The Zombie Saga (Book 2): Burn The Dead (Purge) (13 page)

I
can smell bacon. Mum must be making breakfast. Is it Sunday already? Feels more
like a Monday though. Haven’t had bacon in months. Forgot how good it smells.
Even better than it tastes. Dad must have insisted on bacon, even though the
doctor told him to lay off the fatty foods. He says it’s the
good
cholesterol that’s high with him, not the bad kind. Whatever the hell that
means.

I should get up in a
minute. I’m sure Mum’s been calling me. But it’s Sunday. At least let me sleep
in a little. It’s only fair. That’s why God invented Sundays—a day to sleep off
hangovers.

Did I go out drinking
last night?

Must have. Why else would
my head be so fuzzy? Must have been a good night if I can’t remember even going
out. Those nights are always the best.

I try to pry my stinging
eyes open. I can just about make out my bedroom, even though it’s still pretty
dark in here.

Why is it so dark?

The curtains must be
closed.

I can see Mum, hovering
around by my bed. Probably trying to wake me. Fat chance with this headache,
pounding against my temples. Unless she has a glass of water and two strong
painkillers, she’s gonna have a fight on her hands.

What the hell is she
doing, just wandering around my room? Probably scrutinising the epic mess
that’s all around her feet.

What happened to that
smell of bacon? Doesn’t smell as pleasant anymore. Almost rancid, like it’s
gone off. Don’t even think Dad would eat it now. And he’ll eat
anything
.

My eyes burn as the room
comes into focus. Still exhausted, still not ready to face the day yet. Another
hour at least. Why hasn’t Mum opened the curtains yet? It’s not like her. It’s
usually the first thing she does, just to wake me by blinding me with sunlight.

But this is not my
bedroom.

And that is not my
Mother.

My entire body freezes in
horror when I see the female Nec stood in front of me.

The dead woman’s stare is
locked onto the bright streetlight, seeping in through the centre of the
curtains; her long black hair soaked through with sweat; her arms slumped
lazily against her sides.

Juliet?

Holding my breath, I can
hear my heart thrashing against my chest; so loud the Nec must be able to hear.
I slowly reach for the knife and grip the handle tightly. Turning my head as if
my neck is held in a vice, I see the kids. Both siblings are still fast asleep.

Don’t think Juliet has
seen us yet.
How the fuck did she get in here?
Did I leave the door
unlocked when I went to the bathroom?
No, I double-checked
. Moving my
head towards the door, I see that it’s hanging wide open.
Impossible.

Swallowing hard, I prod
Josh’s arm and then place my hand over his mouth. The moment his eyes open, the
second he sees his dead foster mother, I can feel my hand filling with his
muted scream. I put my index finger to the centre of my lips to shush him. Eyes
wide, he nods, so I remove my hand from his mouth. The Nec wanders aimlessly
over to the chest of drawers by the window. Reaching over Josh, I give Amelia’s
shoulder a prod to wake her, once again managing to catch her scream of horror
with my hand when she sees Juliet. I gesture for them to follow me off the bed.
Josh shakes his head, his giant eyes filled with tears, his body trembling.
Amelia takes his hand and starts to push him towards me. He resists for a
moment, but submits when the Nec lets out a low, rasping moan. Taking Josh’s
hand, I help him from the bed. Amelia crawls across the mattress and quietly
steps onto the carpet. The Nec has her back to us, facing the window. I usher
the kids out onto the landing, and then pull the key out of the door as I
follow them. Just as I’m about to close the door, to trap the Nec inside, Josh
suddenly slips past me, and races back inside the bedroom. I stop myself from
calling out to him as I watch him reach over the bed and grab his
Spider-Man
toy. The Nec spots him and darts towards the bed, diving across the quilt,
snarling. I leap out of the doorway, back into the bedroom. Josh screams when
he sees how close his foster mother is. Taking hold of his jumper, I yank him
away and drag his tiny body towards the doorway. But it’s too late. The Nec
lunges off the bed and onto his back. Her weight pulls him onto the carpet,
hauling me down with them.

“Leave him alone!” Amelia
screams when she sees her foster mother’s jaws clamp down on her brother’s
hand. Scrambling to my feet, I thrust the knife through the Nec’s left eye,
into her brain, and then drive my leather boot into the Nec’s face, forcing her
to lose her grip on Josh. Grasping his arm, I wrench him off the floor and out
onto the landing. Still with the blade planted firmly in her skull, the Nec
storms towards the doorway, so I plunge my heel into her chest, propelling her
onto her back. Just before she’s up again, I slam the door shut, and
frantically put the key into the lock. Her body crashes into the door from
inside the bedroom, almost popping out the key as I twist it.

Locked.

Amelia’s screams of panic,
Josh’s painful wailing, the wild roars and fists beating from the bedroom—it’s
all too much to handle, to take in.

“He’s been bitten!” she
yells. “He’s infected!”

“Shut up, Amelia!” I snap.
“You’re not helping!”

Josh’s sobs increase.

“We have to stop the
infection!” she yells. “We have to cut off his hand!”

“
No!
” he weeps. “
You
can’t cut my hand off!”

“Enough! You’re scaring
him.”

“What the hell are we supposed
to do then?” Amelia demands. “He’s been bitten.”

“
Please don’t cut off
my hand
,” Josh yells out, tears and snot running down his face.

“No one’s cutting off your
hand, buddy,” I tell him, taking hold of his arm and inspecting the wound.
“It’s not that deep. We can use the antiviral shot. Stop the infection before
it spreads.”

“Yes! The antiviral!”
Amelia shouts out. “Where is it?”

I reach into my vest
pocket only to find it empty. “Shit!” My stomach turns when I realise that I
already used it on Andrew.

“What’s wrong?” Amelia
asks.

“It’s gone.”

“What do you mean
it’s
gone?
”

“I had to give it to my
partner.”

“Get another one then.”

I shake my head,
struggling to think straight. “I don’t
have
another one.”

“Well what the hell are we
supposed to do now?”

I don’t have an answer.

The sweat is now dripping
profusely down my face, stinging my eyes. I wipe it away as I look down at
Josh. He has his hand clasped tightly with his other hand, blood seeping
between his fingers, his face pale. Suddenly everything seems dreamlike,
everything in tunnel vision. The Nec, Amelia’s words, the screaming, none of it
feels real, like I’m in some horrible nightmare—a nightmare that I can’t seem
to shake off.

But Amelia screaming the
name
Michael
at the top of her voice pulls me back to reality, and I’m
faced with the foster Dad, shambling towards us from the top of the stairs.

“Watch out, Josh!” I shout
as I push past him, ramming both palms into Michael’s chest. The Nec crashes
down onto the floor, his head smacking against the banister. Within a split
second, I’m standing over the dead man, stamping my boot into his mouth with
every ounce of strength I can summon. I watch his nose split, then become
nothing more than a dark patch on his face. I watch his mouth fill with blood and
broken teeth, his eyes disappear into his skull, his forehead split open, and
his brain spill out like vomit.

But he doesn’t die.

He can’t die.

He’s already dead.

But he won’t be getting
up. He won’t be hurting anyone tonight.

Not without a face…

“You
need to get another one right now!” Amelia screams at me as she runs a cloth
under the kitchen tap. “He’s infected.”

“Shut up, Amelia!” Josh
cries from the table, clutching his wounded hand. “I’m not infected! Stop
saying that!”

“Look,” I say, standing
beside Josh, trying to sound as calm as I can, “I’ll go outside to the van.
It’s parked up on The Mount. There’ll be spare antiviral bottles in the back.
In one of the compartments.”

Kneeling down in front of
Josh’s chair, Amelia gently cleans the gouge with the cloth. “Okay. You need to
go now then,” she orders me, her words shaky, desperate. “Before it’s too
late.”

I nod, and then wipe the
sweat from my forehead. Can’t quite believe that I’m actually going back
outside—back to that
hell
.

But I have to.

“What if something happens
to you?” Josh asks, his eyes filled with apprehension, his face white as a
sheet. Not sure if it’s from the shock or the infection.
Please God let it
be from the shock.
“What if you don’t make it back?”

“It won’t come to that. I
won’t let it. I’m fast. Faster than any Nec. I’ll get those bottles. And you’ll
be fine. I promise.”

“You better go now,”
Amelia says, “before it spreads.”

“Okay. I’ll go out the
back door, through the lanes. It’s darker. Less chance of being seen.”

“What about the man in the
garden?” Josh asks. “He’s still out there.”

“Don’t worry,” I reassure
him. “He can’t hurt me.”

“You don’t have a weapon,”
Amelia points outs. “You’ll be killed.”

“The spade’s still out
there, yeah? I’ll use that.” I unlock the back door. “Just keep the pressure on
the bite and I’ll be back in no time.”

“You promise?” Josh asks.
“You won’t leave us?”

I turn to him with eyes of
sincerity. “
Never.
”

“Take this with you.”
Amelia hands me a key. “It’s for the front door. Just in case. But I’ll be
waiting by the back door to let you in.”

I take the key and slip it
into my pocket. “Thanks. You’re a smart kid.”

She gives me a slight nod.
“Be careful out there.”

“I will. Keep the lights
out and keep your eyes on the garden.”

Stomach twisted with
nerves, I clutch the handle and start to pull.

“Wait!” Josh sobs. “Don’t
go!”

I release the handle and
turn to him. “I’ve got to, buddy.”

“
No
. This is all my
fault.”

“Don’t be silly,” Amelia
says, a deep scowl of confusion on her brow. “How can any of this be your
fault?”

“It was me!” he confesses,
snot and tears streaming. “
I
did it!
I
left the bedroom door
unlocked! When you were both sleeping…I went out for a pee. I was
bursting
.
I must have forgotten to lock it.” He sniffs loudly. “I’m sorry, Cath.”

“You have nothing to be
sorry for,” I reassure him. “If your foster parents could break out of the
living room, then they could have got into the bedroom. So just forget about
it. It wasn’t your fault. Okay?”

Amelia kneels beside her
brother and pulls him in for a hug. “Just go,” she says. “We’re running out of
time.” She kisses the top of his head. “Save my brother.”

“I will,” I reply, pulling
the back door open. “Just stay in the house.”

I step out into the
darkness of the garden.

I hear the door lock behind
me, and the realisation that I’m alone again hits me. The garden is cold and
silent. I can’t really recall being here; everything that happened seems
unreal, like the memory of a faded dream, a
nightmare
. I remember my
knee giving way, and then staring up at the stars.

My stomach roils when I
remember the face of the Nec, glaring down at me, ready to tear my face clean
off.

I see the spade lying on
the ground next to a bucket. When I’m within reaching distance of it, I can
clearly see that it’s
not
a bucket.

It’s a head.

I quickly pick up the
spade, unable to avoid staring at the Nec’s face, still very much conscious,
his jaws snapping at fresh air, his eyes wide with a hunger that can never be
satisfied.

Not without a body.

Body.

What the hell happened to
the body?

No time for curiosity.
I’ve got to get that antiviral—
and fast.

But what about all those
captured Necs in the back?

And the one’s from the
front of the van? What if they’re all still there?

Just suck it up, Cath.
What other choice do you have?

I check the time on my
watch. It’s 11:05 p.m.

Feels much later.

Weapon in hand, I race
along the garden, towards the lane entrance. Poking my head out, I check for
any wandering Necs. Can’t see any, but it’s dark. I listen hard, but I only
hear a slight, icy breeze in the air. I start to jog up the lane towards the
street. I should go slower, plan out every step, but there’s just no time to
spare. He doesn’t stand a chance if I’m not back soon.

What if I’m already too
late?

At the end of the lane, I
see a sign for Richmond. Street lamps dimly light the road and pavements. I
can’t see any Necs yet. Maybe it’s all over. Maybe the other Cleaners have
managed to take back Crandale. It’s been long enough.

Body hunched, I make my
way along the pavement and then duck down by a parked car. The coast seems
clear, so I bolt across the road and crouch behind another car. Still no Necs.
This
is promising
. Just up the hill I see the church. Never again will I set
foot inside one without imagining all those squirming bodies. I run up the
road, directly opposite the church, heading towards The Mount. At the foot of
the hill, I slow down to catch my breath. My knee is still sore, and the spade
is starting to get heavy.

Just up ahead, I see my
Cleaner van, the back door still hanging open. I can’t see any roaming Necs.
They must have scattered, got tired of waiting. I start to creep towards the
van, aware that a horde could come busting out of these houses at any moment.
When I’m about twenty metres away, I see a few bodies dangling out, some
squirming on the road, others with their torsos half in, half out of the van.

I check out the front of
the vehicle. It’s clear, so I return to the back doors. Spade at the ready, I
can see that each Nec seems to be still restrained—limbs tied, muzzles over
mouths. The smell hits me like a cloud of toxic gas, causing me to shield my
mouth, nose and watering eyes. I can’t quite believe that I’m back here. The
last place I thought I’d see again.

Shit! Can’t remember
which side the antivirals are stored: left compartment or right?

I’m sure it’s the left.

Using the spade, I push
the dangling Necs off the van, and their limp bodies roll onto the road. I
focus on Josh’s sweet, innocent face, as I climb up onto the van platform,
stepping on the arm of a Nec in the process. As I let go of the spade and swim
through the dead bodies, I imagine that it’s nothing more than having to fish
out a set of car keys from a muddy drain. I’m not crawling through a small army
of the living dead. It’s just a simple task, something that no one wants to do,
but has to do regardless. That’s all. Nothing more.

Yeah, keep telling
yourself that.

At the left side of the
van, I try to reach the compartment, my arm rubbing between metal and a sedated
dead woman. Most of her dress is ripped so it’s just cold flesh grazing against
my hand. The stink is almost too much to stand, so I hold my breath as I work
my fingers down. The weight of Necs is too great—I can’t seem to reach it. With
every ounce of strength in me, I pull the woman’s body towards me, and manage
to create a little more space. With just enough of a gap, I reach blindly, and
I’m able to get the compartment open. It’s only about twelve inches deep and
about the same in width, so I grab whatever the hell is in there. When I see
only a pack of antibacterial wipes and a first-aid kit, I almost scream at the
top of my lungs, in frustration, in absolute horror. But I stop myself, take a
deep breath, drop the items, and start to move over to the other side of the van.

Just as I reach the right
side, I hear a loud hiss coming from outside. I freeze, playing dead, as if I’m
nothing more than a captured Nec, and wait for the sound to disappear. But it
doesn’t, instead it lingers. I contemplate leaping out, confronting the Nec,
slicing its head off with the spade—but I don’t. It’s not worth it. Don’t know
how many there are. There could be ten of them—and weapon or not, I wouldn’t
stand a chance. The number of bodies this side of the van is much higher, with
zero room to squeeze a hand down to the compartment, let alone open it. I’ll
have to drag some bodies out of the van.

How the hell am I supposed
to do
that
discreetly?

Please, God, give me a
break!

The noise is getting
closer, as if it can smell that someone is alive in here. Need to kill it if I
have any hope of retrieving the bottles. Slowly working my body along the sea
of infected, I lock my eyes on the road, through the gap between the doors.
Still can’t see the Nec. I can feel my shoulders tighten as the fear starts to
swallow me.

Got no time to be
scared. The clock is ticking.

Reaching the opening, I
grab the spade, take in a lungful of mouldy air, and leap out onto the road.
The van door is blocking my view of the Nec so I quickly step forward to
confront it, swinging the weapon blindly in the air.

When I see him— the rotten
mess of a man—crawling on the concrete, I’m nearly sick to my stomach. Not
because of the missing legs, the lifeless, cold eyes, and the thick trail of
blood and gore being dragged along the ground. None of that matters. All I feel
is a deep sense of loss, of sadness for this poor man. Andrew was my friend.
And to see him like this twists and rips my heart in two. The sight is
unbearable. My former mentor reaches up to me, his hand still wearing the
company-issued gloves. There’s no strength in this Nec, no anger. Just a virus,
trying desperately to cling onto its host—a host that barely has enough body to
control. When he snarls at me through bloodied teeth, I don’t flinch. I don’t
feel horror.

Instead I burst out into
tears, just as I did when I shot the little boy. But this time I don’t have
Andrew to ease my suffering, to reassure me that everything’ll be okay, that
this job will get easier. Instead I’m all alone, stuck in this Godforsaken
place, with the lives of two children in my hands.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” I
sob, pointing the spade at Andrew’s half-eaten throat, “but I have no choice.”
And then I drive the sharp metal through his neck, slicing his head clean off.

Taking in deep, measured
breaths, I stop myself from screaming into the night, trying not to look at the
severed head rolling down The Mount. Instead, I focus on reaching into Andrew’s
vest pocket, and removing the antiviral case. I open it and see a bottle of
clear liquid.

Undamaged.

A warm feeling of elation
fills my stomach, rushing up to my chest, as I slip it into my pocket.

I don’t look at Andrew’s
mutilated body, still very much alive, with hands still trying to grasp my
legs. I don’t let myself. All I see is a big strong man, smoking his cigarette,
smiling at me, rolling his eyes at all those other narrow-minded, dickhead
Cleaners. Not this…
thing
.

I’m sorry I couldn’t
save you today. But you saved us. You’ve saved Josh. Even in death.

Thank you, my friend.

Running as fast as I can
down the hill, I throw thoughts of Andrew’s head to the back of my own. I can’t
let it slow me down, not when I’m so close to saving Josh. At the bottom on the
street I see the lane entrance—
it’s teeming with Necs!
There’s at least
eight limping along the pavement as if somehow patrolling my only way in.

“Shit,” I mutter to myself
as I squat down behind a parked car. I’ll have to go ‘round to the front of the
house instead. Staying low to the concrete, I sneak across the road without them
spotting me. From the top house on Marbleview, I peer down at the street.
Everything
seems
quiet enough.
Please let it stay that way
. I
sprint down, eyes darting back and forth for surprise attacks. Just a few
houses away, I hear the sound of glass smashing. I quickly duck down by another
car and wait to find out where it came from. Ahead, I see three Necs scrambling
through someone’s shattered living-room window, unaffected by the dead flesh
scraping against the razor-sharp pieces still in the frame.

My heart races even more
as another two come charging out, as if they have no further use for whatever
was in the house. Their moans are loud, causing another four Necs to stumble
out of an open front door just across from me.