“Sorry,” I croak, stepping away from her. “I don’t fancy being eaten.”
Mrs. Reed looks disappointed, but she shrugs and sits down. Dabs at the bits of brain stuck to her chin and sucks them from her finger.
I’m backing away from the zombie principal when I stop. This isn’t right. She’s not like any of the others we’ve encountered. And it’s not just the fact that she can talk and doesn’t have bones sticking out of her fingers. There are no bite marks or scratches. I can’t see where she was wounded.
I want to study her properly–this seems important–but Trev interrupts.
“We have to get out of here.”
“But this is weird,” I argue. “She’s different. I want to know why.”
Trev shrugs. “Then stay and have a chat with her. Me, I’m heading for the front of the building, to get the hell out. They might have barred the doors but they can’t have blocked all the windows. There wasn’t enough time.”
“He’s right,” Seez says. “The windows are our best hope.”
“You don’t have any hope,” someone snickers behind us.
I whirl and spot three people in hoodies. They’re spread across the corridor, grinning viciously. I’m almost certain that the one in the middle is the louse who tried to steal the baby in the museum. Then he points at me and says, “You should have let me take the boy,” and my suspicions are confirmed.
“Who are you?” I yell. “Why are you doing this?”
“Don’t worry,” the mutant chuckles, his voice gravelly and gurgly, nothing like a normal person’s. “You’re in good company. This is happening all over London. This will be a city of zombies by the time the sun sets. And it won’t be the only one. From tomorrow, this world is ours.”
As we stare at the mutant with the crazy skin and yellow eyes, horrified by his prediction, he puts his whistle to his lips and blows. The others blow their whistles too. Three long, sharp toots. They’re so piercing, I have to cover my ears with my hands. Then the mutants drop the whistles and smirk. Lowering my hands, I fix on the sound of a flurry of feet stomping down the corridor, dozens of zombies responding to the call of the mutants, closing in on us.
TWENTY-THREE
No time to think. We run from the mob of zombies, tear along the corridor, knowing we don’t have much time.
As we pass an open door to a classroom, Linzer ducks inside. “I’m hiding!” she screams, slamming the door shut on the rest of us.
Meths starts to slow but Stagger Lee bellows at him, “Leave her!”
We press on. My heart’s hammering. I’m finding it hard to breathe. I was never the fittest—too many helpings of fries and not enough exercise. I start to drift towards the rear of the group. We turn a corner, then another. I’ve lost track of where we are. The zombies are drawing closer. The mutants in hoodies must be with them because I hear an occasional whistle.
I’m rushing past a window when I catch a glimpse of open space. I stop and yell to the others, “We’re next to a courtyard. I’m jumping.”
“We don’t know what’s down there,” Trev roars. “It could be full of zombies.”
I grin ghoulishly. “Only one way to find out.” I back up from the window, then hurl myself at the glass, covering my face with my arms. There’s a good chance I’ll slice open a vein or artery, but I’d rather bleed to death than be devoured by the living dead.
I smash through the window and whoop insanely, half-terrified, half-buzzing. My arms snap open and flap wildly. A brief glimpse of the ground coming fast towards me. Then I land in an untidy heap and roll awkwardly. The air’s knocked out of me. Shards of glass nick my hands and knees. But I’m alive. I’m not badly injured. And the courtyard’s empty.
“Come on!” I shout at the others.
Seez follows first, bursting through another pane of glass. There’s a wide hole now and the rest can jump cleanly. They pile after us, landing hard, picking themselves up, a few cuts and bruises but no broken ankles or severed arteries.
Suze and Ballydefeck are last. Suze stares at the drop with terror. She’s crying.
“Hurry up,” Ballydefeck says, grabbing her.
She shakes him off. “I can’t. I’m afraid of heights.”
“It’s not that bloody high!”
“I–”
A scream from a window on the other side of the courtyard stops her. We all look. Linzer is pressed against the glass, her face contorted. Zombies are bunched around her. They yank her out of sight. Looks like Cass might have been right about them having a keen nose for the living.
“Get down and drop, then,” Ballydefeck barks, getting to his knees and backing out, holding on to the sill.
“All right,” Suze moans, shutting her eyes. “But I can’t look. You tell me where I have to–”
There’s a blur of motion. A zombie tackles Suze and she’s gone before she can scream. Ballydefeck yelps and lets go. But hands snake out and grab his arms. He’s hauled back into the room, roaring and cursing.
Several zombies lean out through the shattered windows, and I’m sure they’re going to jump in and finish us off. But the sunlight unnerves them. They wince, cover their eyes and back away into the gloom. Before hungrier or braver zombies can take their place, we find the nearest door and race back inside, stumbling slightly, feet stinging from the jump, but delighted to be alive, all too aware that we could have very easily gone the same way as Linzer, Suze and Ballydefeck.
TWENTY-FOUR
Nine of us left. Me, Trev, Meths, Elephant, Stagger Lee, Tyler, Seez, the other Muslim boy and the Indian. As we run, twisting through corridors, I try to remember how many of us there were to begin with, but I can’t. I’ve already forgotten the names and faces of the dead. I’m sure, if I sat down for five minutes, I’d be able to recall them. But right now they’re vaguely remembered ghosts.
Sounds behind us again. The zombies must have overcome their fear of the light. The chase has resumed.
“Hold on,” Trev pants, coming to a stop. “Where are we? I don’t know if we’re heading back towards the gym or close to the front.”
We gaze around. There are classrooms on both sides but I don’t recognize them. All of the corridors have started to look the same. I’m as lost as Trev. By the blank stares of the others, I know that they are too.
Tyler coughs shyly and points. “The front’s that way.”
“You’re sure?” Trev asks.
“Yeah,” he says with a small smile. “I’m good at directions, me.”
“Then let’s go.”
We head the way Tyler pointed. He’d better be right. If he’s not, I’ll kill him before the zombies can.
We turn a corner and I run into a boy my own size. We collide, bounce off each other and fall. Sitting up and rubbing my head, I realize it’s Pox and I burst into a smile.
“Pox! I thought you were…”
I stop. Pox is staring at me with a hungry look. I remember that the last time I saw him, he was dining on Dunglop’s brain. My eyes flash to the fingers of his left hand and I see a light green moss running along the bite marks. Bones jut nastily from the ruined tips of his fingers.
Rick’s just behind Pox. He’s limping, dragging one leg. His foot’s missing. Pox or another zombie must have chewed it off before he turned. But there’s not much blood.
Pox scuttles after me. Dunglop’s brain obviously wasn’t enough to satisfy his appetite. Like Meths, poor old Dunglop never was the brightest of sparks, so he must have made for no more than a snack.
I kick at Pox’s face, driving him back. As I try to scramble to my feet, Meths wades in and kicks Pox harder. Rick hops towards Meths, arms wide, fingers flexed like a cat’s claws. Meths slips. Rick ducks in for the kill–
–then there’s an unnatural roar and the zombie flies backwards, stomach ripped to shreds, blood spattering the wall and floor behind him.
Pox gets up and snarls. Goes for me again. There’s another roar and his head explodes. Somebody
’s firing bullets. Someone has a gun.
Bloody yes, mate!
“His head!” I roar as Rick hobbles forward, guts spilling down his legs. “Shoot him in the head! That’s the only way to stop them!”
The gun fires again and Rick’s temple cracks open. He drops in a lifeless heap.
I turn to face the gunman. The others have all turned too, jaws slack, hardly able to believe that this is real. I’m hoping for a squadron of soldiers but it’s just a normal-looking guy with a rifle. He hasn’t lowered it and is staring grimly down the barrel at me.
“Were you bitten?” he growls.
“No!” I scream.
“Don’t lie. I saw it attack you. Stand back!” he barks at the others.
I gape at the man with the gun. This is so unfair. To survive the zombies, only to be finished off by an idiot who won’t listen. I’d love to knock some sense into his thick head. But it doesn’t look like I’ll have a chance, because he’s aiming at the middle of my face. Any second now he’s gonna–
“Stop!” another man roars. “Don’t shoot! That’s my daughter!”
“But I saw–” the man with the rifle begins.
The rest of what he says is lost to me. Because suddenly Dad is there, pushing past the idiot with the gun, spreading his arms wide, stooping to hug me.
“Dad!” I cry with a rush of relief.
“Becky!” he moans, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me tight. “My girl! My girl!”
Then he’s kissing me and hugging me, and I don’t care how many zombies or idiots with trigger-happy fingers there are. They can’t hurt me. They don’t matter anymore. Dad loves me. He risked his life to find me. Everything will be all right now. Dad will save me. He’ll save us all. He’s a bloody hero!
TWENTY-FIVE
“Todd,” the man with the gun says, interrupting our hug fest. Dad looks up, happy tears sparkling in his eyes, grinning like a loon. “Our kids aren’t here. We have to push on.”
Dad’s grin fades. He pats my head, then stands. The two men shake hands. There are a couple of women behind the guy with the gun, one white, one Chinese. Dad smiles sadly at the white woman but only scowls at the other one.
“You’re sure you want to continue?” Dad asks Gun Guy.
“I have to.” He turns to the rest of us. “Any of you know Jimmy Wilkins?” Most of us nod. “Have you seen him?” We shake our heads.
“What about Lindsay Hogan?” the white woman asks.
Linzer.
“The zombies got her,” I mutter.
The woman’s face hardens. “No!” she snaps. “You’re wrong.”
“We saw them grab her.”
“Where?” she screams.
I turn and point. The woman starts running. “It was on the top floor,” I shout. “You’re too late. She’s dead.”
But the woman isn’t listening. She’s gone.
The Chinese woman asks us if we’ve seen her son and daughter, but we don’t know either of them. She heads off with Gun Guy, the pair advancing swiftly, checking each room as they pass.
“It’s madness,” I whisper to Dad. “They’re gonna get killed.”
“I know, love,” he says. “But that’s what parents do for their kids. I knew I’d probably get eaten when I came looking for you, but did that stop me? Hell no.”
I beam at him, so proud. He looks around, smiles at my friends, sniffs at the Muslims, the Indian and Tyler. “Come on,” he says. “I’m getting you out of here.”
We follow Dad back the way he came. He’s moving quickly but he isn’t racing. “Slow down,” he says as Trev tries to force the pace.
“But the zombies…” Trev gasps.
“You think I don’t know about them?” Dad snorts.
“We have to get out,” Trev insists.
“That’s what we’re doing,” Dad says calmly. “But if we go flapping around like headless chickens, we’ll run into trouble, the way you lot did before I found you. These zombies aren’t so tough if you’re prepared for them. I’ve finished off a few of them already.” He shakes a metal bar at us—it’s red with blood. “But you have to go about it the right way, keep your head, make sure you have the time and space to spot them coming.”
He takes a left turn and we pass the staff room. The door’s open. I spot a couple of teachers inside, chewing on the remains of some of their colleagues.
“They won’t be failing you again,” Dad says and we both laugh.
“Straight F’s in most courses,” I chuckle. “But A-plus in zombie survival!”
“Been a long time since I was a student here,” Dad mutters nostalgically. “But I remember the place like it was yesterday. Didn’t have any trouble finding my way around.”
“How’d you get over here so quickly?” I ask. It feels like we’ve been running for hours since the gym, but it can’t have been more than fifteen or twenty minutes.
“I was working nearby,” Dad says. “When I heard about the attacks on the radio, I ran like the wind. I tried calling ahead to check if things were all right but the phones aren’t working.”
“Then it’s true?” Elephant asks. “This is happening in other places too?”
“Yeah,” Dad says. “Schools, hospitals, shops, factories, all sorts and all over the place. Getting out of here won’t be the end of it. London’s in an uproar. But the zombies tend to keep to the shadows. If we stick to the main streets and roads, we should be all right. At least until night.”
“What about Mum?” I ask, able to think about her now that I have someone else to watch out for me.
“We’ll swing by home, see if she’s there,” Dad says.
“Can’t we call and get her to–”
“Weren’t you listening?” he snaps. “The phones are dead. Cells, landlines, the lot. TV stations are down too. A lot of radio stations as well, but a guy I work with has a top-of-the-range radio that picks up all sorts of frequencies. That’s how I know it’s widespread. It started about…” He checks his watch. “Not quite an hour ago. But I didn’t hear about it immediately. As soon as I did, I came.” He flashes me a shaky smile. “You didn’t think I’d leave you to be gobbled by zombies, did you?”
I want to burst into tears and hug him again, but there’s no time. We have to keep moving. We’ll be relatively safe in the sunlight once we get out of here. We can hug all we want then.
We move steadily through the school, drawing closer to the front of the building. For the first time since the gym I really allow myself to hope. I don’t want to tempt fate but I think we’ve made it.
We come to a corridor that’s only a few turns from the main exit. Everyone’s excited. We can virtually smell freedom. There’s a fire door ahead of us. Once we push through that, the corridor branches. The right turn leads back into the school. The left will lead us all the way home.
Dad shoves the door. It rattles but doesn’t open. He frowns and pushes it again. No joy. “That’s not right,” he says. “I came through here on my way in.”
The Indian kid slides up to the crack in the door and peers through. “It’s been locked,” he moans. “There’s a chain.”
“What?” Dad shouts, shoving him aside and squinting through the crack. “Who the hell did that?”
“The mutants,” I sigh. As if in answer, I hear a whistle blow somewhere close behind us. “Dad! They’re coming!”
Dad stares at me. He starts to ask how I know we’re in trouble, then shakes his head and slams the door with his shoulder. “Keep back,” he grunts at those around him. “It’ll take more than a chain to hold me here.”
We stare at Dad as he rams the door again and again. It’s a thick, heavy door, designed to slow the spread of flames in case of a fire. The chain is sturdy too. Dad doesn’t look to be achieving much but he keeps going, sweating like a marathon runner, totally focused.
I glance back down the corridor and spot four zombies slipping into it. They lock sights on us and slither forward.
“Dad!” I wail.
“I nearly have it,” he pants.
Trev throws himself at the door, trying to help. Meths and Seez take turns too. Dad glares at them, but then there’s a snapping sound and the door starts to give. “That’s the way, boys!” Dad whoops. “Give it everything you have.”
They hurl themselves at the door, one after the other. Their arms and shoulders will be black and blue later but they don’t care. No matter how much of a battering they take, they don’t back down.
Elephant, Stagger Lee, the Indian and the other Muslim kid watch helplessly as Dad and the three boys fly at the door like rabid dogs. I’m a bit farther back, Tyler by my side. I’m looking for anything I can use to fend off the zombies but I’m not having much luck. They’re closing in. They could have rushed us by now, but they see that we’re trapped, so they’re taking their time.
“Dad!” I yell.
“Just another few blows,” he wheezes, launching himself at the door again.
More zombies appear at the far end of the corridor, loads of them, a couple of whistle-blowing mutants in the middle, guiding them towards us.
“Dad!”
Dad looks back and whitens. “Holy hell,” he croaks.
Meths bangs into the door and it cracks. The hinges give. Meths cheers and starts shaking the door. Dad and Seez join him. There isn’t room for Trev—he’s been pushed out of the way.
“They’re almost on us,” I shout.
Dad looks at me, then at the zombies, and curses. “You’ve got to stall them. We only need a few more seconds.”
“How?” I scream. “There’s nothing I can do to–”
“Throw them the black kid!” Dad roars.
I stare at him. Tyler stares too, both of us stunned, momentarily forgetting about the zombies.
“Do it!” Dad shouts.
“But he’s Tyler,” I whisper. “He’s one of us. He helped us get–”
“Throw them the bloody chimney sweep or I’ll whip you raw!” Dad screams.
And suddenly I’m reacting, doing what he tells me, the way I always do when he loses his temper, because it’s easier to obey him than stand up to him. Years of conditioning kick in. Fear takes over. I go into my dutiful-daughter act. The racist in me swims to the fore and rejoices at being set free.