Free I Dream of Zombies by Vickie Johnstone Page B

“It’ll be nice.”
    “Okay. I haven’t really figured out what to do. My main thought was to come here and see Mum, but I don’t have a clue what to do after that. Head back, I guess. I said to Tommy about taking off on Friday, but I’m not sure where we should go. I was thinking of coming here, but we’ve come early as he wasn’t ready. We could come back, but Tommy may want to see his family first and they’re up north. So then we’d have to split up. Also, I haven’t rung in to see if there was any work for me. But then they haven’t called either...”
    “You mean t he agency?”
    Marla nodded. “Yep.”
    “My work isn’t expecting me. I took the week off and...”
    “Here you go,” said Hilda, re-entering the room carrying three small plates in one hand and an assortment of cakes on a plate in the other. “Fancy watching a movie?”
    “Sounds great,” Ellen answered with a smile. “But I think I’m going to get fat just from looking at those.”

Wednesday, 22
     
    “One egg or two?” asked Hilda as Marla sauntered into the lounge looking dishevelled.
    “Just one and some cereal for me,” she answered, running her hands through her matted hair. “But I’ll make it.”
    “Sure?”
    “Yeah, no problem, Mum. Do you want anything?”
    “No, your sister and I ate a couple of hours ago,” Hilda answered, cocking an eyebrow at Ellen, who grinned.
    “What time is it?” asked Marla, looking surprised.
    “Nearly eleven.”
    “Wow, I guess I needed some sleep. Anyway, I’ll just go eat something.” Yawning, Marla sauntered into the kitchen, pausing to stretch on the way. Outside the window a handful of starlings were flocking around the bird feeder, which was huge and many tiered, resembling a mini Mecca for the feathered variety. Standing on tiptoe, she gazed towards the pond. It still contained goldfish, so Sandy the cat hadn’t had his wicked way.
    “Talk of the devil,” Marla exclaimed as something furry tickled the bottom of her leg. “How are you little boy?” she asked, bending slightly to ruffle his fur. A loud purr filled the air, sounding like the ripple of an engine. “Ah, I’m not so happy this morning. I fancy whatever you had for breakfast,” she said, noticing the cat leap on to the breakfast bar. “Now you know you’re not allowed up there, cheeky.” She waved her hand and Sandy got the idea. He landed with a small thud on the lino. “Right, egg,” she told herself, grabbing a small saucepan and filling it with water. Popping the egg inside, she placed it on the hob to boil. “Toast...”
    “Marla!”
    Almost dropping the bread she had just grabbed out of the toaster, she yelled back, “What do you want? Changed your mind?”
    “No! Just come and see this!” Ellen replied.
    “Damn it,” grumbled Marla. Hastily buttering a slice of toast, she bit the corner and headed into the lounge, trailed by Mr Furry Pants.
    Hilda looked her way and muttered, “Plate!”
    Marla turned tail and walked back into the kitchen. Noticing that she was being shadowed, she found a plate, buttered the other piece of toast, placed both items on the plate, and returned while trying not to trip over His Fluffy Highness, who was dead set on achieving just that she surmised by his behaviour.
    Ellen glanced up. “Look! You missed the beginning, but they’ve introduced a curfew in London. Breaking news from the government. There has been a spate of murders.”
    “There must have been a lot if they’ve done that,” said Marla, sitting down on the arm of the sofa. A glance from her mother made her shift her bottom on to the seat. “It doesn’t make sense. London has always had murders.”
    “Shush and listen,” informed Hilda. “It isn’t a serial killer or anything like that. The killings are unrelated and gruesome, they were saying, and they’re in different places, dotted all over London. Unusual was another word they used.”
    “Shush, Mum,” Ellen mumbled.
    The