by Casey, Ryan
She looked out at those five infected smacking at the glass and felt a tear roll down her cheek, salty against her shaking lips.
She was right all along.
She closed her eyes.
Thought of Charlie.
Thought of the last time she’d seen him as she sucked on that cold metal of the gun.
Her husband. Her husband of forty years. Always so healthy. Always so optimistic. So positive.
Dead.
She went to pull the trigger as the glass smashed.
I’ll be with you soon. I’ll be with you.
The infected fell into her kitchen.
She pulled the trigger.
She didn’t see those infected drop dead right before her.
She didn’t hear the silence.
Ken was running around the block when he felt a twinge in his chest.
He’d always been a healthy guy. Always tried to stay fit wherever he could. Even now, in this gated community just outside Munich he called home, he went for a run every single morning.
Even though the infected always stood outside those gates.
Watching.
Waiting.
He looked at them as he passed them. Always found it something of a challenge. Get as close to them as he could, then drift away from them. He figured he was immune. Or lucky. He’d not shown any signs of being affected by the infection or the virus or whatever it was yet, anyway, so that was something.
He drifted closer to that fence for a look at the infected when he noticed something.
They were lying on the ground.
Ken stopped. Weird. Looked like they’d dropped dead. Like they’d got tired of stalking this place and just… given up.
He ran back to his house. The streets seemed quieter. Fewer people about. Something unusual. Something changing.
He stepped into his house. “Marianne? Something weird’s going on out there.”
He smelled a sweetness to the air. Not like death usually smelled. Like… perfume.
He walked up the stairs. “Marianne? You up there?”
He saw her lying on the hallway floor right away.
Smashed perfume bottle by her side.
Totally still.
The only thing that cut through the silence was Ken’s scream.
Hayden liked to keep his pets trapped.
He looked across the dark, dingy cellar at the pretty blonde thing tied to the chair. Smiled as she cried. He liked hurting ’um. Liked causing ’um pain.
He walked over to her. Knife in hand. More pain. Pain like he’d suffered. Pain like he’d been through.
“Please!” she cried. “Let me out! Please!”
He stumbled towards her, drooling hard. “Ain’t nobody going nowhere. Ain’t nobody coming for you. Keep quiet little angel. Pretty thing. Keep quiet, and everything’ll be okay.”
He went to take another step when he felt it all at once.
A sudden bolt. In his head at first.
Then in his chest.
And then he tasted blood in his mouth.
And then, just like that, Hayden fell to the floor and cracked his skull and felt nothing.
Monia watched her captor fall to the floor, just like that.
For a moment, she felt hope. He was dead. He was dead. He wasn’t going to hurt her anymore. She was going to be okay.
But then fear.
Because he was the only one who knew where she was.
He was the only one who could let her out of here.
Who could help her.
She kicked and screamed at the top of her voice and prayed for a miracle.
Four days later, she died of dehydration.
Silence.
Noah held on to Jane and waited for the infected to slam into them both and engulf them entirely.
But then he noticed something.
The footsteps.
They stopped.
All of them just stopped.
He opened his eyes, wondering whether this was death, whether this was just some kind of delayed reaction to the pain.
When he looked ahead, his eyes widened.
The infected lay totally static in a heap before him.
But not only that.
People around him. People who had been standing. Some of them still standing. But some of them dead, too.
“Are we safe?” Jane asked.
Noah looked at the mass of bodies, and he didn’t know what to say.
He looked back. Saw Eddie standing there. Zelda. Kelly.
People lying dead around them.
Animals lying dead around them.
And all Noah could say was: “Yeah. Yeah, I… I think we are.”
His voice echoed through the silence.
Chapter Thirteen
II: AFTER
Noah saw movement in the distance and froze.
It was sunny. Warm. Fresh spring air. The smell of the sun beating down on the concrete before him. A long city road ahead of him. The usual sights. Decaying, rusting cars sitting stationary, dead. Long grass in the gardens of the houses, never to be mowed again. The sound of birdsong and wind. The only two sounds he really heard anymore, aside from his own footsteps. The voice in his head.
And the smell of decay.
He looked at the bodies lining the streets as he walked down the road. He didn’t think much of them anymore. Faces of the dead. Men. Women. Children. Old. Young. Black. White. Infected. Uninfected. The Event didn’t discriminate. Whatever happened on that fateful day six months ago—he knew it was six months ago because he’d been counting the days religiously ever since, eager not to lose track—it had changed everything all over again. The world had changed, in that click of a finger.
He remembered the infected breaching the walls of their Galgate haven. He remembered holding Jane, Malcom’s daughter, as those infected bodies raced towards them. He remembered being surrounded, and knowing damn well there was no hope, there was no escape.
He’d accepted death, right at that moment, as grim as it was.
But then something happened.
The biggest damned thing of all.
The infected hadn’t hit them.
They hadn’t been swallowed up amidst them. Torn apart. Ripped to shreds.
He’d opened his eyes, and the infected lay there. Dead. Properly dead this time.
As too did people.
So many people.
He tasted bitterness in his mouth. Remembered the initial elation he’d felt. The crazy emotional roller-coaster they’d all rode on. Because something had happened to those infected. Something had floored them.
But then they’d gone outside Galgate, and they’d found it wasn’t just the infected who’d approached them. It was a whole lot more of them. All of them lying there, dead by the side of the road.
And then more communities. More villages. Campsites. Individuals in their homes.
All of them dead.
So many of them dead.
A few still alive. But like, one in a hundred or something.
And the more they searched the world, the more they discovered they were facing a very different kind of problem. A very real kind of problem.
The infection, he wasn’t sure how or why, but it’d self-destructed.
And it’d taken the bulk of humanity along with it.
A lot had changed on that day. Everything. His purpose, in a sense. Because Dr Jenkinson told him he was special. He was immune. There was something different about him. He theorised that he might be some kind of “beacon” for Trojan, whatever the hell that really meant.
But that didn’t matter anymore.
None of it mattered when most of the population had been wiped out in a flash.
He squinted ahead. Heat shimmered against the surface of the road. Up ahead, a couple of noisy crows swooped down. Crows were bastards these days. Seemed like they’d evolved in the space of a few months into absolute bullies. One day three months back, in the thick of winte
r, a trio of hungry crows swooped down on him, tried to peck at his hair and eyes. Pulled a few chunks of his locks out.
He didn’t know if it was the infection or whatever. Maybe it’d shifted its preferred species. He doubted it. Animals were among the dead, too. Dogs. Cows. Pigs. Sheep. Everything.
Which made surviving in this world a challenge. Couldn’t exactly restart farming and kickstart the world when you had nothing to work with.
That movement he swore he saw up ahead. He wasn’t sure. Probably just the heat. Or the crows. He was still on edge, though. There were people out here. Plenty of people still around. But the vast majority had gone insane by now. Lost their goddamned minds. And many of the ones who’d survived that initial blast were wise or strong enough to keep on surviving. They didn’t know how to make it, so they’d starved or dehydrated within days.
Noah thought about the compound, all that time ago. How they’d told him he was special. How they could use him as some kind of cure research. Like, he was immune, and they wanted to use him.
He smirked. How irrelevant that was now. How mad it was, in the grand scheme of things.
What use was a cure for a virus that was dead?
What use was immunity when the last thing on your mind was infection?
“Didn’t see a thing,” he muttered. His voice was raspy and dry. Didn’t sound like himself. He tried to keep talking, just ’cause he feared he’d lose the ability or forget how to if he didn’t for a while. Besides, it was nice to hear another voice.
He remembered the voices of his friends.
The ones who were left, anyway.
He shuddered. Pushed those away from his mind.
“Don’t need any friends. Not in this world.”
He went to take a step when he saw movement again.
It was definitely something. Between the cars. And it looked like a person. Maybe a woman. A girl. He couldn’t tell. Dark hair. Slim.
Maybe he was just hallucinating. Wouldn’t be the first time. He’d been near death’s door a few times these last few months. Winter was tough. Thankfully, it was colder and rainier than snowy or anything. If it was a snowy, frozen winter, it might just’ve killed the rest of humanity off.
But he saw this movement, and something told him it wasn’t his mind playing tricks.
It was for real.
He lifted his knife. Weapons weren’t exactly in short supply anymore. One of the perks of this wipeout. Lots of supplies. Lots of shelter. Lots of chances to start again.
But then the sheer lack of people meant it was harder, too.
’Cause there was no central society.
There were just individuals. Individuals scattered across this crazy, desolate landscape.
But maybe it was better that way.
Every time Noah had been in company, it’d just turned to shit.
Or maybe that was just him.
He crept down the road. Kept low. Didn’t have any qualms about killing people if he had to. He’d had to before. Felt kind of sad. There were so few left that it was a shame when you had to put someone down. Felt like you were really contributing to the extinction of humanity.
But he was ready. Prepared. Had to be.
He stepped up to the car he’d seen the movement by. A black Toyota Yaris. Sat there a few seconds. Heart racing. Chest pounding. Part fear. But part excitement, too.
He wanted to see someone out here. Just see someone good.
Not to spend any time with. That was scary. That wasn’t what he wanted.
But just to see someone.
Humans were social animals, whether they liked it or not.
He held his breath, and the second he heard the scuttling of footsteps right at the other side of the car, he jumped out, knife raised.
And then he froze.
Short. Dark hair. Slim. Wide, blue eyes, and long black hair. Tight black jeans, dusty and torn. Pale-faced. Narrow cheekbones.
But he recognised her.
He knew exactly who she was.
“Noah,” Jane said. “How the hell are you doing?”
Chapter Fourteen
Kelly held on to her huge belly and wondered why in the name of God she’d ever got herself pregnant.
It was another warm day. Hell, it was always bloody warm these days. Her back ached. Her feet ached. Every damned thing ached.
And the one thing she wanted, more than anything? The one thing she found herself craving for despite all its connotations, and how much it annoyed her?
Cheese puffs.
A succulent, tasty bag of cheese puffs.
She didn’t tell Eddie, though. Not once.
She sat at the edge of their house. They were staying in a detached place just outside of town. They’d been here a few days now. Life was a case of moving from one place to another. Using up the limited supplies, then on to the next. Not as difficult as it used to be. No looking over her shoulder, fearful of an onslaught of infected. Even though the bodies in the streets and the sour smell of the dead in the homes were a constant reminder of what’d happened. Even though she feared that one day they’d just get up and rise again.
It’d been months now. Six months, in fact.
And she was close to bursting.
In some ways, it was easier. But in others, it was more difficult. It felt like life had taken on a great purposelessness. Like all meaning had drifted away. At least in the world of the infected, you could focus on finding shelter. Of maybe finding a community with grand ideas and order and structure.
But this really was a case of everyone for themselves.
Because there were so few people left.
She heard footsteps creaking their way towards the front door, and the hairs on her arms stood on end.
“Hey,” Eddie said.
She looked up at him. Still surprised her, seeing him with this new look. He was slimmer. Gaunt, almost. Long hair tied back in a ponytail. A white T-shirt stained with sweat.
And whenever he looked at her, there was a combination of looks to his eyes. One of total adoration. And another of hate. Of devastation.
And she knew why it was.
She knew exactly why it was.
He sat down beside her. Quiet. They often had moments like this. Moments of total silence. Moments just watching the newly sprouted leaves shake in the wind. Of listening to the birds. Listening to the space between the sounds. It was quite calming. Quite meditative.
But then she’d feel a kick in her ribs or an immense pain in her back, and she’d be reminded of the burden she carried and the burden that lay ahead of her.
“Baby doing okay today?” Eddie asked.
Kelly nodded. “As wriggly as ever.”
“How you fee—”
“I’m fine.”
“I just—”
“I’m fine, Eddie. Really.”
She glanced at him. Sitting there. Open-mouthed. Like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t.
And she felt bad for him. That was part of the problem. She felt sorry for him. Because he adored her, and she knew it. She meant the world to him. She was everything to him.
And that was on her. Because she didn’t feel the same way about him.
“Sometimes I wonder whether it’d be better if I’d died and Anwar had lived.”
Kelly frowned. “What?”
Eddie shook his head. “We don’t talk anymore. Every time I joke, you roll your eyes. Every night, we spend in different rooms. I ask about the baby, and you act like… you act like it’s not my baby in there, too.”
“Feel free to grow half of it if you want,” Kelly said.
“That’s not what I’m getting at. I just… I get that things weren’t going to work between you and me. I get that. I’m not an idiot. I just wish you’d let me be there. I just wish you’d let me be… be a friend.”
She looked into his eyes, those sad, kind eyes, and she felt total pity again. Total shame.
In some ways, Eddie was right.
She wished Anwar were still here. He’d dropped dead on that awful night. Fallen to the ground. Cracked his head on the road. Shook. Spluttered blood. Then everything had gone still.
But she’d never felt anything major for Anwar. There was sexual chemistry there, of course. He was pretty nice, in an aloof, arrogant kind of way. But she never saw him as a long-term partner. Or as a father.
And then there was Eddie…
“Look,” Kelly said. “I’m sorry if I’m cold sometimes. It’s just—”
“I know things from your past make it hard. But the truth is… we’re in this situation together. We’ve got a kid coming into the world. And it’s going to be tough. It’s going to be damned impossible. But we’ve got to do what’s right for that kid, and that means letting it have a happy mum and dad. Even if you do hate me.”
Kelly’s heart sank again. “Eddie, I don’t hate you.”
Eddie shrugged. “Sure feels like it sometimes.”
“It’s just… It’s impossible to describe. But I feel like… Well, none of us wanted this, did we? None of us asked for this.”
“It’s a bit late to be having second thoughts now.”
“I don’t mean second thoughts. I know. Trust me; I know exactly what road lies ahead. I just… Sometimes I think about the world we’re bringing this kid into, and I feel ashamed. Because no kid deserves to grow up in a world like this.”
She looked around at Eddie, tears clouding her eyes now. Shit. She was never a crybaby. Never, ever wanted to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her in tears. Being pregnant did funny things to a person.
And as much as she thought he was going to make some jokey comment, he just half-smiled.
“We’ll do our best,” he said. “It’s all we can do. Right?”
She smiled back at him. She wanted to apologise to him. She felt so ashamed. But her walls. Her defences. They’d got her this far in life. She couldn’t fight them. She couldn’t resist them. She had to just accept them. Because they were a part of who she was.
She went to say something when she heard footsteps up ahead.
Spun around. Stood, a little too quickly for her pregnant belly.
And then she saw them standing in the road.