by Ryan Casey
But maybe it wouldn’t even matter anyway.
Not if James was as angry as he looked.
Not if he got the revenge Max knew he would be craving because he’d been there himself.
“Why?” James shouted.
“Cody died on the table,” Max said. “We’re sorry for that. Really. But as much as you stand there and play the good guy here, he should never have come here in the first place. And nothing disguises the fact that he killed Moira’s husband. In cold blood. And he came back here and looked like he was ready to kill again. You’d have done the same in our shoes.”
James looked a little speechless about that. Like he was expecting apologetic drivel from Max, and it surprised him to hear him speaking so frankly.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done in your shoes,” James said, shaking his head. “But… but nothing changes the fact your people killed my son. Killed Frank’s son.”
“I lost a son once,” Max said. “A son and a wife. Murdered. I know how it feels.”
“Then you’ll know why I can’t just let this go.”
Max was about to argue, about to protest. But then he just nodded. Because he got it. Really, he did. He didn’t like James. There was something truly off about him. Before he’d found Cody’s body, there had been an air of performance about him.
But he was still a father. A father who’d lost his son.
And for all his flaws, Max couldn’t get past that fact.
“I know,” he said.
“Max?” Moira said.
But Max ignored her. Kept his focus on James.
“I know you won’t be able to let this go. I know you’ll want to hunt down everyone who had any kind of involvement with what happened. And I get that. Really, I do. But at the same time… you have to hear me when I say it won’t get you anywhere. Aoife’s a good person. I believe her when she says she killed in self-defence. Nathan, I don’t know well, but he seems a good lad. He’s looked after me today. And he… I truly believe he will have tried to save your son. And regretted what happened. But you’ve got to remember that boy plucked the eyes out of his father. You’ve got to remember what kind of headspace he’s operating in.”
James nodded. Like he was truly mulling over Max’s words. “And you?”
“What about me?”
“You. Moira, here. What about you two?”
Max looked over at Moira, and he sighed. “Moira’s just lost her husband. She’s on the verge of losing her son. I think she’s been through enough.”
“And yourself?”
Max turned around, looked at James, and shrugged. “I’ve done plenty in my life that I’ll be judged for, one day. If today’s that day… then so be it.”
James stood there, narrowing his eyes. Looked like he couldn’t figure Max out. Max wasn’t trying to dick with him or anything. Wasn’t trying to throw him.
He was just being honest.
Because any other approach wasn’t gonna get anyone anywhere at this stage.
“I want to like you,” James said, wiping a tear from his face. “Like, I know that sounds mad. I know it sounds crazy after everything that happened. But I want to like you.”
“I wish I could say the same about you.”
“Ha,” James said, shaking his head. “See, there it is. There’s that honesty all over again. Fuck.”
He turned around. Buried his head in his hands.
And he walked around the room aimlessly, muttering things under his breath.
Like he was trying to make sense of everything that had happened.
And everything that was going to happen next.
“I want to like both of you,” James said. Facing away from Max and Moira now.
“You don’t have to like us,” Max said. “You just have to see what the best option is here.”
“And what is the best option?”
“You let Aoife and Nathan go. You let Rex go. You go your way; we go ours. We end this, and we speak no more of it. But we remember it. So we never make the same mistakes again.”
James looked over at Max, a blank stare on his face. He didn’t say anything, not for what felt like ages.
And then he finally broke the silence.
“It’s like I said. I want to. Really, I do. But there’s only one way we’re going to remember the consequences of our actions here.”
He walked across the room.
Over to Moira.
Dragged her to her feet.
Max’s fists tensed. “Hey.”
“You come with me, and she won’t get hurt,” he said. Arms around her throat.
Max gritted his teeth. Stood his ground. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“You come with me. Just like I said. And she won’t get hurt. Simple as that, okay? And I mean it, too. Really, I do. You have my word.”
Max looked at Moira, who stared back at him, wrinkly old hands around James’ tattooed arms.
“Where are you taking us?” Max said.
James smiled. “I’m going to take you back to my home. I’m going to bury my boy. And then I’m going to show you both exactly what justice looks like in the new world.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Max led James and Moira out of the house, and he knew he had to do something.
Fast.
It was freezing outside the house, but he was dripping sweat. His vision seemed a little blurred, the trees not quite in focus. He could see colours drifting across his gaze and taste blood and vomit at the back of his throat.
And all the time, there was this lingering nausea.
This nausea that seemed to be growing stronger.
That threatened to take over him.
That made him weaker and weaker and weaker…
“Walk,” James said, dragging Moira along behind Max. “If you need a break, you ask me for a break. But until then, you walk. Understand?”
Max looked around at him as he held his arm around Moira’s throat. The way she gripped onto his arm at all times. She was fighting initially. Struggling. But now, the fear of what might happen to Nathan—to her son—was strong, and it seemed like this sense of defeat had crept in.
“Hey,” James said. “Eyes ahead. I told you to walk, so you’d better fucking do it, understand?”
“Don’t hurt her,” Max said.
“I told you. Walk, and she won’t get hurt. I’m a man of my word, mate. Now go. I want to get you back, and I want to bury my son.”
“And then what?”
James’ eyes lit up, just for a second. Like a spark of life had cut right through the grief. “And then you’ll find out. But for now, walk. Walk, and you’ll be okay. You’ll get whatever meds you need. I promise you.”
He heard James’ words, and he turned and walked. Because for as much as he didn’t trust him, as much as he feared what was going to happen, and as much as he felt like no good was going to come of this… well, what felt like a frigging death march… there was still a sense that James wasn’t lying. That he was sincere.
But Max had to look for an opportunity.
He had to look for a chance.
And all the while, his body felt like it was giving up on itself as he clambered down the slope, through the trees, closer and closer to the judgement at the estate below.
“When you found Cody’s hoodie and his knife,” Max said.
“Don’t say his name.”
“When you found your son’s hoodie and knife. You were… you were calm.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“You knew we had Cody, you said. And yet, you were still calm. It just seems weird, is all. If someone had my son, there’s no fucking way I’d just wait patiently for a trade to go down.”
He heard shuffling.
Turned around.
And then, before he knew it, James was on top of him, wrestling him to the ground.
Tightening his grip around his throat.
“He’s my boy. He’s my boy, and I
loved him. And don’t you ever fucking suggest otherwise, okay? Or I’ll rip your throat out. I’ll rip it out right here, and we can be done with this.”
“Please,” Moira said. “Stop this.”
“Shut up! Do you understand, tough man? Do you hear me? Not another word. Just walk. Okay?”
And as much as Max wanted to stand up for himself, as much as he was never one for standing down… he found himself on the brink right now.
Found himself fully aware that he was going to have to comply. For now, at least.
Because if he didn’t, James didn’t look like the sort of guy who was going to mess around.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Max said.
“Good,” James said, climbing off him. Brushing his hair back. “Good. Then do it. Get the fuck up and do it.”
Max watched James grab Moira again. And as he lay there on the ground, heart racing, as strong as he’d always prided himself as being, he had a sudden realisation that he felt weak right now. Desperately weak. Like dragging himself back to his feet was going to be a challenge in itself.
“What you waiting for?” James said.
Max gritted his teeth. “I can’t… I can’t stand.”
James frowned. “You what?”
“I feel… The infection. I think it’s… I think it’s getting worse. I can’t stand.”
“Fuck’s sake,” James said, shaking his head. “What do you want? A piggyback?”
“Might be my only choice.”
“Like fuck am I carrying you. Get up.”
“I’m trying to get up.”
“Try fucking harder.”
He saw the way James tightened his grip around Moira’s throat.
Saw her eyes widen just a little.
And then he gritted his teeth, and he sighed.
He tried to push himself up.
Tried to stand.
But then his knees just buckled underneath him, and he fell back to the ground.
“For God’s sake,” James said. All of that calm, cool composure was gone now. He seemed like a man possessed. “You can’t do any better than that? Really?”
“I need a hand.”
“You can swivel.”
“I need a hand, or I won’t be going anywhere.”
James stood there. Stared down at Max.
And as time dragged on, as the silence dragged on, he eventually shook his head and sighed.
“You don’t move a muscle,” he said to Moira.
He walked over to Max.
Stood right over him.
Stared down at him like he was a piece of dirt.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” he said. “But it’ll be worth it. In the end, it’ll be worth it.”
He held out a hand.
Max took a deep breath.
And then he grabbed it.
And with all his strength, he yanked James to the ground.
Pulled him down.
Smacked his head against the solid rock beside him.
And then he pulled back his fist, and he punched him.
Hard.
James lay against the rock.
Blood trickling out of his head.
Eyes closed.
Twitching.
And Max stood there, shaking.
Weak, shaking, and unsure if he could move another muscle.
“Max,” Moira said.
She rushed over to his side.
Looked down at James as he lay there.
Unconscious. Or dead. Max wasn’t sure.
It didn’t matter.
Not now.
All that mattered was getting to the estate.
Getting to Aoife and Rex and Nathan.
Getting…
He felt a sudden sickening jolt right through his body.
Went dizzy.
Almost lost his footing.
“You need to get back home,” Moira said. “You—you aren’t—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Max said.
He stared down the hill.
Stared towards the estate.
“We’re getting our people back, and we’re ending this,” Max said. “Even if it kills me.”
And then, as much as his rapidly weakening body resisted, he walked.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Max walked down the slope towards the estate and tightened his grip around the knife.
It was afternoon. Sunny. Today had been long. Eternal. He couldn’t tell whether he was cold or hot anymore. Just that he didn’t feel good. Felt rough as hell, in all truth. Figured he’d probably drop dead the second he got back home, the second he was done.
But there was something he had to do first.
He had to try to save Aoife, Nathan, and Rex from whatever fate awaited them.
He looked back up the slope, up the hills. He’d fought free of James and left him up there. Taken Cody’s knife off him. He didn’t know if he was dead or unconscious, just that he’d smacked his head really bad, and that alone should buy him more than enough time.
“Well?” Moira said. “What’re we waiting for?”
Max looked at Moira, and he sighed. “You should go home.”
“Go home? You kidding me? My bloody son’s there. Like I’m going to just go home.”
Max opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. “Doesn’t sound like I’m gonna have much luck convincing you.”
“Too bloody right you aren’t. I’ve lost my husband today. I’m not losing my son, too. And I’ll tell you what. If something does happen… well. I’ll take a bullet for that lad, I will. I always said I would. Never expected I’d be in a situation where I might have to. But I would.”
Max nodded. Thought about David and the lengths he’d go to in order to protect his son if he could. “I know the feeling.”
“So we need to figure out how we’re going about this. We can’t exactly just wander in and take them, can we? There’s gonna be a lot of angry people around the estate. And they aren’t gonna take lightly to this. Especially if they find out about the psycho kid’s dad.”
Max swallowed a lump in his throat. Moira was right. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. He knew it could get very messy, very fast.
Which was partly why he’d brought his knife down here from the house. It was a hunting knife. Not entirely legal. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. After all, this was a civilised country. He was a former army medic and a former police officer, not some kind of thug.
And yet… the whole landscape of law and order and justice seemed to have changed overnight.
And the longer things went on without power, the more lawless things were going to get.
He turned to the estate. He could see the tops of the houses from here. He swore he could hear voices off in the distance, too. Shouting. A couple of people—kids, presumably—laughing.
“So, we’ve established I’m coming with you,” Moira said. “But we haven’t established what the bloody hell we’re gonna do when we get there. Any wise ideas, genius?”
Max sighed. “I don’t see that we have much choice other than to try and blend in and figure out where they’ve taken Aoife, Nathan, and Rex.”
“That’s not gonna be much use, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“These estates. They’re tight-knit. Everyone knows everyone. You really think we can just saunter in and blend in, just like that?”
Max nodded. Moira had a point. And a bloody good point at that. “I don’t see what other option we’ve got. We’re not in a position to go in all guns blazing. We need to figure out where they’re being held, first off. When we’ve got that far, then we can start thinking about how we’re going to get them out of there.”
“Well, we’re going to have to think fast,” Moira said. “Because you look like crap if you don’t mind me saying. And I’m just not sure how much life you’ve got left in you.”
Max grunted. He did feel like shit, of course. But
he’d done well to make it this far. Maybe the infection wasn’t as bad as he thought. Maybe the antibiotics were kicking in already. Didn’t matter. He’d made it this far, and he’d make it even further if it were the last damned thing he did.
“No choice but to head a bit closer,” Max said. “You sure you’re up to this?”
Moira looked at Max like he’d stepped on her toe. “Max, I’ve lived long enough to know when it’s one of those times where you step back or one of those times where you fight. And right now is one of those times to fight. I’m coming with you. Whether you like it or not. And besides. You can’t even accuse an old woman of slowing you down. Not the way you’re limping about.”
Max smiled at that. Still amazed him just how tough this woman was. Just how hard she was, despite everything that’d happened to her so recently.
He looked around at the estate up ahead.
He was about to walk when he noticed something on the road, just beyond the trees.
There was a delivery van.
DPU Deliveries.
Red and white van.
The van door was open.
“What’s got you all frozen all of a sudden?”
Max’s heart started to beat a little harder.
“James said to take Aoife and Nathan back to his place and lock them in his loft, right?”
“Something like that. Why?”
Max stared at the delivery van.
At the open door.
And at the DPU hat, sitting on the seat.
“Because I think I have an idea.”
CHAPTER FORTY
James felt the crack against his head.
Then, darkness.
Then…
Shouting. Laughter. And fear. Total fear, right through his body.
His dad chasing him.
Trying to hide under the bed, to get away from him.
And then the grip of his fingers, right around his ankle.
Dragging him from under the bed, screaming.
Turning him over and punching him.
Cracking the belt against his back, time and time and time again…
And the pain getting so intense, so much, that after a while, James just got used to it.
The fear beaten out of him.
Never wanting kids for the same reason.