Linda's Story

By Alan Berkshire

After tending to Adam Blake's life-threatening wounds, all the "Family" can do is wait...

It is the waiting that is hardest for Linda Stephens. She and Adam had found something special-had fought long and hard in a hostile, dying world despite incredible odds. And now, just when they thought they had found happ

• Language: English
• Publisher: 4 Horsemen Publications
• Release date: Aug 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9781644508695

Alan Berkshire

Originally from London, United Kingdom, now settled in Texas, U.S.A. A wanderer, writer, artist, Pagan. A child that never grew up, (and never will)My two mainstays in life that keep me sane and supposedly grounded are my son, Nick, and my wife, Maria Elena. They make life worthwhile.My other great loves are the outdoors, reading, movies and superheroes.Forever young.

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PROLOGUE

SICKBED

I had no idea the bastard was there till he came bowling through us like an express train, scattering us like ninepins. But then, it wasn’t after any of us. It wanted Adam, who stood thirty yards away with his back to us at the edge of the cliff. Using a slanted rock jutting up from the hard ground, the Creep launched itself into space, its long, hairy arms raised high over its bullet head. Straight off, I saw it was missing the right claw. Shock slammed into me; it couldn’t be possible! That was weeks ago and five hundred miles away on Queen Elizabeth the Second Bridge. But there was no mistaking the unique markings on its filthy hide, the black lightning bolt across its powerful chest.

Just at that moment, Adam chose to turn around, probably warned by some innate sixth sense, or maybe just dumb luck. His arm came up protectively as the monster dropped out of the sky, taking them both to the ground in a whirling and thrashing of limbs, its jaws clamped onto Adam’s forearm. His scream reverberated around the low Scottish foothills as they struggled on the ground. I watched helplessly as Adam struggled with the monster, who was beating on him mercilessly.

With a titanic effort, Adam threw the beast from him, and they rolled apart. His arm was bloody and mangled, hanging limply at his side, blood cascaded onto the ground. Grunting, he eased the injured limb into the front of his shirt before drawing his knife, holding it awkwardly in his right hand.

Come on then, you-son-of-a-bitch, come and get it…

Adam’s voice was shaky as he faced the Creep. Breaking out of my stupor, I screamed at him to drop to the ground; my Glock appeared magically in my hand. Whether he heard or not, I couldn’t tell as he swayed drunkenly on wide-braced legs, the knife held low. With shocking speed, the Creep was on him. The knife slashed once, twice, then Adam screamed as the brute sank its teeth into his right shoulder, biting deep.

They fell back, the Creep on top, raking and pounding on the helpless man pinned beneath. Grabbing a handful of hair, the beast wrenched Adam’s head back, baring his throat. The red-stained mouth gaped wide; vicious teeth glinted, dripping blood and poisonous saliva.

I couldn’t get a shot! They were twisting and turning too close together. The beast glared insanely, fixated on Adam’s exposed throat. With a blood-curdling scream, Adam lunged, twisting up and over, the knife punching outwards. They rolled, struggling, slashing, and with horror, I watched as they tumbled over the edge of the cliff.

Visions of the cruel, sharp rocks at the base of the cliff loomed dark in my mind.

Adam!

My scream shattered the air as I rushed forward, but Charlie was quicker. We both skidded to a stop on our knees at the cliff’s edge, not wanting to look but knowing we must. Ten feet below on a wide ledge slumped two bodies, the Creep, on its back lying beneath, Adam spread-eagled on top, both unmoving.

Without hesitation, Charlie swung over the edge and scrabbled down. The ledge was barely large enough to accommodate all three of them as Charlie gingerly picked his way beside them, gently easing Adam’s body back against the cliff face. The Creep was motionless, its red eyes glazed over in the vacancy of death. Two horrendous wounds lacerated its chest and abdomen like a cross. Adam’s knife resided in its throat.

With a grunt, Charlie braced himself against the cliff wall and, using his feet and legs, heaved the bloody carcass off the ledge, sending it tumbling down to the unforgiving rocks twenty-five feet below. Then, gently, he laid Adam out on his back. Stripping off his belt, Charlie strapped it around Adam’s upper arm and cinched it tight, pulling it as hard as he could. Desperately he looked left and right, then upwards; there was no way he was going to be able to lift Adam off the ledge unaided.

Get me a rope! he yelled. And Sally, get Sally!

I’ll get her, said Terry Moore, and he was off like a whippet down the slope back to the farm.

Sprinting down to the foot of the hill to where my motorbike was parked, I got a coil of nylon rope from the pannier. Panting with the exertion, I rushed back and threw one end down to Charlie, who deftly tied it around Adam’s chest. Sean, Julie, and I took up the slack.

Easy, easy, pull him up! directed Charlie.

Sean took the weight as Julie and I eased Adam’s limp body over the lip of the cliff. Even through all the blood and dirt, I could see he was deathly pale. Charlie had done a good job on his arm, but his shoulder was bleeding profusely and there was a nasty gash on his head. Blood was everywhere.

Shouldn’t we get him back? Julie, Charlie’s wife, said, worry darkening her eyes.

I don’t think he’d make it, said Charlie, kneeling beside me. Sweet Jesus, look at his arm…

The forearm was totally mangled; at least a third of the tissue was gone, maybe more, and the bones were splintered, the tendons torn. If Charlie hadn’t applied the tourniquet, I think Adam would have been dead already.

A rush of movement behind me made me turn. I sighed with relief as Sally came trotting up, Terry close behind carrying a large black hold-all. Several of the others appeared. Sally’s eyes widened briefly as she knelt beside Adam. I saw her jaw tighten as she examined the terrible injuries. Then, with a small shake of her head, she set to work. Packing the shoulder wound, Sally bandaged it criss-cross fashion, then she made a sling and bound Adam’s arm tightly to his chest. Another dressing swathed his head.

We need to get him back as soon and as carefully as possible, said Sally. He lost a lot of blood, and we can’t allow him to go into shock.

How the hell are we going to carry him without causing further harm? asked Charlie.

Here, said Sean McCormick, stepping forward.

He was a big, buff Irishman, as tough as nails, which was appropriate, seeing as he was a builder by trade. Going down on one knee, Sean eased his huge hands beneath Adam’s inert body and then, as easily as lifting a new-born babe, and just as tenderly, he rose in one fluid movement, cradling Adam gently in his massive arms.

One

The next few hours were a blur, a living nightmare. Tom Taylor and Charlie took Adam’s unconscious body from Sean after the big Irishman had carried him down from the cliff. Our cottage door was small, too small for Sean to negotiate with Adam in his arms. Julie pulled the blankets off the bed, and they laid Adam on the sheet. My heart clenched; beneath all the blood and dirt, he looked like death warmed up. Tom and Charlie stepped away and Sally took over.

Hot water, towels, she barked, unwrapping the blood-soaked bandages from Adam’s shoulder.

Natalie Nat Morrison rushed to fetch them.

Maureen McCormick was on the other side of the bed, efficiently cutting away the bloody clothes from Adam’s limp body with a pair of sharp scissors, revealing horrific bruising across his shoulders and chest. A trail of deep scratches lacerated his neck.

Charlie, Sally said over her shoulder, nodding towards the door crowded with concerned people anxiously watching as Adam was tended.

Sure, Sally, Charlie said, worry written all over his face. Come on, folks; let them work, he said, ushering Terry Moore, Teresa Wright, and the rest of our family from the door.

Reluctantly, they all slowly left, everyone fearing for Adam. Teresa’s face was wet with tears.

And Charlie, Julie said. Go change.

Charlie looked at his wife in surprise, then looked down at his blood-soaked clothes.

Oh, he said, and left the room.

Sally…? I said, tightness squeezing my chest.

She glanced up at me. I don’t know, Linda, he’s lost a lot of blood. The head and shoulder wounds aren’t too bad, looks worse than it actually is. But his arm…

Sally left the sentence unfinished as she cleaned the vicious bite on his shoulder. The water in the bowl turned instantly red as she rinsed the cloth. Nat quickly replaced it as Sally began suturing the shoulder. The head wound was, as Sally said, looking worse than it actually was, but it still needed stitching. Once finished, she turned her attention to Adam’s forearm.

The Creep had torn flesh from the forearm, broken the ulna, and damaged the tendons. Luckily, none of the muscles had been severed. The left wrist was also broken. God alone knew what other damage there might be.

This is hopeless, said Sally. I can’t stop the bleeding.

What can we do? Maureen asked.

I need to cauterise the bleed, answered Sally. But I have no way to do it. There’s too many and they’re too small to stitch.

Sean quickly left the room, returning a few minutes later.

Will this help? he asked, offering Sally a colourful blister pack. It’s new, never been used.

A soldering iron? Sally wondered.

Sean shrugged. What have we got to lose?

He quickly ripped off the packaging, plugged the device into the wall socket, and handed the iron to his wife, waiting for it to heat up. I closed my eyes in silent thanks to Alan Holden and Jeff Shepherd, our scavengers. Barely four days ago, they had found a large generator at an abandoned farm across the valley. Tom Taylor had used it to wire the last three cottages of our newfound home with electricity. Otherwise, we would have had to move Adam to another house.

This is crazy, Sally said, taking the hot iron. I was a hospital theatre nurse, not an electrician!

Grimly she set to work, her shoulders hunched. The smell of burning flesh filled the room to the accompaniment of a low hissing as heat touched wet. I began to feel some relief as I noticed Sally’s shoulders beginning to relax as she worked. The bleeding slowed and then stopped.

Well, I’ll be buggered, Sally said, wiping perspiration from her forehead with her forearm. That’s a first, she said shakily.

Maureen took the soldering iron as Sally began to stitch the horrendous wound before setting the broken bones. By the time she had finished, the arm looked like a grim parody of Baron Frankenstein’s work. The arm was splinted and bandaged before Sally stitched the lacerations across Adam’s chest and stomach.

Finally, she sat back into the armchair, her lower lip trembling, her hands shaking. Suddenly she burst into tears, burying her face in her hands, oblivious of the blood. I quickly knelt beside her and took her into my arms. She clung to me desperately.

Oh Linda, Linda. She sobbed. I’m so sorry. I just hope it’s enough…

It’s okay, Sally, you did just fine, and no one could have done more. We all know that, and when he wakes up, Adam will tell you the same. My own tears threatened.

Sally shook herself, clearing her throat.

No! she said, her bright blue eyes flashing. This is no time for tears. She swiped at her wet cheeks. We need to get Adam comfortable. Set up a drip, he’s extremely dehydrated.

Sally got abruptly to her feet. Maureen, can you get him into bed while I go and get the necessary from my supplies? Maybe Nat and Julie can help you. I won’t be long.

Of course, Maureen said.

Just be careful of that arm, Sally instructed as she left the room.

We all looked at each other, each mirroring the other’s concern.

She’s trying to hold it all together, I said. She just needs a few minutes.

He’s so pale, said Nat.

Adam’s strong, a survivor, said Sean. He’ll get through this.

He has to, I said. I couldn’t help the quiver in my voice. After all we’ve been through, I’m not going to let him run out on us now.

The questions came thick and fast as we left the house. Thankfully Maureen fielded most of them, told the family what the situation was and that we should all pray for Adam’s quick recovery.

We had all been through so much, a great deal of pain, loss, and heartache over the last year. The horror of the Black Dust falling, the ensuing storms, and then the final curse, the sentient, venomous vines whose touch meant certain death, watched over by the murderous insane Creeps, ape-like creatures, ferocious killers, silent, relentless.

The brute that had attacked Adam had tracked us all the way from Dartford, down in Kent, over five hundred miles to the south. There had been a confrontation on Queen Elizabeth the Second Bridge. Adam was responsible for the loss of the Creep’s right claw and the monster had followed us all the way to Scotland, bent on revenge.

We had already lost two of our number—Jules, our leader and mentor, the oldest member of our group, and Roger, dear sweet Roger, mercilessly shot down during an attempt to hi-jack our food supply out on the motorway close to the borders of Scotland.

And now Adam. It was too much. He couldn’t die. I wouldn’t let him.

Upon her return, I could see Sally’s eyes were red, but she was all business and efficiency, telling us to leave the room while she got on with setting up a saline drip. Dark thoughts were stealing through my mind, and I was fighting a losing battle keeping them at bay. Tag, the border collie that had attached himself to Adam, was the only one who didn’t leave, stationing himself beneath the bed, absolutely refusing to come out. Sally allowed him to stay.

The early morning was clear; it was chilled, but not cold, the watery sun giving the barest minimum of warmth. A quiet depression hung over the village as we gathered by a small rotunda on the main road that dissected the village. Main road? It was no more than a narrow two-lane byway and the rotunda, an octagon of dark blue painted wood with a slate roof steadily being taken over by green moss with wooden benches lining the interior railings. I guessed it was a meeting place for the former inhabitants of the village before the Black Dust fell. As the new tenants of the village, we naturally used it for