Six Days With the Dead

by Stephen Charlick

  ‘Sometimes what he takes with one hand he gives with another,’ Imran said once they were going in the correct direction again. ‘We never would have found that ambulance if the way hadn’t been blocked.’

  ‘My Man, the philosopher,’ Liz said to herself smiling, as she kept an eye on the passing countryside.

  ‘Well, there’s more to me than my stunning good looks and sexual prowess,’ he said turning his head in profile, striking a pose.

  At that precise moment Ratbag chose to release her bladder.

  Laughing, Liz said, ‘one if you is taking the piss, hard to tell which though.’

  ‘Very funny,’ Imran said, returning to look out of an eye hole, a fake sulky look on his face.

  ****

  For the next few miles, Liz and Imran exchanged friendly insults and jibes. The type of insults that could only come from someone that loved you and knew was loved in return. No malice or hidden meaning was inferred, it was more a way to pass the time and with each hour that passed, the convent became just that bit closer. The morning soon became afternoon, as the miles passed beneath them without incident or any sign of the Dead. Occasionally, they heard the distant barking of dogs, echoing through the countryside as they gave chase to a meal. They would never know if their quarry had screamed as the pack descended upon it or just let out a Dead moan. Liz prayed the scene they had witnessed in the field was not being replayed again, and somewhere a living person wasn’t fighting for their life against a hungry pack. But the barking soon faded to be replaced by the call of the birds and the slow, rhythmic creaking of the cart as Delilah pulled them home.

  As the afternoon wore on the sky ahead began to darken as the angry clouds, creeping across the sky from the west, forewarned of the heavy downpour to come.

  ‘Hope we get back before that breaks,’ Charlie said, glancing up at the block of slate grey coming their way, ‘but knowing our luck on this trip, I doubt it.’

  They had just begun to pass a few dilapidated cottages when Liz recognised one of the small abandoned homes.

  ‘I know where we are,’ she said excitedly. ‘We’re pulling into the village with the bus crashed on the village green. It’s not that far to St Mawgan village, the Raven Inn, Jackson and then home.’ Counting each signpost off on her fingers as she named them, Liz then grabbed Imran’s shirt, pulling him roughly towards her to plant a kiss on his lips.

  ‘Almost home,’ she said, her mouth barely leaving his as her lips formed the words.

  Sure enough, Delilah soon pulled them onto one of the small roads that ran along the side of the green, its crashed provincial school bus a testament to the unnatural horrors that had visited this quiet placed so many years ago. The dark slate clouds had caught up with them now, blanketing the whole sky with rumbling storm clouds. With the sun cut off by the thick cloud cover, the village was now bathed in a gloomy half-light. Colour seemed to vanish from the scene, as everything became painted in shades of dusty grey. Above their heads the clouds seem to roll and bubble, it would not be long before they could hold their torrent no longer.

  ‘I don’t think we’re going to outrun this,’ Imran said.

  With hardly any light now coming into the cart, they sat in near darkness. To the west a low rumbling began, ominously increasing in volume as more and more of the heavy clouds collided into each other. Then without warning, there was a violent crash of thunder directly above them, followed immediately by another flash of lightening that streaked wild electricity across the sky. Startled by the sudden loud noise and light, Delilah reared up, neighing in fear as she bucked her head back and forth.

  ‘Whoa girl, easy, easy…’ Charlie said, trying to calm Delilah down before she bolted into a gallop.

  If she did, the cart wheels would surely be damaged on the uneven broken road surface. Inside the cart, Delilah’s motion knocked them back and forth. Stinky and Ratbag squealed angrily as they were buffeted around in their little crate, while Liz and Imran had to brace themselves against the sides of the cart. Then within a few seconds, the first few heavy drops hit the ground, each throwing up a tiny cloud of dust in their wake as they landed. Soon the few became many and then the heavy rain was falling in such a deluge they could barely see a few metres ahead of themselves. Potholes quickly began to fill, while blocked and broken gutters on buildings sprayed collected water over paths and overgrown gardens alike. Falling in sheets, the heavy drops pounded noisily against the cart’s roof and even began to drip through onto the occupants inside. Eventually Charlie managed to calm Delilah, though she still swung her head and stamped her hooves in annoyance. Finally, he managed to encourage her to move onward again and once more Liz was thankful for Delilah’s temperament. Many a startled horse had broken free of its harness before, to gallop away leaving those in the cart stranded and in danger. She may have reared in fear at first but Liz knew Delilah trusted Charlie and his soothing tone had quickly calmed her down enough to be able to get back to work.

  The dim light and the pouring rain were making it difficult for Charlie to determine which of the puddles were really the water filled potholes and on more than one occasion the cart leaned sharply to one side as a wheel dipped into one. At least at the pace they were moving this jarring motion was less likely to damage the wheel but it was a chance Charlie didn’t like to take, especially so far from the Convent. Half an hour later, the storm still raged on. Above them, rain fell, thunder rumbled and the darkness was ripped apart by the arcs of lightning shooting across a blackened sky. At least they had left the small village green far behind them now and were one step closer to home. In her head Liz was mentally jumping through the visual landmarks they would pass on their way, ticking them off one by one as they came upon them. A particular car wreck on a corner, a twisted tree that looked like a screaming woman, the gate on a field with the faded painted letters ‘GG’ on the cross bar, all were mentally ticked off her list as Delilah took them nearer and nearer to St Mawgan village.

  An hour later and the downpour still hadn’t let up, the rain a constant drumming on the cart roof, while above them the dark clouds rumbled. It would not be long before they reached the outskirts of St Mawgan and Liz was itching to get home.

  ‘For God’s sake,’ Imran said, trying to position himself out from underneath a constant drip falling down his neck, ‘this is storm’s bad one. Do you think the harvest in the fields will be ruined?’

  ‘Sister Claire will have to take a look in the morning,’ Charlie said. ‘The whole Convent may have to go out in the fields tomorrow if she says we have to salvage the grain and potato harvest before they rot.’

  ‘Oh, that’ll be fun,’ Imran said sarcastically, ‘back breaking work, ankle deep in mud, can’t wait.’

  ‘Well, if we want to eat bread or have potatoes through the winter, we don’t have much choice,’ Liz said, as she absentmindedly scratched Stinky behind the ear.

  Ratbag, who seemed to have now got used to her new human companions, tried to push Stinky out of the way to nuzzle at Liz's hand herself. Glancing down at the two piglets, now squabbling for her attention, Liz reached into the crate with her other hand to give Ratbag a scratch too. Now that she was leaning low over the crate her head was in line with one of the open spy holes. So, as she gave the piglets the scratching they craved, she watched the rain drenched scenery pass by. It was still quite dark outside and she couldn’t see far, so when they passed a small turning, she had to quickly move to another spy hole to make sure she had seen correctly.

  ‘Stop!’ she shouted grabbing the back of Charlie’s jacket.

  A swift tug on the reins and Delilah was brought to a halt.

  ‘What? What is it?’ Imran said, moving from eye hole to eye hole trying to see what she had seen.

  ‘I saw a horse and cart down the last turning. They were sat there not moving, parked under a large tree’ she replied, looking from Charlie to Imran.

  ‘Sheltering from the rain or waiting in ambush?’ Charlie said
scratching his chin. ‘That’s the question.’

  ‘Well, we can back Delilah up to the turning. You and Liz check them out and I’ll keep you covered from here,’ Imran said, reaching for his bow. ‘Although, with this heavy rain, like at the Substation, I can’t guarantee on my aim… but they won’t know that.’

  ‘Right, looks like we’re about to get very wet very quickly,’ Charlie said, as he opened one of the side hatches.

  Jumping down to the road, he was drenched almost immediately. Taking Delilah by her bridle, he led her in a tight circle so they could go back the few metres to where the other road joined theirs. Once the cart was in position, Imran opened the top hatch to give fire cover for Liz and Charlie while they walked to the stationary strangers. Liz, giving up trying to wipe the dripping water from her face, concentrated on the vehicle in front of them. There was a strange sound coming from the cart but each time she thought she could identify it, the wind would howl past them, snatching the sound away. Like their own, the cart was a basic box on wheels pulled by a horse. The poor beast looked like it was on its last legs. It stood forlornly with its head down, rain water dripping from its muzzle and mane. Unlike their own cart though, this one had some sort of strange decoration on its walls. Not until they got closer, could Liz see that nailed to the outside were strings of rosary beads and crucifixes in various sizes. They had seen this sort of thing before. People desperate to appease a harsh and angry God, would go to the extremes in their desire to show their faith. Many of these Zealots thought that the Dead were a test and all they had to do was keep the faith and they would survive this trial. But Liz had seen many a devout man soon lose his conviction when Dead teeth began to rip them to pieces and pull out their organs. God had never intervened in the fate of Man before, so why would he now. She never understood why these people thought it would be different this time, just because the Dead had come back.

  ‘Hey! Anyone in there?’ Charlie called, fighting against the sound of the wind and rain to be heard.

  When nothing happened he looked at Liz and knowing that they may have to check that the cart wasn’t filled with the Dead, she withdrew her blade from its sheath. As raindrops splashed off the metal of her blade they made a small ‘ping’ sound. Standing there, with only the sound of the falling rain and odd rumble of thunder breaking the silence, the ‘pinging’ from her sword added an eerie, almost magical accompaniment to this wild symphony of nature. Then she heard the strange sound again coming from inside the cart. This close to the source she recognised it immediately.

  ‘Charlie there’s a baby in there!’ Liz said, ‘can’t you hear it?’

  Liz began to move forward eager to rescue this abandoned child.

  ‘Liz wait!’ Charlie said, reaching to pull her back.

  But when she was within arm’s reach of one the side hatches, it opened slowly to reveal the shadowy figure of a man. Liz held her sword high, ready for the Dead man to attack, but as the man moved she could see his dark eyes shining like wet coal. He was alive.

  ‘There’s no need for that, Miss, we are not tainted by the Damned,’ he said, as he leaned forward so Liz could see him clearly.

  The man was in his late forties, clean shaven and had short dark hair, greying at the temples. Like many people his face showed the signs of one too many missed meals, so his slightly gaunt look accentuated his high cheek bones and strong Roman nose. He wore a stained black shirt with his sleeves rolled up showing taut muscular arms. His white dog-collar was grimy and in its frayed state, it had obviously seen better days. Even though he had his hands clearly in view with his palms facing upwards calmly, there was something about this man she did not trust. Something about the way his smile did not extend to his dark glinting eyes that made her hands itch.

  ‘I heard a baby,’ Liz said, trying to shield her eyes from the rain with her empty hand. ‘Is everything ok?’

  ‘Thank you for your concern young Miss, I am the Reverend Nathan Moore and I’m travelling with my wife, Ruth. She gave birth just yesterday to a fine boy. He’s a little vocal I’m afraid,’ he replied, toying with a silver crucifix hanging about his neck.

  All the while he spoke his eyes kept flicking over at Charlie standing behind Liz and she found it a little disconcerting.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Sir, I’m Elizabeth and this is Sergeant Charles Philips. And how is your wife now? Giving birth on the road couldn’t have been easy,’ she asked, trying to keep the Reverend’s attention on her.

  ‘Yes, she is fine, the child was born with no difficulties. Ruth was a nurse before our Heavenly Father passed his judgement upon the sinful,’ he said raising his eyes momentarily to the stormy clouds above.

  Liz assumed he meant when the Dead came back but didn’t question him on his beliefs. In her experience, engaging these types of people in anything approaching a rational conversation was pointless, they were unable to conceive anything beyond the world they had constructed for themselves.

  ‘It must have been very dangerous for her to go through labour out here among the Dead,’ Charlie said. ‘Your wife must be a very brave woman, Reverend.’

  ‘The Lord looked down upon her and found her righteous in his eyes, the sinful did not see or hear her,’ the Reverend replied, smiling while he stared at Charlie, almost willing him to question his reasoning.

  ‘And can we see your wife and baby?’ Liz asked, taking a step forward. ‘New life is such a precious thing in this world now.’

  ‘No!’ he snapped, quickly moving his hands to the sides of the hatch blocking her view ‘she is resting, you understand’

  The smile slowly returning to his lips while he tilted his head to one side. Liz’s eyes flicked to Charlie, something wasn’t right here and they both knew it.

  ‘It’s alright Nathan, I will talk with the young lady,’ came a voice from within the cart.

  ‘As you wish Ruth,’ turning his head slowly to look behind him, the Reverend nodded.

  When a second face appeared at the hatch, Liz was taken aback by the contrast between the Reverend and his wife. As dark as his eyes were, hers were the colour of blue ice, sparkling and slightly wild, yet they held a kindness in them. Where his hair was black, hers was a very pale blond that reminded Liz of rich thick cream. The hunger they had both suffered, had left nothing but sharp angles on the Reverend’s face but on Ruth it gave to her a delicate fragile quality.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, smiling kindly extending a hand past her husband. ‘I’m Ruth, pleased to meet you.’

  Shaking her delicate hand warmly, Liz noticed the rosary bead wound tightly about her thin wrist.

  ‘So where are you from and what are you doing out here, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Charlie asked, still wary of the strangers.

  Ruth’s eyes flicked to Charlie and she slowly withdrew her hand from Liz’s.

  ‘We had to flee from our last home,’ the Reverend said, his neck stiffening. ‘We were attacked by a Raiding party. But, God was merciful, he gave us safe passage among the Damned. Now though, we’re a little at a loss as to where to go.’

  There was a pause as Charlie looking from the Reverend to his wife, weighed things up in his mind. Letting just any stranger know about the convent was a dangerous thing to do. Their resources were not limitless and not everyone would fit into their ‘family’.

  ‘Well you’ve been very lucky. Those raiders have wiped out two other settlements that we know of, women and children killed,’ Charlie said, thinking of the ruined bodies of Louise Penhaligan and her daughter. ‘You’d best follow us. We live in a community in a Convent about two hours from here.’

  He wasn’t too happy about taking them back to the convent. Sometimes those with such strong religious convictions stirred up mixed feelings with people. The Sisters had accepted all into their home with a real Christian charity without feeling the need to preach or convert. But Charlie knew he couldn’t just abandon them out here with only the divine for protection, not with the baby on board,
it just wasn’t in him.

  ‘A Convent!’ the Reverend said, a strange twinkling in his dark eyes. ‘A sign Ruth! Our Lord is giving us sanctuary in His house.’

  The Reverend’s wife crossed herself and kissed the crucifix about her neck, mumbling a prayer of thanks to herself.

  ‘Well, that’s settled then,’ Liz said, ‘if you follow us, we’ll be home soon.’

  ‘May God shower his mercy upon you,’ the Reverend said, smiling bowing his head slightly.

  ‘I think I’ve had enough showers at the moment,’ Liz said, meaning it as a joke about the rain but something undefinable flashed across the Reverends eyes, unnerving Liz a little.

  It may have only been a trick of the light though because the look was gone and replaced with a smile almost immediately.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Liz asked Charlie, while they made their way back to the cart in the rain.

  ‘Don’t know if they’re going to fit in, Liz. Folks like that are too busy seeing the evil in everybody to see the good…. Didn’t have much time for their way of thinking before the Dead came and certainly don’t now.’

  ‘Hmm…’ Liz said, thinking about the strange family they were letting into their home, though she knew ultimately they would be given the chance.

  They had failed the O’Briens and perhaps through this family with their newborn, they could somehow make amends.

  When they got back to the cart Imran was shaking the worst of the rain off himself.

  ‘So?’ he asked, ringing out his Kufie skullcap.

  ‘Preacher, his wife and a baby,’ Charlie said, gathering up Delilah’s reins ‘they’re coming with us.’

  ‘Are they nice?’ Imran said to Liz, while Charlie set Delilah back on their journey home.

  ‘Erm, hard to tell. She seems alright, but they’re very religious,’ she replied. ‘Perhaps they’ll relax a bit once they feel safer… who knows?’