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  I try to imagine what it must have been like for the passengers, stuck down here, not sure what was happening above, waiting, hot, suffocating. Maybe some people chose to leave and walk along the tracks to the nearest station, but most stayed, confident that someone would come to sort things out, as they always did. Then the undead forced their way in. The killing commenced. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run.

  “It was the same up top,” I whisper to the skeletons. “Most of you would have died even if you’d got out. At least this way you have a ready-made tomb. The people up above simply lie rotting on the streets.”

  There are more rats in the carriages, though they don’t linger when they catch sight of the babies. They take off as if the place is on fire. A few of the babies dart after them and bite the heads off any that they catch, but most hold their position beneath me.

  The rats set me thinking. I bet they’re not the only animals at large. The tunnels have long been home to rodents, but I’m sure they’ve been joined by others since zombies took over. Dogs, cats, foxes… The smarter animals would have headed for far-flung, deep-buried holes like this, where they could rest unseen from their brain-hungry predators.

  Many of the furry survivors who sought shelter here probably still emerge in the daytime to hunt for food. But there are surely others who will have made the darkness their full-time home. Maybe they’ll breed blind puppies, kittens and cubs, better equipped for hunting underground. This could be the start of a new evolutionary chapter, the era of the sightless.

  I pass the time thinking about that, picturing myself as a modern Darwin, charting the changing face of the animal kingdom. It keeps me amused as we follow the tunnel through Cannon Street Station, Monument, Tower Hill.

  I recall the undead Beefeater who wrestled me to the ground and demanded a ticket before letting me enter the Tower of London. Is he still at his post? Surely not, after all this time. Then again, he seemed like a determined sort. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d stuck to his guns. I try asking the babies to swing by that way, so I can check, but they press on without pause, ignoring my pleas to make a short detour.

  The line branches after Tower Hill. One set of tracks curves off to the north, but we follow those that lead east, towards what used to be my home turf. I wonder if that’s where the babies plan to take me, back to my old flat. Maybe that’s why Mr. Dowling said they were taking me home.

  We ease through Aldgate East Station. Lots of Pakistani zombies here. Dad would have hated it. I smile sadly. He was a wife-beating racist, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss him. He had his moments. There were sides to him that I loved and was proud of. Not enough to blind me to his faults though. I won’t stand up for who he was and what he did. But still, he was my dad. He risked his life to help me. I’ll happily call him a bigot and a bully, but if anyone else does, and I hear about it, they’d better watch out!

  We’re getting close to Whitechapel when the babies suddenly veer left. For a moment I think they’ve moved to avoid an oncoming train. But of course no trains run on these tracks now, and it’s unlikely they ever will again.

  There are scuffling noises. I can’t see, but I think the babies are moving a panel aside. It takes a minute. Then the sounds stop and we start forward. The babies pause again when we pass through the opening into a new tunnel, to allow some of the pack to seal the entrance behind us.

  “Intriguing,” I mutter. “A hidden tunnel. I think we’re getting close to our destination…”

  As it turns out, I spoke too soon. By the occasional overhead light–they must be for the mutants–I see that we’re in a network of low, narrow, roughly carved tunnels. I get the impression that these have been recently created, probably by the mutants or people who were working for them. It’s even more of a maze than the sewers were. The tunnels branch off regularly, twist back on themselves, split up into sub-tunnels. I try keeping track of our route, but I’m lost after a couple of minutes. I actually get dizzy trying to keep up, and in the end I turn on my side and tune out.

  Eventually, after maybe half an hour, we come to a green door. Eyeballs have been nailed or stuck to it, so that it seems as if the door is a multi-eyed creature casting its gaze over us. It blocks the tunnel completely, illuminated by an overhead lamp. One of the babies knocks on the door three times with a hammer that is lying nearby. It strikes one of the eyes on its second blow and the globe of liquid explodes in a sticky, messy geyser.

  There’s a short delay. The babies wait patiently. Then a voice crackles over an intercom unit that I can’t see. “Hit us with the password, sweet things.”

  “open sesame,” the babies dutifully chant.

  “And in whose name do you request entrance?” the guard asks.

  “the crimson clown’s,” the babies respond.

  “Cool as ice cream,” the guard cackles.

  Locks are turned. The door swings open. And a bowing mutant waves us in as we move forward, leaving the tunnels behind, to wend our way into the rancid bowels of Mr. Dowling’s demonic domain.

  ALSO BY

  DARREN SHAN

  THE THIN EXECUTIONER

  ZOM-B SERIES

  ZOM-B

  ZOM-B UNDERGROUND

  ZOM-B CITY

  ZOM-B ANGELS

  ZOM-B BABY

  ZOM-B GLADIATOR

  ZOM-B MISSION

  ZOM-B CLANS

  ZOM-B CIRCUS—A ZOM-B ENOVELLA

  THE SAGA OF LARTEN CREPSLEY

  BIRTH OF A KILLER

  OCEAN OF BLOOD

  PALACE OF THE DAMNED

  BROTHERS TO THE DEATH

  THE DEMONATA SERIES

  LORD LOSS

  DEMON THIEF

  SLAWTER

  BEC

  BLOOD BEAST

  DEMON APOCALYPSE

  DEATH’S SHADOW

  WOLF ISLAND

  DARK CALLING

  HELL’S HEROES

  THE CIRQUE DU FREAK SERIES

  A LIVING NIGHTMARE

  THE VAMPIRE’S ASSISTANT

  TUNNELS OF BLOOD

  VAMPIRE MOUNTAIN

  TRIALS OF DEATH

  THE VAMPIRE PRINCE

  HUNTERS OF THE DUSK

  ALLIES OF THE NIGHT

  KILLERS OF THE DAWN

  THE LAKE OF SOULS

  LORD OF THE SHADOWS

  SONS OF DESTINY

  Contents

  COVER

  TITLE PAGE

  WELCOME

  DEDICATION

  THEN…

  CHAPTER ONE: NOW…

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  A SNEAK PEEK OF ZOM-B BRIDE

  ALSO BY DARREN SHAN

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by HOME OF THE DAMNED LIMITED

  Illustrations © 2014 by Warren Pleece

  Excerpt of Zom-B Bride copyright © 2014 by HOME OF THE DAMNED LIMITED

  Illustration from excerpt of Zom-B Bride © 2014 by Warren Pleece

  Cover art by Cliff Nielsen

  Cover © 2014 Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of an
y part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Little, Brown and Company

  Hachette Book Group

  1290 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10104

  lb-teens.com

  Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

  First ebook edition: October 2014

  First published in Great Britain by Simon and Schuster in 2014

  ISBN 978-0-316-21432-2

  E3