Chloe Zombie Apocalypse series (Book 3): Chloe (A New World) (8 page)

C
hloë stared
up at the tree and held her breath.

The sun was midway up in the sky now, meaning it was probably late morning. The birdsong was the only noise she could hear, a pigeon calling somewhere far away. The weather was pretty warm again, just like it had been in the last days on Bardsey Island. But Chloë couldn’t stop shivering.

Shivering, because she knew what she had to do.

She looked to her left. Saw Kesha lying on the ground. She felt bad every time her little face looked back at her. Because Kesha didn’t understand. All she’d think is that everything was going to work out just fine. That’s all babies ever thought, right?

Chloë wanted to believe that was true. She wanted to believe that everything really was going to work out fine.

But she wasn’t sure how seriously she could take it.

She licked her dry lips. The smell of poo still lingered from the nappy she’d changed of Kesha’s on the walk down here. She’d never changed a nappy before. Found it disgusting. One of the reasons she never liked the idea of babysitting in the first place. Even picking up dog poo was bad enough when she used to go on walks with Shania, her cousin, but nappy changing was much harder because it was real human gunk.

It was okay though. She’d made sure she’d kept her eyes shut so she didn’t have to look at it.

She stared up the tree. She could see from the way the branches stuck out on the way up that it was perfect. Well, not perfect. But good enough to get up there. Good enough to do what she had to do.

Not what she wanted to do. Not what she wanted to do at all.

But the only thing she could do.

She picked up Kesha. Scooped her up in her left arm.

And then she tucked her into the front of her trousers. Tightened the band around her waist so that the kid was just balancing in there, like a little baby kangaroo in its mother’s pouch.

Kesha giggled a bit. Made noises that were cute.

And Chloë wanted to play along. She wanted to laugh and giggle along with her.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t let herself.

So she started climbing the tree.

She’d grown used to climbing trees one handed, using her legs and feet for a lot of the support, back at Bardsey Island. Hadn’t been an easy thing to learn. Nothing was easy to learn with your left hand. Didn’t help that she was never left handed in the first place. But she’d been getting there. She’d been learning. She’d been getting used to it.

Turned out climbing with an extra bit of weight tucked in made it even more difficult, like learning all over again.

She climbed a little higher. Scooped her feet around another branch. The hardest bits were always moving one hand between one branch and another. You didn’t have anything but your legs to support. One slip, and it was over.

But Chloë was good at what she did.

She didn’t slip.

Well. She hadn’t yet.

She swung onto the next branch. She felt relief tickling in the middle of her chest every time she made it.

She had to keep on moving. Had to keep on climbing up. She knew which branch she had to get to. Knew exactly which branch. She just had to—

She heard a snap.

Her body froze. She couldn’t figure out where the snap came from.

Not until she felt the branch she was clinging to slipping away.

She saw it all in a blink of an eye. Falling to the ground below. Landing splat on top of Kesha. Turning her into mush on the forest floor which the monsters, the things, all gathered around for a feast.

But no.

She couldn’t let that happen.

She reached out. Swung her hand around for anything. Anything to grip onto. Anything to ease her fall.

Her fingers slipped from another branch…

Then fell away.

She felt herself falling. Felt herself falling backwards like she was on a rollercoaster, only this one never stopped dropping.

She kept on trying to grab on to something.

Kept on trying, because it’s what she had to do. It’s what she had to do to survive. For Kesha to survive.

She was on the verge of giving up when her fingers tightened around another branch.

She clung on. Clung on with everything she had. In the pouch she’d made in her trousers, Kesha started to cry again.

Chloë gritted her teeth together. Shifted her weight onto that branch. “Not now,” she said. “Not now. Please.”

Kesha didn’t stop crying. She didn’t stop crying as Chloë clambered up the tree. As she made her way—much more carefully this time—to that branch. When she reached it, she lifted Kesha out of the pouch she’d made in her trousers.

She looked at Kesha. Looked at Kesha as she rested there on the wide branch. It wasn’t safe. Kesha could crawl off. Fall down to the forest floor below at any time.

Chloë had to make Kesha safer.

She pulled the band from her trouser waistline. Had to rip away some of the material with her teeth.

And then she wrapped it around Kesha’s waist.

Tied Kesha to the branch.

She shuffled back. Seeing Kesha there, tied down to the tree, she felt bad. So bad that hot tears built up in her eyes.

Kesha looked back at her. Scrunched her hands together. Looked around at all the sights. She didn’t know what was happening. She didn’t understand.

Poor baby didn’t understand.

“You’ll—you’ll be safer here. Safer than with me. I promise.”

Kesha looked up at Chloë again. Reached out her hands. And Chloë saw that cuteness. Saw that innocence.

She wiped her eyes. “I’ll be back for you. When I find someone. When I find somewhere safe to take you. I promise I’ll be back for you.”

She knew Kesha couldn’t understand her.

And as Chloë climbed back down the tree, down to the ground below, she was pleased that Kesha wasn’t able to understand her.

If she were old enough to understand, she’d be clever enough to understand the shakiness in Chloë’s voice, the tears in Chloë’s eyes.

If she were old enough to understand, she’d know that Chloë was leaving.

For good.

A
s Chloë walked away
from the tree where she’d left Kesha, she fast started to realise the error of her decision.

The sun above had been bathed in clouds. Rain started to fall again. Around her, nothing but trees. Endless trees lining the side of a hill that she seemed to be walking through. She didn’t know where she was. Didn’t know where she was going. All she knew was she was somewhere in Wales because that’s where Bardsey Island was just off the coast of.

Wales. England. Didn’t matter where she was.

All that mattered?

She was alone.

She felt the pain splitting through the bottom of her right foot after walking barefoot on it for so long. She knew she should take the other shoe off. Ditch it, just like she used to do when she walked alone through these woods.

But she knew that by ditching that shoe, she was giving up on the island. She was giving up on the life she’d made at Bardsey Island.

She was giving up on her dad.

She found herself drifting to the taste of water on her lips as she walked on endlessly. She still had the knife on her, but she kept it tucked into her trousers, which she had to keep pulling up after tying Kesha to that tree with the band. Had she made the wrong decision? Should she have left Kesha behind? She’d left her there because she wanted her to be safe. She knew that eventually, someone else had to come through these woods. Someone had to save her.

But what if they didn’t?

What then?

She stopped. Looked ahead at the trees. More trees. More endless trees. She knew what these woods were like. She knew the path of trees would go on and on, stretch on for what seemed like forever.

And she knew the truth.

It could be days before anyone found Kesha.

Weeks.

Months.

Years.

And what then?

How would she ever look herself in the mirror again then?

Chloë turned around. Looked back. Looked at the hilly path she’d climbed up. She’d been walking for a couple of hours. But not quickly. If she ran back to Kesha, she could be with her again in just over an hour, she thought.

She didn’t think she had the energy inside her to run back.

Besides, why did she want to run back?

She thought about that. Thought about why she wanted to be back with Kesha after leaving her not long ago. And she knew why it was. She knew exactly why it was now.

She didn’t care about Kesha. The only person she cared about was Dad.

But she wanted someone by her side.

And she wanted to look after Kesha.

She wanted to make sure she was okay because for some reason, the people at Bardsey Island wanted her. The bad people at Bardsey Island.

For some reason, they thought Kesha was different to everyone else.

Chloë looked up the hill. She could keep on going. Keep on walking away. Turn her back on all of this.

But Kesha’s cute little eyes stuck in Chloë’s mind.

That innocent expression on her face. The way she didn’t understand what was going on, not really.

Chloë couldn’t turn her back on Kesha. She couldn’t turn her back on that child. Not like this.

She ran back down the hill. Splashed through the mud, which had yet to dry in spite of the warmer air. She didn’t feel capable of running much further, but she knew she had to. She’d made a mistake. She’d messed up leaving Kesha behind. She’d made the wrong call.

She ran on and on. Ran in the marks where her footsteps had made in the mud. She got lost a couple of times. Lost sense of direction, of where she was. But she always found her way again. Always found those footsteps.

She was going back for Kesha. She was going back because she’d made the wrong move. She was going back because she had to go back.

Because Margery wanted Chloë to take Kesha away from the bad people.

Because Dad wanted Chloë to take Kesha away from the bad people.

She lost her footing. When she rebalanced, she realised she was in the footstep marks again.

Only…

Wait. These footsteps were bigger than hers. Wider.

She looked up ahead.

A monster clambered out from behind a tree. A woman with long, greasy black hair. The bottom half of her face had been chewed away completely.

Chloë slid back. Grabbed her knife. Lifted it, swung it at the monster’s head.

The monster shifted. Shifted out of the way, just in time. Like it knew Chloë’s attack was coming. Like it was expecting it.

And then it pressed its rotting fingers into Chloë’s stomach and pushed her down into the mud.

The knife went flying to Chloe’s left. The monster pinned Chloë down. Moved its snapping teeth closer to her bare belly, closer to her warm guts…

Chloë did the only thing she could.

She stuck her thumb and index finger into the monster’s eyes.

Stuck them deep in with all the strength she had.

Stuck them in until she felt them burst, not strong enough after rotting away.

And then she kept on pressing.

Pressing right through into the monster’s brains.

She felt the monster twitch a few times. Felt something wriggle inside her skull.

And then the monster went still.

Blood, eye gunk, all of it dribbled down Chloë’s arm.

But she’d taken down the monster. She was okay.

She pushed the monster aside. Rushed over to her knife. Grabbed it.

When she turned back around, she swore she saw something sneak out of the monster’s skull.

Disappear into the grass.

She stood there for a few seconds. Stood there trying to work out whether she’d really seen something move, or whether her eyes were just playing tricks on her.

And then she remembered what she was doing.

She was trying to save Kesha. She was going back for her. Making up for her mistake.

So she disregarded the movement and ran back in the direction she’d been heading before meeting the monster.

It didn’t take her long to find her footsteps again. And the further she ran, the more aware of her surroundings she got. She looked up at the tops of trees. Looked around, listened for a crying sound.

But she didn’t hear any.

All she heard was footsteps in the woods.

Footsteps closing in on her.

Movement in the shadows.

She tried to keep her focus off her surroundings. If there were monsters, then she really needed to get to Kesha. She could climb up that tree. Get her down. Or wait up there if she had to.

Whatever the case, she had to get to Kesha.

She had to get her down.

She had to…

She came to a stop. Suddenly. Skidded in the mud.

She saw the tree where Kesha was.

Only Kesha wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

Three people stood around the bottom of Kesha’s tree. A woman and two men. All of them who Chloë recognised. All of them from Bardsey Island.

All of them were looking up at the top of the tree.

Looking up at Kesha, who was crying up there.

Looking up, smiles on their faces, guns in their hands.

They had her.

C
hloë’s heart
raced as she stared at the three Bardsey Islanders standing around the tree beneath Kesha.

They were laughing about something. Smiling. They all had guns in their hands and were dressed up in thick looking gear even though it was another warm afternoon. Above them, up the tree, Kesha was wailing. Hearing her cry just made Chloë feel even worse. Because it was her fault that she was stuck up that tree in the first place. If she hadn’t tied her up there, left her behind, this wouldn’t be a problem.

But she was. And Chloë had done what she’d done.

She had to live with that.

For a moment, as the taste of vomit thickened in Chloë’s mouth, she wondered if maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing at all. After all, Kesha had been found. She was going to be okay. These islanders were going to take her away and she was going to be safe.

But was she really?

Did she really believe that after seeing what Garth did to the other babies back on Bardsey Island?

Something told Chloë that these people had different plans for Kesha. That they didn’t really care about her. They cared about themselves.

But for some reason, they wanted Kesha.

For some reason that would benefit themselves.

So she had to do something.

She started to shuffle closer. Tighten her grip on the knife. These people were armed, but she could use the knife on one of them. Try and take them down. But no. They’d just shoot her. They’d just turn around and shoot her. She had to try something else. She had to find another way. She had to…

She heard the groans in the woods behind. Heard the footsteps edging closer. She knew if she sat here much longer, the monsters would be upon her. She had to move.

Unless…

Chloë turned around. Looked at the silhouettes moving through the trees.

She saw what she had to do in an instant.

She edged back towards the monsters. Got closer and closer to them, so they were absolutely sure where she was.

And when she got closer to them, she turned back around. Made sure they followed her. Followed her around the outskirts of the open area where the islanders surrounded Kesha’s tree. Followed her, as she kept as quiet as she could, as low as she could.

She reached the other side of the tree. She could still hear the footsteps behind her. But the islanders hadn’t. They were still too interested in the tree. One of them was halfway up there, close to reaching Kesha’s wailing position. Shit. He was going to get Kesha. He was going to get her and then he was going to get down here and the monsters were going to get them all. She needed to do something else. She needed to distract the islanders. She needed to think.

She glanced back at the monsters on her left. She knew they’d be at the islanders’ position any minute now. But any minute wasn’t good enough. She had to try something else.

She pulled back her knife. She didn’t want to let go of it. Didn’t want to lose it.

She aimed it at the back of the neck of the woman. Readied herself to throw it.

And then she heard gunshots from the other side of the monsters.

Gunshots, changing the direction of the monsters.

The woman who Chloë aimed the knife at spun around. Squinted into the undergrowth. Stepped towards it. “Hear that?”

The bald man, who Chloë thought was called Steve, but she couldn’t properly remember, nodded. “Hard not to hear it. Wanna go check it out?”

The woman shook her head. “We know what we’ve gotta do. Get the girl and get back to camp.”

“But, Cara, if there’s—”

“You know what our orders are, Steve.”

Chloë watched Steve and Cara in the midst of their argument. The other islander reached the top of the tree. Grabbed Kesha.

“Got her!”

“Alright,” Cara said. “Then you get your butt back down here so we can get ourselves the hell out of—”

Cara didn’t finish what she was saying.

Chloë threw the knife right into the side of her neck.

She ran at her. Ran at the back of Cara as she clutched her neck, blood spewing out of it, gargling and choking her.

Steve didn’t even notice at first. Took him a few seconds to properly process what was happening.

When he did, he was already too late.

Chloë had Cara’s gun.

She squeezed the trigger with all the strength she had in her left arm.

Blasted three bullets right into the middle of his chest.

She dropped the gun, then. It was too heavy for her anyway. She pulled the knife out of Cara’s neck. Cara still wasn’t dead. Her eyes were wide. Her face was white. She pressed against her skin, trying to keep the blood from gushing out. Chloë knew she wouldn’t be alive for much longer.

Chloë watched the man and Kesha climb further down the tree. He was grinning away to himself. Whistling away. Chatting, like his two friends were still down here just waiting.

Behind, Chloë heard the monsters getting closer.

Heard the gunshots whooshing past just feet away.

She had to hurry.

She had to hurry the hell up.

The third man stepped down onto the ground, Kesha in his arms. “Hell, she’s heavy for a kid. Heavy considerin’ she’s—”

Chloë pressed the knife into his neck.

Pierced his skin.

Pushed it so hard that it hit the bone at the back, made him twitch like mad, drop Kesha to the forest floor below.

She pulled back the knife. And then she grabbed Kesha. The gunshots and the monster groans were so close now. She knew she needed to get out of here. Knew she needed to get the hell out of here fast.

But then she saw something in the man’s top pocket. A gun. A pistol. Smaller than the weapons the other people had. Small enough to operate with one hand.

Caught in two minds, she stumbled back to the man’s side. Grabbed the pistol out of his top pocket.

His hand shot up and pulled on Chloe’s arm.

Chloë tried to yank away. The gun went flying out of her hand. She tried to pull away from this man, choking on his own blood. She could hear voices. Hear voices so close. Kesha was crying.

She had to get away.

She had to run.

She had to…

The man’s hand went limp.

The light in his eyes faded away.

Chloë felt relief build in her stomach. She stood. Turned. Started to run away from the voices, the monsters, the—

“Don’t move another fucking muscle, kid.”

Chloë stopped. Closed her eyes. Her heart pounded. The voice. The voice was right behind her. Not far away at all.

She thought about running. About just taking her chances.

“Seriously. I’ll put a bullet through those skinny little ankles of yours if you so much as make a flinch in that direction.”

Chloë shook her head. Felt sickness overcome her.

She was trapped. There was no way out.

She’d lost.

She let go of her breath.

And then she turned around, shoulders slumped.

Standing opposite her were seven people. Seven islanders, all dressed like their friends in thick black clothes, like riot gear. All of them pointing guns right at Chloë.

The woman at the front of the group—a woman Chloë recognised as Laura—smiled. “Game’s up, kid. Walk over here with the baby. And we’ll think about letting you live.”