Blood at the Premiere: A Day One Undead Adventure (25 page)

She straddles his waist in a position almost loving to a casual glance from an observer walking past. Except this is a night of terror and people are too busy, too worried, too full of fear and terror to even notice the battering being delivered. Besides, the new floodlights make the shadows deeper, darker, and in those shadows she rains hard punches down onto a face that has needed a battering for the last few hours. She hits for the callous nature shown for Rose. She hits for the comments he made. She hits for the bad things he said to Bennie. She hits for Brian who said he would back her up if she stood up to him, but Brian isn’t here now. Brian is dead. Brian gave his life to defend these people, and Dolan was one of them. She hits until Dolan doesn’t cry out or try to cover his pulped face. She hits an unconscious man unable to defend himself and only then does a strong hand gently grip her arm and she feels herself being lifted away.

‘Enough.’ The deep voice of a huge man with a bald head staring down with an approving nod. ‘Good work, though, miss.’

‘He had that coming,’ Big Chris says, stepping next to Clarence to stare down at Dolan.

‘Is that the bearded tosser?’ Malcolm asks, walking over. ‘Doc Roberts said he was being a complete pest in the square. Demanding a helicopter and…’

‘Bearded tosser?’ Big Chris asks, pushing a hand through his own thick beard.

‘Well, you know,’ Malcolm says with a grin.

‘He hit Henrietta,’ Bennie blurts, making the three men look over at him then slowly over to Henrietta still flushed with the rage pulsing through her. ‘And said she was a whore…’

‘Did he now?’ Clarence asks in a tone that suggests he would like the unconscious man to wake up again. He bends over with one enormous hand gripping the front of Dolan’s shirt and lifts the man with ease up and onto his shoulder. ‘You want him back?’ Clarence asks Henrietta and Bennie.

Henrietta shakes her head. ‘No…’

‘Fair one. We’ll sort it,’ Big Chris says and stops with that familiar quizzical stare Henrietta has got so used to. ‘Do I know you?’

‘No.’

‘You look like Henrietta…’

‘I said no.’

He pauses, smiles and nods. ‘Fair one. Get some water. You’ll find some clothes somewhere. You’re falling out of your dress, miss,’ he says without a glance down at her chest.

‘Okay,’ she says, holding his gaze levelly.

The three men walk off. A giant carrying a bullying coward and holding an assault rifle that looks like a toy. Calm authority oozes from them. Calm efficiency of people who get the job done. Strong people who use that strength to protect those that cannot defend themselves.

‘We’ll get cleaned up, yeah?’ she says, picking up her axe before reaching out to take his hand.

‘Okay, Henrietta. Can we…’

‘No vodka.’

‘Oh, okay, Henrietta.’

He sips the black coffee. His eyes are bloodshot and still glazed with the expression of a puppy watching the world around him. Hundreds of people move fast to hammer boards over windows and carry the sick and injured to the square. Open fires burn to heat water to clean wounds and sterilise dressings. The night has gone. The darkness has vanished to a promise of a blue sky and a glorious day of sunshine and warmth.

‘Bennie?’ a girl asks, rushing past him with her family. ‘Oh my god…that was Bennie.’

‘Hi,’ Bennie says, lifting his mug with a smile.

‘Who was that?’

‘Huh?’ Bennie asks, turning to look in the house from the doorway in which he stands.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Henri says, walking out to stand at his side. The make-up is gone. The curls in her hair are now held in place in a tight ponytail. The blood is scrubbed away. The dress is gone, too. Instead she wears simple black jeans found in a drawer and a simple vest top that she looks down at and tuts for the curve of her huge chest showing too well. She steps into the hallway and takes the thin black leather jacket from the coat hook. It’ll be a hot day but the jacket will hide her curves and give some protection to her skin. She goes back to Bennie to stare out at the chaos of the square. The axe is held across her shoulder, a hand on her hip as she tuts and sighs heavy and long.

‘Ready?’ she asks.

‘What for?’ Bennie asks quietly, still sipping his coffee and hoping she doesn’t smell the whiskey he poured in.

‘No idea,’ she murmurs. ‘How’s the coffee?’

‘Er…s’nice.’

‘Yeah?’ she asks, turning to look at him with an eyebrow arched and a smile tugging the corner of her mouth. She knows. He knows she knows. She knows he knows she knows.

‘Fine,’ he says, pouring it on the floor.

‘Come on, Bennie.’ She takes his hand and steps out to a new day and new world knowing that every pair of eyes will be on him and not her.

First published in the United Kingdom in 2016 by Canelo

Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
57 Shepherds Lane
Beaconsfield, Bucks HP9 2DU
United Kingdom

Copyright © 2016 by RR Haywood

The moral right of RR Haywood to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781911420019

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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