by Ryan Casey
Someone I like about it.
Riley’s cheeks were on fire.
“Is that your heart I can feel?” Jordanna asked.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Something I’ve always had.”
“Jesus Christ that’s insane,” she said, reaching her cold hands between the buttons of his shirt. Scraping her fingernails against his hairy chest. “It’s gonna burst out of there.”
“Yeah, I … I know. I …”
And then she was kissing him.
He was kissing her back.
His heart racing and his hands all over her body, his lips on her neck, her legs wrapped around him.
He listened to the crackling of the fire and he pulled away when he heard laughter, when he heard footsteps right in front of the tent.
He scanned her body, down to her bra, her beautiful plump breasts so close, the heat from her panting body warming him up, making him forget.
“You sure we should—”
“Course we should,” Jordanna said.
She reached over Riley and pulled down the zip of the tent opening.
Then she unclipped her bra.
Unzipped his trousers.
And then in the darkness, the warmth of the flames creeping through into the tent, they were together.
Nothing else mattered.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHLOË AND TAMARA
The noises buzzed around Chloë’s mind like bees.
But not nice bees. Not the bees she used to go visit at the nature reserve on her school trip. Not the bumblebees that used to fly around her garden on a sunny day that used to scare Elizabeth.
But angry bees.
Bees that scratched inside her brain and wouldn’t stop, just kept on getting worse and worse every time someone asked her if …
* * *
“Are you okay, Chlo?”
Chloë spun around. She looked over at Tamara. Tamara couldn’t remember seeing Chloë look so tired, so down, so … withdrawn. It scared her seeing a kid like that. Terrified her.
Because it reminded her what might become of any child that grew up in a world like this.
What might become of her child.
Chloë stared back at her. She was sitting at the front of the tent looking out into the darkness. Plucking the thick band at the front of her jogging bottoms. Most of the others were asleep. Riley and Jordanna were spending a bit of alone time together in a tent of their own. Good for them. They were nice, both of them. They both deserved a bit of happiness.
Temporary happiness to paper the cracks.
To shift reality to the sidelines for just a little while.
“Just … just tired,” Chloë said.
Tamara sat beside her. Stared out into the dark. There was something comforting about that darkness. Terrifying, sure, but comforting. Anything was comforting next to what she’d been through. Anything was positive next to the glare of the BLZ lights.
“I think we’re all tired,” Tamara said. “Probably about time we all got some—”
“Does it not—not scare you?” Chloë asked.
Tamara rubbed her tender thighs. She had a feeling what Chloë was going to ask her. But she wanted her to open up for herself. She didn’t want to force a thing. “Does … does what not scare me?”
Chloë’s eyes watered. Her thin lips shook, illuminated in the moonlight. “The … Those men. Those—those bikers. What they did. To me. To you. Does it not … I can’t sleep anymore.”
The flashbacks of Worthington’s Bike Emporium flooded back into Tamara’s mind. The memories, not just images, but of the smell of sweat, the sound of laughter, the taste of …
“Of course it scares me,” Tamara said. “But I … I just have to be tough. We all have to be tough. That’s how it is now.”
“I’m not sure I can be tough anymore.”
Tamara reached over. Put a hand on Chloë’s leg. Felt her twitch away, then let it rest there, all in the space of a long, drawn-out moment.
“You can be tough. You’re tougher than the lot of us.”
“But I’m not. I’m just … Tiff made me feel good.”
The mention of Tiff made another cloud of nausea descend on Tamara’s stomach. Shit, this kid had lost a lot. “Tiff was a lovely girl.”
“I think I … I think I loved her,” Chloë said.
Tamara suspected as much. She’d seen the way Chloë looked at women, looked at girls. Sure, she was young, but Tamara had—or maybe once had—a niece called Zoe who’d come out aged fourteen. Just something different about her demeanour. The way she dismissed boys when the others spoke about them. The way she blushed around pretty girls.
Just something different.
Something Chloë had too.
But it wasn’t Tamara’s place to force her to come out, whatever. After all, what even was “coming out” in this world?
Everyone was out in this world. It didn’t matter what a person was. Gender, no gender, sexuality, no sexuality.
Everyone just existed.
Nobody judged.
In a sense, that made the new world way more beautiful than the old one.
Pure equality.
“I’m here for you,” Tamara said. “What happened on the road, that … that shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry. And I know everyone else is too.”
“But Riley’s right,” Chloë said. “I am … I am dangerous.”
“You’re not—”
“And I can’t—I can’t help being dangerous. I just …” She looked Tamara in the eye, and Tamara saw something else there. Something that made her uneasier than anything. “I can’t stop the noises in my head. I just can’t stop them. And—and I dunno what they’re gonna make me do.”
Tamara wanted to push Chloë. She wanted to know more of what Chloë was talking about. The noises. The noises that she couldn’t stop.
The noises that were going to make her do something.
But instead, she pulled Chloë close. Hugged her skinny frame as tightly as she could. Let Chloë cry on her shoulder, cried right back with her.
“We’re all here now. All together. Nobody’s gonna leave anyone behind. Never. I promise.”
“I’m scared,” Chloë said, her cries getting louder.
Tamara rubbed the back of her head. Worked her fingers through her greasy hair, all the innocence gone from it. “We’re all scared. We’re …”
And then she felt Chloë’s lips against hers.
She pushed her back. Had to push hard to get her off her. “Chloë, what …”
She saw the embarrassment invade Chloë’s face right away. Saw her cheeks flush, go red. Tamara’s heart picked up. She felt herself blushing. The taste of Chloë’s sour lips still on hers.
Chloë stood up. Started to walk away.
“Chloë, come back. Please, I—”
“Leave me alone,” Chloë said.
She started running, running into the darkness, but Tamara couldn’t let her. She couldn’t let her walk. Not after all her talk about the noises. Not after the attempted kiss.
She stood and ran after Chloë.
Caught up with her.
Wrapped her hands around her.
To her surprise, Chloë didn’t fight back.
She turned around and looked at Tamara. Smiled. The redness gone from her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Tamara wasn’t sure how to feel about Chloë’s sudden change in mood. But she pulled her close. “It’s okay, kid. It’s okay. We’re just good friends, you and me. Hmm? We’re just good friends.”
They hugged one another.
Then they walked back to the tents, hand in hand.
Chloë walked inside a tent, still smiling.
Curled into a ball.
Looked up at Tamara, eyes watering.
“Night,” she said.
Tamara nodded. “Night, Chlo. You get some sleep.”
Chloë smiled. Closed her eyes.
Relief washed over Tamara.
She was asleep. She was finally sleeping.
Broken, but sleeping.
She lay down beside her. Closed her eyes.
When she peeked over at Chloë through her flimsy eyelids, she couldn’t see her eyes in the darkness.
But she pictured her staring up at the roof of the tent, memories of Worthington’s Bike Emporium flashing through her mind, memories of …
* * *
The noises got louder every time someone asked Chloë if she was okay.
The bees got angrier.
’Cause no. She wasn’t okay.
She wasn’t fucking okay.
She couldn’t—
Ever be okay again.
Thoughts fragmented.
Nothing making sense.
The man pulling her legs apart sticking his—
Tiffany’s dead eyes.
Sweat.
Laughter.
Screaming and crying and—
Mum dying and—
Jill. The first one she’d killed. Jill.
The bees got louder and she knew, she just knew there was only one way now.
Only one way.
Tamara pushing her away.
Not wanting her kiss.
Not wanting her.
She opened her eyes. Peeked through her eyelids. She could hear Tamara breathing heavily. Almost snoring.
Good. Almost snoring was good.
She stood up.
Opened the zip of the tent.
Stared out into the night.
She took a deep breath of the cold air. Felt good thoughts slipping in. Good thoughts of Tiffany. Good thoughts of Jordanna.
And she wanted Jordanna.
She wanted Jordanna and she wanted her mum and her dad and—
All gone. All gone. All of them.
So she stepped out into the night.
And she headed towards the woods.
The bees buzzing louder.
The good memories fading away.
Like everything.
Like her.
She plucked the band free from her jogging bottoms.
Took a deep breath.
Walked.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RILEY
It was the scratching that woke Riley.
Nails scratching on the outside of the tent.
The smell of rot.
Then the moans.
Used to be that when he was woken by the creatures, Riley would spend a few seconds thinking they were something else. Before the hammer-blow of reality thumped against his chest, shattered through his system. Used to be that it took a gut-punch of a realisation to truly remember where he was, what was going on.
Not anymore.
The second he heard the groans he opened his eyes.
Might as well not have bothered. The tent was completely pitch black. Silent, but for the movement to his left, but for the groans.
He got that nauseous taste in his mouth. The familiar nausea. Because no matter how accustomed he was to the presence of the undead, no matter how much a part of reality they were, they still terrified him.
Terrified him to the core.
He lunged across the tent floor, lunged for a gun, or any kind of weapon, something to defend this place. The rest of the tent was silent. Fuck. Maybe his friends had already fallen. Maybe he’d slept right through the bloodshed and they’d—
He felt a hand on his right wrist.
Swung out at it with his fist instinctively.
“Woah! Woah, just—just ease off.”
Riley was on the verge of breaking the wrist holding onto him when he realised the voice belonged to Andy.
He pulled his hand away. Turned to the black curtain of the tent. Listened to footsteps cracking through twigs outside. In the darkness, he swore he saw silhouettes.
“We need to clear them,” Riley said.
“We stay put,” Andy said.
Riley shook his head. Crawled closer to the tent opening. Closer to the groans. Closer to the marching dead. “I’m not—”
“You’re putting more people in danger if you go blazing out there.”
“There’s people in the other tent—”
“And if they need us, we’ll hear them,” Andy said.
He stopped speaking right after that. He’d raised his voice a little too loud for comfort. He and Riley waited. Waited in the darkness.
Listened.
The footsteps kept on walking.
The groans kept on rumbling.
So many of them.
Andy was right. Probably more than they could handle.
But they just had to wait.
Wait and see.
Cross their fingers.
“What about the others?” Riley asked.
“What others?”
“The others in this—”
“All okay, sport,” Jordanna whispered.
“Seconded,” Kelly said.
A sense of relief trickled through Riley’s body. But only a minor one. Because that meant Tamara, Ivan, Chloë, James and Doctor Ottoman were still in the other tent.
The tent that the creatures were walking towards.
Passing by.
Slowly.
Everything just … silent.
“Sure we shouldn’t be out there doing something?” Jordanna asked.
“Like what?” Andy said.
“Like … like I dunno. Watching them. Making sure they’re leaving. Making sure they aren’t butchering our friends in the other—”
Jordanna stopped speaking. She stopped, and Riley didn’t know why at first. He hadn’t quite processed it. Hadn’t got his head around it.
Then he heard it.
Heard it loud and clear.
The shout from the other tent. Tamara’s shout. “Fuck!”
Then he heard the footsteps of the creatures slow down.
The groans halt, just for a second.
He saw them in his mind’s eye. Saw the creatures. Saw them turning their attention to the tent. The tent where Tamara, Ivan, Chloë, James and Doctor Ottoman were holed up.
Saw them sniffing out their prey.
And saw that very prey surrounded, helpless. Unable to do a thing.
“Still sure we shouldn’t be out there doing something?” Jordanna asked, a shakiness to her voice.
Dread clawed at Riley’s stomach. Dread and realisation.
He took a deep breath of the death stench air.
“Grab the guns. Grab any weapon you can.”
He scrambled around the area they’d put the weapons to the left of the tent and lifted a pistol as the creatures’ groans got louder, more intense, more focused.
Turned to look in Jordanna, Andy and Kelly’s direction.
“We’ll flank—”
Something grabbed Riley through the material of the tent.
Something yanked his arm so hard his shoulder felt like it was bursting out of its socket.
And then something else grabbed his arm and knocked the gun out of his hand and he felt the creatures building up, felt them surrounding the outside of the tent, surrounding him.
Getting ready to bite.
He searched the salvaged weapons area with a flailing hand. “Something sharp!” he shouted, banishing all hopes of resolving this stealthily. “A—a knife or something. Quick!”
But Jordanna, Kelly and Andy didn’t respond.
They didn’t respond because the creatures were at the zipper doorway of the tent.
Stuffing their faces into the material.
Biting it away.
It was right at that moment that Riley felt the familiar sensation of teeth tightening. Tightening around his skinny forearm.
Getting tighter and tighter.
He searched the ground.
No guns.
No knives.
Teeth tightening.
No …
His hand landed on the rubber handle of something, he wasn’t sure what exactly, but the “what” did
n’t matter right now.
All that mattered was swinging this something at the creatures holding onto him.
Swinging it towards their heads.
And then …
He felt the first set of teeth loosen as the weapon cracked into the skull of the first creature.
Realised right away that the weapon he was holding had some weight. Had some power.
A hammer.
A hammer Andy found back on the road.
He pulled the hammer away as blood dripped down the outside of the tent and he swung it at the next of the creatures.
Hit this one right between its eyes.
Heard the gasp whimper out of its mouth like a throat cancer victim.
When this second creature fell down, he took his opportunity to crawl away from the side of the tent, hammer tight in his hand.
Then he felt something behind him.
Heard more groans filling the tent.
Fuck. More creatures. Creatures getting in here.
“Get the guns!” Andy shouted.
“But they keep on—” Jordanna said.
“Just get them!”
Jordanna rushed past Riley and as she did, two creatures breached the flimsy tent walls, the blurry crowd of flies buzzing around them doing wonders to reveal their location in the thick blackness of night.
Riley pulled back his hammer.
Swung it into the top of the skull of the first.
Pulled it back again, swung it into the next one as Andy and Kelly helped keep more at bay, as they stood their ground, as wave after wave of dead meat readied for a midnight feast.
Then one grabbed Riley.
Grabbed him and pressed its teeth against his chest and—
A blast.
A blast illuminated the tent, just temporarily, but enough for Riley to see.
To see the creature’s head explode.
To feel cold blood cover his chest.
“If you want a gun you’d better fucking hurry,” Jordanna said, the echo of her gunfire ringing in Riley’s ears. But shit, it could’ve been a lot worse.
Riley grabbed a pistol from Jordanna, as did Andy and Kelly. Jordanna was more hesitant about giving Kelly a gun. Naturally. But eventually she did. Eventually, trust prevailed.
Which was handy ’cause there were four more creatures at the tent entrance.
All four survivors lifted their guns.
All four of them aimed instinctively between the eyes of the dark wanderers.
