After the Fall- The Complete series Box Set

by Charlie Dalton

  And yet his heart was filled with sadness. He doubted there was anyone left alive who could make something like the miracle of engineering that he had between his legs right then. Not to this level of sophistication, at least. There were those who could maintain it—some within the ranks of the clan he rode in—but none of them had the touch of genius required to make something like this from scratch.

  The Worm had opted to ride around the mountain range in an anti-clockwise direction. He didn’t much fancy what might take place in the thick forest canopy beyond the Crow’s Nest. He also didn’t like the way the Mantis had begun to think—if he thought at all. There was an awkward craziness in his eye that hadn’t escaped the Worm’s attention. Something had changed within their leader. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Except for the bright, shining green eyes, of course. That much at least was obvious.

  As the Worm made the final turn, heading toward the agreed meeting point with the second half of the clan, he looked out in the opposite direction, at the winding roads and endless limitless potential. He wanted to turn his bike around, to head in that direction and leave everything behind. But he couldn’t. Turning tail was the cardinal sin amongst Reavers. Deserters were shot in the back if caught.

  Perhaps one day. But not this day. He turned his bike to the valley that cut through between the mountains on either side.

  93.

  JAMIE HAD never seen something so sad his entire life. Lucy’s child-like body lying face-down in the still river, floating. Adrift. She had struggled and flailed, fighting against Jamie’s aid when he attempted to keep her face above the surface. He was fighting a losing battle. It was like she actually wanted to be underwater.

  Donny turned her body over and swam with one arm to take her to the shore. Fatty and Jamie stood on the bank to help pull Lucy onto land. Jamie immediately began CPR on her, pressing in the same rhythm on her chest, forcing the water out.

  Donny climbed out of the river, water sloshing around his feet. He pushed Jamie aside and continued with the CPR. He pressed harder and yet the water still wouldn’t come out.

  Fatty stood behind them, pacing up and down, mumbling something to himself and wringing his hands through his hair. Jamie watched Lucy with extreme interest. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  Lucy’s body convulsed, a lungful of dirty water spilling out of her mouth. Donny turned her onto her side. She coughed, bringing up more water. Jamie, immensely relieved, fell back and chuckled to himself.

  Then came the sound of the forest crashing behind them. The Reavers. They were drawing near.

  “Uh, guys,” Fatty said.

  “We can hear it,” Donny said.

  He glanced down at Lucy’s tiny form. Small as she was, she would still slow them down. They couldn’t afford to waste even a second with the Reavers so close.

  “We have to go,” Donny said. “Now.”

  “Not without Lucy,” Jamie said. “Donny, you’re the strongest. You carry her.”

  “I need to carry my gun,” Donny said.

  “I’ll carry it,” Jamie said. “You carry her.”

  Donny glanced back at the foliage. It was snapping underfoot as the Reavers descended on their position.

  “Either you carry her, or I will,” Jamie said. “But if I carry her, they will definitely catch us.”

  “They’re not even after us!” Donny said. “They want her! They want Lucy. I promised Dad I would do everything I could to protect you. Not her. And that’s exactly what I intend on doing.”

  He grabbed Jamie by the arm and began dragging him away. He could do it. He was much bigger and stronger than his younger brother.

  “No!” Jamie said, drawing his axe.

  “Put the blade away,” Donny said. “We both know you won’t use it on me.”

  “It’s not for you,” Jamie said.

  He raised the blade to his neck. He stared with tears in his eyes at his brother. He was terrified but he knew with cold hard certainty that he would do it if he had to.

  “Why are you doing this?” Donny said. “We don’t need to die for her.”

  “We have to fight for each other,” Jamie said. “We shouldn’t have sent Angie out into the desert. It’s the kind of thing the Reavers would do, what the Rages would do. We’re not them. We have to be better. Nester didn’t have to die. I see that now. It wasn’t my fault. It was father’s. It was the commune’s. We sacrificed the weak so the rest of us would live in a little more comfort. That stops now. I won’t give Lucy up. Or if I do, I’ll die with her.”

  Donny searched his brother’s eyes. He was deadly serious. He would cut his own throat if he had to. He could stop him this time but what about the next time? Or the one after that? He couldn’t keep him prisoner his whole life. Donny took out his pistol and handed it to Jamie.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Donny said, bending down to pick Lucy up.

  “No,” Jamie said. “But I know I’m doing it for the right reasons.”

  They followed the riverbank a hundred yards before cutting back into the forest, the Reavers hot on their tails.

  94.

  THE FOREST thinned out, leading to a flat riverbank. The men who’d been bitten by the spiders lay flat on their bellies, scooping up handfuls of water to drink and rinse their mouths. The poison was reported to make the victim’s mouth taste like he was chewing charcoal.

  The riverside was also the perfect location for a certain type of deadly creature. One of the most dangerous to humans. Donald spotted one at the riverside, shovelling droplets of water into its mouth. Black, dark. Deadly. Its sting had been known to bring down fully-grown horses. There was a specific technique to picking the creatures up without assuming any danger to yourself. Donald couldn’t do it with the Reavers so close, not without a distraction.

  “I don’t feel so hot,” the first Reaver to be bitten said. “I think these mosquitos have malaria or something.”

  “They don’t have malaria around here,” an unaffected Reaver said. “You’re just fat and your body’s not used to the exercise.”

  The Reaver vomited, projecting it in a spray over the Reaver in front of him who’d been wetting his hair. The man turned and thrust a fist to the man’s chin before he could spew another drop.

  Donald took the opportunity and bent down. He grabbed the scorpion, his hands tied behind his back, taking great care with its tail. He immediately rose, spinning on the spot to build up momentum before tossing it at a Reaver. His aim was off, and the scorpion landed on the back of another Reaver. The scorpion scrabbled for purchase, gripping the folds of the Reaver’s leather jacket with one meaty claw. Then it began to climb.

  “What’s wrong with him?” the Reaver said.

  “He was complaining before about getting stung,” another Reaver said. “I thought he was just bellyachin’ and. . . Argh!”

  He leapt back from the first Reaver, pointing and shaking, running his hands over his body as if he had something on his person too. The second Reaver, clearly spooked, checked himself, looking at his own arms, legs, and chest. He spun around in an attempt to look at his back.

  “What?” he said.

  “Your back!” the first Reaver said. “It’s on your back!”

  “What is?”

  “A. . . A. . . A. . .”

  The final unaffected Reavers gathered, watching the scene, standing back and offering no aid. Donald spotted a second scorpion and took the initiative to scoop it up and hurl it at the two Reavers.

  “Scorpion!”

  The first scorpion struck, burying its sting in the soft flesh at the base of the Reaver’s neck. The Reaver took his jacket off and threw it on the ground. He leapt on it, stomping and crushing. A lump the size of a man’s thumb was already beginning to sprout on the side of his neck. It might even swell enough to choke him. Donald had seen it happen before.

  Another Reaver leapt up, screaming like a little girl. He performed the same trick as the fi
rst Reaver, unshouldered his jacket, and stomped on it.

  “These woods are cursed!” a Reaver said.

  “Don’t be stupid,” another Reaver said. “There’s no such thing as curses.”

  “Half our men have died already!” the Reaver said. “The rest are heading toward the light as we speak.”

  The Reaver looked uncertain and glanced ahead at the Mantis, who stood staring at Donald. Apparently unconcerned. Donald dry swallowed. There was something very unsettling about those burning green eyes. They cared nothing for the Reavers or, Donald suspected, anyone else. It was the look a man gave a cockroach in the middle of his kitchen floor. A look of disdain and anger.

  He turned and marched back into the forest, following the undulating river that was gathering pace. With the Reavers already strongly considering turning tail, Donald now need concern himself only with the Mantis. He gave pursuit.

  95.

  FATTY PRESSED his head against the tree, sweat running down his face and bright red cheeks.

  “We can’t stop,” Donny said, grabbing him by the shoulders.

  “We have to,” Jamie said. “Or Fatty’s going to pitch over and die.”

  “If we stop for too long, they’ll catch up to us and we’ll die anyway,” Donny said, speaking between puffs himself.

  “Five minutes won’t hurt,” Jamie said.

  “It will if they catch us,” Donny said.

  But he could see he was outvoted. Everyone else was finding it hard to breathe. They couldn’t take another step without falling over.

  “Fine,” Donny said, secretly relieved. “Rest. But only for five minutes. Then we’re out of here.”

  He moved up the incline and placed Lucy on a large flat rock. She was still unconscious, mumbling unintelligible words under her breath. Donny lowered himself onto the rock beside her, legs weak and shaky. From here, he had a much better view of the forest behind them.

  On the other side of the rise was a craggy pair of cliffs that squared off against one another. A narrow valley wound between them. Small and not-so-small lumps of rock, barely even boulders, lay strewn across the valley floor. They would be exposed in that narrow corridor, Donny knew, with little in the way of cover. Anyone with a straight shot could pick them off one at a time. But it was the only way through to the other side of the mountain range.

  He frowned at something he’d never seen before, what he was certain had never been there before. It was an odd egg-shaped structure, glinting with sunlight off its metal surface, polished smooth. It lay in the middle of a deep recess, an inverse blemish on the Earth’s surface.

  “What the hell?” Donny said.

  He descended down the incline and headed into the crater. He approached the metal boulder with caution. He pressed his hand to it. Despite sitting directly in the sun, it was cold to the touch. He ran his hand over its perfectly smooth surface.

  What was it and where had it come from? Donny wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It was not something of this world. Perhaps something from the old world? Then how had it come to wind up here? Donny didn’t like it. His heart raced in his chest. He backed away from it and returned to the hilltop, beside Lucy’s still unconscious form.

  None of the commune had travelled much beyond the mountain range, so little was known about what lay out there. They’d drawn maps of the area from memory but who really knew how reliable those were. Donny had spent years looking at those maps, imagining what might lay on the other side of their known world. Was there someone like him, gazing at a blank spot on their own map where the Mountain’s Peak commune lay? He was half-thrilled, half-terrified of what lay beyond.

  The stories from the older commune members were enough to convince the weak of heart never to journey farther than their maps allowed, although Donny knew his father had long since had plans to branch out and search for other survivors, other communes, and to trade with them.

  That world now represented their only chance of survival. They just needed to reach it. They could evade the Reavers for weeks, months, even years. But that wouldn’t happen if they continued at this slow pace. Donny hopped down off the rock and picked Lucy up.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Just a bit longer,” Fatty said, head buried in the bosom of a large tree.

  “We can’t,” Donny said. “The Reavers will—”

  The bushes parted. The Mantis stared at them. They stared back. A smile spread across the Reaver leader’s face.

  It turned out, five minutes really could make all the difference.

  96.

  THE KIDS scrambled out of the way, suddenly locating reserves of energy they hadn’t previously possessed. Fatty fired off an arrow. It flew into the foliage, a yard wide of the Mantis. A shriek answered. Perhaps not as wide as he’d thought.

  Another Reaver sprung from the canopy, opening fire. The kids leapt for cover. The bullets dug into the rocks, ricocheted off and spitting tiny tornadoes. The Mantis turned to the man who’d shot.

  “Don’t fire!” the Mantis said. “You might hit her!”

  “But they’re firing at us!” the Reaver said in defense.

  The Mantis grabbed the Reaver by the scruff of the neck and hurled him at a cliff face. A sickening crunch sealed the Reaver’s fate. He collapsed, in a heap on the floor.

  “That’s impossible,” Jamie said.

  He’d seen strong men in the past. He’d seen men do incredible things when their life was on the line and Rages were bearing down on his position but he’d never seen a man so easily hurled like that before.

  The other Reavers got the message. They didn’t fire.

  The kids were under no such illusions. Donny, bereft of his pistol, took to his short bow, aiming and firing in rapid succession. The Reavers took shelter behind any tree and rock they could find. Only the Mantis didn’t run for cover. He was armed to the teeth but didn’t reach for any of them. He stepped forward, using his spear as a staff.

  Donny took out another arrow and took aim. A dozen cool one-liners flashed through his mind before he decided to remain silent. He released the arrow. It sailed true and struck the Mantis in the chest. Donny’s hands, blurry with speed, took out another arrow and fired. This one found the other side of the Mantis’s chest. He was—amazingly—still on his feet. Then it was Jamie’s turn.

  He opened fire with Donny’s gun, blowing a hole in the Mantis’s right thigh, then another above the knee. The Mantis staggered, his leg near blown off. He righted himself, standing up. His eyes locked on Jamie, his grin growing wider.

  It was the most terrifying thing he’d ever seen.

  Then the grin faltered. The Mantis looked down at his chest, seeping blood. He pressed a hand to it, palm coming away wet and red. He chuckled in the back of his throat, then fell flat on his face.

  “Well, that wasn’t too difficult, was it?” Fatty said.

  Jamie let himself smile, let himself feel the thrill of success. Of victory. But it felt hollow. Empty. Like it wasn’t a real victory. Something was wrong.

  It wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

  97.

  DONALD WASN’T there to see his sons putting projectiles into the Mantis. He was busy sprinting through the thick forest foliage, hopping over fallen trees. It was difficult to maintain balance with his arms behind his back, and came close to falling over twice before he found a graveyard of assorted flintstones. They looked to be arranged in a cairn, the stony final resting place of the deceased.

  “Sorry,” Donald said, reaching for the sharpest one he could find.

  He held the flat stone in his fingers and applied it to his bonds, moving it up and down in a sawing motion. He could tell by how long each strand took to sever that it was too slow. He began jogging, continuing to cut the rope about his wrists, one strand at a time.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  Gunshots. Up ahead. Donald pulled his arms apart in an effort to snap the remaining strands but they were too strong. He concentrated, pressin
g hard on the rope to sever a few more strands. He felt his grip grow loose as his own blood spilled over his hands. He pulled again on the rope, moving his arms apart. Still no good. But he felt it give slightly this time. He tried again, crouching down and pulling hard. He let out a roar, and finally, in a single sharp movement, the frayed rope snapped.

  Donald set off in the direction of the gunshots and hoped he wasn’t too late.

  98.

  LUCY OPENED her eyes and sucked in a mouthful of sweet oxygen. Her throat rasped, sore and painful. She pushed herself up onto her side, resting on her elbow.

  There were sounds around her, of something significant and noisy taking place. It was all a blur to her. She was still seeing the images from when she was drowning. They were so sharp and vivid. They had to be true, had to be real. It was a memory, not a dream.

  Then the sounds began to filter into her conscious mind. Fighting. Gunshots. And she remembered where she was and what she was doing there. She was travelling with friends. She’d been heading somewhere. . . Nowhere specific. Just somewhere safe.

  She pushed herself up onto her hands, taking her time. She turned her head to look at her surroundings. It slowly came into focus. There were her friends, hiding behind rocks below. What they were fighting stood in the middle of a clearing. Her heart was in her throat.

  It was the thing dressed in human clothes. Pretending to be human.

  Jamie had just unloaded a bunch of rounds into its chest, and it lay on the ground, unmoving. But it was an act. Everything was an act.

  Donny stood over the fallen creature, bowstring taut and ready to release at a moment’s notice.

  Lucy got to her feet, a little unsteady, and shouted through cupped hands.