Apocalypse

by C. M. Gray

  Tears pricked my eyes. Corvus lay in a little heap of feathers on the floor of the church. He was dead now, not undead. And it was my fault.

  ‘Go!’ Mr Bill shoved me roughly. We hurried down the central aisle, between the rows of pews, and climbed the stairs to the altar in silence.

  My legs shook as I fought the anger and despair that threatened to overwhelm me. I wanted nothing more than to attack this man, to tear him apart with my bare hands. But if I did, if I somehow managed to kill him, I’d also be killing the part of me that was still human, because with his death, I’d be transformed into a full zombie — one of those lurching, brainless idiots. So if I couldn’t kill him, what could I do? Possibilities raced through my mind as I led the way to the front of the church. There, in the floor, was a trapdoor.

  ‘Open it.’

  I pulled the metal ring and swung the wooden door up. Inside, a set of stairs curved downward in a spiral. I hesitated then began to climb down. Very soon, we arrived at a long, narrow chamber. On either side, a row of stone coffins lined the walls.

  ‘Our kind,’ said Mr Bill, gesturing toward them. ‘I buried them here.’

  That surprised me. I didn’t think Mr Bill cared about his followers.

  ‘Not for any sentimental reason, you understand,’ he added, striding along beside one row of coffins. He ran his walking stick across the end of each one so that it tapped then dragged against the stone before jumping to the next. Tap . . . drag . . . tap . . . drag . . . ‘I simply didn’t want any last bits of them reanimating. It wouldn’t do me any good if an arm dug itself out of a grave or if half a zombie dragged itself through the middle of town. The stone coffins cannot be opened from the inside, even by us.’

  I gulped. From inside the coffins he’d tapped, there came a growing noise. Something banged — bone against stone — and then there was a chorus of moans.

  Mr Bill cupped his hand around one ear. ‘They want to get out. They want to hunt. They want to consume flesh. Shall we release them? They may be useful during the final battle.’

  I tried not to shudder. The last thing I wanted was bits and pieces of dead people creeping around.

  ‘Oh, go on!’ a voice echoed out of the nearest coffin. ‘Let us out, then!’

  Was one of the zombies talking? I wasn’t sure if that made it worse or better! I backed away. ‘Are they alive?’

  ‘They’re undead, which means they’re alive. Sort of.’ Mr Bill reached toward a small lever that jutted out of the wall. ‘You’re a zombie and you can talk. Why would they be any different?’

  Another voice drifted out of a different coffin. ‘Did you bring us some dinner? I’m starving.’

  ‘The trouble is,’ added Mr Bill, ‘sometimes you’d rather they didn’t speak.’

  ‘I fancy a nice tender bit of leg, myself,’ said another.

  ‘I’ll take an arm. I’m not fussy.’

  ‘Braaaiinnsss.’

  ‘There goes Samuel again, always banging on about brains. There’s more to death than brains, Sam!’ snapped Mr Bill.

  A voice in the coffin nearest to us sighed. ‘Come on! We haven’t got forever!’

  ‘Actually, you have got forever, but I won’t make you wait that long.’ Mr Bill pulled the lever.

  There was the sound of stone grinding on stone as the coffin lids began to pivot to one side. The scratching noises from inside the coffins grew more frantic. The moaning grew loud enough to echo off the bare walls around us. Chills danced across my skin. If the ancient zombies were released from their coffins, I was doomed. We were all doomed!

  Now was my chance! I bolted toward the stairs. If I could escape into the church, perhaps I’d be able to block the door from above! I could lock Mr Bill inside this underground chamber forever. It would be his tomb!

  But before I’d reached the stairs, the undead creatures had clawed their way out of their coffins and in moments I was surrounded. Some of them were nothing more than skeletons topped by skulls, with snapping jaws and vacant eye sockets. Some of them still had ancient rags dangling from their thin frames. But the worst ones had ribbons of rotting flesh trailing along on the ground behind them like streamers.

  I backed against the wall as they lurched toward me. A few of them were missing the lower half of their bodies but that didn’t stop them; they dragged themselves forward using their arms.

  The cold stone wall behind me dug deeper into my back. There was nowhere to go. I was trapped!

  ‘It’s not personal,’ rasped one of them. One of its eye sockets was empty. From the other, an eyeball dangled on a long red tendon. ‘I mean, it’s not as if we don’t like you or anything. We’re just really, really hungry.’

  In desperation, I searched for a weapon, but there was nothing — nothing except the zombies themselves. Suddenly, a skeletal hand grabbed at my face. I ducked and the zombie toppled sideways. As it fell, I seized one of its legs and gave it a yank. The smooth, pale bone tore away from the knee joint.

  ‘Ouch! That really hurt!’ said the zombie, clutching his stump.

  I held the bone up like a baseball bat. ‘Get back or I’ll hit you — with your own leg!’

  ‘That’s a bit rude, isn’t it? I thought these warm-bloods were supposed to be polite,’ said the zombie with the dangling eyeball.

  ‘Not this one,’ said another. He had no eyelids at all. His bare eyeballs stared unblinkingly at me. ‘He needs to learn some manners.’

  They attacked again, lurching toward me with their arms out, their eerie moans echoing around the underground chamber.

  ‘AAAGGHH!’ I swung the bone at their skulls. A few of them crumpled to the ground but even that didn’t stop them for long: their bony hands crept up my feet and grasped my ankles, dragging me down.

  ‘Get back!’ I swung this way and that with the bone. Now I was desperate to escape. I knocked a skull off a pair of bony shoulders then shoved another two zombies out of the way with the end of the leg bone. On one side, a pathway had opened up through the horde, but it led to the rear of the chamber. If I went that way, I’d be trapped further back. But I had no other choice.

  I bolted through the crowd of zombies, swinging the bone like a club. It was a relief to be away from their grasping hands and snapping teeth.

  ‘You are only a half zombie!’ Mr Bill’s cold voice rang out. ‘There’s still enough warm, human blood running through your veins to spark their interest. If you were a full zombie like me, they would know you were one of us and ignore you.’

  With my back pressed against the wall, the zombies lurched slowly toward me again. This time, there was nowhere else to run. In desperation, I turned and banged my fists on the stones.

  Something clattered from my pocket to the floor at my feet. Sophie’s torch! I snatched it up. If there was one thing zombies didn’t like, it was bright light.

  Desperately, I turned to face the oncoming zombies. ‘Please, battery, don’t be dead!’ I whispered as I pressed my thumb down on the small, round button.

  Click.

  16

  Bright light flooded the crypt.

  ‘AAAGGGHHH!’ screamed the zombie on the floor, one of its bony hands dropping from my ankle.

  The others shrank back.

  ‘Fair go!’ cried the zombie with no eyelids, shielding his face from the glare.

  ‘That’s not very nice, is it?’ snapped the one with the dangling eyeball. With a skeletal hand, he shoved the eyeball into his vest pocket. ‘Now I can’t see a thing.’

  ‘We’ve done nothing but welcome you down here with open arms . . .’ began the one whose leg bone I still clutched.

  ‘And mouths,’ added someone else.

  ‘Yeah, and mouths! And this is how you repay us?!’

  They shuffled back, shielding their eyes from the beam.

  ‘Attack him!’ yelled Mr Bill, furiously stabbing the air with his cane. ‘KILL him!’

  But the zombies shrank away from the light.

  ‘Look, i
t’s all very well to go around shouting things like “attack” and “kill”,’ said another zombie. This one had no legs and was dragging itself slowly across the floor with its arms. ‘But it’s a lot easier said than done.’

  ‘I’m not sure if he’s worth the trouble. Rude, he is,’ added the one with no eyelids. ‘Think I’ll just snuggle back inside my nice comfy coffin . . .’

  ‘Me too,’ added another. ‘We can nod off for a few more years. Another warm-blood will show up eventually. Could you trouble yourself to shut the lid, Sam?’

  ‘BRAAIIINNNSSS!’ said Sam, lurching mindlessly around. He stumbled and fell into one of the coffins.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ snapped the one with the eyeball in his pocket. He lifted his eye so it was just peeping over the rim. ‘Thank goodness I died before electricity was invented.’ He pulled the lever on the wall and hurried back to his coffin, slipping inside just as the lids closed. And just like that, there was only me and Mr Bill in the room again.

  There was an awkward moment of silence.

  ‘Well, that was a great disappointment,’ said Mr Bill. ‘Luckily, I have a plan B.’

  Just as my brain kicked back into gear and I lunged for the doorway, Mr Bill strode toward me, a weapon clutched in his outstretched hand. I recognised it instantly.

  ‘I thought that was a joke,’ I said, staring at the familiar dart gun.

  Mr Bill gave another thin, humourless grin. ‘It’s no joke. You’ll remember that one of my servants was a chemist. Believe it or not, he used to work for HAZMAT. While he was there, he discovered a cure for the zombie virus. He managed to make a few doses, but they were used on the captured zombies. All that remained were the two vials he brought with him.’

  ‘Why would he leave HAZMAT?’ I tried to stall for time, sneaking glances around the crypt. There must be something I could use . . .

  ‘He was a smart man. He knew there was more power in turning people into zombies than curing them. HAZMAT were already watching Seabrook, so it wasn’t difficult for him to find me. I set him up in the tunnels, you remember, and he began his experiments with animals. But he was so slow that I got tired of waiting! I was pleased when you got rid of him; it saved me the trouble.’

  ‘But why did you—’

  ‘That’s enough about the past. Once you are gone, your family will discover exactly what it’s like to be infected. Their new life awaits — or should I say their new death?’

  He raised the gun so that it pointed directly at my heart.

  Then he pulled the trigger.

  17

  I felt the antidote flooding my veins as I collapsed to my knees. I had tried to dive out of the way but I wasn’t quick enough — the dart protruded from my shoulder.

  It felt like I’d been struck by lightning as hot and cold shockwaves ran through my body. The edges of my vision went dark, like I was standing at the entrance to a long tunnel. Then, suddenly, the darkness swallowed me up and the last thing I saw was Mr Bill leaning over me.

  When I opened my eyes, I was lying on my back. Mr Bill was poking my stomach with his walking stick. The dart gun was still in his hand but I noticed the vial was again filled with blue liquid. He must’ve reloaded.

  ‘Aha! You are awake. I thought the antidote might have killed you.’

  I felt incredibly weak. Had my legs always been this slow and heavy? Waves of nausea washed over me. Without my infrared vision, I could barely see. Somehow, I managed to stagger to my feet. So this was what it was like to be human? I’d almost forgotten how small and weak I used to feel!

  As though he’d read my thoughts, Mr Bill said, ‘What a shock it must be! To be transformed from a creature with immense power back into a normal, weak little boy. Now you cannot defeat me! Of course, I thought about killing you while you lay there. It would have been so easy. I could’ve done it with the most basic of weapons! Take this stick.’ He tossed his cane into the air and caught it again. ‘I’ve carried it for so long it’s like an extra limb. People expect an old man like me to need one. They see me from a distance and they think, now there’s a helpless old man. But what they don’t know is this: I’ve got no more need of a walking stick than you do. In fact, this isn’t a walking stick at all. It’s a very clever replica. The end has been hollowed out and filled with molten lead.’

  Mr Bill tossed the stick higher into the air and caught the bottom end of it. He began twirling it so the heavy knob at the end swung around and around as he strode toward me.

  Whoosh . . . whoosh . . . whoosh . . .

  ‘In fact, this cane is really a club. I can crack a human’s skull without breaking a sweat. And the best thing is that I’m so used to handling it, it’s almost an extension of my arm.’

  In the dark, I didn’t see it coming. The knob shot out and hit me just under my right eye. ‘AAAGGHH!’ I stumbled back and nearly fell.

  ‘You see how effective it is, Ben?’ His footsteps tapped on the flagstones as he strolled around me.

  I turned with the sound. My streaming eye made it even harder to see, but the last thing I wanted was this guy behind my back!

  ‘You can’t fight me now, can you?’ He was in front of me again. ‘In fact, you can barely see me.’

  ‘AAGGHH!’ This time, the stick hit my shoulder — my whole arm went numb. My knees buckled. I swayed from the effort of remaining upright.

  Mr Bill frowned, tossing the stick from hand to hand. ‘You know, I was expecting so much more than this. Oh, I know you’ve defeated a couple of my servants in the past. But I can only assume they were careless. Or perhaps stupid. Either way, I think that in getting rid of them, you might have done me a favour. But I have no wish to beat you to death. That would be a waste. Instead, you can be useful, even in your final moments.’

  He shoved me toward the stairs. I felt sick as I stumbled up them. What was he going to do with me? How would I stop the apocalypse if I couldn’t even save myself?

  We climbed through the trapdoor. Moonlight crept in through the stained-glass windows, scattering coloured beams across the floor. Something moved in the darkness in front of me, but without infrared vision, I couldn’t make out more than a vague shadow.

  ‘Shut the trapdoor,’ snapped Mr Bill, and when I’d slammed it shut, he prodded me with the end of the cane, forcing me to walk down the aisle.

  ‘When I first brought you here, I planned to kill you, but then I realised you could serve a much higher purpose. You see, after the people of Seabrook are transformed, they will need to eat flesh. And who will I offer them?’ He gave a short laugh. We were almost at the doors now. ‘Who better than you?! What poetic justice! You, who have battled me from the beginning, will be the one to transform them from half zombies into the first fully fledged members of my zombie army!’

  So that was his plan! He couldn’t force me to attack my friends, so now he was going to make them attack me!

  There was a flurry of movement to the side of the door. The shadow I’d seen earlier formed into a shape as two glowing red eyes appeared in the gloom. Corvus! He wasn’t dead — he was undead!

  Mr Bill spun around just as the bird launched himself toward us. The black wings flapped once . . . twice . . . then Corvus was suddenly on top of Mr Bill’s head, clawing at his face.

  ‘AAAGGGHHH!’ Mr Bill ducked and flailed and toppled over.

  I lunged at the dart gun, my hands closing over Mr Bill’s ancient, bony claws. He was stronger than he looked, but I was determined. I twisted the gun out of his grip and backed away.

  ‘Stop! Don’t shoot!’ Mr Bill clambered to his feet, coughing and wheezing. ‘Where’s my stick? I can’t stand without it.’

  ‘Yes, you can.’

  ‘No! I really can’t. You’ve hurt my leg.’

  There was no way I wanted him to get his stick back. I spied it on the ground, just out of his reach. And mine.

  ‘You’re not frightened of an old man like me, are you?’ He gave a little laugh that sounded like a door crea
king shut. He dragged himself forward slowly, his eyes darting to the stick.

  ‘Stay where you are!’ In fact, I was frightened. The guy was a maniac!

  ‘Don’t shoot me! I don’t want to die!’ he wheedled as he staggered to his feet and reached for his stick. I tried to kick it away, but it was too late. In one swift movement, he snatched it up, swung it above his head and charged at me.

  ‘You’re already dead!’ I shouted as I shot him. The dart flew out and hit him in the middle of his chest.

  The stick clattered to the floor as he crumpled onto the tiles. ‘What have you done?’ His thin hands snatched and tore at his clothes until they found the dart. He yanked it out, but as he tossed it away, I could see the small vial was empty. The antidote had found its mark.

  ‘What have you done?!’ he cried again. His hands twitched then lay still. He stared up at me as his skin grew whiter and the hollows in his cheeks deepened. His flesh drew in tightly over his bones so that it appeared as though I was staring down at a skull. Beneath his clothes, his body seemed to shrink.

  He let out a wail and suddenly his red eyes faded, flashed and faded once more, before disappearing to crimson pin-pricks and finally, flickering out. His flesh sagged on his bones. It fell away into strips that dropped to the ground and vanished, as though swallowed by the church floor. In moments, I was gazing down at a skeleton.

  Mr Bill was gone.

  18

  I stayed there for a while. It might have been seconds or minutes; I could no longer tell.

  I was shaken out of my reverie by the doors of the church, which gave a loud creak as they were flung open. Sophie appeared out of the gloom. She raced over and flung her arms around my neck, which was kinda uncomfortable ’cause she has loads of hair and most of it seemed to get in my mouth. ‘I was so worried about you!’