Part 9 (1/2)
”Good advice,” he said, picking up his pace. ”But I was going to say keep your weapons handy. Well come across the undead soon enough.”
He was right. Though the first they came to wasnt a threat. It was a forlorn creature standing in the middle of an empty field. Or that was what Chester first thought.
”Its been baked in there,” he said as they walked past. The zombies hands clawed out as it tried to reach them, but its feet were stuck fast in the ground.
”It must have been there for... I dont know. Months,” Greta said.
”Since the late spring rains,” Chester said. ”It stayed there for wont of any reason to leave, and now itll remain there until the rains come again.”
The creatures arms were flailing up and down almost in unison, and with each swing a tattered fragment of cloth flew off, only to drift down around its feet like a macabre blossom.
”Well go on for a mile and a half south, and then turn east,” Chester prompted, and they set off once more.
The fields they pa.s.sed were much the same as the one with the living scarecrow and filled with nothing more edible than weeds and the occasional serpentine bramble snaking out from an overgrown hedgerow.
”You think we can eat them?” Reece asked as they pa.s.sed one laden hedge.
Greta pulled a berry from a stem, and popped it in her mouth. ”Think so,” she said.
”Id have washed it. Dont know whats been along this road,” Chester muttered. ”And checked the Geiger counter first.” But when he did, the reading was no different from earlier. Chester mulled that over for the next mile. He trusted Mr Tull and could see no reason why he would have lied. And, indeed, it was a good thing that Kent wasnt the radioactive wasteland that Scotland and parts of the Midlands had become. But why had it been spared? Hed just come to the conclusion that the answer must be connected to why theyd seen so few of the undead when, reaching the top of a slight hill, they saw a dozen zombies huddled in a dip a hundred yards further down the road.
”Four of us. Twelve of them,” Finnegan said.
”Yeah,” Chester said. ”So dont just stand there. Get across that field.”
”Were not going to fight?” Finnegan asked with obvious surprise.
”Whats the point?” Chester replied. ”Itd only slow us down.”
The field led to a paddock and the skeleton of a horse.
”Wheres the raven?” Reece muttered as they climbed another fence and were back on a road.
”What?” Chester asked.
”Shouldnt there be a raven? Shouldnt there be birds? Didnt you say you saw lots at the airport?”
”Parakeets. Hundreds of 'em. Havent seen a raven of late except at the Tower.”
”Foreboding, thats what it is,” Reece muttered, too morosely for Chesters taste.
The road curved and kinked, and Chester realised they were heading more south than east. He was about to propose they turn back towards the coast when Finnegan pointed.
”There. You see that?”
Chester looked ahead. ”What? You mean the trees?”
”Yeah, theyre planted too neatly,” Finnegan said. ”That must be an orchard.
”I cant see any fruit,” Chester said.
”Not all fruit is bright red,” Finnegan replied.
The road dipped and twisted, and the trees were lost from sight. Chester was just wondering whether anyone had built a straight road in Kent since the Romans, when they saw the field again. Now they were closer, it was obvious that the trees were planted in rows, and that they had once been cultivated.
”Zombies,” Reece hissed.
In front of a wide, tall gate were six of the undead. Two had been male. One, judging by the lank remains of long blonde hair, had possibly been female. The other three were too desiccated to make out any features beyond the snapping teeth, gnas.h.i.+ng and snarling with increased vigour as the zombies saw the four travellers.
”This is where we fight,” Chester said. ”Ive got the right. Finnegan, you take the left. Try and angle behind them. Greta and Reece, you go down the middle of the road. Get them to split up. Remember, go for the legs. If more than two come at you, back away. Dont run, just move quicker than them.”
They walked abreast down the road as the creatures staggered towards them. Chester raised his mace, and the other three raised their axes. He took a hopping skip forward. As hed hoped, the sudden movement caused two of the undead to angle towards him. One was tall, even after months of walking death. The other, save for a matted beard that stretched half way down its neck, was as nondescript as the hundreds of others hed brought to a second, final end.
The tall creatures arms clawed pendulously out and down. Chester skipped back, out of reach, then forward. He raised his left arm to block its back-swung hand as his right went low, smas.h.i.+ng the mace into its calf. There was a moment of soft resistance as flesh was pulverised, and then a sharp crack as bone broke, and a grunt from Chester as the toppling zombies flailing arm slapped against the side of his head. Ears ringing, he stamped his heel into its jaw with a revengeful crunch.
The second of the undead was only a pace away. Chester took another step back as it took a step forward. The p.r.o.ne creature lashed out with its spindly arms. The second zombie tripped. Fell. Chester brought the mace, two-handed, down on its skull.
He turned his attention to the other four and cursed. Reece was cleaving his axe left and right, hacking at the three zombies in front of him. Each blow cut flesh, severed fingers, and maimed limbs, but the only effect of his wild swings was to force Greta back behind him where she couldnt reach the undead.
”Go for the knees!” she yelled. But Reece didnt hear, and with each blow he took a half step forward, and the undead were edging around him.
Chester bellowed as he ran towards the trio of undead. They paid no attention to his war cry, and were still swiping and clawing at Reece as Chester swung the mace low, knocking one to the ground, then high, smas.h.i.+ng a second to its knees, then up over his head to bring it cras.h.i.+ng down on the thirds skull.
”Finish them. Quick,” he yelled, but Greta was already darting forward, stabbing the axes sharp point at a zombies exposed head. Chester turned to look for the last one and saw Finnegan leaping over its unmoving body, heading towards that spindly creature whose spider-like arms still flapped against the muddy roadway. Finnegan swung down once, Greta once more, and it was over.
”Alright,” Chester said, breathing hard. ”Look. Reece. Reece? Look at me. Right. Youre all right. Its over. You did good, but next time remember that youre not chopping wood.”
”And try and aim at their heads, not mine,” Greta snapped.
”Yeah. Um. Im sorry,” he mumbled.
”Well, what about this orchard?” Finnegan prompted.
It wasnt an orchard. Supported on rows of wooden poles, a great lattice of wire and rope was suspended ten feet above the ground. Trailing up and then hanging down in nearly neat rows about eight feet apart, was a ma.s.s of leaves, dangling from which were a forest of small cone-like flowers.
”What are they?” Greta asked, picking one and rubbing it across her fingers.
”Hops,” Chester said. ”As in beer. That was the other thing that Kent was famous for.”
”Can we eat them?” Finnegan asked.
”I dont think so,” Chester said. ”Lets try the next field. Thatll at least get us away from the road.”
At the fields far end they found another gate leading to another hop garden.
”Hold my legs,” Chester said as he climbed up the gate. Braced, he craned his neck left, then right.
”Theres a couple of fields like this to either side,” he said, as he jumped down. ”Beyond that, I cant tell.”
They climbed over the gate and into the second field. This one was not so picture perfect as the first. Half of the wooden trellises had been pulled down or had collapsed under the strain. Still, Chester thought, as he took a cautious sip from his water bottle, it was a more pleasing sight than most hed come across.