Thirteen Roses Book Two: After: A Paranormal Zombie Saga (7 page)

Alex couldn't make a cure. Luke wasn't surprised, not if he was honest with himself. He would have been a week ago, before the meeting with Kali. But she'd opened a whole bunch of doors he'd kept closed for far too long, and he was beginning to understand the hidden depths to what was happening.

It was a conspiracy. The thought made him chuckle. He'd spent most of his many, many years revelling in such underhand and destructive pleasures. Then he'd been bound and trapped, and lived in his cage for so long he'd forgotten that's what it was. What had irked him on his journey to and from Italy, was the realisation that despite finally escaping his cage, he still carried it with him.
 

But the reason for that was obvious and more annoying than any conspiracy. His newfound humanity had him more trapped than any cage the Father made for him. His soul resided within him, newly formed and already suffering.
 

On his escape from the cage of the Flights, he'd reverted to type, believing himself finally free. But it had taken only days before the regret set in. Now every morning he woke with the faces of the three men in the bar before him, wracked with pain and anguish. The soldiers and priests in St Peter's he felt no guilt for. They had made their choices and they were bad ones. But those men had done nothing wrong.
 

Luke cursed and spat. Who cared? What did it matter who did what wrong? He was the prince of lies, the bringer of pain, why the hell did he care whether someone deserved it?

But he did care. He cared bitterly and angrily, and with a constant argument in his skull that wouldn't leave until he resumed his place in the Flights. Back in his cage. Where he believed in helping people, in changing the world one soul at a time. He spat again. How had he done that for centuries and not questioned it? The Father had a lot to answer for.
 

He watched his feet thump along the pavement. He felt the warm sun kissing his forehead and nose, the gradual turning of the earth beneath him. These things he had never felt before, despite being part of this system for so long. There were advantages to being human. But this wretched soul and pathetic morality certainly weren't part of them.
 

His thoughts returned to the question that had being plaguing him all weekend. Why Az? What did he have against him? They were friends and had been for many decades and, despite his harsh exterior, he was trapped in the same cage Luke had just escaped from. So why send him here and curse him to a life trapped on a planet blighted by plague?

He had a reason. He had to have a reason, but despite more hours than were healthy applied to the problem, Luke was no closer to finding the answer. Perhaps he should ask Alex and see what he thought. He stopped just short of pulling his hair out. Where had that come from? Since when had he ever listened to anyone, let alone a human? That was the soul again, bearing down on him like a strict master with a cane and eyes like gun barrels.
 

They took the train and then another, then grabbed a taxi out to the site. When they reached there it was dark and clouds filled the sky, jostling and vying for space in the crimson of the sunset. As they trudged away from the road, Luke could feel Alex's eyes upon him.
 

'What's here?'

Luke sighed. He wasn't ever going to stop asking questions. No matter how little interest Luke showed in speaking to him, he was going to keep asking and asking and asking. He ground his teeth together. Had he pissed Az off? He wasn't the best judge of character, but he thought he'd have noticed if he did. Perhaps Az had no idea of the level of torture he was going through.
 

Luke stopped and glanced around at the spider-like trees and the hills rising behind them.

'There are certain places in the world where the Father's power comes through stronger. They are places where the barrier between Earth and the other worlds are thinner. St Paul's is one of them and this is another. I prefer this place, it has good memories for me.'

They trudged up the path as Alex digested what was said. Luke smiled wryly into the darkness, awaiting the usual disbelief and doubt. He was surprised by the next question.
 

'What are the other worlds?'

'That's a big question to answer. I'm not sure you're quite ready for that knowledge. What would be the point, when you wouldn't believe it anyway?'

'Imagine I believe everything. Imagine I've thrown my logic out the window and am now ready to accept that what you say it true. You're an angel, your boss is God and there is a heaven and hell—'
 

'I never said that. I've never said the word God. He, as he is recognised today, is an entirely human construct and despite what you may have heard, belief does not create, not in that way. Every single person in the world could believe in the same deity and he still wouldn't exist, not as some omnipotent, prayer-worthy being.'

'How come,' Alex replied, 'if everything else is true, he isn't? How can you just screw with the rules like that?'

'First of all, there are no rules. Remember that, because everyone wants rules and when they find out there aren't any, they bitch and moan as if some mystical being let them down. Second of all, God was a joke made up a long time ago by a bunch of angry old men who used it to beat a population into submission. That so many people still believe in him is the biggest joke of all.'

He took a deep breath. The night was climbing down the mountain around them and creeping over the path, hiding where his feet wanted to tread and obscuring the hills. Now he saw only spindly trees and shadows. It felt like home, his real home. Despite the dark, he could still feel Alex's eyes upon him.
 

'It's all about perspective. You struggle to believe in the Father because you see him as this mystical figure in the clouds, just like the joke says. He isn't. Yes, he and I have a different energetic footprint, but we exist just as you do. We have our own world and way of life. The human condition is to view everything through a prism of your own experiences. You believe, whether you think so or not, that when you aren't in the room, nobody's talking, unless it's about you—'

'That's not true. Philosophers have been exploring that for centuries, since ancient Greece even.'

'They have, but do you think what a bunch of hairy old men think makes a blind bit of difference to David the adulterer, or Bayleigh the sandwich shop owner, or Alex, the budding scientist with a bit too much ambition? Normal people with normal lives couldn't give a toss about philosophy. Their lives revolve around them. God and religion is created to serve them, as much as they might serve it instead.'

'I don't believe you. I'm sorry, but you're just wrong. What about the people who don't believe, like me? Religion has no power over me.'

'You worship something else, and perhaps something with more clearly defined evidence to support its existence. But you still let it hold sway over your life.' Luke paused. 'But your original question was about other worlds.'

Alex grunted but didn't reply. Was he having a sulk? Luke was hoping for a more challenging argument. Had the scientist noticed his own choice of words? Not 'you're wrong' or 'your argument is flawed' but 'I don't believe you.' Luke smiled.
 

They were nearly at the shrine and the hill rose before them. He set off up the steep incline, hearing Alex puff along beside him. Eventually he scientist spoke again, voice smaller this time. 'What are the other worlds?'

Luke chuckled. 'Just what I said. Other places, some like this, others entirely different. Where they are similar is they all carry life. Where I live is the centre of all this and where the Father lives is above that, staring down on all his subjects.' He didn't bother to keep the sneer from his voice.
 

'So the Father is God, right?'

'That depends upon how you define God. Do you mean the Christian god, or Mohammad, or Buddah, or someone else? Because whichever of those you choose, you would be both right and wrong. There is a Father, who stands 'above' everything and makes choices we only see the repercussions from millennia later. Beneath him lies every religious, mystical or mythical being you can imagine, buried beneath a city's worth of hierarchy, bitching and confusion. But if you've heard of them, they almost certainly exist and work, in some way, for the Father. Except for dwarves and elves and those sorts of things. They're just made up.'

Silence answered Luke and it was more than the silence of his companion. It was always quiet up on the tor, though most visitors didn't realise it. But tonight the silence was absolute, as though the place already knew what was about to happen. It probably did, just like the Father did also.
 

There were questions he'd expected of Alex that had yet to arrive. Maybe it was the battle within him, the part that still refused to believe in something that came without statistics and proof. Maybe later.
 

'Are you beginning to believe, scientist?'

His answer was the huffing breaths of his companion, and he smiled. He reached the summit and stared out over the surrounding countryside. There were shadows and the ghosts of trees and standing stones, but little else. The clouds were absolute now, the light of the moon hidden away.
 

Luke blinked and brought forth another of his aspects until he could see. The world was still dark, but everything was made of energy and he could see it now, the silent coursing of energetic resonance. The sort of thing upon which Alex based all his work. He chuckled.
 

'I'll begin in a minute or two and give you time to get your breath back. Nothing like meeting the creator of all things red-faced and panting.'

'You've experience in that field, then?'

Luke blinked and sighed. 'I have indeed. And I wasn't given the choice.'

Alex burst out laughing. 'Like I have a choice. You offer to take me to meet the god of all gods--'

'That's not right, you're doing it again. There
are
no gods. There are plenty of beings that you people call gods who are in fact, simply beings. There is only the Father. He doesn't much like the title God, which is why I call him it on every possible occasion.'

'Fine, whatever, one god, or Father or whatever. But you ask if I want to meet him and expect me to be able to say no?'

'It is tempting, isn't it? Although, seeing as you don't think he exists, I wouldn't have thought it was all that enticing.'

'Yeah, well, we'll see, won't we?'

There was still that note in his voice, as if he expected Luke to say the words and hold forth the gem, and the two of them to stand in embarrassed silence until Luke's minder came and took him back to the mental home. There was something entirely pleasant about that concept. A peaceful padded cell and lots of drugs. He hadn't tried drugs since he picked up a soul. Perhaps once the apocalypse came and he had a bit more time...

'Got your breath back?'

'Yeah. Let's do this.'

There was mockery there and Luke smiled. This should be fun. He lifted the gem above his head and muttered the words. The power was instantaneous, flooding up through the earth and into him. Alex gasped and Luke's smile grew wider. He was Sensitive. How ironic was that?

The gem lit up and cold blue light emanated from it, like he held a torch growing steadily brighter. Then the light shrank as though he closed shutters around it, until it focused on the grass in front and formed a bright square that made him squint.
 

The gem had its own power and now he let it go. It stayed where it was, hovering above him, and Alex gasped again. The square rose up and formed a door, a bright outline in ice blue against the black night. Luke reached into the light and pulled it open, then turned and gestured for Alex to step through.
 

Still wearing a frown, Alex put one foot hesitantly through and disappeared. With a smile and a shake of his head, Luke plucked the gem out of the air and followed him. Moments later, the doorway vanished.
 

David

They saw him! They turned, in ones and twos, as he raced towards them. As more of the cold, dead eyes looked his way, his stomach lurched and climbed into his mouth. What was he doing? He didn't have time to think or even contemplate where this would end. He just had to run.
 

He dashed straight at them, turning only at the last minute to run past the crowd. He imagined putting his hand out for high fives, like a marathon runner passing his fans. Then he imagined one of them sinking their teeth into it and he pulled his arms in as close as he could. Then he was past them and free.
 

He didn't look behind, but he could hear them, snuffling and shuffling in his wake as they chased their food. He was covered in sweat and blinked furiously as it dripped into his eyes. He dared to wipe it away, expecting a zombie to grab his arm at any second. But he was on his way. He was the wind, they'd never catch him.
 

A sound, very different from the endless groaning of the zombies, reached him and he hesitated, stride faltering. He caught his toe against the pavement and almost fell, arms pinwheeling madly as his brain went blank. He was screaming as he went over and struck the concrete. His arms ended up beneath him, and despite the stabbing pain that flashed through his left elbow, he still had a second to wonder what the noise was.
 

Then his face hit the floor and his scream cut off as his thoughts scattered. He rolled and tumbled and struck the wrought iron fence that bordered the street. The world stopped spinning and he looked up into the face of a zombie as it reached down. How had they got to him so quickly?

He grabbed its wrists as it lunged and shoved as hard as he could. It staggered back, and he scrambled to his feet. The creature came straight back at him and he leapt to one side. A flailing hand grasped at him but he wriggled free and set off, legs pumping. At any moment his heart was going to leap free of his ribcage and start doing the tango on the pavement.