and yawns, but I’m grinning.
We return to the atrium and spend the rest of the eveningand early part of the night with the other Angels. Pearse and Conall have done this run a few times and they’ve become good friends with Vinyl. He gets to know the rest of the gang and amuses them with some stories about me from the distant past. We play cards – all of us careful never to pass cards directly to Vinyl or come within scraping distance of him – and Vinyl downs a couple of beers.
Emma comes to see us later, carrying a tray of sandwiches. She tries to make small talk. I think she feels bad for having deserted us. Vinyl munches a few of the sandwiches, chats with Emma, makes her laugh. She leaves looking less solemn.
‘You’re a real man of the people, aren’t you?’ I smirk.
‘A Big Chief has to be,’ he winks. ‘I plan on running for prime minister when we get thisworld back in order. I might need her vote.’
‘You really think we can knock the world back into shape?’ I ask sceptically.
‘With people like you and me on the case, how can we fail?’ he laughs.
Eventually Vinyl bids us goodnight. ‘I know you guys don’t need any shut-eye, but this boy soldier needs his beauty sleep.’
‘Will you bed down with the others?’ I ask.
‘No, I’ll be sleepingby myself, the way I always do.’
‘Because nobody wants to share a bed with you?’ I joke.
Vinyl winces. ‘No. Because I don’t want to scare anyone when I wake up screaming.’
With a short wave he heads for bed, leaving the darkest, most twisted hours of the night to those of us best suited to them.
THIRTEEN
In the morning we ready the humans and make sure they’ve sprayed perfume or aftershave all over . They wear old, dusty clothes, and have stained the fronts of many of them with their own blood, which they’ve extracted with syringes over the last few days, to make it look as if they’ve fed from the living. We warn them not to talk when we’re outside, unless it’s essential. Noyawning, burping or farting. They’re not to look around or show interest in anything.
We need them to appear as corpse-like as possible. Their disguise won’t hold if any zombies come close, but from a distance they shouldn’t draw too much attention. Of course every member of the undead will be interested in anything that braves the sunlight world, but we won’t be the only zombies out thereon the streets. I’ve seen groups at large before, packs which had to move on when their shelter burnt down, or stragglers who fell behind when they were chasing prey and who weren’t prepared to admit defeat.
It won’t be easy getting these guys to New Kirkham, but it’s not Mission Impossible either. A slice of luck will be welcome, but we can probably do without it if we have to.
Wheneveryone’s good to go, we let ourselves out, cross the river and head south. Pearse and Conall lead the way. They’re an odd couple. Both have ginger hair, but there the similarities end. Pearse is small and skinny, whereas Conall is built like a tower of bricks, almost a match for Rage.
They wear distinctive headgear. Conall prefers a pair of baseball caps, one the right way round, the otherback to front to cover his neck. But Pearse has opted for a beekeeper’s hat, mesh and all. He says it’s because he has naturally delicate skin. ‘The sun burnt the hell out of me even when I was alive,’ he laughs. ‘I have to be extra cautious now.’
Vinyl moves among the humans, circling constantly, quietly reassuring them, communicating any commands that we wish to pass on, holding everyonetogether.
I’m almost as nervous as the living. I don’t know this area. I was an East End girl—nowhere east of Wapping fazed me in the slightest. I’ve adapted to Central London since moving to County Hall and have started to feel comfortable there. But places like Putney and Roehampton are alien to me.
We stick to open areas as much as we can, the middle of wide roads,
We return to the atrium and spend the rest of the eveningand early part of the night with the other Angels. Pearse and Conall have done this run a few times and they’ve become good friends with Vinyl. He gets to know the rest of the gang and amuses them with some stories about me from the distant past. We play cards – all of us careful never to pass cards directly to Vinyl or come within scraping distance of him – and Vinyl downs a couple of beers.
Emma comes to see us later, carrying a tray of sandwiches. She tries to make small talk. I think she feels bad for having deserted us. Vinyl munches a few of the sandwiches, chats with Emma, makes her laugh. She leaves looking less solemn.
‘You’re a real man of the people, aren’t you?’ I smirk.
‘A Big Chief has to be,’ he winks. ‘I plan on running for prime minister when we get thisworld back in order. I might need her vote.’
‘You really think we can knock the world back into shape?’ I ask sceptically.
‘With people like you and me on the case, how can we fail?’ he laughs.
Eventually Vinyl bids us goodnight. ‘I know you guys don’t need any shut-eye, but this boy soldier needs his beauty sleep.’
‘Will you bed down with the others?’ I ask.
‘No, I’ll be sleepingby myself, the way I always do.’
‘Because nobody wants to share a bed with you?’ I joke.
Vinyl winces. ‘No. Because I don’t want to scare anyone when I wake up screaming.’
With a short wave he heads for bed, leaving the darkest, most twisted hours of the night to those of us best suited to them.
THIRTEEN
In the morning we ready the humans and make sure they’ve sprayed perfume or aftershave all over . They wear old, dusty clothes, and have stained the fronts of many of them with their own blood, which they’ve extracted with syringes over the last few days, to make it look as if they’ve fed from the living. We warn them not to talk when we’re outside, unless it’s essential. Noyawning, burping or farting. They’re not to look around or show interest in anything.
We need them to appear as corpse-like as possible. Their disguise won’t hold if any zombies come close, but from a distance they shouldn’t draw too much attention. Of course every member of the undead will be interested in anything that braves the sunlight world, but we won’t be the only zombies out thereon the streets. I’ve seen groups at large before, packs which had to move on when their shelter burnt down, or stragglers who fell behind when they were chasing prey and who weren’t prepared to admit defeat.
It won’t be easy getting these guys to New Kirkham, but it’s not Mission Impossible either. A slice of luck will be welcome, but we can probably do without it if we have to.
Wheneveryone’s good to go, we let ourselves out, cross the river and head south. Pearse and Conall lead the way. They’re an odd couple. Both have ginger hair, but there the similarities end. Pearse is small and skinny, whereas Conall is built like a tower of bricks, almost a match for Rage.
They wear distinctive headgear. Conall prefers a pair of baseball caps, one the right way round, the otherback to front to cover his neck. But Pearse has opted for a beekeeper’s hat, mesh and all. He says it’s because he has naturally delicate skin. ‘The sun burnt the hell out of me even when I was alive,’ he laughs. ‘I have to be extra cautious now.’
Vinyl moves among the humans, circling constantly, quietly reassuring them, communicating any commands that we wish to pass on, holding everyonetogether.
I’m almost as nervous as the living. I don’t know this area. I was an East End girl—nowhere east of Wapping fazed me in the slightest. I’ve adapted to Central London since moving to County Hall and have started to feel comfortable there. But places like Putney and Roehampton are alien to me.
We stick to open areas as much as we can, the middle of wide roads,
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