Not Dead Yet: A British Zombie Apocalypse Series - Books 1-3, page 6
“Quiet! Let’s get straight to business, shall we.” The iron bar didn’t even twitch. “There’ll be a wake this evening for our fallen comrades, troopers Logan and Conroy. Attendance is mandatory.” There were murmurs of affirmation. “Naturally, this will be a celebration of their lives as well as an acknowledgement to the duty they served the regiment, Ireland and Britannia. Bring your wives if you’re unlucky enough to have one and let’s all share a few ales in their memory.”
He continued by assigning new lieutenants to captains to majors and informed everybody, new and old as to their squads and what was expected of them. It was all largely irrelevant to me, of course, knowing I wouldn’t be around much longer for any of it to be worth listening to, so I spent the time thinking about what I might do after returning to England. It was a great pity I was only eighteen years of age because I might have been an ideal candidate for politics.
My mind only regained clarity when my eyes passed over Captain Lynch, who’d evidently been studying me for a while as he swirled the ale around in his glass. After seven or eight seconds of him refusing to look away, I admit he had me cowed, and I turned away to stare at the planks where my gaze remained.
Then in the most sickening way imaginable, the colonel’s words brought my full attention back to him. “And don’t think for one minute we’ll let the deaths of our comrades rest or go unavenged…no sirs…but we’ll stick it to ‘em presently and see what our new boys are made of. Which is why in three days hence, we’ll be heading south, full force to take it to the dead head on.” He continued to suggest we spend the rest of the day, before the wake, and then more time after that, training and drilling but all I could think about was how my insides were dissolving within me and that it’d be a near impossible task to obtain a discharge or sell my commission before then.
If things weren’t bad enough, after arriving on the parade ground to hone my fighting skills, I soon discovered just why Captain Lynch had been showing such interest in me.
“I’m under your tutelage?” I asked whilst fearing my heart might cease beating at any moment.
“Weren’t you listening? Or perhaps you don’t think the colonel speaks loudly enough.” If that was his idea of a joke then it was probably the best I could hope for.
I rubbed the back of my neck and sought urgent clarification. “And in three days we’re definitely heading out to find the dead?”
He ignored me completely and instead slowly raised his pistol, took aim with his one functioning eye, pulled the trigger and the tiny red dot at the centre of the target, which stood all the way over by the far walls, disappeared from the direct hit. He then made me wait even longer as he recharged the pistol twice more, hitting the same spot on both occasions. “The best damned shot in the regiment…that’s me, and everybody knows it.” Why was he telling me this? Because the man wasn’t bragging. No, he wanted me to know for some other sick reason, whatever that was, though given the present company, I could simply strike him off as just another lunatic who, had it not been for the army, would doubtless have ended up drunk and living in a ditch with only a potato sack for a roof.
Proving too much of a distraction, the black patch interrupted my thoughts and he noticed my discomfort.
“Lost my eye during the Charge.” How did I know he’d say that? “And I wouldn’t change a feckin’ thing about it.” He examined me top to bottom and I wasn’t sure whether I detected the smallest smirk creep upon his lips. “And when you tally up your war wounds, you’ll be proud of them too.”
I decided against telling him I had zero intention of racking up any such wounds and changed the subject back to where I wanted it. “Look, Lynch, I…”
He bucked, stamped his boot and twisted on me like some sergeant major stereotype and screamed “…That’s Captain Lynch, or sir, you lowly worm,” the proximity was discomforting for my ears and a knot of troopers lowered their swords to nosey.
I took two steps back from the crackpot but, unable to be so easily dissuaded from my task, pressed on with what I needed to say. “Captain Lynch, sir, look, this is madness. The colonel can’t possibly send the entire regiment out at such short notice. I’m not speaking for myself, you understand, but take a look around you, half our officers arrived only yesterday. We’re not ready. We need training, drilling, time to get acquainted with command, time to get to know the men. I’ve barely even broken in my horse and already the colonel,” the bloodthirsty maniac, “he’s out for blood. He’s asking too much from such green troops, it’s not how Britannia conquered the world, I tell you. Listen to me…we lost two good men only yesterday. How many more is he willing to squander?” I was getting emotional with an officer who was too seasoned to give a damn, but I didn’t care, I just had to get out of it by any means at my disposal.
His one eye seemed to recede an inch back inside his head. “Are you quite mad, Strapper? Take a look around you.” He gestured outwards with his hands, which my eyes followed toward men practising with swords or pistols - so what? “Ireland is dying. Our people are disappearing by the day as the dead rise up to kill the living. Do you expect the few remaining fighting men to sit back and prance about behind the safety of the barrack walls whilst our women, young and elderly are attacked in their villages?” He raised his voice into a rare passion, his finger prodded at my chest. “You think we have the time or resources to give you or any other upstart a standard thirty-week training? Because by then the whole population of this island could be dead.” He now thrashed his arms about in a visible demonstration of his mania. “You can ride, Strapper, you can hold a feckin’ sword…so you can fight. And that’s all there is to it.”
Finishing with me and assuming I was in no way the sort to push my luck with a superior, he turned back to his target, raising his pistol, but I interrupted his aim with a hand on the forearm. Astonishingly, I was unable to shift his trajectory but I most certainly felt his arm tense from fury as his jaw clenched.
The man was like a gunpowder store with a stray spark so I tempered my tone to avoid setting him off. “But can’t you see? This is madness. You’re sending out men who aren’t ready to fight, which can only lead to more deaths, and then what good will it do?”
He uncocked his pistol and turned silently to take what seemed like an appraisal of my physicality; height, weight, musculature, which wasn’t too bad for one so young, I say. Up close, I could see he had the standard cavalry whiskers, blond, which I’d not noticed from the earlier distance because they were trimmed so obscenely fine and blended in so well with his complexion and I could only speculate as to the effort and amount of tending they required. Finally, he finished by scrutinising my own bristles, far more dashing, aye. “What are you so afraid of Strapper? You’ve already proven yourself, haven’t you? You can fight…unless there’s something you’re not letting on?”
I had to think quick to guide his mind away from that area. “Um, look, these ghouls, they like to attack villages, right? So why not give them an even better target? Why not bring the people behind the safety of Londonderry’s walls.” I gestured out with my arms to encompass my Saviour, those big, beautiful walls of solid stone. “We have the largest, highest, thickest walls in Ireland. To the blazes with it, but what’s the point if we don’t use them?”
He visibly ground his teeth before me. “Are you mad? Bring four million souls behind the walls? And how long would that take? Where would they live? And what about food and clean water?” His fist shook. “Now you listen here, you little green maggot who purchased his captaincy…I’ve had just about enough of this…you’re wasting valuable training time, so why don’t you just leave the business of command and logistics to those who’ve been around the place more than ten minutes.”
There was just no making these people see sense and I wondered if experiencing the Charge had made the regiment collectively insane. I’d certainly yet to meet a single Paddy who didn’t wish death upon himself and all those around him.
But now it was my turn to grit my teeth and clench my fist in utter frustration because I wasn’t about to give up, my safety depended on it. “But what about military tactics? You can’t just put up cavalry against a strong enemy on foot…they’ll annihilate us.” Or so I assumed. “Where’s the infantry and artillery?” Let them do the bloody work. “Look, just suggest it to the colonel, would you? Nice and friendly like. He’ll listen to you.”
I half expected him to explode on me again but to my surprise, there were no gesticulations of anger or even annoyance. Instead, he simply regarded me with curiosity. “Tell me again, Captain Strapper…how many dead did you say you slay yesterday?”
A tingle shot down my back, which I could only put down as some sort of new cowardly symptom. “Oh, I don’t know…seven, eight…it was hard to tell in the heat of battle. Perhaps you should ask Lieutenant Sheehan.”
He folded his arms across his chest and the bulk of his biceps forced out the sleeves of his redcoat. “Huh…interesting.”
He turned his back on me, fired his shot, again hitting the bullseye and without another word, stumped away toward the stables.
I primed my pistol with a quivering wreck of a hand, took careful aim and pulled the trigger, the bullet striking the wall some distance to the side of the target to explode into dust.
Would I ever see England again?
More Tribulations
So much for being my tutor, I didn’t see or hear from Lynch until several hours later, which gave cause to suspect there were unknown reasons he was assigned to me, perhaps to feel me out, or else to inspire me with yet more terror. Or maybe these people, as well as the dead, were just making me paranoid.
It was four o’clock in the afternoon when I’d had enough of trying to make it look like I had the foggiest of what I was doing and scurried into the latrines, a place I’d discovered one could perch in relative serenity, and since I was all alone, I took the opportunity to write an angry letter to my uncle.
I demanded that he at once secure my release from the army on account of there being an ongoing bloody war…worse, an apocalypse, which was entirely contradictory to the terms of my initial enrolment. Further, I allowed no room for misinterpretation as to how disappointed I was with the man, who’d allowed his nephew to travel to Ireland without carrying out all necessary and prior checks as to its safety. I was in the process of sealing the envelope when I heard the conversation through the open windows.
“Ah, Captain Lynch, how dee do, I see you’ve been teaching the young Strapper the tricks of the trade. There’s one for the future, what? How’s he been getting on?” As I strained my ears to eavesdrop, I recognised the good-natured voice of Major Murphy.
The silence stretched for an uncomfortable period. “Been watching him…can’t seem to shoot straight, is what.” There was the strike of a match and then smoke drifted upwards through the window. “No, no, Major, allow me.”
“Ever so kind. Must be damned handy with a blade though, what? Not bad on a horse either, I suspect.”
Another pause. “That’s just it. There’s something that just doesn’t quite add up with the boy and I’m determined to find out.”
“Determined to find out? Oh, Captain, you are hard on the lad. Didn’t he just arrive all the way from the safety of England…he didn’t have to do that…had no reason to, yet here he is.”
A plume of dirty smoke blew in through the crack. “Oh, sure, he’s brave, that’s what everyone keeps saying. But there’s something that just doesn’t sit right with him. His demeanour and manner is all off…I’ve never before seen it in a cavalryman, and I’ve trained hundreds of them.”
“Oh, Captain, I hope this isn’t merely because he wasn’t with you at the Charge, because if it is, you can count me in too on that score…bought my majority only last month…for love of country you see. Not my fault there’s not much need for teaching these days…oh, how I long to get back to the chalk and slate. But as for young Strapper, doesn’t Lieutenant Sheehan vouch for him? You know the lieutenant…ain’t he a good judge of a man?”
Lynch hummed in agreement. “I’m just vexed about the whole thing. The boy don’t even look like a cavalryman, or an officer for that matter, or much of a man even, and here he is calling himself a cavalry officer…the same rank as me, bigod, and I’ve been with the regiment nigh on ten years. Where’s the justice in that, aye?”
“Ah, Captain Lynch, so that’s what this is all about. Well, didn’t I myself just purchase above you, so I assume you’re also bitter about my advancement on that score?”
“Yes, but you’re not swanning about like you own the damned place…on account…on account of one man’s interpretation of what he thought he saw.”
“Oh, come along now, Captain. The whole regiment knows Captain Strapper slaughtered all those dead savages, charged right at ‘em all alone, didn’t he by Jove. They say the lad was covered in blood and I’ve seen his uniform…offered the wife to clean it for him, you see. Oh, I do hope he joins us for dinner one night…would make a fine guest, I’ve no doubt.” After another long silence, during which I thought they’d dispersed, Major Murphy spoke again. “I must admit…had doubts myself upon meeting him…but once you get to know the lad you’ll see the metal he’s made of…I see it…we all do…and you will too if you give it chance.”
Enemies, friends; it was interesting what one could learn when squatting in the latrine.
It was clear to me I needed allies and quick. Major Murphy was likeable and could perhaps even turn people’s opinions in my favour, but he’d be no good in a fight and I also suspected he was far too principled and trustworthy to be much fun in the meantime. Which is why I again looked to Captain Dolan and I maintain that there’s no easier or more efficient a method of acquainting yourself with a man, and having him feel at ease with you, than to take him out wenching at the local bawdy house.
He’d put up a token resistance, on account of being ‘a good Catholic boy,’ yet had required only seconds to be persuaded, although I did have to sub him some tin due to being broke after purchasing his captaincy. It was some dandy information to store in memory for when needed, aye.
Since my arrival, I’d already spent considerable time with the local harlots, running them in, and found them much the same as you’d expect to find in England or anywhere else; perhaps a little less to grab ahold of, on account of the famine, and redder of hair on average but apart from that, I’d be hard pressed to find much difference. On the off chance it might have been one of my final nights on earth, I was intent on having fun, so I purchased three, took them to my usual parlour and didn’t spare the crop.
When I finally emerged, I was horrified to find Dolan had gone sweet on his wench and had to be talked out of bringing her along to the wake, which we were running late for. Indeed, I had a harder job talking him out of this latest bout of madness than convincing him to come in the first place.
“I fear I’m in love Strappy.”
I slapped my forehead and dragged him away by the wrist. “Don’t be ridiculous, she’s had nearly every soldier in town, several times…get a move on, would you?”
He resisted me. “How can I leave her, for some other soldier to come and have her? It’ll be the end of me Strappy.”
“It’ll be the end of us both if we don’t hurry to the town hall.”
Despite this, I’d at least succeeded in corrupting him, sort of, which most likely meant he could be bent in other ways too. Either way, I had my ally, even if a lowly captain like myself.
We were late, as it happened, by over an hour but nobody kicked up a fuss and the reason why was soon made apparent.
Because the whole town hall was uproarious with unrestrained merriment. Better still, we’d missed the speeches and upon entering the ballroom, where fiddlers were pumping elbows like Dolan had been pumping his hips a mere hour before, we were accosted by several jovial officers who insisted on passing around glasses of sherry.
To think I’d been dreading the event. You see, it was my first Irish wake, and I wasn’t to know it was just another excuse for the Paddies to get drunk as a judge.
We were on our second drink when Major Murphy found us loitering at the bar. “Ah Jack, glad you could make it.” He gestured with his glass at the ballroom floor, which seemed to contain half of Londonderry society, certainly the better part of it. “There are many ideas as to the origin of the Irish wake. One belief goes that it originated from the Irish fondness for drinking stout, which stupidly we used to drink from copper mugs. Of course, the result was everybody got poisoned.”
“This must be the school teacher in you.”
“School teacher?” He squinted. “I never told you I was a school teacher?”
“Oh, I mean…you look like one, that’s all.”
He nodded in genuine appreciation of my astuteness. “Anyway, my point is that one of the symptoms of being poisoned was that it put you into a catatonic state, where you appeared to be dead but would then wake up after you’d been buried…terrible business, you understand?” I could imagine nothing worse. He continued, “that is why, to this day, we have friends watch over the corpse, just to make sure they don’t awaken.” He clapped me on the back and laughed. “A practice even more necessary these days, don’t you think?”
I glanced a path through the dancers toward an opened door to another room from where it was none other than Captain Lynch who now sat between the two opened caskets, his blade perched menacingly over his lap. “Perhaps not so necessary, considering Lieutenant Sheehan already split both their heads with his sabre.”
Murphy laughed and spilt sherry over the side of his glass. “Oh, fiddlesticks…it’s tradition and makes no difference if their brains and vital organs are presently feeding the crows.”
