Purification

the small of its back. Stunned by the speed and the savage intent of the sudden movement of the corpse, Stayt did not fully appreciate what was happening until his right hand and forearm had disappeared deep into the grotesque cadaver’s decaying chest cavity. He began to gag and choke. The feel of cold, putrefying flesh was vile and the smell was overpowering.
    ‘Get this fucking thing off me,’ he wailed as he pushed the body away with his left hand and struggled to free the right. The creature was beginning to flail its arms around his face, trying to grab hold of him again. The other dark figure pushed its way past the first and rushed towards Michael. As Stayt squirmed free from his attacker and kicked the empty shell back across the room and into the window, Michael began to repeatedly punch the face of the body now attacking him. Each hard contact made the corpse’s head rock back on weak shoulders before instantly rebounding and drooping forward again. Again and again he hit out, and each time the condition of the head deteriorated further. The features gradually became unrecognisable and indistinct as cold, congealed blood, dripping flesh and brittle bone were ground together. Splits in the weak and rotten skin exposed the cheek and jaw bones and Michael hoped that the continuous beating would eventually smash and mangle what remained of the despicable thing’s brain as it rattled round its head. Stayt, having now pushed the first body to the ground and stamped on its head, crushing its skull, grabbed the second figure by the scruff of the neck and pulled it away from Michael.
    ‘I’ll sort it,’ he said as he lifted the sword and sliced diagonally up across the face of the corpse, from below its left cheek over to just above its right ear.
    As quickly as it had begun the sudden frantic activity in the shop ended. Breathing heavily through a combination of their nerves and the unexpected physical exertion, the two men stood side by side and looked down at the gruesome pile of remains at their feet.
    ‘Answers a few questions for us, doesn’t it?’ Michael gasped, panting.
    ‘Does
    it?’
    ‘Think so,’ he replied. ‘For one thing, it proves they’re not just going to give up and roll over. Those two went for us with as much force as ever. Difference was they had more about them. They had more control than usual. They were keeping out of our way then we took away their options and backed them into a corner. It was attack us or be attacked.’
    ‘Do you really believe that?’
    ‘Only explanation I can think of.’
    ‘So are we going to have to go through this every time we face them now?’
    ‘Probably.’
    ‘We should tell the others.’
    Stayt turned and ran out of the shop, leaving Michael behind continuing to stare into the bloody mess on the floor. He leant down, grabbed as many body parts as he could carry, and then dragged them out onto the street.

31
    By mid-afternoon a heavy mist had again descended across Cormansey, limiting visibility. Working their way building by building through the dark shadows of Danvers Lye, the nine survivors had made good progress with their impromptu cull. The group had naturally divided themselves into three threes. Two of the trios had concentrated on emptying buildings whilst the third, with Brigid taking charge, followed behind and cleared the bodies, picking them up from where they had been dumped unceremoniously in the street and driving them back in the truck to the roaring fire still burning at the entrance to the village.
    Michael, Stayt and Peter Guest had reached one of the larger and more modern buildings three-quarters of the way along the otherwise relatively quaint and traditional street.
    An unusual but practical combination of village stores, post office, gift shop, hardware store and supermarket, the shop had almost certainly been one of the focal points of the island’s small community before it had been devastated and torn apart. And just before nine o’clock on the first morning of the disaster some eight weeks ago the shop had clearly been a busy place. Michael stood and leant against the cold glass and peered into the gloomy building. He could see numerous corpses on the ground. He could see several others moving nearby.
    ‘What’s in there?’ Guest asked, trying to look over his shoulder without getting too close.
    ‘There are a few of them in there,’ he replied, his face pressed hard against the dirty window. ‘I can