Coldbrook

killed them, and then took over their brains. Could impulses pass along blood-denuded nerves? He thought not, and yet he could see no other way for them to remain moving.

He would not let a supernatural explanation even suggest itself to him. He could not. There was a process here, and he had already worked out how to end it. Discovering more was essential.

Thinking through the science of a zombie actually settled his nerves a little. As he considered venturing to his room to retrieve the remaining Penderyn whisky, Jonah switched on the radio.

‘. . found dead beside the road, and a further five bodies were discovered in the camper van. A police source who does not wish to be identified said the bodies were “heavily mutilated about the head”. Elsewhere, a Scout troop is missing in the mountains north-east of Asheville. The Scouts were due home at midday, but with no communication from them since early morning concern is increasing, and parents are demanding a search-and-rescue. And in Bryson City rumours are rife of an army of “shambling ghosts” seen crossing the hillsides towards the township. More on these stories-’

Vic Pearson punched the ‘off’ button and the car fell silent. Olivia snored softly in the back seat, and he wondered when was the last time he’d watched his daughter sleeping and wondered at her dreams. He hoped these were still good ones. Soon, he feared, she would see and know things that might banish childish dreams for ever.

‘Is that all because of what happened?’ Lucy asked from the passenger seat. Vic could not look at her, because he feared the accusation in her eyes.

‘It might be.’

‘But have you told anyone? Have you warned them?’

‘I told the sheriff.’

‘But beyond that?’

The road was long and straight before them, a snake of headlights and lamp posts, and none of them could know what they were leaving behind. He didn’t know, not really. Not yet.

‘Jonah will be onto it,’ Vic said.

‘But it’s spreading. Fast. Those shambling ghost things near Bryson City, do you think-’

‘Maybe!’ Vic said, harsher than he’d intended. Olivia mumbled something in her sleep, words he would never know.

‘Don’t snap at me, Vic,’ Lucy said, intending to castigate him. But her nervous voice betrayed her fear. ‘Bryson City. . that’s twenty miles from Danton Rock, maybe more.’

Vic had been thinking the same thing. And the Scout troop north-east of Asheville, that was even further away in the opposite direction. He drove on into the night, but when he closed his eyes he saw the darkness of that ventilation duct and smelled the scorched odour of its lockdown.

‘Well, I want to know,’ Lucy said softly, and she turned the radio back on.

I let it all out, Vic thought. He needed to tell her. Everything that’s happening is my fault. I let it escape. But blame was bad enough coming from Jonah, and himself. He was not sure he could bear it from the woman he loved.

Some bland love song breezed into the car, and Lucy turned the dial in her search for more news.

‘. . the Scout troop, and further reports are coming in of isolated violent incidents across the county. On the outskirts of Maryville a church has been found abandoned with blood splashed across its walls and floor. Police are suggesting vandalism, but eyewitnesses say that there are obvious signs of a struggle. Police in Newport have shot dead a man who was attacking and biting people on the streets. Not sure if that reads right, but. . And here’s. . a new item has just been put in front of me, there’s a. . a riot is going on in a suburb of Greenville, South Carolina. There are several fires reported, and the rioting crowd appears to be growing. And reports of. . again, biting. This is NCRR Radio, more updates on these stories as they. .’

‘Nothing about Knoxville yet,’ Jayne muttered to herself, turning the radio down. ‘I might still be okay. I might still make it.’ She concentrated on her driving, not too fast, not too slow, not wishing to attract the attention of the law. Her bite was raw and painful, and she had slipped on a denim jacket to cover it up. But she couldn’t risk being pulled over in case they checked and saw, and. .

And what then? She didn’t know. Because those fuckers had been zombies: she’d seen the movies and heard Tommy talking about the books he’d read, and she’d watched that guy taken down by the woman and his baby boy bitten, and then stand again as. .

‘As one of them,’ she whispered. Tommy had stayed down, unbitten and ignored, because the guy had shot him in the head.

‘Tommy,’ she said aloud, and still the tears would not come. The fact of his death was firm with her, she had no doubts, yet it had still not hit home properly. The events surrounding his death still felt like some kind of mad dream, blood-filled and driven by painkillers and too much wine. She’d wake and tell Tommy about her zombie dream, and he’d laugh and massage her back to life as he did every morning, then go and smoke his joint.

She’d tried 911 four more times as she drove down out of the mountains, only managing to get through once. The guy she’d connected with had taken down the details, waiting patiently as she pulled over and cried as she relayed what had happened up in the car park. Then he’d confirmed that they’d get someone up there ‘when they could’. He’d signed off without taking her address or contact number.

Since then she’d driven with the radio on, because word always spread.

She thought about Ellie, her friend who’d already fled Knoxville ahead of these weird news reports. She had always been easily panicked, and seemed to take the world’s problems on her shoulders. Every week there was another Armageddon that she knew would be the end of her, from Ebola to swine flu, asteroid strikes to global warming, and for someone with such strength of character Jayne was surprised that Ellie could be so afraid.

‘Right to be scared of this shit, Ells,’ Jayne said.

And as she ran through a mental list once again — passport in my desk, couple of hundred bucks stashed in underwear drawer, credit cards, airport a twenty-minute drive from home — she spared a thought for her mother. It was rare that Jayne thought of her at all. She was a ghost in her past, scar tissue on her memory, and she could barely remember her face. That tie had been severed years ago. There were no more, and it was time to finish the journey she’d begun when she had left LA.

It was dark now, and Tommy was still lying dead in that car park. Mountain animals would be emerging from their hiding places, joining the shadows as they grew from the ground. She should never have left him there at the mercy of carrion creatures.

Gasping a sudden, shuddering sob, she turned up the radio and scanned it to a talk station.

‘. . seven times, and they jus’ tell me “please hold on, we’re busy an’ try an’ call back later”, but the guy was standin’ there, starin’ in my window with his throat gone and. .’

‘. . ask the Lord for help and forgiveness, sinners, because the time has come to count your sins, stack them against the unbreachable wall of His limitless compassion, and if you don’t seize the moment and bow down now the tide of death will sweep over you, and you’ll die without Jesus in your heart. .’

‘. . they don’t die, and if these psycho Rapture dudes realised that they’d be running like the rest of us. They don’t die. I saw one hit by a truck and dragged two hundred feet under the wheels, and when the trucker got out and went to check, the roadkill reached up and dragged him down and bit him. They bite. That’s what I’ve heard. I’m telling you, they don’t die, and what’re the authorities doing about all this? Just what are they. .?’

‘. . confused right now, but there do seem to be isolated incidents of violence occurring at this time. The situation is under review, and all our resources are committed to investigating the cause of this violence and protecting members of the public from these few individuals who seem intent on. .’

‘. . and my neighbour called, black guy, and the cop asked if he was white, ’cos if he was white he could help him, and told him there’s no brothers when it comes to the end of time, only the Lord and his children. And my neighbour’s the best Christian I ever met, and that motherfucker asked him if he was fucking white!’

Jonah turned off the radio and closed his laptop screen, hiding the news site from view. The reports were sketchy, but there was no denying the proliferation of attacks. He didn’t need to hear any more because he knew it was out there in the world, and he was more responsible than that prick Pearson. Vic might have opened the way,