Burn The Dead: Riot: Book Three

Prologue I used to love this time of year. Lazy days sitting out with the boys, drinking beer, watching the girls go by. No rain, no shitty cold weather—just the summer sun roasting our Welsh skin. Paradise. But not today, though. Because today is the day that I die. I step out onto the thin ledge, my heart beating hard against my chest. I haven’t been this high up since I was a kid. It takes me back to when I was ten, scaling the multi-storey car park like an i***t. That was the first time I got arrested. Back then it was a badge of honour. Those days are gone. The wind is strong at this height. It shunts my body, but I manage to keep my balance. At least it’s not raining; at least I won’t slip. The last thing I want is to go off too early. I want to go on my terms. I shouldn’t look down—only straight ahead at the night sky. But I can’t resist the temptation. From up here, the ground feels a million miles away. But it’s not; it’s just the haze, and the fear, twisting my insides like a corkscrew. Jump, Alfie! Don’t be afraid! You can do it. You have to. You’re out of options. Time is almost up. You can’t stay here anymore. It’s over! Wendy’s face pops into my head. I try not to let it, but it’s the only face I truly know. And she’s the only person that really knows me. If I had any parents—or a real family—I guess I’d see their faces instead. But I don’t, and Wendy is the closest thing I have to a mother. So I can’t shake off the image—my mind won’t allow it. I creep forward, the ground now an abyss of darkness, a gateway to Hell. No, it’s not a gateway. I’m already there. And I’ve been there all my life. Today is just the last straw. And now it’s time. That great summer smell has gone, replaced by the stink of rotting bodies and disease. And there’s nothing left to do now. Only jump… Part I Drinking With The Enemy