In The End Box Set | Books 1-3 Stevens, GJ (story books to read TXT) 📖

“No,” I shouted. “No. Too dangerous.” I paused, pushing a little harder and realised there may never be a good time for introductions.

“Kid, what's your name?” I said, straining against a renewed effort.

The kid looked up as if I'd told him Santa Claus wasn't real, his face distant, eyebrows raising. Maybe he'd forgotten what he was called.

“Jack,” he eventually said in a quiet voice.

“Jack. I like that.”

The kid looked past me as another shove added to the pile, another low moan of air rolling out the putrid stench.

“My name's Logan,” I said, pausing. “I'd shake your hand if I could,” and tried to squeeze out a smile.

The kid wasn't impressed, his face deadpan. “Go see if Cassie...” I paused again. “Go see if the woman in the other room can lend a hand,” and gave the door another heave.

Before he ran the short distance, he placed the gun carefully in the opening of the kitchen beside me, then was back in just a few speeding heartbeats. He shook his head.

I understood, picturing Cassie's arms drenched in Naomi's blood. I wanted to say she might have to come anyway. Instead, I decided to try something else to test how these things would react.

Pulling a deep breath and trying to let my muscles relax, I spoke again.

“Jack, take the gun and get ready to run to the front room. If I don't follow, just shut this door,” I said, nodding toward the thin interior barrier. “Get the woman to pull the furniture across and stay there. You understand?” I watched as he stared back, looking like he was about to ask a question, about to ask me what I was up to.

I didn't have time. “Pick up the gun,” I said, and he did what he was told. “And take the dog too, right?” I said, raising my brows. “We have to give him a name.”

The kid looked at the dog, turning his head to the side and the tiniest of smiles appeared.

I took a final deep pull of air whilst trying to hold back my gag reflex and turned my head down to the floor, planting my foot back a few inches and letting my hold relax.

The door gave as I expected, slapping against my foot.

The kid jumped, looking to my side as I fought to stop the movement and keep my hold. The woman's dead foot was loose and free to move. It didn't. My test had failed and I'd lost valuable leverage, the weight so much stronger than before and my foot was slipping, the soles of my trainers squealing as they slid against the tiles.

The hallway darkened with my feet sliding, a hand peeling around the edge. It was the woman's; I could tell from the red of her nails, the fingers dowsed in dried blood.

I tried to push back, but I was already giving all I had. Something fluttered to the floor and I followed it down. A finger nail. False. For show; the remaining pink nail rough underneath, the edge jagged and bitten down to the skin.

My gaze shot back to the front door as the glass rattled with the boom of a fist against the wood.

“Help,” came the call. It was Andrew's panicked voice, I had no doubt.

The toddler wailed high, Jack turning, looking between his sister and the front door.

“Let him in, Jack. He's our friend,” I said, a new calmness in my voice. “Our friend,” I added in a whisper, the words relaxing as a weight lifted.

Jack turned with his face bunched in a question.

I confirmed in a nod and felt the pressure ease at my back. The weight was literally lifting. I felt a sudden relief that everything would be okay, but the feeling was only short-lived.

The events of the day flashed before my eyes. I looked down at my blood-soaked chest, remembering Naomi laid on the couch, Zoe lost out in the wilderness.

Jack was halfway to the door and I gave a heave, taking back some distance I'd lost and the realisation came; it was getting lighter because they were going after Andrew.

“Hurry,” I shouted, but Jack couldn't speed any more. He was there, his hands tangling at the locks, getting twisted like in a dream. It was already bad, a nightmare, but worse still. There was no possibility I would wake up.

The light from the front room dimmed. There were more of them coming around the edge. No time left.

The door sprung open and there was Andrew, red-faced, eyes wide, with terror running through him. But he was in one piece.

A smile bloomed on my face and mirrored by his, but both dropped as I saw a hand come around the door, grabbing the hood of Andrew's coat and yanking him back.

He pulled himself free, falling to the floor. He was inside.

Euphoria spread over me.

“Shut the door,” I screamed. More hands raked at the edges.

The temperature fell and my heart sank with it as I saw in the distance Lane and Zoe running towards us with one of those beasts racing close behind as Jack slammed the door at his back.

46

Andrew hadn't caught what I'd seen. He was too busy scrabbling from the floor and racing to my side at the back door. Pushing. Heaving. Kicking at the woman’s foot. Peeling fingers from their hold until the latch clicked into place.

With the back door secure, pain ripped across my chest, the cracked ribs only a part of my state. My muscles took a breath for the first time in what seemed like hours, but I couldn't relax, I couldn't take time and rushed past Jack, grabbing the pistol from his hand. The front door was back open in one swift swing, surprising the creatures from where they'd