But the more she squinted, the more she tried to see, the more she was met with darkness.
Total blackness surrounded her. Last time, when she’d lost her sight, she soon started to see a little light forming right in the centre of her vision. Not clear, hard to pinpoint, but definitely there.
But right now, it felt like she’d had a blindfold tightened around her head in the middle of the night. Jet black darkness. Not even that pinkish colour that’s always present when your eyes are closed. It was as if she’d never even had any eyesight at all, the sensory loss was that significant.
A cool breeze brushed against her. She had no idea what time it was, no idea how long had passed. Every time something rustled in the distance, or Bruno shuffled around and whimpered with his sore, wounded paw, she twitched around. Stared in the direction of any noise, even though she couldn’t see what was coming. The taste of blood covered her mouth. She was shivery, cold.
And she didn’t want to act pathetic. She didn’t want to lay down and admit defeat.
But what could she do?
She was without her sight. The worst had happened. She was lost in the middle of No Man’s Land. Bruno was injured and needed help.
As much as she wanted to get to Morecambe, to get to her parents… she knew her only option right now was to find somewhere safe. Somewhere to lay low. Somewhere to hide.
But how the hell was she supposed to find somewhere to hide when she couldn’t see?
She reached out, tried to find Bruno with her fingers. She could hear him panting in front of her; hear him whimpering.
She just wanted him close. She just wanted to feel his warm fur.
Because she knew damn well that Bruno was doomed out here, with a wound like that.
He needed it seeing to, properly. They might’ve bandaged it up for now, but Kirsty said it needed stitching up.
And if it didn’t get stitched up, she’d be alone, and she’d have failed Noah.
“No,” she said.
A sudden defiance surged through her. A determination not to sit down. Not to hide. Not to mope. Because if she did that, she’d starve. She’d die of thirst. Or the infected would come for her, or those weird Society people with the red marks on their bodies, and they would take her or kill her.
No.
She had to get up. She had to at least try following the road. Kirsty said they were on the last stretch. That it was just a walk down the main road for a few miles, and then they’d be there.
And Iqrah knew there was a strong chance she’d run into someone along the way. That she’d run into trouble.
But fuck it, as Noah would say.
There was a chance someone would run into her if she stayed here. Or that she’d die, and Bruno would die, and as she was clutching her stomach with hunger and gasping with thirst, the only thought in her mind would be that she’d had a chance to attempt to get away, had a chance to try, and instead she’d just sat there and accepted her fate.
That wasn’t the girl her mum and dad raised.
That wasn’t the “little fighter” Dad told her she was.
She pushed herself to her feet. Her head spun, and she felt a little wobbly, a little lightheaded.
“Come on, Bruno. I… I’m sorry, lad. You’re gonna have to walk. But we’ll go slow. We’ll go really slow for you. For both of us.”
She fumbled to reach him again, tried to find him for support—even if it was just moral support above anything.
Her hand landed on his fur. She ruffled around, tried to figure out which part of him it was when she felt his tongue lick her hand.
She smiled. Felt tears stinging her broken eyes. “That’s it. We’ll be okay. We’ll be fine.”
She didn’t want to stop him licking her, didn’t want to stop patting his head.
But then she looked around again. Off into the ever-present darkness.
She had to orient herself. She had to get her bearings.
She reached for the brick wall on the left. Tried to feel for it, tried to figure out which way round she was, where she was facing. She could feel a breeze up ahead, so figured that was the way to the road.
But she wanted to be certain. She didn’t want to waste a bit of energy. Not now.
Her hands landed on the wall at the side of her. She pressed her fingers against the cold brick, and then she started to move along it.
The further she got along, the steadier her walking got; she pulled one hand away. And she started to feel an optimism. Started to feel a confidence. She could hear really well. She just had to get to the main road. And if she heard anyone nearby, she just had to hide.
That’s when she felt something against her thigh, and she tumbled over.
She fell face flat on the ground. Landed in something damp and mushy.
As she fumbled around at it, it didn’t take Iqrah long to realise it was one of the bodies of the guards.
She jolted back. Pulled the sharp, broken skull from between her fingers. Shivered. Heart racing. It wasn’t going to be as easy as she wanted it to be. It wasn’t going to be straightforward.
But she had to keep it together.
She had to try.
She steadied herself on the wall again. Reached out for Bruno, felt his tongue against her sore hand again, right beside her.
“Good boy,” she said. “We’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna get out of here. We’re gonna get to Morecambe, and you’re gonna meet my mum and dad. Okay? We’re gonna make this.”
She felt him licking her hand some more.
Then she moved her hand away again, as much as she didn’t want to.
She looked ahead into the darkness.
Moved along the wall.
Kept on moving, keeping her footsteps steadier, until the wall gave way.
She stood
