Autumn: Aftermath Page 25

  45

  How the hell had he missed that?

  Will Bayliss looked across the castle courtyard. It was pitch black—still the middle of the night—but he was sure he’d seen something moving over by the prefabricated buildings. Jas, Mel, Paul Field, and Ainsworth were in one of the caravans, trying to keep warm and arguing about what they were going to do next. Jas, who seemed to rapidly be losing touch with the rest of them, was trying to lay down the law and tell them exactly how things were going to be—how they were going to leave the castle before morning and track Kieran and the rest of those fuckers down. Bayliss had had enough. Who the hell did Jas think he was? About twenty minutes ago he’d used the excuse of going for a piss to get out of the caravan for a while. He’d have stayed out longer if it hadn’t been so bloody cold.

  He was about to go back inside, but the glimpse of movement over the way had stopped him in his tracks. That was them, it had to be. The dumb bastards hadn’t seen him either. He slipped back into the caravan.

  “Where’ve you been?” Mel asked. Bayliss ignored her.

  “Found them, Jas,” he said, grinning. “They’re in the gift shop.”

  * * *

  The five of them crept slowly around the perimeter wall, two coming from one side, three from the other.

  “Stupid fuckers,” Jas said. “What were they thinking? Why go to all that effort, then just hide in the bloody gift shop? Fucking morons.”

  Ainsworth crept along behind him. He desperately wanted to see her again. There were just a handful of people left alive now, and all he wanted was to see just one of them. He wanted to tell Lorna how sorry he was and how he’d understood why she’d done what she had.

  Jas stopped just short of the gift shop door, and gestured for Bayliss, Field, and Melanie to stop on the other side. He had one of the rifles with him, and by God, this time he thought he might actually use it. He rushed forward, pumped full of adrenaline, and kicked the door open.

  Then he stopped.

  Corpses began lurching toward him, and he backed away in horror as they spilled out of the open door and flooded into the courtyard. Even in the pitifully low light the full extent of their danger was immediately apparent. These creatures were stronger than all the others he’d seen on the other side of the castle wall, less decayed and more controlled. Had they been hiding? Waiting for him?

  “The dead!” he screamed. “The dead are inside!”

  Ainsworth tried to drag him away. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Jas remained rooted to the spot, the corpses drawing ever closer. Ainsworth looked up and saw the other three running for cover. Were they heading back to the caravans? No, it looked like they had other plans. They were heading for the van which had been parked across the gate to block the entrance. And now someone was opening the gate …

  “Wait!” he yelled, but they ignored him. He started to run, but then looked back at Jas, who had hardly moved. The nearest of the dead had lifted their arms and were almost upon him now, ready to attack. He looked back again when he heard an engine starting. The van moved with sudden speed, skidding around in a tight circle, then driving straight out through the open gate and into the decay outside. It was impossible to see what was happening from here, but Ainsworth knew the dead would no doubt be pouring in through the gate too. After standing strong for so long, the castle was about to be overthrown.

  He grabbed Jas by the arm and pulled him away. Jas was terrified. Ainsworth couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone look so scared. “Come on, Jas. We have to get out of here.”

  46

  Freezing cold and disorientated, Michael, Lorna, Harte, and the others were struggling to keep moving.

  “Where now?” Howard asked, teeth chattering.

  “We need to find somewhere to shelter and get some fresh clothes. We’re going to get hypothermia if we don’t,” Kieran said.

  “You know the area better than the rest of us,” Harte said. “Where do you suggest?”

  “I’m not sure,” he replied unhelpfully. “I need to work out where we’ve come out in relation to the front of the castle. There are a couple of villages nearby. A few other places, maybe. But we don’t want to be walking all night in the wrong direction and…”

  Kieran’s voice trailed away. Michael was immediately concerned. “Problem?”

  “Shh…” he said. “Listen.”

  Everyone became completely silent. In the near distance they could hear an engine.

  “Who’s that?” Caron asked.

  “More of your lot coming back for us?” Lorna suggested.

  “I doubt it,” Michael replied, wishing he could be more positive. “Even if it is, fat lot of good it’s going to do us. They’ll check out the castle, but they won’t bother searching the area, will they? It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack. If I know Harry, he’ll be doing exactly what he said he’d do, and that’s getting those people over to Cormansey.”

  “What if it’s Jas?” Caron asked anxiously.

  “Do you really think he’ll still be interested in us?”

  “I don’t know. But what if he is?”

  “Then we’ll deal with it. Right now we’ve got a more pressing problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Getting back across a mile or so of dead bodies.”

  47

  When Harry arrived back in Chadwick, he was relieved to see the silhouette of the helicopter perched on top of the multistory car park. He drove the truck along increasingly familiar roads toward the marina. His passengers remained almost completely silent.

  Zoe, sitting up front between Harry and Bob, stared in disbelief at the dead world they were traveling through, a stream of tears rolling down her cheeks. She knew Chadwick well—she’d had digs in the town since starting at university—and she could make out more than enough of it tonight to be able to appreciate the full extent of its remarkable deterioration. Being back in Chadwick hurt.

  She hadn’t left the confines of the castle since the rescue of the others from the hotel near Bromwell. On that first morning when everyone else had died, she’d been stopping at the house of a friend who’d lived a couple of miles from the castle, and this was the first time she’d been back anywhere near home since her nightmare had begun. She’d been too scared to try getting back to her flat back then, and so had remained in her friend Sally’s house, with only Sally’s corpse for company. She’d tried phoning family and other friends tirelessly, but no one had answered and then the line had stopped connecting, and then her mobile signal had died. She’d stayed where she was for a while—unaware that there were other survivors so close—until she’d woken up one morning and found dead Sally standing over her. She’d thrown the body of her dead friend out of her own home and barricaded herself in for weeks until she’d heard Kieran and Jackson out looting and tracked them back to the castle.

  It had been obvious from the very beginning that there would have been no point trying to get home because all that Zoe would have found would have been the bodies of her loved ones, but that didn’t stop her suddenly feeling as guilty as hell today.

  Zoe remembered back to the Saturday before all of this had begun. She’d been to the gym first thing, and had then met up with Sally and Trish, a friend from uni. Sally had picked her up in her cool little red Peugeot, and they’d parked in the multistory where the helicopter had landed today. The three of them had walked through town together to the marina where they’d had lunch in one of the waterfront cafés. They’d spent the whole afternoon talking about nothing—stuff so trivial and inconsequential that she couldn’t even begin to remember any of it now. Nothing had mattered back then. The biggest stresses in her life had been getting her assignments finished, turning up to lectures on time, and trying to make her overdraft last until the next installment of her student loan came in.

  The truck turned a familiar corner. On the opposite side of the road to them now was a billboard advertising some new hair pr
oduct Zoe had long since forgotten about. Christ, she’d had such a laugh when she’d last been here. Trish had been such a gullible cow, she remembered. She used to believe anything anyone told her. She’d been babbling constantly about how the shampoo she used was better than the one being advertised on the hoarding, because 72 percent of women said they preferred it according to what it said on the bottle. Silly sod had always been suckered in by adverts, but she’d never have it. It’s science, she kept trying to convince them, science and statistics. You can’t argue with facts!

  The billboard advert was still there—just—but it had faded quite badly. The edges had curled, and one vertical strip of paper had been torn away, half of the model’s face now missing. Got to try and forget about all that now, she told herself. It’s all gone. Zoe shook her head and tried to look anywhere but at the street she’d walked along with her friends that last Saturday afternoon. It was covered with the remains of dead people now—some of the people she’d walked alongside that day, perhaps—and some of them were still moving ever so slowly forward. Everything you remember is gone, and you’re never going to get it back again.

  What was left of the population of Chadwick caused Harry little concern this morning. They were too slow and too badly decayed to pose any real threat anymore. Beyond what looked like a low hillock formed entirely of body parts—the remains of the crowd which had been drawn to the marina by the sounds of the living—he could see the road which would take them down to the edge of the water. He swerved around what was left of the corpses and continued until he was as close as he could get to where the Duchess was moored. At the sound of the approaching engine, Richard appeared on the jetty.

  Harry stopped and his frightened, bewildered passengers piled out.

  “Well done, mate,” Richard said, shaking Harry’s hand. He could immediately tell from Harry’s expression and his less than enthusiastic response that all was not well. “Problem?”

  “This isn’t everyone,” he said. “We got in okay, got this lot loaded into the truck, then it all went shit-shaped. There was nothing I could do. They were firing at us. I had to get out.”

  Richard looked anxiously along the expectant faces which had gathered on the jetty. “Michael?”

  Harry shook his head. “Don’t know what happened to him. Harte too. I lost the pair of them.”

  The two men stood and stared at each other in silence for a moment longer, both thinking the same thing.

  “We talked about this,” Richard said. “We knew there was a chance it might happen.”

  “I know that, but it doesn’t make it any easier, does it?”

  “What do we do now?” Zoe asked. Harry took her arm and pointed out their boat.

  “Get everything and everybody loaded up onto the Duchess.”

  “What about…?” she started to ask, not bothering to finish her obvious question.

  “What do you think?” Harry asked Richard. “We can’t just give up on them and ship out.”

  “I don’t like it any more than you do,” Richard said, “but we both know that’s exactly what we have to do. It’s what we agreed last night. It’s what we all agreed.”

  “I know, but—”

  “But nothing. We agreed.”

  Harry knew he was right. “Do me a favor before we ship out, though,” he said hopefully.

  “What?”

  “One last flyover. Just a quick look. It’s the least we owe Emma.”

  Richard thought carefully before answering.

  “Okay. It’ll be dawn in a few more hours. We’ll wait until the light breaks.”

  48

  Over the months the castle had been completely encircled with dead flesh. The thought of having to hike back across it had filled both Michael and Harte with dread, but the reality had proved to be less of an ordeal than they’d expected, certainly no worse than what they’d just been through underneath the castle. That had actually proved to be good preparation for trudging through the ankle-deep, frost-encrusted, once-human slime outside. It was somehow easier the second time around.

  They felt strangely invisible—a good thing if Jas did decide to come looking for them. In the low light of early morning, the living were hard to distinguish from the decayed remains they were walking through. And they were all still soaked with decay from their castle escape too. All they needed to do, should Jas or any of his cronies appear, was stand still and wait until they disappeared again.

  Michael looked back over his shoulder at the castle they’d somehow managed to escape from, then at the ragtag group of people who were following him, picking their way through the carnage. He could tell a lot about each of them by the way they were dealing with what they were walking through tonight. Harte and Kieran were stomping through the slime, exhausted and just desperate to get across to the other side in the shortest time possible. Howard was constantly grumbling. Seriously unfit, he spent more time looking for a dog he’d told Michael he’d lost than he did trying to get away from the remains of the dead. He placed the two women at opposite extremes. Caron was infuriating; the slowest of all, she was constantly moaning about the dirt under her nails and asking how long they had left to go, like an irritating kid stuck in the back seat of the family car. Lorna, on the other hand, was strong and unflappable and kept Caron in check. She was clearly tough, so much so that he wouldn’t have fancied his chances against her in a fistfight.

  Michael caught her eye, then looked away. He turned back when he realized she’d stopped. Something had caught her attention. Her head was raised and she remained perfectly still, like an animal sniffing the air for a scent.

  “Problem?” he asked.

  “Don’t think so.”

  “What, then?”

  “See that house over there?”

  Michael squinted into the dark. It took him a few seconds to spot the building she was referring to. In the predawn gloom, it was just another dark shape among many. He was soon able to make out its walls and roof. Harte was too.

  “I see it,” he said. “What’s the problem?”

  “Oh, there’s no problem,” she casually replied. “There’s a light on in one of the windows, that’s all.”

  * * *

  Suddenly revitalized, the group moved at speed toward the house in the distance. The nearer they got, the clearer the light in the downstairs window became.

  Caron was still complaining as they approached it.

  “These bloody bodies,” she said. “Are we ever going to get away from them? You said we only had to walk a mile or so and we’d be through them.”

  Michael stopped and looked down at his feet, thinking about what she’d just said. “We are through them.”

  “But how can we be? There are still loads of them around—look.”

  She was right, there was still an unexpectedly high number of corpses nearby. More to the point, most of them were on their feet, and some were still moving—an indication that, perhaps, these creatures had never made it as far as the crowd around the castle. The ground they were now walking over was clear, and they’d long since made it through most of the sea of decay which had surrounded the castle.

  “This is something else, isn’t it?” Lorna said, clearly coming to the same conclusion as Michael. “These bodies are here because of whatever’s in that house.”

  She started running toward the building. Harte called for her to be careful, but she wasn’t listening. The front lawn was overgrown, and the windows were covered in thick curtains of cobwebs and dust. Before she’d made it even halfway down the garden path, the front door opened inwards.

  “Hello, you,” said Hollis.

  49

  It hadn’t taken long for the Duchess’ prospective passengers to empty the supplies from the back of the truck and get ready to leave. They were loading the last few scraps and searching around the jetty for extra lifejackets when a noise distracted them. It was another truck approaching.

  “Michael and the others?” Harry
wondered.

  “Must be,” Richard said.

  “I’m not so sure,” Zoe said. They both looked at her and she explained. “I assume he knows his way around here?”

  “Yes, why…?”

  “Because whoever that is,” she continued, “they don’t have a fucking clue. Listen. They’re driving up and down the main roads, probably trying to find this place.”

  “Shit,” Harry cursed. He knew she was probably right. “We need to get going.”

  “You get the boat moving, I’ll get back to the helicopter,” Richard said. “I’ll take a couple with me, just in case.”

  With that he turned and started to run. Harry watched him go, people suddenly crisscrossing around him, being marshaled by Zoe.

  “One last flyover first,” he shouted, “remember?”

  Richard stopped. “There’s no point while it’s still dark.”

  Harry knew he was right. There was no chance of seeing anything yet. “But you will come back.”

  “Once I’ve got you lot safely on your way.”

  With that Richard ran on, closely followed by two others.

  Zoe and Charlie Moorehouse remained on the jetty as the others boarded the Duchess. They were both armed with batons, although neither knew if they’d be able to fight. Harry wished he had his sword. Bloody hell, he couldn’t even remember where he’d left it. He was about to do a final head count and check everyone was accounted for when a van sped down the sloping road which led into the marina. It skidded to a halt just short of the Duchess.

  “Let’s go,” Harry said, pushing Moorehouse onto the boat. “Get out of here before they start shooting at us.”

  “Wait!” a woman shouted from over by the truck. Zoe took a few steps forward. It wasn’t Jas. It was Melanie, Bayliss, and Paul Field.

  “Let us on, Zoe,” she said. “Please.”

  “Where’s Jas?”

  “He’s coming. He’s probably not far behind us. Please!”