Killing the Dead (Season 2 | Book 2): Dark and Deadly Land (17 page)

“Even with all that,” she continued. “Things might have settled down. Order was being restored and then it happened.”

“What?” I asked.

“Bloody cruise ship, that’s what.”

“A cruise ship?”

“Yeah, three thousand infected people ran aground on the southern end of the island.”

Her voice was flat even above the noise of the engine and I could almost feel the pain she was holding back.

“We got to listen as town after town on the Isle fell. So many refugees crammed together didn’t help matters and… it just spread so bloody quickly.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said quietly though the words had little real meaning anymore. We’d all lost so much to the plague of the undead that covered the land.

We sat in silence for the rest of the trip, the only sound the drone of the engine and the occasional call of the gulls as they wheeled overhead.

I watched the coast pass by and imagined what it would have been like without the zombies dotted along the shore. I pulled my jacket close and tightened the hood around my face as the salt spray and the rain fought to be the first to drench me.

Our part in the plan was simple but also incredibly dangerous, perhaps even more so than Ryan and the other guys. They would go and clear out the people there, a tough and risky task no doubt but less so than driving a van with a bomb in the back, to the factory where they would be.

In short time, the boat glided to a stop against a pebble covered beach and I leapt out, my feet sinking into the freezing cold water of the Irish Sea. I had a sudden regret for wearing jeans which would never dry in the miserable weather we were having, and would leave me damp and uncomfortable all day.

“Up the beach,” Bess called out. “Top of the hill’s a blue van. Ethan gave you the keys?”

“Aye,” Cass replied as she touched the pocket on her coat that held them.

“It’s all wired up, the detonator is on top. Flick the switch and the timer will start so run like fuck.”

“Great,” I muttered as I waded through the waves. Each step was a struggle to stay upright as the heavy waves pushed at the backs of my legs.

Once we were all shivering, wet and miserable ashore. Bess set off to return to Haven. She didn’t look back at us and her meaning was clear. We were on our own and the only way back was to complete the mission we’d been given.

I hefted the club in my hand, noting the notches and stains in the wood. I forced a few deep breaths as the reality of what I may have to do came to me.

“No point standing here ladies,” Becky said with forced cheer. “May as well get moving.”

We crossed the beach, our feet crunching against the pebbles and I raised a faint smile as the memory came to me of the last such beach I had walked across, holding hands with my dad as he led me to rock pools to see what wonderful creatures we could find.

It had been a different time and the sun had beat down upon us. He’d been a great dad and a good man who so willingly gave up his time to help others. He’d passed away just a few years ago and I was glad he’d been spared the horrors of the end of the world.

He hadn’t been a weak man, but he’d had no interest in hurting others. I owed much of who I was, the person I was, to him. He would have hated everything Ryan was and would have seen him to be the absolute polar opposite of himself. But he’d have respected my decision much as he’d always done. God, I missed him.

“You okay?” Cass asked as I wiped at my face. Not all of the moisture there was from the rain.

“Yah, I’m good.”

“This is crazy. Driving around with a bomb in the van.”

“Needs to be done,” I said. “So few options for us and we’re almost at Scotland. Our goals’ in sight and to be honest, it’s probably a damn sight safer than trying to get through Carlisle.”

“Maybe,” she said as we began the climb up the steep trail away from the beach.

The ground was slick mud from the rain and I spent far too much time gripping tufts of grass as I practically hauled myself along. Every other step I would slip back down, hands reaching for something to hold on to and then I’d push on. Ever upwards.

After a great deal more time than I’d have preferred, we reached the top of the rise. Despite the view of the ocean, there was little else there besides fields, trees in the distance and a car park empty but for a blue transit van with the name of a plumbers merchants on the side.

Strong winds tugged at our clothes as we crossed the open space to the van. I did a quick circuit to make sure it was safe and gestured for Cass to climb into the driver’s seat. As much as I’d prefer to drive, at some point, we would need to get out and clear the way. I’d much rather Cass and her unborn child stayed safely in the van while Becky and I did the unpleasant work.

Inside the cab of the van, we could all sit quite comfortably on upholstered seats and I had a brief feeling of safety at being inside a vehicle again. Out of the wind and rain, away from the grasping hands of the undead and just being dry. It was a pleasant feeling.

The engine roared to life as Cass turned the key and I smiled. One less problem to worry about, I’d had images of the van being gone, or so run down it wouldn’t start. Now, all we had left to do was make it to a factory that supposedly housed cannibals.
Great.

We’d gone just shy of a mile when we came to an abandoned car that had been pushed to one side of the road. Cass slowed the van as we drove past, careful on the narrow road not to get stuck between the car and the wall.

It looked undisturbed with stubborn dirt on the bonnet and roof that refused to be moved by the rain. Likely been there for some time and abandoned when it had run out of fuel. A few belongings still remained and I guessed them to have been left behind in favour for more useful items. I wondered what had happened to them.

Further along the road, bags and personal items had been dumped amongst the weeds that grew beside the moss-covered stone wall. Experience told me that someone had carried them this way and dropped them when they had to run… or fight. I hoped they’d won but then if they had, they’d have taken their belongings with them.

No matter where we went, it seemed we would be confronted with the reminder that death stalked the land. That the ravenous dead walked and hunted the living. Further proof that the world was damned and my hopes of making it better faded just that little bit further.

We had been protected in the Lake District. The narrow roads, tall hills, and mountains had shielded us from much of the chaos over the winter. It’d been a smart idea to go there and yet still I felt guilty for surviving as we had. For not suffering as much as so many others.

“Village coming up,” Cass said with a nod to a sign attached to a metal pole beside the road.

“Should be fine,” I said as I did my best to shake myself from the funk I seemed to be in. “Bess said they brought the van through it and it was clear. Best be careful though.”

She grunted and stared straight ahead through the windscreen, eyes fixed on the road. She wasn’t convinced which was for the best. The last thing any of us needed was to become complacent.

Chapter 19 - Ryan

My blade sank into the belly of the Feral as I collided with it on the bank of the stream. It seemed to be having the same problem I was in staying upright on the muddy banking. I shoved it away and jumped back, the handle of my knife sticking out from its stomach.

It circled me, crouched low as I moved to keep it in sight. The distant cries of my friends as they fought the Shamblers came to me, followed by a splash as someone or something dropped into the stream further down.

I kicked out as it dashed in, my boot connecting with its hip sending it spinning away to the side. It landed in the mud and muck for just a moment before surging to its feet and leaping at me once again.

An elbow to its face was blocked by its arms and I swore at how difficult it was being. It growled low in its throat and ducked beneath my next swing before darting to one side. Neither of us eager to get in close to the other without more of an advantage.

Wispy strands of pale hair stuck up from its head and an expression of hate seemed permanently etched onto its sallow face. Broken nails caked with god knows what kind of muck came perilously close to my face as it swung its arms and tried to rake my flesh.

Someone cried out in pain and I looked around for something to use as a weapon. It darted in once more and I ducked down, tucked in my shoulder as best I could as I caught it below the ribs, then stood up straight, catapulting it over my back to land sprawled onto the ground.
      

I stooped to pick up a green moss covered stone about the size of my fist and leapt at the Feral. It rolled to one side and was on its feet as my improvised weapon pounded the dirt where its skull had been moments before.

A weary ache was dragging at my limbs as I pushed myself to my feet as it ran at me once again. I let it collide with me, arms wrapping around my back as I hit the stone against its head as hard as I could. Once, twice and it howled. A sound I’d not yet heard from one before.

My third strike had cold blood spraying across my face and on the fourth I heard the crack of its skull. By the fifth bloody strike, it released its hold on me and fell to the ground, dead for good. I dropped the stained rock and sank to my knees as I reached for my knife.

The damned things had been chasing us for the better part of an hour and had finally caught us as we forded the small stream in a stand of woods. I’d killed two Shamblers before the Feral leapt on my back.

I didn’t stop the grin that came though, as I considered the fight I’d just survived. It had been hard and incredibly exhilarating to have that challenge. I yanked the knife from its belly and silently admonished myself about my tendency to stab low when caught by surprise.

That kind of injury was meaningless to the undead and just ended up with my losing my weapon.

With a weary sigh, I pushed myself to my feet. The battle was raging further downstream where my friends had been forced by the number of zombies we faced.
I guess it’s time to go help them.

As I turned to go, I paused as I remembered what I’d taken from the ambulance and my gaze fell to the dead Feral. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little insurance. I took a minute to do what was needed and then headed off in search of my friends.

Pat had his back to a tree and was holding five zombies at bay with swings of his club and his own meaty fists. Another four lay dead on the ground and without hesitation, I thrust my blade into the back of the skull of the nearest. Half a minute later, before they’d even registered my presence another two were dead.

The fourth fell as it noticed me and turned in time for my knife to stab up below its jaw and the final zombie was killed by a blow from Pats club. His eyes met mine and he nodded his thanks as he doubled over, hands on his knees as he gasped for breath. He looked as exhausted as I felt.

“Gregg?” he asked and I shrugged. “Damn, he seemed to have most of them following him.”

I followed him as he pushed away from the tree and set off in the direction he’d seen Gregg go. It didn’t take us long to find him.

“What the hell…” Pat said as he slid to a stop.

“Little help guys?” Gregg called from where he perched halfway up an old sycamore tree. All around the base were the undead, arms stretched up to reach him.

With a shake of his head, Pat readied his club. “Bloody idiot.”

I laughed at his irritation and joined him in dispatching the seven zombies that crowded around the tree. It didn’t take long with the two of us and Gregg was soon able to climb down and join us.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” I told him as I stooped to clean my knife on the grass.

“There’s more coming,” he said as he cocked his head to the side. “You can hear them.”

“Most of them are lost somewhere on the other side of the stream,” I said. “The Feral’s dead at least.”

“You had the Feral to kill as well?” he said with a shake of his head. “Damn, I thought I had it rough.”

“I had nine,” Pat said. “Two more than you and I didn’t need to climb a tree.”

“Better to climb a tree and live like a coward, than die at its base.”

“True,” Pat agreed with a grin for his friend.

“Come on,” I said with a look back over my shoulder to where we’d come from. “We need to get moving or Lily will be at the factory before us.”

On weary limbs we pushed our way through the undergrowth and away from the zombies that were still in pursuit of us. The flight from them had taken us in a southerly route and we turned back to what we hoped was the right direction to find the factory.

By all accounts it shouldn’t be that hard, being as it was in an almost direct line to the east from the compound laughingly called Haven by its occupants. They’d been lucky, the western districts that made up the county of Cumbria, had barely half a million people living within its borders.

Those borders also contained pretty much every mountain in England that topped three thousand feet. The combination of hills, mountains, lakes, streams and access only from the east or south past the Lakes, made it one of the few places in the UK that hadn’t been hit that hard by the undead.

Haven and its few occupants had held their own against a few thousand Shamblers. They hadn’t met a horde that numbered in the tens of thousands. They hadn’t had the millions of zombies that spilled out from the cities.

Most of the undead would have followed the roads north. We’d seen evidence of that as they filtered into the Lake District where we’d had our island. Those would eventually start to spill out into these coastal districts while those hundreds of thousands travelling along the wide motorways would eventually fill Carlisle and spread outwards.

No, the people of Haven had done okay for themselves but the storm had barely begun and soon it would hit them with all its fury. I fully intended to be in Scotland by the time that happened.

I wiped a hand across my face to wipe away the cold rain water that ran down it. The trees had at least provided us with some respite from the rain but as we passed out from beneath those branches, we once again found ourselves getting soaked to the skin.