“
H
elp me
! Please!”
The voice.
The voice of a young boy.
Or was it a girl?
Was it his…
Sister.
Clarice.
No, his older sister, Annabelle.
She was upset.
She was crying about something.
She was—
Hayden was in a corridor. In a darkened corridor. Rain lashed down outside. The moon kept on drifting across the frosted window, moving from side to side, bathing Hayden in light. The scream echoed around his mind.
“Please! Please don’t leave!”
He couldn’t leave. No. He had to do the right thing. He had to save the boy.
He had to save everyone.
He tried to run. But his feet were stuck. Glued down by something.
Blood.
No…
He looked down and saw the faces of those he cared for. Clarice. Sarah. Danny. Annabelle. Mum. Dad. Everyone.
He saw their greying faces staring up at him with angry eyes.
Saw their mouths wrapping around his feet.
Holding him down.
Trying to bite.
He heard the scream again. Heard the cry.
When he looked up, he saw the boy.
He was at the other side of the window. Outside the house. Banging against the glass. Young. Six, seven, maybe older, maybe younger. Wasn’t sure. Couldn’t be sure.
All that mattered was he was in danger. He was screaming. He needed help.
Hayden tried to shout at the boy. Tried to tell him everything was going to be okay. That he’d be there for him any moment.
But he couldn’t open his mouth. His mouth was glued shut.
He couldn’t run.
He couldn’t cry.
The boy’s screams got louder and louder, the bright light of the moon drifting behind him once more…
He looked into the eyes of the boy and he saw it now. Saw it like he always did. Like he always saw it.
“You take a look around the back and I’ll…”
Blood drooling out of the boy’s eyes.
“DON’T LEAVE ME!”
Fear filling the boy’s pale face.
“…Should be a way in round there.”
Hayden pushed harder. Pushed to run. But he knew it was pointless. Knew it was no good. He was trapped. Held down by the people he cared about. The people he’d lost.
All because he wasn’t strong enough for this world.
And now he had to watch.
He saw the teeth around the little boy’s neck.
Saw it, just like he’d seen it three weeks ago.
He heard the final, deafening shriek from the boy.
And then he watched the boy’s neck explode.
Watched blood splatter all over the window.
Watched it smash the glass—
Hayden jolted upright. Heart racing. Sweat covering his forehead. He looked around, struggling for breath. He was in Danny’s house. On Danny’s sofa. Must’ve fallen asleep. Must’ve…
He saw the light drift through the conservatory, into the lounge.
His body froze.
People.
He rolled over the back of the sofa. Crouched behind it. Didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know where to go. Only they couldn’t see him. He couldn’t let anyone see him.
Even if they weren’t bad people, he couldn’t run the risk of them seeing him.
Because he needed to be alone.
“Jelly. Peanut butter. Jesus, there’s a whole bunch of treats in here.”
“Keep your voice down, prick. It’s not your fucking fat fetish we’re here to please.”
Hayden saw the light hit the top of the sofa. A torchlight. Just as bright as the moon in his dream. Thinking of it, he’d heard voices. Muffled voices from outside his nightmare.
If only he’d woken up sooner.
If only he’d…
Someone stepped into the lounge.
Hayden crouched further. Held his breath. Listened to the heavy footsteps move across the wooden flooring. He could smell aftershave on the people. Decent aftershave. Probably something they’d stolen. No,
definitely
something they’d stolen.
The men who valued appearance in spite of all the destruction were definitely ones to avoid in this world.
“You take a look upstairs. I’ll scan the lounge.”
The other man sighed.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“That fucking sigh. What’s that about?”
Silence from the other guy. Then, “I—I just think we’ve got plenty already. Gonna be one cramped truck if we wedge any more in.”
“And you think that’s a problem?”
“I just think—”
“Ssh. I think I heard something.”
Hayden’s body tensed. He looked around for his hammer but…
“A hammer?”
His stomach sank. His hammer. He’d left his fucking hammer lying on the sofa.
Covered in blood.
Danny’s blood.
He heard the man’s footsteps get closer to the sofa. Heard one of the men reach right down towards it. The torchlight was so close. So close to revealing Hayden’s location. To revealing where he was.
He waited for them to move the light behind the sofa. For them to investigate.
“Might come in handy,” the aggressive guy with the deeper voice said.
They stepped away from the sofa. And Hayden heard their footsteps moving towards the hallway door.
“Guess we’ll both check upstairs seeing as you’re too pussy to go up yourself.”
“I’m not too pussy. I’m just… ah, shit.”
Hayden lifted his neck slightly. He knew from the cursing that they’d just found Danny’s hanging body.
“He definitely dead?”
“See the shape of his fucking head? Looks pretty worse for wear to me.”
Hayden listened to their footsteps climb the creaky stairs. As they climbed, he crept over the back of the sofa. Did all he could not to make any noise as he stood there in the darkness. He looked outside. Saw more movement. Heard some kind of engine rumbling. A truck? And what was that they said about stuffing something inside?
He wasn’t keen on sticking around to find out.
He crept across the floorboards. Reached the conservatory door. They’d smashed the glass completely. His route out into the garden lay ahead.
Just had to climb the fence.
Then run.
Run to…
Well. He didn’t know anymore. Just away from here. Away from people. Away from everything.
Find a quiet place to roll over and die.
A place in the bushes to rot in peace.
He crept across the conservatory floor, the muffled voices of the two men receding further up the stairs. He climbed over the cracked glass, being careful not to nip his feet and stepped out into the fresh night air. Chilly. Way too chilly. Felt even worse that he’d been suddenly jolted from his sleep.
His mind still wasn’t tuned in.
Wasn’t thinking clearly.
He ran across the grass. The sound of the engine seemed louder now he was outside. He didn’t even want to look at the vehicle. Didn’t even want to acknowledge it was there.
Just like the silhouettes drifting into his consciousness.
Just like the memories of the boy…
He reached for the top of the fence. Pulled himself up. Just drop onto the other side. Run away. Simple as that. Simple as—
“Hey!”
He heard the voice behind him.
And then he felt the light surround him.
He turned around. Looked up.
The two men were standing at Danny’s bedroom window. Shining the light at Hayden.
“Don’t move another muscle,” the gruff-voiced guy said.
It was then that Hayden saw his gun.
Pointing right at him.
Finger on the trigger.
“
D
on’t move another muscle
, mate. This doesn’t have to get messy.”
Hayden gripped onto the top of the fence. His fingers ached. Shit—his entire body ached. He knew the street was on the other side. He knew he was just inches away from being surrounded by darkness, a nice change to the spotlight beaming down on him right now. He could hear the engine of the truck rumbling at the front of Danny’s house. Swore he could hear more voices, too.
“Clive, I don’t think we should—”
“Shut the fuck up,” the gruff-voiced man—Clive—muttered. “Lower yourself from the fence and walk this way. It’s important. Really. You’re gonna wanna hear what we’ve got on offer.”
Hayden smelled the fumes from the engine of the vehicle. That’s where Clive was wrong. He didn’t want to know what was in the truck. He didn’t want any idea what these two were up to. What they were trying to “cramp” onto the truck. He didn’t like the sound of it one bit.
So he kept hold of the fence.
Waited.
Wasn’t sure what for exactly. Just something. A moment.
A moment of action.
“Let me tell you how this is gonna work. You’re gonna climb down off that fence. Then we’re gonna talk about the next step.”
“Just tell him about the—”
“Fuck off!” Clive shouted at his companion. Hayden wasn’t sure what they were hiding, but they were hiding something. Clive’s friend knew something. He was trying to bargain with Hayden in some way. That much was obvious.
But Clive preferred the tough guy tactics.
“What’s it gonna be?” Clive asked.
Hayden kept hold of the fence top.
Saw the torchlight readjust, making sure to keep him front and centre in their vision.
Hayden swallowed a lump in his throat.
Closed his eyes.
Took a deep breath.
And then he dragged himself up the side of the fence and threw himself over.
He waited for the bullets to pierce his body. Waited for them to split through his skin. To crack his bones.
But they didn’t.
He hit the grassy verge on the other side of the fence. At the window, he heard Clive and his friend’s commotion. Heard the shouts. The panic.
He heard them running away from the window. Down the stairs.
But he was out.
He was alive.
Clive hadn’t fired his gun.
Hayden couldn’t deny his curiosity. Why hadn’t he shot him? Why hadn’t he just finished him off?
What did he want him for?
His thoughts were interrupted when he saw two figures wander out of the detached house across the road.
He didn’t need a light to know they were zombies.
He instinctively went to lift his hammer. Realised he didn’t have it anymore. Shit. Stupid idea leaving it on the sofa. Almost got him ratted out, now probably end up getting him killed.
“Wait!”
The shouting echoed from Danny’s house. Footsteps getting closer to the conservatory.
The engine of the truck around the front rumbling.
Hayden looked at the road ahead. A dead end. A cul de sac. But he knew if he managed to climb the fence at the end of the street, he’d find himself in his old school fields. Long grass. Vast. Lot of area without any kind of shelter.
But better than being here.
Better than risking staying put.
So he sprinted.
He sprinted down the road, away from the zombies and the men. He saw lights shine across the street. Saw them scan around. Did all he could to dodge them, like he was Sam Fisher on
Splinter Cell
or something.
He saw the green metal fence in the distance. A bit more overgrown behind it than it used to be, but it was something. He could climb it. Land on the other side.
Run for his life.
He saw more movement in the houses to his left. He wondered if they were just figments of his imagination; mirages of his mind.
But then he heard their gasps and he knew he was out of luck.
Zombies.
More zombies.
He needed to get to that fence. Get over it. Get away.
He saw the end of the road approaching. Saw the kerb he once sprained his ankle on, kicking it during a football game. The other kids laughed. Danny laughed.
After seeing Danny strung up in his house, eyes bulging, skin as pale as a dead fish, it was hard to imagine he’d ever laughed in his entire life.
No.
No time to reminisce.
No time to wish things were different.
Just had to get away.
He reached the kerb when the lights surrounded him. He heard voices. Muffled voices shouting at one another.
“It’s him! Stop him!”
He didn’t know who these people were. Just that they’d broken into Danny’s. They were looking for something.
And now they were chasing him.
He heard the bullets pepper around him. Heard them skim across the concrete as he reached the metal fence. He waited for one of them to pierce his flesh. To knock him down.
But again, none of them were hitting him.
As if they were trying
not
to hit him.
Why would they try not to hit him?
Why did they want him?
His mind was racing so much that he didn’t see the zombie on the other side of the fence.
But it saw him.
It grabbed his chest. Dragged Hayden towards the fence. Good job it had a fat face because its mouth was right between the metal poles, snapping away, inches from Hayden’s skin.
Hayden punched its hand. Tried to pull back, to drag himself free. He looked over his shoulder. Saw more of the figures—the dead figures—closing in. Further behind, the group. Five of them. All of them armed. All of them with torches.
Even further back, he saw the truck they’d spoken of.
A black truck with a compartment on the back.
A compartment to put… whatever they put in there.
He didn’t want to find out.
He couldn’t find out.
He grabbed the side of the fence. Pulled himself up. As he did, the zombie didn’t let go of his black bomber jacket. It just clung on by the tips of its fingers, still snapping away.
The dead weight was nigh on impossible to lift. But Hayden kept on pulling. Kept on lifting, straining, until he reached the top of the fence. Until the zombie’s neck was level with the sharp spike at the top of the metal.
Then, when he was absolutely sure the zombie’s chin was in place, he let go of the fence.
He fell to the ground. And for a terrifying moment, he thought the zombie might just fall with him.
It clutched onto him at first.
And then the pole split through its chin, pierced its head.
Hayden looked up at the zombie. It kept on snapping away, dangling onto the sharp metal by its head. He hadn’t quite got its neck. But he didn’t need to. It wasn’t a threat. Not anymore. Pity for it. Damned pity. But he didn’t have time to sympathise.
He rolled over. A sharp pain split through his right shoulder. Shit. Must’ve dislocated it or something. Not good. Not good at all.
He dragged himself up. Stretched for the top of the fence.
The pain in his right shoulder intensified.
“Shit.”
He took a few deep, steadying breaths. His mind spun. He had to climb the fence. He had to fight through the pain and he had to make it. There was no negotiating. The footsteps were approaching. Time was running out. Soon, they’d capture him. Soon, he’d be dead.
Or at least his solitude would.
And that wasn’t a good thing.
He went to reach for the fence again when he heard something directly behind.
An engine. An engine getting closer.
Gunfire popping.
A door opening.
Then closing.
Boots hitting the ground.
“No need to run anymore, my friend,” a voice said.
Hayden stared at the green metal fence. The pain in his shoulder grew more and more intense. He couldn’t get away. He couldn’t climb. He was trapped. This was it.
He turned around. Looked into the bright lights shining on him.
A man stepped forward. A man with shoulder length black hair, with thick glasses. He was dressed in a leather jacket and skinny blue jeans. But it didn’t look right. Looked like he was playing a role. Looked more like a doctor or a vet than a thug. No stereotypes intended.
“Just let me go,” Hayden winced, the pain in his shoulder creeping up.
The man smiled. He lowered his gun first, then his torch. “Oh, we will. We will. In fact, that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”
Hayden frowned. “What do you—”
“Steven, turn her around. About time we showed the gentleman his ride.”
The truck turned around. The man walked up to the door. Grabbed a handle.
“My ride?”
He turned back to Hayden. Smiled again. “Congratulations, bossman. You’ve won a front row ticket to eternal safety.”
He lowered the handle.
Pulled open the door.
It took Hayden a few seconds to realise what he was looking at.
But when he realised, every muscle in his body tensed.