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

Bang. Bang. The gun sang. Two shots and one either side were down.

A black shadow raced past my side and I caught sight of the dog, choosing his new name in an instant. He was racing towards the pair I'd stepped out of safety to rescue, or at least give a chance of life as it was meant to be.

Bang. Bang. Another two down and Andrew was out with the iron upturned in his hand, water spilling across his path.

Thump, went the corner of the metal across a grey face. Down went the creature and with another solid pound it stopped dead. Again.

Bang. I sent a shot across his front, forcing another sprawling to the ground. Thump went the iron and I shot after. We'd taken six or seven out, three sprawled to the floor, but more were coming from each side of the building.

I heard Shadow's muffled growl and knew without looking he'd latched on. I turned and saw Zoe and Lane were close, running towards the open door.

The creature was down, Shadow gripping tight to his leg. He'd forced it to the ground and now it’s full attention was on the dog.

I ran after, not wanting to chance a shot. Andrew called me away, the thump of the metal resounding again. As I grew closer, Shadow winced, squealing; a clawed hand dug deep in his chest.

“Shadow,” I said, calling his new name and smiled as he released, running in my direction.

Bang went a shot, and then another. The body did what nature had once meant it should.

I turned and ran alongside the dog, taking two more shots before slamming the door.

My back slid down the wood. Batteries flat. Energy expired.

There was much back-slapping and hugs all around. After checking below the fur on Shadow’s side, with relief finding his skin intact, I climbed to my feet by the time it had all turned to tears.

Naomi was still alive but following the same story as Chloe had already written. I couldn't take part; I was zapped. Emotions drained. I had to get her blood from my chest and I took the steps one by one, slow and steady, leaving the sobbing behind.

It was Zoe's heartfelt cry I had to shut out. I couldn't hear more pain; there was no more room inside my head.

Water came from the tap, the tank in the loft not yet empty. I washed as best I could, sparing as much as I was able.

Drying myself, I went from room to room, hearing downstairs had calmed. There were three bedrooms. Three people had lived here. Parents and a child. The dad had been, could still be, my size and I was warm again, at least across my body.

Sitting on the edge of the bed in the largest room, I listened to the slow steps while I counted each of the ten remaining rounds.

Cassie appeared at the door, her hands bloodied and buried in a rag. She looked like me; exhausted with it all.

“There's water left in the tank,” I said, my voice monotone.

She nodded and drifted away.

I still sat in the same place, my gaze not having moved from the door since she’d left.

She was back, her coat off, shirt sleeves rolled up, but still I could see the bloodied ends. Without speaking, she sat right beside me, my body tipping towards her as the mattress took her weight.

We leaned in and she turned. I followed, our eyes catching. Our lips headed together. They were so warm. Fresh. Her arms, too, as they pulled around my body.

Mine found hers and, as if recharged, we delved into each other's mouths like nothing else mattered.

She pulled my hands to her back when a powerful thud shook the building. Glass falling to the ground.

Screams called upward and I pulled away; both our mouths in a thin smile. I reached for the gun and, one after the other, we ran down the stairs.

47

Gasps sang through the air as seven sets of eyes stared at the small side pane of the front room window. Shadow shouted a warning, snapping off a bark as I arrived.

The outer layer had cracked, a head-sized section missing; the glass lost between the panes.

With no obvious cause, I turned to the staring faces, my gaze shooting back as a head climbed from below the window line.

Something, once someone, rose unsteady above the sill. He'd been an older man, his hair blond and straw-like, his skin leathery and weathered. He wore a thick checked shirt with a line running across his forehead where a hat had recently been. Just below the line was an indentation, a break in the skin, but no blood poured out. There was no heart pumping.

Heads turned as I'd arrived, then to Cassie as she followed just after. I couldn't help but steal a glance as her slender hands delved, pushing away her shirt tails. With my cheeks heating, I checked their expressions. I was sure they hadn't noticed.

Zoe's eyes were red and wet with tears as she knelt beside the sofa, her hands wrapping Naomi's pale fingers.

For the first time, I noticed the Christmas tree in the corner and was transported to my parents’ house only the week before. It was Christmas morning, the first time I woke there in ten years, the tree resplendent with brightly-coloured parcels bulging from underneath. Here it would be Christmas till this was all over. Decorations around the South West would be up until someone sorted this shit out.

  No one spoke as Cassie led the children away and, together with Lane and Andrew, we manoeuvred the wall-length dresser across the window.

With cupboards scoured for anything of use and Zoe still holding her hand, we moved Naomi and the sofa, pushing it across the cupboard to stop it