TEN

We hike through St James’s Park, skirt Buckingham Palace and enter Green Park. That links up with Hyde Park, and soon we’re strolling along as if on a fun day out. We stick to the middle of the park, so we have a clear view in all directions.

We relax our guard slightly and Emma lets Declan run around, chasing after him, playing games. But we don’t let either of them slip too far away, wary of hidden threats.

The grass has grown wild since the downfall of mankind. Old scraps of rubbish blow across it. Weeds snake through the bones of human carcasses. But this is still a soothing place. In these green stretches it’s possible to imagine that the apocalypse never happened. If I use my imagination, it could be a quiet Sunday morning, early, before any joggers or tourists are about. I might be on my way home from an all-night party, Mum and Dad waiting for me, angry but concerned, school on Monday, boring but reassuring, all my friends to catch up with.

I shake my head and frown. There’s no use thinking that way. The world’s gone to hell and the only way to deal with it is to accept it for what it is. No point trying to live in the past. That’s for saps.

We eventually run out of park and pause to prepare for the next stretch. It’s a fairly straight, wide road most of the way to Hammersmith. On paper it’s a doddle. In the flesh it looks a lot less straightforward.

‘What about a car?’ Emma asks, spotting one stranded in the road nearby.

‘The noise would draw attention,’ Carl tells her.

‘But we could move faster than the zombies, couldn’t we?’ she persists.

‘Yes,’ Carl says, ‘but they could attack from the side or throw themselves in the way and make us crash. Then we’d be trapped and they’d just have to swarm round the car and force their way in.’

‘It will be fine,’ Ashtat reassures Emma. ‘You survived on the streets for months, and that was without our help.’

‘But I didn’t move about this much,’ Emma says. ‘I only travelled short distances any time I left my base. And I kept to the shadows. We’ll be in full view of any watching zombies out here.’

‘That’s the best place to be,’ I chuckle, pointing at the hole in my chest. ‘When they see this, and some of our other wounds, they’ll know we’re undead. Seeing us in the mix, they’ll assume we’re all zombies. I mean, everyone knows that zombies and the living don’t get along, right?’

Emma licks her lips nervously. ‘If you’re sure …’

‘We are,’ Rage grunts and we move out of the park and on to the road.

Things go more smoothly than we anticipated. We’re attacked several times, but by individuals or small groups. And they only cause us any difficulties if they’re hiding behind cars and leap out at us suddenly as we approach. The rest – the ones lounging in buildings on either side of the road – are easy to deal with, as we see them coming from a long way off and have plenty of time to get ready for them.

‘This is too easy,’ Shane mutters as he rips another zombie’s brain from its skull then wipes his hand clean on the back of the dead creature’s shirt.

‘Don’t get cocky,’ I snap.

‘I’m not,’ he says. ‘I’m worried. When you have things this easy, it usually means you’re going to run into all kinds of trouble later.’

‘Don’t be a pessimist,’ Carl grunts, but I know he’s thinking the same thing. We all are, except maybe Rage. He’s the sort of guy who always expects a smooth ride, since he figures the world was made for him in the first place.

But despite our fears the big catastrophe fails to materialise. We aren’t attacked by gangs. We never need to break formation or run. We don’t end up trapped in a building with no way out.

In a weird way it’s an anti-climax. We were ready for fireworks, but we barely have to bloody our fists. Still, I guess that’s a good thing, if not for us, then definitely for Emma and Declan.

We run into a minor problem in Hammersmith. There’s a flyover we want to pass under, but the shaded area is packed with zombies. A few catch sight of us and get to their feet. For a second it looks like we’re in trouble. But then they spot the hole in my chest and the green moss growing from the cuts on some of the others. The zombies lie down again, not bothering to shuffle forward to investigate more closely, never realising that there are a couple of jokers in the pack.

We find another way around, making use of side roads, and arrive at our destination as the midday sun is burning bright in the sky. The humans are holed up in a block of offices. We pause outside the entrance and stare at the building. It still feels like we’ve had it too easy. I half-expect Mr Dowling and his mutants to come abseiling down.

Instead what happens is something almost as surprising, but nowhere near as alarming. Declan speaks for the first time since I’ve known him.

‘Doggy.’

All of us gawp at the normally silent boy. Emma’s face lights up and she hugs him, then starts to cry happily. Maybe she thought he would never speak again. But Declan ignores her tears. He’s looking at the road behind us and he points over her shoulder.

‘Doggy,’ he says again.

‘Bloody hell,’ Shane laughs. ‘He’s not wrong. Look.’

We slipped under a rising entry barrier on our way into the yard surrounding the building. Now when I look back, I spot a large, hairy sheepdog standing on the other side.

‘Isn’t it beautiful,’ Ashtat coos as I do a stunned double take. She drops to her knees and makes a clicking noise with her tongue and teeth. ‘Here, doggy.’

The dog ignores her. Its tail isn’t wagging. It’s staring at us.

The sheepdog is white at the front, turning to grey further back. Its hair is dirty and matted with dried bloodstains. The others are enchanted by it, not having seen a live dog since before the zombies rose up and killed them all for their brains. They join Ashtat in calling and whistling, trying to get it to come closer.

I’m less excited by the dog. In fact I’m seriously disturbed. When I was making my way to Timothy’s gallery after Rage had pushed me off the London Eye, I came across a dog just like this. It was resting in the road and ran off when I tried to get it to come. It had the same markings and stains as this one.

Maybe the dog followed me and has been trailing me ever since, but I doubt it. I would surely have seen it before if it had made its home close to County Hall. So what other explanations are there? Is it coincidence that our paths have crossed again? Or perhaps it’s a different dog that just looks the same?

I glance around, uneasy but not sure why. As Ashtat and the rest call to the dog and click their fingers, I suddenly shout at it, ‘Get out of here, you ugly mutt!’

The dog bolts and everyone glares at me.

‘What did you do that for?’ Ashtat cries.

‘I don’t like dogs,’ I lie.

‘Even so, you didn’t have to scare it off,’ Ashtat pouts. ‘I think we could have persuaded it to come to us. You could have simply stood back.’

‘There was blood on its fur,’ I improvise. ‘It might have been zombie blood. It could have infected Emma and Declan.’

Ashtat frowns and considers that. As she’s thinking it over, the door to the building opens behind us and someone calls out chirpily, ‘I knew that was B Smith even before I heard your voice. I recognised the smell.’

We whirl round. The others squint at the dark-skinned stranger on the steps, not sure what to make of his unexpected greeting. But he’s no stranger to me, and as he stands there smirking, I take a trembling step forward and croak his name with disbelief.

‘Vinyl?’