Zombie Business

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

After a while, I move out of the system of secret tun nels into old, disused sewers, the walls crumbling, the floors long dried all except up, relics of the past, forgotten by the mutants who discovered them when scouting around to find the perfect location for their base. Judging by the complete silence, I think even the rats and insects of London don't know about these ancient arteries.

It's pitch-black here and I have to feel my way along. There's no way up to the streets from these abandoned sewers at least none that Mr Dowling is aware of- but they link with the Tube lines in several places, offering me a choice of exits when I've advanced further.

I think a normal, living person would be afraid if they found themselves in my position. The isolated sewers have a ghostly feel to them, and it's easy to imagine the spirits of the past drifting around me as I stumble ahead, or monsters like the Minotaur roaming freely, looking for victims.

But, seeing as how I'm an undead monster myself, I have nothing to fear. In fact, despite my earlier mis givings, I'm starting to feel at home in the ragged remains of my torn, bloodstained white dress, with all my injuries and disfigurements, I could easily pass for an otherworldly spectre. If I didn't have a price less cargo to deliver, this would be a good place to rest up, wait for my senses to dissolve, then crash around in for the next few thousand years. I couldn't do any harm down here, lost to the world of the con scious, out of sight and out of mind.

As I'm edging forward blindly, thinking about maybe coming back here if I manage to complete my if

mission, I hear noises from far off. At least I think they're far away, but it's hard to be certain in this sub terranean realm, where the tunnels do strange things to sounds. Sometimes an echo carries for hundreds of metres, through a series of corridors, strong and vibrant. Other times a loud bang can be smothered by the hungry walls before it leaves a room.

I can't tell for sure whether the noises came from a near or distant source, but I know that they're voices. Angry voices.

I pause and listen cautiously, but the voices fade away a few seconds later, plunging me back into silence. I could wait for the sounds to come again, but that would be suicidal. I know what the voices mean. The alarm has been raised. The mutants are coming after me.

I'd like to push the pace - I'm conscious all the time of the precious vial nestled inside me, and the need to get it to Dr Oystein as quickly as I can but I can't go any faster. I'm too injured, too exhausted. Besides, I'm better off taking my time. Even if I was at my physical peak, I probably wouldn't risk pro ceeding at more than a crawl. In the darkness, with all manner of unseen obstacles to contend with, I'd be tripping over with does it, girl. every few rushed steps. Slowly

Voices carry to me every so often, shouts, grunts, hisses. But there are never faces to go with the voices.

The mutants don't cut across my trail, and I continue to huff and puff along in the dark.

Until suddenly I spot the light of a torch coming towards me. By the glow, I see that I'm in a long tunnel, one of the old, decrepit sections of the sewers. The light is coming from a smaller, more recently constructed tunnel, ahead and to my left. I freeze and look for a hiding place, but there are no niches that I can duck into, no piles of debris to hide behind.

Fear lends me an unexpected burst of energy and I hurry to the opening of the side tunnel. As the person holding the torch draws close, I press myself against the wall, trying to disappear into the shadows, hoping I won't be noticed if the mutant - it has to be one of Mr Dowling's team, it couldn't possibly be anyone else focuses their attention dead ahead, where the beam is brightest.

Two mutants step out into my stretch of tunnel. The one holding the torch is a tall his face cov guy, ered in the scabs and sores common to his kind. He sweeps the beam left then right. I'm almost directly behind him. For once I'm delighted that I don't have lungs. It means I don't have to hold my breath. This is ridiculous,' the shorter mutant snorts,

"We're never going to find her. It's like-'

'If you say "looking for a needle in a haystack" again. Glenn, I'll throttle you,' the mutant with the torch snaps.

'Well, it is,' the guy called Glenn complains.

"Yeah.' his partner sighs. 'But Mr Dowling will know if we simply go through the motions. Kinslow told us to keep searching until we're recalled. I'm not going to ignore a direct order, not from that guy.'

'Me neither, Glenn says. 'But I think we'd be better off if the lot of us gathered round County Hall and blocked every approach. She's bound to head there, isn't she? It would make more sense than wast ing our time down here."

'Who made you the genius on the firm?' the mutant with the torch laughs. He starts down the tunnel in the direction that I've come from. 'Don't worry, I'm sure Mr Dowling or Kinslow has thought of that too. We'll be packed off there if we don't find her. But she can't have made it out of the tunnels yet, so we might as well cast around for her while she's on our turf, just in case."

The dejected Glenn follows after his friend and my

fingers clench into triumphant fists. 'I suppose, Glenn concedes. 'But I was enjoying myself at the party. We could have sunk a few more beers before we -'