A Little Undead (5 page)

“
Nonsense, let me drive
you to the hospital, we can call your house on the way,” said
Bruce. “Your mother is probably worried sick about you, and
the captain would be upset if I didn't take proper care of our new
intern.”

“
Intern?” I
bristled, a wave of electricity passing under my skin as a tendril of
rage forced itself to attention through the pain. “I'm a
police officer, just like you. Stop treating me like I'm just some
kid.”

Bruce cocked his head slightly,
and I could tell Fred wasn't quite as oblivious to our conversation
as he was pretending to be. I could see his curiously cut mustache
twitch despite his otherwise stolid facade. “Sure thing,”
said Bruce.

I knew I shouldn't try and
argue; it always made me seem even younger than normal. It was just
that being talked down to all the time was so infuriating. This job
was supposed to be a new start, a place where I could finally make a
name for myself as someone besides the sister of Miss Perfect. I
wasn't jealous, really, but being consistently mistaken for the
younger sister of the up-and-coming physics prodigy had a tendency to
grate as the years went by. “What, you don't believe me? I'm
older than I look you know.”

“
You would have to be,”
said Fred.

'Unbelievable…'
My
hands began to shake. I wasn't sure if it was rage or my exertions
and injuries catching up to me, but I was through playing nice.
“Just call me a cab or I'll take my chances walking home.”
I was sincerely regretting not owning a cellphone.

“
Take it easy,” said
Bruce, pressing on my shoulder as I attempted to stand. “I
suppose if you don't want to go to the hospital we can't force you.”

By the time he finished the call
I had managed to wrap both my feet with enough gauze and tape that
hardly a speck of skin was showing below the knee. “Don't
forget to ask about what happened to her,” commented Fred. He
hadn't even looked up from his paperwork, casually putting me on the
spot without a care in the world. I just
knew
he was doing it
out of curiosity rather than strict adherence to police procedure.
'Somehow I suspect telling them I bit a guy who then turned into a
wolf and chased me through the streets would put me on the shortlist
for a pink slip – shortly followed by a trip to the asylum. At
least Alex looked too comfortable in his wolf form for me to be
guilty of turning
him
into a werewolf for the first time. With a little luck this will all
blow over.'

The friendly, concerned
atmosphere that had surrounded me until that point dissipated into an
awkward, inquiring silence. Well, I had to say something, didn't I.
“A pair of muggers nearly got me but I managed to get away.”
I could tell they wanted more, but I didn’t make it through
high school English without learning how to make up nonsense on the
spot. “They were both about five ten. I didn't get a look at
their faces, they were both wearing black hoodies.”
'The
sort of utterly uninformative garbage that no doubt gives cops
headaches across the world. I'm going to just
love
the karmic backlash for this.'

“
I see.” Bruce's
mouth seemed to twist a little as he took another glance at the long
cut on my leg, his gaze lingering a little too long for comfort as if
trying to pierce the gauze covering and determine the wound's true
source. “Some parts of the neighborhood are dangerous at night,
even for cops. You should try not to travel alone.”

I hadn't been alone, of course,
but telling him about the violent breakup would probably give him the
idea I was on the market again. Which I wasn't. Really. From here on
it was Julie time. I had a new job, was out of my parent's house, and
apparently had a supernatural world that needed discovering. A new
boyfriend could come later, trouble-causing things that they were. I
was just fine as I was. “Live and learn, I suppose.” And
then there was silence. The too-loud turning of pages by Fred of the
twitching mustache. The hum of a motor.
'Finally.'
Fending off
the obligatory offers of assistance and casting a suspicious eye at a
few nearby bushes where predators could be lurking I made my way to
the taxi.

It wasn't until I stepped into
the fresh air that I placed the scent that had been tickling my nose.
Marijuana. Faint but still recognizable on Bruce's hands, though
not his breath. It was an expensive drug these days, too expensive
to make a habit out of on a policeman's salary. It was probably just
residue from taking in someone for possession or trafficking.

“
Where you headed, miss?”
The fellow seemed a bit put off by my injuries. I was half certain he
even went so far as to examine my footsteps to make sure I wasn't
dripping blood. I suppose it was a reasonable action, bloodstains not
generally being a big selling point outside of haunted houses.
Either that or he was checking for bites. It wouldn't be the first
time someone joined the ranks of the undead in the back of a cab,
generally to the detriment of the cabbie.

“
Fifty-five Ash Street.”
Leaves rustled in the darkness beyond the headlights' reach.
'It’s
just the wind, or maybe a rabid horde of squirrels. Alex probably ran
off by now to avoid Animal Control.'
I locked the doors to either
side of me when the driver wasn't looking – just in case. The
cabby was thankfully not the talkative sort. While no doubt curious
about how I'd gotten my injuries he must have picked up on the fact I
was dead tired. Hopefully not literally on the whole “dead”
thing. Pressing a hand to my chest I felt a comforting heartbeat,
skin still alive and warm to the touch. I also felt the twenty-cred
bill I hid in my bra that was now the only cash I had on me.

'Not cool. If he doesn't mail
me my purse I'm suing, werewolf or not.'
That brought to mind an
important thought:
'Werewolves don't exist, I saw Alex turn into a
wolf, and therefore, I must be insane.'
Rational logic was
obviously not my friend. Maybe chocolate ice cream and denial would
suit me better?
'Though it would be murder to my hips – and
my wallet.'
The memory of the
blonde barista at frozen goods store bubbled up, yet another unsolved
mystery. Penny I had called her, but she never told me her name.
It was too much to think about now. My lost memories were like fish
in a river, always just out of reach and darting away whenever I went
to grab them. Whatever familiarity I felt with her was probably just
an illusion. It was hardly as if my memories had never betrayed me
before. In the early days after the accident I would look at my
sister and it would be like seeing a stranger, yet other times I
would turn around to look for her as if I was used to her never
leaving my side. '
Haven wasn't all that friendly, but I
swear it was never this stressful.'

The car slowed to a stop,
traffic light glowing an angry red against the dark.
'Argh.
There's no helping it. Tomorrow after work I need to research
mythical creatures of darkness.'
I held my breath as the light
seemed to last unnaturally long. In a city on the verge of becoming
a true metropolis things shouldn't be this quiet, nighttime or not. I
had a brief thought that I might be forgetting something important
but as the cab slid forwards without incident the last bit of nervous
energy in my system finally gave in to my body's demand for sleep.

The door rattled, fist after
unflinching fist hammering the wood with murderous fury. From the
narrow window I watched as dozens of rotters shuffled onto the
grounds. Only a few red-eyes were attacking the door, awoken early
from their slumber in the shadows, but with night falling more would
be quick to follow. Fellow survivors were few and far between now,
but food was so much scarcer. When Zach led our group to a hospital
to search for food I said nothing. I knew it would be a deathtrap,
but what wasn't these days? I was so terribly, mind-numbingly
hungry.

“
Bob, hurry up
already!” hissed Zoe. A dirty, shaggy-haired man writhed on
the operating table, foaming at the mouth as he bit down on a folded
cloth. Bob's hand shook, bone-saw wavering like a leaf as he stared
at the blood dripping from the blade. “You're worthless. Hold
him down, I'll do it.” Grabbing the saw she resumed the cut,
pushing on despite the man's screams. He'd never told us his name,
and he was scruffy enough that he was probably homeless even before
Manhattan turned into Hell on Earth. Zach kept his bloodshot eyes on
the door as he helped Bob hold the luckless man down.

His leg fell to the floor
with a sodden thump. The bite on its inflamed flesh stood out
clearly, black veins spider-webbing out from the rot-filled
punctures. It was a rotter bite. A feral or red-eye bite and
sometimes antibiotics were enough if you were quick, but a rotter's
touch was death. I crept closer, cloak obscuring my form as I
crawled through the shadows to the operating table. My arm
stretched, fingers probing the dead flesh of the severed leg.

The man's screaming stopped
abruptly. “Shit!” said Bob. “Is he dead?”

“
Why don't you stick
your ear near his mouth and find out if he's still breathing,”
replied Zoe caustically.

I was so hungry. The leg
just sat there in my hands, dripping blood from the stump ever so
slowly. He was done with it, wasn't he? They couldn't reattach it,
and he was probably dead anyways. I'd eaten raw pigeon before, and
meat was meat, wasn't it?

I looked upwards, eyes
peering from beneath my blue hood. Zoe drew her knife to end our
former companion and seeing that she hadn't noticed me I took a
cautious bite. Sickly-warm and gritty, I nonetheless felt my eyelids
flutter and mouth water as my body recognized food after so long
without.

“
Thunk.
”
The tip of an axe blade thudded through the door, sending Bob into
hysterics. It must be a red-eye, rotters and ferals weren't smart
enough. Besides, a feral didn't need an axe to bring down a wooden
door.

“
We're all going to die
in here!”

“
Jesus, Bob, keep it
together.” Zoe's eyes flicked between our unstable traveling
partner and the rapidly failing barrier against the undead.

“
Ahhh! He bit me, the
bloody wanker actually bit me!” Zach stared at his hand, eyes
unfocused and wild. A gobbet of flesh hung from the revived homeless
man's mouth. Rushing the newborn zombie he wrapped his hands around
his neck, futilely attempting to strangle him. Long before we could
learn whether such a thing was even remotely possible Zoe's knife
shinked
into the
zombie's skull. Reversing her hold she pulled out the blade and sent
it slamming through Zach's temple, grabbing his pistol before he hit
the ground.

“
Bob, grab the girl,
we're done here.” Two shots fired from her newly acquired gun,
shattering the window-pane.

He stepped around the table
and I could feel him watching me. I tried to stop, to put away the
arm, to pretend I was just an innocent girl again, but I was so
hungry. “Lord have mercy, she's one of them.” Bob
fumbled for his knife, gun long empty of ammo.

My eyes met Zoe's, the
disgust and hatred in her eyes so profound I couldn't bring myself to
speak even as the mouth of her gun slowly tilted towards me.

“
Thwack
.”
The door blew open, splinters flying as it crashed against the
doorstop. Bullets rang out, cacophonous metallic fury laying the
frontrunners low. Behind them stood a shambling army. Eyes flicking
down the dark hallway I saw it, the death-bringer that was a feral.
Its path carried it along walls and across the shoulders of rotters,
dark claws ripping through anything they touched as it sprinted on
all fours. Zoe's last bullet took down the red-eye, but not before
his axe thudded into Bob's shoulder. Zoe heard the feral then and
ceased all efforts to grab more ammo from Zach's still-cooling body.
Her hair billowed as she ran for the window. Grasping his wounded
shoulder in a death-grip, Bob was only a step behind but Zoe's heel
snapped into his chest. He gasped for breath but the mob was upon
him and suddenly his insides weren't on the inside any more.

My heart fluttered as I awoke,
jaw aching as my teeth stretched out ever so slowly. I could smell
the cab driver, I realized. Underneath the stench of tobacco smoke
was the same raw scent of blood, hints of its flavor seeping through
his skin. It must have been what caused that terrible dream. I
needed to get a grip on myself, I wasn't a child anymore to be
hounded by nightmares. Besides, I had enough junk to deal with in
the waking world.

Grabbing the twenty from my bra
I practically threw it at him, not trusting myself to touch his hand
after my reaction to Bruce. Leaving him the change as an exorbitant
tip I tried not to cringe at how little money that left me. I
shuffled my way up the stairs as fast as my bandage-wrapped feet
would take me, grabbing the spare key as I went from where I'd hidden
it in a crack in the wall.

By the time my first paycheck
came through I'd probably be reduced to eating buttered noodles to
keep from starving.
'Or human blood,'
came a fleeting,
traitorous thought. Shaking my head quickly to clear it I let
myself fall backwards onto the bed, showers and bedclothes be damned.
Salt and grit clung to my skin and hair but as exhausted as I was it
no longer mattered. I drew up the covers to my ears, a heartfelt moan
of pleasure escaping me as the pressure in my feet finally eased. I
couldn't quite muster the energy to be annoyed that I'd left the
light on.