Surviving The Virus (Book 5): Extermination

by Casey, Ryan

  ’Cause the war he was waging against his old master was very much a war from within.

  A trojan horse situation.

  He licked his chapped, dry lips. Caught a glance of his narrow, gaunt face in the rear-view mirror. He’d never been a looker. Mum always said it was Beth, his sister, who’d got the looks in the family. He got teased a lot for how he looked. Shorter than most guys. Flimsier. Weaker. Hence he’d worked on his strength all his adult life, got himself a bit more hench over the years.

  But he always knew he had a sharp brain. People underestimated him there. Always had. Thought ’cause he looked like a loser, he was a total loser.

  But there was more to ol’ Michael than met the eye.

  Things weren’t as rosy at Curtis’ as they seemed. There were plenty of people like Michael. He’d probably guess a good quarter of the people there were totally aligned with him, and another quarter was just too damned terrified to stand up for themselves. In time, the old master would topple. It wouldn’t take much longer.

  He just had to be patient.

  Maybe these first two acts would help.

  Freeing Zelda. Freeing Noah.

  He thought about Zelda first and felt a little sick. He’d helped her out. Had to. He couldn’t let her die. Not with what Curtis was planning next for her. He was planning on pitting her against a few people at once. And there were talks he had a bear from a zoo, too. That it was gonna be a real Gladiator-style event.

  Michael knew he just couldn’t stand aside and watch.

  He regretted what he’d had to do to Zelda. Getting real close, almost getting all rapey.

  But he told himself that wasn’t him. Not really.

  Really, it was all to get her the knife.

  And then he’d helped her out. Helped her escape.

  Noah… he was more of a wildcard.

  He hadn’t been planning on letting Noah go at first. He was a tougher one to get to. Their top prisoner.

  But in recent days, security around him had lapsed. Especially since Eddie had gone off to Westfield on his merry journey to save the day.

  So Michael had done something. Something stupid, maybe. Something risky.

  He’d gone right into Noah’s container and drove him out that place himself.

  It was a bold move. And it might well come the hell back to haunt him.

  But he knew if he didn’t get Noah away from that place, he’d never be able to live with himself.

  Besides. Without Noah, Curtis’ influence over Eddie waned, too.

  If only he could find Eddie.

  If only he could track him and tell him the truth…

  He swerved out of the way of a car blocking the road ahead. Shit. Needed to watch himself. Didn’t want to end up crashing on the road and dying out here. Now that would be a cruel twist of fate, especially after how damned far he’d come.

  He slowed down a little. Sweat trickled across his forehead. He had nothing to worry about, really. He was gonna be fine. He’d been out on nighttime supply runs before and hadn’t ever had a problem, so today was gonna be no different. He’d get back. They’d grill him where he’d been, and then he’d show them what the hell he’d brought back for them. The damned gift he had in the back.

  He smirked as he thought of it. They were gonna be chuffed with him. Impressed with him.

  Everything was gonna be fine.

  He slowed down when he saw the shipping containers approaching up ahead. The sun was just about starting to rise, casting a stunning glow over the place. He smiled when he saw it. He hated life at the compound. The descent into depravity gave him the goddamned creeps. And it was getting worse and worse over time, too.

  But moments like this were beautiful.

  Moments like this were a reminder that in all the violence, peace still existed.

  And that’s exactly why he came back here. ’Cause plenty of people wanted peace, too. Not everyone here wanted violence.

  They wanted justice, sure. And they wanted order and security, absolutely.

  But not like this.

  He stopped the car just outside the compound. Opened the door. Glanced around, didn’t see anyone. Weird. He expected the cavalry to be waiting for him right upon arrival.

  Fuck. Maybe security really was laxer than his overthinking mind thought.

  He opened the back door of the car and then felt a hand against his back.

  He turned around.

  Slowly.

  Two people stood there.

  Grant.

  Carlos.

  Both of them guards.

  Both of them with these mean expressions on their faces.

  “Come on, Michael,” Grant said. “Your time’s up, fella.”

  Michael wanted to reach into the back of the car. For a moment, he wondered whether he had time to grab a rifle. To gun them down.

  But then they dragged him away before he had the chance.

  He felt himself being pushed towards the compound. And as they walked him inside it, he felt a combination of things. Fear, first. A fear of the unknown.

  But also pride.

  Because he’d taken a stand.

  He’d taken a stand, and he’d done the right thing.

  And if that killed him, well so-be-goddamned-it.

  He turned the corner and saw Curtis standing there.

  Hands on his waist.

  And something beside him, too.

  Two wooden boats.

  “Hello, fella,” Curtis said. “Nice little trip outside?”

  Michael felt a sudden bolt of fear. Stronger now. Because he expected Curtis to kill him. Expected him to torture him. Expected him to make some kind of show of him.

  But these two boats.

  The people standing around them.

  And then the bottles of milk and honey beside them.

  Something about it just didn’t seem right.

  “Hey,” Curtis said, as Grant and Carlos pushed Michael to his knees before him. “Don’t go too heavy on the man. Look, he did what he did. No need to make him suffer for it. ’Cause he’s got plenty of suffering ahead of him, yessir.”

  A spark in his eyes.

  A quiver of Michael’s jaw. “You don’t scare me.”

  “You helped Zelda escape, huh? Our champion? And then when that wasn’t enough for you, you go and let our prisoner escape too. Ain’t that a turn of events for a man so loyal, hmm?”

  Michael knew there was no point in protesting his innocence. “You’re losing your grip, Curtis.”

  “No,” Curtis snapped. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m getting my grip back. And you’re gonna see. You’re gonna feel that for yourself.”

  He walked over to the boats then. Lifted some milk, took a sip. “Say, you ever head of ‘the Boats’, my friend?”

  “What about it?”

  Curtis smirked. “Somethin’ I’ve always wanted to try out. Saving it for someone who really deserves it. See, I thought about impaling you, but that’s boring. Thought about tearing you apart. Flaying you. But nah. Too… ordinary! Ha.”

  A shiver crept across Michael’s body. “What are you talking about?”

  “See, in ancient times, the Persians used to have a jolly interesting way of punishing their worst traitors. The Boats, it was called. Wanna know how it works? Go on. I’ll tell you. These two boats here. You get trapped between the two of ’em, right in the middle of a juicy old swamp just down the road from here. Right in the middle of the sun. We tie your nice little body between the boats, so your head, hands, and feet are still-a-pokin’ outside. And then when you’re having a nice little lie there, we feed you. We feed you real good. Milk. Honey. All our finest produce. We feed you til you can’t eat any more. We cover your face. Your body. Every damned inch of you. And we keep on feeding you and feeding you while you throw up everywhere. While you shit yourself. Beautiful, sweet honey. Beautiful, silky milk. Beautiful, delicious shit and sick.”

  Michael’s jaw started to quiv
er some more. He felt dizzy.

  “And then,” Curtis said. “That’s when the animals come along. The vermin. The flies. And they have a little snack-eroo, too. Lovely milk and honey. But a lovely bit of human on the side, as well. And while they’re eatin’ you alive in the blistering sun, we’re still feeding you. And you’re shitting yourself. You’re dehydrated. You’re weak. The more we feed you, the more you shit yourself. And the more you shit yourself, the more you cover the boats. You can’t die from the diarrhoea induced dehydration, see. ’Cause we’re keeping you alive! Bugs! Shit! Milk! Honey!”

  Michael felt like he was going to pass out.

  He quickly wanted to change his mind about his life choices.

  “And that ain’t it,” Curtis said, right before Michael now. “Because you’ve got no choice but to shit yourself in the hot sun, that’s when the maggots come along. And they work their way up inside you. And that’s when you die, you know? ’Cause the boats. They separate. And your half-gnawed body is there for us all to see.”

  Michael looked up into Curtis’ eyes. There was a mixture of pleasure and anger, rage and fury.

  He planted a hand on Michael’s shaking shoulder.

  “So, whaddya say? Time we took a little walk?”

  Michael shook his head. He felt tears building. “Whatever you’ve got planned for me. I did what I felt was right. And others will see you for what you are. For what you’ve done. You’re a monster. Monsters don’t live forever. And you know what? People are already standing against you. You’re just too dumb and blind to see it. Sleep with one eye open, Curtis. You’re going to need to from now on.”

  Curtis tilted his head. Just for a moment, he looked worried. Genuinely worried. Like Michael had hit a nerve.

  And then he smiled.

  He took a deep breath and sighed.

  “You know, I’d love to take you out to the woods and give you the old boats treatment. But man, I think that’d be a waste of our fine produce.”

  It all happened so fast.

  The knife.

  Burying into Michael’s neck.

  Again.

  Again.

  Again.

  He choked. Tasted rust. His dizziness grew heavier, stronger, as he fell to the ground.

  Curtis’ angry eyes stared down at him.

  “Sleep well, Michael,” he said. “We’ll leave your body out to the birds and show the people of this place exactly what happens to traitors…”

  Michael took his final breath.

  A smile of pride stretched across his face.

  And then blackness came for him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Noah woke in the burning sun.

  He closed his eyes right upon opening them. His head ached and spun. His mouth was dry, and his body wracked with pain. Every breath felt tight, wheezy. He just wanted to close his eyes. To curl up in a ball and hide away from the light. He wanted to disappear into the corner of a darkened room, squeeze his eyes shut, escape the pain, the fever, the…

  And then it hit him.

  The memory.

  Someone helping him out.

  Someone stuffing him into the back of a car and driving him out here.

  Was that real?

  Was it a dream?

  He opened his eyes again. Squinted out into the light.

  He was lying by the side of a house. Cool grass surrounded him, blanketed his body. The sun was directly above, which meant it had to be approaching midday. He didn’t feel warm, though. He felt cold. His teeth chattered. His body shook and convulsed. He tasted vomit. He wasn’t well. Wasn’t well at all.

  He turned around onto his side. Saw a rucksack beside him. He opened it with his weak, bony, shaking hands and dug in for whatever was inside there. The rucksack the man—Michael—left for him. That random act of kindness that helped him out of that hell; helped him escape.

  Inside, he found water, which he gulped back immediately before throwing up to the ground from his aching stomach. He drank a little more, slower this time, being careful not to outpace himself.

  Further inside the bag, he found some food. Some squirrel meat, which again, he paced himself with, tucked into. And as he ate, he found himself getting hungrier. Recharged, just through the mere act of eating a little food.

  There were tablets, too. Paracetamol, anti-inflammatories, and antibiotics, too. He took them all as advised and then lay back there again on the cool grass. He wanted to stay here for days. Recharge. Get his strength back.

  But there was an urgency, too.

  A sense that he couldn’t stay here. He was a sitting duck as long as he was here.

  He didn’t know what fate awaited Michael back at that hell from which he’d escaped. He’d said things about a revolution. About how there were plenty of people there who didn’t agree with Curtis’ actions, with his methods.

  He hoped that was true.

  There was something else, too. Something about Zelda being freed.

  And in the haziness of his consciousness, there was something about…

  He jolted upright.

  Eddie.

  Michael told him Eddie was being sent out to spy. Being sent to another group, around twelve miles east of their territory.

  Noah knew of a group twelve miles east.

  A place. Westfield, it was called.

  It’s exactly where Kelly, Sunil, and the baby were heading before this whole sorry mess began.

  He clenched his jaw. Michael told him he needed to get there. Warn the group. Rat out Eddie for the spy he was. And prepare them, too. Because Curtis has plans for that group. He had his eyes on that group.

  And Noah wasn’t going to let him destroy something else he cared about.

  He pushed himself to his feet. He was weak. So thin. Just catching his reflection in the window beside him was frightening. He was skeletal. His hair was long, as was his beard. He smelled bad. The clothes he was wearing barely fit him.

  He needed to make a recovery.

  He needed to take things one step at a time.

  But above anything, right now, he needed to focus on getting to Kelly’s place.

  To warning them about whatever horrors were on the horizon.

  To stopping Curtis, once and for all.

  He thought about Jane again. The guilt he felt. The private vows he’d made never to bond with people anymore. Not after that incident. Because he couldn’t be guilty for the loss of anyone else. And that’s all attachment did. Bred loss. Bred guilt.

  But then he thought of Kelly, thought of the baby, and he knew how guilty he would be if he never attempted to help them; to warn them.

  He tensed his fists and took a few deep breaths.

  He pulled the rucksack over his shoulder, a little heavy, made his back ache.

  And then he walked out onto the road, into the sun.

  It was going to be a long journey ahead.

  But he only had eyes on one place.

  On one goal.

  He had to find Kelly and her people.

  He had to warn them.

  And then—when the time was right—he would stay true to the promise he made Curtis.

  He would make him pay for what he’d done.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Don’t you move a fucking muscle, you dirty fucking snake. Or I promise I’ll take your ugly head clean off your fat, cheese-puff stuffed neck.”

  Zelda held the meat cleaver to Eddie’s neck. Her hands shook in the warmth of the morning. She wanted to cut him to pieces, right here. She wanted to make him suffer. Make him pay. She didn’t care what he had to say. Didn’t care how he protested. She’d just watched him shoot two people dead. If she didn’t act fast, a little worm like him might shoot her next.

  But he was wincing. Clinging to his shoulder, where he’d been shot by the guy called Marky. Marky, who lay dead by the side of the motorway, next to this other guy, the one who’d got off the motorbike.

  “Please,” Eddie said. “Jus
t… just hear me out.”

  Zelda kicked him right in the small of his back. And then she kneed him in the balls and pushed him down so he fell onto his gunshot shoulder. “I’m done listening to you, you fucking creep. You don’t deserve hearing out. You don’t deserve a fucking thing!”

  Eddie held a hand up. “Please!”

  But she didn’t stop. She kicked him, hard in the face. Booted him so hard, she heard his teeth crunch away. She liked that, so she did it again and again until he lay there, bloody, broken-nosed, and yet totally deserving every bit of it.

  “I know I deserve this,” Eddie spluttered. “I—I know I’m a bad person. A weak person. But I… Please. I did it because I was afraid. Like I do everything. Fear. Because that’s what I am. I’m—I’m just afraid.”

  Zelda shook her head. “You shot Jane. You stood there, and you shot her.”

  “I did it because you and Noah meant more to me.”

  “You did it because you saw it was your best chance of surviving at that moment.”

  “That’s not true,” Eddie said. “My… my best chance of surviving was doing what Curtis said. Shooting Noah. And believe me. I regret what I did. I think about her every damned night. I—I see her face looking back at me. Those eyes. The confusion. The pain. But… but I did what I thought was the only thing I could do at that moment. I hate myself for it. But I… I had to do it. Don’t you see that? I had to do it.”

  Zelda shook her head. She was sick of hearing this worm squirm. She’d pick him up. Drag him to his feet. She’d take him somewhere quiet and torture him. Then she’d send his body parts back to Curtis’ place for him to find.

  “I know I’m a monster,” Eddie said. “I see that now. I… I just killed Sunil. I just shot him. And you know why? It’s all just made sense. Sunil’s place. That’s where we were heading.”

  Zelda frowned. “Sunil?”

  “Sunil is… Sunil was looking after Kelly. Kelly. She had my baby. And I was jealous of her and Sunil. I walked away. I just… I killed him right now because I thought there might be a chance. A chance for me to go back there. To take Sunil out, so he was out the way, and to take Marky out, so he couldn’t tell. A chance to try again. To be a dad again.”