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

by Richard Murray

  “The last time I went to a B and B was on a getaway with an old flame.”

  “Will be a long time before weekend breaks are a thing again,” Pat agreed.

  “Do you think our baby will grow up in a world anything like the one we knew?” she asked as she turned her head to look up at her boyfriend.

  “I don’t know,” he said in a voice that was gentle and somehow sad.

  It was an almost voyeuristic experience to observe them in such an intimate moment, where they shared so much hope and worry for the future of their child. It took me more than a few moments to realise that before Lily, I wouldn’t have even realised that.

  That disturbed me. Further evidence of the changes she had wrought in me and I wasn’t at all convinced that I was comfortable with them. That roiling ball of darkness within me seemed to redouble its efforts to fight back against the spark of something she had managed to place there.

  “Here,” Lily said breaking the silence.

  Nestled between apple trees was a two storey building with skylights set into the moss covered grey slate roof and an abundance of ivy climbing the walls. An artful garden was looking the worse for wear through lack of tending and on the terrace beside the house, stacked patio furniture was covered with a tarpaulin.

  Rain ran down the windows of the range rover and steam rose from the bonnet as Lily killed the engine. We sat patiently, watchful for anything stirring at our presence. I pulled my knife and waited, hopeful for something to kill.

  When nothing materialised out of the rain, I glanced at Lily who nodded back before speaking to the group.

  “You guys wait here, we’ll clear it.”

  “Are you sure?” Pat asked.

  “No need for us all to get soaked,” she said.

  I climbed from the car and almost slammed it shut on the tail of the mutt as it darted out to stand beside me. It seemed incapable of taking direction and determined to go its own way. Maybe a little like me then, I admitted to myself.

  Lily just grinned when she rounded the bonnet of the car and saw the animal but thankfully didn’t say anything. She held her club in one hand and lifted the hood of her jacket with the other.

  “Put your hood up,” she said.

  “I like the rain,” I told her and flashed a grin. In truth, the feel of the cold rain splashing down on my head, running down my face was not at all unpleasant. Almost cleansing in a way.

  We crossed the lawn to the front door, our feet squelching on the lawn. The canine followed almost silently with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. I gripped the door handle and caught Lily’s gaze as she took up position at the opposite side of the door. Her eyes were full of doubt and something close to fear. She looked away as though aware of what I had been able to see and I wondered at that. The faint stirrings of a half remembered memory came to me and I resolved to chase it down later.

  Before I could speak she gestured me to go in and with a mental shrug, I turned the handle and pushed open the door. That it wasn’t locked was a good sign that I might get to kill something at least.

  She flicked on a torch, the strong beam of light illuminating much of the hallway we found ourselves in and I berated myself for not bringing one of my own. Too used to stalking my prey in darkness.

  A large patch of the hall carpet was stained almost black in the torchlight and a large impression had been made in the plaster of the wall with more stains around it. Something had collided with it hard and left a mess.

  Lily took the left side of the hall while I took the right. We approached the first door and I pushed it open to reveal an empty sitting room in disarray. Overturned furniture, pictures fallen from the walls to shatter and spread glass over the carpet.

  We moved to the next room, a dining room that was almost untouched and empty of threat. I reached for the handle of the final door and heard a low growl come from the animal behind me. I glanced back to see it staring at the door with its ears pricked and sharp teeth showing. Might not be totally useless then.

  I gave the door a shove and leapt through, my knife at the ready, only to slip on the water that covered the floor and collide with a damp zombie. My knife flew from my hand to slide across the wet tiles and disappeared into the darkness as I overbalanced and crashed to the floor, the undead creature landed on top of me.

  Withered hands beat at me as broken teeth in a rancid smelling mouth sought my flesh. I tried to push it away at the same time as disentangling myself and I had the sudden thought occur that I was about to die.

  Something vaguely dog shaped and covered in dark fur collided with the zombie on top of me, sharp teeth tearing at the rotten flesh of its throat. Freed from the burden of the undead I scrambled to my feet in time to see Lily smash the skull of a second zombie with her club. Her face wore such a look of panicked fear that I thought for a moment I was watching someone else.

  “Well that could have gone better,” I said as she looked at me with wild eyes, her chest heaving as she panted. The dog was standing over its kill quite proudly and stared up at me with a bloodstained maw somehow demanding a response. I smiled at her and said, “Good girl, Jinx.”

  Chapter 10 - Lily

  He was avoiding me. I was sure of it. He’d seen my fear and told me to get the others while he cleared the rest of the house alone. He’d essentially sent me back to the car because he couldn’t trust me anymore and he was right.

  Something was wrong with me. Ever since that night when I’d done what I’d needed to do to save my people, something had changed. I’d frozen in place when surrounded by the zombies when we were on the boat and just then, when he needed me. I’d hesitated.

  Everything had happened so fast. He’d skidded on the water that had blown in through the open window and made the kitchen floor slick. I’d seen him collide with the zombie and go down and… nothing.

  I’d seemed incapable of doing anything. Images flashing through my mind. The man barely out of his teens that I’d held down with a hand over his mouth to stop his cries waking the others as he bled out from the wound I’d made to his throat. The feel of the blood as it sprayed over me, the revulsion I felt as I took a life.

  The other zombie came towards me and I don’t know if I could have even raised my weapon to defend myself. Then Jinx had shot past me and leapt at the zombie on Ryan and the spell was broken. Much like I was.

  Now he could barely look at me. Keeping busy with other tasks, securing the house and avoiding me as much as possible.

  I sat on the bottom step of the stairs and was stared at that dark stain on the carpet. The others busied themselves with other tasks and left me alone. For an hour I sat and stared, trying to find some understanding for why I had panicked when I did. I’d not done that since the very early days of the apocalypse.

  Raised voices could be heard from the kitchen and surprisingly, the loudest was Ryan’s. I couldn’t hear what he said but I could guess. He’d be so disappointed in me. Our other friends would be telling him to come talk to me and he’d be refusing. I couldn’t blame him.

  A door slammed and all went quiet then shortly after I heard the engine of the car start up before slowly fading as it moved away from the house. I knew I should find out what was going on but in my heart, I knew it was Ryan leaving me.

  Cass brought a plate of food and placed it on the stair beside me. She smiled but didn’t speak before she went back to join the others. Didn’t know how to say I had let her down.

  I knew enough about myself to know that I was full of self-pity and despair. It wasn’t like me at all and I absolutely hated it but I just couldn’t shake it. Jinx came to see me at one point and rested her head in my lap. Of course, he’d left her behind too.

  Some time later, I was surprised to hear the sound of the car returning. I looked up as the front door opened and he was there, standing framed in the doorway. My love, my heart. He had a smudge of blood across his cheek and he grinned.

 
“How you feeling?” he asked much to my surprise.

  “Like shit,” was the most succinct reply I could make.

  “Understandable,” he said as he reached down to pat Jinx on the head. Apparently all it took was saving his life to gain some affection from him. “You ready to talk?”

  “You want to talk?” I asked and couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice.

  “I think you need to.”

  “What is there to say? I messed up, can’t do this anymore. That I’m useless to you now.”

  “Do you know what PTSD is?” he asked and I blinked up at him.

  “I’ve heard of it, soldiers have it.”

  “Not just soldiers,” he said as he sat down beside me on the stair. His leg pressed against mine and he took my hand in his.

  “Post-traumatic stress disorder can develop for anyone following a traumatic event,” he said before adding with a smile. “Which pretty much is the only way to describe the zombie apocalypse.”

  His smile was infectious and I returned it as I listened to him speak.

  “It’s different for everyone of course,” he continued though his smile seemed to widen at my own. “The most common symptoms are re-experiencing the traumatic event, anxiety, depression and so on.”

  I looked up at him and saw how serious he was about it and felt a stirring of warmth inside of me. I’d never seen him so… caring.

  “You think I have that?”

  “Lily, you are one of the most capable people I know. You care so much for the other people and work so hard to keep them safe, that when you had to do something so opposite to who you are, it left a mark.”

  My palms were starting to sweat and my breathing had increased as he spoke. I knew what he meant, I could see their faces still.

  “Take a deep breath,” he instructed as he saw my panic rising. “Orientate yourself in the now, focus on your senses. The sound of my voice, the touch of my hand, anything that keeps you present.”

  I sucked in a large gulp and held it for a moment before breathing it back out, I counted the breaths as I worked to keep them steady and even. I clung on to his hand, feeling every callous and mark on it, the roughness of the skin, the warmth of it and the feeling of comfort I found every time I held it.

  “Good,” he said. His voice soft and even. Calming. I could feel the anxiety fading, the images slowing, blurring and then fading back into that dark place they had surged up from. I opened my eyes, hadn’t even been aware I’d closed them and looked into his.

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s just the start,” he said. “You’re strong and I know you can cope. When you feel it coming on, the panic and the fear. Breathe, focus on the present, force yourself into the moment and it will get easier.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I told you my sister was a psychiatrist?” he asked and I nodded. “She was studying at university and living at home at the same time I lived there. You know of course about my own inability to understand so many emotions. Well, I studied her books. I read everything I could about the human mind and discussed it with her often.”

  “She was aware of your differences?” I asked with a surge of jealousy.

  “No. Maybe, I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “It was interesting for me and helped me form a persona that could pass a little scrutiny. I was able to fit in with others at school and afterwards because of those talks.”

  “PTSD was something she was working on in her final year, part of her degree. I remember it well because it was so fascinating.”

  “Fascinating?”

  “Yes, the idea that something could evoke such strength of emotion, such panic and fear. It was something I couldn’t really grasp at the time, the whole concept of nightmares.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’d never had one,” he said and I stared at him, nonplussed.

  “Never had a nightmare? Even as a little kid?”

  “No.”

  “All kids are scared of the dark or the monster under the bed.”

  “Not me,” he said. “Deep down fear comes from the idea of death. You’re scared that whatever is under the bed, lurking in the dark or whatever, will kill you or harm you. I didn’t care about that so nothing to fear.”

  “That’s bizarre,” I said. I was starting to feel a little more like myself.

  “Well back to you. I recall enough of the textbooks to be able to work through some of the coping mechanisms. Obviously, in the world we live in now, avoiding reminders of the trauma or avoiding doing the same thing that created the trauma can’t really be avoided. We can work on it though.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “Rhythmic exercise for one. Getting into the routine of exercise for maybe half an hour each day will help. Obviously regulating your breathing and grounding yourself in the present will help when you feel the panic build. Can do enough sleep but the healthy diet part is out at the moment. Talking about it will help though and one final thing, which you won’t like.”

  “What?”

  “Facing your fears.”

  “What do you mean? What will that entail?”

  “The event you had will no doubt have been when you killed those men back at the island. Am I right?”

  “Yes.” I concentrated on my breathing, just the mention of it was enough to set me off.

  “Understandable,” he continued. “Killing in combat where it is life or death is one thing. Murder, taking the life of another in cold blood is something entirely different.”

  I swallowed the lump that had seemed to form in my throat and tightened my grip on his hand. It must have been painfully tight for him but he made no complaint.

  “Given a choice, I will ensure you never have to do that again.” He said and I blinked to clear the tears that formed at the care I heard behind those words. “You will need to fight though, you will need to face the undead and your life will depend on you being able to react quickly and kill them.”

  “Yes,” I held tight to him as I fought back the images that were trying to invade my mind. “I will, I can do it, I swear.”

  “Then follow me,” he said as he pushed himself to his feet. His hand firmly held in mine, I was almost pulled up with him.

  He led the way outside towards the car parked on the road beyond the garden. Jinx followed along and I wondered what he intended.

  Thankfully the rain had stopped but the ground was still wet and beads of water covered the car as he led me around to the rear door. He pulled it open and I stepped back as I saw what was inside.

  “Where did you get that?” I asked as I watched the zombie struggle against its rough bonds. It wasn’t Feral but it was in better condition than those we’d faced in Keswick.

  “Walking along the road,” he said with a grin. “It resisted my attempts to restrain it at first but I finally managed to get it secure and bundled in the back.”

  “What are you wanting me to do with it?”

  He pulled his knife from its sheath and cut through the rope with one quick slice. He pressed the hilt into my hand as he stepped back from the car, eyes fixed on the zombie as it struggled to right itself.

  “Kill it,” he said simply as he pulled his hand from mine and moved away from the car. When Jinx began to growl he gestured to the ground beside him and called her name, a command to heel that she obeyed without pause.

  My mouth moved but no words would come as I watched the zombie fall from the back of the range rover and climb unsteadily to its feet. Images flashed through my mind but I focused on the feel of the knife hilt in my hand, the cold breeze that whispered over my skin.

  I willed my breathing to calm as it lurched towards me and I sidestepped its lunge and slammed the blade through the thin bone of its temple. It fell without a sound and something inside of me wanted to gibber in terror but I held it back, forced it down.

  “Well done,” he said. He seemed
pleased but wary as he remained out of reach of the knife I held, perhaps fearing that I would be angry with him. I was. Kind of.

  “I don’t like killing,” I said. “The zombies… I will do it because I have to but I hate the idea of taking another person’s life. I won’t do that again unless absolutely necessary.”

  “Lily,” he said and I looked over to him as he approached. His face bore no disgust nor disdain. His smile seemed genuine. “I don’t think I could love you if you were able to kill like I do.”

  My mouth fell open as he took me in his arms and I held him tight as I breathed in his scent, a smell that was so uniquely his that I could feel my tension draining away just by being with him.

  “That’s the first time you’ve said that.”

  “I know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “There’s a long way to go,” he said quietly. “No quick fix for what you’re experiencing but I’ll be there to help you.”

  The floodgates broke and I cried silent tears as he held me there in the dark. This! I wanted to scream at those people on the island who disliked him despite what he did for them, this was the man I knew that they didn’t know. The care he showed so rarely and only to me. The willingness to put in the effort and help me through my problems with no gain to himself but to make me feel better. This was why I loved him.

  “Let’s go inside,” he said. “The others are worried about you.”

  He closed the range rover’s door and led the way back into the house, Jinx following at our heels. He was right that it would take time but I felt that I’d taken the right steps and for the first time since I’d done what I had to, I felt more like myself.

  Chapter 11 - Ryan

  Cockermouth was another mausoleum. A bare husk of a town that was overflowing with the undead. My companions were almost palpably disappointed which actually managed to amuse me a little. The fact that they’d expected anything different was a sign they still had hope that this would all turn out well.