Dead Days: Season Seven (Dead Days Zombie Apocalypse Series Book 7)

by Ryan Casey

  It took a while for Cody to work out what he was looking at. But the more he focused on it, the more he looked at what lay ahead, the more nervous he grew about making it out of this ghost town.

  There were spikes. Metal spikes, all pressed up against each other, so close that squeezing past them was going to be very hard.

  Judging by the bodies that were pressed onto them by their torsos, bleeding out, many people had already tried.

  “So what now?” Gav asked. “What the fuck now?”

  Cody heard the panic and the frustration building up in the group behind.

  “You seriously fucking telling us this spike pit wasn’t here when you last came through?”

  Steve raised his hands. Backed away from Gav. “Look, I’m only telling you what I saw and how I saw it—”

  “Bullshit.”

  “This wasn’t here. It wasn’t here at all.”

  “And how long ago was that?”

  “Quite a while.”

  “Enough time for bodies to start rotting on the spikes?” Gav shouted. His voice echoed against the buildings.

  “Those rotting bodies could’ve been put there at any time,” Cody interrupted.

  Everyone turned. Looked at him. Some of the group shook their heads, rolled their eyes.

  “You seriously fucking believe that?” Gav asked.

  Cody stood his ground. Held his head high. He looked from Gav to Steve to Maryam. “I have to.”

  Gav waved Cody off. “Maryam, this is bullshit. We need to turn back and get the hell back to the fort. This fucker’s leading us towards our death.”

  Maryam didn’t look at Gav. Instead, she looked at Cody like he was the one with the answers. “Cody?” she said.

  Cody swallowed a sickly taste. He looked back up the street, past the bloody mess. Then he looked at the spikes. “If we take our time we can get through them.”

  “Bullshit,” Gav said, shaking his head and laughing. “Fucking unbelievable.”

  “Then stay behind,” Cody said. He looked at Steve. “We’re pushing on.”

  They started making their way towards the spikes, their footsteps echoing all around the silent town. The rain had stopped, and a hint of sunlight peeked through the clouds. Cody didn’t hear any footsteps following. And he knew what it meant. This was it. He’d probably turned the entire group against him. Nobody was going to follow him through these spikes. Nobody was insane enough to be as faithful as him.

  “Thanks,” Steve said.

  Cody looked at him. “For what?”

  “For having my back. Again. I appreciate it. Really.”

  Cody looked into Steve’s eyes and nodded. “We’ve made it this far. We’re not turning around now—”

  A scream erupted from the group.

  Then footsteps.

  Racing footsteps as people hurtled towards the spikes.

  At first, Cody didn’t understand. Had they had a change of heart? Had they changed their mind? Were they all joining him?

  But then he saw Lewie’s body, split at the waist.

  He saw blood spurting out of Lewie’s mouth. And the more he looked, he saw blood spraying out of Lewie’s stomach, too.

  There was something inside his stomach. Something sharp. Something…

  Lewie dropped to the ground.

  Cody felt sickness take over him.

  It wasn’t just anything inside Lewie’s stomach.

  It was the claws of an Orion.

  “Run!” Cody shouted.

  He grabbed Steve’s arm and hurtled towards the spikes. Up ahead, he could already see terrified members of Maryam’s group trying to squeeze their way through, then slipping on the spikes and piercing their necks, impaling themselves.

  Cody made his way through the first set of spikes, crouching down. He felt the sharp ends of the metal nicking at his skin, scratching his body. He pushed Steve along in front of him, gently, determined not to let Steve slip. Steve couldn’t die. Only he knew where the extraction point was.

  “Maryam!”

  Cody heard Gav’s voice. He heard the fear and panic.

  When he turned around, he saw exactly why.

  Maryam was standing completely still. She was waving her people off, gesturing them to run away without her.

  Standing there, blade raised, looking the seven-foot Orion in its monstrous eyes.

  “No,” Cody muttered.

  “Maryam!” Gav shouted, as he backed off towards the spikes. Cody saw the panic in his eyes. The fear. Gav was a follower of Maryam. All of them were followers of Maryam.

  Without Maryam, there was no order.

  Without Maryam, there was nothing.

  “Go,” Maryam shouted. Cody figured it was directed at Gav. But she didn’t look at Gav.

  She looked right into Cody’s eyes.

  “Go.”

  Cody wanted to go back there. He wanted to help Maryam. He wanted to save her—

  The Orion slashed her throat with its long claws.

  “No!” Gav cried.

  Maryam fell to her knees. Blood spurted out of her throat. A paleness instantly covered her face. She got even paler as more and more blood ejected from her neck, showering down all over the road.

  “Cody, we need to go,” Steve mumbled.

  But Cody didn’t hear Steve properly. He didn’t take his words in.

  He just watched as the Orion lifted Maryam up.

  Watched as it held both sides of her head in its massive hands.

  He watched her face turn red. Watched it turn purple. Watched the blood vessels in the side of her temples burst as her head was compressed even more; watched her eyes bulge out of her skull, staring right at Cody…

  Then… pop.

  He watched as Maryam’s eyes burst out of their sockets.

  Her head caved in.

  Exploded.

  He watched as the gory mess that was once Maryam’s body fell limply to the road below.

  He watched as this woman who’d given him hope of a new world—who’d trusted him to lead her to that new world—became nothing but another bloody decoration on the crusty surface of the earth.

  Another fallen angel in a ghost town.

  Chapter Four

  Kane had never wanted to rescue and murder someone at the same time more than he did right now.

  He walked down the long, winding country road. Rain fell heavily from the sky above, washing away the sweat and grime that’d covered him ever since he’d started this walk. He’d spent all night walking, fighting off undead along the way. He’d spent all night hoping that every time he saw movement, it might be Spud, and that they might be reunited.

  But so far, he hadn’t found Spud. Hadn’t found a single trace of him.

  He felt anger bubbling underneath. Anger and frustration. Spud wasn’t supposed to run away. Spud was his. As much as the dumb little fuck might not realise it yet, he belonged to Kane.

  Kane had spared his life. Even when he’d slaughtered Spud’s family all around him, Kane had saved the little fucker’s life.

  And how had the little fucker repaid him? By grassing him up to a couple of crossbow wielding cunts and leaving him with a nasty fucker of a wound on his left hand.

  Kane looked down at the makeshift bandage he’d created from a piece of his shirt. It’d soiled completely, the blood creeping right through and staining the white. He needed a proper bandage. Proper medical treatment. A dirty little rag around a crossbow wound was a sure-fire recipe for infection, especially in this world.

  But he didn’t have time to stop and disinfect his wound right now. He didn’t have time to do anything.

  Anything, but look for Spud.

  He walked many miles further. The pain in his hand throbbed. He saw a few zombies up ahead, let them get right near to him, gave them the illusion of superiority.

  Then he slashed them right down with his machete.

  He thought Spud was doing so well. They’d killed zombies together. Yesterday was
supposed to be his big day; his moment of graduation, where he moved on from zombies to humans.

  And how had he repaid Kane?

  How had the little fucker repaid Kane?

  By running away like the snivelling coward he was.

  He kept on staggering down the tree-lined roads looking for any sign that Spud might be nearby. As he walked, he heard the voices in his head telling him different things.

  Leave him. He’s not worth it. You’ll find someone else.

  CATCH THE FUCKER CATCH THE LITTLE FUCKER AND MAKE HIM SQUEAL

  No! Catch him, but don’t punish him. He’s young, but he’ll learn. He’ll—

  MAKE HIM SQUIRM SQUIRM SQUIRM.

  Kane slapped the side of his head, eager for the voices to shut up. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he found Spud. He’d just have to trust his intuition, trust his gut when that moment arrived.

  Right now he felt like gouging that little shit’s eyes out for betraying his trust.

  But then there was that word. Trust. Kane had trusted Spud. When could he ever say that about any other person in his entire life? When had he ever trusted anyone?

  He’d trusted Spud. He’d felt something. A bond. A connection.

  He wasn’t going to just turn his back on that. He wasn’t going to just let it die at the side of the road.

  Maybe not, anyway. He’d see how he felt when he found the fucker.

  He kept on wandering down the side of the hilly road. He wanted to hold on to hope, as the rain poured freely now. He wanted to believe.

  But how did he even know Spud had gone this way?

  How did he even know he was on the right path at all?

  Keep the faith, Kane. Keep the faith—

  LEAVE HIM LEAVE HIM LEAVE HIM

  Kane dropped to his knees by the side of the road. He leaned back against the dirt, stared up at the clouds. He let the water fall on his dry lips, into his throat. Why was he being like this? Why was he acting this way? Usually, he was so calm. So excited by the prospect of a new kill. He never worried about things like togetherness or loneliness. He never had to because he’d never had to his entire life.

  Why was he feeling this way now?

  What was wrong with him?

  Let the little fucker go. You owe him no more of your time. He’ll probably die out there or get bitten and regret ever leaving you, anyway.

  “Yes,” Kane said. “That’s it. He’ll regret it. Regret walking away.”

  He felt more confident about himself in a flash. He pushed himself to his feet and started whistling. The moment he started whistling, the more like himself he felt again.

  He was going to move on from Spud. He didn’t need Spud.

  He was going to find someone else to kill.

  Someone else to…

  He saw the body lying in the road.

  It looked like it’d rotted away some time ago. A man. Bite marks on his chest. Maggots and worms wriggling around. Blood on his sharpened teeth.

  But it wasn’t the body itself that had Kane intrigued.

  He crouched down, his hands shaking. Reached for its head. Pulled the object away.

  He rolled it around between his fingers. It was a coincidence. Had to be a coincidence.

  Didn’t it?

  He pulled back his bandage. Looked at the bloodied wound on his palm.

  Then he pressed the sharp metal end of the crossbow bolt against it.

  Pressed it, just to see if it fit.

  He clenched his teeth together. Winced as the pain filled his body, as blood drooled out of his hand.

  It had to be a coincidence. It wouldn’t fit. It wouldn’t—

  The crossbow bolt slipped inside the open wound on Kane’s hand.

  He yelped with agony and tugged it away, sucked the metallic blood from his palm then reapplied the makeshift bandage. He was in pain. In total agony.

  But he didn’t feel bad.

  He didn’t feel bad at all.

  Because he’d found a crossbow bolt.

  The very same kind of crossbow that’d shot him through the hand.

  The people Spud was with.

  “I’m coming for you, you little shit,” Kane muttered. He pulled himself back to his feet, regardless of the throbbing across his hand. “I’m coming for…”

  He heard a groan behind him.

  When he looked around, he saw five zombies walking through the trees.

  “Easy now,” he said. “Give it all you’ve…”

  Then he heard another groan.

  To his left.

  To his right.

  He looked around and saw the zombies closing in.

  Saw them approaching.

  He was surrounded.

  He was trapped.

  Chapter Five

  Kane watched as the zombies surrounded him.

  Some of them were rotting away, like they’d been dead for months. Others looked relatively fresh, with rips on their clothing, clean-looking red blood dribbling down from their torsos.

  There were lots of them. At least one of them in every direction Kane looked. And as they got closer, he heard their groans getting louder. He smelled their deathly stenches, all individual in minor ways, all unique, getting more and more pungent. He held on tight to his machete, tried to stop himself from shaking. His left hand still ached from the crossbow bolt, not as badly, but badly enough.

  He was in the shit right now. He had to see this situation for what it was. Accept it for what it was.

  The closest of the zombies was just eight, seven steps away.

  He saw the truth, then. This was where it ended. This was where he died. After all, he couldn’t take all of these monsters on himself. He needed someone by his side. Someone to help him fight them.

  And he’d had that fucking person. He’d had that fucking person, but he’d turned his back on Kane. Betrayed him.

  So now he had no choice.

  Now he had to accept the situation he found himself in.

  He had to fight.

  He pulled back his machete and slammed it clean through the skull of the first zombie.

  The attack created a frenzy, like dripping some blood into a pool of piranhas. The rest of the zombies picked up in pace. Their groans got louder.

  And their footsteps, their rotting corpses, got closer.

  But Kane wasn’t going to give up.

  He was going to fight.

  He pulled the machete out of the zombie’s head and swung it at the neck of the next one who approached. And then he did the same to another, splitting the blade up through the chin of a zombie, slicing its head in two like it was nothing more than a deliciously tender Scotch egg.

  He kept on turning as the crowd of zombies surrounded him completely. Although there were so many of them—around twenty—he focused on them individually, focused on them one at a time.

  The woman with half her scalp missing, her dried, sun-exposed brain on show.

  The man with one leg, hobbling along on both his good leg—broken from over-use—and the stump.

  He focused on them all. Took them all down, not allowing himself to get distracted.

  He’d killed zombies before. He’d killed people before.

  And he’d stay alive.

  He’d keep on killing.

  He saw Spud in his mind and felt anger in his belly. Anger at that kid for running away from him after he’d saved his fucking life.

  And sure. Kane had killed his family. Kane had slaughtered people right under Spud’s nose.

  But damn, kid. Bygones be bygones and all that. Take a fucking chill pill.

  He felt that anger pouring out of his body as he kept on slamming his machete into more and more of the zombies’ skulls. He picked up his speed. Felt cold blood splashing back against him as the massacre continued. The zombies were so close that he could feel their fingertips touching his skin.

  So he sliced their arms off and then cracked open their heads.

  Befor
e he knew it, there were only four left. But they were close. So close that he couldn’t take them all down individually. So close that he had to think. Fast.

  He closed his eyes.

  Took a deep breath.

  And he swung the machete against the neck of the first one.

  Then carried on right through to the second, to the third, to the fourth, all of them falling away from the bodies with relative ease.

  When the heads were on the ground, Kane stomped down on two of them. Felt them burst under his feet, like large bubble wrap. And boy did he love bubble wrap!

  He split the other two heads in two with his machete.

  He stood back. Blood dripped down his face. He listened to the silence. The total, uninterrupted silence. He’d done this. He’d taken down these zombies alone. Did he really need anyone else? Did he need anyone else to—

  He felt something shove into his back and fell forward onto the rotting gut-smeared road. His machete fell from his grip.

  He turned over. Bony fingers pressed into his body. A zombie. A final fucking zombie. An old woman with wispy white hair and a face like a troll. Half her jaw was missing. But the good half was closing in on Kane’s stomach.

  He reached for the sides of the woman’s head. Pushed it back, hard. He felt the skin pulling away from the flesh, the flesh from the bone, but the teeth still moving towards his belly. Fuck.

  So he pressed his fingers into this woman’s eyes. He pressed every single finger into those tiny eye sockets, wormed his way through the decayed flesh, pushed back, even harder, as maggots and thick black fluid ran down his hands, the smell of shit strong in the air.

  He kept on going as the woman’s teeth touched his stomach.

  Kept on squelching his fingers around her skull.

  Kept on pushing back, pushing back, pushing…

  And then the woman stopped pressing against him.

  She went completely still.

  Kane yanked his hands free of her skull. The left hand was on a shortcut to some general infection now, fuck it. He wiped his hands on his shirt and pushed the woman away.

  Then he lifted his machete and split her head in two, just to be sure.

  This time, as he stood there with the mass of bodies around him, he made sure he really was alone. That he really had dealt with them all.