He disappeared up the rope a second time, leaving Lavender standing warily to attention, the circular-saw club in her hands. When he came back, he was holding a section of the steel planking, once part of the framework of the stairs. She looked at him questioningly.
“It will either work, or it won’t” he said. With some effort, he managed to manoeuvre the strip in such a way that it effectively bolted the cage door, going in through one gap in the bars and out the other.
“Let’s get him airborne before he wakes up,” he said, crossing to the ropes for a third time. This time, Lavender went with him.
She had intended to help him haul the cage up, but the handle was too narrow, there was no room for her hands on it too. All she could do was stand aside anxiously as Harris gritted his teeth and turned the wheel, raising the cage, Joel and the steel bar as high as he could. He clicked into place the lock that would not allow the chain to simply unwind and send the cage crashing, then he sagged against the wall, rubbing his hands as if they were on fire. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow. Lavender felt a rush of gratitude towards him. She would tell Carson how helpful and kind both Harris and Bailey had been to her.
She caught her breath, the shock raw and new, the realisation that she would do no such thing washing over her like a cold wave. There was no Carson to tell. The knowledge took with it all her previous enthusiasm to find out if she was right; that these Thinkers were finally facing their own destruction, at their own hands.
She wanted to say, ‘well done,’ but found she was robbed of speech. Dismayed to feel tears prick at her eyes, she turned away.
Harris had seen; of course he had. She felt him rise to his feet behind her. If he offered her any comfort now, any words of kindness or compassion, she was not sure she would be able to hold it together. The one thing she dreaded more than any other was losing control. It made her feel powerless, and that frightened her.
Harris passed her on the gangway, stopping only to gesture at the ridiculous giant cocktail on the wall, “I wish that place was still open,” he said wistfully, “I could really do with a drink.”
He disappeared into the office at the end of the corridor. Absurdly grateful for his diplomacy and understanding, Lavender ducked into the toilets still marked Ladies and cried until her eyes were sore, her soul empty.
*
It was full dark by the time she emerged. No sign of Bailey and Corcoran, no sign of the girls either. From what she could see, Joel was lying unmoving on the floor of the cage. Perhaps Harris had killed him, after all.
Numb, Lavender made her way to the office, pushing open the door to find Harris asleep on the table, a meagre blanket over his shoulders. She shut the door, keen to keep the warm air in. There was nothing else to be done tonight. Even if there was, she had no strength left with which to do it. Sleep seemed the best possible solution to everything right now.
She looked around. Nothing was especially comfortable looking or inviting. She saw a second threadbare blanket draped over the back of a chair. Assuming Harris meant it for her, she picked it up, curled up next to the cupboard where all the weapons were stored, and draped it over her head. Her ears and face warmed instantly by her own breath, she was asleep in seconds.
*
Bailey was nervous. Corcoran kept pace with him no problem, both were carrying weapons, yet Bailey couldn’t shake off the feeling that this little mission was misplaced. Twice he nearly suggested that they turn back, try again in daylight. Twice, he had caught the determination in the boy’s eyes and kept his mouth shut instead. If it had been his father who was missing, he would stop at nothing to find him, too.
They trudged on. They had agreed at the outset to keep talking to a minimum. Bailey didn’t know if it was his imagination, or if zombies did actually prefer to be active at night. Regardless, the less they did to attract unwanted attention, the better.
Which was why, when the low building finally came into their line of sight, Baily did not speak, just put a hand on Corcoran’s shoulder. The boy stopped, turned to face him fully, his expression grave. Bailey put his hand into the inside pocket of his coat to extract a long, curved blade cradled in a leather sheath. He removed the sheath, pocketed it, then looked enquiringly at Corcoran.
The boy nodded, holding up the clawhammer he had been carrying the whole time. Bailey nodded as if in approval, hoping he knew how to use it.
“Stay close to me,” he whispered as they approached the rear of the building.
The bin bay, where Lavender had nearly met her maker, was up ahead. They avoided it, making their cautious way down the gravel path alongside the building. Something thudded into Bailey’s back.
He stopped, surprising Corcoran, who looked around quizzically. Another soft thud. The blows obviously weren’t meant to cause him pain; they were meant to attract his attention.
He looked up, to see the girl, Yasmin, standing at the roof’s edge. She had a snowball in her hands and was switching it from palm to palm to offset the cold. He grinned at up at her, drawing breath to shout up a question.
“No!” Impossibly, Yasmin screamed in a whisper, “Zombie!” She mouthed the word silently, pointing down at the space where Bailey knew the hole in the roof was.
He gave her a thumbs up by way of an okay. Pulling Corcoran in close, he repeated what Yasmin had just said, in case the boy hadn’t seen.
“Zombie, in there,” he gave a flick of his head.
“We need to find another way in?”
“If we can. I want to avoid the hole on the roof if possible, it’s too risky in this poor light,” Bailey’s brow furrowed, thinking furiously.
“You reckon that if we climbed that bin bay and managed to reach the roof, we could shimmy along until we’re clear of the hole? Pull ourselves up that way?”
Bailey smiled, “I reckon it’s worth a try!”
Corcoran’s height worked to his advantage. He reached the ledge of the roof after a frim jump up, which left the increasingly rickety bin bay trembling precariously. Bailey, heavier set, jumped too, though it took him more attempts to make it. Corcoran, wisely, had not stopped to wait but had begun inching his way along the roof edge. He travelled a fair way along, until he was sure he was well clear of the hole. He pulled himself up with Yasmin and Naomi’s help. Bailey followed soon after. When he had caught his breath, he crossed to the far side of the roof, looking out over the park. It lay glittering and peaceful looking under the snow and the gleaming silver stars above.
“Just goes to show you how looks can be deceiving,” he murmured under his breath. Then, louder, “What the hell is that banging?”
Drums
“I don’t suppose you brought food?” Naomi asked hopefully. Bailey shook his head regretfully.
“Sorry girls, you could say we’ve had our hands full. Wasn’t there anything in Joel’s bag?”
“Nothing to eat,” Naomi said scornfully, “Nothing left in the one I stole from him, either,”
Disappointed, Bailey told them all that had happened. How Carson had toppled over the cliff edge to his death, how Drums had gone missing, and that Joel had been bitten.
“Has he turned?” Yasmin asked.
“Is he dead?” Naomi added, a little too enthusiastically.
“Neither,” Bailey was shaking his head, “Lavender has some kind of plan for him. They’ve taken him back to the club,”
“They’ve taken him back? Are they crazy?” Naomi was horrified.
Bailey shrugged, “Maybe, but I don’t think so. Lavender pretty much lost it when Carson died, but I don’t think she’s crazy, no,”
“What’s the plan?”
Bailey shrugged again, “I don’t know. I suppose we’ll find out,”
“You seen any sign of Drums?” Corcoran asked, voicing his concern for his friend. Both girls shook their heads.
“What’s the plan then?” Naomi asked.
“The plan was to get you t
wo off this roof and back to the club, where at least you’ll have some shelter,” Bailey explained.
“And Drums?”
It was Corcoran who answered, “Drums is going to have to survive as best he can. We agreed that if he hadn’t made it back to you before we did, then we head back and look for him again in daylight,” he sounded like he was explaining it to himself as much as anyone else.
“I’m not sure I want to go back knowing Joel is turning, if he hasn’t already,” Naomi said, “he was bad enough as human!”
“If he causes any kind of problem he’ll be despatched pretty damn quick Naomi, don’t worry on that score. The club is a lot safer and a lot warmer than this bloody roof!”
“He’s right,” Yasmin said, “I’m grateful for the jacket Naomi, but it’s still freezing up here.”
Naomi stood, a look of determination on her face, “Right then, let’s get going,” she said.
*
Drums didn’t know which was more numb; his feet or his hands. It felt like he had been walking all night. Conscious that he wasn’t as alert as when he had started out, he was also aware that it didn’t worry him as much as it should. All he wanted was to lie down somewhere safe and close his eyes, let whatever may be, just be.
He had been slogging on, head down. His neck beginning to ache, he looked up, twisting it side to side to relieve the stiffness and knotting there, only to find the low reception building was in front of him.
He had somehow approached it from a different angle, the circuitous route he had taken around the park bringing him out on to the snow-covered gravel drive. He was coming at it as if he had come through the main entrance. The little hut that had housed the huge Thinker was to his right. He made sure to give it a wide berth.
He was faced with a dilemma. From where he was standing it was impossible to tell if anyone was still on the roof. He didn’t want to risk shouting. On top of all that, he was sure he could hear banging coming from somewhere.
He stopped, his breath turning to mist in the icy air. He was fast running out of ideas here. Despair beginning to pierce the protective barrier of numbness that he had allowed to engulf him, he nearly dropped to his knees in relief when a small figure stood up on the roof. It had to be Naomi.
*
“The only way off this roof is down through that hole,” Naomi asserted, surprising herself, “there is a zombie down there, but I don’t think it’s as much of a threat as most are,” She took in the puzzled expressions of Bailey and Corcoran, “here, come and see for yourself.”
She began to lead the way over to the hole, where the mindless figure was still colliding pointlessly and repeatedly with the cabinet, when Corcoran gave a triumphant roar. He was immediately shushed by the rest of the group. Realising his mistake, he had the good grace to look a little contrite, though he was unable to prevent a huge grin from spreading across his face.
“Drums!” he said by way of explanation, pointing ahead. They all followed with their eyes.
“Well I’ll be damned!” Bailey exclaimed softly, “He only went and made it!”
*
Seconds later, Drums could make out four figures on the rooftop, all waving their arms wordlessly at him. Taking their silence as a warning, he gesticulated madly back, scanning the area for a place to bolt to if need be, or something he could use as a weapon. It seemed he hadn’t quite given up on life after all.
There was something narrow and flat lying only half buried in the snow just a few feet ahead, He bent to check it out, disappointed to find it was nothing more than a plank of wood. He tossed it aside in disgust, ready to look for something else, when he saw there were nails protruding from the end. Not the best of weapons, but it was a start. He picked it up, approaching the building cautiously.
The banging noise grew louder as he drew near. There was something annoying about the repetitiveness of the sound. Before he came so close that the four on the roof would be out of his view, he craned his head to look up.
All four of them were lying on their bellies, head down to look at him. He opened his arms wide in a ‘what now?’ gesture.
“Zombie, in there!” Yasmin mouthed at him.
Drums stomach dropped, “Thinker?” he asked with a dry mouth.
Naomi shook her head vigorously no, “Regular kind, a bit messed up. I think you can take him,”
“You do?” Drums was doubtful, “Why?”
“Because his neck is without a doubt broken, his chin is on his chest and he has half a solar panel stuck in the back of his head!” she hissed urgently. The others looked at her in surprise.
“What the fuck?” Bailey rasped. He looked down at Drums, “You reckon you can handle it?”
“With a plank of wood and a couple of nails? No!” Drums was emphatic.
“How about with this? Stand back,”
Drums stepped back hastily. Bailey stood, throwing down an object that spun and glinted in the moonlight, “Careful!” he cautioned, as Drums bent to pick it up.
A curved blade; long, a little spotted with rust yet still obviously lethal. He looked it over closely, getting used to the feel of it in his hands, “You’re sure there’s only one zombie in there? This messed up one?”
“Sure as we can be,” Naomi replied.
“Great,” Drums said to himself. He took a deep breath, then turned to the ruined entrance of the building, “At least while it’s making that racket it won’t be hard to find.”
That the ceaseless pounding did not stop when he stepped into the shadowy room was reassuring. The thing hadn’t yet been alerted to his presence. Drums entered further still, his senses now on full alert.
The space the zombie occupied was illuminated by the pale light of the moon shining down through the gap in the roof. He stood well back, trying to take stock of the strange and gruesome sight before him.
He saw now what she meant when Naomi said the thing’s neck was broken. It seemed miraculous that its head hadn’t yet fallen off completely. Just as she had described, its chin touched its hollow chest, bouncing up off it each time it impacted with the cabinet. There was a jagged shape of something solid wedged firmly into the nape of its neck; the remains of the solar panel. Drums suspected it might actually be holding the head in place. What Naomi hadn’t told him was that the creature had somehow managed to entangle itself in the ladder, getting the wedge of panel stuck between two of the rungs. It scraped noisily across each time the zombie moved.
He took a moment to work out how he was going to use the blade on the thing. He needed to slice through the neck, finish what the panel had begun. That was not going to be easy with both the panel and the ladder in the way of a clean strike.
He was wondering how best to approach it, when the thing gave up its insistent pounding against the cabinet, turning to face him.
Except of course it couldn’t face him, its face directed hopelessly at the ground as it was. Drums flinched, the approaching grotesquery horribly fascinating. It didn’t get far, the ladder catching as it tried to pass through a space to reach him. Undeterred, the zombie continued to move its feet forwards, making no progress whatsoever, the ladder well and truly wedged. It would have been funny had it not been so grim. Drums felt a trace of sadness for what had once been a living soul much like himself.
Then a bony hand flashed out, knocking the blade from his hands. All trace of sympathy evaporated.
“You have to do it!” Bailey urged from above, “We need that ladder to get down!”
“I can’t get to the knife!”
“Then find some other way!”
“Easy for you to say!” Drums retorted. He eyed the abomination a second or two more, then moved, acting more on instinct than on thought.
He grabbed one end of the ladder and twisted, bringing all his strength and weight to bear. The zombie spun in a sharp swing, Drums realising that whilst the move had turned the zombie side-on, it had also freed the ladde
r of any obstruction. There was no question that this stupidly leering thing wasn’t a Thinker, nonetheless Drums wasn’t about to take any chances on it suddenly learning how to sidestep to get to him. Adjusting his grip on the ladder, he tilted it as violently as he could, raising one side parallel with the roof.
He heard a snap as some part of the ladder gave way. His arm jarred as it met with the far more solid construction of the solar panel beneath it. Sensing he should not give up. Drums stood on his tiptoes, gritting his teeth as he brought more pressure down on the fragile neck.
There was a moment of tension, then the neck gave way, in more of a burst than a snap. Drums leapt back, revolted, as a gush of warm, slick liquid erupted from where the head had been. The body slumped backward, finally free of the broken panel, which clattered noisily to the floor. Drums was left holding the gore spattered ladder in mid-air, breathing heavily, nauseated and exhausted.
“Well done!” Bailey congratulated him, “Now, bring that ladder over here,”
Watch and Learn
Harris woke first, his boots landing heavily as he swung from the table, snatching up a weapon from the cabinet and crossing to the door.
Lavender sat up, groggy with sleep, stupid with the need for more. It took a minute to remember where she was, who she was with.
“What is it?”
Harris turned to her, raising a finger to his lips, “Someone’s coming,”
“Jesus!” Lavender scrambled up, her wrist throbbing dully. She was behind Harris in seconds, “Ready when you are,”
He opened the door. There were definite sounds of movement coming from the dancefloor. They approached the end of the corridor together, wary. Lavender was relieved to find that Joel was still incarcerated. He was sitting upright, his back to them. She had no way of knowing how far gone he was or even if his eyes were open.
Whispering below. Some swearing, a muffled exclamation. Figures approached, blending into the gloom as they came nearer, rendering them even more indistinct as shadow overtook them. It was only when one of the ropes shook as someone grasped it that Harris leaned over and said quietly, “Bailey? Is that you?”
Mindless Trilogy (Book 3): Brutal Truths Page 16