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

by Stephen Charlick

  ‘We need to deal with any of the Dead as quickly as possible,’ Patrick whispered. ‘They may be at a disadvantage in the dark, but with this bright moonlight, we shouldn’t rely on them not being able to see us. We can’t let any of them start moaning, of it’ll just attract more of them and we’ll be swamped.’

  ‘From here on in, we should keep talking to a minimum,’ said Steve, his hand instinctively moving up to his ribs, as a shock of pain made him wince. ‘Try to use hand signals where you can, okay?’

  ‘Are you going to be okay?’ Imran asked, noticing Steve reacting to the pain from his cracked ribs. ‘You can always stay here. This isn’t your fight now, after all.’

  ‘Yes it is… scores to settle,’ Steve replied coldly, as he stepped away from the cart to take the lead.

  As the five men began their slow walk back down the lane to the car park, the only sound heard was the soft crunch of the newly fallen snow under foot and the rhythmic in and out of their breathing. As Imran watched the plumed breath of the four men in front of him, rising above them only to be whisked away by a breeze, he stole one last backward glance to the cart behind him. He promised Liz and their unborn child he would return to them and though he meant it with all his heart, even as he said the words, he knew it could be a promise he might not be able to keep. It would be so easy to turn back to the woman he loved, but Charlie had instilled in him a sense of duty. These were his people that the soldiers had stolen. They looked to him and the skill with his bow for protection, and he would not, he could not, let them down.

  Imran was snapped from his thoughts by the sight of a figure slowly pulling itself through a large holly bush that spilled out onto the road. The glossy evergreen leaves appeared almost black in the moonlight and as the spiky leaves snagged on the already tattered clothes and flesh of the cadaver, Imran took aim on the pitiful creature. Drawing back his bow, with a slight creak from the taut string alerting the others to his actions, Imran took a calming breath and focused on his target. The Dead thing, which had once been a young man, turned its head back and forth, trying to locate the source of the sound that had somehow reached his Dead eardrums. Still deep in the shadows of the Holly bush, his film covered eyes failed to see the living figure that would have driven him into a wild frenzy and as he flailed impotently trying to free himself from the sharp spiky bush, his unnatural existence was finally ended as Imran let his arrow fly. With a dull ‘thud’, the arrow was embedded deep in the creature’s skull and the Dead man’s limbs were at last still.

  Hanging in the bush like a marionette with its strings cut, the Dead man would be forever trapped within the branches that had snagged him. His flesh would eventually fall from his bones to feed the soil beneath him and then in turn, the plant that held him would be nourished by his decaying matter. Such was the way of life now, the plants had grown strong and wild fed by the flesh of the Dead, while the fall of man was silently written as a side note of history.

  Wading into the snowdrift by the side of the road, Imran reached over to the corpse to retrieve his arrow. He did not know what the night before him held and every arrow he could carry was one more chance he could keep his promise to Liz. With a yank, he pulled the arrow free and after examining it in the moonlight to make sure it was still viable, he slipped it back into his quiver. With a tap on his shoulder from Patrick, telling him they needed to keep moving, Imran and the others continued their slow but stealthy progress along the lane to the camp.

  Although the turn to the car park wasn’t actually that far, it had taken the cautious raiding party thirty minutes until the break in the hedgerow finally came into view. Each footstep along the lane had been tentative and measured. Every snap of a twig or rustle in the undergrowth had stopped them in their tracks, their weapons held high and ready for an attack. At one point, three of the Dead had loomed unexpectedly towards them from the roadside shadows. But with smooth practiced movements the Lanherne men had stepped in front of Steve, who was less used to hand to hand combat with the Dead, and dispatched all three of them before even one of them could alert their decaying comrades of the presence of the living.

  Crouching down, Steve held up his hand signalling the others to stop. Patrick and Phil edged forwards, their hunched over posture mirroring Steve.

  ‘What is it?’ Phil whispered, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

  Silently, Steve pointed to the driveway that led up to the car park. Something was wrong. Even from where they hid, the men could hear the angry moans of the Dead coming from the camp. What worried Steve was that these were not the pitiful cries of the decrepit Dead who had wandered the countryside seeking out the living, but the desperate calls of those newly awoken to their unnatural state. The Dead had attacked the camp and claimed new lives but what confused Steve most was that all in the camp would have been wearing their failsafe pulse detectors, so just who had died only to rise again and why were they not being dealt with by the soldiers.

  Out of nowhere, the driveway was flooded with light, making the men shield their eyes from the sudden brightness and with the powerful roar of an engine adding to the hungry moans of the unseen Dead, the men pushed themselves deeper into the shadows in the hope they would not be seen.

  ‘What the fuck’s happening?’ asked Patrick.

  ‘Trouble,’ was all Steve could say, as one of the Jackals thundered down the lane, its wheels spinning slightly on the icy road.

  Within seconds, the Jackal was speeding past them, to disappear in a blizzard of snow thrown up by its large tyres.

  ‘What now, man?’ Leon whispered, unsure if they should go back or carry on.

  ‘Now we get our people back,’ Imran replied, standing to pull an arrow from his quiver.

  ***

  Half an hour earlier, Avery was handing the last of some selected medical supplies over to Matt to put in a holdall.

  ‘That’s about all there’s room for, Doc,’ said Matt, taking a handful of sealed tablets from Avery. ‘Everything else we’ll just have to make do without.’

  ‘Erm… okay,’ Avery replied, looking anxiously at the cupboard containing a variety of medicines they would be forced to leave behind. ‘You just know whatever I don’t take we’re going to need sometime in the future and I’ll be kicking myself for leaving them.’

  ‘Let’s just get out of here in one piece first, then we can have regrets,’ Matt replied, zipping the holdall closed as he looked over to the clock on the wall.

  ‘You think we’ve waited long enough?’ Alice asked, noticing Matt’s glance at the clock.

  Matt looked back at Alice, shrugging his shoulders.

  ‘What do you think, Doc?’ he asked relying on Avery’s knowledge of the barbiturate they had used.

  Avery glanced at his watch and after weighing what he knew about the drug and with more than a bit of guess work, he looked over to Matt.

  ‘We can’t be sure, but I think now is a good a time as any, I suppose,’ he replied, knowing their lives depended on what they found outside.

  ‘You don’t sound too sure, Doc,’ said Matt nervously scratching his head, ‘Look, I’ll go out, and do a circuit of the camp. If anyone is still conscious at least they’ll think I’m just arriving for my watch. If it’s all okay, then I’ll come back here to get you both and we’re out of here.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ Alice said with a huff as she stood up in the hope she could convince her baby to get in a more comfortable position.

  For a moment, the three people looked at each other. The time had come. Their plan had either worked or it hadn’t and there was only one way to find out. Matt slung his rifle over his shoulder and paused in front of the Med lab door.

  ‘Wish me luck,’ he said turning back to the two people with whom his life about to take a new path.

  ‘Good luck,’ said Avery, stepping forward to shake the soldier’s hand.

  ‘Yeah, knock ’em dead, kiddo,’ Alice said through clenched teeth.

  �
��Are you okay?’ said Matt, concerned at seeing Alice in obvious pain.

  ‘Got a twinge, that’s all,’ she replied, her brow creasing as she glanced over at Avery.

  She knew now was not the time to distract Matt, because he needed to keep his mind on the job at hand. What they were about to do was going to be risky enough without him worrying about her.

  ‘Now get going,’ she continued. ‘The sooner you go, the sooner we get going.’

  Still not convinced, but knowing it was now or never, Matt gave her a reassuring smile, turned and stepped silently out the door.

  Outside the Med lab, the camp was silent. Somewhere in the snow-covered countryside, he could hear the distant bark of a dog but apart from that, the usual sounds of life that drifted from the tents or those on watch were absent. It was then that Matt noticed the first of the unconscious soldiers. Walking over to the body that lay face down in the snow, where he had obviously fallen when the drug had finally taken effect, Matt crouched down to turn the man over. It was the SAS man, Clarkes. Gingerly, Matt gave the man a prod and waited for any response. When none came, he lent forward and lifted up one of Clarkes’ eyelids. Even with only the full moon to see by, Matt noticed the man’s exposed iris slowly contracting.

  ‘One down,’ he said quietly to himself, pushing himself back up.

  He had taken a step away from Clarkes when he had second thoughts and turned back to kneel back down to the unconscious man.

  ‘This is for Steve, you bastard,’ he said, taking a knife from his belt and slicing the black band that held the pulse detector to the man’s neck.

  Dropping the now flashing pulse detector by the man’s side, Matt left him to his fate and went to check out the Jackals. He decided if they wanted a realistic chance of escape, then taking one of the Jackals was going to be their best option. Silently, he walked past the row of tents the off watch soldiers would be sleeping in. Thankful to be met with the sounds of snoring and farting that usually came from the men as they slept, Matt edged his way to the first of the large Jackal assault vehicles.

  ‘Knock, knock,’ he said quietly, approaching the front of the vehicle.

  Matt smiled to himself when he saw the two men slumped in their seats. Dr Avery’s anaesthetic had done the trick; the two soldiers were out cold. Knowing that the position of this vehicle, facing the overgrown golf course as it was, ruled it out as the one he would take, Matt decided to move onto the two other Jackals. He knew they had been parked to guard the road approach and one of these would be the one they would be using to escape. Making his way around to the front of the camp, Matt found a few other men slumped where they had fallen, unable to fight the effects of the barbiturate coursing through their bodies. With his confidence growing that their plan had worked, Matt increased his speed. Running up to the second Jackal, he was met by two more unconscious men again.

  ‘Mind if I take catch a ride, lads?’ he asked, grabbing the first man by his collar to pull him from the vehicle.

  After a struggle and more than a bit of swearing, Matt finally managed to pull the two men from the vehicle.

  ‘Time to even things up a bit,’ Matt said softly to the two prone soldiers, ‘nothing personal.’

  Pulling aside each of their collars, Matt then cut away their pulse detectors, just like he had done with Clarkes and tossed the flashing devices over into a nearby bush. This time though, he also removed their rifles. Turning, he placed them back into the Jackal. Any firepower they could take with them would be a godsend in the future and any advantage he could take from Blackmore and his men could only be one more thing in their favour in the long run.

  Leaving his chosen escape vehicle, Matt then jogged over the last remaining Jackal. Just as before, the soldiers sat slumped in their seats and after a bit of tugging at their prone bodies, Matt relieved them of both their weapons and pulse detectors. It was then that Matt had a flash of inspiration and reaching again into the Jackal past the driver, he pulled a small lever under the dashboard. With a click, the Jackal’s bonnet sprung open as the catch was released. Dashing to the front of the vehicle, Matt began to pull at various parts of the engine. It wouldn’t hold them for long but every minute he could stall Blackmore was a minute they could get further away.

  After dropping the second set of rifles back at the Jackal he was taking, Matt decided to continue his raid on the sleeping soldiers. Moving from tent to tent, weaponry was taken to add to his stash and as he left each tent, a small red light began to flash its count down. He was just dropping off the last of the acquired rifles and ammunition back at the Jackal when Matt heard the scraping sound of approaching footsteps. Turning to locate the source, Matt swore under his breath. There, dragging their decaying corpses into the camp was three of the Dead.

  ‘Time to go,’ he mumbled to himself, crouching out of sight.

  He had only made it part of the way back to the Med lab when the first wet tearing sounds drifted through the camp. The Dead had found the helpless soldiers and already they were ripping at their flesh and stuffing lumps of stolen flesh greedily into their mouths.

  ‘Shit. Shit. Shit!’ Mat whispered as he approached the Med lab.

  Behind him, the sounds of gorging continued. They were in real trouble and he knew it.

  ‘Time to go people,’ Matt said, bursting through the Med lab door. ‘Oh, crap!’

  There, clutching her stomach with Dr Avery holding her arm for support was Alice with a pained look on her face. This was more than a simple twinge, Mat could tell. With the large wet patch down the front of her trousers an obvious sign, he dreaded the words Avery was surely about to say.

  ‘Her water has broken,’ Avery said, looking up at Matt as he ran through the door.

  ‘No time for that,’ Matt said grabbing the bag of medical supplies. ‘The Dead are in the camp and they’re eating the soldiers, so we’ve got to go, now.’

  ‘But…’ Avery began.

  ‘Alice, can you walk?’ Matt interrupted. ‘We’ve got to get to the front of the camp and we’ve got to go now.’

  Alice gritted her teeth through the pain and nodded. She was not going to let her baby die in this place. If she had to crawl on her hands and knees, she would get out of this camp and dead or not, the soldiers would not stop her.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she said, pushing herself away from Avery.

  ‘Here,’ Matt said passing to Alice and Avery each a handgun he had lifted from the more than likely now Dead soldiers. ‘Keep close and keep low. It’s not far… We’ll make it, okay?’

  ‘You’re fucking right we will,’ Alice said, steadying herself against a table for a moment, before stepping towards Matt. ‘Let’s do this.’

  Matt gave the ballsy woman a smile and looking beyond her to see that Dr Avery was also ready, he turned and stepped back out into the cold death filled night.

  Crouching directly outside the Med lab door, Matt lifted his rifle to provide cover for Alice and Dr Avery, ready for the cannibalistic attack that was sure to be only moments away. Matt could see the reflected moonlight flashing off of Avery’s gun as it shook in his hands. Just like everyone on the base, Avery had a basic knowledge of firearms, but knowing ‘how to’ and actually ‘doing’ were two completely different scenarios. Up until now, the Dead had been something secured to a bench, studied, dissected and under his control. This was an alien world for Avery and the horror of the Dead had now become a terrifying and deadly reality. Matt looked at Avery, his wild eyes darting from one shadow to the next and prayed the doctor could keep it together long enough to get the Jackal. If the man panicked and started shooting, the Dead would be on them like a pack of wolves.

  Mat pulled Avery and Alice down to a crouch and pointed out the direction they would need to go. When they both nodded their understanding, Matt began to edge them forward, leaving the safety of the Med lab behind. He had barely gone three paces when there was a crash to his left. Holding his hand up abruptly as a sign, Avery and Alice froze mid-s
tep. In the shadows created by the row of tents, Matt could see movement. Suddenly, standing to his full height, the silhouette of a man could be seen. There was no doubt in Matt’s mind that this man was now one of Dead and as it turned its head left and right looking for prey, even the night could not hide the horror of the man’s death. The moonlight soon caught the side of his face, or rather what was left of it, throwing the gouged and torn flesh into stark relief. Matt heard a sharp intake of breath from Avery behind him and watched in dread as the Dead man slowly turned his head in their direction. Whether it was the Dead man’s film covered eyes unable to see them in the dark or that he simply hadn’t noticed them, Matt didn’t know, but he watched with bated breath as the Dead man’s gaze passed back and forth over them. Then with a sudden jerk, the Dead man threw himself at the tent next to him, tearing at the fabric to get to the unconscious body he knew lay hidden inside. Within seconds, the Dead man had ripped his way through the tent opening and was clawing his way up the prone body to get to the expose flesh of the man’s neck and face. Sooner than he had expected, Matt began to hear ripping and slurping sounds coming from the tent. Knowing now was their chance to move, while the Dead man gorged himself on the living flesh that had been so kindly laid out for him, Matt began to edge forwards again. They crept past more of the tents, some already ripped and dripping with spilt blood, while others still housed the drugged soldiers unknowingly awaiting their own deaths. Matt was surprised how quickly the Dead had overrun the camp. Like locust, they moved from body to body, increasing their number with every lump of flesh torn from their victims.

  Each growl, stumbling footstep and crash they heard coming from the shadows, promised a bloody death for Matt, Avery and Alice, but with easier meat for the Dead to claim, their luck seemed to be holding out. The rear of the Jackal was tantalisingly close now and with only one more tent to creep by, they hoped their thin run of luck would last them these last few meters to safety. However, when Matt heard movement from the other side of the canvas, he realised they were to be sadly disappointed. Matt briefly closed his eyes and held his breath, praying whoever the creature inside was feasting on would keep them occupied long enough for the three of them to pass undetected. Then, without warning, Alice’s hand shot forward to grab his, making him jump. Surprised, Matt turned to look at her and knew immediately what was wrong. Alice’s face was contorted with pain and with her eyes screwed tightly closed. She bit down forcefully on her lip. As the pressure from her grip increased, the pain from the growing contraction visibly shot through Alice. Her teeth broke through the skin on her lip as she fought the urge to cry out, knowing it could mean death for all of them and blood began to run down her chin. Matt knew the time for stealth was at an end. They needed to get Alice to the Jackal and away from here. Surely, she could only hold back the pain for so long before crying out and each step they could get closer to the Jackal was one step closer to getting out of there alive. The moment, Matt felt the tension on his hand begin to lessen, he pulled Alice up into a standing position and tugged her forwards.