Zom-B Underground by Darren Shan Page B

looking pointedly at Rage.
    “I’ve said sorry for that already,” Rage groans. “I lost my head. It won’t happen again. Promise.”
    “To start with, stand still,” Josh goes on. “Let them mill around you. If they attack, defend yourself, but don’t stir them up until we tell you. And when you do, follow orders as closely as you can, as long as you can, until things get chaotic. When we think thesituation’s getting out of hand, we’ll drop the nets and bring proceedings to a close. Any questions?”
    “What’s the point of it all?” I ask.
    “We’re testing the reviveds,” Josh says. “Their reactions, what they respond to, what they ignore, how much they remember on an instinctive level from their old lives. We’ll also be checking if they show signs of revitalizing, but that’s not the main goal of the experiment, since it happens so rarely.”
    “How far can we go?” I press. “Do we draw the line at dismembering them, killing them, what?”
    “You can’t kill them,” Josh laughs. “They’re already dead.”
    “You know what I mean. If we destroy their brains, we’ll finish them off. That’s killing in my book.”
    “Well it shouldn’t be,” Josh snaps, losing his smile. “Don’t think of these as people. Not even animals. They’re walking corpses, monsters who would rip apart everything we know and cherish. They slaughtered friends of yours, maybe family members too, and one of them even killed
you
. There should be no room in your heart for sympathy, not where these beasts are concerned.”
    “Tear them to pieces,” Danny snarls. “They’d do even worse to you if they had the chance.”
    “Well said.” Josh is beaming again. “Now, if you’re all ready and willing, let’s do some business.”
    Everyone cheers and roars like gladiators. Reilly opens adoor–not the one we entered by–and we pass along a short corridor, just us seven zom heads, leaving the soldiers behind.
    We enter a bare room like the one I found myself in the first time I recovered my senses. White walls, lots of windows, soldiers and scientists crowded behind them.
    Rage clomps to the middle of the room and the rest of us follow. We form a tight circle. I’m nervous and I can tell that the others are too. They’ve been looking forward to this–it breaks the monotony–but in the quiet moments before it kicks off, they tense and wonder what will happen if it goes wrong.
    Each of us tests our weapon, flexes our muscles, prepares for battle. I start to wish I’d chosen something more substantial than a spear. I don’t feel as protected as the others. I wish I could swap it for a chainsaw.
    Then three doors click open at the same time, in three different walls. There’s a short pause, flickering shadows, the smell of blood in the air. Then about thirty zombies slip into the room, spread out, shake their heads and fix their snarling, ravenous sights on us.

ELEVEN
    I instinctively raise my spear. Josh’s voice comes crackling through the speaker in my helmet. “Easy, Becky. Remember what I told you. Just stand still for the time being and chill.”
    “
Chill
my arse,” I mutter sourly, but I lower the spear and watch nervously as the zombies draw closer.
    The first to come within striking distance is a woman. She’s dressed in a filthy, tattered green blouse and a matching skirt. There are bite marks up and down her arms, as if her boyfriend got out of control when they were making out. Her eyes have a gray, cloudy film over them, like a blind person’s, but by the way she focuses on me, I’m sure that she can see well enough.
    The woman pauses in front of me and sniffs the air. Her mouth is open and her long, sharp teeth are bared. She makes a growling sound and I think she’s getting ready to attack. My fingers tighten on the spear. But then she reels away to sniff the others.
    I’m not sweating inside my helmet–I can’t–but I feel hotter than normal. I keep a close eye on the zombies