End of the End

by Paul Kane, Simon Guerrier

  “They wouldn’t abandon the mission,” said Barnden.

  “Their mission was to get us to Dungeness,” said Jane. “We’re pretty much within sight of it. Maybe they thought it was enough. I wouldn’t blame them for not sticking around.”

  “No,” said Jack. “I don’t think they’d leave us. They must be in the town.”

  “So something has gone wrong,” said Jane.

  “Maybe,” said Jack. “Or there’s a complication and they don’t think it’s safe to come and find us just now.”

  “So what do we do?” said Barnden. “We can’t hang around. If they’re interrogated or tortured, they’ll tell them we’re all out here.”

  Jack considered. They didn’t have the resources to mount a rescue—and they didn’t know one was warranted—but they couldn’t wait around. The answer was obvious, wasn’t it? The problem, he saw looking round his remaining friends, was that no one wanted to be the arsehole who said it.

  “All right,” he said. “We move on.”

  Jane was appalled. “You really want to abandon them?”

  “What I want doesn’t matter,” he told her, as calmly as he could. “It’s about what we are capable of. We cut around the town. We can’t take the bikes through the field, so we’ll stash them and continue on foot.”

  “And the man-traps?” said Jane. “You said we couldn’t risk them. That’s why Alice and Nathaniel went into the town!”

  “We go now while it’s still light, and we watch our step. Look, I don’t like this either. But Alice and Nathaniel are big enough to look after themselves. They’ll catch us up.”

  No one believed him, but they nodded their assent. That only disgusted Jane all the more. “Those two saved our lives—twice in as many days.”

  “I know,” said Jack. “But we put the mission first.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BARNDEN WENT FIRST through the field, treading lightly and carefully but moving quickly. The others followed in single file, trying to tread in his footsteps. It meant concentrating on each next step rather than looking where they were heading or watching for movement from the town. They kept low, hunched over, which made Jack’s gunshot wound throb.

  “There aren’t any mantraps,” he said after maybe half an hour, sweat dripping from his brow.

  Ahead of him, Barnden slowed to a halt. Kit didn’t notice and bumped into Nina, and she pushed him away. Barnden moved swiftly, grabbing Kit’s arm before he fell back—then pointed at the ground.

  Jack couldn’t see it at first and had to crouch down for a better look. But yes, protruding from the soil he saw a rusted fragment of metal, a pattern of teeth in a curve. He made out the circular shape of the buried trap.

  “Home-made,” concluded Barnden.

  “Um,” said Nina. “What do we do if we stand on one?”

  Kit, adrenaline pumping after his near-escape, tried to make light of it. “Say goodbye to your leg,” he said. “Ker-splatch.”

  Barnden shook his head. “This thing snares you, so the townspeople take you prisoner. If you stand on one, we get you out.”

  “But I wouldn’t advise it,” said Jane. “Those teeth will do enough damage. Then there’s the chance of infection.”

  “Nasty way to go,” nodded Barnden. “So, watch out for your feet.”

  “But what about the others?” said Nina. “If Nathaniel and Alice follow us this way...”

  Barnden looked to Jack.

  “They’ll leave the town by road,” Jack said. “No need to come this way.”

  “But they might try to find us,” said Nina.

  “They saw the signs,” said Jack. “And they’ll know to be careful. We can’t discuss it now. Look—it’s getting dark. We need to be out of here while we can still see.”

  They went on, playing close attention to exactly where Barnden trod.

  A PALLID MOON shone down as they at last stumbled on to what Nina’s hand-drawn map said was Dungeness Road. It felt foolhardy to be out in the open—surely someone in the town behind them would see them on the road. Yet the only hope of cover was in the fields on either side of them, which meant man-traps and who knew what else.

  The road wound through marshlands, an ancient sign proclaiming what had once been a ‘National Nature Reserve’—from a far away age when nature required guarding from man. Wild animals barked and cried in the darkness, and Barnden took the bow from his shoulder, ready to shoot anything that dared to approach. Something large watched them as they passed, eyes shining in the night, but didn’t come any closer.

  Suddenly Barnden halted, looking back up the road they had come. Jack followed his gaze but couldn’t see anything.

  “What is it?” he whispered.

  “Off the road,” said Barnden. They scrambled down a shallow bank of mud. There was no way—or time—to check for man-traps; they just slithered down into the muck. Barnden told them to huddle together and keep completely still. Jack lay between Kit and Jane. The mud stank wetly, and didn’t help his sudden urge to pee.

  Then, on the wind, he heard it: a rumble like distant thunder, off towards the town. He didn’t relish the thought of being caught out in a storm.The sound became more distinct: something on the road, something wheeled and moving at speed. He dared to raise his head and look, but could see nothing coming. Barnden smacked him lightly on the back of the head to make him duck back down. He waited, face down in the mud, as the noise got ever nearer. There were footsteps—a whole group of people, racing down the road. And the heavy wheels of whatever vehicle they ran with.

  The vehicle and the footsteps passed by their hiding place and carried on down the road. Jack and the others lay in the mud for an agonising time, listening to it recede. Then Barnden crept forward and dared to take a look. He gestured, silently, for Jack to follow him.

  In the feeble moonlight, Jack just made out a group of people hurrying away down the road. They surrounded a structure twice their size, apparently pulling it along as they ran. It took Jack a moment to recognise the shape, it had been so long since he’d seen one. A horse box, like you’d attach behind a car.

  “Bit late for making deliveries,” he whispered. “And why such a rush?” Barnden didn’t say anything, only stared after the horse box as it disappeared into the night. Jane, Kit and Nina joined them on the road.

  “They might have been friendly,” said Kit.

  “Better to be wary,” Jack told him. “For one thing, they outnumbered us.”

  “Do you think they’re heading to the reactor?” said Jane.

  “Maybe, but we don’t know what else is down here,” said Jack.

  “Then you don’t think Nathaniel and Alice were inside that thing?”

  Jack shrugged. “I can’t see why they would be.” But as they continued down the road, he was haunted by the thought that they might have missed a chance to rescue their friends.

  They trudged down the road through the marshlands, the night chill piercing them to their bones. Jack’s gunshot wound ached horribly and he wanted to sleep, but he kept on, trying to stay alert to the sound of more people on the road, or the return of the horse box.

  They came to a junction. To their left, enclosed in the remains of a barbed wire fence, stood the terminus of a railway—without a station or name boards. On the right was a road junction, the lane closest to them painted blood red. PRIVATE PROPERTY declared the fierce capital letters straddling the road.

  “This is it,” said Nina. “The approach road. It’s just over a mile down there.”

  “Great,” said Jane. “Then we’re here.”

  “Hang on,” said Jack. “It’s very exposed. If that horse box comes back, they’ll see us straight away. Let’s at least wait till morning, when we can see what we’re facing.”

  They left the turning and followed the Dungeness Road until they heard the crash of the sea somewhere up ahead. Barnden found a secluded spot off the road where he felt they could set up camp. He wouldn’t let them build a fire
.

  “Death by frostbite,” said Jane. “Fucking hell.”

  “Make the most of it,” Jack chided her. “Our last night under the stars.”

  They cuddled up under their blankets, the five surviving members of the expedition, holding each other close solely for the warmth. With the sea, and the panorama of the Milky Way glittering above them, Jack felt small and insignificant and not worth being afraid.

  THE SEA AIR made their blankets clammy and cold, so they had no choice to get up in the morning and face whatever the day had in store. Barnden checked the road for signs of activity, then allowed them a small fire on which to cook breakfast.

  They ate their paltry slops and were tested one last time on their physics. Jack and Jane recited the answers together, in the same bored monotone—making Kit and Nina laugh.

  “Word perfect,” concluded Nina as she reached the end of the last handwritten page.

  “I’m still not sure what we actually do when we get in there,” said Jack.

  “They’ll have information in there,” said Jane with confidence. “We just read the manual.”

  “Because it’s going to be that easy.”

  “’Course it is,” said Jane. “What can possibly go wrong?”

  After breakfast, as the others packed up and hid the traces of their camp, Jane helped Jack wash and unbind his arm from the bandages. He had pins and needles as he flexed his fingers, and couldn’t hold his razor still; Jane had to shave him, too. She helped him into his one clean shirt without too much jagging pain. She scraped sweet-smelling oil over the top of her head, then washed it away with the last of the bucket of sea water Barnden brought them. Then she changed her bloody, dirty top for a clean black jumper with a hole in one elbow.

  “Okay?” she asked Jack.

  “Bit nervous. Like we’re going on a date.”

  She grinned. “Won’t be as bad as that.” She turned to Barnden, Kit and Nina. “We’re ready to go.”

  THE ACCESS ROAD cut through a wilderness of rock and scrub and shallow pools of water. An icy breeze came at them from the sea. It started to drizzle, the cold pinching at their faces and hands where they were exposed.

  About half a mile down the road stood a burnt-out building. It might once have been an office or hotel. Two men with rifles emerged from the doorway, but didn’t raise their guns.

  “What do we do?” whispered Jane.

  “Keep going,” said Barnden. “Like we’re meant to be here.”

  He nodded to the men and one of them nodded back.

  A little later the road curved round to the right and then they could see the nuclear power station, a huge complex of windowless grey buildings inland from the sea and surrounded by some kind of wall. Pale smoke rose from various chimneys and they could feel the thrum of energy from the complex. Beyond, row after row of enormous pylons stood rusting and coming apart. Jack’s mouth felt horribly dry.

  Closer, and they saw that the wall around the reactor buildings was some kind of high fence, covered in all kinds of junk: blankets and scarves, flapping in the wind; signs with crudely painted slogans about peace and destiny and the end being nigh. People milled around the fence at regular intervals—but there was no one beyond it.

  There was movement, too, in what looked like a sprawling rubbish tip to the left of the main complex, centred around a low, grey building. The building was only low, Jack realised as they got closer, compared to the rest of the site; it was probably three or four storeys high. People scoured the rubbish tip for items of value, bobbing in and out of sight. Children scurried about, playing games and shouting. It wasn’t a tip, but a shanty town.

  “There could be two hundred people down there,” said Jane. “What if they don’t like the look of us?”

  “Too late,” said Barnden. “They’ve seen us.”

  A delegation of people was on the road ahead, coming up to meet them. Barnden glanced at Jack.

  “No problem,” said Jack. “Like you said: we act like we’re meant to be here.” They carried on, Barnden going first, shielding Kit and Nina.

  The approaching men and women—there were seven of them, outnumbering Jack’s band—looked half-starved and a little crazy. No, Jack realised, they were overjoyed.

  “Hello, there!” cried one woman in a bedraggled cardigan. “I’m Laura Hoffman, one of the committee here.” Her accent was cut glass, every syllable perfect. “Call me Laura, please. We don’t stand on ceremony here.”

  “Hello,” said Jack, stepping forward. He then wasn’t sure what exactly to do, so unthinkingly extended his injured arm in greeting. Laura shook his hand warmly, making him cry out.

  “Oh, dear darling,” said Laura, embracing him—he got a whiff of charcoal and cats. “You must have suffered on the road.”

  “It’s not much,” he said, embarrassed to have shown her such weakness.

  “We’ve doctors and medicines,” she told him. “You’ll have all you need.”

  “Like what?” said Jane, and one of the men in Laura’s group began to list their facilities. Jane was visibly impressed; they even had what they referred to as a surgery.

  Laura led him and the others down the road towards the commune.

  “The reactor,” said Jack. “It looks like it’s still working.”

  “Oh, don’t be deceived,” said Laura. “There are no lights on, as you can see. But the noise and smoke, it’s brewing up in there. Ready to explode, any moment now. Just like in the north.”

  “Right,” said Jack. “Well, that’s why we’re here.”

  Laura took his hand. “Are you ready to die?”

  “If that’s how it’s got to be.”

  She squeezed his hand tight. “It has. But we shall all be cleansed.”

  Jack tried not to show his surprise. “Yes, that’s what we all hope for. Um. What does it involve? I mean, exactly.”

  “You’re afraid. A lot of us are, there’s no good denying it. But it’s going to be all right. There won’t be any pain. And you don’t need to do anything but wait with the rest of us. We have games for the children—yours might be too old for that. But you can help us with the fence. We’re putting up symbols to represent those who’ve gone before us. To make them part of the end.”

  “Right, yes, of course.”

  Her eyes twinkled kindly. “I can see you’re not a believer. That’s okay. We’ve all sorts here. There are those who think the radiation will cure all ailments or even heal the world. And there are those who know it’s the end of days and it’s better to go in the explosion, not drag it out over months or years. We’ve lost so much already and the world is so cruel that we should be thankful.”

  “Um,” said Jack. “Has no one tried to get in there?” Laura looked stung. “I mean,” said Jack, “people who aren’t so enlightened. Do you have to guard against it?”

  “Some have tried,” said Laura, sniffily. “We discourage it.”

  “But it’s not forbidden.”

  “Of course it’s forbidden,” laughed Laura. “That’s why we discourage it.”

  “Sure,” said Jack, reasonably. “It’s just I want to understand how it works. What’s happening here is so important.”

  Laura nodded. “We’re vigilant at the fence. But we’ve not had to shoot anyone in a good while. That’s because of the discouragement. The ones who were shot we put on display.”

  She indicated the grey building around which the shanty town clustered. Now they were closer, Jack could see the skeletal remains tethered to the roof. At least a dozen up there, one of them small, possibly a child. Crows wheeled round the bodies, idly pecking at the flesh. Some of the bodies looked fresh.

  “I thought you said you hadn’t had to do it in a while,” said Jack.

  “Oh,” said Laura lightly. “That’s not people who rushed the fence. We work with the local communities. You must have come through one of the towns earlier today.”

  Jack nodded, his mouth dry. Nathaniel and Alice had gone throu
gh the town.

  “And they welcomed you in, offered you something to eat?” asked Laura, with a smile.

  “They were very hospitable,” nodded Jack.

  “And they asked why you were heading this way?”

  Jack didn’t answer, staring up at the gruesome spectacle hanging from the side of the building. The poor unfortunates being picked apart by crows up there had given the wrong answer to that question, daring to suggest that they wanted to stop a nuclear explosion killing everyone for miles. Now he knew, he could see them clearly. The sunlight glinted on a pair of thick spectacles held on with elastic, and on a hook instead of a hand.

  CHAPTER NINE

  DESPITE THE IMMINENT nuclear holocaust, Laura’s community were keen to keep up with the paperwork. Jack and his friends sat at a line of tables inside the low, grey building, working their way through pages and pages of forms. They were all numb with shock from the brutal loss of their friends. Nina had to choke back tears, for they were all desperately aware that any slip up they made in front of Laura and her cult would see them meet the same fate as Nathaniel and Alice.

  Jack couldn’t help going over what he might have done differently. If they’d stopped the horse box as it passed them on the road, he thought. If Nathaniel and Alice and been inside it, and if they’d still been alive...

  He was also worried about the others sat with him now. Yet he himself didn’t feel afraid. There was little hope he’d survive very long anyway: he’d die trying to get into the nuclear reactor, or because he managed to. But his fearlessness was mostly down to the fact that it hadn’t sunk in. Filling in paperwork while sat in what was basically a village hall felt almost homely and normal, not the prelude to horrible death.

  Around them, children chased each other back and forth in a complex game of ever-changing rules. The children were aged, Jack guessed, between about three and twelve, all noisy, healthy kids without a care in the world—presumably not knowing of its imminent end. When one small child slipped and crashed to the ground, another, older child scooped her up for a hug then set her on her feet, and the game continued.