Only The Living (Lost Survival Series Book 1) (14 page)

I couldn't look, much less protest as Harry stuck his knife under the grey-tinted eyeball. Prying it out of its socket, the fat Lost could only wheeze and groan in response, too large to even sit up straight and bite into the enraged mutilator. The onlookers were absolutely petrified, frozen in place as they gazed upon Harry's display of temporary insanity.

There was no telling how long this went on for. Organ by organ, Harry pulled Ian's dad apart and screamed for the still-attached head to bring his best friend back. I tried to attract his attention to the forming crowd, but he couldn't even register my presence. The only sight in his tunnel vision was Ian's death, and how he was unable to avenge him.

It only took one more terrified scream for him to look up and reconnect with reality. It didn’t come from me, nor a concerned citizen. Right behind Harry, clutching onto Millie's hand, stood a little girl.
No, Beth...

Those innocent eyes of hers took in the sea of dead bodies, at the centre of which lay the blood-drenched Harry and his dissected toy.

His murderous glare violated the small child for a brief moment, before turning around to take in his 'art’ from a new perspective. Dropping his knife into a congealed pool of bile and gore, he wiped his hands along the floor to try and wash away the red...

Those stains wouldn't be coming out for a long time.

It took a while for Beth to regain consciousness, fainting after what she'd seen in the community centre. When she finally woke up, she couldn’t stop herself from crying. The girl was convinced that Harry was going to kill her, and wouldn't even say a word until he left the entire building, constantly apologising as he went.

My mum reappeared when the centre was once again secure, but I was too exhausted to run over and hug her. Instead she came to me, with a face of utter sympathy... like she'd just realised that we had returned without Ian. Without a word, I nearly wobbled to my knees as she held me, and I bawled softly into her shoulder. I just wanted this nightmare to be over.

I wanted Ian to be alive again, even if it meant us never crossing paths in that interview room. I wished that the Lost hadn't come in the first place, although that was probably everyone’s wish.

The world we had fallen into was cruel, harsh; the most disgusting parts were the ones that hadn’t changed at all. The worst facets of human nature were now glorified by freedom, the lawlessness that the wandering Lost had brought along with their anarchy.

From where I was standing, we were the only ones who still cared about protecting others. Everyone else just wanted to use us, toy with our safety or eat our flesh. If that was all the new world had to offer, I was growing sick of it already.

I stood alone outside the community centre, bathing in the dawn's orange light as Serah approached from behind. She’d already reunited with her parents, but for some reason she stuck around to make sure that the rest of us were okay. I wished that we could be, if only for her peace of mind.

Every muscle in my body felt exhausted, but not because of fatigue or even the trauma we'd just been through. I was feeling tired for all of the obstacles I would have to overcome, every single day in this bleak future.

Harry had seemingly ran off in the direction we had previously travelled — if I had to guess, he went to see Ian's grave one last time. Maybe disappearing was a good idea... After all, no one really wanted to say goodbye after what he did.

As my thoughts returned to the Medical School, somehow I had pushed the most curious fact of all to the back of my mind. Looking into my steady hands, I tried to imagine what the internal structure would look like; wondering why my veins circulated blood to each of my limbs, without any consent or even awareness.

“I'm... still alive.”

“Yep,” was all my companion said.

“Serah... How did you know? Even back then, just after we got bitten—”

“I'm a medical student, so it probably stood out more to me. In fact, I'm the reason they got their name.”

I was confused by this. “Name... Those red-hoodie guys? The O-something?” Serah smiled to herself, but let it fade when her eyes hit the horizon. They were still out there, somewhere…

“Not what I would have chosen, but yeah. The O-Saints. When some people get bitten, they don't turn. It's all to do with what's in here.” She motioned to her heart, and I immediately got the hint.

“O, as in blood type... People with that certain blood are immune to the infection? Like you and me... Harry as well?” I didn't know what to think, but it must’ve been good luck that we shared the same biology.

Serah looked down at her feet, somewhat distressed by the idea. “Yeah, O-Negative specifically, although don't get your hopes up. Despite all of this lot having it, only 7% of people worldwide have that blood type.”

“Oh.” That was kind of a downer. Something told me that the statistics weren't the only bothersome thing she'd wanted to discuss though, as she started talking science again without missing a beat.

“...And I wouldn't say we were 'immune'. No, by the way the infection spreads, and the way our bodies react to the virus... Of course, I'm only a student, but something this intricate could only be by
design
.”

I looked at her, almost expecting her to say she was kidding... but her face was solemn and grim. She wasn't one to joke about something like this. “...You think...”

She shook her head. “I don't think, I know. This infection was spread intentionally, even created using our blood type as a template. We aren't just immune; all O-Negatives have some unique bond with the virus..."

I returned my gaze to the ground, starting to feel a little groggy after the day I'd had as she continued on.

"Our genetic makeup instinctively fights back where others fail, until the virus leaves our bloodstream. That's what I discovered when I visited the Medical School, and unfortunately, that's how the O-Saints found out."

She seemed to feel guilty about her time with the blood gang, as though she was to blame for what happened. I knew it was much deeper than that, though. I tried my best to listen as Serah explained who the O-Saints really were.

"After they'd used me for my research, they began thinking that they were 'chosen by God to lead the new world' and all that crazy talk. They believe that those who can be infected are 'impure', and should be put down like dogs. That's why I had to leave, obviously. Bunch of nut-jobs.”

There wasn't much I could say in response. Honestly, I was still working on the whole 'immune' thing, trying to separate it in my mind from some kind of insane sci-fi superpower.

The idea that I would never turn into a Lost was certainly appealing, but in all truthfulness... it meant nothing, other than the fact that I wouldn't die as easily as most people. I could still starve to death, get shot or stabbed by other assholes, maybe even mauled by the infected.

“They aren’t superior. They’re just scared,” I noted, pinching my brow. “Burkley took advantage of them when they were weak, it’s not their fault.”

Without even looking, I could somehow feel Serah's smile beaming to the back of my head. “Right answer. Good to see you know what you're fighting against.”

Without even acknowledging it, we had both agreed to keep an eye on the O-Saints, and whatever their current game was. The Pastor would continue to 'test' for more people with O-Negative blood, forcibly using them to fulfill his own twisted desires.

From what Mitchell had preached, it seemed as though his group would assert dominance over anyone who wasn't born with the genetics to fend off the Lost. I couldn't have disagreed more with that ideology... No one has the right to look down on a survivor, regardless of what background they came from.

A lone figure emerged from the burning sunlight ahead of us, catching my eye. The shadow shuffled slowly past empty cars, grasping towards the air in front of it. A man. I stood up, almost realising it was calling me.

Serah left to check on the community centre’s survivors, and I approached the enigmatic man alone. His face didn't surprise me, as though I’d expected to see him here in this very place... at this time.

He reached for me, but I calmly pushed him back. I knew exactly what he wanted from me, but after the week I'd had, it seemed almost impossible to work up the energy.

I parted my lips, for a second rejecting the idea of what I wanted to tell him. Lost or not, I felt like I had to say it for myself at least.

“Beth… Beth’s doing fine. She's had a rough day, but... She's a survivor. I'll die before anything happens to her.”

The Lost man stopped for a moment, and I thought he maybe recognised the name. He’d followed her the whole way out here, after all.

There may have been some divine reason for his presence, but my faith in that idea was shattered when he lunged for me once more. Nothing more than a husk of the man I'd met in the train station, the one who had given his life to show me the way to survive.

I was glad that he attacked me just then, because it effectively erased any hope I had that the Lost could ever find their way again. Fixing my hands on either side of his head, I smiled peacefully for the first time since the world ended.

It may have been the decomposing body releasing bodily fluids, but I could've sworn that a tear rolled down his rotten face. I wouldn't have any of that.

“Thank you, Leo.”

I smashed my forehead against his, letting his blood splatter on the pavement before turning swiftly back to face the community centre. No, I wouldn't have any Lost showing signs of crying, of weakness. I could never let them imply, in any way, that they were victims of their own emotions.

Only the
living
have that right.

Harry sat there all day. Looking down on his first love's grave, covered in the blood of a murdered father. The Lost around him barely even noticed his presence; the stillness of the muscles in his body was not only paralysing, but loyal.

If he could stay there for one hundred years, would his love find his way home? The darkness enveloped him, and he knew that tonight he would receive no answer. For all intents and purposes, he may as well have been Lost.

A pitch-black figure approached the grieving boy. He’d watched silently for hours, and knowing the young man's heartache would be an open window, he was ready to pounce.

"Oh, I didn't mean to disturb you." The shadow joined his side. "I was incredibly sorry to hear about your boyfriend. Yes, it's always such a shame when someone so full of life is taken from us."

Harry identified the towering darkness as SP. Burkley, the corrupt and shameless policeman. "I'm in no mood, Burkley. They saw the real me... They freaked out. Ian, he killed himself... We had each other, and it still wasn't enough."

Seeing the situation's gory details, Burkley knew that he had him. Only to approach it would require some delicate and careful cunning.

"I heard from my acquaintance. The worst is yet to come, I’m afraid… and not everyone is suited to live in these darker times. Not ourselves, not Danny-boy, not even you."

Harry turned his head, wiping the unrelenting tears from his dehydrated face. "W-What does that mean? Do you know something?"

"I know a lot of things, kid. If only we’d been able to build our numbers back there, we might have stood a chance against the real enemy."

Harry pondered to himself for a moment. "You really think it can get worse than this? Why should I believe you, anyway?"

"I'd just like you to consider your options, that's all. You possess incredible strength, not to mention a special type of blood streaming through your veins. If you come with me, we can make full use of your abilities. If not, then I'm afraid Daniel, the little girl... All of them will suffer a similar fate."

The dark figure was joined by Pastor Mitchell, just as the moon had reached its peak. His mangled face only served to cast grim shadows on top of Ian's grave as he spoke.

"You’re safe in our hands, my child. We are superior... We are strong. We can change the world, maybe even create our own paradise atop the ruins of past sin. Soon, our kind will be all that’s left of the humanity you once knew."

Burkley silenced the preacher, who was always entirely too theatrical. "Come with us, Harry. We accept who you are. Your loss will only strengthen you, as we exact justice for this terrible betrayal. How would you like to become a God among men?"

Harry stared at his lost love's grave for a moment, then smiled upon it.

"
...What would you have me do?"

First things first, I would like to thank you for taking the time to read my debut novel!

This apocalyptic series has been several years in the making, and we’re not finished with Daniel and the gang yet… Keep your eyes open for
‘Only The Saints’,
which will be unleashed later this year!

Can’t wait that long?
Then click here to subscribe to Tyne Fiction’s newsletter!
I have free stories and exclusive chapters released on the regular, so don’t miss out!

If you wish to contact me directly, you can do so at
[email protected]
. Until next time, fellow Lost survivor!