Death Plague [Four Zombie Novels]
Page 21
George felt his head nod. “Okay,” he whispered.
Anne took hold of his hand, kissed his lips, then pulled George towards the stairs.
Chapter Two
Alison Winwood felt a shiver go through her cold body; she leaned back against the brick wall and attempted not to cry. She took a deep breath and wiped rainwater out of her eyes before looking back into the dark alley. Just past the two overflowing wheelie bins, an overturned pram, and several black bin-liners, Alison could make out the crumpled shape of the dealer, lying where she’d left him. After what seemed like an eternity but in reality was only a couple of minutes, he had yet to move.
The man was dead, he had to be. Alison would never forget that sickening crunch the back of his head made when it slammed into the concrete. Besides, she watched all that weird looking grey stuff leak out and pool around his ears as Alison had gone through all his pockets.
“That guy is like totally dead, girl,” she whispered. “And you’re the one that’s done it.”
Alison looked at the dark sky, trying to work out what time it was. She remembered avoiding all the pissed up revellers when the nightclubs had finally shut their doors, so it must be around four…maybe five.
It wouldn’t take too long before somebody discovered his corpse. The area may be deserted now, but in a few hours the shoppers would descend upon Birmingham’s shopping malls like fucking locusts. By ten at the least, hundreds of people would have passed this alley on their way to the arcades. It would only take one person to look the wrong way, to be more than a little nosey. It may be even earlier; what if some late drunk decides to take a piss up there? Or what about the council clean up team? They have yet to make an appearance. What about the dog walkers? The owners may not notice, but their animals sure as fuck would notice.
It mystified her as to why she’d yet to feel any sort of remorse for what she’d done, it may not be her fault, but even so, it was still manslaughter.
“At least I think it is,” she whispered. “Fuck him, the bastard deserved it.”
Alison couldn’t care less about the police reining her in, Glen had a form sheet as long as his track-marked arm. He was just another drug dealing scum-bag; the coppers would see it as one more parasite out of the way, not worth even filing a report. They’d assume that Glen had encroached on a rival’s territory and paid for it. Even if the death was investigated, no finger would be pointed in her direction. Alison was an unknown in Birmingham, a young girl of no fixed abode, living on the streets. Only one other girl even knew her real name.
She slid down to the ground and put her head in her hands. It was Glen’s associates whom she feared; even Glen had been scared of them and with good reason. They acted as if they were above the law and they did know where Alison hung out; they’d have no trouble tracking her down. Those evil bastards wouldn’t listen to her story, what was she to them?
She sighed. Alison was a nobody, that’s what. She wasn’t even one of their customers, she had never touched drugs. Alison just made a few pounds by befriending the strays who like her had found their way into the city. She was supposed to point them in the direction of Glen, but only if they fitted into the lad’s profile. Glen had preferred his girls to be young and innocent—the younger the better.
His associates didn’t know about his rather dubious taste in girls; then again, maybe they did and just didn’t care. What did matter was that the dealer had a modicum of respect; he was good at his job. In their eyes, Alison had just denied them a valuable asset.
Her choice was painfully simple, she had to find a way out of the city before those clowns came looking for her. She dare not think of what they’d do if they did catch her.
She jerked her head up as a light coloured sports car slowly drove past her. Alison’s heart hammered against her ribcage. Oh Christ! It was too late, the fuckers had already found her. She got ready to bolt, then she stopped.
What was she playing at? How the hell would they have found it? Besides, those fuckers preferred big, black land cruisers to coast through the dark streets. The car stopped and the side window slid down. Alison knew exactly what this particular driver was after. She forced herself to relax, Alison was now in familiar territory.
On any other occasion, she would have thanked her lucky stars for providing her with some extra cash and possibly a soft bed for the night.
A nervous looking man leaned out of the window. Alison guessed that he was about forty-five, a little overweight with not much hair left. She also guessed, judging by his behaviour, that this was his first time.
“Are you okay, lady? I mean, with all this rain and what have you, would you not like to be somewhere warm and dry?” The man licked his lips.
She pushed her long brown hair out of her face and politely waited for him to finish off his proposal.
“I’ve got a spare bed at my apartment, little lady,” his tongue flicked out, danced across his lips, then slid back in his mouth. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”
How unlucky was she? The perfect mark had just fallen into her lap. He looked stuffed with cash, not that bad looking aside from the lack of hair, and to top it all, he was greener than a sick frog. It would have taken her weeks to use this one up.
He gazed at her like a love-sick puppy. Tempting as it was, but Alison just couldn’t risk it, the man was probably a local. No, she had to turn this one down. If she didn’t get as far from here as possible, she’d be dead in a week; besides, it’s not like she needed any extra cash, not now.
Alison dug into her inside pocket and pulled out a black wallet that she’d lifted from a passing man a couple of weeks ago. He was too busy arguing with an ugly woman with a huge nose to notice that he’d just been robbed. She almost threw the wallet away after emptying out the notes. She was so glad she hadn’t now.
She flashed him a laminated badge. “I’ll give you two seconds to bugger off before I call my friends at vice.” It was only the bloke’s water board ID, but it was too dark to see clearly. The man’s head disappeared back into the car’s interior and within moments he was gone.
She sighed and wished that she could go back in time to an hour ago before all this had started. She hadn’t meant to kill him. She didn’t really want to hurt anyone…this was all his fault.
The guilt of sending those two girls to Glen had been eating into her for days. Alison shouldn’t have sent him the first girl, never mind the second, but at the time she was so desperate. Alison hadn’t eaten any proper food in over a week when he’d offered her a deal she couldn’t refuse.
“You don’t look so good. I don’t normally stop and talk to people like you but I think you may be just what I’m looking for. Would you like to earn some real money?” he had asked whilst smiling down at her.
At the time, Alison was slumped against the side of a dustbin, trying not to think about the excruciating cramps ripping through her body. This had been the first time since she’d run away that Alison had been ill. She hoped the worst of it was over; all she wanted now was a bit of comfort and perhaps a bit of hot food in her belly. Her mind was two years in the past, in her old life, in the sleepy village of Seeton. She sat at the table waiting for one of her mum’s yummy homemade steak and kidney pies with plenty of mash and peas.
Her fantasy evaporated when the man gently booted the soul of her torn trainer. She gave the handsome stranger the once over and decided that he wasn’t going to beat her up. The man crouched beside her and the smell of hot food made her eyes snap fully open. He placed a McDonald’s burger in her hand and sat down cross-legged on the pavement next to her. It wasn’t one of her mum’s pies, but she didn’t let that stop her from ripping open the packaging.
“I’m looking for a young girl.”
She almost choked on her first mouthful.
“Sorry, that came out all weird and creepy, didn’t it? Look I won’t lie to you, I’m no angel, and I’m involved with a lot of shady characters.”
“Now, I know what you’re thinking, but I ain’t no pervert. I just need a young lass to help me run a couple of errands.” The man brushed a non-existent speck of dust off his black jacket.
“Nice clothes,” she murmured. Now that she’d had a good look at him, it was obvious now that he was a dealer. She was unsure how to treat this piece of news. He’d have plenty of cash, no doubt about that, but did she really want to be associated with this piece of slime? Alison hated the druggies and especially hated their keepers. Alison’s stomach rumbled; it appeared that she didn’t have a choice.
“I think you’ve already guessed that I’m in the pharmaceutical business.”
Alison nodded. The man ran his fingers through her filthy hair; she tried not to shrink away.
“You are probably very pretty under all that grime and shit. I suppose I could just use you, but I think by now you’ve been around the block a few times already.” He smiled, showing off his gleaming white teeth. “No offence.”
She sighed. “None taken.” Although there was, and Alison gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to punch the arrogant bastard in the balls. “What do you want me to do?”
The task of finding the creep a girl young enough to fit his specifications only took Alison a few days. All she had to do was hang around the bus station after dark. Those girls running from their past stood out like a sore thumb. She found one, aged just fourteen on the second night.
Her name was Diane. Alison had no idea whether it was her real name, nor did she really care. By the time they’d reached the designated spot, Alison had had enough of her anyway. She hadn’t shut up about her old life, about how her mother was always going on at her to clean up her room and how nobody at school understood her. What little empathy Alison had disappeared within the first ten minutes of meeting her.
She’d explained to Diane that the man they were going to meet would find her somewhere to stay and a good job; the naïve little thing accepted all this with a casual shrug of her shoulders.
Alison remembered watching him take Diane back to his big, black car after he’d given Alison £300. Despite the fact that the girl really was a whiny little bitch, Alison’s conscience still informed her that she just sold that girl to Satan.
She never saw the girl after that, and despite vowing never again to help the handsome but creepy man, three weeks later she repeated her shameful actions. This time it was a terrified twelve year old girl whom she’d found hiding behind the bus station toilets.
He’d made contact again two nights ago. Alison’s mind changed when he gave her over £500 and promised another of the same after the delivery. It was only after he’d climbed back into his flash car when she’d broke down in tears, knowing that if she didn’t end this now, she may as well take her own life.
They’d agreed to meet here tonight, and she had watched him walk into the alley; gingerly stepping over discarded takeaway wrappers and dog shit, no doubt desperately trying not to get his ultra expensive shoes dirty. The smile on his face slipped off when he saw that Alison was alone.
She could still picture that horrible sneer, telling Alison that if she didn’t have the guts to bring him anymore fresh bait then he’d just have her instead. He then pulled down the zip on his trousers.
Glen’s leer turned into a snarl when she shook her head, but he told her that it wasn’t a fucking request but an order. When he lunged for her, trying to grab Alison’s hair, she just snapped. Alison growled and pushed him back.
From the astonished look etched on his hard face, he wasn’t used to his property answering him back. He made a grab for her but his fingers only snatched empty air. Alison had already wiggled her way through a window too large for him to follow.
Alison watched the car’s headlights disappear, knowing that she’d just made a huge mistake. She still could have used him and bedded down for the night. Nobody’s going to be looking for her until tomorrow, anyway. It’s not like she could get out of town at this time in the morning. A few rough grunts and a bit of mess would have more than compensated for a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed.
“Oh, bloody hell. What did I go do that for?”
Maybe she could get a room at a bed and breakfast? It’s not like she couldn’t afford one. Alison glanced around, making sure that she was still alone, then pulled out a large wad of notes from her back pocket. She had no idea how much was here, but she knew that it was more than enough to allow her to make a new life somewhere else, somewhere clean and quiet and away from all this urban sickness. She quickly stuffed the money back, knowing that there was more than enough there to get her killed if somebody else saw it.
The downpour had now turned into a light shower and the traffic had increased, it was time for her to depart before anyone else saw her.
“But I don’t know where to go.”
Alison hurried across the road, heading for nowhere in particular; it was best to just keep moving. It was best to get as far away from that dead man as possible.
She passed a baker’s shop and her stomach growled when the enticing scent of baking bread reached her nostrils. When was the last time she had anything substantial to eat? It wasn’t open yet anyway, so she passed the shop, telling herself that it was still too close to the body.
Alison then saw a sign to the railway station. A grin slowly formed. “Oh, God ain’t you a dizzy mare. There’s everything you need in there. One of the station kiosks is bound to be open.”
She ducked into a shop’s alcove as a patrol car drove past; Alison didn’t think they saw her. After getting some food down her, she decided to board the next train out of this shithole—she decided it was time to go back home and confront her demons.
Chapter Three
He thrust his hand up to block his nostrils when a scruffy young girl, stuffing her face with a chocolate muffin passed his seat. Dean Kasnovski could almost taste the stench rolling off that girl. This was just unbelievable, who the bloody hell had let that dirty tramp on the train? Chances were that the conductor didn’t even know she was on. More than likely, she sneaked on at the last stop and had been hiding in the toilets.
The middle-aged woman on the opposite seat casually slid her hand over her green hand-bag and placed it between her legs. The scruffy girl abruptly stopped in mid-pace and turned to look at Dean; he wasn’t quick enough to remove his hand.
“What’s wrong with your face, mate?” she snapped. “Don’t you like my perfume or something?” Her voice increased in volume with each sentence. She leaned closer and grinned at him. She then wiped her chin, noticing the chocolate crumbs she licked them off.
“Are you trying to suggest that I fucking smell bad?”
Oh, this was so not good. Dean’s eyes flicked past the loud girl and to his horror, the other passengers were staring at him instead of the foul smelling girl.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ve got an itchy nose.”
He turned and stared out of the window. The last thing he needed right now was a load of unwanted attention. Dean watched the girl give him the single digit via her reflection. He breathed a sigh of relief when she must have realised that he wasn’t going to rise to her aggravation. She muttered something under her breath. He didn’t catch the words, but he guessed that they weren’t going to be flattering. She passed into the next carriage. A few moments later, her body odour followed her.
Dean closed his eyes. He pushed the obnoxious girl’s antics to the back of his mind and attempted to calm down.
For the moment, Dean was safe. Even if they discovered that he was missing, they’d be too tied up in dealing with the accident to be concerned about one missing researcher. His eyes sn
apped open, and Dean bolted upright. Oh, bloody hell! What if they did find him missing and assumed that he was infected just like all his other colleagues?
He stole a glance at the grey haired woman opposite him. She had wrapped her thin fingers into the threads of her multicoloured bag. She probably figured that the girl would have spun around and make off with all her possessions once she had finished chewing Dean out. Her eyes were shut tight; she must have decided that now the immediate threat was over it was safe to have a little snooze. Dean placed his hand on top of the headrest and stood up. He saw nobody else, so he sat back down and sighed.
Even if they did think the worst, they were hardly likely to look outside the city, never mind think that he’d boarded a fucking train. A freezing chill shot along the length of his spine at the thought of just how close he’d been to joining the fate of his other colleagues in his laboratory.
It all started with him noticing that Gertrude’s cage hadn’t been shut correctly. This oversight had happened a few times in the last several weeks, it had never been that much of a big deal. For a laboratory rat, she was rather placid and quite friendly. Dean had forgotten which of his colleagues had come up with Gertrude, not that it mattered, the name just stuck.
Dean dragged a hand across his face, a little startled to find tears had collected in the creases.
“It’s all my fault,” he whispered. “I should have noticed it earlier.”
The new batch had completed preliminary tests a couple of days ago. This time, they really believed the enzyme molecules would stay bonded. After three years and countless failures, now his team thought they’d cracked it.
Their group leader and head researcher, Graham, had even ordered in a dozen bottles of champagne for when the final test results showed the team what everybody already knew. Confidence was that high.
For the last few years, he’d been part of a select group involved in trying to crack the human longevity problem. Although government backed, only a few officials knew of their existence. The group’s research and experiments in banned genetic science would have caused an uproar if any of it became known. Although he knew for a fact that the U.S. and a few of the more advanced European countries were involved in the same field, their governments would have immediately labelled the U.K. as a pariah state if their work got out into the open.