Killing The Dead | Book 21 | The Journey Home Page 8

  There was space enough for the three of us to sit on one side of the table and we set our backpacks down and took a seat. Daniel and the others formed a rough circle around us, spears still held close.

  Alice returned with a tray that held bowls that steamed gently in the early morning air and she set it down on the table.

  “Nettle tea with honey, and porridge sweetened the same. Simple fare, but filling.”

  “Thank you,” Gregg said, taking a bowl eagerly.

  I waited as the other two began to eat and watched the woman watching me in turn. I tilted my head, curious to see if she would repeat that gesture too. She did not.

  “Where are you from?” she asked.

  “South,” I replied, pleased that the interrogation had finally begun in earnest.

  “Travelling to?”

  “North.”

  Her smile didn’t touch her eyes and I found myself with the impression that she was a strong-minded person who really didn’t seem to be fazed by my noncommittal answers.

  “Why north?”

  “Because we were already south.”

  “Mate,” Gregg said, around a mouthful of porridge. “Play nice.”

  He ignored my glower and I turned back to the woman and caught a smile on her face before it vanished as she forced it to stillness.

  “You seem healthy,” she said, changing tack. “Clothes are soiled from travel but well cared for. I suspect you are not rapists, nor raiders.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “We’ve encountered some of both. There’s an air of desperation and cruelty that clings to them. Their clothes and bodies as soiled as their souls and their intentions clear from the outset.” She paused and glanced back over her shoulder at the gathered families. “Your eyes have not shifted once. Oh, you noticed those people, but you do not look at the younger and pretty women with lust. You haven’t looked at the children once, so you are not that type of vile creature, and the only men you have given more than a passing glance are those who are nearby with weapons.”

  “You notice a lot.”

  “I do.”

  There was something about her I liked, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on what that was, but it was there. I found my guard relaxing, just a little, and that alarmed me.

  “You do not see us as a threat, then why the guards?”

  “I did not say you weren’t a threat.” Her laughter was sudden in its appearance and almost musical in tone. “You are most definitely a threat. Your companions, not so much.”

  “Hey!” Gregg sounded hurt and I recognised his look well enough as I had seen it many times before when I had said something offensive.

  “Forgive me, I meant no insult. I have no doubt you know how to use those weapons you carry, and your body tells the story of a survivor.”

  His hand moved almost involuntarily towards the scarred visage he bore, and she inclined her head.

  “Many wear scars from these dark times but none so great as yours. A survivor indeed.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, hearing the honest admiration in her words that even I could pick up on.

  “But you.” She turned back to me, and behind her the men with spears shifted. “You are something else, aren’t you?”

  I just smiled as she nodded, eyes flicking down to my untouched food and that smile playing on her lips once more.

  “No doubt, you have what it takes to be a raider, but I do not think you are one.”

  “I’m not.”

  “What then, are you?”

  There was something in her voice that made me pause. Gregg heard it too for he stopped still, spoon half-way to his mouth as his empty hand twitched towards the knife he wore on his belt.

  “I’m a killer,” I said, choosing honesty. “But only for those that deserve it.”

  Her eyes were fixed to mine, seeming to try and see deep into my tattered shred of a soul. I knew she would fail, for who could penetrate that darkness that wreathed the core of my being?

  “Yes,” she said, voice soft and low. “That I believe.”

  “You’re a priest,” I said in reply, tilting my head towards the church.

  “I am.”

  “Thought I recognised that self-inflated sense of piety,” I snapped, rising to my feet. “We’re done here.”

  “Mate!”

  “Please.”

  Just that, a single word, but in such a familiar tone that it gave me pause, and I knew what it was I recognised in her. She had coal dark hair, and eyes of pale blue. Her skin was pale with old acne scars and a beak like nose. She looked nothing like her, but all the same, she reminded me so much of Lily.

  That calm self-assurance, that desire to look after and care for those around her, that innate ability to take command and be the one people looked to when they needed a leader. The intelligence and the compassion.

  I settled back into my seat and swallowed back the surge of emotions that I should not be feeling, that I had never even believed I could feel before I met her.

  “What do you want?”

  “For some time, we have prayed, raising our voices to the sky in the hopes that one would come who would be able to do what we could not. We have sent out a call over the radio, asking for anyone who could help us.”

  I couldn’t suppress a mild interest. Maybe there would be someone I could kill after all, a way to purge myself of the pathetic feelings as I let loose the killer within.

  “Raiders?”

  “No.” Her smile faltered and the unease of the men behind her was clear in the way they shifted and looked away. “A demon has been terrorizing us, and we need a hero to slay it.”

  I looked over at my friend whose one eye was open wide as his mouth gaped and he just shook his head as I said, “huh?”

  “Perhaps.” Her smile transformed her face in a manner that I did not understand. “I should say that we need a killer. One who can slay the monster that has caused us such pain.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said, ignoring Gregg’s soft groan. I leant forward. “What type of monster is it?”

  Chapter 11

  I suppressed the urge to sneeze and waited, crouched atop the low platform above the sheep that was bleating incessantly. The small screen of branches around me had been coated quite liberally in blood and piss, both to hide my scent and attract the village’s demon.

  “Got cramp,” Gregg muttered, voice barely audible over the patter of rain hitting the sodden ground.

  His boot scraped on the wooden boards that made up the platform and I sucked in a deep breath of the fetid air, holding myself back from berating him.

  Four days. Four miserable slow and incredibly dull days as I searched for signs of the creature that would have allowed me to find its lair. Three failed nights of waiting for it to appear so that I could kill it.

  In that time, I had seen it only once, at a distance and moving too fast in the darkness for me to be sure of what it was. The creature was clever, stalking the villagers as it moved around their homes, looking for a way in.

  After several deaths early on, the people had learnt to be careful. Their doors and windows were locked, their animals kept inside. Lights and fires extinguished, as they cowered behind barricaded doors in single rooms, afraid to make a noise and draw it to them.

  Which is where they were as I sat atop that platform with Gregg for company, and a sheep below us as bait. I was pretty sure it would work and would have tried it sooner had not the villagers kicked up a stink about the ethics of doing so.

  In the very centre of the village, opposite yet another church that the village seemed to have plenty of, and on the village green, they had erected the platform at my behest. It was a simple thing with four stout legs planted in the earth and wooden boards on which we sat. Five feet high, it had enough space below me for the sheep that was the bait, and I could descend without need of a ladder.

  “Christ! I need to move,” Gregg muttered, and I motioned him to sile
nce as I caught a hint of movement between two houses to my right.

  It kept low to the ground, nose lifting as it moved, sniffing at the air, and drawn by the odour of blood that masked our own scents. A too long body and thin fingers almost as long as my forearm, each with a blackened tip that was as sharp as any talon.

  Reaper.

  An old one by the looks, with extensive bone growth around the skull, forming a crown of sorts, and over the forearms. Those had jagged ridges that would slice through skin as easily as its claws would.

  My heart was beating fast as I gently flexed the muscles in my legs, working them so that they would not be numb or cramp up as I leapt into action. My axe was in my right hand and I held my combat knife, blade down, in my left.

  The sheep, below me, was going crazy. It pulled at the rope holding it in place as it bleated and cried for help. I could barely contain my excitement as the Reaper came ever closer. Moving on all fours, head raised to sniff the air as its milky eyes stared blindly ahead.

  Long fingered hands reached for the sheep that was trying its best to run, but unable to do so, tied as it was to the platform legs. The Reaper took another step, clawed fingers wrapping around the small sheep’s woolly coat.

  I leapt forward, bursting through the screen of branches. my booted feet hit it square in the back and I spun, axe hammering against the bone covered skull as it twisted, a roar bellowing forth. My shoulder hit the rain sodden grass and I rolled coming to my feet as the Reaper turned, searching for me.

  Clawed hand slashed, whooshing past my face as I ducked low. My axe smashed the creature’s right knee as I swept the blade in my left hand across its belly. I caught a glimpse of the roiling crimson limbs of the parasite it carried for just a moment before it spun away and set off running.

  Gregg hit the ground with a curse and set off after me, limping from the cramp in his leg as I gave chase. Between the two houses, and through the tall grass. I didn’t hesitate as I burst through the hedge, skidding to a stop as I scanned the undergrowth.

  It hit me from the side, the full force of its body colliding with mine as those claws slashed at my coat. I twisted my hips, as I hit the ground, trying to get from beneath it as I rammed my blade deep into its back.

  “Mate!”

  He was too far away to make a difference, and I put him from my mind as the rank stench of death and decay filled my senses. Cracked and broken teeth snapped together before my face as I pushed against it, barely keep it from tasting my flesh.

  I dropped the axe, hand closing around its throat as I pushed, ignoring the claws as I pulled back my knife. A milky eye burst, foul blood spilling out across my face as I pushed that blade deep into the creature’s eye socket and through into its brain.

  And just like that it was over. I grunted beneath the weight of the foul body that collapsed atop mine and squirmed out from beneath it as Gregg finally joined me.

  “Christ!”

  “Lot of good you were,” I said, pulling off the tattered rags that had been my waterproof coat.

  “Like you need my help.”

  He had a point.

  “You hurt?” There was concern in his voice and I shook my head. “You’re bleeding!”

  I reached back with one hand, not sure if the dampness on my fingers was from my blood or the rain. With the adrenaline rushing through my system I barely felt it.

  “Claws,” Gregg said, flicking his torch on and shining it my way. “Crap, better get Abi.”

  At least I didn’t need to worry about becoming infected, though common sense suggested I not make mention of that to the villagers. If people started to learn there was a cure before I got it to Lily on the island, then it might never reach there.

  I kicked at the corpse of the Reaper with the toe of my boot and let out a soft grunt of disappointment. It was weak, scrawny, and clearly half-starved. Hardly a match for me and while it had got a few good hits in, I hadn’t really considered it a real threat.

  Which was incredibly boring.

  Was that what my life was to be like? A long and dull walk from point A to B, with no real threats in between. The tiger had seemed like it might be interesting but aside from the one half-eaten deer, I had seen no signs of it, and it was entirely likely that I had left it way back south somewhere.

  No hordes of zombies and very little in the way of bands of raiders. At the very least, I could have faced a Reaper that was challenge enough to keep me interested. But, no, it seemed like the apocalypse was unlike anything I had expected and was infinitely boring.

  Which did not please me.

  “Here!” Gregg called, pushing through the bushes, and I glanced back.

  Abigail followed him through and behind her, several of the villagers with their rough spears and burning torches. I almost giggled at that, for it seemed that they had devolved back to the middle ages in a few short years.

  Gregg held his torch up, the beam of light illuminating my back enough for Abigail, and apparently everyone else judging by the gasps, to see.

  “He’s infected!” Daniel yelled as he saw the deep gouge in my back that I was starting to feel.

  “No, he isn’t,” Abigail snapped back without looking around. “Claw wounds, not too deep fortunately. I’ll clean them out and stitch you up. You want to sit?”

  “Just do it,” I said, shoulders slumping a little as weariness swept over me. The adrenaline was departing my system leaving only pain and exhaustion in its wake. “Be quick.”

  Alice pushed through the group of men, dismissing their clear concern for her welfare with a wave of her hand as she approached me. She gave a curious and lingering glance at the wound on my back before turning her attention to the dead Reaper.

  “The demon is slain.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried well in the darkness and a cry went up from the men with spears. “Rejoice my friends, for we can sleep easy in our beds once more.”

  She glanced back at me, brow furrowing as Abigail began to stitch together the edges of my wound. I endured it stoically as I could not help but wonder at how dull life was due to be for my immediate future.

  “You are not infected?”

  “No,” Abigail said, pushing the needle through my skin. “He’s not infected but he will need to keep this clean.”

  “Then you will rest with us for as long as is needed,” she said. “A place is available for travellers and you can make use of that. It is the very least we can do.”

  “That will be fine,” Gregg said, as I tilted my head to look at her, narrowing my eyes as a thought occurred. “Anything you can spare will be welcome.”

  “Very good, then it is settled. You can sleep tonight and refresh yourselves and tomorrow we shall light a bonfire and celebrate what you have done.”

  “We should-“ Daniel began but she cut him off.

  “Yes, I shall see to that.”

  To what? I couldn’t help but wonder as I watched her. She smoothed down the front of her plain dress, a nervous habit of hers it seemed, and gestured for the men to come forward.

  “Let us remove this filthy creature’s remains.”

  “Aye, come on lads.” Daniel led the others forward, and with a scowl of distaste, he was the first to grasp one of the creature’s arms.

  As they hurried away with it, Alice remained close, her hands clasped together before her and her eyes fixed on mine. My mistrust of her was not entirely due to her being a priest, no there was something off putting about her.

  I was pretty sure that while not lying, she wasn’t telling us the whole truth and I resolved to speak to the others to watch what they said and did while we were in the town. More to the point, to keep an eye on our gear and the vaccine we carried.

  “Done,” Abigail said.

  “Very good. If you would follow me then, and please, light our way.”

  “Sure,” Gregg said, stepping up beside her and turning the torch as she instructed.

  My coat wasn’t worth saving and
I felt the chill of the rain as I followed the others. Our bags were where they had been left and appeared untouched, but even so, I knew I would check through them before I slept.

  We gathered them up and were led away from the village centre, past the small school and towards a building a short distance away. A simple red brick building, two-storeys with wide windows on the lower floor and ivy climbing the walls.

  She pushed open the door and stood aside, gesturing for us to enter. “We have no power, so candles will have to do.”

  “We have our torches,” Gregg said, and she nodded.

  “As you prefer.”

  The inside was clean and dry, which was a pleasant surprise, and had clearly been maintained. The furniture in the living room was worn and mixed, clearly from several different homes, but was comfortable, as I discovered when I sat down careful of the wound on my back.

  “Some of the ladies have made up the beds for you. We were unsure of the sleeping arrangements but there will be space aplenty for you all.”

  “Thank you,” Gregg said.

  “Come to the church in the morning,” Alice said, with a warm and inviting smile. “We breakfast after morning prayers and while you are welcome to join them, there will be no insult if you choose just to arrive for breakfast.”

  She glanced around and nodded once to herself as though assured that she had said what she needed to.

  “Very well. I shall see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

  With that, she left and the three of us waited until the door closed before Gregg hurried over to the windows and ensured the curtains were closed. Abigail watched him with something close to confusion on her face as he set down his pack beside mine and opened it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Checking that no one went through our… ah, it’s still here,” he said, lifting out the small black case that contained the vaccine. The lock was unbroken, and he quickly entered the code that unlocked it before lifting the lid. “All here.”

  “Good. Make sure everything else is there and then let’s check this place out,” I said. “Something’s not right.”

  “I don’t get it, she seems nice.”