by Ryan Casey
Kelly looked off into the clouds and sighed. She knew Shel was right, logically. As long as Noah was alive, he was a danger to be around because the Society weren’t going to just stop hunting him down.
But at the same time… that didn’t matter. It was irrelevant.
Because regardless of how many people Noah knew here, he was one of them.
And they didn’t leave their people behind.
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” Kelly said. “And… and as much as I get it… I can’t just let go of Noah. I know he’s a danger to be around. I know he’s gonna bring trouble to our doorstep if he’s here. But trouble’ll find us anyway. With or without Noah. I just… I just hope wherever he is out there, he’s okay. Because I care for that dickhead. He means a lot to me. And he meant a lot to somebody I cared about very much.”
She stared off into space. Off into the thunderclouds. Off into the growing darkness.
Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.
She looked around. Saw Shel looking at her. Half-smile on her face.
“He’s a tough motherfucker,” she said. “Hell. He fucking well overthrew me, so he must be, right?”
Kelly smiled back at her. She wanted to believe Shel was right. Noah made his choice. And they’d found each other again in the past. Who was to say they wouldn’t find each other again?
“He just needs his time,” Kelly said.
“Too right,” Shel said. “Just needs his goddamned time. Now come on, security. You’re slacking. And I think I just saw Fat Rose nicking some squirrel down by the food court.”
Shel started to walk away. Kelly watched her. Smiled at her. Felt a lot better, even with this smallest of interactions.
She looked back over her shoulder once more. Once again, unable to totally detach herself. Once again, unable to totally step back.
That’s when she saw them.
At first, she thought she was imagining things.
But the closer she looked, the more she realised they were there.
They were real.
And they were heading this way.
“Kel?” Shel said. “What… Shit.”
Kelly stared into the sky and watched as the eight helicopters headed towards them, towards the industrial estate.
And something in the pit of her stomach told her a storm was coming.
A storm unlike anything they’d encountered before.
Chapter Forty-Four
Cameron stepped up the hill from the middle of the woods and looked down at the industrial estate.
He smiled. He’d heard a lot about this place. Heard it was the last place the dude Noah was before the girl died. That was a setback. A real goddamned hitch. She was powerful. More powerful than anyone, apparently. Without her, their hopes of some kind of end to this virus were pretty much zilch as it stood.
They’d been ordered to back off Noah for a while, while they figured out whether they could get what they needed with him alone. It’d thrown all their damned plans right up in the air. Iqrah and Noah were the key. They were together, which meant they could take them back to their base and do what they needed to do with them.
And when they had what they needed from them, they could throw them the hell away. Discard them.
And then the rest of the damned nation—the rest of the damned world—would get in line.
But a couple of weeks had passed now, and no mention of Noah. No mention of the plans. Until yesterday. Word that the powers that be wanted Noah again. That they wanted to bring him in. Because it was dangerous for him to be out here. Something to do with the helicopters. Something to do with dead bodies. Slime-laden dead bodies.
Apparently, the game had changed. And who the hell was Cameron to argue?
He looked down the hill at the industrial estate. He was flanked by ten of the Reds’ best. They were fully armed. They had to be ready for whatever this place threw at them.
Because the orders from above were clear. If this community didn’t comply, they had every right to gun every last one of them down, until they got to Noah.
“You ready?”
Cameron looked around. Saw Bertie standing at his side. Bertie was a good lad. Loyal. A true Red. He felt good having Bertie by his side. Felt stronger. Like anything was possible.
He nodded. “Too right, I’m ready. This shit’s dragged on far too long. Time to drag the fucker out by the scruff of the…”
He stopped.
Because overhead, he heard something.
Not thunder, which he thought at first. Not wind. Not even gunshots from the industrial estate, who he feared might’ve got first sight of them.
Not infected.
Not Society.
Cameron looked up at the sky.
Overhead, he saw the helicopters passing over, wading their way through the clouds.
He frowned. The others looked up, frowned too. These helicopters. He’d heard about them. Heard rumours about them. But the fact they were now here… the fact they were now passing over…
“What…” Bertie started.
He didn’t finish.
None of them finished.
It was only moments after the helicopters passed over that Cameron and Bertie breathed their final breaths.
That all of those Reds breathed their final breaths.
Chapter Forty-Five
Noah felt the armoured vehicle grind to a halt, and he knew it was time.
He clutched on to a rifle as he lay there in the back of the van. Stared off into the darkness of the closed door. His heart raced. His chest was tight. By his side, Bruno panted away.
Truth be told, he didn’t really know what the hell he was going to do. What the hell his plan was here. He kind of hoped the doors would swing open, and he could just blast all these Society fuckers into the ground, but he wasn’t Rambo.
But that knowledge. That thought that they were heading to the industrial estate for some reason, heading there because they truly believed him to be there. That meant they were a threat to Kelly. To Shel. And to Iqrah’s memory.
So he’d do whatever he could to stand up and protect them.
And if he got caught along the way… then so be it. That’s how it was supposed to be. That was his destiny.
But he wasn’t going down without a fight.
The engines of the van rumbled away. He could hear the other vans behind this one. So many Society guards. All of them heading to one place. He knew Kelly’s folks at the industrial estate had a bit of firepower, but this was something else altogether.
He thought about those explosives he’d seen in the back of one of the vans. He thought about what they had planned with them.
And he wondered if he could get to them and halt this threat in its tracks, once and for all.
He sat there. Bruno started to whine. His heart raced. The tension in the air grew heavier.
And all the while, he couldn’t shake the sense that something greater was coming. Something greater than him, than the Society, than the Reds, than all of this.
His thoughts kept going back to the bodies at Blackpool. To the helicopters.
And to those dying words of the Society guard.
“Heli…”
He closed his eyes as the voices grew louder. Tried to tap into that void inside him, tried to sink into its energy, to no avail. He still felt weak. Still felt broken. Ever since Iqrah died, he felt like he’d never harness that energy he knew he had in him again.
But maybe he just had to keep trying.
Maybe he had to do what Iqrah had done.
Because she’d done it. She’d shown willingness. She’d shown strength.
She’d broken the chain. Done the unexpected. She’d sacrificed herself to stop them capturing her and Noah.
So what was he going to do? Just let them take him? Was that really in honour of Iqrah’s legacy?
No. Not a fucking chance.
He went to take a breath when he heard the doors at the back of
the van open.
Light filled the van, made Noah squint. Bruno started to groan, so Noah whispered to him, tried to reassure him. He didn’t want to blow this cover. Didn’t want to give himself away.
He stayed totally still. Squinted at the van doors. Expected a whole army of Society guards to come piling in.
But instead, he saw just one guy.
“Hurry the fuck up, Harry. Should’ve got yourself a rifle before we set off.”
“Okay,” the guy said, shaking his head. “Okay. Cut me some fuckin’ slack, alright? Shittin’ myself a bit here. Just nervous, okay?”
He stumbled into the back of the van. He was a short guy, long curly black hair right down to his shoulders. Thin and slight, with these thick-rimmed glasses sitting comically above his mask.
He stared into the darkness of the back of the van. Looked around, his left eye squinting away.
“Righto,” he said. “Rifle. Get myself a damned rifle. Fuckin’ idiots.”
Noah watched him walk right over towards him. He kept his rifle pointed. Heart racing. Held on to Bruno with the bicep of his fucked arm. He didn’t want to pull the trigger. Didn’t want to start the shit right now.
But if this guy saw him, he was fucked.
The man—Harry—walked right over to the box at the side of Noah. Lifted the blanket over the top of it. Smirked, and went to reach in there.
And that’s when Noah sensed his opportunity.
He threw himself up.
Cracked his rifle against Harry’s head.
Sent him tumbling to the van floor.
Harry stared up. Blood pooling from his head. A look of shock across his wide eyes, which were magnified beneath his cracked glasses.
Noah stood over him. Rifle in hand. The door to the back of the van wide open, and people wandering around there outside.
And then he saw Harry open his mouth.
Heard him start to let out a cry.
He whacked him over the head with the rifle.
Cracked its butt against his skull.
Then he battered it again, again, again, until his skull crunched, and until his attempted scream was nothing more than a mumble, and then nothing.
He dropped his rifle. Unzipped Harry’s Society gear. Started to change into it. The mask was a no-go, but if he could at least disguise himself a little—throw their gear on—he might have a shot.
But then, as he pulled the black jacket over his body, he spotted his arm, and he smiled.
His damned missing forearm. The goddamned giveaway of his identity.
How the fuck was he supposed to keep that under wraps?
“Harry?”
He looked around. Heard footsteps heading his way.
Shit.
He pulled the Society black on.
And then he zipped up and grabbed Harry’s mask, even though it was broken and bloody, and yanked it over his face.
“Harry? What the hell you doing in there?”
Noah looked around and saw him.
A tall guy. Muscular. Mask around his chin. Didn’t look like he was the kind of guy who fucked around.
He looked at Noah. Distant. Disinterested.
And Noah waited for him to recognise him.
Waited for him to realise it wasn’t Harry at all.
But he just stood there and stared at Noah. “Come the fuck on. We don’t have all day, buddy. Gotta walk the last stretch. Element of surprise, and all.”
Noah nodded. “Sure,” he said, trying to deepen his voice a little. “Give me a sec.”
The man rolled his eyes, stuck up his middle finger. “A sec. Two secs. Always a fucking liability, Harry. Always a fucking liability.”
He walked away from the back of the van.
Outside, Noah saw more vans parked up.
Figures standing around them.
Rifles in their hands.
He felt a knot in his stomach. Wondered how the hell he was going to explain himself. Wondered how the hell he was going to explain Bruno.
“And bring the dog with you!” the bloke shouted. “These guard dogs ain’t worth shit, really. More interested in food than anything.”
Noah looked at Bruno. Smiled.
Bruno looked back up at him. Tilted his head, a little confused.
“Looks like you’re a guard dog now, lad,” Noah said.
And then he stood up.
Walked to the back of the van.
Rifle in hand.
He stood on the threshold. Saw more Society figures. Saw them all walking, rifles in hand. All in order. Some of them with dogs beside them.
All heading in one direction.
The industrial estate.
He looked back at Harry’s dead, twitching body. His broken skull.
And then he turned around.
Took a deep breath.
Dropped out of the van.
Into the unknown.
Chapter Forty-Six
Noah walked amongst the Society guards towards the industrial estate and tried not to lose his shit.
It was mid-afternoon. A chill to the air, which sent a shiver up his spine. All around him, trees. Trees that he knew would soon give way to the view of the industrial estate.
All these Society guards—hundreds of them—all walking towards Kelly’s place. All in search of him.
And here he was, walking with them, trying to figure out what the fuck to do.
The explosives plan was dead in the water since they’d ditched the vans. Which left only one option. The nuclear option. Find a way to tap into that void inside himself. Channel that energy like Iqrah had. Destroy every single person here and protect the industrial estate with his life.
But that felt like a wildcard. He didn’t feel like he had the energy or strength left in him to do a thing like that. Not anymore.
But fuck. He had to try. Or he was doomed. They were all doomed.
He walked amongst this crowd of Society guards. They didn’t look at one another. Didn’t interact. He was up front, with the rest of the dogs. At first, he worried they might notice Bruno wasn’t like the other dogs. But weirdly, they didn’t mention it. Didn’t even mention his damned arm. It was like they were so busy trying to locate one location—so convinced that Noah was in one place—that they weren’t seeing what was right in front of them.
The longer that worked for Noah, the better.
The further they walked, the chillier it got. A breeze picked up above. There was a weird atmosphere in the air. A sense that they were on the brink of something. That conflict was on the horizon.
That’s when the leader of these guards stopped. Turned around.
“We’ve got sightings of Reds up ahead,” he said.
A few grumbles amongst the crowd. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” the leader said. “Shit indeed. A fair batch of ’em, too. Seems like they’ve got the same idea as us.”
“So what do we do?”
The leader of the Society group looked around. Like he was studying every one of them here. He took a deep breath and spat onto the ground. “We outnumber them whether they like it or not. This is a war now. So we do what we’ve gotta do. But you’re soldiers. Remember that. And sometimes, soldiers die. You’ve got to be prepared. Just remember it’s for a good cause. Right?”
A few mumbles of discontent amidst the crowd.
A sense that these guards were walking right into a conflict they hadn’t signed up for.
“Right?!” the leader echoed.
“Right!”
“Okay,” he said. “Much fucking better. Now come on. We’re almost there. Any prayers you want to get off your chest beforehand, get ’em said now. You might not get another chance.”
The group walked on. Shoulders a little more slumped. A sense of nervousness in the air. A couple of the guards sneakily removing their masks, barfing into the bushes.
It felt like a march to war because that’s what this was. And Noah was right in the middle of it. The very thin
g they were fighting over, the very thing they sought—the very thing they were going to lose lives over—and here he was, walking with them.
He looked around at some of these people. Their faces were young. Boys, barely out of their teens. Kids who had been dragged into a vicious war, all because of what he had. All because he was reluctant to give himself up to them.
All because he couldn’t comply with their demands.
All because he couldn’t give himself up.
And he found himself questioning again. Found himself second-guessing. Wondering whether he was doing the right thing. Whether there was a better way. A way he could work this out.
If he surrendered, he saved lives. So many lives.
But then did he? Really?
The Reds would keep coming.
The battle for power would keep on going.
Who was he really helping by giving himself up?
The truth was… both of these groups needed destroying. Neither of them deserved the power they craved. Neither of them deserved any kind of cure.
He walked to the edge of the woods when he saw it up ahead.
The industrial estate. The tall chimneys. The metal fencing. Little dots of life down there. A community, just getting by. Surviving. No desire for conflict. No desire for war.
He stood there, rifle in hand, and his heart began to race again. Because once again, he had a chance here. Surrender. Or at least try to harness that energy inside him. At least try to do what Iqrah did.
Sacrifice herself. For the greater good.
Something he should’ve been strong enough to do.
He closed his eyes and held his breath when he heard something overhead.
At first, he thought it was an engine.
He thought it was a van heading their way. One of the vans they’d abandoned. And he worried they might’ve come across Harry’s body. They might’ve found him, and then they’d be over here and onto Noah before he had a chance to do a thing.
But then he realised something.
It wasn’t an engine. At least, not the engine of a van.