The Givers of Life (Book 1): The Risen Dead Read online

  "You're thinking of vampires. No, the sun doesn't bother me."

  John hesitated a moment, thinking over his next question before deciding, as silly as it sounded, that it had to be asked.

  "Are vampires real too?"

  "Not that I know of."

  "But zombies are."

  "I don't like that word."

  "I have to call you something."

  "Graham would be nice."

  John shrugged and turned to look at the increasingly distant rise of Thurstaston Hill behind them.

  "I lost two friends up there, murdered by others like you. What should I call the others?" John fought to control the anger he felt at the memory of Julie and Steven, half-eaten, rotting in the blackened gorse.

  Graham, for the first time feeling discomfort at the knowledge that the friends this man spoke of were his victims, not others, decided there were some emotions he wished would not return. Guilt and remorse among them.

  "Reborn. Revived without memory by The Givers Of Life."

  "Except you." John turned to the reborn creature walking alongside him. "You have memories."

  "Some. Not many. But more return all the time."

  "What makes you different?"

  Graham said nothing. It was something he had begun to wonder himself. Was he really unique, or were there others like him out there, struggling with vague memories and the mixed blessing of returning feelings and emotions?

  "I don't know."

  They walked a little further in silence until John decided he had to ask the question that had been nagging him since his first battle with the creatures.

  "Am I going to turn into a zom... a reborn thing? You know, because I've been scratched?"

  "You aren’t dead, so how can you be reborn? And as far as I know, rebirth is not a disease that can be transferred to others. We scratch you, you live. We kill you, you stay dead."

  Further conversation was halted by a sudden braying, animal-like chorus of sounds some distance ahead.

  "Are we too late?" said John, worried that the calls meant the creatures had reached Annie and the others.

  "They have the scent but they're not yet there. The call would be different if they were attacking, or feeding."

  "Can you run?"

  Graham felt the continued ache of misuse in the wasted muscles of his legs, but also the increased strength flowing through him that The Givers Of Life had bestowed on them all.

  "Yes."

  They ran.

  #

  Annie and Geoff heard the howling, baying calls as they turned to go back indoors.

  "What's that?" said Annie, scared by the inhuman, yet not quite animal, noise.

  "I really don't know," said Geoff, equally unnerved. "But I think we should get indoors, quickly. Whatever it is doesn't sound friendly."

  They hurried down the path, Geoff hesitating by the back door.

  "This isn't going to keep anything out. You and Mrs Jenna better move in with me. At least I can lock all the doors."

  Annie nodded, quietly relieved at the suggestion. Mrs Jenna's house was no longer secure, her own held too many memories, and John's house was empty. Where was John? What was taking him so long? They needed him.

  #

  John grimaced at the stitch in his side, and a growing pain in his right knee. He was exhausted after a night of dodging and fighting the creatures but, even so, he was angry that he had let his training and exercise regime slip so badly. Being tired he could accept, but to suffer a stitch and a possible knee injury simply through running was his own fault. He had lost focus, and now it could cost Annie her life!

  Graham, by contrast, found the stiffness in his legs loosening as they ran, and the increased strength given him upon rebirth urging him to run faster. He was not sure he fully understood why, but it was of vital importance to him to save the girl. Yes, there were his memories, the nameless daughter who had some superficial similarities with the girl, but he wasn't sure that truly explained the depth of his need to see the girl safe. Trying to force more from his fragmented memories and emotions did nothing but stab sharp pains through his head. They would return in their own time, or not at all. Perhaps, one day, he would understand. For now, he had to try and save the girl. If others were saved in the process, that was of little interest to him. Only the girl.

  "I'm going to need weapons," gasped John. "Most of them are still in my house."

  They reached the top of a small rise in the land, John slowing, pushing his knees with his hands as he struggled up the slope. They stopped, staring.

  Less than a quarter of a mile away they could see the small group of mostly empty houses that had once been a thriving estate, and on one street the row of homes including John's own. Down there was Annie, Mrs Jenna and Geoff Hobsen. The sight should have pushed fresh energy into his tired limbs, but he felt nothing but exhaustion and despondency. For between himself and those houses, he could see the reborn army marching, inexorably, towards its prey. A mass of writhing, stumbling, seething death already at the borders of the last fields before the houses, almost at the dried brook that he and Annie had stood before.

  There seemed no way he and his strange companion could reach them in time.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Home Invasion

  Annie and Geoff carried Mrs Jenna between them. She was barely able to shuffle her feet, let alone take her own body weight. They had reached the door of Geoff's house when they heard, again, louder, the terrible moaning, screeching, baying calls.

  "It's getting closer, whatever it is," said Annie, as they squeezed through the door. She cast nervous glances back as they moved, looking for something that could account for the awful sounds, freezing as she saw the movement beyond the brook. "Oh my God!"

  "What is it?" Geoff struggled to look out of the door, but could not squeeze past Mrs Jenna.

  "People, I think, but they don't look..." She struggled for the right words and gave up. "...quite right."

  The distant figures walked, shuffled, stumbled and crawled towards the dried brook. They reminded her of the thing from the other night.

  "We need to get inside, quick, and lock everything up," she said, frightened.

  They dragged Mrs Jenna through to the living room and sat her in one of the two armchairs there. Geoff then hurried back to the front door and looked outside.

  "Fuck!"

  Annie was momentarily startled. She had never heard him swear before.

  "I'll check the windows," she said, running up the stairs.

  "Right." Geoff shook himself out of the shock of seeing the army of... something, closing in on them. "I'll lock this and then check the back door."

  He slammed the door shut, turned the key and slid over the top and bottom bolts. It seemed so inadequate. The bolts were small brass ones. The lock was just a standard lock. He doubted it would take much effort to break through.

  Moving quickly through the hall and kitchen, he checked the back door. Locked. Only one bolt on the top, but it was a larger, more sturdy one than the others.

  Annie came back downstairs, pausing by the front door.

  "Is there anything more we can barricade this with? Anything heavy?"

  Geoff shook his head slowly, thinking.

  "There's no way we'd get the sofa out through the living room door, and the only other heavy furniture I have is the wardrobe in the upstairs bedroom. I doubt we could get that out either."

  "We need something. That door will never hold on its own."

  Annie looked desperately around, but the hall was bare except for a few pictures on the wall and a radiator. Her eyes finally settled on the kitchen, where Geoff still stood by the back door.

  "Table and chairs," she said. "They may not be that heavy, but they'll be an inconvenience if nothing else."

  Geoff immediately grabbed one of the chairs, carried it out through the hall and placed it against the door. Annie ran with him back to the kitchen and they grabbed another chair
each. Geoff grabbed the last chair and pushed it into position. The chairs were piled one on top of the other, legs pointing upwards, outward, to make it as hard and, Annie hoped, as painful as possible for anyone trying to get in.

  "Now the table," she said, turning to Geoff.

  "The legs will have to come off. I'll get a screwdriver."

  As Geoff rushed back into the kitchen, Annie checked on Mrs Jenna in the front room. The old lady was unmoving, her breathing rapid and a little unsteady. Annie worried that the move might have made her condition worse. She wished the old lady would wake up.

  Outside, the noise of the advancing creatures was growing louder. She looked through the window. Most of them were over the brook now, almost at the gardens. It would not take them long to reach the houses. Had they seen them enter this house? Would they come straight here, or try the other, empty houses first?

  She was terrified watching the advance. Her mouth felt dry and she could feel a tremble working its way from her stomach through her whole body.

  "Shit!"

  She heard Geoff cursing in the kitchen.

  "What's wrong?" she called.

  "Can't find a bloody screwdriver! I was sure I had one in these kitchen drawers somewhere."

  Annie hurried through to the kitchen where Geoff was frantically scrabbling through a drawer alongside the cooker. She looked around, saw the open drawers he had already checked.

  "Have you looked under the sink?"

  Geoff shook his head. "No, not yet. I was sure it was in these drawers!"

  Annie opened the cupboard door beneath the sink and, wincing slightly at the old, rusting pipes, began to search through the cans of polish, cleaner, insect spray and ant powder. To one side was a cardboard box holding a variety of small metallic objects, old radiator keys, bits of small pipe and, at the very bottom, a screwdriver.

  "Got one," she said.

  Geoff took it from her with a quick 'thanks' and set to work on the table.

  The legs came off quickly, and together they carried the heavy table-top through to the front door. They leaned it against the chairs at such an angle it would not easily be toppled.

  "That's it," said Geoff. "It's not much, but it's all we can do."

  "They're almost at the houses," said Annie. "We might be lucky. Maybe they'll just go past us."

  A sudden explosion of breaking glass and splintering wood from outside sent the two of them hurrying through to the front room, peering carefully out of the window.

  The creatures had reached the houses just along from Mrs Jenna's. They were smashing the windows, battering down the doors with frightening ease.

  For the first time Annie and Geoff saw the creatures up close.

  "Oh my God," said Annie, the trembling of fear she had felt earlier becoming a shake she found hard to control. "What are they?"

  She watched with disgust, feeling the vomit rise in her throat, as, not far from them, a torso wriggled across the ground, rotted tendrils that had once been legs dragged behind, short, decomposed arms dribbling unidentifiable strands and lumps of meat and gristle, the face with a hole where its nose should be, one eye glaring ahead, the other trailing on its cheek. The mouth was open, snarling, blackened teeth bared.

  Annie turned away just as her stomach convulsed and she vomited onto the living room carpet.

  Geoff, not feeling too well himself, placed a comforting hand on her back.

  "Don't worry about it. I almost did the same myself."

  "What are those things?" gasped Annie, as she wiped her mouth and nose, her eyes watering madly.

  "I don't know." Geoff shook his head. "But let's get away from the window before we're seen."

  "Do we have any weapons?"

  "About the best I can do is a few kitchen knives."

  "Better than nothing," said Annie, heading towards the kitchen.

  There was a sudden bang on the front door.

  Annie froze, staring towards the tangle of chairs and kitchen table that had rattled with the bang.

  Another, then another. The bolt at the top gave way, clattering down to the floor through the chairs. The wood in the centre of the door cracked.

  Geoff ran out of the living room. A window at the back of the house shattered.

  "None of this will hold them for long," he shouted over the now incessant banging on the door. Each blow dislodged another shard of wood around the crack. The lock rattled loose, ready to give way. "We need to get upstairs!"

  "Mrs Jenna?" said Annie. "We can't leave her here, but we haven't got time to carry her."

  Geoff looked back to where Mrs Jenna still sat, unconscious and unaware of the danger around her.

  Another window smashed. There was hammering on the back door. The moans and cries and howls were all around them, invading the house, pounding inside their heads. Annie's legs trembled, and she worried whether she would be able to move at all, let alone help get Mrs Jenna up the narrow staircase. Geoff, too, was shaking, licking his dry lips.

  Together they stood, almost paralysed by indecision, as the creatures battered and smashed their way into the house.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Trapped

  John and Graham approached the houses from the back, having lost agonising minutes circling around, climbing a fence, and cutting through the narrow alleyways that ran between the streets. Graham had caught himself on the fence, bloody chunks of flesh torn from his arm and leg and left hanging on the wire like raw shish kebab. He didn't even notice.

  "They will have found your weapons," he said, as the two hurried along as best they could.

  "I hope not. They were locked away, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed."

  They slowed as they approached John's house, cautiously stepping through the broken back door. John tried to ignore the wreckage of his personal things. He needed to concentrate, not get angry.

  He heard shuffling in the hallway, movement the other side of the broken kitchen door, hanging dangerously from only one bent hinge. Turning towards Graham, he saw that he had heard it too. John gripped his combat knife tighter, tried to control his breathing. There was no way of knowing how many were there. Could be one, could be one hundred. Only one way to find out.

  They pulled the kitchen door open, finally snapping it away from its remaining hinge. Rushing into the narrow hallway, the door clattering to the floor behind them, they were faced by two of the reborn.

  Graham slammed into one, wrestling it to the floor, pounding its skull with repeated blows.

  The other lunged at John, knocking him, stumbling, backwards. He barely kept his feet.

  He struggled against the decaying fists holding his arms. He bent his head back away from the half decomposed face, the rotten, but strangely sharp looking, teeth. The strength of the reborn made movement difficult. If he could just break the grip on his right arm!

  The creature pushed forward once more. The sudden surge of strength took John by surprise. He felt teeth rip into the soft flesh of his cheek. It tugged. It tore. Agony shot through him, white hot, as the reborn chewed. But even through the pain, John struggled, twisted, and his right arm finally came free.

  He drove the knife up and round, burying it to the hilt in the creature's skull. The decaying head knocked sideways, hitting the wall. The hand gripping John's arm loosened. The thing folded to the ground, leaving John shocked and bleeding from the rip in his left cheek.

  Graham, standing over the still body of the other creature, looked back with what John almost believed was concern in his eyes.

  "I'm fine," said John, trying to slow the bleeding with trembling fingers. "There's bandages and shit upstairs. Let's get the weapons."

  #

  Annie and Geoff struggled to drag Mrs Jenna up the narrow staircase. The old woman began to groan, her eyes fluttering open, then closing again. Saliva dribbled from the corner of her mouth.

  "Mrs Jenna," shouted Annie. Below her, the creatures smashed their way through the front door. Only the
kitchen table and chairs stood in their way. "If you can help us at all, you have to do it now! Can you push with your legs?"

  The old woman's legs moved feebly, feet sliding on the stair carpet, unable to find purchase.

  "That's good," said Geoff, squeezed in alongside Annie, pulling at the old woman with all his strength. "Keep trying."

  The creatures were almost through. In moments they would be at the foot of the stairs.

  "We can't do it," said Geoff, his voice subdued, but trembling with fear. "We'll never make it if we keep trying to drag her with us."

  Annie said nothing, sickened at the knowledge that, somewhere deep inside, she had been thinking the same thing.

  "But we can't just leave her," she hissed, scared more than angry. "It would be murder."

  "And it's suicide if we don't."

  Mrs Jenna, her eyes finally open, staring at the advancing creatures, moved her lips, struggling to form words.

  "What?" Annie leaned closer, trying to hear above the crashing and splintering of wood, the sharp crashing of glass. "Mrs Jenna, I can't understand you."

  With a gasping effort that left the old woman drained and limp, she forced the words out, and Annie recoiled as though she had been slapped.

  "Leave me!"

  Annie couldn't stop the tears as she bent and kissed the old lady's head.

  "Thank you. For everything."

  Still sobbing, she turned and scrambled up the remaining stairs. Only Geoff looked back, once, to see the ravenous creatures drag Mrs Jenna down into the hallway, tearing at her, ripping with hands and teeth. Growls of satisfaction rumbled through the hallway, the wet chomping of raw meat. Mrs Jenna made no sound as she died under the vicious, slavering mob, but her eyelids flickered once, twice, and she seemed to look up the stairs with something like peace in those blue eyes.

  Geoff pushed Annie into one of the bedrooms, slamming the door behind him and struggling to drag a wardrobe over to block it. Annie quickly joined him, and together they got the heavy Edwardian furniture in place.