by Ryan Casey
Ian was totally still for a few seconds. Totally silent, too. He looked taken aback by my words. And also somewhat impressed.
He lowered his gun. “Damn, Alex. Damn. See, I was wrong about you. You do have some nerve about you. I like that. I respect you.”
He walked right over to me. Looked right into my eyes. He was so close that I could smell the sourness on his breath, hear his heavy inhalations and exhalations.
Then he reached over, spat out the cigarette, stamped it into the ground, and put a hand on my shoulder.
“There’s also no one I respect more than a man who’s willing to go to the ends of this earth for his family. So! A new proposal.”
He spun around, lifted his gun and fired at Suzy’s head.
I watched the bullet hit.
I watched her eyes, open and watching one second, then gone the next.
Her head cocking back.
Her body falling to the ground.
I saw the fear in Will’s eyes. Saw the momentary panic.
I couldn’t think.
I couldn’t feel.
I couldn’t move.
All I could do was—
“Still not taking us seriously?” Ian asked.
Then he turned the gun on Will.
“No!” I shouted.
He tickled the trigger as Will stood there, shoulders slumped, tears rolling down his cheeks. He was staring down at his mum’s bleeding head. Staring at her static body.
Because there was no doubt about it. She was gone.
He walked over to me again. And I didn’t see that performance anymore. I saw total conviction. Total meanness.
“In case I didn’t make myself clear,” he said, “this is how things are going to be from now on. You belong to me now. Every single person here belongs to me now. So you’re going to turn away from here—hey, hey, stay with me—you’re going to turn away from here and you’re going to walk, Alex. You’re going to walk and you’re going to take some time for careful reflection. And in time, when you’ve built yourself back up, got over your losses, yada yada—which you will—you’re going to find a way to provide for us. Okay? You’re going to find a way. But anyway. I figure I need an insurance policy. Boys, round them up.”
I didn’t realise what was happening until it was already too late.
Ian’s people grabbed Ellie. They grabbed Ibrahim. They grabbed Kaileigh, and Will, and Sarah.
“No!” I shouted.
I tried to lunge towards Sarah, but someone grabbed my arms. Then they threw me down, kicked me, punched me, and I couldn’t do a thing about it. Nothing.
Ian turned around then. He walked back to his truck.
I wanted to go over to him.
I wanted to fight back.
I wanted to stop him.
He climbed into his truck, then looked back at me as I writhed on the ground.
“We’ll be watching,” he said. “We’ll never be far behind. Remember that.”
And then he turned around in his truck, as did the rest of the trucks, and he drove away, back off over the hill we’d come from.
I crouched there in silence. I listened to the crying. Listened to the screams.
And in spite of the helicopters, in spite of the close proximity of the extraction point, in spite of that chance of hope—of a future—being so close, all I could do was stare at the body lying on the ground.
Suzy.
Gone.
Everyone, gone.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I watched Ian’s trucks disappear into the distance, my family and friends in tow, and for the first time in a long time I felt completely lost.
The clouds had formed again, covering the sun that had shone down so brightly a matter of minutes ago. There was a chill in the air, a cool breeze racing through the open landscape. In the back of my mind, I could hear the helicopters departing. I swore I could even hear the chatter of people as they prepared excitedly to depart.
And all I could think of, painful as it was, was that it should be me that was there with those people. It should be Sarah and our child. It should be Ellie. Ibrahim. Will. Kaileigh.
Suzy.
I looked down at Suzy as she lay in the dirt. Blood pooled out of the wound in her head. She was totally still.
Sadness took over me. She looked so alone. She hadn’t known a thing about her death, of that I was certain. But still… the very fact that she was gone at all—after doing nothing to provoke it—was devastating in itself.
I thought about Will. About, if I ever did get back to him, how he’d ever face up to what had happened to his mum. If he’d ever truly get over what he’d witnessed first-hand.
I knew from experience of childhood trauma that it wasn’t going to be easy for him.
But what could I do about it right now?
What could I do when I was here, all alone, so far away from everyone left in this world, everyone I cared about?
I staggered to Suzy’s side. I crouched beside her, putting my hand on her back. She was still warm. But she had that feel to her. That inexplicable feel that I could only describe as the feeling of a dead body. It sounded morbid, but it reminded me of when I’d lost a cat in a road accident. I’d lifted the cat up and strangely, even though Jasmine was still warm, she didn’t feel like a real cat anymore.
It felt like a model cat. Like a dummy. Something from a toy store.
Maybe it was the blood. Maybe it was the body’s natural way of defending us from seeing the true violence subjected to something or someone we cared about.
That warmth.
That was all I could think about.
That warmth…
I stepped back, then. I looked around for a shovel. For something—anything—I could use to get burying Suzy.
But there wasn’t a thing.
And as the inevitable reality of the situation dawned on me, I realised something very stark about all this.
Suzy was going to be just another body left to rot by the side of the road.
Another person I’d trusted.
Another person who’d trusted me.
Another person who I hadn’t been able to save.
My throat welled up when I remembered the last things she’d said to me. She’d told me she was proud of me. Proud of how far I’d come. Proud of how far I’d brought us.
And as reluctant as I’d been to accept what she was saying—to accept the positive things—I couldn’t help feeling proud of myself at that moment.
And now that had been taken all away.
Because Suzy was dead.
I looked away from Suzy and over towards the extraction point. I thought about going there. Warning them. Because whatever Ian had planned for them—whether it was going to be effective or not—I had absolutely no doubt that he was intending carrying something out that put the place at harm.
But then, what were they going to say? They didn’t know the level of the threats out there. What could they say?
I looked in the other direction, over to where Ian’s people had disappeared. I remembered what Ian had said. What he’d told me about staying away. I didn’t want to. It was the last thing I wanted to do. Knowing my wife and the rest of my people were in his company… especially after he’d just murdered Suzy. That was something I just couldn’t feel good about one bit.
I thought about pursuing him. But then I thought of the things that had happened the last few times I’d disobeyed him. The safe place we’d called home for so long got destroyed. Harvey got killed. Suzy got killed.
Who next?
What happened next?
I shuddered at the thought.
So as I looked at the extraction point on one side, at Ian’s disappearing vehicles on the other, I found myself caught between two rival forces, each pulling me in either direction.
Then I looked at Suzy’s body.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. Held back the tears.
Then I did the only thing I could ri
ght now.
I walked over to her.
Used all my strength to pick her up, carry her on my shoulder.
And despite my hunger, despite my fatigue, despite the sores wreaking havoc on my feet, I turned away from the extraction point, away from Ian’s trucks, and I walked into the distance, away from all of them, away from all of this…
Chapter Forty
Ian looked at the crate that he was going to keep his hostages inside and he ran over the plan again and again in his head, checking it for cracks, making sure it was just right.
The afternoon sun was warm and pleasant. All around him, he saw trees. Trees and people. His people.
And this crate…
He heard the engines of the jeeps revving up as they attempted to get the crate moving. It wasn’t going to be easy. The crates were usually the kind of size that a lorry dragged along.
But if it worked—if they could get this crate moving along with them—then he could see exactly what his plan was going to entail, exactly what he was going to do…
He heard the crying of the children, and it rang around in his ears again and again. It made a knot tighten in his chest; a knot that took him back to that fateful day when he was thrown into the children’s home. His mum, she used to be the one who cried. The one who drank too much then bawled her fucking eyes out about nothing, literally nothing.
And at the time, Ian hadn’t understood why she’d turned on him. Why she’d pressed the cigarette to the bottom of his chin and held it there, hard. He hadn’t understood why she’d do something to him when he’d never done anything to hurt her—as much as she told him it was his fault Dad left, his fault that no one else loved her…
But he understood now. Hearing the bawls of those children, he understood damned well.
And in his heart of hearts, he knew he should’ve just put them down for it, there and then. Shut the bastards up.
But they were going to be a part of a much bigger, much more effective plan…
He walked over to the crate and stood in the doorway. When he stood there, just inside it, he could smell piss in the air. Piss and fear.
He looked in the darkness at all these people—Sarah, Ellie, Will, Kaileigh, Ibrahim, and Hailey, too—and he smiled. Because they were going to be a big part of what happened next. They were going to be the ones who got him inside that extraction point. They were going to be the ones who delivered him the power, once and for all.
Because guns could take people a long way.
But people. Innocent people…
They could take people a whole lot further.
He smiled at these people as he looked inside. “Don’t look so damned glum,” he said. “You’re going to be okay. At least, that’s Plan A, anyway.”
He licked his lips then stepped out of the crate, back onto the ground.
He walked over to the first of the three trucks that were trying to move the crate, battling against the soft earth, and leaned inside the driver’s window.
Bob was there trying to get it going.
“Any progress?” Ian asked.
Bob shook his head, sweat dripping down his brow. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to—”
“We are,” Ian said, “because our future depends on it.”
Bob turned to him. He often looked like he was going to break composure—like he was going to struggle to hold his tongue. But he always held his tongue. He always managed it in the end. Always.
But this time, something different happened.
He opened his prick mouth.
“No, Ian,” he said. “It isn’t.”
He stopped the truck. Stepped out. Shaking, he squared right up to Ian, overpowering anger in his eyes.
“I’ve had it up to here,” he said, pointing to his neck. “The killing. The torment. And now this. The way you treat us, it’s like we’re your slaves. Like we’re supposed to frigging bow down to you and your every whim. But this… this is madness, Ian. It’s madness and I want out.”
He looked around at the rest of Ian’s people standing by.
“I want out. And whoever else wants out should come with me. Before it’s too late.”
Ian felt irritation creep up the back of his neck. It wasn’t so much the fact that Bob wanted to turn on him. It wasn’t even the fact that he was pissed with him. He could take that. He could accept his honesty, even. Brave of him. Showed courage. Showed guts.
But it was the fact that he was trying to rally other people against him that really, really bothered Ian.
So he took a sharp breath. Looked around at his people. “Anyone?” he said.
Nobody flinched.
Everyone just looked on, assessing the situation, waiting for something to happen.
Ian smiled. He looked back at Bob. “Just you then.”
Then he lifted his knife out of his pocket and rammed it into Bob’s chest.
“Don’t you ever undermine my authority,” he said. “Don’t you ever try to break what we have going on here. And don’t you dare splash your dirty blood on me.”
Bob gasped for life. His eyes widened. Blood oozed out of his chest, more and more.
Then he fell to his knees.
Ian looked around, wiping his knife with his hanky. Everyone was stunned to silence. The crying children kept on whining away. “Well?” he said. “Anyone?”
Nobody said a thing. Not anymore.
Ian nodded. “Should think so.”
He pushed Bob out of the way.
Then he climbed into the truck.
He looked at the truck alongside him, into the nervous eyes of Bert, who sat there in fear.
“We ready to do this or what?”
Bert nodded nervously.
“Okay,” Ian said, starting up the truck, getting ready to accelerate. “On three.”
He counted down from three. And when the moment came, he pressed down slowly on the gas, gently, gradually building his speed up. And the more he pushed, the more he thought of the world he was going to create for himself here. The power he was going to have over so many. And exactly what that meant to him.
The crate still wasn’t budging.
He closed his eyes. Took a few deep breaths. He felt his anger subsiding, his feelings coming under control.
“You’ve got this,” he said.
He thought about the last time he’d seen his mother. The last time she’d looked into his eyes. And the pure hate he felt coming from them.
He pushed harder.
Heard the kids crying.
Heard himself crying, way back years ago.
Felt himself curled in a ball back in care and—
It moved.
He opened his eyes. Almost lost his concentration, he was that surprised.
But there was no doubt about it.
The trucks were moving.
The crate was moving with them.
He looked at Bert in the truck beside, and he smiled.
All of them smiled.
He looked at the road ahead.
“This is it,” he said, smile on his face. “This is the final journey, boys. Strap up. Things are about to get explosive.”
Chapter Forty-One
I walked through the woods in the rain with no real direction, no real endgame, in sight.
I knew the afternoon would soon roll into night. And I knew that night would be hard to take—probably no sleep, even though I was exhausted. And the sleep I got would undoubtedly be laboured and painful.
Could I live like this?
What choice did I have, really?
I sat back against a tree and stared at the rain as it fell down, listened to it splashing around me.
That was when I saw it.
A sheep. A sheep, of all things.
And opposite it, there was a lamb.
The lamb was letting out frightened little baas. It was caught up in some wood. And its mother was right by its side, trying to get around it, trying with all it could to ge
t to its child, to its love.
My first instincts? Ashamedly, pangs of hunger. Allow it. I’d been surviving for a year in a world where food like this was hard to come by. I wasn’t exactly a monster.
But as I stood up and prepared to walk over to that lamb and the sheep, something else hit me.
This sheep, this lamb. I didn’t know where they’d come from. I didn’t know how far they’d travelled. I didn’t know what they’d been through.
But still the mother was fighting for its child.
And she’d keep on fighting, for as long as she possibly could.
Even if it meant her own death.
I walked slowly over towards the lamb.
It struggled some more when it saw me. The sheep backed away, let out louder baas like it was ordering me to stay away but was too afraid to do anything to stop me.
I reached down for the lamb, and I lifted the pieces of wood away from it. I pulled the twigs from its wool. And as I felt that wool coating, I thought how nice it would be to wear it…
But this lamb wasn’t getting worn.
It wasn’t getting eaten.
I let it free from the wood.
It trotted off over to its mum’s side like nothing had happened at all, then immediately butted its head for her milk.
The sheep stared at me, chewing on some grass now. And as it stared at me, the sun peeked down from above, the sky opening up, sending a warm light down below.
And at that moment, I knew what I had to do.
At that moment, I knew what lengths I had to go to.
I couldn’t give up on Sarah. I couldn’t give up on my child.
I couldn’t give up on anyone.
I had to fight for them. I had to trust that I could fight for them.
I had to trust myself. Just like Suzy had told me to. Just like Sarah had told me to. Just like so many people had told me to.
I looked back down.
The sheep and the lamb had gone.
I never did know whether I’d really seen them, or whether they were some kind of exhausted hallucination.
But I was thankful for them, regardless.