The tall man turned back and Ed found himself caught in his eyes. They were the colour of the sunset, but the shades changed, becoming golden one minute and burnt red the next. Ed gasped and the man called Luke smiled. It was the sort of smile Ed imagined Dawid wore when he was on top of him.
'Yes, there's nothing to worry about. Aside from the millions of zombies around us. Aside from them, there's nothing to worry about.'
Ed whimpered but raised a shaky hand. 'Actually, there kind of is. There are soldiers at St Paul's, and they've kidnapped my friend.'
'Soldiers?' Luke frowned. 'Did they wear white crosses on their backs?'
Ed nodded and swallowed as Luke slammed his fist against the dash. 'We're going there, right now.'
'What about the others?'
'Others?'
'There are a few others still alive as well. We—'
'Who's your friend?' Luke interrupted.
'Huh?'
'Your friend, the one they kidnapped, what's her name?'
'Krystal.'
'Damn. I liked her. She helped me out.'
'You know Krystal?'
'Only in a roundabout way. The same way I know you, Ed.'
At the mention of his name, a name he hadn't yet said, his blood ran cold. He looked at the blood-stained sword in Luke's hand and shivered. Who exactly had he invited into his car?
Jackson
He was evil. He could obfuscate all he liked and tell himself all sorts of lies, but there was no other way to describe what he'd just done. She was innocent, as pure as driven snow. You could tell from her eyes. She knew nothing of evil or temptation. Yet he'd treated her like scum.
A tear escaped his eye and fled to freedom across the heat of his cheek. The belt felt good in his hand, the cool buckle pressed against his skin. And when he brought it over his shoulder and his skin rose in a welt, the pain was a message from God.
He refused to look deeper inside himself. He didn't want to confront the demon that lurked within, sneering at him from its place of safety. It knew he wouldn't face it. But he didn't need to. For every second given over to God, the demon grew smaller, and one day he would summon up the courage to face it and it would be gone. He smiled through the pain and brought the belt down again.
He would apologise and look in her eyes again. He would see his salvation there, and perhaps the salvation of the human race also. She was pretty, in a thin sort of a way, and had hips that would bear children. She would soon come to understand the necessity of breeding and spread her legs willingly enough. Bitches always did in the end—
The belt struck his back and the skin separated. He gasped, another tear joining the first. The demon was still there and still eager. He would beat it into submission. It was what God wanted.
The bus lurched and he realised with a start the woman was driving. They set off down the road, ploughing through more than one zombie on the way, and he grinned fiercely through the haze that threatened to knock him out. His back burnt like the fires of hell and he longed for a cool bed in which to stretch out. And for whisky to numb the pain.
He stood carefully, hands gripping the seats to either side. Had she spoken to him? He thought she had, though he had no idea what she'd said. Didn't matter now. Should he be driving? He watched the road for a moment and shrugged. She was doing perfectly well without him.
He turned and saw the other man, David, crouched in a seat, staring at him. Jackson rumbled down the aisle and plonked himself opposite. His back flared with every movement, but it was God's will that the pain remind him of all he'd done. It was the pain with which he was meant to live.
'I'm sorry about earlier. That isn't me, not anymore. It's been… difficult.'
'Yeah, that's what Bayleigh said. She said anyone who'd been on their own against the zombies had every right to be on edge.'
Jackson smiled and nodded. She was wise, at least in the ways of men. Never anger the primary male, for he shall lead the pack and deliver them to safety. He didn't remember that line from Bible readings, but it felt right. Perhaps it was a new testament, one for the new world in which they found themselves.
'I have to say, though, I don't agree. I don't care how long you've been alone, you never have an excuse to be violent towards women. I can't threaten you, but touch her again and you'll be back on your own pretty damn quick.'
Jackson's eyebrows shot up and he stared at David. The man gripped the back of the chair with whitened knuckles and shook as he spoke. He was terrified. As he should be. Jackson gave him a big smile and nodded. 'You're right. That's why I punished myself. God would never have harmed a woman, nor Jesus. It is for such sins that I do penance.'
'I see.'
David smiled and nodded the same way most people do when faced with true faith. They snigger and sneer, content in the knowledge that they know best. Jackson felt sorry for them, just as he did for David.
Perhaps it would be best if he weren't so vocal about his purpose. The word God made people afraid, and he wasn't here to scare people. He was here to save them. He nodded to himself.
'Where're we going?'
David shrugged. 'Bayleigh said we should find an alleyway, somewhere we could park up and leave as few windows as possible for the zombies to look through.'
'And what then?'
He shrugged again. Jackson wasn't sure how much he liked this man. He seemed ready with the threats, despite what he said, but he didn't want to go out on a limb. He was weak. You have to make your choice and stay with it, no matter the consequences. This man was eager to run from both.
Jackson grunted and moved back to the front of the bus. Bayleigh glanced at him from the corner of her eye as she weaved the bus slowly through the crashed cars.
'Where're we going?'
'There's a paved alley just off Piccadilly, between a theatre and some shops. I thought I'd put us there so we can work out a plan.'
'What plan?'
She glanced at him again and he saw a flash in her eyes. She wasn't as amenable as he thought.
'I don't know what plan, that's why I want to stop. Getting this bloody great thing through the traffic is enough to think about.'
'Are you saying I chose the wrong vehicle?'
'Not at all, I love it. Just takes some concentration, you know?'
Jackson nodded. She knows when to agree and shut her mouth. Not like his old girlfriend, though she had other assets. But she didn't know when to shut her mouth. He sat in the seat across from the driver's and watched the road.
The zombies were indefatigable, showing no signs of being up and walking for close to forty-eight hours. Would they keep going or would their energy run out? Did they eat for energy? If they had to eat then eventually they would fall to eating one another, regardless of whether or not they were injured. The thought brought a smile to his lips.
Bayleigh had a strand of hair in the corner of her mouth and chewed on it relentlessly as she heaved the wheel of the bus this way and that. The temptation was strong in him and he leant back against the seat. The impact on his fresh wounds made him hiss and blink as darkness threatened from the corners of his eyes.
Bayleigh looked at him, brows furrowed in concern, and the urge grew stronger. He could drag her out the cabin and bend her over one of the chairs. Would the zombies smell that? He grinned, but it must have looked like a grimace because Bayleigh slowed the bus, still looking at him.
'Should I stop? I can look at your back before we go any further.'
'No. Keep going. This is…' He almost said God's will, but he was trying to keep that on the down low. 'I deserve the pain, for what I did to you.'
'It was nothing, really. I still can't believe humans would do this to other humans.'
Jackson closed his eyes, wincing as he felt the children climbing down his throat. He had a flash of something he'd tried to keep hidden since his rebirth. He saw her, a girl of no more than ten, wriggling in his arms. And he saw the darkness of the van and the ropes that hu
ng like jellyfish tentacles, waiting for her to swim into their grasp. In her case he hadn't bothered with the ropes. He threw her in hard enough for her to sprawl across the metal floor and smash her head on the far wall. Then he slammed the doors and drove away.
The tears came unbidden and streamed down his face. He heard Bayleigh's sharp intake of breath, but she didn't know what he was crying for. He could never undo his past. He could only try to atone for it now, and that meant nothing to the little girl who'd spent three days in the back of that van, and emerged blinking at the coast smelling of piss and fear. He was just glad he hadn't seen her when she came out of the boat at the other end.
But he hadn't cared back then. Her crying and shouts had meant nothing.
He believed humans could do this to other humans. It wasn't difficult. He could wonder why, or how, but he wasn't sure he cared. His job wasn't to find the why. It was to find the survivors and carry them through into a future worth living. That was his role.
He was thrown from his seat and his reverie as the bus screeched to a halt. His knees struck the floor and he growled and nearly swore. But he bit his tongue instead and looked out the front of the bus. A battered Ford Focus was pulled up in the street. It was no different from the other crashed cars, except this one was running and he could see two people through the windshield.
Bayleigh squeaked and clapped her hands. 'There's more people, they're alive, there's more of us.'
David came running up the bus to stand beside him, clinging to the yellow pole that ran down the length of the aisle. All three of them stared at the car. Then the passenger door opened and a man stepped out that made them all gasp. Jackson felt the blood drain from his face, but David's response took him by surprise.
'Oh, no, nooooo!'
He ran down the bus to the back and cowered on the seats, covering his head with his hands and looking for all the world like he was trying to burrow into the cushions. Bayleigh stared at the man, brows furrowed and head shaking.
'Who is he? He looks familiar.'
Jackson nodded, his own forehead lined and tense. 'He sold me some flowers.'
'That's it!' She beamed at him. 'He's the flower guy with the amazing roses. I knew I recognised him.'
As if she only just realised what David had done, she peered out of the driver's compartment and down the bus. 'What's wrong with him?'
Jackson grumbled. 'Maybe he bought some roses, too.'
Bayleigh stared at Jackson, blinking. 'You're kidding me, right?'
'What?'
'I bought roses from him last week. And you did too, yeah?'
Jackson nodded, still not believing what he thought she was getting at. 'So David obviously knows him, too. I couldn't figure out why we were still alive, but…'
They both turned to look at the man. He came around the side of the bus, and Jackson knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they should drive away and leave him here. He was wrong, twisted in some way he couldn't explain. Then Bayleigh pushed the open button and the door hissed.
The man climbed on, looking around with a faint smile on his face.
'This is like a reunion, don't you think?'
Jackson groaned somewhere deep in the back of his throat and stared at the floor. The man nodded to him and he just about managed to raise a hand, but had no intention of meeting his eyes. He felt again the feet digging into his throat and coughed. Another figure appeared at the door and he squeezed his eyes shut as though he could magic away the horrible sight. But when he opened them, the boy was still there.
Stick-thin and small, with greasy hair hanging past his shoulders, he was any of the children Jackson had taken in the last five years. And now he stood ready to confront him, to accuse and condemn. Jackson put his hand to his throat and rose. The blood on his back was stuck to the seat, and he grunted as it ripped off and his wounds reopened.
The growls of hungry zombies grew louder as the boy scrambled into the bus, followed by another survivor with scruffy hair and a jumper no self-respecting man would be seen dead in. The doors hissed closed and they all let out a long breath. The boy stopped at the top of the bus and stared at Jackson.
'Your back is bleeding.'
Jackson tried not to cry, and failed.
David
The flower seller was here. He'd come back to get David and he wouldn't escape this time. He'd wanted his peace back so badly when he first returned. And when the zombies came he'd wanted it even more. But now he didn't. He couldn't go back.
The silence would kill him.
He watched in bemused amazement as the bands he'd wrapped around his broken mind snapped, twanging off one by one.
They flopped and hung around him like broken branches after a storm and, as hard as he tried for them, they stayed just out of reach.
He would be alone again.
He would be alone again.
He would—
'David. How are you?'
He whimpered and drew his hands tighter around his head. The branches bashed his face and scraped against his mind. A hand patted him on the shoulder and he flinched.
'I'm sorry.' He whimpered.
'Sorry?'
'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't hurt me, please don't send me back, ple—'
'David, calm down. It's fine, really, I'm not sending you anywhere.'
Silence. David waited for the punchline.
'Really, come on now, sit up. There are zombies outside, we haven't got the time for you to be self-pitying, sort it out.'
He sniggered and chewed his lip. He was self-pitying. Right. He sat up and stuck his chin out. 'I'm so sorry I feel sorry for myself. Imagine that. Faced with a man who put me in hell, how could I poss—'
'You weren't in hell. And you put yourself there.'
David blinked, staring at the eyes that bore into his. They were fire, burning through the fragile grip he had on reality as surely as the solitude had done two weeks previously.
The flower seller nodded. 'You put yourself there. You made bad choices, David, even after I gave you the chance to change them. All I did was show you your fear.'
'You showed me my fear? You put me in hell, you bastard, you PUT ME IN HELL.'
Spit flew from his mouth and into the man's face. The flower seller wiped it from his cheek and nodded. 'Perhaps I did. And I could apologise for it. But there are more important things to worry about right now.'
'More important than my sanity?'
David glanced down the bus and realised everyone was staring at him. Bayleigh's eyes were wide and her mouth was open in an O, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Why was she surprised? She didn't know David, none of them did. They didn't know what he'd been through. The only one who did was sat in front of him and he didn't care.
'My name is Luke. I've been sent to help you.'
David burst out laughing and shook his head side to side like a child refusing to do what he's been asked. 'You're here to help us? So did you bring the zombies with you? Is that what happened?'
'Of course not. I have been working very hard over the last week to stop it from happening.'
'Well, based on your track record so far, I'm not hopeful about the future.'
'Listen, I came to speak to you because what we're about to do will be dangerous. I need to know you can help and not hinder.'
'You know nothing. I'll help you with nothing so piss off.'
He lifted his feet onto the seat and wrapped his arms around his legs, tucking them into his chest. He looked at Luke and giggled. He was here to help. He shook his head and rocked gently back and forth. Luke hissed and stomped back down the bus. David watched him, with his confident swagger and easy manner.
There were others with him. He hadn't seen them at first. There was a young boy, maybe twelve, and a young guy who looked like a student. They were sat chatting to Bayleigh and Jackson. Now Luke moved among them and their eyes were drawn to him like he was some kind of celebrity.
Davi
d shuffled off the seat and slunk down the bus, just until he was in earshot. He listened to Luke, resisting the urge to spit.
'We need to rescue Krystal. She's been taken by the soldiers of god.'
Jackson's head jerked up and David jumped as he saw his eyes. 'Who are the soldiers of god?'
Luke sighed. 'They are the bringers of this plague. They stole it from a laboratory and unleashed it upon the world.'
'They aren't soldiers of god.' Jackson said.
'That's entirely right. He has nothing to do with them. But they take their messages from the Bible and they run the organisation that sits behind the church.'
'What organisation?' Bayleigh asked.
Luke turned to her, eyebrows raised. 'Behind every big business is a group of people the world doesn't see. Surely you know that? Some businesses pretend they are out in the open and have their chairmen and women and CEOs and what have you. Some keep things closer to the chest, like the Mafia and Yakuza. But they're all businesses and they all operate above the law. Because no matter what people tell you, the only law that matters is money.'
David blinked. He'd been ready to scoff and scorn, but the words cut through the whirling maelstrom in his mind and rang truer than the madness waiting to pounce.
Jackson grunted and leant closer to Luke. 'So what're you saying?'
'I'm saying that behind the church, and let's not forget that the church is one of the biggest businesses the world has ever seen, is an organisation. They planned the crusades and they send missionaries to places that don't need them. They supported slavery and supported its abolition when it suited them. They have a martial arm called the soldiers of god. And those men released the plague.'
'How can he let this happen?'
Luke sneered. 'Because there is no god, not how you see it. You think you have a god, like Muslims believe they have Allah or Buddhists have Buddha, but they're all just names. The Father doesn't care what goes on down here, not like you think he does, he—'
'He's given me a mission and I ain't failing it because of some bullshit from you. I don't know who you are, 'cept you tortured me and—'
Thirteen Roses Book Two: After: A Paranormal Zombie Saga Page 10
