Dead Days: Season 3 (Books 13-18) (32 page)

Jason cleared his throat. “It’s a safe route. Bypasses the main streets of the city. We’ll be there in two hours tops‌—‌”

“Two hours frigging tops,” Barry grumbled. He planted his face in his hands, quickly bringing them away when he realised how sore he was.

Two hours. Two hours was manageable. Now they’d eaten, Pedro was feeling pretty optimistic. “This route’s definitely safe? It’s just…‌” He looked over at Josh. No one had mentioned his bite to Jason or the other helicopter people yet. He wanted to wait until they were actually in the Living Zone. He wanted to wait and weigh this place up for himself, for them all.

“Don’t worry, Pedro,” Jason said. “We’ve got the safety of all of you as an absolute priority. I’ve personally run the route a number of times. The most trouble I’ve come into were four infected, but I dealt with those from a distance. If we stay wise, we’ll be fine. Trust me. You’re almost home.”

The last words sounded forced. Staged.

Pedro looked around the room. Looked at Tamara, at Josh, at Elaine. “What d’you reckon?”

Tamara shrugged. Squeezed Josh’s hand. “Well I…‌we might as well. I don’t see what other choice we have.”

Pedro looked at Elaine. Waited for an answer, but all he got was a distant, spaced-out nod.

“Barry?” he said.

Barry bit at his swollen lip. Shook his head from side to side. Mumbled curses under his breath.

“Go on then,” he said, rubbing his tubby belly. “Suppose I should probably get working that food off anyway.”

“Amen to that, bruv,” Pedro said.

Barry opened his mouth to snap back, but fast closed it again.

Good boy. He was learning.

Pedro held his arms out while Sammy, the cute brunette from the helicopter strapped him into some kind of heavy duty suit.

“Do they really not do these vests in a bigger size?” Barry asked. Dom, the long, grey-haired guy also from the helicopter, was trying to clip Barry’s black vest, but he couldn’t wrap it around his belly properly.

“All them bangers you ate,” Pedro muttered, as Sammy patted his chest to check how padded it was.

Barry tutted. Rolled his swollen eyes. “Hey, you were the one scoffing all the sausages. I didn’t even‌—‌”

“Alright, alright, bruv. Save your energy.”

“Are these things even bite-proof?” Tamara asked. She was standing to Pedro’s left. She ran her hands down her front of the riot gear type uniform, noting all the gaps where the vest ended and her normal white shirt began‌—‌little spots where teeth could easily slip through.

“No,” Sammy said. “But they’re the best we got.”

Pedro stretched himself out. Damn, it was like gearing up to go out on an army mission again, or a training course. Yeah, more like a training course. Too frigging freezing to be anything like Afghan. He looked around the tent. They were in a little front area now, and he could feel a cold breeze drifting in through a zipped “door” just up ahead. The tent itself was weird‌—‌huge, like a market stall, with all sorts of food, drinks, even weapons lining tables around this section of the tent, different sections branching off at the sides. But these supplies. He dreaded to think what might happen should all this crap get into the wrong hands.

But then again, were there really any right hands anymore?

He walked over to Josh. Patted him on top of his old-fashioned army helmet. Looked like a WW2 piece, something like that. Flimsy as shit against bullets, but decent enough for blocking chipped teeth, he figured.

“How you doing, soldier? Ready for action?”

Josh looked up at Pedro. The top half of his face was covered by the helmet. He lifted a little hand to his head and saluted. “Sir, yes sir!”

Tamara tutted and smiled, patting her son on his shoulder. “You can’t go walking around with that helmet in your eyes. How’ll you see the zombies?”

Josh jumped ahead, held up his fists like a martial arts master. “I’ll
smell
them! I’ll smell them with my super-smell powers and‌—‌and then I’ll
chop
them!” He brought his unbitten arm through the air and made a whooshing sound.

“Someone’s livened up,” Pedro said to Tamara.

Tamara was quiet for a few seconds. Then she looked at Pedro with those nut-coloured eyes of hers. “You…‌you noticed him too then?”

Pedro scratched the back of his neck. “Well I mean the kid…‌He’s seen a lot. He’s‌—‌”

“He’s sick,” Tamara said, her voice shaky. “He’s…‌He should’ve been sick weeks ago, when the…‌” She lowered her voice. “When
it
happened. I just…‌I just worry it’s all been delayed. That maybe‌—‌maybe some people just take longer to turn than others. I mean it’s possible, right? With all the people in the world, there must be…‌there must be some like him.”

Tamara looked to the floor. Her eyes were filling up.

Pedro wanted to place a hand on her shoulder. Wanted to tell her everything was gonna be okay. But shit‌—‌he couldn’t lie. He was bullshit at lying. Corrine always used to tell him he couldn’t lie if he were harbouring Anne Frank. That it was a good job she wasn’t in his attic, or there never would’ve been a bestselling diary. Or it’d have ended at page one.

“We don’t know a lot at all,” Pedro said, struggling for the words. Josh jumped around, whooshing his hands through the air, sniffing up every few seconds. Over by the tent “door,” which was more like a curtain, Jason stood tightening his black armour. “About‌—‌about the virus. Or the infection. Or whatever. We don’t know. But think about it‌—‌we’ve been out in the freezing cold. Even I’m getting a bit of the sniffles.”

Tamara gulped. Her watery eyes met Pedro’s again, and he felt that weird connection‌—‌that same connection he’d felt last night when he’d confessed to her what happened in Afghanistan. That moment that felt forever ago, so much had happened since.

“You really think it’s just a cold?” Tamara said.

Pedro thought about lying. He thought about smiling and nodding, saying everything was gonna be fine.

Instead, he shook his head. “I don’t know. Not a clue. But we didn’t come this far to fail now. We’re getting your boy to the Living Zone. He doesn’t get there, none of us get there, that’s the way I see it.”

Tamara half-smiled. She moved her stringy blonde hair out from her eyes. “That’s…‌that’s half the problem,” she whispered.

“What is?”

Tamara paused. Looked beyond Pedro. Barry was still moaning in the background about his suit, and Josh was bouncing around on one foot singing All I Want for Christmas.

“It’s…‌Well when we get to this Living Zone. When we get there. What am I supposed to do? Just‌—‌just hand my boy over? I mean don’t get me wrong, I want him to be okay. I want him to‌—‌to help make everyone else okay, if that’s what he can do. But the closer we’re getting, the more I…‌I don’t want my boy to become a lab rat, Pedro.”

This time, as Tamara lowered her head, Pedro really did put his hand on her shoulder. Felt mechanical as he moved it, but it just seemed the right thing to do.

He inched closer to her. Leaned down. “Nobody’s getting your son until you give the word. I promise you that. And you’ve seen what I can do when people get in my way.”

Tamara raised her eyebrows. “Walking evidence all over Barry’s face of that, yeah.”

“Exactly,” Pedro said. “And I don’t mind Barry. He’s decent, like. Imagine someone I don’t like.”

The slight hint of a smile crept up Tamara’s cheeks. Made Pedro feel even more tingly inside.

“What do you think about…‌about Elaine?” Tamara whispered.

Pedro had almost forgotten about Elaine, she was that quiet. He looked over his shoulder. She was by the side of the tent, cut off from the rest of them once again, Sammy helping her into her gear. She looked a state. That look on her face‌—‌that look of sheer defeat‌—‌it didn’t seem to be going away anytime soon.

“I don’t think much about her,” Pedro said. “I…‌She’s been through somethin’ horrible. Hopefully she can find some happiness in Manchester. If that’s possible.”

“Hmm,” Tamara said.

She sounded like she wanted to elaborate. Pedro wanted to ask her why. Wanted to ask her what was with the “questioning” nature of the noise.

“All suited and booted?”

The voice cut through his thoughts. He turned around and saw Jason. In his black riot gear, he looked more action hero than football manager again. He wasn’t bulky, not by any stretch of the imagination. But hell‌—‌Pedro was hardly ripped himself and he was the toughest person he’d ever known.

“Just about,” Pedro said.

Jason nodded. Looked at Tamara, smiled, nodded. “Good. Everyone by the opening.”

Pedro and Tamara looked at one another, raised their eyebrows in turn, then followed robotic Jason over towards the curtain.

Everyone circled around Jason, stood in front of the curtain. There was nothing more than a black zip separating them from the outside world.

“Now I don’t know a lot about any of you. But what I have gathered is that you’re decent individuals. Believe it or not, that’s a good trait. I don’t know your past, I don’t know your stories, and I don’t know what pain it took for you to get here.”

He looked at Barry‌—‌at his swollen face‌—‌quite obviously.

Then his eyes drifted to Elaine, spaced-out and speechless as ever.

“What I do know is that you have an idea about the infected. You have your own interpretations on how they work, how they function. Interpretations you’ve built up based on two months of experiences since the outbreak.” He paused. Looked at each and everyone. God, this man was
seriously
a robot. “I want you to forget everything you think you know about the infected. The rules change the moment you step through these curtains.”

The rules change.
What the hell was he talking about? Pedro thought back to those weird quiet creatures that’d taken down Chris. Was it something to do with that? Had they all gone shtum all of a sudden?

“The walk should take just under two hours,” Jason said. “We stay close. We stay alert. Myself, Sammy and Dom are armed, and we’re good in combat. So trust in us. And respect that we don’t want to go handing guns to people we’re unfamiliar with, not yet. Understood?”

Pedro thought about protesting. Heard Barry mumble and grumble something. But Jason had a point. Pedro wouldn’t trust a fat guy and a glassy-eyed girl with a gun if he were in charge, that was for sure. Probably wouldn’t trust himself, in truth.

“Good,” Jason said, taking the lack of response as a “yes.” “Then we’re just about ready to go.” He lifted one of five small black Nike rucksacks off the ground beside him. “Refreshments. Water, food, things like that to get you by as comfortable as possible. But don’t be too greedy‌—‌these supplies are not infinite.”

Jesus, never mind the action hero‌—‌this guy was a frigging member of a flight cabin crew with all his instructions. What next? Was he gonna start indicating the main exit points? Offer a cheeky suckjob in the bathroom?

He reached up for the top of the curtain. Nodded at each and every one in the room. Sammy and Dom went up to stand behind him, large L85A2 rifles in hand. Damn, what he’d give to hold one of those again. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Jason lowered the zipped opening to the tent. Light started to peek through, the cool breeze getting gradually stronger.

“You ready?” he asked.

Pedro took a deep breath in.

Two hours ‘til safety.

Two hours to survive.

Two hours to protect Josh.

“Then let’s get home safely,” Jason said.

He lowered the zip completely, and they were out in the dangerous wild again.

Chapter Three: Chloë

They walked down the path for what felt like forever even though it probably wasn’t that long.

“Does this path ever end?” Chloë asked Jordanna.

Jordanna looked around. Looked at the trees, which were getting taller, shaking in the wind. They were like monsters watching over them, but nicer monsters than the ones that bit people. Friendly monsters‌—‌that’s what the world needed.

“It’ll end at some point,” Jordanna said. The dead rabbit swayed from her hand. Chloë wondered how long it took for meat to go bad, but she couldn’t really smell it yet so she guessed it must be okay. “Every path comes to an end at some point.”

Chloë looked ahead. Looked down this narrow, twig-covered path. Looked at the wall of trees either side of it. She wanted to believe Jordanna. “I went down a path in Spain once that didn’t end. It just stopped in the middle of a field.”

“Then it came to an end,” Jordanna said. “Just because it ended in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean it…‌”

Her voice trailed off. She stopped walking all of a sudden. It took Chloë a few seconds to stop too, noticing that Jordanna’s footsteps were no longer cracking the frozen twigs.

She looked at Jordanna. Saw that Jordanna was staring right ahead, wide-eyed.

“What’s wrong?” Chloë asked.

When she looked herself, she saw exactly what was wrong.

Just in the distance, down the path, she could see moving figures. Six of them, shuffling from side to side. Staggering down the path like they were trying to find an ending themselves. They all had blood covering them in one place or another. They all were walking in that weird, stiff way that they always did, like they’d been dipped in ice and left to thaw.

Monsters.

“This way,” Jordanna whispered. She crouched down and moved to her left, back into the trees. Chloë followed.

“But we have to follow the path‌—‌”

“We’ll go around them,” Jordanna said. “Just…‌Just keep low. And keep quiet.”

Chloë followed Jordanna through the trees. There were so many trees that she could only see through to the path every few seconds, and even then she couldn’t see the monsters properly. She got a glimpse of them every now and then, and they were still moving slowly, still walking down the path.

“Quick,” Jordanna said. She grabbed Chloë’s hand, and Chloë noticed how cold and dry and bony it was. “Over here. Look.”

Chloë could barely take her eyes off the blur of the monsters wandering down the path, but when she did, she saw what Jordanna was talking about.