Not Dead Yet: A British Zombie Apocalypse Series - Books 1-3, page 74
“It’s not right,” Savage balled up the paper and threw it at my head, “it’s just not right. It’s all lies, it has to be. There’s no justice in this world. I’ve led a hundred skirmishes against mutineers, stood in the centre of infantry lines, been shot at thousands of times, and not a word of thanks. I stole inside the residency at Lucknow, into the bedchamber of the rebel aristocrat and cut his throat and what do I get? Two years rotting in the worst prison imaginable, followed by a death sentence, while this cretin,” he meant me, “destroys everything he touches and receives the most outrageous rewards on behalf of a sycophantic, fawning, stupid nation. I’m literally lost for words.”
“Doesn’t sound like it to me,” Willie was on the settee facing away and he sounded beyond weak.
“Colonel Willie, this is an affront to every officer in the British Army, are you so satisfied with your lot in life that you don’t feel slighted by this injustice?”
“All I care about is dying in peace, you awful man. You talk of British officers? Well, your constant whinging is hardly fitting of a British officer and I’ll tell you now, I’ve had just about enough of it. Mind, you ain’t a British officer no more, are you.”
“This again, Colonel?” He pointed at me, even though Willie wasn’t looking. “This idiot has failed the mission for us all, not to mention leaving us helpless and…”
“Just how you left our women helpless at Bibighar, you mean, when the relief never came? Well, you’re getting a taste of your own medicine now, aren’t you?” Willie’s voice was so raspy and faint it was hard to understand any of it and he must have been expending energy he didn’t have just to speak. “But at least you may count yourself lucky your rotting corpse ain’t getting stuffed down a well like theirs.”
Savage tugged himself closer, sliding across the floor while upsetting and smudging the newspapers with blood. “You hold me responsible for that? No man can possibly say whether my arriving would have prevented it. A tragedy, is what it was, Colonel, they wanted to massacre our people, they’d have found a way no matter the time I arrived with the rifles.”
“Or not arrived.” Willie turned around and I flinched at the figure he presented. His skin was almost white and it was then I saw the cushions on which he lay were drenched in red. “You hardly helped. There were many more who died besides and there’s no disputing where the blame lies for all those poor souls, at least not to my mind.” Willie’s eyes readjusted and he needed a moment to see who was also present in the room. “Ah, how-dee-do there, Strappy, you might be interested in knowing the Yank’s spent the last hour fanning at a clump of wet powder with a newspaper. Now, why do you think he’d be doing that?”
I gasped and one look at the American was to know it was all true as his top lip curled upwards into an evil grin. What’s more, he was concealing something beneath a newspaper. Well, I’d soon see to that mischief, all right, just not by going near the man so instead I seized the jug from the table and with the remnants of the afore night’s ale, I drenched the lot, by Jove, and then Metcalfe commenced scowling and dripping but I could deal with that all day.
“You do right, Strappy, don’t trust either of these two,” said Willie, like I needed telling, “remember what I told you the other day?” His hand slid to the hilt of his sword. “I fear that if I don’t see to it now, I’ll not get the chance.”
And I stepped back, aghast, as Willie had to readjust himself to free his sword and even then, due to the restriction of his position, he had to grip it by the blade in order to tug it from the scabbard, drawing blood from his palm.
Savage sat upright and glanced from me, to Metcalfe, to Willie. “Colonel, I would beg you not to do what I think you’re about to do, Colonel. Colonel, listen to me, do not do this, I will defend myself, as is my right.”
Willie had rolled over to the edge of the settee and now braced himself for the landing, he tipped over the edge and landed hard on his belly. After taking a second to compose himself, both hands tightened around the hilt, which he used to pull himself across the floor with the blade pointing toward the roof beams.
“Colonel? I would beg you not to do this.” Savage was still sitting, as it was about all he could do, but he had at the ready a small wooden stool.
There wasn’t far to go and when Willie was to within a blade’s reach, he pushed himself up onto his arse, found equilibrium and hacked down with a stroke meant to slice off Savage’s head.
Only, the traitor had been ready and the steel bit into the underside of the stool, enabling Savage to easily wrench the hilt from Willie’s mitt before pinning the colonel’s body down between the four wooden legs. “I warned you, Colonel, begged even, but you wouldn’t have it, would you? Now what choice do you leave me, lest I allow you to smother me in my sleep.” And at that, Savage’s clams were around Willie’s neck, squeezing and constricting the life from him, a great vein bulged in Savage’s neck while one similar in Willie’s forehead was liable to pop.
I wasn’t enjoying this one bit, as I’d taken Willie for a likeable chap, duty bound to a fault, fair and he’d defended me on several occasions, which he’d had no need to do. My situation would be all the more precarious without the man and so I had to do something - Yes, me, but what?
I stepped forward and raised my voice just enough for Savage to hear above the sounds of his own exertions. “I say?” When Savage failed to cease and think again about this ongoing, senseless and brutal murder, I took a second brave step forth, “I said, I say.”
Savage was above him now, his arms bearing down and trembling from the effort. Willie’s white skin was tinging purple, one eye had closed of its own accord while I was sure the other was trying desperately to find me, perhaps in silent appeal for help, even as it clouded over and his life began to ebb.
“I say, there, you’ll hurt the fellow … I say.”
The sword fell from Willie’s hand and even as I backed out from the room, Savage remained in situ, ensuring no flicker of life remained.
What had been meant as a single night in this strange little cottage in the forest turned into two as darkness enveloped us upon whence I found myself slumped in the corner of Baird’s room, falling in and out of sleep.
At one point I was roused by the branches thrashing at the chimney stack above and twice again by Baird muttering gibberish about his wife who he hoped would not be so quick to spend this fortune on knick-knacks, trinkets, charms and other such assorted baubles large and small, after all, he was about to die for that money so use it wisely. On another occasion, my slumber was disturbed by Willie’s voice, hoarse even from beyond the grave begging for help but all I could do was stand there helpless because the man who was assailing him was bigger, older and scarier than I. I just hoped I wouldn’t be having nightmares for years.
Of course, it had been left to me to remove the corpse, on account of being the only one remaining who could walk, but I was still irked at Savage for killing the man and damned if I would take him outside when it was dark - who knew what was lurking out there - and so I stuffed Willie in the corner, covered him with discarded newspaper and told the murderer that if he minded the stink then it served him right, he’d just have to make do till morning.
It was after that conversation when I’d finally managed to sob myself to sleep and now, once again, Baird startled me when he began coughing uncontrollably.
“Jack? Is that you? It is you, isn’t it? Sweet Jack,” his voice was a whisper, his skin so pallid and brittle, “I fear that time draws near.” He wheezed sudden and violently into a closed fist and when he removed it from his face, there was blood all over his lips. “I wish you well in your endeavours, Jack, saving the country, the Empire and whatnot … I know … I know you’ll do a stout job, as always. What else was there? Oh yes, the wife, Jack … I ask that you call in on Beatrice and tell her I loved her until the end.”
I held Baird’s hand as I perched on the bed’s edge. It was like one of those moments I assumed existed in those trashy novels, where the dying man knew his time was up and was able to deliver a well thought through speech in a timely and articulate manner to his best friend before passing peacefully over to the other side. This would be one such moment. I might have accidentally shot the man in the arse but this, I could give him, a peaceful death knowing his final requests were taken care of.
“Major, I promise, I will call in on Mary and give her my regards. I’ll tell her you died in combat, sword in hand, as is our way.” I thought I made a convincing job of it.
He nodded weakly, was silent for a while then fought back the impending sleep by forcing open his eyes. “Jack … now … now’s the…” he coughed and it sounded like his entire sinus was filling with thick brown catarrh that refused to dislodge, he began making urgent head gestures, almost like he was signalling toward my crotch, or something, but whatever he was trying to say, he was expending a great deal of the final remnants of his energy trying to utter it, “sword, you bastard!”
My eyes flicked up as I tried to think what he meant and then he kicked me. “Oh, yes, apologies, the sword,” I rolled my eyes but I don’t think he noticed. “Time to go to Valhalla, my friend.
I stood as one cannot so easily draw a sword when seated and his head turned to watch, eyes intent, as his opened hand hung off the side of the bed, fingers trembling in anticipation of receiving that which would deliver him. But when I gripped the hilt and attempted to release that magnificent sliver of steel, let loose it most certainly would not, stuck fast as it appeared to be. “One moment, Major.” I heaved, strained and groaned with all the strength I could summon but damned if the thing would unleash, and damned again if I could remember a time it ever had.
By now Baird was palpitating and his face began to take on a greenish tint in the candlelight. “Sw…sword…h…hilt…Now! Now! Damn you, Jack.”
“Hold your horses, Major,” the impatience of some people, I was trying my damnedest, “ah, one moment, I know…” there had been some useful implements in one of the inventory boxes and, at risk of alarming my friend, I dashed from the room to commence ransacking the trunks that were stacked against the wall. It was dark and nobody had seen fit to ignite a lantern but one can get a general feel for what might be of use and it was to that end that I grabbed something that ought be suitable before quickly returning to Baird, closing the door so he’d have some privacy and thrusting the implement into the dying man’s mitt.
He glanced down at it squinting, unsure, and so I held my hands strong around his and guided them towards his sternum before clasping it tight. His eyes bulged, I felt his fingers attempt to loosen but my grip was true.
“Ssshhhhhh, go now, join your ancestors and save a spot on the mead-benches for me, brother.” I held his eyes and there was a strange moment between us, almost like, in his final breaths, he finally understood the truth.
And as Baird passed from this world to the next, all I knew for sure was that you’ve not seen panic until you’ve clasped a wooden spoon into a dying Pagan’s clammy paw. I just hoped his ancestors would treat him as an equal when he arrived knocking at the gates.
For a while, I stood vigil over Major Alistair Baird, VC. It seemed only fitting, he’d been a friend and a good man to boot and it was hard not to respect his achievements. Eventually, I dozed off in the corner, only to be roused at daybreak by the din coming from the other room. It turned out to be Savage clattering together two steel pans.
“Quiet with that, at once.” I chucked a lime at him, which bounced off his conk. “What is it?”
The constant drifting in and out of consciousness had played the devil with his body clock, I also suspected the blood loss was making him confused. “I’m bloody famished, is what, where’s the rest of that deer? Bring it in.”
“I can’t do that, Mister Savage, I ate the last of that yesterday.”
“You did what?”
“You heard, you rogue, and it was delicious.” Giving him lip was easy now and even enjoyable knowing there was not a damned thing he could do about it. Still, I was sure to keep a distance. “I ate it all, well, all apart from the cuts I chucked out for the crows. Oh, I thought about saving some for you but, quite frankly, I’ve been exceptionally disappointed with your behaviour as late and so, until you learn that you can’t just go around murdering my friends, you’ll just have to do without.”
“Bah, the man left me little choice … dangerous soldier like that so close and with a grudge. My conscience is clear on that score.”
“That may well be the case, I’d just rather it was he with me now instead of you.” I sniffed at the air, which was fast becoming unbearable. “Where’s Metcalfe?”
His expression softened. “He passed, about an hour ago, so it’s just you, me and the old man now, you cretin.” He noticed me scanning the room for the Yank. “I stuck him in the corner with Willie and if you’d be so kind, perhaps you could drop them in that hole and cover them up.”
I shook my head. “I will not bury Colonel Willie beside that man Metcalfe, it’s his fault we’re in this mess.”
“It’s what?” He hissed, incredulous.
“You heard me, he should have kept mum about his grievances until after the mission at least. All this bother’s on him.”
“You…” he attempted to shuffle closer but after I moved away he gave up. “How dare you blame another man for your folly, you cretin.” His eyes closed and he swooned suddenly but managed to catch himself before tipping sideways. Savage was a mess, his naked legs were wrapped in several layers of filthy strips that criss-crossed flesh that’d lost all colour. His feet, in particular, were shrivelled and grey and I doubted he’d ever have use of those again. Oddly, his finger thin moustache was still splendid as ever, even if his hair was ruffled and in need of a good rinse. “I need sustenance, please, there’s several hare we caught in the pantry. You’d better be a good cook.”
I shrugged, “I have my own cooks, I wouldn’t even know how to boil an egg.”
He threw the pan at me, which narrowly missed my clock. “Then bloody learn, you cretin.”
There were four hares resting on the pantry table, though nobody had seen fit to gut and skin either of the carcasses. Several minutes I spent staring down at them, wondering what in the blazes I was meant to do before finally deciding that beggars could hardly afford to be choosers and Savage was far from a position of power right now, indeed, he was barely even conscious, so I chucked one as was on the coals and waited. Thirty minutes later I pulled it out by the ears, kicked Savage in the arse and presented his bounty on a platter.
“Breakfast time, sleepy head.” I took pleasure in that, it was just a pity I knew not how to play the funeral march.
He sniffed and baulked. “What’s that?”
“Your morning bounty, of course, bon appétite.”
He grimaced at the melted fur, eyeballs that’d frazzled to a cinder and the charred skin that was crisp to the touch but it was the smell that was fit to turn you inside out. It was doubtful the meat was cooked but I’d warned him I was no chef. “You think I’m eating this?”
I recalled the deer testicles I’d been force-fed in Ireland, if he was desperate then this was a banquet by comparison. “If you don’t, you’ll get it every meal till supper.” I dumped it in his lap and walked away.
“You forgot my fork,” he said, sarcastically, and threw the animal at my head as I walked away.
An hour past, which I spent gazing out the window in silence. There’d been no zombie sightings since the last lot, though I knew they were still out there, they had to be. Worse, the very fact so many had managed to find us this side of the Avon could only mean they’d forded the Severn and that even now, the fate of the fort at Kempsey was in question. Had they truly forded or had yet more been swept downriver before wandering inland? They were important considerations to mull if I were to make a decision one way or another and the fact I’d had little opportunity to consider the major issue was testament to the situation of the last two days and how little time these people had given me to think about my own position.
“Looking for someone?” Savage sounded weak. “There’s no rescue … in case you didn’t know … we were the rescue and you destroyed us.” He began laughing and although it almost made him spasm from pain he persisted anyway and it sounded evil. “You did this and now look at you. You’re stuck here with me, a man who’ll kill you first opportunity, like as not, and yet you’re too terrified to come near and kill me first, or else simply leave, aye, you’re too scared even to do that, to walk out of here. What if you encounter those creatures? You’d have to fight them and you’d much rather risk me than them, well I’ve got news for you, if they come, what makes you think that door’ll hold them? And when they get in, which they will, do you really believe you can hide behind me? Face it, Captain, you’re as dead as I am.”
I stomped out the room to the sound of laughter assaulting my ears and I could still hear the man even as I arrived in the pantry and closed the door on everything.
But he was right. If the dead came back, the door might be expected to hold out for a while but eventually, the thing would fall in under the weight and neither did I trust the shutters to withstand them. No, I was awaiting my death in this house just as I’d be in danger by venturing out there.
It was to that end I now deigned to explore the furthermost recesses of the house. There was another door at the back of the pantry, which I expected would lead down to a cellar. Sacks of kindling and buckets of coal were piled in front and I had to heave them away to gain access. Igniting a lantern, I forced open the door, which creaked of age but, I hoped, it would prove sturdy enough to withhold an assault, especially if I were to stack the coal and furniture from around the house on the inside, then it might be expected to hold indefinitely.
