Devouring The Dead (Book 1)

by Russ Watts

  They thought for a moment. “Can I say something?” asked Rosa quietly.

  “Absolutely,” said Jackson. She spoke with such a low voice he had to lean forward to hear her.

  “The airport may or may not be a way out of the city, I don’t know. But I don’t want to leave the city. I want to go home. I want to see my parents and know that they’re okay. Are we not better to go home and wait there? It won’t be long until the police or the army, or someone comes to help.”

  “Rosa, you could try and go home if you think you could make it through those streets,” said Jessica, “but I think you’d be better off with us. We saw the police and the army. They came, they fought, and they lost. There’s no one else coming.”

  “What do you mean? There must be.”

  “It’s true,” said Christina. “I saw an army helicopter crash. We came from the city and it was carnage.”

  “We saw the soldiers on the streets, Rosa,” said Benzo. “Even with their guns and tanks, they couldn’t stop them. The infected just kept coming and killed them all. In the end, they were overrun.”

  “It’s been three or four days now since this started,” said Jackson. “If there was any help coming, it would be here by now. We’re on our own. We have to fight for ourselves and each other. Rosa, I promise you that if you want to go home, you can, nobody will stop you. But you’ll be on your own.”

  He took her hand and grasped her small hands in his.

  “Come with us. I’m sorry about your friends, but the reality is, your parents are most likely dead. They may have escaped the city, they may be fine - but they won’t be at home. They won’t be waiting for you there. Come with us.”

  Rosa didn’t answer and looked around the silent group. They were looking at her expectantly, hopefully. She looked up at Jessica, into her deep brown eyes so full of hope. Jessica curled her hair around her ears as Rosa looked at her. Finally, she withdrew her hand from Jackson’s and she nodded.

  “I’ll come with you. The airport, eh? So you lot got a plan? Is one of you a pilot?”

  “No.” Benzo looked at Jackson. “Actually, do we have a plan?”

  “Not much of one. Look, it’s nearly dark out and it would be suicidal to be out there in the dark on foot. I say we bunk here tonight. It’s quite safe and secure, and apart from half a dozen zombies at the door, they don’t know we’re in here. I know we’re hungry, but at least we have fresh water. We have heat too. We can light all those candles.

  “In the morning, we’ll feel better, more refreshed. Getting to the airport, well I’m not sure how best we can do that. It’s not far, but it’s going to feel like it’s a hundred miles away once we get out on the road and we’re fighting those things off.”

  “What if we don’t go by road?” said Jessica.

  “You grown wings?” Benzo said sipping his water.

  “I mean we’d have to go by road initially, but the Thames goes right there. If we get to the river, then we can avoid all the zombies on the road and sail to the airport. It’s quicker and safer.”

  “So you’ve grown a boat then?” Benzo looked at her like she had gone mad. “Where are we going to get a boat from?”

  “Hang on, Benzo, I think it’s a good idea,” said Christina. “The river’s not far from here at all. Provided the zombies are thinned out, we can run right through them. Five minutes of healthy cardio and we’d be at the river. There’s a marina near Limehouse station. We don’t need a boat or a ship. Shit, a plank of wood will do. All we need is something that floats. I’d rather do that than go by road the whole way.”

  “Well the bus is out of action,” said Jackson. “I don’t fancy looking for another vehicle. There’s not much chance you’d find one out there before they’d be on you.”

  “Fair enough. But I’m not going out there unarmed,” said Benzo.

  “Me neither,” said Rosa. “If something comes for me, I want to be able to defend myself.”

  Jackson looked around the church. “No problem,” he said. “Look around. We can make plenty of weapons from here. There are some crosses on the walls - they look heavy, like they’re made from oak. Those candlesticks over there are thick and solid; they’ll drive through a dead body with enough weight behind them.”

  “These bibles aren’t bad either,” said Jessica picking one up, tossing it from one hand to the other. “They’re leather, hard, dense, and easy to hold. Smash someone in the face with these and they’re not getting up in a hurry.”

  “What about holy water?” said Benzo.

  Everyone looked at him before bursting out in laughter.

  “Kidding guys, kidding!” he said laughing.

  “What’s going on?” said Caterina. She had been woken by the voices and came to see what they were talking about. Jessica was holding a bible. “Not having a prayer meeting without me, are you?”

  “How’re you feeling?” said Christina.

  “Better, thanks.”

  “Right, well if you guys are all right, I’m going to see Tom,” said Jackson. “He’s keeping a look out from the top of the steeple and he’ll be getting cold. I should go and...”

  “No, it’s all right, I’ll go,” said Benzo. “Maybe you can check on Reggie, he’s been out like a light since we got here.”

  “Sure. Just head out back and up the stairs. Be quiet though, we don’t want any uninvited guests gate-crashing our party.”

  Benzo walked off leaving the others to prepare. Jessica and Rosa began searching for anything they could use as weapons. Christina filled Caterina in with the plan for the next day and Jackson strolled over to Reggie to check on him.

  * * * *

  “Benzo!” Tom was surprised when the door opened. He had been expecting Jackson, if anyone, to come back up. “Good to see you, mate.”

  They embraced and Benzo took in the scene. The fires above the rooftops mingled with the dying embers of the sunlight and the city was bathed in orange.

  “Anything to report?” Benzo asked Tom.

  “Not much. Nothing else has come this way. I haven’t seen anything; no planes, no helicopters, no cars, nothing - just the dead.”

  “Can’t see much,” said Benzo looking over the parapet. “Are there many of them down there?”

  “Not too many. The few that followed us from the park and a few more that were drawn by the crash. They’re all gathered by the main doors or the bus though. There are some in the church grounds dotted around, but nothing major. Nothing like before.”

  “Well that’s something I suppose.”

  “Benzo I was meaning to ask you. On the bus, did you see Angel? Was she..?”

  “She didn’t make it, mate. Look, what’s done is done, we need to forget about it and focus on tomorrow. I’m kind of looking forward to it in a way.”

  “Oh, yeah?” asked Tom.

  “Well, just getting out of here. I’m sick of living on scraps. I’m sick of stinking and wearing these dirty clothes I’ve been wearing for the last three days. I just want to sleep in a bed. I’m sick of not being in control of my own life. You know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I do. These clothes could walk around on their own.”

  “You are pretty ripe, mate.”

  Tom laughed, but Benzo could tell it was out of politeness. “Tom, there’s water downstairs, you need to relax. It’s safe here, okay? It’s safe. You don’t need to worry about it.”

  “I guess. It’s just hard to switch off. If Rosa hadn’t rescued us, then her friends would still be alive and I keep thinking...”

  “That’s your problem, Tom, you keep thinking! Listen, everything is taken care of. Tomorrow, we’re going to get to the airport, the girls are gathering weapons and there’s nothing else to do, so stop beating yourself up. You’re not responsible for us. Shit, a few days ago, you didn’t even know us.”

  “I could do with some water. I’m parched. Maybe I’ll go down for a bit.” Tom rubbed his eyes. He was sure that if he put his head down, he w
ould sleep like a rock.

  “I’ll stay up here until it’s too dark to see anything and then I’ll come down. There’s not much point being up here if we can’t see anything anyway,” said Benzo.

  Tom walked toward the door. “Don’t stay too long, mate. Say, you said the girls were getting weapons?”

  “Yeah, Jessica, and Rosa, the new chick.”

  “Did they say anything about me?” asked Tom.

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, I just wondered if Jessica had said, like, um...”

  “Oh, I see,” said Benzo. “Yeah, man, I get it. She’s cute. Look, she hasn’t said anything about you to me. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “It’s nothing,” said Tom, thankful the dark was hiding his blushing cheeks. “See you soon, mate.”

  Tom went into the stairwell closing the door behind him.

  * * * *

  “Feel this,” said Jessica, handing Rosa a golden candelabra. Its base was so thick Rosa struggled to hold it in her hands. She admired the ornate carvings that had been etched into it from the base to the tip.

  “You could do some damage with this,” said Rosa handing it back to Jessica.

  “I intend to.” Jessica kept hold of it as they continued walking around the western side of the church. The stained glass windows were dark now and the church was mostly lit from the candles burning near the nave. Rosa took a cross down from the wall.

  “No good,” said Jessica.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too small. By the time you’ve stuck someone with it, they’ll be all over you. No, put it back, we’ll find something bigger and better.”

  Rosa replaced the cross on the wall carefully. “Well, they do say that bigger is better.”

  Jessica looked curiously at Rosa but couldn’t see her expression in the dim light. “Some do.”

  “You believe in all this?” asked Rosa as they came across another painting. There were angels surrounding a baby in a crib. Tumultuous clouds blossomed in the sky and the sleeping child was bathed in a light from above, so bright it was almost white.

  “No. You?”

  “Nah, my mum and dad do. Did. Not me though, always seemed a bit like fantasy to me.”

  “It’s the rules I couldn’t abide. You shouldn’t live your life by a doctrine, especially a man made one. I don’t just mean Christianity, but all of them. They’re just invented by humans to control us if you ask me.”

  Suddenly Jessica realised Rosa was weeping. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Jessica embraced her.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just the whole church thing. It reminds me of my parents. I began thinking about how they must’ve died. How my dad probably died trying to protect my mum. He would do anything for her.”

  Jessica took hold of Rosa by the shoulders. “Well, stop. Thinking like that won’t help you.”

  Jessica rummaged in her pockets for a tissue but found none. She pulled her sleeve down and used the end to wipe Rosa’s tears.

  “I don’t know how you stay so...together,” said Rosa as they embraced once more. Jessica held onto her. She hadn’t realised how much she craved physical touch, the reassurance of another human being, the compassion and empathy borne out of being so close to another person.

  “I have to,” Jessica whispered in Rosa’s ear. They drew apart slowly, and Jessica let her hair brush Rosa’s cheek. She felt Rosa’s hand caress the back of her neck and Jessica didn’t want to let go. It had been so long.

  In the flickering candlelight, Jessica kissed Rosa on the cheek. She drew breath and kissed her on the lips, at first gently, then more passionately. Jessica pulled Rosa toward her, feeling Rosa’s slender frame pressed against hers. At first, Rosa reciprocated the kiss, sweet, yet salty, tainted by her tears. When Jessica began kissing her more insistently, she pushed her away.

  “No, no, it’s not right,” Rosa said.

  “I’m sorry,” said Jessica. Shadows danced across her frowning face and she thought of Brie. What was she doing? “You’re right, I was just...I thought...”

  “You thought wrong. I was just caught up in the moment. You shouldn’t take advantage of me,” Rosa turned away to face the three angels.

  Jessica’s heart was racing. “Sorry, I’ll leave you alone. I didn’t mean anything. I should check on Reggie anyway.”

  Rosa heard Jessica walk away. She clutched the bible she was carrying to her chest. Thoughts raced through her mind blocking out reality, until she heard Jessica call out.

  “Rosa, I’m sorry, but can you come here. I can’t find Reggie.”

  * * * *

  Reggie had been lying on the cushions near the altar, sleeping, until Jackson had knelt down beside him. Reggie’s face was cut badly and the wounds were not healing. Blood still seeped from the gashes on his forehead and cheeks. Jackson put his fingers to Reggie’s neck; his pulse was fine.

  “Reggie.” Jackson gently shook him but he didn’t wake. Jackson frowned. Maybe Reggie had been hurt in the crash worse than he had let on.

  “Reggie, mate, wake up,” he said shaking him rougher. Reggie could not be woken and as Jackson shook him, he rolled over, his shirt opening at the neck exposing his neck. Jackson saw the white fungal growth on Reggie’s chest that was spreading up his neck and recoiled.

  “How the hell..?” Then Jackson remembered the bird. They had been attacked when they’d left the conference centre and Jackson had been persuaded it was nothing. Reggie had convinced him it was just scared. It wasn’t. The pigeon had been infected, just like the rat that had bitten Freddy.

  Jackson took a step back. If he told the others, they would panic. They needed the rest and the sanctuary the church offered, at least for tonight. But if he did nothing, how long would it be before Reggie turned? He couldn’t risk that. He looked around the church and caught Jessica’s eye. She gave him a wave and a smile and he smiled back. She and Rosa were stood by a huge painting and Jessica was clutching a huge candelabra.

  Jackson decided he would move Reggie to the kitchen. If he dragged him in there quietly, he could barricade the door. If he turned in the night, he would hear nothing and hopefully stay quiet. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t turn for a while and they could escape safely.

  Making sure nobody was watching, Jackson took hold of Reggie’s arms and slowly pulled him off the cushions onto the hard stone floor. Bending low, he dragged the unconscious Reggie into the storeroom. Once he had gotten him over the threshold, he closed the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. He had gotten Reggie out unnoticed. It would be easier to explain to the others what was going on without Reggie being there. His presence would be unwelcome now. Any infection would be very unwelcome when they thought they had finally found a place to rest.

  Jackson opened the door to the kitchen. It was dark in there now, the faint sunlight unable to penetrate through the curtains. A figure was slumped, resting against the cupboards, a gun in its hands.

  “Hey, buddy,” said the figure, raising the gun and pointing it straight at Jackson. A shiver ran down Jackson’s spine and he froze.

  “Brad?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jessica jumped, startled as the vestry door burst open and Jackson walked through with his hands on his head.

  “Shit you made me jump, Jackson. Hey is Reggie with you? I was...”

  Jessica stopped as Jackson said nothing and was followed out of the doorway by a man holding a gun to Jackson’s head. Jessica’s jaw dropped open as she recognised Brad.

  “Holy shit.” She put her hand to her mouth. Brad’s hair was matted with blood and he was caked with dirt. He grinned as he pushed Jackson forward.

  “Jessica, good to see you, I thought my fucking days were over. Man, I am glad to see you.”

  He waved the gun at her and motioned for her to sit. She sat on the nearest pew and Jackson sat down beside her. He dropped his hands to his lap.

  “Tut, tut, Jackson. Back on your head, please, where I can see ‘
em. You too, Jess.”

  “What the hell is going on, Brad?” She stood up to confront him and he slapped her.

  “Sit the fuck down, bitch! Hands on your head! I won’t tell you again.”

  She retook her seat with the sting of Brad’s hand still fresh on her cheek.

  “You, out of the shadows. Get over here.” Brad was pointing the gun at Rosa who stepped out from behind a column. She obeyed the stranger and sat next to Jessica. She followed suit and put her hands on her head. Rosa looked at Jessica questioningly, but Jessica just shook her head.

  “Christina, Cat, don’t think I can’t see you back there. Move it up here, now.”

  Christina stepped into the aisle. “Brad, whatever you’re doing, you don’t need to do this. We thought you were dead.”

  Brad sighed. “Bitch, I don’t give a fuck what you think or what you thought. You and Cat get up here now, or I’ll shoot you in the face. Understand? It really makes no difference to me whether you’re alive or dead. I would prefer to save the ammo if possible though.”

  “Come on, Cat, it’ll be okay.” Christina and Caterina slowly walked to the front of the church and sat opposite the others. Brad stood in the middle as if facing the congregation.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...hang on, we’re missing one at least. Where’s Tommy boy?”

  The door creaked behind him and Brad whirled around. Tom strode into the church, surprised to see everyone sat on the front row with their hands on their heads. He was even more surprised to see Brad holding a gun over them.

  “Hi, buddy, perfect timing, take a seat would you?”

  Tom was so shocked he didn’t move. Brad had died in the bus. He had been at the front with Don. This couldn’t be him.

  The figure that looked and sounded so remarkably like Brad, walked over to Tom and he brought the butt of the gun down on Tom’s face, smashing his nose. Tom fell to the floor, blood gushing out over the stone floor.

  “Stop it!” screamed Jessica. Jackson stood up.

  Brad kept the gun trained on them whilst he dragged Tom over to the altar.