‘But that’s the main road into Carlyon,’ Patrick replied, his thumb stroking his scar while he studied the map, ‘not only will there be more chance that we’ll run into gridlocked traffic, but I’m guessing if it is passable, this Sergeant Ridge and his convoy originally came that way, so we’ll also encounter a lot more of the Dead too.’
When Liz had turned up with a face from Steve’s past, it had been a reunion full of mixed emotions for him. As elated to see Karen as Steve was, his joy was tainted by the news that his friend, her brother, had died. For Karen, seeing a friendly face again after the terrors she had endured since waking up next to her brother’s corpse, had opened a window to her grief and as she climbed up into the cart, she fell weeping into Steve’s arms. With her face pressed against his chest to muffle her sobs, she had finally allowed herself to mourn for Matt.
‘I see motherhood hasn’t stopped you from acting like a lunatic?’ Imran had said to Liz, holding her tight in his arms, as he kissed the top of her head.
‘What choice did I have?’ she had replied, looking up into his dark loving eyes. ‘When Karen said you were going the wrong way, I knew I had to come, we have to get Charlie back, we have to.’
‘But why did you bring Karen with you?’ asked Steve, looking over to Liz.
‘No, no, she was right,’ said Karen, finally pushing herself away from Steve’s chest to wipe away her tears. ‘I could’ve been anyone, she was just keeping the others at the convent safe, and anyway, I made a promise to myself that I would do all I could to help get the baby back to his mother, for Matt’s sake.’
‘Thank you,’ said Liz quietly, reaching across to take Karen’s hand, ‘and for the record, I’m glad you are who you say you are, and you’re right, we might need all the help we can get.’
Karen gave Liz a shaky smile and after giving her fingers a light squeeze in return, seemed visibly to put aside her grief again. Her pain could be dealt with at a later date, now there was a job to do. A job Matt had died for.
‘Right,’ said Karen, pushing a lock of her hair that had come loose from her plait behind her ear, ‘so what’s the plan then?’
After much discussion, they had decided to cover as much ground as they could before they lost the light. Travelling at night was dangerous enough when they were familiar with the roads, out here, in unknown territory, it would be suicidal to carry on in the dark. They would just have to assume the Sergeant and his convoy were making bad time too. If they could somehow get to the bay before them, or prevent them from boarding their transport, at least then they would have a chance. If not, with none of them with any real sailing experience, it didn’t look promising.
‘Move out of the light for a second will you, Phil,’ said Liz, nudging the big man with her elbow, ‘I want to check something out.’
‘You’re the second person today that’s called me fat,’ Phil grumbled, twisting his body so he wasn’t blocking any of the light spilling in through the spy holes.
Rolling her eyes, Liz lifted a section of the map up to catch the light.
‘Yes,’ she said, her finger quickly tracing a line across the map.
‘What?’ asked Imran and Patrick together.
‘The train lines,’ she said looking from Patrick to Imran excitedly, ‘we can use the train line, it goes all the way to Carlyon bay station.’
‘And who said motherhood made your brains go soft?’ said Phil, jokingly pinching Liz’s cheek.
The idea to use the train lines to bypass the forever twisting lanes that criss-crossed Cornish countryside, had not originally been one of their own but that of the insane leader of a religious cult they had encountered over a year ago. The cult had used it as a means of taking stolen children back to their compound swiftly, without encountering the Dead unnecessarily, but what had once been used to take a child away, now offered the chance to bring one home.
‘So how do we get on the line?’ asked Karen. ‘Surely it’s fenced off somehow?’
‘Not at rail crossings,’ Imran mumbled, pushing his face close to Liz’s so they could both scan the map for a likely spot, ‘the rails dip down level with the road. All we have to do is find one, preferably with the gate up or still able to move.’
‘There!’ said Liz, jabbing a finger at a point on the map and quickly tilting it toward Patrick who sat in the driving seat. ‘Patrick, do you think we could get here by nightfall?’
Patrick placed his finger in the same position and took the map from Liz to examine the new route they would need to take.
‘Hmm, probably,’ he said biting his lip as he concentrated on the map, ‘but we’d be cutting it fine, and we’ll have to find somewhere safe to sleep before the sun goes down. We’re not risking entering an unknown building in the dark, either we check it out when there’s still light, or we sleep sitting up. I don’t want anyone bitching about sore necks tomorrow if we do.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ said Steve, jokingly, ‘we promise.’
‘Sorry,’ Patrick replied, realising from the expressions of his younger companions just what tone had crept into his voice, ‘sometimes the P.E. teacher in me likes to remind me he’s still there.’
‘And what did you do before, before, you know,’ Karen began to ask Phil after Patrick had set Delilah moving again.
‘Before the Dead came and ripped everything and everyone I ever knew to pieces?’ Phil asked, slowly crossing his thick arms.
It was odd to find someone who had been so cloistered from the everyday life with the Dead that they were unaware of the general faux pas of asking about people’s lives before the Dead came. When a person’s past was likely filled with horrific memories, you didn’t go prodding for details.
‘Butcher,’ Phil finally said with a small smile, not wanting to make Karen feel bad for showing an interest, ‘I was a butcher, and unfortunately with all this meat walking around, the butcher in me is still there, alive and kicking.’
It took them well into the afternoon to reach the level crossing Liz had located on the map. Above them, the sky that that morning had been such a clear blue, a promise of the freshness of the spring day to come, had started to darken with angry grey clouds over to the east.
‘I don’t like the look of those clouds,’ Patrick mumbled, peering up at the sky through his viewing slit, ‘perhaps we should find somewhere for the night now, before we get up onto the train line?’
‘And who knows when we’ll be able to find another level crossing where we can get back on the road,’ he continued, turning to look back at the squashed travelling companions in the cart. ‘Then we could be travelling half the night, I really don’t want Samson or Delilah to get a soaking if they don’t have to.’
‘Agreed,’ said Liz, nodding, ‘but where?’
Both of the horses at some point in the past had been the only thing standing between her and a horrendous death, and she cared for them both too much to risk them getting needlessly sick.
‘Have you room to turn round?’ asked Steve, leaning forward to look over Patrick’s shoulder.
‘Err, yes… just about,’ Patrick replied, judging how wide the road they were presently on was, ‘why?’
‘About ten minutes ago, we passed a turning that had an old sign, it said something about a nursery,’ said Steve, moving aside his rifle as he sat back down. ‘They must have had some sort of secure building if they sold to the public, even if it was just a port-a-cabin, it should be okay for one night.’
So after a brief pause to turn Delilah and the cart round, they found themselves back tracking to the turning where Steve had seen the sign. What they found when they finally pulled through the gate of ‘Crampion Nursery and Garden Centre’, was far more than they had hoped or expected.
The Nursery was a series of three large greenhouses, now little more than metal frames holding onto the last remnants of shattered panes of glass, which all butted onto a sound but dilapidated looking main building. The contents of the greenhouses, left untended
by Man and open to the elements, had grown into a riot of huge shrubs and plants. Greenery now completely covered every spot within the metal frames, while ivy, wisteria, and unidentifiable creepers raced with each other to rise up and along the metal supports. On the centre of the main building’s slate tiled roof, stood an elaborate leaded pyramid shaped skylight. At some point, it had also fallen victim to the flying debris that had wreaked such destruction on the greenhouses next to it, for two sides of the pyramid were now devoid of their glass completely, the torn strips of lead hanging impotently in twisted shapes.
‘Well, the perimeter fence should have kept most of the Dead out,’ Patrick said, flicking the reins to urge Delilah up to a weed infested cobbled entranceway, ‘and no cars or wrecks in the car park either, could be a good sign.’
‘Now we just have to get the door open,’ said Phil, reaching for two of the crowbars. ‘Steve, fancy giving me a hand? Imran, cover us.’
‘No problem,’ Imran replied, hoisting himself up and pushing open the top hatch to scout for any unwelcome corpses with eating bloody flesh on their minds, ‘Clear.’
As Steve jumped down from the cart, he leaned over to stretch the aching muscles in his legs.
‘Come on, slow-poke,’ said Phil, already jamming the chisel end of his crowbar in between the two large wooden doors to try to pry them open.
‘Sorry,’ Steve replied, jogging over to Phil.
With a splintering crack, one of the doors suddenly flew open just as Steve was about to help.
‘Show off!’ he said, smiling at his friend.
‘Wood must have been rotten,’ Phil replied, shrugging his shoulders as he stepped and reached up to unlock the remaining door. ‘Don’t worry, tough guy, now that you’re here, you can help me check it out for any of the Dead.’
‘Great,’ grumbled Steve, adjusting his hold on the crowbar so he could use it more like a club.
Stepping into the dimly lit building, Steve was surprised to find a mottled covering of grasses and weeds growing out of a stretch of waterlogged carpet that ran past the single cashier’s desk and further into the small store. The whole placed smelled of what could only be described as green things growing, but with a good portion of wet earth and damp rot thrown in for good measure.
‘Guess there’s a burst pipe somewhere,’ Steve whispered, his feet making a squishing sound with each step.
‘Hmmm,’ replied Phil, listening intently for any movement from inside.
Opposite the cashier’s desk, a large rack of what had once been potted flowering plants had been reduced to withered dry husks, with only those on the bottom row whose roots had been able to grow down to the sodden carpet for water, showing any sign of life. But further in the store, it was quite a different story. Inside, there were row upon row of large pots and planters, each overflowing with a variety of flowers, large ferns, shrubs, and tall bamboo bushes. They had been left to grow unchecked, amid a blanket of expanding green moss, to create a plush hidden garden within the walls of the building.
Walking slowly along the outside rows of planters, Steve and Phil began to check the shop for any signs of the Dead. Above them, the soft patter of water falling through the broken sky light told them the rain clouds had finally caught up with them. After thankfully finding nothing amid the explosion of wet greenery, they moved onto checking the back of the shop. Here, they were greeted by a strange motionless army of concrete Roman goddesses, nymphs and gnomes, but still the Dead were nowhere to be seen.
‘Looks like nobody’s home,’ whispered Steve, resting the crowbar over his shoulder.
‘Just one more place to check,’ answered Phil, pointing with his weapon to a single door with the words ‘office- staff only’ on it, made up of stick on letters.
Standing either side of the door with their weapons ready, Steve reached down to turn the handle.
‘Locked,’ he whispered, trying it a second time.
‘Not for long,’ Phil replied, jamming the end of his crowbar between the door and its frame.
Unlike the main doors, this one in the far corner of the building had been more protected from the elements, but even so, it still had little chance against Phil’s brute strength. With a bang, the door suddenly flew open, hitting the wall inside. With his feet apart and his weapon held high, ready to come crashing down on the skull of one of the Dead, Steve jumped into the room.
‘Oh,’ he said, the crowbar returning to its resting place on his shoulder, ‘it’s empty.’
‘You sound disappointed,’ said Phil, looking about the dark office that had thankfully been able to keep out the worst of the damp and mould.
‘Nah,’ he said, leaning against the edge of a desk, ‘just didn’t expect something to go our way… makes a change.’
‘Well, don’t jinx it, soldier,’ said Phil, pushing one of the other tables against the wall. ‘Come on, give me a hand, open that blind, we’ve found our room for the night.’
Later, Karen’s eyes flickered open. She could hear the soft patter of rain against the window, and as she lay wrapped in a blanket on the office floor, an involuntary shiver went through her. She had dreamt of Matt. She remembered images of him stroking her hair with blood covered hands, telling her everything would be alright, feeling the coldness of his touch as he embraced her, and then as she looked up into her brother’s face, the horror of seeing his corpse looking back at her with nothing but hunger in his film covered eyes. But she was awake now, and with each second that passed, the images faded and flitted to the darkest corners of her mind, unfortunately, promising to return another time when she slept.
Lifting her arm, she could see from the illuminated dial of her watch that she had only been asleep for a few hours, and despite the chill in the air, she knew the pressure in her bladder was a demand that could not be ignored. As quietly as she could, Karen stood up, wrapping the blanket about her shoulders to keep out the cold. With just the glowing embers from the fire they had lit in a portable barbeque earlier to light her way, she gingerly stepped over the lumpy shapes of Steve and the other men lying on the floor. In the doorway, she could see Liz on watch, sitting with her back against the doorframe and her sword across her lap. Liz turned to look at Karen as she stepped from the darkness.
‘Can’t sleep?’ Liz asked in a whisper.
‘Bit cold, that’s all. I guess heating was the one thing the base had going for it,’ she said softly, leaning against the opposite side of the door frame, ‘that and toilets. I need a pee.’
‘Well, at least you’ve got plenty of bushes to pick from to go behind,’ Liz whispered, the light from the embers reflecting off her smiling eyes, ‘the place is full of them.’
‘Lucky me,’ Karen replied, stepping over Liz’s outstretched legs.
‘You’ll get used to it,’ Liz said, reaching up to touch Karen’s arm, ‘privacy may be in short supply, but at least you’re free now.’
Karen looked down at the young woman bathed in shadow. Sadly, Karen knew her own freedom had been paid for with her brother’s life, but she appreciated Liz’s sentiment so she forced her lips into a sad smile.
‘Don’t go too far,’ Liz whispered, giving Karen’s arm a comforting squeeze before releasing her.
Karen gave a nod that probably went unseen in the darkness and walked over to the rows of large planters in the centre of the building. Letting the glossy leaves of some exotic plant slip through her fingers as she walked by, she looked up at the broken skylight, now a slightly lighter patch of blackness against the dark ceiling. It was colder here, and as she pulled her blanket tighter about her, she paused to listen to the calming sound of the rainwater falling. But her urgent bladder would not let her enjoy the moment for long, so with a sigh, she undid her belt buckle and dropped her trousers. Somewhere amongst the foliage behind her, she could hear a soft rustling sound. A mouse or some other small nocturnal creature was out foraging. Forced to rely on only Nature’s bounty, now that Man had stopped obligingly leavi
ng his scraps for them to feast upon, the creature stopped its frantic movements as it became aware of Karen’s presence.
‘Don’t mind me, little mouse,’ Karen whispered, pulling up her trousers.
Suddenly, with a crashing of leaves and broken branches, something large fell through the skylight. With her heart hammering in her chest, Karen froze, her wide eyes desperately trying to pierce the wall of foliage in front of her. She could hear footsteps running towards her, and as the sound of something stumbling through the branches grew closer, Karen finally managed to force her feet to take a step back.
‘Karen!’ came Liz’s urgent whisper from somewhere in the darkness.
‘Something fell…’ she began.
Without warning, a large shape broke from the shadows of the tall plants, barrelling into her. Crying out in surprise, Karen was knocked backwards, falling down hard on to something metal. Crying out again as the metal object dug deeply into her back, Karen did not have to see her attacker to know it was one of the Dead, she could smell it.
‘Liz!’ she screamed, desperately trying to push the Dead thing off of her and cursing herself for leaving her guns back in the office.
In the darkness, Karen could only catch glimpses of the Dead fiend that wanted to sink its teeth into her. A glint of wet bone, a tuft of hair on a patch of lose hanging skin, the mould covered back of an emaciated hand, all were tiny snapshots of the horror on top of her, anxious to feast on her flesh. She could hear Liz running through the shop, knocking aside plants and containers in her bid to find her, but Karen knew if she didn’t free herself from beneath the animated corpse within seconds, her life would be over. Already the corpse was darting forward to snap at her with its blackened teeth. With a scream of panic, Karen managed to work her hands up against the struggling Dead man’s chest and push. But as she did so, her hands sank sickeningly deep into something wet and putrid. It took her a fraction of a second to realise the very skin and flesh of his chest was sloughing away from his ribcage. Fighting the urge to vomit, Karen used this to her advantage and dug in with all the force she could muster. As she pushed aside the connecting tissue between the Dead man’s ribs, Karen hooked her fingers through the gap and grabbed hold of the bone. Then, making sure to keep her mouth closed, she turned her head to the side and yanked her arms abruptly upwards over her shoulders. This lifted the Dead man up along her body, splattering her face with cold stinking fluids and lumps of rancid flesh, but now that her head was level with his stomach, she was at least free of the bulk of the Dead man’s body, allowing her to slip to one side and out from beneath him. The Dead man, realising he had lost his prize, quickly twisted back to grab her, but as Karen finally kicked her legs out from under him, she saw a flash of reflected light as Liz’s blade sliced through the air. With a thud, the Dead man’s head bounced off into the darkness, ricocheting off of a display of mould covered gardening aprons.
Lanherne Chronicles (Book 3): Last Days With The Dead Page 18