Pestilence: A Post Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (Surviving the Virus Book 8)
Page 17
It was above them.
It was…
“Helicopters?” someone said.
Noah looked up into the sky.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
Every muscle froze.
Eight helicopters.
All heading towards the industrial estate.
All passing over.
And as they passed over, he noticed something.
A shift to the air.
A light mist falling over them as they stood there, stared up.
“They ours?” someone asked.
“No chance.”
“Reds?”
“I don’t think…”
And that’s when it happened.
That’s when everything changed.
That’s when it all clicked into place.
That’s when the leader of the Society guards coughed up blood and fell to his knees, shaking, fitting, spluttering.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Noah watched the leader of the Society guards fall to his knees, and he knew right at that moment that everything was changing, all over again.
He fell to the ground. Blood spewed out of his lips. His eyes rolled back into his skull. Almost immediately, there was this chemical tang to the air. This dryness. A smell Noah found familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on where he’d smelled it.
He watched then as more of these Society guards dropped to their knees. As they fell, clutching their necks, spewing out blood. Screaming out in agony. Writhing around. Curling their fingers into their palms. Bashing their heads against the ground. Tearing their hair out in clumps.
And it wasn’t just the people. Some of the dogs, too. Shaking. Shitting blood everywhere. Whining. Writhing.
And then eventually, going still.
Totally still.
Noah looked at Bruno. Saw him looking around, wide-eyed, fearful.
Then he looked at the rest of the guards. The rest of these people. The few still standing. Only four of them that he could see.
Their wide eyes staring on. Dragging their masks off, desperately gasping for air. Their faces smeared with the blood of their friends. Some of them turned. Ran.
But there was one who stood there.
Who stared.
Right at Noah.
Right at his arm.
Noah’s eyes widened. “It wasn’t m—”
The guard lifted his rifle and fired.
Noah jumped right out of the way. Fled into the woods. He didn’t have the time to lift that rifle and fire it with one hand. He could only run down through the woods. Down towards the industrial estate.
Because those helicopters.
There was something about those helicopters.
They’d passed over.
That mist fell onto them.
And they’d all fallen.
They’d—
“Come the hell back here!” the guard shouted. He fired a few more stray shots into the woods.
Noah kept on running. Bruno by his side. That was the fear, the big fear. That Bruno would fall under a stray bullet. He’d dodged death so many times. Both of them had. He couldn’t bear the thought that they’d fight all this way—through everything, even after losing each other—only to lose each other again.
But life didn’t work in patterns. Life was random. Life was unpredictable.
Life was fucking cruel.
He looked over his shoulder. Saw movement of that pursuing guard.
When he turned around, he froze.
Up ahead, a mass of bodies lay in front of him.
All of them were armed. They were dressed in Society black.
But these people were different.
These people had a red mark smeared across their chests.
“The Reds,” Noah muttered.
“Wait,” the guard said. “Don’t…”
He stopped. Slowed down, right by Noah’s side. Stared, wide-eyed, at the mass of Red bodies lying before them both.
And through the smell, through that mist, the one thing Noah noticed most prominently?
The one thing Noah noticed was that strange, clear sheen smeared across the bodies.
That film. The same he’d seen in Blackpool. The same he’d seen on the road.
The same he’d seen on the dying Society guard.
“Heli… Heli…”
He looked around at the Society guard standing beside him. Staring off into space at these bodies. Wide-eyed. Clearly terrified.
“Don’t you see now?” Noah asked.
The guard turned around, snapped out of his stupor. “What—”
Noah lifted his rifle and pulled the trigger.
Gunned the guy down to the ground.
He didn’t have any time to fuck around anymore.
He heard those helicopters getting further away, closer to the industrial estate. And that urgency kicked in. That need.
He needed to get to Kelly.
He needed to get to their home.
He needed to make sure they were okay.
Because he didn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t understand what this was.
But he knew one thing for sure.
These helicopters were the cause of these deaths.
They were the source of so much death.
And if they reached the industrial estate, they would be the cause of even more death, even more suffering.
He ran through the trees. Stepped out onto the hill. The industrial estate in sight. People standing at the gates, standing in front of it.
“Get away!” Noah shouted. “Get back!”
They looked up at him. Some of them holding rifles. Some pointing in his direction.
“Get inside! Get away! Now! Get…”
He went to shout again when his heart skipped a beat.
He saw her.
Standing there.
Right at the fence.
Looking right at him.
Her one eye staring up, wide.
“Kelly,” he said.
Up above, the eight helicopters moved closer towards the industrial estate. That film, that mist, it filled the air now. Made a fogginess between them.
Noah ran down the hill towards that. Determined to reach them. Determined to warn them. “Get back! Kelly, get back! Get inside! Get everyone inside!”
He kept on running down the hill as the helicopters got closer.
Kept on running down the hill as they kept on pumping that mist out.
Kept on running and running as the mist filled the air and blocked his vision, as the helicopters got closer to the industrial estate, out of sight behind that mist now.
He kept on running, until he heard it.
First, a strange silence.
Like the air had been sucked out of the atmosphere.
A silence, then a series of screams.
He stood there in the mist and listened to the gasps.
Listened to the cries.
Listened to the agonised howls of terror.
Of agony.
The gunshots.
The shouts.
The desperate pleas for help.
“Kelly,” he said.
He ran through the mist towards the industrial estate. He just wanted to know. He just wanted to see.
The more he ran, the louder those cries grew.
The more he ran, the more pained they got.
And then he stepped beyond the mist, and he saw it.
The helicopters passing over.
The industrial estate, standing right in the distance.
The bodies.
People.
People reaching out. Clutching their throats. So many people. Crying blood. Gargling vomit.
“Kelly?” Noah said, stepping closer towards the place. Bruno close by his side.
When he stepped towards the fence, he noticed something.
Kelly wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
He moved a little quicker.
“Kel—”
“Noah?”
He looked around.
Kelly stood there.
Covered in blood.
But alive.
Covered in blood, but alive.
“What’s… what’s happening?” she asked.
He walked over to her. Wrapped his arm around her. The smell and sounds of death and chaos lighting up the air. Screams all around them. Men, women, children. People running through the streets—the ones who were still alive, still surviving, desperately trying to get their kids into their homes, even though it was already too late.
“What’s happening, Noah?” Kelly asked. Tears smearing her blood-soaked cheeks. “What is this?”
Noah looked around at the fallen bodies. He looked at the dead kids. The crying children clutching their parents’ chest.
He looked up at the hills, over towards the mass of fallen Society and Reds.
And then he looked off into the distance, over towards those helicopters, disappearing ahead.
“It’s the end,” he said.
“The end? Of what?”
He swallowed a lump in his throat and felt a tightness deep in his chest. “Of everything.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Doctor Watkinson sat in the offshore lab and stared at the screen ahead of him.
He watched the people fall. Watched them clutch their throats. Watched the children scream. The women drag their bloodied bodies across the floor.
He watched it all, and he felt two things.
Guilt.
And pride.
He glanced at the other screens in the labs.
Saw more helicopters across the country.
More scenes like this.
Phase Two. The beginning.
The end.
He removed his glasses.
Wiped a tear from his eye.
And then he reached into his desk, lifted a pistol, and put it into his mouth.
His work here was done.
He closed his eyes, thought of sunshine and laughter, and then he pulled the trigger.
END OF BOOK 8
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any reference to real locations is only for atmospheric effect, and in no way truly represents those locations.
Copyright © 2020 by Ryan Casey
Cover design by MibLart
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Published by Higher Bank Books