Chloe Zombie Apocalypse series (Book 1): Chloe (21 page)

“
C
ome on
, Chlo. We can’t hang around. Quick!”

Chloë followed Alice through the cell blocks and back towards the exit door. Her dad stayed by her side all the way, constantly holding on to her hand. She could hear him talking. Hear him urging her to push on. That they were almost there. They’d almost made it.

But Chloë couldn’t turn away from the cells.

She couldn’t turn away from the people chained up in them.

The door rattled. At the other side, Chloë heard scratching nails. Muffled gasps.

Alice pushed herself up to it. “Quick. Seriously. Not sure how long this door’s gonna hold. The dead know we’re in here. They’ll keep on coming unless we get the hell out. Right now.”

Chloë kept on walking across the metal platform. She kept her eyes on the cells she passed. At the beaten men. The malnourished women. The crying children.

People locked away.

The Church of Youth’s prisoners.

She looked into the vacant eyes of the bony woman she’d seen when she first came in here and she felt a lump in her throat.

“I can’t,” she said.

She let go of her dad’s hand. Pulled away.

“You can’t?” Dad said. “Can’t what? Chloë, we’ve got to—”

“I can’t just leave these people in here,” Chloë said. She looked at her dad, and then at Alice. Saw the door rattling behind Alice as the monsters kept on pressing up to it.

“Now’s not the time to mess around,” Alice said. “We—we don’t have time. It sucks but we don’t have time.”

Chloë took in a deep breath. Looked at the cell opposite. “Maybe we do.”

She walked up to it.

Turned the key in the padlock.

Opened the cell door.

“Come on,” she said, looking right at the dead-eyed woman. She walked over to her. Undid her cuffs. “You’re free now.”

She walked out of the cell. Back into the corridor. Unlocked the next cell.

“Alice is right,” Dad said, as thunder crackled above, as the echoing groans of the monsters built up behind the door. “Don’t want to admit it, but she’s right. We don’t have time. We have to get out of here.”

“I came back for you,” Chloë shouted at her dad, freeing another inmate. She walked out of that cell then into another one. Out of that one, into another, all the time telling the inmates that they were safe now, that they were free to walk. “I came back here for both of you. So you can’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

The door rattled again. Alice stumbled forward.

“I appreciate your morals, Chloë,” Dad said, his voice shaking. “I appreciate your bravery, angel. But there’s no more time. We’re going to die if we don’t get out of here. All of us.”

Chloë put the key in the next lock. A child was lying across the floor in there. So starving he looked like one of those kids on the sad charity adverts. “Then you two go,” she said.

She turned the key, walked up to the kid, let him free.

When she left the cell, she saw Dad shaking his head.

“Well? Go!” Chloë said. “If you don’t want to help me, help yourself. Both of you.”

Chloë unlocked another cell.

The door rattled more frequently, more rhythmically.

“You know that’s not what we want,” Dad said.

“I came back for my brave dad. The dad who helped other people. The dad who hugged me when I was sad. Who told me what to say to the bullies. I didn’t come back for a coward.”

She unlocked and uncuffed the final prisoner on this row—a skinny, dark-haired man who couldn’t stop thanking her—then stepped back out onto the corridor.

“So you open that door. Go. But I’m not going anywhere until I’ve got everyone out of here.”

Alice shook her head as Chloë rushed over to the other side of the prison. She lifted the keys. Searched for the right one for the next set of doors.

“Don’t think we’ve got much of a fucking—”

Alice didn’t finish.

The door crashed open.

Knocked Alice to her knees.

Echoing groans filled the cell block.

Ten, twenty, thirty rain-soaked monsters all piled in through the door, all hurtled towards Alice, towards the first person they could.

Alice struggled on the floor. Stuffed her fingernails into the neck of the monster descending onto her, then kicked at its head to finish it off.

Dad backed up. Lifted the remainder of the sharp wire from Chloë’s rucksack. Wrapped it around the head of an oncoming monster at eye level; pulled as hard as he could against its decaying, softened skull.

“We need to go, Chloë!” he shouted.

But Chloë didn’t stop.

She didn’t stop unlocking the cell doors.

Going in, uncuffing people, telling them they were free.

Walking back out and doing the same all over again.

Because she couldn’t. She couldn’t leave these people to die in here. She’d let too many people die. She’d
killed
too many people.

Her killing days were over.

Now, she had to think about what she really wanted.

People to trust.

People to hold her hand.

She didn’t want to be lonely anymore.

And to make sure of that, she needed people.

She’d always needed people.

When she stepped out of the third cell from the end, she saw three monsters hurtling towards her.

She lifted the knife. Stabbed the first monster between its eyes. Pulled back the knife and pierced the next monster in its chin. She could tell from the long hair and the etchings on the bare chests that they were former CoY members. Maybe even the ones on guard at the balcony who had fled earlier.

She didn’t know.

All she could do was make sure she cleared them.

Create a path for the prisoners to escape through.

Fight her way—

She felt something on her right arm. Something sharp. Something splitting. Something hot and indescribable.

She heard a cry from the other side of the monsters. Her dad’s cry. And she didn’t understand why he’d be crying. What he’d be crying about. He sounded so full of grief. Like she imagined he’d sounded when he found out about Elizabeth and Mum.

Like someone close to him had died.

Or been…

She saw it, then.

Saw the blood seeping out of her right forearm.

Saw the monster pushing its teeth further into her flesh.

“No!” Dad shouted.

Chloë stabbed the monster in its head.

She stuck the knife right in. Pushed as hard as she could. Looked it right in its beady eyes as she pushed harder and harder.

She felt its teeth loosen.

Felt it tumble to the floor.

She looked at her arm. Looked at the three craters where the monster’s teeth had pierced. Fear filled her body. A tingling tension stretched down from her head to her toes.

She was bitten.

She was going to become one of them.

She was going to turn into a monster.

She was…

She shook her head.

Snapped the thought from her mind.

And then she pushed on to the next cell. Unlocked it. Released the boy inside.

And on to the next cell, as Dad and Alice continued to stab and scrape at the invading monsters. She let a woman free in there. A woman who looked a bit like her old Gran used to. What had she done? What had she done to deserve being in this place?

When she got to the last cell, she felt her head spinning.

Felt her feet stumbling awkwardly.

She looked down at her arm. Blood was pouring out. Just seeing it made Chloë feel even more sick, a burning taste building at the back of her mouth.

“Chloë!” Dad shouted. The monsters were all down now. He was running Chloë’s way. Running towards her. “Angel. Quick!”

But Chloë had to push on.

She had to get to the final cell.

Open it.

Let the prisoner free.

She reached out for the cell door. But as she did, the keys dropped from her hand. She reached down. Tried to pick them up. But then she tumbled down with them. Fell onto her front.

She rolled over. Looked up. Saw colours in her eyes. In the corner of her vision, she saw Dad and Alice. Saw them leaning down beside her. Saying things. Things she couldn’t hear through her muffled senses. Things she was sure she didn’t want to hear.

“Let the last one out,” Chloë muttered, a metallic tang filling her mouth. “Then … then do it. Take it off. Take it off.”

“Take what off?” Alice shouted. She put a hand on each of Chloë’s shoulders. “Chloë, stay with us. Stay with us, darling. Take what off?”

Chloë wasn’t sure if she told Alice. Wasn’t sure if the words left her lips. But she wasn’t sure she cared.

Because all that mattered was her dad.

Her dad crouching right above her.

Holding her hand.

Telling her everything was going to be okay. That he wasn’t going to let anything happen to his little angel. That he was here for her. He was always here for her. Always would be here for her.

“I love you, my sweet,” he said, his tears landing on Chloë’s face. “I love you.”

She went to tell him she loved him back.

And then her breathing stopped.

Her thoughts seized.

Darkness surrounded.

A comforting darkness.

A warm darkness.

Peace.

P
ete Baines couldn’t ever remember
seeing the sky this beautiful.

He walked over the hills far away from the Church of Youth stronghold. The morning sun was just about peeking over the horizon. The sky was a shade of pink he didn’t even think was possible. He knew the saying. Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight; red sky in the morning, fisherman’s warning. But right now, he didn’t care about the omen it set over the day.

All he cared about was how damned beautiful it looked.

He took a deep breath of the morning air. The storm of the last few days had left a constant freshness to the air. A freshness Pete could always taste. It reminded him of times away on holiday with Claudia and the girls. Peeking out the front of the tent as the rain lashed down. That smell. That beautiful smell.

But more than anything, the beautiful company.

He listened to his feet slushing against the muddy grass. It was the only sound he could hear. And that’s why he liked getting up early, walking up here. He liked his moments with them. His moments of serenity. Not lonely moments. Not at all.

He liked to talk to them.

To talk with them.

Remember them.

He kept on walking up the side of the hill, alone, until he saw the crosses in the ground.

Every time he saw them, he couldn’t help but churn up inside. The memory of the people he’d loved. The people he’d lost.

But at least he’d found out how he lost them.

At least he knew the truth.

He walked towards the wooden crosses. Crouched down in front of them. Pulled away some of the weeds sprouting up beneath them. “Know how you were with your weeds,” Pete said. He recalled Claudia’s demands. Her insistence that he maintain the garden every single damned weekend. He preferred it more wild, more overgrown, but she wasn’t having any of it.

Looking back, he missed her nagging.

He missed everything about her.

“Still here, girls, in case you were wondering,” Pete said. He lifted his head. Looked at the crosses. Then looked over them. Over at the hills. At the sun creeping up from the horizon. At the fields in the distance. The empty towns. The coast.

“Moving on soon though,” he said. “Wish I could take you with me. But I don’t think that’s gonna be very feasible, do—”

He heard the rustling behind him.

The movement in the trees.

When he turned, he saw Alice looking at him.

He sighed. Looked back at the crosses. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” she said, walking out from the trees, perching beside him. “Figured I wanted to see where you got in the mornings. Nice sunrise, huh?”

Pete nodded.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Sat there, just staring at the sun, watching it climb its eternal ladder, bathe the dead world in light.

“Y’know, we don’t have to leave just yet,” Alice said. “If you’re not ready, I mean. We can always rearrange.”

He turned to Alice. Smiled. “No. We have to move on. You know that as well as I do.”

She lowered her head. Smiled.

Then looked back at the rising sun.

The pair of them sat there in the damp grass for another while before standing.

“Never thought I’d cry so much over a bunch of fucking sticks.”

Alice patted Pete’s shoulder. “Hey. It’s what they represent that’s important. Do you want me to get her?”

Pete wiped the tears from his eyes. Shook his head. “Better to let her sleep. She needs her—”

“I think you forget I’m not a baby anymore sometimes.”

Pete turned around.

Chloë was standing opposite.

She had a smile on her scarred face. And although she was missing her right arm, although a bandage was wrapped around its stump, she looked so beautiful in the glow of the sun.

“You should be asleep,” Pete said.

Chloë shrugged. Walked towards him. Took his hand. “So should you.”

Pete squeezed her hand. Not too tight, fearful of hurting the only hand she had left. He smiled. Turned back to the two crosses opposite. One of them with Claudia etched onto it, the other with Elizabeth.

“I miss them,” Chloë said.

“I miss them too.”

“We’ll be okay.”

“Course we will. Always were the two fighters in the family, weren’t we?”

Chloë nodded. Her smile widened. She was lucky. She’d told Pete and Alice to take her arm off after the bite. And as much as Pete didn’t want to, as much as he didn’t want his little girl to suffer, he’d done it. He’d gone ahead and done it.

Anything to save his little girl.

Anything to save his angel.

Days later and Chloë was still standing.

It was then that Pete saw his daughter wasn’t looking at the crosses. She wasn’t even looking at the beautiful sunrise.

She was looking over her shoulder at something.

“What is it?”

“Oh,” Chloë said. “I invited them up. Figured we could get moving early.”

Pete turned.

Behind, he saw the group approaching through the trees. Men. Women. Children. Thirty-three of them in total. They’d lost twenty-one shortly after escaping the Church of Youth. Far too many. And some of them were former guards. Defectors, apparently, like the ones Chloë claimed mysteriously vanished when someone called Harvey pinned her down in the woods.

They’d begged for forgiveness. Pleaded that they didn’t want to be a part of the Church of Youth. That they were only afraid. Terrified.

They weren’t trustworthy. Far from it.

But there were survivors. Two of whom had helped stitch Chloë up. Helped get her back to … well. Not full strength. But to some level of strength.

They were survivors.

A surviving group.

That was what mattered.

Chloë turned around. Gently pulled away from her dad’s hand. She looked at each member of the group.

“None of you have to come with us if you don’t want to,” she said, her voice echoing in the silence. “That’s not how we do things here. But if you want to come with us, if you want to find somewhere safe, somewhere we can all be safe, you can.”

None of the group moved. Not at first.

And then, one by one, they stepped forward.

Each and every one of them stepped forward.

Smiles on their exhausted faces.

Not a word in protest.

Chloë looked up at her dad. Smiled.

“My little leader,” Pete said.

Chloë turned around. Took a few steps to the crosses. Put a hand on her mum’s, then her sister’s. Looked out at the fields. The buildings.

After a few silent seconds, she turned back to the group.

“Then we walk,” Chloë said.

The group stepped out of the dark shadows of the forest, and together, they walked into the rising sun, into the unknown.

Chloë and her father leading the way.

Together.