Then she screamed again, that awful sound forcing him to cover his hands over his ears and crawl across the floor. But as he moved, she simply stayed with him, not even stopping for a breath. Lazarus drew his knees up to his chest and pushed his face to the floor, the cold tiles against his sweating forehead. But it was no good. He had to do something, anything, to make her stop—
Clair stood up suddenly and turned towards the door, like she was making to leave. But something had snapped inside Lazarus. With a crazed yell that felt like it was ripping his heart out, he struck wildly at her. He didn’t know what he was doing, wasn’t thinking. Something deep down inside him was now telling him what to do.
The movement caught Clair by surprise and she didn’t dodge quickly enough; Lazarus’s arm made contact with the side of her head and she fell hard to the floor. He felt the sting of the contact burst up his arm, but it wasn’t just pain that he felt. His hand seemed stuck to her, glued to her skin, and he couldn’t pull it away.
His vision swirled and the room felt suddenly icy cold – he could see his own breath. Something like an electric shock thumped through him, his skin turned to goosebumps, and then it was as though all of his senses had cranked up to ten. He couldn’t just hear Clair breathing, but her blood pumping through her veins, the muscles in her eyes trying to focus. And that faint smell, the one that had reminded him of Red, was now strong enough to burn his nostrils.
Lazarus tried again to pull away, yanking at his hand, but it did no good. He glanced up at Clair and gasped. Superimposed over her, he could now see the image of something else, a dark and twisted being, broken and vile: the Dead that had climbed through the portal and sunk its fingers into Clair’s skin. Somehow it had become a part of Clair, pushed its way into her. But it didn’t look happy. It looked like it was doing all it could to get away from his touch and maintain control of Clair.
Clair screamed and Lazarus heard her real voice this time, knew she was fighting against the Dead inside her. But it was obvious to him that she didn’t have the strength. She reached for the tray she had brought in, threw off the cover, and pulled out a spike. Lazarus stared at the weapon. He knew now he wasn’t fighting Clair but the Dead.
He backed off as Clair raised the spike to plunge it into him. It was a rusty thing with three jagged edges. The handle was a twist of metal thorns that cut into Clair’s hand, making her hand burst into a bloody glove. Lazarus felt the contact break between his hand and Clair. He scrabbled away on his back as she brought the spike down. It drove hard into the floor, burying deep.
With inhuman strength, Clair ripped it out. She dived at Lazarus, but he caught her with his feet and kicked out, sending her sailing through the air with such force that when she smacked into the wall, plaster fell to the floor around her. Lazarus was shocked. He’d just been shot, hadn’t he? So how had he recovered so quickly? Just what the hell had Arielle done to him?
He wasn’t given time to think as Clair jumped back to her feet and dashed across the floor. Instinct took over as she heaved the spike towards Lazarus a second time. He caught her hand, but the spike slashed him across the chest. It felt like it was pulling the blood from him as it cut into his skin. The reek of burning hit him. Beneath his grip on Clair’s wrist, her skin was starting to smolder and smoke.
The struggle between them became desperate. Lazarus could still see the creature inside Clair, using her as a puppet. They rolled across the floor, crashing into the bed, tearing down the curtain that surrounded it, ripping wires from the walls.
Lazarus’s hand came away from Clair’s wrist. Then, not knowing what he was doing, he jumped to his feet and gripped her head tight between his palms.
Clair thrashed about violently, her body bucking and shaking, but Lazarus wasn’t about to let go. As he held on, something black like pitch started to spill from her eyes and ooze from her mouth. Lazarus felt himself starting to retch but he hung on. Clair thrashed even more. At last Lazarus let go, and she slammed into the floor face first.
For a moment, the room was silent. Clair wasn’t moving. Lazarus thought she was dead.
Then, from her chest, something terrible started to push its way out.
14 Agonising Howl
A hand came out first, its skin like a plucked chicken, pale and waxy. Then came the arm, blistered and wet. Thin blue veins bubbled and burst across its skin, leaking blood and pus over the floor.
Lazarus backed off, but kept watching as the creature slipped from Clair’s body bit by bit. As it emerged further the arm soon led to a shoulder; then the other arm was free. Eventually he saw the head. Its eyes, black and hollow, bled down its cheeks, the skin of its face translucent. The inside of its mouth was black. The creature looked up at Lazarus and grinned.
Suddenly it was free of Clair’s body and lying on the floor, its eyes pinned to Lazarus. He glanced back at Clair and was amazed to see that not only was she unharmed by this thing, and by the struggle he’d had with her himself, she was breathing as well.
The sound of nails scratching across the floor brought Lazarus back to the creature. It was still crawling towards him slowly, pulling itself along by its fingers. Closer and closer it got until it reached out with its right hand.
Lazarus saw the spike at the Clair’s side. In a moment of clarity he jumped up, grabbed the cloth Clair had used to cover the tray, wrapped it round his hand and picked up the spike. It bit into his skin, but didn’t puncture it.
The creature tried to pull itself round to look at him, but it wasn’t quick enough. Lazarus drove the spike into it, pinned it to the floor. It squealed. It pulled at the spike. But it was held fast. The more it struggled, the more it screamed and the more it tore itself – great deep bloody rips spreading from the immovable spike. With a final gut-wrenching screech its skin liquefied and it dissolved to nothing, its agonizing howl fading into the walls.
Lazarus felt exhausted and in shock. He dragged himself over to check Clair, his eyes snapping back to the spike jabbed into the floor, an oily slick steaming about it.
Clair was still breathing. Despite everything, she looked peaceful. What had he done? Lazarus looked back at the spike. Somehow, by touch alone, he’d pulled that creature out of Clair. And then he’d driven the spike into it with such force that it had pierced the floor and destroyed the creature. Lazarus remembered what Red had said about not being able to kill the Dead, how they took centuries to get strong again. Wherever that thing now was, he thought to himself, more than a little relieved, he’d certainly never be seeing it again in his lifetime.
A memory charged through Lazarus’s mind, bringing him round to where he was and what he was going to do now – it was the conversation he’d had with Arielle before Clair had turned up – she was coming for him in the morning.
I’ve got to get the hell out of here …
He needed Craig.
Lazarus spun round on his knees, looking for the phone Arielle had left for him. He spotted it over by the wall, slid across the floor, picked it up.
God, I hope you’re working …
He flicked the phone open. Thankfully, his lobbing it against the wall hadn’t totally destroyed it. He punched in Craig’s number.
‘Laz?’
‘Craig.’
‘What the—’
‘No time,’ said Lazarus. ‘I’m in the hospital. I need you to get me out.’
‘What happened last night?’ Craig demanded. ‘Where did you go? I woke up and your bed was empty, you weren’t in the house. How can you be in the hospital? I’ve spent the whole day wondering what had happened, where you’d gone…’
Lazarus didn’t want a long conversation. He could explain everything to Craig later on. Except perhaps for how he’d got to the hospital because he hadn’t a clue. But for the moment, he just needed out.
‘Can you get to the hospital?’
Craig sounded more confused than ever. ‘It’s the middle of the night, Laz.’
‘I asked if you can
get here. Can you?’
‘I guess,’ said Craig. ‘Why?’
‘Because I’m not sticking around to see just how bad everything can really get,’ Lazarus snapped. ‘Dad’s not been there for me once in my whole life and then he leaves me alone to deal with this while he disappears. Well, he’s just going to have to work it all out for himself. It’s nothing to do with me.’
‘You sure?’
‘Totally,’ said Lazarus.
‘But why do you need me?’
‘I need clothes,’ said Lazarus. ‘I can’t walk out of here in my PJs, can I?’
Craig laughed, but it sounded empty.
‘I’ll get myself out of the ward,’ said Lazarus. ‘You won’t be able to get in as it’ll be locked. I’ll have to improvise a way to get past the nurses. I’ll meet you outside the main entrance.’
‘Always said you were a sneaky fellow,’ said Craig.
‘So I’ll see you in how long?’
Craig was quiet for a moment, then sighed and said, ‘I’ll be there in thirty, OK?’
Lazarus had to get out and meet Craig before anyone raised the alarm or he met Arielle again. And to do that he had to get out of the ward without being noticed.
Clair was unconscious so he figured she wouldn’t be a problem, at least for the time being. Then he pulled the spike out of the floor, wrapped it in a strip ripped from a bed sheet, then crept up to the door to his room and eased it open.
It was grey in the hallway on the other side. About a hundred feet ahead he could see the exit doors. Only problem was getting past the reception desk halfway between him and his way out.
Silently he slipped out through the door, quickly ducking into an alcove to the left of the corridor. Here he found a small sink and a microwave and a couple of almost comfy chairs. It was the nurse’s break room, but he didn’t have time to hang around for a snack. He peered down the hallway. He could just see the reception desk. Sitting behind it was a nurse about the same age as Clair. She looked tired and bored and was reading a book, occasionally glancing up at the computer screen in front of her, probably checking her emails or on Facebook, thought Lazarus.
Lazarus made a move, slipping out of the break room and down the corridor, past rooms like the one he’d been in himself. Footsteps echoed up ahead and he bumped through the nearest door, his heart doing a drum roll.
The room was dark and the only sounds were that of medical instruments and breathing. The footsteps walked past, but Lazarus didn’t feel any sense of relief. Getting out was going to be harder than he realized. He leant against the cool wall in the room, tried to gather his thoughts, come up with something. He needed a way to distract any staff on the ward so that he could make a bolt for it. But how?
Turning to look at the patient in the room, Lazarus was suddenly struck by an idea. And it made him grin.
He walked quietly over to the person in the bed. It was a man, but that was about all Lazarus could make out in the gloom. He moved to the head of the bed. There, hanging from the ceiling was a pull cord. The emergency alarm. Pull it and everyone would come running.
And they did.
Lazarus had just enough time to bolt from the room to the one opposite before nurses filled the corridor and piled into the room. He counted to five and then, breathing deep, he ripped the door open and ran.
The corridor felt huge as he pelted down it, his feet flapping on the floor. The doors were in front of him. He punched the door-release button and burst through, checked the signs hanging from the ceiling and a map on the wall, then made off towards the main entrance.
Walking as fast as he could without drawing anyone’s attention, Lazarus did his best to ignore the aches in every part of his body. Considering all that had just happened, including being shot by Arielle, he felt ready for anything. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline keeping him on his feet. He didn’t care; even if he collapsed in a few minutes’ time, it didn’t matter, so long as he was somewhere else.
Lazarus pushed through a door and the main exit appeared up ahead. It wasn’t far now. Then a call came from behind and Lazarus heard the door open.
‘Lazarus!’
Lazarus turned – Clair was right behind him. She looked awful, was leaning against the open door, and was staring at him.
Lazarus wasn’t about to wait around to find out if she was going to attack him again. He broke into his best version of a run, hobbling and lurching towards the main exit, trying not to trip over his feet.
Clair called again.
‘Wait Lazarus! You have to listen to me! Wait!’
But Lazarus wasn’t about to wait. He was out of there. He could hear Clair trying to chase after him. He glanced back and saw that she was dragging herself along the wall, the effort making her cry.
Clair called again. ‘They know your weakness, Lazarus! They’ll use it against you. Listen to me, for your own sake!’
Lazarus stopped. He was far enough ahead now for Clair not to catch him. The main exit was only a step away. He swung a final look round at Clair.
‘I’m not interested!’ he shouted. ‘I’m out of here for good!’
He slipped forward, pushed open the doors, but as he slipped through, he heard Clair call again.
‘It’s not just the Dead that are coming, Lazarus… It’s Hell!’
But Lazarus didn’t give himself time to think about what Clair had said – he was out through the main doors now and breathing fresh air.
The shock of the cold night air made him stumble across the pavement outside and into the road.
‘Lazarus!’
Lazarus looked up, saw Craig racing towards him on his BMX and skid to a halt.
‘Nice outfit,’ said Craig.
‘Thanks.’
Craig swung a bag off his back. ‘Throw this on and you’ll at least be warm.’
Lazarus opened the bag. It was stuffed with a pair of jeans, t-shirt, fleece jacket and some beat up sneakers.
‘Remember,’ said Craig, ‘fashion isn’t everything.’
Two minutes later and Lazarus was dressed.
‘So what now?’ asked Craig. ‘Down to the coast and across the border to Mexico?’
Lazarus laughed. It felt good. ‘Let’s just get back to your house and go from there,’ he said. ‘I need to work out just what on earth’s going on before we do anything.’
‘Hop on then,’ said Craig, nodding at the pegs sticking out of the axle of his rear wheel.
Lazarus went behind Craig, put his hands on Craig’s shoulders and placed a foot on one of the pegs.
A horn blared, an engine roared and Lazarus whipped round to see a huge, mean-looking four-wheel drive charge down the road, tires skidding the thing to a halt in front of them.
The passenger door flew open. Arielle was in the driver’s seat.
15 Terrifying Speed
’Move!’ yelled Lazarus. ‘That crazy bitch shot me and put me in the hospital!’
Craig hesitated. ‘Shot you? Seriously?’
‘Just peddle!’ said Lazarus.
‘No way can we outrun that,’ said Craig, glancing at the truck. ‘And who’s to say she won’t just run us off the road?’
‘Just go!’ screamed Lazarus, and punched Craig in the back. ‘Stick to the pavements, use back streets – anything – just get us away from her!’
Craig didn’t waste another second. With a push they were off.
Lazarus, gripping Craig’s shoulders, held himself low to avoid causing too much drag through the wind. Craig swept them out of the hospital car park, skipped on to a pavement then slipped down an alley.
‘Where’s this go?’ asked Lazarus, lowering himself to Craig’s ears to be heard.
‘No idea!’ replied Craig. ‘I’m just winging this, OK? It’s not a sight-seeing tour!’
The bike bounced down the alley, Craig deftly sweeping it between garbage cans and past a rather startled cat. A road up ahead was getting close fast. Then it disappeared as the end of t
he alley was blocked by the truck.
‘What now?’ yelled Craig.
‘There!’ said Lazarus. ‘On the right – open gate. We’re going to have to dump the bike!’
‘No way!’ shouted Craig. ‘My mom’ll kill me if I do that!’
‘And that nutjob down there,’ said Lazarus, pointing at Arielle’s truck, ‘will probably kill us both if we don’t get out of here right now!’
But it was too late. Craig hesitated too long and the bike swept past the open gate on a collision course with the truck.
‘You idiot!’ shouted Lazarus as ahead he saw Arielle climb out of the truck and start to run towards them. ‘Now she’s going to kill us both!’
Craig slammed on his breaks and Lazarus felt the bike skid left and right as it slowed down. When the bike eventually stopped he jumped off, ready to bolt for the open gate, even if he had to drag Craig with him, kicking and screaming. But as he turned and made to go he saw Arielle sweep up the alley towards them with an impossible speed. It looked like she wasn’t even touching the ground, instead just shooting through the air like a bullet.
Craig gasped as Arielle appeared in front of him.
‘You have to come with me,’ she said. ‘Now!’
‘How did you do that?’ said Craig, staring at Arielle. ‘You were down there, but now you’re here; how? It’s too far, you were too quick!’
‘Lazarus?’ said Arielle, utterly ignoring Craig.
Lazarus was edging back up the hill. The garden with the open gate was only a few feet away. If he could just get there he’d have a chance…
‘I told you I’d come in the morning, Lazarus,’ said Arielle. ‘Why are you making a break now, in the middle of the night? What were you thinking?’
‘You shot me!’ he shouted, his breath snarling in his throat as he stumbled across the road. ‘You bloody well shot me!’ He looked down at Craig and said, ‘I know this may sound nuts, but that’s what she did. And then she pulled the bullet out and then Clair turned up and this Dead thing was in her and …’
The Dead Page 8
