Zombie Ocean (Book 2): The Lost (7 page)

She stood at the edge and looked down, to a dusty neighborhood where the walls were made of corrugated tin and the roofs were wrapped in place with black tarpaper. The car that fell through was upside down, showing its dark underbelly and wheels like a tipped-over toy.

She kept walking. The sun was low off to the side, warming her comfortingly, and the ocean breeze kept her cool. The road descended and she came to a street lined with tall buildings. Bits of paper fluttered around like secret birds.

There were two gray people banging against a glass door in the middle of the block, trapped inside. It was some kind of restaurant, but she couldn't read the writing at all. There were red lanterns in the window and pictures of fish painted onto the wall. One of the people was the chef, she knew that from his apron, and one looked like a waitress, but both had their trousers off. They looked funny.

She tried to let them out but the door wouldn't open. She stood and shrugged at them.

Thump thump, they said.

Their faces looked sad.

She walked around the side of the building, looking for a back door. Perhaps she could lead them out that way, like she'd led her father. Down a shadowy weed-sprung alley she walked, past large blue trash boxes on wheels, until she reached the side door of the battered brick building.

It was metal painted a cracked blue, with a round and dented handle. She turned it and the door swung open outward easily, leading to a dark and musty corridor walled with pipes. Further on there was a shard of weak evening light coming in through the front windows.

"It's OK now," Anna called down the hall. Her voice echoed weirdly off the pipes. "You can come this way. Pull your pants up, if you like."

No sound of footsteps followed. "The ocean's really close," she added. "Just a hop-skip away."

She was about to step in and lead them out by the hand, when a low growl sounded from behind.

It sounded familiar. It came again, perhaps coming from between the two big blue trash boxes. Anna started back down the alley and looked into the shadowy gap between them.

Something was standing there: a dog. At its feet squirmed a handful of baby dogs, puppies like hungry little oysters, and Anna's heart melted. They looked just like the Hatter. At once she started to cry.

"I missed you," she said.

Then the dog jumped at her. It was so fast she couldn't do a thing. Its jaws closed on her head and bit down, jerking her neck savagely. There was a horrible crunch, red sprayed out before her like shooting stars, and everything went black.

And came back. She was crawling on the rough tarmac alley, with weeds between her fingers and blood in her eyes. It hurt to look and it hurt to move. Something was snarling somewhere, something was groaning.

With immense effort she rolled to her side, and saw. Two gray people were fighting the dog. It was the chef and the waitress with their trousers down. The chef lay on his back with blood all over his white apron, holding to the dog's neck while it tore at his belly. Long stringy bits of gray meat came out of him, like rotten sausages.

The dog was biting him and he was trying to bite it too. He had his mouth up against its back thigh, chewing at furry meat and spilling deep red blood. The waitress was on her knees beside them, bleeding darkly from the throat and twitching strangely. Her glowing white eyes stuttered on and off like a broken flashlight. She held the dog's back paws but didn't seem to be doing much more.

It was ghastly and Anna only wanted to crawl further away, to find somewhere that her thumping head could grow calm, like a nice bed with tight covers to burrow into, but that wasn't fair.

These two had saved her. Now she had to save them.

She pushed dizzily to her feet. Blood dripped from her head to the dark tarmac. It ran hot down her cheek and the back of her neck, staining her blue Alice dress. She raised a hand to the wound and it came back sopping red.

That wasn't good.

The dog was growling and the waitress was lying down now, hardly holding onto its back legs at all. The chef was still biting but making much less progress than the dog. It grabbed a good hank of his innards and shook its head violently, sending shreds of gray spraying out like cereal-stars.

Anna stumbled over. A half-brick lay by the chef's side and she picked it up.

"Bad dog," she said.

It looked up at her with its snout covered in gray, squatting to jump again.

She hit it in the head with the brick. It wasn't hard, and swinging her arm almost made her vomit with dizziness, but the brick connected with a solid thunk and the dog stopped growling.

The chef bit into its shoulder and it whined. Anna hit it again. Thunk. It drooped deeper into the chef's clutches. He got his hands around its neck and pulled it in.

Thunk, one more time and he got his teeth into its throat and bit.

Blood spat out and covered his face, and the dog calmed quickly. Anna fell to her knees. It was sad to see another Hatter die, but what choice did she have?

"Thank you," she murmured.

The chef ducked his head and ate, just like her Daddy. The waitress clicked and shifted on and off. The dog went still and died. For a time there was only the horrible sound of chewing, and the mewling of the babies.

Then the chef lost interest in the mother dog. Instead he turned to the babies. Anna didn't realize what was happening until he picked one of them up, and held it up before him just like her father had so long ago.

He opened his bloody mouth.

"No!" Anna shouted.

She lurched round the waitress and hit the chef in the arm with the brick as hard she could. He grip faltered and the little dog fell, smacking against the tarmac with a crunch.

"You don't do that!" Anna shouted. Even her voice made the dizziness swell, like it was a wave she was riding atop, but she couldn't stop now. She waved the brick at him. "They're just babies, we don't eat babies do we?"

He leaned over to pick up the puppy again. It was whining hard now. It looked so much like the Hatter Anna couldn't keep the tears from her eyes.

She hit the chef again, this time jumping and crunching him in the throat. He choked and turned his glowing eyes to her. She shoved him, barely enough to rock him back, but enough for her to grab up the injured puppy and dart with it into the gap between the trash boxes.

There was just enough room for her to turn around and meet him with the brick as he wriggled face first inwards.

"No!" Anna shouted again, and hit him a third time, right on the head like she'd done with the dog. His skull cracked and he faltered for a second. Anna looked down at the puppies, sitting in a moldy cardboard box, and scooped the box up too. They were heavier than she expected, and the box was sodden so it was hard to keep it together even with her arms crossed beneath it like a sling.

The chef grasped at her ankles and she gasped, then stamped down hard on his knuckles. His grip released but still he inched in closer.

"Leave us alone!" Anna shouted, and kicked at his head once, twice. Her foot bounced off uselessly. She backed up against the wall and looked frantically for an escape. To her left there was a tiny gap between the trash box and the bricks. It was too narrow, but maybe…

She got one shoulder in and twisted her body like a key. The back corner of the box shifted, though at the front it opened the path wider to the chef, and he came in fast. Anna forced the rest of her body into the gap, pressed so close to the brick she could smell the lichen, and twisted like a key again.

The far corner shifted, the way out opened up, and she sped through it with the chef close behind. At the blue door she cornered hard and leaped into the cool pipe-hall, spilled the puppies onto the floor, then leaned out to grab the door handle a final time. The chef ran andreached out as she dragged the door shut.

It slammed on his fingers with a massive metal bang, the latch clicked, and Anna was plunged into darkness. With the last of her energy she lay down on the cold stone floor, careful not to squash any of the puppies beneath her, and laid her hot and spinning head down to the ground.

6. LITTLE HATTERS

Into the darkness, the oysters snuffled and mewled close by. The Walrus and the Carpenter were so hungry. She reached down and patted them. They were so warm and downy and…

Anna opened her eyes and looked around. Her head felt like jelly and the floor was cold and hard. She sat up, careful not to nudge the puppies, who were all wedged in close to her belly. How much time had passed? The end of the hall was lit with bright sunlight. She must have slept all night.

She looked down at the puppies and counted six of them, wiggly shapes in the dimness. Her vision was still blurry though, so it was possible she'd counted several of them more than once.

"You're all very wobbly aren't you?" she asked them, chucking them under the chins and rubbing their little bellies. "I mean, very friendly." Her voice felt thick and slurred, like she was speaking through honey, and her hand was jerky. Her head didn't feel right. "Not like mommy."

They licked at her hand.

"Let's get you into the cold. I mean out of…"

On her knees, she found their box and lifted them slowly and carefully back into it. Each one fitted in her palm beautifully, their little bellies settling against her fingers like bags of hot porridge. The double vision was fading and she only tried to pick up a puppy that wasn't there twice. When she was convinced she had them all, she picked the box up and stood, but almost fell. Her head pounded hotly.

"Stop that," she told it, "I've no time for you at all."

She carried the puppies very carefully, shuffling down the hall and hardly lifting her feet. A little way down she noticed one on the floor that wasn't moving, and she knelt and stroked him. He was cold and his back felt twisted.

That was her fault. She'd dropped him, or the chef had, or somebody had.

She emerged past a toilet door, then a swing door for the kitchen, into the main part of the restaurant. The walls were decorated with red and gold dragons, and a padded leather sofa ran round the outer wall and under the window. Round wooden tables were spread through the middle, with gold-framed leather chairs set neatly around them. Velvet curtains hung at the window edges. It reminded her a little of home.

"Here," she said, and carried the pups to the sofa where the midday sun was shining. She laid the box down then caught herself from falling again. On her knees the world swirled. The sun pierced her eyes painfully.

The puppies mewled pitifully up at her.

"Water," she mumbled, nodding. She dumped her pack and took a swig of water. The bottle was almost empty. She took a small dish from the nearest table and poured the last water into it.

"Here you go," she said to the puppies, but they didn't try to drink. Instead they snuffled closer to her hand and licked and sucked at her skin. It was funny and strange and she rubbed their heads.

"Don't be silly," she said, though actually she was very happy. "Have some water, it's right here. I'll get food."

She headed to the kitchen. Through the swing door it was darker. A long metal counter stretched down the middle of a narrow space, with either side of it more counters attached to the walls, with a sink built-in, a large fridge-thing, and a larder at the back filled with packets of something. It smelled like rust and iron.

What did puppies like to eat? Her head sloshed too much to think clearly, and she'd never fed the Hatter so she wasn't sure. Babies liked milk but there hadn't been any good milk for ages.

She pulled open the heavy fridge door, taller even than her, and was knocked back by the stink. This was normal. In the trays at the bottom was a black mulch that had probably once been vegetables. The milk cartons were a deep orange inside, with furry black stuff at the top.

She'd poured these out before. They were all globular and bitty and smelled like death.

Nope. There were a few cans of Coke but she doubted the puppies wanted that.

Heading toward the larder she caught sight of something terrifying. For a second she tensed, ready to fight with her brick again, then she realized it was her own reflection showing in a bit of shiny metal wall.

She looked bad.

"Anna?" she asked.

This other Anna leaned in just as she did. Her face was a mask of blood, and her hair too. Blood was all over her with hardly a clear bit of skin. Her blue dress was dark and crusty with it, and it had plainly all come from her head. She reached up tentatively, and watched her bloody double do the same thing. She felt like shouting at it to stop copying her.

Her head was hot and tight feeling. Her hair had gone crackly, like her Daddy's beard. There was a bump in the side above her ear, then a depression around the back of her head that was shocking. There were several depressions actually. She twisted her head and looked in the mirrored metal, and saw grooves dug in her skin and bone.

She almost fainted. There were actual holes in her head.

She lurched away and sat near the puppies, panting hard. The mommy dog had bitten through the bones in her head?

She touched the hot holes again. They definitely went in deeper than they should, like extra earholes. They tingled to the touch, but there wasn't the pain she expected.

Wasn't her head where she kept her brain? Her brain was still thinking, though, so something was working, even if it wasn't working very well.

"What do you think?" she asked one of the puppies, who was leaning out over the edge of his box. His little eyes were still closed and he was adorable. "You don't want to eat my brain do you?"

He sneezed. For a moment Anna was taken aback; the high-pitched squeak had been the last reply she'd expected. Then she laughed out loud.

"OK, you're Pig," she said, thinking of the Duchess' baby in Wonderland, which sneezed for all the pepper in its soup.  She looked at the others and went on.