Killing The Dead | Book 22 | Fury

by Murray, Richard

  Twenty feet high and made of steel welded together and reinforced with track rails from the railway line below. Razor wire covered the top of those walls, preventing anyone from climbing over. Those steel walls surrounded the homes and crossed over the two bridges before closing on the opposite banking.

  Another wall had been erected on the banking beside the houses, which meant the railway line itself was a narrow passage through which anyone trying to enter the community would need to pass.

  One of the tunnels had been sealed with bricks and cement, which also meant that there was only one way in and to reach the gate that led inside the walls, any attacking force would need to traverse that narrow corridor with the residents of that community throwing down all manner of nasty things at them.

  It was, without a doubt, an impressive fortress that had been built to keep both the undead and raiders alike outside while the community was safe inside.

  Was a shame that it hadn’t worked really.

  I leant forward, bracing myself against the slick grey tiles of the church roof. Pigeons, unbothered by my presence, huddled amongst the eaves and crenellations to keep out of the rain while I climbed ever higher up the church spire to get a better view.

  A few bodies lay on the rail tracks, blood pooling around them, though several had already begun to rise. The raiders, men and women dressed outlandishly in what I could only assume were human entrails, and with scars etched into their flesh, were moving amongst those zombies and attaching collars.

  It didn’t take me long to realise that the human entrails were providing a shield of sorts, hiding the raiders from the zombie's senses. As to why they were being collared and led away to be chained by the open gate, I could only guess.

  Black smoke hung over the community and I had to strain, even with Gregg’s binoculars, to see any real detail. What I did see had no effect on dampening my growing rage, and instead, only inflamed it.

  Children, few though there were, seemed to be of little use for the raiders. Small, charred bodies, were little more than food for the Reapers that squatted beside one of the buildings. The adults, meanwhile, were raped and tortured to death, before being collared and chained for when they rose from the dead.

  It appeared that the raider group had been gathering quite the number of walking corpses. Fodder to keep the Reapers in line while moving from community to community, and a shield against the weapons that may be raised in defence of those raiders.

  The Reapers would have led the way, resilient, fast and strong, with bone plating that would protect them from the worst of the attack. Following them, surrounded by the slower moving Shamblers, would have been the raiders.

  Grappling hooks had been thrown over the gates and the Reapers had gone up and over, falling on those waiting below. A few of the raiders would have followed and opened the gates, allowing the rest of the group entry.

  After that, it would not have taken long to secure the entire compound and then they could have their fun.

  Even for one such as myself, what they were doing was revolting and only fuelled my urge to destroy them all.

  Of course, considering the numbers, it was not likely I would be able to. The community before me must have had several hundred people living within its walls. Many of those were chained to stakes driven into the ground, a freshly risen army of the dead.

  The raiders danced amongst the fires, raising spears high and filling the air with the sound of their madness filled laughter. I ached to kill them, to slit open their bellies and wrap their own entrails around their necks before hoisting them to hang from the trees.

  I would not, could not, allow such monsters to roam freely about the world that my children, my love, lived in. No, I would destroy them, I would bring death to each and every one of them and they would know the meaning of fear.

  Which, admittedly, had worked a little too well with the Riders. Perhaps if I had scared them a little less, an army of them wouldn’t be marching towards the town right at that moment.

  Though that did allow for an amusing idea to take seed and I laughed as I began my climb back down from the spire.

  “Oh, God!” Gregg said, shaking his head even before I had a chance to say anything. “Mate, no, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Whatever it is that you’re planning.” His forehead creased as he sniffed at the air, nose wrinkling at the sickly-sweet scent of burning flesh. “Let’s just get back to the island, yeah?”

  “You would be okay just leaving such monsters to ravage these lands?”

  “Don’t do that, mate. You know that I don’t want to let them live to keep on hurting others, but we’re caught between two groups and we can’t beat either of them alone, let alone together.”

  “What if we didn’t need to?”

  “Huh?” he shut his eye as realisation washed over him and he gave a short bark of laughter. “Oh, fuck.”

  Abigail, looking as clueless as ever, watched him with some concern. Her seething dislike of me had faded somewhat after I had finally relented to going back to the island, but she was still not exactly a fan.

  “What does he mean?” she asked. “I don’t get it.”

  My mocking grin was all the reply I would give, and I glanced around at my Furies. Two, Three, Five, Seven and Eight. Five women who had been beaten and abused, who had gone to sleep each night wondering if the next day would be the one where they were finally killed.

  Their rage eclipsed my own and their eyes burned with fury for what they had seen as they watched the community burn. All the torments that had been visited upon them were as nothing to what these new raiders had done inside those walls and they wanted to unleash their fury on them.

  Emma, steadfastly loyal and obedient, like a puppy. She would obey whatever command I should give, and she would go into battle willingly, not caring whether she lived or died so long as she pleased me.

  She represented everything I had grown to hate about the cult Samuel had nurtured around me. I detested such obedience and the idea of returning and having to endure such behaviour all the time was less than appealing.

  Or at least it had been before I had found a renewed purpose.

  “He’s going to do something stupid and dangerous,” Gregg said, his one eye staring straight at me. “Something that will likely end up getting us all killed.”

  “No.” My smile held no mockery, not for him, not for my friend. “Just me.”

  “I still don’t understand, what is he going to do?”

  “Have a lot of fun,” I said, smile widening to a grin. “Tonight, we will bring death down upon them all.”

  Chapter 28

  My booted foot sent the first raider sprawling, his armour clattering against the rain-soaked pavement. I was already moving before his companion could react, my arm slipping around his neck as I pressed the knifepoint against his jugular.

  I couldn’t help but laugh aloud as the entire army seemed to notice my presence at the same time. Swords were drawn and crossbows levelled as I ducked a little further behind my human shield.

  “Hold!” came the shouted command, and I pulled the terrified captive a little closer to me as his companion regained his feet, spinning with a sword in hand and anger in his flushed cheeks. “Hold, damn you all!”

  The speaker was a muscular man, stern of face with a jutting jaw and deep-set eyes that were dark pits of hate in his scarred and pockmarked face. He wore the same armour as the rest of them, but his breastplate had a sigil etched into the steel, just over the right breast.

  I snickered as I realised it was supposed to be a symbol of rank but looked more like a squiggle than anything else. I recognised the mysticism of it and the need for symbols. I’d heard about it often enough from Samuel back when the cult first began.

  “Whoever you are, you must have great big balls between your legs?” he called, stepping forward, apart from the crowd of nervous-looking men and women. “What do you want?”


  “Are you in charge?” I didn’t recognise him, and he wasn’t wearing the ridiculous skull helmet that I had seen on their leader. “Or just another lackey?”

  “I’m who you can talk to for a few minutes before we cut you to pieces.” He made a show of looking around at the crowd of raiders with weapons ready. “Now, what do you want so bad that you’re willing to die for it?”

  “Who said I was going to die?”

  Scattered laughter from the crowd and the brute’s lips pressed together as he reached up and smoothed his thick brown moustache.

  “Funny man, huh? Bet you’re a laugh a minute around the campfire. We’ll see how funny you are after you’ve spent a few nights bleeding and weeping while the lads have a little fun.”

  I cocked my head, eyes narrowing as I gazed at him. There was no compassion in that dark stare and I knew then that if not the leader, he was a lieutenant of some kind and one who had actively participated, if not led, some of the more atrocious acts against those communities they terrorized.

  Before the night was done, I would kill him, I knew that too.

  “You bore me.” There was nothing but ice in my voice as the killer that I was came fully to the fore. “Go run and fetch your master before I take another pair of eyes to add to my collection.”

  His face darkened even further as he scowled at my mention of the eyes and a few of his companions realised just who I was at the same time. They shared nervous glances between themselves and looked to the brute, waiting for him to make the first move.

  Sheep, the lot of them. I’d thought that I couldn’t possibly despise them any more than I already did, but to know they were such simpering fools, slave to the stronger willed brutes that led them, I found a new layer of disgust for them.

  “That was you, huh?” He nodded slowly, eyes fixed on my face as though trying to commit it to memory. “Gonna hurt you bad for that.”

  “Doubtful.”

  Another flush of heat in his cheeks and I grinned, mockingly as I waved my free hand in a ‘shooing’ motion.

  “Go on, go fetch like the good mutt you are.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  There he was, that over-large man wearing the armour like the others, but with a helmet on his head that had the front of a human skull in place over the face. A soft tinge of crimson around the eye sockets of that skull almost had me laughing once more.

  “My Lord,” the brute said, bending slightly at the waist as he bowed. “This is-“

  “I know who he is.”

  Which was more than I could say. Something about the way he held himself had me thinking that he recognised me, and more than that, he was scared of me. I could practically feel his fear and that, coupled with the faux mysticism, the theatrics and the way his people behaved towards him had me convinced.

  The woman whose name I had already forgotten, back in a village that I cared little about, had told me that my enemy was once a former follower of mine. I’d not quite believed it then, but seeing him, the way he was watching me as though ready to bolt at any moment. It was undeniable. He knew me. More than that, he knew just what I could do.

  “Nobody likes a copycat,” I said, tone full of mockery as I watched him and was rewarded with a jerk of his head as he reacted in surprise.

  “You are not welcome here.”

  His voice was a deep baritone that matched the broad chest and arms as thick around as a normal man’s thighs. He was taller than his lieutenant, the brute, tall enough to stand out perhaps. But certainly not enough for me to remember him.

  “I go where I please.”

  “As you always have.”

  Yes, he definitely recognised me and really didn’t like me. I lifted my shoulders in a half-shrug that he probably couldn’t even see, covered as I was by the trembling form of the raider that I held close.

  “You have killed many of my people and maimed more than a few,” he continued. “For what reason other than your own dark nature?”

  “I need no reason other than for it to be my desire,” I replied. “It brought me pleasure, and that is all that matters. As you should well know.”

  “Then why show yourself now, here.” He raised his arms to gesture at the crowded road behind him and the small army of raiders. “When you are clearly unmatched.”

  My laughter couldn’t be contained and once again, there were more than a few unsettled faces and wavering of arms as they heard the cold disdain I held for them all in that laughter.

  “There’s a great many who believed as you do, and they are all dead now.”

  “Just give the order, My Lord,” Brute said, eyes shifting towards his leader. “We’ll gut him for you.”

  “Yes.” My smile was mocking. “Give the order.”

  It was slight, but it was there, a moment’s hesitation that spoke of indecision and his fear. There was a part of him that still held to Samuel’s teachings and that awe and belief in me that he had held all those years ago.

  Of course, the fact that I had caused such chaos to his little empire had likely done much to bolster the belief that I might truly be the personification of death that Samuel had always claimed that I was.

  “What do you want here?” he repeated. “Why do you plague me?”

  “You swore an oath and that is as binding now as it was when the words first crossed your lips.” I was leaning heavily into the belief that Samuel had drummed into him. All I could hope was that it held or, that at the very least he made his own people swear an oath to him. If he broke an oath, they would surely wonder why they should keep theirs. “Your obedience is required.”

  “How dare-“

  I cut off Brute with a single look before my gaze returned to the leader.

  “Keep your mutt under control else I will cut off his face and leave it at your feet.”

  Oh yes, the man definitely jerked back, almost taking a full step before he caught himself. Any doubt he might have held that I was not the one he was chasing was dispelled in an instant as I let him know just how close to him, I had been when I killed his men and flayed the skin from their skulls.

  He raised his hand before the brute beside him could speak once more and silence covered the street. Not a single person spoke, and several seemed to hold their breath as they waited for a response, for an order to kill me or stand down.

  His hands clenched into fists as he fought that instinctive need to obey me that had been learnt through blood and pain down in the old subway tunnels beneath Glasgow’s streets. He had been broken, physically and mentally as all those survivors had been back in the beginning. With a need for something, anything, to hold onto as a way to escape the hell of the apocalypse.

  That something had been me. Starving and beaten down, broken in mind and spirit, then trapped in the darkness with the rats and the zombies until they learned to kill. All the while, Samuel would fill their heads with nonsense about me, building the legend around me that I required to survive.

  It was a hard habit to break, even for one who hated me as much as the leader of the Riders did. Even one as dense to such things as I was could see it. He had attempted the same with his band of thugs, but it was a pale shadow of what he had been a part of with me and he knew it.

  Which likely meant that in some small part of his mind there was a voice telling him that perhaps Samuel was right, that I was the manifestation of death and that there was no way that he could kill me.

  I released my captive, pressing my free hand against his back and shoving him forward where his companion caught him before he fell. My smile fixed in place and my eyes on the leader of the Riders, I calmly sheathed my knife.

  The raiders waited, tense with anticipation as they awaited the command, but it didn’t come.

  “You know of the fortified community here?” I asked, breaking that silence, my tone calming as though we were two old friends chatting.

  “Yes.”

  Brute gaped at him and there was muttering from his p
eople, but no one dared move. I let my muscles relax, arms hanging limp at my sides so that all could see that I did not consider them a threat.

  “Another raider band has taken it.” Gasps then for many of the raiders had seen those defences themselves. “The people slaughtered and risen once more, they are preparing, building an army of the dead that they will lead against you.”

  I cocked my head to the side, lips turning up at the corners as I watched him, unconcerned for the weapons that were pointing directly towards me.

  “You are going to lead your band of… warriors, against them.”

  “Why would I?”

  “Because I desire it,” I said, voice dropping low and so very cold. “Because when dawn comes all who stand against me will be dead.”

  The threat was clear and none there could misunderstand it. The whole thing was laughable, for there I was, standing before a hundred or more armed raiders and I had just told them that they would do as I demanded or I would kill them, and they believed me.

  “This one final thing I shall do,” the leader said, anger lacing his tone. “Then I will be free of my oath and I will kill you.”

  “I’m sure you will try,” I said with a bark of laughter. “It might even amuse me enough that I will let you live.”

  Without waiting for him to respond, I simply turned and began walking away. At any moment I expected a crossbow bolt to be loosed directly at my back, but it didn’t strike, and I paused after a dozen steps and turned my head to look back over my shoulder at them.

  “Well, come on then.”

  Chapter 29

  They didn’t like it. I could practically feel their hatred as they stared at me, muttering amongst themselves. I had killed, tortured and maimed their friends and companions. There was not a single one of them that wouldn’t thrust their blade into my back given the choice.

  But they didn’t do it.

  I led them towards the walled community, an itch burning between my shoulder blades where I expected a crossbow bolt or a blade to land at any moment. It didn’t come.