Island of the Dead

by Aline Riva

  “It's okay, Vicki,” said Greg, “I'll just go in the office and look for the notes. You sit down and wait here, I won't be a minute...” The footsteps sounded closer now. The dead eyes of the creature reflected white and dull through the shadows as it gave a low snarl, hungering for blood.

  Chapter 7

  Greg entered the office and went over to a filing cabinet, guessing not much would be kept on Christian's computer system, as the internet had been down for several years now. He searched the cabinet, pulling out the first heavy metal drawer and running through files, then he closed it and tried the second and pulled out her folder. He stood there reading it for a short while, then a faint sound made him look over his shoulder, but he saw nothing but an empty desk behind him, so turned his attention back to Vicki's medical notes. Reading the words written in Christian's flowing ink had come as quite a shock:

  Patient suffers from post traumatic stress linked to the death of her sister Amy at sea and witnessing the death of Stacy by corpse attack, she blames herself for the attack and links it to the fact that she believed the corpse was harmless because it behaved in a docile manner around her. Due to lack of psychiatric training I'm limited in my ability to treat her, I have encouraged her to talk to those closest to her and have been giving suitable medication to calm her mood.

  It is my opinion that the patient could become a danger to herself if memories are triggered, but is certainly no danger to others and needs support and possible hospitalisation during extreme episodes. The patient is prone to heavy bouts of stress and paranoia and self harms by using hair pulling to alleviate symptoms. Obvious solutions to this have been discussed but the patient is improving on medication so cutting her hair is not (so far) necessary. I do not consider her to be suicidal at this time.

  “But you've got worse, Vicki...” he murmured as he closed the folder and put it back in the cabinet.

  Beneath the desk, the creature shifted forward, making a sideways movement and thumping the desk, a sound that was lost on Greg as he closed the cabinet heavily. Lillith shifted again, slipping forward just as Greg turned away and walked out of the room, leaving the door open as he went into the treatment room beyond as the creature looked on, her bloody, death white features set on the two living beings as hunger tugged at her urge to kill.

  “I read the notes,” Greg said, not wishing to share too much too soon, then as he pulled up a chair and sat beside Vicki. She had taken a seat at the consultation desk, on the other side of it the seat was empty. Greg had noticed that very strongly, guessing that maybe it always would be. He didn't know if the Raven Isle team had run into trouble but it was looking likely and with no boats left to go out and search, there was nothing to do but wait. But he wasn't ready to mourn the loss of his best friend until he knew for sure - Marc was trained to deal with heavy situations, so he still held hope that he would return. But right now Christian was absent and he only had the notes to refer to as he sat there looking at Vicki, feeling only too aware that he had no medical training and everything he was considering was a huge gamble...

  “Okay...” he began, speaking softly to her as he took hold of her hand, “I want you to tell me everything. I want you to think back and tell me what happened right from the start. While you're doing that, I'm going to have a look through the medicine cabinet and see what I can find.”

  She nodded. As soon as he had let go of her hand and got up, she was twisting her hair around her finger and tugging it again. He didn't bother to tell her to stop, guessing she would be stopping soon enough once she had no choice in the matter...

  “It all came back to me when Zodiac said his mother died in an accident. I thought, it wasn't an accident. She was killed by that corpse.. the one that followed me. The one that looked at me differently because I reminded it of the girl in the photo.”

  He had his back to her as he opened up the cabinet, checked labels on bottles, found a sedative and opened up the container, then he recalled the dose on her notes, tipped out two pills and grabbed a glass by the sink and filled it with water.

  “And that's why you thought Stacy was accusing you of killing her?”

  “Yes,” she replied quietly.

  Greg was still searching through the cupboards, then he turned away, snatching up the pills and the water. He walked over to Vicki and handed them to her.

  “Take the pills now,” he said.

  She looked up at him.

  “I only took one of these, not two...”

  “But you need to calm down. If you take two you can have a lie down and rest, then you can start taking one a day until Christian gets back. By then you might be feeling a lot better.”

  She paused for thought.

  “I know you're doing the right thing... When I woke up this morning, I thought there was a corpse next to the bed, about to attack me. But it was Zodiac...it was just your son...” she blinked away tears as Greg felt a spike of alarm at the thought of what could have happened if she had not snapped out of her hallucination.

  “And I thought the corpse you killed... the one that killed Stacy... was alive again, I thought it was in the woods. I was going to fetch a gun, I wanted to protect Zodiac.”

  Greg had been feeling apprehensive about his plan, but on hearing all she had just said, as he tensed and tried not to think of what might have happened if her actions had not gone unchecked, he looked intently at her.

  “Take the pills, Vicki.”

  “But I don't take two -”

  “Take them!” he said sharply as a cold look came to his eyes, it was a look she had never seen before and as he stood over her, she felt suddenly intimidated.

  “I don't want to...”

  “Listen,” he told her firmly, leaning closer as he placed his hand on the table and locked with her gaze, “I'm very fond of you. I'll even admit I'm starting to fall for you but this has to stop and we are stopping it today! Don't make me force you. I'm a gentleman but I'm no angel, I didn't get where I was in life back in the old days without being a total bastard sometimes - but I don't want to force you to take those pills. Just do it, please. Lets make this easy on both of us.”

  She looked down at the pills in her hand then took them quickly, swallowing down the water and placing the glass on the table.

  “Good girl,” Greg said as relief crept into his voice, “I really am trying to help you, Vicki. I need you to keep remembering that.”

  “I know that.”

  He leaned closer, ran his hand over her hair and noticed the patches where skin showed through red and tender and in one place, sore and bloody.

  “You stay there,” he said, “I have to go and find something. I just want you to promise that you trust me and understand I'm doing this to help you.”

  The pills were kicking in. She nodded.

  “I do understand, Greg.”

  “I'm glad you feel that way,” he said as he turned away, “I just hope you feel the same way afterwards...”

  “After what?” she wondered, but he left the room, giving no answer.

  While he was gone Vicki sat there in silence, then as her body began to feel limp and her eyes grew heavy she got up from the chair and went over to a bed in the corner of the room and sat down on it, taking this rest felt good but she didn't want to lie back and fall asleep yet. She pushed up the pillows and rested her back against them, sitting upright as her fears began to slide away and for the first time in a long while, she felt no sense of something terrible about to reach out to her. Then she saw a movement on the floor of the next room, looked through the doorway and her eyes widened in horror as she saw it beneath the desk in the office:

  Its long hair hung over its face, half its head was dented in and the flesh was split open. It raised its head and looked back at her with dead eyes as it slithered forward on arm stumps, teeth bared.

  Vicki screamed. As Greg came running back into the room, she pointed to the open doorway.

  “It's under the desk! One of those
things...” she was winding her hair around her finger and tugging so hard a clump came away in her hand.

  Greg looked to the open doorway, missing the creature entirely as it shifted back into shadow.

  “There's nothing there,” he said reassuringly, “I was in there five minutes ago...believe me, that room is empty.”

  She looked again, turning her head nervously. There was nothing but shadow under the desk.

  “Close that door, please close it, Greg!”

  “No,” he said, using a tone he might use when telling Zodiac he couldn't stay up for another hour because it was bedtime, “I'm leaving it open – just so you can see there's nothing there. You look tired. I think you'll be asleep soon. You need to rest.”

  She tugged at her hair again.

  “And before I leave you to rest,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “We need to do something about this hair pulling. I read your notes, I know it's been discussed before. I do care about you, Vicki.” he reminded her, “I want you to know I'm trying to help. You can't pull it if it's not there. And you won't imagine that corpse staring at your hair any more, either.”

  He raised his hand, showing her a small electric shaver.

  “I'm going to shave your head, please don't struggle.”

  “No!” she said in alarm as he switched on the shaver and a low buzzing filled the air. She weakly reached up to push him away but her body felt like lead and he pushed her hand away and swept her hair back and ran the razor firmly through the patchy blonde strands, as it fell away she started to sob but he continued to shave her head.

  “Please don't cry, this won't take long...you won't have to pull it any more... Remember, I'm helping you.”

  “I fucking hate you!” she sobbed.

  Greg gave no reply as he ran the shaver over the top of her head, then over the other side, and finally shaved off the thick blonde locks at the back of her head. He paused to brush away the hair that had fallen to her shoulders, then brushed the rest on to the floor. Vicki's eyes were tear stained and red and her head was barely covered by a tiny remainder of fair stubble.

  “I'm not finished yet, “ Greg told her, “I missed a few places... I'll turn it round and use the foil side and take it right off. Keep still. There's no point in struggling now.”

  As he turned his attention back to shaving her head completely bare, she sat there softly crying. He worked slowly and carefully, again going around the damaged area where her scalp had bled, as he tried not to think about how hard she was weeping.

  “I still love you,” he told her as he shaved more stubble from the back of her head.

  Her only reply was more sobbing.

  When he had finished, he fetched a towel and brushed down her neck and shoulders and then her clothing, then used it to sweep stray hair from the bed. She had stopped crying now as she looked down at the mass of hair on the polished floor. Greg gathered it up and went over to a waste disposal bin and dropped the hair inside it. Then he put the razor in the cupboard and went back over to the bed.

  “Your hair was lovely,” he told her honestly, “But if being without it stops you from hurting yourself, I'm glad it's gone. Now try and get some rest, have a sleep, Vicki.”

  “I want to go home,” she said tearfully.

  “No, I want you to rest here,” he replied, “Once you're properly on the meds and feeling okay, I'll let you come home. I'm trying my best but I'm not a doctor. I think Christian would have done this. I think I did the right thing – I hope so.”

  He paused to wipe tears from her cheeks, then he kissed her and she barely responded, he moved in to kiss her again but she turned her head away.

  “Get some sleep now,” he told her, and placed his hands on her shoulders and eased her down on to the pillows. As her bald head came into contact with the pillow, it was a sharp reminder of what he had just done and she turned on her side, away from him as her hand went up to her head and she kept it there, touching flesh instead of hair as she cried into the pillow quietly.

  “I'll be back to check on you later,” Greg told her, “I have to go and collect Zodiac now. Sleep well, Vicki.”

  Then he left the room and as she lay with her back to the open door, in the room beyond the creature writhed and slithered, slipping out from its hiding place as it set its sights on the warm blooded human weeping on the bed...

  On the Isle of Wolfsheer, the large fire in the middle of the field was burning. Flames roared and smoke rose skyward. There was quite a gathering now, as the sun hit its mid day peak. The people of the isle were gathered around the fire, dancing with each other, some were tumbling half drunk to the ground and instantly engaging in sex. All were naked.

  A sharp stick was poked through the cage, making the prisoners shift back. As Parsons moved, Christian was jammed against the back of the cage, his only view now being the cleaver that Parsons clutched tightly and held behind his back. Parsons was on his side on the stony ground, looking coldly into the eyes of Damson who squatted nude outside the bars, running the stick up and down the cage as she looked inside.

  “I bet you'll both look good enough to eat later when we get your clothes off.”

  Parsons gaze did not shift from her eyes.

  “Maybe not,” he replied, “Us island folk might just surprise you. Some of us are too tough to eat.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. As she did that she swayed. It suddenly registered that all of these people were spending the day drinking. If that included the guards too, who were now also naked and still carrying their weapons, it could increase their chances of escape. Parsons didn't know many men who could fire a shot and hit the target blind drunk...

  Christian raised his head, shifting slightly as his body ached from being stuck on the ground in the cramped cage.

  “Damson... I don't suppose I could join you out there? It looks like a fine celebration.”

  His words had been spoken out of desperation and any hopes he had of making a break for it were dashed as she laughed again and shook her head.

  “Sorry, Christian, we don't play with our food!”

  Then she got up and swayed again, now dancing to the beat of a drum as music began to play as she walked away.

  “It was worth a try,” Christian said.

  Parsons was looking through the bars, all the while focussing on the weight of the cleaver in his hand.

  “Not long to go now,” he murmured as determination set in his eyes and he made a silent vow not to give up, “It will be sundown in a few hours. As soon as that cage is unlocked, I'm up and fighting.”

  On the mainland, Clare and Emma had soon found out Alex had been true to his word. The house was solid and free from damp and even the furniture was intact. He had fed them well with tinned food from a cupboard that was well stocked and then they had gone upstairs, gratefully collapsing on to the beds in two dusty bedrooms. They had been sleeping for several hours, now it was mid afternoon and the sun was slowly dipping as it shone bright over fields of corn that swayed yellow in the breeze.

  Alex stood outside the house, leaning against the porch with his gun ready. He had considered sleep but often needed little of it because this crazy world kept him on red alert, so he had just watched and waited, partly wishing the old world was restored because looking out at the fields, there was not a hint of the carnage that lie beyond, nor of the creatures responsible for it.

  Then a rasping sound cut through the air and he looked left and right, seeing nothing but hearing another sound of the undead, then a moan, then a snarl and suddenly it was building together. The first of the rotting figures in rags stumbled out of the cornfield and he fired a shot, taking it out cleanly with a bullet to the head. But more of them were coming, their sounds growing louder. He turned to see corpses staggering up the pathway, they were heading in from the road and there were many of them...

  “Get up, we need to go!” he yelled, firing a volley of shots into the oncoming horde, then more into
the air to wake the sleeping women.

  Moments later Clare and Emma ran down the stairs, all trace of sleep wiped out by the gunshots and then the sounds of the horde as it filled the air. They reached the open door together and Clare let off a burst of fire, felling the first wave. But more were behind, blocking the route to the lorry.

  “We have to leave it!” Emma yelled, catching Clare's sleeve as she turned for the field and more creatures stumbled out. Emma fired off shots, then as Alex called to them they turned and ran, shooting as they made their way around the side of the house and over to the car. Alex was already in the driving seat, the women got in the back and he fired up the engine, setting off with a squeal of burning rubber as the tires spun on the driveway and the car shot forward, jolting and thudding as it sped away and hit every creature in its path. As they neared the road another corpse stumbled out, lunging for the vehicle and hitting the windscreen with a crack that sent spidery lines over the glass. They hit the road at top speed, turning sharply away from the on coming horde, but still the creature hung on.

  “Get down!” Emma cried, and let fly a burst of fire. Glass exploded into shards and peppered the corpse and it slid off the car, hitting the ground and then the wheels ran over it, lurching the stomachs of the occupants as if they had just rammed a speed bump at sixty miles an hour.

  Then the road was clear and Alex kept up the speed as they drove on and Clare and Emma shook glass from their hair and brushed shards from the seat. The car was littered with glass and the windscreen was shattered. Alex made a hard fist and punched through the remaining section of glass, the air rushed in and the blood that streaked the paintwork of the car shone in the sunlight as they sped on, putting a distance between the vehicle and the gathered horde.