Dead Days: The Complete Season Two Collection (2 page)

“Have fun in there you two,” Anna said, winking as Riley lowered himself into the front cabin.

“Don’t sound too jealous,” Riley said. Then, he hopped down into the cabin above the engine: Pedro’s lair.

Pedro’s lair was just as unreadable as the man himself. Oak walls, probably imitation. Empty bookcases and shelves lined with dust that he still had not yet cleaned. A musty, old person’s smell in the air, which Riley assumed was a result of Pedro’s nan, who had owned the boat before he’d put it to good use. At the front of the cabin, a little steering wheel, and a few black levers that looked too flimsy to control a boat like this. The window looked out over the rest of the boat, and out to sea, elevated higher than the main level.

“How’s things in this cavern?” Riley asked.

Pedro handed him some binoculars. He still wasn’t speaking. But he was staring at him. Staring through his crinkly eyelids, his bald head tensed.

Riley lifted the binoculars and looked out to sea. “I don’t get what I’m‌—‌”

“The land on the right. Tell me what you see.”

Riley moved the binoculars over the water and searched for land. It took him a couple of times to focus properly through the long-range military binoculars that Pedro had brought along from the barracks, but eventually he saw what Pedro must’ve been referring to. A wooden pathway, right in the distance. A little hut beside it. “You thinking about docking up? Are we running low on fuel or something?”

Riley felt the binoculars yank out of place, banging against his nose as Pedro pulled them in the other direction.

“Fuel’s fine,” Pedro said as Riley squinted and tried to focus, Pedro still directing the binoculars for him, refusing to keep them still. “Plenty of fuel. Plenty of water. Plenty of food. But…‌‌that. About there. That’s our problem.”

Riley wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking at. “This is the middle of the sea you’ve got me looking at. Am I supposed to be‌—‌”

“Not the sea,” Pedro said. “Look up.”

Riley frowned. He lifted the binoculars slightly and looked above the grey water. The afternoon sun was low somewhere to his left. He had to be careful not to stare right at that through these binoculars. It’d fry his frigging eyes out.

“Do you see it yet?” Pedro’s voice was growing impatient.

“I don’t…‌” His speech trailed off. He hadn’t realised what he’d been looking at, at first, but that’s because he’d been looking for the wrong kind of thing. He’d been looking for land, or for creatures, or something physical.

What was ahead of them wasn’t any of those things.

It was a storm cloud. Clouds, plural. Thick, black clouds, heading right in their direction. An elemental blockage right in their pathway.

“Storms were always going to be a problem on the Irish Sea,” Pedro said. “Doesn’t help that winter’s on our doorstep. We need to make a call here, bruv. A call for the best of all of us.”

Riley stared right at the storm clouds. They seemed so much closer through these binoculars. “When do you think we’ll make contact with it?”

Pedro whistled. “Well, assuming we continue at our current speed and assuming it continues in this direction, anything from an hour to three hours. But you see, heading straight in this direction now we know that big fucker’s out there would be a mistake. A big mistake. So the way I see it, we have a choice.”

A choice. Riley was tired of making choices. He didn’t like to be the one to make choices anymore. Not after the previous choices he’d made. Not after Ted.

“Shouldn’t we ask the others what they think?”

“We could,” Pedro said. “But I don’t want to go panicking them, man. They’ll think I’ve‌—‌I’ve brought them out here on purpose. They’ll think I’m a right dick for bringing them out on this boat. And besides, if we make a decision quick enough, they won’t even have to know there ever was a storm.”

Riley lowered the binoculars. He looked out at the storm cloud, much smaller with his naked eyes. And then he looked at the land in the distance. The wooden dockland. Land meant creatures. Land meant people. Other groups. They’d learned enough about other groups from Ivan and the group at the barracks to know to avoid them. Trust nobody. A harsh but necessary measure in this new world.

“What are the choices?”

Pedro cleared his throat, like he was preparing to speak to a room full of a hundred people. “Choice one, we pull up for the night. Place over there looks pretty quiet. We can stay in the boat. Keep it tied up to the docks. And if we do need to leave, we leave. Quick exit. Safe from the storm.”

“And option two?”

“We divert our course slightly. Head west and move around the storm, then loop back round again. Benefits: we stay on sea, we move on, nobody knows a thing has happened except for a bit of choppy water. Negative: that big bitch of a storm over there could always just change its path. Unlikely, but‌—‌”

“We stay on water. We keep moving.”

Riley handed Pedro the binoculars, reached for the gap at the top of the cabin and started to lift himself out. Pedro was silent.

“Um, I respect your judgement, bruv, but are you sure that’s‌—‌”

“You said it would be safe,” Riley said, turning back to face Pedro in his cabin. “As long as it’s safe, we keep moving. Land is a last resort. Besides, we handled a storm last week, didn’t we?”

Pedro shook his head and gathered his words. “Yes, but that was…‌‌Riley, are you‌—‌”

“We keep moving. Divert the course slightly. That’s my choice. Feel free to consult the others if you feel you have to.” Riley stepped out of the cabin and lowered himself back onto the normal level of the boat.

“We’re going to have to get off this boat some day you know, Riley?” Pedro called. “We’re going to have to…‌‌to step on land again some day soon.”

Goosepimples spread across Riley’s skin. He knew land was the end goal. Finding somewhere safe to stay. Somewhere safe, manageable, theirs.

But life on the boat was so good. Life without the creatures. Life without looking over your shoulder at whether somebody walking your way was human or creature and if it was human, whether it would just kill you anyway.

“I know,” Riley called. He stepped around the walkway of the narrowboat. Through the window and in the main living area, he saw Chloë, Claudia and Anna, all smiling, all laughing. “Just not today,” he said, more to himself than to Pedro. “Just not today.”

At first, Riley thought it was somebody nudging him in his sleep. He got that a lot, a bunch of them cramped up on the floor.

But then he felt it again. Harder. A thump. A thump, deep in his ribs.

And that’s when the sound came.

A blast, like an explosion. He felt himself fall to one side. He heard a shout. A scream.

He opened his eyes, still a little disoriented. Claudia was by the window of the boat, gripping her daughter tightly. In front of Riley, to his right, Anna was on her back. She looked out cold. Fuck. She must’ve fallen. She must’ve‌—‌

As Riley scrambled to his feet, the boat tumbled to the other side, sending him flying towards the dining table, his face pressing up against the glass. The lights inside had all gone out but for one little lantern above the window where Claudia stood. Outside, it was pitch black. But as the boat tumbled from side to side, plates and glasses and cutlery crashing and smashing everywhere, Riley knew what was happening.

Pedro might have changed course, but the storm had changed course with them.

Pedro. He must’ve been in his cabin trying to steer this thing clear. Or maybe he’d gone overboard. Fuck‌—‌who knew? Who the fuck knew anymore?

“Hold on!” Riley shouted to Claudia and Chloë. It was all he could think to say, even though they were gripping on tightly to the railings above the room. His voice was drowned out anyway by the water, crashing against the side of the boat, battering the foundations of their new home. Water rained down on him from the ceiling. It must’ve been cracked. It must’ve been fucking cracked. It was going to flood. They were going to drown.

Riley, on his hands and knees, crawled over to where Anna lay. She was completely still. She had a large red bruise forming on her head, a bit of blood seeping out. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. He needed to wake her up. He needed to have her ready for the next step. Whatever they were going to do. Pedro would know. They’d all figure something out.

Another bash to the left hand side of the boat sent Riley crashing against the wall again.

Fuck. What were they going to do? What was going to happen?

“Anna!” Riley shouted. He shook her and shook her and shook her. She had to wake up. She couldn’t sleep through this. She’d…‌‌she’d fall underwater, and she’d die. “Anna, please‌—‌”

He heard a cracking in his right ear. An intense, huge cracking noise, like knives and forks slicing and sliding against one another.

It must be the window, he thought. Must be the window. The window must have‌—‌

He didn’t get to finish his trail of thoughts, because a heavy thump smacked him on the right side of his head, swallowed him up completely, dragged him away.

He tried to grip onto something as the water washed him out of the boat, out to sea. He tried to breathe but he couldn’t. He was surrounded in pitch black. He didn’t know where to go or what to do or what to…‌

Another sharp blast to the side of his head.

After that, blackness.

Chapter Two

A sharp, pulsating feeling right across his head.

He couldn’t breathe. He was trapped. He was trapped and he couldn’t breathe and he‌—‌

His eyes opened inadvertently. He coughed and spluttered, rolling onto his side on the hard, wet ground. Where was he? It was pitch black. The wind was blowing against him, so cold and so strong and damp. He clambered onto his hands and knees and, when he’d finished spluttering up the fluid from his lungs, he looked up.

No wonder he was damp. He was on a beach.

The water, that he’d originally taken as a shower of rain, was spray from the sea. The hardness beneath him was from the rocks, little pebbles digging into his body. He squinted out at sea. Squinted into the darkness, which was only illuminated by the light from the three-quarter moon and the stars above. How had he ended up here? What the fuck had happened?

He remembered. Remembered the boat, swaying from side to side, battered by the sea. He remembered Claudia and Chloë holding onto one another for dear life. He remembered Anna.

Anna. Unconscious. In danger.

After that, he remembered nothing.

He tried to rise to his feet, but as he did, he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his thigh. He yelped and fell back down onto the rocks. Shit. That much pain couldn’t be a good thing. He must’ve broken it.

He looked down at his leg and right away, he realised it wasn’t a break.

A piece of metal shrapnel, about half the size of his hand, was poking out of his thigh. The shrapnel had a red, rusty tinge. A piece of the boat. A piece of the boat was actually stuck inside him.

He looked away, the cold sea wind battering against him as he shivered on the beach. Fuck. He needed to get rid of the shrapnel. If he wanted to get anywhere, he’d have to get rid of it.

But then what? What happened when he got rid of it? He was stuck out here. He was stuck, all alone. The boat…‌‌he couldn’t see a trace of it on this beach or out at sea, excluding the piece in his leg. Besides, he had no idea how long ago the accident happened. It could have been hours. Days, even.

Riley closed his eyes and took in a deep, shaking breath. Whatever happened from this point onwards, he needed to deal with the shrapnel in his leg. He wasn’t going to just roll over and die here. He couldn’t allow that to happen to him. Not after how far he’d come. Not after how hard he’d worked to stay alive.

Not after all the decisions he’d had to make. The decisions he’d lived with. He didn’t want those to be the decisions he died with.

He gripped the metal shrapnel. Just doing so sent a sharp twinge of pain right up his thigh.
Calm it. Deep breaths. You can do this. Come on. You can do it. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath in…‌

He tugged at the shrapnel with a slight bit of pressure and immediately let go. The pain was so intense. He could feel it edging out of his leg, unplugging a waterfall of blood with every slight movement. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was going to have to do it quick. He was going to have to…‌

His thoughts were interrupted. Behind the crashing sound of the wave in front of him, and behind the wind whirring in his ears, he heard something.

At first, he thought it must’ve just been his imagination. His mind had an annoying knack of playing tricks on him, even on the boat.

He turned around. The sound definitely came from behind. There were trees to his left; a small mountain, of sorts, completely black in the death of night. To his right, more pebbles, then a cliff, and then…‌

Oh shit. Shit.

Over to his right, a few hundred feet into the distance, he could see movement. Two people. Maybe three. All of them staggering down the rocks in front of a large, iron gate.

All of them staggering in Riley’s direction.

All of them groaning.

Riley’s insides churned up. It had been a while since he’d been on land with the creatures. It had been a while, but not long enough. And now here he was, at the bottom of a hill with a piece of shrapnel stuck in his leg.

Fuck. He had to get away. He had to think. Fast.

He started to stumble up the hilly pebbled beach but immediately fell to his knees. Fuck. This shrapnel, he was going to have to deal with it. He looked to his right. The creatures, although he couldn’t make out their faces, were definitely heading in his direction. And they were definitely creatures. He could never forget the sound they made, or their nonchalant, stumbling ways. A person could never forget that, not when they knew what they did when they caught up.

He took a few steadying breaths and with all his strength, he pushed himself back up again. The creatures were still one-hundred, ninety feet in the distance, but they were persistent. They’d come for him. They wouldn’t stop.