Dead Days: Season 3 (Books 13-18) (12 page)

Or dead air, anyway. Either was fine compared to the musty dampness down here.

“I still can’t believe a government could be so disorganised as to have no real communication methods. And you expect me to believe you’re capable of creating a cure, or something?”

“Government
fragments
,” Alan corrected Riley, as the end of the lights got nearer and nearer. “The brains of government. But even the brain alone needs organs to function properly. Communications, internet, things like that‌—‌they’re down. Down for everyone. Maybe we’ll get them up and running again in time, but…‌Well, gotta ask what’s for the best, really.”

Riley frowned. “For the best? Surely communication is for the best.”

“Maybe in the old world. But right now, I’m starting to see how en masse communication might do more damage than good.”

“I’m not sure I see your point.”

Alan sighed. Shuffled around in his wheelchair some more, the wheels rattling against the metal floor. “Open up the internet and you create an illusion of order again. An opportunity for views to be expressed, for control freaks to spread promises of safety and saviour all to boost their own egos. And that’s when people start splitting into groups. Fighting more. Because you honesty believe anyone will trust a singular government again after this? If you do, you’re deluded.”

Riley’s face went warm. “Not necessarily
trust
a singular government. But the internet, communications‌—‌they could help. Help bring people together to‌—‌to safe places. Like this Living Zone.”

Alan shrugged. “Invite the world and you open the door to conflict. Let the world arrive at your doorstep,
then
you can decide whether you want to invite them in for tea and biscuits.”

Riley couldn’t help himself letting out a baffled laugh. He shook his head, unable to wrap his head around some of the craziness he was hearing from a supposed government man.

“What?” Alan said. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Riley shook his head. “Still just getting my head around the fact there’s a fucking huge tunnel system buried underground that nobody knew about.”

Alan turned in his wheelchair. Smiled that smug little grin at Riley. “You haven’t even glimpsed what hides under the iceberg yet, Riley. Haven’t even glimpsed it.”

He turned back around, and Riley continued to push him in silence.

It didn’t take long for the pair to reach the final four lights on the ceiling above.

“Lancaster’s in sight!” Alan said, chirpiness in his voice.

Riley stared ahead into the darkness. Caught a whiff of something new amidst the damp‌—‌a burning smell. The smell of smoke long gone. “Give me a heads up when I’m okay to chop your fingers off,” Riley said.

Alan shook his head. “Nonsense. There’ll be someone in. Bunker 749 is solidly secure. Besides, I’m here, aren’t I?” He waved his fingers at Riley. “You’ve done well getting me this far.”

“Deserve a medal for it,” Riley muttered under his breath.

They moved past the next light, then the next, and all of a sudden there was only one light left, one light between them and darkness.

“If you’re lucky, there might be a birthday cake waiting for you inside,” Alan said.

Riley squinted. Listened to the absolute silence, but for a slight pitter patter of water. He breathed in the cold, damp air. “Please don’t tell me this is all one big birthday prank and I’m going to open the door to my living room, where Derren Brown’s waiting, or something.”

Alan chuckled at this. “Well, you are called Riley. Wasn’t that the surname of the guy in Shaun of the Dead?”

Riley hadn’t even thought about that before, but Alan had a point. “Riley was the ginger one right‌—‌?”

Something stopped Riley right in his tracks. The wheelchair handles smacked into his stomach, winding him, almost making him tumble to the floor. Something had blocked the way. Something was in the way, and he hadn’t seen it. Either that or Alan had put a foot down. Alan had‌—‌

“Back, Riley. Back!”

Alan’s voice. Riley looked into the darkness. He didn’t understand. What was Alan talking about? They’d come all this way. They couldn’t go back. They…‌

And then he saw it.

Saw it on the ground just ahead of Alan’s wheelchair. Blood dripping down its chin, a chunk missing from its arm.

“Get the hell back, Riley!”

Then Riley noticed it wasn’t just an
it
. There were others.

Others, emerging from the darkness ahead, all on foot.

Others, blood down their faces, pieces of flesh dangling from various parts of their bodies, all looking directly at Riley, directly at Alan.

Others, all so…‌all so silent. So quiet.

“Riley, get the hell back!”

Riley’s heart pounded. His stomach turned with sickness.

There were at least a hundred of them, all blocking the way to Lancaster.

All blocking the route through the tunnel.

And now, all heading in Riley and Alan’s direction.

Happy fucking birthday, Riley. Many happy returns.

Chapter Seven: Pedro

Pedro crouched down on the hard, cold concrete. His head was still aching from his collision with the ground, and he could taste blood in his mouth, which was always fucking horrible. He listened to the complete silence coming from the motorway, now that they were sitting down at a junction just off it. Gave him the creeps, it did. Preferred the old groans and wails of the goons. At least they were obvious that way.

His legs ached. So too did his back‌—‌but hell, so
always
did his back when he’d been walking too long. He smelled, too. Smelled like his army gear used to smell when he pulled it off him after a searing hot day in Afghan. Rank.

But he didn’t feel bad. Not really. Because Barry, Tamara and Josh were crouched opposite him.

Tamara had an arm around Josh’s back. Josh was tapping a stick against the road, dumb contention in his face as he scraped it against the ground. Pedro wished he was a kid again for a moment, but then again these days couldn’t be easy for kids, no way. Not all this death, all this loss. Couldn’t do anyone any good.

Barry sat on his own opposite Pedro. He was looking at him, scratching at his bald head, half-smiling. Shit‌—‌even Barry looked kind of happy to be reunited with Pedro.

But there was sadness about the vibe, too. Quietness and stillness. Because yeah, Tamara had saved Pedro from the grasp of the half-bodied zombie underneath the car. But they’d also lost, too. Chris. He figured that loss was hurting the others.

“Maybe we should go out there and…‌and find his body,” Pedro muttered, thinking aloud more than anything. “See if he’s‌—‌if he hasn’t turned yet.”

Tamara sighed. Josh kept on tapping at the road with his stick, yawning, clearly tiring and in need of another distraction.

Barry cleared his throat. “No, we…‌we saw him. He‌—‌It was already too late. Happened very quickly.”

Pedro’s stomach sank. So Chris was a goon after all. All that life, all that optimism about getting to Manchester, and he’d lost his chance in a split second of madness. “It’s utter crap. Utter crap, this world.”

Barry rubbed his ungloved hands together, which looked red and hard. “That I can agree with.”

Agreement. More progress. Maybe Barry wasn’t so bad a guy after all. First impressions and all that. Pedro knew people had got him wrong in the past‌—‌the gung-ho army guy who follows orders. But those people knew nothing. They didn’t know a thing about him, not really.

“I miss Chris,” Josh said. His voice was quiet, sad.

Tamara sighed some more. Tightened her grip around her son’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Josh. It’s–”

“It’s‌—‌it’s not okay,” Josh said. His bottom lip quivered. “Chris was nice. And…‌and all the bad stuff is happening to the nice people. Why does the bad stuff have to happen to the nice people?”

“Hey,” Pedro said. He wasn’t sure what he was doing or what he was going to say, but he lifted himself to his feet and approached Josh. “We’re good people, aren’t we? Nice people? And we’re still here.”

Josh looked at Pedro, and all Pedro saw looking back at him was Sam. Strange, really. They didn’t even look much alike, not now he’d got to know the kid.

But the feeling he gave him. This weird feeling of wanting to protect him, look out for him. That was there. That’s what reminded him.

He didn’t want to let another kid down. Not after Sam. Not Claudia’s kids, or Little Thomas at the caravan park.

Not after Afghan.

He shuddered, knocked the thought out of his mind.

He held a fist out to Josh, like gangsters did.

“We’re gonna be alright, us,” Pedro said. “Hell, you’ve been bitten, bruv‌—‌you’re tougher than the lot of us!”

Josh smiled at this and examined Pedro’s fist.

“Go on,” Pedro said. “Bust me.”

Josh’s cheeks went red. He turned his nose up. “I’m not doing that. That’s silly.”

Pedro scuffled Josh’s curly brown hair and laughed. He heard Tamara laughing a little, too. Caught her smiling. Even Barry had a flat smile on his face.

He stepped away. Stepped away and scratched at his arms. He knew they couldn’t stay on this junction forever. They had to make a decision. A choice of where to go.

He looked out over the motorway. Stared over at the mass of cars, empty, doors open.

“We’ve got a decision to make, gang,” Pedro said, regretting the joviality of his tone right away. Shit. How
did
leaders speak? And what made him think he was leader all of a sudden? Oh well. Someone was going to have to do the dirty, and it looked like him.

He turned and faced the others. Tamara looked back at him, doe-eyed, her blonde hair in need of a wash. Josh looked at him too, smile on his cute face now. Even Barry watched, scratching at his measly beard and bobbing his head up and down.

“And it’s a decision we need to make together. All four of us. ‘Cause that’s how it’s gotta be from now, you hear?”

The three of them nodded. Pedro was slightly gutted they did because he still had no idea where he was going with his crazy little speech.

“We…‌We were heading to Manchester. Heading to this‌—‌to this Living Zone. Heading there so we can get there to safety, and so we can get Superman Josh to save the world.”

He winked at Josh. Josh stuck his skinny arm out and pointed at the sky, the bandage underneath poking out, a reminder of what he was‌—‌how special he was.

“And…‌And we know the motorway is dangerous. We know about the threats because of‌—‌because of the zombies we saw all on the motorway. Big group of them, kinda group we don’t want to be dealing with again.”

Barry lowered his head. Pedro could see something in his wandering eyes. Something that Pedro had felt himself time and time again‌—‌guilt. He felt guilty for making the call to go on the motorway. If he hadn’t, Chris might not have died. That’s the way Barry would be looking at things, Pedro just knew it.

“But it’s also the most-direct route,” Pedro said, raising his voice. “It’ll get us to Manchester quickest. And the truth is I…‌I still believe it’s the safest route. There’s cars, vans, shelter all the way down. And sure, there’s danger, but where isn’t there danger these days?” He paused for a second. Caught his breath. “I…‌I think we made the right call going the motorway route. And I think we should stick to it.”

Barry lifted his head again. Lifted his head and looked Pedro directly in his eyes. The guilt was gone, replaced by wide-eyed amazement.

Pedro nodded at him, only subtly, but it was enough because Barry nodded back.

A thank-you.

Or as close as Pedro was going to get from Barry, anyway.

Pedro scratched at his tingling neck. He was getting agitated with this public speaking malarkey. Time to wrap it up. “So…‌But it’s not just me. Not just me who makes the call. So I need to know what you all think. We all need to know what each other thinks, even if it means tearing our own necks out.”

Josh giggled at this. Not the intended effect, but Pedro figured a kid’s humour might be a bit creepy in a whacked-out, zombie-laden world.

“So who’s with me?” Pedro asked, feeling even more hot-faced, even more ridiculous.

For a moment, nobody budged. Everyone just stared at Pedro.

And then Barry cleared his throat and rose to his feet.

He nodded at Pedro. Scratched at his big round belly underneath his black winter coat. “With you,” he said.

And then Tamara rose. Tamara rose, holding her son’s hand. She smiled at Pedro, a smile that made him feel weirdly gooey inside.

“Count us in, too,” she said.

Pedro smiled back at her. Then he turned his attention to Josh, who was still tugging at his mum’s hand, holding his ground.

“What about you, soldier?” Pedro asked. “Ready to take on some more goons?”

Josh squinted. Tapped a finger against his lip.

And then he broke out in a smile and jumped to his feet. “I’m in!”

Pedro laughed. Tamara tutted, shook her head. Barry kept his eyes on Pedro, still amazed, but now free of guilt.

“Okay,” Pedro said, looking around at the three of them, then looking down the junction and towards the blocked-up depths of the motorway. “On your marks, get set…‌let’s go.”

Chapter Eight: Chloë

When Chloë came around, she thought at first that she was back at home in bed.

She could feel the soft blanket covering her. It was so warm. So warm, especially when she’d been so cold lately. She wondered whether Mum was here with her. Whether she was going to wake her up and take her somewhere nice like the Deepdale Retail Park for the day. Her and her sister could look at all the nice clothes in Next and Outfit.

Or she wondered if Dad was off work. If he was home. If he’d take them out to watch the football with him. She didn’t really understand the football, but she enjoyed watching all the people in the crowd celebrating and going crazy. It was always funny.

She opened her eyes. It wasn’t bright, not like she’d expected it to be, even though there was a little light in her head. She sniffed up. Sniffed up and smelled…‌No. It smelled bad. Like a bad toilet. Had she been ill? Had Elizabeth been ill? Smelly Lizzy, she’d call her at school. That would make her more popular than her sister, finally.