by Ryan Casey
Nothing but drift.
Sometimes, Andrew wondered if one day, someone would break out of this state. And if they could, that meant reversal of the infection was possible. It wasn’t beyond the question that it could be do-able.
But then there was the problem of the state of the bodies of the infected. Many of them had wounds that even reversal couldn’t heal. The flesh of many had rotted. After all, this was death. Life after death.
Humanity’s greatest fear is a great nothingness that follows living.
If only they realised that life after death was the biggest thing to fear after all.
It was a nice winter’s day. Andrew drifted down a high street towards woods. He wasn’t sure where his feet were taking him. He was definitely on the trail of something. He could tell by the way he was shuffling.
He moved his eyes to the right, then to the left, up at the buildings either side of him. Control over his eyes was one thing Andrew had maintained. And yet even that had a sinister twist to it. Of course he had to be aware of the living that were around him. He wanted to know when he was living his final moments before someone shot him or took him down.
But at the same time, spotting someone who didn’t know he was coming meant targeting another potential kill.
It meant tasting blood all over again.
It meant deafening screams as he tore—literally—another life apart.
It meant unavoidable guilt as he condemned someone else to this living hell.
But today, he didn’t see a soul.
He just drifted down the road, towards… well, towards whatever.
If one thing made Andrew’s condition easier, it was that he never switched off. He was always conscious in this form. No time to sleep. Just drift, wander, etcetera.
However, he’d had some strange experiences. Experiences he was sure those still living wouldn’t know about.
The quiet moments.
It was mostly when he was in the company of other undead. Always a creepy experience, for sure. But when they were alone, when they’d been travelling and drifting for a long, long time, Andrew had that feeling, sometimes.
The feeling where they all stood still. When they all went totally rigid and looked at one another.
And in those moments, he couldn’t explain the feeling he felt other than warmth in his chest.
Because it was in those silent moments that he felt like he was connecting with the dead around him.
Like they were… hell, like they were communicating.
He might be mad for thinking that way. Probably way, way off the mark. But it helped put him at ease. At least it did until one of the people—because the dead were still people—he’d been communicating with fell.
He’d made a friend a few weeks ago. An older man with a long bushy beard. He’d felt that connection. And they’d walked off together, unwittingly, no control over it. Or perhaps there was some element of control. Perhaps the virus or whatever was controlling them knew they connected together in some way, so sent them off together.
He’d walked with that man. The man he knew was gentle, somehow. The man he knew had lost people around him before losing himself. The man who wasn’t a terrifying monster, not underneath the snapping jaws and the rotting flesh, but who was just a man. A man, just like Andrew, and just like everyone else who’d fallen.
The man—who Andrew thought of as Old Bill for a reason he couldn’t explain—went chasing after a kid just a few days ago. Andrew was further back when it happened. He watched him go chasing the boy, and he knew something bad was going to happen.
He was right.
He saw the man and the woman step out and slice Old Bill’s legs away.
He saw them hacking off his arms, punching out his teeth one by one, like they were taking pleasure in what they were doing.
He saw them stabbing Old Bill everywhere, then getting their kid to join in with the torture, leaving Old Bill nothing more than a limbless head on the ground, like a spider that’d had its legs torn away.
He heard their voices, too.
“Shit. Look at his eyes! They’re going crazy!”
And that hurt Andrew more than anything because he knew Old Bill was just desperately trying to communicate, his only means of speaking lost in translation.
He was begging the people to back off.
He saw Old Bill lying there, still snapping his teeth, still trying to bite, and as he walked in their direction—unable to back away—Andrew couldn’t help seeing things from a different perspective.
Who were the real monsters?
The dead?
Or the people around them?
The people had left Old Bill on the ground. They’d left his head there, his teeth snapping, and his eyes wandering.
Andrew had walked up to him. He’d looked down into his eyes. He’d seen and felt that connection all over again. And for the first time, Andrew felt sad. But it was Old Bill’s sadness. Old Bill’s pain.
He wanted to stay by his side.
He wanted to at least put Old Bill out of his misery.
But he didn’t have a choice, so on he’d walked.
And here he was, still walking right now.
He saw movement up ahead then. At first, Andrew wasn’t sure what it was. His eyes didn’t focus as well nowadays. A vehicle? People? Or…
As he staggered closer, Andrew felt what nerves he had left tingling and building up inside.
He felt total tension at what he was looking at.
The movement had stopped. In fact, it might not have been moving at all. Just looked like it because of the sheer number.
But now that Andrew was close, he could have no doubts about what he was looking at.
He drifted towards them, inside the crowd of undead. No, not a crowd. Crowd was underplaying what this was.
This was an army.
He stepped through people of all genders, all races, all ages. He looked into the eyes of some of them, and they looked back at him. And step by step, Andrew felt that connection. He felt that sense that he was with his kind. That no matter what the monster controlling their body was going to force them to do, they were all in this together.
He stood still for hours. Days, even, as more like him were drawn towards this force of nature like a magnet.
He stood still, totally content, totally at peace, surrounded by… friends.
And then, on the fifth day, Andrew started to walk.
So too did the army around him.
They were going somewhere.
And wherever they were going, one thing was for certain.
There was going to be death.
AMY LOOKED towards the army of undead in the distance, and she swallowed a lump in her throat.
“Batten down the hatches,” she said. “They’re here.”
CHAPTER ONE
Riley looked at the sea of undead standing between his position and Mattius’ camp and he wasn’t sure what to do.
The morning sun was low, illuminating the undead horde right before him. He knew they were looking in his and Kane’s direction, some of them even heading towards them now. He knew the wise thing to do would be to run. To get the hell away from here.
But Mattius.
Mattius had Kesha.
He had to get his revenge.
He had to—
“Riley!”
Kane’s shout snapped Riley out of his trance. He looked at Kane and the sounds of the groans, the building rumble of the footsteps, the taste of death in the air, all of it came together in a sudden bolt of energy and force.
“We have to get away from here,” Kane said. “We can’t stand around here and let ourselves get torn to pieces.”
“What do you care what happens to me?”
“I care what happens to myself. Besides. I have much bigger plans for you. Now come on.”
Kane started running towards the trees, but Riley turned around again and faced the undead storming towards him, the cuf
fs still around his wrists. He saw their faces, but not as they were. He saw Jordanna’s face on one. Chloë’s face on another. He saw Anna’s face. Claudia’s face. Ted’s face.
He saw Tamara. James. Everyone. All the people he’d lost walking towards him, preparing to tear him open.
Then he saw the faces of the people back at Amy’s camp, and as much as he wanted to fight through this horde of undead, he knew he couldn’t just stay around here.
He wanted to get to Mattius—to get to Kesha—but trying to do that right now was suicide.
The creatures got within ten metres of him.
Some stumbled ahead of others.
Within seconds, they’d be on to him.
“Riley!” Kane shouted.
Riley turned around just as the over-extended arm of a woman in her mid-twenties made a lunge for him.
He turned around, away from Mattius’ camp, away from everything he’d been looking for this whole month.
And he ran into the woods.
The more he ran, the more it felt like he was being chased. Sure, he and Kane could outrun the undead. But the sheer numbers of them made this run feel like he was sprinting down one of those corridors in a nightmare where it just keeps on growing in front of you.
If they bumped into anything ahead of them, they’d be fucked.
Completely and utterly fucked.
There was no time to slow down.
There were no opportunities to take a breather.
He ran further, Kane at his side. Kane had a gun, but he didn’t seem to be too keen on using it. Probably wise. There were too many of the dead chasing them to do anything about anyway. It’d just be like swatting a wasp. They’d just make the crowd even angrier.
“So you think heading back to camp’s a good idea?”
“You can do whatever the hell you want,” Riley said. “You can stay out here for all I care. I’m going back.”
“Drawing the undead back to the place you care about so dearly? How selfless you are.”
“Fuck you,” Riley said.
He ran ahead of Kane. But as he tried to move ahead, he saw Kane lift his pistol and point it at him.
“Any sudden moves. Any attempts to get away. You know how this ends.”
He lowered the pistol and aimed it at Riley’s legs.
“A bullet in the kneecap. Then torn apart by those things. You know, I’m getting more and more tempted to just trade in my initial plan and get on with it right now.”
“Like to see you try,” Riley said.
Kane smiled, like he was genuinely enjoying all this drama. It made Riley feel sick.
They kept on running through the woods. Riley was careful to keep his footing at all times. The cuffs were still tied around his wrists behind his back, which wasn’t making his movement all that easy. Then again, Kane was missing half a hand, so they were both at a disadvantage, in a sense.
“I say we take a left,” Kane said. “Try to zigzag and lose them.”
“Zigzagging just loses us ground. Best thing to do’s just power forward.”
“I’m the one holding the gun, remember?”
“And I’m the one who has you in a cell. A cell that you’re going back into as soon as we get back to camp. If I’m that lenient with you.”
Kane’s eyes narrowed and twitched. “Don’t push your luck. Don’t you dare—”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me?”
“I can think of ways to—”
“Quit the bullshit about how you’re going to kill me in horrible ways. If you were going to do it, you’d have done it already. Nah, I think you like me being alive. Maybe it’s something you see in me. Maybe you respect the fact that I’ve kept on bouncing back. Or that I’ve kept you alive. I don’t know what it is. But I know you’ve had lots of chances to pull that trigger and still you—”
Riley heard the blast. And for a second, as a splitting pain spread through his right ear, Riley was convinced he’d been shot.
But then as the seconds passed, the pain faded, his ear still ringing.
Kane had the gun pointed just to the left of Riley’s head.
“I’m not afraid to pull the trigger,” he said. “And if you don’t shut up, I’ll make it a few inches to the right next time. You might think you’re special, Riley. And you’re right. I’m having fun watching you collapse. But you are not special. There were many before you, and there will be many after you. For now, just be grateful you’re still alive. Because if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be.”
Riley increased his pace again. He could still hear the undead behind, but they sounded much further away now. A stitch crippled his chest, and he was glad for a bit of ground on the creatures. “You know the way back to camp?”
Kane smiled. “See? You need me more than you th…”
Kane didn’t finish speaking.
His face dropped.
His skin went grey.
His eyes widened as he focused on something right ahead.
“What is it?” Riley asked.
Kane lifted a finger to his lips.
“Kane, what…”
He didn’t finish what he was saying.
He didn’t have to, because he heard the groan.
Then more groans.
Then footsteps.
He looked ahead and he saw what was right in front of them.
Another wall of creatures.
Another, just as thick as the one chasing them.
Then more to the left.
And more to the right.
“We’re surrounded,” Riley said, as more of the creatures closed in, filling in the gaps—the potential escape routes—rapidly. “We’re fucking surrounded.”
CHAPTER TWO
Amy watched the trees rustle in the distance as the army of undead approached and she knew they didn’t have long until they arrived.
The sky had clouded over and greyed, much like the ground would grey when the undead graced this place with their presence. Specks of rain fell from above, the sun hidden now behind the thickening cloud. As Amy stood atop the highest point of their wall, she could definitely see movement right ahead. She could smell the rot growing in the air. She could even taste it, clogging at the back of her throat.
And despite all of the threats heading their way, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder—and worry—about Riley’s fate.
“You sure about this?”
Amy looked to her right. Melissa was standing beside her. Melissa was something of an unofficial second-in-command to Amy. Unofficial, because technically in their group, there wasn’t supposed to be any kind of real hierarchy. Just total equality. Of course, Amy took the position and the responsibility as leader. But she explicitly expressed that it was only to create someone to look to, and that should ever enough people around her doubt her ability to lead, she would happily step down. She’d even be willing to discuss issues smaller groups of people in her camp had with her role, her way of going about things. And there had been discussions lately, especially since Riley and Kane had come to town.
But none of those discussions had ended in violence. They’d got heated. There had been tension. But always—always—peaceful resolution was reached.
Amy was feeling her way around this leadership role. But as things stood, her methods seemed like they were working.
Why fix something if it isn’t broken?
“All we can do is make sure the walls are solid. Make sure every single crack in this place is covered. And then lay low.”
Melissa tilted her head to one side when Amy said those last words.
“Laying low bothers you,” Amy said. “Doesn’t it?”
“I just think it’s risky.”
“You heard what Stef said. There’s more of those monsters coming this way than we can deal with.”
“We could at least send a few teams out. Distract a few of the zombies. I mean, they’re like sheep. If there really are loads, we can distract a few and many will
follow. At least that’ll lower the load on this place.”
Amy shook her head. “It’s too risky.”
“So is staying here and just waiting for them to arrive. How do you know they won’t just force their way through those fences and kill the lot of us?”
Amy didn’t, in truth. But she couldn’t bear the thought of losing any of her people on some risky mission. Now wasn’t the time to take chances. Sure, that might sound cowardly, and maybe it was. But the main thing right now—like during any storm—was to just lay low. To brave the siege out. Eventually, their enemy would find something else to move on to. Their attentions would be diverted elsewhere. The storm clouds would pass.
“Do you not worry about Riley?” Melissa asked. “About Kane?”
Her questions threw Amy off. She wasn’t expecting her to address Riley or Kane to her, not again. But she wasn’t in a mood to lie. “I care as much as I respect Riley. For what he did for Chloë. For the love he has for Kesha. Kane… I couldn’t give a shit about Kane. He can rot out there.”
“But if Riley’s with Kane, shouldn’t we—”
“They left the walls,” Amy said. “Now I don’t know how it went down or who made that decision, but they left, and now they’re on their own out there. Whatever happens to them, whatever might’ve already happened to them… that can’t be on us.”
“But it is on us,” Melissa said.
She lowered her head and Amy sensed she was hiding something.
“Melissa? What is it?”
“I was counting my arrows,” Melissa said. “I always keep them together. But I was one down.”
Amy felt her stomach sink. “Melissa. That doesn’t mean—”
“I didn’t think much of it at first. Not until I went back to my room after Kane and Riley disappeared and found the arrow snapped in half at the foot of my bed. I didn’t see it when I first woke. But he must’ve… he must’ve used the arrow to get out somehow. I must’ve dropped it when I was in there with him. But the thought he was in my room. He was in my room and despite everything he said, he’d rather me find that arrow than kill me, like he promised he would do. Like he’d rather I suffered for what I did—suffered from guilt—than put me through it himself. He’s a fucking monster. And I feel so responsible that Riley’s out there with him right now.”