Dead Days: The Complete Season Two Collection (40 page)

“You can tell us while we walk,” Chris said.

And then, as the goons continued to march in their direction, the five of them walked down the street of abandoned houses and boarded-up shops and towards whatever future lay ahead of them.

All the while, Pedro couldn’t stop himself pondering Chris’s question.

Who are you?

Who was Pedro, after all? Who was he?

She kept her head down, right against the edge of the window, just like her mum had told her to.

Before her mum had been shot. Before it had all happened.

Chloë was completely still as she lay on her belly in the abandoned children’s holiday home opposite Heathwaite’s Caravan Park. She’d just about managed to run across the road when the creatures came and ate Mike and Seth. She wasn’t sure what happened to Matt. She didn’t get a chance to see. Not after she shot.

She clenched the pistol in her hands and kept it pointed out of the window. The bottom of the gun had gone warm and sweaty from where she’d been holding it so tightly for so long. She’d gripped onto it like she used to grip onto her teddy bear when she was scared of the monsters under her bed. When Elizabeth used to tickle her feet and pretend to be the boogeymonster.

She bit her teeth into her lips and watched as the creatures, all hundred and hundreds of them, flooded in through the gates of the caravan site where the bad man Rodrigo had captured her. She could see people running away. People screaming and tripping over. Some of the people tried to fight back, but they always fell over. There were too many creatures. They pressed against the glass windows of the building with the swimming pool. There were too many to deal with.

She kept still. Kept still and kept tight hold of her gun. Tried not to listen to the screams, like Mum used to tell her.
Just imagine you’re in a film, Chloë. Imagine you’re in a film, or on a roller coaster.

“Okay, Mum,” Chloë whispered, keeping still as creatures sank their teeth into the neck of a young woman, tearing her throat from her body. “Okay, Mum.”

She knew her mum was underneath those creatures somewhere. Or maybe they’d eat her and she’d come back as one of them. People seemed to be really scared of this happening to them, especially the grown-ups. But why? Why was it any different to dying the normal way? Creatures still went to heaven, didn’t they? Or when they were bitten, did their souls die too? Would there be creature souls in heaven?

She tasted salt in her mouth. A salty taste that reminded her of all the times her little sister had teased her in school. All the times she’d shown her up in front of her friends. All the times she’d hid in the bathroom and cried and cried and cried.
Big nose, Chloë!
they’d chant. Susie. Becca. Chloë wondered if they’d be dead or alive. In a way, she kind of hoped they were walking round as ugly creatures now.

She looked down at the necklace dangling from her neck. The heart-shaped locket was covered with blood. Her mum’s blood. The necklace was so pretty. A special early Christmas treat. Just like the one Anna had‌—‌

Chloë’s stomach churned. The memory replayed in her head. She’d pointed her gun at the creature coming towards her, just like the bad man Rodrigo when he hurt her mum, and she fired.

But the bullet missed. It missed and it hit Anna. But Anna would know it was an accident, wouldn’t she? Riley would know it was an accident.

Anna. Riley. They’d disappeared. They were gone.

She looked around at the broken glass surrounding the window. There was red graffiti on the walls with words she didn’t understand like “cunt” and lots of things like phone numbers. A cold breeze blew in through the window, making her teeth chatter right on impact. She heard more screams. More screams from the caravan site. More struggling. More ripping and tearing of flesh as more and more creatures invaded the gates, like animals did when they were really hungry.

She kept a tight grip of the gun. Took a deep breath in. Looked at the locket.

It’ll be okay, Chloë. I’m here with you. You aren’t alone. I promise.

“I know, Mum,” Chloë said. “I know you’re here.”

The salty taste of her tears returned to her freezing cold lips.

It was dark when Riley finally decided to stop for rest.

He’d been walking in circles for hours and getting nowhere. The cold really was intense. It surrounded him, freezing him right down to his bones as he backed up against a tree at the side of the path up the Arnside Knott and curled his hands over his knees. He tucked his chin down, keeping his eyes on the darkness around him. He heard things‌—‌things moving in the forest around him, screams in the distance. He heard, but he kept still. That was the only way he was going to survive now. Keep still and wait.

As he peered into the darkness, shivering as pain and fatigue writhed through his body, he figured this was the first time he’d slept out in the wild‌—‌truly out in the wild‌—‌since the start of the Dead Days. Sure, there was the night by the train tracks with Claudia, Anna, Ted, Elizabeth and Chloë, but that was indoors. That was under shelter. This…‌‌this was different. And there was the night when the boat crashed on the Silverdale shore, but even then Pedro looked out for him while he was unconscious.

He shivered. Rubbed his hands together. Listened to the sound of the tree branches brushing in the breeze; the sounds of footsteps‌—‌animals, hopefully. Just animals. He listened, and he let the fear of his situation truly engulf him. He was alone, for the first time since the start of the Dead Days. Truly alone. This was survival. Real survival.

He reached into his pocket slowly, keeping his eyes on the darkness around him. He wished he had a lighter‌—‌just something like that to start a fire and keep warm. Not that he could start fires anyway. He’d probably end up setting the whole fucking woods on fire if he lit it. No, he was spending tonight alone, cold, tired, totally terrified. He was spending tonight in darkness. He couldn’t risk falling asleep because it might just be the final time.

He rubbed the tip of his thumb against the locket in his pocket and tucked his chin further into his knees. He wished Anna was here. He wished Ted was here. He wished they were here with him to at least pass the time. To at least sit with, make jokes with, cuddle up with. He imagined the warmth of Anna’s hand in his. The smell of Ted’s sweat after all this walking up this hill he’d done today. He imagined all these little things and slowly, he felt slightly more comfortable.

But all that crumbled away when his last memories of them invaded his thoughts.

No. Don’t think of them that way. Think of the good times. The happy times.

Ivan’s knife sliding against Ted’s throat.

The fear in Ted’s bulging eyes as thick, dark blood spewed out of his neck.

Riley pressed his chin harder into his knees. No. Don’t fucking think this way. Don’t fucking‌—‌

Claudia’s brains being blown out.

Blood oozing out of the side of Anna’s head, her eyes growing more and more vacant…‌

“No!” Riley mumbled to himself. His muscles tensed. His heart thumped. “No, no, no, no.” His speech was out of control. He wanted to shout. He wanted to scream.

He probably would have if it wasn’t for the footsteps rustling up the path, getting closer and closer and closer.

He stopped shouting. The footsteps were definitely just that‌—‌footsteps. His tensed muscles froze. He squinted in the direction of the footsteps but he couldn’t see a thing. He listened closer. Sniffed. Tried to pick out the familiar stench of rotting flesh. Tried to taste the damp, stomach-churning odours stagnating from their bodies.

He didn’t smell it right away, but when he did, it was already too late to run.

There was a small group of creatures staggering up the path just a few feet away from Riley. Riley kept as still as he could, staring at the dark silhouettes barely lit by the stars. He tried not to cough or gasp at the smell of off-milk mixed with shit that they gave off. Tried not to retch at the sound of the flies buzzing around them like they did shit. He just kept still, backed up against that tree, and watched. Watched and hoped. Watched and prayed.

For a few minutes‌—‌or maybe it was just seconds, but it certainly felt longer to Riley‌—‌the creatures just drifted forward in this little team of theirs, barely groaning, barely grumbling. They walked in complete silence, like they had a place to go, like they knew where they were going. As Riley stared at the creatures, he gripped hold of Anna’s necklace and locket tightly.
Please don’t notice me. Please.

They probably wouldn’t have noticed Riley if it wasn’t for a branch from the tree beside him dropping to the ground.

All of the creatures stopped. They turned around. Stared into the darkness, their eyes blackened by the lack of light. They held their stare for a few seconds. Held their pose. Held their silence.

And then, the creature at the front of the group groaned, and they all started to move in Riley’s direction.

Riley backed up against the tree. His muscles were too frozen‌—‌his body was too stiff‌—‌for him to do anything about it. He listened as the buzzing of the flies got closer. Listened as the groans‌—‌male groans, female groans‌—‌got within a few feet. He gripped the necklace tightly.

And then something else happened. Something else out of his control, out of nowhere.

The path in front of Riley started to get lighter.

The creatures turned away from the distraction of Riley and looked at the light on the ground.

“Small group of fuckers up ahead,” a man’s gruff voice said.

Riley watched as the light‌—‌which was presumably from a torch‌—‌got closer to the creatures, five of them. He shuffled around the large, rough tree, peeking from beside it as the creatures groaned in the direction of the light and the person with the light’s footsteps ran towards the creatures.

Then, he heard a clunk, and something like a tennis ball cracking. A sound he’d grown to know as the sound of a skull splitting.

Two men and a woman, all of them carrying heavy metal baseball bats, smacked their weapons into the creatures and knocked them to the ground. They hit the creatures in their heads, but also their chests and their legs and their arms. One of the men‌—‌wearing a hoodie‌—‌stuck his hand into the dead creature’s closed mouth, grinning to his two companions, like it was some kind of dare.

“Don’t fuck about like that,” the woman in the baggy trackie bottoms said, smacking him around the head.

“I’ll fuck about how I want,” the man said. He brought an expensive looking gold watch around his knuckles. With it, he punched the fallen creature in its mouth. The sound of glass and teeth cracking echoed through the area.

Riley kept himself behind the tree. His heart pounded. He wanted to go up to those people and ask them for help. But there was something about them. Something about the way they smiled‌—‌the way they joked as they mutilated the creatures with smiles on their faces…‌‌it wasn’t right. Besides, Riley didn’t recognise them from Heathwaite’s. They could be anyone. They could’ve been through and done anything.

The group kicked the static, rigid bodies of the creatures down the side of the hill.

“Fuckin’ waste of a watch, Kellett,” the lanky guy‌—‌also hooded‌—‌said.

“Shouldn’t ‘ave a problem finding another.”

The three of them laughed, punched one another, then jogged off up the path in the light of their heavy duty torch.

Riley waited a few seconds before emerging from the tree. He looked up the path. He could still just about see the light in the distance.

He tightened his grip around the locket.

He wasn’t going to join them.

He was going to wait until they stopped to rest and he was going to take their torch from them.

He took a deep breath and walked up the pathway, slushy from the blood of the fallen creatures.

This might not be a world of “take what you want.” But it was certainly a world of “take what you need.”

Chapter Three

Pedro held his chapped hands over the fire. The closer he looked at its crackling orange flow, the more and more he felt like he was back in his garden at Heathwaite’s, or back in the barracks, or back before the barracks when things were…‌‌well. Better than this.

Instead, he was outside. Outside in the middle of nowhere. Except the middle of nowhere was somewhere for creatures.

“You okay, Pedro?”

Chris appeared at the other side of the fire. He breathed into his hands then rubbed them together, warming them in the heat of the fire.

“I’m alright,” Pedro said. “A bit tired. But alright.”

“Decent fire you’ve started,” Chris said. “Finally get to make the most of it now Barry’s taking over watch.”

Pedro nodded as the heat of the fire kissed his skin, dreading stepping away from it and returning to the cold. By the side of the fire, Tamara and the boy, Josh, lay underneath a thick wooly blanket. Both of them had their eyes closed. Pedro wasn’t sure how. Maybe they hadn’t seen the things he’d seen.

“I miss camping,” Chris said. He leaned back. Stared into the stars above the building they were atop. They’d thought about going inside, but figured they were too tired to deal with the threat of any more creatures today. Safer just to sit on top of the building, start a fire providing the surface was inflammable‌—‌rocks and stones confirmed it was. Better to stay warm and on high ground for a night. Better, but not ideal.

“You a big camper before all this?” Pedro asked.

Chris laughed. “No. Not at all. Went on a few holidays here and there. It’s what I was doing when all this…‌‌when it happened. Taking a winter break in a Lancaster caravan. Last damn break I’d ever end up taking.”

Chris stared into the fire. Pedro thought about asking about a wife and kids, but he figured the fact that he was alone and the fact he hadn’t mentioned them spoke volumes.

“What about you? Where were you when all this went down? I know you were an army guy, but what brought you to Silverdale?”

Pedro took in a deep breath. The smell of firewood and the crackle of the burning reminded him of all his training exercises he’d been on with the army. All the survival courses he’d taken, and how, despite feeling so physically spent‌—‌so psychologically knackered‌—‌he’d felt whole. Like it was where he belonged. Except this wasn’t a training exercise or a survival course. This was survival. He had to keep reminding himself that from time to time.