Dead Days Zombie Apocalypse Series (Season 7)

by Ryan Casey

  Alison nodded. “I hope so. I hope so. Let… let yourself out. When you’re ready.”

  She closed the door.

  Silence filled the room. Riley turned around to look at his favourite photo of Alison and him—one they’d taken on a rainy day in Blackpool by the promenade. Happier times.

  But the photo was gone. She’d taken it.

  He thought about calling her back. He thought about waiting for her to come home.

  But he didn’t.

  Riley never saw Alison again.

  He never fought to see his son.

  He never fought for his family, living their perfect new life on the other side of the world.

  But he never forgot his words.

  “I’ll see you and I’ll see my child again and I’ll prove you wrong.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Riley stared into the dead eyes of Jordanna and Chloë and he didn’t feel anything anymore.

  The sky was dimming. The sun was setting. There was a cool breeze in the air, but Riley didn’t feel it, not really. All around him, total silence. The only sounds were the occasional breeze or a shaky breath that Riley caught himself doing. Sickness lingered at the back of Riley’s throat.

  All because of what was in front of him.

  He saw the events flash through his head again. Mattius bringing the machete down on Chloë’s remaining arm. That confused look on her face. Jordanna trying to stop him swinging the machete down again, only to have the machete rammed into her neck.

  And then Chloë looking at him. Looking right into his eyes and telling him those final words.

  “Keep Kesha safe.”

  Riley’s stomach turned as he crouched there, tied up to the column where Mattius and his people left him.

  “Keep Kesha safe.”

  He’d failed. He’d let Mattius get away and take Kesha with him. Not only that, but Mattius knew what Kesha was capable of. He might not totally understand it, but what was to stop him using Kesha in the way Chloë was desperate to prevent all this time?

  He couldn’t let Mattius win. He couldn’t let him take Kesha away.

  But he had.

  Riley pulled against the ties around his wrists. He kept on pulling as the ties dug right down into his skin, making them chapped and bloody. He bit down on his lip and desperately tried to shift his body away.

  But it was no use.

  He was stuck here.

  He was trapped.

  He leaned back against the column and stared up at the fading sky. He hadn’t cried. He hadn’t been able to cry, not since he’d been tied up. All he felt was an intense guilt. A gnawing guilt at what a failure he was for allowing Kesha to be taken away. For allowing Mattius to do what he did to Jordanna, to Chloë.

  The two people he cared about most. His family.

  Dead.

  And Kesha taken away.

  There was only one time in his life that he’d felt as low as he did now. As he experienced these feelings, he felt the memories flooding back.

  The memories of holding the steering wheel.

  Staring at that brick wall.

  He didn’t like to recall those memories. It took him back to a life and a world he’d left behind.

  But those memories just kept flowing, now.

  Saying his goodbyes to his family in his mind.

  Saying sorry to Alison and to his son for choosing not to be there for them.

  Then stomping on the gas and hurtling towards the wall.

  He remembered the sensation he’d felt when the car hit the wall. That momentary release from pain, from fear, from everything.

  And he wanted it.

  He wanted it all over again, especially now everything he cared about was gone.

  He opened his eyes. Looked at Jordanna, then at Chloë. In front of their heads, which were on stakes, he saw their bodies. Blood pooled from their necks. Just to the left, Chloë’s dismembered arm rested in the dirt. Poor girl. Poor, poor girl.

  He turned to the entrance of the camp and he saw movement.

  Riley wasn’t sure what to feel about the movement at first. There were four creatures, the old kind, all heading his way. Instinct made him pull at the ties, try to break free. But a nagging voice in his mind told him to give up. To let them take him. Because he was finished. He was done.

  He looked over at Jordanna and for the first time, he felt tears roll down his face.

  The groans of the creatures grew closer.

  He’d failed. He’d let Jordanna down, and he’d let Chloë down, just like he’d let everyone else down. Everyone he’d led. Anna. Ted. Pedro. Cody. Every single person he’d led, all of them gone, all of them disappeared.

  He’d failed them. He deserved to die.

  He heard the creatures’ footsteps approaching. He looked at them, saw their teeth snapping as they got closer. They’d be on him soon. It wouldn’t be pleasant. It’d be damned painful.

  But soon, it would be over.

  Soon, his agony would be over, and he could rest with the people he loved.

  He could be where he was supposed to be.

  “Come on then,” he muttered, tensing his body and facing the creatures head on. “Come on. Do what you’ve got to do.”

  But as the creatures edged closer, Riley felt something else inside. A different emotion.

  He felt the emotions he’d felt when he looked at Chloë holding Kesha. He remembered her telling him she’d achieved everything she wanted to achieve by getting Kesha to him and Jordanna, by getting her to safety.

  That was Chloë’s goal. That was her sole purpose, all along.

  And Riley was just going to give up on that?

  He felt his stomach knotting as the rancid smell of the approaching creatures hung in the air.

  There was Jordanna, too. She cared about Chloë, perhaps more than she cared about anyone else in the world. She saw her as family, and she saw Kesha as family too.

  Was Riley just going to give up on that?

  Throw the towel in?

  The first of the creatures crouched down and crawled towards Riley’s legs.

  His heart raced. In his mind, he saw a vision of what he had to do now, clearly.

  He couldn’t give up.

  He had to get to Kesha.

  If he didn’t save Kesha, then Chloë’s and Jordanna’s deaths were in vain. They’d be for nothing.

  As much as he missed them, as much as he was still in shock about them, the grief yet to truly hit, he knew he couldn’t give up on Kesha because that’s just not what he was supposed to do.

  He couldn’t give up on life because that’s not what he was supposed to do.

  He yanked at the ties.

  The creature reached out for his leg. Grabbed his ankle.

  More of the creatures surrounded him.

  In that horrible moment, totally trapped, Riley felt the will to live return right on the verge of his life ending.

  He watched the creature open its mouth. It wrapped its jaws around Riley’s leg.

  And then blood splattered out of its skull.

  Riley narrowed his eyes. He didn’t know what’d happened.

  And then he saw the rest of the creatures falling. He heard their gargles diminish as someone attacked them, took them down one by one.

  When they were all down, Riley saw a man standing opposite him.

  He was tall and skinny with dark, curly hair. He had a smile on his face but bloodshot, angry eyes. Something about those eyes told Riley this man knew who he was, even though Riley hadn’t seen him in his entire life.

  “What… Who are you?” Riley asked.

  The man smiled. Wiped his knife. “Hello, Riley. I’m Kane.”

  He pressed his knife to Riley’s neck.

  “And I believe you killed Spud.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Cody heard the footsteps and the voices approaching the man’s fallen body and he knew what he had to do.

  He reached down and dragged the man dow
n the side of the container by his ankles. He was heavier than he looked, and dragging someone along wasn’t easy when your fingers had been gnawed away by the undead, either.

  But still, he persevered. There was bitterness in his mouth as he pulled this dead mass along. He could still taste the blood from the man’s neck. He’d murdered him. Bitten him. What different to the undead was he?

  The difference was, he had a moral compass.

  He had a goal in mind.

  Get to Michael.

  He’d do whatever it took to get Michael back to his family.

  He dug his feet into the ground and dragged the man around the side. He could hear the voices getting closer, then. There was laughter too. The sky was dark now, so he had that on his side, at least.

  He reached for the keys and pulled them from the man’s body. When he pulled them out, he saw something else drop from the man’s pocket. A photograph. Him and a little girl. He was holding the girl up on his shoulders as the pair of them walked alongside a coastal path.

  Cody felt a speck of guilt as he looked at the man’s face, at his bulging, terrified eyes, and at the mush of bitten muscle on his neck.

  Then he took the keys and walked back around the side of the container.

  He saw the lights of torches flickering around the camp. And as he reached the side of the container, he realised more people were moving. They were all going somewhere. Towards the glow of a fire, gathering around it.

  Cody wasn’t sure what was at that fire, but something was drawing them towards it.

  When he squinted, he thought he could see someone writhing around. A prisoner, struggling to break free of the grip of these people.

  Only he wasn’t a normal prisoner.

  He was undead.

  Cody swallowed a lump in his throat as he watched them sit this person around the fire. As he watched the ginger guy address him like he was alive.

  And then he watched as everyone attacked him. Beat him. Dismembered him like they were torturing him.

  Why were they torturing an undead?

  What the hell were they doing?

  He looked around at Michael’s container. He had to get there. Fast.

  When he started to move, he heard more footsteps approaching.

  Saw torchlights flickering in his direction.

  “You check on No Fingers. I’ll check on Mikey boy.”

  Cody’s guts went cold. They were coming to check on him. He had a decision to make.

  He turned back to the container and stepped inside it.

  Then he pulled the bars to, gently. Just enough so it was still partly open.

  He watched the man with the torch approach his container. He saw the light shine on his face. It was so bright that he couldn’t make out the man’s features.

  “See that over there?” the man said, pointing at the frenzy of torture that was unfolding. “That’ll be you next. As soon as you turn.”

  “What good’s torturing me when I turn?” Cody asked.

  The man chuckled. “You really have no fucking idea yet, do you?”

  Cody was about to ask the man what he meant when he clocked the man looking at the gap in the bars.

  “What—”

  Cody dragged the man forward.

  He slammed the bars against the side of his head.

  He kept on slamming and slamming until his skull cracked—until the bloody brains exploded onto his hands.

  Then he climbed out of the container. He reached down. Searched the man. He had a flashlight and a…

  Shit.

  He lifted the heavy metal object from the man’s back. The object he knew was going to help him get out of this place. Greatly.

  It was one of the rifles that the group had in their possession.

  He struggled to carry it. He knew he’d have to fire with his middle finger instead of his trigger finger, mainly because he didn’t have much of a trigger finger to fire with.

  He sneaked around the side of the container. He watched as the other guard searched Michael’s container, as he exchanged a few words with him.

  Cody sneaked up behind him, slowly. He carried the gun over one shoulder and the heavy duty torch in his hand.

  “You feel what they feel,” the man said to Michael. “Even when you’re dead, you still feel.”

  “How do you know this?” Michael asked.

  “Because we—”

  The man didn’t finish telling Michael whatever he was telling him.

  Cody cracked the heavy duty flashlight over his head, and the man fell to the ground.

  Michael squinted out into the darkness. Cody could only just make out his face. He looked gaunt and distraught.

  And then their eyes connected and dread set in on Michael’s face.

  “Cody,” he said.

  Cody reached for the lock with the key.

  Michael backed away. “What happened. I’m sorry. Truly. I’m—”

  “Shut up,” Cody said, opening up the container gate. “Do you know how to use one of these things?”

  He held out the rifle to Michael.

  Michael looked on, gobsmacked. “But. But the extraction point. I lied—”

  “Whether you lied or not, we’re not sticking around here to die. What you did was bad. But we’ve all done bad things. Now are you gonna take this rifle or am I going to have to fire it with one of my good fingers?”

  Michael shook his head. Then he took the rifle like he wasn’t ever expecting to hold one.

  “Good,” Cody said, lifting the pistol from the fallen body of the man he’d knocked out. “Now we’re going to get out of this place. We’re going to get to your family. Lead the way.”

  Another pause by Michael. Another hesitation.

  Then, “Thank you.”

  “Forget it.”

  “Truly, thank you. I made an error. A catastrophic error. But you are a good man. You’re honestly a good—”

  “Well what do we have here?”

  Cody turned.

  The ginger man stood opposite him. His hands were covered in blood. Behind him, three people, all holding guns of their own.

  The ginger man smiled at Cody. “Doesn’t matter anyway. It’s a good job you’re out of your cage.”

  He pulled something out from behind his back. A head. A snapping head of an infected. The one they’d just killed.

  “It’s your turn to join the party.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Two years ago…

  “RILEY! What a pleasant surprise. Come in, dear. Come in. I’ll pop the kettle on.”

  Riley walked into Grandma’s hallway feeling like total shit. It was a warm summer’s day, the white shirt clinging to his skinny body and revealing his protruding bones. Everything in Grandma’s hallway looked alien, but like he’d seen it before in a dream. He hadn’t been to see Grandma for a while. He hadn’t been to see anyone for a while, in truth.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Grandma asked. She waddled down the hallway and through into the kitchen. She was a spirited old woman. Chubby, around five foot, always wore the same blue cardigan these days and had her curly hair in rollers. Riley used to spend a lot of time at his grandma’s when he was a kid. But he’d drifted in recent years. Drifted since meeting Alison. Drifted since Alison left. Since his grandfather died. Since Mum and Dad left the country.

  He’d left Grandma on her own, and he felt like shit for it.

  “Just thought I’d pop in,” Riley said, leaning back on the kitchen cabinets as the kettle boiled.

  Grandma narrowed her eyes. “Not sure I believe that for a second.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you never bob in. Even when you were a little lad, you only ever bobbed in when you wanted your one pound spending money from me.”

  Riley feigned a shocked face. “That’s totally not true.”

  “It ‘totally’ is,” Grandma said, smacking Riley’s arm playfully.

  Riley felt himself smiling. It w
as nice to smile. He hadn’t felt like smiling in a long, long time.

  “So how’ve you been?” Riley asked.

  Grandma stirred the tea. “Oh, me? I’m fine. I’ve been getting by. Having a new driveway put in next week.”

  “A new driveway? You don’t even drive.”

  “Who said you need to drive to have a nice driveway?”

  “Well…”

  “See. You can’t answer ’cause you know I’m right.”

  Riley shrugged. He couldn’t help admiring Grandma’s ability to find new projects for herself. She’d been retired for a good twenty years now, and she always seemed to have something going on. Way more than Riley did, anyway.

  “So never mind me,” Grandma said, handing the weak tea over to Riley. “How about you?”

  Riley looked down at the tea. He ran through his mind what he wanted to say. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what to say. He’d come here because he felt like he needed to speak to someone. Someone other than Ted, as much as he loved him like a brother. “It’s a year,” Riley said.

  “A year since what?”

  “Since… since Alison left me.”

  Grandma tilted her head to one side. “So you came to mope to me?”

  Riley was taken aback by Grandma’s lack of sympathy. He always used to get easy sympathy from his grandma. He used to get teased by his cousins for it—how he could just turn on the tears and Grandma would come running to his defence, running to his rescue, always. He was the favoured child. He knew that right from being very young, and he made sure he used that privilege all he could.

  “I just… I was feeling pretty low.”

  Grandma put a hand on Riley’s arm. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I just… I just see you and I worry about what all this inner drama’s doing to you.”

  “I can’t exactly help it,” Riley said, between sips of awfully weak tea. “I… I found her profile. Alison. Only she’s called Alice on Facebook, probably to try and ward me off. She’s still in Australia. She’s… she’s got a son. And the son’s got a dad.”

  Grandma moved her hand further up Riley’s arm then. For the first time, he felt like there was some kind of sympathy about her actions. “How did it make you feel?”