Dead Frost - 02 (29 page)

He pulled out his
.22 and began to load it.

'Shane?' Marla
said, unsure of his motives. 'Are you okay?'

He nodded, sighed,
and forced a smile. 'We're fine,' he said. 'We're all gonna be
fine.'

epilogue

The main hall of the
barracks was almost empty. Only a few lurkers remained, feeding on
what little flesh they could tear from the corpses that lay amongst
the bloodied tents and rudimentary camps that had been set up in
haste. Creatures were now moving on, trying to find a way out of the
facility. Little did they know that the barracks was secure, locked
down, and the only way of getting out was by going over the fence,
something that was beyond them. In one corner of the room there was
movement. Only a little, a twitch at first, and then a spasmodic
jolt. The pile of flesh and blood that had been wedged into that
particular corner began to move more vigorously, until it became
apparent that it was not just a heap of steaming remains; it was –
or had been – a person. It grunted through its blackened maw,
shook off the dismembered body-parts that were strewn across it, and
dragged itself forward, out of the corner.

A new lurker in an
old body. Maggie Cox was starving, and for the first time ever she
had no cravings for tobacco.

Just living,
breathing flesh.

She screeched and
pushed her hollowed-out body to its feet.

Food couldn't be
too far away.

*

From the darkness of
the store-cupboard, the sounds of the cadavers stumbling around
outside were almost impossible to bear. There was a screech,
something from the very depths of hell, and then what appeared to be
a thousand guttural growls all in unison.

Kelly Bloom gripped
tightly onto her mother's arm, terrified, her mind trying to work
through what had happened, what had driven them into the cupboard in
the first place and what kept them there now.

She knew that they
couldn't remain there, trapped in the darkness. They would be dead
before the end of the day. It was cold, so undeniably uncomfortable.
Kelly couldn't feel her fingers or toes, and it had been like that
for hours. No matter what she did, how viciously she rubbed them,
there was nothing. Her mother, who had sacrificed her sweater during
the night so that her daughter might rest more comfortably, was
remarkably still, not even trembling, not even...

Kelly couldn't see,
but she could hear, and apart from her own panicked breaths there was
no other sound.

Her mother had been
taken by the elements during the night; she was colder than the air,
colder even than the snow still falling outside.

Kelly closed her
eyes and sobbed.

She chose to stay.

*

The roof was silent,
apart from a dwindling breeze which still had the propensity to howl
whenever it could. The snowfall during the night had been
ridiculous, more than usually fell in an entire winter. At the far
side of the roof, buried beneath a white blanket apart from his head,
was Henry Colburn. He had died with his eyes open, which now stared
out over the rooftop, still searching for signs of the returning
chopper. Tiny icicles had formed on his eyebrows and ears, and just
below his nose was a thin block of ice, the result of not shaving the
previous morning. As he stared out, lifelessly, surveying the skies
for a helicopter that would never appear, the snow began to gradually
slow.

And then, as if by
magic, it stopped completely.

October 2011
– January 2012

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