by Amy Cross
“You've gone very quiet,” Mark says eventually. “Do you want to talk?”
Ignoring him, I reach down and double-check that the hunting knife is still attached to my belt. Not only am I going to find Quinn one day, but this is the knife I'm going to use to cut her throat. Even if it's the last thing I ever do.
Elizabeth
“Please stop crying,” I whisper to Rachel as she continues to bawl in my arms. “Please, it's just a storm. You're perfectly safe.”
I'm sitting on the edge of a bed in one of the farmhouse's back rooms. The only light comes from a candle that I found under the sink and managed to get burning thanks to a matchbook next to the stove. Outside, darkness has fallen over the past few hours and the storm has finally hit, smashing into the house with terrifying force. I can hear wind howling past the window, and I can just about make out the trees swaying as they struggle to stay upright. Worse, though, is the sound of thunder overhead, and driving rain is hitting the windows with such force that I'm worried the glass might shatter.
“Come on,” I whisper to Rachel, “I know you're scared, but it's fine. It's your first storm, but trust me, there'll be more and you'll just have to get used to them. This kind of thing just happens sometimes. Nothing can hurt us, not while we're in here.”
As if to undermine my point, the roof creaks a little, and as I look up at the ceiling I can't help but wonder just how sturdy this farmhouse is. The previous owner clearly didn't bother to maintain it too well, and I'm terrified that at any moment a tree is going to come crashing down.
“It's okay,” I whisper, before looking back down at Rachel. I start singing a song, just some stupid nursery rhyme that my mother used to sing to me when I was a kid, but my voice is cracking and I'm not sure how much longer I can do this.
Ignoring my efforts, Rachel continues to scream. I swear to God, I have no idea where she gets the energy, but right now I kind of wish she'd go back to her earlier, staring self. Then again, wishing that probably just means that I'm a bad person.
“You want your real mother, don't you?” I ask. “You can tell I'm not her. I understand. Don't worry, I'm not offended. It's a natural response.”
Realizing that there's no way I'm ever going to be able to calm her down, I settle her on the bed before grabbing my crutches and hauling myself up. Trying to ignore Rachel's cries, I make my way slowly through to the kitchen and then to the door. Staring out through the glass panel, I'm shocked to see that the entire area around the house is being buffeted, and that some of the trees look as if they could come crashing down at any moment. Suddenly a flash of lightning brings a brief moment of light to the scene, followed half a second later by a terrifying, crackling rumble of thunder that sounds as if it's splitting the sky directly above us.
And there's still no sign of Toad.
When the rain started, I was convinced that he'd be back soon. I've known Toad long enough to be certain that he can handle himself, and he said that he'd be back before the storm became too bad. Even when the thunder and lightning started, I was sure he'd only be a few more minutes, but now it's been several hours and he hasn't come back. The thought of him being stuck out there in this weather is horrifying, but I can only hope that somehow he's managed to find shelter, in which case he'll be back in the morning, as soon as the worst of the storm has died down.
“He can look after himself,” I mutter, trying to maintain hope. “He's not an idiot. He knows the land.”
It's hard to remain optimistic, however, when the storm is so bad. Along with that, the last painkiller is already starting to wear off and I can feel my right leg – or rather, what's left of it – starting to throb. I have no idea how bad the pain is going to be now that I've got nothing to help take the edge off, but I'm certain it's going to be agony. There's more blood starting to leak through the bandage, and although the stain is red at the moment, I'm terrified that it'll become yellow at some point, which would mean that there's another infection.
“It's okay,” I whisper, as Rachel continues to cry. “It's all going to be okay.” The problem is, with Toad not around, I no longer believe those words.
Part Eight
Day 53
Thomas
The candle's flickering flame provides just enough light for me to see what I'm doing. To be honest, I have no experience with radios, but there's no way I can sleep and at least this is keeping my mind occupied. Mark told me that he'd been trying to get the damn thing working without any luck, and I offered to take a look. It's dumb, but at least it helps keep me calm. Otherwise, I'd be spending the whole night thinking about Quinn.
Sitting in one of the many tents that line the shore, I find that I'm almost able to empty my mind completely. A mass of wires has come bundling out the back of the radio's main unit, and I'm carefully untangling them one by one, hoping that eventually I'll be able to work out how to put them back into the right sockets. It's strange, but this kind of slow, methodical work is actually kind of helpful, and I seem to be doing okay. I know the satisfaction won't last, though. Deep down, I can still feel my anger, and I'm still determined to find Quinn one day and make her pay.
After a few hours, I hear a faint noise outside the tent. At first, I ignore it, but eventually I realize that there are hushed voices talking frantically just a few feet away. Eventually, curious to find out what's happening and worried that something might be wrong, I set the radio aside and climb out of the tent, only to find two girls crouched down nearby, talking quietly to one another. The first rays of sunlight are starting to show over the horizon, providing just enough light for me to be able to make out the tense, worried looks on the girls' faces, and they're in such fevered conversation, they don't even notice me at first.
Suddenly one of them looks over at me, and she immediately hits her friend's shoulder to shut her up. It's almost as if I've stumbled across some kind of secret operation.
“It's okay,” I whisper, hoping not to wake anyone else up. “Is something wrong?”
They both stare at me as if they're terrified.
“What is it?” I ask, making my way over to them.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” the first girl hisses to her friend. “We should have gone already! Why do you always say you want to leave and then come up with a reason to stay?”
“It's not the right time, Hannah,” the other girl replies. “If we go now, we won't have enough food or water for the journey! We need at least enough for a week, and we can't just grab what we want without raising suspicion!”
“Go where?” I ask, trying to work out what's happening. “What are you talking about?”
“We're getting out of here,” says the first girl, whose name seems to be Hannah. “I can't take it anymore. This place... It's not right. If I have to stay here another day, I'll lose my mind!”
I stare at her.
“You're new,” she continues. “You haven't seen it yet, but you will. Living here...” Her voice trails off, and it's clear that she's terrified. “There are things here that aren't right. You don't notice them at first, because he makes sure they're hidden from anyone who arrives, but eventually you become one of them and that's when you realize the truth, but by then it's too late!”
“It's never too late,” the other girl whispers. “We can handle one more day and get some more provisions before we leave. We have to be logical about this.”
“You've been saying that for a week!” Hannah hisses at her.
“Wait,” I say, crouching next to them. “What are you talking about? This place is perfect. I mean, maybe not perfect, but it's a good set-up. Trust me, I've been in a city just a few days ago, and it was hell. People were starving, there was disease, and rats... Being out here might seem crazy and hard, but it's so much better than anything else out there.”
“You don't know what you're talking about,” Hannah whispers. “The worst part is, everyone's in on it. The women who cook, the men who go out logging, they're all involved.
It's like all these people have decided to work together so they can...” She pauses, as if she's too scared to even get the words out. After a moment, she turns to the other girl. “If you want to stay, that's your choice, but I can't handle it anymore. I know it's dangerous to set out alone, but I'd rather die on the road than live another day here.”
“Wait,” I tell her. “When the sun's up, we can talk to Mark. Whatever's happening, you can tell him and I'm sure he'll help to sort it out.”
“Tell him?” Hannah stares at me wide-eyed for a moment. “He's part of it! He's the one who controls everything around here! Who do you think punishes people who speak out?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask. “I know I haven't been here for long, but I'd know if there was something being hidden. What exactly do you think is happening?”
“I don't think,” she replies. “I know. I've seen it with my own eyes. I've been there. I've seen them.”
“Me too,” the other girls says. “Once they know you're stuck here, they don't bother to hide it anymore. They get you to help, and then...” She pauses for a moment. “The worst part is the way the others just accept it. He breaks their spirits, and he twists their minds until they don't think there's anything wrong with that they're doing.”
“I won't be like that,” Hannah says firmly. “I refuse. I won't help them stay hidden.”
“You won't help what stay hidden?” I ask. “Will one of you tell me what the hell you're so scared of?”
Hannah opens her mouth to reply, but at that moment there's a sound nearby, followed by a few muffled voices.
“It's further along the shore,” the other girl says. “You know the trees on the point, a little way to the east? Never go past them.”
“People are starting to wake up,” Hannah whispers, her voice filled with panic. “You know what it's like. If we try to leave the main group during daylight, we'll be spotted, and then someone'll come after us. The only chance to get away is when it's dark. If we don't go now, we'll be stuck here for another day! I can't handle that. I'd rather die!”
“We need to be better prepared,” the other girl says. “We've talked about this. Just be a little more patient while we gather some more things. With a few more days, we can -”
“You always say that!” Hannah says, leaning around the corner of the tent to make sure that there's no-one too close. “If we do things your way, we'll always be sitting here, talking about leaving but never actually getting out of here, and you know what'll happen.” She gets to her feet and grabs a small bag from the ground. “I'm going. Please, come with me.”
The other girl pauses for a moment, clearly struggling to decide. “Just one more day,” she says eventually. “Please, we're not ready yet.”
Hannah shakes her head.
“Please, Hannah. It's easy for you, you don't have to think about anyone else. I've got a child to consider. I need provisions for both of us, and she's going to slow us down.”
“And you want to let her grow up here?” Hannah asks. “Do you really think she'll be safe?”
“I just need a few more days to get everything ready,” the other girl continues. “Katie's weak and I don't even know if she can handle the journey right now.”
“Good luck, then,” Hannah replies. “You know which way I'm headed. If you change your mind and you want to catch up... I hope you and Katie come, but I can't stay here another second. Please, try to understand. I'll try to come back for you, if I get a chance. Maybe I'll meet some people who can help. If that happens, I'll bring them back with me and we'll try to save everyone.” She pauses, with tears in her eyes, as if she's giving her friend one last chance to go with her, and then she turns and hurries off between the tents.
“Hannah!” the other girl hisses. “Wait!”
It's too late. Hannah's gone, and her friend sits in stunned silence.
“What the hell's going on here?” I ask, genuinely shocked by the idea that someone would be so keen to get away from this place.
“I can't believe she left without us,” she replies, looking lost and forlorn. “I wanted to go, but I wanted to do it properly, and I've got a child to consider. We've been saving rations, just a little bit each day so that no-one would notice. We were going to leave eventually, but we needed a little more time and we needed to maybe get a few more people to come with us.” She pauses. “I guess I can't blame her. She's probably right. With Katie to look after, there's no way I can leave this place. I just have to keep my head down and hope no-one notices me. I should have let Hannah take Katie, though. That would have been the best thing.”
“Where's she going?”
“Along the shore,” she continues. “We were planning to find somewhere else, somewhere new. Or maybe some other people, people who aren't like this. We hadn't got an exact plan worked out. All we knew was that we had to get away. At first, we were glad just to be alive and to have other people around us, but gradually things changed. We started to notice what was really happening. Not the whole thing, obviously, but little aspects of it here and there.” She pauses again. “I can't let Katie grow up here, but she can't travel, not yet. She's hurt, and she needs to rest.”
“How did things change?” I ask. “You keep talking about this place as if something bad's happening, but I've been here long enough to know that there's nothing hidden. I've spent a lot of time with Mark and I can tell he's a good leader. He just wants the best for all the people here, and I think he's really got some good plans. You just need to -”
“I have to get to work,” the girl says suddenly, getting to her feet. “Please, don't tell anyone about this. There'll be questions when they find out that Hannah left, but you can't tell them that I had anything to do with it. They'll punish me, and then... I still want to go off after her, but I need a little more time. Just one more day and then I'll follow. I swear.” With a look of abject terror in her eyes, she pauses for a moment, and then she turns and runs past the tent. Nearby, there are the sounds of people getting up and preparing to start work, and I'm expected soon at the shore so that Mark and I can go fishing.
I want to run after the girl, to ask her what the hell's happening, but I figure this isn't the right moment. Besides, I'm pretty sure that whatever they were talking about, it can't be too bad. People are jumpy and nervous, and as I found out with Quinn, not everyone has managed to stay sane in this brave new world. I guess Hannah and her friend are just two more people who can't see things clearly. This place isn't perfect, but it's a damn sight better than anything else I've found so far, and I can't believe that there are any dark secrets here. It's not like I'm some naive kid who doesn't understand the world.
Making my way back into my tent, I snuff out the candle and find that there's just enough light to keep working on the radio. I want to put Hannah's words out of my mind, but I can't help reliving that conversation over and over again, trying to understand what made her so scared. Whatever it was, she was wrong, she must have been. If there was something bad going on here, I'd know about it by now.
Elizabeth
I was right. The storm did bring down some trees, but fortunately none of them hit the farmhouse. In that respect, at least, we were lucky.
Opening the door, I step out into the yard and stare at the damage. The storm has passed now, leaving behind nothing more than light rain and a cold wind that rustles the remaining trees. Still, the damage inflicted during the night was catastrophic, and most of the yard has been reduced to a muddy bog. The place didn't exactly look great yesterday, but at least it seemed safe and dry; right now, it's as if the end of the world has arrived.
I take a few steps forward, but my crutches almost slip, and I'm forced to inch my way back toward the door. I can't risk falling out here, not with my bandages.
I stop for a moment.
Silence.
I open my mouth to call out, but I'm scared. If I call his name, and if he doesn't come, I'll know that something's seriously wrong. Still
, I have to do it. I have to know.
“Toad!” I shout.
Nothing.
“Toad!”
Again, nothing.
I don't know how far from the farmhouse he intended to go yesterday, and it's perfectly possible that he wouldn't be close enough to hear me. Although the morning light has only just arrived, the storm itself has been over for a couple of hours. I guess Toad must have just found somewhere to hide out, and then he had to wait until morning before starting the journey back here. In that case, it's crazy of me to expect him so soon. I have to trust that he's able to take care of himself, and that he'll be back as soon as possible.
Still, the wait is agony.
“Toad!” I shout one more time.
I wait.
No reply.
“Okay,” I mutter, trying to give myself a little more confidence, “take your time. I know you're out there somewhere, and I know you're okay. You'll just come back when you can. That's fine.”
I wait again, desperately hoping that I'll suddenly see him in the distance, hurrying through the forest. Finally, after a couple of minutes, I force myself to turn and head back into the cold, gloomy kitchen, where the skinned rabbits are still resting on the table. I make my way over to them, and for a moment all I can think about is the sight of Toad skinning them yesterday. Finally, realizing that he's going to be starving after spending the night outside, I decide I should start making some food.
Maneuvering my way around the kitchen isn't easy with the crutches, and I'm much slower than usual, but somehow I manage to find a few old pots and pans in one of the cupboards. Eventually I sit at the table and prop my crutches against the wall, before taking the first rabbit and placing it on a chopping board. Grabbing a knife, I start cutting the carcass, dividing it up just like Toad showed me a few weeks ago. If there's one thing I've learned since this crisis started, it's how to deal with a dead rabbit, and soon I've managed to get it divided up into various separate sections, all ready for the pot.