Dead Days Zombie Apocalypse Series (Season 7)

by Ryan Casey

  Kane reached down to his side. Felt Spud’s warmth rising up into the air.

  “See, I know you aren’t dead, Spud. I know you aren’t dead because I didn’t shoot you. I didn’t hit you. So we can both stop pretending now, okay?”

  The longer the seconds drew on, the more Spud’s fakery started to reveal itself. Kane heard him gasping for breath. Saw tears rolling from his eyes. He heard his teeth clicking together as he lay there, shaking.

  Kane rolled Spud onto his back, a move that made Spud’s eyes bolt open right away.

  He wasn’t looking at Kane with the fear that the usual victims did. He wasn’t even looking at him with hate.

  He was looking at him like he’d looked at him all along.

  Like he knew exactly what he was.

  Kane held out a hand. “Come on. Up you get. We’ve got other plans for you. There’s a whole world out there waiting for you to explore.”

  Spud and Kane held eye contact. There was no movement, not for a while.

  Then Spud finally reached up and took Kane’s hand.

  “Good boy,” Kane said, wiping some of the blood from Spud’s face as he walked the shocked boy out of the dining room, outside the door of the farm and into the storm outside. “No, no. Don’t look back. The past is done. No good moping about it. No good worrying about how it was, what might be. Just think about the now. Think about all the freedom you have. The world outside this door is yours. Are you ready?”

  Spud looked back at the farm. He looked back, tears and blood on his shocked face.

  Then he looked up at Kane.

  “Good,” Kane said, tightening his grip around Spud’s hand. “Because there’s a lot of learning for you to do.”

  The pair of them walked away from Spud’s farm, both coated in blood, into the total darkness.

  For the first time in his life, Kane felt a bond.

  He felt like he had a friend.

  A friend that was going to be like him.

  Just like him.

  Kane licked the tasty blood from his lips and whistled as he walked hand-in-hand into the mouth of the storm.

  He was going to have so much fun with this one.

  EPISODE THIRTY-EIGHT

  WHAT WE HAVE TO DO

  (SECOND EPISODE OF SEASON SEVEN)

  PROLOGUE

  “Riley?”

  Riley stared at Chloë. Then he looked at the baby in her arms. The light that was left in the dimming sky was fading by the minute. Riley felt completely cold, a total iciness all over.

  Chloë was here.

  Chloë was alive.

  He looked at her, sat back against that tree. Her face was gaunt, and her hair was messy. Her clothes were torn, and her feet were covered in blisters. But worse than anything was her right arm. Or her lack of a right arm, rather.

  He didn’t know what had happened to her. He didn’t know what she’d been through.

  Just that she was here right now.

  He heard the baby start to cry and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He tasted vomit, as the smells of the deaths he’d caused overwhelmed his senses.

  Chloë looked into his eyes. She moved her chapped lips like she was trying to speak— like she was trying to say something but didn’t have the strength. And a part of Riley didn’t want to go over there. A part of Riley didn’t want to believe this was real because believing this was real was accepting there were still good people out there, people he could trust.

  He hadn’t seen Chloë since Mr Fletch’s attack on the MLZ. He’d sworn she’d run off to her death. He thought about her from time to time. Wondered how she was getting on; if there was a slim chance that she was still alive.

  But if any kid—if anyone—was tough enough to make it in this horrible world, it was Chloë.

  Right now, she needed his help.

  Riley stumbled over towards Chloë. “It’s okay. It’s me. I’m—I’m here. I’m…”

  To his left, he saw two creatures approaching, their limbs contorted, teeth snapping for flesh.

  Riley felt anger inside. He pulled back his axe and rammed it into the head of the first infected. Then he slammed the axe into the neck of the next one, silencing them as more approached.

  “Riley,” Chloë muttered.

  He stepped back towards her. Crouched down beside her. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now. I’ve got you.”

  He picked Chloë up. He wasn’t expecting her to be too heavy, but he figured that the baby might add a little weight. But no. They were both so weightless. He wanted to know what Chloë had been through to get in such a state. He wanted to know who this baby was. What it all meant.

  But as he held on to Chloë’s tiny frame, only one thing mattered.

  Getting Chloë back to the cabin.

  Riley ran through the woods, past the trees. He felt the branches scratching at his cheeks. In the corners of his eyes, he saw more creatures staggering towards them, eager for an easy meal.

  But he wasn’t an easy meal. He wasn’t an easy meal at all and neither was Chloë, neither was this baby. Because he had them. He was protecting them. And he was going to look out for them, no matter what.

  He picked up his pace as he ran through the uneven terrain of the woods. The closer he got to the cabin, the more the worry kicked in. What if Jordanna hadn’t been able to hold off the attackers herself? What if they were inside, just waiting for Riley to return?

  What if he was leading Chloë and this baby right to their death?

  He was about to get his answer when he saw three heads on stakes.

  He jumped back. Looking every one of them in the eye—the long-haired man, the two ginger people who looked like brothers—Riley saw a flash of the moments he’d killed them. The looks in their eyes as they’d tried to steal food from the cabin. What he’d done to them as a warning to anyone else who might approach.

  At the time, he remembered blotting out the horrors of what he’d done. Putting those horrors in day-tight compartments, which he’d never, ever open.

  Except they were opening themselves right now.

  He shook his head when he heard the creatures getting closer behind him and he kept on running towards the cabin.

  He pushed on through his stitch. Kept on checking down at Chloë. Her eyes were half-open. She looked up at him with fear and confusion in her eyes. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

  “It’s okay,” Riley said. “We’re going to get you back. Get you both back. Jordanna, she’s waiting for you. She’s waiting for you back home.”

  Riley saw the slight smile on Chloë’s face then. And he prayed it was true. He prayed Jordanna was still at the cabin, but he had a horrible image of her being gone. Of the group being too much for her. Or for a creature noticing her, taking her down while she was distracted.

  He’d find out soon. Very soon.

  He saw the outline of the cabin up ahead. He felt sick, right to the core, as he gripped on to Chloë, balanced the baby on top of her.

  He looked up at the cabin and waited for movement. For a sign of life from Jordanna.

  And then he saw the bodies.

  He saw the bodies of the people he’d killed. The bloody marks on their necks. The mess of flesh where the traps from above had split the group leader into pieces. As Riley walked through these remains, he couldn’t hide from the horrors of what he’d seen anymore. The horrors of what he’d done.

  He was a monster.

  He was a creature.

  He was killing other people to further his own existence, and nothing else.

  He saw a movement by the cabin door and his body froze.

  He waited for someone to lift a gun. To fire at him. To tell him to get on his knees.

  But they didn’t.

  They didn’t because the person at the cabin door was Jordanna.

  She narrowed her eyes when she saw Riley approaching, two small bodies in his arms. She squinted like she had a vague sense of what was going on bu
t didn’t truly understand.

  And then she slowed down. Dropped her gun. Started to shake.

  “Chloë,” she mumbled. “Chloë.”

  She ran down the steps of the cabin. Ran past the dead bodies, ran through the piles of flesh and blood.

  And then when she got within feet of Riley, Riley held Chloë out.

  “Chloë!” Jordanna cried.

  She grabbed Chloë. Took her from Riley’s arms, like a mother cradling her child. She kissed Chloë’s grimy face. Stroked her hair. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed you so, so much.”

  Riley held the baby in his arms. He looked down at her. Wondered who she was, with her hopeful eyes. Her sparkling eyes. He wondered what stories she held. What secrets hid within.

  Then he looked back up at Jordanna and Chloë, and he felt a lump in his throat.

  He saw Jordanna crying as she kissed Chloë’s head. But above anything, the thing that knotted Riley’s stomach was the way Chloë cried back. The way that she reached out for Jordanna whenever she moved away.

  “Please,” Chloë cried. “Please.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Jordanna said, clinging on to Chloë’s frail body. “I’m never going anywhere. Never again.”

  Riley walked over to Jordanna and Chloë. He didn’t know Chloë’s story and she didn’t know his. And it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

  In the backdrop of blood and gore, in the backdrop of chaos and death, Riley put his arm around Jordanna and looked down into Chloë’s eyes.

  “We’ve got you,” he said, tears rolling down his cheeks. “We’re here for you. Forever.”

  Chloë looked right into Riley’s eyes. She smiled.

  And then she closed her eyes as the group held onto each other and cried.

  THEY DIDN’T SEE them watching through the trees.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Kane tried to move but he was surrounded by darkness.

  He didn’t know where he was, what time it was. He didn’t know anything about his surroundings. He couldn’t hear anything but the shakiness of his own breath, the thumping of his own heart. He didn’t even feel like he was standing on a floor—just hovering in darkness.

  But despite all of these senses failing him, he knew one thing. The smell.

  The air was thick with the stench of rotting bodies. Bodies that had recently been killed, presumably by him. There was something different to the smell of a person he’d killed and the zombies. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly. Much like the difference between masturbation and real sex, he supposed.

  He could smell the sweet rot of perfect death in the air right now, and that’s how he knew these were bodies he’d killed.

  He licked his lips as the smells of death grew into tastes. He started walking. And as he walked, he heard sounds building up. Buzzing, like flies flapping their tiny wings together. A light started to emerge ahead of him too: the room around him opened up, and he realised right then that he was familiar with this room. He’d been here before, many, many times.

  This was his happy place.

  This was his abattoir.

  The second the realisation clicked into place, dim, flickering lights filled the room.

  He saw bodies. Bodies dangling down from meathooks all around him. All of them were in various stages of decomposition. Some men, some women, some children. He walked past them, brushing their soft skin—sometimes so soft that the skin fell off upon the slightest contact. He licked his lips as the buzzing sounds of the flies got louder. This was perfect. This was where he needed to be right now. This was—

  “Kill him.”

  He heard the whisper from somewhere behind. He turned around, didn’t see anyone back there.

  “Kill him Kane kill him kill him.”

  The whispers were all around him now, emerging from every direction. And as he heard those whispers, he knew right away who they referred to. What person they wanted him to kill.

  He saw that person sitting up against the wall at the opposite side of the abattoir, terror in his eyes.

  Spud.

  He looked at Spud and Spud looked back at him. All the time, the whispers swirled around, egging him on to kill Spud, urging him to do what he had to do.

  “You know you want to kill him, Kane.”

  “You know you’ll be stronger if you kill him, Kane.”

  But as Kane stood there and stared at Spud’s tear-drenched face, he realised he didn’t want to kill him. He didn’t want to kill Spud at all. Because Spud was different. Spud was a special kid. He’d looked at Kane like he knew what Kane was right from the very start, and that had to count for something. It had to mean something.

  ’Cause sure. All this killing was fun. All this killing was what gave Kane his release.

  But he saw now that there was one thing that he craved more than killing.

  One thing that excited him in ways he couldn’t describe.

  He wanted someone to kill with. Someone who understood him.

  A protégé.

  He walked towards Spud. He tried to talk, but his lips were sealed shut. The closer he got to Spud, the more he felt heaviness growing in his hand. He looked down and realised he was holding a machete. It was soaked in blood.

  “Kill him, Kane. You know you have to kill him.”

  “Yeah. You can’t let him live. You can’t let anyone live…”

  He tried to stop himself walking towards Spud, but he couldn’t control himself. Spud’s expression didn’t change. It was that knowing look. That horrified knowing look.

  “Kill him kill him kill him…”

  He forced himself to stop before he reached Spud, as the whispers played around the room—whispers he realised were coming from the corpses of those he’d killed. He looked down at Spud. Waited for him to say something. Waited for him to beg for his life.

  But Spud just kept on looking right back up at Kane.

  “Why aren’t you begging?” Kane asked. “Don’t you want to live? Don’t you want to kill with me?”

  Spud sniffed. More tears rolled down his cheeks.

  And then a smile stretched across Spud’s face.

  He leaned back, his tongue and teeth black, and he started laughing hysterically.

  “You’ll never find anyone to kill with,” Spud shouted, his laughter growing more and more maniacal. His tears turned to blood, streaming down his skin. “You’ll never, ever find anyone to kill with because nobody fucking wants a freak cunt like you!”

  Kane listened to Spud’s laughter and he felt shame, total shame. He heard the corpses of those he’d killed laughing too, swinging on the meathooks. He heard the soundtrack of his shame playing over and over in his mind.

  “No,” Kane said, eager to stop all this, eager to put an end to it.

  Spud leaned back.

  Laughed some more.

  He pointed at Kane and made him feel like a kid again—like he was being bullied in the playground again.

  “No!” Kane shouted.

  He slammed the machete into Spud’s head. Split it, right down the middle.

  He heard the skull crack. Watched Spud’s little brains slip out as thick red blood drooled down his face.

  The whispers stopped. The laughter stopped. Everything stopped.

  Then Spud lifted his head and looked Kane in the eyes.

  He started laughing again.

  “You’ll never find anyone!”

  Kane woke up sharply, gasping for air. He was covered in sweat—so much sweat that he could smell it. He lifted his quilt cover, just to check he hadn’t pissed himself. Well, it made sense, right? He was a serial killer. Always keen to check whether the clichés were true or not.

  But no. No piss. Just sweat. A hell of a lot of sweat.

  Still shaken from his nightmare, his throat dry, he looked over at the other side of the room to check Spud was still there. It was a bedroom they were in—a little house they’d found several miles away from Spud’s ol
d place. Nice little cottage just outside a town. A town where Kane hoped there’d be plenty of people to work on, plenty to kill.

  Spud was sitting back against the bedroom wall. His eyes were wide. Tears streamed down his cheeks, just like they had in the dream. He looked terrified. Grief-stricken. All those lovely emotions rolled into one.

  He saw a flash of Spud laughing at him. Of lifting his machete and smashing Spud’s skull like he was just cracking an egg.

  But as soon as he’d had the image flash in his mind, he let it go.

  “Hey. Chin up, kid. You’re still alive. That’s something. Honestly, letting people live really isn’t in my skill set, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  Spud snivelled. He didn’t say anything in return.

  Kane looked into the mirror and brushed his hair back. The sun peeked in through the cream curtains. Looked like another nice day. Yes. ’Course it was going to be another nice day. They were all nice days in this world now. He didn’t have to worry about the dream. Spud was the person he’d been looking for. They were going to kill together.

  He unlocked the bedroom door and stepped out. Spud didn’t move a muscle.

  Kane crouched down beside him. He could feel the heat coming off Spud’s body—the heat of another vulnerable human being who he could just kill in a flash. He liked that power. The power he had of having the option to kill Spud but not doing so. It made him feel warm inside. Hell, it gave him a kick.

  “Kid, you need to understand a thing or two about this world. And about the world in general. What happened. To your mummy and daddy. It’s done. Over. So what good is sitting there snivelling like a little girl doing to help, really?”

  Spud sniffed. He tucked his chin into his knees. “I just—I just want them back. I just want them back and I want—I want to go away. Please.”

  Kane felt a flicker of agitation. But he let it pass. The kid was upset, course he was. He’d get over it, in time, but his mixed up emotions were understandable right now. “Say you do go away. Where do you go? You can’t kill. You can’t fend for yourself.”

  “I’ve killed zombies before.”