Killing The Dead | Book 21 | The Journey Home

by Murray, Richard

  “A family live on a farm near Mursley and there’s a group in Milton Keynes that have a compound now that the zombies have gone.”

  “So many!” Gregg said. “That’s a good thing, yeah?”

  “For the most part,” William said, sipping on his tea. “I’d avoid those in Milton Keynes if you have anything you want to hold on to. They won’t hurt you if they don’t need to, but they will take anything you might have with you.”

  “Surely there’s enough in the town for them,” Abigail said, eyes wide. “Why rob people?”

  “Been a hard few years, lass. Had a couple of years with poor harvests and a lot of places had been looted long before the town fell. Them that live there now have likely picked over the place a few times and there’s little left.”

  “Why not look further afield?” Gregg asked.

  “The Riders,” Becky said, and we all turned to look at her in surprise. She swiped a lock of wheat coloured hair from before her freckled face and shot a look of defiance at her grandfather. “They need to know!”

  “Aye, lass. I guess they do,” he said. William heaved a heavy sigh and seeing us watching him, started to speak. “There’s a group and we don’t know where they live, we just know they turn up now and then. A rough lot, I make sure my Becky hides when they come by if you get my meaning.”

  We did, even the naïve Abigail nodded her head, cheeks heating though whether from fear or anger, I could not say.

  “If they catch a traveller on the road, they’ll have their fun and likely take anything they want. The larger communities and families know to give them a tribute and they will leave them be.” His face was troubled as he added, “for the most part, anyway.”

  “Protection racket,” I said, smiling to myself. They were bad people and that meant they were mine to kill as I pleased. “I assume, from their name, that they have horses?”

  “Aye.”

  So, a farm somewhere where they could keep them. That didn’t narrow it down because the entire area was full of farmland, but it did help a little.

  “Why do people allow that?” Abigail asked. “Why not fight them?”

  “With what, lass?” William chuckled. “My homemade spear and Becky’s catapult? They would kill us and not spare a thought after.”

  “Surely the larger communities-“

  “No, lass. People tend to look after themselves these days. There’s little love lost for outsiders.”

  “What about the navy or the Dead?” Gregg asked, and I sucked in a breath as I cast a glare his way.

  “The who?”

  I could read an expression well enough to recognise confusion and it was clear from the looks on their faces that neither the old man nor his granddaughter were familiar with them.

  “From the island,” Gregg continued, looking at me for support. I shook my head silently. “There’s a bunch of survivors on the Isle of Mann. Navy types and a bunch of people who dress all in black and wear hoods… not ringing a bell?”

  “Why would they be wearing hoods?” William asked with a soft chuckle.

  Gregg, once again, looked at me. His mouth gaped and his eye was opened wide as he struggled with that. I could actually understand why, which was a novelty for me.

  After five years, either the Dead under the guidance of Samuel or Lily’s people should have crossed the entire country letting everyone know that they were there to help. While it was possible some smaller groups, like single families, could have been missed off, William had already mentioned four groups he was likely in contact with so for so many to have been missed raised a troubling thought.

  What was happening on the island?

  Chapter 8

  The small, single engine, Cessna dipped down low, barely skimming the waves as they approached the western coast of England. I watched, holding my breath, as a door on the side opened and three men leapt out into the frigid waters of the Irish Sea below.

  A small cheer rose from the watching technicians as those three men broke the surface and the plane began to lift. It would turn and head back home as those men swam for shore. I clapped Charlie on the shoulder, and she beamed up at me.

  “How long can you hold the drone there?”

  She checked the display on her terminal, head tilting as she worked the math. “About twenty minutes, no more than that if you want the drone to make it home.”

  Twenty minutes then to watch those men, trained by Isaac, swim to shore, and then head to the first of the fishing boats that had been abandoned by the cultists after they came ashore. I was just pleased that they hadn’t sunk them out of spite.

  Blackpool, Southport, Rhyl. They were all areas where the boats could be docked and had a number of communities in the area. I knew this because we had painstakingly mapped them out years before when we were trying to organise aid and support for survivors.

  At least one of them had tied up near the mouth of the River Leven in the Lake District and I couldn’t help that fearful feeling that they were headed to the island in Lake Windermere that we had once called home.

  Those we had left behind were still there and thriving. It would be something Sebastian would do, ordering people to one of the places that their beloved Lord Death had called home and making it their own.

  But I couldn’t dwell on that, there was far too much else to do. First and foremost was reclaiming those boats that had been taken so that we could return to fishing.

  “How are we on the boat building plan?” I asked, turning to look back at Cass.

  “We’ve identified a number of boatyards but are struggling with the supplies needed and, to be frank, the skills,” Cass said, glancing down at her tablet as her fingers tapped the screen. “As we re-establish contact with survivor groups, that is one of the skills we will be looking for.”

  “And how is that going?”

  I didn’t need to look at her to know what expression she was wearing, and my shoulders slumped a little. While the people of the island might have retained their faith in me, it was a different story on the mainland.

  For some time, we had been providing a number of communities with food and supplies. Especially in those early years after the bombs had fallen from the sky and made the world that much colder.

  Crops failed, the zombies were still a huge threat and people were struggling. Under my direction, we had sent aid to many communities as a show of faith, of friendship. My intention had been to slowly transfer the knowledge and teach the skills needed to make those communities self-sufficient.

  Which was what we were in the middle of when Sebastian Cho seized control and stopped all movement to and from the island.

  Many had died due to that. Refugees waiting to cross to the island with no hope. Some tried, on makeshift boats and rafts. Any that actually made it were dispatched by the cultists without any quarter given.

  Those communities that had been relying on us for so much, suffered too. Hope that had been growing for them died along with many of their community and their trust with it. I knew it would be difficult, but I was determined to get that trust back.

  “What’s next?” Charlie asked, not looking up from her terminal. “I mean, a parasite died! We’re gonna send people too, yeah?”

  A valid question and one that I had no real answer to. We had a scientist and a researcher, and some doctors too. All of whom had spent any free time they had working on a vaccine that would help end the zombie threat for good. All without success.

  To send them to the location in London would be a huge risk considering that was where some of Sebastian’s followers were headed. But I couldn’t deny the fact that a parasite had died, and we needed to know how. It had been a week since the last had died and the longer we waited, the less data we would be able to gather.

  “How are the other two that we know of?” I asked, Charlie. There was always the hope it was a natural causes thing and the others would follow in much the same manner. “We still have someone watching them I hope.”<
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  “Yeah, boss-lady. Don’t worry, we have them. No change in either, though the one in Liverpool is gaining in size.”

  “Gaining? How, the city should be empty of all life by now.”

  “I’m betting, it’s got its nasty little tentacles into the water,” Charlie said, tapping on her keyboard and bringing up a new image. “Yeah, I’m sure of it.”

  Both Cass and I stared at the screen, wondering what we were looking for but then I saw it and a soft exhalation left me, barely a whisper of a sigh.

  On the screen before us, the city of Liverpool covered the screen. Right in the centre of the image, was the crimson blob that was the parasite, with all of those long appendages spreading out from around it.

  They spread in all directions, twisting around cars, and pushing through doors and windows as they searched everywhere for any sign of life that they could feed on. I followed that twisted mass of limbs through the city streets until they came to the coast where they disappeared into the water.

  “Damn,” Cass said, and I nodded slowly, echoing her sentiment.

  “Liverpool is closer to us than I’d like,” I said, turning to look at Charlie. “What do you think are the chances it will stretch all the way to here?”

  The intelligent young engineer chewed on her lower lip as she considered that. There was just so much that we didn’t know about them and I knew I was asking a great deal of her, but I needed some kind of answer before the next council meeting in two days’ time.

  “We have no idea how long those limbs can get,” she said, eyes flicking towards the screen. “I mean, at some point it must struggle to control them, yeah?”

  Neither Cass nor I had an answer to that.

  “Considering the rate of growth and, I’m guessing here, how content it will be to feed in one area before expanding out. Six months? Maybe a year.”

  “What makes you say that?” Cass asked.

  “It needs energy to grow and controlling those limbs at such a distance is going to be hard, so catching food will be more difficult. I suspect that it will have a limited control and so the growth will slow a little.”

  “We need more data,” I said, staring at the screen.

  A cry sounded from my office across the room and I glanced back. Gabriel was giggling as one of the men Isaac had set to guard my children made a comical attempt to catch the ball my son had just thrown.

  Angelina didn’t look up from the book she was studying as she moved her little hand across the page, mouth sounding out the words as she read. The black-clad cultists standing close behind her had their hands on their knives and they stared at everyone suspiciously.

  Each of them wore the white armband with the black half of the yin-yang symbol in it, and they had removed the gloves from their left hands so that all could see the missing finger that denoted their loyalty to a man five years dead.

  “They’re fine,” Cass said, catching my worried look.

  “I know, it’s just…”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  She didn’t need to say anymore. They had been taken from me for over a year and I wasn’t willing to quite let them out of my sight. There wasn’t a lot of trust left in me and they were all I had left to remember him.

  “Are we doing the ceremony this year?” Charlie asked, and I turned my attention back to her.

  “Ceremony?”

  “Yeah, the one for…”

  I nodded, understanding. The ceremony where the survivors would gather, and I would stand before them all and read out the names of those who had died so that we could live all those years ago.

  It was painful and brought up memories I would rather not revisit, but it was also important for us to remember. Especially after Sebastian’s rule over the island. We needed to be reminded that there were those who would sacrifice all they had to keep us safe.

  “Yes,” I said, voice soft and bearing a tremble of pain that I could not hold back. “We will.”

  “Good.” Her expression was earnest as she met my stare with her own, her eyes full of compassion. “It’s important to a lot of people.”

  I clasped her shoulder and gave it a squeeze before turning away. The mission was underway, and Isaac’s men would retrieve the first boat. The plane would be used to repeat the tactic for any of the other boats that had been abandoned as the cultists fled.

  “While the plane is out, might as well have them take a flyover London and see if they can find a suitable landing place.”

  “Sure,” Cass said, making a note on her tablet. “I’ll update Isaac.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Any particular reason you aren’t going to tell him yourself?”

  I didn’t like the smile she wore, and I scowled in response. “No.”

  “He’s a good-looking man and he’s great with the kids.”

  “No,” I repeated. “Just, no. I’m not ready for that.”

  Cass looked around to check how close we were to the technicians and then stepped closer, lowering her voice.

  “It’s been five years.”

  “There’s no rule saying I need a partner. Between the children and my job, there’s not much time in the day for me, let alone for anyone else.” My lips twitched as I eyed her. “Not like you’re tearing up the dating scene.”

  “I’ve been a bit busy too,” she replied, primly. “My best friend was imprisoned by some prick who had taken over the island. Not like I had dating on my mind.”

  Satisfied that I had deflected that line of questioning, I turned the conversation to another topic, though from the glint in her eye I knew that she was aware of what I was doing and it wouldn’t be the end of it.

  “Any change in the sports centre?”

  “None. No one in, no one out and no movement that we’ve been able to see.”

  “We need to deal with that.”

  “The longer we wait, the more time Isaac has to train people.”

  Which was a valid point and with the dying out of the zombies, we would need to look into finding some weapons that would be more use against humans. The poignards we had been using were fine against the slow and stupid undead, but not so much against the living.

  “Okay, add that to my list of things to worry about. Anything else?”

  “One of the settlements we have been in contact with.”

  “Yes?”

  “They have limited power so it’s hard to do much speaking with them, but I’m pretty sure from what they’ve been describing, they have a Reaper nearby.”

  “A Reaper!” That was a surprise to hear. “I thought they’d all died out?”

  “Not all, apparently. They are asking for help.”

  That would be difficult to arrange as we had so few options available. Not like we could fly over an assault squad since there was nowhere to bloody land a plane and all our boats had been stolen.

  “Once the first boat is back, we can try and arrange something,” I said. “I’ll talk to Sebastian about getting together a team of hunters that he can spare. Where about are these survivors?”

  Cass glanced down at her tablet and tapped at the screen before looking up at me. “They’re in a village called Thornborough.”

  “Never heard of it, where is it?”

  “Somewhere between Buckingham and Milton Keynes.”

  “Great.” My geography wasn’t that great, but I did know enough to understand that put them in the middle of the country. It would take weeks of travel to reach them. “I’ll speak to Samuel. Ask them to hold on as best they can until we can reach them.”

  “I will.”

  If I were honest with myself, I didn’t think that we would be in time, but we would try. I would make sure of that. I had to at least try. I couldn’t help the burst of resentment for Sebastian Cho and his idiotic coup. If not for him, we would have likely had people all across the country as planned and we could have sent help.

  With a shake of my head, I squared my shoulders and shoved aside the guilt
and remorse for what could have been. All I could do was work with what I had, and I would do the best I could to help as many as possible and that was all I could do.

  I wouldn’t be able to help everyone, it just wasn’t possible.

  It still hurt though, and I couldn’t help but wish I had someone in the area who could help them if I couldn’t.

  Chapter 9

  Three days we stayed with William and Becky, much to my annoyance. They were personable enough and, apparently, eager for some company. Much to my surprise they didn’t try to poison us that first night or even imprison or trap us for some nefarious scheme.

  They were just decent people and utterly boring.

  Still, Gregg needed a few days to rest his feet and let the blisters start to heal, and for a little work each day in the extensive gardens behind the house, we were rewarded with a decent quantity of vegetables and fruit to take with us when we left.

  I had forgotten just how sweet apple plucked straight from the tree could be. In fact, carrots and potatoes, celery, turnip, and onion in a stew made from ingredients that did not come from a tin was a delight I had forgotten about.

  On an evening Gregg would ask questions and William would answer as they shared stories of survival during the apocalypse. Our more recent history had to be glossed over but we still learnt much about how others had been faring and it was not good.

  So, three days after we arrived, we left. Burdened down with fruit and vegetables and questions we knew we couldn’t find answers to, we set off along the road once more.

  At Williams insistence, we agreed to bypass Milton Keynes and instead headed west. The time added to our journey was minimal and we went slowly, taking the smaller country roads and crossing overgrown fields.

  Trees wreathed with ivy and surrounded by grass speckled with brightly coloured flowers were all we saw as we moved slowly east. There were fewer cars on the road and those we found had been looted, though we could not say how long ago.

  We spent our nights in abandoned homes, usually farmhouses, and took care each day to look for any sources of running water and potential food. On the fourth day of our journey we stopped beside a river and that night, we had fresh trout cooked over a low fire to feast upon.