Free The Dead Walk The Earth II by Luke Duffy

they decided that they would ‘borrow’ Samantha’s means of transport. Besides, they knew that it would give her an excuse to come and visit them later. There was method in their madness as always.
    By mid-morning, they were approaching the narrow lane that led towards the bluffs on the southern side of the island and their half-built house. Once on the high ground, the refugee camp to the east was clearly visible to the men inside the Land Rover.
    Thousands upon thousands of dirty white tents covered an area of two square kilometres of churned mud and human waste. A high fence topped with razor wire and a deep moat that encompassed the entire perimeter surrounded the camp. Roving patrols and regularly spaced watchtowers with armed guards maintained the integrity of the camp and kept the mass of refugees separated from the rest of the island.
    Columns of wispy smoke drifted up from throughout the camp as the suffering civilians cooked whatever they could find and burned what they had to in order to keep warm during the cool summer nights. A faint murky haze of brown and green hung low in the air above the tented areas, confirming the filthy conditions that existed below and giving no illusions to the state that the remains of the Great British populous now found themselves in.
    It was a pathetic sight and the three men could not help but look on at the human squalor that panned out to their left as they crested the hill and the partially completed roof of their barn came into view. Compared to the refugees, they were living in luxury and for a moment, they remained quiet in shamed contemplation.
    The army and the remains of the government did what they could to supply the civilians with food, clothing, sanitation, and clean drinking water but the sheer numbers of homeless and starving people were against them. Supplies and medical care were stretched to their limits and it would not be long before the crisis reached tipping point.
    “That explains why the head-shed are so keen to get the mainland back. Poor bastards,” Bull muttered.
    “Gerry was saying that there have been quite a few outbreaks down there over the last couple of weeks. Hundreds dead, apparently,” Marty mumbled thoughtfully as he slowed the vehicle and viewed the scene.
    Danny nodded.
    “It’s to be expected. According to the last I heard, there’s almost a million people down there, all packed together like a colony of rats. If one of them dies, it doesn’t matter what killed them, you can bet your arse that three more will quickly follow once they wake up and start munching their way through their friends and family.”
    “Well that’s just put a dampener on my home-coming. I think I’ve lost my appetite,” Bull grumbled as he leaned back into his seat and turned away from the panorama of misery.
    He fell silent and thought for a moment.
    “Actually, no it hasn’t. Hurry up and get us home, Marty.”
    Releasing the handbrake, Marty complied and began slowly inching his way down the muddy track. A dark figure stepped out from behind a clump of bushes and watched them as they passed by and gave a slight nod of his head.
    “Morning, Stan,” Bull shouted with a beaming smile from the rear of the Land Rover as he flung the canvas flap to the side. “Did you miss us?”
    “Yeah, like a boil on the end of my dick.”

 
    5
     
    “Okay,” she said quietly while standing poised by the door at the far end of the dark and unnerving passageway.
    She adjusted her grip on the shaft of the crowbar. It was a good weight, heavy but strangely comforting. She had carried it with her for over four months and time and again it had proven its worth and reliability.
    Looking back over her shoulder at him, she confirmed that he was still there and had not bolted for the door at the other end. She did not need to see him to know he was there, the sound of his heavy mouth breathing was evidence enough that he was standing close by her, but she felt better