had collapsed. He must have passed out. He recalled seeing Tricia and a moment ago, Josef. Had he seen Suzy? He couldn’t think. Where was she?

  Will saw Kelly sitting on a low stone wall in front of a decrepit cottage and hurried over to her. His mind was now firing on all cylinders and he dropped the bag at her feet.

  “Are you okay? Where is she? Where’s Suzy?”

  Before Kelly could answer, he heard the reply.

  “I’m here, Will, I’m fine.”

  Suzy appeared from behind him and he grabbed her, thanking God silently that she was alive. He held her out and looked her up and down. Her legs were already showing some nasty bruises and dirt streaked across her face, but she was looking up at him with bright, lively eyes.

  “Are you okay?” she asked him tenderly.

  “I think so. How are you? Is everyone all right?” Will kept a tight hold of Suzy’s hand and turned to Kelly. She was holding a piece of cloth to the back of her head and grimacing.

  “It’s a god damned miracle, if you ask me,” said Kelly. She felt like someone had taken a hammer to the back of her head and she took a quick glance at the bloodied cloth before reapplying it to the back of her head. She needed to keep pressure on, let the wound heal and the blood clot. “Now that Wilfred is out, everyone is off the plane. I think Claire might have broken her arm, but apart from that, it appears we’ve suffered nothing more than cuts and bruises. Rasmus is wrapping her arm up now. He is remarkably fine, all things considered. Just a bump on his head, but otherwise...fine. Thank God, you got Josef up. I was just about to go over there myself but...Mark helped me off the plane. I think something whacked me when we landed. I don�
��t know, I was out of it for a while. Mark’s been trying to figure out where we are.”

  “Holy cow,” said Suzy under her breath. “Here, let me see that.” She took the cloth from Kelly and examined the back of her head, parting the hair so she could see the cut. “You might have a concussion, you know. You’re going to have to take it easy.”

  Kelly pressed the cloth back on her head and winced. The bleeding was stopping, but Suzy was right. Who knew how seriously injured they were really. They had taken a good beating when the plane had come down and could have untold injuries. She was going to have to watch the others for symptoms of concussion or internal injuries. The ones you couldn’t see were the most dangerous. She knew Suzy was right and she should be taking it easy, but that wasn’t really an option now. She was responsible for these people and she was going to have to try getting help quickly.

  “What about the pilot?” asked Will. “I saw the co-pilot, he...when the plane was going down...he couldn’t have made it. But I’d like to thank the pilot. He did well to get us down. If it wasn’t for him we’d all be dead right now.” Will looked around for the pilot.

  “Sorry, mate, that’s not going to happen.” Tug dropped a couple of bags at Will’s feet. “He didn’t make it either. Impact tore him right out of his seat and cut him in half.”

  “Fuck,” said Kelly.

  They were quiet then. The pilot’s death hit them. More than that, they had crashed and both pilots were dead. They all realised they were on their own now with no plane and no pilots.

  “We need to make a move. The plane is not safe. I don’t know how long it’ll take for the fuel to catch fire, maybe never in this weather, but there’s fuel all over the place and we shouldn’t hang around to find out.” Tug was putting on a jacket he had rescued from the plane.

  Will realised it was raining. He hadn’t even noticed before. It was a small rain shower, just a drizzle. Will looked up at the sky, which was dark and bleak. Suddenly, he began to think practically again. He forgot the dead pilot and the pain in his head. He realised Tug had been doing just that too, thinking practically; fetching bags and items from the plane whilst he could. Tug had a short, abrasive manner, but Will respected him for thinking logically when everyone else was panicking. He looked at his watch, but it was broken, the hands permanently stuck at five thirty one.

  “What’s the time?” Will asked, knowing it must be late. The sky was dark and not just because of the rain clouds. The air was cold and the night would not be far away. Will picked up a bag and slung it over his shoulder.

  “Nearly six,” said Tug. “Time to move. Suzy, put this on, you’re going to get cold.” He handed her a jacket he had pulled from a rucksack and she quickly pulled it on over her dress. “Kelly, think you can carry this?”

  Kelly took the final bag from Tug and nodded. “Where are we going to go, Tug? Why do we need to move? We should stay close by. They’ll be looking for us. Planes don’t just disappear; there’ll be search parties looking for us already. Won’t there?”

  Tug shook his head. “The best way to stay alive in a situation like this is to find shelter. We need to stay dry and warm. We can’t sit around here waiting to be rescued. It could be hours away, maybe longer. What if it’s days? We need to find shelter and quickly. It’s going to be dark soon.”

  “That’s not all,” said Will. He turned around and shouted to the others. “Tricia, Wilfred, Josef, we’re leaving. Are you okay to walk?”

  They gave him the thumbs up and Josef went to help Wilfred to his feet. Wilfred was still pale and quiet, but there were no apparent injuries. Rasmus was walking over with Claire who had her left arm wrapped up in a shirt they had found in someone’s luggage.

  “So what do you suggest, Tug? Try one of these houses? See if we can find somewhere to stay for the night?” Suzy noticeably shivered as she spoke and was keen to leave. The sight of the smouldering plane only made her feel more frightened.

  “Somewhere close by, yes. Any of these houses should be fine. Then when the A-team turn up we won’t be far away and we can be out of here.” Tug looked down the street and spied a two-storey building that looked in good repair. He marched off toward it purposefully.

  As everyone followed him, Will thought that Tug had it almost right, but there was something risky about his plan. “Tug, slow down. I’m not sure we should stay here, not so close anyway.”

  “Why not?” Tug continued walking away.

  “Because they’re probably here. If not already, then they won’t be far away. They would’ve noticed us, the crash, the noise...we should try to get away from this place. Hide.”

  “Hide? Is he mad? We need to be found, not hiding.” Claire looked up at Rasmus who chose to ignore her. He knew what Will was getting at.

  “What are you on about, mate? I know where we are, I’m not stupid.” Tug snorted and turned down a path to the house he wanted to check out. “The things you’re talking about are a load of bollocks. They’re dead. There ain’t been fuck all on this island for years and they are long gone. What did they live on, the fresh air? Give me a break.”

  Will was concerned that Tug’s bravado might lead them into further trouble and hurried to catch up. He had to calm Tug down. There was logic to his thinking and he was right, they did need to get out of the cold rain. However, staying so close to the crash site might not be a good idea and Tug seemed to have made his mind up. “Please, Tug, just slow down. We need to talk about this.”

  Tug stopped at the front door. The house was dark and the windows showed no sign of movement inside. The drapes had rotted away and the rooms inside were bare and dusty. The rain still fell from the darkening sky and Tug wiped the water from his face. “Look, Will, I’m not going to argue with you. You do what you do, and I’ll stay out of the way. If we ever get to the bloody Antarctic, you can be in charge. But right now, you need to listen to me. Talking is not what’s needed now, it’s action. I am here for one reason only, and that is to look after all of you. That is exactly what I’m doing. Yes, the situation has changed, but my job hasn’t.” Tug put his hand on the front door.

  “Maybe you should just hang on, Tug?” said Mark. He had been up and down the street looking for signs of life, but the village was deserted. He had taken some photos of the crash site and then seen the others all headed for this house. “You don’t know what’s behind that door? What if you open it up and they’re inside, just waiting to pounce?”

  Mark was standing with the rest of the group in the front yard, surrounding Will and Tug. He had no interest in stoking the embers of the argument that seemed to be brewing. Will might be right though. They had just cheated death and Mark didn’t fancy heading into another dangerous situation. He was a journalist, not a fighter or an explorer. Compared to Tug, he looked spindly and weak and he felt exhausted.

  “What are they on about?” asked Claire. She pulled at Rasmus’ sleeve. “Who’s here? Where are we?”

  Rasmus was stroking his beard as he looked down at her. He knew they were in terrible danger, but didn’t know how to break it to the girl. “The residents of this island, Claire, are not friendly. They’re...look, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Best to keep quiet, Claire. I’ll fill you in later.” Rasmus held his breath as Tug pushed on the front door and it opened an inch.

  “Tug, don’t. Please,” Will brushed the rain from his eyes and asked Tug quietly. He was concerned that even their raised voices might be enough to draw them out. They couldn’t afford to get into a pissing contest now. Tug was doing what he thought was the best thing for all of them. He didn’t know that he might be leading them into peril.

  “We’re going in. It’ll be fine. Come on.” Tug pushed the door harder and it swung open.

  Will looked through the doorway into the darkness and hoped they were alone. After surviving the plane crash, he doubted any of them, Tug included had the strength to fight off the Deathless.

  Tug stepped over the threshold and entered the house.r />
  FIVE

  Tug stepped into the dark hallway of the house and waited. He listened for sounds, anything that might suggest they weren’t alone. He waited ten seconds and counted slowly to twenty. The cold house remained dark and quiet. Tug turned around where Will was stood nervously in the doorway.

  “Told you it’s safe. There’s nothing here. They’re a myth, Will, a legend like sodding Bigfoot or the yeti. They were real once, years ago, but they’re dead now. Come on. Just watch your step, yeah? These floorboards are probably damp and rotten, so be careful.”

  Surprised, yet happy that the house was empty, Will followed Tug and signalled for the others to follow him. As they all trooped inside, Will caught up with Tug. He had gone ahead into the kitchen and was rummaging through the drawers.

  “Tug, you got lucky, but next time, what if something is behind the door. You know what the Deathless are? The clue’s in the name. We don’t know how long they can live. They could very well be coming here right now.” Even in the darkness, Will could see Tug was paying him little attention.

  “Live? Ha, that’s a good one, Will. Frankly, I doubt there are any around, and dead people don’t live, they just exist, the same way a worm does when it’s been cut in half. They should’ve been destroyed years ago. All we need to do now is focus on surviving until the rescue comes. We need warmth, shelter, food; every minute we waste talking about this is a minute closer to not surviving this bloody place.”

  Kelly and Suzy joined them in the kitchen and the others followed. Chairs scraped on the kitchen floor as Tricia, Wilfred, Josef and Claire sat down.

  Mark was fiddling with the camera around his neck, adjusting it for the low-level light conditions. He hadn’t prepared for this, but he knew a good photographer should be ready for any event and he didn’t intend to go home empty-handed. He had taken a couple of snaps of the plane crash and wanted to get as much as he could from this strange place.