Chloe Zombie Apocalypse series (Book 1): Chloe (9 page)

“
T
here’s a problem
, Holy One.”

Jonas Metcalf stood at the door to his bedroom. The corridor was dimly lit. Didn’t do his headache any good. He got migraines a lot these days. They started right at the back of his mouth, right in his molars. Spread up into his skull. He worried maybe he had a serious abscess. Used to get a recurring one as a kid. Or maybe this was worse. Maybe it was a tumour of some kind. A brain tumour.

His head throbbed with pain.

It just rallied home the importance of recruiting the right kind of people to the Church of Youth.

Doctors. Dentists. Professionals.

“What’s up, Steve?”

Steve was a short man. He had mid-length hair down to his shoulders, symbolising his longevity within the inner circle of the Church of Youth. He was a good man. Twenty-something. Slender but strong.

And he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.

That was a major bonus.

“It’s—it’s Dan,” Steve said.

Jonas didn’t like the way Steve said Dan’s name. He knew Dan had been out leading a group of scouts earlier. They were looking for the kind of medical professionals Jonas longed for. For teachers. For new recruits.

And for children.

Always for children.

Because youth was the future.

“What about him?”

Steve lowered his head. Dan saw the sweat on his face glimmer in the dim torchlight of the hangar corridor. “He—he—”

“Is he dead?” Jonas asked.

“No. Not dead. But … You need to come see him. Urgently. He has some information.”

Jonas looked over his shoulder. Looked back into the dark confines of his room. For an old hangar storage room, he’d made a decent apartment of it. Put a bed in there. Pinned up some classical artwork he’d taken from wealthy homes in surrounding villages and towns. Giotto. Raphael. Art was important, especially in the end times.

If economics and mathematics were the head of the new generation, then art was the soul.

It was so, so important to preserve the soul.

On his bed, he saw the dark-skinned beauty smiling back at him.

He wanted so much to climb back in bed with her. To taste her plump lips. He called her Ariadne. She didn’t speak English, but that didn’t matter because she eased his headache, relieved his pains.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said.

He made sure to check her handcuffs.

Blood oozing down from her wrists.

Well, tough. He didn’t want her creeping about his room while he was away.

And she didn’t complain.

Much.

He closed his bedroom door. Double locked it. He followed Steve down the corridor, past the converted bedrooms of the other members of the Church of Youth. The higher ranks slept in here. On the floor below this, the lower ranks.

At the bottom, the new recruits.

In an ideal world, he’d put the cells at the very bottom, right in the dirt. Hierarchical beauty,

But they’d converted a perfectly good building across into a prison block, so that would have to suffice.

For now.

“I don’t get why you can’t just tell me what’s wrong with him,” Jonas said.

Steve walked ahead of Jonas. Kept his head down. Led him to the end of the corridor. Towards the staircase. Down the stairs and towards the medical bay. It was basic, but it was doing the trick. And when they recruited some real medical professionals, it would be a thriving hub.

The roots of a new society.

“It’s not that I can’t tell you what’s happened,” Steve said. “It’s—it’s that he wants to speak with you. Urgently. And I fear he doesn’t have much life left inside him.”

Jonas didn’t understand what Steve was talking about initially.

Until he stepped through the thick metal door of the hangar and saw Dan lying back on a work desk they’d converted into a hospital bed.

The first thing Jonas noticed was the blood. The sheer amount of blood covering Dan’s body. Thick. Dark. Congealed.

As he stepped closer, he realised it wasn’t just blood.

There were bite marks.

Lots and lots of bite marks.

Dan’s teeth rattled together as Jonas approached. One of his eyes had been crushed. Blood dripped onto the towel he lay on. His chest had been ripped open. His legs were half the size they used to be. His penis dangled by a thread.

Jonas’ stomach sank when he stood beside Dan. “I’m sorry, brother. I’m so sorry—”

“The girl,” Dan mumbled. His words were pained. He barely had any lips left to speak with.

Jonas leaned in towards Dan. “What girl? Don’t fret, brother. Be at peace. The Lord will welcome you into his—”

“The—the girl. The girl from the…”

He coughed. Spluttered out a load of blood. It was congealed with vomit and pus. He couldn’t have much life left inside him.

He looked back up at Jonas with bloodshot eyes. Jonas could see the life drifting out of them.

“The girl from the … from the diary. She’s tough. She’s strong. She’s…”

Dan coughed again.

This time, he didn’t stop.

He vomited up blood.

Spat it out all over his naked, sweaty body. The air was ripe with the faint smell of rust, the dull taste of sick.

Jonas put a hand on Dan’s head. Eased him back against the pillow. “Sleep, brother. Rest. Don’t agitate yourself—”

“Kill me,” Dan said.

Jonas sighed. Half-smiled. “You know that’s not how we do things. We need to guard this place, after all.”

Even though Dan was well aware of the Church of Youth’s aversion to euthanasia, the terrified look in his eyes told Jonas he’d only just realised what was happening next, only just truly understood. Like he thought he was invincible. Like death would never happen to him.

“Sleep,” Jonas said. “The pain will be over soon.”

Jonas stepped away from Dan.

Checked the cuffs on his ankles and wrists to see he was pinned down properly.

Looked up at Steve. Nodded.

The pair of them walked out of the room. Left Dan in there spluttering away in his final moments. The death could be imminent. Or it could be drawn out and painful. They didn’t have any control over that. It was God’s will.

Dan would leave this world a martyr. A warrior.

And he’d go on to serve after death.

Jonas and Steve walked up to the balcony. Looked out over the steel hangar walls they’d done their best to erect over the last few months. He saw the groups of undead surrounding it. Some of them chained up, most of them free to walk. Undead guards. The best kind of defence.

Not only did they keep invaders away.

They kept the community in.

And that was all Jonas needed.

“The girl,” Jonas said. “The girl he spoke of. In the diary. What was that all about?”

Steve lowered his head. Jonas saw he was shaking.

“Brother? What was—”

“Dan claims he saw a child in the woods. That this child fought him. Led him to his death.”

He reached into his pocket. Pulled out a piece of crumpled paper. There was something pasted on it. Like a photograph. A Polaroid.

“What is that?”

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He handed the piece of paper to Jonas.

Jonas opened it up. Saw a date at the top. January 18th.

In the middle of the paper, a photograph of two young girls. One taller than the other. Both with brown hair. Both on a beach. Both smiling.

“Am I supposed to find this relevant?” Jonas asked.

“Dan brought back a bag. In the bag, there was a diary. Some of the pages were torn out, but he managed to salvage them. The—the girl. The girl on the left. The older one. Dan insists he saw that girl in the woods. Facial scars, now. Skinny. But her.”

“And?”

Steve opened his mouth. Closed it again.

“Talk to me, Steve. You’re scaring me.”

“I … I don’t know how to say this, Holy One.”

“Telling me straight would be a start.”

“This page is an extract from Pete Baines’s diary. The girl Dan encountered. In the woods. She’s … she’s Pete’s daughter. According to the rest of the diary entries, the older one’s name is Chloë.”

Jonas tried to keep his emotions in check as often as possible. It was crucial to remain calm when running a society.

But as the migraine shot through his head, as Pete’s name spiralled through his mind, he couldn’t help but screw the photograph into a ball and throw it to the floor.

“Then you know how important it is we find her,” Jonas said.

He turned from the viewing platform and walked back towards his room.

Images of torturing something Pete Baines cared about so dearly soothed his headache.

C
hloë clenched
her teeth as the pain pierced her chest.

The sun beamed down on the forest, aggressive for mid-morning. It was warm. So warm that sweat dripped down the sides of Chloë’s face. Down her body, making the bolt-wound sting even more.

Except she was shivering.

She was warm and she was shivering.

She knew that couldn’t be a good thing.

Trees surrounded her. Thin, tall trees. As she walked past them, legs weak, head throbbing, she felt sick of seeing them. Sick of the same trees over and over again. She wanted something different. Wanted something new. Only leaving the trees meant leaving the shade and that couldn’t be a good idea.

All she wanted was shade.

Darkness.

All she wanted was rest.

All she wanted was to find the truth about her dad.

The birdsong that surrounded her felt loud. Bees buzzed around, the noise of their rapidly flapping wings droning in her ears. The pain in her chest was bad. Even worse than it was before she’d fallen asleep at the foot of a tree last night. She’d taken the pills. Taken the pills just like Aiden had said.

Only they made her feel worse.

Although she had food and water in the bag, she didn’t feel hungry or thirsty. Well, she did. But her appetite was gone. The thought of drinking water made her want to puke.

She just needed shade.

Just needed someone to look after her…

It didn’t help that her nose was stuffy, her eyes were stinging. She always got bad hay fever this time of year. So bad that her eyes swelled up and she had to leave school sometimes.

Great idea being in the middle of a forest in hay fever season.

Another hurdle to fight through.

For the first time in days, she’d woken with a genuine fear. The wariness had always been there. If it wasn’t, you died, simple as that. But today, she’d been worried. Worried about what might happen to her. What she might find.

But more than anything, she was worried about
not
finding the one thing she wanted.

Dad.

She looked around the ground. Looked for some kind of trail. She knew it was no use. She’d long ago lost the trail back to where she’d seen the CoY people burn Barry alive. To where she’d fought Dan, where he’d been engulfed in the monsters. But she didn’t have many other options but to just keep walking. Keep walking and hoping she might bump into the CoY people again.

Because if she did, she had to follow them.

At least now she knew what they were really like.

She’d use the knife Aiden gave her to defend herself if she had to.

Or to attack.

She staggered through the woods. She knew she needed rest. She felt so stuffy, so headachy, so bad. She needed water. Water was important. But she couldn’t drink it.

Food. Food would be good.

The thought of it brought a taste of burning stomach acid to her dry throat.

She kept on moving though. Kept on moving through the warm stillness. Because that’s what she had to do. She remembered what Aiden said. About her never stepping foot within ten metres of their camp again. She wanted to go back there. She wanted to stay with them. To rest.

But he looked serious.

Like a man of his word.

And she didn’t want to die.

Not anymore.

She stumbled beside a tree. Fell onto her knees. Crouched there in the stillness of the woods. Her head throbbed. Colours filled her eyes. Her breathing picked up.

She felt a warmth creeping up her chest.

Then she puked all over the forest floor.

She wasn’t sure how long she spent throwing up. And unlike other times she’d thrown up when she was ill in the past, it wasn’t making her feel any better. She felt worse every time she puked. The bolt wound stretched every time she heaved, and she felt blood seeping out of the hot tear once more. She knew she was in trouble. She knew she needed help. Some kind of help.

But more than anything, she just wanted her dad.

More than anything, she just wanted…

She saw the tree in front of her.

Saw the marking on the tree.

CoY.

Just like the tree near Barry’s burned body.

CoY.

She looked down. Looked at the ground. Staggered to the side of the tree. There had to be a trail. The CoY people had been here. There had to be footsteps. There had to be some sign they’d been here. There had to be…

On the tree a few metres ahead, she saw the marking again.

And then on the tree after that.

And the tree after that.

She wiped her mouth. Took a deep breath. Tried her best to hold her vomit inside.

Her weak legs followed the trees. A trail. A definite trail. And as the trees got thicker, Chloë noticed the pain in her chest and the nausea in her stomach less and less; the symptoms of her hay fever started to lift, like all she’d needed all along was a sign. Something to focus on.

She stopped when she reached a cave.

It was a strange little cave. Red rock. Lots of soil. Ants crawling along it.

In front of it, etched into the dirt, she saw the letters.

CoY.

She looked into the dark entrance of the cave. Cobwebs covered it. Flies struggled around in the cobwebs. Inside, as she stepped closer, she heard echoing. Echoing of flies buzzing around.

There was something inside that cave.

Their camp?

No. There were too many of them to fit in there.

Their supplies?

She walked closer to the cave. And as she approached, she noticed something. Something covering the cave entrance. Like a grating. A metal grating.

She froze.

A metal grating.

Caves didn’t have metal gratings.

They didn’t—

She heard a snap underneath her foot.

Saw the gate of the cave lift.

Heard something whooshing down from above.

She was already too late when she lifted her head.

A wooden cage fell from the trees. Surrounded her. Spikes coated the outside. It was barely big enough for Chloë to fit inside, and she wasn’t exactly huge.

She tried to stick her fingers under the wooden edges. Tried to lift it, heart racing, nausea building up again.

And then she heard the groan.

She looked up. Looked over at the cave entrance.

Something moving inside.

Something approaching the darkened entrance.

She sat still. Completely still. Temple pulsing. Sweat dripping down her face. No breeze. No birdsong. Nothing.

Just the flies.

And then…

She watched the monster drag itself out of the cave.

Watched the other one pull itself out behind it.

And then another.

And then another.

Chloë sat completely still as the four monsters approached the cage she was trapped inside.

She sat completely still as their rotting hands and fly-bombarded bodies dragged themselves through the dirt.

Because other than the deep CoY markings on their chests, all she could focus on were the types of monsters these were.

You know what they do to the children.

They weren’t just normal adult monsters.

They were all children.

They all had wooden spikes poking out of their flimsy bodies.

And they were coming her way.