The creature fell straight forward, and ploughed face first into the car. He winced at the sound of its teeth shattering against the metal. It tumbled to the floor head first and Krystal buried the point of her sword in its head then yanked it out. She wiped the blade clean and sheathed it, then turned to him.
‘What?’ She asked.
He moderated his grin. ‘Good job.’
She beamed. ‘Thanks.’
She scampered back to her bike and mounted. He watched her for a moment, wondering why he felt pride. Why did he feel any of these things? She was nobody, one in billions… maybe that was it. She wasn’t one in billions any more, not even one in millions. They’d done some rough calculations and figured the entire population of the Earth to be somewhere around a few thousand.
Of those, more than half were young, innocent women looking forward to a future of enforced child birth. The rest were soldiers or leaders of the soldiers, none of whom were people he’d trust to run anything, least of all Earth. So Krystal was, in many ways, the hope for the future. He chuckled and mounted his bike.
He followed Krystal back out onto the road and they sped down the A2. He kept his focus, despite the wind whipping his jacket and the beautiful lines he found between the cars.
There was a surprising lack of destruction on the ride. There were a few buildings where electrics had gone and fires started, but nothing had spread. Alex was confident there would be more destruction in time, as gas pipes eroded or backed up. There would be explosions and fires, neither of which would be good for zombies or humans. Getting out into the country was the only sane thing to do.
He laid on the gas and pushed past Krystal then guided her up a slip road. A petrol station sat at the top and he pulled in.
They’d planned this and Krystal went straight up to the shop. She parked her bike and scampered through the electric doors. She knelt and pressed the lock open button before heading for the desk. The clerk emerged from behind some racks, reaching for her, and Luke bit his tongue.
It was more difficult than he’d expected, watching in silence and unable to do anything. But she was already moving, dashing back around the aisle and drawing her sword from its sheath. She disappeared from view and the zombie lumbered around to the front door in pursuit. There was a flash of steel and the clerk’s head, still wearing its cap, flew out of the open doors and bounced across the forecourt.
Moments later there was a clunk from the pump beside him as Krystal activated it. He stayed on his bike until she came out and stood near him, sword in both hands, rocking gently on the boles of her feet. She was a natural, just as he’d known. Where did his instincts come from? It could have been the millennia in hell, judging the sort of people who made attacking others a lifestyle choice. He certainly knew bad when he saw it.
He filled up the bike, rolled hers over, and did the same. Then they were back on the road, heading away from the main road and through a housing estate. The other side devolved into an industrial park watched over by the largest warehouse he’d ever seen. The car park ran along the back of the vast stone building where over thirty huge trucks were backed up to storage bays. He and Krystal drove around to the front and found an open door.
Luke squeezed in with his bike and Krystal followed. A small corridor led them back into a space large enough to fit a football field. Vast shelving units ran in rows all the way down the building, covered in shrink-wrapped pallets of food. He got back on his bike and they cruised down the first aisle.
Krystal opened her visor. ‘It’s like browsing at the largest supermarket in the world.’
‘Only we have no idea what we’re looking at.’ In most cases, the food was obscured by the shrink wrap, identified by a tiny white label stuck to each pallet. They neared the end of the aisle and slowed. ‘Do we need to open something and check its useful?’ she asked.
Luke nodded, checked around him, and stopped the bike. He’d expected zombies, packers and whoever else would have been working here, but the place was deserted. He didn’t believe that for a moment, but there were definitely none in the vicinity. He drew his sword and cut open the shrink wrap, exposing a wall of tins of baked beans.
Krystal sighed, climbing off her bike to run a gloved hand over the tins. ‘Do you have any idea what I’d have given for this in the last three years?’
‘That makes me sadder than anything else you’ve told me about being homeless.’
‘I didn’t think you got sad?’
‘It’s a rather annoying habit I’ve been developing. I’m really not happy about it.’
Krystal laughed, crossed the aisle, and opened another pallet. This one contained cardboard boxes filled with gravy thickener. Her sword sliced straight through some of the boxes as she cut the wrap and yellow powder streamed out onto the floor. She giggled and took another swipe, sending powder flying into the air.
Luke turned away. She should be allowed a bit of fun. He wandered around the side of the aisle and stopped dead. What was that? He waited, ears pinned back, and it came again.
‘Shush, be quiet a minute.’
Krystal stopped, heeding the tone of his voice. They stood, her with her sword half-raised until the sound came again. It sounded like laughter, only clogged and thick. There were demons who laughed like that. They didn’t really know why they were doing it, but they’d learnt it from the people they tortured in Hell and discovered very quickly it was a distinctly unpleasant sound.
He paced silently, raising his sword. His ankle ached from his desperate running to catch Krystal in St Paul’s but it stayed solid. Krystal followed, even quieter than he was. Another trait picked up on the streets, perhaps.
He tracked the sound to a door in one side of the warehouse so they sneaked across and peered in through the frosted, fire-reinforced windows. Three zombies sat in a circle on the floor around a low table. In the centre of the table was a packet of white powder with a hole dug in the top. Every now and then, one of the zombies would head butt the bag and stuff their nose or tongue in, emerging with white powder caked across their face.
‘That’s drugs.’ Krystal muttered.
Luke looked at her, eyebrow raised, and she nodded. ‘That’s coke, or speed maybe. They’re doing bloody drugs.’
She covered her mouth and he realised she was laughing. He looked back into the room and had to admit it looked funny. They were taking turns to burst out laughing in that thick, mucus-laden way after they hit the bag.
‘Should be easy to kill then. Ready?’
She nodded, sniggered, and raised her sword. He pulled the door slowly open and the smell hit him. He staggered away, clamping his hand over his mouth and nose. Krystal retched, leant over, and spat bile to the floor. It was zombie smell amplified by four days of being shut in a small room. It was worse than that though, something else mingling with the putrescent flesh.
He took a breath and moved back to the open door. That was when he saw the pile. Other zombies had been stacked up in the back corner of the room. He could make out head wounds, where something hard had been used to smash in their skulls. An arm trailed from the pile, gnaw marks clear on the skin, but still ripe with flesh.
They had killed the other zombies and stashed them here. Why? He shook his head and took a step into the room, readying his sword. The zombie facing towards them spotted him and hissed. The others stopped their strange barking and turned, growling. This needed to be fast. He took a step forwards and the zombies reacted.
His eyes widened, but not as quickly as they attacked. The nearest came off its seat and covered the gap between them before he even began to react. It slammed into him and knocked him off his feet. He landed on his elbows, biting his lip as he slammed into the floor, and blood flooded his mouth.
The zombie thrashed and writhed atop him, hands grabbing and tearing at him. Its teeth smashed together inches from his face and sweat broke out on his scalp. He tried to think logically, to approach it sensibly, but its breath crept up hi
s nose and he freaked out, slamming his knees into it and wriggling around. The zombie clung on as he panted and it was all he could do to keep it from eating his face. Again and again it slammed its mouth closed inches from his face, spraying him with filthy saliva.
He was going to die. The thought hadn’t ever occurred to him before, not once in thousands of years of life. He was going to die.
The zombie opened its mouth wide and bore down.
Jackson
Jackson sneaked into reception, taking note of the four bodies on the floor. Someone had been busy. Maybe Alex had finally grown some balls. He grinned. If he had, taking the device had been just the right thing to do. He dumped it in the drawer and headed back to the doors.
The zombies had formed their perimeter line outside. He’d need to be beyond that to make this worthwhile. He climbed back in the van and revved the engine. Stupid things didn’t even notice until he put his foot down and shot straight for them. Most staggered out the way but he got two and felt their skulls break open against the bumper. Blood flicked up onto the windscreen and he nodded righteously.
He watched in the wing mirrors as the others fell on them and started to feast. He weaved down the street. Why couldn’t the damned plague have happened on a Sunday? The city would have been clear of cars, instead of lousy with them. Had Luke even thought about how they were gonna get a bus through all this? Probably not. Bloody amateur.
He kept moving, searching for a quieter part of town. He finally found a closed alleyway and reversed in. There was just room for him to slide out the front door and down the side of the van to the back. The alley was home to a couple of bins and not a lot else. He opened the back of the van and took a step back as the stench escaped
The zombie growled at him, tugging against the restraints. He was glad they were padded. He’d thought it was over the top when he put them in, but the Chinese hadn’t liked getting kids with bruises and shit on their arms. Now it was only the padding that stopped the zombie tearing its own hands off.
He stepped closer and grinned as it tried to stand and throw itself at him. Its feet kicked futilely against the restraints. This would be fun. He stepped closer and punched it in the gut. It barely reacted, still growling and snapping its teeth. He pulled his knife from his belt and cut it across the arm. Blood ran out, thin and watery, and still the zombie showed no response.
Damn thing was an alien. Nah, aliens feel pain. Why didn’t it feel pain? He grabbed the waistband of its trousers and dragged his knife through it, pulling them off. Its dick was a shrivelled, dead thing. Still, worth a try. He didn’t want to get too close so he lashed out with the tip of the blade. It ripped open the bell end and blood sprayed out onto the floor. The zombie hesitated and their eyes met.
There was nothing in them, no sign that he’d just chopped the end off its manhood, but its face twisted, like it was trying to frown.
‘What’s that? Hurt, does it?’
The zombie growled and he thought it shook its head. He slashed again and there wasn’t much left as bits of half-rotted flesh hit the van floor. Again with the frown and again with no other response. If it didn’t respond when he chopped its dick off, it wasn’t going to respond at all. Unless…
He punched it in the face and, as its head snapped back, he hacked through its throat. Blood geysered and he leapt away, only just avoiding the spray. The sound of its growls changed, becoming thinner and pathetic. He grinned and ran his knife down the side of its face.
Now it really panicked, thrashing around inside the restraints and throwing its head from side to side. They knew what killed them. They knew what to be scared of. He lashed out and hacked its ear off. It screamed, a sound like sandpaper on metal, and he beamed, backing away until he sat on the bench opposite.
‘So you get it.’ He leant closer, speaking loudly and slowly. ‘Stop. Struggling. Or. I’ll. Put. This. Knife. Through. Your. Eye.’
It stopped moving, its dull eyes fixed on his. There was a brain in there. It had a brain and it knew what he was saying. He nodded. ‘If I let you out the restraints, can you sit still?’
No response. He laughed. ‘I’m not going to. You’re too screwed. No dick and no ear. Waste of time. But maybe I can train others.’
He nodded and smiled wider. His knife went through its eye while it was still staring at him and it went stiff and slumped in the restraints. He wiped the blade on what was left of its trousers, sheathed it and undid the restraints. The zombie went out in the alley along with all the spare bits of flesh he could kick out. He stared at the corpse for a moment, thinking only one thing. Bait.
He jumped down, grabbed the head and body, then dragged it down the side of the van. There were already zombies gathered outside the alleyway. Dumb fuckers couldn’t even get through the gap. He tossed the body out and it landed in a heap with a wet thud. The zombies fell on it and he watched and waited.
One near him looked in good shape, or as near to good shape as zombies got. He lunged, grabbed it around the arms, and dragged it straight back into the gap. Getting it down the side of the van that way was a struggle, and he had to bash it in the face a few times before it settled, but he soon had it around the back of the alley.
He hauled it up and had its hands in restraints before it went really crazy. Catching the legs took a while but he soon had it strapped up. He repeated the punishment to its head until it settled and then he sat back.
‘This is simple. I can kill you now. I want to kill you. You’re an aberration, a curse upon God’s Earth. He wants me to kill you and I do his work. But I think you can be used and God trusts me to make my own judgments. So. I’m going to take the restraints off and you’re going to sit still, or I’m going to cut your face off and drag your brains out. Understand?’
Nothing. He took a deep breath and undid one hand and then the other. The creature sat and stared at him and Jackson smiled through gritted teeth. It would work. He could train it. It would go out and kill its mates and he could sit back as they tore one another apart.
This was why God had chosen him. It was like Hen or Li had said. He was thinking big, thinking beyond the immediate future. It was what people did, when they had a world view. He nodded. He had a world view and God knew it.
He undid first one foot and then the other and they sat facing one another, man and zombie. This was the beginning of something, so much larger than—
The zombie lurched at him, teeth bared, and his hand moved before he thought about it. The knife went in its eye and the blood and liquid was warm on his hand. He snarled, opened the back door, and tossed the corpse onto the floor, spitting on it for good measure. He flicked the blood off his hand and onto the body. Damn bastard sneaky thing.
It was smart, smart enough to trick him. But not smart enough to be scared for its own life. It was, he knew, a bad combination. With another growl he leapt out and slammed the back door. He wouldn’t give up, not yet. There was potential here.
He turned on the engine and stared at the zombie trying to climb the front of his van. He didn’t want to go back to the hospital. Luke and Krystal wouldn’t be back till late and when they did they’d still chat and talk and waste time. No one wanted to make decisions.
He’d avoided thinking about the demon all week but he couldn’t avoid it any longer. They’d made a deal, of sorts. He was keeping the hostages alive, just like he’d promised, even if he hadn’t kept them in St Paul’s.
So they were in the hospital, surrounded by devices, and now Luke was going to take them out to the country. God wanted to keep them safe, and Luke was helping with that. But God wanted him, Jackson, to begin the re-population and that wasn’t happening. Maybe he should speak to Az about it. Maybe he could recharge the devices at the same time.
He put it in first and put his foot down, smiling at the crunch from beneath his wheels. Stupid bastards.
The reception area was still quiet when he sneaked in. They probably didn’t even know he’d left. He headed
up the stairs and was about to enter the private room when loud voices drew him to the main room. He poked his head in and found maybe thirty of the ladies in a gaggle, all speaking at once.
They were fine to look at but he’d be so happy if they all shut up. One pulled herself free of the press and approached him. He hadn’t bothered learning names, but she was particularly fine, hips swaying back and forth. He should have learnt hers.
‘Hi, Jackson, my name’s Harriet.’ She stuck her hand out and he wrapped it up in his.
‘Hi, Harriet. What can I do for you?’ She wanted him. Her eyes were telling him quite clearly what he could do for her.
‘We’re leaving.’
His hand fell away and his mouth opened. For the first time in his life, he didn’t have anything to say.
‘Can you tell the others please?’ She sounded like she was in a church meeting, discussing next week’s bake sale. ‘We, as a group, feel unable to remain here while Lucifer is part of this. So we are returning to the cathedral where we feel we have a better chance of accomplishing something worthwhile in the new world.’
She turned and stomped away. He watched her arse and found his thoughts turning all sorts of ways. Then what she’d just said sunk in. She was right. Why was he still here? Why was he following Luke? He was a free man but he’d let himself be suckered by the smooth tongue of the great deceiver. God must be furious with him.
He ground his teeth together and approached the group. They quietened, recognising him as the leader already. ‘I can’t tell the others, I’m coming with you. You’re right, how could I be so blind?’
Harriet stepped closer. ‘You’re coming with us?’
‘I am. Unless…’ He worked hard to keep the smile from his face. ‘You’re right about Luke. But the men in St Paul’s aren’t any better. Trust me, I know. How about we take a couple of the devices and head out on our own?’
Thirteen Roses Book Four: Alone: A Paranormal Zombie Saga Page 5