Zombies limped toward me, bloody and disfigured, a chaste moon slinging shadows against their lurching fingers. Their crimson-splattered mouths were hungry for my flesh. A few pulled the lower half of their bodies with their ashen, supple hands.
Some moved faster than others; they must have fed recently. How I had been stupid enough to head home from a friend’s house at such a late hour baffled me now. Thirty years since the zombie apocalypse and sixteen years since my birth meant I had grown up knowing what should and should not be done. Yet here I was. Fear caused me to think as clear as a drunkard bent over a garbage pail.
Even though Queen Victoria had commanded a good majority of her soldiers into the streets of England to protect her people, it still remained a bloody mess. Some of us still lived with a false sense of security though.
I screamed, the sound echoing off the brick buildings. The streets were empty. Smart people were safe at home. The others were in taverns dancing and drinking. I wondered if anyone heard me or if everyone was ignoring me, as I had done so many times before.
Puddles of water splashed against me as I ran. My boots kept my feet warm, breath heavy against the cold. My hand caught my fall as I skidded to the left, the back of my leather skirt ripping against a wooden box I raced past. The whistle of a train broke through the sound of death following close behind. I ran into a chain-linked fence, and my rubber soles scraped against the stone road as I came to a halt. I had misjudged my aim. I had meant to go down Lily Road, toward my house. Instead I went down Dead End Road…literally.
With my back against the fence, I stared through my strands of shoddy raspberry-colored hair and into the dead faces before me. Ten of them. Slow and stupid, but large in numbers. The queen tried to keep these diseased creatures under wraps. Over the last few months, they began multiplying and soon became too much for our countries troops.
Again, I let out a petrified scream, but no soldier came. I imagined my neighbors shutting their windows and locking their doors. Another attack wasn’t anything new, and everyone depended on the Queen’s men to help.
Here I was, at the mercy of these demons, my black-and-white thigh-high stockings slithering down from my ruffled petticoat. Even with gloves covering my hands, the coolness of the steel gate behind me seeped through.
Crusty dried blood covered the mouth of the zombie closest to me, and I shut my eyes when his mouth showed teeth stained with yellow.
“You can’t see me, you can’t see me.” I mumbled a childish thought, one would have when only a tot.
The static tenor of a thunderous grinding reverberated in my ears. I opened my eyes. What sounded like the ringing of metal slicing through brittle rock was a sword splitting the flesh and bone of the zombie in front of me. I tried to back into the chain-linked fence, hoping to meld into it and be free from the havoc before me. Blood doused my chest; my eyebrows creased my forehead, my mouth deepening with a frown.
Another zombie with haggard brown pieces of hair staggered up to me. Her hand crept toward my face. My muscles clenched, matching my corset-tightened waist. I pressed the side of my face against the steel to the point I knew it would leave an impression. Peeking through the corner of my eye, I witnessed a blade strike her temple. The blood of the monster squirted against me and I flinched.
A gloved hand grabbed my shoulder, and an arm came under me before I experienced cool air sweeping against my sweaty face. The ground became distant as I was lifted over the fence and to the open road on the other side. My blood pumped with fright while I pounded the body holding me, afraid I had been captured by another type of monster. Arms grasped me closer as if I was Hade’s captor, Persephone, and we were crossing through to the underworld.
“Stop that or I’ll toss you back to be food.” He had an acute amorous voice.
One calloused hand was around my thigh and his other held my waist. The rapid wind assaulted me as he took us both away from the zombies now obscured in my rear view.
I was being rescued by some pale stranger with long black hair hiding behind a mask. Thoughts turned into a jumbled mess as I wondered if I should scream for rescue or hold on tighter. How could I know if he was truly here to help me or saved me only to murder me himself?
It was hard to see through it all, but I knew his eyes were boring into me. My breath caught as I feared what we might run into with his vision diverted. My face flushed while fear continued to sear through my stomach with a stabbing sensation.
“Stop looking at me and start looking at where you are going!”
The strange man’s face hardened in contrast to his one high apple-shaped cheek bone I could see brushed with a light pink color. One eye had a monocle between his eyebrow and bottom lid, with two other monocles reaching up above the other. Through the dark lenses, I thought I glimpsed a red eye similar to those of the zombies.
His dimpled cheeks creased into a smile. “Don’t worry, I can do both,” he assured me, yet my heart still pummeled and the stinging prickles against my skin gave no whisper of disappearing.
“Put me down!” Between my endorphins running rapid, the shear shame of needing saving, and my fear of this stranger, I decided to resort to indignation.
He slowed until he was at a jog. Now I could clearly see that his other eye was protected by a mask covering half of his face. The plate was made of leather with cog teeth at the bottom surrounded by a lighter beige oxhide. It appeared menacing and didn’t help to drown my dread in mud.
“Die by zombie, die by running into a wall, they both leave my soul diminished.”
“What? No thank you?” He came to a stop, still holding me firmly.
My lips tightened with a hardness I’d inherited from my father. “Thank you, you silly boy.” I squirmed until he let me down. My knees buckled and he caught me, helping to keep me upright. I tried to push him away. “I don’t need your help.”
He didn’t even budge. “It would not appear that way.” He crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow.
When my legs felt sturdy, I stepped back and glared straight into his monocle. “I can take care of myself. Thank you for your help, but please leave me be.” My hand searched inside my pocket for my steam-ignited pistol, but I found nothing. I had left it on top of my dresser at home. Bloody hell, I was more absent-headed than normal tonight.
He shook his head, his hair swung back and forth, stark against his pale face. “You are such a disappointment as a woman.”
I gasped. “Pardon me?” My face pinched, and I clenched my fists.
He sighed heavily as if bored with me. “I am met with hostility even though I saved your life.”
“How dare you! What is your name? I shall make it a sin to be spoken.”
The braveness of his chuckle along with his grin made me step back. “Aeron, and please make my name a sin to speak. You are a ghastly mess and should be taught proper manners.”
With my feet planted on the pavement, I grew angry with the way Aeron spoke to me. The desperate groan of the zombies had faded, and my house was less than a block away. All I wanted to do was lay my head down to meet my pillow.
“Thank you.” I tried to put more softness behind the words, but my gritted teeth didn’t help. “I’ll be fine now.”
“You’re welcome, even though you are quite difficult.” Aeron’s words sent bolts of electricity through my core. I turned around so he wouldn’t see the rage on my face. “Try to keep yourself safe. I won’t always be around to save you.” His nonchalance was insulting, as if he thought I was a simpleton was loud and clear.
God, he was so cocky! I didn’t need him, or anyone else, coming to my rescue. If he hadn’t shown up, I would have figured a way out. “I’ll be just fine!”
The emptiness became apparent when the silence overcame the dim scenery around me. He had gone without a goodbye, and I jogged the rest of the way home. After removing the long chain from around my neck, I picked out the correct key and unlocked the door. I lived with my father and several servants in a double townhouse. We weren’t as upper class as that Aeron man thought, but we were known well enough throughout the city.
When I was inside, I turned the golden knob to snap the lock back in place. Two automated arms came over the door and clasped each other at the mechanical wrists for extra security.
I leaned back. My head hit the hard wood of the door. I let out a breath. Dragging my feet up the stairs, I almost made it to my room without a hitch when a squeak from down the hall caught my attention.
“Good evening, Father,” I said without looking.
“How many times are we going to have to go over this before I get it through that thick skull of yours? Walking around after sunset is dangerous, and you are forbidden to do so!”
Forcing a bright smile, I went to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’m fine, Father. Look!” When I stepped back, I opened my arms wide and did a circle. “See?”
“Bloody hell, Lucy, look at you. Tights falling, skirt raised, hair askew…What were you doing tonight?”
Bollocks, I should have fixed my clothing when I came in. “I was…I was running home because I heard a noise.” Which was ten zombies behind me, hungry for my brains. “I came from Emily’s house. I lost track of ti—”
“You will help Olivia with the dishes after breakfast tomorrow!”
“I am sixteen years old, Father! You must stop treating me as though I am a mere child!”
“Until you are taking care of a husband of your own, you will do as I say.” His mustache twitched. “Now go to bed!”
With a rumble of frustration, I stomped my foot and went off to my room. The first thing I did was tear off my clothes, leaving them were they landed, and changed into a long white gown before going to the vanity and taking a brush to my knotted locks.
My father never talked about what happened when the zombies first rose, but I knew he had been through a lot. A vast majority of England had been wiped out when they first showed up.
The zombies appeared to favor the night when partiers and drinkers were susceptible. From watching several during the day, it did give the impression that they were much weaker when the sun was up.
If it had not been for the famous inventor Earl Thomas Ashdown and all of his automatons, England would be nothing more than a feasting ground for those disgusting creatures. When more time passed, his steam-powered inventions became more advanced and helped us build an army that could at least defend England from the zombies. However, with one dead, it was as if three more emerged. As of late, it seemed that more automatons were in need, and it had been over a year since a new model was made.
Many stories about how the zombies came to be floated around. The most popular story became the gossip of a voodoo queen who obtained the souls of unsuspecting humans. It had been said that she captured the victim’s shadow, and then, little by little, took hold of their body until she possessed the entire person. The person would die, and the voodoo queen would raise them from the grave later that night to put them into a comatose trance. Which turned them into a slave, needing only human brains, flesh, and blood to survive.
After that, the voodoo queen’s curse passed from the zombie to whatever human it drew blood from. One would become nothing more than an animated corpse soon to haunt the streets in tattered rags without any memory of whom or what they once were…or, at least, that was the rumor. Soldiers searched for the queen behind the wreckage, but not much was found to prove it.
There was no other explanation, and the Royal Family was known for their secrets and keeping their people calm…well, calmer state by never acknowledging such a person existed. I could imagine the riots that would ensue, people searching any house they pleased to find out where she was.
For a moment I stopped brushing my hair. I do wonder if their soul was trapped inside their body, and they realize everything they are doing even though they don’t really want to do it. They’re just remnants of a person who once was, dreaming of death as their flesh rots, entirely subservient and bound to the ascendancy of that wicked queen.
People had whispered that they have seen her. She was said to have on a ball gown made of spider web and goblin silk, dirty matted hair twisted into dreadlocks, wild eyes that flashed red when looked into directly and dark skin that was no smoother than that of an alligator. Or so people alleged. I wasn’t sure anyone could see such a woman and not fall over dead where they stood! How ghastly it would be. I shuddered at the thought and put my brush down.
The idea was less speculation since the outbreak began in London instead of somewhere else around the world.
After I rubbed my temples, I felt my bay window beckoned to me. Sitting on the thin cushion, I pressed my finger against the glass filled with condensation and pushed open the French-style window. Zombies had yet to climb trees to get to anyone so I didn’t fear my window being open.
“I see you are home safe.”
I covered my mouth before a small yelp came from me. When I scanned the street, I noticed Aeron leaning against a small tree. “Go away.” I tried to keep my voice low so my father wouldn’t hear.
“I only wanted to make sure I had not gone out of my way for you to get into trouble a few steps from your house, Miss Knight.”
He must have read my surname off our plaque. Shaking my head, I pulled the window shut and took to my bed, raising the covers high over my body. “What an annoying boy.”
Still, he did save my life, the little voice in my head said as I stared up at the canopy above.
Why did I treat him so harshly when he only wanted to keep me alive? I turned on my side and hugged my pillow tighter. Maybe it had been the suddenness of it all. I became caught up in the moment, truly upset with myself for being so naive and using him to take my anger out on instead of berating myself. I was such a clever girl. He was still a stupid boy though.
Blurb for Betrothal:
hand out to secure hers again and raised it to his mouth. “It seems, however, that I must be content with this.” He grazed her skin with his lips, skimming over the surface of her flesh with a floating touch that made her shiver. “And with my news. You know the king called for a joust, a Round Table, at Windsor next week to celebrate the princess’s betrothal?”
Jenna Jaxon Romance--because passion is timeless. 