Wisteria (Wisteria Series) (11 page)

One of them staggered toward her.

“Bach, you need to move!” She shook him and then froze as the biters shuffled past her as if she were invisible. Looking around, none of the biters seemed to notice they were there at all.
Was she infected
? No, she knew she hadn’t been bitten.

“We need to go.” His voice slurred as he got to his feet. “The infected will see you soon.” He dropped to the ground again.

Wisteria was already running away.
Crap!
She couldn’t leave him there to be killed so she hurried back and helped him up. “You’re going to have to try and walk.”

“I do not need your help, Terran,” he muttered, while weakly trying to move away from her. After taking two steps, he fell again.

Wrapping one of his arms around her shoulder, she lifted him to his feet. He was heavier than he looked. The pair hobbled through the crowded and infested street. There had to be thousands of biters. Wisteria knew with all her heart it would only be a matter of time before they were both completely devoured.

“Leave me; I can take care of myself,” he grumbled.

She realized that there was no way he was well enough to walk, let alone fight any of the biters. “I’m dead anyway, so I might as well help you,” she admitted as she noticed a dart landing beside her foot. She swung her gaze up to see the intruders firing at them. Unsure what to do next, she turned to Bach, but she also knew there was nothing he could do in his condition.

“That way.” Bach pointed to a side road. “The swarm is thinner there. Leave me and run. You might make it. I will be fine.”

Ignoring him, she moved them through the alley as fast as she could. They were out of sight from the attackers, the human ones, at least.

After a few minutes, a biter with blood-red eyes ambled toward them. This biter appeared to have picked up their scent. The biter fell when one of the bullets from the intruders struck him in the head.

“We have to move faster,” Bach whispered. “If scavengers do not kill us, these sick people will once they get your scent.”

As she struggled to keep him on his feet, a biter jumped on her. They fought it off, and she took out the screwdriver she’d taken from Bach’s kitchen and stabbed it in the eye.

The monster fell.

Moving on, they made it a few yards away from an underground parking garage, less than a mile away, when Bach fell to the ground. “We can rest in there.” He pointed. “Check it out, I will be all right, there are people in there, I know it.”

Uncertain whether to leave him, she considered his advice.

Propping him beside a skip, she jogged over to inspect the parking garage. The entrance was caged and padlocked shut, with a barbwire mess woven across. There was no way in. Checking the street, she saw Bach was right. There were less biters here and none seemed to even notice Bach as he lay on the ground. She was about to return to him when she noticed a light go on, and then off, inside the parking garage.
There were people in there.

“Help,” she whispered, since shouting would just attract the flesh eaters. “Please, we need help.” There was no answer. She hurried back to Bach and dragged him over to the corner of the gate. It was the best she could do to hide the both of them.

“You should have left me, Wisteria. This place is hell,” Bach whispered.

A black helicopter flew overhead; she pushed as far into the corner as she could. Wisteria used her body to keep him propped up and as she tried to rest his head against the wall, she noticed another dart sticking out of his shoulder and one on his arm.

She pulled them out carefully, trying not to hurt him.

He seemed not to be bothered by the pain “Do not move,” she heard him whisper.

She slowly turned her head around and found two infected women standing behind her. Their skin was gray and almost rotting off. She reached for her sword, but she didn’t have it. Looking down along the road, she saw she had dropped it when Bach fell. The biters were advancing and they looked like they hadn’t fed in months. The biters who were this hungry were almost impossible to kill without a weapon. She wasn’t sure how well her wooden spoon would hold up.

“No.” She felt tears of defeat rolling down her own cheeks as one of the biters growled at her.

“The dart,” Bach muttered.

Taking the poisonous dart, she flung it at the biter hoping there was enough poison left to cure it instantly. The biter flailed violently before flopping to the ground.

The second continued to stagger forward.

Throwing the second dart at the impending biter, she missed.

Suddenly, the second biter’s body seemed to jump and it fell to the ground. Blinking, Wisteria realized there was an arrow in its head. The link fence of the parking garage started to open, but stopped after it was a foot off the ground.

First, she helped Bach crawl through and then she dashed to grab her sword before crawling in herself.

The chains were soon shut again and they were alone for a moment.

They took cover behind an abandoned car as three more biters were downed with arrows. Looking around, she didn’t see the archer. She hid Bach in the darkness from the biters on the other side of the gate.

“Where are we?” Bach asked.

“We’re safe for now.” Amazingly, only six biters from an entire swarm noticed her—it was a miracle.

“Where?”

“Shh, they’re probably survivors, but you can’t let them know you’re sick. Save your energy, be quiet now, but when they get here, talk as much as you can.” She propped him up so he was sitting with his back against the side of the car.

“What the hell are you doing?” a man spoke.

“I couldn’t leave them there to die. Besides, no crazies got in,” a boy’s voice answered.

The two speakers partially emerged from the dark. One was a middle-aged bald man with a dark, bushy beard. The other was a skinny boy about Wisteria’s age with long, curly hair, carrying a crossbow.

“You should’ve left them to die. It would’ve been more humane,” the older man grumbled as he walked up to where she knelt next to Bach.

“You can’t show them you’re ill,” she cautioned him.

“Trust me, I will be fine.” Bach smiled weakly.

“Who are you children?” The man looked down at her. “What are you doing out in this madness?”

“We’re just trying to survive, sir.” Stepping over Bach, she sat between him and the older man. “We just need a place to rest, and then we’ll be gone.”

“To where? There’s no place to go, little girl.” The man pointed a gun in her face. “And we’re going to have to check that you’re not infected.”

Looking at the barrel of the gun, she tried to think of something to say. She knew the longer she kept talking the less they’d think she was infected. Speech was the first thing to go when infected. “The Channel Islands, there’s a haven there.”

“A safe haven?” The boy with the crossbow and arrow gasped in amazement.

“Tell me another one. There are no safe havens. Nottingham was the last and it was infested months ago.” The bearded man scoffed and pointed his gun at Bach. “Can’t he talk?”

“I can talk. Just do not point that thing in my face.” Bach shoved the barrel of the shotgun away.

“Bloody hell, an American!” The man rolled his eyes and spat on the ground. “It’s not enough that you people did this to us. You want to come here now and take our charity?”

“I am only staying a short while, and then I will be gone,” Bach answered.

“Like I told you, there’s nowhere else to go. And right now, we’ll all be lucky if the biters outside don’t try and break down the cage because that bonehead let you in.” He moved the gun back in Bach’s direction.

“Get up. We need to get you below.” The archer approached.

Wisteria tried to hide her panic. “No, we just want to rest. It was a—”

“This isn’t a holiday camp. Unless you’re sick?” Examining Bach, the man barked, “You’ve been infected, little girl?”

“My name is not little girl,” she shot back. “We are fine.”

“What about him?” The archer signaled at Bach’s head.

“I am fine.” Slowly, Bach rose.

Although, she wanted to go to him, she knew it would be a signal that he wasn’t well. During the dark days, people were killed for just having headaches. Then it occurred to Wisteria: she was in the dark days all over again.

“I have the same policy about crossbows as I do with guns.” Bach seized one of the boy’s arrows.

“Don’t,” she implored as he broke the arrow in half.

He handed the pieces back. “Thanks for your help before.”

“Why did you do that? You wasted a perfectly good arrow. We need all the weapons we can get out here,” she told him.

“I thought it was better than breaking his fingers,” Bach retorted quietly.

They came to a metal cage and behind it was another door.

Unlocking the door, the man asked, “Do you two have names?”

“Do you?” Bach replied abruptly.

“I’m Garfield and he’s Sammy,” the boy volunteered.

“I’m Wisteria.”

“And you?” Garfield asked.

“None of your business,” Bach stated.

“Okay? I’ll just call you Nun,” Garfield taunted. “This way.” He led them into a series of underground flats that stank of human waste and garbage. “Welcome to where we live. We call it the dungeon, but beggars can’t be choosers. You’ll get used to it, we all have.”

The halls were dimly lit and crowded with people. Following the archer, they made their way through the underground labyrinth. Several people were cooking on open fires in the corridors and a few children ran from room to room.

At least someone was having fun
. “How many of you live down here?” she asked.

“Forty-three,” Garfield informed her. “You and Nun will make forty-five.”

The dungeon dwellers glared as the two newcomers made their way through.

“Don’t mind them. We haven’t had a new person down her in five months. You’re going to give us all something new to talk about for a while,” Garfield said.

“So, where were you before you ended up down here?” she continued.

“Up north. I’m from Bolton. Came here for a week with the lads. That was three and a half years ago.” Taking them to a room at the end of a hall, Apartment 104, Garfield knocked once and then the door opened as Sammy appeared.

She hadn’t noticed him slip away before.

“You’re meeting Mackenzie now,” Sammy ordered.

“Who’s Mackenzie?” she wondered.

“Get in here,” a man called from inside.

They went in and saw the rundown living room of apartment 104. A woman sat in a chair, tending to a potted plant. Unlike the scraggly dungeon dwellers, the woman’s flaxen hair was tied back in a neat bun. Her skin looked fresh and smelled of soap, and she looked almost happy. Placing the plant on the uneven coffee table, she wiped her hands on her filthy apron and walked over to the two teenagers. “Welcome to our home. I’m Jessica Mackenzie.” Offering her hand, she beamed at the pair. “You can call me Mackenzie.”

“Thanks for taking us in,” Wisteria answered and noticed a diploma from Oxford University hanging on the wall.

Apparently, Mackenzie had a PhD in something and from other pictures on the wall she had run the marathon for breast cancer and received an award from the Queen.

“Wow!” Wisteria gasped.

“Images from an old life.” Sighing sadly, Mackenzie offered her hand. “So, what are your names?”

“Wisteria.” She shook the woman’s hand.

Mackenzie went to shake Bach’s hand, but he just stared at her. “Why were we brought to you?”

“You were right, Sammy. This one is a bit of an ass,” Mackenzie teased. She sat on her sofa while she fanned herself. “Garfield brought you here because I need to see who’s joined the family.”

“Family?” Bach scoffed.

Wisteria shot him a dirty look.
Here they were at these people’s mercy, and he was acting like a fool
? “Sorry, we’ve just had a stressful day.”

“You survived a horde of crazies. I can imagine that would be stressful,” Mackenzie acknowledged. “Especially since you’re only wearing a night dress and Nun here has no shoes.”

Wisteria thought of how they’d just managed to escape with their lives and stopping to get properly dressed hadn’t been an option.

“You don’t need to explain. It’s not the first time survivors have been robbed,” Mackenzie surmised. “You were both very lucky you didn’t get infected.”

“It’s a miracle,” Wisteria answered.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman offered.

“No, we just need to rest,” Bach answered.

Wisteria knew he was struggling to stay composed.

“I understand. Garfield will make sure you both get checked for bites, and then we’ll find some space for you somewhere.” The woman smiled warmly.

“We really appreciate this.” Wisteria started to leave.

“But you’ll need to surrender your knife.” Mackenzie pointed to her sword. “I’m not trying to be difficult, but we’ve had all sorts of people show up here.”