by Ryan Casey
But she wouldn’t know until she searched the room.
She wouldn’t know until she found out what it was.
She wouldn’t know until—
The door to her right crashed open.
Two monsters lurched out.
One of them—a blond man—so bony he had to have starved to death before finally being bitten.
Another of them a woman, her pale arms covered in cuts, her bare chest and saggy breasts smeared with bloodied bites.
Both of them staggering towards Chloë.
“Chloë!”
Chloë went to lift her right hand out of instinct. When nothing happened, she remembered her left. Her left! Shit. She had to get used to that. Had to retrain her brain to react better. Had to—
When she lifted the knife in her left hand, it was already too late.
The woman grabbed hold of Chloë’s left wrist.
Wrapped her wobbly teeth around it.
Chloë tried to pull back. Remembered the sensation. The tearing of her flesh. The burning. All about to happen again. All about to—
Two shots.
A splatter of blood.
The monsters dropped to the floor.
Chloë’s heart pounded. She turned. Saw her dad had his gun raised. He didn’t look happy.
“I told you not to go—”
“I had it,” Chloë said, slipping out of his reach before he could grab her.
“Chloë!”
She rushed over to the door at the end of the corridor. Wrapped her hand around the rusty bronze handle. Behind the door to her right, she could hear noises. Scraping. Scratching against the wood. Groaning.
More monsters.
More of them.
But they didn’t matter.
Not when she had to see what was behind the door.
Not when the crackling noise was so loud.
She twisted the handle as Dad pressed himself up to the other door. “Need to get the hell out of here. Stop messing around!”
She pushed the door open.
Heard the crackling static at full blast.
And then she stepped into the room.
The room was empty. Empty of any furniture. Wasn’t even a window in there.
But there was a machine.
A big black machine.
The machine where the static noise was coming from.
A tune. Some kind of familiar tune, like a song. Only filled with static.
Chloë walked over towards the machine. Walked over, as the door her dad was holding back split, as he shouted at her to get out of there.
And as he fired at the monsters, as he fought them back, Chloë could only stare at the machine.
She could only listen to the voice beneath the crackling static.
The woman’s voice.
“Is anyone out there? I repeat, is anyone out there? Safe haven. Safe place. Safe community. Pwllheli. Pwllheli, North West Wales. Survivors welcomed. Survivors welcomed. Pwllheli.”
5
FIVE
“You have to tell them, Chloë. You owe it to this group to tell them the truth.”
Chloë walked down the side streets of Hopeforth. It was a nice evening. The cloud had cleared and in its place, an orange glow from the setting sun. It was cooler and fresher, which was a relief after the thick stuffiness of the day. It was nice. Just nice.
The windows of the empty buildings glimmered in the setting sun. Chloë and her father walked around them. Looked at every single one from outside. The group decided they’d take a proper look around tomorrow. A thorough investigation, as Dad called it. But for now, they just looked at these places from outside. Observed them.
And they seemed… quiet. Really quiet.
No sounds other than the birdsong in the nearby hills.
Nothing but the happy chatter and laughter of her group a few streets down.
Nothing but the crackling transmission.
The familiar tune underneath the crackling.
The woman’s voice.
“Is anyone out there? I repeat, is anyone out there? Safe haven. Safe place. Safe community. Pwllheli. Pwllheli, North West Wales. Survivors welcomed. Survivors welcomed. Pwllheli.”
“I thought you said this place was good,” Chloë said.
Dad rolled his eyes. Shook his head. “And it is good. It really is.”
“Everyone seems happy.”
“And so they should be.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Dad opened his mouth. Then he closed it. Half-smiled. Shook his head. “I sometimes forget.”
“Forget what?”
“That you’re still my daughter. You’ve… you’ve grown up a lot, Chlo. Not so much in height. Still a shorty to me. But you’ve matured. You’re using words I never thought you’d utter. You’re showing confidence. It’s good, but it’s…”
“But it’s what?”
He turned away. Shook his head. “Nothing.”
Chloë looked ahead at the long, stretching road. Felt the cool breeze brushing against her skin. She knew what her dad was going to say. “It’s not you.”
But then, her and her dad had been separated for so long. Both of them had been through stuff. Both of them had been put through things no people ever thought they would do. Of course she’d changed. They’d both changed.
Everyone had grown up in this world.
Grow up, or die.
“They have a right to know about the transmission,” Dad said.
Chloë swallowed a lump in her throat. She could taste the tangy tomato of bean juice. She hadn’t enjoyed her lukewarm baked beans, as much of a luxury as it should’ve been. Because she couldn’t get the discovery out of her mind.
The discovery of the transmission.
The transmission leading people towards a place called Pwllheli in North West Wales. Dad had told her about that.
The transmission that offered hope of a safe haven.
“I’ve heard transmissions in the past,” Chloë said.
“Haven’t we all?”
“I’ve… I’ve been to places that call themselves safe before.”
“Chloë, we’ve all been through—”
“After Elizabeth died, some people took us in. Army people. Back in Preston. Just a few days after the start of… of this. We lived there for some time. Lived in these barracks. And it was good. It was nice. Until we found out they were trying to feed us people. Humans. And Elizabeth was one of them.”
She saw her dad’s jaw slacken. It was the first time she’d been honest about how her sister died.
“And then mum,” Chloë said, sniffing back tears she couldn’t afford to shed. “She… I was with another group. The one I got away from Preston with. Mum and me got split from the rest. Got taken in by a man called Mike. Only Mike had a problem with the people who my old group ended up with. And… and there was a fight. Mum got captured. Killed. They shot her in the head while I watched.”
“No.”
“I watched Mum’s skull explode.”
“Chloë—”
“I watched her brains splatter out of her head and hit the concrete—”
“Stop!”
Dad’s voice echoed through the empty town. From a flat roof to the right, some birds flapped away.
“I’m not telling you this to upset you,” Chloë said. “I’m—I’m telling you this because you need to know why we can’t go to these safe places. Because they’re never safe. Not when there’s other people there.”
They stood there, silent. Looked one another in the eyes. Dad’s eyes were bloodshot. Filled with tears. Replaying thoughts Chloë knew she’d play over and over for the rest of her life.
“And that’s why we can’t tell anyone what we heard on that transmission,” Chloë said. “Not… not yet, anyway. Not now we’ve found somewhere good.”
Again, Dad just looked at her. Shook his head. Wiped the tears from his eyes and sniffed up. “I told you I’d tell you if you
were doing something I don’t like.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry. What you had to go through. With—with Mum. And Liz.”
Chloë shook her head. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had truly apologised for her losses. Couldn’t remember the last time anyone had really understood. Because yes, everyone had lost in these days. But not everyone had lost Mum and Elizabeth.
Everyone was so caught in their own losses to really pay attention to anyone else’s.
Dad crouched opposite Chloë. Took her left hand, but gently, like he was worried it might drop off.
“You’re a good person, Chloë. And you’re a good leader. But you still have a lot to learn. And because I’m the world’s best dad, I’m going to let you learn it.”
He kissed her on the forehead. Backed away.
“But if I ever worry you’re stepping over the line too much, I will interfere. I’m sorry.”
He started walking back towards the smells of cooking food, the sounds of celebration.
“Now come on,” he said, stopping and looking back at Chloë. “Let’s go get some beans.”
Chloë looked over at the building where the transmission played. Looked at its outline simmering in the setting sun.
She took a deep breath, turned away, and followed her dad.
HE STEPPED AROUND THE CORNER.
Watched Chloë and her father walk away.
And then he looked back at the building they spoke of. The one with the transmission.
He tightened his grip on the pistol and walked towards it.
6
SIX
The scream woke Chloë from her sleep.
She opened her eyes. Stared up into the darkness. She thought right away it might be a part of her dream. She often dreamed about screaming. About people dying. Mostly people she cared about.
And then she heard the gunfire.
She leaned forward. Scrambled to reach the torch she’d taken from a hardware shop on the main street of Hopeforth.
“Dad?”
Her dad didn’t respond.
She couldn’t hear anyone in here with her.
Couldn’t hear a thing.
Just gunfire.
Screaming.
And…
She heard the groans.
She clenched her jaw. Walked over to the window. Peeked out onto the street. She couldn’t see much. Just the occasional flash of a gun. The occasional movement of a body down on the street.
But the gunfire. The cries. The groans.
Something had happened.
No. Something was happening.
She rushed over to the side of her sleeping bag.
Someone grabbed her left arm.
She struggled with them. Shouted out.
“Chloë!”
She struggled again for a few seconds before realising it was dad.
“It’s okay. It’s… What’s going on out there?”
“There’s gunfire. And groans. The monsters. I think they—”
“Ssh,” Dad said. He pressed a finger to her lips. “Need to keep quiet. We need to weigh them up before we do anything. Try and figure out how many there are of them.”
Chloë pulled away from Dad. Felt her knuckles brush the torch. She lifted it. But then she realised she had a choice. Torch or knife. Torch or knife.
As her eyes adjusted to the pitch darkness that so many nights in the woods had accustomed her to, she pushed the torch away and lifted the knife.
“I’m going out there,” Chloë said.
“Going out there? What—”
“People are in danger. I won’t let them just die out there.”
“All due respect, angel, but you’re hardly going to beat them singlehandedly.”
“Well you better give me a hand then, hadn’t you?”
“I left my gun with the main group.”
“You what?”
“We agreed it’d be safest if—Chloë!”
Chloë wasn’t standing for any more of her dad’s talk.
She walked over to the door.
Rushed down the staircase. Tried to stay as silent as possible with nothing on her feet. She wanted to get a sense of her surroundings. A mental picture from the things she could hear, from the echoing of her gentle footsteps against the walls, from the smells and the tastes in the air.
She thought about this town. This town she’d been convinced was safe. She’d seen no blood. No trace of any monster attacks.
And yet she could hear gunfire cracking at the other side of the door.
She could hear the groans getting louder, louder…
She turned the handle.
Held her breath.
Stepped outside.
Even though it was pitch black, she saw them just feet away.
Someone lay on the concrete. Right in the middle of the road. A woman. Her guts were hanging out of her waist. Her old skin looked like it’d been torn away with the slightest of bites.
The woman was squirming.
Spurting out blood.
The woman was Suzy.
Chloë tasted sick. Another dead. Down to eighteen. Eighteen at most More were dead. More had to be dead.
This was it. She was losing them. They were all dying. All dying on her, tonight.
No. No, she had to fight.
She rushed over to Suzy’s side. At first, she wondered if maybe Suzy was still alive. If maybe she was choking on her own blood. If the monster attack had been pretty recent.
But when Suzy’s arm shot out and grabbed her left thigh, Chloë knew right away she’d already gone.
She heard her dad behind. Heard him running towards her.
But she held her balance. She held her balance because that’s what she had to do. If she wanted to be strong. If she wanted to be a leader.
She pulled back the knife.
Slammed it down.
Split through Suzy’s temple.
Mushed up her brains.
Suzy snarled. And Chloë could almost hear the pain in her dead voice.
But then she went still, and there was nothing.
“Chloë—up ahead.”
Chloë didn’t have to lift her head to know that monsters were coming her way. She smelled the rot. Tasted the body odour in the air. Three of them, at least. She could tell from the sound of their skinless feet against the hard concrete.
Three of them.
She could take two.
Dad could take one.
“Take the one on the left,” Chloë said.
“But—”
Chloë didn’t say anything else.
She just hurtled towards the two monsters in front.
Lifted her knife.
Waited for the sound of their snapping teeth to be within earshot and then…
Slam.
She stuck the blade between the eyes of the monster. Heard the one on the left tumble down as Dad cracked its skull with the torch.
She pulled the knife away from the monster’s head.
But it didn’t budge.
It was stuck.
Wedged in.
Chloë pulled back. But she could hear the monster in the middle getting closer. Behind them, she saw gunfire. Heard more screams. The supermarket. Something was happening at the supermarket. There was a light. The smell of burning.
The monster grabbed Chloë’s hair.
Dragged her towards it.
She lifted her feet.
Pressed them against the chest of the dying monster.
Felt it topple backwards.
She didn’t want to call her dad for help. She couldn’t always rely on her dad.
She had to be strong.
She had to fight.
She had to—
The knife split away from the monster’s skull.
Chloë fell down.
The monster landed on top of her.
She felt its weight knock the breath out of her chest. Felt its softening skull crack
against her forehead. She tried to call out for her dad this time. No choice. No choice because the monster was kneeling on her left arm. Her knife was dangling out of her fingers.
But she could hear more struggling.
Hear Dad struggling.
She felt the monster’s saliva roll down onto her face. Thick, slimy, bloody gunk.
She tensed her left hand.
Tried to arch it round.
She just had to stab it.
Just had to finish it off.
And then the monster shifted and the knife fell completely away from her fingers.
Chloë reached out for it but it was too far. She tried to grab the monster, also no use.
The monster’s face pressed up to her skin.
She felt its cold breath drool on her neck.
She held her breath.
Lifted her feet, her legs upwards.
Wrapped them around the monster’s skull.
And she squeezed.
She stuck her nobbly knees right into the sides of the monster’s head. Her legs were tougher after all her walking, all her running. They were much stronger than they used to be in P.E. Much stronger than they used to be in gymnastics.
So she pressed as hard as she could on the sides of the monster’s head.
Dug her knees even further into its temples.
Tensed.
Hard.
She heard her dad shout out as he toppled the monster. As he barged away from another. “Chloë!”
She looked him in the eye.
Saw his silhouette in the dark as the monster’s teeth pressed into her neck.
And then she heard a crack.
Her knees shifted.
Dampness covered them. A rotting egg smell filled the air.
The monster’s teeth went loose.
It took her a few moments to realise she’d crushed its head with her thighs.
She pushed it away. Dad helped pull her to her feet. “Come on,” he said. “We need to get inside. We need to get somewhere safe—”
“The supermarket,” Chloë said, grabbing her knife and running towards it like nothing had happened.
Dad sighed. Laughed. “Sometimes, I wish you were that timid girl you used to be.”
“She’d be dead right now.”
Chloë took down more monsters on the way to the supermarket. She fought them off. Remembered they weren’t the people they used to be. That the people they used to be were gone.