Infection Z (Book 4) (8 page)

“
Y
ou’re heavier
than you look, son. You owe me a new hand. And a new back. I can tell you that much.”

Hayden walked alongside the group. They’d been walking for hours. So long that, somehow, the day had reached the point of sunset again. It had been another nice day. Bright. Warm. In some ways, it felt like forever since the attack on the cattle barns this morning. In others, it didn’t seem long ago at all. Time drifted on, hard to grasp, difficult to comprehend.

Probably something to do with Hayden being amongst company. At last.

He looked to his left. Saw Bob Newton walking beside him. Bob had caught him before he fell into the cattle barn. He was old—mid-sixties, with reddish skin and perfectly white hair—but he was tough. Well built. He was exactly the guy Hayden needed there to catch him back in the barn. Exactly the fortune he required.

“I owe you my life,” Hayden said, looking ahead now, ahead at the stretching country lane, at the fields, the trees, the setting sun.

“And yet you wouldn’t give me your life, would you?”

“Hmm?”

Bob smiled. Revealed a few teeth were missing. “If you had to put yer life on the line for me. For any of us. You wouldn’t do it, would you?”

Hayden looked at the ground. He wasn’t sure what exactly to say to Bob. “I… I went back. For—”

“You went back for Miriam, yeah. But you didn’t go back for Arnold. You didn’t go back for Nick.”

“I couldn’t save them all. I would’ve, but I…”

“You chose Miriam. And hell, son. I don’t blame you. She’s a pretty girl. About your age. If I had the balls, I’d probably do the same.”

Hayden felt his cheeks heating up. He looked ahead at Miriam. Short, but standing tall as she led the group on, on towards the wall, towards whatever hid behind it. Did Bob have a point? Did saving Miriam have something to do with how attractive she was?

No. He wasn’t that shallow. He couldn’t be that shallow.”

Bob coughed. Leaned over, spluttered onto the grass.

“You okay?” Hayden asked.

Bob wiped his mouth. Nodded. His eyes were bloodshot, watery. “Damned cough. Had it since back at Salvation. Must’ve been some kind of bug goin’ round. Doesn’t surprise me. Absolute shithole.”

Hayden took a few steps ahead of Bob. Didn’t want to get too close.

The air smelled sweet, another sign of the oncoming summer. And as Hayden walked with Bob, walked with the rest of the group, he tried to picture himself last summer. Locked away in his room. Life going nowhere. Probably playing some shitty video game or other.

And now he was here.

Now he was fighting.

Just without anyone to fight for.

“Something weird happened. Back there.”

Hayden turned back to Bob. The tone of his voice had changed. His eyes were glassy. “What do you mean?”

Bob sniffed up. “Harold. He turned. But I didn’t see anyone bite him. Didn’t see a thing like that.”

“He must’ve been bitten. He was one of the dead.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Believe… believe what?”

Bob stared Hayden right in the eye for a few seconds.

Then he smiled. Shook his head. “You know what the problem with you is?”

“I thought we were talking about—”

“You can’t let go of the past.”

Hayden watched Bob walk ahead of him. The sky was red with the setting sun. They’d have to find somewhere else to rest. Somewhere else to stay for the night. He didn’t know how far they were from the wall. Didn’t know where it started.

Only that he was going along with them.

Going along with them because it’s what he had to do.

It was his only choice.

“What do you know about my past?” Bob asked.

“I know I’ve been through shit in my life. I know I’ve made mistakes. I’ve lost people. Found people. Lost ’em again. But I don’t frigging mope about the mistakes I’ve made. I don’t give up on life just cause things ain’t as rosy as they once were. I just move on. Find new people. ’Cause that’s what matters, Hayden. That’s what matters more than anything.”

Hayden hung on. Waited for him to continue.

When he didn’t, he had to ask the question. “What matters?”

Bob raised his arms. Smiled. “People. That’s what matters. Doesn’t matter whether we’re out here or behind a wall. What matters is we’re together. That we’re confident. That we fight. That we have goals, routines, ambitions.”

“Hard to have ambition in a world like this.”

Bob waved a hand. Tutted. “Oh, enough. Enough with yer negative bullcrap. It’s catching.”

He nudged Hayden in his left arm. Hayden winced.

“Sorry,” Bob said. “The needle mark. Forget how bad it stings sometimes.”

Hayden didn’t know what Bob was talking about at first.

Not until Bob rolled up his white sleeve, revealed the seeping red mark on his right arm.

“Shit. Is that from…”

“The needle back at Salvation,” Bob said, nodding. “Always a fucker at reacting to needles. Yours okay?”

Said a lot that Hayden forgot he’d even been injected. He pulled back his sleeve. Not a sign of it. Not a prick. “Yeah. Mine’s okay. But I’m sure yours will be—”

Bob started coughing again. Started spluttering. This time, his coughs were violent.

They reminded Hayden of Harold’s coughs.

Harold who turned.

Harold, who Bob claimed he hadn’t seen bitten.

But more than anything, Hayden couldn’t help but think of Little Tim back at Riversford.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Bob said. Although he looked far from it. Blood dripped out of both nostrils. His skin had turned pale. “You… you walk on. Go chat with Miriam. We’re only young once, and all that. Think you need a bit of a conversation, too. Bit of a bonding.”

“Are you sure you’ll—”

“Go on! Shoo!”

Bob waved his hand, gesturing Hayden to leave. And Hayden complied. He felt reluctant about complying. Reluctant about leaving Bob alone. He liked Bob. Seemed a nice guy. One of the few group members who actually had the time of day for him.

He walked on. Walked towards Miriam. Heart thumping. Every muscle in his body tensing for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“Just remember what’s important in life,” Bob called.

Hayden looked back.

Saw Bob smiling at him at the rear of the group. Covering his bleeding nostrils.

Hayden nodded back at him. Smiled. “People.”

“People,” Bob repeated.

Hayden turned away from Bob. Looked at the setting sun, the ever-reddening sky.

A
t the back
of the line, Bob pulled back his sleeve.

Looked at the needle wound.

A sense of dread filled his body.

A sense of dread about what he knew was happening.

Of what he’d have to do.

T
he boy was
at the window again.

Hayden stood in that corridor. Beneath him, he felt the hands of his family—of those he’d lost—reaching up, grabbing him, trying to drag him below.

He heard their groans. Heard them gasping, growling, just like the undead.

But all he focused on was the boy.

The little boy at the window.

Blood streamed down his face. Drooled from his eyes. His lip was bust. His skin was purple. Flies buzzed around him, their little wings collectively adding up to something much louder, much more intense than any other noise in this reality.

“Why do you always leave me?” the boy sobbed.

Sobbed tears of blood.

Red tears.

Hayden opened his mouth to respond but he couldn’t. He felt the vice grip around his throat. The vice grip of teeth.

Only when he looked into the eyes of the monster biting him, he realised it was Miriam.

Miriam, with her dead eyes.

Miriam, joining the rest of the dead.

No. Not Miriam. Not—

“Why do you always leave us?”

The voice was loud. Made the walls shake. And when Hayden looked back over at the boy at the window, he saw his eyes bulging.

Saw them turning blue.

Then…

The boy’s eyes burst open.

Blood splattered out of them. Sprayed all over the grey walls of this corridor.

Hayden’s family dragged him below and ripped him to—

He woke suddenly. Heart racing. Sweat rolling down his forehead even though it was cool. He took in a few deep breaths. His chest was tight. His muscles, weak.

He was okay. It was just a dream.

Just the same old fucking dream.

He closed his eyes again. Pressed his head against his legs. He couldn’t hear any sounds around him but for the creaking of the holiday cabin he was inside. They’d found the place just after dark. Derelict, abandoned. Decent shelter in the middle of some woods. One of those places he’d go on adventure holidays with his family when he was younger.

The creaking floorboards upstairs. Shifting in the breeze, or with the slightest turn of a group member.

Then, lightly, from one of the other rooms, snoring.

He raised his head. Squinted in the darkness. There was a television mounted on the wall at the other side of the room. Said a lot about how much the world had changed that he didn’t even think about trying to turn it on. Over to the left of the room, an imitation fireplace. Leaflets spread across the oak table; a high chair propped against it. He wondered who’d stayed here before the turn. Wondered whether they’d found out about it through friends or via that television.

He wondered if they’d found out at all.

There must’ve been so many people out there who didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on. Not that he did—just, being a bit younger, abstract concepts like zombie apocalypses were somewhat more believable. Just somewhat.

But all the old people who’d died. All the terrified children who’d watched their parents stumble towards them.

The feeling of ultimate betrayal when a dad wraps his teeth around his son’s neck.

Rips his flesh away.

The sense of paternal idolisation that wouldn’t die; not even then.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a bang outside.

He jolted upright. Looked around the lounge. A few other group members were in here with him. Sammy. Bradley. People he didn’t know as much as others. Still felt detached from most of them. At a distance.

They were fast asleep.

Didn’t budge.

Hayden heard something outside again.

Shuffling.

His body tensed. The curtains were partly open, a slither of moonlight seeping in. He had to stand up. He had to close them. He had to do it before whatever was out there looked inside. Before whatever was out there saw him, saw the group.

He stood, knees clicking. Crept over to the curtains. Grabbed them gently. Didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, to the house. Didn’t know whether it was human or zombie out there.

Didn’t really matter.

All that mattered was his silence.

All that mattered was…

He stopped. Hands on the curtains.

Something was out there.

Something… something was lying in the dirt.

He saw the grey hair shining in the moonlight, in the stars, and he recognised the figure right away.

Bob.

He frowned. Stepped away from the window. Bob was hurt. He’d seemed worse for wear earlier. That mark on his arm. Maybe the tetanus shot had reacted badly? He certainly looked hunched up. Like his muscles were tensed. Like his body had tightened.

He had to go out there.

Had to check how he was.

But something slowed Hayden’s departure from the house. A feeling. An ill feeling about this entire situation.

Something wasn’t right.

He walked out of the lounge, past his sleeping companions. The corridor was dark. No sign of the door being opened. Made the hairs stand on the back of his neck. What other way out of the cabin was there? And why was Bob outside in the first place?

Hayden thought back to the noise he’d heard. The thud.

Like something… dropping.

Hayden swallowed a lump in his dry throat. Maybe something happened upstairs. Maybe Bob fell. Fell out of a window…

No. That was ridiculous. Way too ridiculous.

He remembered what Bob said to him.
“Just remember what’s important in life. People.”

The air of finality when he’d said it.

Like he was saying goodbye.

Like he was giving up.

Hayden rushed towards the door of the cabin. Lowered the handle. Stepped out into the cold night breeze.

Seeing Bob lying on his side, legs twisted out of position, made Hayden just want to head back into the cabin. Pretend he hadn’t seen Bob. Wake in the morning and act as if everything was normal… until their discovery.

But he knew there was no escape.

He knew there was no walking away. Not again.

So he stepped out into the front yard of the cabin.

Walked closer to Bob, who was perfectly still.

As Hayden got closer, the moonlight shifting from behind a thin film of clouds, he saw the damage to Bob’s body. Saw the blood pooling from his skull. Saw his arms twisted in impossible angles, elbow piercing out of his skin.

He saw Bob lying there and he knew it was over. He knew he’d ended his life. For whatever reason, he’d—

Then, he heard a gasp.

He didn’t understand it. Didn’t know where it came from. Looked around. Peered into the darkness. Zombies. Zombies were here. Zombies were attacking. Zombies were—

Then he heard it again.

This time, he knew exactly where it came from.

Didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to accept it. But there was no way around it.

Bob’s neck twisted around. He looked up at Hayden, crack in his skull.

Looked at Hayden with empty eyes.

With dead eyes.

He snarled. Blood trickled down his cracked teeth. And as Hayden started to step away, back off to the house, he heard something else.

A scream.

A scream from upstairs.