pride and prejudice and zombies:: dreadfull ever after

Part 21

CHAPTER 21

If someone had described Section Twelve Central as "hell" that afternoon, Mary could not have disagreed. Now that it was night, however, she was discovering an unpleasant truth: Even hell can get worse.

Her dealings at Bethlem had been brief yet promising, and afterward she'd lingered a while nearby, observing the comings and goings of the hospital staff. Nezu had suggested the place was heavily guarded, but the wooden watch towers at each corner of the grounds stood empty, and the only sentry was a jumpy old man at the front gate. Mary was hoping Sir Angus would drop in for an evening inspection (or whatever it is "administrators" do): If he did, she would accelerate her plan and follow him inside. Somehow. Yet he never arrived, and when at last it became too dark to see anything of Bethlem but candlelight shimmering dimly through a few barred windows, Mary started back toward One North—and began her second tour of Twelve Central.

As earlier, the streets were lined with bodies awaiting collection. With the corpse wagons gone till dawn, the piles were all the higher, and more of their jaundiced contents had begun to twitch and groan. Here and there, small groups of men attended to the newly awakened with Zed rods, and the cobblestones were slick with pulped brain glistening in the moonlight. For the most part, however, the living of Twelve Central had retreated into their filthy gin shops and tenements, and more than one leaned out an upper-story window to offer commentary as she passed below.

"Ooooo! Looks like a do-gooder went and stayed too long amongst the unwashed. I do hope she's alive in the morning to bring us back more alms!"

"Could you tell the soldiers to pop 'round on your way out, Your Highness? I've a dead chimney sweep stuck up my flue, and he's starting to make an awful fuss."

"You don't want to be out on them streets alone, Milady. Why not come up 'ere and spend the night safe an' sound with ol' Bill?"

Sometimes all Mary heard was a hiss or growl from the shadows, as if even the dreadfuls were heckling her. Yet despite the ghastliness all around, she walked on unafraid. It wasn't just because she had supreme confidence in her own abilities—though that she did. She also knew she wasn't alone. She had an escort, as she had on her way to Bethlem Hospital hours before. There would be a difference this time, though: Soon, she would know who that escort was.

Ambushes weren't really Mary's specialty. If she'd had one before then, it was noting the errors of others. Now, however, she intended to learn from her own experience.

She turned a corner and dodged a few steps down an especially narrow alley, much like the one in which she'd been waylaid earlier that day. Then she stopped and waited.

Within seconds, she heard the pitter-pat of clawed paws on pavement and the soft hum of well-oiled wheels. Both sounds grew louder, louder—and then broke off abruptly just as they seemed to be reaching a crescendo.

Years before, at Shaolin Temple, Master Liu had taught her to track the passage of a cockroach across the floor with a blindfold over her eyes and straw stuffed in her ears. So while the dogs were obviously well trained—there was no whining or whimpering, no fidgeting, no scratching at fleas—she could still hear their shallow pants as clearly as the ringing chimes of a London church bell.

"You can pretend you're not there, and I can pretend I'm not here, but there's really no point in it, is there?" Mary said. "Here we are, so we might as well acknowledge each other. At any rate, I merely wish to thank you."

A dark snout slowly poked around the corner and took a tentative sniff before the rest of its face followed. It was by no means a pretty dog: The wiry hair was patchy, half of one ear had been sheared off clean, and a pink scar ran across its forehead. It inspected Mary with such wary intelligence, however, she almost expected it to speak.