Thirteen Roses Book Four: Alone: A Paranormal Zombie Saga by Michael Cairns Page A

with.’
    He let the partnership comment pass. It was fine, if she wanted to think that. She’d soon learn who the boss was. She was a believer but she didn’t see her place in the plan. None of them did, because none of them saw the big picture.  
    ‘We need a safe house for fifty people, somewhere close enough to the hospital supplies in case we need them. I’m going to charge the other devices. When I get back I want you to be ready and have found a place. Understand?’
    Her face creased slightly but smoothed just as quickly. Perhaps she was just beginning to see who was in charge here. She nodded. ‘We’ll be ready.’
    ‘Good.’ For a moment he thought about kissing her, but he wouldn’t stop at that. He settled for an arm on her shoulder. She didn’t flinch away and he took that as a good sign. He stomped out the room and jogged down to reception. He’d got even fitter in the last week than he’d been before. The constant moving and fighting and running had toned the bits he might not have bothered with, and the last four days of sleep had got him rested.  
    He plucked the device from the drawer, shoved it in his pocket with the other two, and turned to go. Bayleigh and Alex stepped out from where they’d been hiding and stood in front of the stairs.  
    ‘Hi, Jackson. Tell me, exactly, what you’ve been doing for the last two hours.’

Luke

    The piece of metal hit him like a truck. He was utterly unprepared, which was the only thing that saved his life. The human body can withstand a massive impact, so long as it’s relaxed enough, and he was as relaxed as he could be, considering the circumstances. He flew like he hadn’t in the three weeks since he’d come to Earth, and hit the concrete shoulder first. Something gave way, like his ankle had in the cavern, then he rolled, gravel spitting up against his visor as his helmet bashed against the floor.  
    He slid the last few feet and shredded the skin off his hands. He lay still as warmth flooded in. He tried to lift his head, but nothing worked. Even his hands, wet with blood, refused to move. He rolled onto his side, getting there through a series of puppy-weak pushes with his good arm. The pain in his shoulder flared like someone had stabbed him and he blacked out.  
    He came back seconds later, blinking furiously. The warmth still lapped at him and he couldn’t breathe. He tried to take his helmet off but his bad shoulder refused to budge, so he flipped the visor up with one hand and sucked in air. Smoke flooded his lungs and he burst out coughing, rolling onto his front. Saliva dripped onto the tarmac as his hacking got worse and worse. Tears streamed down his face.  
    Forehead pressed into the ground, he pushed himself to his knees. He stared across the tarmac and saw flames and pieces of debris before he scrunched his eyes shut against the smoke. Hands grabbed him and he tried to shake the zombie off. It was going to bite him. He was going to die because of a damned explosion, He couldn’t die here, not like this, it—
    ‘Stop it, bloody stop it and get up. Come on.’
    Krystal’s voice, low and rough and coarse, was like a choir, and he stopped struggling, head still resting on the concrete. But she was still pulling at him. Why was she pulling at him? He needed sleep, not movement.
    ‘Get up get up get up.’ She thumped him on the back and he roused himself enough to understand that they needed to move, quickly. She put a hand beneath his right shoulder and he screamed, blushing at the sound.
    ‘Other side, other side.’ He didn’t sound like himself. He sounded like he’d been smoking forty a day for a few hundred years, but she understood. She grabbed his left arm and shoulder and heaved, and he tried his best to join in. He gained his feet and together they weaved a few steps until the smoke thinned. Her hands went away and he swayed, opening his eyes fully.  
    They were beside a car and Krystal opened the passenger door.