Pestilence: A Post Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (Surviving the Virus Book 8)

by Ryan Casey

  It was late. He was exhausted. Walking all damned day and with no luck. Or at least there had been some luck, apparently. A sighting of a man, a woman, a girl, and a dog. The man and the girl matched Noah and Iqrah’s descriptions. They got captured by some of Colin’s buddies from down Birmingham way; God knows why they were this far up north. Managed to even get them into a nice van for a ride down to the labs.

  And yet, somehow, the inept fuckers had still screwed up.

  Noah and Iqrah had slipped the net. Even restrained. Even pumped with that experimental juice that supposedly suppressed those “abilities” of theirs.

  Gone.

  He looked at the black van up ahead. The windows were smashed. The door to the back of it was open, ajar. Infected were splayed across the front of it and lay in the road before it. Looked like the scene of a massacre here. Blood everywhere. The smell of rot in the air. Flies buzzing around, even in the darkness, moths fluttering in his torchlight.

  He gritted his teeth, tensed his jaw, and tried to keep his cool.

  “I just don’t understand how they can just disappear,” Colin said.

  Emmanuel scratched his head and avoided Colin’s stare. He’d known Emmanuel for about a year now, ever since they picked him up wandering around No Man’s Land. Colin had always found him a fucking liability in all truth. He wasn’t cut out to be a Society guard. Way too complacent. Always fucking up, whether it was the small things like a little lateness here and there, or the bigger things like this.

  And Colin knew there was only so long the powers that be could make excuses for Emmanuel. He certainly wasn’t going to fight his corner, if and when that day came.

  “You w-weren’t here, man,” Emmanuel said, in that annoying, high-pitched whine. “Serious. You weren’t here. And—and if you were, you’d’ve seen. It was chaos. C-chaos.”

  “I know it was chaos. I don’t doubt that. I can see things got rather hectic here. But that doesn’t answer my question. They were captured. They were restrained. And they got away. Even though you were here, they got away. How does that happen?”

  Emmanuel looked around at one of the other Society dudes that Colin didn’t recognise, and his shoulders slumped. “Look,” he said. “I know it looks shitty, b-but—”

  “You’re right,” Colin said. “It does look shitty. Very fucking shitty.”

  “C-Colin, I—”

  “We had them. We had them, and because of some immense fuck-up, they slipped away, again. Do you actually realise how important they are? Do you realise, like, the magnitude here? The stakes here?”

  “Course we get that.”

  “I’m not sure you do.”

  Colin looked over his shoulder, back down the coastline. He thought of the discovery in Blackpool. Those bodies, sitting there in those trams. Splayed across the promenade.

  And the others he’d seen, too. Not many, but showing the same signs, the same symptoms.

  That film across their skin. That shiny, slimy film.

  That sour smell to the air, all around them.

  And the whispers he’d heard.

  The rumours he’d heard from above.

  He didn’t want to believe they could be true. The thought scared him too much.

  He took a deep breath and sighed. “Look. I get it. We’re all in the shit here. And we’re in this together. But you just need to show a bit of responsibility sometimes. This guy. This girl. You need… you need to remember exactly what they mean to us. To all of us. And I know it ain’t easy sometimes. I know these fuckers aren’t making things all that nice for us. And some of you might struggle with what we have to do. Might get all conflicted and stuff. But just remember. As bullshit as it sounds… they are the key to us getting out of this mess. And if we don’t get out of this mess fast, there’s gonna be a whole load of shit on our hands to deal with. Shit like we’ve never had to deal with before. I can feel it coming.”

  Emmanuel’s eyes narrowed. The waves of the sea crashed against the shore. Overhead, a crow cawed, clearly disturbed by their presence, interested in the mass of bodies below.

  “So w-whaddo we do next?” Emmanuel asked.

  Colin took a deep breath and looked at the road ahead.

  “We do what we’ve always done,” he said. “We keep on going. We keep on hunting. But something else, too.”

  “Something else?”

  He gritted his teeth. Wasn’t really his place to be making this next suggestion. But if he didn’t, he feared things might spiral even more out of control. “I know there’s a no harm order on these folks. But if you need to shoot one of ’em in the leg or something… if you need to wound one of ’em to take them down… you do that.”

  Emmanuel’s eyes narrowed. “But—”

  “And the woman they’re with, whoever she is. The dog they’re with. It’s time we stopped playing kind with them. That could be our goddamned key here.”

  Emmanuel’s eyes lit up. He looked afraid. But he looked intrigued, too. “Time to play dirty,” he said. “I like that.

  Colin nodded. He took a deep breath, and then he switched the mode on his modified rifle from sedative darts to bullets.

  “Good,” he said. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  Emmanuel switched his rifle mode, too.

  So too did the others.

  Fear on their faces.

  Horror in their eyes.

  But when Colin stepped forward and heard them following him, he felt a power sweep over him.

  A certainty that this was the right thing to do.

  The only thing to do.

  They were going to find these fuckers.

  They were going to hunt them down.

  And if they had to play dirty to get them back to where they wanted them, that’s exactly what they’d do.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Noah opened his eyes and had a bad feeling right away.

  He saw the roof of the petrol station staring down at him. His head ached, and his eyes were itchy. He could taste something at the back of his throat, like vomit. Anxiety clawed at his stomach, made him want to puke. He felt dizzy. Disoriented.

  And then it hit him like a sharp jolt to the chest.

  It was morning.

  He’d slept right through.

  He was supposed to wake after a couple of hours to take watch. He knew he’d drank far too much of that shitty gin. Shit…

  He turned over, expecting to see Iqrah and Bruno by his side, when his stomach sank.

  Iqrah was nowhere to be seen.

  And neither was Bruno.

  He scrambled to his feet. Head felt a little dizzy. Shit. He’d really fucked it now. Dozed off, left Kirsty awake. Maybe he was wrong to trust her. Maybe she was just getting him drunk and had plans of her own; plans to take Iqrah away.

  Maybe she’d spiked him. Maybe that was all part of her plan.

  Maybe those weird feelings he’d felt for her last night were all just a game after all.

  “Iqrah?” he called. He walked down the aisle of the gas station. The shelves they’d put in place of the doors had been moved aside. Outside, he could see sunlight, bright and warm against the glass. A scorching day. Felt roasting in here. Sweaty and grubby, which was always pretty much a certainty anyway in these times, but particularly so right now.

  He walked to the front of the gas station and stopped.

  Silence outside.

  Nothing but a gentle breeze. A smell of warmth to the air. Birds singing.

  “Iqrah?” he called.

  His voice echoed around the street. Panic intensified. Not just for Iqrah, but for Bruno, too. That fear. That raging fear deep within of being abandoned, of being left alone again, right as he’d started to trust, right as he’d started to believe.

  He walked out onto the warm tarmac, somewhat sheltered here by the covering over the station. A smell of stale gas filled the air. A couple of rusty cars sat in the bay, abandoned. He didn’t want to look inside. Didn’t want to see
any reminders of the great event all those years ago. Skeletons and bones were just commonplace now, a part of the scenery. But seeing the bones of a young child and remembering how rapidly life had gone from ordinary to extra-ordinary was still unsettling.

  The day that became commonplace was the day you lost your humanity. No matter what you’d done.

  He ran to the edge of the petrol station. Looked up and down the street. Saw heat rising off the surface of the road. Judging by the position of the sun, it was late morning. Fuck. How’d he slept right through? Definitely spiked. Something was definitely wrong.

  He looked either side. Tried to look for a trace of Iqrah, Kirsty, Bruno. Just any sign at all they were around, any sign of which direction they might’ve headed in.

  But then even more dread set in. Because he didn’t know how long they’d been gone. He had no idea when they’d set off. Could’ve been right after he’d passed out last night.

  Sickness punched him in the gut.

  His body shook.

  He put his hand around his mouth. “Iqr—”

  “You want to stop shouting like that, jeez. You’re gonna attract attention.”

  Noah spun around.

  Kirsty stood there.

  Iqrah by her side.

  Bruno running over to him, jumping up at him, wagging his tail.

  “What the fuck?” Noah said. “Where’ve you been?”

  Kirsty’s eyes narrowed. “Um, we went for a little walk to see if we could find any supplies. Grabbed you a cereal bar. Dusty, and at least seven years out of date. But it’ll do.”

  “Seriously? You—you walk away like that? Leave me in there to think something’s happened to you?”

  “Jesus, Noah,” Kirsty said. “Chill. We’ve only been round the block. And besides. We’ve got some good news, right Iqrah?”

  Noah had barely even registered Iqrah in his angered state, which he instantly felt bad about.

  Looking at her, he noticed two things right away.

  First, she was up and walking, and she looked a hell of a lot healthier than she did last night. More vibrancy to her. More colour to her cheeks.

  And there were her eyes, too.

  Looking right at him.

  A smile on her face.

  “I can see again,” she said.

  Noah sighed. It was more a breath of relief than anything. “Iqrah, that’s… that’s great.”

  “I woke up, and I could see just fine. I don’t… I don’t know what happened. But it must’ve been the way we came together back at Blackpool. I still feel… weird. But I can see. So it’s getting better. We both have to be getting better. Right?”

  Noah rubbed his hand through his hair. Truth be told, he was still reeling from the shock of thinking he’d lost these people to really concentrate on what Iqrah was saying.

  But she had her sight back. That was something. That was a goddamned relief.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I just…”

  “It’s okay,” Kirsty said, thumping his arm. “Anyway. Get a cereal bar down you. You look like shit.”

  Noah took the cereal bar from her, had a couple of bites of it. She was right—it was definitely off, but it was something. No knowing when the next time you were gonna eat was, so had to take small victories wherever they came.

  “Me and Iqrah found something else on our travels,” she said.

  Noah tried to keep it cool. Didn’t want them to think they were totally off the hook for scaring the fuck out of him just yet. “Oh yeah?”

  Kirsty pulled out a large road atlas. “Bit browned. Bit curled at the pages. Some pages missing completely. But at least we have a proper route towards Morecambe to figure out right now.”

  Noah looked at the map, right where Kirsty was pointing.

  “So we’re a lot further from Morecambe than we were before. But at least now, we know where we’re at. I dunno how long it’s gonna take to get there exactly, but I reckon a few days.”

  “I don’t know if we have a few days.”

  “Then unless you’ve got a way of getting us there super speedy, it’s something you’re just gonna have to take. Something we’re gonna have to work with.”

  Noah nodded. Didn’t like admitting defeat, but what else could he do right now?

  “Look,” Kirsty said. “It’s a beautiful morning. We’re all still breathing. Iqrah’s got her sight back. You’re looking… well, not exactly ‘well’ but you’re alive.”

  “Charming.”

  “Look on the bright side here and there, Noah. Plenty to smile about today. Right, Bruno?”

  Bruno sat. Wagged his tail. Barked excitedly at Noah.

  Noah shook his head. “Bright side bullshit.”

  Kirsty patted him on the back. “That’s the spirit. Now come on. You’ve slept the morning away already. We don’t have all day. You ready?”

  Noah looked at the gas station.

  Then at the heat rising off the road ahead, last night’s threat of a storm hiding in the distant past.

  “I guess I am,” he said.

  “Good,” Kirsty said. “But you’d better pick your pace up today. Can’t have you slowing us down again, right, Iqrah?”

  Iqrah nodded. “He’s so slow, right?”

  “You cheeky…”

  They laughed. And Noah found himself laughing, too.

  “Right,” he said. “Come on. Less talking, more walking.”

  “You should trademark that one,” Kirsty said.

  They walked together, and again Noah found something deep inside. Something unexpected.

  Noah found himself warming to Kirsty.

  As dangerous as it was.

  As lethal as it was.

  Thirty minutes later, Colin reached the petrol station, saw the doggy footprints and the discarded cereal bar wrapper, and smiled.

  “We’re close,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Noah should’ve known the sense of optimism running through him would only last so long.

  It was early afternoon. They’d been walking all morning. Blinding sun, burning heat. He felt groggy as fuck. Could really do with a shower. But then couldn’t everybody?

  They’d waded away from the seafront and into the suburbs. Terraced houses stared down at them as they walked through these abandoned, derelict streets. So much broken glass lined the pavements. Tall grass swamped the gardens as the man-made gave way to nature. Every now and then, Noah swore he saw movement in these houses, behind the torn, moth-ridden curtains, but he knew it was probably all just in his head.

  He listened to the footsteps against the hot tarmac. Him. Kirsty. Iqrah. Bruno. Bruno panted away a little too, clearly overwhelmed by the heat. It did seem to have come out of nowhere. Usually, you could prepare yourself for a heatwave like this. You saw signs with the weather; noticed patterns.

  But this was excruciatingly bad, right after they’d been on the brink of a storm last night, too.

  And there was a sense of positivity in the air that made Noah slightly concerned, too.

  Made even more ominous by how unarmed they were. The sedative rifles were spent. All they had were knives. He felt targeted. Defenceless. Exposed.

  He looked around at Kirsty. She glanced away immediately. Noah flushed. Fucking hell. He felt like a kid again. All these little glances, all this blushing. Why couldn’t he just face up to what he wanted? Accept reality? There was an attraction there between them. No point beating around the bush.

  But fuck it. Now wasn’t the time or the place to be catching any kind of feelings for somebody. He didn’t really feel like it would ever be the time or the place to be catching feelings for anybody anymore.

  Focus on the road ahead.

  That was the goal.

  “How far we got?” Noah asked.

  Iqrah lifted her head from the large road atlas. She seemed to be enjoying the fact she could actually see again, so was definitely making the most of that talent right now. “We’re nearly at Southp
ort.”

  “Which means we’ll be heading by wonderful Blackpool again pretty soon,” Noah said. “Just our luck.”

  “Why do you have such a downer on Blackpool?” Kirsty asked.

  “Seriously? You have to ask that question?”

  Kirsty puffed out her lips. “Is he always this grumpy?”

  Iqrah smirked. “Pretty much.”

  “Seriously,” Noah said. “I’m not having you two ganging up on me all the time. If this is how it’s gonna be, then you’re gonna have to learn to play nicely.”

  The pair of them laughed. Noah found himself laughing too. But again, it felt risky. It felt dangerous. It just felt too… close.

  “We take a break at Southport,” Noah said. “Preferably not when we’re deep in the suburbs or whatever. There’s some countryside around there. Some fields. I dunno about you two, but I’d rather be some place I can see what’s around me. There’s too many places for people to hide here. Not sure I like it. Bruno says he isn’t keen either.”

  “Dog whisperer now, huh?” Kirsty asked.

  “Something like that. Gotta even these numbers somehow.”

  They walked further down this street of terraced houses. When they got to the end of the road, they were in an old market town. The sort of place that looked dead before this pandemic, the nail firmly slammed in its coffin now.

  It still creeped Noah out. The thought people used to walk these streets. Kids used to run down the road, playing hop-scotch. Lollipop ladies let them cross. A happier life. A simple life. A life robbed.

  “You okay?” Kirsty asked.

  Noah jumped a little. Looked around. “Yeah.”

  Kirsty narrowed her eyes. “You seem a little… I dunno. Jumpy.”

  “Aren’t you a little jumpy?”

  She put a hand on Noah’s arm. “We’re gonna be okay, pal. Iqrah’s an expert map reader. We’re all in this together. We’re gonna make it to Morecambe just fine. Have a bit of faith, okay?”

  Noah’s instinct was to resist. To rubbish Kirsty’s promise of faith and hope.

  But in the end, he figured he’d try it for a change.

  He nodded. Sighed. “Sure, I can spare a little hope.”