Killing the Dead Season 3 Box Set | Books 13-18

by Murray, Richard

  I could take any one of them individually and likely all three at the same time if I could get across the two-metre gap in the boards. While the railings still remained on either side, suspended over the gap by the bolts holding those sections to the others, I wasn’t entirely certain I could clamber across them while fending off attack.

  A roar from behind settled the question for me and with just a quick look back over my shoulder, I tossed my knives across the gap. They landed on the boards with a heavy thunk and I gestured for Gregg and Isaac to do the same with their own.

  Briony, showing some common sense, had pulled the tattered hood of her coat up over her head, face lost in the deep shadows it created. A smart move as I didn’t want her particular state to be obvious as that could cost us any potential help those new people would offer.

  “That’s all of them?” the leader asked as the last knife landed at his feet.

  His companions were staring down at the small pile of knives with wide eyes and I flashed a quick grin as I nodded.

  “All we have. You going to let us across or are you waiting for the zombie to find us?”

  He made a curt gesture with one hand and the other two scurried across to the piled planks. They lifted one, easily long enough to fit across the gap and dropped it into place. It made a narrow and somewhat less than sturdy bridge.

  A second board followed the first and once more, the man gestured with his hand for us to come across. I shot a warning glance to my companions and went first, knowing that I would be able to take the spear gun from him without any real problems.

  I rolled my eyes as the spear-gun wielding man stopped me as soon as I reached his side. He gestured for his little minion to search me for weapons, which he did rather ineffectually. He missed the razor blade sewn into the secret pocket in the waistband of my jeans, along with the six-inch steel spike that was in yet another secret pocket inside my left sleeve and the throwing knife that sat in a sheath hanging in the centre of my back.

  Not that I was going to point out what he had missed, but it was nice to know I was facing idiots and not serious threats.

  Gregg came next, helping to guide the wounded Isaac. They faced an equally ineffectual pat down and more than one side-eyed glance at the wound.

  “It’s not a bloody bite!” Isaac snapped when the younger man looked nervously at it once more.

  Briony crossed the makeshift bridge next and as the younger man went to pat her down, I braced myself. Should he notice her otherness, I would have to act quickly. Fortunately, he appeared to be either short of sight or simple-minded as he gave her a quick and nervous pat down before stepping back.

  “Now that’s over,” I said, quietly conversational. “How about you pull in these planks and we find somewhere nice and warm where we can sit and talk?”

  “I’ll decide what we do!” the leader snapped back, and it took a great deal of willpower not to roll my eyes and take the spear-gun away from him.

  “As you wish. Please, by all means, tell us what we are to do.”

  His lips twisted as he looked at each of his companions in turn and his cheeks turned crimson as I held back a grin.

  “Gather up those bloody knives!” he snapped at his companions. “The rest of you follow me.”

  I ignored the icy wind that was blowing in off the sea, the dark waves surging as a storm began to brew. My focus was on the pier and the buildings that we passed as we walked its length.

  A café and another arcade, though that one smaller than the main building back where the pier connected to the mainland. A tiny coffee hut sat between the two and beyond them, some public toilets.

  Rising up, just behind, was a building replete with several large metal poles rising into the air. It opened at the rear to a ramp that led down into the water beside the pier. That then would be the RNLI station where we hoped to find a boat.

  At the far end, the pier opened up, spreading outwards into a kite-shaped area with a large building in the very centre and plenty of seating around the outside. Clearly, a place where tourists could sit and stare out over the waters, enjoying their visit.

  The building itself appeared to have been used for several different things. A bar at the rear with a stage and seating area for those attending the shows that were, judging from the faded posters, quite popular.

  For the front half, it had been used as an aquarium. A large painted sign proclaimed quite proudly that there were a whole host of varied and wondrous sea creatures inside. I didn’t believe for one moment that those sea creatures would still be there, not with hungry survivors seeking refuge on the pier.

  Our new friend, or potential captor, led us towards the door to the aquarium. It made sense since the walls of that part of the building were solid with little in the way of windows where light could escape and reveal their camp. Unlike the bar/stage area which was lined with tall, clear, windows all along the length.

  Clearly, the small group were not entirely inept. As was proven once more when we walked through the reception area of the aquarium and into the rear, which was surprisingly well lit.

  Lanterns, solar powered by the looks, sat on every surface, lighting the room. I guessed that they had a second lot of them that were outside, charging, while those inside were being used. They would then be swapped over when those inside began to lose their stored power.

  Another four people lounged around the area, between the large, empty, tanks. Blankets and sleeping bags lay all around, along with boxes of tinned food and bottled water. Fish, likely caught from the sea, were being cleaned over a tank of water towards the rear.

  The man cleaning them had skin darker than Greggs and a pleasant demeanour. A wide smile grew as he spotted us, and he pulled off the gloves he was wearing while cleaning the fish and came over towards us.

  “New guys! Wow, it’s been so long, man. How ya doin?”

  His accent was decidedly southern. A cross between cockney and Essex. It grated on my nerves immediately and reminded me just how much I despised it.

  “They come from the chopper?” a young woman asked.

  She wore glasses and had her ginger hair in a tight braid that she tugged on as she watched us, somewhat warily. Her skin was pale, and she wore more clothes than was required even for the cold. That suggested something to me that set my pulse to racing.

  “What chopper?”

  Another man, this one older with a thick beard and round face. He’d clearly been fat at one point and his wrinkled skin sagged. His jowls moving as he spoke.

  “Heard it earlier, mate,” the dark-skinned man said. “Archie saw it fly over the town.”

  “Perhaps introductions are in order,” the final man said. “I’m Steven, pleased to meet you.”

  He was dangerous.

  I couldn’t exactly say why that was the case, but I was sure of it. He was as slim as the others but as he moved across the floor, hand extended to shake, the hairs on the back of my neck rose up. He moved like a snake, all sinuous, smooth motions, eyes barely blinking.

  There was a darkness in them that I recognised, a need for violence, for death. He wasn’t quite like me, I was sure of that, but he wasn’t a nice man in any way. No matter how smooth his voice, how polite the smile he wore.

  No, he was dangerous indeed.

  “Archie’s the lad you met outside,” the man with the spear-gun said. “Millie too. I’m Alan and these are…”

  “Matthew, you can call me, Matt,” the dark-skinned man said.

  “Terry,” the remaining man offered timidly.

  “Sally,” the final member of the group offered.

  I stood in silence for a moment, and realising that I wasn’t about to speak, Gregg offered a brief introduction for each of us.

  “Now that’s out of the way, you mind if our friend sits down so I can check his wound?”

  “Nah, mate. Over here, there’s some space,” Matt said, hurrying to help.

  “Just the seven of you?” I asked, v
oice sounding too loud in the silence that followed as we watched the two men half carry Isaac across the room.

  “Yes. I’m afraid there’s just been us for quite some time now. To be honest, I wasn’t sure we’d ever meet anyone else, and-“

  “There’ll be time for that later,” Alan said, cutting off the older Terry. “For now, we need to know, are you a threat to us?”

  “If we are?” I asked with a wicked grin.

  “Then you can’t stay here, I’m afraid,” Steven said, bending at the waist as he tried to peer into Briony’s hood. “You’re a shy one, aren’t you?”

  “She is,” I said. “We’re no threat to you, we’re just passing through.”

  “We can offer you a place to stay for the night,” Alan said. “But little more than that, I’m afraid. Times are hard and while the town’s easier to search these days, there’s not much to be found.”

  “Why is it easier now?” Briony asked, hooded face turning towards the leader of the group.

  “Most of the zombies have died or buggered off somewhere else,” Matt called, from where he stood watching Gregg work. “Only had to deal with a couple the last time I went out.”

  “You might want to be careful,” Gregg suggested. He pulled back the bandage from Isaac’s leg and grimaced. “There’s a zombie out there now. Bloody helicopter dropped it off and it’s a nasty bastard.”

  “There was a helicopter then!” Terry exclaimed excitedly. “That means there’s people that are organised! I told you there would be-“

  “Yes, yes. Enough, you old fool,” Steven snarled.

  He hadn’t stopped trying to catch a glimpse of Briony and there was a hunger in his eyes that suggested I could kill him without breaking a promise.

  “Perhaps there’s a few things you can tell us about who you are and where you’re from,” Alan said, avoiding looking at Steven. That suggested there was not such a clear-cut hierarchy as I had suspected. “We’d love to hear what’s happened in the rest of the world. Anything you can tell us would be fantastic.”

  “You haven’t heard?” I asked, and the group turned to look at me as though I were a fool. “On the radio. I saw the antenna on the building by the toilets.”

  “Oh, that! No, we couldn’t get it to work. Why? What should we have heard?”

  “I’ll let Gregg tell you later,” I said with a sinking feeling. “You sure the radio doesn’t work? We could use it.”

  “You’re welcome to try,” Alan said. “if you think you can fix it.”

  I couldn’t, but Isaac could, which meant that he needed to survive. It was a wound to the leg which wouldn’t necessarily be fatal. There was the issue of infection of course and he was pretty much done when it came to a fight, but if he could get the radio working for us while we checked on the boat, he could still be useful.

  Of course, if necessary, I could always just have Briony bite him. That way he would be as undead as she was, and the wound would heal.

  “Why, might we ask, are you needing a radio?” Steven asked, leaning in slightly, towards me.

  A valid question. Judging by what we had just encountered, I was expecting stiff resistance in London and with just me, Gregg and Briony, we couldn’t make it. I was realist enough to know that and not too proud to ask Lily when her troops would be arriving.

  “Just want to reach out to some friends,” I said with a smile. “Just some friends.”

  Chapter 15

  The new group of survivors were more than a little cagey with us. It didn’t help that they seemed to be a little put out by the wound Isaac bore. There was much muttering and sideways glances at him as they couldn’t seem to shake the suspicion that he was infected or about to die.

  Understandable, of course. If he died, he would turn and then go after each of them. They would be foolish indeed not to be wary. But it wasn’t just that. There was something else at play and I wasn’t quite capable of figuring out what that would be.

  Lily would have been able to. I had no doubt about that. She’d have everyone pegged within a few minutes of meeting them. She would understand the subtle interplay between each of the people in a way that I never could.

  It was one of her many talents and one that I truly missed in such situations. As it was, I was forced to sit there beside a still somewhat fishy-smelling tank as I tried to figure it out for myself.

  Steven was a problem, I knew that straight away. The others seemed content to allow Briony her privacy with little more than raised glances, but he kept trying to see her face. When he asked questions, they were directed at her.

  I felt no particular urge to be protective towards her, but I couldn’t have him screwing things up by discovering her state. This meant that I had to spend an inordinate amount of time monitoring their interactions.

  Briony, in turn, seemed to understand the potential for problems and remained close to me. This gave the impression that we were together, which allowed the new people to assume that was why she was being so shy.

  “This helicopter,” Terry pressed for perhaps the seventh time in as many minutes. “What do you know about it?”

  “They aren’t bloody friendly,” Gregg replied.

  He’d finally satisfied himself with the patch job he’d done on Isaac’s leg and had settled close to the former mercenary so that he would be available should he be needed.

  “Dropped that zombie on us,” he added with a dark look. He trailed off as I glared at him but the damage was done.

  “Why would they drop a zombie?” Alan asked, interest piqued.

  “They are the ones that created the zombies,” I admitted, scowling at Gregg. “The new ones they are dropping seem to be a test of sorts.”

  “What do you mean a test?” Sally asked, in that timid manner of hers. It was almost like she was afraid to speak up too much as it could attract attention to her.

  That was telling and along with her apparent need to wear more layers of clothing than even the cold weather demanded, hiding every inch of her bare flesh, I suspected that five men and two women was not too pleasant for the women.

  “These new zombies are faster than even Reapers,” I said and noted their blank looks. “We’ve previously seen three types of zombie. Slow and stupid, Shamblers. Faster, more aggressive, Ferals and the Reapers, those that are way past looking human.”

  “Interesting names,” Steven said, somewhat snidely. “Who chose them?”

  I ignored him and continued, “the newest ones are like the Reapers, but have armoured plating bolted to their flesh. There’s very little in the way of vulnerable areas.”

  “Why would they create those?” Sally asked, tugging on her braid.

  “To eradicate any survivors,” I answered with a shrug of my shoulders. “Once all the survivors are dead, the zombies will die out and Genpact can leave their bunkers and claim the world as their own.”

  “Genpact?”

  “Bunkers?”

  I held back another sigh and explained, briefly, about Genpact. How they had architected the end of the world and hunkered down in bunkers to wait it out. I told them of our own fight with them and the island we called home.

  They were suitably impressed, and I could almost see them warming to us. We were suddenly no longer random survivors that might take their food, but their saviours, the people with the ability to take them away from the horrors of the past two years.

  “That’s quite a story,” Steven said. “If it is true, of course.”

  “It’s true,” Gregg said, voice taut with anger. “Everything Ryan just told you is the absolute truth.”

  Not that it mattered. If we couldn’t get the radio to work then we couldn’t do much about helping anyone. That zombie out in the town wasn’t going away and if we left the relative safety of the pier, then we would be in danger.

  Added to that was the fact that Genpact wouldn’t give up. They knew we were here, and I was pretty sure that the next helicopter they sent out would contain a squad of t
heir mercenaries instead of another zombie.

  As much as I hated to admit it, I needed Lily’s CDF and my own minions. Without them, our chances of getting through London were slim and actually defeating Genpact, well, I wouldn’t bet on those odds at all.

  “When can you try and fix this radio?” I asked Isaac, who growled a response.

  “I can try now, Clever Bastard. Not gonna sleep without pain meds anyway.”

  “Do so, then.”

  Gregg shot me a dark look but rose to his feet to help Isaac up, while on the other side, Matt did the same.

  The two men helped him walk as best he could, limping all the while. They headed back through the door we’d entered by and I tapped my leg idly as I stared at the other survivors. They seemed harmless enough, for the most part, but I still wasn’t quite ready to trust them.

  I glanced at the two girls, both of whom were making an effort to sit a little further away from everyone else without seeming to be isolating themselves.

  “What’s the deal here?” I asked into the silence. “Do you take it in turns or…”

  “What?” Alan looked confused for just a moment but then his cheeks heated as I nodded at the two women. “Here now!”

  “There’s a rota,” Steven said, with a conspiratorial smile. His eyes met mine and I suspected he saw a kinship of sorts. He was wrong. “It seemed like the best solution at the time.”

  “Best for you lot,” Millie snarled.

  “You were forced?” I asked, heartbeat quickening. I could kill them with the hidden weapons I had, I was sure of that.

  “Not forced, no,” Sally said, looking at the other woman. She pursed her lips and looked down at her lap. “We all need to contribute.”

  “Contribute? What does that mean?”

  “It means,” Steven said with that same snake-like smile. “That if you aren’t willing to go out and face the zombies while searching for food, or do any of the other dirty jobs, then you need to find another way to pay for your keep.”

  I glanced at the women once more but neither would meet my eyes. Not exactly forced then but not fully their choice. Everyone needed to contribute to survival, sure, but if your only choices were to go out and fight the zombies or pay for your keep on your back… well, that wasn’t truly a choice.