Z-Minus Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Perrin Briar

  “Her eyes were swollen and red, and she was covered in blood up to her elbows. She told me to go downstairs and hide somewhere safe until someone came who could take care of me. She kissed me on the cheek. I left her and went and hid behind the curtains. It was always my favourite hiding place when we played hide and seek.

  “I could see Emily’s body on the floor. There were knives sticking out of it. I cried and cried and cried, leaving a wet patch running down the curtain like a big tissue. I thought about hiding somewhere else, but I would only keep crying, so I stayed there. Then you came home. I didn’t know if you should count as someone Mum said could take care of me, so I waited.

  “While you were upstairs, Emily rose. I was so happy I thought maybe she was still alive, but when she turned around and I saw her milky white eyes, I knew the truth. She went through to the kitchen and stumbled down the stairs into the basement. I think you know the rest.”

  Maisie wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that,” Chris said.

  “You haven’t been infected, have you?” Maisie said. “I don’t think I could face it if you had.”

  Chris hesitated.

  “No,” he said. “No, I haven’t.”

  Maisie sniffed and nodded her head. They turned to look out at the remains of the town before them.

  “It doesn’t seem real, does it?” Maisie said.

  Chris looked at her.

  “No,” he said, “it doesn’t.”

  “What are we going to do now?”

  “‘We’?” Chris said. “‘We’ aren’t going to do anything. I’m going to walk this way.”

  He turned and stepped toward the forest.

  “Then what am I going to do?” Maisie said.

  “You do whatever you want.”

  “But… Mum said I should find someone to take care of me.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  “We should stick together.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re my dad. If you’re not the right person, who is?”

  “I’m not going to look after you, Mais. I can barely look after myself. If you hadn’t noticed, there’s an apocalypse.”

  He took a few more steps toward the forest, the darkness welcoming and inviting. His footsteps crunched on the fallen foliage beneath his boots. The ground was covered with thin vines like green spider webs. The trees absorbed the city’s frantic squawking.

  Then he heard twigs snap behind him. Heart in his throat, he spun to meet his assailant. His shoulders relaxed.

  “Maisie, get out of here!” he said.

  She said nothing, but she had that bull headed look in her eye she had inherited from her mother.

  “I’m not taking you with me,” Chris said. “It’s every man for himself now, and you’ll only slow me down.”

  “But I’m your daughter!”

  “I don’t care! Get out of here! Go!”

  “No!”

  Chris bent down and picked up a handful of small sharp stones.

  “I said go!”

  “No!”

  Chris threw a stone. It bounced at Maisie’s feet. She took a step closer.

  “Don’t you dare!” Chris said. “Go!”

  She pressed her lips together and approached him. Chris threw another stone. It struck her arm and made a dirty smudge. It must have hurt, but she didn’t make a sound. She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears of rage.

  “Get out of here or I’ll give you a good hiding,” Chris said.

  She didn’t move.

  “I said go!” Chris said, showing her the back of his hand.

  But she didn’t quail. She thrust her chin up in defiance.

  “Leave,” Chris said softly. “Find someone to take care of you. I couldn’t do it before all this kicked off. I certainly can’t do it now.”

  Maisie just stared at him.

  “You’re just going to stare at me?” Chris said. “You’re not going to say anything? Go. I don’t want to see you following me. Understand?”

  Maisie bit her bottom lip, a sure sign she was about to cry. She shifted from foot to foot.

  “So, what should I do?” she said.

  “What is anyone going to do? Find somewhere safe and stay there.”

  “But now Mum and Emily are gone, I don’t have anyone else left.”

  “You must have friends, don’t you? Or family? Go to your Aunt Beatrix. She’s just on the other side of town.”

  “I can’t get there on my own.”

  Chris shrugged.

  “What other choice have you got?” he said.

  “You could take me. What else have you got to do?”

  Chris looked out at the woods. Just what was he going to do? Wander around out there until his time was up? Hardly a great way to end his life, but it was better than babysitting.

  “Grow up,” Chris said. “You can’t be a baby anymore.”

  He turned and headed deeper into the woods. Twigs snapped behind him. Chris rolled his eyes.

  “Didn’t you hear what I just said?” he said.

  “It wasn’t me. I didn’t move.”

  Another sound, of crushed leaves this time. Somewhere to their left. And then another footstep, closer.

  “Make sure I get there safe,” Maisie said in a low voice. “It’s what Mum would have wanted.”

  Maisie’s hands were clenched into tight balls in the folds of her skirt. She looked small and helpless. Chris sighed.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll get you to your aunt’s house. But once we’re there, that’s it. I’m leaving. Understand?”

  Maisie nodded. Chris let out another deep sigh and shook his head.

  “Family,” he said. “All they ever get you is trouble.”

  Z-MINUS: 7 HOURS 21 MINUTES

  Aunt Beatrix lived in a swanky part of town. The walls were clean of graffiti and people ordinarily said “Hello,” and “Good morning,” to one another. Chris always felt like a turd on a parquet floor whenever he went there.

  He was pleased to see the neighbourhood had received an apocalyptic-style makeover. A large delivery truck had ploughed into the communal garden, knocking the black iron-wrought fence over and uprooting a tree. A pack of wild Chihuahuas and Maltese roamed the streets, picking over rubbish left at the side of the road.

  Chris led Maisie down the pavement to a house on the corner of the street. He tugged on Maisie’s coat collar and zipped it up to keep her warm. He brushed her hair back out of her face.

  “Behave yourself at Aunt Beatrix’s house, all right?” Chris said. “Don’t be a pain. I’m sure she’ll take good care of you. You’re family, which means it’s okay to take advantage.”

  Maisie nodded.

  “I will, Chris,” she said.

  “You ought to call me Dad,” Chris said.

  “I will when you start acting like one.”

  No heartfelt goodbyes, no tearful hugs. Good. That was the way Chris liked it. Chris rang the doorbell, ran across the street, and stood behind a tree.

  Maisie looked tiny before the tall door. Chris checked his watch. He still had a little over seven hours left. Maisie turned and looked back at Chris. She shrugged. Chris waited a little longer, but nothing happened.

  He crossed the street back to the house and knocked on it. He pressed the doorbell twice, and then kept his finger on it. He banged on the door with the fleshy part of his fist.

  “Come on!” he said. “Open up! We’ve got a little girl here!”

  Maisie spotted a piece of paper curled up into a tiny scroll and stuffed into the mouth of an empty milk bottle. She opened it.

  “What’s that?” Chris said.

  Maisie handed it to him.

  “You read it,” he said. “What does it say?”

  “‘Gone away for a while’,” Maisie read. “‘Please stop delivering milk to this address. Regards, Beatrix Strand.”

  Chris threw up his hands.
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  “Well, that’s just great!” he said. “Talk about good timing. Only your aunt would think to leave a message for the milkman during the apocalypse.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “What do you want from me?” Chris said. “I said I would get you to your Aunt Beatrix’s, and I have. Mission complete. That’s it. Book closed. We don’t have any more family around here. I’m sure your aunt has lots of food in the cupboard. You’ll have to stay here and take care of yourself.”

  “I can’t,” Maisie said. “I’m only eight.”

  “So? When I was your age I had to look after my brothers every day. If I could do it, so can you.”

  “I’ll just come with you,” Maisie said.

  “No. Definitely not. Out of the question.”

  “Why? I’ll help you with cooking and cleaning. It’ll be an adventure.”

  “This is an adult adventure. You’re underage. No, we have to find somewhere safe for you. There must be something we can do…”

  Chris clicked his fingers.

  “That’s it!” he said. “I’ll take you to Jerome’s. You like Jerome, don’t you? Everyone likes Jerome. Dad’s old drinking buddy. Nobody would bother biting him. He’d taste like aniseed.”

  Maisie shook her head and took a step back.

  “No,” she said.

  “I don’t blame you,” Chris said. “He’s the last person I’d want to spend time with at the end of the world too. But what other choice do you have?”

  Maisie kicked her foot and looked at the ground.

  “Granny lives in the countryside…” she said.

  “That’s because she needs somewhere to mix up her cauldron where no one can see,” Chris said. “I’m not taking you there. It’s too far.”

  Maisie hung her head. The pack of dogs approached the step and sniffed at her shiny shoes.

  “Ya!” Chris said, kicking at the dogs.

  They growled and moved on. Chris checked his watch.

  He did have time to take her, but was this how he really wanted to spend the last few hours of his life? Maisie was still staring at him with her big brown eyes, clutching her arms around her body. She had the expression her mother always wore when there was something in a shop she wanted to buy but she didn’t have the money to purchase it. Chris was suddenly swept up in a tide of emotion that he could only put at the feet of his recent losses. He sighed.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll take you. But I’m making a few stops on the way.”

  Maisie beamed.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said. “You won’t regret it, I swear! I’ll be the best daughter ever! You’ll see!”

  “I already said yes. You don’t have to sell me.”

  They turned and walked away from Aunt Beatrix’s house. Maisie put her hand in Chris’s. He pulled his hand away, disliking the feel.

  “Your Granny’s been living like it’s the apocalypse for twenty years,” Chris said. “She’s the ideal person to take care of you.”

  “But granny’s is far away,” Maisie said. “How are we going to get there?”

  “With a car, of course.”

  Z-MINUS: 6 HOURS 58 MINUTES

  Clive’s Cars was a dealership that took up half of Nottingham’s industrial estate. With every type of vehicle under the sun, it was the best-stocked dealership in the county. Chris moved along the sports cars, his eye tracing the smooth curves of the Porsches. He came to a Porsche 911.

  “I always wanted to drive one of these,” Chris said.

  “It looks nice,” Maisie said, “but it does the same thing as cheaper cars, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he said. “But faster. This was the pinnacle of automotive engineering, once upon a time.”

  Chris took a screwdriver out of his pocket.

  “But thankfully,” he said, “its level of security doesn’t match.”

  Three zombies wearing matching Nottingham United shirts ambled toward them. One had a rope around his neck, the end trailing along the ground. Another had deep cuts along his wrists. They came to an open top speedster and climbed over it, onto the leather seats.

  “We’d better hurry,” Chris said as he bent over the Porsche.

  There was a snap sound, and a loud BANG! as a man with a bandana and shotgun ran at the zombies, unloading into them.

  “Do you mind,” BANG! “not stepping” BANG! “on the leather seats,” BANG! “please.”

  The man blew imaginary smoke off the barrel.

  The zombies lay sprawled over the vehicle, their innards now outards, decorating the car. The man turned to Maisie and Chris, who hastily tucked his screwdriver away.

  “Sorry about that,” the man said. “Getting the wrong sort around here these days. This neighbourhood has really gone downhill.”

  He beamed and extended a hand.

  “My name’s Clive. I’m the owner of this dealership. I can see you’re interested in the Porsche?”

  Z-MINUS: 6 HOURS 47 MINUTES

  Clive led them into the main dealership building. On display were their gems: a Bentley Mulsanne and a 1963 Jaguar XKE. They were polished to a high shine. Clive took them through to his office. It was the only one that was occupied.

  “What happened to the other salesmen?” Chris said.

  “Bunch of quitters,” Clive said. “They hear it’s the ‘end of the world’ and they run a mile. Some of us are made of sterner stuff.”

  Clive hung his bandana from a hat stand and leaned the shotgun against the wall in the corner.

  “I love it here,” he said. “To the others it was always just a job. To me it’s a passion. Would you like tea? Coffee?”

  “No, thanks,” Chris said. “We need to get going as soon as we can.”

  “Gotcha. Time is of the essence. Let me just pull up the car’s information here. It’ll just take a minute.”

  Clive clicked on his computer. There was a pause as the file loaded.

  “So,” Chris said, fishing for a topic of conversation. “The whole zombie apocalypse thing doesn’t bother you?”

  “Not in the slightest. It’s a fad, a hiccough. It’ll pass and things will be right back the way they were.”

  “Well, you know, a lot of people have died.”

  “A lot of people always die. It’s just blown out of all proportion on the news and what have you. Look at SARS. What happened to that? Came and went like crabs on a whore.”

  He didn’t seem to notice Maisie was there.

  “Chris,” Maisie said, “what’s a who-?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  Clive looked at Maisie with a smile.

  “She’s cute,” he said. “She your girlfriend?”

  “She’s eight.”

  “Hey, I don’t judge. God knows we’ve all got our preferences.”

  “She’s my daughter.”

  “Ah. Right. Now I see the resemblance.”

  “How’s the file coming along?” Chris said, voice fringed with disgust.

  “Almost there. They say that when the zombies bite you, you’ve got eight hours left to live. Do you think that’s true?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Why eight hours? Why not twenty four or forty eight? You could do a lot in that sort of time. But eight hours?”

  Clive shook his head.

  “Better off just going to work,” he said. “They say you start suffering side effects and changes, but I haven’t noticed anything yet.”

  Chris frowned.

  “You haven’t noticed what yet?” he said.

  “Side effects. I was bitten about, I don’t know, about seven hours ago, I reckon. No, maybe seven and a half. But I haven’t suffered any side effects.”

  Just then, his eye dropped from its socket and hung by the optic nerve on his cheek.

  Clive hadn’t noticed, and smiled.

  “Here we are,” he said. “Here’s the information.”

  Maisie squeaked and looked away. Clive smiled, mistaking h
er outburst for excitement.

  “It’s a ten percent deposit and two percent payment per month with an interest fee of three percent,” he said.

  Chris pointed to Clive’s cheek.

  “You’ve, uh, got something on your cheek there,” he said.

  “I just had breakfast,” Clive said. “I always manage to get some on my face.”

  He wiped his cheek.

  “There,” he said, “did I get it?”

  “No, it’s, uh, a little higher.”

  Clive tried again, this time nudging the eyeball and causing it to rock side to side. Maisie made another squeak and dry retched.

  “A little bit higher,” Chris said. “Closer to your eye…”

  “Hey, I’m not afraid of another man touching me,” Clive said, leaning forward. “Get a tissue. Wipe it off for me, would ya?”

  “For God’s sake, man! It’s your eyeball! It’s hanging from your eye socket!”

  Clive turned to his computer monitor, and looked at his reflection in the glass.

  “Oh yeah,” he said. “So it is.”

  Clive pushed it back into his skull and blinked, returning to normal.

  “They say your body begins to sag when you hit forty,” Clive said. “You don’t look forty yet. You’re about, what, thirty-two? Thirty-three? In ten years you’ll notice the same things happening to your body. It’s nature. We can’t fight it. So, how do those terms sound? Pretty tasty, right?”

  Chris handed over his credit card without taking his eyes off Clive.

  “No negotiating?” Clive said. “That’s new. Would you at least like to take it for a test drive?”

  “No,” Chris said, feeling sick to his stomach. “I’d just sooner be on my way.”

  Z-MINUS: 6 HOURS 31 MINUTES

  “She sure is a beaut,” Clive said. “I think you’ve fleeced me on this one. I ought to have charged a lot more.”

  Clive tossed the keys to Chris.

  “She’s all yours,” he said. “She comes with a full tank, so you’ll get at least five miles out of her. I’m just kidding! But seriously, make sure to fill up often.”

  Chris got into the Porsche, Maisie on the other side. She still couldn’t bear to look at Clive. Chris wound down his window.