Killing The Dead 9 (Season 2 | Book 3): Family Matters

by Richard Murray

  “You guys are weird,” Georgia said. She brushed an errant strand of blonde hair from her face and leaned into the room. “Should I bother telling your other friends?”

  “Probably get the same response.” I smiled at her and noted the way her gaze lingered on Ryan as she spoke. “We’ll assess the situation in the morning.”

  “Do as you will,” she said she whirled around and left the room as abruptly as she’d come.

  I had the distinct impression that she’d expected more from us, and perhaps especially from Ryan. My gaze fell to him and my smile was genuine, if a little sad. In the morning he would face his father and his accuser, Caleb. Being under siege by the undead was likely going to be more pleasant than that meeting.

  My head sank back down to the pillow and I closed my eyes, listening to the heartbeat of the castle. The voices had risen in volume and the thud of feet as people ran to and fro was easily audible. Just another day in the zombie apocalypse.

  ****

  “What is this?” Gregg asked as he poked at the sludge in his bowl with one finger.

  “It’s porridge, eat it,” Cass said with a smirk. “You’ll need to keep your energy up.”

  His cheeks reddened as her eyes flicked from him to the sandy-haired, fresh-faced young man beside him, who just grinned.

  I looked around the room as my friends continued to chat and joke with each other. We were in what had once been a tea room that had been co-opted into a communal eating area for the Sanctuary.

  A reasonably sized space, it could hold thirty people at any one time, though at that moment, we were the only ones who seemed to have any kind of appetite. The rest of the castles residents were either in their own living areas or gathered in groups around the castle, talking worriedly.

  Ryan had carried me, despite my protests that I wanted to try and walk, and we’d met the rest of our friends along with the two younger people who had arrived in the car the day before.

  Charlie, a pretty young woman with an irreverent sense of humour had been carried in with as much grace as anyone could have while no doubt feeling truly helpless. She’d grinned though and made a quip, settling into an easy camaraderie with the rest of us.

  The young man who carried her, introduced as Reece, alternated his attention between his friend and Gregg. More than once, I caught a secretive smile shared between them and from the absolute look of happiness that Gregg carried, I wanted to cheer. He’d been so lonely for so long that I was glad he’d found someone, no matter if it was just a case of them both being the only two gay men each of them knew.

  Pat sat beside Cass, his arm around her shoulder as he pressed her to eat her own porridge and his own. Determined to ensure she get the lion's share of the food ration and hovering around her like a protective mother hen.

  Jinx had taken one look at the grey sludge that was supposed to be porridge and turned her head away. Ryan on the other hand, ate mechanically, as though he gained no real pleasure from the meal but just considered it to be fuel for the day. A not unhealthy way of looking at things I supposed, as I spooned some of the tasteless mush from my own bowl.

  “Anyone been to the wall yet?” Cass asked. I didn’t know if it was the pregnancy or the joy of finding her brother alive, but she looked radiant and as happy as anyone could be in the midst of a crisis.

  “After breakfast,” Gregg said. “Can’t be bothered seeing how screwed we are before I’ve eaten.”

  “I gotta say dude,” Charlie added. “I think we were safer back at the hotel.”

  “More than likely,” he replied with a grin.

  “What about you?” I asked Ryan. He looked at me and a shiver ran through me at the darkness that lay behind his eyes as a slow smile formed.

  “I believe I have other matters to attend to this morning.”

  “Speaking of…” Cass said as she inclined her head towards the door.

  Becky walked in with Gabriel's hand gripped firmly in her own. She looked around the room and with a grimace, settled on the rest of us before she headed our way.

  “Morning folks,” she said brightly and tugged on Gabe's arm. He grunted something that wasn’t really audible and looked everywhere but at his brother.

  “Want to join us?” Gregg asked, oblivious to the tension.

  “Perhaps not the best idea sweetie,” Becky said. “We’re only here because Bryan said he wanted to talk to us.”

  The corner of Ryans' mouth turned up slightly and I had the distinct impression he knew everyone was suddenly doing their best not to look directly at him and didn’t care. I reached out to touch his leg beneath the table and his eyes flicked towards me.

  “You’re all here,” Bryan said as he strode through the door. The poor man looked exhausted, hair dishevelled and clothing the same as he’d been wearing the day before. “Good, we can get this over with.”

  Caleb bore an expression of anger that wasn’t diminished in any way by the large bruise that covered the left side of his face. His cheek was swollen and he stared daggers at Ryan who nonchalantly ignored him as he continued to eat his porridge. His free hand though, reached down to touch mine beneath the table.

  “We have a problem,” Bryan said and I wondered at the restraint Caleb was showing. It wasn’t a good sign.

  Becky and Gabe took a seat as far from us as they could while the rest of us stopped what we were doing and waited with as much patience as we could for the older man to speak. I squeezed Ryan’s hand, hidden from the others beneath the table and he smiled in a way that said he’d behave.

  Despite his seeming reassurance, I desperately wanted to catch a glimpse of his eyes, to see if the man I loved or the Killer lurked behind them.

  “Last night, the undead arrived in numbers we’ve not seen since the very start of this whole nightmare,” Bryan began. “They’ve crowded onto the bridge across the moat and are pushing against the gates.”

  “You think they’ll hold?” I asked and he nodded.

  “For some time at least. The problem is the others.”

  “Others?”

  “Ferals,” Cass said with a deep sigh and the older man nodded.

  “Yes, Ferals. That’s what you call them.” He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers as he squeezed his eyes shut. His skin had a grey pallor to it and I wondered if he were trying to do too much alone. While I was in no state to stand and fight, I could help take some of the weight from his shoulders.

  “They’re out there,” he continued, letting his arms fall to his sides and looking at each of us in turn. “Growling and moaning at the others, moving them into position while they run around the walls.”

  “Looking for weakness, a way in,” I whispered though the sound carried in the still silence of the room.

  “We can’t fight them,” Bryan said. “We can try to defend ourselves, but we aren’t used to the violence of doing what is needed like…”

  “Like we are,” Pat said, his voice a growl and a glower on his face.

  “Yes, like you,” Bryan said and studiously avoided looking at his son. “We need you to help us, tell us what to do. How to survive this with our bodies and souls intact.”

  “What about him?” Ryan spoke for the first time as he nodded at the large man behind his father who had yet to take his eyes from Ryan.

  “Caleb has agreed…”

  “Nae like I had much choice.”

  “Never the less, you did agree,” Bryan admonished before turning back to us. “That he and his people will help defeat these undead.”

  “And after that?” Ryan asked, that thin smile still firmly in place, unperturbed by the other man's hateful glare.

  “After that, there’ll be a reckoning between us,” Caleb growled. “You and me, we’ll have words.”

  “You’ve given him permission to kill me have you father?” Ryan asked as the older man looked away. I squeezed his hand and he gripped mine back, tight. He was holding himself under complete c
ontrol but it was hard for him.

  “Aye, he won’t stop me,” Caleb said. “After this, you and me will settle things.”

  “So you kill me and you get your revenge,” Ryan mused. “Sounds fun.”

  “I’ll wipe that smug smile off your face and piss on your corpse,” Caleb growled, his face reddening.

  “Good luck with that,” Ryan said as he reached down to gently touch Jinx on the top of her head. She glanced up at him once before settling down beside him, eyes fixed on Caleb.

  “Will you help us?” Bryan asked. I could hear the strain in his voice and realized just how hard it must have been for him to have agreed to let the other man seek his revenge. No matter the outcome, Ryan dying or surviving by killing the other man, Bryan would have lost his son.

  “Of course we will,” I said before anyone else could speak. “Gather anyone who is willing to fight and then we can see what weapons we can find.”

  Bryan nodded and without a word, spun on his heel and walked from the tea room, stiff-backed and refusing to look at his son. Caleb gave one last look of disgust for Ryan and followed. I looked around my group of friends and struggled to form a smile.

  “I think, we’ll be leaving here once the zombies are gone.”

  “To continue our journey or back home?” Pat asked with a worried glance to his partner. I knew he hoped the navy would have facilities where she could safely have her baby.

  “That depends on Becky,” I said and turned to her. “What do you want to do? This journey north was at your insistence.”

  Becky straightened in her seat and tapped her fingers on the table before her. She raised her chin and her eyes met mine as she slowly nodded. “We continue,” she said. “I’ve already discussed this with Gabe, he’s coming too.”

  “Aye, that I am wee lass,” Gabriel said and for the first time looked at his brother. “That going to be a problem?”

  “Only if you make it one,” Ryan replied with a wide grin that sent a shiver through me.

  Chapter 20 – Ryan

  The morning air was cool against my face as I stood atop the watch tower and surveyed the gathered undead horde. That now familiar stench was overpowering and as I leaned out precariously over the parapet, I caught sight of the gates, smeared with bodily fluids and bits of flesh from the undead crushed against them.

  “Careful,” Lily cautioned and I glanced back at her and smiled.

  She looked pale and very fragile there, huddled beside the wall. Her coat was tight around her and her arms hugged her body. The same cool wind I so appreciated, caught at her hair and blew it across her face. Even injured as she were, I couldn’t deny her beauty or the effect she had on me that no one else ever had.

  “I hardly intend to end my days falling from a castle's tower,” I said. “A little too medieval a death for my liking.”

  “Even so, be careful.”

  “As you command,” I said and fixed a mischievous grin in place as I crossed to her and lifted her effortlessly. “Come stand beside me and give me a reason not to fall.”

  “Charmer.”

  My laughter rang out, a fitting counterpoint to the ravenous moans of the undead but as I let Lily down beside the parapet and looked over, my grin melted away. She sensed my shift in mood, as she usually did, and put one arm around me.

  “What do you see?” she asked.

  “The possibility of our deaths,” I replied absently and she stiffened.

  That wooden bridge of aged oak that crossed the moat, was hidden from view beneath the press of scores of the undead. They filled every inch of it and more pressed them from behind as though through sheer weight of numbers they could force their way through the gates.

  Beyond them, hundreds more had spilled out to either side of the road. Carefully avoiding the water’s edge, but staring our way, moving further outwards until they had almost filled the banks on both the eastern and western sides of the castle. The only place they hadn’t yet fully covered was the southern banking.

  Nipping at their heels, pushing and shoving the Shamblers into place, were the Ferals. In even greater numbers than I had anticipated, they roamed the edges of the crowd to ensure all were doing as they should.

  I had the uncanny impression that the Shamblers were intended to be cannon fodder. Used to force a way in and take the brunt of any attack before the more agile Ferals would swoop in to feast. It was a show of cunning that I did not appreciate from them.

  At my insistence, the western watch tower that sat beside the gates was cleared. With enough of a threat beyond the walls, I had no intention to present my back to any enemy from within. This did mean that the eastern tower was a little more crowded with people watching the massed undead.

  “What do you think we should do?” Lily asked and I shrugged.

  “If you were in full health, I would suggest we wait until dark and cross the moat. We could escape into the southern woods and loop around to continue our journey.”

  “Okay, well what should we do that doesn’t include leaving everyone here to die?”

  I felt her body tremble and knew it wasn’t from fear. She was barely into her course of treatment and while the fever seemed to be almost gone, she was far from well. My arm tightened around her waist, though I was careful to avoid putting pressure on her wound.

  “To be honest,” I said slowly. “I’m not sure.”

  “That comes as a surprise.”

  “Does it really? I’m not a soldier, nor a general. I’m a killer who is ill-suited to planning the defence of a place such as this.”

  “You might not be a general,” she said and I heard the smile behind her words. “I do believe you have the best chance of coming up with a plan that will work though. Trust your instincts.”

  If she only knew what my instincts were screaming at me to do, she wouldn’t suggest such a thing. Realistically, I had little idea of what to do next other than open the gates and kill as many as I could.

  Which might not be a bad idea, some part of my mind seemed to be insisting. I glanced down at the gathered undead once more before crossing to the opposite side of the tower, Lily taking faltering steps to keep up with me, and looked down into the courtyard.

  Cass and Gregg were sorting a long line of people into three groups. Those who would be patently unsuitable for fighting, those who were willing to fight and able and those who were able, but refused. I would speak with that latter group and let them know in no uncertain terms that they would fight the undead and risk death or face definite death from me.

  Pat was inside the main building, rummaging through the storerooms of the museum, looking for anything vaguely resembling a weapon. My father had gone with him to help and enlisted a few others too.

  In a patch of sunlight near the half-ruined southern wall, I could just about see Charlie. She was seated on the floor with her back against the wall and her drone on her lap. The solar array she had put together to charge the battery was opened up beside her soaking up the sunlight.

  Slowly, almost imperceptibly an idea was starting to form and I began to hum quietly to myself. Everything around me fading away as I began to visualize what could possibly work.

  “You have an idea,” Lily said and I nodded, only half listening. “I knew you would.

  “It will be dangerous,” I said and she shrugged then winced as she pulled on the stitches in her stomach. “The world is dangerous anyway. Tell me what you plan.”

  I grinned and my eyes met hers as I began to speak. Her eyes widened as she listened and her face lost the little colour it had, but she didn’t once suggest an alternative.

  ****

  “Are you mad?” Bryan said as he stared at me with mouth hanging open like some landed fish.

  “Your other option is to sit here under siege and slowly starve,” I pointed out cheerfully. “Or you could try and make a run for it.”

  “He’s not serious is he?” My father asked Lily who shrugged apologetically.

 
“It might work,” she said. I frowned at her as she seemed to struggle with staying upright in the chair.

  We’d gathered our friends and a few others in the tea room as I told them my plan. It was risky, I didn’t deny that and people would die. But better a few than all.

  I looked across to Pat who smiled back grimly. He had cobwebs on his clothing and stood with thick arms crossed over his chest. “What did you find?”

  “Museum had a few bits,” he said.

  “Such as?”

  “Couple of spears,” he said, counting off each item on his fingers. “Iron points and long wooden poles. They seemed sturdy enough. Half a dozen shields, a full set of iron armour that I don’t think will fit many people and would be heavy as hell. There was also a big sword…”

  ”Claymore,” my father added and Pat nodded.

  “Aye, that’s what it was called. Almost as tall as I am.”

  “So no bloody use for us then,” Gregg muttered.

  “Hand axe and a mace. There was a crossbow with one bolt and no string.” Pat finished. “That’s pretty much it.”

  “That’s all?” I asked. It was a shame, I’d hoped for more.

  “Was only a small museum,” Pat said. “Plenty of other stuff but not much use to us. Some old furniture that we could break up to make clubs.”

  “That furniture is centuries old,” Bryan spluttered.

  “Seems sturdy still,” Pat replied and even I had to smile as he failed to grasp my father's meaning.

  “That is hardly the point young man,” Bryan snapped. “The items in that museum are cultural artifacts and belong to the people, to the future.”

  “There won’t be a future if we don’t survive,” I said to him before I nodded to Pat. “Break up what you need to and make as many weapons as you can.”

  “We’ve got everyone divided into groups,” Cass said and Gregg nodded beside her. His face was twisted into a scowl that was not like him at all.

  “What are the numbers?” I asked.

  “Including Caleb's people and ourselves,” Cass began and paused before taking a deep breath. “Twenty-three ready and willing to fight.”