Amidst the falling dust (The Green and Pleasant Land) by Oliver Kennedy Page B

his weapon presses against my skull. I raise my hands in a placating manner. “Lieutenant Tasker, buildings like this give off a lot of light, which is bad enough, but this building in particular was designed in such a way to maximise the use of that light to create a pillar, a beacon of light which shines high into the sky”.
    “A beacon” whispers Patricia sounding horrified. Deep inside Taskers eyes I see that same horror, though the man masks it with many other hardier emotional constructs. Now we are all running. The lift up is agonisingly slow. The corridors do not seem to end as we race to the utility centre. I locate the physical breakers for the lighting systems and flip all twenty of them down in quick succession. The room goes dark. We breath deep for just a few moments. “Were we in time?” asks Sutton.
    “No” says Trowler from the security console where screens display a feed from the buildings external cameras. We all go over to look despite knowing full well what we will see. There is a line of Cadavers all around the building, with hundreds more joining them every minute.

Chapter 6, Off to the lakes

    The rattling of empty fuel drums is like a death knell. A gong signalling the cadavers below to be seated for the final meal. Tasker throws down the last empty drum in disgust. “They're inside” says Trowler from the edge of the helipad as if the noise of breaking glass hadn't been enough of an indicator.
    Carlisle had risen. Tens of thousands of crimson eyes which had been aimlessly shuffling through the streets several miles away had looked up from their activities when the light went up. The Sword of Pendragon, as it had been known, had been the cause of much controversy and conflict between the company and the people who lived there. Some saw it as a welcome symbol of a thriving British industry and a company which supplied thousands of local jobs. Others saw it as ostentatious light pollution. The cadavers saw it as the dinner bell and had flocked towards the light.
    “Stefan Kessler” the thought comes to me suddenly.
    “What about him?” says Tasker.
    “He, and several other top execs had access to the secure underground car park, he drove a bomb proof Rolls Royce with bullet proof windows, he drove the kind of car that we might be able to get out of here in”.
    “Keys?”
    “His office, on the penultimate floor, just below the board room.” We sprint down the stairs. As I go I look down and far below I can see shadows dancing within the low level emergency lighting. The cadavers were shambling their way up to meet us.
    Stefan's office is opulent. I am reminded that no matter how high I thought I might have risen within Pendragon I was still a long way from a top spot that I would never see. The paintings on the walls were not replicas and the carpet underfoot was as expensive as it felt. Three of the walls were glass, the fourth was home to book shelves and a door which led to the CEO's private bathroom suite.
    We ransacked drawers and upturned ornaments looking for the keys, but they stayed hidden or were not there. Tasker was becoming angry. He smashed the butt of his gun through a glass tabletop for no other reason than to apparently try and alleviate some of the rage, it did not work.
    I was not immune to the feeling, after going through the empty drawers of Stefans three hundred year old, gold inlaid oak desk, for about the tenth time, I slammed my fist down on the unforgiving surface in frustration. I was surprised when I looked up to see a face looking back at me from Stefans computer monitor, the face was that of the man in whose chair I sat.
    “Patrick?” said the figure with a slight Scandinavian twang to his voice. The fifty seven year old looked in remarkably good health, he was well groomed and dressed in an expensive looking suit, I could make out little of his background, though I was certain that I could see shadows shifting slightly behind him.
    “Mr Kessler” I