Surviving The Virus (Book 5): Extermination Read online

  Extermination

  Surviving the Virus, Book 5

  Ryan Casey

  Contents

  Bonus Content

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

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  Chapter One

  Eddie pointed the gun at Noah and listened to the roar of the surrounding crowd.

  The blistering sun beat down from above. Eddie felt sweaty. He could taste the perspiration on his lips, bitter, salty. His stomach turned over, a rare lack of appetite taking over. He felt sick. Boiling hot. Shaking. He wanted to vomit. Wanted to throw all the damned contents of his stomach up—even though there was barely anything inside him. He couldn’t breathe properly. He couldn’t think properly.

  He wanted to get away from here.

  But he heard the cheering crowd.

  He heard Curtis laughing, shouting things, urging him on.

  And he knew there was no worming his way out of this situation.

  He knew damned well there was only one way out of this.

  He knew what it felt like to be trapped.

  He looked at Noah sitting on his knees on the dirty, dusty ground just across from him. A rusty shipping container stood behind him. Beside him, Zelda and Jane. Both of them looked almost unrecognisable. Skinny. Pale. Malnourished. Exhausted. Filthy.

  And Noah. He didn’t look good, either. His slim face was beaten, bruised. One of his eyes looked red and swollen. He was always a good-looking guy in a rugged kind of way. But right now, he looked drained. He looked pale. Exhausted. At the end of his tether.

  “Kill me, Eddie. Kill me. Just like he says. Save the others. But kill me. You—you know it’s what you have to do.”

  But Eddie could only stand there. Shake his head. Listen to the roar of the crowd. He didn’t know how he’d got here. The last twenty-four hours felt like a nightmare.

  First, abandoning Kelly and his newborn son. Leaving them with Sunil, who was no doubt a better goddamned father than he’d ever be.

  Then running into Curtis and his people. Feeling in a weird way like they accepted him. They liked his jokes. They seemed to appreciate him for who he was.

  And even though he was on edge, exhausted, broken down, mentally fragile-as-fuck… he believed he might be able to find himself amongst this new group. Like he might be appreciated within their circles.

  And now here he was. Pistol in hand. Best mate on his knees in front of him. Being told to put a bullet through his skull, or Curtis was going to… what, torture him? Make his life hell?

  How did he get here?

  How the fuck did it come to this?

  “Do it, Eddie,” Noah said.

  “Yeah,” Curtis barked. “Do it, Eddie! You’re too chickenshit to take out the women. So you do it! You get it done!”

  Eddie shook his head. He could taste vomit. He genuinely felt like he might puke any moment now. And fuck, wouldn’t that be a sight to behold for this crowd? They’d laugh at him, not with him. They’d see him for the weak, spineless fucker he actually was, deep down. For the parasitic leech he knew deep within he’d always been.

  Curtis again: “What’s the problem, funnyman? You run outta jokes, huh? You give us a joke! You give us a goddamned joke right now!”

  And then he heard another voice.

  This one, in his head.

  No, Eddie. No.

  Because he wasn’t weak. He’d proven that so many times in this new world. He’d stood up for himself when everyone doubted him. He’d sacrificed himself for the ones he cared about. He’d had the virus. He’d had it, he’d shaken it, and he’d survived on his own.

  He’d proven he was strong enough. He’d proven he was a survivor.

  He’d fought. He’d put his own selfish interests to one side, all so he could help those he cared most about.

  But for what?

  Another voice.

  That other voice, which made the hairs on the back of his neck stand right on end.

  But for what, Eddie? What have you got from all those heroic moments? Just how fucking far has it got you, hmm? It got you disrespected. It got you isolated. It put you in the exact same, weak-ass position as you’ve always been in. Because that’s who you are. A weak man. A weak, weak man who cares about nobody but himself—

  “I’m sorry,” Eddie muttered. “But I… I can’t. I just can’t.”

  He looked around at this yard of shipping containers. At the seagulls swooping down. He heard the waves of the water hitting the shore, smelled a stale saltiness to the air. And if he focused enough on the present moment, he could convince himself he was just back at the seaside, as a kid. Ice cream in hand, mouth watering. Avoiding the roller-coasters ’cause they terrified him. Watching the other kids sat inside those seats, locked inside and screaming with joy, and feeling at ease. Living through them. Happy. His parents beside him, chuckling.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to ride it, Eddie. It’s totally okay.”

  But looking back, he wondered if they really meant it. Or if they harboured that same crippling disappointment he felt about himself—

  “Eddie, you have to,” Noah said. “Or we all die anyway. It—it has to be me. It has to be me, mate. You know it. You know what you have to do. Exactly what you have to do.”

  He heard those words and was jolted right back to the present moment. He wanted to say so much to Noah. He wanted to apologise. Because Noah had done so much for him. He’d lifted him when he was down. He’d supported him. He’d always fucking been there for him, as much as Eddie sometimes hated to admit he was so reliant on someone else.

  Because as awful as it was, he knew Noah was right.

  The crowd was cheering for it.

  Curtis was cheering for it.

  The ending was already written here.

  And Eddie wasn’t sure he was strong enough to witness it.

  He edged the pistol back, just a little. A momentary flash. An idea.

  Turn the pistol on himself.

  Press it against his fucking chin and blow his brains out and be done with it.

  He wanted that now. He wanted to die. He didn’t want to be here.

  But then…

  Fear.

  He didn’t want to die.

  He was far too fucking scared for that.

  He glanced around at Curtis, momentarily. Looked at that large, ginger head. Those googly eyes. That frothing, drooling grin.

 
“Go on,” he barked, his breath sour and oniony. “Do it, man!”

  And he thought for a moment about turning the pistol on Curtis. Firing him down. Ending him.

  He knew that would be the “heroic” thing to do.

  But then he knew he’d die, too. And Noah and Zelda and Jane would probably die as well.

  “Eddie,” Noah said.

  Eddie looked back at him. Back into his tearful eyes.

  “It’s the only way.”

  Eddie lifted that pistol and felt his whole world falling apart.

  And then he heard another voice.

  A risk.

  A gamble.

  But something that might work.

  Something that might keep this psycho off his back.

  Something that might—

  “Do it!” Curtis shouted.

  “It has to be this way,” Noah said. “It can only be this way.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t,” Eddie said.

  Noah frowned. “Wh…”

  “Live together; die together. Remember?”

  He swallowed a lump in his throat.

  Prepared to do the goddamned worst thing he’d ever done in his entire life.

  Then he turned the pistol, pointed it at Jane, and fired.

  It all happened so fast.

  The bang.

  The bullet hitting her throat.

  Blood spurting out.

  Jane clutching her neck.

  Choking.

  Struggling.

  Noah’s eyes. His shriek.

  The shock and fury on Zelda’s face.

  The crowd’s horror and bewilderment.

  And Curtis’ hysterics.

  “Well, fuck! Fucking fuck! She ain’t dead! She ain’t even dead yet! She still got the twitches! Sweet Jesus!”

  He saw Jane glance around at him and look at him with total fear. And something else, too. Total hate.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered to himself.

  And then he pulled that trigger again.

  And again.

  With the third shot, she fell to the ground.

  Blood drooled from her body.

  She was still.

  He stood there in the silence. Wind brushing against him. Ears ringing. Everything disappearing into the background.

  “Shit!” Curtis said, slapping his back so hard it almost knocked him to his knees. “He did it! You’re a fucking sicko, dude! You did it!”

  He felt Curtis turn him around, and he looked into Noah’s wide, tearful eyes.

  “Eddie, no,” Noah said. It was all he could say. Desperation. Sheer desperation.

  And in Zelda’s eyes, total hate.

  And then Curtis turned Eddie around to face the crowd and lifted his hand into the air.

  “The funnyman!” he shouted. “To the goddamned funnyman! To the king of stand-up!”

  Eddie looked at the crowd.

  He looked at them clapping him.

  Cheering him on.

  And for a moment—just a solitary moment—despite what he’d done, despite the horror of his actions, Eddie felt a smile creep across his exhausted face.

  He wasn’t that fat-boy loser anymore.

  Chapter Two

  Noah heard footsteps and prayed it was finally time for food and water again.

  It was pitch black. He had no idea what time it was. Day and night lost all meaning in this place. In the early days, he counted how long it took between meal deliveries, tried to figure out whether it was evening they were feeding him, or morning, or whatever. But the times always varied. They always mixed things up. Sometimes, when the door opened, bright light seared into his eyes. Others, jet black darkness pierced by little bullets where stars covered the skies. There was no rhyme or reason to it. No consistency.

  Only that he was trapped.

  And food and water were the only two things he had to look forward to in life anymore.

  He was like an animal, his life at the mercy of his captors.

  He breathed in the pissy, shitty fumes festering in this container. He listened for those sounds again. The sound of footsteps. The sound of voices. The sound that someone was here to feed him. To let him drink. As he sat here, perched against the wall of this cold shipping container, he sometimes dreamed they took him outside for a walk. But he could never make it so far. His legs were too weak now. Just walking on them made him collapse. So much so that even though he could walk around this container, he didn’t bother. Not anymore. There was no way out. No point.

  Better to just wait to be watered.

  Wait to be fed.

  Wait to die.

  He was thin; he knew that. He could feel his ribs piercing through his skin. He had long hair and a thick bushy beard, which he supposed said something for the passage of time. He hadn’t changed clothes once in… fuck, however long it was he’d been locked away here. His jeans, which barely hung onto his waist, were covered in piss and shit, stuck to his skin. His T-shirt wasn’t much better. He knew it reeked of sweat, but in all truth, he wasn’t exactly smelling much anymore. He’d grown so used to his surroundings that none of it felt surprising anymore.

  There was no way out.

  There was no escape.

  He was trapped here with his thoughts, and his guilt, and his dreams.

  Sometimes, his dreams were nice. There were beaches and woods and forests. Sometimes, he saw Jasmine there.

  But other times, he saw somebody else.

  Jane.

  Jane, struggling. Fighting for breath. Spluttering blood. Dying.

  And he felt so bad for her. Because he’d failed her. He’d let her down.

  He liked her. More than he maybe cared to admit, and if he hadn’t been so fucking stupid, she wouldn’t have fallen into such a fate.

  But there was another element of guilt, too.

  He’d always turn around in his dreams and see someone standing there who filled him with horror. With terror.

  And that person was his best friend.

  Eddie.

  Eddie shook his head. Held on to that pistol.

  “It has to be this way. It can only be this way.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t.”

  “Wh…”

  “Live together; die together. Remember?”

  And then he pulled the trigger.

  Sometimes he fired at Jasmine. Sometimes, at Jane. Sometimes at Noah’s mum or dad or brother, Kyle.

  Sometimes even at himself.

  But there was always the same mixture of emotions.

  The betrayal.

  The anger.

  The rage.

  But above anything else, there was the guilt.

  Because he’d walked away from Eddie.

  He’d walked away from him, and something had happened to his friend. Something had changed him.

  He hadn’t realised just how much Eddie needed him, and he’d abandoned him.

  And now the Eddie he knew and loved was gone, and there was absolutely no turning back the clock on what he’d done.

  He lay there. Stared up into the darkness. Listened outside to those footsteps. It was the sound from one of the other shipping containers. Sometimes, he heard shouts. Sometimes, cries. Cheers. He lived in fear at first. A constant fear that they were going to torture him. Put him through hell. But in a way, he was relieved to hear the movement; to hear the life. It was his only link to the outside, now, morbid as it was.

  The days stretched on to weeks. And the weeks almost surely became months.

  And his only torture was that he was still in here.

  Alone.

  Trapped like an animal in a cage.

  And like an animal in a cage, Noah lived in an intense state of apathy now.

  He didn’t care whether they came for him.

  He didn’t even particularly care whether they tortured him, dragged him out there, and killed him.

  He just cared about his food and his water.

  And they goddamned fucking knew it.<
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  He sat there and stared into the blackness. He sat there, and he waited. He sat there, and he thought about all the things he could’ve done differently. Burying his mum, dad, and grandma when he found them. Not turning his back on Eddie. Staying by Jane’s side that night she offered to sleep with him.

  And Barney, too. Even Barney.

  He’d tied him up. Told him he’d be okay. Told him he’d be back.

  Where was he now?

  And where was Zelda now?

  Was she even alive?

  And what about Kelly?

  Where was she now?

  Safe in a community?

  Safe in her home, with no clue of the things the father of her child was responsible for?

  And despite all his rage, despite all his hate… he wondered where Eddie was, too.

  He hoped they hadn’t hurt him.

  He hoped he was still alive, somehow.

  As complex as those emotions were. As much as he couldn’t even understand why he felt that way.

  Because one thing was for sure.

  Noah wanted to be the one to kill him.

  He despised him for what he’d done.

  He wanted to make him pay for what he’d done.

  But instead, he just sat there.

  Stared into space.

  Muttered nonsensical words under his breath, time and time again.

  He wanted to believe he was getting out of this place.

  He wanted to believe there was hope out there.

  He wanted to believe, so so much.

  But instead, he just thought about his food.

  He thought about his water.

  And he thought about his guilt.

  He was trapped here.

  An animal in a cage.