The Zombie Saga (Book 3): Burn The Dead: Riot Read Online Free PDF Page B

knocking me almost off my feet. “Watch where you’re going, mate,” I say as I straighten up. But before the man can even respond, he’s through the fire exit, along with the others. I run over to the open door and take a quick look at the people as they dash towards the car park. Where the hell are they going? What’s wrong with these idiots? It can’t be that bad. And where’s the security? Anyone could just walk in. Scanning the outside, I try to see if Hoppy is somehow still lingering. There’s no chance in hell of him being out here, but it’s worth a look. If by a miracle he did manage to make a run for it, I’m sure he’s sat in a pub right now, clean off his face, watching the game.
    Or fighting someone.
    Confused, I close the door and then run over to the stairs. As soon as I’m back out on the stand, into the racket, the blazing sun hits me, blinding me for a second. As the glare fades, I make my way back to my seat. Ginge, Nathan, and Jonny are all bunched up together; their attention fixed on the away fans. “What did I miss?” I ask Ginge
    “Nothing on the field,” he replies, pointing over to the Cardiff section, “but it’s all kicking off over there.”
    I was right! The rivals have somehow managed to break through the barricade of stewards. There’s a mammoth riot heading towards us. I can barely make out what’s happening through the sheer mass of people. “ Jesus ,” I say, shaking my head in astonishment. “What the fuck is wrong with them? They’re bloody winning the game.”
    “I know,” Ginge replies with a giant grin spread across his face. “It’s crazy. They’ve just flipped.”
    I go onto tiptoes and see that the orange glow of stewards has been swallowed up into the crowds of people storming towards us. “Are they fucking mental?” I say. “They’re completely outnumbered.”
    “Fuck, yeah,” Nathan says, his voice filled with eagerness. “They don’t stand a hope in hell. Bring it on, I say.”
    “Something must have pissed them off,” Ginge says, trying to see past a hundred heads, blocking his view of the chaos. “It definitely wasn’t the score.”
    “Come on, you fucking wankers!” Jonny screams in their direction. “Let’s ‘av it!” I can tell by that manic wide-eyed stare that he’s in his element, that nothing would please him more than to get another pop at the opposition.
    Most of the Swansea fans have stopped watching the pitch, as the news of the invasion spreads.
    Checking the game, I gasp in shock when I see hundreds of people invade the pitch—a tidal wave of bodies coming from every side of the stand, engulfing the players and the green grass in seconds. “Oh my God,” I say, barely able to get the words out. “What the fuck is going on? Guys, look at the—” Suddenly, I’m shunted to the floor, Ginge’s heavy body on top, crushing the air from my lungs. As I try to roll him off, more bodies come crashing down in a stampede. Terrified, I manage to wriggle along the stone floor like a wounded animal towards the steps. The noise of the uproar is ear-splitting. I’ve never heard anything like it, even louder than after a win. Just a metre from the aisle, I feel someone’s leather boot press down on my head, pushing my face to the floor. I cry out in agony as my nose is crushed on the concrete by yet another foot, stamping on the back of my head. Nose bleeding, I cover my skull with my arms as if a bomb is about to go off. As I wait for a third foot to finish the job, I feel someone grab my collar and yank me up.
    It’s Ginge. He’s back on his feet, shoving me forward onto the aisle. Caught in a stream of shrieking fans, we’re steered down the steps. I can barely keep my balance as the force behind me increases. More fans join the charge, Ginge’s body pressed tightly against my back, restricting my breathing.
    Just a few steps away from the concourse, I see a suffocating cluster of people frantically trying to open the