Seasons of Z (Book 2): Dead Spring Page 8

  He walked away from the drive, his weak leg feeling stiff as he limped around the side of the house, taking a look across the field. A crow had landed on a distant scarecrow and started picking at its face, then it pulled something out that seemed limp and too substantial to be straw. For a moment, he thought maybe that was a corpse out there, and the crow had just picked out an eye, but then he remembered this place was full of Halloween props, and smiled as he shook his head. He had seen too much horror since the outbreak, that was why he had just imagined that, he felt sure of it. The bird took flight, soaring up into the darkening sky like a charcoal animation against dark purple ink above. The woods looked shadowed in the distance.

  “Stay safe, Joy,” he whispered, still looking across the farmland to the field of scarecrows and the woods that lie beyond it.

  “Mickey?”

  River's voice had drifted from the front of the house.

  “What is it, River?”

  “I'm making hot chocolate for Poppy – would you like some too?”

  “Yes please!” he called back, “And be sure to use extra milk for mine, that powdered stuff is too weak.”

  “You're the one who gets through all our milk – just for your tea and chocolate! I'll leave it by the porch,” she told him.

  Mickey turned back and started to head for the front of the house, hampered by a weak leg that had started to drag because it was getting cold and he had been on his feet standing guard for far too long without a break.

  And while Mickey was making his way back, the front door was left open by River. Poppy had turned away from the window, now she was sitting on her bed and glancing at the clock and thinking of her sister. She hadn't even got changed for bed yet. She just wanted Sage to come home... And while the gate was unguarded, shadowy figures moved quietly down the lane, heading for the farmhouse...

  In the woods as it grew dark, the light of the moon led the way tracing a path of silver through the forest as Sage and the others slowly made their way through, heading for a clearing.

  “What's up ahead?” Chris asked as he held on to Joy's hand as they came to a sudden stop. The ground was uneven, so he put his other hand out, resting it against the thick bark of a tree.

  “I see a pathway that leads to a brick wall that runs all the way around a large house,” she told him, “There are lights... looks like camp fires... and I see vehicles parked up in there... I think people are living outside as well as inside the place. It's very old, the house has three levels and there are lights on inside...”

  “We should follow the trees around to the back and try and see more,” Sage whispered.

  Joy looked about in the gloom, seeing no shadows moving as the wind sighed through the leaves above them.

  “They're safely locked away in that place,” she remarked, “I doubt they post guards outside its walls... Let's go.”

  Then she went first, following the moonlit trail as Sage helped Chris negotiate the uneven ground. For Chris, it was a bumpy journey in mostly gloom, then suddenly light cut through his vision, flickering and dancing.

  “What do you see?” he whispered.

  He felt Joy's grip go tight on his arm. Up ahead, Sage gave a gasp.

  “Jesus...no, no... bloody hell no...” she whispered.

  “What do you see?” Chris said again as creeping unease sent a chill to his bones.

  Joy was standing a short distance from Sage. All three of them were still in shadow as Joy stared at the sight in front of them: The brick wall ended in height where spikes began, rising up another three feet, and here, around the back of the grounds were more camp fires, as people sat about eating and drinking and talking, unaware they were being watched. And high up on that spiked wall were human heads. The light reflected against the dead flesh and it was clear these heads had not been severed from zombies... they were human dead, eyes rolled up, some with mouths frozen open, some had hair blowing back on the breeze and all were impaled along the row of spikes that ran the length of the back wall. Joy turned to Sage.

  “We have to get back to the others, and get out tonight!” she said urgently.

  “What are you seeing?” Chris sounded frustrated.

  As they turned back quickly Joy grabbed his arm, turning him towards the woodland as they hurried back the way they came.

  “Heads on fucking spikes!” she whispered, “Not zombies, either – dead people, beheaded, the heads are all along the back wall of the house!”

  “Oh shit!” he exclaimed, and half stumbled as Joy quickly guided him over uneven ground as they vanished back into the shadows of the woodland, keen to get away from the house and back to the others. With neighbours like this, it was time to leave town...

  At the house, Mickey had not yet turned the corner to return to the front as a hooded figure leapt the gate, then slid back the heavy bolts. The gate creaked open. Mickey stopped walking, listening as between the stir of leaves and the way the breeze wrapped about the house, he heard something else... footfalls? He pushed all thoughts of his aching leg aside as he clutched at his gun and hurried around to the front of the house. On turning the corner, there was a flash of shadow that rose up. He had no time to yell out as a hard fist connected with his face, his weak leg turned in, and he fell hard as the world went dark.

  In the house, the milk was simmering in the pan. As she heard a sound carry from the front door, River hurried back to the open doorway, as her eyes widened in horror to see three cloaked figures approaching as a fourth dragged Mickey towards the gate. She dragged in a breath.

  “POPPY!” she yelled.

  The three men in cloaks ran at her and she turned, dashing back down the hallway, grabbing at a small table that held a telephone as it clattered to the ground behind her. She heard one assailant trip and fall, then she reached the kitchen, as another dashed in.

  She grabbed the milk from the stove and hurled it into his face as his hands flew up to burning flesh as he screamed. The knife on the chopping board was in her hand now. She could see the car keys on the floor, they had tumbled with the table, and all she had to do was get past the intruders... she had to, because Poppy was upstairs... River ran at the men, lashing out at faces, eyes, hands, anything in her way as her head span with panic and an arm grabbed at her. She bit down into flesh then lashed out with the now bloodied knife, pulled free and ran for the door, snatching up the keys as she reached the entrance. Poppy was standing on the stairs with a look of terror in her eyes.

  “Get to the car!” River yelled, and Poppy didn't need to be told twice as she darted out the door.

  A hand grabbed at River's hair, tugging painfully, and as her head snapped back, she dug the knife in low behind her as her attacker cried out. She gave the knife a twist and dragged it out, seeing blood spatter the once quaint wallpaper that covered the hallway. Then River was free as she ran for the door and outside, over to the car, hastily pushing Poppy into the back first, then slamming the drivers door as her shaking hand shoved keys into the ignition. She turned the key and the engine fired up. A hooded man had run up to the car, he stood there with a blistered face and a crazed look in his eyes as River shot the car forward, it hit him with a crunch and he rolled on to the hood, hit the wind shield with his back as cracks snaked through the glass, and rolled off again. Another man was staggering out of the house now, bleeding from a wound to his side. Survive, was all that ran through her mind as River reversed, then sped forward, bumping over the corpse and slamming into the other assailant. In the hallway, the lights were on and the third man was on the floor, dead and bleeding out. And the fourth was gone. Oh shit no, he had Mickey!

  River sat there, engine running, ready to hit anything that moved. She was a doctor, she saved lives, she didn't kill people, but today, she had. She wished they had been zombies. It would have been so much easier to live with: Today, she had killed three people...Then she heard crying in the back and turned her head.

  “It's okay, I got them,” she told Poppy, �
��We're going to stay right here until the others get back, and tell them what happened... they can help Mickey, they will, he's going to be fine... He has to be. We can't lose anyone else!” River gave a sob and stifled it quickly, aware the child in the back was terrified and looking to her, the only adult here, for support.

  “I'm okay,” River added, “It wasn't very nice, having to do this, but these people are dangerous. We're safe, you're safe, that's what matters right now...”

  Then she gave a gasp as more people ran in through the open gate. But this time, it was Joy, Sage and Chris. She left Poppy in the car and got out, then ran over in tears as she explained they had been attacked by Rosemary's people, and she had stabbed one, ran two over with the car, but the other one had got away – dragging Mickey with him...

  Mickey's head was aching as he opened his eyes. His weak leg was aching too, from falling hard and he could barely press against the stone floor with his weak hand, so he leaned on the other one to sit up, then he pressed his back to a cold wall, pausing to cautiously touch a cut to his head that was sticky with drying blood. As his vision cleared, he saw pale walls of old brick around him and behind him, and in front of him was a barred door.. this was some kind of cell?

  “Oh the fucking irony!” he said wearily, “The cops didn't get me thanks to the apocalypse, and somehow, I still end up behind bars!”

  He wasn't ready to move, he needed time for the throbbing in his head to stop, so he stayed there, leaning against the wall as he looked down at the blood that had dripped to his shirt. Then a figure approached on the outside of the bars, and as they took down the hood of their cloak, he was greeted by the smile of Rosemary, and now that blow to the head was making him feel mildly sick as she stood there looking down at him.

  “What do you want from me?” he demanded, looking up at her as his bruised head throbbed, “I'm no use to you – if you wanted our supplies, you only had to ask, we would have handed some over before we moved on... Or is it guns? Is that what you want?”

  Rosemary stepped closer.

  “We have no need for spare weapons. Those who join me give freely to the community...You belong here, Mickey. The weak are the way forward. The cripples and the sick and the young... The old can have their uses too, they will do anything to be defended from the dangers outside, they will give all they have. And I offer protection!”

  Mickey took in a slow breath.

  “You know where you can shove that offer! And call me cripple as much as you want, I don't give a shit. I got along just fine in the old world and I'm still here in this new one, without your help!”

  “Poor Mickey,” she said as she looked down at him, “You've suffered, I can see it in your eyes. But you will learn a new way now, the way we live. I am building a community to start again, we need men like you to make children with our women. So many men were killed in the outbreak, we need new blood....” an icy smile crept across her face once more, “I might allow you to do your duty and then keep you all for myself.”

  “Go fuck yourself!” he said sharply, “If you think I could get hard for a crazy individual like you, believe me when I say there's more chance of you finding a mate taking your pick from a zombie horde!”

  Her smile vanished as she glared at him.

  “Those who defy me, who refuse to join the circle and live as we do, end up in the field, Mickey.”

  He stared at her. As the horrible realisation hit him, her eyes shone coldly.

  “That's right, the scarecrows... those who refuse to become one with us are killed and put in the field. We also have a few zombies tethered out there too... mixed in with the corpses and those zombies are starving! Your friends will soon find out how hungry they are, I'm having my people cut them loose tonight. I don't doubt they will regroup at the house, thinking of a way to save you, but it will end badly for them. It's a shame about the child. We need children here, we need young minds to educate!”

  Mickey turned his face away, coughing as he puked on to the floor. It was a combination of that blow to the head, and the realisation that those scarecrows were a mix of zombies and dead bodies – they had been there all the time, and for three weeks, Chris has insisted he could smell death everywhere... They should have listened to him, he had been right... He still had the taste of puke in his mouth as he looked up at her as anger sparked in his gaze.

  “I don't doubt your idea of education would make me want to throw up all over again!”

  Rosemary smiled.

  “Educating the truth is an honour. We have to start this world again, free from all the mistakes of the past. Men and women will breed together and communities will grow, honouring nature and its spirits as the old ones guide us to take up old ways. We will celebrate them in blood to soil.”

  Mickey said nothing as he looked at her.. Blood to soil? Fucking witchcraft, devil worship? What was this lunatic into?

  “I will never embrace your ways,” he stated, “You can kill me for it, if it comes to it. But I won't be a part of this twisted shit!”

  Her eyes narrowed, then she moved on to the cell next door as she opened up a hatch with a creak.

  “Give it to me,” she demanded, then her voice became harsh and loud, “Give it to me, little freak!”

  Something was pushed out, and the hatch was closed again. Mickey listened, hearing a young man in the cell next door as he spoke up.

  “You might as well kill me too. I will never fit into your sick world, I would rather be dead!”

  “And you might be tomorrow, if you don't comply,” Rosemary replied, “You will accept our ways, and find yourself a mate, and contribute to the growth of our community. You will bear a child because you can, Anita.”

  “MY NAME IS ALEX!” he fumed, “ANITA IS MY DEAD NAME, YOU IGNORANT BITCH!”

  “You're just confused,” Rosemary replied as she stood beside the cell looking through the bars, “You were born a female, so you have to be a female. You were always the freak of the village.”

  “Only in your eyes! Everyone else understood!” Alex fumed.

  “Shh, Anita,” she replied mockingly, “You're just a girl who never met the right man. That will change when you embrace who you really are, and find a mate and use that womb you still retain. It is your duty to reproduce to help the community. Women were made as vessels for reproduction.”

  “I was never a woman on the inside before I transitioned!” Alex yelled, “You will never change me, Rosemary!”

  “You will soon take a different attitude when circle day comes,” Rosemary replied, “We have to spill blood to please the lord of ruin. It's the old ways now, there's no room for your delusions. You will join us willingly or die.”

  Alex took in a sharp breath as he stood up and grabbed at the bars, giving them a shake.

  “You won't always have the upper hand here,” he vowed darkly, “And when my time comes, what ever you think of me, as you lay bleeding out and I'm burning this place to the ground, you'll see I'm the last man standing!”

  There was a pause.

  “You just need some cock inside you,” Rosemary stated.

  “No thanks,” Alex said bitterly, “I prefer women.”

  “You're so confused,” Rosemary added, and then she walked back to the next cell.

  “Still defiant?” she asked Mickey.

  “I will never go along with your sick shit!” he said bitterly, “And I heard what you just said to the guy in the next cell – he's a trans man, a man, Rosemary! Life isn't as simple as biological men and women and nothing in between or outside of that! Either you've been sucking on a bible all your life or you've had your tongue up the devil's ass for too long - blood sacrifices? If I get out of here, I'm going to kill you and the sick bastards who help you run this place!”

  She drew back the plastic bucket she held in her hands and tossed the contents into the cell. Mickey gasped as his wounds stung, then he coughed and gagged as he realised she had just taken the bucket from the cell next doo
r to drench him in piss.

  “Piss on my coat and my suit?” he yelled, “You're fucking dead!”

  She stood there laughing with a demented look in her eyes.

  “It all ends if you obey, so think about it.” she said, then she walked off and Mickey saw a door at the end of the room slam shut.

  Piss was dripping from his hair. He took off his coat and did his best to wipe it off and clean himself up.

  “Sorry about that,”Alex said, and then there was a scraping sound as a loose brick was pushed through and fell to the floor.

  Mickey looked through the gap, seeing a young man with dark eyes who didn't look in the slightest bit feminine at all.

  “I'm Alex.”

  “Mickey.”

  “Nice to meet you. And we have to make a plan because we have a day left before one of us dies in the circle! My last cell mate was bled out for Lucifer or who ever she thinks is keeping her alive in the apocalypse. I'm probably next. But it might be you. It's better if it's neither of us, but we need to think of a plan!”

  Mickey leaned closer to the gap in the wall, looking back at him.

  “Did you try and make a plan with the last person who was in this cell?”

  “Yes,” Alex replied.

  “And they're dead now,” Mickey reminded him.

  “That's why we need a better plan this time around,” said Alex.

  Mickey gave a weary sigh.

  “What are we up against?”

  Alex replied right away.

  “She has a dozen men who keep this place and the people in it secure. She's been bringing in desperate, scared people, the kind that won't argue, who just want to be a part of a community and be safe from everything out there. A few weeks back, some of them got weapons together and tried to escape. She had them all shot and cut their heads off and mounted them on the spiked fencing at the back of the house. That's all the rest needed to see - there's the warning not to defy her orders.”