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

  Then shit had gone down, and James had taken Jordanna out into these woods. Shot her in the stomach.

  Taken her baby—Riley’s baby—away from them.

  When a friend does a thing like that, it has a funny way of fucking with your trust.

  All his trust in other people died when James fired that bullet.

  Forever.

  He never liked recalling the next part, so he started whistling as he crouched down beside the man with the curly, greying hair, the one who’d been doing all the talking. Riley looked away as he sliced through the skin on his neck and he cut his flesh. He could taste the cooling blood in the air, but still he kept his focus away, kept on whistling until he’d severed the spinal cord, taken the head away.

  And then he kept on whistling as he walked over to the stakes he had surrounding this place on the road nearest the motorway, the most likely place by which people would exit. The best place for a deterrent to keep people away.

  He stuck the head of the man he’d killed on the stake.

  Then he looked at the line of the other eight people he’d propped up on these stakes, their faces in various stages of decomposition, some of them chewed at by the infected.

  For a split second, he felt the sheer horror of his actions. Of what he’d done. Of everything he’d done.

  And in a moment, it was gone.

  When he turned around to head back to the cabin, he saw Jordanna standing there and staring at him.

  Her face was pale. She looked at his hands, then up at his face. He saw the way she looked at him—like he was a monster. And he guessed he was, in a way. But he was also just a natural progression from the old days. A classic hunter protecting his territory.

  “Didn’t think you liked it out here,” Riley said.

  Jordanna shook her head. Then she turned away and stormed back to the cabin.

  Riley knew right then they were going to have one of those conversations, whether he liked it or not.

  It didn’t take Jordanna long to bring up the events earlier that day.

  It was still light out, but night was approaching. They sat at the table in the dusty old shack, some spit-roasted rabbit between them. Riley ravaged his, tucked right into it. Jordanna ate slowly, cautiously, as the juicy, charred flesh hit Riley’s lips.

  When Riley looked up, he saw Jordanna glaring at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You know exactly what.”

  Riley put down his rabbit kebab. “Sorry. Forgot you prefer the arse end.”

  “Don’t joke about this, Riley. What you did out there. What you’ve been doing out there these last two months. It’s… I don’t know what to think about it. I’m worried you’re falling into an abyss. A cold one, at that.”

  Riley could get where Jordanna was coming from. As he looked into her brown eyes, that scar above her lip, he could see the genuine concern on her face. But she didn’t have any reason to be concerned. He was just surviving. Just doing what he had to. “That coldness is fine.”

  “It’s not when it means killing people. Severing their heads. Putting them on stakes to keep people away. When did you get so cold about other people?”

  “That coldness saved your life, I think you’ll remember. And maybe if I’d been a bit fucking colder sooner, I could’ve saved our kid’s life, too.”

  Jordanna’s cheeks flushed. She put down her rabbit kebab. “One, do not bring that child into this conversation, or any conversation ever again. Two, I think you’ll remember damned well that it wasn’t your coldness that saved us, but someone else’s warmth.”

  Riley sat back, chomping down on a fatty piece of rabbit. He recalled sitting there, a dying Jordanna bleeding out in his arms. He recalled hearing the Orions get closer. Then finding the strength to get up. Fleeing them. Running away, as fast as he could.

  He recalled running until he reached an old veterinary practice. Bumping into a man called Kirk in there, who’d been surviving alone inside there with a bunch of animals ever since the world collapsed.

  Kirk wasn’t a medical expert on humans. But he’d used his knowledge and his abilities to help Jordanna. To help her miscarry. To stitch her up again.

  Kirk had helped them survive.

  But for doing that, Kirk and his animals had died.

  The Orions had found their next meal, and it was an absolute feast.

  “If you hadn’t trusted Kirk, I’d be dead. We probably both would.”

  Jordanna stood. Took the remains of her rabbit over to the waste area, tossing it inside. Then she walked over to the candle and blew it out.

  “Where you going?”

  “Bed,” she said. “Got a headache.”

  “Why don’t you stay up and—”

  “Got a headache.”

  Jordanna walked away. He knew what her problem was. She wanted to leave this place. She’d said it so many times already—she didn’t want to be stuck here forever. She thought they were going nowhere.

  But right here was safe. Right here was just the two of them, trusting one another.

  That suited Riley fine.

  “We aren’t leaving here,” he said, as Jordanna pushed the bedroom door open.

  She stopped. Stood still. “Speak for yourself.”

  Riley wanted to ask her what she meant by that. If she was planning on leaving. Because he couldn’t let her leave. He couldn’t be apart from her. She was the only reason he was still surviving in the first place.

  He considered a life outside this place. A life of putting faith in other people. A life of trusting the motives, the intentions, of others, and it terrified him.

  He stood from the table and started to head towards the bedroom for a lie down too when he heard a bang outside.

  Then, voices.

  He rushed over to the window. Peeked outside.

  “What was that?” Jordanna asked.

  Riley felt dread build in his chest.

  He tightened his grip on his knife and his gun.

  “People,” he said.

  Chapter Two

  Riley held on to his gun tightly as he looked through the window and waited for the oncoming survivors.

  The clouds suffocated the sun as daylight waned. All around, in the trees, Riley swore he saw movement. Figures drifting towards his cabin, towards Jordanna and him. He could hear the sounds of voices talking to one another; of footsteps crunching through the branches on the ground. He still couldn’t see them, not clearly. But he knew they were there. He knew they were coming.

  And he knew what he’d have to do when he finally laid eyes on them.

  The only thing he could do.

  He tightened his shaky grip on the gun even harder than he had been gripping it already. He stayed crouched down, right beneath the main downstairs window of the cabin, just peeking out. The more footsteps and voices he heard, the more the taste of sick built up in his throat. The more the smells of death surrounded him, reminding him of all the things he’d lost at the hands of other people; of all the times his world had collapsed around him, all because of other people.

  Sure, the creatures and the Orions were a threat. They were the ones who’d destabilised this world. But humans had taken way more away from him than creatures had ever managed.

  After all, humans were still the ones who ruled this world. The creatures were just a distraction. A nasty landmine in the background.

  The real danger of the creatures? Not the creatures themselves, but the conditions they’d created for other people to live out their deadly fantasies.

  He saw them, then. Saw the first member of the group step from behind the branches. A curly, dark haired man. A pale look on his narrow face and a long green trench coat. In his hand, a rifle.

  Funny thing about the end of the world. Even though guns were outlawed in Britain way before the end, it’s amazing just how many guns you discovered in the Dead Days. Most of the weapons had been used by the army, but many of those had fallen, so people had fo
und weapons and ammo to scavenge for their own purposes. Plus, there were armouries. Licensed gun stores. Way, way more firearms than you’d believe.

  Think you’re safe? Think again.

  Another person came from behind the trees. And then another, and another, and before Riley knew it, he was staring out of the cabin at fifteen people. His heart raced. Why hadn’t they seen the deterrent? The heads on the stakes weren’t easy to put together. They were supposed to be a warning. They were supposed to keep people like this away.

  So why weren’t they going away?

  “I can take them from here,” Riley said, observing that only a couple of them had guns.

  He started to ascend when he felt Jordanna’s hand on his arm. “No.”

  He looked into her chocolate brown eyes. Jordanna had a way of getting through to him like no one else ever had. She only had to look at him in a certain way for him to know whether he was doing something right or wrong.

  But what was right or wrong anymore? Riley used to think he was a good person. That he was on the good side. But now he killed people to protect himself, to protect his home. Did that make him a bad person?

  All the people he’d fought against. Mr Fletch. The groups on the road. They’d all seemed bad to him. They’d all seemed like they were the bad in the world, and he was the good. The right.

  But now he saw how it was: they were all just the heroes of their own stories. Whether wrong, whether right, they were all just trying to do right by themselves. Because there was no universal right anymore.

  Did that make Riley feel any better about killing people? Hell no. A whole lot worse.

  The world was complicated. Nobody knew whether they were good or bad, not anymore.

  You could only protect yourself.

  “They’ll come over here,” Riley said, keeping his voice low. “They’ll come inside here and they’ll want this place. For themselves.”

  Jordanna shook her head. “You don’t know that.”

  “Of course I know it. It’s what they want. It’s what everyone always wants. So… so let me do what I have to do. Before it’s too late.”

  Jordanna kept her eyes focused on Riley’s. She kept on shaking her head, that look of sadness, of humanity, so present about her. She’d been through hell. Way more hell than even Riley. And yet, she was still clinging on to herself. She was still holding on to a fragment of what she was before. She still felt love. Compassion.

  Riley felt confused.

  “Hold up. Think I saw movement over there.”

  Riley turned around and saw two of the men walking towards the cabin.

  He crouched down. Shuffled over to the door.

  “Riley—”

  “No,” he said. He stepped right opposite the door. Crouched there, pistol in hand, pointed at the door. If that door came down, he knew what he was going to do. The only thing he could do. He was going to kill them. No conversations. No questions asked. Just kill them.

  He felt his teeth start to shake as the footsteps outside got closer. He thought he saw two of them heading this way when he’d looked out the window, but now he swore he heard three, or maybe even four. Didn’t matter. Three, four, forty-four—he’d do what he had to do.

  He didn’t like doing it. He didn’t want to do it. He just had to do it.

  He heard the footsteps creak up the wooden steps towards the cabin and felt the guilt filling his body again. The guilt for what he was going to do. The guilt for what he was forced to do by this godforsaken world.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Jordanna whispered, somewhere to Riley’s right. “You can lower the gun and just tell them there’s room. Tell them they can join us.”

  Riley heard Jordanna’s words. They spoke right to his soul.

  But his head was stronger than his soul. And so too was his trigger finger.

  He heard the footsteps stop right outside the door.

  “You sure you saw someone in this place?” a man’s gruff voice asked.

  “Tony, I’m not blind.”

  “Then what d’you think we should do? Check it out?”

  “There could be weapons. Food. People.”

  It was that last word that did it. The way the guy said “people”.

  Riley didn’t want to imagine what this guy’s plan for any people he came across would be. And he wasn’t going to wait around to find out.

  He lifted his gun higher as the door handle started to turn.

  “Riley, please,” Jordanna whispered, terror and fear on her face.

  He pointed his gun. Squeezed the trigger.

  And then he heard a shout from outside.

  “Shit! Infected!”

  He heard a blast of gunfire. Heard crying and groaning, as well as the high-pitched squealing of those weird, fleshy-headed infected that seemed way faster, way more intelligent. The ones Riley and Jordanna called Hybrids.

  Just hearing those noises snapped Riley out of the moment. The door handle swung back into place. The footsteps that had got right up to the cabin door disappeared and ran outside, joining the fight and the chaos. Riley just crouched there, heart racing, gun loose in his sweaty hand, stunned by how close he’d come to doing the god-damn-awful once more.

  Jordanna held his hand then. He flinched, then let her rest it there. “Come on,” she said. “We need to help them. This is our chance to prove ourselves.”

  She pulled Riley over to the door. Opened it up.

  “I don’t think we should—”

  “We should,” Jordanna said, loading a gun of her own. She held her hand out, gestured to the door. “Open it. Do what we have to do.”

  Riley looked at the door. Listened to the chaos unfolding outside. Held his breath.

  He reached for the axe at the side of the door. Slipped it under his jacket.

  Then he turned the handle and pulled open the door.

  There were lots of infected out there. More of them than he’d first thought. All of the group, fifteen or so, were being attacked by them. Some of them were lying on their backs, stringy pieces of flesh being torn from their necks and chests. Others were being ripped apart at both sides, being torn like pulled pork, their insides spewing out in a bloody mess.

  Riley looked at the scenes and at the dwindling numbers. He stood there and watched. If he just let this happen, then they wouldn’t have more people to think about. If he just let this happen, he could be okay. Jordanna could be okay.

  “Riley!” Jordanna shouted. “Quick!”

  She fired at the infected. Fired at them, drawing attention from both the creatures and the survivors.

  Riley walked down the steps. Walked towards the conflict zone as the infected and the survivors both fought.

  He lifted his gun. Held his shaky hand. Pointed it at the fleshy head of one of the hybrids.

  Fired.

  And then he shot a normal creature. And before he knew it, there were just five survivors left. Then four. Then three. Then the infected were all down, and it was just those three still standing.

  He had three bullets left.

  Three chances to end all this.

  The two men and one woman raised their hands. They smiled, covered in blood and sweat. “You saved us. Both of you. Thank you. You—”

  Riley pulled the trigger and fired into the skull of the first man.

  “Riley, no!” Jordanna screamed.

  He moved on to the next man. Shot him. Put him out of his misery as all the images of the horrors other survivors had caused him and those he loved circled his mind.

  One bullet left.

  A woman left.

  He pointed his gun at the woman. When he pointed it at her, he saw the tears building in her angry, bloodshot eyes.

  “Do it,” she spat. “Fucking do it.”

  Riley thought she was on about him until he heard the blast of gunfire from his left. He saw bullets slam into the ground, nipping at his ankles.

  When he turned around, he saw a larger group
running towards him, some of them with guns, firing.

  All closing in.

  Chapter Three

  Cody walked away from the village called Cilburn with a familiar feeling of disappointment.

  The sun was on its way down, marking the end of another pleasant autumn day. The leaves were starting to fall from the trees, scraping their way across this abandoned village in the Lake District—another abandoned village they’d searched and found very little in. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d searched abandoned villages in the two months since joining Maryam’s group. But one thing was for sure. They always seemed to end in relative disappointment. Not for lack of supplies. Supplies were always enough to get them by.

  But through lack of people. Through lack of hope.

  Cody walked alongside the rest of the scouting team, away from the confines of the village. The village was quaint, with grey-bricked houses and little local shops, obviously closed, but many not boarded up yet, creating the illusion that this was still just a sleepy town that hadn’t been struck by the undead. If Cody focused enough, he could imagine the smells of fish and chips, the tastes of freshly-made village ice cream. He could hear the laughter of children as they rode past on their bicycles, tapping the bells. He could imagine his perfect life: village life.

  Gav led the way, and by his side, Stu, Emma, Harry. They’d been out since earlier that afternoon. Their mission was as simple as ever—get into the village, find anything that may be of use, then get out. Anything of use did not include people. Survivors to recruit. Recruitment and growth weren’t something Cody found common in Maryam’s group. It kind of happened by accident more than anything—someone helps them out on the road and ends up joining, that kind of thing.

  But even those kinds of recruitments were thin on the ground these days. And that upset Cody. It upset Cody a lot.

  He couldn’t accept that he lived in a world where people couldn’t trust one another.

  “Don’t look so fucking glum. We did alright.”

  Cody turned. Gav was by his side. He looked at him with those wide, weasel-like eyes. He had a gaunt face with yellowish skin, a look that definitely screamed unhealthiness. His hair was stringy, and even though he always seemed to get the monopoly on whatever food they found, he never put on any weight.