Zom-B Gladiator

by Darren Shan

  ‘I’d rather save your neck.’

  ‘Even though you don’t like me?’ he presses.

  ‘I never said I didn’t like you.’

  ‘Then you do like me?’

  ‘I never said that either.’

  Carl stops and squints. ‘Are you playing mind games with me?’

  ‘No.’ I roll my eyes. ‘You’re just a guy I work with, same as the others. I’m happy to keep things pleasant, but I don’t want to do more than that. Friends aren’t my thing.’

  ‘Must be lonely up there in that tower,’ Carl says.

  ‘Suits me fine,’ I retort. ‘Now, are we sorting out those toys or what?’

  Carl looks at me a beat longer, then shrugs and starts off again. He doesn’t say anything else. I don’t either. I didn’t want to piss him off, but he kept asking until there was nothing else for it but to hit him with the truth.

  After a short, uneventful journey, we stop outside Hamleys. Any time I passed by before, it was swarming with kids and tourists. Now it’s no different to any other large building in this city, silent, no signs of life, just the occasional flickering shadow as zombies shift around inside.

  ‘It’s sad,’ Carl says. ‘It feels more like a graveyard than a toyshop now.’

  ‘Do you want to try somewhere else?’ I ask.

  ‘No. The other places will be the same. I’ll go look inside, see what I can rustle up. I might be a while—I always seem to turn into a big kid in here. Do you want to come with me, or do you want to browse by yourself?’

  ‘Actually I think I’ll stay out here and keep watch,’ I say, not wanting to go in and be confronted with all those toys, along with the realisation that no children will ever come to play with them again. ‘I’ll give you a shout if I spot anything.’

  ‘Like what?’ he laughs. ‘Elephants?’

  ‘Just get on with your job, toy boy,’ I growl and move away from the door, out of his line of sight.

  As Carl goes on the hunt for the perfect present, I shuffle along, away from the windows which are still packed with displays of toys that haven’t been disturbed, until I come to a stretch of wall that I can lean against. I glance around idly, then study my fingerbones, picking at them, cleaning them. I keep them in good shape, but with all the training and fighting, they get scraped and chipped. The scuffs don’t really bother me, but I like to keep them neat and tidy. I guess filing down the bones is the closest I get to polishing my nails these days.

  As I’m digging at a thin crack in one of the bones, trying to scrape out the dirt, I hear something rustling to my left. I look up but can’t see anything. Probably just a rat. I return my attention to my bones, but then there’s a shuffling sound off to my right. I frown and step away from the wall, squinting. The sun’s in my eyes. I raise a hand to shade them.

  Something strikes the back of my neck and a surge of electricity crackles through me. Every muscle in my body goes haywire. I collapse instantly. I try to cry out with pain, but my mouth won’t work. It’s like I’m filling with sparks. Lights dance across my eyes and I go temporarily blind.

  As my vision starts to clear, a man rushes towards me. A gag is shoved into my mouth. My hands are jerked behind my back and tied together. Someone else binds my legs. I want to scream for help, but I’m still spasming and the gag would stop me making any noises anyway.

  The guy who bound my hands starts to jam a thick sack down over my head. He pauses before he covers my eyes and waits for me to focus on him. As I do, the world swimming slowly back into place around me, I spot his dark, grey-streaked hair and brown eyes, and I think it’s Dr Oystein, that this is a test.

  Then the man’s features solidify and I realise it’s not the doc. I don’t know why I ever thought it was. The pair look nothing alike. This guy is much broader, with a menacing expression, and Dr Oystein never went around with a bullet stuck behind his right ear.

  When I spot the bullet, everything clicks and I realise what’s going on. I try to scream again, to at least alert Carl, even if it’s too late for me. But the hunter knows his job. He’s not in the habit of making mistakes.

  ‘Hello again, my bizarre little beauty,’ he whispers.

  And, as he tugs the sack down over my face, thrusting me into darkness, I try screaming one last time, unsuccessfully willing myself to bellow his name out loud for all the world to hear.

  ‘Barnes!’

  My captors pick me up and hurry along the street with me. I try kicking out at them, but I’m expertly bound and my muscles are still throbbing from the shock. I’ve never been tasered before. I didn’t think it would hurt so much. My head is ringing and it feels like I’ve been sucking batteries for a week.

  I’m bundled into the back of a van and the doors slam shut. The engine starts and we lurch forward. It’s been so long since I was in a moving vehicle, the sensation is strange. I get a bit nauseous. I never suffered from travel sickness when I was alive. Maybe it has something to do with my altered hearing.

  I’ve no idea what’s going on. Barnes is a hunter. When I met him before, he was leading a small team, killing zombies for sport. I could understand that. But why kidnap me now instead of shoot me dead when he had the chance? Does he plan to torture me?

  I wouldn’t have thought he was the type. That day in the East End, when he realised I could think and speak, he let me go. He even threatened to eliminate one of his crew, Coley, a nasty piece of work who wanted to kill me despite the fact I wasn’t like the other zombies.

  But maybe I caught Barnes on a soft day. He might have thought about it since then and decided I was fair game. Perhaps he got tired of executing mindless zombies and wanted to experiment on one who could react to his taunts.

  As I’m considering the nature of the man who now controls my fate, the sack is pulled free of my head. Barnes is squatting in front of me, grinning bleakly.

  ‘I know you haven’t forgotten me,’ he says quietly in his American accent. ‘You’re in trouble and I won’t pretend you’re not. But I’m not figuring on killing you. If you play ball, you might get out of this alive. Now, do you want me to take out that gag?’

  I nod sharply.

  ‘If you try to bite me, I’ll execute you,’ he says, showing me a hunting knife. ‘I’ll dig this straight into your brain at the first snap of your teeth.’

  I glare at Barnes as he reaches out and removes the gag, but slide my head backwards as soon as my mouth is free, away from his gloved fingers, to signal to him that I’m not going to strike. Barnes didn’t bother with gloves the first time I met him, but I guess he’s racked up the stakes a level and is getting much closer to zombies now. If you’re gonna get hands-on with one of us, you need to be more cautious.

  ‘How did you find me?’ I snarl.

  ‘I’ve been staking out Leicester Square and the area around it for several weeks,’ he says. ‘I guessed you – or those like you – would swing through sooner or later. The Square might have fallen from grace, but it’s still the heart of the city.

  ‘I’ve seen you before,’ he continues. ‘A few times. But you were always part of a group. I didn’t want to target you when you were with company. Too complicated. Always easier to pick off a stray.

  ‘Actually I wasn’t after you specifically,’ he adds. ‘Any one of you would have done. But I had a feeling it would be you. The universe works strangely that way. I don’t believe in destiny, but coincidence is a far more complex beast than most people give it credit for.’

  ‘God bless coincidence,’ the driver laughs. ‘I’m glad you didn’t let me kill her all those months ago.’

  ‘Coley?’ I growl. Barnes’s hunting partner wanted to shoot me when our paths first crossed. Barnes wouldn’t let him. Rather, he said he’d let Coley shoot me, but that he’d disable him in return and leave him for the zombies as punishment.

  ‘Guess you didn’t think you’d be seeing me again,’ Coley snickers.

  ‘Not this side of Hell,’ I snarl. ‘I hoped
a zombie would have ripped you apart by now.’

  ‘Not this fleet-footed fox,’ Coley boasts.

  ‘I’m surprised you’re still together,’ I mutter. ‘I thought you’d have gone your separate ways after what happened, Barnes threatening to shoot off your kneecaps and all.’

  ‘Nothing more than a minor quarrel,’ Coley says, glancing over his shoulder to show me his grin. He’s sporting fancy designer glasses, the same as before. His straw-coloured hair is a bit longer. Both men are wearing army fatigues.

  ‘A lovers’ tiff?’ I murmur, smiling back at Coley as best I can from my awkward position.

  Coley’s face darkens. ‘I say we cut out her tongue.’

  Barnes chuckles. ‘Not yet. Our lords and ladies might want her to sing for them first.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask.

  ‘You’ll find out soon,’ Barnes tells me.

  ‘You won’t like it when you do,’ Coley cackles and takes a bend sharply, tyres squealing. Barnes almost topples on to me.

  ‘Careful!’ he barks.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Coley says. ‘I’m in total control of this baby.’ We hit a bump and Barnes is jolted into the air. Again he has to steady himself before he falls within range of my infectious teeth.

  ‘I won’t warn you again,’ Barnes says.

  ‘You’re no fun,’ Coley pouts but slows to a more reasonable speed.

  Barnes scowls at the back of his partner’s head, then leans in close to me. ‘If it’s any consolation,’ he whispers so that only I can hear, ‘I hate having to do this. It won’t mean much to you, I know, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.’

  And the sad look he flashes me is far more worrying than any threat he might have made.

  We drive for what feels like twenty or thirty minutes. It involves a lot of zigzagging around crashed or abandoned vehicles, which slows us down. A few zombies hurl themselves at the vehicle every now and then, but they bounce off and are easily left behind. Coley swerves on other occasions to deliberately mow down zombies that are in his path. He whoops every time he hits one, sometimes pausing to reverse over them, trying to squash their heads.

  Barnes sighs and purses his lips with disapproval, but says nothing, letting Coley have his grisly fun.

  The van finally draws to a halt and Coley kills the engine. Having checked the mirrors to make sure the area is clear of the living dead, he hops out, trots round to the back and opens the doors. ‘Here, kitty, kitty,’ he purrs and reaches in for me. He grabs my feet and starts to pull me out.

  ‘Wait until I gag her,’ Barnes says.

  ‘Don’t,’ I ask him as he leans towards me. ‘I won’t bite, I swear.’

  ‘I believe you but I can’t take any chances,’ he says. ‘It won’t be for long, just until we can set you down.’

  Barnes puts the gag back in place and secures it. Then he nods at Coley, who happily hauls me out of the van. I land on the ground with a thump. Coley kicks me while I’m down, hard in the ribs.

  ‘Not such a tough girl now, are you?’ he spits.

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ Barnes says wearily, climbing out of the van and shutting the doors.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to shoot me just for kicking her,’ Coley giggles.

  Barnes frowns. ‘Some days I wonder why I keep you around.’

  ‘Because I’m good at what I do,’ Coley says smugly, kicking me again. ‘It’s the same reason I put up with your righteous crap. We work well together. We need each other, much as it might pain either of us to admit it.’

  Barnes cracks his knuckles and casts an eye over me. ‘You take the legs,’ he says. ‘I’ll take the upper body.’

  ‘You sure?’ Coley asks.

  ‘Yeah. You’d keep dropping her on her head otherwise.’

  Coley laughs with delight then picks up my legs. Barnes slips his hands under my shoulders and lifts. They juggle me around until they’re comfortable, then start ahead. They’re both strong men and they might as well be carrying a small dog for all the effort it takes them. Even so, I’m guessing they won’t want to carry me too far – they’re vulnerable with me in their hands, easy prey if zombies attack – and I’m proved right a minute later when they pass by the cool glass building of City Hall, head down to the bank of the Thames and take a left.

  HMS Belfast is docked ahead of us. I came this way when I first trekked across from the east. There were people on the deck of the famous old cruiser, armed to the teeth. They shot at me before I could ask any questions, scared me off, made it clear they didn’t welcome strangers. They’re still up there and look to be just as heavily armed. But they don’t fire at Barnes and Coley. It seems like they’re expecting us.

  The hunters carry me up the gangway. They don’t say anything. Once onboard, they lay me down and take a step back. The people with the rifles press closer. There are at least a dozen of them, more spread across the deck. They look like soldiers although they’re dressed in suits. They don’t smile, just stare at me with distaste.

  ‘Is this one of the speaking zombies?’ a man in a suit and wearing shades like Coley’s asks.

  ‘Yeah,’ Barnes replies.

  ‘You finally came good and caught one,’ the man sniffs.

  ‘I swore that I would.’

  ‘Took you long enough.’

  Barnes smiles tightly. ‘If you thought you could do better, you should have said so. I’d have been happy to spend my days lounging around here and let you go scour the streets instead.’

  The man in the suit scowls. ‘Think you’re hot stuff, don’t you, Barnes?’

  Barnes shrugs. ‘I’m just a guy who gets the job done. Now, are the lords and ladies of the Board ready to accept their delivery?’

  ‘Wait here,’ the man says. ‘I’ll go check.’

  There’s a short delay. Barnes and Coley stand at ease. The people with the rifles keep them trained on me, ready to blast me to hell if I show the slightest sign that I’m about to try to break free.

  Eventually someone comes running towards us. ‘Let me see! Let me see!’ a panting man cries and the guards around us part.

  I spot a fat man in a sailor suit prancing across the deck. The suit is too small for him and his stomach is exposed. It’s hairy and there are crumbs stuck in the hairs.

  The fat man crouches next to me and stares, eyes wide, lips quivering. He notes the hole in my chest and studies my face. His smile fades. ‘It’s a girl. I thought it would be a boy.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had a preference,’ Barnes says. ‘Does it make any difference?’

  The fat man purses his lips. ‘I suppose not. I just assumed . . .’ He shrugs and smiles again. ‘Make her talk, Barnes. Make her talk for Dan-Dan. I want to hear her before the others. I want to be the first.’

  Barnes looks at the guard in the suit and glasses, who has followed behind the guy dressed like a sailor. The guard shrugs. Barnes carefully removes my gag and shifts out of my way.

  The fat man nods at me, grinning like a lunatic. ‘Come on, little girl. Talk for Dan-Dan. Let me hear you.’

  I look Dan-Dan up and down, slow as you like, then smile lazily. ‘You’re about three sizes too large for that ridiculous suit, fat boy.’

  Dan-Dan’s jaw drops. Some of the guards smirk. Coley snorts with laughter. Barnes just stares at me.

  ‘You . . . you . . .’ Dan-Dan sputters. He starts to swing a hand at me, to slap me. Then he remembers what I am and stops. His smile swims back into place and he blows me a kiss. ‘You’re wonderful,’ he gurgles. ‘A spirited, snarling, she-snake. Everything I was hoping for and more. We’re going to have so much fun with you, little girl.’

  Dan-Dan lurches to his feet and claps his hands at Barnes and Coley. ‘Don’t stand there like fools,’ he barks, going from buffoon to commander in the space of a few seconds. ‘Bring her through to the Wardroom. The others are waiting and we’re not renowned for our patience.’

  As Barnes and Coley pick me
up again – pausing only to stick my gag back in place – Dan-Dan sets off ahead of us. He waddles like a duck but there’s nothing funny about him now. I’m in serious trouble here. And while the farcically dressed fat man is nowhere near as scary as Mr Dowling or Owl Man, he’s probably more of a threat than either of them. Both of those freaks chose to let me run free, but I’ve a horrible feeling that Dan-Dan wants me for keeps.

  Barnes and Coley carry me across the deck, down a flight of stairs, then towards the rear of the cruiser, which they refer to as the aft. Dan-Dan trots ahead of us, skipping at times, singing to himself.

  Dan-Dan opens a door and we enter a long room dominated by a massive table. It could easily seat a couple of dozen people, but only five individuals are sitting around it. They’re spread out, as if they don’t want to sit too close to one another. There are ten guards in the room, standing by the walls, surrounding the table. All have handguns and are pointing them at me.

  Coley chuckles uneasily. ‘You guys want to lower those? If you fire off a shot accidentally, you might hit Barnes or me.’

  ‘There will be no accidents here,’ a woman at the table says. She’s in her forties or fifties. Dressed to the nines, dripping in necklaces and diamonds. If she looked any posher, she’d be a queen.

  Dan-Dan takes a seat and chortles. ‘Lady Jemima is correct, as always. If we shoot you, it will be on purpose.’

  Barnes ignores the veiled threat and helps Coley set me on my feet. ‘Her name’s Becky Smith,’ he tells the six people at the table. ‘She’s one of the talking zombies.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Dan-Dan gushes. ‘I heard her speak on deck. She insulted me. I didn’t like that—she’s a naughty little minx who must be taught the error of her ways. But she can definitely speak.’

  ‘We never doubted you, Barnes,’ another man says. He’s smartly dressed in a purple suit. He looks young, but there are faint wrinkles around his eyes when he smiles, which make me think he’s older than he appears. ‘We were just concerned that it was taking you so long to find one for us.’