by Ryan Casey
In time, he’d have to face it. He’d have to allow himself to grieve. He’d have to let himself experience all the inevitable pain that he knew was coming.
But not now.
Not now.
There was only time for focusing now.
Focusing on finding Kelsie.
He reached the middle of the Safe Zone, and he came to a halt.
There was a pile of bodies.
A pile of bodies right by the entrance to this place.
A pile that wasn’t there before.
And he could tell even from this distance. He could see what he feared all along.
Alison and Holly weren’t where they’d been when they’d… when they’d died.
Which meant they must be in that pile.
Mike felt himself being drawn to that pile of bodies. He felt himself being dragged towards it. Because he couldn’t bear the thought that Alison was in there. He couldn’t bear the thought that Holly—his daughter—was in there.
They deserved better.
Of course they deserved much, much better.
But this…
Nobody deserved this.
He started to walk towards that pile of bodies when he heard the shout.
He looked to his left, and he saw them.
The two men.
One of them with Kelsie over his shoulder.
Kelsie staring right at him, wide-eyed, terrified.
The draw to go towards the pile of bodies dropped, now. It was replaced. Replaced by a protective urge. A protective desire.
Kelsie.
He couldn’t leave her with these people.
He couldn’t abandon her.
He ran in their direction. And as he ran towards them, he saw them disappear behind one of the buildings. He kept on going. Every moment that Kelsie was out of his sight was a moment of uncertainty. A moment of fear.
He couldn’t allow it. He couldn’t let it happen. Not for long.
He rushed down the sides of those houses, getting closer to Kelsie, Arya by his side.
“I’m coming, Kelsie,” he said. “I’m—”
Something smacked against the right side of his head. Sent him hurtling towards the ground.
He tasted blood. Felt a sharp pain shoot down his tongue.
Before he had the chance to get up, to figure out what was happening, the man was on top of him.
He pinned him down. Tightened his hands around his throat.
And Mike felt himself losing his grip. He found himself feeling dizzy, feeling lightheaded.
He tried to punch back. Tried to kick back. But it was no use. This man, he was on top of him. He was heavier than him. No matter how much Mike tried to punch, tried to kick out, he was stuck. He was trapped.
He heard Arya beside him. Heard her barking. And he wanted her to do something else. He wanted her to protect him. He wanted her to act.
But the longer time went on, the more certain Mike grew that she wasn’t coming to his defence.
She was soft as shit.
That was why she was so lovely.
Damn it.
He made a half-hearted swing towards this man’s head. Tried to scratch his face. He’d lost the Novichok spray bottle a long time ago.
He kept on punching out, kept on trying to fight. But his vision was clouding. His breathing was nigh-on impossible. Saliva was seeping from the corners of his mouth. Time was running out.
He tried again. Tried to make a swing. Tried to punch.
But it was pointless.
He was out of energy.
He was out of strength.
He lay there. Vision blurring. Arya barking. And he felt a tear roll down his cheek. Because it felt like he was going where he wanted to go anyway. It felt like he was going to his family. It felt like he was going to Caitlin, and Alison, and Holly.
It felt like all of that was getting closer, closer, closer…
But no.
Kelsie.
He needed to help her.
He needed to protect her.
He reached up. Reached up with the final strength he had.
And he put his hand on Arya’s head.
“Attack,” he said.
Arya looked at him. Looked at him with those puzzled eyes.
“Arya, please,” he said. “At… attack.”
He didn’t know what happened next.
He wasn’t sure what happened at all.
Because the light drifted from his eyes.
The life slipped from his body.
And at that moment, as he held on to Arya’s fur, everything went blank…
Chapter Twenty
Holly slammed against the ground below.
And for a moment, she thought she was okay.
For a moment, she thought she’d made it unscathed.
There was no real pain, after all. Just a dull ache in her leg.
And that sound she’d heard. That cracking sound. It had to just be the ground beneath her crumbling under her weight.
Again. She hadn’t felt any pain.
She had to be okay.
She had to.
Right?
It was when she went to stand up that she realised she had problems.
Real problems.
First, there was the pain. The pain that felt more like paralysis than acute sharpness. A dullness in her right leg.
Then she went to stand again, and she fell back to the ground.
It was only when she looked at her leg that she realised why, for certain.
Her leg was broken.
Visibly broken. Broken in two, right at the ankle.
She felt sickness taking over her. Nausea overcoming her. She wasn’t sure whether it was from the injury itself or whether it was from the shock of seeing what she’d done to herself.
But it went without saying.
She was in the shit.
Deep, deep shit.
She started breathing fast. Panic was taking over. She tried to stand again as if she could make it to her feet if she just convinced herself she could walk.
But it was no use.
There was going to be no walking on this leg.
She tried to get to her other leg. She could hop. That was it. That’s what she had to do. Hop away from here. Do whatever it took to just get away.
Anything was better that just staying here.
Just staying here was admitting defeat.
Just staying here was giving up.
She tried to get to the one good leg, but there was a sharp pain in that, too. And balancing. Balancing with one leg was harder in this situation than she’d have thought it would be.
She went to hop, and she fell forward.
She cried out as she hit the ground. She could taste blood. Her teeth were chipped. Her face was numb. Jumping out of the bus, it seemed stupid in hindsight. But then what else could she have done? What other option did she have?
She looked around at the top of the bus, and she saw them.
The people in the masks. Two of them.
They were looking out of the broken window she’d fallen from.
Staring down at her.
Then they were back inside the bus, and they were gone.
Intensity built up. Nerves built up. Because she knew what was happening. She knew what was coming next.
These people. They were coming after her.
And she had a broken leg.
There was nothing she could do.
She looked into the distance. Looked at the road ahead. She knew she could try. Try and make a break. Try and get away.
But what good would that be?
What use would it be when these people chasing her could catch her in no time?
Her home was usually so buzzing. Usually so well-populated.
But it felt like a ghost town already.
It felt like they were in the midst of a horror story.
But she had to stand up. She had to act.
She had to t
hink of something else.
And she had to think fast.
She looked back to the entrance to the Safe Zone, and she got an idea.
It was an idea that sparked sickness inside her. An idea that made her want to vomit.
But it was an idea that might just save her life.
She dragged herself over to the bus. She could hear the footsteps of the people inside it ploughing down the steps, getting closer towards her.
She pulled herself underneath it. It was a tight squeeze. Tighter than she’d first thought.
But as she got closer and closer to the other side, she started to believe.
She started to hope.
She reached the other side of the bus, and she saw the people in the masks run down to the back of the bus.
Then they pushed open a window—a window she didn’t even realise was open—and climbed outside.
She heard them land outside. So close to her now. So close to finding her. To getting her.
She could see their feet.
See these people looking around. Trying to figure out where she’d gone.
And at this moment, Holly knew there was only one thing she could do.
Only one thing she could try.
She clenched her teeth together.
And she lifted herself through the small gap at the side of the bus.
She pulled herself back into the Safe Zone. Saw the bodies. Saw the chaos.
She saw the place she’d called home for so long. The place she’d felt safe for so long.
She saw it all, and she knew she had to go back inside. She had no choice.
So she dragged herself again.
Then she felt it.
Something pulling against her broken leg.
She yelped. Then covered her mouth. But it was impossible to resist. She wanted to just scream out.
And as she looked over her shoulder, she prepared to see the worst.
When she saw that she’d just caught her leg on the bottom side of the bus, she felt relief.
She wiped her hair out of her eyes. The people in the masks, they didn’t seem to have clocked onto her.
She still had a chance.
She dragged herself. Dragged herself across the ground. Dragged herself closer and closer to that pile of bodies.
And as she dragged herself towards them, she felt tension inside. She felt nausea inside.
Because she didn’t want to look these bodies in the face again.
She didn’t want to look any one of those people in the face again.
But she knew she had to.
She reached the bodies. Dragged herself onto them, closing her eyes, not daring to look at any of them.
She put a few of their arms over her.
A few of their legs over her.
She covered herself in them, back like she’d been when she’d first woken up.
She told herself this couldn’t be reality. That this had to be a nightmare. Some kind of bad dream. She told herself that there was an end to this. A good end to this. An end where she survived.
She told herself that she’d done the right thing as the pain got increasingly acute.
She told herself all of this.
And then she felt the hands on her back drag her off the pile of bodies, and she knew it was over.
Chapter Twenty-One
One moment, Mike felt the life drifting from his body.
The next moment, he felt air surging into his lungs.
He gasped. Coughed. Spluttered. He didn’t know what had happened or what was still happening. His eyes were blurred. His vision was screwed.
He just knew that somehow, he was free.
He heard something, then. Something in his ringing ears.
Shouting.
Grunting.
He stumbled up to try and get his bearings. His head was spinning. His chest was tight. His neck felt like it was on fire.
But the main thing was that he was perceiving these sensations.
He was conscious.
But what had happened?
He stood upright. His back ached. His vision was still blurry, still unfocused.
But in time, he did focus.
In time, he saw what had happened.
Exactly what had happened.
Arya was on top of the man who’d been attacking him.
Her jaws were around his neck.
He was bleeding. Badly.
His eyes widened. He felt a speck of pride. He thought Arya was soft; that she was the kind of dog who wouldn’t willingly attack anyone, at least not without some serious encouragement.
She had his back. That was a development, for sure.
But then the tension rose in his body. The tension because he knew something.
Kelsie.
Kelsie was still with the other people.
Kelsie was…
He turned around, and he saw her, standing there.
The members of the group weren’t by her side.
There were two other people by her side.
Ian and Gina.
Mike rushed over to Kelsie. He wrapped his arms around her, held her.
And then the tears started rolling down his cheeks. The tears at how close he’d come to losing her. At how close he’d come to losing the one last person he cared about.
“We really need to get out of here, Mike.”
Mike looked up. He saw Ian, pain in his wide eyes, and he could guess what had happened. Sofia. She’d been tied up, surrounded with that Novichok concoction. There was no way she hadn’t been affected in some way—and the way it usually affected people was in the worst possible way.
There was something else bubbling under the surface with Ian now, too. He was awake. Awake after being forced to unconsciousness by Mike just earlier.
For his own good, of course. He wouldn’t believe it, but it really was for his own good.
“Ian,” Mike said.
“Don’t,” Ian said.
Mike wanted to say more. He wanted to go on.
But he knew when to stop pressing. When to stop speaking.
“Just don’t,” Ian said.
Mike nodded. He looked at Gina, then. Saw the sadness in her eyes. The despair. Because she’d been living in this place longer than he had. She’d grown attached to this place in ways he couldn’t imagine.
She was a part of this place.
And there was no doubt about it.
This place was falling.
“Maybe…” Mike started. “Maybe we can clean it up—”
“It’s not going to work, Mike.”
Mike heard Gina’s words, and his stomach sank. Because he knew she was right. She was telling the truth.
The weapons. The rifles that had been scattered around this place. They seemed to have been confiscated. Taken off the bodies at the first opportunity.
The entire defences of this place had been breached. The lack of security—true security—had been thoroughly exposed.
His home had fallen.
Deep down, he knew it well.
There was no arguing.
It was time to get on the road again.
It was time to find a new home.
He went to stand, and something struck him.
The people. The people who’d come here and torn this place apart. The people whose motives were unclear. The people who’d killed Alison. Who’d killed his daughter.
He couldn’t let them just get away with what they’d done.
He had to make them pay.
He stepped past Gina and Ian, leaving Kelsie behind with Arya.
“Mike?” Gina said.
“I can’t leave this place. Not until I’ve—I’ve killed every last one of them.”
“But—”
“Not until I’ve…”
He fell, then. Fell to his knees. He was shaking. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t, somehow. He just couldn’t.
The reality was dawning on him like a setting sun.
The reality of what he had lost.
Who he had lost.
“Right now,” Gina said, putting a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Right now, we need to get out of this place. We worry about what happens next when we’re out there.”
“I could’ve stopped this.”
“You couldn’t have—”
“I told Holly to stay behind. I told her to stay behind and… and maybe if she hadn’t been here, Emma wouldn’t have got inside. Maybe if I’d been here… maybe if we hadn’t gone on that stupid search for our group, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Stupid search?” Ian said.
Mike stood up. Turned around.
Ian was squaring up to him.
He looked angry. Mad. Grief-stricken.
“Stupid search?” he said. Flecks of spit fell out of the corners of his lips. “My wife is dead. And—and before I could even try and save her, you stopped me. You frigging stopped me and brought me back to this—to this hell. Do you think that’s what I wanted?”
Gina stepped between them. “We can’t lose ourselves. Not now—”
“I’m just saying,” Mike said. “If we hadn’t gone after your wife, maybe my daughter would still be alive.”
“And I’m just saying, maybe it’s about time she paid for what she did to my son.”
He couldn’t hold it in, then. Couldn’t control it.
He threw himself at Ian, fist first, and cracked him across the jaw.
Ian backed away. He put a hand to his jaw.
And then when Mike went in for another punch, he booted him in the stomach.
They fought. They punched. They kicked, and they scratched, and they bit.
But eventually, the tiredness set in.
Eventually, the tears started to build.
And eventually, Mike and Ian lay there on the ground in the falling rain as the storm rumbled above.
“My daughter,” Mike said. “My… my Holly.”
And although Ian didn’t say anything, Mike knew he understood.
Although he didn’t say a thing, Mike knew Ian heard him. He knew he felt his pain.
Because they’d both lost the same, now.
They’d both lost a wife.
They’d both lost a child.
Mike wasn’t sure how long he lay there on the ground, rain pouring down from above.
He wasn’t sure how long Gina, Kelsie and Arya sat at the other side of this alleyway, totally quiet, totally still.