Six Days With The Dead Part 19

*This man is crazy,' Anne thought to herself, as the Reverend gripped her face with his long firm fingers.

*But by the timing of your birth, you have been given a chance,' he continued, his eyes wild with religious fervour. *You are free of this sin, free to gaze upon the Lord in wonder and awe, while your heart still beats within you. And the Lord will gaze back upon you to judge your worth... and again He will whisper... oh, He will whisper...' The Reverend let go of her face and began tapping his lips with his fingers excitedly, as if he had a great secret to tell.

*Oh yes, He will whisper to Ruth of such things, that the heavens themselves will hold their breath to hear His judgement upon you.'

Anne simply stared up at her lunatic kidnapper, her eyes wide with fear, afraid to say anything in case it was somehow interpreted the wrong way in this madman's mind. As quickly as it had begun, the Reverend lost interest in Anne and turned back to his wife, a look of reverence on his face as he watched her. Whatever was going to happen, it was now obvious that Ruth was the lynch pin. Ruth, despite her small stature and quiet demeanour, was the one in charge here. She was the one who merely used her husband as an instrument to help make possible her twisted dreams.

As they travelled in silence, Anne could hear a strange humming sound, rising and falling in waves. Curious as to what could be making the noise she wriggled into a seated position and craned her neck forward so she could look out of the front view slit. The road ahead looked much like any other in the Cornish countryside. Like everywhere else, over hanging trees and wild brambles spilled unchecked across a cracked and potholed road surface. Not seeing anything that could explain the noise, she was about to lean back when a telegraph pole came into view. What she saw made her breath catch in her throat. There, suspended barely two meters up the pole, hanging by his arms, was a Dead man. His Dead hands had been crudely manacled together, the chain between them looped over a hook driven into the post. The corpse was severely weather beaten and a yellow green mould bloomed over much of his naked torso. Apart from the mould, the Dead man did not seem to show any obvious injuries, none that could have killed him anyway. It wasn't until they got closer that Anne could see his legs. Each of his limbs had been stripped of their flesh below the knee, the exposed bones barely hanging on to the legs by the last shreds of dried and withered flesh. Why anyone would leave a Dead man hanging like that was beyond Anne. It seemed a totally pointless exercise. If it was to prevent the Dead from attacking them, surely putting them down permanently would be safer. Eventually the mouldy skin on their wrists would tear and he would fall to the ground, making him a problem to be dealt with again. As the cart came alongside the hanging corpse, it briefly had the perfect sight line to see through the front view slit at Ruth. It was then that the Dead man pathetically craned its head forward, desperate to reach the living within the cart, a brittle low moan escaping its split and ruined lips. With the cart pulling away, the sound of the Dead man began to fade. Up ahead Anne saw another pole coming into view, again a living corpse hung by its wrists, its lower legs stripped of flesh. Just like the previous one, this one could also catch a tantalising glimpse of the living as they pa.s.sed and let out a low moan of hunger, mirroring its Dead brother down the road. It was then that Anne realised the sound she had heard was the rise and fall of the moaning Dead as they pa.s.sed each pole. Who had done this and why, Anne could not fathom but trapped in the cart with her two crazy kidnappers, it didn't bode well.

*Almost there, little one,' the Reverend said turning back to look at her. *Your time among the d.a.m.ned is almost at an end.'

Anne shrank back from his gaze, afraid of the madness that danced in his dark eyes. Desperate to look at anything apart from the Reverend, Anne focused her attention on the small still form of the baby. Obviously the drug they had given her was taking a lot longer to work its way through the tiny infant's body. Anne wondered if the baby was hungry, it certainly hadn't been fed in a while and one thing she knew about babies is that they like to be fed a lot.

*Is the baby alright?' Anne asked, looking at its cheeks still flushed. She hoped it was just the drug and it hadn't developed a fever.

With little care for the infants comfort, the Reverend lifted the still sleeping baby up to take a closer look. Anne could tell this was a man not used to handling young children. He moved the child in his hands clumsily, turning it this way and that, looking at its face the way someone inspects an alien object.

*Ruth?' he finally said, thrusting the baby in her field of vision, hoping she would know better.

Ruth, pulled the horse to a stop and took the quiet baby from her husband. Feeling its forehead with the back of her hand and lifting one of its tiny eyelids to look at its eyes, Ruth quickly fell back on her nurse training.

*Water down some of the goat's milk they gave us and try to get him to swallow a little for now,' she said, handing the child back to her husband. *He's running a temperature and probably dehydrated. He'll be the first to be judged. If the Lord deems his soul worthy we'll give him to Charlotte to wet nurse, that should help, but it is in the hands of our Lord.'

*His will be done,' the Reverend nodded and once he had found a battered looking baby's bottle, began to follow his wife's instruction.

From what she could see, the baby wasn't too keen on the watered-down goat's milk. The first few attempts of feeding either went completely ignored or were vomited up moments later. As young as she was, Anne had seen a few people die of fever and she knew not being able to get enough liquid inside them was not a good sign.

The constant rise and fall of the moaning dead continued to follow them. At some point Anne realised the motion and angle of the cart had changed slightly. From the crunching sound the wheels made as they moved, she thought they must have pulled off of the normal road and were now on some sort of gravel covered side-road. Also, the way items hanging from the carts ceiling now hung at an angle, told her they were now travelling down hill. After another five minutes, the soft moaning of the Dead, which had become nothing more than a macabre background sound, was replaced with a more eager and constant call of the Dead. Anne did not need to look outside to know that this was the sound a pack of the Dead made when they could see the living flesh but couldn't get to it. Unbelievably, this was the moment Ruth decided to stop the cart.

*We can't stop here,' Anne said, knowing Dead hands would start clambering at the cart sides any second *the Dead! There must be a dozen of them out there. We can't stop!'

*Have a little faith, child,' Ruth said turning towards her, her cold blue eyes boring into her. Then with the briefest glance to the Reverend, *get out Nathan... someone has been very slack on watch, they haven't noticed us yet.'

*Yes Ruth,' the Reverend replied, dumping the baby in Anne's lap, before nonchalantly pushing open the side hatch to climb out.

Anne cowered back from the open doorway, expecting to be torn to pieces by the Dead she could hear outside. But nothing happened. She could see the back of the Reverend walking away from the cart, up to a wide high metal gate.

*Hey Marcello!' the Reverend called to someone beyond her field of vision. *Open the gate! We have returned! Marcello!'

As Anne watched, she saw a small dark haired man with a close cropped beard, come running up to open the gate. From his looks he was obviously foreign, though from where Anne couldn't tell. She had met an Italian family once. They had lived together in the same compound a few years ago. She couldn't really remember much about them apart from that they were nice to her. But it hadn't ended well there and she was sure only the mother had escaped alive.

*My apologies Reverend,' the man called Marcello said his accent making the way he p.r.o.nounced the words dance up and down. He was obviously nervous around Nathan. *I was helping Daniel and Sonya pray with the children. During the prayers the Holy Spirit descended upon Sonya and she spoke with the tongues of angels. Daniel needed me to help hold her down, so she would not harm herself.'

*Excuses are for the Devil!' the Reverend snapped and back handed Marcello across the face, knocking him to the floor. *You should have been on guard for Ruth's return, not pandering to that harlot Sonya.'

Marcello, jumped to his feet, apparently no worse the wear for being struck and pulled the gate wide open so Ruth could drive the horse and cart through. Obviously being struck was an everyday occurrence here, or perhaps Marcello was so afraid of Nathan, that he just took whatever the Reverend doled out without complaint.

Now that she knew there was no danger from the Dead, Anne leant forward out of the hatch as the cart pulled through the gate. The compound was roughly the size of the area behind Lanherne's walls, and like Lanherne, every available spot had been given over to vegetable production. A few scraggy looking hens pecked hungrily among the plants, following a very pale looking middle aged man with long lank hair, as he worked at the earth with a hoe. Along the far side of the compound rose a sheer cliff face of dark rock, and looking up, Anne wondered if any of the Dead ever plummeted down, to land broken and shattered within the confines of the garden. On its other three sides, the area was enclosed by a high chain link fence, topped with barbed wire. Anne didn't think it looked very st.u.r.dy and certainly wouldn't hold out the Dead for very long if they attacked on ma.s.s. Perhaps the Dead were thin on the ground here, she thought to herself, she certainly hoped so. Perversely, positioned at equal distances from each other were seven more moaning Dead attached to poles. These poles, thankfully had been sunk deep into the ground on the outside of the fence, so even if they escaped their bonds they wouldn't be inside the compound. Unlike the corpses she had seen on the road, these Dead were bound tightly to their posts about the waist, allowing them to twist their torso's round just enough to get excited while they glimpsed the living flesh working behind them. Anne didn't understand how the people living here could cope with the constant moaning of the Dead men and woman, as they strained to get to the flesh they knew was just behind them, already the sound was starting to get under her skin.

As the cart came level with the man Nathan had called Marcello, Anne saw that he had fallen to his knees, waiting with his head bowed and eyes downcast for the cart to pa.s.s him by. Looking at the man on his knees, Anne noticed that his wrists had been terribly injured at some time, leaving them both heavily scared. As soon as the cart was through the gate, Marcello jumped to his feet and began to chain the gates together again. Looking about the compound, Anne realised there didn't seem to be any buildings for them to live in. It wasn't until she saw the small path leading to an overhang in the rock, that the gated cave entrance became apparent. The entrance, two meters wide and just a bit taller than an average man, had old looking iron bars cemented into the rock through which she could see the flickering of smoky torches lighting the cave. Ruth pulled the cart to a stop and turned to Anne.

*Pa.s.s me the infant,' she said, holding her arms out to Anne.

Barely glancing at the baby now in her arms, Ruth jumped down from the cart and walked briskly over to Marcello. Again, Marcello fell to one knee. Looking down her nose at the man before her, her obvious contempt bubbling under the surface, Ruth held out her hand which he kissed reverently.

*This one will be judged shortly, gather the others by the lake,' she said, before turning on her heels, not waiting for a reply. It was clear to Anne this was a woman who expected others to do as she told them without question. *Oh, and take the girl inside. She will wait for her time on the island.'

*Yes, Ruth,' Marcello said, keeping his eyes lowered as he rose to stand.

Ruth marched off with Nathan briskly walking two steps behind her, and they both disappeared into the cave.

*Come on,' Marcello said, reaching up to help her down, *and don't try to run, there's nowhere to go. Child, you should fall to your knees and thank the Lord, Ruth found you. You are one of the untainted and after G.o.d tells Ruth of His judgement, you will truly be one of the chosen.'

Anne still reluctant to leave the cart, glanced at the scars on Marcello's extended wrist.

*What happened to you?' she said, pointlessly delaying the inevitable.

*You are not the only ones to be tested,' Marcello, replied stroking one of his wrists tenderly, *the acolytes must also prove they have been judged worthy to serve Ruth. Many fail, their hidden sins d.a.m.ning them for eternity.'

The briefest of glances past the gate told Anne what he meant. The Dead, manacled to the poles along the road, were those who had failed their test, paying the ultimate price for their failure. If Anne needed any further proof these people were crazy, she had it now. These people had been strung up willingly for the Dead to feast on their lower limbs. Judgement didn't come into it, even Anne knew it would be pure luck that the Dead didn't wander past while you hung there helpless.

Not wanting to keep Ruth waiting, Marcello got fed up of Anne just sitting there, so he forcibly pulled her from the cart by her arm.

*Do not try to talk to the chosen ones,' he said, looking down at her as they made their way along the path, *you are unworthy in their presence. Just keep quiet and do as you are told.'

Pa.s.sing through the iron gates, Anne looked about the cave in wonder. If her whole situation hadn't been so terrible, she would have thought the cave to be a beautiful and magical place, as it was she could only see the darkness hidden beneath. High above her the hanging rock formations glinted and sparkled, light from the flickering torches catching on their crystal deposits. But Anne could not appreciate their natural beauty and saw only the ominous shadows that moved and danced above her. The cavern had rows of burning torches placed along its uneven walls and although they gave adequate light to manoeuvre by, they still left large areas deep in shadow, not to mention the heavy smoke that drifted about on the cold damp air. Behind her the man, who had been gardening, was bringing in the dilapidated horse to an equally decrepit looking stable on her right. That would explain the almost sweet decaying odour she could smell hiding under the smoke, she thought to herself. They obviously didn't clean out the stable very often and old manure had become dry and compacted where the horse was tethered. To her left were rows of stone slabs, once used as tables and chairs by customers of the cafe. The cafe was a side chamber that had been literally carved out of the rock, its dusty and smoke smeared sign, the only indication of its former use. Now the room had been turned into some sort of dormitory, where the occupants of the cavern slept. Anne could see a woman cooking over a fire pit in front of counter. She was in her forties Anne guessed, heavy set, black skinned and her hair was wild and already greying. When the woman looked up, she smiled at Anne with a look that teetered on the edge of madness. Anne took a small involuntary step backwards, seeking safety in the relative sanity of Marcello.

*Hey, Charlotte,' Marcello called to the woman cooking *Ruth says there's to be a judging shortly, we're all to go the lake.'

Nodding, the woman called Charlotte stopped what she doing, wiped her hands on her full skirt and walked towards another side chamber, this one had a dirty sign saying *Carnglaze Gift Shop' hanging at an odd angle.

*I'll tell Sonya and Adam, they're with the chosen,' she called to Marcello, her eyes briefly darting towards Anne again before disappearing from view inside.

At the far end of the cavern was a wide crystal clear lake, its colour was that of the morning sky in summer. Reflected light moved constantly across the cavern walls, as water from the cavern roof dripped into the lake, causing ripples to spread and collide with each other. At the far side of the lake, the rock floor rose up from the water to join the back wall, creating a small rocky island. Anne could see there was an ominous looking tunnel at the base of the wall, leading through to another dark chamber. Moored at the edge of the lake were two small rowing boats, and as Anne struggled to take in her surroundings, Nathan and Ruth, with the baby in one arm and a torch in the other, began to row across to the island. With a creaking sound and the gentle splash of water, the wooden oars rhythmically rose and fell in the water and soon the Reverend had almost made his way to the far side of the lake.

Marcello roughly nudged Anne forward, and she realised that even though she may be about to become one of their chosen, apparently it didn't mean she was going to get treated any better. As they walked past the gift shop, the black woman who Marcello had called Charlotte appeared through the doorway, trailing two small pale looking children behind her. Close on her heals came a tall man and another woman, each holding the hands of two small children. The new woman, who Anne took to be Sonya, was small with long thick curly black hair that grew to her waist. She would have been pretty had it not been for her wild staring eyes. Even from this distance Anne could tell this woman had something wrong with her. She gave off a feeling of a barely restrained mania and looked as though she could be dangerous if you got on her wrong side. She was wearing a dirty knotted headscarf, which did little to control her thick mane and a simple knee length smock type dress. Around her neck hung a large wooden crucifix, which swung from side to side as she walked. For such a small woman, Sonya had a chest quite out of proportion to her body, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s looked far too large for her frame and Anne wondered if that was why the Reverend called her a harlot. She remembered religious people were funny about that sort of thing. Like Marcello, she too had scarring around both her wrists, a testament to surviving her trial on the pole. When Anne looked closer at the two children Sonya pulled along with her, she almost stopped in her tracks. In Sonya's left hand was a sad looking girl, her face drawn, with dark circles under her frightened little eyes. But it was the boy being pulled in Sonya's right hand that had caught Anne's attention. She had only met him once before, but she was sure the scared little boy, his eyes red from crying was Alex Penhaligan. At that moment, Alex looked up and their eyes met. As his eyes widened in surprise, Anne gave her head the smallest shake. For some reason she could not explain, she did not want the adults to know they knew each other. Luckily, Alex understood her meaning and lowered his eyes to the floor again.

The man with Sonya, who must have been Adam, was average looking, his height being the only thing to distinguish him. Being even taller than the Reverend, his long gangly limbs would have made a veritable feast for the Dead if they had found him hanging on the pole but he too wore his scars of survival with pride. In his late forties, his thin sandy hair was patchy in places and grimy looking stubble covered his chin. Adam loped rather than walked towards them, an intense look on his face. The two children following behind him, tripped over themselves to keep up with his wide strides.

*Another of the blessed?' Adam said, bending forwards to inspect Anne close up. Like the Reverend, his eyes bore into Anne with an intensity that unnerved her. It was as if he could look through her eyes, straight to her soul and inspect it for sinful imperfections.

*She is to be judged later,' Marcello said, urging Anne to carry on walking, *Ruth and Nathan are to judge an infant first. We are all to go to the lake and keep vigil.'

When they got to the lake, Marcello told her to get into the small tethered row boat. Gingerly she placed one foot in and once the rocking had subsided, she finally managed to clamber aboard. Turning so she sat facing the sh.o.r.e, Anne watched the other members of this insane community line up for their vigil. Charlotte, Sonya and Adam were soon joined on the rocky sh.o.r.e by the gardener she had seen earlier and another man. Six stolen children were positioned in front of them and told to kneel. Tearful and obviously afraid, they did as they were told. Then as if on some unspoken signal, all five of the adults fell to their knees and began to pray. With their palms raised to the heavens and the scars on their wrists a sign of their obedience to their G.o.d or, perhaps more importantly, to Ruth, the acolytes swayed back and forth, giving themselves over to their trance like devotion. With a glance to his fellow acolytes, Marcello joined Anne in the boat and taking the wooden oars in his hands, began to row them across the lake to the island. When they were almost across, Anne looked past Marcello, and caught Alex's gaze. He looked over the expanse of deep water to her, his large blue eyes were filled with heavy tears that threatened to spill over and at that moment a chill of realisation went through Anne. Alex was not crying for himself or the situation he was in, but for her. Whatever she was about to go through had suddenly become more terrifying and as the boat began to sc.r.a.pe along the rising stone sh.o.r.e of the island, she knew it was too late to do anything about it. Anne's fate lay somewhere in the cavern beyond the dark tunnel and already the sounds of the Dead echoing through the darkness, had turned her insides to ice.

*Come,' Marcello said, jumping from the boat.

Walking ankle deep in the cold water, he went to the front of the boat and began to pull it ash.o.r.e, ready for their return journey. Once he was satisfied the boat wouldn't drift off, he grabbed Anne's hand and pulled her over the rocky sh.o.r.e towards the tunnel. Even as they approached the tunnel entrance, Anne could smell the dry, rotting smell of the Dead, and she tried to pull away from Marcello, desperate not to enter the chamber beyond.

*You will be one of the chosen, rejoice,' he said, yanking her arm as they were swallowed by the darkness.

*But what if I'm not chosen,' Anne whispered to herself.

Anne had been pulled through the darkness for what seemed like forever, but in reality was less than a minute, when thankfully she began to see the faint dancing light coming from around the next corner. The smell of the Dead was becoming unbearable now, making Anne gag uncontrollably and from the sound they were making, she knew the Dead were already in arm's reach of something they wanted to eat. Turning the corner, what little hope Anne had left evaporated with a scream. There, in the centre of the torch lit chamber, was a stone pit in the floor, inside which, clamoured a dozen Dead children in various states of decay. Standing by the lip of the pit next to a wooden post, was Ruth. With her eyes closed, she lost herself to her twisted devotion while she held aloft the still infant in her arms. Sensing their arrival, Ruth slowly opened her eyes.

*Manacle her to the post,' she said to Marcello, indicating the post to her left.

*Yes Ruth,' Marcello said, pulling Anne around the pit to the post.

Pushing herself away as far as she could, Anne looked down at the dozen hungry Dead faces that reached, black and decaying hands, desperately up to her while Marcello roughly manacled her to the post. Anne knew instinctively that Ruth had murdered these children. She had stolen them away from those they loved, leaving nothing but death and the Dead in her wake and brought them here terrified and alone. All of them were her age or younger and had been brought here to be killed purely because of that.

*You may go now, Marcello,' Ruth said, ignoring him the moment she spoke, to lose herself again in her whispered prayers.

Silently Marcello left the chamber, leaving Anne to her fate, without so much as a second glance. It was then that Anne noticed the Reverend sitting silently on his knees, holding a battered bible to his chest. From the look on his face, Anne thought he considered the book to be the most important thing in the world. But then he opened his eyes and his gaze fell upon Ruth. No, this murderess, this woman who hid her perverse desires behind a G.o.d's will, she was the centre of his universe. Suddenly, Ruth stopped praying and with a nod she met her husband's gaze.

Taking a deep breath the Reverend gently placed the bible down on the uneven rock floor. Using only the tips of his finger, as if he were touching some delicate blossom, he ran his finger along the edge of the pages. His eyes never left Ruth's stare and when she again nodded, his hand stopped immediately. With an uncharacteristic gentleness the Reverend looked down at the bible in front of him and opened it at this chosen point. Again his finger began to move slowly about the page, until with a second nod from Ruth, he stopped. Leaning forward the Reverend read the words where his finger had stopped.

*And Jesus said unto them, Render to Caesar the things that are Caesars and to G.o.d the things that are G.o.d's,' he whispered in voice full of wonder, as he looked up at his wife.

Upon hearing the bible verse that had been so divinely selected, Ruth slowly closed her eyes. As Anne and the Reverend watched, Ruth turned her head this way and that, her brow creasing with concentration, as if she was listening intently to the heavenly whispers that lurked deep within her madness. Then as if everything had suddenly become clear, she opened her clear blue eyes, the reflected torch light, adding demonic flames to their depths and spoke.

*Praise the Lord our G.o.d, he has spoken to this unworthy vessel and told me what lurks within that what cannot be seen. He has told me of the stain of Man upon this infant's soul. Unworthy of the life our Lord had bestowed upon him, he shall be d.a.m.ned for all eternity, to exist yet not live, to feed but not nourish, to be consumed forever with a hunger that only the denied solace of G.o.d may quench.'

Anne began to shake her head back and forth, she had a horrible idea where this was going and despite desperately not wanting to watch, she was unable to tear her eyes away. Terror had denied her the ability to turn her head away from what she knew was about to happen.

*This child is d.a.m.ned!' Ruth said.

Without a moments thought, Ruth dropped the baby to the hungry Dead children below her. The tiny body was pounced upon immediately and disappeared in a ma.s.s of reaching Dead arms. Thankfully, before it could let out a single strangled cry, the Dead children tore the poor infant to pieces and greedily began to stuff baby sized limbs and entrails into their mouths. Anne let out a scream born of pure terror and disbelief. She desperately tried to block out the nightmarish b.e.s.t.i.a.l sounds coming from the pit, as the Dead children fed on the body of Emma O'Brien's baby. Within minutes, all that was left of the doomed infant was the small crochet blanket it had been wrapped in, which Ruth folded in her arms and tossed to Anne as she walked past her.

*We will be back later for your judgement. I suggest you pray to G.o.d, begging for forgiveness of your sins,' Ruth said, reaching for the torch on the wall.

Crouching as far from the pit as she could, Anne pulled the small blanket to her chest and wept. She wept for Mrs...o...b..ien's unnamed baby, whose life was taken before it had barely had a chance to begin. She wept for the children in the pit whose lives had been so pointlessly s.n.a.t.c.hed away from them, and then as Ruth and her husband walked back through the tunnel to the lake, leaving her in total blackness, she wept for herself.

After an hour on the road, Liz, Imran, Charlie and Alice had pa.s.sed through the village of St Mawgan without encountering any of the Dead. They had bypa.s.sed their usual visit to Jackson, wanting to get far as they could without stopping. Knowing their route would mean they would be leaving charted territory within another few hours, they needed to make good time while they could. There would be enough troubles ahead of them to delay their journey, without adding another one needlessly.

*There must be another way round it,' Liz said, examining the map for the tenth time since they left Lanherne. *I know they think they have some sort of Divine protection but the Reverend doesn't strike me the type to drive though a red zone if he didn't have to.'

When Lars had initially shown them the route they would need to take to reach the Carnglaze Caverns, much had been debated about the red-zone already marked on the map that they would need to travel through. The most direct route to the caverns would either take them along the A30 motorway or at least across it and they didn't need the shaded red area on the map to tell them this area would be swamped by the Dead.

*Well, we'll be moving into unknown territory,' Charlie said, guiding Delilah into a turning off the main road. *Had we known there was an outpost in this direction, we may have come this way more often. Let's just hope the motorway is the only obstacle we've got to deal with. I don't think we've got the time to waste, doubling back on ourselves, if we choose the wrong route.'

Liz was sure there had to be a way to the caverns that skirted around the many blocked roads and hot spots. The Reverend and Ruth wouldn't go to all the trouble of kidnapping children, for them only to not be able to get back to their home safely.

*There had to be a way,' she thought to herself, as she once again scrutinised the map, hoping the route would somehow magically jump from the page before her eyes, if only she looked at the map a certain way. It was then that an idea began to piece together in the back of her mind.

*Charlie, if the Reverend and his wife took Alex, why wasn't he with them when we ran into them?' she asked, as she trying to pin the idea down.*Surely that means they must have kidnapped him and taken him back to their home before setting out again on a new hunt for children?'

*Well, yeah that makes sense. I don't know how that helps us though?' he replied, wondering where she was going with this.

He just wanted to keep her thoughts grounded. It was far too easy to jump to conclusions when you were desperate and scared. a.s.suming an answer was the right one just because it was the only one you could come up with, could be dangerous and the way the world was now, could end up getting you killed.

Liz knew there was something just dancing on the edges of her mind. Something that would become obvious the moment she managed to get a grip on it. She turned the map this way and that, looking for inspiration. She scanned the areas around the Penhaligan home and the seaside home of the O'Briens, hoping the solution would show itself. She traced the roads from both of the locations back to Carnglaze Caverns, both of which forced them along a long section of motorway that would be un-pa.s.sable.

*Come on, come on, come on,' she said to herself, sure the answer was staring her right in the face. *Come on, they didn't fly there, there must be a way.'

The moment she said it, she could feel the idea becoming solid. Obviously the Reverend and his wife didn't fly to the Penhaligan's or the O'Brien's but there's nothing to say they had to get there by cart, or rather by road. Immediately Liz began pushing aside the spy hole covers to let in more light, so she could see more clearly.

*What? What is it? have you thought of something?' Alice said, moving aside so Liz could lie more of the map flat on the floor.

Scanning the map through new eyes, Liz's finger darted from location to location.

*Got it!' she said excitedly. *They used the train tracks. They didn't go by road at all for some of their journey... Look!'

Charlie stopped Delilah and turned round to watch Liz follow the routes the Reverend and Ruth could have taken.

*See, the train line branches off here to go to Cawsands Bay and then back up here there's a branch line that's only a few miles from the Penhaligan home,' Liz said, looking from one face to the next for confirmation that her idea was plausible. *And look, the train line runs parallel to the motor way for quite a long section before it crosses it by a tunnel or bridge at this point.'

Charlie leaned forward, studying the map for himself.

*Do you know, I think you may have something there,' he said squeezing Liz's shoulder, *and that would explain the crashed train we found. They wouldn't want to run the risk of being run down by a train using the tracks, so they probably sabotaged a section, just in case. I wouldn't put it past them.'

*And if they left the tracks here,' Liz continued, now knowing she was right and this was the only possible way the Reverend could have got around *they could get back onto the smaller, more pa.s.sable roads for the rest of their journey home.'

*Right, so we just have to find a section of the line where we can get onto the tracks and then follow them till we get over the motorway,' Imran said, his smile beaming with pride at Liz's brainwave.

Taking the map from Liz, Charlie began to work out their route. He knew they may have to follow the line for a while until they found the section the Reverend had used to gain access, but at least now they had a feasible plan of action.

It took them two hours before they found a road that ran along part of the train line. Unfortunately the high fence that ran along the track embankment prevented them from accessing the line, so Charlie decided to travel parallel to it, hoping to find a break or a level crossing where they could move onto the tracks.

*There should be a crossing in the small village coming up,' Imran said, looking up from the map. *Hopefully we can get onto the tracks there.'

*Let's hope so,' Charlie said, his concern written all over his face, *we keep going much further in this direction and we'll start running into a lot more of the Dead. The motorways turned into a blood bath pretty quickly back in the day and who knows how their number has increased since then.'

When the Dead first came people fell into two groups. Either they fled the cities, desperate to escape the Dead coming through their front windows, or they found places of refuge within the city, thinking they could wait out the disaster by living off the scavenged food left in homes and shops. Sadly the choice was ultimately no choice at all and many of both sides were doomed to join the army of the Dead, hungry for flesh. Motorways became deadlocked with traffic, as people fled in any vehicle that could carry them. Inevitably some brought with them relatives and loved ones who had already been bitten. And when they turned in transit, the resulting carnage made the roads awash with spilt blood. Drivers would lose control of their cars, as their Dead relatives clambered over the front seats to attack their living flesh. As car smashed into car, the number of the dead increased at an unbelievable rate and soon whole stretches of motorway were nothing but fire and broken metal, littered with torn and broken bodies. Worst among it all were the Dead, as they moved with a savage hunger from wreck to wreck seeking the trapped to feast upon. Even those who were lucky enough to be miles behind the initial crashes could not escape this b.l.o.o.d.y carnage for long. With traffic b.u.mper to b.u.mper they were effectively trapped within their vehicles, unable to move their car even if they wanted to. So when the wave of the Dead descended upon them, they faced the terrible choice of joining the stampede of the living fleeing past their windows, or pray the Dead would not be able to break in to get them. Children, the weak and the elderly were crushed underfoot, as Man reverted to his most basic instinct to survive. When the wave reached them, the sheer numbers of the Dead overwhelmed those sat helpless in their cars. Smashing windows with shredded and broken limbs and being oblivious to any pain, the Dead soon began pulling the terrified living from their seats. As skin tore and the living fell to be ripped to pieces, the Dead added to their number ten-fold, until soon the only thing that remained moving on the motorways were the Dead.

Those who stayed in the cities faired a little better and managed to hold out for a while but as food reserves became scarce over the next few months, they too were forced to flee only to be met by the Dead waiting for them on the roads. So Charlie knew that even though seven years had pa.s.sed, the motorway would still have a high concentration of the Dead. Those from the original carnage would not be a problem in their decrepit and weathered state, but it was those who had unwillingly joined the Dead in the years since, that they would have to worry about. These would still be able to move and if they attacked in enough numbers, they could tear their way into the cart and that would be that.

Pulling into the small village they were met with the usual scenes of destruction. The small stone cottages, once picturesque and maintained with care, were now just sad reminders of the tragedy that had befallen this rural community. Each home they pa.s.sed inevitably had had its door broken down by the hungry Dead, intent on devouring the living inside. Where the doors had proven too st.u.r.dy, the Dead attackers had simple smashed their way through the windows. Even now Liz watched a pair of mouldy and faded print curtains, flutter back and forth through the shattered gla.s.s of a broken front window. As Delilah pulled the cart past another equally ruined home, Liz noticed some of the roof tiles had been broken through from inside, creating a hole in the roof. This in itself was hardly note worthy but it was the words those trapped inside had painted on the roof, that twisted her heart. Written in large spray painted letters on the tiles was the phrase *HELP! 3 KIDS ALIVE HERE!' Liz doubted anyone had come to their rescue and nightmare scenes of the terrified children trapped in the attic waiting for help that never came, filled her mind. She wondered if they had been able to make a last ditch attempt to flee and hoped with all her heart that they had been as lucky as Anne and herself and made it out alive, but she doubted it.

*The crossing should be the other side of the green and just around the corner,' Imran said, peering through the front view slit, as they entered what would have been the main hub of the village.

In this case the only thing that distinguished it from the other small groupings of homes was that here there had been a tiny multi-purpose shop, a small pub and a village green not much bigger than the size of tennis court. The Green, that would have been a carefully mowed and maintained patch of gra.s.s, perhaps with a floral centre piece was now overgrown with high gra.s.ses, brambles and a few tree saplings. Wooden benches positioned at intervals along its perimeter had all but been swallowed up by the encroaching plant growth spilling out onto the cracked road surface, while a riot of pale rose blossoms grew wild and unchecked at its heart. At some point, there had been a collision just outside the little shop. A rusted and burned out Land Rover lay on its side, the charred and bleached bones of the driver, long since picked clean by birds and insects, were scattered about the vehicles twisted frame. The car that had collided with the Land Rover, its make now unrecognisable had ended up nothing but a crumpled ma.s.s of burnt metal. After the initial impact, it had ricocheted off to smash into the brickwork, just shy of the shops plate gla.s.s window. But it was the resulting fuel tank explosion that had caused the most damage. The small shop and the neighbouring pub had been reduced to burnt-out sh.e.l.ls, as the fire spread unchecked from building to building. Much of the pubs interior was now exposed to the sky, its consumed rafters and supports having long since given up their fight to keep the roof in place.

*This turning here?' Charlie asked, as he manoeuvred Delilah around the remnants of the roof fallen onto the road, making pa.s.sage past a tight squeeze.

*Yes,' Imran replied, *we should be able to see it as soon as we turn.'