Thirteen Roses Book One: Before: An Apocalyptic Zombie Saga

by Michael Cairns

  Her shoulders hunched and she wondered whether she shouldn't have just stayed in the bathroom. Then the doors slid open and she groaned. Across the room she saw Ed, backed against the window, hands before him like they'd make any difference. The floor was covered in corpses, stiff and cold like James. The air con hadn't made any difference.

  She dashed across, weaving between the bodies and grabbed him by the shoulder. He flinched and shoved her away.

  'They just all fell over. One minute she was talking about her son and the next she just fell over. They're so cold.'

  'Yeah, not for long. C'mon.'

  Ed finally looked at her through eyes that struggled to remain still, flicking this way and that.

  'What do you mean?'

  'They'll wake up soon.'

  The little amount of blood that had managed to remain in his face fled and he took her outstretched hand. 'Where have you been?'

  'Went to turn off the air con. Getting a bit cold in here.'

  'How do you know how to do that?'

  'I don't. Took James with me.'

  'Where's James? Who's James?'

  'James is a zombie. Well, he was. Now he's down an eye on the floor of the electrics office.'

  Ed's eyes settled on her, brow creasing. 'I don't get it.'

  'Tell you later, c'mon.'

  She was trying to keep her voice calm and quiet. She'd seen the ambulance people do it when they came to take someone away. They always talked to her and anyone else around, always with the same questions.

  'Did they have anyone, anyone we should call? Did you know they were struggling?'

  And she'd always notice the calm quiet voices and somehow she'd answer the questions with a straight face, like they weren't the stupidest questions in the world. She was using that voice now talking to Ed, and he was responding just like she'd always done.

  'Yeah, 'course.'

  He let her lead him across the room, weaving between the bodies. They could wake up. At any moment she could put her foot down and feel a hand around her ankle. She had to stop herself running across the room, if only so Ed didn't lose the plot entirely. She kept seeing things from the corners of her eyes, movement that made her jerk to one side, only to see nothing but corpses.

  They reached the lift without Ed freaking out further at the presence of lots of dead bodies, and stepped in. They both sighed and she pressed the button. The doors were most of the way closed when an arm slipped through. Ed screamed and threw himself back, banging off the opposite wall. She grinned, waiting for the door to close and snap off the offending limb.

  Instead, they pinged and reopened, and she stared at the faces of those with whom they'd shared their day, every one staring at her with sunken eyes and bared teeth.

  Alex - Friday: 6 Days to Plague Day

  They stood before St Paul's, buffeted this way and that by eager tourists and business men with their heads down and game faces on. London felt overwhelming after the peace of Yorkshire. Everywhere felt overwhelming at the moment. Even the train had been stressful.

  Luke had dragged him out of bed and dumped him on the floor late yesterday afternoon. Following a brief announcement that they were on their way back to London, he vanished to book tickets, leaving Alex to wake up and get ready to leave. He wasn't ready to go anywhere. He still only half-believed he had hands, and every time he used them they jarred and felt alien.

  The sun was out, returned after a weekend away, and he rocked his head back to soak up the rays. He kept going back in his mind to that moment on the train when he'd seen his stumps. Not knowing why they were like that was almost worse than seeing it happen. The complete lack of mental preparation had caught him like a punch in the stomach, and he was still struggling to draw breath two days later.

  He wondered if this was how you felt when someone you loved got killed, in a road accident or something. The shock of it impacting as much as the event itself. His entire world had spun away, like nothing mattered anymore, and realising his hands meant that much to him only made him extra paranoid. He didn't want to use them in case something happened.

  Luke had done it to keep him in line and on the train, but he'd done so much more than that. Alex glanced to his left. Did he know what he'd done? Would he care if he did? The man, or whatever he was, was a conundrum. He was evil, if such a thing existed, yet he was striving to save the world. The two things didn't gel, in any way.

  And Luke didn't quite gel either. Most of the time he was this grinning man who delighted in screwing with other people. But every now and then Alex caught him looking pensive, or being polite and nice when he didn't need to be, and he couldn't help wondering which of the two Lukes was nearer the truth.

  Now, though, his face showed only the evil Luke. His teeth were clamped together, the pressure pulling the skin on his face tight and showing off the pulsing vein in his temple. He hadn't said much about why they were here, only that it was one of his own kind who was after him. Apparently, it wasn't very surprising.

  Alex was happy to stay clear of what was going on. Given the choice he'd be far away. He still hadn't managed to contact Lisa and he was sure she'd think he'd run away. Threatened with a baby and done a runner. Maybe she'd visited the lab and found it empty. Or maybe she'd given up on him. He couldn't blame her, not with how little he'd been around recently.

  'Have you got any money?'

  'Huh, what?'

  Luke gave him a look. 'I said, have you got any money?'

  'Uh, not on me, but in the bank I guess.'

  'Get some, please. We need two tickets for St Paul's and they're tight bastards in there. And I need something to eat as well.'

  'Why do you need it now? How did you pay for our train tickets and everything?'

  'I have outstanding skills of persuasion. But one doesn't fleece the church, not unless you want a whole world of trouble. Don't get me wrong, it's tempting to thumb my nose at him, but it's not going to get me back home any quicker.'

  'Where's home?'

  'Money, now.'

  With a sniff, Alex walked across to the cashpoint in front of the supermarket and took out a hundred pounds. There was no doubt he wasn't getting it back, but he didn't think saying that to Luke would make much of a difference.

  A few minutes later they strolled into the cavernous confines of St Paul's Cathedral. He'd never been in here. It was one of those London landmarks that had vaguely appealed but was never worth the cost. It was, in truth, pretty impressive. The floor was a wonderful pattern of black and white, like a chess board that had gone out of control. The columns were huge and majestic and covered in stunning carvings. The ceiling seemed ridiculously far away and his neck ached within five minutes of being inside.

  He tried to relax and enjoy the place, but Luke fidgeted like a bored school boy and it ruined any enjoyment he might have got from the experience.

  In fact, Luke wasn't just fidgeting, he looked really uncomfortable. He kept scratching parts of himself and looking this way and that. Alex heaved a sigh and grabbed his arm.

  'What is it?'

  'He can see me here. I just don't like being watched, that's all.'

  'Who can see you?'

  'Who do you think?'

  Alex chuckled and shook his head. Luke was many strange and amazing things, but the part of the story that was clearly not true, was the part where he was an angel. That was like saying God sent him here to do holy works. Next he'd be claiming the Bible was true.

  Alex snorted and made his way beneath the massive dome, peering up with his mouth open. He tended to dismiss religion wherever possible, but there was no denying they built great buildings. Luke came past him fast and put his hand around his arm. He tugged him towards the back of the church.

  It was pleasantly quiet and soon they found a darkened corner in the North Transept with no one in sight. Luke stopped and squared him up so he faced the brick wall.

  'What do you see?'

  'A wall. Maybe some scratched
graffiti, although I'm sure that couldn't be there, not if God's watching.'

  Luke smiled, a rare genuine grin that made Alex itchy.

  'You really don't believe at all, do you?'

  'There's just so many reasons to think it's all a crock. It's about control, always has been. Why expect your peasants to be scared of you? It's far more convincing to create something for them to be scared of, something that happens after they die. You don't have to prove anything and you get obedience without all the pesky hangings and executions.'

  'I'm glad you've got it all sorted out. It makes my life considerably simpler.'

  Luke was still smiling, and Alex opened his mouth to ask what he meant when the wall before him shimmered. It wobbled, like something made the bricks soft and malleable. He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes. The shimmering was getting worse, and Luke put a hand in his back and shoved. Alex put his hands out to stop himself from colliding with the wall, but instead of hitting it, he went straight through.

  He was in absolute darkness and it smelled of age and dust. He scuffed a foot along the floor and felt stones and sand shifting around. Luke's voice hissed in the black.

  'This is nothing to do with God. There's no way he made it possible for that wall to become transparent. Nor was any magic involved of any sort. In fact, the knowledge of the hollow walls here has only remained secret through pure coincidence. Which makes perfect sense, what with the human race being in no way curious, or eager to explain the stories they're told.'

  Alex opened his mouth and closed it again. There were things in this world that were inexplicable; being shown the future and having your hands temporarily removed high among them. But that didn't mean God existed. And that wall could have been created in any number of ways. He bit his lip.

  Luke brushed past him and he jumped.

  'Where are we going?'

  'Hsst, keep your voice down. Sound travels in here. We're going this way.'

  'I can't see anything. Which way is this way?'

  'That's unfortunate. Maybe you'll have to trust to the will of God that you choose the right direction. You could walk around in here for days before you starved.'

  His voice grew faint and Alex hurried to keep in range. When he stopped talking, he focused instead on the soft tread of his shoes and the occasional click they made as they struck smooth stone. It was silent in here and the darkness showed no signs of abating. How had this place remained a secret?

  But then, this was a church building and they were renowned for keeping things secret. No one would mess around with St Paul's without the church allowing them, and he couldn't see that happening. So in actual fact, it was easy to imagine no one knowing about this. Only Luke did and that was frustrating, if only because it was harder to explain away.

  His thoughts were derailed as he noticed Luke's back before him and the dark grey of the walls to either side. Light was coming from somewhere and he heaved a sigh of relief. Luke stopped, raised a hand, and crouched down. Alex followed suit and shuffled after him as he moved further forwards.

  The light grew brighter until the corridor was lit by flickering oranges and yellows. The scene over Luke's shoulder was extraordinary and very unlikely. Not impossible, but unlikely.

  The tunnel came out right at the top of a cavern that must have been as deep as St Paul's was tall. Directly beneath the exit was a small platform and a set of horribly steep steps descending into the cavern. The walls were rock, smooth in some places and ragged in others.

  The bottom of the cavern was flat, artificially so, and the centre was home to a church. It was, he realised, a miniature version of St Paul's, all the way from the steps leading onto the cavern floor, up to the enormous basilica. It was miniature only in that it wasn't as large as the one they were beneath. But it was a good-sized church nonetheless.

  Unlikely, not impossible. The trucks Luke had mentioned seeing in Yorkshire were all parked at one end of the cavern, the fire light flickering off the plain grey armour. The light itself came from a series of torches fixed around the walls and a huge fire that sat at the far end of the cavern, near the tunnel mouth through which he assumed the trucks had gained access. The cave was empty of people.

  Luke gave him a look. 'This is the power of the church. Not some pathetic hold over peasants who want to be dominated, anyway. This.'

  He shook his open hand at the vista hundreds of feet below.

  'But why? What's the point in all this?'

  'I could tell you things about power centres and St Paul's being built where it is for very deliberate reasons. I could mention how every ceremony and moment of true belief that happens above is channelled down into here and used. But you wouldn't buy it, so what's the point?'

  He was right, it would be rubbish, but he wanted to know anyway. Luke was already creeping out of the tunnel and lowering himself onto the platform below.

  'We aren't going down there, you're bloody mad.'

  Luke put his finger to his lips and pointed to the trucks. 'The stuff you created is in there so unless you have a better plan, going down there is exactly what we're going to do.'

  Alex hissed and rubbed his face. He followed Luke down onto the platform. They both froze as the sound of chanting rose up to them. Alex crouched, clinging to the rough wall as he got a brief glimpse over the edge. His stomach lurched and he went dizzy. The chanting grew louder and the front of the church opened.

  Men emerged, wearing long simple robes of pale grey. One wore white and stood out from the monotony of his comrades. Behind them came soldiers, all wearing various shades of grey, and all chanting. Near the back, two men held between them a figure, stripped to the waist and struggling. Her cries reached them up on the platform and Alex's knuckles whitened where he gripped the rock.

  David - Thursday: Plague Day

  He landed on top of the zombie. Its legs caved and it tumbled from the tree. David slammed into the branch, slipped off, and felt gravity take hold once more. He scrabbled and scrambled as his brain howled and somehow, by some miracle, he caught hold of the branch.

  His shoulder wrenched as his arms took all his weight. He held on, though. He couldn't let go, he couldn't fall down there. He wrapped a leg over the branch and pulled himself up until he lay belly down on the wood. It was sticking into him in all sorts of places, but the pain was negligible compared to the panic that had him in its grasp.

  He panted and pushed his forehead into the branch, willing the sharpness of the sticks to bring him back to himself. He didn't really know what that meant anymore. He didn't know who he was to be brought back to. But he chewed on his lips and felt the roughness of the bark beneath his skin, and slowly but surely his breathing slowed.

  Then he noticed the growls. They were low, like a dog with its hackles up, and they sounded vaguely silly. Like humans pretending to be dogs. He opened his eyes and peered around the trunk. The zombie he'd knocked off was buried beneath a pile of his companions. In the moment in which he looked down, one of them stood, a severed arm gripped triumphantly in its fist.

  David swallowed and closed his eyes again. Was peace too much to ask for? He opened them and watched as the horde scattered, leaving behind blood-covered bones and a stain on the grass. He should have felt somehow better that the one who'd tried to kill him was dead. He might have, too, but some of those who'd finished feasting on their companion turned their eyes upward.

  They didn't see him to start with, their deep-sunk eyes roving through the branches. Then one pair settled on him, and the owner of them staggered to the tree and began to climb. He watched, fascinated despite himself. The thing had the coordination of a three year old, but it moved on memory, hands jerky as they gripped and pulled.

  And it climbed, far faster than he wanted. It was beneath him soon enough, clawed hands reaching out. He kicked it and got a lucky strike. One of the hands shattered, fingers dropping off as the rotting flesh beneath gave way.

  David nodded, satisfied. It would go away
now, like a wounded wild animal. Only it didn't. It was balanced precariously on a branch, but still it reached for him. It wouldn't give up, would it? Because it wasn't a wild animal. It was a human. He would have to do something, actually make the choice to do something.

  The zombie wobbled back and forth but maintained its place on the branch. If it landed on the floor, would it suffer the same fate as its comrade? There was only one way to find out. He took a deep breath and gripped the branch as hard as he could. Then he slipped his feet off and hung, well within reach of the zombie.

  His heart sat just behind his tongue, trying to choke him. The hands reached for him, one whole and the other bearing stumps dripping blood. He kicked at them and then at its head. His foot slammed into its face, and it slipped and lost its footing. He watched it tumble down through the branches, fierce grin on his face.

  It wasn't a grin he'd have recognised. It probably wasn't a smile he'd have ever worn before his days alone. But things had changed. It was a grin that showed the cracks.

  The zombie landed with a thud and flailed around like a beached whale. Just as he'd hoped, the others closed in and fell on it, biting and chewing and tearing. His grin widened. He could stay up here as long as he needed. Perhaps if he was silent they wouldn't even know he was here. He could stay here and be peaceful and quiet.

  He climbed up to his original branch and tucked himself in with his back against the trunk. He squirmed until he felt something close to safe, and waited. They would leave. They knew they couldn't get him now and they wouldn't want to risk being eaten by their mates.

  Then he heard a growl and the fantasy vanished.

  Another was trying to get up the tree, and now he had to make a decision. They didn't seem to move all that fast, even when they were attacking. He'd seen Dawn of the Dead, but he'd seen 28 Days Later, too. The question was, were these the fast or the slow zombies?