Free Zom-B Angels by Darren Shan Page A

low down the pecking order.
    ‘Do not look so upset,’ Master Zhang says as I step away from the weights, feeling defeated. ‘I am by no means the strongest person here, but that has never worked against me.
I taught myself how to deal with stronger opponents many years ago and my foes have yet to get the better of me.’
    ‘Have a lot of foes, do you?’ I laugh.
    ‘Yes,’ he says simply, not bothering to elaborate.
    Then it’s back to the conference room, where Master Zhang has me face him. Carl watches from a spot near the door, grinning eagerly.
    ‘This is the part you have probably been looking forward to,’ Master Zhang says. ‘I am going to test your sharpness and wit. I want you to try to hit me, first with your fists,
then with your feet. You can use any move you wish, a punch, chop, slap, whatever.’
    ‘Shouldn’t we be in karate or boxing gear for this sort of thing?’ I ask.
    ‘No. We do not wear special clothes when we fight in the world outside, so why should we wear them here? I want to see how you will perform on the streets, where it matters.’
    With a shrug, I eye up Master Zhang, then jab a fist at his nose. He shimmies and my fist whistles through thin air. I expected as much, and also guessed the way he would move, so even while
he’s ducking, I’m bringing up my other fist to hit him from the opposite side.
    Master Zhang grabs my arm and stops my fist short of its target.

    ‘Good,’ he says, releasing me. ‘Again.’
    I spend the next ten minutes trying to strike him with my fists, then ten trying to hit him with my feet. I fare better with my feet than fists, connecting with his shoulders and midriff a
number of times, and once – sweetly – with the side of his face. I don’t cause any damage but I can tell he’s impressed.
    ‘Rest a while,’ he says, taking a step back.
    ‘I didn’t think zombies needed rest.’
    ‘Even the living dead need rest,’ he says. ‘We are more enduring than we were in life, but our bodies do have limits. If we demand too much of ourselves, it affects our
performance. We can struggle on indefinitely, sluggishly, but our battles need to be fought on our terms. It is not enough to be dogged. We must be incisive.’
    ‘Who do we fight?’ I ask. ‘Mr Dowling and his mutants? Reviveds? The army?’
    ‘Dr Oystein will answer your questions,’ Master Zhang says. ‘I am here merely to determine how useful you might be to us and to help you make the most of your
talents.’
    Master Zhang spends the next ten minutes throwing punches and kicks at me. I manage to duck or block many of them, but plenty penetrate and by the end of the session I’m stinging all over.
But it’s a good kind of pain and I don’t mind.
    After opening up a small cut beneath my right eye, Master Zhang says, ‘That will be enough. Return tomorrow. I want to see how your cuts moss over.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
    ‘We cannot heal as we could when we were alive,’ he explains. ‘Moss grows in places where we are cut, but it sprouts more thickly in some than in others. If the moss grows
thinly over your cuts, you will continue to lose blood when you fight, which will affect your performance, making you of little use to us.’
    ‘Nothing wrong with my moss,’ I say confidently. ‘Look, it’s already stitching the wound closed, I can feel it.’ I tilt my head backwards, so that he can see.
    Master Zhang smiles thinly. ‘I believe that it is. But as I said, come back to see me tomorrow, and we will test it then.’
    ‘Assuming the moss grows thickly,’ I call after him as he turns to leave, ‘how did I do on the rest of the tests? Am I good enough to be a proper Angel with Carl and the
others?’
    Master Zhang pauses and casts a slow look over me with his bloodshot left eye. I feel like I’m being X-rayed.
    ‘Physically, yes, my feeling is that you are, although there are a few more tests that you must complete before we can say for certain.