Stella the Zombie Killer

Stella the Zombie Killer Part 18

Stella stared at the blue and green chandelier suspended above the desk in the rotunda. She shifted on Gregor's work table. There was a small pillow but nothing else. Even so, her eyes lids were heavy, drooping as sleep tugged on them with heavy fingers, but she didn't want to sleep. Not yet. The clawed fingers of deads still groped at her ankles as she swung on the rope. The memory of the pain in her shoulder was something solid in her mind, as if someone had opened her skull and held a light bulb to the back of her brain. The rough hemp of the rope still scoured the skin on her palms. The dizziness was still swirling in her head, making her feel sick as if she were drunk.

'Don't fight it,' said Gregor. 'Sleep. I can work on you in the morning.'

'Did anyone ever tell you have a wonderful way with words?' Stella muttered.

'No,' said Gregor. He was bending over her, shining a light into of her eyes. He had already cleaned and bandaged her arm, the stark white of the dressing brilliant against her black vest and filthy flesh, but the rest would have to wait until she had rested.

'Not surprised,' she said, trying to smile but looking like she had forgotten how.

Gregor's head bobbed in and out of Stella's vision. The chandelier gave him a blue-green halo.

'You're an angel,' said Stella. Her voice was woozy. Gregor had injected her with morphine and she felt nothing but sickness and memories.

Gregor grunted. 'Could do with one of those. Your new friend coming back?'

'Gonna bring a friend. Gonna fly.' Stella giggled. 'Can't get in the front door. He'll have to land in the garden. Hook will be mad. Meathead mad. Jealous mad. Runner-bean mad. Can you get garden rage? Seems like you should. Hook the slug killer!'

'Sleep now,' said Gregor, ignoring her rants. 'It's the best rest you can get.'

'Don't like the view,' said Stella, her voice sulky. 'Don't like the view,' she repeated.

'You want some help to sleep?'

Stella nodded dopily. Gregor grabbed a syringe from a cupboard beneath the desk. 'Just the one shot,' he said to her gently. 'Just to help you sleep.' He grabbed cotton wool and tipped a bottle of antiseptic up into it. Pulling her arm gently towards him, turned it over to reveal the inside of her elbow. She was still streaked with sweat and blood and dirt. He dabbed at her skin with the cotton wool, revealing the tanned flesh beneath. Her muscles were small but dense, like rocks just below the surface of a running river. 'It'll only hurt for a second,' he said, hushing her as she groaned a little. He slid the needle into her vein and pressed the liquid into her blood stream.

Immediately her eyes drifted closed. 'Take a little nap now,' she mumbled. 'Do the chickens tomorrow.'

'Chickens can wait,' Gregor agreed.

All night long the deads pushed against the solid wooden doors. Gregor had had one last check after helping Stella to fall asleep. There was no strain on the bars, the deads' scraping and tapping no more hurtful to the wood than rain. No one bothered to watch the doors as all through the Victoria and Albert the survivors slept, fitfully, through the bland noise and the darker hours.

Hook snored loudly. Jared, his head spinning after he had vomited into the water reclamation unit, had rolled off the cafeteria benches and now cuddled his coat on the floor. Gregor had stared at the ceiling for a long time, memories of the deads he had faced and Stella's wounds racing through his mind.