Free Geeks vs. Zombies by Charlie Higson Page B

face above his black turtleneck sweater.
    â€œYou want to see my sickos?” he asked. “What for?”
    â€œNo reason,” said Jibber-Jabber.
    â€œWhat for?”
    Paul didn’t look very well. His skin was shiny with sweat and his eyes were red-rimmed and zigzagged with broken blood vessels. He looked like he might have a fever. Whatever was up with him, he was in a foul mood.
    â€œActually,” said Wiki, “we actually came to ask you about World Book Day, actually….”
    â€œDid you actually ?” said Paul.
    â€œYes, we actually did.”
    â€œWhat’s World Book Day?”
    â€œA group of us are going to stay up all night reading books.”
    Paul gave a brief harsh bark of laughter. If the two boys had thought it was bad being laughed at by James, this was much worse.
    â€œWe’re seeing if anyone else wants to join us,” Jibber-Jabber added, not looking at Paul.
    â€œ Books ?” Paul said. “What do I want with books ?”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Jibber-Jabber. “Books are fun.”
    â€œYeah?” Paul stared him down. “My sister was killed the other day.”
    â€œYes,” said Wiki lamely. “We know.”
    â€œAnd nobody around here seems to care. You’re all too busy having fun. Celebrating World Book Day.”
    â€œNo, it’s not like that, it’s—”
    â€œYou all just carry on as if nothing has happened,” said Paul bitterly. “Having a party, are you? Yeah? Staying up all night reading books as if Harry bloody Potter was still around. Well, something has happened. A big fat dirty sicko killed my sister and you want me to ponce about reading books.”
    â€œBooks can be helpful,” said Wiki. “You can, you know, see how other people cope with things. Learn stuff.”
    Paul suddenly grabbed Wiki and Jibber-Jabber and shoved them through the drapes. There was a cage on the other side, dimly lit by a windup camping lamp that was hanging from a hook.
    Its light fell on three grown-ups dressed in rags who were sitting in their own filth chained to the walls of the truck. The smell was appalling. Wiki covered his mouth and tried not to gag. Jibber-Jabber had gone very pale. These days, cooped up in the safe confines of the museum, they hardly ever saw any sickos anymore. And certainly it was a long while since they’d been this close to one.
    The grown-ups, two fathers and a mother, were gray-faced and lumpy with boils and blisters. They were so thin, their flesh so shrunken, they looked like corpses, their skin pulled tight over protruding bones. They sat very still, staring, unblinking, at the newcomers.
    One of the fathers had a leather muzzle strapped over his face; thick yellow dribble was spilling out the bottom of it. James noticed Wiki looking at him.
    â€œThat’s Simon Foul,” he said. “Simon likes to bite. We don’t let him anymore. That one there’s called Louis Corpse, and the mother’s called Cheryl. After Cheryl Cole. They’re our very own X Factor judging panel. The three sickos.”
    Cheryl opened her mouth wide and let out a long bubbling gurgle. The few teeth she had left were brown and rotten, most of her hair had fallen out, and her head was studded with growths, as if someone had shoved marbles beneath her skin. As Jibber-Jabber watched, she put a hand up to scratch one lump and tore the top off it, releasing a little flow of bloody pus. She put her hand down to the floor and it squelched into a freshly deposited turd.
    Wiki couldn’t hold it back any longer. He leaned over and threw up into a bucket that had conveniently been left at the side of the cage.
    â€œOh, thanks,” said James. “As if it didn’t stink enough in here already.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” said Wiki, wiping his mouth.
    Paul grabbed him and pushed him up against the bars.
    â€œThis is real,” he hissed.