Surviving The Virus | Book 7 | Reinfection

by Casey, Ryan

  The static blasted out.

  Then the radio went silent.

  Bert sat there on his haunches. Stared at this radio.

  He pushed it back under his bed, stood up, and walked across his tent, over to the opening.

  He looked out into the night. Felt a breeze against his face.

  Somewhere in the distance, he swore he saw movement.

  Do the right thing.

  For the first time in a long time, as he stared at the tents, at his camp, Bert couldn’t shake the feeling he’d just made a terrible decision.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Noah woke up with a bad feeling right at the pit of his stomach.

  It was still dark. A slight chill to the air. A fresh smell, the kind which usually followed rain. There was a stillness outside. A silence, which usually came before a storm.

  But as Noah lay there in these silent, seemingly peaceful surroundings, he just got the sense something wasn’t quite right.

  And it all went back to Iqrah.

  He jolted upright. Bruno snored away, wagging his tail a little as Noah passed by.

  “You stay asleep, lad. Don’t worry about me.”

  He walked over to the tent door, a little dizzy, a bit dehydrated. And he wasn’t sure why he was doing it. Wasn’t sure what he was looking for, or what he expected to find.

  Only that he had a bad feeling about Iqrah.

  He couldn’t explain where it came from. But as he’d drifted to sleep, Iqrah’s words span around his mind.

  We can’t life with the fear of ‘what if?’. You have to learn to enjoy the moment. Because everything goes away. We just have to deal with it.

  And he realised he was starting to feel them. They were starting to resonate with him. Which was dangerous, sure. It wasn’t something he was comfortable with. Not one bit.

  But something about her words resonated with him.

  He wasn’t exactly ready to face up to their full meaning. Not yet.

  But he did have to face up to one simple, unavoidable fact.

  Iqrah was his responsibility. Whether he liked it or not. Whether that meant he was “bonded” with her or not.

  She was his responsibility. And he had a bad feeling about her right now.

  He walked out of the tent and saw movement over by Iqrah’s tent immediately.

  A shiver crept up his spine. It could just be the wind. Could just be the breeze. Wasn’t necessarily anyone. He was just being paranoid. Seeing things that weren’t there to see.

  But the more he focused on that movement, the more he wondered if it might be what he suspected, all along.

  He tensed his fists and walked across the hard ground, over towards that tent, always keeping his focus on it. It was so silent here. The tents were all zipped up. A few snores here and there. But no voices. No sounds from the woods, animals, or otherwise.

  Just his footsteps echoing through this community.

  And then…

  He heard it.

  A whisper.

  A whisper inside Iqrah’s tent.

  A male voice.

  He stopped. All he could think of was Bert. He didn’t trust that guy. The second he got here he’d worried there was something a little off about him.

  And it stood to reason. Iqrah was special. She was important. She had abilities Noah hadn’t seen in anyone else—particularly the ability to reverse the virus.

  He was mad even leaving her on her own. He shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t have trusted anyone.

  He walked a little quicker now, a little less carefully until he reached Iqrah’s tent.

  He stopped outside it. Frozen still. Heart racing. Once again, he heard those words in his head.

  Do you want to do this?

  Do you want to make it your battle?

  He closed his eyes.

  Swallowed a lump in his throat.

  Too fucking right I do.

  He yanked open the tent and saw exactly what he’d expected.

  Iqrah wasn’t in her bed.

  She had a gag around her mouth.

  She was kicking, trying to cry out, muffled by the material.

  And she was in somebody’s arms.

  The man turned around, and Noah saw who it was right away.

  Bert.

  There was a pause. A wideness to Bert’s eyes, like he’d been caught red-handed, found out.

  He stood there and stared at Noah, Iqrah wriggling in his arms, the pair of them silent.

  It was Bert who spoke first.

  “It’s not what it looks like, Noah.”

  “It’s exactly what it fucking looks like,” Noah said, stepping forward.

  “No,” Bert said, stepping back. “Don’t come another step towards me. Not until—until I’ve explained. Please.”

  Noah went to take a step when he saw something.

  A pistol in Bert’s hand. Pointed right at Noah.

  Noah smiled. “Showing your true colours now, hmm?”

  “Listen to me,” Bert said. “I—I’ve made a mistake. An awful mistake.”

  Noah frowned. “I’m not listening to your bullshit. Let her go, right this second—”

  “Noah, you need to listen to me. You. The girl. You need… you need to go. Right this second. You need to go, and we—shit, we all need to go.”

  “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve made a mistake, Noah. A horrible mistake.”

  “What the fuck have you done?”

  He saw Bert look down at Iqrah’s shaking body with such sadness, such disappointment.

  Then he looked back up into Noah’s eyes. “Everything I promised myself I wouldn’t do.”

  Noah didn’t know what to say or think. Only that Bert looked sincerely sorry about something.

  It was the what that bothered Noah.

  Bert stepped towards him, then. Handed him Iqrah. “You need to run. And I… I need you to shoot me.”

  “What?”

  “Shoot me. Outside the tent or something. I need a way to explain what’s happened.”

  “Explain to who?”

  “There’s no time. Just… just get outside. We need to go. Now.”

  Noah wanted to know what the fuck was going on. But at the same time, he had to admit he was afraid.

  He staggered out the tent into the night. A few people were awake now, outside their tents.

  A ginger woman stepped up, frowning. “Bert? Everything okay?”

  Bert looked at this woman. He looked at everyone. And as he looked, Noah saw that same sadness in his eyes, with every turn.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “But we—we need to move on from this place.”

  “What?” Another voice. Tracey, Noah realised.

  Bert looked at the prying eyes of all these people, and he opened his mouth.

  “I think I—”

  A bang.

  A splatter of blood from Bert’s head.

  Skull cracking.

  Blood pouring from his temple as he hit the ground.

  A series of shrieks all around.

  That gunshot echoing in Noah’s ears.

  All anyone could do was stare at Bert’s body. Try to make sense of it all. Try to understand.

  But then Noah saw the movement up ahead.

  They were shielded by the darkness, but there were three of them—at least.

  Holding rifles.

  Masks over their faces.

  A blonde woman leading the way.

  “Hello, folks,” the woman said, lifting that rifle. “I believe you have something of ours?”

  And then she nodded, and the two people beside her pulled their triggers.

  Chapter Thirty

  Noah watched the group of society guards open fire, and he knew there was only one thing he could do.

  He rushed over to Iqrah. Grabbed her and lifted her over his shoulder. Pulled the gag from her mouth.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve got you. We’re getting ou
t of—”

  Another blast of bullets.

  Screams echoing around this camp.

  Bullets piercing tents, puncturing the running bodies all around him. Blood illuminating in the moonlight.

  Noah looked at this scene—at these bodies of good people—and he knew there was no staying here. He felt guilty. Guilty for ever bringing this kind of trouble upon this place.

  But there was no time to stand around. No time to dwell.

  He had to get away.

  He had to…

  And then he remembered.

  Bruno.

  Bruno was still in his tent.

  Shit.

  He looked back. Saw there were five guards now, total. They were open firing on the community indiscriminately. Didn’t look like they were paying any real attention to who they were firing at, only that anyone was fair game.

  But they weren’t shooting at him.

  In fact, there was one woman standing there. Leading the way. She looked like she was the leader of this group. These piercing green eyes. And even though she was masked, she looked like she was smiling.

  She looked right at Noah, right into his eyes.

  And then at Iqrah resting over his shoulder.

  He couldn’t see her mouth for her mask, but he swore he saw a smile to her eyes.

  She lifted a hand. Pointed.

  And then two of the men beside her lowered their rifles and started running directly for Noah.

  He spun around. Ran through the community, weaved through the tents. He saw bodies lying there. People clutching their throats. Spluttering blood. One man, an old guy, holding out an outstretched, pale hand, desperate for some kind of relief.

  And all Noah could do was run between the tents.

  All he could do was race along.

  Because he had to get to Bruno.

  He couldn’t leave him behind.

  He heard more gunshots. Heard the blasts of the rifle getting closer. Saw people scrambling away from the camp, into the woods, desperate for their lives.

  And he knew there was another problem, too. Another risk.

  The infected.

  This kind of noise was definitely going to draw their attention.

  He ran between the tents until he reached his.

  That’s when he stopped.

  The tent had collapsed. Bullets had peppered it already, knocked it over.

  In the middle of that tent, Noah saw a mound.

  A shiver ran through his body. A sharp pain, right in the middle of his chest. Not Bruno. Not Bruno too. Not the same damned day as Barney.

  He felt his jaw quiver. Because he had to look at the evidence, here.

  That mound.

  Still.

  About Bruno’s size.

  He couldn’t wait around.

  He had to get away from this place.

  Get away while he could.

  He went to take a step, tears building in his eyes, when he heard a bark to his left.

  He spun around.

  Bruno raced towards him.

  “Bruno!” Noah said.

  He wanted to reach down. Wanted to lift him up. Wanted to hug and pet the damned dog and curse him for scaring him like that.

  But he didn’t have time.

  Those gunshots.

  So close.

  Those footsteps.

  He turned around. Saw the two figures closing in. They had to get away. They had to run into the woods. They had to…

  He ran between the tents towards the woods when he stopped.

  Two men stood there.

  Rifles raised.

  Pointed right at Noah.

  He went to stagger back when he saw those other two. Stopped now. Standing with their rifles raised, too.

  Panic filled Noah’s body. They were surrounded. And these people, they looked kitted up to the max.

  He looked down at Iqrah. He didn’t like using her as a weapon. But he knew what she needed to do right now.

  “Can you?” he asked.

  Iqrah shook her head. “My head. It hurts.”

  One of the men stepped forward. “The girl,” he said. “Hand her over. Now.”

  Noah looked at these men and then back at Iqrah. Shaking. Struggling to breathe. “Iqrah,” he said. “You need to do this. I’ve got you. You need to do this or they’ll—”

  “My head,” Iqrah said, crying. “Something… something’s hurting me. Something’s not right.”

  He stood there with Iqrah as the two men ahead of him approached, as the two men behind him closed in. As all the while, more gunshots sprayed around the camp. As the screams grew louder, more agonised.

  He stood there, and he closed his eyes.

  Tried to tap into that place himself.

  That place of strength.

  But there was nothing.

  He looked down at Iqrah. They were so close now, these people.

  But Iqrah was right.

  She looked pale.

  Something wasn’t right.

  The man stood just inches ahead of him now. Hands outstretched. “The girl. Hand her over, and you can walk.”

  Noah knew there was no sincerity to his voice. He knew how this ended if he handed her over.

  But what other choice did he have?

  He went to turn away when he heard a blast.

  For a moment, he thought it hit himself.

  But he didn’t feel any pain.

  He didn’t feel anything.

  He looked around and saw one of the men clutching his neck.

  And then another blast cracked out.

  Shot the second man in the head, and then the third in the leg.

  He looked around at the source of the gunshots and saw Tracey standing there.

  She lifted a hand. Waved. “Quick, Noah. While you can.”

  He ran over to her, away from the guards. Fully aware that more of them were approaching. More were closing in.

  “The sewers,” Tracey said.

  “What?”

  “Inside this tent and down there, into the sewers,” Tracey said, pointing at this small yellow tent behind her. “We use it to dispose of our shit. But go down there. Keep going and you’ll find an opening where the wall’s fallen apart. It might buy you some more time.”

  Noah frowned. “Tracey, I can’t—”

  She grabbed his face. Tightened her grip. “You saved my life once. I should be dead already. But I believe everything happens for a reason. That girl is a reason to keep fighting. But you can’t let them turn her into a guinea pig. Now go. Now!”

  He wanted to stay put. He wanted to fight for Tracey. To help her.

  But in the end, he heard those footsteps approaching, and he knew time was running out.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  He ran past Tracey into the tent.

  Then he opened up the stinky, putrid shaft to the sewer below and clambered down.

  He didn’t hear a gunshot.

  He didn’t hear Tracey scream.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Shelley looked at the ugly bitch sitting on her knees before her and wanted to gouge her fucking eyes out.

  It was dark. Specks of rain sprinkled down from above. All around, Shelley could hear the occasional whimper of the dying. The gunshots, putting them out of their misery. A faint smell of smoke in the air from the burning tents. The wind blowing against the dark silhouettes of the trees off in the distance.

  But mostly, she just saw this woman.

  She sat on her knees in front of a collapsed tent. One moment, she’d been on to Noah, on to Iqrah. The next, she’d turned a corner and found no sign of them. This bitch helped them escape somehow. Helped them get away.

  She didn’t know how. Didn’t know where they’d got to.

  Only that disobedience like that deserved punishment.

  She walked over to her. Crouched opposite her. Looked into her brown eyes, at her bruised face, and smiled.

  “You have no idea what you�
��ve just done,” Shelley said.

  The woman shook her head. “No,” she said. “I know exactly what I’ve done. I know what that girl is. I know what she’s capable of. But anyone who butchers my people like that… well, they don’t deserve to be trusted with the future of humanity.”

  Shelley’s eyelids twitched, just a little. She didn’t like the arrogance of this woman. Didn’t like her defiance.

  But she had to keep her patience.

  She had to keep her calm.

  She took a deep breath of that cool night air. Looked around at the collapsed, gunshot tents. At the bloodstains covering the material. At the mass of bodies lying face down in the dirt. “You know, I realise why you did what you did. Really, I do. That kid. She seems all sweet. She seems all innocent. But you don’t know the half of it—”

  “I know she brought me back from the dead,” the woman said.

  Shelley looked around at her. Could it be? Had the girl really used her abilities on this bitch? If she had, it explained a lot. “If you’ve seen what she’s capable of, you should be more understanding of why we’re so keen to get her back to safety.”

  “Safety isn’t with you,” the woman said. “You’re the last damned person I’d trust that kid with. She’s safer with Noah. Safer on the road.”

  “Even if it costs humanity?”

  The woman took in a deep breath through her stuffy nose. “Not finding that girl won’t cost humanity. It’s people like you who will cost humanity. Because you’ve lost it. Your ability to be compassionate. Your ability to care. You slaughtered so many children today. So many innocent people. And why? All because you’re desperate to save humanity? Don’t give me that bullshit.”

  “I was following orders,” Shelley said.

  “Then more fool you. More fucking fool you.”

  The woman spat right in Shelley’s face.

  Shelley wiped it away. A large phlegmy blob. “That wasn’t a nice thing to do.”

  The woman looked back at her with narrowed eyes. “Why don’t you just get on with it? You know what you have to do.”

  Shelley’s smile twitched, then. Because this woman thought she knew where she stood. She thought she knew where this was going.

  She didn’t have a goddamned clue.

  Shelley reached out. Put a hand on the back of this woman’s neck. “My name’s Shelley. I think we probably got off on the wrong foot.”