I’d done it.

It was prize winning material, even capturing the figures running across the roof. Sighting what could have been Toni, could have been her, miniature on the monitor screen. I was sure as she climbed to the helicopter. My breath caught, or almost, as the children were guided high along the roof. I carried on despite the woman’s words from the days before, the best hosts, hoping my words streaming from my mouth weren’t catching as I thought about a fate similar to mine.

But my power was to let everyone know, to use my words to narrate the story over the horrific pictures from the journey. Others could zoom and identify the culprits, could track the helicopter and end this madness.

They had more time left than we did.

Ryan left the camera rolling as I waiting for the upload to finish, staring at the destruction, only turning away as the automatic reply flashed across the screen telling me the footage had been received by the editor.

Now it was up to them to do what they had to do. I had to rely on them to make the choice to send it out to the masses, to push out my warning as far as it would go.

“What now?” Ryan said from the open doors of the van, his voice calming my rising beat.

“There’s probably a thousand, maybe more on their way here,” I said sighing through my smile.

“So what do you want to do? You’ve done it despite everything,” he said, his eyes wide, face beaming a mirror image of mine.

“We did it. Thank you,” I said letting my shoulders fall.

“Do you think they’ll use it?” he replied, his face set in a scowl as he nodded to the images still playing on the wall of screens.

“We’ll probably never know,” I said with a sigh.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” he said raising his eyebrows.

I nodded.

“But what can I do?” I said not letting my lips deflate.

“I don’t think this story’s over yet,” he said raising a smile in the corner of his mouth and turned toward the hospital while my eyes caught on the one screen showing the feed from the camera. I watched the wide angle as the helicopter lifted, the wind picking up even inside the van. My eyebrows raised at the sight as Ryan spoke.

“There’s two people on the roof,” he said, squinting as I turned. “A dog too,” he said, uncertainty in his voice. “We should go see if they’re okay,” he added turning back.

I closed my eyes taking a slow breath.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” I said as I held my hand to my stomach.

Roll credits….

Yes…

…that’s it for Season Two. Watch this space for a few fun posts while I recharge my batteries before I get back to these words I’ve so enjoyed creating. Thank you for reading and staying this long. If you enjoyed, let me know in the comments or Like my Facebook page.

Know who it is walking across the roof? Want to know what they had to go through to get there? Check out Season One.

Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

First eye contact had been the test. His and mine, but for different reasons. The door creeping open as I gave the nod, told me I’d passed his. The muscle still beating in his chest as he pushed the door closed at my back meant I’d passed mine too.

“I thought you were dead,” he said through a grey smile, his hands reaching to the floor to pull up my red jacket before handing it over. I didn’t reply when he looked away while I dressed, grabbing the skirt with both my hands, clenching it hard in my right fist. I took joy in the sensation, pausing only a moment before pulling down my jeans mottled with darkness. Turning around, prim and proper again, my clothes at least, he drew me close. After only a moment’s hesitation I let myself in for the embrace, guilt rising, but the sensation dissipated when I couldn’t taste his scent, no desire building, no will pushing me to rend flesh from bone. As the realisation took hold, I drew in closer, gripping tight, letting the tears of joy, of relief, flow down to his shoulder. He didn’t jump back, his face not full of fear at my deathly cold skin as he burned against me. I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew what was going on inside my head or was it all in my imagination?

“What happened?” he said as we released, answering one of my questions. Perhaps?

The scratch and scrape on the thin metal came back, but we barely noticed as we looked with intent into each other’s eyes. He broke off first, leaning to hand me cleaning cloths and a bottle of fluid intended for the cameras. He didn’t press me for an answer, he didn’t need to know and I didn’t need to sully Jordain’s name with a pack of hastily prepared lines.

“The helicopter,” I said, my voice croaking, his head spinning to the windscreen as he nodded. “She’s getting away.”

“The engine?” he said returned with his face in a grimace, eyes wide as they locked back to mine.

“Try it now,” I said, scraping the wet cloth between my fingers, whilst Ryan dabbed his hand to his left cheek.

In moments we were pushing forward, my right hand gripping hard as we slid sideways and back again to avoid the swarm gathering. We’d been quick enough not to let the crowd build, quick enough to find the gap in the blockade, the small groups easy to avoid as we swerved in and around the cars abandoned in the road, leaving them instead to follow, forming on mass in our wake.

We didn’t stop at the second olive container by the roadside, slowing only to take the slalom of the concrete blocks without scraping, but with enough pace shed to know the position, like the last, had long fallen. As the road rolled under the tyres, the rest of the streets were no surprise, the desolation, the vacancy, even the lack of creatures didn’t cause me to look twice. Soon we could see every other panel of the hastily erected fence had fallen, the outer perimeter ineffective and we drove right through a gap, slowing only to stop the skid. No point in swerving the bodies when there was no way to avoid. Ryan drove us toward the building crowned with the swirled blades of the helicopter, turning away only as I put my hand to his shoulder, the view in the mirror forgotten, the crowd so much thicker than we’d already failed to get through, but it didn’t matter. I’d seen the communications truck Jordain had mentioned and with my beat so hard in my chest, I ran into the back whilst the wheels slowed, watching the equipment’s lights flashing green as it picked up the surrounding network.

We pushed the doors open at the same time. I straightened my skirt and jacket, staring into the tall wing mirror, pleased with what I saw, only needing to give a slap to each cheek to draw out the rose colour, the faint darkness in the grooves serving well to highlight and contour. With energy rising deep from with inside me, I took a breath and with my back to the hospital building, the destruction and carnage all around, I stared with the morning sun in my face and beamed at the red light shining back from the camera.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

The cold, hard ground felt like it had drawn every degree of warmth from my body, while sound pounded across my head, booming through the fresh air. Pain traced my eyelids as they opened, just like when I’d cried the entire night after coming home from a week of bliss with the woman I could no longer bear to think of. 

A new day had started, the signs obvious in the chilled air, the sky brighter than when my head had first rested, exhausted to the cold ground. I looked around, taking in the narrow picture, but turning my head and body together I could get a full view despite the tyres and a thin spear of something hanging down near the front. Turning to the other end of the van, I saw a body, or what remained. Bone and ragged fatigues drenched a dark shade told me what lay by the rear. I hadn’t needed the reminder, the moments still as fresh as if they’d just happened.

Wandering feet, some with shoes, some not, hung around in the distance, but were few and far between. The noise still lumbered in the air, a pounding, rapid battery of pressure. A helicopter, I said to myself. Pleased my mind had jumped back on the track, pleased I’d woken to conscious thought and I’d found my groove despite my eyes drifting back to the body every other moment. I knew there was only one way to get past this and I fixed my eyes on the remains, listening to the sensations radiating from my head.

After a few moments I knew I didn’t feel guilt. This had not been my choice. She should have to bare the pain. The regret hers, not mine.

Pleased with my conclusion, I turned away from the skeleton, flitting back to the noise of the helicopter, but fixing on what stuck out from below the engine.

Crawling along the road on my elbows to the rhythm of the battered air, soon my eyes caught the long shape, the white of the bone stripped of flesh, only sinew remaining to hang like thick white hair. With my right hand I took hold, first noticing the blood streaked across my fingers, nails jagged and broken, then wondering at the lack of pain, the return of definition in my touch as I gripped tight. Face distorting with the effort, I felt the pull of something across my skin, but didn’t need a mirror to know what had dried, soaked into my pores.

With the bone removed, rattling to the road as it dropped, I rolled from under the van, my blood brimming with energy as I stood. I felt invigorated, could feel no pain, no aches, the cold air so refreshing as I pulled it deep into my lungs. My eyes caught on the helicopter, now a dot in the distance as it lowered, the sound shrinking as it fell behind the far away buildings. I smiled, dried flakes falling as it cracked on my skin, pleasure rising from my chest as I knew I hadn’t lost my cause. She was still mine for the taking, she still had to pay. Jordain just another victim of the crime I would make her account for.

Pulling my t-shirt over my head, the cold air sending shivers of sensation across my bare chest, I did my best to wipe my face, but I wasn’t hopeful, the t-shirt already too far from its original colour. The dead still paid no attention as I walked around the van and I stared, taking a moment to linger on the bare bones close up. The body stripped clean, fatigues shredded, the laden holster at his side. I dragged it away from the door. No need for Ryan to see what had happened. Kicking the holstered gun under the van, I pulled up the handle, the creatures around only taking notice as tapped a light request on the metal.

Ryan’s bleary-eyed reaction paused much less than I’d expected, his look going from my face, from my chest to beyond my shoulders, returned to lock eyes again, my breath stopping as he spoke through the crack.

“Do you feel better now?”

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

The road felt cold even through my trainers, the light brighter than I remembered. I moved to the right almost bumping into a tall man, half his face dangling at his side. I didn’t take a deep breath, didn’t scream, my blood pumping at the same pace as he pushed me to the side. I let him. Jordain’s feet slapped to the floor and I turned much faster than those heads all around making their long slow twists toward the noise, their bodies following.

I heard my name on the breeze, heard the sweet scent unlatching my stomach, turned as another shoved past to push a smile on my face. Jordain’s eyes were wide, his expression holding mine only for a moment, his concentration elsewhere, hands grasping to pull his only chance of survival from the holster. I didn’t waste the time on an apology, my hands busy pushing the door closed as the first of the mouths took hold. I didn’t waste time watching his reaction, watching his hands give up on the weapon, instead fists balled for a moment, striking out at the growing crowd. I gave in, let myself be consumed, taking my place, falling to my knees as he did, crouching to the ground, my face almost touching the tarmac as I filled like a baby sucking on a teat.

Full. Senses dulled from the feed, the man before no longer recognised. I rolled under the van, my stomach griping with pleasure as it gurgled, excited at the contents.

Coming to a rest in the centre I felt the van’s warmth all gone, but had no care. Tears streamed, rolling to my ears, but my mind wouldn’t let me linger on his face, pulling away time and again as the taste filled my senses, energy radiating from my core as I turned to my side and watched the sun slowly disappear like my humanity had drained away. Like my dreams flowed down the plug hole. Like my hopes for an ending which involved Toni paying the price for what I had now become.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

It didn’t matter which way he turned the wheel or how many times the key clicked in the ignition, the engine wouldn’t pay attention to his command. We soon travelled too slow to outrun, only heavy breath filling the cab as those we’d barged our way through gathered back around, hands slapping, clawing, scratching against our thin metal skin. A rising pressure gripped my empty stomach, a dread expanding deep down inside as the windscreen filled with faces, jaws slack, bloodied teeth bared and broken.

For the first time since we’d stopped, I glanced to Ryan and his stern expression, face fixed on the gathering crowd, but I knew he wasn’t looking, something else in his mind. I leant across, peering at the dashboard and lights of all colours flooding the view. With the fuel gauge hovering high above empty, I guessed the damage to the front had been too much, but still the question slipped from my mouth.

“What’s wrong with it?”

Ryan shook his head, looking down to the rainbow of colours staring back, none of which said anything other than we needed to find another ride.

“I won’t know anything until I can have a look,” he said, standing and heading into the back. I didn’t need to follow to know he was checking the rear doors were locked. I looked to Jordain, watching the raise of his brow in agreement. Ryan didn’t return and with a shot of energy surging from inside, I flashed a look around the cab searching for the guns, trying to remember how many we had. Not finding any of the weapons, but the rifle in Jordain’s footwell, a pistol back in the holster at his hip, I lifted out of the seat, lowering myself beside Ryan, moving the pistol from the seat as I planted, placing it out of reach on the shelf above my head with my eyes not leaving the tops of his hands as he buried his face deep within them.

“How long do you think it will take them before they move on?” I said, cringing each time I picked out a scrape of nails, the echo surrounding us. He lifted his head out of his hands, eyes searching when he’d found me in the seat. 

“I don’t know,” he said, voice lowering as he spoke, his expression set on mine with a question he seemed reluctant to ask. My eyes fell on the back of the van and the far corner sprayed with blood, drips clotting to a stop, dried as they’d rolled from where they’d first hit. Light disappeared and I silently thanked Jordain for blocking my view as he stood, coming through from the front, taking the seat opposite me, his voice only just above the dim echoing through the thin metal skin.

“We wait?” he said, nodding as Ryan gave a weak reply, watching as I repeated the gesture. He sat back, closed his eyes while mine searched, skipping the corner, body rolling with the gentle shake from side to side as the suspension absorbed the slap of hands and bump of the crowd, my mind all the while trying to judge if their activity was retreating or getting worse.

I could see no food, my hand reaching for my stomach as a cramp held my insides to ransom. I hadn’t eaten since the night before and it hadn’t been enough to hold back the pain. I kept telling myself over and again the same would be true if Toni, her name sticking in my thoughts, hadn’t done what she had to me. Anyway, I’d was cured. Right?

Jordain snored. The noise light and barely there, but from his posture, the slow rise and fall of his chest, it was obvious he was asleep, confirming my previous experience with the military. Rest when you can because you don’t know when you’ll next get the chance. Was he right to feel safe with me trapped inside?

Soon, like rain battering the canvas of a tent, the scratch and scrape formed a pattern and although my fear didn’t subside, my breath slowed as I concentrated on Jordain’s rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the slow, gentle pace of his breath I imagined over the din and with it my eyes grew heavy.

I woke to silence, fearing the quiet had brought the end, but as my eyes adjusted, I saw Jordain leant against the metal opposite, Ryan to my side, asleep still with his head in his hands. The scratch and scrape had gone, but I daren’t move, instead sat there listening for any clue of what was happening beyond the metal.

With each passing moment without action, without conversation, trapped in the tin can, I felt the pressure in my gut tighten, pain radiating up and down. My body’s way of telling me it needed sustaining, needed fuel, but did it have to make me hallucinate?

First came the smell. Steak fresh from the packet. An odour I’d never been a fan of. I’d always held my nose until it sizzled in the pan, but now I craved to slide back the plastic and take a deep pull. The thought caught me off guard, but as soon as I backed away from the image I felt a fist gripped tight to my stomach, twisting my insides. Licking my lips without command, another smell, lamb I thought, came to mind and the pain relented. I stood, Ryan lifting his head out of his hands, asking a question with his eyes. I nodded as I trod my feet light with every step, swallowing down saliva and his face dropped back to his palms.

With my hand at my chest I looked out past the windscreen, heart leaping to see the crowd had dispersed. Creatures still walked around with no aim, but they no longer crowded the van. A hollow victory if anyone made a sound.

Tapping Jordain on the shoulder, I felt a rush of energy rise through my body, it was all I could do to stop the pain pulling my features down. His eyes lit up, blinking fast to clear the downiness. He stood, his movements slow and silent, air wafting all around and the pain relented. He followed my look through the window, followed me as I trod lightly across the back of the van. With his mouth opening wide, his pace quick, but it wasn’t enough to get to me before I’d slid the bolt across and pushed the handle open. Before the light and wash of cold air streamed from outside. Before I stepped to the tarmac, leaving the door open and wide.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

I kept my eyes wide. Chose to watch as our speed built, taking in the view, my body gripped with anticipation, head practicing for how the first impact would feel. I kept my eyes wide when the first clash of flesh and bone sent a shudder of emotion though my body, watching each creature mown down, heads splitting from their bodies by the neck, rolling up the windscreen, not able to un-listen to the solid thumps against the roof as they travelled along to echos of decapitation. I thought of the debris getting caught in the satellite transmitter, but tried to force my imagination not to picture tufts of hair wedged between the mechanical parts, eyes dangling down by connective tissue from where the metal connected.

With the windscreen wipers fighting to clear the blood, only smearing the liquor left and right, I could feel the van slowing, the metal complaining as I tried to relax back into the seat, tried to let the pressure of my blood release, only to spike again as a new horror presented.

The children were the worst. My imagination fixing panic on their features. Hands grasping for parents, instead of their expressions devoid of any reaction, even as they hit the metal, even as what life remained finally expired. I took a great gasp, seeing nieces and nephews I’d barely spoken with in the past few years. Their perfectly formed features showing no sign of affliction, their veins buried deep and out of sight, not raised to the surface, black and bulging.

A hand gripped my left, Ryan to my right shooting a look as I gasped for air, hoping it was my imagination alone which felt our momentum slowing with each hit.

We were slowing. My look to Ryan, then to Jordain confirmed, neither of them able to hide the fact from their features as we each tried to look on, to look beyond the sea of creatures which seemed unending.

“What’s your name?” I shouted out above the din of each impact, the complaint of metal, plastic, the fabric of the van now so fragile. I didn’t look as he kept quiet, just repeated. “What’s your name, your first name?” I said, shooting a look to my left. “It can’t end this way without knowing who you are?”

When he still didn’t reply I twisted for a look to see his expression narrowed, eyebrows heavy as he caught my glance, trying to ignore why no one had corrected my thoughts on how this would turn out.

“Don’t you know your name?” I said, nervous laughter spilling up from my throat. Ryan gave a flurry of air from his lungs and I turned to see his lips set in a smile as he shot me a look, the smile dropping, eyes widening as he looked back through the windscreen. I turned back to see Jordain’s eyebrows even further down his face, weathered skin lined across his forehead.

“Liam,” he replied, his white teeth on show as a smile soon parted his lips. Each of us flinched back to the windscreen, rocking against our seats as a dark shape disappeared at the top of the glass, leaving behind a great crack radiating where it had hit.

I renewed my grip on Liam’s hand, wishing I could hold Ryan’s in the other, but the tension alone caused pain to pulse up and along my right arm. With the last hit, the van seemed to have slowed more than ever. There had been hope before, we’d known the crowd of undead couldn’t have gone on long enough for us to slow to a stop, but now with the path unending it felt as if it we were only moments away from the worst situation.

Just as my mood sank lower than I thought I could recover from, I saw light, saw spaces between the bodies and their grasping hands. Air pulled into my lungs and I raised myself, squinting through the sheen of orange, the darkness filling the crack. I was right, the crowd was defiantly thinning. I could see the darkness of the road between and we had more than enough speed to carry us through, to knock the bodies to the side, to roll over those who wouldn’t get out of the way. I gripped Liam’s hand tight, pulsing my fingers, nodding towards the screen, hoping he’d seen the same, then turned to Ryan, my smile full of enthusiasm to end this part of the journey.

His face dropped as I caught his view. I flinched to the screen, but nothing had changed, our view was clearing, we were coming out of the danger. Then I felt it. Felt the rumble of the engine, the hiccup of our movement despite no impact from outside, despite having cleared the last creature Ryan couldn’t just avoid.

It came a second time and I twisted around to Liam, let go of his grip, hoping someone would say something as the engine stuttered for a third time. Blood drained from my head as on the fourth it failed to recovered and we slowed, rolling in the silence.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

I fell through the doorway, scattering to the cold road as the pair rushed the other side, calling through the sobs, the back of my good hand brushing across my eyes, smearing away the tears.

“Pick it up,” I screamed, regaining my feet, Ryan flinching back as I arrived at this side. “Pick it up,” I said wiping my face dry, letting the sharp wind lick with each shake of my head. “The camera,” I replied forcing Ryan’s shocked expression to the ground and away from the scene I had to capture. He nodded once, in a daze, stooping to grab from the ground on his second attempt, raising the camera on his shoulder as I checked for the red light. “The microphone,” I pleaded, stepping forward with his shrug, breath flinching in my lungs as Jordain clattered around inside the van.

Taking the microphone in hand, I stepped back, not looking to see the distance they’d closed, my already words pouring out, raw, unprofessional, less than a rookie could manage. I tried to slow, to cool my hurry, adding definition to the speech I hadn’t needed to prepare. When the flow stopped, I knew I’d done enough. The picture over my shoulder would have alone done the job. My emotion a ripe illustration of how worried the viewers should be, hoping they would take my pleading to prepare, to not sit back and hope to be served their life on a silver platter. Hoping I’d made them understand life was no longer a right. Life had become something you had to fight for.

Like a director in my ear, the stench told me my time was up.

I held the camera on my lap as if it were a child, fragile, precious, in need of constant care while Ryan reversed along the road. As the van slowed, in silence we took up our tasks, each knowing what the other was about with no need to ask.

Ryan circled the van, a rifle slung over his shoulder, every other moment sweeping the sight across the view, lingering on where they we’d come. He calculated we’d have half an hour if they’d continued to follow, but he wouldn’t let his guard down, knew the danger could come from any angle, even the sky, despite it having been empty for some time.

Jordain worked at a considered pace, taking care with the body as he lay what remained in the grass at the side of the road, covering him with a sheet of plastic, finding stones, boulders, what he could to give Sheppard the privacy he deserved.

I played the controls in the back of the van, ignoring the images uploaded to the suite of screens, there’d be no editing, a raw version is what they’d get, the images ready, the van giving the familiar shudder as the satellite transmitter raised.

Until its premature stop.

Pushing the button a second time, I heard the groan of mechanisms above my head, the whine of gears locked together unable to fulfil their task. I pushed the system into reverse, felt the shake as the metal settled home, then lift one more time, counting the seconds, finishing before it should.

With a deep breath I stepped to the road, moving away to get a better view. I didn’t need to climb the ladder held to the back doors, didn’t need to get up close to see great splinter of wood, no shorter than my forearm, wedged in the mechanism, just like I didn’t need to hear Ryan’s words. Our time had gone again.

“They’ll have what you need at the hospital,” Jordain said, his voice close at my ear making me jump. “All sorts of comms gear,” he said. “We can still deliver the message.”

I smiled at his unbidden words, turned and took his hand, squeezing until he pulled away before his pain rose any further.

“We’ll find another way,” Ryan said, his eyes, like ours, scouring the sea of bobbing heads, moving from hair matted with what could only be blood, to great rends of flesh across those leading the way with their wide, slack, but determined expressions.

“No,” Jordain and I replied in unison as he sat in the third seat to my side, his fingers pushing my seatbelt into place.

“We’re going right through them,” I said, bracing my good hand against the dashboard, the engine flaring as Ryan’s right foot grew heavy.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

Jordain shrugged, his eyes following mine, weapon raising as my face opened wide. I pushed my hand out, resting on his forearm, but still it climbed. I saw the resolve in his eyes as he first caught sight, the training racing through his brain with no thought, hands settling on the grip of the rifle as it travelled through the air to find its target.

This was a man who’d raised his weapon in combat before. The lines across his face set with a glare I’d seen so many times in the battlegrounds of Afghanistan, on other faces in other time zones and on both sides other the line. It was the look of someone who knew they would take a life. Knew they were putting themselves forward for the ultimate sacrifice, but never had I seen the pause, the raise of the head, the widening of the eyes as he pulled his head up from the sight, his humanity pausing for thought before he pulled the trigger, despite his most recent training telling him he had to put the woman with half her clothes missing and a great wound on her shoulder, down and down hard.

“No,” I said keeping my voice calm despite my inner panic, Ryan doing the same with Jordain’s colleague, the one we’d yet to know his name. Jordain turned, his fair eyes asking a question, a thought so obvious to anyone looking on, anyone seeing this played out in their mind’s eye, but not to those in the flesh, only moments from the creatures touch, the creature’s hungry bite. “We need to run, you’ll only attract more.” 

I turned around and saw I hadn’t needed to say the words, others followed behind the pace setter passing between the fence and the flat bed truck, with it their foul stench followed on the wind.

“No,” I said. “We need to go.”

Jordain nodded, turning to his left, his weapon gripped hard, but pointed to the grass.

“Let’s go,” he said, following my example with his volume, but his colleague’s rose as his head shook to the side. Ryan backed off, knowing what would happen next, ushering me in through the van door before he ran around the front.

The round went off and the woman’s head exploded, sending her body to the floor, the remains of her brain covering the creatures at her back as they passed over her body without a pause. Jordain knocked the muzzle of the rifle down before he grabbed his colleague by the arm and dragged him towards the van.

No one spoke as Ryan rolled us over the ground, the van pitching up and down, leaving the creatures to follow until they shrank to nothing in the mirror leaving us alone to skirt with the houses at our right until the wheels bumped through ruts and we joined the tarmac.

With the engine left to settle to a low murmur, I was the first to speak, peering over my shoulder, catching Jordain as he looked back. His colleague sat against the rear doors, eyes fixed to the side, his view somewhere else altogether.

“This road is a straight run to the hospital,” I said, switching a quick glimpse to the small screen suckered to the window. Jordain nodded.

“There are three checkpoints along this route, the first should be over the horizon,” he said, leaning forward and raising his rifle to look through the scope. “But take it real easy on the approach. They may have seen a little more action than us. May not be as controlled.”

Ryan interrupted.

“You mean don’t count on them knowing their arse from their elbow.”

I paused my breath, waiting for a reaction.

“He didn’t,” I said, but Jordain shrugged, letting a playful smile flash across his face before I could finish.

“Touché,” he said. “It might be better if I walk alongside.” My eyes darted around the view as I twisted back in my seat, searching out across the flat scrub rolling either side. Unless the creatures hid in the undulating ground, ducked down ready to pounce, we weren’t in immediate danger. As the thoughts settled I remembered the creatures who were different, those who displayed a higher level of intelligence, those who I’d fought in the compound where this all started, those who’d killed the pair of joggers. But they were rare, I told myself, nodding back towards Jordain, all the while trying not to think on the feral woman’s words. Forcing myself to think of anything other than how they connected to the creature’s intelligence.

“Let me drive,” I said, much to Ryan’s disdain. “We’ll be slow. It’s getting better,” I said, trying to hold back the muscles in my face from reacting to the pain as I raised my right, slowly flexing each of the swollen fingers. “He says there’s nothing broken.”

“I should drive,” Ryan said.

I shook my head.

“He also said you should keep it elevated,” he replied flinched a look into the back.

“I need you out there walking alongside. I need you to film what we’re seeing,” I said, raising my brow as I widened my eyes in a smile. His protest sank and as the corners of my mouth raised, guilt gathering in my chest.

“What’s your name?” I said calling into the back. My eyes flitted between Jordain walking with his rifle in both hands across his front, his eyes scouring the view and Ryan at his side matching his pace, the camera on his shoulder pointed forward and along the shallow climb of the road to the seemingly endless appearance of another over the brow.

“Sheppard”, his reply came after another minute of silence.

“I’m Jess,” I said.

“From the news,” he replied, but it wasn’t a question. I nodded anyway. “We were told it was an exercise,” he said, his voice flat. “Then we were told there’d been a chemical release. They issued NBC suits, sent us out on patrols. Then just as we got the orders to go build the fences, we’re not engineers mind,” he said shaking his head. “Patrols came back with men missing and entire patrols not returning at all. Then they told us about the disease, about people being bitten, coming back to life. They showed a presentation in the briefing, a Powerpoint with bizarre footage. We all thought it was a joke, checked our watches for the date, making sure we hadn’t skipped three months without knowing it. They were showing a horror movie for fuck’s sake. We still didn’t believe it even when we were out there, but when we lost comms with our oppos, with the FOB, it all became real.”

I didn’t fill the pause, had no words to help.

“I’m sorry for shooting at you,” he added, his words soft, distant.

Shaking my head, I was about to say how I understood, knowing how crazy, how fucked up the whole situation was, but I’d seen something, a building rise from the side of the road straight ahead as we slowly rolled forward. I soon realised it was a shipping container painted dark green, the first sign of movement raising the corner of my lips and seeming to brighten the sky, until I realised there was too much movement, too many people. My breath stopped, soon forced down in a sharp inhale. The checkpoint lay ahead, but we could barely see the concrete blocks in the road for the dead ambling around, the odd head turning to us, already drawing in our direction.

As the shot exploded in the back of the van, every creature in view turned in our direction. I twisted, a scream coming unbidden when I saw Sheppard’s body settling to the carpet, his brains running down the white paint of the bulkhead, fingers wrapped tight around the butt of the pistol.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

They were on us before we had time to flinch, the doors wide, dragged to the ground to the shouts I could barely make out for their volume. The soldiers seemed to call for an answer, expecting us to say something, but I couldn’t understand the question, their energy masking the words. I kept quiet, trying to protect my hand, then I rolled, dragged around to see the barrel of the rifle in my face, voice blaring, spit raining down as shouted for me to call him out, his view fixed onto my left eye then my right.

“Clear,” came a voice from the other side of the van, strong and confident, but with a question.

“Clear,” the guy said still leaning over me, but his brow told me he wasn’t sure. Then I got it. Although we’d been in the van, Ryan driving and we’d slowed when asked, despite all this they couldn’t be sure we were still human. Perhaps they thought this would be their first experience.

Was it disappointment I read on the soldier’s face?

“I’m okay,” I said, the words timid, voice trembling as I guarded my hand. His brow evened out, his expression falling as he stood upright to draw the long gun around the horizon.

“Clear,” he called again and I heard Ryan’s voice, his hand reaching down to help me from the ground.

“I’d keep your voice down,” he said in a light tone, his brow low as he turned, looking me up and down, mouth forming silent words. I nodded, confirming I was fine.

“What do you know?” said the soldier rounding on us. Ryan moved to block his path, raising his head high like a strutting stag. I smiled within, letting a flutter of laughter rise from my chest as he drew himself up to protect me.

“More than you, it would seem. They can’t drive,” he said, his words slow, head tilting to the side. The soldier narrowed his eyes, leaning forward, looking like he’d done this in a hundred bars around the world, when the other arrived at his side, pulling him away to a huddle for words we couldn’t hear. As he turned back mid conversation, his face lit up as he saw me, eyes widening as the rest of his features narrowed.

He stepped forward, keeping his eyes on mine, a slight smile on his lips, flinching a look at Ryan who flashed a raise of his brow as the soldier stepped past. Stopping a pace away, he brushed his hand through his short blonde hair, narrowing his eyes as he wiped his hand across his mouth.

“Private Jordain,” he said and held his hand out. I smiled, looked to Ryan whose eyebrows were lower than I’d ever seen, looked down to my right hand still ballooning and pushed out my left. Jordain swapped his hands after sucking through his teeth when he saw my injury and gently shook my hand. “Has anyone looked at that?”

“Jess,” I replied shaking my head.

“Can I?” he said and I nodded as my eyes fell on the camouflaged bag strapped to his belt with a dark olive cross in the centre.

I sat back in the passenger seat with my legs dangling out of the van while Jordain took great care checking out my hand, tracing the bones from my wrist to my finger, lightening the pressure each time I winced. As he examined, I watched out across the horizon, the other soldier scouring, his eyes through the rifle’s sight.

“Have you seen any?” I said. His hands paused and he looked me in the eye, shaking his head. “You’ll know when do you, there’s no mistaking.”

He nodded.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” he said, keep it elevated. I laughed. “If you can,” he added. The other soldier called at his back. Ryan cursed.

“They’re attracted to noise. They’ll be here soon. The gunfire,” he said catching my eye. I nodded, jumping down from the seat as we stood in a square, our backs to each other, covering all points of the compass.

“Why weren’t you evacuated?” said Jordain.

“We’ve got a job to do,” I said. 

“What job?” said the other soldier and I turned just as Jordain jabbed him in the back with his elbow, pointing to the three burgundy letters on the side of the van. “Oh,” he replied, turning, his eyebrows raising as if he’d caught my eyes for the first time. “Oh,” he said again.

“Where are you going?” Jordain said.

“St Buryan Hospital,” I said after a pause, holding my breath for their response. Their reply was instant, but not with words. I heard them turn, Ryan and I twisted around and we all faced each other. I could see the tension in Ryan’s fists, could feel mine in the rising beat in my chest, but their rifles still pointed to the ground, their faces open, surprised at my words.

“That’s our FOB,” Jordain replied, the other nodding.

“FOB?” Ryan replied.

“Forward operating base,” I said, the words flowing out, leaving the soldiers to nod, trying to hide their surprise.

“But there may be a problem,” the other soldier said. The pair looked at each other, faces turning stern. Jordain stepped back, sweeping his eyes across the horizon before returning to the square.

“Our Oppos went back to collect more concrete blocks in the HIAB, but we’ve lost contact with them and Buryan.”

“When was this?” Ryan said, stepping closer toward the group. The two soldier’s looked at each other, Jordain pulling up, twisting his wrist to look at a bulky metal watch.

“Three hours ago,” he replied, his eyes catching on mine.

“You should come with us,” I replied, seeing Ryan flinch at the words. The soldiers exchanged glances, turning back when I spoke. “One question though?” I said, looking to the unfinished wall. “Were you building it to keep them in or out?”

As my words finished, the wind blew across my face. I didn’t need to look to the break in the wall, the breeze carrying with it the rancid answer to my question.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

I heard Ryan’s breath stop as the roar of the engine slowed and I opened my eyes, air drawn away from my lungs as I saw the sight, saw the road blanketed in bodies, not a head intact amongst them. Resting my hand on top of Ryan’s, together we pushed the stick back in the gear. I held on as he forced the truck clear, watching the line of water down his face glint in the low sun. With my hand on his shoulder gripping tight, my eyes fixed on his face while he turned the wheel, wincing as the van rolled up and down, the wheels spinning for a moment until they caught and speed built, all the while his eyes were high, trying to block out the worst of the view.

We stopped for a long moment when the ride smoothed out, lingering for a long while not saying a word. He knew without asking I wouldn’t let us drive away, didn’t want to leave these people alone without making a record, without putting their horrific deaths to some good.

As Ryan filmed out of the open back doors, I forced myself to look at every body, to stare at their erased identities and massive wounds. I lingered on flesh turned to pulp from the finger sized bullet, their empty brass cases littering where the van rested. With the final shot panning along the sides of the road, the camera tracing the river of blood long dried in the sun, we pulled the doors up as the first of the young creatures peered around from where we’d left them, driving away as they stumbled to get a footing on the carpet of the dead.

Neither of us talked as the van wound its way around the thin country roads. Neither of us spoke as we travelled barely making a detour in the hour, skirting around road blocks, through fields either side. We weren’t the first, instead following paths smashed through stone walls either side. The going was slow, but we weren’t in a hurry, although my time staring across the horizon kept the bodies of the dead repeating over and again only the glances to the Sat Nav shook the sights away, the dot on the white road, the number in the corner ever decreasing.

It was as the number fell below five miles, we first saw the metal fence circling, our eyes heading to the sky as Ryan slowed us down. For a moment I thought we might have headed in the wrong direction. We saw nothing in the air, instead turned our view to the fence stretching out across the road, curving inward as far as we could see either side.

“Left or right,” Ryan said, his voice devoid of energy, but still I raised a smile. I’d half expected him to turn the van around.

“You choose,” I said. “It won’t be long now.” He manhandled the wheel around climbing up the shallow grass bank to the left.

“What happens when you’ve got what you need?” he said, his eyes fixed forward like mine, following the sweeping  metal, my eyes tracing out deep ruts compressing the stoney mud.

I didn’t hold back my reply for any reason other than I didn’t know. I hadn’t considered a next step, still didn’t want to think of what would happen next. I hadn’t thought I would survive last night without another dose of Toni’s medicine. I didn’t know if I would survive the next. Now wasn’t the time. I’d spotted the end of the fence, a panel yet to be fixed leaning against the side of an olive drab flat-bed truck.

I nodded towards the army vehicle, turning to Ryan, his eyes already set straight.

I expected the body to rise from its lean against the fence when it saw us. Ryan didn’t slow, he’d expected it too, but neither of us anticipated the call from the soldier’s mouth, the hasty reach for the rifle. Neither of us expected another to appear around the side, fingers pulling up his trouser’s fly in a hurry as he searched for a weapon, finding it close at hand.

Ryan slowed at the solder’s demand, his breath remaining calm as I raised my hands to the air. Ryan did the same, but either of us expected the shot which rocked the van, slamming hard, sending shattered dark plastic shards high in to the air as it hit the engine’s grill.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

With the cold blast of air chilling the wet skin around my neck, my eyes leapt open to the truck bathed in light, revealing the blood soaked teeth clamped around the toes of my left foot, hands scratching at my jeans and the other soldier on the first ones back, competing to get passed and rend my flesh.

I felt pressure around my chest, hands interlocking across my breasts, grabbing tight, tugging hard, but I hadn’t moved, the weight of the two creatures and the vice-like grip too much for Ryan to overcome. He let go. Fear flooded through me, he’d given up, he’d decided it was all too much to be around me, too demanding. He could survive alone much better. But no, he was at my side, climbing up, his struggle sounding out from his lungs like a foghorn.

I screamed again, a long high pitch I couldn’t hold back as my toes crushed, vision blurring, going dark as I closed my eyes, nausea rising as I slumped backwards, dangling over the edge.

My senses exploded as the gun went off, the release instant before the echo died. The second explosion so much quieter. I was already on the ground, the pain in my shoulder taking my notice as I slumped.

He was by my side helping me up sooner than I’d expected, sitting me with my back to the hard metal of the truck without me realising.

“Can you stand?” he said, the concern in his voice secondary only to his urgency. I nodded, letting him help me up as I tested pressure on my left foot. I could walk, slowly, but could travel forward, which had been more than I expected. I followed Ryan’s gaze to the coach and the heads butting against the glass as we passed slowly, their touch leaving bloody shadows. So many times I flinched against the pressure, expected the glass to spray over, forcing us to have to run for our lives again. Instead the creatures moved along with us, following inside, not fighting one another, but bumped together like they didn’t see each other, had no consideration there was anyone else, anything else in existence as driven to feast on our flesh.

Arriving at the coach’s flimsy doors, Ryan held my arm tighter, hurrying me past, my eyes on the gap growing wider with every surge from the other side.

“Can we get through?” he said, jumping into the driver’s seat as he let me down softly the other side.

I stared on through the windscreen. I’d forgotten what I’d seen as I stared through the truck’s blood dripping glass, but again the vision was as clear as if still in the moment.

“Yes,” I said, nodding, my eyes fixed of the doors of the coach as they snapped open both sides. The plastic pushed open under the pressure and the creatures who’d lived such short lives, fell to the floor, faces hitting the road, not flinching, eyes not taken from the van and us inside. One by one they struggling to get up, despite more of a similar youth falling onto their backs until they could just step off and start their journey towards us.

After checking the van doors were locked and the windows were closed, the engine roared to life and we rolled. Ryan’s face hardening, his eyes tightened together, mouth bunching as each of the black veined faces disappeared below the view one by one until our bumper nudged against the back of the truck.

He looked at me and I turned his way, trying to ignore the faces past him, trying to ignore the marks left behind as bloody hands slapped against the window. I nodded and he revved the engine, slowly letting out the clutch.

We didn’t move, smoke billowed from the engine, the smell of burning plastic clawed inside our noses and I coughed, Ryan copying my action despite his best efforts, knowing to open the windows would be even more unpleasant. I could see he was about to let up, to let the engine relax and push the gear into reverse, when we moved forward. It was slow at first, but progress had started.

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore what would happen the other side of the truck as we rolled, not wanting to see its rise and fall as we pushed on relentless. Opening my eyes, I saw Ryan steering us close to the coach to despatch the creatures following, crushing their heads when the pressure grew too much. I closed my eyes to the sound of cracking bone, the faces gone from the window, nausea drawing up from my throat.

On hearing Ryan’s intake of breath I knew the time had come to open my eyes, to see what I knew would be the other side, but even as we edged forward, I struggled to bring myself to face the view again, despite knowing from his quickening breath, Ryan had taken in the full horror.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

Flinching away, falling, I pushed my eyes wide as my good hand grasped for something to hold, something to pull up, to strike out with. Ignoring the stars pinging across my vision, a clawed hand shot from the right to block my view as I collapsed, rolling left, falling between the seats, stunned, eyes fixed on the hand grasping through the missing clear partition. My back crunched into the cubes of glass, but despite my vision still stained with what I’d seen through the blood-smeared windscreen, I scrabbled backward across the line of seats in the dark to the strobe of light flashing as hands reached through the covering. No longer paying attention to the pain in my hand, adrenaline compensating, I reached the canvas where I’d entered and pushed against it hard with my back. It bowed outward but still left me trapped.

Breath drew in shallow and fast. I couldn’t tell left from the right, couldn’t tell from which side I’d entered. I’d turned, scratching at the canvas, still ignoring the pain, but it stayed firm, despite my frustration. I called out, my words getting weaker. His name ringing out, all the while knowing he would be too far away, he would be where I’d told him to stay, not close enough rip open the cover, to free me from the heat beating down inside the dark greenhouse.

My face dripping with sweat and about to stand, to push against the canvas, light flashed on for longer than it had before and I glanced around fearful, but excited to see Ryan saving the day. Instead I saw a gruesome head in the light, its face patched dark, soon joined by another as I stared, captivated by the dead soldier falling through the gap, its gnashing teeth energised by my panic.

I backed up, turned, forcing my trainers to kick out at the stiff canvas. Breath ran away, darkness descending as the first of the creatures fell through the partition, the sheet of olive drab covering the window, obscuring my only light. I screamed, the feminist inside me dying a little, but those concerns were nothing in the moment. I couldn’t see its advance, but its crawl was as clear as if I could, the scrabble over the canvas seat, the trickle of the glass to the floor as it follow in my journey. I screamed again even though I knew it would just remind the creature of my location, even though it was already so close, the stench of death I would never get used to stingy my lungs, bile rising as I coughed between gasps of air.

Why had Ryan listened? Why had he done as I asked and not followed me into danger, at least he could have stood to the side ready to help? Amid my panic I saw the faces of my parents, saw my colleagues in their buildings around the world, the buildings they thought they would be safe in, with the twenty-four-hour security guards and thick concrete walls. But how wrong they were. The army couldn’t protect us from these creatures, most of them were the enlisted. I’d yet to see a battle where we had won, where the mental jar of the creature’s appearance didn’t cause us to pause, didn’t stop us from striking out, didn’t prevent wasting those first precious moments.

They were relatively easy to defend against, if only you knew you had to protect yourself, if only you didn’t stand there transfixed, eyes wide trying to figure out if the creature from so many horror movies was real and how could it exist. Their main advantage was forcing us to kill our friends and family if we wanted to survive. If only people knew they were already long dead.

Chocking down a deep breath, I balled my fist, knowing it would be of little use, but at least I would go down trying, pausing my thought as I wandered if what I’d just felt was its rancid breath blowing across my face.

Light came from the front of the truck, the other creature falling through, but I barely took notice as I saw the first soldier, half his face covered in blood, nearly on me. Throwing myself back against the canvas in a vain hope it would give way, but I wasn’t surprised when didn’t. Instead I kicked out my legs, grabbing on to whatever I could in the dark, gripping tight to anchor myself down, ignoring the pain in my bulging hand. My foot made contact. Kicking again, harder this time, spurred on by the slap of my sole against something giving way each time I connected.

Another shot, followed quickly by my other foot, both hitting home, the creature snarling as it took the blows. I imagined its mouth lashing out, lips curled. I kicked again, following through with my left, then pulling back for another volley, I realised my foot was trapped, the pressure on my toes immense as tried to throw my legs left and right. The muffled sounds of effort told me what I already knew. My foot had clamped in the creature’s mouth. I felt the scratch of fingers, nails scraping down my jeans. I pushed my right foot out as hard as I could, but it sailed through the air not making contact. I closed my eyes, the intense pain in my foot sapping all my energy. This was it.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

I didn’t ask for her meaning, knew she’d turned and knew with her went my chance to question. I knew from the rhythm of her feet padding on the hard ground she was running in the opposite direction. I knew from her words she’d told the truth; the truth being what I’d sought. I’d done my job, fulfilled my role, explored my passion to expose wrong and those in authority abusing their positions, but it hurt no less to know such a big part of my life had been false. To know what I had given, tried to give, had been taken, chewed and thrown away.

I questioned if there had been signs of her disfunction, had blind feelings put those down to quirks of personality? I wandered if Hitler’s companions had done the same?

I tried to stop my breath flinching at the comparison.

Turning, I didn’t look after. She had every right to leave, to turn down a role in my task, my goal which could end so badly for me, for everyone. Who knew?

My eyes fell on Ryan, a smile lifting my lips to see him stood on top of the van, his hand shielding his eyes from the bright morning as he peered across the blocked road.

“Can we make it?” I said calling toward the roof as I walked back, knowing one way or another I was getting through the mess. He didn’t reply and I imagined the thoughts spread across his features. Imagined him scratching his head as I walked along the side of the van, my eyes elsewhere other than the movement in the coach frenzying as a drew nearer, elsewhere other than the slight rock of the olive drab truck in a slow side-to-side rhythm.

“Jess,” I heard him call as I neared the coach, only giving the rattle of the door the barest notice, ignoring the slight parting of the clear plastic as the short bodies clambered to be the first to break through, the first to pierce my flesh, the first to fill themselves. I paid more attention to the paint scraped down its side, the buckled panels, black scuffs running the white length until blocked by the back of the truck. I listened, tried to feel, to sense behind the canvas, what lay behind of the musty green cover. The truck rocked with a gentle movement, but the canvas didn’t bulge, didn’t pulse with hands reaching out.

I heard Ryan’s steps down the ladder, feet landing to the road and I lifted my hand behind me, palm out to stop him from getting any closer. When I could no longer hear his steps along the road, I moved my hand back, unpicking the ties with good fingers, taking in a deep breath as I lifted. It was dark inside, nothing came from where I couldn’t see, no fingers jumped out, clawing for the softness of my eyes. I undid enough ties for me to fit through and I climbed, awkward with only one hand to steady, but I’d made it into the back still alive, unbitten.

Welcoming the musty air, I blinked, testing my vision with each opening, the four rows of seats lining the sides and centre grew clearer in my vision with each opening. They were empty, but the space between was not, instead lined with boxes stacked higher than the rows where soldiers should have sat. I climbed on the nearest long rectangular box, plastic, but couldn’t be sure, my thoughts elsewhere, beads of sweat forming across my forehead as the morning sun trapped under the canvas. I headed forward, slowly sliding on my knees, eyes fixed on the edges of light toward the front.

Air pulled sharp between my teeth, forcing myself steady with both hands as my knee found the space between two boxes. I wouldn’t let it slow me as I bridged the gap and my hand soon felt the flap of canvas I hoped covered a window to the cab.

Reaching out with my left hand, I told myself I’d seen the worst. I tried to prepare for the horror I knew moved beyond the thin fabric, beyond the glass the other side. I told myself the worst I could see was traffic lined up blocking the road, ending our path, sending us for hours around another way. Blood and guts were nothing new. No injury could top what had already burnt into my dreams.

I took a deep breath before lifting the fabric. A pale pink light flashed my eyes shut, but as the image went to black, I’d seen enough to regret not bringing the gun.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

“What did you say?” I said spinning around to find her standing peering past me to the block in the road, the knife scraping around the inside of the tin.

“You need to go the other way,” she said, dropping the can to the thin table mounted to the side of the van.

“No,” I said stepping forward. “What did you say about the doctor? What do you know about Toni?”

She raised her left eyebrow, her eyes meeting mine for the first time as she licked the meat from the tip of the knife. Letting her right hand and the knife drop, with her left hand she swept hair from her face one side, then the next, tilting her head, before catching one last glance through the windscreen. Nodding forward, she spoke.

“That’s where they were going,” she said. “That’s where I don’t want to be.”

“Who?” I said. She narrowed her brow.

“The Doctors,” she replied. I took a step toward her, my heart pulsing in my ears and my swollen hand.

“What do you know about the doctors?” I said, voice raised. She lifted her brow, pulling herself up to full height, which was only just a little shorter than my five foot ten. “Speak, for goodness’ sake,” I shouted when she didn’t reply. Her chest thrust forward as she filled her lungs, her hand gripped hard around the knife. “I’m sorry,” I added, pushing out my palms. “They did things to me, the doctors,” I said softening my tone. “I need to find them. Make them pay.” I watched as her brow fell forward, lips covering her teeth. “How do you know the Doctors? Did they do things to you?” She squinted, her forehead creasing, fingers tightening around the knife handle again. I took another step. “You don’t have to say, just tell me what you know. Tell me where they are.”

The van moved, rolling, but in the wrong direction. I turned back to see the coach and the truck receding in the view.

“No,” I shouted, jumping the few steps to back within the seats. “No,” I repeated. “We have to find a way round. What if this is our only way of getting through, it could take hours to go another way, even if we can find an empty road?” The van rocked to a stop with Ryan silent, just his frown voicing his discontent with the plan, but the light coming from behind and the click of the lock span my attention around to the back.

I raced through the open doors, jumping to the tarmac as the woman ran down the road, she’d left one bag behind and soon dropped the last as I called after.

“Please, I need to know.” I watched on as she slowed, her head turning over her shoulder, her eyes falling from me to the bag and its contents spilt on the floor at my feet. She kept on walking. I sobbed, quickly turning back to make sure Ryan had done nothing stupid like getting out of the van and following. Picking up the bag I let the tears fall to the tarmac as I lifted the tins of food and pushed them back into the bag.

A breath sucked in hard as two dirty trainers arrived at the top of my vision. I stood up straight, wincing with the pain, offering out the full bag as I tried to draw my tears away with a deep breath. She stood in front of me with a crisp white handkerchief offered in her hand. The tears stopped, my face relaxing as I set the bag down between us, taking the folded square from her dirt clogged hand and dabbed at the moisture on my cheeks.

“Thank you,” I replied, her eyes staring as I wiped my face.

“Why do you want to find them?” she said, her soft voice nearly lost in the wide open space. “They’re terrible people. The worst.”

“I’m a reporter,” I said.

“I know,” she replied.

“I was in love with Toni,” I said.

“I know,” she said, nodding. I ignored her reply, putting it down to exposure, tiredness or maybe hunger.

“They did bad things to me,” I said. Still she nodded.

“They did bad things to many people,” she replied.

“They did this,” I said, sweeping my hands across the view, taking in the columns of smoke.

“I know,” she replied. “But what are you trying to achieve?”

“I want the world to know what they did, what they’re doing so they can be stopped, so people can prepare. I want to destroy them and make them pay.” She nodded. “Tell me,” I said, knowing the answer before I asked the question. “How do you know all this?” 

“I’ve seen your picture in her office. I’ve seen the grand plan spread across her wall.”

“How?” I replied. She took a deep breath and swallowed down hard.

“I used to be one of them,” she replied, drawing the knife up high, but my brain was too fogged to give any reply.

“What’s she doing at the hospital?” I said, ignoring the glint of the knife raised above my head.

“Collecting samples,” she replied, leaning down to take the bag. I didn’t move, didn’t back away, just stared to the ground, not seeing anything but Toni’s face.

“Samples of what?” I said, the words barely voiced.

“Children who’ve been exposed.”

“Exposed to what?” 

“The virus in the air,” she said, the bag raising through my vision.

“Why children?”

She didn’t reply, instead took a step back.

“Why children?” I repeated looking up.

“Because they’re the future. Right? And they make the best hosts.”

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

Her eyes were wider than I imagined Ryan’s were at my back. Her surprise greater than his when I returned the long knife after what she’d done. Although the pause between us felt like an age, the creatures moving through the doorway had barely taken a step before her decision was made. Surging toward the opening, she soon blocked my view with her wide coat, her arms diving up and down, movement silent except for the slash of the knife as it connected to bone and the heavy fall of the bodies as they went down in quick succession.

Ryan stood at my side and we shared a moment. He’d had no time to put the equipment down, no time to grab the gun from the bed before it was over and she stood beckoning us through the corridor with her fingers in silence as thick blood dripped from the knife. With the gun in my hand, I followed, Ryan behind, laden with the camera and equipment to find her outside scouring the horizon, looking around the side of the building, searching for threats. She nodded towards the van and my eyes fell on the dark blood dripping down the side by the driver’s door, above the wide hole in the metal where the shrapnel had flown out and into Ryan.

I climbed in the back, Ryan insisting I go first and he took the driver’s seat, not starting the engine, instead looking to me for the answer as we watched the woman, the girl which we still didn’t know, slip back in through the open door of the building.

Sat in silence, giving him no cues, my eyes fell across the skyline. Columns of smoke lined the horizon. As my heart slowed I could taste the thickness in the air while watching the rainbow of depressing colour flowing from black to white across the spectrum. The green fields were void of life as they rolled out to disappear where they met the dirty, cloudless sky, the road empty of traffic as it travelled relentless left and right. The image had a certain perfection and I looked towards Ryan about to prompt him to set up the camera, but the girl, the woman, rushed from the building, her arms laden with bags bulging at the edges. She stopped as she spotted us in the van, surprise turning her head to the side, smile dropping from the corners of her mouth. It was clear she’d thought we would have left her and the raise of her eyebrows, eyes glinting with hope as she stared in our direction, broke my heart. Had it only taken a few days, a week at the most, to strip this girl, this woman, of her faith in humanity?

Her features hardened and she let her hair drop back to cover her face while she moved past the van, walking away. I ran through the back, regretting my enthusiasm as I jumped out the doors jarring my hand, but sucked down the pain as I called after her, not holding back my voice.

“Come with us,” I said. She turned, her lips curled up. What I could see of her face twisted feral, but she didn’t linger on mine for long, snapping her head around the view. I shouted again and watched her anger rise and I forced down a smile as I watched movement appear from around the front of the building, but instead of focusing on the chef whose uniform could no longer be called whites, I called again and jumped back in the van.

“Start the engine,” I said and Ryan did as I asked, the grumble of the mechanics coming to life only spurring on the middle aged man with a rend in his great belly. The girl, woman, scowled at me through the glass, but ran to the back, slamming the doors closed after she jumped in, her reluctance obvious in her scowl. Ryan pulled us in a wide arc away from the chef.

“You’re safer with us,” I said joining her as she stood in the back. “We’re safer with you,” I added, pushing my left hand out, my lips in a wide smile. She stood in the corner, clutching the bags to her stomach. “Sit. Eat. We can talk when you’re ready.”

We drove for five minutes before she let the bags drop, before she sat on the floor, pulling out a can of corned beef and turning the key to release the meat. I tried not to watch her, tried to stop my mouth from wanting the food, instead I asked her name again, looking away when she didn’t answer. Soon the van slowed and I called out to the front.

“What is it?” I said, standing when Ryan didn’t answer and we’d drawn to a stop. Arriving between the seats I felt the blood drain from my face as I stared on at the white coach wedged side by side with an olive green truck. Together they blocked the narrow road and despite the dark interior, I watched the writhing masses inside.

My heart jumped as a delicate voice spoke from behind, nearly fainting as I processed the words.

“We’re going the wrong way. We’re supposed to be getting away from the Doctor Lytham and her mother.”

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

I gripped the tin of beans bulky in my hand, my wrist weighed down by the chain hanging heavy. With the footsteps getting near I daren’t raise the tin high, afraid the rattle of the metal links would advertise my presence. Breath caught in my lungs as I heard another sound, the drag of something bulky along the floor behind each echoing step. My mind raced to form the worst pictures inside my head.

Searching left and right, desperate to find a space to hide, somewhere to give cover which I’d overlooked all this time, but no matter how my eyes flitted around the clearing, no miraculous safe room appeared for me to enter. Movement flashed into view through the doorway and I raised the can, the chains alive with song as I released towards the figure, the cuffs tight against my wrists, snapping back at the full extent of my reach. The can bounced off the torso, splitting against the tiles, tomato sauce flooding the floor as it skidded to a stop.

I stood open-mouthed, Ryan lifting his head as if struggling to raise, the first stage of a bruise reddening his left cheek. My eyes followed down his arms, skipping from the gun in his right to the bundle of heavy clothes held in his left, a mop of mousey brown hair falling around his hand as he held the bundle by the scruff of a jacket, a trail of blood in their wake.

I backed away until the chain would let me go no further, fear raging through my chest, until his eyes sought mine across the room, wide and seeking my attention. Ryan threw the gun to my bed and bent down, turning the sack over, sweeping the hair to reveal a young woman’s dirty face.

Breath held in my lungs until I remembered to pull deep, watching as he bent over, sliding up his left jeans leg, the bottom of which soaked with blood. He looked up as I peered at the black shard of metal stuck in the side of his ankle, his hand reaching out for the first aid kit beside my bed. I rushed over, the chain rattling as I did and he shook his head, the pain obvious as he pushed his hand to his pocket, pulling the key and swapping it for the open green box.

“What happened?” I said with the key held in my good hand, sticky with his blood drying on my fingers. “I woke and you’d gone. I thought,” I said, but couldn’t continue the words.

He didn’t reply, instead shook his head as he rifled through the contents of the small kit, letting the bandages and dressings spill to the floor. Then as he pulled apart the foil of an antiseptic wipe, he nodded over to the girl who still hadn’t moved.

“Is she okay?” I said, peering over.

“Is she okay,” he replied, the words darting from his mouth.

“You’re fine, looks like a scratch,” I shot back.

He raised his eyebrows, his expression stern. I raised mine back, mimicking his expression until his face melted to a thin smile.

“You were tossing and turning, that bloody chain kept me awake all night. I ended up spending most of it getting the camera to work.” I raised my eyebrows, titling my head to the side and he nodded in reply. “When I finally got to sleep, I woke to the sound of the engine running. I darted out of bed and there was this little shit driving off in the van.”

“You ran after her?” I said, a smile rising. He nodded, turning down to the wound, clenching his teeth as he pulled the jagged triangle of metal, dropping it to the tile with a high clatter. “Luckily she couldn’t get the gears working. I bet she’s never driven before. I caught up with her, yanked the door open.”

“You shot her,” I said, my eyes wide, looking back to the gun as I tried to reach out to check her over, but the chain held me back. 

“No,” he said, his tone defensive. “She tried to grab the gun and we got into a scuffle, it went off, the bullet bouncing off the metal of the van, shrapnel flying into straight into my leg.”

I looked down at the slumped body which still hadn’t moved, raising my eyebrows.

“Yes I hit her. What else could I do?” he replied. “No sooner had the gun gone off when there were creatures coming out of everywhere. I took two out, but I bet there’s more on their way. We should go,” he said, nodding back towards the door.

“If she can’t even drive, then how did she get into the van?” Ryan didn’t reply. “She can’t drive, but she can hot wire?”

He turned his head down, wrapping the bandage around his leg, drawing in sharp air through his teeth.

“I may have left the keys in the ignition last night,” he said, his voice quiet.

I raised my eyebrows, biting my tongue, my joy at his return holding back my outpouring.

“I told you you’ll be fine,” I said. “I thought you’d left,” I said. Ryan looked up, his head turned at an angle, his smile growing. I forced a frown, but it fell, my head darting around to the shutters as they clattered with a heavy bang. We both knew what it meant, especially after the words he’d just finished and together our heads twisted around to the corridor, but stopped as the sack of clothes jumped to the air, the coat unfurling, the long, triangle of a kitchen knife glinting in the sun pouring from the skylights. Her bright blue eyes fixed on the chain, rising to my face full of alarm, then resting on Ryan as she charged forward, her dirt smothered face bunched and the mouth full of white teeth bared as she raised the knife above her head higher with each bound.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

The pain in my hand told me it wasn’t a dream although the dull ache in my swollen fingers had improved from the sharp stab with each pump of my heart before I’d slept. The rattle of the chain as I sat up rang high in my ears confirming it wasn’t the result of chemicals forming pictures in my mind. As did the hunger deep in my belly when I looked around the ruffled blankets where I’d slept to see if he’d at least left me the key.

He hadn’t.

I should have known. Why had a trusted a man like him? Was he always going to do this all along, despite our burgeoning friendship?

I laughed to myself, shaking my head. Was it only a day since we’d met? But my thoughts darkened as the sound of the engine headed further into the distance. Was it his damaged ego which made him leave? The dent in his masculinity when I’d turned him away, when I’d killed any advance before it could cross his mind. Experience told me what thoughts were heavy in his mind. I’d lumped him with all the men I’d spent time with, each of them who saw me as a challenge, a trophy to turn and etch into the bedpost. A fantasy come true if only he could convince me to bring my girlfriend along to his bedroom.

They’re so kind at first, such gentle men like him. He’d saved my life and me his, but how much of it had been an act to get my clothes off and when he found I wasn’t going to fall, he took off. The pressure rose in my chest, the knot in my stomach growing at the thought of him not even unlocking my bounds or leaving me the key. Knowing I would be at the mercy of the first person to come through the door, alive or otherwise.

Since I was a teen I’d needed no one. Never a man before now and I hated Toni even more for putting me in this position. I knew she’d always wanted me in her control. Our fights, the ends of our serene weeks together came, at least partly because I am my own person. I could never be called hers, would never submit myself fully to another, would never end being me until my heart stopped beating in my chest. At least that phrase still has meaning. Although the dead rose, they weren’t the people they were when they’d lived.

Standing, I traced out the semi-circle with the chain fully extended and my arm stretched as far as it would go. I swallowed down the rising bile of anger and tried to reach out for the shelves as the chain links scratched against the pipe jutting to the wall and into the radiator, the metal like an amplifier. Still, I couldn’t reach any of the shelves and none of the useful items my imagination hoped could help me get free.

My eyes fell on one of rugged plastic boxes open by Ryan’s bed and the smallest of the cameras set up on a tripod, the lens pointing down the aisle; the manual resting open between the three legs.

I held my gaze, stopping my movement, taking a deep breath, my head tilting to the side. The space left by the terrible rattle of the chains filling with confused thought.

Why had he worked to figure out the camera when he would do a runner in the morning?

The thoughts fell from my head as I heard a gun shot in the distance, a second coming soon after with the crunch of gears in the distance. A third soon followed with barely a space as another shook through me, my eyes turning to the windows blocked by the shutters. I pulled hard on the chain, yanking till the tension was too much for my wrist, letting it relax, but it hadn’t come loose, didn’t release its grip. I drew a deep breath, holding still, welcoming the silence, my fear for the noise echoing out through the door sending an invitation to all those around. I hoped it wasn’t too late.

I listened out for more gunfire, for engine sounds, trying to keep still, but while looking around. My eyes caught on anything heavy, water bottles, a can of beans still sealed. Anything I could wield one handed, searching for what would give me the best defence against whatever made the slow, heavy footsteps coming from the corridor.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

With the torches dimmed, my eyes closed anyway, his fingers were at the hem of my vest and I slowly lifted my arms as his hands climbed, my skin prickling with heat, goose bumps rushing across my torso and not just because of the cold air licking at my damp skin. The sensation kept my mind from the pain as I lifted both my hands high, sinking to my knees while he lifted the vest over my head, over my arms as he stood behind, throwing the top to the pile with the jacket. I waited, listening to his breath, somehow the calm air still brushing across my body, licking away the last of the moisture, my skin alive with sensation, every inch prickling with electricity.

“Your bra?” he said, his words slow, punctuated with a heavy swallow and an abrupt finish. The deepness of his voice forced a pull of breath and I shook my head, standing, remembering the darkness.

“I’m not,” I said and he apologised.

“Oh,” he said to the rip of plastic as he pulled the t-shirt from its packet. I knelt in front of him and I opened my eyes, my breath catching in my throat as I could see his outline, his eyes looking away, head shaking. The room was brighter than I’d been expecting, I could see more detail than I thought possible. So could he. I didn’t care where the soft light came from. I knelt, my hands still to the air and looked up as he concentrated, guiding the fabric first over my bad hand, relaxing only when it had cleared, pulling it over the other.

I stood, letting my hands relax, he took one side of the hem and I took the other. Together we pulled down the top slowly, my breath catching as electricity sparked from my pronounced nipples as the fabric snagged as it passed. The rest I could manage, and I let the skirt drop, my hand hovering at the band of my knickers, but I didn’t know why, did not understand how my mouth curled, why I’d bitten down light on my bottom lip. Ryan stared at my silhouette, my shadow looked back, eventually he bent to the side and pulled a pair of fresh underwear from the pile.

“Do you?” he said. I held back my reply, swallowing down my thoughts, confusion at my body’s reaction clouding my mind.

“No, thank you. It’s fine,” I said and took the cotton from his hand and disappeared behind a shelf to finish dressing, waiting longer than it took, taking time to search my thoughts, to resolve the feelings rippling in my head.

“Thank you,” I replied, trying to ignore my disappointment he’d already changed as I arrived back to the clearing, the candles flickering as he stood by his bed.

We sat and ate cold beans from cans without talking, but I didn’t care, each mouthful soothing my pain as I listened to the air void of sound other from my companion eating. Tiredness fogged my thoughts. I hadn’t slept since I didn’t know when and I could feel myself drifting, eyes heavy, my heart beat rising at the thought.

“You need to tie me up,” I said. Ryan sat straight, not giving a reply. “I need to sleep,” I said, but he didn’t get my meaning, his brain frozen on the words. “It’s not safe to be around me. You need to tie me up in case I can’t control myself.”

I felt frustration bubbling in my belly, at least I hoped it was the reason for the feeling. Ryan sat up straight trying to force his smile down.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” I said, the raise of my voice seemed to echo out. “Women are my thing, right,” I said lowering my tone. “You’re safe from my advances, but if the medicine I’ve already had isn’t enough, then you won’t know what hit you.”

With my words his face fell and he stood, disappearing out of the light. I closed my eyes, letting go of a deep breath, using my good hand to rub the water from my eyes.

I heard him before I saw his shape in the light. Heard the rattle of the chain before I saw its gleam in the flicker of the candle, the cuff already around my good wrist, the empty bracelet ready to clip to the free ends once its length had encircled the pipes leading up to the radiator on the far wall.

With the bracelets fixed he didn’t say a word and I lay down, turning back and forth to find comfort and closed my eyes, hoping I would see the morning with the same perspective. Knowing I was in his hands if I survived the night intact. Knowing with my good hand tied, I would defenceless against his or anything else’s advance. My last thoughts couldn’t help but wander if I should have let him down with a little less volume. It wasn’t his fault he was the latest in a long line of people who thought they could change my programming.

In the blink of an eye I opened my eyes. The room was the same, but different in every way with daylight pouring from the skylights I hadn’t noticed last night. An engine revved too hard close by, but it was clear it was moving away. I turned for Ryan to shout for him to wake, to call out so he would know someone was stealing the van, but his hand-build bed was empty, the gun missing from where it had rested at his side. If this wasn’t a dream, I’d made it through the night, but if this wasn’t just inside my head, I’d not only scared away my cameraman, he’d abandoned me and left me for dead.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

“We have to do it now. We have to,” I said as Ryan arrived at my back.

A huff of air from his lungs was his only response as I felt him trying to peer past my shoulder.

“Your medicine?” he said and I gave a shallow nod. He kept quiet, not replying for a long moment. “How long have you got?”

“I have no idea,” I replied. Closing my eyes I tried to relax, tried to slow the thoughts racing through my head. How long did I have? How did I feel? I asked myself without speaking. The hunger was obvious, a sensation I’d learnt to dread, but the emptiness in my stomach wasn’t alone, accompanied with a deep pain in my chest and a vacant chasm where blood pushed out across my body.

“What can I do?” Ryan said, his voice solemn.

“We should go,” I replied with no time between the words.

“It’s too dangerous at night. We’ll end up in a ditch on the side of the road or in the middle of nowhere with no chance of help. Is that how you want it to end?”

I stood on the spot, taking in his words. I had to go. I had to be next to Toni when it was all over, but I didn’t want Ryan near me when the end came. The plan formed as the thoughts scattered across my brain. I would wait for him to leave to pick the lock. When the door opened and he was safely inside, I’d take the van and hope I could make it as far as the hospital. I knew she’d welcome me in, knew she’d be grateful to see me and then I’d change, I’d let myself go, let the resistance drop, go all the way without holding myself back. She’d be my first victim, then I’d end it all.

Opening my eyes, I turned to Ryan.

“Never mind,” I said. “Let’s get inside,” and watched as he smiled, turned, picking up the lock picks and handcuffs before opening the window, peering either side for a moment. Soon at the door, he concentrated on the lock as I moved to the driver’s seat watching left and right for visitors, practicing in my mind what I would do when I saw him disappear through the door.

The door opened before I’d thought it all through. He’s skilled, but I wasn’t sure it was something which deserved a compliment. Now was the time and I went to put my hands on the steering wheel, but had to stifle the scream as pain reminded me of how stupid my plan had been.

Ryan was back out, his face beaming, eyebrows twitching when he saw the grit of my teeth as he opened the door.

“You okay?” he said and I nodded. “You’ll love this place,” he added, forcing himself to keep his voice low.

I drew a deep breath, pushing up my on-camera smile and let him help me down the tall step, let him guide me through the door as he pointed a torch out in front.

Ryan saw a corridor with doors to the left and right.

I saw the radiators clinging to the walls, wandering if the pipes would be strong enough to hold the cuffs as I tried to rip my hands free.

Ryan saw the store room packed with rows of boxes on shelves. I saw the door banded with steel, trying to figure out where the owners lept the key and if the windows were reinforced enough to keep Ryan safe in the night.

Ryan saw rows of shelves containing boxes of food, much like a supermarket, racks of clothes on rotary hangers, giant numbers corresponding to multipack boxes at their side. I saw the lack of bolts holding the steel to the concrete floor, knowing I would pull it free, knowing I would drag it behind me when I turned.

“It’s great, isn’t it?” he said, then looked back, almost skipping the way we’d come, pointing to a row of torches hanging on shelves by their fabric cords as he passed.

“Yeah great,” I said, my underwhelming words quiet once he’d gone. “A great place to die,” I said, scanning the shelves, not taking any notice of what I’d seen.

I wandered through the isles, catching sight across the shelves as Ryan made trips outside, his eyes finding mine each time he came through the door carrying the plastic equipment boxes from the back of the van. After locking the door closed, he toured the aisles, his white smile beaming as he bundled blankets, food and water in to his arms before heading to the back of the shop floor. After what must have been half an hour he found me, carrying two lit torches in his hand, passing one over whilst guided me to the rear. I couldn’t stop my mouth forming a smile as I he shined his torch beam on the nest he’d been building.

He’d cleared away racks of clothes, pushed them to the side. In the space cleared he’d piled ten or more blankets on the floor, forming two rectangular beds, both spaced a good distance apart. Around each bed he’d placed unlit candles, batteries and boxes of food beside bottles of water and a first aid kit resting on the top of the bed to the left. My eyebrows raised at the jeans and t-shirt spread in the centre and I twisted, raising my eyebrows.

“Risky business,” I said.

“Huh,” he replied.

“Choosing a lady’s clothes,” I said and couldn’t help but let a gentle laugh trickle after.

“We should change first,” he said, his voice quiet and nervous as he watched my eyes raise until I winced lifting my hand from my chest. “I can,” he said then stopped, filling the air with a pause. “I can help if you don’t mind,” he said, the words slow and broken. “I could turn the lights off?”

His words caught me by surprise. Well, not the words themselves, but my body’s reaction. In the silence I could hear his breath, hear mine too, but I hoped he couldn’t sense the sudden race of the engine in my chest.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

“Get the camera out,” I said, turning to Ryan. He pushed the brake pedal and we rocked to a stop, staring back open-mouthed. “We’ve got to film this, we’ve got to let people know. This is how we can help, this is how we can make a difference.” He looked on, staring wide eyed, his only reaction was to turn away, wiping his mouth with his right hand, taking a hard swallow.

“This is worse than we could have imagined,” he said. “I thought back there, I thought it could be the end of this. I thought it was over.” 

I nodded. 

“So did I,” I said, sliding along the seats, twisting toward him and placing my left hand on his shoulder, sucking back the pain as I shuffled. “There’s no dressing it up. This couldn’t be worse, it could be the end of the country, the end of the world, but we could give people a change if they can prepare, but they have to know what’s going on first. We could have a chance if those responsible were stopped from doing whatever it was they were trying to do.” If only I could live through the night without killing you, I didn’t say. He looked to my hand as it drifted down his arm. I pulled away, watching his brow lower. “We need to tell the world,” I said, ashamed of the pleading in my tone. “We need to find her and tell everyone what she’s done.”

He didn’t reply straight away, his eyes turning back to the road, fixing on the child’s body laying alone, then up to the creature passing between the blocks, its white eyes fixed square on our windscreen.

Ryan nodded, not turning to meet me.

“But not here. We need to keep safe, need to find somewhere to rest, get out of these wet clothes, find food and figure out how these fucking cameras of yours work.”

I looked out through the windscreen. He was right. There would be plenty of time to get some decent footage. I didn’t complain as the wheels rolled, instead forced myself to look at the child, to take in her pale cold face. Forcing the sight to my memory so I could describe her in great detail when I got on the air.

We varied our journey many times to avoid roadblocks found at almost every turn and the congregating dead walking along the line of hemmed-in cars, watching the number in the corner of the Sat Nav rise and fall, the sun sinking in the sky with each passing moment. Whilst in the back of my head a thought I couldn’t put my finger on nagged heavy and despite all my efforts I couldn’t pinpoint its source. After two hours we’d cleared ten miles, when we should have been in the hospital carpark setting up the camera, instead we were watching from so far away as the sun touched the horizon.

When eventually we came across a lone cottage on the side of the road, we both agreed without words we should stop and do the things we knew we should, but both soon decided without conversation this wasn’t the place when we saw the long line of blood covering the path leading up to the front door.

Darkness had fallen not long after, leaving only our headlights, the stars and the moon half bright in the sky. Ryan drove slowly knowing we had no spare tyre, the road so often littered with debris and cars abandoned at the side, pushed at rough angles down ditches and into hedges to clear a path. With little other choice, he pulled the van into the car park of a wide single storey white building, the headlights bright on it sign across the front, giving more than a flutter of optimism at the words ‘Cash and Carry’ in yellow on the dark board.

We drove around the perimeter slowly, turning the wheels to shine the headlights across every surface. The shutters at the front were down, but two wooden rear doors looked like they wouldn’t present Ryan with much of a challenge, if he was any good. Parking around the back to the nearest side door, Ryan emptied his pockets, searching for what, he didn’t say, but placed a brown leather wallet on the seat between us, a frown drawing on his face as in his left hand he pulled a thin metal screwdriver and the handcuffs I’d told him to bring along.

The realisation sparked through my head as I saw the metal bracelets. It had the medicine nagging my thoughts and I stood, my rise pulling at every aching nerve in my hand. I pushed between the seats into the back of the van, jabbing the light switch above my head and saw the vile, or what was left, the red liquid soaked into the carpet, drying around the broken glass edges and knew this would be my last night on earth.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

The fingers of my right hand jarred against something cold and hard, curling around before I knew what it was, bringing it up before I could move my head, leaving my coordination alone to draw the rock down on the wide jaw sending its head twisting around. With a second blow, my heels pushed hard to get a grip, the rock smashing against its temple, the thick blood spraying out the least of my concerns. The charred animal went down, falling on top of me, its heavy head slapping to my empty belly, sending a wave of pain and nausea up through my throat, but I was more concerned to feel for its teeth unpicking my flesh.

When the pain didn’t sear through my once white vest, I knew it was out cold, or dead. I had no time to think about whether they had a consciousness to come out of. Two charcoaled creatures took its place in the attack, one either side with their hands out in front, lip-less mouths wide as they mashed their teeth. I threw the rock at the head of the one to the left, regretting as soon as my fingers released, the rock bouncing harmless from the side of its face, landing with a thump to my stomach and forcing the wind from my chest as my hands flailed left and right, pushing and shoving whilst trying to keep clear of both sets of mouths.

My hand slapped hard against a flash of white to my right, the pain radiating up my arm feeling bones broken into too many bits, stars in my eyes as I shook my head. There was only one row of assailants left, the right side clear, but I couldn’t tell how many had vanished, the one handed defence taking all my will. White flashed again, but this time to the left, the black of the creature attacking silhouetted against white, the large letters so well recognised hovering above its head.

With the slam of a door, Ryan appeared at my side, the creature punched in the head, then twice more. Ryan bent down and my ears exploded with noise and I was up in the air on my feet, pushed in through the open passenger door into the warmth. The van bounced over the ground as my hand throbbed nestled against my chest.

Breath settling, I watched the strewn bodies lifeless, but they had been before, now the word held new meaning. The bodies were still, except for one which some had power over its arms, the only bones able to hold weight. I watched as we drove past the abandoned flat tyre, the block of wood Ryan must have found in the back to rest the jack on top of, stopping it disappearing as he lifted the weight. The sky was clear until I peered over to the village where the wind blew the thick smoke in the opposite direction changing the bright daylight to night as it seemed there wasn’t a single part of the horizon not burning, not smouldering. I took hope in the strategy. The bombing had worked, despite our breach in their containment. There were no undead still walking.

Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of the end.

The pain had dulled by they time we were back on the smooth tarmac, my eyes scouring the horizon, scouring the sky for movement, for any sign of the living, for any sign of the dead.

“Thank you,” I said. 

“No need,” he replied. “You gave me the time I needed. I’m sorry about the hand. How is it?”

I looked down, afraid of what I’d see, but it wasn’t deformed or out of shape. The skin was darkening underneath and swelling up as I watched. I tried a tentative movement. My fingers wiggled slow, which was as brave as I got.

“I don’t think it’s broken, but it fucking hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

“Rather the pain, than being dead.” 

He didn’t reply, instead placed the gun he’d left resting on his lap, to the seat in between us and fixed his face forward.

“What now?” he eventually said as he slowed for a T-junction with no signs showing the way.

“St Buryan,” I said, pulling out the Sat Nav from the glove compartment, handing it over to Ryan after trying to turn it on with my left hand.

He nodded and found the town, letting the mini computer choose the route, taking the left road as the van rolled slowly forward, the numbers in the corner falling from sixty as we did.

“We’re stopping for a change of clothes too,” he said and I closed my eyes, the thought of the candlelit bath coming into focus. “And painkillers and food.”

I let a smile bloom on my lips as we rolled slowly down the narrow country road only just wide enough for the white lines to mark the two lanes, but it fell as Toni’s image appeared in my mind. Her bruised face, the emptiness in my stomach when I first saw her in that place, the sound of her voice as she made the call which brought me here, which tempted me back to her. I’d fallen all the way down the rabbit hole at her command. She’d called me for help, said she needed me, but was it really the reason I came, or was it the want of a story.

Ryan’s voice saying my name turned me away from the window I stared as if with my lids shut. I drew my eyes back to road and saw another junction, this time leading four ways. I looked to the little screen, saw we wanted to head straight over, but giant concrete cubes blocked the way and even if we could get passed, cars parked the other side with their doors open, boot lids high, glass missing from the windows. Bodies lay across the road, I counted more as the van trundled on, slowing within each passing moment.

I saw soldiers, civilians and a tear caught in my eye as I watched a young body in a red top, its colour leeching to the road. My eyes caught on a column of black smoke rising in the distance, then on another, five more fires scattered across the view, but it wasn’t until I saw a figure walking towards us from between the cars, a line of blue seen through the great hole in their once pristine white coat, that the emptiness returned to my stomach and I closed my eyes.

“Oh my god Toni. What had you done?”

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

At my command, it seemed at first, an explosion lit up the back end of the undead procession. Disintegrated flesh went skyward in a foul spray, the pieces slapping down to the ground in a shower I could only use my forearm to protect against. Ignoring the stench of burnt flesh, I looked up the drone now clear in my view. I wanted to wave at the pilots, wanted to see their faces so I could thank them, shake their hands, put them on camera to tell the nation not to worry because they were on the case, wanted to tell everyone they had our backs even though they were in no danger of contracting the terrible disease themselves.

As I watched with those thoughts running through my head, I looked back to the trail and counted what remained, raising a laugh because now I only had to put down two with each of my shots. I stepped back, waiting for the next launch to even the odds, ready to turn and take cover from the spray of barbecued stink. The whine of the drone’s engine changed as I counted and my heart fluttered, my optimism in danger of draining even before I twisted up to the sky. I saw its grey underbelly as it turned away, its thin wings empty of the missiles which could cut the odds to something more manageable, like one or two for me to despatch.

Pulling in a deep breath, I glanced behind, but turned away at Ryan’s frustration, the jack ripped from the under the van as he released it to stop it from sinking through the grass with each turn of the handle. I closed my eyes, letting my breath free, drawing another though my nose, regretting as I did, but not stopping, stubbornness forcing me to endure the foul air. Opening my eyes, I bit back the surprise as I saw they’d been closing the gap for longer than I thought, the creatures so much closer, two seconds more and they’d be in arms reach. I had to give Ryan time and lots of it, so I ran at a right angle, heading deeper to the moor, watching their heads for a decision, watching what remained of their minds choose who would be on the buffet. I forced the decision, firing off a shot which glanced off the lead creature’s shoulder, increasing the number I would need to kill with each remaining round as its blood sprayed in lumps on its shorter companion, the rest of its individuality destroyed by the raging fires.

I had to slow my backwards walk, the ground unsteady, my first few stumbles too much for my heart to take. A second shot reassured those whose decisions were waning. I am the tastier treat and took out the twice-baked creature, causing its following companion to fall over, giving welcome time to catch my breath.

With one eye on the rising van, I led them further away, my mind turning to the water still in my trainers, the dampness running through my clothes and the rub of harsh fabric on the seams of my skin. What I wouldn’t give for a rest, a cat nap then maybe a shower, or a soak in a bath surrounded by scented candles, drying myself with a fluffy warm towel and stepping into dry clothes not covered in decaying human flesh. I thought of Toni, her smile as she knelt down beside the bath, her fingers dancing on the surface of the water, promising her touch.

I stumbled back, twisting around to see what had caught my foot, my hands wheeling through the air, the pistol heavy until it fell. At first I thought it was a judge’s wig, then I saw its belly wide open, the great rend surrounding a cavity picked clean of the organs which should have been inside, blood and dark gristle clinging to the woollen edges. All this seen before my ass hit the grass, sending a jarring pain shooting up through my spine, freezing my body with panic as I looked to the cloudless blue sky, all too soon interrupted with a blackened, bald head rearing down, its yellowed teeth pocking out from burnt gums, snapping open and closed. My eyes fixed on the pink of its tonsils as the sky blotted out, my hands blind as they swept the ground either side for the gun they just couldn’t find.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

“We’re stuck,” he said. “We’re clinging to the fence,” he added, urgency raising the words as I turned with heavy eyes, mouth hanging open.

“Really?” I said twisting back as I dipped the clutch, pulling my foot from the accelerator.

“How?” he said.

“I don’t know,” I replied, my words loud, lowering only as I swore under my breath. A distant memory of a snowy day flooded into my concentration, the one week of iced water falling from the sky we’d get every five years blotted out the moan, the scrape of fingers down the window. I’d booked a driving lesson not knowing the forecast and with my test only around the corner, I was keen to be out on the road as much as I could. I wanted to cancel, my parents wanted me to cancel, but my driving instructor insisted it was an excellent opportunity for specialised practise. So I drove along, inching down the roads like I had a case of eggs on the back seat, but still I got stuck in the centre of a quiet road not visited by the ploughs. It was inevitable when the wheels turned and we went nowhere no matter how hard I pushed the accelerator.

I tried to remember my instructor’s words. Slid the gear stick into first, pushing on the accelerator and pulling up the clutch just enough for the van to rock forward, then I dipped the clutch again as we rocked back, added to the momentum with a little reverse, then switching back and forth until we were rocking in a decent rhythm. When I thought I couldn’t get more power into the forward swing, I jabbed the accelerator back as we changed direction and let the left pedal all the way out, clenching my teeth, not looking to Ryan as I held my breath.

A snap of metal came from the front and we jolted back. I let the clutch down, breath stole from my lungs as I celebrated the victory whilst bones crunched under the wheels, watching forward waiting for the creature’s expressions to form the disappointment, forgetting they had no command of expression. I hurried my view to the left mirror, mindful of the cars parked, strewn in our path, catching only a glance as my vision swung around to the metal hook attached to the fence and hanging from it a black section of plastic I knew would be missing from our bumper.

“Holy shit,” came Ryan’s voice. Not the response I’d expected and I swapped to his face. “Can’t they see we’re moving, don’t they know the dead can’t drive,” he said, his breath running hard. I didn’t look up, didn’t turn to the drone getting closer, didn’t look for the missile released, instead concentrated on turning the van, trying to avoid the creatures and the great trunks of trees littering the road as I tried to keep as much momentum while I twisted the van around.

With each turn of the wheel, each crutch of the tyres, each time I couldn’t avoid a great splinter, a great chunk of concrete, I thought we’d grind to a halt. I knew I had to keep the momentum up, had to keep our speed as I followed the journey I’d takin in my mind only moments before. The layouts were as I’d expected, the details much the same, only the van was harder to control, the sideways shift of our weight greater as the van listed in the turn. Ryan and I leant the other way in a vain attempt to balance gravity from taking us over and somehow we made it, the wheels scraping along the kerbstones, aiding our upright hold. Still, I piled on the speed, my eyes fixed on the last minute change of direction I’d need, the turn we’d have to make, the second leap of faith we’d need to believe in, to take us through the fence and into the garden to carry us still onward, crashing through the wooden panels and out into the freedom of the grass hills.

We made it almost intact, just leaving the air from the front left tyre behind, the suspension feeding us every lump in the grass, every divot, every hole bleeding our speed with every revolution of the rim despite my foot being flat to the floor. I had little control, but somehow kept us facing out to the moor. Kept us heading away from the village and the great gaping hole I’d made in what had kept us safe before, in what had kept those around us from the horde. Now what remained of the creatures, burnt and skinless, would be free to roam if they survived the explosions raining down from the sky.

The van came to its rest and I leapt out, Ryan throwing me the gun as he dived under for the spare tyre whilst I took slow paces toward the hole we’d crashed through and the first creatures making their way in a long trail, snaking into view. I counted thirty in their slow amble which wouldn’t be slow enough, before Ryan was out from under with the tyre. I checked the clip, counting ten rounds and wandered how I would kill three of the blackened creatures with each bullet.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

He didn’t reply to my fear, but turned to the hands slapping at the window and fixed for a moment until his head slowly crept around, his eyes wide, stopping on the growing dot above the fence line.

“No,” he said, the words loud. “The gardens, the wooden fences,” he said. “That’s how we can get out!”

I paused for a moment, the words catching in my mind, as they progressed the route appeared in my head, tracing the journey back from where we sat in the van, through the crowd scratching at the paintwork, turning the corner down the short street, the road turning to gravel, veering right just before the metal fence, seeing the clear air over the two short sets of fences to the rolling hills beyond.

“Yes,” I said, my eyes wide, looking up to the dot which was growing. It was too slow to be a plane, wasn’t a jet racing towards us to fire another salvo and I pushed it out of my mind, letting the accelerator go, letting the engine calm but only for a moment before jabbing the clutch, crunching the stick to engage reverse. Heavy on the accelerator, I let the clutch up, but the van moved less than half the turn of a wheel before it slammed to a stop and the engine stalled, leaving only the moan coming through the windows.

I looked up to the dot, a thought coming into focus with engine quiet, only the low hum from outside left behind.

“It’s a UAV,” I said looking to Ryan. “A drone. It must be,” I said as the thin wings were just in view. I saw the relief in his face, the corners of his mouth raising, despite knowing it was getting bigger as I looked back. “You know they carrying the same missiles as a Tornado, right?”

“How do you know all this?” he said. “Oh right,” he replied to himself as he saw my left eyebrow raised.

His eyes widened as he turned, then looked back to the aircraft and I followed. His breath caught, mine did too but without the noise as we saw a line of smoke appear on the horizon from the aircraft’s belly.

“Get down,” I said, pushing myself down to the middle of the van, my head crouching over the gear stick, just seeing Ryan heading the same way as I fell.

The explosion came much sooner than expected, the missile travelling the distance to its destination in a time which made me question. I looked up, not afraid of a fireball, seeing the rising cloud of smoke, of hot energy coming over the high fence some distance away. We weren’t the target. Ryan’s voice confirming.

“It’s not us,” he said, our eyes latching back on the dot in the sky gaining definition with every passing moment.

“Not yet,” I said.

“But,” he said, the words stuttering to a stop. “But they’ve got cameras right, they can see what’s going on back in the bunker.” I nodded. “If they see us, they won’t attack? Right?”

I paused for a moment.

“I guess,” I said looking through my window, the view only going as far as the face smearing a brown sticky fluid the other side. I turned to Ryan’s, looking past his optimism and through the glass seeing the near mirror image of mine, but through his was a person who’s gender I couldn’t tell, their features burnt off, hair gone in the blast. All that remained was dark flaking skin, lumps of which stayed behind as it scraped along the glass.

“You wanna get out and wave your hands in the air,” I said as I brought my focus back to the falling features on his face. He tilted his head to the side, but stopped himself from flicking his eyes to the window.

“Get us the fuck out of here,” he said, his voice resigned and I jabbed the accelerator down, letting go of the clutch and remember why we hadn’t moved, had gone nowhere yet. I remembered as the van moved back less than a centimetre, watching the fence flexed out as much, holding us firm as if tied by the bumper, the ground rocking, heat coming through the windscreen as we caught the evaporating trail of a missile exploding so much nearer than the last. 

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

Still numb, but not from the explosion, I picked myself up, dust falling to the ground, stepping over the body, pulling Ryan up by the arm. I led the way down the stairs, ears ringing, my view on the world swimming like jelly. I didn’t stop to check left and right, didn’t look for the dead searching us out. With my view fixed on a patch of white panel, the letters down the side I’d clung to for so many years, I trudged, hand clasped around his, pulling, dragging as he stumbled by my side. In my periphery I saw cars shunted, their windows smashed, the cacophony of alarms coming into the focus, the great fire consuming the woods, the spay of wooden shrapnel everywhere I placed a foot.

I saw movement, saw creatures, their bodies covered in red, skin torn off, stripped bare with the wave of energy. They saw us, walked our way, stumbling no more, no less than before. Ryan gripped my hand tight by my side as he built his strength and we dragged each other, both knowing our direction as the pace built to a level we could barely manage, our course steered only to avoid the debris, the cars blown in our path, shards of fist sized wooden splitters peppering each body panel.

I took no notice as a dead soldier, or at least the half remaining, reached out to grasp as I stepped over. Ryan pulled me to the side just out of its reach, my face not reacting, mouth not turning from the thin line, as numb as my body and ahead I trudged on, relief barely breaking the surface as I saw the van was too far from the blast to break out the windows.

The keys were in my hand in an automatic action, without a memory of my fingers reaching inside my jacket where I must have put them. The realisation came as I pushed the thin metal into the lock, the handle clicking when I pulled up and the clawed fingers reached through the gap, a foul odour rolling out, waking me from my trance. I stumbled backward, slamming hard to the hastily erected metal fence.

I’d forgotten all about her. The woman we’d picked up, the woman who’d helped me rescue Toni. Toni had turned on her in the back of the truck. At the time I’d accepted the accident in the heat of the moment. The suffocation as we’d tried to evade those in authority, tried to prevent ourselves from being trapped again. But now I knew it wasn’t the full story, there was more to her than I could have known. Now was again not the time to process this new information as the woman fell from the back of the van drew up to her feet to exact her revenge. I stood, staring on, watching the last of my days flash back, trying to test each of her words, each of her actions from a whole new perspective.

Ryan charged in from my side, pushing the woman down to the ground, lifting a pistol from a soldier’s hand, without the top half of his head he had no use for it, and slammed two rounds to shatter her skull. The explosion woke me from my daydreaming to Ryan’s concerned stare, his wide eyed look asking a question. Was I broken beyond repair?

I answered his question; I owed him that much and more.

“Thank you,” I said. “This is fucked up,” I added and he gave a slow nod in reply. “We’d better go,” I said looking to the sky, hoping the dot on the horizon wasn’t another jet, looking to the woods, knowing the blackened smoking creatures walking towards us were exactly what I knew them to be. He nodded again after following my view, slamming the door behind him as he climbed in after, sliding the bolt as he followed me to the passenger seat, both of us holding our hands over our mouths in a futile attempt to keep from breathing the stench she’d left behind.

The engine started and I almost gagged as the breath of relief came and I turned to the window, but knew I couldn’t give them even a crack to get their clawed fingers into, so I sucked down the bile and heaved the steering wheel to avoid the car pushed up against the bumper.

I closed my eyes as the engine pushed the van backwards and tried not to think of the crushing bones the suspension couldn’t mask as it pitched us one way and then the next, bumping into the fence, slamming us to a hard stop as the bumper banged, the sound resounding like a bass drum. Swapping glances with Ryan, I could see his knuckles white on the armrest and door handle either side and was ready to shout him down if he so much as offered to drive.

Moving forward I couldn’t pretend it was just a bumpy road, despite my attempts. We could see the bodies, those of dead soldiers and residents, those who had died and stayed dead and those who had not, before the great tyres rolled over in vain of my best efforts to avoid. I guessed there were at least half of the creatures left alive by the blast as they swarmed towards us and I checked my door was locked more times than I could have counted while we rolled along watching the horizon for an opening in the fence, watching the skyline for the dot in the centre growing bigger with every moment.

It was then we realised at the same time we hadn’t thought this through. Yes, we were safe in the van despite the surrounding crowd, but we had nowhere to go, had no chance to get away from the next missile surely on its way. I stopped with the bonnet of the van almost at the fence, then let it drip forward, nudging into contact with the metal. There was a pop, a grind of metal as we made contact, but we stayed firm, as did the fence, my mind’s eye on the other side and the great concrete blocks sat on the wide feet at its base. I looked up, the dot was growing, hands slapped at the windows but neither of us jumped. Hands slapped at the panels as the engine revved with the dot growing larger.

I turned and asked his down-turned face a question.

“Is this how it ends?”

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

Numb body. Numb between my ears. Each part of me felt like it had lost some feeling. The smell of burnt flesh, burnt plastic, a cocktail of unpleasantness circled around the room, swirling as it mingled with the thin smoke clawing at my lungs. A shot of wind blasted against my sodden clothes waking me as the heat turned to a chill coursing along my spine. Glass fell to the duvet, chattering as I rose from the bed, every muscle ached as I lifted my head, as I arched my back to straighten out the kink. I saw the keys lain on the floor next to the bedside table in a pile of glass by the far wall. A flurry of delight rushed up from my stomach until I realised the van, in all likelihood, would be useless, totalled and a fitting ending, an apt punishment leaving my humanity to end when night fell.

Ryan.

His face flashed into my head and I stood, stretching out the crick in my neck, grasping for the gun just out of reach, gripping tight as I rounded the bed, knowing I needed to save at least one bullet. With dwindling hope I scooped up the keys and ran from the room, not looking back through the missing window, not looking down to the blood soaked carpet. Steadying myself, searching after bounding over the scarlet puddle in the hallway, my eyes looked left, looked right, the gun following shortly after, my neck just loose enough to follow.

To my right I saw the soles of feet upturned, pointed to the ceiling, trainers I could guess Ryan would wear, the ankles dressed in white socks disappearing behind a bed. I took a step, promising to take more notice next time, if given a chance. Glass crushed under my feet, but my eyes drew to the fluttering of the curtain, the plume of smoke passing by the window, carried in the wind across the view, its source somewhere in the distance. The bomb, the explosive, the missile, whatever, must have targeting the woods because we weren’t dead. I’d seen the result of targeted strikes before, had stood with in the blue press body armour and the bulky helmet, had seen the gutted buildings, watching on while families picked through the rubble for their missing.

I sped, under no illusion my steps could be the first and last if the roar of jet engines were heard on the wind, but on my next step a figure dressed in dark clothing emerged from the right of the room, creeping out of a cupboard. His hand held around his chest, his arm reaching down to Ryan, for his gun dropped in the blast, I knew, even though I couldn’t see past the bed. With a blink of my eye I pulled the trigger bypassing conscious thought, the explosive cracking through the air before I realised what happened, the man slumping to the ground, his reach dropping as Ryan’s foot twitched to life.

Bursting forward, my eyes taking in the detail for the first time. His black jacket, black trousers, everything dark, even the paint covering his skin, all but his nose flat to his face, the paint smudged clean off. The wound in his shoulder poured with dark treacle as I grabbed him by the shoulder and rolled him onto his back. It was the soldier I knocked unconscious, his left hand holding a scarlet dressing to his stomach. He’d been in the room when I’d killed Toni. It was his nose which popped against my knee. It was his gun I shot her with and now he was here, bleeding to death, already dying maybe.

I slapped him square on his cheek, his eyes flying open, blood and black paint sliding off with my hand. For a moment he stared on, but I caught the moment of realisation, the time when he remembered. Intrigued by what he saw in his head, was is it my face as I lay asleep on the bed, bound with my arms spread across the mattress or was he the one who disconnected the ropes only to force my unconscious hands into the cuffs behind my back, or was it my face in the darkness before he bent down and I smashed him in the face?

Wherever it was, I only needed him for one thing, only needed him to answer one question. I slapped him hard and pushed the nose of the gun into the exit wound I’d caused, damming the blood, electrifying his senses.

“Where the fuck has the bitch gone?” I shouted, ignoring Ryan’s rise and his open mouth stare in my peripheral vision.

He stuttered, the words catching in his throat as he fought to hold back the scream. I lingered with the gun, letting my insides boil with the memories playing in my head. Out of the blue my parents faces were in my mind, looking down from up high shaking their head. I pulled the gun from the ragged hole, his face relaxing the instant the metal withdrew. I watched the blood drip from the muzzle as I brought it up level with his face and breathed a long, deep breath through my nose.

“Where the fuck is the bitch?” I said and he turned his eyes up from the ground, locking his to mine, the pain in his expression all but gone.

“Which one?” he said, letting out an exhausted breath. I switched a look to Ryan who stared on with his mouth hanging open as he climbed to his feet, my mind was numb, thinking about what he could mean. Why would I ask where a dead woman was? Of course I meant her mother. Of course I meant the boss.

“The one in charge,” I said turning back from Ryan as he edged back in the room, flinching out to the window, his eyes shooting wide and his finger pointing to the sky.

A wry smile came across the guy’s face.

“Hospital, down south. Stage three,” he said, reciting words he knew so well.

“Where?” I shouted over Ryan’s panicked calls to get to the floor.

“St Buryan Hospital, conducting field trials. The mother too.”

My arm fell under the weight of the gun, the weight of his words. Had I got this right? Was she alive? Was she more of a liar than I could have ever known? I needed to sit. I needed to think on the words. I had to interrogate further, but first I needed calm, quiet, a moment to get myself together. The moment came in slow motion as I sat to the bed. Ryan diving, soundless to the floor despite his agitated breath. The soldier collapsing to the ground, blood pooling around him, the shock wave from the second explosion ripping the curtains from the window, pushing me sideways, forcing my eyes closed.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

Ryan didn’t follow, instead staying behind to barricade the doorway, the drag of furniture so reminiscent but I couldn’t recall from which place or when. How many times had we repeated this process since the world changed? I didn’t know, couldn’t tell, concentrating lifting my heavy legs while I thought of anything but what I would find. Thought of anything but the flashbacks I knew would come, along with the embellishments my brain added as a punishment for my crime.

I looked down, my stare peering halfway up the stairs. Was this the first of the tricks played by my mind, or was the line of blood, widening as it rose, real or just in my head? I couldn’t remember if it had been there before. Was it dark when I was last here? I think so, but I couldn’t be sure. Was it hers? The question I should ask, but should I already know from the colour, or did it have a smell, her delicate scent I’d tasted so many times? If I truly loved her, should I be able to tell? I couldn’t. Did that answer my question? I shook my head and lifted another step. 

With Ryan still busy at the foot of the stairs and despite my legs gaining weight, or my muscles losing strength with each rise, I made it to the landing, following the blood rising to a pool in the centre. Yes, I had seen this before. My hand reached out to the soaking wet bandage I’d forgotten until now. I looked down, following the blood smearing, blotting with each of my damp prints. Turning up to the spread of blood, the previous events which hadn’t taken place in this house slowly drifted through my head and I raised the pistol, the butt sticky with blood and I pulled back the slide, priming the chamber with a bullet and pushed it out to lead the way.

Despite my fear, I turned left, knowing it was the place I least wanted to go. Knowing it was the most likely location for what I sought, the keys to the van. Or at least I told myself it was what I looked for.

The room was dark; the curtains pulled closed, the air heavy and perhaps not all the atmosphere projected by me. Try as I might I couldn’t see any detail from where I stood at the door. Try as I might I couldn’t stop the chatter of my teeth, the constant vibration of my limbs, the wave of the gun as it swayed left and right to counter the buzz of my frozen arms. Try as I might I couldn’t see beyond the bed, couldn’t see past the mattress, the space between where I’d been held down, where I was close to being raped, later handcuffed, betrayed. Couldn’t see beyond there and the window. With one step I drew a shallow breath, lungs stuttering to take all the air in one go, my face expressionless, pistol still pointed out into the vague darkness. With the second step I let out an exhale, letting my eyes close but only for a moment, before they shot wide and I surged forward when her form appeared, projected at the window, knowing it was only inside my head.

The sudden movement stopped the shakes, calmed my convulsions as I grabbed at the curtains. Sweeping left and right, drawing back as the light poured, my eyes opening, tears rolling down my face, hitting the carpet soaked in blood as my eyes darted between each of the littered bandages and red sodden dressings. I saw the chaos in my head, watched myself disappear down the stairs, watched Toni’s mother catch her in her arms, lay her to the floor, breathless and silent as she fought to find the wound, screaming the house down for help.

I watched as more joined the panic, as lights crowded, pouring their beams on the holes in her chest, her clothes pulled up and discarded. I opened my eyes, searched the floor, but found nothing. All that remained was her life force spread across the floor.

I crouched, the tears landing on the back of my left hand as I touched the tip of my index finger to the ground. The blood sticky, not dry. I watched as the pain drained from her face in the torchlight. I watched as she replayed my destructive force over and again in her head, her last thoughts before they brought the long black bag, before they zipped her up from heel to head.

The stairs creaked. I looked up. They hadn’t made a noise as I’d climbed. At least I hadn’t noticed. I looked back down begging for the pain once more, begging for the punishment to fill my heart, but I couldn’t concentrate, the noise on the floor too great. I stood, whispering his name.

“Ryan,” I said in a voice only someone next to me would hear, but the reply was greater than I could have expected. Ryan’s voice shouted a hurried command, a panic male voice matching his volume. The two bucks squared off with indistinct, hurried words, but as I took the first steps with the gun shaking out it front, an explosion drowned everything out, throwing me off my feet and on to the bed, shattering the window, spraying razors of glass.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

To my right Ryan stood, his eyes wide on the crowd, the haze of their stench rolling out before them. Beyond him the river bared to the left, sweeping in the perfect direction despite its narrowing, despite the water running fast, despite the surface white with foam like a big No Entry sign. To my left the water stretched out turning away from the village as it widened, as the banks fell gently either side, levelling with the calm flow, calling with its calm surface, calling from the wrong direction.

The choice was clear; the choice required now; the creatures stumbling down the bank, falling to their knees, head over heels, already rising to their feet unsteady with the flow. Still, we stood with the bank no longer visible for falling bodies, my head left and right, ignoring the pain as I twisted back and forth, turning left to safety, but away from the house, turning right to danger and the goal I couldn’t give up.

With no time to discuss, Ryan would make his choice, and determined not to look back, I turned to the crowd, their bodies stumbling, piling up to dam the edge of the river, but as a group, closing the distance each moment. I moved right, pushing through the growing flow, not looking back, not wanting to know his decision.

The water deepened with every step, but still I didn’t look around, didn’t want to see the creatures following me on the bank, didn’t want to see Ryan not following, heading the other way or overcome by the dead’s advance. Forcing on, the pressure against my legs gave me hope I couldn’t be followed by those without dexterity, the rising level my only concern. I edged toward the far bank now on my right; the mud rising higher than I could see over even if I stood out of the water. With my hand I grasped for roots I couldn’t find, something to hold as the flow grew with every step. I found nothing but the sheer walls of dense dirt. Breath pulled in as the water reached my crotch, the pain in my throat less than I’d expected as the air pulled in with the cold shock. I took the silver lining.

With the water reaching over my hips, I clawed the air for traction, white foam bubbling around my belly, my eyes fixed forward, searching out the banks in the darkness. My next footfall landed higher than I expected and tripped forward only to be drawn back by the current, swept the wrong direction against my will, my lungs pulling sharp at the air as I sank, the water above my shoulders. A firm grasp grabbed at the scruff of my jacket and I was high in the water again, cold wind washing across my soaked clothes, pulled close to Ryan and to my feet. I grabbed him around the waist and we trudged on, holding against each other as the banks slowly spread, lowering with every step, the flow calming, the water receding. Excess water cascaded down our bodies, the wet remains clinging tight, pushed firm by the chill in the air as we shivered for heat. About to pull to the left, I turned, stared down the river, surprised by the distance, surprised by the clear banks. We hadn’t been followed. The plan had worked.

With slow, considered steps, we stepped from the water and onto the grass, fixing to the spot each time the water gave any sound, glancing around, ready to climb back in at any moment. No milky white eyes stared back as we walked the grass through the last of the thinning trees and into the meadow at the edge of the village. We watched along the side of wood, my gaze constant reaching out the last house by the only road running through the settlement. We’d done it, we’d thrown them off the scent, the only price to pay was the constant vibration of each part of our body, the chills running deep into our core. We had to get out of these clothes, had to change and fast before hypothermia took away our choices.

Together we ran across the meadow peering through the trees, switching ahead every other moment, waiting for the time when we’d see the creatures and the timer would start before we had to run again. It wasn’t until we cleared the trees, rounding the wood on our side of the road, we realised we were on the wrong side of the fence and saw movement within its boundary, the olive drab vehicles crowded the other side, the house I was so desperate to avoid, the house I had no choice but to enter.

Steeling myself with a deep breath, my teething chattering so much I thought at any moment they would fall out, I jumped, catching the tall top of a fence panel, hanging from the edge as it swayed under my weight, until I felt Ryan’s hands so warm, so large, around my waist, lifting me until I had my arms resting on the top, my feet on his hands boosting me high. Precarious on the top of the fence it swayed with my movement, but the concrete at its feet stopped it from toppling. Twisting over the edge, I lowered too fast, keen to avoid the discarded bodies, my knees banged against the metal like a bass drum as I landed.

I couldn’t stay and wait for his climb, knew the drum would have called them near. Finding a pistol was easy. Pulling it from the holster soaked in blood was not when despite my best will, I couldn’t take my eyes from the empty cavity where its owners organs should have sat. Picking my way around the truck blocking my view, I ran toward the first house, ignoring it entirely, instead fixing my gaze on the wide open door to its side. I saw straight through to the garden and the place I’d run, my escape route after I’d killed the woman I once thought I loved. In the background I heard feet landing to the road, but soon a heavy tone in the air took my attention, a tone which could be only one thing, but I took longer than I should have to realise I’d been right as we’d first approached the village. There had been a reason the army penned the creatures in.

The sound grew louder as Ryan arrived at my back, soon turning, looking to the sky using his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. It was there even though it couldn’t be see it. It was there even though it would be too late for us when we did. But we had no choice. We had nowhere to run, so I carried on regardless and climbed the stairs thinking how Toni would have laughed if the bombs hit as I stood over the place where I’d taken her life.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

I didn’t hear the shot, only the shock wave across my face. I didn’t feel the grip release, only the cooling blood tightening as it dried across my skin. With pressure under my arms, my legs were the first to wake. No. My lungs were already pumping before I realised I was travelling, before I realised I was being dragged. Held up. Pulled along. My eyes opened to the trees moving either side, but my alarm didn’t hold back when I figured we were going in the wrong direction.

“No,” I shouted, the words dry and raw. We slowed, my arms pulling away, pulling from his hold until I juddered to a stop, leant over, gasping for breath. Each pull like flesh ripping inside my throat. Ryan paid no attention as he faced the other way, faced behind us, feet not holding still as he waited for me to rise.

I coughed, spluttered breath into my lungs, holding my throat as if it would drain away the pain, would ease the pressure still surrounded.

“Hurry,” I heard his vague words. Vague to my ears at least. I stood and looked up, his eyes still behind, only briefly catching on mine, then back to the sight of his rifle trained the way we’d come. With the car alarms still strong in the background, I twisted around, breath painful as it drew, painful as I saw the crowd in the distance. No need for magnification. The crowd easy to see at the edge of the wood, shutting out the sun as they ambled in our direction, the open door easy to glimpse. The place where I needed to be.

I tried to speak, but held back knowing the pain, instead holding my hand out, finger pointed toward the house.

Ryan shook his head.

“Change of plan,” he said.

“No,” I croaked, pulling myself upright and turning the way he’d dragged me, taking one step and then another as I squinted into the darkness of the woods as it pulled us in deeper. “No,” I said again, putting one step forward after the other. My pace built with Ryan at my side, the pain throbbing as each beat careered through my body. On and on I jogged, jumping over fallen trees, finding the energy somewhere to bound over roots sticking out, swerving left and right to avoid the undergrowth until I could see the ground fall away out of sight, my lips painful as they curled into a smile.

“Shoot them,” I said, holding back a repeat, fearful of another painful flare. Repeating once more but only in gesture, pointing to the crowd now barely visible with the naked eye. He stared back, turned, squinting, but soon followed my outstretched finger, the rifle stayed pointing to the ground. When he made no move, no effort, I grabbed the rifle ignoring his dumbfounded stare. Dropping to one knee, I shut out his protests, shut out his fears, pushed my eye to the sight and centred the iron in the view. With tip touching the movement, the white of a head bobbing in and out of view, I fired. 

Not waiting for the echo to die, not waiting for the rustle of birds to get to their wings, the scrape and scrabble of those on the ground escaping on four legs from their hideouts, I fired again and again until the echo of the empty click gave me no other choice. Still, I left the gun level, ignoring Ryan’s feet, ignoring him searching for movement, for a large tree to climb or some other escape. I watched them grow bigger in the view, standing as they grew near, moving back, closer and closer to the river until I no longer needed the sight to see the detail, the bruised, broken faces, limbs missing, the same shade of red they all wore. I threw the rifle to the ground, following Ryan’s downward glance as it clattered against a stone, adding to the racket.

Knowing Ryan would fix to the spot, I grabbed the arm of his shirt, dragging him from his stare, peeling him from the approaching crowd, letting go only as the ground fell steeper, giving neither of us a choice but to fall knee deep into the river. Splashing through the water, slapping my feet to the surface, we reached the other side to find the bank too steep to climb, our feet sinking into the rapid incline. Twisting around, heads rose over the bounds, teeth gnashing as they fixed their stares on the veins proud in our necks. I saw through milky white eyes. I saw their dreams of our blood coursing, could feel as if inside their riddled minds, their instincts desperate to pull our flesh open.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

Tiny stars appeared at my eyes as I held firm, disbelief fixing me to the spot, fixing my right arm hovering over his corpse. My left hand pushed out to its chest, holding it back as it tried to sit up, mouth snapping open and closed in silent, swift motions. Nothing came as I tried to pull deep, fighting against the blockage at my throat. Ryan still faced the other way, looking into the distance as I felt my will drain. My eyes caught on the knife still held out and adrenaline shot along my arm. I jabbed, pushing all my weight behind my balled fist wrapped around the hilt, the knife diving deep, slicing through the skin with no resistance. Slice after slice, jab after jab it gave no reaction and we were locked in a stalemate, knowing I would give out first, despite the destruction I’d made to its stomach.

Still, Ryan looked away and I tried to force my remaining energy away from trying to figure the reasons why he couldn’t hear the sounds which should have been so obvious. My vision closed in from the sides, a dark border encroaching with every moment. I switched my effort, turning the blade to its outstretched arm, its hand at my throat, but I could feel the power lessen with each jab digging to the bone.

With my vision nearing to a dot in the centre, I felt myself relax, with nothing left to stop it from taking over, nothing to stop myself falling.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

“Jess Carmichael?” came the breathy, surprised words. My finger stopped moving, but remained firm on the trigger.

I lowered the gun, but snapped up again as the soldier stubbled forward, a foot catching on a raised root.

“Hold it right there,” came Ryan’s voice, his form becoming visible as the soldier collapsed to the ground. Ryan lowered his rifle first, his eyes catching mine for a second before we both ran in, meeting over the slumped body, our hands twisting him around, covering his blackened half, rolling so I could push two fingers to the pink skin at his throat. I lifted my head. Ryan looked on hopeful as I looked past him, my tips seeking his veins and the momentary bulge I couldn’t find.

Looking upward and with a shake of my head, I stood. Ryan remained on his knees, peering down to the body as it  relaxing, the body’s pained expression draining, chest lowering with each moment.

“Come on,” I said. Ryan looked up. 

“Did you know him?” he said, confusion written across his features. I looked down, held on his face for a moment, the pink of his skin, its colour darkening as my eyes followed to the char I was thankful for being mostly hidden. I shook my head. “But he knew your name?”

Watching his face, my eyebrows raised. I waited for his head to catch up, but when it didn’t and he turned back down to the man, his hands at his side, looking lost, I spoke.

“You know my name. Half the country knows my name.”

He raised his eyebrows as he looked back, then sank as his thoughts caught up.

“We need to go,” I said, turning when he hadn’t followed my pace, listening to the whine of the alarms fading in and out of the background. “What are you waiting for?”

“Shouldn’t we,” he said not finishing his words. “Shouldn’t we,” he repeated. “Isn’t he going to rise again? Won’t he join them?” he said pointing his arm toward the crowds of dead still ambling between whichever car made the most noise. I looked at the crowd walking away, but turned as I watched, as the closest car’s alarm rose from its silence. “Shouldn’t we put him out of his misery?” he said in a voice I barely heard.

My eyes fixed on the soldier’s face, looking down to the ball chain necklace I knew would lead to two circular discs and the tags used to identify him when all this was over, when his body decomposed beyond recognition, here or wherever he finally fell to his rest. One more of their ranks would be no different in the grand scheme, but would I rather have a knife through my temple, through my eye socket, than wonder around with a squatter driving my empty body. Too right I would.  Ryan was right. I nodded, closing my eyes, shutting out the view as Ryan stood, dipping his head in a shallow salute.

The world began a slow spin, fatigue calming my breathing, a blanket of calm surrounding me. I felt myself about to stumble and my eyes shot open to see I hadn’t moved, but caught on Ryan, his head bowed, the rifles on the floor behind him and a knife held out in both hands like he was about to sacrifice a virgin on an alter. A tear dripped down from his face, darkening a patch of the green fatigues. His head shook slow from side to side and he looked up, pulling in a great breath. I kept my expression calm, held my hand out for the knife and he gave it over taking a step back.

Dropping to my knees I pushed the fingers of my left hand to his throat. Slowing my breath, closing my eyes as I pushed all concentration to the tips of my fingers. I had to be sure. I had to be sure again. There was nothing. Still nothing. My fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife in my right until a bump of sensation rippled across the fingers pushed into the side of his throat.

I looked up to Ryan, eyes wide, but he’d turned. Snapping down to the soldier’s face, but there he lay, eyes closed, chest still, no matter how long I lingered. Breath drained from my own as I relaxed, closing my eyes, my fingers held in place.

Nothing.

The sensation must have been a something else, a need for there to be a reason to turn away my course. But no. I had to be brave. Had to do the right thing and pulling my fingers away I moved the knife, but my eyes sprang wide as the scorched hand clamped around my throat, cutting off my scream as his milky whites stared back.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

“Step aside,” came Ryan’s breathy whisper from behind.

“No,” I said, hushing my voice as I stood between the passenger side window and the raised butt of his rifle. “No,” I repeated, turning along the road to check I hadn’t disturbed the withdrawing masses. As I looked I saw through the creatures crowding, scratching at the Freelander with its hazard lights blinking, its electronic beat pulsing out, drawing the creature’s hands to open and their teeth to smash together as they groped to feed on the metal. The sound dulled in my head. I could still hear it but through cotton wool ears, my eyes fixed on the clustered olive drab vehicles and the hint of the house where I’d been taken, where I’d been held, where I’d been betrayed.

“No,” I said again as he lowered the butt, the confusion thickening on his brow as it lowered. “It’s alarmed, you’re just going to bring them back. I need the van too, the transmitter’s hard wired. Without it I’ll never get the story out.”

Ryan’s face melted away the confusion, but then rose again as he questioned.

“So where are the keys?” he said, staring at me with a deep intent, his brow low, before he looked around. I peered past him, turned to the side, past the flailing mob of the dead to the house where I’d last seen Toni. To the house where she’d died.

“Fuck off,” he said, his tone high and mocking. I turned his way, eyebrow raised. “You’re kidding right?” I didn’t reply, didn’t lower my brow. He thought for a moment, his eyes fixed on mine. “So we’ll need another distraction?” he eventually said. I could have hugged him, could have wrapped my arms around him tight, but I didn’t, instead leaving my gratitude to a shallow smile, cheeks bunching as my face relaxed. I watched him sling the air rifle over his shoulder and pick his way around the dead soldiers, plucking a rifle dropped to the ground, in favour of those still intertwined with their former owners.

“Go around the edge,” he said. “I’ll draw them away,” he added as he lowered the gun down, peering through the optical sight toward the ground piled with what were once people.

“No,” I replied, but he didn’t listen, he was already climbing the ladder set into the back of the van, his hands already on the rungs at the top, ready to pull himself up to the folded satellite dish. “No,” I replied again and turned away. “You should come with me,” I said gripping the bat as I crept around the back of the van. Walking along the new fence-line, I peeled a pistol from the cold fingers of a soldier whose face could no longer be seen, keeping my concentration fixed at my feet, only glancing ahead with every other step and not looking back, hoping he’d heard my words as I disappeared into a small copse of trees.

Hunger, the old type I hoped, left a cavity in my chest, in my stomach as I walked peering between the trees, the gun out in front as I fixed on the line of buildings, on the car alarming with flashing lights, the crowd five or more deep surrounding it. The alarm halted, but not the lights and I stopped, paused my breath as the crowd lost interest, each ambling in random directions. The pain in my chest grew, but it wasn’t real pain. It was a feeling, a hunger, no. Anger, maybe. A let down. I felt betrayed when he hadn’t followed. I felt stupid for the way it churned my insides. I was emotional. Of course I was. Any normal person would be in this situation. Even someone who knew who they were, knew what they would become, would have a hard time with what I’d done, with what I was doing. Alone.

An alarm took off again in the distance, the crowd drawing away like metal to magnets. He hadn’t needed to stay behind, hadn’t needed to play the hero. He should have come with me.

I stopped my thoughts as the alarm ceased, the silence broken only by twigs snapping, the rustle of the thick undergrowth under my feet. I’d known him for less than a day. My girlfriend. No. My lover, had been dead for the same time. The thoughts vanished as the view of the house became clear, the dark scorch marks across the front, the shattered clusters of bricks which somehow still kept the house held up straight. I stared at each of the trucks, but tried to avoid the burning carcasses. It had been a great battle, the start of which I’d seen, but the solders, the military hadn’t been the victors, with so many lain across the street, so many dead but walking, how could they have been?

I tried to ignore the scene, looked beyond the chaos and peered at the wide open door. Saw it fallen, great chunks of brick, of wood, missing from where it had hung. I moved, letting caution go, readying myself to make the run, preparing for the bounds, the long strides I would need to get over the bodies in time.

My heart jumped as the nearest car alarm went off again. It was so much closer now and drawing the creatures near. With my heart already going crazy, I heard footsteps behind, the gap in my chest, the emptiness filling. I turned to see Ryan, but he wasn’t there. Where he should have stood, another did, walking towards me with his arms raised out. A soldier, half his face burnt beyond recognition, a bloodied mess down his fatigues. I dropped the bat from my right, raised the gun, gripping tight with both hands and pulled the trigger half the way, stopping only when he said my name.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

I listened to the lull as the echo died. Watching Ryan and his wide-eyed daze, we fixed our stares, both afraid to move, afraid to rattle the aluminium bell any further, but with the sound, the bass vibration coming clear, even if only in my mind, I jumped to my feet. Holding my hand out for Ryan, he clambered up, pulling the ladder, no longer caring for the noise,  we ran.

With a glance to my left and down the side of the house as I arrived at the fence, the crowd had turned, faces pointed in my direction, eyes opening further as they caught my movement, caught my scent. With the ladder planted firmly at the base, I climbed, but my feet tripped as they hit the first step. Swearing under my breath I raised again, taking more care to plant my feet as Ryan held the metal to hold back my shake.

From the top step I ignored the fence, only peering with a glance over the wood before checking back between the houses where the creatures were getting so near. Dropping the baseball bat to the other side, I jumped, a sharp pain rising along my shin as I landed only to look up and see more of the undead this side of the fence walking our way. I looked up from the ground, with no sign of Ryan and rolled out of the place where I’d landed, getting to my knees, raising up and putting tentative weight on my pained foot.

It took my weight and I breathed relief as I saw Ryan rise from the other side; the rifle coming my way as we met eyes, his attention turning to test the top of the fence before I’d caught the rifle in its case midway through the air. Indecision paused me for a moment as the crowd grew closer, but soon I dropped the rifle bag, picking up the bat, raising it high over my head. I took one step, eyes focusing on the pair heading the crowd, a tall woman with a barrel of fat around her midriff, her belly button on show through a rip in her shirt, the fabric open from her chest bone to her hips, a scored, jagged line following the broken material on her pale skin. Two, I said in my head, moving my eyes to avoid her face, instead catching on the tall man at her side, his arms outstretched, milky white eyes fixed toward me, his fingers pointing in different, unnatural directions. Three and I raised the bat higher, stretching out the muscles in my arms just a bit more, trying not to think of who these people had been and on the fourth number counted in my head, I swung down with all my breath.

The middle aged mother of two, her children were doctors, one with a kid of her own on the way, fell to the floor as the wood bounced from the front of her skull, sending a shiver through the bat. The young bank clerk who’d lived with his wife and two point four kids, seemed relieved when the bat cracked his skull open. His eyes fell closed, sending blood and lumps of flesh spraying out with a sound like hitting a melon against the ground. A second swing to the mother whose birthday it would have been tomorrow, and she went the same way while I tried to scrub their made up lives from my memory with a raise of the bat, blood dripping in an arc as I pulled it up, eyes staring on the next two in line, the fairy tale of their lives already forming when the car alarms took up again in near unison.

The front row of two kept up their advance, but the outnumbered crowd at their backs took a slow turn, their arms pointing back out towards the road and I twisted around, racing to Ryan who was at the next fence, holding the ladder ready for me to climb.

We were in the last garden before the alarms silenced, with a line of sight down the side of the house to the teeming mass of creatures only just dispersing in all directions with no single noise to call the herd. Whilst I peered over the wooden fence to the van, I welcomed the thin smell of creosote cutting through the sewerage taste. I turned to Ryan, for a moment watching him peeled off, pulling the rifle from its case.

There it stood all alone. The van I’d wanted to get back to all this time. There it was, a little dirty with red smears and with a few new finger sized holes in the panels giving me concern. Still, there it was, a short run from the other side of the fence and with only a handful of creatures who hadn’t made the journey towards the alarms. An unfamiliar electronic song rang off from the road and I turned, catching Ryan relaxing the rifle down, a wide smile gleaming across his mouth.

Up the ladder before Ryan reached me, I stared out watching the backs of the last few humanlike creatures receding. My eyes fixed on the carpet of bodies, of soldiers, lain across the road, across the path, guilt tugging my insides as I fought with my joy at seeing the discarded pistols, the fingers gripped around the triggers, the rifles, real rifles with deadly bullets. Deadly even for those who’d died once already. I didn’t see these bodies as people, as once I would have done, as now I should. Ryan took hold of the ladder and I landed on bent knees in a spot I’d picked out between two bodies I was desperate to see as someone’s people.

I shook my head, tried to keep to my goal. There would be time to work out how I felt, to work out if I was a bad person, if my experiences had killed my humanity. Now was time for action, time for those we could still save, to warn the community, to warn the country, to tell the tale to the world. I stretched out my fingers, grabbing the cold handle and pulled, but the locked door held firm. My vision filled with Toni in the flash of light. She held the keys in her hand as the patch of red grew around her chest; the smile widening on her face.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

The wail of the alarm didn’t come, leaving only the silence to continue to scream out.

“Again,” I shouted, regretting the volume, but couldn’t take my eyes from the door to check he was doing as I commanded. I could hear the rustle of the plastic bag, the patter of metal pellets forming a pile, but still I couldn’t look away, listening to the silence only broken by the rhythmic creak of dry wood vibrating through the floor.

Air rushed from the barrel a second time, but nothing other than Ryan’s under-breath curse replied. I shot a look, listening to the change of pitch from the other side of the door, the break in the melody of the steps getting closer. Ryan twisted, resetting his aim near, resetting his aim to a target he could hit as he snapped the air rifle in two, pushing the pellet in, cracking it closed soon after.

The handle moved and I pushed the sole of my trainer to the door, raising the bat high over my head.

Air rushed from the barrel, the handle twisted and a scream replied, a shout of pain from behind the door whilst Ryan congratulated himself. Only when the scream faded, the pierce receding, did I hear the call of the alarm outside. He’d done it.

“Another,” I whispered, repeating louder, raising the bat over my head from where it had fallen as glass shattered from a different room. “Another,” I said as he kept his eye through the window, the gun held in one hand at his side. He twisted around, his eyes falling to my foot at the door, flinching back as he turned toward the window, moving out of the view, his free hand beckoning me over. I looked to the door, looked to the handle. I’d heard the beast depart but still I couldn’t move, couldn’t take my guard down. “Another,” I said and he backed away from the window, reloading, taking aim, taking his time.

The second call added to the chorus. He didn’t need to be told again and reloaded. Three alarms sang out into the street, echoing off the buildings, pulling and pushing the drums in my ears. Only then could I take the comfort, moving towards the window and Ryan, his arm out so I wouldn’t get too close and with one last look to the door, to the handle, I peered over the ledge, around the wall, a smile rising as the creatures, one after the other, lolled toward the three screaming cars. He’d done it and as I peered, I could see the naked beast, his engorged, blood soaked belly as he climbed in the closest car, head raised to the air, then down to the floor, following his nose, seeking the source of the sound.

Creature after creature kept up the pace and Ryan lifted the gun, I guessed with his aim on one of their heads.

“Don’t bother,” I said. “Even if it works, there’s a hundred to take its place.” He took a moment to lower the gun, I was already collecting up the pile of pellets from the floor, was already with my hand on the door, pulling down slowly before he turned and joined at my back, the rifle held in two hands, stock first, ready to jab.

The coast was clear, the carpet not. Footsteps imprinted red on the beige. Mine. Ryan’s much bigger and two bare feet, just the toes leading off along the hallway to the other room at the front, cold air whistling in the corridor with each step. I placed my feet around the marks, moved toward the second room at the back, but turned before I crossed in, bile rising in my stomach at the thought of the mess ready to greet me, to greet us, but we had little choice, the ladder left behind.

The mess was no greater and no worse, the white of the clean bones no brighter, no duller. The red of the carpet no more vibrant, the metallic cloud no thicker, no thinner.

I couldn’t avoid the slick covering the floor, using the tips of my toes my only defence, the only respect I could pay as I leant out of the missing glass, my hair billowing behind me in the draft. The last of the creatures were leaving the garden and didn’t look up, didn’t see. The last of the creatures were rushing as much as they could, clattering and bumping into each other with the greatest haste they could give. The step ladder was still there and I was on the roof without a helping hand. I took the rifle from Ryan as he climbed down, gave it back as I lifted the ladder, checking all around before I placed it to the grass, before I climbed down, brushing up along the side of the building, peering along the edge, staring at the backs of the creatures moving away.

Up the ladder and jumping down the other side, Ryan sat on the wooden fence, the thin slats bowing in and out as he balanced, as he pulled the ladder up before handing it over. Both of us landed on the grass the other side, ladder in hand. It was going so well. Too well, I knew. We were three houses down of six, three more to go and with the ladder being handing into the four garden it wouldn’t be long before I could get what I needed, could get the last vial, could take footage, could start the journey to warning the masses, to breaking the story, getting the scoop.

The chorus of alarms turned to a pair, and soon to a single voice as I stepped off the ladder, jumping down the other side. Then none. A pause in the commotion, but still I didn’t panic, my pulse didn’t inflate too much, until Ryan sat on the top of the fence and it collapsed as he swayed, the ladder in his hand, the metal slapping down to the flagstones, the cacophony echoing like a dinner bell as Ryan landed on top sending a second chorus ringing out.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

With the sound, the vibration through my feet, adrenaline, energy, a will to survive raced through my veins as my vision cleared. Ryan let go as he saw me raise up. I nodded, turning away, looking for our escape.

Holding my palm out for him to stay put, I light-footed it across the hallway and into the bedroom on the right, my first choice of three doors. Inside I found what I needed and came back with a dark wooden chair having tipped the clothes to the floor. Ryan moved as I pushed the wood under the handle and followed me back into the room, carefully easing the door closed behind us with his palm. With the chest of drawers covering the door, I didn’t let myself relax, didn’t let myself calm, not ready to find out if my thoughts would take me. Instead, I took in the full room, the window with the single pane looking out over the extension roof from where we’d come, looking out on to the roof next door where we wanted to be, looking down at the sea of the dead which hadn’t thinned even one bit.

Inside the room I pulled out the drawers, raked out clothes looking for what, I wasn’t sure. Inside the room I rifled through the wardrobe, jabbing at the buttons on the electronic safe while I listened to its negative reply. Pushing the hanging clothes to the side, I pulled out empty suitcases, my smile gleaming at the sight of the gun case,  heart screaming at the luck finding the baseball bat at its side.

I turned with both in hand, passing the rifle to Ryan, who pulled it from the case, but his expression lacked my excitement.

“It’s an air rifle,” he said. I thought for a moment, fighting against the drop in my will.

“Any bullets?” I said watching him crank the barrel like he was snapping it in two, then pulled a bag of what looked like metal balls from inside as he nodded. I ran to the window, a plan already forming, but the view was no good, just gardens edged on the vast space of the moor. I ran to the chest of drawers covering the door and without dropping the bat, I heaved the drawers to the side with only a last minute hand from Ryan.

Bat out in front, I looked left and right. With the coast clear and no noise coming from the room we’d left the creature, I stepped out into the hallway and we were through the second door, raking the curtains to the side, breath pulling in as I saw between the two rows of houses the road teeming with dead soldiers and residents, some of which I recognised from our last visit. I didn’t linger on their faces for fear of what my mind would project, instead I fixed on the cars parked outside each house, most of them only a few years old, most of them perfect for my plan.

I turned to Ryan.

“You any good?” I said, nodding to the rifle. He looked down at the gun and shrugged his shoulders, giving me wide eyes in return. I’d never fired one before and turned away, scanning again, eventually pointing the bat and looking down its length to the furthest away car. A Freelander in a dark red, but the details didn’t matter. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t look confused, but still I told him to make sure he understood. “The windows, right?” 

He nodded, matching my expression and I turned away. Covering my eyes, I jabbed the bat end-on shattering the glass, turning and wheeling it around to remove the remaining shards. As the music rained all around, landing to the carpet and to the tarmac outside, we snapped back behind us, the corridor alive with the sound of heavy thuds against the door.

“Do it,” I shouted, holding back the full force of my voice and I turned around the room, cursing myself for not blocking the doorway before, searching around the edge, frantically trying to find the large piece of furniture I needed to block the door, but finding it wasn’t there, the room only filled with a light divan bed, a cheap wooden frame surrounded in thick cardboard. Still, I shut the door, cursing as it slammed with the draft, heard the chair wheel along the corridor and come to a rest. “Do it,” I said when I hadn’t heard the push of air. With the bat up high, gripped with both hands, after a practice swinging its weight through the air, I turned to Ryan, watching his eye to the sight, watching him move the gun and steady his feet, pushing the butt into his shoulder. The chair careered along the corridor a second time and he took his eye away, glancing back. I raised the bat ready for the door to swing and heard the puff of air. Holding my breath in the long silence I urged it to fill with the car’s screaming alarm.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

The scream came next, a shrill call in tune with the outward spray of glass. I stumbled back, pulling the ladder with me as I grabbed the metal for safety, but still I fell. Ryan’s body caught my weight and together we collapsed to the roof, the cold metal following. With no chance to recover from the shock, I peered up, pushed the ladder away, willing my ears to close off the pain, eyes watching as from the window the creature burst out in a blur, bringing with it the remaining shards of glass.

My legs wheeled in circles as I struggled to my feet, Ryan’s arms in the same frenzy, words coming, shouting his disbelief. Scrabbling to his feet, his hand on my arm, his view alternating between me and seeking the creature who’d jumped right over us and disappeared from view. We looked to each other, looked to the ground, span to the window, eyes wide peering as we held our feet firm. Neither of us knew what to do, we waiting, questioning why the inevitable hadn’t already happened.

After what seemed like an age, but was more than likely just a fleeting second, I picked up the ladder, Ryan grabbing the other side and just as we got our grip, the creatures was in view, jumping from the ground, shaking the roof as it landed, standing before us, its bloodshot eyes wide, chest heaving for air, recovering its breath. At first I couldn’t believe the pause, looked to Ryan, but this was his first view, but not mine, I’d seen these before. I’d shot one over and again and watched it stay upright, charging onward with a fury at home in a horror film. Now it stood before me, its naked, blood soaked, heavy belly sagging out in front. If I didn’t know better, I could have sworn it was tired and drunk from its full stomach.

I didn’t wait more than a blink of an eye, surged forward, Ryan bringing the rest of the ladder at my side, taking no time to understand my plan. The creature could have jumped, could have charged forward, but just seemed to watch, only acting when it was too late, giving a dulled call, a weak scream costing it more breath, and unable to hold us back, its feet stepped off the edge and fell to the ground, taking at least one of dead with it.

We didn’t look over, our instincts told us it wouldn’t be that easy, told us we had to go, had to act, we’d been given a gift and would be dead if we didn’t take full advantage. Ryan let go of the ladder so I could take hold and I hopped with wide steps across the roof, planting the feet of the ladder as I pulled apart each half. Running, I clambered up the side, jumping in through the window, missing the glass, not looking back, already knowing why the ground was sticky and wet, my eyes concentrating on finding the door I could put between us and the creature when it followed. 

Through the open door, my eyes flitted along the hallway, only now looking back and seeing the disgust in Ryan’s face as he looked to his hands after rolling away from the landing.

“Come on,” I said trying to keep my voice low and he jumped up, his feet slipping as he struggled for traction in the mess, eventually bursting through the doorway, then settling back, leaning with me to the door, our lungs pumping the surrounding air, my mind desperate to slow the pull, the whistle of wind, knowing the creature must have got in somehow and if it could get inside, then others would lurk ready to pounce when their opportunity came.

We weren’t followed. 

The house was silent.

We weren’t followed. If we believed our ears.

The low rubble of breath over dormant vocal cords had become the norm and now with it gone it felt like something was missing, something wasn’t right. At least when you could hear their low hum you knew they were there and could prepare. Now in the silence I felt blind, didn’t know if they were there and were just being quiet. I wanted to be back out in the open. I wanted to see all around, hated being inside the house, hated the confinement.

A drip of sweat drifted down my forehead, my hand already clammy as I swatted the droplet away shaking my head, feeling my breath running away. I pulled at Ryan’s arm and he looked, concern in his eyes, but he didn’t move, held the door firm pushing with his back. I raised my right hand, opening the palm and he grabbed my wrist. I raised my left and he grabbed it too, as my heart raced and my head went light having my hands bound once again, I heard the thump of something heavy landing on the other side of the door.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

He didn’t catch me, didn’t stop my fall, didn’t pull me back as I raced down face first to the rungs. Instead, I collapsed to the metal, hands grabbing a hold either side, gripping hard, the sting of my arm tightening as I took the weight. The two halves of the ladder clattered against each other, the metal jumping, snapping back together. I held firm waiting for when the ladder would turn and twist, falling with the metal into the crowd who even if they couldn’t infect me, would frenzy, pulling flesh from my bones.

The ladder stayed put, despite the claw of nails down my face as hundreds of fingers willed me to the ground.

“Go,” came Ryan’s voice from my back. My pause ended and I pushed up, arms outstretched, the tips of my feet on top of the rungs, surging forward, giving full respect to the ladder as it stayed in place. My feet slipped off but I recovered over and again until I could rest on the solid roof the other side. I turned before I calmed myself, fear raining down as I worried for the strength of the wood underneath my feet, but I hadn’t collapsed yet and held my ground, watching as Ryan took my lead, using his hands and feet to guide him quickly to my side. The ladder fell as he pushed off the last step and I bounded over, forgetting my fears for the roof, skidding to my knees, feeling the sting of skin coming loose, but I had the cold metal in my hand and yanked and pulled it free from a tangle of hands and arms and heads, slapping it side to side, jabbing at heads for no other reason than to vent my tension.

Ryan helped me to my feet, helped lift the ladder, settling in down to the roof, his movement as stilted as mine, his caution understandable. We both looked back to the wreck of a roof we’d left behind, the felt ripped away and two great holes where they hadn’t been before. The guilt weighed like a knot in my stomach. It was someone else’s house. Someone else who might by alive and when all this was all over, if they returned, they’d feel the devastation we’d caused.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan said and I turned, my face fixed in a scowl, not hiding my anger pointed in his direction.

“That’s someone’s house,” I said. He turned back to the wreckage and nodded and gave what I thought was a shallow shrug. “Don’t you feel guilty?” I replied, my face turning to a scowl.

“Sure,” he replied and turned away. “But what’s the alternative,” he said as he bent for the ladder, looking towards the pitched angle of the next extension’s roof.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot,” I said, letting my voice harden. He turned, his face nonplussed, the ladder still held in his hand.

“Sorry?” he replied. I took a step toward him.

“I forgot you wreck lives for a living,” I said and walked past him, knocking the ladder in his hands as I did.

“You have no idea,” he said with no change to the tone of his voice. I stopped, turned back and he held my eyes, his expression didn’t change, his eyes snatching away only for a moment from the slope of the next roof. I turned away, this wasn’t the time, and took in my own view of the tiles.

The pitch wasn’t too great, if we could get onto the roof it was shallow enough for us to climb with probable ease, little fear of slipping down, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how the hell we would get across.

At least we had time. At least we were safe for now and I turned on the spot, Ryan doing the same search for inspiration, both of us coming up empty. Then I looked the windows just about our heads, noted the single panes of glass, looked to Ryan and he raised an eyebrow in return and pulled the ladder nodding, opened the metal either side and set it on the roof. I didn’t wait for him to take his first step, didn’t wait to listen to his argument and I climbed, raising up the level and squinted in from the light to the dark. With little surprise, I stared into the bedroom, a double bed in the centre, the quilt ruffled, the sheet cast half off and I could see the mattress, could see the dark, abstract pattern on the white and took no note, my heart only sinking when I took another step up and saw the white of the bones on the floor, the mess of blood underneath, the leather like covering discarded to the side. I watched the blood up the side of the bed, its brightness catching stark in the light from this angle.

I felt bile rise from my stomach, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the bones, the flesh missing, picked clean, scattered around the floor. I couldn’t help fear for the creature, searching the room for signs of it still there. Ryan asked if I was okay, a reply to the sharp intake of breath when my eyes caught on the skull cracked in two across the eye sockets, the contents of the protective shell missing. I never gave a reply, didn’t have a chance before a bloodied face appeared at the window from below, its mouth chewing in a round circle like a cow, a thin collection of bones, a hand, hanging from its mouth, dropping to the floor as its eyes flared and its forehead surged toward the thin layer of glass and my only protection.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

I’d like to say I fell gracefully, keeping an elegant line while the chipboard crumpled, while my feet snapped open the plaster beneath. I’d like to say I didn’t scream, didn’t wave my arms wild at my sides despite the pain as I abandoned the previous second of planning. I’d like to say I watched the fall, stared with my expression fixed, a picture of composure as the floor raced towards me, watching as I knocked the ghouls out of the way either side. I’d like to say I didn’t open my eyes only as my legs bent and I arrived cursing the slap of the ground to my knees, broken bones only prevented by the crack of plasterboard catching my fall.

Ryan stood as I raced to my feet knowing either side the creatures would climb to their own. Their slow, toddler awkwardness my only advantage. Fists balled, I stepped forward, eyes fixed on this dazed expression, seeking hope, recognition, searching for any sign of humanity.

He blinked.

I racked my brain for meaning. Was it only a human action? Had I seen the creatures blink?

“Speak,” I shouted, knocking him sideways as I jumped over the mound, my hands landing either side of the cold metal ladder. Still, he hadn’t uttered a word as I swung around, pushing out each half and thrusting it to the floor, my feet already to the second rung as it landed, swaying to the side with rubber resting on the even ground.

Back to the roof, crawling to my front, I twisted, turning, scraping across the sodden board as I landed, peering down below, my hands back to the top rung, ready to hoist it high and out through the hole if Ryan no longer wanted to follow. He stared up, mouth wide and coughed.

The dead didn’t cough.

“Ryan,” I shouted, eyes wide looking to his side where the creatures were on their feet and closing, teetering with traction on the rubble. He blinked, recognition there, he turned, twisted sideways, eyes alarming as he caught the sight. Grabbing the rungs, he sprung alive with action, climbing, feet kicking, slapping away hands before they could get a grip. Dust rained down as he climbed to the edge, following my lead, spreading himself as thin as he could, but I turned away as soon as I knew he was out of their reach, pulled at the aluminium, yanking hard to take it from their grip, hands reaching high and I pulled, Ryan’s hand grabbing hold, pulling up the ladder, swatting, jabbing each wayward, clawed finger.

I climbed to my feet, resting each on the line of the beam beneath, pointing to the edge of the hole as Ryan’s face alarmed. My eyes settled a shape to the floor in the centre from where Ryan had risen. The shape of a gun, covered in a white dusting. I turned, his own had followed.

“I’m sorry,” he said and I turned away.

“As long as you’re all right,” I replied, my voice coming out flat, hands grappling with the ladder, forcing it to fold as I walked along the imaginary tightrope.

“I’m sorry,” he said again as he joined me, the remains of dust floating down as he stepped to where the end beam held firm underneath, his foot sinking as he let his weight settle.

I didn’t reply, stuffing the anger, pushing it down and together we held the ladder, one side each, eyes fixed ahead on the flat roof opposite, slowly lowering until the angle grew too great, its length too far for us to do anything but hold back the fall, guiding the drop with a hope it would reach the other side.

It reached, but only just, the width of the top rung barely at the edge, hands clawing to the air, my eyes alarmed as bloody tips of fingers tapped and clawed against the hollow metal. We had to race, had to get across before something tall, something with long arms come along and grabbed a leg or tipped our bridge as we clambered over.

Looking to Ryan, he nodded across the ladder, showing I should go first, his chest puffing as if to stay behind, to go second would be the more dangerous operation. I didn’t wait, didn’t linger to change his mind. One of us had to go first. I scratched and scraped my soles on the remainder of the felt and put the first of my weight on the metal and slipped, falling forward, the river of upturned foul faces, their clawed fingers outstretched racing to meet me as I descended. 

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

With my arms either side, flat against the cold brick, I held my breath as the dust and chaos of the moment settled, my ears keen for his call to say he was fine, for the shout through ragged breath he’d made it down safely. The dust stopped falling, but the only noise came from the grotesque crowd’s excitement as their instincts told them they were about to feed.

I took a tentative step, it would serve no purpose to join him at his side on the floor as I imagined him curled. I sank to my knees, dropping to my hands, the pain in my arm easy to ignore as I spread the weight across my limbs in hope, in desperation, to get close. The surface felt springing, giving just a little as each part of me touched, felt as if with just a little more pressure I would by his side. I crept forward, craning my ears but all I could hear was the racket of creatures crowding, there was no sound of effort from below, no stirring of a man trying to get to his feet, trying to raise himself before the creature at the window realised a tasty treat waiting below.

I shot a glance behind me and up to the window and sped, cursing my caution when I saw no shadows behind the glass and I soon arrived at the edge peering down. At first I saw the mess of debris, split, sodden wooden sheets, folded, bent and buckled, broken apart with the white dust of plaster, scant remains still hanging from the ceiling. My eyes followed the neat lines of thick wooden beams, their surface dark, covered with a frosting of mould where in-between the chipboard had completely gone. Laying my front flat to the wood, I edged myself forward, peering in, eyes fixed on the centre of the mess, hoping, urging the pile to move.

The extension was a workshop, tools lined the walls hanging on metal, a wooden bench ran along the closest wall, notched and paint flecked from years of hard use. I looked to the tools and tried to think how they could use each, if, I corrected my thoughts. Once, we’d got over this hump. Then I saw it, saw the clear of the metal ladder sat in the corner at an angle, its length too great to fit flat to the wall. It would be perfect to bridge the gap, perfect for Ryan to climb back out and out of trouble. All he had to do was wake up.

I saw movement, spotted it at the bottom of my vision, but not in the centre as I expected. A sheet of plaster pushing up from the edge. I shuffled forward as far as I dared, leaning my head down whilst holding on to the soaked edge, my eyes searching out Ryan’s hands or his legs pushing the pile, waiting for him to rise, to appear from the mess. I caught sight of a foot, upside down from my perspective as I hung. The boot had a thin covering of mud, flakes falling off as it rose and fell over and over, trying to raise high enough to mount the pile, but not managing. I stared on, couldn’t understand how Ryan was standing, was at the edge and I crept further forcing myself out of what I thought was a safe distance over the limit of the beam to get a better look.

With my new vantage I regretted the improvement to the view, regretted the blood soaked trousers connected to the boots, the second pair of legs joining at their side. A creature from upstairs, or fresh from through the front door, it didn’t matter, and now the pile below me rose, another groan, adding to the low moans already filling the air. Ryan’s hair coming through the rubble as he sat up. His face covered in plaster dust, his complexion pallid, pale like the creature’s at his front, the only colour coming from a line of bright red dripping from a scratch to his forehead. If he hadn’t died and turned from the fall, he would soon succumb to the fate unless I did something and did it now.

I stood, taking care where I placed my feet behind me, then jumped as I high in the air as I could, clenching my teeth and pulling my hand tight to my chest.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

Stepping back from the edge of the roof I looked up, Ryan’s hand steadying me with a touch at my arm. The stench continued to rise from between the houses and writhing bodies walking on two feet, hands in the air, fingers clawed, scratching at the brick for traction. Looking away before I had a chance to see her in the crowd, I turned to Ryan, his eyes falling to my bandage and the crimson brightening the white.

I twisted, moving my arm from his view, looked up and across, watching the crowds gathered, waves of the dead rippling forward in every space, every patch of ground. I turned back to the van, my eyes dragging along the seething path we would have to take to get to the goal I had no choice over. Looking back, I caught movement in the house from the window where we’d climbed. I turned to Ryan, his eyes locking with mine.

“What now?” I said, then shook my head, turning away, frustration racing my heart each time I landed on a surface free of the swarm, but each out of reach without a helicopter or a dash through scratching hands and biting teeth surging for us even now while we were out of reach. Directly in front of me and between the van, were six or more houses, their back gardens at least, all but one had a single storey extension of some size, more or less as deep as the one we stood on, around three meters projecting out, all but one with a flat roof, but it didn’t matter, the gulf between each much longer than we could dream of ever jumping.

I looked around the garden, but only with half a heart, it didn’t matter if an aluminium bridge lay on the grass, the teeming crowd of scraping clawed hands and snapping mouths would get us the moment we dropped to the ground. I didn’t find what I needed. As my anger grew I could feel blood pounding in the wound and I turned at a strange high sound ripping over the low moan. With surprise I found Ryan not standing at my side, a sprint of panic lit up inside me until I saw him kneeling by the edge of the roof as if he was about to climb down.

“What the hell? You won’t stand a chance,” I said rushing towards him, the steps sponging as if compressing the insulation under the felt. About to grab his arm, he lifted, the bitumen felt coming away in his hand, a curious smile on his lips. I stood back, let met myself calm on my heels, pulling in my breath as he turned back around, his cheeks still bunched. “What are you doing?” I said, moving around his side along the centre of the roof to get a better view.

He didn’t speak at first, his breath lost in the effort as he stood, the muscles in his arms building against his shirt as he heaved at the felt and it stuttered up, the nails popping as they gave out their grip.

“We need to get something to bridge the gap,” he said, flicking a look over his shoulder. “Can’t think of anything else. You?”

I ignored the question and he didn’t linger for the answer.

After standing at his side for a moment thinking his plan through, I leant in, I’d had no ideas and he let me take the felt which I dragged back with my good arm, while he stood to the edge and inspected what we revealed.

Beneath the felt were chipboard panels with no insulation, its surface swollen with water, scattered with stubborn nails still in the surface with skirts of the old felt.

“Will it hold?” I said drawing back to the edge next to the brick. Ryan didn’t answer, but the wood did, as did the dust spraying out of the gaping hole he disappeared through.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

I woke to birdsong, but the music went the moment my eyes opened, replaced with a relentless scratch and scrape echoing from the stairwell. A dark figure stood looking out through the window, turning as I moved, their features in shadow. A sharp pull of breath sent my head ringing with a hangover of pain, my neck stiff as I looked down my body. Sitting up in the bed, lain on the duvet covered with blood, my legs were clean, arm high across my chest, the wound dressed, bandage still white, crisp and new, beside the pink of the oval already healed.

The first bite flashed through my mind. The haze still covering my time back in the compound, the teeth in my flesh, the feverish nightmare I’d let my mind park out of sight.

“The bleeding’s stopped,” Ryan said stepping from the light, his downcast features coming into focus.

“I’m not going to die,” I said. Now was not a time to be coy, he deserved that much for staying at my side, cleaning me up when he thought it was the end for me, thought if I woke I would be alone, a ravaging hunger coursing through my veins. He deserved to know even if it meant he would run a mile.

Ryan watched my arm as I bit down on the pain as I lifted.

“The tests?” he said. I nodded, raising my eyebrows. “What did they do to you?”

I paused, speaking when I realised I was thinking too much.

“They gave me an antidote.”

His eyes went wide.

“There’s a cure?” he said, his voice high, words coming quick, face alive, lit bright, but shrank away at my reluctance to reply.

“A vaccine,” I said looking away. I could see the thoughts running through his brain, the twitches of his brow as he tried to figure out my words.

“You were bitten after they gave you the medicine?” he said, eyes widening.

I nodded.

“They were testing the vaccine,” I said.

“That’s horrible, but,” he said pausing. “Good at the same time right?” he said seeing my eyes close.

“It wasn’t ready.”

He shook his head, his features bunching.

I tried to sit up, but the world span, my arm felt as if tied to a weight keeping it down.

“Don’t get up. You lost a lot of blood,” Ryan said turning around and grabbed a pint glass full of water and a packet of digestives open in the other hand. “Have something to eat,” he said pushing the cup to my good hand.

“We need to move,” I said.

“It’ll hold for a little while longer,” he replied, listening to the unchanging sounds coming from downstairs.

“No,” I said between sips, the water cold on my lips, absorbing into my pores the moment it touched my skin. “We need to get to the van. I need the cameras,” I said.

“Don’t be in such a hurry,” he said as I crunched the second digestive.

“Look,” I said, letting my eyes close for a moment as I tried to slow the spin. “I’m on a course of treatment. The last dose, hopefully, is in the van too and I need it before nightfall.”

He didn’t speak, instead watched as I ate, his head turning side to side.

“What happens if you don’t?” he said, but didn’t finish the sentence.

I paused, knowing what I should say, knowing what I wanted to say would be too much, should be too much for anyone to take. I watched as he raised his eyebrows in our silence. He expected an answer. He deserved an answer.

“Do you turn into a werewolf?” he said, forcing a laugh. Part of me was glad when I heard the front door collapse under the assault, but soon changed my mind when Ryan pushed his arms under my knees and at my back, scooping me up, my breath going from my lungs, chest tightening, water spilling to the bed. He didn’t rush, took great care, carrying me out of the door. Through blurred vision I saw the creature no longer in the doorway and my thoughts sprang for the gun, but the light had gone and I couldn’t see it on the floor. We were in the hallway and his pace hurried, soon out the other side, in another room, the window wide open and I balanced on the window ledge, daylight bright in my face. Cold air stole what was left of the breath from my lungs, the drop to the other side would have robbed the rest if any remained.

“Give me your hands,” he said and I turned, the world a soggy mess as I looked down to mattresses piled on the flat roof. Despite his preparations, I could predict the pain. “Give me your hands,” he said and I could do nothing else but what he told. With a firm grip he lowered me down, the bite screaming with pain until my feet touched cushion of the springs. I wobbled off to the bitumen roof, leaning against the brick to slow the vertigo and felt a weight hit the mattress, a rucksack, the wooden roof beneath giving just a little as he landed at its side. With my head settling, my heart leapt as I looked up and there it was. Seen across the gardens at the back of the row of houses, the van glistened in the bright morning light. It was in one piece, but soon the excitement died when at its back I couldn’t miss the hastily erected metal fence hemming in the densest collection of the creatures I’d ever seen, the van rocking side to side as time and again the walking dead crashed and bounced off its paintwork.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

He was there before the pain finished its journey, forcing past me, brushing my shoulder, the knife through the creature’s pale temple in the same movement, its teeth letting go as it went limp. He stumbled over the body, falling, rolling, the knife left behind as he tumbled. His eyes were all around the room, his hand on the hilt, pulling, wiping the blade on the clean edges of the bedcover. He turned, his featured coming to rest on mine.

He stared into my eyes, not looking at my hand covering the wound, blood dripping between my fingers, messing the floor. He stared on, face blank and I replied locking my eyes, waiting for his reaction. A heavy bang on the front door came from downstairs, his face lit and we separated, our eyes parting, his mouth closed, head shaking in slow motion. He ran past, making himself small, trying his best not to touch my arm as he sprinted from the room. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the pain, the pulse of energy shooting out from the wound. I heard footsteps on floor boards racing away and I stumbled forward, almost tripping over the body, my senses too overwhelmed to take in all but the edge of the creatures smell.

I sat on the corner of the bed following my trail mixing with the dark of the creature’s, watching the blots of blood shrink then expand, a record of my journey as the blood continue to ooze, to make its way from the surface of the gun I’d dropped to the carpet as my first reaction. I tried to concentrate past the pain, tried to ignore the hurried escape of the man I’d misread, reaching out for what was happening in the wound, sensing, imagining the tiny diseased critters invading my blood. The start of the war I knew I’d lose.

A calm came over me as the pain lulled to a thud, a dull ache to the beat of my heart slowing every other moment, until I moved, until I tried to pull off the jacket one handed. At least the scarlet was only a little darker than the two piece Toni had picked out, it shouldn’t dry too dark before I could reach the cameras and make my first, make my last, piece.

I stood and landed back down to my butt, my head light, swimming, lolling around in my skull. I would need a moment to compose myself, to let the blood stop, although the growing puddle falling down my lap, running along my legs told me I may need to give it some help.

With a deep breath I let the jacket from my shoulders, pushing past the world shrinking to a spot in the centre of my vision, waiting only a moment for the dark border to retreat before I lifted the arm I doubted I could use for much longer, tugging at the collar, pain surging, but only for a moment before the darkness took over.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

I’d let go of his wrist, but still felt him by my side, his body twisting as he searched for a way out. While I tried to slow my breath, I felt his warm hand linked into mine, gripping hard, gripping tight, pulling across my chest. My body followed, feet soon after, if only to stop me falling face first to the tarmac. He took control, had me completely. I gave no resistance as he dragged me toward the row of houses, my feet barely keeping up as we headed to the opposite side of the street to where we’d arrived. To our right the metal fence rang with fingers scratching, hands slapping, shoulders barging as teeth snapped and the metal pulled its grip against the wooden posts rocking, swaying with each wave of effort.

His hand released and I slowed, a weight pulling at my chest as if I’d lost something, some part of me, my gravity. He didn’t slow, raced passed the garden gate, shoulder first. Not stopping to test the handle, he barged at the door. I saw his pain. Saw the shatter of his bones, his agony as the door held, seconds before he connected. What was wrong with me? I’d lost all will. I’d lost all hope, could hardly believe what I was seeing as the door gave, his shoulder connecting, wood splitting at his side as he took the barrage in his stride without a stumble, not faltering, only pausing to make sure I’d followed.

I had and I hated him for it.

Ryan ignored me, stepping past to push what remained of the door back into its hole, rushing back past me to the living room, grabbing at the straight back chair, barely noticing as I moved out of his way and climbed the stairs.

I hated the way I felt. Hated my growing anger. Hated the resentment brewing each time he took control, each time I stumbled, but still the anger rose with each step, the cloud in my head thickened as the seconds ticked by. I knew I should have been alert. I knew no matter what I’d been through these last few days, no matter how wronged I’d been, how unfair the world had been, it owed me nothing. All my life I’d been a strong independent woman who had needed no one else to get me what I needed, to keep me safe, to achieve my goals, the goals I’d set for myself. I’d never needed a man to hold my hand, never needed a woman to take the lead. I’d made difficult choices in my life, but they were my choices and I’m here right now because of me, not because of some woman who’d chosen to bring me into their mess, or some man who thought he was my hero come to save my life and turn me from my current path.

As I reached the top step, I saw the mess. As I reached the top step, I realised how stupid the words sounded in my head. I pointed the gun and tried to push the thoughts away as I scoured the landing, following the trail of blood back down between my legs, following the scarlet track which should have been obvious so much sooner, the volume lessening as it fell. I followed it back up, lingering on the pool of blood just past the top step, soaked into the grey carpet and stepped, the wood creaking with my weight.

I’d made it up in my head. He wasn’t trying to take control. He’d done what any person would have done, any brave individual, any selfless person. I’d frozen, my brain clogged with grief, clogged with too much, with no chance to resolve any of it. Now was not the time, I knew, but I wasn’t in control. I shook my head as I took another step. He wasn’t trying to change my path. I was the first, my head was the first to bring it up. He’d done nothing wrong.

The floor creaked as my foot pressed weight on the carpet. I should stop, I knew, but my brain asked why I should wait for the man to come and take control. I shouldn’t have listened to the voice. My voice in my head. I shouldn’t have kept taking those steps, should have listened to the feet running behind me, shouldn’t have opened the door, should have let go when I felt the handle, sticky with what anyone would know was blood. I should have left it alone, waited, called for his help, he would soon be behind me. I should have left it well alone. I had nothing to prove. I didn’t need to turn the metal I kept in my hand, didn’t need to push open and look into the room, letting the daylight flood into the corridor until the sun shadowed with the lunge of the creature, its teeth sinking deep into my arm.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

“No,” I shouted as Ryan reached for the gun, with no pause in his reaction as it thud to the grass. His hand froze, hovering just above its black and our eyes caught, breaking off as the sound of movement came from in front, the sound too loud, too busy for what we’d seen. Alarm lit our faces at the crowd of bodies ambling around the corner, none of which had been there only a moment before. With my breath already caught, it felt as if a vacuum pulled my lungs from my chest as I saw Toni, her chest rended wide, ribs pulled clean of their flesh with a blanket of thick, clotted blood covering her face.

I looked to the Toni pulling her intestines behind her, snatched a look straight back to her double with the white of her ribs bared. I knew only one could be Toni, despite what my eyes were screaming, knew even when I saw her for the third time, her clothes a perfect match, at least what remained, at least what I thought the colours would be underneath the blood and dirt. 

I saw her head on every other body, saw her smile on mouths hanging slack. I looked between each, stared at the face of a solider, the face of a man dressed in military fatigues, a rifle hanging loose around his front. He wasn’t her, I was sure, but I couldn’t look elsewhere, couldn’t let my imagination take over. I would have calmed, should have calmed, should have taken a deep breath and centred myself, but Ryan had taken my pause to reach for the gun and he’d raised up and pointed it out to the crowd. Blinking, his motion slow, all I could do was observe, could watch, seek his line of sight, follow where he pointed. Straight at Toni.

“No,” I screamed, regretting the volume as the world came back in focus. I grabbed both hands around his upper arm and yanked. The gun went off and I screamed again. “No,” I could move, but didn’t grab the gun. With a twitch I saw the shot must have missed, each still stood as I pulled him hard. Letting go with one hand fixed tight, he followed as I dragged him behind.

A second from the low fence I put my faith in him and let go, jumping as high as I could, pulling my legs around the side, barely stumbling as I landed. I kept running, racing through the garden, chasing down the house, eyes fixed on the bright green back door, only looking back as I pushed the handle down and it held under my weight.

He’d followed. Relief lit my face, raising my cheeks when I saw he wasn’t aiming the gun towards me, wasn’t carrying a thin smile as he forced me to do his bidding. Relief raised the corners of my mouth until my focus fell at his back, fell to the creature falling over the short fence, the resemblance still there as they floundered to their feet the other side, our side, already making their slow but dogged journey in our direction as I watched.

His hand grabbed at mine, pushing the gun into my grip, his other at my back drawing me away from their route, pushing me in front, down the side of the house and the second short fence. I was numb to the climb, to the cautious raise of my leg as I stepped over the chain-link while Ryan held it low. I didn’t look on to where I’d landed, to the other side while Ryan climbed, my eyes fixed on my thigh exposed by the long rip up the side of my skirt rising to the waistband, trying to think back to when it happened, knowing Toni would be cross. If she’d lived long enough.

“Jess,” Ryan said, grabbing me by the shoulders, shaking. I looked up and saw the concern in his face. He shook again and I seemed to watch, despite not realising I’d been anything but wide awake. My eyes fell over his shoulder, the resemblance still there in too many places. I nodded, pulling in a breath, sounds crisp again, despite not realising they’d become anything but. I turned, grabbing his wrist despite him running parallel to my side not needing encouragement. My eyes ran across the view, jumping every few steps to launch over the bloodied mess of bodies littering the once sleepy village street.

I’d seen the Tee junction. I’d seen the steeple of the church, couldn’t quite see the white of the van but knew I shouldn’t be able to from here. I’d seen the street thick with Zombies, but hadn’t connected there being nowhere to go. It was the pull of Ryan’s wrist guiding me away from the junction, the road littered with the smoking remains of Land Rovers and trucks and black sticky piles with steam still rising nearby.

We’d turned around, had no choice, found no alternative, all but one house on each side of the once quiet street had their doors open and movement ambled toward each opening from inside. We had nowhere to go but back the way we’d came and we ran until we saw the creatures which had followed climbing up from the grass as they pulled up from their fall our side of the second short chain link fence.

I looked to the sky for a miracle. I looked to the blood soaked ground at my feet as we pulled up. I looked to Ryan and his wide eyes twitching to every point in view. I didn’t know how many bullets remained, but I had enough to make sure we both could make the choice not to be eaten alive.

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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

“What next?” Ryan said, but I barely heard the words, my concentration fixed on scouring everywhere but the house where I’d been held, the house where I’d shot the gun, the house where I’d done the deed I couldn’t bring myself to think on. I was glad of his interruption when he spoke again. “I have a cousin in the next village over. We could hold out with him?” he said. I sped my pace, twisting back to see his face in the burgeoning light, his weathered complexion for the first time without the shadows. It wasn’t an unpleasant sight. The thought reminded me of Toni, reminded me of the look she would shoot, the accusation she’d give just with her narrowed eyes.

“Nothing’s changed,” I said turning back as he jogged to catch up.

“You’re looking at the same place right?”

I nodded and he stared on before speaking again.

“They’re hemmed in, packed in like kippers,” he said.

“Sardines,” I said.

“Yeah, whatever. Fish in a tin. They’ve shut them in there for a reason,” he said looking to the sky, which was now mostly blue.

“I get it,” I said and speeded my descent.

“And you’re still going in?” he said hurrying at my side.

“I have no choice.”

“We can get another camera,” he said, but by now I was jogging, the distance between us growing as we closed in on the village. By now with each breath of wind I caught the concentrated odour, could hear the low grumbling moan, the ground itself seemed to rumble as it to complain at the weight of the creatures. The metal fence panels swayed in and out, the creak of the metal clamps scratching to keep hold. Through the gaps between the metal sheets clamped together to the vertical poles, constant movement passed back and forth. Somehow I knew Ryan was about to talk and I turned, light full on his face, his mouth open, words primed to spring out. He paid attention to my request, my index finger to my lips, then pointing to the slow sway of the fence, he changed course with me, heading to the right and the wooden fence panels marking the start of the village’s gardens.

Not slowing from the jog I followed the path of the fence, not able to see over, but I could feel the house, cold sweat ran down my spine and I picked up the pace, slowing only when we came to a corner. Around the turn the fences were lower and made from chain-link, the deserted gardens easy to see. I kept my eyes flitting to the windows, looking for movement, for signs of life. There’d been many people, tens of villagers caught up in the fright the last time I’d been here. Was it last night? I said to myself, trying to remember the details. I wanted to see movement at the windows, hands waving, anything but open-mouthed stares. I needed to see reason still for the Army not to forsake this place, to lock it up, light the blue touch paper and stand well away. They’d evacuate first, right? Then again if that woman was in charge, maybe my hopes would be unfounded.

We ran on, neither speaking, not even when I saw the familiar row of houses, the row we’d first come across, where we’d stood and seen the two runners chased, dropped to the floor, at least one of their lives ended, leaving just hope for the remainder. I saw the back of the house where we’d escaped over the roof. Saw movement, but those memories were clear. The house was a bust. We’d run because I’d let them in to save the boy. For a moment I wandered if he was safe, if the woman, already forgetting her name, was looking after him, or was alive at all. I let the thoughts drop, I only had enough emotional energy to keep it together.

“Jess,” Ryan’s sharp but quiet call pulled me back from my memories and about to admonish him for breaking the silence, I saw the reason for the word, his outstretched arm, finger pointed to the movement which had caught his eye. A woman with her back to us, her spine pronounced through the thin bright running top I’d seen before, the two great rends of flesh where the material broke in ragged tears. She was the second jogger, the one I’d hoped had survived. I let my eyes close, but just for a second, I told myself, just enough to take a deep breath. I had time, she hadn’t seen us yet and I imagined her drawn features, drawing on what I’d seen at a distance. Her mouth hanging slack as her attention focused on the metal fence which hadn’t been there last night, but she wasn’t trying to escape, she was trying to get in, she was on our side.

I stopped, Ryan halting, and watching his wide eyes snapping around, but I could see nothing in the overgrown grass he’d could use to improvise as a weapon. I pulled the gun up, but I wouldn’t fire, it would be a last resort, knowing we had to get inside quietly, the shot would call the dead over and our easy hop over the fence into their enclosed territory would turn to a death sentence.

I took a step and a twig I hadn’t seen snapped under my foot. I stopped. Holding my breath, I flashed a look to Ryan who stared back, both of us drawing in relief which blew straight out as we twisted back around. The woman still hadn’t turned, but coming around the corner another stared in our direction already picking up speed, her hands rising in the air as my gun fell from my grip, stomach stabbed as if hit with a bold of lighting. It was Toni, her face red with blood, shredding with deep scratches, hair missing, scalp gone with it, the white of her skull on show for all to see, her stomach an open cavity, intestines uncoiled like a rope dragging behind.

Thanks for reading and if you enjoyed, let me know in the comments or Like my Facebook page.

Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.

“Mother-in-law?” he said, the words tailing off.

“I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean Mother-in-law, I meant something else. She’s the mother of my,” I stopped, the words confused in my head. Toni hadn’t been my girlfriend for longer than two weeks and only way back when we didn’t know what happened when we spent long periods together. Yes, we’d seen each other plenty of times since, snatched time together as our memories lapsed. We’d laid in each other’s arms, but only for the briefest of moments had I considered calling her anything but a friend. I paused on the word. It didn’t sit right either, even more so now she’d handed me over to the woman who’d plunged an infected needle in me, who’d locked me in a cage to see what happened. Breath caught in my mouth as I rambled inside my head, the images of Toni’s body stumbling back, her hand to her stomach so clear in my head.

“Are you okay?” Ryan said, one hand reaching for my arm, the other in the small of my back as I bent. With his touch I pulled upright, shaking off his grip.

“I tripped, calm down,” I shouted and he pulled away. He didn’t speak and I was glad for the quiet. I needed space to concentrate on pushing away the thoughts as we walked. As time went on my mind went over old ground and I needed him to talk, to fill the void left by my feelings pushed down inside, needed his words as a weight to keep them from rising.

“It’s getting light,” I said my voice low, not turning to see if he’d been watching the first glow of orange on the horizon.

“Yes,” he replied and let the silence cover us again.

“Sorry I snapped,” I said. “I’ve got a lot to deal with, you know. It’s no excuse, but,” I added and he quickened his pace to catch up.

“It’s fine,” he said and I could hear the smile in his voice, seeing the curl of his lips as I turned. It was still too dark to make out the detail, but he seemed to have a smile not compatible with his anti-social line of work. I looked ahead, could see nothing on the horizon as we climbed, the rising light highlighting the clean line of the hilltop. There was still a long way to go.

“So you want to talk now?” he said, his words seemed genuine enough, not an accusation. I nodded. “So what’s all this about? What do you know?”

I should have realised he’d want to talk about the one thing I’d had enough of.

“What do you mean?”

“You said something about what’s going on, the dead reanimating. I’ve seen for myself, but I need to know more,” he said. “From the beginning.”

I got it. I would be the same. I am the same. I’d have to know everything I could in his position.

“It’s patchy, but I’ll do my best,” I said and turned to see him nodding out of the corner of my eye. “From what I can gather it started in a laboratory near to the village. The scientists were doing work on the disease, trying to find a cure, an antidote.” He nodded, only moving his eyes from me to check his footfalls as the ground undulated. “It got out of control. There was infighting about how to deal with it, scientists squabbling about the best approach. I got a call, my girl,” I paused on the word. “Toni, was in trouble and I rushed here to see if I could help.”

“Your girlfriend right?” he said and I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath.

“It’s complicated, but yes,” I said, opening my eyes as the sole of my trainer kicked against a stone. “Anyway, fast forward and it turns out through some questionable ethics, to say they least, the virus or disease, call it want you want, hasn’t only mutated, but the creatures, I want to call them the dead, but that’s not right, they overran the place. Not even the army could deal with it.”

“And that’s when you escaped?” 

I nodded.

“Why you?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Wrong place, wrong time,” I said.

“Where did it come from? The disease?” he said. I paused. It was a good question, one of many I would ask when the gun was in the Doctor’s face. I shook my head.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “All I know is you have to damage the brain to kill them.”

“Like in the movies?” 

“Like in the movies, yes.”

“So,” he said, stopping before he continued. “They’re zombies, right?”

I didn’t reply, but my shoulders gave an involuntary shrug. The name had been on the tip of my tongue since I’d first seen them, but to use the word to describe the creatures seemed both perfect, but too cartoonish, too trivial at the same time.

“They’re the dead come back to life?” he said. I nodded. “They’ve got an insatiable thirst for flesh?” he said. I chewed my bottom lip and gave the slightest tip of my head. “What happens if you get bitten?”

“Okay,” I said. “I get it.” The world obsessed with zombie culture on the TV, in books and in film. Now they’d need to obsess in real life too. “Call them Zombies if it makes you happy,” I replied. The silence hung for a few hundred metres.

“Is this legit?” he said.

“In what way? Do you mean am I telling the truth? Let’s not start that again.”

“No, no, no. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I’ve smelt it, felt their cold skin. I get it,” he said holding up his palms. “I mean the work they were doing, was it legit? Is it the government doing this to us, or is it some rogue outfit?”

I thought about his words. Another sensible question. If he hadn’t chosen the path to his scum of the earth profession, then maybe he would have made a good reporter.

“Like a super villain?” I said.

He laughed. I wasn’t smiling.

“I guess, but less like a comic. If this was sanctioned government work, then surely they would be better prepared. They’d have protocols for protecting against a release, back up, enough protection, enough troops to contain any situation.”

“You could be right,” I said. 

I looked up realising the light was growing fast and we were heading downhill, the sun blueing the sky enough for us to see the buildings looming larger than I would have thought. My eyes drew to the dark smoke stacks rising on the horizon. With each step I could make out more detail, houses, the olive drab trucks parked along the road leading into the village, the road blocked with a tall metal fence gripping tight to the buildings either side, the wooden fence over which I’d jumped, where I’d run, the house I’d run from, its sight sending a shiver down my spine. I slowed, gripping the gun tight and Ryan kept at my side as we stared on trying to make out if the wriggle, the maggot like movement in the streets, could be anything other than a sea of zombies, looking nothing like they did in the cartoons.

Thanks for reading and if you enjoyed, let me know in the comments or Like my Facebook page.

Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.

Not read Season One? Here it is.