by Russ Watts
“I don’t know what kind of spell or trick this is, but stop it. We’re not doing anything. Just let us go.”
The woman sneered and ran a hand from the scar around her neck to her bosom. “My kin were slain long ago, my sisters buried alive, burned or left to rot in jail to starve to death. My ancestors were wiped out as if they were nothing but cockroaches. Well I’m here to make sure they finish what they started. I am here to bring back our Lord, Belphegor. You will not go. You will pay for what you did.”
Lulu dropped her knife and felt a trickle of urine run down her leg as her body started to float into the air.
“Stop it!”
“Certainly. If you will not pay, then I will select another for Him. He needs more souls. He needs more flesh to add to his own and become real. Only when He is real again can He bring forth His brethren. And the innocent are so delicious.”
Lulu suddenly felt as heavy as a stone and the hard ground rushed up to meet her as she fell. Whatever the woman had done to her was over. Lulu crawled over to Tony and shook him.
“Tony, snap out of it.”
There was no response. He stared up at the woman and Lulu shook Lissie, then Neale and Carrington and Bashar, but they were all under the spell of the woman.
Lulu began to sob. “Please, let this stop.” She put her head in her hands and wished for the world to end. She wanted an end to the nightmare. She didn’t know what else she could do but wait for death.
It was Jo’s screams that awoke Bashar. The woman who had appeared to them before, who had almost killed them back in Leicester Square was disappearing now, headed for the city centre. She was still at least ten feet above the ground with no obvious sign of how she was doing it. There was no hidden motor or engine, no invisible plane; she was flying. As Bashar looked at her in amazement he heard her voice inside his head.
She’s waiting.
And as Jo screamed again he realised that the woman, the witch, was accompanied by a second figure. Alongside her was another, a girl, unconscious and yet levitating beside the evil woman.
“Lulu?” Bashar saw her beside Tony.
“I’m okay. She’s gone.”
Bashar looked back at the witch. The unconscious girl next to her wasn’t Lulu. When Jo tore past Bashar screaming for her daughter he knew who it was. The woman had taken Amelia.
CHAPTER 15
“No, don’t,” said Bashar, as Tony picked up his knife. “I’ll go. You need to get Lissie and the others some place safe.”
Tony looked at his wife. He knew Bashar was right. He wanted to help Jo but at what cost? Risking Lissie’s life? Risking everyone’s?
“Okay, go,” said Tony. “We’ll cut through St James’ park and past Duck Island. Follow the path and you’ll end up at Horse Guards’ Road. I’ll wait there for you.”
Tony crossed the road with his wife anxiously looking at Jo running down The Mall after her daughter.
“I’m coming with you,” said Lulu.
“No you’re not.” Bashar stepped up to Lulu. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I need you to look after Carrington.”
“I don’t need looking after,” said Carrington indignantly. “I’m perfectly capable of—”
“We all know what you’re capable of,” replied Bashar. “You’ll take off given the chance and you’re our only ticket to get out of here. Watch him, Lulu. We need him to get into that bunker.”
“Got it.” Lulu grabbed Carrington’s collar and hauled him across the road by the neck, ignoring his protests.
Bashar watched Marama and Rad follow them, and they disappeared beneath the canopy of trees and circling mist.
“Go on, get after them.” Bashar knew Neale had hung back.
“And leave you to be the hero? I don’t think so.” Neale had a carving knife in his hand and a grim look on his face.
“You sure you’re up to this?” Bashar saw Neale was still beaten up. The cuts on his face had stopped bleeding but how beaten up was he on the inside? The explosion in Carnaby Street had knocked him for six. He had been relatively quiet since then. All morning he had been a nonstop chatterbox and it was only Marama who had seemed to spark any life back into him.
“I haven’t done much with my life, Bashar. I know what you all think of me. I’m living this amazing rock star life, playing my music in bars and sleeping with hot chicks every night.”
Bashar raised an eyebrow.
“But sometimes I feel like life is passing me by, you know? Like I’m just waiting for something to happen instead of making it happen. My ambition seemed to stop when I realised I could take it easy and sleep around with no responsibilities. Shit, I don’t even have a pet. Seeing Michelle eaten alive like that, well it got me thinking that it could have been me. It could have been any of us. I’m coming with you. I can’t just stand back and watch life from the side-lines anymore. I’m going to get that little girl back. It’s not right.”
“Fine by me.” Bashar took his hammer from his belt. With the meat cleaver in his other hand he felt as ready as he ever could be. Quite what they could do to stop the witch he didn’t know, but like Neale, he wasn’t about to give up on Amelia. “I’m pleased you’re on board, Neale.”
The two of them took off running down The Mall. Jo was far ahead of them, still calling for Amelia. The witch and Amelia were too high for Jo to reach. They reached the Admiralty Arch and then disappeared from view, the mist claiming them. Jo ran through it and then she too was gone.
“What is this, Bashar?” asked Neale, as they ran. “You believe in all this? Zombies and demons and shit?”
“I believe in what I can see,” said Bashar. “In what I can feel. If I can touch it then it’s real. If not, then it’s not. Simple.”
“Oh yeah, what about love? Can you reach out and touch that?”
Bashar jumped over the body of a dead dog. They were almost at the Arch but there was no sign of Jo or Amelia. “Sometimes,” said Bashar. “Depends on my wife’s mood.”
Neale laughed quietly, a husky rasp that rattled in his throat. They quickly reached the Arch and caught their breath.
“But love still exists when you can’t see her, you know?” Neale listened for Jo’s screams but they had stopped. He looked at Bashar. “God is the same. Faith. The Devil. It’s all still there, you just have to know how to find it.”
Bashar looked at Neale. “You really want to talk about this now? I think we have more pressing matters to deal with.”
“Yeah, I know. I guess I’m just feeling philosophical or something. That Marama got me thinking. She’s really cool. I mean I know she’s crazy hot, but talking to her made me think about stuff. I don’t know.”
“There’s always a woman,” muttered Bashar. “Come on, Neale, save it for later. Let’s find Jo and get Amelia back.”
Bashar walked under the Arch, amazed that it had so far survived untouched. The stones holding it up were intact and there was no sign of damage. As they walked through it Bashar became aware of a noise. It sounded like a thousand voices all humming the same note in unison.
“You hear that?” asked Neale.
Bashar nodded. The mist was parting for them and revealed a road full of vehicles. They were bumper to bumper, all silent but many with their lights still on. It made it seem as if there was a light show in the mist with so many headlights still shining. Bashar heard footsteps to his left and raised his hammer. An elderly lady in a pink nightdress crossed the pavement slowly, her shuffling feet adorned with fluffy slippers. The friction of the slippers on the tarmac created a soft buzzing sound. Thin ankles protruded from the bottom of her dress that hung low off her bony stooped shoulders, and her flat white hair shone in the gloom. Her face was illuminated by a headlight that pierced the mist. Bashar froze when he saw her sunken eyes that were a jet black colour. The wrinkled skin around her eyes seemed to sag with a weariness that suggested death had come as some relief. The woman’s haggard face was looking right at him and as she lunged Bas
har struck her with the hammer. Her right cheek shattered and a chunk of flesh was torn from her face. The woman raised her fragile arms but Bashar struck again, smashing her brittle skull and incapacitating the brain.
To his right he saw Neale take his knife and stab it through the temple of another woman, this one much younger. She wore a light yellow puffer jacket and jeans covered in dark splotches of blood. The woman dropped to the ground and Neale withdrew his knife from her head.
Bashar made his way around the stalled traffic and the mist began to part to reveal Trafalgar Square. The traffic had blocked the road but the humming noise grew louder with each step he took. There was still no sign of Jo or Amelia.
“Neale,” hissed Bashar, “can you see them?”
Neale shook his head slowly. “I can hardly see a thing through this crap,” he replied coughing. “I thought it was getting clearer back in the park but the fog seems to be coming back.”
“Yeah. And what’s with that noise?”
“Search me. Where the hell did they go? You don’t think Jo got Amelia and legged it, do you?”
“No, she’d come back for us. She’d go back to Tony and Lissie.”
Bashar felt the air change. It was as if someone had dropped a stone and broken the surface of a still pond. The air rippled and he shivered. The fog immediately began to recede. For the first time he saw Nelson’s Column and the National Gallery on the other side of the square. All manner of vehicles blocked the roads and the source of the humming noise was on the other side. Circled around the column were several thousand zombies, all crammed together and looking up into the sky. They were swaying and humming in rhythm as one, as if they were just one being instead of individual people. The humming noise was emanating from the zombies. Their mouths were all open and the sound began to reach a crescendo.
“Bashar? What the fuck is this?” Neale asked.
Through the humming noise Bashar heard a single scream.
“Is that Jo?”
“No, that’s not her.” Bashar looked up. “It couldn’t be. It came from above us.”
There was a luxury hotel and apartment building behind them, and as the fog disappeared Bashar looked up to the fourth floor. He saw a woman leaning out of the window pleading for help. She was waving at Bashar and Neale below.
“Please, help me!”
Bashar looked at Neale. “Later. We have to find Amelia first.”
They looked up as the woman let out a short scream. A thin figure trailing something black behind it, like smoke, rushed through the air. It was as if someone was flying through the air, yet Bashar knew zombies didn’t fly. Was this what had grabbed Wilf earlier? Was it the woman who had appeared to them on The Mall? Bashar watched as the figure swooped down upon the woman. As the helpless woman screamed the mysterious figure flew by her quickly and then off up higher into the air. The screaming woman’s head dropped from her shoulders and her scream abruptly stopped. Blood spurted furiously from her open neck and then her body toppled forward, the arms still moving as if trying to grab hold of something. Bashar felt his knees go weak. What was this? This wasn’t just about the zombies anymore. Something more was going on, something he couldn’t understand, and yet knew he would have to if he was going to survive this and find Nurtaj. Had he really just seen someone fly by that woman and chop her head off?
The woman’s head landed on the pavement a few feet away and was joined by her body a split second later. The impact sent shockwaves through his body and he turned away. Bashar looked at Neale. He mouth was agape and he was staring at the column, his feet starting to take small steps back toward the arch.
“Neale, what is it?”
Bashar looked at the square. The humming noise abruptly halted and Bashar looked at the three figures hovering just above Nelson’s Column.
“No, it can’t be.”
The woman with the fiery red hair and black cape was just above the statue, her body a couple of feet above it. He knew then who it was who had decapitated the woman above him. The fog had gone. A crystal clear blue sky wrapped itself around London. Next to the woman Bashar recognised Jo and Amelia. They were upside down either side of the woman, their faces revealing to Bashar a terror even he hadn’t felt until this point.
The witch controlling them spoke without moving her lips. It was as if she could project her voice into his head. The witch was speaking to the dead, yet he heard he just as clearly.
“He needs more. He demands more souls, more energy so that He can take His true form. He needs energy to grow, flesh to add to His own, and more innocent souls so that He can become whole and bring forth His brothers. He is weak now, but soon He will be strong. Belphegor will soon be Lord of this dominion again and I shall be by his side.”
“Bashar, did you hear that or was that just me?” asked Neale. “Did she say he needs more souls?”
Bashar looked at the cleaver and knife in his hands. It was hopeless. There was nothing he could do. There was no way he could get up there and stop this. Even if he had a way of climbing up Nelson’s Column, he still had to get across the vehicles and several thousand zombies just to get to Trafalgar Square.
Bashar watched helplessly as the witch slowly moved across to Jo. He could see her struggling, but her mouth was firmly closed and she was trapped, stuck upside down high in the air and held there as if in some sort of force field. The witch smiled and drew one of her long, sharp fingernails across Jo’s throat. The flesh opened slowly. Each layer of skin slowly peeled open until the blood began to flow. Jo’s body began to tremble and shake as her neck was slashed. Gallons of blood began to pour over her, covering her head and her tears as it rained down over the assembled zombies below.
Bashar put his hand to his mouth and heard Neale vomit behind him.
The zombies began to rock back and forth, their excitement obvious as the blood from Jo washed over them. Her body hung suspended above the square as she bled out and a grey cloud began to form above the National Gallery. It billowed up quickly and a shadow began to form inside it.
“I can’t watch this,” said Neale.
Bashar looked at Neale as he wiped the remains of the vodka and breakfast from his lips.
“We can’t let this happen to Amelia. We have to do something.”
“What, Bashar? What can we do?” Neale hung his head and looked at the arch. “We should find Tony. This was pointless.”
Bashar turned back to face the square. The witch had gone around to Amelia. The young girl was fighting the invisible constraints that held her and the red-headed woman flying around her seemed to enjoy the look of pain on her face. The woman flew underneath Amelia and the young girl’s tears fell onto the witch’s head.
“A pure soul provides for Him. A pure soul will satisfy Him more than a thousand tainted ones decorated with sin.”
Bashar wasn’t sure if he heard the woman speak out loud, or if the words were in his head, but he knew what was next. Amelia would be sacrificed like her mother.
“Neale, this is real. This is happening. We have to try.” Bashar took the cleaver and hammer, and prepared to run forward to the square. The cloud above the National Gallery had stalled and the shadow inside was twisting and turning as if struggling to break free from a bubble. Bashar knew it was the demon. Its grasp on reality was getting stronger. Perhaps that was why sometimes the sounds stopped. The monster was slipping in and out of their world. The witch was bringing it back, providing it with more souls to feast upon.
“Leave her alone!” Neale charged forward with the breadknife in his hand and a look of determination across his face.
Bashar was shocked but quickly joined him, springing into the road and heading for the line of cars that blocked their way to the column.
The witch appeared surprised at the interjection. As Bashar slid across the bonnet of a black taxi he looked up and saw the woman’s malicious smile. She made a fist with her right hand and pointed it at the swaying crowd of zombies below. She t
hen opened her hand and spread her fingers, at which point the crowd of dead immediately lowered their heads and all turned to look at Bashar and Neale.
“Oh shit.” Neale saw it too. The zombies charged as one, thousands of them rushing toward the two men.
“No, please.” Bashar saw the witch turn back to Amelia and draw a single finger across her neck. The thin line of blood that appeared was enough to hurt her, but not kill her.
Bashar smashed his cleaver through the skull of an advancing zombie. The man dropped down dead and Bashar saw Neale take down two more. But the horde was too much for them. It was too thick. They had no way through and if they stayed where they were, on the periphery of the square, then they would be surrounded. He looked up again at the witch and Amelia.
“Amelia, stay strong, we’ll come for you. Uncle Tony is—”
The witch licked the girl’s blood from her finger and then pulled out a dagger from beneath her black cloak.
“Don’t do it!” yelled Neale. A dead boy clutched at Neale and pulled on his leg. Neale swiftly stabbed his knife through the boy’s temple. “Stop it. Take me instead,” he shouted to the witch. “Take me.”
Bashar shoved a zombie back. The dead man fell to the ground and Bashar plunged his hammer through the man’s forehead. Blood sprayed up at him and he quickly turned to strike another that had been approaching from the side. The moaning crowd of dead was getting closer.
“Neale?” Bashar managed to get closer to him, charging through the amassing zombies.
Neale looked at Bashar. His face was covered in gore. Strips of flesh decorated his shirt and droplets of blood ran down his face. “If she kills Amelia I will not stop until that bitch is dead.”
They looked up at Amelia. The cloud behind her was blooming and the witch was laughing gleefully. With the two men’s attention on her she plunged the dagger into Amelia’s stomach, just below her naval.
“No!” Bashar shoved Neale back as a zombie charged. The cleaver sliced the man’s head off and Bashar looked up again hoping to see that the witch had stopped. Perhaps she would release Amelia and take them instead.