First Light (The Daylight Cycle, #1)

by Kody Boye

  Rose slamming herself into the door.

  Mary screaming, Lyra shouting—

  Hit him! Hit him again!

  His head succumbing to force.

  Lyra’s face a world of misery.

  Mary alone, crying in her room, then not waking up in the next morning.

  Dead.

  Getting back up.

  Rose’s eyes dilated as the clouds shifted to reveal blinding white sky.

  The two of them running—she and Lyra, the greatest and best of friends—toward the docks from a world of death and chaos and carnage.

  Hurry! a boy named Tommy had said, right before a woman with long blonde hair had aimed a rifle and fired into the eye of a creature hovering just over Rose’s shoulder.

  Escape.

  Carnage.

  Ireland.

  Storms.

  Crash landing—not once, but twice.

  The hand that fell to her gun, which was loaded with a single bullet.

  Here, in the middle of Southeastern Idaho, it seemed choice was bridged upon one woman’s thoughts—in her ability to take that gun and do what it was that could possibly be done.

  Could you do it, she thought, if you really wanted to?

  She’d never considered such a thing before. She’d been too strong, too determined. She’d always had someone with her. But now—

  Rose drew the pistol from its holster.

  “I’m sorry,” Rose said as she lifted the gun, tears streaming down her face as the promise she knew she could never keep came to mind.

  What are you? An American? a girl’s voice asked.

  Something touched her shoulder.

  Rose spun.

  Lyra stood before her.

  “You’re not real,” Rose whispered, holding the gun steady on her friend. “You’re… not…”

  The creature’s eyes paled before her eyes.

  It screeched.

  It lunged.

  She fired.

  This is it, Rose thought as she stumbled back, trembling, now conscious more than ever of what her actions had just wrought upon her. I’m fucking crazy. I’m fucking crazy. I—

  A throaty groan had her drawing the bat within seconds.

  She raised her club and hit it in the head. First once, then twice, then a third time—she beat its skull to a pulp and then lashed out with a sweeping flush of her foot. Bone snapped upon impact like the fine keratin of a growing branch, and sludge pooled from a twisted semblance of a mouth before it fell, its entire body twitching, fingers flailing, ankle jerking in spasms.

  Her faithful weapon’s last killing blow snapped it in half.

  “Fuck,” she gasped, casting the broken bat aside.

  She should’ve known better.

  The gun was the last resort.

  But it’d walked from the alley, touched her before she even heard it—

  It’s dead, she thought, trembling. It’s fucking dead.

  She reared back and hocked a glob of spit into what remained of the thing’s face.

  Somewhere nearby, a door opened, then closed.

  Someone’s alive?

  “You heard that?” a man’s voice asked, the clarity of which was so fine and clear it resembled nothing of this earthly world. “You did, didn’t you?”

  “I heard it,” another man replied.

  No, Rose thought, shaking, the tears once more returning to her face. It can’t be. No one’s alive. I’ve walked this whole while and not a single person has ever revealed themselves.

  “You think we should go look?” the man with the deeper voice asked.

  “You sure it was a gunshot?”

  “It couldn’t have been. Nothing around here makes that kind of noise.”

  Was this salvation?

  Was this finally what she’d been looking for?

  Something brushed her shoulder.

  There was nothing that could contain her scream as she spun to face her assailant.

  Rattlesnakes might have made similar noises had they been nearby. Dry, snarling, like cats with parched throats, the faint hiss that emanated from the corpse’s throat pulled Rose’s head out of the gutter completely free of any shit it had previously been covered in. Her first thought drove her to the bat in the road—splintered, but still useable—but the voices started yelling and the corpse turned its head toward the noise.

  Taking her chance, Rose lunged forward with her palm flat-out and struck the corpse in the chest. It stumbled back and fell to the ground, completely helpless as she screamed and jumped onto its chest. With her thick boots and its emaciated frame, what was left of its torso caved in with little resistance. Even the bones snapped like twigs as she brought her foot down and crushed its face in.

  Think logically. Go. Go!

  Could they be trusted? Liverpool was her lesson, the error quotient in her trial. Mary had been bitten all because of that stupid slag she’d been going with, all because she’d thought he’d loved her and—

  They’re not all like him. They’re not…

  Something groaned.

  In the near distance, a portion of a giant wall began to move.

  The broken, bloodied bat in her hand, Rose started down the road with her arm slack and her insides tense with anticipation. Her knuckles felt like they would explode out of their joints from the weight of her grip on the bat, but with her gun gone and new, possibly-dangerous men approaching, there was no shortage of nerves coursing through her veins.

  They could kill me, she thought, and I’m walking right into a trap.

  Would it be so bad though to have it end after so long? Sure, she could be killed, but would that really be such a bad thing, after all this time, all this suffering? At least if she were captured, she would have some security, some safety behind the wall.

  “They’re not doing anything,” she whispered to herself. “I’ll fucking kill them if they even try.”

  Raising her bat, she locked her other fist around its bloodied handle and braced it in front of her like a sword, ready for whatever was to come.

  You are strong, she thought. You are brave.

  “You have survived,” she said.

  The tip of a military-grade rifle came into view.

  Rose braced herself.

  “Come out!” she cried. “I’m not afraid of you!”

  “We’re not going to hurt you!” a man called out, raising a hand before lowering the muzzle of his rifle to the ground. “My name’s Jamie Marks! I was a corporal in the United States military before—”

  A gunshot rang out.

  Rose instinctively ducked. “Fucking hell!” she cried. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “You’re drawing attention to yourself!” the man who’d initially spoken said.

  “And us!” a second man, armed with a rifle, said as he stepped forward. “Listen up, because I’m only going to say it once. If you want in, you better come now, otherwise we’re going to close the gate.”

  “I--” Rose started, then stopped when a third shorter man appeared behind the two armed individuals.

  What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t stay out here, not after all the commotion that had occurred. And the people—they could offer shelter: protection, even, with their guns and high walls. But what if they weren’t good? What if they had some ulterior motive? What if—

  “Did you hear me?” the man who’d threatened her said.

  “I heard you!” she called back, turning her head to spit the blood that had accumulated in her mouth from her bitten tongue.

  “I’m not going to say it again!” the man cried. “Come now or else.”

  Rose let the bat fall at her side.

  With one final breath, she ran forward.

  “My name’s Rose,” she said as the man who’d initially threatened to lock her out wiped the blood and dirt from her face. “I’m from England.”

  “England?” a younger, possibly only teenaged boy asked. “How did you get here?”

/>   “By boat,” she said, then laughed. The men around her paused, as if to judge whether or not she was absolutely batshit insane, before her caretaker began to pad her face again. “Can you believe that?” she continued. “I came by fucking boat?”

  “How?” the man who’d introduced himself as Corporal Jamie Marks asked. “I mean, did you pilot it?”

  “I didn’t pilot it, Corporal; it drifted.”

  “What?”

  “It drifted?” asked the younger man, who’d been staying particularly close to the corporal. “How?”

  “I have no fucking idea,” she said. She lifted a hand to stop the man who she suspected was a medic from messing with her face. “All I know is that after everybody died, it was just me, my friend Lyra, and a man named E.J., who we rescued off the coast of Ireland.”

  “How long were you out there?” the man who’d been tending to her asked.

  “In the boat, or out there?” She gestured to the window.

  “The boat.”

  “I have no idea. You tell me.”

  “It’s been two months since everything happened,” the corporal said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Two months seems about right,” Rose said, standing. She waited a moment to consider her next action before stripping her bloodied T-shirt over her head—thinking the action would be enough to gauge their intentions, but knowing that it could potentially put her in danger.

  As such, she strode to the sink, but stopped as she felt their eyes on her. “What’s with the stares?” she asked, using the most biting tone she could muster. “Never seen a girl with her shirt off?”

  “No,” Jamie said. “It’s not that.”

  “Pray tell, officer.”

  “Corporal,” the man corrected. “And I don’t consider myself to be a part of the army anymore.”

  “Why’d you introduce yourself as such then?”

  “Because I wanted to seem important,” he said. “Because I wanted you to feel safe.”

  “I haven’t felt safe since the day Mary’s boyfriend came in and tried to eat my face off,” Rose said, lifting and uncapping a bottle of water that was sitting on the counter. “I’ll get you another one to replace this.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Oh, believe me, I’m not,” she chuckled, and poured a few drops into her palms before she leaned forward to scrub her hands. “You got any disinfectant?”

  “Soap will work,” her curious caretaker offered.

  “You a doctor?”

  “Nurse. Medic.”

  “Ah. Another Army boy.”

  “You said you didn’t know how long you were at sea,” Jamie said. “How long have you been here?”

  “I washed up on Rhode Island about a week or so ago. Anyhow—after I survived my crash landing and thought my friends were dead, I ended up in a place called Fort Hope, which was a private school the military had converted into a safe zone. You name it, they had it: guns, a secured perimeter—I even helped with a few of the supply runs.”

  “So why didn’t you stay there? I mean, with the military and all?”

  “They wanted to lure the zombies to the base to eliminate their numbers,” Rose sighed, patting her hands dry on a nearby dishcloth. “I didn’t feel safe. My friends did. So… I left. I was just about to turn back when I heard a girl and two men screaming.”

  “A girl and two men?” the teenage boy asked.

  “Can you describe them?” the man—whom she now assumed was the corporal’s male partner—asked.

  Rose took a moment to describe her fleeting encounter—how, while struggling to decide whether or not she should return to the safety of Fort Hope and her friends, she’d heard a scream, saw three individuals running up a hill, and then lured the zombies away to guarantee their safety. By the time she finished, not a person said a word. Most were breathless. Some of their mouths were even agape.

  “It had to have been them,” the teenage boy said.

  “Did they get to safety?” the medic asked.

  “I couldn’t stick around long enough to tell.” She paused, sweeping her gaze among the lot of them. “Wait… I’m missing something. Friends?”

  “Yeah,” Jamie said. “They were.”

  “Small world, huh.”

  “Yeah,” the corporal sighed. He brushed a hand through his hair, then lifted his eyes to meet her gaze.

  “You’ll have to fill me in on the whole story later.”

  “I will,” he said. “Have you eaten?”

  “No,” Rose said.

  The teenage boy—who’d been sitting on the nearby couch the entire time—jumped from his seat fast enough to startle her and rushed into the kitchen. She was momentarily distracted by the corporal’s partner moving aside before the boy appeared with what appeared to be cake.

  “Cake,” she smirked, almost unable to believe her eyes.

  “I made it last night,” the boy said, offering her a spoon.

  “Thank you.” She parted the cake with a spoon and slid it into her mouth. “God,” she said, tilting her head back the moment the taste hit her tongue. “Who’d have ever known it would taste so good?”

  “Guess you take things for granted,” Jamie said, then stepped forward to look at her. “You’re all right then?”

  “Doctor boy fixed me up, here.” Rose dropped the spoon onto the plate. “I’m tired and sore as Hell, though.”

  “Can I ask what happened to your car?”

  “It broke down up the road,” she lied—knowing that, despite their generosity and goodwill, there was still a chance they could pose a danger to her. “I was just about to break into one of the houses for the night before one of the dead fucks snuck up on me.”

  “I’m glad to hear you’re safe, ma’am.”

  “Don’t call me ma’am.”

  The corporal’s partner chuckled. The corporal elbowed him in the side, but that only made his laughter worse.

  “It’s nice,” Rose said, her heart alight with warmth. “To hear someone laughing, I mean.”

  “You’ve been alone for a very long time,” the corporal said. “Haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” Rose said, closing her eyes. “I have.”

  After being led by the corporal’s partner up the rickety stairs and to the only remaining bedroom in the house, Rose locked the door behind her and spun to examine her surroundings. Immaculate in their preservation, she was awestruck by the canopy bed and the curtains that surrounded it, the attaching bathroom and the toiletries she found within. With the bottle of water the young man had left her, she cracked the seal on a fresh toothbrush, cleaned her teeth, stripped out of her dirty jeans and approached the window in her panties. Though she was hesitant to part the blinds and look out at the world beyond this home, she did so anyway—and with eyes clouded by doubt and a heart filled with worry, stared at the road she’d only just walked upon.

  To think, she thought, that I almost died.

  That, in the blink of a moment, she’d been attacked by not one, but two zombies. Her body was succumbing to fatigue, her mind the horrible need for sleep. Her muscles ached and the scrape along her temple throbbed. She wanted nothing more than to fall asleep then and there—to crumple to the floor and curl into a ball upon the cool carpeting and sleep. And while she knew she could, something compelled her to look further.“What am I looking for?” she asked.

  The SUV was still in the same place—secured by the locks and bolts and the metal frame that had protected her for the past several days. The keys were still in the ignition, the tank mostly full. If she needed to flee at any moment—

  Stop.

  At once, the breath was expelled from her chest.

  She breathed fresh air into her lungs.

  She couldn’t doubt them already. Though they were strangers in a land of death and decay, they had opened their gates and offered to her the sanctuary of their homes. Their food, their shelter, the unabashed camaraderie—to them, she was nothing
more than a survivor: a woman who’d run the gauntlet and succeeded its grueling tests. So far, she’d felt nothing to indicate she had something to fear. But just because they wore sheep’s clothing didn’t mean they were not, in fact, wolves.

  You won’t know unless you give them a chance.

  “Unless you try,” she whispered.

  With a sigh, Rose allowed the curtain to fall from her grasp, then turned and started toward the bed.

  Beneath its thick covers—in its warmth, comfort and absolute safety—she closed her eyes and began to doze.

  After everything she’d gone through, she had nothing to fear.

  She’d survived.

  The story continues in Sunrise,

  Book 2 of the Daylight Cycle

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  About the Author

  Born and raised in Southeastern Idaho, Kody Boye began his writing career with the publication of his story [A] Prom Queen’s Revenge at the age of fourteen. Published nearly three-dozen times before going independent at eighteen, Boye has authored numerous works—including the short story collection Amorous Things, the novella The Diary of Dakota Hammell, the zombie novel Sunrise and the epic fantasy series The Brotherhood Saga. He is represented by Hannah Brown Gordon of the Foundry Literary + Media Agency.