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

disapproval of drugs bothers me. It shouldn’t, not when I’m sealed in a room with a zombie.
    But it does.
    There’s got to be something wrong with me.
     
    * * *
     
    It’s almost midnight. The only light in the room is coming from the moon and a faint glow from behind the bar. I can’t quite believe we’re still in here, still alive—and stuck with a tied up Nec. Can’t stand looking at him; it’s those eyes, they’re so disturbing, like a creepy doll staring back at you from a dusty shelf.
    The phones and the Internet are still down. They’re definitely keeping us cut off from the outside world. I’ve sent countless text messages to Wendy, but they always fail. I don’t even know if she got the first one I sent. I hope she did. Even if I don’t get one back; at least she’ll know that I’m safe.
    When the hell are they coming for us? Nothing’s changed since we got in here, apart from the growing number of Necs roaming around the stand and pitch. It’s only a matter of time before they come bursting through that door. Four people and a sofa can’t keep them out forever.
    Curtis and Natalie are fast asleep on the floor, against the wall. Adriana is lying across the spectator seats. I think she’s sleeping; it’s hard to tell. Gaping at her degenerating husband must have got a little too difficult. I haven’t heard her cry for maybe an hour. That’s something at least. And I haven’t seen Jonny since he disappeared behind the bar. Well, I can see his feet poking out from the side. Maybe he’s crying for his brother. He needs to get it out of his system. Or maybe he’s just sleeping off all that booze. Not likely, not after he took my coke from me. He’ll probably be up for the next day or two. That’s nothing to him. Just a standard weekend.
    The room seems empty without Ginge. I miss him so much already. It hasn’t fully sunk in yet that I’ll never see that face again, never laugh at one of his sick jokes. I want to get out of this place, but without him, without a place to live, a decent job, what’s out there for me anyway? It’s too late to get my life together now. College maybe? No, I’ve got to keep working, especially when I’ll be living on my own. And what the hell would I study? There’s no hope for a dumbass like me. Wendy says that everyone has a talent, no matter how stupid they think they are. I suppose she’s right, but what if your talent is arm-wrestling, or jerking off? Can’t see there being much of a demand for either skill. The only thing I’ve ever been really good at is running, but even that’s not something I could turn into a proper job.
    Life sucks.
    I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes. Maybe if I sleep long enough, this will all be over.
    In the darkness, I feel someone sit next to me. Who the hell could this be? Surely not Jonny . I open my eyes to find Natalie beside me. A warm feeling of relief spreads over me when I see those pretty eyes. Through everything that’s happened, all the death, all the insanity, I’m glad she’s in here with me.
    “Can’t sleep?” I ask her.
    She shakes her head. “ Nope . Too afraid Ted might escape.”
    “He seems pretty quiet over there. I think loud noise agitates them. As long as we keep our voices down, we should be okay.”
    “I hope you’re right.”
    “What about Curtis?” I glance over to see him snoring away. “He looks pretty cosy over there. Nothing seems to bother him.”
    “Don’t let that fool you,” Natalie says. “He’s just as stressed as the rest of us. He just doesn’t show it. When our Grandfather died last Valentine’s Day, he slept like a baby—and no one was more upset than he was.”
    “Yeah, I understand. We all deal with things differently.”
    “Exactly. I mean, he almost got killed downstairs. If you hadn’t come, then…” She starts to tear up a little, trying to hide it with her hand.
    “But I did come, Natalie. And he’s safe now. We all are. Your