Bad Timing Page 2

  I joined the child as he intently watched the end of the street.

  “Do you see anything?” I asked him.

  “No. I don’t see any monsters.” He looked up at me with big wet brown eyes.

  “Did you see anything that I did?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “No,” he replied looking at his feet. “I liked it when you did the splits,” he whispered.

  Of course he’d turned round, but he hadn’t run away.

  “It’s called the Wishbone,” I said crouching in front of him. “Close your eyes and make a wish.”

  He shut his eyes and said his wish beneath his breath. I heard it of course, and it was to find his family.

  “My name is Brit, what’s yours?”

  “Ryan.”

  “Ok Ryan,” I said lifting him onto my hip, “Let’s find your family, where was the last place you saw them?”

  “The zoo.”

  I knew that a trip to the zoo was going to cost me time, but the world had run out of faeries, so I guessed wishes were now under a vampire’s job description.

  I picked up the machete and threaded through my belt, keeping my axe in my hand. I didn’t need to know where the zoo was: when I listened real close, I could hear the animals’ hungry howling in the distance.

  “Hold on tight, Ryan,” I whispered, then we ran.

  Chapter Three

  I couldn’t remember how many days it had been since the world had turned into one giant undead mosh pit. Three? Ten? Time to a vampire wasn’t overly important; I didn’t even wear a watch, I tended to judge the time by the position of the sun. Old habits die hard, and ancient habits don’t die at all. The streets of Blackpool smelt foul and God knows what crunched beneath my boots as I ran toward the massive iron gates that still held a menagerie of starving creatures against their will.

  I rattled the gate; locked.

  “Hold on tight, Ryan.”

  He gripped at my shoulder and ponytail, which hurt like a mother, but I said nothing. I could hear his soft whimpers and feel sobs jolting his tiny frame. He’d dealt with enough already without having me yelling at him.

  I crouched down and launched us into the air and over the gates. On landing I let Ryan slip gently down to the ground. He steadied himself then looked up at me. He tugged my hand.

  “Can we do that again?”

  “Maybe later, okay?”

  Ryan threw his gaze back to the ground. “Okay.”

  I put my hand out, which he took into his clammy grip. We walked into the zoo. The smell of a hundred kinds of piss and shit almost made me gag.

  “Where was the last place you saw your family?” I scanned the distance. Apart from the animals, it was particularly undisturbed.

  “My daddy runs the gift shop, we were hiding there.” Ryan pointed to a laminated map that decorated the path. I studied it for a moment and worked out that there were three gift shops. It would have to be trial and error.

  The enclosures were dark, but I could see more than just the glistening hungry eyes that lingered beyond the stone walls and water moats. Creatures watched us pass. They couldn’t reach us so just sat staring with starved and careful eyes.

  The first gift shop was closed up and no one answered when I knocked on the doors. The second one was ransacked, so someone was definitely here. The third was fortified and I could smell live blood.

  I knocked on the door and heard whispers.

  “Hello?” I said. No answer.

  “Is there anyone in there?” I suppressed the thought of telling them I’d huff and puff.

  “I have your son.” Oh, crap did that sound like a ransom demand? I lifted Ryan so he could knock too.

  “Daddy, let me in,” he said.

  There was a scuffle and suddenly the door shot open. Ryan launched himself out of my arms and into the shop. I wedged my foot forward to stop the door from shutting behind him.

  “Who the hell are you?” The man demanded as Ryan slammed into him for a massive hug.

  “I’m the girl that brought you your son back, you ungrateful …”

  “This is Brit, she killed the bad man,” Ryan declared.

  “I’m Tony, sorry. It’s been a stressful couple of days.” He freed Ryan from his embrace then put his hand out to me. He was early thirties and had a thatch of thick brown curls that grazed cracked glasses.

  I shook his hand, “I’m living those days too.”

  “Of course you are. I bet it’s much worse out there.”

  “You have no idea.” I walked in to discover there were seven people of varying ages scattered about the small shop. They were smelly and, I’m guessing having lived for days on gift shop candy and ice cream, were on the downward curl of a sugar roller-coaster.

  I nodded at them. They eyed my weapons as I put them down. I pulled my, ‘try it and I’ll snap your necks’ face. They all averted their wanton gazes.

  “So, Tony, dare I ask how your son ended up on his own out there?”

  “My wife took him, said I was over-reacting.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. He kind of reminded me of an older Harry Potter, soft spoken and sounded like he had a weak will to go with that too. I’d have never let anyone take my child from me. Jack. An unfamiliar tug caught in my chest.

  “I’m guessing she didn’t make it. Sorry.” I ruffled Ryan’s hair. He’d not said one word about his mother. Maybe she was still out there somewhere in the bloody rubble of Blackpool, but I’d be damned if I backtracked anymore. I had to move forward. I had to get to Ireland.

  “Look, I’m travelling to a safe haven. You should all come with me.” I know, not the most rousing recruitment speech, but I was having a tough week and since I’d only seen Braveheart once, I couldn’t remember a word of that famous freedom speech.

  “How do we know that you’re leading us somewhere safe?” asked a man in his fifties.

  I was about to make some introductions and try to commit their names to memory, but realized that names weren’t the issue. In fact, taking these guys with me was going to slow me down. But I couldn’t leave them holed up here. There were only so many ice cream sandwiches that keep your growling stomach at bay. And eventually the undead were getting in here, if they weren’t already.

  “You don’t. You just have to trust me. Or not and stay here for as long as you can before the dead get so hungry they smell you out.” Harsh, but true.

  “Brit, is that short for Brittany?” A teenage girl edged toward me.

  “No, my name is Britannia.”

  “Oh!” The girl grabbed my elbow and pulled me to the back of the shop. “There’s a man on the radio, he’s asking for you.”

  “What?” I wriggled out of her grip and watched as another man pulled out one of the zoo’s security radios, which was producing an alarming amount of white noise.

  “He keeps repeating a really crazy message, but it’s definitely for you,” said the man, who conveniently wore a name tag with ‘Pete’ on it. He fiddled with the knob and suddenly the crackle died and I heard the message:

  “Britannia, the kettle has boiled, where are you?”

  It was Tate. He kept saying the same thing over and over like a tired mantra that made no sense to anyone but him, and me.

  “Can I talk to him?” I reached for the radio.

  “No, it’s broken. We can’t transmit.”

  “But you know the frequency?”

  “He keeps changing it, but he’s methodical,” Pete said staring at the radio like a long lost pet.

  “His name is Tate. He’s my friend and he’ll come and get us. Take us to the haven.” I looked up at everyone who had gathered around us. “Come with me. I promise I can keep safe.”

  They began to whisper to each other. Of course I heard everything, every objection, suspicion, and the odd vote of confidence.

  “I’m going with her,” Tony declared, “she saved Ryan, she didn’t have to bring him back to me, but she did. We will be with you.”

  Pete nodd
ed at me and the others murmured their agreements.

  Okay, I needed a plan. I knew where the pier was, but it was probably covered in zombies. I needed a distraction to get everyone onto the pier and onto the boat that hopefully Tate would send to me, once of course I could speak to him to tell him that I was alive.

  “Right, I’m going to the nearest shop. I’m getting a new radio so we can call Tate. I’ll also bring back some meals that aren’t in the sugar food group. We’re then going to the docks and getting the hell out of here.”

  I left my bag with Tony and took a massive zoo shopper bag, then picked up my axe, and strode back out into the zoo. I marched toward the gate with a renewed sense of motivation. I now knew the steps it would take to get me over the Irish Sea, rather than being spat up again like salty water vomit.

  I moved with purpose, but just before I got to the gates a slow howl pierced the now night air. I edged toward the howler’s enclosure. This cage had both a fence and a moat surrounding it. The zoo wasn’t leaving any chance to escape here.

  I looked to my left, to see the information point sign; I was stood in front of the wolf enclosure. Contrary to popular belief there are no such things as werewolves, but the wolves themselves were just as much a problem. I could still remember when they were native to England. They would lurk and hunt through our dense forests, singing their sorrowful cries to the moon. I looked back to see a massive black wolf staring right at me from across the pit. Its calm silence spoke louder than any howl. For a strange moment I missed putting my hand down and feeling Satan’s furry snout.

  The creature before me was trapped, yet steady in its belief that that would change. Any normal animal would be pacing, crying, and tearing its fur out. But this one simply stared at me, waiting.

  I jumped the moat and fence then crouched before it. I could lift it up, like Satan, get it across the barrier and free it, just like it wanted. I carefully moved toward the wolf, it stood proud and tall, neither scared nor interested in my movements.

  “There’s a good boy,” I cooed at it.

  I then gently hugged it about the stomach and held it close while I jumped back across the moat. Once on the other side, it looked up at me, yellow eyes glinted in the soft moonlight; it wiggled from my grasp then opened its mouth, growled and leapt at me.

  Chapter Four

  .

  Its sheer force of weight toppled us both over and the wolf roared above me, its mouth distorted and bloody. It was only at this moment that I noticed that its fur was tinged red. It was infected. I rolled over and slammed it to the ground. It yelped and the cry seemed to illicit noises from all the cages surrounding us. I felt like a character from a Star Trek episode trapped in an alien fight pit, the faceless, yelling spectators blended into the middle distance. Oh crap, I was even wearing a red shirt!

  The wolf clawed at me and I shifted away to avoid its talons. I didn’t want to fight it; I’d only wanted to give it its freedom, a chance for survival. A low guttural growl rumbled through its body and it bounced upright and sprang back at me. I sidestepped again, like I was in some weird wolf barn dance. I grabbed its tail and threw it around my head and back over the fence into its enclosure. When it realized it was back in its cage, it howled and yelped at me.

  “I’m not falling for that again,” I said. Then I realized a question that I perhaps should have asked long before now: how the hell had it been infected? And how had the infection spread so quickly and done so much damage in such a small amount of time? I’d lived through too many epidemics to count and none had spread so fast and as aggressively as this one. Even the Black Death had had incubation period, its symptoms developed over time. Another chorus of the undead animal choir knocked my thoughts back to the present. Right, in times of war you have to put out the nearest fire first. Get supplies, get the people to the pick-up point, and get to Ireland – yes, I was missing a few crucial steps in between, but you either play the hand you’ve been dealt or decapitate the dealer.

  I took off into the streets again. I’d seen shops along the way and so knew where I was heading. There were small pockets of shuffling zombies gathered around some of the shop fronts, but the axe turned out to be a pretty effective crowd control tool. A few gross tumbling heads later and I’d made it through to an electrical shop. The most important part of the plan was to contact Tate. I had to get him word that I was still alive and that there were people here still in need of rescue, I also had a deep seated desperate need to shut up his inane whining. What the hell does he care if I’m not home for tea? Men are such idiots!

  Most vampires stay clear of science; it’s an instinct that resonates from our magical bones. Personally I’ve never shied away from technology: the music is better nowadays and you don’t have to threaten to eat an entire orchestra every time you want to hear your favorite composer. But I still didn’t want to know how things worked. My fridge kept my blood chilled; that was as far as my scientific knowledge extended. I was regretting my arrogant laziness now. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for and the aisle that was clearly labeled ‘radios’ seemed to only house ones you tuned, not ones you talk through. I was about to throw an iPad into the middle distance when a shuffling noise made me raise my weapon. It was then that I noticed a slight burning dust smell coming from the back of the shop. I edged further in and saw a shadow move in the corner of my eye. Zombies certainly weren’t shy, but I couldn’t make out the smell of live human either. Another vampire?

  Chapter Five

  “If there’s someone there, you’d better show yourself. Unless you want me to cleave off your head,” I shouted. I heard a cough and saw a tall, well-built man slip from the shadows. He wasn’t bad looking, but his dark hair was styled with cement-like gel and his eyes were far too blue to be natural.

  “Apologies. I wasn’t sure if you were friend or foe.” He nodded at me.

  He was a vampire, probably a little younger than me.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “My dear, you are the one trespassing on my territory. It should be me asking questions of you.” He gave me a sly smile, as if he was trying to get away with something. Like he’d farted and was waiting for me to smell it.

  “If this was truly your territory you’d have attacked me, not slunk in the shadows like a sniveling child.” I pulled my axe back so I held it by the handle and it rested on my shoulder.

  He put his hands up; he was unarmed and laughed beneath his breath. “I now understand the Elders rule.”

  He was referring to the old, no female vampires rule – misogynistic t scumbags. It was then that I got a good whiff of blood, live human blood.

  “Have you got people here?”

  “Why yes, we’ve collected a few to take to the Highlands. Would you like to join me for a drink?”

  And he’d been openly feeding off them, great!

  “No, I’ll give that a miss. Where are they?”

  “In the store room, back there. They’re uninfected,” he said with a sweeping invitation with his arm. “I must say, I’ve never seen a female vampire so beautiful.”

  Good grief, did he think this was some sort of date? That we would sit back and watch Dawn of the Dead whilst munching on scared survivors? What an asshat!

  I narrowed my eyes and walked to the door he was pointing to. He smiled and gestured for me to open it. I did. Now I was fully aware that this could have been a trap, but even if a hundred vampires descended on me, I still had an axe to Red Queen their asses back to Wonderland.

  “May I introduce myself?” he said behind me.

  “No.” I stepped through the door and was hit with the smell of both old and fresh blood. I took in the large warehouse back quickly: boxes were piled high with electronics, gadgets and God only knows what other useless items, but there were also people crouching by them. They were blindfolded and roped together with a thick unforgiving plastic vine. Some were still bleeding from where he had fed off them. Some were whispering prayer
s in ragged voices. Some slowly pulled at their bindings, more like they were an itch than a problem. But all cowered when they heard his voice. There was a collective shiver that even caught me in its terrible wake. Whoever this vampire was, he was truly living up to monster status now.

  “Here,” he said as he lifted the plastic rope and pulled the nearest person toward us, “have a drink.”

  I looked at the young boy bound and blindfolded before me; he had blood all down his Simpson’s t-shirt and he’d pissed himself, probably days ago now. This was what the Highlands were going to be like, just with slightly less feeling and more order.

  “My name is Ludwig. What’s yours, my blonde haired vixen?” He pushed the boy at me and I moved so that I was stood between them.

  “Britannia.”

  “What?” Ludwig’s eyes widened. He’d heard of me, the lack of blue hair had been what had put him off the initial recognition. If I’d looked more like my old self he’d have run from me, or attacked me in the shop. I might never have discovered his little person larder.

  “Yeah, I was forced into a make under.” I smiled sweetly at him, “Ludwig, you have something on your sleeve.” I swung the axe so hard that it cleaved his arm straight off. Blood sprayed across me, splattering my face and streaking the front of my hair. Unlike human blood, vampire blood is cool, smells metallic and tastes like sea water, kind of like your blood tastes to you. Some vampires get a taste for their own kind; those were usually the ones that the Elders sent me after.

  Ludwig’s look of shock was only matched by his girlish scream. He clutched at his leaky stump and shuddered. I lifted the axe again, this time to cleave off his head, but he must have regained a modicum of resolve, as he caught the axe’s blade in mid-swing. I quickly slipped my hands down the handle and, palms up, slammed it vertically so that its blade crushed against his skull. I heard a sickening crack as bone crumbled against the force. He keeled and stumbled back through the shop’s doors. I edged forward and crouched, sweeping my leg out to trip him over. Once he lay sprawled on the floor, I lifted my axe a final time and off rolled his head. It tumbled down the flat screen TV section.