Swanson looked at Liz. “Wonder how the old hubby is getting on?”

  Liz refused to acknowledge the question, instead, taking a packet of biscuits from Ember and handing a few to her daughter.

  Swanson looked away. “Yeah, well. Looks like we got a nice place here, even if it is all fake. Don’t seem that many of the undead around these parts either. Nice and remote. That’s what I always liked about the States. Lots of space. Maybe we could make it work here…”

  The idea of sharing the large building with the London gangster turned Liz’s stomach. She also knew he was hated by more than a few of the others. Including the woman in charge.

  Sam was the only one to answer. “If we got more weapons, I reckon we could make this place impenetrable!”

  Swanson patted the young man on the back. “That’s the spirit! Yeah, and if those soldiers turn up, we’ll take care of them too!”

  The young man smiled nervously, while Swanson moved to the corner where his wife had found a spot to bathe in the sun.

  They all heard the sound of boots on the internal wooden staircase, the door flying open once more.

  Lauren was out of breath. She looked across the group. “It’s Jenn. She’s hurt bad.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  TYRONE

  The tall lieutenant was crouched at the tree line, watching the skiff make its way under the power of its engine this time. Lauren was to his left, Anita to his right. All three volunteering to cover the five in the boat, as they made their way back as quickly as possible to the castle. The last he heard was his boss was barely breathing and had lost a lot of blood. Phrases kept repeating in his mind. She couldn’t die. She was tough. She would make it.

  But his anger was simmering. He should have pushed back harder when she said she wanted to go on this mission. She wasn’t needed. Others could have filled her role, but she wanted to see the local area for herself. Wanted to see what the lifeform had done to this country. If it was as bad as what had happened back home. The place that no longer existed.

  He got it. He understood, but she still shouldn’t have gone, and he should have insisted she stayed in the castle. Not a mistake he would make again. When he was given the role as he right-hand-man, he wondered how quickly he could move on to another position in command, but he quickly learned how valuable his time spent with the brigadier general would be.

  Her quick thinking was the reason a few hundred people survived and made it to the island, ending up in the caves, whereas many of the others in the armed forces made different decisions, which cost them. Listening to the politicians and so-called scientists. Jennifer Montford though, was wise enough to think differently and if this much smaller group were to survive, it would be because of her, he was sure of it, and his job was to keep her alive to do that.

  I have failed…

  Aaron jumped out of the boat to the grassy bank, before it hit up against it, and tied it to an iron rod. The American was next, and with Grace and Joe’s help they lifted Jenn out and onto the bank.

  The general’s appearance made Tyrone feel worse. Deepening his guilt. He and the other two ran down the slope, scanning the other trees and road for any sign of danger. None was forthcoming, and they got to the others quickly.

  “What happened?” he said to Aaron. “You were meant to keep her safe!”

  “Things got bad quick! I turned around and she was hanging off the edge of the truck!” Aaron looked at Aiden. “You must have seen?”

  Aiden shook his head. “I was fighting with one of the things. Then I turned around and she was pulled out of the truck. I had to fight to get her back in.”

  Anger spread across Grace’s face, as she tried to hold up the general with Joe’s help. “Maybe we have this discussion later!”

  Tyrone nodded, taking her place and with Joe the group of eight, made their way towards the park and the path through the trees at the top of it.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  JOE

  Joe sat on one of the uncovered sofas in the large hall. Not so far away, but partitioned by taller pieces of furniture, were Grace and Candace, working on the woman he had come to like and respect since leaving Scotland. The weight that she took from him was now firmly back on his shoulders. Seated nearby were Lauren, Anita, Tyrone, Aiden and Clara.

  No conversation had passed between them since the group arrived back and he knew why. Each person was contemplating what they would do if Jenn wasn’t leading the group.

  Candace came away from her work with dyed red hands and approached them. “We’ve repaired what damage we could with our meagre supplies. She’s in a coma and it’s up to the lifeform whether or not she lives.”

  Joe noticed Aiden’s eyes widen a little.

  “Lifeform?” The American replied.

  Clara, who was sitting the closest to him, nodded. “Yes, I was going to tell you earlier. The lifeform repairs tissue. It’s the reason for all of this. Why everything has happened. It reanimates the dead, but it also helps keep the living alive. Fingers crossed that it will bring her back from the brink.”

  Aiden began to speak again but Tyrone beat him to it.

  “This is on me,” said the young man.

  Joe shook his head without looking at him. “It could have happened to any of us…”

  “But it can’t happen to her! We need her to get through this. She has a knack for getting people out of bad situations. I’ve seen her do it more than once.” He looked away from the others. “It’s my responsibility to protect her so she can lead us out of…” He held his hands up. “This.”

  Anita looked at Joe. “You’re in command now. At least until she’s back on her feet.” She looked at Candace. “How long?”

  The older woman shook her head. “No way of knowing. With the extent of her injuries it could be at least a week, maybe multiple weeks.”

  Anita looked back at Joe. “So, Major. What’s the plan?”

  Even on the way back in the boat, he knew he was going to have to lead the others for a while. Luckily, he had been privy to the plans Jenn had made, for when they arrived in the country. He looked at the small group around him. “We stick to what she wanted. This place looks ideal to establish a small base of operations. Good line of sight. Hardly any of the undead and maybe some houses not so far from here that we can loot for supplies. We’ll need two groups of two. One for day, the other for night, to keep watch. It’ll be dark in a few hours, so no more excursions today. First light tomorrow, a scouting group will head out to find supplies. Beyond that we’ll take each day as it comes. Everyone onboard with that?”

  They all nodded in agreement and he looked at the large fireplace against the opposite wall. “Once the sun goes down, let’s get a fire going.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ADA

  Ada stood at the sink, transfixed by the bubbles of soap on her raw wrists. The rainbow colours swirled as she scrubbed her hands again, trying to get them clean. Trying to get rid of her husband’s blood.

  “You alright, there?” said Maggie behind her, who was chopping up some vegetables they had found in the modest sized kitchen.

  Ada turned around briefly smiling. “Yes, just don’t want to get through all of this and then die of e-coli.”

  Maggie scoffed. “Wouldn’t that be something!”

  Ada switched to washing some pans, trying to push the memories from her mind. She had successfully done that during her time at sea, but now she was back on land, now there was a chance of perhaps something resembling a life, what had transpired on that final night in the camp, kept regurgitating. As if it was unfinished business that needed to be addressed. Except it couldn’t be. Nothing would bring her husband back or any of the others she saw cut down by monster and human alike.

  A small window near the top of the wall, suggested the day was almost at an end and the kitchen was becoming gloomier. She began opening drawers. “Must be some candles in here, somewhere.”

  “Stan used to love my stews,” said Maggie, rinsing one of the pots then filling it with some water from the still functioning faucet.

  Rain, who was laying down beneath the table in the middle of the room, looked up at her.

  Ada didn’t want to engage with her about ‘Stan.’ Another husband that longer existed. She needed the past to remain where it was. “I think… I think we can really make a go of this place.” She glanced at Maggie. “Don’t you think?”

  Maggie placed the vegetables in the pan and turned on the stove, a blue flame quickly igniting. She produced a faltering smile, without looking at Ada. “Yes, maybe. Time will tell.” She turned around with a more sincere effort of emotion. “Let’s just concentrate on getting through the next few days.”

  Ada nodded, Maggie doing the same. “I’m going to check on the others. I’ll be back in a bit. Come on, Rain.” The slightly older woman left with the dog, leaving Ada alone. She returned to looking for candles, but the drawers contained everything but what she wanted. She looked at a door at the back of the kitchen, one she knew led to the basement, and an entrance she really did not want to open. Especially without any source of light.

  She looked back at the door Maggie left by then turned towards the other exit, the one that led beneath old stone walls, and let out a long breath. She was never one to be afraid of the dark, and despite the very real monsters that lurked in shadows she wasn’t going to start that phobia. She moved swiftly across the room, pulled the old latch up and pulled the door towards her, bringing with it a tinge of dust. Only darkness existed in the doorway. She fumbled for a switch, knowing that even if she found one there would be no electricity to power a light, but did so anyway. She found the small brass knob and wiggled it up and down to no effect, then shaking her head, looked behind her, to the way back to the stairs. “I should go and find a—”

  The cold hands landed on her shoulder, quickly moving to her neck before she had a chance to scream.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MAGGIE

  The evening air didn’t smell right to Maggie. Too sweet. Too dry. Not just a climate thing, she thought, but something else. Something you would only know if you had lived your life somewhere else, in a place far away, where the air was moist with a saltier odour. Perhaps she imagined the difference. Either way, she would soon forget the other place and it would only exist in dreams, just like Stan.

  “I could stay up here all night,” said Ember, looking up at the darkening sky. The baby was inside a cardboard box by her side, the dog to the side of that.

  “It’s warm enough,” said Maggie. “But…”

  Ember looked at her. “What?”

  “I know the American said he’s seen no dead animals… but… maybe he just missed them.”

  Ember frowned. “I know, you’re right… I’m not sure Sam would like me staying out here, anyway.”

  “How’s… things going with that?”

  Ember smiled. “You want me to start calling you mum?”

  Maggie scoffed. “Lord no. Maggie will always be fine. I just wondered what—”

  “I know what you’re asking. The honest answer is I don’t know. Kind of hard to know much of anything right now. The best I can give you is, I like he’s company.”

  Maggie laid a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “That’s good. Okay, I better get downstairs and check on dinner. I have a feeling Ada is not the best of cooks! I think I can smell it all the way up here!”

  She quickly made her way down three flights of stairs, moving into the hallway where she abruptly slowed… smoke was seeping from under the kitchen door. Rushing forward, she pushed it open, being engulfed by white smoke, her vision limited to a hazy impression of the room. Throwing her hands out in front of her and using her memory of the layout, she walked towards the stove, just about being able to see the pan, and more smoke rising from the blackened remains of the vegetables. Covering her mouth, she picked up a towel then held the handle and threw it in the sink, turning the tap on. A cloud of steam rose, restricting her vision even more.

  She turned around to the rest of the kitchen, waving her hands in front of her to try to see better. “Ada?” she shouted. “You in here?”

  Something clattered across the room. A sound she tentatively walked forward, having a vague recollection of there being another door there, which she had been told led to a basement. The sound happened again, but this time she saw the source. The door was partially open, a breeze causing it to knock against its frame.

  She pulled it open slowly, trying to make sense of what was beyond, but between the failing light in the kitchen and the smoke it wasn’t possible to see any detail of what lay ahead, down the uneven stone steps.

  “Ada? You down there?”

  Another sound made itself known. This one different, scratching, as if something heavy was being dragged over a dry floor. She took another step then stopped. A stench was rising up from the void. Maybe it was the burned vegetables she was still smelling from behind her, or maybe the basement was where they had kept their stock of food and other things. And some were rotting…

  “Ada?” she said, slightly louder than previously.

  Something fell. There was a metallic sound and then a crumpling noise. Someone was down there. All the rooms had been checked by Aaron and the others when they got to the place, and the external doors were locked and sealed. There was no way the undead could gain entry. So that meant it must be one of the group that was downstairs… or a rat? She hated the things, but either way she needed to know. What if someone like Owen or Tia had fallen and gotten hurt?

  It was almost completely black just a few feet from her face, and she wouldn’t make the same mistake. She needed light. Fearing someone might be in trouble below, she grabbed the saucepan from the sink, wrapped some hand towels around it and then ignited them from the still burning flame of the stove, then headed into the darkness.

  “Who’s down here?” she enquired as she descended the fifteen steps.

  Her torch illuminated brickwork and then at the bottom, a wall, where she turned to face rows of wooden shelves that were taller than her. Their contents of books, pots, tools and small boxes were almost completely covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.

  She pushed the flames forward, wanting the light to tell her how big the damp smelling space was, but the shadows appeared to not want to retreat and she took another step into the room.

  Something clattered to her right, making her whip around in that direction which revealed the basement moved off in another direction and was bigger than she first thought. “Hello? Is there anyone back there?” Something was moving in the darkness ahead of her. “Who’s that? Are you hurt?”

  She could see that it was not an it but a who. A figure was rising up and with it came the sound of cracking. As if old pieces of wood were splintering. She took a step forward at the same time as did the thing in front of her, her fire revealing the dusty torn clothes from another era and the skeletal remains held within which somehow were standing, somehow looking at her with bulbous white eyes and strands of muscle across a partially formed face. For a moment the scene froze her in place until the scream in her chest erupted but was abruptly cut short by the nails digging into her throat. She spun around, flashing the burning torch across the ruined features of a middle-aged woman, one that she recognised. The pan met the undead form of Ada Hughes in the side of its head with a thump, the flame momentarily burning the exposed flesh until the wetness extinguished it, plunging the whole room into darkness.

  As two sets of hands pulled at Maggie’s face and arms, dragging her down to the floor, she forced words from her dry throat into the putrid air of the basement, screaming for help.

  They were on her now, tearing and biting, but they were not alone. Something else was in the room, growling, snarling…

  Maggie felt the weight lift and the fresher air take its place. Just before the shadows descended upon her mind, she saw her son’s face lit by the dying embers of her torch.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SAM

  Samuel Carrington was sitting on a chair near his mother’s makeshift bed, in the large hall. An enthusiastic fire was burning in the large fireplace, making the room warm. Perhaps too warm. He wondered if his mother felt it too, as she seemed to be sweating in her unconscious state. Grace assured him she would wake up soon as her injuries were not as extensive as the woman next to her. The General was still in a coma like state, his mother was merely sleeping. The lifeform doing its thing, pulling her tissue back together. Making her whole again.

  Footsteps came from various doors at the same time. A meeting had been called, and he was going to be part of it.

  He got up, telling Rain to stay near his mum, and left the clump of furniture that created a small medical ward, and moved to the open area in front of the fire, where some were already sitting around the magisterial dining table.

  He noticed the dusty, ragged clothes on top of it.

  Joe gestured to them. “They look pretty old. Maybe 1920s. It looked as it it had broken through a wall…”

  “Poor fucker was bricked up in there,” said Swanson. “Real murder mystery stuff.”

  Sam looked at the Londoner. “You think this is a joke? Ada died, my mum could’ve too!”

  Swanson frowned. “Now, now. Calm your horses, it ain’t like that, son.”

  “I’m not your son.”

  A more resolute expression came over Swanson.