by Casey, Ryan
He moved in with his old schoolmate, Eddie. Shared a flat together just outside town. It wasn’t exactly the nicest flat. Fifth storey, bit of a ropey area.
But it’d do. It was something. Something he could hold on to as a sign he was at least partly responsible for himself. Anything to avoid running back to his parents—as much as the idea of self-responsibility still terrified him to this day.
He’d bounced around jobs, doing whatever he could to make rent. He dreamed of going back to university to do a masters or a doctorate someday, but that seemed further away than ever.
And maybe that’s where his lack of motivation came from. The sense that his life wasn’t going anywhere at all. Maybe that’s what held him back.
He turned the corner, and he saw his bus sitting at the stop.
He froze. Heart pounded. He glanced at his watch. Twenty to eight. Took about ten minutes to get into town. He could make it. He could still make it.
He raced towards the side of the road. Busy. Cars flying past either direction. But flowing freely. A good sign.
And then he saw something.
The bus.
Its lights came on.
It started to edge out into the road.
“No,” Noah shouted. “Wait!”
Without even thinking, he threw himself into the road.
A sudden blast of a horn.
He spun around.
A car came flying towards him, cracking into his side and knocking him to the concrete.
He tasted blood. Went dizzy. Heard someone beside him getting out of their car, asking if he was okay; if he needed help.
And maybe if he’d been thinking straight, he could’ve played on this with work. Pretended this was what held him back. He was knocked over. That’s why he was late. Nothing to do with his laziness. Nothing at all.
But instead, he pushed himself up. Ignored the person asking if he was okay. Ignored the pain in his ribs, the limp, the taste of blood.
And then he saw his bus pull away and disappear down the street.
Noah stood there, right by the side of the road, blood trickling down his face. The next bus was in twenty minutes, and it would be too late by that point. He could try running, but he figured being hit by a car wasn’t going to help much with that.
He lifted his phone out of his pocket. Opened up his contacts. Hovered over Work.
And then he tapped the screen knowing full well he didn’t have a choice anymore.
He listened to the rings. Hoped his boss—Gavin, not Collin, by the way—would have some sympathy. Even though he’d overslept a number of times in the last two months already. Even though this wasn’t a unique occurrence.
The ringing stopped. A heavy breathing. Then a voice. “Hello?”
Noah swallowed a lump in his throat and took a deep breath as that pain stretched up his ribs even further. “Gavin,” he said. “It’s … I’m afraid I’m going to be a little late.”
He waited for a response. Waited for an answer. Waited for something other than that heavy breathing, so pungent, he could almost smell it from here.
And then the line went dead.
“Gavin?” Noah said.
He looked at his phone.
The call had been cancelled.
Noah lowered his phone. Stuffed it into his pocket. Then he limped over to the bus stop and stood there in the blinding sun.
He was in even deeper shit than he’d first thought.
Chapter Three
Jasmine sat in her office and prepared to deliver the hardest news of her career yet.
It was a warm morning. Outside, on the streets of Preston, she could hear car horns honking. Up here, on the eighth floor of her office block, she could smell the fumes from outside. A desk fan spun away in the corner of the room, pathetically attempting to circulate air. The room itself was lifeless. One long, light oak desk right in the middle. Nothing on the table but a jug of water that hadn’t been topped up in days. Across the walls, various posters, all of them smeared with motivational quotes like “Success is in the Mind!” and “Henderson’s Promotes Diversity!” All nice ideas. Nice slogans. But they didn’t mean a damned thing. Not in the scheme of things.
Jasmine glanced through the notes on Kelly in front of her. They didn’t look good. Several days off sick, some of them at the very last minute. A few no shows. And worst of all, complaints by several members of the public about her attitude. Sure, Jasmine knew about some problems she had going on at home. Breakups. Shit like that. And Jasmine sympathised. She really did.
But at the end of the day, all things considered, work was work.
It didn’t matter that Kelly was Jasmine’s best friend of ten years.
When it came to her responsibilities at this firm, Jasmine took them very seriously.
Henderson’s was a construction firm slap bang in the middle of the city. It’d been through a rough few years when Jasmine joined, part of why they were so willing to take a gamble on a girl in her mid-twenties in a management role.
But ever since, there’d been a construction boom in the city, and Henderson’s were at the forefront of it.
That stroke of good luck saw Jasmine climbing her way right to the top.
She was a senior manager now. Pretty much deputy of this place behind Jim Henderson, the brains behind the gig. Not bad for a twenty-eight-year-old.
And sure. Was this the path she imagined her life taking when she went travelling across Indonesia in her early twenties? Not exactly.
But dreams were futile. She didn’t know anyone living a life where they were truly happy in what they were doing. And those who claimed they were, well. They were either lying, or they weren’t actually going anywhere in life.
Like her ex, Noah.
Her heart dropped a little when she thought of him.
She hadn’t been in a relationship since she broke up with Noah two years ago. Sure, she’d had dates. She’d had the odd fling. But nothing serious. Nothing lasting.
She still felt guilty about what she’d done to Noah. But she felt like they were going in different directions in life. He wasn’t responsible enough for himself. He didn’t take life seriously enough.
They were incompatible.
And since their breakup, Jasmine had no choice but to prioritise her work and throw herself into it fully.
She heard a bang at the door. Looked up.
Saw Kelly standing there.
She was tall. Blonde. Slim. Gorgeous green eyes, and this distinctive little freckle on her chin that made her stand out from the crowd.
And when she knew she was in trouble, she had this wide-eyed look to her, like a rabbit in the headlights.
An immediate wave of sympathy crashed over Jasmine.
Because she cared about Kelly. Kelly was her friend.
But she looked back down at the list of misdemeanours, and she knew what she had to do.
Separate the personal from the professional.
“Kelly,” she said, standing up, smiling, holding out a hand. “Take a seat.”
Kelly frowned. “Jas? I’m not used to you looking at me like that. Summat wrong?”
Jasmine—or Jas, as Kelly knew her—again felt tempted to break this version of herself she was putting across. Because Kelly was her friend. She deserved another chance. She deserved to give this another shot.
But in the end, she just kept her hand out until Kelly took it—reluctantly—and then sat back down at the table.
“Take a seat. There’s water in the jug if you want it—”
“Jas, I can explain. My mum’s not been well. And all the guy shit... You know how it is. It’s—it’s just life at the moment. It’s getting on top of me. You know how it is.”
She looked into Jasmine’s eyes, and Jasmine saw the panic. She saw the desperation. It was unusual for Kelly. Something Jasmine wasn’t used to seeing. Kelly usually put across such a strong front. And she felt sorry for her. So, so sorry.
But then Kell
y had skipped far too many days. She was making big mistakes at work. She wasn’t up to the job. And with her boss breathing down her neck and teasing her about the possibility of running this whole company, Jasmine had a tough decision to make.
“I’ve had a chance to analyse the complaints against you.”
“Are you firing me?”
Jasmine looked up at Kelly. Right into her eyes.
She was tempted to tell her: no. That’s not what this was. She was going to fight for her. She understood her problems. She was her best-damned friend, after all. She didn’t deserve this.
But she couldn’t lie.
“Kelly, I... I hate to do this. But I don’t think it’s working out—”
“You’re firing me, aren’t you? You’re firing your best friend.”
“Let’s not get personal here.”
“But it is personal,” Kelly shouted. She stood up. Dragged the chair back. Glared across the table with tears in her eyes. “Because this is all that matters to you, isn’t it?”
“Kel, that’s not true—”
“Don’t call me ‘Kel’. Don’t call me anything. You know what I’ve got going on. You know how much I’ve been dealing with. But it doesn’t matter to you, does it? Not as long as you stay nice and cosy with the Henderson family. Not as long as you get that top job.”
Jasmine shook her head. It was all she could do. “That’s not what this is about.”
“Go on then. What’s that there? What’s that pen and paper about? You want me to sign something, do you?”
Jasmine tried to maintain her composure. “We’ve prepared a very generous redundancy package. You’ll receive strong references. You’ll walk into a new job in no time. I’ll make sure it happens, Kelly. But you’ve got to sort yourself out. Seriously.”
Kelly looked across the table at her. Shook her head. “You’re a psychopath; you know that? An absolute psychopath.”
“Kelly—”
“It’s not just about the job. You’ve been the same ever since I met you. You’re selfish. You’ve only ever cared about yourself.”
“Kel, you know that’s not—”
“Don’t,” Kelly said, tears streaming down her face. “Just... don’t.”
Silence between them. A pause. Tension splitting through the air.
“I saw this coming, to be honest. Those papers you’ve got there. I’ll give you my solicitor’s details, and you can send it over to them.”
“Kelly, I strongly advise you don’t—”
“Speak to my solicitor,” Kelly said. “We’re done here.”
She stepped to the office door and opened it. Looked back at Jasmine, right into her eyes, with a look Jasmine had never seen from her before.
A look of pure disdain.
“Don’t contact me again.”
And then she slammed the door shut, and Jasmine was alone.
She listened to the cars honking their horns outside. Saw those empty slogans staring down from her office walls. Listened to the silence in here. Her heart raced, and she felt like throwing up.
She might be on her way to a promotion.
But she was friendless.
All over again.
Chapter Four
Harvey Watson couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he started feeling unwell.
But sitting on this airplane on the second of his two flights back from Svalbard, he had no recollection of ever feeling this unwell in his life before.
He was boiling. Absolutely boiling. Sweat poured down his face in reams. His throat felt swollen, so much so that he was finding it hard to breathe easily. Every now and then, a cold shiver split right the way down his spine, taking him from roasting to icy cold in the space of a moment. His stomach was on fire, like a thousand knives were digging in, stabbing in and out of him repeatedly.
His legs shook. Every moment that passed, something else felt terrible.
And all he could think of was that mass grave he’d discovered, the slushy melted mud, and the bone he’d taken from that place.
He knew he was stupid, thinking back. He’d read about permafrost in the Arctic Circle before. Read about how climate change was contributing towards an increase in temperature that was melting layers of soil that had remained frozen for years.
And in those layers of frost, all sorts of nasty demons could reside. Ancient bacteria. Deadly viruses. In 2016, in a remote corner of Siberia, a twelve-year-old boy died, and twenty others were hospitalised in a critical condition after being infected by anthrax.
Why?
Eighty years ago, a reindeer infected with anthrax died, and its frozen carcass was trapped under a layer of this permafrost. It remained there until 2016, where unusually warm temperatures woke it up. The anthrax was preserved. Not only that, but it was released into the nearby water supplies and food supplies, infecting thousands of reindeer.
And the fears were that even deadlier things could be hidden in that frost. Smallpox. Strains of flu that modern-day societies weren’t capable of dealing with.
He thought of those thick skulls and felt a sickening sense that he’d stumbled upon something momentous without even realising it.
Especially with how much those thick, large skulls looked like those of Neanderthals.
“You okay, mate? You look like you’re on the verge of shitting yourself.”
Harvey spun around. Saw Fred beside him, a slight smirk to his face. The bastard revelled in seeing people suffering.
But then he didn’t know how serious this was.
He wished he was next to Kev. At least he was more understanding. But he was a few rows ahead, no doubt watching some arty-farty movie.
And Harvey couldn’t get over the paranoia—unlikely as it was—that this wasn’t any ordinary illness he had.
“I... I just need to rest,” Harvey said, closing his burning eyes, which hurt even more than keeping them open and staring into the light.
“No, you definitely need a shit. You fucking reek, mate. Why don’t you, like, hang out in the bathroom for a while? Warm the seat up for me.”
Harvey started to become conscious of his surroundings, then. The glances he was getting from other people. The judgemental looks they gave him, one by one. The looks of disgust.
A wave of burning warmth engulfed him, and he threw himself to his feet, clambering his way over Fred in the process.
Fred writhed back. “Shit, mate! What the hell? Try your best not to leak on me on your way.”
Harvey realised what Fred was on about, then.
The warmth around his crotch.
The dampness.
And that ghastly smell of piss, stronger than he’d ever experienced.
He looked down and saw his trousers were drenched.
And he couldn’t stop himself.
His cheeks flushed. Embarrassment engulfed him.
“I... I need to...”
“Sir, are you okay?”
He looked around. In a haze. Saw cabin crew rushing towards him, both pitiful and horrified.
“I... I just need to get to the bathroom, he said, clambering along. I just need to ...”
He dragged himself up to his feet. Pulled the arm of a man on the seat beside him, who immediately yanked it away.
And then he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Sir? You—you don’t look well.”
He looked around into this man’s eyes. A black guy. Tall. Muscular. Handsome.
Harvey’s head was on fire.
It felt like it was going to explode.
“I... I need...”
And then just like that, with a click of a finger, it stopped.
No pain.
No burning.
Nothing.
He smiled. Looked around. Clarity returning. “I—I think I’m going to be okay now.”
The man stared back at him, frowning. “I think we should—”
And then it all happened in an instant.
The taste of molten metal creeping up Harvey’s
throat.
The most agonising stabbing pain, right in the middle of his body.
And then he had no idea what happened next.
Whatever it was, it lasted a while. Something spurting out of his mouth. Screams. Shouts. And the sound of vomiting, too.
When Harvey opened his eyes, he saw exactly what’d happened.
The man before him was dripping blood. Thick red chunks clung to his white shirt. A few of the other people around him were covered in it, too. Shouting. Trying to wipe it from their eyes.
And Harvey felt it rolling down his chin.
“Sir,” the cabin crew guy said, trying his best to keep his composure despite the horrors unfolding around him. “I think we need to land this plane.”
And then the announcer bleeped above.
The seatbelt warning lit up.
This plane was approaching Manchester, and it was landing imminently.
He looked around at all these people on this plane, and he felt something, then. Some... urge. That’s the only way he could explain it. A primal desire inside him to share his experience. To share what he had. To seek out some kind of help. Some kind of unity.
Like a voice in his head, singing a song.
Spread it spread it spread it
And then he saw something.
Kev.
Staring at him.
Peeking around the side of his seat.
He looked pale. Clammy. His cheeks were swollen.
But it was his eyes that really caught Harvey’s attention.
The blood streaming from them, all bloodshot, totally red.
“I don’t—don’t feel so good,” Kev said.
And then blood spurted from his ears.
From his nostrils.
From his mouth and even more from his eyes.
And all Harvey could do, as his body grew weaker and weaker, was stand there.
All he could do was taste that blood.
And all he could do was hold on to that piece of bone in his pocket, and think of the mass grave in Svalbard, five days ago.
He’d gone on this trip to find something.
He’d left with more than he bargained for.
Chapter Five
Noah sat in the dingy little staff room at the back of Collin’s and waited for Gavin to deliver the news he already knew was coming.