And when they had what they needed from them, they could throw them the hell away. Discard them.
And then the rest of the damned nation—the rest of the damned world—would get in line.
But a couple of weeks had passed now, and no mention of Noah. No mention of the plans. Until yesterday. Word that the powers that be wanted Noah again. That they wanted to bring him in. Because it was dangerous for him to be out here. Something to do with the helicopters. Something to do with dead bodies. Slime-laden dead bodies.
Apparently, the game had changed. And who the hell was Cameron to argue?
He looked down the hill at the industrial estate. He was flanked by ten of the Reds’ best. They were fully armed. They had to be ready for whatever this place threw at them.
Because the orders from above were clear. If this community didn’t comply, they had every right to gun every last one of them down, until they got to Noah.
“You ready?”
Cameron looked around. Saw Bertie standing at his side. Bertie was a good lad. Loyal. A true Red. He felt good having Bertie by his side. Felt stronger. Like anything was possible.
He nodded. “Too right, I’m ready. This shit’s dragged on far too long. Time to drag the fucker out by the scruff of the…”
He stopped.
Because overhead, he heard something.
Not thunder, which he thought at first. Not wind. Not even gunshots from the industrial estate, who he feared might’ve got first sight of them.
Not infected.
Not Society.
Cameron looked up at the sky.
Overhead, he saw the helicopters passing over, wading their way through the clouds.
He frowned. The others looked up, frowned too. These helicopters. He’d heard about them. Heard rumours about them. But the fact they were now here… the fact they were now passing over…
“What…” Bertie started.
He didn’t finish.
None of them finished.
It was only moments after the helicopters passed over that Cameron and Bertie breathed their final breaths.
That all of those Reds breathed their final breaths.
Chapter Forty-Five
Noah felt the armoured vehicle grind to a halt, and he knew it was time.
He clutched on to a rifle as he lay there in the back of the van. Stared off into the darkness of the closed door. His heart raced. His chest was tight. By his side, Bruno panted away.
Truth be told, he didn’t really know what the hell he was going to do. What the hell his plan was here. He kind of hoped the doors would swing open, and he could just blast all these Society fuckers into the ground, but he wasn’t Rambo.
But that knowledge. That thought that they were heading to the industrial estate for some reason, heading there because they truly believed him to be there. That meant they were a threat to Kelly. To Shel. And to Iqrah’s memory.
So he’d do whatever he could to stand up and protect them.
And if he got caught along the way… then so be it. That’s how it was supposed to be. That was his destiny.
But he wasn’t going down without a fight.
The engines of the van rumbled away. He could hear the other vans behind this one. So many Society guards. All of them heading to one place. He knew Kelly’s folks at the industrial estate had a bit of firepower, but this was something else altogether.
He thought about those explosives he’d seen in the back of one of the vans. He thought about what they had planned with them.
And he wondered if he could get to them and halt this threat in its tracks, once and for all.
He sat there. Bruno started to whine. His heart raced. The tension in the air grew heavier.
And all the while, he couldn’t shake the sense that something greater was coming. Something greater than him, than the Society, than the Reds, than all of this.
His thoughts kept going back to the bodies at Blackpool. To the helicopters.
And to those dying words of the Society guard.
“Heli…”
He closed his eyes as the voices grew louder. Tried to tap into that void inside him, tried to sink into its energy, to no avail. He still felt weak. Still felt broken. Ever since Iqrah died, he felt like he’d never harness that energy he knew he had in him again.
But maybe he just had to keep trying.
Maybe he had to do what Iqrah had done.
Because she’d done it. She’d shown willingness. She’d shown strength.
She’d broken the chain. Done the unexpected. She’d sacrificed herself to stop them capturing her and Noah.
So what was he going to do? Just let them take him? Was that really in honour of Iqrah’s legacy?
No. Not a fucking chance.
He went to take a breath when he heard the doors at the back of the van open.
Light filled the van, made Noah squint. Bruno started to groan, so Noah whispered to him, tried to reassure him. He didn’t want to blow this cover. Didn’t want to give himself away.
He stayed totally still. Squinted at the van doors. Expected a whole army of Society guards to come piling in.
But instead, he saw just one guy.
“Hurry the fuck up, Harry. Should’ve got yourself a rifle before we set off.”
“Okay,” the guy said, shaking his head. “Okay. Cut me some fuckin’ slack, alright? Shittin’ myself a bit here. Just nervous, okay?”
He stumbled into the back of the van. He was a short guy, long curly black hair right down to his shoulders. Thin and slight, with these thick-rimmed glasses sitting comically above his mask.
He stared into the darkness of the back of the van. Looked around, his left eye squinting away.
“Righto,” he said. “Rifle. Get myself a damned rifle. Fuckin’ idiots.”
Noah watched him walk right over towards him. He kept his rifle pointed. Heart racing. Held on to Bruno with the bicep of his fucked arm. He didn’t want to pull the trigger. Didn’t want to start the shit right now.
But if this guy saw him, he was
