Thirteen Roses Book Four: Alone: A Paranormal Zombie Saga Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Publishing

  Mailing List

  Dedication

  Krystal

  Jackson

  Bayleigh

  Alex

  Dave

  Luke

  Jackson

  Bayleigh

  Krystal

  Alex

  Jackson

  Luke

  Dave

  Bayleigh

  Krystal

  Jackson

  Alex

  Luke

  Bayleigh

  Dave

  Jackson

  Krystal

  Alex

  Dave

  Bayleigh

  Luke

  Jackson

  Krystal

  Alex

  Luke

  Bayleigh

  Thanks

  Free Book!

  Also Available

  Acknowledgements

  Thirteen Roses

  An Apocalyptic Zombie Saga

  Book Four: Alone

  by

  Michael Cairns

  Published by Cairns Publishing

  Copyright © Michael Cairns (2015)

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication

  may be reproduced, distributed, or

  transmitted in any form or by any means without the

  prior written permission of the publisher.

  1st Edition

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  This one’s for Rich.

  Krystal

  The hospital was clean. Bayleigh said that was first time that could ever be said about an NHS hospital. Krystal hadn’t spent enough time in them to know, but then, they weren’t talking about that sort of cleanliness anyway. The hospital was clean because of the huge mound of zombie bodies outside the front and the silence that ran with her down every hallway.

  She’d tried, last night, to explain to Bayleigh what it felt like being in here. It was like having her own home, one that no one could kick her out of. Ed felt it too. Less than her perhaps, because he still yearned for the home he hadn’t been too long out of. But for her the new world was, in one way at least, a blessing.

  Today was particularly exciting, because today she was going out with Luke. He was the only one who’d left the hospital in the four days since the cavern and she was antsy for the outside. He was taking her because they didn’t know how much longer they had until the devices ran out and that meant the zombies would be coming. She needed experience in fighting and killing them. They all did, but Luke had decided she and Bayleigh stood the most to gain from a bit of practice.

  Jackson had grumbled and moaned, but he’d seemed calmer in the last couple of days. His frustration at sharing a hospital with a hundred hot chicks and not getting laid gave Krystal endless amusement, and at least he hadn’t talked about God recently. In fact, in a weird-off between him and Dave, Dave won every time.

  He’d emerged from the cathedral an entirely different person, one none of them could understand. He’d spent the last four days strolling around the place, poking at things and playing with them, but showing no interest whatsoever in doing anything. He had to be reminded about how dangerous the zombies were every time he talked about going out for a stroll. It was like he’d been lobotomised. Once Bayleigh explained what that meant, Krystal had agreed.

  She reached the top of the escalator and raced down it. They’d switched them off three days ago to save power. She didn’t know how the electricity worked, but Alex was pretty certain they would only have it a month or so, assuming nothing went wrong. He said if a power station blew up then all bets were off.

  She reached the front door and put her hands on her knees, panting and out of breath. Luke strolled from the reception area and smiled. ‘You alright?’

  ‘Yeah, just checking on things.’ She replied.

  ‘Things?’

  ‘Windows, emergency exits, you know, the stuff you said I should check.’

  ‘You know, that’s another reason we’re going out today. Four days of hiding in here and everyone’s forgotten what the zombies are like.’

  ‘I can’t believe the hostages haven’t even met any yet.’

  ‘Sad but true. Perhaps we should introduce them in a safe environment before the devices stop working.’

  ‘Is there such a thing as a safe environment any more?’

  Luke shrugged and tossed her the sword. ‘Shall we?’

  She grinned and nodded as she strapped it on. It felt good hanging at her waist and she felt safer with it on. Not safe, but safer. How anyone could forget what the zombies were like was beyond her. She still woke every night, sweating about the boy in Canary Wharf clutching her wrist as he died, or the frantic car ride through the city to reach St Paul’s. Sometimes she woke seeing Ed strolling down the front path like he was going for the morning paper. She wasn’t ever going to forget the zombies.

  Luke pressed the emergency button, the door hissed open, and they stepped outside. There were a few zombies with long memories waiting at the barrier, watching them with hungry eyes. Between them and the zombies, however, were two motorbikes with helmets slung over the handlebars. She grabbed one and put it on, then slung her tiny leg over the bike.

  It was small, made by Yamaha, and, according to Luke, almost as deadly at the zombies. Her feet just scraped the ground and she wobbled until she rocked to one side and put her foot flat on the floor. He’d explained how it worked a bunch of times and she’d ridden around the ground floor of the hospital, but doing it with an audience of zombies was an entirely different prospect.

  She started it beneath Luke’s watchful gaze and couldn’t help grinning at the throbbing between her legs. This would never have happened in the old world. She used to watch them roll past down Embankment but never dreamed she’d ride one herself. She let the clutch out, rolled forwards and glanced sideways at a zombie.

  The bike stalled and juddered to a stop. She blushed, pleased for the helmet that hid her reddening cheeks, and tried again. Luke was already astride his and rolled up beside her. ‘Know where we’re going?’

  She nodded, focusing on the handlebars and the throttle. It was going to work this time. She rolled forwards and the bike chugged happily. Luke eased past her and slammed on the revs, heading for a gap in the zombie line.

  He brushed between two of them, their reactions far too slow as they grabbed for him. She followed suit and laughter burst from her throat as she swept past them and onto the road. They were everywhere, but the fear was gone as they raced past in a blur. She fixed her eyes on Luke’s back but soon realised she needed to do more. The moment Luke found a gap between the zombies it closed, and she had to find an alternative route.

  She started to relax on the bike. Luke said he’d got one light enough for her and it was easier now she was going fast, but her arms were aching long before they reached the river. It reeked down here. There were more bodies on the ground, and piles of bones drying in the late autumn sunlight. The zombies were turning on one another.

  Luke said they were forming into packs, the stronger ones finding those weak and alone and tearing them apart. They cruised past a park on the right of Embankment and what lay within nearly sent her careening into the wall. As many as twenty zombies hunched in a rough circle. In the centre she saw a mound of half-chewed corpses and bones.

  They were organising. Luke said it was like going back ten thousand years to whe
n man began learning, drawing together the first scraps of civilisation from chaos. They would move onto tools soon and then, as Jackson put it, they were fucked. Her eyes flicked back to the road and she shouted in alarm.

  A zombie was right in front of her. She hauled on the handlebars and her heart lurched sideways as she realised she’d screwed up. The front of the bike turned but the back couldn’t follow it. The rear wheel popped off the ground and threw her off. She slammed into the zombie followed closely by the bike.

  Krystal landed helmet first, and flipped onto her back, breath charging from her lungs like it was trying to escape the zombie on its own. The zombie crunched as, by blind luck, the bike drove it into the tarmac. The sound of breaking bones and squishing flesh was replaced with a horrible scraping sound as the bike slid along the tarmac.

  She rolled onto her side, dragging in air between gritted teeth. She was determined not to cry. If she showed any weakness at all, Luke would take her back to the hospital and replace her. That wasn’t happening. The bike screeched to a halt.

  The zombie was mashed, face broken open and brain spilling onto the road. She rose as fast as her bruised body would allow. The zombies were closing, three almost within reach.

  Luke had prepared her for this. She knew the theory, but stepping slowly and calmly backwards was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Sweat ran down the sides of her face despite the cool air and she gripped her trousers in her sweaty palms. The first zombies went for the corpse, ignoring her, and her mouth fell open. It worked. She had seconds before the corpse was swamped and they came for her, but that was all she needed.

  She limped to her bike, got her weight beneath her shoulders, and hauled it upright. She tried, and failed, to look in all directions at once. But she did notice Luke, circling her slowly, bike revving. Was he near enough to help if she wasn’t quick enough? Maybe not, but then that was the point, wasn’t it?

  The growl alerted her to the zombie before she saw it, and she jumped. She clutched the bike and kept it up, then booted the kickstand. She let out a breath as the weight left her back, and turned to face the zombie. It was only metres away, reaching for her, and she squealed.

  She hadn’t been near one in almost a week and she’d forgotten how alien they looked. Its eyes were sunk so deep into its face as to be almost non-existent, dirty red holes in crumbling sockets. She’d remembered their skin looking waxy, but in the week since the plague began, it had changed. It looked more like the piles of old concrete workmen left lying around the city, craggy and white and crumbling in the sun.

  Her sword came out of the scabbard before she thought about it. She flailed at the creature, wincing at how clumsy she suddenly felt. The blade bit into the zombie’s arm but it lurched on, reaching with dirty claws. It bashed her helmet and whipped her head sideways. She grunted and stepped back, banging into her bike. It wobbled but stayed up and she cursed herself. Clumsy and slow and stupid.

  She leapt sideways, away from the bike and the zombie. It swung slowly round towards her but she had the time to set her sword properly. It came again and she hacked at its hands. The left one came completely off and the other was left hanging by skin and tendon as blood glugged out in lumpy jets.

  It wasn’t bothered, so she stepped sideways and raised the sword, her confidence returning. She swung horizontally, aiming for the neck. The zombie lurched at the last moment and she got it in the jaw. The sword smashed its teeth in and cut straight through its cheek. It lodged for a moment in its face before she yanked it free.

  The zombie swayed, still not exhibiting any signs of pain. It looked more confused by the gouts of blood and tongue streaming from its mouth. She stepped around it and another zombie crashed straight into her. She screamed as she tumbled to the ground, sword flying from her outstretched hand. She rolled over, covering her head. She didn’t need to.

  The zombie was already locked in an embrace with its wounded comrade. Its teeth were locked around its face, tongue lapping at the blood in a grotesque impersonation of a kiss. She froze, swallowing down the bile and wondering how much of it was remembered from before it died and how much was greed. Then she blinked. They weren’t the only two zombies in the world, even if it felt like it to them.

  She turned back to her bike, checking about as she reached for the handle bars. More were coming but their eyes were focused on the snogging, blood covered zombies and she climbed on without further mishap. The engine was still chugging away and she raised the kickstand and got going. She didn’t stall and, thanking Luke’s dad for the miracle, got up to speed.

  Luke came along side. ‘Not a bad effort. Not a good start, though. That could cost you.’ He pulled closer, slowed and handed over her sword. She flushed, grateful again for her helmet, and took it from him. The bike wobbled as she stuffed it back in the scabbard.

  She wasn’t sure what he meant by the last bit, but he’d said not a bad effort, and she’d take that for starters. They raced side by side down the river, weaving this way and that. They passed a set of young zombies in yellow overalls. It was, she realised with an ache in her gut, a school trip. Kids her age bumbling aimlessly, searching for food. Were they a pack as well? Did they gather around the body of one less fortunate to feast on raw flesh?

  She didn’t want to think about it, but she had no choice. This was the world now and there was no escaping it. Luke had tried to explain it to them. He talked about what lay ahead. The food would go off pretty soon so they needed to find livestock and learn how to care for them. They had a hundred extra mouths to feed as well, so the trips to the supermarket had become a daily event for Luke. It was one reason for this mission.

  The internet was still up. Alex had tracked down a distribution centre for Tesco so now they had to take a look and see what state it was in. That she was excited about visiting a warehouse was maybe a little sad, but she didn’t care.

  Luke had talked about other things too. They needed to find somewhere safe, somewhere more permanent than the hospital. Somewhere outside London. She shuddered at the thought, but he was right. There were places only a few hours away that would be empty of zombies. She imagined being able to stand outside without one hand on her sword hilt and grinned. That was worth leaving the city for.

  Luke waved a hand as they crossed Westminster bridge and she slowed. She could see all the way down the river from here and if she half closed her eyes it looked as though the plague had never happened. Then she crested the bridge and she saw why Luke had slowed her. Coming towards her over the bridge was an army of zombies.

  They wore black, for the most part, t-shirts bearing symbols from metal bands. Many of them had long hair that was coming out, grey lumps of scalp visible where their locks were missing. And they had glasses on, cardboard glasses with red and green lenses. Beyond them, the Imax Cinema rose into the morning light.

  Jackson

  He was suffocating. God hadn’t meant for him to be in here, trapped with all this temptation. He groaned and rearranged his junk inside his pants, leaning back in the plastic chair. He hated the chairs, hated them. They were a curse upon humanity, a scourge only one level below the plague itself. And it did things to the ladies.

  There were three of them in the room with him. He was idling, looking at stuff on the net, but his eyes kept leaving the screen of his phone. They were on the same crappy chairs and were as uncomfortable as him. So they fidgeted, pushing their butts forward and thrusting out their titties. He couldn’t keep his eyes off them. And they knew it. They knew what they did to him.

  He’d seen it again and again as he strolled around the place. They gave him looks, come-ons that fled when he went closer. They wore those jogging pants that clung to their legs and arse and they knew it. They all knew it. He growled and swallowed it before the ladies heard.

  They were laughing at him.

  He’d asked a couple of them. He’d made it clear who they’d have the honour of screwing but they hadn’t been interested. They smirked
and said sorry like they meant it but he knew better. He glanced down at his phone. He was bored. Bored of surfing the same sites that didn’t change and didn’t update. Bored of watching the same looped messages on all the TV channels. And he was bored of being in this damn hospital.

  He shoved himself out of the chair, earning a look of surprise from the three bitches. They watched him leave the room and it took till he was out the door before he realised what he’d called them. He stopped, one hand against the wall, head hanging down.

  He’d got complacent. He wasn’t doing God’s work anymore and he’d got lazy. He couldn’t stand being here. That was what was wrong.

  He shook his head and straightened, letting out a breath as he put his hands to his belt. He could blame everyone he wanted, it didn’t make it any less of a sin. He strolled down the corridor, nodding to another of the ladies as he passed. She gave him the sort of smile that made him hard and think about grabbing her and taking her with him into his room.

  Had she sinned? They’d all sinned, every last one of them. They were all playing this innocent thing but it was bullshit. And he would call it. If he was here any longer he would have to call it. The door to his room hung open. Nothing to hide and nothing to steal.

  He entered, closed the door and removed his belt. He knelt. He wanted to pray but he didn’t know how to anymore. Everything with Luke and the demon and the soldiers of God had left him in limbo. He was God’s chosen, he knew that, but he didn’t know who God was anymore. He didn’t understand why God would let the plague happen. Sure, there were a lot of people the world was far better off without, but he was one of them. Or he had been.

  So instead of praying, he counted, the belt sounding like a gunshot as it opened the skin on his back. He stopped when he reached seventeen and his arm went numb. The sin was there, lurking beneath the surface, but he’d driven it deep and it would stay there for a while. They were ladies, deserving of every respect he could give them. And anything else he could give them as well.