Dead Days: Season 3 (Books 13-18) (34 page)

And she still had hold of the rabbit. Slightly squished, but still there.

Chloë felt a tear drip from her cheek and onto the red, dusty rocks below.

“It’ll take more than a few rocks to kill me, kiddo,” Jordanna said, her voice raspy.

Chloë couldn’t help herself from laughing and crying.

“How do you…‌how do you survive being crushed like that?”

Jordanna laughed. She plucked away a piece of rock that had wedged into her bloody arm. She was covered in blood and dust, and it was impossible to tell what colour her jacket actually was because that had been torn up and covered with red dust too. “Luck, Chlo. A lifetime’s backlog of luck.”

They were quite a way down the path now. They hadn’t come across any monsters since the ones at the caves. Chloë wasn’t sure it even mattered anyway; she was still buzzing because she wasn’t on her own. She thought she was on her own, but she wasn’t. Jordanna hadn’t gone away.

“And is the…‌is the rabbit still okay?”

Jordanna lifted it up. It was squished, and some of its insides were dangling out. “Ahh, it’ll do. Give it a good enough cook and nobody’ll know any different.”

As they walked down the path, Chloë couldn’t believe how positive Jordanna seemed. She’d just been trapped underneath a load of rocks. She was covered in blood, some of it hers, some of it from the monster whose head she’d bashed in. But she was walking. Walking with a bit of a limp in her right leg, but walking. She was so strong. So brave. Chloë really wanted to be like her, although she didn’t want to be crushed by a cave any time soon.

Jordanna looked at Chloë. Narrowed her eyes. “Something to say?”

Chloë gulped. She turned ahead. Her cheeks were burning. “It just…‌I just wondered if…‌if you’ll tell me about you yet.”

Jordanna smirked. Shook her head. “You really want to know my past, don’t you? Ah, what the heck. Although I have to warn you. You probably won’t like me very much when you hear.”

Chloë found that hard to believe.

Jordanna took in a deep breath. “I was…‌I sold myself. Or I worked for someone who sold me. If that makes…‌if that makes any sense.”

“Sold yourself as what?”

Jordanna opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Never mind. You, er…‌You’re probably a bit young to‌—‌”

“You mean like a prozzie?”

Jordanna’s cheeks, although already red with blood, flushed. “Yeah I…‌although I preferred not to go by that name. I prefer ‘escort.’ But yeah. Pretty…‌pretty much.”

“What was it like?” Chloë asked.

Jordanna looked at her. Frowned. “It, er…‌It was Hell, to be honest. I only ended up there because I was kicked out my house for making space cakes…‌erm, bad cakes…‌for making bad cakes when I was nineteen. So I knew a friend of a friend and had bills to pay, places to live, and I…‌yeah. That’s how it happened. That’s my life in a nutshell. My life pre-apocalypse, anyway.”

“The cakes must have been really bad.”

Jordanna laughed. She ruffled Chloë’s hair, which Chloë edged away from but actually quite liked. “You’re a funny little thing, I have to say. So what about you? What year you in at school?”

“Nine,” Chloë said.

“Nine? I remember being in Year Nine. Any boys you crush on?”

Chloë cheeks burned hotter than they had in ages. She could feel the cool air against them, but that just made them feel hotter. She looked down the path, but she wasn’t really seeing anything. Her mind was just racing with the question.

She shook her head. “Not really.”

Truth was, she hadn’t really thought about boys in the way her other friends did. She was friends with a few boys, but she never thought about kissing or doing anything dirty with them. It made her feel a bit sick. She wasn’t sure why, but she thought girls were much prettier. She didn’t understand it, but she spent her nights thinking about Nicole Scherzinger, about girls like that, wishing they were her close friends, wishing they would hold her hand.

“Boys are shit anyway,” Jordanna said, twigs crunching underneath her limping foot. “My first boyfriend knocked me about because I wouldn’t put out. If the world ever gets back to normal, Chlo, just remember that all the power in the world rests in between your legs. Think I saw that or read it somewhere before, and it’s so true. Men think they have the power, but they don’t. They’re driven by one thing, and you know exactly what that is. Just bear that in mind.”

Chloë nodded, but she really had no idea what Jordanna was talking about. Maybe one day it would come in handy, when she wasn’t too tired and hungry to try and understand.

Jordanna stopped.

It reminded Chloë of just earlier when she’d stopped at the sight of the oncoming monsters. Her gut turned. She looked back at Jordanna. Those same wide-eyes she had before when they’d seen the monsters. That same look of…‌

No. Wait. She didn’t look scared.

She dropped the rabbit to the ground. Dropped it, and started to power-walk ahead of Chloë.

“Jordanna?” Chloë said. “Where are you…‌”

And then she saw it too.

Even though she was so lacking energy, she ran. Ran after Jordanna, ran in the direction of their discovery. Ran towards the opening in the woods, yes, but more towards what was there.

It was a black Land Rover. The front door was open, and the keys were stuck in the ignition.

Jordanna looked around. Looked to see where it might have come from, who it might belong to.

And then she climbed into the front seat.

“Please, God. Please.”

She held her breath.

Turned the key.

The engine spluttered. Died out.

Chloë opened the passenger door. She looked inside the car. There were boxes of salt and vinegar Pringles, Nutri-Grain cereal bars, and metal canisters in the back that looked like something from a petrol station.

“Come on. Come on.”

Jordanna turned the key again.

The engine spluttered.

Only this time, it spluttered to life.

Jordanna pumped the air with her fists. She looked at Chloë, smiling and laughing.

She picked up one of the Nutri-Grain bars and tore off the wrapper, stuffing half of it into her mouth at once and closing her eyes as she chewed.

“Hop in,” Jordanna said, food dribbling down her chin. “Looks like someone else will have to make do with squished rabbit for Christmas.”

Chapter Five: Pedro

The first hour was without incident.

Pedro stayed close behind Jason. Being in Manchester when it was like this was creepy as hell. The place, usually so buzzing with cars and traffic, was absolutely still, absolutely dead. Up ahead, Pedro could see a brick bridge, and on top of it, nothing but cars stacked up against one another. Packaging wafted across the road, scraping on its way. Small animals chased one another through the streets. There was a sickly smell in the air‌—‌a sickly smell of drains that Pedro remembered from being back in Preston.

Shit. Maybe being in a city wasn’t so good after all.

He looked over his shoulder to check on the others. Tamara and Josh were behind him, both holding hands, both creeping slowly through these streets, trying to make as little sound as possible. Josh coughed every now and then. Clearly the lad’s “cold” was still bothering him. Behind them, Sammy swayed from side to side with her L85A2 rifle, scanning every area for a sign of life. Further back, Barry walked alongside Elaine‌—‌an awkward pairing‌—‌and Dom propped up the rear.

“How long to go?” Josh asked.

Every utterance of a word was met with a sigh from Sammy. She squinted, focused closely on the surroundings. Slight hint of chatter from anyone and she acted like her day had gone tits up.

Then again, it probably had. They’d broken a pissing helicopter after all.

Pedro felt himself bump into something. He quickly looked in front, and realised he’d walked into Jason, who had stopped completely. Jason was looking at the road ahead‌—‌looking at the barricaded discount shops like Pound Land and Mr. Happy’s Curry Plaza, looking at the street names‌—‌Dudley Street, Elizabeth Street. Looking at signs for the Arndale, for Piccadilly Station. Places Pedro recognised from trips long ago, now nothing but letters on rusty signs.

“All okay?” Pedro whispered to Jason.

Jason didn’t respond. He looked to the left, over at the bridge, then along the road, then to the right, down a road that led to the City of Manchester Stadium. “This is where the four infected ambushed me last time. Just being alert.”

Pedro took a step back. Couldn’t argue with that. And rather Jason than him. For all the respect he had for Jason for saving his ass, he’d still much rather live than this guy. Wasn’t that just the way of the world? The way it’d always been? These people who sacrificed themselves for others, they were the nutty ones. Pedro was the sane one. He’d never understand it. Ever.

But would he sacrifice himself for Josh if he had to? Sacrifice his own life to maybe secure a future for the lives of everyone else?

That threw a spanner in the works.

“Come on,” Jason said, his voice a little louder. “Stay alert round here. It looks okay, but it’s best to be on your guard.”

Pedro nodded. Barry muttered something, but he was too far away for Pedro to hear properly. Probably for the best. He was sick of that guy’s bloody moaning.

The group went on. Walked across this road. Pedro kept looking from left to right, checking they weren’t on the verge of being ambushed at all times. He looked up at the top of the bridge, at the cars piled along it. Looked at the blood-smeared doors of a white school bus, and felt sick inside. What the fuck had happened to the world? Being in the countryside, then on the motorway, it’d distanced him somewhat. But seeing the terraced houses with “Save US!” and “God Forgive Us!” painted on the roofs…‌it brought home the reality of this shit. That there really was no escaping it.

Nowhere except a mystery Living Zone.

They reached the other side of the road. Felt a relief just to cross that hurdle. They’d been walking about an hour and ten minutes now, nothing to see at all. Not even a goon from a distance. Pedro wasn’t sure whether he liked that or not. He liked to know where he stood, what was going on. He didn’t like it when things hid away in dark corners.

They approached a narrow alleyway that ran between two rows of terraced council houses. Grey metal rubbish bins overflowed, flies buzzing around them. Glass and blood peppered the cobbled concrete.

“We’re not seriously going that way are we?” Barry asked.

Sammy squinted at him. “It’s the safest way. Unless you want to die. In which case, be my guest.”

“Alright, alright,” Jason said. He looked at Barry. “Sammy’s right though. This really is the best route. I’m not guaranteeing it’s perfect, but it’s as good as we’re going to get around here.”

“Get me there in one piece and I’ll be the judge of that,” Barry said.

Jason ignored him, and the group walked on.

It
was
narrow down this alleyway. Pedro wasn’t a guy to get claustrophobic easily, but even he couldn’t wait to get out. Tall brick walls of terraced house gardens surrounded them. In the distance, a bony fox jumped up from ravaging some bluebottle-covered litter, running off with a banana skin in its mouth. Every little movement made Pedro flinch, jump.

He looked up at the houses. Looked at the windows. Wondered if there was anybody inside them still. There must be some people who’d stayed at home. Preppers, if that movement even took off in the UK. That said, it’d be kinda funny to see the preppers fall first. Kind of ironic, in a twisted sort of way.

“Hold up,” Jason said. He stopped walking. “Three of them up ahead.”

Sammy and Dom immediately shuffled forward with their guns. They crouched down and aimed down the alleyway before Pedro could even see what Jason was talking about.

Then he saw them. Three goons, all wandering around in that dumbass way they always did. They were right at the bottom of the alleyway, right by a gate which opened out onto another street. Damned nuisance, that’s what they were.

Jason took a step forward, edging his way around a tall blue recycling bin that reeked like shit. Off-milk that hadn’t been washed out of recycled plastic bottles, no doubt. But fair play to the meathead Mancs for actually trying to recycle. Made a nice change to the norm.

“I’ve got these,” Jason said, creeping forward like a big cat stalking its prey. Pedro couldn’t wait for him to fire. Couldn’t wait to see the kickback of his rifle. He’d missed the army, in a way. Or rather, he’d missed proper guns. Proper guns were always a plus point, especially in the frigging apocalypse.

“Wait‌—‌I’ve got eyes on four infected at six-o-clock.” Dom’s voice.

Jason turned around, keeping his gun pointed forward.

He didn’t see the goon throw itself out from behind the recycling bin and sink its teeth into his neck.

He cried out. Cried, and shot his bullets into the air, which dropped down like hot metal rain. Blood spewed out of his neck as the decomposing zombie dug its teeth further into him, draining the colour from his pretty-boy, Hollywood actor cheeks.

Pedro lunged for the gun without even thinking. Just lunged for it on pure instinct. He grabbed it from Jason, who didn’t put up much of a protest. Aimed it at the goon’s head, and fired it into next week.

Blood and brains splattered against the recycling bin. Pedro looked down at Jason, eyes bulging as he choked and gargled on his own blood and vomit.

“Sorry,” Pedro said. “Thanks for everything.”

And without thinking again, on instinct again, he shot a few bullets into Jason’s head.

The life drifted from his body with a squelch of mashed brain.

Pedro turned around. Turned and saw everyone‌—‌even Sammy and Dom‌—‌staring at him with pure shock on their faces.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” Pedro barked, holding the gun tightly. “Fire at the fuckers!”

But then Pedro realised they weren’t looking at him. They weren’t even looking at Jason’s body.

He could hear something. Something like rainfall. Very heavy rainfall.

He could smell something too. Smell something even stronger, even sicklier than the rotting rubbish down this alleyway.