‘This is a bit frustrating for me’ said Chris, as the two men headed toward a large fenced-off area containing half a dozen chickens. ‘I don’t have any trade to offer but I did get pretty good at fighting the dead. I’m pretty handy with an axe these days. Are you sure-’

  ‘Sorry, Chris. Can’t risk it. Nice try, though...’

  The youngster gave a slow nod before a familiar sound caught his attention, making him look around.

  ‘What’s that? Is that barking?’

  ‘Oh, that’s the kennels’ replied Marshall, waving a hand over toward a narrow brick building with a corrugated roof. ‘We’ve got a few serving dogs here, as well as a few strays. Some of the people here like having them around. It keeps morale up, reminds them how things used to be.’

  ‘Uh, can I see? I mean, if you need someone to look after them then maybe that’s something I could do.’

  Marshall nodded. ‘I don’t see why not. We’ve got someone called Andy who takes care of all the animals but there are quite a few here. There are pigs and sheep over the other side and a couple of horses too. Thinking about it, I’m pretty sure Andy would appreciate the help. Come with me.’

  Following the soldier over the worn ground, Chris tried his best to keep his emotions in check. It seemed like ages since the traumatic events in Shoreham, when he lost sight of Pepper amid a mass of groaning zombies. If by some miracle she managed to survive then maybe there was a chance that she was brought here. His heart was thumping as he climbed the chunky step outside the entrance to the makeshift building. Moving just ahead of him, Marshall opened the outer door and peered inside.

  ‘Andy, are you in here?’

  When there was no reply other than a chorus of barks, Marshall held the door open for Chris to follow and then pushed aside an internal chain-link gate. Now louder than ever, the noise of the dogs was ringing through Chris’ head and he was struggling to hear what Marshall was saying.

  The long building had a solid floor of concrete with what looked like seven or eight pens on either side. Staying close behind the other man, Chris moved along the length of the walkway, looking left and right. The first five enclosures contained serving Alsatians; a couple of them more than a little intimidating. The next two pens were empty, and the two after that were occupied by a small, snaggle-toothed black dog and an old, cloudy-eyed Dalmatian. Finally, the last few pens housed a Jack Russell terrier and some other smaller breeds.

  Chris’ heart sank. Normally pessimistic in nature, he had opened himself up to optimism and now he felt the crushing loss of Pepper all over again. With a lump in his throat, he crouched down and put his fingers through the grill of the Jack Russell’s pen. The little dog immediately wagged its tail and ran to its bed in the corner to pick up a ball. Chris sniffed as the animal returned to him, dropping the ball just out of reach of his fingers.

  ‘Go in if you want!’ shouted Marshall, fighting to make himself heard. ‘I’m told this one loves his ball more than anything!’

  Opening the door to the pen, Chris slipped through the narrow gap and was greeted by the perpetual motion of a whizzing tail as the terrier picked the ball up again and dropped it at his feet. Chris sank to his haunches once more and gathered up the ball, throwing it the length of the pen for the little dog to chase. In the space of two minutes, the Jack Russell brought it back to him twelve times.

  The barking dogs in the other pens had just quietened to a bearable level when a loud clang from the entrance started them off again. Now seated on the floor of the enclosure, Chris threw the ball one last time before standing up and brushing the dust from his jeans. Out in the walkway, Phil Marshall turned to address someone out of Chris’ line of sight. Looking back a moment later, Marshall gestured the youngster out of the pen.

  ‘This is Andy’ he shouted, pointing to a skinny, ginger-haired twentysomething that had appeared at the end of the walkway. Andy held up his hand in a greeting but received no response. Chris’ entire focus was drawn to the dog that had entered with him.

  It was a Golden Labrador.

  ‘Jesus!’ shouted Andy as the dog surged forward on its lead, almost pulling him over. ‘What’s got into her?’

  Looking from Chris at one end of the walkway to the straining dog at the other, Marshall folded his arms and took a step back. ‘I’d say it looks like they know each other. Let her go, Andy!’

  Tears welled in Chris’ eyes. He dropped to his knees and held out his arms as Andy reached down to unclip the lead from the dog’s collar. In a blur of golden fur the dog bolted the length of the walkway, bowling into Chris and almost knocking him over. His dislodged baseball cap fell to the floor as the dog jumped about, excitedly licking his face.

  ‘Oh my God! Pepper, it is you! I don’t believe it!’

  ‘Okay, let’s get outside!’ shouted Marshall. ‘I can’t hear a damn thing in here!’

  Five minutes later Chris McReedy was outside the brick building with Pepper back on her lead and the two men walking alongside him.

  ‘I thought I’d lost her for good’ said Chris, his voice quivering. ‘Do you know where she was found?’

  Andy scratched the nape of his scruffy ginger hair. ‘Uh, Kemsing, I think. Yeah, that was it. Pretty weird; she was lying next to the body of some old fella...’

  Chris stopped in his tracks and leaned over to look into the animal’s dark eyes. ‘God, I wish you could talk’ he said softly, seeing the familiar scars on her snout as well as one or two more recent scratches. Almost comically, Pepper tilted her head.

  No one would ever know how a split-second glance had stopped Arthur Cranley’s spear from being thrust deep into her neck all those weeks ago. In that critical moment the old tramp had noticed marks on her hide that he identified immediately as cigarette burns; the same signs of torture that he himself had been branded with. This animal, far from being food, had arrived as a kindred spirit.

  Cutting her free from the briars, the old man led her back to the shack where he was able to treat her injuries by using salves made from pulped leaves. In a sudden upturn of fortune he also managed to catch a large rabbit in one of the snares, which he skinned and ate that very evening (Pepper’s reward for bringing him luck was a healthy share of the meal). For that night at least, they were able to shut out the horrors of the world and sleep without hunger, although their burgeoning partnership would be agonisingly brief.

  Three days on from freeing Pepper from the thorny bushes and after two days of empty snares and empty bellies, man and dog were drawn back to the local village and into an encounter that would prove to be Arthur’s undoing. Infected with a single bite from a lone zombie, the wounded old man stumbled into the rubbish-strewn front room of a half-collapsed house. There, with the upturned spear jammed securely into a split floorboard, he locked his fingers behind the back of his head and forced it down onto the sharp point; piercing his temple, destroying his brain and pinning himself like the prized butterfly in a Victorian insect collection. Pepper, unable to comprehend what had happened to her new master, lay down beside his scarecrow-like body and did not move. She was also close to death when eventually discovered four whole days later by a random group of survivors. At a show of four hands to three, the group voted to take her with them rather than to euthanize her there and then.

  ‘Well,’ Marshall said to Chris, ‘it looks like it’s settled. I’m happy for you to help Andy out with the animals but we still need as many people making up fence panels as we can get. There’s a hell of a lot of work to be done out there.’

  ‘Sure’ said Chris, nodding enthusiastically. ‘No problem.’ With that, he patted the dog and the three men continued their lap of the compound.

  Chris would continue to smile for the rest of the day. When he returned to Sevenoaks (and to Paige) four weeks later, he would have Pepper with him.

  EPILOGUE

  Weeks turned into months and summer ended up as blisteringly hot as predicted. Progress was slow and laborious but throughout the length and breadth of the country the survivors were actually managing to get things done. Miles and miles of fencing were erected, creating zombie-free thoroughfares along which to travel, while the numbers of dead - mercifully - appeared to dwindle. Great areas of scarred land remained beyond the borders, off-limit expanses generally referred to as ‘the waste’. Work would begin there only when everything within the cordon had been achieved.

  Summer, and the increase in heat, presented other challenges. Flies, in particular, became a huge problem, and their presence required urgent action after a large number of people fell ill and one older person died. It was mooted that insects feeding on dead flesh and then landing on uncovered food may have caused the sickness, and in response the recently created anti-virus was quickly administered. Fortunately, it proved effective to everyone involved.

  The plague itself, however, remained.

  If anyone passed away, whether by zombie bite or natural causes, they continued to re-animate after death. For now, it seemed that minimising the chances of further outbreaks was the best that the recovering nation could hope for. Teams of officers were assigned to each community, specifically tasked with assessing the wellbeing of the occupants in their care (particularly the older or more vulnerable types). There was no time for sympathy either; if a person died, they had to be dealt with quickly and ruthlessly. Every single man, woman and child was made to understand that complacency or hesitancy would get you killed. In addition, self-defence training was stepped up to ensure that every person was made aware of how to deal with single or group zombie encounters.

  With the virus still active, communication with the larger world remained at a distance. Great Britain retained its no-go status, with not one single person permitted in or out. The channel tunnel, incredibly only partly damaged in the initial bombings, was sealed up and guarded around the clock to prevent the virus reaching mainland Europe. Aid was provided, however, in the form of unmanned drone-gliders, which were used to bring in food and medical supplies.

  The military response to information regarding the remaining Phoenix Society members was swift and conclusive, with British Special Forces intelligence used to galvanise troops already stationed overseas. Allied with the might of over a dozen other countries, further threats were neutralized with lethal efficiency before they could materialise. In all cases, no prisoners were reported as having been taken...

  Eventually, from the desolation, a new Great Britain was born, along with a new government and a new democracy. Cities were rebuilt brick by brick, roads and rivers were re-established and green pastures eventually regained their lushness. With only a tenth of the original population having survived, every single able bodied person was assigned duties with a bigger picture in mind.

  In the decades to come, new generations of Britons would commemorate 14/4 - the first day of the attacks - and give thanks to those that had sacrificed their lives for the liberty of their kin. A lasting memorial, a wall running from one end of the country to the other, would give every survivor the chance to record the names of those that had fallen as...

  ...Prey for the Dead

  C. A. Earl

  PREY

  FOR THE

  DEAD

  THE COLLECTION

  Thoughts from the Author

  It has to be set in England...

  That was my first thought.

  Write about what you know, they say.

  Okay, my knowledge of apocalyptic situations may not be extensive, but I do know about Britain, or Kent, to be more specific.

  Bingo. I had my location.

  A lot of zombie fiction glosses over the beginning of the invasion, starting the reader off in a wasteland swarming with the undead. Despite being a huge fan of the genre, I always found it hard to take on board the fact that zombies would be able to get the upper hand over mankind, especially in the modern age.

  So what if I hurt mankind first; weakened them somehow?

  The Phoenix Society was born, and with it would come a terrorist attack horrifying enough to bring the country to its knees as well as giving us the cause of the zombie virus.

  Now I just needed my cast of players...

  For me, the everyman is the most interesting of characters. I didn’t want the square-jawed, muscle-bound hero; I wanted the reluctant leader, the flawed character who was just as likely to crack in a tense situation as well as win through.

  Enter stage right, Ben and Katie Reilly.

  I envisaged them as a childless but content couple, with events in PftD making them surrogate parents in more ways than one. With them came the supporting cast; the aging war veteran, the recently ex boyfriend and girlfriend, the shotgun wielding farmer and his increasingly unstable son.

  Oh yeah, and a dog.

  I make no secret about the fact that I am a dog lover. Pepper the golden Labrador is based on a real-life canine of the same name. She came into my family when I was at primary school and left us when I was a working man. She was a huge part of my childhood, and some of the happiest memories of my younger life include her. As well as Pepper, certain other dogs make fleeting appearances too; a cloudy-eyed Dalmatian and a ball-obsessed Jack Russell terrier, both recent real-life family members.

  With my cast complete, I began writing Book One in the summer of 2014 while on holiday in Greece. I was loaded with ideas, and as a result the first five chapters came to me incredibly quickly. I love writing in the early hours when all is eerily quiet (my creative side is at its peak then, even if a fair bit of editing is required later!). Without my trusty laptop, an old notepad became home to the scruffiest handwriting ever seen! When I leaf through that pad now, I find all sorts of notes about characters that were either expanded or rejected, as well as entire scenes that didn’t quite make the cut.

  As Book One evolved, some initial ideas fell by the wayside. Sarah Janson was originally created as a more heroic character, but I found myself writing her as much more vulnerable. Some of the courageous traits I had laid out for her eventually found their way into the characters of Lucy Tyler (from Book Two) and Paige Ryder (from Book Three).

  Chris McReedy, Sarah’s discarded boyfriend, became a favourite for me to write, mainly because of his kinship with Pepper. It was easy for me to write from the heart through his character when I had grown up with the real-life canine.

  As well as a copious amount of notes, I drew a few pencil sketches of the main characters as well, borrowing features and mannerisms from actors that I imagined playing them on the big screen. I’ve heard that some other writers do this. It certainly works for me.

  In August 2015 I released Book One, which was well received. I was conscious that the initial lack of undead might turn off the most ardent zombie fans looking for a quick fix, but it did seem as though my concerns were unfounded. At the time of its release I was halfway through my first draft of Book Two, which emerged the following July to an equally positive critical reception. Finally, on the last day of 2017, Book Three was released. I was pleased that enough interest was retained for people to sign on until the end; there’s a hell of a lot of apocalyptic fiction out there to compete with!

  During 2018 I gave thought to the very project you are holding right now, a collected volume of all three books with some extras. This was shelved in favour of another project (my revised fantasy novel, ‘The Blood Hunters’) but is now finally able to see the light of day.

  I toyed with adding deleted scenes in a kind of ‘Director’s Cut’ collection, but instead decided on a brief insight into my thought process and an additional work entitled ‘Revelations’. This short piece addresses something from the original trilogy that I originally wanted to reveal at the end of Book Three, but felt that the climax would have been diluted with too much post-apocalypse chat.

  On the subject of revelations, one question that I occasionally get asked is about the recurring ‘girl in the blue party dress’. The query is normally whether Ben Reilly is imagining this girl at certain points or if he is actually seeing her for real. Without nailing this down conclusively, I wanted him to have a reminder of the innocence and frailty of youth and also to have a constant regret that he didn’t save her, even though he did not have the opportunity to do so.

  So, here we are. If you’ve been onboard since the start, I thank you with all of my heart. And if you just happen to have found this in a rubbish bin and have leafed through to this page, you’re welcome too.

  Craig Earl (February 2019)

  PREY

  FOR THE

  DEAD

  ‘ REVELATIONS ’

  The following takes place seven months after the initial terrorist attacks.

  ‘REVELATIONS’

  ~ 1 ~

  Doctor Emily Richards shifted impatiently in her seat, her fingers rhythmically tapping the surface of the thick file of documents on the desk in front of her. Away to her right, a second desk supported a large flat screen monitor that was wired up to a box unit below it. Ten feet ahead of her and seated along a large table, two men and one woman were busy muttering to each other before the thin man at their centre rose to his feet.

  ‘Let’s begin then’ he said loudly, quelling the murmurs from the elderly, well-dressed individuals on either side. ‘You called this meeting, doctor. The floor is yours.’

  Emily stood slowly and pushed back against her chair, making it screech raucously on the polished wooden floor. The large meeting room was empty apart from the four of them, and every tiny sound seemed amplified. Suddenly conscious of her dishevelled appearance, she brushed a wisp of curly hair away from her face and re-adjusted her ponytail. Given more time, she would have worn something other than her wrinkled lab coat and certainly would have done something to hide the dark circles under her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the thick file and approached the panel, the heels of her scuffed shoes clicking with each step.

 

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