by Ryan Casey
A man stood before him. Holding a blindfold in his hand, the one that’d just been over Noah’s eyes.
He stood there with a smile on his face. No mask. But dressed in Society black.
“You don’t have to worry about your friends,” the man said.
That’s when Noah saw them.
Iqrah.
Kirsty.
Blindfolded and tied to the opposite wall.
Looked like Kirsty and Iqrah were both out, unconscious. Unresponsive.
And on the floor, chained to the bench, Bruno.
“Iqrah,” Noah said, launching himself forward.
Bruno kicked back. Started barking, ears back. But sleepier than usual. More sedate.
But the chains and the cuffs held Noah in place.
There was no breaking out.
There was no getting free of this.
The man walked over to Noah. Put a hand on his shoulder.
He looked into his eyes with these rich brown eyes. His breath smelled like sour milk. He smiled, baring his yellow teeth.
“You don’t have to worry about ’em. At least… not yet.”
He patted Noah on his shoulder.
Then he pulled out a needle and stabbed him in the neck.
“Sleep,” he said. “Rest. You’re gonna need it.”
Noah tried to kick.
Tried to fight.
Tried to resist…
But the blackness came for him again.
And this time, he wasn’t sure he’d ever see the light again.
Chapter Fifteen
The next time Noah opened his eyes, he knew he wasn’t moving anymore.
Darkness still surrounded him. The smell of warm metal, petrol, and sweat. The taste of vomit and stale saliva in his mouth. His ears were ringing so he couldn’t hear anything. His heart pounded in his chest. He felt groggy. Exhausted. Weak.
But as he sat there in this van, he did notice something then.
There was a sound. A different kind of sound. Something outside. Banging. Banging against the metal sides of the vehicle.
Noah heard voices, then. Muffled at first, but then somewhat audible.
“I dunno where the fuck they came from, okay?”
“Didn’t you fucking see them in the distance? A horde like this?”
“Sure. Sure, I saw ’em in the distance, and I just drove on into ’em. They came from nowhere, mate. Absolutely nowhere.”
Noah frowned. A horde. There was only one thing that kind of word could describe.
The infected.
For maybe the first time in his life, Noah felt a twinge of excitement and relief at the thought the infected were here, that they’d stopped this truck in its tracks. Because it gave him a chance. A slim chance sure, but a chance, nonetheless.
“Well, you’d better get on to HQ and make sure they send someone down here to clear ’em, pronto. We don’t have the firepower to deal with this kind of crap. The prisoners?”
“What about ’em?”
“Are they secure?”
“They’re locked up. About as secure as they can be.”
“I don’t mean physically secure, idiot. You know what the hell I’m talking about.”
A silence. A pause. Like the cogs were turning inside.
And as those cogs turned inside, Noah understood, too.
He understood fully.
“Well, I dosed ’em up a couple of hours ago.”
“A couple of hours ago? Then what the fuck are you doing back here? You know that shit fades out after an hour, and we’ve not exactly got a lot of it left. Get back there right now. You shouldn’t even be still here.”
“Sure. Sure.”
Noah heard shuffling feet, but he sensed an opportunity. Sensed a chance.
The shit that suppressed his abilities had faded.
Which meant he had a chance of getting out of here.
He closed his eyes.
Tensed his jaw.
Tried to sink into that void, however distant.
Tried to fall into its strength.
And then he felt something else.
A presence.
A presence like he’d felt back at the Folkesmithe Labs.
Back on Blackpool promenade.
Iqrah.
He saw her there. Visualised her clearly in his mind. And he felt this wasn’t just his imagination. He felt this was real. He felt connected with her.
But they needed to act fast.
He felt himself tensing even further, that blindfold around his head loosening with his sweat. His forehead bulged. His veins throbbed. He felt like they were going to burst.
But he kept on going.
He kept on persevering.
He kept on—
“Hold it right there.”
A voice. Right ahead of him.
Footsteps getting closer.
Then darkness turned to light.
The guard stood there. The ginger, pockmarked face one from earlier. He looked pissed. Really damned pissed.
Iqrah sat there behind him. Upright. Focused.
His eyes widened as he stared into Noah’s. “I know what you’re trying. I know what you’re doing. Don’t even goddamned think about it.”
Noah glanced at Iqrah.
Then back at the man.
Then he closed his eyes and tensed again.
A crack across his face.
Head spinning.
Stars in his eyes.
He looked back around and saw the man standing over him, needle in hand.
“How about we put you back where you belong, you piece of work?”
He reached over.
Pressed the needle to Noah’s neck.
“Nice try, buddy,” he said. “But I don’t think that’s gonna...”
It happened in a flash.
The man yanked the needle away.
His eyes rolled back in his skull.
Blood pooled down his face from his eyes.
And then he looked down at Noah and tumbled to the floor in front of him.
Noah watched him as he lay there, shaking, saliva frothing from his mouth, blood pooling from his ears and nose.
He watched him twitch, and he knew he hadn’t done this, because he hadn’t been strong enough.
He looked over at Iqrah and saw blood pouring down her pale face.
“Iqrah,” he said. “Enough. E...”
He heard more noises, then. More banging. And then he heard struggling and choking somewhere else in this van, over by the driver’s cabin, maybe.
He heard all this commotion, and he knew Iqrah had done it. She’d tapped into that void within. She’d turned them. Sent them tumbling to the floor, dead. Hit them with the full force of the infection.
But at what cost?
He heard the choking and the crying echo out for another few moments before everything went silent.
He sat there. Silence outside. No banging anymore. Was that it? Had she killed them? Had she turned them?
“Iqrah?” he said.
She was quiet.
Blood covered her face.
She sat upright for another few seconds.
And then she slumped over to one side.
“Iqrah!”
He tried to lunge out of this place, snap free of his cuffs, do everything he could to break away.
But what Iqrah had done to the guards didn’t change the situation he was in.
He was still trapped.
They were all still trapped.
And Iqrah was in trouble.
He looked around, heart racing, trying to think what to say, what to do.
That’s when he heard it.
A bang.
And then another bang.
Outside the van.
Another and another, and another.
His body froze.
His mouth went dry.
They were outside.
They were still outside.
And they were still infec
ted.
He sat there, heart racing. Trapped in this van. Surrounded by a “horde” of infected. And he tried to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do.
And just when it seemed like nothing could get any worse, that’s when the guard lying before him twitched.
Raised his head.
Stared up at Noah with vacant, bloodshot eyes.
And then he snarled.
Chapter Sixteen
Noah stared into the infected guard’s eyes as he looked up and snarled at him, and every muscle in his body went weak.
Blood covered the guard’s face. His face had gone a grey, pale shade in an instant. He opened his mask-less mouth a few times, tried to say something, tried to form some words.
But words failed him.
He didn’t have to say a thing.
The way he looked at Noah told him everything he needed to know about his plans for him.
He staggered to his feet. Struggled to stand, kept on tumbling over on the slippery, blood-soaked floor. Bruno was fully awake again now. Seemed sedate, but awake. Stared over at the infected guard and growled.
And outside, Noah heard the fingernails of the infected clawing at the sides of the van. Eager to get inside.
Iqrah lying there, totally still. Blood trickling from beneath her blindfold.
Kirsty not looking much better.
The infected guard staggered to his feet. And this time, he managed to keep his balance. All his focus was on Noah. He stared at him, blood-laced saliva trickling down his chin. It was as if there was nobody in here but Noah. Which he was kind of relieved about. If he’d looked at Iqrah once, he would’ve spiralled into protectiveness.
At least the attention was off Iqrah, for however long.
At least it was on him.
At least...
More footsteps.
A door at the front of the van opening.
And then, two guards stepped through.
At first, Noah felt a glimmer of hope. He might not like the Society guards, but right now, he needed all the help he could get. And he was important at the end of the day. So too was Iqrah.
So they’d protect them both in their own twisted ways.
But when Noah looked closer at these Society guards, his heart sank.
Blood ran down their faces.
One of them had his teeth through his own tongue.
Their expressions were blank, and their faces were pale.
They were infected.
They staggered into the back of the van. And as much as the first guy paid all his attention to Noah, the other two were different. They looked around the van. Looked at Bruno, who kicked back, growled.
Looked at Kirsty, who slept, clearly heavily drugged.
And then worst of all, looked right at Iqrah.
Noah froze.
Urgency and adrenaline took over.
He squeezed his eyes shut as that infected guard made for Iqrah and fell right into that void.
But then he felt it.
A hand grabbing his arm.
Tightening its grip around him.
Sour breath covering his face.
The infected.
Closing in.
Getting closer and closer and...
No.
The infected’s hand loosened.
Noah opened his eyes.
The infected guard stood there. Narrowed his eyes. Confused. Like he heard him. Like he understood him.
Noah’s head ached. He could feel warm blood covering his lips. Felt like he was doing some real damage to himself.
But he had to.
No.
The infected guard backed away, then. He took a few steps, right to the middle of the van.
And that’s when Noah noticed something else.
The other infected.
They turned around. Looked over.
All stared at Noah.
Like they were waiting for something.
His heart raced. He tried to keep his cool. Tried to stay in this place he was in right now. Didn’t want to let it slip through his fingers. Didn’t want to let it go.
He focused on his breathing. And he tried to formulate a plan. Tried to figure out what to do next, for the best.
He looked at the first of the guards, the one who’d come in here before the others and interacted with him. And he didn’t have to say anything. He just thought about the keys for his cuffs. Thought about him coming over here. Handing them to him. Just like he’d controlled that infected who held Baby Edward over that cliff, all that time ago.
The infected struggled at first. His body shook like he was holding back, resisting.
And then he reached into his pocket.
Stepped forward.
Keys in hand.
That’s it. Just a little further this way. Just...
The keys dropped from the infected’s hand.
The infected guard twisted his head. Snarled.
And Noah felt his loose grip on that control slip away.
But the keys.
They were within reach.
He dragged them back with his foot.
Snatched at them with his hand.
Twisted around, contorted his wrist as the infected broke free of their stupor, as their interest in him and Iqrah renewed and—
Noah turned the key.
The cuffs fell away.
The infected flew at him.
He swung his loose fist right into the infected’s face and knocked him down to the floor.
He straddled on top of him them. Scrambled around for something he could use as a weapon, anything he could use as a weapon.
All the while staying aware of the other two infected.
How close they were to Iqrah.
How close they were to Bruno.
And, goddamnit, how close they were to this Kirsty woman.
He felt the infected writhing around underneath him. Felt blood splattering all over his face as he struggled and shook.
And just when he thought his luck was out, he found it.
A knife.
Right in its back pocket.
He yanked it out.
Pressed his arm against the side of the infected guard’s head.
Then he buried it in its temple.
The infected guard writhed around a few seconds. Shook.
And then he went still.
Noah looked up.
The two infected were so close to Iqrah.
He stood. Scrambled over to them.
Leapt at them.
Buried the knife into the neck of one, multiple times.
Then dragged him to one side and stabbed the next in the temple, repeatedly.
Blood everywhere.
The smell of metal and rust filling the air.
The infected dropped to the floor of the van.
Outside, Noah still heard the scraping, the scratching, the snarling.
He rushed over to Iqrah. “Iqrah?”
Took off her blindfold.
Wiped her greasy hair from her bloodied face.
“Iqrah?” he said, breaking her free of her cuffs from the keychain. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now. I’ve got you.”
She mumbled. Twisted, just a little.
She was okay. Better to let her rest now. Better to let her sleep.
He moved on to Bruno. Ruffled his fur and unlocked him from the leash. And then Kirsty, who just about opened her eyes and yawned when Noah released her.
“Shit,” she said. “What the hell happened in here?”
Noah tightened his jaw. “Nice of you to wake up right on time. Talk about fucking timing.”
He walked over to the front of the van. They’d tackled the Society guards in here, no matter how long-winded as it might’ve been, no matter how lucky they might’ve been.
Now they had to focus on the next step.
Getting the hell out of this van.
Getting...
He stepped into the front of the van
when he saw them.
“Shit,” Kirsty said. “Holy fucking shit.”
There was no need to add a thing.
Not as Noah stood there and looked outside the windows of the van.
The road was swarming with infected.
All of them surrounding this van.
All of them banging and scratching at the windows, at the sides.
All of them staring at him, at Iqrah.
All of them closing in.
“Looks like you woke up just at the right time after all,” Noah said.
Chapter Seventeen
Noah and Kirsty stared at the mass of infected surrounding the van, and Noah knew right away they were in deep shit.
The road was rammed with the infected. They were all banging against the van, clambering onto it. Even though they were inside, he could hear their shrieks cutting through, sending shivers up his spine.
“So what’s the plan?” Kirsty said.
Noah frowned. “The plan? You wake up and you expect me to have a goddamned plan right now, right away?”
“Well, if you don’t, I’d say we’re pretty much screwed.”
“Yeah. Pretty much screwed just about does it—”
A bang.
A crack against the glass window of the van.
One of the infected clambering its way up it. Slamming on the windscreen. Attempting to break its way inside. Smacking its head against the glass, again and again and again.
“Is that glass gonna hold?” Kirsty asked.
“I think it’ll h—”
A crack split across the glass.
“You what?” Kirsty said.
“I thought it might hold. Now I’m not so fucking sure. Shit.”
He looked around. Looked for some way he could get out of this. Maybe driving the van. But fuck. No keys in sight. He had to think of something else. They both did.
“What about the guns?” Kirsty said.
“Guns?”
“Back in the van. They shot us with those sedatives, right? But don’t they have, like, another mode? Standard ammo or whatever?”
“The guns,” Noah said, his eyes lighting up. “Shit, the guns.”
He rushed into the back of the van. Iqrah still lay there, mumbling, semi-conscious.
“It’s okay,” he said, lifting one of the rifles. “We’ve got you. Bruno’s watching you.”
He picked up the rifle and turned around. Saw that infected smacking its head against the glass, joined by a companion now. Both of them beating at it. Doing everything they could to break inside.