Dead Days: Season 3 (Books 13-18) by Ryan Casey Page B

suddenly disinterested in Chris.
    There was a moment of sheer stasis as Pedro stared at the hundreds of silent goons; as the goons stared at Pedro.
    But it was only a moment, because they launched themselves in Pedro’s direction, not a groan coming from the bloodied mouths of any of them…‌

Chapter Ten: Riley
    Alan came out of the bathroom looking a completely different man to the one that’d gone in.
    He’d shaved his bristly beard off completely, revealing a younger, red-cheeked face. He’d snipped at his grey hair too, and although he was hardly sporting the most fashionable or cohesive haircut, he’d taken twenty years off himself. Before, Riley would’ve had him down as in his seventies. Now, his fifties, perhaps.
    Alan plonked himself down in the wheelchair. He had a blue rucksack on his lap stuffed with food, entertainment, guns, all sorts. It was alright for Alan‌—‌he was just being chauffeured through a tunnel. He could relax. Not so much for Riley. Not quite as enjoyable.
    “I still don’t see why we can’t just drive a car through this tunnel,” Riley said, sighing as he tensed to push Alan closer to the open tunnel door, the dark, dimly lit expanse lying ahead.
    Alan sniggered. “First sight of a car we get, we can drive one. But don’t get your hopes up too high down here.”
    Riley bit into his lip as he got used to the weight of Alan and his rucksack in the wheelchair. Shit. This was going to take longer than they thought. Days, let alone hours. The rifle strapped to Riley’s left shoulder wasn’t helping either. “Let’s just get a move on then.”
    As Riley pushed his way through the tunnel door, the noise of Alan’s wheels echoed around the tunnel. Just stepping inside it gave Riley a new sense of the sheer expanse of this thing‌—‌it was cold, for one. Cold, and dark, and it left a damp taste in the mouth. There was a musty smell in the air, not as bad as a sewer, but barely present. Underfoot, there was a metal pathway, which felt slippery.
    Riley nearly plummeted forward as Alan slammed his feet down onto the ground.
    “Jesus, what are you…‌”
    Alan was looking over his shoulder. Looking back at the light coming from the bunker. Being inside this tunnel, it was like the bunker was a million miles away even though it was only a few feet. But not for long. Not for much longer. Not when they got going.
    “Close the door,” Alan said.
    Riley stepped away from Alan’s wheelchair. Yanked back the heavy door, taking one final look around the bunker.
    The television. The computer. The air conditioning. It wasn’t a bad place, not really. It was safe. One of the safest places on earth.
    But he had bigger things to worry about than mere safety.
    He pulled with all his strength and the door clattered shut, sending a huge series of echoes down the tunnel.
    Darkness surrounded him. Darkness, but for the dim, flickery lights lining the top of the tunnel roof all the way down, into infinity. Now, in the darkness, it really did feel like he was in a cave, as water dripped somewhere in the distance, sheer silence reminiscent of some alien land.
    “Just so you know, there’s no going back through that door,” Alan said. “Not without someone on the other side.”
    Riley turned back to Alan. Shook his head. “Thought there might be a catch. Nice of you to tell me in advance.”
    Alan, with his new, younger face, smiled. “If I told you, would you have come?”
    Riley didn’t answer. He wasn’t even sure himself, but he knew what Alan was getting at.
    He took a few steps back up to the wheelchair and grabbed the handles. Tensed again, and pushed, getting into the flow as the wheels squeaked and rattled against the echoey metal flooring.
    “Our first pit stop is in Lancaster,” Alan said, his every word echoing. “Around four, five hours. Twelve miles.”
    “What’s in Lancaster?” Riley asked. In truth, he was quite intimidated by the tunnel. Still not completely