by Casey, Ryan
And then putting a knife in his temple before he could rise as an infected again and burying him by the water.
He’d stayed here ever since. Made this place his home. Nobody ever came by here really, especially not in the early days. Some infected from time to time, but they were fewer by the month.
It seemed like the infection had shifted again. Like it worked in cycles. And when the Society set up the quarantine districts across the country, it really felt like the world had grappled with the virus. Like people were finally adapting to a new kind of normal, once and for all.
It was a different kind of normal, of course. The kind of dystopian future you read about in books. All fair and well if you stuck to the rules—and didn’t get sick.
But break the rules even slightly… or get sick…
You were in major fucking trouble.
Noah turned on his rickety, springy mattress. Saw a few woodlice creeping along its edge. He thought about his “abilities,” if he could call them that. Always found that term a bit cheesy, but then what else could he call them? Anyway. His ability to resist the infected. To turn them away. And, to some extent, to control them.
He didn’t like thinking about these abilities, though. Because they reminded him too much of that day with Kelly and Edward.
Kelly being determined to stay put. Not to move on. Because they were safe. They had nothing to worry about.
Noah pushing on, because the thought of standing still scared him.
And how that had cost their lives.
How he had cost their lives.
He rolled over again. He didn’t like to wallow in guilt or self-pity. But the solution was simple. He couldn’t get attached to anyone else. He couldn’t let himself bond with other people. He was a danger to other people. Not just because he was a fucking irresponsible idiot, but because he literally had something going on inside him he didn’t understand.
Better to just stay on the fringes of society. Do his own hunting. His own fishing. Fend for himself.
And then one day, he would die here, and he would at least go to the grave with the knowledge that he didn’t do anyone else any more harm.
He thought about Kelly. He’d never found her body, that awful day. Part of him wanted to believe she’d survived. That she was still out there, somewhere.
But if she was, and if they actually ran into one another again, she’d hate him. She’d detest him for what had happened. She would never forgive him.
Because Edward’s death was on Noah.
He closed his eyes. Shook his head. She wasn’t alive. No chance she’d survived that.
Probably walking around, infected. All her rage and fury directed at him…
He heard Barney snoring harder and heavier than usual. Reached down a hand, patted his matted, bumpy fur.
“It’s alright, lad. It’s alright.”
Barney wagged his tail, thumped it against the floor. Something Bruno didn’t seem too happy about, as he let out a forced sigh.
He thought about this place. How he was being moved on from here in a couple of days. He wondered if he could make a break for it. He dreamed of living a solo life, out there beyond the perimeter, deep in No Man’s Land. He knew it was dangerous. Knew it was a risk. He’d heard all kinds of stories of the horrors beyond the safe confines of the districts.
But at the same time, maybe that was the kind of risk he needed in his life. What fun was a life like this?
He took a deep breath. Sighed.
He wouldn’t make it far. He knew how strictly they manned the perimeters. And he knew they were probably watching him far more than he wanted to admit.
He kept on patting Barney, and then he pulled his hand away and lay back on the bed.
He closed his eyes.
Saw the same images as ever.
Kelly.
Edward.
The terrified stare in her eyes.
Edward’s cries, his screams, then…
He clenched his jaw.
Tried to push back the thoughts.
Tried to fight them.
Bit against his lip so hard that he tasted blood.
And that helped.
For a moment, the pain and the metallic taste of the blood brought him back into the moment.
It helped.
He squeezed his eyes shut, listened to Barney’s struggled snores, and tried to think of nice things. Of positive things. Of happiness.
But as he drifted closer to sleep, all he saw was Kelly’s pained eyes.
All he heard were Edward’s cries of despair.
And all he felt was guilt.
Chapter Five
Iqrah didn’t stop running for what felt like days.
It was sunny outside. So bright. The air smelled so fresh against her face. It reminded her of summers when she was younger. Summers as a child. The taste of barbecued fish. The smell of chlorine from the swimming pool water, clinging to her nostrils. The sound of laughter. The chimes of ice cream vans. So many good memories.
Forgotten memories. Lost times.
She didn’t look over her shoulder once. She just ran out of the lab and towards the trees. She heard things whizzing past her at first, slamming into the surrounding trees. Bullets, or more likely darts. She knew there was a chance one would hit her. And that if one did, it was game over for her. She would never see her parents again. She would end up tossed away like those other children. Thrown into the furnace. Shoes left neatly by the side of the corridor, a relic for another poor child like her to see.
But she’d ran into those woods as dogs barked behind her. She’d raced through the trees. Then through open areas of greenery. Then over railway lines, under old bridges, past lakes. She knew she needed water. She knew she needed food. But more than anything, she knew she had to keep on running.
She ended up in more woodlands sometime around the first time it went dark. She stopped by a large tree, which had collapsed, leaving a little den underneath. She rested there for a while, making sure she was alone. But she didn’t stay for long. She swore she heard movement in the distance. And as much as she was sure it was probably just animals, she didn’t want to take her chances, so got up and kept on running away.
The next day, she felt sick. She vomited into a stream, which she knew was a bad idea ’cause stream water was good, and she didn’t want to contaminate it or anything. She had the runs, then. Buried it in the ground. She felt sickly. Shivery. Cold; far colder than she should have been.
She wondered if the people at the lab had put something in her. Something to make her feel sick so that she had to go back to them. But then she figured it was probably just the nerves, the excitement, and just being outside again after all this time. That had to count for something.
She drank a little of the water. It tasted metallic, off, and it made her stomach cramp again later that day.
But for the most part, through all the exhaustion, all the pain, she kept on running.
Her first sign of life was a couple of tents deep in the woods. She saw something sitting above a fire. It looked like a rat, or maybe it was a squirrel without its fur. She looked around. Made sure it was totally clear. And then she rushed over there and grabbed it and took it away to some caves, where she gulped half of it down, vomited it back up, then ate the second half slower.
She sat there gripping her stomach as the wind picked up, and darkness approached. She remembered what Mum used to tell her when she felt sick. Deep breaths in through the nose, hold, then out again, longer on the exhale than the inhale. And if she still felt sick, a little warmed up brandy would do the trick. Something she knew wasn’t allowed. Was forbidden. But it was hers and mum’s little secret.
She didn’t remember falling asleep, but one second it was dark, and the next it was light—and she could hear something. Voices. Movement. Someone talking on some kind of crackly walkie-talkie. And she had that sense again that someone was after her. Chasing her. That she had to get away.
<
br /> So she stood up and started running when she saw them.
He had dark skin, but he was white. It looked like his skin had decayed and gone all mouldy. There were bits of skin dangling off his body, a redness underneath. He only had one eye.
He looked at Iqrah. Tilted his head.
One thing was clear.
This wasn’t just a man.
It was an infected man.
She tensed her jaw. It was the first time she’d come face to face with one of these for a long time, but she’d not forgotten just how afraid they made her feel.
She had to fight it. She had to play to her strengths.
She felt herself falling into that place, sinking into that place within her that she knew she had to fall into in these situations…
But before she could focus, he went racing towards her, zapping her out of her concentrated state.
Instinct kicked in. She spun around and ran. Ran as fast as she could. But she knew already it wasn’t fast enough. She wasn’t as quick as she had to be, as she used to be. She was tired. Exhausted. She didn’t have the stamina she once had. She couldn’t run much further.
But those footsteps got closer.
Those growls got louder.
She stopped and spun around and saw it all happen so fast.
First, the infected man launched himself at her.
She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for him to collide with her, to tear her to shreds...
And then she heard the blasts.
She saw his head split into pieces.
Cover her in blood.
She stood there a few seconds. Still. Not quite understanding.
Not until she looked behind the infected, to where the gunshots came from.
Behind the infected, she saw a man.
He looked tall. Well built. Dressed in blue. Wearing some kind of mask.
He held on to a rifle.
He looked at her, and even though he’d helped her, Iqrah got a bad feeling about him.
Something about him reminded her of the people at the lab.
The people who’d taken her from her parents.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said. A radio strapped to his waistband. “You lost?”
She wanted to ask for help. She wanted to stop running.
But in the end, she could only turn around and race away.
She heard gunshots whizz past her. Tumbled down a slope, bashed her face against the solid ground, covered it in mud and soil. Felt a tooth snap in her mouth, then hit the bottom of the slope where she was met with water and rock.
She dragged herself to her feet. Her neck ached. Her head spun. She wanted nothing more than to stop running.
But then she saw the man at the top of the slope.
Rifle pointed at her.
“Don’t move another muscle.”
She knew too well not to listen to him now.
She turned and kept running.
She raced through the trees, but they were getting thicker, harder to push through. She thought she heard voices either side of her. Snarls. Branches snapping. Whispers.
But all the time, she just kept her focus.
She kept on going.
Because it’s what she had to do.
For her parents.
She had to find them.
They had to know she was okay.
They couldn’t think she’d died. She couldn’t do that to them. She hated the thought that they might’ve given up on her. It tortured her. Tormented her.
She went to run on when she saw the bark of the tree beside her crack open.
She stopped. Took a left.
Another bullet whizzed past.
She looked around. Heart racing. Fists clenched.
And as she stood there, looking at this man, so close to her, rifle pointed at her, she knew her time was up.
He pointed the rifle at her. “There,” he said. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it? How about we focus on getting you back where you came from.”
He grabbed her arm. Tight.
Right where they’d injected her so many times over the years.
She tried to tap into that space. Tried to reach in and communicate with that openness inside her.
But she was scared. And time was running out. It was—
The man went to drag her away.
And in that exhausted moment, there was only one thing she could do.
Iqrah screamed.
Chapter Six
Noah opened his eyes and knew something was wrong right away.
It wasn’t the headache that split through his skull. That was pretty commonplace these days. And it wasn’t the sound of footsteps or anything like that, either. No, there was something else. Something that disturbed him. Unsettled him. Something that didn’t feel right. Just a... well. A feeling. A sense. Probably a load of bullshit. But something he couldn’t ignore.
He turned over on his creaky bed, squinted into the dim light of the dingy caravan, and saw what the problem was right away.
Bruno and Barney were always stood up and staring at him whenever he rolled over in the morning. Both always stood there, wagging their tails, waiting for whatever treat he had for them—even if that treat only came in the form of attention.
But something was different today.
Something had changed.
Bruno stood there. Staring at Noah. But there wasn’t that same wag to his tail. There was an uncertainty to his face. A confusion.
Noah soon saw why.
Barney lay right by the side of his bed. Right in front of Bruno.
He was totally still.
And he wasn’t snoring loudly, either.
A lump swelled in Noah’s throat immediately. His eyes began to burn. He knew Barney was an old dog, so he knew this day was coming. He’d told himself he was prepared for it. Told himself he would be strong enough to handle it when the day finally came.
But now it was finally here… the sadness felt overwhelming. The pain felt overwhelming.
He climbed out of bed. Inhaled deeply. Leaned down to Bruno and ruffled his fur. “It’s okay, lad. Don’t you worry. We’re gonna be okay, you and me. We’re gonna be okay.”
But as Noah looked down at Barney, he knew that was a lie.
Barney’s eyes were closed. His tongue dangled out between his teeth. He definitely wasn’t breathing. His heart wasn’t beating either. He looked peaceful. Too peaceful.
And there was this coldness to his body. This stiffness. Like he wasn’t a live being anymore. He was a stuffed animal or something like that. Like the light inside him was... off.
The life was gone from his bright eyes. Poor Bruno stood by his side, whining, whimpering.
Noah swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to accept the reality.
Barney was gone.
And not only that: his last reminder of the love of his life, Jasmine, was gone.
He reached down and lifted Barney up. Walked over to the door of his caravan. He tried not to think too much about what he was doing. Tried not to get too caught up in the emotions of it all. Tried to dull his reactions, somehow. Barney was old. This was life. Things lived, then they died. It was the same with everyone and everything.
But as he walked out of the caravan, Barney over his shoulder, the sun shimmering against the water up ahead, he felt a tear roll down his cheek.
He stopped by the side of the water. Laid Barney down. Then he went back, grabbed a shovel, and started digging as well as his one hand would allow.
He didn’t know how long he stood there and dug. But he kept going, right beside the little cross he’d made for Edward. Kept on going until he was absolutely certain it was deep enough. And then he went back again, grabbed a towel, and wrapped Barney in it.
He pushed him to the edge of the grave. Saw his eyes staring back up at him one more time. Remembered the day he’d first met Jasmine. Then the day he’d bumped into her again.
But more than that… the bond he’d mad
e with this dog.
The many times they’d fallen in and out of each other’s lives, only for Barney to disappear on him, once and for all.
The final disappearance.
“I hope I made you happy, lad,” Noah said. “I hope I made you happy.”
And then he pushed Barney’s body into the hole.
He spent the rest of the morning burying Barney. Wiped away the tears and the sweat from his face. As much as he tried to focus on the raw sensations of the moment, his mind kept drifting to the days they’d spent on the road together. The years they’d spent in this caravan, running off into the woods, in search of food. A loyal dog. Friendly and welcoming right to the end.
At least he went in his sleep. At least he went comfortably.
Noah just wished he’d been there to hold him and stroke him as he breathed his final breath.
He finished digging the hole, burying Barney. Bruno sat on his paws by the side of the grave, big sad eyes staring at the soil, tail totally still.
“It’s gonna be tough,” Noah said. “But we’ll make it through. We’ll get by. We always do. Come on. Let’s go find a gravestone for the lad.”
He went to walk off towards the woods. He knew where the perimeter markers were. He didn’t want to push his luck or take his chances too much, especially not with the warning of needing to move away from this place in a couple of days.
He’d find a stone around here somewhere. As much as he wanted to go off into the woods, to disappear into the nothingness, to clear his mind… he knew he didn’t have that freedom now. Perhaps less so than ever.
He took a few steps into the woodlands when he heard something over to the left.
Twigs cracking.
Footsteps.
He lifted his shovel. He should’ve grabbed a better weapon before coming out here. He kept a pistol under his pillow. Didn’t have many bullets, but handy to save for any special, necessary occasions.
He stared into the forest. Watched the leaves of the trees shake in the breeze. Swore he saw movement amidst them.
But he didn’t hear anything else.
He took a few deep breaths. Probably just imagining things. Probably just hearing things. Probably just…