The Last Invasion Read online

  Isolation Z: Book 4

  The Last Invasion

  Isolation Z Book 4: The Last Invasion by Aline Riva and Nathan Ward

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  A Kindle Original 2018

  Copyright © Aline Riva and Nathan Ward 2018

  Cover Design Copyright © Nathan David Ward 2018

  The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  Dedication

  With love for Genie Dove

  The Last Invasion

  Chapter 1: Springtime in Circus Town

  The sea was calm as the sun shone down on the water. The weather was warm and before the end of everything, before the rising of the dead, this beach would have been busy, it was a very warm morning in May and in two days, the fairground would be open for business. But no one wanted to venture down to the beach or swim on the sea, not any more. The guards posted along the sea wall were always there, guns ready looking out for undead that might be washed ashore.

  It was the subject of the undead that had brought John Mundy to the empty beach front, he stood there beside a sea wall where graffiti from the old world had been ravaged and worn away by time and weather, looking to Marc as he said what was on his mind – the only thing that had kept him awake at night in the run up to the fairground opening once more.

  “I'm not happy about this,” John said, making a sweeping gesture to the wide open space.

  As he stood there, the sea breeze ruffling his dark wavy hair, Marc stood beside him, casting a glance to the water and then back to him.

  “It's the sea, John. We can't hold back the tide.”

  The sea reflected in his gaze as he stood there in a white shirt and blue jeans and looked out across the water. There was not a boat in sight, not a sign of life as far as the eye could see.

  “And if we had a large number of the corpses wash in, what then?”

  Marc stood there dressed in a black vest and black denim, about his waist was a holstered handgun.

  “That's the whole point of the watch rota. In all the time this town has been putting itself back together – even before we got rid of Flint, there's been no incidence of horde invasion via the sea. I know this, I've talked to the guys on patrol.”

  John turned from the water and met his gaze.

  “Even if we posted guys at every gate along this wall, it wouldn't stop an invasion if it happened. I'm thinking about what happened to your island. I've heard it from Parsons, Greg and Christian. Vicky won't talk about it. Emma won't talk to anyone about much these days -”

  “Because Alex took off,” he reminded him, “She loved that guy. And it doesn't help that he's bat shit crazy. He could be anywhere now – he's crazy enough to venture out there, into the towns, maybe the cities too.”

  “If he's still alive,” John said quietly, “I don't want to think the worst but it's hell out there, these things are crawling all over the place...” he shook his head, recalling the old world, when zombies existed only in horror movies, “We think we're safe,” he added, “But are we? All it would take is a ship wreck to beach right here and it's end of story. Everyone dies. This is what keeps me up at night, Marc. I study the maps of our defences and then it's on my mind, this great big wide open space.”

  Marc cast his mind back to the day Wolfsheer Island was destroyed. It was something he rarely thought about these days, settling in Circus had given him as close to a sense of normality as a man could grasp, given the fact that the dead were still roaming the earth beyond the boundaries.

  “A drifting ship slammed into the rocks, the tide carried it with such force the hull sliced open and lodged it there. They poured out. No one stood a chance. Very few of us got away. But there are no rocks here, John! And if a boat washed up and it was full of zombies, we have enough men on patrol and enough guns to wipe them out. We didn't see it coming on Wolfsheer. We got so comfortable we may as well have been sleeping when it happened. That will never happen here...” he started to smile, “You know what I think? I'm looking at you thinking, you're the man of the people, we got rid of Flint, you're exactly where you should be, you're doing a great job and everyone can see it but you. Chill out, John. It's not going to happen. This town is secure.”

  As Marc smiled, so did John, but it was fleeting as he glanced back at the sea once more.

  “I still think, there's a lot of open water out there...”

  “Empty seas,” Marc replied, “Now let's take a walk back to the fairground – we'll run through the safety inspection together.”

  “Good plan,” John agreed, “Then maybe I can go over the map with you – I want your opinion on ways to tighten up the vulnerable spots.”

  “I think we're as tight as we can be,” Marc replied, “But I'll take a look.”

  “Thanks,” John replied, then the two men turned from the sea and walked away towards an open gate, where beyond, down a steep hillside, the colourful fair looked bright in the morning sunshine.

  Far off down the other end of the beach front, in a flat that stood out from the rest because it was the only one old and unmodernised inside and out, Emma sat at the table in Alex Casper's front room, the carpets and wallpaper was faded and the TV still caked in dust, standing as dark as it had since the day the world had given into the apocalypse and all stations had gone off air. The morning sunlight came in through nets that sparkled white because Emma had washed them, and as the sun fell on the table top, tiny particles of dust floated visible in the air as she looked across the table at Parsons, whose eyes reflected a haunted expression.

  “Shall I go first?” she asked, cutting a silence that had lasted since his arrival at her door ten minuted before.

  He nodded, his thoughts far away, as far away as his heart. They had spoken the day before about how they both had missing loved ones. We should talk, she had suggested. Now she was going to speak first and he was going to listen.

  “Nothing has been permanent since the day I took the helicopter out to the North Sea, even when we reached Wolfsheer, it felt like home for a while but then they came and it was destroyed... but I thought here, after all we've been through, I had a chance with Alex to make a new life. It certainly wasn't the life I'd planned for, not ever – but we had something worth holding on to. I loved him and...” she paused, recalling the words he had written in his note. She knew them by heart because she had read that letter so many times, “I loved him very much, enough to spend my life with him – but he never got over losing his kids. He wanted to have a child with me and I said no because he's bite virus positive and I don't have what it takes to raise a child like Zodiac. I was honest about that and he left. I worry for him every day. That's all, Parsons, I just worry. I want him to be okay out there but I just don't know.”

  Parsons gave a heavy sigh. His dark features were etched with tiny lines that had deepened as he thought of his wife, last seen taking a boat with the island children when the invasion struck.

  “I think of Serena every day. I think of those kids, too. It's been months. I keep hoping a boat will turn up, and she'll be on board. I see her standing there, her red hair like fire in sunlight, telling me how she's kept moving, always searching for me...” he had smiled for a moment, then his smile vanished, “But then I remember what it's like beyond this town. Th
ese corpses don't fall apart and go to dust, they just keep going unless we kill them. And there's too many of them. The world is infested. She's out there in that infested world with those children trying to survive. That's what I hope. I can't think about the other possibility.”

  Emma had been listening intently.

  “That's what I hope for Alex,” she replied, “He's crazy enough to survive out there alone. If he can do it, so can Serena and I know she would do anything to protect those children, too.”

  For Emma, it felt as if a floodgate had opened. In Parsons, she had found a common bond.

  “I sometimes dream of going out there and finding him,” she said, “Just to remind him that he doesn't need to be alone. I want to find him, bring him home and even if I don't get another chance with him, at least I'll know he's safe every day.”

  “I think about searching for Serena,” Parsons replied, “But then I remember it's a big world and it's changed forever and the living who are scattered have to hide. If she can hide from the dead, I doubt the living have a chance of finding her - I don't know where to start.”

  Emma quietly reflected on all Parsons had done over the past few months to pull the community together. He had put his heart and soul into this place much like he had done when running Wolfsheer – perhaps his constant need to work with John Mundy on bringing the town back to something resembling normality was his way of staying sane as he worried for his missing wife on a daily basis.

  “ I often volunteer for beach patrol in the hope I'll see a boat on the horizon,” Emma said, “Then I'll see Alex on board... but all I ever see is open water.” Parsons nodded.

  “We look to the sea hoping for miracles... or ghosts. All we see is water, no ships, not a living soul out there.”

  He looked down at the table, lost in thoughts too filled with loss to share aloud. Emma felt an ache in her heart as she thought of Alex, but recognised that as giving up - and she would never give up on seeing him again.

  “I think we should both keep looking to that water and hoping for the best,” she told him, forcing a smile as a glimmer of optimism shone in her eyes, “Your wife is a survivor and so is Alex. We'll both see them again one day, maybe sooner than we think. We just have to keep watching and waiting.”

  Parsons looked up, meeting her gaze as he saw hope in her eyes, and it lent him much needed strength.

  “Yes, we will keep watching that water,” he vowed, “They're both out there somewhere.”

  She nodded, the hope not wavering in her eyes as she rose from the table.

  “Now, I'm going to make some tea,” she said, “Would you like some?”

  Parsons smiled.

  “I would love some tea,” he replied.

  “I'll put the kettle on,” she told him.

  As Emma left the room and headed for the kitchen, the smile vanished from her face and her heart ached sharply for Alex. For a moment the mention of making tea had been a brief window of normality that had put her back in the old world. But no, it could never be the way it used to be, not really – the zombie apocalypse was real, it had happened and was still happening outside the boundaries of their secure town. Life could never be normal again.

  For Greg, it was just the start of another day at the medical centre. He had arrived early that morning and the place wasn't open to patients until nine, that gave him two hours to work through some patient records that needed to be updated. He took the familiar route down the corridor, heading for his office. Then he noticed Christian's door was open but he was not there. That was odd, because he was always there early – Greg had never managed to arrive before him. Christian sometimes got there as early as six am, but he had no clue why...

  “Christian?” his voice echoed about the empty corridor.

  He heard a door close somewhere distant, then the sound of footfalls on a stairway. Greg looked down the corridor, towards the far end as he wondered, was Christian poking about in the basement again? There was nothing down there but machinery and some kind of pipework that led to the sewerage system. He couldn't imagine why he spent so much time down there...

  “Doc Fitzroy!”

  As a man yelled his name he turned sharply to see to see a builder from the site based up at the extended boundary where the team had been securing higher walls. He was supporting a young woman who was clutching at her arm as blood dripped to the floor, landing in bright splashes on its polished surface.

  “What happened?”

  As Greg dashed over to meet them, he recognised the woman:

  She was tall and slender, her usually healthy complexion was pale as she looked down in horror at the wound to her arm. Her name was Kara Mallory and she had been working at the site, taking pictures to document the progress and identify the next steps of the route to take to extend the barrier around the town. She had ventured out to the very edge of the safe zone, beyond the industrial estate and out into the partly cleared woodland. She had been bitten two months back, but the bite had been more of a scratch, leading to no infection as a co worker had shot the attacking zombie before it could bite again. Before, she had been quite calm about being attacked by the undead. This time she was crying as she stood there leaning against the builder who supported her, she was shaking and as she looked at Greg, her eyes were wide with fear.

  “I think it went down to the bone!”

  Greg didn't bother taking her hand away from the wound, it would just mean more blood to clean up later on and it was already splashed on her white top and had stained her jeans. The young woman had perhaps under estimated how dangerous it was to venture out to edge of the barrier...

  “I don't know how it got her!” said the guy who had an arm about her shoulder, “One minute the creature was out by the trees and she's taking pictures of the latest section of barrier, then she goes off further into the woods – I told her not to go there!”

  “I wanted to get an accurate shot of the route ahead for John,” she said, taking a sharp breath as the wound throbbed. Then she looked to the man stood in front of her, she had met him once before when she had been scratched, he looked handsome and well groomed as he stood there in his dark suit, his eyes filled with concern as he noticed her pale expression.

  “I know this is deep,” she said, “It's okay, Doc Fitzroy – you can tell me if I'm likely to wind up carrying the virus. I'd rather know than wonder.”

  “Let's just get the wound sorted out first,” Greg said, indicating to a treatment room, “This way, Miss Mallory.”

  But then the man who accompanied her took his arm off her shoulder and spoke up.

  “By the way I'm sorry Kara, but you're fired.”

  Her jaw dropped. Greg was standing there waiting to take her to get the wound fixed but she was glaring angrily at the guy who had brought her in, now not caring that blood was flowing through her fingertips as she tried to stem the bleed and it dripped heavier to the floor.

  “You can't do that!”

  “I can, and I just did,” he replied, “John said when we all started to be careful – we can't have carelessness. One bite is too many. This latest one is way too many, Kara. You'll get yourself killed.”

  Then he turned away and walked off towards the open door.

  “Please don't do this to me!” she yelled, but he left without a backwards glance.

  Kara turned to Greg as anger blazed in her eyes and she carried on bleeding on to the floor.

  “I loved my job!”

  “And that really is one bite too many,” remarked Christian as he joined them.

  “She's had a couple of bad encounters at the barrier, that's all!” Greg said.

  Christian stood there looking immaculate in his grey suit as he stepped back from another splash of blood that hit the floor, looking at Greg through his round rimmed glasses as he said something unexpected:

  “No Greg, you've only seen her twice – first for the scratch and now this. I've also seen her twice. This her fourth attack. You shouldn't
go back out there, Kara. You're not safety conscious.”

  Christian headed back to his office. Kara glared after him. Greg glance down at her arms. Her top had short sleeves and now he noticed the scars – three on her left arm, now this wound on her right... one above the wrist, one close to the elbow, both in the undersides. Oddly, neatly placed. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't think what it could be.

  “Come with me,” he said to her, “I need to assess the depth of that wound.”

  He led her into a treatment room and she took a seat, extending her arm as he sat the other side of the table and put on gloves and examined the bite. Blood was leaking out and soaking the paper towels beneath her arm, she sucked in a sharp breath as he inspected the deepest part of the bite and tossed her fair hair off her shoulders, leaning back as she breathed through the pain.

  “Well, it's not as deep as you think,” he told her, “It's gone through flesh on the upper layers but it's not full thickness. It just feels that way because they have a heavy grip,” he smiled, “I'm guessing it was a very decayed specimen with a lot of dental decay. Lucky you, Kara. The bad news is, I'll have to cut out a small area of flesh, then wash the wound with salt water and antiseptic and then sew it up. You're going to have a scar because my needlework is not as neat as Doctor Wells, but this is definitely not a serious wound, it's just bleeding a lot and it looks worse than it is.”

  “Okay,” she said quietly.

  Then he got up and began to gather together all he would need to clean up and treat the wound. Kara said nothing, even though he had just given her good news. He assumed it was because she was in pain, and faced more to repair the damage - no sense of relief had registered on her face at all...

  Greg was used to bite victims coming in, it was not a regular occurrence but he saw them now and then, usually with minor wounds as a consequence from working outside the safety of the town barriers. Thankfully all men who worked out there were armed and watchful and so far, no fatality or severe bite had resulted from this exposure to the outside world, but Kara seemed to have the worst luck, four bites?