Surviving The Virus | Book 7 | Reinfection

by Casey, Ryan

  She went to lower the handle when Noah heard something.

  A rap on the door.

  Three bangs.

  And then a voice.

  “Anyone in there? If there is… you might wanna open up, buddy. Before I knock this goddamned door down.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Anyone in there? Come on. Don’t fuck around. I’ve seen your prints out here. Just wanna talk, that’s all.”

  Noah heard the voice behind the caravan door, and he froze. The rain pelted down heavier on the steel roof. The wind creaked against the van’s foundations. His heart raced. Bruno tilted his head, growled in the least intimidating way possible.

  Iqrah stood by the door, ready to walk away. Ready to leave.

  And Noah felt torn.

  On the one hand, he wanted to open the door and let this be the end of this whole matter. He’d helped Iqrah out of a sticky situation. This was her journey to take from here. It wasn’t his problem to get involved in. He’d got too involved as it was. Risked everything. And for what? A girl he didn’t know. A girl who probably should be locked down in a lab right now.

  And yet there was that other voice in his head.

  The one telling him to do the right thing.

  He stared into Iqrah’s eyes.

  Sensed the tension in the air.

  “Right,” the voice shouted. “I’m gonna come on in there, whether you like it or not.”

  “Wait,” Noah said. “Let me get some pants on, at least. Sure you don’t want to see my dick right now. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  He nodded at Iqrah, pointed back to the bed. Then he walked across the caravan, over to where she’d been stood. Stopped at the door.

  “I’ve heard the old ‘getting my pants on’ routine far too many times already, buddy. I think I’ll take my chances with your dick. If you don’t open this door in the next five seconds, I’m gonna blast it down.”

  Noah held the door handle. Watched Iqrah climb onto the bed. Then he pointed up, towards the roof of the caravan, towards the opening hatch leading on top of it.

  “Up there?” she whispered.

  “Nowhere else,” Noah said.

  “Three seconds, pal. Three seconds and I’m in there.”

  “Quick!” Noah said.

  He turned around to the door. Heard Iqrah scrambling around with the hatch. He didn’t even have the time to check her progress. Not anymore.

  “Two seconds and I—”

  He held his breath and opened the door.

  He didn’t recognise the man standing there in the rain. Curly dark hair. Green eyes. The usual black mask on his face. Rifle pointed at Noah.

  But a smile to his eyes.

  “Hey, pal. Sorry about the hoo-hah. Mind if I step inside? It’s torrential out here. No idea where this came from.”

  Noah gritted his teeth. He didn’t even want to look right in case Iqrah was still there. And because he knew looking right would just draw attention that way. “If you have to.”

  “I do have to,” he said. “Now why don’t you show some hospitality and let me in, hmm?”

  Noah wanted to hold still. He wanted to stand his ground.

  But then he stepped back. Nodded for the man to come in.

  As he did, he saw the bed was vacant. Iqrah was hiding.

  But the hatch was still open.

  Rain splattered down onto the bed.

  He was going to see it. He was going to look over there and see it, and their game would be up.

  Fuck.

  The man stepped inside. “Jeez. Nice little place you’ve got here. Cramped, but serves a purpose, I bet?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Sorry. Excuse my manners. I’m Elijah. I would shake your hand, but I’m awful paranoid about germs and such.”

  “It’s fine. Really. I’m... I’m Noah.”

  “Noah. Nice name. Could do with an ark about now if you’re in the business still, hmm?”

  Noah smiled. Fucking prick. “Never heard that one before.”

  Elijah shook his head, smiled. “Say, what’s the pooch here called?”

  “Bruno. He doesn’t take too nicely to strangers.”

  “Looks like he takes after his pop for that. Anyway. I won’t keep you too long. Just a question or two for you. Something happened out in the woods today. Two things, actually. First, a girl we’re really keen on tracing. Iqrah, she’s called. Iqrah Shah. Wondered if you’d seen any sign of her? She’s mega important. And between you and me… if we manage to trace her, there could be something in it for the both of us.”

  Something in it for both of us.

  Noah looked over at that hatch. No sounds on the roof. She had to stay still. Mega still.

  But part of him still just wanted to be honest and tell the truth.

  “A girl?” Noah asked.

  “Yeah. Asian kid. Skinny. Long, dark hair. Might have a few bruises, shit like that.”

  “Can’t say I’ve seen any kids around here for a long time.”

  Elijah shook his head. “Well, jeez. That’s just too bad.”

  He turned to the door. For a moment, Noah thought he might actually be leaving.

  But then he stopped.

  “Oh, one other thing. We found a guard out there. Looked like he’d taken a bullet to the head. Know anything about that?”

  Noah tensed up. He shook his head. “A guard?”

  “Yeah. Looks like he’s been shot. Seems awful coincidental, with this girl knocking about and all that. You hear anything?”

  Noah shook his head. “Sorry. Can’t help you.”

  Elijah nodded. “Sure. That’s fine. I believe you. Only… well. Your caravan’s awful close. Can’t see how you wouldn’t hear gunfire out there. Especially with the hatch open over there.”

  Noah looked around. Heart picking up. “Honestly, I didn’t notice. I tend to keep that open. Keeps the air circulating.”

  “Right. Sounds legit.”

  He went to step outside again.

  Stopped.

  “So why wasn’t it open when I was walking down here?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Don’t fuck with me, Noah.”

  Elijah turned back to Noah and lifted his rifle.

  “I saw the prints leading over this way. Two sets of prints. One bigger than the other, about your size. Then just the big’uns. Leading right through the mud, right over here, and… well, jeez. Look at that. Two sets of prints all over your carpet here.”

  Noah looked at the floor and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “I—”

  Elijah held the rifle to Noah’s chest. “You’d better start answering some serious questions, Noah. That hatch. You show me what’s outside that hatch right this second. Or I put a bullet through your mother-fucking skull.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Show me outside that hatch now, buddy. I’m not fucking around anymore. If you want to keep your head on your shoulders, you’d better do as you’re goddamned told and stop lying right now.”

  Noah stared down the barrel of Elijah’s rifle. Outside, the wind and rain powered against the caravan. Rain poured in through the hatch, covering the bed. Outside, he swore he heard movement on the roof of the caravan. He hoped Iqrah had made a break for it. That she’d fled.

  But on the other hand… if she’d done a runner, then they were going to think he’d helped her escape.

  In the most perverse way of all, he kind of needed Iqrah to be here right now, one way or another.

  Bruno yapped by Noah’s side. And for a second, he swore he saw Elijah glare at him. Thought he saw a glimmer of evil satisfaction in his eyes.

  Almost like a threat.

  “Are you going to step out of my way?” Elijah barked. “Or am I gonna have to shoot you out the way?”

  “Look,” Noah said, caught in the moment, unsure what the best thing to say right now was—to feign innocence, or to be straight. “The girl. I saw her. Someone was
hunting her down out there and—”

  “I don’t want to listen to your bullshit. Get out of my way.”

  “I had to help her. I didn’t know there was anything different about her.”

  “So you figured you’d help her kill one of our people?”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You’re in the shit, Noah. Deep, deep shit, my friend. I hope you realise that.”

  Noah lowered his head and sighed. There was no point standing his ground like this anymore. No point fighting. He had himself to think about. And he had Bruno to protect.

  Against all his best judgements, he did the only thing he could—for himself, for Bruno, for a shot at any kind of future.

  “She’s on the roof,” he muttered.

  Elijah lowered his rifle. “Thought as much.”

  He pushed past Noah. Walked over to the rain-soaked bed.

  And then he looked around, right back at Noah.

  “Don’t you dare try anything, buddy. You’re in the shit here. Deep, deep shit. I’ll deal with you later.”

  Noah watched Elijah turn around. He saw him lift his rifle through that hatch, slowly. All the while, his heart raced. His guilt grew. He knew he shouldn’t just stand here. He knew he needed to man the fuck up and help.

  But Iqrah wasn’t his responsibility.

  This wasn’t his battle.

  It wasn’t his fight.

  “You okay up there, kiddo?” Elijah called. “I’ve come to help you. You don’t have to worry about a thing. Not anymore. Not now I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

  Noah gritted his teeth. He looked out the hole in the blind covering the caravan window. He thought about going out there. Making a runner for it. Calling for Iqrah to join him. They could still leave this place. They still had a chance—

  “Hey,” Elijah barked. “Eyes on me. Don’t go getting any ideas, bud. None at all. Ain’t gonna end happy for you if you do.”

  Noah held his hands tight by his side. Bruno kept on barking, howling away. It seemed so long ago that he’d woken up this morning and found Barney dead. A whole lifetime ago.

  And he still couldn’t call how this day was going to progress. Or how it was going to end.

  “Come on, kiddo,” Elijah said, poking the top of his head out of the hatch. “You can trust me. No need to be scared. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

  Those rival forces tugging at Noah.

  One telling him to stand his ground.

  The other telling him to run.

  He went to open his mouth. To call out, he wasn’t sure who.

  That’s when he remembered.

  The rifle.

  The one the guard he’d shot had. The one he’d taken from his fallen body.

  By the foot of the bed.

  He went to take a step to grab it when he noticed something.

  When it all happened so fast.

  First, he noticed the rifle wasn’t there anymore.

  He frowned. Wondered where it’d gone.

  And then he heard the blast.

  And then another.

  Elijah’s body going limp.

  Blood and brains falling down from the hatch, covering Noah’s bed.

  Noah stood there and stared at Elijah’s body. His exploded head. His twitching arms. His pale hands holding loosely onto that rifle.

  And then he saw a figure poke her head down the hatch.

  Hair drenched in rain.

  Rifle in her hands.

  “Iqrah?” he said.

  She looked at him.

  Narrowed her eyes.

  “Looks like I just saved your life again,” she said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Noah stared at Elijah’s twitching dead body lying across his waterlogged, blood-soaked bed, and he didn’t know what to think.

  It was torrential outside. Thick clouds. Rain powering down from above. It might only be late morning, but it felt like evening. The kind of day you wanted to just stay locked away inside, away from the outside world, away from everything.

  But today wasn’t going to be one of those days.

  Iqrah stood by his side. She still had the rifle from the fallen guard in hand. Opposite them, Elijah lay on the bed. His head was blasted to pieces. One of his eyes stared back up, loosely dangling from what remained of his skull. Rain continued to fall in through the hatch, covering the place in water.

  There was a smell to the air, too. A bitterness that always accompanied death. A sickly taste to Noah’s throat. He’d lived quite happily on the outskirts of society for some time now. No trouble. No worries. No panic. Just kept his head down and gone about his business without anyone to worry about.

  But now Iqrah had forced her way into his life, and suddenly he felt that discomfort that came with the fear of responsibility rising once again.

  He shouldn’t have gone after her when he’d heard that scream.

  He should’ve reported seeing her right away, and he wouldn’t have had to worry about any of this.

  But now he didn’t have much choice.

  A dead guard outside.

  A dead guard in his goddamned caravan.

  He didn’t really have the luxury of choice right now.

  “What’re we going to do, then?” Iqrah asked.

  Noah looked around at her. She might be small and looked like she’d been through some shit, but she sure as hell had some confidence about her. He wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. “What are we going to do?”

  “Well you can’t stay here.”

  “I can’t stay here, can I? In my goddamned home?”

  “I mean, you could try. But there’s a dead man on your bed. And they’re after me. So I don’t think it’ll take them too long before they come looking here.”

  “Are you blackmailing me, kid? Got some nerve.”

  She looked around at him. Glared. “I saved your life. Twice. Even though you were going to sell me out to those people. Twice.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I know what I heard. And what I saw. But we’re in this together now. Whether you like it or not. And whether you want to help me or not. We’re in this together.”

  Noah heard those words, and as much as he wanted to resist them, as much as he wanted to fight them, he knew Iqrah was right.

  They were in this together. Even if he didn’t stick around. Even if he didn’t help her reach her family in Blackpool. He couldn’t stay here. He’d been pushed through the doorway of no return, and there was no way of coming back from this.

  He just had to decide how he was going to leave.

  He just had to face up to the fact that no matter how he left, he was going to have to venture beyond the perimeter and into No Man’s Land.

  “My family,” Iqrah said. “I just… I just need you to get me on the road to Blackpool. To help me a bit. I can run. I’m good at running. Just help me a little bit, and then you can do what you want.”

  Noah swallowed a lump in his throat.

  “Or… you could come with me. The place my parents are. It’s a nice place. At least, it was.”

  “How do you know it’s still even there?”

  “It has to be.”

  “But—”

  “It has to be, okay?”

  Noah looked into this kid’s eyes, and he nodded. And it dawned on him he knew staggeringly little about her. He’d watched her slaughter those infected with nothing more than her mind, a far rawer use of power than even he’d been able to, all that time ago.

  She was an escapee. She was valuable to the Society. She could help with the fight against the virus.

  But she was a child. A child who wanted to find her parents.

  What mattered more?

  “They’ve tested on me for a long time now,” Iqrah said, like she could read Noah’s mind. “They’ve tried so many different things. And I’m not the only one. There were others like me. Mostly kids. An
d they want to believe it’ll work. They want to believe they’ll find a cure or find a way to use what I have to help them, or something like that. But in the end, it’ll be the same for me as it was for all the other kids. The ones younger than me. I’m sure of it.”

  “How was it for all the other kids?”

  “They ended up dead.”

  Noah tasted a bitterness to his lips. The rain fell heavier. The floor of the caravan was soaked now, something Bruno wasn’t happy about.

  “Help me find my parents,” Iqrah said. “Help me find my community. And we can start again. Both of us.”

  Noah looked around at the dark, dingy caravan. At the place he’d called home for so long.

  He was happy here.

  He was safe here.

  But then… was he?

  Was it really happiness he felt here?

  Or was it just contentedness?

  Contentedness that he didn’t have to connect with anyone?

  That he didn’t have to bond with anyone?

  That he could just do his own thing and go his own way?

  He looked at the body. At the dead flies lying by the dirty sink. At the cobwebs in the corner, always tickling his face whenever he walked around this place. At the two metal dog bowls on the floor, a reminder of Barney.

  And then he looked at Iqrah.

  She was tough. Cold. Wouldn’t anyone be if they’d been through what she’d been through?

  But at the same time, there was something about her.

  He took a deep breath, and he nodded.

  Iqrah frowned. “What?”

  “I’ll help you get on the road to Blackpool,” he said. “I’ll help you find your family.”

  A smile crossed Iqrah’s face. “Thank you. So, so much.”

  He wanted to smile back at her. To nod.

  But in the end, he felt that resistance in himself rising again, and he stood up and grabbed the rifle from Elijah.

  “But you listen to me. You stick with my plans. You don’t talk unless you are spoken to. And you…”

  He saw something, then.

  Something on Elijah’s waist.

  Something beside his crackling walkie-talkie.

  Something his limp left hand clutched on to.