Black London 05 - Soul Trade

said.
    Donovan’s breathing was shallow, and he backed up a step, nearly knocking into Pete. “I can’t do this many,” he murmured. “You and I could run for it, but Mumsy and the brat are deadweight.”
    He looked Pete in the eye. “A Prospero would leave them.”
    “Thank fuck for all of us I’m not a coward like you, then,” Pete growled. “Nowgrab hold of your balls and do what you can.”
    Donovan, hands shaking, drew himself up. Pete felt the Black wriggle around them, as if the skin of the world were a living thing, and the crowd parted, just enough for them to get through single file.
    “Move your arse,” Donovan said through clenched teeth. “This ain’t lasting long.”
    “You first,” Pete told Margaret, pushing the girl ahead of her.Margaret swiveled back, hesitating.
    “Miss Carrie?”
    “I’ll be right behind you,” Carrie whispered. Donovan shoved past her and followed Margaret, hustling her by the arm. Pete decided that when they were somewhere without this strange, staring horde of hostile villagers, she was going to give him a good smack. Or possibly a kiss, if he actually managed to keep the crowd from rioting before theyreached the graveyard.
    The mob had grown exponentially even as they stood in the Leroys’ yard, hundreds upon hundreds of vacant-eyed people staring as one at Pete, Donovan, and Margaret. Carrie brought up the rear, shuddering every time she brushed arms with someone in the crowd.
    Pete could see the rear of the mass of people, the stragglers wandering down the road toward them as if they’d wokenfrom a dream and were still disoriented, when she heard a low exhalation of breath behind her and the big brute who’d nearly disrupted the gathering turned and fixed his gaze on Carrie Leroy.
    “Run,” Pete said, but it was already too late. She watched as the brute grabbed Carrie and dragged her down to the ground. The people around him moaned quietly, and then they too turned, staring down ather, lips parted and crimson, dehydrated tongues flicking between their teeth.
    Carrie Leroy only got out one scream, as Pete watched, her stomach tumbling into infinity. One scream, as the brute clamped down on her throat and the blood welled up, red and thick and steaming against the cool air.
    Pete started back, out of reflex, into the moaning horde, who closed on Carrie with a speed beliedby their stupor. Cloth ripped, and with it flesh; teeth flashed and chins became stained with blood. Pete found herself against a wall of warm, moving, heaving bodies, each of them fighting to draw closer to Carrie, where she lay on the ground, thrashing and croaking out the last breaths of her life. No matter how Pete hit at them, how many she threw aside, there was another body in front of her,and she felt hands rake through her hair and teeth snap against her fingers.
    “Miss Caldecott!” Margaret grabbed her by the arms and hauled her backward, her strength greater than what Pete would have expected from a skinny teenage girl.
    “No!” Pete screamed, and she was shocked at how loudly her voice resonated off the houses around them. “I can’t just leave her there!”
    Margaret’s face was streakedwith grime and tears, but she tugged harder at Pete. “Nothing to do for her now,” she said, barely audible through her sobs. “Please, Pete. Please just come.”
    Pete saw that their avenue was rapidly closing, and she turned and followed Margaret. Because the girl was right—there was nothing else she could do.
    Donovan stopped a dozen yards ahead and gestured at them wildly. “The fuck you doing?Trying to fight off a mob with your bare hands? Get to running!”
    Behind them, the bulk of the crowd still clustered around Carrie’s body, but the outliers had focused their attention on Pete and were moving after her. Pete grabbed tightly to Margaret’s hand. “Don’t look behind you,” she said. “Don’t look anywhere but straight ahead, and don’t stop running until I tell you.”
    Margaret was fast,and she didn’t have a problem keeping pace with Pete and Donovan. Pete ran until she felt like her lungs would explode, but her distance and stride were definitely easier since she’d kicked fags. Maybe all that nonsense in zombie movies had something to it. If only she could solve this problem by putting a few bullets in the skulls of the undead and calling it a job well done.
    The graveyard wasuphill from the village, and Donovan started to flag before they’d gotten