by TW Brown
Cedric opened his mouth for a few seconds and then shut it. He sighed and then sat back. A smile split his face, and he began to laugh. Simon was becoming more confused by the second. Certainly this man did not think that Mrs. Raye was bluffing. And not only that, but he, Simon Wood, was not just some pushover to be disregarded.
“Mum, I think I can clear things up right here and put your mind at rest.”
Cedric hoisted his leg up onto the table and pulled up the hem enough so that he could reach inside his heavy boots. He produced a thin leather wallet and tossed it onto the table. Neither Simon nor Mrs. Raye moved at first, but eventually Mrs. Raye reached over and picked it up. She opened the flap and after only a few seconds, began to chuckle. She slid it over to Simon.
He gave the woman a confused frown before picking up the little billfold. Opening it, he saw the face of Cedric Black staring back at him from an identification card that proclaimed him to be Detective Inspector Sydney Brown of the Yorkshire Constabulary.
“I was working the region undercover for the past fourteen months,” Cedric—correction, Simon thought, Sydney, said.
After the laughter subsided, a thought came to Simon and he fixed the man with a harsh stare. “Why did you smash me on the head back then?”
“Actually, I did not know that you were a police officer, and you almost fit the description of one of the men in our dossier. I thought you might be the rival dealer that those bloody pricks were always on about.”
Simon sat back in his chair and felt the conflicting emotions coursing through him. To him, this was just another reason that they should have tried to reconcile things between Shadiyah and the others.
“Why couldn’t you just have told us that back at the tower? It might have saved Shadiyah,” Mrs. Raye said the words that Simon was thinking.
“Actually, I feel like I did a proper job of cocking that whole situation up. I must admit to being a right plonker when it comes to this whole…zombie situation. I still believed the agency line that this would all be under control within a few weeks. This was about to be my biggest arrest, and I was sure to be considered for Chief Inspector when it was all done. I would have been one of the youngest ever.”
The answer did nothing to make Simon feel any better. It also did nothing to improve his feelings for the man he knew as Cedric Black.
“So should we call you Cedric or Sydney?” Mrs. Raye asked.
“I think Cedric is best. That is how people know me here, and then there is little Annie. No sense in getting her confused.”
The next day, Simon had just returned from a long shift out in the sun working on the massive project that was the trench that would supposedly protect the village of Micklefield from the walking dead only to discover his cousin seated in the living room. Mrs. Raye was sipping tea with Geoff and Annie was on her stomach reading a book, a half-eaten sandwich on a plate beside her. There was no sign of Cedric which suited Simon just fine at the moment. He was still bothered by the fact that there might have been a real chance to save Shadiyah if certain things had been revealed.
Geoff set his cup down and greeted his cousin with a smile and then stepped back to give Simon a good look up and down.
Geoff gave Mrs. Raye a polite nod and then walked to the large living room window and looked outside. “Can I have a moment with my cousin, please?”
Once the room was cleared and the door shut, the vicar turned to Simon. His expression was grim, and he motioned for Simon to have a seat.
“Seems rather ominous,” Simon laughed nervously. He unconsciously rubbed the bite on his arm. Despite almost no trace of it still being able to be seen with the naked eye, he could (whether consciously or subconsciously) feel its lingering presence. Had the doctor decided that he was a risk?
“I still can’t believe you are here. Before we lost power, the news was terrible. London was gone, and the fires in Leeds…well, I don’t need to tell you.” Geoff continued to glance out the window.
“Surely you did not clear the room just to tell me that you are glad to see me,” Simon said after his cousin just remained staring out the window for an uncomfortably long period of time with his hands folded behind his back.
“You would be a welcome addition to the leadership of this community, Simon.” Geoff finally turned to face his cousin, lips pursed as he seemed to be considering what to say next.
“This is becoming a bit worrying,” Simon laughed uncomfortably.
“This…event...has brought out the best in some of our people. Unfortunately, it has also brought out the worst. When we lost the grid over two weeks ago, we had a gathering where I was asked to accept the role of authority here for the time being. Obviously the West Yorkshire Police are not making any trips out here from Garforth these days. This might seem hasty and sudden, but it would be nice if you might consider taking the helm here in that department.”
Simon laughed, crossing the small room to clasp his cousin’s hand. “I would be honored.” Geoff followed Simon to his room where a basin of water was waiting so that he could wash up a bit.
He almost blurted that both Mrs. Raye and Cedric would be better and more qualified candidates. Simon’s head spun at all this. He did not know what exactly he had expected in Micklefield, but it seemed as if the people had already come together and decided to take a very proactive approach on how to run their little town. It was highly irregular to say the least.
“Before you accept, you need to understand that the people here in Old Mick have already had a town meeting and made some choices that you may not feel comfortable enforcing.”
“Oh?” Simon was puzzled.
“These people were about to elect me as the chief constable just before you and your band arrived,” Geoff said with a sigh. “We’ve already had a murder here, and then we caught that group from New Micklefield trying to sneak into the primary school. Somebody has to administer justice and be a presence that helps bring everybody back together if we are going to survive. Also, this feud between Old and New Micklefield needs to end, and the best person to mediate that would be a neutral party.”
Simon knew well enough how Micklefield had divided into almost two separate villages. From his recollection, it had something to do with a proposed wind farm. The site would have been just north of the village and that was the reason the Old Micklefield residents hated it; they would be the ones who had to look at those eyesores for all eternity.
“Let’s start with the people caught in the school. Were they stealing text books?” Simon laughed, but sobered fast when his cousin’s expression darkened.
“That is where we decided to gather all the food and such that we collected from the houses of those we lost in those first days. We also managed to bring in a freight truck that was abandoned on the M1. The trailer was loaded with crated chickens, most likely bound for some farm, but that was a blessing as it is a supply of eggs as well as some of the meat you enjoy at evening meal. Won’t be making any trips to Morrisons Supermarket any time soon, and when we found that truck, you would have thought the Queen was paying a visit for all the fuss.”
“And you say there was a murder?” A few weeks ago, Simon would have been stunned. That was just not something you would expect in a sleepy English village like Micklefield.
“Once again, it had to do with food. We were going house to house, collecting everything once it was decided that we should pool all our resources and not just that of the deceased. Some bloke accused another of hiding food, and it turned into a nasty fight. Eleven people brawling in the streets like a bunch of football hooligans was the result. That is also why you might want to think carefully about accepting the post. There was a vote, and it was decided that anybody guilty of murder, rape, and even thievery would be executed.”
A knock at the door came and Mrs. Raye poked her head inside the room as Simon sat there with his mouth open in dumbstruck astonishment. “I hate to break up this family reunion, but some young man just arrived out
front and said something about a team of hunters returning with a delegation from New Micklefield?”
Geoff stood and gave the woman a polite nod of his head. He turned back to Simon. “So, what do you say?”
Simon shrugged. Really…how bad could it be?
Walking outside, Simon actually staggered back at what greeted him. A group of a few hundred people were gathered in the street. What he saw reflected in their faces was a mix of fear, anger, and desperation. At the front of the crowd were a group of five individuals (Cedric was among them which came as no surprise to Simon) outfitted much like the people who he had first encountered when they arrived just a few days prior. Bunched close together, and basically at knife point, were three people dressed like they were out for an afternoon bicycle ride. Each had a sheath on his hip, but had obviously been liberated of whatever weapon he was carrying.
“Before we accept the delegation from New Mick, I would like to introduce my cousin Simon Wood to those of you who may not have had the pleasure of meeting yet.” Geoff stepped to the edge of the small porch and raised his arms in the air to quiet the crowd. “He was a police officer in Leeds. I have asked him to step forward as our constable and be the voice of authority. Since we do not have the luxury of time these days, I would just ask for a show of hands as we vote. All in favor?”
Simon was more than a little surprised to see so many hands raise in the air. After all, he was a stranger for all intents and purposes. Even just a bit more surprising was to see Cedric’s hand in the air with the others; for some reason, he believed the man might balk at the idea. When the vote for those opposed came, he took a second to try and commit a few of those faces to memory.
“It looks like you are the new chief constable,” Geoff said over his shoulder.
Simon stepped forward and felt a chill settle in his heart as he watched the last few hands that had gone up in opposition of him taking the post slowly begin to lower. One of those who had voted against him was the town’s doctor that had seen him when he and the others first arrived. Dr. Kincaide’s eyes were locked on him and the man’s expression was grim.
“This is all fine, but we came to retrieve one of our people,” a man from the New Micklefield trio spoke up.
“Your man was caught trying to steal from our food stores,” somebody in the crowd yelled. This brought on supportive shouts of agreement along with shouts of “We hang thieves!” sounding off from the mob.
Geoff once again raised his hands to quiet the crowd. With what was almost a flourish, he ushered Simon forward to the front of the porch.
“Time to get to work, Constable,” Geoff whispered humorlessly.
9
Verdicts
Shadiyah spun to face the women and children who were now clustered in closely; each of them had a clear expression of pure horror on their faces. She stepped away from the carnage, her scimitar at her side with fresh blood still dripping from the blade.
“Why?” one of the women finally managed through her tears.
Shadiyah was struck dumb by this reaction. Of all the possibilities that she could envision this scene playing out in her mind, this one made no sense. She glanced over at the bodies of the men sprawled around the table where she had butchered them and then back to these curiously ungrateful women and children who were now looking at her as if she might be a demon from Hell.
“You are all free,” Shadiyah finally managed to say as she knelt to wipe the majority of the blood from her blade on a wet towel that was balled up on the concrete floor of this pool room.
“You killed our husbands,” one of the women managed to cry over the wailing of the children that only seemed to be growing in volume to the point where it hurt her ears.
Shadiyah looked up and then all around herself. When had she fallen? Somehow she was now sitting on the floor in a puddle of chlorinated water and fresh blood. Making her way to her feet, she took a step towards the women and children. She did not understand how she could have made such a mistake and she wanted to apologize.
However, when the entire group began to shriek and scream bloody murder, she halted. Over the sounds of crying, a new sound was beginning to make itself known; the steady pounding of the undead on the outer doors to this pool area were growing in volume and intensity. Shadiyah turned and ran for the stairs as one of the barricaded doors began to give way under the onslaught.
Just as she made the upper landing, the door buckled. She paused, thinking that perhaps this new development would cause the group to flee. She could help them get up onto the roof and maybe even guide them someplace a bit safer. Yet, even as the zombies began to climb and fall over the patio furniture and vending machines that had been shoved in place to help barricade the doors, the group simply huddled together and wailed.
She stopped again when she reached the doors that opened out to the balcony where she had first spied these people. Her mind tried to reassemble the scene and find where she had gone wrong, but the jaded eyes through which she viewed the world would not refocus.
As she exited, the sounds of the cries began to change to screams of pain. She closed the door on the echoes and climbed up onto the railing. Looking down, she noticed that many of the zombies that had been gathered outside were pouring in. If she wanted, she could probably lower herself down and jog away.
After a moment’s thought, she decided that she had no desire to wander deeper into what had once been the more populated areas of Austhorpe. She would cross back over the M1 and make her way along through the fields that lay between the road and Garforth. She knew well enough that, once she made it past the borough of Garforth, the tiny town of Micklefield lay just beyond.
As the sounds of the screaming faded, Shadiyah’s allowed her mind to drift away from the sad and unfortunate scene. She quickly isolated the feelings of guilt and stuffed them into a dark recess of her mind where they would wither and die.
Every so often, she would veer just slightly from her course and take down another of the walking dead. She took no notice of whether they were men or women; young or old. They were nothing more than part of the landscape that she passed through.
When she noticed that the sky was once again becoming dark, she shifted her focus and began searching for a place that would offer her safe shelter for the night. She was surprised when she happened upon what looked to be some sort of automobile junkyard. Several obviously defunct vehicles were crammed into a fenced in yard.
She climbed up a tree and gave the area a good examination. She did not see any signs of the undead shambling about. She shielded her eyes from any sort of glare and tried to discern if there might be survivors perhaps living in the small building that looked as if it housed a couple of apartments. However, she saw no signs of life or movement after several minutes of scanning the area.
At last, she crept out on the branch that extended over the junkyard and lowered herself to the point where she could let go and drop to the ground. She had already spied where she would sleep for the night. A large freight truck with no wheels sat jammed into a corner of the automobile graveyard. The cab looked to be large and intact. It was high enough up that she could probably see the majority of the open area as well as over a few of the rows of cars. She would climb in, get situated, drink some of her precious water, and then get some sleep.
Moving down the aisle of automobiles, all of them showing signs of having been in an accident to at least some degree, Shadiyah saw no indication of any zombies that were still mobile. The only body she did happen upon had most of its skull burst open and splattered on the ground, a huge sledge hammer with dried gore on the head solving any riddle that might have existed about what put this particular zombie down. The only odd thing about the rotting corpse was the signs of what looked to have been an animal that had worried at the mangled skull. Some of the larger pieces had obviously been dragged a few yards away from where the corpse rested.
For some odd reason, she felt incredibly tired all of a s
udden. Her eyelids felt like they weighed a ton, and she could not stop the tremble that had started in her sword hand no matter how hard she tried. Climbing into the front cab of the rusty freight truck, Shadiyah simply tossed her bag and pack on the floor, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. She was fast asleep when the strangled gurgle sounded just outside the door to the cab.
***
Simon sat across the table from the three residents from New Micklefield. The one in the middle, and apparently the one who was in charge of the delegation was red faced and his hands clenched and unclenched in a visible display of anger.
“This is barbaric,” the one on the right whispered.
So far, the individual seated to the left had not said a word. As far as Simon was concerned, it was just as well. There were only so many ways you could vehemently disagree with the news that one of your people was to be hanged for stealing.
“You are certainly all aware of what is happening in the world,” Simon said coolly.
In the past half hour, he had gone from not actually supporting the policy that he had been informally voted in to enforce, to wishing he had a couple of extra nooses. As it stood, he saw a very real chance that the man who had been doing most of the talking might end up finding himself detained if for no other reason than so that Simon could feel at least some satisfaction.
“While we might not be from the city, Officer Wood,” the man made the title sound more like an insult than an honor with his disdainful tone, “we do have at least a passing acquaintance with such things as reading and being able to understand what is said on the telly. What we believe to be true is our business.”
“Then you must at least realize that it seems unlikely for order as we were once accustomed to be reinstated any time soon.” Simon absently ran his thumb around a small nick in the butt of the handle of his mace which he was wearing on his hip.