by Ryan Casey
“But we’re stuck down here. They’re going to find us eventually.”
“Maybe down here is exactly where we want them to be,” I said.
I reached into my bag and pulled out the wire in there.
Then I looked up at the dead bodies lying on the beds.
“Give me a hand here.”
“A hand? What the hell are you—”
“Just give me a hand. You’ll see.”
Kesha reluctantly stumbled over as I told her what I was going to do.
I didn’t know if my plan was going to work. I didn’t know whether I was just living in a dream world.
But I’d be damned if I didn’t try it, as the footsteps of the oncoming group got nearer and nearer…
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Martin Wilson descended the stairs of the hospital towards critical care, knife firmly in hand.
When he joined Darren’s group a week ago, he never expected to end up in a situation like this so soon after the fall of the world. After all, this was the stuff of fiction. This wasn’t the reality of an apocalypse. The reality was that people would band together in the face of adversity. They’d find ways to co-exist and survive together, moving the world forward in a fresh new society. Perhaps that fresh new society would be exactly what the world had needed all along, especially after so many years of social divide, racial tension, and the ever-present threat of war.
Now he saw that his idea of the future was totally at odds with reality.
And he was a big part of that.
The rest of the group were behind him searching the hospital. The door to critical care was partly open though, and Martin was sure he’d heard footsteps down below.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Andy said.
Martin didn’t respond. He wanted to stay as quiet as possible. But he couldn’t deny that this place freaked him out, too. It was the darkness that did it. Of course, he’d grown accustomed to darkness after the death of electricity. But the darkness of a hospital was particularly stark. These places were usually so artificially illuminated with bright white light. It didn’t seem right that it should be so black right now. It was like something out of a horror film.
“You see anything?” Andy called.
“If I saw something, I’d tell you.”
“Alright, mate. No need to lose your rag.”
Martin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he got further down the steps. The smell of disinfectant that had been long ago sprayed still lingered in the air. There was a thickness to the air too, though. A slight taste of rot wherever he turned. He figured the hospital wasn’t exactly the place to be anymore. There’d be the chance of virus. Disease. Now more than ever.
And he never thought it was possible that hospitals could get even filthier.
There was another reason he felt so agitated though, as he turned to the right upon reaching the critical care floor. The group itself. Or rather, the memory of what had happened to Darren just minutes ago.
The man called Will had stabbed him.
He’d stabbed him, then done a runner.
There’d been a moment of silence when Darren fell to the ground. A delayed moment of realisation. Sure, most of it was horror, and it soon turned into an unwavering lust for revenge from the group.
But Martin couldn’t help admitting he’d felt somewhat… relieved. Relieved to see Darren fall. Because he felt free of his grip. He felt like he really had a chance to escape the violence of this world, the depths it was sinking to.
At least he’d felt that way for a moment.
Now he was hunting down Darren’s killers like he was a part of a cult that just couldn’t fold despite the death of its leader.
“You hear that?”
Martin stopped. Truth be told, he had heard something. Right up ahead, in the deeper darkness of the critical care unit.
“I heard voices.”
“Ssh.”
“I’m just saying, I—”
“Be quiet.”
Martin squinted down the corridor. He didn’t just think he’d heard something. He thought he’d seen movement, too.
As he stood there looking down this dark critical care unit, he got a sickly taste in his mouth as the memories from his past came charging back into his present. His little girl, Sadie. The expressionless look on her face when she’d been hooked up to that life support machine. The bruises. The cuts. The blood. If only he’d kept his eye on the road and hadn’t reached into the glove compartment for that chewing gum. If only he’d…
He took a sharp deep breath, steadied his focus, and continued towards critical care.
The knife shook in his hand. What exactly was he going to do, though? Stab them? Threaten them? Make some kind of example of them? Who was he to even do that? Was he the leader of this group now?
He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
Right now, it sure seemed like he was leading the way.
And he was getting closer and closer to that critical care unit.
“You see that on the floor there?”
Martin stopped.
There was a bag on the floor.
It was a rucksack. The rucksack that belonged to the guy called Will.
It was overspilling with food, water, weapons, first aid supplies.
He heard the excitement building behind him.
“Shit. It’s a bloody gift.”
“Wait,” Martin said, lifting his hand.
“Wait? There’s a bag there. They must’ve dropped it or something.”
“Hmm.”
Martin looked around. There was something about all this he didn’t like. Why would the guy drop a bag of such value like this?
“You lot wait here. I’ll check it out.”
He heard a few grumbles of protest and made his way to the bag. He stepped over it, his heart pounding, no noises but the sound of his footsteps, his breathing.
He stood over the bag and looked inside it. Sure enough, it was still packed with supplies.
“Go on,” someone called. “You bringing it back here or what?”
“It’s too easy,” Martin said.
“Too easy? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“The bag. They wouldn’t just leave it here.”
He turned then to the door beside the bag. It was partly open.
Behind it, he swore he heard a light growling.
He looked back at his people and put a finger to his lips.
Then he turned to face the door head on.
He tightened his grip around his knife. Stepped slowly towards the door.
He held his breath, cancelling out that noise.
Nothing could drown out the sound of his racing heart, though.
He took a few seconds. Kept on holding his breath. Stayed calm. Composed. Focused.
He was doing this for his survival.
He was doing this for his people.
He pushed the door open.
He only became aware of the snapping wire sound a moment after he’d heard it.
And by that point, he was already too late.
He felt the mass of weight from behind crash onto him from above the door. He didn’t know exactly what it was. Only that it smelled bad. And the weight was intense.
It was only when his eyes refocused that he realised he was buried under a mass of dead bodies that had dropped from above the door.
He wanted to scream. He was in too much pain to act. He felt his ribs crack. He felt his head smack against the floor. He felt like he was suffocating.
And then he felt cold metal press against his head.
“This is how we’re going to play things,” a fuzzy, distant voice said.
A voice he recognised as the man who’d killed Darren.
“You’re going to back off. You’re going to leave us alone. For good. Or I swear to God we’ll kill every last one of you right now.”
Martin waited to hear the fight f
rom the rest of his group.
But when he glanced up at them, all he saw was fear. Disorder.
They were an empty shell of what they used to be under Darren.
The knife pushed further into Martin’s skull. “Do you understand?”
“Screw you.”
The woman, Kesha, stepped around Martin’s side and pressed her foot onto his broken hand. “You’re going to stay down here for now. You’re going to hand over your weapons. Or we’ll kill your friend here, and many more.”
“Good luck with that,” Andy said.
He lifted his knife and started walking towards Kesha.
Will lifted his knife, walked over and stabbed Andy in the chest without hesitation.
The echo of Andy’s cries rattled around Martin’s ears as he fell back to the floor. The surprise on the faces of the rest of his group said it all. They didn’t expect that to happen. They didn’t think things would play out this way.
Will turned his knife back on Martin. “If anyone else wants to test whether we’re serious, then test away. But just know that more of you will die if you don’t co-operate. Understand?”
“Don’t give in,” Martin mumbled.
“I asked you a question. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” someone muttered.
Then a few more joined in, all of them giving up, all of them surrendering.
As the vision faded from Martin’s eyes, he caught a glance of Will and Kesha looking at one another, half smiling, like they’d done good.
And as the consciousness drifted from his crushed body, he vowed he’d get his revenge somehow.
He vowed he’d make them pay, no matter what it took.
His vision slipped away.
Everything went black.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I looked into Kesha’s eyes and prepared to say a goodbye that I really wasn’t ready for.
The afternoon sun was low. There was a breeze to the air, which was welcome after the sweatiness of earlier, running away from the group at the hospital. We’d driven a few more miles, made sure we were far enough away from them to not have to worry about them for a while. After all, they’d agreed to surrender and stay at the hospital until we left.
We’d been sure to lock and block a few doors just to give us an extra head start though, just in case.
I looked around the car park of the retail park we’d pulled up just outside. Fortunately it was silent and seemed empty, but I had no doubts there’d be someone not so far away. I was growing used to the sight of empty, abandoned cars. Technology given up on and turned away from as soon as it was deemed useless. Quite nice, in a way. A good break that I honestly never expected humanity to make.
But at the same time, terrifying, because of what it represented.
“Well. I guess this is it.”
I heard Kesha’s voice and my stomach sank. There was a bitter taste in my mouth as I thought about Bouncer and I being on our own again. Kesha had become a big part of my life—of both our lives, even if we hadn’t known her long.
And now we were saying goodbye. Because I had a family out there who needed me.
“Yeah,” I said, shoulders slumped as I didn’t even try to disguise my disappointment.
“You know, it isn’t too late,” Kesha said, walking up to me and placing a soft hand on my chest.
“Too late for what?” I could feel my heart beating against her hand, and the warmth of her breath so close to me.
“To change your mind.”
The second she said it, she lowered her hand. I knew why it was. She knew what my response would be already. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just—”
“It’s okay,” she said, nodding and breaking eye contact. “Your family. I get it.”
“I can’t go on while they might still be out there. And you asked me what I’d do. If I found they weren’t home. Well I guess that’s… I guess it’s not something I want to face, but I’d just keep on going. I’d keep on surviving. I’d keep on fighting until I do find them. Because they are all that matter to me in this world.”
Kesha made eye contact with me then, and I saw a glimmer of disappointment. “All that matters?”
I thought about responding with words. But in the end, I knew there were no words.
So I leaned in and kissed her.
I felt the electricity spark through my body as I tasted her sweet lips. A part of me felt guilty. But Kerry and I were finished. As much as I cared about finding my daughter and her, I felt something for Kesha. Something very strong.
And this was our goodbye.
I pulled away after a few seconds. Kesha rested her forehead against mine, looked into my eyes with those pearly blues of hers.
“It isn’t too late for your family either,” she said. Then she pecked me on the lips, just once, and walked over to the car.
I looked down and saw Bouncer glaring up at me, like he didn’t totally approve of what I’d just done.
Kesha got into the car. And as she went to start up the engine, I realised the madness of what I was actually doing. I was on foot again. I was, sure, not totally defenceless, but pretty defenceless. And I was still a good distance away from my family. A good few days away.
I thought about going over to the car window. Saying a final few words to Kesha. Offering her some goodbye wisdom, or whatever the hell people are supposed to say when they’re being torn apart from each other.
Instead, I just lifted my hand and waved, barely able to compose myself. Big wuss.
Kesha lifted her hand and waved too. I realised then that her eyes were red. For the first time since I’d met her, Kesha was crying.
“You stay safe,” she said. “And you find who you’re looking for.”
I smiled as well as I could. “You stay safe too. You stay…”
I heard the engine splutter to life, then give out.
Then again, Kesha tried to start up the car, but it just gave up right away.
“Shit,” she said. “Shitting shit.”
She persevered a bit longer with the car. Tried to start it up. Tried to kick it into gear.
“What’s it doing?”
“Engine’s just not holding,” she said. She climbed out of the car. Opened the bonnet. Stared into it for a few seconds.
Then she looked at me with a pale face.
“What is it?”
“It’s knackered,” she said.
I went over and had a look. Sure enough, smoke coughed out of the engine.
The diagnosis of “knackered” looked pretty much spot on.
We were silent for a few seconds, maybe longer. Silent, as we stared down into the bonnet, the afternoon breeze getting stronger, the only sounds our breathing, our heartbeats, Bouncer’s paws against the concrete.
“So what now?” I asked, breaking the silence.
Kesha looked at me and sighed.
Then, a half-smile tugged at her cheeks.
“Looks like we’re sticking together a little longer than we thought.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Day Twenty-Six
FIVE DAYS on foot and we were closing in on Preston.
To be honest, the journey on foot had taken us a lot longer than we’d expected. We were in Carlisle, which was frighteningly near to home. But I’d learned from our journey so far that it was better not to make estimations about how long it might take us to make the trip back. Maybe a couple of days if we were lucky. Probably slightly more.
We were so close I could feel it.
The weather had taken a turn for the shitty, which was just typical now we were on foot. We spent most of our time trying to find the most sheltered route. Two nights ago, we’d witnessed an amazing thunderstorm. We’d sheltered in an old cabin, and watched the lightning strike trees just metres from us. There was a nervousness, but there was also an adrenaline too, as we’d sat there holding hands, Bouncer growling at the storm. I’d fallen asleep on that porch and dreamed that the lig
htning had brought the electricity back, and that order had been restored, which made it extra cruel when I woke up damp and drooling with Bouncer licking at my face.
I was just glad Kesha was by my side.
“How’s the feet?” I asked.
She tilted her head, like it wasn’t that big a deal. “I’ll manage.”
“You sure you don’t want any more—”
“I’ll be fine, okay?”
I could tell that Kesha wasn’t okay, though. She’d got some nasty blisters a day back, and they were severely hampering our progress. I couldn’t exactly say that aloud though. She was a determined person who wouldn’t take too kindly to being told that she was a hindrance or a burden. And I didn’t want to feel that way.
But I was definitely moving a lot slower for having her by my side.
And still, that didn’t bother me somehow.
She struggled on for a few more miles before finally collapsing in a heap.
I ran over to her. “Hey.”
“I’m okay.”
“Just let me—”
“I’m okay!”
She hit me square in the chest, really hard, actually. She pulled off her shoe, and her sock.
When I saw the blisters, I couldn’t help feeling sick.
They looked bad. Way worse than when I’d last seen them. They were going a deep shade of red too, as infection crept up.
I reached into my rucksack, the rain falling down, and found some antiseptic we’d taken from the hospital. “You can put some of this on it if you want.”
“The rain’ll sort it.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Kesha, you can trust me. I’m just trying to help. Okay?”
She looked at me then and I saw a different look in her eyes. Like she was a hurt child, and she didn’t like that I was trying to help her out.
“Sorry,” she said. “I just… When I was younger. My dad. He treated me like I was dumb.”
I dabbed some of the antiseptic onto a cotton bud, doing my best not to dampen it in the rain too much. “Well he’s dumb for thinking you’re dumb. Keep still.”
Kesha held her breath as I pressed the antiseptic against the blister. She flinched, tried to grab the cotton bud from me.
“Just trust me. Okay?”
She reluctantly nodded.