Dead Days: Season 3 (Books 13-18) by Ryan Casey Page B

smile.
    “You look like shit,” Tamara said.
    Barry walked up to Pedro and put a hand around his back, supporting him as he pulled him up.
    Pedro didn’t say anything as they staggered off the motorway and into the grassy embankment.
    He just smiled.
    Mighta looked like shit, mighta been in the shit, but he hadn’t felt this good in days.

Chapter Five: Chloë
    It was still dark when Chloë got to the metal building with Warburtons written on the side, but the sky was getting a little bit lighter and the birds were chirping so she knew morning had to be close.
    She was so tired when she got to the bottom of the road. So tired and so cold. Being in Peter and Angela’s house with the nice juicy squirrel stew felt like forever ago, or like it didn’t happen, or like it happened but in a dream.
    But now she’d got to the bottom of the road. She was at the big Warburtons building. There were vans parked outside. White vans with Warburtons written on them too, four that Chloë could see. Maybe the people here were okay. Maybe her dad was here. He did work for Warburtons all around the country. She’d forgotten where Mum said he was when the monsters started coming, but maybe someone here would know who he was. They had to.
    She got closer to the metal building, the concrete hard underneath her feet and starting to rub her toes. She could see a door just up ahead. A small black door on the side of the building. That must be the way the man and the woman went in with the deer.
    She walked towards this door. She still felt bad for the deer. But maybe the people were just hungry and wanted something to eat. Like when Chloë was on the boat, they’d been catching fish to eat, and really fish were no different from deer. She just felt so sad for the deer because it could’ve been her friend. Her friend for Christmas.
    But now maybe she would have people for friends. People to open presents with, to enjoy Christmas with.
    She stepped up close to the door and wondered what to do. Should she knock? She looked at her hands. The gun. She should probably keep the gun in her pocket. If they saw she had a gun, they might get scared and shoot her like they shot the deer.
    She slipped the gun into the back of her trousers and lifted her fist to knock on the door.
    When her knuckles hit the rough surface of the door, something funny happened‌—‌it just swung open. Chloë thought this was weird because there was no way Riley or Mike or anyone would’ve kept a door wide open, so why would anyone else? Leaving doors open meant the monsters could get in easily, and nobody wanted the monsters to get in easily.
    She held her breath. Took a few slow steps into the darkness of the corridor beyond the door.
    It was pitch black in here. Even pitcher black than outside. And it smelled funny, too. Smelled like when her sister weed the bed. And when she was sick, too. It smelled bad. Bad enough that it gave Chloë’s tummy the tingles. She should turn around. Get out of here. Try another door.
    When she went to turn around, she heard something up ahead in the darkness. Like a mumbling or a crying, but like it was behind in a pillow and not out loud.
    She looked back over her shoulder. Tried to squint into the dark, but she couldn’t see anything. All she could hear was this mumbling. This weird little crying.
    She grabbed her gun. Even though she had no bullets, guns were scary, and she had to be scary now. She held it up. Pointed it into the darkness where the noise was coming from. Stepped slowly across the hard floor, getting further and further into the dark corridor.
    The mumbling got closer. She could hear shaking too. Shaking and mumbling and…‌
    She stopped. She was squinting as hard as she could, and she could see it now.
    There was a person. A person was making the noise. A person sitting on the floor up against the wall.
    Chloë pointed the gun at the person. She wanted to ask them who they were and what they were doing here, but