by Ryan Casey
She cleared her dry throat, tensed her fists. Her heart pounded. Beside her, Rex turned around like he was checking their surroundings for threats.
It didn’t look like it was going to be possible to get in here.
But she had to be absolutely sure.
She walked to the door. Locked, of course. Looked around the side of the building, which was an end-terraced. A window, really high up, but not one she’d be able to access.
She sighed. As much as she knew this place would surely have something that could help Max, she was beginning to lose hope already.
Because where else was there to go?
The hospital?
That was going to be an absolute war zone.
But the more she thought about it, the more she started to realise it might just be her only choice.
She turned and went to walk away to see if there was anything else she could find when she saw someone walking towards her.
It was a man. Tall. Well built. Looked pale.
His eyes were bloodshot. And there were red patches on his white T-shirt.
Bloodstains.
He walked towards her with his fists clenched. Had a real look of purpose to his face. Almost like he was possessed with rage.
It was only when Aoife saw the kid behind him—one of the kids she’d run into back at Harold’s house—that her body went numb.
The boy’s father.
The boy Harold killed.
She stood there. Watching this man walk towards her. And as much as she wanted to stand her ground and speak to him, try and convince him what’d happened to the kid was an accident and that it wasn’t on her… instinct took hold immediately.
“Come on, Rex,” she said. “Now!”
And then she turned, and she ran.
“Stop her!” the man shouted. “She killed my boy. Stop her!”
Aoife ran. Ran down the street as fast as she could. Past fallen telegraph poles. Past broken glass. Past boarded up windows and people standing outside their homes.
She ran, and the man pursued behind her, and she realised she’d made the wrong call.
She should have just stood her ground. Should have just explained to him that this was all a big misunderstanding. That she wasn’t involved.
“Stop her! Now!”
She looked over her shoulder and saw three of them chasing her. All running after her. And she knew how this looked, now. She knew how this would go down. Mob rule. A man’s son had been killed. And it didn’t matter that Aoife hadn’t been remotely involved. It didn’t matter that it was all just a big mistake that got out of hand.
She was the enemy in their eyes.
And there was no law and order here to stop them.
She turned back ahead, her footing growing unsteady, when she stopped in her tracks.
There were more people ahead of her. Three of them. Standing there. One of them holding a baseball bat.
“Not another step,” the bald man in the middle said.
And as the footsteps approached, Aoife thought about staying put. She thought about standing her ground.
But the fear took over her.
That instinctive fear that this was trouble.
That she was in big, big trouble.
And she had to do something to get away from it.
Now.
She looked over to the narrow, terraced road on the left. Saw that it was empty of people, at least as far as she could see.
Then she looked back at the bald man.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said.
But she couldn’t do what he said right now.
She turned around and ran down the road.
“Stop her! Stop her right now!”
She powered down the road. A stitch crippled her ribs. Her legs were weak. Her heart raced, and she was exhausted.
But she just kept on going. Because she had to.
This felt like survival, just in the same way fleeing that falling plane felt.
It was exactly the same.
She kept on going until she reached an alleyway. Turned into it. Ran down it. Sprinted past the bicycles. Through the narrow corridor, which stank of piss.
And then she reached the gate at the bottom and realised it was locked.
“Shit,” she said. She shook it. Fuck. She should never have come this way. Should’ve stayed on the road.
She shook it harder. She could hear footsteps and voices getting closer. Rex panted beside her, clearly distressed, too.
“Come on,” she said, trying to untangle the chain wrapped around the gate. “Come on…”
The people appeared at the other end of the alleyway.
Blocked out the daylight.
“Shit,” Aoife said.
She scrambled around with the chain.
Her shaking hands tried to break it free as the footsteps got closer.
Closer.
“Come on,” she said. “Come…”
The chain came free.
The gate swung open.
She rushed through it, into the yard behind with its overgrown grass and broken concrete slabs.
Slammed the gate shut behind her.
Turned around.
Watched the people approach.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s…”
And then, when she turned, she slammed right into someone.
He was tall. Bulky. Had a mean look on his face.
But if one thing was for sure from looks alone, it was that this was most definitely the dad of the kid who’d killed Harold.
The ringleader of the group, Cody.
“Hello, love,” he said. Smiling. “Going somewhere?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Max, Moira, and Nathan sat in the lounge of Moira’s house and waited for whatever came their way.
It was quiet. Nobody was saying much of anything. Or maybe they were, and Max was just drifting in and out of consciousness too much even to notice. Harold was still out there somewhere, too. Nathan said he was going to go out and get his body so they could bury him. But clearly, the shock of what’d happened with Cody and the other kid had caught up with him. It’d caught up with everyone.
And now, Nathan sat with his arm around his mother. She cried. He just stared into space, wide-eyed, like a man who was haunted.
“Aoife,” Max said.
Nathan turned around. Looked over at him. Almost like he’d forgotten he was even in the room. “Huh?”
“Aoife,” Max said. “And Rex. Where did… Are they okay?”
Nathan nodded, sighed. “She… They left. To get you treatment. I told you this before.”
It hit Max, then. Had he told him already? He couldn’t remember. He still felt like shit. Shivery as hell. But not as bad as before. Still, he knew he couldn’t just take anything for granted. He might feel a little bit better now, but he had to be careful.
He sat up.
“You should stay down,” Nathan said.
“I’m okay.”
“But—”
“I’m okay, really. There’s… there’s some antibiotics at my house up the hill. Not the strongest stuff, but I do… I do feel a little bit better already. Some antibiotics. A few painkillers. And… and if it’s IV you’re worried about, I should have the kit to make a solution.”
Nathan frowned. “I… You have the kit to make IV solution at home? And—and you’re only just mentioning this now? But… but wait. Let me just get this straight. You literally have the kit to make a drip at home?”
“It’s… it’s not exactly the cleanest environment, I know, but it’s all we’ve got. Boil a five hundred mil brown bottle in distilled water for fifteen minutes or so. I’ve got a portable stove in the cellar, so that should do the trick. Throw… throw about half a bottle of sterile water in there. Again, I’ve got a load in the cellar in case of emergency. Mix together some salt crystals and dextrose in there. I’ve got chemicals in the shed. Sodium chloride. That should help also. The
n mix up whatever antibiotics you can find in there, top it up, and let it all dissolve and cool. After that, it’s just a case of administering the needle. It’s a gamble. But it shouldn’t be too hard.”
Nathan stared over at Max. Wide-eyed. “I’m a doctor. And… and I didn’t know any of this. How do you know all this stuff?”
Max sighed. “Let’s just say I’m interested in survival. And having the right tools for an emergency like this in a world without power always comes in handy.”
Nathan shook his head. Clearly a bit amazed. “I just… You know how much of a risk this is, right? You could get another infection.”
“And if we do nothing, this infection will only get worse. Get the drip pumping solution into me. As for Aoife… you let her go out there on her own? Especially with everything going on?”
Nathan shook his head. “My dad. I was… I—”
“There’s a warehouse about three miles west of here. Delivery compound. They keep their activities quiet. But I know from working security there once that they receive and deliver medical supplies to hospitals and pharmacies. I couldn’t think at first. Not when the infection started kicking in. But… but if you can help Aoife get there, you might be able to get what you need. And if you can’t… well, I guess I’ll just have to try myself.”
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Nathan said.
Max took a deep breath. He stood up. Felt like total shit. Wasn’t sure how far he’d be able to walk without collapsing.
But he was on his feet again. And that was something.
“The saline solution,” he said, running through it all again. “You… you get me hooked up to that. And then, as soon as you are, you get out there, and you try to find Aoife.”
Nathan shook his head. “I don’t—I don’t think this is going to work—”
“It definitely won’t work if we aren’t willing to try, okay?”
Nathan looked around at Moira. And she looked back at him, nodded.
“If we can help, then we should,” she said. “We don’t want any more death. We’ve seen enough.”
Nathan nodded back. Still had that haunted expression to his face.
He looked back at Max. “If this doesn’t work… you understand the consequences, right?”
“I understand the consequences of not doing anything at all, right now. So it’s the only choice we have.”
Nathan nodded. Looked down at the floor. “I’ll do what I can. But I can’t make any promises. Just… just please. Look after my mum, okay?”
Max nodded. The irony, because it was no doubt going to be her looking after him if anything. “Get what I need. Then get the supplies and get Aoife here before she gets herself into any trouble. Hopefully, we can do all that before we run into those kids again. Or their families. Because believe me, mate. I’ve seen those sorts before. Dealt with them my whole life. They aren’t the kind who let a grudge go lightly. Especially with no law and order.”
Nathan nodded back. The sheer mention of the kids seemed to make him turn even paler.
“Then I’ll… I’ll go,” he said.
He grabbed a black rucksack. Lifted it over his shoulders.
And then he hugged his mum tightly, a sole tear rolling down his face.
“I’ll come back for you, Mum,” he said. “I’ll come back for you.”
He walked over to the door.
Stopped.
Looked right back at Max.
“I’ll do everything I can to help you,” he said.
Max nodded back at him. Strangely, he actually believed him.
Nathan looked outside. Took a very visible deep breath.
And then he stepped out into the unknown.
If he knew exactly what he was walking into, he might’ve had second thoughts.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Aoife stared at the man standing before her, smirk on his face, and she knew immediately that it was Cody’s dad.
“You look like you’re in a hurry,” he said. That smile not dropping. “What’s the rush?”
Her heart raced. Rex barked and growled by her side. And behind her, as she stood in this dingy little yard at the back of the terraced houses, she could hear footsteps getting closer. And she could hear the shouting, too.
“Don’t let her go! She killed my son! She killed my fucking son!”
And Cody’s dad’s nostrils twitched when he heard that. His smile turned into a snarl, just for a split second.
And as Aoife stood there in the yard, with no escape, heart racing and panting after all the running and all the adrenaline, she lowered her head.
There was no getting out of this.
She was terrified. But there was no getting out of it.
“Hey,” Cody’s dad said. “Why so quiet all of a sudden? You weren’t quiet before when you were running down that alleyway there. What’s got into you?”
“Please,” Aoife said.
And then he laughed. “‘Please’? That all you’ve got? ’Cause far as I can see, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do. A hell of a lot of explaining.”
“She killed him. Fucking bitch. You killed him! You killed—”
Aoife didn’t hear the rest because she felt a smack against the back of her head and fell to the concrete below.
She felt a few punches against her back. Clutched her head.
And as she turned around, listening to the commotion above, to Rex’s barking away, she saw a couple of people holding the man who’d chased her back.
“Frank, calm it,” Cody’s dad said.
“I can’t calm it, James,” he shouted. “She killed my son!”
“But you acting like this isn’t going to get us anywhere,” James said. “I know you’re hurt. We’re all hurt after what’s happened. But we need to know what went down. Where’s my Cody, anyway?”
“He went back,” one of the kids who came to the house said. “He went back up there. Said he was gonna teach ’em a lesson.”
James narrowed his eyes. “Hmm. Then maybe we should all take a trip up there and come to some kind of understanding.”
Aoife lay there on the ground. She was surprised how composed and measured James seemed, especially compared to the others.
But there was an element of him she couldn’t quite figure out.
A sense that this was all just a game to him. That he wasn’t really as emotionally invested in this as he was making out.
Like it was all a performance.
He held out a hand to Aoife, as behind, Sam’s father—Frank—carried on trying to fight his way free of the onlookers’ grips.
“Come on,” James said. Smile on his face. Keeping his calm. Acting like he was Aoife’s only ally right now as the crowd of judgemental glances stared at her. As people spat at her. As they all glared at her like she was a monster.
She took his hand. Half-expected him to drop her back to the ground.
But he didn’t.
He pulled her to her feet.
“Now, we ain’t some kind of savage mob. Why don’t you tell your side of things? Why don’t you tell us what went down?”
“Not interested in what that bitch has to say,” one of the crowd said. “She’s a child killer!”
Aoife looked around at them all. They weren’t settling. And she got the sense there was nothing she could say that would abate them. Nothing that would win them over.
She looked at James. As much as she disliked Cody, she thought his father seemed like her best chance right now.
“I… My friend. He got injured yesterday.”
“Don’t give a fuck about your friend!” someone shouted.
“Please,” James said, raising a hand and shaking his head. “Let’s not lose our shit here. We don’t know the ins and outs of what happened. Not exactly. Go on.”
Aoife closed her burning eyes and took a few breaths. Beside her, Rex continued to bark away. “My friend’s sick. That’s why I’m here. I came to get antibiotics for him. He’s
got a nasty infection.”
She ignored the jeers of the crowd and went on.
“Something happened. One of… A group of kids. They put a brick through the window. There was trouble. Trouble between the kids and this man, Harold. The guy who owns the place. There was a scuffle. One of the kids got… they got shot.”
“My son,” Frank barked, saliva trickling down his chin. Tears in his red eyes. “My son got shot.”
“And I’m sorry,” Aoife said, finding strength now. Courage. “I’m sorry for what happened. Really. But… but this doesn’t solve anything. And what happened to Harold doesn’t solve anything, either.”
“What happened to Harold?” James asked.
Aoife saw his body lying there beneath the trees.
The bloodied holes where his eyes were.
And then he saw James in front of her—father of the boy she was certain had killed Harold—and a shiver crept across her body.
“Somebody murdered him,” she said.
Gasps from the crowd. Tuts.
“She’s lying,” somebody said.
“Should beat her the hell up for what she’s done.”
But James kept his focus on Aoife. It’s like she could tell what he was getting at. Understand what she was implying. Without her outright saying it.
But then he said it himself. “And who did it?”
Aoife looked around. She saw the kids standing there, heads down.
“They saw,” she said. “They—they can tell you how it went down.”
“Look at me,” James said, moving her cheeks so she was facing him. “Look at me and tell me what went down. Who did it?”
She shook her head. Bit her lip. “I’m not making accusations. But…”
“Who did it?”
“It was Cody,” Aoife said. “The one who calls himself Cody.”
More gasps. More tuts.
And then James’ shoulders slumped.
A smile crossed his face. Like he understood. Like it all made sense.
“Cody killed a man, you say?”
“He murdered him. It was a mistake, and he murdered him.”