The door creaks and shudders. The damage has warped its shape. It scrapes the frame as David forces it open, his muscles bulge under his shirt with the strain of the task. The door grinds to a halt, not fully open, but wide enough for us to see. And we see nothing.
"See. Told you," David jibes. He points to the ground. Blood wets the dirt on our doorstep. "Just an animal, like I said."
I kneel beside the dark pool of red, break its surface with my fingers.
"Is it safe out here?" I look behind me. Cait stands in the doorway.
"It's fine," I say. "There's nothing out here." The smug look David gives me is enough to make my blood boil, but I cannot challenge it now, now that I know I was wrong.
Cait slowly creeps towards me. Rose stands in her wake, clinging to Ryan. I guess holding onto a strong arm like his makes her feel less vulnerable out in the open.
"You all thought the aliens had come for you," David says snidely. "See. Nothing followed us home. There's nothing hunting us out here in the night. You've all let your imaginations run away with you."
Ryan's eyes snap to his father. I see a flare of anger in them. "But what about last-"
"There's nothing," David snaps, cutting his son's question short.
He storms towards the stairway, shoving past his son in the process. Ryan clutches his side, his vest reddens beneath his hand. A popped stitch, maybe. Something does not quite sit right with me. It almost seemed like the shove was intentional.
"You kids stay out here and discuss it if you want. I'm going to bed," David yells from the doorway, before disappearing down the staircase. Ryan follows. I assume there is something they need to discuss.
"I suppose we should start repairing this panel," Cait says, eyeing the door wearily. "Rose, you should get some sleep, too."
"Good idea," she says before scuttling off. "Night, Mum. Night, Daddy."
"Night, sweetheart," Cait says as she kneels beside me, studying the sticky red fluid coating my fingers.
"Night, Rosebud," I utter quietly. I doubt she heard me. I am too wrapped up in piecing things together. "Just an animal, then," I say. "Just another predator. Only thing is-"
"There are no more predators," Cait finishes. I nod. "What else could have caused this?"
"Nothing," I say. I rub my fingers to my thumb, smearing the substance between them. "David's right. Solars can't come out at night. Whatever this was, it wasn't them."
"I don't trust him," Cait admits. "He's hiding something."
I ignore the comment. "We need some sheet steel. I know a place in town. We can get Ryan some bandages while we're there. For Rose's hand, too."
"Shall we tell them we're leaving?" Cait asks.
"No," I say, rising. "We won't be long. They'll all be asleep soon. Probably won't even notice we're gone."
Cait nods. "I still don't like it. After tonight, I don't want Rose left alone with David in future."
"Why?" I ask. She does not reply. "He's a good man, Cait. He'll guard her with his life."
"Will he?" she says. "I'm not so sure."
I want to ask her what she means by it, but I know her too well. "What is it?" I ask. "What's happened?"
"That gun," she says.
"He can handle himself," I say before she has chance to say anything more. "I don't mind him keeping hold of it."
"It's not that," she says. I can see that something has affected her deeply. I wait silently, allowing her to finish. "The pistol. Polymer-framed, short recoil-operated, locked-breech semi-automatic. It's strange that he suddenly has such a weapon on his person."
"Why's that?" I ask.
She eyes me intensely, pulling something from her pocket. She holds it ahead of my gaze. A bullet. "This is exactly the kind of ammo it would fire."
"How did you get that?" I ask concernedly. I snatch it from her grasp, inspect the casing.
"I found it earlier." Her voice is low, menacing. The steely look she gives sends shivers rippling through me, as she says, "Inside Ryan's wound."
ROSE
Saturday, 21:14
I cannot sleep. I replay it over and over in my mind. I think it is the not knowing that is unsettling me. Was it really just an animal? I would like to think so. Trouble is, I know better than to hope. I have seen the monsters of the night. They know where we are, now. It is not safe here anymore.
My book is not gripping me tonight. I struggle to focus in the dim candlelight. The shadows keep catching my eye. Irregular shapes climb the walls, stalking towards the light; towards me.
Mum and Daddy have been gone a while. They did not say where they were going. They did not even say goodbye. Maybe that is why I am on edge. Again, I would like to think so. I know the reason. It is the same reason every time I am alone.
Another shadow stretches across the wall. I do not even bother looking this time. I just keep reading. I enjoy this one; a story of wizards and elves and fearsome beasts. Sometimes I dream I am a sorceress, fighting to save a dying kingdom. I suppose it is not much different from my current state of being. Except I am no sorceress, just a pathetic girl. And the kingdom is not dying. It died a long time ago. We are only ghosts, refusing to accept the truth that stares us in the face, day after day. Still, it is nice to dream.
The page darkens. The shadow is upon me. I hoped he would come to me tonight. I played the frightened damsel perfectly, cuddling into his hard bicep. I could tell by his racing heart, it was not the only thing that was hard.
I look up with a smile, the sweetest smile I can muster, but it falls away like sand in the waves. My stomach leaps to my throat. I feel my chest tighten. "What's wrong, Little Bud?" he says. "Expecting someone else?"
"No," I squeal. It is not an answer to his question, just a bleat of despair. I feel sick at the sight of him. His predatory smile makes my skin crawl. "Please, David. Just leave me alone."
"Alone? No, Little Bud. I can't do that." He sits down beside me, draws back my covers. I feel naked under his gaze, attired in a skimpy vest and a pair of knickers. "You see, your mummy and daddy want me to take real good care of you." He strokes my thigh. I can see his trousers bulging. "But I think you should take care of me first."
He grabs a fistful of my hair, pulls my head down whilst unbuttoning his trousers. He pulls it out and waves it in my face. "No teeth now, Little Bud," he says as he presses my face lower. I clench my mouth shut. Just the smell of it makes me want to vomit. "C'mon, Little Bud. Open wide."
I shake violently, thrashing, clawing at anything that feels soft or fleshy. It does not seem to trouble him. He continues to force me down. I feel the tip press against my lips. I do not open.
He yanks my head up. I am now face to face with him, but it is not his eyes I see first. It is his blade, tucked under my chin, that draws my attention. I feel its frosty bite against my throat. I dare not move a muscle.
"See, Little Bud. All you need is a little persuasion. I knew you'd come around." Tears line my cheeks. They flow swiftly, wetting my thighs as they fall from my chin. "Now, are you gonna be a good little girl and swallow every last drop?"
My lips quiver. I am trembling. I know I must do what he asks. I remember the last time I refused. I could not eat solids for a week.
I nod shallowly, sobbing, barely able to catch my breath. "Good," he says. His grip tightens on me. He pushes my face back down towards it. "Nice and wet now, girl. You know how I like it."
A door slams. I hear the patter of footsteps. Suddenly, I am free. His unbreakable grip is broken. He fumbles with his trousers, packing his pulsating member back where it belongs.
"For fuck's sake," he hisses. "How is he awake? That boy was out for the count when I left him."
There is a knock at my door. "Rose?" His voice is faint. His injury has taken its toll. "Are you in there?"
David glares at me, his knife raised, pointing towards my throat. I know what he means for me to do. I do not oblige.
"Come in," I yell.
I throw the cover ov
er me, concealing my half-naked body. David's face turns a deep cherry-red. The veins in his neck bulge through the skin as he grinds his teeth. Part of me enjoys it, seeing such frustration on his despicable face. The rest of me knows I'll regret this later.
The door creaks open. David forgot to secure the bracing bar, too wrapped up in getting his end away. It is funny how the small things come back to bite you.
"I just wanted to ... oh?" He pauses at the sight of his father. I pull the cover tight around me, tears still cascading down my cheeks. "Is everything okay?"
"It's fine, son," David replies. "Rose is just a little upset, that's all." No! He's not getting away with it. Not this time.
I loosen the cover, baring my chest. My vest's strap is torn, pulled down over my shoulder. My neck is red raw from his iron grip.
"Dad? What the hell's going on?" Ryan asks. David has no answer.
"He was just leaving," I whimper, laying on the theatrics. I force a few more tears for good measure.
David says nothing. He stands, hands working to conceal his swollen manhood. He does a poor job. I see Ryan's eyes narrow. He finally sees.
"Yeah," David grunts, like the prized pig that he is. "I'm going. Need to get some air, anyway."
"Where are you going, Dad?" A hint of suspicion loiters on his lips.
"Out," David snaps. I force a shudder at his outburst. More theatrics. "I won't be back till early morning."
Ryan's eyes follow him as he leaves. As the door slams shut behind him, I begin to weep.
"What happened?" Ryan asks. I do not answer. I pull the cover back around me. I cuddle into the caressing fibres as I allow myself to fall to the mattress. He is at my side in a heartbeat. I feel his hand through the duvet. He strokes my back. "Rose? What did he do?"
"Nothing," I say. I know he will push further.
"Bullshit," he says. He places a finger under my chin and pulls my gaze towards him. "Did he hurt you?"
I want to answer him. It is a simple question. But I cannot. My lips tremble as they fold onto one another. My eyes well up once more.
"What did he do?"
I cannot hold it in anymore. "Just this time, or every other time?" I ask.
His eyes bulge with disgust as he pieces it all together. The cuts and bruises that I tried to hide from him, the grievous dislike I have had for his father from the first time I was left alone with him; all of it swirling to one conclusion. The only conclusion.
"Rose, I ..." He is lost for words. What do you say to someone who you have just found out has been repeatedly molested by your father?
"Just leave me alone," I snuffle. I pull my chin free of his finger.
"No," he says. He sits me up, wraps his arms around me. "I'm never leaving you alone again."
I lean into him. "You're so warm," I utter.
"Just a bit feverish," he says, shrugging it off. "Your mum said it's nothing to worry about. Just a side effect from the bacteria in her balm."
"I like it," I say, snuggling deeper into his chest.
"Rose," he says, pushing me away. His eyes lock onto mine. They are menacing. A deep, silky brown that I could easily lose myself in. "Tell me what he did to you."
I snap my gaze away, look down to one side. His finger finds my chin again, pulls me back to course. I cannot resist him. I want to give him anything, everything he asks for. I open my mouth and the words flow like vomit. I tell him what he wants to know. It is not what he wants to hear.
The room falls silent when I am done. His face has fallen, mouth agape. A true look of defeat. Maybe I should not have gone into so much detail. No one wants those images swimming around in their head.
"I'm so sorry," he says after allowing the thought to digest. "If I had known ..."
"It's not your fault," I say. My words fall on deaf ears.
He pulls me close, fingers running through my hair. "I should have realised. I should have done something."
"It's not your fault," I repeat with a whisper in his ear. His body tightens, as does his grip. He crushes me to him, but does not hurt me. I love the way it feels. I never want him to let go.
"He'll never hurt you again," he says as he sinks his face into my neck. "I promise."
I feel a teardrop splash on my shoulder. Who is comforting who here?
"Will you stay with me?" I ask as I draw back. I throw him a bambi-eyed look. It is unfair, I know, but I do not want him to go.
"Sure," he says.
I beam a smile, cock my head coyly. "All night?"
"All night," he echoes as he draws me back in, lays me down beside him.
He strokes my hair, fingertips lightly massaging my scalp. He hums a lulling melody. I feel my eyes getting heavy. I feel safe, safer than I have felt in years. He begins to sing. His voice is angelic, soothing my soul as I hang on his every word.
His voice grows distant. I worry he is leaving me, but realise it is quite the opposite. I am the one who is leaving, drifting away on the words of his sweet song. Everything is fading to black. I allow myself to fall, knowing my prince will still be here, holding me, when I wake.
RYAN
Saturday, 23:58
She sleeps so peacefully, yet I cannot stop running my fingers through her hair. Just being close to her is intoxicating. I lean over, just to catch a fleeting glimpse of her beauty. That button nose, cheeks dotted with freckles. I could watch her all day. Sadly, I cannot. There is something else I must do. Midnight approaches. It is now or never.
I sliver away from her side. She shudders, so I wait. It is frustrating. I do not want to wake her, but I can only wait so long.
She settles quickly. I make a clean getaway. She is still sleeping soundly, purring like a kitten. I tiptoe over to the far corner of her room. It is not actually that far, but far enough. I take the scanner from my pocket, manipulate the dials. It crackles to life. I act quickly, lowering the volume as I glance sheepishly towards the sleeping angel. I let out a sigh, not realising that I had been holding my breath. She still slumbers, dead to the world.
I adjust the dial. White noise. Nothing but static. I keep trying, but to no avail. Maybe there is nothing out there after all; no one left to save us. Maybe we are all that is left. A chill runs through me. It is disturbing to think such thoughts. If there is nothing left, then why are we trying so hard to survive?
The white noise cuts out. I hear a mumble. In a split-second it is gone. I scale back, but nothing. Just more static. An audible fuzz that muffles all. This noise will drive me mad if I do not find something soon.
I search close to the frequency where I heard the sound change. I take it slow, a few kilohertz at a time. This is going to be a long night.
The static drops out. I hear it again. A soft series of hums beneath the piercing screech. I am glad that the volume is low. This would be enough to wake the whole bunker. I look at Rose. Her lips are moving, sounding out words. She is so cute. I would love to know what she dreams of.
The screech falls away. I hear words, inaudible mutters. I would get a better signal up top, but I dare not chance it. Besides, I promised a girl I would stay with her all night. I am not about to break my promise.
I move away from the wall. I assume the generator is limiting my reception. I am right. As I move, the words become clearer. It is a recorded message. A warning. It tells of everything we already know: do not go outside in daylight, keep to the darkness, technology lures them.
Rose stirs. I pause, watching. I hope she does not wake. She would not take kindly to me using the scanner. I hear something new. Something that piques my interest. I take another look at Rose. She is restless, close to waking. I do not care. This is too important.
I crank up the volume, listen intently. Finally, what I was waiting to hear. The location we have been seeking. The details of its whereabouts.
A castle, high up in the hills, where it is dark, secluded. A safe haven. No solar activity in years.
I know the place they are describing. We could
easily drive there in a day. Problem is, we do not have a day. If we are caught outside after sunrise, we are done.
I grab a pen and paper from Rose's desk, jot down the important stuff. I notice her drawings sprawled across the surface. Sketches of sunlight, of meadows; of a machine.
The scanner blares its piercing screech. I cut it off quickly. My gaze snaps to Rose. Her eyes spring open, scanning the room. I feel a stab in my heart when I see her face. She is scared. She is looking for danger. For him. I feel my knuckles crack as my fist balls tightly. Dad has always been a bastard. I never thought he would ever do something like this, though. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. She is so sweet, so lovely, and he violated her in such a way ... I shake the thought before it can take root. Dwelling on it cannot help her. All that matters is what I do now.
"What's going on?" she asks. "What was that noise?"
"Nothing," I say. I dash across the room, take her hand as I sit. "Just the wind." Good one, dickhead. We are ten metres below ground level.
Her eyes narrow, her lip curls at the corner. The look she gives me says bullshit. "How are you feeling?" I ask. Good recovery, changing the subject. She instantly forgets my idiotic remark.
"Better," she utters. She wipes the sleep from her eyes. "What time is it?"
"Just after midnight." I pull the covers back over her. "Go back to sleep."
"Are Mum and Da-"
"No," I say before she can finish, "not yet. They'll be back soon."
"Oh, okay," she mumbles softly. She is still half asleep. Her eyes close slowly. She grabs my arm, pulls, causing me to slump down beside her. "All night, right?"
"Cross my heart," I say.
She settles quickly. I resume my previous action, stroking her hair.
"Rose, what are those drawings?" I ask.
"Huh?" she says. Her mind is drifting away again.
"The drawings on your desk," I clarify. "Of the machine."
"What about them?" Her eyes flutter as she forces herself to stay awake.
"What is it?"
"I don't know," she says. Her words are softer. She breathes deeply. She will not be awake for long.
Solar: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller Page 8