Devouring The Dead (Book 1) (10 page)

“What’s wrong with you?” he said. She had cross
ed her arms in front of her and was facing away from him. She wanted to get dressed, but was worried what he might do if she tried to leave.

“Brad
, I told you to stop and...”

“And what?
You wanted me to fuck you. Someone’s got to teach you the ways of the world, girlie. Stay there, I’m not done with you yet.” Brad laughed and got off the sofa picking his clothes up.

“Whatever. I’m going to see Jill.” Chloe bent down to pick her clothes up and felt Brad’s hands on her neck.

“Ow, stop it. That hurts.”

“Fucking hell, you whores are all the same. Get up.” Brad forced Chloe up and grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her back. He marched her over to a wall.

“You sure you don’t want me to fuck you again? Are you absolutely, positively sure?” Brad stared into her eyes. Suddenly, his blue eyes didn’t seem so charming. His face was set like stone and Chloe was anxious to leave.

“Yes. Please
, Brad, let me go, you’re hurting me.” Chloe was now more scared of what was happening inside the building than outside.

“Well that’s a shame
, Chloe. I know I’m a good fuck and you weren’t so bad. That’s a real shame. You know what happened to the last cunt who fucked me, then tried to fuck me over?”

Brad pulled a handle on the wall
behind Chloe and a door flung open. Nestled between a row of hanging coats was Amber. She had been propped up against the back wall and her bulging dead eyes stared back at Chloe. She was naked and covered in cuts and bruises. Her twisted legs had turned a horrible shade of purple and her face was locked in an expression of shock. Brad let go of Chloe’s arm and she spun around. Brad looked at Chloe’s face, so young and full of fear.

“
What did you...?” Brad grabbed Chloe’s throat with both hands and squeezed. Her weak arms were no match for his and she clung to his forearms until the end. It only took about thirty seconds before her body went limp. He kept squeezing, to make sure. When she could no longer support her own body weight, he took her dead body and dragged it back to the sofa.

“I told you I wasn’t done with you yet, bitch.” He threw Chloe back over the sofa, putting a pillow under her stomach, raising her backside into the air.
He aroused himself, ready to fuck her again. Unlike Amber, she was still warm to the touch.

  
“Enjoy the show, babe,” he said to Amber. Her limp face did not answer and her dead eyes were incapable of witnessing the violent abuse that Brad inflicted on Chloe’s dead body. Her fingers did twitch though as the infection began to trickle through her lifeless body, the infected rat that had bitten her long since gone to find another source of food.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Philip, come on, we can’t.”

P
hilip looked at his wife with mock disdain. “I think we can and we shall and we will.” He poured the red wine into the wine glasses that were still dirty from the night before, picked them up, and walked back around to the plump leather chairs where they were sat. He handed his wife a glass.

“So what shall we do today, Kate?” He raised his glass to toast her and his face fell when she refused to raise hers.

“I’m serious, Philip, we can’t muck around forever.” Kate put her wine down on the glass table and put one hand to her temple. “Besides, I’ve got a headache.”

“Ah-ha, I knew it! You’re just a lightweight.” Philip took a sip of wine and embraced the burn. They had spent all last night drinking, before succumbing to sleep on the very same chairs where they were now. They wore the same clothes as
yesterday, the same clothes they had slept in. What choice did they have?

“Darling, I’m just going to remind you of one thing,” said Philip.

“What’s that?” said Kate. She curled up into the black leather and willed her headache to go away.

“You’re right, we can’t muck around forever. We also can’t fuck around forever. In fact, I would say we can’t do a lot of anything forever.”
Philip laughed at his own joke.

Kate looked at her husband, unsure if he was actually trying to prove a point
, or if he was just drunk. She reached for the wine and took a sip.

“Do you remember what we did yesterday? After everyone ran? We came here, to the bar. It was your idea. I distinctly remember you saying, ‘Screw them all, let’s go to the bar and get
shit-faced.’ Yay or nay?” Philip felt the flush of red wine in his throat and suppressed a burp.

“Something
like that,” Kate said. She had said it impulsively and regretted it now. She had never had as much stamina as her husband for drink. They had met in a wine bar twelve months ago, been married six months ago, and drunk through pretty much the whole thing since. Any thoughts of having children she had given up on a long time ago. Even if they’d decided to have kids, Philip spent so much time drinking that they rarely made love anymore, so it would be a long time coming.

“Well
, I thought it was a good idea.” Philip got up and walked over to the window. Ten floors below him was the plaza.

“They’re still there
, those things. Those bloody infected
things
. Christ, what a disgrace. I tell you, Kate, coming here was the best bloody idea you’ve ever had. Apart from marrying me, of course.” He continued staring at the streets below.

“Philip, don’t you think we should try to do something today?”

“Like what? Fight back like the army did? You saw how that turned out yesterday.” Philip turned around and looked around the bar. It had been set up as a place to wine and dine clients. The office on the other side of the floor was completely separate from this area. If you didn’t know better, you would think you were in a fine dining restaurant in the city.

“Look at this place
, Kate. It’s perfect. We’ve got enough food and booze to last us ages. I’m not going to try and fight off a thousand of those bloody...chavs downstairs, when I can wait up here for someone else to sort the damn mess out. This is Armani you know,” he said pointing at the suit he wore.

“Like who, Philip? Who is going to sort this? You just said so yourself, the army crashed and burned, much like the
Akuma Insurance people.” Kate looked wistfully out at the burning building opposite. It was starting to burn itself out. The flames were subsiding although the black plumes of smoke still ascended from the building’s orifices.

“Look
, I don’t know, the government will sort something out.

Th
e Tories can’t fuck this one up. If they lose the city, its game over. No, they’ll do something. I’m not pussying out like the chasers over at Akuma.”

Kate physically cringed
. She hated it when Philip referred to them as chasers. Anyone who worked in the Insurance building was one, he said, just another grease-ball climbing the slippery pole, chasing the money. Anyone like that ended up working in the Akuma building. He seemed to think that what he did was somehow superior to them, as if he wasn’t chasing after money day and night himself.

“Have some respect
, Philip. You think they would’ve jumped if there was any other way out?”

He s
hrugged his shoulders. “So what then? You can take the fire escape if you like, but I don’t think you’ll get far. No, you’re better off waiting it out up here with me.” Philip walked back around the bar and found a packet of peanuts. He threw one over to Kate. “Breakfast?”

“Shush
, hang on, I hear something,” she said tossing the peanuts away.

“Oh come on
, darling, I...”

“Shush!” Kate stood up and glared at him. It was not a face he was used to and he shut up. Maybe she had heard something; they listened and then he heard it too: footsteps.

Philip picked up an empty wine bottle and held it by the neck over his shoulder, ready to strike.

“It’s coming from the stairwell. Maybe
it’s help?” said Kate, cheering up as she walked over to the door.

“Maybe,
” said Philip warily. Kate pushed open the door and disappeared. Philip heard talking and waited. His wife did not come back and he counted the seconds.

“Kate?” He went over to the door and raised the wine bottle higher. The door abruptly opened and Kate came through followed by two
figures.

“Philip, we’re not
as alone as we thought. This is Benzo and Michelle. They’re from floor sixteen.”

Philip dropped the bottle to the floor
, embarrassed, and shook their hands.

* * * *

Jenny had managed to swap with Benzo, grateful that she wouldn’t have to go far. He had agreed to swap with her and now she only had to do floors thirteen to fifteen with Dina. Both were larger ladies and stairs were alien to them. It had taken them an hour to go through floors fifteen and fourteen, coming up with surprisingly little. There were fridges on both, and they’d grabbed a loaf of bread and a tub of butter encrusted with sticky jam residue. Other than that, they had turned up nothing of value. They were just carbon copy floors of their own: endless rows of computers and telephones, square desks and shiny screens.

“I’m worried about Amber,” said Jenny to Dina as they approached the thirteenth floor.

“Who’s that?” said Dina.

“Blonde girl, really pretty.
Sits next to Brad?”

“Oh
, yeah.” Dina was not much of a conversationalist - which was not ideal, considering she worked in a call centre. Jenny didn’t care much for her to be honest; she was a cat person and Dina was a dog person. There was never going to be any love lost between them. Dina was an institution at Fiscal. She had worked there almost thirty years, starting a year after Jackson, and her bob of white hair was as familiar as anything in the office. She had seen many blonde bimbos come and go over the years.

“I haven’t seen her today, have you? I hope she’s al
l right.” Jenny coughed and pushed open the door to floor thirteen, leaving the cold stairwell behind.

“She’ll be fine,” said Dina. “I’m more worried about what’s in here.
It’s a bit spooky.”

Jenny looked at her frowning. “Why?”

“Floor thirteen isn’t it. It’s unnatural.” Jenny wasn’t the only one who found Dina odd. Apart from an overzealous passion for dogs, her other passion was God. Jenny knew she went to church religiously, never missing a service. Her husband had died many years ago and since then, there had been only one other man in her life: Jesus.

On
the desks at work, Jill allowed them one photo. Jenny had a picture of her cats. Rob had a picture of David Beckham. Parker had a picture of Victoria Beckham, and Amber a picture of her parents. Dina had a picture of Jesus on the cross: now that was just weird.

“Let’s just find the kitchen and get out of here. This is the last one and then we can get back upstairs,” said Jenny
, not wanting to draw her colleague any further on why floor thirteen should be unnatural. She knew it was likely to lead to a cross-examination of Jenny’s moral and religious beliefs and she really couldn’t be bothered with it all right now.

T
hey found the kitchen and began examining the draws and cupboards. Jenny found a packet of mint chocolate biscuits and popped one in her mouth. It was only fair: she’d been up and down those stairs for the last hour.

Dina found a bag of salad in the fridge that had turned soggy. Jenny found a packet of cheap Japanese noodles and decided to take them
back with her upstairs. Dina found some crisp light wafers and put them back. You can’t eat cardboard, she muttered to herself.

“What are you doing?”  A man appeared in the kitchen doorway, his booming voice startling the two women. Jenny shrieked and dropped the biscuits on the floor
, whilst Dina grabbed a fork, the nearest thing to hand, and brandished it in front of her.

“Who are you people?” the man demanded again. Jenny looked him up and down
. The man held a long mop above his head. He was dark and swarthy, but he wasn’t dressed like the others. His clothes were dirty and he seemed to be wearing an overall of some sort. With her pounding heart slowly calming down, she managed to speak.

“We’re from floor sixteen. We were just looking for some food. I’m Jenny and this is Dina.”

Nobody moved and three sets of eyes glanced around from one to the other until the man laughed.

“Sorry, you can put the fork down
, darling, you just spooked me,” he said. The man took a step into the kitchen and the women relaxed. He put the mop down, leaning it against the kitchen counter.

“I’m Reggie. So you’re from sixteen
, eh? Are there many people left there?”

“Yes, well
, no. There’s a few of us,” said Jenny as Dina put the fork back on the counter. She just smiled at Reggie. In her world, she didn’t mix with such people. Nobody like this man attended her church group and she was quite happy about that.

“Well
, I’m pleased to hear I’m not the last man on the planet,” Reggie said laughing. “Look, I’m sorry for jumping out at you, but I thought I was alone and I think you made me jump as much as I did you. Um, there’s not much food here I’m afraid. I was going to go downstairs to the café to see if I could find something actually. Do you want to come with me?”

“Thanks
, but actually we’ve already sent someone down there,” said Jenny. Despite her initial shock, Reggie seemed a nice man. “So who are you exactly? I mean, no offence, but you don’t really look like you work here.”

“Coz I’m black?” h
e said. Reggie crossed his arms and frowned at her.

“Oh
, no, oh goodness now, I mean, sorry, no not that...” stuttered Jenny. Dina looked down at her feet.

“Ha
ha, I’m just messing with you! Ha!” Reggie’s laugh bellowed out and Jenny began to laugh too, relieved.

“I know
, it’s my overall. I’m the janitor. I fix the lights, the wiring, just bits and bobs, you know.”

“Well, Reggie, if you want to come back up to sixteen with us, we’re gathering there and hopefully the others have had a bit more luck like finding some food.” Jenny held up a wilting, squashed loaf of bread.

“Thanks, don’t mind if I do. Been awful lonely here this last day.” He looked sad and Jenny touched his arm as she passed him by. Reggie plodded after Jenny to the stairwell and Dina picked up the fork before following: just in case, she thought.

* * * *

Brad stuffed Chloe into the closet next to Amber, promising himself that he would get rid of them soon. He knew it was risky leaving them around, but really, who was going to come snooping through broom cupboards and coat cupboards now? Tonight, he thought. Tonight he would sneak back up here, jimmy open a window, and dump them. Okay, he might have a little fun first, and then dump them. Who knew how long it would be before he got another chance. They could be stuck here for a long time.

He closed the door and the sunlight disappeared f
rom Chloe’s and Amber’s faces. He rustled briefly through the kitchen and found some yoghurt. That’ll do, he thought, and slung the six-pack into the plastic bag with the biscuits he’d found earlier.

Before he left
, he checked around one more time. He had scooped up Chloe’s clothes and buried them in a desk drawer. There was no evidence of a struggle and no sign that anyone had even been here. He hadn’t gotten this far by being messy. Brad re-entered the stairwell and heard the faint clip-clopping footsteps of his colleagues, searching up and down for food and water: idiots. He knew they wouldn’t find much. His suggestion of searching the building had just been a ruse to get some alone time. They’d get all the food they needed from the café.

Brad turned up the stairs and came face to face with Parker.