Free Plague Of The Revenants by Edward Chilvers Page A

lost during the plague hundreds of years ago. Only a few scattered farmhouses remain.”
“Where have you raided?”
“Houses and farms,” replied Thorpe.
“Yeah? Sounds like a risky business, as I saw for myself today.”
“It is,” replied the Reverend. “But where else is there to look?”
“Look in the abandoned cars, look on the road,” I told him. “Most people will have gathered up what tins and provisions they could and left. Search the smashed up cars and you should find all you need. I’ve got a few ideas on that score. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow just before we set out. How far afield have you travelled?”
Not far,” replied Thorpe. “Just this village mostly. “We’ve got Hammond up on the tower most days keeping an eye out for swarms and we only go where he says it’s safe. Of course he can’t see most of the houses which is where a great deal of our problems come from.”
“You need more people,” I told him. “Or else you can’t afford to lose anymore. The scavengers are the most important but there are some people here who can’t scavenge.”
“Found anymore survivors?”
Thorpe shook his head. “Believe me we’ve been keeping an eye out for survivors but there are none,” said Thorpe. “Everybody seems to have fled. That’s why I was hoping they were alive somewhere, in some sort of secure commune.”
“More like eaten alive in their own cars as they sat in the traffic jams,” I muttered grimly. “You did the right thing staying put where you were.”
Thorpe shuddered. “I’d better let you get off if you’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow,” he said. “There’s lots of blankets. You can sleep in the chancel with the others.”
“This clock room? Anybody sleep here?”
“Of course not,” replied Reverend Thorpe in bemusement. “It’s even colder in that tower than down here as you can see. I can’t see why anybody would…”
“I’ll take it.”
The Reverend nodded. “I understand why you want to be on your own,” he said. “I suppose you’ve lost family?”
“Probably,” I replied with a shrug. “Can’t say we were ever really that close.”
“No wife? Kids?”
“Fortunately not.” I said it in a way that did not advice further discussion and thankfully Reverend Thorpe got the hint. We made awkward small talk for a few more minutes before he made his excuses and left.
    I went downstairs and found myself a blanket and a camping map, of which there was an abundance, then went back upstairs too the clock room, away from the rest. I wanted to be on my own for a while, was tired of being stared at like some exotic zoo exhibit. A wind up radio was tossed, forgotten, into the corner. I picked it up, lay down on the mat, pulled the blanket over me without taking my shoes off and wound the radio up, turned the dial through the various frequencies. There were no live broadcasts. There was one message playing over and over on one frequency; an officious sounding voice promising that help was forthcoming and that updates would be broadcast on this channel every day, only the date given was over a week ago. I imagined this signalled the death knell of the government. I should move on, I thought to myself, these people could offer me nothing here. They looked towards me for a leadership I was hardly willing to provide, although for some reason I had sort of provided it. Why was that? Was it simply a sense of self-preservation? Because I was tired of running and hiding and was looking for some stability? If they didn’t change their ways I imagined they would all be dead within a month, and yet they had everything going for them in a secure place of refuge in the middle of nowhere. I decided right there and then that I would stay, for better or for worse. I was not the same man as when I first went into prison all those years ago. The years had broken me, beaten me down and for a long time I had harboured no hope. Now, with the