Dead Days: The Complete Season Two Collection (18 page)

“He won’t find Stevie. If we haven’t found him on our supply runs, then Mike won’t‌—‌”

“You don’t know that. You can’t possibly know that.” He lifted the sausage again and scratched away the crispy skin.

“No. I don’t know that. But I don’t see the point in spending our lives stressing about it anymore. We’ve lived under the shadow of fear and worry for long enough as it is. We’ve had it hanging around our neck like a fucking rock on a string for weeks. But now we’ve got this place, things are getting better. And we’re going to buckle down for the rest of winter and for Christmas and we’re going to fight on through. And if a time comes when we do have to leave this place, then so be it.” Riley stabbed the remaining sausage from Pedro’s plate and shoved it in his own mouth. “But right now, we’re here. We’re as safe as we’re going to be.”

He smiled at Pedro. Pedro did something that resembled a smile. A twitch.

“It’s just…‌‌what happened to the kid, bruv. Thomas. Knowing that this Mike figure left him to that fate. Fuck‌—‌
fed
him that fate. Just doesn’t sit right. Not one bit.”

Riley chewed at the sausage. It reminded him of breakfast in New York a few years back. Better times. Pre-Dead Days and pre-shitty life days. Greasy, juicy and delicious. “It doesn’t sit right with me either. I had to…‌‌I had to make sure he didn’t come back. Imagine how that‌—‌”

All of a sudden, a shrill, cold scream echoed from outside. At first, Riley thought it came from the pool; that maybe someone had slipped over or was just playing around in the water.

But no. It came from outside. Everyone in the cafeteria paused right at that second and looked around at the main door, in the direction of the gates.

Riley turned around too. Outside, he could see a woman in front of the main gates. Allison Winkleman she was called. In her late forties. Really cheery woman who always seemed to have her book in her hands as she sat outside her caravan, her Border Collie Luther at her feet wagging his tail.

Riley got up from his seat. Approached the door. He could see that Allison was crying. Sitting on her knees and crying as she held something in her arms. Something red. People gathered around her‌—‌guards from the gate, others from the site who had heard the screams. As people bustled past, Riley too made his way to the main door of the Heathwaite’s cafeteria and down the steps into the road.

Allison was whimpering. She was cradling something in her arms. Riley couldn’t make it out. It looked like she was holding a big slab of meat, like those they hung up in creepy freezer rooms on television shows and films. He got closer to her as Donald Stanton, a gate guard, patted her on the shoulder.

It was when he was a few feet away that Riley realised what the red chunk of meat was.

“Allison, how did this happen?” Donald asked. “Come away from him, my love and tell me how this happened.”

She looked up, snivelling, keeping the chunk of meat to her chest. “He…‌‌he was with me this morning and then he was gone. He‌—‌he never runs away. Never. I just…‌‌Oh my poor Luther. My baby. My Luther.”

Donald sighed and raised himself to his feet. He turned to address the crowd. “If you’d all like to take a step back, please, and give Allison a bit of space. We’d really appreciate it.”

“What’s gone on here?” a man’s voice shouted.

“What the fuck is that thing?” another said.

Riley didn’t need an answer.

He knew that chunk of meat was Luther.

Except Luther had been skinned, with every bit of fur sliced away from his flesh.

Riley stepped away from the scene of the crime, or Allison’s discovery, rather. He rubbed his hands against his face. Seeing poor Luther like that in her arms was in stark contrast to the normality they’d established over the previous ten days. A slab of meat, that’s what he was. Bloody, fresh meat. Soon, he’d smell. Soon, he’d be just like the rest of the slabs of meat that Riley had grown so used to seeing roam the streets. Rotting flesh. So void of life.

“How the fuck did this happen?” Pedro shouted.

Rodrigo had joined the scene of the chaos. He stood looking at Allison, cradling her skinned dog. His cheeks were pale. He held his hand over his mouth. Riley could see that look in his eyes. The same look he’d seen when Riley had told him about the discovery of Dominic and Peter. And judging from the way that Pedro was raising his voice, he’d noticed that same look too.

“When did he go missing?” Rodrigo asked, softening his voice with every word as he approached Allison.

Allison blubbered. Tears dripped down her cheeks beneath her thick-lensed glasses.

“Allison,” Rodrigo said, crouching beside her. He rested a hand on her bloody wrist. “It’s very important that you talk to me here. I’m so sorry about…‌‌about Luther. But it’s very important that you‌—‌”

“He was at my feet. At my feet like always. And then…‌‌then I went inside the caravan and he was gone. But I didn’t think anything of it. He never goes, and when he does, he always comes back right away. But he didn’t. He stayed gone and‌—‌and then I went to find him. I looked everywhere and then…‌‌then I saw the gate guards with him. I saw them with him and‌—‌and although his fur’s gone…‌‌although his lovely fur’s gone, I know it’s him. I know my Luther.”

Rodrigo sighed. He patted Allison on her shoulder, cringing as Luther’s skinned corpse caught his eye.

“So what do you think?” Pedro asked, still speaking a little loudly. “This look familiar to you?”

“Pedro,” Riley said. “Let’s go inside‌—‌”

“Does this look like him to you?” Pedro shouted at Rodrigo. “Or are we just gonna go back inside and pretend like nothing’s happening here? Like everything’s normal.”

“Pedro,” Riley said, raising his voice. “Think about this. Nothing rash here.”

But it was too late. The whispers were already starting. People in the crowd were looking at one another with curiosity.

“Who’s ‘him’?” one voice asked.

“Do you know who did this?” another asked.

Rodrigo clenched his jaw and rose to his feet, away from sobbing Allison and the lump of flesh that was her Luther. “What’s happened here is a terrible accident,” he said, authority in his voice. “It’d be wise to head back to your caravans. We’ll hold a full meeting about this down in the cafeteria later if you’d like to‌—‌”

“Accident?” one voice said. It was Dave Wellson. Always sceptical and cynical about things, no matter how good things seemed to get. “You can’t tell us that dog there died accidentally. Look at the mutt‌—‌he’s been
skinned
.”

More voices sparked up with fear and anger. Allison whimpered even louder.

“We’ll look into every possible avenue,” Rodrigo said, raising his hand in a Cesarian-esque attempt to silent the crowd. “But we need to sit down and have a talk. A proper, civilised talk in the cafeteria. If two p.m. sounds good by you, then it’s good to me too. Right now, we need to give Allison some space to grieve. It’s the very least we can do.”

The worried shouts of the crowd descended to a murmur. People started to turn away and wander back up the street. Tears ran down kids’ faces at the sight of the bloody mess. More tears ran down the faces of those who realised that the bloody mess was friendly little Luther.

“Rodrigo’s right,” Donald the gate guard said, rising back to the top of the ladder that looked out over the gate. “Right now, Allison needs some…‌‌Shite. Holy fookin’ shite.”

The crowd silenced again. Those who had turned to walk away turned back around, looking up at a clearly terrified Donald.

“What is it?” Riley shouted.

“What the fuck is it?” Pedro echoed.

Rodrigo stared on. Dave Wellson stared on.

Allison cradled and sobbed into her limp dog’s body some more.

“It’s…‌‌You’re gonna want to see this, Rodrigo. Gonna wanna fucking see this to make sure I’m not going bleedin’ mad here.”

Rodrigo stormed towards the ladder at the fence. The crowd followed closely behind, chatting loudly again, panic in the air.

When Rodrigo reached the top of the ladder, the frown dropped from his face, and he froze.

Riley managed to make his way up the ladder, too. Pulled himself onto it before anyone else and climbed his way to the top.

“What do you see?” Riley asked. “What is it?”

He didn’t need an answer.

When he got to the top of the ladder, he could see the horde of creatures staggering down the road from the opposite direction to the Dumping Ground.

Not tens.

Not even hundreds.

As far as the eye could see, right down the street.

And all of them were groaning.

Chapter Three

Riley stared down the street at the creatures wandering in the direction of Heathwaite’s Caravan Park. Dread welled up inside him as he saw the distant faces of the hundreds, thousands of former humans, their groans echoing against the tarmac as they wandered and wandered with only one thing in mind.

Eating.

“Get down from there, Riley.” The voice was Rodrigo’s. He realised it came from below. He’d hopped off the ladder, as had Donald, and now was left up there on his own. The crowd were whispering. Not screaming or going crazy, like they might do in a Hollywood film. No, there was an eerie silence about them. A look of inevitability and realisation on their faces as Donald told them what was happening and to get back to their caravans.

Up ahead, as Riley started to climb down the ladder, away from the oncoming horde of creatures, he saw Anna and Aaron running in his direction with confused looks on their faces. He wanted to tell her himself. He wanted to be the one to give her the news.

The way she covered her mouth when a man in the crowd told her; the way Aaron lifted his hands behind his neck. They knew. Everybody knew.

Now they just had to work out what the hell they were going to do about it.

“Everybody, get back to your caravans,” Rodrigo said. “Just…‌‌just get back and stay as calm as you can. And lock the doors. I’ll contact you over the in-site speaker system if…‌‌if…‌”

“Now might be a good time to start thinking about that fucking contingency plan,” Pedro said, squaring up to Rodrigo. The panicked shouts and screams were starting to pick up now as footsteps jogged in the direction of the caravans.

“I’m not leaving this place. None of us are. We can work through this.”

“Work through this?” Pedro said. “Have you seen how many of those things are out there? We’re not talking a few straggling goons, mate. We’re talking an army.”

“And we’ll deal with them. We don’t have to leave this place.”

Rodrigo stepped around Pedro and started to walk back towards the gate.

“We just have to think,” Rodrigo said, his back turned to the others. Clouds loomed overhead. Not stormy clouds, not like some clichéd horror film. Fluffy clouds actually. In direct contrast to the shitstorm about to unfold on the ground.

“I’ve thought,” Pedro said as one of the gate watchers escorted Allison and her dog corpse back towards the caravans. “The way I see it, we have two options. Option one: we get the fuck out of here. Option two: we sit in here and wait for those goons to breach our gates. Which they will. Right, Riley? Back me up here, bruv.”

Riley stared at the gates. They were tall. Solid. They would likely hold even if a few hundred creatures pressed up against them. And if not, there were other security measures. They could shut the gates to the parking area they were standing in. Pen the creatures into a section of the caravan park and pick them off when they had them in sight.

“I think the main thing here is to keep everyone quiet,” Riley said.

“Quiet?” Pedro said. “Bruv, those things are groaning like motherfuckers as it is. Us going silent isn’t going to make such a difference the way I see it. Anna, Aaron. You’ve got my back here, right?”

Anna scratched at her shiny brown hair. Aaron looked at his feet, which he seemed to do a hell of a lot of.

“Fuck you,” Pedro said. “Fuck you all. You’re signing a death warrant. Don’t you see that?”

Riley looked up at the speaker systems around the site as Pedro and Anna bickered amongst one another. The loudspeakers were installed right on top of several tall, metal pylons, three of which Riley could see in Heathwaite’s Caravan Site.

“What I want to know is why the hell those things are heading this way,” Pedro said.

Aaron tutted.

“What?” Pedro said, reddening in the face. “Got something to say, kid? You seem to know a fuckload about what’s going on around here. Besides, how did that poor doggy get skinned after all?”

“Pedro, don’t be a dick,” Anna said, putting her arm over Aaron’s shoulder.

“I think the more pressing matter is figuring out what the hell our next move is here,” Rodrigo said, speaking sterner and louder. “There’s several hundred of those zombies heading right down the road and towards our gates. It doesn’t matter whether they’re from Silverdale, Morecambe Bay or Bagh-fucking-dad. All that matters is that they’re coming, and we better do something about them if we want to keep this place intact.”

Anna sighed and shrugged. “I…‌‌I want to stay. I mean, with winter getting colder and‌—‌”

“We’re lucky we found this place anyway,” Pedro said. “We’re lucky our boat ended up wrecked where it did. This place has been a nice stopgap, nothing more. About fucking time we accepted that before sentimentality gets us into any more trouble.”

“Lucky?” Anna said. Her face reddened. “Lucky? We lost Claudia and Chloë, Pedro.”

“We lose people all the time. All the fucking time, we lose people. And we’re gonna lose more people when those creatures hit the gates. We’ll lose people if we walk out of here. Not as many, which I like. But we lose people. That’s life.”

“Don’t pretend to be so cold to me, Pedro,” Anna said, her voice rising. “I know how much you want this place to work. How much you give a shit about this life. These people. About…‌‌about us. Don’t even try bullshitting me‌—‌”

“The loudspeaker,” Riley said.

Anna and Pedro went quiet. Rodrigo, who had his head in his hand, looked over at Riley.

“What about the loudspeaker?” Pedro asked.