by Casey, Ryan
And then he looked ahead. Looked at the zombie he’d bitten standing above him, preparing to close in for another bite.
You have to get up. Get away from here. Find Sarah and Clarice and get the hell away.
He pulled himself up and lunged into the zombie’s chest, his ankles still tied together. He nearly lost his balance, but the zombie tumbled away, its head cracking against the frozen, solid ground.
Behind it, he saw the dozen zombies just a matter of metres away.
A few more seconds and they’d be on him.
He turned around and hopped towards Manish.
“Hey!” the chubby guy said, bloodshot anger in his eyes. “Don’t fuckin’ ignore me—”
“Come on,” Hayden said, pulling at the chains that were tied around Manish’s wrists. It was harder than he thought. He must’ve pulled really damned hard to get himself free. And maybe that made him lucky.
Manish was still quiet. But he looked at Hayden right in his eyes now as the throaty cries of the zombies closed in from all directions. There were tears in his eyes, but there was a shaky smile on his face, too. “You … you go,” he said. “Go save your sister. There’s not much time. Go.”
“The fuck?” the chubby guy cut in. “Don’t fuckin’ go anywhere! Get me out of these damned chains.”
But Hayden kept on looking into Manish’s eyes and as much as he wanted to argue with him, as much as he wanted to get him from this wall and from these chains and away from here, he knew there was very little hope.
He saw a complete, resigned sincerity on Manish’s face. An acceptance of what was, and of what was to be.
The ultimate sacrifice.
Hayden glanced to his left. The second zombie that had dragged itself away from the wall was fast approaching the chubby guy. Behind them, the crowd of zombies was just five metres away. So close that Hayden could feel their cold, decaying bodies surrounding him.
“There has to be a way,” he said to Manish. “There has to be—”
“There is no other way,” Manish said, flat smile creeping up his face again. “You—you saved me once. You gave me a chance when you could’ve just walked away and looked out for yourself. I’ll remember that. God will remember that. Now go.”
“Don’t fucking go!” the chubby guy screamed, shaking and rattling at his cuffs. “Don’t fucking go!”
But Hayden could only see Clarice and Sarah in his mind’s eyes.
He could only hear Manish’s words resounding through his mind.
“I’m sorry,” Hayden said, a lump welling up in his throat. “I’m so sorry.”
And then he reached down with his shaking hands, struggled to yank the ties free from his ankles, and he ran.
Ran away from the shaking and the shouting and the screaming of the chubby guy.
Ran past the oncoming crowd of zombies, pushed past them as they approached the side of the building he’d been tied to.
He wanted to look back. Wanted to look back and see that Manish was okay, that he’d made it. A small part inside him, probably inspired by video games and films with their Hollywood resolutions, pictured the chains snapping free and Manish running over and joining him at the last possible moment, the pair of them sprinting away from this hellhole and saving Clarice and Sarah from Callum and his minions.
But two things quashed that thought.
First was the squeal, so loud and high pitched that it sounded like a pig being slaughtered.
Manish.
But he didn’t have the time to think about Manish’s scream. He didn’t have the time to think about anything when he looked ahead beyond the steel gate at the side of the building he’d been attached to.
Callum was standing in the middle of the parking area with his hands behind his back.
Beside him, two men dressed in green work slacks pointed rifles in Hayden’s direction.
But it was the thing in front of them all that made Hayden’s blood turn cold.
Clarice was on her knees with a gag around her mouth.
Tears rolled down her bruised cheeks.
She was stripped down to her bra and panties.
And beside her, Sarah. Same predicament, same condition.
And behind them, Ally stood, holding a long, sharp, discoloured knife.
“Don’t move another muscle,” Callum said.
But Hayden couldn’t hear his words, not at a deep level. All he could see was his sister and his friend—his sister and his friend in that awful condition, and all he could feel was hate for these twats, these evil twats.
Blood trickled down from Sarah’s swollen nose and landed on the dusty concrete.
Clarice shivered.
“You did well,” Callum said, that flat smile on his face. “Getting yourself out of those chains. Lucky man. Must have some kind of god on your side. Until now, anyway. Ally.”
Ally, who had a bruise around his chunky neck where Hayden had tried to strangle him, stepped up to Clarice and put the knife on Clarice’s soft, tender neck.
Hayden’s insides turned to stone.
He stepped forward. Stepped forward even though the two men with rifles lifted them higher, aimed at Hayden as he stood there in nothing but his boxer shorts.
Callum smiled. “I’m sorry. I really am. But you shouldn’t have killed one of my men. And you definitely shouldn’t have damaged the hangar wall. That’s just negligence.”
Ally lifted Clarice’s neck. Hayden saw the fear in her tired, bruised eyes. Fear he’d seen when they were kids. He just wanted to go over there and hold her. Wrap his arms around her. Tell her everything was going to be okay.
“I don’t like having to do what we’re going to do,” Callum said. “Seems such a waste. But you’re problematic. And your sister is a part of what makes you so problematic. So you leave me with no choice.” He nodded at Ally. “Go on.”
He can’t do it no he can’t do it he won’t he can’t he—
Ally pulled Clarice’s neck back and the next thing he saw was blood pooling out of his sister’s neck and down her naked body and he heard her choking, heard her choking and struggling as Ally kept on slicing, kept on hacking away, kept on cutting.
He wanted to run at them and shout at them and scream at them but he was frozen. Frozen inside and out.
Ally kept on cutting.
Sarah looked on in total shock.
The two men with guns kept on aiming at Hayden, and Callum looked on at Clarice with a sad look on his face.
But Ally kept on cutting and cutting at Clarice’s neck until it was only attached by a string of flesh.
And then he cut that piece of flesh away and he lifted her head up as blood trickled towards the ground. Her decapitated body toppled over.
He lifted Clarice’s paling, wax-like head by the hair.
Smiled at Hayden, his hands and his white shirt covered in blood.
And all Hayden could do was stand there, frozen, numb, completely lost, as the first of the bullets whizzed towards him.
Thirty-Two
Hayden stared into the glistening blue eyes of his decapitated sister and felt the bullets whoosh over his shoulders.
“Dammit,” Callum shouted. “Back up. Take her inside.”
Hayden didn’t understand what was happening until he heard the gasps and the groans over his shoulder. And even then he wasn’t sure he cared. He was numb. Frozen. He couldn’t feel anything. Not even sadness. Just nothing. A void. Like this was all some kind of horrible dream that couldn’t be happening, no it couldn’t be, it wasn’t true because Clarice was his little sister, his little baby sister, his little baby sister who he’d sworn to look out for, sworn to protect.
His little baby sister’s paling body lay headless on the concrete, the tip of her spinal cord poking out of her sliced flesh.
And her head looked back at him. Her eyes looked at him and cried for help, begged for him to help her.
But he couldn’t.
And that’s when he felt the
anger building up inside.
He moved automatically. Moved without thought or feeling other than pure unfiltered rage. He sprinted past his sister’s body, sprinted with his bare feet across the rocky ground and towards Callum and Ally and the other two men as they ran in the opposite direction, ran towards the CityFast hangar.
“Come back here!” he shouted, and his voice sounded crackly and broken. “Come the fuck back here!”
But they kept on running. One of the gunmen dragged Sarah along, dragged her up the concrete steps in front of the hangar and pulled her inside. They turned round and fired a few bullets at Hayden, but they just missed him, Hayden kept running and running and running.
He could feel the zombies approaching from behind but he didn’t care. All he cared about right now was punishing Ally. Punishing Ally and Cameron and fuck—punishing all of them for what they’d done.
What they’d taken away from him.
Callum took a look back at Hayden and he mouthed something that looked like “sorry.”
And then he slammed the metal door shut and he was gone, all of them were gone.
Hayden slammed face first into it. He smacked at the metal. Pulled and pushed and kicked and screamed.
“You fuckers!” he shouted, banging on the door. “You killed her you fuckers! You … my sister. You killed her. You killed my sister.”
And then Hayden pressed his head against the metal door and felt the tears rolling down his cheeks.
Clarice is dead.
They killed Clarice.
Clarice is gone.
You are alone, all alone.
He let out a shriek from deep within and dropped to his knees, his forehead still pressed up to the door. He hit the door half-heartedly as the zombies carried on their pursuit. “You killed her,” he mumbled, as flashes of his little sister’s first day at big school came to mind. Finding her crying by the lockers because she’d got lost, and Hayden taking her hand and showing her around and feeling good about it.
And Clarice looking back at him and smiling. Smiling with such sincerity. Such gratitude.
Gratitude that had never gone away.
“You killed her …” he whimpered.
He heard the zombies, heard their footsteps scraping across the ground. And he heard flesh. Tearing flesh.
He spun around.
Saw one of the zombies crouched over Clarice’s headless body and sinking its teeth into her belly.
“No!” he shouted. And he ran down the steps, nearly tumbled. Ran towards the zombie as it stuck its hammy fingers into her insides, pulled them out and feasted on them, Hayden’s little sister’s insides …
And then he fell flat onto his face and he cried again. He shut his eyes. He couldn’t look at his sister in that way. He couldn’t see her in her current condition, dignity stripped from her like the flesh from her—
NO!
He sobbed on the cold ground and waited for the zombies to surround him. Waited for them to gather around and take him too. Because there was no point anymore. No point to surviving in a world where he didn’t have a sister, didn’t have Clarice to look out for.
I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared—
But most of all, he didn’t have someone to look out for him.
He didn’t have a thing to live for.
His life had lost its purpose.
He heard the footsteps and the gasps getting closer and he begged for it to happen, begged for it to be quick and over in no time.
He tensed his body and begged.
And then he thought of Sarah.
Thought of Callum and Ally. Thought of all those women tied up, beaten and bruised in that horrid chamber.
He thought of the pain they’d been through, and the pain they’d go through if he just rolled over and let them go through it.
He thought of what Clarice would say: don’t let them win. Giving up is letting them win.
And although there was absolutely nothing he could do about it—about Sarah and Ally and Callum and those women—he knew one thing: he couldn’t just die. He couldn’t just give in. Not here. Not in front of Sarah.
So he stood up. Faced the two dozen zombies staggering his way. He looked past his sister’s mutilated corpse and over at the gates at the front of the Riversford Industrial Estate.
He turned back. Saw a slight movement in one of the windows. And then he looked up on the roof. Shooters would be up there soon. Up there to clear the zombies from safe ground, up there to clear him.
He spat a nasty, rot tasting lump out of his mouth, and then he turned ahead.
Looked into the dead eyes of his sister’s head, which had been turned in his direction by the feet of the eager zombies.
He looked at those glistening blue eyes for one final time. “I’m so sorry, Sis. I’m so sorry. So sorry.”
And then he brushed his greasy, blood-soaked hair back and he ran towards the gate, away from the zombies, away from Riversford Industrial Estate.
When he looked back, Clarice’s eyes weren’t staring back at him.
She was gone.
Thirty-Three
Hayden walked alone down the centre of the Warrington road.
Cold wracked through his naked body, sent shivers right through to his core. His lips felt like they were freezing, turning icy, as the night rapidly approached. His head stung—stung with the physical pains of the beatings he’d taken, but mostly with the emotional turmoil that ran riot through his skull.
The memories of Ally pulling his sister’s head back.
Slicing the knife across her neck.
Spraying her blood out all over the concrete outside the Riversford Industrial Estate and leaving her to drown in her own fluids.
And Hayden not being able to do a thing about it.
He heard a noise somewhere behind him. The sound of peppering gunfire. The Riversford group cleaning up the zombies, no doubt. Cleaning up what they didn’t want, just like they always would. Because that’s the kind of world they lived in now—a world where the people willing to take what they wanted and exploit it for their own selfish needs succeeded.
A world where Hayden didn’t want to live.
But a world that had taken his sister away from him.
And for that reason, a world that had to pay.
He carried on walking down the middle of the cracked concrete, past the abandoned cars and boarded up buildings, not really paying any attention to his surroundings or where he was going. Only that he needed time. Time to think. Time to prepare.
Time to prepare for something.
He tasted blood on his lips and he remembered the sacrifice Manish had made to allow Hayden to power on and save his sister, save Sarah. He remembered the blood-curdling sound of Manish’s scream—and what had he died for? For Clarice to have her head sliced from her body right in front of Hayden. For Sarah, all battered and bruised, to be taken back inside the CityFast hangar to an inevitable fate of pain and suffering.
All because a group of power-crazy men had a twisted utopian vision.
All because they thought, somewhere in their messed up minds, that they were saving the world.
There was no saving the world. Hayden understood that now. There was only saving yourself. Saving those you cared about. There was no system, no greater force swooping in to save anyone, no trust.
It was survival of the fittest. A Darwinian paradise; a snapshot of natural selection.
Adapt or become one of the mindless masses. Become one of the zombies, one of the primary citizens of the new world.
Hayden stopped when he reached a crossroads. He stared down the road, peppered with broken glass and specks of blood. The wind was strong, and it whooshed through the smashed windows of the empty shops. Up ahead, Hayden could see a range of snow-swept mountains, and a part of him just wanted to go up there to the top and freeze to death.
But another part inside him wanted to go back to Riversford and die trying to save Sarah.
&
nbsp; He just didn’t know how.
He lowered his head and kept on walking when he heard the footsteps to his left.
He stopped. Looked up. No sign of life by the abandoned shops. No sign of death either. He was cold. His mind was playing with him. That’s all this was—the cold was getting to him and he was in shock.
He started walking when he heard the noise again.
This time, he realised it wasn’t as near as he first thought. It was far away, somewhere in the distance, like a voice echoing from afar, or the sound of a television turned down really quietly.
But there was something. A definite movement. Footsteps.
Everything inside Hayden told him to turn around. Walk away. Head back to Riversford and find a way inside; find a way to die trying to save Sarah, save the other women tied up in that outhouse.
But instead, he found himself walking towards the noise. Following it like a child chasing the pot of gold at the foot of the rainbow.
Because he had an idea. Out of nowhere, he had an idea.
He moved the numb soles of his feet against the icy road and he stopped when he saw exactly what the source of the noise was.
In the distance, up one of the hills, he could see a large mass of zombies. A mass much like the ones that had attacked the bunker, and like the ones that had swarmed out of the trees and forced him, Clarice and Newbie off the road. Probably the same group following Hayden all this way in search of their meal.
His heart thumped. The fragments of an idea formed in his weak, stunned mind. He’d hardly had a chance to process his sister’s death—and all the other losses he’d suffered—but right now he had something. Something to try. Something to attempt.
He saw that the group of zombies was wandering mostly in the opposite direction, and he figured the smaller group that had attacked the industrial estate must’ve been a branching of this bunch.
Well, lucky for the horde of zombies, today was their lucky day.
He held his breath. Clenched his chattering teeth together. Felt another drip of bitter snot dribble down his upper lip.
