Thirteen Roses Book Four: Alone: A Paranormal Zombie Saga (27 page)

The pain didn’t stop and suddenly he longed for the numbness. Krystal leant over the rail and offered him her hands. He grabbed them, pushed up with his legs, and somehow she was pressing his hands onto the rail of the restaurant. He clung to it for a while, taking deep breaths, before he pulled himself up.
 

He rolled over the rail and landed with a thump on the narrow slice of deck. Krystal stood over him, hands on her hips. ‘Any chance you gonna man up any time soon?’

He glared at her, wondering if she’d ever known the kind of pain that was cutting through his legs. She probably had. Still. He sat up and pulled his knees closer, resting his head atop them. She gave him about two seconds.
 

‘Get up. We need to get going.’

‘I need to get dry.’

‘You sound like Ed. Come on.’

She grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet. He hobbled after her, every step sending bursts of agony through his legs. She found an open door and led him into the restaurant. Tables were crammed together and laid beautifully with knives and forks and glasses. And a zombie.
 

He wore chef’s whites and staggered towards them, bumping off tables. Krystal went to meet him and Luke beamed again. She was ready now, for whatever came. She was a couple of tables away when she stopped. He could almost hear her thinking. Then she reached for a wine glass and threw it at the zombie. It broke over him and he shook his head about like a wounded bear.
 

Next she selected a knife, gripped it by the blade, and tossed it at the zombie. She missed. He heard her swear and go for another. This one hit him in the face, handle first and he shook it off again. Luke was about to remind her they were in a hurry when she scurried around the table so there was only one between them. She grabbed the edge of it and rammed it hard towards the zombie.
 

It slammed into his gut and he doubled over, chef’s hat tumbling to the floor. Her sword appeared in her hand and she drove it straight through the top of his head. The chef stiffened and collapsed face first onto the table, then slid to the floor. Without saying a word, Krystal headed for the kitchen on the far side of the boat.
 

Luke was happy to find a chair and sit as his legs went from pure agony to sharp, intermittent stabbing pains. A moment later, Krystal emerged carrying a pair of white trousers and a chef’s top. Luke stared at her as she weaved her way towards him through the tables. She’d gone, in a night, from being a scared sixteen year old to a capable young woman.
 

There was, he supposed, nothing like zombies to bring out the best in someone.
 

‘Get your clothes off.’

Or not. He struggled out of his soaking clothes and stood shivering.
 

‘Get dressed then.’

He pulled on the chef’s trousers and top and felt a little better. ‘What about you?’

‘They’re mostly dry already. Can’t be arsed, there’s nothing in there my size.’

She was already stomping to the door.
 

‘Hang on a minute, can I have a minute, please.’

She turned, eyebrow raised, then came back and sat down. Her shoulders slumped as she put one elbow on the table and he realised why she hadn’t wanted to stop. He wasn’t sure he could get up, but she’d done so much more than him in the last few hours. He heaved himself from his chair, groaning as he put weight on his legs, and patted her shoulder. ‘You saved my life. Thank you.’

She looked up at him through bleary eyes. ‘Whatever. You ready?’

He chuckled and shook his head. Seeing her expression, he nodded. ‘Yes, absolutely, sorry. I was just reflecting on how different you are to when I gave you the rose.’

‘Well, I’m not homeless anymore.’

‘That is very true. And you have a sword.’

She patted it and rose smiling from her seat.
 

Embankment was quieter than usual, only the odd zombie shambling along.
 

‘Where’ve they gone?’ She asked.
 

‘The packs will be finding places to hunt. They’ll come here when other grounds are empty.’

‘They aren’t on the bloody African savannah.’

‘But the logic is the same. They will make packs and hunt down the weaker ones. After that…’ He spread his hands palms up, and shrugged. ‘What happens then? Will they grow in intelligence? In twenty years we could be fighting pitched battles. At the moment the weight of numbers is only a problem if you let them surround you. But give them weapons and it’s another story altogether.’

‘Well aren’t you a bundle of bloody joy. Can we settle for getting back to the hospital tonight?’

They found another bike without much bother, got it started, climbed on, and went searching for a second. A few minutes later they found it. It was a police bike, huge and unwieldy, but with plenty of power. It sounded beautiful when he started it up. He caught Krystal grinning at him. ‘What?’

‘You’re looking different, that’s all. More human.’

He nodded, ignoring the frisson of doubt that ran through him. He didn’t want to feel more human. He didn’t want to lose the edge that meant he could do what he needed to. And he didn’t want to become weak.
 

He was no nearer deciding what he would do with Az and Seph, but he would need his strength and he would need to be ruthless, regardless of which path he chose. He would be fighting either the Father, or two very powerful beings. Either way, the sticky human emotions that were gaining more and more control everyday were bad news.
 

But the bike sounded great. He revved the engine and they set off north, away from the river. He glanced down a side street and saw a pack. It was hard to tell in the gloom, but it looked like twenty or thirty zombies gathered around something on the floor. They were listening, silent in the dark of the alleyway, and his skin crawled.
 

They bypassed St Paul’s. They needed to go back there soon. They would need to recharge their remaining devices and he wanted to know what the soldiers of God were doing. Without their own devices, they were trapped in the cathedral, tied to the machine. But how long would that last? He had the feeling Az or Seph had ordered them to leave Luke’s group and the ladies alone, in an effort to keep him sweet, but they would be growing impatient.
 

There was so much he didn’t know. The future was empty of anything except running and zombies and doubt. He hated it, and the very fact that he could find hate within himself frightened him. Nothing was worth hating. Hate got in the way and confused things, but he couldn’t drive the panic from his mind when he thought about what lay ahead.
 

So he would go back to St Paul’s before they left. But first he would go to the hospital and sleep. Krystal too. Her bike weaved a little more than it needed to and he imagined she was almost dead on her feet. They reached the road that ran past the hospital and as the building came into view, lights streaming from the windows, they accelerated.
 

Perhaps if they hadn’t, they would have had time to slow or even stop, when Bayleigh appeared from the darkness. But they didn’t. Krystal reacted first and did what turned out to be the best thing. She twisted the handlebars and the bike went out from under her.
 

She hit the road and slid as the bike shot away, drawing sparks from the concrete. He didn’t see what happened next because he was already past. And that was when the trap closed. One moment the street was filled with zombies wandering aimlessly. The next they were bearing down on him, arms outstretched to drag him from his bike.
 

Bayleigh

She heard the bikes and sweat sprung up on her forehead despite the chill air. She had to warn them before they got too close. She dashed from hiding and swore as they appeared in the darkness, headlights like fireflies as they weaved back and forth around the cars. They were going so fast. How were they not hitting anything?

She ran towards them, skirting the trap and into the middle of the road. They saw her but were already too near. One of the bikes went down and slid towards her, throwing sparks into the air. The rider was left behind and swallowed by the darkness. The other bike kept going and drove straight into the trap.
 

Bayleigh screamed as the zombies closed in. The first, briefly illuminated by the headlamp, was crushed beneath the front wheel. Then hands dragged the rider off and the bike twisted and flipped through the air. She caught a flash of white and a police sign before the bike came thundering down.
 

Her eyes, though, were already on the rider. It had to be Luke, it was too big to be Krystal. He thrashed around within the circle of zombies but she was already moving, charging towards him. She glanced at the knife in her hand and almost stopped. But before she could, she was there.
 

The first zombie she reached got the knife in the back of the skull. It dug deep and she heaved. It was like pushing a knife through cooked meat. She yanked it free and leapt over the falling corpse.
 

The street lights gave just enough for her to see Luke, still with his helmet on, and now on his feet. He’d even drawn his sword, but there was no room to swing it. She gave her full attention to the next zombie. They hadn’t spotted her yet and this one she stabbed in the ear. She felt things crack as she drove it home and bile burnt the back of her throat.
 

Another one down and plenty more to go. The next realised she was there and turned, taking her blade straight through the eye. It was far easier, so long as she didn’t look at the ruined eyeball leaking over the blade. Warmth spread down her fingers as the juice from the eyeball spread onto them. She blocked it out, blocked out everything except the next zombie.
 

This one was ready, its hands outstretched and flailing. And blocking her blow. She hammered at its left arm, digging the blade into the soft flesh until something gave way and the arm dropped useless to its side. The zombie grabbed for her with the other arm but she leant to the side and stabbed it in the cheek.
 

The blow wasn’t clean and went nowhere near its brain. It twisted and the movement nearly yanked the blade from her hand. She clung on and the knife came free. She stabbed again. This time she didn’t have the power and it lodged momentarily in the creature’s skull. Its clawed hand slammed across the side of her head and she staggered.
 

Bayleigh’s feet caught on the corpse behind her and she fell, landing on something soft. On either side of her, wide-eyed corpses stared, the smell of rot like a shield around them. She couldn’t handle this. She kicked out and flailed with her hands, feeling as clumsy as a zombie as her instincts took over. But they were the wrong instincts. She couldn’t get out until the creature leaning over her was dead. Its weight landed on her legs. She wasn’t going to get out of here.
 

Something bright struck the zombie just above the ear and the next moment it was missing the top of its head. As loose brain matter trickled down its face, it toppled to one side. Krystal offered her a hand and Bayleigh scrambled to her feet.
 

‘You saved my life.’

‘Lots of that going round today. You alright?’

Bayleigh nodded and hefted her knife. ‘Is he still alive?’

Krystal didn’t answer. She was already wading through the circle of zombies. Only they no longer surrounded Luke. More and more of them were turning to fix their eyes on Krystal. Bayleigh frowned and stared at the girl. One of the zombies moved and for a second Krystal was lit by the street lights. Her left leg was covered in blood, her trouser leg completely torn away.
 

Bayleigh shook her head, the sweat that covered her going cold. She shivered and leapt forward, driving her knife into the foremost zombie’s face. Krystal shouted something and attacked, sword flashing in the night.
 

Luke joined with them, his own sword covered in blood. The three of them stood in a circle, shoulder to shoulder, and Bayleigh felt like an actor in a movie, the Three Musketeers or something. Then a claw got through and Krystal’s face started to bleed. Bayleigh slipped on something and her knee landed so hard she couldn’t put weight on it.
 

‘Time’s up. Come with me.’

Luke sounded so matter of fact she didn’t pause to wonder how he thought they were going anywhere. She grabbed his sleeve and he dragged her along. Claws grabbed at her but she ducked and twisted and they fell away. Krystal was right beside her, sword still flicking this way and that. She only took a few steps before she emerged from the crush. Of the zombies that had attacked from the trap, the vast majority were slain, lying in piles on the concrete. Beyond them, the street was peaceful.
 

They took another few steps before Bayleigh sunk to the ground, followed by Krystal. A number of zombies were still up, but they were digging greedily into the corpses of their pack mates. Bayleigh sat beneath the streetlights and watched a zombie chew the lips off another, then dig its fingers into the half-exposed mouth to pull out the tongue.
 

All she could think was how glad she was that Layla was properly dead and not out there, doing the same thing. She wouldn’t think about Ali at all. She couldn’t. Luke hauled her up and pointed at the hospital. With a grunt, she followed him and they staggered through the front doors.
 

The reception area was littered with dead zombies, but there was no sign of Ed or Alex among them. She was halfway up the stairs when Alex appeared at the top and she staggered, smacking one knee against a step. She heaved herself up and kept going.
 

He caught her at the top and wrapped his arm around her, helping her stagger down the corridor. She glanced back and saw, as they reached the top of the stairs, Luke scoop Krystal up in his arms and carry her down the corridor. She muttered something, batting at him with arms like a rag doll’s, but he ignored her.