Infection Z (Book 4) (15 page)

H
ayden walked ahead
of Miriam and Sam, away from the wall.

The sun was getting lower. A slight chill was building in the air, more reminiscent of winter rather than the late spring it actually was. But it didn’t really affect Hayden. Not really. He was aware of it, but only in the back of his mind.

Because all he could think about was the wall.

All he could think about was the scene he’d discovered when he’d reached it. The dead bodies. The dead dog.

All he could think about was the words.

Carriers of the virus…

He looked ahead at the long road. It stretched into the distance; abandoned cars piled up in the middle, fields either side. The only sounds Hayden was aware of were footsteps; his own footsteps, the rest of his group’s footsteps. Well. Hardly a group anymore. Not the best name for it.

The trio.

Because that’s all that was left.

That’s all that remained.

He felt a tightening in his stomach whenever the memory of the wall guard’s words entered his mind. Because it reminded him of everything that’d happened. All the people who had died around him. He’d suspected the virus was airborne. Suspected it for quite some time.

But a carrier…

Someone who carried the virus but didn’t turn.

Why hadn’t he considered that?

If that was true—which it was—then didn’t the people behind the wall have a point?

They didn’t want carriers amongst their masses. They didn’t want the virus beyond their walls.

The expulsion of the few to save the many. It made sense. It added up.

“We heading anywhere in particular or are you just gonna mope all day?”

Hayden heard Miriam’s words. She seemed… calm. Unaffected. Which he couldn’t understand. She’d been the one to bring him here. She’d been so convinced that the wall was where they needed to be; the place they needed to reach to secure their safety. But she’d barely said a word. Just walked behind Hayden, holding little Sam’s hand.

Sam was quiet. Wide-eyed. Confused.

“Hayden. I’m speaking to you.”

“I guess we find some place to rest.”

“So we’re just giving up?”

Hayden shrugged. “I don’t see what else we can do. You heard what he said. We’re carriers.”

“We don’t know that’s—”

“A little boy turned out of the blue a few weeks back. A little boy in a group of mine. No bites. Nothing like that. And then he passed it on to his mother. Again, no bites.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“It adds up,” Hayden said. “You might want to try denying it but you can’t. It’s the truth. I dunno about you, and I dunno about Sam but… but I’m a carrier. I’m a carrier, Miriam.”

Hayden felt strange muttering the words. Brought a sour taste to his mouth. He was a carrier. That’s who he was. That’s what he’d become. That was his place in this world.

“So say you are a carrier. You’re probably gonna want to try and get away from other people. Aren’t you?”

Hayden swallowed a lump in his throat. Looked past Miriam, back down the road they’d walked along. “It’d be best if—”

“Just listen to yourself. Listen to yourself making excuses again.”

“It’s a valid excuse.”

“It’s a bullshit excuse. One you can hide behind to keep yourself away from other people. To shy away from responsibility. From leadership. Which is just what you’ve wanted all along really. Isn’t it?”

Hayden shook his head. “That’s not fair.”

“This world isn’t fucking fair. Nothing about it’s ‘fair’. ‘Fair’ went out the fucking window when people started chewing each other. When they stuck their teeth into other people’s necks and spread a fucking monstrous virus.”

Hayden glanced at Sam. He didn’t seem fazed by Miriam’s language. He supposed he’d heard and seen plenty worse since the world collapsed.

“So go on,” Miriam said, holding Sam’s hand. “Be honest with yourself. Be honest with us. Do you want to walk away? Do you want to be alone? Because remember, I gave you a choice. I gave you a choice back at the prison after you helped us. I gave you a choice at the barn. A choice that you took, then came on running back when it suited you.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Do you want to be alone, Hayden? Because if it is, then you walk the fuck away. Because you’re not safe to be with. Not because you’re some ‘carrier’ or whatever bullshit they spouted behind the wall. But because you aren’t
with
us. Not really.”

Miriam’s words echoed around Hayden’s head. He met her watery eyes. Then Sam’s wide eyes. His heart pounded. He had to be honest. He had to tell the truth. Open up.

He opened his mouth. Got ready to say the words.

I’m not coming with you.

It’s better if we go our separate ways.

I’m trouble…

But instead, Hayden found himself closing his mouth. Licking his lips. Swallowing.

“I’m with you,” he said.

“You what? Speak up a little.”

“I’m with you.”

He looked Miriam in her bloodshot eyes.

She nodded. “Good. You better be. Because we didn’t lose our people for nothing. Anthony didn’t get shot for nothing.”

Hayden turned away. Started walking down the road again, still heading away from the wall. He wasn’t sure where they were going. Wasn’t sure what Miriam was planning.

Just that they couldn’t give up on the wall.

It’d probably end up getting them killed, but they couldn’t give up on it.

He took a few steps when a thought tightened its grip on his mind.

”Anthony didn’t get shot for nothing.”

He stopped. Heart picking up. Eyes narrowing. Not really looking
at
anything in particular. But thinking. Just thinking.

“Hayden?”

“Anthony didn’t get shot for nothing…”

He remembered the way Anthony turned after getting shot.

The way he attacked his wife.

He remembered the way Bob turned.

Bob, who had the mark on his arm. The flared-up mark from the injection.

He remembered these two incidents and his head started to spin.

“Hayden? What’s wrong?”

Little Tim. Where did Little Tim fall into the equation?

Fuck, did it matter?

All that mattered is what he realised.

All that mattered is what he now understood.

He turned around. Looked at Miriam, then at Sam.

“I think I know what’s happening,” Hayden said. “And I think I know how we can use it.”

“Use… use what? For what?”

“To get inside the wall. To get to safety.”

T
errance Schumer stood
outside the fences of the walls staring at the mess.

He didn’t come out here often. Especially not at sunset. Didn’t like the risk that came with it. But Luis and his advisers had been very specific and very demanding when they told him they needed him here tonight. That they wanted him to see the extents they’d had to go to in order to keep peace outside the walls, to keep peace within the walls.

And now, standing right here, he wished he hadn’t bothered leaving the safe confines of his top storey apartment block at all.

The sun was low in the pinky, orange sky, but the scene in front of Terrance was clear. He could see the bodies. Still bodies of men. Of women. Of children. Of a dog, even. He could see the bloodied gunshot wounds in their heads. He could see the look in their eyes. The look of fading hope.

They must’ve known. They must’ve known what was happening to them as they approached the walls, the fences.

They must’ve known they were about to die right before it happened.

“Not what we wanted to do, sir. Wanted to keep it cleaner. But they found a weakness in the wall. Had to do what we had to do.”

Terrance glanced to his left. A man called Daniel stood there, rifle in hand, white mask over his mouth muffling his speech. A white mask just like the one Terrance wore. Just in case. Just in case the airborne virus spread.

That’s the line they were going with.

That’s the approach they were taking.

Terrance looked back at the dead. His heart sunk every time he saw the little blonde girl holding her teddy bear, clinging it tightly. Because of all the people—all the sweat-soaked, urine-stenching people—she was the one who had the most hope in her eyes. Hope that she’d find refuge beyond the wall. Refuge beyond the fences.

Refuge in New Britain.

You let these people down. You failed them.

He nodded. Sighed. “You did what you had to do. Like you say.”

Terrance turned around, back towards the long, dark tunnel.

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking. What’re we going to do about inside?”

Terrance stopped. Looked back at Daniel. “What about inside?”

Luis lowered his head. Glanced back up at Terrance. “People. Citizens. They’re… they’re taking the crisis into their own hands. Forcing people—migrants—out of their homes. Killing them in the streets. I respect that we need to control the virus, especially if it’s airborne and especially if migrants from outside are carrying it, but… but surely there’s a better way?”

Terrance heard the screams from his city. His beautiful city. The scream of another migrant who’d found refuge there. A migrant who’d been willingly taken in. Taken in by a family with open arms.

Now stabbed to death.

Stabbed in the street.

Burned, to reduce the chance of the airborne virus spreading.

And Terrance felt a sense of guilt. Felt an immense sense of guilt for what events had come to. For the way in which the truth had forced his hand.

But ultimately, what mattered more than anything were the lives of the many.

What mattered were the lives of his people beyond the wall. They were the ones he’d sworn to protect.

And the numbers from outside were just overcrowding the place. Stuffing it with… well, undesirables. People who he hadn’t been charged with protecting. People from outside. Foreigners, some of them feral, some of them too adapted to this horrible new world outside the fences.

“If you find a better way, tell me,” Terrance said.

He walked back down the tunnel. Back towards his city.

“Until then, you… you keep the people aware. Keep them aware of the threat from outside. The threat from within as long as the migrants are amongst our people.”

“Respectfully,” Daniel said. “We—we haven’t seen any evidence of airborne spread. Not within. Not yet.”

Terrance stopped. Bitter taste in his mouth.

He looked back at Daniel. He’d pulled the white mask from his mouth now. Breathing the cool night air freely.

“No,” Terrance said. “No, you’re absolutely right.”

He nodded at Luis, who stood behind Daniel.

Luis lifted a pistol.

Shot Daniel in the back.

Shot him three times.

Daniel’s eyes widened. His skin went instantly pale. The remaining three guards looked on, horrified, bewildered, as Daniel fell to his knees.

“We haven’t,” Terrance Schumer said, walking over to Daniel, crouching over his spluttering body. “But we will. All of us will.”

He felt a sense of regret building inside him once more.

Felt it intensifying as Daniel struggled on in the final moments of his existence.

He watched the dark blood drool out of the three bullet wounds on his back.

Waited.

“We’ll all see it for ourselves. Very soon.”

He put a hand on the back of Daniel’s head.

Stroked it.

Then he stood up.

Walked back down the tunnel.

Back beyond the wall.

Back to security.

Behind, he heard the struggle as Luis ordered the other guards to lift Daniel’s body.

He sensed the delayed panic. The confusion.

But he knew he’d done the right thing.

He knew he’d done what he had to do.

He was a leader. He was responsible for saving the many.

If that meant getting rid of the few to achieve his cause, so be it.

As the sun set, Terrance Schumer prepared for a long night.

But he knew the world would be a much better place the following morning.

He knew everyone would be much safer from the outsiders.

He knew he was doing the right thing for humanity.

G
arth Cooley enjoyed
his nights at the wheel way more than he should do.

He pressed his foot on the gas. Stared out at the darkness. There was something about the dark that eased him. Something that settled him. And he knew it was mad. Knew he was crazy for thinking that way. The dark was dangerous. Shit hid in the dark. He knew that. He was aware of that.

But there was something about
not
being able to see what was in the distance that calmed him, too. Something about driving down these abandoned roads, no light but the moon and the stars, his headlights, that made him feel alive again.

It took him back to his lorry runs. Damn them, he used to hate his lorry runs back in the old days.

But now, in this world, he realised how good he had it. How lucky he was being a member of the new society. The society behind the fences.

Just a pity his job was to round people up to escort away from their new world.

It was cool in the truck. Didn’t turn the heater on though. Didn’t want to run the battery down. Not that the world was short of spare batteries—just he’d always been funny about wasting things. Food. Water. Old clothes. Always found a use for them. Always found a way to conserve them, right to the very end.

He glanced at his TAG watch. Remarkably, he hadn’t looted it. One of the few items he’d held on to. Special to him. His daughter, Alison, bought it for him before she moved to Vietnam with that Asian chap, Kao. Gave up all her money, her top job at an insurance firm, everything, all to live some life in the middle of the Laos wilderness.

He didn’t hear from her anymore. Obviously not anymore—nobody heard from anyone overseas. But he hadn’t heard from her for five years before that point either.

He hoped to God she was okay. Hoped to God she’d stuck to the wilderness. Hoped to God Kao kept her happy, kept her safe.

He looked around the front seats of the truck. Empty. He was often alone these days. Not that he minded—he preferred being alone to spending hours in this shitty vehicle with a meathead, that was for sure.

But he couldn’t help but long for some kind of connection. Some kind of truthful,
real
involvement with another human being.

He couldn’t help but crave some normality.

He sniffed up. Caught a whiff of the minty air freshener, which was going off. Better smelling that than the sweat from the back. From the refugees he’d picked up. Terrance Schumer and the bulk of the people behind the fences preferred it if they were referred to as “migrants,” but by Garth’s definition, they were people fleeing war. People just looking for some safety. Just looking for a fresh start away from all this bullshit on the outside.

In the early days, there had been more leniency. There had been cases of helping the refugees beyond the fences. Smuggling them in. Hiding them in homes.

But gradually, those acts of kindness slipped away.

Reached bursting point.

And now that the news of the virus going airborne was common knowledge—the news that people on the outside with increased exposure were likely to be carriers—there was no room for sympathy or leniency, not anymore.

Garth kept on driving along the darkened road. He kept on looking for people. Signs of life. People he was tasked with taking away from the fences. Taking to one of the other stations set up across the country. A place within the chaos where they could be safe, happy.

Better for them that they didn’t reach the fences. Not with the way the people within treated the people outside anymore.

A bitter taste filled his mouth as he flashed back to earlier that evening. A guard, Daniel. A guard he’d been good friends with. One of the decent ones. He’d walked back through the tunnel bleeding out from a gunshot. He’d been taken into the hospital area… and then he’d turned. Just turned, out of nowhere.

The bulk of the main city saw it. Saw him lunge at Doctor Parmer. Saw him rip away his throat.

All without a bite mark on Daniel’s skin. All without being bitten.

Proof that the virus was airborne.

Proof that they needed to act against it.

Garth tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Accelerated further away from the wall, into the darkness.

He wasn’t sure what was happening. Wasn’t sure when it was all going to come to a head; when it was all going to end.

But he knew he just had to keep on doing his job.

Because he was helping people.

Helping people find a better life.

Helping them survive.

He saw a flash in the distance.

He put his foot on the brake. Slowed down. Heard the rubber tyres screeching against the tarmac.

He switched off his lights. Submerged in total blackness.

He’d seen something. Seen a flicker of light up ahead.

Something was out there. Something was waiting.

He stared at the spot where he’d seen the flash. All he could see was darkness. He didn’t want to alarm whoever—whatever—it was. He’d turned his lights off to see whether it really was a light. A torch. A headlight. Whatever.

But nothing was there.

Nothing but darkness.

Garth rubbed at his stinging eyes. Maybe he was imagining things. Maybe he was just tired and needed some rest. He’d been awake since three a.m. A good solid twenty-one hours wide awake. Mind playing tricks on him. Eyes screwing with him like they so often had since he’d lost everything.

There was no flash.

Nothing in the road.

Nothing up ahead.

He looked back up into the darkness.

Took a deep breath, caught a whiff of his own sweat.

He flicked on the headlights.

Someone was standing there.

He couldn’t believe it at first. Couldn’t wrap his head around it. But there was no doubt. No denying it.

A little boy.

A little boy with curly brown hair and a purple cardigan.

Garth frowned. He muttered something to himself under his breath, but he wasn’t sure what.

He pulled the handbrake. Grabbed the passenger door. Opened it up. What the hell was a little boy doing out here alone in the middle of the night? What the hell was…

When he landed on the road, he realised his mistake right away.

He felt something press into the back of his head.

Heard a click.

And then a woman’s voice.

“Give me your keys and get in the back. Now.”