The Grave: A Zombie Novel (9 page)

A
crack rang out, snapping through the air and echoing across the valley, bouncing off the hills like a gunshot. The dead man did not jump, duck, curse, or react in any way. Through blurry bloodshot eyes, the dead man saw more things fall from the sky. Unrecognisable things fell, raining down through the trees ahead and crashing into the earth with loud bangs and thuds. No more than ten feet in front of the corpse, a man landed on the ground, flattening the long grass and leaving a small crater in the soil. Gravity sucked the body into the sodden earth with enough impact that it sent vibrations through the ground and the walking corpse stumbled. The body that had fallen from the sky was horribly mutilated, limbs broken and smashed. It had ceased to look like a man once it had impacted upon the ground.

The walking corpse could smell the fresh blood and the raw meat.
Instantly, it fell upon the grizzly pile of flesh that used to be Nonu, the aeroplane’s co-pilot, and it began devouring the warm, succulent meat. More walking corpses appeared, drawn at first by the noise from the sky, but then to the strange new food that fell from above.

When the pilot had been
consumed, only a hollow in the ground and a scattering of bloody clothing even signified he had been there at all. The many dead had ingested virtually his whole body: hair, blood, tissue and bone. The burning plane had left behind a smoky trail in the evening sky, a sweet burning smell from the spent aviation fuel, and so the Deathless took flight. More joined them as they marched through the valley across green lush fields and through the small forest ahead. Pieces of the doomed plane were strewn across the valley, but it was only the prospect of flesh that drew interest and curiosity from the dead. Rarely were they interrupted from their scavenging and feasting. The forest floor was alive as animals and birds scurried away from the approaching death. Rabbits buried deep into their hollows, mice and voles scuttled into riverbeds and the Kakapos and Kiwis hurried quietly to hide in their nests. All through the forest, the birdsong and mating calls of spring ceased. The animals had learnt to sense when danger was near and how to avoid it, mostly.

Not all
were quick on their feet and successful. A young woman, ageless, thin and dead, grabbed a skink as it tried to run. She shoved it into her mouth as it wriggled and squirmed, unable to escape her grasp. Her teeth crunched through its bones and tore its flesh as she ate it alive. Nothing was left of the creature within a minute and the dead woman carried on, following the flock in search of more. Their hunger was insatiable and their existence pitiful, though they were pitiless themselves. Men, women, children and infected animals existed only in that place with one intention, to consume flesh and to eat the living.

The Deathless did not consider their position on
Earth as consequential, for they did not consider anything. The bodies of the dead moved and walked, occasionally summoning up the energy to what could be described as a jog, but little more. Muscles had long since wasted away and they had no need for speed in the same way that they had no need for sleep or rest. They desired no material things, nor suffered from pride. They had no need for procreation or love, no maternal or paternal instincts, and had no knowledge of their neighbour. The corpse walking next to them was as pointless as the moon rising or the sun setting. It could rain or snow and they would not take shelter. The fiery summer sun could burn the land and fry their skin, but they would not attempt to find shade. They simply existed, their senses attuned to one goal: a never-ending search for food. Usually, they hunted alone, although occasionally they sensed a migration such as this one. When a flock of them moved, it signified a food source ahead and so they joined the others in the same direction. There was no hive mind or sense of togetherness and certainly no willingness to share or feeling of brotherhood as they walked. A Pilot fish will live beside and follow a shark through the oceans, not because of any kind of kinship or kindred connection with the shark, but because it knows, it can sustain itself if it stays close and find a constant source of food.

For so long
now, many of them had lost their clothing to the elements and time. The seams had split and the cotton had torn, and many of the dead were half-naked. They did not care, as they did not know they were naked. Breasts hung low and limp, and putrid flesh sloped off the older ones. The dead children ignored the bare flesh on display. Male and female, black and white, they were all oblivious to their nudity. Their skin was discoloured and damaged; there was no longing, embarrassment or self-awareness. The walking corpses simply carried on every day, roaming wherever they wished across the land. If they caught an arm or a leg on a spiky bush, they would simply tear the limb off and continue. If they fell and broke an ankle or a bone, they felt no pain or suffering. If they could walk, they walked. If they could no longer walk, they would drag themselves along on their hands. If they could no longer drag themselves anywhere, they would wait for food to come to them. They could not die and so would lie still for weeks, months, years, until an inquisitive animal would foolishly get too close and then snap! Rotten black teeth would seize upon the hapless creature and drink down the blood from the animal’s still pumping heart. It didn’t matter if the meat was stringy or fatty, it was all the Deathless wanted. It was a curse they would never be rid of. And any creature in their path would be eaten. Those not killed instantly, any creature that might escape with just a wound from the dead would not last long. A bite or a scratch meant irreversible infection and an eternity of oblivious death. Once bitten, an animal would turn within a few seconds. The heart would implode causing agony and then it would be all over. They would return as one of the dead.

T
he Deathless followed the trail of smoke and destruction through the forest toward the crash site. They were like moths flocking to a flame and nothing would stop them. A burnt path led them through charred ground and past trees with broken limbs to the edge of the city. The plane had skimmed the tops of the trees and ended up in the town of Judgeford. Grass gradually gave way to gravel and toppled trees conceded ground to crumbling houses as the dead marched on in their search for the fresh meat that fell from the sky.

The domes that had hastily been erected over some of the smaller towns had long since cracked
and fallen. There was nothing to stop the plane’s catastrophic descent and so it had smashed through the town before finally coming to rest.

The Deathless now controlled this land
. Millions of them had been shipped there from all over the globe, a shunned race that were both feared and despised equally. Some of these people, these dead beings, were now on their way to Judgeford. They did not know the town’s name or need to. All they knew was that was where they needed to get to, because that was where food was.

* * *

Will staggere
d from the plane and sank to the ground. Blood poured from a cut on his cheek and he held his hand to it trying to stem the bleeding.  He felt dizzy and spaced out, as if he had been inside a centrifuge on full speed before being abruptly spat out. He looked up and saw a row of houses, small low buildings and fences. The plane had come to rest in a residential street. Evidently, the pilot had attempted to land between the houses and had at least partly succeeded.

Looking back at where they had come
from, he saw a trail of destruction. Several cars and vans were flipped over and deep cracks in the road had been gouged out where the plane had landed. A couple of cars were burning. Will felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Tricia looming over him. Tears streaked her face.

“Can you help me?
We can’t get Wilfred out.”

Tricia
went back toward the plane and Will stood to follow her. The plane had been split in two, its fragile body breaking up on impact with the ground. The wings had sheared off and the sides of the plane had been peeled back, exposing the destroyed interior and ragged seats. Debris littered the area around the hull of the plane. In places, Will could see all the way through it to the buildings on the other side of the road. He looked at the empty row of seats inside and then saw the body lying on the ground at his feet: Josef.

Will knelt down and examined his colleague.
His first impression was that Josef was dead. His clothes were untarnished and his face calm and clean, yet he lay perfectly still. Will put his hand against Josef’s neck and felt for a pulse. It was strong. Will felt relief wash over him and was grateful that his friend wasn’t dead. Will shook Josef gently at first, then stronger, willing him to wake up. Josef began to stir and Will called out his name over and over. Finally, Josef sat up.

“What happened?” asked Josef rubbing his head.

“I don’t know, we just...I don’t know.” Will left Josef and headed toward the plane. He had to know what had happened to everyone else. Between the plane coming down and a minute ago, he had a blank. Tricia was with Tug trying to free Wilfred. His seat had been thrown forward into the one in front of him and it had jammed itself. Wilfred could wriggle his arms and legs, but there was no space to squeeze out. Will didn’t even need to get into the plane to help. He just stood outside and helped Tug, who was pulling at Wilfred’s seat. Tricia was holding Wilfred’s hand, trying to reassure him. He was saying nothing and looked very pale.

“Come
on, you bastard,” screamed Tug as he pulled at the back of the seat.

Tug was sweating and Will noticed a few cuts and scrapes, but no serious
injuries, apparently. Together, they pulled and Wilfred’s seat began to move. Slowly it began to inch backwards and eventually Wilfred was able to clamber out. He almost fell out of the plane and collapsed into Tricia’s arms.

‘My God, my God,” was all he said as he sat there on the ground with Tricia holding him.

Tug jumped down and handed Will a rucksack. “Here, we’re going to need this, mate. Take it over there to the will you? Glad to see you’re back with us.”

Will took the pack from Tug and walked slowly in the direction Tug had nodded. He
felt like he was experiencing everything through a bubble; it was as if he was standing just beside his own body, watching what was going on. Memories started to pop back into his head. The plane had crashed into a village or small town. He remembered the trees giving way to houses and then...then he remembered waking up on the plane, still in his seat. Mark had been shouting at him, but he hadn’t heard a word. He touched his head and recalled that he had scrambled out of the plane with Mark. Claire and Kelly had already been out of the plane before he had collapsed. He must have passed out. He recalled seeing Tricia and a moment ago, Josef. Had he seen Suzy? He couldn’t think. Where was she?

Will saw Kelly
sitting on a low stone wall in front of a decrepit cottage and hurried over to her. His mind was now firing on all cylinders and he dropped the bag at her feet.

“
Are you okay? Where is she? Where’s Suzy?”

Before Kelly could
answer, he heard the reply.

“I’m
here, Will, I’m fine.”

Suzy appeared from behind him and he grabbed her, thanking God silently that she was alive. He held her out and looked her up and down. Her legs were already showing some nasty bruises and dirt streaked across her face, but she was looking up at him with bright, lively eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked him tenderly.

“
I think so. How are you? Is everyone all right?” Will kept a tight hold of Suzy’s hand and turned to Kelly. She was holding a piece of cloth to the back of her head and grimacing.

“It’s a
god damned miracle, if you ask me,” said Kelly. She felt like someone had taken a hammer to the back of her head and she took a quick glance at the bloodied cloth before reapplying it to the back of her head. She needed to keep pressure on, let the wound heal and the blood clot. “Now that Wilfred is out, everyone is off the plane. I think Claire might have broken her arm, but apart from that, it appears we’ve suffered nothing more than cuts and bruises. Rasmus is wrapping her arm up now. He is remarkably fine, all things considered. Just a bump on his head, but otherwise...fine. Thank God, you got Josef up. I was just about to go over there myself but...Mark helped me off the plane. I think something whacked me when we landed. I don’t know, I was out of it for a while. Mark’s been trying to figure out where we are.”

“
Holy cow,” said Suzy under her breath. “Here, let me see that.” She took the cloth from Kelly and examined the back of her head, parting the hair so she could see the cut. “You might have a concussion, you know. You’re going to have to take it easy.”

Kelly pressed the cloth ba
ck on her head and winced. The bleeding was stopping, but Suzy was right. Who knew how seriously injured they were really. They had taken a good beating when the plane had come down and could have untold injuries. She was going to have to watch the others for symptoms of concussion or internal injuries. The ones you couldn’t see were the most dangerous. She knew Suzy was right and she should be taking it easy, but that wasn’t really an option now. She was responsible for these people and she was going to have to try getting help quickly.

“What about the pilot?” asked
Will. “I saw the co-pilot, he...when the plane was going down...he couldn’t have made it. But I’d like to thank the pilot. He did well to get us down. If it wasn’t for him we’d all be dead right now.” Will looked around for the pilot.