March of the Dead (Killing the Dead Book 11)

by Richard Murray

  Still, not one to worry too much about such things, I turned my attention instead to the doors that were set into either side of the compartment. They could be opened to allow passengers to board the plane and they had a simple lever locking mechanism that allowed me to swing one open.

  “What’re you doing!” Lisa asked with more than a little alarm.

  “Hush,” I said as I leant out and whistled sharply.

  It didn’t take long for the Ferals to rush over at the sound, like a pack of dog’s eager for a treat, they massed below the doorway, arms stretched upwards to try and reach me. I allowed a small smile to form as I watched a few stragglers move in.

  “Ryan! What’re you doing man?” Johnny asked, fully awake now.

  “Gather all your stuff and open the hatch to the cargo bay,” I said. They stared at me blankly and I held back a sigh as I caught Georgia’s eyes. She nodded and rose to her feet.

  “Come on!” she said, gesturing with her hands for them to rise. “Get up, get up.”

  “You have a plan?” Lisa asked and I nodded sharply as I hid my grin.

  “What now?” Georgia asked when they were all ready.

  “Go down and make sure the cargo bay is clear,” I said. “When you’re sure it is, I’ll need one of you to stay up here with me to keep them distracted.”

  “Then what?”

  “While they’re focused on us, the rest of you run for it.”

  “What about you though?” Marie asked and I shrugged.

  “I’ll think of something,” I said with a grin that would have made her recoil in fear if she’d known just what I planned.

  “Guess I’ll check the hold,” Georgia said and I nodded as I leant out and whistled once more. It wouldn’t necessarily have drawn them all out, but enough that the way would be clear for the others to run.

  “Who wants to stay?” I asked without looking back.

  “I will,” Johnny said after a couple of minutes uncomfortable silence, where I was sure there was much shuffling of feet and refusal to meet each other’s gaze.

  “Sounds fine. Go to the back of the plane,” I said with a nod towards the missing tail section. “Watch until the others are out of sight then come back to me.”

  “Sure,” he said as he scratched at the back of his head with one meaty palm. Thinking was hard for him.

  As he plodded off to the back of the plane, Georgia popped her head up through the hatch, a wide grin on her face and a streak of blood across her chin.

  “There was one,” she said. “It’s dead.”

  “Good,” I said. “Head directly east and you’ll be out of sight in less than ten minutes.”

  “Will do… catch up soon though yeah?”

  “I have no intention of dying here,” I said as I turned and caught her eye. She nodded slowly as though not quite sure whether to believe me but ducked back out of sight as the group approached, ready to descend.

  Their exodus was painfully slow and more than once I had to wave and whistle to keep the zombie's attention fixed on me. It would only take one to look back and see the others fleeing and they would turn on them.

  “They’re gone,” Johnny said as he returned and I nodded without speaking as I gestured him up beside me.

  “Wait here,” I said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He stared at me for a moment and I saw the distrust there, so I flashed him a smile and made sure I gave the hatch a wide berth. I didn’t want him to think I’d just abandon him. After all, if I did, all he would have to do would be to duck out of sight and the chance they would turn their attention away and see me would increase.

  I went back to the seats where I had been dumping things from bags the day before and found the belt I’d casually discarded. It was made of canvas and long enough to fit around a larger person, which made it ideal for my needs. I headed back to the door and Johnny.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “Keep looking out there,” I said with a nod to the hatch.

  He frowned but did as instructed, which was why he didn’t see me draw my knife and ram it into the base of his spine.

  A squeal, much like that of a wounded animal, issued from his lips as his legs gave way beneath him. At the sound, the noise of the undead increased, filled with an undercurrent of excitement as they recognised the sound.

  “Wh…wha…” he mumbled between pain filled shrieks and I ignored him as I bound his ankles tightly together with the belt.

  The wound I’d given him would hurt like hell and incapacitate him but it wouldn’t kill him quickly, which was useful. I took his claw headed hammer and slipped it between the wrapped belt so that one end stuck out, which I used as a hook to catch on the edge of the hatch.

  Since he couldn’t move his legs, my blow to his spine had assured that. He couldn’t unhook them from the hatch and when I placed my hands beneath his armpits and dragged him to the doorway, he screamed in pain and fear.

  There was just enough room for his upper torso, head and shoulders to fit through before the hammer-handle hook, prevented him from moving any further. His arms hung free and I reached down with my knife and slashed at his lower arms. Shallow cuts, but deep enough that they allowed his blood to drip steadily down onto the eager undead below.

  “Thanks for this,” I told him as I patted his shoulder. “I appreciate you staying behind.”

  He had little response other than to scream curses at me and I shrugged as I headed for the hatch. The more noise he made, the more of a distraction he’d be, which made it easier for me to escape.

  There was no real joy at what I’d done, knowing that he’d be dead soon enough, but there was a growing amusement at how easy it had been. Perhaps Georgia was right and all I needed was to commit enough atrocities to find my joy once again.

  It was an interesting idea and one that I’d pursue once free of the constant attentions of the undead. With a smile and that thought uppermost in my mind, I climbed through the hatch and set off after my companions.

  Chapter 9

  They weren’t hard to find and after the usual dreary display of upset over the death of their friend who so valiantly lost his life while buying time for me to escape, we moved onwards. A smaller and much more subdued party.

  I figured that we’d get a day, maybe two out of the distraction I’d left at the plane. As soon as he died and turned though, the Ferals would lose interest and go back to their journey north. The shamblers were a bigger problem.

  The hill we’d found the plane wreckage on was high, with steep sides that had proven too much for the slower, more unsteady zombies. So, much like they did with any barrier they couldn’t go through, they stood at the bottom of the hill, waiting for some reason to change direction.

  That wasn’t long in coming. With ever more zombies piling up behind them, they were slowly forced to split and travel around the hill. This had the unfortunate effect of spreading them across a wider swathe of land and much of it to the east since that had been the easier route for them.

  As a consequence, for the next two days of our journey, we were forced far too often to change direction. The eastern hills soon became infested with the undead and despite their poor eyesight, it was simply too much of a risk for us to keep going that way. With just the briefest of discussions, the group agreed and off we went. Northwards once more.

  We slept rough, huddled together for warmth as we regretted not taking more spare clothing from the plane. The towels we had taken were wrapped around us and used as blankets. Not that we spent much time trying to sleep, a few hours at most and then up and off again lest the zombies catch up to us.

  The snack foods we’d taken from the wreckage lasted until the fourth day and by the fifth, we drank the last of our water, leaving me carrying a number of empty bottles in my rucksack. Talk had pretty much ceased and I could enjoy silence from my companions for most of each day.

  On the sixth day, around mid-morning, we crested a hill and stared down a
t a small cluster of buildings set in a rough square around an open courtyard. In the far distance, we could still hear the occasional mournful moan of the undead and so were very much aware that the small lead we had wouldn’t last long.

  I rubbed at tired eyes with the back of one grimy hand and glanced at each of my companions. Their faces were drawn and weary, dirt streaked and forlorn. Even the child had fallen silent, her constant complaints of hunger stilled by her exhaustion.

  “People or zombies?” Georgia asked and I looked at her and cocked an eyebrow in question. It was all I had the energy to do. “Guess. Will it be people or zombies down there?”

  “Don’t really care so long as they have food and water,” Lisa said in reply.

  Couldn’t really argue with that logic I supposed as I touched the hilt of my knife, fingers brushing over the stained and scratched handle. It’d been well used the past several months and I could only imagine it would see more use soon enough. I eyed my companions and wondered which I would kill next.

  There was no driving urge to do so, but the past few days hadn’t afforded me the chance and I was eager to try and recapture some of my joy in the act. I contemplated which would be best as I led the way down the hill.

  The buildings had a road, little more than a dirt track, leading away to the north-west towards what I assumed to be a main road leading towards… wherever. A copse of trees hid part of that road from view and another overshadowed the buildings on the north side.

  Directly below us, a large field showed signs of being ploughed at one time, had become overgrown through lack of use. That didn’t bode well for the hope that there were people there.

  Each of the buildings was made of stone and timber with tiled roofs that were generally moss free and clean. A good indicator that the buildings had been in use not long before the end of the world began.

  By the time we reached the bottom of the hill, our legs weary and shaking from too much walking on too little sleep and food, I could see movement in the courtyard between the houses. I held back a sigh. If it were Ferals, we wouldn’t stand a chance in our current state. If Shamblers, then depending on the number of them there we could give it a try. We needed to. Even if there was no food there, we badly needed water.

  I looked over to Georgia and our gazes locked as she nodded, agreement passing silently between us as she reached for her Hori Hori and quickened her pace. The others would be less than useless in a real fight but I knew I could trust her. I matched my pace to hers and we soon outdistanced the others who raised no objection or attempted to catch up with us.

  We paused at the edge of a tall, wide building that I guessed was some kind of barn and pressed our backs against the rough stone. I edged towards the corner and peered around, breathing a sigh at what I saw before gesturing Georgia forward.

  There were only three zombies, for which I was thankful. I doubted I’d have the energy to fight a significant number of them. The closest had its back to us, still dressed in the work clothes of a labourer, its skin mottled and bloated with the heat. My blade sank into the back of its skull as easily as a hot knife through butter and I gagged at the foul fluids that were released.

  “Nice,” Georgia murmured as she passed me by, one hand held delicately to her nose as I shook the worst of the fluid from my hand.

  The second zombie turned at her approach and moaned loudly as it raised its arms and took a swipe at her. She sidestepped elegantly and slammed her weapon into the side of its head. We shared another glance and looked at the third zombie.

  It wore a floral dress that barely covered its oversized frame and for a moment I thought it had once been a woman. The scraggly beard on its chin and balding skull indicated otherwise and I shook my head at that as I wondered how many people had died and resurrected while doing something they would normally have only done in private. Still, it wasn’t like there were many people left to see their shame.

  Georgia ducked a swing and left a deep gash in the creature’s arm as I kicked at one oversized leg. The damned thing was more than six feet tall and so large that I wasn’t sure I had the strength to push my knife in far enough to kill the damn thing. Those bloated rolls of fat were like a set of armour.

  The creature grabbed at me and I barely avoided its grip, slicing one fat arm with my knife as I dodged. Its moans increased and I had a moment's concern over it alerting any others to our presence when Georgia managed to silence it with a blow to the side of its skull. It fell to the ground with a heavy thump and I nodded my thanks to her as I willed my arm to stop shaking. We badly needed food. No man could survive long on peanuts alone, not when fighting the undead too.

  With the three zombies out of the way, I swatted at the flies that seemed intent on landing on me and wiped at the sticky sweat on my brow. Four buildings surrounded the courtyard, one of them was definitely a stable and not a barn as I’d thought. Another looked to be a storage shed and the third was the more common type of barn. Which left the fourth, the house.

  I scanned the windows warily for any hint of activity. The noise from the three zombies should have alerted anything within. With no sign of movement, I moved towards the door.

  “Wait,” Georgia said and I turned back to her with an irritated look on my face that I couldn’t care to hide.

  “What?”

  “It’s a big house,” she said. “Three floors, probably a cellar too. We should get everyone together to search it.”

  “They can do the outbuildings.”

  “You think they’ll do that while we’re inside with any food and water?” she said with a grin. “No chance mate.”

  “Fine, you gather them up. I’ll be inside.”

  Without waiting for a response, I reached for the door handle and turned.

  “Dammit!”

  “Locked?” Georgia asked with a smirk and I nodded.

  “I’ll check the back,” I said as I eyed the door. It was made of wood without any glass panels that could be conveniently broken and given the choice, I’d rather leave it secure if I could. It might be the place to hide out until the zombies that were following us had passed.

  Someone had planted a garden along the front of the house and the sides. Rose bushes seemed the dominant plant of choice and it had clearly been well tended once, with white painted rocks forming the boundary and a number of complimentary plants to go with the roses. It had been growing wild for some time though and had become a mess of weeds.

  The whole country would be going the same way. Once immaculate gardens and parks would become overrun with aggressive weeds and the carefully pruned and trimmed vegetation would grow chaotically.

  In time, the towns and cities would become overrun too. As the human race died and the zombies, without food would begin to perish, the plants and smaller animals would take over. It would be a different world entirely in a decade and in a century or so, there would be little left to remember humanity at all. I couldn’t say that displeased me.

  My own feelings towards people were fairly obvious. I couldn’t have so joyfully slaughtered so many of them if I’d cared in any way. I certainly knew that I wouldn’t be around when the last human fell. I would die long before then no doubt.

  That should bother me, the thought of dying and while it never had, in recent months I’d been more aware of a general pleasure with life that I’d not had before. It was clear, even to me, that my friends had been a big part of that. And her, a treacherous part of my mind whispered.

  I shook my head to clear it of those thoughts and reminded myself, quite sternly, to pay attention to what I was doing or I would end up very dead, very soon.

  My already poor humour was not improved as I saw that there wasn’t a back door and muttering to myself, I returned to the front of the house.

  “Stables clear,” Jeremy said. He looked pale and at a look from his wife, shook his head. “You don’t want to go in there.”

  Marie held her child who half dozed against her mother’s s
houlder and she gave her husband a sympathetic smile as he moved over to join her. I swatted away a small swarm of flies that seemed determined to land on me and glanced at Georgia.

  “No other door,” I said and she shrugged.

  “Will have to break in.”

  “Anyone checked these guys pockets?” Abi asked as she nudged one of the corpses with the toe of her shoe. “Might have some keys.”

  “Go for it,” I said with a grin as her jaw dropped and she gulped.

  “I didn’t mean me.”

  “Well, we killed them. Only fair you check them,” Georgia said with a grin of her own.

  Everyone was familiar enough with the dead by now that they no longer paled at the foul odours or even with being near a body. They still had a reticence about touching them though.

  I had no intention of babying them so let her whine a little longer before just saying, “check for keys.”

  She looked at me as I stared straight back at her and swallowed whatever inane reply she had been about to make before reaching down and gingerly feeling in the pockets of the closest corpse.

  Once she’d checked all three, she shook her head and said, “sorry. No keys.”

  “Then we break in,” I said with more than a little exasperation. It would have been nice, just once, for things to go our way a little. We needed rest and not to keep running from one place to another.

  Rather than search for something to lever the door open with, I opted to go through a window instead. One of the rocks from the border of the flower bed was all it took to create a hole where a glass pane had been and in a few moments, I was inside.

  The house was laid out much like any other. Kitchen, dining room, living room, bedrooms and a couple of bathrooms. Georgia opted to take Abi and Lisa upstairs, leaving me with the small family. Since I didn’t exactly trust them not to get me killed, I sent them to the kitchen to search the cupboards while I moved from room to room, clearing each in turn.