Plague Of The Revenants by Edward Chilvers Page A

it.”
“I’m not sure I trust you,” muttered Kit.
“You must trust me more than you think or you wouldn’t have just said that,” I replied cheerfully.
“No, I mean I think you might be using us,” said Kit. “I think you’re in this for yourself, taking advantage of us.”
“Well of course I am,” I told her. “The question is whether or not you can take advantage of me as well.”
“I fucking hate this,” sighed Kit dejectedly. “Fucking army still think they’re in charge when they’ve fucked up to the last.” She laughed bitterly. “And to think how much I hated that job in the bakery. How I miss it now.”
“I miss the football,” said Paul lightly. “It would have been well into the season by now, you know. I had a season ticket for the Rovers. I’d had it every year since I used to go there with my dad as a kid.”
“Did Rovers play in that big stadium in the town?” I asked him.
“Yeah. Have you been there?”
“In a manner of speaking,” I said with a shudder, remembering the mounds of bodies, the revenant attack and afterwards my hellish few days on the roof.
“I miss it all,” sighed Kit. “I miss the phones, the TV, the soaps, the pubs. Just think, we’ll probably never have a good rasher of bacon again. I don’t know how to make bacon from scratch, do you? And I’ve been living in the countryside my whole life.”
“No more steak, no more porridge, no more cornflakes or beer,” agreed Paul wistfully. “Although I dare say we’ll find a ragged old pig to rip apart and devour somewhere down the line.” He turned to me. “What about you, Grant? What do you miss most about the old world?”
This question caught me somewhat. Truth be told my time inside had isolated me from the rest of the world. I shrugged and tried to think up a generic answer. “I miss getting my wage slip once every month,” I said eventually. “I miss going out and getting drunk on a Friday night, going shopping, coming home and putting my feet up. It’s all the normal, boring shit you take for granted and hate until it’s all gone.”
“I hear that,” smiled Paul wistfully. I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
    We were well past the point at which Paul and the others had scavenged and were heading into uncharted territory. Every now and again we would come to abandoned cars blocking the road. We slowed and nudged them out of the way, then after we passed them got out and took what we could. These few cars we came across had already been abandoned but I was aware they might also form tombs for the living dead and so proceeded with caution. We found a couple of rucksacks with a total of five tins between them and some rotten food, but at the same time some batteries and a torch so it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Still not enough to keep the camp sustained. Fortunately these first few cars had their doors open suggesting the occupants fled before they turned.
“If pickings are to be this slim this is hardly worth our time,” said Kit pessimistically.
“Don’t be so sure,” I told her. “You see these cars crashed and smashed up yet on a straight road with nothing to make them crash. This means the drivers were panicking straight away, most likely they took to their cars either straight after they had been bitten or when they first caught whiff of the revenants. Thus they were disorganised and didn’t plan ahead. Those who got their cars on to the highway will have had a better plan, you mark my words.”
“I don’t like that we haven’t seen any revenants yet,” said Kit darkly. “This means they must have pooled themselves into a swarm, most likely along the highway.”
“If that is indeed the case at least we should see and hear them in time,” I said, looking around at the flat countryside and open fields.
“It will mean we won’t be able to loot,” retorted Kit. “And we’ll come home empty handed, which will be worse considering you had us eat all our food