Six Days With the Dead (15 page)

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They had only been on the road again for an hour and a half when the rain caught up with them. Soft rumbling overhead had grown into a full blown thunder storm, dropping large heavy raindrops and lighting the sky with flashes of lightning. The drumming of the rain on the cart roof, was now a constant noise.

‘
What happens if the pylons get struck by lightning?’ Liz asked, still thinking about the substation community ‘Wouldn’t they all just fry?’

‘
The guards watch out for storms, as well as for the Dead,’ Charlie replied, steering Delilah round a small fallen tree, ‘and if they see one brewing they all bunk down with the animals in the buildings below.’

‘
Seems more trouble than it’s worth that place,’ Imran said, ‘and they attract more of the Dead than we do, moving around and being more visible behind just a chain fence.’

‘
Well it works for them I suppose. Who are we to tell them how to live their lives,’ Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘But you’re right, it wouldn’t be my first choice of home.’

As the thick sheets of rain cont
inued to fall, Charlie was having trouble seeing the road in front of him, at one point, missing a turning and having to double back on themselves to get back on the right route, they were relieved when the tops of the pylons finally came into view.

As exp
ected, when Delilah pulled the cart up to the Substation’s gate, the Dead were there, pawing at the fence.

‘
Why haven’t they dealt with them?’ Imran asked, indicating the six walking Dead.

‘
They’re probably in the buildings and don’t know they’re here’ Charlie said, frowning ‘Sloppy though, very sloppy. If I lived here there’d be someone on watch no matter what the weather was like!’

‘
Well I guess it’s up to us then,’ Liz said, pulling her sword free of its sheath.

‘
Don’t know how good my aim’s going to be in this rain but I’ll do my best,’ Imran said.

‘
Right on the count of three, then,’ Charlie said, pulling one of his ice-picks from his back ‘one… two… three.’

O
n three, Imran flipped the top hatch open, taking aim at a Dead man that turned in his direction. Simultaneously, Liz and Charlie jumped down from the carts two side hatches. With the ground slippery under foot they walked slowly to the group of animated Dead. Liz heard the twang from Imran’s bow, the heavy rain making the arrow just miss its mark and plunge deep into the Dead man’s eye. Doing no real damage to the walking corpse, which was already missing an arm, it continued to stumbled in the direction of the cart, the prospect of living flesh forcing one foot in front of the other. Imran took a second shot and a third until this corpse finally fell to the mud, dead.  Liz and Charlie each chose opponents and moved in for the kill. Charlie had chosen a large man, dressed in rotting blood stained army fatigues, this thing may have once been a solider. With a mighty swing Charlie ruptured its decaying skull with his ice pick. Dark clotted blood and brain matter splattered his arm. Not waiting to pull it free, he automatically grabbed the other ice pick from his chest, with a smooth practice motion, and moved onto the next corpse. With a quick glance in Liz’s direction he saw her using her blade with the usual finesse and power. Her blade arched high, removing a Dead woman’s arm at the elbow as it reached for her. Carrying the arc through, the blade continued its momentum, decapitating the walking cadaver. Barely stopping for a breath, Liz turned to the next Dead thing reaching for her. All the while arrows flew, most missing their all important killing shot. A small woman, her age undetectable, as mouldy skin hung loose and torn from her face and rotting breasts, stepped up to Charlie, keen to plunge black teeth into his warm flesh. With a force that would knock most men out cold, he punched her full in the face with his wrist knife. The woman stilled instantly, as the blade tore through the decaying flesh of her face and into her brain. With a kick from his large booted foot, her body flew backwards off of his knife to lay motionless in the mud. Liz had moved onto something that was probably a teenage boy when it had died. Now peppered with Imran’s arrows, the boy must have died horribly. The flesh on his chest and stomach, together with many of his organs, had been ripped from him by Dead hands before he had died. With a powerful swipe she cut one off his legs from under him. As the Dead boy struggled to right himself in the slippery mud, she stepped forward and with an over arm swing her blade stuck into the boys forehead. Stepping on the now truly dead boy’s neck, so she could pull her blade free, Liz turned just in time to see an unnoticed Dead man fall to the floor at her feet, an arrow protruding from the side of its head. Glancing up at Imran she mouthed ‘thanks’. Charlie finished off the last of the Dead group, rupturing the skull of woman who looked like she had been burnt in a severe fire at some point, her black and blistered skin sloughing off her face and neck as Charlie pushed against her with his foot to pull the pick free.  

After checking there were no more Dead in the immediate area
, Imran jumped down from the cart to retrieve his arrows, while Charlie wiped his ice picks clean.

‘
Right let’s get out of this rain as soon as we can, shall we,’ Charlie said, turning to Liz who was pulling free her sword from the decapitated head she had just stabbed into.

‘
No arguments here,’ she had to shout over a loud rumble of thunder. Lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the torrential rain. ‘How do we get them to see us?’

‘
Easy,’ Charlie said, as he went over to a crank handle by the side of the gate.

Turning it moved a series of oiled bicycle chains that had been connected together.  Running along the inside of the compound they ended at a flag pole. Liz watched as a small wet white flag began to rise, flapping as it was caught by the wind. O
nce the flag had reached the top of the pole, snapping back and forth as it was caught by conflicting wind currents, Charlie waved them back to the cart.

‘
Right now we wait, you two might as well get in the cart, no point all of us all getting soaked,’ he said.

‘
Bit late for that,’ Liz said, pushing back her dripping wet hair.

Grateful to be out of the pouring rain, she didn
’t wait to be told twice. With a quick flick of her blade to remove the water, she climbed back into the cart with Imran while Charlie waited in the downpour for someone to open the gate for them.

‘
Thanks for that out there,’ Liz said to Imran, tossing him a small towel, as water dripped from his warm olive skin and dark hair.

‘
Couldn’t let another man get his hands on my girl, now could I?’ he smiled, patting his face dry.

Giving his cream Kufie skull cap a wring out, the
smile dropped from his lips and his eyes suddenly became serious as memories of his parents and sister came to him.

‘
Don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Lizzy,’ he said in almost a whisper.

Taking the small towel from his hands
, she patted the side of his face dry while she looked into his dark eyes, his face leaning into her hand lovingly. This simple action of tenderness  that expressed the love she had for him, made her want to shut the cart’s doors, forever blocking out this world full of death and horror. Just then, with a jolt, Delilah began moving forward. Broken from their moment, Liz and Imran looked forward through the front slit at Charlie leading them through the now open gate.

As the rain con
tinued its downpour, Liz looking through one of the side view holes watched as a large man dressed in a fisherman’s yellow sou’wester pushed the gate closed behind them. Delilah slowly pulled the cart along the small gravel pathway between the plots of densely planted vegetables, as Charlie led them over to one of the small concrete buildings. When the cart came to a stop, Liz and Imran climbed back out into the rain. Jumping down onto the gravel path, Imran ran over to Charlie to help him unhitch Delilah.

‘
Evening Liz, how are you?’ the man in the sou’wester said, as he walked up behind her, carrying a heavy length of pipe.

‘
Been better, thanks, and certainly been dryer Mr…?’ she replied, with a smile as she tried to recognise the man whose face was hidden in the shadow of the hood of his battered fisherman’s mac. It wasn’t until the man pushed the hood back slightly that she realised it was Patrick Sutton.

Patrick
, at over six foot tall, well proportioned muscular frame and Greco-roman looks wouldn’t have been out of place on the old movie screens but he actually been a simple PE teacher at a boys school. His good looks only marred now by the angry looking scar that ran down his right cheek into the dark stubble on his jaw line. Liz liked Patrick, he was instantly friendly to everyone and despite the scar, had a smile that could calm any situation.

‘
Oh, it’s you Pat,’ Liz said, reaching forward to give him a hug.

‘
And how is everybody at the Convent? No trouble I hope’ he replied, concern flashing across his face.

‘
No, not with us…. but trouble nonetheless,’ she said, her smile fading as she remembered the slaughter at the Penhaligan’s home, ‘I’d better let Charlie fill you in, though.’

‘
Right, OK. Well do you and Imran? or is it Mohammed?’ Pat said, trying to guess which of the twins he had welcomed into their home. ‘Anyway, you can take the horse into the stable building while the Sergeant gives me the heads up. Don’t forget to rub down the horse thoroughly, you don’t want her catching a chill from all this rain.’

‘
It’s Imran, and thanks,’ Liz said, touching his arm as she walked over to swap places with Charlie.

If she wasn
’t so in love with Imran she could see herself easily having a bit of a crush on Mr Sutton. Charlie and Imran had finished unhitching Delilah, so Liz took her reins and led her to the small building that housed the Substation’s own two horses and at the moment some chickens that had taken refuge from the storm. Surprisingly, when Liz and Imran passed through the widened doorway, they noticed the substation community now also had some pigs.

‘
Well I wonder where they found them?’ Imran said, patting a fat sow on her rump to move her out of the way. ‘I’m not supposed to eat pork but hey, can’t be too picky these days. I wonder if we can barter something for a breeding pair for the Convent?’

Delilah snorted showing her annoyance, as three of the small piglets ran squealing between her legs. Once the horse was completely ins
ide, Liz pulled a rough looking blanket off a hook by the door and began wiping the water from Delilah’s dripping wet body. In their stall the Substation’s own two mares snorted and stamped their hooves at the new horse that had appeared in their home. Whether it was a welcome or a warning to Delilah, Liz had no idea. Once Delilah was completely dry Imran put her feeding bag, he had brought from their cart, over her nose. Leaving her happily tucking into her mix of grain and hay, Liz and Imran braved the rain again as they ran over to the larger of the three concrete buildings. Flicking off as much of the rain water as they could before entering, the two on them pushed open the door. Coming in, twenty worried faces turned in their direction.

‘
So that’s at least two attacks in the area that we know of,’ Charlie was saying as he sat at a small table sipping a cup of warming nettle tea.

Opposite him sat Patrick, on his shoulder rested the concerned hand of Helen, his girlfriend. Helen was a match for Patrick in
looks. With her flawless ebony skin, long athletic limbs and beautiful green eyes, Helen looked every inch the warrior queen. Liz could see the anger and worry battling within Helen as Charlie told them of the murders. When Charlie told them about little Naomi, Liz noticed Helen subconsciously place her hand over her belly. It was only then that Liz realised Helen was about three months pregnant, her small bump noticeable once you knew to look for it. Liz thought that the combination of Helen and Patrick’s genes would produce truly beautiful children.

‘
We haven’t had any contact with the Penhaligans, can you show me on the map where they are…sorry, were’ Patrick said, once Charlie had finished telling them all they knew.

‘
It’s sad but they’ve no use for their supplies now, so you might as well have them, rather than leaving the stuff to rot’ Charlie said, as Patrick un-folded a map in front of them.

Patrick and some of the other men huddled round the
small table while Charlie showed them the route they would need to take to get to the Penhaligan home. Around them, worried conversations were whispered among the other community members.

‘
I think some congratulations may be in order,’ Liz said, walking over to Helen.

‘
Sorry, what?’ she replied, only realising Liz was talking to her, after an awkward pause.

‘
You are pregnant aren’t you, Helen?’ Liz repeated.

‘
Oh, yes. Sorry Liz, I was miles away,’ she smiled ‘All this bad news, not a nice thing to hear. You’d think we’d get used to death by now after all these years.’