In The End Box Set | Books 1-3 Stevens, GJ (story books to read TXT) 📖
Book online «In The End Box Set | Books 1-3 Stevens, GJ (story books to read TXT) 📖». Author Stevens, GJ
“The boy's gone.”
75
LOGAN
Cassie and I counted five, but every moment we waited in the Land Rover their number added, each wandering in and out of the house like they owned the place.
One thing was for sure; there was no frantic activity. Whatever had happened was hours ago.
“Where now?” McCole asked.
“Nowhere,” I said, turning to Cassie as I held her hands between the two compartments. “We have to check inside. They could be hiding somewhere, scared to come out.” I kept looking to Cassie, not letting her lose hope.
She nodded, widening her eyes.
McCole didn't complain. With his pale skin and laboured breath, he was in no position.
I drove slowly, the cold wind still blowing through my missing pane. I kept the sealed-up window of the passenger side between me and those things as we rolled past the house to get a better look, hoping to draw out any more lingering to trap our friends.
We counted eight, which took up to follow and snaked around the corners as I kept our pace slow, with Cassie watching out the back.
My gaze fixed ahead, waiting to race off from any launched side-on attack we had no hope of defending against.
Driving as far as we could stomach, Cassie heaved open the back door and, mentored by McCole, spent a full magazine, despatching the tail in our wake.
This time, at speed, we were back outside the house with a tire iron and a small shovel in our hands, not wanting to draw them near with the thunder of guns.
We left McCole with the engine running, his pistol aimed through the back window.
The house was quiet inside but the smell was anything but. It reeked with the same stink I never wanted to get used to, the forewarning stench which in this new world could mean only one thing.
The hallway was littered with bodies. Cassie peered down close to my shoulder, trying to get as much information as we could to be sure it wasn't one of our friends, her family, laying with their heads bashed in.
We stepped over three bodies, their blood thick and long congealed. We found fresh blood, too, from someone who'd been defending themselves. It was their trail we followed, their handprints up along the walls, heading to the kitchen.
The trail stopped among the scattered contents of the kitchen cabinets littering the floor. The fridge was upended and barred the shallow larder cupboard, which I'd earlier found empty of anything of use.
I paused, looking on at the wooden door and heard something behind the wood, realising why the fridge was in front.
Looking up as movement creaked on the boards above, my finger rushed to my lips as I took my place in front of Cassie. Together we scanned the dining room to find everything as we left it, our meagre supplies still in the centre of the table, untouched; they'd had no time to collect them up before leaving, or before…
I stopped myself from thinking any further.
Movement above again cut my search short. The small bathroom was empty, despite the splash of blood up the door. The living room window was still barred and the light blocked by the great wall unit. Naomi's discarded, blooded bandages were still on the floor and the pieces of the puzzle locked into place. The floorboards creaked directly above.
Each step groaned with my weight, my head upturned as I summited the stairs. Dark patches stained the floral carpet; they weren't there when we left that morning.
The door to the bedroom where Zoe had been so protective of Naomi was closed. The master bedroom where I'd changed was open. It was the room where Cassie and I had made our connection.
There was no one waiting to attack, the bed almost fresh.
Cassie didn't follow. She was in the kid's bedroom and her tears were easy to hear, but, when I arrived, the room was empty and the covers thrown to the side.
The bathroom door was left wide, the sink stained pink, but otherwise there was no sign. It left only the one door unopened. The one room where we knew danger lurked.
All was not as I'd expected. Naomi was there but it was just her body standing, eyes white and sunken in her sockets. A quick look around the room told me Zoe had not been taken, hadn't suffered the same fate.
I did the deed. Saying goodnight, I caught her body and laid her to rest before covering her with a sheet from the bed.
It felt so wrong leaving the house. Felt like I was abandoning them, like I was leaving my last connection to my friends.
Where had they gone? The question rattled around my head as we rolled along.
Cassie was unable to add anything to my self-questioning, despite my assurances they'd got out alive.
She couldn't take her gaze from the rear door of the Land Rover as we rumbled along the road and out of sight.
76
ZOE
Andrew and Lane left me alone with the two girls. Me, the least maternal person in the world, except after Naomi, of course, but I guess she couldn't be counted anymore.
Andrew and Lane had left by the back door, jumping over the fence after we'd overhauled the room where the other two had slept; where the other two were still unaware I was left in charge with Naomi.
It was Lane who'd seen the door open, who'd smelt the outside world drifting in and slammed it shut to run around the house, counting everyone; upstairs, downstairs, only calling out as the number hadn't added up.
There were two of us missing; the boy and the dog. Nothing gone but a thick coat. The men of the house
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