Zombie Business

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I'm OK,' I lie. 'Just sad because dead.' my friends are

everything dies mummy,' Holy Moly says. 'Is that supposed to comfort me?' I snap. Holy Moly nods sweetly. 'yes.'

I suppress a grimace. 'I know you mean well, but I'd rather be by myself right now. Will you leave me, like you were going to a while ago?"

if that's what you want... Holy Moly says uncer tainly, worried about me now.

'It is,' I say firmly. "You guided me to safety. You're a good boy... or girl ... or whatever the hell you are. I'll be fine on my own."

ok mummy,' Holy Moly says and sets off across the bridge, moving with its characteristic eerie smooth ness and speed.

'Wait!' I call the baby back. 'Where are you going?"

there,' Holy Moly says, pointing at County Hall. 'i want to be with the others. they look like they're having fun.

'I'm sure they are,' I say bitterly, finding it hard not to hate the baby right now. 'But will you do me a favour?'

of course,' it squeals, excited to be of service.

'Will you go the other way?' I ask. 'Back under ground, to wait for the rest of them in Daddy's den?"

Holy Moly stares at me, its pale forehead wrin

kling, but i'll miss the fighting mummy That's not a bad thing,' I tell it. 'I don't want you

to fight.' 'why not?

I pause, wondering how to explain the difference between good and evil. In the end I decide it's a hopeless task, that I'd only confuse the poor thing if I began lecturing it.

'I'm worried you might get hurt,' I say instead. The baby giggles.

"silly mummy' 'Silly as they come.' I smile stiffly. But please, do this for me. I'll be happy if I know you're safe.'

ok mummy,' Holy Moly sighs, and sets off in the other direction, back the way we came. The baby stops at the lift door and stares solemnly at the button. Turns and looks at me. 'can i use the stairs instead of the small room? i didn't like the small room mummy.'

I nod. "The stairs will be fine.'

'thank you mummy,' Holy Moly says, trotting to

the top step.

'Wait.' I stop the baby again. It looks back ques tioningly. I'm tired and I don't want to think about the future, but I must. I know that Dr Quinn would want me to fight on, even when all else seems lost. There's not much I can do by myself to thwart the forces of wickedness and madness, but maybe I can throw a spanner in the works, or at least them a few sleepless nights. I cause

'Come here,' I call to Holy Moly, crouching down and leaning back against the bars which support the railing that runs across the bridge. 'I want to make my last will and testament, and I'd like you to be my executor.'

'i don't understand mummy,' Holy Moly says. 'I know,' I laugh softly. 'But it won't take me long to explain...'

I rest on the bridge after Holy Moly has slipped away, listening to the roars, screams and crackle of flames in the near distance. The mutants have started fires inside County Hall, hell-bent on burning the place to the ground. I don't think they stand a hope of doing that, but they can certainly gut a lot of it if they carry on as they've begun.

As I'm gathering myself for my final push, I think about Dr Quinn and the Angels, Ciara and Reilly, Master Zhang. Are any of them alive? Did some of them make it out before the net closed? If so, how many will survive the next few challenging weeks, robbed of their base and sup port?

I could easily stay where I am and brood, but since I don't want to be discovered by a stray mutant or baby, I crawl to the lift (in my state, the stairs would be too much of a challenge) and return to ground level.

I limp along beside the river, heading east simply because that's the most direct route out of here. I stick close to the buildings on my left, hugging the shadows, making sure no one on the South Bank can spot me.

I want to feel worse than I do, have a nervous breakdown, beat the pavement with my fists, howl at the sky and demand justice from God. But I've endured so many terrible things in recent times that I can't work up to a hysterical high. I've lost my family and everyone I cared about, been tortured by one homicidal maniac, and married to another. Ever since I was turned into a zombie, it seems that all the world has wanted to do is pummel me, cast me aside and leave me to wander on my own through the urban wilderness.

In the past I had hope to keep me going. The hope that I might be able to help the living, that there was a place for me in this savage new society, that I could be of worth.

That hope has been cut away from me. This was one blow too many. It's not the physical pain that has left me feeling hollow inside, or the loss of my friends, or the fact that I'm all on my own.

No, the reason I feel like I'm all washed up is that this has happened to me over and over again. The forces of destiny or luck are not on my side. Everything in nature seems to be lined up against me.

Why push on and fight for a world that clearly doesn't want me, that has punished me at every meaning turn? I'm not dumb. I tried to play the in get the well message. I part of a hero, even though it wasn't my genes, but some higher power has decided I'm not fit for that role. It wants the glory to go to someone else. I understand. In truth, that's the way it should be. A hero should be someone proud and noble, not a loud-mouthed girl who was too afraid to stand up to a racist, who threw an innocent boy to a pack of zombies because she didn't have the guts to disobey her bullying father.

Heh. It always comes back to Tyler Bayor. I sup pose it always should. That's when I cast my humanity aside. Everything since then has been an attempt to make up for that foul deed, to redeem myself. But some creeps aren't worthy of redemption. Time for me to find a hole where I can curl up and die.