Devouring The Dead (Book 2): Nemesis by Russ Watts

hidden.) He would leave the door ajar and call out, just so one of the dead, not many, would come. His father would see they weren’t safe. Then they would have to leave. Yes, first thing in the morning.
    Jimmy lay there dreaming of his plans and scheming, whilst his father drank another six bottles of cider alone at the kitchen table, wondering how he was going to be able to keep protecting his son in these conditions. Later, before David fell into his bed, he prayed for his son.
    The wind whirled around the house as the storm intensified. By sunrise father and son would be separated, and one of them would be dead.
    * * * *
    Tim carefully laid the headphones down on the desk and stood up slowly. He didn’t want to risk losing the frequency he found. If he lost contact, he knew what Lazarus would do to him. He also knew that he had to report this straight away, never mind that it was approaching midnight.
    He had scribbled down a few notes , but he remembered most of the conversation he heard. He couldn’t believe it. Finally, after hours of listening to nothing but static, he chanced upon it, the transmitter picking up some garbled conversation. With a bit of fine tuning, Tim had managed to hone in on it and heard the conversation perfectly clearly. Tim was under no illusions as to its importance. He had to tell Lazarus about it, right now.
    He opened the door and immediately the raindrops slapped into his face like ice cold pins. He closed the door and began the trudge up the hill toward the castle. The houses were dark and quiet . Everyone would be asleep now. He knew someone would be watching him though. There was always someone on watch at the castle.
    Tim picked his way carefully up the steep slope, not wanting to fall down and twist an ankle on the rocks, or worse still, break his neck. If he was right, then Lazarus would be pleased. Maybe he would be allowed some entertainment instead of being stuck in a cold damp house all day and night listening to a sodding radio.
    Tim tripped on a wet rock and fell into the mud. He held onto the hillside, clutching clumps of grass as the howling wind tore at him. The rain pelted his face and dribbled down his neck. He got up and walked faster to the castle, as eager to be out of the storm as to be standing before Lazarus with some good news.
    When he reached the castle door, one of Lazarus’ henchmen let him in, a stout surly man by the name of Honok. He had been a labourer before the infection. Now he was a sort of bodyguard, entrusted with the keys to the castle, literally. Honok disliked Tim, thinking he was weak and cowardly.
    “What do you want, Timmy , you should be working,” asked Honok curtly.
    Tim shook himself dry in the grand entrance, shedding his sodden jumper and using it to dry his face and hair. “Need to see Lazarus. Now. Important news. Very important.” Tim spoke in quick short sentences, practically hopping from foot to foot so keen was he to see Lazarus before he forgot the radio conversation.
    Honok raised one eyebrow. “At this time of night? I think it’ll wait, don’t you? Get back to work.” He folded his arms and stood before the main stairway that Tim knew led up to Lazarus’ room.
    Tim took a step toward Honok. “I said it’s important . Do you think I don’t know what’ll happen to me if I disturb him and it’s not. Let me up there or face Lazarus in the morning. Your call.”
    Honk thought for a moment, and then stood aside. “Fine.” He cracked his hairy knuckles. “I’ll be waiting down here for you, Timmy .”
    Tim bounded up the stairs two at a time and raced toward Lazarus’ room. He almost burst straight in, but then thought better of it and knocked on the door. He waited a moment then knocked again. He heard grunting sounds inside and began to doubt himself. Perhaps he should’ve waited until morning. Waking his boss up in the middle of the night wasn’t the best idea he had lately. Before he could slink away, the door