Six Days With The Dead Part 15

Conversations began again around the Refectory as groups gave their opinions on what had happened. There wasn't much in the way of entertainment or gossip for those at Lanherne so whenever they were given something they could get their teeth into, they did so with relish. Eventually, once everyone had given their opinion, rehashed the scene, and then chatted in detail about what Charlie had told them, people began to say their goodnights and leave for bed. Slowly like a dripping bucket, the Refectory began to empty, until only Charlie, Imran, Liz and Alice remained. Sister Josephine was also there, collecting the last stubs of the tallow candles for the Sisters to use as they prayed in the chapel.

*We had to give them the chance to fit in,' Charlie said watching Sister Josephine plunge one table after the next into darkness, as she removed the candles. *Some people are too wrapped up in their own agendas to keep their mouths shut. Sorry if I spoke out of turn Sister but I could see the way the wind was blowing with the Reverend. He'd have never been able to keep his religion to himself without hating those who couldn't fit into his way of seeing the world.'

*Well, as you know, I prefer to normally take a vote but unfortunately you were right, we all have to live here in harmony and there's clearly nothing but hate and anger disguised as faith in that man's heart,' she replied, looking a little sad, she sighed, *but they've made their choice, so that's that.'

*Don't worry, I'll point them in the direction of the O'Brien home, perhaps they can make a life for themselves there. Seems a waste of a home otherwise,' Charlie said, realising Sister Josephine was thinking of the innocent baby being taken from the safety of the convent.

*Well, may G.o.d protect them,' Sister Josephine said quietly to herself, as she left the Refectory.

Sister Josephine walked down the dark stone corridor, the flickering light of the candles she held chasing away the darkness momentarily, so that as she walked she was held within a ball of orange light. As she neared the large carved doors that led to the chapel, she saw the Reverend standing there waiting for her in the darkness. He stood, head down, motionless as if waiting to be brought to life by some unseen puppet master. As she approached he slowly tilted his head to look at her. There was not much that Sister Josephine feared in this world anymore, after all, she had seen the Dead drag down and feast upon the living before her very eyes, but as she neared the Reverend her breath quickened and her heart beat loudly in her ears. It was something in the way the candle light reflected off his eyes. The orange flames, dancing briskly with a warm jollity, only appeared cold in those unfriendly eyes that some-how held an unspoken warning.

*Reverend?' she said, trying to fight the shakiness in her voice, *I thought you were going to your room?'

*I came to apologise for earlier, Mother Superior,' he replied, keeping his eyes on her while he bowed his head slightly *I fear I spoke out of turn. How you run your house is your business and although we will leave tomorrow, I wanted you to know I bare you no hard feelings.'

*Well, thank you... ' Sister Josephine said, slightly taken aback by the vast change in the Reverends character. In the short time she had known the Reverend she had found him a very proud and self-righteous man but now she would say he was humbling himself before her.

*And I was wondering if I may pray in your chapel a while?' he continued, beginning to push open the chapel door, *I fear I will need the Lord's strength for what is to come.'

*Yes, yes of course,' Sister Josephine said, gesturing with her hand for him to enter.

With a low creak, the door slowly swung open. Much like the rest of Lanherne, the chapel was mainly built from a cool grey stone. After many years of disrepair the chapel was certainly looking a little worse for wear and although she felt foolish, it sadden her to see it this way. In places the dusty layer of white paint was flaking, showing the stone beneath, and Sister Josephine knew that more than one of the high wooden beams that supported the arched ceiling, would soon lose their battle against the damp rot. Being quite a small chapel, there were only seven double rows of old wooden pews, before the stone floor rose step by step to the communion rail. The altar itself was a huge carved stone gothic masterpiece inlaid with intricately carved biblical scenes. It also stood before a wall of carved niches, each depicting various saints lifting their eyes heavenward in divine piety. As Sister Josephine walked down the central aisle to the communion rail, the Reverend followed silently a few paces behind. With the only light coming from the few candles the four other sisters had placed upon the alter around the base of the wooden crucifix and those Sister Josephine carried with her, the main body of the chapel sat shrouded in darkness. Placing the collection of candles she had retrieved from the Refectory at the base of the Cross, Sister Josephine knelt at the communion rail to pray. As she did so, the Reverend dropped to his knees behind her and then throwing his arms wide, fell to the floor to lie prostrate before his G.o.d. As the Sisters prayed silently to Jesus and his Holy mother, Sister Josephine could not help but catch the Reverends whispered pleads for strength to do His will. After twenty minutes she realised the Reverend was crying and repeating a single phrase over and over again *My hand is your hand, by your hand your children will be saved, thy will be done.'

Eventually, as the candles went out one by one, the time came that even the Sisters had to retire to their beds.

*Reverend?' Sister Josephine said quietly, reaching down to touch his shoulder *Reverend Moore... we will be going to bed now.'

But the Reverend just carried on whispering his holy mantra, if he heard Sister Josephine's words he gave no indication of it. Realising she couldn't physically pull the man to his feet, she ushered the other sisters around him and down the main aisle. As she followed the last of the sisters through the Chapel door, Sister Josephine turned to look at the Reverend Nathan Moore, lying face down, lost in his prayers. While she watched, the last candle she had left on the alter flickered and finally went out, leaving the chapel and Reverend Moore in complete darkness. Even as she slowly closed the chapel door behind her, she could still hear the Reverend's whispering voice echoing in the darkness.

*Thy will be done.'

DAY 5.

Liz's eyes fluttered open. There was a still chill in the small dark room but she knew outside the rising sun would be starting to burn away the cool morning mist. For once the nightmare of her initiation to this world of the Dead had not stalked her dreams. She glanced over at her sister sleeping in the bed next to her. From the flicker behind her eyes Liz could tell Anne was still dreaming. For someone who had seen such horrors in her young life, Anne had remarkably few nightmares. Perhaps because the daily horror was all she had ever known, the images did not follow her into her dreams to torture and torment her sleep. Anne certainly wasn't being tormented now. Liz looked down on her sister, a mess of gently snoring blond curls and wondered what sort of life Anne could expect to have when she grew up. Sooner or later, the Dead that walked the land would become too decrepit to move, let alone attack anyone and when that happened that only left the living to deal with. The worst part about the Dead was that they would be a recurring plague to blot the future of mankind forever. Communities always had to be on the lookout for the sick, old or dying. These could so easily bring a fresh wave of the Dead to feast on the living, if they were not dealt with properly. Liz had known of some communities that completely shunned the sick and dying, going so far as to expel them from within their walls, for fear they would turn, in an unwatched moment. The internally locking cell doors at Lanherne were a good precaution against the misfortune of someone dying in their sleep but there were still a lot of other rooms and corridors in the Convent that a dying person could turn into one of the Dead unnoticed. They were lucky that everyone at the moment was healthy but it was inevitable that old age would get them all in the end. With the Sisters being among the oldest of the group, they surely would be the first to go and Liz did not relish the thought of being the one to drive a blade through any of the kind Sisters' skulls. When that day came it would be a sad day indeed. The Sisters had opened their home to the survivors and given them a place to live, that was not only a refuge from the Dead, but far more importantly, a home.

Anne stirred momentarily in her sleep. Rolling over, her arm fell from the bed, her small delicate fingers just brushing the stone floor. It was then that Liz noticed the strange purple crystal hanging from Anne's wrist. Attached to a thin gold coloured chain, the shard of sparkling stone glinted, catching the first few rays of morning light filtering through the small high window. Liz wondered where Anne had got the unusual bracelet, she certainly hadn't seen anyone else at the convent wearing it and from the look of it, it was too clean and new looking to have been retrieved from one of the Dead. Trying not to wake Anne, Liz leant forward to take a closer look. Turning the cool stone over with her fingers, she could see that on the back some small letters had been inscribed.

*Carnglaze?' she said quietly to herself but was none the wiser as to what it meant or where Anne had got it.

*Hi... morning Lizzy,' Anne said sleepily, the stone slipping from Liz's fingers as Anne lifted her hand to rub her eyes, *Why are you leaning so far out of bed? You'll fall,' she continued to say through a stifled yawn.

*Morning,' Liz said, leaning back onto her own bed. *I was looking at your bracelet. Where did you get it from?'

Anne, ignoring her sister's question, snuggled down into her blankets, deciding the room was too chilly to get out of bed just yet.

*Anne, where did you get it?' Liz repeated, pulling the cover away from Anne's head.

*What! It's just a bracelet. Let me sleep a bit longer Lizzy, the goats can wait a few more minutes, I'm tired,' Anne said, trying to pull the blanket back over herself.

*Anne...' the tone in Liz's voice made it clear she wanted an answer now.

*Oh, alright!' Anne said, knowing Liz wouldn't let it go. *The lady with the baby gave it to me when she was coming out of Sister Josephine's office last night.'

*Ruth? The Reverend's wife gave it to you? But why?' Liz said, reaching forward to look again at the sparkling purple stone.

*Don't know,' Anne replied, shrugging her shoulders. *She was nice though. It's a pity she has to leave.'

*Hmm,' Liz said, thinking about Ruth and her newborn soon to be travelling through the countryside again, with nothing but her husband's blind faith to protect them. She wished them luck, they would need it.

*Anyway, come on, it's time to get up,' Liz said, nudging Anne's bottom with her foot. *Don't forget there's Stinky and Ratbag to look after now too, Sister Claire will be waiting in the stable to show you and Justin how to take care of them.'

Anne mumbled something from under her blankets but after repeated nudges from Liz's foot she finally sat up.

*Alright, alright... I'm up', she said begrudgingly.

As she began to run the fingers of one hand through her knotted curls, she rubbed the last of the sleep from her eyes with the other. In that moment Liz realised that even though Anne had been forced to grow up fast, taking on the work responsibilities and dealing with the harsh realities of surviving just like every-one else at Lanherne, she was still just a seven year old child. Liz could remember when she was Anne's age and doubted she would have been able to do the things she asked her sister to do on a daily basis. But the world Liz had grown up in was gone and could never be fully retrieved again. Putting aside her gloomy thoughts, Liz realised there was no point in mourning the loss of Anne's childhood, when Anne herself could not know what she had missed. This way of life was normal to Anne and a world where children played all day, or studied in school, would be as alien to Anne as this new world was to Liz. As long as Anne grew up to be a good person who valued the lives of those around her, Liz knew she would have made good on her mother's last spoken request and had taken care of Anne.

Once Liz and Anne had dressed, they made their way through the dim cool corridors down to the kitchen. As always, Sister Rebecca and Sister Catherine were there preparing breakfast for everyone. Liz wondered how the women, in fact how all of the sisters, managed to always to be the first up and about in the convent, especially when they were always the last to go to bed too.

*Morning girls,' Sister Rebecca said, looking over her shoulder from the eggs she was cooking as they walked in, *did you sleep well?'

*Yes thanks,' Liz replied, taking two bowls down from the shelf. *Someone slept so well they didn't want to get up to do their ch.o.r.es at all.'

Anne yawned as she sat at the kitchen table, ignoring Liz's comment. Sister Catherine ruffled Anne's hair playfully, as she placed a plate of bread on the table.

*Well, you better wake up sleepy head, Sister Claire is giving you and Justin a master-cla.s.s in pig rearing this morning,' Sister Catherine said, winking at Liz. *I think she's going to make it a compet.i.tion as to who can look after their pig the best. Justin is already down at the stable with her getting tips.'

Not wanting to be bested by Justin, Anne grabbed some slices of the bread so she could eat her breakfast on the go.

*And behave.' Liz called after Anne, as her sister disappeared quickly through the kitchen door.

*Thought that would wake her up,' Sister Catherine said, smiling. *I was the same when I was her age, always in compet.i.tion with my brothers and would do whatever I could to prove I was better than them to my father.'

*Did you come from a large family?' Liz asked, picking at slice of bread.

Even though she had lived in the convent for over a year, she hadn't pried into the past lives of the Sisters. In general it was an unspoken rule that you didn't question people about what their lives were like before the Dead came, unless they broached the subject themselves. You just didn't know what can of worms you were opening by merely asking if someone had been married or, if they had had a family. People didn't like to be put in a position where they were forced to recall loved ones that may literally have been ripped away from them by the Dead.

*Yes, I had four brothers,' Sister Catherine said, a far away look on her face .*I lost touch with them when I took my Holy orders in my twenties. I guess they're all gone now though.'

*We can't pretend to understand it, Catherine, but G.o.d certainly called you to service. He planned for you to live. He planned for you to be here at Lanherne,' Sister Rebecca said, looking uncharacteristically serious.

Once Liz had finished her breakfast of bread with goat's cheese, she quickly grabbed two of the boiled eggs Sister Rebecca had been peeling to eat on the go.

*Oh Liz, do we know what time the Reverend and his wife are leaving us?' Sister Rebecca said, as Liz was about to disappear out of the door.

*Not sure, sometime this morning I think. Why?' Liz replied, pausing in the doorway.

*Well, I've put together a bit of food for them,' Sister Rebecca said, indicating a small box on the floor. *Just because they won't be staying here, I can't see them go without a meal to eat on the road.'

*Charlie and I are popping over to Jackson's this morning to tell him about what's been going on, but I'll put the box by their cart for you, that way they'll see it before they go,' Liz said, bending down to pick up the box.

With the box under her arm and a boiled egg sticking out of her mouth, Liz waved briefly to the two Sisters as she left the room. Walking down the cold dimly lit corridor, the only light coming from the single window at the end of the hallway, Liz tried to supress a shiver going through her. Knowing the early morning air would still hold the cool crispness of dawn, she wished she had remembered to bring her jacket.

Stepping out into the court yard, Liz could already hear Ann and Justin playfully arguing about the pigs. With Sister Claire keeping the two of them under control, she knew they couldn't get into too much trouble, so she left them to sort it out amongst themselves. Lars had already hitched up the Reverend's sad looking horse to their cart and was just finishing attaching Samson's bridal, for their own short trip to the village. As usual Penny wasn't too far from Lars and being as helpful as ever, was dancing barefoot and humming a tune to herself. Liz wondered if the young woman would ever be able to leave the world she had created for herself in her head and join the rest of them in reality. Dancing past her, Penny stopped to hand her a feather she had found, a distant smile on her face. On some level, Liz envied Penny's internal world, and after the things she had had to deal with over the last few days, she wouldn't mind escaping reality once in a while herself.

*Thank you, Penny,' Liz said twirling the feather between her fingers.

As usual Penny didn't seem to hear her and just went on with whatever she thought she was doing. Waving *good morning' at Lars, Liz went to place the small box of supplies by the Reverends cart. It was not until she was placing the box on the ground by one of the back wheels, did she notice that Nathan and Ruth were standing quietly together on the other side. Confused, she wondered why they were there both silently staring at something that had caught their attention. Following their line of sight, she was none the wiser. They appeared to be watching Justin and Anne as they played with the two piglets. Unfortunately, their argument seemed to have progressed to another level and they were chasing each other outside the stable. With the heavy rain the previous night turning much of the ground to a muddy mess, Liz could guess where this was going. Sure enough, at that moment Justin slipped and landed face down in the mud. This of course bought forth an uncontrollable riot of laughter from Anne.

*Oh, for G.o.d's sake,' Liz said to herself, getting a dirty look from both the Reverend and Ruth for her blasphemy.

Ignoring their disapproving looks, Liz knew she would have to intervene before Anne got herself into trouble. At that point her sisters laughing abruptly stopped when, thanks to Justin's good aim, she too suddenly had a face full of wet mud. Before a full-on mud throwing war could break out, Liz walked over to the two squabbling children.

*Hey, come on you two, calm down,' Liz said, trying not to laugh at the two mud splattered urchins before her, *and I thought Sister Claire was meant to be here? She's not going to be too happy about you mucking about.'

As she suspected both of the children began instantly blaming the other. When they both realised Liz didn't really care whose fault it was, they soon fell silent.

*Sister Claire decided to check out what damage the storm did the fields. She out there now with the some of the others,' Justin said, wiping the worst of the mud from his face.

*I thought we were a little thin on the ground,' Liz said, looking about the courtyard. She could see Imran and Alice on watch duty, Bryon with Adrian, examining some seedlings that they had planted in a smaller version of the polytunnel and approaching her now, Barry and Charlie.

*What have you been up to young man?' Barry said, trying to put a stern look on his face but failing miserably.

*It was her fault, she...' Justin began but Barry cut him off mid flow.

*Well from the state of you both, I'm guessing you're both to blame.'

Anne gave Justin a *told you so' type smile and instantly Liz knew Anne was probably to blame after all.

*Right, go and wash and change,' Liz said to Anne, *and you're washing those clothes yourself, you hear me. If I find out you asked one of the Sisters to help, there'll be trouble.'

*You too, Mr,' Barry said to Justin, agreeing with Liz. *Come on I'll help you fill the shower tanks so you can wash properly.'

Waving Justin and Anne ahead of him, Barry began to walk back into the Convent, his two muddy charges still bickering.

*Don't forget what I said,' Charlie called after him.

*Sure, I'll get it before I sort out these two,' Barry called over his shoulder and with a brief wave the three of them disappeared inside.

*What was that about?' Liz asked Charlie, as they walked over to their cart.

*I told him to get one of the handguns for when we're out, just in case,' he replied.

As they walked past, the Reverend and his wife, were making last minutes checks on the cart.

*We'll be going shortly,' Ruth said politely. *And thank you again for the directions to the O'Brien home, it sounds perfect.'

*Well no hard feelings and we'll send someone to check on you in month or so, make sure you're ok,' Charlie said putting his hand out to shake the Reverends hand.

*It is not our place to judge you,' the Reverend replied blatantly ignoring Charlie's extended hand. *The Lord will judge you soon enough. And now if you'll excuse us we left the baby asleep in the room, so we'll just get him and be off.'

*Whatever you say, Reverend,' Charlie replied, annoyed that his gesture of friendship had been thrown back in his face.

Liz and Charlie watched Ruth and her husband enter to convent, before going to their own cart to make their own checks.

*G.o.d or no G.o.d, that bloke's an a.r.s.ehole,' Charlie said to Liz, as he ran his hand over Samson's flanks. *Pity that child will grow up with him for a father.'

*Well not everyone can have a dad as cool as you, you know,' Liz replied, pinching his cheek playfully. *Come on Pops, let's get this show on the road.'

Eating his late breakfast, Mohammed sat alone at one of the Refectory tables that faced the tall windows looking out over the gardens below. He could see Alice doing her patrol of the walkway. Every few meters or so, she would stop to make sure none of the Dead were pawing at the base of the wall. Thinking about Alice, he felt it was just his bad luck she had recently paired up with Charlie. He had been playing it cool with her but it was now obvious he had waited too long to show his hand. As far as his interest in Alice was concerned, that ship had now sailed. On the walkway he could also see his brother turning the gears that slowly opened the gate to allow Samson and the cart through. When they got back in a couple of hours, he would talk to Charlie about taking Duncan to Cawsands Bay sometime. If the residence had fled on ma.s.s, like he said, they may have left behind some parts Duncan could use to make a working CB radio. If anyone would have had the right parts, the fishermen would. Not that there was any guarantee anyone was left out there with a CB to answer but it was worth a try. The trip would also give them a chance to check on the Reverend and his wife. Charlie had given him directions on how to get there, suggesting his family use it as a refuge.

As Mohammed thoughts drifted, thinking about the outside world they could possibly contact with a radio, he did not hear the bare feet softly padding across the floor behind him. He did not see the old fashioned razor shaking slightly, as it was gripped fiercely by an approaching hand. He did not realise an arm was being drawn back, readying itself to strike. When he finally heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, it was too late. With a flash of reflecting light, the blade fell, drawing swiftly across his exposed throat. In that split second everything stopped for Mohammed. Surprised there was no pain, Mohammed slowly brought his hand up to his throat. In his shocked state, his mind was not able to process the information his body was giving him. He wasn't aware of the spray of blood shooting from his severed neck through his fingers, across the table and splashing over the window pane. He looked down at his fingers, his arms now drenched with his own blood and wondered why they were wet. His dying body did not understand why it couldn't catch its breath or why the edges of its vision had begun to darken, tunnelling slowly as the world faded away. There was something he should do, Mohammed was sure of it, but the thoughts in his head seemed to be jumbled and melting away like snow. Like the snow, his hands and feet must surely be in, they were so cold they tingled.

*Why was he standing in snow?' He thought to himself.

*Why couldn't they be warm like the fingers now resting on his head, tightly gripping his hair?' He wondered.

The fingers began to pull his head back. The fingers became a hand and then an arm until Mohammed, his vision nearly totally gone, was looking into the set of pale blue eyes behind him. With a tug, the hand pulled Mohammed's head back sharply, the force ripping the wound across his throat wider. Satisfied her job was done, Ruth carefully closed the razor, placed it in her pocket and walked out of the Refectory. As she closed the door behind her she smiled, thinking of the surprise someone would shortly find inside.

Slipping back into her shoes, Ruth looked up at her husband with the baby sleeping in his arms.

*The Heathen is no more. The Lord has pa.s.sed his judgement upon him. One by one, each shall be judged by G.o.d's hand and they will fall before Him, unworthy and tainted by the age of Man,' Ruth said, calmly as she reached up to stroke her husband's cheek. *Now, take the infant to the cart while I get the girl.'

Function by function Mohammed's brain began to shut down. As his blood seeped across the table in front of him, it dripped steadily to form a puddle on the floor. Within one minute, the real Mohammed was no longer sitting in the Refectory. What had made Mohammed was now gone for ever. His memories and personality were now nothing more than fading electrical impulses in a brain, no longer capable of working. Within the sh.e.l.l that had housed Mohammed for nineteen years, something else was taking over, something alien to Nature's normal plan. For three minutes the body of Mohammed lay as it should, still and motionless but then like a slap in Nature's face, one of the fingers twitched. The movement was so slight, if someone hadn't been looking directly at the finger they would have missed it. But then with a spasm the whole hand moved and violently his right leg kicked out against a table leg. A low gurgle began deep inside the corpse's chest and behind its Dead eyelids, milky eyes moved rapidly back and forth in a h.e.l.lish parody of sleep. The body that had been Mohammed moved its neck, causing its head to loll forward, hiding the deep gash across its throat. The gurgle that had started within its chest began to force its way up the creature's throat and as cold lips parted, a low chilling moan echoed around the Refectory. The thing that was no longer Mohammed, slowly opened its eyes and began looking around the room for something it needed, something it needed with such desperation that the need burned at the very centre of its being.

Up on the walkway, Imran watched as the Reverend walked out of the convent holding his baby in his arms. Looking behind him all the time, the Reverend Moore went to the back of his cart, opened the hatch and rather indelicately dumped the baby inside. Lars had already hitched up the poor beast that would have to pull the Reverend and his family to Cawsands Bay. Despite a good feed and a night's rest, the horse still looked to Imram, to be on its last legs and he wondered if they would make it at all. Charlie and Liz had already gone to the village, so Lars had moved the Reverend's horse and cart, positioned in front of the gate, ready for their departure.

Ruth walked briskly down the dim corridors to the room she knew held the child they would take with them. The child that was the one beacon of purity within these cursed walls. She had hoped the small boy could also have been saved but he was tainted like the rest of them, the stain of Man on his soul. She could feel the cold metal of the razor knocking against her leg with each step she took and although it was an instrument of G.o.d's will, she hoped she would not have to use it again today. As she turned a corner, she almost b.u.mped into one of the Sisters. She did not know her name and didn't care. This woman was as d.a.m.ned as the thing she had left in a pool of its own blood.

*Oh, Sister I am sorry, there's so little light in here,' Ruth said, her hand hovering in her pocket, ready to grab the razor.

*That's perfectly alright Ruth, I should've been looking where I was going,' the sister said, smiling kindly.

*Well, we're about to leave and my husband will be waiting for me in the courtyard. May G.o.d go with you, Sister,' Ruth said.

Knowing she didn't have much time, Ruth moved aside so she could walk around the Sister. She had walked a few steps when she stopped, turned back to the woman walking away from her and called, *Oh, Sister! I forgot someone was looking for you in the Refectory.'

*Thank you, Ruth,' the woman said, with a little wave.

*See, I didn't need to know her name,' Ruth thought to herself, as Sister Margaret walked unknowingly to her death.

Ruth stood silently outside Anne's door, waiting for her call to action. As if on cue, a woman's terrified scream echoed through the corridors. She heard movement from inside the room, as a little hand secured the bolt across the door.