“Who?”
“It bit Michael,” Amelia says.
“Who’s Michael?”
“He’s our foster dad,” he says, sniffing, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his red jumper. “And then our foster dad bit our foster mum.”
A cold shudder slithers over my skin. “And where are your foster parents now?”
Josh points at the kitchen door. “They’re in the living room.”
16
The thought of these children, under the same roof as two Necs makes me almost sick to my stomach. This should never have happened. Someone should have got them out this morning. They should be safe and sound, away from this shit-hole, away from all the infection. Not decapitating bloody Necs in their own garden.
“Is the door sealed off?” I ask by the kitchen door, listening out for groans, signs of movement.
“Yeah,” Amelia replies, standing next to me, with her brother by her side, holding her hand. “It’s locked from the inside.”
“A lock?”
“Yeah. Juliet had one put in last summer after Josh broke one of her ornaments.”
“It was an accident!” Josh snaps. Amelia shushes him, and he frowns hard at her.
“How is the door locked from the inside?” I ask, frowning in confusion.
“Juliet locked herself in,” she replies. “Before she turned.”
“Oh, Jesus. What happened?”
“None of us saw Michael get bitten,” Amelia struggles to say, clearly holding back her tears. “We just heard screaming. I was in my bedroom, and Juliet was getting Josh ready for school. Michael must have seen the man in the garden and went out to him. He couldn’t have known about the outbreak. None of us did. We rushed downstairs to see what the noise was. By the time we got to the kitchen, Michael was crawling across the floor, bleeding from the side of his neck. We saw the man in the garden, blood all over his mouth, limping towards the house. Juliet slammed the back door in his face and went to Michael. She told me to grab a tea towel, to keep pressure on his neck. But it was too late—he died.”
I look down at the floor, noticing the faint bloodstain still not completely mopped up.
“Me and Juliet dragged his body into the living room. We put him on the couch and then called an ambulance. But when we got through, they said that we’d have to stay in our homes until Disease Control got here.”
“Oh, my God,” I say, shaking my head, glancing at Josh’s distraught face. Way too young for all this shit. “That’s terrible.”
“Juliet sat with him, crying her eyes out. Don’t think she believed he was dead. And she was right. I watched his eyes open. Then he just sat up and took a bite out of her arm. That’s when we knew exactly what was going on.”
“Is that why she locked herself in with him?” I ask. “To protect you from her and Michael?”
Amelia nods. “She told us to stay away from the door, to not let her out for anything. Josh was crying, so we locked ourselves in my bedroom. And that’s when we saw you.”
I pause for a moment, trying to think of my next plan of action. So far all I’ve done is get my partner killed, run for my life, and almost get eaten. Can’t screw up now. Not with these kids trapped here. “Where’s your phone?” I ask, but then I spot it attached to the wall by the window.
“Who are you calling?” Amelia asks, pointing at the phone. “We’ve tried calling for help.”
“I might have more luck.” I dial 999 and within seconds a woman’s voice appears on the other end of the line.
“999. Which emergency service do you require?”
“Hi. My name is Catherine Woods. I’m a Cleaner for Disease Control. I’m trapped in a place called Crandale. It’s under—”
“Please hold,” she says, cutting me off.
There’s silence for a few seconds until I hear an automated voice: “Your area is under government quarantine. Please stay in your homes at all times. Make sure all your doors and windows are locked. Ensure that all lights and loud electrical equipment remain switched off. If a person is showing signs of infection, avoid or contain them until help arrives. Do not attempt to confront infected persons. Above all else, please stay calm. Your area is under government quarantine. Please stay in your homes at all times. Make sure all your doors and windows are locked. Ensure that all lights and—”
Returning the phone back onto its cradle, I try to hide the grave disappointment on my face.
“What did they say?” Josh asks, hopeful.
“They said to sit tight for now. Help is on the way.”
“Is there someone else you can call?” Amelia asks. “Maybe the other Cleaners?”
“I’ve already tried them on the radio. Can’t get through.”
“Phone your boss then.”
“I don’t know the number,” I reply, shaking my head, pissed off that I didn’t memorise it. “It was saved in my mobile. And I don’t have it on me.”
“How come you don’t know it off by heart?” Amelia asks, frowning, suspicion in her tone.
I sigh, ignoring her question, trying to think of another way to get the number. “Where’s your computer? I should be able to find it online.”
“It’s in the living room.”
“Shit.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Amelia says. “We don’t need anyone. We’ve got you. You can get us out of Crandale.”
“It’s not safe out there. You saw it yourself. There’s just too many of them. We need to stay put and wait for help.”
“What if Juliet and Michael decide to kick the door open? What are we supposed to do then?” Amelia snaps.
“They won’t. As long as we don’t make too much noise. Necs respond mainly to sound and movement. They won’t bother us.”
What the hell do I know? I’m just a worthless trainee.
“Look, if it makes you feel better,” I say. “I’ll go check on the door. Make sure it’s secure.”
I grasp the handle of the kitchen door and twist it. Josh leaps forward, pushing my hand away. “Don’t,” he says, his words filled with dread. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I’ll be quick.”
“They’ll hear you.”
“No, they won’t. I’ll be quiet. You and your sister just stay in here, and I’ll be right back. I promise.”
Amelia takes her brother’s hand and pulls him into her. “Just let her go. She’s a Cleaner. She knows what she’s doing.”
Do I?
No partner. No helmet. No gun. No backup.
I open the door slowly and step out into the hallway. The light is on. I see the switch on the wall and knock it off. Can’t see anything. There’s a faint glow coming from the street lamp outside, leaking in through the glass of the front door, but that’s it. As my eyes adjust to the low light, I see a door to the left of the front door. It’s closed. Must be the living room. Tiptoeing towards it, all I can think about is Andrew, and why he’s not here with me, leading the way, keeping me safe. A rush of guilt washes over me when I picture him taking his helmet off to console me.
Why did I have to cry?
Couldn’t I have just sucked it up, let it out after the job was done? We still hadn’t finished sweeping the house. If I had just swallowed the pain a little harder, cried when I got home—on my own bloody bed—Andrew would still be alive.
I stop myself from crying when I reach the living room. Leaning in close to the door, I listen out for movement, for faded growls, footsteps. Peering down at the doorknob, I feel the urge to twist it just to make sure that it’s definitely locked from the inside. I mean, what if it’s not? What if she turned before she got a chance to turn the key? Can’t even contemplate trying the doorknob, can’t risk disturbing them. I’m no match for two Necs. Not now. Not without a weapon or helmet. As long as we’re quiet, and we stay away from the door, I can’t see them being much of a threat. Help won’t be that long, surely. Once they get wind of the extent of problems here, they’re bound to send in reinforcements.
They can’t just leave us here. There’s got to be some—
There’s a loud thud on the door, followed by a low-pitch moan. I almost scream out in fright but somehow manage to rein it in. Backing away, I retreat into the kitchen.
“Is it safe?” Amelia asks.
“I think so,” I reply, my voice lacking any real conviction.
“What do you mean you think so? Is that lock gonna keep them in or not?”
“I don’t know, Amelia. I can’t risk twisting the doorknob in case it disturbs them. I mean, you were there when she locked the door. Did you hear her lock it?”
“Yeah. She did,” Josh intervenes. “I heard the clicking noise.”
“Me, too.”
“Then we should be fine,” I say. “If we leave them be, there’s no reason to think that they’ll try to get out. So let’s just go upstairs and lock ourselves in the biggest bedroom. Wait ‘til morning. I’m sure this will all be over by then.”
Amelia looks at her brother, her eyes brimming with distrust, and then back at me. “You promise?”
“Of course,” I reply. “We’ll be fine. As long as we stay together.”
“What if they get us in our sleep?” Josh asks, frantically.
“Don’t be silly,” Amelia says. “We won’t be sleeping tonight. Not with those things down here.”
He nods, the fear in his wide eyes apparent. “Okay, sis. If you say so.”
She pulls her brother in close to her, and kisses him on the top of his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.” She looks up at me. “We both will.”
I nod and force out an assertive smile. “Nothing’s going to happen, buddy. I promise.” I give the kitchen a quick scan. “Do you have any weapons? A baseball bat? Cricket bat? Anything to use as a precaution?”
Josh shrugs. “Don’t think so. Not very good at sports.”
“We did have a spade,” Amelia points out, “but I left it outside when I took the man’s head off.”
“Okay. Doesn’t matter.” I go over to the cutlery drawer and pick out the largest knife I can find. It’s not very sharp, or big, but it’s better than nothing. “This’ll do. We won’t need it, anyway.”
“Should we take our shoes off, Cath?” Josh suggests. “We’ll be quieter going up the stairs.”
“That’s a great idea,” I say with a smile. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
He returns a proud beam and sits on the chair, pulling his white trainers off without loosening the laces. Amelia sits on the other chair and does the same with her blue ones. I crouch down, untie my laces, and yank off my thick boots.
“Keep them with you,” I say, and then motion with my head for them to follow me out of the kitchen. “Just in case.”
Creeping out into the hallway, knife pointed straight ahead, I lead them warily towards the stairs. I glance back at the kids as we get to the living-room door; Amelia has her brother’s hand held tight. We move even slower past the door, one at a time, until we reach the foot of the stairs. Tiptoeing up, I clench when I hear the slightest of creaks. Luckily, there’s virtually no sound by the time we arrive at the top. Thank God.
On the landing, I see four doors, and a small window that looks down onto the garden. “Which room?” I whisper.
Amelia points to a door on the left.
“Wait,” Josh whispers, pulling out of his sister’s hand, swiftly disappearing into one of the other rooms on the right.
“What’s he doing?” I quietly ask Amelia. But before she can answer, he emerges with a Spider-Man soft toy, holding it tight to his chest.
Amelia rolls her eyes and grabs his hand again, pulling him to the room on the left.
As we enter the large bedroom, I nearly switch the light on but stop myself just before.
Josh closes the door. There’s a key in the lock, so I twist it, and then check the handle to make sure the room is secure. It’s almost pitch black apart from the street lamps outside the window, trickling through the thin slit of the drawn curtains. I see a small bedside lamp on the right side of the room and then switch it on at its dimmest setting. Sighing loudly in relief, I sit on the double bed. The two children join me.
“Put your shoes back on,” I say, placing the knife on the bedside cabinet, and then slipping my feet back into my boots.
“Why?” Josh asks. “I thought we were going to bed.”
“Just in case we have to leave in a hurry.”
“Okay,” he replies, putting his tiny shoes on, his sister doing the same.
“Is this your parents’ bedroom?” I ask, eyes examining the room.
“They’re not our parents,” Amelia corrects me, with a slight bitterness in a tone.
“Sorry. I’m meant your foster parents.”
She nods. “Yeah. We’re never allowed in here. They have a key for pretty much all the rooms.”
“Why’s that?”
“They don’t trust us.”
“Why not?”
“Because they don’t know us.”
“So how long have you been with this family?”
“About ten months.”
“Oh, right. Not that long then.”
Amelia shakes her head. “No. We’ve been in foster care since Josh was a baby. Michael and Juliet were our eighth family.”
“Eighth? Really?”
“Yeah. Social services wanted to keep us together. So it’s been hard to find a family that wants two kids. We’ve had to move around a lot. But it’s fine. You get used to it.”
“I bet you do. So what happened to your parents?”
“Mum died of an overdose just after Josh was born. And Dad? Well…who knows. Haven’t seen him in about ten years. Last thing I heard he was living in Scotland with his new family.”
“I’m sorry.”
Amelia shrugs her shoulders, dropping the ends of her lips as if it’s no big deal. “Doesn’t bother us. We don’t need him.” She turns to her brother, taking his hand. “Do we, Josh? We don’t need anyone. We’re better off on our own.”
“You’re right, you have each other. Must be pretty cool having a brother or a sister.”
“Don’t you have one?” Josh asks.
“No. Just little-old-me. I always wanted one, though. I was always jealous of my school friends. Having someone to talk to, to look out for.”
“What about your Mum and Dad?” Amelia asks. “Couldn’t you talk to them?”
“Yeah. I suppose. But it’s not the same. Like my Dad, for instance: he’s always wanted me to go to university, get a normal job. He thought that me wanting to be a Cleaner was a dumb idea, something only men should do. Even as a little girl, all I could think about was being a Cleaner. I thought it would be the coolest job on the planet.”
“Isn’t it?” Amelia asks. “Shooting zombies all day? Sounds like fun to me.”
I shake my head. “It’s not. You see some horrible things. Like you’ve both seen already. And it’s dangerous. I lost a friend today.”
“What happened?” Josh asks.
“He got bitten.”
“Did he turn?” Amelia asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I hope not.”
“That’s awful,” she says, putting her hand over mine. “I’m sorry you lost your friend. What was his name?”
“Andrew. Andrew Whitt,” I reply, struggling to stop myself from welling up again. “But you’re safe with me. You don’t have to worry.”
For the first time I see a tiny smile on Amelia lips, softening that hard-ass exterior. “So how long have you been a Cleaner?” she asks.
I pause for a moment, before answering. Do I tell the truth, that this is only my second day on the job? No, I can’t. It’ll scare the hell out of them. Can’t have them panicking. Especially the boy. It’s too risky.
So I’ll lie.
“I’ve been a Cleaner for about two years.”
“So is this the worst outbreak you’ve had so far?” Josh asks me, leaning over his sister
to look at me, his eyes wide with obvious worry.
“No. This is nothing.” More bloody lies. “We’ve had a lot worse outbreaks than this. We’re just a little understaffed. That’s all. Nothing for you to worry about. This will all be sorted by the morning. You’ll see.”
He nods and then lies back on the bed, his head pressed against the white pillow. “What will happen to them?”
“To who?” I ask, frowning in confusion.
“Michael and Juliet. What will happen to them when your friends come to save us?”
I can’t help but stutter as I think of a more child-friendly way to say that they’ll be sent to a furnace—and cremated to cinders.
“They get burnt, Josh,” Amelia answers for me, her tone harsh, straight to the point.
“Really?” he asks with raised eyebrows.
“Yep,” she continues. “Everyone who’s infected gets burnt. The dead can’t be killed. It’s the only real way to get rid of them.”
“What if I was bitten? Would they burn me too?”
Amelia nods. “Well…yeah. But I won’t let that happen. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.”
“You promise?”
She leans over her brother and kisses him on the cheek. “I promise.” She then crawls beside him, pulling him in close for a hug.
Poor girl. She’s probably had to grow up so fast; had to be a mother to him, trying to keep him safe.
Well now it’s my job. And I won’t let them down.
I smile at the siblings, as they lie there on the bed, almost oblivious to the danger that lurks outside. Maybe I should just be straight with them. Lay my cards on the table. Give them the honest truth—that I’m in way over my head—and know Jack shit about being a Cleaner.
After a few minutes, I get up and walk up to the window. Pulling open the curtains an inch or two, I peer down onto the street. Seems quiet. Can’t see any Necs. Maybe things aren’t as bad as I thought. Maybe the other Cleaners have got it under control. Moving over to the other side of the window, something catches my eye. Just down the street a little, I see a front door hanging wide open. A man comes running out. Then a woman. The man trips up on the pavement and crashes down on the road, facedown. The woman staggers towards his motionless body and mounts him. I wince when I see her tear off his ear with her bare teeth. Then another woman comes sprinting up the street, and starts biting into his hand, ripping off most of his fingers in one wrench. I let the curtain go in disgust and return to the edge of the bed.
The Zombie Saga (Book 2): Burn The Dead (Purge) Page 11