Good morning everyone! As part of the official blog tour, I have an excerpt for you from Lily Herne’s new novel, The Army of the Lost. Make sure to read right to the end to find out how you can win the entire series. Enjoy!
‘Where are you taking me?’
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve asked the driver this question. I’m not expecting an answer, which is just as well, as I don’t get one. He stares straight ahead, barely seems to be breathing. He’s as bald as an egg, his scalp pitted with old lesions. His right ear is nothing but a hole framed by shiny scar tissue.
He swings the golf cart into another tunnel that stinks of human waste and mould. This one is as dark as the last, and as we hum along, the headlights bob over faded graffiti sprayed on the brick walls. I catch the words: ‘i luv u zombimama’ and ‘danger gevaar oh shit’. Most of the tunnels are ancient, their curved brick walls stained and mossy; others look as if they’ve been recently constructed, their sides bolstered with wooden and metal struts. Every so often, One Ear’s forced to manoeuvre the cart around small rockfalls and piles of crumbled brick. Part of me hopes the ceiling will fall in on us; at least then I won’t have to face whatever they’ve got planned for me.
A blip of condensation drops onto my scalp and dribbles down my cheek. There’s no way I can wipe it off: I’m trussed up like a goat, my wrists bound behind my back with cable ties that bite into my skin, my ankles similarly shackled. I’ve barely slept since the crash, and it would be so easy just to give up, let them do whatever they’ve got planned for me without putting up any resistance. The tendrils lurking in my veins have done their job and the wound in my thigh is healing, but the rest of me throbs as if I’m one big bruise – a dull pain that’s radiating from deep within my chest. Besides, even if I did have the energy to lash out at One Ear, there’s a pistol holstered at his hip. I may heal unnaturally fast and Hester may have taught me to handle myself in a fight, but I’m not a superhero. I’m not bulletproof.