Dead Days: The Complete Season Two Collection (44 page)

And then she realised what the cold lump against her back was.

One of the men’s bodies.

She shuffled away from it. She’d slept beside the one called Grant last night because his body had been warm, and she knew it would be warm for a bit longer. But now Grant was cold. Now she was cold. But at least it was daytime. At least she’d woken up. At least the monsters hadn’t got her in her sleep.

She listened. Kept still and listened, just in case there were any monsters in here with her. She could hear litter tapping against the road outside. Seagulls singing in the distance. But no groans. No footsteps. Nothing like that.

She turned around. Looked out of the window. Heathwaite’s Caravan Park was filled with creatures, but they were all at the top end, wandering around aimlessly after running out of fresh meat. She scanned the floor. Reached out for her gun and pulled it away from the pocket of one of the dead men. She clutched it. Clutched it, then looked at her necklace and clutched that too.

“We’re okay, Mum,” she said. “We’re still here. Still here for Christmas.”

She stood up, her head spinning a little as she did. Her throat was dry and her mouth tasted salty, like she’d drunk water from the sea. Her stomach churned. She wished she had real water. Real clean water to gulp down. To wash this sticky, hard blood off her clothes and her skin.

She crouched back down beside the men again. Maybe they had something she could eat. They seemed like the sort of men who would have lots of food and water. She rooted through their pockets, trying not to touch the wet bloody bits. She found sweet wrappers. Coins. But no water. No food.

She also found a wallet. A nice wallet like Dad used to have. She rubbed her hands against its smooth surface. It said Gucci on the bottom, which was the same as Dad’s too. She opened it up. Maybe there would be a little sweet in there, or some chewing gum. Or maybe it was just Dad who used to do that.

There wasn’t a sweet, and there wasn’t a piece of gum. There was, however, a little piece of folded paper that tumbled out towards the floor.

She looked at it as it lay there on the bloody hard ground. She picked it up and folded it out, trying not to break it into pieces. It was much bigger than she first thought, just folded into such tiny parts. It was a map. A map like she used to draw in Geography at school. She’d always liked orienteering, so maybe this was just like that. Maybe these men were just orienteers and they’d got lost.

She saw the words Morecambe, Lancaster and Silverdale on the map. There was a line drawn through them, with crosses over some of it ending at Silverdale. Then the rest of the black line went on, past Silverdale, past Lancaster, towards other places she didn’t really recognise the names of until she saw Preston. Preston! Home! The line went right through home.

And then it went a bit further. Further below Preston. Through Bolton and Wigan, where Dad used to work sometimes. Through a place called Salford, and finally ending with a big circle in Manchester.

Manchester. She’d been there before. Been there to see the Walking With Dinosaurs show in the big arena. That’s where the line ended. The little crosses, they must’ve been where the men had got to. She knew they were just past Morecambe so this place they were in must be called Silverdale. She thought she’d heard one of the caravan people mentioning Silverdale, actually.

Underneath Manchester, she noticed some more writing, this time small. She had to squint to read it, but eventually she put the words together.

Living Zone.

She stared at the big map paper. Rubbed her fingers across its smooth surface. Maybe the Living Zone was a safe place. Maybe that’s why these men were going there. Maybe that’s where she needed to go.

She folded up the map, not into quite as many parts as the men had, but still small enough so she could carry it without it blocking her view. It smelled like old books, like in the school library, which she sometimes went to when the other girls were picking on her. She folded it up, tucked it under her arm, then gripped tight hold of the gun as she stared down at the two men, still, their skin turning grey.

“Thank you,” she said. “And I’m sorry for what I did.”

She stood up, climbed over Dave‌—‌who’s bitten off ear looked a bit like a funny toy from a fair or something‌—‌and gripped hold of the gun in one hand and her necklace in the other.

“I found somewhere, Mum,” Chloë said. “Somewhere safe we can go.”

She walked down the creaky wooden steps, down through the big main area that smelled like cheesy feet, and out of the main door at the front of the building. She opened it up. Felt the cold wind brushing against her hair, her sticky skin.

“I found somewhere,” she said.

She opened up the map and pointed at Silverdale. Then, she looked at the road that led over towards the land, away from the seaside.

She folded the map up, and she walked.

Fluffy white snow finally started to fall.

Riley ran towards the bunker. It was painted green, rusty from years of wear, but it was intact. There was a large, heavy looking door in front, a tiny dirty square window on the outside. The door was closed. It didn’t look like there were any lights coming from the place, or any noises around. Maybe the place really was undiscovered. It was pretty rural round here, so before Heathwaite’s exploded with escapees, there had to be some level of privacy about the place, right?

Riley slowed down as he approached. He felt something slushy underfoot, and heard a squelch below. When he looked down at his feet, he realised what it was‌—‌a body. Not a creature body by the looks of things, either. No bite marks, not visible anyway. Just a bullet wound in the side of the head. Maggots around the greying skin of the body. Riley covered his mouth. It had to have been here a few days.

Which meant that maybe this place wasn’t so abandoned after all.

Covering his mouth with his sleeve, he took another few steps towards the bunker. He couldn’t believe a place like this‌—‌so big, so sprawling‌—‌could just go undiscovered. And with the body outside the door…‌‌No, bodies, plural. There were blackened, charred remains of others, all of them dusty and at least a few weeks old, from Riley’s recent experience. With the bodies outside the door, there had to be somebody defending this place.

He held his breath. Took another few steps towards the large steel door, which was covered with rust and weeds. He held his baseball bat tightly. Smelled the metallic door mix with the metal on the end of his baseball bat. He’d have to play this right. He’d have to be careful.

He rested his hand on the long metal handle on the front of the door. The handle was covered with dust. Dust and a faded red substance. Blood. He took another deep breath. Whatever was in here didn’t look like it was friendly. But who knew‌—‌maybe whoever was in here could’ve left weeks ago. And maybe the bodies outside the door were bad people.

But wasn’t he just a bad person too?

He held his breath. Felt his heart pounding in his chest.

Then, he lowered the creaky handle and pushed the door with all his strength.

Dust coughed up from the door as he pushed it open. There was a musty smell about the area. Stringy cobwebs stretched out and broke as the door creaked further open. The entrance area of the place was dark and unlit. There was a cracked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Riley’s footsteps echoed as they came down on the hard, unhomely floor.

“Hello?” he called. There was another door in front of him. Shit‌—‌it seemed colder in here than it did out there. If this place was unoccupied, then it was hardly an ideal home. It’d be full of rats. The place stunk of piss. But still, he moved towards the next metal door hiding in the darkness. He was here, now. He’d crossed the line. He supposed he was going to have to check it out.

As he took a few more steps on the hard ground, keeping his eyes on the door, listening beyond the echoing of his feet for the sound of something‌—‌anything, he felt something touch the left side of his head.

“Don’t move another muscle,” a voice said.

Riley froze. He froze, right there, staring ahead at the door in the darkness. Something hard was pressed against his left temple. Something solid. After what he’d seen outside‌—‌the body with the bullethole in his head‌—‌he didn’t want to take any chances.

“What‌—‌what’s going to happen‌—‌what’s going to have to happen‌—‌is‌—‌is you’re going to have to go out front and‌—‌and get on your knees. I don’t like doing this. I don’t like doing this, but I‌—‌”

“Please,” Riley said. His heart raced. His hands were sweaty and boiling. His grip on the baseball bat was loosening. “I‌—‌I’m just looking for a place to stay, that’s all. I was on my own and I was just‌—‌”

“Now don’t lie to me,” the voice said. It was slightly high-pitched. Shaky and uncertain. So too was the heavy object prodding against Riley’s temple. “I saw what you did to those people out there. You‌—‌You’re just like the others. But you‌—‌I’m being stern because I have to be. I’m telling you, you can’t take what I’ve got. It’s‌—‌this place is mine. This place is mine until someone…‌‌well, that doesn’t matter. But you’re going to drop that weapon, aren’t you? You’re going to drop that weapon and walk back outside?”

Riley noticed the questioning tone at the end of this guy’s words. The guy was scared shitless. Scared of something. He could use this. He had to. He had to, or he was going to die.

“I‌—‌I’m scared too. I just…‌‌I was at a caravan site. And then‌—‌and then something terrible happened and I was out on my own. What I did to those people…‌” Riley’s thoughts trailed. How did this person know what he’d done to the group of hooded chavs? Was he following him? “Those people were threatening to kill me. I had to do something.”

“No,” the man said. The heavy object, which Riley could only assume was a gun, shook some more. So too did the man’s voice. “You butchered them. It was dark but I‌—‌I saw what you did. I see everything in here. And I can’t trust you. So please. Please step away. Please‌—‌”

“I’ve lost so much already,” Riley said, more to himself than anyone, as his stomach sank to lower depths than ever before. “I’ve lost so much and I…‌‌I just needed somewhere. Rodrigo told me about this place and I‌—‌”

“Wait. Rodrigo?”

Riley felt the gun shaking even more. He took a few deep breaths. Gripped tighter hold of the baseball bat. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. But he had to be ready to.

“Yes. Yes. Rodrigo. Roger. He‌—‌he was a friend of mine. A friend…‌‌before the caravan site fell.”

Silence from the man. The barrel of the gun drifted further away.

“He was a good man,” Riley said, thinking of the Rodrigo he knew before he got obsessed with control and personal vendettas. “He was a good soldier. He told me about this place. Told me to come here if‌—‌if anything ever happened.”

More silence from the man. More wobbling of his gun.

“I swear to you I’ll walk away and‌—‌and find somewhere else if you let me. But I only came here because I was out of options. I only came here because I knew nowhere else to go.”

A slight clearing of the throat from the man. “Rodrigo…‌‌you knew him?”

“Yes,” Riley said. He turned his head to look at the man, but felt the barrel of the gun swiftly whack him in the temple again as he did. “I knew him. Like I say. He was a good man.”

Another pause from the man. “Put down your weapon. Please.”

“Look, I won’t do anything, I swear‌—‌”

“Put it down and we can talk.”

Riley gulped. He let the baseball bat, which felt like it had welded with his fingers, loosen in his hands, then let it tumble and hit the hard floor, echoing as it did.

“Good. Now turn to face me.”

Riley felt the gun move away from his head. His temple still pulsated, though. He turned slowly. He was half expecting this guy to just blast him in the face after dropping some false hope right in front of him.

But he didn’t.

Riley looked at the man. He was bearded. He had long, grey hair, right down to his shoulders, and wore an exceptionally clean blue t-shirt with a white vest underneath. He looked back at Riley, keeping his gun pointed at Riley’s chest. Both of them stared at one another. Stared, Riley trying to weigh this man up, the man obviously trying to do the same.

“You should’ve said you were one of Rodrigo’s earlier,” the man said.

Riley didn’t say anything to this. The man hadn’t even given any indications that he knew Rodrigo was dead. Or how he knew Rodrigo. Plus, Rodrigo hadn’t said anything about a beardy old man shacked up in this last resort bunker he knew about. But this man gave the impression that he’d been waiting for somebody. That he’d been expecting Rodrigo to
send
someone for him.

“Name?”

“Riley. Riley Jameson.” He thought about offering a hand, but it was dry with blood and burst eye gunk.

“Riley,” the man said. “I’m Alan. Spose I should give you the tour before we get going.”

“Get going?” Riley asked, as Alan turned around and pushed open a door in the wall that Riley hadn’t even seen initially. From behind it, bright light pierced through into the damp, dark entrance area.

“He didn’t tell you much, did he?” Alan said. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He opened the door even further, and when Riley’s eyes adjusted to the bright light, he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Chapter Seven

Pedro felt the cold specks on his face before he saw them, but he already knew exactly what they were without looking.

“Snow!” Josh shouted. He jumped up and down on the spot, reached his hands into the sky as the fluffy flakes fell to the road.

“Well, look at that,” Chris said, smiling as he held his big black rucksack over his shoulder. Tamara smiled but jogged after her son to make sure he didn’t run too far ahead. Barry was as quiet as ever.

“Winter’s here at last,” Pedro said. He curled his toes in his shoes. They were freezing. He’d much rather have been back at Heathwaite’s right now, with a nice beer in hand and his feet in front of the portable heater. Snow was alright as long as you weren’t stuck outside with it.