Six Days With The Dead Part 6

As the thick sheets of rain continued to fall, Charlie was having trouble seeing the road in front of him, at one point, missing a turning and having to double back on themselves to get back on the right route, they were relieved when the tops of the pylons finally came into view.

As expected, when Delilah pulled the cart up to the Substation's gate, the Dead were there, pawing at the fence.

*Why haven't they dealt with them?' Imran asked, indicating the six walking Dead.

*They're probably in the buildings and don't know they're here' Charlie said, frowning *Sloppy though, very sloppy. If I lived here there'd be someone on watch no matter what the weather was like!'

*Well I guess it's up to us then,' Liz said, pulling her sword free of its sheath.

*Don't know how good my aim's going to be in this rain but I'll do my best,' Imran said.

*Right on the count of three, then,' Charlie said, pulling one of his ice-picks from his back *one... two... three.'

On three, Imran flipped the top hatch open, taking aim at a Dead man that turned in his direction. Simultaneously, Liz and Charlie jumped down from the carts two side hatches. With the ground slippery under foot they walked slowly to the group of animated Dead. Liz heard the tw.a.n.g from Imran's bow, the heavy rain making the arrow just miss its mark and plunge deep into the Dead man's eye. Doing no real damage to the walking corpse, which was already missing an arm, it continued to stumbled in the direction of the cart, the prospect of living flesh forcing one foot in front of the other. Imran took a second shot and a third until this corpse finally fell to the mud, dead. Liz and Charlie each chose opponents and moved in for the kill. Charlie had chosen a large man, dressed in rotting blood stained army fatigues, this thing may have once been a solider. With a mighty swing Charlie ruptured its decaying skull with his ice pick. Dark clotted blood and brain matter splattered his arm. Not waiting to pull it free, he automatically grabbed the other ice pick from his chest, with a smooth practice motion, and moved onto the next corpse. With a quick glance in Liz's direction he saw her using her blade with the usual finesse and power. Her blade arched high, removing a Dead woman's arm at the elbow as it reached for her. Carrying the arc through, the blade continued its momentum, decapitating the walking cadaver. Barely stopping for a breath, Liz turned to the next Dead thing reaching for her. All the while arrows flew, most missing their all important killing shot. A small woman, her age undetectable, as mouldy skin hung loose and torn from her face and rotting b.r.e.a.s.t.s, stepped up to Charlie, keen to plunge black teeth into his warm flesh. With a force that would knock most men out cold, he punched her full in the face with his wrist knife. The woman stilled instantly, as the blade tore through the decaying flesh of her face and into her brain. With a kick from his large booted foot, her body flew backwards off of his knife to lay motionless in the mud. Liz had moved onto something that was probably a teenage boy when it had died. Now peppered with Imran's arrows, the boy must have died horribly. The flesh on his chest and stomach, together with many of his organs, had been ripped from him by Dead hands before he had died. With a powerful swipe she cut one off his legs from under him. As the Dead boy struggled to right himself in the slippery mud, she stepped forward and with an over arm swing her blade stuck into the boys forehead. Stepping on the now truly dead boy's neck, so she could pull her blade free, Liz turned just in time to see an unnoticed Dead man fall to the floor at her feet, an arrow protruding from the side of its head. Glancing up at Imran she mouthed *thanks'. Charlie finished off the last of the Dead group, rupturing the skull of woman who looked like she had been burnt in a severe fire at some point, her black and blistered skin sloughing off her face and neck as Charlie pushed against her with his foot to pull the pick free.

After checking there were no more Dead in the immediate area, Imran jumped down from the cart to retrieve his arrows, while Charlie wiped his ice picks clean.

*Right let's get out of this rain as soon as we can, shall we,' Charlie said, turning to Liz who was pulling free her sword from the decapitated head she had just stabbed into.

*No arguments here,' she had to shout over a loud rumble of thunder. Lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the torrential rain. *How do we get them to see us?'

*Easy,' Charlie said, as he went over to a crank handle by the side of the gate.

Turning it moved a series of oiled bicycle chains that had been connected together. Running along the inside of the compound they ended at a flag pole. Liz watched as a small wet white flag began to rise, flapping as it was caught by the wind. Once the flag had reached the top of the pole, snapping back and forth as it was caught by conflicting wind currents, Charlie waved them back to the cart.

*Right now we wait, you two might as well get in the cart, no point all of us all getting soaked,' he said.

*Bit late for that,' Liz said, pushing back her dripping wet hair.

Grateful to be out of the pouring rain, she didn't wait to be told twice. With a quick flick of her blade to remove the water, she climbed back into the cart with Imran while Charlie waited in the downpour for someone to open the gate for them.

*Thanks for that out there,' Liz said to Imran, tossing him a small towel, as water dripped from his warm olive skin and dark hair.

*Couldn't let another man get his hands on my girl, now could I?' he smiled, patting his face dry.

Giving his cream Kufie skull cap a wring out, the smile dropped from his lips and his eyes suddenly became serious as memories of his parents and sister came to him.

*Don't know what I'd do if I lost you, Lizzy,' he said in almost a whisper.

Taking the small towel from his hands, she patted the side of his face dry while she looked into his dark eyes, his face leaning into her hand lovingly. This simple action of tenderness that expressed the love she had for him, made her want to shut the cart's doors, forever blocking out this world full of death and horror. Just then, with a jolt, Delilah began moving forward. Broken from their moment, Liz and Imran looked forward through the front slit at Charlie leading them through the now open gate.

As the rain continued its downpour, Liz looking through one of the side view holes watched as a large man dressed in a fisherman's yellow sou'wester pushed the gate closed behind them. Delilah slowly pulled the cart along the small gravel pathway between the plots of densely planted vegetables, as Charlie led them over to one of the small concrete buildings. When the cart came to a stop, Liz and Imran climbed back out into the rain. Jumping down onto the gravel path, Imran ran over to Charlie to help him unhitch Delilah.

*Evening Liz, how are you?' the man in the sou'wester said, as he walked up behind her, carrying a heavy length of pipe.

*Been better, thanks, and certainly been dryer Mr...?' she replied, with a smile as she tried to recognise the man whose face was hidden in the shadow of the hood of his battered fisherman's mac. It wasn't until the man pushed the hood back slightly that she realised it was Patrick Sutton.

Patrick, at over six foot tall, well proportioned muscular frame and Greco-roman looks wouldn't have been out of place on the old movie screens but he actually been a simple PE teacher at a boys school. His good looks only marred now by the angry looking scar that ran down his right cheek into the dark stubble on his jaw line. Liz liked Patrick, he was instantly friendly to everyone and despite the scar, had a smile that could calm any situation.

*Oh, it's you Pat,' Liz said, reaching forward to give him a hug.

*And how is everybody at the Convent? No trouble I hope' he replied, concern flashing across his face.

*No, not with us.... but trouble nonetheless,' she said, her smile fading as she remembered the slaughter at the Penhaligan's home, *I'd better let Charlie fill you in, though.'

*Right, OK. Well do you and Imran? or is it Mohammed?' Pat said, trying to guess which of the twins he had welcomed into their home. *Anyway, you can take the horse into the stable building while the Sergeant gives me the heads up. Don't forget to rub down the horse thoroughly, you don't want her catching a chill from all this rain.'

*It's Imran, and thanks,' Liz said, touching his arm as she walked over to swap places with Charlie.

If she wasn't so in love with Imran she could see herself easily having a bit of a crush on Mr Sutton. Charlie and Imran had finished unhitching Delilah, so Liz took her reins and led her to the small building that housed the Substation's own two horses and at the moment some chickens that had taken refuge from the storm. Surprisingly, when Liz and Imran pa.s.sed through the widened doorway, they noticed the substation community now also had some pigs.

*Well I wonder where they found them?' Imran said, patting a fat sow on her rump to move her out of the way. *I'm not supposed to eat pork but hey, can't be too picky these days. I wonder if we can barter something for a breeding pair for the Convent?'

Delilah snorted showing her annoyance, as three of the small piglets ran squealing between her legs. Once the horse was completely inside, Liz pulled a rough looking blanket off a hook by the door and began wiping the water from Delilah's dripping wet body. In their stall the Substation's own two mares snorted and stamped their hooves at the new horse that had appeared in their home. Whether it was a welcome or a warning to Delilah, Liz had no idea. Once Delilah was completely dry Imran put her feeding bag, he had brought from their cart, over her nose. Leaving her happily tucking into her mix of grain and hay, Liz and Imran braved the rain again as they ran over to the larger of the three concrete buildings. Flicking off as much of the rain water as they could before entering, the two on them pushed open the door. Coming in, twenty worried faces turned in their direction.

*So that's at least two attacks in the area that we know of,' Charlie was saying as he sat at a small table sipping a cup of warming nettle tea.

Opposite him sat Patrick, on his shoulder rested the concerned hand of Helen, his girlfriend. Helen was a match for Patrick in looks. With her flawless ebony skin, long athletic limbs and beautiful green eyes, Helen looked every inch the warrior queen. Liz could see the anger and worry battling within Helen as Charlie told them of the murders. When Charlie told them about little Naomi, Liz noticed Helen subconsciously place her hand over her belly. It was only then that Liz realised Helen was about three months pregnant, her small b.u.mp noticeable once you knew to look for it. Liz thought that the combination of Helen and Patrick's genes would produce truly beautiful children.

*We haven't had any contact with the Penhaligans, can you show me on the map where they are...sorry, were' Patrick said, once Charlie had finished telling them all they knew.

*It's sad but they've no use for their supplies now, so you might as well have them, rather than leaving the stuff to rot' Charlie said, as Patrick un-folded a map in front of them.

Patrick and some of the other men huddled round the small table while Charlie showed them the route they would need to take to get to the Penhaligan home. Around them, worried conversations were whispered among the other community members.

*I think some congratulations may be in order,' Liz said, walking over to Helen.

*Sorry, what?' she replied, only realising Liz was talking to her, after an awkward pause.

*You are pregnant aren't you, Helen?' Liz repeated.

*Oh, yes. Sorry Liz, I was miles away,' she smiled *All this bad news, not a nice thing to hear. You'd think we'd get used to death by now after all these years.'

*Hmm, but only when it's the Dead doing the killing perhaps, and this definitely wasn't down to the Dead this time,' Liz said, shaking her head with a sigh.

*No, not this time,' Helen replied *Now, where are my manners. Let me get you some nettle tea. Imran would you like some too?'

*Thanks. Oh that reminds me, we brought some of jars of preserved fruit for you from the Penhaligans, I'll go get them.'

*No, you've already got one soaking tonight and I hear there were some of the Dead to deal with at the gate too... No, you stay here. I'll send Gabe,' she said.

With a flick of her hand towards the door a teenage boy jumped up. *And don't touch anything else or I'll feed you to the Dead myself,' she called after him, as Gabe disappeared through the door.

*He's new,' she said to Imran, *We found him in one of our fields trying to eat raw potatoes out of the dirt a few months ago. He's an ok kid. Just looking for a home like the rest of us I suppose.'

As Liz took the cup of warm nettle tea from Helen, she noticed a few other new faces in the room that hadn't been here the last time she had come to the Substation, but more importantly, some faces were missing. But that was the nature of the world they all now lived in. People could so easily die, not just at the hands of the Dead but of simple things too. With so few with any medical knowledge left in their world, a scratch could easily become infected and lead to fatal blood poisoning.

*We're meant to be collecting Emma O'Brien, do you know her? Anyway, Emma's about due to have her baby, so we're taking back to the Convent so Nadine can help with the birth,' Liz said *Yes, we've met the O'Briens. Nice couple,' Helen replied *They live by the coast don't they'

*Yes that's them, in an old police station,' Imran said, as he sipped his nettle tea, pulling a face at the strong brew.

Nettle tea was an acquired taste but it was very rich in vitamin C and other nutrients so he drank it anyway.

*Will you be coming to the Convent when you time is due too?' he continued.

*No, a couple of the women here have had children and a.s.sisted with births since all this happened, so I thought I'll stay here,' Helen said, subconsciously rubbing her belly again.

*Sounds like we'd be better bringing Emma here,' Liz said, smiling, *Well if you change your mind, you're more than welcome to come for a visit.'

With a bang, the door blew open, letting a gust of wind and a spray of cold rain into the room. Gabe, backing into the room, had the four jars of preserved fruits in his arms. Kicking the door closed behind him, he carried the jars to the small table in the room, amid excited murmurs from the other members of the community.

*Well there's a h.e.l.l of a lot more where that came from,' Charlie said. *The Penhaligan place had a lot of fruit trees and apparently Mrs Penhaligan had a talent for preserving.'

*You've certainly proved yourselves more than welcome visitors,' Helen said, gesturing towards the jars *Sad that it was at the Penhaligan family expense... but we'll put their supplies to good use here'

*Yes, and if there's anything you'd like in return, seems only fair,' Patrick said, as he picked up one of the jars full of golden peaches.

*No, it's fine,' Charlie began to say.

*Yes, there is actually,' Imran said, quickly b.u.t.ting in to Charlie's polite refusal. With a questioning look from Charlie, Imran continued, *you could always let us have a breeding pair of your piglets.'

*You've got pigs?' Charlie asked, surprised but thankful that Imran would think of asking for piglets for the Convent, even if his religion considered them forbidden food. *Where on earth did you get them?'

*You wouldn't believe it. We found them just walking in the woods, bold as bra.s.s. A boar and two sows,' Patrick said *Took us a while to catch them, mind.'

*And as both sows have had litters, we can give you one from each, so you don't have full blood siblings,' Helen said.

Even though the Substation community was just a group of collected individuals, it was clear Patrick and Helen were in charge. Just as Charlie had taken control of the general running of the Lanherne, each community needed a leader. When life was so precarious you couldn't have people pulling in different directions for their own personal gains. When you joined a community you just had to hope that the best person for the job was in control rather than just the strongest. They had seen many communities simply fall apart because a bully or small gang had forced their control on people.

*Thanks, and next time we come this way we'll bring Samson to service your mares, he's a strong stallion, so you should get some good colts out of him,' Charlie said, knowing the Substation were at a disadvantage having only female horses.

*Sounds like a plan,' Patrick replied.

Outside the storm had almost run its course. The thunder and lightning had moved on leaving only a light drizzle.

*Looks like the worst of the storm's pa.s.sed. We should be OK to go back up on the platforms. Now, let's find you three somewhere to sleep.' Patrick continued, as he looked out of the small window.

With a flurry of activity the community began to file through the door and make their way back to the pylon they called home. Smiling at the faces she recognised and nodding h.e.l.lo to those who were new to her, Liz followed Helen up the metal ramp.

*Don't you get fed up with all this?' Liz asked, as she pulled her jacket closer to her body while the wind buffeted around them.

*You get used to it I suppose,' Helen replied, *and anyway, this is the first place I've felt safe in years. Before I came here my life was f.u.c.king c.r.a.ppy believe me. If Patrick hadn't turned up at the last place I lived, I would still be being forced to wh.o.r.e myself to that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Adams, just to survive.'

Liz knew Helen's unpleasant story and didn't judge her at all for what she had been forced to do. Helen had found herself in one of the rougher communities. Her natural good looks had singled her out and she was soon commandeered as the girlfriend to an ex-prisoner, Adams. Once he had broken her spirit with a series of beatings, she realised there would be no escape from him, so tried to make the best of her lot. It wasn't until Patrick had intervened during a particularly pointless and harsh beating, that she was finally free of him. Patrick had killed Adams, protecting a woman he barely knew and had received the deep cut that had caused his scar in the process. With the top dog slot now open, many had a.s.sumed Patrick would want to take over. But he knew these people were tainted by the way they had chosen to live and would never be able to create here the home he wanted. So, leaving with Helen, and a half a dozen other like-minded people, they had left the barbaric community to their own devices, never looking back.

*This should be OK for you and Imran. Charlie said he was going to sleep in your cart. Doesn't he ever relax?' Helen said, as she stopped by a small wooden cabin on the first level, some fifteen meters above the ground. *There's a central fire going over there, so if you want some warmth in here, take a torch, and light the wood above the grate in the corner of the cabin.'

Liz looked in through the small door at the single room within. It was obviously a guest room as all that was inside was a double mattress on the floor. As Helen had said, in the corner was a metal box which could house a small fire for warmth. At the bottom of the box was a grill through which ash would fall to the ground below.

*Will you be going straight to the O'Brien's tomorrow?' Helen asked Imran, as Liz went off to get a torch of fire.

*No, we've got one more Outposter settlement to warn first. The odd little group that live on the small island in the middle of a lake, the Donaldson clan. Do you know them?' Imran replied.

*Yes, we know them and try not to have anything to do with them,' Helen said, with a sneer.

Imran knew what she was referring to. Mr Donaldson and his two brothers were a little too fond of each other's wives and children. He knew that more than one of their daughters had given birth to a child. So they must have been impregnated by either their own father or uncle. The place was a mess. The clan had descended into incest and who knew what else, but as Charlie had pointed out, the children were blameless, and for some of them, it was all they had ever known.

*Well, we'll give it a go anyway, not that they'll let us on the island.' Imran said.

The Donaldson clan didn't like people sticking their nose into things that didn't concern them, so were not the most friendly of neighbours to have.

*I don't envy you having to deal with them at all,' Helen said, as Liz returned with a small flaming torch *Anyway, I'll bid you goodnight and see you two in the morning before you set off.'

With a wave Helen began climbing a ladder to the next level, where she shared a cabin with Patrick. As Liz began to put kindling and twigs in the metal box to start their fire, Imran watched from the doorway as the same warm orange glow appeared at small windows in other cabins on their level. With a loud clicking noise two men began to winch the walkway up from the ground, cutting off those on the Pylon from any attack that may come below.

*Close the door Imran,' Liz said. *You're letting in a draught.'

Doing as he was told, Imran closed the door and came to sit next to Liz by the small fire that blazed in the metal box. Taking off some of their clothes and hanging them on hooks situated on the walls, Liz and Imran hoped to dry out some of the rain water before morning. With the small fire warming the cabin and curled up in each other's arms, Liz and Imran drifted off into uneasy sleep. The images of things they had seen that day playing across their minds as sleep claimed them.

DAY 3.

At some point while they slept, their small fire had dwindled and finally gone out, leaving the small cabin cold and smoky. Liz awoke with Imran's arms tightly wrapped around her from behind. As she opened her eyes to the gloomy darkness, she could feel his slow steady breathing on the back of her neck. If it wasn't for the pressure from her bladder demanding relief and the need to wash out the ashy taste in her mouth, she would happily have laid within this comforting embrace until Charlie called for them. But her bladder would not be ignored, so reluctantly she gently untangled herself from the arms about her and retrieved her only slightly damp clothes from by the fire. Once dressed she decided it was time she went in search of a toilet. As she opened the cabin's door a gust of wind managed to force its way through. With bleary eyes Imran lifted his head from the mattress.

*It's not morning already is it?' he asked, clearly wanting to go back to sleep, *I've had a terrible night's sleep. No matter where I put myself on this b.l.o.o.d.y mattress, I seemed to be in a draft.'

Imran slowly sat up moving his head from side to side as he rubbed his neck. Liz could not help but watch the way his smooth muscular body moved, his nipples becoming erect in the cold breeze. Fighting the urge to go back to bed and be with him, Liz glanced out through the door at the other small cabins on their level. From a few of them, smoke was already rising from the small fires within. Some of the Substation community were obviously up and starting to go about the business of a new day.

*Yep, looks like it's rise and shine time, sleeping beauty,' Liz said, as she stifled a yawn herself. *You can have a few minutes more while I go pee and then we better start getting ready for the off.'

With a long stretch to force the last remnants of sleep from her limbs, Liz walked off along the platform while Imran's grumbling faded behind her. She stopped at a small cabin similar to the one in which she and Imran had spent the night, in contrast this was brightly painted, and not only had a small window with a window box, but also a small hodgepodge looking greenhouse attached to one side. Outside of the front door sat a large man in his forties washing some rags in a bowl, which Liz could see on closer inspection may once have been white underwear.

*Hi, sorry to bother you but where's the toilet?' she asked.

*Round there on the right,' he replied, wringing out the particularly sorry looking pants. *If it's just a p.i.s.s you want, do it down the pipe. Anything else, in one of the plastic buckets and take it down with you to the pit, OK.'

*Thanks,' she said, with a nod.

The man returned her nod and pegged his still grubby looking underwear to a small line.

*At least this high up there was always some breeze so they wouldn't take long to dry,' she thought, walking past other small cabins on her way to the corner.

Each had been slightly modified reflecting the personalities of those within, trying to bring back a little of the normality of the life taken from them. One had its' wooden walls crudely painted in a red brick pattern, tomato plants growing either side of the door in pots, while another had white painted columns and an image of Atlas, his shoulders painted to look like they were supporting the weight of the window frame.

When she pa.s.sed the last cabin on that level she stopped. Covering every inch of the outside walls were small picture frames. Inside each frame, as though showing some priceless ancient artwork, were images from magazines and books of once everyday objects. Televisions, computers, coffee makers, vacuum cleaners and other electrical devices she only barely remembered, sat alongside faded biscuit wrappers, sun-bleached burger boxes, squashed flat shampoo bottles and a variety of other objects now consigned to the past. Looking through the small window she could see this mania was carried on inside too. The walls were plastered with old faded photographs, not of lost loved ones but of things. Someone had made their home into a shrine to a world that no longer existed. So desperate to make sure people did not forget these mundane oddities that they surrounded themselves daily with reminders of what they had lost. Liz wasn't sure it was very healthy for whoever lived here to hold onto their old life in such an obsessive manner. There was nothing anyone could do to bring that world back and people had to accept that. How could you live and work for a future, if you were so stuck in the past. She stood there for a few minutes looking from one frame to the next, each image sparking a long forgotten memory of her life with her parents. It was when her gaze fell on a picture of shiny sandwich toaster that she was instantly taken back to a time sitting with her smiling father, eating messy hot toasted cheese sandwich's in their small sunny kitchen, while her mother jokingly scolded him for buying the machine that would hardly ever be used and would just take up cupboard s.p.a.ce. Smiles, warmth and love seemed to envelope her as she lost herself to the memory.