It was a zombie.
Of course it was a bloody zombie, what else was it going to be? But he wished it was Bayleigh. At least it was only one, he could manage one.
He sneered at himself. Why did he still get this fear every time one of the sodding things turned up? He thought he’d got this sorted. He’d killed them and done it well. So why was he still so scared? He gritted his teeth and tried to still the churning in his stomach. He wanted to move closer, to ready himself, but his legs were shaking too hard.
So he watched it come closer until it almost touched him before he swore, dropped his knife, and raised the pole between them. The zombie grabbed it and yanked it from his hand where it clattered to the floor. Alex scrambled to get away but the zombie was too close and its claws caught in his hair.
He twisted his head but succeeded only in head-butting the zombie’s other hand. Its nails dug into his cheek and he shouted, lashing out. His fist struck something soft and sunk in. He gagged as warmth splashed across his knuckles. He felt blind, his eyes filled with the zombie’s face as the reek overpowered him. He brought his other fist back and struck again. Something snapped beneath the blow.
The zombie showed no signs of being injured. It yanked his head up as it tried to pull him closer. Alex had a sudden vision of Dave battering the zombie to death a few feet from where he stood. If Dave could do it, so could he. He didn’t need a weapon.
He clenched his blood-soaked fist and slammed it in again. It hit what he thought was the stomach and the skin gave way. The smell of rotting meat and shit joined the ever-present scent of zombie and he retched. His open mouth filled with half a claw, the fingers like cold, manky sausages filling his throat.
One caught the back of his throat and he vomited, sick filling his mouth and spilling out down the zombie’s arm. That was enough. He freaked out, fists piling in again and again until they were both hot with blood and intestines. He wrenched his head from side to side but two of the zombie’s nails were digging into the inside of his cheek and he couldn’t dislodge them.
He could punch all his wanted, it would make no difference. The realisation brought with it a dull sort of calm. This was simple. Either he manned up and did what needed to be done, or he died. Holding onto that thought, he clamped his teeth together. The rotting fingers fell onto his tongue.
Dave
The rain-slick streets tried to throw him at every turn. The tyres of his push bike slid out as he took the corner onto The Strand and he gripped the handlebars tighter. He’d found the bike in a long row of identical blue vehicles. It had needed money to release it but he figured he could spare a few pounds now. And it wasn’t like anyone was going to fine him if he brought it back late.
It wasn’t as fast as a car but with the traffic the way it was, he could cross the city faster. So long as he stayed upright and moved forwards. Az could have taken him most of the way, he was sure, but the demon had looked grumpy and flexed a few muscles. Dave had scrambled down the ladder and out of the theatre before all that suppressed anger could explode at him.
There was something else driving him.
He could feel them, two tiny beings growing and swelling in the distant building. As he passed alleyways and side streets it flashed into view, a spire of light beckoning him. They were there. His children were there.
He shook his head. They weren’t his children. None of this was his. He wasn’t responsible for the zombies or the soldiers or the ladies or the bloody rain. He wasn’t responsible for any of this and his absence of feeling was being swallowed by resentment. Anger as well, rage at the bastard who tore his wing and drove him from the tower.
He blinked, the bike bounced off the curb, and skidded sideways. He put out a leg but he was going far too fast and his leg folded beneath him as he went over. The bike skidded away across the wet street and he landed on his hip with a grunt. He leapt straight up, jumping for the bike while looking in all directions.
There were no zombies close enough to catch him so he stopped, resting his hands on his knees and taking a few breaths. What had he been thinking? He didn’t have wings, that was Az. They were linked, he and the demon, and he didn’t know whether it was just knowing that made it stronger or if it was the babies.
He straightened, blinking and shaking his head. Why hadn’t he questioned Az about the births? He said they were being born in a day or two, but when had they been conceived? Why had he left it until now to get them safe? There was more here than he was being told and… he didn’t care overmuch. He wasn’t too bothered, really.
What he was bothered about was getting the children and making them safe. That was his number one priority. That was his only priority. Smiling with satisfaction, he pulled the bike up, clambered on, and pedalled away.
The Shard grew larger with every revolution of the pedals. He barely felt the rain that drove into his eyes and ran down his neck. His clothes were soaked through. He should have got a rain mac with the stove. He should have brought his rucksack with him. There were lots of things he should have done, but something had blocked out those logical leanings when he raced from the theatre.
The street lights clipped the wave tips as he crossed the Thames, covering it in sparkling stars. The zombies lurched in both directions across the bridge, not the least bit bothered by the rain. He’d reached the peak of the bridge when the first thunder sounded. There was a zombie ten feet in front of him and, as the sound roared across the sky, it fell to its knees. It cowered, or did the best impression one could expect from a zombie.
He almost stopped in surprise. Zombies all around him were responding the same way, toppling over completely in some cases. As the rumbling died away, they clambered up and went about their business. The lightning that followed had no effect at all.
Dave kept pedalling, craning his neck to see the tip of the Shard looming high above him. He slowed as he entered the neatly-landscaped area that surrounded it, watching the front of the building. There was no sign of life save the light that glowed through the front windows. As he cycled slowly across the paved area, he spotted a huge mound of bones littering the floor in front of the doors.
He rested his bike against the glass and took a deep breath. He was here and he could do this. He had to, his children were up there. He pushed open the door and stepped out of the rain. The abrupt cessation of the beating on his head was a surprising relief and he stood still for a moment, enjoying the peace. The storm still roared outside but the slap of the rain against the pavement drowned out the voice that threatened to creep through the surety in his mind.
He headed for the lifts, not bothering to close the doors behind him. He liked the sound. The lift doors hissed open and he stepped in. As the lift rose, he stared at himself in the wall of mirror. His hair was longer, reaching his ears and gathering in his collar. His eyes were different than he remembered, though he didn’t know which ‘when’ he remembered.
So much of his life was shrouded in mist now, and he didn’t know what had occurred pre-zombie and what had happened since. Something had happened in between and driven him to seek Az’s help, but he couldn’t say what it was or why it had happened.
One thing remained, though, cutting through the mist like a lighthouse. He remembered his promise to kill Luke. The angel had been responsible for what happened to him and for that, he would die. He felt it like a brand on his skin that itched and stung as he rubbed it. It would never go away and he was happy for that. It gave him purpose.
He squeezed the top of his nose between his fingers, blinking. What was he thinking? His purpose was the children he would find here. The doors hissed open and he peered out of the lift. The corridor was carpeted in pale green and the walls matched it for dullness. The occasional tables that dotted the corridor were just the same.
He sniffed and stepped out. One of the ladies emerged from a door a few metres down the corridor, saw him, and froze. He tried a smile and it came easy and felt good. He strode towards her, tryi
ng to give the impression of calm, open confidence. It worked.
Her shoulders relaxed and she took her arms from where they wrapped around her waist and let them hang by her sides.
‘Hi, I’m Dave, do you remember me?’
‘You were with us in the hospital.’
‘I’ve come from the others. They, we, need your help. You were right about Luke.’
She looked sympathetic and joined him as he walked down the corridor.
‘He sent someone here, a demon, to rape you. Has he been here?’
The lady nodded. ‘He left a few hours ago. We’re still recovering.’
‘Is Jackson okay? Is the Lord’s chosen being cared for?’
‘Of course he is. He is…’ She frowned and sniffed. ‘He lost his left hand. It is a miracle he is still alive after what he did. He saved us.’
‘So no one was… attacked?’ He knew, somehow, that he was modulating his voice just the right amount.
‘Two were… before Jackson saved us.’
‘Can I see them? I need to bring proof of Luke’s wrong doing before the rest of your number will follow me here. I have to save them.’
The lady nodded, looking hopelessly pious and gullible. He bit his lip to stop himself laughing. This was as easy as charming them the first time around. Dave squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find where he ended and Az began. But there was no line inside. He was lost, and something far larger and far stronger guided him. He longed to break free, to become himself, but who was he? How could he find himself if he didn’t know who he was?
The lady took him down a side corridor and through a door into a hotel suite. They walked straight through the small antechamber and paused in front of another door.
‘They are… they’re changed. Be prepared, this isn’t something you’ll be ready to see.’
He could see them already. Az had a picture in his mind, of bellies swollen beyond what was natural. But he nodded and looked suitably concerned, so she led him in. There was a double bed upon which one women lay on her back. A quilt lay over her legs, but her bump was exposed and despite the picture in his mind, he still gasped.
Red, pulsing veins ran across her belly like the lightning that cut the night sky outside the window. Her face was pale and sweaty, and she scowled as he entered.
‘What’s he doing here?’
Her voice sounded stretched as well, thin and ready to snap. Dave approached the bedside, reaching for her hand. She snatched it away and stared at him. Her eyes were wild, glaring one minute and spinning in circles the next.
‘I’m here to help.’
‘You’re here from the devil. This is his fault.’
‘It is, that’s right. I need to take proof back to the other ladies so they will believe he is evil and come here to join you.’
Her eyes focused and bore into him. He held his breath, waiting for her to call him out. But she wouldn’t, no more than the lady who had brought her here would. They wanted him to be telling the truth. They wanted Luke brought low, and their righteous condemnation to be justified.
The ladies back at the hospital who had driven him out would be feeling something similar. But they had a dead body to point at. These women had nothing, not until Az arrived. Dave smiled and reached for her hand. She took it and squeezed hard. He turned the smile on the woman who had led him in.
‘Could you leave us, just for a minute?’
She nodded and scooted from the room. He leant closer and tried the smile again. ‘You bear a child. It is a very special child and it cannot be cared for here. I can care for it, and for you, if you come with me.’
She nodded, her lips slightly parted. Her eyes had completely focused now and her breathing had eased. He thought she was going to kiss him for a moment and he’d have welcomed it, though he didn’t know why. Then she lay back and gestured to her bump.
‘I can’t move, not with this.’
‘I’ll help. Come on.’
He lifted the covers off her legs and she twisted sideways. He helped her stand and she groaned, dropping her head into her chest and bending at the waist.
‘I can’t, I can’t move.’
‘You must move. We must get you to safety.’
‘Why isn’t it safe here?’
‘There are too many people here. They won’t understand the specialness of your child, they won’t know how to treat him.’
‘It’s a boy?’
He nodded, though he had no idea. It felt right, though. He grabbed a bathrobe off the back of the door and helped her slip it on. The rain still battered the windows and he stared across the city, trying to spot the theatre. How were they going to get there without getting soaked? He wasn’t even convinced they’d get there without her giving birth.
This was his destiny. He needed to stop doubting and get on with it. The future lay ahead and it was a future he’d spent centuries planning. There could be no doubt now.
He put his arm around her and she leant heavy on him as he led her back into the lounge area. The lady outside gasped and he smiled at her and nodded. ‘You may accompany us, to care for her, if you wish.’
The lady beamed and opened the other door. The woman inside was in the same state and responded just as well to his gentle coercion. Soon the four of them stepped out into the corridor, Dave between them and his helper on the far side, supporting the weaker as best she could.
They made slow progress down the corridor, stopping every few steps to take long breaths and wipe sweat from foreheads. The lifts were in sight when he heard a throat being cleared behind him. It was a sound he recognised, filled with phlegm and, he saw as he turned, blood. Jackson filled the corridor. His left hand trailed flesh blood on the carpet and his mouth was covered in it.
Krystal
The hospital lay ahead and she’d never been happier to see it. She rode right up to the doorway and, as it hissed open, pulled in. There was a zombie writhing on the floor and it took her a moment to realise there was someone beneath it.
She yelped and scrambled off the bike, drawing her sword in the same motion. She couldn’t swing too wide for fear of hitting the person below. They were struggling, so still alive at least. She skipped around the creature, draw the sword back, and drove it point-first through its temple. It erupted from the other side in a spray of blood. The spattering on the floor mingled with the storm so she wasn’t sure what was rain and what was blood.
She hauled the sword out as the body sagged, then grabbed the zombie by the shoulder and heaved it away. Alex lay beneath and she gasped. His face was covered in a mixture of blood and sick. The moment he was freed, he rolled onto his side and spat what looked a pair of fingers onto the floor of the hospital.
Then he puked until he was bucking like a cat, spitting bile onto the floor. She stepped away, wrinkling her nose, and wiped her sword on the corpse. Finally Alex got onto his hands and knees.
‘Hey, you alright?’ Krystal asked, trying not to smile.
His eyes told her a very different story to the ‘yeah’ he mumbled between bile-soaked lips. He rose to his feet like an old man and she patted him on the shoulder. ‘Hey, could be worse. At least we’re back.’
He nodded, trying a smile that looked entirely fake. ‘Ready to go?’
‘Go? Bloody hell, go where?’
‘We’re leaving, now.’ Bayleigh said as she stepped in through the door, accompanied by the rain. Krystal thought Alex was going to hug her. It would have been about time, but instead he walked straight past and out into the rain. He tipped his head back and let the water stream into his mouth. Bayleigh watched him for a second, then gave her a look. She mimed puking and pointed at the fingers, half-hidden beneath the pile of sick. Bayleigh covered her mouth and turned away.
‘Why’re we leaving now?’
‘Alex called me. The devices have run out. It’s not safe here.’
‘Oh crap. Well, we got the van, so let’s go, I suppose.’
‘They’re waitin
g for you.’ Alex said as he stomped back in. ‘Give Luke a call and he’ll bring them down.’ He was still pale, but the rain had washed some of the blood off and left him shaking and wet. She patted his shoulder and got him sat down. His smile was closer to real this time.
Bayleigh talked for a moment on the phone before slipping it into her pocket.
‘I’m going up to help them out. You two stay and guard, right?’
Krystal nodded, drawing her sword and taking up her station by the door. Alex stayed where he was as Bayleigh dashed up the stairs. There was silence for a few moments and Krystal sagged a little. How much longer was it going to be before she got sleep?
She’d have to ride through the bloody rain again until they reached somewhere ‘safe.’ She winced and rolled her shoulders. She’d do it because she had to, but if she couldn’t spend at least one day in the next three lying on a bed, heck, lying on the floor, doing nothing, she was gonna get in Luke’s face.
‘How do you do it?’
‘Huh?’
‘How do you do it?’ Alex looked lost and sheepish. ‘When they’re coming at you, how do you attack them?’
‘Normally I start with a long swing, something to keep them at bay. Then I just go for the head—’
‘I don’t mean like that. I just mean… how are you not scared?’
She burst out laughing, resting one hand on her hip and letting the tip of her sword rest on the floor. ‘You think I’m not scared?’
‘Well, not enough that you run away or freeze up.’
‘Is that what happened, you know, with ‘fingers guy’?’ He blanched and looked away. She grinned, unable to stop herself, and shook her head. ‘Sorry, that was harsh. I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’
‘I just don’t. I’ve seen friends beaten crapless by the police. I mean, with boots and truncheons till they couldn’t stand. I’ve seen the same thing done by football fans and other homeless people. I’ve gone four days without eating a single thing. I’ve slept out when it’s so cold I didn’t expect to wake up and when I did I wasn’t sure I wanted to.’ Krystal took a deep breath. She hadn’t thought about any of this. ‘Compared to all that, zombies are still pretty fucking horrible, but I can deal with them.’
Thirteen Roses Book Five: Home: A Paranormal Zombie Saga Page 5
