War of the Dead

by Richard Murray

  “What are the odds that not a single immune person has been bitten on the island?” I asked quietly.

  Gregg shrugged, but his brow furrowed as he thought about that. A rough estimate, after speaking to some of the few CDF troops who would speak to us, put the number at more than two hundred from Stornoway alone.

  The chances of none of them being immune was ridiculously low. Not even counting those from the other smaller settlements around the island, the number of people infected was ludicrously high.

  With the number of people settled on the isle, it was understandable that some would die. Suicide, accident, even murder were unavoidable considering the mental state of many of those survivors. Once they died, they would turn and no matter how vigilant, some would escape detection long enough to bite others.

  I knew, then, that there would be some people who would be bitten and need watching to see if they were immune. If they weren’t, then they would be given some measure of peace. But for so many to be bitten and not be seen again, it was disturbing.

  “Did the admiral ever say what they did with those Reapers?”

  “I didn’t ask,” I said and shook my head slowly. “Damn! I should have asked.”

  “Most likely, they would be taken to the same place, yeah?”

  “Here?”

  “Yeah. I mean, it makes sense. If they’re taking infected here, then why not the Reapers? Plus, it was a science type place so they would have equipment for testing.”

  “Some, I suppose.”

  A buzzing sound came to me and I looked around expecting to see some large insect in need of swatting away but Gregg grabbed my arm and pointed upwards. A hundred metres or so above the rooftops a drone was making its way across the sky.

  “Perhaps it would be a good idea to visit Charlie,” I said and he nodded, a smile forming on his face. “Her drones have cameras after all.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Well, while you do, I have to go and see our new boss.”

  “This, Shahid, woman?”

  “Minister Shahid, yeah,” I confirmed. “She has control of the CDF and it seems, has shut out the admiral.”

  “Are you gonna make nice or demand answers?”

  “Bit of both,” I answered with a grin that soon faded. “Not that I expect any real answers.”

  “You got the impression there’s something going on here?”

  I took one final look at the research buildings and nodded, slowly.

  “Yeah, I really do.”

  While the CDF troops had originally been trained by the royal naval forces the admiral had brought with him, it was clear that they were very much a civilian force and not trained military.

  If the admiral had been in control of the research facility, I highly doubted we would have made it as close as we had. The small woodland that sat between it and the town was an easy way to get close and yet there were no troops patrolling through it.

  Even so, I had left Lars and Kerry behind to watch our backs. A short walk through the trees and I waved away the salute of the younger woman. Lars didn’t salute, just stood with his back to a tree and his watchful gaze roaming the surrounding woods.

  “I want you two to stay here. Keep an eye on that place and let me know if you see anything.”

  “Like what, ma’am?”

  Kerry, bright-eyed and eager, it was all a bit exciting for her. The skulking around the woods, conspiracies and subterfuge. I felt a frown form at her wide smile turned my attention to Lars. He nodded solemnly, understanding what was required and giving me some peace of mind. He would keep her in check.

  “Anything at all,” I said. “Record it all and return to us in the morning. Be discreet.”

  “Ma’am,” Lars said with a salute.

  He was a navy man and more than capable. I had no doubt he would be able to run rings around any CDF troops that might go a wandering in the woods. I returned the salute and he pushed away from the tree, gesturing with a nod of his head for Kerry to follow him.

  They disappeared into the shadows amongst the trees and I wiped at the rain that was coating my face and hair. No doubt I looked a mess, damp and covered in mud. A quick glance at my watch, then a sigh as I realised I had little time to do more than rush back and get a change of clothes before my meeting.

  “Go see Charlie then,” I said to Gregg. “See what you can find out.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  His grin was infectious and I found myself smiling, though my heart was heavy. I gave him a quick nod as my smile faded and we walked in silence down the hill and back towards the town. We had cover all of the way which made it easier and told me much about my new boss.

  No one seemed inclined to question the state of our clothing as we made our way through the town towards the sports centre. The guards on the door saluted and once we were inside, I began to relax.

  Despite their strangeness and weird beliefs about Ryan, the people who followed him had begun to feel a lot like family. Each and every one of them moved with purpose, no loitering or lounging around, they were always busy with something, yet, even so, they would take a moment to pause and smile or nod a greeting.

  They spoke quietly, if at all, and they trained in the use of their knives, constantly. I had begun to notice that more and more of them emulated Ryan. His quiet way of speaking, his self-assurance, the way he walked and moved.

  But, more than all that, they seemed to genuinely care about other people. They were copying all the things about him that I loved, but they tempered them with their underlying empathy and compassion. With their care for others.

  Ryan did what he did, saving the innocent and killing the not so innocent, because he loved to kill and because he loved me and knew that I would want him to save them. His followers, they did it because they wanted to save those people, to help as many as they could.

  I could almost believe in what they were doing. Could trust that they wanted to build a world that would be worth saving. They had, in effect, sacrificed their own lives to ensure the other survivors didn’t have to. It was almost noble. Even if Ryan had started it to serve his own ends, it was becoming more than that.

  “You’re back.”

  Samuel stood with his arms folded across his chest, brows drawn down and eyes fixed on me. All of a sudden, I felt like a naughty kid about to be scolded by their father.

  “We are.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Out,” I said, a little defensively as I had flashbacks to my teenage years.

  “Is it just me or are we in trouble?” Gregg asked with a grin.

  “There is danger out there. You should not leave without an escort.”

  “She had me, mate.”

  Samuels' eyes flicked towards Gregg before returning to me. There was something dismissive in the way he did it and I could practically feel Gregg’s cheeks heating.

  “You will not leave again without an escort.”

  I stared, open-mouthed at him as I tried to order my thoughts. I was too surprised to be really angry but that soon began to change as his words sunk in.

  “Who the hell do you think you are!”

  My voice filled the large space of the room that served as entrance hall to the main body of the sports centre. Several of the nearby acolytes stopped what they were doing and looked our way, just for a moment before lowering their heads and hurrying on.

  “Did he tell you to do this?”

  Samuel just glared as I took a single step towards him. I brushed aside Greggs hand as he reached out to stop me.

  “Did he?”

  “No.”

  The reply was short, the admission seeming to be hard for him to admit.

  “Then what the hell gives you the right to tell me what I can and cannot do?”

  “If harm were to befall you…”

  “What? I can deal with anything that will…”

  I paused, hesitating as his gaze dropped for just a moment, long enough to
let me know exactly what he meant and what he wouldn’t say in front of others. I swallowed hard, licking suddenly dry lips.

  “His rage would be, impressive,” Samuel said softly. “Should anything happen to… you.”

  “Nothing will happen. We’re as safe here as we could be.”

  “There will be an escort with you whether you agree or not.” Samuel forced a smile, that didn’t quite touch his eyes as he seemed to visibly relax his posture. “They can follow along behind you or they can walk with you. Either way, they will be there.”

  “Two,” I said, knowing I was defeated. “No more than that.”

  “A full fist.”

  “No.”

  “Four then.”

  “Three.” I countered. “That’s final, and they don’t interfere with what I have to do. They obey my orders.”

  “Of course.”

  He bowed low and three black-clad forms stepped up beside me. I glanced at them, a scowl forming as I saw no more behind them. He’d anticipated my argument and been prepared.

  “Well that went well,” Gregg said as the other man spun on his heel and walked away.

  I gave him a sideways look and grunted. He knew better than to be grinning at least and had kept his face still.

  “Go to Charlie. I have a meeting to go to and won’t that be fun explaining my new bloody escort.”

  He did grin then, his smile wide and his laughter full of genuine mirth as he left me there, standing with my three guards doing their best to surround me. I held back a sigh and went in search of a clean uniform.

  Chapter 11

  I counted six of them, including the leader. Four men, two women. Each of them carried a rifle of some sort, mainly shotguns but at least one hunting rifle. Their postures, while not aggressive were not overly friendly and their weapons were aimed my way.

  Lank hair, skinny frames, a certain unwashed odour to them that I recognised. They were survivors but not exactly organised and if they had been in the town for any significant time then they would have been cleaner, or so I would assume.

  Their clothing was mismatched, dirty and well worn. The leather on the end of the leader’s boots was starting to come away from the sole and I couldn’t help but wonder how they could be in such a state.

  “Well then, boyo, let’s have it.”

  He looked back over his shoulder at his companions and grinned, revealing teeth in desperate need of a cleaning.

  “Think these ones are a bit slow,” he said, causing much mirth amongst his companions.

  I tilted my head as I studied them each in turn. I was fairly sure that they weren’t exactly warriors to be feared, but any idiot with a gun could get a lucky shot off. My biggest cause for concern was whether they were innocent or the damned. A mistake would be unpalatable.

  “Come on then. Tell us your name or we’ll have to shoot one of you.”

  That helped matters. A threat of violence seemed to indicate they would not be considered innocent by Lily. I could work with that. I glanced back over my shoulder and grunted a soft acknowledgement.

  My minions had spread out, their weapons in hand. None of them wore leather, just heavy woollen clothing that had extra layers sewn in to provide some extra protection. Nothing that would stop a bullet though.

  “Your name,” I said in a soft voice that cut through their mirth and carried to each of them.

  “I asked you first, boyo.”

  While that was true, I saw no real reason to answer. My minions, however, chose to respond.

  “We are the Dead.”

  “The what now?”

  The look of confusion on his face was almost comical. He scanned the six of us, seeming to notice for the first time that we all wore entirely black clothing, much like a uniform. He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he looked nervously at his friends. I began to wonder if their weapons were even loaded.

  “We are the Dead,” one of my minions repeated.

  “The fuck does that mean?” A scrawny woman with a weeping sore on her cheek demanded in a shrill voice. “This a joke?”

  “No joke,” I said softly.

  “What the hell are you?” the leader asked.

  “Judge, jury and usually executioner,” I told him with a smile as I gauged the distance between us. Not too far.

  He raised the pistol in a hand that shook and pointed it directly at my head. I allowed a slight smile to form on my lips, letting him know that there was no fear of him. Putting him off balance. Behind them, in the darkness of the supermarket, there was movement.

  “This is fucked up.”

  The speaker was a younger man with a mouth full of broken teeth and a raspy voice like that of someone who had been smoking for decades. His eye twitched as I looked at him and he glanced this way and that as though looking for an escape.

  I held back a sigh, pretty sure that it wasn’t a band of hardened raiders that I was facing and considered my options. In the darkness behind them, several black-clothed figures moved forward and I made my choice.

  Two steps forward and my left arm struck out, knocking the pistol to one side as the long knife in my right hand was thrust upwards towards the soft area beneath his chin.

  “Stop!” Jenny yelled and I yanked my arm to the side, the blade slicing across his jaw but doing little real damage.

  The red-headed leader, stared wide-eyed at me as he dropped the pistol. Behind him, knives were pressed against flesh and warnings issued. The rifles were dropped to the ground without a single shot being fired and I glared with annoyance at the fist leader.

  “There’s children, My Lord Death.”

  My eyes narrowed and redhead flinched as I gave him a hard look. All his false bravado gone as he realised I had complete control of the situation.

  “Children?”

  “Don’t harm our kids!” the scrawny woman shrieked, struggling against the hands that held her.

  I let out a sigh and lowered my knife, disappointment settling in my stomach as I realised there would be no death dealt just then.

  “Gather everyone up.” I gestured to a corner beside the door. “Sit them down there and we’ll have a real discussion.”

  As my minions moved the prisoners to where I had pointed, I reached for the pistol. It was old. Rust spotted the barrel and without evening opening it, I could see that the cylinder held no bullets.

  “Where did you get this piece of junk?” I asked the leader.

  “Museum,” he said and licked his lips nervously. “Few towns over. They had a world war two exhibit.”

  “Are any of the guns loaded?”

  “No, My Lord Death,” one of my minions said.

  He was checking each in turn before bundling them up and stacking them beside the far wall opposite. I couldn’t help but notice the way the red-headed man flinched whenever my minions addressed me with that ludicrous title.

  Two of my minions appeared from the back of the supermarket with three small children and one pre-teen boy who glared at us sullenly. The anguished tears of the parents of those children reaffirmed that they were no raiders, just more scared survivors.

  “Your name?” I asked the red-headed leader as the children were grabbed by their parents and pulled close.

  “Jason.”

  His tone was sullen, resentful and full of fear. No doubt he imagined all manner of unpleasant things were about to happen. I had encountered enough groups of survivors to know that there were greater horrors than the undead.

  “Tell me, Jason. Why are you here?”

  “Looking for food. Somewhere safe.”

  “Where are you from?”

  He glanced at the knife I still held, his hand going to the cut on his jaw and his eyes wouldn’t meet mine. I didn’t sheath the blade, knowing that it would be a useful tool to help him focus on giving me answers so long as I held it free.

  “Dundee.”

  My geography was not great, but I had the vague notion that Dundee was perha
ps a hundred miles or more to the east. Not a short distance when walking, burdened with children and fearing attacks by the undead.

  Most of the journey would have been mountainous terrain with hills and the occasional forest for good measure. Not an easy journey to make at all, but the highland terrain would have helped keep the undead at bay.

  “Are all of your… companions from there?”

  “Some. Others we picked up along the way.”

  “Okay, now tell me, Jason.” He looked up then, sensing the change in my tone and I smiled, which didn’t seem to put him at ease. “How have you survived?”

  He seemed confused at first, looking back at his group and struggling to come up with an answer.

  “I… we, what do you mean?”

  “Well. Did you scavenge homes? Fight the Scourge, the zombies, for scraps or did you prey on other groups? Was your party larger when you started? Did you sacrifice some to save yourself?”

  His eyes widened as I spoke and his head began to shake from side to side in denial as I listed each new thing.

  “N-no! We hid as best we could. Found a place by Loch Nell where we spent the winter. Living off of fish and what game we could find.”

  “What made you leave there and keep heading west?”

  “Food,” he said, simply. “When my Gilly passed, we knew we wouldn’t last there. Not enough food for us all and we kept seeing the zombies in the distance. More and more of em.”

  “You left then, in search of food and safety?”

  “Aye, yeah.”

  “Have you met any other groups like yours?”

  He shifted uncomfortably and his eyes dropped down towards his lap as he nodded. I didn’t need to ask how that encounter had gone, it was written all over him and loud enough that even one as dense as I was could read it.

  “Very well,” I said. “Today is a good day for you.”

  When he looked up, I saw little hope in his eyes. It was a look that I had seen many times before over the winter with every new group of refugees we had found.

  “Is there any food here?” I asked and one of the minions shook their head.