Hamsikker 3

HAMSIKKER 3

A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE NOVEL

Russ Watts

This book is for whoever it is that keeps putting these crazy ideas in my head.

And to Karen, for keeping me sane.

“Your faith can be tested, but it’s how you deal with it that matters.”

Erik Lansky.

CHAPTER ONE

Foul skin sloughed off, falling away like slices of cold ham, sheets of pink rubbery flesh feeling cold and dead to the touch. Bishop withdrew his sword from the dead body, and made a hasty retreat. He had used a lot of energy in repelling their attack, and he knew he needed to get back before encountering another herd. It didn’t matter if there were five or five hundred. He knew when it was time to fall back. The hilltop had been a natural place to pause, and there was certainly nowhere better in the vicinity. The surrounding trees provided a natural barrier, and the river on the northern side meant there was only one way up or down the hill. It was a place he had used a couple of times previously without incurring any problem. This time, though, was different.

They had found him.

Bishop hoped to get back to base before nightfall, but with the extra weight, his horse was struggling in the heat. He still thought he could make it and still expected to do so. Nightfall was no time to be wandering around in the open anymore, but it was going to be a slog. The two people he had saved from Du Pue had been unconscious for a long while, and whilst he had wanted to push on, Black Jack needed a break. Anyway, it gave Bishop a good excuse to stretch his legs and refill his canteen with some fresh, cool water. He’d spent enough time on the hill to know the lay of the land, and he used a nearby stream for water on most of his trips. It was only as he was making his way back up the hill that he realized he was being followed. A group of the dead had unwittingly found his little base, and he’d spent the last thirty minutes taking them down.

Bishop could see beyond the tree line that there were more out there, and they wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t turn around, or wait; as long as he was on that hill, they would keep on coming. A small group of dead had found their way up through the trees, and with his two companions still out cold, he had fought the dead on his own. There was no point in trying to wake the others to help him. They didn’t have the energy to sit up on their own and were certainly in no shape to start taking on any zombies. Bishop trudged back to camp wondering if they were still sleeping. The woman had stirred a few times as they’d travelled, and Bishop had done what he could, making sure she was comfortable and reassuring her that she was safe. Still, she was pale, and looked like she needed a good feed. Since leaving Du Pue, the man with her hadn’t woken at all, probably for the best. His injuries were severe, and whenever the woman had woken, Bishop had checked to see if the man was still breathing. He had taken a hell of a beating and needed a lot more attention than was available right now.

Bishop stopped and unsheathed his sword. A branch snapped up ahead close to where he had left the other two under the shelter of a bush and near to Black Jack. It couldn’t be a zombie. No way had any of them gotten past him. He knew it wasn’t his horse either. He’d left Black Jack tied up securely. No, this was the sound of someone walking, slowly, toward him. Bishop slid himself behind the trunk of a large oak tree and pressed his back against the cold bark. He wasn’t about to take any chances and breathed out slowly. Taking in his surroundings, he became acutely aware of everything, every noise and smell that was around him. The patchwork canopy of the trees above provided some shelter from the sun and cast a plethora of shadows across the dry ground that was covered in broken twigs, moss, and crisp, dead leaves. The wildlife had long disappeared from the area. He hadn’t seen or heard a bird, and if there were any mice or rabbits, they were safely tucked away in their homes.

“I know, Annalise, I know,” he said quietly.

Another crack indicated that whoever was coming was getting closer. Bishop steadied himself. Whoever was approaching was making sure they were doing so as quietly as possible. He knew enough to realize that when someone snuck up on you, it was usually a bad sign. Nobody sprang out to give you a surprise party anymore. He could tell the noise was coming from the east perhaps as little as ten or twelve feet away. A low rustling sound became more apparent, and he realized they were dragging their feet. Damn, he had been so sure he had got them all. Bracing his feet, he wrapped his fingers tightly around the scabbard, and prepared to strike. He wanted to let them get as close as possible so he could take them down with one strike. He counted down in his head, slowly, breathing calmly as he did so. Three, two, one…

There was a slight shift in the air, almost imperceptible, as Bishop swung the sword. It was as if the blade could slice through the very atoms themselves, and if it hadn’t been for the scream, he would’ve taken off the woman’s head with barely a sound.

The sword thudded into the oak tree, and Bishop stepped back. “Damn, I thought you were out for the count.” Relief flooded through him, though he was still on edge. He had very nearly decapitated the very woman he was trying to save. He pulled his sword free and tucked it back in its sheath. “You okay?”

Dakota was trembling. “Jesus, I thought you were one of them. I woke up and heard noises, and I thought… Jesus.” She leant against the tree, suddenly feeling very tired.

“All right, hold on girl.” Bishop put an arm around her, helping her stay on her feet. “You know, you really shouldn’t be walking around out here. It ain’t safe. We did have company, but I took care of it. For now, anyways.”

Dakota looked at Bishop’s face. It felt familiar, and she remembered he had tended to her over the last couple of hours. She remembered the visions, the nightmares, and the smell of the dead, but most of all she remembered his voice. His warm, deep voice had been soothing, kind; whoever this man was, he had taken care of her.

“Look, we need to get you away from here. You okay to walk?” Bishop asked.

Dakota merely nodded and let him guide her back to the camp.

“Just what were you going to do anyway?” Bishop could see the woman was unarmed. She held a small stone in her hand, but she dropped it as they made their way back up the hill. “You need to rest. You don’t need to worry about what’s out there in the woods. I’ve got your back.”

“Who…who are you?” Dakota felt like she could trust this man, at least as much as she could trust anyone anymore. Javier and Rose had destroyed much of her faith in mankind, and it would take more than a few kind words to make her accept anyone else at just face value. Still, it seemed like he was good. For now, she knew that she had no choice, and she let him help her walk. The ground was a tangled mess of broken branches, and it would be easy to fall. She hadn’t really paid attention to the direction she had come from and was feeling quite disorientated. “Just where are we?”

“Well, the first one I can answer, easy. The name’s Bishop. I like to think I’m just a regular guy, nobody special. I’m a survivor, so I guess that make me something, anyway. I don’t quite know what else to tell you. There was a time when you were defined by your job or your family. Now that’s all gone, what is left? Are we survivors? Killers? When we have more time, I’d be happy to fill in the blanks, but we really need to hit the road. This was just a stopgap. These woods offer us a little protection, but it’s no more than a rest stop between A and B.”

“A and B?” asked Dakota. She was regretting getting up now and beginning to feel dizzy. If felt like her blood was sluggish, and she hoped they were going to be back to the man’s camp soon so she could lie down.

“Well, A is where I found you. Lucky for you, I was close by. That whole area is teeming with the dead. Quite what was going on between you and the others I don’t know, but the fellow who drove off in the van sure was happy to leave you for dead. Didn’t seem right to just abandon you like that, so here we are.” Bishop noticed the woman was tiring. “B is somewhere safe. I’ll get us there; don’t you worry about that. If we get going, there’s no reason we can’t get back to base before evening. Say, mind if I ask your name?”

“Dakota.”

The path suddenly cleared, and they were back with Black Jack and Hamsikker, both resting quietly, both unaware of the fight with the dead that Bishop had just had.

“And that man you’re travelling with?” asked Bishop.

Dakota hesitated. Should she put all her trust in this stranger? What if he was a liar just like Javier? A thousand scenarios ran through her head, all of them involving Bishop killing them in some way.

“That’s Jonas, my husband. Everyone calls him Hamsikker.”

“I got no argument with that. Well, listen up, Dakota, I’m going to have to get you two up onto Black Jack with me quick sharp. We hang around out here much longer, and…”

“Bishop, right?” Dakota stopped as they neared Jonas. She looked at her husband. His face looked terrible; covered in cuts and bruises, he barely looked like the man she had married. “Bishop, just know this. If you screw us over, if you so much as harm a hair on my husband’s head, I will kill you. I promise you that much.”

Bishop frowned. “I hear you, and I got no problem with that either. I don’t doubt you’ve been through some shit, and I ain’t gonna pretend I haven’t too. I’ll make you a promise. I’m not going to hurt you or your husband. When I see folk in trouble, I help out. That’s who I am. There are enough problems in this world for folks to deal with without me adding to their worries.”

“Okay then,” said Dakota.

“Okay then,” said Bishop, and he smiled. “Dakota, you ridden a horse before? If you’re happy to ride with me, I’ll make sure your husband is strapped on securely with us. I’ll make sure he won’t fall off.”

Dakota nodded. “I’ve ridden before, but not so much lately. When I was a girl I used to make my Daddy take me out to this ranch at weekends. We could never afford our own horse, so we used to go and just hang out all day there, so I could feed ‘em and ride ‘em. There was this one horse, Nancy I called her, and her coat was pure black. I loved her a lot.”

Bishop hoisted Jonas up onto the back of Black Jack, and Dakota noticed how he lifted Jonas gently, careful not to hurt him. It seemed like he was genuine, and when he spoke he appeared to be speaking the truth. She couldn’t help but feel there was something more, though, that he hadn’t told her, something more to this man’s story. Why was he riding out alone in an area that he himself admitted was teeming with zombies? Why was he helping them? Was he expecting something in return? Dakota walked up to Black Jack and patted her flank. The horse clearly had a good temper and was standing patiently while Bishop got things ready. Dakota rubbed her fingers through the horse’s coarse brown hair and was taken back to her childhood. The smell of the horse took her back to the ranch when she was a young girl. It took her back to a time when her parents were still alive, and life was much simpler. Now everything was complicated, and her friends were dead. She looked at Jonas and grimaced. How could Javier do that? How could he beat a man half to death and leave them? Javier wasn’t even human. He was halfway to Canada now, and he had Freya hostage. What a mess.

“He’ll be okay,” said Bishop, seeing Dakota looking at her husband. He had no medical expertise and really didn’t know if Jonas would pull through. “We’ll get him back and then see if we can patch him up. I have some supplies back at base. Come on.”

Bishop mounted Black Jack, and Dakota climbed on up behind him. She put her arms around Bishop’s waist, and rested her head on his back. It was the closest she had been to another man in a long time. It almost felt like holding on to her father again. Bishop was tender and kind, but strong. He spoke well, and she wondered what kind of man he had been before all of this, before the zombies had appeared.

“Why do you keep saying base?” asked Dakota.

“Huh, what’s that?” Bishop turned Black Jack around, and they began to trot down the path away from the hilltop. Bishop kept one eye open for zombies. They lurked in the trees and could be hidden from sight right until the last second.

“You haven’t said we’re going home. You said we’re going back to base. Are you a soldier? Is there an army base somewhere nearby?”

“A soldier?” Bishop laughed quietly. “No, Dakota, I am definitely
not
a soldier. There’s also no army base near here, least no working ones anyway. They were all overrun a long time ago. There’s no army around here. Hell, there’s no army left, full stop.”

“Oh. I see,” said Dakota.

Dakota sounded flat, despondent, and Bishop knew she didn’t see. “You realize that what happened here wasn’t just a localized event, right?”

“We spent a long time in Erik’s house. We figured things had gone bad, but we weren’t sure just how bad.”

“Erik?”

“An old friend.” Dakota wondered how Erik was doing. He would do anything to protect Freya, she knew that, but was he capable anymore? Would Javier just kill him like he had Terry and Mrs. Danick? It hurt to think about it, and Dakota felt utterly powerless. She had lost almost everything. She had lost Pippa, her friends, and now she was stuck on the back of a horse with a stranger taking her God knows where, with Jonas half dead.

“Well, for the record, what happened here, happened everywhere. The dead came back. Boy, did they come back. It was all over in a few days. I don’t truly know how many people are still alive, but now and again I come across some folks like you. I help them get where they’re going, one way or another.”

“So the whole of America and Canada? There’s nothing left?” Dakota tried to imagine the streets of New York empty. She tried to picture Disneyland without hordes of laughing children, to see the shopping malls deserted, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t believe that everything had gone.