Everything would be put to use because, whether we wanted it or not, we were going to have to fight a war.
Chapter 11
The crash as the timber hit the ground was followed immediately by the scream of a man in tremendous pain. I didn’t hesitate before running towards the sound, my small band of bodyguards following along with weapons drawn and eyes alert for signs of trouble.
At the southern end of the village, a crowd had begun to gather and I slowed my pace. There was no point rushing as there was nothing I could do to help that wasn’t already being done.
One of the white-sashes was already there, satchel full of first aid supplies slung over her shoulder as she leant forward over a screaming man. His cries, interspersed with tears and whimpers, were those of a man who knew he was already dead.
“Move aside!”
I gave a grateful nod to the foreman for his bellowed command as the crowd parted before me and I walked forward, face still and calm. They were just workers and even though they had survived the horrors of the apocalypse, they had grown too used to the ease and peace of our island home. It was easy to read the fear in their faces.
“What happened? I asked, taking in the scene before me and glancing across at the foreman.
“Bloody piling gave way!” he snapped, gesturing at the fallen timber. As wide around as a man and twice as high, it pinned the screaming worker beneath it. “Someone cut it!”
That set alarm bells ringing in my head as the murmurs of the crowd increased. Every member of our small fighting forces was spending their days and nights guarding the village but there was only so much they could do.
Which was why we were improving the defences by raising a timber wall that would encircle the entire place. It was slow and back-breaking work, but the crews had been at it for the past week and had been making steady progress.
Until then.
“Can we help him?”
My direction was directed towards the white-sash, who didn’t take those sorrow-filled eyes off of the man as she tenderly stroked his head. There would be no calming him as he lay there, blood pooling beneath him and the heavy weight of the timber pole crushing him his pelvis and lower legs.
I didn’t know his name, though I recognised his face. Round and plump of cheek, ruddy from days spent out in the open air as he helped with the felling of timber for the sawmill. He had seemed like he knew what he was doing which made it unlikely that he would have missed the danger.
“Have you any pain relief?”
Again, the woman shook her head silently and I forced back a sigh. I pulled free my knife but a hand closed around my wrist and I looked back into the fierce gaze of a cultist, one of those assigned to protect me.
He shook his head, face hidden behind the mask but fury in his eyes, and stepped forward. The white-sash looked away as he crouched and stabbed his knife down straight through the dying man’s eye.
She didn’t speak to him, nor acknowledge his existence as she pushed herself to her feet and brushed the dirt and grass from her jeans. A silent bow of her head towards me and she moved away, seeking others who might have need of aid.
“What makes you think it was cut?”
The foreman, a burly fellow with a thick accent that announced his city of birth as Liverpool to all who met him, tore his gaze away from the dead worker and with a quick shake of his head, hurried over to the base of the pole.
“Here,” he said, pointing. “Can see that it was cut. Not enough to be noticeable to anyone passing but enough that when the next pole was fixed to it, the weight was too much and it was pulled right over.”
I looked over the base of the pole but I couldn’t tell much other than one side appeared to be torn and the other was a cleaner break. I followed the timber wall with my eyes and pursed my lips. Someone had managed to cut partway through the post without being noticed. That was more than a little alarming. Either we had a spy in the camp or an enemy brazen and skilled enough to do such a thing.
Which of those would be worse, I couldn’t say, but I wasn’t best pleased.
The foreman’s attention had drifted back to the dead worker and I wiped away my frown as he glanced back at me. Not quickly enough for his cheeks coloured as he wiped hands-on already dirty overalls.
“Been a while since someone died. Easy to forget that they will come back as one of those monsters.”
“For now.”
The vaccine would begin production just as soon as the medical researchers back on the island had everything that they needed to mass-produce it. The viral agent too.
It couldn’t come soon enough.
A quick order to one of the security personnel was enough to have him running off in search of Isaac. It was up to him to ensure the security of the village and I would have answers from him.
I didn’t have long to wait.
He hurried over, followed by a small group of his security people. They carried the newly made swords. Crude hunks of metal, sharpened along one edge and a good foot and a half in length. They were similar to the machetes I had seen in movies and I was certain that I wouldn’t want to be hit by one.
Each of those troopers had a crossbow slung over their shoulder with a quiver full of bolts hanging on their hip. Armour was the next step and production would begin on that as soon as possible. There was only so much that could be done each day and weapons would at least give us some chance against our multitude of enemies.
“What happened?”
He didn’t even have the decency to be out of breath. As large a man as he was, it was easy to forget that beneath his navy blue coveralls, he was just all muscle. His training with his troops was showing in his level of fitness that I had long since lost for myself.
“Someone tampered with the timber.” I nodded towards the fallen pole. “Cut partway through so that it fell when another was attached.”
“Bastards.” He gave a grunt as he looked at the dead man and cocked one brow at me. “Nothing else could be done?”
“No.”
“Damn.”
“How did this happen?”
“There are limits to what we can do with the number of people we have here.”
To his credit, he didn’t attempt to shirk the blame. He knew who was in charge of security for the village and he would accept the consequences. He would weather my anger and then he would expend a great deal of energy on making sure it didn’t happen again.
“What can we do about it then?”
“Let me send some people out into the surrounding area to look for anyone lurking out there.”
“No.”
I couldn’t get the image of the tortured soldier out of my head and I sure as hell wasn’t ready to have more people get ambushed.
“Then I need more people that are willing to stand watch on a night. I need patrols around the village borders and I need power so that we can get spotlights set up.”
All of which was reasonable enough if we weren’t in the middle of the apocalypse. It wasn’t as simple as just calling in more people or allocating extra resources. If more people came over from the island then we would need somewhere for them to live, food, water, and all the other necessities.
We would have to gather a great deal more wood to keep the fires burning on a night. More support personnel to provide meals, mend clothing, We would need bandages, salves, sleeping bags and tents for when they went out beyond the new walls we were building.
More generators, which would require more fuel to keep them running. The few we had were used to capacity as it was. There was a reason we lit candles on a night when in our homes. There was no spare power to keep the lights on.
Then there was the sewage. More people meant more waste. More latrines, more chance of infection spreading due to the fact that we had no real working plumbing or sewage system. That waste would need disposing of too and that was a whole other problem on its own.
“We can’t. Not right now, we haven’t the ca
pacity.”
“Then you know what you need to do.”
“No.”
I couldn’t even begin to consider that because I knew that I would have no choice but to give in and that would break me. Isaac watched me warily and wisely chose to change tack.
“Any progress with contacting them?”
He didn’t need to say who he meant, there was only one group we were trying damned hard to contact. So far, with little success.
“They haven’t responded to any attempts to contact them by radio. The groups we have been able to contact in their territory haven’t been willing to admit to the Riders that they have spoken to us.”
“Any sign of them on the satellite?”
Too much but I certainly wasn’t about to discuss it out in the open where anyone could hear. The very last thing I needed was to scare the workers into fleeing back to the island. Any chance of rebuilding society would crumble as the world beyond the island fell to complete anarchy.
“Do what you can to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
“Aye.”
I hesitated as I made to leave and looked back at him one last time.
“Speed up the training as much as you can too.”
“You think we’ll need them?”
I hoped that we wouldn’t, but I knew that conflict would be inevitable. The war had begun with the fall of the world and it was far from over. If I wanted a world where my children could grow up without fear of violence or the undead, then I would need to walk the path of war just that little bit longer.
Which likely meant that I would have to do that very thing that I least wanted to do and I would break inside.
But I’d do it anyway, because the fate of humanity was greater than me and what I wanted. But, who could blame me for holding back from doing that for as long as possible?
Isaac was waiting for an answer and I couldn’t let him see my doubts or my fear, so I set my mouth in a grim line and narrowed my eyes as I replied.
“Absolutely.”
Chapter 12
My leg swept out and she was down, hitting the hard-packed earth with a heavy thud. There were no tears, which pleased me. Instead, a fierce scowl settled on her face as she gripped the small wooden knife that I had carved for her and she glared up at me.
“Try again.”
Ice coated my voice and I tried to push it aside but there was something in her eyes that told me to be wary, that the man wasn’t needed. Not then. No, the killer needed to be in control, as some part of me instinctively saw the fledgling killer in her.
My daughter.
We both ignored the heavy sigh from behind us, and she pushed herself up, raising her knife as I had taught her.
“Dad.”
I didn’t need to look back to know that Gabriel would be seated beneath the tree, legs pulled up to his chest as he waited with the impatience of the very young. He had no interest in learning how to fight, how to kill.
“What is it?”
“Are we done yet?”
I smiled down at my ferocious daughter, eyebrow cocked in query and she shook her head firmly and gripped her knife all the tighter.
“Not just yet.”
“It’s boring. I want to play!”
Keeping a wary eye on my daughter, I turned so that I could see my son too. The light filtering through the branches above illuminated his face and I marvelled at his resemblance to Lily. But, more than that, he had her temperament, her compassion and empathy.
All things that it was clear Angelina lacked.
“This world is full of danger,” I said, choosing my words with care. “You will both face a different kind of danger and you will need to rely on one another.”
He was young, but there were no truly young people, not in the apocalypse. He had grown up knowing about the undead. He slept in a room that had a door with a lock that could be used from either side. To keep out the zombies, or for us to keep him in should he turn.
Guards followed him around, Sebastian Cho had taken him hostage and filled his head with the quasi-religious nonsense that Samuel had created. He had seen the families weeping over the losses they’d had, and heard the tales of the fall of the world.
He was young, but not really. So, when I told him there was danger, he understood that I wasn’t speaking false.
“You and mum will protect us.”
“We won’t always be here.”
His eyes filled with tears at that and Angelina shifted her weight, scowl deepening at the show of emotion.
“You will face dangers that you will need to fight, to defend not only yourself but those you love. Your sister will be able to protect you in ways that you will not when it comes to that.”
“How am I supposed to protect her?”
I glanced over at my daughter, smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. She would face a whole different kind of danger and one that couldn’t be faced with a knife in hand.
“She will need you to protect her from herself.” My voice was barely a whisper but it travelled clearly in the small clearing surrounded by trees. “She will need you to be her conscience, the calm hand that steadies her when she runs towards the precipice.”
Both children were looking at me and clearly not quite understanding. I shook my head and waved away their questioning looks as I laughed softly. They would understand in time and I would do all I could to ensure that Angelina did not struggle alone with that darkness she carried.
“Once more,” I said, turning back to her. “Attack.”
Angelina didn’t as she rushed straight in, knife held steadily before her. She noticed my kick coming and jumped over my sweep, slashing at my leg with the wooden knife. Her strike missed as I slipped quickly away, grinning.
She showed a great deal of promise, which was to be expected as she was my daughter after all. It wouldn’t be long at all before I could start making my moves with something close to my real speed.
In again, she darted, knife slashing as her face was fixed with fierce concentration. Once, twice, and once more. She was relentless in her desire to strike true and it was almost a shame when I took her legs out from beneath her.
Soft pants issued from her mouth as she pushed herself up from the muddy carpet of leaves. She reached for the knife that had fallen from her hand when she hit the ground and I laughed once more.
“You did well but it is time to finish now.”
No reply from Angelina but a delighted whoop from Gabriel. The more time I spent with my children the more I found myself enjoying that time. They were remarkably different from one another but unmistakably twins.
Their mannerisms were similar. The way they both cocked their head to the side when trying to figure something out. Or how they carried themselves, even though Gabriel would run rather than walk, and Angelina would rather stalk the grounds like a cat hunting its prey, their body language was much the same.
“When is mama back?” Gabriel asked, practically jumping up and down with his eagerness to get back to the more serious business of playing.
“She’ll be back for dinner,” I said, and paused, hairs rising on the back of my neck.
The copse of trees at the far end of the grounds that surrounded the house where Lily had made her home was not particularly large, but was dense. The branches of the trees were intertwined and the ground below was filled with long grass and bramble patches.
Small animals lived their lives, free of predators. Birds built nests in the trees, while mice and rabbits rustled the branches of the bushes. But not right then. All was silent and that was wrong.
“Dad?”
“Hush.” I ushered Gabriel behind me as I turned, scanning the undergrowth. “Angelina, come here.”
There were guards. Assigned to patrol the borders of the property, their one and only purpose to keep my family safe.
I reached for my knife and swore softly as I realised that I had left it behind at the house. There had been no nee
d to keep it with me and carrying it reminded me far too much about the killing I wasn’t able to do.
A rustling in the bushes to my right, then another to the left. Gabriel pulled himself closer to me, sensing the danger that was near, while my sweet and ferocious Angelina stood by my side, her wooden knife clenched tightly in her fist.
There were three of them, and they moved like warriors, every step carefully placed and heads moving constantly as they searched for threats. Two women and a man. All of them with the same hard stare from eyes devoid of anything resembling compassion.
Looks were exchanged and the lead woman grinned nastily, before brushing aside a loose lock of raven-black hair from her face. They all wore the same dark clothing that covered them entirely. Soft leather boots and gloves completed their outfits and they each had dirt smeared across their faces.
I cocked my head to the side as I watched them. That they were enemies was without question. Which group of enemies they belonged to was more of a mystery and one that was more than a little intriguing.
“Wasn’t supposed to be anyone here,” the moon-faced female said.
“They’ll be missed,” the leader said, not taking her eyes from me. “Plans already fucked, might as well just go now instead of waiting for night.”
“I’ll take the kids.” The hunger in the man’s eyes as he looked at my children ensured that he would die painfully. “You two kill him.”
“Wait!” the leader held up a hand, giving me a view of the long-bladed knife she held. “He’s not scared. Why haven’t you shouted for help?”
“Why would I?”
“You get that we’re going to kill you, yeah?”
I had kind of assumed that but there was no need for alarm.
“Who sent you?”
The leader smirked at that and flicked a glance to her companions.
“This the point where I’m supposed to monologue our plans to you while your guards come to your help?” She laughed then, a sound as empty of life as her eyes. “They won’t help you.”
Killing The Dead | Book 23 | Come The End Page 8
