Dead Days: Season Four (Dead Days Zombie Apocalypse Series Book 4)

by Ryan Casey

  “I’m sorry,” Pedro said, eyes drifting. “I just … I made a promise.”

  “To Tamara?”

  “To myself,” Pedro snapped. His cheeks flushed. “I’d go down with the sinkin’ ship. I’m sick of all this speculative bullshit. This looking for an answer to save the world, y’know? I’m sick of movin’ around. And if it means staying here stuck in this apartment while the streets turns to shit outside then so be it. That’s where it ends for me.”

  Riley didn’t recognise the Pedro saying the words, but he had an idea where he’d come from. Something had happened with Tamara’s son. Before he reached the Living Zone. Something had happened out on the road, too, when Pedro and Tamara had gone out to deal with the threat of the guy called “Cameron” and his group two months ago.

  It’d cost Tamara two fingers on her left hand.

  He’d been different since then. He didn’t talk much about the future. Just the now. About making the most of every moment. About being tired of running.

  Pedro reached back into his room, being sure to keep the door pushed to slightly, and returned with a pistol in his hand.

  “Woah,” Riley said. “How did—”

  Pedro shoved it towards Riley’s chest. “Take it. Least I can do for you.”

  Riley took hold of it. Looked up at Pedro as he held the gun, like it was some kind of alien object. “Where did you get this?”

  Pedro forced a smile. “Same place you got that nifty machete. Come on, bruv. You really think I’d have those pricks take all my guns away from me?”

  Riley put the gun in his pocket. Nodded at Pedro.

  “I’m sorry,” Pedro said. He kept his eyes on Riley this time. “I really am sorry.”

  Riley shook his head. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  He turned away from Pedro and started his walk down the well-lit corridor.

  “Good luck,” Pedro said.

  Riley tried his best to keep his head up, to look confident and self-assured even though he was bricking it inside. “You’ll know if I’ve succeeded,” he said.

  “How?”

  Riley turned around. Smiled. “Another new normal will come along again.”

  Pedro let out a forced laugh. Kept his eyes on Riley. Gulped so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed.

  He nodded at Riley.

  Riley nodded back at him.

  And then he turned around and walked down the corridor towards the staircase.

  Alone.

  ***

  Chloë peeked out of the curtains and saw the monsters coming down the street and she knew she’d done something terrible.

  “Come away from there, Chlo. Don’t want them seeing you.”

  Jordanna was bossing her about. Pretending she was her mum or something. Chloë once told her to get her own daughter, but Jordanna didn’t take nicely to that and besides, Chloë felt really bad after saying it because Jordanna was good to her.

  She wondered if something had happened to Jordanna in the past. Something to do with a daughter.

  She never wanted to ask because she could never be sure whether it would make Jordanna angry or not.

  The noises of the alarms were loud and annoying. Although it was warm inside the flat because of how Jordanna always turned up the radiators to full blast, Chloë was shivering. She’d been shivering ever since she’d come back from Dr Wellingborough’s office a while ago.

  Ever since she’d crept back inside, without Jordanna even noticing as she snored away.

  Got back in bed.

  Cried herself to sleep at what she’d seen. What she’d done.

  What she’d run away from.

  Chloë stepped away from the window and looked at Jordanna. Jordanna was wearing her black bra and panties. Her skin looked smooth except for the scar on her lower back that Chloë didn’t like to ask about. She beat some numbers into the phone. Bit her nails. Cursed and threw the phone back down as the annoying noises went on, as the shouts sounded outside.

  “What’s … what’s happening?” Chloë asked. Although she knew exactly what was happening. She knew what had caused it to happen.

  Her own stupidity.

  Jordanna looked at Chloë. “The zombies have found their way in somehow. Fuckers. Come over here.”

  Chloë didn’t budge. Her heart raced. She felt sick. She thought about Tiffany. About what she’d told her. Don’t tell your parents about this. Don’t tell them what happened with Annabelle. What we did. Or they’ll kick us out. They’ll kick us out and leave us to die.

  “Chloë, come here,” Jordanna said. She patted the side of her bed. “No point standing around. Doubt this is gonna be wrapped up in no time. Might as well take a seat while the guards deal with—”

  A loud scream outside.

  The sound of flesh being torn from someone’s body.

  Memories of Annabelle’s terrified face as she lay there on Dr. Wellingborough’s office floor, as the monsters from the room wriggled on top of her, one of them biting her face and her body.

  Chloë walked over to Jordanna. Sat beside her. Went rigid when Jordanna wrapped an arm around her, pulled her close.

  “You scared?” she asked.

  Chloë shook her head. “I … They’ll deal with them. The guards. Won’t they?”

  Jordanna scruffed up her hair roughly like she always did when she was lying to Chloë. “Course they will. Course they will. Don’t you worry.”

  Chloë wasn’t convinced.

  As she sat there on the edge of the bed, she thought back to the feelings she’d felt when she’d watched the monsters sink their teeth into Annabelle. She remembered feeling shocked. Scared. Stupid.

  But then there was something else, too.

  There was a relief.

  A weight lifting from her shoulders.

  Because Tiffany was hers now. All hers.

  And she’d be hers forever because they both knew the truth, both knew the secret, both knew what they’d done.

  “How about we play a game of—”

  “I don’t play games anymore,” Chloë said.

  Jordanna tilted her head. “Well, that sounds like a good game. How do you play it?”

  Chloë looked at Jordanna. Frowned.

  Jordanna sighed and shook her head.

  Chloë knew that Jordanna found her hard work. She’d heard her saying it once to a few of the other residents and neighbours. But if that was true, Chloë didn’t get why Jordanna had to pretend she was her mum all the time. Because she wasn’t. She was just someone she’d walked to the MLZ with. Someone who’d been there for her.

  She was nice, yes. She liked her. Loved her, even.

  But she wasn’t her mum.

  And the more Jordanna pretended to be her mum, the more Chloë felt like walking away.

  Walking away and looking for her dad.

  She got off the edge of the bed. Crept back over to the window. Jordanna didn’t even try to stop her this time.

  She stopped by the window, peeked through a crack in the curtains. Looked at the flashing blue lights outside that lit up the street, lit up the monsters as they wandered around, blood dripping from their mouths.

  She thought about her dad. About what might have happened to him. About whether he might be alive, somehow. Because she didn’t know. She had no way of finding out. She’d asked Jordanna if she could go look for him once, but Jordanna had done that thing—ruffled her hair, told her one day they could.

  They never did.

  She looked over at the apartment across the street. The one where Riley and Pedro and Tamara stayed. The one where Annabelle used to live. She’d tried to escape the MLZ a few times. Tried to do a runner. Because she was strong. She’d survived outside the walls on her own before, she could do it again.

  But every time she got close to the gates, every time she got so, so close to making her way out, she thought of Tiffany.

  Of how much she wanted to be with her all the time.

  Of the warm feeling
s she gave her inside.

  Chloë wondered how Tiffany was doing right now as she stood by the window. Wondered how she was coping with what they’d done. What they’d seen. Whether she’d be upset.

  Whether she’d want Chloë to hold her hand …

  And then she saw someone stepping out of the apartment block at the other side of the road.

  She didn’t recognise him at first. Just that it was a man with a sword and a gun dressed all in black. Dark hair. Swinging his sword at a monster as it threw itself at him.

  Slicing its head off, sending it tumbling to the floor.

  A spark ignited inside Chloë.

  Riley.

  She saw he was going to the right. Going down the street. And he looked dressed ready to fight.

  Fear began to well up inside her.

  What if he was going to the doctor’s office?

  What if he found out what Chloë had done?

  She had to get away. She had to get Tiffany and she had to escape.

  She couldn’t let Jim Hall find out what she’d done to his city. He’d never forgive her. Never.

  “What you looking at, Chlo?”

  Jordanna’s voice made Chloë jump. She looked around at Jordanna. “Nothing, just …”

  When she turned back, she could see Riley even further up the street, still knocking the monsters back with his sword.

  Still heading towards the doctor’s.

  “Riley’s out there. Can we … can we help him?”

  Jordanna was silent and still at first.

  “What … what do you mean Riley’s …”

  “See. He’s out there. He’s doing something.”

  Chloë heard Jordanna step off the bed. Walk over to the curtains. She peeked through too. She looked surprised. Her cheeks were a bit red and her eyes were watery. She was weird around Riley. She hated him, but she was weirdly obsessed with him too. Always asked if Chloë had seen him. Always.

  “Can we help him?” Chloë asked.

  Jordanna’s lips quivered. The scar above her top lip stood out in the glow of the blue lights outside.

  “No,” she said. “His funeral.”

  She turned away and walked back towards the bed.

  Chloë was about to protest when the lights inside the room went out.

  The sirens stopped. The alarms stopped. The flashing blue lights stopped, too.

  She was plunged into complete darkness, complete silence.

  She stayed still. Stayed quiet. Couldn’t hear anything but the thumping of her heart.

  And then she saw the door of the apartment block across the street click open.

  Saw the door of her apartment block do the same.

  “What … Chloë? What’s happening out there?”

  Chloë watched as the monsters, blurred in the darkness, waddled down the road, more of them than she first thought.

  Watched as they made their way to the open apartment block doors.

  She heard a series of clicks.

  One of them from the door of their own flat.

  Felt the breeze from the darkened corridor.

  She looked around but she could barely see. She saw Jordanna’s figure move over to the door, try to slam it shut, but it wouldn’t stay locked.

  She heard more people trying to slam their doors shut in the other flats, in the other apartments, all down the street.

  “It’s not … it’s not shutting.”

  And then Chloë looked back out of the window and saw the monsters entering the apartment block across the street.

  Saw them entering her apartment block.

  Heard the screams starting downstairs.

  And then heard the throaty, creepy groans inside the apartment as she stood there in the darkness.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Over two months without hand-to-hand combat and Riley was feeling rusty.

  He pushed back the creature with the decaying, drooping face that approached from his right. Swung the machete at its head, but didn’t quite make clean contact so had to swing it again.

  The creature tumbled to the ground, blood drooling out of its cracked skull, still shrieking and groaning.

  Riley swung at it again.

  The second blow was enough to obliterate its brain.

  He stepped away. Took a few heavy breaths as he stood there in the darkness. His heart pounded. Being stuck inside this black protective gear, his body was warm even though he could see his breath clouding in front of him.

  He squinted down Main Central Street. Squinted at the doctor’s surgery right in the distance.

  Saw the open door in front of the surgery, the creatures gathered around it. A woman with long black hair. A man with a turban still clinging to his head that Riley swore used to go in the pub on a Sunday.

  People he recognised.

  People who he’d spoken to. Smiled at. Chatted with.

  With a click of his fingers, turned into creatures.

  Worse than dead.

  He heard movement and gasping behind him. He turned around. Saw four creatures all stumbling in his direction, the front two faster than the others. He couldn’t make out their faces from here, but he was surprised and pleasantly relieved that only four were coming his way.

  The creatures outside the apartment block as he’d left … there was definitely more than four.

  Which posed the question: where had the others gone?

  The alarms and the blue lights stopping all of a sudden, too. He didn’t like that.

  He felt sickly inside as he thought about Pedro, about Tamara. About Alan, Chloë, even Jordanna.

  He hoped to God they’d be okay.

  That they wouldn’t do anything stupid.

  That they’d just stay inside their rooms. Because that was the only way they’d pull through.

  He heard a shout the other side of the road over by the doctor’s surgery. Saw a man sprinting along in front of the surgery. He was half-naked, still in his boxer shorts. Sprinting across the road as a group of six creatures pursued him. What was he doing out of his room?

  Riley watched. He wanted to just stay there. Use the guy as a distraction. As bait so he could easily enter through the doctor’s surgery.

  But he wasn’t that man anymore. He knew what the fear felt like. The fear that your life was just going to slip away without a moment’s notice.

  He’d experienced the closest thing to death on several occasions in his lifetime, and he was going to experience the real thing if he didn’t get himself to that doctor’s surgery, get the research on the cure from Dr Wellingborough, and get the hell out of here and on to Birmingham.

  He ignored the creatures coming his way down the street and he jogged through the centre of the road. It made him more exposed, but he didn’t want to run in the shadows. A creature could be waiting in there to pursue him. He’d seen how they’d progressed. How the infection had taken on a life, an intelligence, of its own.

  He’d seen how they were adapting, and he didn’t want to take his chances.

  He knew how important his survival was.

  But the survival of wider humanity was even more important.

  “Hey!” he shouted, as he approached the crowd of creatures chasing after the naked, dark-haired man.

  Three of them turned around. Two nearer the front slowed down, looked around like they’d heard someone calling their name but couldn’t place where from.

  One of them kept on chasing the dark-haired man, who stumbled and shook and screamed as he fled.

  Riley watched the three creatures who paid a special interest in him pick up their pace.

  Get closer to him, quiet, nimble.

  He lifted his machete.

  Held his breath.

  Swung at the neck of the first one the second it reached him.

  He took its head clean off, which he would’ve been proud of if he’d had the time to be.

  The second creature jumped at him, so he stuck the machete through its chest, felt
the cold, dark blood spill out onto his hands and splash his face.

  He pushed the creature back. He couldn’t smell decaying, so he assumed this one—a dreadlocked woman—was freshly bitten.

  He pushed her to the road and slammed the machete through her eyes.

  He felt guilt having to do so as he watched the blood pool out from her head. Because if he had a cure—if he had the capability inside him to turn everyone back to normal—then he was executing people who had a chance.

  Sure, the people who’d have died anyway whether through blood loss or severity of wound, they weren’t going to be getting up and walking around again.

  But the people who didn’t have severe wounds … people who’d just been bitten on the wrist, or the ankle. What about them?

  How did the cure even work?

  He was stopped in his thoughts by a pressure on his left shoulder.

  He looked and saw a bald bloke who used to be called Harry sinking his teeth into his black protective gear.

  Riley tried to swing at him but his teeth were getting stronger, clamping on like a vice grip.

  He felt a wave of panic.

  Pulled the pistol Pedro had given him out of his pocket.

  Fired Harry in his head, sent his skull fragments raining to the concrete below.

  The gunshot echoed in Riley’s ears. Echoed against the buildings, the high-rise flats, bounced all down the streets louder than anything else.

  He looked around. Looked down the roads, past the derelict marketplace on Main Central Street. Up to where he swore the half-naked man had run off to.

  Empty.

  But he could feel them watching him.

  Feel them closing in on him.

  Getting closer and closer and closer …

  He gulped and put his gun back in his pocket. Checked his shoulders. Harry had almost bitten right through. Another second, another half a second, and he’d have another bite to go with his collection of two.

  He breathed out a shaky whistle, walked up to the steps of the doctor’s surgery and made his way to the open door at the front.

  Stepped through the blood on the steps.

  Stepped into the darkness.

  Dr Wellingborough’s surgery was quiet. There was a coppery smell to the air. A smell Riley had encountered a lot of times in his days outside the walls of the MLZ.