Killing The Dead (Book 15): The Gathering Storm Page 8

  I wasn’t party to all the ways they trained their people but when they were done they were fanatics, ready to live and die on the word of my beloved. Not a single one of them would so much as walk down a certain street if he told them not to. When amongst the living, they were like neutered puppies. They couldn’t hurt someone if they wanted to.

  “What’s going on?” Cass asked as she craned her neck to peer ahead.

  I followed her gaze and caught sight of a small crowd forming around a squad of CDF troopers. I increased my pace, curious despite myself. My guards unsheathed their weapons, ready to defend me should the need arise. None would speak out in objection though.

  “Careful, My Lady,” Lisa said.

  Ok, one would. I flashed a smile at her. She had fought alongside me the night we Minister Shahid had unleashed several hundred Ferals on the town. I liked her.

  “What’s going on?” I called out to the crowd.

  No one responded and I repeated the call, louder. Some of them heard then and turned my way, seemingly recognising me – or my guards at least – and all speaking at once.

  “Silence!” Cass shouted to be heard. “Speak one at a time. You, corporal.”

  The young woman blanched but rose to attention and snapped off a salute. She was obviously new, despite her rank, and was more than a little flustered. Her squad were gathered around a half-naked man who cowered on the floor before them.

  It was such a ludicrous sight that I almost laughed and had to school my face to stillness. Instead, I arched one eyebrow at the corporal and waited with as much patience as I could.

  “Ah, sorry, ma’am. This one.” She gestured at the cowering man. “He’s been accused of… of…”

  “Speak up,” Cass said. “What has he done?”

  “Ah, there was a child, ma’am.”

  Any trace of humour vanished and a cold fury began to grow in its place as I took a step forwards. “He hurt this child?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “There is proof?”

  “We caught the filthy bastard, your majesty,” a thin woman said. She had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and lifted her chin as she spoke. “He was on top of little Jenny.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “Aye, I heard the screams, ma’am,” a red-headed man said. His cheeks were flushed with anger. “When I came in the room, they was trying to pull him off her.”

  “Get him up,” I snapped, my voice so very cold as I held onto my fury.

  The man was gaunt, like many of the others in the town, and his eyes were full of madness. Whatever horrors he had witnessed had been too much for him or perhaps he had always been evil. Either way, he was clearly not sane.

  “You did what they said?”

  “Yas, ma’am,” he muttered. “M’sorry.”

  Witnesses and a confession. If he had raped some woman or man, I would have had him taken to Samuel. He would be put to use in fighting the undead and I would feel compassion for his victim but I would have still done it. We needed people to fight the undead.

  But a child. That was something I could not stand.

  I stepped forward, past my guards and right up to the man who was held by two CDF soldiers. He didn’t struggle, didn’t fight or argue, just began to quietly cry.

  In a civilised world, we would arrest him and have a trial. Witnesses would give their statements, evidence would be presented and the poor child would be cross-examined by those people versed in the law, both more interested in winning than in the welfare of the child.

  But it was no longer a civilised world.

  “For your crimes, the sentence is death,” I said and gently took the corporals poignard from her unresisting hand.

  The pointed weapon went up, beneath his chin and into his brain as I stared into those eyes so filled with pain and misery. I wanted to feel something, perhaps the joy that Ryan felt or even just satisfaction at ensuring justice for the child.

  I felt nothing as his blood ran down over my hand, as his eyes rolled up and as he sagged in the grip of those soldiers holding him. There was no remorse in me for what I had done, no regret nor guilt at the taking of a life. It was merely something that had to be done.

  “Justice is done,” Cass murmured and the crowd took up the words, repeating it, the sound a rising whisper.

  “Burn that and return to your patrol,” I told the corporal before turning to the crowd. “The rest of you, to your homes. Where is the child?”

  “I’ll show you, yer majesty.”

  I ignored her continued use of that honorific. It wasn’t the time to argue such matters, and I followed her to a house not far away.

  Inside, the family were gathered around a sobbing child, the mother doing her best to comfort her. She was only three or four. I swallowed hard and stepped into the house.

  “I’ll have a medic come by,” I said softly as the family turned accusing stares on me. “We’ll see to her physical hurts.”

  There was nothing we could do for the trauma though. The family just stared, eyes full of anger and pain. I turned on my heel and left them there, my presence not doing much to help them.

  Cass put a hand on my arm and I pulled away, shaking my head. Not right then, not there. I was on the edge of tears and I couldn’t show any sign of weakness right then. I had to be the cold hand of justice, I had to do the things that others couldn’t.

  I couldn’t cry, no matter how much I was breaking inside.

  Chapter 12

  The dawn found me to be in a reasonable humour. A novelty no doubt, or so Gregg pointed out to me several times over a breakfast of scrambled eggs. Another novelty in the zombie-ridden world we lived in and a pleasant one at that.

  “I’ve marked the trail on your map.”

  William sipped at a steaming cup of what I had been told was dandelion tea. It smelt awful. I chewed on the forkful of eggs that I had just stuffed into my mouth and nodded my thanks, as I took my time chewing. It would likely be some time before I tasted such a luxury once more.

  “Yeah, thanks, mate.” Gregg pulled a face as he sipped at the tea but didn’t comment on it, just set the cup down and stoically ignored it. “And for the breakfast.”

  “You’re welcome, dear.” Delilah offered a secretive smile as she took away his plate and still full cup of tea. She winked at him which I assumed meant something to him. “I’ve packed you some sandwiches for your lunch too. Roast beef with lettuce and beetroot from the garden.”

  “Sounds great, thanks.”

  Outside the dog barked and the others looked towards the door. I took another bite of my eggs.

  “You decent in there?”

  The voice belonged to a solidly built man with a thick Scottish accent and a wild beard of hair that hung to his chest. He poked his head through the door, grinning at his joke though nobody laughed. He didn’t seem to mind.

  “Morning, Mac. Some tea, love?”

  “Nah wee lass, I have business with the boss-man here.”

  William raised an eyebrow at that and the big man stepped inside the house. His boots were covered in mud and his clothes were damp. I held back a sigh as I realised we would be cold and damp before we’d gone far.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Some weirdness with the dead’uns.”

  “What kind of weirdness?”

  William set his cup down and pushed himself to his feet before lifting his coat from the back of his chair. He pulled it on as the other man replied.

  “Some kind of bother during the night. Looks like something attacked them.”

  “What?”

  It was easy, even for me, to hear the alarm in William’s voice.

  “Aye, man. There’s some body parts all spread about and the grass is covered in that nasty black shit they bleed.”

  Gregg tugged on my jacket and I glanced his way, seeing a look of worry on his face. I nodded slowly to show I understood what he was thinking.

  “Has this happened
before?”

  The two men both turned to look at me and William scratched at his head, his brow furrowing as he thought.

  “Nay, lad. They moan sometimes but for the most part, they just stand there until we go out and draw some away.”

  “It’s likely our fault,” Gregg added and I narrowed my eyes as I looked at him. “Well, it must be, mate. Probably that Reaper.”

  “A what now?”

  “One of those really fast ones,” Gregg clarified. He was met by blank looks. “You know, they have those claws and they’re really tall and fast.”

  “What ye on about then?” Delilah asked as she shared a confused look with the others.

  “There’s three types of zombies. We call the third type Reapers.”

  “Three types! Now’s not the time for jokes, lad.”

  The short bark of laughter that came was mine and I waved my hand as they all looked at me. It was just too funny.

  “They’ve not met the other types.”

  “How’s that possible?” Gregg asked, his voice rising.

  “What others?”

  William looked at each of us, his cheeks flushed as he thought we were laughing at him. It only made me laugh all the more.

  “You’ve been lucky.” Gregg gestured up at his face. “This was done by a Feral. It’s finger ends had withered and hardened around the bone making claws. They’re fast and cunning, almost smart.”

  “Reapers are worse,” I added. “They aren’t remotely human anymore. They have bone growths protecting their skull and they are intelligent. They feed on living and dead alike and can even heal. They’re dangerous. If this was done by one of them, it’s likely the one that’s been following us.”

  “Why would it be doing that then?”

  “I hurt it and it didn’t like that.”

  That should have told them everything about the damned things. Smart enough to hold a grudge and track us over miles. That made it far more dangerous than the feeble horde of Shamblers outside their walls.

  “I’ve never heard the like,” William said quietly, apparently still unsure whether we were telling the truth.

  “You’ve been lucky then.” If my voice were harsh, it was with cause. “Those things are rising up everywhere else, drawing armies of the undead around them and waging war on each other and any human they find.”

  “The end times are truly upon us,” Mac said in a small voice that was strange coming from such a large frame.

  “Like I said. Once we leave, it will follow.”

  “Yeah, but with a small army of Shamblers,” Gregg muttered.

  That was likely but it would be useful. They didn’t move very fast after all and we could have them follow us for quite a distance before we had to lose them. I could already see some possibilities.

  “We should be going,” I said and drank down the tea. It truly was vile. “A lot of walking to do.”

  I pushed myself up and tested my foot carefully. The bandages had been freshly changed and my poor injured toes had been cleaned. It hurt, I couldn’t deny that, but I could walk on it. My ribs, on the other hand, still ached.

  My knife was on my belt and I lifted my bag, still quietly happy to let Gregg carry the heavier pack, and nodded once to the family before heading to the door without a word. Behind me, Gregg offered his thanks and followed.

  It seemed that everyone else in the little community was already up and about. Tending animals or gardens, mending tools or just keeping an eye on the few children that ran around. A growl came from low down beside the door and I glanced over to the dog that watched me with unblinking eyes and teeth bared.

  The irritating creature crawled backwards beneath a chair, not taking its eyes from me and I sneered as I stepped off of the porch. Animals had never liked me, aside from Jinx, and I had no time for them in return.

  “This way,” William said as he joined us.

  He led us through the houses, past the man hauling up bucket after bucket of water from the well for the other villagers. He waved in greeting often and it was clear that he was well liked and respected by the people who lived there.

  Which irritated me.

  I’d known people like him before. Good, decent, people, who spent their lives in a blissful kind of ignorance of how the world really was. They saw smiling faces, charming tongues and I saw the lies they hid.

  In another time he would have been easy prey for me. Kind, trusting and far too eager to be helpful. I could have killed him in any number of ways. But, since I had made a promise to Lily, I would have to content myself with the raiders.

  A shiver of pleasure ran through me at the thought. A group of living people that I could kill with impunity. Now, admittedly, I had just murdered a good number of people in the hidden bunker, but that had been done at a distance.

  I needed to feel my blade slicing through flesh.

  “Why are you smiling?” Gregg asked suspiciously and I just winked at him in reply.

  We walked back through the tunnel, the only light provided by the torch that William held. The guards at the far end opened the way gate for us and we paused there, as Gregg gave his thanks once more.

  “You be careful. Watch out for Ferals and Reapers.”

  “We’ll draw away a large portion of the horde,” I added. “Don’t let it get to be so many. With a Reaper to lead them, they would tear through your community.”

  “Aye, well, thanks for the warning.”

  The man scratched at his head once more and I was pretty sure that he still wasn’t quite ready to believe us. He would learn, one way or another. I just hoped we could get some of his animals for the island first.

  I put the small community from my mind as we moved through the trees. The ground was wet and squelched beneath our boots as a light rain fell upon us. I kept my hand on the hilt of my knife, ready to draw it in an instant should the need arise.

  It was barely ten minutes after we had left the tunnel that we came upon the first Shamblers. They were pathetic, decaying creatures with skin sloughing off their wasted frames. Maggots crawled in their mouths and empty eye sockets and any clothes they might have worn had long since fallen away.

  A cloud of flies hung around them, almost as thick as the stench of their rot. I shared a glance with Gregg and held up a hand before he could step forward. I scanned the trees, a feeling of disquiet coming over me.

  Two zombies walking slowly through the forest. It could happen that they had somehow wandered away from the horde. But unlikely. If they found themselves facing an immovable barrier, they stood and stared at it until something drew them away.

  Something like a Reaper.

  I pulled my blade clear of the sheath and gesturing for Gregg to stay, I took two steps towards the zombies. Their heads turned towards me as they heard the squelch of my boots in the mud and a low moan rose from their mouths.

  One took a slow, stumbling step in my direction. Its movements were jerky and uncoordinated as though it no longer had full control of itself, which was likely. The muscles and tendons would have rotted along with the skin.

  I turned my head slowly, watching the trees carefully, alert for any potential movement. When nothing came, I took another step, then another. My blade slammed down into the skull of the first zombie and I stepped to the side as I pulled it free, away from the wild grasp of the other.

  Still, nothing burst from the trees to attack us.

  That irritated me. It had all the hallmarks of a trap and yet nothing happened as I sprung it. I stepped in and stabbed my blade through the other zombie's temple. It fell without a sound and yet still, nothing happened.

  “Well?” Gregg asked quietly. “Can I move now?”

  “Yeah.”

  He crossed to where the bodies lay, waving away the flights that were swarming around us. He peered down at each in turn as I watched the trees, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

  “These look almost dead… well, dead for a zombie I mean. They�
��re already dead. Or undead anyway.”

  “By next spring I would be surprised if a Shambler remained alive,” I muttered, not really paying attention to him.

  “Aye, maybe. Will make things easier anyway.”

  “Harder.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The zombies have restricted our movements and that of the other people too. Not to mention Ferals and Reapers. Once the Shamblers are all dead, there’ll be more people moving around. Will be easier for the others to hunt them.”

  “Jeez, you’re a barrel of laughs today. What’s got into you?”

  There! I smiled grimly as I caught the slightest flash of movement as grey skin brushed against a low branch. Not a trap then, a test. It wanted to watch us, to see how we killed. It had faced me several times and come off worse and it wanted to understand me.

  A different kind of shiver ran through me then, but one still brimming with excitement. It wanted to kill me, to devour my flesh and it was smart! I very much wanted to kill it.

  “Come on,” I said, not bothering to mention it to Gregg. “Let’s go and draw away some of that horde.”

  “You really want them to follow us? Isn’t that a bit risky?”

  “Aye, but fun too.”

  I flashed him a grin and set off through the trees, eyes moving constantly as I kept alert for the Reaper. I didn’t think it was ready to kill us just then, but it paid to be careful.

  Chapter 13

  “There’s a dozen sick already,” the camp doctor said and I held back a curse as I let my head fall forward, my fingers pressing against my temples.

  It had been almost two days since I had killed that vile man and yet I could still see his eyes when I closed my own. I could still feel that emptiness inside of myself, that lack of remorse, of life. It haunted me.

  I wondered for a moment if that was how Ryan felt when he didn’t kill. A life devoid of any real feeling, of any connection. I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me at the thought. It wasn’t anything I wanted to experience again.

  Somehow, I knew I would though, before I was done.

  “Sorry,” I said, shaking my head as I realised I hadn’t been listening. “Sick from what?”