The Zombie Saga (Book 3): Burn The Dead: Riot (11 page)

Taking in slow, steady breaths, I try to settle my trembling arms.
I can do this. Money from a wallet. Car keys from a jacket. Easy-peasy.
I move the gag in range again; Ted’s dark saliva-soaked teeth in full view.
Come on, don’t be scared.

Sweat dripping, throat as dry as a bone, I creep a little closer.

Squirming, tugging at his restraint, Ted goes in for another bite.

Oh, fuck!

This time, I manage to get the gag into his open mouth. I quickly wrap it around the back of his head and tie it tight.

“
Yes!
” Natalie celebrates. “Good job, Alfie.”

I scurry away from the Nec; his cries now stifled by a cardigan. My ass connects with one of the stools, and I sit. Adrenaline still coursing through my body, I stare at the Nec as he twists and rocks his head violently, struggling with his homemade muzzle. I’ve bought us a little time. Not much, but some at least.

Natalie walks over to me and places her hand on my arm. “That was awesome, Alfie. Good effort.”

I wipe the beads of perspiration from my forehead and eyes. “Next time,” I say, letting out a long breath of relief, “I’ll leave the macho stuff to you.”

Natalie smiles and then sits on the stool next to me. “Yeah, in your dreams, Swansea boy.”

17

“You got any of that coke left?” Jonny asks me. But Jonny doesn’t ask for things. He
demands
. Only a fool or someone with a death wish would say no. And right now, after stuffing that cardigan into Ted’s mouth, the last thing I want is a fight.

Natalie is sitting next to Curtis on the floor, propped up against the wall. He’s sleeping, but she’s fully awake, glaring at me as I reach into my pocket for the coke. Jonny’s bloodshot eyes light up when he sees the half-full bag. “It’s
technically
Hoppy’s,” he says as he snatches it out of my hand, and then heads back over to the bar.

God knows why Natalie’s obvious disapproval of drugs bothers me. It shouldn’t, not when I’m sealed in a room with a zombie.

But it does.

There’s got to be something wrong with me.

* * *

It’s almost midnight. The only light in the room is coming from the moon and a faint glow from behind the bar. I can’t quite believe we’re still in here, still alive—and stuck with a tied up Nec. Can’t stand looking at him; it’s those eyes, they’re so disturbing, like a creepy doll staring back at you from a dusty shelf.

The phones and the Internet are still down. They’re definitely keeping us cut off from the outside world. I’ve sent countless text messages to Wendy, but they always fail. I don’t even know if she got the first one I sent. I hope she did. Even if I don’t get one back; at least she’ll know that I’m safe.

When the hell are they coming for us? Nothing’s changed since we got in here, apart from the growing number of Necs roaming around the stand and pitch. It’s only a matter of time before they come bursting through that door. Four people and a sofa can’t keep them out forever.

Curtis and Natalie are fast asleep on the floor, against the wall. Adriana is lying across the spectator seats. I think she’s sleeping; it’s hard to tell. Gaping at her degenerating husband must have got a little too difficult. I haven’t heard her cry for maybe an hour. That’s something at least. And I haven’t seen Jonny since he disappeared behind the bar. Well, I can see his feet poking out from the side. Maybe he’s crying for his brother. He needs to get it out of his system. Or maybe he’s just sleeping off all that booze. Not likely, not after he took my coke from me. He’ll probably be up for the next day or two. That’s nothing to him. Just a standard weekend.

The room seems empty without Ginge. I miss him so much already. It hasn’t fully sunk in yet that I’ll never see that face again, never laugh at one of his sick jokes. I want to get out of this place, but without him, without a place to live, a decent job, what’s out there for me anyway? It’s too late to get my life together now. College maybe? No, I’ve got to keep working, especially when I’ll be living on my own. And what the hell would I study? There’s no hope for a
dumbass
like me. Wendy says that everyone has a talent, no matter how stupid they think they are. I suppose she’s right, but what if your talent is arm-wrestling, or jerking off? Can’t see there being much of a demand for either skill. The only thing I’ve ever been really good at is running, but even that’s not something I could turn into a proper job.

Life sucks.

I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes. Maybe if I sleep long enough, this will all be over.

In the darkness, I feel someone sit next to me. Who the hell could this be?
Surely not Jonny
. I open my eyes to find Natalie beside me. A warm feeling of relief spreads over me when I see those pretty eyes. Through everything that’s happened, all the death, all the insanity, I’m glad she’s in here with me.

“Can’t sleep?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “
Nope
. Too afraid Ted might escape.”

“He seems pretty quiet over there. I think loud noise agitates them. As long as we keep our voices down, we should be okay.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“What about Curtis?” I glance over to see him snoring away. “He looks pretty cosy over there. Nothing seems to bother him.”

“Don’t let that fool you,” Natalie says. “He’s just as stressed as the rest of us. He just doesn’t show it. When our Grandfather died last Valentine’s Day, he slept like a baby—and no one was more upset than he was.”

“Yeah, I understand. We all deal with things differently.”

“Exactly. I mean, he almost got killed downstairs. If you hadn’t come, then…” She starts to tear up a little, trying to hide it with her hand.

“But I
did
come, Natalie. And he’s safe now. We all are. Your brother and I might never be best friends, but I’d never wish any harm on anyone. It’s Necs versus us—rival football clubs are meaningless.”

“Tell that to your friend,” she says, motioning with her head at the bar.

I follow her gesture. “What, Jonny? He’s all right; he’s just stressed out too. Like Curtis. The guy had to watch his brother get killed. It was bad enough watching Ginge die. God knows what’s going through his head.”

Natalie throws me a look to suggest that she’s not convinced. “Fair enough,” she says. “You know him better than I do. So how did you meet each other?”

“Through football and Ginge. We all used to drink in The Farmer’s Arms. They’re not so fussy on underage drinking there. I’ve been going there since I was fourteen.”

“Bloody hell, that’s young.”

“Well, you’ve got to start sometime. Best start early.”

Smiling, Natalie playfully nudges me in the ribs. “You’re an idiot.”

She glances over at Adriana. “So how long has she been sleeping?”

I follow her gaze and then shrug. “Don’t know. Not long. Not even sure if she
is
sleeping. But she’s been pretty quiet for the past few hours.”

“Poor woman. Do you think she’ll be okay?”

“Who knows? I’d be pretty messed up, though. Wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Natalie replies with a nod. “No one should have to see a loved one turn into one of those things. It’s not right.”

My eyes are beginning to burn with tiredness, the effects of the cocaine well and truly gone. “It’s probably best not to think about it. This will all be over soon enough. They can’t just leave us in here to die.”

Yawning loudly, Natalie puts her hands behind her head. “I hope not. Can’t stand another day stuck in this room.”

“You tired?”

“Shattered,” she replies, yawning for the second time.

“Yeah, me too. How about we try to get a few hours’ sleep?”

“What about the door?” Natalie asks, anxiously. “What if they try to get in?”

“We’ll hear them. And Jonny’s still awake. He’s not likely to get much sleep tonight. Trust me, we’ll be fine.”

Natalie nods again, and then squeezes in a little tighter to me. “You don’t mind, do you? It’s getting a little chilly in here.”

“No, it’s fine,” I reply, trying to hide my enthusiasm to have her body next to mine. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks.”

She turns to face me and rests her head on my chest, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow. Even being here, sat just a few feet away from a dead man, this still feels good. I drape my arm over the top of her back and shoulder, pulling her in even closer.

I shut my eyes.

“I’m glad I met you, Alfie,” Natalie says quietly, under her breath.

Opening my eyes, I look down at her. “Me too.”

“Goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” I repeat, kissing her on the top of the head—
instantly regretting it
. Does it make me come across a bit desperate, a little wet?

But then she opens her eyes, brings her head up to mine, and then kisses me on the lips.

In the moment, I forget where I am.

The kiss lasts just a few seconds before she puts her head back onto my chest. But that will do me. I’m not greedy.

Unable to conceal my great big grin on my face, all I can think about is how awesome it is to have her to watch over. If I couldn’t save my best friend, at least I can protect
her
.

Just as I start to close my eyes again, I notice Jonny staring at me, his eyes glazed over with poison. He shakes his head slowly and then disappears behind the bar.

I’m too tired to worry about him now.
Fuck him
. I’ll deal with it in the morning.

18

“Where are my trainers?” I ask Wendy as she scoops up Harry’s Lego, which is scattered across the living-room carpet.

She looks up and shushes me because Phil is asleep on the couch, sleeping off another afternoon of whiskey.

I mouth a
sorry
and then carry on looking for the trainers in the kitchen. Knowing Harry, he’s thrown them in the dishwasher.
Little shit
.

Rosy and Abbey,
the twins sisters from Hell
, are sitting at the table sharing the laptop. They’re probably on Facebook, cyber-bullying some poor girl, or pretending to be the same person to freak some boyfriend out. I gave up trying to figure out what goes through their heads years ago. As foster sisters go, they’re pretty vile, even for thirteen-year-olds. But at least they’re loyal—
to each other
. The rest of us aren’t so lucky.

“Get the fuck out, Alfie,” Abbey barks at me, her eyes still on the screen. “No one wants you here.”

“Fuck you too, Abs,” I retort, scanning the room for the trainers. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Rosy chuckles. “We will in four months. And then you’ll be out on your black ass.”

Before I even get the chance to retaliate, Wendy comes storming into the kitchen, the whites of her eyes glowing with rage. “If I
ever
hear you speak to your brother like that again, then I
swear to God
I’ll ram my boot so far up
both
your asses, you’ll be tasting leather for a month.” She slams the laptop shut and leans over it, glaring at the two girls. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Sorry, Wend,” Rosy says, her voice trembling.

“Yeah, sorry, Wend,” Abbey says, too frightened even to look at her. I don’t blame her. Wendy can be a real hard ass when she wants to be.
You’ve gotta love that fire
. Shame that it doesn’t extend to Phil.

“It’s not
me
you should be apologising to,” Wendy says. “It’s your brother.”

“He’s not our brother,” Rosy points out. “Do we
look
related?”

“He is while he’s living under
my
roof,” Wendy replies, firmly. “We’re all family here. No matter what. No exceptions. You got that?”

The twins turn to me, struggling to make eye contact. It looks painful but
serves the bitches right
. “Sorry, Alf,” the twins say at the same time. “Won’t happen again.”

It definitely will.

“Don’t worry about it,” I reply, trying to hide the pleasure engraved across my face. “I’ll be out of your hair in four months, anyway.”

Wendy shakes her head. “What? Why would you say that?”

“Because I’ll be eighteen. I’ll be too old to be your foster kid. But it’s okay, though. I can take care of myself.”

Wendy places her hand on my shoulder and smiles. “Alfie, I would never kick you out onto the street. I’m your mother. Just because you won’t
officially
be my foster son, don’t think for one second that I’ll stop being there for you.”

“Really?”

Wendy puts her hands on both of my cheeks and forces a kiss on my lips. “I love you to bits, Alf. But you need your head read if you think that I’d ever abandon one of my children. This is your home. For as long as you need it. Okay?”

Beaming, I take hold of Wendy’s hand. She really is the best. All the mother anyone could ever wish for. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” I ask. “Ginge said I could crash over at his place—you know, until I get myself sorted.”

Wendy snorts. “Over my dead body.”

The weight of leaving, with no money, and no flat, suddenly begins to deflate. I can put up with these maniacs as long as I have Wendy. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

She starts to walk towards the hallway, but then stops at the doorway. “And anyway, how can you stay at Ginge’s house?” she turns to me. “He’s dead.”

“What?” I ask, unsure if I heard right.

“Ginge is dead,” she repeats, a slow smirk forming on her lips. “Remember? You let all those dead people eat your best friend alive. They gutted him like a pig. Surely you haven’t forgotten already?”

“Shut the fuck up, Wendy!”

“Watch your language, boy,” Wendy replies, her eyes now grey, her olive skin fading, draining with every step towards me. “It’s not
my
fault you couldn’t save the only
real
friend you’ve ever had.”

“
Shut up!
” I scream, backing away from her as she creeps towards me, her face now light green, the skin around her eyes and mouth cracking, her teeth yellowing.