“I don’t mind. If it helps the new world order, I don’t mind.”
“It helps the new world order more than you can imagine.” Maria nodded. “Ruby, you are going to be thrust into a role that is extremely important.”
“What role?”
“The new world order needs a new world royal family. Ruby, you will be Queen of the Martyrs. You will help me make decisions that will impact the new establishment. You will be extremely important to our futures. After you ruled my government, I know you are good enough to do so.”
Ruby winced as the virus took hold of her and her body began to shut down. Her skin was becoming darker as blood vessels burst. Her eyes were becoming bloodshot. Her mouth became dry.
“A Martyr eats only raw meat,” Maria explained. “They do not eat the living. You will not want to eat the living. You will struggle to accept the dead, but they will not hurt you. This is the immunity that the new world order actually needs. We don’t need a cure for the virus. All we need is for people to become Martyrs. It is the new human race. It’s a plan that will be rewarded and rolled out. You will be a pioneer in doing so.”
“You are incredible, Maria.” Ruby smiled. “Truly incredible.”
Her heart slowed down. Her breathing became slower. Maria placed a hand on her decaying hand.
“You’re the incredible one here, Ruby.” Maria smiled.
Ruby blinked. Her head slumped back. The seconds ticked by. Ruby Minister sat before Maria, no longer living, now in the land of the dead.
Sixty seconds later, she awoke. Her eyes took in her surroundings. Her mind thought a little differently. She knew she was dead. She felt strange, as if waking from a slumber of a thousand years.
“Did it work?” Ruby asked.
“Oh, yes.” Maria nodded. “Yes, it worked. Welcome to the world, my Queen.”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Maria lifted the vial of blood carefully to the light and peered at it, swishing the thick liquid ever so slightly, watching it swill around the glass.
“What do you think?” Nickel asked her.
They stood in the ruined labs. Bodies and blood littered the floor, but it was nothing that couldn’t be cleaned up. She eyed the prototype virus pills that had been created and cursed that they had been damaged. They had been so close to dominating the pharmaceutical industry at last.
“I love it.”
Nickel placed his hands on a metal cabinet, which was cold to touch, and opened one of the compartment doors. It slid, hissing ever so slightly, and revealed more blood vials.
“Wow.”
Maria placed the vial she had been holding back inside the cabinet, and reached for another. A small label on the side told her this was sample eighteen out of sixty eight.
“Impressive, is it not?”
“You know I find it impressive.” Maria nodded. She looked at Nickel. “If half of my workers were as switched on as you, we would be running on premium gas.”
“As opposed to?”
“My solo premium gas.” Maria shrugged.
Nickel laughed. “Tell me, why was this blood so important to you?”
Maria put the vial back into the cabinet and closed the door. She turned to Nickel again and looked him directly in his blue eyes. “Because, Nickel, this is the blood of Connor Getty.”
“The twat we killed back at the tower?”
Maria bristled. “He was my son.”
Nickel’s mouth dropped open. For once, he was lost for words. He recovered fairly quickly, clearing his throat. “Your son?”
“My son.” Maria agreed. “We had an estranged relationship back home. I lost custody of him when he was seven. He knew of me because I made sure of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“He worked in a coffee shop, somewhere in Watford. One day, sensing my apocalypse was near fruition, I went into the shop when he was on shift. I told him everything. How I had been pregnant with him and my father hadn’t agreed. How I fought to keep him, but I was framed to be a bad mother by my stepmother and my stepsister. I told him how they managed to convince the authorities I was off my nut on drugs, and that was why at seven he had been legally adopted. I hated it. I vowed to get him back. But corruption took over. Running a new world order consumed me, Nickel, and Connor went into the back of my mind.
“But he survived. I had to make sure he survived. I made sure he was immune. I made sure he would not die at the hands of the dead. I just couldn’t allow it. I was protecting my son, you have to believe me. I was protecting him. But then I realised, protecting someone immune was going to be a downfall. Something I had to eradicate. It began to dawn on me that if Connor could be immune, then so could many others.”
“You created your own weakness.”
“Humans create their weaknesses all the time. It’s how you combat it that stops it from taking hold of you.”
“I suppose.” Nickel nodded. “But why are you telling me all of this? Does anybody else know?”
“There’s been a reason you’ve been tracking Winter Smith. One that I’m sure you realise by now.”
“She’s immune.”
“She’s immune.” Maria agreed. “When I realised my mistake, I did my research and accessed the data base of those that had the same blood type as Connor. I discovered there were a number of people immune, and I’ve been trying to track them down. It was a matter of coincidence that my son was so close to a girl who was immune, so that is why she became top priority. You see, the world that I envision cannot continue if the immune live. I know that The Union know what they have in Winter, and I know they have contacts in Amsterdam to create a cure for what I created. If that happens, we will begin to fall.”
“But you have gone far enough with the dead now, surely,” Nickel said. “You can’t want more.”
“The dead are vital for a few more years. They keep getting rid of the weak, and keep the people on my side in shape. People living in fear is instrumental to getting my new world order established. In the next few months, I will begin to rebuild. There will be new jobs, new homes, new countries opening again. I can do all of that. But whilst my team do that, the key people will be finding the immune and ensuring each one of them is slain.”
“And how many people do you believe are immune?”
“Doing background checks, there are many who have died, either before the apocalypse or during, due to some accident. But there are eleven alive that we need to find, and that includes Winter Smith.” Maria turned to the blood of Connor. “This blood must be protected. Without this blood, The Union cannot create the cure they are looking for. Connor’s blood is the strongest, because immunity was made for him. And intentionally it was made for him only. But the human body is a complicated thing, one I underestimated. His blood, combined with the eleven, would create the cure that would stop this apocalypse in its track, and ruin my new world order made of the strong. This blood will not be touched, and it must have twenty-four hour protection.”
“And you want me to protect it?”
“Yes. And I want you to head the immunity department. You will find those who are immune, and one by one, you will kill.”
“Of course.” Nickel agreed.
Maria smiled, a genuine smile. She placed a hand on Nickel’s hand. “I thank you.”
“I just have one question.” Nickel drew away his hand. “If you created immunity for your son, does that mean…?”
Maria sighed. “Yes. It means I am immune, too.”
Chapter Sixty
The funerals of Connor Getty, Nathan Smith and Caroline Butters were a sombre affair. Cedric had reclaimed their mangled bodies after the dead had disappeared and the scene of the New Year had dispersed. Connor’s eyes had been gouged out, his lips ripped in the corners, and his body covered in wounds that only ceased to kill him, and not take control.
His blood had been taken by Cedric, and stored away, in a small fridge that Heidi had in her small apartment, where they
were all currently hiding out. Cedric didn’t know if the blood would be enough for the scientists in Amsterdam, but he vowed to find out.
Caroline’s scalp was missing, and her neck was slashed. She had risen again, fully turned into the dead, but she had been shot down in the commotion of their escape.
Nathan had been hard to find. His body strolled aimlessly behind the tower, but he had been unrecognisable. His arm had been dislocated, and his legs had been broken in the fall from the pentagram.
Burying zombies was something none of them could quite comprehend.
“Nathan Smith was an intelligent man, one who knew what he wanted and strived to get it.” Violet spoke the words Winter had told her to speak. “He loved his wife, and provided for his family using his talents and his eye for detail. Whilst he was a man of few words, and a man who was not afraid to speak his mind, he didn’t lose sight of the true meaning of life: happiness. His wife always came first.”
At the funeral, hidden behind a cliff face and on a small and secluded beach, Winter didn’t cry. She held her mother, frail and thin, and listened to her wails, as her husband’s coffin was taken by the tide first.
Violet walked slowly across the untouched sand, and placed a hand on Caroline’s makeshift coffin. If Winter looked at it long enough, she could see glimpses of Caroline’s body. She tore her eyes away. She couldn’t do it.
“Caroline saved our lives.” Violet sighed. “Without her, none of us would be here today. She helped form The Union with two girls who sadly didn’t make it. She was a warrior, a saviour and a young woman who had fought her own inner demons and put them aside for the safety of others.” Violet looked down at the coffin. “Caroline, I thank you for that night when you saved us from our burning ship, and took us into the deep end. Without you, we would have not known the truth. Without you, we could have been anybody other than ourselves.”
Cedric used his strength to push the coffin forwards, and then it was taken away by the tide. Winter still didn’t cry. She thought of Caroline, of the friendship they could have had, and wished she was still here.
Zach placed a hand to his lips as Violet walked over to the last coffin. She seemed to be battling with what to say, and Winter wanted to console her. There was so much she wanted to say about the last person lying in that coffin, but she couldn’t. She didn’t have the words. She didn’t have the acceptance that he was truly gone.
“Connor,” Violet began, but Cedric stepped forwards.
“Can I?”
Violet blinked, but nodded. “Of course.”
She stepped aside, and Cedric looked up at the grey clouds swirling in the first day of January. He sighed. “Connor Getty was the first man who trusted me. When I found him in a shack in London, I had no idea how important he would be. He believed what I had to say, and he didn’t question me…too much, on my ideas and my process. He accepted that working with me was saving what we once had. I respected that.”
Winter wanted to roll her eyes. It seemed Cedric was using this as a platform for himself, more than Connor.
“Connor developed relationships with many. He was funny, had charisma, and he was keen to develop and help out where he could. He learnt quickly, and he put it into action. His life was a struggle. He was captured as soon as we got to Paris by Maria and Ruby, two people we will destroy. Those two women who we so foolishly trusted, who I so foolishly trusted, are nothing but scum. They will be our targets. We will avenge this young man’s death. We tried our best, and we must all know that Connor would be proud of us. We helped him, and he knew that. But he was always a target, and eventually he was caught. Unfortunately, we have lost a valuable member of our team.”
A lone tear fell from Winter’s green eyes. She quickly wiped it away and looked out at the sea, where her father’s coffin had already sunk.
“Connor Getty will be remembered. He was immune, and he will be vital in creating a cure. His death will be a reminder that we must continue to fight. For him, for William, for Lara, and for Caroline and Nathan. We will remember them all, but we will remember who Connor was, and his importance to the future.” Cedric looked down at Connor’s coffin. “So long, mate.”
Winter wanted to step forwards. She wanted to say her goodbyes. She wanted to thank Connor for being a friend, for trusting her, for understanding who she was. A boy she had met a few months ago, who had saved her in London, was now leaving her forever. Life had thrown her the worst curve ball she had ever experienced.
And then he was gone. His coffin was drifting out to sea, and he was leaving them.
The crowd on the beach began to head back to a waiting car. They were not far away from their home Heidi had secured. Heidi placed a hand on Winter, but didn’t say a word. She just half-smiled and left.
“We’ll remember him,” Missy whispered.
Winter said nothing. Her friends left her stood with her mother on the beach, watching spots where the coffins had sunk.
“I love you, Winter.” Olivia sobbed, clutching her daughter tightly.
Winter said nothing. A light rain began to fall, and Winter thought of nothing but the future. It was time to destroy the establishment. It was time to get revenge.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jack Strange, or J.S. Strange, is an author from South Wales. His previous work includes the first instalment of the Winter Smith series, ‘Winter Smith: London’s Burning’. The zombie apocalypse series was first written in 2012, when Jack was seventeen. In April 2016, Jack finally published the first book in the Winter Smith series. Since then, Jack has been working away on the second instalment, and the continued plots for the rest of the series of Winter Smith. That’s right, there will be a third Winter Smith novel!
As well as writing, Jack runs his own videography and website design company called Brother Hipster Productions. Jack manages this company with his boyfriend, James Griffiths. Jack is also the owner of clothing company, Strange Apparel.
A message from J.S. Strange
I need to say thank you. I’ve always wanted to publish a novel, so when I finally published my first in April 2016, I was on cloud nine. To be honest, I still am. I thank every single person who has bought a copy of London’s Burning, whether that be through Amazon UK, USA or Europe, or at trade shows such as horror cons. For someone to be interested in a book I wrote and to read it and enjoy it and leave valuable feedback is something I greatly appreciate.
But writing this second Winter Smith novel has been an incredibly bumpy ride! It took me five drafts to be completely happy with the direction The Secrets of France was going. Characters came and went, and different plots came into play, until eventually the final plot was different elements of each draft I painstakingly wrote. Writing a follow up to the first novel was incredibly difficult, because I began to realise there were people waiting to read this second one, and I needed this to be good. I finally had to tell myself to forget the reader – sorry! – and just write the story, and I finally managed to do so. It also helped that after finishing this novel, I visited Paris for the first time, and went to The Louvre to ensure my descriptions were accurate enough.
I have to apologise for the delay in getting the second novel out there. You can blame my crippling self-doubt in my storytelling for that. What I’d like to say to you now, the reader, is thank you so much for getting this book. If you’ve been here since London’s Burning, I truly hope The Secrets of France lived up to expectations, and I hope it has left you wanting more. There will be more! If you have not been here since London’s Burning, I need to tell you about it. The Secrets of France is the second instalment of the Winter Smith series! Get yourself a copy of the first immediately!
And finally, if you have read this book, or you have any thoughts on it, please leave a review on Amazon UK, Europe and USA. Every review helps! Please review it on Goodreads, recommend it to groups and readers and book clubs. With your help, we can get Winter out there!
Acknowledgements
First
ly, my thanks go to you, the reader. Thanks for taking the time to read a book written by a twenty-two year-old Welsh boy. Thanks for getting to the end, and thanks for your time. I truly hope you’ve enjoyed the second instalment of the Winter Smith series, and I hope you’ll stick around for the third.
Thank you to my boyfriend, James. Your support is always there, and you’re always pushing me to do things I may not have done otherwise.
Thank you to my editors and fellow authors, C L Raven, for boosting my confidence with this book when my doubt kept hindering me and kept holding me back. Thank you for taking the time to go through the final plot and adjust what I may have missed.
Thank you also to my Mum for giving the seal of approval on this novel, and the final once over, giving me a peace of mind that this novel is the best it can be. I know the zombie genre is your favourite, so I hope the twists I’ve added on it is still something you can get on board with!
I should probably mention my Dad; why haven’t you read London’s Burning yet?
Thanks to my sisters, Becky and Emma, for supporting and encouraging my growth, both with writing and business.
And finally, thanks to my cat Lara for watching me when I’m writing, and to Oscar for walking over my keyboard and trying to help when I was at the worst of my writer’s block. And to Herbie: you weren’t here for the writing process, but during the editing process you did not fail to meow your opinions.
www.twitter.com/JackSamStrange
www.facebook.com/JackSamuelStrange
www.jackschapter.wordpress.com
Winter Smith (Book 2): The Secrets of France Page 34
