Zom-B #12

by Darren Shan

  “Besides, you would be equally vulnerable here,” Dr. Oystein adds. “Albrecht might have set explosives in the roof above us. He could bring it crashing down on your heads at any given moment.”

  Josh looks up sharply. “If he’s wired this one, he might have wired the roofs of the tunnels too.”

  “Perhaps,” the doc says. “I do not think he will risk killing me by bringing them down–he finds the world a more interesting place with me in it to plot and battle against–but if he is more desperate than I imagine…”

  Josh curses, then forces a shaky smile. “What the hell. Let’s push on. Take the lead, Becky. We’ll be close behind.”

  I move into the tunnel, flanked by Dr. Oystein and Owl Man, Sakarias and Rage just behind us. We proceed in a straight line until we come to the first branch. I stop and stare, waiting for Mr. Dowling’s memories to snap into place.

  “Make sure you take the correct turn,” Owl Man whispers. “At this and every other junction. Do not lead us astray.”

  “The thought never crossed my mind,” I lie, because of course it had. But now that Owl Man has commanded me to follow the right path, the chance to strand them in the tunnels is lost. Although, that having been said, he still hasn’t ordered me to stay close by his side, so I cling to the desperate hope that I can slip free at some point.

  As the map forms inside my head, I find myself turning left. I try to fight it and turn right, to lead my captors a merry dance, but Owl Man’s hold over me is too great.

  We progress, an army at my heels, me up front guiding them, a puppet in Owl Man’s hands, the figurehead on the prow of the good ship Destruction.

  FIFTEEN

  We make slow progress, shuffling along, stretched thinly, with barely room for the troops to march three abreast. They’re sweating, grumbling, twitchy. They didn’t expect it to be this claustrophobic. Apart from a few lights, it’s as dark as a mine. The soldiers have flashlights, but they’ve been told not to light them, since we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.

  Despite our attempts at stealth, everyone knows it’s only a matter of time until we’re attacked, and the assault finally comes when we’re deep into the maze, far from the exit.

  I don’t see our assailants–they strike farther back down the line–but I hear the screams as humans are targeted by mutants or babies. Scattered gunfire. More screams.

  “What’s happening?” Josh bellows, and one of his soldiers comes pushing through the crowd to report.

  “They’re hitting us from smaller side tunnels,” the soldier gasps. “Pulling us away one at a time. Dragging the victims off into the darkness.”

  “Tell everyone to bunch up and stand back to back,” Josh snaps. “Open fire if they hear footsteps or see anything. Those with bayonets should hold them close to the ground—the babies come in low.”

  There are more screams as we nudge ahead even slower than before. I glance back and see blood spurting into the air, hitting the ceiling, dripping back onto the heads of those still alive.

  As I’m watching, a mutant’s head and shoulders appear out of the ceiling. There must be vertical shafts up there, like chimneys. The mutant grabs a soldier by her head and twists, snapping the woman’s neck. Another soldier turns and fires, but the mutant has already withdrawn, laughing hysterically.

  Sakarias barks and I look ahead. I spot a line of babies, their eyes glowing red.

  “If they attack you–or if anyone else tries to harm you–defend yourself,” Owl Man says commandingly. “Fight to the bitter end.”

  “Don’t I always?” I mutter sourly, but Owl Man need not have worried. Though the babies stream towards us seconds later, they dash through my legs, and the legs of those close to me, and target the soldiers and Angels behind us, fangs snapping left and right, spreading fear and pain in a swift, miniature tsunami.

  We struggle on while under siege, the soldiers fighting back as best they can, crawling over the bodies of the dead and wounded, doggedly following Owl Man and me as we shuffle along unchallenged.

  I walk in a dazed state, trying to drown out the screams, taking turns through the maze when I feel that I should. Owl Man stays by my side, whispering to me, keeping me in line, gently urging me on.

  I lose track of time. It feels like we’ve been down here forever. The babies made it to the base in half an hour when they were carrying me, but even bearing my weight they were able to clip along at a fair speed, whereas we’ve been reduced to a punishing, blood-drenched crawl.

  I take a right and we move down a short tunnel that opens out into a cavern. It feels vast after the tight confines of the maze. The soldiers spill into it gratefully and gather at the center, forming a defensive ring.

  “This feels like a trap,” Master Zhang mutters, squinting at several lights set in the walls, illuminating the area brightly.

  “Yeah,” Josh pants, looking worried. “But we need a break. My troops have to regroup and sort themselves out. We can use the time to take stock and figure out how many we’ve lost.”

  “That is irrelevant,” Dr. Oystein says. “We should press on. Any pause plays into their hand, not ours.”

  “Maybe,” Josh sniffs. “But this lot will crumble if we push them on too soon. It was hell coming through the tunnels. They’re not undead like you. They’re only human. They need a rest.”

  Dr. Oystein snorts impatiently, but trusts Josh’s understanding of his men and women. He says nothing more, waiting for Josh to give the word.

  The soldiers and Klanners are packed into the cramped cave, forming a dense circle around us. There’s room for all, but only just, and there wouldn’t have been if we hadn’t lost so many of our forces in the tunnels.

  The attacks cease. The mutants and babies withdraw. We hear the mutants chuckling and catcalling, blowing whistles to set our teeth on edge, but there’s no sign of them.

  Josh demands reports and his people respond quickly, listing injuries and losses. They’re spooked by what we’ve been through, but they haven’t cracked. They’ve lost friends and comrades, but they didn’t expect anything different. These are seasoned pros. They won’t give up.

  Dr. Oystein summons his Angels while the humans are settling back into shape. “I want you all to move to the front when we advance again,” he says softly. “We cannot afford to march so slowly this time. If the humans can’t match our speed, we will leave them behind and fight the final battle by ourselves.”

  “Are you counting me as one of them or–one of you?” someone asks, and I spot a grinning Reilly near the back of the pack of Angels.

  “One of them,” Dr. Oystein says coldly to the ex-soldier who has helped shape us into a fighting force to be reckoned with. Then, as Reilly blinks nervously, the doc cracks a smile. “Forgive me. I could not resist the chance to tease you. Even in our darkest moments, we must make room for a sliver of levity. You belong to us, of course, my friend. But you must keep up. We cannot make allowances for you.”

  “No prob, doc,” Reilly says with relief. “I want to be there. I wouldn’t miss this for the world, not after all the time I’ve spent with you guys.”

  “I’ll look out for you and make sure you get home safely to Ciara,” Carl says confidently. “It’ll be like when we used to take you out training, when we needed a live guinea pig to stir up the reviveds.”

  “That’s comforting,” Reilly says drily. “But if you don’t mind, I’d rather–”

  His next words are drowned out by a long, ferocious howl. All noise in the cavern ceases as everyone looks around nervously.

  “What the hell was that?” Josh barks. “Mutants? Babies?”

  “No,” Owl Man says somberly, looking genuinely worried. “Worse than that, and most unexpected.”

  As Josh stares at him, Owl Man points. We turn, and I spot a stream of people flooding into the cavern from tunnels dotted around the edges. The entrances had been blocked, so that they looked like parts of the walls. But now the obstructions have b
een removed and an army of vicious, bloodthirsty troops is flooding through. But, as Owl Man said, these aren’t the mutants or babies that we thought we’d be facing down here.

  They’re zombies.

  SIXTEEN

  It’s been a long time since I looked upon the walking dead as a genuine threat. They’ve been little more than a nuisance when I’ve been by myself or with other revitalizeds. I’ve had to be wary of them when I’ve traveled with living humans, but even then they’ve been easy enough to deal with. They’re not as sharp, fast or smart as those of us with functioning brains. I’d started to take them for granted.

  But they’re far more menacing down here. We’re trapped, the smell of hundreds of fresh brains drawing the zombies on. Nowhere to run, no way to repel them, no room to maneuver. Our weapons and expertise are of limited use. The soldiers at the edges can’t fend off their attackers. Many are converted as they fall prey to the undead swarm, and they turn on their friends and allies, adding to the chaos.

  Josh and the other commanders bellow orders. The troops do their best to obey, but the body count is mounting and it’s clear that we’re in serious trouble. Some soldiers try to flee and the group begins to fragment.

  As the zombies rip into the flesh of the living, the mutants and babies push up behind them, taking advantage of any divisions, moving into the gaps that the zombies have created, isolating small pockets of soldiers and Klanners, finishing them off viciously and efficiently.

  Lots of Angels dart to the aid of the humans. Dr. Oystein and Master Zhang try to call them back, to hold us together, but it’s turned noisy as hell and their voices are lost to the crazy din.

  Vicky Wedge is standing close by Owl Man, cringing, weeping, wringing her hands. Justin must be barking something at her through the headset that she’s wearing, because she forces her head up and starts moaning descriptions of what she’s witnessing.

  The group that I’m part of is protected from the attacks by the soldiers packed around us. Rage looks frustrated. He’s on his toes, peeking over the heads of the humans, looking for someone to fight. “Come on,” he mutters. “Come on!”

  Carl gets ready to leap to the aid of the struggling soldiers.

  “No,” Ashtat stops him. “Dr. Oystein told us to stay.”

  “But we can’t just stand by and do nothing,” he cries.

  “We’ll be doing plenty soon,” Shane says, keeping his cool. “Don’t be in such a rush. They’ll come to us. You won’t have long to wait.”

  More zombies stream into the cavern. The mutants must have rounded them up from one of the underground Tube stations, or perhaps they’ve been holding them in reserve for a day like this.

  The newcomers throw themselves into the bloody, ragged mess, biting flesh, gouging eyes, ripping out tongues, digging through skulls into brains. It’s been a long time since they got to feast like this. They’re making the most of it.

  “We must push on,” Master Zhang says.

  “And leave my people behind?” Josh barks.

  Zhang shrugs. “They’re finished. They have served their purpose, but can continue to be of value for a while longer. If we leave now, they will buy us valuable time. If we stay, we’ll gain nothing and their sacrifice will have been a waste.”

  Josh is wild-eyed. He gulps several times, trying to make up his mind.

  “Justin says that we have to do what Dr. Oystein tells us,” Vicky Wedge whimpers. “He says the success of the mission is all that matters. Losses are acceptable. He…” She pauses, grimaces, then repeats what the absent billionaire is telling her. “He says to stop acting like a child. You know what you have to do, so do it.”

  “Easy for him to say,” Josh grumbles. “He doesn’t have the blood of good men and women on his hands.” Then he sighs and looks to the doc for guidance.

  “This way,” Dr. Oystein says simply, and we push on, a small group of us, some of his Angels, Master Zhang, Owl Man, Rage and Sakarias, Josh and Reilly, Vicky Wedge, a unit of soldiers and a handful of Klanners, leaving the bulk of our forces behind to perish gruesomely at the hands of the marauding zombies.

  SEVENTEEN

  We hurry through the tunnels, able to move swiftly now that we’re not part of a major assault force. Josh discusses tactics with Dr. Oystein and Master Zhang as we run. He doesn’t think there are enough of us to ensure victory if we manage to track down Mr. Dowling.

  “He’ll have surrounded himself with scores of his best people,” Josh pants. “Maybe he’ll use another army of zombies as a shield. How are we going to break through when there are only a few dozen of us?”

  “I do not think that we will encounter such an obstacle,” Dr. Oystein says. “This is personal. Albrecht will want to face us openly, on an equal footing. He knows that the moment of destiny has arrived. It is not in his nature to stack the odds against us in an effort to cheat fate.”

  “I wish I shared your belief,” Josh says glumly.

  Dr. Oystein smiles thinly. “Trust me. I know my brother. He’ll want to defeat us, but in his own way, on his own terms.”

  Josh shakes his head and starts to ask another question. He’s cut short by Owl Man, who suddenly stops and raises a hand.

  “What is it?” Master Zhang asks, drawing to a halt beside the tall freak.

  “I thought I saw…” Owl Man murmurs.

  “… a puddy tat?” Rage smirks.

  “No,” Owl Man says seriously. “A baby with a hole in its head.”

  A mutant drops from a hidden niche in the ceiling and lashes out at one of the soldiers. Ashtat is close by. She karate-chops the mutant’s throat and he falls to the floor, choking. There are no other movements or sounds.

  Then I spot the baby peering round a corner. There’s no mistaking that hole in its skull.

  “Holy Moly,” I whisper.

  The baby’s face lights up and it steps forward. A soldier raises his rifle.

  “At ease,” Owl Man says softly but firmly. He takes a step towards the baby. Sakarias advances with him.

  “big doggy mummy,” Holy Moly squeaks. “woof woof.”

  I smile shakily. “Be careful. This doggy bites.”

  “holy moly bites too,” the baby giggles, showing its tiny fangs.

  “Tell it to–” Owl Man starts to say to me.

  “Run, Holy Moly!” I shout before Owl Man can complete his order. “Run now!”

  “No!” Owl Man roars. “Tell it to come back!”

  My lips instantly start to move. “Come–” I begin, but to my relief I see that I’m too late. The baby obeyed the instant I yelled, and took off like a startled rabbit.

  Owl Man curses and hurries after the fleeing infant. The others follow and I’m dragged along with them, smiling at my small act of rebellion, hoping it will be enough to wreck their plans, but knowing that’s a slim hope. Slimmer than an ice cube’s hope in Hell.

  EIGHTEEN

  Holy Moly doesn’t manage to shake us loose. The baby tears through the tunnels, but we keep it in our sights. Sometimes we even get close when it pauses to study some obscure outcrop of rock or other.

  I think we’re being toyed with. I know how fast the babies can run, and these tunnels are their playpen. Holy Moly could disappear within seconds if it truly wished to lose us. I’ve got a feeling we’re being led into another trap.

  I consider sharing my suspicions with Owl Man, but why bother? Apart from my friends, I don’t care about any of this lot. Let them run into a pit full of stakes if that’s what the baby has lined up. It would probably be for the best if they did. Get them all out of harm’s way nice and swiftly. I’d die too, of course, but I’ve no problem with that, not if I can take the doc and his crew down with me.

  There are occasional attacks from stray mutants or zombies, but nothing like the concentrated strikes that we had to endure on our way to the cavern. Most of our enemies seem to be massed round the doomed soldiers. Or else they’re with Mr. Dowling, waiting for us up ahead.

>   I expect Holy Moly to lead us to the clown’s base, maybe even his personal chambers. I figure that’s the sort of place where my unhinged husband will want to end this. But instead we veer away from the central part of the complex, down a series of tunnels that are new to me.

  The others are worried. They think the baby might be leading us off into the middle of nowhere.

  “Maybe it wants to protect Becky and steer her clear of the danger areas,” Owl Man says.

  “Should we abandon the chase and focus on finding Albrecht?” Master Zhang asks.

  “No,” Dr. Oystein snaps. “The baby knows where the vial is. If we can get hold of that, everything else is irrelevant. We will stick with the pursuit until we catch up with or lose sight of the child.”

  The doc’s excited. He senses victory. Owl Man looks as inscrutable as always. Hard to tell what he’s thinking. Rage is chuckling softly at some personal joke and tapping the head of an axe that is hanging by his side. Everyone else looks nervous, even the normally cool Master Zhang.

  We turn another corner and spot Holy Moly waiting for us. The baby puts a finger to its lips and makes a shushing noise. Then it starts to creep ahead.

  Dr. Oystein hurries after the baby. Owl Man reaches out to stop him. “This is an unusual situation,” he murmurs. “Are you sure you wish to proceed?”

  “What choice do we have?” Dr. Oystein replies.

  “There is always a choice,” Owl Man says.

  “No,” the doc retorts. “In this case there isn’t.”

  We follow Holy Moly round a few more bends, no longer racing to catch up, taking it slowly, letting the baby guide us. The troops are readying their weapons, wiping blood or dirt from their foreheads and cheeks, preparing for battle.

  Finally we come to a door. I spot Ivor pushing forward, looking interested—he gets a buzz when presented with a new kind of lock. But then Holy Moly jumps, grabs hold of the handle and pulls down, swinging in with the door as it opens, and Ivor sees that there’s no lock to pick. He falls back, disappointed, as the baby lets go with a giggle and trots into a large chamber. As we enter, I see that the walls are painted with blood and excrement, and decorated with links of guts and limbs, the trademark interior design of the twisted Mr. Dowling.