Blood Type Infected (Book 4): Betrayal of Hope

by Marchon, Matthew

  “Pretty please.”

  “You are so lucky I love you right now,” I grumble, squatting down and gripping the cranial bear trap with both hands. “Oh my god, this is disgusting. How did you get your foot so far in there? I could untie your laces through his mouth.”

  With one last yank, her foot slurps out, bringing with it a thick stream of bloody goop like her boot was a tampon.

  I jump to my feet the second it’s removed, putting as much distance between myself and the oozing neck slop as possible.

  “Thanks. Love yoouuu,” she coos, planting a kiss on my cheek before opening the door and hopping into the driver’s seat. “Look at that, keys on the dash. We should probably roll the windows down, I feel like my foot’s not gonna smell the freshest. Best boyfriend ever?” she squeaks, shrugging her sexy shoulders in a way that makes me forgive her and sends me jumping into the passenger seat like there’s no place on Earth I’d rather be.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Norwood, what are you doing outside? Is everything alright?”

  “Oh good, it’s just you guys,” he says with a full body shake, lowering the gun he had aimed at our truck. “Can’t sleep, too on edge. Feng shui in that place is all messed up. Plus they’re like, messing with my chakras or something. We need– oh my god you guys fucked.”

  “What?” we both blurt out at the same time with identical guilty laughs that totally don’t seem the least bit suspicious.

  “You leave me here to deal with all their negative energy while you’re out getting your freak on. Not cool! Did you at least get the fuel to Sonny Valley?” Our demeanor must give us away because he doesn’t wait for a response. “Aw shit, what happened?”

  “All hell broke loose. We barely made it.”

  “But you’re alive.” Marty literally scares the shit out of me when he pops his head out of the hatch on top of the Stryker. Maybe not literally, let me just… okay we’re good, but it was close. “The others?”

  I shake my head. “Doug didn’t make it. Blake’s dead. Shane, almost, but he’s still out there. We lost Neil and Scott on this island, but, I don’t know if they’re alive. The tanker’s stuck in a ditch. One of them bit Felecia.”

  She lifts her arm to show the battle scar. They should both be captivated by the soft skin of her tricep but the sheer shock and concern on their faces means the horndog committee are more worried and confused than anything else.

  “When?” Marty stutters, rubbing his hand over his mustache as if we haven’t yet realized she’s going to turn any minute.

  “We think we found the cure.” Her silky voice could make anything sound good, but hearing those words leave her lips is even more magical.

  “Hold on, you what?” Marty jumps down, clutching his shoulder on the landing.

  “It’s the ocean. Saltwater.”

  “It’s what?” Norwood drags both hands down his face in an attempt to wipe away the confusion. “You’re fuckin’ shitting me?”

  “We put saltwater on the bite, she drank a bunch, it stopped her from turning. They can’t go in the ocean. Guys, we just came from there. The water hits their wounds and it’s like acid, I’m telling you, they melt down to nothing.”

  “You’re serious.” Marty twists his ponytail into a bun and plops down against one of the enormous tires, as if the news is too much for him to stand even a second longer. “You’re telling me, all this time, all we needed was the damn ocean?”

  “Dude,” Norwood shouts, jumping to his feet. “We gotta go tell Maxwell, she’s on the line with New York right now. If they can–”

  “Nah, it’s too late,” Marty interrupts with a wave of his hand. “She lost the transmission.”

  “And you didn’t feel the need to tell me that, you old woman haired bastard?”

  “I tried, you little skinheaded shit, you said you needed to cleanse your shockers or something. I figured I’d let you go back to sticking your pinkie up your ass.”

  “My chakras. And screw you, pinkies up the butt are underrated. Until you’ve tried–”

  “Guys!” I shout, because I tried whistling but it didn’t work so this’ll have to do. “Maxwell was on the line with New York?”

  “They know we’re here?” Felecia asks, wearily. “We still have a chance at making it there before it’s too late. Because this, this can save the world.”

  Marty cracks a smile that I haven’t seen on his face since this all began. “Three hours east of San Diego, there’s a military airstrip, on the Arizona border. Last stronghold left this side of the Mississip. They’re waiting there for us, a transport, small fleet of fighter jets. We’ll need to refuel a couple times for the chopper to make it but it beats the hell out of going across the whole damn country. From Yuma, it’s a six hour flight to New York, we board one of the last planes to Britain. That sounds weird because you’re Britton, but the other Britain. Great Britain. Not saying you’re not great too. England, okay, last flight to England.”

  Felecia’s hand instinctively reaches for mine as we try to catch our breath. My fingers fumble against hers for a second before finding their place. It’s really happening. We’re almost there.

  “One small catch,” he continues. “They want them scientists. There’s five of them locked in that dam outside Sonny Valley. Sounds like they know how it all started.”

  “Hold on,” Norwood says with an irritated clap of his hands. “You’re telling me, they want us to risk our lives to save the people who caused this bullshit in the first place?”

  “Son, do you want a flight out of here or not? This is the US military we’re talking about, they tell you to jump, you ask how high. Jump high enough they’ll take care of you for the rest of your miserable life and let me tell you, right about now, we need all the care we can get.”

  “You know what,” I say, letting go of Felecia’s clammy hand, realizing I let go and grabbing it once again, “after all we’ve been through, I don’t even care. We’ll be at the dam anyway, the helicopter’s right there. One thousand, two thousand of these fuckers, it doesn’t matter, they’re swarming us the second they realize we’re there. We’re killing every last one of them and getting the fuck out of here, once and for all.”

  “Amen to that brother,” Marty smiles, pointing a stern finger in my direction. “One issue still stands that we’re gonna need to contend with, I’d say immediately. We ain’t all fitting on that chopper. The double rotor, it never made it. Turns out they sent three, that and a Blackhawk got taken down. While refueling. Only one that made it is a Huey, like those ones you see in all the Vietnam footage. They hold about fifteen. We’re twenty, give or take. Noah, I know you and you’re gonna wanna try to find your new butt buddy and his little brother. Five scientists from the dam. Math may not be my strong suit but these numbers ain’t adding up.”

  “Fuck it then,” Norwood groans after a long moment of no one wanting to speak up because we all know what needs to be said. “I’ll say what we all wanna say, we leave the deadweight. There are people up there who ain’t worth the air they breathe, and I think we all know damn well who they are.”

  “Almost everyone’s asleep.” Marty nods, looking at me to gauge my reaction. “Maxwell will still be up, after the call. Doc’s asleep, his son’s manning the beds right now. Your girlfriend’s still awake,” he says with a grin, aiming it at both me and Felecia. “Won’t go to sleep until you guys are back safe and sound. Everyone else is out.”

  “Alright.” They all look surprised by my willingness to leave so many behind. “I take it we’re all loaded up and ready to go? Let’s sneak up there, get Maxwell and the pilot. I know they’re injured, but, Caylee and Tyrone. Let’s get Kristen too. And Paul and his dad to take care of them.

  “That makes eleven.” I know what Marty’s getting at. “We find Neil and his brother, we’re up to thirteen. Add the five lab rats and we’re hovering around eighteen of us.”

  “You’re gonna make me say it?” I ask. “Fine. There’s to
o many, but it doesn’t matter because odds are, some of us won’t survive to see that helicopter. And this is assuming we find Neil and Scott, alive.”

  “We’re not leaving Caylee, or Tyrone,” Felecia says for me, with enough authority to lay the debate to rest, for good. “Everything they’ve done, we’re here today because of them. They’re coming with us, conscious or not.”

  “Alright,” Marty says in that raspy voice of his that makes people listen whether they want to or not. “It’s settled then. Eleven of us leave here tonight. And just so we’re in accordance, we do all realize this means we’re leaving the rest of them for dead?”

  We all nod in agreement, knowing how wrong it is, but at the same time, understanding the necessity. It’s almost explainable why we’d leave the injured, I don’t think anyone could fault us for that, the problem is we’re not leaving all the injured. And we’re not taking all who are able bodied.

  I’m overwhelmed by guilt, despite most of them having tried to kill me, my father included. Darius, who’s been my friend since I knew what friends were. He forgot, not me. I would have protected him until the end had he not turned on us, no matter how useless he was. I would have fought tooth and nail to get him on that helicopter even when everyone else would try to convince me he wasn’t worth it. He would’ve been because he was my friend.

  We’re sneaking into the hospital but it feels more like running into a burning building, knowing you don’t have enough time to save everyone. Weighing the worth of a human life isn’t a power meant to be possessed by mere mortals, yet, here we are. Choosing who lives and dies. Judge, jury and executioner.

  Those who harmed me in the past, they don’t make it. They didn’t know when they were voting to throw me off the bus a couple days ago that their decision would ultimately kill them. The chunky O’Connor brother. The quiet girl, I forgot what someone said her name was. The Hansen kid, I honestly don’t remember what sport he plays but he’s Blake’s buddy. Some other kid who barely speaks, or, wait, no, Felecia said he got yanked out of the bus back at the military convoy. My father and his partner are up there, Sanders I think. The soldier who doesn’t look like he’s going to make it. Darius. They all get left behind. They all die.

  That’s a lot to put on someone’s conscience. And if it weren’t for the reprehensible things I’ve already done, I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. And if I did, there’s no way in hell I’d ever sleep at night. New version of me or not, how can I live with myself?

  How? Because I didn’t make this decision for them, they made it for themselves. They knew. They had two decisions, stand with me, or don’t. They didn’t need to try to kill me. That wasn’t necessary. I know it wasn’t because I didn’t try to kill them and I managed to get along just fine. They chose not to defend themselves. And now, they sit defenseless.

  When all’s said and done, and they’re left behind, I can live with myself because I didn’t kill them. I gave them every opportunity to live, to stand and fight, to take their destiny in their own hands. When we roll out of here, thieves in the night, I’m leaving them the same way they’ve left me.

  They don’t have to die. They can survive just like I did. But they won’t. And I can’t waste another minute saving those who can’t be saved. The time for guilt is gone. Survival, by any means necessary. It’s time to leave this hellhole once and for all.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Oh my god, you guys are alright,” Caylee whispers when she sees me and Felecia enter her room, index fingers covering our lips. “I was so worried. What’s going on? Why are we whispering?”

  “We need to leave, now.” I hand her the crutches without making a sound. “No, wait, they’re gonna be too noisy. Should I carry her?” I ask Felecia, pretty sure my body’s recuperated enough but I won’t know until I try.

  “It’s okay, I can be quiet. Not my first time with these bad boys. What’s happening?”

  “The plan fell through.” Felecia helps Caylee out of her hospital bed, careful not to bump her cast. “We didn’t make it to Sonny Valley. We’re gonna need to get the fuel truck out of a ditch.”

  “Oh no, is everyone okay? That doesn’t explain why we’re whispering.”

  “Maxwell just got off the phone with her superiors,” I say, helping her to her feet. “The helicopter with two propellers, the one that holds about 40 people, it never got to Sonny Valley. The one that made it only holds fifteen. Good news is they’ve got an airstrip in Arizona with fighter jets waiting for us.”

  “To take us to New York,” Felecia continues for me. “And then London.”

  “You mean, we’re really gonna make it?”

  She throws her arms around me and Felecia the second she sees our smiles. I don’t think any of us actually thought this could work. But knowing they’re there, waiting for us, it means we have a shot.

  “Felecia,” she gasps, “my god, your arm. What happened? Are you okay?”

  “I’m alright. Long story, I’ll tell you all about it on the drive. Come on, let’s get you outta here. I’ll be right back to help you with Kristen,” she whispers coldly, her vengeful eyes locked on mine. “Three minutes enough?”

  “Enough for what?” Caylee asks, her gaze darting back and forth between us in confusion. “Are you two fighting? Please don’t let it be about me. Don’t fight. What’s going on with Kristen? She woke up just a little while ago. Is she okay?”

  Felecia smiles, petting Caylee’s head. “Don’t worry Cayles, we’re not fighting. We just need some answers. Noah, she’s gonna cry,” Felecia says with so little remorse it could have come out of the mouth of the ice queen we all thought we knew. “Don’t tell her about Shane until we’re in the clear. I’ll be right back to help you carry her out.”

  I watch the two most incredible girls this world has ever known disappear into the darkness. Who would have ever imagined them becoming friends? And under these circumstances?

  A small part of me still wonders if maybe Caylee’s going to stab us both in our sleep, and I wouldn’t blame her. But she’s so genuine, I know that couldn’t be further from the truth.

  With so little good left in this world, I’m beyond lucky to have the friends I do. If it were anyone else with me in this situation, I would have died days ago. Not only do they pull me up when I need it, they give me reason to pull myself up.

  Dad. I’m not sure why but I didn’t expect him to be in here with Kristen. I guess I didn’t think about which rooms Dr. Hopkins would put them in, I’m sure it makes sense to him. I would have preferred not laying eyes on my father though. Leaving him behind is hard enough, I didn’t anticipate having to look at him.

  He’s so peaceful and harmless. Asleep, he could be the dad I want to remember. The one I had when I was little. The one that existed before Buckley dug his claws into the mild-mannered family man that all dads should aspire to be.

  You would never guess the person lying in the hospital bed before me could be capable of murdering his child. But he would have done it. There is no doubt in my mind, he was pulling that trigger. Too weak to stand up to his friend. His fearless leader. His hero.

  Dad was my hero once. I didn’t care that he was a little nerdy. That he couldn’t change a flat or teach me how to throw a football. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have those abilities, it didn’t stop him from trying to pass them down to me. He looked it up online and taught me anyway.

  I get it now, he didn’t want me to be like him. He didn’t want me to be weak and helpless. So he did everything he could to see that I would be stronger than him. I didn’t want to be like Neil’s badass dad. I wanted to be like mine. Hell, Neil wanted to be like mine. But people like Buckley have a way of poisoning those around them.

  I have to look away because seeing him like this, the way he looked when I’d wake him up on weekend mornings so we could go have adventures, he’s not my enemy. He’s not the guy who turned on me when I chose to stay with mom. He’s not the man who tried to kill me bec
ause someone told him to. He’s just my dad. And all I want to do is tug on his arm while he pretends to be asleep until he scoops me up and tickles me before our day of fun.

  That man is long gone and I know it. He’s been replaced with a gun-toting, gay-bashing, self-righteous, conservative racist who thinks he’s above everyone else. I miss the man who screamed the first time he fired a gun. I miss the man who didn’t think crying made you a homo. I miss the man who I was proud to call my father because I wanted to be just like him. The man who made me the man I am today. Not the man I shot in the chest with a flare gun. I may have hit his chest, but I was aiming for the main vein in that cold heart of his, hoping I could kill this imposter. Hoping my dad would still be in there. I know he’s not. But in the darkness, in the middle of the night, your eyes can play tricks on you.

  Kristen’s startled when she notices me hovering over her bed, trying to stop myself from crying. Trying to convince myself I’m not making a mistake I can’t unmake.

  The color’s beginning to return to her pale skin, finally. Don’t look at him Noah, look at Kristen. She lost a lot of blood back on the bus. You don’t think of a bullet wound to the leg as being fatal or even life threatening. But all it takes is an injury in the wrong place to end it all. And in this world, without the modern amenities we’re used to, death can creep up on us from literally anywhere.

  “You scared me,” she gasps, closing her eyes when she realizes it’s just me. “You are like, right there. Little personal space maybe? How did it go?”

  “Did Paul tell you what was going on?”

  “Sort of. You guys really need to patch things up. I don’t like it like this.”

  “Me either. But I’m pretty sure it’s not gonna change anytime soon.”

  “Okay, one, why are we whispering and two, why are you being so weird? Noah, what’s going on?”