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

  He grinned, stood, and collapsed face first onto the bed. The world spun and he moaned into his quilt. He would lie here for a minute. But then he was going out.

  He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, but when he stood, the wounds on his back split open and set his skin on fire. The pain reminded him of his sins and he bathed in it until it dimmed enough for him to move. He dressed, finding clean clothes on the chair. The ladies knew how to use a washing machine and he wasn’t paying for clothes anymore. If it was up to him, he’d wear something new every day, but Bayleigh insisted.

  He sniffed and shook his head as he left the room and stomped to the front door. His gun hung over his shoulder. He only had a few rounds left, but he didn’t intend on using it. He had other methods. The reception device was hidden in one of the drawers at the front desk. All the survivors, the ladies and the original crew, were crammed into one small ward that was guarded by the other three devices. They wouldn’t miss this one.

  And if they did, so what? There was no law here, no one to tell him yes and no. He was God’s messenger. Taking the device meant he could go out and hunt and that was something they should all be thanking him for.

  He shoved the device deep into his pocket as he strolled through the front door. The zombies were restless this morning, probably pissed off at missing Luke and Krystal when they left on the bikes. She’d been so damn happy about it he could spit. Luke said Jackson didn’t need the training and thought that would make him happy. He scowled. The little tit didn’t get it. It wasn’t about training, it was about using the right person for the job, and Luke had got it all wrong. But then, he got a lot of things wrong.

  Jackson took two steps from the hospital before a voice stopped him.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  He pressed his lips together, took a deep breath, and turned. Dave stood just inside the doors. He was Dave now. He’d told them all in that weird-boy monotonous voice he’d started using and no one had wanted to argue. There was a lot about him Jackson could argue with, but he didn’t. It would be like kicking a rabbit. Though that would probably be fun if you had something to kick it at.

  Dave wasn’t fun. Not in any way. Just talking to him made Jackson’s skin crawl, and it took a lot to do that.

  ‘Out.’

  ‘What about the zombies?’

  Jackson sighed. It was never simple. ‘What about the sodding zombies? What about them?’

  ‘They’re going to eat you.’

  A grin spread across Jackson’s face and he spread his arms wide. ‘But, Dave, didn’t you hear? I’m the chosen one.’

  He strolled out and the zombies parted before him, shoved back by the barrier. He roared with laughter as he spun around and looked back at the hospital. Dave’s eyes were wide. Then they narrowed and he raced back behind the hospital desk. Dammit. He was creepy but he wasn’t stupid.

  ‘You stole the device. You shouldn’t do that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  A frown flickered across Dave’s face, as though he couldn’t work out why it was bad. But it was gone when he opened his mouth. ‘Because there are people in here who rely on it to keep them safe.’

  ‘People not meaning you. I don’t know what you are.’ He muttered under his breath before raising his voice. ‘The ward’s still safe. You might wanna get back in there.’

  He was halfway across the street and the zombies nearer the hospital crowded in, clamouring for the open, unprotected doors. Dave’s eyes widened again and he vanished into the hospital. Jackson chuckled and looked about him. He’d been diving once, with tanks and everything, when he and Clarissa went to Greece. There had been a moment of panic when the water closed over his head and his breathing had sped up till he was gasping in and out of the mask. He knew he needed to slow down, but there had been something so alien about it, so utterly wrong. It had taken him a while.

  This was the same. The zombies surrounded him, staring with hungry eyes and reaching with clawed hands. And his breaths were coming short and sharp. This time, though, he smiled as his breathing slowed and he sauntered away from the hospital, just another chosen one out for a stroll in the city.

  He hadn’t thought about where he was going, just about getting out. But he was out now and fancied somewhere nice. Soho was unlikely to be much fun anymore, and he was about to head to Regent’s Park when a thought struck him. He set off in the opposite direction, towards the city and the yard. Pavan wouldn’t have had time to do anything with his van, so it would still be there. And his keys were in his pocket.

  It was easy to get around town now there weren’t any bloody suits. The zombies made a path and he strode through. He tried to hit one, racing quickly towards them, but somehow they stayed clear, scrabbling back to get away from the device. He was in a bubble, safe from the world. He needed to hurt something, to begin God’s work, but it was impossible with the device.

  He reached the yard quickly and sighed in relief as he saw the van. It beeped as he thumbed the keys and he hauled open the back doors. Benches on both sides, restraints hanging down to the plastic bottom. Putting that in had been a sod, but after the first bleeder he’d had to. It was early on. Some little brat had realised what was happening and he hadn’t had the straps by then. Stupid kid had thrown himself about so bad his nose broke and he sprayed blood over everything. Now the interior was all wipe-clean surfaces.

  He turned away, eyes stinging. He wasn’t sure what was worse; what he’d done or not being able to find the remorse he felt sure should be there. He knew it was evil and wrong, but it was a different person who did those things, and a long time ago. It wasn’t him. God saved him from that person and he was as dead as the zombies growling around the edge of the yard.

  He climbed in the front and tried the engine. She rumbled into life and he thumped the wheel. This was better. This was good. He stuck it in reverse and put his foot down. He managed to catch a zombie before it scrambled free of the device field and sent it flying, its head smashing open as it struck the wall. He watched in the wing mirror as its pals set on it and sank their teeth in.

  They weren’t paying attention to him anymore. He grinned, teeth showing. Of course. He pulled the device from his pocket and placed it on the front seat, then slipped from the cab. He strolled calmly over to the feast until he reached the edge of the field. He hesitated, then jogged back to the van and opened the rear doors. He leant in and loosened four of the restraints.

  Back to the feast that was already almost finished. Of the guy he drove into, there was only a few chunks of meat left on his rib cage and legs. His face had been stripped bare and Jackson could swear another of the zombies was chewing pieces of his nose off the strip of fleshy skin it had hanging from its fist.

  He swallowed and turned away. That was pretty gross. He stepped closer but received no response yet again. He had maybe a couple of seconds before the food ran out. Without waiting any longer, he stepped over the line and grabbed one of the zombies from behind. He locked his arms around its shoulders, leaving its arms sticking out helplessly to either side.

  The reaction was instantaneous. The zombie growled and lashed out with its feet, striking another in the face. It twisted and writhed and struggled but he gripped it firmly. The other zombies clawed at it, but Jackson stepped back over the line, dragging his captive with him. Its reaction this time, was quite different.

  It screamed like a really bad metal singer, all gravel and no tune. For a moment it thrashed uncontrollably. He almost lost it before it went completely limp and unmoving. It was easy for Jackson to drag it over the yellow stones and into the van. He could feel the zombies watching him, their eyes tracking his every movement. They were silent as well, as if they knew he was doing something different, something other than killing them.

  He sat the zombie on the bench and attached the bindings around its legs and arms. It still wasn’t reacting, eyes flat and staring. The device had killed any urge it had to fight or eat. It was amazing.
And dull. With a growl, Jackson pulled the crowbar out from beneath the front seat and headed for the line.

  He didn’t get close enough for them to grab him before he swung. The bar went straight through the first one’s face, shattering its teeth and spraying them across the yard where they blended into the dusty stone. It was set upon and he paced around the circle until he found more willing sacrifices. The next one he bashed in the top of the head and his bar sunk in deep and got stuck. He hauled the zombie into the zone and dumped the body on the ground, then busied himself wiggling the bar to and fro until it came free with a sound like duct tape being torn off skin.

  It still wasn’t enough. He wasn’t fighting, he was executing and there was no release in that. The bodies were good. Two less zombies to fight. But he needed release. He ran around the circle until he found a space in the line and dashed through it. He could imagine the other guys watching him, swearing and shouting at him what the hell was he doing.

  They wouldn’t understand. They weren’t driven. Yeah, they wanted to stay alive, but they weren’t here for God. They weren’t here to save the world, so how could they know his pain? How could they understand how much it hurt being shut up in that damned hospital? They couldn’t, and by the time he returned, his frustration would be gone.

  He thumbed the safety off his gun as the first zombie came for him. The bar shattered its kneecaps and it fell face first. He ran around and took long strides towards the van. Two more got in his way and he swung. His first blow went in via the temple and emerged from its ear, throwing brain fragments across the floor. His return blow brought the sharp part of the bar into the other creature’s head. His swing was weaker and the crowbar stuck in the thing’s skull and hauled it around.

  It stumbled and lost its footing as it landed within the device field. It thrashed about on the floor, arms and legs going like pistons before it stopped and lay still. He extricated the bar and kicked the body. Interesting that it could still fit for a moment even after he’d speared its brain.

  He tossed it out of the field. It struck the floor and was set upon in moments. This was better. He was sweating, feeling it. He stepped out, then back into the field, and watched them as they ran at him and stopped. This was much better. He grinned and showed them his back. He peered in the back of the van at his captive zombie. It wouldn’t be any fun with the device in the van.

  He climbed into the front and gunned the engine, then pulled out of the yard. He’d ditch the device back in the hospital. That’d make Luke happy and keep him off his back. Then he could come back to the van. These things didn’t register pain, but he would change that.

  Bayleigh

  She wanted to dislike them. They were so entirely easy to hate. Perfect skin and hair, nice smiles and great bodies. Things she’d never have noticed in a million years before she was forced to live in a tiny space with a hundred of them. That wasn’t true. She’d have noticed, but in the same way she noticed shoes and hair styles. Nice and all, but not worth thinking about. Now she couldn’t help noticing.

  Sophie had these little dimples when she smiled that made her look sweet and made Bayleigh’s toes curl. It was like she knew she had them and used them at just the right time. But despite all that, she found herself liking them. Which was why she was here in the centre of the ward. The room was long and thin with desks and nurses’ stations running down the middle. There were a few comfier chairs here, and enough space for them to get together and chat. As per usual, she was right in the middle.

  Without exception, the girls were all twenty three or younger. They were, for the most part, virgins, and painfully, scarily religious. They all attended church group and made the church a large part of their lives. And almost to a woman, were refusing to believe what Bayleigh found herself saying over and over.

  ‘It can’t be true. Why would they lie to us?’

  Bayleigh sighed and resisted the urge to put her head in her hands. ‘Everything has sugar in it. They say ‘no added sugar’, but that just means they haven’t ladled extra spoonfuls in. Everything’s got sugar in.’

  Sophie hissed and turned away, raising her hand as if to block the truth out. Sugar wasn’t the only problem. Apparently, she couldn’t believe there were homeless people in the city like Krystal, who wasn’t being fed by her local church. She also refused, point-blank, to believe that porn could be bought over the counter in shops in Soho.

  Sophie came from Kent. She’d attended a church meeting two weeks ago, the same as usual, and been introduced by her Vicar to a lovely man called Andre. Andre had come from a far larger church and wanted to speak to some of the younger members of the congregation about their lives out in the sticks. She’d been happy to talk to him and, at her Vicar’s urging, been honest and open. She hadn’t found it strange when he asked about her parent’s health and history of heart disease. And she hadn’t found it odd when he held her hand. Her Vicar often did that.

  She couldn’t remember anything after the meeting until she woke up in St Paul’s. Her story was a carbon copy of the other womens’, only the details changed. She was unusual because she’d taken the news of a demon and two angels being here on Earth considerably better than most of the others. It turned out the others weren’t quite as literal in their translation of the bible.

  Bayleigh had a sneaking suspicion the girls had been chosen more for their breeding suitability than their religious leanings. Not that it mattered now. But Sophie was just unbelievably nice and Bayleigh needed a bit of that. She kept catching herself at the window, staring at the zombies. She lost hours studying them as they lurched about in their unhurried way.

  They were so apathetic, so… meaningless. She’d spent her whole life working every second, except for the rare evenings when dad was peaceful and she could slump on the sofa and watch TV. Now there was a whole world of people whose only aim in life was to do nothing except eat. Watching them was oddly restful, yet deeply frustrating.

  She thought she might be going a little bit crazy. She woke up most nights, bathed in sweat and struggled to get back to sleep. She wasn’t the only one. Ed was finding it tough and Krystal was fronting but it was obvious she was struggling too. The last four days of down time had forced everyone to realise that this was life now and things weren’t changing.

  She thought she was dealing with it well. Considering she had the extra worry of when the weird effects from the spell were going to wear off, she was doing bloody great. She’d only slept four hours last night and woke feeling great. It was early afternoon, she’d had one slice of bread, and wasn’t the least bit hungry. Luke had tried to talk to her about the spell but she’d blown it off and found a way to change the subject. She felt amazing. The comedown had to come soon, but right now, she felt amazing. At least, she had until she’d started talking about the dietary habits of those crazy non-Christian types Sophie had such a hard time believing existed.

  ‘So what now?’

  Bayleigh blinked as her reverie was disturbed. ‘Sorry, what?’

  Sophie’s forehead was marred by the tiniest lines as she frowned. Bayleigh could almost hear her thinking ‘say pardon, not what,’ but she hid her smile.

  ‘What are we going to do now?’

  ‘Good question. Luke’s talking about finding somewhere outside London, somewhere remote so there’s less zombies.’

  ‘Well yes, that makes sense, but I didn’t mean that. I mean about the soldiers. They did kidnap us, after all.’

  ‘And kidnap’s really the biggest crime they’ve committed.’

  ‘That’s a good point. They’ve killed most of the human race and we’re just going to run away to the country.’

  ‘What good will it do us going back in there? They’ve got guns. They don’t have you guys so they can’t do anything bad in that way. What else would we do?’

  ‘They deserve justice.’

  ‘Oh, of course. So I’ll just call up the police and get them on that then.’ She stopped short of addi
ng that she couldn’t because they were all dead. She wasn’t entirely convinced Sophie really believed that yet. She wasn’t the only one of the ladies who stayed away from the windows. She’d taken to calling them the ladies now, just because it was convenient, but it still made her nose wrinkle.

  Sophie was blushing and Bayleigh shook her head. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just as frustrated as you. Seriously, what do you think we should do?’

  ‘Well, there are a hundred and seven of us, yes? And I only saw about forty soldiers in that big cave, so we outnumber them. Couldn’t we go in there and do a citizen’s arrest?’

  Bayleigh snorted and bobbed her head. ‘Sounds perfect. Let’s go.’

  Sophie was half out of her seat and clapping her hands together, before she realised Bayleigh was joking. She went redder and Bayleigh felt absurdly guilty. It was like shooting fish in a barrel, only one without any water in.

  ‘I see. I’m sorry I suggested anything.’

  ‘Sophie, I’m sorry, don’t be pissed.’ There was the frown again. ‘To be honest, as long as they’re leaving us alone, I’d rather not rock the boat. They can’t really do anything and…’

  She trailed off but couldn’t ignore Sophie’s pointed look. ‘I don’t know whether anyone’s mentioned this, but there are places like St Paul’s all over the world, you know, with hostages in. All of those girls will have been… you know.’

  She really hoped Sophie would know and she could see by the further wrinkling of her perfect brow that she did. Not having to explain was a small mercy, but she’d take it.

  ‘Oh. That’s terrible.’ She put a hand to her nose, eyes sparkling wet, and Bayleigh took her hand.

  ‘Yeah, it is. It’s evil, though I’d never have used that word before this week.’