by Ryan Casey
“I’ll tell you why we can’t just follow. Harvey. Andre. Suzy. The people we’ve lost following this inept little bitch. That’s why we can’t just keep on following.”
“But Suzy—”
“I know. I know what I did to Suzy.” The memory returned to Jackson’s mind. Seeing the zombies approaching. Luring Suzy outside with promise of a discovery. Pushing her into them.
“I know what I did to her. But I did it for a reason. And I wouldn’t have had to do it at all if that little… if Chloë had told us about the transmission in the first place.”
Colin opened his mouth to respond. A moment later, it closed.
“What we’re doing here,” Jackson said. “We’re doing it because we’re sick of losing people. We’re doing it because we’re sick of being weak. Sick of this—this suicide mission. This little cripple’s fantasy. We’re doing it because we want to survive. And if we want to survive, we need to expand. And if we want to expand, we need to—”
“Get her out the way,” Colin said.
Jackson nodded. He wiped the sweat from his top lip. He shouldn’t lash out at Colin. Colin was one of his. Colin respected the leader Jackson could be. He needed to appreciate that. To be grateful for that.
“So… what do we do?”
Jackson stopped. Looked up at the mouth of the woods. Listened to the branches brushing against one another in the wind. Saw the darkness of thick tree covering ahead. Heard movement beyond the blackness. Felt eyes watching.
And then he looked at Chloë. Caught a glance. Smiled at her.
“We go through the woods,” Jackson said.
He patted Colin on the back. Colin flinched.
“Little girls get lost in the woods all the time. Right?”
12
TWELVE
Chloë did everything she could to ignore the feeling that she was being watched.
It was still mid-afternoon, but you couldn’t be blamed for thinking it was evening. Chloë forgot just how much the trees of the woodlands sheltered her from the harshness of the sun. Good job she’d spent so long surviving in the woods. She wasn’t sure she’d have made it if she hadn’t been sheltered.
But these woods were thicker than the ones she’d lived in.
The darkness was intense.
Sharp pine needles sneaked between her toes. Made her wish for shoes.
And Chloë swore she saw movement, shuffling, in every direction.
“Stay close,” Chloë whispered. Her voice echoed through the woods. It was so silent. Too silent, in a way. She felt the same way about these woods as she’d felt about Hopeforth when they first got there. It wasn’t a good feeling. Wasn’t a good feeling at all.
But it was here, or risk being seen by the bandits. The other people that Jackson told her about. The ones that stole from her group, that ransacked Hopeforth.
She didn’t want to cross paths with them.
Not just because of who they were. But because of what they were. People.
The darkness grew thicker the further they walked. The breeze calmed. It was much cooler in these woods. Some of the group seemed to be liking it more than others. Dave and Dan joked amongst themselves, like they used to when they were happy. Alice chatted with Arnold. Even Jackson and that weird man called Colin had smiles on their faces.
Which was good. She needed people to be happy.
She needed people to believe they were going to make it.
“I don’t think Jackson was telling the truth back there.”
Dad’s voice startled Chloë. She looked to her left. Saw him by her side. He wasn’t looking right at her. Just looking ahead. Looking towards the growing mass of trees.
“What—what do you mean?”
He glanced at her. Then turned quickly away. “What he said. About that group being the ones who stole from us. I don’t believe he was telling the truth.”
Chloë saw something move through the branches on her right. But the moment she settled her gaze on it, it stopped. Like it wasn’t even there at all.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t know,” Dad whispered, keeping up with Chloë’s pace. “But something… something just doesn’t seem right, to me. Something doesn’t seem right at all. It seems off. Jackson. He’s…” He lowered his voice some more. “He’s never been the warmest of men. Not with any of us. Right?”
“You noticed his change too then.”
“Course I did. Guy’s suddenly become moderately reasonable. That’s a turnaround. And I don’t like it. I’m not sure what to make of it.”
Dad stopped. And it took Chloë a moment to realise exactly why he’d stopped.
But then she saw it.
She saw it moving through the branches just ahead.
A shadow.
She heard the group still walking, still chattering. Held up her hand.
“What…”
And then they stopped.
They went silent.
Together, they watched the shadow drift through the trees.
Chloë’s heart picked up. She tried to focus on the shadow. Tried to squint to see it more clearly. But she couldn’t make it out. If it was a monster, it would’ve groaned by now, surely. If it was a person… then what were they doing out here?
She watched in silence.
Everyone watched in silence.
And then she heard the scream.
It was loud. Ear-splittingly loud. Somewhere to the left. No, maybe to the right.
She looked around. Looked back at the group.
“The fuck was that?” Hassan said.
And then she heard it again.
There was something about the scream. Something… familiar about it. A quiver rose in Chloë’s stomach. She looked around. Tried to find the shadow again. The shadow that drifted through the woods.
But it was gone.
“I’ll repeat,” Hassan said. “What the fuck was that?”
Chloë looked up at her dad. He looked back at her, blinking rapidly.
She reached into her pocket.
Pulled out the knife.
“Keep going.”
She walked, but she didn’t hear any footsteps behind her.
“You expect us to just keep walking?” Dave said.
Chloë nodded. “Whoever made that noise is gone now—”
“Chloë, I like you,” Dave said, stepping closer. “You know I like you. But you told us before. We don’t leave people behind. So if there’s someone out there needs help, maybe we should…”
Dave didn’t have to finish his sentence. Chloë knew exactly what he wanted to say. Maybe they should investigate. Find out where the scream came from.
But as always, the suggestion made her stomach feel rock hard. Made her want to run away. Because she couldn’t. She couldn’t investigate. Because it could mean trouble.
No. It would mean trouble. Because other people were always trouble.
“We need to press on. We’ll take a right. Away from the scream.”
A few curses from the group. A few groans.
Jackson didn’t say a word. Didn’t show a glimmer of emotion.
To think of it, Chloë swore she saw him smile.
She carried on. Moved forward. Her dad stayed by her side. He hadn’t said a word since the scream. Chloë knew he would eventually. And she knew exactly what he’d say. That they needed to help people. Needed to let other people in.
But he was wrong.
He was wrong, because he hadn’t seen what she saw.
He hadn’t been through what she’d been through at the hands of other people.
The mud in the woods got thicker, slipperier. The wind dropped even more. When Chloë looked right up, she couldn’t even see the sky anymore. But she knew they’d reach the other side of this woods eventually. And if Dad was right, they’d put them on a road right towards Pwllheli.
A long road. A dangerous road.
But a start.
“Oh shit,” Dan
said, rolling his trousers up to his knees. “Mud. Always knew I shoulda brought my wellies along with me.”
“Look on the bright side,” Dave said, wading along in front of his partner. “Give you a chance to get some colour on those pasty legs of yours.”
The pair of them laughed. Chloë saw Arnold tut, roll his eyes, like he did whenever Dave and Dan laughed around.
“Now now, Danny boy. You know damn well there’s a difference between fake tan and—”
Dave didn’t finish speaking.
Something grabbed him.
Something dragged him into the trees.
He didn’t fight back. Didn’t even scream.
He just disappeared.
Chloë stared at the place Dave had stood. Looked at the mud splattered over Dan, over Mandy.
She looked at the rest of the group, their wide eyes looking back at her.
“What—” Dan started.
Then, the scream.
Chloë felt butterflies in her chest. The scream. Not Dave’s scream. But a scream identical to the one she’d heard before.
To her left.
To her right.
To her—
“Fuck it. Dave!”
She saw Dan drag himself out of the mud. Saw him hurtle towards the trees to her right.
No. This couldn’t happen. The group couldn’t split. Not again.
“Wait!” she shouted.
She ran in Dan’s direction. Slipped her dad’s grip. Rushed towards the trees. She heard footsteps behind her as she pursued Dan.
“It’s okay, Dave!” Dan shouted. “I’m coming!”
And then she heard another scream. Only this time it was further away. Much further away.
“Chloë, wait!” Dad shouted.
But she didn’t. She couldn’t.
She kept on running through the thickening trees.
Plunging further into the darkness.
She looked around for Dan. He couldn’t be far away. And neither could Dave.
No.
Something had got Dave.
Something had dragged him into the woods.
Something had—
She stopped running when she crashed into something.
She fell onto her back. Felt cold mud seep through her cloak.
It took her a moment to realise the thing she’d crashed into was Dan.
She stood up. Walked over to Dan. He was staring at something. Staring at something directly ahead.
She walked over to him. Put a hand on his arm. “Dan, what’s…”
Dan turned around.
Blood drooled out of his neck.
His skin had gone grey and pale.
He was looking right at Chloë.
With dead eyes.
Chloë tried to stagger back. Tried to grab her knife.
But Dan got to her first.
Pushed her to the ground.
Pressed her into the mud.
And as Chloë struggled, as she tried to fight her way free, Dan did something.
Something that made black spots appear in her eyes.
That made everything else—sound, feeling, time—disappear into the background.
Dan—Monster Dan—opened his mouth.
Let out a high-pitched scream.
Beside him, Dave emerged. Windpipe dangling down his neck. Intestines trailing out of his torso.
He looked at Chloë. Looked at her on the forest floor.
And then he let out an identical scream.
13
THIRTEEN
Chloë did everything she could to claw her way out of Dan’s solid grip as Dave continued to scream.
She rolled to the left. Lashed out, tried to get a hold of his head. Behind, in the thick trees, she could hear panic. Footsteps running away. People shouting. Someone calling her name.
But all that Chloë could focus on was Dan.
Dan’s bleached white teeth snapping at her face.
And Dave, his boyfriend, standing behind him, descending towards Chloë’s ankles while continuing to scream.
Scream like a human.
A human in pain.
Even though he was everything but human now.
Chloë reached for her knife with a trembling hand. She kicked up at Dan’s monster. Kicked him right in his chest. In between his legs. Everywhere to keep his teeth away from her skin.
She fumbled around in the boggy ground for her knife. No sign of it. No—
Then she saw it.
Saw it, just inches away.
Someone standing over it.
Jackson.
Jackson picked the knife up. Looked at Chloë. And in the flicker of a moment, Chloë saw the way he pulled back slightly. Saw the way he hesitated.
“Jackson!” she shouted. “Please—please help—”
Jackson turned to Dave’s monster.
Pulled the knife back as Dave hurtled towards him, almost slipping on his intestines.
Screaming.
And then Jackson buried the knife into Dave’s temple with one swift swing.
Chloë kept on struggling with Dan. Pressed her forearm against his bloody neck. Felt warm blood dripping onto her body as Dan gasped and growled, the colour draining from his skin, completely unrecognisable from the man she knew, the man she was friends with.
Behind, in the woods, Chloë heard more screams. She heard her dad shout out for her.
And then she heard gunfire.
Jackson flinched. Turned around. He still had the knife in his hand. He still wasn’t helping Chloë.
“Throw me the knife!”
Jackson stared into space.
“Jackson! Throw me the—”
Dan slipped out of Chloë’s grip.
His snapping jaw closed in on her shoulder.
Chloë clenched her eyes shut.
Rolled over to the left as quickly as she could.
Dan’s teeth pummelled into the mud.
Chloë yanked herself away. Stood above him, his face in the dirt.
And then she pulled back her foot and kicked him in the side of the head.
Hard.
She kicked him again. Again and again and again until he was bleeding right down his face from his cracked nose.
And then she reached for a log. Lifted it. Readied to swing it at Dan’s head.
She saw the look in his eyes. Just for a moment. A look of fear. A look of the old Dan.
She saw it, and she felt her body turning cold. She saw what she was doing as if she was outside her body. As if she was watching herself.
Watching herself kill Dan.
Watching herself lose another group member.
And then something pushed into her back and she fell face flat in the dirt.
Dan didn’t waste a moment grabbing her hair. He yanked it so hard that Chloë felt some strands of it tear away. She fumbled for the log. Heard gunshots again. Gunshots, footsteps.
She heard her dad shouting out for her.
But he seemed further away.
Much further away.
Chloë turned around. Her eyes were filled with damp mud. She looked Dan in his blue eyes. Looked at the tears of blood rolling down his pale cheeks. Looked at the pieces of flesh squeezing out of his bitten neck like toothpaste from a tube.
She looked at his snapping teeth and waited for him to move towards her. Waited for him to take another bite.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Dan opened his mouth.
Hurtled towards Chloë’s face.
Chloë grabbed the log.
Held it up.
Pressed it into Dan’s open mouth.
Pushed.
She heard Dan’s teeth cracking against the log. Saw bits of wood splitting away as he tried to bite down.
But she just kept on pressing.
Kept on pushing it through his torn mouth.
Stuffing it right into the back of his throat.
And Dan didn’t even try struggling free. He was too fo
cused on reaching Chloë. Too focused on biting through the wood and getting to his prey.
The log ripped open Dan’s cheeks. Sent blood tumbling over Chloë. She felt the back of his throat splitting. Felt it tearing under the force, under the pressure.
She held her breath.
She had to stay calm.
She had to stay focused.
She looked to her right. Saw Dan edging nearer to the ground.
She looked back up at Dan.
Looked him in his eyes.
“Time to go now, Dan.”
And then she let go of the wood.
Shifted away.
Dan tried to turn and see what Chloë was doing.
But he was already too late.
He fell onto the ground.
The wood split through the back of his neck.
Cracked his teeth.
Impaled him in the mud.
Chloë stepped away. Wiped the blood from her forehead. She looked at Dan, lying there in the mud, still trying the shake free of the wood. And she felt sympathy for him. She felt sadness.
By his side, Dave’s body lay.
Two people who’d loved each other.
Two people who’d been good to Chloë. Who respected her.
Two more losses.
She heard the scream.
She turned around. Looked through the thick trees. This scream wasn’t like the one before. Not the one the monsters made—fuck, the monsters made those screams.
No. This one was a man’s scream. A man’s cry.
A man who sounded like Dad.
Her heart raced.
She had to get back.
She had to find Dad.
She had to—
Dan’s monster dragged itself upright. The log dangled down from the hole in the back of its throat.
Chloë looked around. Looked for something—anything—she could use as a weapon.
The scream. The man’s scream again, somewhere in the distance.
She looked back at Dan.
Then she did the only thing she could right now.
She turned around and she ran.
She sprinted through the trees. Branches slashed her skin. She heard Dan’s footsteps getting closer. Heard him panting as he raced her through the woods. He was quick. Quicker than the usual slow ones they came across.
He was quick, and he could scream.
What were these monsters?
What were these…
Up ahead, two more monsters emerged.
A woman with long, blonde hair, all matted and tufted. She was naked. Her left breast had been devoured.
