James Loscombe: The Bitter End

They made no attempt to hide themselves as they filed through the thick bushes that separated the field from the riverbank. There was no way they would have been able to keep more than a hundred people from being seen.

The air was warm and fetid, dank and sticky. Ben walked

(marched)

beside Daniel just behind the brothers. It was a short journey but long enough for the world to change. He had never been a soldier, had never even played at it as a child, but like it or not he was going to war. After days on the move and with little restful sleep he should have been exhausted but an excitement burned in his chest and he could not deny an eagerness to fire the beautifully crafted crossbow. He wondered if all soldiers felt like this.

The brainwashed villagers clung to the scaffolding around the dam. Most of them did not even look at them as they lined up along the river bank though. One did. They were too far away for Ben to make out a face but, while the others continued their labour, he climbed off and ran in the direction of the palace.

Peter held up a hand and they stopped, waited. If they could get Kirsty and Nicholas to come to them it would be better, fighting them on their own turf would be more difficult but they would do it if they had to.

They waited in silence. The black wings above continued to flap and the tools continued to bang and cut but none of the Resistance spoke. They held their collective breath and they waited.

And they waited.

“They aren’t coming,” said Daniel.

“Give it time,” said Peter without turning to look at him. So they continued to wait.

It got warmer so that it became a chore just to stand up. Ben could feel the sweat on his face and running down the back of his neck. They continued to wait.

Hours seemed to pass. The sky remained black and noisy. Eventually they saw movement at the top of the structure.

A black cloud moved across the surface like a swarm of insects. It hugged the stone structure and changed shape, narrowing to move between objects, rising higher when the dam did. It descended the steps towards them, like a bruise with faces in it. Ben watched it come towards them, a ghostly ghastly shape. He held his ground and he held his breath.

It stopped before them and changed its shape again, becoming tall and narrow and then splitting into two distinct clouds which themselves began to solidify and eventually came out as Nicholas and Kirsty. When they appeared from the cloud they found that they had one hundred sharpened wooden weapons aimed directly at them.

“We haven’t come to fight you,” said Kirsty addressing the crowd.

Ben alternated between her and Nicholas. Her because she was the most dangerous of the pair, him because he didn’t know if he could shoot something that looked like a little girl, even if she was a vamp.

“We want to help you but if you don’t want our help we won’t force you.”

Did she realise they were outnumbered? She had to know that she wasn’t in a position to strike bargains. “Let our people go then,” said Peter.

She smiled. “Your people have chosen this life. They don’t want to go with you.”

“They’re brainwashed,” said Peter. “Either you let them go or we’ll kill you.”

Her smile widened. “And I thought we were supposed to be the monsters. Very well. Here are your people.”

The sounds of construction had stopped. Suddenly every face had turned towards them and one by one they started to move. They climbed down from the scaffolding, some dropping into the water, others simply letting go and dropping from whatever height they happened to be at, landing in piles on the hard ground. Ben could hear bones cracking and breaking. He turned to look and saw the people he had known all of his life shuffling and shambling towards them. He realised they hadn’t just been brainwashed.

“What have you done to them?” he said.

But Kirsty and Nicholas had gone.

He turned to Daniel who seemed to be as surprised as he was. “They’re like zombies or something,” he said, as much to himself as to Ben.

There wasn’t long to think, the one’s who had been closest were reaching them now. Ben remembered the vamps gone wrong at the tower, the way they had responded to Gabriel’s instruction. They had been decomposing as if already dead. Was that what was in store for these people, his friends?

He raised his crossbow and aimed at someone he didn’t recognise. An old man who walked as if he had a broken knee. Ben thought about what he was about to do but it seemed like the only way to be sure; he squeezed the trigger and the wooden bolt shot through the air and imbedded itself in the man’s left shoulder.

The old man stumbled back but didn’t seem to notice the pain. After a moment he kept coming, his face a blank rigour. Ben decided, he had no choice really, that these people were not people at all. They were vamps gone wrong or zombies or whatever you wanted to call them, but they weren’t his friends.

“Aim for the head,” he shouted.

As if they had known it all along but had needed someone else to make it okay they started to fire. The air was filled with the whooshing of deadly wood, flying almost silently through the air. Some of the shots found their targets but most went wide. The zombies kept coming.

Ben fired off a few more arrows and brought down four. He looked around, needed to see where Nicholas and Kirsty had gone, and saw the door to the palace up above closing.

“Dan,” he said.

His friend looked up.

“This way,” he ran towards the stairs. Dan was followed by Kris, Anthony, Joel and his boys. This was all of their fight now.

Up the narrow stairs and along the narrow path at the top. Down below they were winning the fight, or at least beating it into a stalemate that would last until they ran out of bullets and arrows. As long as the kept the zombies away from the camp it would be okay. Once Nicholas and Kirsty were dead they could leave.

They walked towards the door and the two guards stepped together to block it. Without breaking their pace Ben raised his crossbow and put a bolt through one of their heads and Daniel through the other. The two giants fell to the floor and they stepped around them.

There was no time to think now, no time to stop and wonder if this was the right thing to do. Ben realised that they were out of options and they needed to be quick because if the zombies or the vamps got to the camp

(Mary)

then what would be the point. Dying here or dying there without them, it wouldn’t make a difference.

The throne room was empty. It continued to stink of rotting meat, shit and vomit but that smell seemed like victory now. But where were they?

“We need to split up,” he said. “Dan, you go with Joel and Kris. Martin, Alex, you come with me.”

Nobody argued, nobody seemed surprised that he had suddenly taken charge. Perhaps they realised that he had more at stake in this fight than any of them did, perhaps they were just glad the responsibility of deciding what to do wasn’t theirs. Ben didn’t question it, it felt right.

He led Martin and Alex behind the throne. A zombie waited for them there, its arms outstretched ready to grab the first person it saw. For one terrible moment Ben thought that it was his own mum but he put a bullet through its head and when it dropped to the floor he saw that it was another old man. They kept going.

The palace was filled with tunnels that went down into the dam. Narrow spaces that it seemed impossible Nicholas would be able to fit through in his new form. But he was the man who had appeared before them in a cloud of smoke so it seemed reasonable to believe he could fit through any gap. It certainly didn’t rule it out.