Infection Z (Book 4) (16 page)

M
aya Harper thought
she had a new family when the Jones’ let her into their home.

She lay on the side of the road. Her head hurt. Her throat was sore. She could taste nothing but dirt and the metallic tang of blood on her lips. She didn’t know what to do but lie there and cry. Didn’t know what to think.

Just that she’d lived with the Jones’ for weeks and they’d been so nice to her.

They’d taken her in when her mum and dad went away and made her feel welcome.

And now she was out here, in the streets, bleeding.

She lifted her aching neck. Looked at the empty streets. It was dark, but she knew there were people around. People around like her. Only the people like her—the ones who’d come from the other side—were mostly dead. They hadn’t made it.

She knew she didn’t have long left. Not out here. Not as one of
them
. Not as an outsider.

She’d heard the rumours. She was only thirteen, but she was old enough to understand the rumours. The rumours about the infection spreading. The rumours about it going from person to person without bites. But she didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know what to believe. Dan Jones told her she was infected so to get out his parents’ home, but Maya didn’t feel infected, so she wasn’t sure about anything.

Only that Dan, the oldest of three Jones brothers, kicked her out the house.

Actually kicked her out.

Threw her into the road.

Told her to stay well away from his family. Not to come near ever again. ’Cause his mum was sick. His mum was sick and it was Maya’s fault. All Maya’s fault.

She expected one of the other family members to come out of the house. To come out to help her. Maybe Pete, the middle brother, who was always friendly with her, always wanted to joke around and laugh. Or maybe Mr Jones. He was serious, but he looked out for Maya. She knew he’d never hurt her. Knew he’d never abandon her.

But none of them came out the house.

None of them.

People just watched from behind their partly closed curtains at the events outside.

White masks covering their faces.

Fear in their eyes.

And Maya wondered what she’d done wrong to deserve this… this treatment.

She heard gunfire. Heard it up the road, up ahead. Looked up, neck still stiff, vision still blurred.

She saw a man holding a gun. A man in black. Wearing a thicker mask than the rest of the people.

He was firing bullets into the heads of the fallen people.

The fallen people like her.

And then a man beside him—a man dressed in a thick white outfit wearing scary goggles and an old World War style mask—shot flames out of a gun at the fallen bodies.

She watched the fire illuminate the darkness. Listened to the flames crackle. Smelled the charred, burning flesh drifting towards her.

She knew she had to get away.

She knew she had to hide.

But there was nowhere to get away to.

Nowhere to hide.

She tried to crawl along the road but her legs were sore, stiff, aching from where Dan Jones tripped her. She stuck her hands into the gravel. Dragged herself further along the road. The gunshots got louder. The smokiness from the burning bodies closer.

As they got closer, Maya couldn’t help thinking back to the time she’d said goodbye to her mum and dad. To the burning smells then. The burning as the crashed car set on fire. The car that crashed as they tried to escape the zombies, as they tried to get away.

And Maya heard their screams in her mind, over and over again.

She saw her mum’s pained eyes. The words on her lips. “Go, Maya. Run.”

She remembered when the flames spread to Mum and Dad’s bodies.

When the screams and the squeals kicked in.

She remembered crying, trying not to listen, doing everything she could to get away from the burning car, from the surrounding zombies as the screaming and crying carried on.

And then she remembered the last thing she heard.

The very last words her mum screamed.

”Please don’t go Maya please help us please!”

Then another agonised scream.

Then, nothing.

She stuck her hand further into the ground. Pulled herself along. The gunshots and the flames so close now. And as they approached, it was those words that echoed in Maya’s ears. The words that woke her from her nightmares. Her mum’s last words.

”Please don’t go Maya please help us please!”

The desperation in her voice.

The truth to her words.

She wanted Maya to be safe.

But she also didn’t want to die in agony.

And she had.

She heard the footsteps stop right beside her.

She turned. Looked up at the two men. One of them holding a pistol. Another holding the flame-thrower.

She looked into the eyes of the man with the pistol. Saw a tear running down his cheek.

And then she looked at the windows of the houses. The twitching curtains. The terrified stares.

She saw a few of the people look her in the eye.

She knew they knew she was alive.

But they were too afraid to do anything about it.

Too afraid for their own family.

For themselves.

“I’m sorry,” the man with the pistol muttered.

Maya opened her mouth to respond.

She didn’t finish.

T
errance Schumer looked
down at the chaos on his streets and knocked back a Cobra beer.

“It’ll be over soon, sir,” Luis said. “All of it’ll be over soon.”

Terrance swallowed a swig of the bitter, flat-tasting Cobra. “I hope so, Luis. I hope so.”

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the opposite side of the room.

The beard on his face.

The bloodshot eyes.

The monster he’d become.

All in the name of protecting this great new world.

All in the name of the future.

He gulped down some more Cobra and prayed for unconsciousness.

H
ayden McCall watched
the two vans disappear from the entrance to the fences; to the tunnel.

He watched as they headed towards their missing vehicle. Towards their colleague, “Garth,” who hadn’t reported in for over an hour. Disappeared off the grid.

He took a deep breath.

Turned around.

Faced the tunnel entrance.

Then, he stepped inside.

T
he darkness
of the tunnel was thick, intense, almost tangible.

Hayden ran as quickly as he could through the tunnel. He wasn’t sure how far he’d been running. He heard his footsteps echoing around, bouncing off the walls. Now and then, he swore he saw movement in the pitch black shadows. Someone watching. Readying to attack.

Didn’t even matter if there was someone there. Not really.

All that mattered was he kept on running.

A stitch crippled at his stomach. The smells of the place were rich. Smells of people. Smells of a thousand stories. He hoped the people who’d broken into this tunnel—much like the people he’d ended up in the truck with on his way to Salvation—were okay. He hoped some of the ones who’d made it this far survived. That they hadn’t been through hell at the hands of the people behind the fences.

Because he knew the truth now.

He knew the truth about the virus. About its spread.

He just needed to prove it.

Prove it, somehow, and… well. Hope.

He tasted sweat on his lips combining with bitterness. A bitter copper taste. Like blood. He knew what that meant. Something bad happened in here. Killing. Murder. He knew the taste from a mile away.

He just had to hope the guards at the wall were distracted trying to locate their “missing” truck long enough to get through this tunnel.

He just had to hope Miriam and Sam pulled through.

He kept on going through the tunnel. Became conscious of his racing heart, thumping at a similar speed to his echoing footsteps. Was he moving too fast? No. No, he had to move this fast. He had to keep on moving. He had to keep on going and going until…

A noise. A noise to his right. He looked up. Squinted in the darkness.

No sign of life. Nothing.

Realising he’d stopped, Hayden kept on moving through the tunnel, picking up his pace again. Truth be told, he was surprised how poor security was in this place. Either they were extremely distracted, or… something else.

Something else he didn’t want to think about.

Something else he didn’t want to ponder.

He ran further and further until he saw movement.

This time, he was sure of it. Up ahead. Someone moving towards him.

And then a voice.

Impossible to comprehend—too far away—but definitely a voice.

He stopped. Looked around. Looked for somewhere to hide. He couldn’t fail. Not now.

So he threw himself to the right of the tunnel. Perched beside a kerb. Wasn’t sheltered, wasn’t disguised, but hopefully out of the way enough for whoever was approaching not to notice.

He waited there for a minute. Held his breath. The voices grew louder. Footsteps closer. Sounded like they were jogging. Jogging towards him.

“…Just hold on.”

“I can’t—”

“You need to. You know we need to.”

As Hayden curled up into more of a ball, he quickly became aware that these voices didn’t sound threatening. They didn’t sound dangerous or like the voices of guards.

They sounded terrified.

Like a terrified husband. A terrified wife.

Hayden waited a few more seconds. Held his breath, listening to the gasps of the oncoming people, the running people.

Were these people trying to get away?

What were they running from?

What was…

“Shit,” the man said. “They’re coming, Shelly. They’re fucking coming.”

“Hold it together, Paul. Hold it the fuck together.”

“How am I supposed to—”

“Ssh!”

Hayden listened to the silence. The silence that fell in place of the sound of their running.

He strained. Tried to listen for a noise.

Who was coming?

What was coming?

What was…

Then, he heard the moan.

The moan came from his left. Not from the direction he’d been expecting. From the direction he’d come from.

He turned back. Looked in that direction.

He saw figures. Darkened silhouettes drifting towards him. Drifting towards the man called Paul, his wife—Hayden assumed—Shelly.

He saw them waddling closer.

Waddling out of the open gratings at the sides of the tunnel.

Lots of them.

All filling up the tunnel.

All approaching.

It was in that instant that Hayden realised exactly what this tunnel was now. Exactly what its purpose was.

It was a trap.

It was a trap, and he was stuck in the trap.

Stuck in the trap as the zombies got closer.

Stuck in the trap with only one direction to go.

Closer to the city.

Closer to the other side.

Closer to the very place this terrified couple were running from.

T
here was
nothing else for Hayden to do but get up and run.

“Quick,” he shouted, sprinting towards the terrified duo.

He couldn’t see their faces. Not properly, not in this darkness. But he knew from the gasp of the man, Paul, that he’d startled them.

“We need to get back. Back towards the city. We need to get back there.”

Hayden kept on running, not waiting for Paul and Shelly to follow. He could hear the zombies staggering ever closer. He could hear them snarling. Hear their footsteps thumping against the cold, damp ground. Smell blood and taste death in the air.

But all he could do was run.

All he could do was wait for Miriam and Sam to pull through with their end of the plan.

All he could do was hurtle on towards the city beyond the wall.

Towards the new world.

“You—you can’t go that way,” Shelly mumbled. “You can’t go back there.”

“You’re wrong. We can.”

“You’re from outside. You haven’t—you haven’t seen that place yet. You haven’t seen what they do. To people like us.”

Hayden knew Shelly meant by “people like us.” Outsiders. And although he didn’t know exactly what they did to outsiders within these walls, he had an idea. He’d seen the depths of cruelty humanity sank to when its back was up against a wall. “I don’t know exactly. You’re right. But we can’t… we can’t stay here.”

Hayden heard the small crowd of zombies closing in on Paul and Shelly, their silhouettes impossible to make out at this distance in the dark.

He heard the sobs of Paul. The sobs of Shelly.

He knew he couldn’t go back for them. Going back was suicide. Going back meant deviating from the plan.

Then he remembered the boy.

He remembered the little boy looking back at him, desperation in his eyes.

The little boy he’d left behind…

No.

He couldn’t leave these people behind. He couldn’t leave anyone behind. Not anymore.

Because nobody was more or less important than anyone else.

Everybody was human.

Everyone deserved a chance to survive.

From outside or inside, everyone deserved a chance.

Hayden stopped. Ran back towards Paul, towards Shelly. He felt insane as the echoing groans of the undead danced off the walls and the ceiling of the tunnel. Felt like he was running into oblivion. Running towards an inevitable, unstoppable fate, reality slamming into him like a freight train.

He was going to die.

He was going to die…

No.

No, he wasn’t going to die.

He was going to save these people.

And even if he did die, he’d die saving these people.

Die giving them a second chance.

It wasn’t long before Hayden reached Paul, Shelly. He put a hand on their shoulders. The zombies were just feet away from them as they stared back.

“Quick,” Hayden said, pulling them away.

But they didn’t.

They stayed put.

“Come on!”

Shelly turned. Shook her head.

“There’s nothing for us back there,” she said.

The zombie at the front of the crowd snapped its teeth, hurtled closer.

Towards Shelly.

“No. That’s not true.”

Hayden lifted the wrench.

Swung it across the neck of the first zombie.

Split it apart.

He pushed past Paul, past Shelly.

“You go back there,” he said. “You run to the gates. I’ll be there soon. Try not to draw any attention. Try not to let anyone know I’ve survived it.”

“How do you know you’ll survive it?”

Hayden turned. Faced the ten-strong crowd of zombies, head on. “I will.”

He swung the pipe against the neck of the next zombie.

Then slammed it through the decaying throat of another, hoping he’d got a clean hit, impossible to tell for definite in the blackness.

He attacked the rest of the zombies. Attacked them in this perfect darkness. And as he swung and stabbed the wrench at his victims, Hayden didn’t recognise himself. He didn’t recognise the man he’d become. The man he’d turned into in just a few short months.

The man he’d become in order to survive.

No. Not just to survive.

But to help others.

To help everyone he could.

Because that’s what this world was about now. Not self-interest. Not hiding behind makeshift walls. Not rounding up the weak and hiding them away in prisons under nicer fucking names.

It was about helping each other. It was about starting again. But not from the top down. From the ground up.

It took Hayden a moment to realise the tunnel had gone silent.

Blood rolled down his arms. He could taste it on his lips. The wrench had bent, twisted, chipped at the top where it’d come into contact with a few too many spines. All his weeks of training. All his weeks of building his strength to survive this world alone. All of it going to better use.

He could see that now.

He wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t going to be alone.

Not anymore.

Not while there were people to help.

People to save.

People to survive with.

He turned around. Ran away from the fallen corpses of the zombies. Some of them still wriggled around, gargled, as he’d failed to take out their necks. And some of the ones whose necks he’d broken were still active, too. He didn’t know why. Didn’t know what other secrets the virus had. How else it’d morphed.

Only that it hadn’t morphed in one way.

It hadn’t morphed in the way the people running things behind this wall wanted everyone to believe.

He ran. Ran towards the city. Hoped Paul and Shelly were still fine. Hoped they were still okay.

A light flashed in front of him. Sudden, out of nowhere. It illuminated the tunnel. Too large to be a basic torchlight. Like a proper lantern. Expensive, undoubtedly. Heavy duty.

Hayden covered his eyes. Squinted ahead. Peered into the light. He tried to see beyond it. Tried to make out a sign of life. A sense of who was there. Who was watching him.

And then he heard a voice.

“Sorry about this. But it’s time for the people beyond the fences to really, really understand what’s happening to the people outside.”

Hayden heard a click.

Then a blast.