Undead (9780545473460) (14 page)

We tramp down the lane in silence, Smitty and Pete sliding Alice on Smitty's board this time, me feeling like a packhorse with all of our bags. The trees block out the sky in places. I feel like we're trespassing, and that any minute now something is going to jump out of the darkness.

It doesn't.

Every one of us keeps stealing a glance behind, hoping not to see we're being followed. After a couple of times, it becomes a joke — let's see who can hold out the longest without checking. But fate is kind, and it seems like we might have given them the slip. The adrenaline of the chase has gone now. I'm cold and exhausted.

Finally the lane bends sharply, revealing a black mass against a glittering background. A castle and a frozen loch.

And there's a light on.

“There's a light,” sings Smitty, “over at the Frankenstein place . . .”

We're standing at the castle gates. Most of us are standing, anyway. Alice has collapsed onto her knees, and we're too tired to pick her up. Smitty is the only one left with any energy: Manic, with a side of Musical Theater. He has been singing all the way down the lane since we spied the castle; at first it was kind of funny and creepy, now it's just plain annoying. The wind is picking up and my un-gloved fingers are threatening to drop off. The straps of all the bags are cutting through my shoulders like the thinnest of ribbons. I clamp my hands under my armpits and look up at what has stopped us.

The gates are high, with a heap of heavy chain wrapped around them like a snake, and a big ol' padlock. Whoever is in the castle is not at home for visitors. The light that led us here is from a ground-floor window next to a huge, dark doorway that I can barely see. One light on, and one only.

I look around for some kind of entry phone on the gates, but this is Scotland, not Beverly Hills. At the risk of losing my skin, I shake the gates of freezing metal, but they barely move. They're made of elaborate wrought iron with no easy foot- or handholds, and are attached to an equally high brick wall, which Smitty has already tried to bounce over, Tigger-stylee.

“Do you think we can get in around the back?” I ask.

“Wouldn't that defeat the point of having high walls?” Pete snaps.

“Why don't we shout?” Lily says. “Whoever is in there will come and let us in.”

“No shouting!” Pete almost breaks his own rule, nervously glancing behind us. “For all we know, the hordes are close by.”

“Why . . . don't we go in through the gates?” Alice slurs. She has dragged herself up and is leaning against one of them. She fiddles with the padlock and slowly unwinds the thick chain, which slithers to the ground with a muffled
thud
.

“How the hell . . . ?” Pete stutters.

“Malice?” Smitty says. “Did you pick the lock with a nail file?”

Alice makes a snarky face. “The padlock wasn't closed, you wanger.” She holds it up in her hand.

We stare in silence. It has come to this. It takes the girl with the concussion to see what's right in front of our noses.

“I dunno,” she mumbles. “Sometimes you losers like making things more complicated for yourselves.”

Smitty lets out a peal of laughter and claps Alice on the back as he pulls the gates open.

Everyone is buoyed by our success, and once we've rewrapped the chain around the gate behind us, we hurry with newly strong legs over the expanse of snow that separates us from the castle door.

The dark hulk of the castle crouches above us, the light from the single window casting an orange glow at our feet. We climb a few shallow steps up to the door. The window is too high to see in; there's no curtain, but the glass is latticed with thin strips of lead. Not exactly prison bars, but way better than we could have hoped for. If we get in, there ain't no way any Undead are gonna follow without some kind of missile launchers, and I haven't seen them pull that particular trick just yet.

Smitty tries the huge, round handle. It's obviously just for show.

“Maybe we should ring the bell first?” I point to a discreet metal buzzer to the side of the door. “We don't want to scare whoever's in there.”

Alice is already leaning on it. We wait, straining to hear approaching steps. Smitty presses his ear to the door.

“This is where the mad axman who lives here slices me through the face from the other side of the door.” He grins at me.

“Don't,” I say. Seriously, it could absolutely happen today.

Smitty tries banging on the door instead. Alice sinks to the ground again, little Cam starts to whine in his sister's arms, and Pete casts more freaked-out looks in the direction of the lane. But nobody comes to the door.

“So we go in the back.” Smitty is already walking away.

“No!” Lily calls out. She puts Cam down and gets a plastic bag out of her pocket, lays it on the snow-covered step, and sits. “We've gone far enough. You go round the back. When you find a way, come and let us in, aye?”

Smitty is fine with that. Alice and Pete are more than fine. I hover between the two camps: part of me wanting to stay put, the other not wanting Smitty to go alone. But my pause for thought is enough to ensure he slips off into the darkness without me.
I'll wait five minutes,
I think,
then I'll go after him.

The wind has dropped. As I sit on the step between Alice and Lily, something tickles me on the nose. I look up; it's snowing again. Just a few flakes.

“No,” moans Alice. “Like we need some more of that stuff.”

Cam begins to cry and squirm on Lily's lap. “Hey now, laddie,” she says to him softly. “Any minute now we'll be cozy inside with a canny roaring fire to sit beside.” He clings to her and she breathes onto his blond head. “We can make toast,” she continues. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? Make some toast on the fire like we did at Christmas?” she says. The boy nods. “Who knows? They might have marshmallows in there, an' all.”

I'm kind of dubious about her giving it the big buildup, but for now it seems to be working. Cam's excited by the marshmallows idea. He squirms out of his sister's lap and stands at the bottom of the steps, grinning.

“So, show me how you're going to toast marshmallows like a big boy, then?” Lily says.

He holds out his hand like he's got a fork, bending his knees and leaning toward us like we're the fire. It's too cute for words. Everyone laughs, even Pete.

“Watch out!” Lily says, her fingers wiggling like they're flames. “The fire's getting higher!” Her hands move toward him. “Don't get burnt!”

With a squeal of delight he snatches away the imaginary fork before her fingers can get too close. I raise my hands, too; the fire just got bigger. He does the same trick on me, and I leave it until a little longer before the flames rise, to make the joke better. He takes a couple of steps backward into the snow, which is almost waist deep on him. Then it's Alice's turn, and when she reaches for him, he retreats farther still, picking his way through our footprints, through the falling snow, his little legs working hard.

“Careful now!” Lily warns, but there's no real worry in her voice. It's soft snow. He can't go far and he can't hurt himself if he falls.

As if to prove the point, he does exactly that as he tries to return to the steps. He's on his back, swimming in a sea of the white stuff, giggling his head off. We laugh, too, and I wonder at how Cam can be running for his life one moment, then playing without a care the next.

“He's a sweetie.” I turn to Lily. “Have you got any more brothers and sisters?”

“Just him.” She smiles at me. “He's a right pain at times. You obviously don't have a younger brother, or you'd know.”

“No, it's just me,” I say.

Her face hardens. “Yeah, it's just us two now. Mam was in the café . . .”

“I know,” I say. “I'm really sorry.”

“Since we moved here she used to take him there every Saturday because he liked the milk shakes,” she says quietly. “That's what we were doing there.” She shakes her head. “She said it could be our new family tradition.”

“So where had you been hiding all this time?” I ask gently. “You and Cam were in the car, weren't you? And your mum went back in. What happened?”

Lily exhales loudly, staring out into the dark, and I see her eyes water.

“We argued. Last thing I told her was that she was stupid to bring us here.”

“So what happened?”

“She'd left her scarf in the café. Dad gave it to her last Christmas. I told her she should just leave it — like Dad left us — but she went back.”

“I'm sorry,” I say again. “And then?”

Lily pauses, checking to see if her brother is listening. But he's still playing in the snow, building a little nest around himself.

“Cam was crying. I turned up the radio really loud, shut my eyes, waited. When she didn't come back, I thought she was making a point. Wanted us to come after her or something. The car heater was on; I must have dozed off. The next thing I knew, the garage was exploding, and your bus was disappearing up the hill.”

“Did you stay in the car all night?” Alice is incredulous.

“No,” Lily says. “We went into the café, looked for Mam. Then we met one of those . . . things, and hid in a cupboard for the night. It was scratching at the door for hours, then it just gave up and went away. In the morning we went back to the car and tried to start it, but it wouldn't. I saw you come back in the bus. Thought if we hid on it, you would drive us out of there.”

“And you left the bus door open,” I say. “Smitty and I thought it was the zoms.”

“We were in the hold all along.” Lily almost smiles. “Didn't want to come out, in case you chucked us off again.”

“You were brave.” I try to sound reassuring. “You took care of Cam.”

Lily shakes her head. “Should never have been at the café in the first place. Crap milk shakes in a crap café.”

“Your village was totally infected, by the looks of things,” Pete interjects. “If it makes you feel any better, you probably all would have bought it if you'd stayed at home.”

“Pete!” I gasp.

“Shut up!” Lily scrambles to her feet, incensed. “Cam!” she calls. “Come here, now!” She turns to Pete. “You should watch your tongue, or I'll slap your stupid face!” she spits. “Don't you ever be saying things like that again around me or my brother, do you hear me?” She glances in the direction of the little boy again. “Come here, Cam! Now!”

“Doggy,” says Cam, from the snow.

“I'm sorry.” Pete is on his feet, too. “I was just trying to be realistic. I thought it would help.”

“Well, it doesn't,” Lily says. “Cam! Here, now!”

“Doggy,” says Cam again. “Here, Doggy-Doggy!”

We all turn to look.

Cam is sitting in his nest of snow. And a few feet away is a large, black, snarling dog.

Lily half gasps, half yelps, and I instinctively shoot out an arm to stop her from dashing to Cam. He holds out a stubby hand and wiggles his fingers, as if offering to tickle Doggy under the chinny chin chin.

“Cam!” Lily shouts. “Keep still!”

Drool is running from the dog's chops.

“Shit,” says Pete. “Is it infected?”

“Even if it's not, it's angry.” I look for our stuff. Two boards lie at the base of the steps, but if I make move for one of them, the dog might attack.

“Do something!” Alice is cowering behind me.

Looks like Cam is beginning to feel cold and wet in his snow-nest, and maybe he's sensing the dog isn't too keen on becoming best friends. He begins to grizzle and twist around, looking back to us and holding up his arms to Lily, asking to be picked up. The dog doesn't like this, and begins to bark. As Cam flops onto all fours, the dog pounces toward him, stopping just short of Cam's nest.

“Hey, Rover!”

Before I know what I'm doing, I've leapt down the steps into the snow and am striding away from the castle as fast as I can. I clap my hands. “Here, boy!”

The dog backs off Cam and skitters around in a tight circle as if chasing its tail. It
is
acting kind of crazy. And lucky for me, I have its full attention now. It flattens its ears and runs a larger circle around me. Out of the corner of my eye I see Lily scoop up Cam, and Pete and Alice go for the boards. They flatten themselves against the door and start banging on it, calling for Smitty. The dog keeps running around me, as if it's herding up a flock of sheep. The snarling has stopped, but the crazy hasn't. I don't notice anyone stepping up to create a diversion so that
I
can get away.
Now it's just me and the Hound of the Baskervilles.

There's a creaking sound from the direction of the castle. I see the door open and Pete, Alice, Lily, and Cam practically fall inside. Smitty appears in the doorway, confusion writ large on his face.

“What are you doing?” He stares at me, then spots the dog. “Oh, hello again, old chap! That's where you got to.” He bends down and claps his hands. The dog stops running, pricks up its ears, and wags its tail. Without so much as a glance at me, it trots inside, barely pausing for a pat on the head from Smitty.

“Problem?” Smitty smiles at me.

“Not at all.” I hurry toward him. “Except that dog wants to munch on Cam.” I quickly move past him and into the castle. Alice, Lily, and Cam are hiding behind the door. Pete stands in the middle of a large, dark hall.

“The dog went in there.” Pete points to the room where the light had been coming from. He gives a lopsided and proud smile. “I shut the door.”

“Thank God.” Lily shudders. “He was going to attack.”

“Nah . . . soft old mutt like that?” Smitty says. “Probably just doesn't like little kids. Lots of dogs don't, and who can blame them, frankly? Anyway, his bed's in there, he probably just wants some shut-eye.” He feels around on the wall. “Must be a light switch here somewhere.”

“You took your time,” I mutter. “Couldn't resist checking out the entire castle before you bothered to see if we were freezing to death — or worse?”

Smitty pouts at me, his eyes twinkling in spite of the gloom. “Only the ground floor. For everybody's safety.”

If someone was going to appear, they would have appeared by now, I figure. We've made enough noise.

“How did you get in?” Pete asks Smitty.

“By cunning and ingenuity,” he says. “And the back door. It wasn't locked, either. People who live in the country do the craziest things.”

“Got it.” Alice hits the lights, and we all gasp.

We're standing on a polished dark wood floor and the light is coming from a trio of crystal chandeliers that hang from the high ceiling. In front of us is a sweeping staircase, and on the walls hang faded tapestries of birds and dogs and horses. There are bookshelves and dressers and sideboards. Little statues and big statues. One of those old-fashioned bikes with one big wheel and one little one. And a huge globe of the world, the countries painted in yellows and greens, the sea a deep and stormy purple. Cam runs to it and pushes it, giggling. The colors blend into one as it spins.

“Careful,” Lily says quietly.

It's like a movie set. You could have the best parties here.

“Oh my Goth,” Alice says, pointing. “It's a coffin.”

We move toward it. It's tall and black, standing on its end against the wall underneath the staircase. There's a glass square on the lid.

“A window!” says Alice. “That's sick.” She turns and looks at us in shock. “Do vampires live here?” she whispers.

Smitty giggles. “Wouldn't you love that? Some pale-faced, doe-eyed pretty boy to suck on your neck?” He takes a peep into the window. “Edward's not home. Sorry, Malice.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He smiles back.

“Anyway, it's not a coffin, it's an iron maiden,” he says.

“Yeah, right,” Alice says.

“Actually, he is right,” says Pete. “It's pretty cool to see a real one.”

“Weren't you listening in History, Malice?” Smitty says. “It's full of spikes. They used to put you in there and close the lid if you'd been a naughty girl.”

“Of course I remember,” Alice says. “But who owns one of those things anyway? And why would you name it after some crumbly old rock band?”

Smitty is ROFL over this. I interrupt before he can rip her to pieces. The girl is concussed, after all.

“So, show us around,” I tell him. “We need to secure this place before we can rest up for the night.”

Smitty's in his element. He grabs a fencing sword, tries it for size, then tosses it to Pete. “This is more your style.” He finds something that looks like a decorative ax. “Hmm. This'll do.”

“Yeah,” snarls Alice. “If you wanna look like some dwarf from The Lord of the Rings.”

I think he's quite impressed Alice has even heard of The Lord of the Rings. Either way, his joy with the ax is undiminished. “Follow me!” he cries, and takes the door on the left-hand side of the hall. We follow.

“So the layout is symmetrical,” he stage-whispers to Alice. “That means it's the same on either side of the staircase.” She rolls her eyes. “Except for the tower that's at the back by the kitchen. Didn't check that, but it's locked and there's no key I could find.” He flicks on the light and affects a posh Scottish accent. “This is the drawing room.”

It's full-on McFancy: blue and green tartan wallpaper that feels like velvet, a deep carpet, and an assortment of uncomfortable-looking antique furniture. Next there's a dining room, with a long polished table and cabinets full of silver jugs and trinkets. Then Smitty's leading us through a kitchen with one of those big farmhouse ovens that look like they've come out of Noah's Ark.

“This is still warm!” Alice says, hovering her hands above the stove.

“They're always warm, those ovens,” Lily says. Cam is in her arms again. After his burst of activity he's out for the count and snoring quietly. “It doesn't mean anything.”

“What's this?” Alice lifts a shutter in the wall next to the oven and sticks her head in. “Urgh!” She clatters the shutter down again, and wipes imagined dust from her hands. “It's a secret passage!”

Smitty's straight in there, shutter open, his head up into the hole, looking around.

“Nuh-uh,” he says. “It's one of those old-fashioned moving shelf things they used to send food upstairs.”

“Dumbwaiter,” I say.

“If you say so, Roberta,” Smitty says. “I'm not
smart
enough to know.”

Pete shouts from the other side of the room. “There's a pantry here. And two fridges full of food.” He holds up a half-empty bottle of milk. “It's still fresh.”

“Food! Gimme!” A day ago Alice would not have been seen dead rushing to get food, but that was a day ago. And once she goes for it, we all go.

The pantry is a large, cool room with shelves and shelves of goodies. Well, some goodies and then an awful lot of weird stuff in jars and tins that people from the War probably ate. Pickled pig's feet, goose fat, things suspended in jelly. But there are cookies and crisps-not-chips and reasonably fresh bread, and in the fridge, cheese and slices of cold meat and chocolate mousse with cream on top! We crowd together excitedly, cramming food in, not pausing to find plates or cutlery or somewhere to sit.

There are sodas in one of the fridges, and I make a grab for one.

“Pass me the juice,” Alice says, pointing to a carton in the fridge. I pick it up and hold it out. She's about to take it when we both see the label.

Alice screams and I scream. I drop the carton like it's hot.

“What gives?” says Smitty. “Whoa . . .” He sees what gives.

We back off the carton like it's a ticking bomb . . . or a poisonous snake . . . or a carton of zombie juice.

“Is it open?”

“Is it leaking?”

“What's it doing here?”

“Get rid of it!”

“What's the problem?” Lily is staring at us like we're crazy.
Of course. She doesn't know.

“You drink the juice, it makes you into one of them,” I summarize.

We stare at the carton. It lies there, a little cartoon Carrot Man waving to us from the packaging.

“Bad juice.” Cam shakes a finger at it.

“That's right, Cam,” Lily says, pulling him closer to her. “We don't touch the bad juice.”

“Somebody's going to have to!” Alice shouts.

It's Pete who finds the rubber gloves. He looks at home in them. We disappear into the kitchen while he wets a towel and wraps it around his face, finds three plastic bags, and triple-wraps the carton, tying the bags in a double knot. He carries his deadly package at arm's length through the kitchen, steps onto a chair, unlatches a leaded window. A blast of cold air blows in. Pete lobs the carton through the air and out into the snow. Then he unties the towel and unpeels the gloves, and chucks them out, too.

“That wasn't very environmentally friendly, was it?” says Smitty.

“What if an animal finds it?” I say. “We don't know how it could affect them.”

“Ooh, killer bunnies and zombie hedgehogs,” quips Smitty. “Can't wait.”

“Killa bunneez!” says Cam, and claps his hands.

“Would you like me to go and get it back, then?” Pete says, deadpan. “Because I can absolutely do that if you would like. It didn't leak, by the way. And I don't think the seal was open. Whoever put it in that fridge hadn't sampled any yet.”

“Let's just hope that wasn't the second carton.” Lily gathers Cam up and heads for the door. “We need to get settled for the night. It's been a long day.”

* * *

We explore the rest of the castle. Well,
explore
is not really the right word.
Explore
makes it sound fun. It also makes it sound like we do a thorough job, and we don't. We ignore the locked tower next to the kitchen. There is a big keyhole without a key. We're not going in, and if there's anything in there, it's not getting out. At least not tonight. We move the kitchen table in front of the door just to be sure.

Same with the basement, except this door has a key. Smitty opens it up and looks down the stairs. All is quiet. He relocks the door and we shuffle a large wooden chest in front of it to make ourselves feel better.

On the ground floor, as well as the rooms we've already checked out, there's a mudroom next to the kitchen, a library, a bathroom, and a room with a pool table. And then there's the room with the dog. It's also the room that looks the most comfortable. There are three bashed-up couches and a stone fireplace big enough for us all to stand in. It's obvious that this is where we should stay tonight, all together in one room. Smitty coaxes the dog into the kitchen with some slices of ham and moves the dog's bed beside the oven, where he'll be warm. As long as Smitty does the snack runs, we should be OK.