Part 16 (1/2)

*Her sister has taught her well,' Ruth mused, as she waited a few minutes to add to the authenticity.

When she thought she had waited long enough after the scream, she began to pant, sob and pound on the door, as if she had just run to that point in the corridor.

*Please Anne! Please it's me, Ruth the Reverend's wife. Please let me in, the d.a.m.ned are inside the Convent! Please, for my baby, Anne, don't let them kill me baby. Please!' The last word caught in her throat, as she was wracked with a panicked sob.

Inside her room, Anne listened to the Reverend's wife pleading to come in. Liz had told her if the Dead ever got into the convent she should never open her door to anyone, no matter who it was. The Reverend's wife sounded terrified, why didn't she go to one of the other rooms? Didn't she know the noise she was making would attract the Dead if they heard it? This woman was stupid but she didn't deserve to die and neither did the baby. Hoping she was doing the right thing, Anne reached up and drew the bolt back across. Slowly the door swung inward, revealing the Reverends wife, standing with tears running down her face. As the small woman turned to look at Anne, her face seemed to change before Anne's eyes. The tears stopped immediately and a cold hardness appeared in her pale blue eyes.

*You're coming with me, the Lord had commanded it,' she said coldly, lunging for the small girl standing in the doorway.

Five minutes earlier Sister Margaret was walking along the corridor to the Refectory, mentally ticking items off a list of things she needed to do that day. As she reached the door she noticed a strange smell in the air which she was unable to place. Like an itch in the back of her mind, the smell triggered a basic warning, but a warning of what, she could not pin down. Her hand hovered momentarily over the door handle, some primal instinct whispering an alarm to stop. On some deep subconscious level she knew she should not open the door but Sister Margaret was not a woman who gave into such things. After she briefly scolded herself for being so silly, she turned the handle and opened the door. As the door swung inward, the sight she beheld froze her to the very core. Immediately she realised the smell was the coppery tang of blood in the air. Her wide shocked eyes somehow took in every detail of the room in an instant. The wide spray of blood across the wooden table top, the pattern of droplets running down the gla.s.s on the window and of course the man sat slumped in the chair, droplets of blood dripping from his long fingers adding to the large pool of blood. A deathly silence filled the room, broken only by the rhythmic dripping of blood hitting the floor. Sister Margaret's world suddenly shrank down to the path of a single droplet of blood slowly running down the corpse's index finger. She could not move her eyes from the scarlet fluid running along the finger nail groove, to pool at the tip of the finger. The droplet expanded until it could hold no more liquid and then suddenly fell to the puddle below. She so desperately wanted to scream but the only thing to escape her throat were sharp panicky breaths. She willed her legs to move, she needed to get away from the carnage in the room but her body refused to do as commanded. When a tiny whine finally managed to pa.s.s her lips, the corpse sitting at the table sprang violently to life. A face turned sharply in her direction, a face spattered with blood and with teeth bared. It was a face she recognised. Looking into Mohammed's Dead eyes she knew she was what the Dead man wanted most in the world. Fighting against the primal fear that had taken control of her body, Sister Margaret managed to move one of her feet to take a step back. Before her shoe had left the stone floor, the Dead Mohammed sprang from his chair, knocking it backwards to the floor. With a ma.s.sive flood of adrenalin now pumping through her body, Sister Margaret managed to fight off the paralysis that had taken control of her muscles, to turn her body away from the fast approaching blood covered corpse. Before Sister Margaret was more than two steps into the hallway, the Dead thing lunged and landed heavily on her back. As they both fell to the floor, Mohammed's blood covered hands were already ripping away at her veil, desperate to get to her flesh beneath. Finally Sister Margaret's vocal cords let forth the horrified scream that had been building inside her. But for Sister Margaret, the scream had come too late. She had run out of time and as the echo of her cries died in the dim corridor, she knew no one would come in time to rescue her. With her veil now completely torn from her head and her wimple ripped at one shoulder, Mohammed threw himself down onto her exposed flesh. Sister Margaret screamed wildly and carried on screaming, while his teeth bit violently into her cheek. Such power was behind the bite that his teeth reached almost to the bone and as Mohammed pulled his head back he tore away a large chunk of her face. Sitting astride the struggling woman, the creature that had once been Mohammed chewed upon the stolen flesh hungrily, barely swallowing the mouthful before returning to tear another strip of flesh from the woman's face beneath him. By the time the Dead Mohammed had stripped the flesh from one side of Sister Margaret's face and neck, the woman's body had ceased in its struggle to survive, and as the body went into a cardiac arrest brought on by the shock and pain, Sister Margaret thankfully died.

While the last sparks of life fled Sister Margaret's body, the animated sh.e.l.l that had been Mohammed, jammed his fingers deep into her right eye socked and ripped out the eye, together with most of the optic nerve. Just as he was about to devour Sister Margaret's eye, a brief spasm rippled through the body beneath him. Looking down at the corpse, the Dead Mohammed did not understand what was happening. His Dead brain could not comprehend that Sister Margaret was about to join him in the ranks of the Dead, as all of a sudden the warm thing that had captivated him to the point of frenzy and had promised to satisfy the hunger that burned within him, was suddenly of no interest at all. Stuffing the eyeball in his mouth, Mohammed's animated corpse pushed itself off Sister Margaret and stumbling slightly, began to walk down the corridor in search of other warm things to bite into.

By the time Sister Margaret's reanimated corpse, managed to open its remaining film covered eye, the thing that had once been Mohammed had disappeared down one of the many dark corridors of Lanherne in search of warm flesh. Letting out a pitiful moan filled with such desperation and need, Sister Margaret's corpse pushed itself up from the blood covered floor and unsteadily got to its feet. It knew it needed something, something to stop the pain, surely if only it could eat, the pain would go. Yes, it would eat and eat and never feel pain again. Of course the Dead brain in Sister Margaret's head could not think of these thoughts in any rational way or intellectualise the cause and effect of eating the living. No, this was knowledge on a far more basic, fundamental level. Just as a wildebeest or sea turtle is hardwired to migrate across thousands of miles, or a spider spins its web over and over. To ignore the need to rip, tear and feed on the flesh of the living was impossible for the Dead Sister Margaret. You might as well ask the living to stop breathing. Devouring the flesh of a living being was what she was meant to do, on some level she knew this. So with nothing more than this basic compulsion demanding to be sated, the body that had once housed Sister Margaret, went in search of something warm to eat.

As tears streamed down Anne's face, Ruth held her firmly behind the door that led out into the courtyard. Ruth had dragged Anne, with her hands tied and mouth gagged, to the door and truly this was G.o.d's work, for he had made sure she had encountered n.o.body else on her short journey through the corridors. Holding the small girl behind the door she waved to her husband, letting him know all had gone to plan. At the signal, Reverend Moore ran over to the ladder leading up to the walkway.

*Hey! Hey, young woman!' he called to the woman turning in his direction when he stepped on the walkway. *The d.a.m.ned are in the Convent! Didn't you hear the screaming? You must save them.'

*What? Oh, s.h.i.+t!' Alice said, a million scenarios rus.h.i.+ng through her mind, all of them bad *Imran!'

As she screamed his name, Imran came running along the walkway, his bow already off his back ready for attack. At the sight of Imran running towards him, the Reverend stepped back, a shocked look on his face.

*Surely Ruth had sent this one to h.e.l.l?' he thought to himself, *No matter, they will all be there soon enough.'

*Imran, the Dead are in the Convent! They're inside!' Alice said, her eyes wide with fear and panic.

Climbing down the ladder as fast as she could, Alice knew within minutes her metal bat would be swinging at the skulls of friends no longer alive. Imran, knowing time was of the essence, did not wait to be told twice. He leapt to the ground when he was only half way down the ladder and ran after Alice, as she disappeared inside the building. Hidden behind the open door, Anne watched Imran and Alice run past her, unaware she was there. She tried desperately to make a sound so they would turn but to no avail. Struggling against her kidnapper was useless, with the razor pressed to her throat there wasn't much she could do. *Stay alive', that's what Liz had always told her. No matter what happened or what she had to do or go through, as long as she stayed alive, she knew Liz would come for her. Once Ruth was sure the coast was clear, she pulled Anne roughly from their hiding place, out into the courtyard. Already Nathan had got the first gate open and was starting to winch open the second outer gate so they could make their escape. Ruth thought it would be good to be on their way home again, they had spent too long among the d.a.m.ned and it sickened her. Throwing open the back hatch to their cart, Ruth thrust Anne inside.

*Just sit still and nothing will happen to you, OK' Ruth said, climbing in and pulling closed the hatch behind her. Seeing the fear in Anne's eyes, Ruth leant forward to gently, almost reverently touch her cheek.

*Don't worry, you are one of the chosen,' Ruth said, nodding as a strange madness danced behind her pale blue eyes, *The Lord has sent you among us to begin again. Don't you see? You are untainted by the age of Man. You were born into a world where the d.a.m.ned have been judged by our Lord and found wanting. There is no stain of the past world upon your soul.' With a far away smile on Ruth's face she moved to the front of the cart and gathered up the reins.

*You are pure,' she said, quietly over her shoulder, *and with the others, the Lord shall repopulate his kingdom.'

With a yell and a sharp flick of the reins, the cart began to move out through the open gates. Once the cart had been pulled all the way through, one of the side hatches opened and the Reverend Moore climbed in, panting.

*I thought you were going to kill the heathen?' he said, glancing briefly at Anne, tied up and gagged in the back of the cart.

*I did?' Ruth said a puzzled look on her face.

*Oh... ' the Reverend said, absentmindedly toying with his crucifix. *I guess he had a brother then. Never mind. G.o.d's demand will be done by one hand or another.'

A sob racked through Anne's terrified body, as she realised the Reverend's wife had murdered either Imran or Mohammed and now, one by one her friends would fall to the Dead stalking Lanherne.

Alice and Imran skidded to a halt at a junction in the main corridor. Pausing so she could listen for any sounds, Alice nodded for Imran to take one direction, while she would take the other. With an arrow pulled taught in his bow, Imran walked slowly with his back pressed to the wall, towards the Chapel. Wis.h.i.+ng him luck, luck that she too would need if they were to survive this day, Alice made her way towards the kitchen. She soon reached the next corner and paused. Listening intently she could clearly hear a set of footsteps coming briskly towards her. Pus.h.i.+ng herself flat against the wall, she held her bat high and readied herself for what may be coming. The figure came into view and Alice breathed a sigh of relief.

*Adrian,' she whispered.

*s.h.i.+t!' he said, jumping at Alice's unexpected presence. *d.a.m.n Alice, you scared the c.r.a.p out of me! Did you hear the screams?'

*No, but the Reverend did. Where did they come from?' she asked in a hushed whisper, continually looking up and down the corridor, she didn't want a nasty surprise running up behind her.

*Upstairs I think,' he said, nervously chewing on his thumb.

*Right then that's where we're headed,' she said, handing him the long knife that had been strapped to her calf *... come on.'

Alice began to walk off, leaving a stunned Adrian looking at the knife now placed in his hand.

*s.h.i.+t!' Adrian said to himself.

Adrian wasn't a fighter, he was good at hiding until things blew over, that's what he did. Stalking about in dark corridors actually looking for the Dead was crazy. Alice had just reached the stairs leading up to the sleeping cells. With one foot hovering on the first step, she turned to Adrian.

*Well?' she whispered. *Are you coming, or are you going to be a p.r.i.c.k you're whole life? Think of someone else for a change.'

She had barely finished the last word when a body came running at full speed down the stone staircase, knocking her to the floor and winding her. In the collision her bat was knocked from her grasp and rolled across the corridor floor, out of reach. Instantly b.l.o.o.d.y hands were on her and she knew whoever it was, was now one of the Dead. As she fought for her life, she struggled to keep her hands under the Dead creature's chin. Looking up at the savage Dead thing, desperate to rip into her flesh, she realised to her dismay that it was Mohammed. Her fingers slipped on his blood soaked neck and as her hands failed to find a good grip they slid lower until her fingers slipped sickeningly into a large slash wound across his neck. With Mohammed's oesophagus now literally gripped between her fists, Alice managed to keep just out of reach of his snapping gore covered jaws.

*Help me, you f.u.c.king a.r.s.ehole!' Alice screamed. Pus.h.i.+ng with all her might, she was only just keeping Mohammed's hungry mouth from her skin. *Help me!'

Risking a glance in Adrian's direction, she saw him shaking his head in disbelief and slowly backing away.

*Arraghh!' she screamed in frustration and anger.

If she got out of this alive, Adrian would pay for leaving her like this. Mustering up the last of her strength she yanked Mohammed's neck to one side, throwing him off balance for a split second. Using this small bit of momentum, she managed to lift one of her knees sharply up to her chest. Thankfully with her knee now wedged between them she could force just that bit more s.p.a.ce between herself and the frenzied cadaver.

Cursing herself for giving Adrian her calf knife, she knew she must get out from under Mohammed if she wanted to have any chance of survival. With the strength in her arms waning, she knew if she didn't make some sort of move now, Mohammed's corpse would be in biting range in a few seconds. With a strength mustered from a pure determination to survive, Alice yanked Mohammed to the side again. Thankfully this time, his body, slick with his own blood slipped off, giving her the split second she needed to wriggle out from beneath him. The Dead Mohammed, unable to abandon his quarry, reached to grab the back of her jacket but missed and Alice pulled herself across the blood smeared stone floor. Seeing he was about to lunge for her again, Alice turned on her hip and kicked Mohammed hard in the face. With a sickening crack, cartilage broke and skin split, as his nose was crushed by her forceful kick. Scrabbling away on her hands and knees, faster than she thought possible, Alice managed to make it to the foot of the staircase before Mohammed got to his feet. Once she had reached the stone staircase she pulled herself upright and turned to face her attacker. Now that she was on her feet she knew she stood a better chance and with a well placed kick to Mohammed's chest, he was thrown to the opposite wall. Alice didn't wait for Mohammed's corpse to get up again, instead she flew up the staircase in escape. Unarmed as she was, there was only so much she could do against an attacker that felt no pain and would never give up his pursuit. With her heart hammering in her ears she threw herself through the door of the first of the sleeping cells. Slamming the door closed behind her, her hands shook uncontrollably as she pulled the st.u.r.dy bolt across. Mohammed had only just reached the top of the stairs and she prayed he hadn't seen which cell she had disappeared into. Without the mental capacity that allowed him to think to search each cell, the Dead Mohammed would walk the full length of the floor and descend the staircase at the opposite end. Alice slumped to the floor with her back to the door, listening for his approaching footsteps. Sure enough, Mohammed's animated corpse simply followed the route it had seen her take and pa.s.sed by her hiding place, clueless of her presence. If he had seen her enter the room, nothing except another victim, would deter the Dead man from getting into the room to feast on her flesh.

As Adrian had backed away terrified, he watched Alice struggling with the obviously now Dead Mohammed, he couldn't help but feel a bit cheated that the Dead had found their way into Lanherne. Everyone always went on about how safe the convent was, and how well they had it here but, as usual, it was all going to go to s.h.i.+t, just like everywhere else. He should have stayed on his own, hiding away from both the Dead and the living alike, he knew that now. No one could mess things up if it was just him, *you can't rely on anyone but yourself in this world,' his dad had told him when he was barely twelve years old and Adrian had lived by his dad's advice ever since. A tiny part of him was glad it was Alice being eaten alive. That b.i.t.c.h had shown him up in front of everybody and quite frankly she deserved what she was now getting. Finally, Adrian dragged his eyes away from the fighting couple on the floor and began to walk in the other direction, leaving Alice to her fate. As he walked, a dozen things ran through his mind at once. He had to think clearly he said to himself, he had to find a safe hiding place where they wouldn't find him. He wasn't a fighter, no way could he deal with the newly turned Dead, they were far too fast and agile for him. No, he would find somewhere to hide and wait the three or four hours for them to wind down and then he might just have a chance of escape. Adrian, desperate to find somewhere to hide and on the verge of panic, was now almost running through the many dark corridors of Lanherne. When he placed a foot, unknowingly into a large slippery puddle of blood, blood that up until a few minutes ago had been housed in the body of Sister Margaret, he lost his footing and fell to the floor, hard. With a crack, the side of his head connected with the stone and as the world began to fade away, Adrian's last thought was, *Oh, f.u.c.k!'

Adrian snapped back to consciousness screaming. One of the nuns was leaning over him, b.l.o.o.d.y and unrecognisable. With a tug, she pulled her decimated face upwards and away from his stomach, something wet and b.l.o.o.d.y in her mouth. Horrified, Adrian looked down at his body, instinctively knowing what he was about to see but refusing to believe it. The Dead woman had torn into his body, as he lay p.r.o.ne and unaware. The agony of his flesh being ripped from his body had pulled him back to a reality he would rather not encounter. As unbelievable pain racked though him, he watched, unable to comprehend, that the flesh and pulsing organs the nun greedily stuffed into her mouth, had come from inside his own body. The Dead woman reached into him again and forcibly ripped something vital from him. Through all this, Adrian could hear an unnatural sound of pure terror echoing loudly through the corridor, only when his breath caught in his throat did he realise the sound was his own. Finally with a violent spasm, Adrian's body could take no more of this abuse, and with a spray of blood coughing from his torn lungs, he thankfully died. For a few minutes the Dead woman continued to gorge herself on the warm b.l.o.o.d.y flesh before her. Grabbing handfuls of slippery organs, one after the other, she stuffed them into her mouth in a desperate attempt to satisfy the hunger that burned through her. When her meal suddenly sat up, she no longer recognised it as something desirable. So with bits of flesh hanging from her mouth and fingers, Sister Margaret slowly pulled herself upright and wandered off in search of something else to quench her need.

*Let me just get the gun Justin and then we'll get you cleaned up,' Barry said to Justin who was standing in the gunroom doorway still picking bits of mud from his face and hair.

*It was all Anne's fault, she pulled me over... Bet she did it on purpose too,' Justin said, idly kicking at the doorframe.

*Now it was no one's fault,' Barry said, as he opened the cupboard that housed the convent's weaponry. *If anyone is to blame, it's the rain for making it so slippy.'

Barry removed the handgun that had previously belonged to the corpse of a Dead soldier and began to check the weapon was clean. Even though he knew Charlie was meticulous when it came to keeping their few guns in perfect working order, he liked to check for himself anyway. Satisfied all was as it should be, Barry took down the box of bullets to load the gun. Taking a single bullet out of the box he thumbed the hard cold metal and was instantly taken back to the first time he fired a weapon during his training in the rapid response unit many years ago. Of course, then they only had to deal with drug dealers, potential terrorists and the odd executive having some sort of breakdown. If anyone had told him then he would end up using his training to kill those who were already dead, he would have thought them insane. Barry smiled at the memory of better times, as he pushed the bullet home into its chamber.

*Come on, hurry up Uncle Barry, this mud's a bit itch....' Justin's last word was cut short by a figure covered in blood barrelling into him, knocking him to the ground. Justin screamed in wild terror, as the ruined face of Sister Margaret loomed into view.

*s.h.i.+t!' Barry said, shocked by what had happened.

Without thinking Barry ran to the door, stupidly dropping the gun on the table. Grabbing the Dead Sister by her neck and the back of her habit, Barry pulled the slight woman off the terrified Justin before she could bite him. Other memories, a lot less pleasant rushed to fill his mind now. Another child that had been entrusted in his care, a child bitten and unknowingly infected, a child he could not save. Despite the Sister's small stature, she seemed to possess a wild strength alien to her size. The Dead woman now moved with a manic frenzy, waving her arms and kicking her legs to be free, desperate to bite into the small screaming boy at her feet. Realising that another potential meal was holding her back from her prize, the Dead Sister turned her head to snap at the warm fingers gripping her neck, but luckily for Barry, they were just out of reach of her teeth.