Pandemic Z | Book 3 | Pandemic Z 3

by Lawson, Hayley

  The sergeant waited another moment before turning back to Lena. “I don’t see anything. Come on. We have to go,” he told her, annoyed.

  Lena sighed. She was certain about seeing the man down the tunnel. Even Emily had seen him. “No, Dad. There’s a man down there. He was on the flight with us. He has a tablet and is controlling the zombies! I am certain of it!” she said firmly.

  Sergeant Turner looked at his daughter kindly. “I’m sorry, honey, but nothing is there. We have to get going!” he said urgently, giving her a gentle shove toward the tunnel entrance.

  Lena was too tired to fight, so she led the group away from the underground platform and back to the tunnels of London. “Emily,” she said to the flight attendant, walking quickly to blow off steam. “You saw that man, Roy, didn’t you?” Though she was confident in her own eyes and mind, she wanted to double check with Emily in case she really had imagined it.

  Emily nodded. “Yes, I’m positive I saw him,” she reported. Thinking about it made her question what she had seen. If it hadn’t been for Lena seeing him, too, she would question her sanity.

  Barry turned to the sergeant. “I don’t mean to be rude, sir, but did you actually see anyone down that tunnel?” He could tell he wasn’t telling the truth to Lena.

  The sergeant shrugged as if it was nothing. “They say the ghost of Winston Churchill still roams these tunnels. Maybe she saw him.” He didn’t want to admit he’d seen that man.

  He wanted to get the prime minister out of there as fast as possible. If they engaged with that man—and Lena wouldn’t have let it go until they had—it would have put the leader’s life in danger. All that man had to do was send a wave of zombies at them. At least this way, they had a chance to run.

  Lena couldn’t shake the thought of Roy from her mind. She was almost positive it was Roy. The scent of oranges was the biggest indicator. “I’m not crazy!” she muttered under her breath while wrestling with her thoughts.

  A low voice came from behind the traveling group. “Oh, Lena Turner. What a pleasure it is to see you again.” Roy’s unmistakable voice floated through the tunnel, amplified by the closed space.

  Lena rolled her eyes. I fucking knew it. “Hey, Roy, how is it going? Still using full names, I see,” she said, not even bothering to turn to see the orange-scented creep.

  Barry and Harrison stopped together, turning in unison to face Roy. They wouldn’t let him get away easily, not again. Roy smiled to himself, tucking the tablet under his arm and applying more orange hand cream to his cracking fingers.

  Barry gawked at the cream. “So, that’s your secret!” he said, trying not to laugh at the sight.

  Harrison shook his head. “This whole time I thought you just naturally smelled of decaying fruit,” he mocked.

  Roy sighed, sliding the cream back into his shirt pocket. “Well, Harrison Traynor, at least I am wearing clothes,” he nodded to Harrison’s naked chest.

  Harrison didn’t even flinch. “Well, I would much rather be half-naked than be you. No one wants to see that nasty, orange scented ass out in the nude,” he said.

  Roy sneered. “Enough insults, fools. I’m here to finish what I started!” he spoke louder so his voice boomed around the tunnel.

  Barry closed his hand around the pistol, though there weren’t any bullets left. “Ah, yes. Roy about that… Last time… Well, we weren’t armed. That gave you an advantage, so you could win. Even then you bloody well didn’t!” He stepped closer to Roy, removing the gun from his belt.

  Roy tutted, shaking his head. “Given you’re still alive after the last wave I sent your way, I’m going to guess your gun has no bullets, right?” he chuckled, pointing towards the empty barrel.

  Lena stepped up to join Barry and Harrison in facing Roy. The creepy man in the shabby suit gave a sly grin that stretched across his entire face. Roy pulled the tablet from under his arm and tapped at the screen.

  “Still using low priced technology?” Lena mocked. She reached behind her back, gripping the smoke grenade in her fingers. “Summoning your little cronies, I assume” she added, carefully shifting the smoke bomb between her fingers.

  Roy didn’t reply. He simply continued to tap at the screen.

  Lena glanced slightly at Barry and Harrison. “You might want to…” she whispered softly so only the other two could hear.

  Roy looked up from his tablet, smiling. “Now, Lena Turner, it’s time for you to suffer. Oh, I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.”

  Lena pulled the pin from the smoke grenade, throwing it in an arc so it landed perfectly at Roy’s feet. “RUN!” she screamed as smoke filled the tunnel.

  Barry, Harrison, and Lena sprinted down the tunnel with the prime minister, Sergeant Turner, and Emily behind them. Emily’s ankle had bruised in the earlier fall, but she could put weight on it now. They ran hard, not daring to look back at the chaos behind them. Screams and groans echoed around the hollow caves mixed in with the strange scent of oranges.

  Lena slowed her pace, hoping to find a way out of the closed spaces. She hated being so far underground, especially with the threat of zombies coming behind them.

  Mrs. Owens pulled them to the side of the tunnel, ducking into a crudely hacked opening. Old barrels and dusty newspapers littered the even smaller space, and it was a squeeze to fit all six of them in the cubby.

  “This is the Merchant Pub. I came here once by accident. Best brew in the city, but that’s another story for another time,” Mrs. Owens whispered hastily, pulling a barrel over to the wall.

  She hopped onto the barrel with ease and pulled on a rope ladder hanging from the ceiling where an uneven slab of wood was shoved back into place. The prime minister didn’t hesitate climbing up the ladder, easily stepping from one wobbly rung to the next. She pushed the slab slightly, the creaking wood filling the small alcove with noise.

  Lena was impressed by the prime minister’s performance. With one hand, Mrs. Owens pushed the wooden slab from the opening and then shuffled up and onto the floor above. She stuck her head over the edge of the opening, beckoning the rest of them up the ladder.

  “It’s not that bad! Come on!” she urged, reaching her hand down.

  Lena pushed the others towards the ladder. She’d seen too many adventure movies to be certain the rope ladder would hold their weight. Emily stepped up to the barrel, and Harrison helped to shove her up before she carefully mounted the ladder. The rope ladder swayed and moved as Emily slowly hoisted herself up the rungs. Mrs. Owens reached for the flight attendant, pulling her through the opening.

  Barry gulped, looking at the dangerous rope contraption. “I was hoping there would be… you know… stairs?” He motioned to the ladder uneasily. He started this crazy adventure as a nerdy guy who avoided danger and risk. Now, he’d done things he never would have imagined possible for him. Still, the old him continued to make an appearance from time to time.

  Harrison easily sprinted up the ladder, sliding through the opening with no help. His werewolf strength helped him move with ease up the ropes. Sergeant Turner followed just as quickly. He was grateful for his werewolf genes, but he was also grateful for the constant obstacle course training the Special Forces mandated every officer take no matter how old they were.

  Lena looked at Barry. She could see his apprehension. She had learned he wasn’t good at hiding his emotions. “Harrison and my dad both weigh more than you. The ladder held them fine. Emily was injured earlier, and she climbed just fine, too. Trust me. You’ll make it up without an issue. I’ll be behind you every step,” she said, comforting him.

  He gulped, climbing onto the barrel. He stared over his shoulder towards Lena. He hoped she would be behind him even on the shaky ladder. Lena hopped onto the barrel easily, squeezing beside Barry.

  Barry hesitantly took the rope in his hands.

  Lena sighed. “Barry, get moving. The quicker you move, the quicker I can buy you a fucking beer,” she said, pushing him onto the bottom
rung.

  Barry laughed nervously. “I don’t drink beer, remember?” he said down to her, moving his foot off the rung and onto the next. Using all his strength he pulled himself up another rung.

  Lena followed closely. “Okay, well then, I’ll buy you your Smirnoff peach sparkling drink with a fancy umbrella and whatever else you want,” she told him. She knew he was easily distracted, and he’d move faster and with more confidence if she kept him talking.

  Barry pulled himself up another rung. “And some Monster Munch, please. I love those things,” he muttered, not wanting to look down at Lena.

  Lena chuckled. “I’ll buy you an entire lorry full of Monster Munch my friend. I’ll get drunk, and you can get a sour tongue off those crunchy little bastards,” she replied, helping him balance on the rungs.

  Barry looked up at the opening. Mrs. Owens crouched down beside the opening. Harrison and the sergeant stood close by, ready to pull Barry out of the hole.

  “Grab my hands, Barry!” the prime minister said, offering her hands to him.

  Barry looked at her nervously. He took his hands off the rope, stretching out for the prime minister. He’d never imagined he would be in a position where she would have to save him. She gripped him tightly, helping him pull the rest of his body off the ladder and onto the floor above. Harrison and the sergeant pulled him further away from the opening, so Barry could right himself without risking falling down the hole.

  Barry grinned, rolling over on the floor. “Wow, thanks!” he told the prime minister. “I didn’t even vote for you, but I definitely should have,” he added, his anxiety causing him to stick his foot in his mouth.

  Lena easily pulled herself out the opening, joining the rest of them in the small hallway. Mrs. Owens replaced the jagged slab before guiding them towards a door. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  A hush fell over the rowdy pub. Customers stared at the sight of the prime minister emerging through the secret door hidden in the wall by the dartboard. Two old men with flowing grey beards held up their pint glasses, clinking them together before drinking.

  A young man sat alone, sipping at his pint and holding a picture of a woman and some children. The atmosphere was depressing. The customers drank to the end of the world, not as a way to celebrate, relax, or just have fun. They mourned their old lives.

  The bartender watched them as they entered the pub. He snuck a grin to himself as he nodded towards the prime minister and the others. Lena headed for the bar, pulling her battered wallet from her pants. The tired group made their way through the pub, sitting down at an empty table close to a window.

  “Here,” Lena told Barry, returning from the bar and pushing a tall glass across the table. She lowered herself into the seat beside him. “It’s that peach drink you like,” she said, giving him a sweet and proud smile. He’d overcome so much and had grown a lot in such a small timeframe. “Oh, and here,” she added, pushing an enormous packet of Monster Munch across the table towards him. “You deserve it.”

  She rested her hand on top of his, hoping he understood just how proud she truly was.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A swarm of grey figures made their way down the one-way street, chasing Harry and his friends with great speed. Harry pedaled as hard as he could, and Isabella gripped onto him tightly, hoping she wouldn’t get knocked off the back.

  Oliver pedaled close to Harry. The morning breeze whipped through his hair and sent a nervous chill down his spine. George struggled to keep up, but he gave it his best.

  Oliver didn’t dare look back. He could hear the zombies following behind them, and he breathed heavily as a burning sensation settled into his lungs. He shot a glance at Harry. His friend’s hair flowed wildly behind him, drying in the slightly damp breeze. Isabella smiled at him, though he could tell it was forced. She was nervous about the zombies enclosing around them.

  George felt a weight on the back of his bike. “Get off!” he yelled at the zombies behind him. He didn’t turn his head from the one-way street ahead of him, worried he’d lose his balance if he did.

  Snarls and groans echoed right behind him. He scoffed to himself, rolling his eyes. Knowing he needed to find more strength within himself, he bore down and pedaled his legs faster to catch up with Harry and Oliver.

  Harry and Oliver could see George struggling to keep up. Harry tried to call over to him, but the wind whipped around and created a barrier of noise around him.

  “GEORGE!” he yelled again with no response. “George!” his voice had grown tired from yelling so much. It seemed useless.

  Oliver slowed down a little and reached over to tap George in the arm. He looked up, quickly turning his head to face Oliver. The zombies following them still occupied his mind.

  “We need to get off this road and hide!” George called out.

  At the close range, Oliver heard his friend. He nodded. “We need to fake them out somehow.”

  “Yes! Tell Harry. We need to find a way off this road—now. I don’t know how much longer I can go this fast, and they’re faster than they should be!”

  Oliver pedaled forward and told Harry what George had said. “I think he’s about had it,” Oliver said. “He doesn’t look good and stopping to rest isn’t an option unless we get somewhere safe.”

  Harry nodded. “I think I have a plan. There is a house not too far from here with a huge, fenced-in yard. The privacy fence wraps around the house and connects on the side of the garage. Here’s what we’ll do…”

  Oliver listened to Harry’s plan and quickly fell back to tell George, who looked even worse than before. Now with a plan in place, however, George’s behavior perked up. He seemed more motivated and once again pedaled harder.

  Harry led the way to the large house he told Oliver about. It would take effort, but if everyone pulled off their part, it would work.

  He and Oliver fell back, allowing George to pedal ahead. When George was next to him, Harry gave him quick directions. “At the end of this street, turn left. It’s the third house on the right. They leave the car garage door unlocked. They’re friends of my family, and they’re never home. Oliver told you the rest?”

  George nodded. “I can do this.”

  Without another word, George pedaled ahead. The group of zombies behind them still ran full force. Undead or not, it disturbed them how long they could run without tiring even the slightest.

  George rounded the corner of the street and counted off the houses. Just like George had said, the driveway was vacant, and it looked like no one was home. That made him feel better about what they planned to do.

  He parked his bike next to the tall fence, hopped off, unlocked the outside latch of the fence’s gate, and quickly made his way over to the large, two-car garage door, pulling up on the handle. It was heavier than he’d imagined, but it finally gave and opened. As soon as he got it all the way open, he ran inside and opened the back door wide. He wasn’t entirely sure the plan would work, but he certainly hoped so.

  George grabbed a padlock and key that hung on the wall next to the back door, and he then made his way into the backyard. He ran around to the tall gate in the fence and unlocked the inside latch, waiting for his sign.

  It didn’t take long before he heard Harry, Isabella, and Oliver’s approach. He took a deep breath, readying himself. He pulled the gate open just far enough he could see out.

  “Get ready, George!” Harry shouted.

  Harry stayed on his bike, riding through the garage with Isabella still on the back. Oliver was right behind him, and the zombies ran full speed directly behind them. George’s eyes widened as he saw just how close they’d allowed the zombies to get to them in order to let him get so far ahead.

  Within only a few short moments, Harry rounded the corner of the house, signaling George was up.

  As soon as the final zombie was in the garage, he rushed out of the gate. He watched as the last zombie ran through the back door, and he rushed forward and slammed
the door shut and locked it.

  He turned and ran full speed back out of the garage where Isabella was waiting to help him close the large front garage door.

  “George!” Harry called out.

  George tossed the padlock and key over to Harry, who had just reached over to lock the inside latch. He caught the padlock and took the key out of the bottom before locking the outside latch and stepping back.

  “I can’t believe it,” George said as he and Isabella finished closing the large door. “We did it. It worked.”

  Oliver strode over and clapped his friend on the back. “You did awesome, man. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  George smiled. “Thank you.”

  “We all make a good team. Now, let’s get out of here before they figure out how to get free,” Harry said.

  The group once again climbed on their bikes. Harry led the way, each of them pedaling at a calm, steady pace that didn’t overwork their bodies. They needed something to eat and drink. Each of them was famished after all the adrenaline rushes and activity. They weren’t sure how much more excitement they could handle.

  Harry turned down another street, and the group came to an immediate stop. Each of them swallowed hard as a line of zombies stretching across the road stared at them hungrily. None of the undead moved.

  “That’s not normal. They see us, and they’re not moving,” George said.

  Oliver shook his head. “I’m convinced. They’re definitely being controlled.”

  One of the zombies took a single step forward and craned his neck to the side as he looked at Oliver. Its mouth was slightly open, and saliva dribbled out. He stared with his blackened eyes, empty and aching for fresh meat. Oliver stared back. The zombie didn’t scare him at this point. He’d seen countless flesh-eating monsters at this point. Fear would get them nowhere. Only plans.

  “Fucking hell. Not again!” George yelped, yanking his handlebars away from the zombie crowd, pedaling away quickly.

  The lead zombie now focused on George, dragging his feet as it walked forward after him. The remaining zombies trudged behind the first, following behind him closing in on George. George squealed like a pig as he pushed his legs, continually picking up speed.