crazy thing for records.’
‘Yeah, well,’ he shrugs, looking away.
‘I hope it works out for you here. I’ll try to come again, but I don’t know if Dr Oystein will let me.’
‘I’m sure our paths will cross at some point,’ he says warmly.
To my surprisemy lower lip starts to tremble.
‘You’re not gonna cry, are you?’ Vinyl growls.
‘I’m a zombie,’ I remind him. ‘I can’t. But if I was alive . . . yeah, I think I’d treat myself to some waterworks. It’s as good a time as any for tears.’
‘You’ve turned into a wimp,’ Vinyl smiles. ‘The B Smith I knew would never have blubbed like a baby.’
‘You’re wrong,’ I say softly, rememberingall the nights I cried myself to sleep after Dad had beaten me or my mum. ‘I just would have hidden my soft side and never admitted it. But I’m not bothered now. The living dead have nothing to hide.
‘Look after yourself, Vinyl. Stay one step ahead of the monsters.’
‘You too, B,’ he sighs.
As Vinyl waves, I take a short run at the edge and launch myself from the wall, bidding farewellto New Kirkham, literally throwing myself back into the world of bloodshed, death and zombies beyond.
NINETEEN
I land in a clear spot, and though my feet sting a bit, I don’t injure myself. As I stand, zombies swarm round me, growling, sniffing, opening their mouths to tear into my skull and get at my brain. Then they realise I’m like them and they withdraw, disappointed. One woman runs her fingers round the rim of the moss-encrusted hole in my chest, just to be sure.
We cut gentlythrough the ranks of the undead, saying nothing, acting as if we’re the same as any other zombie. There are some houses scattered nearby. We’d like to seek shelter – we’ve been exposed to the sun a lot over the last couple of days and we’re suffering, even though we’re covered in thick clothes and wearing hats or hoods – but every house is packed with zombies, waiting for night to fall.
We push on, back the way we came, over the hill. A few hours into our march, we come to some trees, where we can rest in the shade. We all lie down and start removing our clothes to air our skin. I’m not sunburnt but I’m itchy as hell. I’d love to scratch but I can’t, not with my fingerbones—I’d rip the flesh apart.
‘This is what I hate about these missions,’ Conall grunts,peeling off a pair of thermals which he was wearing beneath his trousers. ‘It would be much easier if we could do them at night.’
‘Yeah,’ Pearse says, ‘but the night world’s a lot harder on the living than the day world is on us.’
‘I know. I’m just saying.’ Conall shuffles clear of the thermals, then fishes a backscratcher out of the rucksack he was carrying.
‘Where’d you get that?’I cry.
‘I never leave home without one,’ he grins.
‘Have you got a spare for me?’
‘Nope.’
‘You could have warned us, so that we could have brought our own,’ I growl.
Conall shrugs. ‘What am I, your keeper?’
‘You’ll pick up ideas as you go along,’ Pearse says. ‘It’s all about what you learn, not what you get taught.’
‘Hark at Yoda,’ I grumble, looking for a twig to pokemyself with.
We rest beneath the cover of the trees, discussing New Kirkham, wondering what the future holds for the people there. Rage and Shane work out, doing pull-ups on the branches, climbing the trees, racing each other, seeing who can go highest the fastest.
I lie back and listen to birdcalls. They should send a shudder down my spine, given what happened with Liz, but to my surpriseI find the noises soothing. The bird wasn’t to blame for what it did. I’d have to be pretty surly to hold a grudge, especially given the fact that I’ve caused a lot more damage in my time than that bird ever will.
As I’m relaxing, allowing myself a bitter-sweet smile, the birdsong is drowned out by the sound of engines in the near distance, big cars or trucks. We all fall silent.
‘Yeah, well,’ he shrugs, looking away.
‘I hope it works out for you here. I’ll try to come again, but I don’t know if Dr Oystein will let me.’
‘I’m sure our paths will cross at some point,’ he says warmly.
To my surprisemy lower lip starts to tremble.
‘You’re not gonna cry, are you?’ Vinyl growls.
‘I’m a zombie,’ I remind him. ‘I can’t. But if I was alive . . . yeah, I think I’d treat myself to some waterworks. It’s as good a time as any for tears.’
‘You’ve turned into a wimp,’ Vinyl smiles. ‘The B Smith I knew would never have blubbed like a baby.’
‘You’re wrong,’ I say softly, rememberingall the nights I cried myself to sleep after Dad had beaten me or my mum. ‘I just would have hidden my soft side and never admitted it. But I’m not bothered now. The living dead have nothing to hide.
‘Look after yourself, Vinyl. Stay one step ahead of the monsters.’
‘You too, B,’ he sighs.
As Vinyl waves, I take a short run at the edge and launch myself from the wall, bidding farewellto New Kirkham, literally throwing myself back into the world of bloodshed, death and zombies beyond.
NINETEEN
I land in a clear spot, and though my feet sting a bit, I don’t injure myself. As I stand, zombies swarm round me, growling, sniffing, opening their mouths to tear into my skull and get at my brain. Then they realise I’m like them and they withdraw, disappointed. One woman runs her fingers round the rim of the moss-encrusted hole in my chest, just to be sure.
We cut gentlythrough the ranks of the undead, saying nothing, acting as if we’re the same as any other zombie. There are some houses scattered nearby. We’d like to seek shelter – we’ve been exposed to the sun a lot over the last couple of days and we’re suffering, even though we’re covered in thick clothes and wearing hats or hoods – but every house is packed with zombies, waiting for night to fall.
We push on, back the way we came, over the hill. A few hours into our march, we come to some trees, where we can rest in the shade. We all lie down and start removing our clothes to air our skin. I’m not sunburnt but I’m itchy as hell. I’d love to scratch but I can’t, not with my fingerbones—I’d rip the flesh apart.
‘This is what I hate about these missions,’ Conall grunts,peeling off a pair of thermals which he was wearing beneath his trousers. ‘It would be much easier if we could do them at night.’
‘Yeah,’ Pearse says, ‘but the night world’s a lot harder on the living than the day world is on us.’
‘I know. I’m just saying.’ Conall shuffles clear of the thermals, then fishes a backscratcher out of the rucksack he was carrying.
‘Where’d you get that?’I cry.
‘I never leave home without one,’ he grins.
‘Have you got a spare for me?’
‘Nope.’
‘You could have warned us, so that we could have brought our own,’ I growl.
Conall shrugs. ‘What am I, your keeper?’
‘You’ll pick up ideas as you go along,’ Pearse says. ‘It’s all about what you learn, not what you get taught.’
‘Hark at Yoda,’ I grumble, looking for a twig to pokemyself with.
We rest beneath the cover of the trees, discussing New Kirkham, wondering what the future holds for the people there. Rage and Shane work out, doing pull-ups on the branches, climbing the trees, racing each other, seeing who can go highest the fastest.
I lie back and listen to birdcalls. They should send a shudder down my spine, given what happened with Liz, but to my surpriseI find the noises soothing. The bird wasn’t to blame for what it did. I’d have to be pretty surly to hold a grudge, especially given the fact that I’ve caused a lot more damage in my time than that bird ever will.
As I’m relaxing, allowing myself a bitter-sweet smile, the birdsong is drowned out by the sound of engines in the near distance, big cars or trucks. We all fall silent.
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