Not Dead Yet: A British Zombie Apocalypse Series - Books 1-3, page 71
“‘Commenting on the event, one officer, a Major Fergus Murphy said, my dear Jack was supposed to have been back at Rochester convalescing from wounds already sustained, not disobeying orders to voyage into Scotland alone and ahead of his own regiment to singlehandedly vanquish the enemy before we even got chance for a look in. It was most vexing to be denied a stab but that’s our Jack and we wouldn’t have it any other way.’”
It was a slight embellishment but I’d take it.
The paper fell from Savage’s grasp. “Is this true?”
I nodded. “Aye, tis all true. What of it?”
Air involuntarily escaped him and he shook his head as he tried to find the words. “Tell me, Captain, what weapon were you furnished with at the time?”
I hummed, tried to remember, “oh, twas just a standard issue cavalry long sword. I don’t have it no more, I believe it was put up at auction and now belongs to Frederick William IV of Prussia.” After a short silence. “That would be the King.”
His face jerked back as he persisted to stare. I’m not sure how long past but eventually, he threw up his hands. “Well, Excalibur of Edinburgh, luckily there are some around here who know a thing or two about the lying press. Did you know they’ve been referring to me as a madman?”
“Oh, no.”
“Aye, it’s true, they have, amongst other heinous names but even if I’m not fully convinced, there are others around here who are and now he’s got the bloody spook.”
I waited for him to say more, the fellow was utterly dazed this morning. “You are talking about Metcalfe, right?”
He nodded and came closer, like my reaction was of great interest. “That’s right, he no longer wants to play swords.”
“Oh, thank God,” I cried and inhaled this beautiful moment.
“Which is exactly how I suspected you’d react but try getting him to change his mind.” He folded his arms. “No, the man’s spooked good, and no matter what I say in attempts to convince him it’s all rot, he won’t have any of it. Believe your own eyes, is what I said, you saw him at the river, this Strappy clown is likely about as handy with a blade as he is with anything else, just stick him with the bloody point, right in that bulging paunch, give it a twist and enjoy watching him squeal. I even pleaded with him, told him to think of his poor sister, please just do for him this morning so we can be rid, but no, he won’t. Aye, it’s true he ain’t a swordsman but nor should he need to be … unless …” again the words failed to come. “I … I just don’t see it. The whole nation’s truly gone insane and you continue to fool some, even now.”
Baird poked his nob inside, “just checking you’re all right, Jack? Hear the news, did you? I know you wanted to be at him but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until Kempsey now, pistols it’ll be. Awfully sorry,” he pulled out and Savage grimaced.
He shook his head. “Aye, we’ll have you at Kempsey, my lad, all you’ve done is buy a day or so extra, nothing more.”
We’d soon see about that. One might hazard I’d have an admirer or two among a garrison of men, whereas Savage was likely to have an equal number, or more, of hardened rogues out for his blood. I’d simply hide behind whoever was in charge, endeavour to do whatever was necessary to spread poison, offer bribes, or whatnot, in order to aid his speedy departure from this world. Metcalfe too. That, or scream bloody murder at the top of my voice to anyone who’d listen.
Reluctantly, Savage unbound my wrists, ankles and bade me leave and so, feeling weary, I unstuck myself from the sheets and collected my weapons that were waiting on a table. My strategy now must surely be to keep out of the way of these very mean people - Two hours is all I needed, head down and mouth shut. For the love of God, Jack, but how hard could it be?
Yawning, I emerged outside the house and into the early morning light to where Willie was clutching his back standing beside two of the trunks that were lying in the dirt.
“Ah, good morning, Strappy, breakfast at Kempsey it is. Not far to go.” We watched each other and I had the impression he was waiting for me to turn away so he’d not be witnessed giving himself a hernia. Either that or he was expecting some help. “Thought I’d make a start on these irons, get the things settled for the journey,” he nodded and I nodded back, “rather heavy, they are, Jack,” I nodded, “we’ll not be taking the rest of them, they’re all ruined anyway so it’s just these two, the important ones.”
Savage spared me from having to respond when he emerged from the house, bobbing his head low under the lintel and looking like he was en route to the theatre. Barely a hair was out of place and even his boots were shining. He glanced skywards and grinned before proceeding to strut around the yard like he owned the place. Baird came out wiping his eyes, immediately followed by Metcalfe who made brief eye contact with me before breaking it, his hands at all times clutching those deadly Colts, temporarily redundant even as they were. Oddly, he now had a sabre strapped to his belt, which could only have come from the owner’s possessions somewhere, a short straight thing meant for combat at close quarters and what most likely pre-dated modern warfare.
Nobody spoke now, which was noticeable, Metcalfe had turned away from everybody while the rest waited for Savage, who’d untied his breeches to commence pissing against a tree. When he finished he came bounding towards us, his earlier grin wiped away.
“Now listen here, you hounds, Mister Metcalfe, I’m talking to you too, get your spineless arse over here this second. Now, despite the apparent simplicity of the mission we were handed, it so happens we’ve been dogged by misfortune, mishaps, accidents and catastrophe regardless but the way I see it is that’s all past.” He flapped a hand over his head to emphasise that it was all behind us. “We’re a mere pissing distance from completing the first part of our mission, delivering those two boxes right there. Easy, right? Well listen here, because I’ve had it with your complete failure in everything you attempt,” although he meant me, and everyone knew it, he was glancing between the others, “and although I said your ineptitude is all in the past, clean slate and all that tosh, what I meant to say was this…” now he clocked me with those dark eyes and there was no question to my mind that whatever he was about to say, he’d mean it, “the very next bastard who jeopardises this mission or reduces the speed at which I arrive at Kempsey will spend the rest of his short life begging for a quick death.”
Willie kicked dust, which stole the maniac’s attention.
“Something you have to say, Colonel?” When Willie shook his head, Savage thrust him out of the way before scooping up both irons in a single swoop. “Then move, all of you!”
We did as he said, Baird and I shifted at a pace toward the stable from where he helped remove the bar before throwing it aside. We each swung a door outwards and beheld the spectacle that was the stable interior.
“What?” It was Willie who was first to react. “Horace? Horace? Where’s Horace?”
Metcalfe muttered something in unintelligible Southern drawl as Savage sent the crates crashing against the ground. “And where’s the rest of them?”
“Oh, no.” By now, Baird was regarding me cautiously from the corner of his eye while I was in the process of entering a mind stupor, eyes glazing over and mouth parting in some dopey expression. Finally, I shook it away and focused on the solitary horse stood before us, Otis, my own, who was chomping at a pile of damp straw with a large pile of dung resting beneath his tail that flapped at a persistent fly. He raised his head and in the moment, to me at least, he appeared to wink. I backed away, one step, two…
“It was tha captain who was s’posed to tend tha horses.” Metcalfe put in, helpfully.
“Horace!” Willie called again, the panic in his tone making him sound considerably less raspy than normal and he rushed within to inspect every crevice of the structure, as though it couldn’t have been done from the outside. Boots ground on dirt and angry men were turning to face me.
My mind clouded over again, it had been I who was given the task of tending the beasts the afore night, which I’d done true enough, or so was my recollection. If some fellow had stolen inside the stable during the night and taken every horse but mine, such an occurrence could hardly be blamed on me. Notwithstanding my colleagues’ lingering and ever increasing animosity toward our nation’s most valiant hero, only the most hard-faced of men could hold me responsible for freak happenings far outside the realms of my control … Oh, no, wait, hang on. There had been a minor incident. I’d been left all alone, I was terribly on edge and at some point, I had heard a noise and, along with Otis, slipped my cable and fled into the trees.
And there it was.
“He did it!” Savage jabbed his finger into my cheek and yelled, “I can see it in your face.” It was the most abysmal thing I’d ever heard. Five minutes that reprieve lasted. I was breaking records today and I’d not yet had breakfast.
Something inside me dropped and in the appalling moment, I even considered an audacious bolt for Otis, to attempt a rare speedy mount before charging away to disappear through the morning mist. But as yet, Otis had neither been saddled nor bridled and although I’d always considered myself a skilled horseman, riding bareback was not a required attribute for your everyday upstanding upper-class boy. Regardless, my boot scuffed against mud as I took that first fretful step to freedom, but the odds of escape were so hopeless, and Savage had already angled toward the horse, cutting me off, that my boot simply dug in, giving up at once, and kicking up a small cloud from the ground and thus ending any hope of escape. Worse, they’d all witnessed the forlorn move, and now there’d be no pinning the mishap on anyone else, not even the horses because I’d just as good as admitted that yet again I’d sabotaged the mission, this time through sheer incompetence.
By now the traitor’s face had turned purple and was furnished with an odd expression somewhere between apoplexy and something else I’d never before seen in another man, in fact, I could swear the vein in his neck had burst. In an instant, his clam was around my collar and I was being hauled away from the stable before being flung across the mud, to roll several yards, and coming to a stop only because I slammed into the wall of the house. My knees and elbows were grazed and the entire front of my uniform was covered in mud, a button rolled down the dirt track and had I chance to check, I’d be sure my breeches were torn.
Savage was already upon me as his boot came down to press hard against my belly, pinning me to the ground. “Shovel,” he ordered and Metcalfe dashed off to disappear around the side of the house.
I attempted to squirm out from under him but he pressed down harder. “What? What are you going to do?”
Savage didn’t answer me but instead called over his shoulder to the others. “Either of you interferes and you’ll be beside him.” His foot twisted and it hurt like bloody hell.
Baird and Willie pottered closer but merely exchanged a glance, if I still assumed my Pagan brother might come forth in my defence I was to be disappointed.
Metcalfe returned carrying a shovel which he threw down beside my squirming form.
Savage released his boot and roared. “Now dig, you cretin.”
I came to my knees and my voice sounded about as high-pitched as ever I’d heard it. “What, what are you going to do to me?”
“You’re digging your own grave, is what.”
Baird took another step forward, Willie didn’t.
Savage shot a look back over his shoulder. “I warned him, as I warned you all … the very next man who disgraces himself … well, what do you call losing our horses?” He drew his nasty blade, which scraped terrifyingly from its scabbard, and brought the point to hover menacingly close to my eyes. “Dig, you fiend, and don’t even think about turning that spade upon us.”
What else could I do but dig? Nothing, is what, so dig I did, while babbling all kinds of incoherence, things about my mother and playing in the meadows as a child. Adrenaline and funk coursed through me so that, despite my weary body from a sleepless night, the shovel sliced easily enough through the earth. “I’m digging,” I sobbed, doing as the awful man bade, weeping while my mind fought to find some way to deliverance but all I could come up with was to pacify the traitor by digging, so that maybe by the time it was done, he’d be tempered somewhat and may no longer wish to stuff my still twitching body down into the hole before covering it with earth. At some point, I must have made a silent appeal to Colonel Willie because he stepped forward with arms folded.
“Don’t look at me, Captain, that horse was a prized stud. Do you have any idea how much a fluid ounce of Horace’s seed was worth? That’s my children’s inheritance you’ve allowed to wander off to Lord knows where and all because you’re too stupid to carry out the simplest of tasks.”
“Oh, God, no,” I yelled, turfing out another heap of muck and flinging it toward the ever-growing pile. “Please, you’re all just trying to scare me, oh, but I’ve learned, I’ve learned my lesson and I’ll never do it again, I promise.”
“Quiet!” My principal tormentor slapped me across the back with the flat of his sabre. “And get a move on, I’ve better things to attend this day than seeing the last of your sorry mug.”
After several minutes, I’d dug as far as my knees and the sweat was pouring off the tip of my nose. Several times, I glanced over at Baird and each time he looked away. The injustice of it all, after everything I’d survived only to be maltreated like this, to be knocked off by my own comrades for the crime of trying to protect myself. It was an outrageous way to treat a man of my calibre. Suddenly, I was all righteous umbrage, throwing down the shovel and glaring up at the ogre.
“I’m not having this, you rogue, I’ve learned my lesson, I’ve said I’m sorry and I’ll say it again, but you’re not doing for me this way, I tell you.”
Savage raised his sabre and snarled. “The shovel, pick it up, now!”
“Ok, ok.” The tears recommenced in earnest as I found the memories flooding back of the other time I’d been forced, against my will, to dig my own grave. Aye, this would be the second occasion in a little over two years. Perchance I was going wrong somewhere.
By now I was drenched and heaving for air, I dared stop for a breather and the animal kicked a pile of earth into my face.
“Who said you could stop? Dig!”
I did and spat the filth from my mouth. “A drink, I must drink.”
Finally, Baird stepped forth and offered his flask. “Here you go, Jack.”
I seized it and tugged away feverishly.
“Who said you could help him?” My tormentor growled.
Baird held out his palms. “He’s still my friend, Mister Savage, a brother unto death.”
Savage shook his head and flapped a hand before reaching down and grabbing the flask. “You’ve had enough, mushy pea, it’ll all be leaking from your gizzard soon enough anyway.”
I was now as far down as my arse, easily deep enough to be buried, indeed, if I was getting a grave this deep, I almost dared consider I ought be thankful for the courtesy, which just went to show how bad my situation had become. Maybe the monster just wanted me to suffer for longer. At one point, I even glanced up at Metcalfe, half in the hope he might be tempted to save me, if only so he could kill me later, which was when I knew how futile my position truly was. He was grinning and that waxy skin was glowing like never before. The ordeal had lasted for so long that at some point, the American had loaded the two crates of engine parts onto Otis, a trip I’d never make to a destination I’d never see. By now, I was so winded it hurt to breathe. God only knew how I must have looked and damned if I hadn’t soiled my breeches. Again, I made silent pleadings to Baird and this time he maintained my eye as his face softened. He was just about to say something when, to my astonishment, it was the colonel who stepped forward.
“Ok, Mister Savage, I think the lad’s learned his lesson. Let him out and let’s get going.”
Savage slowly twisted to face him. “Lesson? Lesson, you say?” He scratched at his parting. “I finished with lessons the day I graduated Oxford, you think I give a damn about lessons?”
Willie flapped a hand as if to say sorry Strappy, I tried but I’m all out of ideas, best of luck in the afterlife.
“So we’ll just have to walk, Mister Savage,” it was Baird and my heart soared, “come on now, you lazy oaf, it’ll take about six hours instead of two, is it really the end of the world? They’ll not be the last horses you ever see.”
“And we might find them on the way,” I blubbered, helpfully.
“Damn your eyes,” Savage returned, “I’ve had enough of all of it. It’s literally one thing after another with this fellow. The cretin’s been testing my patience since before we even left Blenheim,” he jabbed a thumb in my direction, “he’s incapable of improving no matter how hard he tries, even if his very life depends on it, he just can’t do it.”
“Look, Mister Savage,” spoke Willie, “there’s none here who’s angrier at Strappy than I, he lost Horace, for starters, but mistakes happen and we’re still lucky to have him as part of our group, despite everything.”
“Agreed,” added Baird.
Savage turned on the pair of them. “It’s incredible, the entire nation really has gone insane. What more does he have to do? What more need you witness before you believe what you’re seeing with your own damned eyes?” He raised his voice suddenly. “Look, he’s digging his own bloody grave and all because I told him. What kind of a warrior does that?”
“Oh, please, I’m so sorry,” I sobbed.
