The memory of someone sobbing in the night came to her. In her mind’s eye, she saw the girl, Naomi, rising up from where she had lain alongside Joel.
Not her problem. Lavender put her misgivings aside. Her only concerns were for herself and Carson.
A scream came from the container. Lavender stopped, screwing her eyes up against the nightmarish vision of what had gone on up there. Unable to stop herself, she turned and looked up, all at once assailed by doubts. She could have done more for the boy maybe; she could have tried harder to save him. She hoped he was dead by now, free of pain and terror, no longer suffering the torture the Thinker was putting him through.
Something came flying out of the container to land in a heap at its base. Lavender took a step back, recognising the misshapen, bloody mass as Evan’s remains, only his shredded clothes identifying him. He was dead then; a blessing. Time alone would tell if he would reanimate.
There came another scream. Puzzled, Lavender looked upwards again. They had left no one else behind, and she was certain no one would be foolish enough to have gone back. So, who was screaming?
The tall, contorted outline of the Thinker appeared in the doorway. The sun was just beginning to rise, bathing the thing in an eerie grey light. The hatchet still hung from its belly, the lawnmower blade still dangled awkwardly from its back. It had its hands at its ruined face, like a soul in torment. The sound it was making was strangulated and forced, but it was uncannily close to crying. Something deep within Lavender stirred, making her uneasy. Carson was watching too, and he inched closer to her, though he kept his hands still at his sides.
The Thinker fell to a sudden crouch, its head resting against its knees despite the hatchet. Over it, the cruel hands locked and interlinked. It began to rock back and forth, like an inmate in a catatonic state.
“What the hell?” Lavender whispered softly, expecting no reply.
The Thinker looked up suddenly, Lavender at once fearful that it would jump from its vantage point and give chase. She backed up a few paces, gripping Carson’s hand.
Heart thudding in her chest, she watched as the Thinker stood once more. It appeared to inhale; a deep, shuddering breath, though its lungs were surely useless. Then, when she thought it would bend its knees and jump, it let out a roar.
Not a roar; a word, “No!”
The sound was long and drawn out, coming out more like ‘noooooo,’ but it was enough to chill her to the bone. This time it was Carson who began to move first, tugging her backwards, the elemental wrongness of the whole thing reaching even him. She complied, but slowly, her backward steps halting. The Thinker had raised its hands, appeared to be looking at them like it had never noticed them before.
Then it turned them on itself, with a rage and a ferocity that far outstripped anything Lavender had ever witnessed before.
It sunk its hands deep into its own body, tearing off lumps of blackened flesh and throwing them aside. It heaved out the hatchet and dropped it with a clang at its feet, its innards spilling out to coil atop it. With one hand it reached and tore the lawnmower blade free, tearing itself wide open. It held the vicious metal above its head and threw it, with a force it should not have been capable of. Lavender swore, releasing Carson’s hand and ducking aside. The spiral blade bounced and ricocheted towards them, passing harmlessly between them to come to a rocking rest upon the gravel. Lavender looked back at the Thinker, sure that it had not meant the lawnmower blade to hit them. They had simply been in the way. Wrong place, wrong time; the story of her life. She saw it look at its own hands a second time, curling a huge fist about its own neck. Lavender was too slow to look away as it tore out its own throat. The other hand reached up to its eyes and at last she turned, forcing Carson to do the same. They were going now. They were leaving this place.
Outside the Yard
They were out of breath by the time they reached the gate. Lavender had made no attempt to find the others. She had lost everything but the clothes on her back, as flimsy as they were, but at least she still had Carson.
She should have stopped to check the way was clear. She understood that as soon as she laid eyes on the tall metal structure. Too late now: nothing stood between them and it.
The fence they had scrambled over the night before, using the last of their strength to get into the yard, was now buckled and twisted, the gate itself pushed wide. The heavy-looking chain that had secured it had been snapped clean in two, the padlock still firmly locked and dangling from one length where it remained draped over a bar, as if had been no more than a pendant on a flimsy necklace. It looked for all the world as if a vehicle had driven into it a couple of times in a bid to break it down. Except Lavender knew there had been no such vehicle. It had been an age since she had seen anything motorised in action. Fuel was a thing of the past, besides which she would have taken a keen interest if someone had actually rolled up in a truck. Something else had caused this damage; what was more, it had succeeded in its efforts to get in. She thought about the strength required to snap that deadweight chain in two, nausea rising in her stomach. The Thinkers she had seen had always been tremendously strong. If this was some newer, more powerful version, some awful mutation, then the sooner they were away from here, the better.
The thought occurred to her that she had no idea where she was heading. Not that that was anything new, but she had enough of craziness these last few days. A solid start to their next journey might be enough to shake off the uneasiness that had settled over her, if only for a while. Joel had mentioned a once popular sandy beach just a little way down the road. Maybe there had been something of a resort there. If they were lucky, they might find a place to hole up and rest while she gathered her thoughts. Somewhere easy to defend.
She fought off her growing despair at her situation. Carson was become more and more feeble-minded, ever more unpredictable. In her heart she knew things would have to change soon, right now she didn’t have the strength to even think about it.
Carson’s hand in hers, they stepped through the gate together, putting her in mind of a married couple crossing a threshold. A ridiculous notion, given the circumstances. She felt Carson shiver against the cold, her own skin still pricked with goose-bumps at what she had witnessed. She hoped this beach was not too far away. More than that, she hoped the hail would hold off today. If it started again, they would be forced under cover, which would seriously hamper their getaway.
“Wait!”
A soft, imploring voice behind them. Lavender turned, surprised to see Naomi standing there, her thin arms wrapped about herself. She looked small and vulnerable there alone. Lavender felt a pang of pity for the girl. She said nothing, waiting for her to speak.
“Let me come with you, please?” the girl said, “I won’t be any trouble I swear. Maybe I can help. I’ve brought some things,” she held out one of the hessian sacks, a few items making shapes in the bottom.
Lavender was horrified, “You didn’t go back up into the container?”
Naomi shook her head, “No. Joel has another place where he stores things we need. I went there,”
Lavender remembered the boys telling her the same thing. She nodded vaguely, “Does he know you’ve taken them?”
Naomi looked down at her feet, shaking her head ‘no.’
“Shouldn’t you ask him, before you just help yourself?” Lavender was secretly impressed with the girl, but the last thing she needed was an irate, self-righteous Joel on her tail, demanding his belongings back. She noticed he was borderline obsessive over things he deemed to be his own.
“He never asked me,” Naomi said cryptically, finding the nerve to move forward and past Lavender and Carson, “It’s cold. Shall we get going?”
Lavender knew the girl was changing the subject. For now, she let it drop. She couldn’t wait to get away from Joel herself. But the matter wasn’t over – far from it. Tonight, when Carson slept, she and Naomi would sit and have a quiet little chat
.
*
They set off in silence. It stayed that way, especially once it became clear that Naomi knew the way to the beach and all Lavender and Carson had to do was follow her. It seemed the girl was keen to avoid both Lavender’s eye and her conversation, for she remained a few steps in front the whole time, jangling the bag awkwardly as it kept bumping into her shins.
Eventually they left the ruined roadway, more or less covered in weeds, cracked and potholed sufficiently to wreck the suspension of any vehicles even if there were any for the taking, exchanging it for the rise and fall of overgrown sand dunes, thick with long, wavy grasses. The yard and all its tainted ugliness fell further and further behind, as they trudged on for what felt like hours. Carson barely made a sound, head down, trudging wordlessly on. Lavender began to feel the pull as their route took them on a gradual but definite incline. Even though the hail had heeded her wishes and held off, the air was still cold, her breath visible. The midday sun was a weak, watery thing in the seemingly constant grey sky, offering no warmth and very little light, the day remaining dull.
They were about to crest the hill. Lavender had already decided to call a halt when they got there; they were all in need of a rest. There was no need for her to utter a word. Naomi got there first, ahead of them. She dropped the sack at her feet and turned to look at them, a muted look of triumph on her face. Lavender caught up to her, immediately seeing why.
Stretched out before them, was a small beach. It was flanked either side by cliff edges that terminated in rocky outcrops and tantalising rock pools. The tide was out, leaving half of the beach a powdery yellow, the other a wet, gleaming beige. It looked as if there were several large boulders dotted across its width. In the pale sunlight, not a soul in view, it was breath-taking.
She took a minute to simply enjoy it. A waft of salt air rushed her nostrils, bringing waves of nostalgia with it. She pushed it aside, no strength left to indulge in childhood memories that might reduce her to tears if she dwelled on them too long.
She brought herself back to the here and now. There was still a way to go to get to the beach. They had to tackle the somewhat sharper decline down, towards what looked to be a concrete walkway. It zig-zagged on, presumably leading down to the beach itself. To her left, the frigid ocean, to her right, the remains of a seaside promenade. Even from this distance it was obvious the shops and stalls had long since been robbed out. The huts and buildings were in a sorry state of repair. Her heart sank a little; there would be no shelter to be found there. She scanned further afield. Immediately behind the promenade there was a road, lined with guest houses, bed and breakfasts, bars, cafes; the usual seaside offerings. Behind that, there appeared to be a few houses and other buildings, more in keeping with a small settlement or village than a true resort, and behind that, a small field full of caravans.
To her dismay, Lavender saw that most of them were on their sides, blown over by storms maybe; more likely toppled by hordes of rampaging undead when the apocalypse really took hold here. She had an unpleasant feeling about the place, already deciding to give it a miss.
Naomi was watching her; she could feel the girl’s eyes on her. She turned to her, just catching her proud smile before she hid it, the fearful look returning. Lavender wanted to reach out to her, knowing instinctively it was the wrong thing to do. Instead, she dug her hands into her worn pockets and said, “It’s quite a view. Want me to have a turn lugging that thing?” She nodded down at the hessian sack.
“I can manage it,” Naomi said, snatching it back up, already starting out on the way down, “I’m glad you like it,” she said, not turning around, though Lavender thought she heard the ghost of a smile in the girl’s voice.
*
The walk to the bottom of the dunes, to meet the path below, was uneventful. Too uneventful for Lavender’s liking. Carson hadn’t spoken a word for hours now. She tried to remember when he last had an episode of genuine absence. When they really kicked in, he could be gone from her for days, even as he stood right at her side. It was easier to deal with than the violent outbursts and irrational thinking, but it frightened her when it happened. One day, she was sure, he would go so deep inside his own mind that he would never come back.
She stroked his arm in a gesture of reassurance. He didn’t shrug her off, nor did he reciprocate. He had looked out at the view once, at the crest of the dunes, then refocused on his feet again. Lavender buried a sigh, turning to Naomi.
“Down to the beach is it?”
“Looks like it,” the girl replied, “there used to be a path that wound around here,” she pointed, “to take you right to the prom, but it looks like it’s crumbled, or caved in or something,”
Lavender’s gaze followed the daintily pointed finger, seeing she was right. The path ahead was so badly smashed in there was no question of attempting to follow it.
“You had some extreme weather round here?”
The girl shrugged, “Not that I can recall, no,”
Lavender dismissed it, “Oh well, down to the beach it is then. Hope you brought your bucket and spade,”
It was a feeble joke, yet Naomi rewarded her with a beaming smile, a true smile in return.
“Funny you should say that,” she said, dipping into the sack and pulling out a child’s beach bucket and spade in a garish shade of red.
It was Lavender’s turn to laugh in surprise, “You know it’s not a good idea to go making sandcastles just yet?” she added, unsure the girl really understood that.
“Of course!” she scoffed, the smile disappearing, “I just thought it might be useful, that’s all. There wasn’t time to really choose what to bring. I just grabbed the stuff closest to me and shoved it in the sack,” she explained.
“It will come in handy I’m sure,” Lavender said soothingly, “but now it really is my turn to carry this thing.” She picked up the sack without waiting for Naomi’s agreement, leaving her holding the bucket and spade, “Okay, here’s what we do; once we’re down on the beach we stay as close to the rocks as we can. If we strike out across the beach, we’ll stand out like sore thumbs. Until we know what we’re dealing with, we keep conversation to a minimum,” a thought occurred to her, “You’ve been here a few times Naomi? When was the last time you visited? Ever run into trouble?”
“The first couple of visits we had some close calls yeah, but that was early on. I haven’t been here for probably a couple of months now, maybe more. Joel and the boys come back now and then, scavenging. They don’t say much, and I don’t ask,” her eyes flicked away.
Lavender felt more hopeless still. Chances were, anything of use Joel or others had already taken. She had no choice but to go on anyway. Nothing left to say, she stepped down onto the cold, wet sand.
It took her sometime to realise that the boulders she thought she had spied up on the dunes were in fact bodies, strewn in heaps across the beach. One or two lay alone, but mostly they were small, funereal mounds of corpses. She experienced a moment of panic at the thought they might be undead, then saw it couldn’t be the case. The sand around the piles was unblemished, no dragging marks or footsteps. The corpses themselves were too rotten and sunken in on one another to have ever been reanimated. The stench of death mingled with the salt air, making her wrinkle her nose in distaste. These were the unfortunate dead; or perhaps they were the lucky ones, she wasn’t sure.
Relaxing a little, she threw the sack over her shoulder, grasping it two handed in a tight bunch of cloth, rough on her skin. She stayed as close to the rocks and the cliff face as she could, having to mind where she put her feet or else end up falling or twisting her ankle on the misshapen rocks. She wondered idly if Carson’s absence was due to some lingering effect of whatever Joel had given him last night. It couldn’t have been. When that wild-eyed zombie had burst into the container, Carson had thought quickly and acted quicker. It was only as they stood, watching it tear itself apart, that he had started to become distant. Pe
rhaps seeing that on top of everything else he had endured, was going to be the last straw for him.
She told herself to snap out of it. He would be more himself after a good rest somewhere safe and some food in his belly. They all would.
They had left the wet sand behind them, the rock pools thinning out, ending abruptly. Lavender stepped down onto the drier sand, her feet sinking into it. At first, the softness underfoot was welcome. Soon though, tiny, irritating grains found their way into her worn and shoddy boots, creeping in under the sole that was slowly coming away. They grated, harsh against her feet. She saw Naomi seemed to have the same problem. Carson’s expression was unreadable.
They reached the foot of a set of six rough concrete steps leading up to the promenade. Lavender called a stop, her finger to her lips, listening.
It was hard to make out any sounds over the distant lull of the sea, the harsh cries of the gulls, the growing whisper of wind. She had no way of knowing what might be prowling the promenade.
“Anything like a weapon in here?” she whispered to Naomi.
The girl thought, biting her lower lip, “there’s a tin opener, and a pair of kitchen scissors,” she offered hopefully.
“Great,” Lavender said, groaning inwardly. She fished about for the scissors, finding the tin opener first, “Really?” she said, unable to keep the incredulity out of her voice.
“I know it’s not much of a weapon, but there are a couple of tins in there too, if you look,” she replied defensively.
“Tins? You mean, tinned food?”
A look of worry settled on Naomi’s face, “Yeah. I’m not supposed to know about them, I don’t think any of us is. Let’s just say I happened to stumble upon them one day,”
“You mean Joel was keeping the good stuff all to himself?” Lavender said dully, not at all surprised. Naomi nodded.
“If he finds out I’ve taken them, he’ll probably come looking for me,” she said.
Mindless Trilogy (Book 3): Brutal Truths Page 6
