Chloe Zombie Apocalypse series (Book 2): The Journey (11 page)

C
hloë held
her breath as the monsters edged closer.

She squeezed her dad’s hand. Squeezed it with her only hand. Felt the warmth of it seeping through. And if she squinted enough, if she closed her eyes and ignored the shuffling figures hurtling towards her, she could convince herself she was just queueing up for a rollercoaster at the theme park with him, or watching a scary film, looking for his comfort.

But the groans were getting louder.

The sour smell of death getting closer.

The monsters’ snapping jaws closing in.

“Hey! Quick!”

The voice came from behind. She turned around. Realised it was Alice. Cassandra and Dean were either side of her.

They were holding something. A metal pole of some kind. It was thin. Didn’t look so sturdy. Only reached three metres across the gap.

But it was something.

“You need to jump,” Alice shouted. “Quick!”

Chloë looked at her dad.

Then she looked back at the gap.

The groans of the monsters grew closer.

They’d be on her soon. On her dad soon.

This was it.

This was her chance.

She looked down at the drop below. If she slipped, if she failed to grab the pole, or if one of the others let go, she’d fall. Fall to her death. Her life would be over.

She had to put her life into somebody else’s hands.

Chloë turned back. Looked at the army of monsters. “I… I can probably try—”

“We need to trust them, Chloë,” Dad said. “Both of us. We need to trust them. Now go on. You… you go first. I can lift you part way.”

“But what about—”

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself. Come on. Trust them. Trust me. Please.”

Chloë swallowed the lump in her throat. She looked into Dad’s eyes and saw tears building up.

“I’m scared.”

“I’m scared too. But I’ll be a lot less scared if you trust me. Let me lift you part way across. Please.”

Chloë felt her chest tightening.

Felt her heart racing.

She had to trust her dad.

She had to trust her friends.

She nodded.

Turned to face the gap.

“Go on.”

Dad stepped up behind Chloë. Lifted her. The moment her feet raised from the ground, Chloë struggled. She wanted to beg. Beg Dad to let her go. Kick free of his grip.

But then she remembered his words.

“Trust me. Please.”

So she held her breath.

Let him lift her across the opening.

She looked at the metal pole. Looked at Alice, Cassandra, Dean all holding on to it. She saw their wide eyes. Saw their pale faces. She knew they were scared too. Just as scared about this as she was.

She tried not to think about the deafening groans behind her.

Tried not to look down.

Down at the drop.

“Go on,” Dad said. “You—you should be able to just about reach. If you stretch.”

Chloë glanced down instinctively. Her body went numb. “I—I can’t. I can’t—”

“You can. And you will. Or we’ll both die here.”

Chloë took a deep breath in through her nostrils.

Thought about Dad.

About Elizabeth.

About Mum.

About all the people who’d cared for her.

She let go of her breath.

Stretched out her fingers.

Grabbed the end of the metal pipe.

Dad started to lower her. She felt her body weight shifting from his arms to the pipe. Heard the other group members wincing as they tried to hold on, as they tried to pull her up.

Chloë gripped the pipe as tight as she could. Felt Dad’s hands edging away from her body. Felt his fingers loosening.

“Don’t let go.”

“I’m right behind you.”

“Please don’t let go.”

But then his fingers were gone.

Chloë was on her own.

She felt herself falling. Hurtling down towards the ground. This was it. It was over. Everything was over. She was falling. She was going to die. She was—

She stopped falling.

“Climb, Chloë!”

Chloë looked up. Gripped onto the pipe with her one hand, with her legs.

A vein bulged at the side of Dean’s head. Cassandra and Alice clenched their jaws.

“Climb!” Dad shouted.

His voice drowned out by the groans.

Chloë looked down. Again, instantly regretted it.

She held her breath.

You can do this. You can do this.

She clung onto the pipe with her thighs and shifted her weight upwards.

The pain tore through her stomach. Made her cry out. But she was doing it. She was making it. The group was lifting the pipe and she was rising. Second by second, she was rising.

She heard the metal clang against the side of the motorway. Held on tight as her group members dragged her up. She heard something thump on this side of the bridge. Something directly above her. Behind her, on the other side, she heard the monsters. Heard them right at the edge.

She tried not to think about Dad.

Tried to hold back the tears for now.

Alice, Dean and Cassandra pulled her up. And the moment she got to the other side, Chloë turned around. Looked for her dad. Looked for any sign of him.

The monsters tumbled off the edge of the bridge like lemmings.

Her dad was gone.

Completely gone.

She felt her chest tighten. Felt like her body was caving in. She wanted to jump back there. She couldn’t lose him. Couldn’t be without him. Not after how hard she’d fought to find him again.

No.

Not Dad.

Not—

“We did it, angel. We did it.”

She felt the hand on her left shoulder.

Opened her tearful eyes.

Dad was standing beside her. Smiling. Blood on his hands, but alive.

Dad was alive.

Chloë wrapped her arm around him. Let out her tears. Squeezed him tight. “How—how—”

“All that long jump practice came in handy after all,” Dad said, stroking the back of Chloë’s head. “Well done, Chlo. Well done everyone.”

Chloë wiped her eyes. She didn’t want to pull away from Dad. She didn’t want to ever let go.

But she looked past him.

Smiled at Alice, Dean, Cassandra.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”

Alice rubbed her hands. Chloë could see the blisters from here. “I’d love to say it was ‘no problem.’ But that’d be lying. It really was—”

Something whooshed through the air.

Slammed into Alice’s right shoulder.

Alice felt for her shoulder. Pulled the long piece of metal out of it.

Then she looked back at Chloë and fell to the road.

Chloë’s body tightened. “Alice!”

But she didn’t finish.

She didn’t finish because more of these little metal objects hurtled through the air.

Hitting Cassandra.

Dean.

Dad.

Chloë saw the people in the distance. Dressed in black. Three, four, five of them, all heading in her direction, all holding guns, all—

She felt a pain in her chest.

Looked down.

Saw a piece of metal hanging out of it, piercing through her cloak.

A dart.

She started to pull it away. To run towards her attackers.

Then her fingers went tingly.

Her eyes filled with colours.

Everything went black.

D
arkness surrounded Chloë
.

She opened her eyes. Tried to look around. But she was stuck. Trapped. Thick blackness swallowed her up. Her chest hurt. Her throat was dry. Her heart raced.

Something happened.

Something happened to her.

Something…

The bridge. Back at the bridge. She remembered climbing up. Finding her dad at the other side.

And then someone had fired at her group.

People dressed in black.

People with guns.

They’d fired darts. Fired darts at Chloë, Dad, at everyone.

And then darkness.

And now…

She screamed out. Screamed at the top of her voice. It hurt her throat. Her head stung like she’d banged it.

The darkness didn’t go away.

Her voice echoed around the room she was in.

She tried to take a few steady breaths. The room smelled like metal. It was cold. Cold, not like the cold of outside at night, but like a room in the shade on a hot day.

Or maybe it was night time now. Maybe a day had passed. Maybe a week had passed.

She didn’t know.

All she knew was she was trapped.

She had to get out.

She had to escape.

She kicked out. Pulled her left arm forward.

She heard a chain rattle.

Pulled it again.

No movement.

She was attached to the wall. Cuffed to the wall. A prisoner.

She took a few deep breaths again. Felt her eyes swelling up.

“Dad!”

She didn’t like falling back on her dad. Not usually. But right now she wanted him. Right now she needed him. Because she’d been hurt enough. She didn’t want to be hurt again.

She’d been hurt so many times she’d lost count.

She wanted him here.

She wanted her group here.

“Dad!”

A sound. Somewhere in front of her. Metal on metal. Screeching.

She heard a door creak open. Felt a gentle breeze.

She kept still. Completely still. Held her breath. Limbs shaking. She looked at where the door opened. Pictured someone standing there. A biker. Moustache Man. Cameron.

No.

No, they were gone.

They were all gone.

They couldn’t hurt her anymore.

They couldn’t—

The darkness suddenly gave way.

She squinted. Squinted, as someone pulled a black mask away from her head. She tried to see their face, but everything was blurry.

“Your name?”

The woman’s voice was deep. Stern. She didn’t sound happy. Not someone Chloë wanted to mess with.

But if she’d hurt her dad… she’d mess with her.

The woman stepped towards Chloë. It was then that Chloë realised she was in a white-tiled room. A metal door rested ajar ahead of her. At both sides, two men stood, both wearing black masks much like the one Chloë had worn, only theirs had eye sockets.

“Your name. Please.”

Chloë squinted at the woman. Turned to the two men. She felt trapped. Like she couldn’t avoid answering them. Like she couldn’t escape, no matter what.

But she couldn’t give up her name.

Not to these people.

These people who’d darted her.

Cuffed her up.

These people who’d do what people always did to girls like her.

“Fuck you,” Chloë said.

She spat a frothy blob of spit right at the woman.

The woman looked down at it. Wiped it away with the edge of her coat sleeve.

And then she stepped forward.

Into the dull light.

For the first time, Chloë saw her face.

She was old. Well, not Mum or Granny old, but older than Chloë, which meant she was ancient. Thirties, maybe. She had chocolate brown hair cut so it curved around to the bottom of her jaw. Chloë thought it looked silly, but she wasn’t in a position to say anything. She had dark eyes. Olive skin. And a hard mouth that looked like it’d never smiled before.

“I’ll forgive you for that. Because you’re afraid. But I need a name. Without a name, we can’t go anywhere here—”

“What’ve you done with my… my friends?” She didn’t want to give her dad up. Didn’t want them to know someone she cared so much about was here with her. People did the nastiest things to mothers, fathers, children.

The woman glanced at one of her men. Then back to Chloë. “Your friends are fine.”

“I want to see—”

“And if you tell us your name, you can see them. It’s just how we do things. So I’ll try again. What’s your name?”

Chloë gulped. She stared the woman in the eye. “Where’s my friends?”

For the briefest moment, Chloë saw the woman’s eyes narrow.

And then she saw the slightest smile flicker at the corners of her mouth.

“Un-cuff her,” the woman said.

Chloë’s thoughts froze. Her chest tightened. “What?”

“You show good resistance. You show good loyalty. That’s exactly what we’re looking for.”

The men clipped her free of the cuffs.

Pulled her up, onto her feet.

The woman held her right hand out. Then she lowered it, switched to her left. “Melissa Clark. Sorry for the scare. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Chloë.”

Chloë didn’t take her hand. “How did you—”

“Your friends. Like I said.”

“What have you done with them?”

Melissa’s thin smile grew some more. “Like I said. I haven’t done a thing with them. You can see them. If you really want.”

Chloë thought about saying no. Looked at the ajar door. Thought about making a break for it.

“Before you run, I want you to know that there’s guards on the end of every corridor. So unless you want another dose of darts, I suggest you stay put.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Melissa’s eyes glistened. “You don’t. But you won’t run now. Will you?”

Chloë considered running just to prove the woman wrong.

In the end, she stayed put.

“Good. Now follow me.”

Chloë followed Melissa out through the cell door. The two guards stayed behind her, neither of them saying a word.

“Good stunt you pulled back at the bridge. A few seconds later and we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Chloë walked down the dimly lit corridor. Saw more metal doors like the one she’d been locked up behind. “You were watching me?”

“Yes. We were watching you.”

“Why?”

Melissa opened her mouth. Then she closed it. Cleared her throat. “We run a toll service. A five mile stretch of North Wales that you just happened to stumble upon. So we require a payment. That’s why you’re here.”

Melissa stopped at a white door. Chloë stared at it.
Payment
. The word made the little hairs on her arms rise. Every time “payment” had been mentioned in the past, it had meant one thing.

Punishment.

Or the naughty “s” word. The adult one.

Sex.

Chloë stepped back. Bumped into the guards. “Whatever you want, I won’t give it you. I—I just won’t.”

Melissa frowned. “Everyone makes a payment.”

Chloë shook her head. She tried to wriggle free of the guards. One of them grabbed her left shoulder. Another pushed her back.

No getting away.

Trapped.

Melissa lowered the handle of the door. “It’s only fair. And I’m sure when you see our setup, you’ll agree it’s fair too.”

Chloë looked away. She didn’t want to see inside the room. If her dad was in there, did he have to make a payment, too?

She thought about CoY. About all they’d put him through.

And what other people had done to her. What they’d put her through.

She didn’t want to make any kind of payment.

She just wanted to get away.

She just wanted to…

“Come on through,” Melissa said.

The guards eased Chloë through the door. And she walked. She walked willingly.

All because of what was in this room.

Old people were sitting in cushioned chairs. A big glass window looked out over acres of fields, masses of mountains. Two old men looked out of it, both of them wearing white shirts and black ties. At a table in the corner, three people played cards. More old people.

And to the left of the room, as Chloë continued walking, she saw a dark-haired man in a wheelchair. He was younger, but someone was feeding him out of a can, and he wasn’t saying much. There were a couple more people like him. A chubby girl having her hair combed. A skinny man with glasses that magnified his eyes, weathered skin and constantly shaking.

Old people.

People who needed care.

And then at the end of the room, when they stopped walking, Chloë saw her dad.

She saw Alice.

Cassandra.

Dean.

Chatting to people.

Mixing with
other people
.

“What—what is this place?” Chloë asked, transfixed by the silence, by all these other people.

None of them hurting her.

Melissa stopped. She put a hand on Chloë’s back.

“Welcome to Snowdonia Care Home,” she said. “Your payment? You help us look after the weak.”