Kicking her legs from under her, Liz had also knocked the small girl to the floor. Flipping her onto her stomach so she wouldn’t have to look into its dead eyes, she sat on its back pinning it beneath her. The child moaned pitifully and struggled to turn its head to get to Liz. With its jaw snapping hopefully for a mouthful of blood and flesh, Liz held her sword with the point above the child skull. She looked up at Alice.
‘God, this is a shitty way to live.’ She said.
‘I know.’ Alice replied, with sadness in her voice.
Liz looked back down at what had once been an innocent child, now just a Dead thing, forever tormented by hunger.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, as her sword plunged into the back of the girl’s skull and brain.
Instantly the struggles stopped and the Dead child was still. Letting out a shuddering breath Liz slowly stood up.
‘Everything OK?’ Damian called from the walkway.
‘No, not really.’ Liz said, quietly to herself. Her eyes going back to the small tarnished ladybird clip now caked in dark dead blood.
‘I’ll find out who’s on clean-up to take them over to the fire pit.’ Damian said, disappearing from view.
They would store the corpses in a pit they had dug some distance away from the convent. Once a month, one of the nuns would come out with a few of the refugees for protection and pray for the passing of the Dead. They would then set the pit alight, the fire consuming all of the decayed flesh within a few hours. This way they only had to deal with the smell of burning bodies monthly rather than whenever the need actually arose.
Liz cleaned off her blade on some grass and slid it back into its sheath until it clicked home.
‘Great way to start a day.’ she said, while she and Alice climbed back up the rope ladder, over the high wall and back onto the walkway. Sally had followed Damian into the main area of the convent leaving Alice and Liz to continue with their shift.
‘You got something for me young ladies?’ A voice called up to them from below.
Looking down Liz saw that Phil had come to take away the bodies. Phil had been a butcher before the dead rose so he was used to handling lifeless flesh. At forty-seven he had kept himself in good shape. His thick arms and blocky torso were ideal for lifting the corpses into the wheelbarrow he pushed in front of him. He was a bit gruff and with his shaved head and close cropped beard, he could appear a little intimidating to those who didn’t know him but Liz knew there was a kind soul hidden beneath.
His partner, David, had died two years ago when the refugees had been looking for supplies in an isolated farm house. A staircase had collapsed, dropping him through to a basement below. Falling badly, he’d ruptured something inside and died of internal bleeding. Phil had held David in his arms right to the end and then in a final act of love, had forced his knife through the ear canal into the brain.
‘Just two so far Phil,’ Alice called down, ‘and you’ve got the all clear at the moment if you want to go out now.’
‘Don’t know that ‘want’ is quite the right word but there’s a job to do.’ Phil said, tying his leather apron straps behind him.
Just as the girls had done, he too wore a buckled neck protector and sturdy gloves, although the gloves looked a bit snug on his large hands. Hanging from the wheel barrow was a long machete type knife. It was attached by Velcro so it could be pulled to hand at a moment’s notice. Liz left the walkway to close and lock the side gate behind him as he left.
‘Be careful on the way to the pit and if you see anything just shout and we’ll come help, OK.’ She said, as Phil pushed the wheel barrow over to the two still corpses.
She liked Phil and didn’t want to lose him to the Dead, or a stupid accident as they had David.
‘Will do.’ He said, as he heaved the man’s body onto the barrow with a grunt.
Pausing slightly before picking up the child, he placed her ravaged body gently on top. Like everybody he hated dealing with the turned children the most.
‘If I’m not back in half an hour, don’t come looking for me girls. I’ll either be one of the Dead or making out with a handsome stranger, if I can find one. Neither of which I think you’ll want to see.’ he replied, with a smile as he lifted the barrow handles and started pushing it across the field.
‘You’ve got twenty minutes and we’re coming looking for you, Mister,’ Alice called down from the walkway, ‘and if you get us all worried while you’re in the bushes with some man, there’ll be hell to pay.’ She laughed as Liz re-joined her.
‘Shall we do a circuit?’ Liz suggested, as she watched Phil disappear between the trees.
The two young women slowly made their way round the convent walkway, checking for wandering Dead. They stopped at the far south corner. The surrounding fields had been planted with wheat and truth be told, Liz wasn’t looking forward to harvesting it. From what she had learnt from Sister Claire, it was going to be backbreaking work. At the moment it was the tall wheat grass that concerned Liz most. It was just high enough to cover any multitude of horrors. They watched the wheat swaying in the wind, looking for any odd movement that could indicate something that was once human pulling itself along the ground towards them. She let her eyes go out of focus slightly, seeing the wheat field as a whole. After a few minutes of this, she was happy there was no threat. Then she noticed in the distance, along the tree line road a horse pulling a box topped cart. It must be Charlie and Imran she thought, her heart speeding up.
A few years ago, many survivors had realised that the Dead didn’t attack horses for some unknown reason. They attacked most species but horses didn’t seem to be on the menu. So, thankfully, survivors could travel by horse power, as long as the Dead didn’t catch sight of them. The boxed cover of the cart kept them out of sight and with slits cut on all sides, the occupants could see out but not draw the attention of the Dead.
The two women watched the box covered cart slowly make its way along the tree lined road. Whoever was driving was taking the usual zigzag route through the road’s pot holes and badly cracked service. Like all roads now, nature had started to re-claim the manmade scars that blighted its surface. Tufted grass, weeds and even some tree saplings were common inconveniences for any traveller now.
Many of the main roads and motorways were completely impassable. The mass panic that ensued when the Dead rose, meant most were crammed with now abandoned crashed cars and buses. In fact anything with wheels had been used to flee the mouths that bought death with a bite. Motorways had been a scary place to be in those first few days. People, desperate to find sanctuary somewhere had found themselves gridlocked, unable to move even when the Dead swept down upon them like a wave of terror. Those who could, fled their vehicles, a horrific stampede with many being trampled by their fellow travellers, only then to find the trampled and crushed become more of the Dead amongst them. Others trapped in their cars were set upon by the recently turned, smashing windows to get to the terrified occupants. Drivers and passengers were dragged from their cars screaming as they were torn apart by the Dead, while those who had stayed to help the trapped only to be set upon themselves. This was not like in the old films where heroes could shoot their way through to a rescue. This was not America, where guns were easy to get, they had to make do with whatever weapons they could get hold of. In fact, guns were a rare commodity in this new world. Ammunition would inevitably run out so survivors relied on more sustainable weapons.
The Convent had a few shot guns and hand guns that they had liberated from farmhouses and the Dead alike. Sometimes they would come across a soldier or armed policeman who still had a working weapon in its holster. Useless to the owner now, they would put the Dead to rest and salvage the gun and any ammunition they carried. These guns were used only in an emergency, kept clean and working by Charlie, just in case.
It was then that Liz noticed the second horse tied to the back of the cart. Only one horse was taken from the convent at a time, so it looked like they had a
visitor or new arrival.
‘Better go tell Mother Superior we’ve got company.’ Liz said, as she pointed out the extra horse to Alice.
The new horse didn’t look well fed, she could see its ribs and it walked at a painfully slow pace. That didn’t bode well for its owner. You didn’t want your only means of transport dropping dead from exhaustion when you were out in the Dead land.
‘I’d better tell Sister Rebecca to have some of that porridge handy too, looks like who-ever is coming will need it if you ask me.’ Alice replied, as she ran off down the walkway to the ladder.
As desperate as Liz was to meet Charlie and Imran at the gate, she was on watch and could not leave the convent walls unguarded. She did another two slow circuits of the walkway, checking for the Dead as always. She waved to Phil as he returned, his wheelbarrow now empty.
‘Any trouble?’ She asked, opening the side gate for him.
‘No… all A-OK,’ he replied, ‘I think we should have a burning soon, that pit’s getting pretty crowded and we don’t want a plague of rats adding to the fun, do we?’ He continued, struggling to remove his gloves.
At that point the outside bell rang. The low sombre note telling those inside a weary traveller had arrived seeking the sanctuary of the Convent once again.
‘Can you get the main gate Phil and I’ll do the once over from the walkway.’ Liz said, as she ran back to the ladder.
When the refugees had first arrived at the Carmelite Convent there had just been a normal set of large iron gates. But with help from the new inhabitants, these had been transformed into a more secure entry. The main gate had been fortified and made solid. They had also built extending walls from the Convent with another outside gate at the end. Those who wanted to come in would first enter this ‘holding’ area, where someone from the walkway could look down and make sure no Dead had followed them in. Once the all clear was given, the outside gate would be pulled shut via a series of chains and pulleys operated from within the convent.
As expected, the cart with its dilapidated horse in tow, sat patiently inside the first set of gates. Liz moved along the walkway checking both sides of the cart. When she was satisfied all was well she went to the winch handle that allowed the outer gates to close. Turning the handle she could see the gates slowly shut. As soon as the gate was closed a wooden hatch on the cart roof popped open. There, with a smile on his face was Imran. His eyes with their long dark lashes, his full lips and his dark olive skin, all called out to her.
‘Hey you,’ he said, with a twinkle in his eye that promised future passion.
As always she felt a longing to be with him. To feel his touch and caress. ‘Later’ she thought to herself.
Imran climbed out onto the cart roof, jumped down and started checking underneath for any hangers on. There had been one instance when a Dead woman had been caught under the wheels. They hadn’t noticed until they had already entered the Convent and she began pulling herself out from underneath. It could have ended badly if not for Charlie and his swift knife action. He had jumped on her back, breaking it under his weight and using the hunting knife he had strapped to the stump of his left wrist, he pierced the back of her skull cleanly. So now it was standard practice to check thoroughly before the cart was allowed in. With lives at stake, they couldn’t afford to take chances.
‘Ok Phil, they can come in.’ she called down, watching Phil release the inner main gate.
Slowly the cart rolled forward, the new horse seeming to use the last reserves of energy to follow. With a whistle from Phil, Penny and Lars came out of the stable. Carrying a bucket of water in each of his misshapen arthritic hands, Lars filled the water trough. The two of them had taken over the care of the horses full time and they were as different as night and day. Lars, in his late sixties, suffered terribly from his crippling arthritis but had been determined to make himself a useful member of the community.
Lars had been a geography teacher leading a group of students on a field trip when the dead rose. Keeping calm, he managed to save many of his charges from the initial panic by boarding themselves into the hostel they were staying. Nine days later, when the food ran out, their situation went downhill fast. As a group they had voted to go looking for help, which sadly proved to be fatal for most of the teenagers. They soon found themselves on a bridge surrounded, with the Dead on all sides. He had fought hard to save the children in his care but one by one, the dead tore them to pieces. At the last moment he managed to get to the side of the bridge with Penny. Grabbing the hysterical, blood covered girl he threw himself over the edge to the fast flowing water below. Penny had stayed with him ever since but over time she had regressed into a childlike state, shutting out the horrors her mind could no longer cope with.
Penny skipped to the horses, barefoot, humming a tune to herself. Twirling her long hair in her fingers she gently stroked the new horse’s nose.
‘All the King’s horses and all the King’s men couldn’t put humpty together again.’ She sang to herself. What was going on in her mind only she would know.
‘Come on now, Penny, get this poor beast something to eat.’ Lars said, as she untethered the horse from the side of the cart. Penny looked at him as if she had just realised he was there.
‘Hello Samson,’ She said, as she moved to the horse that had been pulling the cart, ‘Welcome home.’ Kissing Samson’s cheek, she skipped off humming.
Imran had made his was up onto the walkway, his hands slipping around Liz’s waist from behind.
‘Miss me?’ He whispered in her ear.
‘You don’t know how much.’ She said smiling, looking at him over her shoulder.
Turning her round, he reached down to kiss her but she lifted a finger to his lips she stopping him.
‘Na, ah, not when I’m on shift, I’ve had a go at Sally and Damian earlier for not taking watch duty seriously.’ A brief look of disappointment flashed across his face.
‘Oh, OK, but you’d better watch out later, I want payback with interest.’ Imran said, kissing her hand.
‘So whose is the horse?’ Liz asked, glancing down at Lars and Penny feeding the horses.
‘Just another survivor with a sad story,’ Imran replied, the smile dropping from his face, ‘Charlie and I found him sleeping in a tree. He’d tied himself to the trunk the night before and when we came upon him there were three of the Dead at the base. He’s half starved, so if we hadn’t come along I doubt he’s have survived for long.’
‘What’s his name?’ Liz asked.
‘William Parker,’ Imran said, ‘but that’s about all we got out of him so far. Hopefully when he’s got some food in him, he’ll be able to tell us more.’
Below, Alice had returned with Sister Josephine, the Mother Superior, and Sister Catherine. Liz watched as the back hatch on the cart opened and Charlie helped William down. The new arrival was obviously very weak and shaky on his feet. Charlie’s tall muscular frame was quite a contrast to Mr Parker, who looked as starved and dilapidated as his horse. Sister Josephine gave Mr Parker a warm welcoming hug and with Sister Catherine, led him back into the convent with Charlie following behind. Even from on the walkway, Liz could see Mr Parker was sobbing, the relief of finding some sanctuary in a world of the Dead being too much for him.
‘Right, I’ll see you later then.’ Imran said, cupping his hand to her cheek.
‘Later.’ she replied with a smile, covering his hand with her own.
‘Not disturbing anything I hope?’ Alice asked, as she reached the top of the ladder.
‘No, I’m just going, mustn’t distract you two from your work.’ Imran said, helping Alice onto the walkway.
Liz watched Imran as he climbed down the ladder and made his way across the garden. Just before he disappeared from view he turned and waved to her.
‘Eyes back in your head Lizzy, he’ll keep.’ Alice said, giving her a friendly nudge.
‘Hmm, yeh.’ She replied, blushing slightly, ‘Come on let’s get on
with this’.
For the next four hours Alice and Liz walked the perimeter of the convent. With no more sign of the Dead, the time passed slowly. The sunny morning passed into a lazy warm afternoon, with a pleasant breeze keeping them cool. The two chatted occasionally, always keeping one eye on the outside world. At one point Liz saw movement over by the tree line, a quick darting movement, barely even rustling the small bushes that ran along the edge of the woodland. She stopped, raised her hand to shield her eyes and stared intently at the area where she has seen something.
‘What have you seen?’ Alice asked, following Liz’s gaze.
‘I’m not sure… But there by that patch of blackberry bushes.’ she replied, pointing ‘I’m sure something was moving.’
Then with an explosion of leaves, a large brown rabbit broke forth from its cover and darted from one patch to another. Liz smiled to herself. It was nice to think that not everything was dead outside of the convent walls. The rabbit would be quite safe from the slow shambling Dead. Being naturally a fast animal, combined with its nervous and easily spooked nature, the Dead would not find the rabbit an easy target.
The English country side had changed just like everywhere else since the Dead rose. You never saw unprotected cows or sheep grazing in fields anymore. These beasts, which were used to dealing with man in one way or another, had soon fallen prey to the Dead. Liz was thankful that whatever brought the Dead back was limited to the human race. She didn’t relish the prospect of having to deal with a herd of Dead cows charging after them. Dogs, once domesticated, had mainly regressed into wild mongrel packs. Often starving, they would roam the countryside attacking the living or any livestock they came across. Able to dodge the slow moving Dead, they avoided attack easily. In fact if they were really desperate they would even dart in snatching decaying flesh from the limbs of the walking Dead. The bond between Humans and dogs was no more. In the dog’s mind the human had gone from friend and pack leader to food.
Six Days With the Dead Page 3