Read Online Zom-B City by Darren Shan - Free Book Online Page A

be a rescue mission soon. I have to surrender, let the soldiers know I’m different, so their scientists can study me and maybe find a way to help other zombies think clearly.’
    Timothy hums. ‘The soldiers would, I imagine, be more inclined to execute you on sight.’
    ‘Yeah, I know. But I have to try. You can come along too if you want.’
    He smiles shyly. ‘I can’t leave. I belong here. I wish you luck, B, but your way isn’t mine. If they reject you, please bear in mind that you will always be welcome in my studio.’
    ‘Thanks.’ I chuckle drily. ‘I’d like to shake your hand, but . . .’
    He chuckles too. ‘One tiny scratch and I’d be history.’
    ‘If I do get out,’ I say hesitantly, ‘is there anything you need, anything I can send back to you?’
    He shakes his head. ‘Just tell people about my work.’ He gestures to the canvases. ‘We’ll all be here, the dead and I, waiting for the world to find us.’
    ‘What if they don’t want to find you?’ I ask. ‘People might not want to look at paintings of zombies, having seen so many of them in the flesh.’
    ‘They will,’ he insists. He walks over to the nearest painting, picks it up and gazes into the face of a monster. ‘This is the truth, who we are and where we’ve come from. People are always drawn to the truth. It demands that we acknowledge it and learn.’
    He closes his eyes and his face whitens.
    ‘In the end, stripped bare of everything else, as everyone is eventually, all we’re left with is the truth.’
    I don’t understand that, so I leave Timothy hugging his painting, eyes shut, lost to a world of madness or truth or whatever you want to call it.

FIFTEEN
    I’ve loads of time on my hands, so I decide to do a bit of sightseeing as I’m making my way towards the centre of the city, and cut south towards the river.
    I come to the Tower of London and stroll around the moat to the main entrance. Amazingly, I’ve never visited here before, not even on a school tour.
    As I approach the gate, I spot a Beefeater standing in the shadows of a hut. He growls and steps forward, squinting in the light. Part of his throat has been bitten out and green moss grows round the hole like a wayward beard. I let him examine the gap in my chest. Once he’s had a good look, I start forward, but he stops me.
    ‘Out of my way,’ I snap, but when I try to wriggle past, he pushes me back. ‘I’m one of you, idiot!’ I shout, and shove him aside.
    The Beefeater slams an elbow into the side of my head as I’m passing, catching me by surprise. I haven’t seen any zombies fighting with one another. I didn’t think I had anything to fear. Seems like I should have been more cautious.
    As I stagger around, the inside of my skull ringing wildly, the Beefeater grabs me and hauls me to the ground. He pins me with his knees and makes a howling, gurgling sound before baring his teeth and leaning forward to chew through my skull.
    I thought I’d be able to outsmart a zombie in a one-on-one struggle, but the Beefeater has me bang to rights. All I can do is stare at him with horror as he opens his mouth wide and presses his fangs to the cold flesh of my forehead.
    For a few seconds the Beefeater holds that position. My sights are locked on the hole in his throat. If I could get a hand free, I could maybe rip the hole wide open. As I’m considering that, and wondering why the Beefeater has paused, he leans back and looks at me stiffly. To my astonishment he holds up a hand and makes a pinching gesture with his thumb and fingers. Then he cocks his head sideways, questioningly.
    ‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ I groan, realising what the issue is.
    The Beefeater snarls and makes the gesture with his fingers again. He’s a mindless, cannibalistic killer, but somewhere deep in that ruined brain of his, an old spark of instinct is driving him to do what he did every working day when he was alive.
    ‘OK,’ I wheeze. ‘If you let me up, I’ll play