by Ryan Casey
“Are you a doctor?” Jenny asked.
Jack laughed. Shook his head. “No, I er… I did a medicine course when I was younger. Started one, anyway. Learned a few basics here and there.”
“If you did a medicine course then why are you not a doctor now?” Jenny asked.
Jack scratched the back of his neck. “I er… Just one of those things. Didn’t enjoy it all that much.”
“I don’t think you’d be a good doctor anyway,” Jenny said.
Jack raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”
Jenny half-smiled. Shook her head. Didn’t elaborate.
They sat in this ditch a little longer, mostly silent. Jack listened to the sounds from the roads as the sun began to set, visibility began to dampen. He wasn’t looking forward to nighttime. The daylight was one thing, but the dark… they needed to find somewhere safe. Somewhere to spend the night. Somewhere that wasn’t here.
“Come on, kids,” Jack said. He pushed aside the branches above them. Stretched as he climbed back to his feet. No idea how long they’d been sitting in that ditch, only that it felt like every second alive was something special now. Like he was on borrowed time.
“Will Simon have hurt?” Sam asked. “And… and the lady. The lady who the men were ripping up with the blood all on her. Would she… would it hurt?”
Jack looked back at him. Sam still had that apprehension in his face. That worry. Then again, he couldn’t blame the kid. Couldn’t blame either of them. They’d been torn away from their mum. Seen horrible things. Watched their stepdad get stabbed by a stranger.
A stranger that was their dad, sure. But he couldn’t tell them that. Tell them that, and it became real. Too real.
“Don’t think like that,” Jack said. He helped Jenny up, who was walking a bit better now, albeit with a limp. “You… We just need to look forward now. Find somewhere to spend the night. Something to clean your hand.”
“Are you staying with us now?” Sam asked.
Jack stared at his kids. Stared at them, blinked a few times to check they were actually really there. That he was actually stepping up for once, being a dad. He became very aware of what life was now: a series of milestones. Looking at his phone, seeing no service, hearing the distant explosions and smelling the burning, that only confirmed it to him. A series of milestones: find somewhere for the night. Find some food. Find some water.
But most of all, he realised what his ultimate goal was.
To keep his children safe, however long that might be for.
And then when this thing all ended—which it would, because everything ended someday—he’d hand them over to social services or a near relative, and everything would be back to normal again.
Jack smiled. Nodded at Sam, and at Jenny. “Staying with you for now.”
He held a hand out. Held a hand out to each of them.
They took both of his hands.
They walked.
EIGHT
“What will we do when it’s dark, Jack?”
The three of them walked through the trees, out over a patch of abandoned grass that seemed a million miles away from civilisation even though it was less than a mile from the Fulwood suburbs. The smell of charred buildings, the occasional scream, both reminded Jack of just how dangerous a situation they were in. Reminded him that, no matter what, there was no such thing as safe, not right now.
And judging by the way the sun was getting bigger, more orange as it set, things were about to get a whole lot more dangerous.
“I’m tired,” Sam said, traipsing through the long grass. “And I need a drink.”
“You always need a drink,” Jenny said. She wasn’t limping so badly anymore. She was lucky she’d only twisted her ankle a little. Got away with it really. “And then you always need a wee whenever we’re out because you’ve had so much to drink.”
Sam frowned at his sister. “Do not.”
“Yes you do.”
Jack kept on walking, kept quiet, as his kids bickered behind him. Up ahead, he could see the flickering of house lights. His eyes were bad, but he swore he could see curtains twitching too.
“We need to find somewhere to stay. Somewhere where we can lay low for the night. And then we’ll get your hand washed there and… and get you to a hospital tomorrow if we can.”
Jack picked up his pace a little. He didn’t like how quickly darkness was advancing. Didn’t like that the voices of people, the echoing of footsteps, were getting closer. Staying outside for the night was becoming a very strong possibility. And it wasn’t summer anymore. It was September. He could see his breath clouding in front of him. Sleeping outside wouldn’t be pleasant, especially not with those runners lurking around.
“And then what?” Sam asked. “What do we do then?”
Jack’s neck was itching. “I don’t know yet. We figure it out as we go.”
“That doesn’t sound a very good plan,” Jenny said.
“Yeah? Well I’d like to hear if you have a better one.”
Jenny lowered her head. Kept her mouth shut. Followed Jack.
He turned back around. He was making steady progress with his kids, and that’s how he wanted to keep it. He’d told them his name. They hadn’t picked up on how he knew their names yet. And they seemed to trust him, kind of. Although they did seem a bit shaken up about some of the things they’d seen, but that was natural, surely.
He was making progress. But only steady progress.
Steady progress was all he wanted. Nothing long-term.
He squinted ahead into the dark. There was a building up ahead, right at the edge of the field. Looked like a barn, or a big shed, something like that. From what Jack could see, it looked clear enough. Might provide decent shelter for the night.
What else was he supposed to do? Break into a house where all the windows were smashed in anyway? Wander back into the suburbs, the only place he’d seen those glass-eyed runners?
“You kids see that building up there?”
Sam squinted. “I… Is it a shed?”
“It’s a barn, silly,” Jenny said. “Should’ve worn your glasses, speccy.”
Jack smirked. “Takes after his…” He let that sentence hang. Went a bit hot in the face for coming so close to saying it. “How’s it look to you? It look clear?”
Jenny stared at the barn as they closed in on it, the sky getting ever darker, squeals increasing in volume. She shrugged. “Looks alright to me. But we won’t know ‘til we get inside.”
Jack took in a shaky breath. Nodded. “We’ll take a look. We can’t sleep out here tonight. It isn’t… Nowhere’s safe, but not out here especially.”
“You’re not a very funny guy,” Jenny said. “Simon was a funny guy.”
Jenny’s words sparked a twinge in Jack’s chest. They shouldn’t have, and he couldn’t really understand why, but they did. “Yeah well I’m not Simon. And there’s not a lot to joke about right now.”
Jenny puffed out her lips. Surprisingly calm and composed about the whole situation. Maybe kids would be. Maybe they were trained to adapt better than adults. Or maybe it was just delayed shock, which Jack was similarly sure he was going through.
They got closer to the barn. Slowed down as they got there. It was almost fully dark now, so it was near impossible for Jack and his short-sightedness to see if anything was around. He figured he’d know about it if there was, only then it’d be too late.
“Eurgh! Look at that!” Sam said. He hopped back.
“What you whinging about now?” Jenny asked.
Jack looked over the ground where Sam was pointing. Tried to figure out what it was.
And then he saw it.
No, he saw them. Felt them squidging, their bones cracking beneath his shoes.
There were crows on the ground. Some of their feathers had been peeled away, pale white skin on show. There were loads of them. An absolute mountain of them. And looking back—thinking back—Jack thought he remembered stepping on a few crunc
hy things in the long grass just before. He hadn’t heard any birds either since earlier today. Sure, he was hardly concentrating on birdsong. But now, he could hear nothing but deathly silence from the trees. The ever-present chatter of the birds was something you took for granted, only realised it was gone when it really was gone.
“Was this the bad people?” Sam asked.
“Ssh,” Jenny said. She propped her finger over her lips as Jack approached the ageing, unlocked wooden door of the barn.
“Sorry,” Sam whispered. “Was it the bad people?”
Jack held his breath. His heart thumped in his chest. Whatever was behind this door, he was facing it one way or another. He listened. Listened closely for a noise. Listened for a sound, but —nothing.
“Stay behind me,” Jack whispered. “I’m gonna take a look.”
He grabbed the rusty metal handle. Started to pull it aside.
Sam’s hand touched his left arm. Made him flinch.
“What if the bad people get you?” he asked. Worry in his eyes. Apprehension in his face. “What if… what will we do?”
Jack gulped. Lump grew in his throat. He wanted to say something. Something reassuring. All he could do was force a pained smile. Shake his head.
He looked back at the barn door, held his breath again, and opened it up.
The first thing that hit him was the smell. Horse shit, no doubt about it, ghastly and strong. Reminded him of Candice. She used to always waffle on about how she loved the smell of the countryside. Smelled fresh. Smelled healthy.
To Jack, it just smelled like shit.
“You see anything?” Jenny whispered.
Jack squinted. Squinted, as he crept in through the barn door. Looked to the left, to the right. Nothing, nowhere.
There was a light switch on the right. He reached for it. Waited a second before clicking it, scared of what he might see.
When he did, a bare bulb dangling down the middle of the barn sparked to life.
He thought he saw something at first. Thought he saw something twitching in the corner, but there was nothing there. Nothing but hay—lots of hay. A few splotches of horse shit, but nothing they couldn’t handle.
It was clear. That was the main thing.
“Woah!” Sam said. His little face lit up. He walked over to a mound of hay and climbed on top of it, not caring much for his cut hand anymore. He placed his hands on his hips. Lifted his arms. “King of the castle!”
Jack quickly checked behind all the mounds of hay. Nothing in here. Nothing at all. The hay felt alright too. Soft enough to sleep on, not that he was getting any sleep tonight.
He looked back at his kids. Looked at Sam perched on the end of the hay. At Jenny, standing by the open barn door, staring out over the field.
“Come in now, Jen. Don’t want anyone seeing the light.”
“Who are those people?”
Jack stopped beside Jenny. His body froze. Stomach wobbled. “Which people?”
She lifted her arm. Pointed into the distance, across the field.
“Those.”
Jack looked up. Looked into the barely light sky, the sun making its final descent.
And then he saw them.
The line of them—no, the circle of them, all blurry silhouettes heading in the direction of the barn.
Surrounding the barn.
NINE
“Step back into the barn. Slowly.”
Jack’s heart raced as he watched the blurry silhouettes approach the barn. They were coming from the field up ahead, just about visible in the dark. They were coming from the left. Coming from the right.
They were coming from everywhere.
“But what are they gonna do?” Sam asked. “What are they—”
“Back into the barn. Now.”
Jack got a nasty sickly tang in his mouth as he stepped back slowly, as he hit the switch and killed the lights. A taste he always got when he was scared. A taste he didn’t like to admit he’d got a fair few times back when he was in prison, but anything else would be lying.
“They’re the bad people,” Sam said, hiding behind a mound of hay. “Are the bad people gonna hurt us?”
Jenny’s bottom lip was going now. “They’re going to get us like Mum and Simon. They’re going to—”
“Just shut up,” Jack snapped. Didn’t have time to feel bad about shouting. He could think about that later.
For now, all he could think about was what to do next, now the barn was being surrounded. The next step.
He listened to the footsteps of the runners, who were merely staggering now as they stalked in on him and his children. It was getting darker outside. Soon, it would be completely dark.
And here they were, cornered in a fucking barn.
Jack closed the barn door. Gently brought the doors shut. Wasn’t sure if he’d made the right call in doing so, but what else could he do? They were being surrounded. Circled. There was nowhere else to go. Unless there was a way out the back of the barn that runners weren’t approaching, they were trapped in here.
Least he could do was make sure his kids weren’t too scared when the glazed-eyes beasts came knocking.
Jack stepped across the slightly damp floor, the smell of horse shit ranker than ever. It was pitch black in this barn now he’d closed the door. He ran to the back of the barn. Rubbed his hand around the wall. Looked for a door—some kind of opening. Anything.
There was nothing.
He turned around. Faced the front of the barn again. Just up ahead, by the mound of hay, he could hear his children sobbing. He could hear Jenny muttering things to Sam—reassuring words, calming words.
And over the top of these reassuring, calming words, Jack could hear the footsteps cracking across the skeletons of dead birds outside, getting closer.
He walked over to his children. Walked, his mind blank, running on nothing more than adrenaline. He crouched beside his kids. Crouched behind the hay.
“It’s okay, Sam,” Jenny said. “Don’t cry. No point ever crying.”
“But I’m not strong like you,” Sam mumbled.
Jack felt a growing lump in his throat as footsteps got closer to the barn door. As scratching noises worked their way across the wooden sides of the barn. He prepared for a spark to ignite. For the barn to go up in flames, just like all the houses had.
Shit. He was going to die in here. He was going to be burned alive in here.
Burned alive with his children.
He wrapped his arm around Sam and Jenny. They flinched away at first, but then they let him. Jenny arched her head right under Jack’s chin. He could feel her tears, very lightly, but she was being so quiet about them as not to scare her brother, so brave.
Jack breathed in, smelled the sweat and blood from his daughter’s hair. But beneath that sweat and blood, he could smell a sweetness. A sweetness he remembered right back from when she was just a baby. When he’d kiss her on her fluffy head. That gorgeous smell that brought back memories of better times. Times when he thought maybe he could be a dad.
Times when he was deluded.
“Just… Let’s just stay very still,” Jack said, as footsteps wandered just outside the barn, as the rattles against the side of the wooden building got louder, more frequent. He closed his eyes. Leaned in to Jenny, to Sam. “Let’s just… just think about something nice. Like the football. You like Chelsea, don’t you?”
Sam didn’t reply with words. He just nodded his head. Sobbed.
The sounds of the rattling on the barn walls got louder, so loud that Jack wasn’t sure if Jenny had said something or not. The scratching intensified.
“You… who’s your favourite player?” he asked.
A pause from Sam. A sniff. “John Terry,” he said.
“John Terry. That’s… that’s a good choice.”
He realised he was holding his kids very tightly. Realised he was shaking. There was an emptiness inside him that he felt filling up. A feeling he hadn’t felt in so many ye
ars all of a sudden coming to life.
Yes, he was going to die here. But he was going to die with his kids.
He was going to die a father.
He was going to die exactly what he swore he could never be.
He tried to stop himself shaking. Didn’t want his voice quivering. Didn’t want his kids to think him weak. “You know, I…” He wanted to tell them. Tell them who he was. Tell them, right here, not to worry because Daddy was here and he had them and—
The scratching stopped.
The footsteps rustled away. Fast.
Silence.
Jack kept still. Kept on gripping hold of his kids. They were whimpering. Jenny was breathing heavily. Sam was still shaking.
He lifted his head. Lifted it and looked over at the barn door. Were they screwing with them? Were they gonna come barging through that door at any minute?
His legs shook with trepidation. Shit. Maybe they’d set a fire. Maybe they were running away so they wouldn’t get burned.
But the seconds passed. The seconds became minutes. And still, there was no burning smell. No sounds. Nothing.
“Have the bad people gone now?” Sam whispered.
Jack didn’t want to answer for fear of jinxing the outcome. He raised up. Patted Sam on his head. “You just… you two wait here a sec.”
He crept over to the barn door. Tried to make it so his shoes didn’t make a sound as they pottered along the concrete floor. How could the sound just have stopped? And the footsteps—they’d gone away fast. Had they run away? Why’d they run away?
What had they run from?
Tingling through Jack’s body. Something worse than the runners? Didn’t bear thinking about.
He stopped at the door. Pressed his ear against it, a slobber of damp wood sticking to his ear. No sounds outside. No screaming, no shouts, no footsteps, no birdsong, nothing. He moved away. Placed the back of his hand against the metal handle. Cold as anything. Not burning.
He wrapped his fingers around it. Held his breath, readying himself for a crowd of runners to be waiting for him outside, for them to swarm in with smiles on their angry faces and tear him and his family apart.