Surviving The Virus | Book 7 | Reinfection

by Casey, Ryan

Noah stood there in the water. Body shaking. Legs weak. Exhaustion splitting through.

  He clutched at the gunshot wounds at his chest and shoulder.

  Tried to stay on his feet.

  Tried not to collapse.

  Because he was still here.

  He could still help her.

  He could…

  “Iqrah,” he said.

  He stumbled forward.

  Fell onto his knees.

  Fell face down in the filthy water.

  “Iqrah,” he said.

  He tried to push himself to his feet.

  Tried to get back from his knees.

  Tried to keep fighting.

  Tried to keep chasing.

  But then that sleepiness took over.

  That pain took over.

  The darkness grew darker.

  And in the shit-laced pit of the sewers, Noah closed his eyes…

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Noah opened his eyes and spluttered out rancid tasting dirt.

  He squinted ahead. It was pitch black. He had no idea where he was, only that it reeked like hell in here. His head ached. His body writhed with pain. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly where the pain came from, only that his entire body felt on fire. He could taste blood on his lips. Blood and vomit.

  And at the back of his mind, he had a feeling something was wrong.

  Something was desperately wrong.

  He went to stand when he felt this burning, splitting pain, right at the top of his chest. Put his hand there, and it almost made him pass out again. He looked down, trying to squint in the darkness, trying to see.

  And then it came to him.

  Being dragged down into the water by the infected.

  Desperately scrambling around in that mess of sewage.

  Fighting his way out.

  And then…

  “Iqrah,” he said.

  He looked over his shoulder. Over towards the gaping darkness of the tunnel.

  Iqrah.

  He’d seen her in the arms of that woman. The one with the mask. The one with the evil eyes.

  He’d seen her injecting something into Iqrah’s neck. Making her pass out.

  And then firing two shots at him before walking away.

  He clutched his chest and realised the source of the pain, now. He was shot. Twice, if he remembered rightly. One right at the top of his chest. The other grazing his shoulder.

  He gritted his teeth. He knew he wasn’t going to survive a pair of gunshots, especially not down here where infection was rife. Wouldn’t surprise him if he was already infected. Especially when that diseased fucker gnawed down on his right ankle under the water.

  He dragged himself back across the damp floor, rested against the slimy brick wall. His head spun. His ears rang. He wanted nothing more than to just drift away into the silence again. Because at least there it was peaceful. At least there, he didn’t have to worry about anything.

  He closed his burning eyes and sensed unconsciousness creeping up when he felt a nudge to his left.

  He jumped. Looked around.

  In the darkness, he saw his outline.

  Panting.

  Wagging his tail.

  “Bruno?” he said.

  Bruno rested his head on Noah’s lap. There was something in his mouth, which Noah saw clearer now his eyes were adjusting. Something wedged between his teeth.

  He pulled it from around his long, sharp teeth and held it in his hand.

  That’s when it dawned on him.

  It was material. Cloth.

  Cloth from Noah’s shirt.

  He looked back down at Bruno, who sat there, still wagging his tail. “Did you…”

  He remembered sinking into the water.

  Fading into unconsciousness.

  But something must’ve got him out of that water.

  Something must’ve stopped him from drowning.

  Something must’ve beaten the odds and saved his life.

  He looked back down into Bruno’s eyes and felt tears welling up.

  He smiled. Stroked Bruno’s soft, damp fur. “You’re a good lad. You know that? Such a good lad. Nothing’ll come between us. Even if it’s just you and me. Even if that’s how it’s meant to be. We’ll make it, lad. I promise.”

  He wrapped an arm around Bruno and wondered how the hell he was going to get out of this mess. Because Bruno might’ve dragged him from the water, sure. But he had bigger problems on his hands. Getting out of the sewers with two gunshot wounds and a gnawed ankle. Feeling shaky, shivery, and consciousness threatening to fade every second.

  And then there was Iqrah.

  He thought about her. His sense of duty to her. A sense of responsibility he’d fought all along, all this time. A sense of responsibility he’d resisted.

  He wanted to tell himself to keep going. To keep fighting.

  But then that other voice in his head screamed louder, now.

  Maybe Iqrah was supposed to be with the Society.

  Maybe she really could help.

  As much as he tried to fight it, tried to resist it… maybe Iqrah wasn’t his responsibility after all.

  Maybe it was time to start thinking about himself again.

  He pulled Bruno close. Sat there against the slimy wall of the sewers. Listened to water dripping and echoing. The smells were gross, but they didn’t bother him as much. Not anymore. He felt at peace with everything. At ease with everything. He felt…

  Footsteps.

  Footsteps, over to the left.

  He froze. Spun around. Heart racing. If it was the infected, he didn’t have the energy left inside himself to fight them.

  If it was the Society… well, he knew what was coming.

  He just hoped they showed mercy on Bruno.

  He held Bruno close as torchlights illuminated the dark walls of the sewer, and he held his breath.

  “It’s okay, lad,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

  He saw a figure emerge around the corner.

  For a moment, their torchlight evaded him.

  And just when he thought it might miss him entirely, it landed right on him.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. The light was far too bright. It felt like it was burning his eyeballs, making his head pound.

  He covered his eyes with his hand. Squeezed his eyes shut. Beside him, Bruno growled.

  “Just get it done with,” he said. “But my dog. My Bruno. You let him live, okay? He’s innocent in this. He doesn’t deserve to die. Get it done with. But don’t punish my dog. Please.”

  Silence ahead.

  That light stayed shining on him.

  He couldn’t see the figure standing behind the shining light, holding the torch.

  They were silent. They were still.

  “Well?” he said. “What are you waiting for? Get it the fuck done with. I’m sick of waiting. I’m sick of it. You have everything you want. Now get it d…”

  That’s when the person holding the torch spoke.

  When they said one word.

  One word that changed everything all over again.

  “Noah?”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Kelly watched Noah disappear behind the mass of infected, but the only thing she could focus on was Edward, her boy.

  The heat was stifling. The cries of the infected were deafening. She tried to wriggle her way free of their grip, but it was just too tight. It felt like the more she struggled, the more she squirmed, the tighter their grips got.

  But she couldn’t give up.

  She’d heard her son cry out. Heard him scream.

  And then she’d watched him disappear amidst the crowd.

  She pushed forward. Pushed through the smell of rot. Dragged herself against their sharp nails, which dug right into her skin, pierced her flesh. She writhed around. Kicked out. Cried and screamed.

  But she got no closer to her boy.

  No closer to her son.

  She launched herself forward and fell. H
it the road, face first. Tasted blood right at the back of her throat.

  But she could see beyond the infected, down here.

  She could see the emptiness in the distance.

  If only she could get there.

  If only she could fucking fight her way through these scrappy, infected fuckers...

  She spun onto her back when she saw one of them on top of her.

  A bloke. Long hair. Ginger. Looked like he’d died a long time ago.

  He lifted his hand. Pressed it against her face. Pushed down, right against the road.

  And as he pushed down, she tried to wriggle herself away. Tried to shake herself free. Tried to worm her way out of this situation, knowing full well she couldn’t goddamned die because dying left her boy vulnerable. It left him in danger.

  She pulled herself further from under the infected’s grip when she felt a sharp pain right in the middle of her eyeball.

  The infected’s thumb. Sticking right into her right eye.

  Pushing down. So hard it made her skull feel like it was being inflated; so much pressure it felt like it was going to burst.

  She tried to shake it free. Tried to kick back against it. Tried to resist.

  But then it happened.

  First, a vague popping sensation, somewhere in the middle of her skull.

  Then, the taste of blood, trickling down her face.

  And then an ache. That’s the only way she could describe it. A dull ache, right around her head.

  She knew right away what’d happened. She knew from the blackness in her vision. The sudden reduction of her sensory field.

  She knew from the jelly-like substance trickling down her cheek.

  She’d lost an eyeball.

  But she didn’t goddamned care.

  Not while her son was still out there.

  She pushed back. Punched the infected right in the throat.

  Then grabbed its Adam’s apple. Tightened her grip. So tight, she felt her nails digging into its weakened flesh; felt the skin splitting.

  “You fucker,” Kelly barked, not focused on the rest of the infected piling around her, just this one. “I’ll make you pay, you fucker.”

  She gripped its Adam’s apple, tight.

  Went to yank it out of its throat—

  A thump.

  A heavy thump, right on the top of her head.

  She fell to the ground. A sharp, splitting pain, right on against her skull.

  Vision fading. Blurring.

  Every sound growing fuzzier, getting further away.

  She lifted her head. Tried to squint into the distance, beyond the bodies, beyond the feet.

  “Edward...” she said.

  And then she felt another splitting thump on the top of her head, and everything went black.

  When Kelly opened her eyes, the infected were gone.

  She was alone. Alone down an alleyway, away from the main road she’d been on before. It was silent. The only sounds were the crows, cawing above. A gentle breeze sweeping through the street.

  She stood up and walked down the alleyway. Her head throbbed. The void where her right eye once was ached with an agony that felt like it was getting worse and worse. Her legs shook. Her whole body felt weak.

  But still she kept walking.

  Driven by one desire.

  Finding her son.

  She stumbled into the road.

  Looked around at the empty streets. Saw blood smeared across the tarmac. Chunks of flesh, which birds gnawed at. All kinds of signs that there had been chaos here, a crisis here.

  But no sign of Edward.

  “Edward!” she cried.

  Her voice echoed against the buildings. Bounced off the abandoned cars.

  But nothing bounced back.

  She went to stumble down the street. Maybe Noah had saved him. Maybe he’d saved him and taken him away to safety. She had to believe that. She had to cling to that.

  She stopped. Turned around. He could’ve gone anywhere. She needed to find a trace of him. But she didn’t know where to start.

  She didn’t know a thing.

  She was lost.

  She was alone.

  She stood there in the middle of the road. Anxiety tightening its grip around her chest. Heart racing. Breathing getting tougher and tougher.

  And as she clenched her fists, she couldn’t help crying.

  “Edward,” she muttered. “Edward... please.”

  She squeezed her eyelids shut, which made the gouged right eyehole ache even more.

  Prayed for a miracle.

  Prayed for an intervention.

  She didn’t get one.

  She never got one.

  Kelly stood in the middle of the sewers and stared at the man and the dog cowering in the light.

  He was bleeding. He was thinner than she remembered. More bearded.

  And he was in a shit state.

  But it was him.

  It was undoubtedly him.

  “Noah?” she said.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Noah?”

  Noah squinted into the bright torchlight. He sat back against the slimy wall of the sewers. The smell of shit filled his lungs. He wanted to throw up, wanted to puke. His body ached from head to toe, pain splitting right through his every fibre.

  And that voice.

  He recognised that voice.

  It was a long time ago he’d last heard it. And as far as he was concerned, he wasn’t ever going to hear it again. Because it was impossible. She was dead. She was gone. He’d watched her disappear into that crowd of infected. He’d heard her scream.

  There was no trace of her when the infected disappeared.

  No single trace of her.

  And yet...

  She stepped forward, and Noah started to wonder if he was imagining things. If this was just a product of his imagination, which was surely pretty likely considering the circumstances, considering the agony he was in.

  And it was surely more likely than the possibility that she was still here somehow.

  That she was alive.

  That she was...

  She stepped forward, and Noah saw her.

  Thinner. Much thinner than he remembered. Dressed in all blue. Shorter hair, too. Not that long blonde hair dangling around her ears anymore.

  And on her face, which shone in the torchlight, he saw something different. Something he didn’t recognise about her.

  He saw pain there.

  A loss there.

  A look of loss that he sensed had been there a long time.

  “Kelly?” Noah said.

  She stood there a few seconds. Not saying a single word. And the longer this went on, the more uncertain he grew. He didn’t know who she was with. Didn’t know whether she was even Society or not.

  And he didn’t know how much she knew about Edward. Or what she thought about him for making them both take that road; the road that got Edward killed. The road that he thought killed her.

  Just that he felt guilt. Intense guilt.

  And that he didn’t deserve forgiveness. He deserved whatever she had in store for him.

  She stood there. Torch in one hand. Pistol in another.

  And then she dropped both the torch and the pistol and ran over to him.

  She wrapped her arms around him, a little too tight for comfort, considering the pain of the gunshot wounds.

  “Kelly,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. I... I thought I’d lost you.”

  “I thought I’d lost you.”

  She backed away. “What happened? What’re you doing down here? What... Sorry. You’re hurt. You’re shot.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You’re not fucking okay, you stubborn bastard. You need to get out of here. Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to go swimming in sewerage water?”

  “Trust me,” Noah said. “It was hardly top of my wish list.”

  Kelly shook her head. That’s when he noticed her eye. It looked sea
led over like she’d badly bust it. Only… no. This was worse. Her right eye, it was gone completely.

  He still sensed there were things unspoken. Things to be said. Things that they were holding back that would have to be addressed eventually.

  But for now, there was a more urgent situation at hand.

  The fact he’d been shot.

  The fact that his ankle had been bitten.

  And fortunately, Kelly seemed to recognise that, too.

  “Come on,” she said, helping him to his feet. “You can’t sit around here any longer. We need to get you out of here.”

  “Iqrah,” Noah said.

  Kelly frowned. The people behind her kept their distance, held back. “What?”

  “A girl. She... they took her. I can’t let them take her.”

  “Noah, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, what the hell you’ve been up to these last few years. But I do know one thing. If we don’t get you out here right now, you’re gonna die. And that’s not something I want on my hands, frankly.”

  He wanted to push back. Wanted to protest. He wanted to keep going, to keep on searching for Iqrah.

  But then he felt that rival, logical force pulling at him.

  It’s already too late for her.

  He closed his burning eyes. Nodded. Then he opened them again as Kelly helped him to his shaking feet.

  “Shit,” he said. A sharp pain jolting through his ankle, right up his body.

  “It’s okay. We... we can get you on a stretcher.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Noah, you’re not—”

  “I can walk, okay?”

  He looked at Kelly, then, and couldn’t stop staring at the gaping void where her right eye once was.

  Kelly must’ve noticed him looking. “Yeah,” she said. “Guess we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. But first, I’ve gotta get you someplace safe. Come on. We don’t want to hang around here too long. It’s not safe down here.”

  She helped him walk along the damp sewer floor. They had to float their way through the sewer water again, which made Noah’s wounds sting like mad. He knew he was fucked. Infection was almost certain.

  But at least he had an opportunity, now.

  At least he had a chance.

  He reached the other side of the sewer. Saw the light above. Felt Kelly dragging him up, up out of the smelly depths of the sewer, up towards the surface.