Dead Days Zombie Apocalypse Series (Season 5)

by Ryan Casey

She swallowed, and Riley could see the pain it caused her.

  She didn’t answer his question about the noises.

  He leaned back. Looked over at the door. Listened to the footsteps creaking above. The murmur of his friends’ voices. The mumble of life. “I remember the way I felt before I did it. Before I … before I drove a car into a wall. I remember this—this emptiness inside me. And I dunno why but I just felt like … like if I drove into that wall and ended everything then maybe—maybe that emptiness would go away. I didn’t want to fill the emptiness anymore. Well I wanted to, obviously. But I knew I couldn’t. ’Cause I’d tried. I’d tried so many times. But it never worked. So the … the nothingness sounded better than the emptiness, I guess.”

  He cleared his throat. Realised he was welling up. Caught a glance at Chloë and saw she was looking at him. Inquisitively. Like a kid listening to a bedtime story, waiting for the twist.

  “I just … I just guess I’m saying that if you need to talk about—about anything. I’m here. And I know it feels like nothing can help. I know it feels like no one can help. But I’m—”

  “I want to hurt people,” Chloë said.

  The words made Riley feel sick. Physically sick. Not because they were threatening. But because they were said in such a pitiful way. Such a desperate way.

  “You don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  “I do. I’m sorry but I do. I just …”

  She stopped. Turned away. Blushed. Scratched at her jeans some more.

  “It’s okay,” Riley said. “You can talk to me. You know you can talk to me.”

  More scratching. More shaking. “I just … I just see people and I see them—see them looking happy and I want that. I just want—I just want to be happy again.”

  “We all want to be happy again,” Riley said. “And we can be.”

  “But I just don’t see how. After everything that’s happened. I don’t see how.”

  Riley thought back to Claudia. Lovely woman. Great with Chloë. And even if they had their differences, Chloë clearly idolised her. “I’m so sorry for your losses, Chlo. I … There’s nothing I can say that’ll make those better.”

  “I’m sorry. For—for Anna.”

  Her name made Riley’s muscles tighten up. “You don’t have to—”

  “I shot her ’cause I was sad. ’Cause I—I saw what that man did. Rodrigo. I saw what he did to my mum and I saw you all with him and I just …”

  She stopped speaking. Sniffed up.

  “I’m just sorry,” Chloë said.

  Digging up the old demons—the demons of Anna—brought a sickly taste to Riley’s mouth. And hearing Chloë confess to killing her not accidentally but out of anger, well … it took Riley a lot to bite his tongue. To hold on to his sanity. To remember that Chloë was just a kid. A kid who’d been thrown into a broken world. A kid who’d been forced to watch their childhood crumble around her piece by piece.

  A damaged kid.

  “And—and if I could do anything to bring her back I would. If I could do anything I—”

  “I forgive you,” Riley said.

  Chloë looked him right in his eyes. “You can’t forgive me.”

  “No, no I can forgive you,” Riley said.

  Then he put a hand on her back.

  Pulled her close.

  “I can forgive you and I will forgive you,” Riley said.

  He pulled Chloë closer and he wrapped his arms around her.

  She sobbed. Sobbed on his shoulder.

  And he cried too.

  He cried because he could feel this little girl holding onto him so tightly.

  Holding onto him and praying for him to take all her fears away, all her worries away.

  A girl who’d been corrupted by the horrors of this world.

  Just like everyone else.

  “I’m here for you,” Riley said. “No matter what. Me, Jordanna, we’re all here for you—”

  “I just want my mum,” Chloë cried. “I—I just want my mum.”

  Riley held her tighter.

  Let her tears dampen his shoulder.

  “I know you do. I know you do.”

  He kept on holding her.

  Kept on rubbing her back.

  And as they sat there in the silence of the lounge, Riley felt a burden of responsibility crash down on his shoulders.

  A burden that he was willing to take on.

  That he had to be willing to take on.

  “I’m—I’m not gonna be here forever,” he said, struggling to hold back his own tears now. He moved Chloë away. Moved her back so they were looking one another in the eyes. “I’m probably not gonna make another few weeks after how things’ve turned out with the cure.”

  “But why do you have to—”

  “Ssh,” Riley said, squeezing Chloë’s hands. “Ssh. Now I want you to look me in the eye and listen to me. I want you to remember something. Okay?”

  Chloë nodded. Struggled to look Riley in the eye, but nodded anyway.

  “When I’m gone—wait, listen, please. When I’m gone, this group’s gonna need someone strong at its core. And that’s you, Chloë. Whether you want it to be or not, that’s you. You’re tough. Tougher than all of us put together. And that’s a good thing. But—but sometimes it’s okay to take a step back. To let others figure things out for you. To take a back seat. To … to be a kid again. Right?”

  Chloë nodded. She wiped her eyes and she nodded.

  Riley reached into his pocket. Felt the burden of responsibility growing larger.

  “Here,” he said, pulling Anna’s necklace out of his pocket. “I—I want you to take this.”

  Chloë’s eyes widened. The colour and the healthiness of her face quadrupled in the space of a second. “I—I can’t take that—”

  “You can and you will,” Riley said, placing it into Chloë’s hands. “I know your mum had a necklace just like this. I … I know how much it meant to you. So you take it. You take it and you hold onto it.”

  “But Anna wouldn’t want me—”

  “Anna’s not here anymore, Chlo,” Riley said. “Anna’s not been here a long time. But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, she thought the world of you. Right to the last second.”

  Chloë’s hands stayed limp as Riley held the necklace in the middle of them.

  Then, she took a deep breath.

  Nodded.

  Took the necklace from Riley’s hand.

  “I’m—I’m sorry for everything,” she said.

  Riley rubbed a hand down the side of her shiny brown hair. “And I’m sorry too.”

  They hugged one another again.

  Hugged tight.

  In the reflection of the old CRT television, Riley saw Jordanna peeking through the door.

  Saw the tears dripping down her cheeks.

  The smile on her face.

  CHAPTER TEN

  JAMES

  James wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t.

  He couldn’t ’cause the memory flickered in his mind.

  Not the full memory. Just the reminder he’d had upstairs. The flashback to her voice.

  “You’re not strong enough to deal with anything you weak, pathetic shit …”

  The flashback to her laughter.

  Rattling around his skull.

  Scratching and scratching and scratching until eventually he just popped.

  Cracked.

  Opened up and showed him for who he really was.

  “Not sleeping?”

  Tamara’s voice caught James off guard. He thought about closing his eyes at first. Pretending he was fast asleep. But instead, he found himself turning. Squinting at her in the darkness lying there on the cottage floor beside him.

  And then there was no closing his eyes.

  No escape.

  Never any escape, not from the truth.

  “Someone needs to stay awake,” James whispered. The rest of the group were all in this one room—the upstairs bedroom. Sure, there were pl
enty of places to rest in this cottage. But they didn’t want to split up. Not after losing Andy. Not after the attack on Jordanna.

  “Ivan’s awake,” Tamara said. “You should get some rest.”

  James nodded. “Right. Right I should. And so should—”

  “What happened earlier?”

  It was the question James had been dreading. The question he’d been doing his damnedest to avoid. But a question he knew Tamara would ask. ’Cause she’d seen him. She’d seen him fall to the floor at the top of the stairs and imagine a zombie was onto him.

  There was no hiding from that. No pushing the truth under the rug anymore.

  “Y’know, you remind me of someone.”

  “Robbie Savage?” James said.

  Tamara snorted. “No. Not Robbie Savage. Except for the hair, maybe. No, you … you remind me of Pedro.”

  James wasn’t sure how to respond to Tamara. After all, her and Pedro had a thing going on. She was a pretty girl. A damned pretty girl. But she was pregnant. Pregnant with Pedro’s kid.

  And she didn’t know the truth about James.

  “Thanks, I guess?” James said.

  “It’s not a compliment. Pedro was … When we first met, he was different. He had a lot of shit bottled up inside. A lot of … a lot of demons. You remind me of Pedro when I first met him. Someone who was doing their damnedest to pretend everything was okay with them when in fact it’s not. It’s really not.”

  She let the thought hang. And shit, hang it did.

  “I … I don’t have anything to hide—”

  “I’ve seen it. Seen that look on your face.”

  “What look?”

  “The same look we’ve all had when we’re scared of admitting something. Scared of opening up the past. Accepting the truth.”

  James felt his heart pick up. Tasted the same bitter tang of vomit, just like when it happened. Felt his cheeks heating up in that same way. Hands starting to shake, in exactly the same way.

  “I … I don’t have to tell you a thing,” James said.

  “No,” Tamara whispered, edging closer to James as they lay there in the darkness, as the smell of sweat and dirt from all the group filled up the bedroom. “You don’t. But it can help. And I want you to know that if you need to get anything off your chest, you can—”

  “I killed my landlord,” James said.

  The words spat out of his mouth. Spurted out from a place deep within, a place he didn’t really understand. And as he said the words, two things happened. First, he felt his chest tighten. His body seize up. His cheeks fill with burning heat.

  But at the same time, he felt a weight rise from his shoulders.

  Rise like a helium-filled balloon into the sky.

  “You …” Tamara started. “You killed—”

  “Before the outbreak,” James said. “Before—before any of this shit. I … I was late. Late paying my rent. So my landlord, Miss—Miss Bates. Frumpy old bitch. Never liked me in the first place. She comes knocking at my door. Telling—telling me I’m good for nothing. Telling me I’m gonna have to leave. Telling me I shouldn’t really have pets. Shouldn’t really have my—my Ollie with me. But Ollie didn’t have anywhere else to go, y’know? Gorgeous little border. Had him for fourteen years. And—and we didn’t have anyone else. I couldn’t just give him up. Y’know?”

  James couldn’t properly see Tamara. Just her outline in the dark. But he got the sense she was watching him. Staring at him closely. Taking in everything he had to say.

  And James couldn’t stop.

  He couldn’t stop the memories flashing back into his mind.

  Couldn’t stop them flooding out of his mouth, into the open, filling that balloon even more.

  “I … I got back. Got back from—from work one day. And I found Ollie. Found him dead on the sofa. First I thought he’d just died of—of age, y’know. Then I find this—this tin foil. This tin foil in his teeth. And—and a little foil in his bowl too. And I know. I just fucking know she’s been in there. I just fucking know she’s … she’s killed him.”

  He stopped speaking. Took some breaths to cool himself off.

  “What happened then?” Tamara asked.

  “I … I took a knife. Went to her flat. And—and she opened the door and gave me all this shit and I did it. I just … I just did it. And I knew I’d done wrong. I knew right away I’d done wrong. So I—I rang the police. Rang the police and held onto my Ollie and waited for them. But the police never came. The infected came instead. And that’s why I’m still here.”

  Silence descended around the already silent room. As James’ pulse slowed down, he listened for noises. Sounds. Sounds that might indicate someone else was awake. Listening in to what he had to say. Learning his secrets, learning his past, and judging him for it.

  He felt Tamara’s hands wrap around his.

  Tighten.

  “You did the right thing,” she said.

  James turned to her. Felt her breath against his face. Her warm body so close.

  “I didn’t—”

  “Not in the old world, maybe. But in the new world, you did the right thing.”

  Tamara wrapped her hands around James’ back.

  “She took something that was yours. Took something that you cared about away.”

  She pulled herself closer and James felt himself tingling between the legs, felt his heart picking up again, felt so damned unready for what was about to happen.

  “And you punished her for it,” Tamara said.

  She pressed her lips against James’.

  For a moment, James let her keep them there. Enjoyed the emotions inside. The feeling of appreciation. The feeling of admiration. A feeling he wasn’t too familiar with, not from anyone but his Ollie.

  And then James pulled away. He put a hand on Tamara’s soft hair, stroked it, trying his best to keep his cool.

  “We should sleep,” he said.

  He pecked Tamara on her forehead.

  Turned around before she could wrap herself around him any more, before she could do something she didn’t really want to do, something she’d end up regretting.

  Trying to replace Pedro.

  After a few seconds, Tamara sighed. She held James’ hand as they lay there in silence. “I won’t tell anyone,” she said. “About what you told me.”

  James stared across the room. Stared at the darkened silhouettes of Riley, Ivan, Chloë. “Not too sure it matters if you do,” he said. “Not anymore.”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed the back of Tamara’s hand.

  And with a weight lifted off his shoulders, he smiled.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ANDY

  Andy Wilmslow didn’t like to beg.

  But right now, he begged that someone would come for him.

  That someone would save him.

  That someone would take him home, back to a time when life was good, when Steve was by his side and everything was running so perfect, so smoothly.

  “Keep walking,” the voice behind him said.

  He wasn’t sure he could walk any further into the darkness. He’d been walking for what felt like hours. But maybe it’d only been minutes. When you had a bag over your head, hands cuffed behind your back and a blade prodding between your shoulder blades, time could drag like that.

  He listened to the footsteps of the people behind him. Lots of them. Ten, maybe twenty. He didn’t know who they were. What they wanted. Didn’t really matter what they wanted, not really.

  All that mattered was they’d captured him.

  Taken him away from Riley, Jordanna, the rest of the group.

  Leading him through the trees, into the cold of the night, every footstep more draining and painful than the last.

  He imagined Steve was by his side. Holding his hand. Telling him everything was okay. And it comforted him a little. Just a little, just for a moment.

  But then the memory of Steve’s dead body flashed into his mind.

  Thr
oat slit.

  Bound up and left to hang, all for Andy to find.

  Psychological warfare, a forté of Mr Fletch.

  As the sharp blade of the knife stuck between his shoulder blades and he stepped further down the track, Andy wondered what’d happened to Steve’s sister, Karen. She was a nice girl. Always put other people before herself. Probably dead now too. And Andy couldn’t help but feel an immense guilt. Guilt for not doing more to help Karen. For not convincing Steve and the rest of the BLZ troops to get away while they had the chance.

  But they were under Mr Fletch’s spell.

  Under the illusion of the greater society.

  The dangerous outside world and the threat it posed.

  And all the bullshit rhetoric about the work he was doing. The lives he was saving. The future he was forging.

  Bullshit and lies.

  But bullshit and lies that people needed to hear.

  Because without hope, what else was left?

  “Stop.”

  Andy didn’t have much of a choice. He felt someone press their hand into his stomach, the knife nicking his back as he came to a halt. As he stood there in the cold, mouth gagged, black bag wrapped around his head, he wondered if maybe this was Fletch and his people. Maybe they’d captured him. Taken him back to the BLZ. Orion bait.

  Or worse.

  He felt someone rummaging around his head, lifting the black bag. He held his breath. Prepared himself for whatever was ahead. And deep within he kept on hoping. Hoping that this was all some kind of misunderstanding. Some blessing in disguise.

  Or if not, that Riley and the others would come to his rescue. Come to his aid.

  When the bag lifted from his head, he wasn’t sure what to think.

  He was in the middle of a forest. A fire crackled away just ahead of him, smoke billowing from it. There were four people sat around it. Young people. Teenagers, young adults. Three men and a woman. Mud covering their cheeks. Sweat dripping down their gammy hair.

  Bloodshot eyes and gaunt cheekbones.

  Right behind the fire, a man stood.

  He was tall. Quite well built. He had long dark hair down to his shoulders. A smile on his face.

  He was wearing black robes. Like priests’ robes.

  “Welcome, friend,” the man said, hands behind his back.

  The fire crackled as the wind rushed through the woods. Something cut through the smell of smoke. Something sour. Something …