Sleep, Think, Die (Book 2): The Undertaking

by Oldham, S. P.

  He felt like he had just woken up from a fathomless sleep. Instead of being refreshed, he was plagued by guilt and a sudden doubt. What had he missed? Where had he been?

  “I think we better call silence from here on in,” Lavender’s voice was low. It wasn’t as if there had been much conversation, but she gave the squealing cart a pointed look, “We should wake Mayhew, get him up and walking. If we run into trouble, we abandon the cart and everything in it, so it’s best if he’s up on his feet,”

  “You speak for yourself, it’s my cart,” Noble’s words would have sounded childish, except he spoke them with such muted malice that Lavender felt her flesh rise. She shrugged, “Up to you, if you think it’s worth taking on a zombie for,”

  Noble looked like he was about to retort, but thought better of it. Lavender ignored him and went to wake Mayhew. He looked up at her with a blank expression. She watched as he worked out where he was. He nodded as she explained why he needed to get up, rubbing his neck where he had lain awkwardly. She saw pain kick in as he attempted to unfold himself and step out of the cart. Lavender offered both her hands to support him and he took them gratefully.

  “How did you hurt yourself?” Carson asked, concerned.

  “Hey Carson, welcome back,” Mayhew said.

  “What?” Carson looked puzzled.

  “Nothing,” Lavender soothed, “It’s nothing. He got raked by a zombie,”

  “A newcomer,” Noble interjected.

  “A zombie,” Lavender repeated firmly, glaring at the man, “He was lucky to escape with his life,”

  “That’s a matter of opinion,” Mayhew said, his face contorting, “It hurts like a bitch!”

  “I’ll take a closer look at it as soon as I can Mayhew. Maybe there’s something in there that can help,” she nodded towards the farmhouse, “We’ve got to get there in one piece first,”

  They began their slow way down without talking. They were less impeded this side of the hill, the road widening considerably to give them a broader view. Lavender scanned the area continuously for signs of movement. Every now and then she threw a surreptitious glance over at Noble. He was watching like a hawk too, but the look on his face was one more of anticipation than dread. Her distrust of him grew.

  At the bottom of the hill the road offered three options; a right turn, straight ahead, or go through the wide-open five barred gate that led onto a long drive up to the farmhouse. There was nothing to discuss, their course of action already agreed.

  At the end of the drive, on a slight incline, the farmhouse stood like temptation.

  Lavender felt the familiar increase in heart rate, her palms sweaty, her mouth dry. They had to clear the drive, find a way in and then make sure the house was empty. There was still a long way to go until they were home and dry.

  She surveyed the men. Mayhew was a touch too bright-eyed, his face flushed, his skin hot and dry-looking. He was clutching his stomach with both hands, walking in a stumbling fashion. Carson on the other hand looked more restored, if a little bemused. He was alert enough, still strong and physically fit. Noble, she wasn’t so sure about; he was an unknown quantity. There was something about the man that didn’t sit well with her. She hoped that if it kicked off, she was nowhere near him. She didn’t like him and she had a feeling it was mutual.

  A heavy smell hung in the air. At first, Lavender put it down to the fact that it was a farm; farmyards were meant to have an odour. The nearer they drew to the solid-looking front door, the stronger it became. A small, buzzing insect banged into her cheek, flying away irritably. A second fly tangled itself in her hair for a second before getting free. Lavender swatted her hand in front of her face. What she had believed to be a mass of darkness to the side of the house, in front of some outbuildings, turned out to be a cloud of flies.

  “I don’t like this,” Carson whispered.

  “Me neither,” Lavender agreed, “What’s with all the flies, Noble”

  “Dead cows, that’s what,” Noble said, “They were all left in the stalls where they had been ready for milking. With nobody to let them out, they just died where they stood. No food, no water for months on end. Nothing but bones and maggots now,”

  “And flies” Mayhew said sardonically, “Look, I just need to lie down somewhere, and soon. Can we go inside, leave the outbuildings for another time?”

  “No problem,” Noble said, “Follow me,”

  They reached a solid front door painted white. It looked to be squarely shut. Still at the handle of the cart, Noble gave Lavender a rough nod.

  “Go ahead and open the door,” he prompted

  Lavender hesitated, looking at Carson.

  “We have to take a look inside Lavender. Do as he says and open the door,” Carson said, not unkindly.

  Lavender gave the door a gentle push, opening it a crack. Encouraged, she pushed it further. It gave onto a cool hallway, cold tiled floor underfoot. She stood for a moment, just listening. It was hard at first to home into the sounds of the house. They were drowned out by the regular, somehow reassuring ticking of a Grandfather clock to Lavender’s left. Frowning, she took a few steps down the darkened hallway, to better listen out for movement. All seemed to be quiet.

  Carson laid a hand on her shoulder, making her jump.

  “We’ll leave everything outside for now, until we know how safe we are here. As soon as we’re sure it’s okay will bring everything in,”

  Lavender nodded. No sense hauling everything in just yet, in case they need to leave in a hurry.

  “Battery operated, must be,” Carson went on, indicating the ticking clock, “there’s been no one around to wind it yet it’s still going. I’m going to help myself to the battery,”

  He went to the clock and with some grunting and straining, turned it around to remove the batteries from the casing.

  “How do you know no one’s around?” Noble asked, watching him. Carson shrugged,

  “I’m taking the batteries anyway. That’s why I think the place is empty, of humans anyhow. Anyone with any sense would have had the batteries away long since. They’re too precious to waste on a clock. No one gives a damn about the time anymore,”

  There was a flash of indignation in Noble’s features; swift and barely noticeable, but Lavender had seen it.

  “Time,” Noble repeated, “Nobody gives a damn about the time,” he said it as if he was mulling over the truth of it. Carson shot Lavender a questioning look. She shook her head and raised her hands in a gesture that said, ‘Don’t ask me!”

  Behind Noble’s back, Carson responded, putting his finger to the side of his head, whirling in it in a loop and making himself go cross-eyed, ‘Crazy!’ he mouthed.

  Lavender laughed softly, then could have cried. It had been a long time since she had seen a glimpse of the Carson she used to know. Maybe Mayhew and the others had got it wrong. Maybe it was just stress, trauma, exhaustion or all three that had made Carson so distant and unreachable all this time. You could recover from mental illness. Perhaps it was a temporary sickness, nothing more sinister than that. If she could just give him some proper rest, some peace and quiet and real food to eat once in a while, he might just get better again.

  She shot Mayhew a hopeful, triumphant look, to find he wasn’t watching the little scene. His eyes were focused on the dark end of the corridor, his entire body rigid. Lavender could sense his fear. Chilled to the bone, her smile vanishing, she turned to see what he was looking at.

  Something was concealed in the gloom. As indistinct as it was, Lavender had a sense of its size; large, and cumbersome. There came a soft snorting sound, followed by a heavy expulsion of air. A footstep on the tiled floor told them it had taken a step closer.

  They took a step back, united in their instinctive response. Lavender saw that Noble was already in the doorway, his hand on the door handle as if preparing to slam it shut.

  Another weighty breath, another heavy footfall. Despairing, Lavender remembered they were once again de
void of weapons. Magda had taken the last decent knife they had onto the bridge with her.

  She put her hand on Carson’s arm, “We run together,” she said, not taking her eyes away from the far end of the hall.

  “Together,” Carson agreed.

  Mayhew was on the bottom step of a flight of stairs, “I’m taking my chances up there,” he said, “I can hardly walk, much less run,”

  “Then it’s every man for himself,” Noble rasped. Lavender risked a look back at him.

  “Noble, if you plan on shutting us in with a zombie then you better know that the first thing I do when I get out is come find you,” she warned.

  Noble’s face fell, his expression one of utter revulsion, “If you get out,” he said, evidently disgusted that she had dared to speak to him like that. He was going to say more, but he was cut off by a low, deep moan. It was the sound Lavender had been dreading. The sure indicator that you were dealing with a zombie.

  “Shit!” she hissed, her hand tightening on Carson’s arm, afraid they had left it too late to turn and escape.

  More movement. A white-faced figure, big and long-featured, showed ghostly in the gloom. Another step, then another until it stood in a pool of weak light allowed in by one of the high-set windows running along the stairs.

  Long-lashed, bovine eyes blinked at them. The cow mooed softly, plaintively. It took another forward step and then stopped, staring at them and chewing ruminatively.

  “Jesus Christ!” Mayhew exclaimed, exhaling a long breath and sagging down onto the stairs in relief, “Jesus fucking Christ!”

  “A cow?” Lavender marvelled. She turned to Carson, wide-eyed in disbelief, “A cow!” she said again, “It’s just a cow!”

  “Just a cow,” Carson echoed. He pulled her to him and held her tight, breathing warm air into her hair, “Thank God for that,” He kissed the top of her head, laughing softly.

  “God’s got nothing to do with it!” Noble snapped. He looked disappointed.

  “I thought you said all the cows were in the milking shed?” Lavender said accusingly.

  “Well obviously not all of them. This one isn’t,” Noble sneered.

  Lavender suspected she would have to deal with him, sooner or later. For now, she was content just to be safe in Carson’s arms.

  Back on the Farm

  “I reckon that cow means two things. Firstly, the house must be open at the back since cows don’t open doors and secondly, this part of the farm is probably zombie free, for now anyway. Unless they’re out there and they just haven’t caught wind of us yet,” Lavender pulled reluctantly from Carson’s embrace, “so first order of business is we shut the back door, if there’s one left to shut. We make it as secure as we can, then we investigate upstairs. Anyone disagree?”

  Nobody spoke, so Lavender went on, “Mayhew, no offence but you’re next to useless. Stay where you are for now, we’ll be as quick as we can,” she glanced at Noble, who wore a smug look on his face, “You okay?” she asked Carson.

  “Fine,” he said. He looked faintly offended at the question.

  Lavender longed to talk to him alone. Maybe later. She turned from him and headed towards the cow. It looked at her as she approached, benign but unmoving, blinking away a pair of flies that were fussing around its right eye. She put a hand on its broad nose and pushed gently backwards. The cow simply nodded its head, not moving an inch. Lavender tried again, pushing more firmly whilst making the sort of clicking noise people made when beckoning a hesitant dog. The cow took a faltering backward step, then several forwards, sending Lavender backwards into Carson. Behind her, Noble sniggered loudly.

  “If you can do any better, be my guest,” Lavender stepped aside with an exaggerated flourish.

  “No problem,” he said gruffly, stepping forward, “get out of the way,”

  Lavender scowled, but did as she was bid, she and Carson joining Mayhew on the stairs. Noble turned around and opened the front door. He approached the cow, stroked gently behind her ear, then walked forward, keeping a hand placed on her neck. The cow followed obediently, exiting the front door, circuiting the hand cart. Noble removed his hand and returned to the house. Part way down the drive the cow seemed to notice he had gone. It stopped, looked back over its shoulder at him and mooed loudly.

  “You’re not just going to let it go?” Mayhew spoke softly, his exhaustion beginning to tell in his voice, “You do realise that’s a beef dinner just walking away from us?”

  It was Noble who replied, “She won’t go far, cows never do. She’ll be there for the taking when we’re ready,”

  “I don’t imagine it’s easy to kill a cow,” Carson said thoughtfully, “not without a shotgun or something,”

  “It’s easy enough if you know how,” Noble said ominously. He never offered further explanation.

  “Right, we need to get this house shut down as best we can,” Lavender said, suddenly keen to be out of Noble’s presence.

  “Then let’s go” Noble said, already striding out down the dark hallway.

  *

  The first thing Lavender noticed in the big farmhouse kitchen that the hallway led into, was the flies; hundreds of them, buzzing and zipping all over the place. The second thing was the blood. There were copious amounts of it, just about everywhere; congealed, dried blood. It coated the walls, covered the floor, spattered the ceiling. It cast a crimson, spotted film over the windows. A solid looking kitchen island sitting in the middle of the room was plastered in it, as well as small mounds of gristle and chinks of bone and tissue, a heavy looking meat cleaver amongst it all. It looked for all the world like a hellish butcher’s block. Lavender had no wish to meet the butcher.

  “What the hell?” Carson murmured. Lavender cast an anxious look at him, hoping the sight wouldn’t be enough to send his fragile mind into hiding again. A cool breeze wafted across the space, ruffling Lavender’s hair. She shivered.

  “Let’s get that door shut,” rubbing her arms in an effort to stop goosebumps forming, she stepped across the floor, careful not to slip, swatting flies out of her face with every step. It was a stable door, the bottom half capable of becoming detached from the top, the two halves locking separately. It shut easily enough, though Lavender had a queasy moment when she had to kick an unidentifiable lump of flesh out of the way so she could close it fully. She shut her eyes and nudged it with her foot, unwilling to see what it was, but not before she realised there was human hair attached to it. Gagging, she bolted both doors, then sagged against them, sickened.

  She turned. In the rapidly deepening gloom, Noble was staring at her wordlessly from across the room, apparently oblivious to the buzzing insects. Carson, flapping his arms in front of him, stepped between them and snatched up the meat cleaver. Noble shifted his gaze, now watching Carson warily.

  “This will be useful anyway,” Carson said, holding the cleaver aloft, “What do you think happened here?” He spoke to them both, but he turned to look at Noble. They locked eyes for a moment, a sudden palpable tension in the room. Noble looked down at the implement Carson was holding and said, “Who knows? Looks like a bloodbath,”

  It was Lavender who broke the ensuing silence, “Whatever happened here, we’re stuck for the night. It’s too dark now to keep walking and we don’t know where we’re going anyway. We need to check the rest of the house out, then pick a room for the night. I say an upstairs room, gives us a fighting chance of hearing anyone coming. Check every drawer and cupboard first,” Lavender went on, “if they left that lying around,” she pointed to the cleaver, “there could be other stuff too,”

  Noble turned on the spot where he stood, next to the sink. He crouched low to check the cupboard.

  “Empty,” he reported.

  Lavender answered him with a look, then carried on searching. She had been right. The kitchen had obviously been a scene of violence at some point, but who or whatever the perpetrators were, they hadn’t bothered looting the cupboards. She pulled open a drawer to find a
pile of clean, neatly folded tea towels inside. A second drawer was full of cutlery, still in neat rows in a separator. It struck Lavender as oddly surreal, to find such normality amidst a scene of massacre. As well as the cleaver, she had also now added a small paring knife, a pair of kitchen scissors and a corkscrew to their arsenal.

  “Let’s get back to Mayhew,” Lavender said, noticing Carson hadn’t moved to help.

  “Just a minute,” Noble stopped her, “You promised me a hot meal, remember?”

  “Not me, Mayhew,” Lavender said, incredulous, “But he’s not up to the job just now so I will do it, but later. We’ve got to make sure we’re alone first,”

  Noble grunted, “Well how about this then? I check downstairs, your man here checks upstairs, and you start cooking,”

  He reached up to a rail hanging over the kitchen island, pulled down a large copper pan and set it on the bloodied surface, “You can get a fire going in there,” he said, “Now, what’s for dinner?”

  Lavender stood agape, staring at the man, “Are you out of your mind? You don’t seriously expect anyone to cook in the middle of all this?” She gestured around the gore-spattered room, swiping at flies tired of the old blood and in search of new.

  “Why not? It’s a kitchen, you cook,”

  “It’s a kitchen? It’s a kitchen,” she turned to Carson appealingly, wide-eyed with disbelief.

  Carson didn’t reply. He was looking down at her like she was a stranger again. Lavender went cold; not now Carson, don’t leave me now.