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

along and so was I, apparently. I did what I was told, stayed at the back of the two cars while Damien was posted at the front and we watched, waited; me with an iron bar I'd been handed, Damien with a baseball bat.

I didn't know my role until I spotted someone coming up the road, their walk so much like the woman who'd been killed whilst on top of me, as were the five others following behind.

My muscles froze, giving the same reaction as before. A tension gripped my chest and my limbs locked up. I could barely muster the words to call Damien, my voice high and feminine when I eventually did.

I watched on, managing only to move well back while Damien called for the others. They exploded out, bombarding each of the things my head couldn't give a name. They barely had time to fight back under the unflinching onslaught. All I could do was lose whatever I had left in my stomach on the side of the road as one by one they passed me, looking down their noses, my eyes to the ground.

And so it went on for the next two days. I'd watch as they'd go around the houses, smashing down the doors, pulling out everything which once had a value. Most times I would just have to stand there; every so often I would call and have Damien take care of those we happened upon. I tried once more to build myself up, to take control, but my body wouldn't let me, even though it had become obvious those things weren't recognisable as human. I was barely of use, no more than a lookout and it was how I was treated.

In the evening, before darkness took over, we'd head back to a warehouse on a tiny industrial estate. All the buildings were abandoned, like everywhere else. There we'd pile up what we'd found; cash, electronics and food. They’d start a fire; burning pallets soaked in petrol for warmth and we were each handed our share of the spoils.

I was given the smallest share, barely a portion, but I didn't complain. I knew there was no one to come along and help if they kicked my ass and left me for dead.

The next morning, I woke up determined to change my situation. Fixed on getting past my fear, I was intent on getting respect.

We started the day like the previous. It was a small group of houses, but we didn't get any visitors. With each downward look from the others, my resolve increased. I wanted to be treated as an equal and the only way was to ditch whatever was stopping me from killing these creatures.

The second set of houses proved more promising. Not long after we'd arrived I saw one of those creatures heading towards Damien's end; a farmer it looked like from how he'd dressed.

Damien dealt with it. I followed up behind as I saw another, but my chance had gone. He'd despatched him before I got near.

I followed him to the garden and spotted the inside of the house, a glitzy, modern style full of loot. My mum would have gone mad; she hated anything but the traditional.

Damien seemed pleased when I pointed it out and let me break in, allowing me to tag along to gut the place and letting me talk now we were alone.

About to finish and being called back to the road, I opened a cupboard door and there stood one of the creatures. It launched an attack, knocking me to the ground, rushing past me and going for Damien.

I hadn't frozen. I knew this was my chance, but another launched out, blindsiding me.

Shaking off the blow, I saw her on Damien. She was easy to deal with and I pushed her to the side. It was my turn to save him, to get even.

Snatching the crowbar from the nasty wound in Damien's neck, he fell on top of the creature who'd attacked me. This was the moment I would prove my worth.

61

LOGAN

“Noooo,” I screamed, with the short guy’s gaze intent on mine, the word coming slow as adrenaline pushed my senses to the limit for what I knew could be the last time.

I watched his eyes change shape, saw them widen; a light blinking on behind. The crowbar still swung but veered off to the side and I felt the pressure on my chest as it crashed down on the slumped, shiny smooth head of the man already dead.

In his eyes I saw the confusion, saw his battle; saw Cassie rise high, my screwdriver in her hand and watched as he noticed her, but not until it was too late, the tip of the driver plunging past his eye, buckling his legs. His arms fell moments after, the crowbar clattering to the floor alongside his body.

I tried scrabbling up, tried pushing the dead weight from my chest. It had only been moments, but the smell already caught in my lungs; flesh putrefying.

Cassie stood, her mouth agape and breath panting hard, blood rolling down the side of her face. She turned, saw my struggle and helped me pull the body by the arm.

I saw the moment she caught the fetid smell; her nose turned up, expression hardened. The body was off and I knelt to the bed, wiping my face of blood on the once-pristine covers. Turning as I climbed to my feet, I saw the end of the crowbar diving deep through the skinhead's eye socket as Cassie let go.

A second booming gunshot rattled the house; a shotgun, I was sure, as we caught each other's glances before running to the window.

From our new vantage point, we watched the older of the looters staggering backwards along the path from the cottage we'd last seen his group attacking. Behind him,