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

down,” I say as I sit on a stool, my body completely shattered. “You want them to find us?”
    Curtis turns to me, scowling. “Why don’t you fucking make me ?”
    “Is there something wrong with you?” I reply, wiping the sweat away from my eyes. “Do you really think that now is a good time to argue?”
    “You were at the bar earlier, weren’t you? At The Farmers Arms. You and your friends attacked us.”
    “Yeah, he was,” says Ginge, his voice firm, ready to tear his head off. “And so was I. What the fuck are you gonna do about it?”
    “Who gives a crap?” Natalie asks, stepping in front of her brother. “None of that matters now.”
    “Your friend nearly killed me, you prick,” I snap, standing up from the stool. “He nearly strangled me to death.”
    “ Yeah , and you nearly bit his hand off,” Curtis retorts. “What the fuck is wrong with you Swansea lot? You’re like a bunch of fucking animals .”
    “Hey, you and your mates were the ones who decided to come down in the first place,” I point out. “We were outnumbered—and we still fucked you up.”
    “Just sit back down, Alfie,” Natalie says. “This is not the place to bring up all this shit. It’s not important.”
    Curtis turns to his sister, his face creased with fury. “And how the fuck do you know this nigger’s name?”
    Ginge races over to him, grabbing him by the collar of his Cardiff jersey. “Say that again!” Ginge threatens, slamming him against the door with a loud thud. “Go on, say it again! I fucking dare you! ”
    Clutching Ginge by his thick, rounded shoulders, Natalie tries to pry him off her brother.
    Someone calling me a nigger, any other time—and especially a Cardiff prick—and I’d happily smash their heads against the wall. But right now, in this moment of bedlam, all I can think about is Nathan lying on the stairs, dead . And Jonny? Most likely dead as well.
    I shouldn’t have left him. I should have made him come with us. Of course he’d want to stay there—the Nec had just ripped his brother’s throat out. I should have dragged him away, kicking and screaming, if that’s what it took. Who cares about an elbow to the mouth!
    And now they’re both gone, and we’re barricaded in this room—with a bunch of bloody strangers.
    “Stop fighting!” someone shouts from the left of me. Startled, I turn to see a man, mid-sixties, thick mop of white head on his head. Shit! Where the hell did he come from? “You’re scaring my wife.” The man is slouched on the cream-coloured, leather sofa, his huge gut almost popping the buttons off his light blue shirt, which is drenched through with sweat. His skin is pale, and he’s holding a blood-soaked cloth over his right forearm.
    Is that a bite mark?
    Ginge loosens his grip on Curtis, allowing Natalie to pull him away and step in front of her brother.
    “We all need to keep our voices down!” the man says, his tone aggressive. “We can’t have every Tom, Dick, and Harry knowing we’re in here.” He starts to cough loudly, holding the same cloth over his mouth.
    The grey-haired woman is sitting next to him. She hands him a bottle of water from the small glass table in front of the sofa, and then takes the cloth from him.
    “Your arm’s bleeding,” Ginge says to the man. “What the hell happened to you?”
    “That’s none of your business,” the woman snaps, walking over to the plush white drinks-bar to the left of the sofa. Hanging over one of the draught pumps is a blue cloth. She grabs it and then gives it to her husband. “You lot need to get out of here. I should have never opened that door.”
    “Have you been bitten?” Ginge asks. “Did one of those Necs attack you?”
    “Shut up!” Natalie snaps. “It’s nothing to do with us.”
    “Of course it is,” Ginge replies. “If he’s infected then he’ll turn into one of those things.”
    “You’d prefer to be outside then, would you?” the man replies. “By all means, no one