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

I bent, wincing with pain, but I couldn't complain. I wasn't near death.

The kid put my coat over Naomi while he still talked, his voice too quiet to understand. All I could manage was to walk, stumbling every few steps as I tried to go faster.

We were heading down into a short valley, my eyes fixed on the brow, hoping for what we would see the other side.

“Ellie,” Cassie screamed. Her call ripped through the air as she ran past, the dog staying by my side. The little girl was crying, her face bunching.

The boy was talking, but I still hadn't heard what he'd said.

“A house,” came Cassie's cry as she stood on the brow of the hill, not turning our way before disappearing over the edge.

I was soon behind her and saw the little cottage. The boy had stopped talking. I'd seen his face light up at Cassie's words, but it fell as he'd caught sight of the squat building on its own nestled at the side of the road.

To its front was a sparse rocky garden, with a long fence at the back surrounding a wide stretch of grass. Inside the fence was a large wooden shed, or it could have been a barn, but who really cared?

The road was sparsely lined with trees and as I followed it into the distance I thought I saw more buildings. Cassie continued running down the hill, still calling for her sister.

“Andrew,” I shouted. The boy said something again and I stopped, turning toward him. He was taking in the view, squinting off into the distance.

“What is it?” I said in a hurry.

“I think we should try to be quiet,” he said, and I watched him turn.

“We need to find our friends,” I said, shaking my head.

“But we don't want to find them,” he replied, his hand outstretched, pointing back to the woods.

I turned and saw only trees, but as my gaze settled I spotted movement. The more I stared the more movement I could see. It wasn't the trees moving, but those things.

I carried on staring, hoping to see if they were running, chasing after or ambling along as if out for a stroll. I couldn't believe the world had gone so far that I was glad when I could tell they were the undead, but only the slow ones.

The boy was right, they were heading in our direction. I turned, picking up the pace toward the cottage.

Cassie stood in the road as we arrived. She was facing outward from the cottage, but she'd stopped calling to the surroundings. Instead, she gently shook, rocking the girl from side to side. She must have seen them too.

The dog ran ahead. It seemed to know the plan, his nose twitching as he moved around the building.

My arms ached as I let Naomi down gently to the short strip of grass in front of the house. She didn't respond and I knew there was nothing I could do until I got her inside. Even then, I doubted I could help.

My hands were tacky as I let go, my chest running with sticky blood.

The dog was back at my side, looking up at me as if giving the all clear. I ran to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. I shoved my shoulder hard against it, but it held firm.

The boy spoke again in a quiet voice. This time I listened.

“We need that,” he said. Again, he was right.

Looking back, Cassie was still staring out the same while blood had pooled in the grass around Naomi's head.

I headed around the building, the dog and the boy following as I picked up a discarded stone from the rock garden.

The bigger windows needed to stay too, but I found a small high pane around the side I could reach with my hand outstretched. It wasn't much bigger than a large dinner plate. The pain would be unbearable, but with a squeeze I was sure I could get inside.

Making sure the boy and the dog were out of the way, I threw the hand-sized rock and watched as it bounced off the double glass and fell to the floor at my feet. I glanced to the front of the house and saw Cassie sobbing as she rocked the toddler back and forth.

The boy handed me the rock and I threw again. This time, the first pane gave, then, standing on the tips of my toes, the second pane was gone, with the remains of glass soon following.

I turned and the boy had disappeared, but before I could spin back I saw him walking toward me with my gun in his hand. My eyes went wide as he held the pistol with such confidence, the barrel pointed down towards the ground. He must have grabbed it from my jacket pocket.

“Um,” I said. “Hand it over.”

He looked up, his face lit with hurt.

“But what if those things are inside?”

A thought stumbled across my mind. Was he offering to go inside? There was no way I could let that happen.

“I'm going in,” I said, holding out my hand.

“Not with your injuries,” he replied. “You'll pass out before you reach the other side.”

Again, he was right, but I couldn't ask him to do this.

I didn't have to; he was already at the wall, waiting for me to boost him up.

As his feet disappeared through the window, I heard glass breaking from inside and the dog barked as if he was next to be helped up.

I couldn't stifle a chuckle as I ran around the front, wrapping my sticky arms around myself from the cold. I waited with my ear at the door, listening to the silence, broken only by Cassie's comforting, low-pitched calls.

I couldn't