by Ryan Casey
But even when they were gone, I knew that in that darkness, something bad was out there.
Something was on the horizon.
Something was looming.
And all I could think about was that window in my dream, and the bloodied hand pressed up against it.
Bobby’s hand.
Chapter Six
The following day, I was out hunting with Bobby, Peter and Will, and the events of the previous night were nothing more than a distant memory; a bitter aftertaste lingering on the tongue.
It was a scorching morning, which probably went some way to covering up last night’s ills. We were in the woods, surrounded by trees, a setup we found ourselves in rather often. I could hear the wind against the trees, the birds singing above, still oblivious to the changes in the world, probably making the most of it. The taste of the thick, sloppy oatmeal I’d had for breakfast clung to the back of my throat. And my body was in the grips of a constant shakiness, a comedown from the adrenaline surge of last night.
The hunting was something Peter and I were keen on training the kids at. After all, while we had our own livestock on the farm, there were no guarantees that Bobby and Will were going to be so lucky forever. There could be no certainty, nothing taken for granted, where this new world was concerned. So teaching them how to catch their own animals for themselves was going to be pretty essential going forward.
That said, they weren’t exactly enthusiastic about their new endeavours.
Bobby’s bottom lip was turned. He was looking down as Peter explained a trap to him and Will. Will seemed a little more receptive, but still not exactly overly enthusiastic.
The trap was simple and primitive. A ground snare positioned on a game trail that we’d observed. The snare, made from some fishing line we’d had stocked up in the cottage, was positioned at head height for a small animal and tied around a tree. Then a noose was tied with the other end, propped up by two small pieces of wood, and kept as camouflaged as possible. A trap like this might be primitive, but it was an effective way of catching all kinds of animals. We’d caught a few rabbits over time, and even a few deer.
It was weird, seeing Bobby react in this way to the trap. After all, I’d tried to educate him about a self-sufficient lifestyle when we lived back at our homestead. He knew that the animals needed to be slaughtered from time to time. That was just a part of that way of life.
But now we were outside of the illusion of needing to be self-sufficient and into the reality; something had changed with Bobby. It was like he realised that this wasn’t playing around anymore. This was the real deal. And the real deal couldn’t exactly be an easy thing for a nine-year-old kid to adjust to.
I put my hand on his back and smiled at him. “Go on. You and Will should try setting up one of these.”
Bobby’s shoulders slumped. “Do I have to?”
“Yes. You do. Because your life might depend on it one day. I’m not going to be here forever, son. And when I’m gone… when everyone’s gone, you’ll remember this day and you’ll remember what me and Peter taught you. So go on, you two. Get gone and get making these traps. You won’t regret it.”
Bobby sighed and walked off with Will reluctantly. Peter and I watched them as they went on their way. Peter had his arms folded and was smiling.
“He’s a good kid,” he said.
“Can’t argue with that,” I said. “But he needs to learn to be an adult.”
“It’s not going to be easy for him because he isn’t an adult.”
“It’s not easy for anyone. None of this is. But there aren’t any shortcuts. He has to do these things in order to survive.”
“Hmm.”
I frowned. “What was that?”
“What?”
“‘Hmm’. Sarah always says I do that when I’ve got something on my mind. What’s bothering you?”
Peter sighed. “It’s just what happened last night. Can’t stop thinking about it.”
Peter was right to have last night on his mind, of course. Especially after what Jon and his people had found in the barn. The body. Brian. The body I hadn’t got rid of. That was somebody to them. So how did we know they weren’t going to react?
“We’re right to think about it,” I said. “We should always be—”
“You had a chance,” he said. “A chance to accept those people. And you turned them away.”
I frowned. “Wait. You’re saying I was in the wrong?”
“I’m saying you have no way of knowing what the motives and intentions of those people were. Just that you killed one of them. And then you let that person’s group find the body. Do you have any idea what kind of danger that could put us in? That it could put your family in? Your son in?”
I didn’t like to hear Peter guilt-tripping me, but he was right, dammit. I’d put people in danger with what I’d done. I had to own that, as hard as it was.
“We have more than enough to defend our home if that’s what it comes to.”
“I’d just rather it didn’t come to that,” Peter said. “That’s all I’m saying. I—”
“Dad!”
That voice again. That shout. The tension it sparked inside me as memories of last night flooded my mind, coursed through my bloodstream in thick, gloopy adrenaline.
I ran. Ran in the direction of my son. Ran after his voice.
The thought of anything happening to him wounded me.
I couldn’t let that happen.
When I emerged from the trees to where he was, I saw what he’d shouted about.
There was a rabbit. It was caught—still alive—in one of the traps I’d set the other day. Bobby and Will were looking at it as it stared back at them, terrified, like it didn’t know what to do. It was black, like it was an escaped house pet or something.
“What—what do we do now?” Bobby asked.
And as I walked over to it, I felt guilt. Of course I did. Taking out any living thing wasn’t easy.
I crouched beside it. Stroked its head.
Then I switched off from the emotion of the situation and returned myself to reality. “You take its neck between your hands and you twist it. Hard.”
I looked up at my son.
And in his eyes I saw that look I’d seen so many times.
Horror.
“I don’t… I…”
“You’re going to have to do it eventually, Bobby.”
“But it’s not fair.”
“No. No it isn’t fair. But it might keep you alive.”
Bobby lowered his head and I felt bad for him, my sweet, sensitive lad.
I walked over to him. Put a hand on his shoulder as the rabbit kicked and struggled.
Bobby looked up into my eyes.
“You can do this, son. I’m sorry you have to, but you can.”
He studied my eyes for signs that I was going to let him off the hook.
And then he said something that would stay with me, but not for the reason I might’ve expected.
“That rabbit. It’s just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s not fair.”
I listened to my son’s words as they echoed around my mind. And I knew they were right. I knew they were true.
Then I heard a crack.
I looked over my shoulder.
Will had the rabbit’s neck in his hands.
Its body had gone still.
He looked up at Peter and me, a mixture of pride and sadness in his eyes.
I looked back at him and I nodded.
“Come on,” I said, patting my son on his shoulder. “We can try again tomorrow.”
But as we walked away, rabbit in hand, it was those words Bobby had said that I couldn’t get out of my mind.
It’s just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Chapter Seven
Another day passed by and it wasn’t long before I found myself in familiar territory again.
By Bobby’s bedside, trying to convince him that he didn’t have to worry abou
t his room or about the darkness.
But also something else now.
Breaking the news to him slowly but surely that he wasn’t going to be allowed out of his room at night anymore.
He sighed, the little candlelight fluttering by his bedside. He looked up at me with those big brown eyes like he always did. “But why?”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “I told you why. What happened last night with those bad people. If you’re out there… they might hurt you. And we can’t have that happening, can we?”
Bobby shook his head like he didn’t understand. “But those people. Why are you so sure they’re bad?”
I wished I could answer him sincerely. But what could I say? They were bad because I’d made an enemy of them? That they weren’t really the bad ones, not from their perspective, but were really just doing nothing more than trying to protect themselves?
I leaned over. Kissed him on his forehead. “You don’t have to worry your mind with that. Just know that there’s a reason you have to stay in here tonight, okay?”
“Forever?”
“What?”
“Can I not look at the stars forever?”
“Of course. This is just for now. Just until we know everything is okay again. Right?”
I saw Bobby’s eyes turning as he tried to get his head around my proposal. It must seem so unfair to him. And it was. It was a cruel world. I just hoped somehow, someday, kindness would shine through.
“Dad?”
“What?”
“Are you mad at me for not killing the rabbit?”
I leaned over again. Stroked his hair. “Bobby, I could never be mad at you. These things take time. I get that. I really do.”
I lay there with him for a while. Lay right there, beside him. I stared up at the window above and remembered where I’d seen it. The dream. The dream where Bobby’s hand had appeared, smeared in blood.
It sparked a sense of unease inside me, just briefly. But long enough to make me think. Long enough to make me wonder.
Just a dream.
Just a dream.
I got up then. Bobby’s eyes were closed. I didn’t know whether he was sleeping or pretending to sleep. I knew Sarah said he sometimes pretended. But right now, he seemed pretty calm. He seemed relaxed.
Usually, I’d walk away. I didn’t want to risk waking him.
But tonight, something drew me back towards him.
I leaned over. Kissed his head.
“I love you, son.”
Then I walked away, over towards his bedroom door.
“Dad?”
I smiled a little. Of course he wasn’t asleep.
I turned around. “What?”
“Can I sleep in yours and Mum’s bed tonight?”
I heard Bobby’s words and I wanted to say yes.
I so wanted to say yes.
But Bobby was going to have to be tough.
And this would just be taking a step back where his toughening up was concerned.
“You’ll be okay,” I said. “I promise.”
I blew my son a kiss, and he half-smiled back at me.
Then I closed his door and stepped out of the room.
I stood there in the corridor. I held the padlock in my hand. I didn’t want to lock him in here. But then I thought about all the trouble it could prevent if I did. And how much safer things would be.
So I put the padlock on his door.
I locked it.
I knew Bobby wasn’t going to be leaving his room tonight.
And already I felt safer about it.
I looked down the hallway, out of the little window in the main door.
I looked at the stars. The dark sky. The moon, merely a slither of a crescent in the sky above.
I wanted to stay here.
I wanted to stay with my son.
But in the end, I turned away from his room and made my way back to Sarah.
Bobby was safer tonight.
I had to believe that.
Chapter Eight
Jon looked at the homestead from a distance and tried to figure out the best course of action.
It was dark. All the lights at the homestead had gone out. The breeze was cooler than last night. Overhead, he could hear the rumbling of storm clouds, threatening to burst all over them. He knew they should’ve pressed on with their journey back home. He knew they couldn’t be far away.
But something had kept him out here.
Something had made him want to keep this homestead in sight.
And that something was the leader of this place. Alex.
He looked to his right and saw his people beside him. He knew they weren’t totally happy with his plan of action. And he couldn’t blame them, really. Choosing staying out here and scouting the homestead over heading back home, that was quite a choice. But so far it seemed like his people were respecting his wishes, at least. And that counted for something.
Especially with what he was considering doing next.
Vincent, one of his people, walked up beside him. He didn’t turn to Jon, though. Just kept on looking ahead instead. But Jon knew Vincent by now. He knew he was a cautious lad, and that he had something on his mind. He knew he was going to say something to him.
So he looked at him. Narrowed his eyes.
Vincent sighed. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”
Jon heard Vincent’s hesitation and he knew he was right to have his concerns. After all, what he was proposing was reckless. It could put them in danger.
But these people…
The way the man called Alex had spoken to him…
That wasn’t the sort of thing he could just let go.
He’d always prided himself on being a forgiving man. It was a lifelong battle he’d struggled with. When he worked as a manager at a printing firm, he’d learned to turn the other cheek, to give people second chances, against his instincts to the contrary.
But since the world had collapsed… a shift had occurred inside Jon once again. It was a subtle one at first. But in time, it grew. It developed. And before he knew it, he was putting himself first again. Climbing on the ladder of other people’s backs again. Making tough choices that left people behind. Losing his sense of forgiveness.
And that man, Alex.
The way he’d spoken to him.
The way he’d looked at him.
It turned Jon’s insides.
“You saw what I saw,” Jon said. “That was Brian’s body in their barn. They slit his throat.” He raised his voice now, trying to rally his troops. “If they could do that to Brian then they could do that to anyone.”
“You didn’t seem too defensive of Brian when you were banishing him,” Vincent said.
Jon narrowed his eyes. Vincent had a point of course. He’d banished Brian for stealing rations. He didn’t want to set such a precedent of thievery in his camp.
“I banished him, sure. But Brian was a good man. A troubled man, but a good man. He didn’t deserve this.”
Silence followed. Jon wasn’t sure whether it was in approval or suspicion about what he said.
“All we know is that these people have a camp, which means they have food and supplies. And right now we are hungry. So unless we want a repeat of what happened last time, I’d say we get moving in there. That we take what we can. These people had a chance to be diplomatic. They failed. So we try another approach.”
“I’m—I’m not sure.”
Jon’s stomach sank when he heard Paul’s voice.
Paul wasn’t exactly young, but he didn’t act his age at all. He worked hard, but he was reluctant.
Especially about some of Jon’s more… bold ideas.
“I’m not asking you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with doing. Not in this case. I’m just asking you to raid this place and take what we can.”
“Including the women?” Martin said.
Again, Jon’s mouth went dry. He didn’t like to talk about the women. That was his
own project. “Not this time. It’s too risky.”
“And—and if we bump into someone when we’re in there? W-what then?” Paul said.
Jon looked at Paul and he thought about caking over the truth with some kind of glossy lie. But in the end, he knew it was better to simply be honest. “Then you know what you have to do.”
Jon looked around at his people.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Some reluctance. Some pause.
And then the nods began.
The “yeahs” began.
Jon looked at Paul.
He saw him shaking his head, rubbing his arms.
And then eventually, he sighed and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Good,” Jon said.
He looked over at the homestead.
Then he tightened his grip on his knife.
“Let’s get to work.”
Chapter Nine
I saw the window and the bloodstained hand but this time I didn’t hear a scream.
Just silence.
But the silence was worse, somehow. Because even though I used to associate silence with peace, that wasn’t the case, not anymore. Not since the power had gone out. Not since the hum of the electricity had stopped. I associated that silence with fear. With pain. With loss.
And all I could see was my son’s hand pressed up against that window.
Total silence.
I wanted to get up. To move towards it. I wanted to shout out and ask if he was okay. But I couldn’t, because I was pinned down. My lips were sealed tightly shut.
I tried to move every single muscle in my body but I was paralysed. Trapped. Held down by a weight I couldn’t even see.
And all the while I could see my son’s hair emerging at the window.
I could see his face.
His eyes.
And the total look of fear across his mouth.
He was covered in blood.
Dripping with blood.
A drop of that blood fell between the crack in the glass.
My son followed.
Hurtled towards me.
“LET ME LET ME LET ME—”
My eyes opened.