It was an unremarkable journey until she got to Seven Sisters. She only had a single run-in with a zombie. He had been lying in the doorway of a pet store, an elderly man whose legs didn’t work.
The zombie spotted her coming and dragged himself forward, eager to grab her ankles and haul himself up to bite into her brain. It was no contest. She’d simply stood her ground, shifted slightly to the left as he drew near, and used her spear to impale his brain. After he’d stopped shuddering, she pulled out the spear, cautiously wiped it clean of any dangerously infectious zombie brains and carried on as normal.
There was a large junction outside the Seven Sisters Tube station, where she paused to apply more perfume and have a sip of water. An uneasy feeling crept over her as she was drinking, an itch at the back of her skull. It was probably nothing, but she’d learned to pay attention to her instincts. It was better to react to a false alarm a dozen times than to get caught once.
Cat stepped out of the shadows and moved into the middle of the junction. She was a target now, but it meant she had a clear view in all directions. She turned slowly, fingers flexing. She couldn’t see anything, but that itch was still there, so she held her ground and drew her sword from its scabbard in case it was needed.
All was silent for several minutes. Although she still felt uneasy, Cat figured she’d waited long enough. If something bad was going to happen, it should have happened by now.
Still, she decided to cut short her exploration. Better to retreat and come back another time. She wasn’t going to ignore a warning, even if there was nothing to actually be wary of. She’d return to her base in Muswell Hill, rest up for the night, come back again tomorrow, but this time a different way. If she got the bad feeling again, she’d go look for a different route to Stansted.
Cat began to retrace her steps. She’d covered no more than a few meters when a whistle suddenly rang out, a high, piercing note.
Cat froze, her eyes widening, trying to place the source of the sound. But it was impossible to tell where it had come from. As she waited for it to come again, she spotted movement on the road ahead of her. Her stomach shrank as several zombies lumbered into view, caught sight of her and picked up their pace.
Cat turned to race south but there were more zombies that way. She spared just enough time for a single, foul curse. Then she about-faced and headed north at top speed, up the open Tottenham High Road, the zombies in hot pursuit.