The Dead (15 page)

‘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!’

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 …’