Part 1 (1/2)

Surviving The Evacuation.

Book 6: Harvest.

Frank Tayell.

Dedicated to my family.

Synopsis.

A castle can be made safe from the undead, but not from the people inside the walls.

It is eight months since the outbreak. In the anarchy and chaos that came with the undead, civilisation was destroyed. In the wars that followed, the planet was nearly ruined. Billions died. Only a few thousand survived.

Fifty people have found refuge in the Tower of London. Zombies plague the city outside the old fortress. The wasteland beyond is filled with nothing but radioactive ruins. With nowhere left to retreat to, and in a final attempt to make the ancient castle a place where they can do more than just slowly starve, the survivors take their boat west, searching for food in the abandoned coastal farms. They find something else. They discover that hunger, thirst, and the undead arent the only threat they face.

Betrayal and danger lurk in the shadows in this, the penultimate book in the series. It will conclude in Book 7: Home, due out later this summer.

Prelude:.

Suitcases.

London, 23rd February.

”Derry? Corporal Derry? Is that you?”

Derry looked up and saw a man with a vaguely familiar face, wearing a uniform as familiar as her own. ”Thompson?” she asked, and the memory came back. ”That thing in the Sahara, eighteen months ago, right? And you made it to corporal, too.”

”Because of it, I think. Almost made it to sergeant, then this happened.” Thompson waved a hand, not at the other uniforms in the conference room of a hotel to the north of Whitehall, but as if to take in the chaos outside. ”Zombies, can you believe it?” he asked.

”Almost,” Derry said. ”Did you hear the rumour that it was a terrorist attack?”

”No,” Thompson said. ”Where did you hear that?”

”Yesterday I was on duty at a supermarket. I heard it from the colour sergeant in charge of the detail. He got it from a major who used to work intelligence. Hes a solid source.”

”Right,” Thompson said, clearly weighing up how reliable that made the information. ”What kind of terrorists? Fundamentalists?”

”Sounded more like someone who wants to destroy the world just to prove they can,” she said.

”Oh.” Thompson mulled that over, and shrugged. ”What does it matter, right? Its not like were the ones going to track them down.” He waved the piece of paper in his hand. ”Im off to an inland farm. What about you?”

”The same,” Derry said. She looked down at her own orders. ”Somewhere near Dover, going by the post code.”

”Shame,” Thompson said. ”Mines in Hamps.h.i.+re.”

”Itll make a nice change from guarding supermarkets and petrol stations against looters.” She gave her head a rueful shake. ”A stint in the countryside will be like a holiday.”

”Sounds like you got the short straw. Ive just come from the British Museum. And you wont guess why. They-” But he was cut short by a parade ground bark.

”Atten-SHUN.”

Derrys feet snapped together as her eyes snapped to the door. A colonel had walked in. At least the man wore the uniform of a colonel. When shed last seen him, eighteen months before and on the same mission in which shed met Corporal Thompson, hed been dressed as a civilian and claimed to be the same. Behind him came a woman she recognised instantly. Jenifer Masterton, an opposition MP whod been appointed Minister for the Interior in the emergency cabinet.

”Thank you, Colonel,” Masterton said. ”At ease, everyone, please. We dont have time for those formalities. For that reason, Ill keep this brief. Colonel Cannock has recommended all of you.” She turned to nod at the man wearing the uniform of a colonel. ”He says that he has worked with you in the past, and that you are diligent, trustworthy, and loyal. Those are the qualities we need in these dangerous times. We face the very real possibility of the extinction of our country, our civilisation, and indeed, our species. To prevent this, we are establis.h.i.+ng a series of fortified farms. Redoubts, if you will, to ensure the nation does not starve now that the global food chain has collapsed. You must protect the farmers and train them to protect themselves. It should be obvious to everyone that there will be no more imports of oil. We will be relying on manpower and...”

Derry tuned out what Masterton was saying. Despite saying shed keep it brief, the politician was using a lot of words to say what the soldier already knew. She was to prevent the farmers, and the increasingly large number of workers, from stealing any of the food they grew. Walls would be built to keep the zombies out, and it was Derrys responsibility to ensure any they did see were killed. It sounded like a pretty easy billet, certainly easier than acting as an executioner in the city.

”There are hard times ahead,” Masterton said, drawing her speech to a close. ”But with hard work, we will have a future. Thank you.”

It was a weak ending to an odd speech, Derry thought, as the Minister left the room. It was almost as if Masterton had wanted to remind the military that the politicians were still in charge. Perhaps she had, or perhaps she wanted to remind these soldiers who were about to go out to farms where the population would soon rise from dozens to hundreds, if not thousands, that she was one of those politicians in charge.

”Thats it,” Cannock drawled. ”Youre dismissed.”

”When are you getting to Kent?” Thompson asked. ”Because Im not leaving until tomorrow morning.”

”In an hour,” Derry said.

”Well, theres a pub I know of near here. Its closed, of course, but the landlord will open up for us.”

”Yeah, okay. I can spare time for a drink,” Derry said.

”Then theres an exit round the back of the hotel. This way.”

They joined the group filing out of the door, but turned right when everyone else turned left.

”You find the ballroom,” Thompson said. ”Then you take a left.”

”How do you know?” she asked.

”I asked the girl on the reception desk,” Thompson said. ”I had a feeling this was going to be my last chance to get a decent pint for a long while. And what are they going to-” He stopped talking because ahead, they could hear voices.

”Im surprised you didnt want to see her,” a man said. Derry recognised it as that of the fake colonel, Cannock.

”I see enough of her as it is. Why was she here?” another man asked. Derry recognised that second voice, though shed only previously heard it on the news. It was Sir Michael Quigley.

”To give a pep talk to the troops going to those farms you designated for the backup plan,” Cannock said.

”Good G.o.d, why?” Quigley asked.

”Who knows? I did offer to deal with her, but you insist-”

”Yes, yes. Shes my problem, not yours. Speaking of your problems, those contacts of yours... I forget the womans name, the one your friend works for. Youve made arrangements for them?”

”Its all in hand, sir.”