Read Online Dead Eyes: A Tale From The Zombie Plague by James Dwyer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Dwyer
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turf from the storm the previous night. The rain had long passed, replaced by a cool breeze that pulled at your clothes to reach inside and steal from the warm centre. I pulled my coat tightly round me and made my way to the back gate.
The deadbolt lock on the gate was padlocked shut, with no sign of a key nearby. I looked up at the top of the wall, checking for any broken glass or ceramics to dissuade intruders. It was clear. Climbing would be the quickest option.
I jumped up and grabbed at the red brick, pulling myself up onto the still wet wall. My hands dug into the brickwork, red dust and painful impressions stained my hand as I righted myself atop the wall. From my perch, I could see movement in some of the gardens.
I lowered myself down to the ground, feet splashing on the wet brickwork. As soon as I had dropped, the shriek came out from behind me. I turned and saw the Daisy running towards me. How had I not spotted it before?
The creature shrieked again, closing on my position fast. It was once a young woman, loose strands of long blond hair and a tattered blue dress trailing behind her as it sprinted towards me. I turned and started running. Immediately I felt pain in my right heel. I had landed more heavily than I thought, the pain in my foot growing stronger each second.
The Daisy closed in fast, bare feet splashing through puddles, eyes wildly staring at me. There was no chance of me running away.
I reached for my pistol and turned, taking aim, holding off from firing until the last moment. I couldn’t afford to miss.
The Daisy paid no attention to my weapon, its head down charging at me. Driven by the hunger. Driven to destruction.
My hand was shaking, the fear inside my chest twisting and pulling at my nerves, trying to make me turn and run. To flee, get away, not understanding the weapon in my hand or the futility of escape. Primal urges just screaming inside “Get the fuck out of there!”
The gunshot echoed loudly round the back alley. Its sound was quickly followed by the moans of nearby zombies, attracted to the sounds of conflict.
The Daisy collapsed to the floor, the hole a perfect circle in the centre of its forehead. I had hit the target.
As the un-life left the zombie’s body, small white hairs started sprouting all across its skin, the largest clump emerging from the hole in its head. This small flicker of life made me feel extremely uneasy. The Daisy was dead. It had to be dead.
I tucked the gun back into my trousers and ran for the exit of the alley, limping as fast as I could. The barrel of the pistol felt painfully hot against my body.
Only four bullets left.
I left the alleyway, Moaners and Scratchers closing in on my position. Ignoring the pain in my foot, I began jogging my way back to the main road out of town. I was sick of Aylescombe. Time for me to get out of there.
✖
Finally I saw some good luck come my way. My shelter for the night was only half a mile from the edge of town and it wasn’t long before I was crossing the ring road and heading back into the safety of the countryside.
Leaving Aylescombe behind filled me with a great sense of relief. Sooner I was away, sooner I could forget about Dottie and the woman in the department store. No matter what happened, I would never come back to this place. This town was dead to me in more than just the walking way.
My eagerness to escape spurred me forward, the pain in my heel becoming nothing more than a minor nuisance. As soon as Aylescombe was out of sight, I stopped to check my map and check how far I was away from Camp Churchill.
Two miles.
I quickly folded the map and pressed on, not quite believing how close I was to safety. To people. Living people.
The path to Camp Churchill was a long country road through abandoned farmland. No one tended these fields anymore. Just a wide expanse of soil, the first shoots of defiant weeds breaking through the earth.
I remembered growing up and driving past farmland
The deadbolt lock on the gate was padlocked shut, with no sign of a key nearby. I looked up at the top of the wall, checking for any broken glass or ceramics to dissuade intruders. It was clear. Climbing would be the quickest option.
I jumped up and grabbed at the red brick, pulling myself up onto the still wet wall. My hands dug into the brickwork, red dust and painful impressions stained my hand as I righted myself atop the wall. From my perch, I could see movement in some of the gardens.
I lowered myself down to the ground, feet splashing on the wet brickwork. As soon as I had dropped, the shriek came out from behind me. I turned and saw the Daisy running towards me. How had I not spotted it before?
The creature shrieked again, closing on my position fast. It was once a young woman, loose strands of long blond hair and a tattered blue dress trailing behind her as it sprinted towards me. I turned and started running. Immediately I felt pain in my right heel. I had landed more heavily than I thought, the pain in my foot growing stronger each second.
The Daisy closed in fast, bare feet splashing through puddles, eyes wildly staring at me. There was no chance of me running away.
I reached for my pistol and turned, taking aim, holding off from firing until the last moment. I couldn’t afford to miss.
The Daisy paid no attention to my weapon, its head down charging at me. Driven by the hunger. Driven to destruction.
My hand was shaking, the fear inside my chest twisting and pulling at my nerves, trying to make me turn and run. To flee, get away, not understanding the weapon in my hand or the futility of escape. Primal urges just screaming inside “Get the fuck out of there!”
The gunshot echoed loudly round the back alley. Its sound was quickly followed by the moans of nearby zombies, attracted to the sounds of conflict.
The Daisy collapsed to the floor, the hole a perfect circle in the centre of its forehead. I had hit the target.
As the un-life left the zombie’s body, small white hairs started sprouting all across its skin, the largest clump emerging from the hole in its head. This small flicker of life made me feel extremely uneasy. The Daisy was dead. It had to be dead.
I tucked the gun back into my trousers and ran for the exit of the alley, limping as fast as I could. The barrel of the pistol felt painfully hot against my body.
Only four bullets left.
I left the alleyway, Moaners and Scratchers closing in on my position. Ignoring the pain in my foot, I began jogging my way back to the main road out of town. I was sick of Aylescombe. Time for me to get out of there.
✖
Finally I saw some good luck come my way. My shelter for the night was only half a mile from the edge of town and it wasn’t long before I was crossing the ring road and heading back into the safety of the countryside.
Leaving Aylescombe behind filled me with a great sense of relief. Sooner I was away, sooner I could forget about Dottie and the woman in the department store. No matter what happened, I would never come back to this place. This town was dead to me in more than just the walking way.
My eagerness to escape spurred me forward, the pain in my heel becoming nothing more than a minor nuisance. As soon as Aylescombe was out of sight, I stopped to check my map and check how far I was away from Camp Churchill.
Two miles.
I quickly folded the map and pressed on, not quite believing how close I was to safety. To people. Living people.
The path to Camp Churchill was a long country road through abandoned farmland. No one tended these fields anymore. Just a wide expanse of soil, the first shoots of defiant weeds breaking through the earth.
I remembered growing up and driving past farmland
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