Zombiegrad. A horror novel

He sighed, and his hand touched the shock of her red fluffy hair. But he kept silent.

She looked at the watch on his wrist. “It’s ten already. We’re late. Everyone must be looking for us.”

His lips parted. “Let them.” He opened his eyes.

She smiled. She liked the way he spoke Russian with his funny Serbian accent.

Silence followed his words again.

“Was the war in Yugoslavia worse than this?” she said.

He looked at her but kept silent. It frightened her. A couple minutes ago he was so warm when he was inside her. Now he was as cold as an iceberg.

“Will you kiss me?”

His eyes turned into slits. He brushed her hand away and sat on the bed.

“Time to go,” he said, looking at his watch. “The meeting’s in the conference hall in fifteen minutes. And I need to check the things in the kitchen once again.”

“Goran … Won’t you kiss me?”

He went up to the chair where his clothes were hanging, and started to get dressed. He turned his back to her.

“Why are you so silent all of a sudden? You’re acting like I’m not here.” There was sadness in her voice.

“Can’t see anything wrong in silence,” he said, without looking at her. “Do we have to fill the air with chatter all the time?”

“It’s not just chatter.” She pouted, sitting up. “What kind of a man are you? Can’t you even pretend you have some feelings?”

He put his shirt down and turned to her. “I don’t love you, all right? Straight and simple. These are my feelings. Is that what you want to know?”

She looked at him with her big gray eyes. The right words died on her lips.

“And I don’t want to pretend,” he said. “It was just a fuck. Like a handshake. Now I need to go.”

His sperm was feeling cold against her skin now. She stood up, wiped her stomach and started putting her clothes on.

“Oh, you’re such a bastard,” she hissed through her teeth.

“Hey, woman,” Goran said and pointed his index finger at her. “You watch that mouth of yours! What the heck do you want from me, huh? I told you, I like you, but enough only to sleep with you. We’ve made an agreement, remember? That was pretty sincere. To my thinking.”

“I just feel like a whore.”

Goran looked up at the ceiling. “Nobody says you’re a whore.”

The cufflink he was holding slipped through his fingers and fell to the floor. He looked at her.

“Look, Marina, I am really sorry. I thought we had agreed.”

“You’re a freak. You know that?” Disappointment clouded her eyes. “A fucking freak.”

He sighed and looked at the ceiling again. “Oh, Lord! Chicks are just impossible sometimes.”

Marina adjusted her chambermaid’s uniform in front of the mirror and burst out crying. She was about to leave the room, when he came up to her and said, “Please wait.”

She stopped and turned to him. “What now?”

He took her by the hand. “You’ve taken the pill, haven’t you?”

Tears instantly smeared the mascara on her face. Without saying anything, she rushed to the door and slammed it behind her. The door banged shut like a rifle shot.

Goran stood in the sudden quietness of the room. He got on his knees and tried to find the cufflink but failed.

“Jebo te patak!” He took off his other cufflink and threw it against the wall.

Then he went into the bathroom.

“Ah, whatever,” he said and spat into the toilet bowl.

***

Andy was sitting at a desk on the stage of the conference hall. Diana Grinina, his deputy manager, was sitting near a flip chart opposite him. She was a cute young woman in her early thirties. It was unusual for Andy to see her wearing casual clothes today instead of a strict suit.

“You slept well?” Andy asked her, looking at people seeping into the spacious room one by one.

Diana nodded to a short Chinese man, who came into the room, escorted by a tall Chinese teenage girl, who had sunglasses on. They sat near Goran Pavic, who was having a lively conversation with a blonde woman.

“I was worried about my mother all night,” Diana said. “She lives in Yekaterinburg. I hope she’s well. But then I slept like a baby. All this stress and fear … My God.”

“Let’s hope this disaster is being stopped,” Andy said, putting his hand on her hand. “I saw tanks in the street. The military are trying to contain it.”

She nodded silently.

He looked at her scars. “How’s your cheek?”

She touched her cheek and said, “It’s all right. The pain is gone.”

“I hope it’ll heal before your wedding,” Andy said. “Is that the Russian expression?”

She smiled. “The doctor said there won’t be any scars left once the stitches are removed. Though, I have to look like Chucky the Killer Doll for a couple of weeks.”

Andy sighed. “It’s a miracle we’ve survived this nightmare.”

He flashbacked to the moment, when mutilated corpses started slamming against the main door, foaming at their mouths, and felt a snake of terror uncurling in his stomach.

Two big guys wearing camouflage uniforms sat in the front row. One of them had a snub-nosed Kalashnikov slung over his shoulder. Cash messengers. They were in the lounge removing the money from the ATM when the chaos broke loose, and they sealed the main entrance in time before the crazies could rush inside the hotel.

Andy looked at his Piaget watch. 10:10 a.m. He glanced around the room, which contained two hundred seats. It was the best conference hall in Chelyabinsk, and it was packed with all modern high-tech equipment. A large LED screen was installed above the stage. It could even boast a simultaneous interpretation booth. The only one in the city.