Death Plague Omnibus [Four Zombie Novels] (71 page)

“Are you coming or what?”

Even his brother now seemed like a completely different person to the one he’d set out with. He slowly made his way down the stairs, and decided that it would probably be best to go with the flow. That sentence his brother had uttered, about feeling like he was in a dream, struck a chord. Maybe he was stuck in a stupid dream. Something like that would explain away everything.

He caught up with his brother and took a deep ragged breath, trying to remember the last time a dream of his had felt so real, so detailed. He felt a stitch in his guts, not to mention so fucking painful.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded. “I’m fine,” he panted. “Go on, you’re the one who knows where you’re going. Don’t stop, I’ll try to keep up with you.” That was another thing. Since when did the Lego playing slob suddenly become super fit? More to the point, how come he was feeling so worn out? He did this sort of running about every day.

He did his best to keep up with his brother, keeping his eyes open and his ears tuned, ensuring that there were no nasty surprises ready to jump out at them on their way through the alleyway. That was one job that he did know how to perform well. It also helped him to focus, to stop his mind wandering into the other zone.

“No way can this be a fucking dream,” he muttered to himself. His brother had slowed down and stopped next to a huge set of metal gates. He watched Daniel gently pull back the bolt and swing one gate inwards. Mortimer raised the crossbow and got ready to fire, just in case there were any of the dead things close by. As the gate opened fully, he saw that there were a few zombies in the distance. By the looks of it they were making their way to the front of the building. Mortimer guessed that they must be a few late stragglers that had only just worked out where the gunshot had originated from.

Maybe he ought to be thankful for his not-so-dumb move. Thanks to him firing the weapon, Mortimer had inadvertently cleared the nearby streets. His brother tapped Mortimer on the shoulder and pointed to a row of houses on the opposite side of the street.

His mind did flip then. Right in front of him, as plain as anything, was their old house. He shook his head from side to side, refusing to believe that any of this was real. Daniel grabbed his arm and pulled him across the road towards the house.

Mortimer couldn’t stop shivering. He managed to throw the crossbow over his shoulder without dropping it and followed his brother through the open door and into the dark house. Just by looking at the state of it, he knew that nobody had lived here for years. The shakes worsened when Daniel led him towards the cellar door. No matter how much his terrified mind protested, Mortimer’s numb body continued to walk forward, drawn towards that open door. It took him a few moments to realize that the initial attraction had originated from here.

“No, please don’t,” he said, watching his brother walk through the door. Mortimer had no choice but to follow him. He reached the top of the stone stairs and gazed down, seeing the mummified bodies sprawled on the dusty cellar floor. His eyes caught the sight of one body, leaning against the wall. The flesh had long since shrivelled and the skin had tightened over the bones. But none of that stopped him from recognizing the body. Mortimer was looking at his brother’s remains.

Chapter Eight

The dazzling white light coming from the afternoon sun seared all the way through his eyelids, but he felt no heat at all. Kenny shivered and watched two seagulls fight over a rotting fish that one of them had just pulled out from a pile of brown seaweed. The birds were his only company on this beach. His sister was somewhere, but he couldn’t remember where. For all he knew, she might not have even come with him; yet, for the past few minutes, he’d convinced himself that she’d just gone to buy ice creams.

Kenny pulled the grey overcoat tighter around his body. An ice cream was the last thing he needed right now. Lord, what he’d do for a steaming cup of hot chocolate, or a big pot of black coffee. Why couldn’t he warm up?

“Come back to me!”

He twisted his head and gazed at the two birds, convinced that one of those gulls had just spoken. As soon as he looked at them, they both took off, dropping what was left of the fish. He hatched them fly up towards the sun. Kenny blinked and found he could not move his head.

“Come on, you need to snap out of it!”

Kenny’s eyes snapped open, and the bare light bulb directly above his head burned into his brain. He tried to groan and started to panic when he found he couldn’t move his head. He jerked his eyes away from the light and saw a blurred pink round shape next to him.

“Calm down,” hissed a familiar female voice. “They’ll hear you. Look, I’m going to take my hand off your mouth but you have to promise me not to make a single sound. Nod once, if you understand.”

It took him a few more moments for his confused mind to put all the pieces of his situation into their correct places. He heard his sister’s voice and he’d finally worked out that he wasn’t on a beach after all. Apart from those facts, coupled with the anxiety in her voice, Kenny decided that he could at least comply with her simple request. He nodded and took in a huge breath of stale and musty air when she removed her hand.

He turned his head to the side and looked around his new surroundings. Kenny had no idea where he was but he knew that this certainly wasn’t the center. He frowned when his roving eyes caught sight of his clothing. He sat up and stared at Diane. “What the hell has happened?” he whispered. Why was he dressed in this gear? Kenny looked down the front of his body, staring in confusion at his new dark green one-piece suit. The new threads weren’t the only change; someone had cleaned him up. For the first time in years, Kenny actually had clean hair and trimmed fingernails.

“I smell clean.”

His sister took his hand. “How do you feel?”

That question took him by surprise. Of all the thoughts cramming into his head, he had not even given the state of his health any consideration. Apart from being unable to get warm, Kenny didn’t feel as bad as he’d expected. He looked into her eyes. “I’ve felt a lot worse. What’s going on, where are we?”

Diane stood up and helped him to his feet. “We need to get off this level first. Can you climb?” She guided Kenny over to the rough stone rock face. “We have to get up here.”

He grimaced. “I hope you’re joking. I can hardly stand up, never mind climb up there.” His protests abruptly stopped when he heard the sound of a single mournful groan. Kenny snapped his head around. “Oh shit,” he whispered. “Please don’t tell me that was what I thought it was.”

Diane wedged the tip of her boot into a hole above her knee. She jumped up and managed to grab a small rocky outcropping. “Are you willing to stay to find out, Kenny?” She scrambled further up the rock and threw herself onto a ledge a couple of meters above his head. Diane leaned out and dropped her arm down. “Grab my hand.” She looked past the top of his head. “Hurry up, there’s three of them now.”

Kenny didn’t dare turn his head. He jumped up and tried to reach her hand, missing her digits by a couple of inches. The rising sound of multiple groans gave him the incentive to shake away the numbing slumber affecting his whole body. Kenny found the hole where his sister had pushed her foot in and wedged his own foot in there. He then jumped up, his fingers desperately trying to find any piece of rock to grab on to. He looked up and saw his sister leaning out even further, trying to grab him. He knew right now if he did grab her hand, his sister would probably end up back on the ground behind him. Kenny ignored her outstretched arm, pushed away the shaking panic that now infected his bones at the sound of those approaching zombies, and focused on trying to climb the rock.

Their loud groaning bore down on his hearing, drowning out even the terrified shouts coming from above him. Kenny grunted and lunged up, his probing digits grasping a rough knob of stone. He screamed out in utter fury and pulled his aching body up the rock face; his sister hooked her hand around his other wrist and pulled. Her grip suddenly went slack.

“Kick back!” she shouted.

He violently snapped his foot backwards, feeling it connect with something that broke under the impact. Kenny cried out in panic and scrambled up the last few feet of the rock and rolled onto the ledge, squashing Diane into the corner.

He lifted his head and peered over the edge, counting nine dead things pressed against the wall below them. They all had their arms raised, grasping hopefully at the air. He carefully stood up, moved a little closer to those outstretched arms, and tilted his head back.

“This isn’t natural.”

He felt his sister use his leg to stand up. Diane ran her hand over the surface, just above her head. She turned and stared at him. “Kenny, of course it isn’t real.” She wrapped her other hand around his wrist and pulled his arm up towards her other hand. “Feel it.”

The tips of Kenny’s fingers brushed over something cold and smooth, with a sharp edge. “That feels like metal.”

She nodded. “That’s because it is. Come on, Kenny, we still need to keep climbing, there’s no other way out of here.” Diane tipped her head back then stretched her arms and dug her fingers into a couple of crevices above her head. “It’ll be easier to continue now, Kenny.” She pulled her body up. “Trust me, we’ve got past the hardest bit. There’s ledges all the way to the top.”

His sister scaled the vertical surface like a human fly; it took her just moments to reach another ledge a couple of meters above his head. Kenny looked behind him, noticing that there were a few more dead things below them now. He shuddered; talk about the best incentive ever to not to lose his balance. His fingers found the holes that his sister had used and Kenny began to heft his body, taking his time. It had been ages since he’d subjected his poor muscles to any sort of rigorous exercise.

Diane was right though, compared to the first stage, this wasn’t that hard. He felt like he was crawling along rough ground, only vertically. His sister helped him onto to the next ledge. He found to his relief that the rocks above their heads had started to level out.

Kenny dropped to the floor and leaned back. “Okay, that’s it. I’m not going any further until you tell me just what the hell is going on here. More to the point, how did you know about the climb?”

She sat down beside him. “I’m still waiting, you know.”

He looked up. “Waiting for what?”

“You still haven’t told me how you really feel.”

Kenny blinked. Now that she’d asked the question again, he realized for the first time in ages that he felt quite good. “Yeah, okay, you’ve got me. Apart from being tired and my arms aching because of that climb, I can honestly say that I feel almost human.”

She nodded. “The best you’re felt for a while? I thought so. You see, Rossini wants to get the most out of his contestants. I watched him stick three needles into your arm, Kenny.”

“Wait, go back a bit. What do you mean by contestants?” No matter how hard he tried, Kenny couldn’t remember anything about the needle. He rolled up his sleeves, noting that he couldn’t remember them cleaning him up and pouring his body into this one-piece outfit either. There were no obvious needle marks.

“I think the first needle would have been more of your drug, Kenny. I’m only guessing though, it’s just that the color was the same as the one I gave you last night. It’s the second injection that scared the crap out of me, Kenny. I don’t know what it was but seconds after they pulled the needle out, you just went ballistic. Judging from how the captors reacted, I don’t think they expected you to go postal, either.”

“A stimulant, maybe?”

Diane shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. All I know is that you took two of them down and busted Rossini’s nose before the man could push the last needle into your arm. You closed your eyes and dropped to the floor after that.”

“I should have broken the bastard’s fat neck. So, come on, what do you mean by contestants? Where the hell are we?” Kenny took his eyes off the gathered dead things and gazed up towards the sky – not that they were outside, despite the look of the surroundings. That illusion fell apart as soon as he saw the metal beams high above them. “Oh shit, this is the arena, isn’t it?”

Diane followed his gaze up towards the vast roof and nodded. “Yeah, we’re in one of the game zones, honey. It’s such a weird feeling to actually be in here, instead of watching on the box.”

“You mean,” he licked his lips, “that we’re on fucking television?”

Diane wiped her forehead. “I’m not convinced about that.” She pinched the material on her arm and pulled it up. “I haven’t seen any cameras, not yet, anyway.” Diane frowned. “To be honest, I’m a bit confused over all of this.”

Kenny snorted. “You and me both.”

“No,” she replied. “You don’t understand what I mean. Thanks to my flatmate, I’ve sat through almost every one of these banal TV shows. It’s her apartment, you see, and she can’t get enough of the bilge they transmit. Now, each show has its own distinct look and a unique costume. Hell, on Celebrity Slaughter, the sick freaks even dress the zombies in bright orange jumpsuits.”

“Okay, I’m following you now. You’ve never seen anything like the things that we’re wearing?”

“That’s about the size of it,” Diane replied. She climbed up onto a stone block beside her feet and gazed over the broken landscape. “We’d better keep moving. If they
are
watching us, they won’t take kindly to us stopping for any great length of time.”

“What do you mean?”

She stared at Kenny. “They’ll drop nasty surprises on our heads if we don’t get a move on. Come on, follow me. I think I know where we can go.”

He tried to keep up with Diane as she scrambled over the pretend rocks. It looked as though his sister was making her way towards what resembled an old stone gothic church. Kenny belonged to the minority of the city’s population that wasn’t hooked on any of these stupid shows. He put that down to the tediousness of trying to stay living, and ensuring that he had enough drugs to keep him going until the next fix.

He wasn’t blind to any of the shows though, it was impossible to miss them. Even with him sleeping outside most of the time, Kenny couldn’t fail to notice the huge streetscreens that dominated every public square in the capital. The last time he’d actually watched a TV show was before The Turning. Back then though, the prizes were usually money, a vacation, or maybe a new car. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe that the new shows would offer similar prizes.

“Diane, wait up!” He stopped and folded over, feeling a stitch developing. When he sensed her shadow over him, he looked up and wiped his forehead. “You said we were contestants? Does that mean we could win something?”

She crouched down and looked over his shoulder. “I used that term a little wrong, I think, Kenny. Look, I still have no idea what show we’re in.”

“Does that make a difference?”

“Are you serious? Of course it does. If we were in The Last One Standing, then they’d be another twenty with us, all trying to kill each other. Or what about Infection Hunt? Three ‘lucky’ individuals are given very big guns and are told to bring down two prisoners that are about to turn. The winner is the first one to take out the prisoners with headshots.”

Kenny’s stomach rolled. “Right, so no matter what game this is, the chances are that we’re bait?”

She pulled him onto his feet. “We need to get to that building as soon as we can, Kenny.” Diane set off again. “And this time, don’t stop,” she cried, looking over her shoulder.

He tried to keep up with his sister as she raced over the broken rocks. Kenny kept his eyes and ears open for signs that they were no longer alone. His gut feelings told him that running from those dead things when he woke up would probably have been the easiest part of this fucked up game. Kenny pledged, there and then, that if he did survive this lunacy, Rossini was going to end up properly dead.

Diane had already reached the building. He slowed down and stared at it, trying to work out where he’d seen it before. Kenny sighed before running through the open door. It had taken him a few moments but the memory did seep into his brain. This was a replica of the palace that used to sit in the center of the city. The original building had long since gone. The authorities had filled the interior with chained-up convicts, cut them all and left a trail of blood up to the doors. The waking corpses in the city had converged on the palace like flies around shit. Once they’d bolted the doors, the officers had set the building on fire.

“What the hell is this doing here?”

Diane ignored him and pushed past Kenny to shut and bolt the door. He watched her run over to a large painting of some old monarch and try to pull it off the wall.