Stella the Zombie Killer

Stella the Zombie Killer Part 10

The street in front of the Natural History Museum was silent. Deads drifted towards the broken windows at the bottom of the towers, drawn by the noise and the arrival of the angel. They were slow and awkward, disinterested; their movements fluid, inevitable, heavy, like tar sliding down a window on a hot day. Soon there was a cluster of them around the base of the towers, spilling to stand stubbornly in front of the heavy doors.

Gregor watched from the high windows of the Victoria and Albert, his eyes darting backwards and forwards over the growing crowd. He nodded grimly and made his decision.

***

'Alive?' said Hook. 'How is he alive? I've not seen a live angel since the crash.'

'Me neither,' said Stella, 'but look at him. He's alive.'

Michael Vine, the living angel, sat in the corner of the room at the top of one of the Natural History Museum's towers. Sort of in the corner; the space wasn't big enough for him, and so the bulk of his white armour meant that he sat somewhere closer to the middle of the room. Through the doorway, he regarded Stella and Hook coolly, as if he found it slightly amusing that they might consider themselves his captors.

Stella and Hook looked over their shoulders at the man/machine. They were standing on the landing outside of the room. He stared back, completely unfazed. 'I think he's okay,' Stella whispered.

'You think everyone's okay,' Hook replied. He pulled Stella away from the doorway and whispered urgently. 'What are you gonna do, check his wrists and ankles and invite him home for tea?'

Stella looked up at Hook's face, saw the deep mistrust and the bitterness and the regret. 'He's a man, a person. We save people.'

'You're not the Cynosure, not anymore. You can't save everybody, Stella.'

'I can save the ones I find.'

'Change the record. We can't take it. We can't trust it. We can't feed it.'

'He is a person. He will be trustworthy. He will need to pull his weight, which in his case is a bit more than the rest of us. He can find the extra food.'

Hook stepped back from her, his hands moving to his shaggy hair and pulling at it. 'This is too much. He's an angel. Angels are bad. Remember those hot lasers? How many times have we had to hide from them?'

'Actually,' said Vine. He raised his voice to be heard through the doorway. 'I can't shoot you. My laser's deactivated.' His voice was deep, altered in some way, or affected by his cybernetics.

'Nice going, meathead,' said Stella. She turned away from him and walked into the room. 'Mr Vine, I apologise for my partner's comments. He doesn't always see an opportunity, even when it's painted with ten foot letters on the side of a merry-go-round.' She glanced sideways at Hook as he entered the room.

Vine's presence made Hook seem less large than usual. He walked in with less certainty than was his habit.

Stella glanced at him, a slight smirk on her face.

'Just Vine is fine,' said the angel. 'And you're the Killer.'

'Not for a long time. At least not in the ring.'

Vine nodded. 'And you're Hook. Centre back for the Falcons,' he said.

Hook couldn't help but smile.

'You never played together,' Vine continued. 'You could have made it with the Mariners.' He pointed at Hook as he said this. Hook again failed to hide his smile.