Blood Type Infected (Book 5): The Departed

by Marchon, Matthew

  “If you hurt her,” Neil whispers coldly, “I’ll kill you.”

  “No, you won’t,” I say with a pat on his arm. “If I hurt her it means I’m already dead.”

  “And I went right beside him.” Her arm over my shoulder instantly reminds me why he’s so jealous of what we have. “Nolecia to the end.”

  “You guys are fucking bomb,” Sami swoons. “Oops, uh oh, don’t tell my mom I used the F word. God I love our Peepee Club!”

  “Guys,” Norwood calls down from his perch atop the tree. “Guys! There’s a bridge! Oops, my bad,” he adds, forgetting he could talk into the walkie, his voice crackling away beside us. “Downstream just a little ways, there’s a bridge. If we go now, like right now, we can get across! The river’s about to wash it away. We gotta go now! Hurry, run!”

  CHAPTER 21

  Sami breaks into a sprint before Norwood’s done talking, determined to make it to that airstrip before the chopper does. I don’t know if it’s age or experience that makes us so jaded, but whatever it is, it’s not affecting her. Children believe, we believed once too, until the world stole that belief from us.

  The truth is, they’ll be long gone… by the time… we get…

  Wait. They’ll be gone, they’ll take off in the fleet of fighter jets or whatever’s there waiting for us, they’ll be long gone. But it’s a military airstrip, how many other planes will be sitting there, left behind?

  “Max,” I shout, stopping in my tracks, leaving Felecia to race after Sami, “can you fly a plane?”

  “A plane, I mean, yeah, kind of,” she says over her shoulder, grabbing the duffel bag from the trailer. “About as well as I can fly a chopper. Which is pretty much not at all.”

  “But if you had to?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “The airstrip, there’s gotta be other planes there, right? They’ll take one to New York, with everyone on it.”

  “Holy shit, no no no, Noah, you’re right,” she screams before putting the walkie to her mouth. “Dustin, get down from there! Hurry, there’ll be other wings at that airfield. I repeat, they’re only taking one plane. We can still make it to New York before the last flights leave the country!”

  “On my way,” he shouts from the treetop, forgoing the walkie. “Just go, I’m coming!”

  I can’t stop my leg from shaking restlessly as I watch him scurry down the branches, illuminated by the flashlight in Maxwell’s hand. We can’t leave, not until he’s down, he won’t be able to see a thing, it’s too dark out here.

  “Go,” I urge, taking the light from her. “You got the duffel bag, it’ll slow you down. My legs are rested, I’m fast, trust me, I can make it. Go.”

  She looks back and forth between me and Norwood, crashing his way through the branches. Sami and Felecia have disappeared from sight and Marty’s about to round the corner, but Neil has yet to move.

  “Both of you go,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’ll take the light. I’ll wait for him. Look, he saved my life back there, I owe him this.”

  Maxwell nods, coming to some sort of conclusion in the internal struggle she’s got going on. Something tells me she’s been here before, waiting for someone, and she can’t wait anymore. I can see how badly she wants to stand right here until Norwood gets down from that tree, until she knows he’s going to be alright, but something inside her pulls her in the other direction.

  “It’s okay,” Neil says, taking the light. “I owe him my life, and you. I felt you grab for me Noah. Just go. I got this. You won, the better man won. Get across that bridge before it’s too late. Look after Felecia for me, okay? I know she’s better off with you.”

  With one final pat on his shoulder, I turn and run. I’m not willing to get separated from Felecia, not for anyone. Or any reason. I feel bad leaving them behind, but I do it without hesitation.

  Norwood’s not even down the tree. They’ll never make it, will they? Neil knows that, that’s why he’s willing to stay.

  You can’t make someone see hope. They see it, or they don’t. We spend our lives trying to help those who don’t want help. Trying to inspire those we feel could be more than what they are. Trying to shine our light on those going through the dark times we’ve already been through.

  But the fact of the matter is, when you’re going through it, you don’t care how many people tell you it’ll get better. All their words of encouragement, their promises for a brighter tomorrow, they fall on deaf ears. Because when you’re going through it, you don’t see it. It’s like telling a person with depression to just snap out of it. If you could, you would. You may as well be telling someone with cancer to just get rid of it.

  When it comes right down to it, my future and Neil’s aren’t the same. Whether we leave this country or not, I have Felecia. He doesn’t. He’s lost, searching for some kind of meaning, for a reason he can’t find. The hope I see, it doesn’t exist in his world. And I can’t convince him otherwise.

  I run like hell.

  My feet slam off the dirt road as I race through the clouds of dust left in Maxwell’s wake, sending pebbles flying behind me with every frenzied footfall. Half an hour ago, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to run again, my body was so drained it was shutting down on me, but here we are, moving so fast I feel like I could fly at any second.

  The darkness of the gravel corridor is lit up by a pale blue at the end of the tunnel. Now that I’m around the corner, I can see the river. The dull glow from the fallen sun lights up the landscape in muted grays as the silhouettes of trees dance around me. All I can see are outlines and shadows, but it’s enough to guide my way.

  Where the hell is this bridge? The road ends at the water. I don’t see a freakin’ bridge! Unless, aw shit, don’t tell me that’s it.

  The others are directly across the river, I can make out their figures in the twilight. One of them races down to the water’s edge. I know it’s Felecia without having to see her. The roar of the rapids are too loud but I can make out her hands beckoning me in her direction, shaking frantically as she doubles over, screaming at the top of her lungs.

  The bridge is underwater. The waves are crashing over it, splashing the flat surface. The only reason I can tell it’s there is because the waves pound off the frame in a straight line. And, is that…

  Railings. The bridge has railings. Square logs spanning the entire length of it. It can’t be more than the width of a truck, single lane, probably meant for work crews to cross, the lawnmower we abandoned up the road. The water’s splashing off them but they’re not submerged yet.

  A handful of floorboards burst from the water, crashing against the railing before being sucked downstream. The bridge is literally falling apart under the pressure of the rising river. How many boards have already been washed away? Is it even possible to walk across?

  I slow my pace, despite their frantic hand movements telling me to speed up. There’s no way I can make it across the bridge, it just lost another two boards, ripped right out of their support beams. I can’t tell where to step, and even if I could, even if all the floorboards were in place, the current is too strong. I’m watching bowling ball size rocks roll across the bridge like they’re tumbleweeds. I’ll be swept away before my foot touches down.

  The railing has to be about a foot wide. It’s like those forest road bridges we crossed on backcountry hunting trips, the ones that only see ATV and foot traffic. We used to hold our breath when crossing them, you know, like when you drive by a cemetery. Of course if they could hold the weight of an ATV, they could easily hold the weight of a person, but it was scary at the time.

  That ten year old version of me would be shitting his pants if he could see this.

  I leap from the shoulder of the road, landing on the narrow railing and sliding before slamming my other foot down in front of me. My boots offer just enough traction on the wet surface to keep me from skidding right off the edge.

  Another cluster of floorboards are torn from the
base, crashing against the railing and snapping in half before being washed away. Glad I picked this railing to run across. And it’s a good thing I didn’t pick the roadway itself or I’d be sailing downstream right now.

  My feet land in a straight line, one after another, like some kind of extreme field sobriety test, with waves lapping over my boots. The hundred meter dash on a tightrope.

  The bridge can’t be much longer than fifty feet, but from where I stand, it looks like it’s gotta be at least half a mile. And in another couple seconds, I won’t be able to see the railing anymore. It’ll be–

  What the hell is that?

  A body slams into the wooden beam a few steps ahead of me. He bursts from the clutches of the river like a kayak paddling over rapids, launched off the railing in a highspeed collision. He twists in the air, reaching for me before being swallowed by another wave. They’re getting washed downstream, probably still falling over the edge of the dam.

  He crashes into the railing across the bridge with so much force it takes his head off, snapping his neck back until there’s nothing left.

  My feet are moving before I’m even done skidding to a halt. The water has to be about five feet past the bridge now. This is Tyrone’s specialty, not mine. I run, I don’t jump. We all know what happens when my feet leave the safety of the ground.

  I can’t hear my heartbeat over the sound of the rushing water but I can feel its rapid rhythm pulsing through me like a techno track playing through subwoofers. One of the many reasons we never let Doug drive us anywhere. I swear it feels like my whole body is contracting with every rapid-fire beat.

  The railing is gone, I can’t see it at all anymore. The waves have overtaken it. Oh my god I’m gonna slip off the edge, I know it.

  I can’t do this, everything’s rushing around me. The force of the water’s pulling at my feet, it’s gonna wash me away. I’m so close. Another step or two, I can’t tell anymore. Where the hell does the railing end? When do I jump? All I see are whitecapped waves racing by me.

  There’s nothing else to do. I make the leap.

  CHAPTER 22

  My final footfall pushes me off the submerged railing.

  Nothing but air around me. I’ve been here before. Not here, but, here. One last leap of faith. It’s always the last, because every time, you tell yourself you won’t ever be in this position again. That things will get better. That you’ll learn not to put your life on the line. But sometimes it’s out of your control.

  That split second before you land takes a lifetime. Memories come flooding back, like your life flashing before your eyes. But it’s not my whole life. At least, not the life I’ve always considered mine. All I see are these last few days, like the seventeen years before were nothing but a dream.

  Faces fade. It all feels like a movie I watched while half asleep. There’s moments I remember vividly, but the time in between them is gone. I don’t know how, but my mind understands that’s not my life anymore. This is.

  It’s not that old life I’m jumping for, praying I land safely, it’s this life. With these people. I don’t want it to go back to what it was before, as crazy as that sounds, I want the tomorrow that we’re fighting for, whatever it may be.

  I hit the gravel road in a crash landing and roll, my feet barely splashing the water. Holy fucking shit, I made it! I made the jump!

  I tumble over small stones and pebbles before coming to a stop, face down in the dirt, with enough sweat pouring off me to turn the dust into mud. I can’t believe I made it. There was no way I could make that jump. It had to be over ten feet. How did I just do that? Wait, could it be? Am I… am I the new Tyrone? I am so putting his first place trophy on my mantle beneath the dinosaur skull.

  Felecia throws herself on top of me, covering my body with hers, planting kisses on the back of my neck between every breath. I’m not sure if it’s beads of sweat or tears but she’s definitely raining on me.

  “Caylee’s right,” she says directly into my ear, “I am so getting you a backpack on a leash. Noah Britton, do not ever do that to me again. From now on you hold my hand, at all times. I thought you were right behind me.”

  “I was,” I breathe into the dirt, “but I had to get Max. Leesh, there’ll be military jets at that airfield outside Yuma. Even if Buckley beats us there and everyone’s already gone, we can still reach New York before the last flights leave to England.”

  “Meaning, we still have a shot at leaving this zompire infested shithole country? Oh my god, okay, I forgive you. But just this once.”

  “Norwood, Neil, they didn’t make it across, did they?”

  I sit up, following her eyes to the far side of the river. They didn’t make it in time. I barely did, if you can call what I just did making it. What are we supposed to do? The river just keeps rising.

  I swear I can hear Norwood’s voice. It’s faint, but I know it’s him, on the walkie talkie in Maxwell’s hand. He’s got the other one, he had it in the tree. He and Neil are walking away from the river, up the utility road as it slowly gets swallowed by the current.

  Marty and Maxwell both pat me on the shoulder, proud, like the first time Neil shot a deer. His dad didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to, the way he cupped his son’s shoulder, it said more than words ever could. I now know how that felt for him. Why he continued doing it, despite the sadness he refused to admit he was feeling for taking the life of a living creature.

  “Noah, bro, that was one hell of a stunt,” Norwood shouts through the little receiver in Maxwell’s hand. “I swear, from here, it looked like you were walking on water, and that jump at the end, oh my god dude! I don’t know if you can see it, but we’re both bowing to you right now. Again. That makes twice in one hour.”

  Marty shakes his head, laughing, patting me on the back while taking the radio from Maxwell. “Kid, how are you able to speak right now, with Noah’s dick so far down your throat?”

  “Go to hell, old man,” Norwood laughs, waving his middle finger at him from across the river, even if we can’t make it out from here. “Guys,” he says, getting a little more serious, “I don’t think we’re gonna make it across. You’re gonna have to go on without us.”

  “You may be a couple of little pricks,” Marty groans, “but we ain’t leavin’ ya here.”

  “You have to. Max, if you think there’s even a chance you can fly that thing, you gotta go. We’ll be alright. We’ll wait for the water to recede, then make it across.”

  “What then?” Maxwell whimpers, before realizing she doesn’t have the walkie. “What then?” she repeats, taking it from Marty’s outstretched hand. “There’s no way you’ll be able to catch up to us.”

  “Yeah, we know. We’re gonna head to Fort Henderson. Set up base there. Look, guys, that world you’re headed to, it’s not for me. You may not have noticed,” he laughs, “but I’ve never exactly fit in with society. I woulda fought my ass off to get us there, but it was for all of you, not me. I know I haven’t been with you for long, shit, has it really only been two days? But dammit, I love you guys. We’re fucking family, all of us, that goes for you too Squirt. I’m gonna need you to look after Nolecia because if you can’t tell, they have a tendency to get themselves into some shit.”

  “Sami, cover your ears,” I say, taking the walkie from Maxwell. “Dustin, it’s Noah. Hey man, look, there’s a good possibility we don’t make it out of this country. We’re kinda behind schedule as it is, and seeing as how we gotta make it down the entire coast...”

  “Say no more. We’ll set up rooms for you at the base. Don’t worry, we’ll get you a California King, so that way when you find Caylee, you three will have a nice big comfy bed to share. Find her, you hear me? That crazy chick is way too cool to lose. We need her on our team. Hold on, Neil wants to talk.”

  “Hey, I uh, I just, I owe all of you an apology. Probably more than one, but, man, have you ever felt guilty for having something you don’t deserve? If I were to make it out of here, it’d be
like winning a trophy, knowing you had to cheat to get it. I didn’t get us out of this mess, I only pulled us deeper in, but I would have taken credit for it, because I’m a Buckley, and that’s what we do. And I couldn’t do that to you.”

  “Neil,” I say sternly, pulling Felecia into my side, “we forgive you.”

  “I know you do. I know,” he sighs. “You coulda left me on that island. And you probably should have. Thank you, for letting me be your friend. I’m talking to all of you, even you Marty. I didn’t earn your friendship, but you gave it to me anyway, and I’ll never forget that. You guys changed me. You really did. I realize I got a long way to go, but I’m gonna become someone you can all be proud to call your friend.”

  “No, we’re not friends,” I say with a shake of my head. “Not anymore. We’re family now.”

  “If you catch up to them, tell Scotty I love him, and if he hasn’t killed our dad already, what the hell’s he waiting for? Look after him for me. And I know it goes without saying, but, Noah, take care of Felecia. I’m sorry, Leesh, for thinking it was me you needed in your life, when it was really me who needed you in mine. Noah was always the better man, I just wanted to believe I was. Sorry for ever getting in the way of that.”

  “Past lives,” Felecia says from over my shoulder as I hold the button down for her. “Those were people we used to be, a long time ago. They’re not us anymore. You’re gonna make some lucky boy really proud to call you his boyfriend.”

  “Oh fuck you,” he laughs. “Dustin’s totally gonna make me his prison bitch until we find women to repopulate the world with, isn’t he?”

  “You are so gonna be his breeding mount,” she says with a grin, and you just know Norwood is naying at him right now.

  “Hey, Little Lady,” Marty snorts, taking the walkie from me, “just wanted to let you know you graduated. You ain’t no longer a little lady in my eyes, you’re a bad bitch now.”