‘Jenn is a good CO. She’ll get them out of any fix they get themselves into,’ he thought.

  “Any idea where we are?”

  He turned to face his wife, who had one eye open.

  “Vermont… I think. I don’t know. Everything looks the same. Trees, hills, mountains. We’re heading west.”

  “Any sign of…”

  “No. But now that’s its day, they could be tracking us from the sky. I was thinking we’re far enough away now, we need to find somewhere to stay, until sunset. I’m fighting to keep my eyes open.”

  She looked down at her children. “Yes, the kids need to get some real sleep.” She looked at him. “As do you…”

  “I didn’t want to leave the gas station…” He glanced at her. “You know that, right?”

  “I know… It’s not your fault… She… hasn’t been the same, since… Sam.” She wanted to say more, but instead her words became a breath which she slowly let escape.

  Joe steered the truck around a long shallow bend, the surrounding landscape being thick woodland, with hints of far away mountains, but then slowed, spotting a sign.

  The word ‘lodge’ was part of a longer name, and that was enough for him to stop. With the engine idling they looked at the wooden two-story buildings at the top of a small hill, and with no words passing between them, he drove onto the track and up a slight incline.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  GRACE

  The older woman gripped Grace’s hand. Her bloodshot eyes full of desperation. “I want to return to the farm,” said Marge, who then forced a quivering smile. “Where I can roam the fields and forest, like I used to. Like… we used to. Can you do that for me? Can you take me back there?”

  Grace had no choice but to smile and nod. They were in one of the single cabins. Just the two of them. But the flimsy door did not do too much to quieten the sounds of sobs and shouts in the rest of the large vessel. Right now, none of that was important.

  Marge’s face turned more solemn. “I told him it was a bad idea, but he wouldn’t listen. He was always stubborn. Always had to have his own way and always getting into trouble, which I had to…” Her mouth trembled, while tears ran down her face. Within her grip, Grace could feel her faltering heart. The muscle doing its best with limited resources to try and keep Marge’s remaining blood flowing around her body. But she had lost too much, the arteries being too damaged with no way to plug the leaks.

  Marge looked upwards, as if seeing something the doctor could not. It was an expression she had seen many times during her career. “I think I can hear him.” She sniggered. “He’s laughing at me. Says things will… be…”

  Marge’s head slumped to the side in conjunction with her pulse fading.

  Grace placed her hand on Grace’s neck and waited. As she did, the sounds were getting louder on the deck above. People were arguing.

  “Rest in peace.” Words that her professional self would always say at such an occasion. She pulled the sheet from under the body and laid it across Marge’s face, and sat, not wanting to leave the confined space. It had been a minor miracle they escaped from the house on the island. Bullets were flying but luckily the grounds were dark, and she together with most of the others, managed to get across them and into the woods, while returning fire. It wasn’t until they were most of the way to the dock that they realised they were without three of their group.

  She let out a sigh, thinking about Jenn. She never knew her that well, but she was a good leader. She had gotten them this far, and now she was gone. As was Joe. And they had a boat full of people to take care of, while being hunted by the authorities or whoever the people on the island were.

  She stood, ignoring the pain from her own injuries, mostly scrapes from branches, and pulled open the door to the narrow passage and doors to other cabins. Including the largest which was virtually an apartment sized space, with its own kitchen and restroom. That’s where most of the women, dressed in white, currently were.

  A set of boots appeared at the top of the stairs. She recognised them belonging to one of Marge’s people. The only one still breathing.

  Kelly saw from her expression that it wasn’t good news. He gestured behind him. “You better come up to the bridge. They’re arguing about where to go.”

  She wanted to go back inside and be with the dead woman. “I’m a doctor. Let them figure it out.”

  “The military woman. She says you should be up there to help make the decision, but the Australian has his mind set on where we should head.”

  She moved to the bottom of the stairs. “How’s the bandage holding?”

  He frowned. “Ain’t a zombie…” He looked down, lost in thought, then back to her. “You reckon they’re all dead? The people at the camp?”

  She let out a sigh. “I don’t know.” She looked back at the small room. “She’s going to need to be disposed of. Soon, before she turns. I thought you should be the one to do it…”

  He descended, pushed open the door without talking and closed it behind him. She continued up to the main deck, hearing the raised voices above and kept on going to the topmost level of the boat.

  Greg was at the wheel, while Lauren, Groves, Clara and Aaron were sitting and standing nearby. Luckily, the sea was fairly calm.

  “And what are we going to do with all of them?!” asked Groves to Clara and Lauren, the two women appearing to be of the same opinion, which Groves and Greg disagreed with.

  Clara who appeared pale, was sitting on a padded seat at the back of the room. “So all of this was for nothing? We just dump them on the shore somewhere and leave?”

  Greg answered first, although his eyes were still on the darkness outside. “This ain’t a want kind of situation. The assholes on that island, are not going to stop looking for you. And carrying around the people on this boat is just going to make it easier for them to find you. And then they will kill all of them anyway.”

  Groves nodded. “The best thing for everyone is we find a safe spot for them, and then… we go. We head west, try to get across the deadzone. Try and get to the IFSA.”

  “What about the camp? Joe and the others?” said Grace.

  The room fell silent before Lauren spoke. “You know the camp was probably attacked. I wouldn’t bet against Joe getting out of that. If he has, then he and whoever went with him, would be heading west as well.”

  Clara folded her arms. “I’m not going anywhere without the women we rescued. If people want to leave then, then you’ll go without me.”

  Lauren looked back at Grace, who felt more than a little uncomfortable. “What do you think?”

  “Marge is gone.”

  “Oh…”

  Grace moved further onto the bridge, leaning against the wall. “The more of us there are, the better we can survive against the undead. Only Clara here, is immune. The army or whoever those people were, doesn’t change that.”

  “Also makes us a bigger target,” said Greg, his single hand lightly adjusting the large wooden wheel, which seemed out of place against the more modern equipment.

  Groves continued Greg’s thinking. “We don’t have the camp anymore. We don’t have many weapons. Hardly any food or water… I want to help these women as much as anyone here, but…”

  “The General would have understood,” said Greg.

  There was a creak from the stairs and everyone looked at Heather, standing at the top.

  “We don’t know who these people are,” she said, stepping onto the bridge. “Have you even spoken to them? Maybe there are doctors or scientists. We just see them as brainwashed drones, but what if we have this all back to front? What if we need them more than they need us?”

  There was silence in the room.

  Greg let out a breath. “The kid has a point.”

  Heather frowned, while Groves shook her head. “So what do we do then?” said the older woman.

  “We’re going to need transport,” said Lauren. “Five or size cars or a few vans. A bus maybe.”

  “Vans are going to be easier,” said Greg. “Less vehicles. Less fuel. Easier to control the situation… So that’s settled then. I’m taking us in.” He turned to face Heather. “Go on then. Find out who these people are. See if any of them will actually be useful.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  MATHEW

  Mathew lay on the single bed, not being able to sleep, despite the drapes being closed and the silence seeping from every gap in the planks across the walls. How could he? How could anyone, although he was fairly sure most of the others were, apart from maybe Aiden. That guy appeared to never sleep.

  He sat up, got out of his bed and moved to the window, pulling the drape back and looked out into fields, trees and… A figure slowly moved across an expanse of long faded grass. Not towards the lodge but away, with a staggering, stop, start motion. It was one of the undead. A reanimated body, aimlessly wandering through the wilderness. He wondered how many similarly isolated beings there were. Thousands? Millions? All looking for people to devour. To make like themselves. It was an equation the living couldn’t balance. Ultimately, the undead would be all that’s left…

  He closed his eyes, trying not to think of Heather. It had been the same from the moment he left the camp, each step away from it, being harder than the last, but there was something that gave him hope. She was the smartest person he knew. Always bet on smart his father used to say.

  It was his intelligence and blind luck that had kept him alive but it hadn’t kept him whole… Every few days there had been another sacrifice.

  What were once his hands, he held up in front of his face. Now they were blunt instruments to merely shunt things around… He shivered from an image that jumped into his mind, of Heather laying on the ground with no arms or legs, not dead, but screaming to be made so.

  Death, the old kind and the new had become so frequent it hardly registered when Maggie failed to return to the pickup. Just the latest person of a long roster of people he once knew, now gone, he thought.

  A noise outside dragged him from his own mind, and he looked upon a landscape bathed in the pink-orange rays of the rising sun. Someone was out there, walking across the track, then grass. It was the American and he seemed to have a destination in mind, because he was walking in a straight line…

  Aiden was heading for the thing Mathew had seen moments before.

  Intrigued, and with a little difficulty, he unlatched the bedroom window and pushed it open. He could see both forms clearer now and they were getting closer to each other. Aiden began to jog, arriving at the undead figure, just as it whipped around in the long reeds, somewhat aware that there was something or someone close by. With a swift movement Aiden slashed across the zombie, making it stagger backwards. It lashed out, confused, not understanding what was happening. Aiden repeating the gesture, pushing the undead away, where it stumbled a little before walking forward once more.

  This game continued for minutes and it was obvious to Mathew that Aiden was enjoying it. A cat playing with a mouse, he thought, but it suddenly came to an end when Aiden drove his blade into it again and again. A furious volley of blows that halted the thing’s attempt to get to him. Even from distance, Mathew could see the ground become darker with the creature’s blood, until it dropped to the ground, defeated…

  Aiden continued attacking, slicing, carving. The zombie’s body being torn apart, becoming smaller pieces.

  He felt sick. What was he watching?

  Aiden flicked his head in the lodge’s direction causing Mathew to move just as quick, away from the window. He wasn’t sure why he did that but was glad he did. After a short while, he peeked around the side of the window frame. The dismembered body was still there, but Aiden was gone.

  Mathew quickly closed the window, making an attempt to do it quietly in case the sound traveled, and fighting the urge to wash his hands, moved to the door, making sure it was locked then returned to the bed, dragging the sheet up around his shoulders.

  Before allowing himself to sleep he waited until he heard the downstairs door open and close, and then listened to the sound of boots walk slowly up to the first floor and Aiden’s own bedroom door open and close.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  HEATHER

  The horizon was a series of low-lying cliffs and long sandy beaches, with the occasional coastal town of some short. Many miles beyond was one of the major cities of the eastern seaboard. A place they needed to avoid. Heather hoped Greg’s idea of heading south rather than going back the way they came would pay off. It would be more densely populated where they were traveling to. More of the undead, which would make it harder for their group to be found. At least that was the plan.

  “I used to live in Philly.”

  She looked to her side at the thirty something dark-haired woman. Most of the group that had come from the island were now dressed in different clothing items. Designer labels that had been found amongst the cabins and were now laid atop the women’s white dresses.

  The woman smiled. “You ever been?”

  “No.”

  The woman looked back to the shoreline, which was getting closer. “I couldn’t wait to get out of the place. My pa used to bring myself and my sister out here for the summers. I’m Patricia, but everyone calls me Patty.”

  “Heather.”

  “I know. I heard you talking to some of the others… I wasn’t sold on the whole Michael thing, like most of them were. But while the world was ending, that place offered safety, food and somewhere to sleep. And… I thought all they might want is some eggs or something. You know, to start again. Didn’t sound too crazy considering what had happened…” she sighed, looking down. “I should have known better.”

  “You survived. That’s what matters.”

  “Only just, from what your friend told us.” She shook her head. “I knew some of the women that went to the birthing chamber… If Clara hadn’t shot that asshole, I would have done. She blinded him at the end, she said. That was good but he still got off easy.”

  Heather smiled to herself, as more details became apparent on the coast. A lighthouse sat at the end of a strip of land. The boat was heading into a wide channel, leaving the ocean behind. “What did you used to do? You know, before it happened?”

  The women appeared a little uncomfortable with the question.

  “I don’t mean to pry…”

  “Nah, you’re good. It’s just, since it all went to shit, I’ve been lying when asked that.” She let out a breath. “If people knew I was a cop, then they would want me to help. How can you help when the world’s ending? How you going to stop that? All you can do is disappoint, so I kept quiet. Told people I worked in a bank. Which was true. Used to work as security between shifts. People don’t ask any more about ya, if you work in a bank. It’s not like money is any use anymore. What about you?”

  Heather began to answer, but Aaron ducked out from the hatch behind, and called her to come up to the bridge. She made her way up top. Greg was still piloting, while Lauren and Baldwin were huddled over a large fold-out map they had found beneath the padded seats.

  “We know where we going?” she enquired, moving closer to see the map.

  Lauren traced a line across it. “We’re taking the channel in a few miles, then using the skiff to take everyone ashore, south of Delaware City, which looks far enough away from any major population centre so there won’t be too many of the undead. They will expect us to go to a proper dock or marina, but we’re not going to do that.”

  Baldwin continued. “We find a building to hold up in, and myself and Aaron will scout for some vehicles. We wait until night, then we take them and head out.”

  “Do we have any plan for what we do when we get to the wall?”

  “We’re not going to wall,” said Greg.

  “We’re not?”

  “Nope. We’re going south to Mexico. Then to the Pacific. We find a boat there, and we go north, along the west coast to the IFSA.” He glanced back. “Get everyone ready. We’re only a few minutes from dropping anchor.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CLARA

  Clara’s limbs complained as her boots met the pebbles of the small beach. Aaron was already standing at the top of a line of dunes, amongst some reeds, and wasn’t waving his arms for them to go back in the skiff, so she presumed he wasn’t seeing any danger.

  “You okay there, dear?”

  She turned around to face a woman twice her age, wading through the surf, her long white dress sticking out beneath a thick woollen jumper. Clara offered her arm which was gladly taken and together they walked onto a sandy area as five others disembarked, joining a group of around twenty already there.

  “I’m Evelyn. Of course, I know you’re Clara, the brave young woman who came back for all of us!”

  Clara forced a brief smile as the woman walked through the sand to the others. Despite the evidence to the contrary being right in front of her, Clara’s thoughts had been plagued with doubt of what they had done. Olive, she never cared for, but her daughter deserved better, despite the betrayal that led them all into a trap. Then there was everyone at the camp… and Jenn. At least twice the amount they saved, had died in the rescue. She was so sure it was the right thing to do. But as she stood on the breezy beach, it was obvious the horror she had been forced to partake in, had stained her mind and warped her thinking. Returning to the island had been a mistake and it was her fault. She wasn’t sure how she would live with that, but she wouldn’t be making the same mistake again.

  Kelly awkwardly climbed out of the skiff, walking to the shore and looked back to the luxury yacht that had already began listing to the port side. “It’s a real shame to scupper her. But Greg says it’s better if she’s below water. Makes it harder for the military to spot her.”

  Clara turned back to the dunes, and those making their way to the top of them, where Greg and Lauren could be seen, waving everyone up to them. With Kelly she joined the large group that had collected together on a road, which ran to a parking lot nearby, and along the back of the beach in the other direction.