IMPACT_A Post-Apocalyptic Tale_The Complete Series

by Matthew Eliot

  I look like a ’wraith, Paul realised for the first time. He repressed a sad chuckle.

  Yet, the other man wasn’t convinced. “Are you a ’wraith?”

  Paul shook his head. “No. Not quite.”

  The man looked at him intently, the barrel of his weapon resting against his shoulder. “You’re ugly enough to be one of us, Paul,” he said. Paul shrugged, said nothing.

  After some consideration, the ’wraith stepped aside, gesturing to Paul to follow him. “All right, half-wraith. Let’s get you to your Pack, shall we? There are matters I need to discuss there.”

  Before moving, Paul spotted a group somewhere behind the man. Ten or so, on horses. It was hard to tell from this distance, but it looked like there was someone else, on foot. A ragged figure in torn clothes. Paul noticed long, thick chains tying him to one of the saddles. A prisoner.

  “Who are you?” Paul asked.

  The ’wraith squared his shoulders, pushed out his chest. “We’re scouts, Paul. A vanguard for Her Majesty the Wraith Queen’s army. Now let’s get going, my friend.”

  * * *

  Ana recognised the banners, although it took her a while to convince herself she was not dreaming.

  The symbol of the Greater Pack, impressed upon them: a hand, one of its fingers missing, the others with long, menacing nails rising upwards.

  Around her, the remaining ’wraiths were holding their breaths. Then came the hopeful whispering, chattering, the pointed fingers.

  “Is that them?” asked the boy, Adrian. He was standing by her side, appearing out of nowhere. It was hard to tell if he shared her same relief, from the tone of his voice.

  “I hope so, Adrian,” she said. “I really do.”

  Ten men and women, on horses. Paul was among them, leading the way. One of the ’wraiths walked close behind him, a hand wrapped around the grip of a rifle, the other tugging lazily at his horse’s reins. Ana admired his strange naval coat. It looked like something out of a fairytale. When they were close, he looked at the Pack, the huddled groups of shivering, hopeful ’wraiths, and Ana knew he wasn’t impressed. He nodded to himself nonetheless, and broke the silence with a loud, commanding voice, “’Wraiths of the Pack, my name is Mojito. My men and I have travelled far and fast to reach you,” he paused, all eyes on him. “It is with joy that I announce that the Wraith Queen herself is but two days from here, leading the largest army the world has seen since the impact. We are here to fight, to uphold the ’wraith cause, and to defend you.”

  Suddenly, Ana noticed, the people around her were clapping, crying, cheering. So was she.

  “Who is your leader?” Mojito asked, when the noise had died down.

  Sixfingers pushed her forward, gently but firmly. Ana hesitated. There had never been any formal election or decision taken, in this matter. She had just started leading the Pack. It had come naturally. “But–” she began.

  Sixfingers simply shook her head. “It’s you, Ana. You know it.”

  Others seemed to agree. Her name was called out, again and again. Mojito turned to her, as she moved an awkward step towards him. He extended a hand, and spoke again, with that strange formality she wasn’t used to, any more. “Alpha ’Wraith of this Pack,” he said. “May we join you, while awaiting our Queen’s arrival?”

  “Of course,” Ana muttered. Then, strengthened by the appearance of these people, by her new title of Alpha ’Wraith, she cleared her voice, and spoke with more determination. “Yes, of course. You are welcome to join us, till the arrival of the Queen. Then, we will fight alongside you.”

  More cheers, as Ana and Mojito first shook hands, then embraced the way old friends or comrades do, with grins and loud slaps on the back.

  Later, they gathered around the desk in Jake’s office (My office now, Ana reminded herself). Paul, Sixfingers, Mojito and herself.

  “Where is everyone?” Mojito asked. “From your messages, I thought we’d find quite a few more of you here.”

  “Yeah,” Ana said. “We’ve lost quite a few. Gave up hope, thought you’d never come.”

  Mojito considered this for an instant. “Well, good riddance, I say.” He smiled, and added, “It’s been a tough time for you lot, over here, hasn’t it?”

  Ana sighed. There was no way to even begin to explain how difficult things had been, how close she had come to give in and leave, too. “Getting better though,” she said, mirroring his smile.

  “I’m sure you understand, we had to work on the assumption that perhaps the soldiers in black had raided this place, and were communicating with us pretending to be you. You know, preparing a trap.” Mojito peered around at Paul, who sat rather rigidly beside him. “He okay? You trust him?” the ’wraith asked, tilting his head towards the former priest.

  Ana nodded. “I suppose so. Wants to get back into Bately. Hates the black uniforms as much as we do.”

  Mojito tapped his fingers on the desk. “All right. If you say so.” With his eyes still on Paul, he added, “But now I have some rather delicate issues I’d like to discuss with the Alpha ’Wraith, Paul. I’d appreciate it if you got lost, please.”

  Paul surveyed the noseless grin on Mojito’s face, then turned to Ana. “As you said, Ana, I’m here to help. I want to get Bately back as much, if not more, than anyone else here.”

  “I know.” Ana replied. “Just give us a minute, will you?” She could see the unease on Paul’s face. There had been no explicit allegiance between them, just a shared objective. Now, her ties to the Greater Pack seemed to worry him. In the end, Paul rose from his chair. “Okay,” he said simply. “But remember, I know Bately. I know the people there. Whatever your plan is, I can and will help.”

  “We know sir,” Mojito said, in what might have been a mocking tone. “Now, if you please…?”

  Paul held his gaze on Ana for an instant, then turned and left.

  Luke liked him, she reminded herself. Plus, the kids are with him. Whatever happens, I have to try and protect them.

  * * *

  Paul stepped out of the container with a sour taste in his mouth. He too had been awaiting the arrival of the ’wraith army, but now he wondered whether there could really be any uniting cause. If they ever freed Bately, would they allow him, the children, and everyone else to simply live there again? Go back to how things were before?

  “Hey,” a voice called out to him. He turned, and saw the prisoner the vanguard had been dragging along with them. The chain had now been fastened to a pole in the ground. “Got any water, mate?” he asked.

  “Yes, just a second,” Paul said, walking towards him. He unscrewed the top off his canteen, and brought it to the man’s cracked lips. He drank avidly, then, wiping his mouth on a sleeve, he looked at Paul with grateful, if somewhat suspicious, eyes. “Thank you.”

  Paul laid the canteen at the man’s feet. “Here, there’s still some inside it. I’ll bring more when you need it.” He paused, then asked, “Why are you in chains?”

  “I was travelling south. Came upon their camp one night. I was starving, mate. Tried to nick some food. Hadn’t realised they were ’wraiths. Not that that would have made any difference. I was mad with hunger. They caught me, two days ago now. Seem to think I’m a spy, or something. Told me they’d interrogate me, once we got… well, here, I suppose.”

  The prisoner looked around the camp, then at Paul. “You’re not doing well, but you’re not one of them, are you?”

  Half-wraith.

  “No. I’m not.”

  “Nice bunch you’ve decided to team up with,” the prisoner said, with a snigger.

  Paul sighed. “It’s a long story,” he said. “We’re trying to get back to our town. Get it back. Those men in black have taken it over.”

  “Don’t know anything about them,” he said. “Been keeping to myself.” Something in his tone suggested to Paul that he was telling the truth. But, if the ’wraiths believed he might be a spy for the Warden’s men, he doubted his tone would be enough to spare h
im an interrogation.

  “Why?” the man asked.

  “Why what?”

  “You said you want to get your town back. Why?”

  “Well, it’s were we belong. Where we want to be,” Paul said. There was nothing more to it, really.

  The prisoner chuckled. “Doubt you’ll belong there, once they settle in,” he added, nodding towards the ’wraiths.

  My fears exactly.

  The prisoner narrowed his eyes. “Why not go away?”

  “Away?” asked Paul. “Where could we go? The whole of England seems to be either uninhabitable, or too dangerous, or in the hands of these soldiers in black.” He looked at the prisoner, and for a second, he had the distinct impression that the man was about to say something, reveal something, but had decided against it. He just bobbed his head, looking down. “Yeah,” he said. “I suppose you’re right.”

  They chatted a bit longer, then Paul left, saying he’d make sure the prisoner would get food and water.

  What was he about to tell me? wondered Paul. There was something he wanted to confess, some secret he wanted me to be part of. I’m sure of it.

  But when Alice ran up to him, rosy cheeked and smiling, asking if he’d like to see the tricks they’d taught Laika the dog, his thoughts trailed off.

  Chapter 25

  R3dPill

  Two days went by, before the people of the Colony allowed them out of their prison.

  During that time, Sean and his cellmates hardly shared a word. Jeremy wished him and Checkmate goodnight, awoke them with a good morning, but little else. At times, he’d share cryptic conversations with the soldier, whose name still escaped Sean. Other than that, they generally sat in silence, under the watchful eye of one of Jacob’s people. Sean kept eyeing his backpack, piled up in a corner with a few of their other belongings, just out of reach, beyond the bars. His fingers itched for the keyboard, mind longing for the orderly, intriguing world of code and hacking.

  Every three hours or so, they were asked if they needed the toilet. Their captors would allow them to exit one at a time, and then escorted them. Every time the cell door creaked open for him to step through, Sean felt his muscles tense up, fearing that Jeremy would pounce, fight his way out of there. But this never happened. He just sat in a corner, doing yoga or whatever it was, the unbreakable faint smile hovering over his face. To his astonishment, Sean began to believe the old man’s aim had really been to find these ragged tribal people, join them somehow. If so, he still didn’t have the faintest idea why.

  The Colony was an abandoned mine, or perhaps one of those Cold War-era nuclear shelters he’d seen in films. Dark corridors slithering their way through the earth and rock. He’d caught a glimpse of the entrance – a heavy, circular opening set inside the mountain or cliff or hill that housed the Colony. It sat at a sharp angle, almost horizontal, at the end of a rising section of the corridor, like the entrance to some rodent’s lair. Appropriate, I suppose, Sean thought. A home for shivering rats, lead by Jacob.

  Once, the entrance was open as he was lead past it. Beyond it, he’d spotted three pick-up trucks. These people used them to go scavenging for food and tools in the nearby areas. They brought back animals, at times – rats, or weird looking foxes that Sean eventually realised were coyotes. But there must’ve been a couple of malls close by too, because they often returned with canned goods and junk food. Why they wouldn’t simply move into the malls was a mystery to him. Whatever the reason, he suspected Jacob had something to do with it.

  The leader of these cavemen had imposed a whole set of awkward rules his people had to adhere to. For instance, they were always required to wear gas masks, when outside the cave. But this made no sense, because the air from outside flew in freely, when they opened the entrance. Also, if they were trying to avoid the Affliction, as he imagined they were, he doubted the battered old masks they wore would really make any difference. Yet, Jacob was very clear about it, and they unquestioningly followed his orders.

  In the shared silence of their cell, Sean would end up staring at the walls. They were covered in incisions and drawings scratched into the surface. Not just in his cell, but all over the corridors, too. Stick figures, simple one-line sketches of strange images. It was almost exactly like looking at those prehistoric cave paintings, and there was an undeniable, if a little eerie, beauty to them. Lying on his side, he’d let his eyes wander among them, spotting scenes depicting angry gods hurling rocks from the skies, or ones in which people sat crossed-legged around someone who looked a lot like Jacob. There were scenes of hope and of despair, and others that simply made no sense to him. When Sean finally drifted off into sleep, those caveman drawings kept on swirling through his mind, until they were swallowed by the darkness, along with everything else.

  * * *

  “Need to go?” the woman asked. She was staring at them, the way the others did, too. Curiosity, a touch of fear. Jeremy’s tears had shaken them, as well as leaving Sean and Checkmate confused (it was impossible to tell what the man in the uniform thought). Jacob may not yet have been convinced, but his people were burning to know why their prisoners had set out to find the Colony.

  “No, thanks,” said Sean. As he spoke, a group of six or so cave-dwellers walked past their cell. Heading out on a scavenging hunt, most likely.

  The woman was about to leave, but Jeremy sprang up, unexpectedly.

  “You’re Janet, right?” he asked her gently. For a second, Sean wondered how the hell he knew her name, but then he remembered Jacob mentioning it, when they first met him.

  The woman flinched, as if the hippie were about to punch her. Then, she bit her lip, staring at him through the narrow slits of her eyelids. She nodded cautiously.

  Jeremy spoke slowly, warmly. His tone was reassuring. He knew how to be that way, thought Sean. “Janet, we have travelled very far, all the way from Europe, to find the Colony. To find your people.” He paused, perhaps expecting the woman to flee. They all seemed to be incapable of doing anything at all, if Jacob wasn’t there to tell them. But she stayed, curiosity overpowering her fear. “Yeah,” she said in a low voice. “I know… I saw the plane crash.”

  “Exactly!” Jeremy said, as if she’d just uttered the wisest words he’d ever heard. “Yes, we came on that plane. Across the Atlantic, all the way here. We have a message for you, Janet. A very important one.”

  Janet grew weary. She obviously wasn’t keen on being entrusted with anything important. As if it were beyond her to do so.

  “I-I don’t know if I–” she began, taking a step back.

  Jeremy leaned forward. “Wait, Janet. This message, as I’m sure you can understand, isn’t one I can share with you, just like that. Jacob needs to be present. I need him to hear it.”

  Sean could see relief wash over her face. She nodded emphatically. “Yes, yes, sure.”

  “So, my friend, if you would be so kind as to do me the favour of going to Jacob now, and telling him this, I’d be very grateful.”

  Janet nodded, the smile on her face revealing she was much more comfortable with such a task.

  This Jacob has sucked all willpower out of them, thought Sean with a shudder. If Jeremy was really here for this man, he wanted no part in it. He’d leave, somehow.

  “Tell him,” continued Jeremy, “that I fully appreciate the fact he can’t just let anyone turn up at the Colony and take the liberty to speak to him.” He chuckled, as if were the most ridiculous thought in the world. Janet giggled nervously, mirroring his amusement. “But I also do know he’s been thinking about us, right? Weighing us out. Otherwise, he would have already had us killed, am I right?” Again, Janet nodded. “So, if we could just address him, I’m sure he would be very happy with what we have to say.”

  “Make him happy, you say?” she asked.

  “Sure thing,” Jeremy said, with a slight American accent that didn’t really belong to him. A lot like Janet’s, come to think of it.

  Janet shifted her weight from
one foot to the other, now eager to head off and deliver the message to Jacob. But she just stood there, hesitating, and Sean understood that she was awaiting permission to leave. He was about to mention it somehow, when Jeremy said, “You go now, Janet. And thank you.”

  She grinned her gormless grin and shot off.

  They were alone, now. “Jeremy,” began Checkmate, taking advantage of this rare moment without the supervision of one of their captors. “What… what is it exactly we’re doing here?” Jeremy was still staring outside, towards the direction Janet had set off in. Checkmate continued: “I mean, what is it you want to say to–”

  “Have faith, my boy,” whispered Jeremy, interrupting him. “Have faith.”

  Sean sighed. Turning around, his eye landed on one of the sketched deities on the wall. It stared back at him, a deep frown weighing upon his brow.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, Janet was back. This time, she was accompanied by five others. Jeremy rose slowly, and Sean saw he was almost trembling with excitement.

  Damn, he really is here for Jacob.

  “Yes?” the old man asked with a quivering voice.

  The others exchanged glances. “He will see you now,” Janet said. Upon hearing this, Jeremy lowered his head humbly. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Janet looked them over. “We’ll open up now. No sudden movements. No funny business,” she instructed them.

  “Of course, of course,” Jeremy said obediently.

  Checkmate was staring at Sean from across the cell. What do we do?

  Sean shrugged. The hell do I know? Both teenagers stood, joining Jeremy by the bars. The soldier did the same.

  They were told to stand in a line, and exit one at a time, slowly. They obeyed, emerging in the narrow corridor, as the others stepped back to make room.

  Sean felt a prickle of uncertainty on his skin. The air was thick with tension, although it was hard for him to interpret it. He thought they were somehow going to break out of there, and one of them (the man in the uniform, likely) would lash out, attacking the others. But no one else seemed to be anticipating this scenario. Jeremy appeared to be entirely focussed on finally addressing Jacob and his people. And the stiffness of the captors escorting them seemed to have more to do with the unusual situation than with the fear their prisoners might attempt to flee. They hadn’t even bothered cuffing them.