‘They’re hunting,’ she murmured as we lay behind a fence while a small crowd of them shambled past, moaning and stumbling into each other.
‘The fuck?’ I whispered.
‘They’re so hungry. They remember Tankbread, but they don’t know what it is. They’re hurting and they are so hungry.’
‘Fuck ‘em.’ I stood up after the group passed. We climbed through car parks and shopping arcades. Broken mannequins and shards of glass crunched under foot. We slept that night in a penthouse suite atop an apartment building. The place had been redecorated. Someone had rescued, and then copied famous works of art, re-creating them by finger-painting in streaks of shit smeared on the walls.
From the balcony I surveyed the night city. Fires lit the tops of various skyscrapers and I fancied I could hear singing. I took note of the locations. Relieved to see that we were not the last humans in Sydney.
‘What are they doing?’ Else asked, curling her arms around me from behind, still oddly afraid of the heights we had ascended. She wouldn’t step on to the balcony without clinging to me.
‘They are singing, celebrating being human.’ We listened, snatches of song reaching us on the breeze.
‘You never sing,’ she said.
‘Nope, never had the knack.’
Rats nested everywhere and it was easier to toss the mattress aside and sleep on the base. I woke up some time during the night, Else had snuggled in tight, but the walls were flickering orange and shadow. I lifted my head, and then rolled out of bed. Standing by the window I looked out. A block away I saw a skyscraper engulfed in flames. The smoke drifted as black and thick as zombie blood from the fifteenth floor, spreading across the city. As I watched the blaze, I saw tiny figures falling from the windows, limbs spiralling as they plummeted. A cooking fire, or some source of comfort and light had been knocked over, and their sanctuary had become a trap. The way things were going, I thought, what the hell are the dead going to eat when we are all gone?
CHAPTER 38
I stand in a shallow boat, poled down the streets of Sydney, floating on a river of the dead. They move below me in numbers too great to count, in a slow circuit around Moore Park. Their flesh is in rags - it slides off their blackened bones and muffles their footsteps. They walk on a carpet of shed grey skin.
I step ashore at the sundered gates of Moore Park, where we fought against the legions of undead. Instead of Cerberus, three-headed watchdog of the underworld, the pregnant girl waits for me. Now she has three heads too. Her round, blonde face, the tiny head of her unborn child, thrusting out at me from her torn belly and the war-painted head of Josh mounted on her zombie killing stick.
They are going to be okay I tell them. I’m going to save the world. Else is a cure for the evol plague. Three mouths open and scream that I’m too late. They are dead. The world is broken. This ground is no longer hallowed. This is a place where only the dead live and we are its ghosts.
I woke up screaming. Else leapt off the bed, ready to kill and then kicked me in the ribs for scaring her like that. I wiped the sweat from my face, got my shit together and we pulled out before dawn. Making our way down the seemingly endless rounds of stairs to ground level, we paused before stepping out into the silent streets. We waited, watching to see if any shufflers were taking an early morning constitutional.
‘Moore Park is that way,’ Else said, her metal glove pointing past me. We started walking. Smoke from the burning office block wafted through the air like a stinking fog. It gave us cover, which meant it gave the dead cover, too. Buildings burned out of control in the city, the only thing you could do was stay away from the fire and look out for them coming down and showering the streets with rubble and falling glass.
The dead seemed drawn to the light of the fire. We went a city block out of our way to avoid a street congested with walkers and found more coming from other directions. Cutting through a decaying shopping centre, we slipped out a side door and crept between cars along South Dowling Street. Evols wandered in loose groups and from there we ran for the green hills of Moore Park. The fences and barriers built up over years of living in a state of siege were intact and I’d nearly forgotten my nightmare until we came to the gate.
From the charred remains it was hard to tell what exactly tore the gate down. It could have been a battering ram, or a missile. Bits of bodies lay covered in dust and soot. Flies swarmed in angry clouds when we walked over the shattered remains. Else put her chain mail sleeve over her mouth, sword held ready in the other hand as we walked into the park. The tents and shelters stood empty, flapping slightly in the breeze. A couple of dogs ferreted among the scraps of torn meat that littered the ground and smoke drifted from the ashen remains of the few huts destroyed by fire. No one alive moved inside these walls.
I worked my way towards Josh’s hut. Refusing to accept that we might be the only people left alive in Sydney. Swords in hand we advanced. The nearest dead rose up from the woman whose guts they feasted on and advanced towards us. Else cut the arm off the nearest evol. He grunted, and stumbled, knocked off balance by the blow.
‘Chain mail makes this harder,’ she muttered, embarrassed by the non-fatal wound. I finished the zombie, stepping up and smacking him across the throat with the sword I'd taken from Tristan’s castle. His head fell back, opening up like a Pez-dispenser and we were ready for the next two. I swung and carved a good chunk of skull out of the side of a male evol's head. His dead eyes rolled towards the wounded side and his hand reached up to grope at the black oozing mess leaking out of his brainpan. The second blow took the top third of his skull off and he dropped.
‘I see what you mean,’ I said to Else. She adjusted her strikes and once again she cut the dead down with ruthless efficiency. Years have passed since I cut down an evol that I recognised, so I hesitated when Katie lurched up in front of me. I could see no recognition in her eyes, none of the fire that drove her thirst for revenge against the walking dead who destroyed her family. None of that casual contempt for the rest of us she had. Katie, I reminded myself, is dead. Destroying what remained would be what she wanted. I stabbed her through the throat with the sword before twisting the blade and cutting through the neck.
‘More coming,’ Else warned.
‘Run! Head to Josh’s place!’ I shouted. Else looked at me blankly, so I took off, our heavy mail clothing rattling as we ran. We could have stood and fought them for hours, protected by Tristan’s chain mail. Killing zombies until our blades broke or we were smothered under a pile of hacked corpses. Running just seemed easier.
Josh’s brick shed still stood in the centre of the camp. We skidded to a halt under his drooping veranda and I opened the door. Stepping inside - Else right on my heels - we closed the door and put our backs against it.
‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ Josh said.
‘Josh, man am I glad to see you!’ I felt truly elated. During our journey from Woomera to Sydney, talking to Josh again, explaining what we now knew to him, had been my focus.
He sat in a frayed wicker chair near the fire. Shelves of books stood behind him, and in the fireplace only cold ashes.
‘You went to Woomera, you went all the way,’ he said.
‘Yeah, we got there. And we got back.’ I stepped forward, ‘Josh you aren’t going to believe this-’ Else blocked my way with her blade, her eyes intent on Josh.
‘He’s dead,’ she said.
‘What?’ I choked a laugh. ‘Don’t talk shit, it’s Josh.’
He raised his head, the dark green sienna make up now smeared, the black eye shadow deeper than usual and the full colour of his lips glowed fake.
‘I have been waiting for your return,’ Josh said slowly.
‘Josh…’ A great weight crushed my chest, making it hard to breathe.
‘I’ve held on, I’ve done everything I can. I enacted my emergency plan. It has two parts. It is my plan. Only to be used in emergencies.’
‘You’re not making sense, man.’ I
kept my sword ready, there would be almost enough space in here to kill him when we needed to.
‘Apologies. Brain challenging. Think,’ Josh slurred slightly and then gathered himself. ‘Emergency plan phase one. Inject inhibitor agent. This will ensure high-functioning post-mortem and allow for completion of phase two of emergency plan.’
‘What’s phase two?’ Else said.
‘Destroy own brain,’ the zombie Josh said and lurched his arm up towards the side of his head. Else leapt forward, twisting the revolver out of his hand and stepping back against the fireplace.
‘No, I need you,’ she said. ‘I need you to hear me and understand.’
‘You should be dead,’ Josh said, his head twisting to stare at Else.
‘Woomera, we went to Woomera. I have a message from Doctor Wainright. You must listen.’
‘Wainright… the mouth-piece of the military aspects of the project. Cry 'Havoc' and let slip the dogs of war, that this foul deed shall smell above the earth with carrion men, groaning for burial,’ Josh murmured.
‘Message follows, to Doctors Joshua Mollbrooke and Abraham Haumann, from Professor Richard Wainright, PhD.’ Josh snorted at the title. Else ignored the interruption and continued speaking like she was reading from a transcript.
‘Standing before you is the clone specimen provided by our colleague Doctor Haumann. Specimen received in poor condition, late stage organ failure due to pre-programmed systemic failure and environmental factors including malnutrition and dehydration. Utilising our laboratory facilities we have managed to restore the specimen to full function. I have noted that Doctor Haumann has taken it upon himself to continue his work on immune system controls for control of GE virus factors. He appears to have made the breakthrough we postulated during our last weeks working together. To whit, this clone arrived with the requisite pre-cursor elements in her physiology to create an anti-viral blood plasma. I have completed the stem-cell manipulation required and she will be systemically operational within twelve days. Further course of action is as discussed. I look forward to seeing the results when she is introduced to the necrotic network. Yours sincerely, Doctor Richard Wainright, PhD, Combined Forces Project Woomera.’ Else took a long shuddering breath, and shook herself as if awakening from a trance.
‘What was that about?’ I said. Else shook her head, eyes wide with shock.
‘It just came out of me, all those words. I remember hearing them when I was asleep.’
‘Hypnosis, subconscious implantation of message to be delivered to a target recipient,’ Josh said.
‘Do you know what it means?’ I said.
‘Yeah, it means you were too late to save me. But not too late to save the world,’ Josh convulsed, his mouth twisted in a pained grimace. His tongue, already turning grey, swiped over his rouged lips.
‘Must control infection. Can’t ohfuckjesus… stay, stay… focused… nngghhaa…’ Josh exhaled like a live person. I took that as a good sign.
‘We hypothesised about creating an anti-viral factor. A biological agent that could be introduced to the dead. Break the connections between them. Must be delivered to the… ohhhhhgodfuckme… delivered to … Adam. The alpha organism,’ Josh shuddered.
‘You said it died? The first one you made, it died?’ I looked from Josh to Else and back again. Neither of them making any sense.
‘Dead don’t stay dead. Dead come back. Adam genetic source for Tankbread and mutated virus. Introduce refined Tankbread to Adam. Plasma. Kill the tree. Kill it at the roo-gaaaaaahhhffunnnghhh! Root it out! It’ll be hidden. Somewhere in the hhhhnngghhfuckme… the house. Look thereohhhggghhod… ’
Whatever battle Josh was fighting against his own body he finally lost. The light in his eyes filmed over and he quivered with a final convulsion as his lips curled back in a hungry snarl.
I took the pistol from Else’s hand and put it to Josh’s forehead. There were no words. I fired, splattering his brains all over a shelf full of books that no one would ever read again.
CHAPTER 39
Else opened the door of Josh’s brick shed and immediately slammed it shut again.
‘Zombies?’ I asked
‘Uh-huuh!’ She looked startled. ‘Lots and lots of them.’
‘Shit.’ I searched the room. Some tattered furniture, stacks of books, a filthy hammock nest of bedding and a few cooking utensils. Armed with only the pistol and our swords, we were going to die in here.
I found a bottle, pulled the cork and took a sniff. Alcohol, strong smelling. Tearing strips from a sheet I stuffed them down the bottle neck. ‘Find some matches, or a lighter, anything to make fire,’ I said.
Else rummaged near the fire and held up a silver cigarette lighter.
‘Thanks,’ I took the lighter and flicked it till it lit. ‘Okay, now open the door!’
She pulled the door open and I stepped out under the veranda awning. Evols murmured and crowded forward. I snapped the lighter and touched the rag wick. A blue flame flared and I tossed the bottle into their midst. A dull wumph noise and the bottle exploded with a flash of light. The burning alcohol sprayed over the crowd, setting hair, clothing and dry, dead flesh alight.
‘Go!’ I yelled and Else shot past me, her sword swinging as she went. We high-tailed it out in the confusion and headed across the ruined campsite. The fire spread, evols don’t move fast, even when they’re on fire. These ones blundered into each other, tripping over the last of the tents and shelters, setting the remaining dry canvas ablaze. Thick smoke and searing heat filled the air, I kept my head down and ran, Else at my side until we pulled up short, a wall of fire blocking our way.
‘Go back!’ I yelled and we ran down a path between two lean-tos. A moment later fire engulfed them behind us. Dodging between burning tents and immolated zombies we reached the fence. From there we headed around the perimeter of the inferno. The dead filled the gateway, drawn in by the heat and light of the sudden fire which blew hot embers at our backs.
‘Can’t go back!’ Else screamed.
‘Forward!’ I yelled and we charged into the fray. Crashing into the front line of the advancing line of zombies our swords rose and fell, dead teeth snapped and tore at our chain mail suits. We pushed them back, cutting through flesh and bone. The thick black ooze that their blood had become made the ground slick underfoot. Else howled, whirling and slashing. When we cut their legs out from under them, they crawled on severed stumps. When we hacked their reaching arms off, only their mouths remained. Gaping, hungry and yearning to feed on our warm, blood-filled flesh.
Arms aching under the added weight of the heavy armour, I fought on. My sword caught deep in a woman’s throat. I smashed my armoured fist into a dead man’s face. His bones crunched and I felt the alien stroke of his rotting tongue slithering hungrily through the gap between my glove and metal sleeve.
We fought to a standstill, cutting them down and fighting to stay on our feet as the dead dragged on us. Visions of my river Styx dream rose unbidden and the heat of adrenalin washed out of me with the cold flood of real terror. We were fucked. The dead forced Else to her knees, one of them with enough neurons firing to realise the helmet might come off, pulled at her head. Three zombies tackled me in slow motion. I started to fall, yelling for Else to run.
Then silver flashed before my eyes and an evols head flew off right in front of me. My steel helmet came off and I blinked my streaming eyes in the thick smoke. Tristan’s horse reared, its hooves striking down like cleavers, crushing skulls and stamping the rotting brains into paste.
‘For Albion!’ Tristan roared as he rode down the teeming horde of zombies. His arrival distracted those attacking us, so we took advantage of the moment and fought our way clear of the clinging evols.
‘Well met!’ Tristan shouted from astride his horse. The heavy ball and chain weapon he favoured whirred and hit. The spiked ball sang its own funeral dirge, like a bullroarer, as Tristan smashed rotting skulls.
A thousand pounds of angry horse
and a rider skilled with melee weapons is a big advantage in any fight. We broke through the knots of zombies confused by the one man cavalry charge. Tristan covered our rear, holding them back until we made it to South Dowling Street. We took shelter in the buildings opposite the park. Waiting there and catching our breaths until Tristan rode over the hill and came cantering down towards us.
‘Sir Tristan!’ I stood in the doorway and waved, he turned his horse and rode the animal right into the building with us.
‘A magnificent battle!’ He had his knightly accent back again.
‘Yeah, it was quite something,’ I didn’t want to play along.
‘You saved us brave Sir Tristan!’ Else said. She didn’t know enough to humour him, her adoration was genuine.
‘It is my duty as a knight of the realm to give aid to all those in mortal peril, milady.’ He rose in his stirrups and bowed to her. Else executed a clumsy curtsey. I felt my gorge rising.
‘For fucks sake, enough pissing about. We need to keep moving,’ I wiped the shit off my sword and sheathed it ignoring Else’s hurt expression. ‘This is not a game, we almost died out there,’ I added, staring out through broken windows at the empty street.
‘Yes but I came to your aid and we won the day,’ Tristan insisted.
‘Bullshit! There are millions of evols out there. They don’t care that you saved us, they only want to eat us, or make us like them. We have to find out if anyone’s left alive at the Opera House. Until we get there, find Doctor Haumann and he does his thing we haven’t won shit!’ I kicked an empty can, sending it careening off the walls. Nearly dying always puts me in a bad mood.
‘We’re alive,’ Else said slipping her arm around my waist and resting her head on my shoulder.
‘Yeah, but for how long? We have to get to the Opera House. We don’t know if anyone’s left alive in there.’ Else pressed herself tighter against me her fingers brushing against my neck.
Tankbread Page 25
