I mutter a quick apology over the body of a woman in her early twenties, then chip through her skull with my finger bones and prise out bits of her brain. I eat mechanically, forcing down the food. When I’ve eaten my fill, I let myself out, lock the door behind me, and throw up in the corridor. I place the keys back where I found them, then return to Belvedere Road, moving more easily than before, but still very far from normal. If my bones and flesh don’t heal – and I’ve no reason to think they will – I’m going to be hobbling like this until the end. No more long jumping or sprinting for me.
I limp along, head low, feeling sorry for myself. As I come to one of the entrances into the main building of County Hall, I notice a small red z sprayed on a wall, the arrow beneath it pointing inwards. I stare at the arrow for a long time, then shrug, mount the steps and push open the unlocked door at the top. If this is a trap, so be it. I’m too tired to worry.
The shade of the building is a welcome relief after being out in the sun. To my surprise there are no zombies here. I thought a massive, dark area like this would be bursting with the undead, but I seem to be the only soul making use of the place.
I wind my way through a warren of corridors and rooms with unbelievably high ceilings. This is like a palace. I never knew there was so much to it. I’ve been to the aquarium and games arcade at the front of the building in the past, and the London Dungeon, of course, but had no idea that all this existed further back.
Many of the doors are shut and won’t open. If I wanted to, I might be able to force them apart or find keys if I searched, but I’m content to simply wander where I can, stepping through every door that opens to me, ignoring the rest.
After a while, I come to a room overlooking the river. I edge up next to the panels of cracked glass and gaze out at one of the best views in town. To my left lie Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Bridge. To my right is a bridge for trains, and just beyond that, Waterloo Bridge. Huge, ornate buildings line the bank on the far side of the river. The London Eye is directly ahead of me, imposing and graceful, still turning smoothly, silently, like some wind-up toy standing tall and proud among the ruins of the city.
I take off my hat and let it drop to the floor. Rubbing the back of my neck, I lean my head against the glass and make a sighing sound. I feel more alone than ever in this immense building, like I’m in a tomb.
Then, as I’m glumly considering where I should turn next, from just behind me, out of the shadows of what was an empty room when I entered, somebody coughs politely and says, ‘Good morning, Miss Smith. We’ve been expecting you.’
To be continued . . .
Darren Shan, Zom-B City
(Series: Zom-B # 3)
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends