Six Days With the Dead (28 page)

‘
Hey! Anyone in there?’ Charlie called, fighting against the sound of the wind and rain to be heard.

When no
thing happened he looked at Liz and knowing that they may have to check that the cart wasn’t filled with the Dead, she withdrew her blade from its sheath. As raindrops splashed off the metal of her blade they made a small ‘ping’ sound. Standing there, with only the sound of the falling rain and odd rumble of thunder breaking the silence, the ‘pinging’ from her sword added an eerie, almost magical accompaniment to this wild symphony of nature. Then she heard the strange sound again coming from inside the cart. This close to the source she recognised it immediately.

‘
Charlie there’s a baby in there!’ Liz said, ‘can’t you hear it?’

Liz began to move forward eager to rescue this abandoned child.

‘Liz wait!’ Charlie said, reaching to pull her back.

But when she was within arm
’s reach of one the side hatches, it opened slowly to reveal the shadowy figure of a man. Liz held her sword high, ready for the Dead man to attack, but as the man moved she could see his dark eyes shining like wet coal. He was alive.

‘
There’s no need for that, Miss, we are not tainted by the Damned,’ he said, as he leaned forward so Liz could see him clearly.

The man was in his late forties, clean shaven and had short dark hair, greying at the temples. Like many people his face showed the signs of one too many missed meals, so his slightly gaunt look accentuated his high cheek bones and strong Roma
n nose. He wore a stained black shirt with his sleeves rolled up showing taut muscular arms. His white dog-collar was grimy and in its frayed state, it had obviously seen better days. Even though he had his hands clearly in view with his palms facing upwards calmly, there was something about this man she did not trust. Something about the way his smile did not extend to his dark glinting eyes that made her hands itch.

‘
I heard a baby,’ Liz said, trying to shield her eyes from the rain with her empty hand. ‘Is everything ok?’

‘
Thank you for your concern young Miss, I am the Reverend Nathan Moore and I’m travelling with my wife, Ruth. She gave birth just yesterday to a fine boy. He’s a little vocal I’m afraid,’ he replied, toying with a silver crucifix hanging about his neck.

All the while he spoke his eyes kept flicking over at Charlie standing behind Liz and she found it a little disconcerting.

‘Nice to meet you, Sir, I’m Elizabeth and this is Sergeant Charles Philips. And how is your wife now? Giving birth on the road couldn’t have been easy,’ she asked, trying to keep the Reverend’s attention on her.

‘
Yes, she is fine, the child was born with no difficulties. Ruth was a nurse before our Heavenly Father passed his judgement upon the sinful,’ he said raising his eyes momentarily to the stormy clouds above.

Liz assumed he meant when the Dead came back but didn
’t question him on his beliefs. In her experience, engaging these types of people in anything approaching a rational conversation was pointless, they were unable to conceive anything beyond the world they had constructed for themselves.

‘
It must have been very dangerous for her to go through labour out here among the Dead,’ Charlie said. ‘Your wife must be a very brave woman, Reverend.’

‘
The Lord looked down upon her and found her righteous in his eyes, the sinful did not see or hear her,’ the Reverend replied, smiling while he stared at Charlie, almost willing him to question his reasoning.

‘
And can we see your wife and baby?’ Liz asked, taking a step forward. ‘New life is such a precious thing in this world now.’

‘
No!’ he snapped, quickly moving his hands to the sides of the hatch blocking her view ‘she is resting, you understand’

The smil
e slowly returning to his lips while he tilted his head to one side. Liz’s eyes flicked to Charlie, something wasn’t right here and they both knew it.

‘
It’s alright Nathan, I will talk with the young lady,’ came a voice from within the cart.

‘
As you wish Ruth,’ turning his head slowly to look behind him, the Reverend nodded.

When a second face appeared at the hatch, Liz was taken aback by the contrast between the Reverend and his wife. As dark as his eyes were, hers were the colour of blue ice, sparkling and
slightly wild, yet they held a kindness in them. Where his hair was black, hers was a very pale blond that reminded Liz of rich thick cream. The hunger they had both suffered, had left nothing but sharp angles on the Reverend’s face but on Ruth it gave to her a delicate fragile quality.

‘
Hello,’ she said, smiling kindly extending a hand past her husband. ‘I’m Ruth, pleased to meet you.’ 

Shaking her delicate hand warmly, Liz noticed the rosary bead wound tightly about her thin wrist.

‘So where are you from and what are you doing out here, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Charlie asked, still wary of the strangers.

Ruth
’s eyes flicked to Charlie and she slowly withdrew her hand from Liz’s.

‘
We had to flee from our last home,’ the Reverend said, his neck stiffening. ‘We were attacked by a Raiding party. But, God was merciful, he gave us safe passage among the Damned. Now though, we’re a little at a loss as to where to go.’

There was a pause as Charlie looking from the Reverend to his wife, weighed things up in hi
s mind. Letting just any stranger know about the convent was a dangerous thing to do. Their resources were not limitless and not everyone would fit into their ‘family’.

‘
Well you’ve been very lucky. Those raiders have wiped out two other settlements that we know of, women and children killed,’ Charlie said, thinking of the ruined bodies of Louise Penhaligan and her daughter. ‘You’d best follow us. We live in a community in a Convent about two hours from here.’

He wasn
’t too happy about taking them back to the convent. Sometimes those with such strong religious convictions stirred up mixed feelings with people. The Sisters had accepted all into their home with a real Christian charity without feeling the need to preach or convert. But Charlie knew he couldn’t just abandon them out here with only the divine for protection, not with the baby on board, it just wasn’t in him.

‘
A Convent!’ the Reverend said, a strange twinkling in his dark eyes. ‘A sign Ruth! Our Lord is giving us sanctuary in His house.’

The Reverend
’s wife crossed herself and kissed the crucifix about her neck, mumbling a prayer of thanks to herself.

‘
Well, that’s settled then,’ Liz said, ‘if you follow us, we’ll be home soon.’

‘
May God shower his mercy upon you,’ the Reverend said, smiling bowing his head slightly.

‘
I think I’ve had enough showers at the moment,’ Liz said, meaning it as a joke about the rain but something undefinable flashed across the Reverends eyes, unnerving Liz a little.

I
t may have only been a trick of the light though because the look was gone and replaced with a smile almost immediately.

‘
So what do you think?’ Liz asked Charlie, while they made their way back to the cart in the rain.

‘
Don’t know if they’re going to fit in, Liz. Folks like that are too busy seeing the evil in everybody to see the good…. Didn’t have much time for their way of thinking before the Dead came and certainly don’t now.’

‘
Hmm…’ Liz said, thinking about the strange family they were letting into their home, though she knew ultimately they would be given the chance.

They had failed the O
’Briens and perhaps through this family with their newborn, they could somehow make amends.

When they got back to the cart Imran was shaking the worst of the rain off himself.

‘So?’ he asked, ringing out his Kufie skullcap.

‘
Preacher, his wife and a baby,’ Charlie said, gathering up Delilah’s reins ‘they’re coming with us.’

‘
Are they nice?’ Imran said to Liz, while Charlie set Delilah back on their journey home.

‘
Erm, hard to tell. She seems alright, but they’re very religious,’ she replied. ‘Perhaps they’ll relax a bit once they feel safer… who knows?’

Once they were on the road again Liz began to wipe dry her blade on a rag, removing all of the rain water. She could not afford rust
spots to weaken the metal, her life, and those she loved depended on its integrity. Once she was satisfied it was perfectly clean and dry, she slid the blade home into its sheath. Every so often the thunder clouds above them would still crash into each other, sending down more rain, while the following lightning would flash across the sky. To Liz it soon became a natural background noise and with the gentle rhythmic drumming of the rain on the roof above her, she soon found herself fighting against drooping eyelids. Each time she found her head nodding forward she would force open her eyes again trying to stay awake. The last few days of being constantly on edge and having too little uninterrupted sleep had taken their toll on her. She could feel Imran’s comforting presence next to her, his hand resting on her thigh.

‘
It’s OK,’ he whispered, softly stroking her leg, ‘you can take a nap, I’ll wake you if anything happens.’

Moving his arm to sit around her shoulder, Imran pulled he
r a little closer to his body. Still resistant to the sleep her body craved, Liz tried in vain to stay awake but almost instantly her head was comfortably resting against his shoulder, her eyes beginning to close again.

‘
Are they still with us?’ Charlie asked, snapping Liz awake.

‘
Oh, how long was I asleep?’ She asked, rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn.

‘
About an hour,’ Imran replied, gently kissing the top of her head. ‘We’re just about to pull into St Mawgan.’

‘
Great… ’ Liz said, stretching as much as she could in the cramped confines of the cart.

‘
Well, are they still with us?’ Charlie repeated. ‘They keep falling behind and I don’t want to lose them at this turning.’

Liz looked through one of the spy holes in the back wall of th
e cart. Outside, what little daylight was left, was still obscured by the thick storm cloud cover. The rain still fell in thick heavy drops and as Liz watched the other cart come into view, thunder rumbled overhead.

‘
Yes, they’re still there,’ Liz said, watching the poor exhausted horse pull the Reverend and his family behind them.

Then a strike of lightning briefly lit up the sky with a flash and in that instant Liz saw the silhouetted shape of one of the Dead struggling to right itself on the road behind
the Reverend’s cart. They must have run into it and knocked it to the ground as they passed by, it was obviously a Wanderer and must have stumbled onto the road through the roadside hedgerow.

‘
Good,’ Charlie said, ‘here we are, Jackson’s place coming up, nearly home.’

‘
Shouldn’t we let him know about the raiders?’ Liz asked.

Jackson may be a bit odd but she liked the old fool and wouldn
’t want anything to happen to him.

‘
I want to get back to the convent asap to make sure everything is ok first,’ Charlie replied, as Delilah slowly pulled them past the fortified school building Jackson had made his home ‘I’ll fill him in tomorrow and try to convince him to stay at the convent for a few days… just in case.

As they passed Jackson
’s home, Liz knew that in just forty-five minutes they would reach the large fallen tree that blocked the direct route to the village from Lanherne, then after fifteen minutes on the long tree lined lane and they would be home. She knew that as soon as they passed through the large double gates of the Convent, the adrenalin induced tension in her muscles would ease and for the first time in the last few days she could really relax.

By the time they reached the fallen tree the rain had reduced to a drizzle and the heavy clouds had starte
d to disperse, revealing a star speckled evening sky. It was as if as they came closer to their home, all the wild horrors of the outside world had been left behind them. The walls of the Lanherne Convent seemed somehow blessed, keeping those within protected from the death and devastation that stalked across Cornwall, England and the rest of the world. Liz had often wondered what was happening in other countries. With the UK being an island, she hoped one day someone would finally find a way of eradicating all of the walking Dead. On the Continent though, the sheer numbers of the Dead were impossible to contemplate and she doubted if the majority of the globe would ever be reclaimed from its Dead masters.

When the Dead came to change the world, countries
very soon became insular, so concerned with their own affairs, that they each forgot their Dead neighbours crossing the now pointless borders to feast on the living. Charlie had said that many had fled the large continents, seeking sanctuary on islands where the numbers of the Dead were more manageable. The Isle of White, Isle of Man and the Channel islands had become meccas to any who could get on a boat or plane. Inevitably though, these havens, swamped by refugees, soon succumbed to the Dead just like everywhere else. The remote islands off the Scottish coast had seemed like a better bet for many. But the remoteness and low population density that had originally been their attraction, in reality only meant limited resources and a slow drawn out starvation. There had been tales of remote islanders killing refugees, who fleeing the mainland, had washed up on their shores. It was even said that some island communities who had initially welcomed their visitors with open arms, ultimately turned on these weary outsiders with cannibalistic intent.