by Darren Shan
‘Sod this,’ I pant, knowing my number’s up if I don’t act swiftly.
Wriggling free of the rucksack, I rip it open and start throwing slivers of brain around, as if it was some weird kind of confetti. When the zombies spot the grey chunks, they go wild, but now they’re concentrating on the bits of brain, trying to catch them as I toss them about, emptying the rucksack as quickly as I can.
When the rucksack is clean, I let it drop and fall still, letting the zombies see that I’m not trying to escape, that I have no need to run, that I’m the same as them.
A few of the reviveds sniff me suspiciously, growling like dogs, but then they leave me be and tear the remains of the rucksack to shreds, trying to squeeze out any last morsels of brain that might be hidden in the folds.
I look up at Master Zhang, shamefully, as the zombies part around me, but he’s following Rage, no longer interested in me. I think about heading back to County Hall, or maybe just slipping away completely, figuring that’s the end of my career as an Angel. But I want to see what happens to Rage. I’m hoping he’ll brick it like I did and cast his rucksack aside.
But Rage is like a wrecking ball. The zombies slow him down, but they can’t stop him. He slaps them back with the arm, punches and kicks them when the arm is no longer any good, sticks his head down and forces his way forward, refusing to accept defeat. I almost cheer on the rampaging brute, but then I recall how he killed Dr Cerveris and deserted the rest of the zom heads, and I hold my tongue.
He finally makes it to the end of the concourse and squeezes through the exit. As soon as he’s out, he tears off the rucksack and lobs it back inside the station. The reviveds scurry after it, quickly losing interest in him, as they lost it in me.
‘Now that was fun,’ Rage grins as we join him outside. He wipes blood – not his own – from his face. ‘I guess some of us have what it takes, Becky, and some of us don’t.’
‘Bite me,’ I snarl, then cast a miserable look at Master Zhang. ‘I guess this means I’ve had it.’
‘Not at all,’ he says, surprising both of us.
‘What are you talking about?’ Rage snaps. ‘She failed.’
‘No,’ Zhang says. ‘The test is designed to measure one’s bravery, ingenuity and strength, but also one’s level of common sense. Almost no novice Angel has made it all the way across the concourse. In fact you are only the third, and the other two made it with cunning and speed, not sheer muscle power.’
‘Sweet!’ Rage beams, thrilled with himself.
‘So . . . I didn’t fail?’ I frown.
‘No. You showed that you were willing to face adversity, and you handled yourself well. In fact you made it further than most. But just as importantly, when you realised you could go no further, you were sensible enough to rid yourself of the beacon which was attracting the reviveds. Those who fail are those who break too early with fear, or those who lack the wit to throw away the rucksack.’
‘Then I did better than Rage, in a way,’ I joke.
‘In your dreams,’ Rage grunts.
‘There is no better or worse in my eyes,’ Master Zhang says. ‘You both passed. That is the end of the matter.’
With that, he heads back to County Hall, but circles round the rear of the station this time, rather than return through the concourse. Rage slides up beside me as we trail our mentor. He points to himself and says, ‘One of three.’ Then he points to me and says, ‘One of who cares?’
He laughs and moves on before I can reply, leaving me to scowl angrily at his back with a mixture of hatred, jealousy and grudging respect.
NINETEEN
Master Zhang leads Rage and me back to the room in County Hall where I was training earlier. He says that since he has both of us with him, he will train with the pair of us for the rest of the session.
I get excited when I hear that. After passing our Waterloo-based test, I assume that we’re ready to move on, that he’ll start teaching us complicated moves. But it’s business as usual, the only change being that he now takes turns to throw us to the floor. I’m pleased to see that Rage is treated the same way I am, but disappointed that Master Zhang isn’t taking us a few stages further forward.
We’ve been back about an hour when the door opens and Dr Oystein steps into the room. He’s not alone. Ashtat, Carl, Shane and Jakob are with him, as well as a man I recognise but didn’t expect to see here.
‘Mr Burke?’ I gasp.
‘Hello again, B,’ my ex-teacher says, as our training draws to a halt. ‘We seem to keep meeting in the strangest of places, don’t we?’
As I gawp at my old teacher, I recall what Reilly said about seeing someone he knew with a pack of Angels after he’d deserted the army following the riots in the underground complex, and it starts to make sense.
Billy Burke had worked in the complex with Reilly, but he’d never seemed to fit in with the soldiers and scientists. Of them all, only he truly cared about the welfare of the zom heads. That was why they’d recruited him, to help them with the sometimes rebellious teenagers.
I should have figured this out before. Having severed his ties with the army, Reilly wouldn’t have wanted to approach any of his old crew. Burke was different. Reilly wouldn’t have considered him the same as the others. He’d have felt he could trust the compassionate counsellor.
‘Josh told me he’d released you,’ Burke says as I stand, staring at him silently. ‘I was hoping you’d find your way here. That’s why I passed on your description to Dr Oystein.’
I frown. ‘You told the doc about me?’
‘Yes,’ Dr Oystein answers. ‘That is how I knew your name when you first came here, and some of your background.’
I scratch my ear. ‘I thought Reilly spotted me on the cameras and told you.’
The doctor shakes his head. ‘No. It was Billy.’
‘Well . . . thanks . . . I guess,’ I mutter, lowering my hand.
‘It is good to see you again, B,’ Dr Oystein says. ‘You have settled in nicely, I hear.’
‘I’m doing all right,’ I sniff.
‘Zhang,’ Dr Oystein says, bowing towards our mentor.
Master Zhang bows in return.
‘How did our pair of fledgling Angels fare with their test earlier?’ Dr Oystein asks.
‘They passed,’ Zhang says simply, giving us no more credit than that.
‘I told you they would,’ Burke smiles. ‘They’re a rare pair, those two.’
‘Some of us are rarer than others,’ Rage says, cocking an eyebrow at me.
‘Why don’t you shut up for once?’ I snarl.
‘Who’s gonna make me?’ Rage growls, squaring up to me.
‘I would rather you did not fight,’ Dr Oystein says quietly, and Rage immediately goes all sheepish and shuffles his feet.
‘Sorry,’ he mutters.
‘Oh, isn’t he a good boy,’ I coo, then spit with contempt, which isn’t easy with my dry mouth. ‘Don’t trust him, Dr Oystein. He’s only buttering you up to make you like him, the same way he did with Dr Cerveris.’
‘Why should I?’ Rage counters. ‘Dr Oystein hasn’t tried to cage me up like those other buggers did. I’m free to leave whenever I please.’
‘And you will,’ I snort. ‘When it suits you. And you’ll probably kill a few of us along the way, just for the hell of it.’
Rage shrugs and turns to Dr Oystein. ‘I told you, when I saw her in the lab, that she’d have nothing good to say about me.’
‘Yes, you did,’ the doctor nods. ‘And B has warned us to be wary of you. I have chosen to ignore both of your opinions, so please save your bickering for another time. You are going to be room-mates, so you will have plenty of –’
‘You’re not sticking him in with us!’ I shout.
‘Please, B, there is no need to raise your voice.’
‘But –’
‘Please,’ Dr Oystein says again. The fact that he sounds as if he is actually asking, rather than issuing an order, slows
me in my tracks. I grumble something beneath my breath but otherwise hold my tongue.
Carl and the others are watching our exchange with interest, eyeing up Rage.
‘This is Michael Jarman,’ Dr Oystein says to them. ‘But he prefers –’
‘Michael Jarman?’ I laugh.
‘You didn’t think I was christened Rage, did you?’ he says.
‘I brought you here to meet him, because Rage will be sharing your room if nobody has any objections,’ Dr Oystein continues, then smiles fleetingly at me. ‘With the noted exception of Miss Smith.’
‘If he moves in, I’m moving out,’ I say stiffly.
Dr Oystein sighs. ‘That would be regrettable. I let everyone decide where they want to room once they have adjusted to life here, but I prefer to assign places to begin with. If you choose not to respect my decision, I will take that as a sign that you do not trust my judgement.’
‘No, it’s not that . . . I mean I don’t . . .’ I growl with frustration. ‘He’s a killer. He betrayed me and the other zom heads.’
‘I know.’
‘But you want to stick him in with me anyway?’
‘Yes.’
Dr Oystein’s expression never alters.
‘Fine,’ I grunt. ‘Whatever.’
‘Thank you,’ he says and seeks the approval of the others. They shrug, knowing nothing about Rage or my beef with him. ‘In that case, thank you for your time, and feel free to return to your usual duties. B and Rage, would you please accompany Mr Burke and myself on a short walk? There are certain matters I wish to discuss with the pair of you.’
‘Sure,’ I say, shooting Rage an evil look. He only smirks in return.
We file out, Dr Oystein and Burke in front, Rage and me a few steps behind, keeping as far apart from one another as we can.
TWENTY
We wind our way through the corridors of County Hall, Dr Oystein taking his time. Burke looks back at me. ‘I was so relieved when Josh said that he’d spared you.’
‘Yeah, well, I was the only one he did spare,’ I say bitterly, recalling how he torched the other zom heads.
Burke looks contrite. ‘If I’d been there, I would have tried to stop him.’
‘Really?’ I challenge him. ‘You seemed to be fine with what he was doing the rest of the time.’
My old teacher sighs heavily. ‘I’m sorry for all of the deception and lies. They thought I was on their side. They knew I didn’t approve of everything they were doing, but they had no idea I was in league with Dr Oystein. I had to play ball or they might have become suspicious.’
‘You were a spy?’ I frown.
‘Yes.’
‘I do not trust the military,’ Dr Oystein says without pausing or turning. ‘They wish to restore order to the world, which is my wish too, but they want to do so on their own terms. We must be wary of them. They include me in some of their plans and experiments, since they respect my specialist knowledge of the undead, but I like to keep track of all that I am excluded from too. Billy agreed to act as my inside man, as he had already earned their trust before our paths crossed.’
‘You mean you were working for the army before you met Dr Oystein?’
Burke nods.
‘Not especially loyal, are you?’ I snort.
‘I’m loyal to those I deem deserving of loyalty,’ he says sharply.
Silence falls again. We exit the building on to the riverbank. I think for a second that Dr Oystein plans to take us bowling, but then I see that he’s heading for the aquarium. ‘Was the story about you convincing Josh and the others to feed me and keep me revitalised the truth?’ I ask Burke.
‘Yes,’ he says.
‘Thanks,’ I mutter.
‘No need. You would have done the same for me.’ I raise an eyebrow and Burke chuckles wryly. ‘Well, I like to tell myself that you would.’
We share a quick grin, then we’re stepping off the path into the dim, silent world of the aquarium. I came here in the past, but not since I rocked up at County Hall as a zombie. I hadn’t even thought about this place. Fish have been among the last things on my mind recently.
I find, to my surprise, that most of the tanks are still in working order, teeming with underwater life as they were before.
‘Do zombies eat fish brains?’ I ask.
‘Only those of a certain size,’ Dr Oystein says. ‘We thrive primarily on human brains, but those of larger animals and fish are nourishing too. Fortunately a small band of people managed to drive back the zombies on the day of the attack and barricade themselves in here. Ciara was one of them. They survived and hung on until we set up camp in County Hall. All except Ciara chose to be relocated to compounds beyond the city once we gave them that option. She had grown fond of the place, and of my Angels, so she decided to stay.’
We move in silence from one tank to another, studying an array of fish, turtles, squid and all sorts of weird species. Many are beautifully coloured and strangely shaped, and I’m reminded of how exotic this place seemed when I came here as a child. I never saw the appeal of aquariums before I visited. I thought they were dull places for nerds who loved goldfish.
We come to a glass tunnel through a huge tank of sharks. There are other things in there with them, but who takes notice of anything else when you spot a shark?
Dr Oystein draws to a halt in the middle of the tunnel and gazes around. ‘I did not know much about the maintenance of aquariums when I first moved in, but I have made it my business to learn. Some of my Angels share my passion and tend to the tanks in my absence. Perhaps one of you will wish to help too.’
Rage shakes his head. ‘I only like fish when it’s in batter and served up with chips.’
‘Philistine,’ I sneer.
‘Up yours,’ he says. ‘They don’t do anything for me. I’d rather go on safari than deep-sea diving.’
‘I doubt if anyone will be going on safari any time in the near future,’ Dr Oystein murmurs. ‘And the zoos have been picked clean of their stock by now — I sent teams to check, in case we could harvest more brains. But at least this small part of our natural heritage survives.’
Dr Oystein sits down and nods for us to join him on the floor. He says nothing for a moment, relishing the underwater world which we’ve become a temporary part of. Then he makes a happy sighing sound.
‘For many decades I have found God in the creatures of the sea,’ he says. ‘The sheer diversity of life, the crazy shapes and colours, the way they can adapt and flourish . . . I defy anyone to stroll through an aquarium and tell me our world could throw forth such wonders without the guiding hand of a higher power.’
‘You’re not a fan of Darwin then?’ Rage snickers.
‘Oh, I believe in evolution,’ Dr Oystein says. ‘But you do not have to exclude one at the expense of the other. All creatures – ourselves included – are servants of nature and the changing forces of the world in which we live. But how can such a world have come into being by accident? If evolution was the only force at work, large, dull, powerful beasts would have prevailed and stamped their mark on this planet long ago. Only a curious, playful God would have populated our shores and seas with such a glittering, spellbinding array of specimens.’
Dr Oystein turns his gaze away from the sharks to look us in the eye, one after the other, as he speaks.
‘I did not bring you here by chance. As I said, I find God in places like this, and God is what I wish to discuss. I was not always a believer, so I will not be dismayed if you do not share my beliefs. I am not looking to convert either of you, merely to explain how and why I came to put together my team of Angels.
‘I was born shortly after the turn of the twentieth century. It might seem odd, but I no longer recall the exact date. It is even possible that I was born in the late nineteenth century, though I do not think I am quite that old.
‘For the first thirty-five or forty years of my life, I was an atheist. I hurled the works of Darwin and other scientists at those
who clung to the ways of what I thought was a ridiculous, outdated past. Then, in the 1930s, in the lead-up to the Second World War, God found me and I realised what a fool I had been.’ Dr Oystein lowers his gaze and sighs again, sadly this time.
‘God found me,’ he repeats in a cracked voice, ‘but not before the Nazis found me first . . .’
TWENTY-ONE
Dr Oystein travelled around Europe with his parents when he was a child. As a man, he continued to tour the world, but ended up settling in Poland, where his wife was from and where his elder brother – also a doctor – had set up home.
They were happy years, he tells us, the brothers working together, raising their families, enjoying the lull between the wars. Dr Oystein and his brother were noted geneticists who could have lived anywhere – they had offers from across the globe – but they were happy in Poland.
Then the Nazis invaded. Dr Oystein’s instincts told him to flee, but his wife and children didn’t want to leave their home and his brother refused to go too. With an uneasy feeling, he agreed to remain and hoped that he would be allowed to carry on his work in peace and quiet, since he had no strong political ties and wasn’t a member of any of the religions or races which the Nazis despised.
Unfortunately for the doctor, the Nazis were almost as interested in genetics as they were in killing Jews and gypsies. They were intent on improving the human form and creating a master race. They saw Dr Oystein and his brother as key allies in their quest to overcome the weaknesses of nature.
When Dr Oystein rejected their advances, he was imprisoned in a concentration camp along with his brother and their families. The camps weren’t as hellish as the death camps which were built later in the war, but the chances of survival were slim all the same.
‘If the guards disliked you,’ Dr Oystein says quietly, ‘they worked you until you could work no more, then executed you for failing to complete your tasks. Or they tortured you until you confessed to whatever crime they wished to charge you with. They might make you stand still for hours on end, under the threat of death if you moved, then shoot you when you collapsed from sheer exhaustion.’
