Free Chloe Zombie Apocalypse series (Book 2): The Journey by Ryan Casey

distance.
    She looked back at Dan.
    Then she did the only thing she could right now.
    She turned around and she ran.
    She sprinted through the trees. Branches slashed her skin. She heard Dan’s footsteps getting closer. Heard him panting as he raced her through the woods. He was quick. Quicker than the usual slow ones they came across.
    He was quick, and he could scream.
    What were these monsters?
    What were these…
    Up ahead, two more monsters emerged.
    A woman with long, blonde hair, all matted and tufted. She was naked. Her left breast had been devoured.
    And a man. Also naked. His leg had been chewed so much that Chloë could see the bones, which flies swarmed around.
    She looked at them.
    Looked back at Dan, who kept on hurtling towards her.
    And again, she ran.
    She listened to the footsteps of the three monsters hurtling towards her. She’d heard the scream around here somewhere. Unless… No. No, that scream couldn’t have been these monsters. Monsters didn’t scream like that. They couldn’t scream like that.
    But then she thought of some of the other monsters she’d seen since the world went bad. She thought of some of the stories she’d overheard. Stories of the monsters changing. “Adapting,” as Riley, a guy from her old group, used to put it.
    She kept on running through the trees, which didn’t get any thinner.
    The monsters kept on getting closer.
    She wanted Mum.
    She wanted Elizabeth.
    She wanted her entire family.
    She wanted—
    Gunshots cracked through the trees to her left.
    Three shots.
    And then silence.
    Chloë’s heart pounded. She turned around. Squinted back at the oncoming monsters.
    They were all on the ground.
    Blood rolling out of the heads of each.
    Standing by their side, the dark-haired man called Colin.
    He looked at Chloë. Nodded, his smile slanted.
    Chloë nodded back at him. Her muscles went weak. She wanted to be still. To let the relief sink in.
    And then she heard the scream again.
    Her body tightened up.
    It was right beyond Colin. Right behind him.
    Chloë walked up to Colin. Stepped past him. Pushed aside the branches.
    When she saw through the trees, a sour taste filled her mouth.
    It was Cassandra. The woman who lost her baby while in the Church of Youth camp.
    She was crouched beside her son, Reggie.
    A hand on his shoulder.
    Blood spurting out of a bite wound on his chest.
    “It’s okay,” Cassandra said, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. Her ginger hair was tucked behind her ears. Her son just stared at his chest. Stared at the hole in his white t-shirt. He shook his head vigorously. “No. No. No. No.”
    Chloë walked further into the middle of the scene. She saw Hassan. Anisha. She saw Jackson and Arnold. She saw her dad.
    She walked up beside Reggie, a painful lump swelling in her throat. Her limbs felt so heavy. She just wanted to run. Run away. Get away from all of this. Get away from everything.
    “Please,” Reggie cried, shaking his head, tucking it into his mother’s neck. “Please don’t let me turn. Please don’t let me turn.”
    The sour taste built in Chloë’s mouth as she turned around. Walked over to Colin.
    “The gun,” she whispered.
    Colin lowered his head. “I—I just kept it cause—”
    “Just give me the gun.”
    Colin sighed. Shook his head.
    Then he handed Chloë the gun.
    Chloë turned back.
    Walked over towards Reggie.
    Every step was heavy. The lump in her throat morphed into a pain in her chest. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t lose another.
    But she had to.
    She couldn’t let Reggie suffer.
    She couldn’t let him turn.
    “Don’t let me go, Mum,” Reggie spluttered. “Please don’t let me turn.”
    Cassandra looked up at Chloë. She sobbed uncontrollably, stroked the back of Reggie’s curly ginger hair. “It’s okay. We won’t let you turn. We won’t let you turn at all. My boy. My precious boy.”
    Chloë felt nausea building inside as she stepped up to Reggie.
    As the eyes of the group—the