He cursed and glanced over his shoulder. Krystal was climbing down from the truck, sword already in hand. A zombie appeared from behind a van and ran at her across the concrete. His shoulders stiffened. It moved in the same, awkward manner, but fast, like something was pulling it towards Krystal on a rope.
She set herself, blade horizontal like he’d taught her. He held his breath, sneering at himself as he did. The zombie got faster and he thought she’d left it too late. Then the blade flashed, Krystal side-stepped, and a headless body tumbled to the ground. It was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen and he stopped just short of applauding. Ten days of teaching and she could move like the best of them.
She jogged over, face flushed and grinning, and he clapped her on the shoulder. ‘Well done. Where’s Bayleigh?’
‘Staying in the cab. I told her it was better to have someone out here in case we need help.’
‘That’s true.’
‘Yeah, and she couldn’t handle it. She’s not fast enough.’
Luke raised an eyebrow but couldn’t hide the grin from her. She headed for the front door. Another figure appeared in it before they got there and they spread apart, moving to either side. The zombie looked from one to the other, like it was choosing. That thought sent goosebumps up his back.
It chose Luke. More meat probably. He set himself the same way Krystal had, blade ready for a stroke across at head height. The zombie rushed and he blinked. It was on him faster than he’d thought possible and he missed its neck entirely, slicing through the air behind its head.
The pommel caught it in the side of the head and did enough to dislodge its hand as it clutched at his neck. He swayed sideways, breaking free entirely, and slammed his heel down on the creature’s leg. It snapped and the zombie tumbled sideways and onto his hip. He twisted and the zombie fell behind him. Luke spun and buried his sword straight in the back of its head.
He yanked it out and puffed, sucking in air. He was beginning to see the attraction of drugs. If they did this to dead people, what would it be like if you were alive? He was about to say as much to Krystal when it occurred to him she was sixteen and probably didn’t need those sorts of thoughts in her head.
Why did he care? Why did he care what thoughts she had and whether she was on drugs? He was leaving. He had to go to Az, he couldn’t be here anymore. He couldn’t be here with the pain. He couldn’t be thinking about this girl like she mattered to him, or about Bayleigh, sitting in the truck and staring at him with those beautiful eyes that made every act of compassion he’d ever witnessed pale in comparison. He shook his head and covered the rest of the distance to the front door.
Krystal was right beside him but he kept his eyes fixed to the front. Silence greeted them from inside the warehouse. The offices were open and they explored them one at a time until they came to a large silver cabinet on the wall.
It was locked but gave way beneath repeated pounding from a stool. Keys hung above printed registration plates. They looked at each and Luke sighed. Krystal held up a finger. ‘Where’s your phone?’
‘Where’s yours?’
‘Lost it when I went over on the bike. Hand it over.’
He passed her the phone and moments later she was speaking to Bayleigh. It was one of those things he struggled to get his head around. She ran her fingers across the rows of keys until she found the right hook.
‘Kay, see you in a minute.’
She put the phone back in her pocket and headed for the door. She’d taken his phone. It didn’t matter. He had no one to speak to and it wasn’t like she was going anywhere. But he couldn’t ignore that she’d just pinched his phone, as though it really mattered. He was ready to jump off something high. Maybe he shouldn’t go and see Az, maybe he should just give everything up and let the zombies have their way.
He sneered. He was depressed. He was an angel and he was depressed. At the very least, he was a miserable bastard. What was worse, he cared about it because he knew people didn’t like miserable bastards. So now it mattered what Krystal and Bayleigh thought about him. His sneer grew wider as he went through the door after Krystal.
They stepped out into the car park. The sky was beginning to lighten over to their right and the storm had finally moved on, leaving a light drizzle. He shook his head and stomped towards the truck.
He was halfway there when the first zombie stepped out from behind a truck and stared at him. He waited for it to attack and it looked for all the world like it wanted to, but something stopped it. Another appeared, a little further round, and then another and another. Krystal pressed back against him, putting her shoulder against his ribs.
‘What are they doing?’
‘Thinking.’ He said it with all venom he could muster and felt her stiffen against him and pull away. ‘Or someone is doing their thinking for them.’
He turned, searching. There was a zombie atop the warehouse, staring down at them with its hands on its hips. Was it thinking, or just staring? How was he supposed to know? Then he saw something, a flash of red in its eyes, and he growled in the back of his throat.
‘What?’
‘This is Az’s work. He’s controlling them.’
‘Controlling the zombies?’
‘Why else haven’t they attacked?’
‘Fair point. We should get in the truck then.’
‘He won’t let us, but we may as well try.’
He broke into a run, Krystal on his shoulder the entire way. The moment they began moving, the zombies left their posts and attacked. They moved in that same awkward, hysterical way, that covered the ground like nothing else. They wouldn’t make the truck. They wouldn’t get anywhere near it.
He set his back to Krystal’s and settled his hands around the hilt of his sword. Bayleigh would have to do something, and even as he thought it, the engine started up. But the zombies were far quicker.
The first leapt at him like a striking cat and he barely got his sword in the way in time. It went straight through its neck and blood gushed onto his hand. He had set himself and the weight of the zombie wasn’t enough to knock him over. He twisted the blade and wrenched it out the side of its neck, spraying more blood across the concrete.
The freed zombie came at him, head slewed to one side. It was too close for the sword. He grabbed the front of its t-shirt and slammed the hilt of his sword into the side of its head again and again. Its mouth was open and it raged, spit flying off its pastel yellow teeth accompanied by the overpowering scent of rot.
Even when the skull cracked and blood covered its eyes, it still thrashed and snapped. The next blow clove in its skull and it dropped limp. He threw the corpse as far from him as possible and waited for the other zombies to feast. They ignored the corpse and kept coming.
This was Az. This had his fingerprints all over it, damn him. Luke sniggered as he deflected the claws of his next attacker. He already was damned. Damned first to Hell and second to Earth. If Luke had the power, he’d damn him a third time. He would have the power if he killed the Father.
Especially if he killed him and took over on his own.
He smiled as his blade cut through the zombie’s legs. It crashed face first to the floor and he stamped as hard as he could. His heel went straight through the skull as its face crumpled against the concrete.
Krystal was still standing and facing her own pile of corpses. The pride he felt at her success would pale beneath the power he’d wield if he took over. He wouldn’t need to worry about her because he could protect them easily. He blinked as the next zombie attacked, leaping through his guard as he daydreamed.
It tore a claw across his cheek and he shouted, dropping back as blood spilled out and ran down his face. He hacked through its arm, but all he did was remove the obstacle between them. Its breath was hot on his cheek as it crashed into him. His sword was trapped between them, so he pulled his head back and slammed it into the creature’s nose.
It exploded, raining blood across
his face, and he pressed his lips together. His next blow drove the bone into its brain and it toppled away from him. It was replaced by another two coming at the same time, hands outstretched.
‘Shit.’
He risked a brief glance behind and saw Krystal on one knee. The zombie she fought was missing its face and already falling, but blood covered Krystal’s arm and all his bitterness and anger were wiped out in an instant.
Alex
The poker was ripped from his hand as it caught on the child’s sleeve. He swore, grabbing at the wriggling creature as it struck him full in the chest. It threw him back and his head bashed the edge of the steps. The light flashed and dulled as he rolled to one side and hit the floor. The child clung to him and bared its teeth.
He grabbed it by the shoulders, holding it as far away as possible. The scent of rot was sweet and sickly and he gagged. The momentary slip gave it space to drive itself towards him and its teeth snapped closed a few inches short of his nose. Their eyes were less than a foot apart and he stared into its blackened orbs. There was something there, some consciousness he hadn’t seen in others.
Then it was gone, replaced with a dull savagery that made fighting it easier. But he was stuck, unable to move or reach the poker. The zombie child was heavy and getting more so every second. He moved one hand from the shoulder to the child’s neck and gripped it tight.
He released the shoulder with his other hand and it convulsed, slashing at him with its hands. Its claws were thin and sharp as they raked across his face. The light from the lamp sent shadows dancing across the floor and walls. He tried to grip its neck with his other hand but it knocked his arm away. He tried again and the creature slammed its hand into his face.
It was winning. This horrible child creature was beating him. He gritted his teeth and tried for a third time. The arm came again but he shoved it away and wrapped his hand around its neck. He had it now, as helpless as a zombie could be, and he squeezed tight. The child showed no sign it was bothered at the pressure, but Alex had no intention of cutting off its air. He didn’t even know if it breathed.
He squeezed and felt the bones beneath his fingers shift and pop out of place. Now the zombie screamed, that plaintive keening that made him want to stop. He didn’t, though. The skin gave way beneath his hands and blood poured out and still he squeezed until he felt the hardness of bone. He twisted, first one way, then the other, and then he yanked as hard as he could.
The head came away with a tearing, cracking sound, like pulling apart a chicken carcass. He pictured gravy and roast potatoes, looked at the head, and burst out laughing. Then he rolled onto his side and vomited. His stomach lurched and heaved until it was empty.
He threw the head awkwardly into the darkness and lay still until his breathing returned to normal. His nostrils were clogged with the smell of sick and rot and his stomach turned, trying to find something else to expel. Footsteps came down the stairs and Tanya’s pale face appeared in the light from the lamp.
‘Alex, are you alright?’
‘I think so. Don’t come down here, really, don’t.’
He sat up, checking the back of his head. How he’d come out of it with only bruises he had no idea. Getting up hurt, for which he had the fall down the stairs to thank, but he could still walk. His hands were coated in blood and other stuff, lumpy and sticky, and he tried not to look at them as he clambered shakily up the steps.
Tanya waited at the top. She stared at his hands and went even paler. ‘Come into the kitchen.’
They blasted the water until it steamed and he shoved his hands beneath it, wincing as his skin was scalded. There wasn’t enough soap in the world to make them feel clean, but they were pink and fresh when he’d finished, and that would have to do. He collapsed on one of the chairs at the kitchen table and stared at Tanya.
‘We’re staying here now.’
She nodded and tried to smile as she spoke. ‘Unless you fancy trying somewhere else? There are probably some nice places just down the road. Empty, devoid of mad old men who lock children up in their basement.’
‘You know, I think we found the only house in Buckinghampshire with children locked up in the basement.’ He shook his head. ‘Let’s get the others inside.’
The storm had eased a little, but their drying clothes were soaked again by the time they reached the truck. Alex took the keys while Tanya opened the back and led the ladies out and into the house.
They tromped in through the back door, skirting around the trap with curious glances at him and Tanya. He shook his head. ‘We need to do some cleaning, but it can wait until tomorrow.’ He slammed the trap door and headed upstairs. Ed came with him, trying to tell him about the women he’d spent the last six hours in close confines in. Alex had enough energy left to ponder on how he’d have handled that situation. He thought he’d probably have been terrified.
Then he lay on the first bed he came to and passed out.
The light coming in through the window was pale and grey, but it was enough to drag his eyelids open. He groaned and rolled over. Ed lay beside him, hair off his face for once. The kid was pale but looked fine. Alex sat up and stared down at him.
What was going on in there? What sort of dreams did he have? Were they as tortured as what was going on out here? Was he ever going to tell any of them if they were? Alex climbed out of bed and tiptoed across to the window.
Three of the ladies were on the other bed in the room, deep in sleep and wearing the clothes they’d had on yesterday. He wasn’t the only one who’d been exhausted. He leant on the windowsill and looked out. Rolling fields ran from the house, interrupted here and there by small copses of trees. He could make out houses down in the valley, but they were a long way away.
He stared at the fields and the green until tears filled his eyes, and he squeezed them closed.
They’d survived.
He didn’t feel safe. He wasn’t safe, none of them were, but there was something here that made it all feel very different. He nodded and stepped away from the window.
The stairs creaked. He hadn’t noticed that last night. Five of the ladies were in the kitchen, leaning against things or sat on the chairs. He said good morning and one of them made him a cup of tea. He’d need to start learning names, though right now he wanted to be alone.
He took his tea and stepped out of the back door. The clouds scudded across the sky, greys and whites vying for dominance. The storm had cleared everything and left the air crisp and cool. He drank it in with his tea, taking long deep breaths and wondering how he’d stayed in the city as long as he had. He’d grown up near Brighton in a tiny town nestled among the hills and every day had been like this.
Somehow he’d decided he hated it and gone running to London. Now he couldn’t imagine hating it. He couldn’t imagine a life without the peace. And it was peaceful. He could hear bird song and the wind through the trees, and not one bit of traffic, not one sound made by man.
‘Should you be out here?’
He jumped. Tanya smiled at him and sat on the low stone wall that bordered the garden. It meant she couldn’t see the view, but her eyes were fixed on him. ‘Sleep well?’
He nodded. ‘Not enough. Not yet. It’s lovely here.’ It sounded inane and pointless, but she smiled again and nodded back. ‘Yeah, it is. Glad we’re out of the city.’
He grinned and looked past her down the valley. He pulled his phone from his pocket and pushed the button. He had five percent left and no messages. Where were they? He assumed Krystal was alive, or they’d have told him, but that was scant comfort. They needed to get here because whatever food was in the house was going to run out soon and he didn’t fancy ever leaving here again.
He put his phone back in his pocket. He’d charge it when he went back in. The wind blew gentle against his face as he stared out at the view.
Dave
How could there be a war? There was no one to fight against. He wanted to ask Az but the demon was already flappi
ng away over the skyline, a huge red silhouette against the lightening sky. The sun was hidden by the clouds but after the storm the weather felt positively lovely. The steady drizzle stole the rest of the sleep from him and left him refreshed as he clambered back down the ladder.
The babies would be awake soon, awake and hungry. He crept back into the box and stopped dead. The babies were gone. In their place lay two teenaged boys, maybe thirteen or fourteen. They were still covered in red fur, but their nakedness revealed that everything else about them was quite human. That was until one rolled over and Dave saw the beginnings of wings sprouting from his back.
His children were growing so fast. He’d known, somehow, that they would. There wasn’t time in the new world for children to be babies. There was no room for vulnerability, especially not for children like his, children others wouldn’t understand. He was pleased. They needed to be strong.
He settled into one of the chairs and waited for them to wake. His mind played games with Az’s final statement, searching for meaning. What war? It could only be a war with the zombies. Is that why he was creating these children, to fight the zombies? It went against everything Dave understood of demons. They were evil, complete evil, so surely Az loved the zombies.
He said the soldiers were pissing him off. What had they done to piss him off? He was a demon, what could anyone do? The nearest of his children woke and sat in one smooth motion. It stared at him with black, piercing eyes and Dave bit his lip.
‘Hungry.’
‘I know, I know. Once your brother awakes I’ll take you somewhere to g—’
His son leant over and thumped his brother in the side of the head. He woke, sat straight up, and responded with a fist to the face. In seconds the two boys were tumbling around the box, laying punches in all over the place.
‘Enough, ENOUGH.’ Alex rose to his feet, shaking his fist, and the boys split apart, staring at him with wide eyes. He nodded and tried to mollify his harshness with a smile. They responded by hanging their heads and coming closer. He found himself grabbing each by the scruff of the neck and ruffling them like they were dogs.
Thirteen Roses Book Five: Home: A Paranormal Zombie Saga Page 14