Dead Days Zombie Apocalypse Series (Season 5) Read online

It made Riley churn up inside hearing Jordanna speak with such terror, such fear. Such a will to live. A privilege she was blessed with.

  But not for long.

  Not unless they acted.

  “You run on,” Riley said. “Run back to the cottage.”

  He tried to pull his hand away but Jordanna gripped on. “You can’t just—”

  “I’ve got it,” he said.

  “Riley this is suicide—”

  “I’m dead already,” Riley shouted.

  Then he looked Jordanna in her eyes.

  He saw her acknowledgement. Her realisation.

  Her acceptance that Riley had to face this creature.

  He had to face it head on.

  Look it in the eye and—

  “Hey!”

  The voice came from behind. Somewhere in the woods. Riley didn’t recognise it. It was disorienting. Unreal, almost.

  He still didn’t want to turn because he knew the Orion would be there watching him, hunting him, chasing him.

  “Did—did you hear that?” Jordanna asked.

  “Hey!”

  The voice. Again. Echoing through the woods. Cutting through the trees. Splitting through the atmosphere like someone chopping wood.

  “Riley I don’t think it’s—”

  “You need to keep moving.”

  “I think it’s gone,” Jordanna said.

  And then Riley felt it.

  Felt the change in the air.

  The silence.

  The stench of death, gone.

  His heart pounded. His mind begged him not to turn around, not to look.

  The Orion wouldn’t stop hunting.

  It wouldn’t just turn around.

  It wouldn’t ...

  He turned and he saw it. Saw the open woods. Leaves rustling in the breeze. The emptiness; disorienting emptiness, but the sense that something was there. Something invisible, like a ghost, a spectre in the unknown, waiting for a moment to pounce.

  “We ... we should go,” Jordanna said. “Before it—”

  “Right,” Riley said.

  He turned around.

  Jogged back towards the cottage, his knees as weak as jelly, his heart still racing.

  They reached the door and Riley turned again. Thought he saw movement in the leaves. Twitching.

  But no.

  Nothing.

  The Orion, gone.

  The mystery voice, nowhere in sight.

  “We ... we need to leave this place,” Riley said, pushing open the door and barely catching his breath. “Head on to Manchester.”

  “I thought we were staying here a minute ago.”

  “That was before we got chased down by a fucking Orion,” he said.

  He walked down the hallway. Into the mouldy, damp confines of the house. Towards the smell of burning in the kitchen. And without a second rabbit, a second round of breakfast.

  “We need to get everyone together and we need to get on the road as soon as possible,” Riley said, pushing open the kitchen door. Still seemed a bit morbid in there. The fact that Jordanna had been attacked in there. Andy had disappeared from there. And the man. The man with the long hair. He’d stood over by the door. Stared in. Watched.

  Just another reason to get out of this place.

  Just another reason to ...

  When he opened the kitchen door, he saw Tamara and Doctor Ottoman sitting at the table. Ivan was over by the door. Chloe by the sink speaking with James.

  Tamara was crying.

  “What’s ...” Riley started.

  “We need to get out of here,” Jordanna said. “There’s—there’s an Orion out there. And if we don’t get out of here fast then we’ll all—”

  “Riley,” Tamara said.

  Riley looked at Tamara. Looked at the tears in her eyes, the way she was staring at him. He couldn’t figure out the look on her face. Sadness, relief. Maybe a combination of both.

  Doctor Ottoman was staring at the table.

  Rubbing his hands together.

  His lips quivering.

  His eyes doing everything but look at Riley.

  “What’s gone on here?” Riley said.

  “You tell him,” Tamara said, looking across the table at Doctor Ottoman. Venom in her voice. “Tell him exactly what you told me.”

  Doctor Ottoman shook his head. “He—he won’t like it. He won’t understand.”

  “Understand what?” Riley shouted.

  Tamara shook her head. Sighed.

  Then she turned and looked up at Riley.

  “Riley, there’s something you need to know. About the infection inside you. About ... about this cure.”

  Riley thought he heard something outside.

  Thought he saw a shadow through the kitchen window.

  But he needed to know what Tamara was talking about.

  He needed to understand.

  “What about it—”

  “Guys there’s somethin’ outside,” James said.

  “What about it?” Riley repeated.

  Tamara shook her head. “The ... the cure. The cure that was inside you. The cure that was ... was degrading. The whole reason Jim Hall sent you to Birmingham. The whole reason we followed you.”

  “Guys, seriously,” James said, rushing down the corridor, checking the front door. “We need to get the hell away from here.”

  “It’s bullshit,” Tamara said.

  “What’s ... What’s bullshit?”

  Tamara looked at Doctor Ottoman then back at Riley. “All of it. You never died. You were vaccinated from the first wave of the infection just like many others. You battled through. But you weren’t cured. Which means you never had a cure inside you. So that cure was never degrading. Which means ...”

  Tamara didn’t have to say anything else because Riley understood.

  He understood exactly what Tamara was saying.

  What she was getting at.

  “But—but Pedro. The people who died. They—”

  “They died for nothing,” Doctor Ottoman said.

  The words hit Riley square in the gut. Made him sick. Nauseous. Made his skin tingle. The rest of the room and the cottage seemed to blur out, fade away in the background, and all that mattered was the words. The news. The realisation.

  “I’m not dying,” Riley said.

  “No,” Doctor Ottoman said. “No you’re not.”

  “But ... but Jim Hall sent me to the BLZ to—”

  “I don’t know why he sent you to the BLZ. But I do know he wasn’t honest with you. Wasn’t honest with any of you. Mr Fletch and Jim Hall, you might think they’re different because you’ve been on one side. You’ve seen things from one perspective. But never underestimate their mutual desire to succeed over the other. Never underestimate their power to manipulate. Like chess pieces—”

  Doctor Ottoman stopped talking.

  He stopped because of the bang. The thump at the front door.

  Riley turned, still in a trance.

  Looked over at James, who stood right by the door, right at the end of the corridor.

  Saw the dark outline of the Orion peeking through the frosted glass, right outside the door.

  “It’s here,” James said.

  EPISODE TWENTY-NINE

  AND NOW WE LIE

  (FIFTH EPISODE OF SEASON FIVE)

  Fulwood Barracks, November 2013

  Ivan tightened his shaking hand around the knife handle and stared into the bathroom mirror.

  He barely recognised himself anymore. His cheeks were covered in hair. There was colour to his skin, a chubbiness about him. You read about the end of the world and you think it’s going to be all gaunt faces and hunger-bloated bellies. But it isn’t. Not when you have a good supply of frozen food. Not when you have wine and beer.

  You expect the end of the world to be grim. To be morbid.

  Not when you have company.

  Only that company had to end sometime.

  One day, someone had to make a
tough decision. A decision to benefit the group as a whole.

  And today, as Major of the group of troops at the Fulwood Barracks, Ivan had to be the one to make that decision.

  He heard the laughter outside the bathroom. The drunken slurs of cadets finishing their booze for the night, returning to their quarters. And as he stood there, knife in hand, Ivan felt desperately sad for them. Because they didn’t deserve this. They didn’t deserve any of this.

  But just like the antelope didn’t deserve to be hunted down by the lion, just like rabbits didn’t deserve to be central to a tug of war between a pair of vicious dogs, things didn’t always work out fairly.

  They had to work out rationally.

  Ivan put the knife on the side of the sink. Got the tap running—the tap that was still running thanks to their generators, generators powering the barracks, providing warmth, shelter, security. He splashed the water over his face. Tasted sick at the back of his throat. Knew that if he wasn’t careful he’d end up throwing it all up, backing out of what was necessary, what he had to do.

  No. He couldn’t back out. There was no backing out. Not anymore.

  He had to be the leader these troops needed.

  Not the leader they wanted.

  He stopped the tap. Grabbed the knife. Took a few deep breaths to steady the nerves—nerves that Mary always said gave him the “shaky knees.” Something he’d never noticed about himself, but something she picked up on right away. He missed her. Missed her and the kids like mad. But defending the barracks, that was his duty. And sure, he could bring them over here eventually. Bring them over here to live and grow up, lead as normal a life as they could.

  But just … just not yet.

  Not with the things he had to do.

  Not with the things that needed to be done.

  He turned around and he saw Colonel Wilkinson standing by the bathroom door and staring at him.

  Colonel Wilkinson didn’t say anything at first. Wasn’t a man of many words at the best of times. He had hair that merged between black and grey right down the middle, acne-ridden skin and deep-set eyes that Ivan swore could stare into his soul—if indeed he had a soul at all. He always wore his full army uniform, right down to his medals of honour for stints in Iraq, Afghanistan, even smaller training missions. So many medals that he walked with a hunch; a hunch that had unlovingly earned him the nickname “Colonel Dickyback” amongst many of the cadets.

  “Ivan,” he said, looking at Ivan in that ever suspicious way. The way that told Ivan he knew he was onto him. That he’d always be watching him. That he knew they both had different ideas of how to run this place, different means and methods and approaches towards the end of the world. Dickyback wanted to make the most of what they had. Ivan wanted to conserve. Conserve, stretch out the supplies as long as possible, then if need be move on to a … a different food source.

  If need be, of course.

  Ivan hid the knife behind his back.

  Stood upright. Nodded at Dickyback. “Colonel.”

  Dickyback just stared back at him.

  Stared in that knowing way.

  He couldn’t know. Surely he couldn’t know. Ivan had been so careful. So selective. He’d told just enough troops he trusted. Just enough willing to believe in him.

  Enough to deal with as many competitors as possible.

  The rest of the troops would just fall in line naturally.

  Like Lemmings.

  “Didn’t see you at dinner tonight,” Dickyback said, walking over to the steel urinal. The sound of his flies unzipping echoed through the silent bathroom. Time stretched on as he lined up, waited a few seconds, then started pissing.

  “Wasn’t hungry,” Ivan said.

  His palms sweated around the knife handle.

  He held it tight to stop the shaking, ease the nerves.

  The smell of warm piss filled the bathroom.

  “Unlike you,” Dickyback chuckled, staring straight ahead. “Starting to think maybe you’re up to something.

  Ivan let that hang. Didn’t like the hint. Too close to reality. Too close to the truth.

  He started towards the door. He could deal with Dickyback later. Explain things to him when they were done. Give him the opportunity to stand beside him and—

  “I know you’re planning something,” Dickyback said.

  He turned around this time. Still pissing. Eyelids twitching.

  “I don’t—”

  “Pedro and the others,” he said, turning back to steady his aim. “I heard them. Heard them talking over dinner. Whispering. And there was just … just something unusual about everything. The typical camaraderie was gone. There was—was a distance between the troops. Like they were split into groups. Like they were—”

  He didn’t finish what he was saying.

  Ivan was already behind him.

  Already holding onto Dickyback’s sweaty forehead.

  Already slicing the knife across his throat.

  Painting the dirty white tiles of the bathroom wall red.

  He held on to Colonel Dickyback as he gargled, convoluted. And although he shook and although blood splattered everywhere, although he squealed like a tortured pig, it was Colonel Dickyback’s nob that caught Ivan’s eye, disturbed him the most.

  Still pissing.

  Still pissing all over the urinal.

  Diluting his own blood.

  Emptying his bowels one final time.

  There really was no dignity in death.

  After a few seconds, maybe longer, Colonel Dickyback went still. He was still spurting blood, his eyes growing progressively bloodshot, but his body was still. Paralysed. Ready for the final fight before death inevitably swooped in and carried him away to eternal nothingness.

  Ivan let go of him. Let him fall to the floor.

  Still pissing.

  Still gargling blood.

  He tried not to look Dickyback in his eyes as he wiped the knife on his shirt, as he turned away.

  But he couldn’t help himself.

  Couldn’t help himself staring into the desperate, begging eyes of his superior.

  The man who’d differed in opinion to him.

  A decent, respectable enough man, but not a man who was going to take the barracks forward.

  Not a man who was fit to survive in this new world.

  “I tried,” Ivan said.

  And then he turned away.

  Turned away from the Dickyback as he lay in his own blood, trousers around his thighs.

  I tried.

  He walked out of the bathroom shaking, the taste of blood on his lips, and he wondered whether he’d tried hard enough.

  Whether he could’ve done things differently.

  Whether he could ever look Mary, look his children in their eyes again knowing that his palms would always be stained with the mark of ultimate betrayal.

  Friendly fire.

  He stepped out of the bathroom. Stepped into the dark corridor that led through to the dorms.

  The dorms of the cadets who had to die.

  Just to prove a point.

  Just to prove Ivan meant business.

  Or maybe because they’d stood against his values. Because they had another idea of how to move forward.

  Because they weren’t survivors.

  He looked down the corridor and saw Pedro standing outside a dorm.

  Saw the rifle in his hand.

  Saw the other troops behind Pedro, then the other troops to his right.

  Hands on the dorm handles.

  Ready to step in.

  Ready to fire.

  And for a moment, Ivan wanted to walk away. To go back to the nights of partying and drinking and pure indulgence.

  To nullifying his senses at the end of the world.

  Then he caught a glimpse of the blood on his hands and he knew there was no going back.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  Only forward.

  He looked right over at Pedro.
Loyal Pedro. Pedro who trusted him. Pedro who he trusted in turn.

  He nodded.

  And within the space of five seconds, the sound of gunfire, of throats slicing, of screams and cries and begging all lit up the night in a chorus unlike no other.

  The music of the new world.

  The beginning of a new beginning.

  CHAPTER ONE

  RILEY

  Riley’s entire body froze when he saw the outline of the Orion right through the frosted glass of the cottage door.

  James was standing right by it. Standing completely still. Everyone else was silent. Quiet. Waiting for the next move. Praying the Orion would just pass by. Give up on them. Move on.

  But nothing was ever that simple, not in this world.

  A fact confirmed when the door rattled on its hinges.

  Made everyone jump. Gasp.

  “We … we need to leave—”

  “If I move it’ll see me,” James said.

  “Think it’s seen you anyway,” Riley said. “We—we need to go out the back as quickly as—”

  Another bang at the front door.

  The nervous smell of sweat lifting through the cottage kitchen.

  Sweat.

  Damp.

  Death.

  “James, you just need to run for it,” Jordanna said.

  James shook his head. “I … I’m not sure I can.”

  “You can because you have to,” Tamara cut in. Her voice was shaky. Louder than the rest. “James, please. Please don’t do this to us. We need to leave. Right now. Please.”

  For a moment, staring down the corridor at James, Riley saw the inevitable form in front of him.

  The inevitable turn of events that always unfolded in this new world.

  The Orion would barge the door down.

  James would be torn to shreds, emaciated.

  Another loss would hang over the group.

  Cling to their conscience.

  No. Cling to Riley’s conscience.

  Because the journey to the BLZ was pointless. The deaths were pointless.

  He’d been sent on a wild goose chase by Jim Hall for reasons he still couldn’t figure out, couldn’t understand.

  And he didn’t have time to.

  Not when the next strike cracked against the door.

  Sent a cloud of dust into the hallway.

  The Orion’s jet black skin visible through the break in the wood.

  “James, please,” Tamara said. Jordanna and Ivan were by the back door. Cool air drifted in. They had to go. They had to run. To get away while they still could.