She turned and broke free of Ben’s grip, striking her shoulder a heavy blow on the doorframe as she ran through the hallway into the living room. Pain flared; she barely noticed it. The front door slammed, sounding a long way away. Lisa collapsed onto the edge of the sofa and put her head in her hands, trying to shake her mind free of that monstrous image of her sister clasping a baby, both of them dead. She felt trapped in someone else’s nightmare, and wished to Christ they would wake up.
A deafening sound like a bomb detonating shook the cottage. Lisa felt a hand close around one of her wrists and tried to pull away but the grip was too strong.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Ben said.
Lisa looked up at him. She felt utterly helpless. “What’s the point? You heard what she said. We can’t run from them, Ben. They’re fucking dead.”
His mouth became a thin line. “Yeah, I know. Dead. Which means they can’t move very fast. There may be more of them than us, Lisa, but we can run.”
Lisa could only shake her head. Never in her life had she felt such despair, not even when the doctors considered her well enough to be told that David was dead.
Ben crouched and took her other wrist, gently but insistently prying her hands from her face. “Listen,” he said. “What was it you said about life being worth living no matter how bad it seems? I know you’re feeling worse than you’ve ever felt before and, believe me, right now I’m just about crapping myself. But we’re alive, yeah?”
“Yes, but for how much longer?”
“Until we die,” he answered calmly. “Isn’t that the way life is?”
Another resounding crash, this one followed by the sound of wood splintering. Ben’s eyes flicked anxiously towards the hallway, then back to Lisa.
“We have to move now,” he said. “I take it there’s a back door we can use?”
Before Lisa could respond she heard a window shatter at the rear of the house. Lethal shards of glass showered through the open kitchen doorway.
“Forget I asked,” Ben said, looking fearfully at the curtained window next to the sofa. He hauled Lisa to her feet. “No time to argue. You with me or not?”
The image of Alison cradling the dead baby flashed into Lisa’s mind again.
“Yes,” she said, without hesitation. “But there’s no way out.”
“Then we go upstairs,” Ben said, leading her by the wrist. He paused by the hall, where they could both see that part of the door, solid or not, had been almost punched through. “Try to barricade ourselves in one of the bedrooms. It’ll be dawn soon. Whatever those things are, I doubt they’ll want to risk being seen by daylight.”
He reached back and pulled the living room door shut. Lisa knew what he was thinking. Whatever had smashed the kitchen window could be in the house even now.
They took the stairs two at a time. Maybe Alison sensed their intent, for as they neared the top they heard another mighty blow strike the front door. Lisa glanced down and immediately wished she hadn’t. The small hole in the door was now a big hole. A mutilated hand had reached through it and was searching around for the lock.
“Oh shit,” she gasped, out of breath.
Ben halted. “What is it?”
“Believe me, you don’t want to know. Keep moving.”
They reached the landing a few seconds later. Ben looked at the three wooden doors in turn. They were all closed; Lisa kept them that way out of habit.
“Too many of them at the front of the house. I reckon we should hole up in one of these two rooms at the back.” He nodded at the door closest to him. “Okay?”
“That one’s the bathroom,” Lisa said. “Too small. We’ll use the guest room.”
She was glad that Ben had ruled out the front bedroom, which was hers. There were pictures of David on the dresser and she didn’t feel like answering the questions that would inevitably follow later. Assuming, of course, that there was a later.
From downstairs she heard more glass breaking.
“Quick,” Lisa said. She flung open the door to their left, pulling it shut after they had both charged through. “No lock. We’ll need to block it.”
“Here.” Ben gripped the front and back of the huge mahogany wardrobe that dominated the room, then tried and failed to drag it towards the door.
“Jesus,” he gasped, face red. “You’ll have to help.”
“It’s a family heirloom.” It was also, she realised, where Alison had hung her clothes while she was staying there, never now to reclaim. Next to it, the unmade bed where Alison had slept for the very last time was another reminder of her loss. Grief tightened her throat and she made herself swallow, forcing it down. She’d deal with it later. “Weighs a ton,” she said, a forced lightness in her tone.
“You’re not bloody kidding.”
Lisa positioned herself on the other side of the wardrobe, outstretched arms against it, feet rammed up against the rear wall. Then she shoved as hard as she could. If the room had been carpeted she doubted they could have moved it; the wardrobe was old and solidly built. But she and David had decided to keep the original floorboards when they’d bought the place, sanding and polishing them until they looked like new. At the time it had added to the place’s charm.
Now it might just save her life.
The wardrobe shrieked deafeningly in protest as it was scraped across the floorboards. Lisa’s shoulder began to throb where she had struck it earlier but she kept pushing until her arm felt ready to pop out of its socket. Then she heard Ben call out for her to stop and she slumped back against the wall. It was only when she had managed to catch her breath that she knew the dead were in the cottage.
“Hear that?” she said.
Ben looked around the corner of the wardrobe, the overhead light catching the sheen of sweat on his forehead. He too was breathing heavily. “Hear what?”
“That,” Lisa said, at the sound of furniture breaking below them. It didn’t take much imagination to picture cadaverous figures lurching around the room, lashing out at anything that got in their way. The door to the hall might as well be made out of paper for all the protection it offered. Lisa shook her head, trying to clear her mind, when an explosive bang made her jump; they must have wrecked the TV.
Ben put his shoulder to the front of the wardrobe and forced it as near to the door as it would go. He stood back, chest heaving, to survey his work. It was obvious from the way he chewed at his lip that he didn’t believe it would be much help.
“They’ll never get through that,” Lisa said, though she wasn’t convinced either. “If we put our weight against the wardrobe we can keep them out all night.”
“Sure, we can keep them out,” Ben said dubiously, looking around the room.
Lisa followed his gaze. The room felt suddenly small, like a prison cell.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. They were trapped. If whatever force was directing Alison and the other walking dead – and there could be no doubt they were being directed; the attacks were too controlled to be random – decided there was no way to reach them, it might decide to employ other tactics. Such as starting a fire.
Ben ran a hand over his face. “We’ve backed ourselves into a corner. I even left the fucking poker downstairs. We’ve nothing to defend ourselves with.”
“It’s not too late,” Lisa said as an idea occurred to her. She went to the window and looked out, the darkness outside turning the glass into a mirror. Her reflection looked like that of a stranger with wild hair and grubby clothes. “If we’re quick and not too loud, we can be on the ground and running before they know it.”
“Only one problem,” Ben said. He pressed his face to the glass and looked down, hands over his eyes to block the light. “Bit hard to run with a busted leg.”
“It’s not as far down as you think,”
Lisa told him. The window was the old-fashioned sash type and it rose smoothly and quietly when she lifted it. She stuck her head out and peered at the ground. There was a drop of maybe eight feet which ended in the dark square of the coalbunker roof. “As long as we take it slow and careful we’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” Ben said. “Good thinking. I’ll go first.”
“What did I just say? Slow and careful. Have you got the van keys?”
Ben blinked at her, momentarily confused. Then he rolled his eyes. “Shit. I guess we must have left them downstairs.”
“No, we didn’t,” Lisa said. “They’re still in the ignition. See what I mean?”
“You’re saying we need some sort of escape plan, right?”
Lisa couldn’t help but smile at the way he’d phrased it. Escape plan. Like a line from a corny movie. “Something like that. If you want to go first, I’m not going to argue. Wait until I’m down, then we’ll make a run for the van together.”
“Makes sense.”
“As quiet as you can.”
“Don’t worry. I intend to be.”
Ben sat on the sill, legs drawn up under his chin, then swivelled and pushed them out through the open window. That done, he turned over onto his stomach and gripped the edge of the frame before lowering himself carefully. A split-second after he let go, Lisa heard him land softly on the bunker roof. Lisa sat on the edge of the sill, mentally preparing herself to follow. If one of the walking dead got in their way, they’d stand a better chance of getting past it together than they would if they were alone. But if there was more than one of the things …
She allowed the thought to trail off, too scared to take it any further.
From beyond the door she heard the stair treads creak. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for her sister to call out to her. Instead there came a short, sharp whistle through the open window.
So much for being quiet.
Behind the wardrobe she could hear the doorknob turn. Then the door clicked open. That spurred her into action. Lisa hurriedly copied Ben’s technique until her feet were dangling in mid-air and her fingers were struggling to maintain their grip on the windowsill. The cold night air felt refreshingly cleansing after the close confines of the bedroom. Lisa looked down and could see she was only a yard or so above the bunker. She dropped the rest of the way, bending at the knees to absorb the impact as she hit the flat roof with barely a sound. Pausing to take stock, she could not help but glance up at the sound of the bedroom door smashing into the back of the wardrobe.
How much time did they have before Alison guessed what they were up to?
Ben was a dark shape against the shadowy garden. He motioned to her – come on, hurry up – and Lisa sat on the edge of the bunker, then pushed herself off. It was only a short drop to the path that ran around to the front of the cottage but she landed awkwardly, biting back a cry of pain as her left ankle twisted beneath her. Ben must have guessed what had happened, for the next thing she knew she felt his hand close around her arm to help her straighten up. Fearing the worst, she carefully put her full weight down on her left foot. It hurt like hell, but it was manageable. Just about.
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”
Ben turned and edged towards the side of the cottage, letting go of her arm. Now Lisa could see he was holding on to something with his other hand; as they crept past the shattered kitchen window the light revealed it to be a shovel. Lisa supposed she must have left it propped up against the side of the bunker, though she couldn’t be sure; it had been months since she’d needed to bring in any coal. Whatever, she was glad he’d found it. Not the most effective of weapons, maybe, but better than none.
Lisa hobbled after him, looking nervously through the broken window. Light from the living room cast shadows on the kitchen wall. They were moving.
She was so busy watching them, unable to tear her gaze away, afraid that some decomposing face would suddenly stagger towards the window, that she almost blundered straight into Ben. He had stopped at the edge of the cottage and was peering round the corner, shovel raised in readiness. Lisa waited with him, though she was silently willing him on. Her neck prickled; she was convinced that something was creeping up behind them. Finally, with the briefest of backward glances to make sure that she was following, Ben set off cautiously along the side of the old stone building.
Ahead of them, a tantalisingly short distance away, Lisa could see the van. It took all her self-control to stop her from making a run for it. Slow and careful. That was what she had told him and she reminded herself that the same applied to her, too.
The sky was still dark, though sparkling with stars, and the moon was bright enough to light their way. Dawn was several hours away yet and if they were going to survive until then, they both had to act as if they were walking through a minefield.
Ben stopped as they neared the front. When Lisa was close enough he put his mouth to her ear and whispered, “The keys are definitely still in the ignition?”
“Yes,” she hissed back. “I’m positive.”
“Right. Can’t see any of those things at the front of the house, but they could come out any second now, once they realise we’re not in the bedroom. I know what you said earlier but I reckon we should take our chances and leg it for the van.”
Even though she had almost done just that a few seconds earlier, the prospect now terrified her. “We don’t have to use the van. We can cut through the fields at the back. They won’t know which direction we’ve gone in. They’ll never find us.”
“Yeah, well, given the choice I’d settle for the van any time.”
He was right. They had no idea what could be waiting for them in the open countryside. At least the van would protect them and get them away from trouble fast.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay, let’s do it.”
Ben nodded. “Don’t stop. Just keep going, no matter what.”
She had no intention of stopping, that was for sure.
“Now.”
They ran. The lawn seemed to stretch before them, as long as a football field. Her heart pounded and the breath burned in her lungs as Lisa raced across the grass, Ben right alongside her. From the corner of her eye she saw the front door was open, and that something squat and dull grey in the hall light was turning to face them, like it had been standing sentry. Lisa heard herself cry out in fear as the figure tottered out of the cottage, but she immediately realised it was moving so slowly that it had no chance of intercepting them. Fear quickly turned to elation as she thought for the first time that they really were going to get out of this in one piece.
And then they had reached the van. Without thinking Lisa headed straight for the driver’s door. Ben got there first. “I’ll drive,” he yelled.
Lisa switched tack and raced around the front of the van to the passenger side.
Where one of the dead was waiting.
Lisa shuddered to a stop the moment she saw it. “Ben!”
The corpse was that of a middle-aged woman who looked only recently dead.
Ben had been wrong when he’s said they could not move very fast. Certainly this one could, much faster than the others. When it pounced Lisa barely had time to throw herself to the ground. She rolled away to one side, then pushed herself to her feet, arms waving wildly to regain her balance, at the same time stumbling backwards to keep out of the dead woman’s reach. The corpse’s mouth opened soundlessly and it hurled itself at her. Lisa knew she would not be able to get out of its way again and she instinctively threw her arms up to protect herself.
Then there was a sudden blur of motion to her left as Ben lunged forward, swinging the shovel. It hit the woman full in the face. Metal sunk deep into decaying flesh. The woman jerked and spun around violently when Ben yanked the blade loose. He swung it once more and
the head tumbled away into the darkness. The corpse collapsed and lay utterly still on the path at the side of the van.
Ben looked with distaste at the dripping mess on the blade before hurling the shovel away. Then he grabbed Lisa’s arm. “Get in the van.”
But she couldn’t move.
“Quickly!” Ben yelled at her, pushing her towards the Transit.
The urgency in his voice snapped Lisa out of her paralysis. When she looked at him running around to the driver’s side, she saw that the dead were spilling out of the cottage and moving in an uneven wave across the lawn towards the van, Alison at the head. She was moving quickly, still cradling the dead infant.
Lisa heard the van start up and she jumped over the decapitated corpse, half expecting it to suddenly reach out and grab her, yanked the door open and climbed quickly inside. She’d barely closed the door when the Transit surged forward.
Lisa put a hand on the dashboard to steady herself, resisting the temptation to turn round and look through the rear door windows.
Alison was gone. The thought broke her heart, but she had to accept it.
Whatever that thing was that clutched the baby, it was no longer her sister.
“You all right?”
Lisa nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“So,” he said. “Where to?”
“Anywhere,” Lisa said wearily. “Just get us out of here.”
Ben drove much faster than Lisa would have done had she been at the wheel, and she was glad of that. If anything, his driving was only just short of reckless. The van raced around a corner, inertia flinging her against Ben and forcing out breath that she had been holding without even noticing. She straightened and tugged the seatbelt over her shoulder and across her lap before snapping it into place.
King of All the Dead Page 8