Dead Days: Season 3 (Books 13-18) (29 page)

Snarly Shelley was standing at the door. She had a gun in her hand, much like the big gun she’d had when Chloë had seen her catch the deer in the woods the other night. She was pointing it right at Chloë.

“Lean back. Against the wall.”

Chloë looked at Jordanna. She had no choice.

“Quick, little bitch. Lean back next to that smelly bastard.”

Chloë lowered the keys out of sight. She forced herself to edge closer to the monster beside her. The monster that had once been a skinny man with thin, dark hair. He growled at her as Chloë got closer, loose flesh crumbling off his bloodied neck and hitting the floor.

Chloë pressed her back against the wall. She moved her hands around the back of this monster. Even though she was stuck, she had to try something. She had to try something or she’d die.

“Tell you ‘ow it’s gonna be from now on, princess,” Shelley said, snarling at Chloë as she got closer and closer. “We’re gonna keep you alive. Keep you alive as long as we can. But wer’ gonna ‘ave some fun with you. Now old psycho-mummy’s out of the way, we’re gonna ‘ave a lot of fun with you.” She stopped right beside Chloë. Leaned down, looked at her, breathed her stinky breath into Chloë’s face. “Can’t promise it’ll be fun fer you, though.”

Chloë turned the key.

The cuffs clicked open.

And before Shelley could think to drop the smug smile off her face, Chloë smacked her forehead right into her big nose.

Shelley tumbled back a little, which was when Chloë and Jordanna stood up.

Which was when the monster that’d been beside Chloë, cuffed to the wall, stood up too.

Chloë and Jordanna quickly got behind it. Quickly pressed their hands against its sticky back.

Then, as Shelley clutched her bleeding nose, they pushed it right into her.

Gunshots went off. Gunshots fired all around the room, but they didn’t hit Chloë. She just ran towards the door now. Ran towards the door, holding Jordanna’s hand.

She heard the screams from Snarly Shelley behind her, heard the sound of squelching, like meat being put through a mincer, but she didn’t look back. As much as she wanted to, she didn’t look back.

She just ran. Ran out of the door, holding Jordanna’s hand.

Ran across the stones outside, out into the night.

She heard a few shouts from Moustache Man when they were halfway up the road. Heard a few shots go off as they headed into the darkness, heard the shots fizz past them. Heard more screams.

But they just kept on running. Kept on running into the darkness of the tall trees. Kept on running up the road, further and further away from that horrible place, all the time holding one another’s hands.

Chloë didn’t look back. Not once.

She knew when the gunshots stopped and when the branches of the trees scratched against her face that she was safer now.

Not safe. Never safe.

Just safer.

Chapter Twelve: Pedro

Pedro stared at the bloody towel in Elaine’s arms. Listened to her cries. The ringing in his ears from the firing of the gun was getting gradually and gradually less pronounced, but his anger was getting stronger and stronger.

He turned back to Barry. Turned back to him, as he stood there holding the gun in his shaking hand, sweat dripping from his bald head.

“The
fuck
do you think you’re doing?” Pedro barked.

“I had to do it!” Barry pleaded, shouting back at Pedro. His eyes were shaky, and he didn’t seem to know what to do with the gun. “If‌—‌if I hadn’t, you know what would’ve happened. You know‌—‌”

A door clunked open. The door at the back of the green Mercedes van. Tamara came running out, frown on her forehead, gun in hand.

“What was that…‌?”

And then her eyes widened and her mouth opened and twitched when she saw Elaine cradling the bundle that was her Little John.

“What the fuck?” Tamara cried. Tears filled her eyes almost instantly. She looked at Pedro. Looked at Pedro, accusation spread across her face, the sounds of Elaine’s screaming and whimpering filling the dark night sky.

“Oh, shut her up,” Barry said.

That was enough for Pedro. He felt hot inside.

Fucking bastard was gonna pay for this.

He threw himself at Barry. Threw himself right into his flabby chest, got a whiff of his sweat as he hit him. Big bastard punched back with all he had, knocking the gun onto the back of Pedro’s head, punching and punching, but slowly crumbling to the ground.

“You didn’t have to fucking kill him,” Pedro shouted, as he sat on top of Barry, punching him in his face. “You‌—‌you fucking idiot. You didn’t have to‌—‌”

Barry spat a bloody batch of phlegm into Pedro’s face. Punched Pedro back, knocked him dizzy. “You know I had to. He was bitten. He had teeth. He was going to‌—‌”

“He’s a fucking kid!” Pedro shouted. He planted another punch into Barry’s face. His eye was bleeding at the corner, and his nose had swollen already. “You‌—‌you saying that’s how you’d have done it to Josh, hmm? Second he’d‌—‌second he’d passed out you’d just have put a bullet in his‌—‌”

“I did what I had to do!” Barry said. He opened his mouth when Pedro brought his fist down this time. Planted his teeth on the edge of Pedro’s knuckles, but the popping sensation underneath Pedro’s fist told him he’d knocked a few of them out in the process.

“You did what you
wanted
to do,” Pedro said. His face was on fire. He could see nothing but battering this fuck into the ground, making his head one with the pavement. The shouts and cries of Elaine were distant, muffled. He could hear Tamara trying to reassure her. Hear Josh asking what was happening.

But nothing else mattered. Nothing but Barry. Nothing but putting this cunt in his place.

He lifted his fist. Lifted it over Barry’s swollen face, got ready to bring it back down again, as much as it was stinging and bleeding.

“You just‌—‌just can’t face it, can you?” Barry said. The fucker was actually smiling, too. Drooling blood and smiling.

Pedro held his fist in the air. Held it there another few seconds. “Face what?”

Barry started to laugh. Laughed a throaty, bloody laugh. Man looked crazy, but then again maybe Pedro was the crazy one, hovering over him and beating him into a pulp.

“The guilt,” Barry said. “Don’t take me for an idiot, Pedro. I know a man who’s let a few kids down in their lives when I see them.”

Pedro wanted to punch him even more for this. He wanted to lift up the gun that had fallen from Barry’s fist and onto the pavement, and he wanted to press it right up against his skull and pull the trigger until his head was no more.

But the thought of his son, Sam. And then the thought of that kid in Afghanistan. The kid, the entire family, he’d taken his anger out on.

He’d let them down. Let too many children down. Too many fucking
people
down.

“That’s‌—‌that’s all this is about, isn’t it?” Barry said. His voice butted into Pedro’s thoughts, which was a bitch of a thing because it didn’t give Pedro a chance to collect himself. “All this ‘I’m your fucking leader’ shit. You just don’t want to let Josh down. See him as another chance to make up for your past bullshit, don’t you? That’s it, isn’t it? And don’t for a moment say it isn’t.”

Pedro’s arms were shaking. The fist that he had tensed was crumbling, crumbling with the shakes, crumbling with all the thoughts and accusations running through his body.

Barry started to laugh again. Laugh, as Elaine cried, as Tamara reassured her, as Josh stood in silent shock.

“Well good job,” Barry said. He lifted his fingers. Pointed at his face, which was bruised, swollen, covered in blood. “Good job protecting him. I’m sure you’ll live long in his little memory, you violent shit.”

Pedro pulled himself away from Barry. He wasn’t in control. He was moving on autopilot, face burning, arms tingling, everything muffled and out of focus.

He reached for his gun. Reached into his pocket, pulled it out, and pointed it at Barry’s head.

Barry just smiled some more. Smiled, and spat out a bloody tooth.

“That’s right,” he said. “Blow my brains out. Put another little image in Josh’s head. Pedro the Saviour, that’s who you are.” He spat onto the road again. “Well I’ve got news for you. You aren’t a saviour. You’re a fucking nutjob. Go on and prove that to everyone.”

Pedro squeezed the trigger. Imagined Barry’s brains on the road in front of him. Fucker. Fucker couldn’t say stuff like this. Fucker had to pay.

“You did this, bruv,” Pedro said. “You…‌you did this.”

He squeezed the trigger even tighter. Couldn’t stop himself, not now. His muscles were tense. His body was shaking.

He had to pull the trigger.

He had to release.

“Mummy, what’s‌—‌what’s that light?”

The voice was Josh’s. Pedro hadn’t noticed the content of many things said in the last however-long, but these words he did notice. He looked away from Barry. Kept the gun to his head, but looked away. Looked around at Josh.

Josh was pointing down the motorway. Pointing in the opposite direction to where Pedro was looking. Tamara was looking too. When she saw what it was, her mouth opened in amazement.

Pedro turned around. Turned to see what it was they were looking at.

He saw it and heard it at the same time.

There was a light. A light in the sky just up ahead, coming in their direction. A bright, circular light, pointing right at them.

And the sound, too. The sound he’d heard so often back in Afghan. The sound of combat. The sound of arriving back at base.

The sound of propellers getting nearer and nearer.

“It’s…‌” Barry grunted, pushing himself away from Pedro, which Pedro just allowed, every muscle in his body going slack.

“Is that…‌?” Tamara asked.

“A helicopter,” Pedro said, and he couldn’t help but feel joy inside. “It’s…‌it’s a helicopter.”

EPISODE SEVENTEEN

(FIFTH EPISODE OF SEASON THREE)

Prologue

“Over here! Over‌—‌over here!”

Pedro waved his hands at the oncoming helicopter, its bright white light piercing through the darkness. He knew he shouldn’t shout. Damn‌—‌all of them knew they shouldn’t shout.

But they couldn’t not shout. How could they not shout? A damned helicopter was coming their way. An actual live helicopter. When was the last time Pedro had seen one of those? When was the last time anyone had seen one of those?

The sound of the propellers spinning around was getting louder, and that was only a good sign. Meant that it was getting closer, closing in on them. And there was something weird about it being a helicopter coming in their direction and not, say, a car or van. For some reason, a helicopter gave off more of a vibe of authority about it. More of a vibe of trust.

He hoped to God he was right about that.

“It’s‌—‌it’s coming for us.” Tamara’s voice, part laughing, clearly excited. “Do you…‌do you think it could be‌—‌”

“It’s…‌it’s not Air Ambulance, I can tell you that,” Barry said. “But we won’t know who it is until it gets here.” Shit. Hard to believe Pedro had been pummelling his knuckles into Barry’s fat face just moments earlier. His hands were still stinging from the action, no doubt Barry’s mouth was still wrecking like mad, but somehow none of that mattered anymore. Somehow, all of that was forgotten.

Forgotten, with that bright light in the sky. Forgotten, with the rattling of the helicopter propeller, getting closer and closer and closer.

Pedro did hear a whimper, though. Elaine. Poor Elaine, who’d lost her little John to the goons. Or rather, to Barry’s trigger-happy finger. But even she wasn’t whimpering as much. Like she’d resigned to the fact that the world was in the shit, and the only thing she could do about it was come along with the least screwed-up people for the ride.

The least screwed-up because, of course, nobody was good
and
alive anymore.

“We…‌we need to shine a light up or something,” Barry said. “Let them know our position. Believe me, the trouble I’ve had finding people in Air Ambulance in the past. The‌—‌the torches in the bag. We need to‌—‌”

“Hurry up and get ‘em then,” Pedro barked. Couldn’t help himself, just couldn’t tear himself away from this oncoming helicopter. Hated the thought of it disappearing out of the sky. That’d be just their luck.

Barry didn’t protest, which was a start, anyway. He walked back around the green van, rustled around the bags, then came running back out with torches in hand. “We…‌we can shine the big red one. Or the blue one. And there’s even a little silver pocket one that‌—‌”

“Shine them all,” Pedro said.

Barry nodded. He really did look like a stuffed pumpkin, cheeks all puffy and blood dripping from his nose and his mouth. He passed Pedro a little blue plastic torch, handed others to Tamara, Josh‌—‌even Elaine.

And then they all clicked and shone their lights up into the night sky.

They waited. Stood and waited as the helicopter got nearer.

“We should try and SOS signal,” Barry said. “Let them know‌—‌”

“Five torchlights in the middle of a motorway,” Pedro said. “I think that’ll be a decent enough SOS to a passer-by, bruv.”

The helicopter was so close that Pedro could practically feel the cool air propelling down from it. But that wasn’t a good sign. It was coming overhead too fast, way too fast. It didn’t look like it was turning, either. Come on. It had to see them. It had to see the torches.

“Is‌—‌why’s it flying away, Mum?” Josh asked.

“It’s…‌” Tamara cleared her throat. “It isn’t flying away. Isn’t it?”

Pedro wanted to say no. He wanted to say that it’d be on the ground, ready to pick them up any minute now.

But the speed it was flying. It wasn’t stopping. The bastard pilot inside wasn’t stopping.

Pedro kept his light shining into the sky. Pointed it right at the cockpit of the helicopter. He could see someone in there, behind the glass window. Someone with a black helmet on, headphones over his head.

“Is…‌It can’t be frigging flying over,” Barry said. “Jesus, please no. Not now.”