Infection Z (Book 4), page 10
part #4 of Infection Z Series
A few smiles amongst the crowd. Grateful refugees. Proud individuals.
“But some alarming truths have come to light. Something we’ve suspected for a long time, but only now can confirm.”
Terrance Schumer saw the terrified faces. He knew what this would do to him. It’d destroy him. Destroy the trust between them.
But eventually, they’d come crawling back to him.
Because fear was as powerful as trust.
No. Fear was more powerful than trust.
“What’re you saying?” someone from the back shouted.
Terrance Schumer looked for the shouter. Didn’t find them. Didn’t have to. Everyone was staring at him. Everyone waiting for his announcement. Waiting for his revelation.
He wiped his sweaty hair back. Taste of vomit in his mouth.
He looked back up at the waiting crowd.
No getting away from it now.
No escaping the truth.
No place to hide.
“The virus. The infection. The one that changed so many of our loved ones. The one that… the one that ravaged our beautiful former country. The one that swallowed our world whole. It’s…”
Terrance Schumer saw Luis at the front of the crowd. He saw him nodding. Damned Luis. He’d wanted this all along. This was his method. His idea. The very thing he’d implemented.
The alternative method.
The backup plan.
But as much as Terrance loathed the idea, he knew it was right. He knew it was right for the future of humanity. The future of New Britain.
He knew people had to fall for people to rise.
And that’s why he felt no guilt about the decision he’d made to announce the reality.
Not anymore.
“Spit it out!” a woman shouted. Her voice echoed through the silence.
Terrance Schumer closed his eyes.
Swallowed.
Opened them again. Looked out at the crowd.
“I’m sorry to have to announce we’re closing the door to new refugees as of this second.”
Silence, initially.
Then a few puzzled glances.
Then, in an instant, a roar of questions.
Terrance Schumer watched the pandemonium beneath. Saw angry faces of migrants. Saw frustrated, puzzled looks on those who’d taken them into their homes, into their workplaces.
He listened to the chaos erupt. Listened to it surround him.
Then, he stepped back to the microphone.
“We’re closing the gates and we’re running a decontamination programme right here in New Britain.”
More puzzlement. Bafflement. Everyone shouting a variation on the same question. Decontamination? Why? What’s going on?”
Terrance Schumer looked a short, ginger woman right in her eyes. He remembered the day she’d crossed the wall. The day she’d stepped inside. Got her number. Got her shots. Got her assignments, just like the rest of her fellow refugees.
He saw the snot running down her face. The bloodshot look in her eyes.
He felt guilt.
He felt regret.
Because he knew the truth. He’d known it all along, and he’d kept it from her. He’d kept it from his people.
“The fuck’s goin’ on here?” someone screamed.
Terrance Schumer glanced at Luis.
Then back at the crowd.
And he said the words he’d been dreading all morning.
All week.
All… ever.
“The virus is airborne. And some of us are carriers.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You ready?”
“Not really.”
“Good. On three. Two. One…”
Hayden held his breath as he barged through the metal rear door of the ASDA supermarket. It’d taken a full morning and afternoon of walking to find their first sign of life—or life as it used to be. Fortunately for them, it just so happened to be a shop. A shop the group had scouted for ages. Watched from afar. Kept a close eye on.
It looked derelict. Looked empty.
Hayden hoped to whoever was up there that was the case.
“Come on,” Miriam called, waving the other thirteen group members along. They hadn’t spoken much. Not since the incident at the cabin. Not since Bob turning. Since Rajiv, Bhvishya, all of them turning.
Turning out of the blue.
Out of nowhere.
“You going first or am I gonna have to brave it?”
Hayden looked at Miriam. She glared at him from beside the open door. Seemed quiet in there. Dust floated out. A good sign. If dust had the chance to settle, it was usually an indication that people hadn’t.
They didn’t want to face any people. Not right now.
Not ever again.
Hayden walked in through the door. Stopping off at a supermarket wasn’t ideal. But the truth was, they were hungry. Low on food. Low on water. Low on everything. If they were lucky, maybe they’d find a few cans of beans in this place. Or some tinned tuna. Anything tinned would do.
Oh, biscuits too. Biscuits didn’t go off. If the rats hadn’t got to them, they’d be a handy find.
Hayden walked slowly through the dark storage room of the supermarket. The stuffiness outside was contrasted by the coolness in here. Hayden heard nothing but the chatter of his group. Nothing but the squeaking of his own footsteps against the dirty tiles. Nothing but the thumping of his heart.
He reached the door at the back of the storage room. There was nothing in here. Already raided, evidently. Didn’t bode well for the rest of the supermarket.
But they had to try.
Try, or starve.
He knew which he preferred.
“You look better when you’re taking a bit of responsibility,” Miriam said.
Hayden held the handle of the door leading towards the main supermarket area. He turned. Looked at Miriam. “What do you…”
“Stepping up to the plate. Leading. Like this. It suits you.”
Hayden wasn’t sure what to say to Miriam. He didn’t want to lead. Didn’t like the idea of leading anyone. Because he knew the chaos his leadership skills caused. He knew the loss that emerged whenever he got involved.
But he was at the front of the line. He was the one holding the door.
So maybe that’s just how it had to be.
Maybe he was the leader Miriam wanted for her group. That the group wanted.
He turned back to the door, not saying a word in reply to Miriam, and gripped the handle tight. Listened to the silence beyond.
Lower the handle, investigate, get out of here.
Lower it, investigate, get out.
He thought about walking away. About running away. The thought crossed his mind way more than had to be healthy.
But he knew there was no way out. Not now. Not anymore.
Not now he was with this group. Really with them.
Not now they were with him.
So he lowered the handle.
Pushed the door aside.
Lifted the sharp metal pipe.
The first thing that hit Hayden was the smell.
“Oh, Jesus,” Russell—one of the group members—muttered. “Is that dead?”
Hayden covered his nostrils. Looked around the empty supermarket. The lights were all out, of course, which gave these shops a really eerie hue. Something strange about a supermarket with the lights out. Something ghostly.
“It’s something dead alright,” Hayden said, stepping into the supermarket. “But I don’t think it’s zombies.”
He walked past the rotting fruit and vegetables, which flies buzzed around, maggots swarmed. Most of the loose veg had been eaten away, but the veg in bags were blackened, little holes in the plastic where rats and mice nibbled their way inside, giving the flies an entry route.
“Least the vermin are keeping healthy,” a ginger woman called Jill muttered. Always followed everything with a nervous little laugh. This included.
Hayden kept his hand over his mouth as he made his way towards the canned food aisles. Miriam followed closely behind. As he scanned his surroundings—the broken glass lining the tiles, stale beer festering from smashed bottles, cheery mascots on children’s cereal boxes grinning back at him like all was normal—Hayden couldn’t help but cast his mind back to Bob again. Something happened. Something made him turn.
He remembered Little Tim. The way he’d turned out of the blue.
Just like Bob.
Just like the others.
“Holy shit. Rice fucking pudding!”
Hayden watched Jill run towards the rice pudding, almost slipping on spilled food. The air was sweet with decay. And although Hayden was relieved to find this place—although everyone seemed happy to finally have some food—he couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to get out of here. Wanting to get away.
Because something wasn’t right.
He felt a nudge on his left arm. Turned, saw Miriam smiling.
She didn’t say anything to him. Just kept on smiling. Blue eyes twinkling.
“What?” Hayden asked.
Miriam nodded at the group.
When Hayden looked at them, he saw them smiling too. Saw them laughing. Like their troubles, their travelling, all of it had been nothing, all of it was forgotten, all the loss and the pain was irrelevant now they had something to smile about, something to distract themselves with.
“You did good,” Miriam said.
Hayden scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t really—”
“What happened to you? Before we met. Really.”
Hayden’s jaw tightened. His cheeks heated up. He remembered everything, right from the start. The fear and confusion he’d felt in the first days. The way he’d stepped up because he had to.
Then the loss that just kept on stacking up.
He found himself looking into Miriam’s eyes and wanting to tell her everything. Wanting to open up. Because in a sense, he figured it’d make him feel better. It’d free him, somehow.
Instead, all he could say was, “I grew up too fast in this world. Now it’s catching up with me.”
He wasn’t sure where those words came from. But he saw Miriam’s eyes narrowing in concentration.
She put a hand on his arm. Offered a sad smile.
And in a soothing tone, she said, “You aren’t alone there. Things will work out. For both of us.”
Hayden felt Miriam’s hand on his arm. Felt himself falling into her eyes. Heart racing. Laughter, joy, all of his present distractions slipping away into the background.
And the past, too.
Slipping away.
Becoming irrelevant.
Because he did have something to fight for.
People to fight for.
Someone to fight for.
He was about to tell Miriam more about his past when he saw the little boy watching from the back of the supermarket.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Hayden? What is it?”
Miriam’s words blended into the background of Hayden’s consciousness. All sounds blended into the background of Hayden’s consciousness.
All he could focus on was the boy at the back of the supermarket.
Standing there.
Staring at him.
He looked at the boy. Dark hair. Short. Skinny. Manchester United shirt dangling loosely over his tiny frame.
But more than anything, it was the look in the boy’s eyes that Hayden saw. The fear. The fear of… something.
Not to mention the blood rolling down his cheeks.
Just like the boy Hayden let down.
Just like the boy he’d ran away from.
Hayden took a step in the boy’s direction. He felt Miriam grab his arm, but it didn’t feel nice anymore. It didn’t feel soothing. Didn’t feel anything.
“Hayden, what’s—”
“That boy. There’s a boy. He needs… he needs help.”
“What boy?” Russell muttered. “There ain’t a boy there.”
Hayden kept on walking. A lump swelled in his throat. “There is. He’s…”
When he stepped a little closer, he saw the boy wasn’t there anymore.
The boy was gone.
Hayden stood there. Goose pimples rising on his arms. The taste of sweat covering his lips.
He’d seen a boy. Seen a kid.
Not a hallucination.
Couldn’t be a hallucination.
Couldn’t…
“Hey.”
Miriam’s fingers touched his arm again. Snapped him out of his trance. Behind, the rest of the group looked on with puzzled eyes.
Hayden looked into Miriam’s eyes. Was he crazy? Was he imagining things again? Maybe he was. Maybe that’s all this was. The boy was a figment of his imagination. An invention of his mind. A construct of his…
Then he heard the scream.
There was no denying it this time. Not with the way Miriam turned. Not with the way the rest of the group looked at one another.
A scream.
A child’s scream.
A boy’s scream.
“What do you think… hey! Hayden!”
Hayden didn’t stick around to talk this one out.
He ran in the direction he’d seen the boy.
He ran to where he swore he’d seen him.
He had to be there.
He couldn’t let him down.
Couldn’t let another kid down.
Couldn’t turn his back on anyone else.
He slipped over some spilled wine. Flies buzzed up from the crystallised alcohol. He ran out of the alcohol aisle, down past the meat, which rotted away, the smell even worse than the decaying veg.
It should’ve made him hurl. Should’ve made him puke his guts up.
But it didn’t.
It just kept him running.
He heard Miriam call for him. Heard the rest of the group running after him. And he felt some guilt for leaving them behind. Some guilt for running away.
But he wasn’t running away for self-interest. He wasn’t running away to save himself.
He was running towards someone who needed saving.
Someone who needed his help.
Help that he should’ve given long ago.
He saw the double doors to his left swinging lightly. Ran through them, metal pipe in hand. He didn’t know what awaited on the other side of this door. Didn’t know how much he’d need the pipe. Just that the boy screamed. Which meant the boy was in danger.
Which meant he needed Hayden’s help.
Hayden ran through the door. Barged through them into another storage area. This was just as gloomy as the last though it wasn’t as dusty. Wasn’t as empty. Boxes of electronics stacked on top of one another. A broken television lying cracked in the middle of the floor. A sign that looters had once been here. Barged in here to find anything of value to sell on in the new world.
Just a pity nothing had value anymore.
Nothing but food.
Nothing but life.
Hayden stopped in the middle of the dusty storage room. Took a few deep breaths, tried to calm himself down. If the kid was in here, he needed to know where exactly. It was a maze of cabinets, of shelves, of makeshift wooden corridors and forklift trucks.
He needed to use his ears.
He needed to listen.
He needed to…
He saw something. Saw movement over to his left. Clear plastic twitching. Something behind it. Someone behind it.
Hayden crept up towards the clear plastic. Held the pipe tightly. If anyone were in here—anyone who tried to hurt his group, that boy, his people—then he’d kill them. He wouldn’t hesitate. He couldn’t, not anymore.
Hesitation was for the weak.
He wasn’t weak.
He couldn’t be weak.
He walked slowly towards the clear plastic. Saw it moving some more. Definitely someone behind it. Definitely someone waiting.
The boy? He wasn’t sure.
Someone else? He didn’t even like to consider that.
As he reached the clear plastic, every muscle in his body tense, he put a hand to it. Grabbed it. Readied himself to pull it aside.
Then, something dawned on him.
He’d been in this storage area some time now and nobody had come storming through the door after him.
No Miriam.
No nobody.
He pulled aside the clear plastic.
The little boy crouched there. Curled up in a ball. Only… no. It wasn’t the little boy he’d seen before. This one was taller. Bulkier. Paler. Wearing a purple cardigan.
Hayden stared at him, stared into his chestnut eyes. The boy stared back at him.
“What…”
Hayden heard something click behind him.
He turned around.
Saw a man standing there. Bald. Wearing white dungarees. Narrow cheekbones. Fluffy beard that looked like it couldn’t buy a fucking bristle. Piercing grey eyes.
“You come away from my boy and we can get this over with nice ’n quick,” the man said.
He was holding a Stanley knife.
Pressing it to the first young boy’s neck.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“You come away from my boy and you step right over here. Step right over here like—like a man.”
Hayden stared into the wide eyes of the bald man. He saw they were bloodshot. Feral. Like a rabid dog. An animal left neglected. Alone for way too long.
He pressed the unfurled Stanley knife into the young boy’s neck. The one with the blood down his face that Hayden had seen earlier. So he was real. He was real, and he was in here.
He looked at Hayden with tearful eyes.
Hayden saw the desperation on his face clearly.
A bang at the door. Fists thumping against it.
“Hayden!” a muffled voice called. Miriam. But even though she was just through the door, she sounded so far away. So distant. Like this room was locked away from everywhere else.
Probably because it was.
“Your friends aren’t gettin’ in here,” the man said. “Not—not until you bring ’um in here anyway. Soundproof. Did soundproofin’ before the world went shitty. Did a good job, right? Did a good job, didn’t I?”
Hayden saw the guy’s eyes lighten up. Like he’d forgotten where he was, what the situation was, for a moment. Hayden noticed just how much the guy reeked of piss. Combined with that rabid look in his eyes, he knew he was dealing with someone not quite sane. Someone with a distorted sense of reality.
