The Zombie Saga (Book 3): Burn The Dead: Riot by Jenkins Steven

Author:Jenkins, Steven [Jenkins, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Zombies
Publisher: Different Cloud Publishing
Published: 2016-02-29T05:00:00+00:00

14

Why is it always me who has to lead the bloody way? Why can’t it be Ginge? He’s supposed to be the cocky one. And he’s bigger than me.

The door locks behind us as we step out onto the deserted corridor. I feel so exposed out here, and with the door shut, it makes things a hundred times worse. We start to creep along the red carpet, in the opposite direction from when we first came. Ginge has a hand on my shoulder, like a blind man following a guide. We can’t see any Necs. Can’t hear any screams or moans, just the gentle hum of machinery in the distance. Maybe it’s coming from the kitchen. There has to be one close by. That buffet came from somewhere.

We pass four other VIP rooms, all with the doors closed. I can’t resist stopping outside one of them to listen for movement. I still can’t hear anything. Maybe no one booked it; I bet they ain’t bloody cheap. Must be hundreds—thousands, probably. No, someone would have booked it, especially for a game like today’s. I picture a similar set up of people like ours; holed up inside, arguing about whether to sit tight or wait for help.

“Come on,” Ginge whispers, prodding me with the bottle. “We haven’t got time for this. Keep moving.”

He’s right. All it would take is for one Nec to show up. We’re not exactly trained in silent combat. Enough noise will bring out the whole lot of them.

Another few metres down, we come to a room with a Staff Only sign on the door. We scan each end of the corridor; it’s still clear. Can’t hear any sounds coming from the room, so I grab the handle and twist it. I push the door open and then we step back, ready to face a storm of rotters charging at us. But the room is empty. And it is the kitchen. Maybe our luck is finally turning.

We enter the room, giving it a quick inspection in case any hidden surprises are lurking behind the equipment. Ginge closes the door quietly and walks over to the large window directly opposite. Despite the fact that this caters for VIP guests, the kitchen looks pretty standard: shiny steel worktops and sinks, lots of cupboards fixed to the walls, and a door to the left, most likely leading to a walk-in fridge and freezer.

At the window, we peer down onto the car park. I frown in confusion when I see that it’s deserted. No police, no firemen, and definitely no Cleaners.

What the fuck is going on?

“Where is everyone?” Ginge asks, his face pressed tightly against the glass, probing the entire outside area. “I thought there’d be a TV news crew, police cars. The works.”

“I don’t know. The police must have sealed off the stadium even further back.”

Ginge hands me his bottle of whiskey and then unlocks the window. It opens like a door but only halfway out. Holding onto the frame for support, he pokes his head outside.

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