by Ryan Casey
She hadn’t had much luck.
But she had seen something else.
Or rather, someone else.
She wasn’t sure what to think when she saw her. Not at first. In a sense, she didn’t even recognise her, not properly.
But then it clicked.
It clicked where she knew her from.
It clicked where she recognised her from.
Her heart stopped.
“Emma,” she said.
She lowered the binoculars. She rushed down the ladder. She ran over to the main entrance and exit, which wasn’t supposed to be opened in anything but the most urgent circumstances.
The guard, Pete, looked at Holly with a frown.
“You can’t—”
“Open it,” Holly said.
“But—”
“There’s a girl out there. I girl I know. Open this goddamned door right this second and let me the hell out.”
Pete narrowed his eyes. He sighed. “I’m not supposed to do this.”
“You’d better do this,” Holly said.
Pete looked over his shoulder. Then he looked outside. “One minute. That’s all you’ve got, okay? One minute and then these doors are closing for good. I’m not having this on my conscience. Not if anything happens to you.”
Holly shook her head, adrenaline coursing, hardly able to believe this situation. “I won’t need longer than a minute.”
Pete sighed.
Then he opened the gate.
And the second the gate opened, Holly was racing outside.
She ran. She ran towards Emma. Because it felt like this moment had been building up for ages. It felt like it had been building up for so long.
It felt like this was the moment Holly had been waiting for.
The moment of catharsis ready to finally explode.
She saw Emma getting closer as she raced towards her. And a part of her wondered if she’d seen her wrong. She wondered if this girl wasn’t Emma after all. Maybe she’d just not seen her properly. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her again.
Maybe she’d got this all wrong.
But the closer she got to Emma, the more she stopped doubting.
The closer she got, the more she realised.
It was Emma.
After all this time, she’d made it.
After all this time, she was here.
And yet…
Something didn’t feel right.
It felt too nice.
Too convenient.
But she couldn’t go off hunch.
She couldn’t just stop running right now.
She had to get to Emma.
“Emma,” she said.
She went to hug her. Went to grab her.
But Emma flinched. She flinched away.
And it was the way she looked at Holly.
The way she looked at her that made her worry more than anything.
What was wrong?
Holly crouched opposite her. She looked into her eyes, which were spaced out, traumatised.
“Emma. It’s me. It’s Holly. Do you remember?”
Emma looked at her then. And there was a flash. A flash of something. A recognition.
She looked at her and for the first time since they’d reunited, Emma smiled.
“Holly,” she said.
Holly smiled back. She felt tears building up. Felt her throat tightening as she welled up. “Yes,” she said. “Yes. Holly. It’s me. It’s me.”
But there was still something about the way Emma looked at her. Still something… uncertain. She was pulling her denim coat over her body. Like she was hiding something. Like she was covering something up.
Holly reached out a hand, and Emma flinched again.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You know who I am now. Come on.”
Emma looked at her hand, uncertain.
She looked at Holly.
She opened her mouth like she was going to say something. Like she wanted to reach out to her.
“Emma?” Holly said. “Are you okay?”
That glaze stayed on Emma’s face. That look of unfamiliarity. Like something was bubbling away under the surface, just waiting to burst free.
“You can tell me. You can speak to me if there’s something wrong. If there’s anything wrong. You know that. You remember that. Right?”
Emma opened her mouth, and Holly felt like she was on the verge of opening up.
But then her eyes glazed again, and she just nodded and took Holly’s hand.
Holly sighed. She didn’t know what Emma had been through. She couldn’t jump to any conclusions. But she didn’t want to push her, either. She didn’t want to force her into cooperation. She knew that sometimes, whatever went on outside the walls should stay there. She knew from her own experience that some things were better left unearthed.
“Let’s go home,” Holly said, tightening her hand around Emma’s. Let me show you my home.”
They turned around. Walked away. Headed back towards the camp.
But Holly still got that sense that something was desperately wrong.
If Holly had trusted her hunch, maybe things would’ve ended differently.
If Holly had just looked at what Emma was hiding under her clothes…
Chapter Twelve
Mike didn’t stick around and wait for Ian to regain consciousness. He didn’t stick around and wait for Alison. He didn’t stick around and wait for anyone.
Because all he could think of was the sight of Sofia sitting strapped to that chair, Novichok nerve agent surrounding her.
And that Polaroid photograph of Emma pinned to her chest.
Emma laced with Novichok.
“Mike!”
He heard the voice calling out from behind, but he didn’t stop moving. He couldn’t stop moving. Nothing could stop him now. Because he knew something was wrong in the first place, but now it was certain. Now it was confirmed. He should’ve trusted his gut. He should’ve believed in himself. He should’ve known.
Emma. She wasn’t gone. She was never really gone.
But she was going back.
She was going back to the Safe Zone, and she had Novichok.
He gasped as he ran as quickly as he could. He cursed himself for not being more youthful, for not being able to run just a slight bit faster. He cursed himself for leaving his daughter behind, for leaving Kelsie behind, for leaving Gina and Arya and everyone behind.
But in the moment, it’d seemed like the right decision. It’d felt like the safer choice. The safer option.
Only now was he beginning to wonder if, after everything, he’d unwittingly put them in danger.
Only now was he beginning to wonder if the reason this entire journey felt so wrong was because something was desperately wrong.
He shook his head. Steadied his focus, steadied his composure. He was imagining things. He was overreacting. He was going to get back home and all of this was going to just be proven to be a part of his mind, a part of his consciousness. He was worried because he’d been in a similar situation before. He’d had a home. Somewhere he’d settled. The Grey Lodge mental health facility. And it was only when he’d left that it had been intercepted, that everything had fallen apart.
He just worried what might happen if the same thing happened again.
Because as harsh as it was to the people who he’d lived with at Grey Lodge… the stakes were higher now. They were far more momentous.
His daughter was here.
Kelsie was here.
And a little metaphorical time bomb of Novichok was heading right towards them.
He shook his head again. He needed to pull himself together. Because he didn’t know. Not for certain. The only way he’d know was by getting back to the camp. By seeing for himself what things were like there.
And if he managed to get there before Emma did… then maybe he could stop this. Maybe he could prevent anything from happening.
“Mike!”
He looked over his shoulder.
Alison was chasing after him. Keeping well up with him. Ian was somewhere behind on his own, unconscious, probably just about coming around. They’d have to go back for him. They’d have to see to him.
He wanted to stop. He wanted to tell her what was wrong, what he was running from. God, he wanted to tell her so, so much.
But in the end, there was only one direction for him.
There was only one way he could go.
There was only…
He stopped.
He stopped because he saw the camp up ahead.
He saw the gates.
Partly open.
And he saw them.
There were two of them. A little girl. And an older girl, too.
There was no doubting the situation.
There was no doubting what he was seeing here.
The little girl was Emma.
And the older girl…
The older girl was Holly.
“No!” Mike shouted.
He ran. Ran fast. Pelted himself in the direction of the little girl, in the direction of his daughter.
“Holly!” he shouted. “Holly, wait!”
For a moment, just a split second, he thought he saw Holly turn around. He thought he saw her look over her shoulder.
But then she kept on going.
“Holly, pl…”
He couldn’t finish what he was saying.
Because he saw them step behind the gates.
He saw the gates close.
And without meaning to, he slowed to a halt.
He collapsed onto his knees. Crouched there. Sweat dripping from his body. Heart racing. Because the dominoes were falling into place. The action that he’d tried so desperately to intercept before it could happen… it had already happened. The wheels were in motion. There was no stopping it.
Emma was inside their home.
The Novichok nerve agent was inside their home.
He remembered doing his research on Novichok. He knew how it worked. It could be inhaled, or it could pass on through the skin or mucus membranes. Once it contaminated somewhere, it could take moments for the effects to kick in, and when they did, it stuck around for a long, long time. Wherever it fell, it pretty much became a ghost town.
As for what it did…
It tightened the muscles. Caused contractions. Nosebleeds. Led to cardiac arrests.
And without immediate antidote, it almost certainly resulted in death.
“Mike?” Alison said.
He looked up at her. And he must’ve looked traumatised because of the way she was looking at him.
“What is it?” she said. “What… what’s wrong?”
Mike swallowed a lump in his throat. Then he turned back to the gates of his community; the gates of his home. “It’s too late,” he said.
“Too late for what—”
“They’re inside. It’s inside. There’s nothing we can do now.”
He stood up. Stepped slowly towards the entrance to the camp. Alison followed closely.
“Mike, you’re not making sense—”
“That girl. It was Emma. There was a photo of her pinned to Sofia’s chest.”
Alison frowned. “But—”
“Emma was laced with Novichok.”
Mike saw the way the realisation crossed Alison’s face. He saw the way she came to terms with what he was telling her, still struggling to understand, still struggling to accept.
He saw the way she looked at him and shook her head, disbelieving. “No,” she said.
Mike looked back at the gates. “There’s only one way to find out, now.”
He walked to the gates. Alison by his side. And when he got there, he sensed quietness. Quietness to this place that he wasn’t used to.
Only that quietness dropped.
It dropped because he heard an explosion.
First, silence followed. Sheer, total silence.
Then a scream.
Then a cough.
And then another.
And another.
Dread filled his body as he looked at Alison. His stomach turned. He wanted to be sick.
But he had to go inside.
He had to see for himself.
He pushed open the gates, and he held his breath.
The streets were the same. The animals were still in the fields. People were still in greenhouses, tending to the crops.
Only there were some differences.
There were people writhing on the streets.
People clutching their necks.
People kicking, screaming, then dying.
And in the middle of it all, as Mike tried to hold his breath, he saw something else.
Emma was lying on the ground.
Or rather, what was left of her exploded body.
A powder cloud of Novichok surrounded her.
Her head was no longer attached to her body.
She was long gone now.
Glassy eyes staring up into the sky.
And then there was somebody else beside her.
Somebody kneeling right by her side.
Tears rolling down her cheeks.
He went to step towards her, even though he knew full well what danger he was putting himself in just by being here.
“Holly?”
She looked up at him.
Deathly pale.
Eyes streaming.
“Dad?” she said, confusion on her face.
“Hol…”
He stopped.
He stopped because he saw it.
The blood.
The blood oozing from her nostrils.
Then from the corners of her mouth.
He saw her touch her lips, confused.
He saw her look back at him, fearful.
“What’s…” she gargled.
She didn’t say anything else.
Her eyes rolled back.
The confusion slipped away.
And Holly hit the ground.
Chapter Thirteen
Mike watched Holly hit the ground, and he felt his entire world crumbling around him.
The afternoon clouds were sprinkling rain from above. Thunder was starting to rumble, the clouds finally releasing their pent-up energy. All around him, he could see the signs that things were going just as he’d feared they would.
People lying on the ground.
People clutching their chests.
Their eyes wide, saliva drooling from the corners of their mouths.
Emma’s sacrifice bearing its vicious fruits.
But there was something worse.
Something starker than anything he’d come across so far.
“Holly,” Mike said.
He threw himself towards her. Because he couldn’t get his head around it. He couldn’t accept it. Even though he knew what was happening here, he still felt that reluctance. He still felt that resistance.
He’d watched his daughter walk Emma inside this place.
He’d watched her look at him, covered in the nerve agent.
And then he’d watched the blood trickle down her face and fall to the ground.
As he ran towards her, Mike became aware of something else. There were people running away from the site of the attack. People rubbing their eyes, brushing the dust of the Novichok bomb from their clothes.
They were trying to get away. But at the same time, they were spreading the nerve agent even more.
They were spreading it.
They were contributing to the collapse of this place.
Because one thing was for sure.
Whoever got contaminated with this chemical was in big, big trouble.
They didn’t have the resources to do a full scale clean-up of the Safe Zone.
They didn’t have the resources to rescue this place.
He zoned back in, landed at Holly’s side.
Holly was lying on her back. She had the dust of the chemical all over her face, all over her bo
dy.
And as much as Mike wanted to reach towards her, to lean in, to kiss her, to tell her everything was going to be okay, he couldn’t.
Because coming into contact with this nerve agent would most likely kill him too.
He felt the tears roll down his cheeks as he crouched there and stared down at his little girl. He remembered the day she was born. The way she’d scream at the top of her lungs and never stop screaming, revealing the fighter inside.
He remembered the way he’d taken her on her first rollercoaster, and how she’d been so scared, shaking as she sat in front of him. But once she got down from it, she’d wanted to just go on it again and again.
He remembered the first time he’d seen her dance, and the lump it left in his throat.
He remembered losing her.
Then finding her again.
The months that had followed since.
He remembered all these things.
And now he looked at his daughter, eyes closed, not breathing, just lying there with blood pooling from her nostrils.
“Screw it,” he said. “Screw it.”
He took a deep breath.
Then he leaned in and went in for resus.
He did chest compressions. He went in for mouth to mouth. He zoned into this situation completely, not letting any outside distractions get to him.
He kept going. Counted out the space between the compressions perfectly. Tried to keep his distance. Tried to keep his composure.
But he just kept on pushing.
He just kept on going.
He pushed harder, aware that he was in danger, aware that he might be hurting his girl by doing this.
But he had to push.
He had to try.
“Mike.”
He heard Alison’s voice over his shoulder, and he shook his head. He ignored it. He had to. Because he could tell. He could tell just from the way she was speaking what she was thinking; what she was going to say to him.
“Mike, it’s—”
“No,” he said. “No.”
He kept on pushing. Kept on giving his daughter air. He tasted her salty blood on his lips, mixed with his tears.
“Come on, angel,” he said.
He pushed some more.
“Come on.”
He tried again. And again.
But after all that trying, he finally stopped.
He pulled away. Looked down at his daughter lying there on the ground.