IMPACT_A Post-Apocalyptic Tale_The Complete Series

by Matthew Eliot

  She was studying the possible routes that could offer a compromise between safety and speed, when two devastating things happened, each on either side of her field of vision.

  On the left, a mighty explosion reverberated through the air and ground, its shock wave slapping her hard enough to make her lose her balance.

  The castle collapsed. Rock was hurled into the air in all directions, destroying other homes and buildings, pouring down like hail upon the combatants. A thick blanket of smoke and dust enveloped the ancient structure, until it was barely visible. It was as though a merciful hand had hidden the proud castle from view, keeping the vision of its end concealed.

  Before the meaning of what she was witnessing could sink in, Cathy’s head snapped to the right, to the tents.

  Balls of flame were hurtling through the skies, perhaps launched by one of the warring sides. Cathy watched in terror as a handful of them landed right in the midst of the tents. An instant later, a blazing wall of fire erupted among them, spreading relentlessly, enveloping everything it came across.

  Adrian.

  As she surveyed the destruction, something inside her told her what her heart already knew—she wouldn’t survive this. Attempting to rescue Adrian was suicide. She didn’t even know if the boy was alive.

  Yes. But I could never live with myself if I didn’t try.

  As a nurse, she had spent her life shielding people from suffering and death. It was her calling.

  Before she even knew it, she was drawing a quick breath and sprinting towards that burning hell.

  All of a sudden, both past and future appeared to shimmer and vanish—the Bately she had known was gone forever; the voyage on the boat towards the shores of the Southern League nothing more than wishful thinking. No yesterdays, no tomorrows, only a heart-thumping, desperate, now.

  Cathy runs, treading through mud and the thunder of war. The rifle beats against her back at every flying step. Everything is slipping away, including her friends, somewhere behind her. They’ll head off to the boat, hopefully survive the sea trip. She doubts she and Adrian will be joining them. But it doesn’t matter, not now. She’ll die doing what she has always done, what always came best to her—trying to save people.

  I’m coming, Adrian. I’m coming to save you.

  Chapter 30

  Somewhere in America

  Somewhere in America, a middle-aged, balding man and a teenager in a hoodie stepped out of a secret military facility and stood watching the sprawling desert that lay before them.

  It was a warm day, despite the clouds, with no trace of rain. A pleasant breeze made their clothes flutter softly.

  Walscombe tilted his head backwards and breathed in, as if he were enjoying pure mountain air. He turned towards the teenager. The young man was looking around, a little nervously.

  “Ever been to America, Redpill? It’s beautiful, y’know?”

  The boy looked at him and smiled. “No, I haven’t. Not really…” He hesitated, then added, “Hey, call me Sean.”

  “Sean?” Walscombe nodded. “Yes, it sounds a lot better.” He checked the little plant that sat in a paper bag hanging off his rucksack, making sure it was standing upright. Satisfied with its position, he nodded and said, “Sean, Aubrey and Walscombe, off to explore America. Sounds like a good beginning, to me.”

  He noticed something in Sean’s expression. “What is it, kid? I’m trying to get inspired, here.”

  Sean shifted his weight from one foot to another. He nodded timidly towards the paper bag.

  “The plant… what did you say it’s called?”

  “Aubrey. You know, from that movie, The–”

  “The Little Shop of Horrors,” Sean finished for him. “Yeah…” He cleared his throat.

  “Come on kid, what is it?”

  “Well… I’m pretty sure it’s Audrey. With a d.”

  Walscombe considered this for a second. “You sure about that?”

  Sean sniffed. “Yeah. Pretty sure.”

  “You mean I’ve spent months chatting with a plant like a lunatic, and I also got its name wrong?”

  Sean shrugged.

  “Oh screw it,” Walscombe said, waving a hand in the air.

  They both laughed quietly. The same way old friends might do.

  After a brief silence, Sean turned to Walscombe. “Think we’ll be safe?”

  “Dunno, Sean. Not sure how many of those things will strike here in the US. Hell, I’m not sure how many will strike, period. Plus, there are all sorts of bad things out here.” He paused. “But that’s no reason to hide our asses like cowards and give up on exploring what remains of this great country, right?”

  “Right.”

  They took in the view, the vastness of America suddenly breathtaking.

  Walscombe patted Sean on the shoulder. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  They began walking, one small step after the other, heading nowhere other than straight ahead.

  “Yes,” Walscombe said. “It really is a beautiful country.”

  Epilogue

  The Beginning

  The sea was endless.

  Alice squinted, trying to make out exactly where it was that the water ended, and the sky began. It was difficult. They both had the same deep-grey colour of clouds when it’s about to rain. But it wasn’t raining at the moment, and she liked being out here. Besides, Mr. Lawrence had told her to keep an eye out for land. Most of all, for yellow flags. Those were the League’s flags, and if she spotted them, she was to immediately run below deck and tell everyone.

  “When you see those, we’ll be home,” he had told her. Mr. Lawrence was the owner of the boat. He knew so much about the sea, and she loved listening to him speak about his travels. Sometimes, if the water was calm, they’d gather on the deck, at night, and everyone would huddle around a lamp and listen to his stories. His voice made her forget everything else. It rocked up and down, along with the boat. It felt good. She thought that it was the same for the others, too, because everyone was silent, when he told his stories.

  But lately, she had noticed that every time Mr. Lawrence mentioned the flags, the other adults, and Mathew too, would look away. They shared glances and frowns, thinking that she didn’t notice, but she did. They had stopped believing him, she thought. That made her sad.

  “It’s not like he’s been there. It’s hearsay, that’s all,” someone would say below their breath.

  She leaned forward, bringing the old spyglass Mr. Lawrence had given her to one eye, desperately trying to spot land, one of those yellow flags. She was standing on the side that was called port, now—the one on the left of the boat, looking forward. The other side, right, was called starboard, in Mr. Lawrence’s sea language.

  How many days had they been on the boat, now? Twenty? Thirty? She couldn’t remember. It was difficult to tell, when sea and sky looked the same and people lost hope.

  * * *

  The first few days had been the worst, right after leaving England. The waves had been so tall that it felt like climbing mountains, every time one came along. Her tummy seemed to slip up towards her throat, then plunge down again when the wave had passed. Again and again, it went on for days.

  There had been a fight, the second or third night after they left the beach near Bately (the beach that looked a lot like the one she and Adrian had arrived at, when they first got to England, all that time ago). The adults raised their voices, some were shouting. Alice knew they were scared, and felt sorry for them.

  “We stick to the original plan,” Mr. Lawrence had said. “West along the coast, past Brittany. Then, the inland waterways through the Canal du Midi. With some luck, we’ll be in the Mediterranean within a few weeks.”

  Others didn’t agree. Mathew’s mum, Lucy, seemed to know a bit about sailing. She stared at Mr. Lawrence, her hair soaked in salt water. “The ocean waves will kill us long before we get to Brittany. We should cross the Channel, not head west, towards the Atlantic. Reach the
Seine and sail through central France.”

  Mr. Lawrence’s eyes were like fire. “Central France is a death sentence, every single person who’s been there says so.” Alice agreed. She had been there with Ady, when they crossed the country to get to England. She never wanted to go back there again.

  Mathew’s mum had held his gaze. “So are these waves.”

  Mr. Lawrence had sighed. Alice felt he didn’t like the fighting. “Listen lady,” he said, “the odds are against us, whichever way we go. Yes, the waves might kill us. The winds too. But this is our best chance.”

  Then, people had started shouting again. They only stopped when they saw the light.

  A shiver ran along Alice’s spine as she remembered it. It was night, then, but something in the distance had begun shining. Like a small sun on the horizon. Then another, and another.

  Everyone stopped talking. The little suns were popping up back where England was and where she knew France was, too. She counted five of them, sprouting up on either side of the boat.

  Except, they weren’t suns. They were more like flowers, gigantic shiny flowers with a long twisty stem. She’d seen them in films, of course, and in video games. Atomic bombs. It had felt like being in a film, at the time. Not quite real.

  She remembered how one of the men (Jean-Luc, his name was) had extended an arm, his trembling thumb pointing upward, as if he were giving a thumbs-up. He looked at the explosions with one eye closed, moving his thumb from one to another. He later taught her that if you looked towards one of the flowers—but he had called them mushrooms—and they were smaller than your thumb, you were okay. “Well, probably okay,” he had added.

  “There’s France for you,” Mr. Lawrence had said, pointing towards the flowers. There were tears shining in his eyes.

  No one had fought, after that. People had gathered quietly along the windows, staring at that strange scene. Alice remembered cuddling up to Ana. They both cried together. Alice wasn’t sure what she was crying about, there was so much that made her sad. Maybe it was a bit of everything.

  The bombs dropped for a couple of days. They were never larger than her thumb, so she tried not to worry. There was enough to worry about anyway, even without them. Every wave that struck them felt like it would be the last. Sometimes she stared into the angry, foaming waves, and imagined drowning down there. She pictured the perfect darkness beneath the water, her body being twisted and turned by the currents. It was a horrible thought, but for some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking it.

  At night, when the adults thought she was sleeping, she heard them talk about the bombs. Had they destroyed Italy and the Southern League, too? Was there any point in their trip? They talked until no one had any more words left. Then, all Alice could hear was a thick, worried silence.

  One day, they left the Ocean. They were in what looked like a river. The waters here were mostly calm. Everyone had felt relieved to leave the sea behind them, although Alice sensed that they feared the bombs more, now. Being inland, it was more dangerous. But no bombs came.

  She remembered seeing a battered sign that read Bordeaux. It was very cold, a freezing wind sweeping in from the ocean. “Next stop, Toulouse,” Mr. Lawrence had told them, with a smile.

  From time to time, they’d see people gathered on the two sides (banks) of the river. There was hardly anyone living in this part of the world, but someone was still there. They looked scared and desperate. Once, Mathew and his dad had invited a woman and a man aboard. The woman held a small baby wrapped in stained blankets. But they ran away, too scared to even answer them.

  Another time, after they sailed past a place called Toulouse and Mr. Lawrence pulled out some wine to celebrate, there were gunshots. Edward, Ana, Neeson and a few of the others had run up on deck, and fired back. With the echo of the gunfire in her ears, Alice had prayed for them to come back safe. She didn’t want to lose anyone else. When they did, she buried her face in her pillow and cried tears of relief.

  Then, they left the canal, and sailed into the Mediterranean. Once again, the boat was surrounded by water and waves. The waves here were smaller than they had been in the ocean. Mr. Lawrence was happy and excited (that was when he had told her to start looking out for the Southern League’s yellow flags, every time she was up on deck). The others, too, but not quite as much. They had had a lot of time to think, during their days on the boat. Alice tried not to think too much (it hurt, when she did). Their thoughts had made them sad, and they had given up on the League. She didn’t want to. She spent the nights in her little bunk dreaming about it. Maybe that was the place where they’d finally find safety. The one Father Paul hadn’t been able to give them. The same safety Adrian had always promised they’d find.

  A dull pain grew in her chest, at these thoughts. She took a deep breath of damp sea air to clear them away.

  Behind her, the door that led to the deck creaked open. It was Ana. They had grown close, during the trip. Alice had noticed how the Affliction had worsened in the last few days, and Ana was often tired. She spent a lot of time out here on the deck with her. They talked a little, but mostly looked out at the sea.

  Ana wrapped her arms around her.

  “Do you miss him?” she asked, laying a kiss on Alice’s head.

  Alice nodded. She didn’t want to talk about it.

  She felt Ana squeeze her tight for a second, then let go. “Any sign of the flags?”

  Alice peered down at the Mr. Lawrence’s spyglass. “Not yet. Still looking.”

  “Good,” said Ana, ruffling her hair. “Keep at it, young lass. I’m counting on you.”

  Another creak signalled that the door was opening again. It was almost lunchtime, and she knew they’d have to go and lend a hand below deck. But she wanted to stay out here and look at the sea for another while longer.

  “Guess who’s up?” came a voice.

  Alice spun around, a smile lighting her face.

  In front of the door, Cathy was helping Adrian out onto the deck. He was leaning on two walking sticks, placing one careful step after the other.

  “Ady!” Alice ran towards them, her arms wide. It was the first time he’d been well enough to leave his bunk and join her outside. Cathy had been very strict about it—he wasn’t to go out until she said so. Finally, that day had come.

  At the very last moment, Alice tried to slow down and almost ran into him, her feet slipping on the damp wooden boards of the deck. “Will it hurt him?” she asked Cathy, eyeing the bandaging wrapped around his waist.

  Cathy laughed and shook her head. “He should be fine. Just don’t squeeze too hard.”

  She did squeeze a little too hard, but she had no choice. It felt wonderful to be out here with him.

  She slipped her hand in his, taking one of the makeshift crutches from him. “Put one of your arms around my shoulders,” she told him. “I’ll help you.”

  Cathy stepped back, and let her walk Ady to the rail. She walked slowly, carefully, as Ady hopped along beside her. “Come and see the sea, Ady, it’s beautiful.”

  The others emerged onto the deck, too. Mathew, Edward, Lucy and Neeson. They stood there, watching them with smiles on their faces. Alice heard Ana whisper, “Let’s give them some time alone.”

  “The food is ready,” Cathy called out, as she followed the others below deck. “Don’t be too long.”

  “We won’t!” Alice replied. She saw that Cathy and Mr. Moore were holding hands, as they disappeared down the steps. It was nice to see them do that. Turning to Adrian, she swept a hand before her, towards the water. “What do you think, Ady? I know it’s not sunny or anything, but…”

  “I love it,” Ady said, his jaw hanging open.

  They stood there, hand in hand, eyes on the dancing waves. The wind was cold, but Alice enjoyed feeling the warmth of his skin through her clothes.

  “Can I use that?” asked Adrian, looking at the spyglass.

  “Hmm, let’s see,” she said, tapping her chin with her fingers a
nd doing her best to look thoughtful. “Only if I get half your orange juice at lunch!” she said with a crafty little smile.

  “Okay,” said Adrian, mirroring her smile. He didn’t seem to mind.

  Boys are silly, she thought, as she handed him the spyglass. She was about to turn and look at the horizon with him, but something stopped her. It was nice to stand so close, and look at his face. He looked a bit silly, one eye against the spyglass and the other all scrunched up. His lip was slightly curved on one side and she could see his white teeth behind it. She let her eyes wander across every curve and dimple of his face. She knew it so well.

  All at once, the thought of her daddy and her mummy struck her. She missed them. And Paul, too—he had tried to be their dad, in a way, but failed. It hurt to think about them all. But now, standing beside Adrian and secretly studying his face, there was something sweet about that pain, too. It felt like saying good-bye, somehow.

  I’m going to kiss him, one day, she thought. She knew it was true. It made her nervous to imagine it, but she couldn’t wait. It would be perfect.

  Then, something impossible happened. A speck of bright light was shining on Adrian’s cheek. She gently laid a finger on it, and felt it was warm. Without turning around, she knew a crack had opened between the clouds. The sun was shining on Adrian’s skin.

  He hadn’t noticed. His eyebrows had come together in a frown. He stopped breathing. Alice felt his heart beat fast inside his chest. Her friend slowly lowered the spyglass, squinted, then brought it to his eye again.

  When he whispered, Alice could hardly make out what he was saying.

  “Flags… yellow flags,” he said, mouthing the words as if they were from some unknown language. “Land… yellow flags…”

  And still she didn’t turn, when Adrian began laughing and calling out those words, louder and louder.

  There would be time to see them, she thought.