Gen Z Boxed Set by Baileigh Higgins

Author:Baileigh Higgins [Higgins, Baileigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2019-10-18T06:00:00+00:00

Epilogue

The next morning, Chas woke up to a sense of overwhelming loss. Instantly, the previous night rushed back, and she crumpled into a tiny ball of misery once more, tears leaking from her eyes as she relived Johnson’s death.

For perhaps an hour, Chas mourned the loss of her friend before the urge to move got her going at last. She pushed herself upright on her bed, rubbing her swollen eyes. It didn’t take long to realize she was alone in the tent and peered at her watch. It was past eleven already.

She stood up, noting that she still wore her jumpsuit and boots, having fallen asleep fully clothed. Stumbling outside, she noted that it seemed like the mountain was a hive of activity with people coming and going all over the show.

She spotted Emily in the distance and hurried over. “Em? What’s going on?”

“Hey, Chas. How are you feeling?”

Chas waved the question away with a frown. “Just answer my question, please.”

“Well, since last night’s attack, the zombies just seem to keep coming,” Emily said.

“What do you mean, they keep coming?” Chas asked.

“Exactly what I said. They’re streaming in for miles. It’s as if they know there’s food here. They’re thronging against the barrier, and Galway is scared it won’t hold.”

“Won’t hold?” Chas said with a gasp, horrified at the thought of the infected breaking in. “We’d be sitting ducks.”

“Exactly, so they’re all busy shoring up our defenses, making the wall both higher and thicker with whatever they can get their hands on. They’re even chiseling boulders out of the mountain.”

“I want to see, Emily,” Chas said.

“Don’t you want to bath first? You look terrible,” Emily said. “The zombies can wait a few minutes, can’t they?”

“Fine,” Chas grumbled, making her way to the ablution block where she was allowed a two minute cold shower with a tiny sliver of soap and no shampoo. Even so, she felt refreshed.

Back at the tent, she kicked her grimy jumpsuit and boots into the corner with a frown and pulled on her old clothes for the first time in weeks. It felt good to be dressed normally again, and the jeans and sneakers prompted a small smile on her lips.

She still wore her knife and gun, though. Teen, she might be, but she was a fighter too, and nothing would change that. Running her fingers over the holster Johnson had given her, Chas allowed her grief a final moment in the sun. “I’ll miss you, Johnson, and your imaginary hat.”

With a sniff, she pushed the emotions aside and let anger take the place of grief. Anger for the stupid zombies who’d killed so many people. Anger at whoever created the zombies in the first place, and absolute rage at Major Brown who’d abandoned them all to a fate worse than death. It was his fault Johnson was dead.

Stepping out into the bright afternoon sun, Chas strode toward the barricade with a determined step. As she walked, she repeated one sentence over and over again. “Major Brown will pay for what he’s done even if it’s the last thing I do.

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