Alive? Read online

  Alive?

  Melissa Woods

  Contents

  Content Disclosure

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Afterword

  CTP Email List

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

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Alive?

  Copyright ©2018 Melissa Woods

  All rights reserved.

  Summary: Everyone knows the first rule of the zombie apocalypse: Don't. Get. Bitten. Too bad Violet has never been great at following the rules. She manages to let one of the Dead take a chunk out of her only hours after they've begun walking again. Fortunately for Violet, she doesn't die. Unfortunately for Violet—she's not exactly alive either...

  ISBN: 978-1-63422-310-2 (paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-63422-311-9 (e-book)

  Cover Design by: Marya Heidel

  Typography by: Courtney Knight

  Editing by: Cynthia Shepp

  For more information about our content disclosure,

  please click on the picture above or visit us at

  www.CleanTeenPublishing.com.

  Violet Winter was dead.

  Probably.

  Possibly.

  To be honest, she wasn’t quite clear about it yet. All she knew was that ever since being bitten by the zombie, things had started to get weird.

  As she stood there with warm blood drying on her fingers and bits of someone’s face in her teeth, she decided that making the choice to take the shortcut through the woods might not have been the best one.

  Violet’s phone buzzed angrily in her pocket. She groaned, pulling it out and jabbing at the buttons. It was her alarm, playing the irritating tune that came pre-programmed, which, after three years, she still had no idea how to change. Violet had never been exactly blessed when it came to understanding technology.

  After at least forty-five seconds of the jangly tune, she finally managed to silence the thing. It was only then she began to take in her surroundings. Simultaneously, she realized two very important facts; she wasn’t in her bedroom, and that wasn’t her hand resting on her thigh.

  Violet wriggled free of whoever had passed out beside her, and then climbed off the couch she’d been sleeping on. The snoring man didn’t wake up. Violet groaned, running her hand through her tangled brown hair. This party had certainly not been her idea.

  “It’ll be fun,” her best friend had promised. “And you owe me after going to that weird fetish thing with you.”

  “That was a sci-fi convention! You enjoyed it,” Violet had protested.

  “No, Violet, it was weird. Some man dressed as a bear kept trying to pick me up and carry me around.”

  “You know he was a Wookie.”

  Amy had waved her hand at that. “In any case, you owe me. You’re coming to this party!”

  And so Violet had gone to the party. She had worn a dress and pretended to have fun, when all she’d been thinking about was getting back to her room and losing herself in a horror movie or playing a video game. But she supposed she’d experienced one of the things that seventeen-year-old girls were supposed to do. Even if she never planned on doing it again.

  Violet glanced around. The whole living room looked like something out of a disaster movie. Bottles and cans littered the floor, as well as every available surface. Food, drink, and what was almost certainly vomit were soaked into the carpet, which appeared to have been expensive before.

  Probably not so much now.

  The walls were covered in… Violet didn’t want to think about what the walls were covered in. Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t going to impress Fiona’s parents when they got back from their weekend away. Violet got to her feet, deciding it was probably best not to be there when they returned. She grabbed her sweater and hurriedly pulled it on, not thrilled with the fact it was damp—for some reason she didn’t want to ponder.

  Amy wasn’t one of the two people asleep on the couch, and she wasn’t on the floor with the three other sleeping bodies either. Violet wondered whether Amy might’ve been upstairs, but she was in no hurry to explore whatever delights might be found in the rest of the house.

  Maybe some lovely used needles or a corpse?

  She decided to leave without her friend. Amy was a big girl, and a veteran of parties like this. She’d be able to get home without Violet’s help. Amy wasn’t exactly in her good books after the events of the previous evening anyway. She had decided to trust her ‘good friend’ and come to the party. She also trusted Amy when she handed her a glass of purple liquid, looked her dead in the eye, and said, “Trust me, Violet, it’s practically lemonade now; they’ve watered it down so much!”

  It seemed Amy’s definition of ‘lemonade’ wasn’t the same as hers. She had no memory of anything that had happened after her first cup.

  Violet began a brief search of the vomit-room for her handbag. She saw it caught underneath a sleeping man with blond dreadlocks and a plaited beard. When she gently pulled at the strap, the bag seemed to be lodged securely under his stomach. She sighed, pulling harder. Still nothing. She wasn’t overly keen on waking him up, but she needed her bag. Violet gave one last tug, as hard as she could, and it finally flew out from underneath him. He groaned, but didn’t open his eyes.

  “Not cool,” he mumbled, rolling onto his side and beginning to snore.

  The hallway was in no better shape than the living room. There were more mystery stains on the walls, and a sour smell in the air: a mixture of vomit and urine. She shuddered to imagine what happened last night.

  Never again. Next time Amy tries to convince you to go to a party, tell her the truth—you’d rather stick pins in your eyes.

  She found the front door and stepped into the fresh air, shivering slightly at the cold. The damp sweater wasn’t much help, but it was at least hiding part of the sequined monstrosity Amy insisted she wear. Amy had said everyone would be dressed up. She’d lied.

  Violet turned back to the house once she reached the road, pulling the short dress down self-consciously. From outside, the damage didn’t seem too bad. The windows were intact, though one of them was wide open and had a roll of toilet paper trailing from the second floor to the garden. The garden itself was a little torn up from the number of cars that had been parked the night before. There weren’t many vehicles left. Most people had gone home hours ago, with only the most hardcore group staying. And Violet. But that wasn’t exactly a testament to her staying power; she’d just passed out in the first available space. At ten PM.

  The street was quiet. Violet glanced at her watch. Eight o’clock. It was Sunday, too, so she wasn’t really surprised to be standing outside alone. She planned to be home and in bed h
erself within twenty minutes, so she decided to take the shortcut through the woods. The entrance was only a few meters from the house, but upon reaching the tree line, she suddenly found herself frozen in place. The morning was dark, the clouds heavy and ominous, and the woods felt more than a little uninviting. Violet scolded herself. She walked through the woods to school every day, but something felt wrong this morning. Shaking her head, she tried to clear the thoughts, before heading down the familiar path.

  She felt her phone vibrate again. It was a message from Amy.

  Amy: Sorry I disappeared! Not feeling well, so I’m going home. Don’t worry, I’ve got someone with me. Couldn’t find you, so guessing you’re still having fun! Call me later. XX

  The message had been sent hours ago. Why had she only just gotten it? She was glad Amy was okay, but couldn’t help but be a little annoyed her friend hadn’t made more of an effort to locate her. When Amy had sent the message, Violet wasn’t ‘still having fun’. She was where she’d been for most of the night—passed out on the couch. And surely Amy knew her well enough to know she would never be able to outlast her at a party. Violet continued into the woods, mentally composing the sarcastic reply she would send later.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by something bumping into her leg. She looked down, more than a little surprised to see a small white dog sitting at her feet. It had scruffy fur and huge brown eyes. She smiled, momentarily forgetting the empty threats she’d been making about Amy, and knelt to stroke its head. She’d always liked dogs.

  This one was covered in dirt, and had several twigs entwined in its fur. Violet read the tag on its collar—Ben. The dog wagged his tail as she said his name. “Where’s your owner, then?” she asked, scanning the trees. There was no one around, and she couldn’t hear anyone calling his name. She got up and continued a little further, Ben trotting beside her.

  After a few minutes, and with no sign of an owner, Violet was beginning to wonder what to do with the dog. Should she take him home? It didn’t feel right to leave him. She reached for her phone, deciding to call the number on the collar, but there was no signal.

  Stupid nature blocking the satellites.

  She glanced up, realizing Ben had trotted on ahead. She decided to follow. It wasn’t like she had any other plans for the day.

  Or tomorrow.

  Or any other day.

  Okay, Violet, we get it, you’re a loser.

  After several more minutes, Violet and the dog reached a fallen tree. She noticed a strange smell in the air, something she didn’t recognize, thick and terrible. Ben moved behind the tree, and Violet followed. When she saw what he found, she felt like the air had been kicked out of her. On the ground was a woman, lying on her back in the dirt. Her stomach had been ripped open so wide Violet could see every organ left in her body. There weren’t many. Some were scattered around her; the rest were just gone. The woman’s bloodied fingers were curled, as if she’d been trying to fight back. Her eyes were open, and her mouth was wide, contorted in an expression of pure horror.

  Violet choked, not even realizing she’d been holding her breath, and sucked in a huge lungful of air. The dog sat beside the woman, whimpering quietly and pressing its nose against her hand. For a few minutes, Violet couldn’t move, frozen in place. Coming back to reality, she grabbed her phone and dialed 911. She still had no signal, but remembered reading somewhere an emergency call could be made without it.

  It was busy.

  How can it be busy?

  Violet suddenly felt furious. Then scared. She had no idea what to do. She’d been prepped on ‘strange men,’ and ‘keeping safe when walking home,’ but no one had ever given her the ‘so you’ve found a dead body in the woods’ talk.

  Violet’s next thought was to run home and get her parents, before remembering they were visiting family in Australia. She groaned loudly, trying 911 again and getting the same busy tone.

  As she frantically tried to decide what to do next, a terrible thought occurred to her.

  Whoever killed that woman could still be in the woods.

  Her heart began to race. She spun around, searching for any sign of movement. There was nothing, but she wasn’t going to wait around to be ripped open. The dog whimpered again, pawing at the woman’s arm. Violet moved closer, as close to the body as she was willing to get.

  “Come on,” she whispered, barely hearing her own voice. “Come on, Ben.”

  I’ll take the dog home, and then call the police. I can bring them here, but I’m not staying alone.

  But the dog wouldn’t move. Violet bit her lip before spotting a blue leash on the ground. She grabbed it and clipped it to the dog’s collar. A snap behind her—a twig? Had Violet trying to turn so fast she stumbled. She fell forward, holding out her free hand to stop from falling straight onto the corpse. Her hand touched the dead woman, and she recoiled as if scalded.

  It was still warm. The woman hadn’t been dead long. Whoever killed her had to be close by.

  Violet staggered to her feet, pulling Ben away from the body. He fought against it a little at first, but soon fell into step at her side. She tried to retrace her steps back to the main path, but it was hard to focus because her mind was such a mess. Every noise set her heart racing.

  The killer is still in the woods.

  The killer is still in the woods.

  She tried to keep calm and think about anything that wasn’t the dead body behind her. The most complicated thing she could conjure up to distract herself was a movie she’d watched a few weeks ago with Amy called Shadow Ghosts. It had made no sense, and it had been so full of twists the two girls had got completely lost. This seemed to work as a distraction, and Violet managed to keep her mind off her possible impending death. Mostly.

  Soon, she was back on the path, feeling a little less stressed about the mutilated corpse. Until another sound, a rustling, broke through. But it wasn’t the wind; Violet was sure of it. She didn’t think it was an animal either.

  Something’s behind me.

  She wanted to run. Or at least start walking. In fact, any kind of movement would’ve been preferable to her chosen action, which was to stand still and do nothing. But that appeared to be all she was capable of at that moment.

  Great. Just pretend to be invisible; that’ll keep you safe.

  So there she was, excelling at doing nothing, when Ben turned around to face their follower. He began to growl. Violet, realizing she could not simply freeze her way out of this one, turned around, too.

  It was a man. He wasn’t the large, imposing Jack-the-Ripper type she’d been half expecting. In fact, he was almost the exact opposite. Thin—scrawny, really—with unkempt red hair and pimpled skin. He wore a shirt with the name of an obscure band on it, and was missing a shoe. He didn’t seem to have a weapon, but Violet knew he was the killer. She could just sense it.

  Plus, his shirt, hands, and mouth were stained with blood.

  Boom. You’ve just been detected, murderer!

  Her heart began to race as she came to the realization this man might just decide to kill her, too.

  Be calm. He doesn’t know you know.

  But then, he dropped his gaze to the dog.

  He’ll recognize the dog.

  “I…I just found him in the woods,” Violet stuttered, trying to make her voice sound calm. “I’m trying to find his owner. Have you seen anyone?”

  Have you, perhaps, killed and eaten anyone?

  She knew he didn’t believe her. His glazed eyes just stared, unblinking, into her own. He swayed slightly, like he was drunk. Then his lips curled upward to reveal his bloodstained teeth.

  Run.

  The word popped into her head, surrounded with flashing neon lights, and booming out as though someone were shouting it. She did as she was told, running as fast as she could in the opposite direction. Ben was faster, practically pulling her along with him. She could hear the man chasing her. Violet had never been a particularly good runner, but she knew
she was almost at the main road. Surely he couldn’t hurt her if there were witnesses?

  It was a nice thought, but when Violet cleared the tree line, she realized just how wrong she was.

  It was chaos. The street was awash with crashed cars, people running into or out of their houses, fighting, screaming. So much screaming. There was smoke coming out of a house a few doors down. She could see people trapped inside. Just a few feet away from where she stood, there was a woman on the ground. There were four people around her, ripping her open just like the body in the woods. They were pulling out her insides and eating them. Violet had watched enough zombie movies to know what this was, but she couldn’t believe it.

  Her hand slackened, and the leash whipped through her fingers. She watched, numb, as the dog ran to the corner and disappeared. There was a hiss from behind her, and she turned just in time to see her drooling friend from the woods. He was so close, seconds from grabbing her. She ran, stumbling past other people. No one stopped to help; everyone was too busy trying to save themselves. Violet saw a family up ahead fleeing toward a house, and she called out for them to hold the door, to let her in. But they slammed it shut as she approached, so she had to run again.

  She jumped over an overturned stroller, and then past a group of zombies hammering on the windows of a car. There were two men in the front, and a woman in the back. The engine was spluttering and gurgling, but wouldn’t start. As she passed, she heard glass breaking.

  Violet could see another house with its door open, but no sign of anyone nearby. She ran as fast as she could, her legs starting to give out after a whole thirty seconds of cardio. She made it up the path and inside, turning to slam the door. But the man was close, and he got halfway through before she could close it fully.