Adrenal7n

by Russ Watts

  Vigo Street abruptly ended and the street opened out in front of them. The door to a large bookstore was open and mountains of books and papers lined the pavement outside the entrance. It looked as if someone had stacked them up as some sort of shield or barrier, yet it had been ineffective. Bashar saw several zombies milling around the interior.

  “This way,” announced Tony. “We’ll head down Piccadilly.”

  The road was wider here and Bashar felt exposed. The demon was still trashing London and the zombies still following. If they got caught there was nowhere to hide. On the southern side of the road they passed a five star hotel with flags still fluttering outside. The doorman lay outside the revolving door, one arm clutching his hat, the other gnawed away down to the bone. A woman lay next to him, cold and dead. They passed a double decker bus on its side. Three bodies had been decapitated and a forth lay close by, a gaping hole in its head. They passed the Royal Academy of Arts and Bashar saw thick black smoke pouring from its roof. The smoke curled up into the clear sky and Bashar wondered how much of London would burn before the monster destroyed it. There were no engines to put out any fires, no sirens in the distance to herald help was at hand, and no more planes or bombs. Had the city been written off? Bashar began to think they might need to quicken their pace. If the city had been abandoned and the authorities decided there was nobody left alive worth saving, then what came next — bigger bombs?

  “I always wanted to stay there,” said Jo.

  “Sorry?” Bashar realised they had almost reached the edge of Green Park.

  “The Ritz. I always thought I would treat me and Amelia one day. You know, stay in one of their fancy suites. We wouldn’t go out and do anything, just stay in the room and order room service and be waited on as if we were princesses.”

  “Is that so?” Bashar looked at the hotel. The front façade had collapsed and only the exterior western wall was still standing from where the flags fluttered silently. The hotel looked like it had been lifted straight out of a warzone. Thick red curtains were draped over cracked brickwork, a black stretch limousine had been crushed underneath the lower level restaurant, and two imposing pillars at the hotel’s entrance were cracked. The whole place looked as if it was barely standing. On the third floor Bashar could see a large bed poking out from underneath a collapsed ceiling. White silk sheets had been stained with blood and a foot poked out from underneath the cover.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Amelia. “I just want to go home now.”

  Bashar smiled at the girl who held onto her mother’s hand. It was the first words he had heard her speak. She had her mother’s voice, soft and quiet. He assumed that she got her fiery red hair from her father but in attitude and demeanour they were very much alike. Bashar could see how Jo and Amelia doted on each other, and it was obvious Tony loved them like an extension of his own family.

  She’s waiting.

  “Fuck.” Tony had reached the underground. Bashar recognised the huge red circle on the outside of the entrance. The body of a child lay beneath it, huddled up against a bench, its face frozen in death, its eyes wide open, its mouth gaping and dripping with blood. Bashar found a large piece of beige linen that must have blown out of the hotel and dragged it over the body. Nobody needed to see the poor wretch like that. He ensured the child was hidden before Amelia could see it.

  “What happened?” asked Carrington.

  “Wait there,” ordered Bashar, and Carrington slumped down against the black railings that surrounded the underground.

  “What is it?” Bashar approached Tony who was rattling on the railings. On the other side Bashar could see an empty ticket booth and two escalators leading down into black hole. There was a barrier in front of them. The short metal doors were open, silent and motionless. Another body lay on the tiling in front of the booth, a man wearing a London Underground uniform. He was as dead as the child out front and Bashar cursed under his breath.

  “It’s bloody locked,” said Tony. “They must have evacuated and locked the station.”

  “Damn it.” Lissie pulled on the railings but nothing was budging. They simply rattled and remained firmly closed. “Can we go around? Is there any other way in?”

  “There’s another entrance over the road.” Rad pointed to a metal grill next to a café. “Looks locked too.”

  “We could climb over,” suggested Lulu. “If we help each other we can get over it. I’ll go first. I don’t mind. I’d rather get moving so I can get back to my boyfriend than hang around here.”

  Bashar looked down the street at the black railings. They stretched along the length of the park. The mist was clinging to the huge oak trees and green grass, and a row of black taxis sat silently leading toward Hyde Park and Knightsbridge. The park appeared to be empty and the road was quiet. The only noise came from the demon that was continuing to smash the city behind them.

  “How long before that thing finds us? We should climb over and go. We can get down into the tunnels before it sees us. It’s got to be safer down there than up here,” said Lulu.

  “I’ll give you a bunk up.” Rad positioned himself next to the railings and cupped his hands. “Once you’re over we’ll get Marama over and—”

  A deafening roar sent a chill through Bashar and he looked up to see the monster. It was still standing somewhere over Piccadilly Circus and throwing what looked like an articulated truck through the sky. The vehicle flew several hundred feet silently through the air and then plummeted to the ground in a fireball, somewhere in Hyde Park. Bashar watched in awe as the beast picked another vehicle up and tossed it around before crushing it in its jaws.

  “Stuff that, I’m going first. I’m not pissing around up here any longer.” Michelle jumped forward and stepped into Rad’s hands. She pulled herself up onto the top of the railings and then landed on the other side.

  “Okay, Rad, whenever you’re ready,” said Lulu. She could see several zombies start to wander into the road, emerging from the café opposite and Stratton Street. “I guess we’re not forming an orderly queue,” said Lulu, as she looked at Michelle.

  Michelle folded her arms. “Just hurry it up.”

  “Who died and made her boss?” muttered Rad, causing Marama to suppress a fit of laugher.

  As Lulu put a foot on Rad’s hands, Bashar interjected. “Wait.”

  Confused, Lulu followed Bashar’s eyes through the railings beyond Michelle. The entrance to the tube was dark, the gloom impenetrable. The escalators were switched off and yet somebody was climbing up. The thin figure of a man stepped up to the ticket barrier and stopped when he bumped into one of the doors.

  “Hey, mate, can you open this lock?” yelled Tony. “There’s a whole world of shit up here. We need to get across town. Are the tunnels safe?”

  “He can’t hear you, Tony,” said Bashar.

  “Hey, have you got the keys?” asked Michelle. “You need to open this gate right away.”

  “Oh my God,” whispered Lissie.

  Lulu and Rad stepped away from the fence as more people appeared from the underground. The thin man was soon joined by another man in a grey suit and greying hair. Blood dribbled down his chin and his white eyes rolled from left to right as he tried to find the living. A young woman with long sandy brown hair emerged and walked straight into the ticket barrier. Her bare arms were covered in bite marks and her face was expressionless even as the dead toddler in a sling over her shoulders buried its face into a deep wound around her neck. The child tore pieces of flesh from her upper body but the woman simply raised her arms as she tried to get past the other men. More and more zombies emerged from the tunnel, their distant moans echoing through the underground, through the foyer and onto the streets.

  “Get me the fuck out of here!” screamed Michelle. She put her hands on the railing and tried to pull herself up but it was too high.

  Rad and Marama tried to squeeze their hands through but the gap was too small.

  “Jesus, hurry!” Miche
lle found the thin man at her back and pushed him away. He stumbled back a few feet but was quick to resume his attack with yet more zombies right behind him.

  “Help me up,” said Bashar to Rad and Tony. “I’ll lift you over, Michelle, just hold on.”

  As Rad and Tony bent down to give Bashar a boost up, they heard Michelle scream. She pressed herself up against the locked fence and tears streamed down her face. “Please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to—”

  Bashar pulled Rad and Tony back as Michelle was overwhelmed. The thin man sank his teeth into Michelle’s neck as the zombie in the grey suit ripped her ear off. Another zombie pulled Michelle’s arm up and snapped off three fingers before greedily stuffing them into its mouth. Michelle screamed again as more zombies began clawing and scratching at her, ripping open her flesh, tearing apart her face as they began to pull strips of flesh off her.

  Slowly Bashar backed away from the fence. It had happened so quickly that there just hadn’t been time to save her.

  “Come on, Amelia, let’s go this way.” Jo took her daughter away to where Carrington was sitting on the ground.

  “Oh God, Tony.” Lissie put a hand over her mouth and buried her face in her husband’s shoulder.

  The zombies had hauled Michelle down to the ground now and were swarming all over her. Bashar could see the woman thrashing around underneath them and blood was sprayed everywhere as they feasted on her. Thin veins were pulled from her legs as the dead voraciously tore Michelle apart. Bashar saw dirty fingers sink into an eye socket and pull one of her eyes out. A woman popped it in her mouth as another reached down inside Michelle’s open mouth and ripped out her tongue. Bashar felt his legs weaken and he turned away. Michelle’s screams turned to a gurgle as she was turned inside out by the dead.

  “Dear God, this isn’t real.” Marama knelt down on the cold ground next to Bashar. “This can’t be real.”

  “Better her than me.” Neale stared at what was left of Michelle. Beneath the writhing dead bodies there was little left to look at. A few bones stripped of flesh and oceans of blood. Neale approached Tony. “We can’t stay here, you know. And we can’t use the underground. So what next?”

  Lulu wiped her eyes. “Let’s go to plan B, shall we?”

  Tony took Lissie’s hand and waited as the others gathered around. “I’m sorry for her, but Lulu’s right. We’re going to have to cut through St James’ Park. I can lead us there, but I want everyone sticking close. Not all of the underground stations might have been locked, which means those zombies could spill out from anywhere at any time.”

  “What about that…thing?” Neale pointed up at the demon tearing through central London. “You got any plan how to deal with that if it sees us?”

  “We’re just going to put as much distance as we can between it and us. The plan is to get the fuck out of here. Let’s move.”

  Bashar told Carrington to get to his feet. The man was checking his phone.

  “Bloody thing still isn’t working,” said Carrington, as he shoved the phone into his pocket. “I really need to get to Whitehall. We’ve wasted too much time already.”

  “Such compassion,” muttered Marama.

  “Still have faith it’s there?” asked Rad. “You still think there’s a working government after what you’ve seen?”

  “Oh yes, of course, dear boy. It’ll take more than that to defeat the British.”

  “Ah yes, the British Empire. I forgot that it was invincible to zombies and demons. Maybe you should ask Michelle if she agrees with you.”

  “All right, knock it off,” said Bashar. “Let’s just go.”

  Next to the underground entrance was a gate into Green Park. Tony led them through and then further into the park. Wooden benches and flowerbeds populated the greenery, and though the fog still lurked amongst the trees, it felt like a different world very quickly. There was a narrow pathway that headed away from the tube station and the dead, and Bashar was pleased to find that under the shelter of the large trees he could no longer see the demon. He could still hear it bellowing and roaring, but it at least felt further away if he didn’t have to look into those terrifying red eyes.

  “That’s the Palace on the left,” said Amelia. She looked up at Bashar. “St James’ is just over that wall. I went there with school last term. It’s nice inside.”

  “Well it is a palace,” replied Bashar.

  “Hush, honey,” said Jo nervously. “We have to be quiet now.”

  Amelia blushed and Bashar let them walk ahead. He looked over the brick wall and barbed wire at the red bricks of the Palace. He had no idea if the royal family would have been in London or not, but it begged the question: had they been evacuated or were they dead? Were those rich enough to pay for whatever they wanted somewhere else watching events unfold on TV or shuffling alongside the moving corpses of the people who worked for them? Did they care that people like Michelle were out here dying or was it just something else to watch before changing channels to watch the tennis?

  Bashar felt a tingling sensation on his right foot and looked down. A hand had wrapped itself around his ankle with surprising strength given the ravaged state of the arm. The tendons around the wrist had been shorn of their protective flesh and he could see sinewy muscles running along the length of the bone. The body to which it was attached was hidden in the undergrowth, and Bashar quickly pulled his leg away. The hand reached for him and a deep groan emanated from the bush. Bashar watched as another hand appeared and the fingers dug into the soft earth, hauling the body out of the bushes. The zombie had nothing left below the waist and as it raised its head Bashar swung the meat cleaver through its skull. The body slumped into the dirt and Bashar moved on. It was all about movement now. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t delay any longer. He had to get out of the park, out of London. He knew if he stopped he would die. The memory of what had happened to Michelle was still vivid in his mind and he didn’t want to contemplate a similar fate. The zombies were merciless. He had to be the same, ruthless, determined and focussed. He had already used one meat cleaver to stop Roza, now he had another one and he would do whatever it took, use it on whoever he had to, to get to Nurtaj.

  The fog had changed, become thinner, more transparent somehow. It was more like the static on a television set than real fog anymore. A fuzzy grey and white texture seemed to cling to the air particles, and Bashar wondered if that meant it was clearing. He wiped a hand across a green leaf attached to a flowering shrub and he was left with a slimy texture on his fingers. Maybe the sun was changing it, affecting it and would burn it off. He had to hope so. The fog did nothing to lift their spirits. The gloom seemed to sap not just their strength but their hopes too. Now that it was getting unmistakeably light, he began to think that maybe there was still a chance; maybe he could get to Nurtaj or at least talk to her from the bunker. If Carrington could get them in then they would surely have access to all sorts of satellites and radios. The government tracked everything and cut into any CCTV or satellite feed it wanted; Bashar knew it was imperative that he stuck with Carrington and he rushed to catch up with him.

  They reached the end of Green Park without any more encounters of the zombie kind and rested by a water fountain. Everyone took a sip as Bashar and Tony surveyed what lay ahead. The Mall was deserted. Over the road was St James’ Park and to the east lay central London and Nelson’s Column. To the west was Buckingham Palace, barely visible and shrouded in the mist.

  “It’s like a red carpet,” said Amelia.

  “Almost as bright as your hair,” replied Tony.

  Amelia giggled. “No it’s not. My hair is way redder.”

  “You know how they got the road to look like that? Iron oxide,” said Tony. “That’s how they made the road look a red carpet.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the Queen lives here. She doesn’t have just an ordinary road, you know. I know I don’t have a red carpet and you don’t have one, right?”

  Amelia g
iggled.

  “That’s enough, honey. Leave Uncle Tony alone.” Jo protectively put an arm around her daughter.

  Bashar watched them with a pang of jealousy. He had come to think of them, Tony particularly, as his friends. They had kept each other alive so far and yet seeing them interact now and smile and laugh only made him realise how much he missed his own family. Nurtaj was everything he had and he missed her so much it hurt.

  “Which way, Tony”? asked Bashar.

  There was a faint popping sound, so faint that he almost didn’t hear it, and no reply to his question. Bashar saw Tony raise an arm and point across the road but no words came from his mouth. Bashar looked around and saw the others all looking up into the sky. Neale was staring with tears falling from his eyes. Marama was cowering behind Rad and pointing in the direction of Buckingham Palace. Bashar followed her gaze and saw the mist part. Something flew from the Palace, over its tall gates, toward them. Bashar watched incredulous as the object grew larger.

  “Back up!” yelled Bashar. “Everyone back!”

  The woman’s arms were down by her side and her legs slightly apart. Her black cape flowed behind her as did her fiery red hair as she levitated above them, and Bashar found his eyes drawn to hers. The woman’s amber eyes were wide open and looking down at them with disgust. Her long arms were bare and the skin was pale, as if almost a pure white. Her long fingers ended with fingernails at least as long as the fingers themselves. Her lips were bright red and full, and Bashar wanted to weep as he looked at her. He had never seen such beauty before.

  The woman smiled.

  With the exception of Lulu everyone fell to their knees.

  “Back off, you fucking witch,” snarled Lulu, raising her knife. “Come any closer and you’ll feel my blade between your fucking eyes.”

  The woman peeled back her hood to reveal a ring of black dead skin around her neck. It jarred against her pale flesh and Lulu trembled as the woman levitated above them.

  “I find witch such a base term. It is a word that only a creature of your intellect would use. I am a necromancer, more powerful than a common witch.”