'We all went through the same. What about Bell, what about Briggs? At least I'm still alive.'
Kirby turned to Debbie. 'Can't you talk some sense into this hard-headed bastard?'
Debbie smiled humourlessly and shook her head, 'I gave up trying to do that a long time ago.'
Lambert extended a hand which Kirby shook warmly. 'Thanks for everything, John,' said the Inspector.
'You can stop here as long as you like, you know,' Kirby told him.
Lambert shook his head.
'You're not going back home, then?'
'Not after what happened there,' Lambert told him. 'I don't think either of us could face it again. There's a little place in Bramton, about twenty miles from here. I don't mind the journey every day. We couldn't stay here after what's happened.'
Kirby nodded. Debbie got to her feet and joined her husband and they walked out to the car with Kirby at their side. He kissed Debbie lightly on the cheek and watched as both of them climbed into the Capri. Lambert rolled the window down and looked up at the doctor.
'I'll be in touch,' he said, and started the engine. The Capri moved off and Kirby watched it disappear out of sight over the hill. He stood for long moments alone on the hillside, until at last the cool breeze drove him back inside. Into the warmth.
'Are you really going back straight away?' said Debbie, studying Lambert's profile as he drove.
'What choice do I have?' he asked.
'Can't you put someone else in charge for a couple of days? Christ, Tom, two days won't hurt will it?' There was a note of exasperation in her voice. He reached across and placed his hand on her thigh.
'We'll see,' he said, smiling.
They drove for a long way in silence, the policeman taking back roads, dirt tracks, anything he could to avoid the hustle and bustle of main roads. When they had reached a particularly secluded spot he stopped the car and got out. Debbie followed him. He walked away from the vehicle, catching her hand and pulling her close to him. They stood on the hilltop, the whole of Medworth and its surrounding countryside spread out before them. The air was fresh, filled with the scent of damp grass and wild flowers which added an occasional clutch of colour in the all encompassing greenery of the fields. Lambert bent and picked a single bloom, sniffing it before he handed it to Debbie. She kissed him, pulling him down on top of her in that damp field. Their hands sought each other's bodies, their tongues eager for the taste of the other's mouth.
There, in that open field, high on the hill side, they made love with a passion they had never before experienced.
High above the sun shone down, its warming rays covering them.
Lambert woke with a start and looked at his watch. He sat up, startled, shivering. Beside him, Debbie stirred and nestled closer to him for warmth. Lambert began to laugh. He laughed until the tears ran down his face. Debbie looked up at him, his own merriment contagious. She too began to laugh.
She realized what he was laughing at. They were naked. Both of them, there on the hillside. They'd fallen asleep after their lovemaking, beneath the comforting warmth of the sun. She checked her own watch.
Four-fifty.
Still giggling, they dressed quickly and retreated to the safety of the car just as spots of rain began to fall from the rapidly darkening sky. They sat there for a moment, both now free of the tension which they had felt for so long.
'Maybe just two days,' said Lambert, smiling.
Debbie leaned across and kissed him.
He started the car and drove off. It wasn't until they reached the centre of Medworth itself that she realized what he was doing. Even after all he had gone through, the memory was still with him. She realized he was heading for the cemetery. To take one last look at his brother's grave. Lambert still bore the sting of guilt, but now, somehow, he had managed to come to terms with it. He had to see Mike's grave once more.
By the time they reached the cemetery, the sun had retreated from the sky, driven away by a combination of gathering storm clouds and the onset of night. Twilight hovered like a hawk in the darkening heavens.
Lambert shut off the engine and looked across at Debbie.
'Stay here.' He smiled, warmly.
But she was already out' of the car, reaching for his hand, their feet crunching on the gravel of the driveway. An icy wind had sprung up and the first large spots of rain were beginning to fall as they left the driveway and walked the pathway which led to Mike's grave.
A silent fork of lightning split the clouds and Debbie jumped. Lambert smiled and hugged her tighter as they walked. They finally reached the grave and stood beneath the big oak tree which hung over it, listening to the rain pelting down. Lambert read his brother's name and felt no pain, just a deep sense of loss. The wound was healing and he knew it. He had at last found the strength to come to terms with his brother's death. It was as if the destruction of the past two months had somehow put it into perspective. What was the phrase…?
They stood for long moments, close to one another, ignoring the rain which dripped onto them. Then finally, Lambert said,
'Come on.'
It was as they turned that they saw the figure emerge from the church.
At first neither moved and it was obvious that the person hurrying across the cemetery had not seen them. The oak hid them from its view. Lambert squinted through the pouring rain to get a glimpse of the figure, which seemed to be dressed in a uniform of some sort. And it was carrying something…
There was a blinding explosion of lightning and Lambert saw who the person was.
'Oh my God,' he breathed, 'it's Briggs.'
Debbie didn't understand but she felt a sudden, ungovernable terror rise in her.
'He's got the medallion,' gasped Lambert, watching, riveted, as the Living dead thing shambled quickly towards the patch of waste ground a hundred yards away. Waste ground. Outside the boundaries of church land.
The realization hit them both like a steam hammer, but it was Debbie who spoke first.
'Tom, the Unconsecrated Ground. Mathias's grave must be there.' She was pointing to the line of trees which marked the outskirts of the scrubland. Lambert was running, screaming at her over his shoulder to get back to the car, bellowing to make himself heard above the driving rain and persistent roaring of thunder. Debbie watched him for a second then she too ran, the breath rasping in her lungs, heading for the cemetery gates and the safety of the car.
Lambert reached the crest of the ridge in time to see Briggs tearing clods of earth up with his hands, furiously digging deeper.
The Inspector paused and pulled the Browning from his holster. He steadied himself, aimed and squeezed off a shot. It threw up a small geyser of earth a foot from the rapidly digging Briggs who paid it no attention. Lambert fired again.
This time the shot sped past its target and disappeared into the distance.
The rain seemed to have intensified and even the loud retort of the Browning was drowned by the persistent rumbling and crashing of thunder.
The Briggs-thing felt its fingers connect with wood and it redoubled its efforts, tearing the coffin lid free and exposing the moultly skeleton of Mathias. Grinning madly, the living dead corpse picked up the medallion, holding it aloft for a second, then placed it carefully on the chest of the skeleton.
Lambert fired a last time and ran towards the thing crouching in the centre of the waste ground.
His final shot was on target. It powered into Briggs' side just below the right armpit, tearing through the rib cage and exploding from the other side to send a confetti of shattered bone and gobbets of lung tissue flying into the air. The impact toppled the creature but didn't kill it. Blood pumping from its wound, it staggered to its feet to meet Lambert's onslaught. The Inspector used the butt end of the pistol like a club, smashing it down on Briggs' head with a force that buckled the metal. The head split open and the creature keeled over.
