Katherin Hassan-Clarke and Esther Quinn, young lovers living on the coast of Riga, Latvia, face the terrifying realisation that their home is no longer safe when a deadly zombie pathogen ravages Eastern Europe. Fleeing their home before they are for...
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Morgana jolted awake.
Her head was throbbing, her lips cracked and dry. Someone's jacket had been tossed over Morgana's torso; a weak attempt at keeping her warm in the freezing cold.
Morgana pushed herself onto her forearms, looking out into the sky. The light was glowing orange, hues of pink dripping out behind the dense clouds. Morgana sighed in relief. She hadn't been asleep for too long - a couple of hours, at most.
"We're almost there," Lyria spoke over her shoulder, her fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.
Lyria could feel exhaustion seeping into her bones. She'd wanted to sleep on the way to the car yard, but no one else had been able to drive after Morgana had collapsed. Jaxx was exhausted from his fight with the zombie, Gwynth's leg was useless, and Katherin had never been the best at driving - she hadn't been able to afford driving lessons, nor the fee to pass the test. The others weren't willing to drive either. They were exhausted, traumatised by the event that took place in the pharmacy.
Lyria didn't blame them for wanting a break from the life they'd been thrust into. She just wished she could've had a nap before they were thrown into the next life-threatening situation.
The gun dug into Lyria's hip, the cold metal taunting her, bringing her attention to the sweat beaded across her brow, despite the cold weather. She was becoming sick, and there was nothing that Lyria could do about it. They hadn't thought to pack any medication to soothe a common cold. Had they even considered the possibility that they would become sick? Lyria didn't think so. They'd been so preoccupied with the thoughts of someone being injured that they didn't stop to think about natural causes of illness.
The car yard was up ahead. It was surrounded by barbed wire; a makeshift fence that the owner had erected after a couple of teenagers drove off with one of his most expensive cars.
Katherin had never admitted it, but Lyria was sure that she was to blame. She and Izzy had disappeared on the day of the crime, only to return home with scratches and cuts across their body.
The car had never been found. It wasn't surprising, not really. The police were generally useless - not that anyone could blame them. They weren't paid enough, weren't given enough funding by the government, to prevent crime across the cities. There simply wasn't enough money to go around.
Lyria eased her foot onto the brake, slowly bringing the car to a halt. She pried her fingers off the steering wheel, telling herself that it was okay to leave the car, that there wasn't a lurking zombie nearby.
They stumbled out of the car, tripping over stray arms and legs. Lyria left the key in the ignition, just in case they needed to make a quick escape. Rosabelle grabbed the medical bag from the glove box. She wouldn't forget about it, not again.
"What now?" Morgana asked.
Jaxx shrugged. The cold had enveloped his body, causing his skin to break out in goosebumps. Jaxx fought the urge to rub his palms along his flesh. He would have to find a new shirt later. A jacket would be better if he could find it.
