Six Days With the Dead

by Stephen Charlick

  ‘Run Penny! Run!’ Lars screamed to the hysterical girl, once the door was half open.

  Unable to comprehend an escape passed the Dead man clawing for her flesh, Penny continued to cower at the back the cupboard, fear blinding her to her only chance to live. Realising Penny wouldn’t be able to move on her own, Lars let go of one of Adrian’s hands momentarily so he could pull Penny to the open door. Even though she struggled like a trapped animal, Lars managed to thrust her through the open doorway. Falling to her knees, Penny looked up at the Dead man now focusing all his attention on her and began to kick her legs, trying to push herself away from him.

  ‘Penny, for fucks sake! Just get up and run!... Run!’ Lars shouted at Penny, knowing he couldn’t hold onto Adrian’s arm much longer.

  Something in the way he had shouted or perhaps the language he used, must have penetrated through her hysteria, her screaming stopped abruptly and she looked at Lars, with something close to shock on her face. She then pushed herself to her feet, turned and ran. At that moment, Lars lost his hold on the remaining Dead arm and Adrian was free. Choosing to go for the closest meal, Adrian threw open the door and made a grab for Lars, knocking him to the cupboard floor. Locked in a life and death struggle, Lars tried to keep Adrian’s hungry mouth from him by pushing his own deformed hands beneath Adrian’s chin. Feeling what little strength he had left slowly evaporating, he knew it wouldn’t be long before the snapping teeth tore into his flesh. Then, suddenly, Adrian was jerked violently backwards, putting a small, but welcome distance between Lars and the Dead man’s teeth. Glancing quickly over Adrian’s shoulder, Lars couldn’t believe his eyes. Standing behind Adrian, a determined look on her face was Penny. She had grabbed hold of the back of Adrian’s jacket and was clearly straining to pull him away from Lars. As valiant as her effort was to save her teacher, Penny just didn’t have the physical strength to prevent Adrian eventually reaching his prize. Penny’s tear filled eyes briefly locked with Lars’ and something passed between them. Somehow Penny had clawed her way through her fantasy world back to the horrific truth of reality, only to fail the man who had cared for her for the last seven years. As Penny’s grip on Adrian weakened, Lars knew his time had come. With one last buck from Adrian, Penny lost her grip, falling backwards against the opposite wall. Now free, Adrian paused for all but a millisecond before pouncing on Lars’. This infinitely small pause was all that was need though, and with the sound of a single gunshot, Adrian’s head exploded sideways. With a rumble of footsteps, Alice appeared by Lars’ side, pushing the prone body of Adrian off of him.

  ‘My God Lars, are you ok? Did he bite you?’ Alice said, turning Lars’ hands over in hers to check for bite marks.

  ‘I’m fine, a bit shook up but fine…Pen…’ Lars’ words were cut short as Penny threw herself at him, knocking Alice out of the way.

  ‘I couldn’t come back, I just couldn’t come back, but I had to, for you Sir, for you,’ Penny said, as she clung to Lars, weeping into his chest.

  ‘Penny?’ Alice said, shocked that the girl was showing signs of being mentally present.

  ‘Yes, erm..sorry, I don’t know who you are…?’ Penny said looking over to Alice, a look of confusion mixing with her tears.

  ‘Alice, it’s Alice,’ she replied, taking a quick look up and down the hallway. ‘Look, you two need to find somewhere safe to wait this mess out. Come on, follow me.’

  Alice led Lars and Penny back up the staircase to the sleeping cells. After tapping on Justin’s door a few times, he eventually opened up revealing a tear streaked face, red and puffy.

  ‘Justin, Lars and Penny will keep you company for a while,’ she said cupping his chin in her hands. ‘Nicky and Richard are still out in the fields with some of the others but they must have heard the gunshots by now. So, this will soon be over. Just keep quiet and still and you’ll be safe, ok?’

  She said the last comment hoping Penny’s sudden return to reality was a permanent one and she finally had some control. As Alice closed the door, she heard Penny whisper to Lars ‘Where are we?’

  ***

  Imran walked slowly down the corridor that led past the Refectory and onto the kitchen. Passing the open Refectory door, he stopped. It was not the huge amount of drying blood covering one of the tables or even the large spray of blood up one of the tall windows that gave part of the room a sickly pink glow that caught his attention and made his heart sink. No, there crumpled on the floor, matted with thick congealing blood sat a once cream Kufie cap. In that instant he knew his brother was no more. Choking back the pain that promised to overwhelm him, he knew he could not let his brother wander in his Dead state. He must find Mohammed and put him to rest, he owed him this service. Taking a deep shaky breath, Imran slowly closed the door on the carnage and carried on his search.

  Michael stood moaning in the kitchen, not that in his Dead state he knew what a kitchen was or even cared, but something had drawn him here. His Dead ears had detected a sound, a sound that would have made his mouth water, if only his saliva glands had still been working. Even now he could still hear it in this room, but nothing of interest seemed to catch his attention. From her hiding place in the cupboard under the sink, Sister Catherine could just about see one of the Dead man’s blood soaked shoes. She was sure it was her whimpering that had brought him to the kitchen, and even though she had her hand over her mouth, terrified sounds still escaped her. She had been coming from one of the bathrooms when she heard the screams and gunshots, if she had been thinking straight she would have darted back to one of the bathrooms, at least there, windows offered a route for escape. But she had panicked and now she sat squashed in the small cupboard, cursing her own stupidity. The Dead man took a step in her direction and despite her prayers for strength, another strangled cry worked its way through her lips and fingers. Michael looked down with milky eyes at the small cupboard door, moving slightly. Sister Catherine’s shaking fingers gripped the inside of the wooden frame, desperately trying to keep the doors closed, but unknowingly giving herself away. Sensing something to satisfy his hunger was near, the Dead man grabbed the door handles and with a pull that almost removed one of the doors entirely, he had finally found his meal. Screaming, Sister Catherine kicked wildly at the Dead face that loomed towards her. With living flesh now in his grasp, Michael tried to grab hold of one of the Sister’s kicking legs. Eventually, his fist closed around one of the terrified woman’s ankles and with a yank, she was pulled violently from the cupboard. Feeling the live flesh between his Dead fingers, Michael could wait no more. Opening his mouth wide, Michael darted in for a bite. Despite her hysterical screams and her struggling, there was nothing Sister Catherine could do to prevent his blood splattered teeth ripping into the flesh of her ankle. As Michael pulled back, tearing her skin and blood vessels, Sister Catherine’s screams raised in pitch to a sound of pure animal terror. At that moment, she knew she was as Dead as the thing with her flesh in its mouth. It was not the actual dying that terrified her so much, but that she would become an instrument of Death herself that she would attack her friends and pass onto them this abomination. No, she said to herself she would not let that happen. Empowered with a new sense of purpose, Sister Catherine kicked out with her free leg, hitting Michael full in the face. Even though he could not register the pain such a kick would have caused, it did throw him slightly off balance, allowing Sister Catherine the chance to twist her trapped foot from his grip. With part of her Achilles tendon torn from her ankle, she knew she would never be unable to stand upright to face him, but if she could just drag herself to the range she could use the metal poker as a weapon. Even if he continued to feast upon her as she made her way across the floor, she knew this Dead man, that she refused to think of as Michael anymore, must never leave this room. Sister Catherine certainly made a valiant effort. Throwing herself across the floor, she was almost halfway to the range already but the Dead man would not just let his meal crawl away from him. Pouncing onto her back, he t
ore at her clothes with manic desperation to get to the covered flesh. Sister Catherine had barely reached the base of the range before strips of her flesh were being ripped greedily from her back, exposing glistening muscle and bone, unnaturally to the world. Screaming uncontrollably and knowing now that her attempt had been fruitless, Sister Catherine hardly noticed when the Dead man slumped forward on top of her, lifeless. Imran pulled the hunting knife out of the side of Michael’s head and gently pushed him off the ravaged and blood covered Sister.

  ‘Oh my God, Sister Catherine! I’m so sorry! I came as soon as I heard your screams,’ Imran said, not knowing what to do for the best.

  If Charlie were here, he would perform the task but Imran did not know if he had it in him to take the life of the woman lying before him.

  ‘Imran, please, I know what this means… ’ Sister Catherine said in a whisper, trying to form the words through the waves of pains wracking through her. ‘Can you take me to the Chapel before I die? Please Imran… Please.’

  Knowing what he should do, but unable to deny the woman’s last request, Imran bent down and gently collected her in his arms. No matter where he held her, she cried out from the pain.

  ‘You’re not going to die on me are you?’ he said looking down at the pale woman in his arms.

  ‘N...No,’ she forced herself to say, as another spam of pain shot through her when Imran’s arm touched her raw bloody back.

  Not wanting to waste any of the precious time Sister Catherine had left, Imran kicked open the kitchen door and began jogging through the corridors back to the Chapel. As he ran past room after empty room, he left a trail of Sister Catherine’s blood in his wake. When Alice stepped out of a room ahead of him, he briefly thought she was one of the Dead and realised he would have to drop Sister Catherine to protect himself.

  ‘No, Imran it’s me, I’m OK,’ she said, seeing the bleeding woman in his arms.

  Barely breaking his stride, Imran carried on running, thankfully now with Alice guarding his back. Coming up to the Chapel doors, Alice rushed ahead to open them and quickly checked none of the Dead were inside waiting for them. Imran followed swiftly behind. With each step, he could see Sister Catherine spasm with pain.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sister,’ he said as the Sister cried out while he propped her up against the communion rail as gently as he could, ‘You’re here now.’

  The nun was pale, too pale for Imran’s liking, it didn’t look like she would last long enough to turn just from the bite. If he had to guess he’d say she would die from shock and blood loss. Thankfully, Alice had one of the Convents guns, so at least Sister Catherine would pass on knowing she would not be coming back to feast on her friends. Not that that was much consolation for the woman, Imran was sure.

  ‘Sister Josephine!’ Imran called up to the balcony room. ‘I need you to come down, it’s Sister Catherine, she’s…’ Imran paused searching for the right word. He was sure Sister Catherine knew what the situation was but even so, he didn’t want to upset her further, ‘…hurt.’

  Almost immediately, Imran could hear the blockade in front of the small door being moved aside. When the Mother Superior threw open the door and darted to the weeping figure of Sister Catherine sitting on the floor, Imran could see the worry and fear in the old woman’s eyes. Nadine hovered quietly by the doorway, not wanting to intrude on the last personal moments the nuns would share.

  ‘Oh my child…’ Sister Josephine said, taking the dying Nun’s hand gently in her own. Sister Josephine looked forlornly at Catherine’s torn and bloody back and knew there was no hope. With tears in her eyes, she looked up at Imran.

  ‘Thank you for bringing her here,’ she said. ‘I know you took a risk, you didn’t have to.’

  Imran could only nod a reply, nothing he could say would make this situation better for any of them. As blood began to pool around her, Sister Catherine slowly moved so she could face the crucifix on the Altar. The unbelievable pain made her cry out, but she was determined to face her Lord when she passed from this world. Sister Josephine removed her rosary beads and wound them loosely about Sister Catherine’s hands, first lifting the small silver crucifix to the dying nun’s lips for her to kiss. As the two nuns began to pray together, Imran and Alice looked at each other, knowing one of them would have to shoot Sister Catherine before she returned as one of the Dead. After a few minutes, Sister Catherine’s breathing had taken on a slow wheezing quality and when a prayer suddenly died on her lips, Imran thought her time had come, but with a sharp and obviously painful intake of breath she carried on again. Sister Josephine sat on her knees beside her friend as the life drained out of her and she prayed for the strength to do what she must. As Sister Catherine began to slump forward, Sister Josephine held out her hand behind her. It wasn’t until Alice walked up to her and placed the gun in her hand, did Imran realise that Sister Josephine would do the deed herself.

  ‘Catherine, my child…. Look upon our Lord,’ Sister Josephine said in a soft motherly voice.

  Using the last of her strength, Sister Catherine tilted her head up to the large wooden crucifix adorning the Altar. With large, tear filled eyes, she glanced briefly back at her Mother Superior and, with a small nod, she turned back to look at her saviour.

  ‘Go with God, my child,’ Sister Josephine whispered as she kissed the nun’s forehead before softly placing the gun barrel against the back of her skull ‘Forgive me, Lord.’

  With the sound of the shot echoing through the Chapel, Sister Josephine tore off her own veil to cover the damage the bullet had done to Sister Catherine’s face and holding the still form of her friend in her arms, she wept.

  By the time Sister Josephine could shed no more tears for Catherine, they had been joined by Sister Claire and those who had been out in the fields. As those capable of fighting made a search of the convent for more of the Dead or survivors, Sally and Nadine took the two nuns back up to the small balcony room to wait for news. When they had first arrived, Alice had had the sad task of taking Richard and Nicky to one side to tell them how Barry had sacrificed himself to save Justin. Nicky had held Richard as he mourned for the loss of his brother, but Alice could tell she was desperate to go to Justin. When the group had left the Chapel to make their search, Richard had insisted on going with them despite the obvious pain he was in.

  ‘I can cry all I want later,’ he told Alice, his voice breaking a little on the last word. ‘We’ve got to make sure we’re safe first, Barry would want us all to be safe.’

  To maximize their search, only one person went back on watch duty. It was the Dead inside they needed to worry about now, not the sad creatures drawn to the convent walls by the living inside. Not surprisingly, Damian volunteered to watch the wall, while the others systematically made their way room by room through the convent. They found Sister Margaret’s remains outside the gun room, a bullet through her half eaten face. Adrian’s body lay in one of the ground floor hallways with many of his internal organs missing, again a bullet had ended his unnatural existence. When they came across Michael’s body in the kitchen with Imran’s knife rammed deep into his skull, they also found Sister Rebecca and William hiding in one of the store rooms. They had locked themselves in only moments before Sister Catherine had darted into the kitchen and mistakenly chosen her own hiding place. They had wept silently as they listened to her agonising screams as Michael’s cadaver attacked her, ripping the flesh from her body. Knowing they could do nothing but wait it out and that no matter what they did, Sister Catherine was as good as dead the moment Michael found her.

  ‘Imran,’ Phil said, when he stepped up to the open doorway that had once been Michael’s bedroom.

  The room was a mess, blood seemed to cover most of the bed and floor and as they had already found the bloodbath in the Refectory it was assumed the blood here had been Michael’s. Mohammed’s decapitated body lay lifeless on the floor, his neck a mess of torn and broken skin and viscera. As Imran slowly made his way to the door, eve
n though he knew in his heart what to expect, he had not prepared himself for the carnage that had been committed upon his brother’s body. Michael, in what could only be thought of as an act of strange mercy, had somehow ripped his brother’s head from its body to prevent him killing anyone else. Even now, a head that had once been his loving brother, looked up at him with hunger in its roaming Dead eyes. Imran knew given the chance, this abomination would still bite into him with a savage hunger, even though it had no body to feed. Kneeling down in front of the head, Imran gently leant forward and kissed his brother’s blood splattered forehead. Through his tears, he then turned the head to face away from him as he withdrew his hunting knife from the sheath on his hip. With the knife held in his shaking hands, Imran placed the tip of the blade at the top of Mohammed’s skull.

  ‘To Allah we all belong and to him we will return,’ Imran said quietly, his tears falling freely. ‘Goodbye, my brother.’

  Tightening his grip, he took a breath to steady himself and plunged downwards, forcing the blade through his brother’s skull and into the brain.

  ‘Come away now Imran,’ Alice said, placing a hand on his shoulder, ‘the others will take care of Mohammed.’