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

by Richard Murray

  At the moment, we were scavenging food from people’s homes and businesses. We’d maybe grow some vegetables and fish the rivers and lakes as well as the sea. Some point would come though where that scavenged food was gone and we’d need to be self-sustaining. How hard that would be without any farm animals, I couldn’t say. It was one more thing to add to my ever growing list of worries though.

  “Something up ahead,” Cass said sharply. I looked up to see a collection of houses. Less than a dozen, barely enough to be called a hamlet let alone a village.

  A mud-spattered tractor was parked on the road with a long trailer attached. It had somehow managed to tip over onto its side and blocked the road entirely. A faint trace of smoke could be detected when I wound down the window and leant out.

  The houses, once homes full of life and love, were empty and dark. Broken windows and smeared stains around the doors told a tale that was all too familiar. I couldn’t see beyond the blockage but even as I strained in my seat, neck craned in an effort to see, the smell of smoke was growing stronger.

  “A trap?” Becky asked, her voice betraying her nervousness. It was easy to forget she wasn’t really one of our group. She’d not faced the living monsters as we had. Not until those monsters had invaded our island home at least.

  I nodded and climbed from the van. A trap it may be, but we needed to get past somehow. We’d not seen any roads leading off of this one towards our destination so as far as we knew, the road we were on was the only way to go.

  “Keep the engine running,” I said in a low voice. “Anything happens, get out of here. Find another way or abandon the van and go cross country to find the guys.”

  “You sure about this?” Cass asked.

  “We need to get past.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Becky offered but I waved her away. No point us both getting captured if it was an ambush.

  On silent feet, I padded over to the overturned trailer, my feet splashing in the puddles. I hoped that the sound of the heavy rain falling would be enough to mask our arrival if anyone was waiting.

  I raised my head over the side of the trailer, just enough for me to peek behind to see the other side. In the shadowed doorway of a house to my right, I caught the gleam of a cigarette and guessed that whoever was supposed to be on guard was sheltering from the rain.

  Nothing to say they’re bad people, I told myself as I crept along the side of the trailer to the wall. I glanced back to see the van far back on the road, the sound of the engine a low rumble just barely audible beneath the sound of the rainfall.

  With a deep breath, I vaulted the wall to land with a thump in the field on the other side and pressed myself back against the wall, the rough stone scraping against my jacket. The house closest to me had a garden wall that separated it from the field I was in and someone had piled bales of hay alongside it. Either to block whatever they were doing from view or as a little bit more of a barrier to be overcome by anyone attacking.

  Since the undead were stupid at the best of times, I figured it was safe to assume it had been put up to stop them and not a live person since it took me less than a minute to clamber over and dash across to the house.

  No one had raised an alarm so I considered it a safe bet that I hadn’t been seen. I crept around the side of the house towards the back, away from the road and the smoking guard. I glanced in windows as I passed but the curtains were drawn.

  I’d made my way carefully through three different gardens before I got close to a house that had activity. A window had been opened and a thin plume of smoke, almost invisible against the grey skies, flowed from the chimney. Voices could be heard within.

  Careful not to make any noise that would be noticed, I did my best to move closer to the window. The voices were there, but just beyond intelligible. As I moved closer, the occasional word could be made out but any meaningful conversation was lost to me.

  My palms were sweaty and I tightened my grip on the handle of my club as I asked myself what the hell I was doing. The deep breathing that Ryan had suggested I do, wasn’t exactly working and at any moment, I was sure I would have a massive panic attack.

  This was a mistake, I thought and pressed myself back against the wall as a peel of laughter rang out, unmistakably feminine. I harboured a brief hope that the people wouldn’t be the monsters I feared. Then came the scream.

  It was the sound of pain and rage, fear and lost hope, a cry of someone begging for the release of death. I sucked in a great gulp of air as I pressed one fist tight against my mouth to hold back on the great hiccupping sobs that tried to force their way free.

  Someone needed help, needed rescue from whatever torments they faced. They needed saving from whatever they faced and I just knew without a doubt that I could not be the one to do it.

  Images flashed through my mind, the scent of freshly spilt blood filled my nostrils and I had to fight back the desperate urge to vomit. I clenched shut my eyes as the world spun around me and I felt as though I were suffocating.

  The urge to run was almost overwhelming. That need to get away, to flee from the sounds of pain that were coming from within the house. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t face it, and couldn’t possibly be strong enough to get through it.

  God help me, I screamed silently. I needed Ryan. He’d fix everything, he’d march into the house and tear them apart at the merest hint of a request from me to do so. He’d save the ones that needed saving and he’d do it with a smile on his face, for me.

  But he wasn’t with me. He wouldn’t always be there to hold my hand and do those distasteful tasks. I couldn’t ask him to always be the killer if I ever wanted him to just be the man I knew he could be.

  Suck it up, I told myself. The words sounded firmer in my head than they would ever be if I had the courage to utter them. No, if I wanted to build anything in this world once the zombies were gone, I couldn’t do so without having to get my hands dirty myself. I’d told him I never wanted to take another human life but one thing I’d learnt since the start of all this was that what I wanted meant nothing.

  I sucked in another lungful of air and mentally willed my heart to slow its frantic beating. It didn’t but it helped me take my mind away from those images I longed to escape. I focused on the drum-like beating that seemed to surround me and almost burst into tears once more.

  It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t strong enough. But you are. The voice in my head wasn’t mine. It belonged to blue eyes and a smile that was for me alone. I pictured him as I’d seen him just a few hours ago.

  Tall and strong with the lithe movements of an apex predator. No wasted energy in anything he did. A man who had never known anything but darkness but had shown me the light buried deep inside, who despite his distaste, was actually working to be a better person. If he could do it, so could I.

  With trembling legs I pushed myself up, back sliding up the firm brick wall. Another cry came from inside the house and I clamped down on any possible thought of backing out as I risked a quick look through the window. The barest instant to see what was happening but it was enough.

  A man and woman stood by a large pine table, a man slumped in a chair beside it, blood on his shirt and several fingers that looked to be broken. The only weapon I’d seen was a metal pipe and a claw headed hammer. No guns.

  I ducked below the window and headed to the back door. It was time to do something. Time to rid the world of a few more of its monsters.

  Chapter 21 - Ryan

  I skidded to a stop beside the low wall that ran alongside the factory yard. Pat was right behind me and dropped beside me with a grunt, face red from exertion. I risked a look to see Gregg waving at the sentries on the roof.

  The two men on guard stood together and waved back at him. A quick look to my left over the wall revealed a half dozen people armed with all manner of improvised weaponry leave the large red brick building. They set off across the field towards Gregg who had the good sense to r
un in the opposite direction as fast as he could.

  It seemed like the first part of the plan had worked. He’d wandered out playing the part of survivor looking for a place to stay and distracted the attention of the sentries which allowed Pat and me to make our way across the field unnoticed.

  “You think he’ll be okay?” Pat asked and I nodded.

  “Sure. He knows what he’s doing.”

  We watched the group run across the field for a minute before checking the sentries were still distracted. They were busy pointing towards our fleeing friend and laughing. I nodded to Pat and scrambled to my feet.

  Over the wall, through the bush with an inordinate amount of large thorns, across the yard that was more mud than anything else and we were up against the wall of the storage sheds. I would have preferred more time to assess the situation before rushing in, but we were on the clock.

  “Oh damn,” Pat said and grabbed my arm. I looked at him, saw his wide eyes and turned to follow his gaze.

  “Oh.”

  The first of the zombies that had been following us had apparently caught up. Making their slow stumbling way out of the trees where we had first spied the factory from. I let out a sigh. Now we really were on the clock.

  “It will take them time to make it all the way here,” I said. “They could also be a useful distraction and we can watch how this bunch deals with them.”

  “Maybe.”

  He didn’t sound convinced but there was nothing I could do about that. I just tilted my head towards the right and he acknowledged with a nod.

  A short walk to the end of the building and I peered around the side. No one was in sight, so I slipped around and moved on to the next. For the next ten minutes, we made our way from building to building. Cautious and slow, the rain helping to dampen any noise we might make.

  With a short dash to the rear wall of the factory, I felt a great deal happier. We hadn’t been noticed, Gregg should be making his way back around to us and in a short time, the sentries would notice the approaching zombies. Things were going as smoothly as they could then.

  The loud clunk of a door latch being pressed came just moments before a door opened halfway down the wall. A man and woman came out, each carrying a bucket of something that probably didn’t bear looking too closely at.

  Neither noticed us as they set off across the yard, walking quickly for all the good it would do them with the rain. I glanced at Pat and his eyes met mine, firm with resolve. I grinned.

  We dashed back across the yard to the nearest shed, our feet squelching in the mud. Around the side of it, pause at the corner as I checked to make sure we wouldn’t be seen and then along the side until we were stood right at the edge of the route the couple had taken.

  I risked a quick glance and saw them unlocking a rather large and robust looking padlock attached to a chain that was keeping the doors tightly closed. I gestured Pat to stay and dashed across to the opposite side of the narrow aisle between sheds.

  Whatever they needed to do in the shed took a good long time. It was nearly fifteen minutes before they left the shed, locking it behind them. I held up my hand and made a chopping motion, Pat responded with a thumbs up and I readied my knife.

  The couple came abreast of us and I reached out, my left arm going around the neck of the woman as I pulled her towards me. She opened her mouth to scream or cry out but not fast enough, my hand pressed firmly down over her mouth and I pressed the point of my knife into her back.

  Pat moved at the same time as I did, he swung the club with all of his strength, striking the man in the face. An audible crack was heard and blood sprayed out as the man collapsed to the mud senseless. He looked to me for confirmation and I nodded. With a pained look, he grasped the handle of his club in both hands and swung it overhead before bringing it down on the downed man’s skull.

  My prisoner squirmed in my arms, struggling to get free and let out an involuntary cry as she saw her companion brutally killed. I didn’t hold back my grin as I spun her around and pushed her back against the shed wall.

  I patted her pockets and did a swift check for weapons as Pat dragged the body out of sight. When I was sure she was unarmed, I held her against the shed with one arm pressed against her neck and held up the knife for her to see.

  “We have questions, answer them or this will be very painful. Clear?”

  She nodded and a so very familiar look of fear crossed her face as my heart beat faster, excitement growing.

  “How many in there?” I asked. Her eyes flicked from me to Pat but found nothing comforting there.

  “Fifteen.”

  “Aiden said they only had sixteen,” Pat said and her eyes widened at the sound of the name.

  “You know him?” I asked and she nodded. I pressed the tip of the knife against her cheek and exerted a little pressure. She took the hint.

  “Came with Ben last year. He ran off and took his sister with him.”

  Her voice had a nasal quality that I found especially unappealing. She wasn’t a native of the area that was for sure, sounded more southern. Essex or London way.

  “You’ve grown, this little group of man-eaters,” I said. “How many on guard? They all in the same area or spread around?”

  She gulped when I said man-eaters and the fear increased. I could practically feel it coming off of her in waves.

  “Micah and Jamie on the roof, that’s it,” she said with a stammer to her nasal voice. “Everyone’s spread out.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Cleaning, cooking, chilling… just, the usual stuff.”

  “I dread to think what they’re cooking,” Pat said and the woman’s eyes filled with tears.

  “We had to,” she said, her tone far too defensive. It always irked me how people seemed to feel the need to justify what they did. Just once I would like one of them to accept their nature and say ‘yeah, I did it because I wanted to.’

  “Where’s your leader, this Ben?” I asked.

  “Inside,” she said and stopped herself before she said something else. I pushed the point of the knife into her cheek, a red bead of blood forming as she winced. “He’s with the kids!”

  “Kids?” I said with a voice cold as that dark empty place inside of me.

  “Mary’s kids, he likes to do stuff before…. Before….”

  My knife sank up to the hilt into her side, up below the ribs as I aimed for her heart. My other hand pressed down on her mouth to stifle any cry and I stared into her wide eyes as she died.

  “No more questions then mate?” Pat asked.

  “Nothing more needed saying,” I told him and his smile faded at the sound of my voice. “Grab the other body and follow me.”

  He frowned but did as I instructed. He went to grab the man as I dragged the woman’s corpse through the mud towards the back door. Despite the chill wind and the rain, I was sweating from all the exertion and the exultation I’d felt as my knife slid into her flesh was spoilt somewhat by the knowledge that I had innocents in need of saving. Nothing is ever simple.

  The door wasn’t locked and pulled open easily at my touch. I peered into the darkened interior but saw no one nearby. Just a lot of pallets full of bales of something or other. Plenty of hiding places.

  Pat followed my lead as I dragged the body inside the doorway and left it propped up beside one of the pallets. Out of easy sight. He looked at me curiously as I gestured for him to do the same and then his eyes widened as I reached into my pocket.

  “The hell are those?” he asked but I just grinned as I pulled the cap off of the first syringe and pushed the needle directly into the largest artery I could find on the woman’s body. I pressed the plunger and the infected blood I’d taken from the Feral went straight into her bloodstream.

  I did the same for the second corpse and held the last syringe in my hand as I looked at Pat. I grinned and his frown deepened.

  “Blood from a Feral,” I said.
“With any luck it will work its magic quickly and these will make a fitting distraction.”

  “Where the hell did you get that?”

  “The ambulance had the syringes,” I said with a shrug. “The Feral I killed had the blood.”

  “What you going to do with the last one?”

  “I think that perhaps I can find something interesting to do with it,” I said. “Now let’s go and see if we can have a look around before these two wake up.”

  When the two corpses reanimated, I was pretty sure they would head towards the sounds we could hear that came from the other end of the warehouse. Unless the clatter of the rain hitting the roof didn’t distract them.

  A quick circuit of the warehouse, staying firmly in the shadows, gave me a clue about the basic layout. The warehouse was separated from the main factory floor by a wide opening in the wall with strips of plastic sheeting hanging down. A barrier to help keep the warmth on the factory floor and not be lost when the main metal shuttered warehouse doors were open to the outside.

  On the far side of the warehouse a set of steel steps led up to a second floor and what I suspected were offices. No light or sound came from up there so I guessed they were empty. I poked my head around the plastic strips for a moment and caught sight of a great deal of machinery, more bales of various materials and a group of people hanging washing up on lines strung between the machines. Towards the left-hand side were doors set into a wall and through the one that was open, I could see light. That would be their living quarters.

  Since we couldn’t go far without being seen, I climbed the steps into the offices that were suspended above the warehouse. The door swung open easily at my touch and we went inside.

  Pat remained by the door to keep an eye on the warehouse while I moved through the offices. There were three in total, all connected by doors set into the dividing walls. Whoever had the third office, would only be able to get to it if they went through the first two. I could only imagine how annoying that would be.

  A brief search turned up nothing much of interest. Computers that were no longer of any use, paperwork, files, maps of the country with pins stuck into them to mark cities where deliveries were to be made. All very dull.