by Ricky Fleet
“I understand. We’ve noticed an increase in the smelly bastards in the past few days. We can talk about options once we’ve held your friends off,” Max scowled.
“I’ll get the tractor,” Angela offered, “We can use some of the hay bales to form a wall. Bring your vehicles into the yard and we can fortify around them.”
“Thank you,” Holbeck replied, “and sorry.”
Max dismissed the apology with a wave and Angela winked as if to say, you can make it up to me later. With a roar of their massive engines, the APCs climbed the embankment and headed for the yard.
Eldridge shouted across to Harkiss on the other HMG. “Ready for a war?”
Eyes narrowing, his lips curled up at the edges into a scornful grin. It was a look that said; Me? I was born ready!
CHAPTER 25
The chapel was hushed as the mourners sat in quiet contemplation. John, Maura, and Greg lay in state, shrouded in white linen. Because of their catastrophic injuries, the two castle defenders had been wrapped in plastic first otherwise the blood would already be seeping through the cloth. Stephanie had also sketched a portrait of Paige from the photograph she had left Peter in her final moments. It was set within a baroque picture frame that had previously held a priceless painting. It rested on John’s chest, a symbol of his love and eternal protection of the young girl.
Kurt walked over to the drawing and traced his finger around the ornate pattern. Mr. Vincent had scowled as they carefully removed the artwork earlier, but kept his protests to himself. It was the first sign of life he had shown since entering his shocked trance after being temporarily banished.
“Thank you all for joining me to honour our fallen,” he said to the weeping figures, “I never had the pleasure of knowing Greg or Maura, but the way they fought, I know we’d have been good friends.”
He paused a moment, resting a palm on the forehead of his father.
“I also know John would be proud of what we’ve all achieved in such a short time, how we’ve all come together. We have a sanctuary from the horrors beyond the walls and, given time, I hope we can extend our boundary further. You know of our plan to save the innocent victims at the prison, but I think we owe it to ourselves to go much further than that. We survived. You survived. The prisoners survived. I just know there are more people out there and, if possible, we’ll do everything we can to save them.”
Some of the initial fear had gone and Kurt was proud to see people nodding in agreement.
“I’m not a praying man, but wherever our friends and family are right now, I hope they’re happy. Gloria, I know you’d like to say a few words.”
She walked over and embraced Kurt who was close to tears, before taking a place behind the pulpit.
“My faith has been tested beyond measure and I cannot rightly stand here and say I still believe in the Lord Almighty. If He is watching, though, I think it behoves us to say a small prayer in thanks. Please join me.”
She clasped her hands and lowered her head.
“The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.”
Many of the congregation muttered Amen, while the others remained silent after the prayer. In a world of scientific advancement which had rapidly been uncovering the mysteries surrounding the universe, belief in an omnipotent deity was declining apace. However, with the unspeakable evil loose in the world, even the most devout atheist in the room took some comfort from the divine words.
“Stephanie, I know you have a beautiful poem for us.” Gloria beckoned the teacher to approach.
“Thank you. I didn’t know your father, Kurt, but if he was anything like you, then I know he was a great man.”
Kurt wiped at his tears and smiled.
“This is a poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye, a lady I greatly admire.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.”
AUTHOR BIO
Ricky Fleet has been a lifelong horror fan ever since he was (almost) old enough to watch the original Romero trilogy. Those shambling horrors gave birth to an insatiable appetite that has yet to be sated.
After spending years working in the plumbing trade, he then decided to start teaching, passing on his knowledge to the next generation of engineers.
Born and raised in the UK, cups of tea are a non-negotiable staple of the English life and serve as brain fuel for his first love - writing.
With the Hellspawn series receiving love from across the world, the fourth novel in the saga has a dark edge that begins to explore the true horror of a world without rules. Work on the fifth installment has begun.
Infernal – Emergence is the first in his new demon series. A tale of conspiracy, untapped powers and the vast armies of Hell who yearn to tear our world apart. Only one man stands in their way; he just doesn’t know it yet.
Today he shares his time between his real life students, and the students of the zombie apocalypse in his first series: Hellspawn. At least the fictional students do as they’re told. Most of the time anyway.