Dead Days: Season 8 Part 32

He had a choice, though. Either he took them on or he tried to find another way. He didn't have much time on his side. That said, Mattius had found his way out of here, so there had to be another way.

He tried all the doors, being sure to have his knife raised in case any of Mattius' people were left. Although most of them would be more interested in fighting the dead now, Riley had no doubt that a few loyalists would still be staying true to Mattius' cause.

If there were any still standing, that was.

He kept on moving along, turning more of the handles.

When he got to the last door on the right, the handle turned.

He felt elation, just for a split second. Although it was a long way down, at least it was a potential escape route. A tricky one. A frigging nigh-on impossible one at that. But h.e.l.l; he'd dangled from a drainpipe before and lived to see today. Maybe he'd have been better off if he'd fallen from that pipe on day one after all.

His elation was soon interrupted when he saw the first figure wander up onto the corridor.

The second figure followed soon after. The third and the fourth and the-f.u.c.k, a lot of them, uncountable even. He heard their heavy footsteps thump against the floor, and immediately they stumbled in his direction, like hunters honing in on their prey.

Riley figured he didn't have many options anymore.

He ran into the room and slammed the door shut. He rushed over to the sofa in the middle of the room and tried to drag it over, but it was too heavy. Instead, he settled for a coffee table.

The door broke under the weight of the creatures before he even got there.

They flooded into the room now. And ultimately, it left him with no choice.

He knew what he had to do.

It wasn't going to be easy, but he had to do it.

He ran over to the window. It was a balcony kind bay window, looking out over the surrounding woods. Riley could see small pockets of emptiness within the creatures outside now. They'd found their targets; now they were splitting up, breaking from the collective hive mind.

He peeked over the edge of the balcony and his stomach turned. He'd never exactly been scared of heights, but under the circ.u.mstances, anyone would be.

The footsteps and groans of the creatures got closer.

He had a decision to make.

He climbed over the side of the balcony. He saw more balconies beneath him. If he could drop down and grab onto the next couple, he'd be able to drop quite comfortably down onto the ground.

Gripping wasn't easy, though, considering he was two fingers down on his left hand. Honestly, though, the pain wasn't what it had been. The adrenaline was just too strong.

He edged further down. He knew that one slip would spell the end for him. But at the same time, one bite would do the trick, too.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and thought of Jordanna, Chloe, and Anna, too. He thought of why he was doing all this. What it was all for.

"I'm coming for you, Kesha," he muttered.

The creatures pushed through the bay window and raced onto the balcony, their teeth snapping just inches from Riley's fingers.

"I'm coming," Riley said.

He took a few deep breaths.

Closed his eyes.

Then he loosened his grip and he dropped.

Chapter Six.

It's a good job Ricky's reactions were fast, or he'd have a bullet in his face right about now.

He fell back as the blast rang through his ears. He could hear movement down in the hatch-the one the woman had brought him to and told him to open. She'd set him up. For some reason-whatever sick reason people used these days-she'd brought him here, and she'd set him up.

He looked at her, still disoriented, as more movement sounded outside.

He didn't think she looked like she expected that gunshot.

She looked shocked.

"s.h.i.t," she muttered.

"s.h.i.t indeed," the man in the hatch called up. Ricky could see him now. He had long hair to his shoulders and a thick greasy beard. In his hand, a small pistol, albeit one that'd packed quite the punch. "Now you get the h.e.l.l away from my home or we're gonna have a problem on our hands."

Ricky was still on his backside. He was struggling to keep up with everything. So the woman hadn't set him up after all? This really was just some lone straggler? He was actually expected to believe that?

"We're not going anywhere," the woman said. Her hood was pulled right up now, right over her face. "Because this is our place. Not yours."

The man narrowed his eyes. The dark circles underneath them bulged out, all purple and veiny. "In case you hadn't noticed, I've got a gun."

"And in case you didn't notice, we've got the upper ground. You can take your chances. Maybe you'll take one of us down, if you're lucky. But we will get to you if you don't drop your weapon. And we will kill you. Is that what you really want?"

The man looked from Ricky to the woman and back again. He seemed to be weighing both of them up, trying to figure out who the softer touch was. And s.h.i.t. Ricky might've thought of himself as tough, but this woman was something else entirely. She had an edge to her. A real edge that Ricky was convinced he didn't want to cross anytime soon.

"You drop your gun," the woman said, lifting her axe and walking closer towards the man. "You drop it, and you step out."

"Can't we figure somethin' out here?"

"Not with a gun in your hand we can't."

He looked back at Ricky, like he was waiting for Ricky to give him some kind of leeway.

"s.h.i.t," he said. "s.h.i.t. I just-I just wanted a place to sleep, that's all." Ricky saw then that his teeth were black and worn down. "Been out here so long. Didn't mean any of you any harm. I just wanted a place to sleep."

"Drop your gun," the woman said. She wasn't buying any of his sob story; that much was clear. "That's the only way we can make any progress here."

"f.u.c.k you," the man said.

Then he dropped his gun down into the hatch. Ricky heard it hit the floor.

"Good," the woman said, walking over to the man.

The man started to climb out of the hatch, his hands above his head. His hands had turned a strange shade of orange, the skin hard and worn down. "Please. I don't have nothing on me."

"I'll see about that for myself," the woman said.

She searched him all over. She pulled a few things from him. His jacket. His shoes. Even his socks and underwear. She left him standing there, freezing, sobbing. And Ricky couldn't help sympathising with the man.

"This is what you're going to do next," the woman said, pressing the axe against the side of the man's neck. "You're going to turn around, and you're going to walk away. Far away."

"With no clothes? I'll freeze."

"The dead have plenty of clothes on their skin. You'll find some more."

Ricky could hear the man's teeth chattering from here. He could see the tears on his face. "You can't do this. You can't just leave me."

"You should've thought about that before you tried to rob us."

"I didn't know!"

The woman sighed. Then she pulled down her axe and patted the man on his bare shoulder. "It's a tough world. You'll live. Maybe."

"Wait," Ricky said.

He hadn't intended to speak. He hadn't planned anything to say. But he couldn't stand here and watch this man suffer like this. After all, he was right. He'd just been trying to find a place to stay.

He walked over to the man and handed him his coat. He felt cold without it, sure, but no way near as cold as this man would.

Ricky half-smiled at him. "Take this. But do what she says. Go. There's a ma.s.s of zombies over to the east that you really don't want to b.u.mp into anytime soon."

The man's tear-filled eyes glistened. His teeth were still chattering, but he sounded grateful. So grateful. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you so much. So much."

He took Ricky's hand, and Ricky held on.

Then the man's face shifted.

In the other hand, Ricky caught a glance of a knife.

The man pulled it back and went to ram it into Ricky's stomach.

But he didn't get that far.

The woman's axe had already split his head in two.

He looked into that man's fading eyes, and for a moment, he swore he saw that grat.i.tude again. That look like he'd just been doing what he had to do. Taking his chances to survive.

Then the man's head fell apart like an Easter egg that'd rolled down a hill, and he fell to the ground.

The woman walked up to Ricky then. She pressed the bloodied axe to his chest.

"That's why you don't f.u.c.king let sentimentality slip in. Ever."

She turned around and headed for the hatch.

"So what?" Ricky said, adrenaline coursing through his system. "I was supposed to just let him die?"

"He tried to kill you."

"We didn't know he was going to do that."

"Everyone does that. It's what people do now. They take their chances. Survival depends on it."

There was a pause, then. A long, drawn-out silence, where Ricky wondered if the woman was having second thoughts about spending time with him after all.

Then she broke the silence: "Are you coming down here or what?"

Ricky swallowed a lump in his throat. Part of him wanted to say no. But what other option did he have?

He nodded and made his way towards the hatch.

He spent a short while in the hatch, but it wasn't long before the woman-whose name he still didn't know-shot off again because she'd buried some extra supplies a couple of miles away.

And in that short while, Ricky didn't see Mattius watching just metres away, Kesha in his arms.

Chapter Seven.

Riley half-expected to break his legs when he dropped from the edge of the balcony.

He felt pain when he landed, for sure. He bit his tongue too, which gave him that not-so-pleasant taste of blood that just reminded him of how precarious the world he was living in really was.

He didn't have time to stand around and mope, though. He knew that, while there was a gap where he stood right now, it wouldn't be there for long. Not when the creatures filled in that s.p.a.ce and tore him up in the process.

He had to get out of this place. He had to track down Mattius, wherever he had gone to.

Then he had to get Kesha back.