Autumn exodus, p.30
Autumn - Exodus, page 30
‘And I don’t expect you to. I was right. The dead didn’t want to kill us. They’re just adrift, like we are. They just want their suffering to end.’
‘I see it,’ David said, ‘and it makes sense now. In massive numbers, anything they did would always be misinterpreted as aggression, as an attack. But with the rest of the world dead, who else could possibly help them but us? They came to us because they had nowhere else to go.’
52
They cut down two sapling trees and strung jackets between them and made a stretcher to carry Vicky, threading the wood through the sleeves. David had been thinking again about all those they’d lost along the way. ‘Did you know Gary used to be a marathon runner?’
‘What, our Gary with the dodgy knees and ankles?’ Sam said. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘It’s true. When things were getting really shitty, he’d tell me all these running anecdotes to make things seem better.’
‘And did it work?’
‘Sometimes, I guess. Passed the time.’
‘Have you got a nugget of Gary’s wisdom to share with us now then, Dave?’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe. He used to say that no matter how knackered you were, how hard you’d run, when the finish line comes into view, you’ll always somehow find your second wind. All I’m saying is, let’s hope Gary was right because I feel like I’ve just run all the marathons.’
Ruth and Joanne were at the front of the stretcher, David and Sam carrying the back. Selena walked alongside, holding Vicky’s hand. She smiled at Vicky and kept talking to her, but she knew she didn’t have long left. She hoped they’d reach Ledsey Cross in time; it seemed beyond cruel for her not to get to meet Annalise and all the others now. Selena’s stomach was churning with an impossible combination of emotions. Nervous excitement combined with sorrow and dread. They were like oil and water, refusing to mix.
There was only this road, so they knew there’d be no wrong turnings at this late stage. They’d seen a signpost outside Heddlewick that had confirmed it was five miles to Ledsey Cross. The group was largely silent, numb with exhaustion and apprehension. David, keenly able to compartmentalise, was imagining a hot bath and a comfortable bed, though he knew he was shooting high; such things were the absolute height of luxury these days. It was hard to believe they were so close. He could almost hear the water running and the kettle boiling, could almost smell real food cooking. And his stomach began to growl with hunger as he remembered the taste of bacon sandwiches, and optimism surged. He might just... if everything Vicky had told him was true, then the people here could make bread, and he’d seen pigs in the background of the photographs she’d shown them of the farm. Christ. He’d give everything he had for a bacon sandwich. Trouble is, I’ve got nothing left to give.
Sam was wondering how many people would be at Ledsey Cross? In the pictures it looked like there were more than a hundred. Had their numbers increased in the four months since the networks had died, and they’d last been in contact? He hoped they’d have room for a handful more and, in time, that the others from Yaxley might make the journey north too. He looked side-eyed at Joanne and smiled shyly.
Selena was thinking about Kath’s friend Annalise, and how she was going to break it to her that Kath hadn’t made it. She thought Annalise would be upset, but perhaps not surprised. The journey had been an ordeal for even the strongest of them, and though Kath had been tenacious and stubborn as hell, she’d also been old and physically unwell. This world was no place for those who weren’t strong enough to survive. That thought brought her back around to Vicky, and she gave her brittle hand another gentle squeeze. ‘Almost there, Vic,’ she said, and though she couldn’t be completely certain, she thought she felt Vicky squeeze her hand back in response.
The long road was undulating with countless twists and turns, never straight for any decent length. There were climbs and there were more climbs. It was tree-lined in places, and though the group still expected corpses to come at them from out of the shadows, they didn’t. It was a relief. It was a good sign.
They’d lost all track of time. This had been another endless day. Sam wondered if they should have found somewhere to shelter for the night, but they were so close now it seemed more sensible to keep going and, anyway, there wasn’t anywhere suitable. For the sake of a little more effort, they’d be able to spend the night in relative comfort and with other people. It would be good, he thought, to see houses with lights on inside, maybe a streetlamp or two. There was a concern (that he only shared with David, not wanting to cause another round table discussion) that the villagers might have set traps to keep out the dead. David agreed that they needed to watch out. He’d been caught out around Yaxley, after all.
No traps, yet, but there were no lights yet either. The day was drawing to a close and night was setting in. With everything else so dark, they’d expected the village to shine like a beacon. And what about the noise? They were sure they’d have heard the sounds of life in Ledsey Cross from a distance.
Wait.
They were surrounded by buildings now. Were they here?
Dark, empty buildings.
In one house, a corpse clattered against a window in response to their movement outside.
Sam felt nerves twisting his gut. Surely this wasn’t it? They must have taken a wrong turn or just followed the wrong road altogether.
No, we didn’t.
He stopped at the side of the road and lit up a sign with his torch.
WELCOME TO LEDSEY CROSS – PLEASE DRIVE CAREFULLY.
After coming so far, he could now barely bring himself to take another step. They’d reached the village at last, but it was as cold and as lifeless as everywhere else.
53
There was a community centre. They bundled themselves inside to escape the cold of the night and the crushing, almost unbearable disappointment. The building – along with all the other buildings nearby from what they could tell – appeared to be in good repair. All of it was untouched. There were corpses trapped indoors here and there, as there were everywhere. The bulk of the mobile dead, though, had long since drifted away.
‘I don’t understand,’ Selena said, sobbing. She was heartbroken. Disconsolate. ‘But what happened?’
Vicky, who they’d laid on a bed made from cushions and blankets, gestured for her to come closer. Her voice was an exhausted whisper, but the acoustics of this empty, almost church-like place, amplified her words so that everyone could hear. ‘The same thing happened here as happened everywhere else.’
‘But Annalise... Kath spoke to her... She was texting her non-stop.’
Vicky shook her head. ‘I had one phone and Kath had the other. She did have a friend called Annalise who lived here, but all those messages were from me. She put my number in her phone as Annalise, and we talked and talked for as long as we could.’
‘But the photos?’
‘I edited them on her phone. Made copies and changed the dates so it looked like they were taken after they actually were, after everyone had died.’
Selena could hardly speak. Tears were streaming down her face. ‘You lied to me.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. It was the only way.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘It’s true. Without Ledsey Cross, you’d have given up a long time ago. We all would. We all needed something to aim for.’
‘So many of us died getting here, and it was all just bullshit!’
Vicky tried to sit up, every movement now an effort. ‘Not all of it. This place is just as good as Kath said, that wasn’t a lie. It is self-sufficient. It is isolated. There’s farmland and plenty of natural resources. It’s perfect for all of you. You can make new lives here. There’s everything and everyone you need.’
Other than Vicky’s rasping voice, there was absolute silence now. Everyone was gathered around her in the shelter and warmth of what did appear to be a strong and comfortable building. She looked from face to face to face and smiled.
‘The fact you got here shows you’ve all got what it takes to survive. Hundreds didn’t make it. You’ll do well here. When you’re ready, go back and get the others.’
Ruth rested a hand on Vicky’s shoulder, sensing her getting tired. ‘Take it easy, love. We can talk again in the morning.’
Vicky shook her head. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said, and she lay back down. ‘Don’t be upset. We did it. I was never trying to get to Ledsey Cross for the people, I just wanted to get the people to Ledsey Cross.’
54
DAY ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-TWO
By the morning, Vicky had slipped away, lost in her sleep. As the sun rose, David and Sam stood in the centre of Ledsey Cross and looked around the silent village. ‘For what it’s worth,’ Sam said, ‘I think she was right. With a bit of work, this place could be as good as we imagined. We’ll have a look at the solar panels later, see if we can get some lights working. I reckon the water supply is salvageable too. I’m no plumber, but between us we should be able to reverse engineer it or something.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ David said. ‘We can carry buckets from a stream if it comes to it. From memory, Vicky said something about there being a lake not far. Fancy a spot of fishing?’
‘Never thought I’d hear myself say this, Dave, but yeah, I do.’
‘Marcus says he’ll have a look around the farmland. He’s no expert, but he’s got more experience than the rest of us combined. He was talking about hunting for livestock. There’s got to be some cattle, sheep, or pigs that have survived somewhere.’
‘I was thinking along the same lines, actually.’
‘Great minds, and all that,’ David said.
Sam paused. He watched his friend as he studied their surroundings. He sensed his mind racing at the same speed as his own, considering all the possibilities, probabilities, and potential complications they were likely to encounter. ‘So, how long are you staying for?’ he asked.
David looked confused. ‘What?’
‘It’s just that as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always said you’ll keep going until you get back home to Ireland and find out what happened to your family.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. I know what happened to them – same as what happened to everybody else. No, Sam, the only family I’ve got left is here. This is my home now.’
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A pioneer of independent publishing, David Moody first released Hater in 2006, and without an agent, succeeded in selling the film rights for the novel to Mark Johnson (producer, Breaking Bad) and Guillermo Del Toro (director, The Shape of Water, Pan’s Labyrinth). Moody’s seminal zombie novel Autumn was made into an (admittedly terrible) movie starring Dexter Fletcher and David Carradine. He has an unhealthy fascination with the end of the world and likes to write books about ordinary folks going through absolute hell. The publication of a second trilogy of Hater stories and more Autumn novels have cemented his reputation as a writer of suspense-laced SF/ horror, and “farther out” genre books of all description.
Find out more about his work at:
www.davidmoody.net and www.infectedbooks.co.uk
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“A head-spinning thrill ride, a cautionary tale about the most salient emotion of the 21st century… Hater will haunt you long after you read the last page…” ―Guillermo del Toro on Hater
“Moody is as imaginative as Barker, as compulsory as King, and as addictive as Palahniuk.” —Scream the Horror Magazine
“Moody has the power to make the most mundane and ordinary characters interesting and believable, and is reminiscent of Stephen King at his finest.” —Shadowlocked
“British horror at its absolute best.” —Starburst
THE AUTUMN SERIES
In less than twenty-four hours a vicious and virulent disease destroys virtually all of the population. Billions are killed. Thousands die every second.
There are no symptoms and no warnings. Within moments of infection each victim suffers a violent and agonizing death. Only a handful of survivors remain. By the end of the first day those survivors wish they were dead.
Then the disease strikes again, and all hell breaks loose. The dead are walking, and the living must adapt or die.
Are we entering mankind's final days? In the aftermath of the disease, will the last survivors destroy each other, or will the dead destroy them all?
“Takes the genre in a fascinating new direction. If John Wyndham was alive and writing zombie novels, they’d read like this” —JONATHAN MABERRY, best-selling author of Patient Zero and Rot & Ruin
AUTUMN
AUTUMN: THE CITY
AUTUMN: PURIFICATION
AUTUMN: DISINTEGRATION
AUTUMN: AFTERMATH
AUTUMN: THE HUMAN CONDITION
THE HATER SERIES
REMAIN CALM
DO NOT PANIC
TAKE SHELTER
WAIT FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS
THE SITUATION IS UNDER CONTROL
Society is rocked by a sudden increase in the number of violent assaults on individuals. Christened ‘Haters’ by the media, the attackers strike without warning, killing all who cross their path. The assaults are brutal, remorseless and extreme: within seconds, normally rational, self-controlled people become frenzied, vicious killers. There are no apparent links as a hundred random attacks become a thousand, then hundreds of thousands. Everyone, irrespective of gender, age, race or any other difference, has the potential to become a victim - or a Hater. People are afraid to go to work, afraid to leave their homes and, increasingly, afraid that at any moment their friends, even their closest family, could turn on them with ultra violent intent.
ATTACK FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER
HATE OR BE HATER
KILL OR BE KILLED
“A head-spinning thrill ride, a cautionary tale about the most salient emotion of the 21st century... HATER will haunt you long after you read the last page…" ―GUILLERMO DEL TORO, Oscar winning director of The Shape of Water and Pan’s Labyrinth.
THE ORIGINAL TRILOGY
HATER • DOG BLOOD • THEM OR US
THE FINAL WAR (THE SECOND HATER TRILOGY)
ONE OF US WILL BE DEAD BY MORNING • ALL ROADS END HERE • CHOKEHOLD
STRANGERS
Either there’s a serial killer loose in Thussock, or something far worse…
A spate of brutal murders occurs in and around the small town of Thussock. The bodies of the dead – savagely mutilated, unspeakably defiled – are piling up with terrifying speed. There are no apparent motives and no obvious connections between the victims, but the killings only began when Scott Griffiths and his family arrived in town...
“STRANGERS is easily Moody's best work to date, a dark, disturbing and visceral book that gives him a legitimate claim to the title of Britain's Best Living Horror Author” —THIS IS HORROR
STRAIGHT TO YOU
The sun is dying. The temperature around the world is rising by the hour with no sign of any respite. At this rate the planet will soon become uninhabitable; all life extinguished. It might be weeks away, it might be days… we may only have hours remaining. Society is crumbling. The burning world is descending into chaos.
Steven Johnson’s wife is hundreds of miles away and all that matters is reaching her before the end. He has to act now, no time to stop and think. Every second is precious. Tomorrow is too late.
“STRAIGHT TO YOU deserves to be ranked alongside such classics as THE STAND and SWAN SONG.” —GINGER NUTS OF HORROR
TRUST
A world brought up on stories of alien invasions and wars with other planets is asked to open its arms to 300 aliens who are stranded in their crippled mining ship. The eyes of the entire world are focused on the village of Thatcham: the site of the first confirmed contact with an alien species.
But not everyone is convinced. Some people are more cautious. Tom Winter knows that if he's right about the aliens, more than seven billion others are wrong.
“TRUST is a slow-burner and all the richer for it. The layers of characters and details of the story play out perfectly when matched with an ending you're not likely to forget. It's an outstanding novel, delivers in more ways than one, and is worthy of a place on the discerning fan's bookshelf. 10/10” —STARBURST MAGAZINE
THE LAST BIG THING
In the spirit of The Twilight Zone and Tales of the Unexpected, cult author David Moody presents eleven stories about life, death and everything in between (and after).
From the never-ending nightmare of domestic bliss to the search for the ultimate body modification, from warring families to warring nations, from the last minutes before doomsday to the polluted shores of the post-post-apocalypse, THE LAST BIG THING highlights how thin the line between the ordinary and extraordinary can be.
“THE LAST BIG THING is a deeply impressive and highly accomplished set of short story Horror fiction, and firmly cements Moody’s reputation as one of the masters of British Horror writing.”—SCIFI AND FANTASY REVIEWER
