What happened in the womb when the disease struck? Was his baby killed straight out, or was there some sort of zombified baby still inside her? Maybe it had tried to eat its way out. His knees wobbled and only the bed kept him standing. He was half-tempted to rip the gas mask off her. It made things much simpler. Whatever these people were going to do, and he had a pretty good idea about that, it wouldn't be pleasant.
Jackson was nearly out of sight. Alex blinked, kicking himself, and set off in pursuit. Jackson's voice grew louder and he could hear him twenty feet away. He broke into a run, weaving between the beds. He made good ground until his foot caught on a sheet and slipped, and he flew forwards. His face caught the edge of one of the beds as he crashed down and, though his hands stopped his fall, his head was already spinning.
He thumped to the floor and lay still, blinking as the lights dimmed. He was going to be sick. He swallowed a couple of times and pushed himself to his knees. He had to get up and keep going. If Jackson got to the entrance and attacked those men there'd be hundreds of soldiers in here and that would be that.
He pulled himself up the bed and set off, limping as his leg registered the massive great bruise already forming on it. Jackson was even further ahead now, but he didn't dare go fast for fear of repeating his fall. The huge man was causing mayhem as he plunged through. One of the sheet wires snapped and sounded like the rigging of a ship slapping against the wooden mast.
Alex ducked, waiting for it to take his face off. Luckily, it flicked up into the air, like a striking snake, before tumbling down among the beds. He staggered, dizzy again. When he looked up he saw the roof of the tent and everything came into focus. But when he looked at Jackson, he saw hundreds of flapping sheets. His perspective was all screwed up, and ones he thought were distant grabbed his arms and tried to tangle him. Then he reached out to push one aside and it was still far away.
He waded on, shoving and pushing, and every moment saw a new face, smooth-skinned and blonde-haired and smothered in a gas mask. He pushed aside a sheet and screamed. She stood right before him, blonde hair already greying, and smooth skin pale and cracking. Her eyes were sunken into her young face and her beauty had been consumed by the virus he had made.
She reached for him and for the briefest moment, he thought of letting her. It would be fitting. Then he grabbed her outstretched hands and shoved her to one side. She stumbled and fell onto the bed, back bending as she landed. He grabbed her legs and hoisted her all the way so she disappeared over the far side of the bed.
Her gas mask lay on the floor. Had Jackson caught it accidentally or had he torn it off as he passed? It wasn't a question he wanted to ask. It wasn't a question he wanted an answer to. His hands were shaking and sweaty. He just had to catch Jackson.
Then the woman surged around the end of the bed on her hands and knees, with her lips pulled back from her yellowing teeth. He groaned and squeezed his eyes half closed as he kicked her in the head. She growled and dropped to her face. He gritted his teeth as he stamped straight down onto the back of her skull. Its skull. He had to think of it as an it, because that's what it was.
Something cracked beneath his heel and he stepped back, bile rising in his throat. She lifted her head, showing him her shattered nose streaming blood. But she still reached for him so he kicked again, knocking her down. Then he stamped and stamped until the cracking sound became soft. He stopped abruptly and vomited beside the body. Bile streamed from his lips when he heard the shout that could only be Jackson.
'This isn't God's will.'
He boomed it out, sounding like a crazed vicar, preaching to an unconscious congregation. Alex put his hands on the floor to push himself up. His stomach heaved again as his fingers slipped in the warm blood, but he clambered to his feet and set off. His hands left red stains on the sheets as he pushed his way through them.
'You aren't the soldiers of god. You're nothing but liars and evil men.'
He sounded like a lunatic. Perhaps he was. He definitely wasn't all there. Alex hesitated, catching sight of Jackson between the sheets. His hands were raised above his head and he looked like a figure from the Old Testament, raining his anger down upon the nonbelievers. He was huge. Alex looked at his blood-stained hands and wondered what he was going to do when he got there.
Another voice joined the fray.
'We are the rulers of the new world, little man. Your kind are extinct. You believe in something that no longer exists.'
Alex groaned. Bloody religion. That's what it always came down to. But he could no longer deny its existence, which put him in a very confused place. Not that it made any difference if they got killed. Being murdered in St Paul's would be an entirely unique way to go.
He traipsed closer and hesitated, grabbing hold of the nearest bed. He'd just stamped a zombie to death. His gut lurched and he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the real world to click back into focus. It didn't, so he kept walking.
He got close enough to smell the sweat coming off Jackson and thumped him on the shoulder. Jackson spun, eyes flashing and furious. Alex backed off a step and thrust his chest out, trying to make himself feel and look bigger. It was pointless. He was still enormous.
'We need to get out of here, what are you doing?'
'How can we leave when it's like this?'
The big man swept his hands wide. Alex looked back at the white sheets and the beds. 'I know, I get it, but if we stay, a bunch of soldiers are going to come in and shoot us and we'll have achieved nothing.'
Jackson pulled his gun down from his shoulder and brandished it. 'Not if I shoot them first.'
'Don't be stupid. There are too many of them. It doesn't matter how many you shoot, they'll still kill you.'
'Actually, we won't.'
Alex looked past Jackson, seeing the man who had spoken. His robes were a pale grey colour, so he wasn't one of the bigwigs, but he wasn't sure it made much difference.
'You are far too interesting to kill. You survived the plague, despite overwhelming scientific evidence to suggest that no one should. You need to be studied and analysed.'
Alex chuckled. The guy sounded like him. Only they'd find nothing, because the person they used as an excuse for what they'd done had made them survive. He didn't know how and the word magic felt wrong. But he'd changed them somehow and not through any scientific means. Alex wasn't about to tell him that, though. Anything that kept them alive for longer had to be a good thing.
At that moment, a hand appeared around the robed man's throat and yanked him off his feet. Alex dashed forwards, seeing Luke's face turning red as he applied the pressure. The robed man flapped his arms about and struggled furiously, but it didn't last. His struggles slowed and his eyes rolled up in his head then closed.
Luke dropped the body to the ground and Alex stared at it. 'Did you kill him?'
'The soldiers I have some sympathy for. This guy, not a bit. He wasn't ever going to change.'
He nudged the body with his foot and turned to look at the door of the cathedral. On cue, another robed man appeared and with him came soldiers. Alex waited for Luke to work his mojo but as more of them poured in, the angel shook his head.
'There's too many. Run.'
He set off for the far wall, where they'd first come in and Alex charged after him. Gunshots rang out and something struck the stone just before him. He yelped and stopped dead, watching Luke as he zoomed away. Then something hit Luke in the arm and a spray of blood flicked across the stone as he fell.
Alex's mouth fell open as Luke hit the floor. Then he jumped, grabbing Luke beneath the shoulders and hefting him to his feet.
'I'm alright, it's fine, just a shock. Oh, bloody hell, I'm bleeding.'
'Yeah, that happens when you get shot. Come on.'
The bullets kept flying and seconds later he dragged them both to the floor. Staying standing in that was like keeping your hand on the table while someone did the knife trick from Aliens. The sound bounced around the cathedral unt
il it sounded like an entire army was shooting at them.
'Where do we go?'
Luke mumbled something and scrabbled to his feet. He headed for the wall but the soldiers were racing towards them and cut off the route. Alex hauled his arm and they set off deeper into the cathedral. 'Are there any other doors?'
'I think so, but I don't know where they are. Head for the tent.'
It was only as they turned back that he realised Jackson was nowhere to be seen. He'd been in the entrance to the tent when they left but he hadn't followed them out and now he was nowhere. They dashed into the tent and the roar of gunfire abruptly ceased, the echoes chasing them into the white.
Bayleigh
It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. A small voice inside mocked her, asking how she could doubt watching someone get shot when there were zombies outside. But still reality refused to click into place.
She saw Luke's face as he hit the ground and the primary emotion was one of surprise, like he didn't quite believe he'd been shot. Perhaps that was why she couldn't believe it either. She'd known him for less than twenty-four hours but already he seemed invincible. She knew he wasn't of this world but it was more than that. He carried himself like he was invincible, like nothing could touch him.
Now there was blood on the stone and a bullet in his arm and his face was twisted in pain. And all she could do was stare and try to stop her hands shaking.
'What do we do?'
She glanced at Krystal and was about to shrug. She couldn't do that, though. Krystal and Ed were looking at her like she had all the answers. And David was good for precisely nothing. He was sat away from them, arms wrapped around his knees while he rocked back and forth. She needed to do something. She had to get them out of there.
She thought of Layla and sneered. Because she was so good at saving people and keeping them safe. But the kids didn't know that. They only knew that she had a sword and looked like she knew something. Or maybe they were just too scared to do anything themselves. It didn't make any difference. One way or another, it was down to her.
She crawled along the floor until she reached the metal railing and peered through. A whole gang of soldiers had come into the cathedral and were spreading out. Bullets whirred and hissed past her hiding place. Alex and Luke were back on their feet and ran into the huge tent that loomed out of the darkness. It reminded her of something from The Wall by Pink Floyd and at any moment some giant creature would burst free and march across the cathedral.
As they disappeared into the tent the gunfire stopped, replaced by the shouts of the soldiers and their boots cracking across the stone floor. She watched them pile into the tent until only a couple waited outside. The door they needed was just up the wall from where she crouched. She thought she could find it. She'd need a minute, though, to be sure.
She turned and saw David. What had he said earlier? He was the wind. With a sick feeling welling up in her stomach, she crawled back and crouched before him.
'I need your help.'
He didn't respond, his eyes fixed on his interlaced hands.
'David, I need your help. Are you there?'
Still nothing. She touched his hand, ever so gently, but he jerked away. This wasn't working. She slapped him across the top of the head like an errant school-boy. 'Wake up. You have to help or these kids are going to die.'
He peered at her through bleary eyes. 'Why did you hit me?'
'I need your help.'
'Yeah, but you didn't have to hit me.'
She almost punched him. Instead, she pressed her clenched fists into the stone and ground her teeth together. 'Will you help me?'
'What do you want me to do?'
He couldn't have been less enthusiastic, but it was better than nothing. She blushed as she spoke. 'You run fast, right?' She was playing him. But his eyes lit up, and he perked up and nodded like a Labrador. It was too easy. But she had to think about the kids. They came first.
'Yeah, I run faster than all of them. I'm the wind.'
'That's right, that's just what I thought. I need you to run.'
She thought he was going to set off straight away and she put her hand on his arm. 'Hold on. There are soldiers out there, with guns. You need to distract them while I get the kids into the tunnels. You can just run past them and straight out the cathedral. You'll be fast enough to avoid them, right?'
A thought struck her as he stood. Luke still had the device. So the moment they were out of here, if they got out of here, they would still have to avoid the zombies. She let out a long breath and rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands.
One thing at a time.
She glanced over at Krystal and Ed, who were still staring at her with curious eyes. What would they think of her using David as bait?
She didn't have time to think about it. 'We'll meet up…'
David took her arms and shook her gently. His voice was very different when he spoke. The hysteria was gone, replaced by a calm that was almost as creepy in its intensity.
'We'll get out of this. I'll meet you at the hospital, St Bart's, where we came in. Find a room and lock yourselves in, okay?'
She nodded and he was gone. He was out of the chapel before she had time to grab the others and get them moving. He screamed and hollered, racing across the cathedral waving his hands above his head. The three soldiers waiting outside the tent levelled their guns and started firing.
She turned her eyes to the kids and dragged them along with her as she left the chapel and sneaked down the wall. She panted, breath coming in short bursts as she ran her hand along it. Her fingers were raw by the time they slipped through the apparently hard concrete. She put a foot through before Ed caught her arm.
'It's dark in there.'
'It is but it's straight and simple. We just walk until we see the light.'
'David got lost. And he's not right in the head now.'
'I'm not sure he was right in the head before we came in, Ed, but I know what you mean.'
She pulled her phone from her pocket and checked it. She had less than twenty percent left, but the kids didn't need to know that. She closed all the windows to conserve power and flicked on the torch.
'Okay? Ready to go?'
Krystal stepped through the wall, marvelling at her foot disappearing into solid stone. Bayleigh went next, but Ed grabbed her arm and came through at the same time. They stood together in the darkness, staring around at what the torch revealed. The walls were covered in shallow carvings and every one of them was of pain.
There were people on crosses, crucified with holes in their stomachs and limbs torn off. There were people ravaged by wild animals and burning and beheaded and dismembered. There were women… She quickly turned the torch to the smooth stone floor and started up the passageway.
They were in St Paul's. This was a Christian place, a place of love and harmony. Who made these tunnels? Who wanted anyone coming through them to see those horrible things? A whole host of questions ran through her mind, about the cavern towards which they headed and the miniature church that lay there. What was it used for? Her torchlight flicked onto a wall and she saw a faint carving of a body impaled by spears. The carving was small and simple, but it lit her imagination until she thought she could hear the person screaming.
She hurried the children on, hoping they didn't notice the way the light flickered and dimmed.
David
He ran. There were noises, bangs that made his ears hurt and his shoulders tense, but he ignored them. He ignored everything save the burning in his legs and the wind that rushed past him. He became one with it. He became the wind.
The exit to St Paul's lay dead ahead and nothing was going to stop him. Nothing could stop the wind. The bullets faded, their shooters giving up. They knew as well as him how pointless it truly was.
He raced through the door and straight into the two soldiers standing just outside. The impact knocked one right off his feet and down the steps of the cathedral. The o
ther was more solid and only rocked back, swearing. David raced past him, taking the wide concrete steps two at a time. Before him lay the trucks, five of them lined up like slabs of concrete. More soldiers milled around outside the Tesco. And beyond them, were the zombies.
He'd almost forgotten about them. Somehow, in between the cathedral and the huge cavern beneath and his amazing meeting with the holy lady, he'd forgotten all about them. Now it came rushing back and he realised, heart dropping to his boots, that Bayleigh had used him. There was no chance of him escaping. She'd known it, too, the way her eyes dropped when she spoke to him. But she'd wanted to get the children out safely and he couldn't argue with that. And he was the wind.
He had a split second to make his choice and, for once in his life, didn't hesitate. He headed for the furthest truck, chased by shouts but no gunfire. Not yet. He was between the groups of soldiers. And still they dawdled, watching him as though they weren't quite sure if he was real. In that brief moment he crossed the open space and grabbed the door handle.
He hauled it open and climbed up. The keys hung from the ignition. He yelped in wonder and fired it up, grinning from ear to ear at the low rumble. He slammed it into reverse, wincing at the grinding gears, then put his foot down.
The truck leapt backwards and onto the street. He was frozen for a moment, watching Cafe Rouge come rapidly closer in the wing mirrors. Then he stamped on the brakes, stuck it in first and accelerated. He hauled the truck round and set off towards the centre of town. From the corner of his eye he watched the soldiers running for the other trucks. But they were way too slow.
He cackled and slapped the steering wheel. This was like the wind, only with power. The truck was heavy beneath his hands and the first car he hit bounced out the way like it weighed nothing. It was the same for the next few as he ploughed a furrow down the centre of the street.
Thirteen Roses Book Two: After: A Paranormal Zombie Saga Page 16