After the Blast

by Ryan Casey

  The man’s head popped right there. A few small fragments of his skull and brain splattered over his daughter, who kept on holding his body as it fell to the ground.

  Andrei stepped back. Wiped the tip of his rifle. And then he held it out to the little girl, Emma. “You’ll need this,” he said. “It’ll help you get by in this world.”

  He put it in her hands.

  Patted the back of her hands.

  “If anyone asks where you got it… you tell them your new leaders gave it you. And that they’d better obey, or their daughters and sons will be next.”

  He stood up, then. Walked away from the little girl, away from her dead father, away from this entire scene.

  He looked over his shoulder one last time.

  Looked at the mass of dead bodies. Thirty of them in total. Men, women, and children. Just one of them left standing.

  He took a deep breath of the humid air, and he smiled.

  “Come on,” he said to the rest of his people. “We’ve got work to do.”

  Chapter Nine

  Mike stared at the wrecked remains of his and Holly’s tent, and he didn’t know how to react.

  The sun had gone behind the clouds, a chill coming through the air as the morning rolled into afternoon. All around, there was nothing but silence. No trace of the people who’d been here. Just that wreckage.

  And their lack of supplies.

  He felt tension building inside. All kinds of things flashed in his mind: why had they been complacent? Why had they left this place unguarded? They were only weeks in, and they were letting their guard drop. Mike knew they should’ve known better.

  But then it was easy for complacency to slip in. After all, the woods seemed so safe. So serene, even. They hadn’t run into any trouble yet. It seemed secure.

  He’d been foolish to fall for the myth that it was safe. Foolish to fall for that lie.

  But there was one thing the group who had taken from him hadn’t counted on.

  And that was just how determined he was to get his things back.

  That was the very fact that he wasn’t the kind of guy who screwed around. Never had been, and especially wasn’t anymore.

  In a way, he knew storming after the group and threatening them wasn’t ideal. After all, they’d only done what he’d have done if he’d encountered a find like they had. And it wasn’t even like he had his rifle left—whatever little ammo remained—anyway.

  But at the same time… that group hadn’t just taken supplies from him—supplies he knew were going to be very useful down the line. They’d outright trashed his tent and ransacked what he called home.

  There was no need for any of that. They’d done it out of pure spite, clearly.

  And if he caught up with them, he’d make sure they knew what a bad mistake they’d made.

  “We’re just going to have to start again,” Holly said.

  Mike frowned when she spoke. She sounded so calm about it. Defeated, almost. “What?”

  She stood there, arms wrapped around her chest. She shrugged. “I mean, it’s not great.”

  “No, it’s not great. Those people took everything we’ve worked for.”

  “There’s always going to be setbacks.”

  “They trashed our tent.”

  “We were always going to be moving on from it, eventually.”

  Mike shook his head, puffed out his breath. “I can’t believe how calm you are about all this.”

  “I don’t see I’ve really got a choice. The stuff’s gone. There’s not a lot we can do. Moping’s not going to take us very far, anyway.”

  Mike shook his head. He looked back at the makeshift tent, the torn tarp and the burned wood holding it up. Then he looked at the trees beyond. “I just don’t like seeing people get away with…”

  He stopped.

  He stopped because right then, he saw it.

  Over on the tree just up ahead.

  He frowned. Walked over towards it.

  And when he reached it, he saw it clearly.

  “What is it?” Holly asked.

  Mike wiped the red mark from the tree. It was still damp. “Looks like one of our friends was bleeding.”

  He looked further ahead, and it felt like the whole world was opening up in front of him; like a path was forming ahead of him. He could see more specks of blood.

  And they were leading right ahead.

  He felt his body tense. An urge to see out justice. He gripped onto the Becker BK2 blade he always carried with him, and he went to take a step.

  “Don’t.”

  The voice sounded like it came from somewhere else. Mostly because it was so unexpected.

  But when he looked to his side, he realised he already knew the source of the voice well. Very well.

  It was Holly.

  She was standing there, eyes wide, staring up at him. She was shaking her head.

  “Holly—”

  “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to go down this path. Not again.”

  He crouched opposite her. Took her hands in his. “Sometimes, there’s things we just have to do. Things we just can’t let go.”

  “But I’m asking you to let this go,” Holly said. “For me. Please.”

  He heard the desperation in her voice. And for a moment, he wanted to honour her. He wanted to follow Holly’s wishes. She’d seen enough chaos. She’d seen her dad kill people. She’d killed people herself. They were things that were unimaginable just a fortnight ago; even less, perhaps.

  But things were different now.

  The world had changed.

  A balance had to be restored.

  “You stay here.”

  “Don’t tell me to stay here,” Holly said. “If you’re going, you’re going. But… but I just want you to know I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. This—this is a mistake, Dad. Please.”

  Mike went to say something else to Holly.

  That’s when he heard it.

  The shuffling.

  The shuffling, right in the distance.

  Right down the path of blood.

  He looked around.

  He could see movement.

  Something possessed him, then. Something tensed his body, made him seize up.

  He heard Holly saying things to him. Heard her asking him—pleading with him—to show composure, to keep it under control.

  But it was too late.

  Mike saw an opportunity.

  He was already on his way.

  He raced through the grass. Threw himself forward, towards whoever was there. He heard Holly’s footsteps following closely behind.

  The further he got, the more the specks of blood seemed to change. The more they seemed to turn into full blown puddles. And Holly was right. It didn’t feel right. Something didn’t feel right.

  That’s when he saw it.

  Almost fell over it.

  Or rather, him.

  There was a man on the grass below him. He was bleeding from his ankle—badly. Dragging himself along. Sweating. Total fear in his eyes.

  He looked up at Mike, holding his knife, and he looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

  “Run,” he said. “Get—get away. Just—just…”

  Mike lowered down by his side. That’s when he saw something else. His wounds. They were worse than just a bleeding ankle. On this man’s body there were loose flaps of skin. It looked like he’d been tortured. Cut.

  Sickness engulfed Mike. The birdsong seemed to have stopped. Everything was still.

  “Run,” the man gasped. “Just…”

  That’s when Mike heard it.

  That’s when everything changed.

  A scream.

  Mike spun around.

  Movement in the bushes just behind him.

  Movement where Holly was.

  Except she wasn’t there anymore.

  She was gone.

  Holly was gone.

  Chapter Ten

  Alison watched t
he woman yank the arrow out of the fallen man’s neck, and she wasn’t sure how to react.

  Her head spun. She felt sickness and nausea in the pit of her stomach. Her heart pounded; her eyes ached with the exhaustion, and her body shook with starvation and malnutrition. She wondered if perhaps this was all just a hallucination; if perhaps she’d really been attacked by that guy who’d come marching in here and invented her saviour in her mind after all.

  But the more she blinked, the more she tried to tell herself that she couldn’t have been bailed out—that this couldn’t be real—the more she realised perhaps it was true after all.

  Especially with Arya staring over at the woman with suspicion, too.

  The woman stepped up. Walked out of the caravan, almost like Alison wasn’t there at all.

  “You want to watch what kind of shit you get yourself caught up in,” she said. “Next time, you might not have someone around to bail you out.”

  Then, without turning to look at Alison, she walked away.

  Alison sat there, totally stunned. She still hadn’t got her head around what’d just happened. Part of her was just grateful that she’d been bailed out.

  But the other…

  The other wanted to know who this woman was.

  She wanted to know who’d saved her.

  And she wanted to go wherever she was going.

  She stood up. Clambered her way out of the caravan, even if she was disoriented.

  In the distance, she saw the woman walking off, not even looking over her shoulder, not even turning back.

  “Hey!” Alison called.

  The woman didn’t turn around.

  Alison staggered down the caravan steps. She realised just how weak she was, now. Everything was catching up with her.

  “Please!” she shouted. “Just… just wait.”

  The woman stopped, then. She turned around, rolled her eyes. And for the first time, Alison got a good look at her in the light. She was ginger and slim, with a distinct birthmark on her neck. Her face was mean, and she didn’t look like the kind of person anyone wanted to cross.

  She shook her head when she scanned Alison from head to toe then back again. “Look at the state of you. Probably would’ve done you a favour by letting you die.”

  Alison stood there, shaking. She’d always thought of herself as a strong woman. Always thought of herself as independent; as someone who could stand up for herself and fight her own battles.

  But now, she hadn’t felt weaker in her entire life.

  “I just wanted to thank you,” Alison said, her voice shaking. She realised how long it’d been since she’d spoken to anyone. “If you hadn’t—if you hadn’t done what you just did, I wouldn’t—”

  “Save the sentimentality,” the woman said. “It won’t get you far in this world.”

  She turned away and went to walk again.

  Alison felt desperation building up inside. She’d never felt loneliness before, not like this. But now, it had reared its head. Now, it was strong.

  She didn’t want to let it win.

  She didn’t want to let her moment of human contact drift off into the breeze.

  “I was with a group,” she said. “We… we got separated. I found a safe zone. And then…”

  She trailed off. She didn’t know why she was telling the woman this. Mostly just that longing for connection; that urge to make some kind of bond in a world that had rapidly become so lonely.

  She saw something, though. A shift in the demeanour of this woman. A change in the way she was looking at her. A sigh.

  “So you’ve met our new overlords, too.”

  She stumbled in Alison’s direction, then. She stopped, right in front of her.

  “Look,” she said. “I mean, maybe I was wrong to write you off too easily. You made it this far, after all. But all I can say is… well, just keep your head low. And if you see those guys? Yeah. You run. You run for your damned life. Because they don’t hold fire. They don’t hold back.”

  A bitter taste filled Alison’s mouth. She remembered what she’d seen at the supposed safe zone—those people all lying there, dead. People who had been looking for salvation. People who had been looking for safety.

  And then she remembered what she’d found in the woods, too. The discovery she’d made when she was still with Mike and the others—what seemed like an eternity ago.

  The people. Hanging.

  The woman. Pregnant.

  “Least you’ve got a nasty-looking dog with you. She’ll take you far.”

  Alison looked down at Arya. She was sniffing at this woman now like she was far too trusting.

  The woman went to turn away, and Alison felt the moment slipping through her fingers once again.

  “At least tell me your name,” she said, her voice shaky.

  The woman stopped. Paused. “My name doesn’t matter. Neither of our names matter.”

  “Well, I’m Alison,” she said. “And I want to thank you. I want to thank you for saving my life. At least you can allow me that, right?”

  The woman turned around again. Scanned her from head to toe. This time, though, she had a different look on her face. A look of sympathy. A look of concern.

  “How long have you been on your own again?”

  Alison went to respond, out of pure reaction more than anything.

  That’s when she realised she didn’t know. Not exactly.

  “A long time,” the woman said, filling in the silence. “I can guess that much.”

  “I’m struggling,” Alison said.

  The woman visibly swallowed a lump in her throat like it was something she really didn’t want to hear. “I can see that, too. And it worries me.”

  “I’m struggling now,” Alison said. “But I was doing well. I—I was part of a group. We made it this far. And then… I just need someone to give me another chance.”

  The woman looked back at Alison, tears glistening in her eyes. “That’s the problem, Alison. I don’t do things with other people. I do things on my own. The world’s weak enough as it is, and I can’t afford to be propping other people up myself. Not after…”

  She stopped, then. Her gaze drifted off into the distance. And Alison found herself in a strange position. A position she wasn’t expecting.

  Alison found herself begging.

  “I just can’t do this anymore,” she said.

  The woman turned around. Specks of rain started to fall. “You’ll find a w…”

  She might’ve said something else.

  She might’ve continued.

  She might’ve said a whole lot else.

  Alison didn’t know.

  She fell to the ground.

  Darkness filled her vision again.

  And then, nothing.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kumal watched the group walking towards him, and he wasn’t sure how to feel.

  The clouds had gathered overhead. It felt like afternoon, although it could’ve still been morning for all he knew. A deep hunger gnawed inside him; a hunger that hadn’t even nearly been satiated since the beginning of the EMP outage. He’d already switched belt sizes, and he wasn’t a big lad in the first place by any stretch of the imagination.

  Watching this group of people—twelve strong at least—march towards him right now… that was almost enough to make him lose another damned stone on the spot.

  “What do you think?” Gina asked.

  Kumal felt even sicker when Gina spoke. Mostly because her acknowledging the group coming their way really highlighted and drove home that they really were heading in their direction.

  They’d seen Kumal and Gina, too. So there was no walking away now. There was no turning away.

  This was it.

  “I say we see who these people are,” Kumal said, as contrary as it was to his feelings. “See… see what they have to say for themselves.”

  Gina was quiet. Which was weird. She was usually the one that was proposing the idea that they found a
larger group; that they couldn’t survive out here on their own.

  “Gina?” Kumal said.

  She looked back at him. Blinked a few times like she was weighing it up. “I’m not sure.”

  “You’re not sure? But I thought—”

  “I’m just—”

  “Hey!”

  The voice came from up ahead. Kumal looked around. Saw the leader of the group, heavily bearded, standing there, hands on his sides.

  He was looking at them both with a smile on his face.

  Kumal was still. Gina was, too. He could feel his own heartbeat racing hard in his chest, and he’d harbour a guess Gina’s was going off at a similar level, too.

  “We don’t mean any harm,” the man said. “Quite the opposite, friends. We’re a family here, you see? One big happy family, the way it should be in this awful world. And we’re going to keep on getting bigger. Keep on spreading the good word!”

  Kumal couldn’t lie. This man seemed pretty friendly. He couldn’t deny that he seemed… decent. And the people around him, they didn’t look like savages. They didn’t look like escaped prisoners or anything like that. And they especially didn’t look like they were here by any other means than choice.

  So what was stopping him approaching this group?

  What was causing his reluctance?

  Too many movies, probably.

  Too many movies where when things seemed too good to be true, they usually were.

  “Kumal?” Gina said.

  Kumal snapped back into the present. Because as much trepidation as he felt; as much reluctance as he felt… he just put it down to uncertainty. He put it down to nerves. That’s all he could do.

  The movies were movies for a reason.

  This was reality.

  He had to at least weigh this group up.

  He took a deep breath, and he stepped forward.

  The man smiled at him as he got closer. His smile did falter, just a little bit. And his gaze seemed more concerned with Gina than it did him.

  But then he looked back at Kumal and held out a hand. “Hello, friend. My name’s David. And may I say it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

  Kumal took his hand—somewhat reluctantly, albeit. “Kumal,” he said.