by Ryan Casey
Jack had left Villain back at his caravan to chill in the shade a little. He felt lost without him, but he knew it was for the best. The sun was particularly blazing today.
But the rest of the site’s residents were here. All of them gathered in an emergency meeting, all of them debating what had happened, all of them trying to wrap their heads around its significance, but mostly trying to figure out what the next step should be.
But it was all just noise.
All Jack could focus on was that discovery.
The heads on the spikes, right by the edge of the woods.
The guards, Guy and Krishna.
And Harry.
He was a good lad. The only thing he was guilty of was going out there in the night and trying to find Mrs Fuzzles.
He didn’t deserve what’d happened to him.
Nobody deserved that.
And Bella in particular… she’d been through enough upheaval already. Suffered enough loss already.
And he’d already seen evidence that she could be somewhat emotionally… erratic.
He hoped she was going to be okay.
She really liked Harry.
It was going to take her a long time to recover.
If she ever did.
Jack had learned a thing or two about loss over the years.
But right now, there was no order. Gregory was being bombarded with questions. Who had done this? Why had they done it? Where were they? Were they going to come back? And what had happened to the rifles Guy and Krishna carried? The only rifles their group had?
And all this time, Jack could only feel a deep sense that he’d been right about this threat all along. He’d warned others about this group out there. He’d told them they looked dangerous.
They hadn’t taken him seriously.
And now here they were.
But at the same time… he knew he hadn’t exactly put his foot down.
He could only remember Candice’s words.
If you really believe in something, you should fight for it.
“So say this group decides to just come back,” Candice said. “Say they decide to attack more of us. What’re we supposed to do then?”
Gregory shook his head, trying his best to maintain order. “This… this is a setback. But it’s—”
“Don’t say this was an inevitability, or anything like that,” Candice said. “Three of our people are dead. Dead without reason. We can’t just sit back. We… we have to do something. We have to act.”
She looked around at Jack. Waited for him to say something. Waited for him to speak up.
But then Gregory intervened again.
“It’s a tragedy. Please do not think I’m belittling that.” He had a calm way of speaking that put everyone’s nerves at ease, if only for a few seconds. “But we have to remember the world we’re living in. People… people are violent out there. People have their own structures. Their own ways of surviving. People have their own rules and their own livelihoods. What happened is awful. We can only get stronger from it. We can only learn from it. But… but it is a casualty of the world we live in. Not a reason to abandon everything great we’ve built here.”
Candice shook her head. A few others spoke out against him, but not as many now. Most seemed to be on side. His words seemed to have calmed them.
“We up security,” Gregory said. “We take special preventative measures. But whatever happens, this place will not fall. This home we’ve built, it will not fall. Because we won’t allow it to fall.”
A few people clapped at that. There was still some discontent, still some uncertainty. And Jack felt that trepidation. Because these were just words. All this talk about preventative measures, it was bullshit. They were just platitudes. They needed backing up with actions.
“And what if it does?” he said.
He was hardly planning to speak. It was more his thoughts, and he’d said them aloud, a little louder than he’d intended.
A few people turned to him.
Gregory turned to him.
“Something to say, Jack?”
Jack felt goosebumps cover his skin. The pressure of the spotlight, the pressure of having to make a decision, having to make a call, it weighed down on him.
“I just… I’m not sure we can keep on kidding ourselves that what we have here is some perfect idyll. It’s not. It’s… it’s flawed. And I’m not sure how much we actually gain from staying around here.”
Silence followed. People looked at Jack. Some of the people who Gregory had won over looked concerned again, like they weren’t sure anymore.
And Jack felt the opportunity to double down.
He felt the chance to really drill his point home.
But then he saw something.
Just over Gregory’s shoulder.
Right on the horizon.
“Jack?”
Jack walked past Gregory. He walked past the people.
He walked over towards the fields and he stopped.
Shivers crept up his spine.
There was a man standing in the middle of the field right at the edge of the caravan site, two people beside him.
The man was dressed all in white. He was smiling. Handsome guy. Bright green eyes. Bearded. Had an air of charisma about him.
Jack had no doubts about who this was.
Him.
He stood there as this man stared back at him, the two people beside him holding rifles—Guy and Krishna’s rifles—also dressed in those long white robes.
The man was holding something in his arms, too.
Smiling as he stroked her.
Mrs Fuzzles.
“Hello,” He said. “Who is the leader here? I believe we have something to talk about.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jack stared at the man standing opposite and he couldn’t deny the fear building inside.
The late morning air was still. There was no wind at all. There didn’t seem to be any sounds either—no birds, no talking, nothing.
Just silence, as those three people stood there, Mrs Fuzzles in the arms of the leader, rifles in the hands of the two either side of him.
Silence, as the rest of the Heathwaite’s group stood behind him, waiting for something to unfold.
“I asked a question,” the man said. His voice wasn’t sinister in any way. If anything, it was quite calm. Quite pleasant. Too pleasant. “Who is your leader?”
Jack wanted to step forward. He wanted to be the one to take some kind of responsibility here. He wanted to be the one who stood up to this man and told him he wasn’t going to take any more of his people away.
But in the end, it was Gregory who stepped forward.
And Jack wasn’t doing anything to stop him.
He walked past Jack. Walked over towards those three men, slowly. Every step was torture. Jack watched dried crops crumble underneath his footsteps, like even he had no regard for the project going on here anymore; like even a small part of him was doubting it.
But all Jack could do was watch him walk, step by step. Back straight. Head raised. That air of peace on his face; that composure that he always emitted.
But Jack had an awful feeling about this.
He had a horrible sense that there wasn’t a good ending here.
He wanted to step in. He wanted to tell Gregory to hold back. He was a peaceful man. Jack didn’t always agree with his blind optimism about this place, but his heart and his intentions were in the right place.
He wanted to step in.
But he couldn’t.
Because Gregory was leader.
He had to respect that.
He had to allow him to reach his own decisions about the right step for the group.
Gregory stopped, just feet away from this man. The man started at him. Scanned him, head to toe. There was a pause. An awkward pause for just a few seconds.
Then He moved Mrs Fuzzles into his other arm and held out a hand.
“The name’s Matthew
. Pleasure to meet you.”
He kept that hand held out. Kept it raised.
Jack wanted to go over there and slice it off.
But Gregory lifted a hand. Took Matthew’s. “Gregory,” he said.
“Gregory,” Matthew said, holding that grip. “I had an uncle called Gregory once upon a time. Very fond of him. You remind me of him, in a way. Got a similar presence about you.”
He kept that grip. Held that smile. Those bright green eyes looked so friendly and yet so… cold. Like there was something not quite there about this guy.
Finally, Matthew loosened his grip and released Gregory’s hand.
“Anyway,” Matthew said, his voice the only thing that cut through the silence. “As I said. We have a lot to discuss.”
“We do,” Gregory said, showing a glimmer of assertiveness that Jack was begging for. “Namely our people. The condition we found them in. Was that you?”
Matthew looked right into Gregory’s eyes. Scanned him quickly, head to toe, once again.
And then he took a deep breath and sighed. “What happened to your people was regretful. I am sorry. Truly. I would only ever act in such a way as a last resort.”
He sounded like he was going to continue talking, but he left it at that. A last resort? What was the last resort?
But Gregory didn’t ask.
“I understand how this world works,” Gregory said, like he was actually trying to appeal to this man’s better side. A man who had just murdered Guy, Krishna, and Harry, and stuck their heads on spikes right at the edge of their home. “I realise that different groups have different ways of living. They have different rules of survival. But we’re a collaborative group. We communicate with other groups. Trade with other groups. We’re willing to cross boundaries and build bridges instead of waging war.”
Matthew tilted his head, like he was really considering Gregory’s words. “I appreciate the understanding. Really, I do. It’s rare, you know? Most people just push back without even hearing the other side out. Most people resist the inevitable. But you… you seem like a reasonable man. You seem like someone who understands.”
But Gregory didn’t look like he understood. “Understands what?”
Matthew took a step closer towards him.
He reached up. Put a hand on his shoulder.
Leaned in towards him.
And then, as he spoke, he looked over Gregory’s shoulder at Jack and the rest of the group.
“Why we have to do what we have to do.”
Matthew smiled.
It happened quickly, then, and without drama.
Jack saw Gregory’s knees wobbling.
He saw him slumping to the ground.
Jack didn’t realise what was happening. Not at first.
Not until he saw Matthew pull the knife away from Gregory’s chest, and Gregory tumbled to his stomach.
Shouts emitted. Cries. Screams. Gasps.
All Jack could do was stand there and watch as Matthew stood there, knife in one hand, Mrs Fuzzles in the other.
He looked into Matthew’s eyes, right into them, and he took a step, fists clenched.
Then he noticed something else.
There was more movement.
There were noises behind.
And there was a smell of burning.
He looked around at the caravan site.
He saw smoke rising.
He saw movement between the caravans.
And then he heard shouting, and he knew what this was.
“They’re already here,” Jack said.
Candice frowned. “What—”
“Matthew’s people. They’re already here.”
He looked around and saw Matthew standing there, smile on his face.
Matthew nodded at him.
Then he turned around, lowering Mrs Fuzzles to the ground.
He started to walk away.
But the people beside him didn’t.
They lifted their rifles; rifles they’d taken from Guy and Krishna.
They pointed them towards Jack and the rest of his people as they walked over Gregory’s twitching body.
And then, in the heat of the summer sun, the people opened fire.
Chapter Fifteen
Bella stuffed her face into her pillow and tried to force the memory from her mind.
She shivered even though she was warm. She wrapped the bedding tighter around her body. She could hear things outside. Voices. Talking. Shouting. Arguing. Debating. She didn’t know what they were going on about. She couldn’t hear from this distance. She didn’t want to.
She just wanted to lie here and forget.
But the more she tried to forget, the more she saw him.
His blank eyes staring back at her.
The specks of blood on his blond hair.
That spike, pressed right through the middle of his neck.
And the flies.
So many flies.
She heaved when the memory hit her again. Her eyes were blurry with the tears. Every time she thought she’d got herself somewhat composed, the memory hit again, and she felt that gut-wrenching sense of panic and dread tighten its grip and cripple her.
She wanted to push the memory away, but she couldn’t.
She’d loved Harry.
And now he’d gone away.
Like so many else before, he’d gone away.
And now she was alone again.
She thought about the time they’d spent together. The first time she’d seen him when they’d found this place and not being sure about him; sensing he was a bit arrogant, aloof.
But then getting to know him. Realising he was more layered than she’d first given him credit for.
Realising she could trust him.
She hadn’t felt that way about someone before. Not truly.
Not since Wayne.
She thought of Wayne then, too. Another person she’d lost. She felt selfish for feeling bad for herself when really she was the one who was least connected to him out of his mum, dad, and girlfriend.
But she felt his death too.
Because he was someone she’d been able to open up to.
He was someone who’d understood her, for all her flaws and baggage.
And then he disappeared and she was left alone.
She thought further back, then, as she pushed her face further into that pillow, drowning out the rising voices outside. She thought to her childhood. She’d been at home. Her parents were going away for the weekend. She’d been dreading it so much. She hated it when her parents went away. The weekends always dragged on and went forever because they were her best friends. She didn’t really have many friends as a kid. She was always too erratic back then; she saw that now. Her mood swings were violent. She’d go from over the top, wild over-enthusiasm to withdrawn and rude with a click of a finger.
The warning signs should’ve been there right then, all that time ago.
But anyway. They’d gone away. Dad had crouched down and kissed her, his bushy moustache tickling her top lip.
“We’ll be back in no time, Bella,” he said. “Try not to have too much fun.”
And then her mum had come over to her, pinched her nose, which always made her giggle.
“You’ll have fun with your Auntie Nat,” she said. “Just like you always do.”
The truth was, Bella never had fun with her Auntie Nat. She was always distracted; she never spoke to her, and spent most of the time on the phone to her friends.
But there was no point in resisting. She knew resisting never worked.
So she just hugged her mum, smelled her fresh perfume, felt her soft hair against the side of her face.
“We won’t be long,” she said. “I know you hate it when we go away. But it’s just a weekend, love. And soon you’ll be old enough to go on weekends away with your friends too, hmm?”
Bella took a deep breath, sighed.
And then she nodded.
“Don’t be long,” s
he said.
Mum stepped away. Ruffled her hair. “We won’t.”
She walked over to that front door, Dad by her side.
Bella watched them walk down the drive. She watched them get into that black car.
She watched them drive away.
She never saw them again.
She felt herself shiver even more as she thought of the Sunday. Auntie Nat sitting down and telling her, quite bluntly, that her mum and dad weren’t coming home again.
And then the way she promised she was going to look after her, only to back out and leave Bella without family, without anyone, suddenly moving from a loving home to foster care, where she was bullied and tormented by the kids in the day, and by her own thoughts at night.
She’d slipped through the cracks. Fallen off the rails. It was inevitable that she’d eventually been diagnosed with bipolar disorder after a stint in an institution, prompted by an extreme manic episode where she threatened to end her life by jumping off a motorway bridge.
Since that day, her life had pretty much been a see-saw of in and out of institutions ever since.
Until the power went out and she met Wayne.
Her life had changed that day. It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Like she could finally be comfortable just being her messed up self.
And then she’d lost him and this whole suffocating spiral had started again.
Harry had alleviated it. He’d made her feel better than ever.
And now he was gone.
She wanted to call out. She wanted to scream.
But it was the other emotion that gripped her with the most fear.
That sense that she was never going to be happy again.
That this was where she was, and that there was no escaping it, because this was her life—her messed up, impossible life.
She lifted her head from her pillow. Looked into the mirror just above her bed. Saw her crying, snivelling face and hated what stared back at her.
She punched it. Cracked it. Felt her knuckles bleed on impact.
And then she looked at that fallen piece of glass, and she had a thought.
She could end it.
Finish it, right here.
End the misery. The pain. End it all.