by Ryan Casey
“What—what’s going to happen—what’s going to have to happen—is—is you’re going to have to go out front and—and get on your knees. I don’t like doing this. I don’t like doing this, but I—”
“Please,” Riley said. His heart raced. His hands were sweaty and boiling. His grip on the baseball bat was loosening. “I—I’m just looking for a place to stay, that’s all. I was on my own and I was just—”
“Now don’t lie to me,” the voice said. It was slightly high-pitched. Shaky and uncertain. So too was the heavy object prodding against Riley’s temple. “I saw what you did to those people out there. You—You’re just like the others. But you—I’m being stern because I have to be. I’m telling you, you can’t take what I’ve got. It’s—this place is mine. This place is mine until someone…well, that doesn’t matter. But you’re going to drop that weapon, aren’t you? You’re going to drop that weapon and walk back outside?”
Riley noticed the questioning tone at the end of this guy’s words. The guy was scared shitless. Scared of something. He could use this. He had to. He had to, or he was going to die.
“I—I’m scared too. I just…I was at a caravan site. And then—and then something terrible happened and I was out on my own. What I did to those people…” Riley’s thoughts trailed. How did this person know what he’d done to the group of hooded chavs? Was he following him? “Those people were threatening to kill me. I had to do something.”
“No,” the man said. The heavy object, which Riley could only assume was a gun, shook some more. So too did the man’s voice. “You butchered them. It was dark but I—I saw what you did. I see everything in here. And I can’t trust you. So please. Please step away. Please—”
“I’ve lost so much already,” Riley said, more to himself than anyone, as his stomach sank to lower depths than ever before. “I’ve lost so much and I…I just needed somewhere. Rodrigo told me about this place and I—”
“Wait. Rodrigo?”
Riley felt the gun shaking even more. He took a few deep breaths. Gripped tighter hold of the baseball bat. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. But he had to be ready to.
“Yes. Yes. Rodrigo. Roger. He—he was a friend of mine. A friend…before the caravan site fell.”
Silence from the man. The barrel of the gun drifted further away.
“He was a good man,” Riley said, thinking of the Rodrigo he knew before he got obsessed with control and personal vendettas. “He was a good soldier. He told me about this place. Told me to come here if—if anything ever happened.”
More silence from the man. More wobbling of his gun.
“I swear to you I’ll walk away and—and find somewhere else if you let me. But I only came here because I was out of options. I only came here because I knew nowhere else to go.”
A slight clearing of the throat from the man. “Rodrigo…you knew him?”
“Yes,” Riley said. He turned his head to look at the man, but felt the barrel of the gun swiftly whack him in the temple again as he did. “I knew him. Like I say. He was a good man.”
Another pause from the man. “Put down your weapon. Please.”
“Look, I won’t do anything, I swear—”
“Put it down and we can talk.”
Riley gulped. He let the baseball bat, which felt like it had welded with his fingers, loosen in his hands, then let it tumble and hit the hard floor, echoing as it did.
“Good. Now turn to face me.”
Riley felt the gun move away from his head. His temple still pulsated, though. He turned slowly. He was half expecting this guy to just blast him in the face after dropping some false hope right in front of him.
But he didn’t.
Riley looked at the man. He was bearded. He had long, grey hair, right down to his shoulders, and wore an exceptionally clean blue t-shirt with a white vest underneath. He looked back at Riley, keeping his gun pointed at Riley’s chest. Both of them stared at one another. Stared, Riley trying to weigh this man up, the man obviously trying to do the same.
“You should’ve said you were one of Rodrigo’s earlier,” the man said.
Riley didn’t say anything to this. The man hadn’t even given any indications that he knew Rodrigo was dead. Or how he knew Rodrigo. Plus, Rodrigo hadn’t said anything about a beardy old man shacked up in this last resort bunker he knew about. But this man gave the impression that he’d been waiting for somebody. That he’d been expecting Rodrigo to send someone for him.
“Name?”
“Riley. Riley Jameson.” He thought about offering a hand, but it was dry with blood and burst eye gunk.
“Riley,” the man said. “I’m Alan. Spose I should give you the tour before we get going.”
“Get going?” Riley asked, as Alan turned around and pushed open a door in the wall that Riley hadn’t even seen initially. From behind it, bright light pierced through into the damp, dark entrance area.
“He didn’t tell you much, did he?” Alan said. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He opened the door even further, and when Riley’s eyes adjusted to the bright light, he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
Chapter Seven
Pedro felt the cold specks on his face before he saw them, but he already knew exactly what they were without looking.
“Snow!” Josh shouted. He jumped up and down on the spot, reached his hands into the sky as the fluffy flakes fell to the road.
“Well, look at that,” Chris said, smiling as he held his big black rucksack over his shoulder. Tamara smiled but jogged after her son to make sure he didn’t run too far ahead. Barry was as quiet as ever.
“Winter’s here at last,” Pedro said. He curled his toes in his shoes. They were freezing. He’d much rather have been back at Heathwaite’s right now, with a nice beer in hand and his feet in front of the portable heater. Snow was alright as long as you weren’t stuck outside with it.
Admittedly though, it did look pretty nice.
“We stick to the road,” Chris said. “Walk until the sun’s moving down towards our right. Then we find somewhere sheltered to stay for the time being. A car. Something like that.”
“Think we’ll struggle to find somewhere warm,” Pedro said.
“Right. We will. But we can’t walk all day. We can walk as much as we can down the motorway and hopefully make it to Manchester in a week, maybe less if we’re lucky. But we stick to the road. The last thing we want is to end up knackered and stranded in the middle of a snowy woods.”
Pedro thought back to the creature-surrounded motorways he’d seen in the early days. “Not sure the motorways are such a good idea, mate—”
“They are,” Barry butted in. He kept his head down and kicked aside the falling snow as they walked down the open road towards the motorway. “Not in the early days. But any creatures that were there moved. Followed the screaming people right away from there.”
Chris shrugged. “He’s right. Might be the odd straggler or two, but nothing we can’t deal with. We walk until the sun starts setting, then we find an abandoned car or two and settle down for the evening. And finding an abandoned car shouldn’t be too hard on the motorway. Trust us—we’ve been doing it this way for long enough.”
Pedro nodded. Chris had a point.
The five of them walked down the road, various weapons in each of their hands as the snow fell down on them. Pedro thought about all of the other people he’d encountered in these mad few weeks. All of the other people whose fate he wasn’t sure of. Gustavo. Roger. But mostly, Riley. Riley and Chloë. He wondered where they were. How they were getting on. Whether they’d seen the snow, just like he had.
“Okay, Josh, okay,” Tamara said, resting a bloody hammer on the road and blowing breath into her hands. “But I swear you just went an hour back.”
“Problem?” Pedro asked.
Tamara rolled her eyes. Her fur coat was wrapped tightly around her neck, but her lips were almost blue against her pale skin. “Wants another bloody wee. Swear he’s like a human fountain, this lad. D’you mind taking him over to the side of the road and keeping an eye out? I really need to sort out my rucksack. Stuff’s digging right into my back.”
Josh grinned up at Pedro. He had a gap between his teeth where he’d lost a milk tooth.
“Um, okay,” Pedro said. He felt his cheeks flushing even though cold snow brushed against them. “But, I, er—”
“You only have to take him to the side of the road. Besides, I know he’s desperate to hear some of these army stories of yours.”
“Yeah! Army stories!” Josh hopped up and down.
“Conserve your energy, lad,” Chris called. “We’re getting close to the motorway. I’d like to be able to get at least some of it done before we collapse today.”
Barry stared on at Josh. Pedro wasn’t sure what that look was, but he didn’t like it. Certainly didn’t trust this Barry character with anybody. Struck him as a bit of a creep.
“Okay, okay. Come on, you.” Pedro patted Josh on the back and started to walk over to the side of the road.
“So did you see any splosions?” Josh asked with a little lisp. A lisp that reminded him of his boy, Sam. A lisp that he’d have to try and ignore. He couldn’t see Sam in this kid. He couldn’t allow himself to get attached, not to somebody else.
“A few,” Pedro said, looking around to make sure they were safe as they approached the side of the road. There was a tall line of evergreen trees up ahead, snow sprinkling down from them like icing onto a cake. The road looked clear both ways. “Okay. This place should be good.”
But Josh kept on walking, his eyes wide and fixed on Pedro. Snot dribbled down onto his top lip. “Wow. How many splosions? How many—”
He didn’t finish his sentence because he slipped on some ice and went tumbling to the ground.
Pedro threw himself at Josh to pick him up. Looked like he’d taken a fair knock on the head. A real crack sounded, too. A crack that brought it all back. A crack like when Sam balanced on the kerb, and then—
No. Don’t think of that. This is different. This isn’t Sam.
“You okay, kiddo?” Pedro asked. He lifted Josh up. His coat sleeve had partly slipped off with the impact.
“My head. My head hurts,” Josh said, mumbling and half-whining.
Pedro wanted to respond. He wanted to reply to the boy. But when he saw the boy’s now bare arm, he froze. He couldn’t speak. All this time…all this time, and he was—
“All alright?”
Pedro turned around. It was Barry. He was staring at Josh with a frown on his wrinkly forehead.
Pedro looked back at Josh. Lifted his sleeve even further. Maybe it was just a scratch. Maybe he’d just imagined it was bigger than it was.
But no. His stomach sank when he saw it.
There were bite marks in Josh’s arm. A chunk of his flesh was clearly missing underneath a torn bandage.
Pedro looked back at Barry. Chris and Tamara started to jog over. Barry turned around to them.
“He knows. He knows.”
“What the hell is going on?” Pedro asked. He looked at Chris. Looked at Tamara, who stared at her feet.
“Please, Pedro,” Chris said, raising his hand. “We can explain—”
Pedro shuffled away from Josh. “Explain? Yes you can. This boy’s been bitten. You know what happens to the ones who’ve been bitten.”
“I told you we should’ve just told him,” Barry muttered under his breath, shaking his head and scratching his beard. “Told you we should’ve just told him off the bat.”
“What the hell is going on here?” Pedro said. He squared right up to Chris, who looked back at Pedro with wide eyes. Tamara rushed over to her son.
“We were going to tell you. We were going to tell you once we…I dunno. Maybe we timed it wrong. But I swear, we were—”
“What, were you going to tell me when you sent me to the side of a fuckin’ road with the kid? Gonna tell me when we all bonded and you made me share a car with him later? Fuck that, mate. Fuck that.”
“Please, Pedro, you have to—”
“I’m done,” Pedro said. He stepped back in the direction the group had already come from. “You lot can go your own way, but I’m not havin’ any more of this secret bullcrap. Josh—I am sorry. I swear I’m sorry, kiddo. But I can’t be here. I can’t be a part of…of this again.”
Pedro stepped away. He couldn’t look at the group again. He peered up the road in the direction they’d come from—at the wooden fences lining the road. It was the third right they’d taken to get this way, right? Or was it the fourth? And where was he going to go? His vision was blurry. His head spun.
“You might want to know something else before you walk away.”
Pedro did turn around. It was Barry who spoke. Barry, who’d been so quiet—so suspicious—since Pedro had met this group. “You’ve got a lot to say all of a sudden. I can’t be here. Simple as that. I can’t watch this kid turn—”
“You won’t have to,” Barry said.
Pedro frowned. “What do you mean I won’t have to? He’s been bitten. That’s what this is. Right?”
Tamara cuddled Josh. Josh had tears running down his cheeks and a big purple bruise growing on his forehead. Chris held his cheeks in his hands. Barry, for the first time since Pedro had met him, stared directly at him.
“That’s what this is, isn’t it? He’s been bitten and you can’t let him go. He’s been—”
“Josh was bitten. You’re right about that.”
Pedro shrugged. He felt a lump in his throat. “Then I’m sorry. But there’s nothing more we can—”
“He was bitten three weeks ago,” Barry said.
Pedro was already turning around when the weight of what Barry just said hit him in the face. He turned back. “What? What did you…how…?”
“Back at that big house we told you about when we found the Internet connection. It happened then.” Pedro noticed Tamara was crying. Hugging her son, holding him close. “One of the zombies took a chunk out of his arm. So we…we figured we’d take him out of there. Find a way to end his life peacefully on the road. Waited for it to…for him to turn. Sometimes it takes minutes, sometimes it takes hours. But as time went on, it just…it didn’t happen.”
Pedro stumbled back towards Barry. Chris was stood to one side, head lowered, letting Barry speak—at last.
“Are you telling me this boy is…are you telling me he was bitten and he’s—he’s not turned? Are you…are you saying he’s immune?”
Barry smiled. He rubbed his fingers through Josh’s curly hair. “I’m saying he’s more than immune. I’m saying that he could be the cure.”
As Riley stepped through the doorway and into the brightly lit area of the bunker, it was as if he’d stepped into a new universe entirely.
The stairway was clean and brightly lit. He could smell the freshness of the place as he descended the stairs. He could see the white paint on the walls, so clean, so…undirty. A world away from the musty, damp entrance area.
But when he reached the bottom of the steps, that’s when it got even weirder.
The closest thing Riley could come to describing the place was to say that it reminded him of one of those fancy studio apartments he’d taken a look round at the Preston Docks when he was first moving out of his parents’ place. There was a desk in the middle of the room with an out-of-place CRT monitor atop it. Over to the right, the silver tiles turned into a plush, deep red carpet, a huge television mounted on the wall with DVDs and Blu Rays stacked either side of it. To the right, there was a pristine looking kitchen area, with shiny utensils—all so fresh looking, all so n
ew. Beside the island in the middle of the kitchen, there was a wheelchair.
“What…this place…it’s—”
“Sorry about the mess,” Alan said, although Riley didn’t know what mess he was referring to. He limped over to a mirror just beside the kitchen, where Riley assumed the bathroom was. “Oh, hell. Look at this beard and hair of mine. Sorry—when you’re not used to presenting yourself to someone, you can slack a little bit on the shaving. Drink?”
Riley gazed around the room. It smelled so fresh, like a summer’s day, and yet he couldn’t place how or why. It wasn’t cold, either. Quite toasty, actually. It was perfect. Out of the way of the creatures. Some fake doorway in case any outsiders came searching.
Alan whistled. “Hey. Would you like a drink?”
“I, er…” Riley could barely find the words. His throat was dry, so he just nodded.
“I can see why you might be a little thrown by this place. Again, I’m really surprised Rodrigo didn’t tell you more. And I’m just sorry we can’t spend a bit more time here before taking off. Well. I am and I’m not. A man needs his exercise.” He handed Riley a glass of crystal clear water.
Riley took a sip of the cold, perfect tasting mineral water, just like he used to be able to get from the machine at his office. He gulped it down, dribbling some down his chin, looking all around the room, at the bright lights, the CCTV-like footage of various parts of the woods and outside area on the CRT screen, at the stacks and stacks of canned food.
“Don’t get too comfy, now,” Alan said. He still had his long, heavy looking gun in his hands. Clearly didn’t quite trust Riley, not yet. “I’ll give you a tour. Then you should get refreshed and rested before we start our journey.”
“Our journey?” Riley asked.
Alan chuckled. “He really didn’t tell you a thing, did he? Always was a shrewd git. “ He waved his hand and started walking away from Riley. “Let me show you something.”