‘Truth is stranger than fiction,’ Rage says smugly, as if he’s just come out with an incredibly original, witty line.
‘All right,’ I mutter. ‘I’m getting it. You vaccinated thousands of kids every year to create an army of revitaliseds when the Apocalypse hit. So there must be, what, a
few hundred thousand of us, ranging in age from adults down to babies?’
‘Less,’ Dr Oystein says. ‘Many failed to revitalise, particularly those who had matured. Others were slaughtered during the assaults and their brains were eaten. Young children
who revitalised either failed to follow the signs to my safe houses or reverted due to not being able to feed.
‘We cannot be sure, but we think there are maybe a couple of thousand Angels worldwide, possibly less.’
‘You didn’t get a great return for all those sacrifices, did you, doc?’ Rage asks quietly.
‘No,’ the doctor says, even quieter.
‘And are there centres like this in different countries, full of Angels?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ Dr Oystein says hesitantly.
‘Something wrong with the others?’ I press.
‘No. But they are not as important as the Angels in London.’
I laugh shortly. ‘I bet your people say that to all the Angels.’
He shakes his head. ‘We are in a unique position. Several of the revitaliseds who came to us here asked to be relocated once I revealed what I am about to reveal to you.’
‘That sounds ominous,’ Rage growls but his face is alight with curiosity. I bet mine is too. I haven’t a clue what’s coming next or how it can be any worse than what
he’s told us already.
‘This is a universe of good and evil,’ Dr Oystein says. ‘I am sure you know from your lessons in school that for every action there is an equal and opposite
reaction.’
‘Quit with the dramatic build-up, doc,’ Rage huffs. ‘Give it to us straight.’
‘Very well,’ the doctor says as a rare angry spark flashes across his eyes. ‘Just as there is an ultimate force of good in this universe, there is also one of evil. To put it
into the terms I find easiest to understand, God is real but so is Satan.’
Rage’s smirk fades. I get a sick feeling in my stomach. Burke looks away.
‘When God revitalised me, it was an act of love,’ Dr Oystein says. ‘He did it because He wished to hand mankind a lifeline. He was obliged to punish us, but He wanted to give
us a fighting chance in the war to come.
‘If God had left me to my own devices, I would have remained a mindless revived. Other scientists would have continued their experiments and the airborne strain of the disease would have
been developed. When the ferocious undead arose, humanity would have lacked champions. The living need us. We can go where they can’t, fight in ways they cannot.
‘But there are laws which even God abides by. They are laws of His making, but if He ignores them, what use are they? A law which does not apply to all is no real sort of law.
‘The forces of good and evil do not engage one another directly,’ Dr Oystein continues. ‘Their followers clash all the time, humanity forever swaying between the extremes of
right and wrong, taking a positive step forward here, a negative step backward there. But God told me that if He or Satan ever takes a direct role in the affairs of man – if they interfere in
any way – then the other has the right to counteract that.’
‘Tit for tat,’ I whisper and Dr Oystein nods sombrely.
‘That is why God so rarely reaches out to us. He might often wish to, when He looks down and sees us in pain, but He does not dare, because if He extends a hand of love, Satan can stretch
forth a claw of hate.’
‘This is bullshit,’ I croak. ‘It’s madness.’ I seek out Burke’s gaze. ‘Isn’t it?’ I shout.
Burke only shrugs uncomfortably.
‘When God restored my consciousness,’ Dr Oystein says, raising his voice ever so slightly, ‘it allowed Satan to create his own mockery of the human form, a being of pure
viciousness and spite who could wreak as much damage as I had the power to repair.
‘I have sought long and hard for my demonic counterpart over the decades, but our paths never crossed. There were many occasions when I came close – and when he came close to
tracking me down and striking at me, for he loathes me as much as I fear him – but something always kept us apart. Until now.’
Dr Oystein crosses his arms and trains his sights on me. ‘You know evil’s true name, don’t you, B?’
‘Get stuffed,’ I whimper.
‘Don’t deny the truth. I can see the awareness in your eyes. Say it and spare me the unpleasant task. Please.’
‘What the hell is he –’ Rage starts to ask, but I blurt out the answer before he can finish.
‘
Mr Dowling!
’ I shout.
‘Yes,’ Dr Oystein says, shuddering. ‘The clown with the smile of death. The creator of mutants and executioner of innocents. A creature of immense power and darkness, who
relishes chaos and devastation, just like his grim master.
‘Mr Dowling is the earthly representative of the force of ultimate evil. With the sinister clown’s malevolent help, the Devil, as I call him, hopes to lead the zombies to victory and
plunge our world into eternal, tormented night.
‘The war between the living and the dead rages across the globe, but this is where it will be decided. London has been chosen as the key battleground. I set up base here for reasons I
cannot define, and Mr Dowling has done likewise. The war we wage in this city of the damned will be the most instrumental of the conflict.
‘We must take the fight to Mr Dowling,’ Dr Oystein says, and his face betrays the terror he feels. ‘He is our most direct and deadly nemesis. We will engage in a brutal, bloody
battle to the death. If we triumph, peace and justice will reign and mankind can resume its quest to win heavenly favour.
‘If we lose,’ he concludes, and he doesn’t need to drop his voice to make his sickening, dizzying point, ‘every single one of us is damned and this world will become an
outpost of Hell.’
To be continued . . .