It was like a deadly game of hide-and-seek, Gwen thought — she and Rhys sneaking through the streets of Cardiff, peering around corners, scuttling from one piece of cover to the next. They were trying to get from their previous location south of Butetown up to central police headquarters north of the Millennium Stadium. It was no more than a brisk half-hour's walk on a normal day, but present circumstances had transformed the journey into a major expedition across a treacherous war zone. Zombies were everywhere — disorganised and slow-moving, but potentially lethal due to their sheer numbers. Now and again, Gwen and Rhys happened upon grim reminders of just how dangerous the creatures could be. So far they had found four partially eaten bodies and one eviscerated dog.
Seeing the first body lying in the street, its guts strewn about like litter, Rhys had thrown up — and then had immediately apologised for being a wuss.
'There's nothing wrong with puking, Rhys. It just shows you're human,' Gwen assured him.
'That's not what you say when I've got my head in the bog the morning after I've had a skinful,' he joked weakly.
They had managed to make it across the River Taff and along Penarth Road, heading towards St Mary Street without serious mishap. However, when Gwen rounded a corner not far from Callaghan Square, she immediately jumped back into the shadows.
Rhys was behind her, gripping his golf club. 'What is it?' he hissed.
'Zombies. Lots of them.'
'Let's have a look.'
'A quick one then. But be careful.'
He raised an eyebrow. 'I'm hardly going to jump out and wave to them, am I?'
Gwen smiled an apology. She was aware she was often overprotective of Rhys, even treated him like a child on occasion, but that was only because he hadn't had the same number of life-threatening experiences as she had, and was therefore more likely to make mistakes. She flattened herself against the wall as he edged past her and peered around the corner. He ducked back again after a few seconds.
'How we gonna get past that lot?' he said.
Before Gwen could respond, there was the tinkling crash of glass, followed instantly by a scream — though of fear rather than agony.
Instantly she was up on her toes. 'There must be people in that café. We've got to help them.'
'How?' asked Rhys.
Gwen peeked around the corner again. Perhaps the sheer number of zombies milling around the café entrance should have alerted her to the fact that there were people inside, but she hadn't been able to see beyond the crush of shuffling bodies. Even the lights of the largely glass-fronted café were off, which she realised either meant they had been damaged whilst the undead had been seeking a way into the building, or they had been deliberately extinguished by the café's occupants in the hope of fooling the creatures into thinking the place was empty. 'Maybe we can get in round the back.'
Rhys looked doubtful. 'If we can get in, what's to stop the people in there getting out?'
She looked at him, unable to answer, but knowing that she couldn't just walk away from this, that she had to help in whichever way she could. In the end she simply shrugged. 'I don't know, Rhys. But let's have a look, shall we? I mean, anything we can do. .'
He nodded resignedly, and she realised that he felt the same way. 'Come on then.'
On an impulse she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and kissed him hard on the lips.
'What's that then?' he asked. 'Last kiss before going into battle?'
She shuddered. 'Don't say "last". Don't even think it.' She took another quick look around the corner, assessing the lie of the land.
'I'll go first,' she said. 'I'll turn sharp left and head for that red Citroën. Soon as I get there, you follow me. I'll cover you in case you get spotted, but keep alert, Rhys. Don't let them catch you by surprise.'
He nodded, and she kissed him briefly again. 'I love you,' she said.
'Love you too,' he said. 'Good luck.'
Gwen took another glance at the zombies, all of which still seemed to be focused on the café, then slipped around the corner like a shadow and ran in a half-crouch to the Citroën she had pointed out to Rhys. As soon as she had dropped out of sight behind the vehicle, Rhys followed her. Behind him there was another crash of glass, another scream. Then he heard a man shout, 'Get back!' Next second he was dropping down on to his haunches beside Gwen.
'They're getting in,' she said. 'We'll have to hurry.' She pointed to her left. 'Bus shelter next, OK? Same procedure as before.'
Again, Rhys gave a brief nod, and Gwen was off, silent and fleet-footed. In this way, moving swiftly but carefully from one bit of cover to the next, they circled around the thirty or so zombies clustered around the front of the café, and round to the alley at the back of the row of shops.
The alley was narrow, little more than a badly lit aisle, barely wide enough for a single car. It was flanked on both sides by the back entrances to parallel rows of retail units. Here were the emergency exits, the tradesmen's entrances, the discarded boxes and the industrial steel bins stinking of rubbish. It was an area of dark shadows and potential hiding places.
'We'll be like sitting ducks in here,' Rhys hissed, sneaking into the alley behind Gwen.
'The sooner we get this done the better, then,' Gwen replied.
Their shadows shrank and lengthened as they moved from one caged orange light to the next. Rhys gripped his golf club in both hands, head turning from left to right, heart constantly lurching as his overactive imagination showed him zombies everywhere — watching from windows, standing in alcoves, emerging from dark places where the light couldn't reach. In front of him, Gwen was swinging her gun from side to side, pointing it into every potential hiding place. They could still hear the commotion from the street — the wordless moans of the undead, the dull thumps and bangs as they tried to gain access to the café, the occasional shouts of the people inside. The sounds were faint at first, but became gradually louder as Gwen and Rhys crept further along the alley. This at least helped them to identify which building they were aiming for. From the back they all looked the same.
When they were a couple of metres from the arch in the high brick wall which led into the café's backyard, Gwen halted and raised a hand.
'What is it?' hissed Rhys.
'I thought I saw something move.'
'What sort of something?'
'I don't know. A shadow.' She smiled nervously. 'Course, I may have imagined it.'
Pumpkin-orange light bathed the wall, but this only made the darkness beyond the arch all the more impenetrable. Indeed, the blackness was so dense that it seemed almost solid. Gwen and Rhys stood motionless on the far side of the alley for a good thirty seconds, both of them holding their breath, their eyes trained on the narrow black entrance. They half-expected something to emerge from it, but nothing did. At last Gwen gestured with her gun and whispered, 'I'm going in.'
She crossed the alley, flattened her back against the wall and edged towards the arch, leading with her gun. Rhys watched, licking his dry lips to moisten them. Gwen was almost at the gap when a white hand snaked over the wall above her and grabbed a fistful of her thick black hair.
She yelled in pain, involuntarily rising onto her toes as the hand tightened into a fist and yanked upwards. Rhys ran across the alley, raised the club and brought it smashing down on the bony wrist. To his surprise there was a howl of pain from the other side of the wall and the hand loosened its grip, allowing Gwen to tear herself free. Without thinking, Rhys ran through the gap in the wall, and into the darkness of the café's backyard, drawing back the golf club for another blow.