Lanherne Chronicles (Book 2): Five More Days With The Dead Read online

  ‘Oh, it doesn’t look too bad out there,’ Imran said, turning back to his travelling companions, ‘Give me a few minutes for a leak and we’ll pack up.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Phil, throwing the supply sack over his shoulder, ‘I’ll go give Delilah a bit of a walk around to warm her muscles up. I’ve already given her some warm mash so she’s got something warm inside her.’

  ‘There’s a bucket in the bathroom three doors down,’ Duncan called after Imran, as he disappeared down the hallway. ‘Oh, there’s an old telephone directory someone’s left hidden down the side of the bath in case you need more than a piss,’ he called after him.

  ‘Thanks.’ Imran waved back, entering the room that had once been a proper bathroom.

  Now the bath, toilet and sink shaped blocks of porcelain only hinted at a once practical use. Unlike Lanherne, the Penhaligans hadn’t had the luxury of a nearby stream or Duncan’s expertise to ensure a constant water supply so these items had become little more than defunct shapes taking up room. What passed for the actual bathroom now was little more than just the commode bucket and a barrel of water.

  ‘Oh, and the hidden directory for toilet paper,’ Imran thought, smiling as he reached gleefully for the thin printed pages. What he wouldn’t give for a proper roll of toilet paper, but as least this was the next best thing.

  Five minutes later, Imran was climbing down the rope ladder from the first floor window to join Duncan and Phil outside.

  ‘Just a few more minutes and she’ll be set to go,’ Phil said, patting Delilah’s neck as she snorted large plumes of fogging breath from her nostrils.

  ‘Well, I’ve checked things out back and from the look of things someone’s been here recently doing a bit of harvesting,’ said Duncan, putting the last of the blankets into the cart. ‘So you never know. Some of them might have not been there when the electricity shot through.’

  ‘Hmm, well let’s hope so,’ Phil added, buckling Delilah into her tack.

  As Imran stood up on the side plate to get into the cart he looked up at the big house that had been their haven for the night. Even in the summer, he thought this would still be a cold and lonely place. An abandoned shell devoid of both life and hope, it would now be forever haunted by the ghosts of its past. It had become little more than a testament as to how fragile life now was. One day, a loving family had lived and blossomed here, the next, their lives taken away in the blink of an eye by the insanity of man, who would then ultimately bring death and loss the corridors of Lanherne. He hoped when they got to the Substation they didn’t find a similar situation there.

  ‘Come on then, let’s get this party started. Toby! In!’ Phil called to the puppy who had been snuffling playfully around in the small snowdrifts.

  ‘We should be there in a few hours, if we’re lucky,’ he continued, pushing Delilah’s reins back through the front slit into the cart.

  ‘Yes, but who or what will we find?’ Imran thought to himself, pulling closed the side hatch and taking up Delilah’s reins again.

  With a flick and a clicking sound from Imran, Delilah began to walk slowly forward along the winding driveway, away from the building the Penhaligans had once called home and on towards the unknown.

  ***

  With the clear cold light of morning coming through the small high window, Liz pushed aside her heavy blankets with a weary sigh. What with missing Imran’s comforting presence beside her and a combination of the cold and the baby kicking for much of the night, she had not had much of a refreshing night’s sleep. Pulling her big baggy jumper down over her hands for warmth, Liz swung her thickly socked feet off the bed and down onto the worn rug that covered the otherwise cold stone floor. Like everyone in the Convent, Liz slept fully clothed, it was simply far too cold not to. Of course, it didn’t help that it was snowing again outside. Lanherne might well have proven to be an impenetrable home in which they could live their lives in relative comfort and safety, but it was damn cold.

  Even though it was early, she could already hear her sister talking in the next cell. From the muffled rise and fall of her voice, Liz could tell she was reading a story to Jimmy and Samantha with whom she now shared a room. Anne had fallen into the role of ‘big sister’ to the two rescued siblings and was relishing her new role of responsibility. Like everyone, Anne had been forced to grow up fast. Childish dependency was simply a thing of the past. Even the youngest of the children would be expected to pull their weight and do whatever they could to help keep their community alive. No matter how small their help, a contribution was expected. Anne had made some of their chores into games for her younger charges. Collecting eggs each morning was transformed into a fun egg hunt, while helping Bryon in the poly-tunnel became a competition as to who could find the most weeds or caterpillars. Liz hated the fact that the Dead had robbed Anne of a proper childhood. Even though she was only eight, she had seen too much death and suffering in her short life. It seemed no sooner had she made room in her small heart for someone, than they were snatched from her by the hands of the Dead. She had lost people she considered friends to the Dead but none of her small ‘family’ until Charlie, that is. It had taken Anne a long time to let go of Charlie finally and even now, Liz would catch her having a quiet cry when she thought no one was looking. Charlie had been the only father figure Anne had ever really known and with Liz and Imran with her, she had been spared the loss that each and every survivor had been forced to endure. However, that had changed and Liz knew Anne now understood the terrible pain that hid behind the eyes of all those she met.

  With her stomach growling for attention, Liz put on her boots. Unable to reach down to tie up her laces, she left them loose, pushed herself slowly up from the bed and wrapped a shawl about her shoulders. As she passed Anne’s room, she gave the door a quick knock.

  ‘Jimmy, Samantha, Anne,’ she whispered, not wanting to wake anyone else that might be asleep. ‘Are you coming down for breakfast?’

  With the sound of the bolt sliding across the frame, the door creaked open a crack.

  ‘We’ll be down in a minute, Aunty Liz,’ Jimmy answered, peeping through the gap. ‘Anne is telling us a story.’

  ‘Oh, okay,’ Liz said, smiling down at the child, ‘Don’t forget to wrap up warm, because it’ll be cold out today.’

  ‘We will,’ came the trio of children’s voice from inside, the door abruptly closing in front of Liz.

  Within seconds, Anne resumed her story, gaining squeals of delight and giggles from her enraptured younger audience. Knowing there would be warm porridge awaiting them in the kitchen, Liz assumed the story would suddenly become a condensed version. Anne had lived too much of her life on a near starvation diet to pass up the opportunity of a full warm belly for long.

  Liz left the children to their story, trusting Anne not to dawdle for too long. There were chores to be done after all. Making her way down to the kitchen and the warmth it promised, her breath lightly fogged in the chill of the stone corridors. Passing one of the tall thin windows by the staircase, Liz looked out over their snow covered home. She could see on the walkway the thickly bundled up figures of Sally and Damian. Damian, as always, found other things to do rather than the watch duty that was meant to be occupying his time. Flapping his arms about and stamping his feet through the layer of snow along the walkway, the one place Damian wasn’t looking was over the wall. At least Sally wasn’t shirking her responsibilities and ignoring the antics of her ‘on again, off again lover’. She seemed to be watching something at the far end of the lane. Motherhood had stripped Sally of her pointless vanity and her attentions were no longer something she used as a commodity to gain favour with men. Now Alex was the centre of her world and just like the wildcat protecting its kittens, she would do anything to make sure he was safe. Truth be told, before Alex, Liz had found Sally to be a bit of a sad person. Sally had been a woman who used her body to ingratiate herself with the men around her so she could gain power by association. Not that she bla
med her for that, you had to get by how you could now and Lanherne was certainly an exception rather than the rule when it came to how women were treated in this new world.

  Taking care not to trip on her bootlaces as she walked, Liz decided she had to ignore the protests of her stomach for a few minutes more, because her bladder simply would not wait. Entering the bathroom that had been put aside for the women, she was pleasantly surprised to see someone, probably one of the sisters, had lit a small fire in the grate to take the chill of the room. Dipping a bucket into a large barrel of water, Liz waddled with it into one of the stalls. Imran would be mad if he saw her doing this on her own.

  ‘needs must’, she thought to herself, placing one foot after another up onto the small steps by the side of the toilet bowl.

  Slowly, she began to lift the bucket up over her head so she could fill the cistern. They had been lucky at Lanherne; she doubted there were many places left that still had working drains. Thanks to Duncan’s monthly trips down into the old Victorian sewers, they had been able to maintain this last bastion of the old civilised world, though Duncan had warned them it might not last much longer. Liz certainly wasn’t looking forward to that day. She had lived in places with open cesspits before and they were far from fun. As the last of the water fell from her bucket, she heard the door opening behind her.

  ‘Busted!’ came Alice’s voice. ‘Just what would Imran say if he heard you’ve been climbing ladders?’

  ‘Ladder?’ Liz asked, smiling as she looked over her shoulder. ‘It’s two steps, Alice.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’ll have to think what you can do for me to buy my silence,’ Alice replied, giving Liz a grin and a wink, as she filled a bucket of her own. ‘Don’t tell Phil.’

  After the two pregnant women had finished, they replaced the now empty buckets on their hooks and left for the porridge that awaited them. They would have a wash later when they had collected some of the warmed water that was perpetually sitting on the range, heating. Walking though the kitchen door, they were met by a wall of warmth. Nicky was helping Sister Rebecca and Sister Claire with the breakfast while Justin helped his father put out the bowls and cutlery. During the cold weather, they always ate in here rather than the roomy refectory. Despite there being a few too many residents at Lanherne to sit comfortably around the large kitchen table, the warmth from the range made up for a bit of squashing. At first, Liz didn’t even notice William slumped in a chair in the corner, dozing. He had been unlucky enough to be on night watch last night and had to cocoon himself in multiple layers of coats and jumpers to keep out the chill night air. Looking now more like a pile of rumpled coats than a man, William began to snore softly.

  ‘Should I wake him, do you think?’ Sister Rebecca asked, looking over from the large pot she was stirring. ‘He’ll only get a sore neck sleeping like that.’

  ‘Bill,’ Richard said, softly shaking the man awake, ‘You have something to eat and get yourself to bed, man. You’re dead on your feet.’

  With a large yawn and a stretch, William stirred himself from his slumber.

  ‘Sorry… was I snoring?’ He asked looking around the room, while he rubbed eyes, ‘I must’ve walked for miles around that walkway last night just to keep warm. Well, at least there was no sign of any of the Dead, so that’s something.’

  ‘And we thank you for your diligence, William,’ Sister Claire said, thrusting a steaming bowl with a spoon into his hands. ‘Now, eat.’

  He didn’t need to be told twice and gratefully began to spoon down the warm meal.

  ‘Got any of that for me?’ Cam asked, walking into the kitchen, combing through his damp hair.

  ‘You know the rules,’ Sister Rebecca said, nodding to the large empty pan on the floor.

  Cam had just used some of the warmed water for a brisk shower so now it was time for him to pump the replacement water for heating. Dropping his comb in his back pocket, Cam moved to the pump that Duncan had rigged up for them at the sink. Via a series of pipes and hosing, they would collect water from the nearby stream without leaving the Convent. Of course, they would double boil the collected water first to kill off any of the bacteria that might be present. Only after it had been boiled twice was it then poured into the large barrel in the corner for storage.

  ‘Looks like we might have a bit of a problem here,’ Cam said, being rewarded with just a thin trickle of water after three pumps of the handle. ‘Perhaps the stream or the pipes are frozen.’

  ‘Well, looks like we’ll be melting snow for water until Duncan comes back and checks it out,’ Sister Rebecca said, looking at the pump as if it was somehow to blame. ‘If you could just refill the pan for now, Cam, that’ll be fine.’

  With a nod, Cam took an empty pan over to the barrel and turning the small spigot tap, began filling the pan with the already boiled twice water for heating.

  ‘We’ve got enough to last us today and tomorrow at least,’ said Cam, pulling aside the barrel cover to check the water level inside.

  ‘Well, if you want, Richard and I can collect snow this morning. It shouldn’t take long to fill the reserve barrel,’ said Nicky to Sister Rebecca.

  ‘Thanks,’ replied the Sister. ‘I was going to say, it would be better if the children didn’t get involved with this. We want clean snow with as little of it that has come in contact with the ground as possible.’

  ‘Skimming off the top layers,’ Richard said, ‘no problem. Justin and Anne can move some of the woodpile into the store after they’ve dealt with the animals instead.’

  Cam lifted the heavy pan over to the large range for heating and received a bowl of thick warm porridge for his efforts.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, taking the bowl and reaching for a jar of deep golden honey.

  With a flurry of activity, Sister Josephine and Penny came into the kitchen with all of the children of Lanherne in tow. Penny was holding Danny in one arm, waving a bright blue ball to get the child’s wandering attention. She was trying to coax the silent child to say ‘ball’ but was having little success.

  ‘Good morning, everyone,’ Sister Josephine said, raising her voice over the chatter of the four talkative children.

  Justin paused in his animated conversation to go over to Nicky quickly, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, as Richard affectionately ruffled his hair.

  As Sister Josephine looked around the now crowded kitchen, she smiled to herself. She knew now that this was why she had been called to serve God all those years ago. His plan had been convoluted and the path had been troubled, but He had seen fit to spare these souls and send them to her door. It warmed her heart that life could still flourish in this world of the Dead and if her only service to Him were to offer sanctuary to those that needed it then she would do so gladly until her days ended and she was called to Him.

  ‘Where’s Alex?’ Liz asked Sister Josephine, noticing the little boy was missing from the gaggle of children.

  ‘Sally has already fed him and dropped him in with Nadine before she relieved Cam and William,’ Sister Josephine replied.

  ‘Oh, right, very efficient,’ Liz said, raising her eyebrows, ‘Motherhood suits somebody alright. Hope I’m going to be that organised when this one comes.’

  ‘Now don’t you worry, you’ll be fine,’ said Nicky. ‘You’ll be a mess, question everything you do and cry a lot, but I’m sure you’ll be fine.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Liz said, taken aback a bit.

  ‘No, what I mean is that’s how it is for every mother with a baby, and don’t worry, we’ll all be here to judge your mothering skills and talk about you behind your back,’ Nicky added jokingly. ‘Sally’s just been lucky. She’s skipped the screaming, poo-ing, not sleeping baby stage and gone straight to fun little boy stage.’

  ‘Oh, that’s alright then,’ said Liz.

  ‘Does Bryon need any help in the Poly tunnels today?’ Liz asked, feeling that her current physical state made her somewhat of a burden on the group.

  ‘No, you
and Alice need to take it easy,’ Nicky said, passing the two women their porridge. ‘We can’t have you falling over on the frozen mud. It’s not worth the risk.’

  ‘We’re pregnant, not invalids,’ said Alice.

  ‘No, Nicky’s right,’ added Sister Josephine. ‘We’ll just have to find you something inside to occupy your time.’

  ‘Well, one of you can help me with preparing dinner for tonight and there’s bread to make too,’ Sister Rebecca said, ticking through the short list of things she felt comfortable asking the pregnant women to do.

  ‘Oh, I’ll help you with that, Sister,’ Alice quickly said, knowing it was this or trying her hand at knitting again and she knew she had neither the skill nor the patience to tackle it with any enthusiasm.

  ‘Traitor,’ whispered Liz, under her breath to her friend.

  ‘I know, why don’t you make an inventory of the clothes store,’ Sister Rebecca continued, ‘It’s been a while since it was last done and you never know you might find some jumpers to unravel or even some baby clothes.’

  An uneasy silence fell upon the kitchen. The clothing store was one of the attic rooms where they kept all of the clothing they had scavenged on their trips. Coats, dresses, trousers, tee shirts, shoes, anything they could find that had been left abandoned in long forgotten wardrobes or drawers. They took every scrap of it. Any clothing they had was going to have to last them a long time, manufacturing fabric without the help of sheep was an impossible task even Duncan couldn’t overcome. Mention of the baby clothes was what set everyone thinking. They would be the clothes of a long dead child, snatched from their mothers and torn apart by Dead hands. By their very presence in the attic, the garments indicated what fate had befallen their brief owners.

  ‘Okay,’ Liz finally said, pouring herself a large mug of rosehip tea. ‘What I’ll do is separate all the children’s clothes from the piles and arrange them in sizes. At least then as the kids grow, we’ll know what we’ve got available for them to grow into.’