Dead Days Zombie Apocalypse Series (Season 6) Read online

  DEAD DAYS: SEASON SIX

  RYAN CASEY

  CONTENTS

  Bonus Content

  DEAD DAYS: SEASON SIX

  Episode Thirty-One

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Episode Thirty-Two

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Episode Thirty-Three

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Episode Thirty-Four

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Episode Thirty-Five

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Episode Thirty-Six

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Want More Dead Days?

  About the Author

  Copyright

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  DEAD DAYS: SEASON SIX

  EPISODE THIRTY-ONE

  CHRISTENING

  (FIRST EPISODE OF SEASON SIX)

  They knew the blood moon should’ve been a sign of things to come.

  It was a solar event, apparently. Once in a lifetime thing. Used to be a twice in a lifetime thing, but since the world went to shit, very few things were twice in a lifetime anymore.

  Mass infection had done a thing or two for the life expectancy charts. And not in a positive way.

  The night was dark and cool. Especially cool for mid-August. But it made a pleasant change. It’d been a tough summer. An intense summer of rebuilding. Restructuring. Starting again. People had died. Lots of people had died.

  But all was well.

  All was okay.

  Until they saw the moon.

  It was massive. Bigger than anything they’d seen in their entire life. It hovered over the top of the wall of the Manchester Living Zone, restructured and rebuilt over many weeks and months, hanging from the sky. Brightened up the place, like it had some kind of weird sun envy.

  The city slept. The pubs that used to boom with life at this time of night were closed. Streets, empty. Market stalls tossed aside, no room for them anymore, no room for leisure, for recreation.

  Of course, there were attempts at leisure. There were still the occasional movie nights. Social events. But it wasn’t the same. Not anymore. Whereas the world before was like life—freedom—the world now was like a holiday camp. An organised tour. A fucking shitty coach trip with a bunch of old geriatrics.

  The silence was almost tangible as they walked through the street. They weren’t sure why they were outside. Not exactly. Just that they had a sense of… of meaning to be here. They were one with this place. They belonged out here.

  Something told them that.

  Something told them that being out here shivering in the middle of the night was where they belonged.

  Something told them they…

  A sour taste filled their mouth. Just a momentary shift in their consciousness. A sense of foreboding building up as the crisp night air filled their nostrils.

  They didn’t know who they were.

  Their heart pounded. They felt their muscles tightening. It was strange. A strange loss of identity. A strange sudden lack of identification with themselves. A shift in their mind. In their sense of self.

  Who were they?

  What were they doing here?

  What were they…

  They realised they were in an alleyway. An alleyway enshrouded in darkness. The moon was behind them. Still large. Still blood red.

  Just moments ago, it’d been in front of them.

  It’d been in front of…

  Their name came to them. They felt a smile creep across their face. They knew who they were. They’d… They’d had some kind of weird blackout. Now they had to get back. Get back to their home. Get to sleep.

  Forget about this.

  Forget it ever happened.

  Bury your head in the sand and…

  Their thoughts were interrupted when they saw their hands.

  They were jet black. Covered with some kind of film. Oil. Or paint. Or…

  And then they saw the trail.

  Saw the trail right in front of them.

  Leading around the alleyway.

  Into the middle of the darkness.

  Their heart fluttered. Because they knew what that trail was. Everyone knew what that trail was. Everyone who’d survived this long in the apocalypse had all seen it, all encountered it.

  Blood.

  They walked along towards the trail. A perfect straight line. Blood dripping from their hands, onto the concrete. Fresh. Yet to clot.

  Something had happened.

  Something had…

  They got a flash. A sudden flash in their mind. They couldn’t picture anything. Couldn’t place that flash. As soon as the flash filled their mind, it was gone. Forgotten.

  All they knew was that it made them feel deeply uncomfortable. Deeply ashamed. Deeply terrified.

  That flash in their mind told them not to turn that corner.

  Not to look at the end of the trail.

  Because they’d been here before. They’d been here not long ago.

  They’d watched something unfold.

  No.

  They’d done something.

  Something terrible…

  But they
kept on going. They kept on going because they had to. They had to see it. They had to know the truth. They had to know what the fuck was going on. Because something wasn’t right. Something was very fucking wrong.

  Something had happened.

  They stopped at the end of the alleyway. Stopped right where the trail of blood twisted off to the right. They waited there. Held their breath. Listened to the silence of the town. Wondered where the fuck they’d come from, how the fuck they’d got here.

  And then they shook their head.

  Turned the corner.

  When they saw what lay in the middle of the alleyway, they couldn’t quite take it in. Not straight away.

  But the more they looked at it, the more they stared at it, dread filled up inside.

  Nausea crept up their body.

  Stomach acid up their oesophagus.

  They saw what was lying on the road.

  They realised what was lying on the road.

  And regardless of how they knew it looked, regardless of the blood on their hands and their presence in the darkness, they let out a load of vomit.

  Because the memories were rich now.

  The memories were rich and strong.

  They’d done this.

  They’d caused this.

  They’d…

  They looked up at the shining blood moon and consciousness slipped away.

  WHEN THE SCREAM woke them from their sleep back in their home, they had no recollection of what’d happened. Of what they’d done. What they’d seen.

  Not yet.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “So, Cinderella. Do I really have to beg you to join me at the ball tonight?”

  Jordanna smirked. She held her gun against the openings in the metal fencing. The afternoon was warm—again. Stifling. I mean, it might’ve been August, but Jordanna couldn’t ever remember summers like this when she did have the convenience and luxury of regular shower water. Not great weather for the first MLZ ball. Some kind of bullshit anniversary marking their first year of survival.

  Even if it wasn’t even a year yet.

  “Barking up the wrong tree, Hassan. Besides. How many men want a woman covered in zombie goop?”

  She glanced at him. Looked into his brown eyes. His skin, caramel in tone. His bristly beard. He was handsome. No doubt about that. But he was also a bit of a dick.

  Five months practically holding the MLZ together, rebuilding it from scratch, assured her of that much.

  “Darling, don’t undermine yourself,” he said, also holding a gun up to the railings. “I like my women dirty.”

  Jordanna shook her head. Rolled her eyes. “Hold that thought,” she said. “Here they come.”

  She saw the undead creatures staggering in through the crack on the south side of the wall. They’d tried rebuilding this section, just like they had the rest of the wall. Tried reconstructing the gaps Mr Fletch blasted into the place. But they’d come to an agreement that a zombie clearout zone was a good thing. There were a few of them around the perimeter of the wall. A way of controlling the numbers outside the wall. Luring them towards one spot and picking them off, keeping them away from the sensitive parts of the structure. Good way of keeping their numbers low. Controlled.

  Like cattle.

  “Nothing quite brightens up a summer’s day like staring into the eyes of these ugly bastards,” Hassan said.

  Jordanna watched the rotting corpses edge towards her. The old man with the flap of skin dangling down the side of his face, his shiny, rain-washed skull on show. The kids by his side. A young boy’s neck barely clinging on. All of it just normality now. All of it just reality.

  She saw the greyness in their eyes. Heard the hunger in their snapping jaws.

  “You can’t really complain,” Jordanna said, adjusting her grip on the semi-automatic pistol. “You were part of the army that bombarded this wall.”

  Hassan chuckled. Smirked. “Touché,” he said. “Touché.”

  He looked at her. Nodded.

  Jordanna turned back to the cage.

  Pointed the pistol at the man with the flappy skin.

  Pulled the trigger.

  The sound of Jordanna’s and Hassan’s bullets splattering into the dead meat of the creatures was deafening. So much so that she had a constant ringing in her ears that just seemed to get worse every afternoon. But it was all just a part of the new world. Someone had to do the dirty work.

  And yes, before you ask, she used earplugs. Worked like shit.

  They stopped firing when a good ten, twenty creatures were down. In the distance, beyond the wall, Jordanna saw more lone stragglers wandering in the direction of the gunfire.

  “Shall we take them?” Jordanna asked.

  “Think I’ve smelled enough rot for one afternoon,” Hassan said. “Yeah, that piece of flesh on your shirt there. It really does suit you.”

  Jordanna looked down. Flicked the flesh away, onto the ground.

  Then she put down her pistol and lifted the flamethrower they’d salvaged from Jim Hall’s old armoury. “Would you like to do the honours, or shall I?”

  Hassan smirked again. Held a hand out in the direction of the bloated creatures’ bodies. “Ladies first.”

  “Reverse sexism,” Jordanna said, pointing the flamethrower to the railings. “Sounds just your thing.”

  She heard Hassan start to talk.

  Then she fired the flamethrower to drown out his voice.

  She heard the creatures’ bodies crackle. Smelled burning fill her nostrils. Felt the heat from the fire reach her, cover her. They didn’t seem to like fire recently. Avoided it like the plague, which was ironic since they were the plague. Just another quirk of theirs. Another sign of adaptation.

  Like they were preserving themselves.

  For something.

  “Dumb bastards,” Hassan said when Jordanna stopped firing the flames.

  “Sorry?”

  He nodded in the direction of the drifting creatures further beyond the wall. “If they really adapted to this new world, they’d figure out a way to walk through fire, let alone walk away from it. Dumb bastards.”

  Jordanna stared at the wandering lone creatures in the distance. Stared at them through the simmering rising heat. Something creepy about them. Something that sent a shiver up her spine seeing them standing there, watching. “That man in the grey hoodie there. He’s been wandering around that same spot for three weeks.”

  Hassan didn’t say anything in response. He just put a hand on Jordanna’s right shoulder. Squeezed it. “Come on. We’d better head back. Cinderella’s gotta get ready for her ball.”

  “Can you please stop calling me Cinderella?”

  Hassan frowned. “Who said I was calling you Cinderella? Can I not be Cinderella?”

  “Something I’d love to see.”

  “Who’s the reverse sexist now?”

  Jordanna found herself laughing as she walked away from the burning pile of creature corpses. She saw the Manchester Living Zone ahead of her from her elevated spot. Saw the low buildings. Saw the winding streets, the apartment block where Jim Hall used to reside in the distance. She saw the rest of the wall boxing them into this territory, keeping them locked away from the outside world.

  Or at least trying to.

  “We’ve done a good job,” Hassan said as if reading Jordanna’s mind. “With this place. Done a decent job.”

  “I hope so,” Jordanna said.

  “You hope so?”

  Jordanna looked at the debris from fallen buildings. At the bomb site that was the old doctor’s surgery. At the scaffolding and scrap metal papering the holes in the cracks of the wall. “I should get back, anyway.”

  She started walking beyond Hassan.

  “No time for a drink?”

  Jordanna stopped. Her heart thumped. She wanted to say yes. A part of her desperately wanted to say yes.

  She turned around. Smiled. Pointed at the splash of blood on her white shirt. “Sorry. Better
get cleaned up. For the ball. Like you say.”

  Hassan scratched the back of his neck and looked down at the ground. “You can always… get ready at mine?”

  Jordanna heard the offer. She knew what Hassan was asking. And as she opened her lips, she thought she was going to say it. Thought she was going to accept.

  And then she remembered.

  She remembered, and a weight dropped to the bottom of her stomach.

  “Sorry,” Hassan said, raising a hand. His cheeks were flushed. “I sometimes forget. How things… how things are.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s just we get on so well when we’re—”

  “We do.”

  “I… Are you sure you’re happy?”

  Are you sure you’re happy?

  It was a question nobody had asked her recently. A question nobody dared asked her. Because things had been different in the last five months. Things had changed since the attack on the MLZ. Life. People. Everything.

  She wanted to tell Hassan she wasn’t happy. That she needed something else.

  Instead, she smiled. Let go of her breath. “I’m coping.”

  As she turned away, Jordanna knew she’d intended those two words as a joke. To come off as sarcastic.

  But she knew deep down there was truth to them.

  A truth to them that weighed down on her shoulders as she walked back through the winding streets.

  As she made her way to the North East apartment complex.

  To the sixth floor.

  She held her breath again as she put a key in her door. As she turned it. Lowered the handle.

  The smell of sweat was the first thing to hit her.

  Then the smell of booze.

  And the darkness.

  She walked into her flat. Walked past the empty bottles of beer. Towards the curtains, which she dragged open, letting light into this acrid cesspit.

  When she turned around, she saw him standing by the bedroom door.

  His beard was long and thick. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles. He squinted in the light, his skin pale, vampiric. He was clearly drunk.

  Jordanna felt her throat start to wobble, the bubbling frustration of so many weeks, so many months, building to a crescendo.

  “Riley, we need to talk,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWO

  For a man who couldn’t stand the taste of beer, Riley couldn’t half knock it back.

  And puke it out again.