by Ryan Casey
And a man. Also naked. His leg had been chewed so much that Chloë could see the bones, which flies swarmed around.
She looked at them.
Looked back at Dan, who kept on hurtling towards her.
And again, she ran.
She listened to the footsteps of the three monsters hurtling towards her. She’d heard the scream around here somewhere. Unless… No. No, that scream couldn’t have been these monsters. Monsters didn’t scream like that. They couldn’t scream like that.
But then she thought of some of the other monsters she’d seen since the world went bad. She thought of some of the stories she’d overheard. Stories of the monsters changing. “Adapting,” as Riley, a guy from her old group, used to put it.
She kept on running through the trees, which didn’t get any thinner.
The monsters kept on getting closer.
She wanted Mum.
She wanted Elizabeth.
She wanted her entire family.
She wanted—
Gunshots cracked through the trees to her left.
Three shots.
And then silence.
Chloë’s heart pounded. She turned around. Squinted back at the oncoming monsters.
They were all on the ground.
Blood rolling out of the heads of each.
Standing by their side, the dark-haired man called Colin.
He looked at Chloë. Nodded, his smile slanted.
Chloë nodded back at him. Her muscles went weak. She wanted to be still. To let the relief sink in.
And then she heard the scream again.
Her body tightened up.
It was right beyond Colin. Right behind him.
Chloë walked up to Colin. Stepped past him. Pushed aside the branches.
When she saw through the trees, a sour taste filled her mouth.
It was Cassandra. The woman who lost her baby while in the Church of Youth camp.
She was crouched beside her son, Reggie.
A hand on his shoulder.
Blood spurting out of a bite wound on his chest.
“It’s okay,” Cassandra said, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. Her ginger hair was tucked behind her ears. Her son just stared at his chest. Stared at the hole in his white t-shirt. He shook his head vigorously. “No. No. No. No.”
Chloë walked further into the middle of the scene. She saw Hassan. Anisha. She saw Jackson and Arnold. She saw her dad.
She walked up beside Reggie, a painful lump swelling in her throat. Her limbs felt so heavy. She just wanted to run. Run away. Get away from all of this. Get away from everything.
“Please,” Reggie cried, shaking his head, tucking it into his mother’s neck. “Please don’t let me turn. Please don’t let me turn.”
The sour taste built in Chloë’s mouth as she turned around. Walked over to Colin.
“The gun,” she whispered.
Colin lowered his head. “I—I just kept it cause—”
“Just give me the gun.”
Colin sighed. Shook his head.
Then he handed Chloë the gun.
Chloë turned back.
Walked over towards Reggie.
Every step was heavy. The lump in her throat morphed into a pain in her chest. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t lose another.
But she had to.
She couldn’t let Reggie suffer.
She couldn’t let him turn.
“Don’t let me go, Mum,” Reggie spluttered. “Please don’t let me turn.”
Cassandra looked up at Chloë. She sobbed uncontrollably, stroked the back of Reggie’s curly ginger hair. “It’s okay. We won’t let you turn. We won’t let you turn at all. My boy. My precious boy.”
Chloë felt nausea building inside as she stepped up to Reggie.
As the eyes of the group—the remaining ten—stared on at her.
“It’s okay, my boy,” Cassandra cried. She kissed her son’s head as he kept on crying. “It’s okay. Sweet boy. Sweet boy.”
She let go of his head.
Grabbed his hand.
Moved away.
Chloë didn’t want Reggie to open his eyes.
She didn’t want to give him a chance to understand what was about to happen.
So she held her breath.
Lifted the gun.
Fired.
The gunshot echoed through the woods. Cassandra’s cries filled the silence. Nobody spoke. Nobody said a word. There was nothing to say.
Chloë walked up to Reggie’s body. Looked down at him, eyes stinging.
She saw the bullet hole right in the middle of his forehead.
But more than anything—more than the blood, more than the bite mark on his chest—she saw his eyes.
His eyes were open.
Looking up at her.
He’d seen Chloë pulling the trigger after all.
He’d died knowing he was dying.
14
FOURTEEN
The remaining ten group members didn’t utter another word until the fateful debate at the camp three hours later.
They decided to rest as soon as they left the woods. There was an old log cabin just on the outskirts. It was cloudy now, raining, so everyone agreed it would be best if they got some shelter. By “agreed”, what actually happened was the group just sort of stopped walking when they reached the cabin.
Nobody said a word.
The exhaustion was clear to see.
The loss was clear to see.
Chloë stared at the smoking fire in front of her. The smell of it made her feel sick. A heaviness built in her stomach. Memories of the day’s events played through her mind on a loop.
Dave turning into one of those screaming monsters.
Dan following shortly after.
And Reggie. Cassandra’s son. Bitten.
Chloë putting a bullet through his skull.
She swallowed. Her mouth was so dry. She wasn’t sure when she’d last had a sip of water. In all truth, she didn’t want any. The thought of eating or drinking anything made her feel ill.
She just wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear.
She just wanted to get to Pwllheli with the rest of the group and… well. See what happened from there.
She glanced up at Hassan. He turned away the moment Chloë made eye contact with him. And then she looked at Jackson. At Colin. All of them glared at her with wide eyes. Like it was her fault. Like it was her failure.
She looked over at Alice.
Alice didn’t look back at her.
She just stared at the glowing fire.
Watched the wood crackle.
Chloë’s mind swam with all kinds of thoughts. The monsters, for one. The screaming monsters. What were they? Were they just the monsters in the woods? Or would all the monsters end up like them now?
And then the gun. The gun that Colin shot the three chasing monsters with. Why did he have a gun? He told her he’d found it. Kept hold of it. But had he? Was that the truth? All the guns were supposed to have gone. Stolen.
Was he lying?
Above anything, Chloë thought of Jackson. And when she did, a tenseness built in her stomach.
First, he’d started acting nicer toward her. Started supporting her.
And then he’d tried to get her to sneak into the camp by the motorway bridge.
But weirdest of all, when Chloë was pinned down by Dan’s monster, he’d held her knife. Stood there, wide eyed, not doing a thing to help her.
She didn’t know why—he was probably just frozen, probably just scared—but that memory brought a shiver to her skin whenever she revisited it.
No. He’s okay. He was just scared. That’s all it was. Just scared.
“So what now?”
Anisha’s voice cut through the silence. It was strange, hearing someone else talk. It’d been a long time since anyone said a word in this group.
Dean—a muscular black guy who kept his head down and didn’t say much—sno
rted. “Guess we just sit around and wait to die.”
“Don’t be like that,” Dad said.
“Be like what?” Anisha cut in. Her eyes were cold, hard. “He’s right. The way we’re going, he’s fucking right.”
“We lost people back there,” Dad said. “We lost three of our own. It’s bad. It’s terrible. But it’s—”
“Don’t you dare say ‘it’s just what happens in this world’ one more fucking time.”
Dad’s mouth hung ajar. He closed his lips. Sniffed up. Shook his head. “I won’t. Because you’re right. We’re losing a lot of people.”
A heaviness built in Chloë’s chest. She turned to her dad. “What do you—”
“We could’ve approached that group,” Dean said. “The one by the motorway bridge.”
Chloë shook her head. “But they were the ones who—”
“We could’ve asked them what they were doing. Asked them whether they had room for some more. And if they didn’t comply, we coulda killed ‘em.”
Chloë’s chest tightened. “But—but Jackson told me they—”
“Hey,” Jackson said. He smiled. Lifted his hands. “I told you the truth. Those were the people I saw. I told you we should head down there. That we should take a look inside. And that as a kid, you’d be best fit to take a look around. To build a kind of unity, you get me?”
Silence followed Jackson’s words. Warmth crackled from the flames.
Jackson lowered his hands. “But you didn’t. So we went through the woods. Avoided that group. Just like you said. And now we’re down to ten.”
Chloë turned to her dad. She didn’t like turning to her dad for support. She didn’t like feeling as if he was bailing her out of her battles.
But right now she needed him.
Right now she needed someone.
“You’re so fucking obsessed with avoiding other people,” Anisha said, “I’m starting to wonder whether you want us dead after all.”
Chloë’s head spun. She felt too tired to think. Too guilty to speak.
But she shook her head. “No. No. I went through the woods because I wanted to keep us safe. I wanted to keep us—”
“Well, good job there,” Dean said. He stood up. Wiped his hands together. “You only went and got a bunch of us killed. Great job.”
Dean walked towards the cabin. Headed inside. Hassan and Anisha followed. Then Colin, then Arnold.
“Where are you—”
“Resting,” Dean said.
Chloë looked around at the remaining group. Cassandra. Alice. Jackson. Dad.
She saw Cassandra crying. Wanted to ask her how she was. If she was doing okay.
She wanted to apologise for Reggie.
Apologise for her son.
But then Cassandra stood too.
Followed the group into the cabin.
Then, with a sigh, Jackson followed.
Jackson, who’d held Chloë’s knife.
Who’d left her to die.
Why had he done that?
Just a mistake?
Just a mistake, or—
“They’re right, y’know.”
The voice startled Chloë. She wasn’t sure where it came from. Not initially.
Then she looked across the fire and saw it could only possibly come from one source.
Alice.
She was on her feet now. Looking right at Chloë. Frowning.
“Alice, please don’t—”
“You led us through those woods. We trusted you.”
“But Jackson said—”
“Fuck what Jackson said. You’re supposed to be the leader. You’re supposed to make the calls. The right calls. And by that, I mean the right calls for the rest of the group. Not just for yourself.”
“I always do stuff for other people.”
“Like hide the news of the transmission? Like—like insist on pushing past every single fucking person we encounter? No matter how harmless they look. Really? That’s for other people?”
Flashes of all the times she’d turned away from other people filled Chloë’s mind. Made a thickness swell in her throat.
She’d done it because she cared about the rest of the group.
Not because she was afraid of other people.
Right?
She’d done it because she cared.
Surely that’s why she’d done it.
Alice walked to the cabin. Climbed the steps. Pushed open the door.
She glanced at Chloë. Then she turned away. Lowered her head.
“You’ve lost us, Chloë. Pete. Both of you. You’ve lost us. Not the other way around. Remember that.”
She disappeared into the cabin.
The door slammed against the wooden frame.
Echoed through the woods as Chloë and Dad stared at the dying flames, silent.
15
FIFTEEN
“Are you ready?”
“Ready? For—”
“For moving on.”
“But I thought—”
“Keep your voice down, fucking idiot.”
Jackson stood outside the cabin. It’d gotten pretty cramped in there in the night, so he’d opted to sleep in the glowing embers of the fire. Arnold and Colin were awake now, though. Cassandra, Dean, Anisha and Hassan, they were snoring away inside. Chloë and Pete had found some other place nearby. Fucking treehouse or something.
Wise. Because if she’d slept in the cabin, someone might’ve just killed her in her sleep.
Maybe it would’ve worked out better that way.
Colin rubbed the back of his sweaty head. “So what’s the plan?”
“Before we talk about the ‘plan’, I think it’s about time we spoke about your fucking plan.”
Colin frowned. “My plan? What—”
“That stunt you pulled. Back in the woods. Getting your gun out and shooting the zombies chasing Chloë. The fuck was that all about?”
Colin lowered his head. Jackson could only just see him in the moonlight, but enough to work out he was avoiding eye contact. “I—I shot ‘em cause I thought they were coming for me.”
“You thought they were coming for you?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes… Oh look, I just got fucking scared, okay? I got fucking scared.”
Jackson tutted. Shook his head. “What about you, Arnold? Are you gonna get fucking scared?”
Arnold didn’t say a word. His hard face and droopy eyes just focused on Jackson. He shook his head.
“Good,” Jackson said. “Should fucking think not.”
He turned away from the log cabin. Walked past the smouldering embers where the fire had burned. His body tingled all over. His palms were covered in sweat. He couldn’t stop wetting his lips.
Because this was the moment.
The moment they made their move.
The moment they broke away.
“If we leave now, it’ll be understandable,” Jackson said. “To Chloë and the others, it’ll just look like we’ve had enough. Got sick of her leadership.”
“But she’ll know.”
“Know what?”
Colin looked at the ground. “Where—where we’re going.”
Jackson stared at Colin for a moment.
Then, he smiled.
“Yes. Yes she will.”
He turned around and carried on towards the darkened road ahead.
“What about the others?” Colin called.
Jackson tutted. Fucking Colin and his fucking questions. “What others?”
“You know. The… the others. Who’re in. With us.”
Jackson thought about the others. The ones who’d agreed to join his group when a chance to break free of Chloë’s grasp finally arrived. “They all have their roles. Everyone has their roles. And they’ll find us. Eventually, they’ll find us. They’ll know where to go.”
Jackson pulled a Glock 17 out of his pocket. Armed forces weapon. Weren’t hard to come by in the early days
of the fall. His trusty weapon. Plenty of ammo for it, too. Did that naive little bitch really think he’d just lose his weapon? Did she really think some mystery fucking bandits had charged through Hopeforth, destroyed it?
If she did, then she really had lost her grip.
And it was just as well he was changing the order around here while he had the chance.
“What about her?” Colin asked.
Jackson stopped. Rolled his eyes. Turned around. “Jesus Christ. What about who?”
Colin’s face twitched. “Chloë.”
“What about Chloë?”
“She’s… she’s not just gonna give up. I don’t like the girl. Gives me the creeps. But she’s not just gonna let this go. You’ve seen how she is.”
Jackson couldn’t help but smile. He had seen how Chloë was. He’d watched her break into the Church of Youth stronghold. He’d watched her tear that group apart from within. He’d watched her slice throats. Unlock the cell doors. Let him out.
And he respected her for that. He respected her strength. Respected her resolve. But a lone massacre didn’t make a girl a leader. No, they’d lost too many people. Lost too many people by turning others away. By not recruiting. By not building an army. A force. Something to be respected.
And in some cases, to be feared.
She’d made a mistake. Her dad had allowed that mistake to grow into something else entirely. Something deadly.
And Jackson wasn’t going to watch any more people die.
He wasn’t going to go soft any longer.
“Like I said. Yes. She’ll know exactly where we’re going. And we can use that to our favour.”
“How?” Colin asked.
Jackson turned away from Colin. Looked at the dark sky ahead. Looked at the fields. At the roads. At the long route to Pwllheli still to make.
“You’ll see.”
He reached into his pocket. Pulled out Chloë’s knife. It still had some zombie blood on the blade.
“There are more effective ways to get rid of a person than murder.”
He rubbed his finger along the blunt edge of the knife.
“And that’s exactly what we’ve got planned.”
He took in a deep breath.
Smiled.
He was going to do this.
He was going to make the group stronger.
And he was going to lead the group to Pwllheli.