Chapter 3

Elizabeth woke with a moan. Her body ached and the continuous motions of the horse did not provide any relief to her pounding head or sore body. Squeezing her thighs tighter against the saddle, she could still feel the outline of her daggers under her skirts. That provided some solace given the situation. Opening her eyes, she had to blink several times before making out the vast countryside in front of her. Rolling green hills spread as far as she could see, and the sky had transformed from a muggy gray to a serene light blue. Lazy clouds floated above, taking various shapes and providing shade to select portions of the landscape. It could not have been any more dissimilar from the scene she had left earlier that day.

Wincing, she felt a sudden shoot of pain at the back of her head. She moved a hand, trying to examine the bump she could feel growing beneath her hair. When her hand didn't budge, she glanced down in panic. Instead of seeing wounds or a bite mark, as she anticipated, she saw her hands bound and secured to the saddle. She began pulling forcefully at the restraints.

"You slept for some time," noted the figure behind her.

"Slept?" Elizabeth scoffed, mentally noting the bump once more. "You knocked me out. And do you really think I couldn't escape these bounds if I wanted to?"

"Oh I have seen your skills and do not doubt your abilities or…talents," replied Wickham, his mouth close to her ear. His left arm wrapped around her waist with his good hand gripping the reigns against her torso, pushing her against him. Wickham's makeshift arm swung back and forth to her right, taunting her and making Elizabeth cringe. "They are merely to slow you down in the event you do try to escape, which would be foolish."

He paused before continuing.

"Don't mistake me Elizabeth, for every attempt at fleeing I will order the turning of one of your family members, starting with your sister Jane, until all are at my undead beckoning. And Darcy. Well, you may have saved him for now, but he wont even get the pleasure of becoming undead."

She remained silent, not trusting her sharp tongue to win a battle against his threats, for Elizabeth knew they were not idle. At this point he was capable of virtually anything to complete his mission. If only she knew what that mission was. To lure in Darcy? Set another trap? Another cat-and-mouse game to attempt revenge again?

So far he had mislead Georgiana, swindled Darcy, turned his father, kidnapped Lydia, attempted to kill Darcy, and interrupted their honeymoon, the latter of which angering her the most at present. Wickham could have just as easily taken him over her. So there must be a reason why she was with him galloping to who knows where and for who knows what reason. All the thoughts rushing to her mind did not offer any solace.

That's when she mulled over his comment, all are at my undead beckoning. Did that mean he could control the undead? That whatever he ordered them must be done without question? It made sense given how all the undead rushed towards Hingham Bridge and completely disregarded their primal zombie urges to attack her while she rode through the horde. If that was the case, they were in more danger than she originally feared.

That's when another memory crossed her mind from the Netherfield ball. When she knelt over Mr. Bingley in the dark kitchens before Darcy jumped over the railing to eliminate the threat. In the stillness she asked how the undead orphans had gained entrance to the house, and the eldest undead boy had responded, "Our new friend showed us the way in." She could hear him clearly as if he stood before her now. His raspy voice indicating what she could finally now confirm.

"You showed the undead orphans how to get into Netherfield during the ball didn't you?" Elizabeth accused, turning her head slightly to the side to ensure he heard her. She saw him smirk in confirmation and then immediately turned back to face the road, sick at the sight of him.

That explained Wickham's sudden disappearance after Parson Collins whisked her off to dance. She should have known. And he had told her to heed Parson Collins' warning about the Day of Reckoning. He knew. Not because of his status with the militia as she originally surmised, but because he was undead. Their leader. All the signs were there from the beginning. Oh if she had but known then what she did now. Despite herself, Elizabeth busted into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"Do you care to share what is so dreadfully funny?" Wickham scowled.

She smirked, even though he was unable to see it. "Parson Collins said the undead would be lead on the last day of mankind. Given your rather 'heroic' entrance on the field earlier, I suppose you believe to be that leader."

"I am," he boasted. "As I mentioned before, they do my bidding."

"But you are missing one detail, Mr. Wickham. From appearances, you believed today to be the last day of mankind and yet here I am. My family lives. Darcy lives. And more undead are destroyed. You failed."

"No, Miss Bennet, you are mistaken," Wickham retorted cunningly. "Today was not the last day. It was merely the first of several days that are to come until you meet the end."

She smiled, happy she was finally getting information out of him, but she could not continue holding her tongue.

"Darcy," she abruptly responded.

"Excuse me?" he queried.

"My name. It's Mrs. Darcy," she spat at him. She could feel him stiffen behind her.

"Not for long…" he retorted quietly, gripping the reigns tighter.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon as Wickham lead the caravan off the road and onto another dusty path. After some distance they approached a worn-down wooden stable that stood on the edge of a small clustering of trees, sheltered by the surrounding hills. Several undead stood waiting patiently with five saddled horses.

"Heed my warnings, Elizabeth," Wickham reminded her as he brought the steed to a halt. He didn't need to tell her that they were simply changing horses before continuing on. Wickham lithely slid from the horse and looked up at Elizabeth. Removing a knife, he cut the rope that held her bound hands to the saddle before offering her some water an undead had just procured. Her pride and body were at odds for only a few moments before her hands reached out for the cool drink.

When she had finished, Wickham ordered her to dismount. Elizabeth struggled for a few moments before her feet hit the ground.

"Might I have a few feminine moments before we proceed?" she inquired of Wickham as he began leading her towards the fresh horse.

"As you wish," he responded, releasing his grip from her arm. "You know what is at stake if you run."

Elizabeth walked slowly into the woods, grateful for the respite. She knew they were in the North Country, but was at a loss of a specific location. Her palms twitched to remove one of her concealed daggers, release her bindings, and flee, but she knew not where. And the thought of Wickham turning round and targeting Jane was enough to make her change her mind.

Once she was out of sight, she bent over and ripped some strips from her already torn dress. Hoping Wickham would not notice given its already disheveled look, Elizabeth tucked the scraps discretely into the sleeve of her dress. She was just finishing her task when she heard leaves shuffling behind her. A male undead had been sent to retrieve her. She glared up at the undead and reluctantly followed him back to the horse. The three horsemen all watched silently as she emerged from the woods and made her way towards where Wickham stood.

"What happened to the fourth?" Elizabeth asked Wickham, remembering the Four Horsemen both from the surge that morning and when she spotted them in the graveyard late last year.

Wickham turned his gaze on her, his eyes narrowing as he ordered her to mount. Once more, he secured her bound hands to the saddle, tighter this time, before taking his place behind her. He dug his heels into the sides of his new steed and they carried on.

Darkness had enveloped the countryside by the time they hit the main path. Elizabeth slowly adjusted her hands and began pulling one of the white strips from her long, white sleeve. She let it fall onto her dress before it blew off onto the road. She waited a short time before discretely removing and releasing the remaining few strips of cloth, one by one. Hopefully it was not too late to provide some sort of breadcrumbs for her husband.

"Where are you taking me?" Elizabeth asked after what seemed like hours, unable to remain silent any longer. As a warrior she had trained for all situations, but that had never alleviated her fear of the unknown.

"You'll find out soon enough," he responded.

Elizabeth was about to protest and demand a more forthright answer when they turned onto an avenue. The moon provided enough light to make out the trees lining the gravel pathway. They soon approached a beautifully sculpted covered bridge, the hooves echoing in the confined space as they passed through. Rounding up a small hill, a marbled archway emerged from the darkness. After riding underneath, Wickham halted the group. As her eyes adjusted to her new surroundings, Elizabeth could soon make out a glorious mansion in the distance. A warm glow filled the windows of the house and she dared to believe it more spectacular than Rosings Park.

Between their position on the hill and the house lay a vast field. Elizabeth imagined it used to accommodate leisurely strolls or afternoon picnics, but now she gasped in horror for it was filled with undead. She guessed there were thousands present, unlike the mere hundreds they encountered that morning. They all groaned and turned in welcome upon noticing Wickham and the horsemen.

Wickham kicked his horse into motion and they rode towards the horde. The horse slowly made it's way through the undead, who raised their hands, daring to touch the horsemen and their leader. Bloody hands grazed her dress, legs, feet and arms, making Elizabeth cringe.

She was speechless. Terror turned to shock and then fear consumed her once more. They had been under the impression Wickham would assemble all his forces and attack their wedding, turning their day of happiness into the Day of Reckoning, but that was utterly wrong. What they experienced this morning was only a fraction of the remaining undead and the battle that was inevitably to come.

They now rode through the middle of the horde. Zombies covered the ground as far as her eyes could see, and she felt her heart quicken at the sheer vastness of it all.

She heard Wickham chuckle behind her, sensing her apprehension and awe.

"Welcome to Pemberley," he whispered.