Zombie Business

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

'Schlesinger-10,' I croak, holding the tube up to the light, watching the liquid as it splashes around inside the vial.

I never wondered what it would be like to hold the lives of every living human in your hands. Now that I'm in that position, I find it absolutely terrifying. I know I can't do any damage to the tubes. I'd have to deliberately uncork the first, slide out the second, uncork that, then slip out and uncork the vial in order to unleash the hounds of havoc. But I still feel sick at the nightmarish thought of the tube slipping through my fingers and somehow smashing open. I guess it's like doing a bungee jump you're safely attached, but try telling that to your nat you know ural instincts when you're about to hurl yourself off the side of a cliff.

Reverently, knowing I'm not worthy of such a grave responsibility, I lower the tube and look for a place to store it. But there are no pockets in my wedding dress. I could carry it but I want both hands free. So where...?

With a grisly snicker, I stick the tube inside my stomach and root around until I find some pliant flesh to wedge it into. I grit my teeth as I work the tube firmly into place, taking no chances, not worrying about the discomfort. When I'm satisfied, I shake myself roughly and jump up and down. The brief burst of exercise almost makes me faint, but the tube doesn't budge. It's secure.

I feel like an expectant mother, only, instead of car rying a baby, I'm carrying hope for the entire world. If I can get this to Dr Quinn, the stalemate will be broken and he can release a sample of Clements-13, bringing the curtains crashing down on every and mutant on the face of the planet. zombie

'So, no pressure,' I giggle.

Then I put all humorous thoughts aside, turn my back on the safe, limp into the corridor and make slow, sluggish, excruciating break for freedom. my

Although most of the access points to the secret tun nels are situated in Mr Alfie's base, a few open out into the area beyond. He wanted to be able to skirt the main complex in case it ever fell into the hands of his enemies. As crazy as he is, he likes to cover as many angles as possible.

I absorbed all sorts of memories from the clown, more than I realised at the time. I knew that I was confirming the location of his vial of Schlesinger 10, but I also tapped into recollections of countless trips that he's made through his underground domain. My mind's full of maps and ways out of

Assessing that information, I try to come to a deci sion - should I head straight for the surface or stick to the shadows for a while?

The nearest exit is through Whitechapel Station. It wouldn't take me long to reach it, even in my current shuffling state. I could climb up through the station and lose myself on the streets.

Whitechapel would be my first preference, except I know from Mr Alfie's memories that the station is always carefully guarded by his forces, along with the one at Aldgate East. The guards might have been pulled from their posts to attend the wedding, but I can't count on that. It's unlikely that the mutants would have left themselves completely open to a sneak attack.

The alternative is to make use of the various tun nels and link up with the Tube line further west, pop up out of a random station. In its favour - the mutants can't patrol every stretch of tunnel, and they won't know which area of the city to focus the search on once they discover I'm missing. Against I'll have to spend a lot of time in darkness, meaning I might not see them coming if they happen to chance upon me, and it will be hard, probably impossible, to outrun them if they stumble across my trail before I make it to the streets.

I spend a couple of minutes weighing up the pros and cons, figuring it's time worth investing. In the end I decide I'd be safer in the dark. I don't like it down here, but just as it would be hard for me to see any hunters coming, it would be equally difficult for them to spot me going.

Having made up my mind, I first head in the direction of Whitechapel. I'm aware that I've left a trail of blood, and I'm hoping to throw off my track ers by continuing east for a spell, to make them think that I'm aiming for the easiest way out. I'm probably being naive - chances are they have mutants who've been trained to detect the subtlest of scents - but I've nothing to lose by trying.

After several minutes, I stop in the glow of a light and start ripping the remains of the lower lengths of my wedding dress into strips. It was such a lovely dress, and I hate having to wreck it, but it was already in tat ters after the attack by the babies. The veil is missing, huge holes have been torn or bitten out of the mat erial, its colour is now more crimson than white in most places.

I ball up some of the strips and press them deep into my flesh where I'm bleeding worst, plugging the gashes, stemming the flow as best I can. I wince as the material bonds with my flesh, sticking to it like an extra layer. As the balls absorb my blood and swell within me like flowers in bloom, I loop more of the makeshift bandages round my feet and ankles so that they'll hopefully soak up the drops trickling down my legs.

I study myself when I'm done. Far from perfect - I'd never have made a nurse - but it will have to do. The most important thing is that the vial has remained steady within its nesting place. My move ments haven't shaken it loose by even a fraction. That's good to know going forward, means I don't have to stop to check on it too often.

I listen intently for a minute, trying to detect whether the hunters are already on my trail. I hear shuffling sounds close by and stiffen, thinking my number is up. But then I spot a couple of rats gnaw ing on an old bone and I relax. I suppose I should be grateful that the rodents don't attack me-1 I'd make a tasty snack for a big enough group of them. If I was human, they'd probably take me down, wounded and bleeding as I am, but zombie blood must not appeal to them.

When I'm sure that there are no mutants lurking nearby, waiting to spring upon me the second I turn my back, I take a deep breath - pointless since I don't have any lungs, but it's a force of habit - swing a left and arc back upon myself, heading west, deeper into the twisting network of tunnels.