George:The Long Road Home
By
Scarlet LeClair
Copyright © 2016 Scarlet Le Clair
This book is awork of fiction, names of characters, some places and incidents are the productof the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places orpersons, living or dead, is coincidental.
No part ofthis publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted or stored in adatabase in any form, without the prior permission of the publisher.
This bookshall not be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without thepublisher’s prior consent.
Published by Scarlet Le Clair 2016
Edited by Simon O’Neill
Cover art by Terra James
Cover Model Elman España
All Rights Reserved
Prologue: Kelly
Lying on myking sized bed with my two gorgeous children, Poppy aged 7 and Cameron aged 3,I slowly close my eyes. I can hear them downstairs, the strangers, and nowoutside our bedroom door, crashing into things and moaning those God-awfulinhuman moans. I imagine them trailing mud, blood and God knows what elsethrough my once spotless home and I cringe at the thought of what my houselooks like now.
We havebeen locked up inside my bedroom since the second week that those things cameinto our village. That was six months ago.
The firstnews reports came a day after my birthday, on the 3rd of March. Riots in theNorth of England, with extreme violence followed by an outbreak of a new strainof flu virus. By the end of that week, the rioting had spread throughout thecountry and now nowhere was safe.
I alwayshad a love of zombies and my husband and I often joked about where we would goand what we would take with us in the event of an apocalypse but this diseaseor whatever it was had come around so quickly, nobody had a chance. Thegovernment had urged everyone who was still alive to secure their houses asbest as possible and try to wait it out.
"Helpis on the way," they said.
Within weeksthe death toll had risen to hundreds of thousands, with rumors that the deadwere rising up again to feast on the flesh of the living, ripping and shreddingthem apart with their teeth and hands and passing along the disease.
The armywere trying their best to control the situation but they were obviouslyoutnumbered and this ... disease was spreading so fast they just couldn't keepup.
In thefirst week, George, my husband did a quick trip to the local store and got aload of tinned food, cereal, water and some powdered milk along with a treat ofsome hot chocolate for the kids. He even bought some packs of batteries for thekid’s DVD players. We took the kettle and camping stove upstairs to ourbedroom. We told the kids we were having an indoor camping holiday. They lovedthe idea.
The firsttwo weeks were great spending time with the kids and George but then thescreams started and things got even scarier. Guns are rare here in the UK butwe did hear a couple going off now and again. George and myself blocked off thestairs as best we could and locked the bedroom door then we pushed our chest ofdrawers in front of the door. We had an en suitebathroom so at least those needs would be taken care of for a while. Wehonestly thought somebody would come and save us. We had a little fire escapeout of our bedroom window onto the roof of our kitchen that we could use as aquick exit.
So here weare, the three of us, the kids and me, cuddled up on the bed. George had goneout what felt like a month ago to get more food and had not come back. In myhead I’m praying that he is safe but my heart is telling me otherwise, he wouldnever leave us here alone.
The zombieshave made their way through our makeshift barriers and are now outside thebedroom door. I can smell the rotten odor that accompanies them and it makes megag. It’s a mixture of feces, vomit, rotten eggs and spoiled meat and a wholeother array of disgusting stenches. They bang the door and I wonder how theyknew where we were, are they attracted by smell? Sound? Or both?
I look tothe children, both are sleeping peacefully, their breaths are gettingshallower, the cocktail of drugs I added to their hot chocolate earlier seemsto be working. I cannot let them live in this world any longer, just to surviveanother day to be ripped apart and eaten by those things. George is gone andthere is no help coming.
As theytake their last breaths I hold them both close to me. “I love you both to themoon and back,” I tell them, “you two are my everything and no longer will youhave to suffer the fear of what comes next. I hope we meet again.” Tears streamdown my face and my hands shake so badly I can barely move the covers but Imanage to tuck them in tightly, stroking the hair from their faces one last time.They look like two sleeping angels.
Next Iprepare and drink my mixture of hot chocolate and sleeping pills, I lie downnext to Poppy and I think about the good times in my life - meeting andmarrying George and having my children, the holidays we had taken together.Yes, we had an amazing journey. I start to feel very sleepy and can nolonger lift my arms or legs, in the back of my mind I can hear a lot of noisecoming from downstairs and now on the stairs. I imagine a horde of zombiesmaking their way up to me, searching for their next meal, their loud banging onthe bedroom door and I think I hear someone calling my name.
My eyes arereally heavy now and just as I’m about to give in and go to sleep I see George’sface in front of me. No that can’t be right, George is missing, but here he is,screaming and pulling at me, but I cannot understand what he is saying and I’mjust too tired to move.
“I’msorry,” I whisper to him, and to the kids I whisper, “Goodnight my twosweethearts.” I see men in army uniforms and guns flood the room just beforeeverything turns black.
CHAPTER 1: George
The
