Thirteen Roses Book Four: Alone: A Paranormal Zombie Saga

by Cairns, Michael

  It wobbled but kept straight for a few yards. Then the balance went and it toppled over.

  It didn’t have time to hit the ground.

  The petrol exploded as Luke threw himself back. The bike was transformed into shards and chunks of metal flying all directions and he threw his hands over his face. The zombies sounded like wounded animals, an eerie moaning sound rising from those nearest the explosion.

  Amongst the debris hitting the floor he was pleased to spot a few, bloody limbs. Krystal pulled up alongside, grabbed his shoulder and heaved him to his feet. The world spun and it was all he could do for a moment to just cling to her and not fall over. It stabilised and he slung a leg carelessly over the bike.

  ‘Ready?’

  He mumbled something close to yes and they took off, powering across the tiny space between them and the horde. Krystal charged straight through the cloud of black smoke and flames. The bridge the other side of the explosion looked like a slaughter house, with pieces of zombie scattered among pools of blood.

  ‘Pretty good work.’

  He nodded and gripped the back bar tighter. The spinning had almost stopped but the smoke wasn’t helping. There was a hole through the zombies and Krystal aimed for it. A couple of them reached out as they passed, but for the most part they were more interested in finding parts of their shattered comrades to chew on. Luke swallowed and his eyes dipped for a moment. His ears were ringing and the need to vomit became a coughing fit that made the bike shake.

  ‘Stop it, I can’t bloody hold it.’

  He held his breath, trying desperately to suppress the coughing. They were past most of the zombies and safety lay seconds away. Then three huge figures appeared in the gap before them. They all had what was left of their hair down to their waists, and were covered in tattoos. The ink stood out against their pale skin and looked better than it probably ever had when they were alive.

  They opened arms the size of small trees and Krystal hauled on the handlebars. He watched in silence, having no better advice to give, until he realised they were heading straight for the edge of the bridge.

  ‘Stop, stop—’

  It was far too late. He should have prepared for this, but his mind wasn’t working quite as fast as he’d have liked. There was a chance he was tired as well. The bike struck the kerb and mounted the pavement sideways and airborne. They hit the top of the railing and flipped straight over it. He got one last look at the zombies on the bridge, staring in wonder at them as they hurtled through the air, then all he could see was the dark, soupy water coming up to meet them.

  He managed to take a breath before they struck. It was cold. It was beyond cold, sinking straight through his clothes and numbing his limbs. He tried to kick to the surface but he was working at half speed. He couldn’t open his eyes for fear of what foul sickness he’d get from the Thames, so he just kicked and kicked and hoped.

  His lungs were bursting, refusing to hold the air in any longer, and the first bubbles burst from his mouth. He pushed them out and kept his lips closed, but the next lot he couldn’t control and water flooded in. The moment it touched his tongue his control slipped away. He thrashed about, using everything he had left to drag at the water and pull himself closer to the surface. Except he didn’t know where the surface was.

  He opened his eyes and stared into the murk. He could see nothing. Then a hand reached up towards him and he grabbed at it. Krystal. She needed him. He tried to pull her up but she resisted, hauling on his hand. The water was filling his lungs and he was weakening every second. He was going to kill them both.

  Krystal kept pulling and he went deeper into the water. Only there was light below and suddenly the world righted itself as he burst out into fresh air. The water shot from him in a fit of coughing. He went straight under again, but came up quickly and took another lungful. Something was grabbing him and he struggled.

  ‘Stop, bloody hell, take it easy. Just let me help.’

  He tried to relax, but his body felt as stiff as a board as Krystal’s arm came around his neck and her body appeared beneath him. He let her pull him through the water towards one of the huge concrete islands that held up the leg of the bridge. They reached it and she took one of his hands, putting it onto the concrete.

  ‘Can you hold on?’

  He didn’t know how to answer that, so he tried and found he could. ‘Yes, I’m alright, I’ve got it.’

  She let him go and swum beside him. They clung together to the island and he looked at her through blurry eyes. ‘You saved my life.’

  ‘Not the first time, I might add.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Always been good at swimming. Not done it much in the last three years. Lucky I remember how.’

  ‘But you did more than swim.’

  ‘Yeah, well, mum always wanted me to be a lifesaver. Thought it was important. Dunno why.’

  ‘Maybe she knew.’

  ‘Knew what? That one day I’d have to save the Devil from drowning in the Thames?’ She chuckled and shook her head. ‘I doubt that very much.’ She paused. He wanted to say more but all his breath had gone. He rested his head against the concrete. It was quiet here, safe and peaceful. He could just have a sleep and—’

  ‘Stop it. Wake up, you lazy sod. You gotta find me a new bike.’

  His eyes flickered open and he nodded. ‘Yes, a new bike.’ It seemed incredibly funny and he laughed. Then he coughed and water came up that went out his nose. He coughed some more and vomited a little, but by then he was fully awake.

  ‘Can you swim, at all?’

  ‘I think so. I’ve never tried it.’

  ‘You’ve never tried it. How old are you?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I lost count after the first couple of thousand years.’

  ‘And you’ve never tried swimming. Bloody typical. Give it a go, swim over to that island.’

  He stared across the dark water to where she pointed. He could see the water rushing beneath the bridge as the tide headed out to sea. There was no way he was going to make it, none whatsoever.

  ‘I can’t do that.’

  ‘The devil can’t swim a few measly metres. I’m disappointed.’

  ‘I’m still alive and intend to stay that way. Sorry.’

  She sighed and nodded. ‘Fine, I’ll see what I can do. Always wanted to drive a boat.’

  Without another word she set off, swimming hard against the current. There was only one island between them and the edge of the river and Krystal covered it in no time. She climbed out and he watched the water stream from her in the light from the South Bank. She looked a little like one of the smaller beings in the Dome.

  He’d never bothered find out who or what they were. Something to do with one of the smaller religions, paganism maybe. Faeries or sprites or some such. A dying breed and not much use to anyone. He thought, in that moment, that Krystal was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen as she emerged from the Thames in a shower of water that lit up white. When he got back to the Dome, he would spend some time getting to know them.

  When he got back to the Dome… he’d been so desperate for that, for all the time he’d been here. But he hadn’t been here that long and already he wasn’t sure if that was what he still wanted. He’d never felt like this in the Dome. This feeling of being on the edge, of not knowing whether he’d see the sun tomorrow. That feeling was as strange as the pride he felt watching Krystal. Stupid, meaningless pride that somehow meant more than his chamber and his list.

  From his vantage point, he could see the zombies wandering this way and that along the tow path. There was nowhere safe for Krystal to climb out. She scooted along the tiny beach below the hoardings and slowly vanished from sight into the darkness.

  She wouldn’t leave him. She was going somewhere to get a boat and come back. His feet were numb. He knew they were there but he couldn’t have moved them if he wanted to. He needed to get out of the water. He gazed across the space to the bank and shook his head again.
It was suicide. He looked up. The island was solid concrete, sitting maybe four feet out of the water. He should be able to haul himself up.

  He stretched and grabbed a tiny ledge that jutted out halfway, then kicked with his legs and pulled at the same time. His feet felt like they had weights tied to them and his hand slipped off the ledge. His head went under and he came up gasping. He grabbed for the concrete again and clung on, as the cold sunk into his limbs and the water swirled carelessly past.

  Jackson

  He zipped up and stormed out of the room, leaving Harriet tangled in her trousers and glaring at him with ill-disguised lust. He slammed the door shut behind him. She needed to take the hint and stay put. She wasn’t coming out while that soldier was here. Who was he? Jackson was going to find out and it didn’t matter if he was dick-deep in one of the ladies or not. There was something wrong about him.

  He strode into reception and stopped. The ladies were gathered together near the corridor. They were waiting for the soldier. They may as well have been queuing up with signs on their chests saying slut. He growled and stomped towards them. They saw him coming and didn’t react at all. That was wrong. They should mind him.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘We’re waiting.’ The nearest said, still not looking at him.

  ‘I noticed that. Who for?’

  ‘Him.’

  Her eyes glazed over and Jackson took a deep breath, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. He didn’t hit women, not anymore. Not unless they wanted it.

  ‘You can’t.’

  She finally turned away from the corridor and stared at him. Her eyes looked drugged, the pupils dilated and hazy. She shook her head. ‘We can’t what?’

  ‘You can’t screw him.’

  ‘But that’s what he wants.’

  ‘I’m sure he does, but you can’t. We have to have diversity. If you all have children from him, what do you think will happen when your children have children?’

  They stared at him blankly and he snorted through his nose. ‘You need to all have children from different men or your grandchildren will be mutants. This isn’t about who you want in your panties, it’s about saving the human race.’

  His voice rose and by the time he finished they were paying a little more attention. He grabbed the first lady by the arm and led her away to a couch. ‘You can wait until the next lot come along.’

  He went back to the row and got the next one. She was coming with him until a sigh erupted from the row. He spun around to see the soldier coming out of the room, satisfied smile on his face. He hadn’t bothered replacing his shirt this time and Jackson saw the red hair raging across his chest.

  ‘Az?’

  The soldier smiled, more broadly this time, and Jackson caught sight of fangs that ended in sharp points. The women sighed again and Jackson threw himself at the demon. He grabbed him by the lapels and drove him against the wall. Despite being slammed into the plaster, the soldier burst out laughing.

  ‘Why are you wasting your time? They want me.’

  ‘They can’t have you. What are you doing?’

  ‘Me? Hasn’t Luke told you? No, I don’t suppose he has. Well, I’ll leave it to him to say. Let go of me.’

  The tone of his voice changed, from casual conversation to an order. Jackson almost let go. Almost. Instead he yanked him away from the wall and slammed him back. The demon’s head bashed into the plaster and his teeth snapped together. Az growled and freed himself from the dent in the wall.

  Jackson stared wide eyed as the demon lifted him off the floor and set him down a few feet away. Then Az punched him in the stomach. He folded over the punch and went hurtling back. He bounced off the opposite wall and slammed onto the floor. A couple of the ladies rushed over to help him to his feet. At least some of them recognised his authority.

  He panted, trying to find breath. His back was on fire and one of his legs had twisted as he fell. He limped towards Az, but the demon was no longer paying him any attention. He was staring at the next lady in the queue, sharing a smile. How could she not see the predator before her?

  Jackson limped close enough to talk without the ladies hearing. ‘Get out.’

  Az turned, one eyebrow rising, to look at Jackson. ‘You got up. That’s impressive. I’ll hit you harder this time.’

  ‘You can hit me as many times as you like, God will protect me.’

  Az snorted then seemed to notice the woman who’d swayed over. ‘He might at that, just to piss me off.’ He stepped closer, lowering his voice for Jackson alone. ‘The old bastard doesn’t care about you. You’re delusional, Jackson. The only thing you’ve been chosen for is to make our mutual friend’s life just a little bit harder. If I wasn’t enjoying the game so much, I’d kill you now and end it, but I haven’t been this entertained since the old wanker shut Hell.’

  He raised the other eyebrow, challenging Jackson, and he wasn’t going to back down. With a roar he slammed his fist into Az’s face and the demon was thrown onto his arse. He looked up at Jackson with wide eyes. ‘Not ba—’

  Jackson’s foot followed his fist as he kicked Az full in the face. His dodgy leg gave out and he stumbled against the wall. But the demon was on his back, blood streaming from his nose. Jackson dropped to his knees beside him, shoved apart the hands coming up to block, and drove his fists into Az’s face again and again. He felt teeth give way and cut into his fingers, but he kept going, kept piling on the hurt.

  The ladies were shouting at him and one even grabbed his shoulder. He was vaguely aware of shoving her away, but every part of him was focused on ending the evil thing lying before him. He would beat him until his brains were spilled across the floor and his ladies were safe. Every time he raised his fist, he saw a mask of blood and nothing more.

  Something stopped his fist.

  One of the demon’s hands caught his, and squeezed. The pain took a moment to sink in; his hands were already numb. But when it did, he screamed. His little finger gave way, snapping and crushed into the skin of his hand. His ring finger went next, the knuckle tearing out the top of his hand. The sight of his bone, white against the blood that coated his fists and the red of the demon’s hand, made him retch.

  Then the ladies started screaming. The sound was high-pitched and piercing and horrible and he had a split second in which he managed to yank his hand free of the demon’s grasp. As he stepped back, Az rose to his feet.

  They weren’t feet anymore. Cloven hooves ended legs that reached to Jackson’s chest and held up the true demon.

  The ladies ran screaming down the corridors and Jackson was left alone in seconds, facing Az. The demon’s face was screwed up along with his fists. ‘You really piss me off. I want you to know that.’

  Jackson didn’t see the blow, not even when it cracked the bone that ran around the side of his eye. He flew across reception, flipped straight over a table, and landed on his neck on the other side. He peered beneath the table at the beast stomping towards him and gritted his teeth. He hauled himself up the table until he was standing, swaying.

  He blinked and his eye exploded in pain. He was going to die here, beaten to death. The ladies would be defenceless and Az would take them one by one.

  This was the end of the world. Not the plague, nothing that had come before. This was it. And it was down to him. This was why God had chosen him. It wasn’t his smarts or his skills. It was because he would refuse to quit and refuse to lie down.

  He grabbed the table and lifted it off the floor. The legs folded up and, as the demon reached for it, Jackson smashed it into his face. Az stepped back and Jackson got a better hold on the table, wielding it with both hands. He slammed it edge first into Az’s nose and the demon growled, shaking his head like an impatient lion.

  ‘Stop wasting your time.’

  ‘The ladies won’t take you now, not now they know what you are.’

  ‘Do you think that matters? Do you think I care whether they’re willing? It’s more fun t
hat way, admittedly, but I can live with either.’

  Jackson roared and slammed the table into Az. This time the demon batted it aside and it flew from his hands. Az backhanded him across the face and he smashed into one of the shoulder-level partitions that divided up reception. He flipped straight over and landed on his back on another table.

  That blow had been lighter. Either the demon was tired or growing weaker. His face appeared over the partition, smiling at Jackson. His hands followed it and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. He hefted him into the air and slammed him on his side across the partition. He felt a rib crack and gasped as the air was smashed from his lungs.

  Az lifted him again and tossed him across the room. He slapped into the floor and slid through a pile of chairs, covering his face as they toppled down onto him.

  ‘I can play with you for a while, you know. There’s no reason to end the fun quite yet.’

  Az crossed the distance between them frighteningly fast. Jackson was barely on his feet before Az grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him in close. His breath smelled of iron. Jackson coughed.

  ‘If I kill you, Luke loses all hope. If I keep you alive, he could spend years trying to get back.’ He scowled. ‘I don’t intend to wait years.’ Az looked up at the ceiling, his anger becoming thoughtfulness. ‘But what’s the rush? We’ve waited three hundred years and I can do this anytime. Why not enjoy it a little while longer?’

  Az slammed his fist into Jackson’s gut and though it was far gentler than the last blow, his rib jolted and he screamed again. Az chuckled. ‘The zombies make it so interesting, too. Seph’s gonna be pissed I didn’t finish with the ladies, though.’

  His musings were brought to an abrupt end by a strident voice booming across reception.

  ‘OUT, DEMON. I CHARGE YOU TO LEAVE THIS PLACE, IN THE NAME OF OUR FATHER AND LORD.’