Chloe Zombie Apocalypse series (Book 2): The Journey (8 page)

“
A
re you ready
?”

“Ready? For—”

“For moving on.”

“But I thought—”

“Keep your voice down, fucking idiot.”

Jackson stood outside the cabin. It’d gotten pretty cramped in there in the night, so he’d opted to sleep in the glowing embers of the fire. Arnold and Colin were awake now, though. Cassandra, Dean, Anisha and Hassan, they were snoring away inside. Chloë and Pete had found some other place nearby. Fucking treehouse or something.

Wise. Because if she’d slept in the cabin, someone might’ve just killed her in her sleep.

Maybe it would’ve worked out better that way.

Colin rubbed the back of his sweaty head. “So what’s the plan?”

“Before we talk about the ‘plan’, I think it’s about time we spoke about your fucking plan.”

Colin frowned. “My plan? What—”

“That stunt you pulled. Back in the woods. Getting your gun out and shooting the zombies chasing Chloë. The fuck was that all about?”

Colin lowered his head. Jackson could only just see him in the moonlight, but enough to work out he was avoiding eye contact. “I—I shot ‘em cause I thought they were coming for me.”

“You thought they were coming for you?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes… Oh look, I just got fucking scared, okay? I got fucking scared.”

Jackson tutted. Shook his head. “What about you, Arnold? Are you gonna get fucking scared?”

Arnold didn’t say a word. His hard face and droopy eyes just focused on Jackson. He shook his head.

“Good,” Jackson said. “Should fucking think not.”

He turned away from the log cabin. Walked past the smouldering embers where the fire had burned. His body tingled all over. His palms were covered in sweat. He couldn’t stop wetting his lips.

Because this was the moment.

The moment they made their move.

The moment they broke away.

“If we leave now, it’ll be understandable,” Jackson said. “To Chloë and the others, it’ll just look like we’ve had enough. Got sick of her leadership.”

“But she’ll know.”

“Know what?”

Colin looked at the ground. “Where—where we’re going.”

Jackson stared at Colin for a moment.

Then, he smiled.

“Yes. Yes she will.”

He turned around and carried on towards the darkened road ahead.

“What about the others?” Colin called.

Jackson tutted. Fucking Colin and his fucking questions. “What others?”

“You know. The… the others. Who’re in. With us.”

Jackson thought about the others. The ones who’d agreed to join his group when a chance to break free of Chloë’s grasp finally arrived. “They all have their roles. Everyone has their roles. And they’ll find us. Eventually, they’ll find us. They’ll know where to go.”

Jackson pulled a Glock 17 out of his pocket. Armed forces weapon. Weren’t hard to come by in the early days of the fall. His trusty weapon. Plenty of ammo for it, too. Did that naive little bitch really think he’d just lose his weapon? Did she really think some mystery fucking bandits had charged through Hopeforth, destroyed it?

If she did, then she really had lost her grip.

And it was just as well he was changing the order around here while he had the chance.

“What about her?” Colin asked.

Jackson stopped. Rolled his eyes. Turned around. “Jesus Christ. What about who?”

Colin’s face twitched. “Chloë.”

“What about Chloë?”

“She’s… she’s not just gonna give up. I don’t like the girl. Gives me the creeps. But she’s not just gonna let this go. You’ve seen how she is.”

Jackson couldn’t help but smile. He
had
seen how Chloë was. He’d watched her break into the Church of Youth stronghold. He’d watched her tear that group apart from within. He’d watched her slice throats. Unlock the cell doors. Let him out.

And he respected her for that. He respected her strength. Respected her resolve. But a lone massacre didn’t make a girl a leader. No, they’d lost too many people. Lost too many people by turning others away. By not recruiting. By not building an army. A force. Something to be respected.

And in some cases, to be feared.

She’d made a mistake. Her dad had allowed that mistake to grow into something else entirely. Something deadly.

And Jackson wasn’t going to watch any more people die.

He wasn’t going to go soft any longer.

“Like I said. Yes. She’ll know exactly where we’re going. And we can use that to our favour.”

“How?” Colin asked.

Jackson turned away from Colin. Looked at the dark sky ahead. Looked at the fields. At the roads. At the long route to Pwllheli still to make.

“You’ll see.”

He reached into his pocket. Pulled out Chloë’s knife. It still had some zombie blood on the blade.

“There are more effective ways to get rid of a person than murder.”

He rubbed his finger along the blunt edge of the knife.

“And that’s exactly what we’ve got planned.”

He took in a deep breath.

Smiled.

He was going to do this.

He was going to make the group stronger.

And he was going to lead the group to Pwllheli.

His
group.

He threw Chloë’s knife into the soil.

“Come on,” he said.

Colin and Arnold exchanged a glance.

And then, the three of them disappeared into the soundless night.

C
hloë looked
down at her knife poking out of the ground.

“Just gone,” Dean said, scratching his bald head. “Woke up this morning. Took a look around. Gone. Jackson, Colin, Arnold, all three of ‘em.”

“They can’t just have…
gone
,” Anisha said. “There has to be a reason. Why they’d leave.”

The awkward silence that followed gave Chloë—and everyone—the answer to Anisha’s statement. There was a reason. They’d left because of Chloë. They’d disappeared because they didn’t trust Chloë anymore.

But there was something wrong about this.

Something… off.

Chloë pulled her knife out of the ground. She looked ahead at the fields in the distance. Looked at the grey clouds overhead, the rain splattering down. It reminded her of times away with her family. The camping trips they’d taken. They always ended up rainy, especially the holidays they took in England. Elizabeth used to moan about the rain. How it messed up her hair. But Chloë didn’t mind it. She didn’t mind it because rain meant the other kids weren’t out to play around. She preferred life when she was on her own.

“So what do we do?” Hassan asked.

“What
can
we do?” Dad said.

“Well, I suggest we go take a look for them, for starters.”

“Where? In the woods? In those fields?”

Hassan tutted. A speck of sweat rolled down his face. “You really do just leave people behind, don’t you? You really don’t give a shit as long as you and your kid get to Pwll—fucking—heli all in one piece.”

“In one piece?” Dad said. He walked over to Chloë. Pointed at her arm. Then at the scars on her face. “You think my daughter is in one piece? You… you think her mind is in one piece after some of the things she’s seen? Some of the things she’s been through? Hmm?”

Hassan and Anisha looked at the ground. Dean and Cassandra stood behind them, arms folded. Alice was busy scanning the outside of the woods for some kind of fruit.

“No,” Dad said. “No. She isn’t in one piece. None of us are in one piece. But we’re here. We’re here and we’re conscious.”

“Barely,” Hassan mumbled.

Chloë cleared her throat. Felt the cool rain crashing against her. A sour taste built in her mouth. A taste that always came when she hadn’t got much sleep. She couldn’t remember dozing off for a moment last night. She was worried about what would happen. What she’d dream about.

Sometimes, as hard as it was to believe, the dreams were worse than reality.

Dad walked towards Hassan and Anisha. He lifted a hand. Rested it on Hassan’s shoulder. “I understand you’re tired. I understand you’re scared. But now’s not the time to split into—”

“We’ve already fucking split,” Hassan said. He batted Dad’s hand away. “Jackson was just about the only guy left capable of leading us to Pwllheli. Now he’s gone. So what next?”

There was a silence amongst the group. A slow realisation of Hassan’s words. Chloë didn’t like what Hassan was saying. Because Jackson wasn’t the only person capable of leading them to Pwllheli. She could do it. She could lead these people to somewhere safe. She could keep them out of trouble—away from the monsters, away from the other bad people. She could do it. She really could.

But to do it, she needed them to believe in her.

She wasn’t sure they did anymore.

“We’ve still got each other,” Dad said.

Hassan laughed. He laughed, turned to Anisha and his laughing got louder. “Each other. Each other! There were thirty-three of us. Now there’s seven. And you still expect us to survive just doing what we’ve been doing all along, right? You really think you and your daughter can lead us to—”

“We won’t get to Pwllheli by standing around arguing.”

The words felt unfamiliar as they left Chloë’s lips. Unnatural, even. But the moment she’d spoken them, she knew there was no going back on them.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” Hassan said, walking towards her. “But I stopped believing in your crap when—”

“People have died. And more people will die. There’s nothing we can do about that. But we’re here. We’re here and we have a chance. A chance to get to Pwllheli. Before the bandits do. Before anyone…”

A thought invaded her mind.

Dominated her senses.

She looked down at the knife in her hand. Her knife. The one that Jackson had.

The one he’d held when he’d watched monster Dan get within inches of killing her.

He’d tried to get her to go down to that group. The one by the motorway bridge.

He’d been the one to reveal the news about the bandits. About the attack on Hopeforth. About the transmission.

And Dad. Dad said there was something wrong with him. That he sensed something dishonest about Jackson.

“It… It was him,” Chloë said.

Hassan frowned. He looked at Anisha. “It was what?”

“The gun. The gun Colin had. He… It was them. All along it was them.”

She turned around. Started walking across the grass. Then running. Running down the hill. Running away from the group.

“What was them?” Hassan shouted, the rest of the group following. “The hell are you on about?”

“Jackson,” Chloë shouted. Her mind spun, her heart raced. “He—he must’ve heard. He must’ve heard the transmission somehow. And—and he set this up. He set this up to get me out of the way. To split the group. To—”

“Chlo, you aren’t making sense,” Alice said.

“But it does make sense. The—the bandits. There were no bandits. It was just him. Just him and Arnold and Colin.”

Hassan shook his head. “Bullshit. Bull. Shit.”

“You know he didn’t like me. Didn’t like my dad.”

“Well, there’s motive for that, kid.”

Chloë stopped. She looked back at the knife. Flashbacks to when she’d got to her feet after being attacked by Dan. Something had hit her. Something hit her from behind. Knocked her back to the ground.

The more she thought about it, the more she wondered.

Wondered if she’d been pushed.

“He tried to kill me,” Chloë said.

Chloë waited for a response. Waited for Dad to tell her she was being rash. For Alice to tell her to stop being stupid. She waited for Hassan to swear. For Anisha to tut. For Dean or Cassandra to say something—anything.

But they didn’t.

Chloë looked back at them. “It was him. Jackson. He did this. To make a break for Pwllheli. He did this.”

She saw the group’s eyes staring at her blankly.

A tightness built in her chest.

“I’m telling you, it was him!”

And then Chloë realised something.

The group weren’t staring blankly at her.

They were staring at something behind her.

“What—”

She turned around.

Saw the monsters wandering towards her group from way in the distance.

But they didn’t worry her.

What worried her stood right opposite her.

The worst monster of all.

A man.

And he was holding a gun.

Pointing it right at Chloë.

“
J
ust give
us whatever you’ve got and we can get this sorted nice and quick.”

Chloë looked the man in the eye. He was long-haired. Dishevelled. Covered in a brown film that gave away just how little he showered and washed these days. A brown film that all of them found themselves covered in. The falling specks of rain might just do him a favour.

Chloë could smell his sweat from here. She could see his hand holding the gun, shakily. A bag in the other hand. A green rucksack. It didn’t look very full.

“We don’t have a thing,” Alice said. “So you might want to turn away and—”

“Bullshit,” the man said. Flecks of spit rolled down his chin. His eyes were red, like an animal that’d escaped its cage. “I saw you lot. Saw you last night. Saw the guns.”

“The guns?” Dad asked.

Chloë’s chest tightened. “You saw someone in our group with guns?”

The man’s eyes darted from Chloë to the rest of the group. Behind him, up the hill, the oncoming crowd of monsters approached. There were lots of them. Still far away, but enough of them to want to run away from. Fast. “Don’t mess about with me. I know what you’ve got. I seen what you’ve got.”

“Jackson,” Chloë muttered.

She turned. Looked at the rest of her group. They stared at her with wide eyes.

“Jackson. Colin. Arnold. I told you. I told you we couldn’t trust them.”

“And yet you trust this guy?” Dean asked.

Chloë looked back at the man. Looked at his wavering gun. A part of her wanted to lift her knife. To throw it at him as hard as she could. Because he was a person. He was a man. And men were threats.

Much bigger threats than the monsters.

“Just—just hand over your weapons,” he said. His gun shook. “Like I said. Doesn’t have to be any trouble here.”

“The weapons you saw. The people with the weapons. They aren’t with us anymore. They—”

“I know what I saw. I know
who
I saw. Now hand over your stuff.”

Chloë was about to respond when she heard branches snapping in the trees.

The man looked around. Kept his gun focused on Chloë.

Three monsters staggered out from the trees.

Torn clothes dangling from their emaciated bodies.

Blood dribbling down from their faces.

Meat wedged between their teeth.

The group staggered back. The man turned around. Raised his gun. “Don’t move a muscle!”

Chloë raised her hands. “We’re not going anywhere. But we’re being honest. We have a tiny bit of food. A tiny bit of water. But we don’t have any weapons.”

The man shook his head. Stepped closer towards the group as the monsters approached him. “Fuck. Fuck. Well we’ll have to see about that, won’t we? Have to see about that when these biters here step up to you.”

Chloë saw the look in the man’s eyes. The glow. And she knew right then she definitely wouldn’t be able to trust him, no matter what.

She watched him walk towards the group. Looked at him, gun pointed at them. Ahead, the monsters continued their approach. Snapping teeth echoed through the silence. Glazed eyes focused on their next meal—a buffet of people.

The man grabbed Chloë’s hand.

“Get your fucking hands off my daughter—”

“Hey!” he shouted. He pointed the gun to Chloë’s head. Stared back at Dad with manic, bloodshot eyes. “You’ll use your weapons, won’t you? You’ll use your weapons or your daughter will die. Simple as that.”

“Fucking psychopath!”

“We don’t have any weapons,” Chloë said. The monsters were just a matter of metres away now. Their rotting smell drifted through the breeze. Behind them, way into the distance, the rest of the monsters approached. “All I… All I have is a knife.”

“So you
do
have a weapon?”

“Our guns are gone. They took them.”

“Who took them?”

“The people! The people you saw. The people you…”

One of the monsters toppled over. Stretched its bony fingers out. Stuck them into the dirt and dragged itself towards Chloë.

Chloë felt a lump swelling in her throat. The man’s gun stayed pressed to her head. “You can kill us. But it won’t get you anywhere. Because we’ve no weapons. Nothing but the knife.”

The monsters were just three metres away now.

The man’s gun began to shake.

“You don’t have to do this,” Chloë said.

“I do have to do this.” The man’s eyes were glassy. His cheeks were puffy. His mouth started to quiver.

Chloë stared into the dead eyes of the oncoming monsters. “You… you don’t have to kill us. You can join us. You can be one of us.”

The man smirked. Adjusted his grip on the gun. “Like you’re ever gonna just let me in.”

“That’s… that’s what we do. To be strong. We let people in. We… we know a place. A safe place.”

The man laughed again. The groaning of the monsters drowned out everything. Dad made another run for Chloë, but the man tightened his grip on the trigger. Everybody else just watched, backed away slowly. “A safe place. There are no safe places.”

Chloë narrowed her eyelids as the monsters got within a few steps away. “There can be. If you just trust us. Please. Trust us.”

She felt the monster’s hand grab her ankle.

“Chloë!” Dad cried.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Waited for the burning pain.

And then she heard the blast.

She opened her eyes. Her head spun and her ears rang.

The monster that’d grabbed her ankle had a bullet in its skull.

Two more blasts.

One into the head of the first one.

Another into the next.

The monsters fell to the ground.

Silence filled the group.

The man looked on at the monsters he’d put down. He wiped the sweat from his upper lip. “So maybe you don’t have weapons. No group’d just allow a little kid to die. So this safe place. Where’s—”

Chloë knocked the gun from the man’s hand.

Stabbed him in his neck.

She heard the gasps behind her. Heard the swearing. The footsteps.

But she just held on to the knife.

Kept it pressed into the man’s neck.

Watched his eyes bulge.

Listened to him gurgle.

Twenty seconds later, he fell to the ground, and he went still.

Chloë wiped the knife on the man’s dirty white shirt. She lifted his gun. Looked out at the oncoming crowd of monsters.

“What the fuck?”

Chloë turned. Saw the rest of the group staring at her. Saw horror in their widened eyes, their loose jaws.

“Well we couldn’t trust him,” Chloë said. “Not after he turned a gun on us. Could we?”

She looked at her dad. Saw the dazed look on his face. He looked at Chloë. And then at the man’s body. And then back at Chloë again.

“Come on,” Chloë said. She looked down at the oncoming horde of monsters. “We’d better find another route.”