by Ryan Casey
“I’ll pull my weight. Hell, I’ll stay out of your way if that’s what you want. But I can help you. Both of you. And those friends of yours. Those friends you mentioned. What were they called again?”
Kelly frowned. “I don’t think we mentioned any friends.”
“You definitely mentioned some friends. Jasmine, was it?”
“Don’t say her name,” Kelly said.
“What?”
“I said, don’t say her name!”
“Whoa,” Eddie said, raising his hands, trying to install a bit of peace. “Maybe I mentioned them. But yeah. We have friends. But... but you have to understand, Bruce. It’s not exactly, like, abundant, this place we’re going to. We can barely feed ourselves, let alone... another.”
Bruce frowned. “So you’re ditching me now?”
“What?”
“You gave me that nice little talk. You made me feel all comfortable and wanted. But it was just for your own ego, wasn’t it? It was just so you could feel better about yourself. Not for me.”
He turned around. Tightened his grip around those squirrels, so tight the blood dripped down his hands. He walked towards that door. Pushed it open.
And a part of Eddie knew he should just let him go. Just let him walk. Because there was something unstable about him. Something he wasn’t sure about.
“Wait,” Eddie said.
Bruce stopped. Stood there. Stared out into the warm morning light.
Kelly looked at Eddie. Waited for him to say something. Waited for him to make some kind of call... but one she’d approve of.
But Eddie pushed past that and did what he knew was right. Deep down.
“Things are a struggle. But... but we’re all in this together, at the end of the day. You can come with us. Just don’t... don’t be under any illusions about the sort of place you’re heading to. Because it’s not all sunshine and rainbows there. Okay?”
Bruce looked him in the eyes. For a split second, Eddie thought he saw tears in those tired, bloodshot eyes.
But then he just half-smiled. Nodded. “You’re a decent guy, Eddie. Remember that.”
He walked over. Patted him on the shoulder.
And then he gave Kelly this look. This look of total disdain. Of total hate.
And then he smiled at her. Widely.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s grab breakfast. And then we can get moving.”
He turned around. Walked out of the abandoned building. Got to work on building a fire. On setting it up, ready to cook those bloodied squirrels in the middle of his big, dirty hands.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Eddie asked.
“I’m thinking you’re a fucking idiot who has no idea what you’re getting yourself into. Is that what you’re thinking?”
Eddie gulped. “I was more thinking... maybe I was wrong about this guy.”
“What?”
Eddie kept his focus on Bruce. Kept his cool. “Maybe I was wrong about Bruce. There’s something about him. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.”
Kelly sighed. “Finally. Fucking finally.”
“Be quiet. Don’t let him think anything’s wrong.”
The pair of them stayed standing there. Staring out at Bruce, tending to that fire. Trying to keep a calm look on their faces. Trying to stay smiling.
“So what are we going to do about it?” Kelly asked.
Eddie’s cheeks flushed. He wasn’t used to this level of responsibility being pushed his way.
But if there was ever a time for responsibility, it was now.
“We’re going to wait until he’s distracted. And then we’re going to get the hell away from him.”
Chapter Forty-Two
It all happened so fast.
One second, Noah saw Jasmine standing there at the opening of that manhole cover. Staring down at it. Fear in her eyes as those surrounding lunatics closed in.
The next, she went tumbling down into the unknown.
“Jasmine!”
Noah threw himself towards that cover. Barney jumped down there, barking, clearly sensing some kind of panic, some kind of trouble with his beloved owner.
He didn’t know what was wrong. Didn’t know what had happened to her.
He just knew there was something desperately wrong.
He needed to get down that cover.
He needed to—
A hand grabbed his arm. Tight.
He spun around. Saw a man clinging on to him. Eyes wide and bloodshot. Blood oozing, pouring down his cheeks. Teeth wide. Snapping. Cracking against one another so hard it looked like they might just fall to pieces.
“Bastard. Make you pay for the lighthouse. Make you pay for the lighthouse!”
Noah swung his knife at the bloke. Pushed it into his chest, then yanked it out.
The man’s grip loosened. He looked up at Noah with such anger. Such pain, as blood poured out all over the street.
And Noah felt that guilt, deep within. That guilt over these other lives. Because they might be lunatics, and it might be better for him to dehumanise them like that.
But they were people, too.
Fuck. He couldn’t think like that.
He couldn’t afford to let guilt eat him up along with everything else.
So he pushed the bloke away.
He turned, knife in hand. Faced the crowd heading towards him. The two women.
Distance yourself.
They’re not people.
They’re already dead.
He waited for the wailing, grey-haired woman to lunge at him before kicking her down, right in her stomach.
And then when the faster, younger girl by her side clawed at his face, he buried that knife into her throat.
He yanked it back. Felt hot blood splash out over his arm. He’d bought himself a moment to get down that manhole cover. He’d bought himself some time.
He turned. Ran towards it. Clambered on to the ladder with his shaking hands.
Grabbed the manhole cover. Tried to pull it across, to close the opening, to—
A hand.
A hand stuck down between the gap.
Cold. Grabbing at him. Trying to cling on.
There was something about that hand, too.
Something that really unsettled him.
It felt… scaly.
Burned.
He held on to that manhole cover, and he did the only thing he could do.
He smashed that solid metal manhole cover against his arm.
Repeatedly.
Hard.
As long as it took for the bone to crack.
For the person—he didn’t even know if it was man or woman—to recoil, to pull it away.
And then he slammed that manhole cover shut, and darkness filled the shaft.
He waited there a few seconds. Shaking. Heart racing. All he could hear was his short, nervous breathing. The smells of sewerage all around. Of damp air. The sound of dripping water.
And then he came to his senses.
“Jasmine!”
He climbed down the ladder. The silence wasn’t good news. She’d fallen quite a height. She might’ve fallen into the water. Or cracked her head against the concrete.
No. He couldn’t speculate.
He just had to find her.
He jumped off the bottom step of the ladder. Squinted in the near-total darkness. “Jasmine?”
All the while, he kept on glancing back up at that manhole cover. It might not be long before the rest of those pursuing infected got there. Opened it up. Came racing down here after them. He’d never seen a group of them like that before. Never seen them turn so suddenly. It dawned on him that he really didn’t know a thing about the virus. How it worked. What it was. Nobody did. Not really.
And that was the scariest thing about it all.
Nobody knew how it worked.
Nobody knew who was or wasn’t infected.
Everyone seemed to react in different ways.
&nbs
p; “Jasmine!”
He felt something against his leg.
Something solid.
His heart picked up.
A whining. Like a dog.
“Barney,” he said.
He crouched down. Then it suddenly hit him that he had a torch in his supply bag. He’d been so caught up in the drama he’d totally forgotten.
He grabbed it. Flicked it on. Expected to see Bruce staring back at him.
He saw Bruce.
But there was something else, too.
Jasmine lay back against the solid brick wall.
Water dripped down on her from above. Blood trickled from her head. From her nose. From her ears.
But her eyes were open.
Wide open.
Staring at Noah.
One of her legs contorted at an impossible angle.
Noah turned cold. “Jasmine. We need to get you out of here—”
“Noah,” she said.
Blood trickled down her face. Her skin was pale. Her eyes were turning red. And her palms...
He didn’t want to admit it, but they were turning blue.
He shook his head. “We’ll get you out of here.”
Jasmine forced a smile. Shook her head as she cried. “It’s too late.”
“No,” Noah said, grabbing her, trying to lift her. “It’s not too late—”
“It is,” Jasmine said. “And you... you know it. You know it.”
Noah held on to Jasmine in this darkness. He listened to her croaky breaths. Felt her racing heart battering against him. And as much as he wanted to deny it, he knew.
He could see how she was.
He could see the state she was in.
He sat there, crying, shaking his head. “It—it works in different ways.”
“Noah...”
“Eddie. And Kelly. They—they both fell ill. But they’re still alive. They... they were still alive. We can’t give up. We have to get you out of here. We have to...”
A hand.
A cold, shaking hand on the back of his palm.
A look into Jasmine’s eyes.
The way she looked back at him.
Blood pouring down her face like tears.
And a look of inevitability.
A look of acceptance.
“You know it’s too late. Even... even if I did make it... that fall... Noah, you know what you need to do.”
Noah felt it like a punch to the gut, then. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t want to be... I don’t want to be like them. Don’t let me get that way. I don’t—I don’t want you to see me like that. Please.”
Noah felt like he was sinking into a hole in the ground. Like this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. He’d lost everything. He’d found everything again. And then he was losing it. All of it. All over again. “Jasmine, don’t make me do this—”
“Remember what we spoke about when we were watching Vanilla Sky that night?”
Noah frowned. “What?”
“What we said. One of our... our stupid dark conversations. About... about whether we’d switch the machine off if the other one wanted it. You remember that?”
Noah laughed. And he cried. “You said you’d want out in a heartbeat. I said I’d want to stay alive and spend the rest of my life blinking at you. Blink language.”
“I meant what I said,” Jasmine said. She tightened her grip on Noah’s hand. “So let me go, Noah. Let... let me go.”
He realised something, then.
Her hand.
It shifted away from the back of his hand.
Moved towards the knife.
“Do what you have to do,” she said.
Noah sat there. Knife in hand. Shaking. He still couldn’t believe he’d killed these people he didn’t know; the infected attacking him and Jasmine.
But killing someone he knew.
Killing someone he cared about.
Killing someone he loved.
He held the knife in his shaking hand. “Don’t make me do this,” he said.
“You’re doing what I want.”
“I love you, Jasmine. I never... I never stopped loving you.”
Jasmine reached for his face. Touched his skin with her cold, greying fingers.
“Nowhere near as much as I love you.”
Those words. They hit Noah like a brick wall.
“And if you... if you love me, you know what you have to do. For me.”
He looked at her gorgeous face. Still so beautiful, in spite of the blood. In spite of the sweat. In spite of the grime. In spite of all the pain.
He looked at her like he’d looked at her that first time he’d ever seen her.
And she never looked any different.
“What was that line in Vanilla Sky?” Jasmine said.
Noah looked away. “Don’t. Please—”
“‘I’ll see you in another life. When we are both... when we are…’”
He covered his face, then. Broke down. Because as hard as this was, as impossible as this was, he knew what he needed to do.
He knew it had to be him.
He knew it was what Jasmine wanted.
“Please,” Jasmine said. “Just do it. I love you, Noah. Just do it.”
He looked at Barney as he sat there, whimpering. Head resting on Jasmine’s thighs.
Then he looked at the knife in his palm.
One move.
One swift move.
That’s all it needed.
He looked into Jasmine’s eyes.
One last time.
“I love you. I’m sorry.”
And then he flicked the light off.
He sat there a few seconds. Shaking. Crying.
He wanted to turn back.
He wanted to change his mind.
He wanted to—
A shuffling.
Somewhere in front of him.
Barney growling.
“Jasmine?”
Noah fumbled for the torch.
Switched it on.
Pointed it at the wall where Jasmine rested.
When he looked at the wall, a cold shiver crept right through him.
Jasmine wasn’t there anymore.
Somewhere behind him, he heard footsteps.
And a deathly, blood-curdling snarl...
Chapter Forty-Three
Kelly waited until she was absolutely sure Bruce wasn’t looking before making a break for it.
She crept out of the house, Eddie by her side. Just focused on the trees around them. Focused on those terraced houses at the side of the road. Focused on the occasional car moving by in the distance, one of the lucky bastards who’d actually managed to hoard whatever small amount of fuel was left.
The warm summer air filled her lungs. She felt filthy. Absolutely desperately in need of a wash. Heart racing. Anxiety spiking out of control.
They just had to get to those trees.
Then they’d be out of sight.
They’d be free of that lunatic, Bruce.
They wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.
She heard the crackling of the fire behind. The fire he was cooking the squirrels over. She could smell burning flesh in the air. And as much as it reminded her of the luscious tastes of a barbecue—as much as she could almost hear the clinking of beer glasses and the laughter of friends in one of the many social gatherings she was usually enjoying around this time of year—it made her feel sick. It didn’t smell like food. It smelled like flesh. And it just made her think of all the other bodies she’d seen lining the streets. Unburned bodies. Unburied bodies. Bodies left by the side of the road to rot. Left to the crows. Left to the rats.
She glanced at Eddie. Saw he was staring ahead, too. Eyes firmly focused ahead. Not looking back at all. He kept on muttering things under his breath. Sounded like he was giving himself a bit of a pep talk. Urging himself to keep moving. Urging himself to power on.
She wanted to tease him for it. To take the piss. T
ell him he was being a drama queen. To delve deep into those defences she’d built up around herself, so high.
But she couldn’t.
’Cause she felt it, too.
“You’ve got this,” she whispered to herself. “You’re gonna be okay. You’re…”
It happened so fast.
A voice. Right up ahead. Two voices, in fact.
Kelly froze.
So too did Eddie.
People.
People walking past.
She didn’t know who they were. What they wanted. Didn’t particularly care so much.
But she knew they would draw Bruce’s attention this way.
And she didn’t want to have to run.
She didn’t want to have to fight that guy.
She watched these two people walk by on the street the other side of the trees. Heard them talking. Sounded like they were laughing. Loud, too.
The hairs on her neck stood on end. That fire behind kept on crackling. She hadn’t heard Bruce move. Hadn’t heard him say a word. She didn’t want to look around. She didn’t want to see him glaring at them.
She waited until those people walked past. Until their footsteps quietened. Until she could barely hear them laughing anymore.
And then she did something she really didn’t want to do.
She looked back.
When she turned around, she saw something she wasn’t expecting to see.
Something that made her blood run cold.
Bruce wasn’t there.
“Eddie,” Kelly said.
“I’m not looking. I refuse to look.”
“Eddie. Seriously. Turn the fuck around right this second.”
He glanced back.
And that big pale face of his went a whole shade paler.
“What the hell?”
Bruce wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
He wasn’t by the fire, which still crackled away.
Squirrel burned on the spit above it, now.
He wasn’t anywhere.
“Maybe he went back to the hut,” Eddie said. His voice shaky. Weak.
“Maybe,” Kelly said.
But she had a bad feeling about this.
A coldness, right the way through her body.
“Come on,” she said. “It doesn’t change anything. We need to get the hell away from here. I don’t like this one bit.”
She turned around. Walked quicker, now. Eddie practically jogging by her side to keep up with her.
