Free Thirteen Roses Book Five: Home: A Paranormal Zombie Saga by Michael Cairns

bulb. It was like having splinters shoved into his open flesh and he screamed and collapsed to the floor. He lay, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the ceiling as it spun round and round.  
    Did God want him to suffer? Was this part of his trial, part of what would make him strong enough to save the world? It had to be. There was no other reason for him to be here, flat on his back and weeping. He snarled and drew in a deep breath. He was stronger than this. If it was a test, he wasn’t going to fail.  
    He sat, heaving himself up with his elbows, and inspected his hand. The bulb had done nothing and his arm was covered in blood. He lowered it and watched it drip onto the floor. There would be an oven in the kitchen. That would work. He needed to go quickly, though, his vision was swimming and the world threatening to vanish at any moment.  
    He staggered towards the door and hooked his right wrist around the handle. Pain flared down his arm and he whimpered. He clenched his jaw until his gums ached, shoved his weight down, and hauled the door open.  
    There was a man at the other end of the corridor. Jackson was the only man here. It was Dave. His mouth fell open and, before he could stop himself, he clenched his fists. A surge of blood splashed onto the floor. The pale carpet turned red. He took a step closer to Dave and put his hand out to steady himself.  
    His bandages brushed the wall and his knees buckled. His teeth cracked and he stretched his mouth as wide as it would go. The world started to fade and he blinked until it came back into focus. Dave was backing away, taking some of the ladies with him. He was stealing the ladies.  
    He staggered towards him, hands outstretched. He could feel the eyes of the ladies on him, doubt filling them at the blood that streamed from his hand.  
    ‘Dave, you can’t…’ He sounded like he was drunk.  
    He was sitting on the floor. He didn’t remember sitting down. He tried to stand but nothing happened. His legs refused to work and when he put his hands down to push himself up, the world went away.  

    His eyes flashed open and the first thing he saw was Harriet’s face. The love wasn’t shining from her. Not at all. He was still sitting on the carpet and couldn’t feel his arms below the elbows. He looked at them. The blood had stopped. He needed to get… what?
    ‘Can you hear me?’
    He nodded, opening his mouth. Nothing came out.  
    ‘We’re worried about you. You’ve lost a lot of blood. We need to get you into bed and you need to stay there. Will you stay there for me?’
    Sounded like she was talking to a child. He sneered at her. ‘Gotta stop Dave.’
    ‘He’s gone. But he’ll be back, with the other ladies.’
    Jackson blinked and shook his head. It was bullshit, not a chance. He tried to speak again but the sound wouldn’t come out. Then hands clutched him all over and lifted him back into the bedroom.  
    The sheets were bright red and one of the ladies dragged them off and dumped them in the corner. He watched it all through thick, lazy eyes. Everything was lazy, like the air around him had been turned into syrup. He licked his lips and fancied he tasted it, sweet and coppery.  
    He was tucked into the newly-made bed and the world swam until his eyes closed and he drowned. He sank down and felt something coming up to meet him. A figure appeared from the depths of his mind, fading into being before his tired eyes.  
    ‘Jackson. You’ve taken a lot on your shoulders. God would like you to take it easy for a while.’
    Jackson gasped. It was a voice from God, a real, genuine message. This was the message he’d been waiting for, longing for.  
    But it was telling him to take it easy and that wasn’t right. There was no time to take it easy. Dave had just taken two of the ladies and he’d be back for more if he thought he could get away with it.  
    The rest of them were out there, protected by a bunch of wankers without the first idea how to