Thirteen Roses Book Four: Alone: A Paranormal Zombie Saga by Michael Cairns Read Free Book Online Page A

no signs of breaking up. Something was driving them, keeping them together. Maybe it was the music, their love of metal forming some kind of unconscious bond. He laughed and shook his head. That was just daft. They were linked by the last thing they’d been doing, watching the movie.  
    It was an interesting thing to consider. Or it would be once they got through them and away. Krystal was right, though. There was no clear way through and there was no reason to risk it. He gunned the engine and got closer but they were packed in together. With a shake of his head, Luke swung the bike around and headed back towards Krystal.
    She’d stopped, forgetting the first rule he’d taught her and already there were two zombies coming at her from behind. He pointed and she jumped, checking over her shoulder before hastily getting her bike moving. She was in time, though only just, and turned as he came past her. They raced together back to Embankment and around the front of the Houses of Parliament.  
    He glanced at the huge building as they rode past. It was beautiful. And it was filled with zombies in suits. He wondered whether they were still in session, sitting in their silly chamber shouting, or growling at one another. He cracked a grin as they headed past and up to Lambeth Bridge.  
    It was considerably quieter as they powered over the river. Krystal looked comfortable on the bike, just as she looked comfortable with the sword in her hand. She was wobbly in execution, but that would come soon enough. Between her, Bayleigh and Jackson, they had a half-decent chance of dealing with any zombies that attacked them on the journey out of town.  
    He hadn’t discussed the entire plan with them yet. It meant more discourse and he couldn’t be doing with that. He knew what they needed to do and the endless discussion was tiresome. He was hoping the ladies would agree with him and the others would just be carried along.  
    On the other side of the river they picked up the A2 and opened the throttles. The cars were piled thickly all the way down, crash after crash. This was something he still hadn’t figured out abut their escape. Every major road out of London would be crammed, and getting a vehicle big enough to hold everyone would make it tough to get through.  
    On the bikes, it was a pleasure weaving through the cars. He lost himself in the movement, feeling how every lean transferred through the bike and into the wheels. He’d seen surfing and imagined it would feel like this, but never riding a bike. They never mentioned this sort of thing in the Flights.  
    He was so intent on the movement, he didn’t see the zombie until way too late. It was leaning out of a car window, trapped but eager for freedom. The bike snapped off both arms and tore its head off, but the impact sent Luke flying.  
    He flew off the bike, over the bonnet of the next car along, and slammed into the rear window of the next. The gentle thud as an arm followed him over made his stomach turn as his head threatened to cave in. He heard the distant screech of tires as Krystal stopped, before the corners of his vision went dark.  
    He curled up on the floor, gripping his bruised skull, and lost himself in the hammering that made him want to vomit. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Five minutes ago he’d been criticising Krystal for not focusing and here he’d done exactly the same thing.  
    The pain lessened enough for him to sit up and be grateful there’d been no zombies near enough to take advantage. He blinked, looked around, and his heart jumped into his mouth like a stupid angel taking a swan dive off a motorbike. A zombie’s face was pressed up against the window less than two feet from where he sat. Its lips were bared, exposed by cracked lips pulled back far enough for him to see the gums.  
    Its teeth clicked against the window and he shoved himself back until he bumped into the car behind. He sneered and rose to his feet, embarrassed at his most