by Abbey, Kit
A rope of the black stuff dangled from a cut on zombie dentist’s cheek. It swung lazily back and forth a few times; then fell. It hit William’s neck, just below the scar, and he yowled. Pain rocketed out from the little black blob, within seconds his whole body was in agony. He screamed, muscles straining against the zombies that held him down, his eyes squeezed shut. As quickly as it had rushed him the pain began to wash away, leaving him trembling in its wake.
His brain stopped yammering hysterically about how much pain he was in, and William was able to consider the fact that the zombies could have been taking big juicy bites out of him and he wouldn’t have felt it. His eyes snapped open. Zombie-dentist’s face was still hovering inches above his own. Its grip on his hair had not loosened, so William couldn’t lift his head and check that his flesh was all present and accounted for. He tried to dislodge a few of the zombies by kicking his legs, but their weight was too much. One of the zombies shifted slightly to better hold him down, its hand moving to rest upon skin exposed by a tear in his jeans. Its cut and bleeding hand. Once again William found himself being battered by waves of intense agony. And this time, it did not fade. He desperately and instinctively tried to jerk his leg out from under zombie’s wounded hand, screaming all the while.
His strength was draining quickly away, and so it was a safe bet that it was not his struggles that made the zombies release him. For a moment William didn’t even realise they were gone. His sobs of pain morphed into sobs of relief, he laid immobile on the ground basking in the feeling of only moderate pain. But eventually the lack of a zombie grips became known, and he opened his eyes and sat up. The zombies surrounded him in a loose circle, and at his feet stood Mr. Grey holding a shiny black umbrella.
“Mr. Black,” said Mr. Grey. He reached a hand down to William.
William hoisted himself to his feet, and Mr. Grey retracted his hand with a smirk. The shirt under Mr. Grey’s suit was white and crisp. William tried not to think about all the bugs that had probably crawled onto him while he had struggled in the dirt the mud. His skin tingled and crawled unpleasantly.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Black,” said Mr. Grey. He gestured over William’s shoulder, and William turned. A rope ladder swung and twisted in the rain. William followed it upwards with his eyes and saw it was attached to a sleek grey helicopter. Unlike the helicopters that had been transporting zombie crates this one was almost silent. It hummed softly; barely audible above the rain.
“If I don’t mind what?” said William, swaying slightly. “Your bad taste in suits? Because I do mind. I have to look at you.”
“This is not a time for silly jokes,” said Mr. Grey. “Climb the ladder.”
“No,” said William.
Mr. Grey was sighed and shook his head. He slowly and deliberately reached into the breast pocket of his suit and took out a cotton bud. He moved to the nearest zombie and stuck the cotton bud into an oozing gash on its arm. Mr. Grey looked at the black tip of the cotton bud and then looked at William in a very significant kind of way.
William, who was still weak and trembling, took a few reflexive steps backwards.
“Climb the ladder please, Mr. Black,” said Mr. Grey.
Mr. Black climbed the ladder.
Chapter 67.
Madeline smiled pleasantly when William clambered awkwardly into the very fancy machine. He climbed onto a seat and relaxed, enjoying the comfort despite everything. The floor vibrated softly beneath him and everything just looked ridiculously expensive and he took savage pleasure in the knowledge he was getting mud and blood and black zombie sludge all over it.
He looked at Madeline. “Can you give me my powers back please?”
“Not just now,” she said, “but you can have a muffin.”
William took the muffin from her.
“Your brother seemed pretty upset,” said William, spraying muffin crumbs. “You should give my powers back to me.”
“My brother has been away for a long time, he doesn’t understand.” Madeline trailed off. She gazed out the window for a moment, at the tops of the trees and the rain. Then she glared at William. “I did what needed to be done.”
William brushed the muffin crumbs off of his torn and filthy shirt, focusing on them instead of Madeline’s eyes. “He took your powers away,” he said. “You know shitty it feels.”
“Yes,” said Madeline. “But I will not be ruled by pity or some equally sentimental emotion.”
“So you think Lachlan is weak because he gave your powers back?”
“I think your understanding of all this is immeasurably small,” said Madeline.
Mr. Grey’s arrival at the top of the ladder ended their conversation.
“Mr. Black,” he said, after he was seated and seatbelted, “how are you feeling?”
“Just awesome, and how about you Mr. Grey?” William felt even Rowan, queen of sarcasm, would have been impressed by the amount of sarcasm he managed to inject into the words.
“Are you feeling the effects of the a-blood?”
“The what?”
“The black substance.”
“Oh. No, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Good, good. Remarkable stuff, isn’t it? We inject just a small amount of Albert’s blood into a cadaver and the result is, well, what you saw below. We have researchers are working hard on developing it into a more effective, long lasting weapon, independent of the corpses is grows inside. They’ve had no luck yet, but I’m sure they’ll get it eventually.”
“That’s the spirit,” said William.
There was a discreet ringing, and Mr. Grey fished a slim phone from his suit pocket.
“Yes?” He said, after answering it. There was a pause, then, “excellent.” He tucked the phone away, a pleased smile on his face. “Mr. Jones and the well are trapped.”
The hum of the chopper’s engine increased slightly as it stopped hovering and started to move.
“Do you really think this effort is worth it?” Madeline asked.
Mr. Grey raised an eye brow. “Do you think it’s not?”
Madeline shrugged. “She would have come to us of her own accord eventually, if we but waited.”
“Waiting is not a luxury we can currently afford,” said Mr. Grey with a pointed look at Madeline. Which was just a nicer way of saying, ‘bitch, you getting old.’
“My age would not be an issue,” snapped Madeline, “if you would share the secrets of your own extended life.”
Mr. Grey neatly side stepped that comment. “You’re in a very cantankerous mood this evening, Madeline. When were you last this far from Albert?”
Madeline scowled at Mr. Grey, and then turned to scowl at William.
“What’d I do?” said William. He wasn’t cool with the way they were talking so freely in front of him, like he didn’t exist. It was a sure indicator that soon he wouldn’t exist. And William, for the most part, was a big fan of existing.
“Ah,” said Mr. Grey. He pointed out the window, “look.”
They were directly above water, an enormous river that William couldn’t see the end of. The rain was whipping it into a furious froth and it was the same grey colour as the clouds overhead. Unbridled bushland crowded its edges, dead and bare branches twisting amongst the live ones. But it was not all the rampant nature that took William’s breath away. Just up ahead, the water disappeared. There was water, and then there wasn’t. The chopper closed in and William’s mind made sense of the scene. It was a dam, stunning in height and width. A building of the same size in the middle of the city might not have been so out of place, but here, in the middle of nowhere… Nothing man made had ever seemed more awe-inspiring to William.
Where the water dropped suddenly and impressively, the bushland did not. Crowded hills rose majestically from either side of the river that continued on from the dam’s bottom, framing the setting sun that was just peeking out from below the rain clouds. And in the cradle of
the hills, hanging like bloated mosquitoes, were several of the heavy black helicopters; some with crates still dangling below.
It was a striking view, and for a few long moments William could not see past the enormity of it all. But as the helicopter began a slow descent his brain started to notice smaller details. Like the hundreds of zombies that swarmed along the edge of the water, and the masses of them that pushed against the dam’s base. And the maintenance walkway that extended a short distance along the top of the dam, and the two people standing at the end of it.
At first, Jones and Gwen paid the chopper no mind, but when it began to hover directly over their heads they stopped and stared up at it.
The helicopter door was opened, and the rope ladder unfurled.
Mr. Grey indicated that William should climb down it, and so William climbed down it.
Chapter 68.
Madeline sat down as soon as her feet touched the walkway on top of the dam. She didn’t even bother to Illude a cushion. She just sat on the concrete and shut her eyes and massaged her temples. Mr. Grey was the last to descend.
He straightened the lines of his suit, and said, “you’ve disappointed me Casp-”
Daisy started awake, lifting her head abruptly from Jones’ shoulder. Mr. Grey stopped mid word. He grew very still, his slowly widening eyes the only clue that this was a man made of cells, not stone.
Jones stepped backwards, his hand on the back of Daisy’s head. Mr. Grey laughed and the sound hung in the air like the awkward kid at a party. Madeline stopped rubbing her temples and glared up at him.
“What,” she snapped, “is funny? What? Do the millions of dollars worth of Recycles you’ve wasted today amuse you? Are you tickled by the state my brother is in? Does-”
“Madeline,” Mr. Grey’s voice was soft, but it brought Madeline’s rant to a halt. “Madeline, look. It’s the well. I can see it.”
Madeline looked at Daisy. Jones was tense, and Gwen’s hands grasped anxiously at the air. Daisy blinked blearily at Madeline, one hand rubbing at her eyes.
“Yes,” said Madeline, “I see her too.”
She sounded impossibly weary, but she jumped to her feet with surprising energy and stalked forward. Strands of her white hair twisted in the wind.
“Leave her alone!” said Gwen. She moved to intercept Madeline, but the old woman didn’t break stride, or even look away from Daisy. She waved a hand in Gwen’s direction and sent her flying. The walkway’s safety railing hit her in the stomach, knocking the wind from her. She teetered and it was not clear if she would stay on top of the dam or topple over the edge. Jones thrust Daisy at William, who only just managed not drop her, and dashed forward. He grabbed the back of Gwen’s jeans and yanked her back, depriving the zombies below of some company.
Madeline grasped Daisy’s chin, and pulled the girl towards her. And then she thrust her away. She shook her head, moving backwards with the same urgency that had propelled her forward.
“She’s a well,” said Mr. Grey in a voice full of reverence. “We have her, finally.”
Daisy shifted in his arms. “Billy,” she said, and nobody had called him that since his mother had died, “I feel yucky.”
Her eyes started to cloud over, and for a terrible second William thought she was going blind, right there in front of him. But then she blinked, and milky tears ran down her cheeks, leaving her eyes clear.
“Everything’s going to be ok,” he told her, trying to inject his voice with confidence and optimism. Which wasn’t easy, with zombies closing in on all sides, the air full of menacing helicopters, and Mr. Grey looking at her like he was a record collector and she was a 1963 pressing of the Beatles’ Yesterday and Today, with the butcher cover still intact.
“Give her to me William,” said Mr. Grey, “give her to me right now.”
“No!” Gwen climbed to her feet, clutching at her side. “Damn it, no!”
“It’s over,” said Madeline, her voice did not buzz with excitement like Mr. Grey’s. If anything, she just sounded tired. “She belongs to Grey Corp now.”
“She doesn’t belong to anyone!” shouted Gwen.
While they had been speaking Jones had been creeping slowly closer Mr. Grey and Madeline, who were too focused on Daisy to notice. Mr. Grey reached for her, and with an enraged cry Gwen threw herself at him, and Madeline flicked her arm out, and this time Gwen was thrown clear of the railing and into the water.
It looked sedate, the water passing over the top of the damn. But Gwen was yanked towards the edge roughly, coughing and choking as she was pulled under repeatedly.
“Mummy!” Daisy started to struggle in William’s arms, but her movement had no more force behind them than a weak kitten.
Jones exploded into movement. He ran forward, and William expected Madeline to toss him over the side as well. But she hunched over, the heels of her palms pushing hard on her temples, mouth twisted into a grimace.
It was Mr. Grey who tried to halt Jones. He stepped forward, hand raised. “Caspien,” he said, “stop this foolishness-”
Jones grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and tossed him over the edge. Not the same edge at Gwen, the edge that separated the walkway from the lake, but the edge that separated the walkway from a very long fall. William got out the first half of a shocked expletive before the helicopters opened fire.
William hit the concrete, shielding Daisy with his body. On the way down he saw at least two bullets hit Jones, but they barely slowed him. Surely even Jones could be brought down by enough bullets, the question was, did the angry choppers have enough bullets?
Madeline did not give them the chance to learn the answer. The air around them began to shimmer, like the air above concrete on a hot day. A loud pinging noise started to reverberate in William’s ears, and he realised it was the bullets bouncing off of the shimmering air. They were enclosed in a giant bubble.
Madeline pulled a phone from her pocket. “Hold you fire,” she screeched into it. “Hold it. or so help me God I will kill the lot of you!”
The pinging stopped, Madeline nodded once, twice and passed out. William could hear screaming. He sat up, and saw Jones half hanging over the edge of the dam. He left Daisy on the ground and rushed to Jones’ side.
The pushing water had shoved Gwen over the edge. She dangled, screaming, one hand fruitlessly scrabbling for purchase on the dam wall, the other clutching Jones’ wrist.
“Grab my legs,” said Jones.
Gwen could barely reach Jones’ arms, William didn’t see how she was going to reach his legs. Then Jones snapped, “William!” and he understood.
He wrapped his arms around Joneses legs. They smelled distressingly of blood and less distressingly of sweat. Jones threw his weight over the wall, and William tightened his grip and pressed himself against the ground to keep the werewolf from going over.
He couldn’t see anything, but judging by the way Gwen’s screams downgraded to scared sobbing, William figured Jones’ grip on her was more secure. Jones shifted his centre of gravity, and William didn’t have to strain as much to keep him grounded.
Jones began to pull himself and Gwen back over the wall. William tugged at his legs, although how much assistance he provided was debatable. Jones and Gwen fell over the railing and collapsed onto the concrete. Gwen was sobbing hysterically, she was soaking wet, but then they were all soaking wet thanks to the rain.
She pushed wet hair from her eyes and sat up, bloodshot eyes looking for Daisy.
“She’s fine,” said William, “I put her down over…”
He turned as he spoke, trailing off when he saw that Daisy was not really fine at all.
Madeline still lay unmoving, but standing behind Daisy looking dry and in one piece and very pleased with himself was Mr. Grey.
“No,” said Jones. He climbed, wincing, to his feet with and looked over the edge of the railing. William pulled himself up and did the same. Tangled in the bushes and r
ocks at the base of the dam was a man in a suit. Limbs at odd angles, head flopping back, it was very clearly a dead man in a suit. The zombies gave the corpse a wide berth.
William turned from Mr. Grey’s corpse to look over at Mr. Grey standing behind Daisy. At first he thought that Nobody must have arrived somehow, but there was no wedding band upon the new Mr. Grey’s finger. He’d heard the man was hard to kill, but this was too much.
“Get away from her,” growled Gwen, still on all fours on the ground.
“That’s really not going to happen,” said Mr. Grey 2.0. “We’re taking the girl.”
“Oh?” Jones made a show of looking around. “you and what army?”
“That saying really only works when the person it’s aimed at does not, in fact, right at that moment have an army behind them. You may have noticed the loyal Grey Corp employees supporting me.” He gestured up at the many helicopters, and then around at the masses of zombies. He looked at Madeline and hesitated for a second. Not even a whole second. Like the briefest slice of a second. Then he scooped Daisy up and ran.
Gwen let out a ragged, “no!” and Jones took off after him. Had he not been sporting a handful of bullet wounds he would have caught him too. But he was sporting a handful of bullet wounds, and so Mr. Grey outran him. He reached the zombies and they parted mindlessly to let him through, closing ranks around his retreating back.
Jones screamed in frustration.
“No,” said Gwen, crawling forward, “no, no.”
“Fuck,” said Jones. And then he screamed it, “fuck!”
His expletive seemed even louder than it was, as the choppers were starting to veer away from the scene, and in the wake of their engines every noise seemed more pronounced.
“We have to go after him,” Gwen gripped the edge of the railing and hauled herself upright. She took a step forward and her knees buckled.