Thirteen Roses Book Four: Alone: A Paranormal Zombie Saga (2 page)

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.
 

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.