The Dead Don't Fear

by Shaun Whittington

  Once Craig was over, he grabbed his stick and they moved through the field of long grass, careful they were going after what had happened to Rowley. Craig turned around and could see dozens of them pressed up against the fence. It wasn’t going to hold.

  “We need to speed it up,” he panted. “Otherwise we’re never going to make it.”

  Craig slipped and almost fell over, feeling the weight of Stephen as he tumbled to the floor. Mildred watched as the two fell over and into the long grass. They were both clearly exhausted, but the persistent dead were congregating around the fence. The crackle of the wooden beams that ran across sent shivers down the vertebrae of all three individuals. The fence was slowly weakening and giving way.

  Craig finally got to his feet and he and Mildred tried to pick Stephen up. The portly man was almost in tears and had no energy left.

  “I can’t do it, chap,” he cried. “I’m too tired.”

  “Stephen,” an exasperated Craig began, “if you don’t move your arse, you’re gonna be too dead to move.”

  Although his face was covered in defeat, Stephen tried to get back up with the help of his male and female companion, and as soon as they got up again, the sound of splitting wood could be heard behind them.

  “Move it, people!” Craig yelled.

  Mildred looked over her shoulder and saw the fence giving way and the dead falling over one another. It wouldn’t be long before they got to their feet and started following them, she thought.

  Stephen was exhausted and Craig and Mildred were struggling to move him.

  “You better help us out here, man,” Craig warned him. “Or we’re leaving you here.”

  Stephen found a bit of energy from somewhere, but it was short-lived. Craig peered over his shoulder and could see that a dozen were on their feet and making their way over, whereas the rest had already fallen over their counterparts and were slowly getting up.

  “Move your arse, Stephen!” Craig yelled.

  He then turned to Mildred and told her to let Stephen go. She did as she was told and Craig told her to run, but she refused and tried to help Stephen to move.

  Carrying his stick with his left hand, Craig still had a hold of an exhausted Stephen and put the heavy man over his shoulder, as a fireman’s lift, and stood up. This seemed slightly easier than what they were doing before, but with the ground hard it could have been a lot worse if rainfall had occurred the day before.

  “You go ahead!” Craig called out to Mildred, who still had the two bags over each shoulder. “Head for the road!”

  “I’m not leaving you two alone!” she cried.

  “Look, if these things catch up with us, I’m letting Stephen go anyway. No point two of us dying.”

  Mildred could see the dead were gaining on her and the two men and knew it’d be suicide to fight them off on her own, even with Craig beside her.

  Mildred never moved and Craig pushed her and screamed at her to run. This time she did.

  She turned and began to run ahead. She was certain Stephen was going to die. In the condition he was in, Craig wasn’t physically capable of carrying Stephen over the fields to the main road. He was going to give it a damn try, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Stephen Rowley was going to be left for dead, and there was nothing she or Craig could do about it.

  “Come on!” she called out. “We can make it!”

  She knew that Craig would be too out of puff to respond, so she turned around to repeat her words of encouragement.

  She gasped in disbelief and her face was a picture of confusion.

  “What the...?”

  She dropped the bags and the two weapons onto the ground and narrowed her eyes. What was going on?

  She rubbed her chin in thought and couldn’t fathom what had happened. The dead were picked up by her eyes and they were still shuffling their way towards her, but the two men were nowhere to be seen.

  Craig and Stephen had disappeared.

  *

  The man had been watching the three individuals for a while now and a smile stretched over his face when one of the men twisted his neck, a habit he missed. He stroked his dark beard and continued to watch. He didn’t know the female, but the two males were once people he stayed with back at Little Haywood.

  It was good to see them, but he needed to move on. He should have moved on days ago, but he was stalling. He knew that once he left, he would never return, and it was hard to leave a place where he had grew up and where he, his wife and family used to stay before the world changed for the worse.

  He walked away and checked the jar in his bag. He needed to find a stream to filter more water. He hadn’t eaten in a day, but he felt okay. The bearded man heard a rustle to his side and could see a grey squirrel scampering up a tree. He walked over, took off his bag, and sat down and put his back up against that very same tree. He rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. He winced when he cupped his hands and breathed in them and took a sniff.

  His breath was rotten.

  He had a toothbrush with him, but the dehydration was making his mouth feel like shit.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  It had been agreed that Ward 22 would be the perfect location for a new clinic area. It was central, on the ground floor, and easy to get to.

  Drake had told Karen that he needed Pickle for something and would send Darren to give her a hand to set the place up.

  She thought that that was the plan anyway. Darren had said earlier that he was going to help.

  Some beds had been taken out earlier, but a couple of beds were still left in the place, although the sheets smelt like that they could have done with a wash.

  After over an hour of trying to get the place in some kind of order, Darren and Karen had almost finished putting the medical gear away and in some kind of order.

  “All we need is fresh sheets and blankets for the two beds,” she told him. “And then we’ll call it a day.”

  He nodded. “I’ll sort that out.”

  “And a magic marker, so I can write on the side of the shelves what drugs are what.”

  Darren smiled. “Consider it done.”

  Darren winced and rubbed his stomach. He looked in discomfort and Karen asked what was the matter.

  “Sorry.” His face flushed. “I need to go.”

  “Okay.” Karen was perplexed and watched as the handsome man left the ward, leaving her alone. She muttered to herself, “Well, that was a little bizarre. Something I did, or said?”

  She tidied up and managed to sweep up some of the debris on the floor from all the moving, and then she jumped and swung round when she heard a male clear his throat.

  She smiled at the familiar face and laughed, “I thought you were helping Drake with something.”

  “I was.” Pickle smiled. “Was walking outside and saw Darren leaving the building, holding his stomach. I thought yer had hit him or something.”

  “Charming,” she laughed. “Am I that bad?”

  “Yer have yer moments.”

  “Maybe he has an upset stomach.”

  Pickle walked around the ward and his voice echoed in the room. Months previous, the ward was vibrant with people, with staff and patients, but now the place was empty.

  “Are yer just gonna run this wee place yerself?” he asked her.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I assume so. It won’t be that bad. I’ll probably hardly get any visitors.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “So yer will be sitting in here all day?”

  “No.” Karen shook her head. “I’ll go about my daily business and people can catch me if they want anything or if they need looking at. It might mean I’ll be on less runs.”

  “Drake might take yer off them altogether.”

  “You think?” Karen looked concerned. Sometimes the runs, although dangerous, interrupted the monotony of living on a camp.

  “Think about it,” Pickle began to explain. “Yer
a medical professional, so if ever we lost yer out there ... well, that would be bad for the camp.”

  “Oh.” Karen paused in thought. She had never thought of that.

  Pickle cocked his head to one side and walked over to the door to the ward. She knew what he was doing. He was checking for a lock.

  “Drake will be putting a guard on the door, so when I’m away it’ll stop people coming in and helping themselves.”

  Pickle giggled and said, “Darren seems like a nice lad.”

  “Yeah.” Karen smiled. “A bit odd, but harmless.”

  “Handsome as well.” Pickle smiled.

  “Is he?” Karen decided to change the subject and told Pickle, “Apparently they call him Double D. No idea why.”

  Pickle shook his head and said with a cheeky smirk, “Maybe it stands for Dynamo Dick?”

  Karen never responded and sat down on one of the beds. “I do miss male company, though. Remember when we used to have the occasional hug on the bed?”

  “Yeah.” Pickle revealed a reminiscing smile, but there was sadness behind it. “I think we both needed it. We had only just lost our partners. And there was the whole … the world has gone to the shitter thing going on, which kind o’ made things a bit depressing.”

  “Don’t you ever...?” Karen paused and looked at her friend who had now sat next to her on the bed.

  “Do I ever what?”

  “You know.” She smiled coyly and hunched her shoulders. She had become shy all of a sudden.

  “Come on, Bradley,” Pickle thought her being embarrassed was adorable and added, “Spit it out.”

  “Okay.” She took in a breath and blurted out, “Do you ever get the urge? Or has this whole apocalypse thing...?”

  Pickle laughed and shook his head. He never answered Karen’s question.

  “What?” Karen was baffled by Pickle’s laughing.

  “Yer asking if I ever get any sexual urges?”

  “Yeah.” Karen seemed embarrassed about her queries. “Nothing wrong with asking that, is there? We’re supposed to be pals, aren’t we?”

  “Erm...” Pickle groaned and ran his fingers through his short hair. “If yer must know...”

  “Yes?” Karen giggled, feeling her face getting warmer.

  “I do crack one off every now and again, if yer really wanna know.” Pickle now flushed a rose colour and said, “Happy now?”

  “You must think of someone when you’re doing it.”

  “Jesus.” Pickle shook his head and smiled. “Why do yer need so much detail, woman?”

  “Who is it? Somebody famous?”

  Pickle cleared his throat and said, “I think about Darren’s arse once in a while. But if yer tell him, I’ll tell him yer fancy him.”

  She hunched her shoulders. “He’s alright, I suppose.”

  “I thought you liked Craig, yer bloody floozy?”

  “Piss off. I don’t really like anyone.” Karen folded her arms and added, “With the apocalypse, losing your partner, and then being pregnant and losing the baby, it tends to kill off your mojo.”

  “Yer will get it back.” Pickle smiled and started to tease his friend. “I think Drake has a thing for you as well. You’re a bit of a cock magnet round here.”

  “That's because there ain’t many women around. That's all it is,” said Karen, unfolding her arms. “Anyway, Drake has a thing for anything with a pulse. I reckon he’d be balls deep in Joanne soon enough. At least with Vince you know he’s joking, kind of, but Drake’s a bloody pervert. And as for that Findlay…”

  “That’s men for yer. We’re all dirty bastards,” Pickle snickered.

  “Well they do say that a clitoris, an anniversary, and a toilet have a lot in common because men always miss them.”

  “I don’t need to worry about that. Give me a nice big hairy arse any day o’ the week.”

  Chapter Forty

  Mildred raised her bat and carefully strode through the long grass as the dead gained nearer. She still couldn’t see the two men and called out to Craig and could hear a voice seconds later.

  “Down here!” Craig cried. “Be careful where you’re stepping!”

  She had no idea where the voice was coming from. She could see what was in front of her, but her progress was slow nevertheless, as the idea of being caught in an animal trap and being practically crippled frightened her, especially after what had happened to Stephen. Then those words from Craig, wherever the fuck he was, rattled in her head. ‘Be careful where you’re stepping.’

  A few of the dead that were leading the crowd were a matter of yards from Mildred, but Craig and Stephen were nowhere to be seen.

  She called out to Craig again, and she looked to her left and could see some of the dead dropping and disappearing from her sight.

  What the fuck?

  She turned and focused on the three that were near her. She swiped her bat at the female at the side of her head, putting her down, and then front-kicked the male to give her time to dispose of the remaining one. She turned her bat round and stabbed the creature with the bat’s spike in the centre of the forehead. She pulled the bat out, ready to strike the remaining one.

  More dead disappeared to her left and then cries of anguish from Stephen and Craig assaulted her ears, but she couldn’t go over in the direction of the voices as around fifteen dead began to circle around her.

  Mildred swung her bat at a couple of them, causing very little damage, and then ran from the horde with the screams continuing behind. The guilt was suffocating her, but she didn’t want to sacrifice herself for two men she hardly knew. Plus, she didn’t even know where they were. She could put the dead down and then look for them, but she didn’t have the energy to do that, and where did the other dead go?

  Despite her body full of panic, it dawned on her that the two of them must have fallen down some hole, or something. The dead that had disappeared from her eyes must have done the same, creating a blood bath.

  She took the two bags and climbed the fence at the other side of the field as the dead followed her. She ran to the other side of the lane and headed for a small bridge that had a stream flowing under it, and decided to rest there.

  *

  The bearded man released a heavy breath out and closed his eyes. He never slept very well the night before and was lucky to have got three straight hours. It was a dangerous thing to do, but sleep smothered the man, but then screams from a distance woke him up and he went straight to his feet, pulling out his machete. He turned around and realised he was safe, but the screams continued and they appeared to be coming from the same area where he saw the three people earlier.

  He grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder, and started to run in the direction of the shrieks. He ran across the road and could see the dead scattered about in the field he had been watching earlier, with the long grass, and jumped over the fence.

  He took out his large blade and swiped at the first one he reached. It fell with ease and he looked over and could see the female that was with the two men before, running away and crossing the country road. The dead were facing away from the bearded man, so the first few kills were easy, and by the time number three was put to the ground, two turned and headed for him whilst the remaining ones continued to stagger forwards, heading for the screams.

  The man jumped back as the first straggler almost lunged for him, and then drove his blade through the front of its skull. He side kicked the second Snatcher that quickly approached, pushing it back, removed the blade and then took a swipe at the side of its skull, the blade burying itself four inches in. The machete was withdrawn before it fell to the floor and he looked to see how many were left.

  He put the remaining ones down and then went over to the ditch and could see a dead guy, two active ghouls, and a petrified man climbing out. He held out his hand and the petrified man took it before the two dead had a chance to take him down.

  *

  She guessed that she had been under the bridge f
or around fifteen to twenty minutes, and decided to assess the situation of the field she had escaped from. She left the two bags under the bridge and just took her bat.

  “Fuck it,” she muttered.

  She was going back. There was no way Craig and Stephen could have survived that, but she had to know. She didn’t know them that well, but she had to check it out before she left and continued to pastures new. She never warmed to Stephen, but Craig was decent to her and she liked the man.

  She reached the road and stood behind the fence. The dead had almost disappeared. She could see the backs of five, heading to the collapsed fence where they had fallen through, and assumed most had left that way.

  Her feet came to a sudden stop as her eyes clocked a ditch that she never saw before. She had no idea why and how a ditch was there in the middle of a field. Did survivors create that in order to catch animals to devour? Or was it made for another purpose?

  She could hear the unmistakeable groaning and snarling that the dead made coming from the ditch, and realised that the ones that had disappeared from her eyes earlier must have fallen in there. But did Craig and Stephen?

  She gasped when the realisation hit her.

  Her feet dragged themselves closer to the ditch and she was afraid to look in. She peered over, with her eyes narrowed, and opened them a little, like someone watching a scary movie, and her eyes could see two of the dead on their knees delving their hands into what was left of the bloody mush that used to be Craig and Stephen. Four Snatchers had been put down, but two were still active

  She shook her head and gulped. Her eyes clocked a severed head that she couldn’t work out, and in the corner of the ditch was Craig’s hockey stick.

  “They didn’t stand a chance.”

  The ditch was around six feet in depth. Not impossible to climb out of, but the amount of dead that fell in after Craig and Stephen must have been too much to cope with.