“Yes. I got it.”
“And did you see Amelia? Is she safe?”
“She’ll be fine, Josh. Don’t worry.”
I sit next to him and pull the bandage up a little to inspect the bite. There’s a mixture of dried blood around the teeth marks. The veins in Josh’s hand have started to turn black. Not a good sign. I roll his sleeve up all the way to his shoulder. Pulling out the injection gun from my vest, I clip the antiviral bottle onto the top. Can’t quite believe I’m about to give a nine-year-old boy an injection. What if I miss? Hit a nerve, or an artery or something?
That’s the least of my worries!
“Is it gonna hurt?” he asks, looking up at me, his eyes vast with dread.
I shake my head. “Only a little sting. Nothing to worry about. And it’ll be over in a second.”
He nods his head and closes his eyes tightly.
Trying to keep my quivering hand from shaking, I stick the tiny needle into the flesh of his upper arm, and then push the white trigger. Trying to ignore the sobs coming from Josh’s mouth, I focus on the liquid quickly disappearing from the bottle. I carefully pull out the needle and put the gun on the table. “Well done, buddy. All over.”
Josh opens his eyes, wipes the tears away and sniffs hard. “That hurt a lot, Cath.”
“I’m sorry. But it’s finished now.”
“Will you still have to cut my hand off?”
“No, of course not. We’ll just have to wait a little to see if it’s worked.”
“But what if it doesn’t?”
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. All right?”
“Okay.”
“Good boy.”
Getting up off the chair, I make my way over to the sink and pour two glasses of water. Still exhausted, I swallow it in one, and then return to the table and give Josh the other. He takes a sip and starts to unroll his sleeve.
“How are you feeling, buddy?” I ask, placing my palm over his forehead to feel for a temperature. “Any fever?”
“No.”
“Well, you’re not burning up, so that’s a good sign.
“When’s Amelia coming back?”
“I’m sure she won’t be long,” I reply, trying desperately to conceal the worry I feel swirling around my stomach. “She’ll be fine.”
Will she? I don’t know. Maybe. She’s pretty strong. And clever. Plus, she probably knows these streets better than most.
“She told me to keep an eye out for you in the kitchen,” he continues, “while she looked from my bedroom window.”
“What, she went upstairs on her own? After what happened earlier?”
He nods.
“Bloody hell, your sister’s something else.”
“She’s not scared of anything.”
“I don’t doubt it. She’s pretty brave. Much braver than me.”
“And me.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. You’ve been through a lot tonight, too. How’s your hand?”
“It stings. But it’s not that bad. It’s not as bad as when I sprained my wrist.”
“Oh, that sounds painful,” I say, eyes fixed on the blackened veins, waiting, praying for them to disappear. “How did you manage that then?”
“I fell.”
“Really. From where?”
“At school. One of the boys from my class pushed me down the stairs by the corridor.”
“That’s awful. Why did he do that?”
“Because he’s a bully—and bullies don’t like foster kids. They used to call me a scrubber and they’d kick me under the table at lunchtime. They’re horrible.”
“So what happened to the bully? Did you tell the teacher?”
“No. I couldn’t. He said he’d kill my sister if I told my teacher or my foster parents. And then I’d have nobody left to look after me.”
“He sounds like a rotten little boy. So what happened then?”
“Nothing. He said sorry to me a few days later.”
“Really! How come?”
“Well, he didn’t say anything about not telling Amelia. So she went down to where he lives, which is not that far from here, and punched him in the nose. She told him that if he ever touched me again she’d kill his parents instead. And then he’d be a foster kid, too.”
I can’t help but laugh. Even with everything that’s going on. “Well, as much as I don’t condone violence,” I lean into him and whisper, “it sounds like the little shit deserved it.”
“Definitely.”
20
Josh has been sleeping for the past fifteen minutes. I wish I could take him up to his bed, but Michael’s twitching remains are still up there. Instead, I’ve pushed two kitchen chairs together, and thrown a coat over him to keep him warm.
Why is he sleeping?
Hard to tell if it’s the antiviral taking effect.
Or the virus.
I pray it’s the former as I watch the back door for Amelia to return. It’s already been too long. Where the hell is she? I feel the need to look for her but can’t possibly leave Josh alone.
Shouldn’t have left Michael up there on the landing. Maybe I’ll drag what’s left of him into one of the other rooms. Josh’ll be okay on his own for a few minutes.
I put my palm softly on his forehead; there’s no fever. That’s something at least.
“Amelia?” Josh croakily asks, his eyes half-open.
“Try to sleep,” I whisper. “She’ll be home soon enough. I’m sure of it.”
“Why hasn’t she come back yet?”
“She’s probably waiting for the right moment.”
“Why?”
I shush him like a baby, stroking the top of his head. “Try not to worry; she’s a clever girl.”
He closes his eyes. I watch him for a minute or two until I’m certain he’s fallen back to sleep. Quietly getting up off my chair, I make my way out of the kitchen and into the hallway. As I pass the living room door, I glance inside at the empty room, once host to their foster parents. I notice the lock; it’s broken completely off, taking with it some of the doorframe. Visions of Juliet in the bedroom, biting Josh’s hand, flood my mind. I see myself sticking the knife into her eye; it sends a cold quiver of repulse through me.
What’s to stop her breaking out again?
She’s clearly more than capable.
No, she isn’t. She probably had Michael’s help the first time. There’s no way she could have done that on her own.
Could she?
I climb the stairs and reach the landing. My heart shudders when I see Michael’s remains, still convulsing, nails scratching at the carpet. I try not to look at his face—what’s left of it. It’s too much, even after everything that’s happened today. Without a second thought, I pull out two cable-ties from my vest, and secure his limbs. I don’t bother with the muzzle; he no longer has a mouth. I drag his moving corpse into Amelia’s bedroom. There are worse places to leave a Nec—but not many.
I close the door and return to the landing.
“Shit,” I mutter when I hear the back door slamming shut. “Josh! Wait! Don’t go out there!”
I race down the stairs, towards the kitchen, my stomach churning at the thought of him outside alone—injured.
Sick.
Turned?
“Josh!” I shout as I burst into the kitchen.
“She’s home!” Josh says, hugging his sister tightly as she catches her breath. “She made it! She’s safe!”
I gasp with relief.
Just to see her face again, in one piece, makes me almost want to cry my heart out. But I don’t, instead I go to her, take her by the hand and bring it up to my chest. “Thank God you’re safe.”
Still struggling to breathe, Amelia sits down at the table.
I quickly fill up a glass of water and hand it to her. “I don’t know if you’re crazy, stupid, or brave—but what you did out there was beyond belief.”
“Thanks,” she manages to say
between gulps of water.
“That’s not a compliment,” I reply, shaking my head. “You could’ve been killed. What the hell were you thinking? You’re just a kid.”
“This kid was busy trying to save my brother’s life. And yours. If I hadn’t distracted those Necs, you would have never got back in one piece.”
“But what if they’d caught you?”
“But they didn’t. They were pretty slow. Most of them anyway.”
I go quiet for a moment, unable to think of anything worthwhile to add.
“Look,” Amelia continues. “I don’t care about how stupid I was; all I care about is my brother.” She reaches over and takes hold of Josh’s wounded hand. “Did you get the antiviral?” She peels back the bandage.
“Careful, Amelia,” Josh says, pulling his hand away. “It still hurts.”
“We need to see it,” I tell him. “Otherwise we won’t know if the medicine worked.”
Josh slowly begins to unravel the blood-soaked bandage, revealing the bite mark.
“Is it better?” Josh asks, a slight whimper in his voice. “Am I gonna turn into one of those things outside?”
A huge smile of relief covers my face when I see that the blackened veins have vanished. “I think you’re going to be fine,” I reply. “You haven’t been sick, and you don’t have a fever. It looks like it worked.”
Amelia grabs his arm, pulling his hand up to her face. “Let me see.” Instead of smiling, she lets out a drawn-out groan. “Oh thank God,” she says, pulling him in for a hug. “Don’t scare me like that again. Okay?”
“Okay, sis. I promise.”
I watch them for a moment, letting their love for each other take me away from this nightmare. I almost want to cry.
But I’ve cried enough today.
I pull up a chair next to her. “So what happened out there? You were gone for so long. Josh has been worried sick. We both were.”
“Well,” she takes another sip of water, “after they chased me down the street, I hid behind a car, and then when they’d passed me, I made my way back up the lane. But the middle of the lane was packed with Necs, ten, maybe fifteen, so I had to wait in one of the gardens. I stayed in a shed until the coast was clear.”
“That sounds pretty horrible,” Josh says. “So they didn’t bite you then?”
Amelia snorts. “What, me? As if. They’d have to catch me first.”
“Jesus Christ,” I say. “And I thought I was a hard ass.”
“Foster kids have to be tough. Isn’t that right, bro? We don’t take crap from anyone.”
Josh nods proudly.
“So are you sure you managed to give those Necs the slip?” I ask.
“Yeah. Of course. They were easy. Dumb as cows. I just climbed over—”
Suddenly the glass panel of the back door shatters, spraying shards all over the kitchen floor.
“Oh, shit!” I scream as I watch a pack of Necs scramble through the opening, foaming dripping from their ravenous jaws.
“Ruuuuuuuun!”
21
The house is alive with growls of the dead.
Inside the hallway, I barge open the kitchen door and hold it shut, the weight of multiple Necs scratching and pushing behind it.
“What are we going to do?” Amelia screams; Josh is holding onto her arm, tears streaming down his cheeks. “There’s too many of them!”
“We need to get out of this house,” I say, with no time to weigh up a real plan. “Open the front door, Amelia.”
Eyes wide with terror, she slowly pulls it open, but then is jolted backwards, taking her brother with her, as a dead-man tries to enter the house. I have no choice but to let go of the kitchen door and race over to help. I push the front door shut, trapping the Nec half inside. “Get upstairs!” I scream. “Now!”
The hallway starts to fill with a small army of Necs from the kitchen. I release the front door and then bolt up the stairs.
On the landing, I see Amelia holding a long wooden stick with a hook on the end, trying to reach the attic hatch on the ceiling. “Leave it!” I shout. “There’s no time!”
“No! It’s the safest place! Just keep them back!”
With no time to argue, I start to kick out at the Necs climbing the stairs, using the banister and opposite wall for support. “Hurry up!”
“Nearly got it.”
One of my kicks misses a female’s face, so I grab both her wrists and push her hard. She plummets down the stairs, taking three other rotters with her. I hear the sound of the attic hatch opening. Turning, I see a thin metal ladder materialise on the landing.
“Come on, Cath!” Amelia calls out as they race up into the ceiling. I follow closely behind. Halfway up, I feel the grip of a Nec on my ankle. I kick out wildly, managing to free my leg. But more and more are coming up the staircase, filling the landing. I race into the darkness of the attic and try to pull up the ladder, but the heft of bodies from below is too much.
“Pull it up!” Amelia shouts from behind me.
“I can’t!” I reply as I drive a boot into a female Nec as she tries to climb. “There’s too many of them!”
“Throw something at them!” Josh yells.
Reaching blindly to my side, I feel a large box. It’s heavy, so I drag it along the floor until it drops down the ladder, hitting the Nec in the face, splitting her nose like a piece of wood. Amelia slides a second box towards me, and I push it off. It slams into the chest of a Nec, propelling him off the ladder and into another rotter. With the ladder clear of bodies, I start to retract it fast. I struggle past the clutches from reaching Necs, but only for a moment. And then the groans become muffled sounds when the ladder is up, and the hatch clicks shut.
And then complete and utter darkness.
Body trembling, still in a state of shock, I breathe heavily through my nostrils, waiting, praying for some great escape plan to suddenly appear.
“Where’s the light switch?” I hear Josh whisper.
“I don’t know,” Amelia answers. “There should be a pull-string somewhere.”
I reach about in the blackness until I feel a thin string hanging just in front of me. I pull it and the attic lights up. I scan my surroundings quickly, looking to see if the floor is safe to walk on. It’s not. There are various sized boxes, filled with board games, toys, Christmas decorations, and other neglected junk, some rolled-up insulation wool, and a wedding dress, hanging from a ceiling hook, covered in a thin, protective plastic. “Stay on the wooden beams, kids,” I whisper. “Or you’ll fall through the floor. It’s not safe up here.”
Josh nods as he puts his legs completely onto a thick beam. “What do we do now?”
“We wait,” I tell him.
“For what?”
“For help to come.”
Amelia crawls along the beam to her brother. “There’s no help coming. It’s just us—and them.”
“Stop it, Amelia,” I whisper loudly. “Help is coming. We just have to be patient. Those Necs will leave when they’re hungry enough.”
“But they know we’re up here,” Josh says. “They’ll wait for us.”
“They’ll soon forget,” I reply. “As long as we stay quiet.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, buddy. We’ll be all right up here. Safest place in the house. Your sister saved us again.”
“I didn’t save anyone,” Amelia says, coldly, her eyes down on her brother’s injured hand. “I brought them here, to the house. They followed me.”
“Don’t be silly,” I reply. “None of this is anyone’s fault. We’re all just stuck in the middle of a nightmare, and we need each other to get through it. So I don’t want to hear about any blaming. Okay?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Okay?” I repeat—firmer this time—but still whispering.
After a few seconds, she looks up at me and nods. “Okay.”
“Good. Now let’s just stay together and we’ll be all right.”
“Amelia, you left the hook on the landing,” Josh points out, his tone filled with worry. “What if they use it to get the ladder down?”
“Don’t worry, bro,” she replies. “They may be fast, but they ain’t smart. Well, not that smart.”
Josh nods, grasping his sister’s arm tightly, the fear engraved in his eyes—eyes that have seen way too much horror for a lifetime, let alone a day.
There is a small hole by the hatch. I peer through it and look down onto the landing. The entire floor and stairs are teeming with the dead, some just wandering around aimlessly, while others stare up at the hatch with confused, bitter expressions. And it’s only going to get worse with the front and back doors exposed. There’s no way we’re getting out of here anytime soon. We’ll have to just sleep up here, for days if that’s what it takes. Hopefully it won’t get too cold.
I look around the attic for something soft for us to lie on. Maybe an old sleeping bag, or a sack of clothes. I stand up on the beam, holding onto the roof for balance, and then make my way over to the largest box I can see.
“Where are you going?” Josh asks.
“I’m just looking for something to sit on. These wooden beams are uncomfortable. We may be up here a while.”
“Why don’t you use the wedding dress?” he suggests, pointing over to it.
“Good idea, Josh.”
“Can I help?”
“No, it’s all right, buddy. Just stay close to your sister. We can’t have too much movement up here; it might agitate them.”
“Okay, Cath.”
Reaching the dress, I tear off the dusty, plastic cover and stare at the stunning white gown for a moment, unable to see anyone other than the infected-version of Juliet wearing it. Should I leave it here? Out of respect?
Don’t be so stupid.
She’s dead. She doesn’t need it. Her foster kids are more important.
I unhook the dress and drag it over to him. I lay it over a beam. “Here, Josh. It’s not ideal but it’s better than nothing.”
“Thanks, Cath,” he says as he climbs onto it. “It’s comfortable.”
“Great,” I reply. “I’ll find you something too, Amelia.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she says. “I don’t need anything. I’ll be fine.”
The Zombie Saga (Book 2): Burn The Dead (Purge) Page 14