Zom-B #12

by Darren Shan

  “I know,” Rage growls. “I hate them too. I don’t draw many lines–my motto’s live and let live–but those sons of bitches are an exception.”

  “Why side with them then?” I ask.

  “Nothing to do with me,” he says. “Your beloved Dr. Oystein dealt them in. If such a wise and peaceful man wants to party with the Ku Klux Klan, who am I to disagree?”

  I scowl at Rage, still wanting to stick up for the doc somehow, despite all that he has done and is planning.

  “Dr. Oystein needs their help to overcome Mr. Dowling,” Rage says softly as we pass through the ranks of soldiers and Klanners. “I bet he hasn’t told them what he’s got lined up if they win. They wouldn’t be so eager to pledge themselves to his cause if they knew that he was setting all of the living up for extinction.”

  “We’d really throw the cat among the pigeons if we told them,” I mutter.

  Rage nods. “I thought about that. I was chatting with Ingrid earlier–she’s not as fond of me as she used to be, not after the Pearse and Conall incident, but she was prepared to listen to my side of the story–and I thought about filling her in and letting her tell the others. But, as sweet as that would be, it will be even sweeter if we proceed as planned. I want to see the crazy Dowling brothers square off against one another.”

  We come to a set of stairs and trot up three flights to an ordinary room. There’s no sign that this is a command hub, except for the people present. Dr. Oystein and Owl Man are there, along with Master Zhang and Reilly. A few army officers are also in attendance. I know one of them, Josh Massoglia, a captor of mine from way back. He winks in a friendly way when he sees me, but I ignore him and focus on the final pair, a man and woman. The man is in KKK robes, though he’s removed the hood. The woman is wearing a sharp, stylish business suit.

  Justin Bazini and Vicky Wedge.

  “I thought you two were dead,” I snap at the smiling members of the now-defunct Board.

  “You wrote us off too soon,” the billionaire Bazini says smoothly. “It was a close call, but we evaded Mr. Dowling’s dread troops. You know what we’re like, Miss Smith—we always have an exit strategy.”

  “Disappointed to see us?” Vicky Wedge smirks. She used to be a right-wing politician. My dad thought she was fabulous.

  “Not at all,” I smile. “This way I’ll hopefully get to see both of you die. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it will be slow and horrible.”

  Justin and Vicky laugh but Dr. Oystein doesn’t. He looks at me sadly, as if he’s ashamed of the company he’s been forced to keep. The odd thing is, I think he really does feel uncomfortable having to strike a deal with scum like this. The doc would rather do things his own way, without having to rely on the power-mad likes of Justin Bazini and Vicky Wedge. But he’s a realist. He knows that sometimes he has to sell his soul in order to proceed. It’s a price he’s willing to pay, convinced as he is that God is asking it of him.

  “Good to see you again, Becky,” Josh says.

  “I can’t say the same,” I toss back.

  The soldier who was once my prison warden makes a face. “Don’t forget that I set you free all those months ago. I could have torched you along with the rest of the zom heads.”

  “I wish you had,” I mumble.

  Josh sighs. “Sometimes it’s not worth doing a good deed for someone.”

  “It is time to return to business, gentlemen,” Dr. Oystein says. “Let’s not lose our focus.”

  “No fear of that,” Josh says. “I’m focused like a hawk.”

  “As are we all,” Justin agrees. “So tell us the plan, Oystein. You can’t call us here like this and then leave us hanging.”

  Dr. Oystein shrugs. “Like I told you, with B’s aid I can find Mr. Dowling’s base. I had an idea where it was, but we were never able to target him because of the vial of Schlesinger-10 which he possessed.”

  “And now he doesn’t have that,” Josh nods. “Yeah, you said. But you also said that Becky asked one of the babies to hide it. What if the clown has found it or if the baby didn’t do what Becky told it to?”

  Dr. Oystein shrugs. “If Mr. Dowling has it, we’ll try to wrest it from him. If we fail, and he looks as if he’s going to open it, we will have to retreat.”

  “We’ll lose an awful lot of men,” one of the officers notes.

  “Oh, please,” Vicky snorts. “Nobody here is worried about them.”

  “Speak for yourself,” the officer says angrily. “I care about my troops.”

  “Too bad for you,” Vicky says sweetly, and turns her back on the seething soldier. “So the girl leads us to the clown’s base. We follow and engage the mutant enemy. What then?”

  “It depends,” Dr. Oystein replies. “If Albrecht has recovered the vial and threatens us with it, we’ll have to flee and plot afresh. Otherwise we’ll fight on and kill him.”

  “You’re happy for us to execute him, despite the fact that he’s your brother?” Josh asks.

  “I will grieve for Albrecht if we succeed,” the doc says, sharing a dark look with the equally grim-faced Owl Man. “But we cannot let him live. I am prepared to sacrifice him. There is no other way.”

  “You’re a cold fish,” Justin says. Then he grins. “That’s why I’m warming to you.”

  “We must also look for the baby who hid the vial,” Master Zhang says, speaking for the first time. “We do not fully understand the mind-set of the babies. Even if we did, this one seems to act in a different manner than the others, according to the reports.”

  “Yes,” Owl Man nods. “Holy Moly is an unusual specimen. Maybe it is a result of the hole in its head, but it seems to be more of an individual than the rest of the infants.”

  “Even if the baby did as B asked,” Dr. Oystein continues, “there is a chance that it will seek to recover the vial if it thinks we are poised to overcome the mutants. It might return the vial to Albrecht in that case, so that he can force us back. We must search for the child and either neutralize it or convince it to give us the vial.”

  Justin frowns. “You think we can do that?”

  “The babies look upon Becky as their mother,” Owl Man says. “They love her unconditionally. Holy Moly will listen to her. If we can find it.”

  “What about the other babies?” Josh growls. “The vicious little beasts tore us apart in Battersea. What makes you think we’ll fare more favorably this time?”

  “They had the element of surprise on their side before,” Master Zhang says. “Now that your men know what to expect, they should be better prepared. Also, the babies will be in a defensive rather than an offensive position. That changes things considerably.”

  “Even so,” Josh says, “I don’t fancy our chances, not having seen the mini monsters in action.”

  “Remember, we don’t have to kill them all,” Owl Man says. “We only need to find Albrecht. If we can remove him from the equation, the babies will fall under our control. Then you will only have the mutants to deal with, and I suspect many of them will switch sides if their leader is toppled.”

  Josh is skeptical. “You really think you can control the babies?”

  “We can’t,” Dr. Oystein says softly. “But B can. She is their mother. They crave the love and affection of a parental figure. If Albrecht is not there to fill that role, they will transfer all of their love and loyalty to her, and she can convince them to accept us as their foster parents.”

  “You trust her to cooperate?” Justin asks dubiously.

  “Oh yes,” Owl Man answers, smiling slyly. “Becky will do anything we ask. She is under my direct control, so she cannot deny me.”

  Justin studies me closely. “Interesting,” he purrs. “Maybe I’ll ask for some personal time with her when we’re done with this business. I learned quite a few things from Dan-Dan during our long days and nights together. Perhaps I’ll try to revive his legacy.”

  As I glare at the smirking billionaire, he slams his hands together and bellows at the
others in the room, asserting his authority. “Enough of the chitchat. It’s time to go to war. Let’s get this show on the road!”

  THIRTEEN

  We roll out, several hundred soldiers, Klanners and Angels, with a few civilians added to the mix for good effect.

  Ciara remains behind with the twins to keep the home fires burning. Cian and Awnya are mad as hell that they’re missing out on the action. They glare after us as we stream through the open gates. Dr. Oystein stops to say something to them and they don’t look quite so unhappy when he moves on. He must have told them they were doing an important job here, something like that. The doc is great at finding the right words to calm a person down. The best I’ve ever met.

  We march through the streets as quietly as we can, Whitechapel Station our destination. A lot of zombies spot us as we pass and come roaring out to feast on the fresh brains of the living, lured from their shelters, despite the rays of the sun. Our troops deal with them casually, the Angels tackling and dispatching most of the assailants, the soldiers finishing off the few who slip through their undead, protective net.

  Owl Man quizzes me as we proceed, milking me for information about Mr. Dowling’s base, where it is, the entrance, the layout. Even though he’s been there many times, he’s always been blindfolded well away from the base and led there by mutants, who’ve pushed him in a cart some of the way to further disorient him. He passes along the details to the other key players as I reveal them, and a hasty plan is knocked together while we walk.

  He hasn’t said anything about me having to stick close to him. I think it’s slipped his mind. But it certainly hasn’t slipped mine. I can’t escape in the middle of this lot, but I’m watching for an opportunity, waiting for the right moment. In the meantime I act like an obedient little puppy, hoping Owl Man won’t think about making me do his bidding if I appear to be playing along voluntarily.

  Justin Bazini and Vicky Wedge are accompanying us on our trek. I’m surprised they’re part of the hunting party. I thought they’d secrete themselves somewhere safe and watch on a video feed from afar. Maybe they’ve grown tired of the passive life and want to dirty their hands.

  The humans are nervous. An air of tension hangs so thickly about them that it’s almost a fog. But nobody forced them to come. They’re here because they want to fight for the future of their species and be part of the force that strikes the decisive blow, vanquishes Mr. Dowling and secures control for the living.

  At least that’s what they think. They’d be even more nervous if they knew Dr. Oystein was planning to double-cross them, that Mr. Dowling was actually humanity’s best hope of survival. If the doc kills him and forces me to bend the babies to his will, he’ll tell Holy Moly to fetch the vial of human-eradicating Schlesinger-10, then turn it on those who think of him as an ally. He’ll show no loyalty to these brave men and women. They’ll die with all the rest of the living.

  He could assist them if he wanted, turn them into mutants before uncorking the vial. He’ll have unlimited access to Mr. Dowling’s secrets once the clown has been eliminated. He could create his own army of mutants out of these soldiers and Klanners, a reward for the humans who helped him realize his goals.

  But he won’t. He wants the adults out of the way. The removal of an entire generation. No one left to pass on bad habits to the babies.

  I’m still being grilled by Owl Man when we arrive at the Tube station, and he carries on quizzing me as Dr. Oystein’s Angels, under the command of Master Zhang, push ahead to clear the area of reviveds. They operate swiftly and mercilessly, and soon the screams of dozens of zombies are echoing out to us.

  Many of the humans shiver but nobody breaks away. Josh Massoglia and Justin Bazini chose their troops well. Everyone here is in the fight to the bitter end.

  Eventually it goes quiet. There are a few grunts and shouts over the next few minutes as the Angels flush out any stragglers and finish them off. Then Master Zhang emerges. He looks grim, but that’s nothing new, just his normal expression.

  “The area is ours,” Zhang reports to Dr. Oystein. “There were four mutants on watch. We killed three of them. The other got away.”

  “Then they’ll know that we’re coming.” Dr. Oystein sighs. “That is unfortunate but hardly unexpected.”

  “Did you manage to question any of the mutants before you killed them?” Owl Man asks.

  “Yes,” Zhang says. “One of them confirmed that the clown was back in residence. Mr. Dowling returned with a heavy heart after your message was passed on to him. He’s waiting there for you.”

  “And I’m coming as promised,” Owl Man says.

  “Just bringing a few unexpected friends with you,” Justin Bazini laughs. “He won’t react too happily when he finds out that you’ve been deceiving him all this time. I’m glad I won’t be with you, gentlemen. I think this will prove rather a bloody battle.”

  “You’re backing out?” I ask.

  “Of course. Did you think I’d risk my life on such a dicey venture? No, I’m not interested in sacrificing myself for the greater cause. I simply came this far to oversee things and be part of the push for victory. You were so focused on what lies ahead that you probably missed my official photographer.”

  Justin points to a cameraman who is standing on the roof of a car and taking photos of us.

  “He’s been trotting along, snapping away to his heart’s content,” Justin beams. “I’ll go through the shots later and pick those I want to preserve for posterity.”

  “So where are you heading now?” I ask. “Back to the Bow Quarter?”

  “No,” he says. “I’ll return to the headquarters where I based myself after the fall of Battersea Power Station, sip some champagne and follow the conflict live—lots of my soldiers have video cameras attached to their helmets.”

  I grin mockingly. “An armchair voyeur. I thought you’d changed when I saw you marching along, that you’d grown a pair of cojones.”

  “Oh, I have a very fine pair of cojones,” Bazini says calmly. “I just don’t feel the need to put them on the chopping block.”

  As he’s saying that, a small helicopter buzzes into view overhead. It sets down close to where we’re standing, in a circle hastily cleared by Bazini’s soldiers.

  “My carriage awaits,” Bazini says, waving at me loftily.

  “Splendid.” Vicky beams, stepping forward with him. “I adore helicopters.”

  Justin clears his throat. “You weren’t listening, my dear. I said my carriage awaits. Not our.”

  Vicky stares at him, shaken. “You’re not taking me with you?” she squeaks.

  “I need you here,” he says, offering her his most sharklike political smile. “You must be my eyes and ears on the ground. I want you to work with the others and ensure they keep in line with our wishes.”

  “But it’s going to be a bloodbath,” Vicky shrieks. “Most of the people going down there won’t survive. I’ll be as open to attack as the rest of them.”

  Justin beams mercilessly. “Then you’ll have to pray that luck is with you.” His smile fades. “You’ve served me admirably, and I hope this isn’t the end of the road for us. But I want you to stay and convey my orders to the troops. This is important and I know you won’t let me down. You’ve never disobeyed a request of mine in the past. You know better.”

  Vicky gulps. Her lower lip trembles. If she wasn’t a coldhearted, racist bitch, I might feel sorry for her. Finally, under Justin’s challenging gaze, she manages a weak smile and croaks, “Of course I’ll stay, if that’s what you want.”

  “Excellent.” He kisses her cheek, pinches her bum and heads for the waiting helicopter, swaggering like the foul god of war that he is.

  “Bazini,” I call to him. “If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon.”

  “The feeling, beastly girl, is mutual,” he trills. Then he trots to the chopper, hops in and takes off, sparing neither a gesture nor a thought for those he’s left behind.

 
; “His days are numbered,” Owl Man murmurs in my ear.

  “Good,” I grunt. “If all of the human race has to fall in order for the likes of him to be taken down, I guess it’s an almost acceptable trade-off.”

  I share a wry smile with Owl Man. Then Josh Massoglia blows a whistle and calls to the assembled troops.

  We advance.

  FOURTEEN

  We head along the tracks until one of the team finds the panel that I told Owl Man about. It’s cleverly disguised to look like just another part of a standard wall. If you weren’t looking for it, you’d never notice it.

  A couple of engineers dismantle the panel to reveal the low, narrow tunnel beyond. Josh steps forward and nods for me to join him. We stare into the gloom.

  “Even smaller and tighter than you led us to believe,” Josh mutters. “And you say there’s a maze of tunnels like this one?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ll be able to find your way through it?”

  I nod. “I wasn’t paying much attention when the babies brought me this way, but Mr. Dowling has mental maps of all the tunnels and I copied those over when I bonded with him.”

  “And you think it took about half an hour to make it to the clown’s lair?” Josh presses.

  “Yeah.”

  Josh rubs his chin unhappily. “We’ll be vulnerable. The tunnel’s just a couple of meters high, maybe less in places from what I can see of it. Many of my people will have to advance in a crouch.”

  “You should have hired Munchkins for the job,” Rage jokes.

  “Are you having second thoughts?” Dr. Oystein asks.

  “No,” Josh sighs. “It’s too late for those. I’m just saying it’s going to be hard. I’ve a bad feeling about this. Maybe we can send a small team ahead with Becky to check that the way is clear before the rest of us follow.”

  “We have no time for that,” Zhang snaps. “Dowling knows we are coming. We must strike swiftly, before he can organize his forces.”