Thirteen Roses Book One: Before: An Apocalyptic Zombie Saga Read Free

struggling so much? The fall hurt like a bastard, but it shouldn't make him suddenly ill. Still, his sides hurt and he couldn't draw breath. He meandered down Embankment to the flower seller and stopped, hands on his knees.  
    'Hello, David. You don't look so well, perhaps you should take a seat.'
    The flower seller motioned to a bench and David dropped gratefully into it, grunting as his leg jarred.  
    'What have you done?'
    'Me? Nothing.'
    'You lying bastard. What have you done?'
    'Did your wife enjoy the flowers?'
    David ground his teeth together, eyes getting wet again. Who was he? And where the hell were they?
    'Where are we?'
    'London of course, the most beautiful, wonderful city in the world. You know why I like London so much, David?'
    'Stop using my name, stop calling me that.'
    The flower seller went on, as though he hadn't spoken. 'You can meet anyone in London. You can just be walking along, enjoying the sunshine, or the rain, and bump into someone remarkable. Don't you think that's great?'
    His head was spinning and he rested it on the back of the bench. His voice seemed to come from far away.'What's wrong with me?'
    'Tell me, David, wh--'
    'STOP CALLING ME THAT, STOP SAYING MY NAME.'
    'Goodness. Well, I'm not sure that's entirely called for. What would you have me call you? How about D?'
    David blushed and clenched his fist. How did he know? Was it a lucky guess? He knew it wasn't, though. He knew, somehow. He hated D, almost as much as he hated David. It was one of the many things he wouldn't miss about Amber. It was like the cornflakes. She knew he hated it, but still she did it. What made it somehow worse was that she didn't do it to deliberately annoy him, she just didn't think. Or she didn't think it mattered.  
    'My name is Dave.' He snarled between clenched teeth. The flower seller looked understanding.  
    'I see, well, of course. You asked a question, I believe?'
    He made it sound reproachful and David sat silent, staring at the ground in front of the bench. The silence stretched out and he caved in. 'What's wrong with me?'
    'Well, as I was saying, what's the one thing you're most afraid of?'
    The flower seller finally came out from behind his table and stood before him, nodding and smiling like he'd just sold him a car. David frowned. He'd never really thought about it, not properly. He didn't like spiders all that much, but then, who did?
    He didn't like heights but he could handle them. He'd always found woollen jumpers a bit creepy, but so long as no one in the room was wearing one he was fine. There was something else.  
    He ignored it and shook his head. 'I don't know. Nothing, really, I guess.'
    The man raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. David stared back, determined not to crack first. He did, though. 'Okay, so maybe there is something.'
    He looked around at the long empty expanse of street and the deserted river. He looked across at the London Eye, still spinning and entirely empty.  
    'You already know, so why ask me?'
    'Just curious. It takes a certain courage to admit to one's fears. Just as it does to live a lie.'
    The flower seller turned away and wandered back to his stall. David raised a hand and dropped it again.  
    'Fine, fine. I'm scared of dying alone.'
    The flower seller stopped, hands clasped behind his back, and faced him, face sombre. 'That's right. And you always have been, haven't you?' A smile lit his features. 'Well, what you're feeling is an advanced case of pneumonia. Given the right medical treatment at this moment, you might live. It's probably fifty fifty, if I'm honest.'
    David sobbed, his chest tightening, his throat burning and filling with mucus. The flower seller nodded, smile still painted across his face. David loathed him. At that moment he thought he'd be happy to kill him, to beat him to death. But he could barely lift a hand.  
    'Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be anyone around to help out. Which is a shame, isn't it?'  
    'What do you want from