Chapter 2

Sharp and blunt instruments would do to silence this lot. Guns were difficult to come by, ammunition more so in England where armaments had never been a major issue. They raided gun clubs and farms, anywhere that might use weapons whenever they found them, but often others had got there before them. Another reason they used such arsenal sparingly was sound drew the polluted—a term coined and which fitted. Mason didn’t care whether the hapless souls suffered from a disease or the wrath of God. Neither did it matter to him if the devil’s sense of humour was rife in the world—the dead walked. They weretainted. To call them polluted was as fine an expression as any.

“Dead man crawling.” Carter pointed to a scrambling cadaver. Mason took care of it. “Dead woman rolling.” Carter put her down himself.

“Dead man twitching.”

Sorely tempted to tell Carter to shut the hell up, Mason bit hard on his tongue. Carter’s routine grew irritating real fast, though Mason understood the need for such dark humour in this new world, especially while putting the already dead to rest. Carter’s patter still made him shake his head.

To hold the thrashing corpse in place, Mason pressed on the skull with the heel of his boot and swung his axe. The bloke’s neck had already suffered severe damage, and Mason had perfected his swing. One blow and the body no longer twitched.

“Dead man…Shiiiiittt.”

Mason sped over to Carter, who stood beside one of the cages—a trailer designed to hitch to a vehicle for towing. The wheels and undercarriage supported the base high off the ground. Mason moved closer. The floor height lay level with his waist. The bars had faded, flaked green paint. Straw and worse littered the base, punctuated with a couple of bowls, which likely once contained food and water. Where he expected to spot a starved and dying, or dead, animal, there lay an emaciated man.

“I ain’t fucking going in there to silence him.”

“We silence them all.”

Carter shot him a contemptuous look. “He’s caged. He’s not gonna hurt anyone.”

“You have a point.” Still Mason dithered. No way to tell whether zombies retained any awareness; regardless, to leave this one behind, trapped and…hungry seemed cruel.

He’s not my concern.

Inwardly Mason sighed. If this creature wasn’t his problem, it…hewasn’t anyone’s—the same kind of thinking which had been wrong with the world before everything went to hell. He silently gave himself the talk of being unable to save everyone. Fought daily to save himself and nothing made things right. Too much had happened to him, to the entire planet as far as they were aware, ever to compensate. Still, he had to hold together and do his job. What other reason was there to get out of bed each day?

“Nope. Can’t leave him.”

“Well, good luck finding a key.” Carter tugged on a hefty padlock. “We can break this, but…” He didn’t need to say more. Such an act would cause a fair amount of noise. The commotion might be ample enough to draw any remaining zombies from adjacent fields.

“Maybe…” Mason glanced at the axe in his hand, hefted it, and extended the tool between the bars of the cage, trying to reach the prone body. Might manage but the angle meant he likely lacked sufficient force to sever the brain stem. “Something like a spear would do a better job.”

“Sorry. I’m all outta javelins.”

“Smart-arse.”

“Why d’you think they caged one of the polluted like this? Kept it?”

“Fucked if I know.” Why did humans do half the things they did? He had no clue why many picked odd choices now, let alone back when the world made a sort of sense. Neither did he know why so few had learned anything from the world changing. Still, there might be several reasons to use a caged polluted—one being a threat to keep other humans in check—but he didn’t want to give Carter nightmares. For all his rough exterior, Carter was young.

“Poor sod.”

Mason stared at Carter, surprised by the slight quiver in his voice.

“We’re all poor sods. The living and dead alike.” Futile point to make, and Mason had already talked enough for one morning. Tongue tired applied—he didn’t like to converse these days, but he kept forgetting, falling into old habits, acting as if every day was another normal event in his life, although, much as he detested it, severing the heads of walking corpses constituted a usual occurrence these days.

The poor sod in the cage moaned. Carter gulped. “We entice him near to the side, the tip of my sword will do the trick.”

Not a pleasant idea, but…logical. Easiest way would be to sacrifice a few drops of blood. Not relishing the notion, and with thoughts of infection prevailing, Mason called out. “Come on, boy. Come and get the fresh meat, boy.”

“Ewwwwww.” Carter grimaced. The corpse twitched but struggled to rouse itself. Mason and Carter stood staring through the bars, Mason casting his gaze about to make sure they remained safe. They shouldn’t stand here much longer.