Dead Days Zombie Apocalypse Series

by Ryan Casey

She was cornered.

  She was trapped.

  She looked at the distorted figure that was once Beth, and for a split second, she wondered how this had happened. She wondered how this was possible. Because this was nightmarish. This was something that wasn’t supposed to happen, especially not here on Island 47.

  She saw Beth slow down, pace towards her, hand by hand, twisted foot by foot.

  And then she felt something.

  Air.

  Cool air from above.

  She looked up.

  A ventilation shaft.

  Shit. If she could remove the grill, she could get up there. She could hide up there for a while. She could wait until whatever this was had blown over.

  Because it would blow over.

  It had to blow over.

  Right?

  She looked at Beth and tried to figure out if she had enough time.

  But shit. She didn’t really have a choice.

  It was risk getting out of here or die.

  Because one thing was for certain.

  Whatever Beth had become didn’t look like it wanted to talk anytime soon.

  She looked at Kesha.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m… I’m still here. I just need to put you down. I just need to try and—”

  But before she could do anything, before she could even try, she felt something slam against her chest.

  She felt something knock Kesha out of her arms, then pin her down, pressing down right on top of her.

  She heard Kesha let out a pained cry. A wail.

  She looked up into Beth’s eye sockets. Her eyes had burst. Thick, gloopy blood slurped out of them.

  And in that moment of horror, she thought she saw something on Beth’s bloodied lips.

  She thought she saw fear.

  Then Beth opened her mouth and pressed it towards Anna’s neck.

  Chapter Nine

  Ricky looked at the messy remains of Marie’s head on the floor in front of him, and he tried to figure out what’d just happened, and what it meant for him—and for everyone.

  He’d lost all track of time. He felt cold. Cold to the core. The memories of lifting that heavy wooden drawer and bringing it down again and again on Marie’s head kept circling around his mind, haunting him. He could smell the scent of death in the air; a scent he’d grown all too used to in the old world, but a smell he’d fortunately been able to distance himself from ever since he got to the island.

  He could taste Marie’s blood on his lips.

  He knew he would never forget that taste.

  He looked around and saw Carly. She was in bits. Tears rolling down her face. Shock totally gripping hold of her. And he felt bad for her, as she stared down at Marie’s body. Because he knew right then at that moment that there was more between her and Marie than she’d perhaps first let on. There was more between them than he’d thought.

  He put a hand on Carly’s back. Felt awkward doing it, especially since his hand still had Marie’s blood on it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Carly, I’m truly sorry.”

  She looked up at him. Broke free of her shocked stupor, just for a moment. And in her eyes, he saw something that would haunt him for a long time. In her eyes, he saw anger. He saw blame.

  He expected Carly to lash out at him. To blame him for what had happened to Marie.

  But instead, the anger dropped; Carly’s entire face dropped.

  She threw her arms around Ricky’s neck and held him tight, crying into him.

  He put his hands on her back, and he felt the tears welling up himself. Not just because of what had just happened to Marie, but because of how good an existence they’d been living for so long. How perfect, how undisturbed.

  And now that had changed.

  That had completely changed.

  He listened to the sounds of the alarms, and he heard the footsteps outside getting closer. He heard voices. And suddenly a sense of urgency grew inside him. Because those footsteps. Those heavy, military-style footsteps.

  They were approaching this house.

  They were right outside.

  Which meant they were in danger because they were coming for them.

  Ricky stood up. Headed towards the front door.

  “Where are you going?” Carly said. Her words were forced, strained like she could barely spit them out.

  “I need to lock the doors,” Ricky said, rushing to the front door. “We need to lock the windows. We need to lock everything and…”

  When he reached the door, he saw something that made his entire body sink.

  There were men dressed in black perched on their knees right outside this house.

  They were pointing their guns at it. Like they were getting ready to fire.

  But there was something else, too.

  Across the street, he watched as another group of these soldiers kicked down the doors of a house.

  He heard panic. He heard screaming.

  Then he heard gunfire.

  “We need to get out of here,” Ricky said.

  He heard the gunfire before he realised what it was. Saw it split through the crack in the door.

  And then he sprinted back towards Carly, crouching, so he was out of view of the windows as he ran.

  “Carly, we need to get out of here,” Ricky said.

  But he saw then that Carly was holding something. Something that she looked like she’d taken from Marie’s pocket. Something she hadn’t been holding before. A note.

  “What is that?” Ricky asked.

  Carly looked up at him, totally grey-faced. “It’s airborne,” she said.

  She handed the note to Ricky. And as Ricky read it, he imagined it in Marie’s voice.

  The note was simple. It went a bit shaky towards the end like Marie was losing her grip on herself.

  But the sentiment was clear.

  It’s airborne. I think I have it. Love you. Stay away from me stay…

  Then it trailed off into sharp lines and nonsense.

  Ricky read it. He read it time and time again, over and over. He’d been warned of an airborne strain once before, but that had turned out to be a manipulative lie back in the old world.

  But this…

  This was hard to deny.

  Especially with Marie’s body lying in front of him.

  Especially with the people on the outside.

  Getting closer.

  “What do we do?” Carly asked.

  Ricky swallowed a sickly lump in his throat and put the note into his pocket. “We get out of here. Now.”

  He took Carly’s hand and ran towards the front door.

  But then the bullets hit that door.

  Pierced holes in it.

  There was no going that way.

  He turned around, Carly’s hand still in his. He sprinted towards the back of the bungalow. There was no time to mess around. There was no time to stay in here, to be sentimental, as hard as turning away from Marie no doubt was for Carly.

  They had to get out of here.

  Now.

  They reached the back door. Ricky looked outside, checked all was clear.

  “We should be able to make it. But we need to go. Fast.”

  Carly nodded. She tightened her grip on Ricky’s hand. Her eyes were glassy; almost as glassy as Marie’s were.

  Then she looked up at him.

  A speck of blood on her nose.

  He let go of her hand almost automatically. Although he regretted that move right away. He didn’t want to make it look insensitive.

  “Carly…”

  “I need to stay here,” she said.

  Ricky shook his head as the footsteps got closer to the front of the house. “Carly, I can’t let you—”

  “You can,” she said. “And you will.”

  She started to close the door.

  “Carly, wait!”

  But then by that point, it was already too late.

  The door was closed.

 
; Ricky slammed into it. Tried to turn the handle.

  And then he heard footsteps coming around the side of the bungalow.

  He wanted to go in there.

  He wanted to save her.

  But he needed to get away.

  He put his hand on the door, tears welling up as everything came to a head, as the alarm kept on sounding, as the screaming kicked in.

  “I’m sorry, Carly,” he said. “I’m sorry for everything.”

  Then, he took his hand off the door, and he ran.

  Chapter Ten

  Riley tried to understand what he’d just heard; what Peter had just told him.

  “Everyone on the outside is too late already. There’s nothing we can do for them. Nothing we can do for anyone. They are already gone.”

  Hearing those words, as he stood inside Peter’s office, total horror took over him. Horror that sparked up memories of the world he’d come from. The way he got so used to feeling when he was there. After all, that was his normality. That was his reality. Sometimes he didn’t even know when he was feeling that way. But it was there, an undercurrent running through his every waking—and sleeping—moment, all the time.

  But this was different. It was worse. Because this was the new world. This was the world where he was supposed to be safe; where things like this weren’t supposed to happen.

  “Everyone on the outside is too late already. There’s nothing we can do for them. Nothing we can do for anyone. They are already gone.”

  No. He couldn’t just believe that. He couldn’t just accept it.

  “What do you mean they are already gone?” he asked.

  Peter took another sip of his whisky as the sirens kept on resonating around the island, so haunting in their sound. “The people on the outside are… are prone to a deadly strain of the infection. Perhaps the deadliest form yet. An airborne form.”

  Riley shook his head. “This can’t be happening.”

  “It is happening. Now, we’ve no way of knowing just how many will turn immediately. But hopefully, we’ve managed to keep the outbreak contained to this district, which is obviously good news. But the people who are living in certain areas… the people who are on the outside. It’s already too late to do anything for them.”

  Riley thought of Anna. Of his baby. Of Kesha. He thought of Ricky, and he thought of Carly.

  And just thinking of them, hearing what Peter was saying—that they essentially gave up on these people—it triggered something inside him that he hadn’t felt for a long time.

  Pure anger.

  He threw himself at Peter. Pushed him right up against his window, his whisky glass falling to the floor on impact.

  “Riley,” Peter squirmed. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret here. It’s in both of our best interests to remain good friends, especially when there’s no way of knowing just how long we’re going to be holed up in here.”

  “I’m not staying in here,” Riley said.

  Peter frowned. “Yes. Yes, you are. Because if you step outside, you put yourself in danger. I can’t protect you.”

  “Is this what this all is to you? Some ego trip?”

  “Quite the opposite,” Peter said. “And frankly, I’m insulted you’d even make that kind of assumption. Our people… we care about them. We want the best lives for them. But we also have to make the right decisions for the future of humanity. And right now, this is the right decision. Not the easy decisions, sure. But I wasn’t hired to make the easy decisions.”

  Riley slammed Peter harder against the glass. He was so enraged that he could happily throw this fucker out of the window to his death right now.

  “Put me down,” Peter said. “This isn’t getting either of us anywhere.”

  “Let me out of here,” Riley said.

  Peter frowned. “Let you out of here? Have you even been listening to me?”

  “I’ve listened to you. And I want you to let me out of here. Because as long as Anna is out there—as long as the people I care about are out there—I’m not staying in here for another second. Airborne infection or not.”

  Peter’s face dropped. He looked genuinely disappointed in Riley. “There’s so much promise in you, Riley. Even right now. The lengths you are willing to go to. But—”

  “No more bullshit. You let me out of here. You let me out of here right this second.”

  A pause. A cautioned glance.

  Then, Peter sighed and nodded. “Okay. Okay.”

  Riley let him loose. But he watched his every step. Watched to make sure he didn’t try something; didn’t try to worm himself out of this in any way.

  He opened up his drawer on his desk. Keyed in a few digits into a small metal device. Then he pulled out a wireless button.

  “When I open this door, you have five seconds,” Peter said. “Five seconds to get out of here. After that, the door closes. And it never opens again. Never.”

  Riley looked into Peter’s eyes. Peter looked back at him.

  “Just do it,” Riley said.

  Peter sighed. Then he nodded. “Good luck, Riley. And I mean that. Sincerely.”

  He pushed the button.

  His office door opened.

  Riley stalled. Just for a moment, he stalled. In the space of a second, all the possibilities spiralled around his mind. All of the decisions he could make. He could stay here. He could be safe.

  He could go out there. Probably die.

  In the end, it really was no contest.

  He ran as quickly as he could to the door.

  The door started to close, just before he made it.

  He squeezed through it. Dodged its closing shutters, just in time.

  And then he looked back at Peter’s disappointed face as the doors slammed shut.

  He took a deep breath. Turned around, looked at the flashing red lights in the corridor, listened to the alarm.

  He was on the other side now.

  And there was only one way he could go.

  He raced his way through the building. A lot of the doors were locked shut. But he found an elevator, working, keyed in Floor 14, where Anna would be with Kesha.

  The elevator sparked to life. But just before it descended, he heard a scream from somewhere inside; somewhere within. And the further down he got, the further towards Floor 14, the more he realised and understood exactly what this was; exactly what was happening.

  Chaos.

  The dominoes were falling.

  The dominoes were falling all over again.

  The elevator came to a stop. The doors didn’t budge. For a moment, pure dread filled him as he contemplated the thought of being trapped in here while so many people he cared about were on the outside.

  Then the doors opened up.

  He saw red lights.

  He saw blood.

  And he saw…

  His stomach turned.

  There was a body. A contorted body. It was covered in blood.

  It looked like Beth. One of the lab technicians and nurses who looked after Kesha.

  He froze. Froze completely.

  But only until he saw who was beside Beth’s still body.

  Anna.

  She was standing there.

  Tears rolling down her face.

  Horror on her blood-smeared face.

  Kesha was in her arms.

  Covered in blood.

  Chapter Eleven

  Carly stood in the house and felt the tears roll down her cheeks.

  The sun shone in through the windows. She could smell something. Pancakes. Pancakes that she was sure must’ve been cooked recently. And as she smelled them, she thought back to that happy time. The time when she’d made them with Marie; the time when she’d tried flipping her first one and ended up dropping it on the floor. The love they’d made afterwards, still laughing about the failed pancakes, still laughing about everything.

  Happy.

  She swallowed a heavy lump in her throat as she saw the figures of the troops outside begin t
o surround the house. She heard them shouting at her. Shouting at her to step outside, to stand down. Must’ve thought there was someone in here with a weapon. At least she could use that to her advantage; to do what she had to do on her own terms.

  She knew then that this was it. This was her moment. This was when she did it—when she did what she had to do. She didn’t want to. Nobody wanted to do this.

  But there was no other way.

  Not now she knew the truth.

  Not now she’d witnessed the truth, first hand, for herself.

  Now she’d seen Marie fall.

  Now she’d read the note about the infection being airborne.

  Now she’d started bleeding…

  She looked around at the petrol covering the house. She’d found a canister by the door, and she’d spread it around the lounge area as quickly as she could, being sure to cover the boiler in the process. She could smell it. And it relaxed her, somewhat. She’d always liked the smell of petrol. Always comforted her, reminded her of long journeys she’d taken with her family; stops at service stations, where Dad would always get her some gimmicky little sweets or a keyring or something; just anything to put a smile on her face.

  And she smiled as she thought about it, as the figures outside got closer, as they surrounded her. She heard the voices, the shouts, getting louder. She knew she could just stand here. She knew she could just wait. And perhaps she would make it. Perhaps things wouldn’t have to be this way. Perhaps, just perhaps, things could be different.

  But she smiled again when she thought about those pancakes; about the Polaroid; about the time her and Marie spent on those cliffs, happy, together.

  And she closed her eyes.

  She heard the voices get louder. Heard the shouts intensify.

  And all Carly did was take deep breaths of that petrol-fuelled air.

  She was ready now.

  It was time.

  She took the match out of her pocket.

  Rubbed it against the matchbox with her shaky hands.

  “I’m coming now, Marie,” she said. “I’m coming.”

  She took one last look at the match as it dangled between her fingers.

  She held her breath.

  And then she dropped it, and she closed her eyes and waited for the flames…