In The End | Novella | Beginning of the End

by Stevens, GJ

  I ran in brief bursts, slowing only to jump the low fences to the next garden.

  On seeing a truck stationary ahead, I pulled up from a burst of speed. With its crane arm extended, soldiers in gas masks and camouflage guided hefty blocks of concrete as another stood high on the truck-bed, barking muffled instructions and sweeping his rifle across the view.

  Momentum carried me forward, clattering to the fence panel as I dropped to a crouch. When a call came from a soldier, I hoped his noise had masked the bang of my body against the wood.

  With heaving breath, all I could do was wait and listen to the orders I couldn’t quite make out because of their face coverings.

  As I peered around the garden, I knew this wasn’t the place to stop. Just before I’d seen the truck as I came around the curve, I caught my first sight of the edge of the wood. Now I knew the only course of action was to go back through a house and out to the front to continue my escape.

  Crouching closer to the ground, I turned to look to the back door and wished I could know by sight if it was locked, but the dark wooden frame and brass handle gave nothing away. I looked up to the windows. The top two were open, but in our close community it wasn’t unusual to leave them like that when people went to work. The crime rate was non-existent. At least, it had been.

  Shivering, I knew I had no choice but to take the risk. I couldn’t wait crouched behind the fence to freeze to death or be spotted and shot. I had to crawl close to the ground and hope the soldier’s work distracted them.

  Easing through my aching joints, I lay flat to the grass whilst trying to imagine myself as a snake I’d seen so many times on nature programmes. Mum would make me watch them in a vain wish it would add context to my studies. I hoped I was close enough to the ground that they would have to look directly into the garden to notice me.

  My breath steadied when I’d made it halfway with no call to bring weapons to bear and take me out.

  Whilst keeping low to the grass, I angled my head up and looked along the brickwork to make sure I headed on the right course. At the sight of a camouflaged figure moving back from one of the top windows, I froze.

  It wasn’t the time for indecision. If there was a soldier in the house, I would open the door to my death. If there wasn’t, then my neighbours would scream the house down, but at least I’d have a few moments to run through the front door and out of sight from the soldiers who would chase after me.

  Or I’d seen nothing, perhaps just a reflection from the soldiers working at the edge of the field, or a figment of my racing imagination.

  I pressed ahead. There was no right way. I knew I had to get anywhere other than lying flat to the grass in my pyjamas and a coat.

  The grass became concrete as I edged forward, scratching at my already grazed palms and knees. Grimacing through the pain, I headed along the path towards the back door and the dark-brown wood splitting the misted glass into quarters.

  I’d made my decision, the risk too much to jump another fence to try another door. If there was someone in the window and they’d seen me, then I was done for anyway, but the soldiers would be sure to see me if I stood and jumped into another garden.

  As I reached the door, I slowly raised myself to a crouch, listening out for any change in the soldier’s tone.

  I raised my hand up whilst trying to keep as low as I could. My fingertips touched at the cold, curling around the metal just as the soldier’s voice turned high-pitched.

  A muffled shout called out, followed by a barrage of gunfire and the clattering of falling metal as I pulled down at the handle.

  It didn’t move. I was toast.

  6

  Without conscious thought, instinct took over. My hand dropped to my side, my eyes screwing closed as I wrapped my hands to grip my ankles, clenching in some primal urge to make myself as small as possible.

  The shots kept coming, my body shaking with each round and I couldn’t help thinking it wouldn’t be much longer before they would hit.

  What would the impact be like? Would I feel pain straight away or would it take my body a few seconds to realise it was being ripped wide? Or perhaps I’d never know. Would I be grateful if a bullet hit me right in the brain and I went out like a light? At least it would be an end to the nightmare.

  When a touch came at my upper arm, I nearly didn’t react. I was so prepared for it all to end, I couldn’t help the surprise that my first thought had been right. The bullet felt as if someone had touched my arm. Not a searing pain but a sudden pressure. A pull towards the door.

  But that couldn’t be right.

  As I fell forward, past where the door should have been, I opened my eyes with my arms still wrapping me up. I looked up and saw a kid; a boy of maybe half my age, dressed in green and black pyjamas with a plastic dark helmet and the words MP in white across the front.

  Blinking to make sure I was seeing right, I turned back to the garden as I rose and took a step, half pulled by the kid. Each of the soldiers in the distance had their weapons raised, puffs of smoke coming with each loud noise, but they pointed to where I’d wanted to be and not in my direction.

  I fell to the kitchen floor as the kid let go and he rushed past me to push the door closed. He stood with his back to the glass, staring at me as I sprawled to the floor.

  “Jordan?” he asked, his eyes lighting up.

  “Tommy,” I said, nodding as I realised I must have been in number fifty-four; ten houses down from mine.

  He smiled with a wide grin.

  “Where are your parents?” I said, but before he could answer, I stood, grabbing his hand so I could draw him to the floor. “Keep down.”

  He looked back, the grin gone and for the first time I saw the uncertainty in his face as his body juddered every time another shot came. I put my hand to his cheek and looked him in the eyes whilst trying not to blink with each new burst of noise.

  “It’s just like fireworks,” I said.

  His lips raised a little again and I imagined him thinking of a black night, his face glowing from the huge bonfire and the multi-colours mirrored in his eyes as the rockets shot to the sky.

  The gunfire stopped.

  “Where are your parents?” I said again.

  He shook his head and I pulled my hand away when his high voice cracked as he spoke. “Dad’s at work and Mum went out to the shop but she didn’t come back. That was hours ago.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, the first words that came into my head even though everything I’d seen made me think the opposite.

  “Why are those soldiers putting up a fence around the village?” he said, and for a moment I thought about the question. Why was that the first question he asked and not why those soldiers were shooting at people?

  But then I realised what he’d said. I’d been right. That is what they were trying to do. “Can you see from upstairs?” I said.

  Tommy nodded, looking behind me.

  Crawling along the floor, I checked back to make sure he followed. Reaching the hallway, I rose to my feet, bounding up the stairs. At first I ran to the left and a room looking out on the back garden. I didn’t rush right up to the window; instead, I held my arms wide at my sides so Tommy wouldn’t either. Taking slow steps, I stood as far back as I could from the net curtains covering the glass, stopping when I had an unobstructed view.

  The soldiers were building a wall around the village to stop anyone getting out. They didn’t think there were survivors and weren’t giving anyone a chance to tell them otherwise. Soon there would be no getting out and they’d condemn everyone inside.

  But not me. They wouldn’t keep me trapped, but I had to do something before they finished encircling the village. I had to make a run for it.

  The fence had already lengthened towards the house so quickly in the past few minutes and I jumped at the sight of something moving to the right, calming when I saw it was another lorry dropping off more panels. Two masked soldiers stood on the back and scanned the view wit
h the muzzles of their rifles raised.

  I turned, beckoning for Tommy to follow, and as I did, I looked along the fence to the left. It stretched out as far as I could see. I would have to be quick to get to the woods before they blocked us in. If that happened, I knew we wouldn’t last much longer.

  Running out of the room, I noticed for the first time Tommy still stood in his camouflage pyjamas. “Get dressed. Keep away from the window. Make sure you grab some shoes,” I said.

  He looked at me, holding there for a second before peering down to my ragged slippers. “My dad’s shoes might fit you.”

  Pausing for a moment, I thought on his words, nodding when I realised what he’d said and how much I wanted to get something more substantial on my feet. I looked back, watching him frown.

  “What?” I said when he hadn’t voiced the question I could tell he was desperate to ask.

  “Shall I brush my teeth?”

  I couldn’t help but smile at his innocence and I nodded, watching him rush to the bathroom and something dawned on me. Shit. I would have to look after him.

  Perhaps it might be better to stay in the house and push the furniture in front of the doors, then just wait for them to find out there were survivors who weren’t crazed with the infection.

  I looked around the bedroom at the big furniture, thinking how I could push the wardrobe down the stairs so no one would stand a chance of moving it from the other side of the door. Tommy rushed back into the room with his toothbrush in his hand and his lips pouting.

  “There’s no water in the tap.”

  “Shit,” I said, watching as his brow relaxed and he smiled with his eyes wide. “Sorry. I shouldn’t swear.”

  Tommy shook his head, still smiling. With no water, we couldn’t stay in the house.

  Rushing across the hallway into what I guessed would have been his parents’ room, the double bed stripped of its dressing with the duvet and pillows bare, I approached the window and its view out of the opposite side of the house. Despite my caution, I let myself get nearer this time, waiting for my eyes to adjust through the net curtains.

  To the right, I saw my house. I saw Steve’s car and the Ford Focus still to its side. I had a clear view of where Steve had crouched on top of the guy and half expected a body to be in the road, but in its place was a dark patch as if someone had thrown a bucket of water to wash away the blood.

  Unless the darkness was the blood.

  I looked up toward the other road and the houses in the middle, sandwiched between those forming the ring around the village. I saw over most of them and apart from where the newsagent, the pub and the church blocked the view in the middle, it was easy to see the road cutting the village in two. It was easier still to see the fence almost complete on the far side.

  They were trying to keep us in. I had no doubt, but where were all the neighbours? Where were the rest of the village?

  Footsteps from behind made me turn and I saw Tommy closing the door of his room. I twisted back as movement in the corner of my eyes came from near my house. A figure walked past, but not on the pavement. They were right up to the brickwork. In the short front garden, they were walking strangely, like people did when they’d had way too much to drink.

  A shot rang out through the air and I flinched away from the window, forcing my eyes closed.

  When I opened them as the echo died, the figure lay on the grass with a new dark mark staining the brickwork of my house.

  More movement pulled my attention to the left and I watched a line of soldiers marching up the street in a loose formation, each in gas masks, moving to stand by a front door. With a heavy thud and a shout, I watched them throw something inside and jerk back flat to the walls.

  A loud explosion sent me for ducking for cover.

  7

  “What was that?” Tommy said in his high voice, having changed into jeans and a hoodie. I shook my head, leaning back to the window and looking to where the soldiers had been only moments before, but all I saw was the last of them disappearing through the door they’d just thrown a grenade into.

  I watched, only able to pull away when bursts of gunshots started. They were clearing the houses.

  Stumbling from the window, I turned to Tommy.

  “We’ve got to go.”

  Ushering him down the stairs, about to put my hand on the door, I looked at him.

  “Where are your dad’s shoes?” I asked, watching as he pointed along the short hallway and the cupboard under the stairs.

  Pulling the cupboard open, I hurried the worn slippers from my feet, but the two pairs I tried were far too small for my size tens. When I felt another explosion through the wall, I gave up, pushing my slippers back on.

  Before I opened the door, I grabbed Tommy’s wrist, then peered left to glimpse soldiers rushing into the next house with smoke still pouring from the front door. It was a scene I would have expected to see on the TV news of some conflict in a third-world country.

  It was worse than I thought. They were going from house to house to make sure there was no one left alive. They weren’t even checking if people were acting weird. I’d heard no calls to check if the people in the house were afflicted. The soldiers were killing people on sight.

  What had the world come to? Was whatever had affected my mum, Steve and everyone else I’d seen in the village so far so dangerous? Was there no way they could get better? Was there no hope for me, or Tommy?

  It was like a video game; like the one I’d been playing that morning, but at least then I’d had a gun. Perhaps if I could get one, it would even up our odds.

  I pictured a soldier lying dead, attacked by someone from the village and bleeding out by the side of the road. Could I take the rifle from his body?

  Dismissing the thought with a shake of my head and about to turn to Tommy, I stopped, seeing movement from over the road. A door opened two houses along and an Asian man in boxer shorts with a woman in a dressing gown behind him stepped over the threshold. Both looked around in search of what was going on.

  I recognised their faces but not their names. I’d seen them before, like everyone else in Cowithick.

  The muffled commands from the soldiers pulled me away from the question of their name, the calls growing more frantic. I imagined them shouting for them to stay where they were and get to their knees, but they wouldn’t do as they were told.

  As if in a daze, they looked on as the soldiers ran toward them with their rifles raised.

  Still stood in the doorway, I wanted to call out. I wanted to tell them to turn and run, bar the door and rush out of the back like I needed to do. But I couldn’t get the words out.

  Seeing the soldiers hadn’t looked my way, I stepped back into the house, closing the door but leaving just a crack so I could peer out. I watched the inevitable gun shot, the first of many cutting the man down, sending him stumbling back with a look of utter shock as he clutched his chest.

  The woman screamed, dropping to her knees, then turned back to their doorway where a kid stood with his mouth wide.

  Mo. I knew his name. He was only a year younger than me.

  His mum tried to stand, but a plume of blood sprayed backward before she could rise. I turned away, gripping Tommy’s head as the volley of explosions came, bucking my body with each echo between the houses.

  As the gunfire halted, I released Tommy, keeping my body between him and the terrible sight I couldn’t bring myself to look at. I looked past the first sign of his tears and gripped him by the upper arms.

  “We have to run,” I said.

  By his slow nod, he understood, but from his hardened expression I couldn’t tell if he’d seen the result of the shots fired. I couldn’t tell if he realised the soldiers weren’t there to reunite him with his mother.

  He didn’t give any other reply, and I gripped hard, releasing my hold just a little when he tensed as if in pain.

  “Do you understand that we have to get away?”

  He nodded. />
  “I know somewhere I think will be safe. Somewhere where we can look for your dad.” I nodded, hoping to prompt the same again in return.

  His reply was much shallower, but his eyes lit up when I spoke again.

  “So when we hear that loud noise again, we have to run. Hold my hand and go as fast as you can. Do you understand?”

  He nodded and I forced a smile as he mirrored my expression. The only difference was that mine fell as soon as he couldn’t see. I leaned to the wall to wait whilst holding my hand out toward him at my back.

  His hand felt so small in mine. I was sixteen and closer to being a fully-grown adult, whereas he had such a long way to go. So much of his life to live.

  They hadn’t even bothered to move the bodies. Edging forward, I saw the soldiers had moved back to the house they’d been at before the man had stepped out. I ducked back when I thought I saw a soldier glance my way, holding my breath until I heard the call and I knew what would come next.

  “Get ready,” I said, tensing.

  Boom.

  The pressure wave rattled the windows and I ran, hunched over, out of the door with my arm trailing behind me as I dragged Tommy from the house. He kept up and I didn’t glance left, instead aiming straight for the front garden gate, still wide open.

  We were out so quickly, slowing only enough for the turn right, then speeding again as I gripped Tommy tight. Together we rushed to get around the path’s curve and put us out of sight of the soldiers before they left the house they’d rushed into just after the explosion.

  I soon saw my house and I kept running, but slowing just a little to put myself between Tommy and the house in hope he wouldn’t see the corpse crumpled in our front garden.

  I looked to the cars still embedded in each other, the mark where my brother had fought the stranger. Strange, because I hadn’t seen him before Steve had attacked.

  The dark mark hadn’t been water and I was glad when it went out of sight as we came level with the house.