Thirteen Roses Book Five: Home: A Paranormal Zombie Saga (10 page)

Luke lost the smile. He wasn’t an angel, not anymore. And even if he got back to the Flights, he still wasn’t sure he wanted that role back. Seph had made a mockery of something he himself had challenged. But he’d done it openly. He’d made no bones about his dispute with the Father. Seph had betrayed everything he was supposed to stand for, for three hundred years.
 

He was pissed about that, but it wasn’t the real reason.
 

He’d watched Sophie die and done nothing about it.
 

He screwed up his face and repeated the mantra that had been running through his head for the last couple of hours. He
couldn’t
have done anything about it.
 

Except he could. He could have been more aware of the devices and got them charged. He could have got them out of the city quicker instead of giving them a few days to recover. If they’d left the city straight away, Dave would still be with them as well, and no one would have been hurt.
 

He bit his tongue and turned to Alex. ‘I think I might take this. If we come up against any more roadblocks I can clear them out the way.’

Alex nodded and cracked open the door. ‘Let me go tell Bayleigh and…’ He frowned and looked around the back of the cab. When he reappeared, his face was white beneath the street lights.
 

‘What is it?’ Luke asked.

‘Where’s Krystal?’

The mantra spun off its wheels and went hurtling away.
 

Dave

Dave froze. Then the big man swayed and his eyes wandered. He set to hustling the ladies towards the lift, keeping his eyes on Jackson the entire time. Jackson raised his hand and muttered something incomprehensible. Was he drunk? His words slurred, he stumbled, and his hand struck the wall.
 

His face screwed up and Dave thought he was going to cry, but he doubled over, white-bandaged hands sticking out to either side.
 

They reached the doors and Dave held them open while the two ladies waddled through with the aid of the third. Finally he took his eyes off Jackson and let the door swing closed. One of the lifts was waiting and he led them in, heart punching the inside of his chest. They were nearly safe, nearly away from Jackson. He took a short breath followed by another, and the doors slid shut.
 

He slumped against the wall as the lift descended. He’d done it. Somehow, he’d done it. He’d done it with charm and class, but that was because it wasn’t really him doing it. He felt horrible, raped and abused, but he couldn’t deny what had happened. Az had worked through him, the puppet master taking whatever he wanted.

The trouble was, Dave had loved it. He could still feel the smile on his face and how the ladies had responded. He remembered how amazing it made him feel. He thought that maybe, some time long ago, in another life, he’d been good with women. Not any more. But he liked the newly-made memory. Az could take control of him whenever he wanted.
 

The lift doors slid open and the reception area lay before them. The rain battered the glass doors and ran in rivers down the windows. The ladies hesitated, disturbed, perhaps, by the pile of bodies by the front door.
 

Some zombies still hovered around the corpses, shoving what meat they could find into their mouths. As they drew nearer the doors, one raised its head and stared straight at them. Blood ran from its jaw and mingled with the water, running in a red waterfall off its chin. The ladies gasped and backed away.
 

‘It’s okay, don’t worry. I’ll deal with them. Wait here.’

He stepped away, chest thrusting out. They were watching him and this was a good chance to ensure their trust. One of the ladies groaned and he spun back around. Her hands gripped her distended belly and she bent over. The others gathered around and Dave turned away. That was something he couldn’t help with.
 

He pushed open the door and the storm hit him in the face like a fist, stealing the breath from his lungs. The rain was cold and drove into his eyes. The zombies rose from their meagre meals as he appeared and he waited for the mist. It came rushing like the storm as he stepped from the building.
 

There were three of them, all rising with the same murderous intent. Dave stepped to the nearest, brushed aside the clinging claws and grabbed the top of its head. With a roar he wrenched the head from side to side. He heard a crunch almost immediately and kept twisting and yanking. With a sound like tearing cloth, the head ripped free and the body dropped to the ground.
 

He watched himself again, from a short distance above his head, and observed with next to no emotion. He wondered what he’d feel if one of the zombies killed him. Would there be any regret or sadness before he faded away? It didn’t feel at that moment like there would.
 

He winced as his body, driven by Az, shoved a hand deep into the skull. He yanked out the mash of brains and veins and blood, and stuck his hand back in. He went for the next zombie, brandishing the skull like a gauntlet. He punched the zombie in the face and heard the crack.
 

He brought his arm back and swung it around in a wide circle, smashing the hard part at the back of the skull into the side of the creature’s face. It crumpled, fragments of skin and bone cracking away and hitting the floor. The brain beneath, he tore out with his left hand, and stepped over the corpse before it hit the floor.
 

The last zombie grabbed his shirt with one hand and pulled. Dave stumbled, foot catching on the corpse beneath him, but stayed on his feet.
 

He used the skull to break the creature’s arm off at the wrist then bash its face in. He came back to himself kneeling on the zombie’s legs, skull rising and falling into the bloody mess before him. He threw the skull as far as he could, gorge rising, and staggered away from the bodies.
 

The rain had made the pile of zombies mushy and a stream of blood and body parts trailed down the gutter that ran into the centre of the courtyard. The smell was damped by the storm but not gone entirely and the whiffs he got made his stomach churn. He held his hands out beneath the rain until the brains and blood were washed away, then went back into reception. The ladies stared at him, wide eyed, and he smiled at them.
 

It didn’t work this time, not how it had before. They looked scared and tired and he wondered whether they had any idea what he’d been through.
 

‘We’ll leave now.’

‘But it’s raining.’

‘It is, but it’s not nearly as bad as staying here and dealing with Jackson. The devil is speaking to him as well and he’s considerably stronger than I am.’

The ladies nodded but grumbled as he led them to the door. He pushed it open and chivvied them through and out into the rain. He came round to walk beside them and stared. The rain had slicked their tops to their skin and the red of their bellies showed through, pulsing beneath the white lights hung around the entrance.
 

His children were in those bellies and they wanted out. He could feel them, calling to him. He placed a hand on the belly nearest to him and the lady jumped beneath his touch. He smiled at her and felt the same energy he’d had upstairs. The lady smiled back at him, pushing the bump against his hand. Something moved inside and the lady grunted and stumbled. Dave supported her, and led her past the pile of bodies and out of the courtyard.
 

There were two more zombies between the Shard and the street, and both times Dave dealt with them as efficiently as he could. He still had no idea how to get them back to the theatre. The storm showed no signs of abating and the roads were running with rivers that carried dirt and rubbish past them where they stood on the pavement.
 

He needed a car. He approached the nearest and peered through the windows. Empty. He and his helper lowered the others as gently as possible into the back seat. He strapped himself in and pulled away from the curb. It was slow going, winding their way across the city. It was made slower still by the incessant cries and groans of the ladies, closer to giving birth than he liked.
 

They were halfway over Waterloo Bridge when one of the women screamed, the sound pure and high and cutting straight through his head. He stamped on the brakes and turned to ask her to shut up, when he saw her companion’s face. She was white, completely bloodless, and her mouth was open in a soundless wail.
 

The screaming lady tailed off and shifted in her seat. Blood dripped from it onto the floor and Dave swallowed hard, trying not to breath. His helper had turned as well and gasped. ‘She’s giving birth now, right now.’

Dave undid his seat belt and twisted round to kneel up on the seat. The lady had doubled over and wrapped her arms around herself, like she was trying to hide her bump from them.

‘What do we do?’

‘I don’t know. I guess we just have to support their birthing.’

‘How the hell do we do that?’

‘Hold their hand, tell them to breathe?’

‘Why are you here? You aren’t any bloody use.’

‘I need, I need…’ The lady giving birth twisted and turned in her seat.
 

‘What do you need?’

‘I need… to kneel up.’ She spun halfway around and got stuck between the seats. The other woman was struggling to move at all, mouth still open and twisted in pain. Dave scrambled out and opened the side door. He heaved the lady out of the car and onto the bridge. Lightning flashed across the sky and lit up the zombies that were scattered across the road.
 

Only a few had seen them but were already making their way across. Dave groaned and turned back to the lady. He helped her kneel on all fours and turned away. He was too late, though, to miss the blood that came streaming from beneath her skirt. His helper came round and knelt beside her, taking her hand and rubbing her back. For all the good that was going to do.
 

The lady screamed again and Dave swore as more zombie heads perked up and turned their way. Thunder ran roughshod over London and the zombies dropped to their faces. For a moment Dave felt like a messiah, being bowed to by his many worshippers. Then the thunder ended and he felt the weight as several hungry pairs of eyes fell on him. He wasn’t sure it felt all that different.
 

The lady arched her back like a cat stretching after a long sleep and her next scream came out as a wail that was swallowed by the storm. Another gout of blood splashed to the concrete. Dave turned away, not trusting himself to keep watching without being sick.
 

He focused on the zombies as they closed in. He didn’t want the mist to come down. The moment the babies were born he could bundle them and their mothers into the car and get away. He needed to be present and aware. But what he wanted didn’t matter. He had babies to protect.
 

He leapt at the first zombie and drove his fingers into its neck. The blow bit through its soft skin and drove straight through its windpipe. It reacted by swinging its arm, club-like through the air, and clouting him around the side of the head. He staggered to one side, fingers tearing free of the skin accompanied by a spurt of blood.
 

He slipped on the wet road and dropped to one knee. He saw past the zombie’s leg to where his charge knelt on all fours. Her skirt was around her waist and something was coming out of her, something red and grotesque that made his skin crawl. Then something else took over, something he couldn’t put a name to. It took only a second to recognise love.
 

The zombie reached for him and he grabbed its wrists, then planted his foot in its chest. Holding tight, he shoved with his foot. The arms tore away at the sockets and the zombie fell over on top of him. He let it come and drove his forehead into its nose as it landed.
 

Blood exploded over his face and he pressed his lips together to stop it flooding his mouth. He twisted, shifting the snapping zombie off him and onto the bridge. It thudded beside him, flapping about to get closer and take a chunk out of his shoulder. He rose to his knees, sat back on his haunches, and went to work with the arms he still clutched in both hands.
 

He beat it around the head until the bones at the end of the arms were white and exposed in the rain. Then he smashed those bones into its face until it stopped moving. He dropped the arms and rose to his feet. There were more zombies coming, but his eyes returned to the lady.
 

She wasn’t screaming any more. Her head hung down, sopping wet hair covering her face. The blood around her was so thick the rain was doing little to wash it away. And the baby was almost here. The mist was still there but he felt it change, felt the blood haze leave him and something else take over. He raced across and fell on his knees.
 

The baby slipped from her and fell into his arms. It was covered in thin, red fur and stared up at him with strange, slitted eyes. It was far larger than a new born baby had any right to be and it lay in his arms, still and peaceful. The rain washed the blood from his face, rain that mingled with his tears.
 

Then the baby opened its mouth and its scream filled the London night.
 

Bayleigh

‘We’re going back for her.’ Bayleigh said.

Luke nodded, but refused to meet her eyes. Alex shook his head, lips pressed flat. ‘We can’t. Luke knows we can’t.’

‘I don’t care what either of you knows. We’re going back.’

Bayleigh got the truck moving and had it half turned before Luke put his hands on her arm. ‘Stop. Not all of us.’

He took a deep breath. ‘Alex, take the truck and head out on the A40. You’ve got the satnav, you know where you’re going. You can text us once you’ve found somewhere. Bayleigh, you and I will take the artic and head back. It’ll be easier with that, anyway.’