Hal woke in the morning to the sound of moaning. And it wasn't him, despite his pounding head. It was coming from somewhere outside his cottage. He flung on some clothes and seized his bow, then cautiously looked out of his door. After the horror of yesterday he was quite prepared for the worst.

The first thing he saw was Bert Taylor nailing a beam over his neighbour's door. Bert turned a white face towards him, his eyes staring wildly, "Have the demons got ye, Hal?" he demanded.

"What the deuce are ye talking about?"

He saw Bert relax a fraction. "Ye sound yerself, praise be." The other man swallowed convulsively. "In the night, they came in the night." He hammered a final nail into the door and turned to face Hal. "Demons got Dick and his wife," he nodded towards the cottage he had just barricaded. "Turned them black, black with rot." A faint moaning sound came from inside and Bert shuddered convulsively.

"How do ye know it's demons?" asked Hal, unconvinced.

"They should be dead, anyone like that should be dead, but they're still walking, as if they're possessed by something else. Nothing we can do stops them. I know ye're not a believer, but what else could it be?"

Despite himself, Hal felt a superstitious shiver. All rational people knew that there were no such things as demons, few people believed in the old religions since humanity had gone out into space. Avalon might be a medieval planet but that was by choice, not ignorance.

"What does Squire Templeton say? Has anyone sent for him yet?"

"Not yet, there hasn't been time." Bert rubbed an unsteady hand across his eyes. "Dick and May aren't the only ones. Old Sam, who we buried three days ago, he was walking down High Street, going back to the smithy it looked like, but as soon as he saw young Jim, standing there with his mouth open, staring, he grabbed him ..." Bert broke off as if the horror was too great to continue.

"He grabbed him?" prompted Hal.

"Grabbed him and tore half his face off. Jim's dead, Hal. George and I got him laid out in the church, ready for burial."

"What happened to Sam?"

"He's still in the forge, I pushed the workbench over on him, pinned him to the ground. Then I cut his head off with an axe," confessed Bert. "It was all I could think of."

"Did that stop him?" asked Hal, realising that if he hadn't witnessed his own mother walking last night, he would have been totally incredulous by now.

Bert stared at him. "Of course it did. What do ye mean?"

"Let's go and have a look, make sure," Hal insisted, remembering uneasily that the monster that had been his mother had not 'died' until he shot it between the eyes. He was probably worrying for nothing, surely decapitation would have the same effect?

When they got to the forge, there was Sam's body, still on the ground, pinned underneath the work bench and Hal breathed a sigh of relief.

"So where's his head?" he asked, looking around.

"It must be here somewhere!" declared Bert, not wanting to believe his own eyes. But they couldn't find it.

"I think it's time we roused the village, let people know what's happening," decided Hal. "And someone should go for the Squire."

Bert nodded. "I'll ring the church bell."

Moments later, the bell tolled out across the village, summoning everyone to a meeting in the church.

The first to arrive was George Miller, white faced and agitated. "There ye are Bert, I've been looking all over for ye! It's Meg Forrester, her that died nigh on a month ago. She got into her cottage with Tom and the young'uns before I realised what was happening. We've got to go and board them up."

"Ye can't do that!" protested Hal. "There are children in there!"

"It's too late now! We've got no choice." George insisted, his face red.

"Come on, let's see," Hal strode off to the Forrester's cottage, George following closely, still justifying himself as they went. Bert stayed at the church to tell the rest of the anxious villagers what was happening.

They could hear the moaning before they reached the cottage. It was enough to send shivers down each man's spine. The wooden door was slightly ajar and now they could hear shuffling sounds coming from inside. Hal swallowed.

"Tom?" No answer.

Hal brought his bow round and loaded it, ready. "Sally? John? Are ye in there?" he called in a loud voice.

Silence.

"It's Hal! I'm here to get ye away from the monster."

Silence. Hal's shoulders drooped dispiritedly. "Board it over, then."

"I'm up here." A small voice came from inside.

Both men peered upwards and saw a white face at the window in the loft, looking down at them.

Hal grinned in relief. "Sally! Good girl! Do ye think ye can get out through the window?"

"I don't know, I'll try."

Sally pushed her head and shoulders through the opening, wriggling until she could get her body to follow.

"When ye get out, slide down the roof on yer bottom and George will catch ye."

Hal wanted to look out for Sally but knew he had to keep his eyes on the door. He was the only one with a weapon.

George was twitching next to him, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other. Hal was worried he was going to bolt any minute.

"George!" Hal spoke firmly, taking command. "Ye concentrate on Sally. I'll look after the rest, trust me."

Sally pulled her last foot free from the window and slid down the thatched roof, grabbing at the straw with her hands on her way down. She was almost at the edge when the cottage door swung open and what remained of Meg Forrester shambled out.

It was too much for George, he screamed and ran as if the hounds of hell were after him.

Gagging at the sudden stench that had wafted towards him, Hal drew his bow. He'd only have one shot at this. He drew back the arrow and let it fly, right between the creature's eyes. It fell to the ground and he turned to catch Sally as she dropped from the roof.

"Good girl!" he said. "Well done! John?"

Sally shook her head and buried her face against his shoulder. Sally clung to him all the way back to the church.

Everyone seemed to be talking at once, nobody knew what to do but they all had something to say.

Hal listened for a minute and then broke in over the top.

"Listen to me! The only thing that stops these monsters is an arrow through the brain or fire. I suggest ye burn the bodies, burn the houses if ye have to, but whatever ye do, don't touch them!" Hal didn't know exactly what would happen if someone did, but he just felt in his gut it would be really bad.

"I'm going to fetch the Squire and his armsmen to help us. Can someone look after Sally for me?"

No-one came forward for a minute. More than one person was eying the girl uneasily, as if they expected her to suddenly turn on them, like her mother had. Hal glared at them in disbelief. "She's just a little girl!"

"I want to go with ye," whispered Sally.

"I'll look after her," offered Meg Cook, a trifle reluctantly it seemed.

Sally clung tighter to Hal. "I don't want to stay here with the monsters! I want to go with ye," she said again.

Hal didn't want to take the child with him, but it seemed cruel to pry her loose. "It's two miles to the manor. Can ye walk that far?"

Sally nodded.

"Alright then," Hal gave in. "Ye can come with me to the Squire's manor, then we'll see." He turned to the villages. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Remember what I said about the burning." A few people nodded, but he could hear them still talking as he left, Sally walking briskly by his side.

~~~

An hour later found them both at the manor house on the hill. Squire Templeton stared at Hal in disbelief. His eyes popped and his moustache bristled. Until that moment he'd always considered Hal one of the more reliable villagers, but he sounded like he'd had one too many this time. He made him repeat his story several times but it wasn't until Sally whispered that her Ma had killed her Da that he started to take them seriously.

"Most of the men are out hunting a boar that got loose, I'm not expecting them back until nightfall. We'll go down to the village first thing in the morning," he decided. "You and the girl can stay here for the night, there's plenty of room."

Hal wasn't happy about the delay but it was out of his control. At least the villagers knew what to do now, a night shouldn't make that much difference.

Next morning the Squire led a party of men through the forest, armed with bows and swords, still not quite convinced by Fletcher's story. Obviously something terrible had happened in Beescombe, but walking dead people sounded too much like a bard's tale.

The low moaning coming from the village as the party drew near, was the first indication that something had gone wrong with Hal's strategy of containment. Hal hurried forward, his bow at the ready. Burning the bodies should have stopped the creatures in their tracks, what had happened? Had Dick and May broken out of their barricaded cottage?

The Squire and his men followed more cautiously, something about that noise had the hair standing up on the back of their necks.

They stopped at the edge of the village, staring in sick horror. Instead of a group of villagers happily going about their daily tasks, they saw blackening corpses. The worst was that despite rotting features, Hal could recognise most of them. There was Jim, Meg. He saw Dick and May on the green, evidently barricading the door had not kept them in the cottage. Where was Bert? He knew what they were facing, he'd have escaped, surely? His stomach clenched in fear as he searched the mutilated faces. Feeling sick, he spotted Bert at the back. It appeared all too likely that he and Sally were the only survivors. Thank heavens he had taken her with him!

Then one of the creatures turned towards them, making disgusting snorting sounds as it tried to sniff the air with only half a nose. In a matter of seconds, it seemed every creature began to move in their direction, some walking as quick as a man, others in a twisted shambling gait.

"Heavens above!" exclaimed the Squire in a faint voice.

"Aim for the eyes!" said Hal grimly, loading his bow. "Then we burn the whole place down."