Thirteen Roses Book Four: Alone: A Paranormal Zombie Saga (13 page)

‘Yeah, well, shove your curiosity.’

He went to push past her and she put her hand on his chest. It was like putting her hand on a horse’s flank. ‘Someone’s been murdered.’

To his credit, Jackson looked shocked. It lasted all of five seconds before he asked who. Was that a good sign or a bad one? He handled the news well but asked the most natural question someone who didn’t know about it would ask. But then again, he was a dodgy bastard who had plenty of experience at lying to people.

‘One of the ladies. A girl called Sian.’

‘Zombies?’

‘No. Someone pushed her eyes in so hard they went through to her brain. Someone who was strong and aggressive and could hold her down while he did it.’

‘Any idea who it was?’

He was playing it very cool. She didn’t know when she’d flipped from blaming Dave, but it was Jackson or no one at all. ‘Actually, I was thinking it might be you.’

The moments the words left her mouth she knew they were the wrong ones. She could have talked around the subject, given him a chance to reveal himself. Instead she’d just barrelled in and now he was staring at her like she’d… well, accused him of murder. It was going to be difficult to explain why.
 

‘You think it was me? Why is that I wonder? I’m black, so that doesn’t help. And I’m big. It’s easy to imagine me holding someone down, isn’t it? How about my past life, that hanging over me too?’ He looked from her to Alex, lips curled back. ‘So which is it? Are you racist, or simple, or just unwilling to accept I’ve changed. I’ve done my penance—’

‘No, you haven’t. I don’t know what you did in your ‘past’ life, but you’ve done no penance. You’ve just been lucky there aren’t any police around to arrest you.’

‘Isn’t that a shame. My penance is internal and you got no idea what I’ve been through inside. How dare you accuse me—’

‘Stop shouting. If it wasn’t you, then who was it?’

‘I don’t bloody know, how the hell should I know? How big was the lady? Maybe there are other ones with the strength to do it. Maybe it was two of them. Maybe it was Dave, or Alex.’

He waved his hand past her and she glanced back at Alex. He shifted from foot to foot, but didn’t try to deny it. And why should he? ‘He was with me when it happened.’

‘Oh yeah, he’s been with you all day. Probably all night as well. Maybe if you weren’t spending all your time shagging you’d have stopped it from happening.’

‘What? Don’t make this about us. Until you can convince me otherwise I think you murdered Sian and—’

‘Yeah, you already said that. But unless you can convince me otherwise, I ain’t staying here to be insulted.’

He shoved past her and stomped off down the corridor.
 

That had been a couple of hours ago. Then they’d left. She hadn’t really believed it was going to happen until she stepped out into the corridor and watched them form up like they were going to war. Jackson had some of the devices. She didn’t know how many, and when she grabbed him and asked, he refused to speak to her, waving her away.
 

She hadn’t meant to shout at the ladies. But her self-control had gone the way of her exhaustion. There was nothing she could do and she knew it before she shouted, but she tried anyway. And then they walked away and she was left deflated and defeated. After her brief chat with Dave she was also pissed off. With a long sigh, she strode away down the corridor in search of Alex.
 

She found him with Sophie and paused in the doorway, watching them. Sophie was a simple soul, she’d decided. Not stupid, but she didn’t seem to question anything. She was probably great in school, but in the big bad world Bayleigh could imagine her getting swallowed up. Watching her now, her big brown eyes turned up to Alex in a way that made her squirm, she knew she was close to the truth.
 

She turned her gaze his way. He was young, too young for her. She’d known it long before she started wondering about them, but she’d chosen to ignore it. Now she was regretting it. He had his easy smile on and he was smart. Probably too smart for her as well. She turned away and sniffed, letting out another long sigh. She wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t. She’d grabbed two hours last night and that had been more than enough.
 

She could check the devices and see what Jackson had left them. The moment she thought about it, she flushed. How hadn’t she done it already? Maybe Alex had. She shook her head. Not a chance, not while Sophie was there to give him her big smile and big eyes.
 

She grabbed a sandwich, forcing herself to eat as she strode to the first hiding spot. Ten minutes later she’d moved the other one she found to make sure the main rooms and surrounding bedrooms were covered. She moved Ed from their private room, which was now only half covered. They’d just got a bunch of bedrooms back, so they took one and Ed settled himself on one of the beds, reading happily.
 

She headed for reception, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. She couldn’t decide how Ed was handling things. He was quiet and had spent most of the last five days in a book. He seemed happy with that. But his face was naturally sunny and his long hair hid any other expressions he may be making, so she just didn’t know.
 

She found it easy to chat to Krystal. The girl had wanted to talk and told her all about her childhood, which was too horrible for Bayleigh to even contemplate. But Ed was young, and seemed even younger when compared to Krystal. She didn’t even know how to start the conversation. How could you ask someone in the middle of the zombie apocalypse if they were happy?

She crept down the stairs, crouching to see the front door before she got too low. No zombies. Yet. She rushed the rest of the way and dashed around the reception desk. She hauled it open and swore as she stared into the empty drawer. He’d taken three of them. That absolute bastard had left them with only two devices and more than half the ladies. That the two upstairs were freshly charged mollified her only slightly.
 

She checked for the metal pole and found it tucked down one side. She lifted it, testing the weight like she knew what to do with it. She was tempted to wait for the zombies to start arriving. Hitting something was just what she needed right now. Needed was the right word. It wasn’t just to let off steam, she needed to
do
something.
 

The spell had changed her. She was sleeping four out of every twenty four hours and eating maybe twice while she was awake. She’d lost weight but not so she looked bad. And she buzzed. It had almost faded into the background, but any time she focused on her body she felt it, like electricity running through her veins. She hadn’t told the others, they’d only laugh at her complete inability to describe it.

But there was no better way to say it. She was different. But how different? Maybe she should find out. This was a good a time as any, and there was no one around to laugh if it went wrong.
 

She leant the pole back up and set herself, ready to run. When she set off, her eyes were fixed on the opposite wall of reception. It was maybe thirty metres away. She reached it in a couple of seconds and wasn’t even breathing hard. She shook her head, turned around, and did the same on the way back. She grinned. She was fast. But then she already knew that. What else could she do?

She headed for the row of chairs sat against one wall. They weren’t bolted down, so she grabbed the two in the centre, one arm beneath each, and heaved. They didn’t move. She tried again and her back protested. No super strength then. She messed around, trying to move things with her mind or set fire to stuff in the same way, before concluding that speed was what she’d got.
 

How the hell had it happened? It all came from the spell the doctor did. It was magic, real magic. How did magic exist and everyone not know about it? She needed to ask Luke and get the info, though right now, the ability to break the 100 metres sprint record was a little more important. Not that anyone would know or care.

She chuckled. She was the fastest human on the planet. If only that was as impressive as it sounded.
 

This wasn’t real. None of this was real. She could have handled just the zombies, or just Lucifer, but combine the two and add in some mysterious religious fanatics with magic and she was going crazy.
 

She wanted to run some more.
 

She was about to race off through the hospital when a zombie came in through the sliding doors. It lurched this way and that, its smart suit still in remarkably good condition. She loped to the desk, noting as she got there that the zombie had only taken one step.
 

She gripped the bar and stepped out to face it. This was it. She could do this. If Krystal could go all Lara Croft then so could she. And she wanted that sword. She hesitated another moment then ran around behind the zombie. It barely reacted, eyes still fixed on where she’d been standing. She slammed the metal pole over its head as hard as she could.
 

The skull gave way but the zombie stayed on its feet and swung around. She danced back out of reach, staying well clear of its hands. It attacked and she ran around it. It felt a little like doing PE at school, running around a post or something. She got another clear shot at its head and this time she brought the pole from right behind her head.
 

The skull caved in, the pole sinking deep into the softness beneath. The familiar smell of rot burst free and she gagged as she hauled her weapon free. The corpse dropped and she stepped back. That was more like it. She could do this. She’d keep the pole. With no device to keep them out, the zombies would be back in the hospital soon. Better to have their defences as near the field as possible.
 

With a grin, she turned away from the corpse and ran up the stairs. She took them three at a time and wasn’t the least bit puffed out when she reached the top. For a few brief minutes, the troubles with Jackson and the ladies fled, and left her feeling light on her feet. But they came rushing back when she arrived in the field and heard the angry voices of the remaining ladies raised in argument.
 

She almost turned away. Almost. She set the pole against the door of the main room and stepped in.
 

Krystal

Luke was unconscious. She could handle that. She could handle all of this, easy. Trying hard to keep her hands and her breathing steady, she inspected the house. In each room, she made sure the windows were locked and the curtains drawn. It was like making a squat.
 

She only done one squat. She’d lasted a couple of weeks before the guys she went in with decided they had their own little kingdom and suggested she owed them. She hadn’t liked the smell either. There was something about living in a building that wasn’t a home anymore that made people disrespect it. At least the hostels were cleaned. Outside was even better, so long as the sun was shining.
 

They weren’t hiding from the police here, though. She never thought she’d wish it was the police but that would have been so much better. Anything would have been better that zombies. The downstairs was secure and she tiptoed up. She wasn’t expecting anything but it paid to be cautious. It always paid to be cautious.
 

There were three bedrooms up here and the first contained a double bed and clothes scattered on a chair. She drew the curtains and glanced down into the back garden. It was still empty but in the garden beyond there were two zombies. They had bats in their hands and stood idle either side of a Swingball post. The tennis ball hung on its string as both zombies feebly batted at nothing. It brought a lump to her throat so she closed the curtains completely.
 

The next bedroom was tiny and contained a cot and a chest of drawers. She drew the curtains and turned back to the cot. The lump in her throat was replaced with sick so she scrambled into the bathroom and spat it into the sink. She gripped the porcelain with both hands, staring at her distorted reflection in the taps.
 

She’d imagined it. There was no way, there was just no way.
 

She had to check.
 

She couldn’t go back in there.
 

She let go of the sink and stared at her hands. They shook, trembling like she was ninety years old and suffering from drink, and she wasn’t surprised. She swallowed, tasted sick and spat again. She washed her mouth out and swilled the sick away. Then she began to clean the sink with pieces of toilet roll. Anything to avoid what she knew she had to do. Finally she dumped the toilet roll in the loo and stepped into the hallway.
 

She waited outside the room, hoping Luke would wake and call her, or a zombie would attack downstairs.
 

She was actually hoping a zombie would attack.
 

Her forehead creased and she stepped back into the baby’s room. It lay in the cot, a tiny bundle with greying skin and deep sunk eyes. As she looked down into the cot, it opened its mouth, showing red raw gums. That was the final straw and she couldn’t stop the tears from welling up.
 

Did zombies grow up? Would it get bigger and bigger until it could climb out the cot? Or was it doomed to be that age forever, lying here until whatever reserves it had left ran out? That begged another question, one that drew her mind blessedly away from the truth of what she had to do. What happened if zombies didn’t eat?

They had formed packs and were hunting, running down the slower and weaker zombies and feasting on them. But what would happen to a baby like this? It had lain here for six days and was still alive, so how long would it last? She wanted the answer to be that it would soon be done and she could leave it. But she wasn’t convinced. If it had gone this long, who was to say it wouldn’t still be wriggling in another six days?
 

She turned back to the cot and the pathetic thing inside it. This was Etienne’s fault. His and the demon and angel Luke had called his friends. They had done this and she wanted nothing more than to find them and kill them. Not just for this, but for making her do what she had to now.