Pestilence: A Post Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (Surviving the Virus Book 8) Page 5

  But if they separated, if they were distant… maybe it’d make things more difficult for the Society. Maybe things would be different.

  But that closeness and that attachment to Iqrah conquered every other feeling he had.

  “What’s your story anyway?” Kirsty asked.

  Noah frowned. “My story?”

  “Before Iqrah. Before here. What’s the deal with you?”

  Noah thought back over the last few years, and truth be told, he didn’t know where to start. Not with his abilities. Not with Iqrah. Not with any of it.

  Besides. Iqrah. He didn’t know how much Kirsty even knew about her, either. Was that something that the kid only discovered when she’d been taken? He didn’t want to give that up. Didn’t want to volunteer that kind of information.

  Noah sighed. “I guess my journey hasn’t been so different to anyone else who’s made it this far.”

  “A lot of loss?”

  “You bet.”

  She opened her mouth, then. Looked like she was about to say something. Then closed it and stopped.

  “Look,” she said. “I want to get to Morecambe as fast as the rest of us. But I don’t like the look of those storm clouds over there.”

  Noah squinted into the distance. Saw a few grey clouds overhead. “They’re not storm clouds.”

  “Trust her,” Iqrah said. “She’s, like, an oracle when it comes to the weather.”

  Kirsty nodded.

  “Wow,” Noah said. “Bet you’re a blast at parties.”

  Kirsty rolled her eyes. “There’s plenty of buildings along the front here. Plenty of places for us to lay low for the night. I don’t see many infected around these days anyway. And the Society, they don’t seem too keen venturing far into No Man’s Land anymore. So we should be good, right?”

  Noah opened his mouth. He wanted to tell Kirsty he was doubtful about the Society not being out here, trying to track him and Iqrah down.

  Made him wonder whether he should just tell her the truth after all. ’Cause that might change things. Her being with Noah and Iqrah put her in danger by default. Maybe it’d make her think twice about taking them to the Morecambe community.

  And maybe it was the wrong thing for the community too.

  Maybe, in a weird way, Noah and Iqrah were better out here, with as few people around them as possible—preferably none—totally alone.

  “What do you reckon?” Kirsty asked.

  Noah looked ahead. Heart racing. He wanted to tell Kirsty the truth. He wanted to break away from this path they were on. Sweat poured down his face, salty against his lips. The tension of being with another person, trusting another person, especially with Iqrah…

  All of it built up inside.

  All of it threatened to explode.

  “I…” he started.

  That’s when he heard them.

  Footsteps.

  He looked over his shoulder, and right there, on the seafront, his entire world froze.

  Black outfits.

  Masked faces.

  And long shiny rifles in hand.

  They stood there and looked down the road at Noah, Iqrah, and Kirsty.

  And all Noah could do was stand there, heart racing, and stare back at them.

  “Society,” he said.

  And then they lifted their rifles and started running towards them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Noah saw the Society guards racing towards them, and he knew he had no choice but to run.

  “Quick!” he shouted.

  He spun around. Raced alongside Kirsty, along the promenade. The sky was growing greyer again, darkness setting in. The wind was picking up, making the waves crash and roar against the shore. Bruno panted as he raced along by Noah’s side. Iqrah clutched to his body, begging him to tell her what was happening, what she couldn’t see.

  But Noah knew there was no time to talk.

  The Society were here, and they weren’t messing around.

  He ran down the cracked, uneven road. Wormed his way between the remains of old cars, totally covered in weeds and foliage now. The buildings weren’t much better, mushrooms, mould, and fungi creeping up the windows. He knew they were going to have to go in one of those buildings now, lay low, take cover. Fuck. They didn’t even have any weapons other than a knife. The rifle he’d taken from the Folkesmithe Labs days ago long ago ran out of ammo.

  He looked over his shoulder.

  Four of those Society guards. Not far behind. Holding their rifles by their sides, like they really didn’t want to use them.

  Noah knew they wouldn’t want to kill him or Iqrah. But there was Kirsty and Bruno, too. They weren’t safe.

  And besides. What was a bullet in the leg going to do? They’d be under strict orders not to kill Noah or Iqrah. But debilitating them wasn’t going to be off the table if it made their jobs easier, right?

  “In here!” Kirsty shouted.

  Noah looked around, almost losing his footing. Saw Kirsty pointing at an old antique shop. The windows were dusty. The door had been smashed long ago. It looked dark in there, foreboding.

  He stood at the entrance to this antique shop. Didn’t know whether he wanted to go in there. ’Cause the Society were onto them. If they couldn’t get through here, they would be cornered. Their days would be numbered. They would be fucked.

  But then he heard those footsteps getting closer, voices starting to echo through the silence, and he knew he didn’t have a choice.

  “Fuck it,” he said. “Fuck it.”

  He followed Kirsty inside the old, dark antique shop. Old lamps lay across the floor. Creepy dolls’ heads peered up at him with wide crystal eyes. A smell of damp filled the air as mould crept up the walls.

  “There’s flats above these places,” Kirsty said, rushing through the shop, over the fallen debris. “We’ve got to get up there.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then, I dunno. We hide.”

  “Hide? These are Society guards, not fucking game players.”

  “Then we jump out of a window or something, I dunno.”

  “Sounds like you’ve really thought this through.”

  “Look,” Kirsty said. “The Society lot are thugs. You get some power trippers. But they’re usually not total savages. Maybe we can talk our way out of this.”

  “You really think that? After they took Iqrah away?”

  Kirsty frowned. “What do you know about that? Something you’re not telling me?”

  Noah opened his mouth. Then he heard the shouts outside. So close to the shop now. “Now’s not the time. Upstairs. Now. Shit plan or not, it’s the only plan we’ve got.”

  He swore he saw a glimmer of suspicion cross Kirsty’s face before she ran to the back of the store and behind the counter.

  When they got there, she froze. “Shit.”

  At first, Noah thought it was the door she was swearing about. Locked, probably. Fucking up their plans even more.

  But then he looked down behind the counter.

  A skeleton stared up at him.

  No. Two skeletons. Adult and child.

  Looked like they’d been here a while.

  Bulletholes in their heads.

  “And the door’s locked too. Fuck.”

  Noah’s stomach sank. He looked around. Saw the shadows of the approaching Society guards. “I told you this was a shit idea.”

  “Can we just do something?” Iqrah shouted. Her heart racing. Her voice cracking. Desperate in her blindness. “Please. I’m scared. I don’t want to go back. Don’t let them take me back. Please.”

  Noah pushed Kirsty aside. “Let me try that.”

  He grabbed the handle to the door. Tried to open it.

  Locked.

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah, like I said,” Kirsty said. “What’s up with that? Didn’t believe me?”

  He stood there with Iqrah over his aching shoulder, those footsteps getting closer, and he wondered if he could tap into that pl
ace inside. If Iqrah still had the energy to tap into it, too.

  The virus.

  He didn’t know how it worked.

  Only that they could harness it.

  Together, they could harness it.

  “Noah?” Kirsty said. “What… what the hell are we going to do?”

  Noah looked at Iqrah.

  And as much as his head ached, as much as he felt weak, as much as he tasted blood across his lips, he knew there was only one thing he could try now.

  “We’re going to have to try, Iqrah,” he said.

  Kirsty frowned. “What?”

  “Get down,” Noah said. “Seriously. Just get down. If this works… we’ll be okay.”

  “If what works?”

  “Just…”

  He didn’t get to finish.

  The Society guards stepped inside the antique shop.

  All four of them stood there. Rifles in hand. Hard to see their faces behind those masks. But he could tell from the wrinkles around the lead guy’s eyes that he was enjoying this.

  “Well, well,” he said. “Noah. Iqrah. Definitely match the descriptions. At least from what I can see.”

  Bruno kicked back. Growled.

  They took a few steps forwards. Rifles raised.

  “Tell you what we’re gonna do here. You two are gonna step out. Your friends here, well… they’re gonna have to join you, too. But I can’t promise we’ll be as easy on them. I just wanna level with you, pal. It’s not personal, alright?”

  Noah watched these Society guards enter the shop. He tried to focus on that place within him. Tried to hone in on the void. But it still felt distant. And he felt exhausted.

  And even worse than that… he couldn’t sense Iqrah anywhere close.

  He couldn’t feel her like he’d felt her at Blackpool, or in the Folkesmithe labs that day.

  The Society guards stepped further into the antique shop. Held their rifles out. “Come on,” the leader said. “Get from behind that counter right this second or I might have to put a bullet in your mutt. Understand?”

  “Leave my dog out of this.”

  The man laughed. “Ah. There it is. Knew there was a bit of passion in there somewhere. So what’s it gonna be?”

  Noah clenched his fist.

  He looked at Iqrah’s distant, blind eyes.

  Then over at Kirsty, who crouched behind him, holding on to Bruno.

  What’s it gonna be?

  He didn’t want those two to get hurt.

  But he didn’t want Iqrah to get hurt, either.

  He knew they were crucial to the recovery efforts, the pair of them.

  He knew they were both important.

  So maybe he had to try something different.

  Maybe he had to try something else entirely.

  He looked into Kirsty’s eyes.

  And as hard as it was, as goddamned impossible as it was, he said the words he knew he needed to say.

  “Look after her, okay?”

  Kirsty frowned. “What—”

  “Not gonna co-operate?” the man barked. “Ah, well. Can’t say we didn’t try.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  Noah felt something hit his chest.

  But it didn’t feel like a gunshot.

  More like a stabbing pain.

  More like a…

  He looked at his chest and saw the fluffy end of a dart poking out.

  He looked up at the Society guard. Into his smiling eyes.

  “No,” he said. “N…”

  His legs turned to jelly as he tried to stumble away. He clutched on to Iqrah, but his grip was loosening. He fell, smacked his head against the shop counter, and tumbled to the floor, Iqrah rolling to his side.

  He stretched out his hand, but it felt like wading through tar. His entire body going cold. Pins and needles everywhere, swallowing him whole. Iqrah saying things. Kirsty saying things too; things he couldn’t hear.

  He stretched out and felt Iqrah’s arm against his fingertips.

  “It’ll be okay,” he said. “It’ll be…”

  That’s when he saw the dart pierce Iqrah’s back.

  When he saw her distant eyes widen.

  When he saw her start to struggle, then scream.

  And then everything turned to darkness.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Noah opened his eyes.

  A sharp pain splitting through his skull.

  The taste of blood on his lips.

  A sense that something had happened. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. Something he couldn’t explain.

  He looked around and saw nothing but darkness.

  The memories came back to him. Fleeing the Society guards. Racing to the back of the antique store. Turning around and finding the Society guards entering the store, guns raised.

  And then he and Iqrah being pelted with darts.

  After that, darkness.

  His heart raced. He felt like he was moving, like he was in some kind of vehicle. He had no idea whether it was dark because something had happened—something like what’d happened to Iqrah. Losing her sight. Ending up blind.

  His stomach turned every time he thought of Iqrah. He didn’t know where she was. Didn’t know what’d happened to her.

  He just prayed she was okay, and that she was close.

  “Iq… Iqrah?” he called.

  His throat was raspy. Felt like he’d swallowed a bunch of daggers. He started coughing, leaning forward, only to be pelted back against the wall of whatever he was in—a vehicle, no doubt. Moving along some road.

  He tried to move his hand, but it was cuffed at the wrist.

  He sat there in the back of this vehicle and thought of all the ways he could try and get out of here—all the options he had. But he couldn’t think of any. None came to mind.

  The only one that came to mind was his ability to harness the virus.

  And now, it felt like he’d lost that. He’d tried to tap into it when he’d been behind the counter back at the antique store. He’d tried to sink into that place he knew he had deep within, as much as it scared him, as much as it was a last resort.

  He’d tried… but he’d failed. Because now here he was. And he knew Iqrah would be here too, somewhere.

  He opened his eyes again. Shifted his head a little, side to side. He needed to get rational, needed to devise some kind of proper plan. It was no point moping around in here, waiting for whatever was coming his way. He had to fight his way out. He had to escape.

  Or he had to die trying.

  He felt something in front of his face. Realised it was a blindfold. He could see a little light beyond it. Not bright or anything, but not total darkness either. At least that much was a relief. Not quite blind. Not totally screwed.

  He focused on his wrist, then. Tried yanking it away from the wall at the back. But whatever was around his wrist felt tough and sharp, like metal. Handcuffs, probably.

  He tried his ankles, then, but they were in the same state. Tried edging forward in his seat or whatever he was on, but again, no luck.

  He tried to keep on telling himself he had a chance here, that he could make it here, when he heard something opposite.

  A chuckle.

  A laugh.

  Noah froze. He looked ahead in the general direction of where he’d heard that laugh. Squinted into the darkness. Was he hearing things?

  Then he heard a voice.

  “Look, pal. I appreciate you wanting to get out of here. But that ain’t gonna happen.”

  Noah lowered his head. Sighed. Should’ve known there was someone back here with him. Stood to reason.

  Footsteps echoed along the floor of what must be some kind of van, right towards him. “I mean, I get it. Not exactly ideal for you. And it ain’t like you chose this. But you’ve gotta be realistic, pal. You really think you were gonna hide from us forever? Why do you look so goddamned surprised we’ve found you at all?”

  Noah gritted his teeth. “One thing I am s
urprised about is the fact you’d even sit in here with me when you know what I’m capable of.”

  The man laughed. “See, that’s the thing. Like the virus, we find ways to contain it. We’ve got our methods and our approaches to keep it exactly where we want it now. The districts. The rules. The perimeters. No Man’s Land. It’s the same with you, buddy. Exactly the same with you. Science is coming a long-damned way.”

  Noah frowned. Kept on staring into the darkness, unable to do anything else. “Are you gonna keep speaking in riddles? Or are you gonna level with me?”

  The man laughed again. He had this annoying high-pitched cackle that reminded him of a lad he went to school with called Jason. One of those kids who wasn’t popular, got bullied but didn’t help himself either. Always an arse with fucking everyone. Noah tried befriending him once on the advice of his mum. Invited him round for dinner. Worst night of his life. Jason spent the whole time turning his nose up at Noah’s place, saying how much better his place was, how expensive everything was.

  Irritating little fucker didn’t get a second invite; Mum made sure of that.

  “Okay. I’ll level with you as well as I can, buddy. That dart I shot you with back there? Turns out, it has some nice little compound inside it that stops you and the kiddo doing your wee magic trick. So I’d say don’t even think about trying it, but… well, I ain’t so worried anymore, so do whatever the hell you want.”

  Noah’s stomach sank. His one-party trick—one he’d resisted for so long—and now he didn’t have it in his locker, it terrified him.

  “Iqrah,” he said. “The kid.”

  “Ah. You’re interested in knowing about her, right?”

  “And the woman I was with, too. And my… my dog. You’d better not have hurt them.”

  A light chuckle followed by silence.

  Noah’s heart started racing again. He looked around in the darkness. “Hey. I’m speaking to you. You’d better not have fucking…”

  And then Noah saw light.

  He squinted at first. Took his eyes a sec to adjust to the brightness.

  But as it did, he looked around and saw his surroundings.

  He was in the back of what looked like an old police van. Only it had clearly been maintained, modified. A light shone in the middle of the roof, bright and medicinal.