Chloe Zombie Apocalypse series (Book 1): Chloe by Ryan Casey Page A

stabbing through its decaying insides and spilling the contents down on to Chloë. Some of the monsters were dead—again. They’d accidentally stabbed their heads on the spikes.
    But not enough.
    Not enough had stabbed themselves.
    And there were still too many to deal with.
    Chloë thought about her dad. She thought about his diary. The way it’d just ended. The way he’d worried about her. Cared about her.
    Then she thought about Aiden. Aiden and Alice and Trev.
    She thought about them and she wished they were here right now.
    Here to help her.
    But they weren’t.
    Nobody was here because that’s how she’d made it.
    That’s the life she’d forced herself to live.
    That’s—
    Gunfire echoed through the trees.
    It took Chloë a few seconds to place it. To figure out which direction it came from. Didn’t help that the cage was completely covered in monsters.
    She looked around. Heard the groans die down. Saw disinterest building in the already-detached eyes of the monsters.
    And then she heard another gunshot.
    And another.
    It was only when Chloë felt the blood splatter down onto her in thicker droves that she realised somebody was shooting at the monsters.
    She watched the monsters struggle. Watched their attempts to pull themselves free of the spikes. All the while, the gunfire grew louder. More rapid. And … yes. From multiple directions. Not just one gun. Which meant not just one person.
    Somebody was here for her.
    Somebody was here to help her.
    She stabbed at a few of the monsters still clinging on to the cage. Split the knife through their weakened skulls. Fed the blade into the backs of their throat.
    The gunfire continued.
    The shower of rancid blood kept on falling onto her.
    Someone was here for her.
    Here to help her.
    Here to get her out of here.
    When light seeped through the openings of the cage, Chloë thought about opening her mouth. About shouting. Letting whoever it was know she was in here. She needed help.
    Yes. That’s what she needed to accept. She was trapped and she needed help.
    She couldn’t do this on her own.
    But as she opened her mouth, as the words started to sneak out, she remembered something.
    CoY.
    The symbol etched into the trees.
    The same symbol etched into the chests of the people who’d tortured and burned Barry alive.
    CoY.
    The same symbol drawn in the dirt outside the cave entrance.
    She heard footsteps getting closer. Heard muffled voices. And a part of her wanted to believe that this was okay. That these people really were here to help her, to set her free.
    But something wasn’t right.
    Something didn’t feel right.
    Chloë gripped the knife. Blood from the monsters dripped down into the cage, bathing her. Phlegm built up at the back of her throat. She had to focus. Had to be on her guard.
    She had to do what she had to do.
    One of the monsters tumbled away from the cage to her left.
    And then another to her right.
    She saw them falling. Saw them falling away, one by one.
    And she knew what was happening.
    The people. The people who’d killed them.
    They were pulling them away.
    They were here for her.
    A face pressed up to the cage. Curly brown hair just long enough to cover the man’s ears. A long beard. A thin face that looked pale and hungry. Very hungry.
    Bloodshot eyes.
    He stared at Chloë. His eyelids twitched as he scanned her body. Chloë could smell the sourness on his breath. Mixed with the icy blood and opened insides of the bloated monsters, the offal that filled the cage, it was enough to bring her to the point of heaving.
    And then she saw the others.
    Saw the other men in the background.
    Guns in their hands.
    All of them in dirty, torn clothes.
    All of them gaunt.
    All of them looking at her.
    “It’s alright, m’love,” the man opposite her said. He reached for the bottom of the cage. Winced as he lifted it. “We’re here to get you outta there. Don’t have to worry about a thing no more.”
    An opening appeared at the foot of the