The Restless Dead: A Zombie Novel by Jenny Thomson

“Appropriate,” he says. “It sounds better than stealing.”
    I regret not sticking with Kenny and Mustafa, but how were we to know Dan’s car would be gone?
    As we plod down an un-shovelled pavement, I have to ask Scott, “Can you hotwire a car?” My words come out in puffs of vapour.
    Scott makes a face. “Nah, too difficult with modern engines, computers and all, and the steering wheel locks they got nowadays. We need to find a car with the keys stashed somewhere on the outside, like a spare hidden in a wheel well.”
    I was dubious about anyone being dumb enough to leave their keys for anyone to find, when further down the street, we struck it lucky. Scott found the keys to a BMW tucked under the bumper. The car hadn’t been there long because there was only a light dusting of snow on it whilst so many other cars we passed were snowed in. Frost on the windows prevented us from seeing inside.
    Scott takes his axe out of the loop on his backpack. “Best be careful.”
    He’s about to unlock the door when I spot a snowman that some kids have built by the side of the road. “Wait,” I tell him and use my bat as a pointer. “I want to go see it.” I run towards the snowman. When will I ever see anything as innocent as a kid’s snowman again?
    “Emma, no, come on.”
    There are two pieces of coal for his eyes and a stick for his mouth, and a bright blue scarf has been draped around his neck to keep out the cold. The sight brings a nostalgic smile to my face. As I touch its cold cheek, I remember how excited I was as a wee girl whenever it snowed. Fiona and I always built a snowman using a carrot for his nose and two lumps of coal for his eyes. Then we’d roll about and make snow angels.
    Scott saunters up, tries to act all unaffected and nonchalant, but I know he’s happy to see the snowman too, because his eyes get all glassy, and he faces away from me so I can’t see his face.
    We’ll have kids of our own one day, build our own snowmen, but now, with this zombie blight on humanity, how can we bring any child into this crazy world?
    Life was brutal enough before this. For the first time since we left our home I think about the morning after pill and how I’ve got no choice but to take it. How can I have a baby in this hell we’re living in?
    Without warning, a hand shoots out from the snowman’s round belly and tries to grab me. I yelp. Scott shoves me out the way, and I fall to the snow-covered ground. He repeatedly swings the axe, chopping into more and more of the emerging dead bastard. Another hand, a head, a torso, a leg, it’s crawling out of the snowman like the thing is being born.
    I can’t take my eyes off the head. There’s a waxy quality to the skin that reminds me of a Madame Tussauds waxwork. This zombie was once a woman. Her gnarly lips are locked in a hideous snarl that exposes rotted upper teeth out the side of her mouth. The axe has already lobbed off one arm, an ear, and split her gut open like a rotten melon.
    My hand grips my bat as I scramble to my feet to help Scott dispatch the fiend.
    “Stay back,” he shouts and swings the blade in an arc that ends up embedded between her dead eyes.
    The zombie bitch collapses at the foot of the snowman as if he’d just given birth to a bloody pulp.
    That’s when I say something I know I shouldn’t have said. “What chance do we have of surviving when we can’t even walk past a snowman without it trying to eat us?”
    Scott just turns towards the car.
    I wish I could take back the question because it sounded so dumb coming out of my mouth.
    He remains silent as he unlocks the driver’s door. I wait at the passenger side for him to pop the lock so I can open the door.
    “What the fuck?” Scott yells and jumps back.
    My heart jumps too. “What is it?”
    “Look.” He whispers as though he’s worried somebody will overhear. “There’s someone in there.”
    I stoop to rub frost from the window and look in. There’s a man slumped