‘We’re going home,’ she says.
‘What, already?’ Gabriel glances at Kerry, who’s frowning slightly.
‘It’s obviously not safe here,’ says Beth.
‘Has Preston agreed to this?’
‘Preston is showering in another room, and he doesn’t have to agree to it. I am your mother and I am taking you home.’
‘We just got here last night,’ says Gabriel incredulously.
‘And you almost got yourself killed already,’ snaps Beth.
‘We’re scavengers,’ he pushes. ‘We’re here to scavenge. How often do we come across an opportunity like this, Mum? We never get exclusive intel when a zone evacuates.’
‘Preston is capable enough, I’m sure.’
‘Preston,’ snaps Gabriel, ‘the guy you only keep around because he’s vicious and ruthless and he can protect us. You’re suggesting we part from him when he just saved my life.’ Beth says nothing so he turns to Kerry. ‘Are you hearing this?’
‘Oh, I get a say now, do I?’ Kerry sighs. ‘I thought we had an unwritten rule that I was at the bottom of the hierarchy.’
‘True,’ admits Gabriel, allowing himself a small grin, ‘but I’m pretty sure that unwritten rule also states that Preston is in charge.’
As if on cue, Preston returns to the room, his salt-and-pepper hair wet and dripping. A towel hangs over one shoulder and Gabriel catches his mother glancing up at the glorious contours and scars that make up Preston’s bare torso. Gabriel resists the urge to retch.
‘So,’ he says casually, ‘what’s the plan?’
‘Today,’ replies Preston, taking the towel off his shoulder and flinging it at a scowling Beth, ‘I thought we might go shopping.’
Gabriel grins.
The Funeral
The birthday party was ruined. Kerry had just turned nine and the candles were flickering on her pink frosted cake and all her favourite people were there. She didn’t get to blow out the candles before people started going mad.
Vaguely Kerry could remember being yanked away from her friends and under a table, Aggie’s hand clamped firmly over her mouth. She could hear the shrill ring of David’s phone, on and off, over the chaos. Aggie hugged Kerry, who was crying quietly, blocking most of her sister’s teary vision with her body. They stayed there for who knew how long, crouching and listening. It was like someone had turned on the TV really loud.
Even after silence fell they didn’t move. Kerry listened for David telling them to come out. More time passed and David said nothing. A grunt sounded a few metres away, and they didn’t trust that it was a friendly grunt. Aggie had started crying now, which indicated to Kerry that whatever was happening was Really Serious. Aggie never cried; she was sixteen and she was too cool to cry.
The sound of David’s phone filled the air just as Kerry’s legs were threatening to fall off. Aggie peered out from under the table, still shielding her sister’s view, and Kerry felt her stiffen. Following the sound of the phone, someone burst in from the back of the restaurant and terror flooded Kerry’s little body. Aggie met her gaze and held a finger to her lips. Silent as the grave, she crept out from under the table.
Suddenly, without Aggie shielding her eyes, Kerry had the full view of the restaurant. To her left, a pile of bodies were stacked up by the window. Aggie was still crouched in front of her, but Kerry could just see Preston braced for a fight to her right.
Everything happened at once. Aggie threw herself back under the table as Preston launched himself at a group of maybe six or seven people, kitchen knives flashing. Kerry swallowed a scream, terrified for her friend, but Preston was a ninja. He bobbed and weaved and sliced and diced, like one of those characters in a martial arts film. Blood spattered the walls and poor Kerry threw up her pizza. The fight lasted no more than forty seconds and then Aggie was dragging Kerry out from under the table.
Preston was crouched next to the pile of bodies, holding a limp hand near the bottom. A plain gold ring glinted on the third finger. Preston sagged.
‘David,’ whispered Kerry, her chest panging. ‘Is that David?’
She made to move towards them but Aggie pulled her back. Preston straightened up, muttering something to himself and wiping his eyes impatiently.
‘Into the kitchen,’ Preston ordered, pointing the way he’d come. ‘Arm yourselves.’
Aggie obeyed wordlessly, stepping over the bodies as if they were timber in a forest. Kerry turned to look at the dead by the window, but Preston wheeled her back around and steered her towards the kitchen. She hesitated before the people he’d felled.
‘They’re dead,’ Preston confirmed. ‘They won’t bite.’
With an encouraging prod in the back from him, Kerry jumped carefully over the dead and followed Aggie through the staff door. The kitchen still steamed slightly, as if the chef were only outside smoking a cigarette and intended to return momentarily. The countertops gleamed silver, surprisingly untarnished by the bloodshed that had wrecked the other room.
Aggie had lined up all the sharp objects on one of the counters and was stuffing a long-handled roast fork into her belt. Preston passed the girls and stuck his head out the still open back door before shutting it and taking off his rucksack.
‘What are you doing?’ Kerry asked. ‘Who were those people?’
‘I have a feeling I won’t be needing these,’ muttered Preston, tipping his rucksack, out of which spilled dozens of gleaming silver rings and a couple of watches. ‘Don’t really want the extra weight.’
Kerry picked up one of the rings. It was a woman’s, with a beautiful round diamond atop it. She picked up another one with a purple jewel in it and tried it on her too-small finger.
‘Why do you have all these?’ she asked.
Preston didn’t answer. He went instead to the counter and slid all the remaining sharp silverware into the rucksack. The knives clanged loudly as they landed in the bag. He zipped it up and shrugged it back on.
‘Are we going?’ he said, glancing between the girls.
‘You killed those people,’ said Kerry.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Are we going then? My Twins are at the flat.’
‘What twins?’ Kerry asked.
‘I swear to god, Pres, if you’re talking about your cats,’ said Aggie.
‘Let’s get a move on,’ growled Preston. ‘I’m not waiting around.’
Making for the door, he didn’t check to see if they were following. Unarmed, Kerry followed close behind. She expected a group of them to be out there waiting for them when Preston opened the door, but they were greeted with silence as they stepped outside. The street was empty when they circled around to the front of the restaurant. Cars were abandoned here and there, some with doors still open and engines still running. It took all Kerry’s willpower not to look back through the window and search for David’s lifeless face.
The circumstances were unclear to Kerry, but she knew for some reason that Preston wasn’t allowed to drive. David had given her Preston’s car keys a few weeks ago and told her to hide them, which she’d thought was a fun game at the time. It occurred to her when they were arguing hours later that perhaps it hadn’t been a fun game after all. So she didn’t complain when they started walking, moving quickly but treading lightly. A dog, still attached to its lead, cantered past them. Kerry watched it go.
London had never been so quiet. The road was half full of empty cars and sirens wailed in the distance. Across the road, a group of teenage boys stepped out of a corner shop with carrier bags bulging and satisfied grins on their faces. They scarpered at the sight of Preston holding a kitchen knife.
Ten minutes passed and Aggie was still silently crying. Preston was on full alert, and his face betrayed no emotion. Kerry knew that they weren’t far from the flat, and that they would be safe there. She wanted nothing more than a warm bath and a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
When the block of flats finally came into view at the end of the road, Aggie allowe
d herself a strangled sob. She picked up the pace, completely forgetting to be quiet, her breaths coming out loud and ragged. And then she went down behind an abandoned BMW, screaming. Preston leapt into action, sliding over the bonnet and slashing wildly with the knife, and Aggie continued to scream. Kerry stood rooted to the spot, terrified, as people approached, stumbling and grunting like zombies.
She watched with her mouth open in a silent scream as Preston hauled Aggie to her feet and spun just in time to avoid a swiping hand. They fought off a pack of the stumbling, grunting people with their knives and Kerry screwed her eyes tight shut. She heard shuffling, yelling, squelching, thumping, banging, and... Was someone shouting her name?
‘KERRY, MOVE!’
Her eyes flew open as a heavy weight bowled her over. Above her a woman with broken teeth and bald patches in her hair snarled and snapped and clawed, and Kerry found her voice. She screamed and screamed, pushing at the woman’s face in an attempt to get her off. The edge of her palm slipped into the crazy lady’s mouth and the woman bit down hard, her jagged teeth drawing blood. Kerry squealed, hot tears blurring her vision. Her heart pounded against her chest as the woman’s teeth closed tighter around her flesh.
Something wet and sticky splashed onto her, and a blade protruded from the woman’s face. She couldn’t stop screaming, even as Preston tossed the woman aside and every other sound ceased.
‘Oh my god, Pres, look at her hand...’
‘Get to the flat,’ said Preston.
He left the knife embedded in the crazy lady’s head and picked Kerry up. Suddenly exhausted, Kerry rested her head against his chest, soothed by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them she was safe.
‘Keys,’ said Aggie.
‘My back pocket,’ said Preston.
‘Preston...’
‘Jesus Christ, just get them!’
A lock clicked and Kerry was carried into David’s flat. She loved this flat, with its big window and its poky little kitchen and the big bookcase. It was all one big room: kitchen, dining room and living room. She preferred David’s flat to home. Preston sat her down on the sofa next to a plump ginger cat with part of its ear missing. The cat grunted at her and swished its tail.
‘Which cat is this?’ she asked sleepily. ‘Where are the others?’
‘Don’t lie down,’ Preston told her.
She watched, dazed, as Aggie followed Preston into the kitchen. Preston took a clean knife from his rucksack and dumped the bag in a corner. Aggie was yelling at Preston but Kerry couldn’t understand what she was saying. She couldn’t understand what Preston was doing, either; he’d turned the hob on the oven on, and he was holding the knife over it. Aggie was crying again.
A sudden jolt of pain unlike anything Kerry had ever felt brought her back to her senses. She was covered in blood, her head hurt from where she’d fallen over and her hand felt like it was on fire. She cried out, tears making tracks through the blood on her face.
Aggie rushed to her side. ‘Shh, it’s all right, you’ll be okay.’
‘Bring her here.’
‘No, Preston, we’ll call a doctor.’
‘You don’t know how long that shit is going to take to spread. And who knows if a doctor is close to a phone right now?’
‘We need David, he could do it, and he’s qualified-’
‘Do you want to save the brat or not?’
Another jolt of pain made Kerry howl louder. It was only a small bite, just under her little finger, but it hurt like nothing she’d ever felt before. She wondered if she was going to die. Aggie was still crying. She’d never seen Aggie cry so much.
‘Can you get up, sweetheart?’ Aggie whispered in a wobbly voice.
Kerry opened her mouth to answer but she threw up. Preston let out an impatient sound and came to retrieve Kerry himself. He sat her on a yellow bar stool in the kitchen and lay her burning hand flat on a wooden chopping board. Her dress smelled of blood and sick.
‘Distract her,’ he snapped.
‘K-Kerry,’ said Aggie, holding her sister’s grimy face in both her hands. ‘Look at me, love. You’ll be okay. Preston will m-make it better.’
The room got quieter. Kerry had forgotten about the hob until Preston turned it off and the gas stopped hissing. Aggie’s grip tightened on her head and Kerry had the ridiculous urge to giggle.
‘A-are you sure, Preston?’ said Aggie. ‘Can’t we do something, can’t she sleep...?’
Kerry felt Preston pull her little finger away from the others. She tried to look but Aggie held her tight. Aggie was trembling uncontrollably.
‘Preston, please, can we talk... Please, NO!’
THUNK.
Bleach and citrus filled her nostrils when she woke. It was dark and quiet and she lay in David’s double bed. She felt stiff and sore, her face was crusty and something was wrapped tightly around her left hand. The curtains were firmly closed but the door was wide open and a little light spilled into the room, though the usual glare of the TV was absent. She could hear whispering from the living room.
She looked around her. Everything appeared to be normal. David’s denim jacket hung on the wardrobe door and Preston’s ashtray was half full beside her. It appeared they’d left her in here when she’d gone to sleep and moved things to the living room so they wouldn’t disturb her. Why did she feel so afraid?
Lank clumps of long red hair fell around her face as she sat up. She still wore her purple dress, which felt crusty like her face, and there was a metallic taste in her mouth. It occurred to her that she should get up for a drink. She stretched first, and then brought her left hand down to tuck her hair behind her ear. All of a sudden pain lanced through her fingers as she moved them and tears pricked her eyes. In the dim light she lifted her bandaged hand to her eyes.
And she screamed.
Uncontrollable sobs racked her body and her hand shook before her face, one finger short. Aggie rushed in, hurrying to the bed and pulling Kerry to her chest. Preston leaned casually in the doorway with a steaming mug in his hand, something akin to amusement on his face. Aggie whispered some soothing words that Kerry couldn’t hear over her own cries.
She knew. She remembered. David, her beloved brother, was gone. And now Preston – mean, weird, nasty Preston – had taken her little finger too. Bizarrely, she still wore a shiny purple ring on the opposite hand. Eyes streaming, she took it off and flung it across the room.
‘M-m-my finger is g-gone,’ she wailed into her sister’s t shirt.
‘Yes,’ murmured Aggie, stroking her matted hair and rocking her gently back and forth. ‘We had to get rid of the infection; we had to make you better.’
‘She needs a bath,’ Preston noted.
Aggie glowered at him but nodded. He sipped his coffee and left the room. Kerry sniffed and rubbed her eyes with her good hand, her bandaged hand still hovering awkwardly.
‘What happened?’ she whispered. ‘Why did those people attack us?’
An answer didn’t come straight away. Aggie bit thoughtfully at a hangnail and her thumb offered up beads of blood. Kerry also noticed a patch of blood on the ankle of Aggie’s jeans. She wondered whose it was. The sound of running water came from another room.
‘Those people,’ said Aggie slowly. ‘They weren’t well. They’re... They were...’
‘Zombies,’ said Preston, this time reappearing with a cigarette in his mouth.
‘Don’t-’
‘I cut the kid’s finger off, Agatha,’ said Preston levelly. ‘I think she can handle a little word like zombies.’
‘She’s nine, you asshole.’
Shrugging, Preston took a long drag on the cigarette and Kerry watched smoke evade the room. The end of the cigarette glowed in the gloom. David didn’t like Preston smoking in the flat. He had to use the little balcony so the flat wouldn’t smell bad.
The cigarette dangled from his lips as he moved to the middle of the room. The girls watched as he kicked
the rug aside and removed a floorboard. They couldn’t see what he was taking out but it rustled and clunked heavily on the floor when he put it down. He tossed aside what looked suspiciously like an evidence bag before putting something into a wooden box and closing the lid. There was a rucksack at the foot of the wardrobe that he slipped the box into before replacing the floorboard and tossing something onto the bed.
‘It’s still your birthday,’ he grunted, nodding to the digital clock on the wall.
It was half past ten. Kerry was never allowed to be awake at half past ten, but she was far from tired. Her head was filled with thoughts of zombies and stolen jewellery and missing cats. And Preston had actually got her a birthday present? Perhaps that was the strangest part of the day. Preston took another drag of his cigarette as she reached gingerly for the little parcel. It was too dark to tell what the wrapping paper looked like. Brown, probably.
‘Can you do it?’ said Aggie gently, and Kerry nodded.
Slowly, one-handed, Kerry tore the paper, her bandaged hand still hovering above the duvet. A plastic bottle rolled out of its packaging and she squinted to see what it was. Tutting, Preston flicked the light on. It was bubble bath, the kind she would eye hungrily in Boots but never had enough pocket money for. It was cherry and almond scented. She offered him a watery smile.
‘Help her bathe,’ Preston told Aggie before Kerry could thank him. ‘I’m going out to pick someone up. If something happens, lock yourselves in the bathroom or something.’
‘You’re leaving us?’ Kerry squeaked.
‘Half an hour,’ said Preston, slinging the rucksack over his shoulder. ‘You can survive for half an hour.’
‘We have to find a doctor,’ said Aggie. ‘Just wrapping her hand up isn’t enough.’
‘We will. Don’t get her hand wet.’
He flicked the stump of his cigarette towards the ashtray but it fell short, landing on the polished floorboards. Still chewing her thumb, Aggie scowled and stomped it out. Then Preston was gone.
After The End (Book 1): The Furious Four Page 3
