Lanherne Chronicles (Prequel): To Escape the Dead

by Charlick, Stephen

  ‘Hmm…’ Charlie replied, walking past Tom to the only other door in the room, ‘let’s see what’s behind here first.’

  ‘Ready?’ Tom whispered, his hand hovering over the door handle.

  Charlie was about to reply when the creaking footsteps of Liz and David above them interrupted him.

  ‘Go for it,’ he finally said, as the creaking suddenly came to a stop.

  With a nod, Tom began to slowly turn the handle. Surprised that the door didn’t open, he tried again.

  ‘I think it’s locked,’ he said, looking back at Charlie.

  Sniffing, Charlie shook his head.

  ‘No, I think it’s just warped…,’ he replied. ‘Now we’re this side of the room I can smell the damp… can’t you?’

  Taking a sniff of the musty air, Tom began to nod in agreement.

  ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ he agreed, stepping away from the door. ‘I can smell it too now.’

  ‘Stand back, I’ll ram it open with my shoulder,’ he continued, slipping his sickles back into the channels on his back.

  ‘Just be careful,’ Charlie whispered, looking at the somewhat sturdy looking door, ‘and try not to break anything…’

  Tom gave Charlie a look of exasperation but then suddenly realised that he had meant broken bones rather than the abandoned clutter left behind by the previous occupant.

  ‘Try my best,’ Tom said with a grin, moments before he charged at the door.

  With a bang and high pitched screech, the warped door flew open under the force of Tom’s assault and suddenly scraped to juddering stop on the uneven and wet floor of the kitchen. Just like the front room, the kitchen was thankfully empty of the Dead and as the two men gingerly stepped through the doorway they could immediately see the source of the damp smell. Above a wooden kitchen table, buckled with damp rot and mould, the plaster of the ceiling sagged under the weight of the water constantly dripping though it.

  ‘Looks like the kitchen’s closed for business…,’ said Tom, picking up a grime covered teapot from a counter only to quickly discard it again when he saw the emaciated body of a mouse inside.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Charlie, his brow creasing as he looked up at the large dark stain on the ceiling.

  ***

  Above them Liz and David had carefully crept along a narrow hallway at the top of the stairs, mindful that the Dead could appear at any moment. Contrary to Charlie’s prediction there had actually been three rooms for them to check out on the upper floor. Two of the doors in front of them were closed, hiding their contents from them, while the third had been wedged open by an iron door stop to reveal a small sad looking bathroom. Finding nothing inside but a happy colony of spiders, they moved onto the first of the mystery doors.

  ‘Ready?’ mouthed Liz, as they stood outside the first of the closed doors, her hand hovering over the handle.

  Nodding, David stepped back to give Liz some room and waited. With a soft click the lock released and Liz gave the door a gentle shove. Silently sweeping over a threadbare carpet, its pattern almost hidden beneath the thick layer of dust, the door opened to reveal a small shadowy bedroom.

  ‘Empty…’ Liz whispered, releasing the breath she had been holding.

  With only a single bed and an old looking bedside table with a dusty lamp on it inside the room, there was nowhere for the Dead to hide so Liz stepped confidently forward to look at something that had caught her eye.

  ‘Watch the other door,’ she whispered to David, as she walked over to the small window to push aside the faded curtains.

  With a sheet of rain suddenly drumming against the window, she couldn’t help but smile when she noticed Phil still standing guard over the two carts, his heavy club resting over his shoulder ready for action. Turning back to the small bedroom, Liz went to the neatly made single bed and picked up the envelope that had been placed quite purposefully leaning against the two floral print pillows.

  ‘What is it?’ asked David, looking back to Liz for a second.

  ‘Well whoever Judith is, I’m guessing she’s not coming back to read it…,’ she mumbled, reading the name written on the front.

  Placing her sword down on the bed, Liz ripped open the envelope and read a stranger’s last words to someone they loved.

  ‘Dear Judith,’ Liz read to herself, ‘I know you said you and Graham may pop down today with the girls but John from Fairway Farm turned up at my door half an hour ago saying he’s been attacked by some mad woman. For a moment I thought he was pulling my leg, you know what he’s like, but then I saw his hand and a right bloody mess it was. Crazy cow had taken a nasty chunk out it and that’s not the worst of it. She bit it right out with her teeth, John says… and then ate it too! Can you believe it, Judith? I was about to take him to hospital but now there’s reports on the news telling people to stay away because of the riots. I bandaged it up but the poor bastard’s still looking very pale…’

  There was an obvious break in the flow of the writing at this point and what followed had clearly been written in a more urgent and scribbled hand.

  ‘The news on the telly is getting worse and worse all the time, Luv. I’m not too proud to say your old dad’s a bit scared. I just thank God that you’re there with Graham. He’s a good bloke and will look after you and the girls, I’m sure of it. In case you do manage to get here, I’ve taken John down the down the road to the Shrank’s farm. Elsie Shrank just called, they’re ringing round to gather people so we wait out whatever this thing is together. I’ve packed up some food and stuff and I’m about to leave… John’s still no better and now his breathing’s got really chesty. I think he may be going into shock. Anyway Luv, give the girls a kiss from their Grandpa for me and I’ll see you and Graham soon… take care, I love you lots. Dad.’

  ‘What does it say?’ asked David, watching Liz refold the letter and put it back in the envelope.

  Dropping the envelope back down on the bed, Liz looked back at David.

  ‘Just the usual…,’ she said, picking up her sword. ‘Come on, let’s check out that back room now… but I got a feeling nobody’s been home for quite some time…’

  Hearing the sound of a door being forced open below them, Liz and David walked along the narrow corridor to the final closed door.

  ‘Is it me or is it colder here,’ whispered David. ‘Can you feel it?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Liz replied, wondering why this end of the landing would be so much colder than the front.

  It wasn’t until she moved her free hand towards to door handle that she felt the cold draft whistling through the gap between the door and its frame.

  ‘I think a window must be…’ she grunted, as she pushed with her shoulder to force open the door that had obviously warped out of shape, ‘open.’

  With her last word, the board running along the base of the door splintered and cracked, allowing the door to finally swing open. Although Liz had been right about the room being empty she had only been partly right about the source of the draft. In fact an open window wasn’t to blame at all but rather its total absence together with that of a large patch of the roof above it. A second tree, this time planted in the rear garden of the house, had at some point succumb to the gales that swept across the moors only to crash through the window, taking a section of the roof down with it.

  ‘Christ, what a mess,’ said David stepping into the room.

  ‘I suppose we could always just use the front rooms,’ he continued to say, scratching the bridge of his nose as he took another step across the wet bare floorboards.

  ‘Hmmm?’ said Liz, only half listening as she looked down at the rotten piece of wood that used to be attached to the bottom of the door.

  Suddenly a realisation hit her and looking up she opened her mouth to speak.

  ‘I said…’ David began, turning to look back at her.

  And then with an almighty crash he disappeared through the rotten floorboards, plummeting to the room below.

  ‘David!’ Liz sc
reamed, desperate to rush forward.

  Stopping herself just in time, lest she follow him through the floor, Liz turned and ran back along the hallway to the staircase. Taking the stairs two at a time, Liz almost threw herself through the living room doorway and darted toward the kitchen door. Skidding to a stop, she felt her stomach suddenly plummet.

  ‘No…’ she said, the word escaping her lips in barely a whisper.

  Lying crumpled on a mass of rotten wood, was David.

  ‘Get Phil!’ shouted Charlie, kneeling next to David.

  But Liz was frozen in place, unable to tear her eyes away from the bloody shard of wood sticking through David’s stomach.

  ‘Liz!’ Charlie shouted again, finally shaking her from her shock. ‘Get Phil! Hurry!’

  Slowly Liz nodded her understanding and with heavy tears already forming in her eyes, she turned and ran for the front door. Exploding out into the rain, Liz ran past the large twisted oak and as she neared the swinging gate, Phil turned to look at her, smiling.

  ‘Hey, done already,’ he began to say, the words trailing off to a whisper as he took in the look on Liz’s face.

  ‘Phil…’ she managed to say, the single word almost lost amid the raging wind and rain.

  But Phil didn’t need to hear anymore, he was already running and as he sprinted past her she heard him choke back a single word over and over.

  ‘No, No, No No…’

  Standing there in the rain, a mix of fear and grief battling inside her, Liz covered her mouth with her hand. She needed to keep control of this wave of grief that threatened to erupt from her, for now at least. No matter what had happened, the carts must still be protected. Shaking herself, she coughed back the sobs dancing at the back of her throat and ran over to the first of the carts.

  ‘Michael! Cam!’ she cried, banging loudly on the hatch door.

  With the sound of a bolt being drawn quickly across, the hatch opened. Michael and Cam’s resigned faces looming from the shadows to greet her.

  ‘Who?’ Cam simply said, instantly knowing the worst had happened. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘D… David,’ Liz replied, her gaze instinctively flicked to Anne’s wide scared eyes.

  ‘Fuck!’ growled Michael, shaking his head.

  ‘Christ, poor Phil…’ added Cam.

  There was not a single person alive that did not know the pain of losing those that they had loved. But to find love now, in this world full of death, only to have it so pointlessly snatched away seemed almost cruel by comparison.

  ‘We’ve got it covered out here,’ Cam continued, knowing Liz would want to be with Phil. ‘Come and get us when… well, you know…’

  Wiping away a heavy tear running down her cheek, Liz gave a sad nod.

  ‘Th…Thanks,’ she said, her breath shaky with loss.

  ‘I’ll be back soon,’ she continued, her tearful gaze settling on Anne cradled under Carmella’s arm, ‘I promise…’

  But even as she said the word, Liz knew no safe return could be promised, not any more. The world had fallen apart around them and their lives were now but fragile things, teetering each day on the edge of existence.

  ‘Take care of them…’ she finally said, her gaze returning to Cam and Michael.

  With that she turned and ran back to the house.

  ***

  ‘Don’t you dare fucking leave me…’ said Phil, cradling David’s head in his lap, ‘you hear me… don’t you fucking dare…’

  ‘I… I… I don’t think I’ve g…got much ch… choice…’ David panted, blood flecking his lips with each word.

  ‘You’ll be fine… you’ll see,’ whispered Phil, his nervous fingers gently brushing a curl of David’s dark hair from his eyes. ‘We’ll get you out and you’ll be fine…’

  With pain in his eyes, David slowly shook his head, causing a heavy tear to roll across his cheek and down to his ear.

  ‘N… not this t…time, darling,’ he whispered, slowly moving his shaking hand to touch Phil’s face, leaving it streaked with his blood.

  ‘No…’ Phil cried, his own tears dripping from the end of his nose. ‘Don’t leave me… please don’t leave me, David… you can’t go… I… I love you…’

  ‘An…and I love you… m…more than you c…could ever know… Ph…Phil. You…you’ve got to p…promise m… me… something…’ David began, his voice urgent but barely a whisper.

  David’s words suddenly stopped with a sharp intake of breath as a spasm of pain shot through him. Fearing their time had run out, Phil grasped David’s hand and held it gently to his lips, clenching his eyes tightly closed.

  ‘P…Promise me…’ David finally continued, the wave of pain momentarily subsiding, ‘Ph… Phil, you’ve g…got to promise me…’

  ‘What? What is it?’ Phil asked, staring deep into the beautiful eyes of the man who had unexpectedly made his life in this hellish world worth living.

  ‘Y… You can’t g…go cr…crazy…’ he continued, his face contorting as he was hit by another wave of pain. ‘Th…they need you, Phil… You…you’ve got to k…keep it together…. keep them safe… p…promise me, Phil… f…for me… promise… you’ve got t…to promise to keep them safe.’

  ‘I… I promise…’ whispered Phil, his free hand gently stroking David’s hair, ‘I’ll…’

  But the words faltered in Phil’s throat as he noticed David had become still.

  ‘David…’ he whispered, his fingers trailing down the side of the young man’s now lifeless face.

  Choking on the unbelievable pain that suddenly twisted about his heart, Phil could feel his grief about to consume him. He felt it wash over him, ripping and tearing into him like a storm of fire and needles. With a cry filled with both rage and loss, Phil freed David from the large shard of wood piercing him and clutching his lifeless body to him, allowed his pain to swallow him whole.

  Behind him, Liz buried her face in Charlie’s chest and wept. For a few moments all she could feel was her burning grief and the soothing parental comfort of being held in Charlie’s arms and then she felt Charlie begin to tense against her. As if almost subconsciously, the muscles in his arms and legs seemed to be preparing to burst into action and then she realised why.

  ‘Phil,’ he said, his tone full of calm understanding. ‘Phil, do you want me …’

  ‘No!’ Phil wept, turning a tear streaked face to Charlie. ‘No, I’ll do it… I’ll do it, Charlie… I owe him that much…’

  Stepping forward Tom briefly placed a comforting hand on Phil’s shoulder and held out a long sharp hunting knife in the other. Slowly Phil’s fingers closed about the handle of the knife. Looking from the sharp blade to the face of the man he loved, Phil knew this was the last act of love he could do for David. This was the final gift he could give him, the gift of a true death.

  ‘I owe you so much more…’ he continued, looking down at David’s limp body in his arms.

  Holding the knife in his left hand, its blade hovering just by David’s left ear, Phil leant forward to say one final goodbye.

  ‘I… I will always love you… you beautiful man,’ Phil whispered, his lips brushing softly against David’s forehead.

  Then with a shaky breath shuddering through him, Phil pulled the knife sharply towards him, ripping into David’s skull with a ‘crack’.

  ‘Oh, Phil,’ wept Liz, slowly stepping away from Charlie.

  Kneeling down she gently placed her arms around the large man’s shoulders and leant her head against his back as the sobs shook through him.

  ‘I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…’

  ***

  ‘How’s he doing?’ asked Sally, standing with her arms folded as she looked out through the kitchen window at Phil.

  ‘His world’s just been ripped apart,’ said Liz, unable to take her eyes from the broken man sat by a rough open grave. ‘How do you think he’s doing.’

  ‘Sorry, I just…’ began Sally, pushing herself away from the sink.

  ‘
No, sorry… I’m sorry, Sally. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,’ interrupted Liz, realising there was no point taking her grief out on Sally. ‘I… I just hate seeing him like this, you know…’

  ‘Yes,’ Sally replied, turning to look at Phil’s hunched over bulk barely visible in the dark evening shadows, ‘I know…’

  Phil, despite offers of help, had insisted on digging David’s grave by himself. He had taken a shovel to the soft wet earth in the back garden, using the task to take his mind off the terrible pain that twisted about his heart and with each spade of mud he plucked from the ground the pain seemed to weave itself into the core of his being. His loss was part of him now, part of who he was and he could no more separate it from himself than he could stop the beating of his own heart.

  With the grave finally dug and David’s body lying in it, wrapped in a sheet found in a linen cupboard, Phil had but to start filling in the grave to make his goodbye complete. But as he sat in the rain with mud streaking his bare chest and arms, he simply could not make his hands pick up the shovel again to perform this final task. To do this made the nightmare real. It made David’s death something solid and tangible, something he could never escape from, something that would be with him forever.

  Liz chewed anxiously on a finger nail as she watched vigil over Phil. Behind her she could hear the hushed tones of the others talking softly in the living room while the logs burning in the wide stone fireplace crackled and popped. When a sheet of rain suddenly drummed against the small cracked window in front of her, an involuntary shiver ran through her. Looking at Phil sat bare chested and covered in mud Liz made up her mind to act.

  ‘I don’t care what he said…’ Liz began, turning to quickly grab the crumpled pile that was Phil’s jumper and jacket, ‘he shouldn’t be alone, not now…’

  ‘Liz…’ Sally began.

  But it was too late, Liz was already out through the back door and making her way over to Phil. With the bundle of clothes held tightly to her chest, Liz stepped gingerly through the small back garden littered with old lawnmowers and broken plant pots.