Free Infection Z 3 by Ryan Casey Page A

foot was bloodied and mangled inside it.
    Gary screamed. His face was completely pale. He clutched his ankle and stared at his injured foot in disbelief.
    “You—you need to get up,” Hayden said. He heard the gasps getting closer. Saw the branches behind shaking.
    “I—I can’t, mate. My foot. Fuck. My fucking foot. My fucking—arghhh!”
    Hayden cringed when Gary screamed. And it was a cringe that didn’t feel right because he knew he was cringing more for his own safety than with Gary’s pain.
    But he had to make a decision right now. He had to do something.
    He looked up. Sarah and Holly getting further away. He was losing sight of them. Fast.
    Gary screamed.
    Behind, the branches swayed. Gasps got louder. Hungrier. Closer.
    Gary screamed.
    Hayden crouched beside Gary. “You—you need to be quiet. You need to be quiet or—”
    “My foot my fucking foot my—argh!”
    Hayden heard the rustling of the branches and the gasps and the cries all as one. He moved his hands towards the rusty, blood-soaked trap. “You need to keep still. We don’t have much—”
    “Please make it stop. Please make it stop.” Tears rolled down Gary’s cheeks as he clutched his ankle, stared up at the moving mass of the trees behind, awaiting his fate.
    Hayden’s heart raced. He’d lost sight of Sarah and Holly completely. Soon it would be just him and Gary. And then Gary would bleed out and it would be just him. Just Hayden, all alone in a deathly woods in the middle of nowhere.
    Exhausted. Trapped.
    No.
    He wrapped his hands around the teeth of the trap and tried to pry it open.
    It didn’t budge.
    Gary roared with pain.
    Gary’s blood covered Hayden’s fingers. And right there, holding Gary’s ankle upright, he understood. He understood what this was. He understood the decision he had to make. A cruel decision. An impossible decision. A decision that shouldn’t even be in his hands.
    But the necessary decision.
    “Keep as still as you can,” Hayden said. He dropped the rucksack and reached into it with his quivering fingers. In the corner of his eye, he saw the zombies approaching.
    “What—what—”
    Hayden swung the mallet into the side of Gary’s head.
    “I’m sorry, Gary,” he said. “I’m … I’m so sorry.”
    And then he laid down a sharp handsaw at Gary’s unconscious side and he stood up and ran.
    He ran away from the gasps and the cries of the zombies.
    He ran through the branches, onwards and onwards in the trickling glow of the late winter sun.
    He ran like someone was controlling him. Someone playing a sandbox video game with multiple routes of good and evil to choose from.
    He was never the evil. Ever.
    Until now.
    No!
    He’d done what was right for Gary.
    What was kindest.
    There was no hope for him.
    Nothing.
    He ran and ran through the trees and he felt a warm tear roll down his cheek as Gary’s blood crusted in his palms.

Fifteen
    H ayden sprinted through the woods as fast as his wrecked body would allow him.
    His feet ached with pain. Every tree he ran past blended into one. Sometimes, he thought he heard a voice—the voice of Sarah or Holly up ahead—but when he emerged from the trees, all he saw was more twigs, more branches, thick, constant, endless.
    It was the middle of the day but a darkness hung over Hayden. The darkness of his actions; of what he’d done. He didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to face up to it. But he had to.
    He’d knocked Gary out. Left him behind to be feasted on by the oncoming mass of zombies. Left a blade beside him, just in case he woke up and needed to take a stand against the zombies.
    Or to make his own decision about the next step.
    Hayden felt tears dripping down his chapped, scratched face as he kept on running. Sickness welled at the back of his throat, the smells of death refusing to leave his senses. He’d done the only thing he could for Gary. The only thing that seemed right at that moment in time. Because he was trapped. His foot was