March of the Dead (Killing the Dead Book 11) Read online

  Her eyes widened in pain and I glanced down in surprise to see my hand holding the knife that had slid between her ribs and into her heart. She slumped forwards, lifeless into my arms and I let her drop as I scratched at my head.

  What do I do now?

  Chapter 2

  It would be fairly easy to make it look like she’d been bitten and that I’d had to kill her. That wouldn’t explain why I’d stabbed her in the ribs or why I hadn’t waited to see if she was one of those lucky souls who seemed to be immune to the change. But, then again, the people of the group were idiots and wouldn’t need much persuading. The question was, did I care enough to try to hide what I’d done?

  I cleaned the knife and slid it back into its sheath on my belt as I considered my options. That was better that thinking about why I’d actually killed her or the absolute emptiness inside of me that had accompanied her death. No joy, no sorrow, no guilt or regret. Nothing at all.

  Perhaps I could blame her death on something else? If I told them there were Ferals in the house then they wouldn’t go in and check, that was for sure. Probably just soil themselves and run, like they had before.

  My other option, and one that was supremely appealing. Would be to just leave. Walk out the front door and away from the group and the whole business. By the time they came looking, I would be far away and would never see any of them again.

  But then I’d be alone and vulnerable. As much as I hated the idea of needing help, I wouldn’t survive alone. I was realistic enough to know that. Oh, no doubt I’d survive a good long time but eventually I would find myself in a situation where I couldn’t quite make it through alone and that would be it.

  If anything, the past winter had shown me that having people around you that you could trust was invaluable at times. My friends, they had saved me more than once and I was certain that if I hadn’t made my bargain with her back at the beginning of the apocalypse, I wouldn’t have survived.

  So, the question really was, did I want to survive? Whatever was wrong with me, I hadn’t given up entirely else I would have just laid down and let the zombies kill me. Like they had Pat, a nasty little part of my mind reminded me.

  “Dammit!” I snapped to no one in particular.

  Why the hell did I keep returning to thoughts of his death? It had been months since it had happened and for some bizarre reason at the worst possible times, I would have some thought or memory surface and be reminded of what had happened.

  No idea why. It just seemed to happen on its own and I couldn’t understand it. Like so much else in life admittedly. That’s why I had come to rely so much on her. She’d been able to explain such things to me and she’d have been able to tell me why it was happening and likely how to stop it.

  He was my friend and he’d died. Like any other damned fool with a sense of morality and honour. He’d given up his life for those he cared about and he was an idiot for doing so. No sane person would ever give up their life for another. Except I had risked my life for my friends more than once.

  I let out a soft sigh at that thought. I couldn’t really argue with it and besides, if I did, I’d just be arguing with myself and that wouldn’t be a good sign. Nor would it solve my problem.

  My gaze fell to the dead girl, lying in a spreading pool of blood, and I pondered my options once more before making a decision.

  Being careful not to stand in the blood that was ruining the carpet, I stepped over the body and went into the kitchen. I rummaged through a couple of the drawers and then the cupboard beneath the sink before I found what I wanted.

  The bright yellow rubber gloves that would have been worn when washing up, fit me well enough and were, I hoped, thick enough for what I needed to do.

  Since I had no intention of biting the dead girl, I would have to make use of the zombie and I had no desire to put my bare flesh anywhere near its mouth if I could avoid it. With the gloves though, I should have some protection.

  Taking its head in my hands, I dragged it closer to the dead girl and pried open its mouth. The stench up close was even worse than I remembered and I realised that I wasn’t as used to the smell as I’d thought I was.

  Knowing that I couldn’t control the corpse enough to actually bite into the dead flesh, I used the upper teeth to tear at the edges of the wound I’d made with the knife. It wasn’t perfect but would look at least a little more ragged if anyone bothered to check.

  Once done, I let the zombie drop and pulled off the gloves before tossing them into the refuse bin. I highly doubted anyone would go rummaging through there and time was getting short anyway. The horde of zombies moving ever northwards wouldn’t stop to rest like we had to and so we had a number of miles yet to go before we would be far enough ahead that we could rest.

  Aware of each passing second, I drew my knife and stabbed it down into the dead girl’s skull. She’d turn eventually. We all knew that and it would help sell my story. The only thing left to do was quickly rummage through the cupboards for food and then head out to my group and give them the news.

  The previous householder had left a number of plastic carrier bags in a drawer beside the sink so I was able to put the few items that I found in one and take it with me. There wasn’t much, some tins of vegetables and a bag of flour that had been left behind when the residents fled.

  Abi, short and stout with flaming red hair and freckles, nodded a greeting as I approached. Her eyes eagerly fixed on my carrier bag as though she could already see what it held. Her pale skin had reddened with the sun and she’d taken to wearing a long-sleeved shirt and baseball cap to shade her face. It didn’t protect her too well from the summer sun and she whined constantly about her sunburn.

  Her companion, Lisa, was the total opposite. Tall and willowy with dark brown eyes the colour of chocolate and skin that had tanned nicely at the first sign of the sun. She was quiet and thoughtful, deferring often to others. I could almost tolerate her.

  “Where’s Ali?” Lisa asked as she craned her neck to see behind me.

  “Dead,” I replied and ignored their gasps of disbelief.

  “What happened?” Abi asked. There was concern, I think, in her voice but her eyes kept drifting back to the bag.

  “Zombie. She didn’t check the rooms properly and one bit her.”

  “Oh my god!” Lisa said and I glanced her way.

  There were actual tears in her eyes. Why, I have no idea. I didn’t think they were that close. I gave a half-hearted shrug and nodded towards the house behind them where the other two men of the group were exiting.

  “Hey! We got food,” Nathan said. His accent indicated he came from somewhere near Newcastle and that was pretty much all I knew about him, other than the fact that he’d tried and succeeded at seducing most of the women of the group.

  He would be considered good looking by most and while the rest of us had given up the pretence of personal grooming, he shaved every morning whether he had water or not and carried a pair of nail scissors with him. He’d spend a good deal of his time walking, paying little attention to where he was going while he held up a mirror in one hand and snipped at errant hairs with the scissors. I was surprised he’d survived so long.

  “What did you get?” Abi asked eagerly, finally tearing her gaze from my bag and turning it to the ones held by the guys.

  “Tins of veggies and tatties,” Johnny said with a wide smile.

  He was the only one who was actually from Scotland and he had the burr in his voice to prove it. From what I’d heard on those numerous evenings where the group seemed to do little but talk, he’d been working in Cumbria for the past few years. When the apocalypse began, he’d fled north with his girlfriend and best mate - or rugby teammate, I couldn’t recall - looking to find his family. It hadn’t gone well.

  “Here, some biccies too,” he said as he reached into one of the bags and pulled out a pack of bourbons. “Might be a bit soft, but haven’t seen any for ages.”

  Abi practically squealed in
joy as she saw them and I caught a glance from Lisa as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. Not much, just enough to show me what she felt but not enough to bring notice of anyone else. Weird.

  The red headed girl hugged him before she grabbed the biscuits and tore at the wrapping. He smiled indulgently and I began to suspect they had something going on between them. Johnny was a pleasant enough looking fellow, young like the rest and he’d had a chestnut coloured beard down to his chest before the apocalypse. Since then it had grown a little wild and he’d taken to braiding it.

  “Where’s Alison?” Nathan asked and the mood of the girls dropped immediately, though it didn’t stop Abi from her attempts to open the biscuits.

  “Dead,” I said when no one else spoke. “Zombie.”

  “Damn!”

  “Ah man, I’m sorry to hear that,” Johnny said and clapped the other man on the back.

  “Shit,” Nathan said. “God-fucking-damn it.”

  “What’s with the swearing guys?” Georgia asked as she joined us. Andrew followed behind, a carrier bag of his own in one hand.

  “Alison’s dead,” Johnny said. “Bloody zombie got her.”

  “Oh no!” she replied but her eyes fixed to me, a question in them that I didn’t acknowledge. “I’m so sorry. She was such a sweet girl.”

  “We should bury her,” Lisa said and I opened my mouth to reply but Mark beat me to it.

  “No time.” He raised his eyes to the sky as he did a rough calculation of the time. “We have to keep moving.”

  “She was our friend!” Abi protested around a mouthful of biscuit.

  Mark held up one hand for silence and after a few moments quiet, we heard it. Somewhere distant but not distant enough, the sounds of a horde of zombies larger than any we’d seen. Their undulating moans carried far in the still air.

  “No time,” he repeated.

  “Whose turn to carry the bags?” Johnny asked with one raised eyebrow as he looked at each of us in turn.

  “Ryan,” Georgia said with a sly smile for me alone. “And Nathan.”

  “Right then laddies, go get em.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Georgia but she just smiled as Nathan grumbled and brushed past me. I Hesitated a moment before following.

  The ‘bags’ were large rucksacks. Made of a waterproof fabric, with mesh pockets for any number of items. We used them primarily to carry all the group's belongings. Since we only had two, they were generally overfilled with all manner of items.

  Each of the bags weighed around two and a half kilos empty, so when the bottles of water and tins of food were added, along with tin cups, pans and bowls for cooking. The matches, candles, string and coils of rope. The first aid kits, spare bandages, sun cream and as many cans of bug spray as could be found along with all the other bits… each bag weighed a hell of a lot. My back began to ache just thinking of carrying one of them.

  Nathan grunted as he lifted the first bag and swung it onto his back. Fitting his arms through the straps and adjusting the belt strap that went around the waist to help reduce chafing.

  “We need to find more fucking bags,” he muttered as he walked past me towards the others. I gave a half-shrug in reply and reached for the second bag.

  Too large and overfilled to be worn while searching houses, we tended to drop them as soon as we reached somewhere that might contain either zombies or items we could use. Not the best idea since it was an issue should we be forced to flee the area, which is why we had two bags and not three.

  Abi had tried to drag it along after her since she was the closest when the pack of zombies had rounded the house. I still believed that she had ample time to bring it, but she’d panicked and dropped it before running for her life. Pathetic.

  “Need a hand?” Georgia asked, her voice practically a purr as she stepped up close behind me while I stood contemplating the bag.

  Her presence was an intrusion and she came perilously close to touching me. Something I tolerated from few people without my initiating contact. Only one person had been able to do so without my wanting to sink my blade into their heart and she was long gone.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Oh, come now,” she said. “Tell me what really happened in there.”

  “Nothing.”

  The bag was just as heavy as I remembered and I had to bite down on my tongue to stop myself from swearing as I swung it onto my back.

  “So, there was a zombie in there and it got past you and killed the girl while you did… what?”

  I ignored her as I adjusted the straps and settled the weight on my back as best I could. I was already sweating from the heat. Hot and clammy, my t-shirt sticking to my skin as flies buzzed around me and just a short time carrying the bag would be almost unbearable.

  “You see,” she continued. “Even if you didn’t actually kill her yourself, I think that you could have saved her and didn’t.”

  “Why do you care?” I said with a sigh as I turned to face her.

  Sweat streaked her face and her blonde hair stuck to her skull but didn’t detract from her looks in any way. She was, even I had to admit, undeniably attractive. More so when I caught a glimpse of that darkness she carried that so matched my own.

  “Because I want to see the real you,” she said, voice breathless with something I couldn’t quite understand. “I caught a glimpse that night at the castle. Just a glimpse of the killer you are and I want to see more. I want to truly see the real you.”

  I couldn’t think of a reply to that so just stared at her before I pushed past her to re-join the main group. I ignored her low growl of irritation and concentrated on keeping my balance with the unwieldy pack strapped to my back.

  Mark nodded amiably as he caught my eye when I joined the gathered group. I managed to hold back my frown though I was curious where he had come to the conclusion that we were people who greeted each other. In the past few weeks, he’d somehow decided we were friends and tried to speak to me far too often for my liking.

  “We’re just trying to decide which way to go,” he said and gestured behind him to the hills that rose over the village. “I’m leaning towards the hills, what do you think?”

  “Oh, he’d love to do some hill walking,” Georgia said before I could answer. I turned my head to glare at her.

  “Yeah if someone else was carrying the bloody bags,” Nathan muttered.

  “Well?” Mark pressed and I realised he actually wanted me to answer.

  “What’s the alternative?”

  “We follow the road out of town and keep on eastwards towards the coast.”

  “More towns and villages that way,” Johnny said. “More chance to find some food since we’ve got little left and probably bugger all choice up on the hills.”

  “The hills will slow the undead,” I said and ignored Nathan’s fresh muttering. “Will buy us some time if nothing else.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Mark said. “The hills it is.”

  I ignored the glare cast my way from Nathan and Georgia’s curious look as I stared hard at the hills. They were steep and high. On a cold, overcast day, the low hanging clouds would brush the tops and if nothing else it would be a relief to get away from the flies and heat of the lowlands.

  With a pain already growing in my back, I set off walking, following the group as the moans of the undead rose in volume somewhere behind us. Sounded like they’d found some prey.

  Chapter 3

  Nearly an hours walk from the village, we had barely managed to make our way half way up the hill. Sweat poured from me and I was pretty sure that by the end of the day I would stink worse than any zombie. Still, the higher we climbed, the more the breeze picked up giving me some respite from the heat.

  The hills themselves covered the land like an old cloth that had been crumpled up and tossed down, with rises and dips across the landscape. Old, yellow grass was mixed in with newer, greener shoots and wildflowers bloomed all around.

  If one were so incl
ined, they could turn and see a vast distance around us to the south and west, while north and east was obscured by the hills we were climbing. I’d tried it and soon grown bored. There was nothing much to see other than the sprawling mass of undead that were moving northwards.

  I wondered idly if they would turn west when they hit the hills. If they did then they’d hit the A76 motorway that lead north-west and would eventually find the coast which would force them fully north once again, straight to the city of Glasgow.

  Considering that Glasgow likely held around a half a million people at least, adding the new horde of zombies to that mix wouldn’t be good. What would happen when they got there, I didn’t know for sure but I could guess.

  They would either form one giant group that squatted in the city until they finally wasted away or they would fracture into smaller groups and spread out into the countryside surrounding the city. Most likely, they would become an even larger horde moving northwards.

  Since we were being pushed north, that was obviously something I would rather avoid. Probably almost as much as I wanted to avoid running into my old group and I knew they’d gone north.

  Still, one of the few benefits of climbing the high hills around Durisdeer, was the fact that the zombies were unlikely to follow us. Free from being pursued, we could keep heading north-east towards Edinburgh or directly east towards the coast. Perhaps find a way to head back south or even across the North Sea towards the Scandinavian countries. With all the hills and mountains, they had, I suspected they’d have settlements that had fared better than many of ours.

  Of course, the Shamblers may have issues with climbing hills but I’d not noted any such behaviour from the Ferals. So perhaps those mountain towns and villages would be just as susceptible. An amusing thought.

  We pressed on to the top of the hill and finally made it, a couple of hours after we’d started the climb. It’d been hard going in places with the pack on my back and I was eager to set it down and stretch my aching muscles.

  “Take a look,” Mark said to the group in general and my brow furrowed as I turned to him.