Six Days With the Dead (22 page)

Laying Liz gently in the back of the cart, Charlie left Imran dabbing a wet cloth on her face. Wiping away both her
own blood and that of the brother splattered across her face, Imran willed Liz to open her eyes. With a flick of the reins, Charlie urged Delilah into a canter. They needed to put some distance between the Donaldson’s lake and themselves, so they would have to forego their usual slow quiet pace.

After a mile or so at this unusual speed, Charlie pulled Delilah back into her usual pace. Turning back to see how Liz was doing,
he was happy to see her eyes were open. Still looking a little dazed, Liz was patting a damp cloth to the side of her head, while at the same time trying to stop Imran fussing over her.

‘
Don’t worry,’ Charlie said, ‘scalp wounds always bleed a lot, even if they’re only minor.’

‘
Didn’t feel very minor when the bat connected with my head,’ Liz replied, grumpily, ‘and where’s my sword? Don’t say you left it behind.’

‘
Please, do I look like I have a death wish?’ Charlie said, with a smile ‘it’s hanging up behind you’

With a grunt Liz reached up to take down her sword swinging on a hook. Like a child
’s security blanket, the sword brought her instant peace and comfort the moment her fingers touched its hard casing. Rubbing the strap between her finger and thumb, Liz thought if she ever lost the sword, it would feel like losing an old friend. She knew every scratch, nick and thread of its corded handle. She knew exactly how the blade was balanced and how it would move with the slightest flick of her wrist. She had trusted her life, and the lives of so many of those she loved to this blade. It was more than a weapon, it was part of her, part of who she was.

‘
Do you feel like you’re going to be sick or feel very sleepy?’ Charlie asked, giving Liz a quick concerned glance over his shoulder. ‘Because if you do, we might have to worry about a concussion.’

‘
No, I don’t think so, just a splitting headache really and a lump the size of an egg on the side of my head,’ Liz replied, ‘Oh, and thanks you two, but next time try not to leave it to the last minute.’

‘
Hmm… Grateful much?’ Imran said in mock annoyance, ‘I say we don’t bother next time Charlie, she’s too much trouble this one.

Liz reached over to grab Imran
’s jacket. Pulling him down so his face was level with hers, she kissed him gently on the mouth.

‘
Thank you,’ she said softly.

‘
That’s better,’ Imran said, smiling ‘here, I’ll open the top hatch, the air will do you good.’

‘
Oh stop fussing Imran,’ Charlie said, chuckling, ‘Liz knows that if she needs air to ask for it.

Charli
e loved both of his two charges sat in the back of the cart, like they were his own children. So when he had seen Liz on the ground bleeding, a mix of fear and anger had boiled inside of him. Charlie knew that it had been Imran’s place to take retribution but he would have happily smashed the man’s skull to pieces himself, even if he hadn’t already been bitten.

‘
Anyway what happened at the lake? Did you tell the Donaldsons about the raiders?’ Liz asked.

Even if the men of the Donaldson clan deserved to get
their throats cuts, the children didn’t and she wanted them to be safe.

‘
They told us to fuck off, basically,’ Imran replied, looking not at all impressed that they had gone to the trouble to show concern for the group and then been treated in such a crappy manner ‘Look, you don’t suppose it’s actually them that are going round killing the Outposters, do you?’

‘
Doubt it,’ Charlie said. ‘I don’t think they ever leave the forest and as far as I know they didn’t know about the Penhaligans.

‘
And if my new best friend back there was anything to go by, they wouldn’t have just killed Mrs Penhaligan or her daughter like that. They would have had their fun with them first’ Liz added, remembering the body of Louise Penhaligan lying face down in the grass with her head smashed, while her Dead daughter roamed the attic with her throat slashed ‘and there weren’t any signs of rape on either of them, so I think we can rule the Donaldsons out for that one.’

‘
Pity,’ Imran said, reaching for a rag to clean some of Mr Donaldson’s skin and blood from the pipe that had killed him.

‘
That would be too easy,’ Charlie called over his shoulder, ‘but life doesn’t tend to tie problems up in such a neat little bow. The Donaldsons are incestuous, unfriendly and attacked Liz, so it would be great if we could just blame them for the attacks too. We could then go in and wipe all the adults out with a clear conscience, with right on our side. But they didn’t, so we can’t.’

‘
As I said before… Pity.’ Imran grumbled under his breath.

Two hours later they had left the dense woodland with the lake far behind them, the countryside around them returning to the overgrown fields and high hedgerows they felt comfortable with. Liz was feeling a lot better, t
hough each time the cart went over a pothole, pain shot through her head reminding her of her injury. It was now late afternoon and they had stopped briefly for a toilet break.

‘
At this rate we should reach the O’Briens just before dark. We’ve made good time.’ Charlie said, as they set off again.

The two piglets they had been given were starting to come round from their alcohol induced doze. The little sow had started to lazily snuffle through the straw bedding in the bottom of the crate, while her mate lay
on its side looking up at Liz. Putting her hand through the slats, Liz gave the small boar a gentle scratch on his belly. The pig wriggled and kicked its legs in enjoyment.

‘
Give the pigs some water Imran, they must be thirsty,’ Liz said, amused by the male pigs friendly demeanour.

Pouring some water into
a bowl, Imran opened the crate lid to give them their water.

‘
So are you going to name them?’ Imran asked.

‘
Well as those two will be our breading pair until we can do a swop with Patrick, we might as well be on friendly terms,’ Charlie said, as he steered Delilah around the rusting frame of a motorbike that had crashed into a tree many years ago.

At that point the small boar got a little over excited by the belly tickling and let out a noisy fart. Shocke
d by the sound it had produced, the boar jumped to his feet looking around wondering where the noise had come from.

‘
Well, whichever one that was, we’ll call it Stinky,’ Charlie chuckled.

‘
And what do you want to be called, little lady?’ Liz said, waving her fingers at the sow, who seemed to be deliberately ignoring her, until she turned and gave one of Liz’s fingers a little nip.

‘
Ouch, you ratbag!’ Liz yelped, sucking her nipped finger. ‘Right for that, that’s just what we’re going to call you. Charlie, Imran, meet Ratbag and Stinky.’

‘
Hardly illustrious names for the new pig King and Queen of Lanherne,’ Imran said, laughing.

Imran
’s laughter stopped abruptly as Charlie pulled Delilah to a stop. The sudden jolt sent another spasm of pain through Liz’s head but at least this time she didn’t blackout.

‘
Damn, Charlie you could’ve warned me,’ Liz said, holding a hand to her head.

‘
Trouble,’ was all Charlie said, his tone expressing the seriousness of the situation.

Imran moved quick
ly to the front of the cart to see what Charlie meant. Liz, following a bit slower, grabbed hold of various weapons hanging on the walls and roof to keep her balance. Looking through the front view slit, Liz could see a scenario that could only be described as crappy. They had reached a curve in the road. To one side stood a small dilapidated cottage, its roof and one of the outside walls completely missing. Ivy covered nearly the whole cottage inside and out, making it look like a small green hillock. It even had a small tree growing in front room. In front of the overgrown cottage in a sloping driveway, were three carts similar to their own, one of which had been overturned and broken to pieces. In front of each lay the decaying carcass of a horse, their reins still tied to tethering posts. These animals had obviously starved to death, unable to move away once their human masters had come back as the Dead. But the real problem, milling around aimlessly, just waiting for live flesh to give purpose to their Dead existence, were thirty of the Dead in various states of decay. This in itself wouldn’t have been so bad, but to add insult to injury, the road just ahead of them crossed the tracks of a train line and the barrier gates were down. To cross they would somehow have to open the gates. There was no way to go around the gates, as they were flanked on both sides by the high hedgerows and Charlie knew this was the only route they could take to get to the O’Briens.

‘
The gates didn’t used to be down,’ Charlie whispered, ‘Someone’s done this on purpose.’

‘
So what are we going to do?’ Imran asked. 

‘
Why don’t we just go out there and clear the Dead, there’s only ten each,’ Liz said

‘
No, not in the state you’re in, you’d be a liability,’ Charlie said, putting a stop to that plan straight away.

Liz didn
’t argue though, she knew she was hardly up to her usual fighting standard. Having to hang onto a club on the wall just to stay upright, proved that.

‘
Well, we just have to draw them away, while someone opens the gate manually,’ Liz said.

‘
I think it’ll take both me and Imran at the same time to shift that gate’s counter weight,’ Charlie said, thinking out loud while rubbing the stubble on his chin with the back of his hand. ‘Right, this is what we’re going to do. We’ll make loads of noise here and just when they get to us, we let Delilah bomb her way to the gate, Imran you can take off any straggling Dead on the move can’t you? Anyway, we jump out, open the gates and Bobs your uncle, we’re off before the rest of them get to us.’

‘
I don’t know Charlie, it’s a bit risky,’ Liz said.

‘
I know, but what’s life without a risk or two,’ Charlie replied, grinning ‘…and anyway we’ve got no choice’

‘
How about I just pick off as many as I can before we make a dash to the gate, that’ll make it safer for us,’ Imran said.

‘
Ok… that’s the plan then,’ Charlie said, nodding.

Taking Delilah
’s reins, Liz slowly exchanged places with Charlie, while Imran grabbed the full quiver of arrows hanging on the wall.

‘
Ready?’ Imran asked, his hand hovering over the handle of the top hatch.

With a nod from the other two, he flipped the hatch open, an arrow already poised against the string of his bow. With the usual twang the first arrow flew, striking a decrepit woman in the back of
her head. As her rotting corpse crumpled to the ground, some of the other dead slowly turned in the direction of the cart. A dead woman dressed in a gore covered dressing gown was the first to step towards them. The skin and most of the flesh on her cheeks had been torn away, revealing her black teeth and a slug like tongue. Stretching her mouth impossibly wide, she began a low moan. As if it was a call to arms, the rest of the Dead turned to face them. Once they saw Imran, his torso standing proud of the hatch, each of them let loose their own cry and began, with shuffling steps, the short journey to the flesh, they so desired. In quick succession two more arrows flew, two more of the Dead fell lifeless. Then as two of the Dead bumped into each other, Imran missed a target, his arrow landing harmlessly in the sunken chest of a woman dressed only in her underwear. The woman, oblivious to the arrow sticking out from her chest, stepped on the trailing entrails of a Dead man in front of her, causing him to fall forward. She then in turn fell on top of his struggling body as they both tried to right themselves. More arrows flew and one by one each found their targets. As more of the Dead fell to the ground lifeless, some of those still walking tripped over them. Until they righted themselves, Imran couldn’t really get a good angle to fire on them, so he chose other targets.   

Only fifteen metres away from them now, Imran had only put down a third but he could not think about the numbers. With smooth, practiced mo
tions he pulled an arrow from the quiver, placed it against the bow string, pulled back, aimed and released. The arrow flew, puncturing the eye socket of a Dead man with most of the flesh missing from his chest.

‘
Shit,’ Imran whispered under his breath.

T
he arrow had not gone deep enough and the mutilated man still carried on his shuffling march towards them. Again an arrow flew, this time meeting its target. Before the man’s body even hit the ground another was joining him, an arrow sticking out of the side of this one head. The woman with the torn face had finally got to her feet again, just in time for an arrow to slam into her forehead. Instantly she fell lifelessly back down, trapping the man with the dragging intestine beneath her. Even as he struggled to push her off his back, he still reached desperately to the cart that held the promise of flesh, blood and bone.