Cia Rose Series Box Set

by Rick Wood

  He let Brooklyn walk out.

  And he stood there.

  A fool.

  Maybe Brooklyn was right. The world had changed. Baser instincts come into play and there’s nothing he can do about it.

  He could leave. Get to the first floor. Beat the creatures.

  He was sure that’s where Joe would be heading. He could find Joe, find his way out.

  He could survive.

  Without another thought, he made his decision.

  He grabbed his gun from beneath the bed and walked out into the hallway.

  Brooklyn was charging down it, almost at the end.

  Dalton took aim. Fired. Waited. Fired again.

  Brooklyn grabbed his spine and fell to the floor.

  Dalton ran over to Brooklyn’s writhing body and kicked his gun away.

  He pointed his gun at Brooklyn’s head, Brooklyn’s face staring back up at him, entwined with betrayal and anger.

  “You bast–”

  Dalton shot again, Brooklyn cutting himself off, expecting it to end.

  But Dalton was out of ammunition. He hadn’t reloaded, and he’d left it in his room.

  Brooklyn laughed.

  Dalton dropped his gun and went to his knees.

  Looked at his friend.

  Placed his hands around his friend’s throat and applied as much pressure as he could. Squeezing, pushing down, putting all the weight of his body upon his grip.

  It took longer than he thought it would.

  After ten seconds or so, Brooklyn began to splutter. He tried lifting his arms, but the gunshots in his back must have severed his nervous system or something, as he struggled to even twitch.

  Brooklyn’s eyes emptied, but Dalton knew that didn’t mean he was dead yet. That just meant he was unconscious.

  So he kept going.

  He heard footsteps. Heavy. A lot of them.

  People were coming.

  But Dalton kept going.

  Kept going until he could feel no breath from Brooklyn’s mouth against his arm. Until, eventually, Brooklyn’s face was still and empty, and he finally let his grip go.

  He stood and looked at Brooklyn.

  Please evacuate to the first floor.

  Please evacuate to the first floor.

  Please evacuate to the first floor.

  More people appeared and ran, a horde of them barging past him, and he stood, in the middle of the floor, watching people run past him in streams of chaos, listening to the loud woman’s voice that didn’t shut up and just clogged his thoughts.

  Please evacuate to the first floor.

  Why bother rescuing Cia? Would she bother rescuing him?

  Or was this just because he had a crush on her?

  Hell, it couldn’t just be a crush. Look at what he’d done for her.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered.

  She may not have known it at the time, but, in that moment, it seemed that Cia may have been his only friend.

  NOW

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  The silence inside the cottage was bombarded by the growing noise out of it.

  Dalton screaming. Agony taking over. Cries where he pleaded for help and cries where he told her she was a bitch were all intertwined with cries that were indecipherable.

  Behind all that noise was screeching. Masketes, no doubt about it.

  They were far away, but they were definitely approaching.

  She finished drying the large cut across Boy’s back. She was worried it would get infected. Leaves hadn’t done that great a job at cleaning the wound.

  She opened the cupboards of the kitchen, but nothing but dust blew back at her. She flinched and wiped her face. There was nothing here.

  Glancing at Dalton, and assuming he wasn’t going anywhere, she took Boy’s hand and led him into the bathroom.

  She tried the taps, not quite sure what she was expecting to happen. Nothing came out. There wasn’t even any water in the toilet.

  Maybe this wouldn’t have been quite as nice a place for her and Dalton to live as she had thought.

  Funny that, how something can seem so great on the surface, but once you go in and look around, it turns out to be a useless, broken down shack.

  She could still hear Dalton. Clear as if she was stood right next to him.

  She sighed. She was going to have to deal with that before she dealt with Boy’s wound. Before the Masketes arrived.

  She sat Boy down, took his hands in hers and crouched before him. Looking him in the eyes.

  Those sweet, blue eyes.

  He looked hurt. Not just physically, but like his trust had been battered. Like he’d experienced something that would change him, and she wasn’t sure exactly how it may change him and she dreaded to think of it, but she knew he needed her now more than ever.

  Taking both of his hands in hers, she brought them to her lips and kissed them. Closed her eyes. Held them there, tightly. She felt the urge to cry and fought it.

  Not yet.

  “I love you, Boy,” she said. “I love you more than anything in this world. You know that, right?”

  He nodded.

  “No, really – you know that?”

  “Yes, Rosy.”

  “I would do anything for you. Including…”

  Killing for you.

  She didn’t say it, but she thought it.

  “I’m going to need you to do one thing for me, okay?”

  He nodded.

  “You’ve been so, so brave so far. And I’m sorry that you’re hurt – and I will see to your wound, I promise. But, like I said, I just need you to do one thing for me. Yes?”

  He nodded again. A big nod.

  “I need you to wait here for me.”

  “No, don’t go away!” he yelped.

  She closed her eyes. Bowed her head. How could she explain this to him?

  Dalton’s screaming bombarded her thoughts.

  “Please, Boy, I just need you to be brave. I’ll be…minutes. If that. Okay?”

  She took one of her hands from his and put it against his cheek.

  “I’m going to shut this door. And I need you to close your eyes and cover your ears. Okay?”

  He nodded.

  “Do it for me now, please.”

  He closed his eyes. Covered his ears.

  “The devil has departed,” she said, against the hand cupping his ear. “And you are not alone.”

  She stood.

  “Take time to rebuild, Your love in our home.”

  “Shared time it is slowing,” Boy said, taking over. “The pace of our heart.”

  She stepped out of the bathroom.

  “But from now to the end, We won’t be apart.”

  She looked back at him.

  “The devil has departed,” he began again. “And you are not alone.”

  She shut the door.

  She could still hear him, but faintly.

  A cold absence took over as she contemplated what she was about to do.

  Then she stopped thinking about it and listened to Dalton’s screams, incessantly declaring that she was a bitch, a traitor, a whore.

  She stepped outside.

  Took the knife.

  And took the last few steps to the gallows, until she was by his side.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  “I hate you!” Dalton screamed.

  He was flat out on the floor. Even the one hand that was still free was beginning to lose its feeling. He felt himself sticking to the ground with his blood, his cheek against it, his mouth moving with the last few bits of energy he had.

  “You bitch! You traitor! You whore!”

  He heard her step outside.

  He heard the slide of back door, followed by her final steps toward him.

  “I trusted you! You killed everyone I knew, and I trusted you! I would have died for you!”

  Her feet crossed his vision and paused. He tried lifting his head to look at her better, to see her face, to see her evil bastard
ised face one more time.

  But his neck wouldn’t move.

  So he had to make do with her feet.

  “You…” he continued, battering his verbal tirade against the ground with what energy he had left. “You fucking… you… you evil, conniving… bitch…”

  A head rush clouded his mind. The world began to spin. His vision obscured by colours.

  He grew dazed.

  Distant.

  He saw her knees. She must be crouching.

  He felt cold, yet warm at the same time. Warm in the places he was wounded, cold everywhere else.

  Is this what it’s like to die?

  “You little… little…” He struggled to find the words, yet he still searched for them. “You wicked, evil… evil… you… I hate… I hate… you…”

  “Please,” he heard Cia’s voice say. Not shouting, growling, or anything like that – just gentle. Like he remembered her voice being back at the beginning. “Please, Dalton. Don’t make me do this.”

  “Do what… You backstabbing… backsta… back… back…”

  “I don’t want to do this. I really don’t.”

  “Fucking do it! I dare you! I dare… I…”

  “Why did it have to be this way?”

  Why?

  How dare she ask that…

  How dare…

  He tried to shout that at her.

  How dare you ask me that!

  You did this!

  You did this when you killed everyone!

  But words no longer formed. They came out in a breathless wheeze. A broken stutter.

  The world grew distant.

  Then he felt pressure. Her knees in his ribs.

  Screeches.

  Masketes were coming.

  Maybe they’d get her…

  Maybe they’d…

  Maybe…

  A flicker of light in metal shone before him, then the knife was at his throat.

  He closed his eyes.

  Felt the scrape.

  It didn’t work at first. She tried to slit his throat, but in real life, it’s not that easy.

  But she tried again.

  This time, she managed. Blood drenched his chin in spurts, soaking him in its thick warmth.

  He tried to breathe but he was already past that.

  His eyes didn’t close. He didn’t let them.

  They stayed open long after.

  His final thoughts faded. His mind stopped attempting to form them.

  Fairly soon, he was just a body, lying stiff in the floor.

  The Masketes descended, picking at what was left; but by then Cia was gone, and he was just bird food, nothing else.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  “The devil has departed and you are not alone. The devil has departed and you are not alone. The devil has–”

  Boy stopped speaking the poem.

  He waited.

  She should be back by now.

  He didn’t know how long it had been, or how long she had intended to be gone – but he knew it had been too long.

  What if she was hurt?

  She’d said that he needed to be brave.

  Brave boys take their hands off their ears. Brave boys can listen to horrible things.

  But there were no more horrible things.

  Screeches, yes, but no more shouting. No more nonsensical outbursts of evil words.

  He was brave. He took his hands from his ears and stood.

  Walked to the door.

  Put his ear against it and listened.

  The screeches were really close now, but there was something else. It sounded like her, but it wasn’t words. It was… sobbing. Gentle sobbing stifled by silence.

  He opened the door and peered out.

  At first, he jumped.

  A group of Masketes were visible in the garden, across the corridor and through the kitchen. They were distracted, though. In a circle, picking at something. He couldn’t see what, but they were having a good go at whatever it was.

  But the other noise. It was coming from behind him.

  He stepped into the corridor, watching the Masketes, sure that they wouldn’t see him, and he walked away from them, toward the sobbing noise.

  He entered what must have once been a living room but was now a vacant mess. Torn apart sofas covered in dust, a smashed television, a rotting carpet.

  The sobbing was coming from the corner of the room, and that was where he found her. Huddled up. Her arms around her legs. Rocking. Hiding herself from the world.

  Just like he often did.

  When he couldn’t bare the world, this was what he did.

  So he thought… how did she help him when he was like this?

  So he walked toward her. Slowly. Knelt. And placed his hands ever so gently upon her cheeks, and looked deep into her reddened, wet eyes.

  “It’s okay, Rosy,” he said. “It’s okay.”

  But the eyes looking back didn’t look okay.

  So he did what she did when he struggled to stop. When she didn’t get him out of it so easily.

  He sat next to her, tucked his arms around her, and held her close.

  Kissed her forehead.

  And said nothing.

  Just sat there, with his arms around her, being close and being there.

  Because that’s what Rosy always did for him.

  And that’s what he would always do for her.

  DAYS LATER

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Cathryn kept running until she couldn’t run anymore.

  Daddy…

  No…

  He was so still. So stiff.

  His eyes were open, but where was he?

  He wasn’t there.

  That man… He’d killed Daddy…

  Who was he…

  She slowed, falling to her knees. She was in the middle of a street, surrounded by burnt-out shops, bits of paper and debris dancing upon the wind.

  She heard all kinds of sounds.

  A growl.

  A screech.

  And, worse of all – a hiss.

  A Lisker.

  She’d never seen one in person, but her dad had been sure to teach her how to recognise the sound, how to know when the threat was approaching.

  She buried her face in her hands and cried.

  She had nowhere to go.

  How could she escape a Lisker?

  How could she even hide from one?

  A few more screeches prompted her to look up to the sky.

  She saw them in the distance. Circling.

  Had they seen her?

  Of course they’d seen her.

  How would they not have seen her?

  “Hey!” came a voice to her right, and she abruptly turned.

  She saw no one.

  “In the library!”

  There was what looked like it was once a library – taped up cracks in the windows and remnants of scattered, ripped paper.

  The Masketes came into view.

  “In here, quick!”

  Without any other options, she followed the voice.

  Found her way to where he was waiting for her.

  Waiting, as he had been for a while, to take her to her new home.

  Her new, perfect home.

  Perfect as perfect can seem, anyway.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  A bandage around his back, he walked.

  Her hand in his, trudging through the forest, as they always did.

  As they had been for months.

  Together.

  They were with that other man, but he was gone now.

  Something had happened to him.

  I’d watched it all.

  She’d tortured him. Stuck knives in his feet, his hand. Left him screaming in the garden. Walked out, slit his throat, and left the remnants for the Masketes.

  It was brutal.

  It almost made me feel queasy.

  But it didn’t.

  Because I’ve done far worse…

&n
bsp; And they kept walking. While it was light, they walked. When it was dark, either they built shelter, or they found somewhere to hide.

  Sometimes, they came in contact with creatures, but they were good. At least, she was – he appeared to be unhelpful.

  She’d hear them coming and she’d find a hiding place as quick as the flick of a knife. They’d wait it out, waiting longer than they had to, far longer.

  I’d sat and watched them far beyond when it went dark.

  Sometimes they’d fall asleep.

  And I’d still watch them then.

  They rarely, if ever, came across other survivors.

  That they knew of, of course.

  But a woman like this could be of great use.

  He couldn’t.

  But they had the perfect way for getting rid of a child like that.

  We’ll discard him the first chance I get.

  But her…

  The difficulty would be in gaining her trust.

  She didn’t look the kind of person who would give trust easily. Especially after what she’d been through.

  But one would have to gain it.

  And that may take time…

  But, once gained, maybe she’d be trusting enough to leave the boy alone.

  That’s when he could be dealt with.

  I don’t know if I have that long… They may want me to be quicker…

  Well they would have to wait.

  The girl stopped. Lifted his shirt. Took out a bottle of expired antiseptic she’d found at the pharmacist, the one with barely anything left.

  The pharmacist where she’d heard a noise.

  But then I hid, and they had no idea.

  She applied the antiseptic to his back, and he cried out but not as much as he used to. He was growing. Maturing. Getting more used to this world.

  He was still of no use, however.

  He didn’t seem… with it.

  They needed people who were with it.

  She reapplied the bandage and stood up. Smiled at him. Took his hand.

  She always did that. It looked so strange. He was taller than her.

  An odd pairing, really.

  Couldn’t be related. Not by the look of them.

  So why…

  They carried on walking, but they were easy to keep up with.

  Out of sight.