“What are you doing?” said Alise.

  The figure began to move slowly towards the patio door, Liz doing the same on her side. There was something about this particular discarded, dead being that held her captive.

  “Come on,” said Alise. “We need to go back upstairs.”

  Liz continued her fascination with the thing, dressed in trousers and a shirt of some kind. “Yes, yes. We… will…”

  The face emerging from the darkness dredged up a recent memory. One half of a couple.

  As if lost in a dream, Liz watched the dead young woman walk with a limp, closer and closer to the glass, letting her get within a few feet before Liz wanted to retch. The top of the unfortunate’s skull was cleaved open. A jagged crevice, neatly divided the forehead into two purple halves, while what was left of the girl’s face sagged within ripples of skin. Liz staggered back. “Oh god… oh… it’s… it’s—”

  She never heard the creaking of floorboards behind, but felt the draft from the swing and spray of blood as the axe blade sliced into Alise’s neck. Liz spun around just in time to see the young woman’s head part from her body.

  Shock then horror then panic all simultaneously clashed within Liz’s mind as she stood, frozen, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

  James’ eyes were large and obvious within the gloom, his breathing more so. His former girlfriend clattered into the glass behind Liz, clawing at it but the woman with a still beating heart, did not notice, so overwhelmed with fear that she physically couldn’t move. Was he smiling?

  She knew he was moving towards her, could see the shadow moving in the darkness of the room, the blade glinting from what little light there was seeping in from outside. And knew there was nothing she could do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  JOE

  Joe looked at the seven motorbikes of various sizes in the huge garage area at the back of Greg’s workshop. Some seemed more functional than designed for speed, but a black and silver beast of a machine, caught his eye. A similarly coloured helmet sat on its seat with a paper note stuck to its top.

  ‘HANDS OFF RYAN!’

  It was a clear message he thought and gave him an inkling of who the machine belonged to. Along the walls were backpacks and at the back of this section of the L-shaped area were more boxes and crates, stacked almost to the ceiling fifteen-feet above. He moved close to one that had been partially opened, and inspected the contents of baked beans, the best before date being a few years off.

  “Greg’s been preparing for this for many many years.”

  Joe turned to face Mavis.

  She slowly sat on one of the boxes, rubbing her knees. “I just wished it happened a few decades earlier…” She smiled and Joe replied with the same.

  “Are you and—”

  “Oh no, well, a long time ago yes, but we went our separate ways then met up again online. And since then have become… companions to each other. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you…”

  Joe looked down, letting out a breath, shaking his head a little. “I’ve been in some tough situations before, but it was always myself or those that chose to be in it with me. But Tia…” He swallowed.

  “Well, at least you know she’s safe. She’s one of the lucky ones. Getting into a camp.” Mavis looked away. “You should have seen some of the footage we saw, that was posted online before the network was switched off.”

  “Switched off?”

  “Yes. Same for the cell networks.”

  “I thought it went down due to overload or something?”

  “That’s not what Ken and Stew tell me and they know a lot more about this kind of—”

  Something clattered on the outside of the large double doors.

  Mavis and Joe looked at each other, not needing to say anything, then began to walk back to the rest of the workshop area, when Ember appeared in front of them.

  She looked at Joe. “Looks like Ken has managed to send a message to—”

  He ran past her and the columns of boxes to where the computers, light and rest of the group were.

  Ken turned around in his seat. “I just sent an SMS to that number you gave me. No reply so far.”

  “Try it again. Send another!”

  Ken looked at Greg, who nodded. The teen returned to his screen, moving the mouse and clicked. “Sent again… If we do this too many times, they’re going to block this proxy as well, and we are kind of running out of them…”

  Greg stood a little taller, looking at Joe. “I’m sorry, but this will have to be the last time we try.”

  On Stew’s monitor, he watched one of the undead drag itself along the outside of the building. “It’s moving away. I don’t think it knows we’re—”

  “She replied!” shouted Ken.

  “Ssshh!” said Greg. “You want to bring them all in here?”

  Joe was already behind Ken’s seat. “What did she say?”

  Ken tapped and brought up the message. Then began to read it out. “Thank God you’re alive! And Tia is okay! I’m fine. Just scared being here by myself. I don’t even have Scott our goldfish to keep me company! Please keep looking for Tia and I…” He realised Joe had looked away. “What?”

  Joe looked back at the screen. “Are you sure there’s no… error or something in the words? This is definitely the message she sent back?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  Greg nodded. “What’s wrong?”

  “We don’t have a goldfish. I need to borrow one of those bikes.”

  At least three in the room waved their hands in protest.

  Argo frowned. “Like hell you will.”

  “I’ll take him.”

  Joe along with a few others looked at the girl in the black leathers.

  “Are you insane?” said Stew.

  She ignored him and looked at Greg. “Where else we gonna find a former soldier willing to help us?”

  The old man looked down in thought. “Yeah, I don’t know. But it’s a good long way.”

  “I made it,” said Joe.

  “Actually you got caught,” said Mathew, then held his hands up when seeing the anger on Joe’s face.

  Greg looked at Stew. “Show him the camera feeds across the capital.”

  Stew tapped away, bringing up a grid of sixteen small screens. Most were still bathed in darkness, but in others the scene was lit by streetlights.

  Joe recognised a few of the landmarks, then shook his head at what else they contained.

  Greg pointed at the screen. “The one near the hospital, near the bridge. Make it bigger.”

  The view of that particular video feed enlarged to fill the screen, showing Joe what he would rather not have seen. Bodies were moving in the darkness. So many that he couldn’t tell where they ended and the shadows began.

  “And that’s just one of the crossing points,” said Greg.

  “There’s no other bridges to cross at?”

  Ember looked at Greg, who then shook his head. “Nope. No.”

  Joe looked between them. “What? Where?”

  Argo pointed at another of the smaller videos. “Westminster…”

  The room fell quiet.

  “I can do it,” said Ember.

  “Do what?” said Joe.

  Stew clicked his mouse and brought up the relevant camera feed. The bridge near Big Ben was clear of the dead, but filled with military vehicles.

  “Shit,” said Joe.

  “Yup,” said Greg. He looked at the young girl. “There’s no way through. And if they catch you, there will be no rescuing you. Nope. I won’t allow it.”

  Ember’s face tightened. “Allow me? When did this become a dictatorship?”

  Greg moved closer to her. “When you decided to—”

  “Wait,” said Ken. They both looked at him. “We got access to the cameras. Well, with a little bit of extra probing, I reckon I can get us into the streetlights…”

  “Hm,” said Greg.

  “Can you turn them off?” said Joe.

  “Well, duh. I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I couldn’t.”

  Joe looked at Greg, the older man’s frown becoming even deeper.

  Ember pointed to the screen. “You can track us with the cameras. When we get near. Ken and Stew—”

  “Ken,” said the youngster under his breath.

  “— Can turn the lights off, and we slip by before they even know what hit them. They won’t chase us. They got to guard that bridge.”

  “And getting back?” said Grace.

  “We’ll go a long way around. Through Richmond or something.”

  They all looked at the oldest in the group. “Ok, fine!”

  Ember moved towards the bike area. “I’ll need more fuel for Ryan.”

  “Uh?” said Joe.

  Ken frowned. “It’s what she calls her bike.”

  Greg looked at Clara. “Go with them.”

  Ember rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a babysitter!”

  The older woman walked to her side, laying a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Just try and keep up, yeah?”

  Mavis emerged from the end of the room. “Sun’s about to come up. If you want this plan to work, you need to leave now.”

  *****

  “There’s—”

  “I know!” shouted Ember at Joe, seated behind her. The bike swerved left around the figure which made a lunge towards it, but was too slow to get any purchase on the growling machine.

  They soared between cars, the navy blue tint of the eastern sky reflecting off the metallic bodies and rain soaked ground alike.

  Clara was racing down the other lane to their right on the raised dual carriage way that was heading east.

  Animated corpses came and went within Joe’s vision through his visor, as he held on for dear life, but his mind was elsewhere. With his daughter, his wife. The plan was simple. Get across the river. Get home. Pick up Liz and then pack up the car and navigate a way out of London’s streets to head west towards the camp. He was going to have to go back on his word to Greg, but he didn’t see what choice he had. His family came first. Greg and the rest of them were going to have to understand. Maybe he could help them out in the future, but Greg’s request was going to have to wait.

  The four-lane road began to slope down, and he had a momentary glimpse across the rest of the capital, its towers and blocks beginning to become visible as the sun peeked above the horizon. Smoke billowed from some of them. Fires still raging. As the elevation dropped and the cityscape fell from view he wondered how many people were still trapped, or had the entire city been left to the dead?

  They bumped off of the wider road, slowing to weave themselves through a sea of abandoned vehicles. More bodies awkwardly staggered around, some flicking their attention towards the loud, angry bikes in their midst. Joe only caught glimpses of them. Rough impressions of pale skin, straggly hair, some with obvious injuries, others not. As Ember increased the throttle once more to pick up speed on a relatively clear track of road, he wondered about something which had been shouting at the back of his mind from the moment the madness began. Where was the blood? They were in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Gore and guts and all that. Dead people were literally walking the earth and yet…

  They slowed again to bump up on the pavement, Ember’s machine moving ahead of Clara’s and both bikes quickly gathered pace, narrowly avoiding trash cans and trees, then hopping back onto the street when the road was empty.

  Their engines echoed off the impressive historic houses, and they roared onto a wider road, which bordered a wall and greenery beyond.

  Turning left they kept going, running parallel with the wall then coming to a wide junction, darted right, between pillars and open gates, and into the park.

  Joe finally knew where they were, and the bikes surged across the concrete path which dissected the lawns, then cut across them.

  The young woman in front of him shouted something in excitement as she increased her speed. Joe didn’t care, he just wanted to get to the bridge as soon as possible. Before the sun was fully risen and the plan wouldn’t work.

  They bumped off of the grass onto the concrete path once more, without hardly slowing. Joe looked across the expansive flat, faded green of the old park. Figures were just visible in the distance, amongst the dwindling shadows beneath trees.

  She slowed suddenly, causing him to grab on a little tighter. They moved through a narrow gateway then soared across a junction full of vehicles, most with their doors open. The buildings here were some of the grandest London had to offer. Five and more stories of Georgian splendor became a blur as the two bikes navigated the streets as if it were a racing circuit, until the route became increasingly narrow and full of cars. The buildings in this part of London were modern towers of steel and glass, with vehicles packed in so tight there was no chance of a path between them.

  Ember moved onto a wide pavement as Joe noticed the movement ahead of them. This was not a few shifting shadows but a sea of movement in the gloom.

  He tapped her on the shoulder, pointing ahead. “Not that way!

  Clara pulled up alongside, also seeing the danger.

  He scanned the storefronts and columns, spotting what they needed but not knowing if moving into an alley was a good idea. He pointed at it anyway. She nodded and he held on again as they shot across the road, up another curb and charged down the restricted space, the sides of the bikes only inches from the walls on both sides.

  “We must be close to the bridge!” he shouted, as the alley ended and they roared across a plaza, then into another alley, all the while heading east.

  She hit the brakes as they came out to a main road jammed with abandoned cars, trucks and vans. Some crumpled by impacts, others on their sides. A vehicle graveyard.

  Ember didn’t see the body moving within the darkness just feet away, but Joe did. “Go!” he shouted and the bike surged along the pavement, picking up speed, Clara’s bike just behind.

  “This takes us all the way to the bridge!” Ember shouted.

  Smashed storefronts, their contents scattered across the concrete flashed past, as well as narrow sidestreets full of movement. Joe only caught glimpses, but it was enough to know that if they stopped, they would be overrun in seconds. Luckily the road was straight, the pavement relatively clear, and their speed hardly dropped, as the towering office buildings started to give away to the magisterial structures of government.

  “We’re close!” said Ember.

  Both bikes slowed to a crawl, moving back onto the road at a junction free of vehicles. In front of them were the twin peaks of Westminster Abbey, silhouetted against the lightening sky. Driving carefully they moved along the wide road, moving around an abandoned double-decker bus. Its windscreen lying in pieces on the damp concrete in front of it.

  They continued on, past the grand old buildings, driving into a road which flowed around a large square of grass and concrete. Directly ahead of them the Palace of Westminster and Big Ben stood proud, seemingly unaffected by the calamitous events of the past twenty-four hours.

  All of them of them scanned for any sign of police or army, but the place was desolate. There weren’t even any of the dead.

  Creeping along at not much more than walking speed, they followed the road around to the left, past the palace and black iron railings then came to a stop where the road to the bridge began.

  Joe hopped off and walked to the corner, peering around it to the start of the bridge. The other two parked their bikes and stood close by and all three observed the two army jeeps and two police cars parked at angles, roughly halfway across the four-lane bridge.

  “I’m not seeing anyone there,” said Ember.

  Clara looked at the sky, shaking her head. “It’s almost light. This won’t work.”

  “Chill,” said Ember. “It’ll work. We’ll use the pavement. It looks clear. Stay close to me.” She looked up at the traffic camera above their heads, holding up her hand. “Okay, they turn the lights off in sixty seconds.” She looked at Joe. “Ready?”

  He nodded and they pushed the two bikes to the corner and got back on, then sat, waiting.

  One by one the street lights switched off, until the whole area was plunged into gloom.

  Clara swore. “It’s not dark enough!”

  Ember revved the engine. “Then stay here!” She released the brake and they shot forward, quickly gathering speed, eating up the road and moved onto the bridge, then swung left onto the pavement before the small barriers made it impossible to do so.

  Joe watched the upcoming military vehicles, looking for any sign of movement, but there wasn’t any. Perhaps they had been abandoned as well.

  They flew past, instantly seeing an array of other vehicles at the end of the bridge, figures milling around them and quickly becoming apparent that these weren’t the dead. They waved while running towards the pathway. Ember gripped the throttle increasing their speed, the roar of the engine echoing out across the rippling waves of the river below as they rushed towards the end of the bridge and soldiers running to block their path.

  Suddenly Clara came past on their right, taking to the road. The group ahead hesitated, not knowing who to try to prevent from leaving the bridge but one soldier still honed in on the footpath, raising his weapon as he slowed to a walk.

  Ember and Joe flew past him. He instantly flipped his attention back to Clara’s machine that had no choice but to slow to a stop. Joe turned, just seeing the other bike burn rubber and Clara speed away from the roadblock, some of the vehicles starting their engines to pursue.

  “Are they following?”

  The road veered to the right, Ember banking the motorbike in the same direction and the bridge slid out of sight.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  JOE

  Joe waved his hand to the right, Ember taking the motorbike in the same direction, down another suburban street, filled with cars which she had to avoid by taking the narrow pavement. He knew the area well, but somehow it looked different. It was early, the shadows still long from the rising run, but it was too quiet. Even for 5 a.m. There was no low level din of traffic. No clunk and clack sounds of deliveries being unloaded. There was just the sound of the breeze in his ears as they drove past the wreckage of an abandoned city.