Six Days With The Dead Part 3

As they entered the refectory, the other members of the convent were seated at the long wooden table, except Cam and Michael who were still on watch duty. Liz and Imran went to two of the empty wooden chairs and sat down together. Nicky pa.s.sed Liz the plate of the dense grainy bread. It wasn't very nice but once it was soaked in the soup it added needed bulk to their meals. Duncan had used his engineering knowledge to rig up a milling device down by the stream but there were still a few quirks that needed ironing out before they would get a fine flour from their grain. Nadine had also read about cultivating natural yeast spores that were permanently in the air. If she could get it to bloom in the culture, then at least they could have some bread that was a bit doughier.

Next to Nicky sat Justin, already spooning mouthfuls from the bowl that Sister Margaret had placed in front of him. In between mouthfuls of the thick soup, Justin was having an animated talk with Richard, Nicky's' husband, who was sitting on his other side. Rich was being sprayed with bits of soup, as the young boy got over excited about some detail of the tale he was telling. While Justin was otherwise engaged Nicky lent forward towards Liz.

*I hear that the new arrival had a run in with some raiders,' she whispered, not wanting Justin to hear *should we be worried?'

*Charlie, myself and Imran are going to see some the outposts tomorrow, we'll see if they've seen anything,' Liz replied, *but to be on the safe side just keep an eye on where Justin is over the next few days... just in case.'

There was no point in worrying people until they knew what, if anything, they were dealing with. Nodding, Nicky's' arm subconsciously went around Justin's' shoulder, protectively. She glanced across the table to Barry, Rich's brother, remembering another child. A child she failed in her duty as a mother to protect.

When the first cases of the dead attacking the living were being reported on the news, Nicky had been waiting at the arrivals gate for Rich. Rich had been in Saudi on a building contract for the last three months and she was impatient for him to walk through customs. When he finally came with his suitcases in tow two hours later, she had run into his arms in true Hollywood romance style. They had decided to have a bite to eat before leaving the airport and as they sat eating their sandwiches Nicky glanced over at a woman staring horrified at the monitor behind her. Turning round, her jaw dropped. Scenes of blood and carnage in London were being shown on the BBC. Frightened looking news reporters, telling of riots throughout London, Paris, Milan, all the major capitals of Europe. Riots, that seemed to be made up of dead people. Standing up slowly Nicky grabbed Rich. Leaving the luggage behind and running for their car, they both had one word screaming in their minds *Sam'. Nicky had left their nine year old son with Barry, her brother-in-law. She trusted Barry completely. He was a policeman and Sam loved spending time with his uncle. As the car joined the motorway her mobile rang, it was Barry. Just seeing the number on the screen her stomach dropped. Answering the call, Barry told her that Sam had been attacked by a crazy girl in the street. It wasn't too bad though as she had only bitten his hand, which Barry had carefully disinfected. Barry had locked all the doors and windows and was now watching Transformers with Sam in the living room. Of course at that time, they didn't know what was to come an hour or so later. By the time Nicky and Rich were only half an hour away from home the news on the radio had gone from horrific, to the stuff of nightmares. But it was when they mentioned the bites that Nicky realised her baby would die. She frantically dialled Barry's phone number again and again, desperate to get through but only getting the service unavailable message. As their car pulled up to Barry's house, she was out of the car and running to the front door before the car had even stopped. Opening the door Richard and Nicky ran through the house, calling his name over and over, desperate to find their son. Upstairs in the back bedroom they found Barry, tears running down his face as he held the limp body of Sam in his arms. A b.l.o.o.d.y towel lay over Sam's head. Reaching to remove it, Barry caught her hand, stopping her. She did not need to see what was beneath to know her baby was gone. She did not remember much of the next few weeks. Running and hiding, sometimes fighting, it didn't matter anymore to her. Weeks, turned in to months and Rich and Barry stayed with her, keeping her safe, keeping her alive. She carried with her a painful all-consuming guilt. Guilt for not being there to protect Sam and guilt for hating Barry, though rationally she knew he had had no choice in what he had done. Over the next few years they had travelled the south coast, avoiding the towns, moving from one settlement to the next. It didn't matter to her. Faces, names, places, all were meaningless now. They had joined a small caravan of wagons and then one day Rich had brought to her the frail weeping Justin. It was if she had been given a chance to make amends. They had sat in the wagon holding each other weeping. Her own baby was gone and this child's mother was also gone. They needed each other and she would build for them both a new life on that need.

*So don't say anything in front of Anne, please. I don't want her to worry while I'm away' Liz asked Nicky.

Liz knew she could rely on Alice to look after Anne while she was gone. If the worst happened and Liz never came back, they had discussed what would happen. Alice had agreed to take care of Anne permanently. In a world where people could be there one day and not the next, things like this often came up if someone you loved was dependent on you. Liz looked over at Alice who was sitting between Charlie and Duncan. She knew if the worst ever happened, Anne would be safe in their care.

Duncan had been a G.o.d send to the members of the Convent community. He had designed and made the pump to draw water from the stream. He had built the mill, so they could now have bread, of a sort, and he had worked out the pullies on the gate system to keep them all safe. When the Dead had swept across the globe, Duncan had been an engineer on an oil drilling platform in the North Sea. Sat in the television room with the other riggers, he had watched the world fall apart, one horrific report at a time. Then, when the satellites stopped transmitting they could only a.s.sume the mainland was now lost to them. After only six months their supplies began to run out and they had been forced to survive on just fish and rain water. But then ships had started stopping at the rig, seeing it as a manmade island, an oasis in a world of walking dead. Rest and repairs had been bartered for supplies from these ocean going refugees. This had worked well for four years, until a cruiser out of control and full of the Dead had rammed into one of the supports. Escaping in a tug boat as the rig collapsed into the sea, he had become just another person looking for a safe haven in this new world. They had spent the next year travelling around the coast, making brief scavenging missions inland for fuel and any food they could find. But when they could no longer find the diesel they needed for the tug, he knew it was time to find a new way to live in this strange world. So, travelling from one community to the next, he earned safe pa.s.sage through the Dead by designing and helping build the things that made life easier for those fighting to survive. When he joined the Convent community he decided life with no real ties to the living was hardly living at all, so he decided to stay.

As Liz looked around at the other survivors around the table, she realised this small group of individuals, drawn together in their fight to survive, had become a family. Each finding something they had lost, in the comfort of the others in the Convent. She looked down at their newest addition, William Parker. She wondered if he would stay with them or continue looking for his lost nephew. She felt a little sorry for him, as he was bombarded with question after question about the outside world. Very few of the refugees had left the safe confines of the Convent since they arrived a year ago. Most went little further than the fields that surrounded them and Liz did not blame them.

Down the table Damian had his arm around Sally. He was whispering amorous promises in her ear, making her giggle like a 47 year old school girl. Liz didn't know if they actually had feelings for each other or they were just clinging to this modic.u.m of comfort they had found for themselves. It was surprising what people could convince themselves of once everything else had fallen apart. Liz was sure Sally wouldn't have looked twice at Damian if the Dead hadn't come. Sally must have been an attractive woman before living off sc.r.a.ps and the daily terror aged her. At times you could still see the attractive woman she had once been, hidden behind the thin sallow face, dry lank hair and the just the wrong side of thin, frame. Liz thought Sally must have been a woman who had been used to using her looks to get what she wanted. Sally had often spoken of the rich lifestyle she had lived, the three ex-husbands and the fourth that had died during an attack of the Dead. So it was hardly surprising that she had fallen back on what she knew best, charming a man to get the protection she needed. Though, Liz thought she may have backed the wrong horse picking Damian. No, if she had wanted security she really should have made a play for the unattached fighters of the group. Charlie, Cam, Michael, Mohammad or even Barry with his policeman training would have been better than Damian. Although Damian could hold his own against the Dead, Liz doubted he would really risk his own life to save her. He had survived this long by having no ties and only looking out for number one. Most had had to find that balance between self-preservation and looking out for the less able they loved. Too far either way and you either became too callous or just plain suicidal. Though, Liz knew which she would rather be labelled as. She would die for Anne, as would Charlie. Just as Rich and Nicky would fight to save Justin. She even believed poor Lars would sacrifice himself to save the emotionally damaged Penny. But when it came to the crunch, Sally had better not expect Damian to come charging into the Dead to save her.

Just then Penny danced barefoot into the refectory humming a nameless tune. As always there was a touch of wildness in her eyes. She existed in a world of her own making, shutting out the horrors that had surrounded her. Occasionally though, for unknown reasons, this block would slip and she would briefly get a glimpse of her nightmarish memories. Penny's unpredictable nature made some people feel uncomfortable. It had even been discussed by a few whether Penny was a danger to the other members of the Convent. What if she opened the gates while they slept? They could be literally eaten in their beds. But Sister Josephine had stepped in angrily, saying all were welcome at Lanherne Convent and who were they to say who could stay. To calm people's fears, Lars had promised to lock Penny in her room each night. Hers was now the only Nuns cell with a bolt on the outside, keeping possible trouble in, rather than out.

*Come sit by me and Anne,' Lars said to Penny trying to catch her attention, *Sister Margaret and Sister Rebecca have made some lovely soup for us Penny.'

Sister Rebecca got up to guide Penny over to where Lars was sitting.

*Come along dear, we don't want it to get cold now do we?' Sister Rebecca said, but the moment her hand touched her elbow the tune died on Penny's lips.

The silence became a solid thing in the room, as conversations stopped and spoons paused half way to mouths. Lars could see where this was going and began to rise. Frozen where she stood, Penny's focus a million miles away, her mind was lost somewhere in her past. As scenes played themselves like a horrific film, her breathing became faster and faster. A wet patch blooming on her dress and running to the floor, the horrors only she could see taking away control of her bladder. Then a scream filled with hysteria broke the silence that had taken hold. Lost in her own living nightmare, unable to break free, Penny screamed again. A loud cry, filled with horror and pain. Her shaking hands pulling at her hair, as she tried to pluck the images from her mind.

*Penny!' Lars shouted, trying to break through to her, *Penny, stop it. Penny you're safe, Penny!' But she could not hear him where her mind had taken her.

Then with a swiftness, Sister Rebecca pulled her around and with a loud crack, she slapped the hysterical Penny across the face. Abruptly the scream stopped.

*Sister!' Lars said, slightly shocked by her action.

*You're back with us now aren't you Penny, hmm.' She said, as she cupped Penny's chin to look directly in her eyes. Penny, blinking as if waking up, focused on Sister Rebecca momentarily before gliding over to Lars.

*It's alright Sir, I won't forget my homework' she said already drifting off into an alternative present.

Lars sat back down with a thump, a sadness enveloping him as he watched Sister Rebecca and Sister Margaret lead Penny away to wash. Now it was his turn to remember. Face after face of the sixth-formers he had been given charge of, each looking up at him eager for the knowledge he could share. Each with hopes for a future, a future where they planned and loved and lived, a future where they died when the time was right. But all their futures had been cruelly s.n.a.t.c.hed away by unknown dead hands. Leaving them b.l.o.o.d.y and dying as hungry mouths tore into their flesh.

Anne glanced over at Lars, concern on her young face. Then placing her small hand in his *Would you like some bread, Mr Lars?. It's a bit hard though,' she said, making a show of banging the hard bread on the table.

Looking at this small child trying to cheer him up almost made him want to weep.

*Thank you Anne, you're right it is a bit hard isn't it,' he said, with a sad smile, taking the chunk of bread Anne was offering him.

Liz smiled at Anne with a nod, *Well done.' she mouthed.

Slowly conversations began and once again, William was the centre of attention.

Has there being any sign of any government yet? Have you seen any of the army? Has there been any word from the scientists on Aukland islands? It was always the same when they met a new survivor. Desperate for information, the same questions would always be asked. And as always, the survivor would shrug their shoulders, knowing nothing of the world outside the small part they had been living in. If there was any effective part of the army left or a government squirrelled away in nuclear bunkers they were not making their presence felt. And as far as Liz was concerned the scientists looking for a cure were just a hopeful dream.

As the room began to return to normal, people finished their meal, all of them tactfully ignoring Penny's episode. People dealt with their past in different ways and although no one could blame Penny for the way she dealt with hers, that didn't mean they liked to have such an obvious reminder of the horrors they had all experienced.

Adrian and Bryon were helping the Sisters clean away the plates, so they could leave. Each evening the Sisters would retire to the Chapel to pray. Liz marvelled at their dedication, she doubted she would still be praying to a G.o.d who was so conspicuous in his absence. But then, these woman had each chosen their vocation to G.o.d long before the Dead came and changed everything.

Bryon wasn't asked to do watch duty. Although Liz was sure he would be capable of dispatching the Dead if the need arose, with his limp, they didn't want to chance it. Bryon had broken his leg nine months ago and although Nadine had done her best setting the break, without the aid of X-rays his leg had healed twisted. In a world where you could die from the simplest of things, Bryon was lucky to be left with only a permanent limp.

*Have you finished?' he asked, as he approached Liz and Imran, his arms already full of empty bowls and cutlery.

*Thanks Bryon,' Liz said, as she helped put their bowls on the top of the pile *How's it going in the green house? Bit hot in there at the moment I guess.'

*You wouldn't believe it.' He replied.

With watch duty off the cards and his previous career as a commercial artist more than redundant now, Bryon had developed a bit of a green thumb. Mohammad had found a long deserted organic farm on which three poly-tunnel style greenhouse had been erected. It had taken many trips but eventually they had managed to dismantle one and rebuild it just outside the Convent walls. With Sister Claire's practical know how and Nadine's theoretical knowledge, Bryon and Adrian had transformed the poly-tunnel into a mini garden of Eden. Every inch of s.p.a.ce was given over to food production. With manure from the horses and an ingenious irrigation system Duncan had rigged up, the poly-tunnel had proved indispensable.

*And how's the crop looking? I hear we may get a b.u.mper pineapple harvest this year.' Imran asked, the corner of his smile failing to cover his smirk.

Cam, on one of the foraging trips had found a small greenhouse with a sad looking pineapple plant growing in it. The fruit had been hard and not very tasty, but when Bryon had heard about it he nagged Cam to go back and get a cutting. They could replant it and eventually, he hoped with a lot of time, care and attention, they would have fresh pineapple. No one had been at all convinced but sure enough, by some miracle Bryon had managed to get the cutting to take root. There was of course, no sign of any fruit yet but Bryon was ever hopeful.

*Ha, Ha... very funny.' Bryon said, not all amused as he limped off to the kitchen muttering to himself.

*Oh, you shouldn't be so mean, he's only trying to make things nicer for us all.' Liz said, elbowing Imran in the ribs.

*Sorry couldn't help it.' he replied, smiling. Slipping his arm around her waist he pulled Liz closer to him. Just to feel her body close made everything in the world seem a little better.

*Am I forgiven?' he whispered, planting a soft kiss on her neck.

*Hmm, I suppose so, but it's not me you should be apologizing to.'

Imran rolled his eyes. He started to reply when he noticed Adrian standing behind Liz, watching her. Imran couldn't put his finger on it but there was something about Adrian he didn't like. He was short, mousey, with pinched mean features. Imran could imagine Adrian had been just the type of boy to taunt a pet dog just for the fun of it. Adrian was not good at fighting the Dead. He would rather leave a walking corpse for some-one else to deal with, rather than put himself in any danger. *Adrian' was Adrian's top priority and other people would just have to look after themselves.

Apparently Adrian had survived in London by taking to the sewer system to avoid the Dead. He had made himself a nest hidden just beneath the streets, while thousands of dead feet marched mere metres above him. Lifting up manhole covers from beneath, for a quick look through his homemade periscope, he would check if the Dead were near. Then he would scurry out of his underground haven into deserted shops and warehouses to search for food. Any hint of danger and he fled back to the safety of his sewer. There would always be another shop and London's sewer system went on for miles and miles. In a city populated mainly by the Dead, Adrian had faired surprisingly well. The Dead had no use for the tinned food that lay abandoned in supermarket isles, so pickings could be easy if you were careful. He rarely came across anyone else alive and on those rare occasions, discretion was certainly the better part of valour. He would slink into the shadows to avoid being seen. Hidden in an overhead air vent, he had once witnessed what happened when you were foolishly friendly with someone you came across while searching for food. He had watched as two scavenging men had set upon an unknown third, taking everything he had and then beating him unconscious. Afterwards the two men then took turns with the unlucky fool, satisfying other needs. After they were done with him, they had left him for the Dead to feast on. Adrian did not know if the man had regained consciousness in time to save himself and didn't care. *Better you than me.' was all he could think as he crept back to his home in the sewer. He had managed to live like this for almost three years until the fires that seemed to start up randomly, finally forced him to move. With huge areas of London alight, he was forced to abandon this safe life and flee. It was only when London was ablaze that he found out there had been more people surviving within the city than he had first thought. Banding together, out of necessity rather than want, they had escaped the flames and the walking Dead of London. As soon as he was safe he left this new group, preferring to chance it on his own. It was too easy for a group to unwittingly attract the attention of the Dead. On his own he could run and hide, as quiet as a mouse and wait to make his moves. When he came across the Convent he instantly knew a good thing when he saw it. A fortress against the Dead, the Convent would be his home, for now.

*Do you want something, Adrian?' Imran asked abruptly, irritated by this small, weasely man.

*No, nothing,.. sorry.' Adrian replied, nervously licking his lips.

Fl.u.s.tered that he had been caught staring at Liz, Adrian grabbed the last bowl on the table and scurried after Bryon. As Imran returned his attention to Liz, he failed to see the look of pure hatred that Adrian gave him as he left the room. As dusk began to fall on their dead world, the inhabitants of Lanherne Convent began to wind down their day. Like in a time of preindustrial revolution, their day was dictated by the rising and setting of the sun. People drifted off to their cells, glad to have survived another day. As Liz stood outside her door Imran held her hand, not wanting to let her go even for the few hours she slept.

*Sleep well my beautiful woman.' Imran said, as he lent forward to give her a gentle kiss.

As always the horrors of their world were gone, if only for the moment as they lost themselves in their embrace. A cough brought them back to the now, as Charlie made his presence known.

*Sorry Liz, just wanted to remind you to double check Anne's emergency kit before we left tomorrow,' he said, looking slightly embarra.s.sed to have ruined their moment, *I'll have a word with Alice so she's prepared too, just in case.'

*Sure, was just about to,' she replied, as she reluctantly moved out of Imran's embrace.

*Don't worry I'll have a word with Mohammad, ask him to keep an eye on the pair of them too.' Imran said, *It's only for a few days, nothing should go wrong.'

*Well, let's hope not.' Charlie said, remembering other communities that had been overrun by the Dead in less time. Nodding *goodnight' Charlie walked off down the hall to the cell Alice slept in.

*Well, good night then.' said Imran.

Brushing her cheek with the back of his hand, he left to talk to his brother. As Liz watched him leave she could see Charlie and Alice talking down the hallway at her door. Charlie, leaning up against the door frame, in a somewhat forced nonchalant manner, while Alice did her best to flirt. Liz smiled to herself and closing her door, left them to it. From the patch of sky she could see through the cell's small high window, Liz could see the first of the stars beginning to appear in the darkening sky. Anne was reading a children's book by the flickering light of a candle she had placed on the chest that sat in the corner. Liz glanced at the book's cover. It was something by Enid Blyton. The cover showed three happy children playing with a dog on a beach. Just another reminder of a world lost to them for ever.

*Right, I'm one of the Dead and you can hear me coming down the hall, what do you do?' Liz asked out of the blue, sitting down on the bed.

Without even looking up from her book Anne replied *Bolt the door, push the chest against it and don't make any noise that will draw attention to myself.'

*And what if you hear screaming down the hall?'

*Stay where I am, don't open the door and wait for you or Charlie,' Anne said, as she glanced over the top of the book, *I'm not stupid you know, you go over all this every time you go outside the walls. I can remember what you said last time.'

*Hey, no harm in checking.' Liz said as she knelt down. Moving the candle and the washing jug and basin to the floor, she opened the chest. She pulled out a large plastic bottle filled with water. *When was the last time this was changed?' she asked gesturing with the bottle.

*Erm?' Anne said, trying to remember.

*Never mind, run down to the kitchen and do it now. Make sure you fill it from the already boiled drum, you don't want to get sick.' said Liz.

Anne closed her book and s.n.a.t.c.hed the bottle from her sister *I'm not an idiot.' she snapped, storming out of the door.

To kill off as much of the bacteria as possible, all water pumped from the stream was double boiled, as a matter of course. You didn't want to drink it straight from the stream, if you could help it. Who knew what or who may be decaying in it up river.

Liz continued rummaging through the chest, checking the other provisions that made up the emergency kit for Anne. Checking the small store of food, some dried fruit with hard biscuits and a large hunting knife were still there. When Anne returned with the refilled bottle, Liz placed it with the other emergency supplies, hoping she would never have need of them. She knew she could trust Mohammad and Alice to look after Anne while she was gone but there was something about this trip that made her hands itch. Raiders were trouble. They tended to travel in small groups, taking anything they wanted and getting away with it just because they were stronger. More often than not they didn't care who died in the process. If they ever found the Convent, Liz feared there would certainly be bloodshed. The fact that they had left William's horse and seemingly killed his brother just for the sake of it, was very worrying. These were unpredictable men and that made them even more dangerous. Looking over at Anne as she returned to the happy world that existed now only between the pages of her book, Liz wondered if things would, or even could return to the way they once were. She wondered if simple things like white sugar, soft toilet paper or chewing gum were now just things of Mans past. Their manufacture and meaning would become as unknown to them as the Pyramids. They would be words without meaning in a world of the Dead.

As Anne snuggled down under the blanket, Liz brushed aside one of her curls. Pushing it behind her sisters ear, Liz knew she wanted a better life for Anne. She wanted to wipe this stain of the Dead from their world and Lanherne had proven a perfect starting point. From here they had reached out to other small communities and had even started bartering goods between each other. Where one may have extra produce, another may have medical supplies and another again may have livestock for breeding. Man would endure, of that she was certain but she knew just enduring wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for her and didn't want it to be enough for Anne either. She was always like this whenever she went on a trip into the Dead lands. It was if she needed to convince herself that there was something worth fighting for, something bigger than herself and the life she had built here. She was but a small cog in the machine to help Man back from the brink of savagery and with each cog doing its bit, she knew they would get there in the end.

Lying on her back with her hands behind her head, Liz let her mind wander to things that could be. Possibilities of a future life she could share with Imran. With Idyllic scenarios of fat faced babies with warm olive skin held aloft by a proud father, as she looked on content with her lot. At some point she must have fallen asleep because she was woken with a start by the too human screeching of a fox somewhere off in the wood. Anne had pulled the blanket up over Liz before falling asleep herself and now she lay breathing softly, her fingers twitching slightly filling some dream activity of their own. As Liz watched her in the soft moonlight that filled their cell, Anne mumbled something in her sleep and rolled over. Liz lay back down and drifted back off to sleep, hoping she would return to the pleasant dreams of life with Imran but she was once again in her parents living room with her father coming through the door wild and b.l.o.o.d.y.

DAY 2.

As Liz's eyes opened the scenes from her childhood were gone in an instant, leaving only her heart pounding and an ache in her chest. She hoped that one day she would build up enough good memories to blot out those first few moments when the world changed.

Outside, the rising sun was just bringing the soft grey light of dawn. A swathe of warming colour bleeding into the pale smoky blue sky. The birds, bidding farewell to the night stars and welcoming a new day, began their chorus. Liz listened, as first one bird let forth its song, only for another to join its praise for the forthcoming day, until she could no longer distinguish one song from another. A cacophony of nature's melodies, rising and falling in waves, as the stars were bleached away by a clean blue sky. Down in the courtyard, the Convents c.o.c.kerel added its own harsh crow to the morning herald. Liz knew that in the small cells around the convent, other eyes would be opening, their own dreams becoming forgotten memories. Details dancing just out of grasp. No matter how desperately they were reached for, they would evaporate for another day, only to come again when night fell.

Sitting up, she stretched, feeling her muscles tighten and then relax, as her blood washed the slumber from her body. With a yawn she gently rocked Anne's shoulder to bring her up slowly from the depths of her sleep. A groan of recognition from Anne and Liz got out of bed.

*Morning sleepy head,' Liz said, as she reached for the rough towel hanging on the back of the door. She wouldn't get a chance for a good wash for the next few days and intended to make use of the warm water while she could, *I'm off to the kitchen Anne, lock the door behind me.'

As Liz opened the door Anne got out of bed. With her curls flattened on one side and her face still covered in crease marks, she moved to the door. Trying to hold onto the last remnants of sleep, Anne fumbled for the bolt without opening her eyes.

*You've got half an hour,' Liz said, as she left the cell, hearing Anne slide the bolt across behind her.

As always the warming sun hadn't penetrated the corridor yet, and despite her thick socks, Liz could still feel the cold seeping out from the worn stone floor beneath. As quickly as she could, she made her way down to the kitchen, where she knew one of the Sisters would already have at least one of the water pans warming. Sure enough when she came through the kitchen door, Sister Margaret was there with two large pans of water already warming on the range.

*Well, good morning Liz, how are you today?' Sister Margaret asked, putting another piece of wood in the flames. *Here, you take your water and I'll get some porridge ready for when you're done.'

Sister Margaret handed Liz a large washing up bowl full of the warm water. Carefully taking the bowl and thanking the Sister, Liz slowly made her way to the bathroom that had been put aside for the women.

b.u.mping the door open with her hip, she backed into the room. Sitting the bowl in the bottom of the bath, she stripped off her wrinkled slept-in clothes. Once again, Duncan had worked a small miracle in the bathrooms for them all. Attached to the wall above the bath he had bolted a large open topped container from which a tap would let water run through a shower head. All you had to do was stand on a box in the bath so you could fill the tank with your warm water and then, when you were ready, just turn the tap for your shower. Admittedly it only lasted a few minutes but the shower was a luxury she never thought possible a year ago. As she rubbed the rough washcloth over her body the last remnants of sleep disappeared, leaving her skin tingling and fresh. Thoughts of her love making with Imran last night flooded her mind and she smiled to herself. As her tank of warm water ran out, she stood there letting the water run down her body. She looked across at herself in the mirror that somebody, probably Sally, had placed over the now dried up sink. She looked at her taut muscular frame, with her small high b.r.e.a.s.t.s and boyish hips and tried to remember what sort of body her mother had had. If alive, would her mother even recognise the wild battle ready young woman looking back at Liz? Broken from her thoughts by a knock at the door, Liz reached for her towel.

*Come in,' she said, as she began to dry her short hair.

Alice and Sally both came in bottom first, each carrying their own bowl of water. Just as the door closed behind Sally, Liz caught a glimpse of Adrian as he walked past, their eyes catching each other just for a split second. Before she even thought to cover herself, the door had closed, breaking their contact. But in that instant she saw a brief flash of something cross his face. From that look, she instantly knew how he saw her, his hunger unmasked and plain to see. This was a look, not of love or even l.u.s.tful pa.s.sion but a pure desire to simply use. She had seen that look before when they had pa.s.sed through some of the rougher settlements but hadn't expected to see it here. In other places, unwanted hands had grabbed at her thinking they could simply take liberties with her. Her abrupt refusal had brought forth foul language and threats in most cases but her swiftness with fist and blade had kept them at bay. She hoped Adrian wasn't going to be a problem. If he made trouble for her or any of the other women, those staying at the Convent would have to vote on whether he would be allowed to stay.

*Earth to Liz!' Alice said, waving her hand in front of Liz's face. *You were miles away... everything alright?'

*Erm, what?.. sorry, just thinking about something,' Liz replied, her attention back onto the two other women in the bathroom with her.

*Have you finished?' Sally said, gesturing to the shower Liz was still standing under.

*G.o.d, sorry Sally, yes, go ahead,' Liz stepped out of the bath and moved over to the mirror with her towel wrapped about her. Sally poured her warm water into the tank and let the tap begin to run.

*Are you sure you're ok?' Alice asked, lowering her voice and glancing at Sally to make sure Liz could speak if she wanted to.

*Hmm, yeah, look if I say something, don't get the wrong idea, it's just a feeling,' Liz said, bending down to pick up her clothes.

*Well, if that's meant to put me at ease you're failing terribly,' grabbing her arm and pulling her up, *Come on, what's up?'

*Look, it's just a hunch...but watch yourself around Adrian when we're gone. I don't trust him, there's just something about him' she replied, holding her clothes to her chest.

Liz could see the concern written on Alice's face. She hadn't intended to frighten her, not just based on a feeling, anyway.

*I'm probably just a bit worked up about being away from Anne for a few days, that's all. You know, seeing problems where there aren't any,' she said, trying to take back what she had said.

But Liz knew that now the seed of doubt had been planted, Alice would subconsciously be wary of Adrian anyway. After what had happened to her before, Alice didn't take threats of unwanted attention lightly. As Liz got dressed, she could see Alice going through the various interactions she had had with Adrian, looking for any sign that he could be trouble. Alice had always found Adrian a bit of a loner, not really interacting with the rest of the group. She doubted even Bryon, who Adrian mainly worked with, would cla.s.s him as a friend. No, she would definitely keep an eye on Adrian from now on. She was a different woman now, she was no longer the woman who had been dragged into the dark by those men. That woman had died the moment she had stabbed one of them in neck with his own knife, as he lay grunting on top her. She had learnt to take care of herself now and would gut Adrian where he stood rather than let him lay a hand on her, Anne or any of the other women at Lanherne.

Sally had finished her brief shower and was combing her short hair in the mirror she had placed above the sink.

*I used to have such lovely hair before all this c.r.a.p happened,' she said, pulling at the knots in her short mousey blond hair. *Oh and look at my skin,' running her fingers along her jaw line. *I used to have beautiful skin. Now, look at me. All I see is my mother's face looking back at me.'

Liz was used to Sally acting like this and tuned her out almost from the moment she started talking.

*Pa.s.s me your bowl Sally and I'll take it back to the kitchen for you,' Liz said, gesturing to her own empty bowl she held in her arms, hoping to stop Sally mid flow of her pointless rant.

Barely even looking away from herself in the mirror Sally handed Liz her bowl.

*Thanks.'