The Zombie Saga (Book 2): Burn The Dead (Purge) (11 page)

“Can
you hear me? You need to get up. I think she’s dead…”

* * *

My head is a spinning mess
of thoughts. Can’t focus on anything for more than a moment. I try to force my
eyes open, but it gives me a headache. I can smell something. The scent of
nostalgia.

It’s freshly-cut grass.

Feels so…familiar, like
the first day of spring, or camping out with friends.

Where the hell am I?

“You have to wake up!”
Andrew screams. He sounds pissed off with me. Haven’t seen him angry yet.
What’s the problem? Am I late for work? Slept through my alarm clock? Wouldn’t
be the first time.

“Come on, Josh! You have
to get her inside!”

Who the hell is Josh?

Someone from the
restaurant perhaps? One of the new guys? Can’t recall, but it’s tough keeping
up with all those new faces. They all start to look the same.

“Are you bit?”

Bit? What’s that suppose
to mean?

What the hell would have
bitten me? The neighbours Rottweiler? No, he’s dead. They put him down last
year.

“Get up!”

Yes, I can hear you. Stop
going on at me. I’ll be up in a—

My eyes open and I’m in a
garden. On the cold ground. It’s night time but everything is lit up by a
bright light. There’s a young girl, thirteen maybe, standing just ahead of me,
a spade in her hand. She’s got the sharp end pressed down on something.

Where the hell am I?

Someone is trying to drag
me by my arms in the opposite direction. Tilting my head back, I look up at a
little boy, about nine or ten, blond hair, his face bright red from the strain
of my weight.

“Wake up!” the boy shouts.

After the girl has pulled
the spade out of the man’s throat, she drives it down again, hard, nearly
severing the head entirely.

This has to be a
nightmare.

“Come on, Amelia!” the
little boy sobs. “It’s dead! Leave it!”

She brings the spade down
for yet another stab at the man’s neck, this time cutting the head off
completely. “It’s not dead, Josh!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it’s not, Josh! It
can’t die!”

The disorientation
disappears and a sudden shunt of clarity hits me. I know exactly where I am,
what I’m doing on the floor.

Scrambling to my feet, my
knee gives way under my weight. I cry out in agony. The boy helps me to my
feet, clutching my arm tight with his scrawny hands. The girl drops the spade
and bolts towards us, shouldering me in the chest, trying to get me through the
back door. I fly into the kitchen. As the door slams shut, I catch a glimpse of
the Nec clamber back onto its feet, its head still on the path. The girl
twists the lock on the back door and pulls down the blind, covering the glass
panel.

The young girl and boy
steer me through the kitchen. They lower me onto a chair and I sit, heavily,
still not completely recovered from the concussion. “Turn the light off,” I
say, groggily, pointing up at the bulb on the ceiling. “They’ll see us.” The
girl races over to the wall by the back door and switches it off. The room
becomes pitch black and silent.

My head cloudy, knee
throbbing, I try to listen out for Necs.

Can’t hear any. I think
we’re safe.

Suddenly a dim light comes
on, lifting some of the darkness. I see the girl, standing to the left of me.
There’s a thin beam of light coming from an extractor-fan, which is positioned
directly above a large oven. “Is this too bright?” she asks me, her finger
still on the button.

I shake my head. “No, it’s
fine.”

She walks over to the
cupboard, pulls a glass out, and fills it up with water at the sink. She places
the glass on the table in front of me.

“Thank you,” I say,
noticing for the first time her bushy red hair, her light-blue top and
jeans—and the horror in her large, emerald eyes.

“Are you here to help us?”
she asks me, leaning against the worktop, the boy huddled up close to her, his head
just about reaching her chest.

“What do you mean?” I ask,
the haze in my eyes still lingering.

“Well, you’re one of those
Cleaners, aren’t you? You’re meant to help us.”

I glance down at my
mud-stained uniform, and swallow the water down in one gulp. “Yeah. That’s
right. I’m a Cleaner.”

“Have you come to help
us?” the little boy asks, still cowering behind the girl.

I pause for a moment,
almost forgetting my job, my whole reason for being in this Godforsaken
hellhole. “Yeah. Of course I have. I’m Catherine—Cath. You can call me Cath.
I’m a Cleaner.”

“Where’s the rest of you?”
the girl asks. “I saw four vans drive past the house this morning.”

“We got into some trouble
over by the church.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“We got ambushed by a
large group of Necs. I got separated.”

Shit. I shouldn’t have
said that. They’re too young.

“But there’s more of you
coming, yeah?” the little boy asks, his tone laced with worry. “They’re on
their way, right?”

I rub my eyes, noticing
that I no longer have my gloves on, or my helmet. It reminds me of Andrew’s
contorted face, just before they killed him. I want to cry, but I can’t. Not
here. Not yet. Not in front of the children. Everything seems so surreal and
dreamlike. The journey from The Mount to here seems like it was days ago. Can’t
seem to shake off this fog—being knocked unconscious, hurting my knee.

The Nec crawling over me…

“You saved my life,” I
say, only now realising it. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. We had to,”
the girl says. “We couldn’t let that monster bite you.”

“But you could have been
killed.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I can see that. How old
are you?”

“I’m fourteen. And my
brother’s nine,” she replies, pulling him even closer.

“Well, I’m glad you came
out when you did.”

“That was Josh. He saw you
from the window.”

I smile at the little boy.
“Josh, is it? Thank you. You saved my life.”

“It’s okay,” he says,
shyly. “My sister was the one with the spade.”

“Where did you find the
courage to do something like that?” I ask her.

Amelia shrugs. “Just
didn’t want that monster hurting anyone else.”

“Did he hurt you?”

The siblings shake their
heads in unison. “Not us,” Josh says, his eyes welling up.

“Who?”

“It bit Michael,” Amelia
says.

“Who’s Michael?”

“He’s our foster dad,” he
says, sniffing, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his red jumper. “And then
our foster dad bit our foster mum.”

A cold shudder slithers
over my skin. “And where are your foster parents now?”

Josh points at the kitchen
door. “They’re in the living room.”

The
thought of these children, under the same roof as two Necs makes me almost sick
to my stomach. This should never have happened. Someone should have got them
out this morning. They should be safe and sound, away from this shit-hole, away
from all the infection. Not decapitating bloody Necs in their own garden.

“Is the door sealed off?”
I ask by the kitchen door, listening out for groans, signs of movement.

“Yeah,” Amelia replies,
standing next to me, with her brother by her side, holding her hand. “It’s
locked from the inside.”

“A lock?”

“Yeah. Juliet had one put
in last summer after Josh broke one of her ornaments.”

“It was an accident!” Josh
snaps. Amelia shushes him, and he frowns hard at her.

“How is the door locked
from the inside?” I ask, frowning in confusion.

“Juliet locked herself in,”
she replies. “Before she turned.”

“Oh,
Jesus
. What
happened?”

“None of us saw Michael
get bitten,” Amelia struggles to say, clearly holding back her tears. “We just
heard screaming. I was in my bedroom, and Juliet was getting Josh ready for
school. Michael must have seen the man in the garden and went out to him. He
couldn’t have known about the outbreak. None of us did. We rushed downstairs to
see what the noise was. By the time we got to the kitchen, Michael was crawling
across the floor, bleeding from the side of his neck. We saw the man in the
garden, blood all over his mouth, limping towards the house. Juliet slammed the
back door in his face and went to Michael. She told me to grab a tea towel, to
keep pressure on his neck. But it was too late—he died.”

I look down at the floor,
noticing the faint bloodstain still not completely mopped up.

“Me and Juliet dragged his
body into the living room. We put him on the couch and then called an
ambulance. But when we got through, they said that we’d have to stay in our
homes until Disease Control got here.”

“Oh, my God,” I say,
shaking my head, glancing at Josh’s distraught face.
Way too young for all
this shit
. “That’s terrible.”

“Juliet sat with him,
crying her eyes out. Don’t think she believed he was dead. And she was right. I
watched his eyes open. Then he just sat up and took a bite out of her arm.
That’s when we knew exactly what was going on.”

“Is that why she locked
herself in with him?” I ask. “To protect you from her and Michael?”

Amelia nods. “She told us
to stay away from the door, to not let her out for anything. Josh was crying,
so we locked ourselves in my bedroom. And that’s when we saw you.”

I pause for a moment,
trying to think of my next plan of action. So far all I’ve done is get my
partner killed, run for my life, and almost get eaten. Can’t screw up now. Not
with these kids trapped here. “Where’s your phone?” I ask, but then I spot it
attached to the wall by the window.

“Who are you calling?”
Amelia asks, pointing at the phone. “We’ve tried calling for help.”

“I might have more luck.”
I dial 999 and within seconds a woman’s voice appears on the other end of the
line.

“
999. Which emergency
service do you require?
”

“Hi. My name is Catherine
Woods. I’m a Cleaner for Disease Control. I’m trapped in a place called
Crandale. It’s under—”

“
Please hold,
” she
says, cutting me off.

There’s silence for a few
seconds until I hear an automated voice: “
Your area is under government
quarantine. Please stay in your homes at all times. Make sure all your doors
and windows are locked. Ensure that all lights and loud electrical equipment
remain switched off. If a person is showing signs of infection, avoid or
contain them until help arrives. Do not attempt to confront infected persons.
Above all else, please stay calm. Your area is under government quarantine.
Please stay in your homes at all times. Make sure all your doors and windows
are locked. Ensure that all lights and
—”

Returning the phone back
onto its cradle, I try to hide the grave disappointment on my face.

“What did they say?” Josh
asks, hopeful.

“They said to sit tight
for now. Help is on the way.”

“Is there someone else you
can call?” Amelia asks. “Maybe the other Cleaners?”

“I’ve already tried them
on the radio. Can’t get through.”

“Phone your boss then.”

“I don’t know the number,”
I reply, shaking my head, pissed off that I didn’t memorise it. “It was saved
in my mobile. And I don’t have it on me.”

“How come you don’t know
it off by heart?” Amelia asks, frowning, suspicion in her tone.

I sigh, ignoring her
question, trying to think of another way to get the number. “Where’s your
computer? I should be able to find it online.”

“It’s in the living room.”

“
Shit.
”

“It doesn’t matter,”
Amelia says. “We don’t need anyone. We’ve got you. You can get us out of
Crandale.”

“It’s not safe out there.
You saw it yourself. There’s just too many of them. We need to stay put and
wait for help.”

“What if Juliet and
Michael decide to kick the door open? What are we supposed to do then?” Amelia
snaps.

“They won’t. As long as we
don’t make too much noise. Necs respond mainly to sound and movement. They
won’t bother us.”

What the hell do I
know? I’m just a worthless trainee.

“Look, if it makes you
feel better,” I say. “I’ll go check on the door. Make sure it’s secure.”

I grasp the handle of the
kitchen door and twist it. Josh leaps forward, pushing my hand away. “Don’t,”
he says, his words filled with dread. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I’ll be quick.”

“They’ll hear you.”

“No, they won’t. I’ll be
quiet. You and your sister just stay in here, and I’ll be right back. I
promise.”

Amelia takes her brother’s
hand and pulls him into her. “Just let her go. She’s a Cleaner. She knows what
she’s doing.”

Do I?

No partner. No helmet. No
gun. No backup.

I open the door slowly and
step out into the hallway. The light is on. I see the switch on the wall and
knock it off. Can’t see anything. There’s a faint glow coming from the street
lamp outside, leaking in through the glass of the front door, but that’s it. As
my eyes adjust to the low light, I see a door to the left of the front door.
It’s closed. Must be the living room. Tiptoeing towards it, all I can think
about is Andrew, and why he’s not here with me, leading the way, keeping me
safe. A rush of guilt washes over me when I picture him taking his helmet off
to console me.

Why did I have to cry?

Couldn’t I have just
sucked it up, let it out
after
the job was done? We still hadn’t
finished sweeping the house. If I had just swallowed the pain a little harder,
cried when I got home—on my
own
bloody bed—Andrew would still be alive.

I stop myself from crying
when I reach the living room. Leaning in close to the door, I listen out for
movement, for faded growls, footsteps. Peering down at the doorknob, I feel the
urge to twist it just to make sure that it’s definitely locked from the inside.
I mean, what if it’s not? What if she turned before she got a chance to turn
the key? Can’t even contemplate trying the doorknob, can’t risk disturbing
them. I’m no match for two Necs. Not now. Not without a weapon or helmet. As
long as we’re quiet, and we stay away from the door, I can’t see them being
much of a threat. Help won’t be that long, surely. Once they get wind of the
extent of problems here, they’re bound to send in reinforcements. They can’t just
leave us here. There’s got to be some—

There’s a loud thud on the
door, followed by a low-pitch moan. I almost scream out in fright but somehow
manage to rein it in. Backing away, I retreat into the kitchen.

“Is it safe?” Amelia asks.

“I think so,” I reply, my
voice lacking any real conviction.

“What do you mean
you
think so?
Is that lock gonna keep them in or not?”

“I don’t know, Amelia. I
can’t risk twisting the doorknob in case it disturbs them. I mean, you were
there when she locked the door. Did you hear her lock it?”

“Yeah. She did,” Josh
intervenes. “I heard the clicking noise.”

“Me, too.”

“Then we should be fine,”
I say. “If we leave them be, there’s no reason to think that they’ll try to get
out. So let’s just go upstairs and lock ourselves in the biggest bedroom. Wait
‘til morning. I’m sure this will all be over by then.”

Amelia looks at her
brother, her eyes brimming with distrust, and then back at me. “You promise?”

“Of course,” I reply.
“We’ll be fine. As long as we stay together.”

“What if they get us in
our sleep?” Josh asks, frantically.

“Don’t be silly,” Amelia
says. “We won’t be sleeping tonight. Not with those things down here.”

He nods, the fear in his
wide eyes apparent. “Okay, sis. If you say so.”

She pulls her brother in
close to her, and kisses him on the top of his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep
you safe.” She looks up at me. “We both will.”

I nod and force out an
assertive smile. “Nothing’s going to happen, buddy. I promise.” I give the
kitchen a quick scan. “Do you have any weapons? A baseball bat? Cricket bat?
Anything to use as a precaution?”

Josh shrugs. “Don’t think
so. Not very good at sports.”

“We did have a spade,”
Amelia points out, “but I left it outside when I took the man’s head off.”

“Okay. Doesn’t matter.” I
go over to the cutlery drawer and pick out the largest knife I can find. It’s
not very sharp, or big, but it’s better than nothing. “This’ll do. We won’t
need it, anyway.”

“Should we take our shoes
off, Cath?” Josh suggests. “We’ll be quieter going up the stairs.”

“That’s a great idea,” I
say with a smile. “Why didn’t
I
think of that?”

He returns a proud beam
and sits on the chair, pulling his white trainers off without loosening the
laces. Amelia sits on the other chair and does the same with her blue ones. I
crouch down, untie my laces, and yank off my thick boots.

“Keep them with you,” I
say, and then motion with my head for them to follow me out of the kitchen.
“Just in case.”

Creeping out into the
hallway, knife pointed straight ahead, I lead them warily towards the stairs. I
glance back at the kids as we get to the living-room door; Amelia has her
brother’s hand held tight. We move even slower past the door, one at a time,
until we reach the foot of the stairs. Tiptoeing up, I clench when I hear the
slightest of creaks. Luckily, there’s virtually no sound by the time we arrive
at the top. Thank God.

On the landing, I see four
doors, and a small window that looks down onto the garden. “Which room?” I
whisper.

Amelia points to a door on
the left.

“
Wait
,” Josh whispers,
pulling out of his sister’s hand, swiftly disappearing into one of the other
rooms on the right.

“What’s he doing?” I
quietly ask Amelia. But before she can answer, he emerges with a
Spider-Man
soft toy, holding it tight to his chest.

Amelia rolls her eyes and
grabs his hand again, pulling him to the room on the left.

As we enter the large
bedroom, I nearly switch the light on but stop myself just before.

Josh closes the door.
There’s a key in the lock, so I twist it, and then check the handle to make
sure the room is secure. It’s almost pitch black apart from the street lamps
outside the window, trickling through the thin slit of the drawn curtains. I
see a small bedside lamp on the right side of the room and then switch it on at
its dimmest setting. Sighing loudly in relief, I sit on the double bed. The two
children join me.

“Put your shoes back on,”
I say, placing the knife on the bedside cabinet, and then slipping my feet back
into my boots.

“Why?” Josh asks. “I
thought we were going to bed.”

“Just in case we have to
leave in a hurry.”

“Okay,” he replies,
putting his tiny shoes on, his sister doing the same.

“Is this your parents’
bedroom?” I ask, eyes examining the room.

“They’re not our parents,”
Amelia corrects me, with a slight bitterness in a tone.

“Sorry. I’m meant your
foster parents.”

She nods. “Yeah. We’re
never allowed in here. They have a key for pretty much all the rooms.”

“Why’s that?”

“They don’t trust us.”

“Why not?”

“Because they don’t know
us.”

“So how long have you been
with this family?”

“About ten months.”