by Ryan Casey
And he knew that as much as he might be insane, something was wrong. Desperately wrong. Something was far worse than he’d ever imagined.
He looked back at that terraced cottage ahead of him. He’d been on the road for days now, getting by on scraps. He’d seen someone inside this place. Tucking into a bag of crisps. They’d blown the candles out a while back. He had a chance to get inside. To take whatever he needed. It wasn’t exactly gonna be a feast, but it was something at least.
He crept down the pathway towards this cottage. Cut around the garden at the side, walked into the back. Saw this weird, spooky shed at the bottom of the garden staring back at him. Didn’t know why, but it gave him the creeps. Sent shivers up his arms. He didn’t like it one bit.
Especially not ’cause for a moment, he swore he saw movement in there.
He crept towards the patio doors. The windows had been boarded up. He’d have no problem yanking the wood aside with his hammer. Had to be careful, though. Had to be quiet.
He placed the hammer on the side of the wood when he noticed something.
The door.
It was open.
He frowned. Weird. Why would this door be open in the middle of the night? Unless there was a problem with it. It just didn’t make sense.
Unless…
He heard footsteps behind him and then felt something cold against the back of his neck.
The hairs on his arms stood on end.
Every muscle in his body turned to stone.
“You need to get away from here,” the man’s voice said.
Mark didn’t even think.
He went to swing around with that hammer—
A pain.
Right through his throat.
He looked down. Saw a knife sticking out of it. A hand at the end of it. The taste of metal filling his mouth.
And that’s when it dawned on him. Not in a melodramatic moment. Nothing like that.
A moment of pure-as-shit clarity.
He was stabbed.
He was stabbed in the throat, and he was going to die.
He looked at the grass as his legs began to shake, as the blood filled his mouth, as breathing grew difficult.
A dog stared up at him. A rottweiler. Growling.
And beside that rottweiler, holding that knife, a guy.
A big guy. Bearded. Quite dishevelled.
But not with a nasty look on his face.
Not the look Mark expected.
“I’m sorry I had to do that,” he said. “Really.”
Mark went to open his mouth to say something.
And then he dropped to his knees.
Eddie looked down at the man lying on the grass of Kelly’s lawn, and he took a deep breath.
Killing was never going to get easy.
Chapter Six
Noah tried not to choke on the blood at the back of his throat.
He lay back against this table and stared up into the bright light above. It was searing, burning. Gave him a headache. He never thought he’d admit to wanting to have that blindfold wrapped around his sore, tender head again, but he did. Even though that woman had removed it because he’d “cooperated so well.” He just wanted to be anywhere but here.
And then there was Kelly.
He’d seen her, he was sure of it. Only a moment without that blindfold while he was being dragged in here, but he’d seen her over some big guy’s shoulder. He’d kicked out. Tried to break free of the grips of the guy pushing him into this room.
But then they’d just pulled his blindfold back in place, and then that woman had shoved something sharp into the back of his throat. Something that felt like a needle.
He didn’t know how long had passed. But it felt like forever, pinned down to this table.
But eventually, something unexpected happened.
She’d pulled the blindfold from his eyes.
He looked up and around this room. It was as he remembered from his glimpse. Very white. Very clean. Very medicinal. Medical equipment everywhere. The stench of disinfectant so strong it made him want to heave.
And then that woman, standing opposite.
Just her and him.
She looked at him with wide eyes. With a half-smile. She had a big white protective coat on, and a bubble mask covering her face. There was a kindness to her expression. But there was something else, too. Something that made Noah feel uneasy.
A deadness to her eyes.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
Noah didn’t see any point in fighting. He felt strangely relaxed. Wondered if this woman had given him something to calm him down. It’d explain a lot. “I’ve been better.”
She tilted her head, half-smiled. “I understand this is difficult for you.”
“I’ve been blindfolded for weeks. Kept strapped to a chair like some prisoner. I’ve been shitting and pissing into a bucket once a day, if I’ve held it in that long. I… Believe me; you have no idea what this is like for me.”
She nodded. “You’re right. It’s naive of me to assume I know what you’re going through. But you have to believe me when I say what we’re doing here is for the greater good.”
“It’d help if you told me what the greater good is.”
She looked around at Noah. Her smile widened, just a little. “I’m not at liberty to share that information. Not yet, at least.”
Noah laughed. It hurt his throat, but screw it. “You’re not at liberty? Of course you aren’t. That’s what you all say. None of you are at liberty, are you?”
“You can be comfortable about one thing, though.”
“Go on. Tell me what I can be comfortable about.”
She walked over to him. Put her hand on his chest again. Smile widening. “There’s something about you. Something that means you are… potentially valuable. Going forward. So rest assured, we’re going to be looking after you as well as we can.”
A shiver shot down Noah’s spine. He didn’t like the tone in this woman’s voice. There were so many questions he had. Kelly. Whether Eddie was okay. The dead… Jasmine rising from the dead.
But in the end, it was another question that came to mind.
“Who are you people?”
The woman smiled. Sighed. “I can tell you that much. I think you’ve earned some clarity for your troubles. I’m Dr Watson. I represent a group with interests in curing this outbreak. In developing a way to reverse the damage as much as possible, and also ensure we move into whatever new chapter awaits our species safely.”
“What does that even mean?”
She moved her hand away from Noah’s body. Walked across the room. Stared into space. “There’s a lot you don’t understand about this virus.”
“You can tell me that again.”
“But… but if there’s one thing you should know—that we should all know—it is that it is unlike anything we have ever encountered as a species. And something else. We’ve been aware of the potential for an outbreak for a long time. We feared in the wrong hands something might go desperately wrong. We just didn’t think…”
She took a deep breath. Looked back at Noah. Smiled. “Anyway. You’re probably itching to get back to your room.”
She walked over to him. Out of nowhere, someone else appeared. A bigger bloke. A guard. He lifted the blindfold. Went to place it over Noah’s eyes.
“Please,” Noah said. “Dr Watson. Just… just give me my sight, at least. That’s all I ask for. It’s not like I can break out of my cell with my eyes, is it? Please.”
She tilted her head. Looked like she was really thinking about it.
And then she nodded at the bloke. “Cover him for now. But take it off when he gets back to his room.”
“But—”
“Do it, Matt.”
Matt sighed. He looked a real angry brute. He dragged the blindfold over Noah’s eyes. Unhooked him from this table. Got him back on his feet, and nudged him across the room.
Noah felt a hand on h
is arm.
“Things will make sense, in time,” Dr Watson said. “But for now, rest assured that you’re making a great contribution to the cause. You’re saving people’s lives. And you’re aiding the future.”
She squeezed his arm. A little too tight to be totally comfortable, her nails digging in.
And then she let go, and the man called Matt pushed Noah out of the room.
“Kelly,” Noah said.
“Hmm?”
“My friend. The girl I saw. She’s okay. Isn’t she?”
No response.
Nothing but silence.
“All will be clear in time,” Dr Watson said.
And then Matt pushed Noah further out of the room. Walked him back down that corridor, footsteps echoing against the metal walkway. Back towards his room—his cell.
He pushed him inside.
Cuffed him to that chair.
And for a moment, Noah thought he wasn’t going to comply with the no blindfold request.
But then his vision returned.
And for the first time, Noah saw his room.
Empty. Tiled walls. Lifeless. Windowless.
A cell, no doubt about it.
The man—Matt—went to the door. Stood there, shook his head.
“She’s far too lenient with you if you ask me. That face of yours. It’s way too punchable for my liking.”
And then he slammed that door shut.
Darkness filled the cell.
Noah sat there on that chair.
But he smiled.
Because in his hands, he held a scalpel.
The scalpel he’d grabbed from the desk at the side of the room when Matt had eased him past.
He didn’t care about the greater good or any of that bullshit.
He was finding Kelly.
He was finding Eddie and Barney if they were still here.
And he was getting the hell out of this place.
Chapter Seven
Eddie made sure he stabbed the intruder in the head a good few times before burying his body at the foot of the garden.
Wanted to make damned sure this creep didn’t come back from the dead.
A thought he never bloody expected to have.
He sat there in the darkness. Stared out at the garden, beer in hand. Barney sat by his side. He was used to these nights like this. It’d been a few weeks now. How many? He’d lost count, to be honest.
But there wasn’t much else he could do but sit around. Stare into space. Wait. For what? He wasn’t sure. Death, probably. ’Cause he wasn’t best equipped for this world.
He looked at his baggy jeans. He was losing weight, which yeah, was probably a good thing in all truth. He hadn’t eaten much these last few weeks. Hadn’t had much to eat in Kelly’s house. Supplies were running low before they’d set foot out of this place a few weeks ago. And sure, there was more to go around when there was just the one person. And he’d gathered a few supplies where he could along the way.
But mostly he just wanted to stay here. Lay low.
Because what else could he do?
He was on his own. Noah and Kelly were gone.
And there wasn’t a thing he could do to change that.
He took a sip of beer and thought back to that awful day. First, Jasmine. Seeing her standing there in the distance. Noah racing towards her, panic and fear in his voice.
And then the gunshots. One of them shooting her to the road.
Then those people arriving in their quarantine gear.
Grabbing Noah. Grabbing Kelly. Grabbing him. Dragging him towards that van.
And at that moment, facing a choice between accepting his inevitable fate or trying to do something about it.
So he’d fought back. Punched his way free.
And as much as he’d wanted to go after Noah and Kelly, as much as he wanted to try and save them, he’d been faced with the same choice Noah and Jasmine had just days before.
He’d had no choice but to run.
Barney trailing alongside him.
He’d tried to find the van they’d been taken off in a few times. Tried to retrace his steps. But the more he spent outside, the weirder things seemed to be getting. Shit that didn’t add up. Bodies disappearing from the streets. Footsteps in the silence. That sense he was being watched. It gave him the creeps. He didn’t like it one bit.
So he’d gone back to Kelly’s. The coward’s move, sure. But what the hell else was he supposed to do? Keep on wandering aimlessly around a world that’d fallen apart? To hell with that.
Better to just head back to Kelly’s and wait things out with Barney.
He thought about Kelly and felt a stabbing pain in his chest. Reminders of her everywhere around this house. Was it fair to say he’d fallen for her? Yeah. Sure. She was cute. And she was nice with him, too. Which actually meant more to him than the cute side. He wasn’t used to women being nice with him. Especially surprising when it was someone like Kelly, who seemed to have a knack of being nasty with pretty much anybody.
Maybe that’s all it was. He was distracted by the fact she’d shown some kindness towards him. Carried away by the fact she’d shown a modicum of interest in a loser like him.
One thing was for sure. At least he was losing weight. If he ever did see her again, he might actually stand a chance.
Nah. Don’t be daft. She’s way out of your league. Fatty.
He sipped back more of that beer and felt his vision going cloudy. He’d killed three people over the last few weeks. Three weeks, or four weeks since he’d last seen his friends? He wasn’t sure. It was all blurring together these days.
The one thing he feared most? Growing numb to the killing. Not feeling guilty. But he’d done it ’cause he’d had to do it. One of them was infected. Two of the others were trying to steal from him.
But it was just the fact that it had become so normal, so ordinary, so commonplace… that’s what hurt him the most. Got to him more than anything else. Killing was the first port of call in many cases now. A frigging month since things went to shit, and he was talking about killing like it was ordinary. That’s the world he lived in now. And it wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.
He needed to remember his humanity.
And yet he needed to remember not to lose his human life, either.
He looked at Barney. He sat there, tilting his head. He’d lost a little weight too. Didn’t seem too fussed, though. He liked Barney. Good company. A reminder that the one thing that mattered above anything was being present. Just moving on, step by step, day by day.
He ruffled his fur. “Least you’re okay, lad. Never complain as long as you get your biscuits, do you?”
Barney tucked his head into Eddie’s hand.
Eddie took a deep breath. Sipped back his beer. He looked back at the bottom of the garden. It was late. Probably early hours. Time to get some kip. Or at least try to. Sleep didn’t come easy these days. Not with the people out there. Not with the infected out there.
And not with the memories, oh so present.
He stood up. Turned back to the house.
That’s when he heard them.
Footsteps.
And then he saw them.
Torchlights.
Three beams.
At the front of the cottage.
He lay down low. Gently closed the back door. Grabbed his knife and crept around the front. He needed to know who was here. Needed to know who he was dealing with.
He walked around the house. Edged to the side of it, retracing the path he knew the bloke he’d killed had walked.
And then he reached the side and crouched behind a hedge.
There were three people.
Walking along the road.
It was hard to make out whether they were men or women or how old they were because of the light shining. But they were laughing about something. They sounded positive. In good spirits.
“If it’s true, then we need to get there. We’re in luck. But we don’t
know how long our luck’s gonna last…”
Eddie squinted. Frowned at these people. Barney by his side. He wanted to know who they were. Where they were going. What they felt so lucky about.
He edged a little further forward when something made him freeze in his tracks.
The torchlight.
It spun around.
Shone against him.
And as much as he tried to hold his breath, as much as he tried to keep a low profile, as much as he tried to keep still, he knew he was in deep, deep shit.
Chapter Eight
Noah waited until the man who fed him came to his cell before making his move.
He sat there in this empty cell. Dark walls, with dirty tiles. The muffled sounds outside a lot clearer now he had his vision. His throat stung like hell after that jab pierced the back of it. And he couldn’t get Dr Watson out of his mind. She gave him the creeps. Just something about her demeanour. Like she was trying her best to come across caring and compassionate, but there was nothing behind those eyes.
He knew what he had to do, as he sat there, scalpel in hand. He’d cut through his cuffs around his wrists and ankles—for real this time, not some kind of dreamy fantasy, or at least he hoped. He was ready to fight his way out of this mess. Because one thing was for sure: he didn’t trust Dr Watson and her bullshit claims about how he was “special” and how he was going to be “looked after.” He’d been cooped up in here far too long.
He was getting out of this place. Whether it was alive or in a body bag, he didn’t care so much anymore.
Just as long as he gave it a shot.
Just as long as he tried to save his friends and get the hell away from this place.
The door opened. The man stood there, opposite. First time he’d seen him properly. The same quarantine gear as the rest of these nutters. He had a balding head, was around his fifties, he’d guess, and piercing brown eyes.
He looked into Noah’s eyes, and although Noah hadn’t seen him before, he knew this was the guy.
“Looks like they’ve had some mercy on you,” he said. “Aren’t you the lucky one?”
He walked across the cell. Metal pan in hand. Steaming hot food that looked even worse now Noah could actually see it. Beige gunk. Spaghetti that looked like it’d been boiled for far too long, with some grim, ominous-looking green sauce pasted all over it. Jesus. No wonder this shit made him heave.