Maybe because Soren is distracted, Jennie Nygaard finally manages to twist around just enough to plant her teeth in his thigh.
“Auv, goddamnit! Let go! Let go of me!” He sends a fist directly into her face, once, twice, three times. Jennie Nygaard ignores the punches and keeps gnawing away fiercely, ripping the pants and causing blood to spurt. Soren gets up and steps back. The zombie clamps down and is dragged a few steps before it finally loses its grip.
Soren limps backwards, clutching at his leg. “Bloody hell, she got me good …” He’s still bleeding from the wound on the back of his neck, the blood running down both sides of his neck like strings of red hair.
Jennie Nygaard still has her hands caught behind her back, which means she can’t get up. Instead, she wriggles after Soren like a giant worm. A piece of his pants leg is still lodged between her teeth.
Allan steps between them. He aims the gun at Jennie Nygaards’s head.
“No, Allan,” Soren begins.
He’s interrupted once more, as Allan pulls the trigger the second time. The shot is just as deafening as the first time.
Jennie Nygaard immediately ceases to move.
FOUR
The silence that follows is even louder than the two gunshots.
The first noise Selina registers is kids crying somewhere nearby. Then she hears something much closer: a gurgling sound coming from her own throat. She doubles over and throws up onto the floor. The sweet taste of Malibu brings her fleeting memories of last night.
Her stomach is quickly empty. It cramps up a few more times, and Selina spits into the puddle. Outside in the garden she can hear the officers shouting at each other.
“Have you gone completely insane?”
“They were zombies, goddamnit!”
“Give me the gun! Let go of it!”
Selina looks out to see them fighting over the gun.
Then her dad is by her side, pale-faced. Without a word, he grips her arm and pulls her towards the stairs.
“Dad, wait …”
But Dad doesn’t seem to hear her. He hauls her upstairs and into Louisa’s room, where a flock of scared girls—including Louisa—are standing or sitting around the floor, sobbing or staring in wide-eyed silence.
“We stay in here,” Dad says to no one in particular. “All of us. We’re safe in here.”
“What about Josefine?” one of the girls immediately asks.
Selina figures Josefine must be the girl splayed out on the grass down in the back garden with a bullet in her brain.
“She’s fine, Josefine is fine,” Dad lies and finally looks at Selina. “Stay in here with the girls. Comfort them if they get scared.” He strides back towards the door.
“Dad!” Selina says, following him. “You can’t go down there …”
“You’ll do as I say!” Dad shouts and spins around to point a finger in her face.
Selina steps back, amazed. Dad has never yelled at her before. She looks at him and realizes he’s trembling, his eyes flickering.
“I have no idea what’s going on down there,” he murmurs. “But it’s obvious they don’t have the situation under control, so I’m calling the police, and I’m also calling Ulla to tell her not to come home.” He pats his pockets. “My phone is downstairs. I’ll be back up as soon as I’ve made the calls.”
He leaves the room without further explanation, slamming the door and turning a key on the other side.
Selina turns to look at the scared girls, most of them staring back at her, unsure what to do or say. At that moment there’s a shout from the garden. Selina runs to the window. Looking down, she sees the policemen rolling around the grass, still struggling for the gun.
Soren wins the fight and gets to his feet, panting, holding the weapon. He points it at Allan as he limps backwards a few paces. “You’re … under … arrest …” he wheezes.
“You’ve been infected, Soren,” Allan says, sitting up, his shirt and hair all ruffled. “You’ll become—”
“Shut up!” Soren shouts. “And stay down!”
Allan holds up his hands. “Listen to me, goddamnit. We might still have a chance of stopping it!”
Soren doesn’t answer, but picks up the walkie. “Central,” he says.
“No!” Allan shouts. “Don’t call for backup! We can’t risk any more people getting infected!”
Soren steps a little farther away. “Yeah, we need an ambulance … one officer is wounded, two civilians are dead … We found what we assume to be the missing person … she’s dead.”
Someone pulls at Selina’s sleeve. She turns to see Louisa. Her lips are trembling. “Selina? Why is this happening on my birthday?”
“I don’t know,” Selina mutters, realizing how all of the girls are staring at her. She forces a smile. “There’s no need to be scared, we’re safe up here.”
“What about Josefine?” one of them asks.
Selina glances down onto the lawn and feels a cold shiver down her spine despite the heat. “I’m … I’m not sure about Josefine.”
Louisa leans forward to look, but Selina pushes her gently back. “Just take a seat, okay? It’ll be over soon.”
“I want Mommy,” Louisa says and starts crying.
“Your mom will be here in a minute,” Selina promises her.
But Louisa keeps crying, and it sets off a chain reaction. Soon all the girls are sobbing. Selina looks out the window again.
Allan is still sitting on the grass, his head in his palms, looking like he’s brooding over a serious problem. Soren has sat down on one of the lawn chairs. The gun is on the table next to him. He’s tending to the bite wound on his leg. The other wound, the one on his neck, is still trickling blood.
“Soren,” Allan says, suddenly lifting his head. “You need to listen to me. I’m not crazy.”
Soren sends him a brief look, but doesn’t say anything.
“You saw her yourself,” Allan goes on, gesturing towards the body of Josefine. “She was dead. I know you saw it. How do think she could just get up again?”
“Apparently, she wasn’t dead after all,” Soren growls. “Not until you shot her.”
“Yes, she was! She was dead as a doornail. I checked her pulse.”
No answer from Soren this time.
The girls’ sobbing is starting to get on Selina’s nerves. It’s making it hard to hear what the officers are saying. She turns and shushes the girls, but they hardly notice her.
“Hey,” she says. “Be quiet, all right? You need to stay quiet.”
The girls sniffle, and a few of them actually stop the waterworks.
Selina turns her attention to the open window once more.
“How about her, then?” Allan asks, pointing to Jennie Nygaard. “Did she look alive to you when she charged at you? She has been dead for at least twelve hours, and you know it!”
Soren glances at the corpse of Jennie Nygaard, but still doesn’t reply.
Allan goes on pleadingly: “This is a form of disease. It’s killing people fast and then bringing them back so they can attack other people and spread the infection. I knew it as soon as I saw the three bodies. I should have told you, but I knew you wouldn’t believe me until you saw it.” Allan hesitates for a moment. Selina can tell how he weighs his next words. “You’re already infected, Soren. I’m really sorry, but … there’s nothing we can do. And if you don’t call off that ambulance, you’ll spread the infection to a whole lot of other people.”
Soren scuffs. “This isn’t a movie, Allan.”
“No, it’s real. Do you really want the end of the world on your shoulders?”
Soren gingerly touches the wound on his neck and mutters something Selina almost can’t pick up. It sounds like: “… hurts like hell …”
Even from up here, Selina can tell how the skin around the wound is already starting to take on a greenish color; the same color Josefine’s skin had when she woke up again.
Selina’s stomach is doing somersaults.
What Allan is saying is completely ludicrous—but for some reason, it also makes sense. If it works like in the movies, then Allan is right: It’s game over as soon as you get a scratch or get bitten. It’s only a matter of time before you’ll be walking around like a flesh-eating monster yourself.
Selina bites her lip. Tries hard to think. Is there anything she can do? She assumes it’s too late to help Soren. But can she in anyway prevent the ambulance from getting here? Or that Soren gets in it?
Not as long as he has the gun …
She looks down at the gun on the table. Soren is leaning back in the garden chair, moaning and closing his eyes for a moment, his forehead gleaming with sweat.
This is insane, Selina thinks. But I have to try …
FIVE
Selina closes the window and turns to the girls. “Listen up, girls. I need to leave the room for a minute. But you guys just stay here, all right? Nothing will happen.”
“You can’t leave,” Louisa remarks, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Your dad locked the door.”
“I’ll climb out the window.”
The girls look at each other, then back at her.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Louisa asks.
“Where are you going?” another one asks.
“When will you be back?” a third one asks.
Selina puts a finger to her lips. “You need to be quiet, remember? It’s very important you don’t say anything once I open the window. I’ll be back in less than five minutes. But I don’t want you to look out the window while I’m gone. You need to stay seated, okay? Do you understand?”
A few of the girls nod.
From the other side of the door, Selina can hear Dad’s voice talking on the phone. “Yes, two officers, and one of them has gone insane … no, Louisa is fine, just don’t come home right now, okay? … Listen, I keep telling you: I don’t know!”
Selina opens the window again. It opens all the way like a door. Dad has been wanting to put a child safety-thing on it, but luckily, he hasn’t gotten around to it.
By sitting on the windowsill, she can reach the drain pipe running down the wall. She swings out her legs, and for a moment feels dizzy. It’s probably due to the hangover, because she’s never been afraid of heights—in fact, she used to do quite a lot of tree-climbing when she was little.
“Selina,” Louisa whispers behind her.
Selina turns her head and shushes her.
“I just wanted to say be careful,” Louisa whispers. “I don’t want you to fall down and hurt yourself.”
Selina sends her a quick smile and whispers: “Don’t worry.” Then, she leans out and grabs a hold of the drain pipe. The metal is already hot from the sun. The pipe seems to be securely fastened to the wall and can easily carry her weight.
She looks down at the terrace one more time. Soren is still sitting with his eyes closed. Allan, who’s sitting on the grass, looks up at that exact moment and meets Selina’s eyes. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then thinks better of it. He then simply glances at his partner and back up at Selina. He nods discretely, once.
Selina slips out and begins climbing down the drain pipe. The metal gives off tiny sounds under her weight, but luckily, Soren is complaining about the pain, so he doesn’t notice.
“Bloody hell,” he moans, leaning forward on the chair. “I’m burning up here … when’s that ambulance coming?”
Selina keeps descending. She’s only about six feet above ground, when her sweaty palm slips on the pipe, producing a high screeching sound. Selina freezes.
Soren lifts his head. His eyes are hazy. “What was that?” he mutters and looks around.
“Soren!” Allan says loudly, drawing his attention. “Why won’t you listen? You need to call and cancel that ambulance …”
“You shut up, now. You’re under arrest, remember? You have the right to remain silent, so use that right.”
Selina slides down and lands on the terrace without another sound. Her heart is beating wildly as she sneaks towards Soren and the table where the gun is. She’s only five steps away.
“The future of the world might depend on it,” Allan goes on, keeping Soren’s focus away from Selina’s direction.
“I don’t want to hear anymore from you,” Soren says, blinking and wiping sweat off his brow. “Until help is here, you don’t open your mouth—you got that?”
Selina glances at Allan, and he glances back. Unfortunately, Soren looks at Allan at that moment, and he sees his partner’s eyes flicker.
“What are you looking at?” he mumbles and turns in his chair. He stares directly at Selina, and his eyes grow wide. “Hey! Will you get back in that house!” He reaches for the gun, but the movement seems uncoordinated, and his hand misses the table, almost causing him to tip off the chair.
Before he can go for it again, Selina jumps over and snatches the weapon.
“Stop that!” Soren shouts, grabbing her by the arm.
Selina almost drops the gun, as it’s a lot heavier than she anticipated, and she pulls to get free. “Let go of me!”
But Soren’s grip is firm. He gets to his feet and grabs her with his other hand, too. She can feel the heat radiating off him as he fumbles to take the gun away from her. She fights to keep him off, and suddenly, Allan is there, pulling the weapon out of her hand and turning it on Soren. “Let her go, man. And sit back down.”
Soren lets go of Selina, takes a wobbling step backwards and holds up his hands, blinking dully. “All right now. Take it easy, Allan.”
Selina steps away from the officers. She can tell Soren is in a really bad state now. In fact, he’s struggling to even keep upright. His eyes are watering, his voice is drooly. He’s a terrible sight with the dried-up blood all over his neck, and his skin appears ash grey in the sunlight.
“Put down that gun, Allan,” he mutters dreamily. “You don’t know what you’re … what you’re doing …”
“Sit down, Soren,” Allan says without lowering the gun. “You’ve got a bad fever.”
“Do I?” Soren asks in a wondering voice, running his hand across his forehead. He looks at it and finds it dripping with sweat. “Well, what do you know? I do have a fever …” Then his eyes turn to the sky and he faints.
SIX
Selina stares from the unconscious policeman on the terrace tiles to the armed policeman standing a few feet away. Allan is looking at his partner while breathing heavily through his nose.
“Are you … are you going to …?” Selina asks meekly.
Allan looks at her like he has for a moment forgotten all about her, then nods briefly. “Thank you for helping me. You’d better go inside now.”
“Are you … sure there’s absolutely no other way? Like, completely sure? The ambulance will probably be here in a minute, and if they can help him in some way …”
“They can’t,” the young officer says, shaking his head grimly, a drop of sweat falling from his chin. “There is nothing anyone can do. Once you’re bitten …” He nods towards the house. “Go inside, please.”
Soren gives off a noise. It’s halfway between a gasp and a cough. He twitches for a moment, but doesn’t open his eyes.
“He’s already slipping into a coma,” Allan mutters, gripping the gun with both hands and spreading his feet slightly. “Go now.”
Selina goes towards the terrace door.
Suddenly, her dad’s voice calls from upstairs: “Selina! What the hell are you doing?” She looks up to see him hanging out the window, disbelief and horror on his face. “Didn’t I tell you to stay up here?”
“But I had to—”
“Close that window!” Allan shouts. “I don’t want the children to see this …”
Dad looks at Soren and then at Allan. “Christ, I hope you’re not thinking about shooting him?”
“He’s already dead.”
“No, he’s not, I can hear him breathing all the way from up here! He’s only wounded. He needs medical attentio
n. I’ve already called the police, they’re coming.”
“Dad, you don’t understand,” Selina begins.
“Selina, get inside the house!” Dad shouts.
“But he’s been—”
“Shut the fuck up, both of you!” Allan roars. He points a finger at Selina’s dad. “You, shut that window. And you …” He points at Selina. “Go inside—now!”
Dad obeys and closes the window, but only after sending Selina one last, meaningful look. Selina goes through the terrace door and closes it behind her. She doesn’t feel like looking out, but she can’t help it.
Allan is still poised above Soren with the gun. He looks up at the window on the first floor, as though to check no one is looking down. It’s only a second. But it’s enough. It happens very fast. Soren sits up abruptly and opens his eyes. His pupils are white, empty, dead, alive, hungry.
Selina screams.
Soren leans in and bites Allan’s ankle.
Allan gives a yell of pain. He aims the gun and shoots Soren through the head.
The shot rings through the house for the third time.
Soren dies for the second time.
Everything stops moving for several seconds.
Selina is staring out at the young officer through the glass of the terrace door. He bends down slowly to lift up his pant leg, revealing his ankle and a bloody bitemark. Then, he straightens up again, his expression completely blank. His eyes fall on Selina, but it’s more like he’s looking right through her.
Selina holds her breath as Allan raises the gun and places it under his chin.
No, Selina thinks, but she can’t move, can’t talk, can’t even take away her eyes.
Allan’s face has become a mixture of emotions. Selina prepares mentally for another loud bang.
But—it doesn’t come.
Allan lowers the gun again.
Selina blinks and finally starts breathing again. He can’t do it …
Then Allan does something else. Something completely unexpected. He spins on his heel and runs limpingly around the house.
What’s he doing? Where’s he going?
Dead Meat (Book 2): Dead Meat [Day 2] Page 2