Thirteen Roses Book Two: After: A Paranormal Zombie Saga (21 page)

Luke made the slightest of shrugs. 'They're seeing their worst fears.'

The crazy man cackled and nodded. 'Oh yes they are. They need God, you know, he'd save them.'

'Shut up. Krystal, this is David. He'll get better.'

She nodded, staring wide-eyed at the crazy man. He was one of them. She tried to smile but the look he returned made her blood run cold so she fixed her eyes on Luke.

'We need to get back to the tunnel. But we need to get the others first. We run from here back to the Lady Chapel. You hide in there until I find the others. Understand?'

They all nodded, Krystal too thrown by the entire thing to argue. He was in charge. She wasn't sure why, although after the weird thing he'd done with the soldiers, she wasn't going to argue. Without another word, Luke set off across the cathedral, dashing from column to column.
 

Now and then he'd stop them with a raised hand and stare towards the far end. It didn't make sense that more soldiers hadn't come to stop them. The four they'd left behind were still lost in their own little nightmares, but surely someone else had become suspicious?
 

She put on a burst of speed and caught up with Luke. 'Why aren't more of them trying to stop us?'

'Good question. I was wondering that myself. We might be having a little help from the Father, though that may be wishful thinking.'

'Who's the Father?'

'Theoretically, he's the guy that runs this place. In reality, he's a lazy, sadistic bastard to whom I am only very reluctantly related.'

'Runs this place? What, like the caretaker or something?'

Luke chuckled and shook his head. 'I'm afraid not. The caretaker would be doing considerably more work. The Father's at the other end of the scale.'

He pulled her behind another column and held her there, peering around it. They were running beside the tent and she took a moment to look at it closely. It was made of shiny material, which was what she'd seen reflecting on her way in here. It was enormous and really creepy. White tents looked wrong, like something out of a war.

'What's in the tent?'

'The others of our number should be finding that out right now. Hopefully, they already have and will be meeting us back in the Lady Chapel.
 

'What's a lady chapel? Sounds kind of rude.'

'It's the place in the church reserved for the Mother of Christ.'

'Makes sense. Let me guess, in a place this big, it's pretty bloody small, right?'

Luke looked at her a little longer this time, a smile turning his mouth up at the corners. 'How old are you, Krystal?'

'Sixteen. I think. Might have lost count.'

'Hmm. You've been on the streets three years, right?'

She nodded. He took her arm and led her back out into the open. They crossed the empty space to the wall and scampered along it. She could hear Ed, David and Bayleigh right behind, panting and gasping just as she was doing. They reached a point where the wall gave way to iron railings and Luke shoved her in through the gate.
 

A statue of a woman stood at the far end. The Lady Chapel. Tiny. She hissed quietly and joined the others crouching behind the pews.
 

'We'll wait a few more minutes for them to return then I'll go and get them.'

He turned away from her to the other three. 'Can any of you remember where the door in the wall is?'

They looked sheepish and shook their heads.
 

'Excellent.' He was so dry she couldn't decide whether he was being sarcastic or not.
 

They crouched in silence. She became acutely aware of the little things. The blood still pounded in her head and the place where they'd stuck the needle in her stung. A little trail of fresh blood wound down her arm, coaxed out by all the running. She could hear Bayleigh and David rasping away and Ed's softer breathing. Luke made barely a sound, though she could see him breathing in the slight rise and fall of his chest.
 

He was good-looking, in a scary way. Not good-looking enough to be nervous around, but nice to look at. David she couldn't look at at all. His eyes were wild, roving and never settling, and his hands moved with them, shaking and twitching. She looked back out into the cathedral. It was so quiet and peaceful.
 

A shout came from somewhere in the tent and Luke groaned, rubbing his temples.
 

'What is it?'

'It's Jackson. Whatever he found in the tent, he didn't like. Dammit.'

He turned to Bayleigh. 'Can you look after them until I get back?'

She nodded, eyes wide. Then he was up and running, back out the chapel and across to the tent.
   

Alex

It was as predictable as rain in winter, but he still wasn't quick enough. By the time he reacted, Jackson was three cubicles over, mauling his way through the hanging sheets. He was yanking them from the lines so Alex struggled after him through an obstacle course of beds and rumpled sheets.
 

Jackson was mumbling, ranting about God's will and the face of evil. Alex stifled the urge to swear loudly as he shoved his way through. This should have been so easy. They found the beds and the women, they knew what was going on in here, but they couldn't do anything about it, not with two of them and however many soldiers. So they should have just sneaked away and returned at another time, with a plan. Assuming they came back at all.
 

He looked down at the woman he was struggling past. He wasn't sure woman was the right word. She looked so young, though not that much younger than Lisa. And Lisa had been pregnant. He stopped, gripping the rail that ran down the side of the bed. It shook as the muscles in his arm tensed. She'd been carrying his son.
 

What happened in the womb when the disease struck? Was his baby killed straight out, or was there some sort of zombified baby still inside her? Maybe it had tried to eat its way out. His knees wobbled and only the bed kept him standing. He was half-tempted to rip the gas mask off her. It made things much simpler. Whatever these people were going to do, and he had a pretty good idea about that, it wouldn't be pleasant.
 

Jackson was nearly out of sight. Alex blinked, kicking himself, and set off in pursuit. Jackson's voice grew louder and he could hear him twenty feet away. He broke into a run, weaving between the beds. He made good ground until his foot caught on a sheet and slipped, and he flew forwards. His face caught the edge of one of the beds as he crashed down and, though his hands stopped his fall, his head was already spinning.
 

He thumped to the floor and lay still, blinking as the lights dimmed. He was going to be sick. He swallowed a couple of times and pushed himself to his knees. He had to get up and keep going. If Jackson got to the entrance and attacked those men there'd be hundreds of soldiers in here and that would be that.

He pulled himself up the bed and set off, limping as his leg registered the massive great bruise already forming on it. Jackson was even further ahead now, but he didn't dare go fast for fear of repeating his fall. The huge man was causing mayhem as he plunged through. One of the sheet wires snapped and sounded like the rigging of a ship slapping against the wooden mast.
 

Alex ducked, waiting for it to take his face off. Luckily, it flicked up into the air, like a striking snake, before tumbling down among the beds. He staggered, dizzy again. When he looked up he saw the roof of the tent and everything came into focus. But when he looked at Jackson, he saw hundreds of flapping sheets. His perspective was all screwed up, and ones he thought were distant grabbed his arms and tried to tangle him. Then he reached out to push one aside and it was still far away.
 

He waded on, shoving and pushing, and every moment saw a new face, smooth-skinned and blonde-haired and smothered in a gas mask. He pushed aside a sheet and screamed. She stood right before him, blonde hair already greying, and smooth skin pale and cracking. Her eyes were sunken into her young face and her beauty had been consumed by the virus he had made.
 

She reached for him and for the briefest moment, he thought of letting her. It would be fitting. Then he grabbed her outstretched hands and shoved her to one side. She stumbled and fell onto the bed, back bending as she landed. He grabbed her legs and hoisted her all the way so she disappeared over the far side of the bed.
 

Her gas mask lay on the floor. Had Jackson caught it accidentally or had he torn it off as he passed? It wasn't a question he wanted to ask. It wasn't a question he wanted an answer to. His hands were shaking and sweaty. He just had to catch Jackson.

Then the woman surged around the end of the bed on her hands and knees, with her lips pulled back from her yellowing teeth. He groaned and squeezed his eyes half closed as he kicked her in the head. She growled and dropped to her face. He gritted his teeth as he stamped straight down onto the back of her skull. Its skull. He had to think of it as an it, because that's what it was.
 

Something cracked beneath his heel and he stepped back, bile rising in his throat. She lifted her head, showing him her shattered nose streaming blood. But she still reached for him so he kicked again, knocking her down. Then he stamped and stamped until the cracking sound became soft. He stopped abruptly and vomited beside the body. Bile streamed from his lips when he heard the shout that could only be Jackson.
 

'This isn't God's will.'

He boomed it out, sounding like a crazed vicar, preaching to an unconscious congregation. Alex put his hands on the floor to push himself up. His stomach heaved again as his fingers slipped in the warm blood, but he clambered to his feet and set off. His hands left red stains on the sheets as he pushed his way through them.
 

'You aren't the soldiers of god. You're nothing but liars and evil men.'

He sounded like a lunatic. Perhaps he was. He definitely wasn't all there. Alex hesitated, catching sight of Jackson between the sheets. His hands were raised above his head and he looked like a figure from the Old Testament, raining his anger down upon the nonbelievers. He was huge. Alex looked at his blood-stained hands and wondered what he was going to do when he got there.
 

Another voice joined the fray.
 

'We are the rulers of the new world, little man. Your kind are extinct. You believe in something that no longer exists.'

Alex groaned. Bloody religion. That's what it always came down to. But he could no longer deny its existence, which put him in a very confused place. Not that it made any difference if they got killed. Being murdered in St Paul's would be an entirely unique way to go.
 

He traipsed closer and hesitated, grabbing hold of the nearest bed. He'd just stamped a zombie to death. His gut lurched and he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the real world to click back into focus. It didn't, so he kept walking.

He got close enough to smell the sweat coming off Jackson and thumped him on the shoulder. Jackson spun, eyes flashing and furious. Alex backed off a step and thrust his chest out, trying to make himself feel and look bigger. It was pointless. He was still enormous.
 

'We need to get out of here, what are you doing?'

'How can we leave when it's like this?'

The big man swept his hands wide. Alex looked back at the white sheets and the beds. 'I know, I get it, but if we stay, a bunch of soldiers are going to come in and shoot us and we'll have achieved nothing.'

Jackson pulled his gun down from his shoulder and brandished it. 'Not if I shoot them first.'

'Don't be stupid. There are too many of them. It doesn't matter how many you shoot, they'll still kill you.'

'Actually, we won't.'

Alex looked past Jackson, seeing the man who had spoken. His robes were a pale grey colour, so he wasn't one of the bigwigs, but he wasn't sure it made much difference.
 

'You are far too interesting to kill. You survived the plague, despite overwhelming scientific evidence to suggest that no one should. You need to be studied and analysed.'

Alex chuckled. The guy sounded like him. Only they'd find nothing, because the person they used as an excuse for what they'd done had made them survive. He didn't know how and the word magic felt wrong. But he'd changed them somehow and not through any scientific means. Alex wasn't about to tell him that, though. Anything that kept them alive for longer had to be a good thing.
 

At that moment, a hand appeared around the robed man's throat and yanked him off his feet. Alex dashed forwards, seeing Luke's face turning red as he applied the pressure. The robed man flapped his arms about and struggled furiously, but it didn't last. His struggles slowed and his eyes rolled up in his head then closed.
 

Luke dropped the body to the ground and Alex stared at it. 'Did you kill him?'

'The soldiers I have some sympathy for. This guy, not a bit. He wasn't ever going to change.'

He nudged the body with his foot and turned to look at the door of the cathedral. On cue, another robed man appeared and with him came soldiers. Alex waited for Luke to work his mojo but as more of them poured in, the angel shook his head.
 

'There's too many. Run.'

He set off for the far wall, where they'd first come in and Alex charged after him. Gunshots rang out and something struck the stone just before him. He yelped and stopped dead, watching Luke as he zoomed away. Then something hit Luke in the arm and a spray of blood flicked across the stone as he fell.
 

Alex's mouth fell open as Luke hit the floor. Then he jumped, grabbing Luke beneath the shoulders and hefting him to his feet.
 

'I'm alright, it's fine, just a shock. Oh, bloody hell, I'm bleeding.'

'Yeah, that happens when you get shot. Come on.'