Read The Zombie Saga (Book 3): Burn The Dead: Riot for Free Online Page B

doors: VIP suites. I stop at the first one and try the handle. It’s locked, so I pound my fist on the door. No response. Ginge, Natalie and Curtis do the same for the others as we move along the corridor. All locked and with no reply.
    “Open the fucking door!” Ginge shouts as he slams his fist into another door. “We need help!”
    We keep trying.
    The sound of stomping footsteps roars up from the stairwell. An eerie symphony of moans fills the corridor from all directions.
    They’re coming!
    With no time to turn back and no Plan B , we’re cornered.
    “There’s got to be someone in one of these rooms,” Natalie says as she joins her brother at another VIP door, banging her fists against it. “I can hear movement inside.”
    “Someone help us!” Curtis pleads to a potentially empty room. “Open the door!”
    The sounds of the dead creep nearer. Curtis starts to shoulder barge the door. I join him; so does Ginge.
    They’re getting closer! Just a few metres away!
    “Please!” Natalie begs. “Let us in!”
    The floor starts to vibrate from the weight of stamping feet.
    We’re done for!
    Just as I’m about to ready myself for an attack, I hear the lock click. The door quickly opens, and an old woman in a black dress is standing behind it. Before she can even open her mouth, we stampede inside.
    The woman slams the door shut and locks it.
     

9
     
    All my life I’ve longed for a chance to be in here—the VIP suite. To be able to watch the game from so high up, without screaming idiots all around me, to drink a glass of beer without having to watch your back, having to make sure Jonny doesn’t lose it and end up kicking someone’s teeth in. A part of something special. This is where I belong; this is exactly where I thought I’d end up some day. Standing up against the glass with my friends, and looking down at the greatest team that ever played.
    But I’m here, much earlier than I anticipated. But instead of celebrating, drinking ice-cold beers, eating smoked salmon appetisers, shouting for Swansea to move their asses , I’m standing against the red door, my shoulder pressed firmly into the thick wood, next to Ginge, making sure that an army of Necs don’t come bursting in, to tear us limb from limb.
    This is definitely not how I pictured it.
    I clench up tightly when I hear the sound of footsteps approach the door; some clearly running, while others drag their feet against the carpet, as if life after death is one big struggle.
    We don’t say a word; none of us do. There are just too many of them out there. Silence is our only protection.
    How the hell did this happen?
    One minute I’m taking a piss, and the next, the place is crawling with them.
    Did it come from the Cardiff section? Seems like it did with all the rioting.
    It had to be them, didn’t it?
    Dirty fuckers — bringing their disease to us.
    I see Natalie standing by her brother; she gasps quietly when we hear faint scratching on the door. I put my finger against my lips to quiet her. Her eyes are streaming with tears. She closes them.
    Ginge struggles to silence his heavy breathing; his face is red from exhaustion; sweat pouring down his face; his horrified eyes locked onto mine as the footsteps stop outside the door. I’m terrified that they’ll hear my heart pounding, my heavy breathing. Placing a hand over my mouth and nose, I put more pressure against the door, praying that the hinges don’t creak.
    We hold the position for at least five minutes before we’re certain that the Necs have moved on.
    My hand shaking with terror, I reach down and twist the door handle, double-checking that it is locked. It is— thank God . I move away from the door. After a few more seconds, Ginge does the same.
    “Sounds like they’ve gone,” Natalie whispers. “I think we’re safe.”
    “How can we be safe with those things out there?” Curtis asks. “We’re finished, Nat—there’s just too many of them.”
    “Keep your voice