We stood all three, with opened mouths at the horror before us. We heard loud footsteps and turned to see Chief Manteo and Wanchese running towards us. They, along with many others had seen the events from the fort and had arrived dripping with sweat. They told us this must be a curse and that we should return to the fort.
Too shook up to argue, we did as they suggested and then observed from the watchtowers as they cut down their former friends one by one, before applying a tomahawk repeatedly to their skulls.
23st September 1587
Well John, it shall soon be of little consequence whether or not thou make it back here with fresh supplies. This whole continent is rotten, nothing will become of it, I can guarantee that.
The night following our ghastly experience by the oak tree, I was roused by a sentry who said he heard noises. I emerged and scaled the watchtower by the south gate. Sure enough, I could hear a loud and constant tapping sound. It was emanating from right below me, yet due to the darkness I could not see the source. I called out to it, but no response was forthcoming.
At once I summoned all men of fighting age to the thoroughfare. They were not happy, yet I did not care for such feelings, this was an emergency and it was far better to assume we were about to be under attack and be ready for it, than to be murdered in our beds simply because I had not the inclination to arouse the colony from their slumber. I counted thirty eight and our number included old men as well as the ten year old Hastings.
As first light emerged, I contemplated the pitiful straggle who’d been suffering greatly, who were willing to give their lives to protect their womenfolk from whatever heathen awaited us. They included carpenters, gardeners, labourers, lumbermen as well as rich land owners who now stood united against a common foe. Never had I before seen such a downtrodden bunch. Our number included the starving and malnourished, the fever ridden and weak and not one of them possessed the strength, nor had a clue about how to use the weapons they were holding. However, whence one had a bunch of men whose womenfolk and children were threatened then those men would suddenly become a formidable fighting force, or so I truly hoped. We had but one soldier among our number, he was large, he was fierce and we would heavily depend upon Putnam Bonner.
I scaled the watchtower and finally, in the light I saw what had been the cause of the incessant racket that even now was intensifying in its volume and frequency. As I looked down, I saw Mr and Mrs Dodd. They were filthy, their skin had begun the decomposition process for it was riddled with holes chewed through by creatures of the soil. Tom Dodd had blood on his tattered tunic where he’d been impaled whereas his wife, well I still cannot bring myself to write the words. They both shared similar facial wounds suffered by the two savages strung up on the oak, for they had both chewed through their lips.
I looked down at the men who bore a curious mix of weaponry. I saw kitchen knives held by children. I saw large wooden sticks with sharpened points. Two men held an oar each from the pinnace. George Oakwood held a hammer and I saw the two largest men, positioned to the front of our rabble with a spontoon each. Putnam Bonner held his musket which I prayed would be made to count. I saw our two natural friends take their positions and I was glad they were here.
I decided to keep my position on the watchtower from where I could best serve the colony by keeping watch on the action from a safe distance. I was sure we could take care of Mr and Mrs Dodd without any real problems, but the colony could not take the chance, no matter how small of the Acting Governor coming to harm, especially considering I was the only tiler among our number.
I gathered my courage and then ordered the men below to unbar the gates. I wanted to take the attack to these vermin, for we would not be cowed. Two men rushed forward, lifted the heavy iron crossbar and the gates slowly swung inwards under the pressure from the two demons.
There was silence for a few seconds whilst we all studied the spectacle of two dead people limping and blundering into the fort. If they were anything like us, they were hungry. They would stop at nothing to attain that food and that food was gathered in front of their very faces, dozens of times multiplied. If they were willing to eat their own faces, then I had little doubt they’d have qualms about eating English flesh.
It was Putnam Bonner who made the first move whence he fired his musket at Tom Dodd. The crack of the musket was deafening and the echo reverberated for many seconds, sending birds flying from the far off trees. The ball struck him in the neck and I saw chunks of flesh shoot from the other side. If there’d been any doubt as to the kind of monster we were fighting, that doubt disappeared whence he continued staggering towards our group, who were now rightly terrified.
I shouted at them to attack. The mob descended upon them like a pack, moving as one. It was so dense, I could not make out from my bird’s eye perspective just who it was that was striking the blows. The sound of stick on meat sickened me to my stomach.
I saw movement from the corner of my eye and so I turned towards the forest. The sight horrified me to my very soul. Whilst the colony thumped and pounded on the two victims below me, many more lined up to take their place. Through the trees were emerging dozens, thirty, no fifty of them. But they weren’t like Tom Dodd and his wife. These were naturals. They wore body paint in diverse immaculate designs. Animal skin clothing covered their genitalia. Long hair lay platted behind their heads. The women shamelessly exposed their bare breasts. One heathen limped towards us carrying one of our shovels. They walked without any real purpose, like they sensed where they were going yet were not quite certain. Several of them bumped into trees and into each other. One fell into a hole in the ground which I then realised was where we had buried Tom Dodd. That was whence I saw hands then arms emerging from the ground. Our elderly councillor, who’d only days earlier died from hypothermia pulled himself out from the fresh grave. More arms emerged from the soil and I soon realised all our dead would join the naturals in attacking us. We would soon be overwhelmed.
I had to make a choice there and then. Either we allow these ghastly fellows to descend upon us and try to fight them at a major disadvantage, or we shut the gates and attempt to wait it out. The latter would be tough, since our only source of sustenance were the mushrooms we’d scavenged for in the marshes. Yet if we did not close the doors, we would lose many of our number at best.
I descended the ladders whilst shouting at the men to bar the gates, for the closest enemy were only yards away. As I ran by the severe thrashing being given out to our former friends, I saw their faces had been literally pounded into the turf.
We pushed the gates shut. But suddenly an equal force resisted, catching us in equilibrium. I shouted at more of my friends to join us in closing the giant doors for numerous arms and heads poked in through the gap. One such head was only inches from my face. It was a savage with blue stripes painted vertically down his face. It looked right at me with nothing but sheer hatred in its eyes. I could tell it had food on the brain, its eyes were glazed over but seemed focused on my skull. It jutted forward from the neck in an attempt to get to me, but thankfully my reflexes were honed and I shot my head backwards in an automatic response. What I did get though was a large intake of its breath which reminded me of my mother-in-laws cooking.
The strength of these beasts was great indeed. Thankfully a surge of English arrived from my rear which forced the equilibrium in our favour. The neck of the heathen that had only seconds earlier tried to bite off my nose was crushing between the two doors. Its neck compressed, sinews popped out through the skin. Then there was a burst as the built up pressure became too much. The only thing keeping the head on its shoulders was the spinal column which our combined strength could not crush.
We felt a surge come back at us. Fully grown men skidded backwards, their feet dug deep in the dirt, scraping up dust. The situation was urgent, for soon we would be engulfed; all our men were pushing on the gates. There was no available space on the doors for any spare hands to push, some men were pushing
on their comrades from behind.
Another surge came and with it a nervous cry from the English. My head was full of thoughts. I wondered if it would have been better to have stood and thought rather than try keep them out. At least thence, we could have been in formation awaiting them in a prepared and orderly manner. But now it was too late. If they succeeded in forcing the gates then the result would be carnage, for our weapons had been downed for this effort and we were rapidly fatiguing.
I looked around for Putnam Bonner, by far our strongest warrior. Stupidly, he was pushing the gates close to the hinge where the lever was shortest and he would have the least impact. I looked down below me and little Hastings was pushing right by the gates edge. Bless him, but we were doing this all wrong. I shouted to Putnam Bonner and demanded that he switch positions with Hastings.
He let go of the gate and as he did the equilibrium tipped in their favour. The space between the doors was now large enough for one demon with an extraordinarily stretched neck to squeeze through. The cervical section of his spine was visible through his annihilated scruff.
I could not risk getting myself hurt. I had a wife and baby to think of. Besides, Putnam Bonner was making his way slowly over. I had to make room for him. I did the right thing by stepping away from the door. I really did. Anybody else in my position would have done the same thing.
As I ran towards the clearing, I saw dug-in heels skidding backwards, dust clouding the air even more than before. I reached safety and thanked God. I looked back and saw the gates being forced open. Little Hastings was trampled over as a trickle turned into a flood.
Those bravest of souls who were at the front and centre of the effort were the first to go. Thankfully, the crowd was too dense for me to see the gory details. Those at the back realised it was lost and ran back to the clearing to grab their downed weapons. They were still prepared to fight.
I saw George Oakwood lying atop his son, trying to protect him as they were both ripped apart.
I saw red and picked up an axe. I was even prepared to use it.
Putnam Bonner was still alive. Not only that, but he used the reverse end of his musket to stove in the skulls of any ghoul who came close. He cracked skulls in quick succession, yet the enemy never seemed to understand that he was dangerous. They simply saw the biggest man and therefore the biggest feast.
A natural with the smoothest green skin I’d ever seen ripped muscle tissue from a comrade’s neck. Then a blade penetrated through its abdomen, which it didn’t appear to notice.
Wanchese took down two demons in quick order whence he stroked his tomahawk across their heads. Then one of our former colonists bit into his forearm and he was engulfed by two other demons.
I was ready to use my axe if anything came near me.
Without warning, it became quieter and I realised that our enemy stopped fighting and would instead concentrate on feeding once they had a victim to tear into. That was whence I noticed our numbers were few. Chief Manteo was being consumed by two savages, his tomahawk was bloody and I knew he’d put up a good fight. However, I assumed it would now be easier to pick them off, whilst they were feeding.
Putnam Bonner was unhurt. He asked me if I was ok and I responded that thankfully yes I was, and that I’d taken out either four or five of them, that I’d lost count and now would be a good time for him to finish off these vagrants whilst they were otherwise preoccupied.
He attached his bayonet to the musket. Then, one by one he thrust the blade into the heads of our hungry enemy and I wondered why not one of them retaliated from seeing their brethren being felled in such a manner, for they seemed not to hold the same compassion for their friends that we held for ours.
It was carnage. The dusty turf was mixed with blood, guts, bone and parts I could not hope to identify. The menfolk of our colony were gone.
Terrified women and children glared through windows. Many were sobbing, for their loved ones were no more.
Burnham Redgar had not joined in with the struggle and this angered me, for he’d no womenfolk of his own to protect. He should have been there like the rest of us, risking his life to protect what was most important.
I demanded that Putnam Bonner and I immediately reprimand him for such cowardice and together, we marched over to his lodgings. All was quiet and I guessed he was crying beneath his bed. I was in a bloodthirsty mood following the massacring of my friends and so I’d take no arguments from him at this point in time.
I kicked his door and felt a pain shoot up my leg. I told Putnam Bonner it had been a battle injury. He took sympathy and kicked the door himself. It shot back on its hinges and no sooner had that happened then Burnham Redgar lunged at Putnam Bonner, sinking teeth into his face. The screams from my friend were bloodcurdling. Then after several seconds, they stopped. Burnham Redgar intermittently looked up at me, between mouthfuls of my friend’s facial features. I gripped my axe as hard as I could, raised it above my head and brought it down on his cranium. It split Burnham Redgar’s skull open like a melon.
My wife Eleanor watched from the window of our lodging, a look of admiration on her face. I would die before I allowed any harm to come to my family.
Several vultures landed in the fort and proceeded to peck at the eyeballs of fallen comrades and ghouls indiscriminately. I was not relishing the clean-up, for it would be sure to take an age, so in a way, I was thankful for the vultures and for any contribution they could make.
I walked towards the gates, the scene of our downfall. A dozen bodies lay strewn about the area and so I knew those would have to be cleared away first as a matter of urgency.
I looked across to the forest. I don’t know why I did it. I suppose I had a feeling in my bones, a chill that made me look. What I saw terrified me to my very soul.
It was not over.
Stumbling over no-mans-land were fifteen soldiers.
They were of the same sort of ghoul I’d only just fought so bravely for they dragged themselves in a way similar to what I’d already seen. Yet they wore armour. They wore helmets. They carried spontoons. They walked in a line and were a more disciplined sort of ghoul. They slowly advanced over the field, each one looking at me.
It was over. I would have no chance on my own against these devils, brave as I was.
I charged home and bolted the door, seizing Eleanor and baby Virginia. I would do all I could to protect them. I began to pile anything I could find up against the door. I dragged over a large cabinet, a table and stacked the wooden chairs atop. We’d wait this out for as long as we possibly could. I prayed that soon John would return with the help we so badly needed.
18th August 1590
My name is John White and after three years I’ve finally returned to the place where I’m Governor.
Only, there is nothing left. Nobody is here. Fort Raleigh is silent.
Long grass has sprung up within the confines of the fort. Doors lay off their hinges, large piles of dust lay in the lodgings, where rats have made their home.
My former home is empty. No evidence exists of what happened to my family. The furniture was smashed to bits, the interior walls had been pulled down and I had the terrible feeling something appalling happened.
We searched the entire fort for clues as to the whereabouts of the colony, yet have been unable to find anything. It’s as though they vanished into thin air.
We searched the outside of the fort, where trees have appeared from the ground we once cleared. Then I saw something that will merit investigation. I found, carved into one of the palisades was the word “Croatoan.”
Croatoan is the home of the Croatan tribe, located on the mainland. I can only assume the colony had given up all hope here at Fort Raleigh and had left for fresh fields with fertile land. Yet there is another part of me that believes they were taken under duress, by the unfriendly heathen.
The truth is, I am old and tired. I dearly wanted to arrive here and be with my family, my daughter, granddaughter and son-in-law. I
wanted to see out my days with the colony. But thanks to a war with the Spanish, that is now unlikely to happen.
I shall carry on and look for them. As long as I have any strength left in my body, I shall never give up.
Afterword
Many who have read this story will already know about the Roanoke Colony. It was the very first English colony in the Americas. It is most famous for exactly the reasons noted in the story. Not for a zombie attack, but because all 117 colonists disappeared without trace.
The hardships those early settlers experienced are hard for us living in the 21st century to imagine. Life for those first colonists was so bad that the first settlers on the island (those who built the fort) did indeed leave at the first available opportunity. This was when Sir Francis Drake passed by out of curiosity. In the story it was John White who left with Drake and not the original colonists. In actual fact, John White left with Simon Fernandes, the Portuguese sailor. He left days after the birth of his granddaughter Virginia Dare, though for reasons stipulated in the story, that Fernandes was fed up with the colonists who wanted a trip to the Chesapeake Bay on the mainland.
Fifteen soldiers were left at the fort by Drake when he sailed back to England and neither colonists or soldiers were ever seen again. Though the local Indians did admit to killing “most of them,” no evidence was actually found to substantiate this and John White believed they were merely trying to intimidate them.
Zombie Revolution Page 24
