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as she retrieves the mug. ‘If anyone had told me this morning that a zombie would be serving me coffee before the day was out . . .’
    We all laugh, but quietly, so as not to draw attention. Then we head for Leicester Square, talking softly as we progress. We tell Emma about ourselves,how we differ from reviveds, the way we try to help living survivors, Dr Oystein and the set-up at County Hall. By the time we get to the small park at the heart of the West End and make ourselves comfy on a few of the benches, Emma is shaking her head with wonder.
    ‘I never would have dreamt this was possible. I thought you were all killers.’
    ‘Most of us are,’ Ashtat says. ‘Do notmake the mistake of thinking you should give zombies a chance from now on. If you ever see one coming towards you, run. There are very few of our type around.’
    ‘What about you guys?’ Shane asks. ‘How did you survive this long?’
    ‘By being very careful,’ Emma sighs. ‘And with a lot of luck.’
    ‘Are there more of you?’ Carl asks. ‘Do you want us to fetch the others and take them backto County Hall? Assuming you want to go there,’ he adds quickly. ‘No pressure. We’ll understand if you’d rather stick to what you know.’
    ‘Are you kidding?’ Emma says bitterly. ‘I hate what we’ve had to endure, the places we’ve had to stay, the loneliness. Of course we’re coming with you. If I’d only known about you before . . .’
    She starts to cry. The rest of us say nothing and lookaway awkwardly, waiting for the tears to pass. Declan makes a small whining sound and, when I glance at him, I see him stroking his mother’s hair and kissing her cheek. I recall the monstrous babies from my dreams, and the all-too-real baby at Timothy’s, and suppress a shudder.
    ‘Sorry,’ Emma moans when the tears finally pass. ‘I’ve been holding those in for so long. I didn’t want to crybefore this. I was afraid I might not be able to stop once I’d started, that I might start howling with grief and rage.’
    ‘Howling’s not good in this city,’ Shane notes. ‘It draws a crowd.’
    ‘Yes.’ Emma wipes tears away and grins at us, embarrassed. ‘Sorry,’ she says again.
    ‘No need to apologise,’ Ashtat smiles. ‘We would love to cry if we could.’
    Emma blinks. ‘You mean you can’t?’
    ‘Unfortunately not. We are, in most respects, dead. There are many things the undead can no longer do—cry, sweat, breathe.’
    Emma shakes her head, amazed, and drains the last of her coffee. ‘That was so good,’ she says.
    ‘I can make you some more if you’d like,’ Carl offers.
    ‘Not right now,’ she says. ‘Maybe in a while. I don’t like to drink too much. I’m always afraid the smell mighttip off the zombies. Does it?’
    ‘I’m not sure,’ Carl says. ‘Most reviveds aren’t good at association. That’s why they don’t link the smell of perfume or aftershave to the living. But I’ve seen some react to the scent of food before. I think they remember that only a living human would bother with food, since the walking dead don’t eat. Well, except for brains obviously.’
    ‘But you’resafe with us,’ Shane brags. ‘You can have a barbecue if you like, here in the Square. We’ll run off any nosy buggers who come sniffing round.’
    Emma giggles. ‘A barbecue! This is like a dream. I wish . . .’ She pauses and her expression darkens. ‘I wish Shaun could have been here. He practically lived for barbecues. He was Australian. He grew up cooking outdoors.’
    ‘Was Shaun your husband?’Ashtat asks delicately.
    ‘No,’ Emma grunts. ‘ He left the picture long before the zombies struck, and good riddance to him. I hope he was one of the first to die and that it was painful and slow.’ She glowers, then chuckles. ‘I don’t mean that really. But I certainly wouldn’t shed any tears if I found out he was dead.
    ‘Shaun was a friend of mine. We were together the day the zombies tookover. He was a