ZOM-B 11 (12 page)

I shift uncomfortably. I want to argue the point with him, but how can I when just a few hours ago I was plotting to unleash a virus that would wipe out every zombie on the planet? Barnes cut
down dozens or hundreds of reviveds in his time. If I’d been successful, I’d have eliminated billions.

‘Get the damn brains,’ I huff.

Barnes grins and fetches me a slice of chilled headcheese. It’s not the most appealing chunk of brain I’ve ever been faced with – a light mould has spread across it since it defrosted – but it hasn’t totally dried out, so it should still provide me with the nutrients I
need. As I take it from him, he settles back and his grin spreads. ‘I can’t wait to see this.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I snap.

‘I want to see how a stomachless zombie eats.’

I stare at Barnes, then at the hole in my middle. ‘Hell, I hadn’t thought about that.’

‘You haven’t eaten in a while?’ he asks.

‘Not since most of my stomach was ripped away.’ I think about it, then take an explorative bite. I work it down my throat, but once it clears my chest, the chunk simply drops into
the pit where my bowels used to be.

‘Plop!’ Barnes deadpans.

‘I’m glad you’re enjoying this so much,’ I scowl. ‘If I can’t eat, I can’t extract the nutrients that I need to keep my brain ticking over. I’ll
relapse and become a revived again.’

‘There’s no fear of that,’ Barnes says. ‘I’ve seen zombies in worse shape than you chowing down and getting whatever it is that they need from the brains. Go with your instincts and see where they lead you.’

I stare at the chunk of brain in my hand and try to tune out my thoughts, to focus on the food and let my natural reactions take over. It’s easier than I thought it would be, and a minute
later I find myself mashing the brain up in my mouth, working it into a paste. Then I spit the paste into my hands and scrape it around the walls of my stomach, covering as much of the cavity as I
can with the grisly goo.

‘Fascinating,’ Barnes purrs.

‘You don’t have to gawp,’ I growl. ‘I know how disgusting this is.’

‘No,’ he says. ‘This is better than prime-time TV. Is it doing the job? Do you think you’ll be able to sustain yourself?’

‘Yeah. I can already feel myself absorbing the richness of the meat. I’ll scrape off the gunk soon, so as not to attract insects, but it’s pretty much the same as when I
ate before. Except now I don’t have to puke the brains back up, so in a way it’s even better.’

‘You’ll set a trend,’ Barnes laughs and tucks into his own food, which looks a hell of a lot more appetising than mine.

Barnes carefully washes his plate when he’s finished and throws the remains of my mashed-up meal into the Thames, so that the scent doesn’t attract any passing zombies. I join
him on the balcony and stare out across the river. Night has settled over the city and I can hear the moans and cries of its undead population as the reviveds take to the streets in search of
the ever-diminishing supplies of grey matter.

Brains must be hard to come by now. The vast majority of zombies are surely in agony. I think the noise will worsen over the coming months, until maybe it’s one solid,
twenty-four-hour-long scream, every single day of the week for the next few thousand years.

‘I don’t know why they stay,’ Barnes says quietly. ‘Surely they’d be better off in the countryside, where they might find the odd wild animal to feast
on.’

‘There are still lots of animals here,’ I tell him. ‘We can smell their brains. But they’re fast, and they hide, and they’re able to adapt. The reviveds are slower
to change. Maybe they never properly will. But as long as the scent of brains lingers, zombies will prowl the streets. They don’t have the sense to move on.’

‘It’s a hell of a world,’ Barnes says bitterly, then heads back inside. I stay on the balcony a few minutes longer, listening to the howls of my brethren, wishing I could
cry or, failing that, cast aside my consciousness and join them. But since I can’t and won’t, I turn my back on the tortured shrieks of the city’s damned souls and follow
Barnes into the pub, where we can shut the door on the night and act for a while as if all is as it was when the world was the domain of the living.

‘So tell me about Dr Oystein,’ Barnes says.

‘You mean Dr Dowling,’ I correct him.

When Barnes raises an eyebrow, I explain about the folders, how Dr Oystein’s surname is Dowling, how the doc confirmed that he’s Mr Dowling’s brother, that he was the main
figure behind the release of the zombie virus.

I don’t think Barnes is often left speechless, but he can’t say anything for a long time after I finish. He stares at me as if I have two heads. That doesn’t surprise me.
I find it as bizarre as he does.

‘I don’t understand,’ he finally mumbles. ‘Oystein has saved so many people. All of his time is dedicated to trying to eradicate the undead and hand control back to the
living.’

‘That’s what he says,’ I snort. ‘But I think it’s a sham. He’s been looking to get his hands on Schlesinger-10. We thought –’

‘What’s Schlesinger-10?’ Barnes interrupts.

‘A virus he concocted. It can wipe out every living person, leaving the zombies free to rule the world alone. Owl Man stole it from him before he could put it to use, and gave it to Mr
Dowling.’

‘Hold on,’ Barnes stops me. ‘I’m getting confused. Owl Man and Mr Dowling are the villains here, aren’t they?’

‘Well, they’re definitely not the heroes,’ I laugh, then shake my head. ‘It’s complicated. Mr Dowling loves chaos, so he wants to keep things as they are, the
undead pitted against the living, him in the middle, relishing the bloodshed. He’s not good or bad as we see it, just totally bonkers. But at least he wasn’t planning to wipe out
humanity. That much we know for sure, since he could have uncorked his vial of Schlesinger-10 at any time.’

‘OK,’ Barnes nods. ‘Not an ally, but not a direct foe either.’

‘Oh, he’s definitely a foe,’ I disagree. ‘Just not a foe who wants to kill all of the living.’

‘What about Owl Man?’ Barnes asks.

I purse my lips. ‘He’s more difficult to pin down. I’ve no idea what his motives are. He was involved in the spread of the zombie virus – his name was all over the files
– but at the same time he didn’t release the sample of Schlesinger-10 when it was in his possession, so I guess he’s not trying to annihilate every living human
either.’

Barnes frowns. ‘So you’re saying Oystein is the only one who wants to use this virus to kill us all?’

‘It looks that way,’ I shrug.

‘Then why didn’t he simply recreate it after the first batch had been stolen?’ Barnes asks.

I make a small humming noise as I think about that. ‘Maybe he couldn’t. Mr Dowling was his partner before they fell out with one another, and Owl Man was their assistant. Maybe one of those two was instrumental in figuring out the formula, and the doc couldn’t replicate it without their help. He was able to make Clements-13, but
that was no good to him.’

‘Clements-13?’ Barnes echoes.

I tell him about the other virus, the one that can put the undead back in their coffins where they belong.

‘Dr Oystein told us it was a stand-off. He said that if he released Clements-13, killing all the zombies, Mr Dowling would release his sample of Schlesinger-10, dooming all of the humans
in return. Now, based on everything I learnt today, I guess it must have been the other way round, that Dr Oystein was the one who wanted to unleash Schlesinger-10 and eradicate humanity.
That’s why he was so eager to retrieve Mr Dowling’s sample, not to neutralise it, but to use it.’

I feel a lump in my throat as I give words to my thoughts. It hurts me, condemning Dr Oystein out loud like this, but it’s the truth, so how can I turn away from it?
I’ve been fighting a war against evil ever since I linked up with the Angels, but all this time the enemy has been in our midst, trying to trick us into helping him get his hands on the ultimate weapon.

‘What about this Clements-13 you mentioned?’ Barnes asks, distracting me from my melancholy. ‘Does Owl Man or the clown have that too?’

I scratch one of my metallic ears thoughtfully, finding it hard to focus. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think they’d be bothered about it. I mean, even if Dr Oystein released
Schlesinger-10, they wouldn’t use Clements-13 against him, because it would kill them too.’

‘So nobody’s going to use the Clements-13 virus?’ Barnes presses.

‘I doubt it. Maybe the doc doesn’t even have a sample any more. Hell, maybe he never developed it in the first place. That might have been a bluff, to make us believe that he was on
the side of the living.’

Barnes thinks about that for a long time. I leave him to it. My head is hurting. I wasn’t made for mental acrobatics of this kind.

‘Of course, this is all pure conjecture,’ he finally says, not content to let it lie. ‘Any chance the doc might have been framed, or that you misunderstood him, that he really
does want to help the living?’

‘Possibly,’ I sniff. ‘Bloody unlikely, I’d say, but I didn’t hear him out. I didn’t dare. I was afraid he might convert me if I gave him a chance.’

‘Wise girl,’ Barnes chuckles, then pulls a confused face. ‘This is messed up. I’ve dealt with double-crosses and intrigue for most of my life, but nothing on this
scale.’

‘It’s simpler than it seems,’ I tell him. ‘Schlesinger-10 is the key. Dr Oystein used the zombie gene to bring the world to its knees. Now he’s looking to get hold
of the thing he needs to crush the last of the living completely.’

‘Unless you’ve got the wrong end of the stick,’ Barnes says.

‘Unless I’ve got the wrong end of the stick,’ I admit.

‘But where do
you
come into the equation?’ Barnes asks. ‘Why does the doc want you so badly? It can’t be just because you know about his true role in this. He would have told his Angels to kill you if that was the case. But he gave them orders to bring you back alive.’

I start to tell Barnes about my marriage to Mr Dowling, but before I get to the part where I pinpointed the location of the vial of Schlesinger-10 and smuggled it out in the lining of my
stomach, I have a nasty thought and I pause.

What if Barnes is here on Dr Oystein
’s business?

I’m pretty sure he’s on the level. I think he really did help me because he likes me. But I’ve been taken for a ride by an apparent Good Samaritan before. Maybe it’s a
trick. Maybe Dr Oystein told him to stage a betrayal, to con me into trusting him, so that I’d tell him what I did with the stolen vial — and I’m sure the doc knows that I did
steal it, because that’s the only reason why Mr Dowling would have invaded County Hall. This could be part of a cunning plan.

‘B?’ Barnes asks when I fall silent.

I stare at the ex-soldier, wanting to trust him, but wary after what happened with the last person I had faith in. Should I take him into my confidence or keep him at arm’s length?

‘You know what?’ I mutter in the end. ‘All this talking has made me hungry. I didn’t realise how famished I was. Could I have more brains, please?’

Barnes’s eyes narrow. He can tell I’m suspicious. For a dangerous moment I think he’s going to attack me. But then he smiles and says, ‘What the hell. I might have a few
more biscuits myself while we’re at it. We deserve a treat after what we’ve been through.’

He goes to fetch us some grub, leaving me to gaze at the back of his head and wonder miserably — friend or foe? Have I found sanctuary here or walked into a trap of Dr Oystein’s
making?

I don’t need the extra helping of brains, but go through the motions, still mulling things over, trying to work out my next move. Whatever I decide, it will pay to keep Barnes sweet. As a
zombie, I can’t sleep. If I get the sense that something’s rotten, all I have to do is play along, wait for him to nod off, then slip away while he’s snoozing.

Barnes brews a mug of coffee and sips from it after finishing his biscuits. He’s obviously not a dunker.

‘The offer still stands, you know,’ he murmurs over the rim of his mug.

‘What offer?’ I ask.

‘You can leave any time.’ He nods towards the back door. ‘The boat’s yours if you want it. You can sail off down the river by yourself, go wherever your path leads you. I
won’t try to stop you. You’re not beholden to me.’

‘I wouldn’t get very far on my own,’ I mutter.

‘Bullshit,’ Barnes snorts. ‘You’d get further than just about anyone else I know, even though half of you has been snipped away. I’ll give you all the brains that
are stored here, and you have the syringes you took from Oystein to help top up your energy levels.’

‘How do you know about those?’ I snap.

‘The doc told us. The twins had said you were dead on your feet — no pun intended. Oystein informed us that that was no longer the case. Warned us to be cautious.’

I chew at my lower lip, studying Barnes’s face for the least hint of a lie. He must see the worry in my gaze because he smiles lazily and extends his hands.

‘Tie me up if you want. Then make your getaway.’