"Good advice," he said, picking up his pace. "But I was going to say keep your weapons handy. Well come across the undead soon enough."

He was right. Though the first they came to wasnt a threat. It was a forlorn creature standing in the middle of an empty field. Or that was what Chester first thought.

"Its been baked in there," he said as they walked past. The zombies hands clawed out as it tried to reach them, but its feet were stuck fast in the ground.

"It must have been there for... I dont know. Months," Greta said.

"Since the late spring rains," Chester said. "It stayed there for wont of any reason to leave, and now itll remain there until the rains come again."

The creatures arms were flailing up and down almost in unison, and with each swing a tattered fragment of cloth flew off, only to drift down around its feet like a macabre blossom.

"Well go on for a mile and a half south, and then turn east," Chester prompted, and they set off once more.

The fields they pa.s.sed were much the same as the one with the living scarecrow and filled with nothing more edible than weeds and the occasional serpentine bramble snaking out from an overgrown hedgerow.

"You think we can eat them?" Reece asked as they pa.s.sed one laden hedge.

Greta pulled a berry from a stem, and popped it in her mouth. "Think so," she said.

"Id have washed it. Dont know whats been along this road," Chester muttered. "And checked the Geiger counter first." But when he did, the reading was no different from earlier. Chester mulled that over for the next mile. He trusted Mr Tull and could see no reason why he would have lied. And, indeed, it was a good thing that Kent wasnt the radioactive wasteland that Scotland and parts of the Midlands had become. But why had it been spared? Hed just come to the conclusion that the answer must be connected to why theyd seen so few of the undead when, reaching the top of a slight hill, they saw a dozen zombies huddled in a dip a hundred yards further down the road.

"Four of us. Twelve of them," Finnegan said.

"Yeah," Chester said. "So dont just stand there. Get across that field."

"Were not going to fight?" Finnegan asked with obvious surprise.

"Whats the point?" Chester replied. "Itd only slow us down."

The field led to a paddock and the skeleton of a horse.

"Wheres the raven?" Reece muttered as they climbed another fence and were back on a road.

"What?" Chester asked.

"Shouldnt there be a raven? Shouldnt there be birds? Didnt you say you saw lots at the airport?"

"Parakeets. Hundreds of 'em. Havent seen a raven of late except at the Tower."

"Foreboding, thats what it is," Reece muttered, too morosely for Chesters taste.

The road curved and kinked, and Chester realised they were heading more south than east. He was about to propose they turn back towards the coast when Finnegan pointed.

"There. You see that?"

Chester looked ahead. "What? You mean the trees?"

"Yeah, theyre planted too neatly," Finnegan said. "That must be an orchard.

"I cant see any fruit," Chester said.

"Not all fruit is bright red," Finnegan replied.

The road dipped and twisted, and the trees were lost from sight. Chester was just wondering whether anyone had built a straight road in Kent since the Romans, when they saw the field again. Now they were closer, it was obvious that the trees were planted in rows, and that they had once been cultivated.

"Zombies," Reece hissed.

In front of a wide, tall gate were six of the undead. Two had been male. One, judging by the lank remains of long blonde hair, had possibly been female. The other three were too desiccated to make out any features beyond the snapping teeth, gnashing and snarling with increased vigour as the zombies saw the four travellers.

"This is where we fight," Chester said. "Ive got the right. Finnegan, you take the left. Try and angle behind them. Greta and Reece, you go down the middle of the road. Get them to split up. Remember, go for the legs. If more than two come at you, back away. Dont run, just move quicker than them."

They walked abreast down the road as the creatures staggered towards them. Chester raised his mace, and the other three raised their axes. He took a hopping skip forward. As hed hoped, the sudden movement caused two of the undead to angle towards him. One was tall, even after months of walking death. The other, save for a matted beard that stretched half way down its neck, was as nondescript as the hundreds of others hed brought to a second, final end.

The tall creatures arms clawed pendulously out and down. Chester skipped back, out of reach, then forward. He raised his left arm to block its back-swung hand as his right went low, smashing the mace into its calf. There was a moment of soft resistance as flesh was pulverised, and then a sharp crack as bone broke, and a grunt from Chester as the toppling zombies flailing arm slapped against the side of his head. Ears ringing, he stamped his heel into its jaw with a revengeful crunch.

The second of the undead was only a pace away. Chester took another step back as it took a step forward. The p.r.o.ne creature lashed out with its spindly arms. The second zombie tripped. Fell. Chester brought the mace, two-handed, down on its skull.

He turned his attention to the other four and cursed. Reece was cleaving his axe left and right, hacking at the three zombies in front of him. Each blow cut flesh, severed fingers, and maimed limbs, but the only effect of his wild swings was to force Greta back behind him where she couldnt reach the undead.

"Go for the knees!" she yelled. But Reece didnt hear, and with each blow he took a half step forward, and the undead were edging around him.

Chester bellowed as he ran towards the trio of undead. They paid no attention to his war cry, and were still swiping and clawing at Reece as Chester swung the mace low, knocking one to the ground, then high, smashing a second to its knees, then up over his head to bring it crashing down on the thirds skull.

"Finish them. Quick," he yelled, but Greta was already darting forward, stabbing the axes sharp point at a zombies exposed head. Chester turned to look for the last one and saw Finnegan leaping over its unmoving body, heading towards that spindly creature whose spider-like arms still flapped against the muddy roadway. Finnegan swung down once, Greta once more, and it was over.

"Alright," Chester said, breathing hard. "Look. Reece. Reece? Look at me. Right. Youre all right. Its over. You did good, but next time remember that youre not chopping wood."

"And try and aim at their heads, not mine," Greta snapped.

"Yeah. Um. Im sorry," he mumbled.

"Well, what about this orchard?" Finnegan prompted.

It wasnt an orchard. Supported on rows of wooden poles, a great lattice of wire and rope was suspended ten feet above the ground. Trailing up and then hanging down in nearly neat rows about eight feet apart, was a ma.s.s of leaves, dangling from which were a forest of small cone-like flowers.

"What are they?" Greta asked, picking one and rubbing it across her fingers.

"Hops," Chester said. "As in beer. That was the other thing that Kent was famous for."

"Can we eat them?" Finnegan asked.

"I dont think so," Chester said. "Lets try the next field. Thatll at least get us away from the road."

At the fields far end they found another gate leading to another hop garden.

"Hold my legs," Chester said as he climbed up the gate. Braced, he craned his neck left, then right.

"Theres a couple of fields like this to either side," he said, as he jumped down. "Beyond that, I cant tell."

They climbed over the gate and into the second field. This one was not so picture perfect as the first. Half of the wooden trellises had been pulled down or had collapsed under the strain. Still, Chester thought, as he took a cautious sip from his water bottle, it was a more pleasing sight than most hed come across.

"Where you find hops, you probably find barley nearby," Reece said.

"And how do we harvest it?" Greta asked.

"Sickles and scythes," Reece said, promptly. "There are enough weird weapons at the Tower which look like-"

"I didnt mean what tools wed use. How much could you cut by hand?" She swiped her axe at a trailing plant. "If it werent for the undead, it would be back-breaking work, but we could manage it. But as it is, how much time would we have before the zombies came. An hour? Less? We could never gather enough to feed everyone."

"And a stalk of barley isnt the same as a refined grain," Chester said, putting his bottle away. "Ive learned that much these last few months. But you know what Im thinking? Im thinking that farms were big on diversification, and this one wouldnt focus solely on hops. Theyd grow fruit for cider. Maybe grapes."

"Really?" Greta asked.

"Probably. Well keep going for a couple more fields, and after that, well think about heading back."

He was halfway across when he heard the scream. He turned in time to see Reece fall to the ground. He started running, but Greta reached the man first. Chester saw her swing the axe up, then down with a meaty thunk. By the time he reached him, she was pulling the axe from the skull of a zombie missing both its legs, and which had been hidden beneath the collapsed crop.

"Finnegan, Greta! Eyes open, check for more of them. Reece, you okay?" Chester asked bending to look at the mans leg.

"Im fine," Reece said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, you probably are. Its taken off a bit of skin, but not done much more than that. Youll have another nice scar to add to your collection. Any more zombies?" This last was asked of the Finnegan and Greta.

"No. I think were alone," Greta said.

"What now?" Finnegan asked.

"Do you think you can walk?" Chester asked the injured man.

"I can try," Reece said.

"Thats the spirit, but lets stop the bleeding first." He pulled a small first-aid kit out of his pack. "Does it hurt as much as last time?" he asked as he tore the ragged trouser leg free and started wrapping a bandage around the mans leg.

"Last time?" Reece asked.

"Yeah, the last time you were bitten."

"Ive never... I mean, I havent..."

"You mean you dont know if youre immune?" Chester asked. When hed asked Tuck which people had the most experience of fighting the undead, hed... he realised that hed just a.s.sumed shed given him the names of three people who were immune. "Well, you havent died yet," he said. "Thats a good sign. Your colours good, and your temperatures fine."

"Thats important is it?" Reece asked with eager anxiety.

"Oh, yeah," Chester said with as much confidence as he could manage. It wasnt much. "But we need to get out of here. Finnegan, you take his weight." Chester pulled Reece to his feet. "Greta, you keep an eye out behind us. Were looking for a farmhouse or anywhere else thats less exposed than here."

"And then what?" Reece asked.

"We want a bike. A handcart will do in a pinch, but a bicycle would be better. Its about three miles back to the boat in a straight line, but we cant go back the same route, so call it five miles. We could walk that in an hour, run it in a lot less, but since you cant do either, wed have to stop to fight any time we came across the undead. If were lucky, well make a mile an hour, and that means well still be out here come nightfall, and you do not want to wandering around outside after dark."

At the end of the hop garden, and separating it from the next, was a track. That led to another field, this one filled with weeds and the familiar sun-baked earth.

"Theres a chimney," Finnegan said.

"Then thats where were going."

It was a farm with a house, two barns, and a collection of outbuildings. The closed gate was a welcome sight, but it opened with a grating screech that was echoed by a clattering rattle from somewhere around the back of the house.

"Stay here," Chester said, leaving them by the locked front door.

A zombie wearing the ragged remains of a camouflage jacket and even more ragged red jeans staggered around the corner. Chester swung the mace sideways, smashing the creatures skull against the pebble-dashed wall. As the body collapsed he listened, counting slowly to ten, and then to twenty. He could hear nothing but Finnegans feet shifting as he balanced the weight of the injured man.

Chester forced the back door, gave each of the rooms a cursory glance, and then thumped a fist against the wall, twice. He counted to five. He still heard nothing. He let the other three in.

"In there," Chester pointed. Finnegan helped Reece into the front room, and dropped the injured man onto the sofa.

Chester checked the house again, this time more thoroughly. Finally satisfied that they were alone, he returned to Reece, took off the bandage, and examined the wound.

"It looks good," he said.

"Really?" Reece asked, sceptically.

"Its been an hour since you were bitten. Id say youre going to be fine, though you wont walk for a while. Finnegan, Greta, were going to check the barns and the outbuildings. Look for a bicycle, but keep your eyes open for a car. Or a tractor. Anything with an engine that can run on diesel."

"Surely there wont be any fuel left," Finnegan said.

"Probably not around here. But theres some in the lifeboats tanks. One of us can cycle there and bring it back. Well only need a litre or so."

They checked the barns and the outbuildings. There was no bicycle. There was no car. There wasnt even a tractor. All they found, in a raised bed behind the farmhouse, was a patch of rubbery pick-and-eat lettuce.

"Never liked lettuce," Greta said. "And these are the leaves even the slugs rejected, but at least its fresh."

"With that zombie wandering around in here, youd have to boil it up first. You ever eaten boiled lettuce?"

The farm was surrounded in parts by fence, in other parts by wall, and others by hedge. With the front gate closed, Chester felt sure that no undead could easily get in. They went back inside. Finnegan collapsed into a chair next to Reece, and Chester went into the kitchen.

"What are you looking for?" Greta asked.

"Tea. Coffee. Beer. Anything that isnt water or those cubes of whatever they are."

The cupboards were empty. Chester closed the last one. "Right. So someone came here and emptied the place, and they did a thorough job of it."

"Theres the lettuce," Greta said. "Shall I start a fire?"

"Theres plenty to burn, but weve only got the water were carrying. We could clean it with bleach, I suppose, if youre that hungry." He bent down and pulled open the doors under the sink. The cupboard was bare. "Or you could if they hadnt taken the bleach with them as well."

"So what do we do?" she asked.

Chester looked at the wall between the kitchen and the living room. Then he looked out the window. The shadows were lengthening.