Thirteen Roses Book Four: Alone: A Paranormal Zombie Saga (23 page)

Bayleigh tried to imagine what her face looked like before the plague got her, but she couldn’t see it being much different. The zombie paused and spotted her, grimacing to show a set of surprisingly good teeth. It shuffled across the concrete towards her and Bayleigh stepped back into the alley.
 

She couldn’t kill an old lady, she just couldn’t. But it wasn’t an old lady any more. It had been, but now it was a zombie.
 

She stepped back further, leading her into the alleyway. The creature - she had to think of it as a creature - came on, one hand leaving its bag to claw for her. Bayleigh hauled the knife from her waist band and set her feet.
 

There was something horribly comical and grotesque about it. It was like kicking one of those small, pointless dogs people had. Or used to have. But she couldn’t miss the teeth that flashed in the dim light. She glanced at her knife. Last one. She wanted to keep this.
 

She jumped, trying to make it as sudden as possible to give the zombie no warning. She slammed the knife straight into the side of the old woman’s head. There was a brief moment as she pulled it out when the woman turned to her and she thought she saw normal, human eyes that pleaded with her and asked why she’d killed her.
 

 
Then she fell into the darkness, her skull cracking against the stone. Bayleigh swallowed the saliva that filled her mouth and knelt to wipe her knife on the old woman’s clothing. Her bag had fallen as well and she found herself opening the lid. She flapped it shut, staggered away into the darkness and lost her lunch.
 

When the retching stopped, she slid the knife into her belt and headed away from the dead zombie and the bag. There were some things she could never un-see and never forget, no matter how hard she tried.
 

She dashed out into the street and headed for the hospital. She was so desperate to be away from the hell that existed out here on the streets, she almost ran straight into the trap. She spotted a zombie turning and staggering back the same way he’d come and with the lit hospital windows above, she realised where she was.
 

She did a u-turn, feet sliding across the tarmac as she changed direction. She knew how close she’d come because moments later a zombie wandered in from the opposite direction and was torn apart, metres from where she’d stopped. She picked up a couple of pursuers, more ambitious zombies trying to keep up. She raced away, doing a lap of the block before returning to the trap from the other side.
 

The leaders lay where she’d killed them, already being feasted on by others. But the majority of those in the trap were still there, moving back and forth on their paths. It was like they’d been programmed and would do this forever. Perhaps it was the promise of food. A primal instinct that told them if they kept doing what they were doing, they wouldn’t go hungry.
 

She paused in the shadows, watching. So long as Luke and Krystal didn’t turn up, it didn’t matter. She pulled her phone out and checked the screen. Nothing. Where were they? She hesitated. Should she go back in the hospital? She didn’t want to because she was useless in there. Out here she could do something. She just had to figure out what. At least she had time.
 

She got no further with her planning as the rumble of motorcycle engines grew rapidly louder.
 

Luke

They were being attacked by Metallica’s fan club. As an observer of human life for hundreds of years, there were many things he’d been exposed to. But even before that, music had played a part in some of the horrors he’d inflicted in Hell. Taste, the human tendency to like and dislike, gave the average demon more ammunition than any amount of physical pain. Metallica he didn’t mind too much, though his experience was limited to the occasional burst overheard from head phones.
 

Now he would be quite happy if the world had never heard of the band. He gunned his bike and checked on Krystal. She hadn’t stopped amazing him the entire time they’d been out and she wasn’t showing any signs of doing so now. He was stronger, faster, and fitter than anyone else on Earth, by some distance. She was a normal human, and a skinny, malnourished one at that. Yet here she was, still standing and smiling with it.
 

‘Could we just ride at them, shouting?’ She asked.

‘I’m not sure that would work. Hang on.’ He jumped off his bike and pulled off his leather jacket. The jumper underneath came off as well. He pulled the jacket back on then twisted the jumper into a roll of material. He unscrewed the petrol cap on the top of his bike and stuffed his jumper in until only a little poked out the top.
 

Krystal tapped her handlebars, one eye on him but the other watching the horde coming rapidly closer. He checked as well, nodding in satisfaction. There was still forty feet between them and though it felt like they were moving fast, they weren’t. The pushing and shoving slowed them further.
 

‘Can you ride with me as passenger?’ He asked.
 

‘What are you going to do if I say no?’

He shrugged. ‘Push you off and steal your bike?’

She laughed and shifted forward on the saddle.
 

‘Be ready. We’re heading down the left side and there’ll be flames, okay?’

She nodded and flipped her visor up. Her confident body language belied the tension in her face as she hid it from view. She was close to exhaustion and he couldn’t blame her in the least.

He pulled his lighter out and held it to the end of his jumper. It smouldered a little but refused to catch completely. This was going to be tricky.
 

He shook the bike, making the petrol slosh around inside. He could feel it when he squeezed the jumper. That would have to do. He started the engine and slipped it into first gear, keeping the revs up as it started to move. He jogged alongside as he approached the zombies. Krystal appeared on the far side of the bike, cruising at the same speed.
 

‘Get back a bit, just in case.’

She blanched but did as he said. He got his lighter out again, struggling to control the bike with one hand. It was only the forward momentum that kept it up. The zombies were much closer now and he could hear their growling over the revs. He gunned the throttle as far as he could, flicked the lighter and held it to the jumper. The second the flame flared into life, he revved once more and shoved the bike forward.
 

It wobbled but kept straight for a few yards. Then the balance went and it toppled over.
 

It didn’t have time to hit the ground.
 

The petrol exploded as Luke threw himself back. The bike was transformed into shards and chunks of metal flying all directions and he threw his hands over his face. The zombies sounded like wounded animals, an eerie moaning sound rising from those nearest the explosion.
 

Amongst the debris hitting the floor he was pleased to spot a few, bloody limbs. Krystal pulled up alongside, grabbed his shoulder and heaved him to his feet. The world spun and it was all he could do for a moment to just cling to her and not fall over. It stabilised and he slung a leg carelessly over the bike.
 

‘Ready?’

He mumbled something close to yes and they took off, powering across the tiny space between them and the horde. Krystal charged straight through the cloud of black smoke and flames. The bridge the other side of the explosion looked like a slaughter house, with pieces of zombie scattered among pools of blood.
 

‘Pretty good work.’

He nodded and gripped the back bar tighter. The spinning had almost stopped but the smoke wasn’t helping. There was a hole through the zombies and Krystal aimed for it. A couple of them reached out as they passed, but for the most part they were more interested in finding parts of their shattered comrades to chew on. Luke swallowed and his eyes dipped for a moment. His ears were ringing and the need to vomit became a coughing fit that made the bike shake.
 

‘Stop it, I can’t bloody hold it.’

He held his breath, trying desperately to suppress the coughing. They were past most of the zombies and safety lay seconds away. Then three huge figures appeared in the gap before them. They all had what was left of their hair down to their waists, and were covered in tattoos. The ink stood out against their pale skin and looked better than it probably ever had when they were alive.
 

They opened arms the size of small trees and Krystal hauled on the handlebars. He watched in silence, having no better advice to give, until he realised they were heading straight for the edge of the bridge.

‘Stop, stop—’

It was far too late. He should have prepared for this, but his mind wasn’t working quite as fast as he’d have liked. There was a chance he was tired as well. The bike struck the kerb and mounted the pavement sideways and airborne. They hit the top of the railing and flipped straight over it. He got one last look at the zombies on the bridge, staring in wonder at them as they hurtled through the air, then all he could see was the dark, soupy water coming up to meet them.
 

He managed to take a breath before they struck. It was cold. It was beyond cold, sinking straight through his clothes and numbing his limbs. He tried to kick to the surface but he was working at half speed. He couldn’t open his eyes for fear of what foul sickness he’d get from the Thames, so he just kicked and kicked and hoped.
 

His lungs were bursting, refusing to hold the air in any longer, and the first bubbles burst from his mouth. He pushed them out and kept his lips closed, but the next lot he couldn’t control and water flooded in. The moment it touched his tongue his control slipped away. He thrashed about, using everything he had left to drag at the water and pull himself closer to the surface. Except he didn’t know where the surface was.
 

He opened his eyes and stared into the murk. He could see nothing. Then a hand reached up towards him and he grabbed at it. Krystal. She needed him. He tried to pull her up but she resisted, hauling on his hand. The water was filling his lungs and he was weakening every second. He was going to kill them both.
 

Krystal kept pulling and he went deeper into the water. Only there was light below and suddenly the world righted itself as he burst out into fresh air. The water shot from him in a fit of coughing. He went straight under again, but came up quickly and took another lungful. Something was grabbing him and he struggled.
 

‘Stop, bloody hell, take it easy. Just let me help.’

He tried to relax, but his body felt as stiff as a board as Krystal’s arm came around his neck and her body appeared beneath him. He let her pull him through the water towards one of the huge concrete islands that held up the leg of the bridge. They reached it and she took one of his hands, putting it onto the concrete.
 

‘Can you hold on?’

He didn’t know how to answer that, so he tried and found he could. ‘Yes, I’m alright, I’ve got it.’

She let him go and swum beside him. They clung together to the island and he looked at her through blurry eyes. ‘You saved my life.’

‘Not the first time, I might add.’

‘How?’

‘Always been good at swimming. Not done it much in the last three years. Lucky I remember how.’

‘But you did more than swim.’

‘Yeah, well, mum always wanted me to be a lifesaver. Thought it was important. Dunno why.’

‘Maybe she knew.’

‘Knew what? That one day I’d have to save the Devil from drowning in the Thames?’ She chuckled and shook her head. ‘I doubt that very much.’ She paused. He wanted to say more but all his breath had gone. He rested his head against the concrete. It was quiet here, safe and peaceful. He could just have a sleep and—’

‘Stop it. Wake up, you lazy sod. You gotta find me a new bike.’
 

His eyes flickered open and he nodded. ‘Yes, a new bike.’ It seemed incredibly funny and he laughed. Then he coughed and water came up that went out his nose. He coughed some more and vomited a little, but by then he was fully awake.
 

‘Can you swim, at all?’

‘I think so. I’ve never tried it.’

‘You’ve never tried it. How old are you?’

‘I’m not sure. I lost count after the first couple of thousand years.’

‘And you’ve never tried swimming. Bloody typical. Give it a go, swim over to that island.’

He stared across the dark water to where she pointed. He could see the water rushing beneath the bridge as the tide headed out to sea. There was no way he was going to make it, none whatsoever.
 

‘I can’t do that.’

‘The devil can’t swim a few measly metres. I’m disappointed.’

‘I’m still alive and intend to stay that way. Sorry.’

She sighed and nodded. ‘Fine, I’ll see what I can do. Always wanted to drive a boat.’

 
Without another word she set off, swimming hard against the current. There was only one island between them and the edge of the river and Krystal covered it in no time. She climbed out and he watched the water stream from her in the light from the South Bank. She looked a little like one of the smaller beings in the Dome.

He’d never bothered find out who or what they were. Something to do with one of the smaller religions, paganism maybe. Faeries or sprites or some such. A dying breed and not much use to anyone. He thought, in that moment, that Krystal was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen as she emerged from the Thames in a shower of water that lit up white. When he got back to the Dome, he would spend some time getting to know them.
 

When he got back to the Dome… he’d been so desperate for that, for all the time he’d been here. But he hadn’t been here that long and already he wasn’t sure if that was what he still wanted. He’d never felt like this in the Dome. This feeling of being on the edge, of not knowing whether he’d see the sun tomorrow. That feeling was as strange as the pride he felt watching Krystal. Stupid, meaningless pride that somehow meant more than his chamber and his list.