Chloe Zombie Apocalypse series (Book 3): Chloe (A New World)

by Ryan Casey

  “I enjoyed watching Laura get ripped to pieces,” Chloë shouted.

  She wasn’t sure where those words came from. But just saying them made the anger inside her build up.

  In the corner of her eye, she saw Kyle stop. Turn around. Look back towards her. “What did you say?”

  Chloë tightened her fingers around a long, sharp fragment of Dad’s skull. “I watched the Orion rip her up. She looked so scared. And I—I laughed. I laughed at how scared she looked.”

  Kyle stayed still for a few seconds. Didn’t move a muscle.

  And then he started to walk back towards Chloë.

  “I pissed on her dead body,” Chloë said. “Mashed it up a bit. Just to make it look even more of a mess.”

  “Stop.”

  “The best part was when the Orion bit her back. Ripped out her spine. It just slid out, like–”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  Chloë heard Kyle’s pistol click. And as she looked up at him, she knew there was only one way forward now. For Kyle, anyway.

  He was going to finish her off.

  He was going to kill her.

  He walked closer towards Chloë. And as he got closer, he lowered his gun. Started to untangle his belt. “You know, I thought about just letting you go. Then I thought about killing you. Now? I think we’ll try something else, don’t you?”

  He put his gun in his pocket.

  He dropped his trousers.

  Put Kesha down in the dirt.

  Crouched down over Chloë.

  “I think we’ll try something else.”

  Chloë smiled. “Watch your back.”

  Kyle’s eyes narrowed. Just for a second.

  And then Chloë pressed the sharp fragment of skull into the back of Kyle’s neck.

  Hard.

  She kept on pressing it down. Kept on ramming it further and further through his skin and muscle. She reached up. Wrapped her broken, jagged teeth around his Adam’s apple. Bit down hard, so that she tasted his blood like warm juice on her lips.

  Kyle punched away at her. Shouted away at her. And when she’d stopped stabbing his neck, she went for his genitals. Scratched at his stomach.

  The gun dropped from his pocket.

  He tried to pull away. Tried to reach for Kesha as Chloë stopped stabbing, as she struggled for the gun.

  And then he pinned down Chloë’s hand. Chloë felt a sharp burning sensation, then heard something crack in her wrist.

  But she just kept on twisting her fingers, reaching for that gun, as Kyle’s blood splattered over her.

  “Little—little bitch,” Kyle choked. He pulled his hand back. Pressed it against his neck. And then he fell back. Fell back, shuffled towards Kesha, the shock plain to see on his face.

  Chloë battled through every inch of pain spreading through her body.

  She lifted the gun. Raised it, despite all the pain it caused her, despite having no energy left.

  Kyle reached for Kesha. Lifted her.

  And then he turned around. Started staggering down the hill, like a wounded animal determined to get home no matter what.

  Chloë kept her focus on Kyle’s back. Squeezed her weak fingers tighter around the trigger.

  She waited for the blast.

  Waited for the blast that’d finish him.

  “You little b—”

  Chloë pulled the trigger.

  The bullet flew out of the end of the gun.

  The blast echoed through the hills.

  But something happened in that final moment.

  Something happened in that millisecond between Chloë pulling the trigger and Chloë’s brain registering what was happening.

  Kyle turned around.

  He turned around and he held Kesha up.

  The bullet hurtled towards them.

  Towards Kesha.

  The bullet hit.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Chloë stared down at what remained of the Manchester Living Zone.

  She wasn’t sure how to feel as the sun peeked through the clouds and illuminated it. It was strange, seeing a place she’d spent so long surviving in. Breathing air that she used to be around every single day. And she’d had a feeling all along that this place might not be as she remembered. That it might’ve changed. That some people might’ve died, and maybe a whole new group had taken over.

  She’d just not expected anything like the scene in front of her.

  The walls of the Manchester Living Zone had collapsed in several places. And in those places, monsters poured in. Poured into the already flooded interior.

  Cram packed with monsters.

  Cram packed with the undead.

  She stood there. Stood by the side of the hill and stared for a while. The left side of her body stung from the gunshot. She knew she couldn’t stay here forever. She’d already had to take down eight or nine monsters on her way here. And more of them would be upon her soon. She knew that much.

  But just staring at this place. It made her realise just how lost she was. Just how alone she was.

  The memory thumped her in the middle of the chest.

  Lifting that gun with her shaking hand.

  Squeezing her finger around the trigger.

  Kyle turning.

  Kesha turning towards the bullet…

  Chloë blanked out her memory at that point. She swallowed a lump in her throat. She looked down at the thing in her hand. The sharp skull fragment that she’d taken from her dad. She knew it was horrible. She knew it was morbid.

  But it was him.

  It was a part of him.

  He was with her, and he was keeping her alive, no matter what.

  She heard some monsters to her right. Saw them staggering in her direction. And she knew she had no choice now. No choice but to turn around. To walk away.

  She took one final look at what was left of the Manchester Living Zone.

  And then she turned around and started her ascent back through the streets, back towards the hills, back towards Rivington.

  Alone…

  Except, no.

  She wasn’t alone.

  She felt Kesha wriggling around on her back. She’d found a backpack along the way, and after some adjusting, she’d managed to strap Kesha to her. It kept her arm free anyway. Kept it free to take on any monsters. To put down anyone who might try and stand in her way.

  “You okay?” Chloë whispered.

  Kesha gargled. Let out a little giggle. Such spirit for a kid who was starving and thirsty.

  For a kid who was inches away from taking a bullet.

  A bullet that narrowly missed her.

  Pierced through Kyle’s neck.

  Put him down, once and for all.

  Chloë climbed further away from the MLZ. The climb was tricky, especially with the wound on her side. It was getting hot, starting to burn. But she’d be okay. She’d have to be okay. Because she had Kesha to look after now.

  She took a final look back at the MLZ. Remembered the good people she used to know there. The old group she was with. Riley. Jordanna. All the others.

  And she wished she’d been able to take her dad there. Wished he’d been able to meet them.

  “Maybe in another life,” Chloë mumbled.

  She stared back down at the walls. At the streets, filled with undead. At the apartment block that she used to live in. That she used to call home.

  Except it never was home. Not like out here. Not like in the wild.

  That was home to her.

  That’s where she found her strength.

  Where she discovered who she really was.

  She took a deep breath and turned away from the Manchester Living Zone.

  Then, she started walking.

  She didn’t look back again. Not once.

  She could only look forward now.

  For herself

  For Kesha.

  For Dad.

  FORTY-FIVE

  Two days later when the sun rose again, Chloë foun
d herself sitting up against a tree in the middle of the Rivington woods.

  Her stomach was so hungry her trousers wouldn’t stay up. Her skin was shaky. She kept seeing squirrels running past in this woods and wanting to catch them, but she didn’t have the strength. She only had the strength to sit here and watch.

  And that was calming, in a way.

  That made her feel okay.

  A little bit.

  She heard Kesha crying a little beside her. She turned her head. Looked over at her. She could see her ribs protruding through her pale skin. The purplish hue of her face. She knew it wasn’t good. She knew she had to get Kesha somewhere safe. But she was out of energy. She was out of everything.

  She started to get up to see to Kesha when she felt the sharp pain split through her side.

  She looked down. Looked down at where the bullet grazed her skin. It was swollen. The skin around it was very red. Chloë’s throat was sore, and she felt shivery even though she was sweating.

  She knew what that meant. She was infected. Not with the infection that turned people into monsters. The infection that just killed people full stop.

  Still, she struggled through the leaves. She kept on struggling until she reached Kesha’s side.

  She stroked her head. “It’s okay. I’m here. Mum… Mummy’s here.”

  Kesha kept on crying.

  Chloë didn’t find herself getting annoyed. Instead, she found herself cuddling up closer to Kesha. Feeling her warmth, even if there wasn’t much warmth left. And she found herself starting to do something else. Something she didn’t do very often.

  She started to cry.

  She held on to a crying Kesha, and she cried.

  But not just because she was upset about her dad. Not just because she was upset because she’d lost everyone she used to care about.

  But because she loved Kesha. And she was going to miss her. And she wished she could’ve done more for her.

  “I just—I just wish I had more in me,” Chloë said.

  Kesha responded by clutching at Chloë’s hair. Putting it in her mouth. Sucking it.

  Chloë looked at Kesha as she tried to munch down on her hair. And she found herself laughing, then. Laughing, tears still streaming down her face. “You’re an angel,” Chloë said. “You’re… you’re my angel.”

  She heard those words coming from her own lips and she remembered how her mum used to speak to her that way. How her dad used to speak to her that way.

  She was their angel.

  They did everything they could for her.

  So what was Chloë doing giving up?

  Despite all the weakness and pain in Chloë’s body, she lifted Kesha. Lifted her into her arm. She could barely stand at this point. Her head spun. The taste of vomit constantly clung to her lips. She kept needing to shit.

  But she’d keep walking until she absolutely couldn’t walk anymore.

  She’d keep on going, trying to find someone, somewhere, until there was no life left in her body.

  “We’ll get through this. Me and you. We’ll get through this.”

  She put one foot in front of the other. Felt the blisters on her feet swelling up.

  Then she put another forward.

  Each step torturous.

  Every move agonising.

  She stared at the trees ahead. And it dawned on her that she was going to die before she reached one of those trees. Which one? The one a few hundred metres away? The one a few metres away? Did anyone know exactly when they were going to die, really? And what did any of it mean for Kesha?

  It didn’t matter. Not really.

  Not as long as she tried.

  Right to the very end.

  She went to make another step and she heard rustling in the trees to her left.

  She turned. Stared into the leaves. Her heart pounded, but she didn’t feel afraid. She didn’t have the energy to feel afraid. Not anymore.

  She looked at the shaking trees. Looked at where they were moving. And as she stared, she knew what was coming. Not exactly, but it was going to be something bad. A monster. A thing. An Orion.

  So she stood there and she watched. Waited to see what was going to take her, once and for all.

  Held on tight to Kesha.

  She wasn’t going to let her suffer.

  She wasn’t going to give up on her without a fight.

  “Come on then,” Chloë said. Her voice was raspy and shaky. She kept her focus on the rustling leaves. She could hear footsteps now. Definite footsteps coming towards her.

  Too small to be an Orion.

  A thing. A thing, or a monster.

  Ready to take her.

  Ready to finish her off.

  Ready to…

  Someone emerged from behind the trees.

  And when they did, Chloë didn’t have any thoughts. Not for a moment.

  She blinked. Maybe she was dreaming. Hallucinating, or whatever it was called. Because this wasn’t possible. The person she was looking at, they weren’t possible. They weren’t—

  She dropped to her knees. Stared ahead. But she didn’t let go of Kesha. She didn’t let go of her for anything.

  She could only stare at the person in front of her.

  She could only look into their eyes and say one thing.

  “Riley?”

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Ryan Casey is the author of over a dozen novels and a highly successful serial. He writes post apocalyptic horror and thrillers, but all of his works are bound by dark suspense. Across all genres, Casey's work is renowned for its rapid pacing, unforgettably complex characters, and knockout twists.

  Casey lives in the United Kingdom. He has a BA degree in English with Creative Writing from the University of Birmingham, and has been writing stories for as long as he can remember. In his spare time, he enjoys American serial television, is a slave to Pitchfork's Best New Music section, and wastes far too much of his life playing Football Manager games.

  For more information:

  @RyanCaseyBooks

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  contact@ryancaseybooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Ryan Casey

  Cover design by Cormar Creative

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published by Higher Bank Books

  Table of Contents

  Bonus Content

  Also by Ryan Casey

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen


  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Want More Dead Days?

  About the Author

  Copyright