Devouring The Dead (Book 1)

by Russ Watts

  “You okay to keep going, Cat?” said Jessica.

  “Yep.”

  “Benzo?” asked Jessica.

  “I’m not dead yet. We can’t hang around here anyway.”

  “I hope Brad isn’t following us,” said Rosa.

  “No way. I saw the zombies flooding into the church when we ran,” said Tom smiling. “He’s a dead man.”

  Caterina took off and they followed. The streets away from the church were mostly empty. They easily dodged the few dead that were present. As they ran past the houses and homes, the shops and garages, Tom saw no evidence of life. A few lights had been left on, but the curtains were open and the rooms were empty.

  The only noise was the sound of their own feet pounding the road and their laborious breathing. They ran straight down the middle of the road, preferring to be in the open where they could see their attackers. The pavements were dangerous, enclosed by fences and cars from which an assailant could easily spring out at the last moment.

  Tom’s head was spinning. His whole body hurt from the kicking Brad had given him and his head felt like it had been hit by a ten tonne hammer. As he ran, it began to sink in that Benzo was not going to make it. Like Parker before him, he had unwittingly fallen to the infection. How easy it was to succumb, so difficult to avoid. Tom wondered how long Benzo had. Freddy and Parker hadn’t lasted more than a few hours.

  He focused on the light in Caterina’s hand, bobbing up and down as she ran at the front of the group. She led them across a larger road where two ambulances had been left abandoned in the middle of the road. The back doors were open and Tom saw trails of blood glistening inside.

  He slipped in a bloody pile of entrails and fell to the ground. Hands felt their way under his arms, lifting him up.

  “Come on, mate, nearly there,” said Benzo.

  They ran, aching limbs crying out for rest. On this larger road, the houses had given way to shops, warehouses, florists, and butchers. There was still no sign of life in any of them. Up ahead, Caterina had stopped.

  “This...is...the...station,” she said between short gasps.

  Tom looked up at the station: monolithic, derelict, destroyed. The gates had been pulled down and there were bodies piled up in front of them. Dozens and dozens of dead stacked up ten feet high. There were six police cars in front of the station, three of them mounted on the pavement, but all of them with their doors open. The road was covered in dark pools of blood. Caterina was shocked to see the station looking so desolate and deserted, shocked at the carnage on its steps where she had walked so many times.

  “Can you find your way to the river?” asked Christina. She could hear the moaning and shuffling sounds in the distance. They were alone, but not for long.

  “I...I think so. Down there, under the railway bridge, there’s a path. It leads down to the Thames,” said Caterina composing herself.

  “Can we have two minutes, I’m shattered,” said Rosa. The metal lids weighed heavy on her arms and she put one down on the ground slowly, careful not to drop it in case the clattering noise drew attention to them.

  Jackson picked it up. “No, we have to keep going. We can rest later. Right now, there’s an army after us and it’s growing. We can’t afford to stop now.”

  “He’s right,” said Tom. He was on his knees, drawing in long breaths of fresh air. “Keep going,” he said getting to his feet.

  Caterina jogged off toward the bridge. The road continued up over the bridge, but they took a small set of steps leading down next to it. Tom felt the icy cold bricks as he brushed past them. Their solidity and familiarity somehow reassured him. On the other side of the steps was a chain link fence. Nothing moved in the yard beyond and they reached the bottom of the steps safely.

  Caterina led them along a footpath that flanked the river. They could smell the Thames now, its polluted churning water both enticing and repulsive at the same time. Tom watched as she switched her light off. There was no need for it now. The glowing moon gave them enough light to see by. The path ahead was clear and he could see a small pier jutting out into the river. The moon illuminated tall buildings on the southern side of the river, giant and foreboding, enormous repositories and gigantic depots standing guard over the river as they had done for years.

  “There,” said Caterina pointing to the boats.

  The footpath opened out and she slowed to a walking pace. There was a ticket office where you could buy day-tripper tickets and an advertising board outside offering river tours. There were only two boats still moored up. They swayed gently in the night, the water lapping at their hulls.

  “What now?” she said.

  Almost in a perfect row, the group of desperate survivors stood beside her looking at the boats. One was a public ferry, an open topped shuttle that could seat a hundred people; the other was a small sailing yacht, its mast tall and its sail down.

  “Search me,” said Jackson. “Anyone know how to sail?”

  There was a pitter patter of feet behind them and Tom saw movement in the shadows by the bridge.

  “They’re coming. So we’re going to have to learn, fast,” he said, and strode toward the yacht.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “This is impossible,” said Tom. “I have no idea what to do.”

  He was stood at the yacht’s controls, staring blankly at the buttons and levers in front of him.

  “You’re right, this is impossible,” said Jackson. “We need the keys.”

  “Fuck.”

  Tom and Jackson left the yacht and hopped back up onto the pier.

  “Any joy?” said Benzo, shivering.

  “No. We can’t start it,” said Jackson.

  “What about the other one then?” said Jessica. “We can’t stand here. I can hear something. There’s definitely something, or someone, coming this way.”

  “This isn’t going to work,” said Tom.

  “So we came all this way for nothing? We can’t give up now,” said Jessica.

  “That’s not what I mean. I’m not giving up. I thought the river would be the best way, the safest way, to the airport, but let’s face it, we don’t have a boat. We can’t swim.”

  “So you think we should go back to the road?”

  “Yeah, we made it this far, why not?”

  “That’s why not,” said Benzo. He pointed up at the bridge to a herd of the dead. Hundreds of dead faces were looking at them, hundreds of dead bodies clamouring over one another to find a way down. A few had found the steps and were only minutes away.

  “Any ideas, now’s the time,” said Tom feeling deflated. To have come so far, only to be stopped here, was more than frustrating; all that fighting and effort to meet a dead end.

  “Who says we need a big boat,” said Christina.

  “We don’t. As long as it floats, it’ll do,” said Tom.

  “There you go then.” She pointed to the passenger ferry where a lifeboat hung from the starboard side. The interior of the ferry was dark and the moonlight showed a hundred empty seats. It felt like they were looking at a spooky ghost ship.

  They ran onto the ferry and Jackson was first to the lifeboat. He jostled the chain that tethered it to the ferry. He rang his hands along the ropes and ties that bound it until he found the latch. He slipped the ropes out and the boat dangled above the water but refused to drop.

  “It’s hooked here, I can’t free it,” he said. Jackson pulled on the chain but it wouldn’t budge. “I can’t see what’s stopping it,” he grunted as he continued to pull on the chain.

  “Guys, they’re getting close,” said Rosa. The smell of death wafted over the water to her.

  “Caterina, get your light out will you?” said Tom.

  She took her phone out and turned the torch mode on, shining it on the small lifeboat.

  “Hold it here can you, on the hook?” asked Jackson.

  Tom steadied her hand and pinpointed the small arc of light onto the large hook that held the lifeboat to the ferry.r />
  “I’m going to shoot it,” Tom said. He aimed the gun at the crucial point where the jib met the chains that were holding the boat in the air.

  “Be careful, Tom,” said Jackson. “We’ve only one chance at this.”

  Tom aimed, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger. With their final bullet, he shot the hook and it sheared straight through. There was a flash of light as the bullet exploded, a cracking noise that whipped across the water and rebounded off the buildings, before the boat suddenly fell into the river below with a splash.

  “Everyone in, quick,” said Christina.

  Tom threw the gun into the black water. It was useless now. The gunshot seemed to alert the zombies to exactly where they should go, and Rosa saw the first few appear on the pier.

  “Hurry,” she said scrambling to the others. Benzo and Jessica were in the boat already. There was a rope ladder on the ferry’s deck, which Jackson had lowered over the side. Christina was lowering herself down the short distance into the lifeboat whilst Jessica helped her.

  “Go on, Rosa,” said Tom helping her over the side. She lay the bin lids down on the deck and swiftly slid down the rope ladder to take a position in the boat beside Jessica. Tom picked up the bin lids and tossed them down to Benzo.

  “We’re going to need them as paddles,” he said.

  Tom lowered himself down as the first zombie got up onto the ferry.

  “Hurry up, Jackson!” shouted Christina. He scrambled down and lowered himself over the side. As soon as he was in the lifeboat, Tom handed him one of the bin lids.

  “Use this as a paddle. Now let’s get the hell out of dodge.”

  Jackson took it and put his hand through the clasp. He looked up at the ferry and a zombie threw itself over the side toward them.

  “Look out!”

  Rosa screamed as Jackson raised the shield above his head. The zombie struck it and cartwheeled off into the water. Tom was trying to get them away from the ferry, which was now swarming with the dead. Jackson plunged the lid into the water and began pushing too. The lifeboat slowly crept away from the ferry, but it initially took them closer to the pier. They were sandwiched between the large ferry and the pier full of zombies.

  The zombies, unaware they could not walk on water, fell into the Thames, splashing the lifeboat as they fell in, and sank beneath the waves. The boat rocked from side to side as dozens of them fell in, making it difficult to navigate a way out of the tiny marina.

  Caterina shone her light up at the pier, revealing the horde above. Faces, twisted in agony, stared back at them. Hands and arms reached out uselessly, unable to reach Tom and the others. Without warning, a mangy cat sprang off the pier. The mobile phone’s light bounced off the cat’s eyes and it let out a hiss as it extended its claws. Caterina screamed and dropped her phone. It plopped into the water and sank immediately.

  As she recoiled from the flying feline, Benzo pushed her down and the cat landed on him, digging its talons into his bleeding arm. The cat scratched and tore at him as he tried to grab it. Its teeth ripped his fingers, nipping him as he tried to shove it away. Jessica and Rosa were cowering in the back of the craft, scared that should Benzo drop it, it would attack them next.

  “Benzo, get rid of it!” screamed Caterina.

  He held it over the side of the boat, but its claws were digging into him and he couldn’t shake it loose.

  “Hold it still, Benzo,” said Christina. She raised the candelabra once again and smashed the cat’s head in. Its skull broke in half and it whimpered, its tiny bones broken, yet still it clutched onto Benzo. Christina raised her arms again and smashed the candelabra down onto the cat until its face was nothing but a bloody pulp.

  Benzo pulled the cat’s claws out and let the body slide off the side of the boat into the water. It floated away on the current under the bridge. Caterina let out an audible sigh of relief as the dead cat disappeared.

  Tom and Jackson had steered them out into the middle of the river, away from the marina. They stopped paddling when they were clear of the ferry.

  “You all right, mate?” said Tom to Benzo.

  Benzo shrugged. Caterina sidled next to him and put her arms around him.

  “Thank you, Benzo, thank you,” she said. She took his quivering hands in hers and he lay back exhausted.

  Tom looked at Jackson and they ploughed on. Benzo knew what he was doing and there was nothing they could do to help him now. He had put himself in front of Caterina to save her. Tom was proud of his friend. He was a brave man he had known for only a few days. Jackson said nothing, but thought of the list in his back pocket. The names were dwindling. How many would be alive when the sun came up in the morning?

  The dustbin lids were not easy to lift in and out of the water. The lifeboat slewed through the Thames as though the river were full of tar and honey. The lids were heavy and Tom and Jackson did not have much strength left. They tried to keep the lifeboat in the middle of the Thames as much as possible, away from the river banks where anything might be hiding, lurking, or waiting. If they capsized, Tom doubted they would be able to get the boat back up again, much less survive the ice cold water.

  They pushed on as the river turned a corner and they came to another bridge. The river was so wide at this point that the bridge had a buttress in the middle and there was a small island, a concrete circle no more than six feet across where the buttress was reinforced.

  “We need to stop for a minute,” said Jackson to Tom. “Over there, see that island, stop there.”

  They splashed on until they reached the base of the bridge and the boat slopped against it, the rusty hull squeaking against the damp walls of the island as they drew up slowly.

  When the boat stopped, nobody spoke. The water lapped against the hull quietly until Rosa spoke.

  “What are we doing?” she said. Jessica put an arm around her. “We can’t stop.”

  “I know,” said Tom leaning back, “but we’re exhausted. I can’t go on. Not to mention it’s bloody dark and we don’t know where we’re heading.”

  “We could carry on a little farther, but we might miss the airport. I doubt if there’ll be a big sign in the water saying ‘Airport this way,’” said Jackson.

  “We need to wait for daylight. That was the original plan. Splashing around out here in the darkness is crazy,” said Tom.

  “Do you think it’s safe here?” said Christina. “I mean, surely we’re not going to spend the night here under this bridge are we?”

  “I suppose not, but what else can we do? You want to risk going ashore? Or finding another boat?” said Jackson.

  “I can get us to the airport,” said Caterina. “If I remember rightly, there’s one more bridge after this, then it’ll come up on our left hand side. Once we get to the airport, we’ll be okay. We can rest there and find a way out of the city. Maybe there’ll be rescue planes, doctors, police...I don’t want to spend the night in this boat when we’re so close.”

  “Fine, we’ll keep going. But when we get there, don’t expect them to roll out the red carpet. We’re going to have to take things slowly,” said Jackson plunging the bin lid back into the freezing water of the Thames.

  “Let me help,” said Jessica. She carefully clambered to the front of the boat and took the lid from Tom. “I’m not a helpless princess,” she said. “We can take it in turns if you like.”

  He looked at her, surprised.

  “Move out the way then.” Jessica gave him a prod and smiled. He snaked his way to the back next to Rosa.

  “She’s quite something,” Tom said to Rosa as Jessica plunged the lid into the water and began to sync her strokes with Jackson.

  “Yeah, she is,” said Rosa admiring Jessica in the moonlight.

  The small lifeboat was cramped but it felt safe. Out on the water, nothing could touch them; nothing could reach them. Sure enough, as Caterina had said, they eventually came to another bridge. Jackson was tiring and Christina took over from him as they pas
sed beneath its arches.

  “How’re you doing, Benzo?” said Jackson sitting down beside him.

  “Cold,” came Benzo’s weak reply.

  Jackson could hear Benzo’s teeth chattering. He took Benzo’s hand in his, grateful he could not see how pale and sickly his friend looked.

  “Just you hang in there, mate, you hear me? We’ll be at the airport soon. What do you say to a warm bed?”

  Benzo gripped Jackson’s hand. “I guess I’ll be with my family soon, eh? Shit, I didn’t think it would end like this.”

  Jackson could feel Benzo shivering and shaking but had nothing to offer him for warmth. Tom, Rosa, and Caterina, listened to the conversation.

  “Fuck, Benzo, it’s not going to end like this,” said Jackson. “We’re a team. Who’s to say at the airport, we’re not going to find an army compound full of doctors and nurses with a cure for this thing?”

  “Nurses, eh? Sounds good to me.” Benzo coughed and spluttered out the last few words.

  Jackson laughed and let his tears fall silently. The blackness of the night hid his wet face from Benzo and they sat on the swaying boat in silence for a while. Jackson knew it was unlikely they were going to find help, but he couldn’t let Benzo slip away like this.

  “Shit!” exclaimed Jessica suddenly. She splashed her numb hands around in the water. “I dropped it!”

  Tom jumped up and fished around in the cold water, but knew it was too late.

  “Sorry, I should’ve helped you out. You’re tired,” he said.

  “Shit, I’m sorry. Damn it!” Jessica struck the side of the boat.

  “Hey,” said Tom, “it’s fine. We’re almost there. Don’t worry. Go back to Rosa and Cat, I’m fine, I’ll carry on.”

  “But how? Without the paddle..?”

  “Jess,” he said taking her arm, “just let it go. Don’t worry.”

  She smacked the side of the boat in frustration once more and crawled back, past Benzo and Jackson, to Rosa. She felt Rosa reach for her hand in the darkness and pushed her away.

  “Leave me be,” Jessica said in a hushed voice.

  Rosa crossed her arms. She turned her back on Jessica and stretched out. The stars and moon shone above the buildings on the water’s edge. Rosa thought about Don and Angel. She wondered if Angel’s husband was still at home with their daughter, or if they were dead too. What of her own family? She tried to think where they might be now. Even if they were alive, surely they wouldn’t be at home. If the city was overrun by the infected, they would have been evacuated wouldn’t they? She mused where they might have been taken to: Oxford, Birmingham, another city somewhere further north perhaps? Scotland even?