Six Days With the Dead (35 page)

By the time Sister Margaret
’s reanimated corpse, managed to open its remaining film covered eye, the thing that had once been Mohammed had disappeared down one of the many dark corridors of Lanherne in search of warm flesh. Letting out a pitiful moan filled with such desperation and need, Sister Margaret’s corpse pushed itself up from the blood covered floor and unsteadily got to its feet. It knew it needed something, something to stop the pain, surely if only it could eat, the pain would go. Yes, it would eat and eat and never feel pain again. Of course the Dead brain in Sister Margaret’s head could not think of these thoughts in any rational way or intellectualise the cause and effect of eating the living. No, this was knowledge on a far more basic, fundamental level. Just as a wildebeest or sea turtle is hardwired to migrate across thousands of miles, or a spider spins its web over and over. To ignore the need to rip, tear and feed on the flesh of the living was impossible for the Dead Sister Margaret. You might as well ask the living to stop breathing. Devouring the flesh of a living being was what she was meant to do, on some level she knew this. So with nothing more than this basic compulsion demanding to be sated, the body that had once housed Sister Margaret, went in search of something warm to eat.

As tears st
reamed down Anne’s face, Ruth held her firmly behind the door that led out into the courtyard. Ruth had dragged Anne, with her hands tied and mouth gagged, to the door and truly this was God’s work, for he had made sure she had encountered nobody else on her short journey through the corridors. Holding the small girl behind the door she waved to her husband, letting him know all had gone to plan. At the signal, Reverend Moore ran over to the ladder leading up to the walkway.

‘
Hey! Hey, young woman!’ he called to the woman turning in his direction when he stepped on the walkway. ‘The Damned are in the Convent! Didn’t you hear the screaming? You must save them.’

‘
What? Oh, shit!’ Alice said, a million scenarios rushing through her mind, all of them bad ‘Imran!’

As she screamed his name, Imran came running along the walkway, his bow already off his back ready for attack. At the sight of Imran running towards him, the Reverend stepped back, a shocked look on his face.

‘Surely Ruth had sent this one to Hell?’ he thought to himself, ‘No matter, they will all be there soon enough.’

‘
Imran, the Dead are in the Convent! They’re inside!’ Alice said, her eyes wide with fear and panic.

Climbing down the ladder as fast as she could,
Alice knew within minutes her metal bat would be swinging at the skulls of friends no longer alive. Imran, knowing time was of the essence, did not wait to be told twice. He leapt to the ground when he was only half way down the ladder and ran after Alice, as she disappeared inside the building. Hidden behind the open door, Anne watched Imran and Alice run past her, unaware she was there. She tried desperately to make a sound so they would turn but to no avail. Struggling against her kidnapper was useless, with the razor pressed to her throat there wasn’t much she could do. ‘Stay alive’, that’s what Liz had always told her. No matter what happened or what she had to do or go through, as long as she stayed alive, she knew Liz would come for her. Once Ruth was sure the coast was clear, she pulled Anne roughly from their hiding place, out into the courtyard. Already Nathan had got the first gate open and was starting to winch open the second outer gate so they could make their escape. Ruth thought it would be good to be on their way home again, they had spent too long among the Damned and it sickened her. Throwing open the back hatch to their cart, Ruth thrust Anne inside.

‘
Just sit still and nothing will happen to you, OK’ Ruth said, climbing in and pulling closed the hatch behind her. Seeing the fear in Anne’s eyes, Ruth leant forward to gently, almost reverently touch her cheek.

‘
Don’t worry, you are one of the chosen,’ Ruth said, nodding as a strange madness danced behind her pale blue eyes, ‘The Lord has sent you among us to begin again. Don’t you see? You are untainted by the age of Man. You were born into a world where the Damned have been judged by our Lord and found wanting. There is no stain of the past world upon your soul.’ With a far away smile on Ruth’s face she moved to the front of the cart and gathered up the reins.

‘
You are pure,’ she said, quietly over her shoulder, ‘and with the others, the Lord shall repopulate his kingdom.’

W
ith a yell and a sharp flick of the reins, the cart began to move out through the open gates. Once the cart had been pulled all the way through, one of the side hatches opened and the Reverend Moore climbed in, panting.

‘
I thought you were going to kill the heathen?’ he said, glancing briefly at Anne, tied up and gagged in the back of the cart.

‘
I did?’ Ruth said a puzzled look on her face.

‘
Oh… ’ the Reverend said, absentmindedly toying with his crucifix. ‘I guess he had a brother then. Never mind. God’s demand will be done by one hand or another.’

A sob racked through Ann
e’s terrified body, as she realised the Reverend’s wife had murdered either Imran or Mohammed and now, one by one her friends would fall to the Dead stalking Lanherne.

Alice and Imran skidded to a halt at a junction in the main corridor. Pausing so she co
uld listen for any sounds, Alice nodded for Imran to take one direction, while she would take the other. With an arrow pulled taught in his bow, Imran walked slowly with his back pressed to the wall, towards the Chapel. Wishing him luck, luck that she too would need if they were to survive this day, Alice made her way towards the kitchen. She soon reached the next corner and paused. Listening intently she could clearly hear a set of footsteps coming briskly towards her. Pushing herself flat against the wall, she held her bat high and readied herself for what may be coming. The figure came into view and Alice breathed a sigh of relief.

‘
Adrian,’ she whispered.

‘
Shit!’ he said, jumping at Alice’s unexpected presence. ‘Damn Alice, you scared the crap out of me! Did you hear the screams?’

‘
No, but the Reverend did. Where did they come from?’ she asked in a hushed whisper, continually looking up and down the corridor, she didn’t want a nasty surprise running up behind her.

‘
Upstairs I think,’ he said, nervously chewing on his thumb.

‘
Right then that’s where we’re headed,’ she said, handing him the long knife that had been strapped to her calf ‘… come on.’

Alice
began to walk off, leaving a stunned Adrian looking at the knife now placed in his hand.

‘
Shit!’ Adrian said to himself.

Adrian wasn
’t a fighter, he was good at hiding until things blew over, that’s what he did. Stalking about in dark corridors actually looking for the Dead was crazy. Alice had just reached the stairs leading up to the sleeping cells. With one foot hovering on the first step, she turned to Adrian.

‘
Well?’ she whispered. ‘Are you coming, or are you going to be a prick you’re whole life? Think of someone else for a change.’

She had barely finished the last word when a body came running at full speed down the stone staircase, knocking her to the floor and winding her. In the collision her bat was knocked from her grasp and rolled across the c
orridor floor, out of reach. Instantly bloody hands were on her and she knew whoever it was, was now one of the Dead. As she fought for her life, she struggled to keep her hands under the Dead creature’s chin. Looking up at the savage Dead thing, desperate to rip into her flesh, she realised to her dismay that it was Mohammed. Her fingers slipped on his blood soaked neck and as her hands failed to find a good grip they slid lower until her fingers slipped sickeningly into a large slash wound across his neck. With Mohammed’s oesophagus now literally gripped between her fists, Alice managed to keep just out of reach of his snapping gore covered jaws.

‘
Help me, you fucking arsehole!’ Alice screamed. Pushing with all her might, she was only just keeping Mohammed’s hungry mouth from her skin. ‘Help me!’

Risking a glance in Adrian
’s direction, she saw him shaking his head in disbelief and slowly backing away.

‘
Arraghh!’ she screamed in frustration and anger.

If she got out of this alive, Adrian would pay for leav
ing her like this. Mustering up the last of her strength she yanked Mohammed’s neck to one side, throwing him off balance for a split second. Using this small bit of momentum, she managed to lift one of her knees sharply up to her chest. Thankfully with her knee now wedged between them she could force just that bit more space between herself and the frenzied cadaver.

Cursing herself for giving Adrian her calf knife, she knew she must get out from under Mohammed if she wanted to have any chance of survival.
With the strength in her arms waning, she knew if she didn’t make some sort of move now, Mohammed’s corpse would be in biting range in a few seconds. With a strength mustered from a pure determination to survive, Alice yanked Mohammed to the side again. Thankfully this time, his body, slick with his own blood slipped off, giving her the split second she needed to wriggle out from beneath him. The Dead Mohammed, unable to abandon his quarry, reached to grab the back of her jacket but missed and Alice pulled herself across the blood smeared stone floor. Seeing he was about to lunge for her again, Alice turned on her hip and kicked Mohammed hard in the face. With a sickening crack, cartilage broke and skin split, as his nose was crushed by her forceful kick. Scrabbling away on her hands and knees, faster than she thought possible, Alice managed to make it to the foot of the staircase before Mohammed got to his feet. Once she had reached the stone staircase she pulled herself upright and turned to face her attacker. Now that she was on her feet she knew she stood a better chance and with a well placed kick to Mohammed’s chest, he was thrown to the opposite wall. Alice didn’t wait for Mohammed’s corpse to get up again, instead she flew up the staircase in escape. Unarmed as she was, there was only so much she could do against an attacker that felt no pain and would never give up his pursuit. With her heart hammering in her ears she threw herself through the door of the first of the sleeping cells. Slamming the door closed behind her, her hands shook uncontrollably as she pulled the sturdy bolt across. Mohammed had only just reached the top of the stairs and she prayed he hadn’t seen which cell she had disappeared into. Without the mental capacity that allowed him to think to search each cell, the Dead Mohammed would walk the full length of the floor and descend the staircase at the opposite end. Alice slumped to the floor with her back to the door, listening for his approaching footsteps. Sure enough, Mohammed’s animated corpse simply followed the route it had seen her take and passed by her hiding place, clueless of her presence. If he had seen her enter the room, nothing except another victim, would deter the Dead man from getting into the room to feast on her flesh.

As Adrian had backed away terrified, he watched Alice struggling with the obviously now Dead Mohammed, he couldn
’t help but feel a bit cheated that the Dead had found their way into Lanherne. Everyone always went on about how safe the convent was, and how well they had it here but, as usual, it was all going to go to shit, just like everywhere else. He should have stayed on his own, hiding away from both the Dead and the living alike, he knew that now. No one could mess things up if it was just him, ‘you can’t rely on anyone but yourself in this world,’ his dad had told him when he was barely twelve years old and Adrian had lived by his dad’s advice ever since. A tiny part of him was glad it was Alice being eaten alive. That bitch had shown him up in front of everybody and quite frankly she deserved what she was now getting. Finally, Adrian dragged his eyes away from the fighting couple on the floor and began to walk in the other direction, leaving Alice to her fate. As he walked, a dozen things ran through his mind at once. He had to think clearly he said to himself, he had to find a safe hiding place where they wouldn’t find him. He wasn’t a fighter, no way could he deal with the newly turned Dead, they were far too fast and agile for him. No, he would find somewhere to hide and wait the three or four hours for them to wind down and then he might just have a chance of escape. Adrian, desperate to find somewhere to hide and on the verge of panic, was now almost running through the many dark corridors of Lanherne. When he placed a foot, unknowingly into a large slippery puddle of blood, blood that up until a few minutes ago had been housed in the body of Sister Margaret, he lost his footing and fell to the floor, hard. With a crack, the side of his head connected with the stone and as the world began to fade away, Adrian’s last thought was, ‘Oh, Fuck!’

Adrian snapped back to consciousness screaming. One of the nuns was leaning over him, bloody and unrecognisable. With a tug, she pulled her decimated face upwar
ds and away from his stomach, something wet and bloody in her mouth. Horrified, Adrian looked down at his body, instinctively knowing what he was about to see but refusing to believe it. The Dead woman had torn into his body, as he lay prone and unaware. The agony of his flesh being ripped from his body had pulled him back to a reality he would rather not encounter. As unbelievable pain racked though him, he watched, unable to comprehend, that the flesh and pulsing organs the nun greedily stuffed into her mouth, had come from inside his own body. The Dead woman reached into him again and forcibly ripped something vital from him. Through all this, Adrian could hear an unnatural sound of pure terror echoing loudly through the corridor, only when his breath caught in his throat did he realise the sound was his own. Finally with a violent spasm, Adrian’s body could take no more of this abuse, and with a spray of blood coughing from his torn lungs, he thankfully died. For a few minutes the Dead woman continued to gorge herself on the warm bloody flesh before her. Grabbing handfuls of slippery organs, one after the other, she stuffed them into her mouth in a desperate attempt to satisfy the hunger that burned through her. When her meal suddenly sat up, she no longer recognised it as something desirable. So with bits of flesh hanging from her mouth and fingers, Sister Margaret slowly pulled herself upright and wandered off in search of something else to quench her need.