Nightfall (The Daylight Cycle Book 4) Read online

  NIGHTFALL

  The Daylight Cycle, Book 4

  A Zombie Novel by Kody Boye

  Nightfall

  (Daylight, #4)

  By Kody Boye

  Copyright © 2018. All Rights reserved

  Edited by Holly Ann Kasprzak

  Cover art by Corey Hollins

  Interior formatting by Kody Boye

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronically, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the proper written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events and situation are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  It was not uncommon for her to dream. Before all of this—before the end of the world—Rose had dreamed often about life as it was and life as it might eventually be. Her life outside Liverpool, her studies as an architectural student, her family back in America—all had been staples within her mind’s eye, calculated and focused.

  Now, though, she only dreamed of them.

  The undead.

  In her dream, she looked out at the desolate wasteland beyond Fort Hope’s high walls and tried desperately to find solace in her safety. Distantly, she could see the undead, meandering about their meaningless existences as they made their way across the forgotten world; and as she watched them, silently considering her place upon planet Earth, she wondered if she may someday join them.

  No, she was quick to think. I won’t join them.

  But she couldn’t know—not now, not after everything that had happened. There’d been Mary, then the people on the boat, and now, more recently, Erik. Nothing was set in stone, especially in a land ravaged like North America. Not anymore.

  Watching them, from her place on the private school’s roof, she tried to find purpose in a life that seemed purposeless.

  Then she awoke, and realized then that nothing had changed.

  It was still early in the morning when she opened her eyes to take in the sights around her. Light barely shone through the high windows that looked out from the gymnasium. People still slept. A guard’s footsteps, solemn in their approach, remained monotonous in her ears. She pushed herself into a sitting position and tightened her hair in the ponytail it was in and turned her attention toward her sleeping best friend.

  Lyra.

  Oh sweet Lyra. How wonderful it was to be back and with her friend—in a place where she knew she was safe, at least for the indeterminable while. She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else at that moment.

  Sighing, Rose slipped her feet over the side of the bed and reached for the slippers she’d stuffed under her cot. They were a precious find in a world that had been so carelessly picked over by the vultures in the world, and though selfish in her longing for them, they at least brought her some measure of comfort.

  For now, she thought. Before somebody steals them.

  She stood, and after stretching her arms over her head, carefully maneuvered her way through the cots until she came to stand in the threshold leading out of the gymnasium.

  The guard—tired after his overnight shift—gave her a brief nod as she made her way out of the quarters and down the hall.

  Though still reacquainting herself with the school’s layout, it didn’t take long for her to maneuver through the many hallways and passages. Once in the stairwell that led to the roof, she made her way up and then stole out through the roof access door.

  Outside—in the cold, late winter air—Rose considered the world before her, realizing then that it was not entirely unlike her dream.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” a voice asked.

  She jumped, startled. She turned just in time to find Corporal Jamie Marks standing against the wall, a cigarette below his mustached lips and an assault rifle braced in a sling along his side.

  “It wasn’t that I couldn’t sleep,” she replied, trailing her eyes from his, to the cigarette, then back to his eyes again. “It’s just…”

  “What?” Jamie asked.

  “Can I have a drag?”

  The man extended the cigarette toward her. “Be my guest.”

  “I’ll try and bring more back the next time I go out,” she said, inhaling from the cigarette and sighing as the smoke burned into her lungs.

  “You know that the army has taken over the supply runs.”

  “You can’t expect me to just sit around and play housemaid all day,” she replied. “I can shoot. I can fight.”

  “I know you can, but that doesn’t mean—”

  Rose lifted a hand. “Don’t argue with me,” she said. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

  Jamie said nothing. He merely shifted his eyes to the world beyond her and said, “Keep your voice down.”

  “I take it they’re out there, aren’t they?”

  “Aren’t they always?” he asked. A grin parted his lips as he extended his hand to take the cigarette Rose passed back and sighed as he took a drag of his own.

  “I thought Dakota hated it when you smoked?” Rose asked.

  “He does,” Jamie replied. “It just gives me something to do. Something to keep my brain focused on something other than… well… all of this.” He spread his free hand out before him and focused his attention on Rose once more. “What about you? I bet you’re happy to be back, especially with your friend Lyra.”

  “It’s been a week and I feel like I’ve been here an eternity,” she replied. “But yes. I’m happy to be back. Happy to be moderately safe.”

  “I hear you, sister.”

  A wicked howl rose in the distance, followed by the sound of several gunshots. Rose shifted her eyes just in time to see a group of shambling dead careen their heads about and turn to make their way toward the unforeseeable distance.

  “Should I go get someone?” Rose asked.

  “No,” Jamie replied. “Not like anyone could reach them with the north bridge down. And besides—it’s not like we haven’t left flyers out stating that Fort Hope is a designated safe-zone.”

  “I know,” she said. “It’s just… I wish there was more we could do to help the people outside the walls.”

  “We don’t want the bad seeds getting in,” Jamie said. “You can only imagine what might happen if the wrong people got in here.”

  “I could,” Rose agreed, brushing her hands across the section of flesh not shielded by her T-shirt. She expelled a breath and reached up to push a strand of hair away from her face before turning to face the man. “Jamie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’ll vouch for me—I mean, if I want to go. Right?”

  “Of course I will,” he replied. “If you really feel it’s your purpose to go out into the field and help bring back supplies, no one—especially me—is going to stop you.”

  “I hope not,” she replied. “I feel like I need to do something. Being stuck inside all the time is starting to drive me bonkers.”

  “Do you miss it?” Jamie asked.

  “Miss what?” Rose frowned.

  “The freedom. I mean, out there?”

  She did—at least, in part—but she wasn’t about to refuse warm meals and safety in numbers, especially when those some of those numbers happened to be heavily-armed soldiers with guns and bullets that could last a lifetime.

  “I think I’m going to head back down,” Rose said after a short moment of contem
plation, “if that’s all right.”

  “Fine with me,” Jamie replied. “It’s still early anyway. You could probably catch another hour of sleep before they start rounding people up for the next supply run.”

  “Yeah,” Rose said, grimacing as another gunshot went off somewhere in the distance. “I guess.”

  She doubted she’d sleep. She doubted even if she’d be able to fight off nightmares after being out on the wall. Regardless, though, she had to try, especially if she intended on going out in the field.

  With a short nod and a wave goodbye, Rose turned and made her way back into the school.

  Once in the gymnasium, she removed the slippers from her feet, padded barefoot across the cool vinyl flooring, then slipped back into bed.

  “Hey,” Lyra whispered from where she and E.J’s cots rested side-by-side. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Rose lied. “Go back to sleep.”

  Her friend mumbled something unintelligible beneath her breath, then was snoring a short moment later.

  After tucking herself back into her small cot, Rose closed her eyes and prayed for the best.

  Sadly, her dreams were no different than before.

  Nightmares dominated the landscape of her mind—and, unfortunately, probably always would.

  *

  Dappled sunlight filtered in through the high windows and landed across Dakota Travis’ lower back. Awoken, gently, by its warming rays, he opened his eyes to find that Jamie still had not returned and sighed as he rolled onto his back.

  Well, he thought, inhaling a breath through his nose and expelling it out his mouth. Just another day in the neighborhood.

  Though it was still early, and people had yet to truly awaken for the day, he knew that he would eventually be forced to rise and take part in the daily activities that occurred within Fort Hope. For that reason, he rolled his legs over the side of his cot, reached down to grab the shirt he’d carefully folded beneath it, and pulled it over his head just in time for footsteps to greet him.

  “Morning, sleepyhead,” Steve said.

  Dakota lifted his eyes to find the man looking directly at him—eyes tired, face covered in several days’ worth of stubble.

  “Hey,” Dakota replied, standing. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Still getting used to the cots here,” he replied, casting a glance back to where Desmond continued to sleep. “You?”

  “I slept fine.”

  “You sure? You don’t look it.”

  Dakota didn’t say anything. While he was loathe to admit it, he hadn’t gotten used to the fact that Jamie was not sleeping next to him most nights. Work called. The guard needed to be constant. And most nights were spent struggling to fall asleep on a cot that should have had another person in the one next to it.

  “I’m fine,” Dakota lied. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Suit yourself,” Steve said, then shrugged as he turned his attention toward the threshold that led out of the gymnasium. “Should we try and go get ourselves something to eat before we’re conscripted to manual labor?”

  “Might as well,” Dakota said, falling into place beside his friend as they made their way out the door and down the hall.

  “Have they given you your work assignment yet?”

  “Not yet,” Dakota replied, shrugging his hands into his pockets as they rounded their first corner. “I think they were trying to figure out what to do with me.”

  “Did you tell them you had a green thumb?”

  “I said I helped grow stuff when we were in South Dakota,” he replied. “As to me having a green thumb… I’m not so sure that’s the case.”

  “You were always good in greenhouse in high school.”

  “Yeah, but… they’ve got more than enough people growing and gathering food. I’m guessing I’ll probably end up doing something really shitty.”

  “Like what?”

  “Digging latrines.”

  Steve wrinkled his nose, but didn’t say anything. “Well,” he offered, “I could always try and get you a job in the garage, but I don’t know how the boss will feel about it.”

  “You know I can’t work on cars.”

  “I know, but it’d be better than being out in this fucking weather digging shitholes.”

  “I hear you there,” Dakota sighed.

  Steve paused in the threshold leading into the cafeteria and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll figure something out,” he said, pulling Dakota into a one-armed hug. “I have faith in you.”

  “Thanks, Steve.”

  “No problem, bud.” Steve lifted his head and inhaled the scent of eggs. “Now… let’s get something to eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  Though Dakota wanted to agree with his friend, his appetite had slipped away, slithering from the pit of his gut like a snake in some far-off jungle. His desperation for purpose was something monumental, considering he’d come into this world with no real skills other than surviving. He could barely cook, and besides his knack for tending to plants, had no real skills beyond that. He knew he’d get stuck with something menial—something mundane.

  Unlike Rose, he thought. Or Jamie. Or Steve.

  They at least had skills they could depend upon—talents that would actually be useful. Him? He’d just end up digging latrines.

  Unless…

  He swallowed.

  Unless, he was loathe to think, he returned to the field.

  It was something that had crossed his mind several times during their short stay here—something that, for all its perils, would secure within him a sense of purpose that would leave him able to sleep without guilt at night. The only problem was: Jamie would kill him.

  “He said not to go outside the wall,” Dakota mumbled.

  “What was that?” Steve asked, turning.

  Dakota shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “Don’t worry about—”

  It, he wanted to finish, but stopped as his eyes focused on a sight before him.

  A lone soldier sat in the corner of the room. But unlike those attending dinner, he sat before a display, one that featured a map of Rhode Island and its surrounding sectors. Beside of it was a simple poster that said, MAKE A DIFFERENCE. JOIN THE RUNNER’S CORPS.

  “Dakota?” Steve asked, stepping forward. “What’re you—” The man stopped as his eyes fell on the sight. “No. Don’t even think about it.”

  “Steve—”

  “Jamie would kill you, Dakota. And me.”

  “And you?” Dakota laughed, spinning to face his friend. “What does this have to do with you?”

  Sighing, Steve reached up to brush his fringe out of his eyes, then ran a hand down his stubbly face. “Jamie told me to keep an eye on you,” Steve said. “To keep you out of trouble. To make sure that you were safe.”

  “I need to do something, Steve.”

  “Yeah, but that?” He gestured to the soldier and his display. “You can do so many things, Dakota.”

  “Digging shitholes isn’t glamorous, Steve. You said so yourself.”

  “I was kidding!” the man cried. “Please, Dakota. Jamie said he’d shoot my nuts off if I let you do something stupid.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “Kinda hard not to believe a man with an assault rifle,” Steve replied, then shook his head. He reached out, took hold of Dakota’s collar, then pulled him close so that only they could hear. “Don’t. Even. Think. About. It.”

  “I. Already. Have. You can’t stop me, Steve.”

  “At least talk it over with Jamie first, Dakota. Maybe he can get you guard duty.”

  That was the thing: he didn’t want guard duty. He wanted to help people in ways that would benefit their community. He wanted to salvage tools, secure food, locate clothes and blankets and other necessities that could get them through the winter. He wanted something to be proud of himself for. And this—this was it.

  Dakota stepped forward.

  Groaning, St
eve followed.

  “Hello gentlemen,” the soldier said as they approached. “Here to sign up?”

  “He is,” Steve said, pointing at Dakota with an indignant scowl. “I already have a job.”

  “I’d like to know what the Runner’s Corps are all about,” Dakota said. “I take it you guys are the ones who run the supply missions?”

  “We are,” the military man replied. “I take it you’re familiar with our line of work then?”

  “Only from what I’ve heard around the fort.”

  “And you’re interested in potentially joining up?” the man asked, leaning forward.

  “Yes sir,” Dakota said, swallowing. “I am.”

  The man eyed him up and down, sizing him up with his impenetrable gaze—likely, Dakota imagined, to determine any weakness. He’d done this before. This much was already obvious. But knowing that he was being scrutinized so visibly was definitely unnerving.

  “So,” the man said, returning his eyes to Dakota’s face. “Do you have any experience making supply runs into heavily-infected areas?”

  “From my time outside the walls,” Dakota nodded. “Yes. I do.”

  “So if you were deemed fit by myself and a group of other individuals, would you be willing to go out into the field, risk your life for your fellow men, and do it repeatedly when required, not just on a one-time basis?”

  “I would,” Dakota said.

  “Good,” the man replied, pushing a signup sheet forward. “Sign here.”

  “Dakota,” Steve growled.

  “You can’t stop me, Steve,” Dakota replied.

  “He can’t,” a voice said. “But I sure as hell can.”

  “Corporal Marks,” the military man said as Jamie entered. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “I noticed my partner wasn’t in bed and thought I’d come investigate,” Jamie said, turning his eyes on Dakota. “It’s a good thing I did. Dakota—a word.”

  Dakota ground his jaw together and approached, but not without giving the man encouraging him to sign up for the Runner’s Corps a nod.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Jamie asked when they were in relative privacy a few feet away.