by Ryan Casey
He looked into the distance. Looked at the five guards, rifles raised. Behind them, he swore he saw more of them in the shadows. Rifles raised. Pointing at the industrial estate. Waiting to fire.
And that protectiveness kicked in again. That defensiveness.
That urgency to look out for the people closest to him.
He looked back at Kelly, and as much as he wanted this to be a proper reunion, as much as he wanted it to be a moment where they never looked back, he sighed.
“I have to go. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t want to say he’d be back. He didn’t want to make any promises he couldn’t keep.
Kelly stepped forward and did something Noah didn’t expect.
She stepped outside the gate and wrapped her arms around him.
“Come back,” she said.
“I can’t promise that.”
“Come back. Please.”
He wanted to argue. Wanted to protest. Didn’t want to make any promises.
But in the end, he just tightened his arm around her. A reassuring squeeze.
“I’ll do my best.”
He turned around, then. Saw Shel kicking the dirt on the ground, eyes lowered.
“Keep an eye on this one, Kel,” Noah said. “Her heart’s in the right place. But she’s a bugger.”
Shel looked up at him. Scowled. “High praise, dickhead.”
“Yeah, well. Look after yourself. Glad you saw the light in the end.”
“Whatever,” she said. “You’re not all that bad.”
A cough through the megaphone.
“In case you’d forgotten,” the voice said. “We have some very fucking serious business to deal with here.”
Noah looked around. A shiver ran down his spine. His mouth went dry.
He saw the guard. Saw Iqrah beside him.
He saw an inevitable confrontation he was going to have to face up to, sooner than later.
He tightened his fist.
Gritted his teeth.
“I’ll fix this,” he said. “I’ll sort it. I promise.”
He didn’t totally believe his own words.
But he took a deep breath and walked into the distance, towards the Reds, towards Iqrah.
The sun sunk below the horizon, and the blood-red landscape turned jet black.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Noah stepped up to the Reds, to Iqrah, and stopped right in front of them.
The darkness had set in. He looked over his shoulder, back at the industrial estate. Saw Kelly standing there. Shel standing there. A few others behind them now, rifles raised, standing their ground. Like they were watching over him. Standing their ground in case anything happened. Showing solidarity with Noah.
And as much as he knew there wasn’t a damned thing they could do to help him, it felt good having them there, watching over him. He felt stronger, somehow. He didn’t feel alone.
The leader of this group stared at Noah. Rifle still pointed to Iqrah’s head. “Well,” he said. “That took a while, didn’t it?”
Noah looked at Iqrah. Lying there. Eyes closed. Rifle to her head. “Can we stop fucking around now?”
The Red’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You could’ve just fired one of those darts into me the second you saw me. Why the theatrics?”
The Red smiled. Laughed. “Ah, Noah. The more we pump you guys with that shit, the more we weaken what you’ve got. Now, we had to pump Iqrah here with some of it. Had to get her to comply. She’s a slippery one. Stronger, too. And anyway. Figured we only had to sedate one of you to get the other to comply.”
Noah nodded. It added up. They were right, of course. Iqrah was his weakness. Didn’t matter how much of a strong front he tried to put across. They knew he’d do anything for her, to protect her, and they’d tapped right into that weakness. No point even trying to hide it.
“So what’s the plan here?” Noah asked. “You take me back to your place. You test on us. You kill us trying to extract what we’ve got. And then what?”
“And then it ends,” the Red said. “We find a way to distribute what we’ve got. Or... well. We make sure our people are safe. We make sure our people are protected. We make it the appeal of our place. The draw of our place. That’s how we achieve order. That’s how we achieve power.”
Noah nodded. Smiled. He might’ve known. There couldn’t be consensus for the common good of humanity. There had to be a descent into tribalism. There had to be these battles for power, for control. It’d always been the way. Why did he ever believe it would ever be any different once the Society was involved?
Tribalism was humanity’s way.
“And if it doesn’t work?” Noah asked.
The Red puffed out his lips. “Well, we keep trying. We’ve had our setbacks before. There’ll be more out there like you. Like Iqrah. A long search, sure. But it won’t be the end of the world.”
“And you’re really willing to put a bullet into Iqrah’s head?” Noah asked. “You’d really kill her just to get me on board?”
The Red shrugged. “As long as we hold on to one of you, we’ll find another, you know? It’s not ideal. Believe me. But like I say. It’s a risk we’re willing to take.”
It was the nonchalance he said it with that scared Noah. At first, he thought he might be bluffing. Questioned just how serious he was.
But now, standing here, he had no choice but to believe him.
He sounded like he really meant it.
“The time for dicking about is over,” the Red said. “Truth is... your friends over there. You don’t want to put them in danger. Iqrah here. You don’t want to put her in danger either. You’re a noble man. And I know you’d die before Iqrah here died. If that’s what it comes to, well. It’s what it comes to. But I’d far rather you just complied. Far rather you just joined us here. Think about the benefits to society, too. To your friends. To—”
“To your people,” Noah said.
The Red sighed. “Look. Your friends over there. The second they hear we’re rolling out a vaccine, a cure, whatever... you really think they aren’t gonna want to join us? Help us, and you help them. What you’re doing is selfish, really. You’re thinking about yourself and not really seeing the bigger picture.”
Noah felt conflicted again. Because he heard the guy’s concerns. He knew how valuable he was. How valuable Iqrah was. How much they could help.
But then there was that conflicting voice.
“I do see the bigger picture,” he said. “And the bigger picture is... I don’t trust you people with the future of this country.”
The Red sighed. Tilted his head. “Well, that’s just a shame, isn’t it?”
Noah looked down at Iqrah, sitting there underneath that rifle.
He saw her closed eyes.
Saw the dried blood on her nose.
Saw...
Her eyes opened.
She looked up, just for a moment.
And even though her eyes looked glazed, even though she looked blind, she smiled.
Noah frowned. He didn’t want to see them looking. Didn’t want them to know Iqrah was awake.
Because if she was awake...
“Last chance,” the Red said. “On your knees. Comply. Or it’s over for the girl.”
He looked down at Iqrah again.
Heart racing.
Chest tight.
And he wondered if he could tap into that place.
He wondered if he could sink into that void.
He wondered if he could do it, and how quickly he could do it.
Iqrah opened her eyes.
She looked up at Noah.
And this time, despite the glaze... it looked like she saw him clearly.
She stared up at him, right into his eyes, and smiled.
“Keep fighting,” she whispered.
And then her eyes rolled back into her skull.
She started shaking. Convulsing. Fitting.
&nbs
p; And as Noah watched her, his heart pounded harder. He didn’t get it. Didn’t understand.
But something was happening.
Something was changing with her.
Something was...
The Reds standing around the leader dropped their rifles to the ground.
Clutched their throats.
Started shaking. Frothing at the mouths. Fitting, blood seeping out of their mouths, ears, eyes, nostrils.
The leader stood there. Rifle hand shaking. Furrowed brow. Confusion on his face.
“What...” he started.
Blood poured out of his mouth.
He clutched his throat.
His face turning blue.
His rifle falling to the ground.
And all this time, Iqrah lying there on the ground. Twitching. Shaking.
More violent than he’d ever seen.
“Iqrah,” he said.
But she kept on going.
Even though the Reds were on the ground.
Even though they were twitching. Choking on their blood. Fitting and shaking.
Even though they were struggling for their final breaths.
“Iqrah, please,” he said. “It’s... it’s over. It’s...”
Gasps.
Strained gasps from the guards.
Another few shakes.
Another few twitches.
Shrieks of agony and fits of desperation.
And then they just stopped.
Just like that, they went still.
Iqrah kept on shaking. Whites of her eyes totally red in the darkness.
Face covered in blood.
“Iqrah,” Noah said, rushing over to her. “Stop!”
And then her eyes rolled back into place.
She looked up at Noah. Looked right into his eyes.
A smile stretched at the corners of her blood-soaked mouth.
“Thank you,” she said. “For helping me find them. For...”
And then her eyes closed, and she let out a sigh.
“Iqrah?” Noah said.
He checked her pulse.
Nothing.
Breathing.
Nothing.
“Iqrah!”
He laid her on her back.
Breathed into her mouth.
Did compressions on her chest, again, again, again.
“Iqrah!”
But it didn’t matter how long he went on like this.
It didn’t matter how hard he tried.
It didn’t matter how much he told himself this couldn’t happen.
Iqrah’s heart had stopped.
Iqrah’s breathing had stopped.
Iqrah was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Two weeks later...
Noah opened his eyes, and his stomach sank that he’d lived through another night.
It was dark above him. A smell of damp filled this cabin. It wasn’t a big place. Just a small cabin in the woods he’d come across just over a week ago. He knew he needed to find somewhere secluded, far away from people, far away from anyone he could endanger, anyone he could alert to his presence.
He didn’t want the Reds to get their hands on him. He didn’t want the Society to get their hands on him. He didn’t want anyone to get their hands on him.
He just wanted to fade away. To disappear.
Because the one goal he’d found in life—the only goal he’d had left—was to protect Iqrah.
And now Iqrah was gone.
He closed his eyes. Shivered as the cold, damp wood stuck into his back. There was no mattress here. He slept in his clothes. He reeked. He didn’t really care. He could sleep anywhere at that moment. All he wanted to do was sleep. Felt like the only thing he actually could do well at the moment.
Sleep, and ruminate.
Sleep, and think about Iqrah.
Every time he thought of her, it was that final moment that flashed into his mind. Seeing her eyes roll back into her skull. Seeing the blood stream down her face. Feeling that strange tension in the air.
And then her eyes rolling back into place.
“Keep fighting,” she’d said.
And then she closed her eyes and went still.
The moments that followed were a blur. He remembered trying to revive her. Trying to bring her back. Clinging to some misguided hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a twist. Maybe it wasn’t the end of Iqrah. Because it couldn’t be. There had to be something more. She was everything. She was the future. She was hope.
But she was gone.
He remembered Kelly running over to him. Putting her hands on his shoulders. Trying to get him to his feet. Telling him how sorry she was. Shel looking on, wide-eyed, like even she was staggered by the events that’d unfolded.
He remembered them trying to get him to go back to the industrial estate with them. Remembered them trying to convince him they had his best interests at heart. That it was safe for him there.
But he remembered pushing them away and running. Just running.
Because he wasn’t safe around them. They weren’t safe around him.
He needed to be alone. That was the way of his life. That’s the way it had to be from this point on.
He looked around into the darkness. Shivered in the cool air. Heard rain pounding down on the leaky roof above. There was another option. Opting out. Doing exactly what Iqrah had done. Because as impossible as it was to consider, to think about, he was pretty sure she knew exactly what she was doing. Pretty sure she knew she was opting out. That she was sacrificing herself to end this mad chase.
She’d made that decision. She’d made that call. As horrifying and impossible as it was.
And Noah couldn’t shake the feeling it should’ve been him.
He stared into the darkness. Into the mould. There was a stool at the other side of the cabin. It would be so easy to just step up there. To wrap a wire around one of the wooden panels on the roof. To end it, once and for all.
And sometimes, in his loneliest moments, it felt like the best option. For everyone, really. It felt like the only way.
Because everyone was gone.
Everyone was gone.
And if they weren’t gone—people like Kelly—they were better off without him.
They were better off.
He closed his eyes. Stomach churning. He was losing weight. He hadn’t eaten or drank properly for a fortnight. And maybe that was the way to go. Maybe he didn’t have to hang himself to end it. Maybe he could just sleep, and eventually, one day, he wouldn’t open his eyes. He wouldn’t wake up.
Maybe that was the best option.
He squeezed his eyes together. Tears stung them. Because he felt he’d lost his purpose. He felt he’d lost his meaning. And as much as he tried to revisit the therapy techniques he’d learned, as much as he tried to lift himself from this darkness, just like he’d lifted himself in the past... he felt this was a cloud that wasn’t going to rise.
He heard movement outside.
He opened his eyes.
Shuffling out there.
Footsteps.
He shivered. He didn’t know why he was so worried anymore. If the Reds were here for him, let them be here for him. If the Society were here for him... same.
Those footsteps got closer. And he just lay here. Let them find him. Let them take him. Let them do what they wanted with him.
Because he was done.
He kept his eyes squeezed tight.
Heard shuffling at the door. Heard scuttling. More like an animal than a human. A dog. A...
That’s when he heard it.
A whine.
He opened his eyes again.
He wasn’t sure whether he was imagining things. Wasn’t sure if it was all in his head.
But that whine.
It sounded familiar.
He got up. Walked across the rickety wooden floor. Reached the door.
Stood there and listened to the scratching at the other side of it.
&nbs
p; He stared at the door. Part of him didn’t want to open it. Because part of him didn’t want to see he was wrong.
And part of him didn’t want to become responsible, all over again.
He closed his eyes.
Took a deep breath.
Then he opened the door.
When he saw who was sitting there, for the first time in two weeks, a smile stretched across his face.
Chapter Forty
Noah opened the door and thought he was imagining things.
There was a dog at the doorstep. Rain-soaked. Wet bandage around his paw, which was a little reddened, a little stained by blood. He looked thin. A few bites across his head, his back, like he’d been in a few scrapes. His eye looked a bit bloodshot, too.
But there was no denying who this was.
He’d recognise him in an instant.
“Bruno,” Noah said, his voice shaking. “Come here, boy.”
Bruno didn’t need any telling. He ran up to Noah. Stood on his back legs and pawed his chest, licked his face.
And as much as he smelled like he’d been in a swamp for days, Noah let him. He held on to him. Cuddled him, played with him. This was impossible. It couldn’t be happening to him. It couldn’t be reality.
But it was.
Bruno was here.
He’d found him.
Somehow, against all the odds, he’d found him.
He stepped back into the cabin. And weirdly, it was only with Bruno here that he saw things with clarity. It was only with him present that he started to see through the dark thoughts he’d been having. The thoughts of suicide. The thoughts of ending things. The thoughts of his inherent worthlessness.
“Come on,” he said. “It isn’t much of a place, but it’s somewhere. We can... we can lay low here. Stay out the way, you know?”
But saying these words to Bruno felt like a betrayal. It felt like he was going back to the way he used to live, just over a month ago unbelievably. A secluded life that Iqrah had turned upside down. An isolated life that at the time, seemed ideal. Seemed perfect.
But since he’d tasted something else, since he’d tasted connection, closeness, responsibility... he wasn’t sure he could go back to the old way of living.
But what was he supposed to do? Go to Kelly’s place? Put them in danger?