Fear the Dead (Book 4) by Jack Lewis

the first real hint of
civilisation in years, so were we really going to turn it down?
     
    “Fine,” I agreed. “Who knows. Maybe
we’ll find Justin out there.”
     
    As soon as I said the words, I felt a
pang of sadness in my chest. I pictured my friend back in the Battle of
Bleakholt. The look of resolve on his face as he told us about his plan. I
remembered watching him walking across the battle field toward the infected.
What had gone through his mind then? Did he think he was going to die?
     
    At hearing Justin’s name, Mel’s face
turned.
     
    “Damn it Kyle, I couldn’t care less
about him.”
     
    Part of me wanted to drop everything,
right there and then, and just go and find Justin. My friend was out there,
somewhere. There were times when I thought about walking away from camp so that
I could search for him, but my responsibilities wouldn't let me.
     
    “What about Billy?” said Lou.
     
    It was a name I hadn’t heard in a
while, and it caught me by surprise.
     
    “What about him?” I said.
     
    “Maybe he’s out there.”
     
    “He’s dead.”
     
    In the battle of Bleakholt, Billy had
driven away on a quad bike with a group of stalkers in tow. The stalkers had
appeared during the middle of the battle, and there was no way we could have
fought them at the same time as the infected. Billy had decided to lead them
away, using himself as bait. I sometimes wondered what happened to him.
     
    I guessed that he drove the quad as
far as he could with the stalkers in tow. Sooner or later the fuel tank had
emptied and the engine had spluttered. The bike slowed to a stop, and Billy
gripped the handlebars tighter, the prospect of his imminent death hanging over
him.
     
    ***
     
    We decided to leave that night. We
could have left it until morning, but we knew that time wasn’t a resource we
had in abundance. After much discussion, the finally group was selected. We
needed a mixture of skills if we were going into the Wilds. Even though I
wasn’t happy with some of the choices, I knew that they were necessary. The
final group was me, Lou, Mel, Charlie, Ben, Reggie and finally, Gregor Horlock.
     
    “No way am I taking him,” I had said,
when Melisa made her suggestion.
     
    “He used to be in the army, Kyle,”
she said. “He’s got useful skills. Don’t just dismiss him because you don’t
like him. The meat might smell bad, but if it tastes okay then you eat it.”
     
    “What the hell does that mean?”
     
    “It’s one of Gregor’s sayings.”
     
    “Jesus.”
     
    Later that night, a mile away from
camp, we walked in silence toward the hills in the horizon. Somewhere east of
us was the Quarryman’ Secret, the pub Kendal and I had passed. To our west were
the Grey Basin woods. The legends of the countryside were silly in the
daylight, but at night the idea of murderous husbands and cannibal tribes was
all too plausible.
     
    I turned and looked at the camp we
had left behind, and I watched a small bonfire flicker against the night sky. I
wondered what I would come back to, if I even came back at all. All I could
wish for was that we would find the helicopter, and return with some kind of
hope.

Chapter
12
     
    “I used to play guitar,” said Lou.
     
    She was sat on a rock that, if you
squinted enough, was in the shape of a hippo. She had taken off her boots and
socks and was massaging her right foot. Her skin was wrinkled. A few hours
earlier she had stood in a puddle that had reached up to her ankle.
     
    “And the first few weeks were a
bitch,” she carried on. “After a while my hands were covered in callouses. I
thought it was bad then, but this is worse. I didn’t think you could get them
on your feet.”
     
    “Jesus. Quit moaning,” said Mel. She
was stood straight, with her shoulders back.
     
    I couldn’t help notice the difference
in the two women. Just a year ago, Mel was inexperienced in the Wilds. Lou made
a point of showing everyone that she was alright on her own