Chloe Zombie Apocalypse series (Book 1): Chloe (16 page)

“
T
his the place
?”

“Yeah. This is it.”

Chloë and Alice crouched at the top of the hill. They stayed right behind the thick mass of trees just in case anyone was out on watch. They looked down at the CoY camp. Looked at the walls, which a few monsters were chained up to. Looked beyond the walls at the hangars, at the red-bricked building inside the grounds. The cool breeze carried a smell of smoke, of burning.

Chloë didn’t like to think about what might’ve been burning.

“Hardly seems like the thriving community I was expecting,” Alice said.

Chloë took a dry swallow. Alice had a point. She couldn’t believe how quiet it was. She’d watched the place for some time now. Never once was it this quiet. This silent.

To add to the weirdness, none of the monsters that had staggered freely around the grounds were here anymore. It made sense that maybe they’d wandered off. Nothing stopping them.

But Chloë worried that maybe, if the monsters had gone, something had drawn them away.

Like CoY moving.

Clocking on to the fact that somebody was hunting them. Moving on.

“Come on then,” Alice said. “Better get finding those people you told me about.”

Chloë nodded. She looked to her left. That was another problem. She’d told the women she’d saved from the CoY executioners to meet her here. To wait out in the woods for her. She didn’t know when exactly she’d return, but she’d aimed for today.

There was no sign of them.

No sounds.

Nothing.

Chloë walked through the woods. She kept low. Kept her eyes on the CoY base. There was something wrong about how quiet the place was. She’d watched yesterday and seen a guard at the watchtower beside the gate all the time. She knew that was going to be a problem. It was why she’d made her alternate plan to blend in with the other prisoners in the first place.

Then, she’d launch her attack from within.

Save her dad.

But there was no one at the gate.

“How much further?” Alice asked.

Chloë and Alice waded through the tall grass. She saw the rock where the man she’d killed had been tied. Saw flies buzzing around his bitten innards. Head resting on his chest.

No sign of the women.

No sign of anyone.

Anything.

“This place creeps me out, Chlo. It’s not just me. Right?”

Chloë looked around. Looked at the trees. So silent. So empty. “They should be here.”

“Well, they aren’t. So I suggest we go back and take a look at that camp. Do you have a backup plan, or are you just winging it as we go?”

Chloë didn’t answer. She walked back out of the thick mass of trees. Stood at the edge of the woods. Looked down at the entrance to the CoY camp.

“Wait,” she said.

She squinted. Started staggering out of the safety of the trees.

“Chloë?” Alice said. “The hell you think you’re—”

“The gate,” Chloë said. “The gate’s open. Look.”

She pointed. Alice squinted. And then her eyebrows rose. “An open gate and a shitload of silence. Am I the only one who feels awkward about all this?”

Chloë lifted her knife in one hand, her gun in the other. “We can sneak in. We can get in and out before they get back.”

“Back from where?”

“I don’t know. But they’ve gone somewhere. They’ve gone hunting. Or something. Whatever.”

“And you know all this how?”

“If my dad’s in there, we get him out. If he’s out with them, we wait for him to come back. But this is my chance. This is it. I’m going in.”

Chloë stepped forward.

She didn’t hear Alice’s footsteps follow.

She turned. Looked back at Alice. She was still standing in the safer confines of the trees. The crossbow hung at one side. A scoped gun dangled around her shoulders.

“
Your
chance? Or our chance?”

Chloë looked to the ground. “I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, kid. But I didn’t sign up for this. I signed up for a plan. Not a suicide mission. This is wrong. Very fucking wrong. And I’m not gonna just walk into a deathtrap with you. You may be tough, but you’re not as old as me. You don’t have the same intuition as me. And I’m telling you right now—this is wrong. Walk away.”

Chloë’s chest tightened. She stared back at Alice. She wanted to walk back to her. Think this through. She was fed up of being alone. She and Alice worked well as a team.

She
trusted
her.

That was something.

But then she looked back. Saw the partly open gate.

She thought about her dad. Thought about her opportunity.

“I’ll see you around,” Chloë said.

Then, she walked.

She heard Alice calling for her. Heard her begging her to return.

But Chloë couldn’t return.

She could only keep on walking.

Walking down the open hill.

Towards that open gate.

Towards her dad.

T
he walk
to the gate stretched on forever. The silence intensified. As Chloë looked around at the trees, she felt like they had eyes. Like they were watching her. Peering into her soul.

She reached level ground. Looked at the crack in the gate. She could get in there. Get in and find her dad. Sneak out.

Or wait for her dad. One or the other. Didn’t matter which.

She just had to get inside.

She looked back up the hill. Saw Alice was gone. Her stomach sank. She liked Alice. She was good for her. A good friend. A good companion. But she had every right not to join Chloë. Like Trev said, everyone should have a chance to choose how they die.

Alice had just decided that this journey wasn’t worth the risk.

Chloë couldn’t hate her for that.

She walked slowly towards the gate. Stepped off the grass and onto the concrete. Shit, concrete felt weird under her feet. It felt so alien after months of walking on nothing but grass and soil.

She put one foot in front of the other.

Got closer to the open gate.

Closer to whatever lay ahead.

She heard something snap. A branch snap somewhere behind her.

She looked back.

Wind brushing against the trees.

Not a sign of life.

Nothing.

She continued her walk to the gate. The silence was even more intense down here. So intense that it felt
wrong
.

But she had to push on.

She reached the open gate. Put her hand against the rusty metal. Further down the wall, she heard something.

Metal on metal.

A groan.

She jumped. Her heart picked up.

But her fears were eased when she saw it was just one of the monsters chained to the fence.

She dry swallowed. Turned back to the open gate. Looked inside the grounds. The camp all looked so much bigger now she was on the same level. Much more vast.

Easier to hide in.

But harder to find her dad in.

She put a foot over the boundary between the gate and the outside.

Squeezed through the gap.

Held her breath.

And then she shuffled inside the CoY camp.

She looked around. Looked at the red-bricked building towering above her. The other building to her left where she saw the lights in the windows last night. Looked at the metal hangars, one in red, one in blue, one in yellow, all rusty.

She walked across the rough gravel. Saw a cross in the middle of the ground. A burned-out cross. On it, a charred black substance.

A substance she realised was a body.

She started to walk past it, keen not to focus on it too much, when she saw something.

Something pinned to the front of it.

A piece of paper.

Just like the ones in Dad’s diary.

Pinned up to the chest of that body.

Staring back at her.

On it, something written. Something too small for her to see.

Chloë crept towards it. Squinted. And as she got closer, her pulse picked up. Her mouth dried.

She could see the words.

She could see them, but she couldn’t make sense of them.

Hello, Chloë.

A smiley face drawn underneath it.

She felt her body go numb.

Then she heard a gunshot echo through the valley.

She turned. Looked around.

Through the open crack of the CoY gate, she saw a crowd of people.

No. A
mass
of people.

All of them with CoY etched on their chest.

At the front of them, a long-haired man stood. One she hadn’t seen before. He was holding a megaphone.

“Hello, Chloë. A very warm welcome to you. Do make yourself at home. We’ll be with you in a moment. Once we’ve finished the show.”

Chloë couldn’t think. She could only run.

She ran towards the gate.

She had to run.

She had to get out.

She had to—

The gate slammed shut.

The megaphone crackled. “As I insisted, make yourself at home. And find a viewing platform. I believe you’re going to want to watch what we’ve got planned for you. If you want your dad to live.”

“
C
ome on
, Chloë. I insist. You really aren’t going to want to miss this.”

Chloë stood in the middle of the CoY grounds. She stared at the closed gate. Her heart raced. The sound of the megaphone echoed down the valley, in through the gates. How could she have been so stupid? Alice had warned her. Warned her about pressing on. Warned her that things didn’t seem right. That it all just seemed too … easy.

And Chloë had believed her. She’d seen that for herself.

But the promise of reunion with her dad.

The slim hope that perhaps, just perhaps, he was still inside here.

It’d made her do something stupid.

People did stupid things for the ones they loved. She’d learned that lesson many times already in her short life.

And now she was paying the consequences.

She stumbled back. She had to find another way. There had to be a route out of here. A way of sneaking around them. A tunnel. A rear entrance. A—

“Of course, if you don’t find yourself a nice viewing platform, I have no qualms about ripping your dad’s limbs from his body. I’ll play his screams over the megaphone.”

The mention of her dad made Chloë’s body go numb.

So he really was a prisoner. She didn’t know at what stage he’d been taken prisoner—whether it was before she’d seen him execute Seth in the forest or since then—but this leader was using him. Using him as a weapon.

Chloë just wanted to see him.

More than anything, she wanted to see him.

She hurried forward. Climbed up one of the metal ladders that led up to the watchtower at the gates. Her hands ached. Her muscles were weak. She tasted vomit at the back of her throat. She just wanted her dad. More than anything, she wanted her dad right now.

She had a bad feeling that she was getting her dad.

Only not in the way she’d hoped.

She reached the top of the watchtower.

Poked her head above the wall.

She saw them, now. Saw all the CoY members standing around the walls. All of them holding guns. Some of them holding knives, too.

At the front of them, there was another little group.

On their knees.

Dripping wet.

A member of CoY stood behind each of them.

“There you are. You’re responsive, I’ll give you that. Pleasure to finally meet you, Chloë.”

She looked into the eyes of the man holding the megaphone.

She wanted to shout back. Scream. Ask where her dad was. Ask him to release him.

But then she saw him.

She saw the back of the man kneeling right in front of everyone else.

Black blindfold wrapped around his eyes.

Earphones over his head.

Hair still long and gangly, his body skinny.

Dad.

“I see you’ve found our home,” the main speaker said. “I hope you find your stay comforting. As brief as it will be.”

She looked at her dad. Saw him trying to swing around. Trying to turn his head to make eye contact with Chloë, even though he was blindfolded.

The speaker smiled. “What you need to understand is that initially, there was nothing personal about this. You could’ve just walked up to our gates. Asked us for residence. Begged for forgiveness. And as the Holy One of the Church of Youth, I would’ve taken your request very seriously.”

The Holy One
. So this was the man in charge.

He lowered the megaphone. And as he did Chloë sensed something was about to happen. She’d heard people talking about him. And if the ruthless people who burned men and women alive did that sort of thing in his name, she worried. Worried what he’d do to her dad.

What he’d do to her.

He walked over to someone crouched down in the grass. Lifted the megaphone to his mouth. “I think first though, before anything else, it’s important you realise the high price for your errors. And I think it’s important your father realises that, too.”

He lowered the megaphone.

Nodded at the man standing behind her dad.

They lifted the headphones from his ears.

Pulled the blindfold from his eyes.

“Pete,” the Holy One said. He smiled. “We spoke. About what you’d do if your daughter arrived. I’m delighted to say, that day has come.”

Dad twisted and turned his head. Chloë wanted to scream out for him. She just wanted him to look at her. Look her in the eyes. But the long-haired man with the black coat and open chest behind her dad wouldn’t let him turn. He held his neck. Made him stare at the line of people kneeling in the grass.

Women.

Children.

A man.

Wait …

Chloë squinted.

Her stomach turned.

The Holy One walked up behind the man. “I believe this is the man you travelled with,” he said.

Trev.

Oh God no.

Trev’s eyes drifted. Joining the bleeding bite wound on his eyes were bruises and scratches all over his face and forehead.

“Shame. Shame that he should have to pay for your errors.”

He turned to Dad.

“For your daughter’s errors.”

The Holy One stepped back.

Patted his fellow CoY man on his shoulder.

The CoY man walked towards Trev.

Lit a match.

Dropped it on him.

Trev’s screams filled the valley. Agonising screams that lasted for the longest seconds Chloë had ever experienced.

He tried to struggle free, tried to roll from side to side to ease the flames.

But he was tied down.

So he could only kneel there and burn.

Chloë looked on.

The Holy One walked to the next of the people crouching down. Chloë noticed some of the other CoY members staring on in horror at the burning man. Others were smiling. Clapping. Cheering.

“And this woman. The one you tried to help get away. The one you attempted to recruit as a part of some insurgency.”

Chloë didn’t realise what the Holy One was saying initially. She didn’t know what he was talking about.

And then she recognised the woman.

One of the women she’d saved. The prisoners. The ones who’d been taken out to turn, left out as monster food.

Beside her, the other women.

Beside them, two children.

“Your daughter killed these people, Pete. She condemned them to agony. To death.”

The Holy One patted the second CoY man on his shoulder.

Like his predecessor, he stepped forward, lit a match, set the woman alight.

The next CoY man followed.

Set the next oil-doused woman on fire.

Their screams filled the valley.

Filled Chloë’s mind.

Their echoes would never go away.

Never.

“This is what happens, Chloë,” the Holy One said. He turned to the onlooking crowd of CoY members, flames crackling, smoke filling the air. “All of you. This is what happens. This is what happens when you plot these terrorist activities. This is what happens when you upset our lord the Holy One.”

Chloë saw fear in the eyes of the bulk of the crowd.

She saw longer-haired CoY men standing around the group with guns.

Only the guns were pointed at their own.

It was then that she realised that CoY wasn’t just a place where people lived willingly. The enemies weren’t just in prison.

The whole place was a prison.

And this was just another way of making the citizens afraid enough to follow their leader.

The Holy One walked up to the child. The boy Chloë had saved. Skinny. Bruised knees. Dirty fingernails.

He sat on his knees, crying. Snivelling. Begging for his mummy.

The Holy One looked down at him. Stared at him with those glassy blue eyes.

Then he lifted his head.

“This is what happens when you insult the lord above.”

He walked back to the CoY man behind him.

Patted him on the shoulder.

But the man didn’t move.

Chloë saw it. Saw the look in his eyes. Wide-eyed fear.

The Holy One patted him on the shoulder again. Whispered something in his ear.

Tears rolled down the boy’s cheeks.

The CoY man shook his head. Wiped his eyes. Kept on shaking his head.

The Holy One turned back to the group. Back to his citizens. “And this is what happens when a brother revolts.”

He nodded at a guard over on the left.

“No,” the terrified CoY man said. “No! Please—”

A bullet splattered through his head.

Covered the grass in blood and skull fragments.

The Holy One walked up beside the fallen guard. Lifted the matches from the ground. Chatter emerged amongst the CoY citizens. Fear in their voices.

The Holy One turned back to Chloë. “I want you to know this is all on you. Every last bit of it.”

He lit the match.

Walked over to the snivelling little boy.

Grabbed his hair, yanked his head back.

“I want you to feel guilt for your actions before we deal with you directly.”

He dropped the megaphone.

Lit the match.

“No!” Chloë screamed.

The Holy One held the flame to the little boy’s hair.