Dead Days: Season 3 (Books 13-18) Read Free Page A

zombies, so who was to say they didn’t have different turning rates?
    Maybe a kid could last a while after the initial trauma.
    He gulped. Gulped and shivered, the cold air biting at his cheeks.
    Sam had lasted a while.
    Panting, behind him. Closing in, to his left.
    He looked around and saw Chris jogging in his direction. He was holding a large metal spanner, wearing a red Nike hat, black Thinsulate gloves. The only part of his skin exposed was his face, his cheeks rosy. It had been fucking freezing since the first snow had fallen. And sure‌—‌it had only fallen a little, but a little was enough for now. Pedro dreaded to think how he’d cope if any more snow fell.
    He didn’t like snow at the best of times.
    “So the motorway plan sounds good to you?” Chris said, catching his breath as he caught up to Pedro’s frantic pace.
    Pedro shrugged. Smiled. “Doesn’t look like I’ve got an option, bud.”
    He looked over his shoulder. Looked at bald Barry, standing separate from blonde-haired Tamara, who held the hand of her skinny, dark-haired son, Josh. Josh peered at Pedro. Peered at him with his little eyes that looked at him like he’d done something wrong. Pedro felt a knotting in his gut. He was a good kid. A good kid who’d been forced into a fucking horrible situation.
    But he was a bitten kid. And that made him something different.
    “Barry’s right about the motorway,” Chris said, clouds of breath frosting up ahead of him. “It was a dangerous place at first. One of the most dangerous. But it’s weeks since the spread started. The zombies get hungry, just like us. They move on.”
    Pedro bit his lip. Powered forward, his body freezing, as the cars got thicker and thicker. “Like I said, don’t really have much of a choice.”
    “What scares you so much about Josh?”
    The question took Pedro by surprise. He glanced at Chris, who was half-smiling. It was direct. To the point. Shit, he had to respect the man for being up front, not like some of the bullshitters he’d had the pleasure of dealing with since the start of the fall.
    “What scares me is that he’s bit,” Pedro said. “Ain’t no comin’ back from that, y’know.”
    “And what if there is?” Chris said, latching right on to Pedro’s statement. “Because I was there. I was there holding Tamara back as the zombies took her son. I was there when they stuck their teeth into his flesh. And I was there as he came running away from them, running towards us, holes in his arm and flowing with blood. I told Tamara when we left. Told her what it all meant, and she‌—‌she struggled, as you’d expect a mother to struggle. But anyway, we cleaned him up. Cleaned up his wound. Barry stayed awake the first night with Josh, in case…‌You know. I stayed awake the next night. Tamara stayed awake all the time.
    “And then something just‌—‌just happened. His skin started going less pale. Colour came back to his cheeks, things like that. And then all of a sudden he was eating again. He wasn’t spewing up, sweating all the time. And we‌—‌we still weren’t sure, but well. It’s two weeks since he was bitten, and to me, he looks alright. What about you?”
    Pedro gulped down the lump in his throat. He looked back at Josh, who was wading through the thin layer of snow on the road. Wading with confidence, not with injury. If not for the bandage on his arm, for the blue coat covering that bandage, he was a normal kid. Not a goon.
    “I just don’t get my hopes up,” Pedro said. “Seen enough bullshit the last few weeks to know better.”
    “You strike me as a man who’s seen enough bullshit in a lifetime to know better,” Chris said. A slight smile tugged at his cheeks.
    Pedro knew Chris was probably right, but he wasn’t giving him the dignity of a reply.
    “So the motorway,” Chris said. “We head down it for fifty miles, shelter on the way when we can, divert if we have to. Leads us straight into the heart of