The Dying & The Dead 1: Post Apocalyptic Survival (3 page)

Since
they had come to live with him, Dale had only ever seen Luna had one fit. She
used to have them all the time, Stephanie had told him, but they were getting
fewer and she hoped she was growing out of them. That didn’t help now, though.
It was the worst possible time for it to happen.

Stephanie
ran her hands through her hair. There was nothing else she could do. No way to
pretend, no way out of it. She took hold of Luna’s mask and removed it. She
opened her daughter’s mouth and stuck her own fingers inside and made sure she
hadn’t swallowed her tongue.

Dale
stepped forward. He knew what was going to happen now. Luna would be taken, and
the Capita would expect her to fall into a coma. They’d wait and see if she
became infected. Only, that wouldn’t happen. They would find out Luna was
immune, and Dale had heard the stories of what would happen next. He couldn’t
let her be taken to the Capita on her own.

“Okay,”
he said. “We’re immune. Me and Luna. Kids always get it off their parents and,
well, she got it from me. My lad didn’t get it.”

Charles
moved forward and stood alongside Dale. He put a heavy arm across his shoulders
and waved a finger in the air.

“But
it’s not always from parents, is it Dale? There’s another way one can become immune.”

“What?”

“I
digress. I don’t really believe your story. No. This is a classic case of a man
trying to be a martyr. It’s scary, trying to be a martyr. Do you know what
happens in the Capita, Dale? Is your mind conjuring up dark images? Dungeons,
torture, experiments? I think you’re brave. You’re stupid, but you’re brave.”

He
looked up at Stephanie.

“Take
off your mask, darling.”

Stephanie
stood up from Luna’s side and backed away from the bounty hunter. Charles
walked up to her. He reached out and took her by the throat, his gloved hand
wrapping around her neck and stopping the flow of air.

Suddenly
Dale’s chest burst with electricity and he felt adrenaline spill into his
veins. He couldn’t watch Charles’s hand close around Stephanie's throat. The
sight of it set a flare inside him. He rushed at the bounty hunter.

Charles
turned, swung his fist and connected with Dale’s nose. Dale fell to the floor
and a fuzzy pain spread through his face. If the pain in his cheeks weren’t
enough, a feeling of shame spread through him. He couldn’t protect his family.
The Capita wanted them, and Dale couldn’t protect them.

Charles
grabbed Stephanie’s mask and pulled it away from her face. Stephanie’s skin was
chalk, her confidence gone as the reality of the situation hit her. Her usually
red lips looked drained of colour like she’d been walking in a blizzard.

“This
man isn’t the children’s father, is he?” said Charles.

Stephanie
didn’t speak. Charles wrapped his gloved hand tighter around her neck, a farmer
wringing the neck of a chicken. He moved his arm and slowly lifted Stephanie
off the ground with an impossible show of strength. She spluttered. She swung
her feet in the air as though trapped in a noose.

“Do
you want your children to see their mother murdered in front of them?”

Stephanie
shook her head furiously.

“Then
tell me. Is he the children’s father?”

“No,”
she choked out.

The
bounty hunter relaxed his grip and let Stephanie touch the ground. He wiped his
hand on his coat, and Stephanie’s spit left a streak on the leather.

“Sorry
about that. But needs must.”

He waved
his gloved hand in the air. There was movement across the field, and a few
minutes later a horse and cart galloped to meet them. A driver directed the
horse by pulling on black reigns, and on the back were four soldiers clad in Capita
uniforms. Three of them had the blank stares of disciplined soldiers, but one
looked at the terrified family with curiosity.

The
fog cleared from Dale’s vision. He put a hand on the ground and pushed himself
to his feet. The wind had picked up again, and it blew against cheeks that felt
flushed with anger. How had his special day changed so suddenly? His future had
changed from an open plain to a darkened maze.

Charles
turned to his men.

“Take
the woman and the children to the farms.”

“What
about the man?”

“Take
his mask off. Let him smell the air one last time and then kill him.”

Dale
couldn’t let them be taken. Not now that they were a family, not when he
finally believed that Stephanie felt the same about him. For years after the
outbreak he had searched for a meaning to survival, and now he had found it. He
couldn’t let Charles take it from him.

He
threw himself at the soldier nearest to him and swung a punch at the underside
of the man’s jaw. He grabbed hold of the machete in the soldier’s hand and took
it in his own. Another soldier, the curious one, ran at him. Dale swung his weapon
and the metal scratched across the soldier’s cheek, tearing his skin open.
Blood bubbled through the cut, and the man put his hand to his face and cried
out. A different soldier pointed across the meadow.

“Sir,
the boy!”

In the
commotion Eric had taken off across the field and was running through the grass
as fast as he could. As he sped out of sight his mask slipped from his face. He
stopped and picked it up from the ground. He gave one last look back at his
family.

Dale wanted
to shout at him to run, and to be safe. Before he could even open his mouth he
felt something blunt smash down on the back of his head. His eyes rolled up in
their sockets, and the meadow began to fade away into darkness. He struggled
against the black and tried to fight for his consciousness but it slipped from
his grip.

“What
do we do about the boy?” he heard someone ask.

Charles’s
voice spoke in answer.

“Let
him go. We’ll round him up eventually. We always do.”

1

Ed Furness

Golgoth Island, 2 miles away from the
mainland

Ed
stood at the edge of the cliff and watched the dark waves as they crashed into
the rocks. Back and forth they came, grinding against the chalk and carrying
some of it away with them. Ed had wasted every damn second of his life. If he took
a small step forward - not even a jump was needed, just a little step - what
would be left? Someday the waves would grind Golgoth Island away without a
trace, and what of Ed would ever be found? He hadn’t accomplished anything. His
family were gone. He spoke to nobody, did nothing of any importance. If a
complete history of the world was ever written, Ed's life would barely get a
sentence.

A twenty-foot
wave crashed against the cliffs, the frothy tip straining to reach Ed. He
tasted salt in the air, and felt the rain patter onto his forehead and run down
his face. They’d all have to leave Golgoth one day and go to the mainland. Probably
not due to the erosion, because that would take decades to claim the island.
The problem was that their crops were failing. There was no medicine, and it
wasn’t as if they could just order a delivery. Golgoth’s strength was its
remoteness, but in the end its isolation would damn it.

A grey
cloud spread across the sky, and below the cliffs another wave smashed into the
stone. Ed remembered the newscasts, back when his TV worked. The pictures of
the infected; eyes grey, dead. Mouths opening to scream or to bite. The
infected were akin to the tide, in a way. No sooner did one wave leave than
another replaced it. They were relentless, devouring everything in their path.

Sometimes
he thought about taking that little step forward off the edge, but not right
now. He’d do it when the tide was gone. If he did it while the tide was strong
there was a chance he’d die by drowning, and he preferred the idea of his head
hitting the ground. Instant oblivion seemed much nicer than slow agony as salt
water poured down his throat and into his lungs.

How did
James feel when he drowned? Had Ed’s brother’s life flashed in front of him? As
he spluttered on the sea water did he scream for their long-dead mother? Maybe
he cried out for their father. He hadn’t been dead as long, but he was already
a memory fading into the void where even the most familiar of faces became
impossible to recall.

“Looks
to be a mean one,” said a voice.

He
turned and saw the woman who lived in the house closest to his.

“Hi
Elizabeth.”

“Close.
It’s Bethelyn. But don’t worry, we’ve only lived next to each other for eight
years.”

He
sighed. He knew he was being rude, but he couldn’t help it. Sometimes he
wondered what was wrong with him.

“Sorry,
Bethelyn.”

“Don’t
worry, I get it. I know it’s been tough for you.”

As the
wind shrieked in his ear and rain ran into his coat and down his back, it
struck him that Bethelyn’s voice was the warmest thing for miles. It made him
want to get away from her. To go home, shut his front door and twist the key.

Bethelyn
joined him at the cliff side. He expected the height of the drop to make her
shaky, but she didn’t even look down.

“Apparently
some scientist did a study on Golgoth once,” she said, tucking her hands into
her pockets. “They found that the sea claims a foot of the island a year.
Imagine that. Soon enough this place will be drowned.”

The
wind dropped for a second as if her words had given it something to think
about, but soon it started wailing louder than before, and the rain came down
heavier. The island was gloomy as hell at night time, and Ed couldn’t help but
think it contributed to his own disposition. He knew what he was; a miserable
arsehole. Knowing something about yourself didn’t mean you could necessarily do
anything about it.

Bethelyn
looked at him. “Do you think anyone will be around to see it when it goes?”

“Maybe.
Not sure if they’d be the lucky ones or not.”

She
scrunched her nose up as a rain drop hit her. “You’re a barrel of laughs,” she
said.

“Sorry
Bethelyn. I came here to be alone.”

“Alone
from who? You live by yourself.”

“This
place just feels more alone than others.”

She
nodded. “I know. I’ve seen you. Listen, Ed, I was wondering. The storm’s gonna
hit us head on. There’s a few slates loose on my roof and I don’t need rain
soaking through. I could do with someone getting up there.”

“I
don’t think so.”

“I
wouldn’t normally ask, but I need the help.”

***

If it
were the sort of word Ed would ever say, he would have described Bethelyn’s
living room as cosy. On a table in the centre of the room a dozen tiny candles
burnt and cast an orange glow over the walls. On the west wall a fire hissed
and chewed through the logs that Bethelyn had set on it. Everything was in its
place but out of it at the same time, a sort of orchestrated chaos. On a
bookshelf by the windowsill some books were stood up, and others were on their
sides as though they had fallen down. Despite their haphazard arrangement, they
were grouped together by the colour of their spines.

A girl
lay across from him on a couch that had cushions so old that they would have
sagged under the slightest weight. She ignored Ed, instead moving her head
slightly as she scanned down the pages of a book. Ed leaned forward and caught
sight of the cover; a giant rat with blood-stained fangs. He looked over at the
bookcase and saw that the books so carefully messed up were all horror novels.
The girl looked too young for that kind of reading. She turned her head and saw
Ed staring at her. She put the book down next to her and sat up, tucking her
legs against her chest and her hands over her knees.

“That
was dad’s chair you know,” she said.

Ed
stood up. “Sorry, should I move?”

“No,
it’s okay.”

The
door opened and Bethelyn stepped in from the darkness of the hallway. She carried
a tray with a bowl in the centre, plumes of steam circling up from it.

“Thanks
for the roof,” she said, and sniffed as steam hit her nose. “Glad to have a
neighbour like you.”

Ed
shuddered. Fixing the roof slates had been a cold, water-drenched job, and he’d
nearly slipped off twice. The slates were slippery and the rain had clattered
down onto them, but not many had dislodged. By the time he was done, Ed’s coat
was heavy with water.

He
took another look at the living room. The walls were cream and in places bore
the signs of holes that had been filled in. A step ladder rested against a
wall, and under the table, nearly tucked out of sight, was a toolbox. Something
was wrong here.

“You
could have fixed the roof yourself, couldn’t you?” he said.

Bethelyn
bent to put the tray down. A few centimetres from the table she stumbled and
the tray nearly tipped, but she caught it at the last second. She stood up
straight and wiped her hand on her jumper.

“I
don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You
could have gone up there yourself and sorted the slates.” He looked at the
toolbox again. “I see what’s going on here. You wanted to give me something to
do.”

“Nope.”

“Come
on, Bethelyn.”

She
took a deep breath and let it out with a huff.

“Fine.
Course I could have got up there, it’s not exactly difficult. And I wouldn’t
have taken so long pissing around as you did, either. I was just worried about
you. I know we haven’t spoken much, but times like these you need to look out
for your neighbours. You’ve haven’t had a hot meal in weeks I bet, and I know
you’ve been alone since your brother went.”

Ed
looked at the girl who sat on the couch quietly watching them. Her face was
dotted with freckles, and she had an expression that made her seem permanently
on the verge of mischief.

“What’s
your name?”

She
smiled. “April,” she said.

“Like
the month?”

“No,
like the animal,” the girl said, rolling her eyes.

“She’s
a cheeky one,” said Ed.

Bethelyn
pushed the wooden table toward Ed, and the closer it got the stronger the smell
of the stew became. His stomach ached for it. Lately he’d been eating raw
carrots and leeks from the patch at the back of his house. He wasn’t much of a
gardener; that had been dad’s thing. With James and dad gone Ed had developed
green fingers out of necessity, because he didn’t want to starve.

“Don’t
change the subject,” Bethelyn said, straining as she pushed the table toward
him.

Ed
picked up the spoon and dipped it into the bowl. As he turned it through the
yellow-brown liquid he saw vegetables swimming in it. There were carrots,
cauliflower, onions and mushrooms. Bethelyn’s gardens must have been doing
well. Maybe she knew something the rest of the village didn’t. He scooped up a
spoonful and lifted it to his lips. He was about to drink when he saw April’s
brown eyes staring at him.

“Help
you?” he said.

“She’s
just curious,” said Bethelyn. “She’s always asking about you.”

“What
are you reading?” said Ed.

Bethelyn
stepped around the table and sat next to her daughter.

“Changing
the subject again,” she said.

April
tucked her legs closer to her chest. Sat next to her mother, she looked a
miniature version of her. Both had hair that curled so much it was almost
unkempt, but something told Ed that it was a look carefully cultivated. April’s
eyes were a darker shade than her mother’s.

“How
come you’re always on your own?” said April.

Ed put
the spoon down into the bowl. He waited for Bethelyn to say something to her
daughter, but she didn’t. The question felt a little too personal, maybe even
rude. Bethelyn should have told her daughter that the question was too cutting
to ask a guy who was basically a stranger.

“Don’t
you get lonely?” asked April.

Ed got
to his feet. Outside the rain hammered on the window and tried to get in. A
hurricane swirled outside, ready to sweep away all the people and houses of
Golgoth. If the sea didn’t claim them, the weather would. He’d never seen it
this bad before.

“You
got any tape?” he said.

Bethelyn
smiled. “Do you need to wrap me a present?”

“I mean
masking tape. Duct tape.”

She
leant forward and pulled her toolbox from under the table. Metal screwdrivers
and wrenches clanged as she rummaged through them, and black oil stained her
fingers. Finally she pulled away a half-used roll of tape. She tossed it over
to Ed.

“What
do you need it for?”

He
walked over to the window and stared into the darkness outside. A hundred feet
away was the cliff edge, and below it was the tide. The night sky was a tarmac
swamp, and the wind whined as though it was in pain. He stretched the roll of
tape across the window first vertically and then horizontally, dividing the
larger glass into smaller sections.

“This
will stop it smashing into pieces,” he said.

“Think
it’ll be that bad?”

“Rat
Lair 2 starts off with a big storm,” April informed them.