Flowers Vs. Zombies: The Complete Series

by Perrin Briar

  He bent down and picked up one end. His knees shook and the blood rushed to his head. He hefted it onto his knees and dragged it along the floor. He angled it sideways so he could manoeuvre it through the door.

  Bill passed through the door, having to head in the opposite direction to the one he wanted. He swept the torchlight over the shadows. Satisfied they were empty, he pulled the panel deeper into the darkness. He came to an abrupt stop. He pulled on the panel but it wouldn’t budge.

  The panel was stuck fast between the doorframes on either side. He hit the panel with his palm and shook it to vent his frustration.

  “Damn!” he said.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ERNEST SAT with a metal box between his legs. Beside him was a small pot over a fire that issued foul-smelling smoke. His face was black with soot. He picked the pot up in a gloved hand and poured a few drops of the molten metal onto the join between two wires. He blew on it. The metal turned a dull grey as it cooled and hardened.

  The foliage shook. Ernest froze, holding his breath. He got to his feet and picked up a thick wedge of wood. Fritz poked his head around the corner. Ernest sighed and relaxed.

  “Why didn’t you say the password?” Ernest said. “I almost had a heart attack.”

  “What’s the password, again?” Fritz said.

  “Cytosine,” Ernest said.

  “Right,” Fritz said. “Next time try using a word I actually know.”

  “How come I’m the one who always gets to make these things?” Ernest said.

  “You’re better at it than me,” Fritz said.

  “I doubt that,” Ernest said.

  “Plus, you agreed to it, remember?” Fritz said.

  “Look, Fritz,” Ernest said, scratching his head with a black thumb. “I have to tell you, I’m not all that comfortable doing this without telling Father.”

  “You wouldn’t be doing it if we told Father,” Fritz said.

  “Exactly,” Ernest said. “Do we have to do this?”

  “Do you want to eat berries and coconuts for the next fifty years?” Fritz said.

  “Don’t exaggerate,” Ernest said.

  “Ten years, then,” Fritz said.

  “I’m beginning to develop a taste for it, actually,” Ernest said.

  “Really?” Fritz said.

  “No,” Ernest said.

  “Well then,” Fritz said. “How’s it coming along?”

  “Not bad,” Ernest said. “I finished the prototype. It would be easier if we had a better way to join the wire frame together.”

  “There is no easier way,” Fritz said.

  Ernest stretched his back. His spine popped.

  “Let’s go set it up,” he said.

  They concealed it beneath vegetation so as not to be seen. Concerned they wouldn’t be able to find it again, Ernest made markings on nearby trees.

  “Done,” Ernest said. “Quick, let’s get out of here.”

  “Wait,” Fritz said. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Ernest said. “Don’t scare me.”

  “Sh.”

  Cheep!

  “That,” Fritz said.

  Fritz headed deeper into the jungle.

  “I’m not sure we should be following random noises we hear in the jungle,” Ernest said.

  Cheep!

  “Sounds like it’s coming from this way,” Fritz said.

  Ernest looked in every direction but the one they were going, head swivelling on his neck.

  Something small and fuzzy hopped from between a nest of tree roots. A little chick, brown with black stripes over its head and wings, flapped amongst the foliage, tripping and falling over more often than it was on its feet. Cheep!

  “He must have fallen from his nest,” Fritz said.

  Ernest looked up at the immense height of the sequoia tree before them.

  “Hell of a long way to fall,” he said.

  Fritz bent down and reached for the chick.

  “Don’t pick it up!” Ernest said.

  “Why not?” Fritz said.

  “Didn’t you pay attention during any of your classes?” Ernest said. “If he smells like you his parents might disown him.”

  “How’s he going to get back up into his nest, then?” Fritz said.

  “He’s not,” Ernest said.

  “We can’t just leave him to die,” Fritz said.

  “Survival of the fittest,” Ernest said. “He’s not fit.”

  “He probably just fell,” Fritz said. “We’re all allowed one mistake.”

  “Not in the wild you’re not,” Ernest said.

  Fritz bent down and picked the chick up.

  “That’s done it,” Ernest said, throwing up his hands. “What are you going to do with him now?”

  “I’ll raise him,” Fritz said.

  Ernest snorted.

  “Yeah, right,” he said.

  “What?” Fritz said. “Think I can’t?”

  “Oh, I know you can’t,” Ernest said. “The idea of you taking responsibility for something brings me out in hives. You might as well leave the chick here. At least it’ll die quicker.”

  “He’s not going to die,” Fritz said. “I’m going to raise him.”

  “I suppose we can always eat him when you get bored of him,” Ernest said.

  “I’m not going to get bored of him- Eugh!’ Fritz said.

  A pale yellow liquid dribbled from between Fritz’s fingers.

  “Beautiful,” Fritz said.

  “You can look forward to a lot more of that over the next few weeks,” Ernest said. “What are you going to call it?”

  Fritz thought for a moment.

  “Beauty,” he said. “I’m going to call him Beauty.” He frowned. “Maybe it’s not such an appropriate name for a boy bird.”

  “You’re in luck,” Ernest said, peering close at the chick. “I don’t think he’s a him. He’s a she.”

  “How do you know that?” Fritz said.

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Ernest said. “Now, let’s get out of here.”

  “Beauty will protect us if anything happens,” Fritz said.

  “Sure,” Ernest said. “She can cute our enemies to death.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “NO,” BILL SAID. “Absolutely not.”

  “But I’ll train her,” Fritz said.

  “You’ve never trained an animal before,” Bill said.

  “Everyone has to start somewhere,” Fritz said.

  “She might turn out to be a duck for all you know,” Bill said.

  “I don’t think many ducks nest fifty feet up in a tree, Dad,” Fritz said.

  “Did you see her fall?” Bill said.

  “No.”

  “Then how can you know she fell from anywhere?” Bill said.

  Liz turned to Bill.

  “I would like to cook some dishes with birds,” she said. “I’m not sure how we’d be able to catch them otherwise, do you?”

  “We could set traps,” Bill said.

  “And they’ve worked well so far,” Fritz said. “I just think we should consider different ways of catching them. Beauty could be really useful for our life on the island.”

  “You’ve already named her?” Bill said.

  Fritz shrugged.

  “She’s going to be a great addition to our family, you’ll see,” he said. He gulped. He could see Bill was on the fence. “And if she doesn’t turn out to be of much use I’ll give her to Mum to cook.”

  Bill sighed and shook his head.

  “These aren’t the feet of a duck,” Ernest said. “Or of any other land-based bird. They’re talons. She’ll grow into a hunter.”

  “There you go!” Fritz said.

  “We can’t spare the food to feed her,” Bill said.

  “She can have some of mine,” Fritz said. “When she grows she’ll be able to catch her own food, and ours too. She’ll catch things twice her size and we’ll be able to have pheasant and duck
and pigeon and whatever else she brings us.”

  Bill pressed his lips together.

  “All right,” he said. “Fine. Keep it.”

  “Yes!” Fritz said.

  “I’m not finished,” Bill said. “You’re responsible for her. You’ll raise her, hand rear her, train her. If when she’s fully grown she can’t hunt she’ll be on the menu.”

  Fritz smiled and stroked the head of the little chick. A thin trickle of yellow dribbled between his fingers.

  “First lesson, toilet training,” Bill said.

  “She’s just excited,” Fritz said, turning to leave.

  “Can I have a pet too?” Jack said.

  “Definitely not,” Bill said.

  “How come Fritz can have one?” Jack said.

  “He’s older,” Bill said. “When you’re Fritz’s age, come ask me again.”

  “But we might not be here by then!” Jack said.

  “You’d better hope we’re not,” Bill said. “In which case I’ll get you a pet turtle.”

  “Not a turtle,” Jack said. “Turtles are boring.”

  “Exactly,” Bill said.

  “I want an ostrich, or a tiger, or something I can ride,” Jack said.

  “How about a bike?” Bill said. “I’ll put feathers on it for you.”

  Jack stomped away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  JACK KICKED a tree in impotent rage. He turned to look at the treehouse, where he knew his father to be, and with deliberate movement placed his foot in the jungle. He smiled, poking his tongue out at the treehouse.

  Scree!

  Jack started, hopping out of the jungle.

  The scream came again. Somewhere deep in the jungle. It pierced Jack to the soul. He turned to look back at the treehouse. His mother hadn’t entered the jungle, had she?

  Scree!

  The scream was high pitched, terrified and scared. With just a moment’s hesitation, Jack turned and ran into the jungle. A surprised family of rodents turned and took off into the bushes. Jack leapt over a fallen log.

  Scree!

  It came from his right. Jack jumped, his foot finding a tree trunk. He pushed himself off it, forcing himself to the right. He reached up, his hands finding a clutch of vines. He swung forward, the momentum taking him up. He pulled with his arms and threw himself forward, hitting the low-hanging branch of a tree with his stomach. He grunted and let himself fall to the ground.

  He peered around, waiting for the scream to come again, trying to recall from which direction he’d heard it. Was he too late?

  Scree!

  Jack burst forward and crashed through a bush in front of him, the leaves whipping the exposed skin on his arms, face and neck. Jack skidded to a stop.

  The snake’s head, jet black with red triangular pattern on its nose, turned to look at him. Its forked tongue flicked up and down rapidly, and then drew back inside its thick lips. The folds on either side of its head expanded, making its head seem to quadruple in size. Its muscular body tensed, drawing itself up taller, up to Jack’s sternum.

  Jack’s eyes flickered to the small figure behind the snake, pressed up against the rock. A baby capuchin monkey with a tuft of yellow hair on its head stared up at Jack with big eyes. Beside it were the curled black finger-like toes of an adult capuchin, protruding from under a fern, unmoving. The baby capuchin made a soft mewling noise. The snake turned toward it.

  “Hey!” Jack said.

  The snake snapped back to look at Jack. It coiled itself up, placing itself between the monkey and Jack, who cautiously approached.

  Jack kept his eyes fixed firmly on the snake, its eyes black and dead as night. The rattle on the end of its tail shook, loud and clear, a warning that chilled Jack to the bone. Jack reached for a stick he saw out the corner of his eye, never taking his eyes off the snake.

  The snake pulled its head back and struck fast, but Jack was ready, and swung the stick up, connecting with the snake’s head, knocking it to the side. It bounced back like it was on a spring. It shook its head, recovering from the blow. Jack held the stick in his hands, legs feeling like they were moving in treacle.

  The snake leaned back, coiling its body up for another strike. It snapped forward. Jack raised the stick to strike the snake again, but knew he’d moved too early. The snake closed its jaws around the stick and pulled with surprising strength. Jack kept hold of it, but stumbled forward. The snake released the stick and shot straight down for Jack’s exposed ankle.

  Jack pulled his leg back just in time – the snake smacking its head on the ground. Jack swung the stick, striking the snake around the head. Once, twice, three times.

  The snake unfurled its body and slithered into the undergrowth. Jack held the stick out, waiting for the snake to make another attack. Jack had seen too many horror films to believe that was the end. He held the stick out, aimed at the underbrush where the snake had slithered.

  Jack took a few steps back, toward the monkey, which leaned away from him and griped the fur of the adult lying on the ground. Jack poked the adult monkey, but she did not respond. Her skin felt cold.

  “Come on,” Jack said, reaching for the baby capuchin. “I’ll take care of you.”

  Jack took him in his arms. The capuchin kept his eyes on his fallen mother until long after she disappeared from sight. He made a soft mawing sound, peering around for something that was no longer there.

  Chapter Nineteen

  JACK STOOD on the edge of the jungle clearing, watching as Fritz and Ernest headed into the treehouse. Jack took off his jacket and wrapped it around the baby capuchin, keeping it warm. He hugged it against his chest.

  Jack waited a moment longer and then stole across the open space. He leaned against the tree, his back to the bark. The capuchin made soft mewling noises and reached up with its tiny hands for Jack’s face.

  “Sh,” Jack said, pressing the monkey’s tiny hands back inside the jacket. “Not now.”

  “Have you seen Jack?” Liz’s voice said from inside the treehouse.

  Jack looked up through a thin crack in the branches. Liz’s back was to him. She was addressing Fritz and Ernest.

  “No,” Fritz said. “Not since dinner.”

  “Ernest?” Liz said.

  “Me neither,” Ernest said.

  “When he comes back make sure to tell me,” Liz said.

  Liz walked to the edge of the landing and stood there a moment, looking out at the jungle. Jack reached up and tugged on Liz’s skirt. She appeared not to have noticed, so he tugged harder. Jack waved his fingers under the landing and waited. Liz’s head popped over the edge.

  “Jack?” she said. “What are you doing? It’s bedtime.”

  Jack beckoned her to join him.

  “I haven’t got time to play games,” Liz said. “Get ready for bed.”

  “Please, come here,” Jack said.

  Liz sighed and shook her head.

  “Fine,” she said, climbing down the ladder. “But don’t for a second think you’re going to stay up late.”

  She joined Jack under the landing.

  “What is it?” she said.

  Jack put his finger to his lips.

  “Sh,” he said.

  “What is it, Jack?” Liz said, not lowering her voice.

  Jack opened his jacket, revealing the baby capuchin. Liz started back.

  “What is that?” she said. “A rat?”

  The baby monkey squirmed in Jack’s arms.

  “Quiet!” Jack said. “You’re scaring him!”

  “I’m scaring him?” Liz said. “I nearly had a heart attack!”

  “It’s a baby monkey,” Jack said.

  “Jack, you’ve gone too far this time,” Liz said.

  “I can take care of him,” Jack said.

  “In Switzerland when you misbehaved we put up with it because it’s a part of growing up,” Liz said. “We knew you were never going to get into any real trouble. But we’re on an island now, an island brimming wit
h dangerous creatures. You have to learn to listen to us.”

  “I thought he was you,” Jack said.

  “Thanks,” Liz said. “That makes me feel better. You can’t just take a baby from its family, Jack. What were you thinking? Go take him back.”

  “I didn’t take him from his nest,” Jack said. “He was about to be attacked by a snake.”

  “A snake?” Liz said. “Where did you find him?”

  “In the jungle,” Jack said.

  “The jung-?” Liz shook her head. “So not only did you steal a monkey but you went into the jungle – alone – to do it? Your father isn’t going to be happy about this. Take him back before his mother notices he’s gone.”

  “His mother’s dead,” Jack said with tears in his eyes. “She died trying to protect him. I found him before the snake got him too. I didn’t steal him. If I left him he would be dead. I shouldn’t have just left him, should I?”

  Liz was surprised by Jack’s emotional outburst.

  “No,” she said. “You shouldn’t have. You know these things have nits, diseases?”

  “I’ll pick his nits tomorrow,” Jack said.

  “No, you’ll do it tonight,” Liz said. “And give him a bath. You’re not bringing him into the house until he’s clean.”

  “So, I can keep him?” Jack said.

  “Yes, you can keep him,” Liz said. “But you’re going to have to explain it to your brothers. I’ll tell your father. But not tonight. He’s already reeling from the bird. If he thinks he’s raising a zoo he’ll explode.”

  The baby monkey reached up for Jack’s T-shirt and squeezed.

  “Ow!” Jack said. “He keeps squeezing my nipple!”

  “He must be hungry,” Liz said. “I’ll fix him something to eat.”

  She went to a box of random items that had washed up on the shore. She came out with a cracked baby bottle. She rinsed it with water and then added some coconut milk.

  “I never thought I’d have need for another one of these things,” Liz said, handing over the baby bottle.

  “What do I do with it?” Jack said.

  “Just give it to him,” Liz said. “He’ll know what to do.”