Plague Of The Revenants

by Chilvers, Edward

  I spent some time with Frey walking from the church to the farmhouse, planning out where we might put the posts and how much filler timber we might need before we were called in for supper. I made a mental note that now there were three more of us we would need to go out raiding again that little bit sooner now that we had three more. Still, for that night we ate well once more and afterwards I retired to the clock room, as was my custom. Reverend Thorpe came to join me shortly afterwards, as I knew he would.

  “You’ve not been here a week and you’re already the most important member of our team,” said Thorpe.

  “The team is important,” I said firmly. “Not me. If I died tomorrow you’d still remember what I taught you. Whatever you do don’t come to rely on me.”

  There’s more than enough fence posts to finish the job,” said Thorpe. “I’ve seen the plans. Space the posts out at an even distance then fill them in with wood and secure it. We’ll have a secure tunnel running from here to the cottage in no time.”

  “There’s work to be done in the meantime and that work will benefit us all,” I said. “Those three newcomers? They’ve all of them gone a little stir crazy, I’ve seen it before. At least a project will serve to give us a bit of healthy exercise and hopefully take our minds off the wider problem.”

  After Thorpe left I started to loll off to sleep but was awakened a few hours later to the sound of a commotion coming from the main body of the church. I leapt up, seized the hammer and charged down the steps, convinced we had been invaded. The others were on their feet, many had retreated into the corner. Stan and Gloria stood in the middle of the room. At first I thought the two of them had turned. They were swaying obscenely in the aisle with rich yellow vomit stuck to their fronts. I raised my hammer uncertainly then noticed how Kit stood back with her arms folded, a humourless smile on her lips. “Drunk,” she muttered contemptuously.

  Reverend Thorpe forced some water down their throats and settled them as best they could.

  “Where did they get the booze from?” Demanded Hammond.

  “Stole it,” I muttered. “Stole it from us, that is. I recognise that as one of the bottles we unpacked from the bags when we raided those cars the other day.”

  “I suppose they must have been through a terrible trauma,” said Thorpe sympathetically.

  “Nonsense,” I spat. “They’re in the same boat as the rest of us. We’ve all been through an ordeal.”

  “Let it go,” pleaded Thorpe. “At least for now. They just need a little time.”

  “Time is one thing we don’t have,” I said darkly. “If we’re all going to live together we all need to stick by the rules. That was strong alcohol not for drinking. We could have used that as anaesthetic or to clean wounds.”

  “I don’t think I can cope with much more of this,” muttered Jeanette Frey. “I’m still getting over the revenant scare of the other night. And besides, how do we know she isn’t bitten? Did anybody check?”

  “She wasn’t bitten,” I replied confidently for everybody to hear. “That place was done up tighter than a drum and there wasn’t a revenant within the perimeter until we got there.”

  “I suppose we can’t choose who we save,” said Hammond eventually. “Had the two of them not made it to safety in the wood depot I doubt they’d have made it that far. Still, I suppose if they have been sheltered from it all it must be a hell of a shock for them.”

  “Maybe we’ll let it go tonight,” I acknowledged. “Although I’m still going to give them one hell of a rollicking in the morning. We need good, strong workers no lazy no good sponging drunks.”

  The next two weeks were taken up with the building of the passageway. We drove around the farms in the area removing wood from the outbuildings and loading it into our trucks. We found spades and went out and filled in the ditches leading to the farmhouse, levelling the ground. We found stone and grit and laid it over the boggy ground. We put in place a new system of rarely going into buildings. Instead we kept to areas with a clear line of vision and when we worked we worked in teams of at least three with one person keeping a lookout. The revenants came by, of course they did, but for most it was just a question of getting out of the way. Only a few of us went out and put them down and I was gratified to see Kit and Paul getting less reticent about finishing them off.

  Endless debate raged as to how best to harvest our own food. I knew we would have to wait a while before we could start to plant crops in the field but in the meantime there was the question of whether or not we could plough a space somewhere and we were always hopeful of finding seeds in the multitude of barns we raided.

  Most of the foraging work was now done by myself, Kit, Paul and Dev. Every time we went past a farmhouse to gather wood we would loot it as well, only this time we employed a sounder method in that we would be sure to pave our way first. Any time we sensed a revenant in the building we would retreat and summon backup. Throughout the course of our raids we found three more guns and also several medium sized canisters. One day myself and Dev took these canisters to the village petrol station and filled them up so we might have access to a constant source of fuel.

  In general Dev came with us on our missions keenly but Stan and Gloria had to be coerced. The more I found out about their backgrounds the less I liked about them. I got the impression Stan had been something of a petty crook before the outbreak, a low level graffiti artist, drug dealer and all round troublemaker. I knew I was hardly one to preach but at least I had never been happy with being small time. They never really talked about themselves and clammed up when I tried to engage them. Still, I couldn’t quite blame them for it. I was running from my past as well. From time to time I forced Stan to come out with me but the boy was lazy and listless and rarely any help. He tended to turn tail at the first sign of trouble and could often be found slacking off.

  The downstairs windows of the farmhouse were boarded up aside from a narrow slit at the top in order to let in at least a little natural light. We even found some paint which we used to cover over the blood left over by the revenants in the farmhouse. Such was the size of the farmhouse we could afford to have everyone sleeping on the upper floors where there was no need to conceal the windows. Frey remained on site all the time, supervising at least one other in the work. The passageway was turning out even better than I expected, with sloped sides leading up to a flat roof around a metre wide and about two metres tall. The passageway was solid and reinforced and I imagined it would not be so easily breached. The building of the passageway gave us hope. It was more than just a structure, rather it was a sign that we were progressing and advancing in the face of all the odds. People began to suggest more plans. They talked about building houses and constructing a great wall around the entire village. I doubted whether any of these plans would come to anything but the point was they gave us all hope. We took care to boost morale. Sometimes we would take out some of the older people in the trucks, or even the children, just so they could have a ride out. Of course if we did this we were careful not to take them anywhere dangerous or go into any buildings. Even though we were in a state of permanent crisis I cannot recall ever having experienced a feeling of such hope. Indeed the longer we went without losing anybody the more hope we had. I realised I always wanted to lead, always saw myself as a leader. People looked to me for guidance, still believed I was formerly in the army. I was pleased that this lie could go on indefinitely and they would never find the truth.

  It was just as well things were moving on as regards our move to the farmhouse, because the temperature dropped dramatically over the next few weeks. More blankets were brought in to make the older survivors comfortable but I resisted repeated requests that we move into the farmhouse early, for the place was still far from secure. Tom Hammond continued to watch the revenants from the roof of the church. Once a swarm came to within two miles of us and we all held our breath for a few days before it eventually moved on to pastures new. The relationship between myself and Kit r
emained frosty but we worked together well enough.

  We found them hiding in a hay loft on a farm three miles out from the church. Myself, Paul and Kit discovered them whilst out scavenging which was just as well because there were several revenants prowling around the vicinity which we were required to finish off. The barn was dirty and ramshackle. I wouldn’t have picked it out amongst the many outbuildings we had raided over those past few weeks. The family were hungry and desperate but they had survived in one piece, which was surprising in these times. They were called the Marstons and there were four of them: husband, wife, boy and girl. In other words the perfect family unit. They were cold, hungry and frightened and David Marston, the father, had an infected wound on his arm from where he had ripped it on a piece of barbed wire whilst fleeing a revenant onslaught but they were in better shape than Stan, Dev and Gloria had been when we found them in the depot, at least psychologically. David and Christina were both in their mid-thirties. The children, Charlie and Esme, were eleven and eight years old respectively. We took them back to the church and gave them food. Christina Marston, the mother, was the most talkative of the group.

  “We looted that farmhouse over a month ago,” said Kit. “And I peered into that barn myself. You weren’t there then. Have you come far?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Christina, and her voice sounded faraway and somehow frightened. “It sort of shows our desperation that we decided to come with you so easily. We’ve not had a good experience with other survivors.”

  “What do you mean?” I said sharply, my interest piqued.

  “Originally there were twenty of us,” said David Marston. “We’d all broken out from the city, took to our bikes when things started to get really bad whereas most people took the roads.”

  “Smart move,” I mused appreciatively.

  “We were like you guys I supposed,” continued David. “Trying to find a spot as isolated as possible. Eventually we found this derelict cottage on some heathland near the coast. It seemed perfect. We had shotguns and some of our party knew how to use them. We went out into the nearby woods and shot game, laid traps then cooked it in the fire that night. We were doing well.”

  “So what went wrong?” Asked Kit.

  “We went hunting,” said Christina. “All four of us, I mean. David thought it would be a good idea for the kids to learn their way around the forest, learn to take care of themselves just in case something happened to us. When we got back everyone else was gone, just vanished into thin air.”

  “Revenants?” Suggested Reverend Thorpe.

  “That’s what we thought at first but there was no sign of a struggle and no blood anywhere like you would expect,” said Christina. “What was more all of our provisions had been taken, including the bedding.”

  “And you never found your friends?” I asked. “Either dead or as revenants?”

  “Never,” said David.

  “Might they have left without you?” I pressed. Did you have a falling out or something like that?”

  “No,” said David. “We all got along swimmingly, or so I thought. And besides, if they didn’t want us anymore why not make us leave? Why depart from safety just for our sakes. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “So what did you do afterwards?” Asked Reverend Thorpe.

  “We had no food or provisions,” replied David. “We had to move on. We wandered for a couple of days, sleeping up trees when necessary and living off blackberries from the hedges until we came to the barn. Inside we found this recently dead sheep which we cooked up and were living off it when you arrived.”

  “How long ago was that?” I asked.

  “Three days,” said Christina.

  “And this camp of yours, how far away was that?”

  “Hard to tell,” she replied with a shrug. “I’d say we’re a few miles from the coast so however far that is.”

  “Twenty miles,” put in Reverend Thorpe.

  “Not much when you’ve got access to a vehicle,” I said with some concern.

  “None of it makes any sense,” I said to Reverend Thorpe and Kit when the three of us were alone a little later. “I can just about see why one band of survivors might seek to rob another but then why take the others with you? Why not just leave them be, or kill them if you’re feeling especially cold blooded?”

  “Do you think their stories can be believed?” Asked Kit.

  “Well if they were going to lie I’d have thought they could come up with a better story than that.”

  “It doesn’t bode well,” said Kit pessimistically.

  “If it’s true you’re certainly right,” I acknowledged. “There were twenty of them, and they were armed, about the same number as we have here if you discount some of the elderly. If what the Marstons say is true than whatever happened to their camp could well happen to us if we’re not careful.”

  “At least we’ve got two new people who can help us,” said Reverend Thorpe, trying to sound cheerful. “And the two children are hope for the future.”

  I smiled at this. “Always looking on the bright side,” I said with a sigh.

  “I suppose it was inevitable we would run into problems,” muttered Kit. “I suppose we’ll have to move on at some point.”

  “I don’t see why we can’t stay here as long as we need,” I said. “Provided we’re sensible. Of course the food stocks aren’t going to last forever. We’ll need to grow crops, raise animals and that sort of thing and that means building a moat or at the very least strong walls around this whole area. Besides,” I said with a shrug. “I don’t see we’ve got any other place to go. I doubt the government or armed forces have survived in any reasonable numbers to make a difference and there certainly isn’t going to be any help coming from overseas. Last I heard on the news they were just as badly off as we were. If anywhere else comes up that’s better we can be off there. Until then we’re going to have to make do. I doubt the Marstons’ will be the last survivors we pick up in which case it’s good to have the church still here as backup.”

  In the event Reverend Thorpe was quite correct. The discovery of the complete family unit had a big effect on the morale of the rest of the survivors and further contributed to the feelings of hope. We didn’t mention the story of the Marstons’ flight to the others. For the time being we had seen no danger ourselves. What reason did we have to be scared?

  Three days later the work was complete. It was a triumphal moment walking the full length of the newly finished tunnel with Kit, Thorpe and Frey. Frey was very much the man of the hour and he revelled in the praise. For the past few weeks we’d had hope. Now, at last, we had something to celebrate. I thought the tunnel looked superb. It was well constructed and secure. We were expanding, we were branching out. We had found more survivors and we were accommodating them. These truly were the halcyon days of the camp.

  The two sitting rooms were kept as they were as was the kitchen. The older but still active members of the group provided the cooking and alternated between her and going to sit in the sitting rooms in front of the fire. Mrs Dell, the lady with dementia, had a room of her own with a fireplace so she didn’t get too cold, the orphan children all slept together in another of the rooms with a fireplace. The Marstons’ all slept together in one room. Frey and his wife had a room. Stan shared a room with Gloria. Their relationship remained on and off and rows were common. On the occasions I was able to get them out scavenging they invariably managed to pilfer cigarettes and the odd bottle of whisky. I let this slide as long as they didn’t overdo it. Everyone else had a room each, all except myself who elected to stay put in the clock tower of the church. Officially I told them this was because somebody needed to be around to keep an eye on the place but in truth I still valued my solitude.

  The first night we moved in we decided to have a party to celebrate. We celebrated with quite a feast in which we stuffed ourselves. Although we didn’t go out of our way to find alcohol we usually brought back a bottle or two from the d
rinks cabinets of the houses we looted. Stan and Gloria partied hard in a way that they didn’t deserve, for it was not as if they had worked particularly hard for this moment. They managed to get themselves hideously drunk in quite a short space of time.

  “You don’t like them,” said Kit, coming up to me and passing me a cup of whiskey.

  “I don’t suppose we can choose whom we save,” I muttered. “It was like your father said. All the same they’re hardly harmonious to the rest of the group. I’m worried they could cause friction unless they start getting their act together. They’ve had enough time to get themselves together. It’s time to take them in hand, get them doing a bit of real work. I won’t have them leeching off us.”

  “At least Dev is turning out alright.”

  I nodded and looked at the boy sitting to the side, by himself as usual. Despite the fact of them having survived weeks together he rarely spoke with Stan and Gloria, rarely spoke to anybody for that matter although he always appeared up for a game with the children and would sometimes sit up and read to Mrs Dell.

  Everybody moved into the farmhouse except me. I remained in the church, on the first floor in the clock room. I told them it was because somebody needed to stay and keep an eye on the place but really I liked to be alone. My eight years in jail had given me a taste for solitude. Weeks passed. Now we had security we needed to do something about the inevitable boredom. Even though we were now well into autumn, possibly even early winter, Reverend Thorpe still thought it important to get outside. Fortunately we still had enough fence posts left over to fence in a sizable part of the garden, which pleased me greatly. There was some disagreement with how this new space would be used. I wanted to grow plants and vegetables whilst Reverend Thorpe wanted to devote the area to some leisure space for the survivors. In the end I bowed to his judgement. We could fence in more of the outside space later. For now keeping up morale was the key. For the first few days we somewhat rested on our laurels. We had all the food we needed and were keen to enjoy the fruits of our hard work. I went out with Frey and we started to fence off the garden and a meadow. This time the fence was no so secure and held together with wire which stretched to eight foot high. It would not stand up to a sustained attack from a horde but it should keep out the odd one or two that still came by. The grand plans progressed. We were going to go even further, were going to turn the ditches around the church and farmhouse into an impenetrable moat. I calculated that doing so would give us forty acres in which to grow food. The only problem was where to find the materials. We had already looted most of what was in the lumber yard and a tour of the proposed perimeter showed that the unirrigated land was boggy and would be almost impossible to build on without proper drainage. We could have done with a builder to show us how to do it but in the meantime we put our heads together and schemed.