There was a noticeable drop in temperature as soon as Cat stepped beneath the awning. She stopped there for a while, peering ahead. There were drapes ahead of her, so she couldn’t see past the entrance. She thought about waiting here, but what good would that achieve? The zombies weren’t going to leave, and it wasn’t like she could slip off during the night when they were asleep—the undead had no need for sleep, and the hours of the night were theirs.
As Cat hesitated, torn between advancing and turning back to try to make a break for the tunnel, the drapes suddenly parted and a man stepped through.
“Come on,” the man snapped. “We don’t have all day. It doesn’t pay to keep Mr. Dowling waiting.”
Cat gaped at the man. He was like nobody she had ever seen, not even the decaying zombies. His skin was a mess, purple in places, covered with pus-filled sores. In some areas strips of it were peeling away. He had limp gray hair and eerie yellow eyes. Some of his teeth were missing and the rest were black and rotting. Cat could smell the stench of his breath even this far away. He was wearing a ratty hoodie, but the hood was pushed back to reveal his face.
“What’s the matter?” the man smirked. “Never seen a mutant before?”
“What… are you?” Cat croaked.
“The last person you’ll ever see if you don’t get a move on,” he huffed. When Cat just shook her head and stared wide-eyed, he sighed impatiently. “The name’s Kinslow. I’m your usher for the day. Come with me and I’ll show you to your seat.”
“Seat?” Cat echoed weakly, looking back at the zombies in the stands.
“Not up there,” Kinslow chuckled. “This is a seat inside. Come on,” he said again, leaning forward this time and extending a hand to her. “You don’t want to miss the show, do you?”
“Are you infectious?” Cat asked, eyeing the hand uneasily.
“No,” Kinslow said. “You’re perfectly safe with me.”
Cat licked her lips, started to stretch out a hand, stopped. “I want to go home,” she whimpered.
“I know,” Kinslow said kindly. Then his features hardened. “But this isn’t a time for going home. It’s a time for doing what Mr. Dowling tells you to do. And he wants you to come see the show.”
“Who is he?” Cat wheezed. “What does he want with me? How did you get the zombies to chase me here? You did, didn’t you? You controlled them with the whistles and had them chase me up the High Road.”
“Not me personally,” Kinslow said. “But people like me, yeah.” He snapped his fingers. “You’ll find more answers inside, but I’m not gonna wait for you forever. Come with me now or I’ll leave you here for the zombies.”
Cat shuddered, then steeled herself and took Kinslow’s hand. He tutted when he realized she was wearing gloves, and quickly peeled them off. Cat didn’t protest as he tossed them away before taking her hand again. His palm was warmer than she had anticipated, sticky with dried pus.
“Will I be OK in there?” she asked as he led her forward and pushed aside the drapes.
“With Mr. Dowling to look after you?” Kinslow replied with a friendly purr. He shook his head and the purr turned into a wicked cackle. “I doubt it!”