“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Richard said, “but we both know that’s exactly what we have to do. It’s what we agreed last night. It’s what we all agreed.”
“I know, but—”
“But nothing. We agreed.”
Harry knew he was right. “Do me a favor before we ship out, though,” he said hopefully.
“What?”
“One last flyover. Just a quick look. It’s the least we owe Emma.”
Richard thought carefully before answering.
“Okay. It’ll be dawn in a few more hours. We’ll wait until the light breaks.”
48
Over the months the castle had been completely encircled with dead flesh. The thought of having to hike back across it had filled both Michael and Harte with dread, but the reality had proved to be less of an ordeal than they’d expected, certainly no worse than what they’d just been through underneath the castle. That had actually proved to be good preparation for trudging through the ankle-deep, frost-encrusted, once-human slime outside. It was somehow easier the second time around.
They felt strangely invisible—a good thing if Jas did decide to come looking for them. In the low light of early morning, the living were hard to distinguish from the decayed remains they were walking through. And they were all still soaked with decay from their castle escape too. All they needed to do, should Jas or any of his cronies appear, was stand still and wait until they disappeared again.
Michael looked back over his shoulder at the castle they’d somehow managed to escape from, then at the ragtag group of people who were following him, picking their way through the carnage. He could tell a lot about each of them by the way they were dealing with what they were walking through tonight. Harte and Kieran ere stomping through the slime, exhausted and just desperate to get across to the other side in the shortest time possible. Howard was constantly grumbling. Seriously unfit, he spent more time looking for a dog he’d told Michael he’d lost than he did trying to get away from the remains of the dead. He placed the two women at opposite extremes. Caron was infuriating; the slowest of all, she was constantly moaning about the dirt under her nails and asking how long they had left to go, like an irritating kid stuck in the back seat of the family car. Lorna, on the other hand, was strong and unflappable and kept Caron in check. She was clearly tough, so much so that he wouldn’t have fancied his chances against her in a fistfight.
Michael caught her eye, then looked away. He turned back when he realized she’d stopped. Something had caught her attention. Her head was raised and she remained perfectly still, like an animal sniffing the air for a scent.
“Problem?” he asked.
“Don’t think so.”
“What, then?”
“See that house over there?”
Michael squinted into the dark. It took him a few seconds to spot the building she was referring to. In the predawn gloom, it was just another dark shape among many. He was soon able to make out its walls and roof. Harte was too.
“I see it,” he said. “What’s the problem?”
“Oh, there’s no problem,” she casually replied. “There’s a light on in one of the windows, that’s all.”
* * *
Suddenly revitalized, the group moved at speed toward the house in the distance. The nearer they got, the clearer the light in the downstairs window became.
Caron was still complaining as they approached it.
“These bloody bodies,” she said. “Are we ever going to get away from them? You said we only had to walk a mile or so and we’d be through them.”
Michael stopped and looked down at his feet, thinking about what she’d just said. “We are through them.”
“But how can we be? There are still loads of them around—look.”
She was right, there was still an unexpectedly high number of corpses nearby. More to the point, most of them were on their feet, and some were still moving—an indication that, perhaps, these creatures had never made it as far as the crowd around the castle. The ground they were now walking over was clear, and they’d long since made it through most of the sea of decay which had surrounded the castle.
“This is something else, isn’t it?” Lorna said, clearly coming to the same conclusion as Michael. “These bodies are here because of whatever’s in that house.”
She star running toward the building. Harte called for her to be careful, but she wasn’t listening. The front lawn was overgrown, and the windows were covered in thick curtains of cobwebs and dust. Before she’d made it even halfway down the garden path, the front door opened inwards.
“Hello, you,” said Hollis.
49
It hadn’t taken long for the Duchess’ prospective passengers to empty the supplies from the back of the truck and get ready to leave. They were loading the last few scraps and searching around the jetty for extra lifejackets when a noise distracted them. It was another truck approaching.
“Michael and the others?” Harry wondered.
“Must be,” Richard said.
“I’m not so sure,” Zoe said. They both looked at her and she explained. “I assume he knows his way around here?”
“Yes, why…?”
“Because whoever that is,” she continued, “they don’t have a fucking clue. Listen. They’re driving up and down the main roads, probably trying to find this place.”
“Shit,” Harry cursed. He knew she was probably right. “We need to get going.”
“You get the boat moving, I’ll get back to the helicopter,” Richard said. “I’ll take a couple with me, just in case.”
With that he turned and started to run. Harry watched him go, people suddenly crisscrossing around him, being marshaled by Zoe.
“One last flyover first,” he shouted, “remember?”
Richard stopped. “There’s no point while it’s still dark.”
Harry knew he was right. There was no chance of seeing anything yet. “But you will come back.”
“Once I’ve got you lot safely on your way.”
With that Richard ran on, closely followed by two others.
Zoe and Charlie Moorehouse remained on the jetty as the others boarded the Duchess. They were both armed with batons, although neither knew if they’d be able to fight. Harry wished he had his sword. Bloody hell, he couldn’t even remember where he’d left it. He was about to do a final head count and check everyone was accounted for when a van sped down the sloping road which led into the marina. It skidded to a halt just short of the Duchess.
“Let’s go,” Harry said, pushing Moorehouse onto the boat. “Get out of here before they start shooting at us.”
“Wait!” awoman shouted from over by the truck. Zoe took a few steps forward. It wasn’t Jas. It was Melanie, Bayliss, and Paul Field.
“Let us on, Zoe,” she said. “Please.”
“Where’s Jas?”
“He’s coming. He’s probably not far behind us. Please!”
Field and Bayliss approached, their arms loaded with more stuff from the back of their truck.
“There’s a few more boxes in there,” Bayliss said. “We should take as much as we can.”
Harry looked up. He could hear another engine approaching now. Was this another trick? An attempt to delay them so Jas could get his precious supplies back?
“Fuck the food,” he said. “We’ve got enough.”
“Please let us on,” Melanie said, tears streaking her face.
“Don’t trust them,” Zoe said. “They’re with Jas.”
“Not anymore,” she sobbed. “We just want to get away from here, same as you do. Please, Zoe…”