Changeling: Zombie Dawn (12 page)

‘It’s a trick, I tell you. Mirrors or something!’

‘I dunno . . .’

There was a sudden push of people from Robert’s right and his hand was wrenched clear of Jake’s. He stumbled to one side a little, only just managing to stay on his feet. He turned, bellowing his son’s name, a gut-twisting panic gripping him as he realized Jake might have fallen. He was a good head taller than most of those around him, but he could not make out where Jake was.

‘Dad!’

He heard his son’s voice calling him from somewhere off to his left, and he dived through the crowd, wrenching and pulling at those around him in his panic to get to his boy. And then suddenly there he was. Jake had sensibly grabbed hold of a concrete rubbish bin set into the pavement, and was clinging on to it.

Robert bent down and picked the youngster up.

‘Put me down, Dad. I’m too heavy for you to carry.’

Robert ignored the boy and the pain in his back as he straightened up. He turned his head to glance again at the door that had appeared in the citadel’s black stone wall. Because it was a door. It was no longer in its liquid form, it was a black, gaping maw now, and some of the people right at the front of the crowd had gingerly crept forward to peer into the darkness, to see if they could make out what lay within.

Robert heard the first scream before the creatures appeared.

Then he saw them.

He gasped, pulling Jake’s head into his shoulder to block out any view the child might have of the things that charged out of the gap.

That they were zombies, he had little doubt. Even from this distance he knew nothing could have survived the terrible wounds those creatures had suffered and still be alive in any conventional sense. Both appeared to have had their throats torn out; long ragged ribbons of flesh hung down below their chins and flapped about as they ran. The undead creature that had once been a man also had a huge gaping hole in his face. But no blood came from the wounds. Robert was surprised how quickly they moved. None of the shambling and shuffling stuff of movies – these creatures tore into the crowd before them, biting and slashing and rending anything in their path, often grabbing on to the next victim and pulling them into a deadly embrace even before the last one was dead.

Thankful that he and Jake had got a head start on most of the crowd, Robert pressed on. But everyone was running now. The mass of people had transformed from fascinated onlookers to panic-stricken escapees in the blink of an eye, and were charging about in every direction, desperate to get away. Some dragged those in front of them back so that they could take their place, and many fell beneath the feet of the stampeding horde, their screams echoing those of the unfortunates already in the zombies’ clutches.

Robert tried to push his legs faster, but the weight of his son in his arms stopped him. As if sensing this, Jake shook his head free from beneath his father’s hand and looked up at him. ‘I can run,’ he said. ‘Put me down. Please!’

Robert nodded, and lowered the boy to the floor. The crowd was streaming past them now, and they were both almost knocked over again as they stood in its tide. They held hands once more, and Robert saw an unexpected look on the boy’s face: that of determination.

They set off, keeping a tight grip on each other.

They ran straight up the centre of the road, pumping their legs and gasping for breath as the adrenalin coursed through their bloodstream. But when they caught sight of what lay ahead, they slowed, as those around them had done, staring in disbelief. They watched as the fastest runners, those who had got way ahead of the rest of the crowd, went crashing into what could only be some sort of invisible barrier. They ran headlong into it and stuck for a moment, their bodies jerking violently as if struck by a lightning bolt, before being thrown backwards to the ground where they then lay, unmoving. Robert could see this happening across the width of the road and pavement. Looking to his right, up an arterial road, he could see the same thing happening – people slamming into an unseen barricade, only to be forcefully thrown back to the concrete as lifeless mannequins.

‘What’s going on, Dad?’ Jake asked, the terror in his voice causing it to go up in pitch so that the boy screamed the question at his father.

Robert snapped his attention straight ahead again as he caught sight of a police van speeding up the road towards them. Its blue lights were on, but it occurred to Robert that he could not hear the engine or the sound of the tyres or, indeed, the siren he was certain would be accompanying those flashing bulbs.

The driver was gesticulating out of the front window for the people inside the invisible barrier to get out of the way, and sure enough a number did so, grabbing and pulling at those nearest to them to make a path for the vehicle to pass through. The route clear, the police vehicle sped up, and Robert watched as it came to the point in the road where the force field – for he was convinced that was what it must be – separated the two sides. He instinctively ducked as the van crashed into the invisible wall, its front caving inward under the impact, its occupants jolted sickeningly forward against their seat belts as airbags exploded.

There was no sound from the crash. The only noise that came to Robert’s ears was that of the screams and shouts all around him as people realized they were trapped. Trapped inside an invisible barrier. With zombies.

He felt Jake tugging at his hand, and looked down at the boy. His son pointed off to his left. A man was standing in a shop doorway no more than three metres away. He beckoned at them, silently urging them to hurry. They ran in his direction.

‘Come in, come in,’ he said, looking over their shoulders at the sea of people. ‘Quickly!’

They glanced at each other for a moment before stepping inside. As soon as they’d passed him, the old man quickly closed the door, throwing two bolts, top and bottom, to lock it. The inside of the door had a protective metal mesh covering the glass.

‘I couldn’t leave you out there,’ the man said, turning to them. He had a long measuring tape draped round his neck, and one brief glance at the interior confirmed to Robert that they were inside a tailor’s shop. ‘Not with a youngster, I couldn’t.’ He looked out through the glass pane of the door again before pulling a curtain across. He turned to face them.

‘I’ve been through it all before,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry?’ Robert managed. ‘Been through what?’

‘The war. The Nazis! That’s what they are, these hooligans: Nazis!’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘They’ve smashed my shop windows up on more than one occasion. That was in the bad old days, when they were everywhere. Great gangs of them fighting in the streets. Skinheads in jackboots.’ He looked at Jake and nodded his head as if to insist that he was speaking the truth. ‘Now it looks like they’re back.’

‘You need to let more of those people in!’ Jake said, not understanding what the old man was going on about. ‘They’re in danger!’

‘No!’ the old man said. ‘If they want to beat each other senseless, let them. I just didn’t want a youngster like you caught up in it.’

‘It’s not hooliganism,’ Robert said, surprised at the calm in his own voice.

‘What?’

‘Didn’t you see the thing?’ Jake said. ‘The tower?’

‘Tower? What tower?’

Robert realized that the shop must have been shut, the man working behind his curtained window when the black citadel had arrived. He quickly took stock of their situation, glancing down with concern at his son who kept looking towards the door every time he heard a scream or shout outside.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘We should keep the door shut—’

‘But, Dad! Those people out there—’

‘Sit down, Jake,’ his father said, nodding towards a red leather sofa by the far wall. The boy reluctantly did so.

‘Mr – ?’ Robert nodded at the old man, offering his hand.

‘Lipman. Benjamin Lipman.’

‘Thank you for letting us in, Mr Lipman. Now I think you should sit down too.’ He gestured for the old man to join his son on the sofa. ‘I need to tell you what’s really going on out there.’

Caliban stood looking out at the scenes of chaos unravelling before him, the sounds of terrified screams reaching him from the streets below. The death toll was already more than satisfactory, and he’d been surprised at the carnage just two of Helde’s creatures had caused in such a short period of time. He’d watched as the zombies charged into the crowd, killing and maiming everything before them. They were insatiable and moved with incredible speed over short distances. The immediate area in front of the tower was now littered with dead bodies. Bodies which would not stay dead for long.

He’d been amused at the ineffectual attempts of the police to deal with the situation. Cut off from all communications outside the dome, they’d had to act on their own initiative. A mounted officer had charged at one of the revenants, the horse smashing the zombie to the ground where its hoofs had crushed the creature. Caliban had watched, a smile on his face, as the police officer had first reined the horse to a halt, then wheeled it about, only to shout out in horror at the sight of the mangled zombie getting back to its feet. He spurred the horse forward again, but this time the undead creature was ready for him. It leaped up, hooked an arm round the officer’s waist and dragged him out of the saddle. Moments later, the policeman’s screams were abruptly cut short.

The sight of all the blood was igniting the vampire’s own desires, and he could feel the irresistible urge to go out and hunt.

Trying to take his mind off his own hunger, he gazed out at those humans he could see gathered at the limits of the impenetrable Shield that Helde was maintaining around them. Many of them still flung themselves against the invisible wall, despite having seen others’ excruciating attempts to escape in the same way.

The dome of protection was not as big as he’d wanted; Helde had felt it prudent to keep the radius much shorter than they’d originally planned, arguing with him that it was better to have a smaller, stronger Shield than one which extended further but was less stable and prone to breaches from the outside.

‘And the zombies will find it easier to track down prey that escape the initial attacks,’ she also pointed out.

The plan was to wait until the zombies’ victims started to reanimate, recapture the nearest few, and then simply move the tower on, leaving his brother to deal with the carnage left in their wake. Helde would need a short period in which to recuperate, but there were many places they could move Leroth to that were far enough away from his brother’s forces to give them the time they needed. Then they could repeat the process over and over again in different locations, moving in and out quickly, and wreaking havoc anywhere and everywhere without the need to endanger themselves too much.

He had to admit, it was a brilliant plan. The zombie plague would spread like wildfire. Merely releasing two revenants had resulted in the wounding or death of at least fifty humans so far, and soon these would reawaken and begin to attack for themselves. When that happened, the Shield would not be here to contain them any longer and the spread would be fantastic: fifty would quickly turn into hundreds, hundreds into thousands, until in no time there would be a zombie army on the march with no one left to stop it. Even his brother – and his werewolf sidekick – could not fight a whole zombie army, legend or no legend. Then he would put into place the second part of his plan: setting up prison camps of captured surviving humans that he and his kind could feed from – battery farms in which the vampires would breed an inexhaustible supply of food.

He turned to look at Helde who was slumped on his throne, her eyes closed, mouth moving silently.

He’d assured the sorceress that he would not leave her while she was in this state. The concentration and effort needed to perform the magic was immense, requiring her to take her mind into another plane, leaving her weak and wholly vulnerable to attack.

But the smell of blood wafting up from below was too much. The vampire closed his eyes, imagining how quick and easy the hunt would be right now. He’d only be gone a matter of moments, and if necessary he could bring his victim back here to feed – a takeaway. Besides, no one could penetrate the Shield or would dare to enter Leroth!

He nodded to himself, having made up his mind.

‘Back soon,’ he said to the sorceress, blowing her a kiss.

He turned and went out of the room, leaving her alone with the lengthening shadows.

Alexa took the elevator all the way down to the underground car park beneath her father’s building. As she stepped out of the lift doors, she looked about her to check that there was nobody around. There were closed-circuit TV cameras trained on every inch of the space, but she’d prepared a little diversion in the security guards’ office that monitored the feed, so that right now they should be more concerned with the foul-smelling black sludge rising up from the floor. She only needed them to be distracted for a minute or so.

She ran across the cold concrete floor and up the exit ramp. There was one final guard she needed to avoid, but she knew there was a good chance Harry, who sat in the small hut by the car park barrier at the top of the ramp, would be less than vigilant. Sure enough, she peered round the corner to see him with his head buried in a newspaper. She walked silently past the hut without disturbing him. Alexa allowed herself a smile; she’d slipped out in this way on a number of occasions in the past, and good old Harry had never once caught her out.

In the street above, she crossed the road, hailing down the first black taxi cab that came her way. She climbed into the back of the vehicle and sighed with relief. Her father had endorsed her mission to find and help Trey, but he’d assigned two Maug demons to go with her for protection. The last thing she wanted was a couple of great lumbering bodyguards getting in the way of what she had to do, so she’d elected to go it alone and sneak out undetected.

‘Where to, miss?’ the cabbie asked over his shoulder.

‘I’m not absolutely sure yet,’ she said. ‘If you could just head towards Tower Bridge, I’ll let you know as we go.’