Surviving The Virus (Book 4): Extinction Read online

  Noah felt a wave of emotions. Guilt on the one hand that Malcom actually trusted him. But also fear. He didn’t want to show it, but he didn’t want to go out there. He did feel like a troop being sent to his death.

  But what else could he say?

  “I’m sorry,” Malcom said. “I know this isn’t exactly a happy birthday. But really. I’d appreciate it. All of us would appreciate it. You don’t have to answer right away. Take time to think about it and get back to me. But I think you’re a tough guy, and I think you’re a smart guy. Loyal, too. And that might just help us out here. More than anything.”

  Noah nodded. He stood up. Half-smiled at Malcom. Part-relieved he’d avoided a grilling. Part-terrified at what’d just been proposed. “I’ll get back to you.”

  “Good,” Malcom said. “Anyway. You get to work. I’ve got a few kebabs to finish off here.”

  Noah smiled. Turned around. Started to walk towards Malcom’s door.

  “And Noah?”

  Noah stopped. Looked back.

  Malcom stared at him with wide, piercing blue eyes. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

  “Don’t fuck around with my daughter, or I’ll make sure you regret it,” he said.

  Chapter Eight

  Eddie opened the door and saw Noah standing there.

  “Thanks for coming,” Eddie said.

  Noah shrugged. Stepped in from out of the late afternoon sun. It’d gone a little cloudy, a little cool. “It’s cool. You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Eddie said, lying. Still in a haze after earlier. Still not quite sure what to think. “I, um… Can I get you anything?”

  Noah just shrugged again. He’d got in a bit of a habit of acting like this. He never used to be short of words, especially to Eddie. But since they’d got here, he’d grown more distant. More withdrawn. Like he didn’t want anyone seeing his emotions. Like they would weaken him, or something.

  Well, hell. Eddie was going to drop a bombshell on him, and he was going to show a few damned emotions, that was for sure.

  “I’m fine,” Noah said.

  “Sure? I can get you a drink.”

  “Alcohol isn’t a good idea right now. You… you okay?”

  Eddie smirked, ignoring Noah’s question. “Still sore from last night?”

  “Something like that. Have a good one?”

  Eddie shrugged. “Yeah. It was fun. Don’t remember much of it myself. I think I smoked some bad weed. Threw up a bit. But hey. It was fun. Happy birthday, anyway.”

  Noah smiled back at him. Raised his eyebrows. “Thanks.”

  And this was how it was between them, right now. Forced. Not natural, like it used to be. A sense that things had changed between them. The dynamic had really shifted. The shared memories that should’ve brought them closer but had only made things painful between them, instead. Strained between them.

  And the more Eddie thought back, the more he started to realise how much he’d romanticised his and Noah’s friendship. Truth be told, things weren’t perfect before the outbreak. He was a bit of a slacker. Noah got pissed off at him. They didn’t really do the normal stuff mates did. Not like they used to when they were younger.

  It was hard because as much of a loser as Noah had been, Eddie was far more of a loser.

  It’d taken a global catastrophe to put them level-pegging again.

  But now they were settled again… well, it felt like things had returned to normal.

  People liked Noah. They respected him, even if he kept a low profile, kept himself to himself.

  People didn’t like Eddie as much.

  And it pissed him off.

  It always had pissed him off.

  Live together; die together.

  So much for that bullshit.

  No. Fuck those thoughts, Eddie. Fuck them. He’s your best mate. Mates don’t always get along. He’d always stood by your side. He’d always been here for you. Don’t get erratic. Keep it together. Keep it fucking together.

  “Your place,” Noah said, looking around half-heartedly. “It’s looking nice.”

  “Yeah. Thanks. You don’t come round much anymore.”

  “I don’t go anywhere really.”

  “Just sit at home?”

  “Something like that.”

  Eddie nodded. Walked over to the kitchen, poured himself a small glass of whisky.

  “How long ago did you take up whisky?” Noah asked.

  “About… eleven this morning?”

  “What happened at eleven this morning?”

  Eddie puffed out his lips. “I hear you and Jane are an item now.”

  Noah’s cheeks flushed, and his eyes widened. “Who told you that?”

  “Everyone knows,” Eddie said, plonking himself down on the sofa. “Talk of the town. Bet Malcom’s delighted.”

  Noah sighed. Sat down on the chair opposite Eddie, covered his face with his hands. “Nothing happened. We’re not an item. She just…”

  “Came back to your flat. It’s cool. I believe you. You’re not the one-night stand sort of guy. Not like me.”

  Noah frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Eddie sipped back the whisky. It burned his mouth. Tasted like shit. “Remember a couple of months ago? When you were locked in that psycho’s concentration camp?”

  “Well I’ve not exactly forgotten it.”

  “Well. I told you something happened between me and Kelly.”

  “Still obsessed with her then?”

  Eddie squinted. “I’m not obsessed.”

  “Course you are. Doesn’t take a genius to see it.”

  “Well, anyway,” Eddie said, eager to shift the trajectory of the conversation. “Yeah. We slept together.”

  “I knew that anyway—”

  “Kelly’s pregnant.”

  Noah looked like he might spit his drink out, if he had a drink.

  “P—pregnant?”

  “Pregnant, yes. As in, carrying a child. And that child happens to be mine.”

  Noah was silent. He looked shocked. Pale. Not what Eddie wanted to see. He wanted some kind of reassurance from his best mate. Some kind of moral support.

  But this…

  Shit. It just frightened him even more.

  “And it’s yours?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “And Kelly’s sure?”

  “She wasn’t shagging anyone else two months ago,” Eddie said. “Unless something happened in that psychoville.”

  Noah shook his head. “A lot of weird shit went down there. But I’m pretty sure rape wasn’t one of them.”

  “Well that’s a small comfort, right?”

  “So what are you going to do?” Noah asked.

  “What?”

  “About the baby. What’re you going to do about it?”

  “I mean, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead yet. I’m just about coming to terms with the fact I’m not actually a virgin anymore. That I’m about to be a father. And that the woman I’m in love with is…”

  He stopped, then. The damned drink. It was making him say things he didn’t want to admit. Things he regretted.

  “You should just tell her,” Noah said.

  “Tell her what?”

  “You just said right now you’re in love with her. That’s heavy shit, Eddie. Real heavy shit. Tell her how you feel. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m serious. She slept with you. There must be something there.”

  “She… she used me. She was stressed after everything that’d happened. And she felt sorry for me. That’s all it was. Nothing’s going to happen. Nothing’s ever going to happen. So what use is me making myself even more pathetic and spilling my heart out to her?”

  Noah sighed. “You need to be more open with how you feel.”

  “You’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

  Noah frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Eddie shook his head. “Sor
ry. I didn’t mean—”

  “No, go on. What’re you saying?”

  Eddie didn’t want to elaborate. But he was in too deep now. “You preach about opening up. About expressing yourself, or whatever. But you close yourself off more and more every day. I haven’t seen you laugh for two months. I haven’t seen you properly smile for two months. And I haven’t… I haven’t seen you cry. I haven’t seen anything. No grief. No pain. Nothing. And I’m worried about you, mate. I’m worried you’re not as… you’re not as okay as you think you are. As you say you are.”

  Noah sat there. Silent. Stoic. Staring.

  For a moment, Eddie swore he saw a crack of emotion under his eyes. Anger? Sadness? Too brief to tell.

  “You know,” Noah said. “What you said. About Kelly ‘using’ you.”

  Eddie frowned. “What does that have to do with what I just said?”

  “This isn’t going to be another Anita, is it?”

  Eddie felt his cheeks flush right away. “Don’t mention Anita. You know we agreed on that.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry. But…”

  He didn’t continue. Eddie didn’t want to think of Anita. It seemed like a relic, in all truth. A girl he’d met a few years back. They got along well. She liked him, Noah said.

  Only Eddie got… well. He got a bit creepy.

  Started getting paranoid she was seeing someone else. Even though he had no damned right to feel that way, ’cause it wasn’t like the pair of them were an item or anything near it. They just chatted. That was it.

  But he couldn’t help himself. He started turning up outside her house. Watching and waiting to see she was where she really said she was.

  Until in the end, Anita just got fed up with him and told him to leave her alone, to stop stalking her.

  Right as Noah met Jasmine and they fell into each other’s arms so damned smoothly.

  He’d regressed even more then. Fallen into online seduction advice forums. Only they filled his head with unhealthy ideas about women, why they didn’t want him, all the ways he was wrong.

  And he’d believed them.

  He’d believed every word.

  “I’m just saying,” Noah said. “Don’t screw things up with Kelly because you think you have to be something you aren’t. Just… be yourself, mate. Yourself is a good guy.”

  And then Noah stood up.

  He brushed down his grey T-shirt.

  “It’s been nice seeing you,” Noah said. “But I’ve got something to do. Don’t worry about the whole fatherhood thing. You’re the most caring guy I’ve ever met. You’ll be a natural.”

  And then he turned around and walked off.

  Didn’t say another word.

  Just walked over towards Eddie’s front door, leaving him alone in there, alone with his thoughts, alone with his damned awful whisky.

  “Be careful, mate,” Eddie called.

  He heard Noah’s footsteps stop. Right by the door.

  Heard a sigh.

  “You be careful, too.”

  And then he heard the door open and close again.

  He sipped back the whisky and tried not to vomit as visions of a fat baby Eddie crawled around the lounge.

  Chapter Nine

  Noah hadn’t been outside the walls of the community for five minutes, and already he felt a crippling urge to get back home.

  So, he’d agreed to Malcom’s “invitation,” which he was pretty sure was a demand disguised as an invitation anyway. It was late. The sun was setting. A gorgeous orange glow beamed over the horizon. He could see the silhouetted outline of Williamson Park up ahead, towering over the rest of Lancaster. The butterfly house he used to visit with his grandparents as a kid. He used to be afraid of the butterflies. Never used to like the feel of them landing on him. Their wings brushing against his face. He used to run over to the water sections, where the terrapins swam by. He remembered reaching his hand in there once ’cause they looked so friendly. Only he missed the sign that said they were aggressive, prone to biting.

  He remembered feeling a butterfly land on his neck. Spinning around, hand still dangling into the water.

  And then the next thing, a sharp pain around his fingers, making him scream.

  Never been back to that butterfly house since.

  He wondered how the terrapins were getting by.

  He looked ahead at the long, narrow streets. Empty. Void of life. A park to his right. Abandoned bicycles and skateboards. Shops shuttered, graffiti sprayed across them. No signs of life here. Silence. Total silence.

  But not solitude. Solitude was different. Solitude was peaceful.

  This was terrifying.

  He held on to his pistol. He’d come out here on Malcom’s orders to investigate the missing group of guards. Was pretty sure Malcom sent him out here to punish him for sleeping—no, fuck, he hadn’t slept with Jane!—with his daughter.

  But then there was the story about one of those guards testing infected. The one who returned.

  Fears of some kind of evolution of the virus.

  Trojan living up to its name.

  And Noah couldn’t help wondering just how much it was to do with him.

  He thought about Dr Jenkinson, as he walked down these empty, derelict streets. What he’d told him. He was special. He was different. He was immune. There was no way he could catch the virus.

  And in Dr Jenkinson’s opinion, that made him valuable. A prize.

  Because it meant that Noah was a threat to Trojan itself.

  And in Dr Jenkinson’s opinion… the infected knew that, too.

  Noah shook his head at the thought. It was just speculation. There was no knowing, not for certain. He’d claimed Kelly was a carrier too and would start infecting people left, right, and centre. But that didn’t look like it was happening, so who knows what else he might’ve been wrong about?

  He just had to focus on the task at hand.

  Reaching that butterfly house, where the guard claimed he’d seen something.

  And then getting the fuck back to Galgate as quickly as he possibly could.

  He found his thoughts drifting to Eddie as he walked. He’d wanted to tell him about his planned journey, but he decided against it. Especially with Eddie having a baby on his mind.

  But he mostly thought about what Eddie said about how cold he’d grown. How withdrawn he was getting. Noah hadn’t really thought about it like that. He hadn’t really considered it, as awful as that might sound. Sure, he supposed he’d grown a bit distant from Eddie. But he was busy. They were both busy. They had their own places. Their own lives.

  Even if Noah’s “own life” mostly consisted of sitting in his home, alone, drinking.

  And then passing out and being vaguely aware of his emotions, his grief, all of it spilling out like the beer from the half-drank bottles, all over his wooden floor.

  He climbed further up the hill. Past a few abandoned cars. A smell hit him right away. A sour smell. A smell he was familiar with. But a smell that always got his hackles raised.

  The smell of decay.

  He looked around for the body. Had to be somewhere close. No chance a stench like that came from anywhere too far away.

  He lifted the pistol, just in case. He had to be on guard. Had to be prepared.

  And then he saw them in the car beside him.

  A man. Thin. Dishevelled. Looked like his hair was falling out in thick clumps.

  He lay back, eyes closed. Flies buzzing around him. Moisture sucked out of his face. Eyes rolled back into his skull. Totally still.

  Noah kept his pistol raised, heart thumping. He knew he had to be careful, especially with the recently deceased. There was a good chance this guy could come back. Spark back to life. Best thing he could do was put a bullet in his head and be done with it.

  But the silence. That terrifying silence.

  He didn’t want to make a sound.

  Didn’t want to bring any attention to himself.

  Any.
/>   So he lowered his pistol and kept on climbing that hilly road.

  He got further up the hill. Saw the butterfly house up ahead. Thought of the terrapins. Thought of the splitting pain cutting through his fingertips. Thought of the blood seeping through the water. The shock. The tears. Grandad telling him off for being so stupid. One of the butterfly house staff bandaging his hand, offering him sickly sweet biscuits.

  He thought of all of it, and then he stepped out of the trees and saw the butterfly house and Williamson Park in full view.

  He smiled when he saw it. The play area he and his cousin used to always play at. The woods, where they used to terrorise people. The steps they’d run up and down, up and down. Good memories.

  He looked around. Silent. Just the breeze. He didn’t see a thing.

  And he felt torn. Part of him wanted to walk towards that butterfly house. Part of him wanted to see for himself. To be certain.

  But he just had a bad feeling.

  He couldn’t describe it. Almost like two magnets pressing against each other, resisting each other.

  A forcefield, stopping him walking further, stopping him progressing, as much as he wanted to.

  But fuck it. It was getting dark. The sun was setting. He needed to get back. Fast.

  “Fuck you, Malcom,” he said. “Fuck you for this.”

  He turned around and stopped.

  He hadn’t noticed them at first.

  Just lightly. Just in the corner of his eyes.

  But they were there.

  And they made every hair on his body stand on end.

  Every muscle in his body turn to stone.

  Because all around him, everywhere, lying low, staying quiet, Noah saw figures.

  He saw eyes.

  Staring.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Chapter Ten

  “Well, shit. That’s, um. That’s a development.”

  And those were the seven words Anwar had to say about Kelly’s pregnancy bombshell. Wide, glazed eyes. A dramatically paling face. A melodramatic walk across the room, and then a collapsing to the sofa. What the hell was it with men and their reactions? Fuck, did none of them think this might be a pretty fucking big deal for Kelly, too? She was the one who had to carry this baby. She was the one who was going to have to squeeze it out of her vag. She was the one who was going to have to raise it. And what’s more, all in a world where literally everything screamed against raising a kid, too.