Solstice: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse (4 page)

To make things easier, Tomas had played with Christopher, singing Springsteen and the Beatles very badly, as they went along the icy shoulder of the road back to their house. The night had been incredibly clear.

Another bark of the dog and Tomas remembered Bo had run away earlier. He sat up, groggy and still a bit drunk. Beside him, the bed was empty. Leila had moved to Melanie’s old room, insisting Melanie would have to take the sofa in the office during her visit.

The dog pawed at the front door, his claws scraping the glass and wooden frame. Tomas hurried downstairs, sliding his hand along the banister to keep from falling and killing himself in the darkness, and opened the door. Bo bounded in, and Tomas kneeled to greet him. He hugged the shepherd against his chest and rubbed the dog’s ears.

“Good boy,” he said, thrilled the dog was home and even more thrilled he could wake Christopher in the morning with news that Bo was home.

The animal’s fur was icy, and flakes of snow glistened on the end of his ears and the tip of his tail. He smelled of wet dog.

Tomas groped along the wall until he felt the light switch. He flicked it up. Nothing. Down. Nothing. He glanced around. The kitchen was completely dark. Even the digital numbers on the microwave were gone, as were the ones on the refrigerator and oven. The electricity was out. It was probably those solar storms the news was talking about, he reasoned. Hopefully, things would be back to normal shortly.

Groping in the darkness, he fed the dog a bowl of kibble and then went back to the front window and peered outside. The world was incredibly silent; even the low clouds didn’t appear to move. He blinked hard, and the dizziness of last night’s drink subsided slightly. The stars glistened like tears against a swirling pale blue velvet of polar lights.

It was early morning, but for some reason, things just didn’t seem right. Tomas pressed his forehead against the glass of the front door, the iciness soothing against his skin. He chewed his upper lip and considered whether he was still dreaming some silly drunken dream.

Bo happily pranced around his legs, glad to be inside and away from the cold. He nudged Tomas’s hand with his chilled muzzle and then took a couple of bites out of the dish.

Tomas found his wristwatch on the kitchen counter and squinted at it in the dimness.

7:15.

That couldn’t be right. Perhaps the thing had died. He shook it and looked at it again.

7:15.

He pressed the small button, and the face flashed brightly in the darkness. The stopwatch came on 45, 46, 47…

Dread uncoiled in the pit of his belly, and he went to the front window and looked out into the darkness again. No change.

He went to his office and found his cell phone nearly dead on the charger. The time matched his watch. He was just scrolling through to retrieve Melanie’s number when the phone vibrated. The sudden shock of the buzz against his hand caused him to jump before he looked down to see Melanie’s photo.

“Hi, Melanie? Are you okay?”

“… stopped… far from… ation.”

“Wait. I can barely hear you, Melanie.”

“—urry, Tomas… they’re killing th–”

Her broken words chilled him to the bone.

“… so afraid… gone mad…”

“Melanie?”

The line was dead.

Chapter 5

London, England

A commotion outside the door brought Stu from a drunken stupor of a doze. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, snatched up his loafers, and went out into the chaos of the hallway. Overhead, the lights flickered several times, darkening and then illuminating the panicked faces of the hotel guests. A man and two women fled past, apparently running from a howling, wild-haired middle-aged woman dressed in a blood-splattered nightgown. Other guests, some terrified and others angry-looking, filled the narrow hall. Still carrying his shoes, Stu pushed his way through the crowd.

An overweight man in white briefs and black socks threw open the door to his room and barreled out. The electricity sputtered again, lighting his enraged face. His forehead looked severely burned.

Josh, Brett, and bookish, bespectacled Nathan stood outside their room, confused and groggy, dressed in only T-shirts and boxers.

“What’s going on? Some kind of attack, you think?” Brett asked as Stu approached.

“I don’t know.” The solar storms occurred to him, but that didn’t explain the pandemonium unfolding in the corridor.

The man in the white briefs put his head down and bolted toward Nathan. “Hey! Mister, what’s the matter with you?”

The guy’s response was to keep coming.

Just before the lunatic reached Nathan, Stu shoved the three boys back into their room, slammed the door, and then locked it.

“What was his problem?” Josh asked. “Somebody ought to whip his ass.”

Stu peered through the peephole. The crazy man threw himself against the door, making Stu jump. The guy pummeled the door with his fists, and then his head, screaming obscenities. His face split open and blood flew, obscuring Stu’s fisheye view.

“Get dressed,” Stu said. He sat down on the bed and pulled on his shoes. “Have you seen the girls?”

“N-no,” Josh said, pulling on a pair of jeans.

Stu pulled his cell phone from his jeans pocket. No service.

They dressed hastily, and Nathan began to sob, his breathing harsh and shrill. The man had stopped battering the door. A few seconds later, a gut-wrenching scream rose from outside.

The lights went out again and didn’t come back on.

“Oh, crap!” Nathan whispered.

“What time is it?” Brett said. “It’s gotta be close to morning.”

“It is morning.” Stu glanced at his watch.

“Where’s the sun, then, Mr. McCarthy?” Nathan asked between hitching sobs.

“Relax. It must be an eclipse or something.” Stu wanted the kids to calm down, but his own chest was tightening with panic. “We need to get the girls and go downstairs.” He opened the door a crack and looked out into the dark hallway. “I don’t see anything. Let’s go. Quick!” The darkness fell heavy around them, and Stu used his cell phone screen as a flashlight. They moved in a tight little group down to the next room.

Stu rapped on the door. “Ashley? Portia? It’s Mr. McCarthy.”

The door opened instantly and Ashley threw her arms around his neck. She trembled against him. He guided her back into the room, the boys following, and closed the door, again bolting it.

He could barely make out the girls in the inky blackness. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes.” Portia sounded almost calm. For a moment, Stu was envious of her strength. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but we need to get to the lobby and maybe find out what’s going on.”

The girls dressed, and Stu and the kids went into the deserted hall. “Stay together,” Stu said. Their breathing, Nathan’s sniveling, and their soft footfalls on the carpeted floor were the only sounds as they reached the stairs.

The stairwell was like a cave.

“Hold on to the handrail. Careful, now.”

Someone pushed against Stu’s back and stepped on the back of his shoe. “Careful, dammit.”

They moved across the shadowy lobby toward the registration area.

“Anyone here?” Stu called. “Hello?”

A faint whimper rose from behind the front desk. “We’re not crazy.”

Stu and the kids moved closer. Stu stepped around the desk, shining his phone ahead of him. In the corner, a young woman sat, her knees pulled up tight, and her arms folded over her head.

Stu touched her shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

The woman raised her head, the cell phone light casting a sick blue tint on her face. She grinned, revealing a mouthful of bloodstained teeth. “I don’t know. Am I?” Her eyes found his, and he jumped away from her. Her irises were a flat whitish gray.

“I went into the light,” the woman croaked. She awkwardly got to her feet, her head jerking, her chin nearly touching her bony shoulder. “And the light burned. See?” She drew her hair back from the right side of her face, displaying an oozing line of angry burns.

“Light? What light?”

“The white light. The flash. Just before everything went dark.” She stalked toward Stu, and he backed away, taking the light from the phone with him. He could no longer see her very well, and could just make out her twitching silhouette.

“I’m so hungry. Can I taste you?” She lunged, but Stu shoved her away easily. She weighed nothing.

“Run,” Stu yelled, and they took off, out into the dark street.

The cold was like a punch in the chest. None of them had brought a coat, and steam rose from their lips into the chilly air. The sidewalk was nearly empty, save for a few horrified people dashing about. The crazed hotel clerk followed, narrowing the distance despite the shattered high heel that caused her to lurch like a broken toy.

Stu and the kids rounded a corner and ducked into a tight alleyway. The stench of garbage permeated the air. They were behind a fish and chips takeout restaurant.

“Where do we go?” Josh asked, swallowing hard.

“Wait a minute,” Stu said. At the end of the alley, the clerk bounded past and vanished.

Nathan continued to weep, and his teeth chattered loudly.

“Why don’t you stop crying?” Portia snapped. “You’re going to give us away.”

“Stop being a bitch,” Josh countered.

“Enough.” Stu moved to other end of the alley and looked around. Two blocks away, a supermarket sat like a beacon on a stormy sea. The emergency generator must have kicked in. “There’s a market up there with lights. That means heat, also.”

Cautiously, they moved from the shelter of the two buildings and out into the open. Screams stabbed at the darkness, raising the hackles on the back of Stu’s neck.

In the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of movement, but before he could react, a figure emerged and took down scrawny Nathan. A small, gray-haired woman straddled the horrified teenager. Nathan clawed at her, trying in vain to push the petite granny away. But she seemed amazingly strong and pinned him to the pavement. Josh, Brett and Stu grabbed at her, pulling her away from Nathan.

“Is she on steroids?” Brett wheezed, struggling to free the old woman’s grip on his classmate’s shirt.

Stu punched her in the side of the head, but she ignored him and bent toward the whimpering boy. Josh drove his foot into her ribs, but he might as well have kicked a sack of flour.

“What’s she doing to him?” Ashley screamed.

The old woman chomped down on Nathan’s throat. Shaking her head, she tore away a chuck of pale flesh and blood fountained up, steaming in the cold, painting the front of Stu’s shirt in its sticky warmth.

Nathan’s cries dissolved into feeble, wet gurgles.

“There’s a bunch of people coming, Mr. McCarthy,” Portia cried, her voice shaking, “and they don’t look normal.”

Stu continued to tug at the insane granny, even as Nathan fell motionless in a pool of his own blood.

“We need to go,” Josh said. He pulled Stu away from the woman. “We can’t do anything for him now.”

Stu jerked away from the big boy. “Help me! This isn’t a damned video game. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m scared, Mr. McCarthy. That’s what’s wrong with me. Hurry. They’re coming!”

Stu glanced left. A dozen flailing, screaming shapes headed toward them.

Stu stumbled away from what was left of his most promising student. The old woman straightened up and then kneeled over the kid, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of his belly.

Stu and his students sprinted toward the white lights of the Tesco market. He only hoped they would be able to get inside before the mob of lunatics caught up to them.

Chapter 6

London, England

Tana was disoriented by the complete darkness. It was impossible to decide what time it was—what time it
really
was. She loved the sunrise, so where the hell was it? She was a true sun worshipper, often dragging her boys out into the rays despite their protests about leaving their precious video games. At times, she found even heavy cloud cover jarring. She found the current darkness went well beyond jarring and right into bloody creepy. With no clouds in the sky, stars twinkled like fairy dust.

The similarities to any kind of fairy tale ended there. The world had become mad, and there she was, a single woman alone with two kids, trudging down the street in the freezing cold. She had deadlines to meet. The lack of sun and an ill child would not get her out of meeting those deadlines. How would she pay the lease? How would she put food on the table?

The lack of light was an annoyance, at most. It was an eclipse, perhaps. She never paid attention to the news networks. In a while, things would settle back into their normal routine. Aiden had a touch of flu and would have to stay home from school. He was given to serious bouts of flu a couple of times a year.

She would buy a few extra days. Self-employed web designers often begged for time. Well, the poor ones did, anyway. She wasn’t quite poor, at least not yet.

What she wasn’t used to was the inability to get through on her cell phone. She’d tried the pediatrician several times, but each call was answered with the dull
beep beep
of a dead signal. She wanted to sit down and rest, but the few people who were out acted funny, running back and forth, huffing and grunting. Stopping might draw attention from one of those crazies.

Aidan was small for a six-year-old, but at the moment, he was as heavy as lead. Her bedroom-slippered feet padded along the litter-strewn sidewalks, robe billowing behind her like a cape. Three steps behind, ten-year-old Davis trotted along, dressed in his Chuckie-T sneakers, Spider Man pajamas, and heavy coat.

The lack of electricity was a bigger issue than the lack of sunrise. The apartment would be freezing when they returned. Luckily, the stove was gas, so they could eat, and she could have her coffee. Even the streetlamps were out. The sidewalks were gloomy, and it was beginning to sleet. She wished for some traffic. Headlights to cut the heavy darkness would be a small comfort.