Lanherne Chronicles (Book 2): Five More Days With The Dead

by Stephen Charlick

  ‘How’s your head?’ asked one of the soldiers, when he noticed Matt standing behind him.

  Matt froze, his hands clutching the water bottle tightly and turned to the man who had spoken.

  ‘Oh, okay… got a banging headache but better than Dave… he’s not woken up yet,’ he replied, consciously putting the water bottle down to pick up an MRE. ‘Doc says I’ll be okay for duty tonight.’

  ‘You better fucking well be,’ the soldier said gruffly, turning back to his own meal. ‘I ain’t freezing my arse off covering your watch.’

  And that was that, camaraderie was in short supply these days and at that moment, Matt was thankful it was so. Keeping a watchful eye on the two soldiers, Matt finally got the cap of his water bottle off and began to tip two thirds of the contents into the large plastic barrel. The remaining third, he emptied into the hot water urn. With the snow falling softly again outside, he knew the two soldiers who had already made up their MRE’s would make a hot drink before they bedded down for the night, so that only left the six men currently on watch in the Jackals to deal with. Matt knew they wouldn’t be off watch for at least four or five hours and that was time they simply didn’t have to waste. They had to be dealt with at the same time as all the others if they wanted any hope of escaping. Then with a flash of inspiration, Matt refilled his water bottle from the already doctored hot water urn and grabbed a handful of coffee sachets. Mixing up a strong brew and hoping the added Thiopental would go unnoticed, Matt left the tent and began making his rounds of the sentry Jackals, bringing with him the surely welcomed hot coffee for the soldiers on watch.

  ‘Phoenix, this is squadron Alpha-nine. Do you read me? Over. Do you read me, Phoenix? Over,’ the communications officer said into the small microphone held near to his mouth.

  ‘Well?’ Sergeant Blackmore said, looking at the solider as if it was his fault they were receiving no answer from the island base.

  ‘Nothing yet, Sir,’ the man replied, removing his earpiece. ‘The satellite’s orbit must be slowly decaying. This was our window yesterday and there’s still no contact from Alpha-eight at the power station. I’ll keep trying though.’

  ‘Yes, you do that,’ Sergeant Blackmore replied, bored of the man’s excuses.

  ‘Staff Sergeant Blackmore,’ Dr Avery said, standing in the doorway of the tent.

  As much as he hated to do it, Dr Avery saluted. He knew the man got off on making the doctors and scientists show him the respect he thought he deserved and Dr Avery knew now was not the time to rub Staff Sergeant Graham Blackmore the wrong way.

  ‘Yes, Dr Avery?’ Sergeant Blackmore replied, barely looking up from the printouts he held in his hand. ‘What is it?’

  Dr Avery was about to speak when Streiber and Hills, the SAS goons, entered the tent. Without even giving Dr Avery a glance, the two men gave sharp salutes to the Sergeant and stood at attention.

  ‘Ah, Hills, Streiber, south watch have spotted a rising smoke trail about a mile south east from here. Check it out,’ said Sergeant Blackmore to the two stony faced men. ‘We’re down on civilians, thanks to Private Blackmore’s little stunt, so go see what you can find. Use what force you deem necessary. We don’t have time to pussy foot around.’

  ‘Sir,’ the two men replied in unison.

  As they turned to leave, Dr Avery caught Streiber’s eye. The look that flitted across the man’s face sent a finger of ice to the pit of Avery’s stomach. There was something very wrong with these men, something almost gleefully psychotic and Dr Avery pitied anyone who had the grave misfortune to come across them that night. However, he knew he couldn’t think about that now, because he had to make what he was about to say convincing and believable. The last thing he wanted was for the Staff Sergeant to think anything odd was going on. If the Sergeant decided to go to the Med lab, their escape would be over before it began and that would mean a swift, brutal and probably fatal punishment.

  ‘Dr Avery?’ the Sergeant asked, wondering why the man still hadn’t spoken.

  ‘Dr Morris told me to keep you abreast of the situation regarding the test subject,’ he began. ‘The woman is now in labour but as it is her first, it might be some time before we can get the definitive results from the foetus.’

  ‘And?’ Sergeant Blackmore said, looking up from his papers, not sure, why the doctor was telling him this.

  ‘Dr Morris is concerned there could be complications and prefers to deal with the birth himself, so he won’t be able to make his report to Dr Farrell at present.’

  ‘And that’s what I tell Dr Farrell, is it?’ Sergeant Blackmore said, dropping the papers down onto a small collapsible table.

  ‘I’m sure Dr Farrell will agree,’ Dr Avery said, trying to look unfazed by the Sergeant’s tone. ‘This foetus and the potential it holds is too important to place it under any unnecessary risks, even for a few minutes. The results must be conclusive and absolute.’

  Sergeant Blackmore looked at Dr Avery for a few seconds, silently weighing something up in his mind.

  ‘Fine,’ he simply said, dismissing Dr Avery from concern as he turned back to his reports.

  For a heartbeat, Dr Avery stood motionless, unable to believe it had been that simple. However, knowing to get out while the going was good, he gave the Sergeant a quick salute, turned, and walked back to the Med lab as normally as he could without breaking into a run.

  ‘Well?’ asked Alice, nervously biting her finger nails.

  ‘No problem,’ Dr Avery replied, letting go of a long breath as he dropped down onto a chair. ‘Now we just have to hope Matt’s part goes as smoothly.’

  The two of them knew Matt had by far the harder task to perform. It would be no easy feat to dope the entire squadron effectively enough for them to escape and it only took one of the soldiers to notice something was wrong and the whole plan would blow up in their faces. But there was nothing they could do but wait and hope the Gods were looking favourably down on them.

  ‘What’s your name, Doc,’ Alice said quietly. ‘I mean your first name. If I’m trusting my life in someone else’s hands, I at least like to be on first name terms.’

  Dr Avery screwed up his face before speaking.

  ‘Colin,’ he said wincing, ‘but most people just call me Avery. It sounds less… you know.’

  ‘Less nerdy?’ Alice said with a smile, ‘Okay, Avery it is then…’

  Avery was just smiling back at her when the door to the Med lab opened and Matt walked in.

  ‘Done,’ he said placing the empty water bottle down on the desk. ‘Now we just wait, I suppose’

  ‘How long?’ Alice asked, her hand anxiously rubbing her stomach.

  ‘At least a couple of hours, perhaps three,’ Avery replied. ‘We want to be sure they’re all out.’

  ‘I want to leave them a little less well armed before we leave to even up the score a little,’ Matt added, looking up at a clock on the wall. ‘So to be on the safe side, let’s say midnight, agreed?’

  ‘Agreed,’ repeated Alice and Avery, knowing the next few hours would feel the longest in their lives.

  ***

  ‘How come we’re the ones freezing our nuts off checking out a smoke signal?’ Hills said, pushing aside a low hanging branch. ‘Why didn’t he send a couple of those pointless shits back there, they’d be no loss.’

  ‘Oh, quit your bitching,’ Streiber replied, scanning the surrounding bushes intently. ‘You never know, we might be able to have a bit of fun here.’

  The two men exchanged a look, because they both knew what ‘fun’ Streiber meant and it was usually at someone else’s expense. The two men had a knack for the sadistic, and the perverse pleasure they got watching their victims beg and squirm, only added to their enjoyment. Their skill at getting information by not so legal measures from terror suspects had seen them promoted within the SAS and then ultimately side lined for special projects that called out for their unique talents. When the Dead came, they saw a chance to thrive and enjoy
this new world order. Ditching their squad and taking with them Clarkes, a man with dark tastes after their own heart, the three men had set themselves upon an unsuspecting civilian population with relish in those first few weeks. Only the chance interception of communication between the base and the mainland on an army frequency alerted them to a new possibility. Realising that they could thrive there with no one to oppose them, they had made their way to the base and a new community for them to enjoy.

  Just then, a skeletal looking Dead woman stepped silently into their path, but unfazed, Hills simply smashed the woman in the face with the butt of his rifle, knocking her to the ground. Before she even had the chance to right herself, Hills stepped purposefully forwards and stamped down hard on her skull. With an audible crack, her skull collapsed under the weight of his boot and her blackened hands fell forever lifeless to her sides.

  ‘There’d better be some pussy there fresher than this bitch,’ Hills said, giving the still woman’s corpse a kick, ‘or someone’s going to have a really bad day.’

  ‘Yeah, come on, Casanova, sooner we get there, the sooner you can get your pussy,’ Streiber said, stepping over the woman’s body.

  For the next half hour, they slowly crossed the small golf course, dealing silently with any of the hapless Dead who happened to wander their way. Finally reaching the far side of the course, they found the source of the plume of smoke.

  ‘Fuck me,’ Streiber said, looking up at the large multi levelled tree house.

  Before them, the tree house, once a professionally constructed children’s adventure playground, had been transformed into a home well beyond the reach of any Dead hands below. Although all was dark and quiet in the tree bound fortress, smoke was rising from a less professionally attached chimney.

  ‘Hey!’ Hills called. ‘Anyone alive up there?’

  After a few minutes of silence, Hills turned to Streiber shrugging his shoulders.

  ‘Hello,’ this time Streiber gave it a shot. ‘Hello up there, we’re soldiers. There’s nothing to fear, we’re here to help. Our squadron is camped in the car park on the other side of the golf course. We’re here to take you somewhere safe’

  Slowly, after much whispering from inside, a wooden shutter opened, revealing a man.

  ‘You’re the army?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ Hills said in his most polite manner, ‘I’m Hills and this is Streiber, someone from our squadron saw your smoke and we were sent to offer assistance.’

  ‘You’re the army…the army! Oh Christ, thank God, thank God,’ the man replied almost bursting into tears. ‘Wait, wait there, I’ll let down the ladder.’

  Turning, someone unseen said something in an urgent whisper but the man brushed off whatever was said, and went to another hatchway. Streiber and Hills smiled to each other as they watched a rope ladder dropping down from the hatch.

  ‘What’s your name, Sir?’ asked Streiber, placing his foot on the first rung of the ladder.

  ‘I’m John… John Viney,’ the man replied, ‘and this is my wife Marie.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, John,’ said Streiber, beginning to climb the ladder. ‘Now let’s get your things together…’

  An hour later, the body of John Viney lay motionless in a pool of his own blood while his wife pulled the tattered remains of her clothes back over her body. The two soldiers had enjoyed their time with the couple. Each of the Vineys had satisfied one their twisted interests in one form or another. John had clearly come off the worse for meeting the two depraved soldiers. They had broken both of his legs, stamped repeatedly on his back until they heard the vertebrae snap and organs rupture, and then taken great delight in cutting off his fingers one by one, all the while forcing his wife, Marie, to watch. By the time it was her turn, all John could do was follow the brutal rape and beating of his wife with his eyes, while he lay choking on his own blood.

  ‘Time to go, bitch,’ Hills snapped, pulling the zipper up on his trousers.

  ‘He said time to go!’ Streiber repeated, grabbing the woman by her elbow to pull her up.

  However, the woman pulled away from the soldier who had raped and brutalised her body to throw herself over her husband’s barely alive form.

  ‘For fuck’s sake!’ Hills spat, his temper flaring while he grabbed Marie by her hair to pull her up.

  As Marie screamed, kicked and struggled to break free, Streiber stepped past her and levelled his gun at John’s head.

  ‘Anymore of that and this fucker gets it, okay,’ he said coldly.

  Instantly, Marie stopped her struggling.

  ‘Now you’ve got to understand something, we’re going back to the camp,’ Streiber began, ‘you try to run or make a noise and Hills here will be happy to take out your kneecaps… you got me?’

  Marie’s terrified eyes flicked to Hills. After what he had done to her and her husband, she had no doubt that he would shoot the legs from under her and leave her for the Dead. Marie nodded.

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t hear you,’ Streiber said, cupping his ear.

  ‘Yes,’ Marie managed to sob, ‘yes, I understand.’

  ‘Good,’ Streiber said, giving Hills a sly grin as he shoved Marie towards the ladder.

  As he pushed her, Marie stumbled against a table. Banging her already bruised hip painfully, she cried out.

  ‘Come on,’ Streiber said, pulling her upright again, ‘follow me down and don’t forget Hills has his beady eyes on you.’

  When Streiber reached the bottom of the rope ladder, Marie began her own painful descent.

  ‘What about John?’ she asked, stopping to look up at Hills still at the top of the ladder,‘I don’t think he can walk…’

  ‘No,’ Hills said with a sick smile, as he began climbing down the ladder. ‘No, he can’t.’

  ‘You bastards!’ she wept, realising Hills and Streiber had left her husband to die on the floor of her home.

  ‘Just move,’ Hills commanded, giving her a shove.

  Although the snow had stopped falling earlier, it was still freezing out on the wild overgrown golf course and Marie pulled what was left of her blouse tightly around her with one hand. Her other hand, she thrust firmly into her trouser pocket. There her thumb ran back and forth over the sharp blade of the potato peeler she grabbed when she pretended to bang into the table. Knowing she would only get one chance, she would have to be on the lookout for the perfect opportunity. She would bide her time for now, but these men would pay for what they had done and they would pay in blood. That was a promise.

  ***

  DAY 5

  ‘I think we should make a move,’ said Steve, looking at the glowing hands on his watch. ‘By now, they’ll be bored to tears and probably even taking turns grabbing a quick nap while the other keeps an eye out for the Dead … and good old Dad of course.’

  ‘What about the rest of the soldiers?’ asked Liz.

  ‘Those not on watch duty will be asleep by now,’ Steve replied, reaching for a length of pipe on the wall. ‘So, are we good to go?’

  They knew the time had come and they could stall no longer. Therefore, after giving Justin and Anne a tight hug goodbye, Phil and Imran jumped down from the cart to join Leon and Patrick on the glistening snow covered road. There had been a heated, but whispered, discussion between Imran and Liz concerning whether she should come or not. Of course, Imran got his way in the end when Liz was finally made to see sense. If she went with them, Imran’s concern for her safety would override his own sense of self-preservation. He would act without thinking and end up putting his own safety in jeopardy. Liz knew it was true, because on more than one occasion, Imran had acted recklessly when he thought he could save her from danger.

  ‘Be careful,’ said Liz, her cold breath pluming in the still, cold air. ‘Come back in one piece, because we need you. I need you.’

  With a lot less grace than she would have wished, Liz lent forward through one of the cart’s side hatches and grabbing hold of Imran’s coat collar, pulled
him toward her lips. For the briefest of moments, she closed her eyes, wishing the world would stop turning and the passage of time would pause so she would never have to let him go. But the world kept on spinning and time refused to halt its progress and when Imran began to slowly pull away, she opened her eyes. What she saw made her breath catch in her throat. His beautiful dark eyes, normally so full of love and mystery, were but disks of silver light. It wasn’t until he blinked that she realised it was simply the reflected full moon from overhead. Instantly, she remembered the name of an old Roman deity that Charlie had once told her about. Diana, Goddess of the hunt and of the moon, normally so aloof in the affairs of mankind, seemed to be looking favourably upon their small band and had surely sent them her blessing. Not only had the snow stopped falling an hour ago and the clouds had cleared to reveal a clear star splashed sky, but her moon seemed to be hanging strangely low in the sky above them. It was as if the goddess herself wished to watch her champions hunt their quarry across the countryside that she now bathed in her radiant light.

  ‘I’ll come back,’ Imran whispered, reaching out to touch her belly. ‘I’ll come back for you both, I promise.’

  ‘Sorry, but we need to get moving,’ said Steve quietly, as he blew on his fingers. ‘We don’t know how many of the Dead are between them and us by now. We really don’t want to spend our time fighting the Dead just to get to the convoy the moment they speed off, do we.’

  Earlier that evening, as the weak winter sun had made its slow transition over the horizon to cover the countryside with the dim smoky light of dusk, the group from Lanherne caught up with the camped army convoy. In fact, they had almost given themselves away and it had only been Phil noticing that the tyre tracks in the snow had abruptly turned into a small car park that prevented Delilah from pulling the cart across the intersection and into view. After silently dealing with a small group of the Dead who had been following the noisy vehicles, Phil managed to turn the cart around unnoticed and take them the hundred or so metres back down the tree lined lane to where the cart now sat hidden in the shadows of some large conifers.