Solstice: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse (5 page)

She wasn’t sure what had happened. She’d dozed on the sofa in front of a recorded episode of
Being Human
and was happily dreaming of becoming Mitchell’s next victim when Davis awakened her. He stood over her with his Luke Skywalker light saber. The pale blue light brightened his small face like an
Avatar
alien.

“Aiden’s sick, Mummy.”

She sprang to a sitting position. “Sick? Is he throwing up?”

“No. He’s breathing weird. It woke me up. When I looked at him, he looked… scary.”

“Scary?” Tana’s mouth felt dry. “Were you holding that thing? The blue light makes everything look scary.”

“Just come on, Mum.” Davis took her hand and pulled her from the sofa, down the hallway and toward their bedroom, the light saber a beacon in the shadowy apartment.

Aidan looked worse than scary. A weird burn-like rash ran along the side of his face. Fat, shiny blisters were already forming on his check. Tana touched his forehead and found it alarmingly chilled. He wouldn’t respond when she tried to rouse him. Increasingly panicked, she dialed the family doctor. Nothing. Next, she tried emergency. More nothing.

Her Fiat was in the shop, where it stayed more often than not. There was nothing else to do but take to the street and hope to catch a cab or a bus.

She considered a blackout of the city. How terrible would it be? The looting. The crime. It would be chaos. They’d be safer locked away inside the apartment, but with a sick kid, waiting was not an option.

Outside wasn’t what she expected. There was no chaos, no looting, no raping. There was just… nothing. The feeling of complete aloneness was more chilling than the sleet and the gloom. The crunch of the ice beneath their steps and the clicking of sleet hitting the unmoving cars and the sidewalk were the only sounds aside from the wind and their increasingly labored breathing. Tana’s lips and cheeks became numb, and her teeth chattered.

“Are you okay, Davis?” she asked.

“I’m cold.”

“Me, too, baby. Just keep going. We’ll be there soon.”

Someone screamed, and she flinched, nearly dropping Aiden. A teenaged boy dashed past, sobbing. He wove between a pair of stalled cars, then glanced back at Tana, his eyes wide with horror.

“Hide,” he hissed. Then he was gone.

Tana grabbed Davis’s shoulder and pressed him back against a wall, attempting to vanish into the shadows.

Next, a burly man lumbered into view, wearing a wife beater shirt and dirty, ill-fitting undershorts. No shoes. His big stomach swayed, peeking from beneath the shirt. Drool hung from his parted lips, frozen in mid-drip.

Once the man passed their hiding place, Tana stepped from the shadows and removed the blanket from Aiden’s face. Her stomach tightened. She wanted to cry or to call out for help, but what the hell good would it do?

“Aiden?” She kissed his icy forehead. “Hang in there. Mummy’s going to get help.”

She thought she heard a soft groan. Thank the angels above! He’s wasn’t gone, at least not yet.

“Mummy?” he whispered.

“Yes. Mummy has you.”

Aiden’s eyes slid open, but something was very wrong. His irises were nearly white, the same color as his pallid face. The hollows beneath his eyes were so dark they appeared like deep bruises on his smooth, baby-round face.

Then Aiden, her sweet baby, dropped his head back until his chin pointed to the sky, and he howled. He writhed in her arms until her hold on him loosened, and he slithered to the sidewalk. Davis stepped forward, took her hand, and pressed against her side, trembling. Together, they watched as the boy struggled to free himself from the tangles of the woolen blanket.

Once loose, he stood and glowered at her. He screamed again, and Davis screamed with him.

“Hush, babies. Shh,” Tana cried.

Aiden lunged, spittle spraying from his lips. He bared his teeth and screeched again, shrill and horrifying. Tana stepped backward, pulling her oldest child with her. “Aiden. Calm down, baby!”

Behind the mad child, a slumping figure approached. As the spindly shape drew nearer, Tana realized it was only an elderly man. Dressed in what would have normally been a smart gray suit and tie, he was covered in splattered blood.

“Run, woman! They’re monsters, now!”

Aiden spun, and in a flash, he sprang and was on the stranger. Blood flew, inky in the darkness as Aiden ripped out the man’s throat.

Tana watched for a moment, frozen with shock. Then, she came to her senses, realizing she had to get her other child to safety.

“C’mon. Quickly!” She gripped Davis’s small, cold hand and fled down the street. She didn’t dare look back. The gruesome sounds told her more than she would ever have wanted to know.

Chapter 7

Near Gothenburg, Sweden

Melanie, Oskar, and Sara sat in the dark, huddled together like children. The compartment had become uncomfortably warm and humid. The dank odor of anxious perspiration filled the air, and Melanie wondered if she would ever have the opportunity to be clean again.

There she was, within moments of being ripped apart by some enraged lunatics, and worried about a damned shower. The sounds of running feet had ceased. Outside the train, there were intermittent cries for help, but those were soon cut off. The silence was as unnerving as the screaming.

Melanie wondered what time it really was. The phone had to have been wrong. When she dared look out the slit at the edge of the window screen, there was no sign that daylight was near. It could’ve been midnight.

Oskar muttered a prayer, first in Swedish and then in English. When Sara asked why, he told her he wanted to make sure God understood. Melanie hadn’t believed in God since her parents’ deaths, but she kept that to herself. She drummed her bent knees with her knuckles—four left, four right. She had to make it the same on both legs, breathing in time, in through the nose and out through the mouth, as Tomas had shown her.

The silence stretched for longer than it had all night, and nearly dozing, she imagined it like a rubber band, pulled to the limit. The thunder of gunshots caused the rubber band to snap, and she jumped, suddenly very awake. The residue of last night’s drunk had vanished.

Sara cried out, and Melanie felt her scramble to her feet. Clumsily, she pitched forward, soft hands brushing Melanie’s shoulders before regaining her balance.

“Someone’s shooting,” Oskar whispered. “They’re all going insane.”

“They’ll kill us,” Sara whined.

Melanie opened her phone. Finding no bars, she wanted to weep. He’d promised to meet the train, but she had no idea how far away from the station they still were. Would he look for her? Thoughts of her parents and then of Tomas’s sweet face filled her mind. She would never see him again. And poor Christopher, stuck with the burden of Leila as his mother. Stern, unsmiling Leila.

More gunshots made her flinch. Someone’s foul breath warmed her face, and she turned her head.

“Shit! I wish they would kill us already and be done with it,” Oskar said.

“Shut the hell up, would you?” Sara snapped.

Funny, how tight situations changed people
. Soon, those two would be at each other’s throat. Melanie only wanted to break down in silence. Her chin trembled, and she fought the sob by biting her tongue. She tapped her fingers faster against her knees and squeezed her eyes closed against the blanket of black.

“Step from the train immediately! This is the authorities,” a voice blared, robotic and tinny. It sounded as if the person spoke through a bullhorn just outside their compartment. “This is the authorities. You must come out immediately. If you run, you will be shot on sight.”

Oskar rose to his knees and pulled the window screen back a fraction. “Shit! It’s the bloody rail police.”

Footsteps in the corridor and then someone pounded on the door. “Step out of the compartment now!”

Melanie opened her phone again and used the light to help them to the door.

“Don’t shoot. We’re unarmed,” Oskar shouted. “And we’re not lunatics.”

“You’re safe. Open up,” the voice responded.

Oskar unlatched the door and pulled it open. Immediately, a light shone directly into his face, and he shielded his eyes. A fully armed and armored guard stepped into the compartment, the bright light in one hand and a service pistol in the other. Another guard stood behind him, his gun up and ready.

The harsh light was aimed into Melanie’s eyes, and then Sara’s. Evidently satisfied, the officer commanded them to grab their bags. Security then ushered them along the narrow corridor where they fell in line behind a half-dozen other passengers making their way off the train.

Once off the train, Melanie took a long deep breath, allowing the crisp air to clean her lungs. She pulled her bag onto her shoulder and realized she’d left her coat on the train. Cursing silently, she shivered and rubbed her arms. Rail security flanked the few remaining passengers. The train tracks followed a stretch of narrow country road. Melanie spied only a single pair of headlights approaching.

“What’s happening?” Oskar asked.

The younger of the two guards responded with a shrug. “No clue. Power just died. And next thing we knew, everyone was going nuts.”

The other guard, an older, more serious fellow trained his light from side to side, obviously frightened. “I’ve radioed the terminal, but everything seems to be out. We’ll move back inside once I confirm everything is secure in there.”

“How secure is it out here?” Sara asked, her voice trembling.

As her eyes adjusted, she noticed she’d stepped in a pool of red. Blood stained her new leather boots. Gasping, she dragged her feet along the ice, attempting to clean them of the mess. It wasn’t working, but the blood was quickly forgotten as she turned and saw that bodies littered the snow. Some had obviously been shot, but others appeared to have been ripped apart.

Blood covered the slush like buckets of spilled crimson paint. Worse, though, were the parts and pieces—arms, a foot, internal organs she couldn’t identify. The head of the fat woman they’d watched from the window of the train lay several yards ahead, her lips peeled back in a permanent scream.

Melanie pressed her palm to her lips. Black spots danced before her eyes, and her stomach flip-flopped. Oh, hell, she was going to pass out. Her world spun drunkenly, and her knees turned to jelly.

Suddenly she was crushed against a broad, warm body. “Melanie? It’s Tomas.”

She opened her eyes and stared up into Tomas’s worried face. Everything would be all right now. She melted against him, and he held her as she broke down into exhausted tears.

Chapter 8

London, England

The expressions of pure terror on their faces told Stu the boy and woman weren’t mad, but were fleeing something deeper in the shadows of the streets. As the woman passed, he plunged his hand through the narrow opening between the automatic doors of the supermarket and grabbed her. “Here! Get in.”

The woman screamed and tried to pull away, but he held fast to the sleeve of her coat. The child tugged at her other arm, frantic.

“Calm down, dammit! You’ll be safer in here,” Stu said. “We’re not sick.”

Josh forced the doors wide to allow the woman and the boy inside, then with the help of a fit older man, closed it again. The older fellow twisted the key in the lock and stepped back from the windows.

After a moment, the woman’s pursuer emerged from the darkness. He was a tiny version of the boy who’d just slipped in from the street, thin, biracial, and pretty. His SpongeBob pajamas were covered with dark stains, and Stu knew immediately what had caused them.

The child stepped forward and pressed his hands to the front entrance, leaving bloody smears on the glass. His pale eyes appeared luminescent in the darkness. “Mummy! Let me in. I want to kiss you.”

The woman stepped toward the door. “I’m coming, baby,” she said, weeping.

Stu pulled her back. “No. He’s sick. We can’t let him in here.”

The woman flailed out of his grasp. “Screw you! Who the hell are you to tell me to lock out my own child?”

Ashley stepped forward. “Ma’am, he’s not your child anymore.”

The woman turned on her. “What? How can you say that?’

“We’ve seen it. Monsters. Somehow, they turn… bad,” Brett said.

The woman pressed her hands to the window in a parody of touching the hands of the boy through the glass. “Bad? He’s my son. He’s never been bad.”

“Where did the blood come from?” Stu asked.

The woman opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She turned away from the window.

The child outside shrieked and pounded his filthy hands on the glass. “Mummy! Don’t, Mummy. I want to play.” He began to cry and tears of blood ran from the rims of his large, white eyes. In a moment, his pallid face was decorated with crimson stripes. “Can’t Davis come out and play? Mummy?”

The woman closed her eyes tight, and Stu gently touched her arm. He was three thousand miles away from his own child and with no communication. Thinking about that made him sick to his stomach, and he prayed his daughter was all right. Maybe at home, all was well, and life went on as usual.

The woman whispered, “I can’t do that, baby. Davis can’t play right now.”

“I want Davis! I want to taste Davis!” The child moved a step back from the glass, and for a moment, it seemed he was preparing to ram his way through. Stu pulled his students back, ready for anything.

Then, the child convulsed, his head whipping from side to side, until his features became a blur, like a painting smeared into something unrecognizable. The crimson tears flew like mist, splattering the glass entrance. He stopped abruptly and focused on his mother again. His mouth dropped open, and another shriek poured out. Stu winced at the shrill sound as it shredded the night.

But the boy’s mouth did not stop opening. Horrified, Stu watched the kid’s mouth stretch wider and wider, until the corners of his full lips split. It looked as though his jaw had come unhinged like a snake ready to swallow a rabbit.