The Zombie Adventures of Sarah Bellum (21 page)

I leap upright,
helplessly spitting out bits of tassel.

"Nobody move!"
I shriek, several octaves higher than normal, due to the nasal
blockage, and the effects of a rotational wedgie in the pyjama-bottom
department. I brandish the golden clockwork hand between my own, as
if it's a genuine
Dirty Harry
.44 Magnum. "Any of you
zombie pigs move, and I will eradicate every tentacle-sucking last
one of you!"

CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
:

DIRTY HARRIDAN

I notice the very
briefest flicker of alarm in the zombie queen's iridescent green
eyes, before she covers it with a sneer.

But I realise the
essential part of a pro-active strike, is to maintain control of the
situation…

"I know what you're
thinking, Pump," I gulp hurriedly, saying anything that comes
into my head. I wave the clockwork bejewelled hand in front of me, in
what I hope is a threatening fashion. "You're thinking, does she
have a trick shot or just a dive? And do you know what? I can't even
remember my name in all this excitement… But considering this
is a clockwork Swiss-movement, the most powerful hand in the world,
and could blow you clean off…"

Ace Bumgang looks
dubious, but I jabber on regardless.

"…You have to
ask your selfish quisling: Do I feel lumpy?"

God, this stupid tassel
wedged up my nose isn't helping my enunciation either. Shreds of silk
drapery and twisted retainer cords from my botched 'surprise
entrance' dangle randomly from the ceiling.

"Well?!" I
demand, rather too loudly. Hoping to attract the others, if they're
within earshot. "Do you? Pump?"

"Sarah, I was just
going to dose her with Rohypnol, but you carry on if you think it's
helping," Ace remarks, his eyebrows slightly quizzical.

"Perhaps you would
like to join us in the tub, Miss Bellum?" Lady Glandula says,
slyly. The weird zombie tentacle appendage curls possessively around
Ace's neck once more, and tightens perceptibly. "No need to be
shy…"

"Let him go," I
order, nervously.

Ace doesn't look too
bothered yet, fishing in his overall pockets for something.

"…When I know
you'd rather be in here, with him?" The zombie queen gives a
knowing smile, resting her elbows on the edge of the marble bath-tub.
"Why not just indulge your final fantasy – instead of
trying to save the world, Sarah?"

I knew it –
I
knew she
'
d give something
away, without realising
…

I act as if taking aim.

"I am a virgin, and
I am not afraid to use this!" I shout.

"Really?" Ace
warns, still rummaging in his pockets. "You don't know where
it's been."

"And it's
clockwork." A familiar voice joins us, attached to the familiar
body, stepping through the drapes on the far side. "You'll have
to keep stopping to wind it up. But I kind of want to see you do that
with it anyway."

I've never been so glad
to see Carvery Slaughter. Well – edit that. I've NEVER been
glad to see Carvery Slaughter. But right at this minute I'm so
relieved, I could pee through a dozen mattresses.

"Be a whole lot
better than reading your diary, for a start," he continues. He
points to me with the butt of the shotgun, and scratches the side of
his nose. "Er – you got a little something right here…"

"Fuck it," I
say, bravely, and spit out a bit of tassel trying to stick in the
corner of my mouth. "You like diaries so much, grab that one
belonging to Mr. Dry Senior over there."

"Weirdo,"
Carvery mutters, but goes ahead and takes it from the other immobile
zombie guard.

I don't understand why
the guards are not resisting.

Ace finds what he's
looking for, and grabs the two drinks off the tray, from the edge of
the tub. Something drops from his hand into one of them, and he
swirls it quickly.

"Where were we?"
he says, nudging the Lady Glandula de Bartholine. "Bottoms up."

"I like my men
keen," she purrs, and accepts the crystal chalice.

It's then that the four
zombie guards seem to wake up, and become noticeably more menacing.
They close in on the sunken bath.

And I realise.

They're here to protect
HER – not her property…

"Ace, get out of the
tub," Carvery says quietly, reaching into his own pocket.

"In good time,
buddy." Ace slowly unwinds the tentacle from around his own
neck, as she takes a first sip of her drink, now completely
distracted.

The zombies step closer,
into the puddles overflowing the sides of the tub, and I look down at
the rivulets of rose-petal-peppered water approaching my own feet.

"Back up, Sarah,"
Carvery warns me.

I see his hand emerging
from his pocket – holding the Taser.

Oh, shit…

And then, right in front
of me – the gemstones in the clockwork hand start to glow.

"Ace!" I squeak
in fright.

"What, you think
Carver's never zapped me before?" Ace grumbles, tying a knot in
the tentacle, which seems to divert Lady Glandula further in a
playful way, for a moment. "It's not only
your
diary he
likes to read in his spare time, you know."

"That's not what I'm
afraid of right now!" I hiss.

The clockwork hand is
acting as if it has a mind of its own. The two middle fingers curl in
towards the palm, and the index and pinky extend out straight. The
smallest stones along the knuckle joints of the two extended fingers
ignite in series, like little blue runway lights.

"Any time you're
ready, Ace," Carvery prompts.

"Just getting
comfortable, dude."

Ace leans back
nonchalantly – and then grabs hold of one of the trailing
curtain-cords from the ceiling. Like a gymnast, he hauls himself up
out of the water, flipping upside-down, as he swings out of the tub.

Carvery fires the Taser –
dead square into the zombie queen's back.

Before she even screams,
the clockwork hand has mimicked the Taser current, sending a blue
lightning bolt into the same target. But it's doing something strange
– the current seems to be moving in reverse, as if the
clockwork hand is absorbing power from her – not discharging
it…

The Lady Glandula's skin
darkens, the tentacle retracts, and that oil-slick on tarmac
appearance emerges again. The zombie guards, in contact with the
bathwater, do a grotesque double-speed
Thriller
dance, as the
electricity courses through them, sending every undead muscle into
spasm.

But it doesn't turn them
also back into that onyx stone, unlike the queen herself. Once she is
cold, dark and solid again, the gemstones dim, and the strange influx
of power surging towards me fades, and ceases.

It must be the clockwork
hand, I wonder.
Can it give her life, but also reverse it?

Ace somersaults over the
edge of the tub, as Carvery disconnects his own current. The zombie
guards look momentarily disoriented.

"Let's bust a move,"
Ace announces. "Before these guys want to play."

"Come on, Sarah,"
Carvery nods. "Chop-chop."

Not the best words to
hear, coming from him – but I pull myself together, and make to
follow.

Before I've gone more
than a few steps, Ace Bumgang stops me. He reaches out towards my
face – and tugs the tassel abruptly out of my right nostril.

"Ow," I react,
as he tosses it over his shoulder into the tub.

"You're welcome,"
he says, and heads off after Carvery. "Don't dither, Sarah."

I look longingly back at
the tassel floating in the tub, with the frozen black onyx zombie
queen. But the zombie attendants are starting to recover, and I
daren't risk hanging around.

Damn – the one time
Ace touches something that was at least temporarily in contact with
my own body… and I don't get to keep it for my Ace Bumgang
souvenir box!

At least I have the
magical clockwork hand… as I hurry after the other two, I
start to wonder about these other powers it has, that are so
important…

CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
:

PYGANGLION

"
W
here
are the others?" Ace asks, as we reach the bottom of the steps,
heading back up into the giant pyramid shrine aboard the barge.

Carvery shrugs.

"Never touched 'em,"
he grins.

Uh-oh
.
I wonder if that means the crocodiles have had an early breakfast…

A figure appears at the
top of the stairs, silhouetted against the flickering torchlight. The
outline of a regal headdress stops my heart dead in its tracks. My
kneecaps file against my body for divorce.

"How the Hell did
she do that?" Ace gulps. "Next time, I'm bringing ketamine
as well…"

The figure takes two
paces towards us, and raises an arm imperiously, to point in our
direction. I clutch the mechanical clockwork hand to my chest –
but it is dormant, no sign of helpful magical activity coming to our
rescue from within it at all…

"
Gooood
,"
the distant shape groans.

Then trips over its
skirts, and falls flat on its face. A very impressive stair-tumble
follows, shedding bangles, headdress, pendants, and unravelled silk.

"Homer!" we all
shout, as the now semi-naked gray zombie arrives at our feet.

"Ouuuuuch…"

"Well, we know what
he's been up to," Carvery remarks, as we help the bedraggled,
undead transvestite Dry brother to his feet. "Found his mother's
closet again, by the look of it."

"Do you think we
could use this?" Ace suggests, picking up a tail-end of
embellished white sari, or toga, or whatever it is. "Seeing as
Homer likes to dress up as his mother already. Could be our ticket
out of here."

"
Home!
"
cries Homer, and we have to stop him, as he spots the distant
bath-tub.

"Risky,"
Carvery replies, shaking his head. "The guy can't stay upright
and facing in one direction all at the same time. But I reckon Sarah
could do it."

If my mouth could drop
open any further, I'd be obliged to fit it with a manhole cover.

"Cool." Ace
holds out the toga and headdress, towards me. "Get your pyjamas
off."

Again –
not
the way this fantasy about Ace Bumgang was meant to happen!

"No!" I cry,
more in frustration with the way my imaginary love-life seems to be
getting bulldozed at the moment, than in response to the request.

Which, under other
circumstances, I'd have no problem with at all…

"Come on, Sarah."
Carvery waves the shotgun in my general direction, gesturing up and
down. "It's not like we haven't seen it all before. Like, when
you're asleep. Or sending Ace pictures of it, playing
Draw My
Thing
online."

Does this guy stop at
nothing??!

"They were good
drawings," Ace nods in agreement. "All I had to do was
colour them in."

"For the last time,
it was a picture of a taco!" I nearly scream at him. "Didn't
the clue
'you eat this'
give you any ideas?"

"Yeah," he
says. "But not food-related ones. And I guessed the letters C
and T, remember?"

"Wasting time,
Sarah," Carvery reminds me. "Time in which we might all get
eaten, by zombies and crocodiles and stuff."

He's right. The zombies
at the far end of the great hall by the marble bath-tub are trying to
organise themselves, bumping into one another and attempting to haul
the black onyx body of their zombie queen, Lady Glandula, out of the
water. They're like honey-bees, prioritising their queen first –
luckily for us…