by Darren Shan
‘No,’ I grunt. ‘It’s Santa Claus.’
‘I’ve heard him described, but I never thought . . .’ Rage falls silent again.
‘Do you believe Dr Oystein now?’ Burke asks softly. ‘When he says that Mr Dowling is an agent of universal evil?’
Rage shifts uncomfortably. ‘Do you?’ He throws the question back.
Burke breathes out slowly. ‘I still find it hard to believe in a God or Devil who would get personally involved in our affairs. But when I look at that, I wonder.’
‘You’ve met this guy a couple of times?’ Rage asks, turning towards me.
‘Yeah. Underground in the complex, and when he brought down a helicopter in Trafalgar Square.’
‘Is he as creepy in the flesh?’
‘Way more,’ I say shortly.
‘What about the freak with the eyes?’ Rage asks.
‘I just know him as Owl Man. Dr Oystein knows his real name, but he –’
‘What makes you think that?’ Burke interrupts.
‘He told me.’
‘Did he tell you what it was?’ Burke asks.
‘No. He said he preferred the name Owl Man and would call him that from now on.’
Burke grunts. ‘I must quiz him when I get back. Owl Man is one of the people I’m hoping to learn more about in the files.’
‘Why?’ Rage asks. ‘Do you want to send him a birthday card?’
We all laugh and the mood lightens.
‘It’s some world we live in, isn’t it?’ Burke sighs.
‘Imagine if you’d had to dissect something like Mr Dowling in a biology class,’ I giggle.
‘Maybe I’ll get a chance yet,’ Burke says, turning back towards the trolley. Then he pauses thoughtfully and looks around. ‘Would you mind if I did some of my research here?’
I shrug. ‘If you want.’
‘I wouldn’t be in your way?’
‘No. I was about done. I can go get you a chair.’
‘That’s OK. I’m used to doing it on my feet.’
Rage and I smirk at the unintended joke.
‘Will he be safe here?’ Rage asks me.
‘Should be. Timothy got along fine until that bloody baby started screeching. The windows are boarded over – I replaced most of the planks that were broken – and I’ve made sure all the doors are properly barred. But what about getting back to County Hall?’
‘Thank you for your concern, but I am able to look after myself,’ Burke says with a hint of irritation. ‘I managed to negotiate the streets of London for months without any help before you two came along to nanny me.’
‘But it wouldn’t hurt to have one of us with you, would it?’ I ask him.
Burke grimaces. ‘I’m not a child. Now get the hell out of here before I revive the custom of detention.’
Rage and I laugh. ‘OK,’ I tell my old teacher. ‘The key’s in the door. Lock up after yourself and leave it under the stone out front.’
‘If you’re not back by sunset, should we come looking for you?’ Rage asks.
‘Give it until sunset tomorrow,’ Burke tells him, eyeing the tower of files and folders. ‘I’m going to be here a while with that lot. I’ll work late into the night, sleep in, then hit the pile again when I wake up. If I can get through it all, it will save us having to push the trolley any further. I worry about getting attacked out on the streets, going slowly with a load like that.’
‘There’s no food, but the taps work,’ I tell him. ‘Or they did the last time I checked. We could bring you some grub and bottled water.’
‘A bit of fasting will do me no harm,’ Burke says and shoos us out. He’s grinning when he waves us off, but I catch him staring at the painting of Mr Dowling as he shuts the door. His smile disappears as the shadow of the closing door sweeps across him, and sorrow and fear eclipse him in one smooth, sliding motion.
THREE
Rage and I head west to County Hall. It used to be the seat of local government years ago. Now it’s home to Dr Oystein and his Angels, a place for us to train and prepare for battle with Mr Dowling and his troops.
We don’t say anything for a while. I don’t like Rage and he’s no fonder of me. We share a room with four other revitaliseds, and manage to be pleasant to one another most of the time, but I can never truly forgive him for what he did in the underground complex, when he abandoned me and the zom heads.
Rage breaks the silence. ‘You looked sharp in training yesterday.’
I squint at him suspiciously.
‘What?’ he asks.
‘You don’t pay compliments for the hell of it,’ I snap. ‘What do you want?’
Rage rolls his eyes. ‘You know your problem, Becky? You’re paranoid.’
‘Only where you’re concerned,’ I snarl.
Rage laughs. ‘Out of all the do-gooders in County Hall, you’re the most like me. It’s a shame you hate my guts. We could have been like Bonnie and Clyde if the circumstances were different.’
‘More like Burke and Hare,’ I mutter.
‘Who were they?’
‘A couple of grave-robbers.’
Rage smiles. ‘You say the sweetest things.’
We walk along in silence a bit more until Rage speaks up again. ‘Seriously, you did look sharp in training, and no, I’m not after anything. I’m just saying. You’ve been on fire since you came back from HMS Belfast.’
I shrug. ‘Yeah, well, when you have to fight as a gladiator several times a day you either toughen up or get ripped to pieces.’
It’s been nearly four months since I was held captive on the old cruiser. I spent several weeks in a Groove Tube when I got back, recovering, my wounds slowly knitting together as much as they were able to. Since then I’ve been working tirelessly with Master Zhang, developing my skills.
‘When do you think the doc will send us on a real mission?’ Rage asks.
‘What am I, a mind-reader?’
‘It had better be soon,’ Rage grumbles. ‘I’m getting bored of this crap. There’s only so much training and scouting that I can take. I’m starting to crack up.’
‘You cracked up long ago,’ I sniff, then cock an eyebrow at him. ‘I don’t think anyone likes being stuck in County Hall, but what can we do? Dr Oystein calls the shots. When he thinks we’re ready, he’ll set us loose. Until then . . .’
Rage shoots me a dirty look. ‘The others in our team were sent on serious missions before we joined, so he obviously trusts them to do a job for him. It’s you and me he’s unsure of.’
‘Maybe,’ I nod. ‘Or maybe he’s holding us back for something big.’
‘Like what?’ Rage asks. ‘The ultimate confrontation with Mr Dowling and the forces of darkness?’
‘Perhaps.’
Rage snorts. ‘That’s never gonna happen. It’s a load of bull, God, the Devil, all the rest. The doc needs the clown and his mutants to keep the game going. That’s why we haven’t squared up to them. If we faced them and beat them, we’d see that they were just a bunch of dirty rotten creeps. He’ll never pit us against Mr Dowling. The two of them are probably drinking buddies.’
I stop and stare at him. ‘You don’t really believe that.’
‘I do,’ he says. ‘Well, not the drinking buddies bit, but the rest of it, yeah. I’ve been sizing up the mad old geezer. I like the doc, but the whole good versus evil thing bothered me from the start, and the more I’ve seen of him and the way he’s holding us back, the more my opinion has changed.
‘I used to think he was crazy, that he believes everything he preaches. Now I’m not so sure. I think he knows that it’s nonsense. That’s why he doesn’t lead us into battle with the mutants. If he does, and we win, he’ll have to admit the truth once the fighting’s died down, that he’s just a normal zombie, with no more of a role to play in deciding the future of this world than anyone else.’
‘What if everything he’s told us is on the level?’ I ask quietly. ‘If he really is an agent of a higher power? If
Mr Dowling really does represent some force of ultimate evil?’
Rage sneers. ‘You’re smarter than that. You know it’s bullshit.’
‘No,’ I whisper. ‘I used to think it was. Now . . .’
I start walking again, picking up speed. Rage hurries after me.
‘Is this because of the baby?’ he asks. ‘You were sure the doc was psycho before you went to the brewery. When you came back, you were a convert. What went down?’
‘There’s no point telling you. You wouldn’t believe me.’
‘I might,’ he huffs.
‘Not in a million years.’ I squint at him. ‘It’s funny. After you pushed me off the London Eye, you told me I had to choose, that I needed to pledge myself to Dr Oystein or get the hell out of London. Now you’re the one caught in two minds.’
‘Caught? Me?’ He laughs at the notion. ‘I’m clear on where I stand. I think the doc’s a hero. He’d sacrifice more than any of us ever would. But I don’t buy into his holy war. I think he’s bigged up the threat of Mr Dowling in order to fool himself into thinking he’s on a mission from God. He should have led us into battle by now and wiped out the mutants, so we could link up with the army and focus on the problem of clearing the city of zombies.
‘But he doesn’t want to do that, not deep down. He says he plans to hand control of the planet back to the living again, but I think secretly he prefers it like this. He can tell himself he’s important this way. If we fight the mutants and eliminate them, but the world rolls on the same as before, what’s he then?’
‘If that’s how you feel, what are you doing here?’ I ask. ‘Why don’t you do us all a favour and bugger off?’
‘I’m thinking about it,’ he says. ‘The main reason I’ve hung around is the promise of an exciting battle—I still think there could be a good old dust-up between the Angels and mutants, and I’ve been hanging on for that. But if he doesn’t give us something to do soon, I’ll look for action elsewhere.’
‘Good riddance,’ I tell him.
Rage’s smile returns. ‘You don’t mean that. You’d miss me if I went.’
‘In your dreams.’
‘No,’ he says. ‘You would. That’s why I’m inviting you to come with me.’
I gawp at him. ‘Are you crazy? I hate you. What makes you think I’d give up County Hall and turn my back on the friends I’ve made, to be your sidekick?’
‘Because you’re itching for action too,’ Rage says. ‘You’re sick of the quiet life. You want to be in the thick of things, like you were on the Belfast. You need action, fighting, killing. Tell me I’m wrong.’
‘You’re wrong,’ I spit back at him immediately.
Rage shakes his head smugly and jogs ahead of me, leaving me to stare after him and seethe. Me and Rage, two of the same? Never in a million years!
At least . . . I don’t think that we are.
God, I hope we’re not!
FOUR
Some of the Angels are playing football in Jubilee Gardens when I get back. The small park is nestled between County Hall and the Royal Festival Hall, where they used to host shows, concerts and highbrow events.
I spot Shane passing the ball to Jakob, so I stop to cheer them on. I was never a huge footie fan, but I can tolerate it.
I join Ashtat on the sidelines. We didn’t gel when we first met, but we get on fine now. She’s wearing her usual blue robe, but has replaced her white headscarf with a red one.
‘That’s new,’ I note.
‘I fancied a change.’ She smiles shyly. ‘Do you think the colour suits me?’
‘Yeah, it’s nice.’
She beams. ‘The boys said they liked it, but they know nothing about fashion. I was waiting for a girl to give me her opinion.’
I scratch the back of my head. I’m not a girly girl. I grew up a tomboy and preferred hanging out with guys. I always shaved my hair tight, wore trousers and T-shirts, no earrings or jewellery. I fought like a boy, cursed like a boy, acted like a boy. It feels strange being asked for advice about something like this. The girls who I was friendly with in school never sounded me out about clothes, hair or make-up.
‘Good tackle, Shane,’ I roar, focusing my attention on the football. ‘What’s the score?’
‘A couple of goals apiece,’ Ashtat says. ‘At least I think so. The game started before I got here.’
We watch the match unfold. There are nine players on either side. They found proper football nets somewhere and set them up. Shane, Carl, Jakob and Rage are on one team. Rage must have replaced someone just before I got back. He plays dirty, going in high with his tackles, elbowing players off the ball. No surprise there.
The ghostly white Jakob gets the ball and speeds down the wing. He looks so frail compared with the others, a result of the cancer which was eating away at him when he was alive. But zombies are tough, even the weakest of us, and Jakob can more than hold his own.
The game flows swiftly, faster than it ever did in the Premier League. Fully fed zombies are stronger and quicker than they were in life. We don’t need oxygen, so we don’t run out of breath or tire rapidly. Any of these players could shoot from one end of the pitch and expect to rattle the back of the net in the goal at the far end if their shot was on target.
Jakob passes to Carl, who fires off a close-range, blistering shot. The keeper throws himself low and left and scoops the ball away just before it crosses the line. Carl cries out with disbelief and kicks the ground angrily, sending a clod of earth flying through the air. Ashtat and I laugh at him, then roar encouragement.
The other team breaks. The players swarm up the pitch and score. One of the guys on our side groans and limps off, but only his pride has really been injured.
‘Fancy a game, B?’ Carl calls.
‘I’m useless,’ I shout back.
‘So are we,’ he laughs. ‘Come on, we need a woman’s subtle touch.’
‘Do you fancy it?’ I ask Ashtat.
She shakes her head. ‘I am not dressed for football.’
‘What are you scared of?’ Rage yells.
I glower at Rage then roll up my sleeves. ‘Right. Time to show you mugs what the beautiful game’s all about.’
To a chorus of cheers from my room-mates I take to the pitch.
I wasn’t lying when I said that I was useless. Well, not completely. I can do the basics—pass, shoot, tackle and run with the ball. I just can’t do any of them very well. Fortunately for me, most of the other Angels are pretty crap too, so I don’t feel completely out of place.
My guys watch out for me. When I’m bundled over by one of the larger members of the opposition, Shane and Carl sandwich him soon after, slamming into him at the same time from either side, to teach him a lesson. It’s sweet of them, but they didn’t need to. I can exact my own revenge, as I prove the next time I cross paths with the big guy—I slyly punch him below the belt when no one’s looking, then claim total innocence when he screeches and protests.
‘I saw what you did,’ Jakob says quietly as I move away from the argument.
‘He deserved it,’ I snort.
‘I’m not saying he didn’t. But hitting a guy between the legs isn’t as effective as it used to be. Elbow one of his ears next time. That will really hurt him.’
I laugh and we knock knuckles.
A couple of minutes later I almost score a goal when I mishit a pass from Rage. Their keeper pulls off another spectacular save, otherwise it would have been a dead cert. Ashtat cheers loudly from the sideline and tells me she’s sure I’ll score next time.
‘Nice one, shrimp,’ Rage says, slapping my back as he jogs past. ‘Keep it up.’
I grin like an idiot, feeling way better than I should playing such a stupid game, especially when there’s nothing at stake. But it feels good to be kicking a ball around, part of a team, playing with friends. It’s been a long time since I felt like this, that I truly belonged.
The game trundles along aimlessly. Nobody’s worried ab
out how long we’ve been playing or the score or when we’re going to stop. We’re just having fun, stuck in a deliciously vague, carefree moment, the kind you wish could last forever but never does.
The twins shatter the mood. Cian and Awnya are the youngest Angels, great at foraging—they can find just about anything you want. They come racing out of County Hall, eager as a pair of hounds after a hare. Awnya starts waving her hands over her head to stop the game even before they reach the pitch. ‘Carl!’ she cries. ‘Shane! B!’
‘Rage!’ Cian adds. ‘Jakob! Ashtat!’
‘What is it?’ Shane grunts, picking up the ball and bouncing it hard on the spot, letting the twins know that they can expect him to bounce it off their heads if they haven’t halted the game for an excellent reason.
‘Dr Oystein wants you,’ Awnya exclaims.
‘You’re going on a mission,’ Cian says. Then his face drops. ‘I wish we could come with you.’
As the others punch the air with excitement, I catch Rage’s eye. He shrugs. ‘Sod’s law,’ he chuckles. ‘If I hadn’t thought about leaving, we would never have been given a mission. As soon as I think about upping sticks, destiny hits us with a wallop. It’s always the way, isn’t it?’
Shane kicks the ball high into the air and leaves the other players to chase it. Ashtat joins the rest of us on the pitch. We glance around at each other and share a buzzing yet nervously charged moment. Then we head on back to County Hall with the twins to find out what fate holds in store.
FIVE
Dr Oystein is in one of the rooms overlooking the river and the Houses of Parliament. It’s a stunning view but he’s not paying attention to it. He’s sitting in a chair, bent over a map on a small table. Master Zhang is discussing something with him.
Emma and Declan, a pair of living humans, are also present. We chanced upon them before I was kidnapped by Barnes and taken to HMS Belfast. They came to live here while I was being held prisoner. Emma is bouncing Declan up and down on her lap. He’s smiling but he doesn’t laugh out loud. He hasn’t said anything since she brought him here. He’s the quietest little boy I’ve ever met. I suppose silence is a useful tool when you’re trying to stay alive on the zombie-infested streets.
