Dead Days Zombie Apocalypse Series (Season 7)

by Ryan Casey

  “I didn’t say anything about killing zombies. I said you can’t kill.”

  Spud looked Kane in the eye. For the briefest moment, Kane saw Spud’s potential all over again.

  “Spud… you might not like the idea. You might not want to do things like kill. Hell, you might not enjoy it. Unlucky if not. But the truth is, killing’s what we do now. It’s what we have to do. To survive in this world. And if you can’t kill a man, then a man’ll kill you. Don’t you see that?”

  “My dad and mum. They—they’d never have killed you.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. The point stands. You need to kill. You need to be able to kill. And you need to learn.”

  Kane held out a hand.

  “So let’s get our stuff and head into town. There’s a thing or two I need to teach you.”

  Spud studied Kane’s hand with disgust. But Kane knew he had him. If he walked away, the kid had nobody. He’d die. Sure, he might’ve killed a zombie here or there, but not enough. And he’d definitely never killed a human.

  That was something they’d work towards. The big task that marked the end of Spud’s education.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” Kane said. “Shall we go start lesson one?”

  Spud sniffed again. More tears fell from his chin.

  He looked away.

  Closed his eyes.

  Placed his hand in Kane’s.

  As they sat there in silence, Kane finally felt the whispers in his head disintegrating. He could bond with someone. He was bonding with someone. He wasn’t going to be alone in his killing conquests, not anymore.

  He got a flash of slamming that machete through Spud’s little skull, spilling his brains all over the floorboards. Imagined the release he’d get from it.

  Then he took in a sharp, deep breath. Smiled.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get to your first day at school.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Be quiet. You can’t let them hear you. You can’t let them see you. You have to be completely, totally invisible. Then, you strike.”

  Kane leaned stomach-down in the long grass. Spud was by his side. They were on a golf course, only it was overgrown through lack of maintenance. To their left, there were trees. Trees that led towards a small residential area.

  And heading towards that residential area, just feet ahead of them, a group of five zombies.

  The afternoon sun beat down on Kane’s neck. They’d been walking for some time, so he was happy for a rest. Spud didn’t sound too great still, though. Barely said a word to Kane. Spent half the damned time snivelling like a little baby.

  But after his first true day of training, he’d start to come round.

  “You have to be tough,” Kane said. “It isn’t enough to trust me. And I know it’s going to be hard trusting me after I turned your daddy’s head into mush-mush.”

  Spud whimpered.

  Okay, Kane. Ease off on the murder-banter. There’s a time and a place. “It’s not enough to trust anyone else. You have to trust yourself. Trust you’re strong enough to do what has to be done.”

  Kane wasn’t sure if he was getting through to Spud. Spud’s eyes seemed transfixed on the zombies up ahead, filled with terror. The cool breeze blew the smells of the infected in Kane’s direction. If he focused, really focused, he could convince himself that they were the smells of freshly killed humans.

  Killed by him.

  “Can’t we just let them pass?” Spud asked.

  “Let them pass? Then what? We don’t learn anything. We don’t gain anything.”

  “But if we don’t—”

  “You don’t just let people or zombies pass, Spud. It’s a dog eat dog world out here. You’ve just got to learn how to be the bigger dog, whether you like it or not. Anyway. Get ready. They’re coming.”

  Spud didn’t seem to notice what Kane referred to. But he would, soon. Or he’d die. Either way, he’d better wake up fast.

  The zombies turned and started drifting towards Kane and Spud. Two of them, the gender barely recognisable their bodies were in such a state, let out little gargling groans. As they did, the rest of the zombies turned around and followed.

  “Brace yourself,” Kane said, patting Spud on the back. “Time to get learning.”

  Kane sprung out of the grass. He swung his machete across the neck of the first zombie. Its muscle and bone were so decayed that it came flying clean off. Kane stamped down on its head as it fell to the grass, a mess of cold blood and maggots covering his boot.

  He moved on to the next zombie. A woman. He pushed her down to the ground and kicked at the back of her head repeatedly. He felt a little buzz. Nothing compared to doing the same to a real person, but again, it was something.

  When the second zombie went still, he looked around to see how Spud was getting on.

  Spud was still lying there on his belly in the grass. Tears filled his eyes. He clutched on to the knife in his shaky hand.

  “Gonna have to get the fuck up, Spud,” Kane said, as he split the skull of the next zombie. Just three of them left now. One right by Spud just inches away. Another two between them. Spud could take one of them, at least. He had the strength to do this; the strength to fight.

  Kane rammed the blade through the neck of the next infected. And then he rushed over to the next one, sent the machete splitting across its mouth, slicing its head in two.

  He watched the final zombie descend, close in on Spud.

  He waited for Spud to lift the knife. To snap back into reality. To do what he had to do.

  But Spud didn’t move.

  Kane didn’t want to help. He wanted Spud to learn, and if that meant learning the hard way, then so be it.

  But no. Spud was his. That meant he was his to kill as well as his to train.

  The zombie grabbed hold of Spud’s hair.

  Kane smashed the machete into its shoulder. Split its arm away from its body.

  Then he dragged it back. Pressed it down. Brought the machete down against its flesh, cracking through the bone, again and again and again.

  He kept going until he’d taken the zombie’s arms and legs off. Until it was nothing more than a pitiful torso of a bald man with a few too many tattoos and piercings.

  Kane stepped back. Grabbed Spud by the collar of his shirt. “Go on. Get it done with.”

  “I can’t!”

  “Yes you can. You can, and you will.” Kane pulled the knife out of Spud’s hand and gave him the machete. “A crack. A crack over the forehead and it’ll be done. It’ll be over. Just think. You’re putting this poor guy out of his misery. Putting an end to his pitiful existence, hmm?”

  “I can’t,” Spud said, crying again. He stood there, blubbering, holding on to the machete loosely. “I lied. I—I’ve never done it. I’ve never killed one.”

  Kane smiled. He tilted his head to one side. “And you think I hadn’t already worked that out? Look at you. You’re a pitiful little farm boy with no real understanding of how the world works anymore.”

  “Just let me go. Please.”

  “You’re going to do this. You’re going to be fucking strong. Even if I have to hold your fucking hand while you kill it, you’re going to do this.”

  Spud just stood there, crying, shaking his head.

  Kane gritted his teeth together. Images of splitting Spud’s head open grew more and more prominent.

  He walked over to the zombie. The zombie snarled at him, trying to shake its way upright even though it had no limbs to move on.

  Kane crouched down. Ripped the zombie’s stomach open. Pulled out its pungent, rotting guts.

  “See?” he said, turning back to Spud, the anger in full flow. “It can’t feel a thing. It doesn’t know a fucking thing about what’s going on. All it knows is it wants to eat you.”

  Kane backed away. Imagined the anger he felt for Spud, the urge to kill the weak little shit, and he turned it towards the zombie and booted it in the side of its head.

  “It�
�s dead,” Kane said. “Can’t you even kill a fucking dead thing?”

  Kane saw Spud look down at the machete. His eyes were completely darkened underneath. Even though they’d only known each other a day, the boy looked like he’d aged ten years overnight.

  “Do it,” Kane said. “Get it done with. Right this fucking second.”

  Spud looked down at the ground. Sobbed.

  “Do it!”

  HARRY PETERSON—at least, the man who used to be Harry Peterson before this god-awful undead curse was cast upon him—stared at the terrified little boy walking towards him and begged him to put him out of his misery.

  He wanted to cry out. He wanted to shout. He wanted to scream at the boy to end it. To get it done with. Here he was, armless, legless on the ground, able to see everything that was going on around him, able to understand everything but not able to do anything about it.

  He saw the images of his life flash past him. The moment he’d been bitten, then the moment he’d turned. Feasting on his family and screaming out inside as he ripped his daughter’s chest in two. Chomping down on her delicious heart.

  He watched the little executioner called Spud step up to him, the machete in hand, and as his guts trailed out of his body, he tried to look at the boy like he was begging. Like he wanted him to do this. Like he wanted to put him out of his pain and his misery once and for all.

  Even if the Devil stood beside the boy, goading him on, he was right.

  Spud had to kill him.

  He had to finish him.

  He had to—

  He saw Spud slip.

  Saw him trip.

  He fell down towards Harry, landing right on top of him.

  And as much as Harry wanted to turn away, as much as he wanted to push Spud far from him, he found himself rolling on top of Spud with every inch of strength inside.

  He found himself opening his rotting mouth.

  Wrapping his jagged teeth around the young boy’s soft neck.

  He felt his mouth closing and prepared for the sickening taste of blood.

  Again…

  CHAPTER THREE

  Cody sat in the darkness and stared across the room at Steve, Steve’s words constantly looping around Cody’s mind.

  “News of an extraction point. News of a way out of Britain and into the wider world. News of a way out of hell and into a new world. Just fifty miles from here.”

  The room they were in was pitch black except for the little candle Cody had placed between him and Steve. It was afternoon outside, and quiet, but in here, it felt like the depths of night. This place was their prison cell. They didn’t use it much. Didn’t make enough friends or enemies to have to use it.

  But right now, Cody had been tasked with interrogating Steve. Finding out information on the extraction point he spoke of. Maryam told him he was the one who brought Steve in here in the first place, so it was his job to get the information from him by whatever means necessary.

  Cody hoped he wouldn’t have to use whatever means necessary. He didn’t like that term. He didn’t like what it suggested.

  The room—another old fort—smelled of damp. The ground was covered in moss. Bitterness filled Cody’s mouth; bitterness that always accompanied a lack of sleep. He wanted to zone out right now. To snap out of this. After all, they’d had Steve locked away in here for two days. Two days without food, two days without water. Time to stew over the things he’d said.

  Time for Cody to feel more and more guilty.

  “You want some more water?” Cody asked.

  Steve didn’t say anything. He was tied up in chains to an old metal bar at the opposite side of the room. His teeth chattered, and Cody swore he could hear him shivering.

  “You want food? I can get you—”

  “I could do with some sunlight. And a stretch. After what your people did to me when I got here. Swear I broke a rib or something.”

  Cody felt a glimmer of regret as he recalled Steve being thrown to the ground and questioned right away. “I’m sorry. For the reception. You have to understand it though. See someone out there in the middle of the night, screaming. Then they come in here all smiley as if nothing’s wrong. It does seem… weird.”

  Steve shrugged. For a man who had been locked away for two days, he looked remarkably jovial. His narrow face was bearded, his dark hair was floppy and curly. He always seemed to be smiling. Always. “Usually, when I have good news to share, people are all over it. They certainly don’t throw me away in places like this for hours.”

  “Days,” Cody said.

  “Phew. Days already? Where does the time go when you’re having fun?”

  “The extraction point,” Cody said, no more time for bullshit. “What do you know about it?”

  “What more is there to say about it?”

  “I’d say there’s quite a lot more to say about it.”

  “Well. It’s pretty simple. There’s an extraction point. A way out of Britain. A place where helicopters or planes or ferries are gonna start taking people to safety. I won’t say which. I wouldn’t want to give too much away.”

  “And how do I know you aren’t lying? You seem vague.”

  “You don’t. But something tells me you’re a trusting man. Certainly more trusting than your friends. After all, why would I bother telling you this in the first place?”

  “I can think of plenty of reasons why someone would lie to get something they want.”

  Steve shook his head. Smiled. “Maybe you’re not as trusting as I thought.”

  Steve proceeded to tell Cody about a way off the island. He told of the world outside being normal, for the most part. About entire countries being free of the infection.

  “Britain was deemed a lost cause. One of the worst hit countries in the world by the infection. NATO just agreed to let Britain go. They thought most people here were dead, then it turned out there were way, way more survivors than they first thought. So the global community decided it was time to bring people out of Britain. Into the new world.”

  The news made Cody’s head spin. He was sceptical, but it added up to what Maryam said about countries outside of Britain being normal. About how she’d been a part of that normal world and only ended up in Britain due to a plane crash. The thought of the rest of the world going on as normal around Britain like some kind of Big Brother while nobody in this country knew what was going on… it gave him the creeps.

  “The extraction point. Where is it exactly?”

  Steve laughed. “You think I’d just give up that kind of information?”

  “I think it’d be a very good start if you want us to trust you.”

  “Look, Cody. That’s your name, right? The only thing keeping me alive right now is that information.”

  “That’s not true—”

  “Let’s not lie to one another here. If I hadn’t had anything to offer when you brought me into your camp, I’d be dead already. I only saved myself by telling you about that extraction point.”

  “You’re starting to make me doubt you again.”

  “And yet you don’t. You believe me. I can see it in your eyes. Hear it in your voice.”

  “How do you know about this place, anyway? If there really is an extraction point, why haven’t you been… well, extracted?”

  Steve tutted. “The extraction hasn’t begun. Not properly. There’s procedures. The outside world’s gotta make sure we’re fit to go walking into it. But Cody, what kind of a man do you take me for? I wanted to help. I wanted to be a part of spreading the word. Spreading the good news. I didn’t just want to abandon ship.”

  “And that’s why you’re out here, all alone, hiding between rocks and squealing like a pig?”

  “I wasn’t alone. I was with a larger group. A much larger group. But something… well. You know what happens. You know what always happens.”

  Cody didn’t want to believe. He didn’t want to trust. But he couldn’t find any fault in Steve’s story.

  “I
’m being straight with you because I don’t think lying gets anyone as far as they think in this world,” Steve said. “Sure, it might keep me alive a while if I told you there was a nice big camp I was staying in five miles down the road. But once you get there and find nothing, then that lie would catch up with me eventually, one way or another. And no, in case you’re wondering. There isn’t a nice big camp five miles down the road. Not that I know of.”

  “Honesty can be dangerous.”

  “But I’m going to have to be extra honest if I want you to taxi me home, right?”

  Cody narrowed his eyes. “Huh?”

  Steve laughed again. “Look. I’m alone. There’s no chance I’m getting back to the extraction point—to my wife and daughter—if I don’t have some help.”

  “So you want our protection.”

  “I want you to escort me back to the extraction point. Then, when the time’s right, you can leave. Go off into the new world and enjoy your life!”

  “And what’s in it for you?”

  Steve smiled. “Obviously I’ll leave too someday. But until then, I get to spread the message of hope to more and more people.”

  Cody wasn’t sure what to make of Steve. There were some stretches of logic—that Steve would really willingly choose to stay on this island in order to help others, especially if he really did have a daughter. But after all, it was the sort of person Cody believed really existed, all along. Not everyone was looking out for themselves. Not everyone was untrustworthy.

  There really were good people left in this world. People he could trust.

  “The extraction point,” Cody repeated. “Tell me where it is. Please.”

  Steve sighed. Paused for a second. “You know I can’t tell you that. You know it’s the only thing that’s going to reunite me with my daughter.”

  They held eye contact for a few seconds. In the flickering candlelight, Cody tried to get a read on Steve. Tried to look for a crack in his composure. A break in his story.

  “I’ll talk,” Cody said, standing, taking the candle with him.

  “Thank you.”

  “Not saved your ass yet.”

  Cody walked over to the door.

  “You have a family?”