Plague Of The Revenants (8 page)

I took up the
hammer, strode towards the car doors and opened them up quickly, brandishing the hammer in my hand. If a revenant stuck its filthy rotting head out I did not leave it a fraction of a second before painting its brains across the dashboard. At one point a revenant lunged over the cars and slid towards me, landing on a heap on the floor the other side. I leapt nimbly over the bonnets and brought the hammer crashing down upon its skull. Paul and Kit went in next, helping themselves and loading any goods they found on to the truck. I was right. These cars were better prepared than the ones we had seen crashed in the ditch. Sometimes I caught Kit watching me as I despatched the beasts and I could have sworn there was horror in her eyes. That was too bad. If we both survived long enough to work together she would see me do far worse than that. I didn’t bother with the revenants that were stuck. We steered clear of them as much as possible and I only dealt with them if they started to climb over the bonnets. I was more concerned about their ungodly moans which were disconcerting at the best of times. Here and there we saw the signs of struggle. We saw windows that had been caved in, blood all over the road, even a severed limb in places. On one or two cars I actually saw bullet holes. Each car told its own little story, but there was no time for that right now.

Kit and Paul came out with rucksacks and bags. There was no time to check these just yet. They went straight into the back of the truck.
We worked fast but we were careful too. Unfortunately I saw no opportunity to take one of the vehicles to replace the one lost the previous day. What with the modern electronics the batteries on most of them had long since worn down and besides, they were packed in far too close to be turned around. I saw several revenants stumbling amongst the cars and I did not doubt there would also be some crawlers ready to reach up and grab our legs given half the chance. I warned the others accordingly and at the same time kept my eyes peeled and struck only when there was imminent danger. I was more concerned about the noise they were making and hoped there was not a swarm nearby, ready to surround us and trap us even more completely than the former occupants of this car graveyard.
Kit and Paul climbed over the cars with the bags. There was not time to explore their contents just yet but I was pleased to see the back of the truck filling up with a good collection of bulging rucksacks.
“It doesn’t feel right,” said Paul with trepidation. “It feels like we’re grave robbers.”
“Exactly what we are,” I told him cheerfully. “And the contents of those graves will keep us alive for a very long time provided we avoid the traps. And it isn’t as if anybody else are using the things, we might as well take them for the good of the species.”
“Still trying to save the world?” Muttered Kit sarcastically.
Suddenly Paul stood bolt upright and looked over the bank with great alarm. I followed his stare to be greeted with the sight of a multitude of revenants clambering towards us over the cars, alerted by the warning calls of their fellows. My eyes shot back towards the truck which I saw to my satisfaction was now overflowing with bags and other merchandise. “Okay let’s go!” I exclaimed sharply. “We’ve got more than enough for one day. No point in getting too greedy.”

We finished up what we were doing and started to make our way back to the truck which was around fifty yards up the highway.
The key was not to panic. We just had to keep going. The revenants began to climb over one another, their dead eyes eerily focused on us three living. They stretched out their arms towards us and hooked at the air, their lopsided heads lolling as they shuffled forwards. They did not appear to notice the cars, but rather climbed over them without seeing, never losing focus on their prey.

The revenants didn’t appear to have any sense of direction, didn’t seem to have a goal. It was as if they were feeling their way in the dark, stumbling into the cars and the other debris that blocked the road. I took to the roofs of the cars, leaping from one to another and bringing the hammer hard upon the skulls of any who crossed my path. From my raised vantage point I saw that they were coming in vast numbers, like the incoming tide, slowly filling up the cracks between the cars, advancing still further towards us. I looked around towards Kit and Paul and saw they were making their way back to the truck. I had no desire to be blocked in and trapped
within the wreckage. Time to stop messing around. I turned and jumped down from the car I was standing on and here I was hasty, here I forgot my own rules. A hand reached out from the floor and grabbed me as I tried to run, tripping me up and sending me flying to the floor, the hammer clattering out of my hand. Instinctively I kicked out as the ravenous creature pushed its rotten mouth towards my leg, deflecting it out of the way for but a second, for it was possessed of great strength. I kicked out again and reached out to try and gain leverage on one of the cars so I could pull myself up but it was no use. Further, I now saw the revenants making their way through the gaps in the cars so they were but a few feet away. I tried to roll over but my feet had slid beneath the car and there was nowhere for me to turn. Suddenly a shot rang out. The revenant’s head snapped back and exploded in a plethora of blood, and I was splattered with rotten brains and pieces of skull. I looked up to see Kit standing over me, shotgun at the ready.
“Does this mean we’re even now?” Said Kit with extreme satisfaction.
“Hardly,” I laughed. “I wasn’t nearly as fucked as you were when I found you yesterday.”
There was no more time for conversation. The revenants were still coming. I leapt to my feet and hurried with Kit to the van. Paul joined us a moment later, having seized up an armful of bags at the last moment and we all leapt inside. I slammed the truck into reverse and backed up along the hard shoulder just as the revenants breached the last line of cars and lumbered towards us. Secretly I was cursing the fact it was me who almost got killed. I suppose it the long run the close encounter was a good thing. Already I risked getting a little too big for my boots.
We drove slowly back, because the last thing we wanted was to lose any of our precious bags of cargo.
“We’ve got a good haul,” I said as we drove.
“Or have we?” Said Kit. Do you think we should stop halfway and see if it’s any good?”
“Might as well get back to the church,” I said. “We’ve all had enough close encounters for one day.”
“Did you see how much there was still left?” Said Paul happily. “We didn’t even clear a fraction of it. We can come back again and again and see ourselves through for most of the rest of the year.”
“Not straight away,” I told him, a note of caution in my voice. “We’ve stirred up the swarm now and the chances are they’ll be hanging around for a good week or more. Now we’ve brought ourselves time to breathe there’s no point in getting greedy and rushing back too soon.”
“Either was it was a lucky escape,” said Kit.
“A damned sight luckier than you had yesterday when you lost two good men,” I told her. “That was one hell of a haul we’re bringing home today and with a big haul comes big risks, risks we don’t want to have to take over and over again.”
“No worries on that score,” said Paul triumphantly. “We’re set for the rest of the month now.”
The others had been impatiently awaiting our return. Reverend Thorpe opened the door of the church and came out to meet us, his eyes lighting up when he saw the loot. Those who could came out to the truck and together we heaved the rucksacks and bags out and took them back into the church, crowding around whilst Kit and her father emptied them out. As I suspected there were a multitude of tins and several other useful items besides. We found several knives, golf clubs and baseball bats, quite a little armoury and a weapon for every one of us survivors, although now everybody would be able to wield them. There were also bagful’s of warm clothes and blankets, cutlery, toiletries, more tin openers than we knew what to do with, a drill kit and even some books, as well as many other more personal items that were quickly surplus to requirement.
“It is a start,” I told them. “It means that we can focus on other things now without having to worry about finding food. We can sure up our defences, take stock but we sure as hell mustn’t start to get complacent.”
“But was it dangerous?” Asked Reverend Thorpe.
Kit shrugged. “Not if you knew where to watch your step,” she replied, looking at me archly.

The atmosphere amongst the survivors in the church was transformed compared to what it had been the previous night and Reverend Thorpe immediately exclaimed that we should feast once more. Various tins of meat and vegetables were combined into large saucepans and the older women immediately set about cooking up a large stew.
In the meantime Jeanette Frey started to sort out the tins and packets into days and after a time declared there was enough for thirty-one days based upon our current numbers. Throughout the course of the feast people kept coming up to me, trying to talk to me and congratulate me but I was uncomfortable with the praise they haped upon my head. As soon as I could I finished my bowl and retreated back to the clock room in the tower where I prepared to sleep. But no sooner had I lay down my head but Reverend Thorpe appeared in the doorway carrying two steaming hot mugs. “You forgot your tea,” he said cheerfully, passing me a cup. He sat down beside me on the floor and we drank together.
“You’ve only been here a day and you’re already a leader,” said Reverend Thorpe approvingly. “Everybody is looking to you and the talk now is filled with what you are to have us do next.”
“It was dangerous what we did today,” I said with caution. “And I don’t relish having to do it all over again although the chances are we might have to. If only there were more of us like myself, Kit and Paul, people who could run I mean, and another vehicle as well. We might be able to completely clear that entire row. It was a good boost for morale and those cars on the highway can serve as a little mine for us whenever the need arises, provided we’re careful of course, but it isn’t a long term solution. We can’t continue to forage through the ashes of civilisation forever. Soon enough we’re going to have to try and grow and raise our own food.”
“So what do you suggest?” Asked Thorpe.
“There are old people here and they won’t last the winter in a place like this,” I told him. “They need warmth and in this new world warmth means a fire. That farmhouse over there has fireplaces I should imagine and therefore that is where we need to be.”
“But how?” Asked Thorpe. “The place is a good hundred yards away and wide open as well.”
“So we build a fence,” I said shortly.
“You mean we turn this place into a fortress?”
“We’ve got ourselves enough food to last a good while,” I said. “So we’ve brought ourselves some time. We don’t have to live hand to mouth anymore. That means we need to use that time wisely to build up and make ourselves safer.”
“This is the first year of the infection,” said Thorpe. “Hopefully it will never be this bad again. There are few enough of us living as it is so perhaps the creatures will starve in time.”
“I’m not seeing much of that just yet,” I said doubtfully. “I can’t think those revenants of today had fed for a long time either but they were still fast enough when they wanted to be. I’m thinking back to the early news reports. It is a parasite that’s doing this to them, isn’t it? A parasite that takes over, kills and then controls the dead body, a parasite from outer space or underground or wherever they said it was from. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we’re as likely as not going to be dealing with this menace for a good few years as yet.”
“So will you train us up to fight?” asked Reverend Thorpe. “Train us to be soldiers, I mean?”
The question caught me for in truth I knew nothing about military manoeuvres. I thought for a moment then shook my head. “You people aren’t soldiers,” I said after a pause. “And I don’t have the time to train anybody. And besides, what could I teach you? All of my own training has been focused on real, living enemies, people with souls who are capable of fear. Why do you think the army was so ineffective against the revenants to begin with? Why do you think they were able to take over? I’m sorry to say that in this situation I’m as much in the dark as all the rest of you.”
“And what about you?” Asked Reverend Thorpe with some concern. “You don’t sleep downstairs with the rest of us but instead isolate yourself here in the cold of the tower. Is it because of your experiences, because of what you’ve seen?”
I turned away from him. “We’ve all got stories to tell,” I replied eventually. “But I don’t care to tell mine just yet. It’s really no better or worse than anything the rest of you have gone through. I suppose I’m just not that good with my feelings.”
We talked a little more about the specific nature of our mission earlier. I watered down the bit about our narrow escape, not wanting Thorpe to worry too much about his daughter being out there. Eventually he left and went downstairs and I was left to myself for all of two minutes before footsteps sounded up the stairs once more and this time it was Kit who appeared in the doorway.
She reached into her pocket and threw me another pack and a lighter. “My dad doesn’t know I smoke,” she said. “Truth be told I’ve been dying for a cigarette for months and now I found a pack in the side of the car so I pilfered it for myself. Hope that doesn’t count as hording.”
I sparked up hungrily, even though I had only been an infrequent smoker back in the prison. It was good to have some sort of luxury, good to be able to worry about a more conventional health risk aside from the marauding revenants and besides, I thought, I might as well smoke up whilst it still existed.
“I’m surprised you’re not downstairs,” said Kit after a time. “Lapping up the praise after our latest adventure. Everybody is talking about you.” She said the last part resentfully in a voice thick with jealousy.
“They’re just on a high,” I said dismissively. “It won’t last, they just need to think they’ve found a saviour at last. The only reason they think this is because so far it’s early days. When this sort of thing becomes a routine occurrence or when we become more stable and secure behind the barricades events such as this will become commonplace.”
“Is this all just a game to you?” Asked Kit suddenly. “All this talk of building barricades and planning for the future? I watched you today and you were like a madman in the way you killed, completely without remorse, without hesitation. Are you somehow immune to the sight of blood, to organs that once sustained life? Those revenants were people once.”
“Not anymore as I keep telling you,” I said firmly. “They said it was a parasite on the news, when there was still news that is, and even though it was only one of many theories it is still the theory I like the best. It means those things out there are dead, nothing more than reanimated corpses who can’t be saved and can’t be brought back to life again, only killed again, this time for good.”
“You think I’m naive,” said Kit. “But nobody who survived this long is stupid. We’ve all had to do things. We’ve all had to kill.”
“And you regret it?”
“Of course.”
“Well there is the difference between us,” I said with a shrug. “If every one of those things were to die tomorrow we’d save the entire human race. Its either us or them. We can’t go in for conservation or equality in this new world, Kit. They all need to die, every single one of them.”
“Maybe so but you’re still far too comfortable with doing it.”
“I don’t know why you even came up here,” I said as I smoked. “You knew I was up here and it seems to me all you wanted to do is rant.”
“I recognise some of the people who walk like that,” said Kit. “I still see the faces of who they once were. You can’t just put that aside.”
“Forget it,” I snapped at her harshly. “They’re not there anymore, those people. They’re dead, they’re nothing and a demon has taken their place. Start getting sentimental and you’ll end up joining them before you know it.”
“Some people have had to kill members of their own family,” muttered Kit. “Some people have had to leave loved ones behind in order to survive. There are people here who have no idea what might have happened to their families and still cling to the hope they might be alive somewhere. You don’t know any of that. You have nobody, you said so yourself last night.”
“I don’t like stories,” I told her. “Everybody has a story, everybody has lost something.”
“Even you?”
“Sure.” But there was no emotion in my voice.
“I know everybody wants you to take charge,” said Kit. “I know my dad doesn’t want to lead people out into the great unknown and I know we did well today, but I think you’re dangerous, Grant. You won’t join in with the rest of us, won’t tell us anything about yourself. That means you’re detached, it means you don’t really care what happens to the rest of us.”
“Of course I care,” I told her flatly. “You think I’d stick around with a few old women, some kids and a vicar and her daughter if I didn’t care?”
“Only for now,” mutters Kit. “Wait until something better comes along or when the going gets really tough, and we’ll see just how long you last.”

With these words Kit departed and I was left to myself for the last time that night. Downstairs I still heard the chattering of voices but they were quieter now. In time they died off completely. The generator was switched off. Silence descended over the church.
Kit didn’t like me, and I didn’t blame her for that. I had shocked her and frightened her more than she cared to let on. I’d lost count of the number of people I’d met like her in prison, all men of course, who’d acted all tough and knowing then cried themselves to sleep in their corner at night for the sheer horror of it all. I was far more used to this world than Kit was, better suited to it than any of the other survivors for that matter. These were good people. Possibly if they had been a little less good more of them might have survived. I flattered myself that they would not have lasted long had I not arrived when I did, although it was true. I had tried to please them, maybe tried too hard, maybe stepped on Kit’s toes somewhat. I still didn’t think they would do me a great deal of good. This new world was harsh and far more suited to a man of my background. It was really no surprised that I who killed in the old world should thrive in this. For everyone else this was a catastrophe, the worst disaster in the history of humankind. But for me this was an opportunity to start again, to put the past behind me and become a new man. But through it all there remained one thing I held over them all: I’d been through worse than this.
The following day I was up early. The few who were also up with me appeared content to rest on their laurels for a while and enjoy the relative stability yesterday’s haul had brought them but I had formulated another plan in the cold of overnight. I stepped out of the church and into the graveyard, taking my tea with me and regarded the farmhouse around a hundred yards away from where I was standing, which was also the only other building in sight. It was a large, three storey building and I counted three chimneys, practically a manor house in fact. In time Kit and her father came to join me. “How many rooms?” I asked, nodding over towards it.
“I don’t know,” replied Kit with a shrug. “I’ve never been inside. Looks like a good few though, enough for two to a room at least.”
“And that’s a positive luxury compared to the dorm you’re used to,” I said. “I like the look of the outbuildings as well although they’ll have to be made secure.”
“You’ve got it all worked out haven’t you?” Said Kit archly. “I suppose it’s your military mind at work?”
“My practical common sense,” I replied irritably. “It is already too cold in that church but that farmhouse has fireplaces and proper rooms which can be made warm. If you can make the place safe you’d be a fool not to move in. I suppose you’ve looted the hell out of it already?”
“Paul and Farrow went in there once,” replied Kit. “Took what they could. There’s a couple still in there, called the Smiths when they were alive. Of course they came running so we got the hell out and locked them in.”
“You mean you’ve had captive revenants this close to the church?” I said in surprise.
Kit shrugged. “They weren’t doing any harm in there,” she said. “And they never came out.”
“But they could have done,” I said worriedly. “And if you don’t do something about them they still might.”
“And I suppose we’re especially going to have to do something about them if you want us to move in,” said Reverend Thorpe worriedly.
“Indeed so,” I acknowledged. “We’re in a better position than most places we go to loot in that we know exactly what we’re dealing with. Two revenants somewhere inside that house and all the loot and security it provides afterwards. A suitable prize.”
“When are you going to do it?” Asked Kit, still sounding doubtful.
“No time like the present,” I said cheerfully, and I went back inside to fetch my trusty hammer.
Kit followed me. “You want me to come with you?”
“No need,” I told her. “I’m more than ready to take them both down myself.”
I walked over to the farmhouse at my leisure, for I wanted to check the place out thoroughly. The garden was a good size and partly walled. Given time and materials I thought we might be able to fence it in completely after which we could grow our own vegetables or even keep a few farm animals. There were three doors; one at the front and a back and side door. I considered that one of these could be bricked up completely and another made secure so it was only used as an emergency escape. The front door was strong and sturdy and should have been able to withstand all but the most ferocious of assaults. There were many windows, for it was a large house. They were of a medium size and would need to be blocked up before we could think about moving in. Either way, downstairs windows would present a weak point but then again I could testify from my time inside how important natural daylight was to a person’s morale. I approached the front door and tried the handle. It was not locked. Stepping inside cautiously I was immediately hit by the smell of mustiness and decaying vegetables. The ceilings were low with sturdy beams running across them and there was a fireplace in the kitchen, albeit blocked by a boiler which could soon be removed. There came the creaking of floorboards from beyond the kitchen and I knew it was not just the wind. I took the hammer and tapped it hard against the inner wall of the kitchen. The shuffling became louder and there came a harsh scratching at the door. I went over and pulled the door open, then jumped back. The revenant, an old woman, tumbled into the kitchen, and my hammer followed quickly behind her, slicing through the top of her head in a single fluid motion. I tapped against the wall again. This time there was no sound. I didn’t like this; Kit definitely said there were two of them. It was possible the husband might have made his own way out somehow but I had earlier circled the perimeter of the building and I didn’t see any open doors or windows. I proceeded carefully into the hallway. There were bloodied handprints and bloody smears on the walls. These would have to be painted over before we moved in. But as I studied the prints more closely I was convinced I saw more than one set, and there was a large pile of congealed blood on the floor. This surely meant there had been more than one person here, the biter and the bitten? My nerves were tense as piano strings. I hated being here in the enclosed spaces, would have preferred one hundred visible revenants to the single unseen one lurking somewhere in the house. I crept cautiously from room to room, trying to remember my original motive of reconnaissance. There were two sitting rooms, both containing a fireplace, a hallway and a side room with no fireplace that may once have been the scullery but now served as a sort of study. A large larder room led off from the kitchen. Of the second revenant there was no sign. I tapped against the hollow walls with the hammer once more. No sound. My eyes alighted upon the stairs. I proceeded cautiously upwards. I held my breath and proceeded from one room to the other. There were four bedrooms on this floor and also a bathroom. Two of the bedrooms contained fireplaces although both of these were blocked off and would require work to get started again. I opened the cupboard doors quickly and stepped back. No revenant stepped out. I regarded the beds wearily, dropped to my hands and knees and looked under. Nothing. I wondered if Kit was sure when she said there had been two revenants. Surely they would both have come running? This left just one more set of stairs leading up to the attic rooms. I gripped my hammer hard once more and started to climb, wincing as the steps creaked as I stepped on them. I stopped and closed my eyes, listened carefully. Still no sound. There were no fireplaces in the three rooms on this floor which mostly seemed to have been used for storage and were piled with dusty heirlooms and other junk which would have to be searched through but I imagined the heat would rise through the house and would be perfect for us younger, more hardy ones. I stepped from room to room and back out into the hallway. I was now satisfied I had searched everywhere and yet there was not a revenant to be seen. I cursed the difficulty of the situation, hating the uncertainty and wondering once more whether Kit had been mistaken. The creaking of the loft hatch above caused me to freeze and too late I reacted as the revenant fell from the loft on top of me in the perfect ambush. I fell to the floor, crying out in terror as the revenant grappled towards me. Fortunately it had fallen awkwardly itself and I was able to half role away before its hands closed upon my shirt.  From here I could not use the hammer and the narrowness of the hall gave me little leverage to kick out. I took hold of the creature’s arm and pulled hard. The revenant’s limb snapped like a twig but still it bore down upon me. I summoned up all my strength, lifted up its rotting body and threw it as hard as I could against the wall. It grabbed me with its one good hand but at least I was able to stagger to my feet and brought my foot down hard upon its neck which snapped with an ugly crack. I stepped back and seized hold of my hammer, watched as the revenant’s head lolled obscenely and bounced against its chest and shoulders as it struggled to get up. I finished it off with a hefty blow to the head then sat back down for a long time in an effort to take charge of my nerves.
“Did you get them?” Asked Kit as I stepped out into the sunlight, trying to control my shaking hands.
“Only just,” I replied. “You’re right you know. It’s lethal to be in a house with those things on your own. Give me a hundred of them in the open spaces any day.”
“Now you can see what we were up against,” replied Kit triumphantly. “Not so chicken shit after all, huh?”