Z-Town

by Eden Darry

  Once the last of the zombies had gone, Lane approached the car.

  “Quickly,” she said and held her arms out for Lois, who jumped into them. “You okay? Not hurt, not bitten?” she asked.

  “No.” Lois shook her head.

  Lane put her down and focussed her attention on Wendy. “Here.” She held out her hand. “Wendy, hurry up. We don’t have time for this,” Lane said.

  “You’re going to take the treasure.” Wendy still didn’t move.

  “We can talk about that later. Meg just risked her life for you. Get down.”

  Wendy snorted. “No, she risked her life for her.” She nodded at Lois. “If it had just been me, you’d have left me for dead.”

  Lane couldn’t argue. “Which is the reason you took Lois. Either way, you’re not dead thanks to Meg.”

  “If I come down, you’re going to take it from me,” Wendy said.

  They really didn’t have time for this. “No one’s taking anything.”

  “I heard you talking, back at the Squealing Pig,” Wendy said.

  “Wendy, what—” Lane stopped dead in her tracks when Wendy pulled out a gun. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Insurance. You won’t mess with me while I’ve got this,” Wendy said. “Now step back. We’re getting out of here on Dawn’s Crack. And you’re going to get us there.”

  “No way,” Lane said.

  “Yes, you are. It’s where we were headed until we got chased into a store by a bunch of them.”

  “Wendy, think about what you’re doing. Is it really worth all this? For some jewellery?”

  “It’s not just jewellery. It’s proof. Proof I was right. Proof of everything I’ve been working on for so many years. They won’t laugh at me now. When I go to conferences, they’ll treat me with the respect I deserve. I’m not burying it all over again for your stupid theory. Besides, it’s worth a lot of money. It’ll give me the lifestyle I deserve too,” Wendy said.

  “They won’t let you keep it,” Lane said. “They’ll make you give it back.”

  “They have to find it all first. And as soon as I get out of here, I’m selling most of it to the highest bidder,” Wendy said.

  “Then how will you prove you’re right? If you sell it to a private collector?” Lane was stalling for time. She needed to come up with a plan, fast.

  “Oh, I’ll keep some of it. A few pieces that prove my theory. It’s really a win-win,” Wendy said, and the smirk on her face made Lane want to smack it off.

  Lane glanced up the street. They were running out of time. And what about Meg? Lane needed to find her. “Wendy, keep the fucking stuff—just get down.”

  “I will—” Wendy’s words were cut off by the sound of gunfire.

  “What the bloody hell is that?” Lane asked.

  “Sounds like the cavalry has arrived,” Wendy said. “Now we need to move.”

  Suddenly, the ground shook beneath the sound of a huge explosion. It knocked Wendy off the roof of the car and sent her bag flying, and the contents tumbled out and scattered across the road.

  “No!” Wendy cried, barely acknowledging the explosion. So desperate to keep hold of the treasure, she frantically began collecting it back up.

  Lane turned and reached out to Lois, who she had pushed behind her and out of the way of Wendy’s gun. Lois immediately came into her arms. She picked the little girl up. “Wendy, leave that. We need to go.”

  Lane felt Lois’s arms tighten around her neck and her legs circle her waist in the way all little kids know how to do.

  “I can’t. I can’t—it’s mine,” Wendy said, stuffing the items back in the bag as quickly as she could.

  “We need to get inside. That explosion, it could be Sigmarsson.” Lane tried reasoning with her again.

  “I don’t care. And you’re going to help me,” Wendy said and pointed the gun at Lane.

  “How did you manage to keep hold of that?” Lane asked.

  “Never you mind. Put her down and start collecting up the rest.”

  “Wendy—”

  “Now.”

  Lane had no choice. With a gun pointed at her, she’d have to do what Wendy wanted. But she’d bide her time, and she’d watch. And when Wendy let down her guard, Lane would have her.

  Lane put Lois down and kissed the top of her head. “Keep close to me. This shouldn’t take long.”

  “The more you procrastinate, Lane, the longer we risk more zombies turning up,” Wendy said.

  Lane nodded and began to pick up Wendy’s treasure.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Meg had just ducked into an alley when, from a distance, she watched Wendy take a header off the car. She’d tried not to laugh, but she’d failed.

  The zombies weren’t so smart. They couldn’t climb, and if you got out of their line of sight, they lost track of you pretty quickly. Meg guessed that was what happened when you had goo for a brain.

  Her plan had been to head up to Bradford and double back to the Governor. It was risky, but they’d done the beach to death, and she knew there were more places to hide in and duck into up on Bradford.

  Just as she’d been about to come out of her hiding place, another huge explosion had ripped through the town, almost throwing her to her knees. It was followed by a rapid burst of more gunfire. Meg could have wept with joy. That had to be the military. They were finally here. Surely she and Lane and Lois and Wendy could hang on for another few minutes until the rescuers got to them?

  Meg poked her head out of the alley again. The scent of burning hung heavily in the air. She looked up the street to where the gunfire had come from, but all she could see was smoke and dust.

  Then she saw it.

  Saw him.

  Ivar Sigmarsson.

  He emerged from the smoke like some kind of movie monster. Except this wasn’t a movie, and he was horribly, dangerously real. That was why the gunfire stopped, Meg thought. Those soldiers probably hadn’t stood a chance. Meg couldn’t think about how many had been lost to the zombies. Or the fact that they would become new zombies. They increased their numbers every time they bit someone.

  How many soldiers had the military sent in? And when they realized those were gone, how many would they send after them?

  Their only chance was to take Wendy’s treasure and put it back. Sure, Sigmarsson might be so pissed he had no intention of stopping what he was doing, but they had to try. What else could they do? All it took was one bite. One bite and you turned from yourself into a mindless killing, eating machine.

  They could send the whole of the United States military down here, but it wouldn’t make a difference. And when the authorities realized that? When they understood that there was no beating this thing with all their fancy weapons? Well, you didn’t need to be a genius to know they’d probably nuke the place. They’d probably blow it to kingdom come, and any healthy people who were left would be blown to kingdom come with the rest of the zombies.

  Meg stepped back into the alley, realizing she’d been out in the open too long. Now what? She was trapped here in this fucking alley. She had to find a way to get back to the Governor. Convince Wendy to give up the treasure. Or take it from her. After what she’d done to Lois—dragging her out of the Pig—she didn’t deserve their consideration.

  Meg decided she had no choice but to go back the way she’d come. Hopefully she’d avoid Sigmarsson.

  * * *

  Lane heard him before she saw him. She was stuffing the last few items into Wendy’s bag. The volume of his screech made her drop the bag and cover her ears.

  “Pick it up,” Wendy shouted to be heard above him.

  Lane looked up at her—or rather into the barrel of her gun—and had the urge to shove the thing down Wendy’s throat. She probably could if she wanted. But there was the chance Wendy would get off a shot first and kill her dead. Lane weighed it up for a second.

  “I wouldn’t. I may not look like it, but I’m an excellent shot. You’ll be dead be
fore you get near me,” Wendy said. “Now hurry, we don’t have much time.”

  We’ve run out of time, Lane thought. She looked down the street, and there he was, Ivar Sigmarsson and all his minions, some of them dressed in military uniforms, which was depressing. Clearly the army’s intervention hadn’t worked. He screeched again, and a blue mist began to swirl around him.

  Lane guessed he would probably do a victory lap after this. He’d just destroyed soldiers from one of the best militaries in the world, and he was now in sight of the treasure he wanted so badly. There was no way out of this.

  Lane sighed. Looked like it was curtains for them. She turned to Lois. “Get under the car if you can, Lois, and stay there.”

  Lois, who was standing next to Wendy, shook her head. “I can’t. I’m scared.”

  “I know you are. But it’s the only way. Just shuffle under there,” Lane said.

  There was a chance Meg was still out there and safe. Even if Sigmarsson took her and Wendy, there was a possibility Meg would find Lois. Not much chance, mind you, but enough to give it a go. If Lane could distract him for a second.

  “Give me the bag,” Wendy said.

  “I thought you wanted me to pick up the rest of the stuff?”

  “No time. Give it to me,” Wendy said and gestured with the gun.

  “Fine.” Lane made as if to hand it to her but, instead, swung it back and smashed it into Wendy’s face. Wendy stumbled backwards, the contents went flying again, and Lane tried to grab the gun.

  Wendy was stronger than Lane had given her credit for.

  “Give me the goddamn gun. You’re going to kill us all,” Wendy shouted.

  “We’re already dead, you idiot,” Lane said and punched Wendy in the side of the head.

  The gun went off with a deafening crack. Someone screamed.

  * * *

  Meg looked up at the sound of thumping blades. A helicopter. There wasn’t enough light to see who it belonged to, but she guessed it was military. Could helicopters carry bombs? She didn’t know. But it passed overhead and was gone, so she guessed she didn’t have to worry about being blown to kingdom come just yet.

  Meg had made it onto Bradford and figured the next right turn would take her onto the right street for the Governor. She’d been surprised to make it this far without running into any zombies. The thought worried her. Where were they all? She had a horrible feeling she might know.

  She was moving slowly, ducking in and out of front yards and behind cars just in case. It was slow progress, but the last thing she wanted was to run right into a zombie. She had Lane’s hammer, but the thought of using it made her feel sick.

  Meg was crouched behind a car when she heard the screech. She covered her ears. It was definitely coming from the bottom of the street. And it was probably Sigmarsson. He’d either met up with more soldiers or he’d found Lane and the others. Meg resisted the urge to run towards the sound. That wasn’t going to help the situation.

  But when she heard the single gunshot, she forgot about all that and bolted for the Governor. The only thought in her head was Lane and Lois.

  * * *

  Lane rolled onto her back, trying to shift Wendy off. Wendy was a dead weight on top of her. Lane didn’t know which, if either, of them was shot. It was hard to tell. She tried to look around for Lois but couldn’t see her. Hopefully that meant she was under the car.

  Lane heaved and lifted Wendy off her. Wendy groaned. There was no blood, so the shot must have gone wild. She’d been lucky, but so had Wendy.

  Lane stumbled to her feet and looked up the street. Ivar Sigmarsson was still there with his horde. He locked eyes with Lane, and Lane shivered. She felt pressure in her brain like he was trying to dig in. She stepped backwards. And tripped.

  Sigmarsson let out another almighty shriek. The ground shook beneath Lane, who was now flat on her arse. The horde moved forward as one, like a wave. Lane reached out blindly for something to use against them even though she knew it was pointless. She slid backwards on her bum, pushing with her heels. This was it. Curtains. She wondered where Wendy was but didn’t dare take her eyes off the zombies marching slowly towards her.

  Ouch, fuck! Lane shuffled back onto something sharp. She reached beneath her and felt cold hard metal. It wasn’t the gun, thank God, or she might have blown her arse off. It was a knife. The one from Wendy’s treasure.

  Lane slid it out from beneath her and held it up. It was glowing. What the fuck? That wasn’t right. Why was it glowing? And why was it so warm to the touch when it had been cold, seconds ago?

  Suddenly, the world tilted on its axis and then went black.

  * * *

  “Arn. Arn, wake up.”

  The first thing Lane was aware of was a soft rocking. Like being on a boat. The second thing was that whoever had just spoken to her had done it in a language that wasn’t English, but she understood it anyway.

  “I don’t speak your language,” she said. Except she did. She just had. How was that possible?

  “Come on, Arn. Stop playing around. Eriksson wants to speak with you. You know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” the voice said again, and Lane opened her eyes.

  She was on a ship—that much she knew. And then the word knarr came to her, and she knew that was the boat she was on. A cargo ship. She knew there were six men on board beside herself and that they’d damaged the front end of the boat. Lane knew they were less than a day from land. From Provincetown.

  “I mean it, Arn. You should come now.”

  Lane sat up and rubbed her face with her hands. Her skin was chapped and dry, and she was cold. She looked down at herself and saw she was covered in fur and skins, and what the bloody hell was going on? Not even her hands were her hands. They were large and male and had hair on the knuckles.

  “Give me a moment,” she said to the man—Bjorn was his name and she’d been friends with him since they were children. Except that wasn’t right either. And she was speaking this strange language as if she had all her life. And weren’t her thoughts now in this language too?

  Lane stood, and where her right hand rested at her side she felt her knife, her langseax. She’d had that since she was a child, given to her by her father, and to him by his father before him.

  Lane felt dizzy and like she was in a dream. Maybe she was. Or maybe she was dead. Ivar Sigmarsson had killed her, and she was in some fucked-up afterlife. Except that wasn’t right. She’d picked up the Viking knife, and now she was here. Transported, maybe, to another place, another time?

  That sounded completely insane, but then a bunch of zombies rampaging through a seaside town was also insane and that happened too.

  Lane stood. “Let’s go.”

  She followed Bjorn down the length of the boat, easily managing to stay upright despite the swaying. The boat was beautiful with a huge white sail and fewer oars than she imagined from the pictures she’d seen of Viking boats. It was wider than most Viking boats too and had a large amount of cargo in the middle. Because it was a knarr. A cargo ship for trading. Lane understood this, along with all the knowledge of the body she was now inhabiting. She was sure that if she needed to, she could navigate by the stars and wield the wicked-looking knife at her side with ease.

  As she made her way along the boat, she bumped into a man and instinctively pulled back from him. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “Watch where you’re going,” he replied.

  “Sorry,” she repeated.

  The man was dressed in the same clothes as her, but they were much better quality. He was rich. Ivar Sigmarsson. Lane was simultaneously afraid of him and repulsed by him. He was cruel and dangerous, and the moment she looked into his eyes, she knew it was him. Ivar Sigmarsson. She’d been right.

  Ivar Sigmarsson was Thorvold’s cousin, and the only reason he was on this ship was as a favour. They were going across the Atlantic. All the way to North America—except the word was different in this language, and there wasn’t a United States
yet. There wasn’t much of anything, as far as they knew. But they’d been sent off course during a storm, and the stern of the ship was damaged. Thorvold had ordered them to sail more southerly than they would have normally to avoid the storm.

  “Arn, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sirl.” Lane started to walk away, but he moved into her path.

  “Perhaps you could do me a favour,” he said, then carried on speaking as though she’d already agreed. “My cousin wants to dock up ahead instead of continuing on. I know he listens to you. Convince him to do otherwise. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Lane did her best to keep her dislike for the man off her face. “I serve Thorvold Eriksson, and any advice I give him will be in his interests.”

  Lane watched as his eyes widened and then narrowed again. They were sly eyes, full of cruelty, and Lane knew she had made an enemy.

  “Very well,” was all he said before he turned away, effectively dismissing her.

  Lane could see land in the distance. They weren’t far from it, maybe a few short hours.

  The man at the end of the ship was a stranger to Lane, and yet somehow he wasn’t. They’d sailed together countless times, and Lane was one of his favourites. He trusted her. She trusted him. Which was strange because they’d never actually met.

  “Arn,” he said and grinned at her. “You took your time. Too much to drink last night?”

  “You should know—you gave it to me,” she replied, and the words of this strange language rolled off her tongue without engaging her brain at all. It was as if she was a puppet.

  “I did, that’s true,” he said. “I want your opinion. This land up ahead. Have you ever docked there before?”

  Lane shook her head. “No, it’s further south than I’d normally go, but the storm…”

  “Yes, it knocked us off course. I’m trying to decide whether we dock there or take our chances and dock at our usual place.”