In The End Box Set by Stevens, GJ (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📗

The slow step of the hound pulled my gaze from the body. As I caught its shape, it took another step forward with its head bowed, eyes on me. Its long teeth bared, sticky blood mixed with foam, white saliva dripped along it lips to the grass.

The gun was still out and I straightened its weight. It was heavier than ever but I knew the opposite should be true. The dog, a pet before today, had saved my life, but looked like it had done so to take me for itself.

I'd had animals as a child; dogs, hamsters, no cats, but not while I'd been an adult, convincing myself I didn't need a companion.

My heart sank as I thought of the rabid, demonic animals joining the list of things we would have to fight and compete with if we were going to survive the next few days. They weren't spared the same fate as their owners, no immunity from this horrific disease making us fight for our lives to get out of the South West.

I locked gazes with the animal and stared as it inched forward. I knew what I had to do. So many lives had been lost and it was dead, after all, but pulling the trigger was one of the hardest things I'd done.

I closed my eyes and nothing but a hollow click came. The gun was empty. The world had made its choice.

I had no fight left. A melancholy weight fell over me but somehow a brush of wind blew it away. I had to go on; there were people depending on my survival.

Dropping the gun, I took up on my elbows, edging at a snail's pace towards the tree-line, pain radiating from my chest, sending stars across my vision with each tiny movement.

The soft footsteps were close. I knew it was waiting for me to drop, but there was nowhere to run. Even if I had the energy.

I was on my last calorie when my left elbow slipped, back dropping to the ground, my eyes falling closed.

I let the breath push out from my lungs and hoped it would be quick, grateful for the end of the worst twenty-four hours of my life.

35

JACK

The first sign was the heavy knock at the door, Rusty's bark booming as he barrelled down the stairs.

My room was dark, but I couldn't tell the time, the red numbers on my Spiderman clock not there. Still, I knew it was late. The music from downstairs had stopped; my parent’s friends gone as the wine ran out.

Outside was an eerie brightness, but our narrow lane didn’t have street lights until you got near town, I climbed from under the covers to investigate.

Standing on my toy box under the window, I saw a long white coach, the headlights marking out the lane stretching past the house.

We were the only house for a quarter of a mile.

The coach was full of people staring back as I peered out the window. Their eyes glazed, half asleep. Maybe they'd just got woken too?

The second sign was Mum bursting through the door, her hand reaching to the switch. It clicked, but the room stayed dark.

Still, I could see she had my school bag and told me to pack essentials, then repeated as I glared back.

“Pants and socks, warm clothes,” she explained. “No toys,” she said, adding, “don't be scared,” as she left.

Scared? I didn't understand what she meant. The last five minutes had been the most interesting thing to have ever happened.

I grabbed the top three comics from the shelf. Pushed them to the bottom of the bag, then emptied my drawer of pants and socks, throwing in two t-shirts, stuffing a pair of jeans after.

Apparently, I was supposed to know I had to get dressed too. Adults need to say what they mean!

I was only half-dressed when my mum was back again and practically dragged me down the stairs to where Dad was half asleep with my sister, Tish, in his arms, his breath sweet and sickly.

At the front door was a solider, dressed just like Action Man Paratrooper, but his gun was smaller and strapped to his waist; the first time I'd seen one in real life.

The night was getting better.

He smiled as I stepped past, ruffling my hair. If my mum had done it I would have given her such a hard time.

We nearly took the last of the spaces on the coach and it looked like it was mostly families on board; the kids were asleep, the dads staring through the misting windows. The mums were either crying or trying not to.

There were grandparents, too. One granddad was pale white and with every other breath he rattled the windows as he coughed. The only free seats were at the back.

We took the furthest row, leaving the last two seats empty in front of us. As we sat, I was desperate to get moving, desperate to see where the surprise would end up.

Mum made us sit either side of her. Dad to her left, his lap piled high with filled carrier bags. The inside lights turned off as we pulled away. It was nearly pitch black, but it didn't stop Mum rearranging. She was a constant sorter and could rearrange an empty room. I watched as she took my bag; could just see her looking down her nose as she saw how I'd loaded my pack. She pulled the comics and threw them on my lap, pushing in bottles of water and cans of something. She'd obviously forgotten to make a picnic.

The lights were back on as we stopped and the soldier stepped out. We were at the neighbour's. They'd only just moved in, Mum was saying to Dad, their house bright