Noah stroked Iqrah’s cold, goosy arms. He felt worried for her. Concerned for her. This vision thing, it wasn’t good at all. “It’s… it’s probably just the shock. It’ll come back.”
“But I’m scared.”
“I know you’re scared. But I’m here, okay? I’m here.”
He picked Iqrah up. Lifted her onto his shoulder. He didn’t feel too steady on his feet himself. That headache, those ringing ears… he wondered how far he’d been from losing his vision, too.
He looked around at the mass of infected lying dead across the promenade. Contorted limbs. Exploded skulls. He wondered what he and Iqrah had tapped into to do this. It felt like something had changed inside him in that moment. Like a bomb had gone off, bigger and more powerful than anything he’d channeled before.
He looked at this mass of bodies and felt a lump swell in his throat.
Whatever had happened here, one thing was for certain.
They needed to leave Blackpool.
They needed to get away from this place.
There was nothing here for them.
“You’ll check,” Iqrah said.
“What?”
“You’ll check. If—if my parents are here. I can tell you how they look. My dad. He has—has this grey patch. This big freckle on his cheek. And my mum. She has the longest eyelashes. These bright green eyes. You’ll check, won’t you?”
Noah’s stomach sank. He looked around at the trams. He didn’t want to go back in there. Didn’t want to sift through the tomb of bodies. Besides, what difference would it make anymore?
The sooner they got out of Blackpool and back into hiding, the better.
“I’ll check,” Noah said, guilt building inside. “I’ll check.”
He looked at the trams.
Then at Bruno, who stared up at him like he knew he was going to betray Iqrah’s trust.
And then he took a deep breath and turned away.
It was only when he turned away and went to walk that he heard the footsteps behind.
That he heard rustling.
Inside one of the trams.
He froze.
Spun around.
Reached instinctively for his knife.
That’s when he saw her.
A small woman. Thin. Long, ginger hair. Bright blue eyes.
She was covered in blood.
Tears covered her cheeks.
She looked at Noah and Iqrah, and her eyes widened.
“Iq… Iqrah?” she said.
Chapter Nine
“Iqrah? Is… is that you?”
Noah stared at the woman opposite and stood his ground. His heart raced. He didn’t like this. Didn’t know where she’d appeared from for one, whether she’d stepped out of the trams or arisen from the masses of fallen infected. How long had she been here? Why hadn’t she made her presence clear earlier?
And how did she know Iqrah?
Iqrah shuffled around on Noah’s shoulder. She squinted, tried to direct her blinded eyes over towards the woman. “Who is that?”
Noah held on to her tight. By his side, Bruno growled. He stood his ground. Knife in hand. This woman standing there. Long, greasy ginger hair dangling down her chest. Dark circles under her beaming blue eyes. She looked dirty and greasy, with torn clothes, like she’d been out here a while.
“Who are you?” Noah asked.
The woman took another step forward.
Noah lifted his knife. On guard. Not wanting to risk anything. Not wanting to take any chances. “I asked you a question. Who are you?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed as they landed on Noah. “Who am I? Who are you more like? And what the hell are you doing with Iqrah?”
Iqrah shuffled around even more on Noah’s shoulder. Her blindness wasn’t helping with the confusion of this situation.
“You know this woman, Iqrah? Ginger. Bright blue eyes. Skinny as a rake.”
Iqrah frowned for a moment. Still tried to squint ahead, to peer into the distance, then gave up.
And her silence alarmed Noah. It made him wonder if this was another element of the infection. He’d seen cases of infected masquerading as normal before. Rare, but it sent a shiver up his spine.
Especially since he felt so… well. Broken. So out of touch with that place inside him. That void within.
It felt like whatever he’d done here to the mass of infected had changed something within him somehow.
And then Iqrah spoke.
“Kirsty?”
The woman’s eyes widened. It’s like Iqrah’s words awoke something in her. Made her realise it was her, after all.
“Iqrah?” the woman said. “Yes, my love. Yes. It’s me. It’s—it’s me.”
She started walking towards Noah and Iqrah when Noah lifted his knife.
Kirsty stopped. Her eyes narrowed. “Seriously?”
“This woman,” Noah said. “Kirsty. Can she be trusted?”
Kirsty’s cheeks flushed. “Of course I can—”
“I’m speaking to Iqrah.”
“But—”
“Iqrah, can she be trusted?”
Iqrah lifted her head. Nodded. “She was… she was my mum’s best friend here. Before they took me away. She used to teach me and some of the other kids. She had a boy. Bertie.” A tear rolled down Iqrah’s face. Her lips twitched.
Noah looked over at Kirsty, then. She was crying too. And as cautious as he felt, as much as it took him out of his comfort zone, he lowered his knife. Slipped it into his pocket. Nodded at Kirsty to approach.
Kirsty stepped forward. Still looked a little intimidated by Noah. Couldn’t stop looking at the stump where his left hand once sat, for one.
“Iqrah,” she said, putting her hand on hers. “I didn’t… I didn’t think we’d ever see you again.”
Noah let Iqrah loose. He didn’t want to, but he let her. “She can’t see.”
Kirsty frowned. “What?”
“Iqrah. Something happened. She can’t see. Don’t know if it’s permanent. But go easy on her. And I can see, remember? So don’t go trying anything.”
Kirsty looked up at Noah, then back at Iqrah. “I wouldn’t do a thing. Come here, my love. Come here.”
She wrapped her arms around Iqrah. Held her, tight. Noah stood there, knife firmly in hand, watching closely. Keeping a close eye on Kirsty and Iqrah for one. And on the fallen infected, too. He looked up, over at the derelict buildings lining the promenade. The clouds thickening again. A cool breeze drifting along the seafront. The sound of waves crashing against the shore. It felt quiet. Too quiet.
“What happened here?” Noah asked.
Kirsty glanced up at him, eyes stained with tears. “I—I don’t know.”
“You
