Dead Days: The Complete Season One Collection (Books 1-6)

by Ryan Casey

  He looked at the directions that Anna had given him. The dairy farm was directly behind the Chinese restaurant, across a bunch of fields in the distance. If Stan had gone by foot, then this had to be the route he’d taken. The fields would be relatively safe. Low on people, so low on creatures. Hopefully.

  He squinted ahead. He had another couple of fields to run through, but it all looked clear. To his right, he could hear a cry somewhere in the distance. A woman, shouting and struggling, her words inaudible and muffled. But she was far enough away. Better her than him. Was that selfish? Maybe he had to be selfish to survive in this world.

  Then again, if he was selfish, he wouldn’t be trying to save a missing old man who wanted to kill him.

  He reached the stile between the field he was in and the next field. He rested his hands on his knees and leaned forward to catch his breath. They’d definitely have noticed he was gone now, back at the restaurant. But they were strong enough without him. Strange. He’d never been considered particularly strong before. Did a few push-ups every now and then, and used to run distance. But the way the group was starting to look at him, waiting for him to make calls, relying on him. It was unfamiliar. Something he wasn’t used to. If only they knew everything about him. Wouldn’t be trusting him to make their calls then, that’s for sure.

  When he raised his head, he could see the grey metal roof of the dairy farm up ahead. If he maintained the pace he had been running, he could be there in ten minutes or so. Enough time to get inside, then get back out again.

  He readied his legs and prepared himself to run the final stretch. His breathing was still shallow. He was getting worse at these runs with age. Age, what a bastard.

  Then, something moved up ahead.

  He froze. Lowered his leg slowly. Something had definitely twitched in the long grass of the next field. He could hear something, too. A moaning. An animal? A person? Maybe it was Stan?

  Not a creature. Anything but a creature.

  Riley started to move slowly into the field. He flanked to the right slightly, out of the direct path of the movement. He jogged, slower than he had before, and reached into his pocket. A screwdriver he’d found in one of the kitchen drawers. He’d use it if he had to.

  As he got closer to the source of the movement, he saw another twitch. He stopped. There was definitely something there. He crouched down. He could feel his heart beating against his shirt. He stepped towards the movement, keeping low in the long grass. The song of insects was almost deafening, as was every step in the dry, lifeless grass.

  He took another few steps closer to the movement. It was a matter of metres away now. Whatever it was let out another noise. He raised his screwdriver. Tensed all the muscles in his body. Reached for the grass blocking his view.

  Three, two, one…

  He pulled the grass aside and yanked the screwdriver ahead of him.

  His muscles eased off. It wasn’t a creature. It wasn’t a human.

  He lowered the screwdriver and stepped towards it.

  It was a cow. It lay on its side, shaking its front leg and letting out low, raspy moans. One of its back legs was snapped out of place, at a right-angle in the opposite to natural direction. Riley sighed and stepped closer.

  The cow’s intestines were spilling out of its front. The white fur on its body was matted and damp with blood. It huffed and puffed when its bulging black eye saw Riley, and let out another low moan.

  A lump grew in Riley’s throat. He could feel his eyes beginning to sting. It was a cruel world. It always had been before these ‘Dead Days,’ or whatever they were. But now, it was particularly cruel. The gruelling conclusion of the life of a farmyard animal was there for all to see, instead of hidden away in an abattoir like a dirty secret and served up on a plate with chips and peas.

  The cow let out another low moan and kicked out its front leg.

  Riley looked around. The area was clear enough. Whatever had got this cow had long moved on. Maybe it was a creature. A stray farmer who’d somehow got bitten and made his way back to his field, attacking his livestock before moving on to something more… alive. Or perhaps it was a human. Somebody trying to catch and stock up on fresh meat while the government — wherever they were — figured out how they were going to tackle this outbreak. Perhaps they’d found the cow to be too heavy to drag any further. None of them had the guts to kill it.

  Riley lifted the screwdriver. The singing of the insects grew louder. He’d have to move on. He couldn’t get distracted.

  He pressed the screwdriver against the side of the cow’s head where it seemed softest. His hand shook as the cow shuffled its body, begging for some sort of release from the pain.

  “I… I’m sorry,” Riley said. He stroked the cow on its bloody head and turned away.

  Then, he lifted the screwdriver, and he brought it back down into the cow’s head.

  The cow twitched and struggled for a few seconds as Riley twisted and turned the screwdriver, clenching his eyes together as warm tears built up behind them.

  And then the cow stopped twitching.

  He looked back at the cow’s head. Felt the sticky blood coating his hand. He tugged the screwdriver away and closed the cow’s eyelid. “I’m sorry.”

  He rose to his feet and wiped his eyes with his clean sleeve, and dabbed the bloody screwdriver on his trousers. He kept his focus away from the cow. It had gone now. It was at peace, finally. No more pain, no more struggling. Bailed out from a harsh world. The easy road.

  He stretched his legs and started to jog again, through the long grass and in the direction of the dairy farm.

  “Is that him?”

  They stared through the gap in the fence and watched as he jogged through the field. Blood coated his right-hand sleeve. He was heading right in the direction of Stevens’ Dairies.

  “Yes. That’s him. That’s the fucker.”

  The pair of them were silent for a few seconds as they watched through the scope of their guns.

  “And… and what do you think we should do about him, hmm?”

  The other person gritted his teeth. Teased the trigger with his fingertips, lowering the aim to the running man’s knees and feet. “We follow him and cause him a world of pain for what he’s done.” The person rose to his feet.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “We follow closely. Make him think he’s got a chance. Then see how he handles the nasty surprise we’ve got lined up.”

  The reluctant person shook his head and grabbed the others’ hand, standing up and watching as the bearded, skinny man got closer and closer to Stevens’ Dairies.

  “He’s no idea. Absolutely no idea. But he’ll pay for this.”

  They lowered their guns and they walked in the direction of the dairy farm.

  Riley slowed down as he approached the dairy farm. Everything seemed quiet. There was a long, winding road leading up to the main road, but providing there wasn’t much life around here, no creatures would have wandered down. Regardless, he crept up to the back of the dairy farm and leaned against the metal walls of the building, screwdriver in hand.

  He took a few steps closer to the farm entrance. There were no cars in the parking area. A sign with Stevens’ Dairies swung above the doorway in the gentle breeze. At least he’d got the right place. That was a start.

  He took another couple of steps closer to the side entrance of the farm. The building was quite big. Thinking about it, Stan must have been quite well off. Stevens’ Dairies provided milk to lots of the supermarkets around Preston. Perhaps they were even national. He’d have to ask him, if ever he got the chance.

  Riley poked his head around the large, open doorway. There were seven cows all lined up in individual pens. One of them mooed when it saw Riley. Another shoved its head inside its empty food tray, trying its best to lick any remaining scraps up.

  One of the pens was empty. The gate was open. Must’ve been the cow he’d killed in the field. Somebody had let it
out. Or something.

  He crept through the main area and towards the room at the back. He could see a door, partially open. It looked like an office area. But the place was big. Perhaps it was where they put the milk in to bottles. Regardless of what or where it was, only one thing really mattered: finding Stan.

  The cows’ eyes stared at Riley as he passed. Usually, they had nonchalance about them. But these cows were focused. Curious. He dreaded to think what they might have seen, if they’d seen anything. The creatures didn’t seem to have reached the countryside yet.

  But Jill. The way she was dead in the room. No possible way she had been bitten. There were things they didn’t know about the virus — or whatever it was — yet. Things they didn’t understand.

  As he pushed the door at the end of the room open, he heard something clatter behind him.

  He swung around. The main doors were still wide open. He couldn’t see anything down the street. The cows stared back at him. It must’ve been the cows. Must’ve just been one of the cows searching for food.

  He breathed in deeply and returned to opening the door.

  The room was dimly lit and narrow. A long corridor led right down to a turning. Either side of him, blankets hung down, covering the contents of shelves. He started to lift one of the blankets. Perhaps there’d be something in there that would come in handy. Some bottles of fresh milk, or eggs.

  As he lifted the blanket, he jumped back as something screeched out at him.

  His heart thumped. His hands tingled. “Fuck. Fuck.” He wiped the sweat from his head and took a few moments to compose himself, lifting the blanket again. Just a hen. It was a dairy farm. Dairy farms supplied eggs. Something to remember in future. Idiot.

  He continued moving along the corridor and towards the turning at the end. He saw twitching underneath the rest of the blankets. The hen whose blanket he’d lifted continued to cluck. Best not wake all of them up.

  Another clanging noise sounded from the cow area. He turned around again. He couldn’t see for the door. Had he closed it that much? Yes. He must have. No other explanation.

  “Stan?” he whispered. He gripped the screwdriver tightly in his hand. Where would a runaway man go to hide, anyway? Maybe Riley had been hasty coming to this place. But at least he’d tried. At least he could take some milk and eggs back. Another contribution to the group.

  As he reached the end of the corridor, he looked either side. On the right was a door, but it was padlocked. He sighed. This place might have been big, but he was limited in where he could search.

  He turned to his left, and his body froze.

  Behind a wide-open wooden door, there was a figure. Riley couldn’t make it out properly for the poor lighting, but he could tell he had a bulky build and thin, grey hair. The figure had his back to Riley and to the door, and was sitting completely still.

  “Stan?” Riley got closer to the door. A chorus of mooing cows cut through the silence. He reached the door. His hand was gripped so tightly around the screwdriver that it felt like a natural extension of his body. “Stan? It’s… it’s me. I’ve come to… to help you. To say sorry and to bring you back. If you want that.”

  Stan didn’t respond. He remained completely motionless. A streak of light just about cut through the murky darkness as it shone in through the dusty window.

  A hen started to cluck. And then another, and another.

  Riley reached for Stan’s shoulder. He was sitting in the middle of the room on a wooden chair. Every few seconds, he twitched. Mumbled. It sounded like he was whimpering.

  Riley looked around the room. A sense of dread began to work its way through his body. An overwhelming foreboding emotion that he really, really shouldn’t be here.

  “Stan, let’s… let’s get you out of here. Okay? Let’s…”

  When he saw Stan from the front, he realised why he wasn’t talking.

  Stan’s mouth was covered with duct tape. Blood-laden tears seeped out from his bulging eyes. His feet and hands were tied around the wooden seat with thick layers of tape. He shook his head at Riley and tilted his head at the door, shouting and mumbling beneath his gag.

  Another hen clucked.

  “Shit, Stan, what… what happened here? What’s…? Come on. Let’s get you out of here. Let’s…” Riley tried to break the duct tape from Stan’s mouth with his shaking hands. He could see equipment hanging from sharp nails on the wall. Scissors. A hammer. An axe.

  Riley yanked the duct tape away from Stan’s face. Stan gasped. Congealed saliva and blood seeped from his swollen, chapped lips.

  “Let’s get you out of here. It’s… It’s not safe. Let’s—”

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” Stan said. His bottom lip quivered. “You should go. Go while you can.”

  Riley rushed to the wall and grabbed the scissors. “I’m not leaving without you. I’m not—”

  “Well, hello there.”

  Riley froze. The hens had stopped clucking. He turned around slowly in the direction of the unrecognisable voice.

  It was a man. Skinny. Wore a cap and a bloody vest. Greasy hair dangled onto his shoulders from an unkempt ponytail.

  And he had a gun pointed directly at Riley.

  “Aaron, kid — it looks like we’ve found our animal killer.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Please, there doesn’t have to be any—”

  “Shut up.” The ponytailed man aimed his gun directly at Riley. It was long and thin, like a rifle. “Just shut up and drop the scissors.”

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” Stan mumbled. “Shouldn’t have fucking come here.”

  The ponytailed man slammed his boot into the leg of Stan’s chair. “Since when did I say you could talk old man?”

  Riley’s body trembled. The scissors slipped out of his hand. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think.

  Another man poked his head around the door, presumably ‘Aaron.’ He had mid-length ginger hair and a freckly face.

  “What took you so long?”

  Aaron looked at the floor in disappointment. “I… I was just checking if this thing was loaded.”

  “Well, it is loaded, okay? I told you it was loaded before. Got a problem with this?”

  “No, Sam, no. Let’s just… let’s just get this done with.” He started to approach Riley. He was holding a smaller gun. There was some tape dangling from his belt. “Keep still. Not a flinch.”

  Riley couldn’t flinch if he wanted to. Aaron checked his pockets and pulled out the screwdriver, tossing it over to Sam. Fear pumped through Riley’s body. Aaron grabbed his wrists and pushed him back towards the floor. Riley crumbled backwards, like a statue without support.

  “Tie him up,” Sam said. “Tie him up and we’ll decide what to do with them.”

  “Please,” Riley whimpered as Aaron lifted him back onto a chair and tied up his wrists while Sam kept his gun on him. It didn’t seem real. Everything that was happening was like a blur, or a dream. This couldn’t be happening to him. “Just—please. Let us go. We haven’t—”

  “Haven’t what?” Sam said. He squared up to Riley. “Killed our animals? Fucked with our produce?”

  Riley tried to speak but an invisible grip tightened around his throat. “No, we… No. No.”

  “No?” Sam said. A little smile emerged on his face. “You haven’t? Really? So that cow we saw you lurking around just before. You didn’t shove a screwdriver into its head, did you? Hmm?”

  Riley stared back at Sam. The cow. Dying, suffering. He had to put it out of its misery. He had no choice.

  “The cow, it… something had already—”

  “Bullshit.” Sam smacked the butt of the gun against Riley’s face. “Y’know, once upon a time, maybe I’d have believed you. Given you the benefit of the doubt, or whatever. But what about the rest of our animals, hmm? What about the others? Were they all suffering too?” He stepped up to Riley and squeezed his cheeks tightly. “What about my Trudy, hmm? Lovely golden r
etriever. What about her?”

  Riley’s stomach sank. The Labrador he’d seen outside the Chinese restaurant. Dead, the bone in its back leg exposed. “No. That wasn’t… We didn’t…”

  “We? I’m hearing a lot about ‘we.’ Just you and the old man, is it?”

  Stan stared over at Riley. He had been silent up to now. His jaw shook. It looked like he was holding back an explosion of words and emotions.

  Aaron finished strapping Riley to the chair and stepped back. Sam looked from Riley to Stan. “Well?”

  “We have a group,” Stan’s voice bellowed through the room. Riley frowned. What the hell was he doing? They couldn’t give anything away.

  “Oh really?” Sam approached Stan and crouched in front of him. He pointed the gun in between his legs. “And where would we happen to find this ‘group’?”

  “Stan, don’t—”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Aaron said. He aimed the gun nervously in Riley’s face.

  “Old man? Care to continue?”

  Stan glanced at Riley and cleared his throat. “They’re tough. Six or seven strong. And when they find out what you’ve done to us, they’ll come for you. And by the way — these are my fucking animals, not yours.” He spat in Sam’s face.

  Sam barely flinched. He wiped away the stringy phlegm with the back of his hand and examined it, nodding his head from side to side. “They might have been your animals once upon a time. But the rules have changed, in case you haven’t noticed. The flesh eaters, they are the government now. And they don’t give a fuck whose dairy farm this was.” He stood up and nodded at Aaron.

  “What do you want from us?” Riley asked.

  Sam narrowed his eyes. He waited a few moments before responding. “I’m not totally sure yet. I haven’t quite decided whether you’d miss an arm or a leg more. But you’re going to pay for slaughtering our animals. Come on, Aaron. Let’s decide what we’re going to do with these fuckers.”

  Aaron nodded a little too enthusiastically and led the way out of the room. Sam rolled down the blackout blind at the grimy window, then followed closely behind. He stopped at the door.