Serial Killer Z: Shadows

by Philip Harris

  Cali leaned past me. I thought she was going to stop the elevator, but instead she pressed the button for the 27th floor.

  “Jon likes to go to bed early,” Cali said.

  I could see Jon’s reflection in the mirror beside the elevator door. His jaw tightened.

  We rode in silence to Jon’s floor. Cali stepped out of the way to let him out. As soon as he was past, she moved back alongside me and slipped her arm through mine again.

  “Goodnight,” Cali said as the doors closed, but Jon didn’t reply.

  Cali sighed and shook her head. “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine in the morning. He’s just cranky at the moment.”

  I looked up at the numbers above the door, willing the elevator to go faster. Cali’s fingers idly brushed my arm.

  The elevator dinged and the doors opened. I started to pull away from Cali and say goodnight, but she walked out into the corridor with me. The doors slid closed behind us. A trapped feeling settled over me.

  I found my pass and pressed it against the sensor beside the door. The mechanism whirred, and there was a click as it unlocked. I started to push the door open, but Cali put her hand on mine. Her eyes were bright, still filled with excitement after the thrill of unleashing Olivia.

  She leaned toward me.

  Instinctively, I turned my face away. “No!”

  My voice was harsh, and she pulled back, shocked.

  “I’m sorry, I…”

  Cali’s surprise faded. Her expression became neutral. “No. It’s okay.”

  Without waiting for me to respond, she walked back to the elevator and jabbed her finger against the call button.

  I watched her, trying to think of something to say.

  The elevator opened again, and she went inside. I caught her gaze as the doors slid shut. There was hurt in her eyes, and anger.

  Chapter 29

  Threads

  I went into the apartment, slumped down onto the sofa and looked out at the city. A few cars rolled along the streets. Most of the buildings were dark, but there were a few scattered lights here and there. I wondered how many of them belonged to people who’d been at The Club. Maybe Olivia and Peter had lived in one of them.

  I tried to feel the same enthusiasm for the outbreak that Cali had, but whatever forces drove her clearly weren’t present in me. She enjoyed the killing, yes, but there was more to it than that. The fight between Monstro and Falcon hadn’t appealed to her. She’d only been there to initiate the outbreak. That she’d enjoyed. She lived for the chaos, the unpredictability.

  My own kills had been the opposite. I’d worked to control every aspect of each one. I’d spent days planning everything in meticulous detail to eliminate every variable I could and minimize those I couldn’t.

  Cali might have her own shadow, but we weren’t alike.

  Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t help me. Maybe together Cali and I could unlock my shadow and restore the part of me that I’d lost. I’d thought maybe there was a connection with Melissa, the mechanic I’d met in Hope, but I’d been wrong. Perhaps that connection was possible with Cali.

  I pressed my fingers against my temples where a headache was beginning to form. I certainly wanted the shadow back—I felt lost without my darker self. Could Cali and I coexist, even complement each other? If I joined her and used the subjects she created for my own work, would that bring the shadow back? She certainly seemed to think so.

  And what about her attempt to kiss me? At The Club, she’d played the role of the seducer like a master—teasing and tempting her prey seemingly at will. Was her apparent attraction to me just another act or was there more to it than that?

  I’d never really thought of a woman that way—as a potential partner, a mate. My limited sexual experiences had been purely physical and born out of convenience, not any real emotional attachment. Attractive though Cali was, I felt no desire toward her.

  The image of her in the elevator stuck in my mind, though. She hadn’t taken my rejection well. It had made her angry, and anger makes people unpredictable. I’d do well not to antagonize her. She was a killer, after all, even though her methods were unusual. Frustration welled up in me. Why hadn’t I just refused Cali’s offer when I’d first met her?

  I leaned back into the soft embrace of the sofa. The smell of new leather enveloped me.

  The shadow was the key. If I found a way to bring it back, I’d be grounded again. Then I’d be able to think clearly. Seeing Alex and Lucy had done nothing to revive that part of me. Nor had witnessing the fight with Monstro or Cali’s outbreak. But I hadn’t participated in either of those things. I hadn’t picked a subject, taken the time to hunt them down, prepared. Perhaps if I did those things, then I’d find my center again.

  I could leave the city and do that on my own. Or just leave Cali and find a place to live, pick a secluded location, find a subject and work on them. Just as I always had. It would be difficult, and dangerous, and it would take time, but I could do it.

  Or maybe I should let Cali help me. She certainly wanted to. If I told her what I needed then she’d find a way to get it for me or get Jon to. I’d always worked alone, for obvious reasons, but teaming up with someone would make it easier. It wasn’t like Cali didn’t know the real me. She even seemed to be attracted to that aspect of my psyche. I’d have to keep her at a distance, but that was okay. Tonight’s rejection of her might even be enough to dissuade her from approaching me again.

  I took a deep breath. My eyes were growing heavy. Being around other people drained me. I needed time to recharge before I talked to Cali again. Forcing myself up off the sofa, I prepared for bed.

  A plan was clicking into place. I had that indefinable feeling that I was on the right track. The details weren’t finalized, but I could include Cali in the planning. She knew the city better than me, and involving her as much as possible, at least for now, would build trust. I’d leave eventually, of course—once my shadow was back in its rightful place—but for the time being, we’d be a team.

  Despite the aches and pains in my body, I felt lighter somehow as I climbed into bed. I had a goal and a plan to reach it. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.

  My dreams were a riotous mix of imagery. Crowds of zombies wreaking havoc in nightclubs. Long dinner tables surrounded on either side by well-dressed couples all eagerly waiting while the host carved slices from the zombie chained to the table in front of them. Looking down on a dark alley as a team of soldiers in body armor tried to take down Monstro. Monstro tearing the men apart one by one, a manic grin on its face.

  The smell woke me. It caught in my throat, a thick burning sensation that brought me coughing and spluttering awake. The remnants of the dreams pressed down on me, pinning me to the bed, but some part of my subconscious was aware of a threat. Something real.

  A low-pitched moan cut through the fog of my dreams. In an instant, adrenaline was coursing through my body.

  Something moved off to my right. Driven by pure instinct, I threw myself left. I misjudged the maneuver and slid off the side of the bed. My head cracked the edge of the bedside cabinet, just at the corner of my eye. Stars burst across my vision. My shoulder slammed into the hardwood floor, sending a spike of pain up my arm.

  I scrambled backward until I was pressed against the wall. The moan came again. A dark shadow swayed beside the bed. I pulled the blinds open. It was still dark outside, and the moon was partly shrouded in scraps of cloud, but there was enough light to see the zombie shuffling around the bed toward me.

  Chapter 30

  A Visitor

  I got to my feet, my own unsteadiness mirroring that of the thing shuffling toward me. The zombie wasn’t moving quickly. Nor did it seem to have the fragmentary intelligence that I’d seen in Monstro, but it was still between me and the door. I might make it to the bathroom, but then I’d be trapped. I searched around the room, looking for something I could use as a weapon. The room’s modern, minimalist decoration offered nothing
useful. I considered and dismissed the pillows, then opened the bedside cabinet. The drawers were empty. Not even a bible.

  The zombie caught its knee on the corner of the bed. The impact made it stumble. My eyesight was adjusting to the darkness. The zombie was relatively intact. Its eyes were the familiar black, shark-like orbs, and its skin was pale and gray, but there were no obvious injuries. A fine tracery of veins spread out from a point on its neck. I pushed aside thoughts of what that might mean and focused on the more immediate problem. Survival.

  The door to the bedroom was closed. If I could get past the zombie, I’d have to give myself enough time to get it open and run through before it caught me.

  The zombie groaned. It had regained its balance and was making good progress. A few more seconds and I’d be trapped on this side of the bed. Its mouth was already opening and closing as though it was practicing for the meal it was about to enjoy.

  I tensed, lowering into a slight crouch. The zombie twitched slightly. It took two lumbering steps toward me. The smell of it was stronger than ever, but it wasn’t the stench of death. This was the distinct odor of the street, of someone who lived their entire life in the same set of clothes.

  Sensing its next meal was close, the zombie leaned forward. The shift in weight carried it toward me. I lunged, shoved the zombie, and dived onto the bed. It was an awkward, rolling bounce of an escape, but it worked. I caught myself before I fell off the bed, swung my legs over the side and stood.

  The zombie hadn’t fallen, and it was already clambering onto the bed to come after me. I ran for the door, grabbed the handle and pulled. It was locked. I rattled the handle, pushed then pulled the door again. It held fast.

  As if to remind me it was there, the zombie groaned. Or maybe it was laughing. I stepped back and almost kicked at the door before I realized I was barefoot. My clothes were folded on top of a chair. My boots were stashed underneath, but there was no time to get even one of them on in order to try smashing down the door.

  Unless I wanted to spend the night running around the room trying to keep the bed between me and the zombie, the bathroom was my only real option. I ran inside, closed the door behind me and twisted the lock.

  There were a few supplies under the sink, but no guns or knives. Not even anything that might serve as a knife at a stretch. I briefly considered grabbing the lid from the cistern, but it was too unwieldy. I was as likely to drop it on my feet as I was to kill the zombie with it.

  The zombie thudded into the door. It rattled, but there was no cracking, no splintering of wood. The door seemed solid enough to hold until Cali came to find me in the morning.

  There was no bath in this particular bathroom, just a large rectangular shower. I pulled open the shower door, more out of wanting something to do than any actual plan. The tiles were wet. Droplets of water dripped from the shower head. A small shelf held a cloth, and some shower gel and shampoo, but, again, no weapons. I briefly entertained the idea of smashing the sprinkler set into the ceiling in the hope it would set off some sort of alarm. It was a terrible idea.

  The door thudded again, and this time the rattle was more pronounced. My certainty that the door would hold wavered. I looked back at the shower. Another drip of water fell onto the tiles. The shower head was one of the fixed ones, all glistening chrome. I grabbed it and pulled. It gave slightly. I twisted it back and forth, bending it at the point where the pipe entered the wall. There was a dull snapping sound, and the tiles cracked. A chunk fell to the floor. A split opened up in the pipe, and a dribble of water ran down my arm.

  The door behind me shuddered again, and this time there was the crackle of splintering wood. Visions of the zombie crashing into the bathroom filled my head. I gave one last pull on the shower head, and the pipe tore. I twisted the head and it came away. I had my weapon.

  My enthusiasm quickly evaporated. I’d need to let the zombie in before I could kill it.

  The door rattled once more, accompanied by the familiar moaning. The frame was bulging, and there were splinters near the lock. It wouldn’t be long before the creature broke through. Out of options, I took a deep breath and swung the door open.

  The zombie fell forward into the bathroom. I leaped and drove the ragged point of the shower head into the back of the zombie’s skull. My attack drove the creature forward, and it crashed face first into the side of the shower. Black blood poured from the wound and ran down its back. I stepped away, expecting it to fall, but instead, the zombie turned to face me.

  It advanced across the bathroom. Fine black threads covered the thing’s face. Its jaw was hanging open, and there was thick gray sludge lining its mouth. It moaned. Its head lolled sideways. Then its legs buckled, and it collapsed to the floor. The side of its head slammed into the tile floor with a wet crack. The shower head was still sticking from the back of its skull. I forced it deeper, twisting and grinding—just to be sure. When the pool of thick black blood seeping across the floor reached my feet, I stopped.

  I stumbled, zombie-like, back into the bedroom. My hands were shaking. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a sick feeling.

  I took a deep breath. The zombie hadn’t just wandered into my apartment of its own accord; it couldn’t have. I’d tried the bedroom door. It was locked. I thought of the spider web of black veins beneath the zombie’s skin and the anger I’d seen on Cali’s face.

  Five minutes later, I was dressed, the bedroom’s lock was a splintered mess and I was in the elevator.

  Chapter 31

  Confrontation

  I hammered on the door to Cali’s apartment. Part of me knew confronting her was a bad idea, maybe even dangerous, but my anger and frustration had grown uncontrollably while I’d dressed. I’d always prided myself on my rationality, but all I felt now was an almost incandescent rage.

  Cali opened the door. “Marcus, what—”

  “You want to tell me why you just tried to kill me?”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  I slammed the heel of my hand into the door. She flinched. “One of your pet zombies just attacked me.” I was screaming now, all the frustration of the last few days bubbling over. “What? You thought it would just chow down on me while I was asleep?”

  Cali shook her head, her expression still confused.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. Jon pulled me back. He shoved me hard against the wall and readied his arm to punch me.

  “No!” said Cali. She grabbed his arm and pulled him away. He fought against her. “Jon, it’s okay. I can handle this.”

  He yanked free of her grip. “Cali, I—”

  “I said I can handle this.”

  Jon glared at me over Cali’s shoulder. He wavered for a few seconds, then nodded.

  Cali turned to me. “You want to explain what’s going on?”

  “I was just woken up by a zombie trying to kill me.”

  The look of shock on Cali’s face almost made me rethink my belief that she’d sent it.

  “What! How did it get up—”

  My rage bubbled up again. “It was created.” I jabbed a finger at her. “By you.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but I cut her off again. “I could see the place where you injected it with the serum. You found someone living on the street, brought them up here, infected them, and then locked me in my room so that they could kill me.”

  “Why would she do that?” Jon said.

  “I made her angry. When I turned her down.”

  Cali raised a single eyebrow. “What? You think I…” She shook her head. “You need to get your ego in check, Marcus.” Her voice was icy.

  “I saw you in the elevator, you were angry.”

  “No, I wasn’t. I took a shot, and it didn’t play out. It happens.” Cali’s voice grew louder, more agitated. “You really think I’d try to kill you because you didn’t kiss me?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Rage flooded Cali’s eyes. “I think you’d better leave.”
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br />   Before I could reply, she went back into the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

  Jon grabbed my shoulder. I twisted, pulling my arm back ready to hit him.

  He let go and stepped away, his hands raised.

  We stood there for a few seconds, then he said, “I think you’re right.”

  I looked at him in surprise.

  “She’s become obsessed,” he said. “I indulged her fantasies too much, and now she’s out of control.”

  “You think she tried to kill me?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know for sure, but… probably.”

  The realization of how close I’d gotten to being murdered by a madwoman with a zombie hit me. I leaned back against the wall.

  “What are you going to do?” Jon said.

  “Exactly what she told me to. Leave.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I’m leaving the city, now.” I hadn’t realized I’d made the decision until I’d spoken, but once I had, it felt right.

  Jon nodded. “I can show you a way out.”

  “Thank you, but I still have my pass.”

  “That won’t get you out of the city. Faraday doesn’t let anyone in or out without his permission. So, unless you’re on good terms with him…”

  I let out a bitter laugh.

  “No, I thought not. Get anything you want from the apartment. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten.”

  It took me less than five minutes to grab my scalpels and put some clothes and non-perishable food into a backpack, but Jon was waiting for me when I got downstairs. He was carrying a machete in a thick leather sheath and a pair of flashlights. Without saying a word, he handed me the machete. I nodded my thanks and attached it to my belt.

  Jon led me outside and we cut across the street, heading east toward the water.