Killing the Dead (Book 8): Dark and Deadly Land

by Richard Murray

  “Feral,” Pat snarled as he pointed to the pebbled banking to the right.

  It stood still and watched us pass, torn clothing hanging from its thin frame. Dark gouges covered its pale flesh, old wounds that were as close to healed as a zombies flesh ever could. It seemed for all the world to be judging the distance between the banking and the boat.

  Another zombie pushed against it and without taking those dead eyes off of us, it swiped at the other creature, tearing rotted flesh away from its cheek. I felt a shiver run through me as its eyes met mine.

  Then we were past, the river widened and Toby manoeuvred to the centre, as far from either bank as we could get. Along the banks, they followed us until some barrier or other stopped them. I couldn’t see the feral and that terrified me more than it should.

  “Everyone ok?” Cass asked and a chorus of assents came from the others. I answered the same, afraid to say more.

  I’d faced the living and the undead before and been fearless. Something had been different this time and for the life of me, I couldn’t say what it was. I knew that I had to figure it out before the next time or I’d be putting one of my friend’s lives in danger.

  In the apocalypse, hesitation would kill you.

  Chapter 5 - Ryan

  After the slightly interesting stretch of river around Ambleside, things seemed to quieten down. We made good time and any zombies we encountered were fleeting. Merely a few moments for them to notice us and turn their heads before we were past. It was insufferably dull.

  Lily had lapsed into a moody silence and I suspected she had something on her mind. My one brief attempt to ask her what was wrong was dismissed so I left her to it.

  At some point, the others seemed to feel comfortable enough to let down their guard and converse amongst themselves. Once again the talk was much about what they hoped to find at the end of our journey and the repetitive chatter about what they missed from before. I tuned them out and watched the world go by.

  We travelled along the river, slowing occasionally when the need arose to avoid some floating debris. Once we passed a body that was face down in the water. From the looks of it, the man had been killed by something other than the undead since he hadn’t turned. Toby refused to stop to let me look properly and the others agreed with him.

  As mildly interesting as that was, the rest of the journey was interminably boring. I had few causes to draw my knife and no cause to use it. By mid-afternoon the river we were following opened out into a small lake. Barely two hundred and fifty metres in width and twice that in length.

  The ground around us changed as we entered the mountainous regions, the hills becoming great peaks that towered above us on either side. Our journey across the lake was as swift and as dull as the rest of the journey and then we were back on a river.

  We passed a small village Toby said was called Grasmere and I had high hopes for some more excitement, but we passed it by uneventfully. Like Ambleside, its only occupants were the undead, the living having long since lost the fight.

  As the day wore on, Lily still remained tight lipped and I had a rather urgent need to relieve myself. Toby insisted on not stopping and told me quite bluntly to “piss over the side of the boat.” He was beginning to irritate me.

  By the time the light of day was fading as the evening beckoned, we entered the glacial valley that was home to the Thirlmere reservoir. According to our guide, Toby, the six-kilometre long reservoir ran roughly south to north with a dam at the northern end and an aqueduct that supplied water to the rather large city of Manchester.

  It was bordered on the east by the A591 road which we could clearly see had become a major thoroughfare for the undead in the area. We had travelled around twenty miles from our island home and were roughly half way towards the end of the Lake District itself.

  “This is as far as I go,” Toby announced. His words cutting through our contemplation of the Shamblers’ on the road.

  “We’re supposed to walk along with them?” Gregg asked with a gesture to the road.

  “Can’t take the boat past the dam,” Toby said solemnly. “Can drop you on the west side, away from them creatures.”

  He turned in his seat and pointed to the high hills to the west, “It’ll be a hard trek but you can cross those hills. At the other side, you’ll have a small road that leads to Keswick. Cross that road, skirt the lake beside it and travel straight west over the hills. Once past there you’re out of the Lakes and headed to the coast.”

  “Thought we were headed north,” Gregg said.

  “That’s where all those zombies are headed,” his sister said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

  “So west then,” Lily said. She shook her head as though shaking clear dark thoughts and looked the way he was pointing. “Steep climb, won’t be easy.”

  “I’ll drop you about half way along the lake,” Toby said. “If you travel almost straight west from there you’ll come to a tiny cluster of homes by a body of water. You can rest there.”

  “You’re suggesting we travel through the night?” Becky asked.

  “Aye, no zombies up there. Sides are too steep for them to climb so not worth it.”

  “Sooner we go the quicker we’ll be there,” Pat said and silence fell once more.

  In short time, we were out of the boat and pulling on our backpacks. The weight was unusual and I was fairly certain the straps would chafe before long. My biggest concern was range of movement if we were attacked. I needed to be able to fight while wearing the pack.

  We set off after a brief farewell to Toby. The valley sides had plenty of walking routes between the pine trees that covered those ancient slopes and arduous though it was, the trek was zombie free.

  It was one of those things about the zombies. They would always take the simplest route given a choice. Their balance wasn’t great and usually, when they set off walking they would keep going until something caught their attention or the going got difficult.

  They didn’t seem to recognise barriers such as walls and fences as something they needed to walk around. They would push come up against it and stop unless they were part of a pack that would just keep on pushing them from behind. When it was impossible for the larger group to keep moving forwards they would spill out to either side and begin to wander in other directions.

  Much like a spear, once launched they were unwavering until they hit a target they couldn’t push through. Since most zombies were created from the death of a living person, they tended to begin their life in the towns and cities. Those built up areas where people congregate.

  That meant that when they moved outwards, they tended to follow the roads more often than not. When they came to places such as the Lake District where the roads snaked around the hills and mountains, they would continue on those roads unless something drew them away.

  This, of course, meant that the higher up we went into the hills and mountainous places, the less of them we would see. Which also meant my little group of friends and Becky were rightly not expecting any danger which seemed to give them leave to ‘chat.’

  I ignored it as best I could as we climbed the slope, eyes out for any danger that I hoped would be lurking in the trees. Once past there as night had fully fallen, we were in the heather covered hill tops with little to see in all directions but the mountains to the east behind us and south-west.

  The last vestiges of winter still seemed to be clinging to the barren rock studded landscape and I finally sheathed my knife and stuck my hands in my pockets for warmth. The group’s conversation had quietened as we walked and I was grateful for the peace.

  “How high do you think we are?” Gregg asked breaking that fragile silence.

  “High,” Pat said.

  “But how high?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “To me it does.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to know.”

  “Very high the
n,” Pat said as Cass laughed quietly at her brothers growing irritation.

  Lily who had been walking alongside Cass shook her head in bemusement and increased her pace until she was even with me.

  “You doing ok?” she asked as our friends continued their argument. “You’re quieter than usual.”

  “Fine,” I replied tersely.

  “Sounds like it,” Lily said with a smile that I could just make out in the darkness.

  “Might be worth turning a torch on,” I said.

  “Can see well enough at the moment and the light will show for miles up here,” she admonished gently. “You know that.”

  “Suppose so,” I said.

  “You should join in the conversation.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re such a great conversationalist,” Becky interrupted which prompted a frown from Lily.

  “I see no need for empty chatter,” I retorted and she laughed.

  “What a surprise darling.”

  “Not sure what she means,” I said to Lily who shot a look back at the other woman that I couldn’t read.

  “Ignore her,” Lily said.

  I shrugged and continued walking. Becky was perhaps making fun of me, I could occasionally recognise that at least. I’d been subject to mockery before and when I did recognise it, found it quite interesting.

  Much of the normal human range of emotions were lost on me. I could admit that and since becoming close with Lily, I had been actively trying to understand it better. It seemed important to her at times that I understand such things and even participate.

  “Will do,” I agreed which seemed to please her.

  As the chatter continued, I tried to pay more attention to what they were saying and more to the point, the underlying meaning. It wasn’t long before a headache began to form and I admitted to myself that I just didn’t ‘get’ it.

  The night wore on and to my dismay, we had no encounters or excitement of any kind. It was well past midnight by the time we reached the far end of the hill and paused to look down into the dark valley below.

  “Is that a light?” Cass asked breathlessly. She seemed to be especially weary and I wondered if it was because she was pregnant. She’s never seemed particularly unfit and had usually shown great stamina before.

  I decided to watch her and pay attention. My experience with pregnancy was non-existent but I had heard that it changed the people involved and I was interested to see how it did so.

  “Looks like it,” Pat said. His expression – what little of it that I could see in the moonlight – was intent as he stared down into the valley.

  “Friendly or not?” Lily asked.

  “Must be living people,” Becky offered. “Zombies don’t use lights.”

  “We’ll need to be careful,” Gregg said. “Take it one step at a … hey, where’re you going?”

  The last was whispered loudly to me as I descended the hill. Why the debate about who or what it could be? When you could go down and find out. If they weren’t friendly then we could kill them and if they were, then I would have to avoid doing so. It wasn’t that hard and for the life of me, I couldn’t grasp why they insisted on making it so.

  Each step on that walk down had to be placed carefully. A misstep would lead to a fall and at worst a broken ankle. Stuck out in the middle of nowhere with no medical aid and zero chance of making it back to the island safely would be a death sentence.

  Half way down I found a worn trail that I guessed the occupants of the hamlet below had used to hike the hills. It made the going easier and before long the others caught up with me. Each of them had their weapons to hand and I smiled in the darkness as my heart rate increased.

  A stone wall bordered and separated fields around the properties. Outbuildings of various size loomed up in the darkness and carried on the wind were voices of real living people. I headed towards the light.

  An open barn door revealed the source to be an old-fashioned oil lantern that had been hung from a hook on an old oak support beam. Animals could be heard shifting in the darkness and a man and woman knelt with their backs to us on the straw covered ground beside a black and white spotted dairy cow.

  They were talking loudly and hadn’t seemed to notice our arrival as they went about their task. As I stepped through the door the high pitched cry of a newborn animal sounded and a miniature version of the cow was helped to its feet by the man.

  Mucus and blood covered the creature that turned on shaky legs towards its mother. I admit that the sight of the newborn covered in its birthing fluid was not pleasant and that accompanying odour, less so.

  “Hello?” Lily called, apparently deciding they were not a threat.

  The couple turned in alarm and I got a good view of them in the lantern light. Both in their fifties with greying hair and weathered skin. She had the bright eyes and lines around her mouth that indicated she smiled often. He already bore a frown and looked to one side where a shotgun had been left to rest beside a bale of hay.

  “What’d ya want?” the man asked, his voice heavy with suspicion. I pulled my knife from its sheath and edged closer to the shotgun. If he ran for it, I’d gut him before he got off a shot.

  “Please,” Lily said as she placed a hand gently on my arm. “We mean no harm. Truly.”

  “Where are you from dear?” the woman asked with a fearful look to my knife.

  “Windermere,” Lily said. “We’ve been holed up there for a few months.”

  “Then why’re you here?” the man asked. His gaze had taken in the weapons we had on display and his muscles tensed as he prepared to move. My lips curved into a smile as I silently willed him to do so.

  “We’re travelling towards Scotland,” Becky added. “Just passing through and we mean you no harm.” They didn’t.

  The older couple exchanged a look and something passed between them. That sort of silent communication that comes only from a great deal of time spent together. Finally, the man nodded though he looked less than happy about it. I sighed as I saw my chance for violence disappear.

  “Well then,” the older woman said. “You’ll probably be wanting a cup of tea.”

  Chapter 6 - Lily

  Jonathan and Mary Mason lived in a lovely four bedroomed farmhouse that must have been built at the turn of the previous century. Wooden gables and weathered oak beams as hard as iron formed the bones of the house.

  Their kitchen, slash dining room, was everything I’d imagined an old farm kitchen would be. Solid wooden surfaces with ample spaces for storage. Dried herbs hung from the oak beams and root vegetables filled every available space while photos of smiling children hung on the walls. They even had a walk in pantry.

  While Jonathan seated himself at the pine table, Mary filled a metallic kettle with water and placed it on the hob. Becky, Cass, Gregg and myself joined him at the table while Pat hovered protectively behind his girlfriend and my dear heart leant against the wall at a point where he could clearly watch the outside and internal doors as well as the rest of us, which he managed to do with a great deal of suspicion. He really needs to lighten up a little and start to trust people.

  We waited in silence as Mary went about making the drinks and her husband watched us with a suspicion that equalled Ryan’s. Our backpacks littered the kitchen floor and when I glanced down I saw we’d tracked mud in over the tiles.

  “Oh,” I said. “So sorry about the mess.”

  “Don’t you worry dear,” Mary said without barely a glance at the floor. “It’ll not be the first time they’ve seen mud.”

  “Is it just the two of you here?” Ryan asked, apparently deciding that now was the time to speak.

  “Aye,” Jonathan said with a glower that dissuaded further conversation.

  “Big house for just two of you,” Ryan continued and I winced. He needs to learn what tact is.

  “Our boys are all away,” Mary said. Her voice bore the strain of
one holding back some strong emotion and I half rose from my chair to go to her when Ryan spoke again.

  “Likely dead then. The other houses?”

  “Ryan!” I snapped just as Cass said the same. Pat glared at him while Gregg shook his head. Only Becky seemed unbothered by his remark.

  “It’s ok dear,” Mary said. “These are dark times and we all must be cautious.”

  “Cautious is one thing, tactless is another,” I said with a glare that had no effect on him.

  “You’re a couple are you?” she asked as she set a steaming cup of tea before me. It smelled divine and I lifted it in both hands, enjoying the warmth of the cup.

  “We are,” I replied and she nodded.

  “I have had cause to use that same tone on my Jon more than once,” she said. “In answer to your question young man, yes. We are all alone here. The other houses are empty of all but memories.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” I said with a quick look to Ryan that hopefully told him ‘this is how you do it.’ “How is it that just the two of you are here?”

  “Two of those houses are holiday cottages that we would rent out in the summer,” Jonathan said in his gruff voice. “The third was for our eldest and his family.”

  “They went to the hospital with Jennie, their daughter,” Mary said. She wiped a hand across her eyes before she continued. “Jennie had diabetes and they ran out of Insulin.”

  “It needed to be done,” Jonathan said almost defensively. “They had to try.”

  I could recognise the sound of an old argument that was about to be rehashed so I quickly asked another question, “You mentioned other children?”

  “Peter and Ross,” Mary said with a faraway look.

  “Pete was in the army,” Jonathan added as he looked down at the cup his wife set before him. “Ross was in college. We’ve heard nothing of either of them since the phones stopped working.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said as I reached across to lay my hand over his. He nodded and swallowed hard before he looked away. I pretended not to see the unshed tears in his eyes.