Zom-B Underground (7 page)

In zom HQ. The others are still giving me the cold shoulder because of what I did to Cathy. I’ve tried apologizing but the snooty cow just ignores me. Sod her, the rest of them too. I don’t care. Real loneliness is when your dad beats up your mum and you’re lying in your bedroom, listening to her weep in the room next door, and it feels like the whole world’s against you. A bunch of petty zombies giving me the evils? Doesn’t bother me in the least.

The door opens and Reilly enters, Josh Massoglia just behind him. “You guys ready for some fun and games?” Josh roars.

“Damn right!” Rage bellows, rallying the others and shooing them towards the door. I haven’t seen them this excited before.

“What about me?” Mark cries. “Can I come?”

“Sorry,” Josh says. “We gave you the once-over a few days ago when we had you in for a checkup. The burns are still really bad. It’s best you sit out this one.”

“Don’t worry, Worm,” Rage chuckles. “We’ll tell you all about it when we come home.”

Mark looks crestfallen. If he could cry, he’d be blinking back tears.

As the others gather by the door, Josh looks over at me. “You just gonna sit there or do you want in on this too?”

“I’m invited?” I ask suspiciously, thinking it might be a trap.

“Of course,” Josh says. “Why wouldn’t you be?” He raises an eyebrow at Rage. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

Rage smiles quickly. “Not at all. The more the merrier. Come on, B, hurry up, you don’t want to make us late.”

I’d like to tell the big lump to get stuffed, but I don’t want to miss out on this. So I say nothing, only line up with the rest of them and follow Josh and Reilly out of zom HQ and into the heart of the complex.

Cathy cuddles up close to Josh as we’re walking—well, as close as he’ll let her, worried as he must be that she might accidentally scratch him and condemn him to living death. She makes cow eyes at him and actually asks if he’s been working out. Give me strength! Josh laughs it off and pretends he doesn’t know that she’s got a crush on him.

We come to a door that requires a security code as well as the
usual finger and retinal scans. Reilly opens it and we step into a room packed with weapons of all description. They’re locked away in padlocked, thick steel cages, and I don’t see any keys on either of the soldiers. Doesn’t look like they want to take the chance of us going wild and getting our hands on a full arsenal.

Some of the weapons have been laid on a table in the middle of the room. “Take your pick,” Josh says grandly. “Girls first.”

I approach with Cathy and cast an eye over the loot. Flamethrowers, stun guns, spears, large knives, axes and small chainsaws. Two of each.

“Wow!” Cathy exclaims, rushing to grab a chainsaw. “These are new. They’re awesome.”

“Have you used a chainsaw before?” Josh asks.

“No.”

“You’d better be careful. They’re nasty if you swing them the wrong way. Maybe you should leave that to the boys.”

“I’ll be fine,” Cathy smirks, pulling a cord to turn it on. She scythes through the air with the buzzing saw a couple of times, then turns it off and hangs it by her side. I hate to admit it, but she looks cool as hell.

“Becky?” Josh asks.

“I don’t know.” I study the weapons glumly. I’ve never used anything like this before. I’m worried that I’ll pick something I can’t use and end up looking like a mug. Maybe I should have stayed in zom HQ with Mark.

“We normally insist on pairs,” Reilly explains. “Now that Cathy’s chosen a chainsaw, somebody else has to choose one too. Usually, if you picked a flamethrower and Rage stepped up next and chose a knife, the final three would have to make their choice from those weapons, one each.”

“But now there’s seven of you,” Josh says. “So there will have to be an odd one out. Tell you what, since this is your first time, you can have dibs on the exclusive weapon. So unless you fancy a chainsaw, pick from any of the others and we’ll remove that choice for the rest.”

I walk around the table, studying the weapons. I run a hand over a flamethrower and remember my introduction to life in this brave new world. I see Rage’s eyes narrow–he wants a flamethrower–and I nearly pick it just to spite him. But I don’t like fire.

“I’ll take a spear,” I decide, keeping it simple. The others make their choices. When we’re ready, we carry our weapons through to another room, where leather suits and helmets are hanging up for us.

The trousers feel strange as I tug them on. I was never much into leather. I owned a couple of jackets in my time but no pants or shirts. The clothes feel tight on me, uncomfortable even with my less sensitive skin.

“Are these really necessary?” I grumble.

“They’ll help protect you,” Josh says. “You saw the way Rage was bitten. Leather
can
be penetrated, but not as easily as regular clothing. You’ll be glad of it if a revived sinks their teeth into one of your legs or arms.”

“But they can’t infect us now, can they?” I frown. “We’re zombies already.”

“They can still hurt us, you idiot,” Cathy snaps.

“A bite or a scratch stings like a bitch,” Tiberius tells me. “And though moss will grow around it, you’ll carry the wound for the rest of your life.”

“Fair enough.” I start to pull my T-shirt off, then pause. I don’t have anything on underneath. I was never shy about my body, but I didn’t go about flashing my tits to one and all. I glance around the room. The others are taking off their clothes and pulling on the leathers without any worries. The boys don’t cover themselves, and Cathy doesn’t either. They don’t gape at one another or make suggestive comments, just get on with things, as if they’re too grown-up to worry about a little nudity.

I shrug and pull off my T-shirt.

“Bloody hell!” Tiberius gasps and everybody looks up. At first I think he’s staring at my boob and I prepare a hot retort. Then I realize it’s the hole in my chest that caught his attention. “That’s incredible.”

“Not as incredible as your ginger hair,” I mutter, but I feel oddly proud. The others can boast a cool variety of scars and bite marks, but nothing as outlandish as this.

Cathy comes closer and stares deep into the gaping hole. “That must have hurt like hell,” she whispers.

“I can’t remember,” I lie, suppressing a shiver as I recall what it
felt like when Tyler ripped my beating heart from between the shattered bones of my chest.

Cathy reaches out to put her hand in the hole, then pauses. “Do you mind?”

“Of course I bloody mind,” I snort. “That’d be like me asking if I could stick my hand up your arse.”

Everyone laughs and I tug on a leather shirt.

“It’s an impressive wound,” Cathy says grudgingly, then winks at me. “But the breast wasn’t so hot.”

“Get stuffed,” I grunt, but we share a grin and I think she’s finally forgiven me for cutting off her hair.

“Right,” Josh says when we’re ready, weapons in one hand, helmets in the other. “Most of you know the drill but I’ll go through it again for Becky’s sake. We’re going to put you in with a group of reviveds. There’s a speaker system inside each helmet. We’ll be issuing orders as you go.”

“Let’s hope nobody breaks rank this time,” Reilly huffs, looking pointedly at Rage.

“I’ve said sorry for that already,” Rage groans. “I lost my head. It won’t happen again. Promise.”

“To start with, stand still,” Josh goes on. “Let them mill around you. If they attack, defend yourself, but don’t stir them up until we tell you. And when you do, follow orders as closely as you can, as long as you can, until things get chaotic. When we think the
situation’s getting out of hand, we’ll drop the nets and bring proceedings to a close. Any questions?”

“What’s the point of it all?” I ask.

“We’re testing the reviveds,” Josh says. “Their reactions, what they respond to, what they ignore, how much they remember on an instinctive level from their old lives. We’ll also be checking if they show signs of revitalizing, but that’s not the main goal of the experiment, since it happens so rarely.”

“How far can we go?” I press. “Do we draw the line at dismembering them, killing them, what?”

“You can’t kill them,” Josh laughs. “They’re already dead.”

“You know what I mean. If we destroy their brains, we’ll finish them off. That’s killing in my book.”

“Well it shouldn’t be,” Josh snaps, losing his smile. “Don’t think of these as people. Not even animals. They’re walking corpses, monsters who would rip apart everything we know and cherish. They slaughtered friends of yours, maybe family members too, and one of them even killed
you
. There should be no room in your heart for sympathy, not where these beasts are concerned.”

“Tear them to pieces,” Danny snarls. “They’d do even worse to you if they had the chance.”

“Well said.” Josh is beaming again. “Now, if you’re all ready and willing, let’s do some business.”

Everyone cheers and roars like gladiators. Reilly opens a
door–not the one we entered by–and we pass along a short corridor, just us seven zom heads, leaving the soldiers behind.

We enter a bare room like the one I found myself in the first time I recovered my senses. White walls, lots of windows, soldiers and scientists crowded behind them.

Rage clomps to the middle of the room and the rest of us follow. We form a tight circle. I’m nervous and I can tell that the others are too. They’ve been looking forward to this–it breaks the monotony–but in the quiet moments before it kicks off, they tense and wonder what will happen if it goes wrong.

Each of us tests our weapon, flexes our muscles, prepares for battle. I start to wish I’d chosen something more substantial than a spear. I don’t feel as protected as the others. I wish I could swap it for a chainsaw.

Then three doors click open at the same time, in three different walls. There’s a short pause, flickering shadows, the smell of blood in the air. Then about thirty zombies slip into the room, spread out, shake their heads and fix their snarling, ravenous sights on us.

I instinctively raise my spear. Josh’s voice comes crackling through the speaker in my helmet. “Easy, Becky. Remember what I told you. Just stand still for the time being and chill.”

“
Chill
my arse,” I mutter sourly, but I lower the spear and watch nervously as the zombies draw closer.

The first to come within striking distance is a woman. She’s dressed in a filthy, tattered green blouse and a matching skirt. There are bite marks up and down her arms, as if her boyfriend got out of control when they were making out. Her eyes have a gray, cloudy film over them, like a blind person’s, but by the way she focuses on me, I’m sure that she can see well enough.

The woman pauses in front of me and sniffs the air. Her mouth is open and her long, sharp teeth are bared. She makes a growling sound and I think she’s getting ready to attack. My fingers tighten on the spear. But then she reels away to sniff the others.

I’m not sweating inside my helmet–I can’t–but I feel hotter than normal. I keep a close eye on the zombies as they shuffle around, staring, sniffing, fingers twitching. I keep expecting one to realize that we’re different, attack and set off the rest of their undead pack. But they don’t. Because we’re not
that
different, not in the most important way—like them, we’re dead. Zombies clearly only have a taste for the living.

“That’s good,” Josh murmurs. “Let them get used to you.”

“This is freaking me out,” I croak.

“No,” he says. “You’ve adjusted faster than the others did. You’re the first to hold your nerve when making primary contact with reviveds. Even Rage lashed out the first time he was exposed.”

That makes me feel smug. Of course it could be a load of bull and Josh might be saying it just to settle me down, but who can resist flattery like that? I treat myself to a self-indulgent chuckle, imagining Rage in a panic. I’ll tease him about that later.

We hold our ground, letting the zombies move around freely. They don’t have much interest in anything, not even each other. They creep in their own directions, swiveling to avoid collisions when they catch sight of one another but not communicating or cooperating in any clear way.

I start to feel sorry for them. They were real people once, with families, jobs, friends, hopes, dreams. What if some small part of them is still alive in there, if they can sense what they’ve become? How awful would that be?

“Okay,” Josh says. “We’re going to shake things up a bit. Raise your spear.”

I hold it up as Josh instructs, then wave it threateningly at a passing zombie.

The zombie doesn’t react.

“Do it again,” Josh says. “But yell this time.”

I roar at a different zombie–a man–and poke my spear at him, but he ignores me like the first one did.

The other zom heads make threatening gestures too, reacting to instructions. We must each have a separate guide, someone to direct us individually.

“Back up closer to the others,” Josh says. “Form a tighter circle, so the reviveds can’t pass between you.”

I ease back as ordered, until my elbows brush against Danny’s and Gokhan’s. Danny has a chainsaw, Gokhan an ax.