the
hospital," Crispin orders. "My Cadillac is there."
"Sure thing,"
Luke nods.
"What happened with
the security guards?" I ask. We go over a speed-bump leaving the
Science block, and I hear a thud and a knocking sound coming from the
trunk. "Is your car all right? It's making a bit of a funny
noise back here…"
"I just pretended to
need a little roadside assistance," Luke chuckles. "They
were very co-operative. I didn't even need to use the force."
* * * * *
The zombies had moved on
from the hospital car-park, so we were able to retrieve the Caddy
easily, and drive back to Crispin Dry's mansion, in silence. My Pizza
Heaven scooter is still where I left it, on the palatial
driveway.
He turns to me, and
sighs. It has been a long night.
"Can I offer you a
nightcap, Sarah Bellummm ?" Crispin says quietly.
"Thought you'd never
ask!" I leap promptly out of the passenger door. I'm parched.
"You can use the
bathroom and shower, if you wish," he says, as we enter the huge
abode. I look down at my housemate's blood all over my work uniform.
Good point. Some of this might be infectious. "I will make the
drinks."
There is a large
gold-and-marble en-suite bathroom in an apartment on the first
floor. I scrub my skin all over with a loofah until I am bright red,
then turn the water to cold and wait until I am pale blue.
Hopefully nothing serious
could survive that. I wonder if I should get myself checked for
radiation at the Physics department as well tomorrow, just in case.
You never know what else Twat-Face might be carrying, a little voice
says in my head.
I emerge from the shower
in a white towel. Strange. My uniform isn't where I left it. I head
out of the bathroom, into the bedroom of the luxurious suite of
rooms.
"I put your uniform
in the incinerator," Crispin greets me apologetically. Thank
goodness, he is standing there with a tray of drinks. I grab the
nearest glass and knock the contents back in one, before reaching for
the second. "Only your underwear was free of bloodstains. I can
lend you some clean ones belonging to my household staff, along with
some other clothes…"
"No thanks," I
say, plonking the second empty hi-ball glass back on the tray. "I
don't think I want to wear any of your other tarts' trophy knickers."
I turn away, summoning
all of my pride, and hear him gasp as I drop the towel on the floor
dismissively, in a blatant impersonation of Angelina Jolie in Lara
Croft: Tomb Raider . Even though she didn't win an Oscar for that
one, it's still one of her most-Googled scenes. Hah! He's not immune
to my charms either, then…
I give him a triumphant
glance over my shoulder, before striding over to the bed, and
reaching for my own underwear.
The effect is completely
ruined, when his pet cockerel runs flapping across the duvet. Meaning
I have to spend the next hour and forty-five minutes chasing it
around the suite, while it panics, the gusset of my knickers wrapped
around its leg.
CHAPTER
NINE :
DANGEROUS
LACERATIONS
Finally dressed once more
– having retrieved my underwear from the escaped pet cockerel,
and been loaned a set of Paisley pyjamas by the ever-gentlemanly
zombie Crispin Dry – I assert my decision to head home.
His mansion feels so
large, so empty – so imposing… I feel the need for my
home comforts – like cold pizza, and even colder, slippery,
undergraduate sleeping bag.
"But you have had
too much to drink to ride your scooter, Sarah Bellummm ,"
Crispin moans.
"I'll push it if I
have to," I reply, rolling up the over-long pyjama sleeves. "No
offence, but I've seen quite enough undead action for one night."
… Not
to mention Ace Bumgang action, the thought creeps up on me.
I shiver involuntarily
under the thin silk.
I wonder if he's still at
the University Masquerade Summer Ball?
If I push the scooter
halfway, until I'm near-sober, and ride the other half, could I make
it back there in time to catch the end, and see if he leaves with
anyone…?
Although of course,
hospital," Crispin orders. "My Cadillac is there."
"Sure thing,"
Luke nods.
"What happened with
the security guards?" I ask. We go over a speed-bump leaving the
Science block, and I hear a thud and a knocking sound coming from the
trunk. "Is your car all right? It's making a bit of a funny
noise back here…"
"I just pretended to
need a little roadside assistance," Luke chuckles. "They
were very co-operative. I didn't even need to use the force."
* * * * *
The zombies had moved on
from the hospital car-park, so we were able to retrieve the Caddy
easily, and drive back to Crispin Dry's mansion, in silence. My Pizza
Heaven scooter is still where I left it, on the palatial
driveway.
He turns to me, and
sighs. It has been a long night.
"Can I offer you a
nightcap, Sarah Bellummm ?" Crispin says quietly.
"Thought you'd never
ask!" I leap promptly out of the passenger door. I'm parched.
"You can use the
bathroom and shower, if you wish," he says, as we enter the huge
abode. I look down at my housemate's blood all over my work uniform.
Good point. Some of this might be infectious. "I will make the
drinks."
There is a large
gold-and-marble en-suite bathroom in an apartment on the first
floor. I scrub my skin all over with a loofah until I am bright red,
then turn the water to cold and wait until I am pale blue.
Hopefully nothing serious
could survive that. I wonder if I should get myself checked for
radiation at the Physics department as well tomorrow, just in case.
You never know what else Twat-Face might be carrying, a little voice
says in my head.
I emerge from the shower
in a white towel. Strange. My uniform isn't where I left it. I head
out of the bathroom, into the bedroom of the luxurious suite of
rooms.
"I put your uniform
in the incinerator," Crispin greets me apologetically. Thank
goodness, he is standing there with a tray of drinks. I grab the
nearest glass and knock the contents back in one, before reaching for
the second. "Only your underwear was free of bloodstains. I can
lend you some clean ones belonging to my household staff, along with
some other clothes…"
"No thanks," I
say, plonking the second empty hi-ball glass back on the tray. "I
don't think I want to wear any of your other tarts' trophy knickers."
I turn away, summoning
all of my pride, and hear him gasp as I drop the towel on the floor
dismissively, in a blatant impersonation of Angelina Jolie in Lara
Croft: Tomb Raider . Even though she didn't win an Oscar for that
one, it's still one of her most-Googled scenes. Hah! He's not immune
to my charms either, then…
I give him a triumphant
glance over my shoulder, before striding over to the bed, and
reaching for my own underwear.
The effect is completely
ruined, when his pet cockerel runs flapping across the duvet. Meaning
I have to spend the next hour and forty-five minutes chasing it
around the suite, while it panics, the gusset of my knickers wrapped
around its leg.
CHAPTER
NINE :
DANGEROUS
LACERATIONS
Finally dressed once more
– having retrieved my underwear from the escaped pet cockerel,
and been loaned a set of Paisley pyjamas by the ever-gentlemanly
zombie Crispin Dry – I assert my decision to head home.
His mansion feels so
large, so empty – so imposing… I feel the need for my
home comforts – like cold pizza, and even colder, slippery,
undergraduate sleeping bag.
"But you have had
too much to drink to ride your scooter, Sarah Bellummm ,"
Crispin moans.
"I'll push it if I
have to," I reply, rolling up the over-long pyjama sleeves. "No
offence, but I've seen quite enough undead action for one night."
… Not
to mention Ace Bumgang action, the thought creeps up on me.
I shiver involuntarily
under the thin silk.
I wonder if he's still at
the University Masquerade Summer Ball?
If I push the scooter
halfway, until I'm near-sober, and ride the other half, could I make
it back there in time to catch the end, and see if he leaves with
anyone…?
Although of course,
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