Zom-B Mission (11 page)

‘We don’t give a monkey’s,’ Conall adds.

‘You’ve got to remember that billions of people were killed by your lot,’ Vinyl says. ‘If you save a dozen people each . . . a hundred . . . even a thousand, that won’t change
what’s gone down. The survivors will never forget or forgive.’

‘They weren’t
our
lot,’ Shane gripes. ‘We’re revitaliseds, not reviveds. We’re more like you than the zombies out there.’

‘Really?’ Vinyl smiles thinly. ‘Do you have a heartbeat? Do you sleep? Do you breathe?’

Shane glowers at him but says nothing.

Vinyl grimaces. ‘Look, I’m on your side, but I can see why others aren’t
and I don’t hold it against them. You can’t convince them that their hatred of you is misplaced because it isn’t. A week without brains and you’d be hammering on the walls of New Kirkham the same as a regular zombie.’

There’s a gloomy silence. This has taken the gloss off the mission. I wasn’t expecting fireworks, but I did think our efforts would be greeted with at least a heartfelt thank
you.

‘Hey,’ Vinyl says, ‘don’t let it drag you down. Let me show you the highlights before you leave.’

‘As long as you don’t expect a tip,’ Rage grunts.

Vinyl laughs and leads us into the compound. Several of the men and women with guns follow closely behind, keeping watch, not lowering their weapons. It’s lovely to feel wanted!

SEVENTEEN

The thing that strikes me most about New Kirkham is how clean the place is. I’d almost forgotten what towns and cities looked like in the old days. No puke stains here from feeding zombies. No bloodstains either, or corpses and bones lying in the middle of the streets. They keep it spick and span, no rubbish, no rotten food, no weeds or wild flowers.

‘It’s designed to be
as sterile as possible,’ Vinyl explains as we wind past locals who scurry out of our way, taking no chances. ‘We don’t want to attract insects, birds, squirrels, rats, anything that could carry the zombie gene into the compound.’

We pass some fields where they grow their own food. The farmers at work are dressed in beekeeper outfits, to protect them from flies or worms. I think it’s a touch
excessive, but I understand their caution.

‘That’s where I got this from,’ Pearse says, tapping his own headgear. ‘I asked them if they had any spares. This was one they were going to throw out. It has some tears and rips that make it useless for them, but it’s perfect for me.’

We can see the walls again from here. Carl stops and studies them. He looks concerned. ‘You might want to
recommend they build the walls higher,’ he says. ‘I could probably jump one of them if I had a clear run.’

‘And I could definitely climb it,’ Shane boasts, flexing his fingers. ‘My bones are like titanium. I could dig into that steel plating, no problem.’

‘Angels are different to normal zombies,’ Vinyl says. ‘You have more powers than them. Or maybe they have similar powers, but can’t
realise their potential because of their inactive brains. Either way, I wouldn’t mention your advanced abilities too loudly, in case the locals decide you’re too dangerous for your own good.’

‘We’re trying to help,’ Shane growls.

‘They know but they fear you regardless.’ Vinyl sighs. ‘Anyway, the walls work with regular zombies and that’s all that matters. It’s not like we have to fear
an attack from you lot, is it?’

‘Not unless we run out of brains in London,’ Rage purrs dangerously.

‘Don’t be greedy,’ Vinyl tuts. ‘We already send you the brains of people who die of natural causes. Burke told me that some other settlements do that too. You need compounds like ours. If we were all killed off, where would you get your brains from in the future?’

I spot a group
of girls skipping and playing games. It seems so long ago since I was in their position. I never did much skipping on the streets, but I used to train in the local boxing gym when I was younger and I’d often test out the ropes there. I had swift feet according to my coach. Then I hit my teens and lost interest.

‘How many people live here?’ I ask.

‘Just under a thousand, give or take,’
Vinyl says.

‘And how many more do you reckon the compound can hold?’

He shrugs. ‘As long as we can keep ferrying in supplies from outside, we could easily treble our numbers. But if we ever got cut off from the outside world, fifteen hundred or thereabouts is probably the max.’

‘What would happen if there were three thousand here and you got penned in and couldn’t slip out any more?’

He grins humourlessly. ‘Last in, first out.’

‘Seriously?’

He nods. ‘It’s not like we’d throw the likes of Emma and Declan over the wall if that happened tomorrow. Chances are it would be a gradual process and we’d have time to adapt. But if the worst came to the worst, we’d let them leave through the tunnels, give them weapons and food, point them in the direction of the nearest army-run
compound.’

‘What if they didn’t want to leave?’ Ashtat asks.

Vinyl shakes his head. ‘We have a good thing going. We run a civilised ship. But I’m not going to claim that it’s perfect, that we wouldn’t turn nasty if the situation changed and we found ourselves with our backs to the wall. This is a hard world. We can be hard too, if we need to be.’

We press on, Vinyl trying to lift
the mood by telling us some more about the town’s recent history, the race they faced to build the walls, how they fended off the zombies while they were working.

We’re eyed bleakly by most of the people we pass. I don’t mind the uneasy looks, but I’m surprised when a gang of guys treat us with actual contempt. They jeer and spit, call Ashtat crude names, and lob racist insults Vinyl’s
way. I bristle and turn to square up to them.

‘Leave it,’ Vinyl snaps.

‘The hell I will. I’m not letting them get away with that.’

‘If you tackle them, you’ll be shot dead before you can take three steps,’ he warns me.

I glance at the snipers who are shadowing us. Their faces are blank. ‘Are those creeps racists too?’ I sneer.

‘Some of them,’ Vinyl says as we move forward again.
‘Not all of the prejudices of the past have been left behind. You’d think people would have enough on their plate, worrying about zombies, but old hatreds die hard.’

‘Why do you let them stay?’ Ashtat asks, looking angrier than I’ve ever seen her.

‘We need them,’ Vinyl says glumly. ‘We can’t afford to be selective. Besides, there are more of them than you might think. We’ve heard claims
on some radio stations that the zombie virus was the result of a terrorist attack. A lot of people were wary of foreigners in the first place. This has made them even warier.’

‘But you’re not a foreigner,’ I frown. ‘You’re London born and bred.’

‘Yeah, but I’m a different colour to most people here,’ Vinyl says softly. ‘That makes me a threat to those of a certain mindset. You should
know that better than most, B.’

I stiffen, then sigh. ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’m just shocked that buggers like my dad are still going strong.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Vinyl snorts. ‘This is the perfect time for them. People are never more receptive to horror stories than when they’re already scared. Bigots have seized on the fears of the masses since time began and used them to their own
advantage. Some things never change.’

We round a corner and Vinyl lowers his voice. ‘Apparently some compounds have been segregated. Whites live separately to others, or have driven out anyone who wasn’t to their liking. I’ve even heard wild tales that a branch of the KKK has formed in England, that its members are going round the country, imposing their order on compounds where their message
of hate finds welcome ears.’

‘That can’t be true,’ Carl says. ‘The Ku Klux Klan were only in America. They never made it over here.’

‘Not for want of trying, I bet,’ Vinyl retorts. ‘Maybe it just wasn’t the right time for them before. Maybe this is what they’ve been waiting for.’ He grimaces. ‘I’m sure there’s no truth to the stories, that they’re being spread by idiots who want to
scare people. Still, it’s a sign of how volatile things are that rumours like this are circulating.

‘The world crashed to its knees when the zombies ran riot. Assuming we can eliminate them, someone’s going to get the chance to build civilisation anew. Zealots are already putting their plans in place, trying to ensure they get to make the world the way they want it next time round.’

Rage smirks at Vinyl. ‘Sounds like it’s not just the zombies you need to worry about. You might have to start whiting up.’

‘Not in this life,’ Vinyl says hotly. ‘I’d rather die than play along with cowardly scum like them.’

‘Yeah,’ I say quietly, remembering that day in the school when I made my belated stand against my father. ‘I know how you feel.’

‘Good to have you on the team,’
Vinyl smiles, then puts the doom and gloom behind him and carries on with the tour, though it’s hard for him to be as cheerful as he was after that troubling conversation.

EIGHTEEN

The racists aside, I’m impressed by New Kirkham. The people are doing their best to ignore the chaos on the other side of the walls and get on with their lives. There are schools, training programmes for adults, gym classes. Vinyl tells us there are shows most nights, plays and concerts. They’ve put together a well-stocked library. They have oil-run generators, but rather than
rely on them, they’re busy installing solar panels and they plan to construct a wind farm on a nearby hill. As well as scavenging, they make their own clothes, fashion their own spears and knives, preparing in case they ever have to shut themselves off from the world.

By the end of the tour I’m smiling thoughtfully. I have real hope for the first time that mankind can put the world back
the way it was. They’ll probably need us to help get rid of the zombies, but it’s refreshing to see that the survivors are taking matters into their own hands, not just sitting around and waiting miserably for someone to come save them.

I’d settled into a routine in County Hall. I knew that ultimately we were supposed to be fighting for the living, but I’d forgotten what that actually meant,
how much was at stake.

Now I feel re-energised. Vinyl and the others are building for a bright new future and I want to be part of that. I want to help them expand. I want to be involved.

‘So what do you think?’ Vinyl asks as we return to the gate.

‘It’s cool,’ I grin.

‘It needs a few tweaks,’ Ashtat mutters, still angry about the racists.

‘It’s a dump,’ Rage says. ‘But as
dumps go, it’s OK.’

‘Do you need us to send you anything when we get back?’ I ask Vinyl.

‘Nah,’ he says. ‘We’re good. But thanks for the offer.’

‘When will we see you again?’

He shrugs. ‘Maybe when you have more survivors to deliver. Dr Oystein usually sends Pearse and Conall to fetch me. If you ask, maybe he’ll send you with them.’

‘I’ll do that. I want to catch up more, hang
out, see what you get up to here.’

‘I don’t know if I can promise that,’ Vinyl says regretfully. ‘Most of the others don’t like it when you guys outstay your welcome—not that it was much of a welcome to begin with. And I can’t really hop over the wall and go for a stroll with you, can I?’

Vinyl guides us to a ladder and tells us to climb up one by one. He comes last, keeping an eye on
the posse with the guns, making sure nobody steps out of line. Some of them look like we’ve insulted them by not giving them an excuse to shoot. If there was no witness to take our side, they might be tempted to fire at us and claim it was self-defence.

It’s a frightening view from the platform at the top of the ladder. We’re looking out over a sea of zombies. They gibber at us wildly, unable
to tell from this distance that we’re the same as them, thinking we’re the living come to gawp.

‘Imagine waking up to that every morning,’ Vinyl sniffs. ‘It’s even worse at night. Thousands more come when the sun goes down.’

‘Have you thought about moving to an island?’ I ask.

‘We considered it. But most of the islands within easy reach of the coast have been taken over already,
and they’re very careful about who they let in. Besides, I’m not convinced they’re secure. The dead don’t need air, so they can walk along the bottom of the sea. They haven’t figured that out yet, but I reckon it’s only a matter of time. One of these days they’ll realise there are juicy pickings beyond the shoreline and go in search of them. Those settlements will topple like dominoes when that
happens, because they haven’t counted on an underwater invasion.’

‘You should warn them,’ Ashtat says.

‘We already tried, with the few we were able to make contact with. They laughed at us. They’ve grown soft. They aren’t faced with a daily struggle the way we are. They thought we were scaremongering.’

There’s a gloomy silence. Then Shane shakes his head. ‘So how do we get down?
Is there a ladder or a rope?’

‘Jump,’ Vinyl replies.

Shane starts to smile.

‘I’m serious,’ Vinyl says. ‘The zombies would scale a ladder or rope. Your legs can take the impact. You’re made of tough stuff.’

‘But what if one of us breaks an ankle or something?’ Shane protests.

‘You’ve got the Groove Tubes, haven’t you?’

‘Yeah, but it’s a long bloody walk back to London on
a busted ankle.’

‘Then my advice would be to land carefully.’

‘It’s OK,’ Pearse laughs, clapping Shane’s back. ‘We’re not that high up. Conall and I do this all the time. It’s fun.’

To demonstrate, he steps forward, unclips a length of barbed wire, slips between two spikes and steps off into thin air. He drops silently and lands on a pack of zombies. They collapse beneath him and
howl indignantly.

‘Do they ever attack?’ I ask Conall.

‘Not if you just lie there and do nothing,’ he says. ‘They get irritable if you land on them like Pearse did, but they calm down when they realise you’re undead. They never strike their own unless provoked.’

Conall follows Pearse’s example and the rest leap off after him, one at a time, Shane under protest, muttering darkly to
himself.