by Casey, Ryan
Martin didn’t know what to say. If this conversation was supposed to make him sympathise with Jax more, it wasn’t doing a great job.
He went to tell Jax to disappear when Jax said something else.
“I used to be a pretty calm guy before Harold took Olivia out. I used to have my emotions in check. That’s what sixteen-hour meditation days in the Burmese wilderness can do for you. But something happened that day. Something happened when I lost Olivia. It... I guess it awoke something inside me. Something I’m ashamed to even admit is there. But it’s there in all of us. It’s always been there, and it always will be. And the more we try to push it back, the more we try to resist it, the worse it gets.”
Martin heard the emotion cracking through Jax’s voice. For the first time, he saw another side to him. He saw a man torn up by loss. He saw a man changed by tragedy. And he knew how he felt.
He didn’t sympathise with him.
But he understood his pain.
“I know we’ll never be friends or even allies,” Jax said. “But perhaps we can make a positive change from a point of similarity. Maybe we can do something good for that community of yours. Something difficult to swallow at first, sure. But something good.”
And Martin wanted to tell him to get lost. He wanted to tell him he was wrong.
But in the end, he could only half-smile and nod. “Maybe we can.”
He caught Jax staring into his eyes, and for another brief glimpse of a moment, he saw humanity. He saw the other side of the story. He saw a man with his own motives. He saw a man who wanted the best for his own people.
And Ella was one of those people, whether Martin liked it or not.
Then he saw Jax stop and look ahead. “Looks like we made it.”
Martin didn’t know what he was on about at first.
He turned around. Looked ahead.
And then he saw it, and his stomach turned.
Lancaster loomed in the distance.
The high-rise flats.
The train station.
The roads leading down to their shelter, peppered with broken-down, rusting cars, shining in the sun.
“We wait until night,” Jax said. “And then we end this. Together.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Harriet walked down the street towards Harold’s office and kept on telling herself this was a terrible idea.
It was late afternoon. The streets were warm, hot tarmac sticking to her shoes. She could still smell the remnants of burning from the explosion. There was still a strange silence in the air, too. A sense of loss hanging over the place. And Martin’s disappearance only intensified that loss. A sense that something wasn’t quite right.
A sense that had Harriet walking towards Harold’s right now, preparing to tell the truth.
She felt a pain right in the pit of her stomach every time she imagined what she was about to do. Really, it was simple. She’d tell Harold the truth. She knew Martin was gone. She’d panicked earlier today. Panicked because of what he’d said about something not being right. But she was wrong to panic. She should’ve trusted Harold. Because his intentions were good. There’d never been any evidence otherwise. Martin was the one whose grip was slipping. Martin was the one who needed watching. She’d known Harold longer than she’d known Martin, after all. Even under the old rule, he always wanted what was best for people. He always did the right thing.
She walked down the road, Oscar’s hand in hers, Bruce by her side. Rick dropped Bruce off at hers earlier. Figured she’d be the best one to look after him.
And she knew Rick was right. But at the same time, it all just made her feel more uncomfortable. Because there she was, pretending she didn’t know a thing about Martin’s disappearance, acting as if she was just as in the dark as everyone else, when she knew the truth.
“Are we looking for Martin, Mummy?”
Harriet tightened her grip on her son’s hand as Harold’s office block grew closer. “Not quite. But Mummy’s gonna put something right with Harold. Something that’ll help.”
Oscar tilted his head like he was unsure. “Did you do something bad?”
Harriet stopped. Frowned. “What?”
“You said... put something right. Did you do something wrong?”
Harriet stared into space. Did she do something wrong? Should she have been open from the start? Should she have come clean right away? She wasn’t sure.
But there was a chance, now. A chance to apologise. A chance to put things right. A chance to change things.
She kissed Oscar right on his forehead. “No. I didn’t. But things are going to be better soon. I promise.”
She stood up and went to walk on when she saw someone up ahead.
Harold. Speaking with two of his closest allies. Dave and Frankie.
Harriet didn’t mind Dave and Frankie. They often led the hunts. Always seemed chatty, jovial. There were no bad vibes where they were concerned.
But the way the three of them stood there right now. The way they spoke to one another.
They looked bothered by something.
The three of them looked like they were arguing.
And Frankie in particular looked like he’d had a rough time. Covered in sweat. Dirt. Cuts across his face.
Harriet kept her head down and walked. She figured she could just approach Harold. Ask for a quiet word with him. A private word with him. No harm in that, right?
But then something else happened.
Harold glanced over his shoulder, looked at the people approaching from the other direction, and then the three of them disappeared up towards Harold’s office door.
Harriet stopped for a moment. Watched them walk down that pathway, then head inside.
And part of her wanted to turn around. To head away. Because she didn’t know what this was about, but she had a bad feeling about it. A sense something wasn’t right. Not to quote Martin’s words, but that’s all it was. A sense.
She wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t.
She had to see what this was about.
She knew chances were it was nothing. Chances were she was just interpreting this wrong. Seeing signs that weren’t there.
But then there was another chance.
A small chance.
A part of her that wanted to know what this was about.
She saw that small chance lying ahead of her, and she knew what she had to do.
“Come on,” she said.
She walked further down the road. Kept her head down. Every step heavy like her boots were made of lead.
She reached the footpath leading to Harold’s office block, and she wanted to turn around. She wanted to walk away.
But she pushed that thought to one side and turned down the footpath.
The further she got down it, the more that nausea grew inside her. The more she wanted to turn around and walk away. But she wasn’t doing anything wrong. There was nothing wrong in going to see Harold. He wasn’t some kind of dictator.
Right?
She lifted a hand. Went to bang on the door.
That’s when she heard the shouting.
She held her hand in mid-air. Her heart pounded. She felt she had to walk away now more than ever; that she had to get away from here because they were talking about something she wasn’t supposed to hear.
But then she heard the words.
She heard them, and she couldn’t un-hear them.
She couldn’t stop listening.
“I sent them out there to take him out. It was my call, not yours. But if he’s really done what you say he has... then it means we need to up our game. We need to stamp him out. Before he becomes a problem. Because believe me. If his daughter’s involved, he will become a problem. Parents always do.”
Harriet stepped back from the door. She walked back down Harold’s path. Heart racing. Head spinning. Trying to get her head around Harold’s words. Trying to make sense of what he’d said. Trying to kid herself that she’d got it wro
ng. They were talking about somebody else. That this wasn’t what she thought it was.
But as she walked down the road, Oscar’s hand in hers, Bruce by her side, clouds starting to thicken over the beaming sun, she knew there was no point in denying reality. Denying the truth.
Harold was talking about Martin.
He was talking about Ella.
He was right.
Something was wrong.
“What’re we doing, Mummy?”
Harriet looked down at Oscar, and she couldn’t hide the truth from him much longer.
Because they needed to get out of this place.
They needed to escape.
Fast.
Chapter Thirty
Martin looked down at the city of Lancaster in the distance, and he knew it was almost time.
The sun set a while back. As soon as darkness fell, Martin knew what was coming next. The plan. Move towards the city. Approach via the sewerage pipes on the east—the area Martin knew was less guarded than others.
And at that point? Everything from there was a kind of mystery. He didn’t know how Harold would react when they arrived inside the walls of the shelter. He didn’t know how his people would respond if they saw him heading their way. He didn’t even know how Harriet and Oscar and Bruce were doing in there.
He just had to hope. He just had to pray.
And this had to go right.
“We split into two groups,” Jax said, standing in the darkness, surrounded by his people. “One group stays here and keeps a lookout. The other group heads down there. Martin should lead it.”
Martin’s eyes widened. He saw people turn and look at him like they were surprised too. “What?”
Jax half-smiled. “You know that place better than any of us. It’s only right that you should lead the way down there. Besides. The people there trust you, don’t they? More so than they’d trust any of us. So it should be you.”
Martin shook his head. He didn’t like this. It didn’t feel right. “Feels awfully like you’re sending us down there to die.”
“And I’m sorry you feel that way. But believe me when I say I wouldn’t put my people in danger. I wouldn’t put anyone at risk. It’s just logistics. And if you don’t like it, well, perhaps we can work out a different way. An alternative.”
Martin looked around at Jax’s people. Saw how they looked at him like even they weren’t happy with this arrangement.
And then he heard Ella’s voice.
“I’ll come with you.”
Martin shook his head. “Ella—”
“If you’re going down there, I’m coming with you. I’m good at shooting. I’m good at fighting.”
“Ella, you’re safer here. As much as it pains me to admit it.”
“You don’t get to decide what I do.”
“Actually, I think you’ll find I do get to decide. I’m still your dad.”
“Things have changed,” Ella said.
Silence followed her words. It hung in the air, elongated and painful. Everyone watching. Everyone waiting.
She walked towards him. Looked right up into his eyes.
“I know you’re scared,” she said. “I know... I know you don’t want to risk anything happening. Because of what’s happened in the past. Because of all the people you’ve lost. But that’s not because of you, Dad. It’s not because of you. I’m coming with you. And you’re not going to lose me. I promise.”
Martin looked back into his daughter’s eyes, and he didn’t know what to say. There was nothing he could say.
All he knew was that there was no arguing about this with his daughter. There was no convincing her otherwise.
She was joining him.
Whether he liked it or not.
He saw his reluctance to connect with people. His fear of opening up to others; of getting close. He saw how much it’d held him back this past few months—and beyond that. These past few years.
He saw it all, and he knew he needed to let it go.
He needed to trust Ella with this.
And he needed to trust that she was safe by his side.
He sighed. Nodded. “Okay.”
She smiled up at him. A twinkle to her eyes. Like she was surprised. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay. But let’s get this done quick before I regret that decision.”
He looked at the people standing around him, ten of them by his side. He looked at their rifles. Their knives. A small army ready to strike.
And then he looked at Jax. At the others. Standing there. Waiting for Martin to make his move.
Martin walked up to him. “If anything happens—”
“We’ve got your back.”
Martin took a deep breath. Stepped closer. Squared right up to him. “If anything happens to my daughter on this mission... it’s on you. If you double-cross me in any way... I’ll make you regret it. I’ll come for you. And I won’t ever stop.”
Jax looked back into Martin’s eyes, and he smiled. “So you do understand.”
Martin frowned. “Understand what?”
“What it feels like to be driven by vengeance.”
Jax held out a hand. Dangled it right in front of Martin. Held it there. Waited.
“Good luck,” he said.
Martin didn’t want to take it. He wanted to hold off. Wanted to resist.
But in the end, he took that hand.
He held it tight.
Shook it.
“And you.”
He let go. Turned around. Faced these people. Ella amongst them.
And then he looked down at Lancaster, looked at it sitting there all silent in the darkness, and he took a deep breath.
“Let’s get moving,” he said.
Chapter Thirty-One
Harriet waited until dark before making her move.
Wind battered against the windows in the front room. She could hear rain outside, too. Every now and then, she swore she heard voices in the street. Footsteps. Some kind of increased guard presence in light of the attack the other day.
But the more she focused, the more she strained to hear something out there, the less clear those noises became.
It was all in her imagination. It had to be. She couldn’t let her mind hold her back. Not now.
She had to get out there with Oscar and Bruce.
And she had to get away from this place.
“But why do we have to go in the middle of the night, Mummy?”
Harriet looked around at Oscar. He stood there by her side at the doorway in his little Spider-Man pyjamas, coat wrapped around his shoulders, holding on to Big Ted, his favourite soft toy. She felt so bad for him, seeing that confusion in his eyes, that sadness to his face. So many times, this poor lad’s innocence had been chipped away at. And there were so many kids like him in this world, too.
Harriet wondered how the hell the next generation was gonna cope when all this shit ended. If it did end. Which she doubted. But damn. One could dream.
She crouched opposite him. Held his warm hands in hers. “It’s just… this castle. It’s not safe anymore. The dragon, it’s woken up again.”
Oscar tilted his head. “But we beat the dragon before, didn’t we?”
“We did, yeah. We did. But this time… this time he’s stronger. And he’s not gonna give up, love. So we need to find another castle. Somewhere safe. Somewhere better than here.”
She saw Oscar’s little eyes studying her face, trying to understand, trying to comprehend her words, and she felt so much love for him.
She leaned in. Wrapped her arms around him. Hugged him, tight. “We’re going to be okay out there. We always are. Because we’re tough, you and me. We’re tougher than anyone else.”
“But what about Martin?”
Harriet froze. For just a second, she didn’t know what to say about Martin. About where he was. About what his plans were. About whether they’d even see him again.
She could only kiss Oscar’s head and force a smile. “W
e’ll see Martin again. Someday.”
She stood up. Walked past Bruce, who sat tilting his head like treats were close by.
And then she looked at the door and tightened her grip on the rucksack over her shoulder.
This is the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do.
She swallowed a lump in her throat.
Thought about Harold. Thought about what she’d heard him talking about.
Sending someone out there.
Someone to take out Martin.
But did he?
Was that really what he was talking about?
Or could she have this wrong?
No. You know what you heard. You know exactly what you heard.
She took another deep breath.
Then she took Oscar’s hand.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
She opened the door and stepped out into the darkness.
The second she stepped into the street, Harriet got the feeling she was being watched.
Rain lashed down from the thick grey clouds above. It was the worst rain they’d had in ages. Her supposedly waterproof North Face coat was already drenched right through. If it was like this already, God knows how it was gonna keep her dry for the rest of her journey—however long of a journey it may be.
She squinted into the darkness. The rain didn’t help. Thick blobs splashing down, bouncing off the buildings, pooling down the front of her hood. She held Oscar’s damp hand in hers, Bruce bounding alongside them, clearly enjoying this dramatic change in weather. At least someone was making the most of it.
She tried not to look over her shoulder as she rushed down the road. She didn’t want to look back at her home. She didn’t want to turn around and see someone in the street, watching her leave. She didn’t want to risk making eye contact with Harold.
She just had to keep on going. Keep on pushing on.
Because she was so close to getting out of this place.
So close to escaping.
And not for the first time.
Escaping via the route she took last time, all those months ago, wasn’t as easy anymore. They’d blocked off the golf club at the back of the terraced houses with a large metal fence to stop people getting in. Harriet never once considered she might want to get out of this place. She never figured it’d ever make her feel so trapped.