by Casey, Ryan
But there were other ways out of the community they’d formed. There was the wall in progress that’d been blown to pieces of course, but that was heavily guarded right now. There were a few other routes like that. But Harriet had another route in mind. One row of houses backed onto an old sewerage pipe. She’d heard talks of dogs making their way into the community through there, after much confusion over how they were getting in. If she could get down there, she could make her way through that pipe. And she could get the hell out of this place.
She saw the turn in the road up ahead. The alleyway leading down to that sewerage pipe.
“Come on,” she said. “We’re almost there.”
“Who’s that?”
Oscar’s voice made Harriet freeze. She stood there in the middle of the road. Rain lashing down from above. The moon peeked from behind the clouds, illuminating her, making her feel exposed.
Her heart raced. Her chest tightened. She didn’t want to look over her shoulder at where her son was looking. She didn’t want to know who was there. She just wanted to keep moving. To get out of here.
But then she found herself turning around.
When she looked back, she saw someone standing right at the far end of the street.
They were blocked by the rain. Hard to make out.
But they were there.
And they were watching.
Harriet tightened her grip on Oscar’s hand. “Come on. We’ve got to go.”
She spun around and went to run towards that alleyway.
And that’s when she saw him.
Harold stood in the road.
Right in front of her.
Soaked with rain.
A sad slant to his face.
“Going somewhere, Harriet?”
Harriet’s stomach dropped. She took a step back. Went to run away. “I—”
But she didn’t say another word.
Because someone grabbed her from behind.
Wrapped a hand around her mouth.
Yanked Oscar away from her as Bruce barked and barked.
And as she tried to scream, as she fell to her knees, all she could do was stare up at Harold.
Sadness to his eyes.
“I’m sorry about this. Truly.”
And at that moment, she knew everything she’d feared was true.
Chapter Thirty-Two
When Martin reached the sewerage pipe leading towards the shelter, he got an awful feeling things were just too quiet.
It was the middle of the night. It’d poured down for a while, drenching him to his skin. But he was alright now. The rain had eased. Everything was still. Too still.
But he knew that was probably just in his head. He knew his mind was just playing tricks with him. He was bound to be nervous. Bound to be tense.
He still hadn’t got his head around this. The fact he was standing here, preparing to go into Lancaster. Preparing to help take Harold out for the guy he swore was the enemy.
And standing by his daughter’s side, too.
None of it felt real. It felt like some kind of weird dream. And part of his fear was that, like a dream, it was all going to end in a sudden snap.
And with Harriet, Oscar, and Bruce still in that place, he couldn’t risk anything.
“So we just go through there, and we end up right in the middle of that place? That’s what we’re supposed to believe?”
Martin looked around. He saw Edgar standing there, frowning. He was one of the most vocal of this small sub-group of Jax’s people he’d been leading towards Lancaster. The rest of them, he could tell the bulk of them weren’t sure about him, but they were going along with it all anyway. But Edgar. He was a problem. He didn’t trust Martin one bit. Didn’t seem to like Ella much, either.
Things were never straightforward.
“It’s a tight squeeze,” Martin said, looking down at that thick sewerage pipe worming its way into the ground. “And I can’t promise it’ll be the most pleasant trip. But hell. We’ve all lived in this world long enough to cope with a few smells, right?”
Edgar tutted. “Leading us into a dark, shitty tunnel like this. How do we know we can trust you?”
Martin looked at Edgar, and then he looked at his daughter. “Believe me. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t give a shit about you. I’d be lying if I pretended I did, and I think you know that anyway.”
Edgar lifted his rifle a little. Just enough to spark a little tension. Especially considering Martin hadn’t been given one. Not quite at that level of trust yet. “Not exactly the best elevator pitch.”
“But,” Martin said, “I care about Ella. And Ella’s right here with us. I wouldn’t ever do anything to endanger her. To put her in jeopardy. Sure, if it were up to me, she wouldn’t be here. She’d be tucked away somewhere out of danger entirely. But she isn’t. She’s here. And I’m gonna do my darnedest to step up to the plate. To be there for her. ’Cause I’m not losing her again.”
He smiled at Ella. And she smiled back at him.
He looked at Edgar and the rest of this group once more. “So that means you, too. It’s in my best interests to look out for all of you. So are we gonna do this? Or are we gonna just stand here squabbling forever?”
Edgar rubbed his hands through his hair and puffed out his lips. He lowered his rifle, just a little. “I’d say we don’t really have much of a choice. But you go first. And your daughter. She goes with you. Just in case. Okay?”
Martin felt a knot in his stomach. He didn’t want Ella to be by his side. He didn’t know what was waiting for him at the other end of that tunnel.
But he didn’t have much of a choice.
He nodded. “If that’s how it has to go.”
“It does,” Edgar said. “So get walking. We do this as quickly as we can. And if you can do it without drawing any attention to us... well, even better.”
Martin turned to the entrance to that sewerage pipe. Stared into the darkness. He could smell shit. Taste rot in the air. Not something he wanted to throw himself into.
But this was the best way in.
And there was something else about it, too.
It gave him the best chance of sneaking up on Harold. Catching him unawares.
This was their best hope of a peaceful resolution, which he still craved, even in spite of everything.
“You ready?” Ella asked.
Martin looked at his daughter. He looked at her dark hair glowing in the moonlight. At the scars on her arms, faded, long gone.
And then he looked at that opening, and he took a deep breath.
“As ready as I’ll ever be to throw myself into a shithole.”
The tunnel was worse than Martin expected.
The darkness tightened its grip around him with every step. The smell of shit clawed through every breath. Nausea filled his body. He wanted to puke, and he knew a lot of the others were doing already—a sound that didn’t exactly fill him with hope.
He walked shakily down this pipe. Even though he knew it wasn’t getting any narrower, the curved walls felt like they were closing in. Suffocating him. Squeezing the life from his body.
And he couldn’t see the light at the end of this route yet.
“How much further?” Edgar shouted.
Martin stopped. “You’re like the frigging donkey off Shrek.”
“Excuse me for being ratty,” Edgar called. “But I’m trapped in a can full of shit. Rats keep on jumping out at me. Size of frigging cats, they are. So excuse me. Excuse me for wanting to get the hell out of this place. Excuse me for wanting to get a move on.”
Martin heard more mumbles of discontent. When he looked back, he couldn’t see the moonlight on the other side of the tunnel anymore. They were deep in this pipe. They were getting closer to the end.
And the further they got, the more Martin’s nervousness grew.
“Let’s... let’s just keep moving. I want to get out of this place as much as everyone.”
Edgar tutted
. “Coulda fooled me.”
Martin sighed. “Is he always like this?”
Ella laughed a little. Her laughs sounded a little nervous, like they were covering up just how afraid she was, too. “It’s ’cause you’re new. He’ll come round when he gets to know you.”
“I have to get to know this guy?”
“Hey,” Edgar shouted. “I heard that. Dickhead.”
Ella laughed again. A few of the others did, too. And as they walked further through this pipe, further towards their destination, Martin wondered if delirium was setting in. If they’d finally gone mad.
That’s when he slipped and hit the bottom of the pipe.
Liquid from the bottom of the pipe splashed up onto his face, into his mouth. He spat it out right away, tried to get rid of the ghastly taste, almost puking right there.
That’s when he noticed something.
“You getting up, idiot?” Edgar called. “Or are you gonna sit there sucking the piss up all damned night?”
But Martin didn’t respond.
He didn’t say a thing.
Because that taste.
It wasn’t the taste of sewerage.
It wasn’t the taste of waste.
It was the taste of...
“Petrol,” Ella said.
Martin looked at Ella in the darkness. Right on cue, she’d realised too.
Because this sewerage pipe.
It was laced with petrol.
They were splashing through it.
It was all over them.
Which could only mean...
“We need to go back,” Martin said.
“What?” Edgar called.
Martin got to his feet. Stumbled back, away from the darkness, back towards the pipe entrance. “Petrol,” he said. “The pipe. It’s—it’s laced with petrol. We need to go back. We need to...”
He didn’t finish what he was saying.
Because it all happened so fast.
He looked back.
Back towards where Edgar was.
Back into the darkness of the pipe.
And in that darkness, he saw something.
A light.
Small at first.
But growing.
And the smell of burning growing, too, as that light grew bigger.
Closing in.
“It’s on fire,” Martin said. “The pipe. It’s on fire.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Martin saw the flames approaching, and he knew they were in deep shit.
The darkness of the tunnel contrasted with that orange glow of the oncoming flames. All around, Martin heard the fear in the voices of these people trapped down here with him. Some of them shouting. Some of them swearing. Some of them just whispering in panicked tones, like if they kept their voices down, they could keep the flames away.
The smell of burning grew more intense. Smoke filled Martin’s lungs, made him cough and splutter. His eyes stung. His chest grew tighter. And all this time, all Martin could think of was Ella. His daughter.
He wasn’t losing her down here.
“Come on,” he said. “There’s only one way we can go.”
He grabbed Ella’s hand and kept on racing down the tunnel towards Lancaster. He didn’t look back at those approaching flames. Looking back at them was acknowledging they were there. And as much as he needed to remember just how in danger they were, he was terrified. For his daughter.
“Keep going?” Edgar barked. “Are you mad?”
Martin looked around now. He had to.
And when he did, he saw those flames getting closer.
The air in this pipe growing more suffocating.
And it was getting warmer, too.
“The way I see it, Edgar, we don’t have a choice.”
“You did this,” Edgar said, coughing, spluttering. “You—you brought us down here.”
“Edgar, I—”
“You trapped us down here.”
“Edgar!”
Silence followed. Silence only broken by the crackling flames.
“We need to keep moving,” Martin said, growing light-headed. “We’re in here. No point losing our shit. The way I see it, we don’t have a choice. There’s only one way out of this pipe. Whether... whether we like it or not.”
“That might not be true,” Ella said.
Martin looked at her. He could faintly see her in the light of those approaching flames, now. He frowned. “What?”
And then he turned around to where she was looking, and he heard it.
And when he did, his stomach sank.
On the other side of the tunnel, he heard footsteps.
He heard people approaching.
And he heard voices, too.
“Shit,” Martin said.
He stood there, Ella’s hand in his. Flames approaching from one side. People approaching from the other. No way out. Trapped.
“I knew it,” Edgar said. “I frigging knew it.”
Martin stood and stared into the darkness. He listened to those approaching footsteps. This was a trap. It was a trap, and he should’ve known it. He should’ve seen it coming.
“What do we do?” Ella asked.
Martin held her hand, and he wanted to tell her he had the answers. He wanted to say he had a plan. He could get her out of here. He could get all of them out of here.
But he didn’t have the answers.
He didn’t have anything.
“I... I...”
Then, out of nowhere, a blast.
Gunfire.
Gunfire rattling down the pipe.
Slamming against its walls.
Darting towards them.
Martin didn’t have time to look. He didn’t have time to see if the bullets hit anyone. He knew they had because he heard the yelps. He heard the sound of bullets hitting flesh. He heard the gasps and the cries.
And then he heard something else.
Something that filled him with fear.
Someone screaming at the far end of the pipe. At the end with the flames.
And then a push.
“Shit!” Edgar shouted.
Martin looked around, and he saw what was happening.
One of Jax’s people was on fire. And they were racing their way down the tunnel, desperate to get to some kind of safety.
And the rest of the people were pushing towards Martin, too. Pushing towards Ella as at the other side, those footsteps got closer. Those bullets peppered against the walls of the pipe; against Jax’s people, one by one.
Martin saw Edgar standing there. Shaking his head. Gun raised.
But not pointed into the distance.
Pointed right at Martin.
“You did this,” he said, flames dancing in his angry eyes. “You—”
His head cracked back.
Blood spurted out.
And just like that, with a click of a finger, Edgar fell to the floor of the pipe.
Martin could barely breathe. He could barely see anymore. He could barely even think straight.
He just kept holding Ella’s hand.
Kept on praying to whoever was out there.
Because it couldn’t end like this.
It couldn’t end here.
“Dad?” Ella said.
And for the first time since reuniting with her, he heard fear in her voice. He heard terror.
He heard the child she really was cracking through that hardened exterior.
“What’re we going to do, Dad?”
Martin looked into his daughter’s eyes. Tears rolling down his cheeks. Lungs filled with smoke. Not much time left.
And he wished he had the answers.
He wished he had something else to say to her.
Something to comfort her.
Something to reassure her.
But all he could do as the heat grew insufferable, as the smoke thickened, as his skin started to bake, was hold on to his daughter’s hand and prepare to tell her the truth.
“I�
��m sorry,” he said. “I’m—”
It happened so fast.
A flame.
A flame creeping its way along the top of the pipe.
Threatening to swallow him up.
But something else, too.
An opening.
An opening forming right above.
A way out of this hell.
Martin stood right away. He lunged towards the top of that pipe. Flames nipping at his body. The sharp edges of the broken pipe scratching at him.
But he lunged out of it. Swallowed lungfuls of that fresh air. Gripped onto the edge of the pipe with his shaking hands.
And then he turned around and went to grab Ella out of there.
She looked up at him. Hands raised. Arms outstretched.
Flames so close to her feet.
“Come on!” he said.
He grabbed her arms. Yanked her up, with all the strength he had. Held on to her warm skin as the shouts turned into screams down there in the pipe. Animalistic screams. Like animals being slaughtered.
He looked into Ella’s eyes as he dragged her out into the open. Out of that hellscape.
“Come on,” he said, arms shaking, strength drifting from his body. “We need to–”
And then he felt something else.
On the other side, someone grabbed hold of Ella.
Someone yanked her from his grip.
“Ella!” Martin cried.
He heard her cry.
Heard her screams disappear down that pipe, off towards Lancaster.
And he watched as the pipe beneath him crumbled with flames.
As that opening melted away.
He wanted to go in there. He wanted to go after her. He wanted to save her.
But all he could do was stand there and watch.
All he could do was stare, tears rolling down his cheeks.
Because Ella was gone.
His daughter was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jax looked down towards Lancaster, and he knew something was wrong.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been waiting when he saw the smoke begin to rise. When he saw the glow of flames. And at first, he thought it might be Martin. It might be a sign he’d done it. That they’d made it. Some kind of signal to Jax that things were going well.