by Perrin Briar
They entered the jungle in the direction the men had gone with Francis. As they made their way through the jungle Bill tore into the sugar canes, chewing, pausing when he needed to listen for fear he might give away their position. Then he resumed eating.
The night was dark, impenetrable. Rupert would be in the same predicament, except he would be camped somewhere, prepared to take advantage of the noise the family were making.
Bill took in his family, and a feeling of immense pride took him, a bolt of fear shaking him to the core. He didn’t want to involve them in this, but he had no choice. To head into the undergrowth by himself was suicide, especially in the condition he was currently in. And worse, he had brought this down upon them. If he hadn’t been so desperate, hadn’t wanted with every fiber of his being to want to expand the island and its community, he would have seen the kind of people he had invited into his family’s life.
“We’ll follow your lead, Pa,” Jack said.
His usual sense of joking mockery went out the window. He knew how dangerous this was. They picked up their weapons and headed outside. They stepped into the jungle.
The jungle was a frightening place at night. It was when the most dangerous creatures came out to play. More than once Bill felt something slither past his ankles, brush against his hair. There were the usual cat calls, chirrups and whistles in the dead of night. Though the family were careful in where they placed their feet, they perhaps didn’t need to be, as the wild animal noises were more than enough to drown them out.
The family spread out, ten yards between each of them, and Jack high in the treetops, senses on high alert. Their brains sifted through the familiar sights and sounds and smells to isolate those they were not familiar with, what could be a threat.
They weren’t just keeping a lookout for the dangerous men, but for the undead and their cousins, the Spinners, that roamed the jungle too.
Bill spotted something out the corner of his eye. He started, naturally pulling back from what he thought was an aggressive assailant. When he looked back he found it was Fritz waving it him.
“What?” Bill mouthed.
Fritz pointed to something at his feet. He had evidently found something. Bill waved to Ernest, who turned to wave to Liz. Meanwhile, Fritz had already shifted his attention to the treetops in an attempt to catch Jack’s eye.
The family formed up on Fritz’s location, folding up like an accordion. Ernest was clearly disappointed at what they had reassembled for. A broken twig and some flattened moss. But Bill peered intently at it, hand on his chin.
“I think they went this way,” Fritz said, gesturing with his finger.
“Yes, I agree,” Bill said. “Jack, I want you to get as high as you can, and climb as slowly as you can too. I don’t want you to garner any attention. And if they start shooting at you, I don’t want you to be an easy target.”
“They’ll think he’s a chimp and leave him alone,” Ernest said.
“This is serious,” Bill said.
“I am being serious,” Ernest said. “Look at him.”
“Look at me?” Jack said. “Look at you!”
“All right, all right,” Bill said. “Let’s try and focus, shall we. Eventually we’re going to come across their position, and they’re going to be expecting us. They might set a trap, or otherwise do something we’re not ready for. We’ll need to act on the fly. We’ll do like what we did in Falcon’s Nest earlier. Jack, you’ll provide a distraction from the treetops. As soon as you do, get out of there. They’ll fire at you. You can return if our attempt to grab or otherwise incapacitate them fails.”
Jack nodded. Serious as a lance corporal.
“We’ll circle around,” Bill said. “We’ll come at them from different directions. Remember, they are armed—with at least one gun, so you all need to be careful and not take any unnecessary risks. Then, if we’re lucky-”
“Yaarrggghhhh!”
The haunted scream echoed across the jungle, silencing the nocturnal animals.
“Did anyone else hear that?” Ernest said.
“Of course we heard it,” Fritz said. “We’re not deaf.”
It didn’t sound like it could have issued from Francis’s throat, but then, who knew what someone sounded like when they were filled with terror.
“We have to go,” Fritz said. “Francis might be in danger.”
“Stick to the plan,” Bill said. “Go now. Go.”
They rushed through the undergrowth, and for the first time since they began their little midnight adventure, Bill felt genuine terror. He wasn’t afraid of what was in the darkness, the undead, the Spinners, the dangerous animals. He was afraid of what he didn’t know was out there. He was afraid of what might have happened to Francis, of what it might mean if they didn’t find his body there in the clearing, or only parts of it…
Bill shook his head. It did no good to dwell on such things. He needed to focus on the task in hand. Focus, and that way he might overcome his shaking hands, might focus his eyes on a single thing rather than having them flitting from one object to another.
He wasn’t scared. He was terrified.
He remembered all the things he’d done with Francis, precious few considering the years he’d been alive. He would ensure to do more with him, promising himself he would not let a minute pass by where he couldn’t enjoy Francis.
He was surprised when he came to the clearing. Once again he had forgotten himself, letting his imagination take him away, away from this place, as far and distant as the sun, and just as bright. He stepped back, crouching down and hiding behind the canopy of a thick bush.
Bill could see the clearing on the other side, could see the grass and dirt that had been pushed aside. He leaned forward to get a better view.
He almost threw up in his mouth.
A small crumpled figure lay in the center of the clearing, the scene illuminated by moonlight like a scene from a stage play. The crux of the story from which all others revolved.
The tiny body did not move.
Chapter Twenty-Six
DESPITE HIS own warnings to the others not to act rash, Bill found himself stepping forward. He couldn’t prevent himself from doing so anymore than he could stop himself from breathing.
And despite knowing, absolutely knowing, this was in all likelihood a trap devised by Rupert, he could not help himself. He ran across the clearing.
What surprised him most was he wasn’t the only one to do so. He wasn’t even the first to arrive at the small bundle.
“Francis!” Liz screamed. “My baby! No!”
Bill fell to his knees beside Liz, before their youngest son. This scene would haunt Bill for the rest of his life. And even if it was a trap, then so be it, just so long as he didn’t have to put up with this pain any longer.
Liz extended a shaking hand toward the unmoving body. Ernest, Fritz and Jack stood behind. Bill’s stomach clenched, spilling the contents onto the ground in a disgusting splatter.
Liz cradled her little boy in her arms, rocking him back and forth gently. Liz cried openly, letting the tears run down her face, pressing her hand to his hair that had always had a mind of its own.
Francis’s eyes fluttered open slowly.
A collective intake of breath. Was it really him, or would it be an undead version? There was no way to know what had happened to him, what he would become. None of them backed away from him. They wouldn’t be able to fight him, harm him, no matter what condition he was in.
“Mom?” Francis said.
Liz and Bill let out a small croak of relief, their bodies juddering as they took the little boy in their arms and held him close. Tears spilled down Liz’s face, curling around the smoothness of her cheeks, gathering at the point of her chin. They dripped, falling on Francis’s clothes.
“Francis,” Liz said. “Are you all right? Are you okay? Have you been hurt?”
Now, able to think clearly, Ernest cast around, taking in the dense foliage around them
, something came to him like a shot of sunlight through a thick mist, powerful and revealing. This didn’t add up.
If this was a trap, as it clearly appeared to be, then why hadn’t it been sprung yet? Were they waiting for something else? Were they waiting for this moment of hope to hit them first? Knowing it would inflame their despair, knowing they would all be together now, easier to take down. Were they watching them right now?
The foliage rustled.
Ernest’s head snapped in its direction. There was a man, a man in black. He wore rags, black as night, that melted into the foliage at his back. An undead. And yet it did not step forward, did not approach the family. Appraising. Like… something intelligent.
The rest of the family was too taken up with relief at finding Francis in one piece to notice the man.
“How did you get away?” Bill said to Francis. “Where are the bad men?”
In the moment Ernest had looked away, he found the man was no longer standing on the periphery of the clearing. He scrubbed the area with his eyes to locate him, but he found him nowhere. It only served to set Ernest’s senses on even higher alert. Had he just imagined him standing there?
“The bad men are gone,” Francis said. “The other man sent them away.”
“The other man?” Fritz said. “What other man?”
“The Overlord In Black,” Francis said.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
THEY FOLLOWED Ernest’s suggestion to walk a different route home to the direct one they had taken to get there. It took twice as long to get home, but they all felt safer because of it. They kept a wary lookout, with Liz cradling Francis in her arms.
“The man said I had to tell you,” Francis said.
“Sh,” Liz said. “We’ll talk about it when we get home.”
Francis pursed his lips, not happy with the situation.
They were exhausted by the time they returned to Falcon’s Nest. They performed a sweep of both treehouses before they had a cup of tea and discussed what they were going to do next.
“First, we need to figure out how we’re going to defend ourselves against these characters,” Bill said.
“But they’re not here anymore,” Francis said. “The man sent them away.”
“Sent who away, baby?” Liz said.
Liz had Francis in her lap. She wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying. None of them were.
“They know our defenses,” Fritz said. “They could come at us any time they want.”
“Right,” Bill said. “Then we ought to cover the weaknesses in our defenses.”
“There are too many,” Liz said. “We can’t keep watch over the whole island all of the time!”
“Listen to me!” Francis shouted.
They all turned to look at him. It was rare for the little man to have tantrums like this. Francis had his hands balled up in a fit of anger, prepared to explode if they didn’t pay the attention he demanded.
“The man sent them away, and they are gone now,” Francis said.
“Who sent them away?” Liz said.
“The Overlord In Black,” Francis said. “He overpowered them and told them to go.”
“What man is this?” Bill said.
“A man wearing black,” Francis said, frowning with the effort of trying to make himself understood. “I think he was a bad man, but he can talk.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Ernest said. “I’ve seen him. The man. I thought it was just my imagination, but he sounds just like Francis’s description. It’s him. The man he keeps talking about. He was there, in the clearing.”
“Then why didn’t you tell us he was there?” Bill said.
“Because when I turned back to see him, he was gone already,” Ernest said. “And… well, there was something strange about him.”
“Strange how?” Bill said.
“For God’s sake,” Liz said, throwing up her hands. “How many other people are there on this island? I thought we were marooned here by ourselves and now it turns out there’s a crowd. There are the natives on another nearby island, a group of three men from a pirate ship, a pirate ship full of seamen that apparently travel around the area, and another man here too. Just what we need! This whole time we thought we were alone and instead it turns out it’s a verifiable city!”
“What was strange about this man you saw?” Bill said.
“The way he stood there,” Ernest said. “The way he held himself. He didn’t constantly keep moving like all the other undead we’ve seen. He was like a normal man.”
“Then how do you know it wasn’t just that?” Fritz said. “How do you know he wasn’t just a man?”
“He wasn’t,” Ernest said. “His clothes were torn, his skin was pale.”
“Ernest is right,” Francis said, feeling the need to back Ernest up the same way his elder brother had backed up his own story. He smiled and nodded to Ernest. Comraderie between brothers. “The man is not like other bad men. He can talk to them, but he does it without opening his mouth.”
“What do you mean?” Bill said. “He can tell the bad men what to do and they do it?”
“Yes,” Francis said. “And sometimes he doesn’t even need to open his mouth. He talks to them some other way.”
“How do you know this?” Liz said.
“Because he did it to them when I was watching him,” Francis said. “It’s how he controlled Rupert and Manuel. They held them down and drank some of their blood. I saw him. He licked their faces and then let them go. Then he spoke in Rupert’s voice, and Manuel chased him, and they left and they were gone.”
The family shared a confused expression. They didn’t quite understand what they were hearing. Something about a psychic undead? How could something like that, something that threatened to break the rules of the universe, exist? It was a conundrum, that was for sure.
“How come you believe Ernest but you don’t believe me?” Francis said.
“We do believe you, baby,” Liz said. “It’s just easier to believe a story when more than one person tells it, that’s all.”
Bill was the first to recover. He smiled and put his hand to Francis’s cheek.
“You’ve had a long day, young man,” he said. “I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”
“But I’m not sleepy,” Francis said, not bothering to stifle his yawn.
“Clearly,” Bill said.
“The man said…” Francis said, eyes heavy like shutter doors. “He said he’s coming for us. For all of us.”
Francis’s eyes were already beginning to close, and within minutes he was already drifting to sleep.
“There’s something I don’t understand,” Liz said. “Why would he leave Francis alive like that for us to find? What are his intentions?”
“To do just what he ended up doing,” Bill said. “Pass on a message to us.”
“Pass on a message?” Liz said. “You don’t think…”
“That there are some intelligent undead out there?” Bill said. “Yes, I do. And I don’t just think they’re only out there anymore. They’re right here, on this island with us. We’re in grave trouble.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
THEY WERE exhausted to the bone and decided there was little they could do that evening. They would get some shuteye to prepare them for the inevitable dangers and events that would present themselves in the following days.
The last to sleep, as usual, were Bill and Liz, who stood on the balcony looking out at the jungle.
“I’m sorry,” Bill said to Liz as she approached him.
“For what?” Liz said.
“For not listening to you,” Bill said. “I should have listened to you from the start. You want me to tell you you’re right?”
“No,” Liz said. “It’s enough to know that I was.”
She smiled, not directing her eyes at him. Bill smiled too, and then looked at his hands.
“I just wanted to believe they were good,” Bill said. “So much t
hat it made me blind to the kind of people they really are.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Liz said. “To prevent you from making those kinds of mistakes.”
“But I ignored you and went ahead with what I wanted to do anyway,” Bill said. “I tried to force you and the boys to accept Rupert and Manuel even though they weren’t to be trusted. And look what it almost cost us. Francis. We almost lost him.”
Liz wove her fingers through Bill’s, pulling his hand toward her and kissing his fingers.
“But we didn’t lose him,” Liz said.
“We got lucky,” Bill said. “And depending on luck or miracles is a losing strategy. I need to have my eyes wide open and not just hope.”
“We will,” Liz said. “From now on. So, a pair of dangerous men enter the jungle and are disposed of with ease by an intelligent Lurcher. Really fills you with confidence, doesn’t it? I thought being on an island would mean we’d be safer.”
“We are safer,” Bill said. “But we’re living in a totally different world now. I doubt anywhere is very safe now. You can’t get much safer than up here in the trees. The undead can’t reach us. We are safe.”
Liz smiled, but it was fraught with concern. Bill took her in his arms and embraced her tight. Liz couldn’t ignore the squirming sensation in the pit of her stomach. If there was such a thing as a talking Lurcher, who knew what else was possible.
“What are we going to do?” Liz said.
“We’re going to fight him,” Bill said. “Defeat him. We’ve beaten them before.”
Yes, Liz thought. But never one as powerful as this.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go to bed. We’ll need a good night’s sleep if we’re going to think up a solution on how to get ourselves out of this.”
“You’re right,” Bill said.
He let Liz lead him into the bedroom. Hopefully in the morning Bill would awaken with the effects of the poison lifted. They would need to be firing on all cylinders if they wished to stand a chance against this new foe.