Poppy broke off from the hug and looked up at him. She was still such a tiny girl, but had grown nearly half-a-foot in the time he’d known her. Eventually she’d start to become a woman. He dreaded to think how he would keep her safe then. She’s already a handful at nine. Last night she said she loved me. Should I have said it back? Saying ‘I love you’ to a child that wasn’t his own felt wrong somehow. In the old world, the relationship he had with Poppy would have been scrutinised, but the truth was that he felt for her the same way as any father would. He could never replace her real parents, but she was his to love and protect, and he would do the very best job he was able. So why didn’t I say the word back to her?
“I did you a drawing,” Poppy said, handing over a curled sheet of sketch paper. Three months ago, Garfield had found an art set in one of the abandoned shops on the sea front, along with a few reams of paper. He’d given it to Poppy as a gift. With so little to do around the pier, the girl had become quite the accomplished artist.
“What is it?” he asked her.
“Well, if you looked at it you would know, dummy.”
Garfield studied the sketch and saw that it was a finely detailed drawing of a pond. There was a large overhanging fern tree, shaded in multiple browns and greens, and a slick sheet of moss across the water. In the foreground was a family of what looked like moorhens – their beaks red with a pointed tip of bright yellow crayon. “This is great,” he said, truly meaning it. “When did you get so good?”
Poppy blushed. “It’s the pond by my house – my old house. My mum used to take me out to feed the birds. I think about it whenever I’m sad. I thought you could look at the picture whenever you get sad.”
Garfield felt a lump in his throat but swallowed it. He pulled Poppy close and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.” I should say the word now. I should tell her that I love her. “Poppy, I lo-”
“Ready to go?” asked Alistair, marching towards them with a grimace on his face. “I still think this is a bad idea, you know? If it was just you and a few others leaving, Garfield, then perhaps it would be okay, but you’re taking half the camp with you.”
Garfield sighed. Alistair could let nothing go without an argument. “We’ve already discussed this, Al. You’ll be fine. The more supplies I can carry back with me the better.”
“I just think it’s selfish.”
“Selfish? How?”
Anna interrupted. “It’s decided now, so let’s not bicker.”
Alistair folded his chubby arms across his fat chest and looked comically irate, like a red-faced cartoon villain. “I suppose it is decided,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though. Just make sure you bring back something useful,” he said to Garfield. “We’re running low on salt, for one thing. We need it to cure the fish we catch.”
“Grab some multi-vitamin pills, too, if you get chance,” Anna told him. “People are starting to get sickly. All we eat is fish and beans. There’s stuff our bodies aren’t getting.”
Garfield nodded. “Salt…vitamins…got it.” He turned around and did a quick head count of the foragers. Alistair was right: he was taking more than half the camp with him – eight, nine, ten, plus me. Everyone was present and ready to go. Garfield was the only one holding things up. Poppy’s picture went into the breast pocket of his heavy woollen overcoat.
Anna folded her arms and sighed. She was usually a stern and unemotional women, but she seemed unusually apprehensive. It would be the most dangerous forage Garfield had embarked on, so he supposed a few nerves were understandable. “Looks like it’s time to go,” she said. “You take care out there, okay?”
“Yeah,” said Poppy. “You promised me you would always come back, so don’t die.”
Garfield huffed. Women did like to worry. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he assured them. “I’ll be fine. Before you know it, I’ll be back with a truckload of supplies.”
“And hopefully some guns,” said Alistair.
Garfield nodded. “That’s the plan.”
Poppy was beginning to sniffle. There were tears brimming at the bottom of her eyes, but she was chewing on one of her blonde plaits to keep from crying – she often did that lately. Garfield forced a smile onto his face. Happy expressions weren’t something he wore well, but he knew the girl needed a gesture from him right now. Like telling her that I love her. She spat her hair out. Her bottom lip quivered. “I-I don’t like it when you leave.”
Garfield bent down so that they were eye to eye. “I don’t either, Popcorn. While I’m gone, you need to listen to Anna, okay? She’s going to keep an eye on you for me. Part of being a grown-up is being able to listen to other people, okay? Will you listen to Anna for me?”
Poppy nodded. Anna patted her on the shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”
“Good.” Garfield straightened up and cleared his throat. “And stay off those bloody rooftops. You’re gunna have a fall one day.”
Poppy grinned. “Never. Climbing is one of the only fun things to do around here.”
“Just be careful, then.”
“Garf,” Kirk shouted from over by the gate. “We’re wasting light, man. Let’s get our arses in gear.”
Garfield nodded. He gave Poppy one last smile and then turned around. He could hear the girl begin to sob behind him, but he didn’t turn back to look at her. The sight of her crying wasn’t something he wanted to take on the journey. It hurt badly enough just knowing that he was the reason for her tears, without having to see the pain etched on her innocent face and remembering it every time he closed his eyes. Rescuing her that the day was the best and worst thing I ever did.
When Garfield had found Poppy inside the big house beside the pond, he had been looking only for food. He was getting so desperate that the notion of beating other survivors and taking their food was beginning to seem less and less like a crime. He had not spoken to another human being in weeks and was beginning to forget the sound of his own voice. His hygiene and manners had become meaningless. The only thing that mattered was surviving, no matter what. He was becoming like an animal.
But then he had found a little girl close to death and everything had changed. Focusing on her needs and keeping her safe brought back his humanity in one fell swoop and refocused him on what it meant to be alive. The temptation to kill and steal from others went away, replaced by love and affection. Poppy reminded him that there were still helpless, innocent people in the world and that they needed looking after. She had stopped him from becoming a beast. He owed her his humanity. But I don’t know what I’m doing with her anymore. She wants so much from me, but I have nothing to give. I never asked for this.
And neither did she. I should have told her that I loved her.
Garfield headed over to the gate and got going with the group, heading towards the church. He forced himself not to look back until the pier was far behind him.
POPPY
He didn’t look back once. Doesn’t he care about me?
Poppy sat atop the souvenir store where Anna lived, and stared off into the distance. She’d watched Garfield and the foragers right up until they’d become black dots on the horizon. Now they weren’t even dots anymore, they were gone.
Why didn’t he look back? Isn’t he going to miss me?
The tears in Poppy’s eyes had finally dried up, but first they’d spilled down her cheeks for close to an hour. Her cheeks were sore now and the cold was making her shiver. The rain was falling harder, but she fought against the discomfort for a while longer. She didn’t want to get down from the roof until she knew Garfield was completely out of sight and not coming back.
Anna had called to her a few times in the last hour, warning her about catching a chill, but Poppy just ignored her. The woman would just want to talk – adults always wanted to talk – but the last thing Poppy wanted right now was chitchat. I just want Garfield back, and talking won’t make that happen.
Once upon a time, Poppy had thought her p
arents were like God. They were never wrong and always had the answers to her questions. They seemed to know all the secrets of the world and were never scared of anything. Poppy was certain they’d live forever.
But then they had died.
Watching her mummy and daddy get sick and turn into monsters had shattered everything Poppy thought about the world. Her parents weren’t Gods anymore. They had become weak and smelly. Slowly, their skin turned grey and their eyes bulged. Eventually they had barricaded themselves inside their bedroom and told Poppy to wait outside for help. They said she must never try and come inside the bedroom, no matter what. Poppy had waited so long to be rescued that she thought she would spend the rest of her life in that dark, smelly house. The electricity went first. Then her food disappeared and the water flowed weaker and weaker from the taps. Poppy wondered if that meant she would die soon. Once, in desperation, she shouted out to her parents and begged them help her, but all she’d been met with was a scary growling that sounded more like two wild animals than her mummy and daddy.
In the end Poppy had started to grow poorly. She had lain down on the living room floor and listened to the silence. So far away in her dreams had she been, that when Garfield entered her home, she didn’t even notice. When she opened her eyes the big ginger-haired man was standing over her, staring down at her face curiously. He might have been there to hurt her, she knew that deep down, but somehow she didn’t care. For a long time the only thing that had bothered her was the raging hunger in her belly, but even that had gone away after a while. All she felt in the end was tired and numb and sad. She wouldn’t have minded dying. But Garfield saved me.
He had taken her away that night, fed her, re-clothed her, and talked to her; but she said not a single word back to him. He didn’t seem to mind – in fact he seemed to like her silence. He was a quiet person himself.
She didn’t speak for weeks.
Eventually, one night while they were camping inside an old garden centre surrounded by the dead, Poppy had managed to utter one single word to Garfield. She had said: “thanks.”
That time seemed so long ago now. Much had happened between then and now. She’d grown more than she thought she was supposed to in a single year; toughened up so much that her parents would probably not even recognise her anymore. She hoped they would be proud. I miss them.
Poppy could stare at the horizon no more. Looking into the distance at the last place she’d seen Garfield was making her too sad. She swivelled around on her bum and stared in the opposite direction, out towards the sea. The grey-green water kept them alive, Anna often said, and even though everyone was sick and tired of eating fish, they never failed to cast their rods out every single morning and night. They rarely failed to catch something or other. Anna said the fish were having lots more babies than they used to because there was less people eating them. I remember when there used to be lots of human babies. I wonder what happened to them all. Are they all gone, or are some of them safe? I hope so. I would like to hold a baby someday.
Maybe one day when I grow up I will hold my own.
Poppy often stared out at the sea, hoping to spot a dolphin or a whale. Garfield told her those animals didn’t live in the English Channel, because the sea was too cold, but Anna disagreed and said that they could never tell anything for sure anymore. Once the dead had not walked, but now they did. Perhaps, one day, great big whales would belly flop in the waters beyond the pier and make a new home for themselves. Poppy wanted to make sure that she didn’t miss it if it happened. Maybe I could ride away on one.
She noticed movement on the horizon. It could have been her mind playing tricks on her, though. She wanted so badly to see a whale that she might have tricked herself into believing she’d just seen one.
Sunlight bounced off the surface of the water. There was movement there for sure. Poppy edged off her bottom and shifted onto her knees. She leant forward and squinted, trying to see past the glaring morning sun and the streaks of falling rain.
What is that? Am I about to finally see a whale?
No, that’s not a whale. It’s…something else.
It took almost ten minutes before Poppy could work out what she could see growing on the horizon. Once she finally realised, her eyes stretched wide and her mouth dropped open in shock. “No flippin’ way!” she almost shouted.
Poppy leapt off the roof and went to get the others. She wore an excited grin on her face and almost wet herself. They’re not going to believe this, she thought. Never in a bazillion years.
FRANK
Frank entered the captain’s chamber and stood before his son’s desk. Samuel was reclined back in his leather chair, staring hard at the ceiling. He would often do that when there were no immediate matters at hand; just sit and think until there was. “We’ve spotted survivors off the Devonshire coast,” Frank told his adopted son. “Small village with a pier, just past Dartmouth.”
Samuel sat forward and leant across his desk. He raised one of his dark eyebrows. “Oh? How do we know there are survivors?”
“We’ve spotted people fishing from the railings.”
“Fishing? My, how very relaxed. They must be well set-up at this pier. Any sign of the cripple amongst them?”
“No. What are your orders?”
Samuel smiled as if his orders should be obvious. “I won’t have that terrorist roaming free. Send a sortie ashore to meet with these survivors. If they are the only camp in the area then there’s a good chance the cripple may have chanced upon them. We need to question them.”
“Question them?”
Samuel smiled wider, showing long white teeth. “Yes, just words. No needed for anything stronger…yet. Send Roman. Maybe this time he’ll do something useful.”
Frank’s mood worsened at the talk of Roman. “I worry about that one. He doesn’t respect you.”
“Oh, he respects me enough, father. His very presence is proof of that. He had no need to join us here, and even less to stay. There was nothing to stop him from staying in his dinghy and waiting for the next chance of rescue.”
“There would not have been any chance of another rescue.”
“Exactly. I saved that man’s life. He owes me.”
“He has a friend aboard, the man who was with him when we rescued him. I think the only reason he stays with us is because it keeps his friend safe. He’s been trying to keep the relationship secret, but petty officer Dunn informed me about it earlier today. The man’s name is Harry.”
“That just proves my point,” said Samuel. “I keep Roman’s only friend safe. Thus he has every reason to obey me.”
“But he shows you no respect.”
“Respect is for the weak, you know that. If I had shown respect to my peers I would never have made Black Remedy the greatest company on Earth. To truly thrive, a man must stand alone and tower above all lesser men. Roman will be a leader one day, if he doesn’t screw up his potential. I can make use of a born leader, but if he disappoints, then I’m sure there will be more humble uses for a man like him.”
“But if he doesn’t respect you, how can you trust him?”
Samuel folded his arms across his chest. “If you had shown respect for my dead father, you may have resisted sleeping with my mother.”
Frank spluttered. Falling for Samuel’s mother while he had been the family’s bodyguard had been a poor show of integrity, but when Samuel’s father died in a freak accident, Frank had been there to comfort her. They had grown unavoidably close. Her premature death had taken a piece of him. He’d loved no woman since. His sole devotion had been raising the son she had left behind. I just hope she’d be happy with the job I’ve done.
Samuel grinned. “It’s okay, Frank. Don’t blush. You know I forgive you. When mother died you were there for me. I will never forget that.”
Samuel’s mother had been an alcoholic. Her death had been tragic and left the boy without a parent. Frank had gladly taken the responsibility. “I’ve always wanted
the best for you, Samuel. That’s why Roman bothers me so much.”
“I trust Roman more than the whimpering fools who come before me on bent knee. I need men of action, not subservience. Believe me, father, I have a way of seeing into a man’s heart, and Roman’s is as black as my own. He seeks redemption. I intend to give him opportunity.”
Frank sighed. Reading into his adopted son’s intentions was a folly he’d ceased pursuing long ago. As much as Samuel spoke in riddles, it could never be said that he did not understand the men around him. He knew every weakness, flaw, and vulnerability of every man he ever crossed, often within minutes of meeting him. That was just one of the many reasons Samuel had nigh on controlled the economic world via his megalithic Black Remedy Corporation – a company started by Samuel’s father and American business partner, Vincent Black. Both were long dead.
And now Samuel commands probably the largest group of survivors left on the planet. He was made for leadership and power, but now, instead of a company, he owns a burgeoning nation on the sea. It’s a lot of influence for such a young man.
“Father, you are over-thinking. I can always tell because another of the hairs on your head goes grey. You are aging quicker than I would like. I’m rather fond of having you around, so please don’t grow too old on me.”
Frank nodded. He felt older than he would have liked, that much was true. The end of the world had been a weary ordeal, and even from the safety of the Kirkland he’d witnessed more bloodshed than he ever thought possible. He himself had partaken in the initial culling of the infected brought on-board. God forgive me.
Taking in groups of survivors had been a perilous task and many came to the Kirkland with bites and scratches. Frank had hurried them away hastily under the guise of medical attention, but had shot them in the head at the rear of the ship before dumping them overboard. The other survivors knew it was happening, but they said nothing. Survival of the fittest and selfish denial were the only traits that mattered anymore – in fact they were probably the only traits that had ever mattered. They were just less well hidden now that society had crumbled.
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