Surviving The Virus (Book 4): Extinction Read online

  “We didn’t sleep together, okay?”

  “No. Of course. You just slept with your clothes off next to each other.”

  “Can you keep your voice down?”

  “Why? You embarrassed by her? Pretty girl. Bit young for you, though. People might start saying things.”

  “And that’s… look. We didn’t sleep together. Nothing happened. We just… Hell, what were you doing hiding in my room anyway?”

  Zelda’s eyes widened. “Wow. You don’t remember?”

  “Of course I don’t remember.”

  “Well if you don’t remember inviting me back to your room because I’d lost my key, I just wonder how the hell you remember not-sleeping with young Janey girl.”

  Noah blushed. Kept his head down. “Don’t call her that.”

  “‘Young Janey girl?’”

  “Yes. Don’t. Please.”

  Zelda sighed. Shook her head. “I’m just fucking with you. Who the hell cares who’s fucking who anymore?”

  “Malcom might care.”

  “Malcom likes you.”

  “Not if he finds out I’m banging his teenage daughter.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t—”

  “I’m speaking hypothetically, okay?!”

  Zelda smirked back at Noah. She’d got under his skin, and damn her, she knew it.

  “I don’t get why you’re so bothered, really,” Zelda said. “But I don’t think it’s really about Malcom. Is it?”

  Noah rubbed the back of his neck. Saw the steel wall emerging up ahead. Heard the laughter of the people working on it, perched atop the scaffolding. The smell of bacon butties filling the air, making his stomach rumble. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Zelda shrugged. “I think there’s more to all this than you not wanting to upset Malcom. Or you being bothered about… sorry. I won’t tease you about practically being a cradle snatcher anymore.”

  “‘Cradle snatcher.’ Way to affect my self-esteem on my birthday.”

  “I think this is about Jasmine, isn’t it? The girl you loved.”

  Noah froze, right there. The whole world around him seemed to collapse.

  Jasmine.

  Just hearing someone else say her name.

  The memories it sparked.

  Good memories.

  Happiness.

  Laughter.

  Love.

  And then bad memories.

  Stabbing her to death.

  Watching her skull crack open as she fell to the ground.

  Death.

  “Noah?” Zelda said.

  “Sorry. I just… Just got a bit warm for a moment there. Don’t know what happened.”

  But Zelda didn’t stop looking at Noah. Didn’t stop staring at him.

  “It’s okay to grieve,” she said. “It’s okay to be honest. About your emotions. We’re here for you. All of us are here for you. And it doesn’t make you any less of a leader or make us think less of you. Don’t forget that.”

  Noah looked at Zelda, and he wanted to open up to her. He wanted to tell her everything. How he felt. The emptiness inside, eating away at him every day. The sadness that hid behind every smile. The things he’d contemplated. The things he’d thought about.

  The obsessive ruminations that haunted his dreams.

  But in the end, he just nodded.

  Half-smiled.

  “I’d better get to work. So had you.”

  She looked at him. Stared. “Remember what I said. Okay? And don’t you forget it. Now go on. And try not to fuck any more kids while you’re at it.”

  Noah smirked. “Fuck off.”

  He turned around. Walked away from Zelda. Off towards the wall. Towards work.

  That smile held, just for a few seconds.

  And then it dropped.

  And the emptiness returned again.

  The void opened all over again.

  He was so focused on that void that he didn’t see Malcom standing right before him.

  “Noah?”

  Noah froze.

  Almost jumped out of his skin.

  “Malcom? H—Hi.”

  Malcom was a tall man. Muscular. Grey-haired and bearded. Always smiling, but not in a way to appease others. Just with a total confidence. A total ease. Leathery, sun-stained skin. Brown leather jacket, striped Breton T-shirt underneath. And black jeans and Dr Martens. Dressed awfully well for a guy of his age.

  But he looked deeply at Noah with those cold, blue eyes and said the words that almost made Noah shit himself on the spot.

  “Can I have a word?”

  Chapter Six

  Eddie sat in his flat and ate cheese.

  He’d shut his curtains ’cause he didn’t want the light to creep through the windows. And yet shutting the curtains made the living room cold, which annoyed him even more. He could hear a bird singing loudly outside, and that pissed him off too. But if he shut the window, it’d rattle in the breeze. Shitting hell. It just felt like everything was pissing him off this morning.

  But hell. That wasn’t a surprise. He knew exactly why it was.

  Kelly and Anwar. Kissing.

  Taking her those flowers and having to stand there and pretend he was a fucking peacock.

  He stuffed the cheese into his mouth. Gnawed at it until his pains all went away.

  He looked down at his belly, and he felt shame fill his body. No wonder she didn’t like him. He was a fat slob. He’d put a bit of weight back on since he reached Galgate—not as much as he used to carry around with him, but still way too much. He’d lost weight on the road. Actually started to look a little buff, or as buff as he could, anyway.

  But now, he looked down at his colossal belly, and he heard the bullies from school circling his mind again. Damien shouting at him, laughing at him.

  “Run, piggy! Run! Look at his manboobs! Look at his fat manboobs!”

  He stuffed more cheese from the dairy cows on the farm in his face. The shame was always present. Always there. Always waiting. Even his own parents used to look at his belly before they looked at his face. Almost like they’d forgotten just how big their boy was, and every time they saw him was a shock. A disappointment.

  But he just kept stuffing his face with more cheese.

  Because he was sad.

  And eating made him happier.

  He kept on replaying that embarrassing, excruciating moment earlier. The shame he’d felt. The look of amusement and pity on Kelly’s face.

  And the smugness on Anwar’s face, too.

  He was a dick. Didn’t care if he was the most popular damned guy in town. He didn’t like the guy. Because he looked down on Eddie. He shamed him.

  He was a grade-A prick.

  He was sick of pretending he liked jerks like him.

  He gritted his death and thought about Anwar kissing Kelly’s warm neck. He thought about her wrapping her arms around his head, rubbing her fingertips through his hair, that smile on her face, that panting, slightly sweet breath. The feel of her coiled around him, just like she’d been coiled around him two months ago…

  And he wanted to break Anwar’s neck.

  He wanted to break his neck and kick his head until his brains burst open and—

  He shook his head. Fuck. Those thoughts. Where had they come from?

  His heart raced. Guilt built up inside him, made his cheeks flush.

  He didn’t want to think about those thoughts. Because they backed up what people said about him. He was creepy. He was obsessive.

  And obsessing about killing somebody because he was with a girl he fancied?

  Surely that was… well, fucked up.

  He covered his face with his hands. He’d never act on his thoughts. He’d had obsessive thoughts in the past. Irrational thoughts. Stuff he wasn’t proud of. Usually got worse when he was stressed.

  And with the things he’d seen since the outbreak… yeah. He was pretty fucking stressed, that went without saying.

  “You’re
fine,” he muttered. “They’re just thoughts. They can’t hurt you. Keep it together, man. Keep it together.”

  He went to lean back against his sofa when he heard a knock on the door.

  He turned around. Shit. Maybe it was Dev. He was supposed to be at work an hour ago but hadn’t bothered. He was in charge of the food court. Perfect job for a fatty. No prizes for guessing how they chose him. He monitored supplies. Distribution. Rationing. That kind of thing.

  But he couldn’t face it. Not today.

  So he pretended he had a headache, full well knowing he’d get tested and swabbed for the virus.

  But he didn’t have it. Nobody had it here. Not anymore.

  At least not yet.

  He thought about sitting there. Waiting it out. Pretending he was asleep. For a second, he thought about pretending to snore loudly, but he didn’t think that’d do much good.

  He heard the knock on the door again.

  And he figured he couldn’t hide much longer.

  He got up. Walked across the wooden floorboards of his ground floor flat. Past Barney, who wagged his tail by his side. They kind of all shared Barney now. He and Zelda seemed to have this weird bond, but Zelda said she didn’t want any “creature” living with her, so he pretty much had the run of the place. Eddie envied him, in a way.

  “Come on, boy. Let’s scare them off.”

  Threw a little cheese to him, which he lapped up.

  He stepped into the dusty hallway. Walked over to the door, where he could see a faint silhouette on the other side.

  When he opened the door, he was greeted with someone he didn’t expect.

  Kelly stood at the door. Her eyes were wide. She was covering her belly. She looked like she’d been crying.

  “Can I come in?” she asked.

  For a moment, fuelled by narcissistic power and control, Eddie thought about saying no. Telling her to go cry to Anwar.

  But then that moment passed, and his infatuation and his kindness won out.

  So he opened the door. Ushered Kelly in. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You want a brew or anything?”

  “Green tea would be good. Thanks.”

  Eddie nodded. Gestured for Kelly to take a seat. Moved the slightly sticky pornographic magazines folded to photographs of blonde, twenty-something-year-old women—all a little reminiscent of Kelly—and threw them under the sofa.

  Kelly noticed his every move. Fuck it. What did he care anymore?

  “Your place is looking nice,” she said.

  Eddie hit the kettle. Waited beside it. Stared at it. Anywhere but Kelly. “It’s missing a few essentials, but it’ll do.”

  “Essentials?”

  “A Nintendo Switch, mainly. I was after one before the world went to shit and couldn’t get hold of one. Still haven’t found one yet.”

  Kelly laughed. “Good to hear you’ve got your priorities straight.”

  Eddie poured the water. Stared at the steam rising from it as that bitter smell of tea he didn’t really like filled his nostrils.

  He walked over to Kelly. Handed her the brew. Then stood there, awkwardly, wondering whether to sit, what this was all about. Probably just come to break the news to him. To clear the air about Anwar.

  So he figured he’d break the awkwardness himself.

  “Look. I wasn’t trying to be a peacock. You’ve probably figured that out by now. I had those flowers to—”

  “I need to tell you something,” Kelly said.

  Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, okay?”

  Kelly sipped her brew. Stared into space, and then to Eddie’s face. Interchanged between the two. Like her focus was waning. “I had a test. And I… I tested positive.”

  Eddie felt his guts turn inside out.

  His world collapsed.

  “Positive? So… so you—”

  “And it’s yours. The timing. It has to be. It can only be.”

  Eddie frowned. His? His what? Virus? Trojan? He’d given it her? He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand.

  “I don’t mean to be cold,” Eddie said. “But should you really be wandering around sleeping with attractive Asian blokes and then sipping green teas in other people’s houses when you’re infected?”

  Kelly frowned. “Infected? No. No, Eddie. I…”

  She cleared her throat. Put her brew down. Stood up. Walked over to him. Looked right into his eyes.

  “I’m pregnant, Eddie. I’m pregnant. And the baby’s yours.”

  Chapter Seven

  Noah watched Malcom eat a kebab from a metal skewer and wondered when he was going to reach across the table and bury it into his eyes.

  The late morning sun beamed in through Malcom’s large office windows. They were perched open, a gentle breeze creeping inside, sending shivers up Noah’s arms. Or maybe that’s just because he was shitting himself. ’Cause Malcom wouldn’t ask him aside for no reason. Nope. There was only one damned reason why he’d be here.

  Malcom knew about him and Jane last night.

  And he was going to boil him alive for it.

  “Why don’t you help yourself?” Malcom said.

  “Huh?”

  Malcom held out a hand to the plate of kebabs before him. Rat, probably. But that wasn’t a problem. They were used to rat by now. Actually pretty tasty, once you broke through the connotations. “Plenty to go around. Tuck in. You look like you could do with a hangover cure.”

  Noah shook his head. His stomach churned with sickness more than hunger, now. Those smells of cooked flesh made him want to hurl. His head banged. Sweat trickled down his forehead. He just wanted to go back to bed and sleep the day away.

  But he knew he wasn’t getting away that easily.

  “I’m good. Really.”

  Malcom shrugged. “Well, suit yourself.”

  He tucked into another bite of that kebab. He had this bright grey hair and beard, which contrasted his brown, leathery skin. Definitely a handsome guy. Hard to put an age on him, but Noah knew he was in his forties. He had a charm about him. A presence. Kind of like a George Clooney vibe about him. Handsome. Turned heads just through his sheer presence and character.

  But he was also not a man to mess with, either. He led this place with grace. And with an iron fist.

  He was ex-military. He’d set this place up along with a few of his old friends from the barracks. He was determined to create some kind of safe space for the uninfected. A new society. And then, eventually, when they expanded enough, they could start reaching out to the outside world. Sharing skills. Trading food. Beginning and restarting something wider, all over again.

  It was going to be tough. Breaking out of factions and towards something like globalisation wasn’t going to be easy, especially when it was globalisation that’d ultimately caused Trojan to spread like it had.

  But it was an ambition of Malcom’s. And anyone would be a fool to stand against his ambitions.

  “So, you probably know why you’re here.”

  Fuck. Get it over with. Roast me alive, Malcom. Stick me on a stake and throw tomatoes and darts at me and make me call you Daddy while the whole damned town watches.

  “I mean, I can guess,” Noah said.

  “Your birthday. I wanted to wish you a happy one. Hear you had quite a night last night!”

  Noah frowned. Saw Malcom sitting there, smiling. He wasn’t sure whether Malcom was fucking with him or not. His cheeks were on fire. He tried to stay present. Didn’t want to say anything more than he had to. “I, erm… thanks. It was alright.”

  “‘Alright’. Heard you were pissed up to your eyeballs. But so you should be. We’re only young once, right? Or, well. In your case, quarter-life crisis age. Either way, good excuse for a beer or seven.”

  Noah smiled back. He started to feel a bit more at ease. Malcom didn’t seem remotely bothered or in the know about what happened last night. Or to have any idea what happened with Jane. He started to feel more confident. Mor
e assured. “Well, thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “Look,” Malcom said. “I won’t lie. The last thing I want to do is drop you more responsibilities on your birthday. But the truth is I’ve got a few concerns. If I could delay them, I would. But it’s not the kind of thing I can really delay much longer.”

  Oh shit. Here goes.

  “What concerns?”

  “I think there’s something going on out there,” Malcom said. “On our investigation runs. Something… something just isn’t right.”

  Noah frowned. He wasn’t expecting that. “Investigation runs?”

  “Two weeks ago, a group of four went out on the usual scanning missions. Trying to gather supplies. Also trying to find people to bring here who can help. They went missing. Totally off the radar. Now, I didn’t want to tell anyone ’cause I didn’t want to cause panic. But we sent another group out to search for them. Three people. Heavies. The kind who don’t mix. Guys I was in the military with. Guys I trust. Only one came back. And they said they saw something out there.”

  “What did they see?”

  “The old group. Said they were attacked by them, over by that butterfly house in Lancaster. They were infected. Dead. And they weren’t alone.”

  The hairs on Noah’s arms stood on end.

  “And that’s not all. The guy who came back? He turned. He was infected. We had no choice but to put him out of his misery.”

  Noah’s skin went cold. The horror returning. Reality creeping up, stealthily, out of the shadows.

  “We haven’t been attacked in weeks,” Malcom said. “And I’m starting to think… maybe this virus knows that. Maybe the infected know about us. It’s intelligent, after all. It evolves in amazing ways. We know that. Maybe it really is working like a Trojan Horse right now. Trying to creep in. Silently.”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  Malcom sighed. “To be honest, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Probably because I trust you. And probably because you’ve had more experience out there on the road than anyone. But I… Look, Noah. I won’t beat around the bush. I want you to go out there. And I want you to come back here with your findings. I can’t afford to lose any more heavies. None of us can. And don’t think I’m, like, sending you to your death or whatever. But it has to be a civilian. And it has to be someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone I can trust. Do you understand?”