Sleep Think Die Read online

  “Medulla Oblongata,” Gasher announced matter-of-factly, as he always did after every kill, “got to get the lower brain stem otherwise these bastards just keep going and going,” He retrieved his knife, wiped it on his trousers and pocketed it again.

  The colour of its brains was wrong Carson noticed, when at last the zombie slumped face down, its limbs twitching sporadically as its gave up the fight and it succumbed to real death. Everything was wrong here. Maybe the man in the ceiling had some answers.

  There was a sharp splintering sound as the last remaining ceiling tile gave way. The man fell clumsily, landing with the upper half of his torso on the dead zombie, the lower half on the rubble strewn floor. He landed hard, emitting a string of colourful expletives. He recovered himself enough to take in the expressions of the three men standing over him.

  “First we looked up to you, now we look down on you and we’ve only known you five minutes!” Rumble quipped, rifle once more slung over his shoulder, an uneasy smile on his face, “Any more where he came from?” he asked, shoving the zombie with his boot.

  Carson seemed suddenly to realise what he was sitting on. He struggled up hurriedly, grateful for Bumper and Rumble’s hands as they reached down to help him.

  “That was way too close!” he murmured, bending to catch his breath and rub his bruised shins, “Way too close for my liking!”

  “So?” Rumble asked again, “Any more?”

  “Plenty, more’s the pity. You’re not from round here then?”

  The trio exchanged wary glances, “I suppose you could say we are just passing through,” Bumper said, “Are you a local boy?”

  Carson grinned ruefully, “Lived here all my life, looks more and more like I’m going to die here too. I’m surprised to see you if I’m honest. It must be months since anyone new came strolling down these streets; at least, without turning into dinner on the way. Why would you want to come here?”

  “More to the point, why would you want to stay here?” Bumper asked.

  For a moment, it looked as if Carson might take offence. Then he gave a tired smile and said, “Fair question. Why indeed? Look, let’s get out of here while it’s still light. I know somewhere relatively safe we can go until morning.”

  “You do?” Gasher asked sceptically.

  “About as safe as it gets anyway,” Carson said, stepping over the corpse and peering out into the corridor beyond, “Looks like it’s all clear. Let’s go before we find ourselves with more company.”

  “Which brings me to another question,” Gasher said, laying a large hand on Gasher’s shoulder, “Why were you in here in the first place? The gym, I mean? Anything in here worth taking?”

  Carson shook his head, looking genuinely puzzled, “Not that I know of,”

  “Then why were you in here?” Gasher’s eyes grew small with suspicion.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Carson asked in return, “I was hiding.”

  *

  Back out on the street there was no sign of Lavender, though Bumper never doubted for a second that she had eyes on them. He was surprised at how much darker it had already become; he had not realised it was so late in the day. The prospect of holing up somewhere reasonably safe for the night was a pleasant one. He was exhausted in both body and mind, and starving too. With a bit of luck this stranger could be persuaded to share a meal as well as a place to stay.

  “It’s this way,” Carson was keen to get off the street.

  “Wait just a minute,” Bumper said, “one of our crew is missing,”

  “Missing?”

  “Well, not missing exactly, she’s just not here yet. Don’t worry, any minute now she’ll turn up, cool as a cucumber,”

  They all stood, waiting expectantly.

  “Whilst we are waiting we might as well get a few pleasantries out of the way. My name’s Carson. I should thank you for what you did in there, if you hadn’t have turned up I’d be finished by now, no question,”

  “No problem,” Gasher said, shrugging his shoulders as much as to say he really didn’t care about saving anyone, it was the combat he relished.

  “We made it a rule to get involved only if there’s a human in immediate danger. Otherwise we would most likely all be dead or zombies ourselves by now. My name’s Bumper,” he stretched out a hand, “Bumper Scuffs.”

  Carson accepted the hand shake, looking at Bumper oddly. Bumper ignored it and went on with the introductions, “The crazy bastard who saved you for certain is Mad Gasher, and this is Rumble Strips,”

  Carson shook each hand, his expression becoming more and more incredulous, “You’re a crew you say? So, who is it we are waiting for; Corporal Punishment? Candy Cane?”

  Gasher’s relentlessly swinging club arm came to a sudden halt as he turned to look properly at Carson. Rumble fell still too, with a certain set to his shoulders that Bumper recognised but did not welcome.

  “I’m sorry?” Rumble said softly, “I’m not sure we follow you mate,”

  Carson stepped back, both hands raised, “Hey look, I never meant anything by it. I just meant that, well, come on you have to admit, those names are not what anyone would call ordinary are they?”

  “They are ordinary to us,” Gasher rumbled.

  “Is it a problem?” Rumble Strips asked, moving closer a step.

  “Take it easy mate,” Bumper soothed, stepping neatly in-between the two men, “it’s no big deal, just a misunderstanding. Right, Carson?” he said, looking straight into the man’s eyes.

  “Right,” Carson said, grinning now, “No big deal at all.”

  His eyes flicked away up the street. Bumper turned, hoping it wasn’t another undead as Carson had predicted. He heaved a sigh when he saw it was just Lavender.

  “I assume this is the fourth member of your crew, right?” Carson said behind him.

  “Right,” Gasher said, stretching out an arm and grasping Lavender protectively to bring her to a halt as she drew level, “one of us.”

  Gasher allowed Lavender’s shrug to remove his hand. She flashed him a look of surprised irritation but said nothing. She turned to Bumper and nodded her head at Carson.

  “Who’s this?” she demanded.

  “This is Carson,” Bumper said.

  “We saved him from an undead,” Gasher added sourly.

  “An undead?” Lavender asked, eyes resuming their usual restless darting, “So can we go now?”

  To her further surprise, all heads turned to the newcomer for the answer. He flashed a smile though it didn’t reach his eyes, “Follow me, stay close and move fast,” he said, “Night seems to fall quickly round here and that’s when the streets get really busy, if you know what I mean.” He gave Lavender an appraising look, “It might be better if Corporal Punishment here put herself in the middle,” he suggested.

  Gasher growled at the name. Lavender eyed Carson keenly, her fingers working at something in her pocket. Bumper felt a pang of pity for the man; he was yet to find out what it meant to push his luck too far with her, but he was damned if he was going to warn him. Let him find out the hard way.

  “My name is Lavender Gin,” Lavender asserted, pulling herself up to her full, petite, height.

  “Of course it is,” Carson grinned, before turning and stepping down into the derelict road.

  What’s in a Name?

  Carson was leading them out of what had once been the main part of the town, into the outskirts. Here the buildings were even more ramshackle, the atmosphere at once quieter and more threatening. The tree lined walk way they turned into should have offered some comfort. The trees were planted wide apart which would have made it easier to see if anything was hiding amongst them or coming. But the light was fading fast and the tangle of boughs and branches fed into their tired imaginations, making it appear like figures were hiding amongst them.

  Carson set the pace, a brisk trot, his eyes everywhere. The others followed his lead in silence,

  At last the little group slowed, the trees
bordering the walk way they were on thinning out, then ending altogether. They couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw where Carson had brought them.

  “A graveyard?” Carson said disbelievingly, “We’re in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, and you bring us to a graveyard?”

  Carson nodded, pushing open the oddly intact lych-gate and stalking off down the path to the church. To either side of him not a single grave was left un-desecrated. Every grave without exception had been violated; once neat, respectful mounds become scattered hollows. Where the earth had been strewn wildly in reckless clumps grass had long since taken root and grown, causing uneven, ankle-threatening tummocks to be dotted about the place haphazardly. Coffins had been smashed into, pulverised, in some cases pulled wholesale from the earth. left to rot where they lay. All of them were empty, save a scrap or two of cloth or an odd bone or tooth.

  Carson strode past it all to the church entrance, where he turned around, “You coming?”

  They exchanged looks, conferring.

  “How long have you been hiding out here?” Gasher shouted back.

  “Pretty much since all this shit started,” Carson answered, “So, are you coming or not?”

  Something on the rapidly darkening alleyway behind them gave a low moan. It could have been an animal; it could have been the wind.

  “We’re coming,” Lavender muttered, pushing open the gate and hurrying down the path through the ruined graveyard. Wordlessly, the men followed her.

  It came as no surprise to find that the church door was no longer there, only buckled iron hinges clinging to the frame. They followed Carson into the shadowy belly of the church.

  Negotiating the rubble-strewn aisle, they sidestepped the smashed altar, coming to a door hanging disjointedly open to the left. It took them through a small passageway and up a flight of stone stairs. A second door at the top stood firmly shut.

  “Good to see we’ve had no visitors today!” Carson chirruped jokingly, turning a large key in the lock, pushing down the handle and indicating the others go before him.

  “Yeah? How do you know?” Gasher asked, the last one to squeeze past. Carson gave him a look of derision.

  “Because Zombies don’t usually close doors behind them,”

  “First time for everything,” Rumble muttered.

  “I thought you said this was a place of safety?” Bumper said.

  “I said relatively safe,” Carson corrected him, “Look I know it doesn’t look much now, but just trust me, ok? We’re not inside yet. Once we are you’ll start to feel better, I promise. Take the stairs ahead of you. I’ll catch up once I’ve secured the door.”

  Bumper hung back while the others began climbing the stairs cautiously. Gasher led the way, club held aloft, ready for anything.

  Bumper watched as Carson locked the door from the inside, leaving the key in the lock before reaching for something leaning against the wall in the corner. He straightened, hefting what looked like a bar of solid metal. Sliding it into two brackets fixed either side of the doorway, he wiped his hands across one another and turned to Bumper.

  “It’s secure?”

  “As secure as I can make it, yes,”

  “So you do have the occasional, visitor, then?”

  Carson shrugged, “It’s very rare. The narrowness of the corridor and the height advantage of the stairs makes it easier to put up a defence if need be. I’ve only had to do it once in all the time I have been here,”

  Bumper considered, “You don’t barricade it when you’re out?”

  “No, what’s the point?”

  Bumper thought about it, “There might be a nasty surprise waiting for you up here one of these days,” he suggested.

  “You heard me say zombies don’t generally close doors behind them?”

  “Yes?”

  “Well they don’t tend to open them either, as a rule,” he paused, averting his eyes, “usually they just smash right through them. Barricading it from the outside would be a lot of pointless work,”

  Bumper nodded, something niggling at him, “Right,” he said, “pointless.”

  Carson brushed past him, signalling the end of the conversation. Bumper didn’t push it; he needed time to think. To put his finger on what was bothering him. They climbed the stairs up to the others in silence.

  *

  The stairs led to a small, doorless room that remained comparatively intact compared to the rest of the church. Bell ropes that had once dangled into the space for the faithful to toll were now gone, though the bells themselves were still there.

  There came a scraping noise behind them. Carson was manhandling an upturned, roughly sawn pew across the gap at the top of the stairs. “Pretty much useless defensively I know,” he explained, “but just having something resembling a door there makes me feel better,”

  Lavender nodded in agreement, whilst Rumble and Gasher exchanged a meaningful look.

  “I know what you mean,” Bumper said.

  “Knew you would,” Carson said, “Okay, you’ve got a choice; bed down here on this level, or go up to the very top, to the belfry. It’s not as bad as you might think up there. I’ve boarded up the gaps in the walls. I mean, it’s not a perfect job or a piece of carpentry heaven, pardon the pun, but it’s not too draughty.”

  “I’m going up there,” Lavender said unhesitatingly. She crossed to the remaining flight of stairs that would lead to the topmost point of the church, “You sure it’s safe?” she looked directly at Carson.

  “I’m sure,” he assured her, “If there was anything up there we’d know about it by now, wouldn’t we?”

  “Right,” Lavender agreed, looking suddenly embarrassed. She disappeared up the steps without saying another word.

  The men looked at one another, “I’ll stay here, just in case anything does get through that door,” Gasher said, “You with me Rumble?”

  “I reckon so,” Rumble said, scanning the room, “You’ve been busy,” he said to Carson.

  “After we’d been here a while we thought we might as well get comfortable, so we brought up some cushions, coats and smocks that had been left hanging in the vestry to use for blankets, that kind of thing,” Carson paused, remembering, “We struggled getting the pew up here though, even after we had sawn it in half,”

  “We?” Bumper asked curiously.

  “Yeah, me and Jake. He was a friend of mine. The vicar had hired him to do some work around the cemetery; you know, raking leaves, cutting back hedges, tidying the graves and all that. That’s how come he had the saw. It was what he was holding when the first of the undead made an appearance; at least, the first one we saw. I’d come up to the church to look in on him, see how he was doing. One minute we were leaning on the fence talking, the next Jake was vaulting it like an Olympic athlete, saw in hand, running hell for leather down the walk way. I thought he was winding me up at first, some elaborate joke. Then I saw he was genuinely terrified. That’s when the screaming started, people being torn down and ripped apart as they tried to leave the church. I leaned over to grab a tool myself, a hammer, then I ran too. You bet your arse I ran!”

  “Why did you bother with the pew?” Gasher asked, apparently unmoved by Carson’s experience.

  “I told you; part of me needs to have something like a door at the top of the stairs. As for the other half of it, turn around and see for yourself,”

  Gasher turned. Against the wall stood the remaining half of the pew. On one end it rested on its original solid leg, on the other it balanced upon a stack of bricks, piled two-deep for stability.

  “Better than sleeping on the floor, especially when it’s padded out with the stuff we brought up from the vestry.”

  “I wouldn’t even fit on that bench!” Gasher scoffed in disgust.

  “Plenty of room on the floor,” Carson retorted.

  “I for one am looking forward to resting my head on a real cushion for a change,” Bumper interjected, aware that already there was very little love los
t between Carson and Gasher, “What about Lavender? Should we take something up to her?”

  Carson shook his head, “No need. She’s in my room; the best of everything up there. She’ll be cosier than any of the rest of us tonight, I promise you that,”

  “Safer, too,” Gasher added meaningfully, positioning himself on the lower steps of the flight leading up to the belfry and crossing his meaty arms over his broad chest, “This way I can keep an eye on both flights of stairs,”

  Carson raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He turned to Bumper, “So, you want to take the bench? No point offering it to you Rumble; you won’t fit on it any better than Gasher over there.”

  “What about you?” Bumper said.

  “I’m okay with the floor. It’s only for one night, right?”

  “Right. Thanks,” Bumper added.

  One night. They would be on their way in the morning, no question.

  *

  Bumper woke, instantly awake as was his wont these days. He took in his surroundings, remembering where he was and realising that there was no immediate need for any sort of action; no danger present.

  Then what had woken him?

  He sat up stiffly, rubbing his aching back. Rumble was asleep sitting propped up against the pew door, Gasher likewise on his bottom step.

  Carson was also sitting with his back to a wall, knees drawn up, watching him.

  “What time is it?” Bumper asked stupidly.

  “Time? No idea mate, sorry. My watch broke a while back, haven’t bothered to find a replacement. What’s the point? The last thing that seems to matter these days is what the time is,”

  “True but it can still be useful to know,”

  “Do you have a watch?”

  “Not anymore, no. I lost mine,”

  “There you go then,” Carson said, as if that settled the matter.

  “Something woke me,” Bumper said enquiringly. Carson pulled a face.

  “Well unless it was your snoring pal over here,” he motioned towards Gasher, “then I don’t know what. It’s been pretty quiet,”

  “Pretty quiet?”

  “Oh, they’re always out there somewhere, especially at night. If you listen hard you can hear the occasional moan. Not so much screaming anymore; not many of us left to do any screaming,”