‘Well?’
‘No,’ she says firmly. ‘Beth hates Preston. And I’m pretty sure after all this time she’s still hung up on your dad.’
In the lantern light, Kerry watches him lean back against the pillows. She feels sorry for him, growing up this way, but in some weird, twisted way she envies Gabriel. Even at nine or ten she never had it anywhere near as together as this kid does. He’s the smartest child she’s ever seen, not to mention an amazing shot. The latter may not be a good thing on paper, but Kerry didn’t consider herself an asset to the group until she was perhaps fourteen. Gabriel was born for life as an Outlander.
She can see that the mention of his father has gotten him thinking. Gabriel always spaces out at the mere mention of Desmond, like he’s desperately trying to remember some scrap of a memory or trying to picture him. She hopes, for Gabriel’s sake, that Des Gruger is alive somewhere.
‘Do you ever feel like you missed out?’ Gabriel asks suddenly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, have you ever had a boyfriend?’
Kerry smiles ruefully. ‘No, I definitely missed out in that sense.’ She thinks hard over the question. ‘I suppose I had unrealistic dreams as a child. I wanted to be a princess when I grew up. I thought I’d marry a prince. But I don’t think I ever thought about romance seriously. The outbreak happened before I was an appropriate age, I guess.’
‘Mum told me that my dad’s rich,’ says Gabriel quietly, ‘and that if things had gone differently I’d live in this massive house with acres of land, I could’ve had any pets I wanted and I’d never want for anything.’
‘I think she blames herself for that.’
‘Well she shouldn’t,’ he says indignantly. ‘I know we don’t have much in the way of food or friends or, well, anything. But I love living here. I don’t want to be brain dead and sheltered. Sometimes I think, in their own way, that Inlanders are zombies too.’
‘That’s good, Gabe,’ she says with a fond smile, ‘but I don’t think Beth will ever see it that way.’
Gabriel sighs and sinks deeper into his mother’s duvet, breathing in her scent. He looks so small, Kerry notes, huddled under the sheets with the cat beside him. She has always quietly marvelled at him, with his coffee-brown skin and shocking blue eyes, and in Beth’s absence she feels a paternal affection.
‘The rain has stopped,’ Gabriel observes before falling fast asleep.
Startled awake, Kerry sits up, rubbing her eyes. The wind rustles the leaves of the trees outside, spattering the ground with leftover rain. She’d heard a grunt and a thump, but that was surely just Preston falling out of bed. She wants to slip out of bed and crawl in with David and Preston, but she then realises she isn’t eight anymore, and the grunting was made by Gabriel.
She’d been dreaming. She was at a carnival with Aggie, Pres and David, only they were moving too fast in the crowd and she was getting left behind. Tugging a balloon along behind her, she called their names repeatedly, but already they were too far away. Someone grabbed her shoulder and relief flooded through her, until she turned and saw that it was a clown, laughing manically.
Clowns had been her worst fear as a child. It seems ridiculous to her now, but if she came across one she knows she’d still run away screaming. The thought amuses her as she settles down and closes her eyes to let sleep reclaim her.
Unfiltered sunshine pools on the wooden floor when Gabriel shakes her awake in the morning. Groaning, she slaps his hands away and turns over, desperate for a few more minutes. Vaguely she hears him whispering. She opens her eyes to the sight of him holding a bow and arrow, and suddenly she’s wide awake.
She sits bolt upright, throwing the covers off herself, and Gabriel leads her silently to the balcony. The first thing she notices is the crackling, purring sound floating up from below. Gabriel points to the vegetable patch, beside which a man stands, his head lolled to the side as if he’s hung himself. He is shirtless, exposing his patchy, rotten skin, and he only wears one shoe. He sways slightly, his throat crackling contentedly in a sickening zombie lullaby. The thing hasn’t detected them. Thank Preston for the retractable ladder.
Wordlessly, Gabriel nocks an arrow and pulls the bowstring taut, aiming with a professional air at the creature down below. He lets the arrow fly, and it buries itself in the man’s skull. He falls without a sound, and Kerry releases a breath.
‘Are there more?’ she whispers, and Gabriel shakes his head.
‘Not yet,’ he says, hanging the bow on the wall hook with its twin, ‘but there are bound to be. Where one goes, others follow.’
‘I heard him,’ she admits, still whispering. ‘I woke up in the night and I thought it was you I heard...’
Gabriel points at the ground, where the Ailing’s footprints are embedded. ‘He came from that way. We need to re-establish the perimeter before the others come.’
‘If they come sounds better.’
‘No,’ says Gabriel, his brows furrowed. ‘They’re coming.’
Drunk in a Bunker
Fish floated lazily around the tank between the doctors’ surgery and the pharmacy, and the baby’s fat fist extended towards it. Smiling, Beth indulged the burbling tot for a few seconds, only feeling a little guilty for the slimy smear his fingers left on the glass.
Baby Gabriel’s hair was getting thicker, and his curls stood up on end. His startling blue eyes against his dark skin never failed to mystify those who met him and his smile was widely known to melt hearts. Except he hadn’t been smiling much recently; he had his first cold and it was severe. To make things worse, his dad was on a week-long college trip in Switzerland.
At only sixteen Beth still lived with her parents, who had wholeheartedly disapproved of her teenage pregnancy throughout the trimesters, but now loved their grandson. They all knew Des was attempting to get a flat for himself, Beth and Gabriel, but they hadn’t been able to discuss it without arguing. Beth was still a minor, after all, and in this case the mother of the baby did not know best.
She had given birth to her little boy five months ago, and Des had been stuck to her like glue for the nine months beforehand. They’d only been together seven months before she fell pregnant, but their little miracle had set their love in stone as far as they were concerned. Des only had eyes for her and the baby. Beth had already started to picture their marriage, which she was sure would take place as soon as she turned eighteen. She could picture Gabriel in the cutest little suit.
Wiping the infant’s grotesquely stuffy nose, Beth carried him away from the fish tank and into the pharmacy, clutching his prescription for dear life. Gabriel let out a sound of resistance, but even he seemed to know crying would only make his symptoms worse. Instead he chose to tug on Beth’s dreadlocks, which she’d tied back in a futile attempt to keep his tiny hands off them. Her back ached with the weight of her baby and her heavy bag.
‘Baa, baa, baa,’ he chattered as they joined the pharmacy queue, which was being held up by an angry young man and a little girl.
‘If you don’t have a prescription I can’t help you,’ the pharmacist told him, in a voice that suggested he’d said this several times.
‘These were issued at a Bristol hospital,’ snapped the young man, slapping an empty pill packet onto the counter. ‘It says her name on it. She needs more, so just re-prescribe them yourself, you ugly dolt.’
‘I’m not a doctor, I can’t prescribe anything.’
‘Baa, baa, baa,’ muttered Gabriel, and then, louder, ‘BAA, BAA, BAA!’
Irritated, the guy at the counter glanced back and his dark eyes momentarily met Beth’s. Even from the back of the line, looking through grubby glasses, she could see he was the most handsome guy she’d ever seen. Well, he was the second most handsome, with dark hair and pale skin and a scar in his eyebrow. He narrowed his eyes in disgust and returned his attention to the pharmacist.
‘I’m not going to say please,’ he hissed.
‘You need to go
to your registered doctor,’ the pharmacist insisted.
‘I can’t go to her registered doctor because the practise is in London.’
The word issued a gasp throughout the queue, whose members took steps away from the young man. The woman in front of Beth even collapsed, landing on the floor with a loud smack, and Beth leapt back, cradling Gabriel’s head. Bit dramatic, Beth thought when the woman didn’t get up again.
Regarding the young man for a moment, the pharmacist shook his head, about to turn his attention to the collapsed customer, and sensing he was about to get rejected a final time, the young man pulled something from his jacket and aimed it at the man’s head. The queue shattered and shot out the door as Beth realised it was a gleaming golden gun. Still shielding Gabriel, she stood rooted to the spot.
‘Antibiotics,’ he said levelly, ‘now.’
‘Preston...’ said the girl beside him, who had been still before now.
‘Shut it,’ said the guy, and the girl started crying.
Trembling, the pharmacist backed away, nodding. Preston followed the poor man’s movements with his weapon, his arm steady. Beth looked from him to the woman on the floor, who still hadn’t moved. Her fingers bled, dripping onto the linoleum floor. Hugging the baby to her, Beth stepped away from the prone woman. Gabriel blew a raspberry, as if to say, I’m not scared of her.
As the pharmacist frantically searched for the antibiotics, Beth suddenly became aware of a dull noise that she was sure hadn’t been present before. People outside seemed to be yelling about something. Preston seemed to have noticed too, for he glanced at the window, a flicker of something knowing crossing his face. She watched his lips form a swear word.
When the pharmacist finally returned with a box of pills, the woman on the floor suddenly began fitting, startling the pharmacist into dropping the medicine onto the counter. The woman grunted and hissed and frothed at the mouth, and Preston held up a hand as the pharmacist reached for the phone on the wall. Everyone watched Preston watching the woman, seemingly under a trance, until the woman got shakily to her feet and looked about her.
‘Miss...?’ said the pharmacist uncertainly, and the woman’s head snapped to him.
She lunged, screaming, and Preston sidestepped, dragging the still-crying little girl out of the way with him. The pharmacist barely had time to move as the crazed woman dived over the counter and onto him, latching onto him like a vice. Preston and his little girl ended up beside Beth, who shielded Gabriel from the sight of the gun, as the woman and her victim toppled and disappeared behind the counter, grunting and struggling.
Beth glanced behind her, expecting help to come, but none did. Whatever was causing the sounds outside was clearly too distracting. As the sounds behind the counter died down, Preston seemed to notice Beth for the first time, and he looked by all accounts amused.
‘What are you still doing here?’ he said.
Stunned, Beth looked into his handsome face, mouth agape. ‘Uh,’ she said stupidly.
‘I see,’ he chuckled.
‘I need medicine,’ she tried again, holding Gabriel’s prescription up as evidence. ‘My baby has a cold.’
Nodding furiously as if he wasn’t listening at all, Preston approached the counter. The girl remained with Beth. Tears streaked her cheeks but she’d stopped crying; she seemed fascinated and charmed by the burbling baby in Beth’s arms. She held out a finger and Gabriel clasped it obligingly in his fat fist, rousing a smile from her. Beth noticed the bandage on the girl’s other hand.
Preston retrieved the pills from the counter and peered over, seemingly unsurprised by what he saw there. A growl sounded from behind the desk.
‘Hello,’ he said pleasantly, grinning as he aimed his gun and fired.
The sound was louder than Beth expected, but the girl beside her seemed to expect it, for she’d covered her ears just in time. Beth saw flecks of blood settle on the wall, and Gabriel began to cry, startled by the noise. She waited for the pharmacist to stand, but she somehow knew he wouldn’t.
‘So that’s your kid?’ said Preston as he straightened up, speaking as casually as if he’d just got off the phone for a takeaway. ‘How old are you, twelve?’
‘I-I...’ said Beth pathetically, bouncing Gabriel in an attempt to calm him.
‘I’m not one to judge,’ he admitted, ‘but somehow I can’t help it. Come on, Kelly, we’re going.’
Not checking to see if the child was following he marched out the automatic door, which raised the volume of the outside noise as it opened. Kelly scuttled after him, and Beth found herself following too, not wanting to be left alone with the dead bodies. She trembled at the thought. Had she really just witnessed a murder? She wished Des were here.
Outside were less people than Beth had expected for the amount of racket they were making. A car boot was open, and at the foot of the vehicle three people crouched over a prone figure. Another woman and her child were being chased across the road, screaming. No one else seemed to be around.
‘What is happening?’ Beth quivered as Preston strolled ahead.
He glanced back at her, and he was momentarily surprised she was pursuing him, and then he laughed heartily. Beth stiffened, half-irritated and half-scared. This person she was following was an actual psychopath. Had he kidnapped this child?
‘What is happening?’ Beth snapped once more.
‘Have you not been reading the papers, Mummy?’ Preston chuckled.
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘This,’ he said, ignoring what she’d said and gesturing around them, ‘is the beginning of something fun.’
‘Doesn’t look fun to me,’ she retorted.
‘Au contraire,’ he lilted. ‘It’s the outbreak, sweetheart! It’s the beginning of the fucking zombie apocalypse. What more fun could you ask for?’
Frowning, Beth stopped in her tracks. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be following a lunatic. Of course she’d heard about the riots in London a couple of weeks ago – who hadn’t? But zombies were fictional supernatural beings, made to scare and entertain bored teenage boys. This guy really seemed to believe what he was saying.
She hugged Gabriel to her and watched the weirdo and his possibly kidnapped little girl walking away, wondering what to do now. She desperately wanted to ring Des, but he’d told her not to. He would call her when he wasn’t studying or exploring.
One of the three people surrounding the body suddenly looked up at her, and a scream caught in her throat. His mouth dripped blood and what looked disturbingly like a flap of flesh. His teeth were broken and his hair was patchy, and some of his fingertips were missing. Clutching her baby, she turned and ran after Preston, yelling at him to wait. He turned to her as she approached. Gabriel was crying again, his nose running.
‘Wait!’ she cried. ‘Please, can you take me home?’
‘Home,’ Preston repeated with a mocking smirk.
‘I need to take my baby home,’ said Beth.
‘You’ve never seen a zombie film, have you?’
‘My mum and dad will be there.’
‘I doubt that very much,’ Preston scoffed. ‘They’re not going to wait around if there’s an evacuation underway.’
‘Is there?’ Beth was aware of how clueless she sounded.
Preston shrugged. ‘Good luck.’
He turned away again, reaching into his jacket pocket for a car key. The little girl was already waiting by a black Ford Fiesta, which clicked open as he pressed a button. Beth followed, her heart hammered and Gabriel moaned in her ear, tugging angrily on a blue dreadlock.
‘Where are you going?’ Beth asked as Preston opened the driver door. ‘Are you evacuating too?’
‘No,’ he grunted, producing a cigarette from his pocket.
‘Where are you going then?’
‘My mate has a bunker.’
She didn’t hesitate long before she found herself asking, ‘Can we come?’
‘No,’ Preston laughed.
&
nbsp; ‘Please? My baby...’
‘Is the problem,’ Preston finished, blowing smoke at her. ‘I’ve already got a whining baby to look after, I don’t need two more.’
‘I’m sixteen,’ Beth said, ashamed of her begging tone. ‘And Gabriel’s a good baby usually, he’s just scared-’
‘You’re whining now. My answer is no.’
As Preston ducked into the safety of the car, Beth considered that she was asking a murderer for help. She’d just seen him shoot someone but she was essentially asking him to keep her own child alive. But she wasn’t prepared to stay stranded in a car park with flesh-eating freaks, so she took a deep breath and wrenched open one of the car doors. Careful not to hit Gabriel’s head, she slid into the back seat and strapped in.
Preston caught her eye in the rear view mirror, and fortunately he looked amused. Smoke fogged up the car as he turned to face her.
‘If you piss me off,’ he said, still grinning, ‘like, at all, I will shoot you. Maybe I’ll strangle you. It depends what sort of mood I’m in. Basically you’ll be dead.’
‘Uh,’ said Beth.
‘Grand!’ said Preston, starting up the engine and tossing his cigarette out the window.
They drove for fifteen minutes, weaving in and out of abandoned cars and occasionally mounting the pavement. Preston’s driving was horrendous, but no one said anything for fear of getting shot. Every now and then Beth glimpsed people running aimlessly, and she thought, surely this is a dream. Gabriel bounced in her lap, oblivious.
As he drove, Preston sang along to the radio, his enjoyment of the whole situation evident. Despite her growing dislike of this achingly handsome boy, Beth had to admit she liked his voice. It was smooth and melodic, and it almost set her at ease. He seemed to know every single song, too.
Regret began to set in as soon as the car pulled up outside an attached house with an overgrown garden and dirty windows. The house itself appeared habitable, but the outside screamed neglect to Beth. Another car was parked haphazardly in front of them, one of its rear lights smashed, its front-left wheel mounted on the pavement. A few yards ahead, a bus stop had been smashed.
After The End (Book 1): The Furious Four Page 9
