Killing The Dead | Book 23 | Come The End

by Murray, Richard

“She’s been saying that for two days.”

  “Yeah, and she’s been working almost non-stop to try and do it. Not the easiest task right now. She can’t just pop to the local electronics store or order parts online. She’s having to build and piece together something that will be able to get across to the island and let us see what’s happening there.”

  “I know.”

  Didn’t make it easier to stomach though. The wait seemed to be leeching away my energy, leaving me tired and irritable as the few hours of sleep I managed each night was simply not enough.

  “Hey!” Isaac said by way of greeting as he came upon us. The anger and frustration on his soot-streaked face was a mirror of my own. “I’m sending a patrol out.”

  “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  “We need to do something, lass. Until that psycho boyfriend of yours manages to get some information from that poor bastard he’s torturing, we need to try.” His great hands were clenched into fists and he pounded his leg in frustration. “My lads and lasses, well, they’re antsy as it is with no word from the island and no supply ship. They’re liable to break if we keep getting little bloody attacks like this.”

  I could understand that. The enemy seemed to attack, and retreat as if goading us to chase them. Whether it was because they didn’t have the numbers to confront us head-on like Isaac suspected, or they were just tormenting us to entertain themselves while waiting for their main forces, as Ryan believed, it was wearing us all down.

  “They’ll be waiting to ambush you. I can’t allow it.”

  “Look! We need to be doing something. Every attack like this is killing us bit by bloody bit!”

  “We’ll have their location soon. When we do, we’ll-“

  “What? What the hell will we actually do?”

  “Enough, man!” Gregg snapped, looking pointedly at the curious stares from the people who had been drawn to the sound of the argument. “Time and a place, mate. This isn’t it.”

  “Pah!” He swiped his hand, cutting the air in front of him, as his face twisted in disgust. “Either give us a plan of action or step aside for someone who bloody well will!”

  With that, he turned and stalked away, face like thunder and she bellowed orders at those standing around doing little. I couldn’t help feeling like a little girl who had just been berated by a parent and all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry.

  “He’s not wrong,” Gregg whispered, leaning in towards me and frowning at anyone who came too close. “We need to do something.”

  “I know.”

  There was nothing else for it but to face what was happening on my orders and get the answers we needed. With them, I could come up with some plan of action, though I was so god-damned weary that the idea of someone else taking control was mighty appealing just then.

  We left Isaac shouting orders and headed back to the house. The black-garbed guards stepped aside for us to enter without issue and I hesitated by the front door, wondering if I should just go inside and hide away for a bit.

  Gregg’s gentle hand against the small of my back was enough to give me the strength to continue on and I crossed the gardens. I was stopped by one of the cultists standing stationary at the entrance to the small copse of trees.

  “Let me through.”

  “Forgive us,” one whispered. “We have been commanded not to.”

  I gaped at him and then glanced to Gregg who shrugged in response.

  “What do you mean you’ve been commanded not to?”

  “Our Lord Death has specifically ordered us to keep you away from what is happening within.”

  Typical! It was just like Ryan to actually try to be considerate but in the most infuriating way possible. I wanted to stamp my foot and scream at him but that was decidedly undignified and I would not embarrass myself in such a manner.

  “How about,” Gregg said, before I could say anything. “One of you lads goes in and tells him she is here and needs him for a moment.”

  “This can be done.”

  With that, the cultist who had spoken turned on his heel and disappeared into the trees. We were left with the tall form of the second guard, hard eyes fixed on me as though he were afraid I might try to run past him.

  Which, considering what Ryan might do to them if I did make it past them, would be incentive enough for him to keep me out by any means possible.

  I smiled then and caught the first hint of a frown in the drawing down of his brows which were all I could see through the eye-slits of his hood.

  “Precarious position,” I said, keeping my tone light while inside I fumed. “I get past you and he will be angry, but for you to stop me would mean laying your hands on me and possibly even hurting me. What do you think he would do to you if you did that?”

  “Lily!” Gregg hissed, grabbing my arm and pulling me away. “Don’t scare the poor bastard. He’s caught between a rock and a hard place.”

  I had no answer to that and settled into a silent sulk as I waited. Several minutes passed and then the cultist returned, just as a series of low screams issued from within those trees.

  “You may enter.”

  That seemed to be all that he was going to say, so with one final glance at my friend who shook his head to indicate he wouldn’t be heading in there, I set off.

  What little light we had was almost entirely gone, hidden by the branches of the trees above my head and I walked slowly, carefully. There was a light up ahead and I headed towards that flickering orange glow, hands outstretched to either side of me to make sure I didn’t walk into any of the trees.

  Another scream sounded from ahead, low and full of agony, it was the sound of a man who had been stripped of everything and had nothing left to give. His voice, hoarse and throat raw from all of the screaming he had been doing.

  A shiver ran through me and I slowed my pace further as I approached the edge of the clearing where a fire burned brightly.

  There were several dark-garbed cultists standing at ease around the suspended form of the captive. They made no sound of their own but they did not look away from what they were bearing witness to.

  Samuel, face drawn and brow furrowed with what seemed to be a permanent frown of displeasure, watched uneasily as his beloved messiah took his knife, hot from the fire, and slowly began to cut a long thin strip of skin from the prisoners back.

  The captive screamed, tears streaking his face, running through the blood that had dried sticky on his cheeks. His torso was covered in fine cuts, angry and red, that wept blood and pus, as the insects swarmed over him.

  “Good God!” I whispered, as Ryan cast away the strip of flesh and held out his hand.

  A pan was lifted from the fire, the sweet contents bubbling and steaming. In horror, I watched as Ryan took that pan in one hand and oh so carefully poured it over the open wound he had made by stripping away the skin.

  Boiling honey filled that wound, and the man screamed and screamed. Ryan, a look of intense concentration on his face, handed back the pan and draped a piece of string along the length of that wound. It hung down to coil on the leaf-covered floor below and he grinned, as he looked up, his eyes meeting mine.

  “Hello, Lily.”

  So, bloody cheerful. I had to swallow back the bile that threatened to spill out across the floor and I looked away, afraid of what I was seeing.

  For a long moment, I stood, listening to the crackle and pop of the flames, punctuated by the whimpering of the captive, as I tried not to vomit. Ryan, moved around the bound man to join me, something close to actual concern in his voice as he spoke my name.

  “You are unwell?”

  “Unwell?” I looked at him then, seeing innocent confusion in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  He looked back at the bound man and lifted his shoulder in a shrug.

  “There’s an ants nest nearby. The honey helps keep the wound fairly clean while attracting ants, wasps and flies. The string is there for the ants to climb up.”<
br />
  “No! That’s not what I meant.”

  “The rats will just climb up the ropes, they don’t need the string but they tend to be a bit shy. I’ve sent some of the minions to gather a few to bring back here.”

  “Oh, God!”

  “What is it?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “He hasn’t told me what I need to know.” The man who I loved more than I had once believed possible, looked back over his shoulder at the captive, a scowl forming on his face. “He should have talked days ago.”

  “How could he not have talked?”

  Again, Ryan glanced at the young man and then back to me, his face unusually troubled as he said, “because he’s more scared of them than of me.”

  “Them, who? The Riders?”

  “No, whoever it is they’ve been waiting to join them.” Another shrug of his shoulders. “He did let slip one thing.”

  “What?”

  “They’ll be here soon.”

  Chapter 24

  The heat of the fire did little to dispel the cold as the wind blew in off the sea, bringing with it heavy rain that had the tang of salt as it hit my lips, stinging my cheeks and irritating my eyes. The only sound besides the occasional pop and crackle of the fire was the staccato beat of the rain hitting the leaves of the trees around me.

  Silently, the prisoner wept, his limbs trembling with pain and exhaustion. Unable to sleep, the only relief he had was when he passed out from the pain or terror. Something that seemed to happen quickly once the rats began to climb over his naked form, biting at his skin, sharp teeth cutting into his flesh and leaving fresh sores for the insects to swarm over.

  Yet still, he didn’t speak.

  Oh, he had given me a great deal of information, but not what I wanted to know. That was something he refused to speak of and, as infuriating as that was, I could almost admire the strength of will it was taking to hold back.

  Almost.

  “My Lord Death.”

  I glanced up at the minion, brow furrowing for a moment in irritation as he intruded upon my ruminations. Then I saw what he held, and I smiled.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking the offered item.

  The prisoner’s eyes flickered open at my approach. Honey and saliva-coated his chin, mixed with the vomit from when his stomach had rebelled at the most recent forced feeding. He moaned softly, the tremble of his limbs growing as though he attempted to pull away from me and the thing I held before him.

  “You have earned a quick death,” I said, keeping my voice soft and as calming as I could. “One worthy of the bravery you have shown here.”

  No response, only a dull look in those red-rimmed eyes and I wondered idly if he was already beyond reason, his mind retreating in on itself as a way of avoiding the torments he endured.

  I hoped not.

  A gesture was all it took to have a minion step forward and tie a tourniquet around the prisoners left arm, just above the elbow. He pulled it tight enough that the limb almost immediately began to darken in colour as the blood flow was interrupted.

  “W-wha?”

  “Shh.” I patted his cheek, almost gently. “You know the question I have, yet you persist in your refusal to speak. Why?”

  “T-t-they w-will-“

  “You know what? I don’t really care. Oh, I am sure you have your reasons. They will harm your loved ones, or you have some insane hope that you will get free from your bindings and escape only to face some greater punishment from them for speaking.”

  He gaped at me wordlessly and my smile widened as I lifted my hand and the object it held.

  “You survived the zombie apocalypse. No doubt you saw some truly horrific things in those early days. Perhaps they were instrumental in you becoming the man you are today, a rapist and a murderer of the innocent.”

  I held up a hand, pressing one finger against his lips as he tried to speak, to defend himself.

  “Hush now, I don’t care for your reasoning. All I want is answers and since you are unwilling to provide them, I am going to do something that will undoubtedly kill you but might, at the very least, be both entertaining and informative.”

  Still, he stared, unsure of what was happening and what I was about to do, which made it all the more amusing.

  “You have seen what happens when a zombie bites someone, yes?” He nodded slowly. “Of course. If you die immediately, you will resurrect as one of them. However, if you survive, the infection will slowly kill you as it changes your body into the host the parasite needs.”

  I moved the syringe in my hand a little closer to his face so that he could clearly see the dark fluid within.

  “This is the blood taken from a zombie.” His eyes widened and his struggles renewed. “Of course, we have all seen what happens when the infection reaches the heart and the brain, but what, I wonder, will happen if it is injected into your arm, yet cut off from reaching your heart.”

  His head jerked then, looking at the tourniquet tied tightly around his arm and he began to weep and babble. I didn’t say anything else as I simply plunged the needle into his arm and pressed the plunger, sending that foul liquid straight into his veins.

  “Now, we wait,” I said, eyes fixed to the puncture mark. “The beauty of this is, well, you have four limbs. How painful do you think it will be as you have one decaying limb and I inject bleach into the other? As the blood vessels burn and the nerves are set alight?”

  The prisoner's struggles were wild and his shaking of the trees sent a cascade of water down over us. Ants, that had been swarming his back, scurried across his ruined flesh in an effort to escape that water.

  “Last chance,” I whispered softly as he began to writhe, pain twisting his features. “Tell me who is coming.”

  “I-I can’t!”

  His voice was a shriek filled with pain as the infection took root in his limb and I laughed at his predicament. I had been tortured, so I well understood the desire to not give in. At times, there was a stubborn refusal to speak purely out of spite.

  Damn them and the pain without end. They would have no satisfaction at breaking one’s will. No, the pain would end, eventually. The only victory you had left was to take your secrets to the grave with you.

  I had done that exact same thing and I understood the pain my prisoner was feeling, the helplessness as the torments were visited upon you without any way of escape or a chance to fight back.

  Of course, if the Genpact torturers had been any better at their jobs, I might have broken. Like my prisoner would.

  “Death is inevitable for you,” I continued. “You will die in agony over days and afterwards, you will hang here, between these trees, feeling an endless hunger that you will be unable to sate, bound as you are.”

  “The seasons will change and the world will move on, as you hang here, forgotten by all. Can you know for sure that your mind will be gone? There are some who think the soul of the person is trapped in that rotting form, unable to control themselves as they visit horrors upon those around them, tearing at flesh and raising more of their kind.”

  His bowels opened, foul stink filling the clearing that even the heavy rain couldn’t hide. A response of fear or just the honey-rich diet, I couldn’t say, but I pressed on regardless.

  “Imagine it, my friend. Hanging here, mind trapped inside a body that slowly rots. The birds would peck at your eyes even as the maggots burrow into your flesh. Would you be able to hear the vermin as they crawled over you, tearing at your body and growing fat as they devoured you?”

  “That does not have to be your fate.” Tears ran down the man’s cheeks and I reached up to brush them away with my finger. “I can free you of that. I can give you a quick and painless death, one that will allow you to finally rest. All you need to do is tell me what I want to know.”

  His mouth moved and I had to lean in close to pick up the whispered words from a voice laced with fear. For a few minutes that seemed to stretch into hours, the prisoner
spilt his confession, his sins, and his fears. He unburdened himself fully as he begged for forgiveness and then, then he told me what I had been waiting days to hear.

  My hands clenched into fists and I fought the urge to draw my knife and lash out as I stepped back from the prisoner, fury threatening to erupt like a volcano filled with pain and anger, rather than magma, and bringing death to all around me.

  “Get my Furies,” I said, spinning on my heel. “Tell them they can do as they please with the prisoner.”

  “Y-you promised!” he cried, despairing wail following me as I stormed out of the clearing.

  The two guards at the entrance to the trees turned at my approach and I spoke quickly, giving instructions and followed it with a command that had them pale beneath their hoods. Without a reply, they rushed away to do my bidding and I was alone.

  I stood for a moment, face turned up to the sky, letting the rain wash over me. I had failed before, in protecting my family. Years of misery and despair, trapped beneath the earth, had been my punishment for that failure.

  It would not happen again.

  Events were about to move quicker than I would have preferred and there was too little time to prepare, but there was no choice in the matter. If what the prisoner had told me were true then what I had suspected was without a doubt and the danger to my children, to Lily, was greater than they suspected.

  I stepped through the door and into the house, expecting silence but hearing quiet talking coming from the dining room. There was the soft glow of the terminals to light the room and I headed towards the room, knowing that Lily would likely be there.

  She was, and with her were Evelyn, Cass, Gregg and Isaac. They stood, clustered around Charlie’s workstation as they talked softly, eyes fixed to the screen.

  “The drone?” I asked, stopping beside Lily.

  She glanced at me, tired gaze full of fear and she nodded silently as her hand found mine. Tears dampened her cheeks and I leant forward, looking over Charlie’s shoulder at the monitor.

  There, on the screen was a video feed. It was low quality and stuttered every few seconds, but it was there. The image coming from the camera mounted beneath the drone that had made its journey across the Irish Sea.