Dead Days: Season 3 (Books 13-18) (28 page)

Too glassy.

Chloë felt her bottom lip quiver. Felt her eyes welling up. Stepped back, because she didn’t want to see Jordanna like this anymore. She didn’t want to see her as a monster.

And then Jordanna’s eyes widened, and she let out a weird little laugh.

“Chloë‌—‌what‌—‌?”

The butterflies flapped around Chloë’s tummy. Jordanna was alive. She was well. She just had to get to her now. She just had to get past the handcuffed creatures, unlock her hands and then they could run away.

She pulled the handcuff keys from around her neck.

She was so close. So nearly there.

And that’s when she heard the shriek.

Then the “Holy fuck! What the fuck‌—‌that little bitch! Let’s‌—‌let’s get the fucker. Quick!”

Moustache Man’s voice.

As Chloë stood there, keys in hand, handcuffed creatures in between Jordanna and her, she knew this time that Moustache Man wasn’t joking around.

Chapter Ten: Riley

Riley’s heart thumped fast as he sat motionless on the powered wheelchair. To his left, the men who were driving the three army vehicles approached with torches.

And to his right, the familiar smell, the familiar shuffling sounds, of the creatures.

He fumbled around with the knob to the wheelchair, but to no avail. He looked ahead at the nearest army vehicle. It wasn’t far away. A matter of metres. But then his legs‌—‌the stinging in his legs, and the throbbing in his mind. Did he have it inside him to make it a matter of metres? He tried to move his right leg. Tried to swing it over the side of the powered wheelchair.

The agony that rippled through his body gave him his answer.

He held his breath. Tried his best not to scream with the pain. He could hear the creatures getting closer, slushing their way through the field. Being bitten wasn’t all that bad, not really. It was kind of an anticlimax, in fact. The act of the bite itself was no worse than any accident you could do around the house‌—‌fall off a ladder, pass out and hit your head on the toilet bowl.

But it was what the bites were doing inside him that worried him.

At least if the creatures got him now, he wouldn’t have to worry.

“Quick, Riley!”

The voice came from behind. He didn’t have a chance to look, but he recognised it as Alan’s. He could see the lights to his left getting closer. Smell the rotting of the creatures, overpowering and unavoidable. He couldn’t go back to Alan now. He couldn’t go back to the bunker. He didn’t have it in him‌—‌the time or the energy. All he could do was push on. Push on to the army vehicle, or all his efforts would be for nothing.

Come on, Riley. Deep breaths. You can do this.

He tried once again to lift his right leg over the side of the powered vehicle. Once again, he had to stop himself from screaming as a searing burn spread all over his leg, up into his hip. That couldn’t be good. That must be what the spreading felt like.

But he bit into his lip. Bit into his lip until he tasted blood, and lowered his right leg onto the ground.

And then he took another few steadying breaths. The creatures, they were so close now. So close that he could make out their individual features. A bald man with narrow cheekbones and deep-set eyes, intestines hanging out of his front. Dark haired teenage girl looking all glassy-eyed as she walked around with half a face.

He wasn’t going to become one of them.

Not yet, anyway.

He bit into his lip again, bit through the agony, and brought his left leg down onto the muddy grass below. He tasted salt on his lips from inadvertent tears, but he was there. He had both legs on the ground.

Now he just had to move.

The torchlights were getting closer. The voices, the laughter, of the men, so close.

He stared at the ground in front of him. Realised that he was going to have to push himself face first onto the ground then drag himself to that vehicle if he wanted to stand a chance of surviving. A chance of laying low, at least for now.

Come on, Riley. You’re dead anyway. Nothing a little more pain can do to hurt you.

He pressed his hands against the metal side of the powered wheelchair. Pressed his hands against it, then with all the strength he had in his arms, he pushed himself to the ground.

Falling to the ground without the support of his legs was like bungee jumping off a high cliff. And yes, he’d bungee jumped once in Turkey. Pissed himself on the fall. Never again.

He hit the muddy grass with a thump and a splat. Felt that buzzing sensation in his nose, felt the damp of the smelly, once manure-covered mud all over his face. He must’ve bust his nose. A bust nose to join his knocked-out teeth, his leg bites.

Wow. To think he’d once taken pride in his appearance.

He started to edge himself along the ground, getting gradually closer to the first army vehicle. The back of the vehicle was open, but shit‌—‌he hadn’t even considered how he was going to climb it. That’s a weird effect survival had‌—‌it made you think short term. Very short term.

And dragging himself through the mud, the lights getting nearer, the sounds of the creatures’ footsteps slushing closer, he figured he’d made one of the stupidest short term decisions imaginable.

But he was close. He was getting close. Picking up pace as he moved. He was so cold, but sweat was dripping down his forehead and into his eyes. The taste of the shitty mud was so strong in his mouth. But he didn’t care. He’d lost his dignity long ago. Dignity counted for shit in the Dead Days.

Dignity got you chewed on.

He reached a hand out for the army vehicle. Just another push. His fingertips were almost touching. He was so close.

One more push.

One more.

And then he felt it.

Felt the ends of his fingernails scratch against the rusting green paint on the side of the vehicle. He felt it, and he knew he was almost there.

But he felt something else too. Something that was getting all too familiar.

Something pressed down on his right leg. Something thick, too thick to be teeth, but shit‌—‌it stung like mad. Forced a scream out of him that he could do nothing about.

He looked back. Looked back to see what it was.

A creature.

No. Two creatures.

One of them was holding Riley’s right leg with its grey-skinned hands. Digging its filthy, maggot-filled fingernails into the wound on his leg.

And the other creature, a bald man, was lowering itself down. Readying itself for a bite.

One bite would kill him.

Two would definitely kill him.

Three was beyond belief.

He shook his leg away, but this only hurt him more. Only sent the creature’s fingers further into his wound. He whimpered. Tasted more salty tears in his mouth. He could be dead already. He could’ve opted out. Alan should’ve fucking finished him. He didn’t want to die, not like this, not out of his‌—‌

And then he heard a blast and felt coldness splatter over his leg.

The hand of the creature went loose. Riley didn’t understand what was happening at first. He didn’t understand what was happening until the bald creature’s head exploded, and it went flying back.

“Let’s ‘ave em, lads!”

The voice came from the right. Torchlights shone over the mass of creatures. They were still all heading towards Riley but being shot down, one by one.

Riley yanked himself further forward. He didn’t have time to get inside the army vehicle. Only time to get underneath it.

He had to get underneath it and hope they didn’t see him. Hope the creatures, the army or whoever they were, didn’t see him.

As bullets flew over his head, whistled through the air, splattered into the mass of creatures, Riley managed to pull himself underneath the army vehicle. He watched the shots fly from underneath. Watched the creatures fall to the ground, one by one, as the torchlights got nearer. In the distance, just across at the bunker, he looked for Alan, but he was out of sight.

He’d think Riley was dead. He’d think the plan had gone to shit.

Riley waited. Watched and waited from underneath the army vehicle. The damp from the muddy ground seeped through his clothes. The smell of rotting was countered by the smoky smell of gunfire. Footsteps from the people with torches filled the scene, and he was like an extra hiding behind a curtain as this whole drama unfolded.

He watched as the last of the creatures fell. Watched as a man all in black crouched down over it and sunk a knife into the side of its head.

He held his breath. These people, mostly men, they were all dressed in black. They had a lot of weapons, but they didn’t look army. Not the army that Riley knew of, anyway.

“That the lot of ‘em?” one of them said with a thick Lancashire accent.

One of the people walked past the front of the vehicle where Riley was hiding. His feet squelched in the mud. He prayed he wouldn’t see him. Prayed he wouldn’t crouch down and look underneath.

Riley just lay there and held his breath. Lay there and winced through the pain. If they saw him in the mud, bitten like he was, they’d think he was one of them. They’d shoot him. It would be game over, even though it was game over already.

The person beside the army vehicle stepped away, his dark black shoes soiled from the mucky ground.

“All but one.”

The voice came from behind Riley. From the other side of the army vehicle.

But Riley didn’t have much time to think about it because he felt pulling against his leg, felt himself being dragged across the ground, felt the mud caking all over his face.

“Sort him out, then,” a deep voice said.

Before he could open his mouth to protest, he felt a loud thump crack across the back of his head.

And then buzzing ears…‌brightness filling up in his eyes…‌And Anna. Anna and him on the narrowboat swaying in the sea. Anna and him chatting, smiling, laughing.

And then nothing.

Chapter Eleven: Chloë

Chloë listened to the sounds of the shouting from the main warehouse area, listened to the sounds of Moustache Man’s loud voice shouting things at Snarly Shelley. She listened, and she stared into the smelly room, stared at Jordanna right in the darkness, behind the locked up creatures.

She knew she had to hurry. She knew she had to get away. She had to get away, or Moustache Man and Shelley would hurt her for what she’d done to Ursula. They’d put her with the monsters like they had with blue-haired lady.

They’d put her through so much pain.

But she couldn’t leave Jordanna behind.

She took in a shaky breath and entered the grim, cold room.

“Go, Chloë!” Jordanna shouted, shaking on her cuffs. “Kid‌—‌you need to fucking get out of here.”

And Chloë knew Jordanna was probably right, but it was too late to change her mind now anyway. She was halfway inside the dark room. Monsters, people who’d been locked up and bitten by the monsters earlier, snarled at her, snapped their teeth near to her feet.

But she just took some deep breaths of the horrible, sick-tasting air and imagined she was just walking along a narrow bridge. Like she’d been scared to do at Center Parcs that time when Dad had taken them all on that nice adventure holiday. She’d been too scared to do anything at first, but when she walked along that narrow, shaky wooden bridge, high above the trees below, she wasn’t scared anymore.

She could do anything.

She listened to the sounds of the footsteps rattling and echoing against the stairs inside. She got closer and closer to Jordanna. She hoped that Moustache Man and Shelley would run somewhere else looking for her. They wouldn’t think she’d be in here. That gave her some time.

She crouched down when she reached Jordanna, who stared at Chloë with wide eyes, looking over at the door every few seconds.

“It’s…‌it’s one of these keys,” Chloë said, as she pulled the chain from her neck and stared at the mass of small keys attached. There looked like so many keys now that she had to use them. So many of them to be the wrong key. So many to slow her down.

“Chloë, sweetheart, you should go,” Jordanna said, slowly. “You still have‌—‌you still have time to get away. You don’t want them to catch you. Not if what they shouted is true. About…‌about Ursula. Is it…‌did you…‌?”

Chloë tried her best to ignore Jordanna, tried her best to ignore the snapping teeth of the monsters to her right, the smell of dead things making her want to sick up what little stuff was in her tummy. She grabbed the first key on the right. Might as well start somewhere.

She reached behind Jordanna’s back and stuck the key inside the cuffs.

Tried to turn.

Nothing.

She yanked the key away. Heard a door swing open. Heard footsteps get heavier on the stones of the gravel outside.

“Little bitch can’t have gone far,” Moustache Man said. “You get the left, I’ll get this side.”

Chloë felt tingles in the bottom of her belly but she had to stay calm. She noticed her mum’s necklace as she moved on to the second key, and then onto the third and the fourth. Her mum’s necklace that was for Christmas. Christmas, tomorrow.

Come on, Mum. Help me here. Please help me.

She got to the sixth or the seventh key, the footsteps outside getting heavier, the cursing of Snarly Shelley so close.

Still, the keys weren’t working.

Her stomach leapt. Maybe she’d got the wrong set of keys. Maybe these keys weren’t the ones for the handcuffs.

She should go. Get out of here. Run away while she could.

She tried the eighth key. She was getting so close to the end of the keys now. One of them had to work. One of them had to…‌

The key turned to the side.

The cuffs came loose.

Jordanna was free.

Chloë and Jordanna spent a moment looking at one another, staring at each other in disbelief. Chloë saw then that Jordanna could be quite pretty if she just had a wash, even though she did have a scar above her top lip.

“Oh ‘ere she is. The little murdering fuck herself.”

The voice came from the doorway.

Chloë turned around.