The Outcast's Journey

by Rebecca Fernfield

  “Stop! Or I’ll shoot,” he shouts, his voice laced with fear.

  The gun quakes in his hand and slips, the barrel pointing to the floor. Rick takes his chance and walks quickly forward as the man fumbles with the butt of the gun, pulling it up again to point in his direction.

  “I said stop!”

  “What’s going on?” Justin shouts and Rick turns to see him stumble out of the kitchen door, crowbar in hand, barefoot and naked but for pyjama bottoms.

  “Thieves!” Rick shouts in reply.

  “No!” Justin shouts in defiance and steps next to Rick. The gun lifts and points at him.

  The door of the brick shed judders and a head pokes out.

  “They’re in there?”

  “Yeah, that woman, Ruth, and her boyfriend.”

  “What? The woman that Cassie rescued?”

  “Yep!”

  “I’m sorry!” Cassie shouts.

  “Shut up!”

  “Don’t let them take the food,” Cassie shouts above the rebuke as a man, far larger than Cassie’s captor, backs out from behind the door, bending as he hauls something heavy. The scratch of a weight being dragged sounds and then he steps out onto the snow with a grunt and appears in full view a large and lumpy bag at his feet. He glances up, stares at Rick and then to Justin behind him.

  “Tell them you’ll shoot if they move a muscle. Get that other bag filled up,” he shouts into the room.

  Rick grinds his teeth, he’s never taken well to orders from idiots in the past and this one is no exception. He takes a defiant step forward, his eyes locked with the gunman’s. If he were close enough, he’d smell the stink of fear pouring off of him.

  The man behind scowls. “I told you to tell them-”

  “Stop or I’ll shoot!” the gunman shouts, his eyes flitting from Justin to Rick.

  “Move it, Ruth!”

  “I’m nearly done,” she calls back.

  Cassie struggles against her captor, Rick can see the rage in her eyes as the woman calls back. More shuffling and then Ruth appears from behind the door, another canvas bag full of their food! Rick’s anger grinds—he knows just how much effort went into making the fruit, vegetables and meat fit to keep through winter. Hell, he’d even helped peel some of the carrots!

  “There’s solar panels on the roof,” Ruth pants as she stands, the heavy bag at her feet. The contents clink as she gives it another tug. She’s not having the strawberry jam!

  “So? I’m not going up there to get them off!” the gunman responds.

  “Wes, you’re so dumb!” the heavy-set man replies.

  Wes flinches.

  “So,” Ruth continues in a condescending tone, “they’ve got a freezer and I bet it’s full.”

  “Oh,” Wes replies. “Like with pizza and fish fingers?”

  “Huh?”

  “Maybe.”

  “How we gonna cook them? There’s no oven back at home.”

  “Well there could be curry or stew … for crying out loud, Wes! It doesn’t matter. We should just get whatever’s in there.”

  “Alright,” he replies with a hint of annoyance, but remains still.

  “Move it then!”

  “What?”

  “Go and check it out!”

  “How am I supposed to do that? I’ve got hold of my woman. She’ll run off if I let her go.”

  “Benson!” Ruth says exasperated. “Tell him to get those blokes to kneel and put their hands behind their heads.”

  “What, like they do on the telly?”

  “Yes, or in films.”

  “Which films?”

  “I’m gonna lose it with you in a minute! It doesn’t matter which films.”

  “Let me sort this!” Ruth steps up from behind Benson and steps next to Wes. “Right. You two on your knees,” she commands. “Hands behind your back, or Wes is gonna shoot you.”

  Rick drops to his knees and he hears Justin’s grunt as he follows suit.

  “I’ll go in and check the freezer – there’s a pantry too.”

  “Good!” Benson calls as Ruth walks past him.

  Rick fights the urge to grapple her to the floor as she passes.

  “Don’t get anything with sweetcorn in it,” Benson shouts as she steps up into the kitchen.

  “And I want pepperoni,” Wes shouts.

  “Shut up about pizza!” Benson chides then disappears back into the store room. Seconds later he reappears with a long and thick handled wrench and stares at Rick as he bats it against the palm of his hand. Rick holds his stare, he won’t give into fear. Stay calm. Think logically. Breaking the stare, he looks at Cassie, the anger hasn’t left her and he can tell she’s just waiting for the right moment to kick off and starting fighting back. She shuffles her feet.

  “Keep hold of that woman,” Benson shouts.

  “I am,” Wes returns and yanks Cassie back. “Stay still!”

  Chapter 27

  A scream cuts through the air and Cassie breaks her gaze with Rick and looks instead to the farmhouse. Grunts and the sound of glass breaking are coming from the kitchen.

  “What the!” Benson exclaims from behind. Startled, Wes jerks and knocks into her. Unbalanced, she topples forward pulling Wes with her.

  “Whoa!” he calls as he loses his balance.

  Cassie takes her chance and thrusts her head back. It connects with Wes and what feels like his cheekbone. He shouts out in pain. Just wait! Her back arched, she powers her torso forward, raising her tied wrists, hands clenched as a huge fist and jerks her arms up with every ounce of strength she can muster. Her knuckles sink deep into soft flesh and the coarse fabric of his jeans. Wes’ scream is guttural this time. Hah! His balls must be up in his belly.

  Falling to the ground, he catches Cassie’s shoulder. His weight presses down on her and she’s pinned to the ground with his body laid across hers. The gun lies next to him and she watches as Rick springs to his feet and lurches forward. A grunt from behind and a hand grabs the barrel and picks it from the ground just as Rick lunges to grab it from the snow. He passes with a blur, his feet kicking snow into her face as she digs her hands, palms down, to push Wes off. He groans as Rick grunts behind her.

  As she turns to look, movement from the farmhouse catches her attention and she watches as Ruth’s heeled boot steps into the snow. Her face and shoulders are hidden at this angle, her back arches unnaturally. As she steps out further she sees why; Becca stands behind Ruth, her face tight with anger. Her fingers are entwined around Ruth’s hair, close to the scalp and beneath her chin she holds a kitchen knife, its long and serrated blade held tight to the skin. A grunt from behind and a thud tells her that Rick is still grappling with Benson.

  Bang!

  Startled, Cassie’s heart jumps with a painful thud. The yard becomes silent as Justin flails, staggers back then sinks to the floor, a dark and growing patch stark across his bare chest. The blade slices at Ruth’s neck as Becca pushes her into the yard with violent force in her effort to get to Justin. Ruth screams and clamps her hand to her throat.

  “Justin!” Becca cries as she skids to her knees stopping at his side, bloodied knife still in hand.

  Ruth staggers past the pair, hand to her throat, blood seeping between her fingers.

  A grunt of rage sounds behind Cassie and she turns from the bloody scene to watch as Rick gives Benson a punch to the cheek that knocks him back against the storeroom wall. He lands with a thud, his head crashing onto the sill, then slumps defeated, his eyes wide with horror. He shuffles back as Ruth passes by Cassie, a trail of blood dark against the pure white of the snow.

  “Ruth!” he gasps then screws his eyes and turns his head away from the approaching woman.

  “Help me!” she gurgles.

  Cassie grabs the gun at her feet, careful not to touch the trigger, and passes it to Rick.

  Rick can barely look at the injured woman and stares instead at Cassie as he takes the gun from her.

  “She’ll need st
itches in that!” he says with a grimace, his stomach lurching at the thought of a needle pulling thread through her sliced flesh.

  “Ugh!” Cassie returns as her eyes widen and she looks over his shoulder to Ruth’s back.

  His thoughts turn to Justin as he looks past Cassie and to the centre of the yard where Justin kneels, slumped against his wife, a gunshot wound close to his heart. Walking across, he can see Justin’s ribs rise and fall. He’s still breathing. A little of the tension leaves him. There’s hope still, but what chance does he have without a team of emergency surgeons or even a doctor?

  Movement at the kitchen door catches his eye and Sebastian steps out followed by the men of his group.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Robbery! Justin’s been shot.”

  “What can we do to help?”

  “Are any of you doctors?”

  “I know first aid and Ella, my wife, is a herbalist,” he says stepping closer.

  “Right! Can you fix a bullet wound?”

  “Ruth needs help!” Wes shouts still clutching at his groin. “She’s bleeding.”

  “Her throat’s cut,” Rick says by way of explanation.

  “Her throat?” Becca looks up startled. “Did I do that?” she asks looking at Rick with a questioning frown.

  “I don’t know, I didn’t see what happened, but you had a knife to her throat …”

  “Oh, no! I never meant to … not really.”

  Sebastian strides over to Ruth as she kneels facing the storeroom and crouches to her, speaking in low, gentle tones Rick can’t hear. He turns his attention to his friend.

  “Let’s get him inside,” he says to Becca. She nods in return and pushes up from her knees placing her hand beneath his armpit. Rick takes his other side. “Can you stand?” he asks. Justin grunts then pushes to his feet in pain. “Take him to the living room,” Becca says. “I don’t think he’ll make it upstairs. Cassie, can you get some clean sheets and lay them on the settee, please?”

  “Yes,” she answers without hesitation and disappears into the house.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Sebastian shouts back.

  “Oh?”

  “No! It’s not deep, just bleeding, not cut into the jugular,” he replies as Rick takes Justin’s arm and places it over his shoulder, bearing the weight of his friend as he walks them towards the door.

  “Then get rid of them,” Rick calls back. “Use this,” he says handing the gun to the man standing closest to him. “Victor, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Victor returns with a frown.

  “Take this to Sebastian. Tell him to see those scumbags off the property—for good!”

  Chapter 28

  Relieved that the wound is only superficial, Sebastian takes Ruth’s hand and helps her to stand and scrutinizes the other two thieves.

  “It’s only a flesh wound, Ruth,” he says in his gentle tones. She sags at his words and leans into his chest.

  “She’s alright then?” Benson asks.

  “Yes, Becca only nicked her with the knife.”

  “It’s me that’s in agony,” Wes complains.

  “You’re all very lucky,” he says, in a smooth tone.

  “Lucky!”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you could feel the pain I feel.”

  “Shut up, Wes!”

  “Yes, you’re lucky,” he says ignoring the men’s whining, “because if it had been me you’d stumbled across I would have finished you all off.” The gentle tone of his voice doesn’t waver. “Now,” he continues, taking the gun from Victor, “if you please, I’ll walk you to your car. Brother Victor, fetch the lamps from the kitchen and ask the brethren to come over, we have some vermin to dispose of.”

  “Dispose of?”

  “Sorry. Did I say dispose of? I only meant that we should take you to your vehicles and see you on your way.”

  They walk in silence, solar lamps lighting the track, until they reach the car hidden behind the bend. As Benson slides into the driver’s seat Sebastian, one hand on the door, leans in. “I trust that you won’t visit us again, Benson? I don’t like visitors to come unannounced to my property.”

  “But-”

  “I will say this only once—if you do, I will personally finish the job that Becca started,” he says with a look that he hopes conveys deep earnest across to Ruth in the passenger seat.

  Benson looks from Ruth, hand still held across the gaping wound, and back to Sebastian, a flicker of defiance still lurking in his eyes.

  “It wouldn’t be my first kill,” he finishes with a smile and watches with immense satisfaction as the fight leaves Benson’s eyes and the man turns the key in the ignition then shifts the gears into first with a trembling hand.

  Sebastian closes the door with a firm push and smiles beatifically through the glass. If they do come back he’ll take great delight in making them realise their mistake. He watches as the car does a U-turn, rolls down the hill and disappears into the dark. “It’s cold tonight,” he says turning back to the brethren. “Let’s go home.”

  Dan pulls Monica to him, her naked backside warm against his front. He hasn’t felt such peace since … he can’t remember when! Maybe never. He kisses her cheek and she murmurs and pulls his hand to her lips, kissing his fingers.

  “I never thought I could be happy again,” he blurts then bites his lip. He wants to be honest with her, tell her everything, wants to know everything about her. He feels battered, bruised by the past months, but now he wants to take her into his heart. Suddenly his world has collapsed to only her.

  “Are you happy?” she asks.

  “Yes,” he whispers to her ear. “I know now is … a difficult time, but I feel that I can’t be without you. You’ve touched a place in me that I never knew existed.”

  “I have?”

  “Yes,” he replies then lies silent, waiting for her to speak. She remains quiet. “Are you happy?”

  “I don’t know how I feel. I like being with you, but I feel that I shouldn’t. My husband died only months ago … we had our problems, but I should be a grieving widow … and Reece, I’ll never stop feeling his loss, but … I’m happy that we’ve found each other … the world is … the rules are different now … we have to look after each other.”

  “Yes, I feel that too,” he says stroking her shoulders and leaning down to kiss her skin.

  “The plague destroyed everything that mattered to me—ripped my son and my husband from me.” She lies silent then heaves a sigh. “Why did it happen, Dan? Why is God so cruel? I’ve lost everything. Everybody has lost everything. The world is destroyed.”

  Dan grits his teeth and takes a breath. The blackness of self-loathing and despair rises with an intensity that seems unbearable. “A man caused it, Monica.” He bites at the words. “A greedy, ruthless man who only thought of the power and riches he’d get by selling the most powerful weapon on the planet to despots and tyrants.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The plague was man-made, Monica. It wasn’t God’s fault at all.”

  “I hope that man is in hell, Dan.”

  “Yes, Monica, I think he is,” Dan sighs and clenches his jaw as the sharp ache of guilt washes over him.

  The story continues in The Path to Destruction, Book 4 in A World Torn Down series.

  Author Notes

  Hey there! You’re here again which can only mean that you’ve read to the end of the second instalment of A World Torn Down. That makes me happy. I hope that you’ve enjoyed reading the story because I’ve certainly enjoyed writing it. I can’t wait for you to read the next part – Cassie, Dan, Deacon and Rick have a way to go before their journey is over and there are more survivors to meet. Let’s hope they’re not all as unwelcoming as Saskia and Sergei!

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  I’ve always loved stories that pit man against the elements or overwhelming forces and wanted to write something exciting that would see ordinary, and perhaps quirky, characters in extraordinary situations. How we react to extreme situations fascinates me and it’s not always the obvious candidates that become the heroes of the hour. We’re complex beings. We have emotions, desires and needs. The quietest of men or women can become ruthless when threatened and, when the world turns upside down, we may survive by drawing on strengths we never knew we had. Those who have seemed stalwarts of morality and right can break and turn bad. The survivors aren’t always the good and the strong. What would you do to save yourself?

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  Also by Rebecca Fernfield

  Dark Powers Rising

  If you enjoy darkly dystopian post-apocalyptic thrillers with danger and suspense and well-developed characters then you’ll love Dark Powers Rising.

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