Surviving The Virus | Book 7 | Reinfection

by Casey, Ryan

  “Stay with me,” Noah said. “Stay…”

  He stopped when he heard the shuffling up ahead.

  He looked around to the right, where he’d heard the movement, the noise.

  An abandoned park bench, covered in moss.

  A pond, static, stagnant.

  The sound of crickets.

  The smell of rot.

  He shook his head and kept on walking. He didn’t have any time to dick around here. His main focus was getting Iqrah some medical attention. Only then could he decide what he was going to do next. What the next step was going to be.

  He took another step forward when he saw an infected right up ahead.

  It looked… freshly infected, weirdly. Pale. Not one of the dead ones. A woman. Dark, curly hair. Bright green eyes.

  “My girl,” she said. “Give me my girl!”

  Noah lifted the rifle to pull the trigger and noticed something.

  The rifle was out of ammo.

  He lowered it. Took a few steps back. “Shit.”

  He was going to have to fight her off.

  Swing the rifle at her.

  Beat the shit out of her, as difficult a task as that always was, especially with the ones who weren’t dead.

  He lifted the rifle, Iqrah still dangling awkwardly on his shoulder, when he saw something else.

  The woman stopped.

  Two other figures appeared through the trees.

  Two men, this time.

  Similar states of infection. Not dead. Blood streaming from their eyes, down their face.

  Staring at Noah.

  At Iqrah.

  At Bruno.

  Noah felt his stomach sink. He backed away, as more of those infected appeared. “Can you not just give it a rest for one damned day?”

  The infected—eight of them—all stood there. All stared.

  And Noah found himself knowing he had to tap into that strength within.

  He had to face up to it, instead of resisting it.

  He took a deep breath, felt that urgency, felt that desperation, felt that pain…

  And then he saw something.

  The infected.

  The woman at the front.

  She dropped to her knees.

  Noah sighed. Heart still racing. It didn’t feel like he’d tapped into that inner strength. But maybe it was working differently these days. Or maybe Iqrah had done this. Maybe…

  Then he noticed something else.

  The other seven infected.

  Three of them backed away, disappeared screaming into the woods.

  Four of them fell down, shaking.

  Twitching.

  Writhing.

  Blood splattering everywhere—

  And then their heads burst, like so many before them.

  But this woman.

  She stayed sat there.

  Stayed put.

  Noah saw her kneeling there. Neck back. Peering up at the sky. Eyes rolled right into her skull.

  Blood dripping down her cheeks.

  And then something else.

  Tears.

  He watched this woman twitch, shake.

  And then he saw saliva drool down her face.

  Heard her gibberish words turning more sensical.

  “Please. Free me from this. Please. Help me. I don’t want to do this. I’m scared. I’m afraid. I need help. Take it out of me! Take it out of me! Take it…”

  And then her head bolted forward.

  She looked at Noah.

  Not with dead eyes.

  Not with vacant eyes.

  Not with infected eyes.

  But with the eyes of somebody… ordinary.

  “What’s happening?” she said. “Where… where am I? Who are you? What the hell’s going on?”

  Noah stood there and stared at this woman—a woman who was infected just moments ago—and the sound of the approaching footsteps and guards didn’t even shake him from his focus.

  He didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

  But when he looked down at Iqrah, blood trickling from her eyes and nostrils, he started to understand just how important this girl was.

  And just why they were so desperate to find her again.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Shelley Carter looked at the gaping hole in the perimeter fence, and for the first time, she felt a twinge of fear.

  It was late. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the deep woodlands. It never used to be a woodland here. Used to be a small village, once upon a time. But it didn’t take long for the village to get flattened and for nature to tighten its grip and take control.

  She took in a deep breath of the fresh forest air. Stared at the torchlights shining at that hole in the fence. Looked at the decapitated bodies of the infected lying limp on the ground. The images of the dead bodies of her colleagues lying there too, the blood on their faces clearly pointing to infection.

  She tasted a bitterness in her mouth. That girl. Iqrah. The one they were hunting. The one this Noah fella had taken under his wing.

  He didn’t know what kind of power he was messing with.

  Even if he thought he knew what he was interfering with… he didn’t. He couldn’t.

  Because if he knew the full truth, there was no way he’d be trying to hide her from Shelley, from the Society, from the scientists at the lab.

  Iqrah was special.

  A real fucking special kind of special, too. Not like the rare cases of infection resistant. Not even like those select few who had some sort of control over the infected. Ways of resisting them. Holding them back. Controlling them. Even turning normal people infected somehow, through sheer focus and will.

  No, Iqrah was even more special than that. Because Iqrah might just be the answer to all their problems.

  Iqrah might just be the answer to everything.

  The solution to everything.

  And just knowing that information in itself was dangerous.

  This kid was way, way more powerful than anyone could ever realise.

  Shelley saw the trio of guards walking back through the torn fence into No Man’s Land. Shoulders slumped. Faces forlorn.

  One of them walked up to her. A tall guy. Greying prematurely. Crystal blue eyes. She couldn’t see his mouth for his black mask, but she knew he was grimacing right now.

  “Well?” she asked, knowing full well what the answer was going to be.

  He sighed. “We searched far and wide, we really did. But we just can’t find a trace of ’em.”

  “The girl has a tracker in her arm.”

  “The signal’s getting fuzzy. You know how that shit works. It wears off eventually.”

  Shelley nodded. Sighed. She’d suspected as much. So the girl really was out there on route to safety. And she was dangerous. Dangerous because even she didn’t understand the extent of her abilities. Dangerous because without control, she could be a threat to their entire recovery process.

  And dangerous because without her, what hope did humanity ever have of recovering?

  “So you’ve just given up?” Shelley asked.

  The man frowned. “I—I—”

  “Think about it, buddy. What’s your name?”

  “Simon.”

  “Simon. Think about it, Simon. Girl escapes a scary lab she’s been locked away in for God-knows-how-long. She finds herself out in a world she barely recognises. What’s the first thing she does?”

  Simon squinted like he was really trying to figure this out. “I… I, um—”

  “She runs. She runs as fast as she goddamned can, right?”

  Simon nodded. “I mean, I guess.”

  “I guess too. So I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re gonna take a nice little look for this girl’s footprints. And we’re gonna stay on track. And we’re gonna be patient. Because that’s what we’ve got on her. Patience. We’re gonna wait for that tracker to show us exactly where she is. And when it does… we’re gonna make sure we pay our l
ittle princess a visit. And when we find her, we’re going to kill her friend and take her back. Only this time… we’re going to make damned sure she never does any running away again. You know how we do that, Simon?”

  Simon frowned. “Huh?”

  Shelley lifted her pistol and fired a bullet into Simon’s left kneecap.

  Simon yelped. Jolted. Fell to the ground. “What the—”

  Shelley walked over to him. Lifted her pistol. Pointed it at his right kneecap. “We’re going to make sure she never, ever runs again. You want to know how that feels?”

  “Please. I didn’t mean—Please!”

  Shelley pulled the trigger.

  Shot Simon in his right kneecap.

  He let out a scream. Clutched his bleeding legs.

  All around, the rest of the Society guards watched.

  “Now,” Shelley said, sticking her pistol into her waistband. “The night is young. How about we get moving, folks?”

  She walked over towards that hole in the No Man’s Land fence.

  Heard the footsteps of the guards following behind her.

  “What about Simon?” one of them said.

  Shelley looked around. Saw Simon writhing around helplessly on the ground.

  “Leave him for the infected,” Shelley said. “It’s about time we stopped being so forgiving to the incompetent.”

  She took a deep breath as Simon screamed into the night.

  Looked ahead, through the trees, over into the darkness.

  She was going to find Iqrah.

  She was going to take this girl back to the labs, where she belonged.

  Because Iqrah wasn’t just infection-resistant.

  Iqrah couldn’t just kill the infected with her mind.

  And Iqrah couldn’t just infect others, on-demand.

  Iqrah could cure the infected.

  Iqrah was the vaccine.

  Iqrah was the cure.

  Iqrah was the future.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Noah walked into the darkness with Iqrah over his shoulder, Bruno by his side, and this new woman—Tracey—closely flanking him.

  But nothing seemed real. Everything just felt... different.

  Especially after what’d just happened with Iqrah.

  And with this new woman, Tracey.

  Tracey was a short, slim woman. Dark skin. Long curly black hair. She hadn’t said a lot. Mostly, she was in a daze. A daze of disbelief about what’d happened herself. Like she couldn’t believe it either. Like she couldn’t accept it.

  Noah felt the same. And it left him in a conflicted state. A very conflicted state.

  Because he’d seen a new side to Iqrah.

  A new ability to Iqrah.

  Iqrah couldn’t just attack the infected.

  She couldn’t just infect normal people—things Noah had proven capable of in the past himself, as much as he wasn’t sure how it worked entirely.

  Iqrah could cure the infected, too.

  And that was a game-changer.

  That made things... different.

  It changed everything.

  “We need to get the girl somewhere safe,” Noah said, racing through the woods. Iqrah was sleeping. The bleeding wasn’t as bad on her neck, thank God. But it still needed seeing to. Still needed treating. He couldn’t leave her like this. The wound could get nasty. She’d lost a fair bit of blood, maybe more than he thought. She could get some kind of infection, too.

  Besides. She was tired. Pale. Looked like she might not regain consciousness for quite some time.

  “The place I came from,” Tracey said, her voice shaky and high. “Before... before whatever happened. We were a small community.”

  “Society?”

  “What?”

  “Were they Society?” Noah asked.

  Tracey shook her head. “No. We’re just a small camp. Avoided that Society lot for a long time now. Life’s unpredictable out here, but it’s more... free. We’ve lost people. We’ve had our ups and downs. But we’re finding our way. And that’s far better than following their rules. Especially when their rules change so fast.”

  She looked around at Noah. Then he realised it wasn’t him she was looking at. It was Iqrah. Wide-eyed. A look of amazement across her face.

  “The girl,” she said. “She...”

  “I don’t know a lot more about her than you do,” she said. “I was just going about my business, and she turns up at my place running for her life. Said she was locked away in some labs or other. That they’d been testing on her for the last year or something. She wanted to find her family over Blackpool way. So I guess that’s where we’re heading. Once we’ve got her stitched up and rested, anyway.”

  “My people,” Tracey said, not turning her eyes from Iqrah as they waded through the long grass, into the darkness. “I... I don’t think they’re far from here. If we can get there, we have some good people. Medical people. People who can help.”

  She looked up at Noah, and he realised he was the one staring now.

  “What’re you thinking?” she asked.

  Noah opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Go on. Might as well ask me. Might make this walk go a little quicker.”

  Noah nodded. “When you were... well. Infected. What did it... feel like?”

  He had Jasmine in mind.

  Imagined her final moments.

  Always thought of her conscious. Realising what Noah was doing. Realising exactly what he was capable of and wanting him to resist, all that time.

  “At first... I felt myself. But then I lost more of myself until I... Well. I guess I lost all sense of everything. It felt like blackness. But a nice kind of blackness. A... comfortable void. Where nothing really mattered.”

  Noah wasn’t expecting that. But it made him feel a little better, more reassured.

  “This girl,” Tracey said. “You really think it’s a good idea taking her to her parents when she’s so... well. Powerful? Useful?”

  Noah heard those words, and they reflected exactly what he’d been thinking himself, all along.

  Iqrah. He could understand her wanting to run away. To find her parents. Especially when others like her could control some elements of the virus; people like him.

  But curing the infected. Reversing the virus.

  He hadn’t ever seen a thing like that before.

  And it made him question whether he was even doing the right thing at all by taking her away like this.

  He looked down at her pale, bloodied face. Listened to her soft breathing. Shivered, as a cool breeze covered him.

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned,” Noah said. “It’s that society is fucked whether they find some kind of miracle cure or not. There’s no reversing the virus that humanity has become. There’s no reversing the Society. All it’ll do is make them more powerful. It’ll lead to more conflicts. More wars. No. The best thing we can do with Iqrah is get her far, far away from their dirty hands, and just hope to God this virus dies out in its own way, someday.”

  He looked up at Tracey. Saw a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes.

  “I didn’t mean I’d rather she didn’t bring people back. People like you. I just—”

  “It’s okay. I get it. Really. My time came. Luck struck, and all that. But now, here I am. And you know what? I’m going to make the most of that. I’m going to make sure I help in any way I can. I’m—”

  Rustling, right up ahead.

  Movement.

  Noah froze.

  So too did Tracey.

  Bruno growled.

  He looked ahead at the trees. His heart started racing.

  Someone was here.

  They had to lay low.

  They had to hide.

  They had to...

  A man stepped out.

  Short. Thin hair. Beady eyes reflecting in the moonlight. Thin, suspicious smile across his face.

  “Tracey?” he said. “I... I thought you
were—”

  Tracey stepped forward. Hugged this guy. “It’s a long story, Bert. And I’ve got plenty of time to share it.”

  She looked around at Noah. Smiled at him.

  “Noah,” she said. “Bert. Bert, Noah. And this here is Iqrah. She’s a very special girl. And we’ve got a lot to tell you about her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Noah sat around the campfire and couldn’t stop staring at the tent where Iqrah was recovering.

  Tracey’s camp was very much that—a camp. Large tents everywhere. A good number of people nestled in this hidden refuge in the middle of the woods. He’d seen about fifteen so far, but apparently there were thirty or so. There wasn’t a real “leader”—they all had their skills and advantages—but the de facto leader was this Bert guy. He seemed nice. Friendly enough.

  But there was something about him that gave Noah the creeps.

  The way he kept looking over at Noah with these piercing eyes, this uncertain smirk.

  Like he felt threatened by him, somehow.

  “Iqrah will be fine,” Tracey said.

  “Course she will,” Bert chipped in, tucking into a chunk of squirrel meat, which Bruno showed a particular interest in. “Jenny’s one of the best medics in No Man’s Land.”

  “Probably the only professional medic in No Man’s Land at this stage,” Tracey said.

  “Which is why it’s a good job she’s training the others, right?”

  Tracey nodded. Noah sensed a little tension between her and Bert. Like they respected one another but didn’t totally like one another. Like they differed in some ways. Ways which Noah suspected he’d differ to Bert, too.

  “How did you people wind up here anyway?” Noah asked.

  “Wind up here?” Bert said. “Hell, we were never keen on the Society way of doing things. Some of us escaped. Others have been out here since the beginning. They’re dictators, you know? The longer you spend out here, the more you realise it. They give you this illusion that it’s all nasty and dangerous out here, and that you need their shoulders to lean on. But the more time you spend out here, the more you truly realise it’s not as bad as they say it is. Sure, there’s infected out here. But not loads, not like they claim. It’s manageable. Certainly no worse than it was in the early days, anyhow. And we all survived those, right?”