The Zombie Saga (Book 2): Burn The Dead (Purge)

by Jenkins, Steven

  “But we don’t know how long we’ll be up here. It might get cold.”

  “I’ll be all right. Don’t fret.”

  She’s a stubborn little girl—I’ll give her that. “Okay, but if it gets cold—”

  “Then I’ll tell you.”

  I hate being up here. I know it’s the only place they can’t get to, but I just feel so trapped. I despise the thought of not having an escape route. I mean, what if they never stop coming? What if they quarantine the whole of Crandale—permanently? What then? We’ll starve to death. No, we’ll die of thirst before that. We’ll be able to go without food for months. Or is it weeks? And what about Josh? How long will he last without food or water? I can’t bear the idea of him withering away in front of me. And what about Amelia? Despite everything she’s capable of, everything she’s been through, she’s still just a kid.

  Oh God, please let them be all right. Don’t let them die up here.

  Shut up, Cath!

  They won’t die! Not with me watching over them. Experience or not, I’ve kept them safe this far—so I’ll be damned if I’m gonna fail now.

  Palms behind my head, I lie back on the beam. It’s wide enough to balance my weight, and it doesn’t hurt. At least not at the moment. I’m sure it’ll hurt like hell soon enough.

  22

  It’s 2:07 a.m.

  Can’t quite believe I dozed off. Never thought I could, what with everything going on. Must be drained I guess, mind and body shutting down, recharging for the next horrific thing.

  Josh is sleeping, half the wedding dress draped over his body, his head resting on Amelia’s thigh. She’s wide-awake, still sitting upright. Don’t know how she’s managed to stay like that without her back aching. Must be her age.

  I sit up on the beam and stretch my arms up high, releasing the tension in my back and shoulders. “You okay, Amelia?” I ask, softly.

  She just nods.

  “How long has he been out?” I ask.

  “A few hours”

  “Good. Let’s hope he sleeps a little longer. He needs it.”

  She nods. “Yeah.”

  I can tell she’s struggling to cope, despite her brave, hardened expression. She’s tough but not tough enough not to crack under such pressure. Not really sure how to deal with her. Should I leave her in silence? Or should I distract her with idle chitchat?

  I don’t do silence.

  “So tell me about Michael and Juliet,” I say. “What were they like?”

  She shrugs. “They were all right.”

  “Better than the last family?”

  “I suppose,” she replies, a glint of suspicion in her eyes.

  “How come?”

  “Look, Cath, I know what you’re trying to do but there’s no need. I’m not a kid. I don’t need you to take my mind off anything.”

  “But it’s good. For both of us. We could use the distraction.”

  She shakes her head, scowling. “No, we don’t. I’d rather have my mind on the situation. The last time I took my eye off the ball, my dead foster mum took a bite out of my brother.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I reassure her. “If anything, it was mine. I should have made sure that living-room was sealed off properly.”

  “With what?”

  “I don’t know. Anything. Or at least stayed downstairs, guarding it. Instead of lying on a bloody bed.”

  “None of this was your doing,” Amelia says with conviction. “How could it be? You were the one who locked Juliet in the bedroom. You were the one who got the antiviral for Josh. And if it weren’t for you then those Necs down there would have been up that ladder in a second. Josh was the one who left the bedroom door unlocked—and I was the one who let the rotten bastards into the house.”

  “Look, if it weren’t for you and your brother, I’d be another dead body, crawling around your garden. I owe you both my life. So whatever mistakes you think you’ve made tonight—I’m pretty sure we’re all even. All right?”

  Amelia falls silent.

  “How about we go back to my distracting plan,” I say with a slight smile. “You’re really beginning to put a dampener on my evening. I was in a good mood before your started bumping your gums.”

  Amelia fights off a small grin, but I see it, buried beneath the dread, the horror, the claustrophobia of the attic. “You’re crazy.”

  “And you’re a lunatic,” I say, lying back on the beam again, hands behind my head. “That’s why we get along so bloody well.”

  I close my eyes, but I can tell she’s still smiling.

  * * *

  The attic has been silent for the past few minutes, apart from the weak sound of footsteps and moans below.

  I hear a squeak. Opening my eyes, I turn to see Amelia walking across the wood to the far corner of the roof, using the high beams for balance. “What are you doing?” I whisper. “Get back here. It’s not safe to walk around.”

  “I’m looking for a way out of this attic.”

  “What are you talking about? The only way out is down through the hatch.”

  “Maybe we can break through the roof, and then crawl along the tiles.”

  “Are you mad? There’s no way through. And even if there were, where the hell would we go? We’ll be stuck on a bloody roof. We’d be worse off.”

  She starts to pull away some of the felt lining above her. “We could crawl along the roof, maybe climb down onto the neighbour’s conservatory.” She tugs hard, and a long strip comes away, dropping dust and debris all over her hair and shoulders. “And then we could drop into the garden and get the hell out of here.”

  I stand up on the beam, ready to stop her. “Amelia, come back over here. It’s a stupid idea. You’ll end up getting yourself killed.”

  “What’s a stupid idea?” Josh asks as he sits up, his eyes half-shut, still not fully awake.

  “Your sister thinks we should break through the roof and climb down the side of the house.”

  “It’s not a stupid idea,” she says. “The house is not that big, and next door’s conservatory is not that far. We could do it.”

  “Amelia, please, come back over here,” I plead. “You’re making too much noise. They’ll hear you.”

  “Who cares if they do? You said yourself that they can’t get us up here.”

  “Yes, but as long as they know someone’s up here, the longer they’re likely to hang around.”

  “Tough. I’m doing this. My house. My rules.”

  “Can I help?” Josh asks, standing up on the wedding dress.

  “Stay put, Josh,” I say. “It’s not—”

  But before my words of warning leave my lips, I watch in horror as he steps on the weak flooring between the beams. His entire body rips through the floor and disappears out of sight.

  “Oh, fucking hell!” I shout. “Joooooosh!”

  Amelia races to the gaping hole, I quickly join her, staring at the bedroom, at least three metres down. With the kitchen knife still sticking out of her eye, Juliet looks up at us, her remaining eye drawn to the sound of my voice, and then to Josh as he lies on the floor, motionless, next to the double bed, pieces of ceiling plaster and broken wood on top of him.

  Without a thought, I drop down into the hole, managing to land on the bed. As soon as my feet hit the mattress I feel my knee dislocate. I cry out in agony as I plunge off the bed, onto the carpet, just inches from Josh. In a split second Juliet is on me, blood and black tar oozing from her teeth. Grabbing her wrists, I try to push her off me. But she won’t budge. All I can see is the horrid sight of her snapping jaws as they near me. And then I see Amelia, hanging from the hole in the ceiling, about to leap down to save her brother.

  “No, Amelia!” I scream. “Stay up there! I need you to pull him up!” Every word that leaves my mouth brings Juliet closer.

  And closer.

  Amelia remains suspended for a moment, but then pulls herself back up into the attic.

  Pressing my good knee into Juli
et’s stomach, I manage to lift her slightly off. And then, with every ounce of strength left, I thrust her body to the side. With both wrists still secure, and with the use of just one leg, I crawl to my feet. The pain in my knee is excruciating, but I still drive my boot into her throat, and hold it there, pulling as hard as I can on her arms. First I hear her neck snap, then both her shoulders pop out of their sockets. I keep pressing my foot into her throat until the skin around her neck begins to split.

  I don’t know what the plan is. I know I can’t choke her. I know if her arms come off she’s still the same threat. But I can’t stop myself. I want to hurt her somehow. I don’t care that she’s already dead—she needs to suffer.

  They all need to suffer.

  Every last one of the rotten fuckers!

  Blood starts to pool around my foot. But Juliet’s eye is still very much open. “Why can’t you just die you fucking bitch?”

  The room is spinning. I think I’m going to pass out. Need to stop.

  No. Not until she’s nothing more than a stain!

  Need to keep him safe.

  The sound of deathly shrieks and heavy fists beating on the bedroom door pulls me out of my frenzy.

  “Josh!” I hear Amelia scream. “Wake up! Please! You have to get up.”

  I see movement on the floor. It’s Josh; he’s stirring. “Come on, Josh!” I hiss, knowing full well that my voice will bring about even more attention from the landing. “Wake up!”

  He turns to me. There’s a large gash on his forehead and blood is running down his face. His eyes open and straightaway he sees Juliet, her throat and jaw crushed beyond recognition. Screaming in terror, he scrambles away from her, his back against the bedside cabinet.

  “Josh!” Amelia cries from above. “Get on the bed and I’ll pull you up!”

  Clearly disorientated, he takes in the events of the room—his restrained foster mother, the hole in the ceiling, and the bedroom door about to come off its hinges.

  “Move, Josh!” I yell. “They’re coming! Get on the fucking bed!”

  Too terrified even to cry, he leaps onto the mattress and reaches up to his sister’s arm. But it’s too far, his fingers are about a foot away.

  “Jump!” she yells. “Come on!”

  Fragments of broken wood fly off the doorframe. The lock is seconds from shattering.

  Josh jumps, but merely brushes his fingers along her open palm. He starts to panic, tears of frustration—of horror as more wood sprays onto the carpet.

  I let go of Juliet’s arms, and I pull my boot away from the mush where her neck used to be. But she’s still very much alive, snapping her broken jaw with what remains of her teeth. Need to hold the door shut. I try to move but she grabs my boot with both hands. My legs give way. I cry out in pain, but I still keep crawling, using the bed to steer me.

  “Come on, Josh!” Amelia shouts. “You’re nearly there!”

  Each leap brings him closer and closer to his sister’s grasp.

  I can’t shake my leg from Juliet’s vice-like hold, so I drag my body along the carpet towards the door, towing her behind me.

  “I can’t do it!” Josh cries, failing yet another attempt. “It’s too high!”

  I reach back and start to pry Juliet’s fingers from me, but her nails have clamped on too tight.

  “They’re almost in!” Josh bellows as several Nec arms worm their way through the small gap between the door and the frame. “They’re gonna get me!”

  “No they’re not, bro!” his sister shouts. “Forget about them! They’re just dumb cows in a field! Remember! They’re nothing! Focus on me!”

  “I can’t do it!”

  “Yes, you can! You’re my brother! And you can do anything! Foster kids never give up! And we’re not scared of no one!”

  He tries again, managing to grab a finger, but he slips back down immediately.

  I quickly untie the lace of my boot and wrench my foot out, freeing me from Juliet’s clutches.

  The lock flies off and the door bursts open.

  “Oh, shit!” Amelia cries. “They’re in!”

  A stampede of Necs storms the bedroom, fighting to squeeze through the doorway. I crawl onto the bed, moments before they reach it. Somehow I stand, taking Josh by the waist and picking his tiny body up just as a Nec bites into my exposed foot. I don’t feel the pain as its teeth rip through my sock, sinking into my flesh, or the despair as another rotter bites into my neck, spraying blood over the quilt. All I feel is a sense of relief as I watch Amelia pull her brother up into the attic, safe, away from the monsters.

  Away from me.

  Unable to stand any longer, I fall backwards with the heft of Necs all around me. The back of my head slams onto the floor, but I stay fixated on the horde of creatures, scrambling to take another chunk out of me. But I won’t let them eat. They can infect me; they can even have a taste. But that’s all. I’m nobody’s food.

  If you want this free dinner, you’re gonna have to work for it!

  Using the bed, I pull myself back onto my feet. I push my thumbs into the eye sockets of the first Nec, blinding it. Throwing a hard punch, I demolish the jaw of another. And another. I can no longer hear their roars, their cries of hunger. As I limp and fight through the dead, I catch the odd glimpse of Amelia staring down in horror from the ceiling, screaming something inaudible, with her sobbing brother at her side. I’m out of the bedroom, onto the landing. I have nothing left to throw at them. My arms are numb; my knee has stopped functioning. I don’t feel anything when I collapse, headfirst down the stairs, taking several Necs with me.

  At the bottom, all I can focus on is the attic hatch. Please let them be okay.

  Amelia, never leave your brother’s side. And never change. You don’t deserve any of this.

  Josh, stay innocent. Don’t let this nightmare change you.

  I wish I had time to say goodbye, but I don’t.

  There’s no time for anything. I’ve done everything I can. Help will come for them.

  But not for me.

  My shift is over.

  Epilogue

  I know I’m limping severely, but the pain in my knee has vanished. I don’t remember how I made it outside, but I did. I look down at my foot—it’s bleeding heavily. I pat the side of my neck. More blood. But again—I don’t feel any pain…

  * * *

  As I drag my leg along the pavement, past the parked cars, I see Necs walking beside me. Women, children, men, almost a perfect blend of humanity, lost to this horrifying disease in the space of a day. Each one has no interest in my flesh…

  * * *

  I can no longer remember where I’ve been. I still know my name. It’s Catherine. Catherine Woods. And I remember the faces of my friends, my family. But that’s it. I have no idea where I am or what the hell I’m doing here…

  * * *

  The stench of decay is all around me, getting thicker, as if my sense of smell is getting stronger. The pack of Necs that walk beside is growing with every blackout, with every…

  * * *

  I see lights up ahead. And people. A wall of people. With guns. The Necs start to sprint towards them. I follow, but without the speed. Shot after shot hits the dead, dropping them to the concrete. Some of them have made it to the people, sinking their teeth into their exposed skin. There’s blood.

  Lots of blood…

  * * *

  I’m alone. I’ve wandered into a strange garden. Don’t know what happened to the other Necs. Most of them scattered. My thoughts are slipping away by the second. But I still know my name. It’s Catherine. Catherine Woods….

  * * *

  I’m standing by a large window, trying to see inside a house. Suddenly a little girl looks back at me through the glass. She has long black hair to her shoulders. She’s afraid of me…

  * * *

  I see a man. Her father perhaps? He’s afraid of me. I no longer see the darkness of the garden. All I see is red. I’m hungry. I chase the man t
o the back door of the house…

  * * *

  The little girl—she’s terrified. She’s holding something. A weapon. It looks like a golf putt. I don’t feel the pain as she drives it into my face, splitting my nose open. All I see is flesh. I try to bite down on the man’s arm but he fights back. I’m so close.

  So hungry…

  * * *

  Something sharp pierces the back of my skull. A bullet? I don’t feel the pain. I barely feel anything. The red has vanished. The night has returned. But not for long. As I crash onto the ground, I stare up at the stars…

  * * *

  I hear the voice of the little girl. “I know what I want to be when I grow up,” she tells her father…

  * * *

  My eyes shut and the darkness comes. But I still know my name. It’s…

  Coming Soon

  From Steven Jenkins

  BURN THE DEAD: RIOT

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  About the Author

  Steven Jenkins was born in the small Welsh town of Llanelli, where he began writing stories at the age of eight, inspired by '80s horror movies and novels by Richard Matheson.

  During Steven's teenage years, he became a great lover of writing dark and twisted poems—six of which gained him publications with Poetry Now, Brownstone Books, and Strong Words.

  Over the next few years, as well as becoming a husband and father, Steven spent his free time writing short stories, achieving further publication with Dark Moon Digest. His terrifying tales of the afterlife and zombies gained him positive reviews, particularly his story, Burning Ambition, which also came runner up in a Five-Stop-Story contest. And in 2014 his debut novel, Fourteen Days was published by Barking Rain Press.