Lanherne Chronicles (Prequel): To Escape the Dead by Stephen Charlick

grounds and sheds and then later we’ll say goodbye to Vincenzo properly.’
    Given the opportunity they would always give those who had been taken by the Dead the respect their passing demanded. They would build a pyre for Vincenzo’s body and through fire, return his body to the earth.
    ***
    ‘So where are we going to go?’ asked David, passing a bowl of steaming stew along to Cam.
    Cam took the bowl and placed it in front of Carmella. Sat between Sally and Tom, she silently allowed her grief to consume her, completely unaware of the nourishing food now in front of her.
    ‘Carmella, you must eat something…,’ said Cam, his voice full of concern for the pregnant woman as he lightly squeezed her shoulder, ‘Please… for the baby…’
    Looking from the bowl to Carmella’s catatonic like expression, Sally surprisingly picked up the spoon and dipping it in the stew, lifted a spoonful to Carmella’s mouth.
    ‘Come on,’ she whispered, forcing the spoon between unmoving lips. ‘There you go… and now just a few more….’
    Wiping a dribble of stew from Carmella’s bruised chin, Sally caught the others looking at her.
    ‘What?’ she said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Anyone would think I’m a complete heartless bitch?’
    ‘Not a complete one…No,’ said Phil, giving Sally a wink.
    They had spent the morning removing every edible item from the kitchen stores, filling old plastic bottles with pre-boiled water and digging up whatever vegetables had reached a harvestable size from the grounds. Tom had also found one of the Institute’s horses dead in the small side building that had been converted into a stable. The beast, tethered to its post while the fire raged, must have suffered a slow traumatic death but its passing would not go to waste. Phil, falling back on his old skills, had already butchered much of the meat from the carcass, some of which Michael and Paul were still cooking.
    ‘What about this?’ said Tyrone, his finger marking an advert in the open Yellow Pages in front of him.
    ‘Smithson & Sons’ salvage yard,’ he continued, spinning the directory round for Charlie to see. ‘It’ll have a good strong fence surrounding a large area…’
    Charlie took note of the address in the advert and then checked it against one of the large battered maps spread out before him.
    ‘Sorry, too close to a town,’ he replied, shaking his head, ‘and too near the motorway. High concentration of the Dead aside, it’ll be hell trying to get the carts past all that mangled traffic…’
    ‘Shit,’ mumbled Tyrone, pulling the Yellow Pages back.
    ‘We need somewhere out of the way,’ said Liz, keeping an eye on Anne as she messily spooned chunks of the rabbit stew into her mouth, ‘somewhere with high walls and set far enough away from any major town that we won’t run the risk of being overrun by the Dead.’
    ‘Is there anything listed under ‘The National Trust’?’ suggested Cam. ‘Some of those big old houses usually have walled grounds like here.’
    ‘Erm…’ Tyrone mused, flipping the pages back and forth.
    ‘What about a school?’ said Fran, suddenly remembering something she had heard. ‘A private boarding school where there are already other survivors?’
    ‘That’d be perfect,’ said Charlie, ‘especially if there are other survivors. Where is it? What’s it called?’
    Fran’s mouth fell open, suddenly realising she didn’t know. Chewing her lip in concentration she pushed up the sleeves of the large jacket she had claimed, along with a pair of jeans and some boots, from one of the Dead to clothe herself.
    ‘Shit!... I don’t remember… how can I not remember what it was called?’ she replied, frantically tapping her knuckles against her head as she desperately tried to recall any detail that would help her remember.
    ‘Well that’s useful!’ said Sally, sniffing her disapproval.
    ‘And there she is, the Sally we know and love,’ chuckled Phil, pushing himself away