Lost Worlds (my sci-fi short collection)

Black Death (Part 3)

Hal Fletcher peered over the edge of the battlements, into the black moat below. It was evening, that time of night when the sun had sunk below the horizon but night had yet to fall. He fingered the crossbow in the sling behind his back without thinking, he hoped he wouldn't need it but he had a feeling the attack was going to come tonight.

It had been three years since he and Sally had left Beescombe behind. Beescombe had been the first place he knew of that had suffered from the plague but it certainly hadn't been the last. He gave a wry grimace as he remember poor old Bert blaming 'demons' for the walking dead, now of course everyone knew it was a plague, a virus carried by rats.

Mind you, he had been spot on in his method of terminating the infected creatures. Destroy the brain. Burn the remains. It was that simple but he was constantly amazed at how many people tried something else, and then were utterly surprised when the supposedly dead creature rose up to attack them. He made it his job, his vocation even, to travel from town to town, village to village, training guards and armsmen, spreading the word. Gradually he had built up a reputation as the best plague fighter in the kingdom.

But it had been a very long and hard three years. Some people said a quarter of the population had succumbed, others claimed it was more like half. At least King George had, finally, made the decision to ask for help.

Avalon was an interdicted planet. That meant no outsiders were allowed access and conversely no-one on Avalon could ever leave. That was the way their ancestors had wanted it. Sick of constantly changing technology, they had chosen to build a culture where people got back to basics, made their own clothes, grew their own food and lived a simpler and hopefully happier life. But three years of plague had changed things. The Council of Lords and Ladies had reluctantly decided that Avalon needed outside help, help from that technology their ancestors had foresworn.

To date though, as far as Hal could see, the help hadn't amounted to much. Presumably scientists were working busily in some laboratory somewhere off world developing a vaccine, but the only actual help he had seen were a few volunteer soldiers, men who liked to fight, who thought it would be a thrill to pit themselves against zombies. Hal had not been impressed with any of the ones he'd met so far. Unsurprisingly, they were all used to top of the line, high tech weapons and none of them had any experience with medieval swords and bows.

One of these volunteer soldiers was on the battlements with him now, in fact. Earlier that afternoon there had been a couple of the creatures on the far edge of the moat, watching them. Hal had lined up his crossbow ready to take them down. It had almost been comical to witness the look of dismay on Mitch Conaway's face when he had handed him another bow.

"Watch me, and then give it your best shot," he had told him.

Mitch had looked from the bow hanging awkwardly in his large hands to the monster on the other side of the moat and exclaimed, "You motherfuckers are crazy! Look at that big motherfucker, got a rocket launcher!?"

Hal had smiled grimly, he had scarcely understood a word the stranger had said but he got the gist of it. "Welcome to Avalon,' he replied.

They, and Sir Godfrey's men-at arms, had been at the castle for the last couple of days, patrolling every hour in shifts. Today was the first time they had seen any of the creatures. Hal cast a quick glance along the battlements, checking that every man was at his post, weapon handy. These men were well trained for once, unlike some he had been put in charge of, but no training in the world was going to prepare them for what was about to happen. He looked down again, his blue-green eyes narrowing to make the most of the remaining light.

There! The first sign. Ripple in still water, when there is no pebble tossed, nor wind to blow. He murmured the words to himself like a mantra. Vee shaped ripples, fanning across the still water, one, two, then three.