As the fridge came crashing down, it exploded like a bomb. The door flew off, flattening two zombies. The contents of the fridge bounced out, causing two others to trip up. And the fridge itself ploughed on, sending zombies flying like skittles.
For a moment, silence settled over the kitchen like a shroud.
Then, slowly, with the twitch of a head and the stretching of an arm, the zombies rose from the destruction.
‘It’s like there’s someone controlling them or something,’ muttered Alex. ‘They just won’t give up!’
‘That’s it!’ yelled Inchy. ‘Someone’s controlling them! Adonis! There’s no other explanation! Listen, guys –!’
But before Inchy had a chance to finish, a zombie wearing an oversized dusty grey wig loomed out from behind some shelves and grabbed hold of him. Alex and Spit leapt forward and clung on to Inchy’s legs, but they weren’t quick enough. The remaining zombies had seized him too.
Thrashing desperately, Inchy felt himself being torn away from his friends. It was like he was in a tug of war – but as the rope. Clammy hands pawed at him and tugged at his clothes and face. One of his crutches snapped with a splintering crunch. He screamed, but it was useless – the zombies had him. He was about to be dragged to a sticky death. A hideous zombie face loomed closer and closer, as if it was about to bite his nose off…
And then it exploded, sliced in two by what looked like a metal spatula. As Inchy watched, amazed, the remaining zombies holding him were torn apart, ripped to shreds by a lightning‐fast blur.
As the zombies fell back, the blur slowed down until it became the figure of a thin old man wearing ripped pyjamas, with a red bandana tied around his forehead. He was clutching a ladle in one hand and a baking tray in the other.
Inchy stared. ‘You!’
‘I heard ze noises and here I am. Up you get, yes?’
Mr Kowalski pulled Inchy to his feet. ‘You ver vondering vere I had gone?’
As Inchy opened his mouth to reply, a zombie reared up behind Mr Kowalski. A huge cleaver gleamed in the light…
Without even looking, Mr Kowalski spun round and sliced the zombie’s head off with the baking tray. The head landed with a dull thump some way off, a look of surprise on its cold grey features.
‘I vill explain later,’ said Mr Kowalski. ‘First ve must be finishing off ze zombies, yes? Ve haven’t got much time!’
The rest of the gang dashed forward.
‘Do you know how to defeat them?’ asked Cherry breathlessly.
‘Simple.’ Mr Kowalski eyed each of the team in turn. ‘You heff to chop zem into teeny tiny pieces!’
House grinned widely. ‘Of course! I remember reading about it in my Guardian Angel manual. Cutting their heads off works best.’
‘Yes!’ agreed Mr Kowalski, nodding vigorously. ‘Off vis ze heads!’ And he sprinted towards the zombies, yelling a blood‐curdling battle cry.
‘Cool!’ said House. ‘Now I can use my sliding tackle again!’ With that, he charged forward, slid low and smacked into an unfortunate zombie hard and fast. The monster flew into the air, its legs coming free from its body and shooting across the kitchen in opposite directions.
‘Just be glad that wasn’t you yesterday,’ said Spit to Inchy.
‘Oh, I am.’
As House and Mr Kowalski took on the zombies hand to hand, Inchy prowled the edge of the kitchen, hurling missiles at any that tried to escape. He was aiming at their faces, and one zombie had its head knocked clean off by a huge tin of tomatoes.
‘Duck!’ yelled Alex as the head zoomed towards Cherry. It dropped at her feet.
‘If I was the screaming type,’ said Cherry, looking down at the rather grisly sight, ‘I would probably scream about now. But as I’m not…’
With a deft flick of her left foot, Cherry chipped the head high up into the air. It hung there just long enough for its one remaining eye to plop out and its mouth to let out a small moan. Then Cherry leapt backwards and executed a perfect overhead kick, bringing her right foot round in an arc to connect with the head.
With a horrid empty thud, like someone hitting a large coconut with a wooden mallet, the head shot off across the kitchen. It went straight through the stomach of one zombie and knocked the head off the one behind it, before coming to rest in a frying pan.
Now Alex and Spit crashed into the melee. For once they seemed to be working together, grabbing hold of a zombie’s arms and tugging in opposite directions, like pulling a Christmas cracker, until the monster split into two down the middle.
Finally, House dispatched the last of the zombies with a hefty punch. Its head landed with a splat in one of the cooking pots, narrowly missing covering House from head to toe in the revolting gunk.
‘Vell,’ said Mr Kowalski, ‘ve have von ze battle but not ze war.’
Inchy turned to him, a measuring jug hanging limply from his hand. ‘You saved us,’ he said. ‘But what happened to you? Where did you go? I came to look for you, but you were gone.’
Mr Kowalski smiled. ‘You remember ven I showed you zat cotton vool in my headphones, yes?’
Inchy nodded, as the rest of the gang gathered round.
‘Ze nurses, zey found out vot I voz doing, so I vent on ze run!’ Mr Kowalski’s eyes shone.
‘But where to?’ asked Cherry.
‘Here in ze hospital!’ said Mr Kowalski. ‘I have been hiding in ze old operating theatres, in ze basement, here in ze kitchen. It voz just like old times for me – lying low and spying on ze enemy. I’ve never felt so alive!’
‘You were right,’ said Inchy. ‘About this hospital, I mean. Something evil’s at work here.’
‘And I know vot it is,’ said Mr Kowalski.
‘Adonis,’ said Inchy. ‘He’s controlling the zombies.’
Mr Kowalski nodded. ‘Exactly.’
Suddenly, an electronic crackle buzzed through the air like an angry wasp. Then there was a howl of feedback as the hospital tannoy system burst into life. Then a laugh. A deep, rumbling sickly‐sweet laugh that rolled down the corridors like thunder.
‘Impressive, very impressive,’ said a voice they all recognized. Adonis. ‘I must say, I was rather taken by surprise by your antics. Yes, very impressive. Particularly the hero‐to‐the‐rescue scene at the end. I almost cried. Almost.’
He paused. ‘Yes, “the end”. Which is where you all are now, I’m afraid.’ Adonis laughed again, but this time it was an insane laugh, high‐pitched and shrill. ‘During my time in this revolting little hospital, all you pathetic patients have been under the impression that I cared about you. That I wanted to bring you comfort and peace and healing. But you were wrong. Oh, how terribly, deliciously wrong!
‘You see,’ he continued, ‘I’m not what you would exactly call your average DJ. After all, how many normal DJs know how to use a radio show to hypnotize people into digging up an army of the dead, hmm? And now my army is complete I have no more need of you. You will be the first victims of my brilliant scheme.’
Adonis laughed again. Then spoke a command in a booming voice. ‘Now, awake, my children! Awake!’
A rumbling sound rippled through the air, thumping like a giant disembodied heartbeat. From the other side of the kitchen wall, a hundred voices moaned in response.
‘You know that storeroom where it was snowing?’ said Spit. ‘The one very full of dead people?’
The gang nodded dumbly.
‘I think it’s about to become very empty.’
14
Radio Ga‐Ga
‘We’ve got to stop this!’
‘And the prize for stating the blatantly obvious goes to… Alex!’
‘Look, Spit,’ said Alex. ‘You heard Adonis. If we don’t do something, the zombies will kill the patients and then overrun the town. It’s up to us to prevent it!’
‘But we only just survived against those zombie chefs. We don’t stand a chance against a whole army!’ exclaimed Cherry.
As if in agreemen
t, the door to the storeroom shuddered as a horrifying zombie moan echoed through the air.
‘Adonis must be using the hospital radio system to amplify his powers somehow,’ said Inchy. ‘It’s the only way he can control so many zombies.’
‘I have ze idea,’ said Mr Kowalski. ‘Ve split up. You go get Adonis. I’ll hold off ze zombies.’
‘On your own?’ said Spit. ‘How on Earth will you do that?’
Wordlessly, Mr Kowalski reached into the nearest drawer and produced two strange and fearsome‐looking kitchen utensils.
‘Wow!’ gawped House. ‘Spiky hammers!’
‘They’re for tenderizing meat,’ said Inchy.
‘I knew that,’ lied House.
Before anyone could raise any other objections to the plan, the storeroom doors burst inwards under the weight of a squirming mass of the dead. Mr Kowalski looked at the gang and winked. Then, yelling something in Polish that sounded very rude, he charged into the ranks of zombies, smashing right and left. Soon bits of zombie were flying everywhere.
‘Brave,’ said Inchy.
‘Insane,’ said Spit.
‘Right, where’s the radio studio?’ asked Alex.
Inchy pointed with his one remaining crutch. ‘On the third floor. But I can’t run anywhere like this.’
‘Allow me,’ said House, swinging Inchy on to his back. ‘Now hold on!’ Then he charged down the corridor, Inchy on his back, like a strange vision of a medieval knight with a crutch instead of a lance.
The gang followed, racing through the hospital, past small knots of bleary‐eyed patients. Freed from the influence of Brain Dead they were confused and disorientated.
Inchy recognized one. ‘Stop!’ he yelled. ‘Stop!’
House skidded to a halt.
‘Lily, it’s Inchy. You have to go back to your ward. Take the others and barricade yourselves in, OK?’
Lily rubbed her eyes. ‘Where am I, Inchy? How did I get out of bed? Where’s my knitting?’
‘It’s in your ward,’ said Inchy, his voice firm. ‘You’ll be safe there. Trust me, Lily.’
Lily looked bemused. ‘Of course I trust you, Inchy.’
‘Good. I’ll see you soon.’
Racing to catch up with the others, it wasn’t long before they were all outside the radio studio.
‘Ready?’ panted Alex.
‘Ready!’ chorused the gang.
House – with Inchy still on his back – barged through the door, with Alex, Spit and Cherry right behind.
It was like falling into a black hole. Inside, the studio was utterly dark. But it was a darkness that was more than just the absence of light – it was everywhere and everything. It dripped from the ceiling, treacle‐thick, making it hard to breathe. For a long second the gang stood motionless, wondering if at any moment the darkness would close its fist and crush them into nothingness.
Then, painfully slowly, their eyes adjusted. The room wasn’t empty – machinery grew out of the gloom. Alex could see a large desk covered with volume knobs, sockets for electric leads and lots of little LED lights. It looked like it might once have been the controls for the radio station, but now it seemed almost alive. Plastic buttons had transformed into claws, and levers into strange bone‐like rods. The tiny lights blinked like eyes. Cables draped the walls and snaked across the floor like veins. Everything was connected to everything else and the whole thing glistened and pulsed slowly, like a huge heart.
‘Oh no,’ said Inchy, sliding off House’s back.
‘What?’ asked Cherry.
Ignoring her, Inchy pointed to a thick red cable on the floor. ‘House?’ he called. ‘Do you reckon you could snap this?’
‘No worries,’ said House, gripping the cable in both hands.
‘Don’t be an idiot!’ yelled Spit. ‘That’s electric!’
‘No, it isn’t,’ said Inchy. ‘Do it, House!’ And before anyone could do anything about it, House ripped it in two.
A red spray licked over them like a huge tongue.
‘Wow!’ said House. ‘What is that?’
‘Blood,’ said Inchy, his voice horrible and cold.
‘Blood!’ squealed Cherry, brushing crimson droplets from her arm. ‘Why? Where’s it from? What’s it for?’
‘This is a hospital,’ said Inchy. ‘There’s bound to be a blood bank somewhere. Adonis is using it to power this machine.’
‘Impossible,’ spluttered Alex.
‘All servants of the Other Side need blood to work whatever evil it is they’re up to,’ said Inchy. ‘Adonis has combined magic with technology. It’s brilliant – in a terrible way.’
Cherry looked like she was going to throw up. ‘It’s foul,’ she groaned. ‘Adonis is really, really sick.’
‘And there he is,’ pointed House.
The rest of the gang turned. In the far wall of the room was a large window beside a thick glass door that led into the inner studio. Behind it stood the tall figure of Aubrey Adonis.
‘There’s someone with him,’ said Cherry.
‘It’s Jim!’ yelled Inchy. ‘He’s got Jim!’
It was true. Adonis was clutching the boy against him, one thin arm wrapped round his shoulders. Jim’s eyes were glassy and he stared straight ahead, unseeing.
Adonis smiled wickedly, the nerves in his cheeks twitching. His face was like a billowing black cloud, laced with flashes of lightning. Looking at him was like staring into the eye of a storm. Then he raised his empty hand and an arc of blazing blue pulsed through the air from his outstretched fingers. It melted through the window, burning a perfect hole, missed the gang by nothing but luck, and slammed into a filing cabinet, which burst into flames.
The gang hurled themselves to the floor.
‘We’re dead,’ choked Spit.
‘Well, at least we won’t be alone,’ said Cherry as, from outside the studio, the distant sound of moaning zombies cut through the air.
But Inchy didn’t hear them. Or the words of his friends either, for that matter. His mind was in another place entirely. He was staring at Adonis and he suddenly knew that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to rescue Jim. His role as an angel, its very meaning, was utterly clear – to protect.
Adonis chuckled horribly and raised his hand to blaze magical lightning at the gang once more. The blue crackle blistered the air, riding the echo of Adonis’s laughter. Spit, Cherry, Alex and House dived for cover behind various parts of Adonis’s hideous blood‐fuelled control desk.
Inchy dived in the other direction. Towards Adonis.
The neat round hole burned in the glass by Adonis’s lightning was all Inchy could see. It was very small… but then so was he. With a superhuman effort, Inchy flung himself through the air.
The gang gasped, their breath stuck fast in their throats, as Inchy scraped the sides of the hole and was through, his crutch clattering on the floor in front of him.
For a moment, the gang were dumbstruck. Then Alex sprang into life.
‘Get in there after him!’ he cried.
In a flash, House was up and at the glass door that led into the inner studio, with the others in hot pursuit. They all had Adonis in their sights. House gripped the handle and pulled. Nothing happened. He pulled again. ‘Alex! It won’t budge!’
From the corridor came another rattling moan.
‘The zombies are coming!’ gasped Cherry.
‘Thanks for the heads‐up!’ said Spit, who didn’t look particularly thankful.
House shook the door. Kicked it. Punched it. Nothing. ‘It’s too strong!’ he yelled.
‘Just a minute,’ hissed Alex, pulling out something that he’d had hanging round his neck, hidden under his sweater.
‘You’re joking,’ said Spit, looking at the bag in Alex’s hand. It was the Lucky Dip.
Cherry couldn’t believe it either. ‘We haven’t got time for this,’ she said as Alex tugged Tabbris’s fishing rod out of the bag. ‘For goodness’ sake, Alex,’ she screamed. ‘I don’t thi
nk we need a Demon Tester to tell us that Adonis is evil!’
‘I’m not going to use it to test anything,’ Alex snarled. ‘I need this!’
‘A fishing hook,’ observed Spit. ‘How useful.’
A horrifying moan echoed from just outside the studio.
‘Look, get out of my way,’ snapped Alex. ‘House – keep that other door shut! Cherry, Spit – find something to use as a weapon.’
‘But what are you doing?’ asked Spit.
Alex dropped to his knees. ‘How do you think I was always able to get out of Gabriel’s locked office?’
‘With a fish hook?’ answered Cherry incredulously.
Alex smiled tightly and poked the hook into the keyhole. He’d never encountered a lock he couldn’t pick.
Then again, he’d never tried to do it with an army of zombies at the door…
On the other side of the glass, Inchy hobbled into the shadow of the towering figure of Adonis.
At his side stood Jim, eyes blank and lost. Behind him lay another control desk – the one that Adonis was clearly using to control the zombies. Like the machinery in the outer room, it was a strange mix of the technological and the arcane. It pulsated with unholy life, flickers of blue energy crawling all over it. The air was heavy with the smell of brimstone.
Outside the studio, the rumbling moan of the approaching zombies grew steadily louder. From out of the corner of his eye, Inchy could see House pressed hard against the studio door, desperately holding it shut. Spit and Cherry were ransacking the outer room in search of weapons, terror ripe in their eyes. Alex was crouched by the glass door, trying to do something with the lock to get to Inchy.
Inchy swallowed hard. Right now, he was on his own.
Adonis smiled. ‘Are you enjoying the show, Inchy?’
‘Show’s over, Adonis,’ Inchy replied, hoping he sounded braver than he felt.
‘On the contrary, my little friend,’ sneered Adonis. ‘It’s only just begun.’ Adonis turned to Jim and ruffled his hair. Inchy squirmed at the sight. ‘Dear little Jim,’ Adonis crooned. ‘So innocent, so perfect.’
‘What do you want him for?’ said Inchy.
Zombies in the House Page 9