Chloe Zombie Apocalypse series (Book 2): The Journey (7 page)

C
hloë did
everything she could to claw her way out of Dan’s solid grip as Dave continued to scream.

She rolled to the left. Lashed out, tried to get a hold of his head. Behind, in the thick trees, she could hear panic. Footsteps running away. People shouting. Someone calling her name.

But all that Chloë could focus on was Dan.

Dan’s bleached white teeth snapping at her face.

And Dave, his boyfriend, standing behind him, descending towards Chloë’s ankles while continuing to scream.

Scream like a human.

A human in pain.

Even though he was everything but human now.

Chloë reached for her knife with a trembling hand. She kicked up at Dan’s monster. Kicked him right in his chest. In between his legs. Everywhere to keep his teeth away from her skin.

She fumbled around in the boggy ground for her knife. No sign of it. No—

Then she saw it.

Saw it, just inches away.

Someone standing over it.

Jackson.

Jackson picked the knife up. Looked at Chloë. And in the flicker of a moment, Chloë saw the way he pulled back slightly. Saw the way he hesitated.

“Jackson!” she shouted. “Please—please help—”

Jackson turned to Dave’s monster.

Pulled the knife back as Dave hurtled towards him, almost slipping on his intestines.

Screaming.

And then Jackson buried the knife into Dave’s temple with one swift swing.

Chloë kept on struggling with Dan. Pressed her forearm against his bloody neck. Felt warm blood dripping onto her body as Dan gasped and growled, the colour draining from his skin, completely unrecognisable from the man she knew, the man she was friends with.

Behind, in the woods, Chloë heard more screams. She heard her dad shout out for her.

And then she heard gunfire.

Jackson flinched. Turned around. He still had the knife in his hand. He still wasn’t helping Chloë.

“Throw me the knife!”

Jackson stared into space.

“Jackson! Throw me the—”

Dan slipped out of Chloë’s grip.

His snapping jaw closed in on her shoulder.

Chloë clenched her eyes shut.

Rolled over to the left as quickly as she could.

Dan’s teeth pummelled into the mud.

Chloë yanked herself away. Stood above him, his face in the dirt.

And then she pulled back her foot and kicked him in the side of the head.

Hard.

She kicked him again. Again and again and again until he was bleeding right down his face from his cracked nose.

And then she reached for a log. Lifted it. Readied to swing it at Dan’s head.

She saw the look in his eyes. Just for a moment. A look of fear. A look of the old Dan.

She saw it, and she felt her body turning cold. She saw what she was doing as if she was outside her body. As if she was watching herself.

Watching herself kill Dan.

Watching herself lose another group member.

And then something pushed into her back and she fell face flat in the dirt.

Dan didn’t waste a moment grabbing her hair. He yanked it so hard that Chloë felt some strands of it tear away. She fumbled for the log. Heard gunshots again. Gunshots, footsteps.

She heard her dad shouting out for her.

But he seemed further away.

Much further away.

Chloë turned around. Her eyes were filled with damp mud. She looked Dan in his blue eyes. Looked at the tears of blood rolling down his pale cheeks. Looked at the pieces of flesh squeezing out of his bitten neck like toothpaste from a tube.

She looked at his snapping teeth and waited for him to move towards her. Waited for him to take another bite.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Dan opened his mouth.

Hurtled towards Chloë’s face.

Chloë grabbed the log.

Held it up.

Pressed it into Dan’s open mouth.

Pushed.

She heard Dan’s teeth cracking against the log. Saw bits of wood splitting away as he tried to bite down.

But she just kept on pressing.

Kept on pushing it through his torn mouth.

Stuffing it right into the back of his throat.

And Dan didn’t even try struggling free. He was too focused on reaching Chloë. Too focused on biting through the wood and getting to his prey.

The log ripped open Dan’s cheeks. Sent blood tumbling over Chloë. She felt the back of his throat splitting. Felt it tearing under the force, under the pressure.

She held her breath.

She had to stay calm.

She had to stay focused.

She looked to her right. Saw Dan edging nearer to the ground.

She looked back up at Dan.

Looked him in his eyes.

“Time to go now, Dan.”

And then she let go of the wood.

Shifted away.

Dan tried to turn and see what Chloë was doing.

But he was already too late.

He fell onto the ground.

The wood split through the back of his neck.

Cracked his teeth.

Impaled him in the mud.

Chloë stepped away. Wiped the blood from her forehead. She looked at Dan, lying there in the mud, still trying the shake free of the wood. And she felt sympathy for him. She felt sadness.

By his side, Dave’s body lay.

Two people who’d loved each other.

Two people who’d been good to Chloë. Who respected her.

Two more losses.

She heard the scream.

She turned around. Looked through the thick trees. This scream wasn’t like the one before. Not the one the monsters made—fuck, the monsters made those screams.

No. This one was a man’s scream. A man’s cry.

A man who sounded like Dad.

Her heart raced.

She had to get back.

She had to find Dad.

She had to—

Dan’s monster dragged itself upright. The log dangled down from the hole in the back of its throat.

Chloë looked around. Looked for something—anything—she could use as a weapon.

The scream. The man’s scream again, somewhere in the distance.

She looked back at Dan.

Then she did the only thing she could right now.

She turned around and she ran.

She sprinted through the trees. Branches slashed her skin. She heard Dan’s footsteps getting closer. Heard him panting as he raced her through the woods. He was quick. Quicker than the usual slow ones they came across.

He was quick,
and
he could scream.

What were these monsters?

What were these…

Up ahead, two more monsters emerged.

A woman with long, blonde hair, all matted and tufted. She was naked. Her left breast had been devoured.

And a man. Also naked. His leg had been chewed so much that Chloë could see the bones, which flies swarmed around.

She looked at them.

Looked back at Dan, who kept on hurtling towards her.

And again, she ran.

She listened to the footsteps of the three monsters hurtling towards her. She’d heard the scream around here somewhere. Unless… No. No, that scream couldn’t have been these monsters. Monsters didn’t scream like that. They
couldn’t
scream like that.

But then she thought of some of the other monsters she’d seen since the world went bad. She thought of some of the stories she’d overheard. Stories of the monsters changing. “Adapting,” as Riley, a guy from her old group, used to put it.

She kept on running through the trees, which didn’t get any thinner.

The monsters kept on getting closer.

She wanted Mum.

She wanted Elizabeth.

She wanted her entire family.

She wanted—

Gunshots cracked through the trees to her left.

Three shots.

And then silence.

Chloë’s heart pounded. She turned around. Squinted back at the oncoming monsters.

They were all on the ground.

Blood rolling out of the heads of each.

Standing by their side, the dark-haired man called Colin.

He looked at Chloë. Nodded, his smile slanted.

Chloë nodded back at him. Her muscles went weak. She wanted to be still. To let the relief sink in.

And then she heard the scream again.

Her body tightened up.

It was right beyond Colin. Right behind him.

Chloë walked up to Colin. Stepped past him. Pushed aside the branches.

When she saw through the trees, a sour taste filled her mouth.

It was Cassandra. The woman who lost her baby while in the Church of Youth camp.

She was crouched beside her son, Reggie.

A hand on his shoulder.

Blood spurting out of a bite wound on his chest.

“It’s okay,” Cassandra said, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. Her ginger hair was tucked behind her ears. Her son just stared at his chest. Stared at the hole in his white t-shirt. He shook his head vigorously. “No. No. No. No.”

Chloë walked further into the middle of the scene. She saw Hassan. Anisha. She saw Jackson and Arnold. She saw her dad.

She walked up beside Reggie, a painful lump swelling in her throat. Her limbs felt so heavy. She just wanted to run. Run away. Get away from all of this. Get away from everything.

“Please,” Reggie cried, shaking his head, tucking it into his mother’s neck. “Please don’t let me turn. Please don’t let me turn.”

The sour taste built in Chloë’s mouth as she turned around. Walked over to Colin.

“The gun,” she whispered.

Colin lowered his head. “I—I just kept it cause—”

“Just give me the gun.”

Colin sighed. Shook his head.

Then he handed Chloë the gun.

Chloë turned back.

Walked over towards Reggie.

Every step was heavy. The lump in her throat morphed into a pain in her chest. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t lose another.

But she had to.

She couldn’t let Reggie suffer.

She couldn’t let him turn.

“Don’t let me go, Mum,” Reggie spluttered. “Please don’t let me turn.”

Cassandra looked up at Chloë. She sobbed uncontrollably, stroked the back of Reggie’s curly ginger hair. “It’s okay. We won’t let you turn. We won’t let you turn at all. My boy. My precious boy.”

Chloë felt nausea building inside as she stepped up to Reggie.

As the eyes of the group—the remaining ten—stared on at her.

“It’s okay, my boy,” Cassandra cried. She kissed her son’s head as he kept on crying. “It’s okay. Sweet boy. Sweet boy.”

She let go of his head.

Grabbed his hand.

Moved away.

Chloë didn’t want Reggie to open his eyes.

She didn’t want to give him a chance to understand what was about to happen.

So she held her breath.

Lifted the gun.

Fired.

The gunshot echoed through the woods. Cassandra’s cries filled the silence. Nobody spoke. Nobody said a word. There was nothing to say.

Chloë walked up to Reggie’s body. Looked down at him, eyes stinging.

She saw the bullet hole right in the middle of his forehead.

But more than anything—more than the blood, more than the bite mark on his chest—she saw his eyes.

His eyes were open.

Looking up at her.

He’d seen Chloë pulling the trigger after all.

He’d died
knowing
he was dying.

T
he remaining
ten group members didn’t utter another word until the fateful debate at the camp three hours later.

They decided to rest as soon as they left the woods. There was an old log cabin just on the outskirts. It was cloudy now, raining, so everyone agreed it would be best if they got some shelter. By “agreed”, what actually happened was the group just sort of stopped walking when they reached the cabin.

Nobody said a word.

The exhaustion was clear to see.

The loss was clear to see.

Chloë stared at the smoking fire in front of her. The smell of it made her feel sick. A heaviness built in her stomach. Memories of the day’s events played through her mind on a loop.

Dave turning into one of those screaming monsters.

Dan following shortly after.

And Reggie. Cassandra’s son. Bitten.

Chloë putting a bullet through his skull.

She swallowed. Her mouth was so dry. She wasn’t sure when she’d last had a sip of water. In all truth, she didn’t want any. The thought of eating or drinking anything made her feel ill.

She just wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear.

She just wanted to get to Pwllheli with the rest of the group and… well. See what happened from there.

She glanced up at Hassan. He turned away the moment Chloë made eye contact with him. And then she looked at Jackson. At Colin. All of them glared at her with wide eyes. Like it was her fault. Like it was her failure.

She looked over at Alice.

Alice didn’t look back at her.

She just stared at the glowing fire.

Watched the wood crackle.

Chloë’s mind swam with all kinds of thoughts. The monsters, for one. The screaming monsters. What were they? Were they just the monsters in the woods? Or would all the monsters end up like them now?

And then the gun. The gun that Colin shot the three chasing monsters with. Why did he have a gun? He told her he’d found it. Kept hold of it. But had he? Was that the truth? All the guns were supposed to have gone. Stolen.

Was he lying?

Above anything, Chloë thought of Jackson. And when she did, a tenseness built in her stomach.

First, he’d started acting nicer toward her. Started supporting her.

And then he’d tried to get her to sneak into the camp by the motorway bridge.

But weirdest of all, when Chloë was pinned down by Dan’s monster, he’d held her knife. Stood there, wide eyed, not doing a thing to help her.

She didn’t know why—he was probably just frozen, probably just scared—but that memory brought a shiver to her skin whenever she revisited it.

No. He’s okay. He was just scared. That’s all it was. Just scared.

“So what now?”

Anisha’s voice cut through the silence. It was strange, hearing someone else talk. It’d been a long time since anyone said a word in this group.

Dean—a muscular black guy who kept his head down and didn’t say much—snorted. “Guess we just sit around and wait to die.”

“Don’t be like that,” Dad said.

“Be like what?” Anisha cut in. Her eyes were cold, hard. “He’s right. The way we’re going, he’s fucking right.”

“We lost people back there,” Dad said. “We lost three of our own. It’s bad. It’s terrible. But it’s—”

“Don’t you dare say ‘it’s just what happens in this world’ one more fucking time.”

Dad’s mouth hung ajar. He closed his lips. Sniffed up. Shook his head. “I won’t. Because you’re right. We’re losing a lot of people.”

A heaviness built in Chloë’s chest. She turned to her dad. “What do you—”

“We could’ve approached that group,” Dean said. “The one by the motorway bridge.”

Chloë shook her head. “But they were the ones who—”

“We could’ve asked them what they were doing. Asked them whether they had room for some more. And if they didn’t comply, we coulda killed ‘em.”

Chloë’s chest tightened. “But—but Jackson told me they—”

“Hey,” Jackson said. He smiled. Lifted his hands. “I told you the truth. Those were the people I saw. I told you we should head down there. That we should take a look inside. And that as a kid, you’d be best fit to take a look around. To build a kind of unity, you get me?”

Silence followed Jackson’s words. Warmth crackled from the flames.

Jackson lowered his hands. “But you didn’t. So we went through the woods. Avoided that group. Just like you said. And now we’re down to ten.”

Chloë turned to her dad. She didn’t like turning to her dad for support. She didn’t like feeling as if he was bailing her out of her battles.

But right now she needed him.

Right now she needed someone.

“You’re so fucking obsessed with avoiding other people,” Anisha said, “I’m starting to wonder whether you
want
us dead after all.”

Chloë’s head spun. She felt too tired to think. Too guilty to speak.

But she shook her head. “No. No. I went through the woods because I wanted to keep us safe. I wanted to keep us—”

“Well, good job there,” Dean said. He stood up. Wiped his hands together. “You only went and got a bunch of us killed. Great job.”

Dean walked towards the cabin. Headed inside. Hassan and Anisha followed. Then Colin, then Arnold.

“Where are you—”

“Resting,” Dean said.

Chloë looked around at the remaining group. Cassandra. Alice. Jackson. Dad.

She saw Cassandra crying. Wanted to ask her how she was. If she was doing okay.

She wanted to apologise for Reggie.

Apologise for her son.

But then Cassandra stood too.

Followed the group into the cabin.

Then, with a sigh, Jackson followed.

Jackson, who’d held Chloë’s knife.

Who’d left her to die.

Why had he done that?

Just a mistake?

Just a mistake, or—

“They’re right, y’know.”

The voice startled Chloë. She wasn’t sure where it came from. Not initially.

Then she looked across the fire and saw it could only possibly come from one source.

Alice.

She was on her feet now. Looking right at Chloë. Frowning.

“Alice, please don’t—”

“You led us through those woods. We trusted you.”

“But Jackson said—”

“Fuck what Jackson said. You’re supposed to be the leader. You’re supposed to make the calls. The
right
calls. And by that, I mean the right calls for the rest of the group. Not just for yourself.”

“I always do stuff for other people.”

“Like hide the news of the transmission? Like—like insist on pushing past every single fucking person we encounter? No matter how harmless they look. Really? That’s for other people?”

Flashes of all the times she’d turned away from other people filled Chloë’s mind. Made a thickness swell in her throat.

She’d done it because she cared about the rest of the group.

Not because she was afraid of other people.

Right?

She’d done it because she cared.

Surely that’s why she’d done it.

Alice walked to the cabin. Climbed the steps. Pushed open the door.

She glanced at Chloë. Then she turned away. Lowered her head.

“You’ve lost us, Chloë. Pete. Both of you. You’ve lost us. Not the other way around. Remember that.”

She disappeared into the cabin.

The door slammed against the wooden frame.

Echoed through the woods as Chloë and Dad stared at the dying flames, silent.