Dead Days Zombie Apocalypse Series (Season 7)

by Ryan Casey

  Kane looked Spud in the eye again.

  Something twinkled in his eyes. That half-unrecognisable, half-familiar something.

  “I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you,” Kane said.

  He looked into Spud’s eyes and, as he walked on to grab some food, some rest, whatever Mum and Dad offered him, Spud swore Kane smiled.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Cody rushed outside of Maryam’s room when he heard the terrified scream outside their camp.

  The night sky was dark and the air was cool. As Cody ran in the direction of the wall, he saw his breath frosting in front of him. He climbed the ladder to the fort wall and saw more people doing the same, curious as to what was going on. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the groans of the undead outside. But the screams of a man? Out here in the woods, they weren’t as common these days.

  He felt goosebumps creep up his arms as he climbed the ladder. He knew half of what he was going to be facing—he could smell the undead already, so he knew there must be plenty of them out there. But it was those screams of that man that left the bitterest taste in his mouth. He sounded so helpless. So defenceless.

  He sounded like he needed help.

  When he got to the top of the wall and looked down into the glow of the moonlight, he saw a scene almost exactly like he’d imagined.

  There were undead. Lots of undead. Fortunately, they all looked the slower, more decomposed kinds. Not the Uglies, as his group had taken to calling them. And definitely not the Orions, thank the Lord, because there were still a few stray ones out in the wild, living their morbid lives.

  But all of the undead were surrounding a rock formation in the middle of the grass. Two rocks, stacked up against one another, just the way they’d found them when they first got to this place.

  Except there was something in the middle of those two rocks. Someone in the middle.

  The screaming man.

  And the undead were getting closer and closer to squeezing their way between those rocks, tearing the man apart.

  Cody turned back to the ladder. “We have to go out there.”

  A hand grabbed his arm. Gav. “No.”

  “What the fuck do you mean, ‘no’? We can’t just leave that guy to die out there.”

  “You know what the rules are around here.”

  “Fuck the rules.”

  “Those rules are in place for a reason, Cody. Don’t fucking mess with them, or you mess with every single person here.”

  Cody saw Gav’s point, as the man kept on screaming. They didn’t like letting new people in because new people should always be viewed as a risk, viewed with suspicion. He’d seen enough reasons to suspect people. Just earlier today, a little boy had tried to kill him to feed to his zombie-baby friends.

  But he couldn’t accept that everyone was bad. That everyone had some kind of ulterior motive. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be the way the world worked.

  “Then banish me if you have to,” Cody said, pushing past Gav. “I’m going out there myself.”

  “Cody, wait!”

  Cody rushed down the ladder. He pushed open the gate and forced his way outside, grabbing a pistol and a pickaxe from one of the gawping younger wall guards just before he left. He slammed the gates shut, then he walked in the direction of the undead, gun in one hand, pickaxe in the other.

  He felt vulnerable out here. He felt alone. He felt like he might fall at any time.

  But he wasn’t giving up on this man. He wasn’t leaving him to die. He wasn’t leaving anyone else to die.

  He slammed the pickaxe into the skull of the closest undead to him. It only took that one hit for the rest of the undead to notice him; to turn around and move on to him, easier, more open prey.

  “Come on then.” He swung the pickaxe into the face of the next undead. Then into the face of the next, taking them on one by one, drawing them away from that rock.

  The more undead he took down, the more confident he grew that he could help this man. That whoever he was, he didn’t have to die here. That life didn’t have to end.

  And then he felt a hand grab his arm—the one holding the pickaxe—and saw a mouth closing in.

  He braced himself. Braced himself for the teeth to pierce his flesh. At least he’d go down fighting. At least he’d go down doing what he had to do—

  A blast.

  A splatter of blood all over his arm.

  The hand loosened, the mouth closed, and the undead fell to the ground.

  “That’s your last fucking chance, Cody,” Gav shouted, pointing a gun at the fallen undead beside Cody. “You come back here right now. Don’t make me do this.”

  Cody looked up at Gav. He’d saved his life. He owed him for that.

  But he had other things on his mind right now.

  He took down a few more undead. Cracked skulls, split temples, and then he reached the rock formation where the man was stuck.

  “Please,” the man muttered. “Please help. Please.”

  Cody lowered his pickaxe. Held out his hand as Gav and the others on the wall shouted at him to get back there. “It’s okay now. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

  “I don’t wanna come out. I don’t—Please. Please.”

  Cody extended his hand even further. “I need you to give me your hand. I need you to trust me. Please.”

  The man hesitated. Whimpered some more.

  Then he took Cody’s hand.

  Cody eased the man out from between the rock formation. He felt proud of himself. Like a light had sparked in his life. He turned back to the wall and saw Gav was pointing his rifle right at the man’s chest.

  “Don’t do this,” Gav shouted. “You know what the rules are.”

  “I told you what I think of the shitting r…”

  Cody didn’t finish. All around him, in the trees, he heard footsteps. Groans. Cries. He heard a slight humming noise. Smelled sweetness.

  His stomach turned.

  The Uglies.

  The Uglies were coming.

  He ran towards the wall, towards the gate, the man’s hand in his.

  “Let us in!”

  Gav held his rifle. The rest of the wall guards held their rifles, focused down on Cody and the man he’d rescued as those Uglies got closer and closer.

  Cody banged on the gate, which could only be opened from inside. “Let us in! Let us the fuck in!”

  It was then that Cody saw them. Saw them in the corner of his eyes. Their pulpy heads. Teeth stretching right down their necks. Inhuman, almost alien.

  The Uglies.

  They took a moment. Studied their prey.

  Then they hurtled in Cody and the man’s direction.

  Cody kept on banging at the gate. The man whimpered, cried.

  “Your name,” Cody said.

  “What?”

  “Your name. What’s your fucking name?”

  “Steve,” the man said. “I’m—I’m Steve. Please. I need—”

  “Steve. I’m Cody. And you’re going to just have to trust me here, okay?”

  Steve didn’t look too thrilled with the idea. But he stayed put. Held his ground.

  Cody looked up at Gav. The man who’d saved his life just moments ago was leaving him to die all for some bullshit rules.

  “Please, Gav,” Cody said.

  Gav’s focus didn’t waver. His attention didn’t waver.

  “Open this—”

  The gate opened up.

  Cody and Steve fell through it.

  They rushed inside. The Uglies weren’t far behind, nipping at their heels.

  Then someone pulled the gate shut—

  But an Ugly stuffed its face through the gap, snarled.

  “Fuck!” Aiden, the guy at the gate, cried. He fell back. The gate started opening up again. The Uglies were pushing through.

  Cody ran over to it. Swung his pickaxe at the Ugly’s head. Kept on going until the yellowy mass of tumour-like flesh burst.

  Then he kicked the body
out of the gate before its arms and legs could sprout back to life.

  He stepped back. Stepped back as gunfire from the walls and the screams of the Uglies sparked the night to life. When he turned, he saw Maryam standing there. So she’d given the order to let them in. She’d given the damned order.

  “I couldn’t let him die.”

  Maryam’s face didn’t even twitch on either side.

  Two guards ran over to Steve. They kicked the back of his legs, knocked him to the ground.

  “Who are you? What the fuck do you want?”

  “Wait, wait,” Cody said, raising his hands. “He’s called Steve.”

  “What the fuck do you want?” the guards barked.

  “Please,” Steve said. There was fear in his voice, but there was calmness to it now, too. Like he was at ease in this kind of situation. Like he’d been in situations like this before.

  He looked up. Looked at Maryam, at the guards around him, blood dribbling down his face from his nostrils.

  “Tell us who you are,” Gav shouted, joining the inquisition. “Tell us what you want.”

  Steve lifted his shaking hands. He looked at Cody and he smiled. “Friends, I’m Steve. And I bring good news. Very good news.”

  A few mumbles. A few whispers of confusion. This guy seemed too calm. Too happy.

  “What news?” Maryam asked, breaking her silence.

  Steve looked right across the dirty ground at her. Looked right into her eyes, that smile still on his face. “News of an extraction point. News of a way out of Britain and into the wider world. News of a way out of hell and into a new world. Just fifty miles from here.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kane tucked into his roast pigeon and imagined the taste of human blood dripping down into his throat.

  The day had gone fast since he’d found his way to this farm. The people here—Ralph, Kerry, and the extended family they surrounded themselves with—seemed nice and welcoming. Exactly what he wanted.

  Outside, Kane heard the wind rattling against the window, as what sounded like the first storm of the autumn brewed up. He looked around the dinner table. Looked at Ralph, tucking into his pigeon, which he boasted of catching as if it was some fucking major life achievement. He looked at Kerry too, cutting smaller portions of it, then at Paulo, Shelley, Bill. All of them looked happy. All of them chatted like comfortable people chatted in the old world. Not his old world, but the old world he knew of.

  The air was rich with the smell of the cooked bird, but Kane smelled something else. He smelled imminent death. He tasted the metallic rust of blood, which would soon follow. It was all going to be so easy. It was all going so well.

  But there was a spanner in the works, once again.

  The spanner came in the form of Spud, Ralph and Kerry’s son. He looked at Kane in a strange way, with his narrow eyes, his chubby face. There was a look as if Spud knew what Kane was. As if he knew what Kane was capable of and he was curious.

  Well, “Spud,” you horrible named little shit. You’re gonna find out what old Kane’s capable of real soon.

  But the way he scowled at him, knowing and inquisitive, across the table. Kane couldn’t help but admire it, in a way.

  “So where were you before this place, Kane?” Paulo asked.

  Kane took a sip of his wine and smiled. “I was just west of here. The log cabins over at Centre Parcs.”

  “Damn,” Shelley said. “That place is still standing?”

  “Just about,” Kane said.

  “And you’ve been… alone all this time?”

  “I’ve been with groups along the way. But you know how it is. Groups don’t last. Not in this world.”

  Bill coughed, out of necessity or craving for attention, Kane wasn’t sure. “Speak for yourself. We’ve been doing pretty well.”

  Good for you, arrogant cunt. Good for fucking you. Let’s see how pretty well you’re doing when I shove a skewer up your tight little ass.

  “You’ve been fortunate, clearly,” Kane said, raising his glass and looking at each and every one of the diners. The wind howled on outside. “Fortunate to be surrounded by a family like this.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Paulo said.

  Everyone else followed.

  Everyone except Spud, who kept on scowling across the table at Kane.

  Kane reached for his pocket. He had a smaller knife in there. He thought about leaning to his left right now and slitting Bill’s throat. Watching his blood spray across the table, snapping this perfect little family out of their moment of happiness; their moment of invincibility.

  But he felt like he needed Spud on board before he did anything. He wanted them all to believe in him. To trust him.

  Then, he’d tear them apart, one by delicious one.

  “So, Spud. What do you get up to on a farm like this? Any girls you like?”

  A few of the diners laughed. Paulo nudged Spud in his side as Shelley ruffled his hair.

  “He’s quiet at first,” Kerry said. “But you’ll get on a blast once you get to know one another, I’m sure.”

  “Oh, I’m sure we will,” Kane said, rubbing his tongue against the red wine as it crystallised on his teeth.

  Spud kept on looking at him, scowling at him, like a dog staring and growling at someone they instinctively knew wasn’t an animal person.

  “Anyway,” Kane said, flicking the knife back into his pocket. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I need the bathroom.”

  “You know where it is?” Ralph asked.

  “I’ll find my way.”

  Kane walked out of the dining room, across the hallway, and locked himself in the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror. Looked into his eyes. That little scar on his chin. The specks of stubble. He didn’t recognise himself. He’d not recognised himself for years. That man in the mirror was just an illusion. A face. The real Kane? The real Kane was underneath.

  Underneath the toilet tank cover.

  He opened the cover and smiled when he saw his weapons were still in there.

  His machete. His prized killing device.

  And a pistol with just six bullets. One he’d taken from Peter and Mandy’s place. Backup, in case he needed it. Whatever he used, he was going to have some fun. A lot of fun.

  He reached in. Lifted his weapons out. Dumb bastards hadn’t even checked him on arrival. They were so understanding. So trusting.

  It was going to be the death of them.

  Kane turned around and walked out of the bathroom door, braced himself to go back into that dining room, to slam the machete across Shelley’s perfect, soft neck.

  But when he stepped out, he saw Spud standing in the hallway.

  Kane moved the weapons behind his back. Tucked them under his jacket. “Spud. You gave me quite a fright.”

  “Need the bathroom,” Spud said.

  Spud walked towards Kane, who had to shuffle to make sure the weapons were out of sight. “See you back in there,” he said.

  He swore Spud had seen the weapons. He swore he’d looked right at them.

  Kane headed back into the dining room. He walked past Paulo, Bill, Shelley, Kerry, and Ralph, walked past all of them and examined their heads like they were eggs, debating which shell to crack first.

  And then he sat down. He sat down and was met with a cold bowl of rice pudding before him.

  “Hey, it’s not the Ritz,” Ralph said, grinning. “But it’s something, right?”

  “The small pleasures in life,” Kane said.

  Kane waited for Spud to return to the dining room, which he did, without issue. He waited for Spud to take his seat. For Ralph to lift his spoon and go to tuck into his rice pudding.

  “I’d like to raise a toast if you don’t mind,” Kane said.

  Ralph stopped as if he was disappointed about Kane’s rice pudding interruption.

  Kane stood. “A toast. To all of you. To all of us.”

  Ralph nodded. Paulo smiled. Both reached for their wines, and
the rest of the table followed. Spud was last to stand, holding on to his Coca-Cola, still glaring at Kane.

  “A thank you. A sincere thank you for your hospitality. All of you.”

  “Amen!” Paulo shouted.

  Kane stood there. Stood and watched as the guests chinked their glasses against one another.

  He looked to his left and saw Ralph smiling.

  “Why aren’t you joining in our toast, huh?” he asked.

  Kane smiled. “Because my hands are full as it is.”

  He saw a momentary flicker of concern on Ralph’s face.

  But it was already too late.

  He pulled the machete out of his coat and slammed it into Ralph’s skull.

  He heard the crack. The split of bone. He watched dark blood trickle at first, then flood out, the light drifting from Ralph’s eyes as he stumbled from left to right.

  He dropped his red wine to the floor.

  And then he fell and cracked his split head on the edge of the table.

  It was only then that Kerry saw what was happening. That she registered what’d just happened to her husband.

  She screamed.

  Kane pulled out the pistol and fired two shots into her neck. Then he leaned across the table, pulled Paulo towards him, hacked and hacked away at the top of his spine until his head barely hung on by a thread.

  He tasted it in the air. Tasted the freshness of a kill as he moved on to Shelley, as he moved on to Bill. He smelled the freshness of death and he felt whole. Because this was what he enjoyed. This was who he was. And the new world? It let him be who he wanted to be. It let him dance to his own beautiful, blood-soaked tune.

  Thirty seconds later, the room was silent.

  Kane stood there. Stood and looked at the bodies. He saw the cream carpet was stained with red wine and blood. He saw the twitching fingers of the dead. If he listened close enough, he could hear Kerry struggling to breathe as she battled the bullets in her neck.

  “It’ll be over soon, sweet. You just keep as cool as you can.”

  Kane whistled. He whistled as the euphoria of the kill infected his body. As the taste of pigeon mixed with the taste of blood. As he crunched over fallen wine glasses, brushed past wasted food.

  He stopped when he reached Spud.

  Spud was lying on the floor, completely still. His white and blue striped polo shirt was completely covered in blood. He was still. His eyes were closed.