Wildfire (Book 1): Leap of Faith Read online

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Sarah Dylan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner with out written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  eBook edition 2020

  Cover design by Sarah Dylan

  Published by Kindle books

  Dedication

  To Peter, I finally finished, you can stop asking now.

  Love you.

  Table of contents

  Introduction

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter One

  It has been four years since I lost everyone I ever knew. The world as we knew it ended with a zombie apocalypse because, apparently those are real now. What caused it? I don’t know. The news channels became overrun with the dead before we got to find out. For humanity to survive we must stab snappers in the head, wonderful. I call them snappers because of the way their mouths snap constantly, even their wild jerking movements could be described as snapping. Their bodies move unnaturally, if I wasn’t so used to seeing them, I would be scared.

  When our world ended life completely sucked for a while, I lost my family and my friends to the world of the dead. I got to my parents just in time to see them turn, they had both been bitten. I ran through the house and barricaded myself in my dad’s study. It took me a while to get into his gun cabinet and then not long after my parents turned snappers broke through the door. I will never forget that moment, when I pulled the trigger and saw my mom fall to the ground. I barely had the strength to lift the gun to put down my dad. Without thinking I ran out of the house and into the street and I got caught in the middle of mayhem. Snappers vs the army and some civilians.

  I got the hell out of that fight and hid with some survivors in a house, there we waited for the army to win. But they never did. Civilians were instructed to head to safe zones and to avoid the snappers at all caused (they called them the infected, but I prefer snappers). The small group of survivors became my family, we had saved each other countless times and truly had each other’s backs. It was hard for a while; we were a group of strangers forced into spending all our time together. I developed a strong bond with a kid called Dean, he was orphaned by the outbreak and I took him on as a little brother. Together we moved around for a while, safe zone to safe zone and then set up our longterm home in an eco-complex.

  It was basic but livable, showers and even some electric thanks to the solar panels. We made it our home. I lived with Dean and Sam, but occasionally we moved around. Sam moved in with his girlfriend after some time. For a time, I live with a boyfriend as well.

  Over the years we befriended people and lost people. I have had one relationship in the last three years, he was called Damian. He was everything to me, my friend and my lover. We protected each other and together we could do anything, or so I thought. In this world anything that you love you will lose; it is a tried and tested theory and sadly it has been proven to me on many occasions. Each time I would pull myself out of the dirt and get on with it. Fake it until you make it, I will admit that I could have a better motto, but it did work to some extent.

  Damian and I were on a supplies mission in a hospital, a dicey place to be at the best of times. Snappers were everywhere and we were trapped in a storeroom. I was ready to fight like hell and get out or at least die trying. He kissed me long and hard and as we were both about to come out of the room, he shoved me back inside and closed the door behind him. I heard gun shots and snarling from the snappers. The shots moved further and further away as he led them away from me.

  When I left the room, I couldn’t see any snappers and they sounded far away. I scanned the corridor with my flashlight, looking for his route. That’s when I heard Damian yell in pain, one gunshot and it abruptly stopped. I could hear the snappers going crazy, it sounded like a feeding frenzy.

  My world crumbled around me and I wanted nothing more than to stay in that corridor and let the snappers find me, but I couldn’t let Damians last act be for nothing, so I made myself leave. I left my heart right there on the hospital floor. There are no words to describe how hard it was to leave; I could have happily ended it right there and then. I had to go home and break the news to our family; they were distraught for me. I realized that he was never that popular, they hid it from me because I was one of their own, Damian never fitted in as well as me.

  So, thats a snapshot of my tale of woe and here I am in the middle of suburbia sat on a roof and looking at nothing. To my left is a bottle of rum and to my right a loaded gun with one bullet. It has my name on it, I suppose it always has. I have had it on me since the first week of the end of the world and I have been saving it for an emergency or for an ‘out’. Even when I was in a tricky spot, I never fired it, I liked having the safety net. After a while the bullet developed a sentimental value, it has travelled so far with me and I hate the idea of parting with it. If I shoot myself with it, I suppose it will be with me forever. That’s a consolation I suppose.

  I never thought it would be the ‘out’ that would cause me to fire this particular bullet, but then I didn’t foresee my family of the last three years being wiped out by a crazy asshole with a machine gun and some pretty heavy artillery. I really didn’t include that particular scenario in my life plans. Three weeks ago, that abominable asshole turned up at the gates demanding supplies… and me. He tried to buy me with weapons, well it was more like threatening. He was clear, take the weapons and give him the supplies and me on his arm or no one gets hurt. We said no… or a less polite version of no. It included a bullet in his leg for the trouble, I was very angry and insulted. He’s lucky that I didn’t shoot him in the head.

  One week later and I’m out hunting in the woods, it was my designated hunting day. I had a deer in my sights and was getting ready to take the shot. Then all hell broke loose in the direction of home. The deer took off in the opposite direction and I ran hell for leather towards the gun shots. I could hear my friends screaming in pain and others shouting directions and orders. There was an enormous explosion which shook the ground I ran on. A wave of dust and smoke threw me backwards and the world went dark, with all noises faded away.

  I came to on the floor and looking up to the sky. Around me drops of fire were floating to the ground. Tears began to blur my vision and I was overwhelmed by the sense of dread. I climbed to my feet and slowly staggered towards the sound of burning. All gun fire had ceased, there was no moaning from wounded, just silence from the dead.

  As I cleared the trees, I could see the damage that was done. Our complex was surrounded by a twenty-foot-tall fence and it was blown flat on its side by the blast. I could barely see through the smoke and breathing was an issue. Rubble and debris were strewn everywhere and it was hard to move through it. All the houses had been destroyed and I couldn’t tell where they used to be, there was nothing I could use to orientate by. I was climbing over the decimated remains of my life.

  I was looking for hope where there was none t
o be found. I hoped to find someone, anyone who was still alive. My tears are now streaming down my face and the knot is so tight in my stomach that I’m struggling to breathe at all. I leant over and braced my hands on my knees and tried to get a grip, the feeling of being truly alone was debilitating. My world had been ripped out from under my feet and I was floating in my misery. Looking down at my feet and trying to catch my breath is when I lost it altogether. That’s when I realized that I had been walking in the remains of my friends.

  For two weeks after I was in a blaze of anger, I walked aimlessly and heading nowhere at all. Occasionally, I would stop to unleash my rage on an unsuspecting fence, car or even a tree. My anger washed over me in waves. Eventually I have run out of steam and resigned myself to my decision. found a house with booze. The number one plan of the day was to sit on a roof getting slowly intoxicated and then end it all at sunset. One positive for my last day on earth is that I have been getting a small amount of satisfaction from watching a snapper slowly walk into one of my ‘bye bye snappy’ traps. I opened a manhole cover down the street and fences both sides leading it to a point (down the drain). Byeeeeee.

  I have lost everything that I have had or have ever had to live for. Once this bottle of rum is gone and the snapper has gone into my trap, then I am shit out of things to do and I am lacking in an fucks to find some more. It is satisfying in a way, I’m enjoying the rum and I’m enjoying the show and at the end I’ll make my grand exit. I just wish that there was someone here to bury me, however, if I wasn’t so totally alone then I probably wouldn’t be using the bullet. Life is fun.

  A gun shot knocks me out of my internal reflection time. In my peripheral vision I see the snapper fall to the floor and usually, I would hide. People are more likely to kill you than befriend you these days. I decided to let the shooter do my work for me, I didn’t hide.

  ‘Peyton! There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you! The rescue party is here!’ the tall fellow yelled.

  He was accompanied by two CIA agents, or atleast two people that are very much committed to their jobs of three years ago. How do I know they are CIA, the suits and the glasses and the probable rod shoved up their...

  ‘Aren’t you happy to see me?’ Mr. asshole interrupted.

  ‘No, I’m not’ I snapped down to him. I was mistaken, I thought that I had run out of steam and my anger dissipated. It was the opposite.

  I granted him a moment to wear his perplexed look so well before I unleashed on him…

  ‘You are seriously too fucking late, four years Ben, ‘FOUR FUCKING YEARS! I gave up on you a long time ago, I hung around home for the first three months and then left you a breadcrumb trail but it wasnt until the sixth month that I really gave up on you. You don’t turn up after three years and expect me to just fawn over you for rescuing me, dick-fucking-move. It’s not even a fucking rescue anymore! If I can survive in snapper-land this fucking long, then you can be very sure that the last thing in the world I need is you! This world is totalled, so go find another one to fucking abandon!’. I am panting, I am so livid!

  Once upon a time Ben and I were friends, best friends. We have known each other since we were children and I always knew he was a genius and he knew that I had his back. We developed a bond. Kids tried to pick on him and I would give them hell. He would help with my homework and show me all his crazy inventions.

  In college he really stepped it up and he created a machine that would allow him to hop between worlds or time. Maybe both, he always got excited when he was explaining it to me and started to get technical - in other words he totally lost me.

  We travelled to the first world wars and second. I saw some absolute horrors of human nature and some kind. I was a A student in history after that visit. We went back to caveman times but had to make a run for it, they were slightly aggressive towards us.

  We also hopped across parallel worlds and saw some amazing and horrendous results. It’s amazing what one change can make to a timeline! Ben showed me wonders and occasionally, he would take off with some girl he met and I would entertain myself. It wasn’t difficult, I was in a sodding parallel universe, that in itself was entertainment. Ben always came back for me though.

  That was until the last time. We were in a parallel universe where a Peyton Harris had gone missing and was presumed dead. Ben takes off and this time does not resurface. A few months later and I am spotted by a relative and on the spot had to lie my way out of it. Lying is not my speciality and the best I could come up with on the spot was amnesia. I pretended to not know them and said that I hit my head while hiking and couldn’t remember who I was. Totally unbelievable lie. But, atleast superficially it worked. I was welcomed home, there were parties and all the time I had to act as of I didn’t know anyone or the family stories that they told me.

  I would get weird stares from my parents, they knew something wasnt right but as far as I could tell they hadnt worked anything out. Two months later and the first snapper was on TV taking a huge number of bullets. They had this crazed monster running around taking serious chunks out of people and it ran at them with flesh still in its mouth and it still took about twenty shots before they went for the head. A living person wouldn’t be able to sprint at you with four bullets to the chest and six to the torso. Of all the things that have irritated me over the years, that is the one that stuck. Not sure what that says about me.

  So, I have been stuck in a world that isn’t mine, completely abandoned by my friend. Now, here he is looking up at me and acting as if it has only been a short while since we last saw each other. He’s lucky that I’m on a roof right now, just looking at his face makes me want to beat it to a pulp.

  Now is when I remember the gun sat next to me, I realise that there was a third option for my emergency bullet. Ben. I’m taking aim before I have even committed to the choice. Do I want to shoot him? He fucked me over, but people have done a lot worse to me since.

  ‘Peyton, I’m sorry, I am so sorry’ he is speaking so calmly, trying to pacify me. He even looks sad.

  Dick.

  ‘My transporter broke and it sent me away, I fixed it, but the timing was all out. No matter what I tried the earliest I could get here is right now. I tried everything’.

  He looks like a broken man, and I want to feel sorry for him… and then I remember everything that I have been through in the last few years. My resolve is strengthened, my aim is sure and my finger is moving towards the trigger.

  ‘Peyton. Hi, I am special agent Deveraux. I can see that your anger is understandable towards this man’, Mr. glasses hadn’t captured my attention at all until now.

  I appreciated his sideways look of disdain towards Ben. You have my attention. I gave him a nod.

  ‘Peyton, do you really want to kill him? He is a royal pain in the ass and definitely deserves your anger but is he worth the bullet?’ he silenced Bens protests with a shush, ‘There are so many other ways you could get revenge. Get creative, it’s a lawless country so that should free up your options.’ Mr glasses and his silvery voice did voice some very serious concerns. Is he worth my bullet?

  I had my reservations about shooting him, I couldn’t really call this self-defense seeing as he’s unarmed. It would be murder. Is that the best use of your limited time on earth and your special bullet? I glanced over towards Ben and without hesitation took my aim and fired my special bullet.

  Chapter Two

  I might have some people issues but my aim is spot on. Behind Ben the snapper fell to the ground.

  I ignore Ben’s wide eye confusion and give him a minute to recover. I may not have shot him, but I am lacking in positive emotions towards him. It is hard to not roll my eyes in his direction. I look over to Deveraux who is grinning at me and the other one is smiling in surprise. Down the street at the edges of my vision I could see movement, lots of it.

  ‘Get inside!’ I hissed at them, ‘go around the back’ I pointed to my right.

  Gunfire in snapper land
has a distinct tendency to backfire. It saves you from one but draws in the many. I jumped down onto the balcony below and rushed through the house and down to the back entrance.

  Staring pointedly at Ben I whispered a hiss ‘stay quiet and out of sight’.

  Stepping lightly and avoiding knocking any objects I made my way to the front window and leaned up against the wall beside. Peering through the curtains, I could see several snappers outside. Their wild jerking movements were even more exaggerated by the recent stimulation. They were frantically searching the street out front; one was on the porch of the house opposite.

  That should have warned me, a split second later and one had its face shoved up against the window I was looking through. I moved my head quickly back against the wall and flattened myself as much as I could. A sideways glance across the room showed Deveraux and the other one doing the same thing on the other side of the window. Side thought I need a better name for the other one. Ben was totally out of sight. Good.

  I want nothing more than to run out and take them all on. A SWAT trainer joined the group about a year ago and he turned me into his pet project. At least I think he was a SWAT trainer, he like many others outright refused to speak of their lives before the snappers; which was fair enough. It triggers a lot of bad memories. I rarely let my mind wander and every time that I do, I feel like I’ll lose my mind. Every day he would drill me, restlessly, until I could block anything that he sent my way. He did have an unorthodox method. He wasn’t gentle, he would mean it when he hit me. Either I learned to move or block it, or I got a cracked rib.

  If I was on my own, I would go and deal with the situation outside. But as I have company, I’ll leave it. They could decide to come out and help me and if they make a mistake, they could die but more selfishly they could take me with them. The absolute last way I want to go is by being ripped apart.