by Ryan Casey
Chapter Twenty-Two
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been locked in this dark room, hands tied behind my back.
But the sooner I got out of wherever this was, the better.
I didn’t know what time of day it was. To be honest, it didn’t really matter. What use was knowing what time of day it was when you were trapped inside wherever-the-hell I was right now? I couldn’t see any cracks of light underneath the door. I couldn’t see through any of the boarded-up windows. All I saw was darkness. And somehow, I figured I wouldn’t be seeing anything but darkness for a long time.
I could hear rain pattering against the tin roof of this place. I supposed that was one giveaway of the outside conditions. Again though, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going outside anytime soon. For all I knew, I wasn’t going outside ever again.
This was my home now. I’d better learn to make the most of it.
I could hear specks of water dripping from above, revealing a leak in the roof somewhere. If I could just stand up, find the source of that leak, then maybe I could find a weakness in the foundations; a weakness that would aid my escape attempt.
But I knew it was just a fantasy. My wrists were tied behind my back. I couldn’t stand because my hands were stuck in one place, and moving upwards didn’t shift those. I’d end up breaking my wrists or something, and even then I wouldn’t get much higher.
I just sat there, the tightness of the cuffs stinging my wrists, my back sore from being perched here for so long. I could smell sweat in the air, and I knew it was probably my own. My mouth was dry as I longed for water. I wasn’t sure how much more time could pass before I became severely dehydrated. How long was it that a person could go without water? A day? Three days? I didn’t know.
The strangest thing, through all of this, was that I still wasn’t thinking about myself. I was thinking about the others. Remy, Haz, Holly, Lionel. I hoped, wherever they were, that they were safe, and that their conditions were better than mine, somehow.
And Sue, Hannah and Aiden, too. I thought about them, with that rival group led by Mike, and the hairs on my arms stood on end, a bitter taste filling my mouth. I held out hope for them, too. But that hope was weak.
Somehow, I knew Mike wasn’t the kind of person who treated his “guests” with any kind of respect.
What monsters this world made of us.
As I sat there, back against the wall, there was something else that scared me, more than anything. And it seemed rather contrary to my situation and predicament.
I was afraid of someone coming in and getting me.
I couldn’t deny the fear I felt about that. Because if someone else that I didn’t already know came in and got me out of here, then that meant I’d have to somehow find it within myself to trust them. And I didn’t know if I could trust them. I’d trusted people in the past and it only hurt more when they were taken away.
Harriet.
Mum.
Even my best friend, Christian.
My body tightened when I thought of Christian. I tried not to think of him too much, in all truth.
We’d been good mates. Mates since we were eleven. We’d just clicked, right away, some clumsiness in a science class that made us bond over football and our joint strange senses of humour. We’d been best friends for years and years after that. My mum used to say I’d end up marrying him someday. Even Harriet said the same, when we got together.
Then Christian met someone, and things changed.
Granted, things always changed when people got in relationships. The dynamics of friendships shifted. Saturday nights out with the lads went from weekly to monthly. Everything transformed.
But Christian, after meeting Ellie, changed completely. He stopped going out altogether. He made excuses. He gave up on our friendship and all our friendships.
I let it happen at first. It pissed me off, but I figured it was just life.
Then, my mum died, and Christian wasn’t there for me.
Then, Harriet and her unborn child died and once again, Christian wasn’t there for me.
I’d tried phoning him, in a drunken fit of grief. I just wanted to know that someone was still there for me; that I mattered to someone who had mattered to me all my adult life.
Christian said he was busy. That he had to get back to Ellie because she got jealous when he spent too long on the phone.
He hammered the nail in our friendship right then.
I took a deep breath and felt a tear roll down my cheek. And as I sat there, I wondered where Christian and Ellie were, and how they were getting along with their lives in this new world. I hoped nobody else would come into my life. Nobody that would make me trust them. Because I’d seen what happened to people you trusted, or what they did to you.
It never worked out for the best—
The door slammed open.
Light filled the room.
As I squinted around it, trying to see, I saw the silhouette staring over at me.
“Hello there,” a voice said. “I think we’ve got a lot to talk about, don’t you?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
When the man pulled the sack over my head and pushed me out of the room I’d been cooped up in for God knows how long, I felt a pure rush of fear fill my body.
I’d seen light when he opened the door, so I knew it was day. There was rain too, which meant the weather must’ve taken a real turn. Right now though, all I could see was the inside of a sack. I could hear footsteps behind me, and feel a hand pressing into my back, edging me forward. I didn’t know where I was being taken to, only that it couldn’t be good.
I’d seen the way this knife-wielding group had hurtled down the road in the direction of Mike and his group. I saw the ferocity in their eyes. I could have no doubts about their intentions for me.
They’d made up their minds about what they were going to do with me.
They were going to kill me.
That’s all I could think of.
And yet, somehow, it seemed better than thinking about what they might’ve done to Remy, Haz, and Holly. To my people. My friends.
I could smell something like meat cooking as I was pushed further along, but the smell was soon masked by the sickly tang of the material sack over my head. I wondered how many more people’s dried lips had touched the inside of this sack; how many more people had been forced to make this dreaded walk, wherever it was to. I wondered if perhaps Remy and Haz had been forced to make it already. Or worse, Holly.
I imagined how terrified she would be, and I remembered my promise to her to reunite her with her mum and her brother, and already I felt like I’d let her down severely.
“Get a move on!”
A hand shoved into my back. I lost my footing, and I went tumbling clumsily down to the ground below. Mud splattered up onto my hands, covering me. I heard a sigh and a tut behind me, then the person grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and pulled me up to my feet. “Watch your footing, idiot.”
Hardly sounded like the most threatening of people. But he was hardly what I’d call “friendly” either.
I walked further, tension building up inside. I had a few more close calls, almost falling to my knees again, but managing somehow to maintain my composure.
And as I walked, I could hear voices and movement either side of me. I couldn’t figure out how many people there were, but there were definitely a few, and they were definitely watching me.
I tried to squint through the tiny cracks in the sack. At least if I saw what I was up against, I could make the necessary plans for it.
But there was no luck. No seeing through this sack.
The hand pressed into my back again. “Up the steps. Just a little further.”
Up the steps.
My body froze.
Up the steps.
They were hanging me. That’s what this was. They were leading me to my death and they were hanging me.
The hand pushed into my back again. “Hey. Keep moving
. No stalling.”
But I couldn’t move. Even if I wanted to, I just couldn’t.
I stood there, completely rigid, before whatever stairs were ahead of me. And in my mind, I saw Holly, and I remembered my promise to her.
I was going to get her back to her family.
Even if it took longer than I’d hoped for, I was going to get her back.
“Hey,” the man said. He went to push me even harder.
But this time, I pushed back.
I swung around, punched him so hard that I knocked him to the ground.
Around me, I heard gasps, and I knew I wasn’t alone.
I fumbled around with the sack over my head, desperate to pull it away, eager to get rid of it before someone could get to me. The least I wanted was a look at my surroundings.
Footsteps approaching.
Voices rising.
I yanked one final time on the sack.
It came free.
I squinted around. I could see six, seven people heading in my direction.
But the stairs to my right. They weren’t stairs to a hanging place at all.
They were just steps up to the front of a caravan.
Wait…
In the distance, at the other end of those stairs, I could see three figures.
Beside them, a dog.
Remy.
Haz.
Holly.
Lionel.
“Scott?” Holly said, relief on her little face.
I raised my hand and went to wave.
Then someone flew into my side and took me down.
“You got me right in the face,” the man said, stuttering a little, like I’d riled him up. “You—you punched me. You idiot.”
As he held me there, pinned down, I got the feeling seeing my friends that this place wasn’t what I’d feared after all. It wasn’t the hellhole I’d been imagining.
“I told you we needed to talk,” the man said, blood dripping from his bust bottom lip. “Well, we really need to talk. Welcome to Ainsfold Caravan Park. And thanks for the punch. Idiot.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The next thing I knew, I was being dragged up those stairs in front of the caravan and sat down in front of the man who ran this place, called Phillip.
Phillip was bald and stocky. He wore glasses, one lens of which was chipped. He looked at me closely as I sat there in his caravan, like he was trying to see into my soul, questioning my true motives, my reasons for being here.
The caravan itself was clean and well maintained. There was a portable television in the corner—not switched on, obviously. There were plates stacked beside the sink, little portable stoves and the like resting on the work surface. It looked like this place was actively being used. I wondered how many more caravans there would be like this, kitted up, ready to face whatever chaos was ahead.
There was something else about Phillip, though, he was the leader of the people who had been wielding the knives that we’d run into on the country road. Which meant he was one of the people who had been pursuing Mike’s group.
I wanted to ask him why he was doing that. What there was in it for him.
But at the same time, I didn’t want to speak at all because just speaking scared me; I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear whatever Phillip was going to say back to me.
“A drink, maybe?”
He gestured at a glass by my side. It was filled to the brim with water.
I moved my tongue against my dried lips, then I shook my head. “No thanks.”
Phillip looked at me through narrowed eyes. I couldn’t get the measure of him. “You’ve been cooped up in that caravan down the opposite end of the site for two days. You really need to drink.”
Two days. Shit. Had it really been that long? If so, then I probably should take Phillip’s advice and drink. I was dehydrated already, my head thumping.
But at the same time, I was uneasy and cautious about drinking.
Could I trust this man?
“Believe me,” Phillip said, standing. “If I wanted to kill you, I could’ve done it by now. And through a far less cowardly method than poison.”
He took my glass, gulped half of it down. Then he handed it back to me. “Drink.”
I took the glass from him reluctantly. I had a few small sips of it that soon turned into long gulps. I was thirstier than I’d realised.
Phillip sat at the opposite side of the table, smiling as he watched me finish. “I’m sorry for your… your hospitality. I appreciate it wasn’t ideal.”
“You could say that,” I said, my voice croaky.
“We have to be totally sure who we are dealing with. Especially with some of the more nefarious figures out there, and what they want to do to us.”
I narrowed my eyes, feigning dumb.
“Don’t even try to deny a thing,” Phillip said. “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
I lowered my head, looked at the perfectly clean, round table that we were sat in front of. “Mike.”
“What do you know about Mike’s group?”
“I know they took three of my people. They killed another. And I know they have a vehicle. A working vehicle. Maybe more than one.”
“My sympathies for your friends.”
“Do you think they’re…” I couldn’t finish my sentence.
Phillip shuffled in his chair. “Honestly? I cannot tell you whether your friends are still with us or not. Just as I cannot tell you whether mine are, either.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that just over two weeks ago, Mike’s group attacked ours. They killed some, mostly our strongest. Then they took prisoners. We were a group of thirty that suddenly became a group of fifteen. That can be a hard thing to swallow for people who believe they are safe. And then when you ran into us two days ago. They had taken more of our people. We tried to retaliate, but we lost them. That’s when you ran into us.”
“Mike’s group,” I said, sipping on some more water. “Why do they do it?”
Phillip shrugged. “Why does anyone do anything? I used to believe in the grey area between good and evil. I used to believe that nobody was inherently bad. That everyone was born a blank canvas, and only through the events they went through in their lives were they crafted into the people they ultimately become.
But since the blackout, I’ve realised a truth. It’s a bitter truth to swallow, but it’s a truth nonetheless.”
“And what truth is that?”
“There is more bad in this world than there is good.”
I leaned back against the frame of my chair. “I like to think that’s not true.”
“And I think you’d be naive to hold those views, especially if you consider some of the people you’ve run into over the last few months.”
I thought about them. The prisoners. The nutty people at the house. And I knew Phillip was right. It was just vocalising it that was hard to do, because it was admitting defeat, in a sense. It was admitting the world was inherently flawed, and the only thing that had been holding it together was the government, the media, the electricity.
“I don’t mean to put a dampener on any grand, idealistic views you may or may not have. But it is every group for themselves now. There is no world building. There are no stews around campfires with strangers, singing songs about the way things are going to be when the power comes back. There is only territory. And this is our territory. Mike’s group took something from our territory, and they took something from your territory, too. That, we have in common.”
He reached over for the large glass of water, pouring some into his smaller glass. I could see where this was going, and what he wanted.
But I couldn’t face up to it.
I just couldn’t.
“You already have fifteen people,” I said.
“And an extra three able-bodied people could count greatly.”
“Mike’s group are armed. They have guns.”
“And we have
weapons and supplies of our own stocked up,” Phillip said. “Not guns, but enough to cause a problem. And, by the way, if you touch any of those weapons without permission, mark my words: they will be the last things you ever touch.”
“Why haven’t you attacked them already?”
“What?”
“If you’re so keen on getting your people back from them, why haven’t you done anything about it already?”
Phillip leaned forward. “You know that isn’t true. You saw what we did. You watched us chase them. We managed to take out two of theirs, all of us surviving. It made us realise that we are more intelligent. We are more organised. Therefore, we are stronger. And with you on side, we can be stronger still.”
I shook my head and looked out of the window. I could see Holly playing with Lionel, oblivious to the horrors we were discussing. “I can’t leave her here.”
“What?”
“Holly. Her mum is with Mike’s people. I can’t just leave her here. If something happens to me…”
I stopped speaking, because I didn’t even want to consider what might happen if something happened to me.
Phillip leaned forward. He put a hand on my shoulder. “You have an opportunity to join us. The attack on their place goes forward with or without you. But if you stand with us, you can not only get your people back, but you can have a place here. It’s good. It’s safe. We have access to supplies and food. And you can be a part of that.”
He leaned back, then.
“If you don’t, you can’t.”
I shook my head. “Sounds a lot like blackmail to me.”
“Call it what you want,” Phillip said. “You don’t get anything for free in this world anymore. And I believe you owe us a great deal after the good faith we’ve shown in you.”
My heart raced and my head span. I looked out, saw the people with their knives, the caravans, the smiles and the laughter. This place could be idyllic. It could be perfect.
But at what cost?
“Are you with us?” Phillip asked.