Dead Days [Season 11]

by Casey, Ryan

  He’d locked it.

  He’d locked it because he didn’t trust her to stay down there.

  He didn’t trust her not to go wandering.

  He knew it was a gamble. Because if she tried to get out of that trapdoor and found it locked, she’d no doubt kick up a fuss.

  But that was a risk he had to take. A balance he had to strike.

  He just wished Rhubi were still here to help.

  His stomach sank when he thought of Rhubi.

  When he thought of the day he’d woken up to find her dead in her bed.

  There had been no warning signs. No evidence she was unhappy. Well, that was a lie. Nobody was fucking happy in this world. Happiness was an impossibility.

  But Rhubi hadn’t seemed any more down than he had. She hadn’t seemed depressed in any way.

  She was getting by. Just like Riley.

  For Kesha.

  But then he’d gone into her room and found her with a bullet through the head, a pistol in her hand, and a note on top of the quilt.

  He’d gone over there. Lifted the note. Not wanting to read it. Not wanting to believe that Rhubi had done this to herself. Wanting to blame somebody else. To seek revenge. Because this wasn’t the Rhubi he thought he knew. The fighter. The woman who had been through hell.

  The woman who had saved his life.

  It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.

  But then he’d read the note, and he could be in no doubt.

  This pointlessness is suffocating, it read. I’m sorry I can’t stick around for the end of the ride.

  And that was it. As simple as that. As basic and as to the point as that.

  Written the note.

  Put a bullet through her head.

  Ended it.

  It wasn’t long after that Riley decided to migrate to the basement permanently. Kesha wasn’t happy at first. She longed for sunlight. Craved the sun. She became… difficult. A problem child.

  But then Riley could hardly judge. The trauma she’d been through, at such a young age. Nobody should have to live with that. No child should have to grow up with that.

  She was stunted, developmentally. He had done what he could to educate her. But there was only so much educating could be done when there wasn’t any visits to the world outside. There were only so many things he could teach her when she was essentially a prisoner.

  And for what?

  So that she survived.

  So that she stopped the virus developing.

  So that she killed it in its tracks.

  But that was the problem.

  The virus wasn’t dying. The frustration was growing, sure. The desperation was building.

  But over a year had passed now, and the creatures weren’t slowing down.

  If anything, they were ramping up the frequency of their attacks.

  Their anger was building.

  Riley knew what he’d been told about the hunger. About how much they needed Kesha. About how eventually, they would fall.

  And he’d seen it for himself. In small cases, at least. Isolated cases.

  But they were still visiting. They were still strong. Still intelligent. He’d seen that plenty of times during his run-ins with them.

  So Rhubi had a point.

  What was all of this for?

  And Kesha.

  The life she was living.

  Was it the kind of life even worth living?

  He shook his head when he heard movement up ahead.

  He looked around. Excitement building. Hope growing. Because it sounded like her. Sounded like the one he’d come here to visit. The one he’d come out here to see if she was okay.

  He saw her dark fur in the snow.

  And then he saw something else.

  Pet was still. Totally still.

  Her neck had been snapped.

  Her innards were spilled out over the snow.

  Someone had fed on her.

  Riley looked at this black Labrador, and his heart sank. Tears built. Because he’d told himself he wouldn’t ever get attached again. He’d told himself he’d never make a bond again.

  But nature had done its thing.

  Nature had run its normal course.

  Human instinct had made him seek someone out.

  And now they were gone too.

  He looked at Angel as she lay there in the snow.

  A tear rolled down his cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice strained, his throat cracked from underuse.

  And then he turned around, and he walked back towards the house.

  He couldn’t bring himself to take Angel back as food.

  Chapter Ten

  Six months later…

  They were here again.

  Riley sipped back the whisky and looked at Kesha. He didn’t even have to put a finger over his lips anymore. She knew when to be quiet. She knew when to get into her box. She knew the drill far too well by now.

  And in all truth, their visits were more frequent than their absences, now.

  They were just a part of the scenery.

  A torturous, predictable part of the scenery.

  He swallowed the whisky and felt that familiar guilt in his body as the footsteps raced through the cabin. As the shouts got louder. As the screams got more intense. As their destructiveness intensified.

  He wanted to believe every time they visited that this was it. This was them at their end. This was them at their most desperate. That there were fewer of them than usual. Or that the reason they sounded so malicious and aggressive was because they were reaching the end of the road.

  But he’d been telling himself that for months, now.

  Months down here.

  Months surviving on what little food they had left.

  What little water they had left.

  Because there was no time to go out and search for food anymore.

  There was no time to go out hunting. Or even to go out and make any companions. Any friends—

  No. No more friends. No more friends because friends meant loss, and that wasn’t something he could take. Not again. Not anymore.

  He listened to the footsteps racing through the house above, and he sat against Kesha’s box, shotgun still in his bony hand.

  He thought about killing Kesha more and more these days. It wasn’t a monstrous thought. It was rational. Rhubi had suggested it two years ago.

  But then what good would that be, really? They were living a death sentence down here anyway. And they’d survived it long enough that giving up now would be copping out.

  He thought of Chloë in his darkest moments. Thought of what she’d told him. What she’d made him promise, all that time ago.

  “Keep Kesha safe,” he muttered. “Keep Kesha safe. Keep Kesha safe. Keep Kesha safe.”

  He listened to the cries. To the shouts. The screams. Sometimes, they were just incomprehensible slurs. Others, they were more painful. More traumatising. The things they said were like the colours he’d seen when he stepped into District 63. He didn’t know why they were so uncomfortable. Why they were so unsettling. Especially when he couldn’t pinpoint what they were saying exactly.

  But he could feel them tapping in to something inside him, something within.

  Something that made him want to get out of here and throw himself to the wolves.

  “Keep Kesha safe,” he said. “Keep Kesha safe.”

  He listened as the creatures made their way upstairs like they always did. Then he listened to them punching and smacking the walls and destroying more and more of the house above.

  He listened to them, and he thought of what it must look like up there now. Of how much it must’ve changed. Of how sure he was that he wouldn’t even recognise it anymore.

  He listened to them finish their destruction, and then heard them disappear.

  He started to count, then. Thirty-eight minutes. That’s all he had. Thirty eight minutes of peace.

  He sipped more whisky. Felt its warmt
h burning his throat. Felt himself drifting as he helped Kesha out of the box. Her hair long. Her skin so pale it illuminated even in this darkness.

  “They gone?” she asked.

  Like she always did.

  Riley nodded. “They’re gone.”

  “Forever?”

  His stomach sank. That same question, every time. But it never got old. Ever.

  “Not forever,” Riley said. “Not forever. Now go and grab some water.”

  He watched Kesha walk across the room, and he felt so sad. So sad because she just accepted it. She just took it. She just gave in to her fate.

  But this was no life.

  He started to realise why Rhubi had given up, now. Started to understand.

  It was pointless.

  All of it was pointless.

  Because saving Kesha wasn’t saving Kesha.

  It was killing her.

  She’d have no life.

  Not after this.

  He leaned back against the wall and sipped whisky. Then gulped. Then drank more and more as Kesha pleased herself. He didn’t like doing this around Kesha. Didn’t like getting too drunk. But he wasn’t thinking straight anymore. He’d cracked. This cycle. This life lived in thirty-eight minute chunks.

  A life that would soon be thirty minute chunks.

  Then fifteen.

  Then five.

  Then forever.

  He drank some more, and he knew damn well he couldn’t do this anymore.

  He couldn’t keep on going.

  He took a deep breath, the taste of sick filling his mouth, and he drifted to better days. Days that felt like they’d happened but that hadn’t, not really.

  Days of sunshine.

  Of laughter.

  Days that felt like imagination, not memory.

  He felt himself drifting deeper and deeper into this warmth.

  And that’s when he felt it.

  Kesha.

  Kesha’s hands against his chest.

  Against his face.

  “Not here!” she said. “Not here!”

  Riley took a sharp breath in. Looked around. The whisky bottle had fallen from his hand. His head was spinning, but not quite as bad. He must’ve passed out. Must’ve slipped into unconsciousness.

  He pushed Kesha back a little. “What—what time is it?”

  “Not here!” Kesha said.

  “Stop saying that. You’re supposed to be counting. You’re supposed to be counting, just like me.”

  “Not here. Not here!”

  “Kesh…”

  He stopped, then.

  He stopped because he realised something.

  He realised, through his drunken haze, what Kesha was saying.

  “Not here,” he said.

  He looked up.

  Looked up and didn’t see any simmering light.

  He didn’t hear any noises.

  Only silence.

  “Not here,” he said. “They’re… they’re not here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Riley waited a whole three days before stepping outside the basement.

  He wanted to be sure. Wanted to be absolutely certain. He counted those thirty-eight minutes, those two-thousand two hundred and eighty seconds, again and again. Sobering up. Keeping in control as well as he could.

  But he didn’t want to believe it. Because he didn’t want to allow any hope to grow. He didn’t want to allow himself to believe in anything ever again. Because he’d believed too many times. He’d lost too many times.

  He couldn’t suffer another loss.

  But three days later he was starting to wonder whether Kesha could really be right.

  He reached the top of the basement stairs. Waited there for a few minutes. Listened outside for the sounds. He could hear wind brushing against the trees in the distance. He could hear birdsong.

  And as much as he tried to scrutinise every single noise he heard—as much as he tried to tell himself that this wasn’t right, that it was a trick; that it was some kind of plot by the creatures… he didn’t hear any evidence of that.

  He didn’t hear anything at all.

  So he had to step outside.

  He had to look.

  He felt cold fingers touch his hand and flinched.

  He looked around.

  Kesha was standing there. Pale-faced. Long-haired. Wide-eyed.

  “Me come too?” she said, in her broken English.

  Riley shook his head like he had done so many times already. “Me first,” he said.

  “But gone,” she said, stretching out her hands. “Gone.”

  Riley took a deep breath. “I hope so,” he said. “I hope so.”

  He leaned down. Helped Kesha back down the stairs.

  “You’re going to have to go in your box,” he said.

  Kesha shook her head. “No. No box. No more box.”

  “Kesha,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s for your own safety—”

  “But gone!”

  Riley heard Kesha’s shout, and he could feel the pain in her voice. Hear her frustration. He’d been naive. Assuming she didn’t feel this pain in the same way as him because she was numb to it in some way. She’d been brought up in this world. How could she possibly suffer as much as he did?

  But then he saw how wrong he was. She’d been locked down here for years. She’d seen his descent into alcoholism and depression. She’d seen him slip to the depths that he’d only felt once in his life before. Once, to this degree.

  And that time he’d tried to kill himself.

  He crouched, then. Looked at Kesha as she stood there.

  And as much as he wanted her to get in her box, which she always did when he was away, he just couldn’t.

  “Okay then,” he said. “No box. But I still go first. Okay?”

  Kesha’s face lit up.

  She wrapped her arms around Riley’s neck. Squeezed him tight like he’d just told her they were going to Disneyland or something.

  “Now you’re going to have to be good, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re going to be quiet. For me. Okay?”

  She nodded again. “And if good… me too?”

  She pointed just past Riley, just over his shoulder.

  He looked to where she was pointing.

  Right at the trapdoor.

  Then he turned back to her, and he smiled.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Deal.”

  Her eyes lit up even more.

  He leaned in. Stroked her hair from her eyes. Kissed her.

  “I love you, Kesha,” he said. “If I’ve ever… If I’ve ever let you down, I’m sorry. But I’ve only done what’s right for you. I’ve only done what I can for you.”

  She looked at him like she didn’t understand. And of course she didn’t. Not at an intellectual level.

  But deep down, Riley knew she’d understand.

  He turned around and walked to the trap door.

  Held his breath as he stood by it.

  As he put a hand to it.

  As he went to lift it.

  Every muscle in his body screaming at him not to do this.

  Not to trust it.

  Not to step outside.

  He closed his eyes.

  Took a deep breath.

  Thought of Anna and Ted and everyone he’d lost and what they’d want him to do right now.

  “Remember what I told you,” he said. “Remember what you have to do. If you hear it… you know what you have to do. Where you have to go. Okay?”

  Kesha looked at him for a few seconds. She looked like she was going to argue. Like she didn’t like what he was suggesting.

  Then she nodded.

  “Okay,” he said, breathing heavily, sweating profusely. “Okay.”

  He pushed the trap door open and stepped outside.

  He stood there for a few seconds. Eyes still closed. Breathing still heavy.

  He didn’t want to open his eyes.

  He
didn’t want to look around.

  He didn’t want to see.

  But then he knew he had to.

  He opened his eyes.

  The first thing that hit him was the light.

  Bright, natural light searing against his eyeballs. As much as they had torches and candles down there in the basement, nothing compared to this.

  Bright blue skies.

  Burning sun.

  He shut the trap door. Looked around, his eyes adjusting to his surroundings. For a few seconds, he wasn’t sure where he was, but then it clicked.

  The house.

  The house around him had fallen.

  The walls were down.

  The place had been destroyed.

  Elements of it still stood. A staircase leading to nowhere. Kitchen plates, dirty, smashed on the ground.

  He looked around at this fallen house he’d been underneath for God knows how long.

  And that’s when he saw them.

  All around him.

  The bodies.

  Bodies of the creatures.

  He walked past them. Looked at them lying there. They were malnourished. Bony as fuck. In a worse state than any he’d seen.

  He made his way out of the house, through the door, over towards the woods.

  And all around him, lying in the dead daffodils, he saw the fallen creatures.

  He saw the end of an empire.

  He didn’t know how to feel. Mostly a sense of anti-climax. Because how was one supposed to feel in a situation like this? Happy? Relieved?

  The only thing he felt was sadness.

  Sadness that this was what it had come to.

  That this was how long it had taken.

  That this was how much it had cost.

  He walked. Walked into the woods. Past more bodies. Past more dead. And there was no sense of fear anymore, as the birds sang in the trees beside him. No sense of dread.

  For the first time since 2013, Riley didn’t feel like he had to look over his shoulder.

  Which was ironic.

  Because when he did, he saw them.

  They were standing there.

  Not many of them. Just a few.

  Standing amongst the dead.

  Eyes glazed over.

  Narrowed eyes peering at him from their gaunt expressions.

  Hunger on their faces.

  “We found him,” one of them said. “This is the one.”