A World Alone (Dead World Series Book 1)

by R. K. Weir

  Except for the parasitic ones, I think. And then I realize that that must be what Gale is, a parasite, leeching off the help of others to survive. He wouldn't last an hour on his own, but I suppose that doesn't matter as long as he's got a group to keep him alive.

  I wonder how many people have died protecting him, and how I'm going to make sure that I'm not one of them.

  Looking over my shoulder I see that we only have one firework left. The job has gone smoother than I thought it would. If I had known it was going to be this easy, I wouldn't have put up such a fight.

  Although stealing the car is still a formidable thought in my mind, I’ve decided that it would be pointless after all this. Logan should be appeased now that I've helped them out, or he'd better be. One of the main reasons I had changed my mind was so that I could keep him.

  It's no lie that my chances of survival increase significantly if I have him around, acting as my shield; the first line of defense. I think about this, and wonder if that makes me a parasite, no better than Gale.

  No, I conclude, giving a light shake of my head. I'm not useless like him. I wouldn't cower in a corner like I imagine he would.

  Thinking about it annoys me. How he's nothing but a freeloader, coasting along on other people's hard work. I glance at the last destination that Aaron has marked on the map and realize that we should be there in ten minutes.

  I decide that I'm not going to let him sit in the car. If Aaron wants him to toughen up, he isn't going to get anywhere by sitting in the car while I do all the work.

  "Last firework," I say, driving the car round a sharp turn in the road. "Why don't you light it?"

  In my peripheral vision I can see his eyes widen, his glasses magnifying them into two large saucers. Already his hands begin to shake.

  "Oh!" he exclaims, as though someone had pricked him with a needle. "Oh, I, uh— I don't think that's such a good id—"

  "Great!" I interrupt, realizing that if I'm going to get anywhere with him, it'll be through sheer force. I think of how Aaron didn't give him a chance to say no when he asked him to come with me, and how that had obviously worked, because if it hadn't he wouldn't be sitting next to me.

  Which might have been preferable.

  Digging into my pocket, I throw him the lighter, trying not to smirk as he fumbles to catch it.

  "I just really don't think—"

  "You'll be fine," I cut in again, not wanting to hear him ramble about how afraid he is. I pull the car off the road, parking next to a small hill. We haven't quite reached the destination that was marked on the map, but I figure this should be good enough.

  I don't wait for him to get out first. Instead I turn in my seat and grab the firework before getting out of the car. I stretch my legs out in front of me before climbing the small mound of dirt, kicking at the soil to loosen it up. I try to ignore the fact that Gale hasn't gotten out of the car yet as I stab the firework into the ground, pointing it straight up towards the sky.

  All the guy has to do is light the damn wick.

  I've encountered children braver than him. I look around the spot that we've parked, on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. I don't see any infected, so I walk down from the hill, needing only a few steps to get back to the car. I open the passenger door and look down at him. He isn't even looking at me; he's staring ahead, swallowing the visible lump in his throat.

  "Are you coming?" I ask, trying not to let my impatience show. He doesn't reply straight away, instead he stares ahead for another minute before slowly craning to look in my direction.

  "I-I think you should do it." He tries to hand me the lighter, but I grab his wrist instead and yank him out of his seat. He stumbles, his long legs awkwardly caught in the car as his upper half falls to the ground. He sputters out a yell, but I ignore him, pulling him to his feet.

  I swat away the dust that he's kicked up, blinking it from my eyes. Dirt has streaked itself across his white shirt, and he grimaces down at it in disdain. Glaring up at him, I throw a finger out towards the firework standing on top of the small hill.

  "Go and light the firework!" I demand, feeling rather foolish for having to wrestle him from the car. He looks over to the hill and I pause, wondering why I'm bothering to help him at all.

  There's nothing for me to gain. There's no reason for me to even bother. I'm not his teacher, and I don't have to be. He looks back to me and I realize that he isn't going to do it.

  A spark of annoyance flares up inside of me, but is doused when I remind myself that it isn't my job to teach him.

  "Fine," I sigh through gritted teeth, snatching the lighter from him, "I'll do it." I brush past him, making sure to hit him with my shoulder as I go. He makes a noise but I don't bother turning to look back at him. Instead I climb the hill and light the wick of the firework.

  I step back as it begins to sizzle, the wick quickly burning away until it reaches the base and shoots upwards. I glance up, watching it burst, bright colors surging out in different directions, like the petals of a blooming flower. I look down at Gale from atop the hill and throw my hands out at him.

  "Was that so hard?" I ask. His body is already turning to get back in the car when he looks up at me, his eyes widening considerably.

  "Look out!" he yells. My brows pinch together at the panic on his face. I'm about to ask him what's wrong when I feel a sharp pressure digging into my right leg.

  My eyes snap down to see a hand clasped around my exposed ankle, its brittle nails already digging into the skin. I try to jump forward, attempting to dislodge its grasp but its hold is too firm and I find myself losing balance. The lighter flies from my hand as I fall from the small hill, my arms whipping out in front to cushion the impact.

  The ground is hard where I hit it.

  A panic has settled over me now as I try to crawl away, but can't. I look back at the infected man that has grabbed me, its body pulled halfway over the hill when I fell. Its teeth, black from previous meals are gnashing wildly at my foot.

  I kick my leg out at it, the heel of my boot striking it on the crown of its bald head. I don't expect its skull to crack under the pressure, but it does, the sharp bone already protruding through the skin.

  "Gale!" I yell as my boot sinks into its temple, doing little to deter it. "Get the baseball bat!"

  I pull my leg back and kick it in the face again, its nose snapping out of place. "Gale!" I scream.

  I don't have to look to know that he isn't doing anything. He couldn't even light a damn firework. He's probably sitting in the car, ready to drive off without me.

  I kick out at it again, the tip of my foot striking it under the chin. Its grasp loosens the slightest bit as dark blood spurts from its open mouth. I pull my leg free and grab wildly at mounds of dirt, dragging myself away from it.

  My stomach drops at the sight of blood, trickling from my ankle. No, I think, the word quiet in my mind. I can't be infected, I can't be. I'm about to lean forward and inspect the wound when the infected begins to push itself up from the ground. I jump back, grabbing onto the cars bumper to help lift myself up.

  Gale stands frozen by the side of the car, his spindly arms wrapped around his body. I try to pull the trunk open, but it refuses. I left the keys in the car. I turn to get them when the infected reaches me, its hand wrapping itself around my wrist this time. I snatch myself away before it has a chance to get a grip.

  "The keys!" I yell to Gale. "Get me the keys!" I slam my palms against the infected man's torso. He stumbles back a few steps but remains resolute. I turn to find Gale standing stock still and watching the exchange with wide eyes. "Get me the fucking keys, Gale!" I scream, slamming my hands down on the car.

  He hears me this time, the noise jolting him awake as his attention snaps to my palms splayed out on the trunk. With his head bobbing in short, stuttered nods, he climbs into the car, reaching for the keys in the ignition. I turn back to the infected and kick it in the stomach just as it is about to reach me. Its be
lly feels squishy and full, like it has had a meal recently. I cringe at the sensation.

  "H-h-here!" Gale stutters, leaning out of the car, the keys dangling in his hand. He chucks them towards me but his throw falls short and the keys land in the dirt beside the car. Ducking down, I scoop them up and jam them into the lock.

  Its hand falls on my shoulder as I pop the trunk open, its nails gouging into my flesh. Its head is nearing my neck when I grab one of the baseball bats and swing it out randomly. The bat makes an impact with its crown, forcing its face away from mine. I take a step away and thrust the end of the bat into its chest, knocking it over.

  It's writhing around in the dirt, kicking up a storm of dust when I swing the bat down on its skull. The bone crunches under the metal, fragments of blood and cartilage bursting in every direction. It moans and I swing again, and again, and again. I keep swinging until nothing is left but a distorted pool of blood, its features indistinguishable save patches of skin and shards of bone sticking out in random directions.

  I huff out a breath, standing over its corpse. The bat slips from my grip as I drop to the ground, pulling the leg of my jeans up. I prod at the small cut on my ankle, wiping away the stream of blood that has formed. Relief washes over me as I realize it isn't a bite.

  It isn't a bite, I think again, the words soothing me.

  "Stella?" Gale asks, his voice still a quiver. I hear his footsteps crunching in the dirt as he walks around the car towards me. "Are-are you al—" he stops short as he catches sight of the infected on the ground. He stumbles back as I stand up.

  "Oh my god," he mumbles, his body practically caving in on itself. "There's so much blood!" His body snaps like a twig as he bends over, vomiting. I glare at him, a rage building inside of me.

  "No shit, Gale! Why don't you paint a picture with it, maybe that way you'll be useful!" I shout. His eyes widen at me, his lower lip trembling as he thinks of something to say.

  "I-I-I-"

  "You what?" I ask, stepping forward and shoving him against the car. "You fucking what!"

  His skin has withered into a shade of pale I didn't think possible.

  "I almost died because of you!" I yell. He's bowed his head now, his lips quivering more ferociously. His entire body is shaking so much that he’s practically convulsing. I want to hit him, but I restrain myself. He sniffles and I realize that he's on the verge of tears.

  "A parasite," I sneer, "that's all you are."

  I'm about to say more when I hear a soft boom, like the sound of distant thunder. I turn towards it, my brows pinching at the sight of black smoke. Another soft boom follows, and I can just make out the dazzling colors of a firework amidst the darkened clouds.

  "Is that. . ." The words trail off as another firework goes off, the smoke reaching out like a hand into the sky.

  "The school," Gale finishes for me, his glasses pulled down to the tip of his nose as he peers over them. I look back at him, confusion and dread mixing together and making me feel unwell.

  Something bad must have happened, I think. Something really bad. I stagger back from Gale, my mind already reeling at all the possible scenarios. Before I even have time to form a plan, I'm running round the side of the car, shutting the boot and taking the keys. I'm in the driver’s seat when another firework goes off, its color dancing with the smoke, fighting against the blue of the sky.

  I've jammed the key into the ignition when Gale slides in, his hands shaking profusely and tears streaking his cheeks.

  "W-we have to hurry!" he says, fidgeting with his seat belt. My hand pauses on the wheel as I pull the car back onto the road.

  The smoke, it's going to attract every horde in the vicinity. The school will probably be overrun by the time we make it back. My foot hovers above the accelerator, my panicked mind struggling to form a coherent plan.

  "Why aren't you driving?" Gale squeaks beside me.

  I have a car, I think. That's all I need. I don't need to go back to the school. I can ditch Gale somewhere and drive the rest of the way. My grip tightens around the leather wheel as my mind strays to Logan. I don't need him, not if I have a car. I spit the words out before my mind has a chance to change.

  "I'm not going back," I tell him, turning the car around.

  "What?" Gale asks, "b-but we have to help!" I repress a snort, wondering how he could possibly be of any help.

  "This was us helping," I say, referring to the fireworks. "We did our part, I don't owe them anything anymore." My teeth grit at the thought that this was all for nothing. I just risked my life for nothing. I almost died for nothing. I knew I shouldn't have agreed to help them. I should have just left without Logan, I've survived long enough without him, I can do it again. He was nothing but a safety net, nothing worth going back for.

  Gale is looking around the car now, and I can tell that he’s panicking. His hands are fidgeting in his lap when he slaps them down on his thighs to steady them.

  "No!" he shouts. "W-we have to go back!"

  "For what?" I ask.

  "W-we have to help!"

  I don't suppress my snort this time, I make sure that he can hear it. "Because standing in a corner doing nothing is so damn helpful!" I spit at him, my anger from earlier renewing itself now. He frowns at his lap, his lips quivering like his voice.

  "They're our friends."

  My foot eases off the accelerator as I round a bend in the road, a group of infected now visible up ahead, running in the direction of the school. Towards us. His words sink into the pores of my skin, like an acid that burns with guilt. I try to ignore what he has said, to shove it from my mind. But it lingers like smoke, suffocating every other thought.

  Rule one, I tell myself, don't make attachments. A sigh seeps from my lips as I realize, no matter how many times I tell myself that, I'll never actually listen.

  I could drive through the group of infected ahead of us. I could drive around them.

  I could drive anywhere.

  But I turn the car around, and drive towards the school instead.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Logan

  The smoke is suffocating. Like a heavy curtain that has been draped over you. It settles on your skin and clings to it, leaving a film of grime. It seeps into your lungs, making you heave, and it stands tall over the school like an omen of death.

  The white tips of the flames reach out like streamers in the wind, entangling themselves in the low hanging branches of the tree above. Its dead canopy is alight in seconds, fire dancing along every stick and twig. Its remaining leaves begin to fall, small flames cradled in their crinkled palms.

  I try to think of what I can do as the fire spreads to the roof of the English block. But my thoughts have been smothered by the smoke, and my mind comes back blank. People have dispersed like water from the surrounding buildings to come and look at the spectacle. Their reactions a mirror of each other.

  It isn't long before a panic settles over them.

  "Get water!" Rocket screams. "Buckets!" I don't need to see her to know how much pain she is in. It's carried in her voice, hoarse above the cackle of the fire.

  I glance around at the congregation of people. Some are running to get water; others are running to get their possessions. But everyone is trembling. Real fear etched into their features, like it is etched into mine.

  Joey stands a foot away from the fire, his attention turned towards the English block. He isn't swaying anymore. His limbs seem locked in place, frozen in a state of tension. For a moment I think he has gone into shock, but then he moves. His body snaps towards the burning English block, his run more frantic than that of an infected.

  "Joey!" I call. He's already half-way up the steps and makes no gesture that he has heard me. I debate going after him, not so that I can save him from the burning building. No. I debate going after him so that I can kill him before something else does.

  "Get water!" Rocket screams again, and I turn to look at her now. She's shouting at an ethnic couple, screami
ng at them to run and get water from the hall. I don't join her, because I know that it is too late for water. The bus can't be saved.

  The school can't be saved.

  I'm about to tell her this when Aaron bursts from the hall. His expression is one of disbelief, but quickly falls into despair.

  "What the hell happened?" he asks, his voice barely audible above the roar of the fire. Rocket turns to him and the ethnic couple take this as their opportunity to run into the hall.

  "Joey!" she shouts. "Joey is what happened!"

  Aaron stumbles forward, his glazed eyes focused solely on the fire. He looks completely at a loss. His eyes sunken into a pit of irreversible anguish and his usual smirk turned down in a devastating look of defeat. I think he is about to collapse when he snaps back to attention. His eyes are still sunken, the lines of his face still creased. He's lost his usual flair for command, but he’s made a commendable effort to retrieve it. Despite how much it appears to strain him.

  "Not water!" he shouts, just as the ethnic couple from earlier appears at the door of the hall with buckets in their hands. Filled precariously to the brim, water sloshes down the sides, pooling on the dry ground before their feet. "We can't afford to waste any water!"

  Rocket tugs at her hair. "Then how are we supposed to put it out!"

  Aaron pauses, his eyes running along the ground. "We don't." His dark eyes burn in their sockets as he says this. A group of people run past him, packed bags bouncing on their backs. His attention turns towards them.

  "Hey wait a second! Where are you guys going?" he asks, flustered. Only one in the group stops and turns to answer him. A man around my age, with long hair and blue eyes.

  "We're getting out of here!" he cries, "before the infected show up!"

  Aaron shakes his head. "We need to stick together, to make a plan." The ethnic couple by the hall bob their heads in agreement, but the man turns away, running to catch up with his group. "Hey wait! We need to . . ." Aaron calls, but stops when he realizes it's a wasted effort. He turns to Rocket.