Free Chloe Zombie Apocalypse series (Book 1): Chloe by Ryan Casey

she’s asleep. That’s what keeps her alive. ”
    Chloë remembered Mum’s words as the ground inched closer.
    She loosened her muscles.
    Thumped into the ground.
    For a moment, she felt startled. Her head had collided with the ground, which was far more solid than its soily surface suggested. She heard ringing in her ears. Tasted blood in her mouth from her bitten tongue.
    But she was over.
    She hadn’t fallen into the ditch.
    She was alive.
    She was—
    She heard rustling. Rustling right opposite.
    Rustling from the cabin.
    She froze. Her heart picked up. She had to move. She had to hide. Nobody could find her out here. Nobody could—
    The tall, blond man stepped out the front of the cabin.
    Chloë was convinced he’d seen her. She sat there, completely still. Saw him just ten feet away.
    She swore he looked right at her.
    But instead of walking towards her, instead of acknowledging her at all, he turned and headed past the front of the cabin.
    Unzipped his trousers and started peeing against the fence.
    Chloë’s muscles loosened. She knew she was hardly safe, still. She had to hurry. Get into the tent before he came back. She couldn’t risk him looking at her. Not after she’d come so close to being seen the first time.
    He kept on pissing against the fence.
    Chloë twisted her neck in the direction of the tent.
    So close. Just a few metres away.
    She took another couple of deep breaths.
    And she ran.
    She felt something burn through the sole of her foot just before she reached the tent. Something that made her stumble.
    Shit. The fire. The charred logs of the fire.
    She hobbled towards the tent. Pulled aside the opening. Tried to stay as quiet as possible. Tried not to—
    “Hello?”
    The man’s voice made Chloë’s entire body solidify.
    She wanted to turn around. Wanted to turn away from the tent. Hold her hands up. Admit she’d sneaked in. Accept she’d done wrong.
    But she couldn’t.
    She just couldn’t.
    So she stepped inside the darkness of the tent.
    The man’s footsteps got closer. He got so close that Chloë could hear his heavy breathing. She looked around the tent. Looked around for something she could use as a weapon. Anything she could use as a weapon.
    No knives in sight.
    No guns.
    No…
    She saw the keys beside the bottles of water.
    A big bundle of keys. Loads of key rings—The Simpsons figures, bottle openers.
    A penknife.
    Chloë crept through the tent. Dropped down to the keys. She could use the knife. Use the knife to slit the man’s throat.
    And then she could be out of here on the motorbike before anyone realised what was going on.
    She felt the lump in her throat building as the man’s footsteps stopped right outside the tent. She grabbed the keys. Unfolded the penknife. Turned back around and faced the tent entrance.
    She waited for the man to pull the tent opening aside.
    Waited for him to poke his head inside.
    And then she heard a groan.
    “Fuck,” the man said, relief evident in his shaky voice. “Holy fuck.”
    He walked away from the tent.
    Chloë heard him extend the ladder on the inside walls of the camp. The one she’d seen the group looking over before they went into their tents for the night.
    She heard him climb up it.
    Climb up to the source of the groaning.
    She loosened her grip on the knife.
    He was distracted.
    She had her distraction.
    She had her chance.
    She walked to the entrance of the tent. Peeked through. Saw the man leaning right over the wall. Pointing a crossbow at something in the woods below. Smile on his face.
    She turned her head. Looked at the motorbike. She could get onto it. Start it up. Then she could use one of the other keys to open the gated area of the fence—impossible to see from outside, clearly up ahead now she was on the inside. Whoever had built this camp was good with wood. Good with building, full stop.
    Maybe they were good people.
    She didn’t have time to find out.
    She held her breath. Heart racing. Butterflies flapping