The Black Tide: Rebellion (Tides of Blood - Post-Apocalyptic Book 2) Read online

  Baileigh Higgins

  The Black Tide - Rebellion

  First published by Baileigh Higgins in 2017

  Copyright © Baileigh Higgins, 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  First Edition

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  Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Author's Note

  The Black Tide III - Vanquish - Sample

  Cat's Eye - Join the Apocalypse

  About the Author

  Blurb

  Fight for what you believe in

  When an unstoppable disease wipes out 99 percent of the world's population, only a few are left to pick up the pieces. The immunes.

  After finding a new home, Ava works hard to keep those under her care safe and protected. She is confronted daily by new obstacles, while also battling to contain her grief over the loss of her lover, Brian. Nonetheless, she is determined to survive and carve out a new life for them all.

  But a new danger arises in the form of an old foe. One that threatens to destroy everything she has built. This time, Ava will have to fight for her freedom without losing herself in the process.

  A Post-Apocalyptic Novel about one young woman's struggle to survive while never losing sight of who she is and what is most important to her.

  Warning: Contains violence and strong language

  Dedication

  I'm dedicating this book to my sister, Shannon, for all her support and advice. You deserve it after listening to me going on forever about my books and pretending to love them all! You're the best.

  Prologue

  The Black Tide.

  That’s what we called it, for that’s what it was. An unstoppable beast that devoured mankind, sweeping across the continents in a tidal wave of death leaving behind only blackened corpses.

  Over the course of a few months, it killed millions, even billions. Then it mutated, becoming airborne. Ninety-nine percent of all human life ceased to exist.

  Except us. The Immunes. Last left standing.

  Life is different now. Harsh. Unforgiving. Lonely.

  But nothing is stronger than the heart of a survivor.

  Chapter 1

  I ran my hand along the handrail on the stairs, skimming the wood with a sense of remembrance. A thin film covered the surface and came free beneath my touch. Dust motes puffed into the air, shimmering in the sunlight.

  The last time I’d been here was with Brian. I’d accompanied him and his parents on a weekend break one summer. That weekend was among some of the best memories I had.

  Shrieks of laughter pulled my attention to the top of the stairs. I jogged up the steps, treading lightly, and entered the hallway on the second floor.

  It was a big house boasting five bedrooms. Still, I wondered how we’d all get along in one space. In essence, we were a bunch of strangers forced together by circumstance.

  Giggles emanated from an open doorway, and I peeked around the corner. Lexi and Sarah jumped on the beds, two singles on either side of the room. The sight prompted a smile from my lips, and I leaned against the doorjamb, folding my arms.

  “Having fun?” Shining eyes and rosy cheeks turned to me followed by more giggling. “So, I guess this is your new bedroom then?”

  “Can it?” Lexi asked. “Can I share with Sarah?”

  “Of course, sweet pea,” I answered, secretly relieved. While I didn’t mind bunking with Lexi, it would be nice to have a little privacy. Besides, I wanted her to spend more time with Sarah, especially because the other girl was older. Maybe she can teach her some responsibility.

  The loss of our mother at such a young age had caused a dramatic change in Lexi. At first, she'd become shy and withdrawn, clinging to my father's side with fierce desperation. Over time, she'd transferred most of that need onto me. In effect, I became her surrogate mother. It was both rewarding and draining.

  Over the past year, she'd crept out of her shell, and I'd watched as she regained her former boisterous and forthright nature, even through the tragedies that accompanied the Black Tide. Still, she remained dependent on me, and I hoped Sarah would be a good influence, perhaps guiding her into a more mature set of mind.

  Movement over my shoulder caught my eye, interrupting my thoughts. I turned my head. Lloyd looked at the two girls then offered me a crooked smile. “Guess their accommodation is all sorted out. What about yours? Picked a room yet?”

  I straightened up and shook my head, but my feet knew exactly where to go. Brian’s old room, diagonally across the girls’ room. The door was half shut. With hesitance, I reached out and pushed it all the way open. It swung wide on silent hinges, revealing the contents.

  The walls were painted a simple white in stark contrast to the ebony sheen of the wooden floorboards and ceiling. The faint aroma of polish hung in the air, a legacy from the last time cleaning staff had been here.

  My eyes flitted from the double bed with its spartan linen in navy blue to the built-in cupboards and full-length mirror. I drifted inside, the ache in my chest intensifying. Inside the closet were a few odds and ends. Light bulbs, extra blankets...and a shirt.

  I reached out and took it, my hand fisting in the material. It was a t-shirt, a ratty old thing left behind in haste. Pressing the cloth to my nose, I inhaled. It was still there, the faint smell of deodorant mixed with the essence of him. My hands shook, a knot of grief balling in my throat. Lloyd’s voice spun me around with a gasp.

  “You really love him, don’t you?” His face was expressionless, his eyes unwavering. “Brian, I mean.”

  My cheeks burned, and I tossed the shirt back into the cupboard. “Yes, I do.”

  He frowned. “What about Andy?”

  His question splashed into my face like a bucket of ice cold water. I bit back an angry retort. What business was my love life of his anyway? With an effort, I reined in my fury. Andy used to be his friend, after all. I supposed it was natural that he’d want to know. “I cared about Andy.”

  “But you didn’t love him.” Lloyd’s voice was cold.

  “I did. It was different with him. He was sweet and kind, easy to talk to.” I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to find the words to express my emotions.

  “So you used Andy.”

  “No! It wasn’t like that. I never...” I sucked in a breath. “Brian was gone, and I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. Andy was there for me, there when I needed him.”

  “How convenient.” Lloyd’s mouth turned down at the corners, a sneer forming on his lips. “He loved you, you know? More than you deserved.”

  With that parting shot, he turned and walked away. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and my breath hitched. I turned and crossed the floor. In front of the sliding doors, I paused, reaching out to part the curtains.

  Sunlight flooded the room, and I unlatched the doors. A blast of fresh air rushed into the room, washing out the stale air. I gasped, breathing deeply to fill my lungs and stepped onto the balcony.

  My hands gripped the railings, the knuckles turning white as I held back the shudders that threatened to rip me apart. All happiness at coming here, finding this refuge, had evaporated. Instead, I was filled with a mixture of grief and longing, guilt and self-loathing.

  I stared at the river in the distance, the deep green waters flowing past without thought or care. Tears ran down my cheeks and dripped onto my shirt. Memories surfaced and played off in front of my eyes like a movie on a reel.

  My mother walking out the door, handbag in hand, red hair shining in the light. That was the last time I saw her. My father, face thin and haunted, waiting for me with a cup of cold tea and porridge. That was the last time I saw him too. Andy, vital and alive one minute, dying in agony the next.

  Whatever Lloyd might think or say, I had loved Andy. More than words could express. His death had been one of the hardest things I’d ever had to experience. But Brian was different. He was special and always would be. My first love.

  My eyes wandered over the large enclosed yard, taking in its useful features. A lemon tree covered in blossoms, the rich dark earth that was perfect for growing things, a tool shed, and a borehole.

  At that moment, though, I found it hard to feel good about anything. I had lost so much, done so much, seen so much...things that could never be forgotten
. No matter how hard I tried.

  A dark head of hair appeared next to me, interrupting my pity party.

  Calypso.

  Her face was impassive, her dark eyes fixed on the horizon. I dashed at the tears on my cheeks, trying to compose myself. “Can I help you?”

  “I came to say thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “For saving me.”

  “It was nothing,” I replied. “You saved me too.”

  “Maybe.” She was silent for a moment then said, “I can't believe it was only yesterday.”

  I reached out a hesitant hand and placed it on her shoulder. “I'm sorry.”

  “Yesterday morning I was whole, clean, innocent,” she continued as if she hadn't heard me. “Today...today I'm less than me. I'm something else.”

  “That's not true,” I said. “You're still the same person you were before.”

  “I don't feel like me anymore.” Tears shimmered in her eyes.

  My heart twisted in sympathy. “You will again, just give it time.”

  “Time.” Her voice was bitter. “I've got nothing but time.”

  I bit my lip and tried again. “You're stronger than this. Don't let them win.”

  She shook her head. “I know you're right, but it's hard, Ava. So hard to see tomorrow.”

  “You're not alone. I'm here for you, whenever you need me. Together, we'll make it, you'll see.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “Of course. We're a family now, and family looks out for each other.”

  “I guess you're right.” She turned her head and gazed at me with a faint smile. “You’re a good person, Ava. Never forget that.”

  Her words struck hard, right at the root of my insecurities. Was I really a good person after everything I'd done?

  Calypso seemed to sense my feelings, and a frown marred the smooth skin between her brows. “Don’t listen to Lloyd. He’s hurting, that’s all. You had what he wanted, and now he’s lashing out.”

  With that cryptic remark, Calypso turned and walked away. I stared at her retreating back in confusion. What exactly did she mean by that? And when had she learned so much about Lloyd? The man was a total mystery to me, his sarcasm a wall that kept me at a distance.

  I sighed, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. This was going to be a lot harder than I'd thought. To have so many disparate personalities in one house, so many simmering tensions, and buried feelings. How can we ever make this work?

  Peals of girlish laughter drifted down the hallway, filling the house with life and light. My spirits lifted and my resolve hardened into steely determination. We had no choice. This was a new beginning for us, a chance at a real future. We’ll make it work. No matter what it takes.

  I dragged my suitcase over and unzipped it. One by one, I unpacked my belongings, the bits and bobs that made up my life. There wasn’t much. Clothing, toiletries, shoes; all of which I packed away with care into the cupboard.

  A framed photo went onto the bedside table. It was my favorite, taken on Christmas day and the last time our whole family was together. My fingers brushed over our faces. We looked so happy. A different time.

  A flashlight joined the frame on the table, a basic first aid kit going into the drawer along with a battered copy of paranormal short stories. I wasn’t much of a reader, but the creepy tales kept me entertained.

  My old phone went into the drawer as well, along with the charger and headphones. If we could get some power to the house, I’d be able to listen to music at night.

  The last thing I took out was the creased and battered photo of Brian and myself. The same one I’d taken from his house when I thought he was dead, fallen victim to the Black Tide.

  I stuck it to the mirror on the dresser. Now I’d be able to torture myself with longing every time I saw it. Still, I couldn’t help myself. I held onto the hope that somewhere out there, Brian was alive. Alive and well, and on his way here.

  Brian, please come back to me.

  I love you.

  Chapter 2

  Brian POV:

  I stared at the row of corpses that lay in front of me. Their last resting place was a shallow mass grave in the wilderness. Each was covered by a ragged sheet taken from their tents. The material rendered them anonymous, unknown. Yet, each form represented a face and a name, a person I'd once known even if only for a little while.

  Around me lay the place I'd called home for the past few weeks. It wasn't much. Just a tiny little village on the border of South Africa and Mozambique, remote and far from the nearest town. Mud brick houses with thatched roofs dotted the red earth around a rough communal square. Empty drying racks surrounded a cold fire pit. The inhabitants had long since fled, and I didn't blame them.

  At first, they ran from the refugees who streamed across the border in search of a miracle. A magical place where they could hide from the ravages of the Black Tide and the social and economic downfall that accompanied it. Then they ran from the soldiers who arrived to stem the tide of desperate humanity with guns and bombs and blood. People like me.

  It was all for nothing. The killing. The fighting. Everything. In the end, the virus won. It became stronger until it rode on the very currents of the air and infected everyone. Or almost everyone.

  “Should we say something? Pray?” Patrick asked. His shoulders were hunched, and his tall body seemed to fold in on itself. Purple shadows underscored his eyes, and his clothes reeked of marijuana, his drug of choice.

  “What's there to say?” Dustin asked. “They're all dead. Gone.” Next to the rail thin Patrick, he appeared solid, his shoulders broad and his hands thick and meaty. He wasn't known for his belief in the afterlife or God.

  They were my friends. Sort of. I supposed it was an alliance born of necessity rather than choice. I can't believe we're all that's left.

  I cleared my throat and prepared to say something. It was a funeral, after all. “They were good men and fought hard to the end. May God rest their souls.”

  Patrick uttered a mumbled amen, and Dustin gave a curt nod. We each grabbed a shovel and began the laborious task of covering the grave. It was brutal work made worse by the blisters that covered our hands from the digging.

  It had taken a long time to dig the grave. Time spent sweltering in the sun while flies buzzed around our faces and sweat burned our eyes. It would take another hour or two to fill in the hole. Still, it would have been wrong to leave our comrades to the animals, a sign of disrespect, and so we persevered.

  I focused on the task, feeling my muscles stretch and ache with each movement. The back of my neck and tips of my ears seared beneath the heat of the day, like a steak on the coals, and I grunted when a blister on my palm popped. The skin rubbed and chafed, and it felt like glass coated the surface. It was just one more pain to handle among a host of others.

  My blood covered the handle of the shovel and stained the wood in rust red. I ignored it. So much of the stuff had been spilled over this patch of dirt that a few more drops hardly mattered.

  It was still early, and the sun hung low on the horizon. Its light shone on the khaki tents that once housed a company of soldiers. The material flapped in the breeze, and empty cans and bottles littered the ground. A film of grit overlaid everything.

  Close to midday, we tossed in the last load of dirt and stamped it down. For a moment, we stood still, our eyes fixed on the lone cross we'd erected. Personal effects lay around it in a circle. Mementos of each person who'd died there and the loved ones they'd left behind. Faded photos, a locket with a piece of hair in it, even a toy soldier. It drove home the finality of our situation.

  The wind tugged at my collar, demanding that we move, and I dropped the shovel. After wrapping two cloths around my broken hands, I picked up the heavy duffel bag that lay waiting. “Come on. Let's go.”