by Ryan Casey
I blinked a few times, made sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
But when I blinked, they were still there.
I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth as I made for these protein bars. I’d never wanted one more than I did right now.
I scooped them up, as many as I could, hands shaking, knees quivering.
Then I turned around to leave the shop and to let everyone else know what I’d found.
But when I turned, I stopped.
Because there was someone standing in the doorway.
And they weren’t one of my people.
It was a man. He was thin, had rotting teeth, and wide, bloodshot eyes. Under his arm he held a glass jar of gummy bears, half of which looked gnawed on.
And on his white shirt, I saw specks of blood.
“What are you doing with my stuff?” he said.
That’s when I saw what he was holding in his other hand.
A large, sharp chunk of glass.
And it was already smeared with blood.
Chapter Nineteen
The man in front of me slammed the door shut, and darkness filled the room.
I stood totally still. I could hear heavy, nervous breathing, and it took me a few seconds to realise it was my own. I was shaking. I listened out for any signs that this man might be walking towards me, stepping towards me, but I couldn’t hear any.
I just knew that he had that look in his eyes like he was already too far gone. Like there was nothing that could be done to help him. Like he’d already fallen victim to the pains of this world.
And that scared me.
It terrified me.
I took a few deep breaths and I smelled something, then. It was the first time it’d truly hit me in this sweet shop, but there was a distinct sourness in the air.
And it was a sourness that reminded me of something.
Rot.
“What’re you doing in my home?”
The voice sent shivers up my arms, down my spine. My mouth went dry as I tried to say something, tried to think about what I could possibly say that could get me out of this situation.
But in the end there was only one thing I could say. I had to attempt to reason with this man, one way or another.
“I was just finding some supplies for my friends. For my family. You have to realise that. Please.”
The man was silent. Everything was silent. I thought about the blood on that piece of sharp glass he had in his hand. I hoped it wasn’t the blood of somebody I knew, somebody I cared about. No. The blood looked dry. It looked like it’d been there a long time.
But the very fact that there was blood there at all didn’t exactly fill me with confidence.
“Your family. Your friends. I see no family or friends.”
“They’re—they’re outside—”
“Just stealing for yourself because you’re a selfish man. Selfish.”
I heard the man’s footsteps walking towards me and I knew I was going to have to do something. “No,” I said. “I’m not alone here. I have other people—”
“Stealing from my family!” he shouted. “My friends!”
I felt something then. I almost jumped out of my skin when it hit me.
The man’s hand landed right on my shoulder.
He was so close to me now, but still I couldn’t see him, my eyes failing to adjust to the darkness completely. I could smell the rot and the decay on his breath, and I figured his teeth had worn down through eating all those sweets. I wondered how he’d survived. How he’d made it this far with only sweets. Especially considering he didn’t seem to have got through many of his protein bars.
And all it did was intrigue me more about this man and the place he was living.
“My family,” he said. “We… we fought so hard to stay alive. Did bad things. And I’m so sorry for those bad things. But people. People can’t be trusted. Because people are bad. People take things. Take, take, take. They don’t think about other people. Not anymore. Only themselves.”
I heard what the man was saying and I couldn’t help hearing logic to his words. Like what he was saying resonated with me, somehow.
And at the same time, I pitied him. Because he clearly had no trust left. For whatever reason, his trust had been completely and utterly robbed from him.
“I try to keep them healthy. I try to keep them happy. But in the end there’s only so many sweets a kid can eat. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. All I’ve got is the sweets. All I’ve got left now.”
I heard then that the man was sobbing. And although it made me feel guilty, it also made me feel somewhat hopeful. Because, sure, he was unstable. Sure, he was a mess emotionally. But at the same time he had a softer side to him. He wasn’t just some savage lunatic. He’d experienced loss and he was going through the exact same troubles we all were.
Which meant there was hope of me getting out of here after all.
“I’m sorry for what happened to your family,” I said, my jaw tensing as I spoke the words, unable to believe what I was actually about to propose, unsure whether I could honestly see it through. “But maybe you can join me. Maybe you don’t have to be alone anymore. Maybe you can come with us.”
Silence.
Silence in which I found myself reaching behind my back for something—anything—I could use to get myself past this man.
“Your name,” I said, as I felt the shelves behind me. I swore I’d seen some dusty old glass jars on there before. “What is it?”
The man breathed heavier. I could sense his resolve breaking down; feel his urgency to just connect with someone, anyone.
“Michael,” he said.
My fingertips scraped the edge of a glass jar.
“Michael,” I said, as I wrapped my hands around it. “You don’t have to worry. We’re going to get you out of here. We’re going to—”
What happened next unfolded so quickly.
My grip on the glass jar slipped.
The glass jar fell.
And then it smashed all over the hard floor.
Michael’s breathing slowed.
He went totally silent. Totally still.
Then he let out a cry. “You break my stuff!”
It was a good job I ducked to his left because I felt the sharp piece of glass in his left hand scratch the side of my body. If I’d tried to get around his other side, I had no doubt that the blade would’ve dug right into my flesh.
I ran towards the door, Michael not far behind. I just had to get out of here. I just had to slam that door, get outside and then—
I felt his hand grab me, the jar of sweets he’d been holding crashing to the floor.
He threw himself at me, landed on my back. I felt the wind leave my lungs as he pressed me down, then started beating me again and again, scratching at my face.
“Selfish!” he said. “Selfish man!”
I spun around, blocked his punches, his attempted stabbings. I felt something nick the underside of my left arm and I knew then I was screwed. He was going to stab me or I was going to pierce myself on glass. And all this time I just wanted Michael to see my point of view, to see where I was coming from…
But then a thought came to mind.
A thought, as I felt the small, sharp piece of glass piercing my skin.
“Michael,” I said.
He stopped, then. He stopped, his fist raised right about me.
“I lost family too,” I said.
I searched the floor with my hand.
Searched it for something sharp enough.
Something with enough sharpness to do the job.
Michael stayed stationary, his arm lifted above my body.
“I lost my boy. I… I lost him and I tried to lash out at everyone. I tried to make somebody pay, it didn’t matter who. But in the end it… it didn’t leave me feeling any better. I didn’t come out the other end feeling like I’d got what I wanted. I just felt… worse. Far worse.”
Michael still wasn’
t moving. Just breathing. Heavily.
I wrapped my fingers around a sharp shard of glass on the floor beneath me.
“Sometimes you don’t have to do the awful things you think you have to do. Because not everyone is bad, Michael. Think about the world before. Not everyone was bad.”
I tightened my grip on the glass, moved it slowly towards the side of his head.
“You can trust people, Michael. You can trust me.”
He was still for another few seconds.
But then he lowered his hand and I heard him begin to sob again.
“I just miss my—”
I didn’t let him finish.
I slashed the shard of glass right against the side of his neck.
I dug it right it. Pushed it in as far as I could, blood spurting down on me, Michael’s struggles getting harder, more frantic.
And as I lay there, Michael’s blood drooling down on me, his body getting weaker and weaker as the timer of his life ran out, I closed my eyes and I shook my head. Because this was living proof that there was no trust in this world. I’d made Michael trust me. And how had I repaid that? How had I thanked him?
I kept on pushing and pushing until Michael’s flapping hands got weaker.
Until he fell down right by my side, warm blood covering the floor, seeping into my hair.
I stayed there for a few seconds. Unable to move. Unable to budge.
Then I took a few forced deep breaths and I got to my feet.
I stepped outside, covered in blood, but holding a large box of protein bars and a few jars of sweets.
Sarah’s eyes widened. Her face went pale. “What happ—”
“Just take these,” I said, as I walked past her, right into the middle of the street. “Let’s get moving. Now.”
Chapter Twenty
Ian and his people stood overlooking the village as Alex and his friends walked out of it.
The afternoon sun was getting low. Soon, evening would be here, followed by the darkness of night. Ian wanted to be done with this business by the time darkness came along. That was a goal for him. A perfectly valid target.
He zipped up his coat as a cool breeze came over him and watched Alex and his people walk further out of the village through his binoculars. He couldn’t properly see their faces. And he couldn’t hear them at this distance, for sure. But he could see one thing—Alex was covered in blood. He’d run into some kind of trouble.
Ian smiled. Good. He wanted Alex to run into trouble. He wanted him to fight against the odds, to think he was winning, only for Ian to take it all away from him.
That’s what happened to people who went against his orders.
That’s what happened to people who disobeyed.
There were two people in Alex’s group that Ian didn’t immediately recognise. He was good with faces. Good with remembering who he had and hadn’t seen. And he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen this duo at Alex’s camp. And yet they seemed… familiar, somewhat. And that familiarity bothered him. Because the only people he could possibly be familiar with were people he’d already run into. People he’d controlled.
People who had got away.
He lowered his binoculars and smiled then. It hit him like a bullet to the chest… only a nice one. He did recognise this duo. The idiot and his mute mate from back at the static caravan park. Of course. He should’ve remembered they’d slipped the net somehow. Should’ve realised they’d still be out here. To be honest though, he was just impressed. Impressed that they’d made it this far on their own.
There was something else problematic about these two though, as Ian watched them walk into the distance. And that was that Ian suspected they knew something. The location of something—or somewhere. And he couldn’t have them reaching it. He couldn’t have that place finding more people. And he especially couldn’t have people who knew what his plans were warning that place and giving them a heads up that someone was coming.
He had to make sure they didn’t get there.
He had to do something about them.
“What we gonna do about them, Ian? Now not the time to strike?”
Ian swallowed a lump in his throat, heard Bob’s voice loud and clear. He wanted to go down there. He wanted to kill them all. But at the same time, he didn’t think they’d been through enough yet. He hadn’t dangled quite enough hope in front of them—only to snatch it away. That was still a work in progress.
So he turned around to Bob and he smiled. “Patience is a virtue,” he said.
Bob scratched his head, flakes of dandruff kicking into the air around them. “Patience is all well and good until they get to the safe place and warn them we’re coming.”
Ian looked back at the group as they disappeared into the distance. “That isn’t going to happen,” he said. “We’re going to give them more hope. And then we’re going to strike. And when we do, they are going to wish they’d stayed working for us, that’s for sure.”
He looked at Bob.
Then he looked back through his binoculars, right over at the pregnant woman holding her growing belly.
He smiled.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was only when the sun began to set that I realised we’d spent the entire day on the road—and hadn’t made any real progress at all.
It was a chilly night, but nothing I wasn’t accustomed to after the winter we’d already been through. We were out of the village and its surrounding suburban areas now, which left us on a narrow stretch of country road. Well, not entirely country—there were houses every now and then, and in the distance I could see a motorway bridge. It was like we were on the cusp of life, only I knew damn well that all life had gone from here.
At least I had to hope it had. I didn’t want to run into anyone again, not now.
My only focus now?
Getting to this safe haven, whether I liked the idea of it or not.
I looked over my shoulder and saw Ibrahim chatting with Sarah. A sickly taste filled my mouth. I didn’t trust him with her. I wouldn’t trust anyone new with her. I knew it was something I was going to have to confront, something I was going to have to get over. But that was certainly going to be easier said than done.
Further back, Ellie walked with Suzy and the kids. Both of them were deep in conversation, occasionally looking up and over at me, half-smiles on their faces when they noticed I’d seen them. Probably talking about me. Probably talking about how it was time for a change of leadership, some crap like that.
No. I couldn’t be paranoid. I couldn’t think that way. Suzy and Ellie were friends, and good friends at that. They’d been with me for a while now, Suzy especially. I couldn’t start suspecting them. Any concerns they had with my leadership they were perfectly within their rights to have.
Besides. “My leadership.” What kind of an arrogant asshole thought about it in those terms, anyway.
I had a lot to work on, that was for sure.
I looked to my left and saw Harvey walking alongside me. He was quiet, just as Ibrahim had said. But what was all that about him being able to talk but just choosing not to?
Part of me wanted to ask him. Another part didn’t want to ask at all. I had enough on my plate without having to worry about the whims and concerns of this man, that was for sure.
“You wondering why I don’t talk much?”
Harvey’s voice startled me. I almost jumped out of my skin but kept it as subtle as I could so as not to make a scene, of course.
I rubbed the back of my neck, my cheeks blushing like Harvey had been able to read my thoughts all along. “I… I guess. But you’re talking now. So—”
“Speaking causes problems,” Harvey said. “Words. People use them. Manipulate others with them. Find it better only to talk when necessary. Otherwise… the actions speak louder. Things get complicated.”
I kept my focus away from Harvey, on the road ahead. “You been like this since before, or…?”
“Didn’t like talking before.
People… not the biggest fan. But since the end… I can get away with it more.”
He shrugged.
“Didn’t think I’d still be here. Still am. Must be something in it.”
I heard what Harvey was saying, I really did. I just found it irrational that someone would give up speaking almost entirely because they felt that communication was more a hindrance than it was an aid.
“Need to learn to see actions for what they are,” Harvey said.
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
He pointed at me. “You. You need to learn to see actions for what they are. I help you. Ibrahim helps you. We all help you. And still you don’t trust us.”
I felt my face blushing when he said that final sentence. After all, he was right. There was no point hiding it. Of course I didn’t trust them.
“When you’ve been through the things I’ve been through, you find trust is very hard to come by,” I said.
“I was beaten. As a child. Then as a teen. Then as an adult. Always by people I thought I trusted. People I thought I liked. Trust me. I know how hard it is. But still I see actions for what they are. Still I manage. Still I survive.”
I saw Harvey look away. I could tell he’d touched on an area of his life he didn’t like going into too much. I felt guilty for that right away. I didn’t want to provoke him into speaking about something he didn’t want to, after all. Sure, I didn’t trust him—but that was just me. It was the way I was. I couldn’t change that, not easily.
But I heard him. And that counted for something.
“You’re a nutter,” I said.
Harvey turned to me and frowned.
“Like, you’re a nutter. A total nutter. But you’re alright. I see where you’re coming from. And… and I hope one way or another, your silence is justified. And that you bring a bit of that good trusting luck to us. Okay?”
Harvey looked at me, right into my eyes. And for the first time since we’d started talking—the first time since we’d met, in fact—I saw a true, warm smile spread across his face. And this time, as that smile widened, I saw it and I couldn’t help smiling back. I couldn’t help, for a moment, but believe in it. But trust in him.