Dead Days: Season 3 (Books 13-18) (38 page)

Tamara’s voice echoed around Pedro’s mind. He scanned the side of the flats‌—‌tried to find a way they could climb up, get off the road, get away.

But the walls were lined with barbed wire. The fire escapes were stuffed with sharp-looking metal.

Pedro stopped when he got to the wall. Stopped, but only when it was right in front of him, only when he could see that there was no way in, no way through, no way at all.

He turned back. Turned back, Josh still in his arms, Tamara by his side.

The paceys were getting closer. At least a hundred of them, all very hungry, stopping for nothing. Where humans seek an open end, the hungry fuckers relish a dead end.

A dead end with plenty of live treats.

“What do we do?” Tamara asked, her voice minuscule, as the slavering goons completely blocked the road ahead, stripping them of any possible escape. “Pedro? What do we do?”

Chapter Two

The light blinded him, but he was getting used to it. He still didn’t understand, though. Didn’t understand the muffled voices above him, like chalk on a blackboard, scratching around his head. He didn’t understand the smells‌—‌medicinal, tangy. But stronger. Stronger than anything he’d ever smelled in his life.

What even was his life? Who was he? Where was he and how was he here?

Deep down, beyond those questions, which fizzled out like vaporised smoke, he had a vague idea of what he was. Of what had happened to him. Something bad.

But he couldn’t pinpoint it. He couldn’t understand.

“Are you ready to walk around, sir?”

A woman’s voice from somewhere above him. Yes‌—‌the dark haired woman. He couldn’t make out her face, but he knew she was there. Knew she was helping him. Helping him from whatever had happened…‌

And then he remembered.

He remembered exactly what had happened. The pain. The defeat. The blackness.

He remembered what had happened and he wondered if this was heaven.

When his eyes adjusted to the light, he realised it was much, much more interesting.

Pedro took in a few shaky deep breaths as the pacey goons approached.

He knew his time was almost up.

Backed up against the metal wall of the Living Zone, he watched as the zombies got nearer. Listened to the sounds of their eager footsteps marching against the ground like soldiers well out of cue. He tried his best not to smell them, tried his best not to picture his face as one of them.

But there were so many of them that he’d probably be lucky. They’d tear so many pieces off him that he’d have nothing left to walk with.

He looked at Tamara. She too was staring ahead, defeat on her face. She wasn’t looking at her boy anymore, who Pedro had placed back in her arms, army helmet resting atop his head. She was just staring at the oncoming zombies, probably thinking the same thoughts as Pedro, probably hoping the damn pacey goons would hurry the fuck up and get it done with.

“Thank you,” she said. Her lips quivered. She didn’t look at Pedro, but she said the words.

Pedro didn’t respond. He just rested a hand on her shoulder. After all, what was she thanking him for? He’d failed her. Failed her boy. Failed the whole frigging mission he’d been trying to accomplish.

Pedro backed into the wall some more. The goons were so close now. It’d be over in a matter of seconds. It’d hurt, and if he had a loaded gun he’d much rather blow his brains out than the fate he was about to suffer. But shit. He’d had a good run. Lasted a shit ton longer than the majority of people.

“You tried,” Tamara said. Her hands shook. She was losing the grip of her boy, her knees shaky. “That’s…‌Everything you did for us. Thank you.”

Pedro looked into Tamara’s brown eyes. Looked at her gorgeous blonde hair, her pretty plump lips.

Shit. If this was a romance, he might just wrap his arms around her and snog the face off her. Nice way to die.

But it wasn’t a romance, so he just half-smiled as well as his shitting-itself face could manage, and nodded at her.

He turned to face the zombies. Looked at the wall of them as they prepared to close in.

He shut his eyes. Didn’t want to see them tear his guts out. Which was weird, really, because it’d just make their teeth sinking in him even more of a shock.

He thought of Corrine. Thought of Sam. Thought of Sam when he was full of life. Before the accident. When he was outside in the sunshine, riding his bike with his stabilisers.

They were nice thoughts.

Nice times.

He braced himself. Braced himself as the smell surrounded him, as the footsteps became drumming noises.

Almost over. Almost‌—‌

At first, he thought the crackling noise was the start of it. That the zombies were biting into his flesh and his brain just hadn’t registered the pain yet.

He opened his eyes.

Weirdest thing was happening.

The zombies were all falling. Falling to the ground, like a wave crashing to the shore, right in front of him and Tamara.

And there was something spraying, something crackling above him, behind him.

Gunfire.

He looked up. Saw several people in black‌—‌too many for him to count. They were all firing guns. Firing ammunition down at the zombies in a mass of rounds, sending them tumbling to their feet.

“To your left!” one of them shouted. “Through the gates with your hands in the air!”

It took Pedro a few seconds to realise they were talking to him.

To his left? Had this dick even seen this place?

When Pedro looked though, he noticed something different about the wall. There was an opening in it. A tiny opening, square, that he’d have to crawl through, but an opening nonetheless. An opening that wasn’t there before.

“Hurry the fuck up unless you want these bullets to be for nothing.”

Pedro pushed Tamara forward. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the zombies, falling but gradually getting nearer, the ones at the back climbing at over their
dead
dead friends.

They reached the opening. Tamara crouched down, Josh still in her arms, and moved through it.

Pedro could hear the goons so close behind. He could hear the bullets still firing, but then someone above shouted: “They’re too close! Cut the fire!”

As he watched Tamara shuffle through that opening and onto the concrete at the other side, he knew right there and then what sacrifice meant. For her to be safe, he’d willingly not walk through this opening with her.

But he did anyway. Made more sense than sticking around with a bunch of hungry undead wankers. And fuck, he’d been due a deus ex machina moment his whole damned life. Fancy time to get one.

He shuffled through. Felt the zombies scratch at the back of his legs, felt their teeth snap at his ankles.

But he was through. Tamara was through.

The metal door slammed shut behind them. A group of goons thudded against them.

“Hands above your head!”

Pedro hardly had time to take in his surroundings before a man dressed all in black was pointing a gun at him.

No. Make that six people in black pointing guns at him.

He lifted his arms. Lifted his arms as he stood at the other side of this wall. Truth was, it looked much like the outside of the wall here. Only quieter. None of the abandoned, mashed up cars. Clear streets. Buildings, shops that weren’t boarded up.

“And the lady,” one of the masked men said. He had goggles over his eyes.

Pedro looked over at Tamara. Looked at her standing there, holding her son.

“Her son’s dead. Give her a br‌—‌”

“If you want to step another foot into here, I suggest she lifts her arms
right
now,” the angry-sounding man said.

Pedro nodded at Tamara. Nodded at her to trust these people. Not that he trusted them himself. Just he worried what they’d do to her‌—‌to both of them‌—‌if they didn’t comply. After all, they were the ones holding the guns.

Tamara crouched down. Winced as she placed her son on the floor. Pedro caught a glance at him. His skin had gone a paler colour. He looked right away. He didn’t want to see anything else. It turned his gut just to think of it.

“Frosty reception for a ‘living zone,’” Pedro said.

The angry-sounding man paced towards Pedro and Tamara. “None of that smart-talk. My colleague is somewhere outside the walls in a very precarious position all thanks to you two. Boys and girls, you know what to do.”

The five men behind the angry one, all of their faces disguised by helmets and big black goggles covering their eyes, powered forward with their rifles in hand, large black rucksacks on all of their backs.

“Your man,” Pedro said, ignoring the people as they stepped forward. “Are you talking about Dom?”

The angry man ignored Pedro. Two of the soldiers stepped behind Tamara, grabbed her arms and pulled her back.

“Hey!” Pedro shouted. He tried to lunge forward but he felt something tug at his arms‌—‌something tight. “Get your fucking hands off‌—‌”

And then one of the men crouched down over Josh. Held his gun against him. Pedro noticed some weird thing on the end of the gun‌—‌some kind of scanner, and a little screen in the other man’s hand.

“GET AWAY FROM MY BOY!” Tamara screamed. She frothed at the mouth, pulled at the two men behind her, shook her body. She was like a feral animal.

The little-screened device in the man’s hand bleeped. He sighed. Lowered his head. Looked back at Angry Voice and nodded.

“Get away get away get‌—‌”

“Sorry for this,” Angry Voice said.

He reached into his rucksack.

“GET AWAY GET‌—‌GET AWAY…‌”

He pulled out an assault rifle with a small metal canister attached to the bottom of it.

Oh fuck. Oh no. Oh no…‌

“Get away from my fucking son…‌”

Angry Voice pointed the gun at Josh’s body.

“Please…‌Please…‌” Tamara sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

Pedro had to close his eyes. He couldn’t watch the rest.

But he’d be able to smell it. For the rest of his life, he’d be able to smell it. He knew too well what burning flesh smelled like, and he was about to have another memory added to his list.

He waited for the jet of flames to cover Josh’s dead body. Waited, as Tamara screamed on, nothing she could do about it.

And then a voice cried out from the right: “Barbarians! Lower your bloody weapons! Jesus Christ.”

Pedro opened his eyes. Saw a tall, long-nosed guy with short dark hair coming his way. He had the face of an elephant, and was unusually tall and thin, with a broad Manchester accent.

“Sir?” Angry Voice said, his flame gun still pointing at Josh. “But I‌—‌I thought‌—‌”

“You thought wrong, Winston. Lower your weapons. All of you.”

The troops’ heads lowered, like kids being told off in the playground. They lowered their guns and stepped away.

This man walked towards Pedro and Tamara, who were still being held back, only not at gunpoint now. The man was dressed in a grey suit with a blue tie, the back part of it dangling lower than the front like he’d never tied one in his life.

He slowed and stopped when he saw Josh on the ground. He crouched down. Tamara whimpered again, pulled herself forward. But this man simply looked at Josh. Shook his head.

He stood up again, adjusted his tie. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Both of you. I really am.”

Pedro sensed a sincerity in this guy’s words. Sincerity that didn’t come easy, not these days.

“And who are you?” Pedro asked.

The man stepped up to Pedro. Held out a thin, bony hand.

“Jim Hall,” he said. “Councillor Jim Hall.”

Pedro observed “Councillor” Jim Hall’s hand, still unable to grab it with the man holding his hand back.

“Councillor of what?”

Jim Hall’s wrinkly smile twitched. He lowered his hand.

“You’re about to find out.”

Chapter Three

Pedro followed Jim Hall and the six men with helmets and goggles over their faces through the door of a building just to the right. He wasn’t sure about Jim Hall. Maybe it was just his name. Reminded Pedro of that crazy Jim Jones over in America who got all his nutty followers to kill themselves.

He definitely wouldn’t accept a cocktail from Jim Hall, that was for sure.

They walked inside the building. Tamara held Josh in her arms again after the narrow escape from the flame-thrower. She sobbed, muttered to herself as they climbed up a staircase. The room they were in was bland, nothing to it beyond the light green walls. Like the fire escape in a hospital, no need for decoration because no one ever used it. It smelled medicinal, too. Like a lot of disinfectant was spread around the place.

“Where are we going?” Pedro asked. Jim Hall hadn’t said much since he’d let them inside this building. There was a hushed tone to everyone, actually, but the questions bombing their way through Pedro’s head made enough noise. Where had the huge wall come from? What was with the weird technology that scanned Josh’s body?

What the hell was this place?

“You’ll find out in due course,” Jim Hall said, bouncing up every step. “There’s stuff you need to understand before you go any further inside. Stuff you need to comprehend. I’ll help you with that.”

They turned and climbed some more steps. This staircase seemed endless, and yet looking out of the window, Pedro didn’t really feel that high off the ground. Hadn’t even touched the top of this wall yet.

There was something weird about the wall. Something that Pedro only really noticed now he was alongside it, now he wasn’t being chased by goons. It looked like one big chunk of metal, or a few piled on top of one another. Like one of those Lightsaber toys he’d bought Sam years ago, which extended out as he clicked the bottom. This wall, the way it crumbled through the bricks of the tall buildings lining the other side of the street, it didn’t look built. It looked more as if it had…‌as if it had
risen
from the ground.

Pedro thought about asking about it when he heard a door open above. He looked and saw that Jim Hall had opened up a door. Inside, there was a brightish light with a blue hue to it. Like a sunbed shop, or some craziness like that.