I Dream of Zombies (Book 2): Haven Read Online Free PDF Page A

other. Harold wanted to carry me, yet I refused to slow him down.
    Then they surged at us from the ot her side. Ambushed.
    Harold fought with the baseball bat. It had no effect on the gruesome creature until it fell and he crushed its skull. I watched as all sensation died in my body. Juliana hacked away with her knife and Eleanor with the hatchet. She sheered the arms off one corpse and crushed its head. Blood, brains, the cracking of bone… Screeches filled my head but did not escape my lips. I struggled to shield Edward, my defenceless son.
    Harold’s mouth widened in front of me. Words were said that I could not hear. Juliana fell. Teeth, I remember teeth. Biting. Snapping. And blood. Crimson rose like water all around me. Gurgling noises left Edward as the thing tore into him. Screams ripped through the air, mixing with the most hideous howls. Then I was stumbling, running. Running? I fled while my son shrieked in pain. How could I? But I did not, I remember now: it was Harold and Eleanor who dragged me away.
    Fingers swiped at my back, at my arms. I see their eyes, so empty and streaked with red; hear their groans amid the shrieks. And then Eleanor was gone, sucked away among the grey corpses, pushing them back so we could escape. My daughter’s sacrifice…
    My mind goes blank.
    I remember the river, The Kennett, and a boat full of things, as though its owners had just stepped away; such colourful objects. Shock held me frigid, clutching me in its icy throes. I was not myself.
    We will stay on this boat, Harold told me. This will be our safe place. Try to forget, he said, as though forgetting was an option.
    I stared into oblivion and the silent face of death, tasted his dank breath and wished he would steal me away. Endless torment sounded delicious to me, for I did not deserve to live. Yet Harold told me otherwise. I remember believing him cold, wondering who this man was who could say these things after what had happened to our children, but I know now that he did not forget. Crushed by grief, he needed to save someone. He only wanted me to live.
    Somehow I did. Somehow I pretended to be me.

Tuesday, 18
     
    Marla hesitated outside th e therapist’s office while she glanced up and down the corridor. If anyone appeared she would have to knock, but if nobody did, perhaps she could simply wander away quietly. Feeling like a naughty child about to be found out, she was almost afraid her breathing would signal her presence. Then she rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.
    “Come in!”
    She almost jumped. Discovered anyway! Cursing her luck, Marla turned the metal handle and walked into the room. To her surprise it was painted the brightest of greens, reminiscent of blades of grass beneath strong sunlight. A deep blue rug covered most of the wooden floor. Bookcases swept across an entire wall, packed floor to ceiling with hardbacks. Either side of the single window, a pair of dark green curtains hung undrawn. There was also a matching sofa and two armchairs, upon one of which was perched a bearded man with long, grey hair tied back in a ponytail. He turned his head and gestured for her to take the other chair.
    When Marla hesitated, he stood and offered his hand. “I don’t bite,” he assured her. “My name is Doctor Arnold Baker, although you can call me Arnold.”
    “For a second I thought you were going to say Arnie,” Marla quipped, “and then I would’ve had to laugh.”
    “Like the actor?” asked the man, visibly unamused. “No, definitely not, please take a seat.”
    Marla shook his pasty hand and sat down. The chair was extremely comfortable, and part of her wanted to pick it up and leave.
    “I see every newcomer,” Arnold explained , stroking his beard, “so don’t think for a second that you’ve been singled out. Not to say you aren’t special, because everyone is, but this is routine.”
    Marla shifted in her seat awkwardly. She shoved each hand between the arms of the chair and