Thirteen Roses Book Five: Home: A Paranormal Zombie Saga (13 page)

‘I’m not a murderer. I wasn’t told about the plague and had I been, things would have gone very differently.’

‘So what, because you’re brainless, that makes it okay?’

‘Nothing’s okay, in case you hadn’t noticed. But we want to speak to you and we can’t do that while you have a sword in your hand.’

‘Well that’s a shame, be seeing you.’

She turned towards the Pret and heard the cocking of a gun. It fired and her entire body stiffened. She gasped, waiting for the pain, but nothing came. She looked to her left and saw a zombie drop to its knees. Another shot rang out and the front of its face blew off. It thudded face first to the floor beside her.
 

‘Put the sword down.’

‘Not a chance.’

‘We have guns.’

‘Yeah, well, good for you. I’ve got a sword and it’s the only defence I got against the zombies, so screw you and your guns.’

‘I’m going to shoot you.’

‘No, you ain’t. If you were, you’d have done it by now.’

The soldier doing the talking raised his gun and pointed it at her. His hand was in shadow beneath the gun, but she imagined it tightening on the trigger. The shot came again and she threw herself forward. She didn’t know if she’d have made it in time, but the shot wasn’t meant for her.
 

Another zombie collapsed, a few feet to her right. She hadn’t been watching properly and who could blame her. But that meant this guy had just potentially saved her life twice and she hated the thought. She picked herself up from the floor and made a futile attempt to wipe away the dirt stuck to her soaking wet clothes.
 

‘What do you want to talk to me about?’

‘That’s better, but you’ll still need to put the sword away.’

‘Why does it matter? Not like I could do anything before you shot me.’

The soldier seemed to consider this, then lowered his gun and walked closer. ‘We’ve taken over. Etienne and—’

‘Yeah, I saw Etienne. That was classy.’

‘It was necessary. They have magic users. We needed to show the others we were serious or they would have never surrendered.’

‘So you ain’t evil, despite ending the world and torturing your old boss.’

‘We didn’t torture him, we just—’

‘Save it. You tortured the guy, live with it. So you took over, so what?’

‘We want to join forces. We can still follow through on our plan to repopulate the world.’

‘Yeah, except you guys wanna go all Christian and there’s no way the next generation are gonna be a bunch of bible-bashers, especially not after this.’

‘How about we put religion aside for a minute and look at this logically.’

‘Logically? You murdered seven billion people. How do you look at anything logically?’

‘We DIDN’T—’ He cut himself off, taking deep breaths and continuing in a far quieter voice. ‘WE didn’t kill anyone. The masters did and if we’d had any idea what was going to happen, we wouldn’t have taken part in it.’

‘So we’re back to that. ‘I’m ignorant so it’s alright’.’

‘Listen, girl, I don’t know when you decided to be judge and jury, but—’

‘About the same time you decided to kill all the other ones. Any other questions?’

The soldier raised his gun. ‘If you won’t listen, then I haven’t any choice.’

Krystal watched the gun rise, wondering whether she hadn’t pushed it a bit too far. But she hadn’t even been thinking. This guy was a dick, a total dick. He seemed to think he could hang his leader up to be eaten and that somehow made him a nice guy. If she could, she’d run him through and leave him for the zombies.
 

The gun was still rising and she had maybe a second to make a choice. She knelt, grabbed the nearest piece of zombie and threw it at the soldiers. Then she ran. Guns went off almost instantly, the sound making her ear ring. Nothing hit her but she realised she’d run the wrong way. She was heading away from the alleyway across an open space towards a row of shops.
 

Her feet threw up great bursts of water as she hammered across the wet road. She only just spotted the curb in time and flapped her arms wildly as she staggered over it. The guns had stopped and she risked a brief glance over her shoulder.
 

The soldiers were running for her, all four of them converging. Their guns were stowed and they clearly thought they had a good chance of reaching her. She grinned. She was inspired by Bayleigh, but far more importantly, she’d spent the last three years running from people. Not as much as some of those she knew, but enough. This was her town.
 

A set of stairs beckoned her to one side of the row of shops and she hit them hard, two at a time up to the top. She turned and ran along the back of the flats that sat above the shops, searching for where to go next. By the time she reached the end, her chest was heaving.
 

She paused briefly, staring down the fire escape that hung vertically from the end. The soldiers appeared at the far end and started firing. She vaulted straight over the rail and caught the fire escape. She clung on as she slid and scrambled down until her feet splashed into a puddle at the bottom.
 

She was in a car park, badly illuminated by a few down-facing spot lights. She ran straight into the darkness and crouched, making herself as still as possible while she watched the soldiers. They’d given up firing as they raced along behind the flats. Two of them came scrambling down the fire escape while the others leant over the railing with guns and sprayed the car park.
 

She shrunk back against the wall. It was luck now as to whether she got shot. The cars were peppered with gun fire and she covered her ears as bullets struck their roofs and bonnets.
 

The first of the soldiers reached the car park and the gun fire stopped. He strode into the area, gun sweeping from side to side. She stared as he came nearer and nearer her hiding place. Why hadn’t she kept running? Could she actually kill him? She couldn’t, but she didn’t need to. These guys weren’t all that tough. She just had to take his weapon away.
 

Maybe in any other situation he’d have the better of her, but it was dark and pissing with rain and she was fighting for her life. She just had to get the first hit right. She rose silently, her movement hidden by the rain. She raised her sword and took a step, placing her foot slowly into the puddle.
 

She took a deep breath, let it out and took another. The soldier came nearer still, the barrel sweeping straight towards and then past her. Another breath, another step. She would hit his arm and take his hand off. The sword could do that, even with normal humans. It was the only way to be sure.
 

She rose on tip toes, leaning forwards in anticipation of the strike. Then a voice came from the darkness behind her.
 

‘What’s your greatest fear?’

Jackson

He was sick of waking up in empty beds. Where was Harriet? Where was Ella? He had a mental image of them both beating him with their shoes and he stiffened beneath the sheets. He thought for a moment of beating off, before he looked at his hands.
 

The right remained bandaged and numb, but the left… a broad smile split his face as he lifted it before him. The blade thrust out, perfectly in line with his arm and perfectly brutal. He swung it experimentally back and forth, nodding. It felt perfect, like his hand had become the blade. His little games with Harriet would go up a gear with this. She might not be up for that, but he was sure he could convince her.

This was what God needed. God didn’t need another goody-two shoes doing his best by praying and feeling bad about his sins. He needed a soldier. And the harder the times, the harder the soldier. This was what he needed to be, to do the job he had to do.
 

He rested his new hand on the sheets and listened. He was a predator and he needed to think like one. He had to use every tool at his disposal, every sense, to make him better and stronger. The hotel was quiet, possibly too quiet. He wished there was a clock in here. How long had he slept?

He felt better, clearer in his mind, and stronger. When he lifted his legs out of the bed and put them on the floor there was no hesitation in rising to his feet. He tried to move his right hand and got nothing. Either it’d died or someone had pumped him full of something. He hoped it was the latter. Maybe they’d have more of it.
 

He reached the door and stuck his bandaged hand around the handle. It was awkward, but it would do. The corridor was very different to the last time he’d been out. There was a huge red stain from where he’d collapsed, and drips of red all the way down the wall. He set out to follow them and realised how hungry he was.
 

He diverted into the kitchen, hacked a bag of bread open with his new hand and stuffed it into his mouth. Back into the corridor and down to the end, he finally heard something. Someone was crying. It came from the last room before the fire door to the stairs and he pushed the door open with his shoulder.
 

The smell inside made his nose curl. It was rich and carried shit and something else besides. The crying was coming from Ella, sitting between two beds in one of the ludicrously small armchairs you only find in hotels. On both beds lay blood-soaked ladies. Jackson’s eyes opened wide as he saw the injuries.
 

One had a huge chunk taken out of her arm. It looked as though Ella had got halfway through bandaging it before she gave up. The blood still dribbled, but the lady was stiff, eyes rolled up in her head. On the other side, the lady was clearly dead and had been a long while. She was missing part of her face, but what caught his attention was the bread knife buried in her eye.
 

It didn’t take him long to work out who put it there. Ella raised her head and stared at him through eyes that refused to focus. Tears had stained her cheeks and made those eyes red. Jackson thought he should probably say something.
 

‘You want me to finish her?’

He nodded at the newly dead lady on his right and Ella wailed as she nodded. Jackson raised his new hand and Ella stood suddenly, putting her hand out to stop him.
 

‘Hang on, not yet. I made this.’

She turned away and took something from the side of her chair. It looked like a saucepan without a handle, only with a slit cut through the base. She pulled his new hand down and slid the pan over the blade. Then she pushed it down until it sat snug over the remains of his hand. The fit was impressively tight and he nodded in appreciation.
 

‘If you don’t have this the blade will tear straight through your hand the first time you do anything with it.’

She picked up some bandage and wound it carefully around the sleeve and his arm until it was held tightly in place. She repeated the process with gaffer tape until from mid way up his forearm to the blade was covered in black tape. He admired it and grinned at her.
 

‘Nice, very nice.’

‘It’s not nice. It’s the most horrible thing I’ve…’ She stared at the bodies on either side of her and shook her head. ‘It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever seen and I don’t know why you did it. But I think maybe you’re what we need right now.’

She turned away and he turned his attention back to the body. He rested the blade atop the lady’s skull and dragged it back and forth experimentally. It sliced the skin open without any downward pressure at all and, with a little more, he cut straight through to the skull.
 

The next backward slice went through the already decomposing bone and in a few cuts he hit the brain. The body sighed, limbs relaxing and resting. He wiped his new hand on the bed sheet and tapped Ella on the shoulder. ‘Come on.’

They stepped out into the corridor and he was struck again by the silence. ‘Where is everyone?’

She nodded towards reception. ‘They’re hiding. The zombies seem to find us easier if we make noise.’

‘Where are they?’

‘Who?’

‘The zombies?’

‘They came up the fire escape, then some figured out the lift. I don’t know how. They got Kirsty before we even realised what was happening. Then me and some of the others fought back and we killed them but they got Sandra as well.’

‘Anyone else?’

‘Not yet.’

He grunted. Two dead while he slept. He had failed them. He’d failed God as well. Someone would pay for this. Luke’s face flashed through his mind, but it wasn’t him. It was the demon who betrayed him. Az. And that angel, Seph or whatever he was called. They were to blame. And he would make them pay.
 

If that aligned him with Luke and the others, then so be it. He didn’t care who was on whose side. He just cared about making the people or beings or whatever they were who’d caused all this answer for their crimes. And after that, he could get on with rebuilding the world.
 

The shift in focus had come with his new hand and there was no doubt he was thinking right, now. The rebuilding would come and he would be there when it did, but he was a warrior first and foremost. That was what God wanted from him so that was what he would be.
 

He stomped towards reception, making no effort to quieten his footsteps. They could come, every one of them, and he’d be there waiting. His noise had already attracted some of the ladies. Four of them stood in a huddle in reception clutching kitchen knives. He sneered before forcing himself to smile instead. At least these four were out here and willing. He’d start with them.
 

Jackson cleared his throat. ‘I have to go. I have to deal with the demon that attacked us. While he’s alive, there won’t be any peace or any rebuilding. Before I go, I need you to be strong enough to protect yourselves, without getting killed.’

He leant on the last few words and nodded as they squirmed and avoided his gaze. ‘There are two ladies lying dead a few doors down and it’s because you don’t know how to fight. So I’m going to teach you.’