Текст книги "The Dead"

Автор книги: Charlie Higson

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

20

They’d stopped on a long straight stretch of open road with good views in all directions. If anyone approached them, they would be clearly visible.

Greg rationed out food from the cardboard boxes stacked at the back of the bus, moaning all the while that with all the newcomers there was less to go round. Jack wondered why he’d picked them up in the first place if he didn’t want them on board, but he reckoned Greg just wanted to make sure everyone knew who was in charge.

It wasn’t as if their lunch was exactly five stars, either. It was bags of crisps and Cheestrings mostly, with some stale Nutri-Grain, although Jack noticed that Greg had his own separate food supply that he kept in a cool box stashed behind his seat. He and Liam sat up front eating alone.

Jack was sitting halfway back with Chris Marker, who was eating a bag of crisps while reading his book. Jack was happy with the arrangement. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to think either, so he was reading the information on the back of his own crisp packet. He was surprised by how much there was to read.

He was just working out the energy values when he became aware of someone standing next to him.

He heard a meow and looked up. Frédérique was holding her cat-carrying box at Jack’s eye level and he could see the tabby cowering suspiciously at the far end, its eyes wide and staring.

‘You all right?’

Frédérique nodded, the curtain of hair round her face opening for a moment. Jack got a glimpse of eyes as wide and frightened as the cat’s.

‘Have you got some food for her?’ he asked. ‘Him? Is it a male or a female?’

A voice came from behind the hair, so quietly that for a second or two Jack thought he’d imagined it.

‘Female.’

‘Have you got some food for her?’

Frédérique nodded again.

‘What’s her name?’

‘Dior.’ A whisper.

‘Like the perfume?’

Frédérique shrugged.

Jack knew she wanted something, but couldn’t work out what. At least she was speaking, though, coming out of her shell a little. It was a start. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She’d tell him in her own time what it was she wanted.

At last she spoke again.

‘Dior must come out of her cage for a minute.’

‘Really?’

‘She needs to go to the bathroom.’

Jack’s smile grew wider before he could stop himself.

‘She needs a crap?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well. OK. Let’s go outside. But won’t she run off?’

‘I don’t think so. She is scared, though.’

Jack got up. We’re all scared, he thought, but said nothing. He led Frédérique up the aisle towards the front.

As he got nearer to Greg he saw that he and Liam had better food than the others. Proper cheese, crackers, a tin of cold beans, even some apples and slices of smoked meat. He watched as Greg offered some meat to Liam. Liam shook his head, concentrating on the handful of crackers he was munching his way through.

Jack paused and put a hand on Frédérique’s arm. He didn’t want to interrupt and wind Greg up any more. He waited for his moment, listening to their conversation.

‘You gotta get some protein inside you,’ Greg was complaining to Liam.

‘Cheese is protein.’

‘Meat is better.’

‘I’m all right. I don’t want it. I don’t like it.’

‘Go on – it’s good for you. Look at me. I eat well and I’m healthy. You want to be like me, don’tcha?’

‘I am healthy, Dad.’

‘You won’t stay healthy if you don’t eat proper balanced food.’

Greg noticed Jack and stopped talking. Jack stepped forward.

‘We want to get off the bus.’

Greg went back to his food.

‘You’re walking from here?’ he asked.

‘No. We just need to go outside for a minute.’

‘Way too risky, pal. Don’t even think about it.’

‘Oh, come on – we can see fine from here. If anyone comes, we’ll get straight back on.’

‘What d’you want to get off for anyway? Fresh air?’

‘The cat needs a dump.’

Greg laughed, like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

‘I’ll tell you what we can do with that cat,’ he said when he’d calmed down and taken control of himself. ‘We’ll skin him, gut him, butcher him and make him into some nice kebabs.’ He finally turned back round to look at the two of them. ‘How does that sound?’

Frédérique gasped and held the box more tightly to her chest. This made Greg laugh even harder.

‘Only joking, love. Did you see her face, Liam? What a picture. But, seriously, that moggy’s gonna be more trouble than it’s worth. You can’t get sentimental over pets, love, not since what’s happened.’

‘The cat’s all she’s got,’ said Jack. ‘Bit like you and Arsenal.’

Greg peered at Jack, trying to work out if he was making fun of him. In the end he gave him the benefit of the doubt.

‘Point taken,’ he said, and opened the door.

‘You want to go out there in the rain, that’s fine with me. But the first sign of any trouble I’m pulling up the drawbridge. The door closes and stays closed. Savvy?’

21

Jack and Frédérique stood by the coach in the drizzle. The rain had died down a little. There was just a general dampness in the air rather than actual drops falling. It had got colder and Jack shivered. He watched as Frédérique squatted down and put her cat box on the ground. She carefully opened the front then reached in to take hold of the cat. She eased her out and held her under her chin, stroking her and whispering soothing words into her twitching ear. Then she sneezed. Just her luck if she was allergic to cats.

Jack looked along the stretch of empty road ahead. They’d gone on a very roundabout route since leaving Rowhurst and he wasn’t sure whether they were any nearer to London than when they’d started.

Ed came down off the bus, zipping up his jacket.

‘What are you doing?’

Jack nodded towards Frédérique. ‘Cat needs a crap.’

Ed smiled. ‘Feels good to be out of there,’ he said, and glanced back to make sure Greg couldn’t hear them.

‘It’s a bit claustrophobic, if you know what I mean. Greg’s kind of … Well, he fills the space.’

‘I hate guys like that,’ said Jack. ‘Always trying to throw their weight around. He’s a bully.’

‘Yeah, but remember we’d all be dead without him. Those teenagers were –’

Jack shot Ed a look and nodded towards Frédérique, who was gently putting the cat down into the long grass by the side of the road. The girl was terrified; there was no point in making it worse by reminding her of how close she’d come to being killed.

Ed mouthed ‘sorry’ and Jack went over to Frédérique. The cat was looking around nervously, then she stretched her back and darted quickly under a bush where she sat looking back at Frédérique.

‘You’re sure she won’t run off?’

‘I have food. She will come back for food.’ Frédérique fished a small can of cat food out of her coat pocket and popped the lid.

‘I did not want to open it on the bus. I was worried that if anyone sees it they will take it. It is food, n’est-ce pas?’

‘I’ll make sure they leave you alone,’ said Jack. ‘That’s your food – you can do what you like with it.’

‘Thank you. I will put it in her cage when she is finished.’ She said something to the cat in French. The cat checked out her surroundings once more then walked daintily on stiff legs out from under the bush, tiptoeing a little deeper into the sodden greenery of the verge.

Greg was watching the three of them through the window.

‘Look at those idiots,’ he said to Liam and chuckled. ‘They ain’t even got the sense to be scared.’

‘Is it all right to be scared, Dad?’ Liam asked quietly.

‘A little, son, just a little. Keeps you on your toes.’

‘D’you get scared?’

‘Course I do. Wouldn’t be human otherwise, would I? But you don’t have to be scared, Liam, ’cause I’m always gonna be here to look after you.’

‘I try, Dad. I try not to be. But I ain’t like you, really. You’re a man.’

Greg put an arm round Liam and gave him a bear hug.

‘Listen, Liam, everything I’m doing, I’m doing for you. I sound like that soppy song, don’t I? But it’s true. I don’t really care about me, whether I live or die, quite frankly, and before you go getting all down in the mouth I don’t aim to be kicking the bucket any time in the near future, OK? Not while I’ve got you to look out for. My job now is the same as it’s always been, since the day you was born. To protect you. To stop you from being scared. To put my arms round you. It’s a bad world out there, son, and without me you’d be dead in five minutes.’

‘I know, Dad.’

‘So you have to listen to me, do as I say. If anything was to happen to you, I’d go mad. Maybe that’s what’s keeping me healthy, eh? My love for you.’

‘Could be, Dad.’

Greg rubbed the top of Liam’s head with his fist.

‘You’re a good boy. I’m so proud of you, son. So proud. You’re all I live for.’

Ed stood on the lowest step of the bus to get a better vantage point. He was nervous being out here, but he’d wanted to keep close to Jack, even though it was obvious that Jack didn’t really want him around. He was trying to talk to Frédérique and Ed felt like a spare part. Maybe if he kept watch he might appear to be useful.

Jack was watching the cat as she rooted around among the plants.

‘Listen, Frédérique,’ he said. ‘I know you’ve been through some bad stuff, we all have. But … if you want to talk about any of it, you know, it might help.’

‘I am scared,’ she said bluntly.

‘We’re all scared,’ said Jack.

‘No. You do not understand. You cannot understand. I am so scared.’

‘I do understand. Since your dad died …’

‘Yes.’ Frédérique gripped Jack’s forearm. ‘Yes. You are right. Since my father died I am scared.’

‘But we’re all together now, we’re safe on the bus. I’ll look after you. Greg will look after you. We’ll all look after you. Look, even Ed’s keeping an eye out for us.’

‘Why is Greg not sick?’

‘I honestly don’t know.’ Jack shook his head. ‘He doesn’t know either. Maybe the sickness doesn’t affect everyone.’

Frédérique smiled for the first time, and it was as if the clouds had lifted and the sun was beaming bright and warm. Her whole face changed and Jack was with another person.

She looked very beautiful when she smiled.

‘Yes,’ she said, nodding her head. ‘Maybe not everyone will get sick. Maybe everything will be all right.’

‘You see,’ said Jack. ‘We don’t need to give up hope.’

‘Yes.’ Frédérique was madly nodding, smiling and crying at the same time. Then there was a gust of cold wind and she stifled a small cough, anxious not to alarm the cat.

‘So, how did you end up at Rowhurst?’ Jack asked. ‘I mean, I know your dad was there and everything, but …’

‘My mother she still was living in France. In Paris. But my father is walk out on her. They argue all the time. I was at school in Paris but I miss my papa. My mother, she was one of the first to get sick. She send me to England to be with my papa. She thought I would be safer here. She thought maybe because England is an island it will be better. I came in the Eurostar. It was very difficult when I arrive. To get from London to Rowhurst take me a long time and when I arrive is very bad. Papa, he try to keep me safe, we hide in the flat, keep the curtains closed all day, but … then … Yesterday, he is go out and not come back. I know he is sick. I have seen the same symptômes …? How you say symptôme?’

‘Symptom,’ said Jack. ‘It’s the same word.’

‘Yes. The same. I see that Papa is sick like Mama. That I think is why he leave me. He did not want to hurt me. But I don’t see him again. Then you come. You save me, Jack.’

Jack could see that Frédérique was going to lose it again so he put his arms round her and held her. He felt pretty rotten that he’d been the one to kill her father, but he’d had to do it, and it wasn’t like the man had even really been human any more. He wondered if he would ever be able to tell her. Now was definitely not the time. Frédérique felt warm and damp, and very thin. She was trembling in the cold. He stroked her back, looking over her shoulder.

It was a little while before he realized the cat was nowhere to be seen.

‘Dior?’ he said, breaking away from Frédérique. ‘Where is she?’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Frédérique. ‘She is there. But she needs to be private or she will not do what she needs to do.’

‘I know how she feels,’ said Jack with a lopsided grin.

His grin faded as Ed called out to them.

‘People!’

Way off down the road in the direction they had come Jack could see dark shapes moving.

‘Grown-ups?’ he asked.

‘Reckon so.’

‘Are they coming our way?’

‘Far as I can tell.’

Jack checked the road. He could just make out some distant figures. He turned back to Frédérique. ‘We need to go. Get the cat, can you?’

‘She is not finish. She will not come until she is finish.’

‘All right, we’ve got a few minutes, but if Greg sees those bloody zombies he might leave without us.’

‘We have time. They are far away.’

‘Far away but getting nearer,’ Ed said, shielding his eyes from the drizzling rain.

Frédérique bent down and put the opened tin of food in the carrying-box. Then she started making noises to entice Dior back towards it. Jack could still see no sign of the cat. His eyes flicked from the patch of vegetation to the road, from the road to the bushes, back and forth.

No sign of the cat in one direction – people growing steadily closer in the other.

‘Come on,’ Ed urged, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

‘Stand in the way of the door,’ Jack said quietly. ‘So Greg can’t close it.’

‘OK.’ Ed did as he was told.

‘Come on, puss,’ said Jack, joining Frédérique.

‘Non.’ Frédérique pushed him away. ‘She will not come if you are there.’

‘If she doesn’t come soon, we’ll have to leave her.’

‘I won’t leave her. She was Papa’s cat. I gave her to him when she was a kitten. The last thing he said before he leave me is look after her, feed her, and now he is gone she is all that I have left of him.’

‘Where is she, though? I can’t see her.’

‘She is there.’

‘Where?’ Jack wanted to say a lot of things. That Dior was just a cat. That their own lives were more important. That the cat would probably be better off trying to fend for itself in the wild …

But he didn’t say any of them. He just stood there getting damp and scared.

‘Are you sure she’s there?’ he asked, trying to hold it together.

The approaching people were close enough now that he could make out individuals. They were definitely not kids. Men and women, mothers and fathers, about twenty of them.

It was only a matter of time before Greg saw them.

‘Frédérique, you’ll have to leave her. I can’t see any sign of her. She’s probably run off.’

Frédérique made some more cooing noises. ‘She is there, but she is nervous.’

‘She’s not the only one. Here, puss-puss-puss … if you can see her, can’t you just go over and grab her?’

‘No – if I try it and she is scared she might then run away.’

‘Come on … We’ll have to leave her.’

‘Oi!’ Greg shouted from the coach. ‘All aboard, who’s coming aboard. There’s some movement down the way.’

‘We’re just coming,’ said Jack. ‘Hold on.’

‘Get out of the doorway so I can close it.’

‘No. It’s all right.’ Ed sounded rattled. ‘I’m keeping watch. Those people are still a long way off.’

‘You saw them already, didn’t you? Why didn’t you say nothing?’

‘They’re miles away.’

‘Whatever – I ain’t taking no risks. Now get out of my doorway so’s I can close up.’

‘Here, puss-puss-puss …’

‘Move it!’

‘They just need to get the cat,’ said Ed.

Greg swore, calling the cat all manner of filthy names. Jack couldn’t help but agree with him. He didn’t want to get left behind for the sake of a pet, but he’d promised Frédérique that he’d stay with her.

‘Here, puss-puss …’

He looked down the road.

Oh, Jesus.

The grown-ups weren’t moving very fast but they were tramping steadily towards the bus, breathing through their mouths, rotten flesh hanging off their faces. The mother who seemed to be leading them had bulging black-rimmed eyes like hard-boiled eggs. She was completely bald with a patch of bare skull on the top of her head surrounded by a ring of boils.

‘Here, puss, come on, Dior, come on, cat …’

‘I can see her.’

‘Where?’

The cat’s face emerged from the long grass and it sneaked towards Frédérique, sensing the tense atmosphere.

Frédérique was smiling at her and rubbing her fingertips together, making a dry rustling sound.

Thank God.

There was a hiss and a rumble as Greg fired up the coach and the cat darted back into the bushes.

‘You arsehole!’ Jack yelled.

Frédérique wailed. ‘She is too scared.’

‘You’ve just got to try and grab her,’ said Jack. ‘We can’t wait. The coach is going to go.’

They heard Greg yelling from the driver’s seat.

‘Get out of the doorway or I’ll kick you out.’

‘Hang on,’ Ed shouted back. ‘They’ve nearly got it.’

‘I can drive with the door open, you know!’

‘Frédérique!’ Jack snapped. ‘You’ve got to do something!’

22

Frédérique could just see Dior’s tail sticking up out of the grass. The poor cat was spooked by the voices, by the noise. If Frédérique had only been left alone to do this by herself she could have got her by now.

How long did she have?

She looked down the road for the first time and her breath caught in her ribs.

The silent mass of adults was almost there. They were bloated by disease, their skin tight, cheekbones massive, lips fat and pulled back from their teeth, as if they’d all had bad plastic surgery. Some of them were completely naked, their sagging flesh swaying from side to side as they staggered onwards.

‘Please, Frédérique.’ The boy, Jack, sounded like he was going to cry.

Frédérique felt awful. She didn’t want to be responsible for anything bad happening.

All right, she told herself. It was just a cat.

Just a cat.

Papa would not have wanted her to die because of it.

She would try to pick Dior up. If she ran off, she would leave her behind. That was the only thing to do. Without thinking any more she slid forward, quickly but smoothly, trying to make no sudden movements. Dior stared at her warily, ready to jump aside. At the last moment Frédérique bent down and made a grab for her.

Dior jumped.

Too late.

Frédérique’s hands closed around her. The cat struggled and kicked, gave a wild meow but she was held fast.

Frédérique ran to Jack who was holding the carrying-case ready.

She stuffed Dior in and Jack closed the gate.

‘Get on the bus!’ Ed shouted. ‘Hurry!’

The coach was moving. Ed leant out and hauled Frédérique aboard. The coach picked up speed. Jack threw the cat box to Ed who caught it neatly and dumped it inside.

‘Come on, Jack!’

Frédérique stood up and watched out of the window.

Jack was sprinting, his feet slapping on the wet tarmac, his clenched teeth bared in pain and desperation. He stretched out his hand. The coach was pulling away from him.

‘Come on!’ Ed shouted.

Someone pushed past Frédérique, the big boy, Bam. He took hold of Ed’s arm.

‘Lean out!’

Ed swung out over the road, fingers plucking at the air. Jack roared and threw himself at Ed who somehow managed to get his fingers round his wrist and pull him on to the step.

The three of them collapsed, Jack panting, Ed and Bam giggling hysterically.

‘That was bloody close,’ Greg snarled. ‘If any of you lot mess me about like that again, I will throw you off this bus and not look back. You got it?’

‘You could have waited.’ Jack’s voice was tight with cold fury.

‘You’re not the only people on this bus,’ Greg spat back at him. ‘And don’t you forget that. I don’t mean me. There’s other kids here. You put them all in danger back there. For a cat! A sodding cat!’

‘Nobody was hurt,’ said Ed, trying to calm the situation down. ‘Nobody was in any real danger.’

‘Sit down and shut up,’ said Greg.

Jack insulted Greg under his breath. Greg realized he’d said something but couldn’t tell what.

‘You’ve been on my case ever since you got on this bus,’ he said, changing up a gear. ‘And I am rapidly beginning not to like you, sonny boy. Not one little bit.’

‘The feeling’s mutual,’ Jack muttered, and went to sit further down the bus. Frédérique and Bam followed.

Ed watched them go. When it came down to it – Greg was right. Jack had put them all in danger. Ed was shaking uncontrollably. He’d been absolutely terrified and was still experiencing an adrenalin rush. It had taken every last scrap of courage he possessed to stay on that step as the grown-ups marched steadily nearer.

And when the coach had started to drive off …

He took a deep breath and swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat.

Greg swerved to avoid something in the road and Ed nearly fell over. He looked for somewhere to sit. All the younger kids had moved to the front of the coach and were sitting with Liam, as close to Greg as they could get. Despite all that had happened, they still looked to grown-ups to protect them and they found the big, powerful figure of Greg reassuring.

Arthur and Wiki sat across the aisle from Liam, Zohra and her little brother Froggie sat behind them, and, next to Liam, a good head taller than the rest of them, was Justin the nerd.

The next three rows of seats were filled by mad Matt and Archie Bishop and the other kids from the chapel. Ed settled down behind them, across from Kwanele and Chris Marker.

He smiled to himself.

The thing was, he hadn’t left the step, had he? He hadn’t let Greg close the doors. He’d pulled Jack on to the bus. This time he’d saved his friend.

This time he’d done the right thing.

At the front of the coach Arthur was talking as usual. He seemed to have an endless supply of words inside him, just waiting to come pouring out.

‘I don’t think they would have caught up,’ he was saying. ‘Those zombies were slow, not like the ones earlier, at The Fez – they were like superzombies, they were really quick, I wonder why some are faster than others, maybe the young ones aren’t as badly affected by the disease …’

‘I didn’t think zombies could run fast,’ said Froggie, a look of deep concern on his face.

‘Yes, well, technically they’re not zombies,’ said Justin.

‘What d’you mean?’ Froggie asked.

‘I mean they’re not zombies,’ Justin went on. ‘They’re not the living dead.’

‘Yes,’ said Wiki, ‘but a real zombie isn’t really dead either. Not a proper one. A proper zombie is someone who’s been given a drug to make them appear dead, and then they’re revived by the voodoo priest and they have to do his bidding.’

‘Well, they’re not those type of zombies either, then, are they?’ said Justin.

‘No.’

‘So they’re not any type of zombie.’

‘What should we call them, then?’ Arthur asked. ‘We have to call them something. I mean, most of them are grown-ups, we could call them grown-ups because there aren’t any normal grown-ups left, so we’d always know what we were talking about, or we could just call them mothers and fathers, you see like the Scared Kid did? That’s what I think of them as, mothers and fathers, though not my real mother and father, they weren’t zombies.’

‘These ones aren’t zombies, either,’ Justin insisted. ‘That’s what I’ve just been trying to explain.’

‘We could call them ghouls,’ said Wiki. ‘Or demons.’

‘What about ogres?’ Zohra suggested.

‘Or savages,’ said Froggie.

‘We could call them brutes,’ said Wiki.

‘I like zombies best,’ said Arthur.

‘Me too,’ agreed Froggie.

‘But they’re not zombies!’ Justin was getting quite angry.

‘I know they’re not,’ said Arthur. ‘But they act like zombies, and they walk like zombies, except the ones who can run, the fast ones, and they’re stupid like zombies, and they eat people like zombies.’

‘Are they a sort of vampire?’ said Froggie.

‘In a way,’ said Wiki. ‘They want human flesh, though, not just blood.’

‘Why do you think they do?’ said Froggie, as casually as if he was discussing the eating habits of a pet guinea pig.

‘That’s a very good question,’ said Justin. ‘We should make a proper study of their behaviour. If we can understand them more, we might be able to work out better ways of defending ourselves against them, maybe even defeating them. We’re cleverer than them, so that should give us the edge.’

‘We may be cleverer,’ said Wiki, ‘but they’re stronger.’

‘Clever beats strong every time,’ said Justin, pulling a small notebook and a biro out of his pocket. ‘So let’s make a pact. We’ll use our brains to work out the best way to survive. We’ll be a brains trust.’

‘What’s a brains trust?’ asked Froggie.

‘It’s like a think tank.’

‘What’s a think tank?’

‘If we don’t even know what it means,’ said Arthur, ‘I can’t see us being the finest minds in the world.’

‘Well, we’re cleverer than that lot out there,’ said Justin.

‘You mean the zombies?’

‘They are not zombies!’

‘They’re sickos,’ Greg growled from the driver’s seat. ‘That’s what I call them. Sickos.’

‘Yes,’ said Justin, smiling. He wrote the word down in his book and underlined it. ‘Sickos. That’s a very good term for them. From now on they’re officially not zombies, they’re sickos.’