Part 3 (1/2)

As they entered the refectory, the other members of the convent were seated at the long wooden table, except Cam and Michael who were still on watch duty. Liz and Imran went to two of the empty wooden chairs and sat down together. Nicky pa.s.sed Liz the plate of the dense grainy bread. It wasn't very nice but once it was soaked in the soup it added needed bulk to their meals. Duncan had used his engineering knowledge to rig up a milling device down by the stream but there were still a few quirks that needed ironing out before they would get a fine flour from their grain. Nadine had also read about cultivating natural yeast spores that were permanently in the air. If she could get it to bloom in the culture, then at least they could have some bread that was a bit doughier.

Next to Nicky sat Justin, already spooning mouthfuls from the bowl that Sister Margaret had placed in front of him. In between mouthfuls of the thick soup, Justin was having an animated talk with Richard, Nicky's' husband, who was sitting on his other side. Rich was being sprayed with bits of soup, as the young boy got over excited about some detail of the tale he was telling. While Justin was otherwise engaged Nicky lent forward towards Liz.

*I hear that the new arrival had a run in with some raiders,' she whispered, not wanting Justin to hear *should we be worried?'

*Charlie, myself and Imran are going to see some the outposts tomorrow, we'll see if they've seen anything,' Liz replied, *but to be on the safe side just keep an eye on where Justin is over the next few days... just in case.'

There was no point in worrying people until they knew what, if anything, they were dealing with. Nodding, Nicky's' arm subconsciously went around Justin's' shoulder, protectively. She glanced across the table to Barry, Rich's brother, remembering another child. A child she failed in her duty as a mother to protect.

When the first cases of the dead attacking the living were being reported on the news, Nicky had been waiting at the arrivals gate for Rich. Rich had been in Saudi on a building contract for the last three months and she was impatient for him to walk through customs. When he finally came with his suitcases in tow two hours later, she had run into his arms in true Hollywood romance style. They had decided to have a bite to eat before leaving the airport and as they sat eating their sandwiches Nicky glanced over at a woman staring horrified at the monitor behind her. Turning round, her jaw dropped. Scenes of blood and carnage in London were being shown on the BBC. Frightened looking news reporters, telling of riots throughout London, Paris, Milan, all the major capitals of Europe. Riots, that seemed to be made up of dead people. Standing up slowly Nicky grabbed Rich. Leaving the luggage behind and running for their car, they both had one word screaming in their minds *Sam'. Nicky had left their nine year old son with Barry, her brother-in-law. She trusted Barry completely. He was a policeman and Sam loved spending time with his uncle. As the car joined the motorway her mobile rang, it was Barry. Just seeing the number on the screen her stomach dropped. Answering the call, Barry told her that Sam had been attacked by a crazy girl in the street. It wasn't too bad though as she had only bitten his hand, which Barry had carefully disinfected. Barry had locked all the doors and windows and was now watching Transformers with Sam in the living room. Of course at that time, they didn't know what was to come an hour or so later. By the time Nicky and Rich were only half an hour away from home the news on the radio had gone from horrific, to the stuff of nightmares. But it was when they mentioned the bites that Nicky realised her baby would die. She frantically dialled Barry's phone number again and again, desperate to get through but only getting the service unavailable message. As their car pulled up to Barry's house, she was out of the car and running to the front door before the car had even stopped. Opening the door Richard and Nicky ran through the house, calling his name over and over, desperate to find their son. Upstairs in the back bedroom they found Barry, tears running down his face as he held the limp body of Sam in his arms. A b.l.o.o.d.y towel lay over Sam's head. Reaching to remove it, Barry caught her hand, stopping her. She did not need to see what was beneath to know her baby was gone. She did not remember much of the next few weeks. Running and hiding, sometimes fighting, it didn't matter anymore to her. Weeks, turned in to months and Rich and Barry stayed with her, keeping her safe, keeping her alive. She carried with her a painful all-consuming guilt. Guilt for not being there to protect Sam and guilt for hating Barry, though rationally she knew he had had no choice in what he had done. Over the next few years they had travelled the south coast, avoiding the towns, moving from one settlement to the next. It didn't matter to her. Faces, names, places, all were meaningless now. They had joined a small caravan of wagons and then one day Rich had brought to her the frail weeping Justin. It was if she had been given a chance to make amends. They had sat in the wagon holding each other weeping. Her own baby was gone and this child's mother was also gone. They needed each other and she would build for them both a new life on that need.

*So don't say anything in front of Anne, please. I don't want her to worry while I'm away' Liz asked Nicky.

Liz knew she could rely on Alice to look after Anne while she was gone. If the worst happened and Liz never came back, they had discussed what would happen. Alice had agreed to take care of Anne permanently. In a world where people could be there one day and not the next, things like this often came up if someone you loved was dependent on you. Liz looked over at Alice who was sitting between Charlie and Duncan. She knew if the worst ever happened, Anne would be safe in their care.

Duncan had been a G.o.d send to the members of the Convent community. He had designed and made the pump to draw water from the stream. He had built the mill, so they could now have bread, of a sort, and he had worked out the pullies on the gate system to keep them all safe. When the Dead had swept across the globe, Duncan had been an engineer on an oil drilling platform in the North Sea. Sat in the television room with the other riggers, he had watched the world fall apart, one horrific report at a time. Then, when the satellites stopped transmitting they could only a.s.sume the mainland was now lost to them. After only six months their supplies began to run out and they had been forced to survive on just fish and rain water. But then s.h.i.+ps had started stopping at the rig, seeing it as a manmade island, an oasis in a world of walking dead. Rest and repairs had been bartered for supplies from these ocean going refugees. This had worked well for four years, until a cruiser out of control and full of the Dead had rammed into one of the supports. Escaping in a tug boat as the rig collapsed into the sea, he had become just another person looking for a safe haven in this new world. They had spent the next year travelling around the coast, making brief scavenging missions inland for fuel and any food they could find. But when they could no longer find the diesel they needed for the tug, he knew it was time to find a new way to live in this strange world. So, travelling from one community to the next, he earned safe pa.s.sage through the Dead by designing and helping build the things that made life easier for those fighting to survive. When he joined the Convent community he decided life with no real ties to the living was hardly living at all, so he decided to stay.

As Liz looked around at the other survivors around the table, she realised this small group of individuals, drawn together in their fight to survive, had become a family. Each finding something they had lost, in the comfort of the others in the Convent. She looked down at their newest addition, William Parker. She wondered if he would stay with them or continue looking for his lost nephew. She felt a little sorry for him, as he was bombarded with question after question about the outside world. Very few of the refugees had left the safe confines of the Convent since they arrived a year ago. Most went little further than the fields that surrounded them and Liz did not blame them.

Down the table Damian had his arm around Sally. He was whispering amorous promises in her ear, making her giggle like a 47 year old school girl. Liz didn't know if they actually had feelings for each other or they were just clinging to this modic.u.m of comfort they had found for themselves. It was surprising what people could convince themselves of once everything else had fallen apart. Liz was sure Sally wouldn't have looked twice at Damian if the Dead hadn't come. Sally must have been an attractive woman before living off sc.r.a.ps and the daily terror aged her. At times you could still see the attractive woman she had once been, hidden behind the thin sallow face, dry lank hair and the just the wrong side of thin, frame. Liz thought Sally must have been a woman who had been used to using her looks to get what she wanted. Sally had often spoken of the rich lifestyle she had lived, the three ex-husbands and the fourth that had died during an attack of the Dead. So it was hardly surprising that she had fallen back on what she knew best, charming a man to get the protection she needed. Though, Liz thought she may have backed the wrong horse picking Damian. No, if she had wanted security she really should have made a play for the unattached fighters of the group. Charlie, Cam, Michael, Mohammad or even Barry with his policeman training would have been better than Damian. Although Damian could hold his own against the Dead, Liz doubted he would really risk his own life to save her. He had survived this long by having no ties and only looking out for number one. Most had had to find that balance between self-preservation and looking out for the less able they loved. Too far either way and you either became too callous or just plain suicidal. Though, Liz knew which she would rather be labelled as. She would die for Anne, as would Charlie. Just as Rich and Nicky would fight to save Justin. She even believed poor Lars would sacrifice himself to save the emotionally damaged Penny. But when it came to the crunch, Sally had better not expect Damian to come charging into the Dead to save her.

Just then Penny danced barefoot into the refectory humming a nameless tune. As always there was a touch of wildness in her eyes. She existed in a world of her own making, shutting out the horrors that had surrounded her. Occasionally though, for unknown reasons, this block would slip and she would briefly get a glimpse of her nightmarish memories. Penny's unpredictable nature made some people feel uncomfortable. It had even been discussed by a few whether Penny was a danger to the other members of the Convent. What if she opened the gates while they slept? They could be literally eaten in their beds. But Sister Josephine had stepped in angrily, saying all were welcome at Lanherne Convent and who were they to say who could stay. To calm people's fears, Lars had promised to lock Penny in her room each night. Hers was now the only Nuns cell with a bolt on the outside, keeping possible trouble in, rather than out.

*Come sit by me and Anne,' Lars said to Penny trying to catch her attention, *Sister Margaret and Sister Rebecca have made some lovely soup for us Penny.'

Sister Rebecca got up to guide Penny over to where Lars was sitting.

*Come along dear, we don't want it to get cold now do we?' Sister Rebecca said, but the moment her hand touched her elbow the tune died on Penny's lips.

The silence became a solid thing in the room, as conversations stopped and spoons paused half way to mouths. Lars could see where this was going and began to rise. Frozen where she stood, Penny's focus a million miles away, her mind was lost somewhere in her past. As scenes played themselves like a horrific film, her breathing became faster and faster. A wet patch blooming on her dress and running to the floor, the horrors only she could see taking away control of her bladder. Then a scream filled with hysteria broke the silence that had taken hold. Lost in her own living nightmare, unable to break free, Penny screamed again. A loud cry, filled with horror and pain. Her shaking hands pulling at her hair, as she tried to pluck the images from her mind.

*Penny!' Lars shouted, trying to break through to her, *Penny, stop it. Penny you're safe, Penny!' But she could not hear him where her mind had taken her.

Then with a swiftness, Sister Rebecca pulled her around and with a loud crack, she slapped the hysterical Penny across the face. Abruptly the scream stopped.

*Sister!' Lars said, slightly shocked by her action.

*You're back with us now aren't you Penny, hmm.' She said, as she cupped Penny's chin to look directly in her eyes. Penny, blinking as if waking up, focused on Sister Rebecca momentarily before gliding over to Lars.

*It's alright Sir, I won't forget my homework' she said already drifting off into an alternative present.

Lars sat back down with a thump, a sadness enveloping him as he watched Sister Rebecca and Sister Margaret lead Penny away to wash. Now it was his turn to remember. Face after face of the sixth-formers he had been given charge of, each looking up at him eager for the knowledge he could share. Each with hopes for a future, a future where they planned and loved and lived, a future where they died when the time was right. But all their futures had been cruelly s.n.a.t.c.hed away by unknown dead hands. Leaving them b.l.o.o.d.y and dying as hungry mouths tore into their flesh.

Anne glanced over at Lars, concern on her young face. Then placing her small hand in his *Would you like some bread, Mr Lars?. It's a bit hard though,' she said, making a show of banging the hard bread on the table.

Looking at this small child trying to cheer him up almost made him want to weep.

*Thank you Anne, you're right it is a bit hard isn't it,' he said, with a sad smile, taking the chunk of bread Anne was offering him.

Liz smiled at Anne with a nod, *Well done.' she mouthed.

Slowly conversations began and once again, William was the centre of attention.

Has there being any sign of any government yet? Have you seen any of the army? Has there been any word from the scientists on Aukland islands? It was always the same when they met a new survivor. Desperate for information, the same questions would always be asked. And as always, the survivor would shrug their shoulders, knowing nothing of the world outside the small part they had been living in. If there was any effective part of the army left or a government squirrelled away in nuclear bunkers they were not making their presence felt. And as far as Liz was concerned the scientists looking for a cure were just a hopeful dream.

As the room began to return to normal, people finished their meal, all of them tactfully ignoring Penny's episode. People dealt with their past in different ways and although no one could blame Penny for the way she dealt with hers, that didn't mean they liked to have such an obvious reminder of the horrors they had all experienced.

Adrian and Bryon were helping the Sisters clean away the plates, so they could leave. Each evening the Sisters would retire to the Chapel to pray. Liz marvelled at their dedication, she doubted she would still be praying to a G.o.d who was so conspicuous in his absence. But then, these woman had each chosen their vocation to G.o.d long before the Dead came and changed everything.

Bryon wasn't asked to do watch duty. Although Liz was sure he would be capable of dispatching the Dead if the need arose, with his limp, they didn't want to chance it. Bryon had broken his leg nine months ago and although Nadine had done her best setting the break, without the aid of X-rays his leg had healed twisted. In a world where you could die from the simplest of things, Bryon was lucky to be left with only a permanent limp.

*Have you finished?' he asked, as he approached Liz and Imran, his arms already full of empty bowls and cutlery.

*Thanks Bryon,' Liz said, as she helped put their bowls on the top of the pile *How's it going in the green house? Bit hot in there at the moment I guess.'

*You wouldn't believe it.' He replied.

With watch duty off the cards and his previous career as a commercial artist more than redundant now, Bryon had developed a bit of a green thumb. Mohammad had found a long deserted organic farm on which three poly-tunnel style greenhouse had been erected. It had taken many trips but eventually they had managed to dismantle one and rebuild it just outside the Convent walls. With Sister Claire's practical know how and Nadine's theoretical knowledge, Bryon and Adrian had transformed the poly-tunnel into a mini garden of Eden. Every inch of s.p.a.ce was given over to food production. With manure from the horses and an ingenious irrigation system Duncan had rigged up, the poly-tunnel had proved indispensable.

*And how's the crop looking? I hear we may get a b.u.mper pineapple harvest this year.' Imran asked, the corner of his smile failing to cover his smirk.

Cam, on one of the foraging trips had found a small greenhouse with a sad looking pineapple plant growing in it. The fruit had been hard and not very tasty, but when Bryon had heard about it he nagged Cam to go back and get a cutting. They could replant it and eventually, he hoped with a lot of time, care and attention, they would have fresh pineapple. No one had been at all convinced but sure enough, by some miracle Bryon had managed to get the cutting to take root. There was of course, no sign of any fruit yet but Bryon was ever hopeful.

*Ha, Ha... very funny.' Bryon said, not all amused as he limped off to the kitchen muttering to himself.

*Oh, you shouldn't be so mean, he's only trying to make things nicer for us all.' Liz said, elbowing Imran in the ribs.

*Sorry couldn't help it.' he replied, smiling. Slipping his arm around her waist he pulled Liz closer to him. Just to feel her body close made everything in the world seem a little better.

*Am I forgiven?' he whispered, planting a soft kiss on her neck.

*Hmm, I suppose so, but it's not me you should be apologizing to.'

Imran rolled his eyes. He started to reply when he noticed Adrian standing behind Liz, watching her. Imran couldn't put his finger on it but there was something about Adrian he didn't like. He was short, mousey, with pinched mean features. Imran could imagine Adrian had been just the type of boy to taunt a pet dog just for the fun of it. Adrian was not good at fighting the Dead. He would rather leave a walking corpse for some-one else to deal with, rather than put himself in any danger. *Adrian' was Adrian's top priority and other people would just have to look after themselves.

Apparently Adrian had survived in London by taking to the sewer system to avoid the Dead. He had made himself a nest hidden just beneath the streets, while thousands of dead feet marched mere metres above him. Lifting up manhole covers from beneath, for a quick look through his homemade periscope, he would check if the Dead were near. Then he would scurry out of his underground haven into deserted shops and warehouses to search for food. Any hint of danger and he fled back to the safety of his sewer. There would always be another shop and London's sewer system went on for miles and miles. In a city populated mainly by the Dead, Adrian had faired surprisingly well. The Dead had no use for the tinned food that lay abandoned in supermarket isles, so pickings could be easy if you were careful. He rarely came across anyone else alive and on those rare occasions, discretion was certainly the better part of valour. He would slink into the shadows to avoid being seen. Hidden in an overhead air vent, he had once witnessed what happened when you were foolishly friendly with someone you came across while searching for food. He had watched as two scavenging men had set upon an unknown third, taking everything he had and then beating him unconscious. Afterwards the two men then took turns with the unlucky fool, satisfying other needs. After they were done with him, they had left him for the Dead to feast on. Adrian did not know if the man had regained consciousness in time to save himself and didn't care. *Better you than me.' was all he could think as he crept back to his home in the sewer. He had managed to live like this for almost three years until the fires that seemed to start up randomly, finally forced him to move. With huge areas of London alight, he was forced to abandon this safe life and flee. It was only when London was ablaze that he found out there had been more people surviving within the city than he had first thought. Banding together, out of necessity rather than want, they had escaped the flames and the walking Dead of London. As soon as he was safe he left this new group, preferring to chance it on his own. It was too easy for a group to unwittingly attract the attention of the Dead. On his own he could run and hide, as quiet as a mouse and wait to make his moves. When he came across the Convent he instantly knew a good thing when he saw it. A fortress against the Dead, the Convent would be his home, for now.

*Do you want something, Adrian?' Imran asked abruptly, irritated by this small, weasely man.

*No, nothing,.. sorry.' Adrian replied, nervously licking his lips.

Fl.u.s.tered that he had been caught staring at Liz, Adrian grabbed the last bowl on the table and scurried after Bryon. As Imran returned his attention to Liz, he failed to see the look of pure hatred that Adrian gave him as he left the room. As dusk began to fall on their dead world, the inhabitants of Lanherne Convent began to wind down their day. Like in a time of preindustrial revolution, their day was dictated by the rising and setting of the sun. People drifted off to their cells, glad to have survived another day. As Liz stood outside her door Imran held her hand, not wanting to let her go even for the few hours she slept.

*Sleep well my beautiful woman.' Imran said, as he lent forward to give her a gentle kiss.

As always the horrors of their world were gone, if only for the moment as they lost themselves in their embrace. A cough brought them back to the now, as Charlie made his presence known.