by Darren Shan
Dr. Oystein also worked hard to develop a virus that would eliminate every last living survivor, but leave the undead and mutants intact.
“Perversely, I had an easy time developing the opposite of what I was after.” He chuckles wryly. “For once I got the jump on my brother. While he struggled to make a virus that would destroy all zombies, I cracked that formula quite quickly.”
“So you lied about creating the human virus first?”
“Yes. Initially I produced a pure, virulent sample of the zombie-killing virus.” He sighs. “Unfortunately that led to a savage row with Albrecht when he…”
The doc stops. Owl Man’s dog, Sakarias, has risen suddenly and is facing the door, growling softly. As Dr. Oystein’s head turns, I open my mouth to roar, hoping to create a disturbance that I can take advantage of. But before I can scream, Owl Man hisses, “Be quiet.” And my lips are sealed.
We stare at the door. There are footsteps outside, drawing nearer. Owl Man and Rage step up beside Dr. Oystein, who has gotten to his feet. They weren’t expecting this. If it’s bad news for them, surely it can only be good news for me. Or so I tell myself.
“Probably just zombies,” Rage whispers.
Owl Man shakes his head. “Sakarias does not react to the undead.”
“Angels?” Rage guesses.
This time it’s Dr. Oystein who shakes his head. “I dismissed all of my people from the area before I summoned Zachary to help me find B.”
“Maybe it’s Santa Claus,” Rage jokes, but uncle and nephew are in no mood for levity. I expect them to produce weapons, but they just stand there, staring, Owl Man gently squeezing the back of Sakarias’s neck to stop the dog from growling.
The footsteps come nearer… nearer… and stop just outside. Dr. Oystein didn’t close the door when he entered—a schoolboy error, though I suppose he didn’t think he had anything to fear. Whoever’s out there can see the light shining within. There’s a pause and hushed muttering, then the door’s pushed open and three people are revealed on the pavement, and they’re neither living nor undead—they’re a few of Mr. Dowling’s mutants.
THREE
The mutants bear the marks of all of their kind. Ruined, purplish, pustulent flesh, strips of it peeling away in places. Gray hair, yellow eyes, blackened teeth, with gaps in their gums where some have fallen out. Two of them are men. The other is a girl, maybe a couple of years older than me.
They seem as shocked by our appearance as we are by theirs. I don’t know what they were expecting to find–maybe they were searching for me–but I doubt they ever dreamed of stumbling upon their archenemy, Dr. Oystein.
The mutants gape at us, blinking dumbly. Then, before they can recover their senses, Owl Man says to Sakarias, “Attack.”
The sheepdog bounds forward with a howl of vicious pleasure, baring its fangs, claws extending from its paws. I’ve seen the dog in action before. It’s a dangerous opponent if you know what to anticipate, but even deadlier if it catches you unaware. The mutants weren’t expecting the fangs and claws. They’re not sure what to make of the animal barreling towards them. And those few seconds of confusion damn them to defeat before the battle has properly started.
Sakarias leaps at the nearest mutant–one of the men–and drives him to the ground. As he lands with a startled cry, the dog whips its right paw across his throat. The claws tear the mutant’s throat to ribbons and blood spurts into the air.
Sakarias doesn’t wait around to wallow in the gushing blood. Instead, as the second man scrabbles for a weapon, the dog hurls itself into the air again, and this time strikes with its fangs. It clamps them around the man’s face and crushes it, and the mutant’s screams as his cheeks implode are terrible and piercing.
The girl turns to flee, but Owl Man calls to her. “If you try to run, you’ll die.”
She looks back, eyes wide with fear. Sakarias finishes with the second man–the first is still thrashing, but will soon be as dead as the one who is now missing a face–and its back legs tense as it prepares to spring again.
“Hold, old friend,” Owl Man says, and the dog relaxes immediately, though it doesn’t retract its fangs or claws.
The girl blinks at the dog, then at Owl Man.
“I’ve seen you before,” Owl Man says, stepping up to the doorway and looking left and right outside. “It’s Claudia, isn’t it?”
The girl gulps and nods. “I’ve seen you too,” she says. “You were at the wedding.”
Owl Man sighs. “That was one of my happier recent days. What a shame the honeymoon had to end like this.” He steps back inside and beckons her forward. She blanches but obeys, veering round Sakarias, who is still on the pavement, studying her intently, waiting for the order to pounce.
“What are you doing here?” Owl Man asks the girl, now standing just inside the entrance, trembling uncontrollably.
“Searching for her,” Claudia says, nodding at me. “Teams of us have been looking all over London for that cow. She assaulted our leader. Tried to kill him. We want her back so she can answer for her crimes.”
I try to respond to that, but I can’t say anything. Owl Man hasn’t given me clearance to speak yet.
“We saw some Angels on the prowl in this area earlier,” Claudia continues. “We reported back. Mr. Dowling is busy in County Hall, hunting for you,” she says, pointing to Dr. Oystein. “He thinks you’re still in there. He’s been tearing the place apart, looking for secret hidey-holes.”
“He will have a long and fruitless search,” Dr. Oystein says with satisfaction.
“He killed all the Angels you left behind,” Claudia jeers.
The doc stiffens, then sighs. “That is no surprise to me. What did your master say when you reported seeing Angels in the East End?”
“Nothing,” she smirks. “He’s not one for words. But Kinslow told us to stick around and see what they were up to. When they pulled out, we called in again. He said to give the area a quick once-over, but didn’t seem to think too much of it. If he’d had any idea that you were here…” She points to Dr. Oystein again.
“So you’re on your own,” Owl Man notes.
“I am now,” Claudia says. With an effort, she stops herself from trembling. “So you might as well go ahead and kill me if you can, but don’t think I’ll make it easy for you. I don’t have fangs like your dog, but I pack a mean old bite all the same.”
“I’m sure you do,” Owl Man smiles. Then the smile fades and he thinks about it for a few seconds. “I’d rather not put you to the test, Claudia.”
“Zachary…” Dr. Oystein murmurs.
“No,” Owl Man replies. “There has been enough bloodshed. I know there must be more before this is through, but let’s not kill those we can afford to spare. You and I are monsters, but we have to draw the line somewhere. Let’s draw it here.”
Dr. Oystein looks troubled, but he nods reluctantly.
Owl Man turns to the girl again. “Leave your walkie-talkie,” he says. “Return to County Hall. Tell Mr. Dowling that you found me with Becky Smith and Dr. Oystein.”
“Don’t forget to mention me too,” Rage quips, but everyone ignores him.
“Tell him it’s over,” Owl Man continues. “The outcome has been decided, since we have Becky Smith and what she stole from him. Ask him to return to his base. I’ll come to meet with him later, to discuss the future and accept my execution at his hands if he wishes to punish me for siding with his most bitter enemy.”
“You think he’ll believe that?” Claudia snorts.
Owl Man shrugs. “I’ve already won, so why would I lie?”
Claudia chews at her lip uncertainly.
“The alternative is taking your chances with Sakarias,” Owl Man murmurs, and she trembles again when the dog growls at the mention of its name.
“Here,” she spits, throwing a walkie-talkie to the floor. “And I hope you all rot in Hell for what you’ve done.”
With that, she steps outside, gives Sakarias
the evil eye, spares a sad glance for her fallen colleagues, then takes off into the night without looking back.
FOUR
“You have a soft heart, nephew,” Dr. Oystein whispers.
Rage snorts but says nothing. I have plenty to say but I can’t, so I just roll my eyes.
“It won’t matter much in the grand scheme of things,” Owl Man sighs, “but it’s better to spare a life than take it. And perhaps my father will calm down when Claudia carries news of this back to him. Knowing he’s defeated, maybe he’ll retreat to his base as requested, where he can do no further damage.”
“Or maybe he’ll tear through the streets of London and kill everyone he can find before the chance is denied him,” Dr. Oystein notes.
“Maybe,” Owl Man says glumly. “There’s never any telling for certain with him.”
The men–uncle and nephew, the lord of destruction and his heir–stare at the corpses on the street for a while, as if thinking of all the bodies they’ve been responsible for over the years. Then Sakarias whines and nudges Owl Man’s legs, looking for permission to chow down.
“No,” he says, snapping back into the present. “We don’t have time for that. We must press on. There might be other mutants in the area. If Claudia finds them and they use their walkie-talkies to summon Mr. Dowling…”
“You should have thought about that before you let her waltz out of here,” Rage says, but Owl Man ignores the jibe and looks questioningly at Dr. Oystein.
The doc is silent for a few more seconds, lost in his memories. Then he sniffs and starts for the front door. “Come,” he says.
“Where?” Owl Man asks.
“My laboratory. It will be a fitting venue for the final revelations.”
“If I might make a suggestion?” Owl Man murmurs. “The streets are not secure. There’s a boat out back. It would make more sense to use that.”
“But it’s only a short distance,” Dr. Oystein says.
“The final stretch can sometimes be the most treacherous,” Owl Man replies. “We don’t want to run any unnecessary risks this close to ultimate victory.”
“A bit late to be thinking about that now,” Rage snorts, but again Owl Man ignores him.
Dr. Oystein nods thoughtfully. “You are right as usual, Zachary. Besides, it is a fine night for a trip down the river. Lead the way, please, Rage.”
“My pleasure, cap’n,” Rage grins. “But I still think it was madness letting the girl go.”
“Is there no room for compassion in your heart?” Dr. Oystein asks tetchily.
“Not since I found out that the so-called savior of the world was a traitor and a hypocrite,” Rage says cheerfully, and the doc looks like he wants to cry when he hears that.
“Come, Becky,” Owl Man says, extending a hand to help me to my feet. “You may move about again, but I forbid you to attack Dr. Oystein, myself or any of our associates.”
I ignore his hand and push myself to my feet. I try to throw a punch at him, but every muscle in my arm tenses at the thought. I try to lean over and bite into his throat, but my legs take root and my jaw clamps shut. Scowling, I accept the limits that he’s placed on me and point to my lips instead.
“What?” he asks. Then he remembers and laughs. “Oh, I see. Yes, you can talk again too.”
“You no-good, worthless son of a–” I start to yell.
“But softly,” Owl Man stops me. “And no swearing or vile threats.”
I snarl at him, then push past in disgust, heading out back where Rage is waiting. Just before I exit, I pause and glance at Barnes, lying dead on the floor in a congealing pool of blood. I feel angry, guilty and helpless. There’s so much I want to say to him, but all I can manage is a weak, worthless, “Sorry.”
Rage helps me down into the small boat moored outside, acting like the gentleman he isn’t. I wince as I climb in. My energy has dwindled and the pain is kicking in hard again. Dr. Oystein notices my discomfort.
“Do you still have the syringes that you took from me?” he asks.
I’d almost forgotten about those. He brought three syringes to the brewery, each filled with a concentrated version of the energizing gloop from the Groove Tubes. He injected me with the contents of one. I took the other two in case I needed them later.
“I left them on the counter,” I tell him.
“Rage, would you be so good as to fetch them for us?” Dr. Oystein asks.
“Anything to oblige,” Rage says, and shoots back into the bar. He returns with the syringes a moment later and passes them to the doc. He prepares one and gestures for me to extend my arm.
“I can do it myself,” I grunt, reaching for the syringe.
Dr. Oystein shakes his head. “A syringe can be a weapon. Alas, I know that better than most. Let me do this for you, B. It’s not that I don’t trust my nephew’s hypnotic spell, but you’re a resourceful girl and I worry that you might find a way to countermand his orders.”
I make a face, wishing I could take the syringe and plunge the tip of the needle into the doc’s eyeball, then slip overboard in the confusion. But Owl Man’s hold over me is total and, regardless of the doc’s high opinion of me, I’m not that resourceful.
I’m still in the tattered remains of my wedding dress, which doesn’t have any sleeves, so I simply stick out my arm and look away glumly. As Dr. Oystein injects me, Rage casts off and we drift out into the center of the river. There’s an engine on the boat, but he doesn’t start it. I suppose they don’t want to draw unwelcome attention.
“Where to, doc?” Rage asks breezily.
“East,” Dr. Oystein grunts, telling Rage no more than he needs to, clearly suspicious of him. Rage might be all sweetness and light now, but we know from past experience that he can change sides whenever it suits him.
Rage picks up the oars that were lying on the floor of the boat, moves to the front and starts rowing, slowly, making as little noise as possible. Sakarias looks over the side, studying its reflection. It barks softly, leans farther over and laps at the water, then settles back beside its master. The dog is close to me too, so I run my hands through its fur, finding comfort in that.
Dr. Oystein’s gaze is distant for a while, as it was in the pub. Then he smiles wearily and returns to the story that he was telling before we were interrupted. “Albrecht was unaware of my true intentions for a long time. We worked as a team for many years. I trusted him completely and he trusted me.
“Our most crucial work was conducted in private. We were wary of allowing others access to our secrets. Zachary was the first outsider we let into our world. We trusted him because he was family, the one surviving child of Albrecht’s.”
“But you told us you had nothing to do with your nephew after the war,” I note, remembering the doc’s original story.
Dr. Oystein sighs. “We had not planned to involve him. He’d been adopted by an English family, which is how he came to be named Tom White. We thought he would be safer if we steered clear of him. For years we let him lead his own life.
“Then Zachary began conducting his own genetic experiments. The acorn, as the saying goes, had not fallen far from the tree. While his work had nothing to do with zombies, we could see that he would be of great value to us. We were sure he could help us unlock puzzles which had previously hindered our research.”
“You’re too kind,” Owl Man mutters. “You would have advanced without me.”
“Probably.” Dr. Oystein smiles. “Zachary was intrigued when we introduced him to our work, hiring him without revealing ourselves. Later, when we met and told him who we were, that interest became a passion and he dedicated himself to our cause. We felt like a family again. It was a joyful, exciting time.
“Then Albrecht learned that I had developed the zombie-killing virus.”
Dr. Oystein’s features cloud over and he starts rubbing Sakarias too. The dog pants happily, delighted with all the attention.
“He was furious,” the doc whispers. “He could n
ot understand why I had kept such a thing from him.”
Oystein tried to explain it to his angry brother. He told Albrecht that he felt their mission was to cleanse this planet of the living and install the babies in their place. Albrecht thought that Oystein was crazy. (And he wasn’t wrong there!) He told his brother to give him the virus, so that he could release it. Oystein refused to hand over his precious vial. He wouldn’t even tell Albrecht where it was stored. The brothers argued fiercely and eventually came to blows.
Oystein wasn’t a natural fighter, whereas Albrecht had boxed to a high amateur standard in his youth. While it was by no means one-sided, Albrecht started to get the better of his desperate brother, so Oystein resorted to dirty tactics.
“We were in Albrecht’s part of the laboratory,” the doc says. “He threw me against a cabinet. The glass shattered. There were bottles and syringes inside. I tossed a few bottles at him, but he swatted them aside. As he moved in to attack again, I grabbed the nearest needle and jabbed it into his throat. I meant only to wound him, to buy time and space for myself. But I instinctively pressed down on the plunger and injected him with whatever was in the syringe.”
The doc falls silent again, but this time shows no signs of recovering his voice. His fingers withdraw from the dog’s fur and settle on his knees, where they curl into talons of remorse.
Owl Man takes up the story. “My father had developed various strains of the mutant gene. Oystein and I had been involved in some of the experiments, but most were a mystery to us. The liquid in the syringe didn’t kill Albrecht, but left him in an in-between state, not undead but not truly alive either. It also dissolved many of the cells inside my father’s brain, driving him to madness.”
Rage hoots with delight. “You mean Mr. Dowling’s a nutter because of what the doc did to him?”
