Death After Death (#2)

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Are you ever going to tell me what really went down with this Joey fella?" JJ pried, staring into Max's pain-filled eyes.      

"Someday, kid," Max promised.

"Just not today, aye?"

Max nodded, putting an end to JJ's line of questioning. He wasn't ready to talk about it, not yet, not until Joey was dead in his arms and his daughter had been avenged.

"Whenever you're ready big man," JJ smiled warmly, patting Max on the back.

"So, you said you escaped through the front gate, yeah?" Dawson called from the front of the group.

"Yep, straight through there," Max replied.

"There are plenty of tracks out this way, looks like a large number of people all scampering to leave at the same time," Dawson described, crouching down and analysing the divots and boot marks carved into the dirt.

"You reckon it was the guards or the prisoners?" Max asked.

Dawson pondered over this for a second, "I mean, it's impossible to tell, but I'd hazard a guess at the guards. I somehow doubt that this many prisoners would have been allowed to escape through the front door."

"Good point," Max admitted.

"What exactly is the plan here?" Karl queried. "We follow Bear Grylls here until we find this nutjob friend of yours and then we kill him?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Max agreed.

"Okay, good plan. Just trying to stay in the loop," Karl beamed.

Dawson took one last look at the markings before she hopped back to her feet and glanced towards the main gate. She followed the scuffs and prints towards the exit, constantly scrutinising each mark as she went, as if she could tell a million things from each.

She paused just outside the gate and turned back to the group. "The marks are still clear so we should be able to follow them for a while, just stick close behind me and keep your eyes open f-"

Dawson's speech was cut off as an arm shot through the gap between the two gate doors and wrenched itself around her bicep. Her body was violently tugged back and her back crashed against the metal of the gate, echoing around the new desolate pit. A second hand burst through a hole in the gate, gripping Dawson's opposite shoulder just as tightly.

Karl threw his spear to the ground and leapt forward to tug Dawson free of the clicker's grasp, stabbing at the arm with a knife as he did so, the blade embedding deep into the rotten tissue.

Congealed blood dribbled out of the wound, like toothpaste from a tube, yellowed and infected, but the clicker showed no sign of yielding.

Dawson's back was still planted against the gate, and she was unable to see her undead assailant, as she gritted her teeth and just waited for a bite to clamp down on her neck.

Then there was silence. The clicker arm went limp and Dawson burst free from her undead prison.

"What the fuck was that?" Karl screamed. "It was so fucking strong!"

"It's amazing how strong food can make a starving monster," Dawson panted, rubbing the sore marks on her arms.

"Is no-one else worried about who killed it?" JJ whispered.

"I am now! Whoever took down that thing must be a fucking warrior," Karl cried.

Just as he finished speaking, another hand shot through the gap between the gate doors, and Karl threw himself to the ground, just out of its terrifying grasp.

Then the hand waved, and a soft giggle rang out, carving through the tension and replacing it with confusion as little George's head popped between the gap, followed by Rodney.

"Just us," Rodney grinned, with George still apparently unfazed by the whole situation.

"What?" Karl exclaimed.

"Aren't you lucky a warrior showed up when he did?" Rodney teased.

"Seriously, what?" Karl repeated, his face screwed up in disbelief.