Dead Days Zombie Apocalypse Series (Season 5) Page 3

  “And you did a noble thing coming here,” Mr Fletch said. “A very admirable thing indeed.”

  “I came here to save people. But not at the expense of those who’ve made it this far.”

  Mr Fletch shook his head. Tutted. “Your intentions are noble but the means are impossible.”

  “Or you’re just so set on your own idea of how to save the world that you’re too fucking blinkered to see the truth right in front of you.” Riley’s cheeks were on fire. His voice echoed through the empty streets. “People don’t need another threat. Humanity can’t take it. The Orions, they’re … they’re genius. Batshit genius, I’ll give you that. But they’re dangerous. You can’t pretend to understand them. You can’t pretend to control them. You just can’t take that kind of risk.”

  Mr Fletch was quiet for a few seconds. He stared back at Riley, bottom lip quivering. Bloodshot marks wormed through the whites of his eyes as rain drizzled down on them.

  “I can’t pretend to control them. I don’t need to pretend a thing. Because I do control them.”

  He swiped the door.

  Lowered the handle.

  “Take a deep breath of the fresh outdoor air, Mr Jameson. I suppose this is your last, of sorts.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JORDANNA

  When Jordanna opened her eyes, she was convinced that she was finally dead.

  There was a bright light above her. The same bright light she’d seen when she was in a car accident back when she was eight. She remembered the noise of crunching metal. The sound of her mum’s scream. And the smell of petrol getting hotter, hotter …

  She’d seen the light back then, and someone took that light away.

  But right now, nobody took the light away.

  She blinked a few times. Tried to take the strain off her heavy eyes. She was in a room much like the one she’d been in when she first got here—white tiles, empty metal slabs covered with all kinds of medical equipment. She was lying on the floor, perched up against the wall.

  There was a man standing over her.

  Her body tensed. First instinct was to lunge for that medical equipment, find something to defend herself with.

  But the man held out a hand. “Wait. It’s okay. I’m—I’m not gonna hurt you. Swear I’m not.”

  Jordanna lay still on the ground. She recognised this man. The black man with the buzzcut wearing all black. The one who’d … fuck. He’d shot her when she was trying to flee the corridor. Fired at her. She’d felt pain in her neck—a dull ache that was still there.

  “Stay the fuck away from me—”

  “I had to shoot you,” he said. “But—but it was just tranquilliser.”

  “I said get the fuck—”

  “I had to shoot you so it looked like I was following procedure. But I … I’m not. I’m sick of following procedure ’round here. Sick of it for a long time.”

  He looked at Jordanna and she saw sincerity in his brown eyes. She was a good judge of character. Needed to be with the amount of twats she used to deal with in her days as a woman of the night, in her days selling drugs.

  “I’m—I’m Andy,” the guy said. “Andy Wilmslow. I’m the one who brought you here.”

  Jordanna pushed her hands into the wall and eased herself up. She didn’t respond. She just had to be ready. Ready to lunge for a weapon. Or an exit. Or anything.

  “I brought you here ’cause it’s my job to bring people in.”

  “Then you should get back to your fucking job.”

  “I’m not doing my job anymore. There’re … there’re others like me, too. Others who ain’t happy with the way Mr Fletch is runnin’ this place. Others who’ve seen enough violence to last them a lifetime. We want out.”

  Jordanna rubbed her tongue against her front teeth. They were furry, and a bitter taste that always came with passing out clung to the back of her throat.

  “Then why don’t you just walk away?” Jordanna asked.

  Andy smiled. “We could. We could do that. Perfectly capable of living outside those walls. Been there, done that.”

  “Then there’s nothing stopping you.”

  “Except responsibility,” Andy said.

  He lowered his head. Cleared his throat as he stared at the floor. The smell of disinfectant was strong around this room. So strong it made Jordanna want to heave.

  “Mr Fletch is dangerous. He’s an amazing, clever man, but he’s dangerous. And I worry what he’ll do if we just walk away from this place. I worry about what he’ll do to everybody.”

  “Then why don’t you just kill him?”

  Andy laughed. “We could. Oh, we could try. But ‘we’ are outnumbered by ‘them.’ He’s got far too many people suckin’ up to him. Far too many worshippers who’ll just do his dirty work at the click of a finger.” He looked back at the ground. “And he has my boyfriend.”

  Jordanna wasn’t sure what surprised her most: the fact that this man who was supposed to be the enemy was opening up to her or the fact that he was gay.

  “He has your boyfriend?”

  “Steve Wealth,” Andy said, looking Jordanna in her eyes again. “He’s a doctor here. A damned good doctor at that.”

  “Then why doesn’t Steve just walk away? Join up with you and the others?”

  “Because Steve wants to be here. And Mr Fletch could take Steve’s life with the push of a button.”

  Jordanna tried to wrap her head around this awkward predicament, this impossible dilemma that Andy found himself in. “So he’s bound to this place, and you’re bound to him.”

  “Precisely,” Andy said. “So I just do what I have to do. Keep my head down. To get by, y’know? But I’m not sure how much longer this is gonna go on. I dunno how much longer we’re all just gonna cave to what Mr Fletch wants. I dunno if the day’s gonna come or when it’s gonna come, but when it does, you really don’t wanna be here. Alive or dead.”

  Jordanna watched Andy stride across to the door. He peeked out. Looked left to right. She could hear his shaky breaths from the other side of the room, smell the sweat coming off him.

  “Why did you keep me alive?” Jordanna asked.

  Andy turned. Looked at her. That guilt, that sincerity, it was back on his face, back in his eyes. “There’s only so many times a man can point a gun at a survivor and fire a tranq dart into their neck. Only so many times a man can … a man can stand over a kid and tell her it’s gonna be okay when it’s not. It’s just not.”

  He looked out of the door again. Left to right. Panting heavily.

  “You’re getting out of this place?” Jordanna asked.

  Andy shook his head. “I’m not. I can’t. But you can.”

  He walked over to a locker at the side of the room. Opened it up with a key code.

  Out of it, he pulled a black pistol and a box of ammo.

  He walked over to Jordanna. Held the gun and the ammo out in front of her. “You know how to use—”

  “I made it this far.”

  “Guess that’s the answer I’m lookin’ for,” he said.

  He put the gun in Jordanna’s hand. Wrapped her fingers around it.

  “There’s a bit of ammo, not too much, but enough. Enough to get out of this place if you use it wisely. You can’t go all gung-ho though. You walk out of this room and head right and then you take the ventilation shaft at the end of the corridor by the lifts. You might see two people there on watch. If you do, you’ll have to kill them.”

  Jordanna was surprised by how okay she felt about that.

  “You take the vent down and that’ll lead you right out to the sewerage duct. Smells like shit, naturally, but it’ll take you just beside the wall. Again, there’ll be someone there. Two or three. You’ll have to—”

  “Kill them.”

  “Right.”

  Andy took his hand away. Jordanna loaded up the pistol. Just holding it gave her power, a confidence to push on. It gave her strength.

  “You’ll have to be quick. I’m
gonna walk out of here and head left. Most of the guards and the docs are down that way, so that’s where I’ll talk to them. Distract them. Okay?”

  He turned away. Grabbed the door handle.

  “Why are you doing this?” Jordanna asked.

  Andy half-smiled. “’Cause I’m sick of signing death warrants. You ready?”

  Jordanna took a few steps towards the door.

  “My … my friends. James. Riley. The people you—”

  “You have to hear me very clearly when I say there’s nothin’ you can do for them. Not a thing. And I’m so sorry about that.”

  A part of Jordanna died inside. These people weren’t just her friends. They were her family. Much as she reviled her situation, it was the group’s strength that had got her this far. The group’s collective force that had pulled her through. “What if I just—”

  Voices outside to the left.

  “We have to go,” Andy said. “I’ll go distract ’em. Lead ’em away from here. Count to thirty and then walk out of this place and don’t look back. See anyone looking at you suspicious, you—”

  “Kill them.”

  Andy nodded. “Good luck.”

  He lowered the handle.

  “You too,” Jordanna said.

  He walked out of the room and down the corridor to the left.

  Jordanna heard him speak to his colleagues and she started counting.

  Thirty, twenty-nine …

  CHAPTER SIX

  TAMARA

  Tamara Rutherford remembered feeling her son, Josh, growing inside of her way before he was developed enough to start kicking.

  She got that feeling now too. And it relaxed her. Calmed her. Because it meant Josh was okay. It meant everything was okay.

  She took a deep breath of the crisp, cool air. She could feel a breeze brushing over her skin, covering her face and her body. She was in a room of some kind, she knew that much. A room with a bright light beaming overhead. No, three bright lights. Three bright, comforting lights that told her everything was okay, that she was going to be fine, that she never had to worry about a thing.

  But there was a worry inside her.

  A worry she couldn’t place.

  Couldn’t grasp.

  She heard muffled voices above her somewhere and didn’t care enough about them to look in their direction. Because not looking at them meant she’d see her husband, see her son, see Pedro.

  Pedro …

  The thought of him sparked the worry inside her. Because there was something wrong about Pedro. He wasn’t a part of her family. He wasn’t someone her husband knew. He was different. He was someone else. He was—

  “Don’t worry about a thing, Tam,” his voice said.

  Pedro’s voice.

  Pedro’s smile.

  She saw it clear in her mind and it should’ve calmed her, but it didn’t. It worried her some more. Confused her.

  The movement in her stomach intensified …

  She tried to speak but she couldn’t. Her mouth was dry through lack of water. Her nose was like sandpaper too; like she’d been on an aeroplane and the air con had been blasting at full whack.

  “Don’t have to worry about a thing at all.”

  Pedro’s voice.

  His face smiling at her.

  Only he’d been bitten.

  Blood was pouring out of his burst eyeballs.

  Pieces of brain drooling out of his cracked skull.

  The stench of death strong in the room.

  And still, he smiled.

  She wanted to move. She wanted to get up and move. She wanted to scream and get away from here but she couldn’t because he was standing over her and smiling, walking towards her and smiling.

  “Always here for you, Tamara. Protect your Josh no matter what. Your little soldier …”

  The sound of gunfire.

  Josh walking, then Josh falling to the ground.

  Helmet hitting the road.

  Blood oozing out of it.

  Grief.

  And now Josh was standing beside her.

  Still wearing that helmet.

  Eyes bulging.

  Skin grey and bloating and blistering and crumbling away and …

  “Mummy please help me Mummy please—”

  Chunky yellow maggots drooling from his eyes. Pouring down his face like tears.

  Blood-soaked teeth.

  This time, Tamara really did scream.

  “Woah woah woah.” A voice. A voice she didn’t recognise. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re just dreaming. Just dreaming.”

  Tamara blinked and looked around through the blur of her tear-soaked eyes. Josh wasn’t there. Neither was Pedro.

  The only person with her was a man in a white coat. A doctor.

  He looked down at her, half-smile on his face. He had a grey patch at the front of his jet black hair, stethoscope wrapped around his neck.

  “You’re okay, Miss. Absolutely fine. Just dreaming. Try to relax, please. Very important that you relax.”

  Tamara frowned. “Where …” She tried to speak but her throat was dry, dry like she hadn’t used it in years. She coughed. “Where am …”

  She turned to her left and saw the handcuff around her wrist tying her to the metal slab she was on.

  Tried to move her right arm; that was cuffed too.

  As were her ankles.

  Her heart started racing. She struggled against the chains. “Let … just let me out. Let me go. Please.”

  “I told you, you need to calm down. Your body has been through a lot. We’re doing what we can to make that easy for you.”

  Tamara tried to think back but her memories were blurry, cloudy. Last thing she remembered was being on the road on the way to the BLZ. Pedro. Losing Pedro. Losing the father of her unborn child.

  And then this place.

  “Where am I?” she asked, much more assertively this time.

  The doctor half-smiled. He walked across the room, grabbed a glass of icy-looking water and eased it against Tamara’s lips. “I’m Doctor Manning. And I’m looking after you. You’re safe now. You never have to worry about a thing, not ever again.”

  Tamara wanted to spit away the water but instinct kicked in. She sipped it back, let its coldness soothe her sandy mouth, her fiery throat. And as she gulped it down and stared up at the bright light she found herself growing more relaxed, more comfortable …

  Doctor Manning took the glass away. “You’re pregnant.”

  Tamara looked down at her belly. It was covered with a white gown that she didn’t recognise as her own. “I … I guess I’m—”

  “Shall we take a look and see whether it’s a boy or a girl?”

  Tamara’s thoughts froze. She frowned. “I … How? How can—”

  Doctor Manning lifted her gown and revealed her belly. “Simple. We have some fantastic technology here at the BLZ. Technology that can reveal the gender of a child at a very early stage. All we need to do is pinpoint the exact genetic code and we can see right away. Shouldn’t be too long a process.”

  Tamara’s head spun. She still couldn’t understand what was being offered to her. “I’m … You’ve got me in cuffs.”

  “For your own safety. I know how unconvincing that may sound, but it’s completely honest.”

  “Own safety from what?”

  Doctor Manning opened his mouth. And then closed it. Changed his course of speech. “If it were up to me, we wouldn’t have you cuffed down in here. But it isn’t up to me. I’m really sorry about that. Know how weird it comes across. But it’s just procedure. That okay?”

  Tamara wanted to argue. She wanted to disagree.

  Instead, she just had to nod.

  “Okay,” Doctor Manning said. He pulled open a metal drawer at the side of where Tamara lay. Rustled around for something. “Let’s get extracting your kid’s DNA. Take a good look. Then at least you’ll know, right? Even if you can’t exactly be there for … Oh. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha
ve …”

  Tamara’s chest tightened. The soft light grew harsher. Her pulse thumped in her skull and her thoughts grew woozy. “What do … what d’you mean?”

  Doctor Manning brushed back his hair and cleared his throat. He reached into the back of the drawer, didn’t say a word in response to Tamara. Or maybe he did. Maybe he did and she just didn’t hear him. The water. Something in the water. She saw it now. Saw the reality, saw the truth. She wasn’t supposed to have woken up. They were doing something to her and she wasn’t supposed to be awake.

  “Plea … My child …”

  Doctor Manning lifted out a syringe longer than any damned syringe Tamara had seen in her entire life.

  He struggled to grip hold of it. Sweat clung to his bearded cheeks. His shaky hands fumbled.

  “You don’t have to …”

  She was so tired, drifting again, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, just relaxed …

  “The sedative in your water will ensure you don’t feel a thing,” Doctor Manning said, and Tamara just about understood him.

  “This won’t be painful. I promise you it won’t be painful. Not for you, not for your baby.”

  Tamara wanted to scream at the doctor to get his hands off her, to get that monstrous syringe away from her belly and get her out of these cuffs.

  But he lifted her gown even higher.

  Touched the middle of her belly button with the syringe.

  And he pushed the needle inside her.

  Tamara couldn’t struggle. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t scream.

  But she could feel every single millimetre of the syringe piercing through her belly.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RILEY

  Riley took a deep breath of the cool spring air.

  But it wasn’t going to be his last.

  Not a fucking chance.

  He felt the barrel of the gun pressing into his back and he knew what any slip meant. He’d be shot. Shot right through the spine, bullet piercing straight through his intestines.

  He knew it meant his death.

  But no. It couldn’t mean his death.

  “Come on, Mr Jameson,” Mr Fletch said as he stood by the open door. The door that led to Riley’s end. That led to his demise—his long overdue demise.