Thirteen Roses Book One: Before: An Apocalyptic Zombie Saga (11 page)

'What do you mean...' He trailed off. 'Where am I?'

'The future. Your future, to be precise.'

'I'm not really here, am I?'

The flower seller cocked his head to one side, the friendly smile creeping back. 'Impressive. Most don't get outside the reality in which they find themselves. Why do you think that?'

'Because I wasn't here a minute ago.'

'Are you sure?'

Alex laughed bitterly and held the few roses he managed to gather together before him. 'You see anything else like this around? I just bought them from you and there's no way you sold them to me here.'

The flower seller threw back his head and laughed. 'That is true. Well spotted.'

'Is it real at all?'

The flower seller lost the smile. 'What do you think?'

Alex shrugged. 'Dunno. Could be. Something like this'll happen, you know. Don't think I'll figure it out, but twenty, thirty years down the line, it's gonna happen. Feels real.'

'Well perhaps that is your answer. How else does it feel?'

'Horrible. It feels horrible.'

The flower seller turned away and the light faded back in, like someone using a dimmer switch. He sat on a bench, the roses gripped tightly in one hand, Oyster card in the other. He blinked, squinting beneath the sunlight. The clouds were shifting and blue sky peeked through. He took a deep breath and stood.
 

The tube was close to empty at half ten in the morning. He looked at the message on his phone again and felt something clasp around his heart. It was a boy. He didn't know that, of course. It wasn't anything right now, just a foetus. His heart told him the truth of that lie in the next second and he noticed a tear drop onto the roses. It ran down the petal and into the heart of the rose, out of sight.
 

He took the long way round and every step sounded like a door shutting. What could he be? What could his son be? Did one cancel out the other? He wasn't his son. He wasn't anything, not yet. There was no religious issue here, having an abortion wasn't killing anything.
 

But potential. The chance of something happening, or not happening. His foot caught on a paving slab and he stumbled and came up short. He thought of a question he should have asked in the future. Who created the plague?

'Hey, are you there?' He caught funny looks from the couple across the street. He shouted louder. 'WHERE ARE YOU?'

Still no answer. Did it matter? If they had an abortion his son wouldn't stop the plague. Assuming any of it was real. But what if it was? He stopped before her front door, waiting. Something would come to him, some answer he hadn't found. But there was nothing. No shining pathway to lead him to the truth.
 

He thought, in some vague way, he should be freaking out over what had happened. He tried to, but he could barely remember it, the details already fading. He could still picture the light though, the smog and the sickly pale sunlight that filtered through. And he could remember the balloons, like the shadows of falling gods.
 

He blinked and Lisa's front door came back into focus. His life was stunted. A day ago his world could be anything, lead anywhere. Now he saw only drudgery. He knocked on the door and Lisa opened it. He handed her the flowers and she burst into tears.
 

'Hey, come on, come on.' He wrapped her up in his arms and they stood on the doorstep, roses poking awkwardly out from between them. Finally he took her indoors and made tea, and they sat and planned where the money was going to come from and where they would live.
 

They lay side by side in the bed, Lisa's breathing steady beside him. She'd always been able to sleep. He was seeing again the smile she wore when he said he'd stay and look after her. He had to focus on that, because his heart felt crushed beneath a weight too great to manage.
 

The boy arrived seven months later and grew up fast. Alex found his way into a job doing what he'd always wanted, and the fears that plagued him in those days before the birth fell away. His son, Jason, was the joy in both their lives, even as they grew apart and went separate ways.
 

It was amicable, for the most part, and Alex found no sadness in having more time to devote to his research. It was made better by the ever-increasing interest of Jason in the same field. They worked together, once he was old enough, and he soon surpassed Alex, theorising things his father hadn't even dreamed of.
 

Alex was a tenured professor, content and growing just a little lazy when Jason, thirty one and greedy for everything, burst into his office.
 

'I've got it. Dad, I've got it, I've actually got it.'

Alex blinked and looked up from his paper. There was a familiar note in Jason's voice, that of excitement and the surety that, this time, he'd cracked it. As they pored over the paper together, Alex felt his stomach twist as it hadn't done all the previous times. There was no way of knowing, not without testing, but it looked right. It felt right.

They did test it, of course. The moment came months later, in the university labs after hours. The lights were off, save for the bench where they worked. They talked in hushed voices, though there was no need. The place was deserted after ten at night. They knew because they'd been here till then every night for the past six weeks.
 

With shaking hands, Jason put the test tube into the centrifuge and switched it on. They said nothing as they watched it turn. It slowed and Jason reached for it. Alex put a hand on his arm.
 

'Wait. Just, wait.'

'Dad, we've been through this. God, over and over again. There's no harm in it.'

Alex laughed, a sound he'd heard once before. 'There's every harm in it. It's harm in a test tube, pure, undiluted harm.'

'But no one knows and no one will. Not unless we sell it.'

With those words, Alex went cold and took a step away. He grabbed Jason's arm and swung him round. His son had that gleam in his eye, the same he'd worn most of his life that had made him so proud. It was drive, determination, all the things he and Lisa had put in him. It looked different now.
 

It looked like madness.
 

'You can't sell this.'

'Of course not. The only people who would see this is the government, but we won't tell them either.'

Alex took a breath and let go of Jason's arm. His words helped, but the gleam was still there and he opened his mouth. What was the worst that could happen? He blinked and saw something in his mind's eye. It was a balloon, floating low above him and rose petals dropped from it to rain upon him.
 

He blinked again and saw the test tube, rising slowly from the centrifuge. Jason carried it over to the bench and slipped the pipe into the cover. In their sealed glass tank, Jack and Jill scurried about in mousey-ignorance, blind to what was about to befall them.
 

Inside the test tube what looked like dirt-ridden smog twisted and turned. A wisp of it ran up the tube and emerged into the tank. Jill was nearest, though Alex was never sure which was which. She twitched, tiny nose wrinkling up, then her eyes rolled back and she collapsed with a soft thump to the cage floor.
 

Alex and Jason drew nearer, staring at the cage. Jack was still on the far side, away from the smoke. If the mix did what they thought it would, it was the worst place he could be. Jill twitched, nose wriggling. She rolled over and back, tiny paws scratching at her fur. She climbed slowly to her feet.
 

They saw her eyes at the same time and the loudest noise in the laboratory was their joint gasps. They were red, every blood vessel burst and filling her eye. Then she moved, steadily and surely. The next thing Alex saw was her fastening her tiny teeth around her cage-mate's head and squeezing and squeezing.
 

Jack squealed, a pathetic sound that cut off as his head caved in. Jill set to work, gnawing and chewing, pieces of undigested mouse falling from both sides of her mouth. She was greedy for something, but nothing was going down. Once he was reduced to a pile of half-masticated bits, Jill picked one at random and settled down to her dinner, chewing slowly.
 

Alex turned away, one hand pressed to his mouth. The hand shook and he saw the balloon again. He turned back to the test tube and pulled the pipe out.
 

'We destroy this. We destroy the formula and all the research.'

'Dad, we can't. Look what we've done.'

'I'VE SEEN WHAT WE'VE DONE! We destroy everything.' His breath came in great gasps and he put a hand to his chest. 'What have we done, god, what have we done?'

'It's the ultimate weapon. There'll be no more wars. Dad, just think of it.'

'We destroy it.'

'You can't. It's not yours, it's mine.'

Alex stared, his mouth open. Jason looked past him and he realised what he was doing just a second too late. His son dashed past and grabbed his notebook off the desk. He was out the door before Alex had even turned. He looked at the test tube clutched in his hand. He could smell roses.
 

Interlude

They'd tricked him. Somehow, they'd tricked him. The list made it quite clear which direction was the right one and he'd steered him expertly. Now the Seer was telling him his latest subject was going to help destroy the world.
 

How was that the right direction? He was supposed to be a guardian, a protector of the world. Instead he'd scared one man into making a decision that would bring the most terrible pain to every living soul on Earth. A small part, almost too quiet to hear, giggled.

And what about the others? He peered out at the thousands of chambers. In a few decades, they'd all be out of a job. That wasn't going to be popular, particularly with the angels who'd spent the last however-many thousand years trying to make things better.
 

The flower seller dropped the list and stalked across his chamber. He stepped out and dropped. The Dome of the Father grew bigger as he fell, imposing and, as always, faintly reminiscent of a huge breast. His wings caught the currents and he soared and turned until he reached the entrance. It was busy today.
 

He squeezed past a couple of goat-footed demons and headed for the bar. Seph would be there by now, as would Az. They should be the first to know. Truth was, they were the only two in here who might be able to hear it without attacking him. Being made of pure energy meant no dying, but pain was in plentiful supply.
 

The bar was heaving, the conversation high, and he stopped at the door. Something was already happening. There was a buzz in the place, more than usual. Herc ambled over and gave him a nod of his enormous, ram-shaped head. 'Evening, Luke.'
 

'Hi Herc, what's going on?'

'You haven't heard?' He had an impressive rumble to his voice. 'The Father is coming to visit.'

The flower seller, Luke, went cold and shivered. Rubbing his upper arms, he raised an eyebrow and strove to keep his voice steady. 'Why's that?'

'Big news, apparently.'

'Oh.' The goosebumps racing up his arms faded and he relaxed. 'Any idea what?'

Herc shook his massive head. 'Not a clue, you know they don't tell me anything. You'll know when it happens though, don't worry.'

Luke gave him a nod and sidled through the door, picking his way through the crowds until he reached their table. As suspected, Seph and Az were there. Az had his head down and scratched furiously between his horns, mussing the dark hair that sprouted there. As always, Luke resisted the urge to have a go himself.
 

Seph raised an eyebrow and waved to a seat, pouring him a drink from the massive jug dominating the table.
 

'Join us, please. We have so much to celebrate.'

'You do?'

'But of course, my fine friend. Today, I cleared my week. Four-two up with a day in hand. Az brought quite astonishing pain and suffering and started a war. Between us, we've kept the balance very nicely. I do so like to think of us as a microcosm of the world down there.'

'So what am I?'

'Ah, you, my friend, are the random. You're the thing that no one expects. How's your week?'

Luke shook his head, staring down into the dark liquid thrust before him. 'I don't know. I think I'm three-three with all to play for, but, well...'

Az heard the note in his voice and raised his head. His thin yellow eyes always seemed to see more than the others. It was why he was so unpopular. That and the ten feet of muscled red demon that came out when he got particularly drunk or angry.
 

'Yes?'

Luke held up both hands, beginning to think this wasn't such a good idea. 'Well, I think I ended the world.'

'Oh.' Az took a long swig of his drink, put his head back down and resumed scratching. His voice was muffled from where he talked to the table. 'I think that at least once a week. It's not a good week when I don't.'

'Yeah, but you're a demon, you're supposed to think that. I'm not.'

'You did once.'

'Yeah, well, people change.' Luke glared at the top of Az's head and looked back at Seph. His friend frowned and leaned forwards. 'What did you do?'

'What I was supposed to.' His voice took on that annoyingly petulant tone the Father had warned him about, but he couldn't help it. 'The list said what saving meant so I did it.'

'And?'

'And I saved him. Only saving him meant letting his son be born, which meant the horrible crap he was supposed to do just got passed down to his son.'

'And what horrible crap would that be?'

'He's invented a, I don't know, serum or something, it's like a gas. It turns everyone who comes anywhere near it into zombies.'

Seph raised an eyebrow and chuckled. 'Zombies? Like real, Romero zombies?'

'Exactly, only I think they're closer to
28 Days
zombies. I've only been given glimpses. We've got a few decades.'