The Zombie Saga (Book 2): Burn The Dead (Purge) by Jenkins Steven

Author:Jenkins, Steven [Jenkins, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Zombies
Publisher: Different Cloud Publishing
Published: 2015-09-23T04:00:00+00:00

13

As the name suggests, The Mount is a steep street with a row of terrace houses on each side. It stretches up further than my eyes can register, so I’m guessing that there must be over a hundred in total. We’re gonna need a bigger van. To the left of the junction is a primary school—the gates have been padlocked and there are no obvious signs of life through the windows. Thank God.

Climbing out of the van, gun gripped tightly, helmet on, we make our way to the first house.

“How should we do this?” I ask Andrew. “One side at a time?”

“No. We zigzag. It’s easier.” He points his gun to the first door. “Okay, Cath, we stay methodical—start with number one. But more importantly, we stay together. Don’t make a move unless I say so, or you have no other choice. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” I say with haste.

Leading the way, Andrew rings the doorbell. There’s no response. He pushes the button again, along with a few hard knocks. Still nothing.

“Maybe they’re at work,” I suggest. “It’s still early.”

“Might be.” He tries the handle. It’s locked. He crouches down, lifts up the letterbox flap, and shouts: “Hello. Is there anybody in? It’s Disease Control. We’re here to help.” He listens out but hears no response. “Check the window, Cath.”

Knocking on the window, I push my head close to the glass, but my helmet prevents me from going any nearer. I almost pull the horrid thing off but don’t, to avoid a telling off from Andrew. “Can’t see any movement. Don’t think anyone’s home.”

“Okay, next house,” he says, letting go of the letterbox flap. “There’s no one here. And if there is, then they’re safe enough.”

“What if there’re Necs inside?” I ask. “Shouldn’t we check?”

“No. The place is clear.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because they’d be beating down that door by now. The doorbell would have driven them out.”

“Oh, yeah. Good point.”

“Come on,” Andrew says, “let’s just keep moving. It’ll be dark before we know it.”

The next house is the same. Deserted. And the next. I’m beginning to think that everyone is at work, or the Cleaner has asked us to sweep a street that has already been swept.

Andrew slams the side of his fist hard into the door several times before we hear footsteps racing to answer it. A middle-aged woman opens the door, her face a mask of panic. “Who the hell are you?” she says. “You better be the police. I’ve called them three times.”

“Madam, we’re not the police,” Andrew replies, with conviction in his voice. “This whole area’s been quarantined.”

“Oh my God,” she says, bringing her hand up to her mouth as she gasps. “Why? What’s happened?”

“There’s been an outbreak of Necro-Morbus in Crandale. So we need to check if your home is secure.”

“But what about the police? And what about those people?”

“What people?”

“The people I called the police about. Trying to break down my back door.”

“Is there anyone else in there with you? Husband, kids, friends?”

“No, just me,” she replies, shaking her head.

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