Only The Living (Lost Survival Series Book 1) (4 page)

I had a dream. I knew it couldn’t be real, because it showed what happened after my successful interview. Something like a video clip of myself, travelling home in safety and telling my mum all about the university I was going to attend.

She was so proud to hear that, as neither her nor my step-dad were able to go when they were young. In a way, I was doing it more for her benefit than my own. My own purpose was making others happy, starting with my family.

After the movie reel came to a close, I was dragged back into the darkness. A pitch-black world where Leo, his family and Ian had been disembowelled in the streets of Edinburgh by ravenous cannibals.

The dead outnumbered the living by hundreds. Everyone still struggled, barely clinging onto their lives. The more my companions kicked and screamed, the worse their condition became.

I would have tried to help them, but they looked so... fresh. All of that red, it looked good on them. Tasty, juicy... Just one bite, I told myself...

----

I jolted upwards, banging my head immediately on the charred, metallic remains of the train's control console. “Oh, thank God...” I whispered to myself, wiping the cold sweat from my forehead.

Massaging the lump growing out of my skull, everything around me was tilted on its side and eerily silent. That was when I finally noticed; my surroundings were very different from what I last remembered.

The rear carriage of our train lay severed across the tracks, somehow in front of the conductor’s shattered window. It must’ve flipped over from the back, twisting around the chassis of yet another upturned train as smoke billowed upwards from the wreckage.

Bits and pieces of our earlier struggle sliced through my mind, razor-sharp and painful to recall. Ian and the little girl were desperately trying to remove us from a collision course, heading straight towards a stationary train on the tracks.

We must have failed, I realised as the faint scent of raw electricity twitched my nose towards the console. Moving from one priority to another, my head whipped around to check whether any of the dead were still on-board.

Judging from the sheer lack of movement, it appeared that I was the only person still kicking on the entire train. My hiding spot was barely concealed under the last of the sun's light — it must’ve been around seven or eight o'clock.

It was that moment when I noticed my mobile phone had been subtly buzzing its usual merry tune, on a loop between the cracks of the smashed window. Someone had dug it out of my pockets, placing it there from the outside.

I'd forgotten about the many alarms I'd set last night for my big interview... This one was supposed to be telling me that it was time to get on the train and go home.
So much for that,
I half-chuckled to myself in the smouldering cockpit.

The thought of calling for help had never even occurred to me, during my frantic our escape. The longer I dwelled on that option, the more redundant it sounded. The military were beyond their capacity as it was, dialing 999 wouldn't have solved anything.

I was sure that there were countless people, family and friends that I would've contacted on that train ride, had I not been distracted by the rush of undead passengers. Pressing the phone to my ear as I attempted to call my mum, the service was obviously not available through my provider.

I didn't feel shocked, or even upset... it was exactly as I expected. It was never going to be that easy, dealing with mass riots and nation-wide panic at the same time. If I wanted to make sure that she was safe, I’d have to make my way home as swiftly as possible.

Brushing the harsh truth aside for the time being, I reopened my phone's menu only to see a curious flashing icon on top of my dashboard app. Clicking it open revealed a note that was named “FROM IAN – WAKEY WAKEY” with a frowny face.

I'd caught the message just in time too, as my weak battery was minutes away from dying. Upon reading the following lines, I was relieved to see that he must be okay somewhere.

“couldnt wake u. they were coming soz, locked door so ur safe 4 now. me & beth r gonna head up 2 the shop 4 help. follow the tracks if u want. hang in there dude.”

I guessed by 'Beth' he meant Leo's little girl, which only gave me concern about what he meant by 'help'. Was he planning on coming back, or did something else happen?

I wasted no time jumping out of the window, landing on both feet more flexibly than I would've without the adrenaline rush. Should've taken note of the exterior first, in hindsight — the rhythmic buzzing of my phone had accumulated a rather large number of music fans. Die-hard ones, by the looks of it.

Checking my pockets, I was relieved to see that Ian had left me one of the flares to defend myself with. I thought it was wise to use the item there and then, while there was still enough sunlight left to avoid attracting any more of them.

I un-cupped it and tossed the red stick in a perfect arch towards the other train wreckage. The surrounding dead seemed to fall in love with the intense light, as they immediately pushed into its radius with shallow murmurs.
They really are mindless,
I thought with a hint of melancholy as a clear path became visible overhead.

The orange sun was dropping further and further down into the skyline, casting a blood-infused shadow across the clouds. If anything, it only served to remind me that the darkness of night was fast approaching. Faster and more frantically than ever, I threw myself into the impending horde, having absolutely no clue where I was supposed to be heading next.

Various grunts and moans encapsulated my maddening sprint, from the low rustling of bushes all the way to the high fence gate that was being shaken from its very foundations. I was in awe of how many human bodies stood for no reason, even out here in the middle of nowhere, miles from the big city.

After pondering it for a while, I decided it was best not to worry about the scale. I couldn’t accept that it was all over, that this mess was unsalvageable. I wanted safety, security and hope for a better tomorrow... I wanted my home, flaws and all compared to this hellscape.

I managed to keep a steady pace in front of the ghoulish monstrosities, all of which were completely aware of my presence. I had no idea how much further I could go on for, my will outlasting those who persisted after death itself.

The faint outline of rural buildings came into view alongside the tracks, and that was when I noticed the sign for a local newsagents. I was pressed up against its brown-rusted shutters in record time, banging and screaming for help with as little dignity as possible.

Almost as though she'd been waiting on my arrival, two tiny hands lifted the shutters instantly by a couple of feet. I stopped, dropped and rolled into the little girl as she rattled the metal screen fully down. Safe.

“...Daniel? Hey, we were just about to come and look for you!” I heard Ian chuckle to himself, poking his head out of the backroom. “Did you get all your beauty sleep?”

I resisted the urge to throw my phone at his face and tell him off for not putting it on silent before leaving me to the wolves, but he'd done a good job. At the very least, Leo’s daughter Beth didn't seem too distraught in his company.

“Funny doesn't suit you, jeez... I liked it better when you were a giant scaredy-cat.” I teased him back. I couldn't see in the light, but I'm pretty sure he tossed me the bird. I chucked my middle finger at him anyway, just to be sure.

“...Owner's gone. He left all of his stock behind, and we’ll probably be stuck in here until it’s clear outside. Whaddaya think Beth, time for a sleepover?” As the child nodded and bounced on over to Ian, I couldn't help but notice how friendly they’d gotten with each other while I was out. As usual though, something came up that ruined the moment.

“Okay, but can you help me find my mummy soon? I haven’t seen her since she put me in the train driver's room... She didn't want me near those people, the ones who were acting all funny.”

Both Ian and I tensed up, and he cleared his throat with palpable guilt. “Umm... I don't know. L-Listen, you know that those funny people are... dangerous, right? You saw what happened to your daddy, and I don’t think your mum is—”

Ian stopped himself, realising that the orphaned girl was plodding away from him mid-sentence. Her tiny hands swiped an extra-large bag of strawberry sweets from a nearby shelf, raising it far above her own head.

“Can I have this for dinner?! Do you have any money, mister? I’ll pay you back!” She turned to me with widened puppy-eyes. I didn't know why, but her deflective innocence made me burn inside.

It wasn't anything that she did. There were so many hard things that she needed to know, and not just about her parents. Money had no value anymore, food was a waste of space except for the basic essentials... and every day of her short life was going to be a battle against the entire population of our country.

That lesson was for another day, though. In that moment, I’d already had enough to deal with over the past twelve hours. Breaking a motherless child’s spirit could always wait until the morning.

“...Tell you what... You just take anything you want. We'll have a big fancy meal before we all go to bed, and I'll leave the money for the cashier tomorrow morning. Okay?”

I faked a smile for her as she beamed brightly and collected a dozen more bags of sugary snacks. Not exactly useful like dehydrated food, tinned cans and bottles of water. It'll do for a brat, though.

I never expected that first night to be so peaceful. We were just three strange kids, getting to know each other as we huddled around a makeshift iron-basket fireplace. Trying to stay warm, we kept the low embers fuelled with nearby newspapers and gas from the lighters.

Our sad little group munched on crisps, drank way too many soft drinks and told funny stories about ourselves and the people we once knew. Brave faces ricocheted across from each other, trying not to show the underlying fear between the cracks.

If only for a few hours, everyone stopped trying to rationalise the impossible things we saw that day. It was best to pretend that we were camping, that the occasional rustle of litter outside was 'just the wind'. For my own sanity, I needed that to be true.

Beth wouldn’t stop talking about nonsense for most of the night, hopped up on sugar and trying to keep herself occupied. She told us everything about her school life — and I do mean
everything
— down to the seating positions of her classmates and their entire year’s homework schedule.

We also learned about the time she painted the best picture in class and got a free Mars bar. A family holiday with her mum and dad to Benidorm where she got to swim with the sea turtles. How brave she was, when she found and liberated a spider from her bedroom wall.

The only mention of the reanimated dead was when Beth brought up 'the funny people', wondering why they looked so sad. We got into an overly-heated discussion after that, about whether to call them 'funny people' or Ian's preferred 'zombies' — needless to say, Beth didn't see the joke.

“That’s not very nice. I feel really bad for them... They don’t look happy, and they always wander about like they’re lost.”

That was genuinely profound, especially coming from a little girl. I thought carefully for a moment, and explained to her that we could make them happy by setting them free; helping them to pass on, so that their souls could go wherever they needed to be.

It wasn't exactly a lie, more of a convenient detour from the truth. It was good for my conscience to believe those words as well, because the day would inevitably come when we’d learn how this plague struck our country. A day when we'd all understand how these creatures were so much harsher than simple lost souls.

Ian whistled to himself, leaning back against the cashier's counter. “...The Lost, eh? Has a nice ring to it.” We agreed that would be their official nickname; it seemed to please Beth anyway, that we were acknowledging them as normal people who had lost their way.

Ian, after a few drinks of cola not-so-discreetly mixed with vodka, began to share his theatrically-performed account of how he dealt with his high-school bullies. He got chased and prank-called every day by a group of local thugs, escalating towards one night where he was beaten and almost got stabbed outside of his home. It was a good thing that Beth thought it was just a feeble attempt to try and scare her, or else she'd have even more nightmares to worry about.

Not exactly the information I was looking for, I waited until Beth went poking around the shelves for more snacks before asking him the details. “You said that your parents kicked you out... Is that why, or did something else happen?”

His drunken-red face tore itself away as he spluttered on his drink, clearly not liking the subject. “...I just want to forget about it, for now. My dad told me last night, he wishes that they would’ve finished me off.”

I spat my cola not-so-discreetly mixed with vodka all over the shop floor, in a ridiculously-dramatic fashion. At least I managed to make Ian crack with laughter as I coughed up froth.

After our little slumber party, we were all pretty stressed from the day we'd had and decided to call it a night. Ian and I offered up my jacket and his fleece to make a comfy 'bed' for Beth on the counter. We both lay on the ground in front of her like guard dogs, staring into the shutters and hoping that they would hold for the rest of the night.

Beth tried to hide her face for our sakes, but the tearful sniffs told us how much she missed being around her parents. She was probably too young to understand what happened to them, and no one here was mature enough to put it into words.

At least she wasn’t alone… The three of us sobbed ourselves to sleep that night, some more silently than others.

----

Shortly after waking up from my half-hour sleep, I realised just how much time I’d spent staring at the metal grate as the sunlight began to filter through. Whether it was adrenaline or raw fear, the severe lack of rest didn’t seem to phase me one bit.

I filled up one of the rucksacks I'd found in the backroom with all of the provisions I could carry: bottled water, bags of fruit, tins of soup, a handful of lighters, a little more vodka... and I had to bring a ton of Beth’s strawberry sweets, of course. I had to make sure that she wasn’t watching me, as she still thought I was paying for all of this crap.

I wondered what my past self would’ve thought about all of this, before the unthinkable happened. I could never imagine looting shops, dodging military vehicles by a hair's length and de-jawing the Lost. In less than 24 hours, I’d broken enough laws to put myself in prison for life.

I barely had the time to worry about that, as Ian abruptly popped into existence behind the counter with a wide grin on his face. “Before you get any smart ideas... I call dibs!” he cackled, raising a giant cricket bat from his waist.

“What the fu— heck is that for?” I stumbled, trying not to trigger the little girl as she wandered into the owner’s bathroom.

“Pretty neat, huh? They must've used this in case anyone tried to hold up the store… Bigger than that silly little hammer, anyway.” Pretending it weighed a ton, he tossed the mallet over the counter feebly, to which I flipped him off for the second time and slipped it into my pocket.

Pausing for a second as he hopped up and over the desk, Ian hesitated before sheathing his new weapon down his back. I knew that troubled look of his, the same one he’d shown me in the university.

“Listen, I've still got that last flare from the train. We... We should give it to Beth, right? She needs to have something, in case there's an emergency.”

I nodded at the suggestion, and finished filling up my rucksack with the rest of the stolen goods.
Hell if I'm not paying for it with my life,
I thought grimly.

Once we were all set to go, the difficult part came as suddenly as I thought it would. Beth pottered up to the door, holding the flare in her tiny hand alongside a scarily-unprepared face. Ian repeatedly warned her to keep it safe, and not to use it unless she was in danger and needed our help.

“Okay, so the plan is to keep following the tracks — with any luck, we'll be able to find out where we are and our homes shouldn't be too far off. We'll swing by my place first, since it's just one block away from the train station, and... we'll see what happens from there. Does that work for everyone?”

“Wait, what about my mummy?” Beth uttered, shattering my fragile heart in its entirety. I tried to remember the crucial speech I'd been rehearsing in my mind all night. Before I could get a single word in, Ian stepped forward with the most dishonest smile I’d ever seen.

“...It's too dangerous to be heading back, especially to that wrecked train. I'll bet your mum would've followed those tracks once she got out, right? It’ll be okay… Even if we don't find her before dark, you've still got two strong lads to protect you, don't ya?”

Beth looked at both of us, then hesitantly nodded in agreement. “...Y-Yeah! My mum's really smart, she knows I'll be looking for her up ahead!!”

It was terrifying to witness, how easily Ian could lie to a child’s face about her butchered parents. Without so much as asking either him or Beth, I ripped open the metal shutters and let the morning sun shine through.