Thirteen Roses Book Five: Home: A Paranormal Zombie Saga (19 page)

He squeezed and felt the bones beneath his fingers shift and pop out of place. Now the zombie screamed, that plaintive keening that made him want to stop. He didn’t, though. The skin gave way beneath his hands and blood poured out and still he squeezed until he felt the hardness of bone. He twisted, first one way, then the other, and then he yanked as hard as he could.
 

The head came away with a tearing, cracking sound, like pulling apart a chicken carcass. He pictured gravy and roast potatoes, looked at the head, and burst out laughing. Then he rolled onto his side and vomited. His stomach lurched and heaved until it was empty.
 

He threw the head awkwardly into the darkness and lay still until his breathing returned to normal. His nostrils were clogged with the smell of sick and rot and his stomach turned, trying to find something else to expel. Footsteps came down the stairs and Tanya’s pale face appeared in the light from the lamp.
 

‘Alex, are you alright?’

‘I think so. Don’t come down here, really, don’t.’

He sat up, checking the back of his head. How he’d come out of it with only bruises he had no idea. Getting up hurt, for which he had the fall down the stairs to thank, but he could still walk. His hands were coated in blood and other stuff, lumpy and sticky, and he tried not to look at them as he clambered shakily up the steps.
 

Tanya waited at the top. She stared at his hands and went even paler. ‘Come into the kitchen.’

They blasted the water until it steamed and he shoved his hands beneath it, wincing as his skin was scalded. There wasn’t enough soap in the world to make them feel clean, but they were pink and fresh when he’d finished, and that would have to do. He collapsed on one of the chairs at the kitchen table and stared at Tanya.
 

‘We’re staying here now.’

She nodded and tried to smile as she spoke. ‘Unless you fancy trying somewhere else? There are probably some nice places just down the road. Empty, devoid of mad old men who lock children up in their basement.’

‘You know, I think we found the only house in Buckinghampshire with children locked up in the basement.’ He shook his head. ‘Let’s get the others inside.’

The storm had eased a little, but their drying clothes were soaked again by the time they reached the truck. Alex took the keys while Tanya opened the back and led the ladies out and into the house.
 

They tromped in through the back door, skirting around the trap with curious glances at him and Tanya. He shook his head. ‘We need to do some cleaning, but it can wait until tomorrow.’ He slammed the trap door and headed upstairs. Ed came with him, trying to tell him about the women he’d spent the last six hours in close confines in. Alex had enough energy left to ponder on how he’d have handled that situation. He thought he’d probably have been terrified.
 

Then he lay on the first bed he came to and passed out.
 

The light coming in through the window was pale and grey, but it was enough to drag his eyelids open. He groaned and rolled over. Ed lay beside him, hair off his face for once. The kid was pale but looked fine. Alex sat up and stared down at him.
 

What was going on in there? What sort of dreams did he have? Were they as tortured as what was going on out here? Was he ever going to tell any of them if they were? Alex climbed out of bed and tiptoed across to the window.
 

Three of the ladies were on the other bed in the room, deep in sleep and wearing the clothes they’d had on yesterday. He wasn’t the only one who’d been exhausted. He leant on the windowsill and looked out. Rolling fields ran from the house, interrupted here and there by small copses of trees. He could make out houses down in the valley, but they were a long way away.
 

He stared at the fields and the green until tears filled his eyes, and he squeezed them closed.
 

They’d survived.
 

He didn’t feel safe. He wasn’t safe, none of them were, but there was something here that made it all feel very different. He nodded and stepped away from the window.
 

The stairs creaked. He hadn’t noticed that last night. Five of the ladies were in the kitchen, leaning against things or sat on the chairs. He said good morning and one of them made him a cup of tea. He’d need to start learning names, though right now he wanted to be alone.

He took his tea and stepped out of the back door. The clouds scudded across the sky, greys and whites vying for dominance. The storm had cleared everything and left the air crisp and cool. He drank it in with his tea, taking long deep breaths and wondering how he’d stayed in the city as long as he had. He’d grown up near Brighton in a tiny town nestled among the hills and every day had been like this.
 

Somehow he’d decided he hated it and gone running to London. Now he couldn’t imagine hating it. He couldn’t
 
imagine a life without the peace. And it was peaceful. He could hear bird song and the wind through the trees, and not one bit of traffic, not one sound made by man.
 

‘Should you be out here?’

He jumped. Tanya smiled at him and sat on the low stone wall that bordered the garden. It meant she couldn’t see the view, but her eyes were fixed on him. ‘Sleep well?’

He nodded. ‘Not enough. Not yet. It’s lovely here.’ It sounded inane and pointless, but she smiled again and nodded back. ‘Yeah, it is. Glad we’re out of the city.’

He grinned and looked past her down the valley. He pulled his phone from his pocket and pushed the button. He had five percent left and no messages. Where were they? He assumed Krystal was alive, or they’d have told him, but that was scant comfort. They needed to get here because whatever food was in the house was going to run out soon and he didn’t fancy ever leaving here again.
 

He put his phone back in his pocket. He’d charge it when he went back in. The wind blew gentle against his face as he stared out at the view.
 

Dave

How could there be a war? There was no one to fight against. He wanted to ask Az but the demon was already flapping away over the skyline, a huge red silhouette against the lightening sky. The sun was hidden by the clouds but after the storm the weather felt positively lovely. The steady drizzle stole the rest of the sleep from him and left him refreshed as he clambered back down the ladder.
 

The babies would be awake soon, awake and hungry. He crept back into the box and stopped dead. The babies were gone. In their place lay two teenaged boys, maybe thirteen or fourteen. They were still covered in red fur, but their nakedness revealed that everything else about them was quite human. That was until one rolled over and Dave saw the beginnings of wings sprouting from his back.
 

His children were growing so fast. He’d known, somehow, that they would. There wasn’t time in the new world for children to be babies. There was no room for vulnerability, especially not for children like his, children others wouldn’t understand. He was pleased. They needed to be strong.
 

He settled into one of the chairs and waited for them to wake. His mind played games with Az’s final statement, searching for meaning. What war? It could only be a war with the zombies. Is that why he was creating these children, to fight the zombies? It went against everything Dave understood of demons. They were evil, complete evil, so surely Az loved the zombies.
 

He said the soldiers were pissing him off. What had they done to piss him off? He was a demon, what could anyone do? The nearest of his children woke and sat in one smooth motion. It stared at him with black, piercing eyes and Dave bit his lip.
 

‘Hungry.’

‘I know, I know. Once your brother awakes I’ll take you somewhere to g—’

His son leant over and thumped his brother in the side of the head. He woke, sat straight up, and responded with a fist to the face. In seconds the two boys were tumbling around the box, laying punches in all over the place.
 

‘Enough, ENOUGH.’ Alex rose to his feet, shaking his fist, and the boys split apart, staring at him with wide eyes. He nodded and tried to mollify his harshness with a smile. They responded by hanging their heads and coming closer. He found himself grabbing each by the scruff of the neck and ruffling them like they were dogs.
 

‘We’re going to get food.’

Their heads jerked up and they almost climbed into his lap. He chuckled and led them out of the box. They marched through the theatre, the boys either side of him. They were walking upright, but every now and then one would drop to all fours and scramble along for a few feet before straightening again.
 

They reached the foyer. A zombie stood in the centre, staring aimlessly around. Dave felt the mist come down but held himself back as his boys rushed forwards. They threw themselves at the zombie before it had time to attack them and tore it apart. Neither showed any signs of eating and Dave sighed. He didn’t want to go to St Paul’s.
 

They stepped into the street and Dave rolled his shoulders and smiled. It was like having your own security detail. He didn’t want to take his time getting there, but the temptation to stroll down the middle of the street was huge. Let the zombies come. Hell, let the soldiers come as well, let them all come. Between him and his boys, the streets weren’t safe for anyone else.
 

His broad grin preceded their progress, but he struggled to find understanding. He didn’t know why he felt happy, or even what it meant beyond the fuzziness in his head and the butterflies in his stomach. He wasn’t sure it mattered, though, not right now.
 

The zombies came. In ones and twos they came, and were torn apart. He let the haze come down, and joined with his children, rending the zombies with his bare hands. There was danger, of course there was, but it never felt close, not like it had the last week. They were invincible now. They were the wind, cutting through the zombies like they were autumn leaves on long dead trees.
 

Something clicked in his mind, just like before, but nothing followed it. He shrugged it off. Another memory maybe, breaking free and sinking into the morass that lay beneath his new found fatherhood. That was all that mattered now.
 

Their progress was slow and he felt their hunger like it was his own. He stopped beside a car, checked for the keys, then jumped in. The boys piled in, fighting for the front seat until he barked at them to calm down. They pulled away and weaved through the traffic until St Paul’s appeared beneath the clouds, looming and sombre.
 

He sat, gripping the steering wheel. There were more clicks, images trying to claw their way through, but he squashed them down. He knew without seeing them they were things of which he didn’t want to be reminded. This place was wrong and sat in his stomach like bad food. He took a breath and opened the door.
 

The boys shoved past him and bounded towards the huge steps that climbed to the entrance of St Paul’s.
 

‘STOP. Both of you, come back here.’

They paused, still staring ahead, and he thought they were going to ignore him. But they turned and came slinking back. He nodded to them. ‘Good, well done. The men in here have guns. They are very dangerous. They aren’t like the zombies. We must go in quietly and wait until the right time to strike. Do you understand?’

They both nodded and he led the way up the steps until they stood to one side of the entrance. There was no sign of any soldiers. He remembered enough to know the men in grey and white were bad, but the details escaped him. Dave peered around the door frame.
 

The cathedral was quiet and dark. A vast dome of white material shimmered darkly in the centre. There were no soldiers, or anyone else for that matter, so they crept into the shadows then made their slow way down the massive space, the boys sniffing as they went.
 

They almost walked straight into the soldier. He was standing stock still and his grey fatigues blended into the wall. Dave grabbed the boys by the arms and dragged them back into the darkness, then put his finger to his lips.
 

They nodded and he relaxed and watched the man. How could they sneak up without alerting him and the others? He had a gun and Dave couldn’t think about what would happen if he was given time to use it. He glanced at the boys but they were gone. He opened his mouth to call them back, but before he could get a word out, they appeared from the shadows and launched themselves at the soldier.
 

He had no time to do anything, let alone trigger an alarm. In a matter of moments his throat was torn out by eager teeth and the hand that had rested on his gun was shattered in powerful jaws. Dave put his own hand over his mouth and backed away.
 

He’d seen this too often in the last week, but these were his children and they needed to eat. Besides, this man was partly responsible for the mass genocide of every person on Earth, so his sympathy only went so far. His stomach lurched and he turned away. There was one less person on Earth now, one from only a couple of thousand.
 

He had to focus on his children. They were what mattered. Sounds rose up to fill the cathedral, of lips being smacked and blood being lapped. Dave walked away from the feast, pressing his lips together and taking deep breaths.
 

It was beautiful in here, peaceful and zombie-free. He could understand why the soldiers hadn’t emerged to attack him or the others. Unless they had. There was every chance the hospital was the site of another massacre and he didn’t know. The ladies had driven him out and he still couldn’t blame them. He hadn’t thought about them in days, but now missing them felt like a knife in the heart.
 

He was alone. He had his kids of course, but from them he would always be aloof. It was how it had to be with kids, especially ones like his. They would be trouble. He would love them, and get their love in return, but he was still alone.