Chloe Zombie Apocalypse series (Book 1): Chloe (20 page)

C
hloë held
her breath as she walked closer to the prison cell door.

The corridor was darker and dingier than she’d first thought. There was a constant acidic smell of urine in the air, a smell she could even taste at the back of her throat. And the closer she stepped to the cell door, the more intense the smells got.

A light flickered overhead. A battery-powered lamp in its last stages. A moth flying around it, head butting it, sizzling.

Chloë heard gunfire outside. Turned around. She could still hear the groans of the monsters. Still hear the battle in the CoY grounds. She wondered about the man who’d helped her. The man whom she’d put her trust in. Wondered how he was getting on. Whether he was still alive. She’d looked for him when she went back for her knife. No sign. No sign at all.

She knew she shouldn’t feel any kind of attachment for anyone in this place. But that man had saved her life.

She’d put her faith in him—put her faith in
someone
—and it had saved her life.

She hoped he made it. She hoped he survived. Because he’d done bad things, sure. But hadn’t everyone?

Chloë put the key in the main door to the cells. She held her breath. Thought about what she was going to say to her dad. How she was going to get him and Alice out of here.

She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

One step at a time.

That’s what her dad always used to tell her.

“How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.”

The thought of eating elephant wasn’t so appealing to Chloë. But she understood what he meant now. Finally.

She turned the key. Pushed open the door. And as she did, she got a stronger whiff of the inside of this cell area. Sweat. Wee. Poo. Sick. All kinds of bodily fluids mixed and shaken up.

She heard coughing. Heard moaning and spluttering.

She held her breath.

She was here for her dad.

Here for her dad and Alice.

It wasn’t her business to deal with anyone else.

It wasn’t her battle to fight.

She walked along the metal walkway around the cells. The room was vast. The ceiling stretched up way above Chloë’s head. To her left and her right, in this darkened room, she saw the gratings of cells. The metal barriers that looked older than Chloë was.

Behind each one of them, Chloë heard crying. Or moaning. Or sobbing.

She swallowed a lump in her throat. Kept her back upright and walked on. She had to find her dad. Had to find Alice. The gunshots outside were dying down. She didn’t have long and she knew it.

She looked in each of the cells. Saw a woman that barely resembled a human anymore. All skin and bone. Bruises all over her face. And a look in her eyes. A look that was as dead as the monsters.

She made eye contact with Chloë. Just for a moment.

But there was no hope there. There was no begging.

Just a silent stare.

Chloë forced herself to turn away. Her eyes welled up. There were more people like that woman. Men covered in cuts and bruises. Children wasting away to nothing. All of them perched at the back of their cells, their bodily fluids surrounding them.

All of them crying, or begging, or silent.

Chloë felt her teeth chattering. She couldn’t face the thought that her dad might be in here. She didn’t know exactly how long he’d been locked up, but she could assume he’d been through hell. She’d seen the length of his hair when the CoY members forced him to kill for them. She’d seen how bony his shoulder blades were.

She’d seen the bruises and the marks all down his back.

He’d suffered. There was no doubt about that.

But she’d put an end to that now.

She reached the very last cell, nausea bubbling in her throat.

Inside, she saw a woman.

She was lying across the floor. She looked unconscious. Dark red hair. Clothes stripped away from her.

It took Chloë a few seconds to realise it was Alice.

“Alice,” she whispered.

She stuck the key in the padlock. Turned it. Pulled it open.

Alice flinched. She leaned back against the wall. Gasped and panted. “Go away,” she shouted. “Go—go away.”

Chloë saw the fear in her eyes. Saw the bruises on her pale face.

She’d been through hell, too. CoY had only had her in captivity for a week and already they’d put her through hell.

She pulled her hood back. “It’s me. It’s Chloë. I’m here to get you out of here.”

Chloë walked closer to her. But she saw the distrust in Alice’s eyes. What had they done to her?

“It’s okay,” Chloë said, edging closer. “It’s okay now. I’m here for you. We’re getting out of here. I promise.”

She crouched down opposite Alice.

Undid her cuffs.

And then she stood back up. Held a hand out.

Alice looked into Chloë’s eyes for a second. Frowned. “You … you shouldn’t be here.”

“No. I have to be here.”

“You should’ve run when you got the—”

“Not with you in here. Not with my dad in here. We don’t have much time. Are you coming with me?”

Alice stayed put. That frown remained on her face.

“I—I suppose I don’t have much choice,” Alice said.

She took Chloë’s hand and they left her cell.

Chloë searched the cells once more. No sign of her dad in any of them—she wanted to be sure, despite what the man had told her—so she moved through the door at the back of the block and on to the corridor of heavy iron doors. The gunfire outside had picked up again, so she could only assume another wave of monsters had descended on the grounds.

Chloë and Alice walked across the cracked tiles. She crouched down when she reached the end of the corridor. Pushed the wire down further. A contingency plan. That’s all it was.

“So what’s the
actual
plan?” Alice asked, threading the wire through the cracked tiles. “Just get me and your dad out of here then hope for the best?”

Chloë checked the wire. When she was done, she tried the keys in each of the metal doors. The filthy greying tiles were cold against her feet. “Something like that.”

“Don’t know if you noticed, but if they catch you … you see what the prisoners look like. You see what they—what they’ve done to me. They won’t hesitate to do the same to you.”

Chloë tried the key in another door. Still no luck. Damn. “I know.”

She kept on walking. Butterflies swarmed her insides. He had to be close. The man who’d let her in here told her as much. Unless he was setting her up. Cornering her.

“Your dad wouldn’t want you in here,” Alice said, traipsing behind Chloë. “He’d want you as far away from this place as possible. Somewhere safe—”

“Nowhere’s safe,” Chloë said. She tried the keys in the final door on the right. “Not with people like these around.”

She turned the key, expecting the worst.

The door clicked.

Opened.

She looked back at Alice. Looked back at the door, just to check she wasn’t imagining things.

The metal door creaked open.

The darkness inside the cell crept out into the dimly lit corridor.

“Be careful, Chloë,” Alice said.

But Chloë didn’t hear her.

She just pulled back the cell door even more.

Stepped inside the darkness.

“Chloë,” Alice shouted. “Be—”

“Chl … Chloë?”

“
C
hl
… Chloë?”

Chloë stood in the darkness of the cell. The voice echoed around her mind. She replayed it, over and over again. Just to know. Just to be sure she’d really heard it.

“Is that … is that you, Chlo?”

She heard the voice again. Her muscles went weak. Her heart started racing. Her mouth was dry. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to think. Behind her, she could hear Alice speaking. Hear muffled words.

But all she cared about was the voice.

Her dad’s voice.

She staggered forward. Stumbled into the darkness.

She saw him, then. Saw him, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Chained up to the dirty tiled wall. Blood dripping down from his bust nose. Long greasy hair trailing down his shoulders. Skinnier than she remembered. Smellier, too.

But all that mattered was he was here.

Her dad was here.

Alive.

“Dad,” she muttered.

She ran towards him. Crouched down opposite him. Gripped him tightly. Hugged him hard. Tears flowed down her cheeks as memories of the loneliness she’d felt for so, so long filled her mind.

“Oh, Chloë,” Dad said. She could hear him crying. “My Chloë. My angel.”

Chloë felt the warmth of his body. Bones in places she never used to feel them when she held him. She knew he’d been through hell. She knew he’d been close to death—probably still was close to death.

But he was here.

And she was here with him.

“How did—how did you—”

“We don’t have much time,” Chloë said, sniffing up, doing her best to keep her emotions in check. The time for a proper warm reunion would come. But only when they got out of this place. Only when they finished the job. “Give me your hands. Let me uncuff—”

“Mum,” Dad said. “Elizabeth. Are they … are they with you? Where’ve you been? Your … your face. What happened to your face?”

As Chloë uncuffed her dad, his questions made her realise just how much he’d missed out on. Just how much she had to tell him. Things she didn’t want to tell him. Things she didn’t want to share.

But truths she had to face up to.

She looked Dad in the eyes. Held his shaking hand. “Mum … I’m sorry, Dad. Mum’s gone. And Elizabeth, too.”

Dad turned away. Let out a few heavy sighs. Tears rolled down his bearded face. His teeth started to chatter.

He closed his eyes. Took in an audible deep breath.

Then he looked back at Chloë. “But I’ve still got you. And you’ve still got me. Angel.”

Chloë felt warmth inside when he called her that. Felt a lump building in her throat. She wanted to hug him so much. Wanted to hold him forever.

She wanted to be safe with him.

But she’d have to work for that.

“Come on,” she said, pulling him up. She could feel a damp patch forming on her legs where she’d kneeled in Dad’s piss puddle. “We need to get you out of here. Get you cleaned up.”

Dad winced as Chloë helped him stand. Smiled. Laughed a little. “You’re so … you’re so grown up. Only been months but you’re like a young woman.”

“This world does that to you,” Chloë said.

She saw Dad’s face turn. Saw the look in his eyes as they stepped further into the light. “Are you … are you okay?”

Chloë looked at the floor. She felt detached from her body, like none of this was real. “I’m here.”

Dad nodded. “You’re here.”

They walked out of the door and Chloë noticed something.

Alice wasn’t there.

She’d gone. Disappeared completely.

Chloë let go of her dad. Stepped closer to the door.

“What’s wrong?”

“She was right behind me,” Chloë muttered.

“Who was right…”

Dad’s voice drifted away.

Chloë looked down the corridor. Down towards the main cell blocks.

In the flickering glow of candlelight, Alice stood.

Behind her, a man. A man she recognised.

Long, dark hair.

Glistening blue eyes.

A dirty bandage tied around his right arm.

A bloodied stump at the bottom of it.

A knife to Alice’s throat.

“You’re not going anywhere,” the Holy One said.

Dad stepped up behind Chloë. “It’s over, Jonas. I can hear it for myself. Your safe haven’s going to shit. Your people are running riot.”

“Which is why you’re not going anywhere,” Jonas said. “Starting with the pretty one.”

He pressed the knife against Alice’s throat.

Alice’s eyes widened.

“No!” Chloë cried.

Jonas sliced.

C
hloë watched
Jonas push the knife against Alice’s throat and slice.

She started to hurtle forward. Started to run free of her dad’s grasp as the first specks of blood trickled down Alice’s neck. As the fear filled her eyes. The realisation of what was going to happen.

No. It wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t going to fucking happen at all.

“Take me!” Chloë shouted.

Jonas stopped.

He stopped slicing Alice’s neck.

She was cut. Blood dripped down her front, covering her chest. But she was still here. She was still alive.

For now.

Dad took a few steps towards Chloë. “Chloë, don’t—”

“It’s me you want to punish,” Chloë said. “It’s my dad you want to make suffer. So please. Let her go. She’s done nothing but help me. She didn’t know what she was walking into. She’s innocent. I swear.”

A smile stretched across Jonas’ face. One of his eyes was bloodshot, twitching. “I can promise you she isn’t innocent. Not after the way our guards have treated her.”

“Then put her back in her cell. It’s me you want. It’s Dad you want. So just … just please. Just let her go. It’s us you want.”

Jonas smiled at Chloë. He looked in pain. His arm, mangled by Alice’s shot, didn’t look in good shape. Sweat rolled down his pale face. He didn’t look much of a leader. Not anymore.

“You hear that?” he said. He lifted his knife hand.

Chloë listened. Listened to the gunshots. To the storm rattling against the foundations of the building. To the shouting and the screaming outside.

“That’s the sound of me losing my grip. That’s the sound of the dissenters in my camp running riot. That’s the sound of oblivion for the future of humanity. For the future of youth. You did this. Not your dad.
You
did this.”

He put the knife to Alice’s neck again.

“So I’ll take as much pleasure in killing her as I will killing you.”

“Then take us out,” Chloë shouted. “If you want to gain control again, you—you take us out. Out in front of your people. Show them who—who their leader is. Show them how strong you are. Defeating the enemy. Making the enemy pay. Just … just take us. Not her. Take us.”

Jonas lowered the knife again. He frowned. Looked past Chloë and at Pete. “She’s got guts, your daughter. I’ll give you that. She must get them from her mother.”

“Just walk away, Chlo,” Dad whispered. He put a hand on her shoulder. Squeezed. “It’s okay. I’m a grown man. I can fight my own battles. But you need to—”

“Are you going to stand there threatening to kill someone I care about or are you going to come over here and get me?”

Jonas’ smile widened. Chloë saw blood stained between his yellowing teeth, his pale skin illuminated in the flickering candlelight. “You think I’m just going to wander over there when you’re armed?”

Chloë pulled the knife from behind her back. Looked at the bloodstains on it. The marks of what she’d done to get here. Of who she’d killed to get here.

She looked back up at Jonas.

And then she threw it over to him.

“Chloë,” Dad whispered. His hand tightened. “What’re you—”

“And the bag,” Jonas said.

Chloë felt the weight on the rucksack on her back. Her heart picked up when he mentioned it. She hoped he hadn’t seen the redness building in her cheeks.

He must’ve done, because his smile stretched. “The bag,” he said. “And then we’ll talk.”

Chloë swallowed. She reached for the bag. The bag she’d travelled so far with—the bag that had been through everything with her.

“You don’t have to give it him,” Dad said. “You don’t have to hand it him, Chlo. Please.”

But Chloë took the bag off her shoulder.

Held it in her hands.

Looked at the wear in the black stitch marks.

At the little yellow phoenix badge she’d found in a raid that she’d pinned onto the side of it.

She rubbed her hands across the smooth material.

Then she took a deep breath.

Tossed the bag over towards Jonas.

She was free.

Jonas looked down at the bag. Looked down at the knife. And then he kicked the bag away. Reached down and picked up the knife. “Okay. I’ll tell you how this is gonna work. You’re gonna walk over here with your hands behind your backs. Both of you. And then—”

“The agreement was you’d come and get us,” Chloë said.

She saw her dad’s eyes head jolt in her direction. Heard him take a sharp intake of breath.

Jonas licked the blood from his teeth. Let out a little laugh. Behind him, the groans of the monsters got louder. “You really do have guts. To think I could just slit the throat of your friend right now. Then walk over to you, all unarmed and vulnerable. Let’s just say it’d be a nice way to wake up from days of unconsciousness.”

“But you won’t,” Chloë said.

Jonas looked up at Dad, then back at Chloë again.

He shook his head.

Put the knife in his side pocket. “No. You’re right. I won’t.”

He pushed Alice back. She fell onto her backside, banged her head against the loose, cracked tiles.

Chloë felt her body tumble forward.

She reached for the cracked tiles as quickly as she could.

Felt the sharp pain in her right palm.

But she kept on holding on.

Kept her gaze on Jonas.

He walked towards her. Blood dripped from the bandage on his arm. His walk was slow, and he swayed with every step. “Y’know, there’s few greater post-coma treats than punishing someone you despise. Punishing someone who took everything away from you. It’s like … it’s like I got a second chance. Like God wasn’t quite ready for me. Like he wanted me to make the pair of you pay. For what you both did.”

Chloë didn’t know what her dad had done yet. Not exactly. All she knew, it was something to do with him being a leader, and then everything falling apart at the hands of Jonas and his cult.

He kept on walking towards Chloë and her dad. Knife raised. Alice climbed back to her feet. Chloë felt the shift in weight. The tightness intensifying as she moved back towards the cell door.

Jonas stopped right in front of Chloë. Just four feet away. He looked down at her. Breath sour. Body so warm it felt like it was on fire. “Thing is, I don’t need to murder you in front of my colleagues. Not anymore.”

He stepped forward.

His foot pressed down on the cracked tile.

“I can just have my way with you right here. Rape you. Murder you. Not necessarily in that order.”

He lifted the knife.

“Hey, Jonas?” Chloë said.

He stopped. Narrowed his eyes.

“You might want to get your tiles relaid in future.”

He frowned. “What—”

The tiles crumbled away under his right foot.

Chloë nodded at Alice.

Alice pulled on the sharp wire at her end of the corridor.

Chloë pulled in her direction.

Then she yanked the wire to the right.

Sliced into Jonas’ left foot.

He let out a cry. Tried to stab at Chloë, but tumbled to the floor. Blood oozed out of his foot, a combination of the wire and the cracked tiles.

“You cunts,” he said, struggling to pull his foot out of the broken tiles, struggling to stand. “You fucking—argh!”

Chloë wrapped the wire around his left thigh.

She pulled it. Tight.

Watched as blood drooled out of his leg.

As the skin gave way to the hair-thin wire.

As she sliced away at the muscle.

He fell forward. Threw up. Groaned with agony.

Chloë crouched beside Jonas.

Reached down for the knife.

He pulled it away. Slashed at Chloë. “Fuck off. Fuck right off, you little—”

“Okay. We’ll do it the hard way.”

Chloë booted Jonas in his stump of a right hand.

He let out a hysterical cry.

So she booted it again.

And again.

And again.

Until he let go of the knife.

Let it fall to the tiles.

Chloë took the knife. She pulled Jonas’ head forward. Pulled it so he was looking her right in her eyes.

“Come on,” Dad said. “Leave him. Don’t sink to his level. He’s not worth it.”

Chloë kept on staring into Jonas’ eyes. And even in his agony, she saw a smile. A smugness to his expression. Like he was invincible. Like his guards would come running back to protect him. Like there was another twist; something that would keep him alive, once again.

“No,” Chloë said. She pressed the tip of the knife against his clenched teeth. “He is worth it,” she said.

She pulled back the knife.

Cracked it against his teeth.

Cracked again and again until his front teeth split away.

The metallic taste of blood strong in the air.

“I want you to look at me,” Chloë said, smacking Jonas’ cheek as his eyes drooped into unconsciousness.

“Chloë—”

“I want you to fucking look at me,” she said.

She stabbed him through his cheek.

Ripped his mouth apart.

He cried. Blood oozed down Chloë’s hands. His eyes opened fully. He looked right at Chloë.

“Good,” Chloë said. “That’s better. That’s much better.”

She pressed the blade to his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“My name is Chloë Baines.”

She pressed the knife into his neck.

“I’m just a child.”

Pushed it further into his swelling Adam’s apple.

“I’m the youth. I’m the fucking youth of this world. Not your cult. Not any of it.”

She pushed the knife further in.

The pressure of Jonas’ throat could barely contain the blade.

So much blood inside his neck waiting to be spilled.

Chloë leaned in close. Right in to his ear.

“And I’m the one who killed you,” she said.

She pressed the knife in.

Felt his Adam’s apple burst.

Felt blood gush down her left shoulder as she kept on pushing, holding on to the back of his head, pushing further and further.

She wasn’t sure how long she kneeled there listening to Jonas choke on his blood.

But she waited until he’d stopped before she removed the knife.

Pushed him away.

She wiped her hands. Wiped them on her black cloak.

Then she looked up at her dad. Saw the horror in his eyes. Saw that look of disbelief. Like she wasn’t the girl he thought she was. Like she wasn’t his little angel anymore.

Chloë held out a hand for her dad. “Like I said. This world changes us.”

Dad looked at it for a few seconds.

Looked at the sweat dripping from Chloë’s hair.

Looked at Jonas, face down in a pool of his own blood, lying across the floor.

Looked at Alice, standing there beside Chloë, clinging on to her bleeding neck.

Then, he took his daughter’s bloodied hand.

Squeezed it tight.

Together, the three of them walked.