With Larissa by his side, Rhys walked over to the first house. “If only it were like the old days when people actually had a landline.”
As Larissa walked next to him she said, “I don’t fucking like it here. There could be anything in any of these houses.”
“Don’t worry; I think the town cleared out a while ago.” The warble in his voice undermined his confidence, but Larissa didn’t pull him up on it.
Rhys approached the first house in the street, the one with the bloody garage door. He walked up to a dark window and only saw his reflection. When he stepped closer still, his warm breath turned to condensation on the glass. It made it harder to see inside.
With his hands cupped around either side of his face to block out even the moonlight, Rhys pressed against the window and stared into the dark room. His skin tingled as adrenaline surged through him. It looked like the living room from what he could see. It seemed empty. “I’m not sure we’re going to have much—”
The face of a diseased sprung up on the other side of the pane and Rhys’ heart damn near jumped from his chest. A huge chunk of flesh hung from the side of its face like a rancid strip of steak. With hatred locked onto Rhys through its bloody eyes, it opened its mouth and released its war cry.
Chapter 8
About twenty-two weeks ago
“Look, Vicky,” Brendan said as he pulled a chair out and sat down at the kitchen table opposite her, “it’s been over two weeks since our anniversary meal and”—he reached over and held both of her hands—“I’m not prying, but you’ve been different. Whatever you found out at work that day is eating you up, and I want to help if I can.”
Vicky looked out the window to her right. The entire wall on that side of their penthouse apartment was made from glass. The tallest building for a few miles around, it gave them a great view. London sat as a backdrop with the towered skyline an ever-changing sight of architectural competition. Phallus after phallus, each one grander and bigger than the one next to it. And who said it was a man’s world?
In the foreground, however, stood the Alpha Tower. The sight of it hadn’t bothered Vicky when they moved in. To see it every time she looked out of the window now made the knot in her stomach twist tighter. Although the tower hadn’t bothered her at first, she wouldn’t have chosen the flat, but Brendan loved the view. He said it was perfect. And seeing as he’d been the one paying for it, it made sense that Vicky should honour his wishes. But now everything had changed.
When she looked back at him, Brendan shrugged. “So, do you want to talk about it?”
“Of course I want to talk about it.” Vicky ground her jaw and her vision blurred. She swallowed against the burn in her throat. “I want to talk about it more than ever. But I can’t. I’m sworn to secrecy, remember?”
A frown creased Brendan’s forehead. “But you can trust me, Vic.”
Some of the tension left Vicky as the grief took over. It rushed through her as a hot wave and her eyes watered. A deep and stuttered sigh and she said, “I know I can. I know.”
Brendan squeezed her hands. “Look, I wouldn’t normally pry, but I’m worried about you. Whatever it is you’re keeping to yourself is clearly eating you up. I can help if you let me.”
If she continued to look into his intense blue stare, she’d give everything away, so Vicky looked down at the glass-topped table. For a few seconds she focused on one spot in front of her and felt her breaths; in and out, in and out. When things overwhelmed her, she tried to bring herself into the present moment. Nothing mattered but the now. It made no sense to try to think beyond that point. When she thought of the future, she couldn’t see a way out.
When she looked back up warm tears rolled down her cheeks. Another deep and stuttered breath and she said, “I found out what they do in the Alpha Tower.”
Brendan straightened his back and leaned toward her. “What is it? You can tell me.”
He sounded keen, not a surprise really. If she’d lived with him like this for the past few weeks, she’d be champing at the bit to find out what was up his arse. “Zombies, Brendan.”
Brendan jumped back and his seat screeched over the hard floor. “Zombies?”
“I know. It sounds fucking mental, doesn’t it?”
“What do you mean zombies? You’ll have to give me a little more than that.”
Unable to control the shake that ran through her, Vicky pulled her hand away from Brendan and bit one of her fingernails. It had been years since she’d bitten them and she could still smell the lemon hand wash she’d used earlier that day. “We have the whole weapons embargo, right?”
“Yep,” Brendan said.
“And we’re stuck in the middle of this stupid cold war.”
“And may that end as soon as possible.”
“Well, I think they’ve moved into bio-weapons.”
“And they’re making them in the Alpha Tower?” Brendan asked.
“Exactly.”
“But how do you know?”
“Artem.”
“Your ex-boyfriend?”
“Yep. He showed me some CCTV footage from the labs. He works in building management too, but in the control room. He’s known for some time. He’s sworn to secrecy but he had to show somebody else.”
“And you saw a zombie?”
“Well no, but—”
“How do you know they’re making a virus then?”
“We heard a couple of scientists talk about it. About how the disease was coming along, about how it would put an end to this civil war. About how it would tear through The East until there was no one left.”
What looked like fury but must have been something else, discomfort or maybe revulsion, gripped a hold of Brendan’s features and his warm hands left Vicky’s as he withdrew. Then as quickly as it had settled on him, it vanished.
“Sorry,” Brendan said and shook his head and reached across for her hands again. “That was a bit of a shock to hear.”
“I know, right? That’s why I’ve been so messed up about it. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t like The East.”
“Who does?”
“But I don’t want to see a virus dropped on it either. Just because our leaders can’t get along it doesn’t mean their children should die, their schoolteachers, their doctors …” her voice trailed off.
Brendan shook his head and looked out of the window at the city. After a few seconds, he turned back to Vicky. “You’ve got to leave.”
“I want to, more than anything,”—exhaustion tugged on Vicky’s frame—“but I can’t. If I leave, they’ll know something’s up. I told them everything was great a few weeks ago. How would that look if I suddenly decided I didn’t want to work there anymore? They wouldn’t risk it. They’d make me …” She choked on her words before she finally said, “They’d make me disappear.”
The screech of Brendan’s chair pulled Vicky’s shoulders up to her neck. He got to his feet, walked around the table, and hugged her. His aftershave, strong yet subtle, offered a familiar comfort. She leaned against his well-developed chest and felt the vibration of his deep voice along the side of her face.
“Shit Vic, I see what you mean. You’re right. You need to stay. But what’s happening there is horrible. Completely unforgivable. We’ll figure something out, okay?”
Both blinded and choked by her tears Vicky sobbed as she nodded. When Brendan squeezed her harder she said, “I love you.”
“I love you too, honey, and don’t worry. We’ll get through this.”
Chapter 9
The crash of the breaking window called out into the night air as the diseased leaped through it at Rhys.
With his arms out in front of him, he deflected the thing without getting bitten. Two chings sounded out as he dropped both of his stool legs, and a sharp pain ran through his shoulder blades when he fell onto the hard driveway.
The smell of decay overwhelmed him as he sat up and stared at the hideous creature. He scrambled backwards, his ti
red legs sluggish from the day’s exertion. A mixture of adrenaline, exhaustion, and pain spun through his head, but he kept moving.
The diseased hopped up into an animalistic crouch, stared at Rhys though its bloody eyes, and roared again before it charged at him.
Because Rhys hadn’t gotten to his feet, he fell flat on his back again as the thing jumped on top of him.
Sandwiched between the monster and the hard concrete driveway, Rhys reached up and grabbed the diseased around its throat. Its cold, clammy, and wax-like skin sent gooseflesh down both of Rhys’ arms. Rhys shook beneath its weight as he watched the angry thing bite at the air between them. A series of castanet clicks snapped near his face, but none of them connected. The thing only had half of its teeth left in its dark mouth.
Rhys’ knuckles ached as he tightened his grip. It felt like trying to choke a constrictor.
The monster twisted and writhed as if to break free of Rhys’ grasp. When it turned to the side Rhys saw the gash down the side of its face. At about six inches, long the tacky wound bore the evidence of where it had been bitten.
With his teeth clenched, Rhys growled and pushed against his own shaking arms to keep the monster away from him. But the thing started to overpower him and his flagging strength was no match for the beast’s weight and desire.
As the monster pushed down, Rhys had to turn his head to avoid its bloody drool. Warm and tacky, it landed against his neck like snot. The pungent reek of rot made Rhys’ eyes water while the hard driveway burned his shoulder blades.
Rhys closed his eyes as he dug deep and he screamed through his clenched teeth as his entire body shook. He couldn’t hold out much longer. Then the pressure suddenly eased. He looked up to see one of the stool legs driven through the side of the thing’s face. The pole had been rammed so hard it had gone straight through the diseased’s head and out the other side.
The monster fell off him and Larissa followed up with her other stool leg. Wild-eyed and red faced, she stabbed the creature repeatedly in the side of its head.
Rhys got to his feet, rolled the pain from his shoulders, and watched her pepper the thing with stab wounds. Its bloody right eye had popped from its head and rested on the driveway. A stringy line of nerves and muscles led back into the dark red socket.
“I think you’ve done enough,” Rhys said.
Larissa stabbed it four more times before she finally eased up. Sweat beaded her brow and she drew heavy breaths. “I wanted to make sure.”
Another glance down at the pulped mess on the driveway and Rhys laughed. “I think you’ve done that.” He shrugged and offered her a tight-lipped smile. “That was close.”
Before Larissa could reply, the scream of more diseased sounded out behind them.
Rhys grabbed the two stool legs he’d dropped earlier and Larissa removed her second one from the side of the creature’s head.
At first, they heard the patter of feet as it came around the side of the house. Seconds later, four more diseased appeared. Arms out in front of them, they sprinted with their usual clumsiness. Appearing as if on the verge of a fall, they ran with a forward tilt but, as always, remained on their feet.
Although smarter than the movie zombies, when the diseased sensed prey, they didn’t seem able to do anything but attack. They continued toward Rhys and Larissa at a flat-out sprint.
Rhys picked the one at the front. He used the creature’s momentum against it and speared it in the centre of its face. The stool leg passed straight through it and out of the other side with a wet squelch. Rhys let go of his weapon and evaded the charging monster. It stumbled past him for several more steps before it fell to the ground, the pressure of the impact driving the stool leg all the way through its head. When he glanced at Larissa, he saw she’d done the same with another one of the four.
Rhys and Larissa took another diseased each. Slower than the first two, the second pair seemed to approach with a modicum of caution.
The one that focused on Rhys snapped at the air between them. Its teeth clicked and it released a phlegmy death rattle before it lunged forward.
Although not as thick as his baseball bat, Rhys swung for the diseased with the stool leg anyway. The ting of the thin, hollow pole rang out and a vibration ran all the way down to his tight grip. It dazed the thing and nothing more.
Rhys didn’t give it a chance to recover. He swung for it again and again. With his teeth clenched, he swung and swung. Each hit struck on or around the creature’s temple.
After several heavy swings, Rhys’ hands tingled from the vibrations. The monster swayed, clearly dazed by the attack.
Rhys seized his moment. With both hands on the stool leg, he lunged the sharp end forward into the diseased’s eye. A shot of rancid air belched from the fresh hole.
After he’d jumped aside Rhys watched the monster fall to the ground face first. Like the other one he’d just killed, the crash landing drove the pole farther into its head as it lay limp and lifeless.
When he looked across at Larissa, he watched her lose it on the fourth and final diseased as she drove jab after jab after jab into its bloody face.
“Larissa,” Rhys said.
She continued to stab the thing.
“Larissa.”
Jab, jab, jab.
Rhys spoke louder. “Larissa!”
She finally stopped and looked at him. A deep frown crushed her face and she panted from the exertion.
“I think we’re done here.”
As one, they remained silent and listened. The horrible noise the things made was simultaneously the best and worst thing about them. Every time Rhys heard it, it sent ice through his veins, but at least they announced their arrival. Silence hung in the air.
After a few seconds, Rhys turned back to Larissa. “Thank you for saving me.”
A sharp nod and the hatred Larissa had looked at him with since they’d crossed the river seemed to dilute ever so slightly. She almost smiled when she said, “Welcome.” Almost.
With a diseased by his feet, Rhys squatted down and rifled through the thing’s pockets.
“What are you doing?” Larissa asked.
“Looking for a phone.”
Larissa then dropped down and searched the two diseased she’d taken out. Rhys saw her pull a lighter from the pocket of one of them. A sturdy Zippo lighter, it clicked when she opened it and sparked when she struck the wheel. The flame seemed strong. She snapped it shut again and slipped it into her pocket.
Rhys checked the last of the five, the one that had jumped through the window to attack him, and he felt the small slab in its pocket. “Ah-ha.” He pulled the phone out. The screen had been cracked, but the green battery light on its side remained on. Rhys pressed the home button.
“Fuck it!”
“What?” Larissa asked.
“It’s one of the new ones.”
“The ones that need breath, voice, and skin scent recognition?”
“Yeah. A corpse won’t get you into one of these. You need to be living and breathing to access it. We could be here forever trying to find one of the old ones with just fingerprint access. I mean, who even has those phones anymore?”
Rhys threw the handset to the ground.
Chapter 10
About sixteen weeks ago
It got worse every day for Vicky. The second the security guards stepped aside to let her into the Alpha Tower, the anxious buzz in her stomach began. By lunchtime, she’d lost her appetite. When she finally got ready to leave each day, her guts writhed like she’d swallowed a bag of snakes. It took until well into the evening before she could climb into bed for another fitful night’s sleep.
All day, no matter what task she set her mind to, she could only think about the experiments that went on in the Alpha Tower’s penthouse. She watched every person who entered the building and thought about his or her equal over in The East. Innocents didn’t deserve to die for the sake of government paranoia.
Before she’d found o
ut about the lab upstairs, she would have stayed late if a job needed to be finished. Not anymore. The second it hit five o’clock, Vicky left work. One day, she even left her computer on in her haste to get out. She got a bollocking the next day for that one. Security risk … blah blah … waste of electricity … blah blah blah.
A swipe of her card through the card reader and she left the Alpha Tower for yet another day. When the main door opened, she felt the fresh summer breeze and filled her lungs with a deep inhale. The sun, magnified by the bright windows in the city, blinded Vicky and she had to squint to see clearly. Her eyes already burned from lack of sleep, so she fished around in her handbag for her sunglasses but couldn’t find them. She must have left them at home.
Vicky blinked repeatedly until she finally saw the unmistakable figure walk toward her. Broad and tall, he stood straight and proud. He’d come to meet his woman, and nothing could make him happier. Vicky’s heart lifted as she stepped toward him. After a quick glance around to be sure nobody could hear her, she spoke with a lowered voice. “Brendan? What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to meet you from work.”
“That’s really kind of you, but how did you get into the city without a pass?”
After he’d looked at all the people around them, Brendan lowered his voice too. “It’s quite easy if you have enough confidence in your blag. Most of the time, I have people apologising to me as they let me in.”
“You come here often?”
“Sometimes. It’s nice to check it out, you know?”
Before Vicky could reply, Brendan put an arm over her shoulder and she breathed in his musk.
“Come on,” he said, “let me buy you a coffee.”
“Urgh,” Brendan said, “how tacky.”
When Vicky looked up at the coffee shop’s sign, she couldn’t disagree with him. The flashing neon letters had been written in joined up writing. It read ‘Caffeine’. Smoke curled from the back of the ‘C’ like the smoke from a car’s tyres; almost as if the drink would turbo charge you for the rest of your day.
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