Apocalypse (The Ward Z Series Book 3) Read online

  “What about you-know-who?” Gemma asked.

  “Yeah,” Kay added, “Judy's not exactly an Apocalypse kinda girl. Don't take this the wrong way, Merrie, but she really brings the atmosphere down. Not that one single person could ever ruin a night at Apocalypse, but... she comes close.”

  “Cut me some slack, okay?” Merrie replied. “And keep your voices down. She might not be into clubbing, but she's my sister.” Sighing, she got to her feet. “I'm going to pop to the bathroom, and then I want to get out of this apartment. Can one of you guys go stir Judy and tell her that we're heading to a bar?”

  With that, she headed out of the room, leaving Gemma and Kay sitting alone for a moment in silence.

  “Go on, then,” Kay said finally.

  “Go on what?”

  “Go and wake Judy up.”

  “You go.”

  “I said it first.”

  “So? I don't even want her to come with us tonight. She's such a drag.”

  “Fine.” Sighing heavily, Kay got to her feet. “We can lose her in the club, anyway,” she pointed out as she headed through to the corridor. “That place is like a goddamn labyrinth.”

  Reaching the half-open door to the first bedroom, she stopped for a moment and knocked lightly. She waited, but all she heard was the sound of Merrie getting ready in the bathroom.

  “Judy?” Kay called out finally. “We're going to head to a bar, and then maybe the club. Are you coming?”

  She waited.

  No reply.

  Pushing the door open slightly, she peered through and saw the motionless shape of Judy on the bed, her features obscured by the duvet mounds. She waited a moment, noticing a slightly sweet smell in the air.

  “Judy?” she continued finally. “Are you coming?”

  She waited.

  Nothing.

  “I guess you're not used to all the alcohol, huh?” she said finally. “Lightweight. So are you gonna chill here for a while?”

  She waited.

  “Okay,” she continued, “so you're staying here? Is that your answer?”

  She waited again.

  Finally, slowly, she bumped the door shut, just as Merrie emerged from the bathroom.

  “You bitches had better be ready to move,” Merrie said as she stopped and checked her hair in the hallway mirror. “I need a beer to get myself moving again.”

  “Judy's hanging,” Kay replied, as Gemma emerged from the kitchen. “I think she's suffering from last night.”

  “Then turf the lazy cow out of bed,” Merrie said.

  “I think she just wants to rest,” Kay told her. “Don't bother disturbing her. Let her snooze while we're at the bar. Then, when we come back to get ready for Apocalypse, I'm sure she'll be fighting fit. It might even put her in a better mood.”

  Merrie paused, before reaching for the door handle.

  “I really don't think she wants to be disturbed,” Kay said firmly. “Come on, you know what it's like when you're really hanging. Let the poor girl sleep.”

  Merrie hesitated, before rolling her eyes and heading over to the main door.

  “I'm gonna rip her about this later,” she said as she pulled the door open and stepped outside. “Sometimes I think my older sister is the wimpiest wimp who ever wimped around anywhere.”

  “Did you really tell Judy we're going out?” Gemma whispered as Merrie disappeared from view.

  “Of course I did,” Kay said, with mock offense, before smiling. “I mean, it's not my fault if the idiot didn't wake up. If she's that far gone, she probably shouldn't come out anyway. I'm only thinking of her best interests here.”

  “Whatever,” Gemma added with a giggle, heading to the door. “Let's roll.”

  “Have a good nap, Judy,” Kay said, following and then pulling the door shut as she too started to smirk.

  As the sound of their laughter and footsteps receded into the distance, the apartment fell eerily silent. And in one of the single beds, Judy lay completely still.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “They don't have a name,” Mr. Velucci said proudly, as he looked down at the writhing black mess that was constantly churning in his opened chest. “Not that I know of anyway. I have refrained from giving them a name of my own devising. That wouldn't be my place. They can name themselves, when they are ready, although I have a sneaking suspicion that I know what they should be called.”

  Staring in shock, Ruth watched as thick tentacles slipped past one another in Mr. Velucci's chest cavity. Occasionally there was a small gap, allowing her to see her boss's heart buried deep within the black mass.

  “I think they should be called... human,” Mr. Velucci continued.

  She looked up at his face.

  “Human?” she stammered, feeling a flicker of nausea in her belly.

  “They are the real humans,” he said. “We are the hosts, or the husks. We are the cocoons for these beautiful, exceptional butterflies.” He paused, clearly amused by her reaction. “Tell me, Ruth, does any of this seem familiar to you? As if perhaps you've seen it before?”

  “This isn't real,” she replied, taking another step back. “I don't know how you're doing this, but it's some kind of trick.”

  “Look at the plumpness,” he continued. “Look at the vitality, at the moisture. There's nothing wrong or nasty about any of this. The creature is positively throbbing with life.”

  Ruth shook her head.

  “This is what we really are,” he said “when we stop trying to deny our true forms. When we stop pumping ourselves with drugs in vain attempts to keep our true natures down.” He looks back at the creature in his chest. “They've been trying to break through for so long now. When we poison them, they fight back as best they can. There was an outbreak some time ago, in a hospital in England. Because of all the poison, the humans and their hosts became sick, lumbering beasts. Do you know what those beasts were labeled by the authorities?”

  He looked back at Ruth.

  “Zombies,” he added with a smile. “Can you believe that? The whole zombie myth turns out to be caused by a sickness, and that sickness occurs when the future is denied.”

  “I think... I think maybe I need to go,” Ruth said cautiously. “Um, yeah, I think maybe this is a little bit too much for me.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I just...”

  She couldn't look away from the glistening black creature.

  “Don't let fear push you away,” Mr. Velucci said firmly, before reaching out and grabbing her wrist. “Your predecessor ran before I had a chance to help her understand. She could have done untold damage if she'd been able to tell others what she'd seen, but that's the problem with half-glimpsed miracles. They're scary. You need to see the whole thing, and to hear it too. That's why I'm going to afford you the great privilege of an audience.”

  “Mr. Velucci,” she replied, “I -”

  “If I calm my own mind with meditation,” he continued, “I can let it speak through my mouth. Listen.”

  “Mr. Velucci, please -”

  Before she could finish, she saw him lean his head back. His eyes were still opened, but slowly the pupils rolled up and out of sight as his mouth began to twitch.

  “Mr. Velucci,” she said, trying to politely slip free of his grip, “I think maybe I'm not the right person for this position.”

  Finding his hold too strong, she realized she'd have to be more forceful. She reached down and tried to peel his fingers away, but as she did so she realized there was a faint groan coming from deep in his throat. The last thing she wanted was to be disrespectful to a cancer patient, but at the same time she was really starting to think that this whole new job had been a huge mistake. All she wanted was to get away, politely inform Mr. Velucci that she'd changed her mind, and go back to the tattoo studio down in town. She missed Javier and -

  “I can see you,” a voice growled suddenly.

  Ruth froze, and then slowly she turned and saw that Mr. Velucci's eyes wer
e still rolled back in their sockets.

  “I can see you,” he said again, his jaw clicking each time it moved now. “You are not the one who is coming. You are like the last one. Empty.”

  “I...”

  Ruth tried to think of some kind of response, but she was starting to think that this whole situation had gone way beyond words.

  “Why does he keep bringing empty ones?” Mr. Velucci continued. “Where is the chosen one?”

  “Chosen one?” Ruth replied, trying not to panic. “I think maybe this is none of my business and -”

  “I cannot hear you,” Mr. Velucci said suddenly, interrupting her. “The beat is too loud. Sometimes it drives me to distraction. Soon the beat will end, but for now I must allow it to continue. It brings me life.”

  “That's great,” Ruth said, starting once again to try peeling Mr. Velucci's hand away from her wrist. “Sir, I'm really sorry but I just remembered something I have to do in town. Would it be okay if I took a personal day and came back tomorrow?”

  “I want you to look at me.”

  “Sir, it's not -”

  “Why won't you look at me?”

  She looked at his white eyes and tried not to let her horror show.

  “I'm looking at you,” she stammered. “See? It's just -”

  “Look at me.”

  “I am, Mr. Velucci, Sir, it's just -”

  “Look at me.”

  “Can you please let go of my -”

  “Look. At. Me.”

  “Sir, I really want to go now.”

  “Look.”

  “I am! I just -”

  Suddenly something moved in the corner of her eye. She glanced down briefly at the hole in his chest, and she saw the writing black mass of tentacles. And then, just as she was about to look back at her wrist, she spotted something glistening deep in the mass.

  A dark eye.

  For a moment she could only stare, while telling herself that she was wrong. Yet as the tentacles continued to slither, the eye remained fixed on her, and she saw the dark central ring slowly expanding as if to take in more light.

  “Thank you,” Mr. Velucci growled. “Finally, you're looking at me.”

  “This isn't real,” Ruth whispered, trying to force back the growing sense of absolute horror that was now spreading through her soul. “This is some kind of sick joke.”

  “I need you,” the voice replied. “You must help me.”

  Ruth took a step back, and this time she managed to force her wrist out of his grip.

  “Mr. Velucci,” she said nervously, “I -”

  Suddenly she felt a hand touch her arm from behind, and she spun around to find that Mr. Ford had entered the room and crept up behind her.

  “Now you see,” he said with a smile. “Welcome, Ms. McCoy, to the future of our world.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Something about that place isn't right,” Colin muttered to himself as he sat at a table outside a bar opposite Apocalypse. His eyes were fixed on the red neon sign, which was currently switched off. “Something's off.”

  “You're not gonna start talking yourself out of a good opportunity, are you?” Greg asked, taking a sip from his pint. “You always do that.”

  “There's a vibe about that place, man,” Colin continued, as he fiddled with a beer-mat and slowly tore away small strips. “You can't seriously tell me you haven't noticed.”

  Greg opened his mouth to answer, before hearing some giggles nearby. He turned just in time to see Merrie, Kay and Gemma sitting at another table, and for a second he made eye contact with Kay and they exchanged a smile. Now all his other concerns were gone, and he looked at Kay's bare legs as he began to wonder how he might be able to strike up a conversation.

  “I don't like Apocalypse,” Colin said after a moment. “I don't know if I want to work there another night.”

  Realizing that Greg hadn't replied, he turned and saw that he was still watching the girls.

  “You're pathetic,” he said with a sigh as he got to his feet and downed the rest of his beer. “I'm going back over the road to get my stuff, and I really don't think I'll be sticking to the job. Thanks, man, but if it's all the same I think I'm gonna look for something a little less weird. I totally understand that you like it there, but I'm out.”

  He waited, but Greg's attention was now firmly directed toward the girls.

  “Whatever,” Colin added, sighing again as he turned and headed across the street. “I'm starting to think this town isn't for me anymore.”

  ***

  He was still muttering to himself an hour later, as he finished putting his tools back into his backpack. Down in Apocalypse's basement now, he was almost ready to leave, and he was more convinced than ever that this was the best decision he'd made in a while.

  Closing the backpack, he glanced at the pipes running up a nearby wall. For a moment he thought back to the sight of the thin black tendril he'd spotted during the previous night. He knew it had been real, but he felt no urge to take the place apart and figure out what he'd actually seen. He was more than happy to leave the whole mystery behind, and in the back of his mind he was already pretty certain that his days on the island were numbered.

  He was ready to go back to England.

  “See you around,” he said finally, hauling his backpack over his shoulder and heading out into the corridor.

  And then he saw her.

  There was a girl standing at the corridor's far end, with her back to him. She was wearing a yellow dress, and as Colin stared he began to realize that one of the drunk revelers from the previous night must have somehow wandered down into the guts of the building.

  “Hey!” he called out. “You're a bit lost. You need to go back upstairs!”

  He waited, but the girl didn't reply.

  “Great,” he muttered, “she must still be hungover.”

  Or worse.

  He hated people on drugs.

  “Hey!” he said again, as he began to make his way up behind the girl. “You're not supposed to be down here. Come on, I'll get you out the back before anyone notices.”

  He stopped a few meters from the girl, but still she failed to react. And before he could open his mouth to speak to her again, Colin noticed that her dress seemed a little dirty, and that there were scratches on her legs.

  “Are you okay?” he asked cautiously, as he began to worry that maybe something had happened to her during the night. “Do you need me to call someone?”

  He slipped his backpack off and stepped closer. Reaching out, he was about to touch the girl's shoulder when he realized that maybe that wouldn't be appropriate. After all, he was starting to think that something bad had taken place, and he wanted to make sure that he didn't make the situation worse.

  “Do you want me to call the police?” he asked. “I can, if something's happened. Can you tell me your name?”

  He waited.

  “My name's Colin,” he told her. “It's okay, I'm friendly.”

  He waited a moment longer, and then finally – figuring that he had no choice – he touched the girl's bare shoulder.

  “You're freezing,” he told her, and now he was beginning to notice that her skin looked deathly pale. “Do you want me to go and get a woman to talk to you? Maybe that'd be better, yeah? Then you can tell her what happened. Just wait right here and I'll go and find someone.”

  He turned to walk away, but at that moment he heard a sudden creaking, crunching sound coming from behind. Stopping, he turned and looked back at the girl, only to find that she was now facing him.

  He opened his mouth to ask again if she was okay, but then he saw the blood smeared on the side of her face.

  And the way her jaw was hanging half open.

  And then he looked down and saw that her ribs had been torn away from her chest, exposing a dark red, bloodied mass of flesh and muscle.

  “What the fuck?” he whispered, before looking back at the girl's face. “Is this some kind of -
”

  Before he could finish, she screamed and lunged at him, shoving him against the wall and then biting down hard on the side of his neck. As her teeth bit through his skin, Colin cried out and tried to push her away, but it took a moment before he was able to send her thudding against the opposite wall.

  Turning, he began to hurry along the corridor, but he could hear a splattering sound and after a moment he realized that blood was spraying from the wound on his neck. He reached up and tried to put a hand over the damaged area, but now he could feel hot blood bursting between his fingers.

  “Fuck,” he stammered, “fucking -

  Suddenly the girl rushed at him from behind, knocking him to the ground and landing on top of him before leaning down and taking a large bit out of the back of his neck. This time, no matter how hard he tried, Colin was unable to push the girl away, and he could only let out a faint gurgle as he felt teeth scraping against the top of his spine.

  ***

  “What's going on over there?” Merrie asked, looking across the road and seeing two police officers arguing loudly with one another.

  “Huh?”

  Greg turned and watched for a moment, and then he turned back to the girls.

  “What are they saying?” Merrie continued. “It sounds like something's wrong.”

  “I only speak a little bit of Spanish,” Greg told her. “They're going on about something that's gone missing. Something about the hospital, I think. Or the morgue. I don't know.” He turned to Kay. “So you were just telling me what you did at Christmas. Come on, it sounds fun. Spill the rest.”

  Kay returned to her story, and both Greg and Gemma laughed as they listened.

  Merrie, however, had heard the story plenty of times before. She was still watching the police officers, and she couldn't help thinking that something seemed very wrong.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You have to understand the magnitude of what's happening here,” Mr. Ford explained as he stopped outside onto the patio and turned to Ruth. “What you just saw -”