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

stayed in place. I stepped to the landing, watching the dog's ears twitch up.

“The back door was open.” Ellie's voice was clear.

I was already moving when Cassie spoke again.

“Did you close it behind you?”

I didn't hear the answer before I'd jumped down the first few steps.

44

Launching myself down the stairs, the stench grew worse. Pain radiated around my chest as I patted my trousers in vain, knowing full-well the gun would stare back from the high wall unit in the front room.

Three openings came into view as I raced. The door to the kitchen stood open, the room already explored. The other two white doors straight ahead hung closed, but it was only one of them I wanted to open.

On the last step, I hesitated. Should I turn away and get the gun or charge towards one of doors unarmed, hoping I'd made the right choice and the invasion hadn't already begun?

Knowing I'd delayed too much already, I raced to the first, feeling the lightweight hardboard almost buckle as I used it stop my momentum. My heart sank as I realised it wouldn't last long if it had to be our final barrier.

I stepped back, not taking a breath for fear of the foul air, not knowing what I could do if they were already on the other side. Fragrant air wafted out as I pushed the door open. A toilet glared at me from against the wall while a dark figure drifted past the frosted glass.

I felt the cold draft before I pushed the second door open, before I saw the dead body turn the corner as it swung. The dark wood of the back door was wide toward me, the chill, pungent air striking my bare chest.

Again, I hesitated for what seemed like an age, staring at the mud-caked trainers so close to crossing the threshold.

My gaze rose up the white tracksuit bottoms, following the line of dark holes strafing the legs. Each was ringed in deep scarlet, the wounds tracking up the white body and across the creased, matching tracksuit top, through her left breast before ending at the shoulder. The circles of red widened as the bullet holes rose, their course only just missing her young head.

My gaze hovered for far too long, watching as she stepped forward in slow motion, at least in my head. With eyes clouded white like her hair, her features were grey and sunken, but her lips were bright red with a gloss sheen, like she'd paused for a moment around the corner to add an extra coat.

This was someone's daughter. I looked to her hands, which were much like mine, caked in red, flaking blood, but at least what covered me was not my own. The thought filled me with such guilt;. if it was, then Naomi would be okay. If only it worked like that.

She was a wife, according to the ruby ring on her long slender finger, the nails with a perfect manicure, the covering the same vibrant red as her lips.

The dog broke my spell, barking as another creature appeared the other side of the door frame. I barely saw the Asian guy, only noticing the stub of sharp bone where his right arm should have been.

At last I'd taken the final steps and pushed against the door, heaving the wood as it caught on something solid. Looking down, I saw the woman's trainer, the toes jammed between the door and the frame. I could feel her weight pushing back, building as more joined the stack.

The boy arrived with the gun in his hand, offering it butt first, his eyes wide as he saw my struggle. I couldn't take the weapon without losing my ground, which I was only just holding.

Shaking my head, I felt my anger building inside as I cursed my poor decisions. Why hadn't I checked the back door? Why didn't I go for the gun first?

The corridor grew lighter and I looked up, saw dark shapes shuffling across the windows in the front door. These things knew of our struggle and were heading around the back.

I took a look at the pistol still offered out and made a frightening connection.

The monsters were communicating.

We were going to need bigger guns.

45

With each deep, incessant bark, the glass squares in the door rattled against their lead edging. Pushing hard with my shoulders and hands flat against its surface, I winced as the hinges complained, creaking against the wall.

Stalemate, although I guessed the creatures on the other side could keep it up for longer. My gaze fell to the trainer stuck in the door's path, its mud-covered fabric wedged to the wall. There was only one way the door was going.

I turned my head around the small anteroom to shelves hung along the short walls, then down to where a stout chest freezer sat.

Despite the madness of the effort, I couldn't help but think of the food inside. So much had happened in the last few hours, but in reality it had been barely two days since the start; since we lost those things impossible to live without. Electricity. The internet. Both would be no use right now as a heave from the other side brought back my focus.

I gave a shove in reply, my gaze back on the shelves, roving for weapons. The iron might do, but the rest were useless, the electric mixer nothing but a great doorstop in this new world.

Turning back to the boy, the gun still held by the barrel, he was trying his best to pull the dog back as he growled between each bellow.

The dog needed a name, but he never had a collar to give us a clue. The boy held the dog back, the mutt not pulling out of his hands. The boy turned the gun and