Dead Days: The Complete Season Two Collection by Ryan Casey

source of the voice. It was a man, or a boy, rather, no older than eighteen. He had fiery ginger hair and flushed cheeks. He was standing by a partly open door. A caravan door. Riley was…‌‌He was inside a caravan. Back inside a caravan. They’d taken him to a caravan for some reason.
    “I…‌” Riley struggled to pull himself upright, but he realised how weak his muscles were. His legs barely budged. His arms flopped to his side. Getting off this bed was going to take too much effort and energy. Energy he didn’t have.
    He was stuck here. Trapped.
    “You might want to watch it there,” the ginger guy said, moving over to Riley and placing a hand on his shoulder to edge him back onto the bed. “You’ve been right in the wars. You need to rest‌—‌”
    “My…‌‌my friends. My…‌” Riley’s speech was slurred. Fuck. Had they drugged him? He thought back to Ivan. Thought back to the trusting smile on his face, no hints of what hid behind. He couldn’t come that close again. Another group‌—‌they couldn’t trust them. They were the reason they’d stayed at sea. The creatures, sure, they were too.
    But other people used logic. That was much more terrifying than any damage a creature could do.
    The man patted Riley on his shoulder then looked down at his leg. “Your friend is okay. Fine, actually. He told us all about what happened. The boat. Your little shrapnel incident. Lucky for you, we’ve got some good people here who’ve already got that metal right out of your leg. You should be fine, patient.” He smiled at Riley and walked over to the doorway.
    “Who…‌‌who are…‌?”
    “Well, me personally? I’m Stevie. Stevie Cannon. Yes, yes, pornstar name, etcetera etcetera. Heard it all before. I believe you’re Riley. Right?”
    Riley gulped. He avoided eye contact with Stevie, then nodded.
    “Riley. Nice to meet you. Now rest up.” Stevie pushed open the glass door and a breeze from outside worked its way in. Riley could just about see a few faces gathered around the door, peeking in for a look at him. They looked decidedly normal, from the glimpse he got.
    But normal was a great form of disguise. Invaluable.
    “My…‌‌my friends.” Riley struggled to get himself off what appeared to be a makeshift bed in the middle of an empty caravan. Curtains were closed. The room had a medicinal smell. “You…‌‌you have to let me see Pedro. I need to know he’s‌—‌”
    “Sorry,” Stevie said, stopping as he walked out of the caravan. “I don’t have the authority to authorise that.”
    Riley’s body tensed. The authority to authorise? Which meant that there was a hierarchical system in place. Just like the barracks. Fuck‌—‌he’d have been better taking his chances on his own. Better on his own than in numbers. Numbers caused problems. People were never designed to be in large groups, not really.
    “You need to let me see him. I need to know he’s…‌‌he’s…‌”
    “Stevie, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
    The voice came from beyond Stevie. Riley couldn’t see the source of the voice, but it sounded American. American, just like…‌‌yes. The man that had stepped out of that Land Rover. He’d definitely had an American twang to his voice.
    The American continued: “If he wants to see his friend, you let him see his goddamn friend, okay?”
    Stevie’s head lowered. He mumbled a few words then skulked away. He looked completely humbled. A shadow of his charismatic self just moments before.
    “I don’t know, that man has a lot to learn.” The American stepped in through the doorway and looked right at Riley. He had a grey moustache and lengthy greying hair down his neck. He was muscular, wearing a white vest and a camouflage cap on his head. He looked like he’d just stepped out of an audition for Bruce Willis’s part in Die Hard.
    And, well, he’d unsurprisingly failed.
    “Riley, I believe?” He walked over to Riley and held