Six Days With The Dead Part 16

*Her sister has taught her well,' Ruth mused, as she waited a few minutes to add to the authenticity.

When she thought she had waited long enough after the scream, she began to pant, sob and pound on the door, as if she had just run to that point in the corridor.

*Please Anne! Please it's me, Ruth the Reverend's wife. Please let me in, the d.a.m.ned are inside the Convent! Please, for my baby, Anne, don't let them kill me baby. Please!' The last word caught in her throat, as she was wracked with a panicked sob.

Inside her room, Anne listened to the Reverend's wife pleading to come in. Liz had told her if the Dead ever got into the convent she should never open her door to anyone, no matter who it was. The Reverend's wife sounded terrified, why didn't she go to one of the other rooms? Didn't she know the noise she was making would attract the Dead if they heard it? This woman was stupid but she didn't deserve to die and neither did the baby. Hoping she was doing the right thing, Anne reached up and drew the bolt back across. Slowly the door swung inward, revealing the Reverends wife, standing with tears running down her face. As the small woman turned to look at Anne, her face seemed to change before Anne's eyes. The tears stopped immediately and a cold hardness appeared in her pale blue eyes.

*You're coming with me, the Lord had commanded it,' she said coldly, lunging for the small girl standing in the doorway.

Five minutes earlier Sister Margaret was walking along the corridor to the Refectory, mentally ticking items off a list of things she needed to do that day. As she reached the door she noticed a strange smell in the air which she was unable to place. Like an itch in the back of her mind, the smell triggered a basic warning, but a warning of what, she could not pin down. Her hand hovered momentarily over the door handle, some primal instinct whispering an alarm to stop. On some deep subconscious level she knew she should not open the door but Sister Margaret was not a woman who gave into such things. After she briefly scolded herself for being so silly, she turned the handle and opened the door. As the door swung inward, the sight she beheld froze her to the very core. Immediately she realised the smell was the coppery tang of blood in the air. Her wide shocked eyes somehow took in every detail of the room in an instant. The wide spray of blood across the wooden table top, the pattern of droplets running down the gla.s.s on the window and of course the man sat slumped in the chair, droplets of blood dripping from his long fingers adding to the large pool of blood. A deathly silence filled the room, broken only by the rhythmic dripping of blood hitting the floor. Sister Margaret's world suddenly shrank down to the path of a single droplet of blood slowly running down the corpse's index finger. She could not move her eyes from the scarlet fluid running along the finger nail groove, to pool at the tip of the finger. The droplet expanded until it could hold no more liquid and then suddenly fell to the puddle below. She so desperately wanted to scream but the only thing to escape her throat were sharp panicky breaths. She willed her legs to move, she needed to get away from the carnage in the room but her body refused to do as commanded. When a tiny whine finally managed to pa.s.s her lips, the corpse sitting at the table sprang violently to life. A face turned sharply in her direction, a face spattered with blood and with teeth bared. It was a face she recognised. Looking into Mohammed's Dead eyes she knew she was what the Dead man wanted most in the world. Fighting against the primal fear that had taken control of her body, Sister Margaret managed to move one of her feet to take a step back. Before her shoe had left the stone floor, the Dead Mohammed sprang from his chair, knocking it backwards to the floor. With a ma.s.sive flood of adrenalin now pumping through her body, Sister Margaret managed to fight off the paralysis that had taken control of her muscles, to turn her body away from the fast approaching blood covered corpse. Before Sister Margaret was more than two steps into the hallway, the Dead thing lunged and landed heavily on her back. As they both fell to the floor, Mohammed's blood covered hands were already ripping away at her veil, desperate to get to her flesh beneath. Finally Sister Margaret's vocal cords let forth the horrified scream that had been building inside her. But for Sister Margaret, the scream had come too late. She had run out of time and as the echo of her cries died in the dim corridor, she knew no one would come in time to rescue her. With her veil now completely torn from her head and her wimple ripped at one shoulder, Mohammed threw himself down onto her exposed flesh. Sister Margaret screamed wildly and carried on screaming, while his teeth bit violently into her cheek. Such power was behind the bite that his teeth reached almost to the bone and as Mohammed pulled his head back he tore away a large chunk of her face. Sitting astride the struggling woman, the creature that had once been Mohammed chewed upon the stolen flesh hungrily, barely swallowing the mouthful before returning to tear another strip of flesh from the woman's face beneath him. By the time the Dead Mohammed had stripped the flesh from one side of Sister Margaret's face and neck, the woman's body had ceased in its struggle to survive, and as the body went into a cardiac arrest brought on by the shock and pain, Sister Margaret thankfully died.

While the last sparks of life fled Sister Margaret's body, the animated sh.e.l.l that had been Mohammed, jammed his fingers deep into her right eye socked and ripped out the eye, together with most of the optic nerve. Just as he was about to devour Sister Margaret's eye, a brief spasm rippled through the body beneath him. Looking down at the corpse, the Dead Mohammed did not understand what was happening. His Dead brain could not comprehend that Sister Margaret was about to join him in the ranks of the Dead, as all of a sudden the warm thing that had captivated him to the point of frenzy and had promised to satisfy the hunger that burned within him, was suddenly of no interest at all. Stuffing the eyeball in his mouth, Mohammed's animated corpse pushed itself off Sister Margaret and stumbling slightly, began to walk down the corridor in search of other warm things to bite into.

By the time Sister Margaret's reanimated corpse, managed to open its remaining film covered eye, the thing that had once been Mohammed had disappeared down one of the many dark corridors of Lanherne in search of warm flesh. Letting out a pitiful moan filled with such desperation and need, Sister Margaret's corpse pushed itself up from the blood covered floor and unsteadily got to its feet. It knew it needed something, something to stop the pain, surely if only it could eat, the pain would go. Yes, it would eat and eat and never feel pain again. Of course the Dead brain in Sister Margaret's head could not think of these thoughts in any rational way or intellectualise the cause and effect of eating the living. No, this was knowledge on a far more basic, fundamental level. Just as a wildebeest or sea turtle is hardwired to migrate across thousands of miles, or a spider spins its web over and over. To ignore the need to rip, tear and feed on the flesh of the living was impossible for the Dead Sister Margaret. You might as well ask the living to stop breathing. Devouring the flesh of a living being was what she was meant to do, on some level she knew this. So with nothing more than this basic compulsion demanding to be sated, the body that had once housed Sister Margaret, went in search of something warm to eat.

As tears streamed down Anne's face, Ruth held her firmly behind the door that led out into the courtyard. Ruth had dragged Anne, with her hands tied and mouth gagged, to the door and truly this was G.o.d's work, for he had made sure she had encountered n.o.body else on her short journey through the corridors. Holding the small girl behind the door she waved to her husband, letting him know all had gone to plan. At the signal, Reverend Moore ran over to the ladder leading up to the walkway.

*Hey! Hey, young woman!' he called to the woman turning in his direction when he stepped on the walkway. *The d.a.m.ned are in the Convent! Didn't you hear the screaming? You must save them.'

*What? Oh, s.h.i.t!' Alice said, a million scenarios rushing through her mind, all of them bad *Imran!'

As she screamed his name, Imran came running along the walkway, his bow already off his back ready for attack. At the sight of Imran running towards him, the Reverend stepped back, a shocked look on his face.

*Surely Ruth had sent this one to h.e.l.l?' he thought to himself, *No matter, they will all be there soon enough.'

*Imran, the Dead are in the Convent! They're inside!' Alice said, her eyes wide with fear and panic.

Climbing down the ladder as fast as she could, Alice knew within minutes her metal bat would be swinging at the skulls of friends no longer alive. Imran, knowing time was of the essence, did not wait to be told twice. He leapt to the ground when he was only half way down the ladder and ran after Alice, as she disappeared inside the building. Hidden behind the open door, Anne watched Imran and Alice run past her, unaware she was there. She tried desperately to make a sound so they would turn but to no avail. Struggling against her kidnapper was useless, with the razor pressed to her throat there wasn't much she could do. *Stay alive', that's what Liz had always told her. No matter what happened or what she had to do or go through, as long as she stayed alive, she knew Liz would come for her. Once Ruth was sure the coast was clear, she pulled Anne roughly from their hiding place, out into the courtyard. Already Nathan had got the first gate open and was starting to winch open the second outer gate so they could make their escape. Ruth thought it would be good to be on their way home again, they had spent too long among the d.a.m.ned and it sickened her. Throwing open the back hatch to their cart, Ruth thrust Anne inside.

*Just sit still and nothing will happen to you, OK' Ruth said, climbing in and pulling closed the hatch behind her. Seeing the fear in Anne's eyes, Ruth leant forward to gently, almost reverently touch her cheek.

*Don't worry, you are one of the chosen,' Ruth said, nodding as a strange madness danced behind her pale blue eyes, *The Lord has sent you among us to begin again. Don't you see? You are untainted by the age of Man. You were born into a world where the d.a.m.ned have been judged by our Lord and found wanting. There is no stain of the past world upon your soul.' With a far away smile on Ruth's face she moved to the front of the cart and gathered up the reins.

*You are pure,' she said, quietly over her shoulder, *and with the others, the Lord shall repopulate his kingdom.'

With a yell and a sharp flick of the reins, the cart began to move out through the open gates. Once the cart had been pulled all the way through, one of the side hatches opened and the Reverend Moore climbed in, panting.

*I thought you were going to kill the heathen?' he said, glancing briefly at Anne, tied up and gagged in the back of the cart.

*I did?' Ruth said a puzzled look on her face.

*Oh... ' the Reverend said, absentmindedly toying with his crucifix. *I guess he had a brother then. Never mind. G.o.d's demand will be done by one hand or another.'

A sob racked through Anne's terrified body, as she realised the Reverend's wife had murdered either Imran or Mohammed and now, one by one her friends would fall to the Dead stalking Lanherne.

Alice and Imran skidded to a halt at a junction in the main corridor. Pausing so she could listen for any sounds, Alice nodded for Imran to take one direction, while she would take the other. With an arrow pulled taught in his bow, Imran walked slowly with his back pressed to the wall, towards the Chapel. Wishing him luck, luck that she too would need if they were to survive this day, Alice made her way towards the kitchen. She soon reached the next corner and paused. Listening intently she could clearly hear a set of footsteps coming briskly towards her. Pushing herself flat against the wall, she held her bat high and readied herself for what may be coming. The figure came into view and Alice breathed a sigh of relief.

*Adrian,' she whispered.

*s.h.i.t!' he said, jumping at Alice's unexpected presence. *d.a.m.n Alice, you scared the c.r.a.p out of me! Did you hear the screams?'

*No, but the Reverend did. Where did they come from?' she asked in a hushed whisper, continually looking up and down the corridor, she didn't want a nasty surprise running up behind her.

*Upstairs I think,' he said, nervously chewing on his thumb.

*Right then that's where we're headed,' she said, handing him the long knife that had been strapped to her calf *... come on.'

Alice began to walk off, leaving a stunned Adrian looking at the knife now placed in his hand.

*s.h.i.t!' Adrian said to himself.

Adrian wasn't a fighter, he was good at hiding until things blew over, that's what he did. Stalking about in dark corridors actually looking for the Dead was crazy. Alice had just reached the stairs leading up to the sleeping cells. With one foot hovering on the first step, she turned to Adrian.

*Well?' she whispered. *Are you coming, or are you going to be a p.r.i.c.k you're whole life? Think of someone else for a change.'

She had barely finished the last word when a body came running at full speed down the stone staircase, knocking her to the floor and winding her. In the collision her bat was knocked from her grasp and rolled across the corridor floor, out of reach. Instantly b.l.o.o.d.y hands were on her and she knew whoever it was, was now one of the Dead. As she fought for her life, she struggled to keep her hands under the Dead creature's chin. Looking up at the savage Dead thing, desperate to rip into her flesh, she realised to her dismay that it was Mohammed. Her fingers slipped on his blood soaked neck and as her hands failed to find a good grip they slid lower until her fingers slipped sickeningly into a large slash wound across his neck. With Mohammed's oesophagus now literally gripped between her fists, Alice managed to keep just out of reach of his snapping gore covered jaws.

*Help me, you f.u.c.king a.r.s.ehole!' Alice screamed. Pushing with all her might, she was only just keeping Mohammed's hungry mouth from her skin. *Help me!'

Risking a glance in Adrian's direction, she saw him shaking his head in disbelief and slowly backing away.

*Arraghh!' she screamed in frustration and anger.

If she got out of this alive, Adrian would pay for leaving her like this. Mustering up the last of her strength she yanked Mohammed's neck to one side, throwing him off balance for a split second. Using this small bit of momentum, she managed to lift one of her knees sharply up to her chest. Thankfully with her knee now wedged between them she could force just that bit more s.p.a.ce between herself and the frenzied cadaver.

Cursing herself for giving Adrian her calf knife, she knew she must get out from under Mohammed if she wanted to have any chance of survival. With the strength in her arms waning, she knew if she didn't make some sort of move now, Mohammed's corpse would be in biting range in a few seconds. With a strength mustered from a pure determination to survive, Alice yanked Mohammed to the side again. Thankfully this time, his body, slick with his own blood slipped off, giving her the split second she needed to wriggle out from beneath him. The Dead Mohammed, unable to abandon his quarry, reached to grab the back of her jacket but missed and Alice pulled herself across the blood smeared stone floor. Seeing he was about to lunge for her again, Alice turned on her hip and kicked Mohammed hard in the face. With a sickening crack, cartilage broke and skin split, as his nose was crushed by her forceful kick. Scrabbling away on her hands and knees, faster than she thought possible, Alice managed to make it to the foot of the staircase before Mohammed got to his feet. Once she had reached the stone staircase she pulled herself upright and turned to face her attacker. Now that she was on her feet she knew she stood a better chance and with a well placed kick to Mohammed's chest, he was thrown to the opposite wall. Alice didn't wait for Mohammed's corpse to get up again, instead she flew up the staircase in escape. Unarmed as she was, there was only so much she could do against an attacker that felt no pain and would never give up his pursuit. With her heart hammering in her ears she threw herself through the door of the first of the sleeping cells. Slamming the door closed behind her, her hands shook uncontrollably as she pulled the st.u.r.dy bolt across. Mohammed had only just reached the top of the stairs and she prayed he hadn't seen which cell she had disappeared into. Without the mental capacity that allowed him to think to search each cell, the Dead Mohammed would walk the full length of the floor and descend the staircase at the opposite end. Alice slumped to the floor with her back to the door, listening for his approaching footsteps. Sure enough, Mohammed's animated corpse simply followed the route it had seen her take and pa.s.sed by her hiding place, clueless of her presence. If he had seen her enter the room, nothing except another victim, would deter the Dead man from getting into the room to feast on her flesh.

As Adrian had backed away terrified, he watched Alice struggling with the obviously now Dead Mohammed, he couldn't help but feel a bit cheated that the Dead had found their way into Lanherne. Everyone always went on about how safe the convent was, and how well they had it here but, as usual, it was all going to go to s.h.i.t, just like everywhere else. He should have stayed on his own, hiding away from both the Dead and the living alike, he knew that now. No one could mess things up if it was just him, *you can't rely on anyone but yourself in this world,' his dad had told him when he was barely twelve years old and Adrian had lived by his dad's advice ever since. A tiny part of him was glad it was Alice being eaten alive. That b.i.t.c.h had shown him up in front of everybody and quite frankly she deserved what she was now getting. Finally, Adrian dragged his eyes away from the fighting couple on the floor and began to walk in the other direction, leaving Alice to her fate. As he walked, a dozen things ran through his mind at once. He had to think clearly he said to himself, he had to find a safe hiding place where they wouldn't find him. He wasn't a fighter, no way could he deal with the newly turned Dead, they were far too fast and agile for him. No, he would find somewhere to hide and wait the three or four hours for them to wind down and then he might just have a chance of escape. Adrian, desperate to find somewhere to hide and on the verge of panic, was now almost running through the many dark corridors of Lanherne. When he placed a foot, unknowingly into a large slippery puddle of blood, blood that up until a few minutes ago had been housed in the body of Sister Margaret, he lost his footing and fell to the floor, hard. With a crack, the side of his head connected with the stone and as the world began to fade away, Adrian's last thought was, *Oh, f.u.c.k!'

Adrian snapped back to consciousness screaming. One of the nuns was leaning over him, b.l.o.o.d.y and unrecognisable. With a tug, she pulled her decimated face upwards and away from his stomach, something wet and b.l.o.o.d.y in her mouth. Horrified, Adrian looked down at his body, instinctively knowing what he was about to see but refusing to believe it. The Dead woman had torn into his body, as he lay p.r.o.ne and unaware. The agony of his flesh being ripped from his body had pulled him back to a reality he would rather not encounter. As unbelievable pain racked though him, he watched, unable to comprehend, that the flesh and pulsing organs the nun greedily stuffed into her mouth, had come from inside his own body. The Dead woman reached into him again and forcibly ripped something vital from him. Through all this, Adrian could hear an unnatural sound of pure terror echoing loudly through the corridor, only when his breath caught in his throat did he realise the sound was his own. Finally with a violent spasm, Adrian's body could take no more of this abuse, and with a spray of blood coughing from his torn lungs, he thankfully died. For a few minutes the Dead woman continued to gorge herself on the warm b.l.o.o.d.y flesh before her. Grabbing handfuls of slippery organs, one after the other, she stuffed them into her mouth in a desperate attempt to satisfy the hunger that burned through her. When her meal suddenly sat up, she no longer recognised it as something desirable. So with bits of flesh hanging from her mouth and fingers, Sister Margaret slowly pulled herself upright and wandered off in search of something else to quench her need.

*Let me just get the gun Justin and then we'll get you cleaned up,' Barry said to Justin who was standing in the gunroom doorway still picking bits of mud from his face and hair.

*It was all Anne's fault, she pulled me over... Bet she did it on purpose too,' Justin said, idly kicking at the doorframe.

*Now it was no one's fault,' Barry said, as he opened the cupboard that housed the convent's weaponry. *If anyone is to blame, it's the rain for making it so slippy.'

Barry removed the handgun that had previously belonged to the corpse of a Dead soldier and began to check the weapon was clean. Even though he knew Charlie was meticulous when it came to keeping their few guns in perfect working order, he liked to check for himself anyway. Satisfied all was as it should be, Barry took down the box of bullets to load the gun. Taking a single bullet out of the box he thumbed the hard cold metal and was instantly taken back to the first time he fired a weapon during his training in the rapid response unit many years ago. Of course, then they only had to deal with drug dealers, potential terrorists and the odd executive having some sort of breakdown. If anyone had told him then he would end up using his training to kill those who were already dead, he would have thought them insane. Barry smiled at the memory of better times, as he pushed the bullet home into its chamber.

*Come on, hurry up Uncle Barry, this mud's a bit itch....' Justin's last word was cut short by a figure covered in blood barrelling into him, knocking him to the ground. Justin screamed in wild terror, as the ruined face of Sister Margaret loomed into view.

*s.h.i.t!' Barry said, shocked by what had happened.

Without thinking Barry ran to the door, stupidly dropping the gun on the table. Grabbing the Dead Sister by her neck and the back of her habit, Barry pulled the slight woman off the terrified Justin before she could bite him. Other memories, a lot less pleasant rushed to fill his mind now. Another child that had been entrusted in his care, a child bitten and unknowingly infected, a child he could not save. Despite the Sister's small stature, she seemed to possess a wild strength alien to her size. The Dead woman now moved with a manic frenzy, waving her arms and kicking her legs to be free, desperate to bite into the small screaming boy at her feet. Realising that another potential meal was holding her back from her prize, the Dead Sister turned her head to snap at the warm fingers gripping her neck, but luckily for Barry, they were just out of reach of her teeth.

*Get the gun Justin! The gun!... Justin!' Barry shouted to the boy staring with wild eyes at the Sister's half eaten face. Justin snapped out of the paralysing terror by his adopted uncle's shouts, ducked under the flailing arms of the Dead nun and scampered into the gun room. Gently picking up the gun he ran back to Barry, eager for this nightmare to be over. As Barry readied himself to throw the Dead nun aside so he could grab the gun Justin was holding out to him, his handhold on her b.l.o.o.d.y neck fractionally slipped. Although his fingers barely moved at all, the small movement was enough to end his life. At that precise moment Sister Margaret was craning her head towards him, her mouth open and desperate to chew something warm and b.l.o.o.d.y. The moment his fingers moved, the whole world stopped for Barry. All he could see was the Dead woman's b.l.o.o.d.y teeth closing down on the tip of his index finger and then with a spasm of pain, they bit sharply through his flesh and fingernail.

*f.u.c.k!' he screamed and threw the nun to the wall with such force he heard her bones breaking in some part of her body. Barry grabbed the gun from Justin's small shaking hand, aimed and fired. A b.l.o.o.d.y hole appeared in the back of Sister Margaret's head and a spray of dark blood, bone and brain matter splattered up the wall. Instantly the unnatural life that had taken over her corpse, fled and the body of Sister Margaret slumped to the floor.

*f.u.c.k! f.u.c.k! f.u.c.k!' Barry yelled, knowing his time on this earth had come to an end. With tears running down his face, Barry knelt down and pulled the crying Justin to him. In his mind he was once again holding his small nephew and as he pulled Justin tighter to him, he hoped he had somehow made amends for letting his nephew down.

*Now, I'm going to get you somewhere safe first, I promise,' Barry said, wiping his tears away on the back of his sleeve.

*No, don't leave me Uncle Barry, please,' Justin cried holding on tighter as Barry stood to retrieve the rest of the ammunition box.

*You know I have to go, Justin,' Barry said, looking into Justin's tear filled eyes, *I won't put anyone else in danger.'

Justin cried in silence, as his Uncle loaded the chambers of the gun with shaky hands. Twice Barry's fingers refused to do what he wanted and the bullets fell from his grasp to fall to the floor. Once Barry was satisfied the gun was now fully loaded, he kissed Justin on the forehead gently and taking him by the hand, led him from the room, into the hall and pa.s.sed Sister Margaret's still body.

Mohammed's corpse walked through corridor after corridor, the wretched agony inside him still burning to feed. His milky film covered eyes, scanned back and forth for the object of his desire but his search seemed fruitless. Then a crashing sound suddenly a.s.saulted his Dead ears, sprinting down the hallway, he pa.s.sed numerous closed doorways until Mohammed finally skidded to a halt outside an open door. Kneeling down on the floor, picking the scattered shards of a broken bowl, Michael didn't notice the figure standing behind him until it was too late.

*Hey,' Michael said, turning towards Mohammed.

The smile instantly dropped from his lips, when he saw what was standing in his doorway. His hand instinctively reached for the crowbar resting on his bed but then, faster than he thought possible, Mohammed threw himself at Michael. The intention to tear into him with his teeth, was obvious. Michael swung the crowbar at the fast approaching Dead man but his angle was off and rather than dealing the Dead creature a killing blow, the bar hit its already ravaged neck. With a sickening crack, Mohammed's head was knocked to one side, his neck vertebrae cracking and no longer supporting his skull. Before Michael could draw back his arm to swing again, Mohammed was on him. Gripping the arm that held the bar with both of his Dead hands, the cadaver darted forward and latched on with its teeth. Oblivious to Michael's screams, it would not let go until its teeth clicked together again, taking a large chunk of Michael's arm with it. With a major vein severed in his arm, his blood was already flowing freely, but Michael still struggled to remove his arm from the Dead man's grip, although he knew the worst had already been done. He was now soon to be one of Dead and if he was lucky he had three or four hours left. Those few hours would be filled with excruciating pain, as whatever turned him into one of the Dead, burned through his body. Finally when his body could take it now more, his heart would give out and he would no longer be the Michael anyone knew. It was more than likely though, that he would die of blood loss before that and Michael knew it. He thought of his wife, the terrified look on her face when the sea of Dead hands had pulled her away from him, preventing her escape from the cruise liner. For what had he dragged out this inevitable ending to his life? He wondered if perhaps it would have been better had he just got back onto the liner to be with her all those years ago, at least then they wouldn't have died alone. Mohammed lunged for him again, this time aiming for his exposed neck. The two men, one Dead and one soon to be, fought with each other but only one knew what the outcome would be and was terrified. Mohammed managed to clamp his teeth tightly on Michael's neck and again a strip of flesh was torn away by a hungry Dead mouth. The crowbar still clenched in Michael's fist seemed to be getting heavier and heavier with each pa.s.sing second, as the strength in his arm seemed to disappear. With his head spinning from blood loss and realising he would not be unable to fight off his attacker for much longer, Michael was determined he would not increase the count of the Dead walking Lanherne corridors. There may be two Dead men in this room but only one was walking out of it. Transferring the crowbar to his other hand, Michael managed to muster up enough strength to ram the bar through the gaping hole in Mohammed's throat, forcing it right through the back of his neck. By now Mohammed had started ripping strips of flesh from his wounded arm with his bloodied fingers and stuffing them in his mouth greedily. Already, Michael could see his elbow and part of the bones in his forearms but as his body went into shock he only viewed this scene with a sense of annoyance. As his vision began to swim before him, Michael knew it was now or never. Grabbing the crowbar with his remaining working hand he twisted it sharply to the left, then back to the right again, the sound of tearing flesh and crushing cartilage, drowned out by his angry primal scream. All the while the Dead Mohammed paid no heed to this attack. No sense of self-preservation flickered within his dead brain, only the need to consume. Feeling the last of his strength leaving him for ever, Michael pushed the bar one last time. This time he kept on pushing in and as the last of the flesh supporting the head tore free, Mohammed's head fell to the floor with a dull thud. Instantly the decapitated body collapsed on top of Michael and while he pa.s.sed into an unconsciousness he knew he would never wake up from, he consoled himself with the knowledge that at least Mohammed's corpse would not be killing anyone else. With his last thoughts pa.s.sing through his head, he prayed someone would find him soon before he had a chance to hurt anyone and if they didn't, he prayed they would forgive him for what he was about to do.

For the next three minutes, Mohammed's detached head rocked slowly back and forth as it chewed its last mouthful of Michaels flesh. Then it watched with uninterested eyes as the meal that up until recently been a forty-nine year old ex-warehouse manager called Michael, reanimated as one of the Dead, and slowly walked out of the door with a look of hunger on its face.

Barry pulled the shocked Justin closely behind, already the pain in his arm had increased from a strange throbbing ache to an unbearable burning sensation. Their pace was incredibly slow because Barry didn't want to put Justin in danger of being found by any of the Dead but that also meant his time was running out. For some, they didn't get the luxury of three hours before they died, something in their body chemistry speeded up the process tenfold. From the searing pains shooting through his body, Barry knew he was one of the unlucky ones, or lucky depending on how you looked at it. He had decided he would get Justin to one of the sleeping cells, make sure he was locked in and stand guard for as long as he could bear the pain, which he didn't think would be long. Reaching the corridor where they all had their rooms, Barry tried the first door, but it was locked from the inside. At least someone was safe, for now. Inside the room Alice watched the handle turn, knowing she should open the door to let whoever it was in, but unarmed as she was, she couldn't take the chance of letting in someone who had been bitten. Barry moved onto the next door and found this one open.

*Right, you go inside and lock the door,' he told Justin, trying to sound authoritative to cover his fear.

*No, please Uncle Barry, please,' Justin begged, tears dropping from his eyes again as he clung to Barry.

*You have to Justin, I've got to keep you safe. Please don't make this any harder for me,' Barry replied, his own tears mirroring Justin's.

With one last hug, Barry gently manoeuvred Justin into the room. As he was closing the door he knelt down to look the terrified boy in the eyes.

*Tell your Mum and Dad I'm sorry, and that I love you all very much.'

Slowly the door closed.

*Now draw the bolt across Justin, come on, please, I must know you're safe.'

Listening, he heard the small boy pull the bolt in place and slump to the floor in tears. Sitting down Barry held the gun in his lap, ready for the time when he would take his own life.

*They know you love them Barry,' Alice said, quietly through her door, choking back her own tears.

Obviously Barry had been bitten and was using his last moments to make sure Justin was out of danger.

*Alice?' Barry said in a whisper, a wave of burning pain shooting through his body *Yes Barry, I'm here. You're not alone,' she replied, laying her hand on the smooth wooden door, as if she was giving him a comforting touch.

*Don't know how much longer I can cope with this pain, Alice. It's like hot knives pushing into me' Barry said, breaking off to cough, blood now flecking his lips.

*What are you going to do Barry?' Alice asked knowing it was difficult to kill yourself without coming back as one of the Dead. *Barry?'

*Goodbye Alice. Don't let Justin see me like this, please,' Barry said, as he placed the gun barrel under his chin and with a silent prayer to a G.o.d he doubted was listening, he pulled the trigger.

*Oh, Barry...' Alice whispered, with tears running down her face, as the single gunshot echoed through the corridor.

Imran had heard the horrific screams and even the sound of a single gunshot, as he made his way to the Chapel, but he had failed to come across anyone else yet. With his bow all but useless for close contact encounters, he now had a hunting knife ready in each hand, should he encounter any of his friends as newly Dead. Putting his ear to the heavily carved Chapel door, he listened for any movement. Hearing nothing, he gingerly pushed the door open. For the briefest of moments he thought he heard a foot sc.r.a.ping along stonework but, as he scanned the room from the doorway, it appeared empty. Crouching low, he stepped carefully into the room. With a dull click the door closed behind him. Keeping to the thin faded carpet that ran down the central aisle, he checked down each pew for anything amiss. As he reached half way to the communion rail he heard the definite sound of someone's shaky breathing. Unable to pinpoint the origin of the sound, he was left with no option but to speak out and just hope whoever it was hadn't been bitten.

*h.e.l.lo?...' he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. *h.e.l.lo, is someone there?'

Suddenly there was the smallest of movement coming from one of the two confessional cubicles. Each had their dusty red velvet curtains closed and as Imran watched, first one foot came into view and then the other. Whoever had been hiding inside had obviously pulled their legs up onto the seat in an attempt to avoid detection. A shaky set of fingers carefully pulled aside the curtain to reveal a scared looking Nadine holding a heavy looking candlestick to her chest.

*Oh, Imran!' she said a look of relief on her face .*The Dead are inside aren't they? People are dying, I heard the screams.'

*Yes, I heard them too. Is there anyone else in here with you?' he asked hoping someone else was hiding.

*No, it was empty when I came in,' she replied, but even as she finished saying the words Sister Josephine's head appeared over the small balcony above them.

*I'm here too Imran,' she said *I've barricaded the only door, give me a minute and I'll come down.'

As Sister Josephine disappeared from view, they could hear her coming down the narrow creaking staircase that led up to the small storage area. Standing guard, Imran could hear Sister Josephine moving whatever she had used to block the door. In a few moments the small wooden door opened inwards to reveal a flushed Sister Josephine.

*So what do we do now?' Nadine asked, looking to Imran, a look of desperate panic in her eyes.

*Right, I think you two should stay here until the situation has been dealt with,' Imran said, taking charge of the two women much older than himself. *As we can't lock the main chapel door from the inside, I think Sister Josephine had the right idea. The storage room seems perfect.'

*Only perfect if you can put down all of the Dead,' Nadine said, looking up at the small balcony, *otherwise it's a death trap with no escape route.'

*Well, it's the best option we've got at the moment and as you're not fighters I can't take you with me, so we don't have much choice I'm afraid,' Imran said, ushering the two woman back inside. *I'll come and get you when it's all over but until then stay quiet.'

*May your G.o.d go with you Imran,' Sister Josephine said, solemnly as the door closed on the two scared women.

Imran listened to the two women replacing the barricade and when they were satisfied, he heard them climb up the creaking narrow stairs up to the tiny windowless room above.

*Good luck,' Nadine whispered down to him, her head popping over the edge of the balcony rail.

With a nod, Imran made his way quickly back to the Chapel door. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the door open and stepped through. He had decided to make his way through to the other side of Convent and on to the kitchen. There should be at least a few people there at this time of day and he hoped they had managed to find some sort of hiding place for themselves too. Somewhere ahead of him, Imran heard a second gunshot ring out.

Alice had her ear pressed tightly against the cell door, listening for any movement in the hall. She knew she needed to leave the room to see if the gun Barry had used to kill himself had been loaded with more bullets. With both her knife and metal bat gone, she was in desperate need of a weapon if she was going to be of any use to anyone. She was just about to open her door for a look when she heard the tell-tale moan of one of Dead coming down the hallway. Immediately in the cell next to hers Justin's soft crying stopped. As upset as he was about his adopted uncle's death, he knew if one of the Dead heard him inside the room, he would be in real trouble. Before he had joined the caravan that eventually ended up at Lanherne, Justin had spent months on his own avoiding the living and Dead alike, so he knew what he had to do to survive. The body that had once been Adrian barely paused as it walked pa.s.sed the truly dead form of Barry lying crumpled on the floor, something inside it saying this was not what he needed to satisfy his burning need. Seeing nothing of interest here, the Dead Adrian continued down the staircase on its abominable quest for living flesh.

Once Alice was sure the coast was clear, she opened her door just a crack. Looking out, she could see Barry's body slumped across Justin's door, even in death determined to protect the boy. Stepping gingerly into the hall she bent down to retrieve the gun held loosely in Barry's dead hand. It was then that she noticed the wounded finger that had ended the selfless man's life. It was such a small injury but it had proved fatal, whatever caused the Dead to walk had raced through his body faster than most. She carefully checked the chambers of the gun and was relieved to see it was full apart from the one Barry had used on himself. Honouring the dead man's last request Alice grabbed his body by the ankles and with some effort managed to pull his corpse into her cell. She may be able to spare Justin from seeing the body but there was nothing she could do at the moment about the mess of blood and skull fragments that had been sprayed up the wall as the bullet had pa.s.sed through Barry's brain. Closing her cell door, to hide Barry's body from view, Alice tapped gently on Justin's door.

*Stay tight Justin, I'll come and get you when it's safe. I promise, OK?'

*OK.' Justin said, in such a sad little voice, it tore at Alice's heart to leave him here alone but she knew it was the right thing to do.