Surviving The Virus | Book 9 | The Final Strain Read online

  The Final Strain

  Surviving the Virus, Book 9

  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

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

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  Chapter One

  Jaan looked down at the mass of bodies below and tried to detach himself from the whole damned lot of it.

  He’d been in this helicopter for four hours now. He was starting to feel a bit sick. Always got a bit sick after too much flying, which probably wasn’t ideal for someone in his position. Always knew when it was getting too much for him, too. The sickly taste of phlegm at the back of his throat. Rapid heartbeat. Sweating. Nausea.

  But then that could be something else.

  That could be what they’d just done.

  What they’d just begun.

  What was unfolding on the ground beneath them, as he stared down into hell.

  “Holy shit!” Viktor shouted. Laughing. Clapping. “Did you fucking see them drop, Jaan? Did you fucking see them drop?”

  He slapped Jaan on the back. Jaan wanted to turn around. To throttle him. Because this psychopath needed to show some fucking compassion. The people who were falling. The ones who weren’t infected—or at least weren’t showing any symptoms of infection. They were martyrs. They were heroes. They were sacrifices for the greater good.

  But Viktor was a psychopath. He was treating them like cattle. Treating them like this was just a game.

  But in his anger, in his horror, all Jaan could do was stare.

  All he could do was watch.

  And all he could do was feel nothing but a deep helplessness surge right through him.

  He looked down onto the ground below. Into the dark, cloudy, grey surroundings of this British town. It was a community they’d just gone over. Looked quite a peaceful one. There were quite a lot of them there. Men. Women. Children. Dogs. All running through the streets. Happy. And then looking up. Intrigued.

  And the worst thing?

  The worst thing, as Jaan looked down through his binoculars, down at these people, so unknowing, so unsure?

  The way they looked up with hope.

  Like they were here to help them.

  Like there was something they could do for them.

  They’d never let go of that hope inside. And that was fucking crushing.

  Viktor slapped Jaan on the back again.

  “Fuck. First of many. That shit’ll never get old, I swear. Never.”

  Jaan gritted his teeth together.

  All he could think about were the kids he’d seen.

  The little boy and girl. Blonde. Clearly twins. Staring up at this helicopter. Born in the new world, so probably never seen a thing like this before. Heard stories, sure. But never actually seen it.

  And then Jaan being forced to nod.

  To follow procedure. Protocol.

  The compound falling out over them.

  Clinging to their flesh.

  Working its way through their body, into their organs, hunting down any trace of the virus, dormant or active.

  And then eliminating them.

  He shuddered at the memory. The powers that be promised it was quick. It was painless. But Jaan was no fool. He’d been involved in the testing phase for a long time now. He’d seen people bleeding from every orifice. He’d seen eyes bulging. He’d seen tongues swelling, bursting.

  And he’d heard the screams.

  The pained screams of children.

  The terrified howls of dogs.

  And all he could ask himself was: was this worth it? Really?

  Was the price of some semblance of a future really worth it when so many were going to die? So many were going to suffer?

  And did the future really belong to people like his masters? Was that a kind of future he wanted to live in, really?

  “The people who think they run this place,” Viktor said. “They know nothing about what’s coming. We’re gonna make ’em drop. We’re gonna make ’em kneel. We’re gonna make em—”

  “Do you ever shut up?”

  A pause. Nothing from Viktor, just for a moment. And Jaan regretted saying anything right away. He knew better than to mess with a prick like Viktor.

  “What was that, Jaan?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No. You definitely said something just then. What was that?”

  “I just… These people. You need to remember. They are dying for a cause. For a good cause.”

  “And your point is?”

  “I dunno. Maybe a bit more compassion would be helpful? Just maybe?”

  Viktor narrowed his eyes. And in that glance, Jaan was pretty sure compassion wasn’t a word in Viktor’s vocabulary.

  “I’ll show a bit of compassion when we’re back on our feet. When this virus is dead and buried. For fucking ever. That’s when I’ll show compassion. But right now… we do what we do. We don’t mope. We don’t get cute. ’Cause that shit’s what’ll drive us insane. And I ain’t going fucking insane any time soon.”

  He turned around. Looked back out the window. Back down towards the ground, smile on his face.

  And Jaan knew as he sat there, staring out, that there was nothing he could do about the people in his company. And there was nothing he could do about the people on the ground either.

  And Viktor. Psycho as he was. Maybe this was just his coping mechanism. Maybe this was just how he dealt with this shit internally.

  Maybe he was just as terrified, just as afraid, as everyone else.

  He stared down at the mass of bodies below. Just four, five still standing. A woman screaming as she held on to her dead, bleeding child. A dog twitching beside her, frothing at the mouth.

  Terror.

  Horror.

  A new world.

  He took a deep breath.

  Swallowed that sickly, nauseous lump in his throat.

  It was all for the greater good.

  It was all for the new world.

  It was all for a better future.

  He watched the community disappear out of sight, and he braced himself for the next in a long line.

  Phase Two had only just begun.

  And Phase Three and Four were still to come…

  Chapter Two

  If there were one thing Noah would never forget, it was the screams.

  He stood in the m
iddle of the industrial estate. Jet black clouds overhead. Specks of rain falling, cold and icy, sending a shiver down his spine. Everything in slow motion. Nothing seeming… quite real.

  But it was real. It was all very fucking real.

  The greying bearded man falling to his knees, clutching his throat as his tongue swelled up, blocking his desperate gasped breaths.

  The woman holding the grey, bloodied baby in her arms, screaming, crying.

  The little boy sitting atop his dad. Slapping against his chest. Crying. Beside them both, their dog lay dead.

  Noah stood there and looked around at this scene of horrors. It was all he could do. So weak. So defenceless. Not a thing even his abilities—his goddamned trump card—could do about this.

  Kelly stood by Noah’s side. She scanned the surroundings too. Looked at her own horrors. Speechless. Not a single word. Looking at the bodies. At the people—people she knew—running away from this place. Bruno standing by their side, whining, ears back, like he got it too. Like even he saw how horrifying this was. How much of a sea change this was.

  Noah looked up at the sky. Over in the direction the helicopters had disappeared to. Eight of them at first. And then more than he could count, covering the sky, shaking the earth. And deep down, instinctively, he knew. He understood. Everything came together. The bodies at Blackpool, back where Iqrah’s parents used to stay. The mass of dead Reds back in the woods. And the Society guards all dropping dead, all right before him.

  Suddenly, power had shifted.

  And he didn’t know who power had shifted to. He didn’t know who held the keys to the new world. Not anymore.

  But he understood what this was.

  It didn’t take a genius to see it.

  Somehow, someone somewhere had figured out a way to attack the infected. To really hone in on anyone with any trace of infection in their bloodstream.

  And destroy them.

  Only there was a problem.

  Him. Kelly. They’d had their own experiences with the infection over the years. Did that mean they were different?

  Or did it just mean the method this new group had come up with wasn’t as effective as they perhaps realised?

  He didn’t know. No point even speculating right now. No point trying to battle with an invisible enemy. A powerful enemy. An enemy way more powerful than him.

  They just had to focus on right now. The scenes in front of them. The mess ahead of them.

  “Kelly,” Noah said.

  Kelly looked around. Snapped out of the moment.

  And for the first time in a long time, Noah saw something.

  A tear in Kelly’s eye.

  “We’ll be okay,” he said. Even though he didn’t believe it himself. Even though he knew it was just words at this point. “We’ll… get through. We always have.”

  She opened her mouth. Like she was going to say something. Like she was going to question him.

  And then she closed it. And just looked at him with that dead eye. That distant eye.

  That’s when Noah saw movement behind her.

  Somebody stepped out from one of the alleyways.

  At first, Noah’s instinct was to lift his rifle. Because anyone was a threat. And that sense of threat was still heightened, even if they were on the cusp of living in a very different world, all over again.

  But then he lowered his rifle.

  Short. Blonde. Mean look on her face. Scarred chin. Missing a few teeth.

  She looked at Noah and Kelly with the most wide-eyed, stunned expression Noah ever thought he saw on her face.

  “Shel,” Noah said.

  “Wish I could say it’s good to see you again,” Shel said. “Not really the time, though, huh?”

  Noah nodded. He’d had a rocky start with Shel. She’d captured him a few weeks back, and after an initial confrontation, they’d ended up kind of striking up something of a mutual understanding.

  “It’s good to see you,” Noah said.

  Shel frowned. “You sure about that?”

  “Positive.”

  They stood there, the three of them—and Bruno. Stood amidst this mass of bodies. This mass of suffering. This mass of dead. And Noah felt so hopeless. So useless. Because what could he do, really? What could anyone do?

  “What now?” Shel asked.

  The question was as if she’d read his mind. He looked at the people suffering. That film, shiny across the skin of so many. The medicinal, almost chemical taste in the air.

  He looked ahead at these bodies lining the road. Most of them dead. Some of them dying. Fewer still of them alive, like them.

  And there was only one thing he could suggest right now.

  Only one thing he could propose.

  “We make them comfortable,” he said. “And then we clear the dead.”

  He walked ahead. Shoulders slumped. Every step like wading through tar.

  “And then what?” Kelly asked.

  Noah looked back at her. Looked into her lost, questioning eyes.

  And then he swallowed a lump in his throat.

  He wanted to have the answers.

  He wanted to help.

  But in the end, there were only three words he could say.

  “I don’t know.”

  She looked back at him. Shel looked back at him. Both as if they were on the verge of saying something else.

  And then both just nodded.

  “We do what we can,” Shel said.

  Noah turned back around.

  Faced this dying, suffering street.

  And he took a deep breath of the putrid, rancid air.

  “We do what we can,” he said.

  And then he walked towards the agonised screams.

  Chapter Three

  It took three days for the last of the dying residents of the industrial estate to breathe their last breath.

  Kelly stood in the medical bay. It wasn’t much of one in all truth, and it’d turned into something of a morgue. Just an old warehouse for a delivery company, a relic of the old world. They’d gathered the dying from the compound. Put them all in here. Helped them where they could. Gave them water. Fed them. Made them as comfortable as they could.

  But for all the dying they’d found—the bulk already dead—not one of them had survived. Some had died quickly, within minutes of being brought into here. Others were more stubborn. Some even looked like they were on the verge of beating this thing, whatever it was, and pulling through, showing serious signs of recovery.

  But then they’d take a sudden turn for the worse. Start choking on blood and vomit.

  All the same outcome. All the same result.

  Almost every damned person on this industrial estate of hundreds of people, dead.

  Only three remaining. Four if you included Bruno.

  There were a few more survivors. But they’d disappeared. Some of them had lost kids and didn’t seem to be taking any of that well, so they’d disappeared into the night, one by one.

  But as it stood, there was only Kelly, Noah, and Shel left.

  Of all the survivors, just those three. Still here. Still standing.

  She looked at the last person to die. A man, Amir. Long, dark hair. Soft brown eyes. This constant smile across his face, even in the most daunting, terrifying of moments.

  They hadn’t been close before, and she regretted that. He was the most interesting guy. He told her tales of his youth in Syria. Of the foods. The flowers. The architecture. He told her stories of his grandparents and how he hoped to visit them again, one day—even though he didn’t even know if they were still alive.

  She’d left him in here last night. Locked the door, like they always did. For their own safety. No way of knowing just how someone might react, whether they might fall infected themselves. You could just never be too sure.

  But when she’d walked back in this morning, Amir had breathed his final breath.

  No struggle. No excess blood. Just a little, stuck to his chin like stra
wberry jam.

  Those soft eyes staring into space.

  And that smile, that wondrous smile, still on his face, as if he were still just thinking about his lost past.

  She looked at his body. Moved it onto a trailer. Covered his eyes, then wrapped him in his sheets.

  And then she took a deep breath and wheeled him out the doors of this place.

  She walked out into the cool air. Autumn was racing closer. Felt like they’d skipped a season straight to winter in all truth, for some inexplicable reason. Crows swooped down from above, their caws echoing through the silence.

  Kelly pushed the tray along, wheeled it towards the exit to the industrial estate. They used to watch these gates so closely. Used to monitor them for all signs of life, living or dead. Never knew when you might encounter someone unsavoury.

  But right now, she barely even lifted her head as she walked outside.

  Because she knew nobody was coming.

  No infected. No survivors.

  The people in the helicopters, whoever they were, had done what they came here to do.

  And now it was clearly just a case of waiting until they finished enacting this plan before they rounded the living up and forced them to live whatever way they wanted.

  That’s what it seemed like. There were no other explanations for it. No other reasoning that Kelly could think of.

  They were the survivors. They were the lucky ones. The chosen few, ready to be launched right into the new world.

  She gritted her teeth. Squinted ahead through her one remaining eye as she walked along, pushing this body along, getting heavier and harder to move by the second.