Among The Dead (Book 3): Dwell In Unity

by Colley, Ryan

  “Screw God,” I muttered to myself.

  “Hey, don’t take his name in vain,” Keith said in reply. I momentarily glared at Keith before starting the engine.

  “So,” Kirsty finally said after the long silence. “What’s the plan?”

  “Find the convoy,” I said after a moment’s hesitation and a glance towards Kirsty. “I don’t know why I ever thought the apocalypse could be fun … I just want to find the convoy and hope we can find somewhere safe. It’s my only goal.”

  “To meet Alice,” Keith said.

  “Sounds absolutely amazing,” Kirsty said monotonously. “I am going to be thoroughly disappointed if I don’t fall in love with her the moment I meet her.”

  “Very funny,” I said with a smile, but couldn’t help but detect an edge to what she said. “The convoy it is.”

  “Guess we wait until twelve for the broadcast,” Keith said. He was right. We couldn’t do much until we knew where we were heading. That gave us five hours. We could cover a lot of distance in that time. Or we could go in the completely wrong direction. Yet, we couldn’t just wait.

  “If we drive north, we’re heading in the right direction at least,” I said, thinking aloud. There were nods from the others.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Kirsty finally said. I started up the engine and we began moving, speeding away at the speed that only an old van could manage.

  CHAPTER 32

  We drove for the full five hours while waiting for the radio broadcast to start. We saw a lot of undead. And I mean a lot of undead. They were trying to grab at our van and bouncing off as we sped by. I already knew the van was going to be bloody with smeared handprints, trails of blood and gore – we would need to wash it before the sun dried it and made us stink. Then again, could that smell work as a camouflage whilst travelling among the dead? However, I didn’t think I could deal with the flies and other creatures attracted by the rot, especially when the sun heated it up. And believe me when I say the sun was beating down on us that day. If the gore was going to stink, that day was the day it would do it. The sun was burning my legs through the window and I was sweating through my t-shirt, to the point I’d taken it off to cover my legs. I could see Kirsty shifting uncomfortably as well, the heat clearly affecting her.

  “Sorry guys,” she announced and mimicked my action by taking her top off also with the only difference being she remained in her bra.

  “Whoa!” I said dramatically as I jokingly pretended to swerve off the road as if in shock.

  “Oh grow up,” she snapped with annoyance, fanning her face with the map. I tried to keep a cool composure, but it was difficult. I felt embarrassed by the fact Kirsty had called me out on my behaviour. And rightly so.

  “You got a lot of growing to do kid,” Keith laughed from behind. I just simply went red.

  “If I could meet my thirteen-year-old self, he would be high fiving me right now,” I said, shaking my head. Kirsty sighed and put her top back on. I laughed and said, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “You might not have, but I don’t want to die because you’re acting like a teenager. Watch the road,” she said with genuine anger.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” I replied, trying to smooth over the situation. “I acted like an idiot. You shouldn’t have to suffer because I’m immature. So, in the politest way I can say this – feel free to take your top off if you need to.”

  I cringed at my statement, hoping I didn’t come off as the pervert I felt like, but Kirsty didn’t reply. In fact, no one spoke. Not Kirsty. Not Keith. Not even Steph– oh. The van fell into a long and thoughtful silence.

  “I know she made her choice, but I miss Steph,” I said after some time.

  “Me too,” Kirsty sighed, any anger deflating from her. She wasn’t angry with me at all, just taking it out on me.

  “It just isn’t the same without her,” Keith acknowledged. I was getting the impression that Keith didn’t miss her. Not because he didn’t like her, or because he was heartless, he just didn’t get to know her. He was sad though, sad for the loss of life and sad for us. I felt like that was a sign of a great man. I’d never been able to muster empathy for someone when I didn’t know them. Sure, I knew what to say when a friend had a loved one die, but I didn’t get it. I didn’t feel for them. I knew it was sad objectively, and I would acknowledge that sadness, I was just thankful it wasn’t me. Am I a bad person? I was driving across the United Kingdom to save someone I loved. Sure, I probably wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t love them but … I didn’t want to get into that moral debate. I’d become the caretakers of two strangers – I couldn’t be that bad.

  The broadcast came on at noon as scheduled. He spoke about the next checkpoint, sounding calm and collected as ever when he spoke, despite the fact there were obviously gunshots in the background. It was a voice I’d grown to love. He brought good tidings and my body had been conditioned to associate his voice with good news. Not that he said anything particularly good. It was just the fact I now considered him a destination – the destination. I smiled at Thundy. Thundy, ever still, looked as though it was smiling too. Madness? Maybe so, but I could enjoy it while it lasted.

  “How are we doing for time?” I asked Keith – he held the maps and was our navigator. I heard the rustling of maps before Keith answered.

  “Looking at the map and their planned stop … I think, for once, we may be ahead of schedule,” Keith replied thoughtfully.

  “No way?” I asked in utter surprise.

  “No way indeed,” he replied. “We’ve made good time. I would say we could get there in a couple of days if we follow the right roads.”

  “Right roads?” I replied questioningly. Everything seemed to come with a stipulation.

  “It isn’t anything major, but there’s several routes which will bring us very close to the deadline,” Keith said immediately. “If we hit any blocked roads or detours, it could throw off our schedule. However, there’s a town or two we can cut through to make good time.”

  “No populated areas,” I said, shaking my head. “How will we do for time if we go around?”

  “Like I said, it’ll be close. Maybe too close. Maybe even to the point an hour will make all difference,” he said in response. “Sam, if you want to make it, we need to cut through the towns.”

  “Damn,” I cursed. Those weren’t odds I was happy about. It was all too risky. “How small are these towns? How long will it take to cut through?”

  “An hour or two at most if we go through them,” Keith explained. “They’re small. Population of two or three hundred at most – hopefully.”

  “That isn’t a lot,” Kirsty said hopefully.

  “It is if they are all undead and coming down on you,” I said cautiously. I looked over my shoulder at Keith. “Try to be objective … what do you think?”

  “Honestly, I think cutting through is our best bet. It is the only thing we can do to ensure we get there in time. There’s roads running through these towns. Going around will involve taking piddly little country roads. I think these towns are the best way,” he said after a brief pause. He then added as an afterthought, “We could probably get any supplies we need from there if we still make good time.”

  “I just want it known now, I think going through these towns is a bad move but … so be it,” I shrugged, my survival instinct seemed to throw a fit at the thought. Yet the excitement of being so close pushed me onwards. “Fancy pointing me in a direction?”

  Keith did point out the direction I needed to go, and it involved taking main roads. I was wary of that also, especially considering the number of issues and blockages we’d had before – added with Keith’s worry of it meaning delays. Nevertheless, I trusted him and he claimed there were alternative routes we could take if we needed too. Keith was a jack of all trades and, quite clearly, a master of most of them. Weapons expert. Vehicle maintenance. Direction giver. Killer. Counsellor. Escape artist. What couldn’t that man do?

&nb
sp; We hadn’t long been driving on a main road when I noticed a car in one of my mirrors. It was speeding along and was catching up with us. Not exactly hard when we were driving a van.

  “Here we go again,” I sighed, reaching for one of the guns. The others followed my line of sight and saw what I saw. They all reached for weapons also. I continued to stare at the car as it was catching up with us and felt fear grip my insides. It was strange. I knew it wasn’t fear of conflict, although that did set me on edge as my adrenal glands flooded my system ready to fight. I was scared of killing again. Killing another human. I didn’t want to. Yet, I knew it was a very distinct possibility that it would happen. Emotion and logic fought each other.

  “If it comes to it, I’ll do it,” Keith said, almost reading my thoughts.

  “Thanks,” I replied with a tight-lipped smile. He gripped my shoulder and squeezed it sympathetically. I realised, despite the weakness I felt in doing so initially, I was glad I’d told Keith how I felt. He was looking out for me.

  We were all locked and loaded when the car caught up with us. It was an off-road, four-wheel-drive kind of vehicle – black and muddy. Once it had reached us, it maintained its speed to keep level with us. I looked over at the passenger in the other car and they were grinning wildly back at me. He waved and put his thumbs up. I, awkwardly, waved back.

  “Kirsty, you watch him, I need to watch the road,” I said, looking away and shaking my head. She continued to face him.

  “He’s asking us to wait a moment,” she said and, after a while, added. “He wants us to pull over.”

  For a moment, I considered ramming him in an attempt to get away. I think it would have ended worse for us if I had. I glanced over at him and saw him holding up a whiteboard. Scrawled on the board were the words:

  ‘Pull over?’

  The fact he’d added the question mark made all the difference to me. It made it less a command, and more a request. I slowed down, complying with them.

  “What are you doing?” Kirsty asked, clearly worried by my actions.

  “What’s the worst that can happen?” I laughed, damn well knowing what could happen. I turned and looked at her as we came to a stop. “Either they attack us while driving, they attack us while we're stopped, or they’re alright. We’ll see, but I don’t like our chances in a high-speed chase. Besides, how many bandits ask politely?”

  She saw my point but gripped her gun tighter.

  “I’m getting out with you,” Kirsty said, shouldering the Benelli.

  “Fine by me,” I nodded, and looked at Keith hidden away in the back. I added, “They may not know you’re here. Let’s keep it that way.”

  With that, I handed him the SA80.

  “You sure?” he asked, accepting it.

  “Remember, passenger, not a prisoner. I think you can handle it,” I said with a weak smile.

  Nerves plagued my stomach and my hands shook a little. Nevertheless, I got out. The other group of survivors had pulled over in front of us and were also climbing out. I could see three adults – two men and one woman. The woman carried a gun. They all wore summer clothes and were smiling as they approached.

  “I hope they’re normal,” I said quietly and saw a smile flicker across Kirsty’s icy expression. The coldness returned to our faces as the other group got closer – we couldn’t give away a weak impression of ourselves until we knew the full situation. The woman with the gun stopped in her tracks while the other two continued forward. She was their watch – keeping track of any funny business. They were as cautious of us as we were of them. Good – that was probably a positive sign.

  CHAPTER 33

  Both groups stood opposite each other and stared. The only difference between us was the smiles they wore. Our expressions were cold, giving nothing away. Both men were older than me – older than Kirsty too. The woman was quite young and had more than a passing resemblance with one of the men in front of us. Father and daughter maybe? The other man didn’t look like either of them. A friend? A distant relative? The scruffy haired, brown-eyed father slowly reached forward and held his hand out to shake. I mirrored him, taking his extremely calloused hands in a very tight grip. He must have been a labourer at some point – working with his hands for a living.

  “So,” he said, breaking the silence. It was an awkward situation. How did you begin a conversation in such a scenario? I didn’t have anything built into my brain for it.

  “So,” I repeated, staring him down. Silence returned. I took a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to slow my hammering heart. “Let’s get straight to the point. Why’d you want us to pull over?”

  “For a chat, I guess,” the father said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He let his smile come back and said, “We stop and chat to most of the others we’ve seen around. Sharing news between the communities.”

  “Communities?” I said. It wasn’t something we’d come across, but that didn’t make it unlikely. There had to be more survivors out there.

  “Yeah … why?” the father said, suddenly shifting awkwardly. I saw the daughter tighten her grip on the gun. I looked between them all, confused by their defensive behaviour before it clicked why.

  I chuckled and said, “We’re not after your communities. I … we just haven’t seen many others ourselves. One or two groups on the road. That’s about it.”

  “Really?” the other man finally spoke, seeming genuinely surprised. “Where are you from?”

  “Down south. Bristol,” I said, speaking for our group. It wasn’t true for all of us, but pleasantries felt pointless.

  “Oo arr,” I heard the daughter call with a smile. Why was that the stereotype everyone had about my home city?

  “Har har,” I said sarcastically and returned my focus to the men in front of us. “Why?”

  “Well, it’s just that … you’re the third lot of people we’ve seen today. On the road anyway,” the second man said.

  “Everywhere we’ve been seems deserted,” I said calmly. “Quarantines up and around Bristol emptied the roads. Everywhere since has been … dead.”

  “Dead as in empty, or dead as in ghouls?” the father said.

  “They’re zombies,” I heard the daughter call, trying to correct her father.

  “I can’t take that word seriously – they’re ghouls,” he said to his daughter, rolling his eyes. I smiled at that – why did people have such an aversion to calling them what they were?

  “A lot of both,” I said with a shrug, replying to his original question before he was interrupted. “Haven’t found many decent people out there.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had that too. People seem to want what others have,” the father said. We shared a tightlipped smile of agreement.

  “So,” the second guy said, attempting to pursue the conversation from before. “What’s Bristol like?”

  “It … fell. From what I heard,” I said, an icy wave of goosebumps washed over me as I said those words. It was hard to acknowledge.

  “Well, damn,” the second man said in response. “Had family down there.”

  “I’m sure they’re fine,” the father said, trying to comfort his friend.

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Kirsty said, the cold expression she held had not left her face. “But we have a deadline to meet. We’re wasting time here.”

  “Where you heading?” the father said, turning back to us.

  “We’re trying to get to that military convoy. The one that’s been broadcasting on the radio,” I said, realising Kirsty was right. We had somewhere to be. “We need to cut through a couple of towns to get there.”

  “Good idea. Heard they have the last of Government with them as well – means they’re planning to rebuild. Might be hearsay though. If it is true, they could use all the help they can get,” the father said nodding. “Everything will be back to normal sooner or later.”

  “We can only hope,” I said in response, not believing that sentiment in the sli
ghtest.

  “What towns you heading through?” the second man asked and, when I told him, he visibly winced. “I wouldn’t go through the first one if I were you.”

  “Why?” I asked, simultaneously curious and a growing pit of dread in my stomach.

  “Ghouls. Tons of them. You won’t get through. As for the second one, Teek … we lost contact with them a couple of days ago. It probably isn’t good either,” he explained. He saw our expressions and smiled sadly. “The first one is a definite no go. Teek? Maybe you could. It’s down to you.”

  I cursed – fear that we weren’t going to make the checkpoint was setting in. It was only one thing, but the odds had already started stacking against us.

  “We’ve been driving up and down these roads quite a bit the last few days. Some roads are blocked. Others are infested. We can help you if you want?” the father said sympathetically.

  “That would be great,” I nodded. I turned to Alice and– Kirsty. I turned to Kirsty. I shook my head. I turned to Kirsty and said, “I’m just going to get the maps.”

  She nodded and didn’t move. I retreated to the van and to collect them.

  “Everything ok?” Keith whispered to me. He had the barrel of the SA80 resting on the headrest of the driver’s seat. He’d been keeping an eye on us the whole time.

  “Just getting the maps,” I whispered back, rummaging around the van as if I was looking for them. I knew where they were, I just didn’t want to give away we had someone else. I took the maps and left, bringing with me a pencil.

  Once I’d handed it over, they took it and laid it out on the bonnet of their car. The daughter didn’t move, and neither did Kirsty. I could see the two adults discussing the map and pointing to various locations. They were marking areas for us. I saw the father point to somewhere else and the second man shook his head. Were they picking and choosing where to tell me about? It made sense, we were still strangers after all. If they knew of somewhere vulnerable, they had to protect it. They soon returned the map to us.