The pug fit perfectly under his arm as Sean made his way towards the enemy. As he approached, two more followed the first out from between two houses. Cornelius barked at the undead while Sean rushed forward and stabbed the knife into the zombie’s fleshy neck.
He heard the little girl scream, but he couldn’t let himself worry about that. What she’d experience would be much worse if he didn’t do what needed to be done. He pulled the knife free, and the zombie stumbled a step. He used its confusion to stab it into the monster’s spine, dropping it to the ground.
Without hesitation, and with Cornelius still tucked away under his arm, Sean charged toward the next one. One by one, the zombies fell. Cornelius barked as Sean stabbed, soon the undead puppets were nothing more than a pile of flesh on the pavement.
Sean smiled at Cornelius. “Good job there, buddy!” he said, commending his partner in crime.
The small dog barked happily at Sean. He stuck his head into the air as Sean made his way down the street.
When he finally made his way over to the father and daughter, she smiled brightly up at the dog. The father, however, wore a grim expression. There was a look in the man’s eyes Sean had seen before. He was grateful to be alive, but he regretted the things he’d seen. Sean imagined that regret was even worse knowing his daughter had been right there with him.
Sean cleared his throat and looked the happy little girl over. She seemed healthy enough, though that would change quickly if they didn’t get inside. He heard the engines of the Rovers as they parked not far away.
The little girl wore a bright pink tutu with a rainbow-patterned top. She rushed forward in fuzzy pink slippers, hugging the pug tightly as Sean wordlessly handed him over to her.
“Cornewius! We’ve been looking all over for you!” Her tiara slipped over her face as she continued to hug the dog.
Sean smiled. It warmed his heart to see the dog returned to his family.
The father cleared his throat and nodded. “Thank you for returning our precious pug! Not to mention…” His words cut off, but Sean knew exactly what the man thanked him for. Killing those beasts and not forcing him to do it in front of his daughter.
Sean nodded. “Don’t mention it. It was my pleasure.” He paused as he heard Nathan quietly—though he could hear his impatience—remind Sean to hurry. “As you can see, the streets aren’t safe. You both should get back inside. The faster the better,” he informed them.
The father nodded his thanks again and took the dog from his daughter. “We’re going to run the rest of the way home, okay?”
“They’re attracted to noise,” Sean said. “Try to stay as quiet as possible, and they might not notice you. If you can, board up your windows. A drill will be quieter than a hammer.”
“Thank you again,” the man said. “Please stay safe.”
Without another word, he grabbed his daughter’s hand with one hand while holding the pug against his chest with the other before running the opposite way they’d come. Number 19 wasn’t terribly far, and Sean was confident they’d make it safely.
The pug took one last, longing look at Sean over the man’s shoulder as they ran. Sean rejoined Ryan and Nathan. The zombies on the other end of the road weren’t far away, but they had time to figure out the first part of their next step.
“Who’s my ride?” Sean asked sheepishly.
Ryan chuckled. “I got ya—this time.” He grinned. “I remember the way to the dealership from yesterday. At least my Land Rover is better than your little Renault.”
Nathan nervously cleared his throat. “You’re shitty little Swiss-made car is probably Swiss cheese by now.”
Sean could not believe Nathan’s stupidity. “Renault is a French company mate, not a Swiss one,” he corrected.
Nathan grunted. He hated losing, and he was eager to get back on the road.
Sean sniggered, wondering how his little family car really had held up back at Cartwright Lane. There was no time to wonder as they climbed into the remaining two Land Rovers and returned on their long, winding route to save the queen.
Chapter Eight
There stood the black door Lena was so familiar with. She looked nervously at her father, wondering if it was a good idea to break inside as werewolves or as members of the Special Forces.
Leaping over the low wall, Sergeant Terry Turner slowly turned into his human form. His massive, hairy werewolf form slipped almost fluidly into his aged, pale, human self. Strategically placing himself behind a bush, he gestured at Hairy to get him some clothes. He wanted to storm 10 Downing Street, but he didn’t want to do it while exposing his equipment.
Lena knew she had to turn back to her human form, but for her, it was more difficult. She grabbed some clothes from Hairy and leaped over the wall on the other side of the door. As quickly as she could, she transformed back into her human form, pulling an old t-shirt over her head as she did. In a flash, she dressed and waited for her father to catch up.
“How the hell did you manage that?” he spluttered, struggling to get his legs through his pants.
Lena shrugged. Her years in the army had helped her become faster at most everything. “It’s a woman thing!” She grinned, flashing her teeth at him.
Sergeant Turner grunted, joining Lena beside the black front door. “Are you ready?” he asked, slightly afraid.
“Sort of,” she replied. She thought of the weapons in the back of the Land Rover. “We need the chipmunk teeth,” she whispered so no one else could hear.
Frantically looking around, Lena tried to find Barry and Emily. She couldn’t see either of them. The Land Rover sat where they had left it, but there was no sign of them. She cursed to herself, knowing they were losing time.
Sergeant Turner inhaled. He could feel the rough hairs of his beard tickle his lips as he breathed. His facial hair grew at an irritatingly fast pace. He ignored his hair problems and stood ready beside his daughter. They would win.
The werewolves stood menacingly outside the windows, staring in the blackened one-way glass. Anyone who might be inside waiting could see out, but the werewolves could only see their own reflections. The team stared at the glass, breathing heavily and ready to pounce. They watched the sergeant and Lena closely, waiting for the signal to charge.
Lena readied her gun and reached for the golden door handle. The polished metal stood out against the black door and shined even with the dull, drizzly day. She gripped it, feeling the smoothness in her hands. She summoned all her courage forward and twisted the door handle. She stepped back and gently eased it open with her foot, both hands on her gun and ready for the worst.
Sergeant Turner carefully stepped inside just behind Lena. He’d expected zombies in the lobby and H.I.V.E. members with powerful weapons. He expected there to be a booby trap. He gently closed the door behind him as he looked across the lobby he had so often seen. The last person he expected to see standing there was Joel Pearson.
He blinked several times. “Joel?” he asked, bewildered.
Lena had forgotten about Joel, who had told her about the zombies. He’d warned her that the zombies would bite and their virus was transmitted through saliva. Joel smiled at her. He had a warm, gentle sort of smile that encouraged even the most frightened of people. Lena had worked with him for years. He was the man who had recruited her from the EJG to the Special Forces.
“Hello!” Joel gasped. “I am so thankful you’re here! They have… They have her…” He breathed heavily as if he had been in a chase.
It relieved Lena to see him. “Joel, calm down.” She tried to calm him quickly, not wanting their position compromised. “Come with us,” she said, recalling the map of hallways in the building.
Sergeant Turner nodded, agreeing with Lena. They weren’t safe out in the open, and they needed to move. “We need to get her,” he reached out for Joel.
He was relieved to see his trusted friend. He had thought he was a snitch all along, but there he was. He was right in front of the
m in his torn-up, dirty suit that smelled of zombie bile. His eyes were tired, and there was a small bruise on his chiseled chin.
Joel Pearson sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He slowed his breathing and gathered his wits. “I panicked.” He smoothed his shirt down, then gestured with his hand, hoping Lena and the sergeant would follow him.
Instead of following, as Joel had intended, the sergeant rushed to the stairs. He knew the briefing room was at the top of the stairs, and with a bit of luck, no one would be there. “We can use the room at the top of the stairs,” he said, putting his foot on the bottom step.
“Wait!” Joel hissed. “The upstairs is filled with those nasty members of that silly company. What are they called?” He made a confused face.
“They’re H.I.V.E. members. Don’t you remember?” She paused. “The big drug company run by Asher Brannick!”
Joel nodded. “I think I heard about that on the news…” he said, scratching his head.
Sergeant Turner stood back in the lobby. He didn’t enjoy being out in the open. Anyone working for H.I.V.E. could hide anywhere, and it made him feel vulnerable. “Yeah, well, anything you heard there was probably tainted. The H.I.V.E. has control of the media,” he told his friend.
Joel nodded and shuffled his feet. “Do you know where the prime minister is?”
That wasn’t what Lena had hoped to hear. She shook her head, staring up at the high ceiling. “That’s why we’re here. We hoped she was being held here. Judging by your tone, I’m guessing you don’t have any idea either,” she said, deflated. Everything they’d thought must have been wrong. “How did you get here?”
“Through the front door,” he joked, smiling. “I did the same thing as you, except I didn’t have a gang of hairy werewolves with me.”
Sergeant Turner sniggered. “That was unplanned for us, too,” he said.
Lena got worried. Now that they had no idea where the prime minister was, the atmosphere had become tense. They needed to know what to do next. “We planned to meet you at the office,” she said, “but then we got news of Mrs. Owens all caught up.” She sighed. “She’s our priority.”
“Don’t they have the queen, too?” Joel added, stroking his chin. He cleared his throat in his usual, peculiar way.
“Where do you think the prime minister is?” Lena asked.
Joel sniffed. “Mrs. Owens,” he corrected. “We, as members of the United Kingdom Special Forces, should refer to our boss by her name.” He paused, turning his attention to Lena. “She told us to call her Mrs. Owens after all. I think it’s only polite to do so.”
Lena’s brows furrowed. She was taken aback by Joel’s words. He was right, of course, but she hadn’t expected him to get so upset over something so trivial in the position they were all in. “You’re right, Joel…” she said, hoping to avoid a petty fight.
The clock in the lobby struck the hour, and Lena saw an odd smile cross Joel’s face. She wondered why, but she let it go as she looked around the room. Something felt off, and she wanted to get a plan together quickly. Standing around wasn’t her style, and in a dangerous situation, it was the worst idea possible.
“It’s not a problem,” Joel rushed to say. “I just felt weird. We’re in her home, trying to find the woman we swore to protect.” He hung his head, biting his lip the way he used to do when he was sad. “We were meant to look after her, and then we went and fucked up…”
Sergeant Turner’s expression bordered on irritation. He disagreed with his friend. “Now look here, sunshine!” he boomed as loudly as he dared.
“Sunshine was the name of the first zombie on the plane,” Lena interrupted. The mention of the nickname made the memories of the flight, Adele, and the brave Captain Petrus come back. “Sorry… just reminded me of the flight,” she added.
Lena forced her mouth shut. She didn’t want to bring Barry into it. She didn’t even want to mention he existed. She had an uneasy feeling deep in her stomach like they were walking right into a trap.
She looked at Joel. The caring man stood his usual way, spoke his usual way, and shifted his feet in the exact same way he always did. Still, even with all his normal mannerisms, he just seemed different. Lena felt uneasy about the whole situation. She just wanted to find the prime minister and get out of 10 Downing Street as soon as possible.
***
Across the street, far from the reaches of the building, Barry and Emily crouched behind the Land Rover. They watched eagerly as the werewolves paced. They were hungry for action and standing around outside had agitated them. Barry knew he had to get inside. They had the weapons, and the rest of the team would need them.
“Emily,” Barry whispered, giving a gentle nudge to the kind flight attendant.
The flight attendant stared at Barry. The peach goodness from the Hamster energy drink flowed freely through her veins, keeping her awake—a little more than she had been.
“We need to get inside!” he told her.
Emily nodded before reaching for one of the duffel bags. “I know that,” she told him quietly, “but where do we go?”
Barry searched the street. He’d seen a documentary about Downing Street, and he racked his tired brain trying to remember what he’d learned. He remembered the cute girl who had sat next to him. It seemed so long ago, before he had left public school, before he had run away to London.
“Barry?” she asked, nudging him. “We have to be quick.”
Barry raised his eyes. “Oh, right,” he said, biting his lip. “I remember a documentary I saw once about 10 Downing Street.”
“Great, but we need more information that just that,” she told him urgently.
Barry nodded. “I sat next to a pretty girl at school, and her name was Emma. Beautiful girl. Broke my damn heart.” He spoke quietly as he continued to think.
Emily tapped lightly on the duffel bag. “That won’t help us break into the prime minister’s place.”
“I know,” he said. “I remember the teacher made us write an essay on something we liked about the stupid film.”
Emily looked at Barry with exasperation. She knew his ramblings would lead somewhere, but it was at a snail’s pace—something they couldn’t exactly afford right then.
Barry thought hard. “I wanted to do mine on the different prime ministers and how they treated the building. I wanted to talk about Winston Churchill and how he would run the office from his bed or the bathtub.” He paused. “He basically won the bloody second world war naked in the tub.” He chuckled.
Emily giggled with Barry. “You’re right.”
Barry furrowed his brow. “My teacher didn’t like that for some reason. He hated Churchill.” He paused again, inhaling deeply. “Oh, hang on…” he said, remembering the essay he’d written.
Emily almost jumped with glee. “Yes? What is it?”
Barry straightened his back. “I got it!” he exclaimed happily. “I ended up writing my essay on the outrageous number of doors the bloody building has. I was so pissed off at my teacher that I wanted to write a boring essay for him to read.”
“Doors?” she questioned. She shrugged, knowing it could come in handy with what they wanted and needed to do. “That’s a good start! What about it?”
Barry hauled the duffel over his shoulder. “The servant’s entrance! Well, it’s just the service entrance now, but it was once for the servants that…” He stopped mid-sentence. “I’m wasting time. Let’s go.” He crept out from behind the cover of the Land Rover.
***
A loud banging came from the door, and Sergeant Turner jumped a little at the noise.
BANG. It sounded out again.
Joel stared at the door, his hand in his pocket. He looked at Lena and the Sergeant, then back to the door.
BANG.
Lena stood with her body poised to strike. She was ready to explode into werewolf form if needed. She would do anything to protect her father and friends. As she thought of them, she wondered if they were still
waiting outside. She wondered if they were okay. Surely, they’d heard the banging.
BANG.
The noise came again, knocking dust off the hinges. The tired door crashed to the floor, and the heavy wood cracked on the tiled. A large, hunched-over werewolf filled the doorway, huffing and growling as he stood there. Lena knew instantly that it was Harrison.
“Harrison,” she hissed, knowing his presence meant something was wrong.
She felt like she should have known Harrison would get impatient while waiting around for an order. The security guard was more of the “go-getter” kind than the “stand and receive orders” kind.
Sergeant Turner sighed. Had there been a reason to keep their cover, Harrison would have blown it with all the noise he’d just made.
Lena threw a glance at Joel. The Special Forces leader had turned whiter than a sheet, and he gasped as he struggled to suck in air. She could see his hand moving nervously in his pocket, but she couldn’t tell what he was fidgeting with. Keys, she imagined—something to clutch onto to feel safer while looking at the werewolf.
The werewolf let out a painful howl as he staggered forward, swaying as if he was drunk. He fell forward, and Joel was right in his path. The frightened man stood, looking up at the werewolf.
“JOEL!” Lena called out, dashing to his side.
She pushed her friend to the floor, rolling away from the collapsing werewolf as she did. Another man then appeared behind Sergeant Turner. The older man had a bushy grey mustache and a tight police officer’s uniform stretched across his enormous stomach. Before Lena had a chance to say even a single word, the man rushed forward and plunged a syringe in the sergeant’s arm. Her eyes widened as she watched a brightly colored liquid disappear into her father. Her lips parted, an angry and horrified scream caught in her throat. Her father didn’t let out a single noise as his eyes rolled back, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.
As Lena moved to stand, planning to charge the bastard who’d drugged her father, Joel pulled Lena closer. She struggled against him, but it was over before she could make a solid move. She felt a sharp stab as he pushed a syringe needle into her arm. Realization hit her only a moment before the extreme fatigue set in. She turned her head enough that she could see into Joel’s eyes. She stared at him with utter confusion.
Pandemic Z | Book 3 | Pandemic Z 3 Page 7