by Ryan Casey
Turning his torch on.
Seeing she was gone.
“She was here,” Noah said. “I left her here.”
Eddie didn’t say anything. Neither did Kelly. They both just stood there beside him. Barney sniffing at the ground, whining. Like he knew Jasmine had been here at some point, too. Like he knew she was close.
And like he knew something was wrong.
A hand on Noah’s shoulder. Eddie. Looking at him, wide-eyed.
“I’m sorry, mate. Really. I know this was important. For all of us. But she’s not here, man. She’s not here.”
Noah looked back at that bloodied patch in the road. He didn’t want to believe Eddie, but he was right. Jasmine was gone. No amount of burying her was going to change anything. They had to move forward. Grieve together. Stick together.
They had to fight through this. Together.
Because they were strong enough.
They had to be strong enough.
He crouched down. Put a hand on the bloodied concrete. Felt the tears welling up. The lump in his throat.
“I don’t know where to start,” Noah said. “I guess I should probably start with the beginning. That night at Martin’s. Monopoly. You rolling your eyes and saying how stupid it was ’cause you kept landing on my property. Making me feel kind of guilty when you landed on Mayfair and went bust.
“I remember thinking you hated me that night. You know when you just get the irrational feeling that someone doesn’t like you, even though there’s no real signs that’s true? I got that with you. Even when we spoke in the hallway for two hours about goals, about ambitions, about family, about life… I still got that feeling there was something not quite there.
“And then you made out with me. I guess that’s the moment everything changed, isn’t it?”
He looked away. Wiped a tear from his eyes.
He didn’t want to break down.
He wanted to stay strong.
He could do this.
“You told me something once. You told me you’d never stop loving me. Even if life tore us apart. I’d always be a scar on your psyche. That’s how you put it. A scar. We laughed about it. I told you I thought you were a cheeky bitch for calling me a scar. But I get it. I get it, right to this day. And I’ll never forget it. Because you’re a scar on my life, too. And I wouldn’t want it any other way. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
He looked down at that bloodied pavement, and he tried not to see that as Jasmine. He tried to see beyond it. Through it.
“I love you, Jas. And I’m so glad we got to have this final week together.”
He stepped up. Walked away.
Eddie planted a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Oh, mate.”
Kelly walked over, then. She crouched, too. She said some words. But they weren’t as clear as Noah’s. They were quieter. More to herself.
But when she turned around, she wasn’t crying anymore.
There was a smile to her face.
Like she was at peace.
They stood together. Noah. Eddie. Kelly. Barney. Stood in silence as the clouds thickened. As that cold wind picked up.
“What now?” Eddie asked.
Noah took a deep breath. What now? That was the question. Everything had changed. But in a way, their goal was very much the same.
Noah went to look back on the derelict town and say the only words he could say.
That’s when he saw her.
At first, he wasn’t sure whether it was her or not. A figure. A figure in the distance. Long, dark hair. Tall.
The more he looked, the more certain he grew that it was her after all.
“Jasmine?” Noah said.
He staggered up the road. Eddie and Kelly looked on. Clearly unsure at first. Clearly uncertain.
But then they saw too.
They must’ve done.
’Cause they didn’t say a word.
They didn’t try stopping Noah.
“Jasmine?”
He ran towards her. Got closer to her. Even though everything in his body told him he was wrong. That this couldn’t be real. Because he’d killed her. He’d watched her die. He’d held her in his arms and left her at the side of the road.
“Jas…”
He saw something then.
A shift on her bloodied, broken face.
Her neck twitching to one side.
And then she raced towards him, dragging that broken leg behind her.
Noah stood there. Stared at her. The world fading around him. Not understanding. Not knowing what was real and what wasn’t real anymore.
Just this.
Jasmine.
As he’d left her.
But alive.
Alive… of sorts—
A bang.
Another bang.
Blood spurting out of Jasmine’s skull.
And out of her neck.
“No!” he shouted.
He rushed over to her and landed by her side.
When he got there, he realised it was already too late.
“Jasmine,” he said.
He heard the footsteps approaching.
He heard the shouts from behind. Eddie. Kelly.
He heard Barney barking.
But he could only look at Jasmine’s body.
Look at her, gone, all over again.
He held her in his arms. Looked down at the one eye he could see, the eye that wasn’t battered and bruised.
“I love you,” he said.
And then he felt the hands grabbing him.
He heard the voices shouting at him.
He saw those quarantine suits surrounding him and dragging him away.
And as they dragged him through the streets, as they dragged Eddie and Kelly through the streets, and as Barney barked somewhere in the distance, he could only focus on one thing these people were saying.
Just one.
“We need to get you out of here. This virus. It’s not what you think.”
Chapter Fifty
Rupert Wisdom was on the verge of dozing off on his shift when he heard the banging at the gymnasium doors.
It was a miserable afternoon. Far shittier than any of these summer days so far. Temperatures had plummeted, too. To be honest, the sunshine was one of the only things that got him through these miserable shifts at the quarantine zone he was stationed at. If he focused closely enough on his present experience, he could really convince himself he was just back at home in his garden on a gorgeous day. The warmth of the sun on his face. The taste of fizzy beer across his lips. The smell of barbecues, and the buzz of international football on the television in the conservatory.
But today was grim. Cloudy. Cold. Not a normal summer’s day.
And that banging at the gymnasium doors.
Something didn’t add up.
He turned around. Looked at the doors. Felt sick. Actually tasted vomit, in fact. ’Cause they’d made a tough call a day ago. The people they had here. The people with the virus. They were beyond saving. There was nothing they could do for them. Best thing they could do was segregate the ones who were infected from the ones who hadn’t shown signs—yet, at least.
And he’d had to listen to some shitty things these past few days. He’d listened to screams. To cries. A whole lot of shit.
But for the most part, they’d done what they had to do with this bunch of infected.
They’d gassed them out in the night.
Put them down.
Now it was just a case of figuring out what to do with them next.
But that banging on the gym doors.
Someone was in there.
Alive.
It didn’t add up. Critchley, his boss, told him there wouldn’t be a single survivor. That they were doing the right thing for the greater good. The sooner they started wiping the infected out, the better, as much as Rupert felt shit beyond belief about that.
But he wasn’t imagining things. Might’ve had a long shif
t. Might’ve been strained to the absolute max the last few days.
But he knew what he was hearing.
He walked over to that door, slowly. Kept his rifle raised. If there was someone in there, he knew what he needed to do. Open those damned doors. Put them the hell down.
But it wasn’t easy. Because they were people. They were people just like him. People who had jobs. Families. Children. Lives.
He was just one of the lucky ones. One of the lucky uninfected.
Even if he didn’t feel so lucky.
Not with some of the things he’d done.
Not with some of the actions he’d had to take.
The door banged some more. Black paint crumbled off it, fell to the ground.
Rupert walked closer towards that door. Stopped, right in front of it.
He lifted his walkie-talkie. Pressed the green button to report a problem.
And then he stopped.
He knew what they said about him. He was useless. He didn’t use his initiative. They thought he was a fucking idiot, and they treated him like one.
He lowered his walkie-talkie.
It was time to start taking things into his own hands.
It was time to start taking responsibility.
The door banged again. No voices behind it. Nothing.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
He swallowed a lump in his throat.
Took a deep breath.
“Someone in there?”
The door stopped banging. Went totally silent.
And for a moment, Rupert wondered if that was enough. If someone was just fucking around with him. Seemed like the likeliest option right now.
And then the door started banging again.
Faster this time.
Rapid.
Bang Bang Bang Bang.
He lifted his rifle.
“I’m gonna shoot. If you don’t stop right now, I’m gonna…”
The door stopped again.
No more banging.
Nothing but silence.
Rupert stood there. Realised he was shaking. His arms. His legs. His whole damned body. Adrenaline taking over. Shit.
The banging had stopped. Felt like a long time, even though Rupert knew damn well it was probably just a minute.
He stepped away. Lowered his rifle, just slightly.
Just a survivor. Just someone begging for air. They’re gone now. Nothing you can do. They’re—
“Hello?”
A voice.
A voice that sent shivers up his arms.
Raspy.
Shaky.
He lifted his rifle. Pointed it at that door again. Heart racing. Felt like he was in some kind of nightmare.
“Hello?” he said.
He stood there. Listened for a response. Listened for anything.
But there was nothing.
Nothing but the silence.
Nothing but the memory of that voice.
He looked down at his walkie-talkie again. “Fuck.” No time for fucking around right now, no matter what anyone said.
He lifted it to his ear.
Pressed that green button.
Static crackled at the other end.
“Hello?” he said.
The line was dead.
He lowered his rifle. Looked around at the empty yard of the school. The grey brick of the gymnasium. The flaking black paint smeared across the school, in much need of a repaint.
Nobody around.
Everything so quiet.
He looked back at that door, and he knew he was on his own now. As shit-scared as he was, he knew this was on him. This was his responsibility. He was a soldier. It was his damned job.
He was supposed to ask questions about why they were doing what they were doing.
About why the government seemed to know more about this outbreak than they were letting on.
About why they were actively suggesting culling the infected, just a week after this shit broke out.
Or why the power had been taken out. Why it helped people. Why the spread of information was suddenly so threatening.
Why it was “good for people not to know the nature of what they were dealing with.”
He pushed all his doubts to one side, and he opened that gymnasium door.
He stepped back. Lifted his rifle. Went to pull his trigger right away.
The inside of the gymnasium was dark. Dusty. There was a ghastly smell in there. Rotten eggs and death.
And beyond the smoking fumes, he saw something else.
There were people in there.
Dead people.
Only they weren’t on the floor.
They were standing.
They were looking at him through deadened eyes.
They were alive.
A child stepped out. A little girl. Blonde. Grey-skinned. Blue pyjamas torn. Blood crusted around her mouth.
Then someone else.
Bullet wound in her chest.
Eyes focused, right on Rupert.
Beth.
The soldier he’d killed.
She stood there a few seconds. Stared right at him. A recognition to her eyes. A glassiness.
“B—Beth?” Rupert said.
He didn’t get to say anything else.
The child lunged towards Rupert.
Rupert lifted his rifle, and he fired.
He kept on firing as they piled out of that gymnasium.
As they raced towards him.
As they flew at him with rage, one by one.
And as he ran out of bullets, as they landed on top of him, as they ripped at his throat and tore at his insides and shredded him to pieces, one by one, he could only think of one thing in all the agony.
One thing, in all the pain.
First, that these people weren’t just supposed to be dead.
They were dead.
The government was right.
This wasn’t just a virus.
This was something far, far bigger than just a virus.
The suppression.
The end of communication.
All of it made sense.
This was the apocalypse.
END OF BOOK 2
Apocalypse, the third book in the Surviving the Virus series, is now available to pre-order on Amazon at
http://smarturl.it/ApocalypseRC
Want More from Ryan Casey?
Apocalypse, the third book in the Surviving the Virus series, is now available to pre-order at Amazon: http://smarturl.it/ApocalypseRC
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any reference to real locations is only for atmospheric effect, and in no way truly represents those locations.
Copyright © 2020 by Ryan Casey
Cover design by Damonza
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Published by Higher Bank Books
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