After the Blast

by Ryan Casey

  The arrow slammed right through the man’s eye.

  He cried out. Fell to his knees. Blood drooled down his face.

  “Shit,” Jenny said.

  She released another couple of arrows, silencing him as fast as she could. Then she pulled him out of the way with the help of Alison. The door to the bunker was open.

  “Three down,” Jenny said. “Two to go.”

  They stepped inside the bunker. The damp smell hit Alison immediately in a way that made her wonder whether this place was ideal to live in after all. They ran down the narrow, dark corridors. Jenny kept her bow raised. She looked totally focused, totally alert.

  The further they walked, the more uncertain Alison grew. “You sure there were five of them?”

  “I know what I saw,” Jenny said. “They’ll be in here somewhere.”

  “We… we’ve made our point,” Alison said. “We can always just try to negotiate, now.”

  Jenny stopped by the door to their left.

  Raised a finger.

  That’s when she heard it.

  The whispering.

  Jenny lowered her hand towards the handle. Signalled Alison to raise her bow.

  “Jenny, we don’t have to do this.”

  “You didn’t have to come here. You didn’t have to help me.”

  “But—”

  “I’m opening this door.”

  She lowered the handle.

  Pushed open the door.

  Immediately, instinctively, Alison lifted the bow.

  She saw him.

  But it was already too late.

  The arrow flew out of the bow.

  She wanted to stop its progression. Wanted to halt it in its tracks.

  But it was already too late.

  The arrow hit its target.

  She saw the horror. Saw the nightmarish stare on their face.

  And then she felt her whole world crumbling around her.

  She didn’t even see the two other people in the room jumping to their feet.

  She didn’t even acknowledge Jenny putting them down, one by one.

  All she could see was the person the arrow had hit.

  All she could see was the way they looked at her, total fear on their face, and then went totally still.

  “No,” Alison said.

  Because there was a sixth person.

  That sixth person was a boy.

  A child.

  And that child’s eyes closed, and his body fell onto the floor, bleeding out.

  Alison’s arrow in his throat.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kumal didn’t get much sleep that night.

  When the day broke, he realised he must’ve dozed off because he felt sick and groggy in that unfocused way that always followed inadequate sleep. He was covered in a thick film of sweat. The room of the church he was staying in with Gina—segregated from the rest of the residents until they felt more comfortable—was poorly insulated. And just seeing all that religious iconography peering down at him as he rested within its confines… it made him feel uneasy.

  He looked over at Gina. She seemed to still be asleep. He sat up, rubbed his eyes. Outside, he could hear birdsong and chatter already. Peaceful chatter.

  But nothing about this felt right.

  All of it felt wrong.

  He’d gone out last night. He’d gone to investigate the small village of Woodbridgeton to try to find some kind of sign of what might’ve gone down here.

  When he’d reached the pub, he’d seen how boarded up it was. Something had intrigued him about that place. Something had made him want to see what was inside.

  But he’d been stopped before he could make any progress.

  Stopped by the man who claimed to be the peaceful leader of this group, David.

  Kumal felt himself at a crossroads. It was a crossroads he’d been at all night, pondering as he tossed and turned in the dark. He could stay here and enjoy the apparent surface comforts that this place and this group had to offer. Or he could get out of here. He could leave.

  Because one thing was for sure.

  His gut was telling him there was so much wrong with this place.

  And nothing was reassuring him otherwise.

  He looked at Gina again. Felt his throat welling up. She looked so peaceful. So at ease. She’d been through so much already. He could hardly blame her for wanting to believe in the goodness of this place.

  Perhaps he was just being paranoid. Perhaps he was acting irrationally.

  It didn’t change a thing.

  He had a bad feeling about this place.

  And he was going to leave.

  The second Gina woke, Kumal knew it was time.

  “Sleep well?” he asked.

  Gina yawned, rubbed her eyes. “Best sleep I’ve had since all this started. You don’t look too great yourself.”

  “Ever the charmer.”

  “Sorry. I just meant… Are you okay, Kumal?”

  Kumal stared into Gina’s eyes. He knew he couldn’t hide the truth from her for much longer. “Gina, I… I can’t stay here.”

  Gina frowned. “What?”

  “I went out last night,” he said. “I went out into the village, just to see what was going down. To try and bring myself some comfort that I’m just being paranoid. That things really are in order here.”

  “And?”

  “I went over to the pub. The Bull & Royal. I went to break inside it because there was a gap in the boarding over one of the windows. Only David stopped me. He—he told me there were still people living in there. That they weren’t keen on outsiders. He told me to stay away. But I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  Gina narrowed her eyes even further. She looked like she was pondering everything Kumal had said. “So what’re you going to do about it?”

  Kumal swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew he had to be honest. I knew he had to be straight. “Like I said. I can’t stay here, Gina. Not while I feel this way.”

  Gina shook her head. Her cheeks flushed. “You can’t leave.”

  “I have to—”

  “No, you’re being paranoid. You’ve been out there for so long, seen all the reasons not to trust other people, and you’ve bought into them. Believe me, I’ve bought into them too. But these people. David, and the rest of the group. There’s nothing on them. Don’t you see that? They’re just trying to help.”

  “And that’s what bothers me.”

  “What? It bothers you that they’re trying to help?”

  “It bothers me that there’s nothing on them. That—that they seem so damned perfect. But they can’t be, Gina. Nobody can be. They’re hiding something. And as long as I know that—as long as I’m living with it, deep in my bones—I can’t stay here.”

  Gina shook her head. She covered her face with her hands. “So, what? You’re going to go it alone?”

  “I was… I was hoping I wouldn’t have to be alone.”

  Gina looked into his eyes. He saw tears. “Don’t make me choose between this place and you, Kumal. Don’t make me do that.”

  He stood there. Looked into Gina’s eyes. And as much as it tore him apart, he knew the truth. “I think you’ve already made your choice,” he said.

  He walked over to her. Opened his arms. Went to hug her.

  But Gina didn’t even look back at him.

  She just turned away.

  He lowered his arms. Sighed. “Don’t let it end this way. Please.”

  Gina didn’t turn back to him. “You’re the one who decided to leave. You made this choice.”

  Kumal stood there. And for the first time in a long time, he felt totally worn down. Totally defeated. Not least because he had feelings for Gina. He’d felt a bond between them, right from the start. He’d felt a connection.

  And now it felt like that connection was tearing apart.

  “I’ll miss you,” Kumal said.

  Gina didn’t look around. She didn’t even glance at him.


  He took a deep breath. Sighed.

  He knew she was hurting. Reality hurt, after all.

  But it didn’t hurt half as much as the thought that she was choosing this place over him.

  “I want you to come with me, Gina,” Kumal said. “I don’t like this place.”

  “Then leave,” she said.

  She did look at him now. But there was something different to her eyes. Something about them that Kumal didn’t like.

  Anger.

  “Just go,” she said.

  He knew she was upset. He could hear the pain in her voice. He could see the loss in her eyes.

  But right at that moment, Kumal couldn’t walk over to her. He couldn’t comfort her.

  He took a deep breath.

  Turned away.

  And he stepped outside the room, into the church.

  It was time to gather his things.

  It was time to leave.

  It was time to see what awaited on the long, lonely road ahead.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Movement.

  Light, shining down, bright in his eyes.

  Voices.

  A gnawing tension, right at the centre of his chest, eating away.

  Then, silence.

  When he opened his eyes, he was alert to the danger right away.

  He expected darkness. He expected cuffs around his wrists. He expected to be trapped in some kind of garage; somewhere he was going to struggle to get out of.

  There was something weird, though. A few things weird, in fact.

  First, the light.

  He was in a room. A bedroom. Sunlight shone in through the window. He could see a bird outside on one of the trees, singing to its heart’s content.

  The bedroom was bright and well aired. Mike looked around it, head spinning, still a little woozy. His mouth was awfully dry. What had happened?

  Then he saw his leg.

  He saw it first. Which was the thing to note above anything, here. He didn’t feel any pain, which seemed weird considering just how much agony he’d been in so recently.

  Then again… how recent even was this?

  How much time had actually passed?

  And what about…

  “Holly,” he said.

  His daughter. She’d been out there, captured by somebody.

  But then if she was out there, and if time really had passed by… where was she now?

  He clambered out of the bed. Stood up. His leg was surprisingly stable if a little wobbly. He felt like he was using his feet for the first time. Everything was so muddy, so out of focus.

  He stepped across this cool wooden floor towards a door at the other side of the room. He could hear something downstairs. Come to think of it, he could smell something, too. Bacon. Delicious, mouth-watering bacon.

  Which made him ask the question. The question that needed to be asked.

  What was this place?

  Where in the name of hell was he?

  He went to step out of the room when he saw something.

  There was a professional looking medical kit on the dressing table. Bandages. Cleaning alcohol.

  But the things he noticed ahead of anything were the strong sedative pills.

  Strong enough to knock him out for some time.

  Just how long had he been out?

  And who had knocked him out.

  He staggered out of the room. He could hear the voices downstairs clearly, now. The sound of forks and knives clinking against plates. The sound of laughter. The sound of humanity.

  He went to walk across the landing area, keeping as quiet as he could. He wanted to be a step ahead of whoever these people were. He wanted to plot his way out of here; his method of escape.

  But when he reached the edge of the staircase, he saw something else.

  Outside. Outside this large bay window.

  Fields.

  Fields of cows. Of sheep. Of pigs.

  Free range animals.

  Except this wasn’t just an ordinary house.

  This looked to be some kind of—

  “Yeah,” a voice behind him said, taking him by surprise. “Welcome to the Grey Lodge mental health facility. It’s not as daunting as you’d imagined, I hope?”

  Mike turned around. He saw a woman standing there. She was small, with short dark hair and piercing green eyes. She was holding a plate with a bacon sandwich on it.

  “What…” Mike started.

  The woman walked over to him. Went to grab his arm. But Mike yanked his arm away before she had the chance.

  “What is this place?” Mike said.

  “As I just said. It’s—it’s a mental health facility. Although, as you can see, we’ve kind of… expanded a little bit. Made use of the local produce to build something sustainable. Turned the grounds into places where we’ll be able to cultivate crops and raise animals. It’s already well on the way. Far from the finished product, sure. But we’re working towards something much bigger, anyway. How’re you feeling?”

  Mike rubbed his eyes. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight. But he could barely string a sentence together. “My… my daughter.”

  The woman’s face turned. “I’m sorry. But you were alone when we found you. Seriously, it’d be a good idea if you had a bite to eat—”

  “How long have I been out?”

  The woman cleared her throat. “Three days, in and out. You’re a drifter, that’s for sure. But…”

  She kept on talking. Mike could see her lips moving. But he wasn’t taking in anything she was saying. Not anymore.

  Because she’d said the only thing he had to hear.

  He’d been out cold—or at least drifting in and out—for three days.

  Three days since his daughter went missing.

  Three days of trying to find her in this crazy unpredictable world… gone.

  “…So we figured you’d better get your strength up and—”

  Mike pushed past the woman. “Get out of my way.”

  She stumbled to her left. “I’m sorry, but that’s not a good—”

  “My daughter’s out there,” Mike said. “My—my daughter’s out there, and I need to find her. I need to. Please.”

  The woman just looked at Mike, pity in her eyes. “We’re miles from where we found you. From where we helped you. I’m sorry. Truly.”

  Mike ignored her words. He couldn’t listen to her. So instead he just stumbled further down the stairs. He looked to his right. Saw people sitting around a table, food in front of them, bellies well fed.

  And he wanted to believe in this world. He wanted to believe that there really was a place where people were sorting themselves out; where things were pulling back together.

  But not while his Holly was out there.

  Not while she was going through whatever she was going through.

  “I need to find her,” Mike said.

  He went to open the door. Lowered the handle, tried pulling it open.

  But that’s when he noticed something.

  The door. It was locked.

  He turned around. Breathing intensifying. Paranoia spreading. All these eyes staring back at him. All of them judging him.

  “Let me out!” he shouted.

  “I’m sorry,” the woman said, stepping right up to him. “But you’re really going to get some more rest.”

  “But I don’t want—”

  She slammed a needle into his neck.

  Injected.

  He went to kick out. Went to fight. Went to drag the needle away and snap it in his hands.

  But he felt his body growing weak.

  Felt his knees buckling.

  Felt himself drifting away.

  And as he fell to the floor, all he could think about was Holly.

  He’d find her.

  He’d…

  Chapter Nineteen

  Three days later, and Alison still couldn’t get the memory of that poor boy out of her mind.

  The summer had taken a turn for
the worse. It hadn’t stopped raining here ever since that fateful moment of stepping into the bunker with Jenny, it seemed.

  And even if it had, a dark cloud had been hanging over her ever since.

  The memory of what she’d done.

  She was outside gathering water. One of the methods Jenny had taught her, of the many things she’d taught her in the last few days. They’d placed a steel sheet on the roof of the bunker and were capturing it via a filter before it fell into the buckets below. Jenny advised boiling it anyway for absolute certainty, but at least they had a good thing going—at least they had a plan. Alison was currently bottling some of it up while it was fresh.

  Alison liked the whole learning thing. It kept her mind off what had happened; off the circumstances of her arrival.

  But it was at night, lying in the dark where Alison’s memories really haunted her, robbing her of sleep.

  At least now she was outside. At least now she was focused.

  After gathering the water, Jenny had given her a job for the day. Something different while she tended to the bunker. She was to go out into the woods and check on the traps. Set a few up while she was out there. After all, without the ability to trap, she wasn’t going to survive this mess long-term.

  She had a choice. She could stay in here, adding to the cabin fever that had slowly crept in these last few days. Or she could get out there. Stretch her legs. Prove her worth—to herself more than anyone.

  She took a deep breath as she stood at the gates of the bunker. She hadn’t seen anyone at all in the last three days other than Jenny and Arya. Arya hadn’t left her side. Probably sensed there was something wrong with her; something getting to her.

  Which there was. Of course, there was.

  But that wasn’t going to get in her way. Not anymore.

  She stepped out of the gates, out into the outside, out into the unknown.

  She walked for a while, Arya by her side. Even though it was rainy, and the grass was slushy, she found it less alarming than she’d expected. She had the equipment to set the traps with under her arm. The birds were still singing. Everything was so peaceful.

  She looked at the trees up ahead. The trees she’d emerged from just days ago. She remembered how rotten she’d felt then; how she felt like she was never going to recover from the infection coursing through her bloodstream. But she had. She’d found a way, and here she was, feeling much better.