Thirteen Roses Book Four: Alone: A Paranormal Zombie Saga (25 page)

She’d never been keen on history in school. She hadn’t studied much before she left, but she already knew she didn’t like it. Coming to London, living in the shadow of buildings that had stood longer than anyone could remember, had given her a new appreciation of things. She’d sneaked onto one of the river cruises and sat near enough a family that anyone checking would think she was with them. They went up and down the river and she’d learned all about how important it was to London. She’d learned about Fleet Street and the Tower and days when the streets were full of shit and disease.
 

Being homeless in those days must have been so much worse. After, she’d spent weeks on Embankment just staring into the water and imagining her life a hundred years ago, or two hundred years ago. Now as she paced through the darkness, lapping waves on her left and the growl of zombies to her right, she was reminded of those times and shook her head. Had those really been the bad times?
 

She knew where she was going. She needed a way across the river and she had to be quick. There were always a few motorboats tied up beside the floating restaurants, but she had to get across first. The tide was out and as long as she kept close to the wooden hoardings, she was safe from the mud. And the zombies.
 

She reached the next bridge soon enough and looked up. The railway bridge coming out of Embankment station was a huge thing made of rusty iron girders. It reminded her of the old black and white photos she’d seen of the skyscrapers being built in New York. It was high up and looked in no way safe. But there were no zombies there.
 

The hoardings had become a concrete wall, but it was ridged and covered in huge screw heads. She started up it, one hand hold at a time, ignoring the burning in her shoulders and the shivering that wracked her body. The growls of the zombies drew nearer and louder as she climbed, but they were still the other side of the wall. So long as she didn’t go down there, she was fine.
 

She kept repeating that as the skin on her fingers was rubbed away and they started to bleed. Her foot slipped more than once and every time it did, her chest thumped against the concrete. Her boobs were killing by the time she reached the top and she got one leg over. She lay flat, straddling the concrete face down and sucking in oxygen.
 

The iron bridge was close above her and the light almost non-existent. She turned her head and peered at the path. She saw joggers, still wearing sweat bands and still running, a week after they died. There were families pushing prams. Some contained tiny zombie babies that made her stomach lurch and her face heat up. Others were empty and she wasn’t sure if they were better or worse.

When her heart slowed and the burning in her fingers dampened to a low sting, she sat up and examined the bridge. The girders were far enough apart for her to scramble straight through. She stood, head going through the gap, and pulled herself up as quickly as possible. She paused, feet resting on the girder opposite, and listened. The growling hadn’t changed.
 

It didn’t matter, the zombies would never get up here. But she was alone. She was out in the city on her own and the thought of them getting her scent and coming after her was enough for her to almost wet herself. Her sword was still in her scabbard, despite the swim, and she gripped the hilt, drawing strength from it.
 

Krystal shivered. She needed to keep moving or her wet clothes would drag her down until she curled up on the girders and went to sleep. She pinched herself and set off. The girders were huge and plentiful and she made good time, glancing down into the rushing water every time she was stupid enough to forget not to.
 

She tried to see if Luke was still clinging to the island, but beneath the bridge was only shadows. He had to be. He couldn’t die, that would be ridiculous. He was the Devil. The Devil didn’t die. Except she wasn’t sure if he was anymore. She only sort of understood what was going on, but she was pretty certain he was who he said he was.
 

Except he was human as well. And not evil. At least, not so she’d seen. She knew he messed with Jackson and Dave pretty badly, but they weren’t exactly nice people anyway. He wasn’t all fire and horns and stuff. The way he looked at her was nice, too. He cared, in a way that wasn’t dependent upon her being any particular thing. She hadn’t known what that felt like until the last few days, but now she got it from him and Bayleigh as well.
 

The north bank was approaching quickly and she focused on getting there in one piece. There were more zombies here and getting down from the bridge was going to be tougher. There was no handy wall beneath her. There was, however, the foot bridge that crossed the river right beside the railway bridge. There were zombies on it, but not many, and if she was quick she could run from them.
 

She clambered to the outside of the railway bridge and hesitated. Huge concrete posts thrust out of the river between the two bridges, ending at the same height as them in a flat platform. But there was a gap between the two, where single steel bars ran from the bridges to the concrete. It was only river beneath, but with the tide out it was a fall of twenty feet and she didn’t fancy that, not twice in one night.
 

She climbed out of the girders and balanced on the steel pole. At least the top was flat. She swallowed and wiped the sweat that cooled as soon as it appeared on her forehead. Arms outstretched and staring forward, she scurried towards the foot bridge. The wind whipped at her as it rushed up the river and she swayed, but kept moving. The river was no longer a benign friend, but a greedy presence, eager to swallow her up. She tried to take slow, calming breaths, but couldn’t stop panting. One step and then another, one by one.
 

She reached the concrete and collapsed, legs shaking and heart pounding like some rich businessman had offered her a seat in his car if she’d only… she sniffed, groaned and rubbed her face. There were some things she’d never miss.
 

She was halfway there and still not spotted by any zombies. The metal pole that connected the concrete to the footbridge was round and considerably narrower. This was the tough one. She contemplated what she’d do if she fell in the river. The most likely thing was that the tide would drag her away and she’d go under. She was too tired, this time around. It would be peaceful as the cold seeped into her and the world faded. It was be much easier than what lay ahead.
 

She grinned and shook her head. This was easy. This was all easy. She put her foot on the pole and stepped off the concrete. Immediately the wind seemed to pick up, snatching at her short hair and whipping it around. It ran greedy fingers through her clothes and teased and pulled. She kept moving, one step after another, but her knees were wobbling and she kept blinking as her hair caught her eyes. Every time she blinked, her balance slipped and she wobbled more.
 

Krystal knew she was going to fall just before it happened. She tried to bring her right foot around but she didn’t move it far enough out and it caught the back of her left foot. For a brief moment she balanced, right leg flailing, then she went. She saw the water rushing up, then her chest struck the pole, her arms and legs wrapped around it, and she clung on.
 

She spun until her body hung beneath the pole. For a second she thought she was going to lose her grip, but her hands tightened around the metal and she clamped tight to it. She locked one foot over the other and hung for a moment, chest heaving and wondering whether she’d have any nipples left by the end of the night. Every part of her complained, but the more sensitive places screamed the loudest.
 

She went hand over hand, shoulders trembling as she snail’s paced it closer to the foot bridge. One foot slipped and she almost lost it, squeaking as she tried to wrap herself back around the pole. She hauled her errant leg back up and resumed her anguished progress. She lost herself to the night, eyes fixed on the clouds above.
 

She found herself puzzling about the weather. It had been lovely this past week, but the clouds above signalled rain for tomorrow. She hadn’t thought about it too much, which was unusual for her. Her entire life was dominated by the weather. They were supposed to be leaving for the country tomorrow. Would rain make that any harder? Of course it would, rain made everything harder.
 

Her hand bumped something and she almost let go to grab her sword. Then she looked up and realised she’d reached the footbridge. With a sob, she grabbed the far chunkier frame of the bridge and hauled herself up until she sat on the outside, legs dangling over the river that was somehow her friend again.
 

When the shaking subsided, she rose to a crouch and peered onto the bridge between the metal rungs. She could make out two zombies. One strolled in a suit up the centre of the bridge. It was more of a shuffle than a stroll, but the lean of his body made it quite clear what he’d been doing before he died. The other zombie stood behind a metal trolley still bearing plastic cups filled with roast chestnuts and almonds.
 

Did nuts go bad? She was tempted to grab some before she imagined the look on Luke’s face. She opted for the other direction instead, towards the shore. She shimmied over the railing, and her feet touching the solid concrete was one of the nicest feelings she’d ever had. She ran, no longer caring if she was spotted. She reached the long staircase and saw two more zombies climbing them.
 

She jumped onto the silver railings and slid, leaning back to speed her descent. She pulled her sword out as she flew down and set her arm back in preparation for the blow. She hit the flat section halfway down and nearly went straight over the edge. Krystal flung out her hands and steadied herself, still hurtling down the railings.
 

Halfway down the next section she was near enough to take a swipe. The blade bit into the zombie’s face and knocked it over. She didn’t look back to see whether she’d killed it. Her eyes widened as the bottom drew rapidly closer. Her arms were held up to keep her balanced but now she grabbed hold of the rail to slow her descent.
 

The movement unbalanced her and she tipped off the rail, slamming onto her feet on the last few steps. She ran wildly and somehow succeeded in not pitching straight over onto her face. She came to a stop, heaving in breaths, and burst out giggling. That was awesome.
 

A zombie lurched towards her wearing Lycra and a cycling helmet, and she lost it, breaking out into another spate of giggles. It attacked, clawing at her with hands that could no longer grip the handlebars, and she lashed out, chopping both off and then stepping to the side. Her second blow sent its head, helmet and all, rolling across the pavement to bump into the steps.
 

With a nod of satisfaction, she raced down to the river and peered over the black wrought-iron railings. Two boats bobbed in the shadow of one of the floating restaurants. She punched the air, scrambled straight over the barrier, and ran along the wooden wharf beside the larger ship. She jumped into one of the boats and stared at the engine. She hadn’t a clue how these things worked, but she’d seen people doing it.
 

There was a pull rope and beside it a lever she could turn. She turned it and hauled on the rope. She got nothing the first couple of times and was about to turn the lever back when the third pull got a coughing sound from the engine. She kept trying, yanking the rope as hard as she could and swearing louder each time it didn’t work.
 

The engine caught, sounding incredibly similar to her motorbike. She frowned down at the water. Her motorbike that was now at the bottom of the Thames. She could find another, but she’d liked that one. She hurried with the knot that tied her to the quay, her shivering fingers feeling like sausages as she fumbled. Finally the knot slipped free and she took the handle protruding from the engine.
 

She squeezed what she hoped was the throttle. The boat darted forwards and thumped into the side of the one next to it. She grinned sheepishly and peered up at the bank. A couple of zombies were playing the audience, trying and failing to clamber over the railings to get to her. She turned away, got the boat pointed in the right direction, and headed out onto the river.
 

At first the tide dragged her away from the bridge. She put a little more power on and it pulled in the direction she wanted. She turned into the river and headed straight towards the bridge, only turning to the left as she drew near. The closer she got, the faster her heart went as she squinted for Luke.
 

He was there! Only his head and arms were above the water and he made no sign he’d heard her when she shouted. She drew the boat nearer and nearer until she could almost touch him. She didn’t dare let go of the tiller. It felt like she’d go flying downstream the moment she let the power off.
 

‘You’re gonna have to swim and get in.’

His head turned slowly and she saw in the dim light his pale face and lips the same colour. He wasn’t swimming anywhere.
 

‘Can you just grab the boat? That’s all you’ve got to do, just grab the boat.’

She got closer still and one of his hands came away from the island. He fumbled with the edge of the boat, fingers failing to close over it. Eventually he got a grip. There was a brief moment when Krystal struggled to hold the boat steady against the tide, while Luke was torn between his two places of safety. Then he let go of the island and grabbed the boat.
 

Krystal leapt to the front and the boat spun away from the bridge, turning a full circle as the river caught hold. The next bridge was coming fast. She knelt in the front and grabbed Luke’s arms, trying to heave him from the water. At first he did nothing, staring up at her blankly. She glanced behind and saw the huge concrete posts looming large. If they hit one, the boat would fall apart and they’d be back where they started.