Outside - a post-apocalyptic novel

by Shalini Boland

  ‘So what has all this got to do with our Lissy and Freddie?’ asks Jessie. ‘Unless you think they may be with this Grey character.’

  ‘We only know about him though rumours,’ I interject. ‘My Pa always put the fear of God into us about Grey. He said if we ever set foot outside the Perimeter we could be snatched. He's like the bogeyman, or something.’

  Luc continues. ‘My uncle saw someone when he was in there. It was a girl, who’d gone missing from a local compound. She just disappeared, like your children. And then, a month later, my uncle recognised her in Grey’s courtyard. He managed to smuggle her out and I'm not sure of all the details, but she had definitely been abducted. She said there were hundreds of other children who’d been taken or lured in, now trapped or brainwashed. And anyway, over the past few years, there have been too many unexplained disappearances of children.

  ‘I don't know what to think,’ says Jessie slowly. ‘It's a possibility, but then again, it could just as likely be raiders that took them, or ...’ She starts to cry again.

  ‘Jess, darlin', don't cry.’ Fred wipes her tears.

  ‘I know we don't have any concrete evidence, but it makes more sense that it’s Grey,’ I say. ‘Raiders want food, weapons or valuables, not more mouths to feed. Grey isn’t trusting; he turns people away from his gates. But he’s got hundreds of followers and they’re mostly children or young adults. Children are easier to brainwash and train up to be loyal to him and his religion.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Luc interjects gently, ‘we've told you what we know about Grey and I don't know if we've made you feel better or worse, but maybe there's some hope for you that ...’

  ‘That what?’ Fred interrupts. ‘That we can march up to Grey's house and say, 'excuse me, Sir, but have you got our kids? We think you might have took 'em without asking and we'd like 'em back’.’

  ‘I don't know,’ says Luc. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh Go-o-od!’ says Jessie, exhaling loudly. ‘This is just too much. I can't deal with this now. I can't think anymore. Thank you Luc, Riley, for what you've told us, but I can't listen to any more.’ She trembles as she stands up and makes a move to clear the table.

  ‘Just leave them dinner things, Jess.’ Fred gives us a hard look. ‘No offence, kids, but would you mind going upstairs and leaving me and Jess to talk. We'll see yer in the morning.’

  We stand up awkwardly and say goodnight, not really knowing if we should say anything more to ease the situation. But Fred wants us gone. As we walk up the stairs, Luc gives me a look I can't decipher, but I know he’s not happy with me.

  ‘You shouldn't have mentioned Grey,’ he whispers. ‘You've put us in a difficult position and we've just given them false hope. Even if Grey has got their kids, there's nothing they can do about it.’

  ‘I'm sorry,’ I retort. ‘But they do have a right to know all the possibilities.’

  His jaw clenches tight and he goes into his room, closing the door without saying goodnight. I knew he was annoyed with me, but I hadn't realised just how much. To make matters worse, the rooms we’re going to sleep in tonight are Lissy and Freddie's bedrooms. When Jessie showed us to our rooms earlier, we hadn't known their children were missing. We just assumed they had moved out or were with friends. Now I know the truth, I’m horrified that we have to sleep in their bedrooms.

  My room is immaculate, but looks exactly as it must have been nine years ago. It’s a seven-year-old girl’s bedroom, with cuddly toys, dolls and pretty things. A pink and mauve delight that makes me sad. I look out of the window into the black night, the darkness relieved by starry pinpricks and a sliver of moon. I close the fairy curtains and lie on top of the covers, thinking of Luc in the next room, of Fred and Jessie’s lost daughter and of my Skye.

  *

  We spend the following morning helping Fred and Jessie with their chores around the house and farm. I get stuck in, pleased for the distraction the physical work provides.

  ‘There's always too much to do,’ says Jessie. ‘It’s amazing how much more we can get done with you here. Thank you.’

  They haven't mentioned last night's conversation at all and I don’t feel it’s my place to bring it up. An awkward feeling hovers in the air between Luc and me and between us and our hosts. Luc and I agree we should probably head off soon. In the cold light of morning, I feel as if I’ve made a huge error in judgement by telling this sweet couple what we know. Luc was right, we shouldn't have said anything, but me and my big mouth just had to have the last word.

  Jessie looks pale and tired and Fred is cordial, but tight lipped. I know I’ve opened old wounds. Did I genuinely think I was doing something good? Or was I just excited at the thought of giving them the news that could lead to a dramatic reunion with their children?

  They ask us to join them for a sandwich in the kitchen and we politely follow them in. The easy good humour from yesterday has completely gone. We all sit down around the Formica table, not knowing what to say. After a long minute of silent chewing, Fred clears his throat.

  ‘Jess and I didn't get much sleep last night, as you can imagine.’

  ‘We're so sorry,’ Luc apologises. ‘We were insensitive and thoughtless.’

  I take this as a direct insult, as it was me who had wanted to tell them.

  Fred raises his hand to quiet Luc. ‘Let me finish, lad.’

  Luc and I cast our eyes downward while Fred continues.

  ‘We're grateful you told us about Grey. It's a lot to take in for us. We really never expected to hear anything about our children again. We'd sorta said goodbye to them a few years ago, you know, in our heads. Your revelation has changed everything. We had no leads before, nothing to go on, no help; they could have been anywhere. But now, well. We can't go on as before, not if there's the smallest possibility they could be alive; if there's a chance they're there. We have to try. We have to.’

  Jessie is staring at me and Luc. ‘We need your help,’ she says. ‘We could try by ourselves, but we'd have more of a chance if you would tell us how we could get in there. We wouldn't expect you to put yourselves in any danger, but if you could just help us to formulate a plan. Advise us how to go about it. You know about the place.’

  ‘We'll do anything we can to help you,’ I say. ‘Of course we will.’

  ‘Hold on, Riley,’ Luc says. ‘Of course we would love to help you, but there's nothing we can do.’

  ‘Luc …’ I start to reason with him.

  ‘No, Riley, he snaps. ‘This isn't fixable. None of this is fixable. Not finding abducted children or bringing in escaped murderers and not bringing Skye back to life!’

  I raise my eyes to look at Fred and Jessie, who return my look of shock. I've never seen Luc like this. I've seen him irritated and annoyed, and after Skye, I saw him sad beyond measure, but this anger is an entirely different Luc. He’s biting his lip and shaking with emotion. I can see he hadn’t meant to blurt out our business like that.

  ‘I don't even wanna ask,’ says Fred.

  ‘This is all a mess,’ sighs Luc, his rage dissipating as quickly as it flared up. ‘The whole thing is just completely screwed up. Riley, we must be mad to be doing any of this.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Luc,’ I say.

  ‘Not your fault.’

  We’ve got no choice but to tell them what Luc and I are doing. It would feel wrong not to say anything. We tell them a watered-down version of our story, starting with Skye's murder, but leaving out the part about not having our parents' permission. Jessie now looks even more stricken than before, if that’s possible.

  ‘What kind of world are we living in? Riley, I'm so sorry about your sister, you poor, poor girl. And there's us, trying to rope you into our affairs, when you've obviously got so much on your plate.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Fred echoes. ‘Looks like we're not the only ones suffering.’

  We all sit quietly, lost in our own thoughts for what feels like a long time.

  ‘Okay,’ Luc breaks the silence. ‘
I'm definitely going to regret this, but Riley's right.’ He looks at me with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and then turns his gaze back to the couple. ‘We should help you. You've both been so kind to us and we're here now, on the road. There's no going back for Riley and me.’

  ‘Luc,’ I smile at him. He looks at me but doesn't return the smile this time.

  ‘Riley,’ he says with forced patience. ‘We'll do this, but everyone will have to do exactly what I say. No questions, no hesitation or doubts. If we do this, it's serious and we’ll do it my way.’

  ‘Luc, lad,’ says Fred. ‘Just give us some information and we'll do the rest. We can't ask you to put yourselves in danger for us. It's not right, you're kids yourselves.’

  ‘Fred, no offence, but you’ve got no chance of doing this without us. The very fact we’re kids is what's going to make this plan work.’

  ‘I hope you're not suggesting what I think you are.’ Fred is worried and so am I. I’m just starting to realise what Luc's plan is going to involve.

  It’s all very well, us telling them about Grey and our theories on all the missing children, but now we have to actually do something about it and that’s the scary part. We’ve never been to Salisbury before. We’ve only heard of Grey through Luc's uncle. Of course we have to help them, but what are we going to do about Chambers and our own search for answers?

  Our parents will now be frantic with worry and every day we delay our search, means more stress for our families. But it’s too late for us to think about that now. We’ve made our choice and have to follow it through. We’ve got a moral obligation to help these people and, besides, I like them and want more than anything for them to find their children.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Riley

  *

  Luc and I are standing outside the walls of Salisbury Cathedral. We’re on foot and we’ve dressed to make ourselves look as young and vulnerable as possible in scruffy, stained t shirts and shorts. I’m wearing no makeup with my hair pulled back in a ponytail. This morning, Luc shaved his fine stubble with Fred's cut throat razor until his skin was peachy soft. We’re unarmed and carry no bags or possessions.

  We knocked and shouted several times with no response from the main gates and so we followed the high wall along for about three hundred yards. Now we’ve arrived at a small wooden door with thick metal studs. I’m hesitating, but Luc bangs on it twice with his fist. Almost instantly, a woman opens it.

  She’s small and pretty with shoulder-length dark blonde hair. She doesn't look anything like the dark-robed religious zealots I had imagined. In fact, the only religious-looking thing about her is the small gold cross hanging neatly around her neck, nestling below her collar bone just above her pastel blue shirt. I’m guessing she’s in her thirties and she has an open friendly face.

  Luc and I had psyched ourselves up so much for this moment that I’m quite taken aback to be greeted with such courtesy and lack of security.

  ‘Come in,’ she says. ‘The road's not a good place to be these days. Would you like a drink?’

  We step through the small wooden door in the wall and glance around. There’s no security that I can see and we’re in a small beautiful courtyard, fragrant with flowers and herbs. She motions us towards a wrought iron patio set and we sit down.

  ‘Be back in a minute,’ she smiles. ‘Lemonade okay?’

  We nod and watch as she goes through a little half-glazed door in the side of a red brick house that looks several hundred years old.

  ‘This is odd,’ I whisper to Luc.

  ‘Not really,’ he replies. ‘Think about it. If you want to recruit children or young adults, heavy security isn't going to make them want to stay. Grey’s a smart man. He'll try the carrot approach first. This first impression will look like paradise to most kids used to living rough on the outside. You can guarantee if we were anything other than two defenceless kids at the gate, we'd have got a very different welcome.’

  The door creaks open and the woman comes back out carrying a tray with a jug of lemonade, three glasses and a plate of biscuits. A large ginger tom cat runs out of the door with her and scampers across to where we’re sitting. He purrs loudly and winds himself around our legs, his nose in the air, asking to be petted.

  ‘Don't mind Tigger,’ says the woman. ‘Shoo him away if he bothers you. He just loves company.’ She sits down and pours out the cloudy lemonade.

  ‘No,’ I reply. ‘He's lovely, really friendly.’ I reach down to stroke the cat.

  ‘Help yourselves to biscuits.’ She gestures to the plate and Luc and I take one each. They’re obviously really delicious, but nerves stifle the taste and my dry mouth makes it feel like crumbly cement on my tongue. I reach for my glass and swallow a mouthful of the sharp acidic drink.

  ‘It's all homemade,’ says the woman. ‘I'm Rebecca.’

  ‘Luc.’

  ‘Riley.’ I cough. We decided earlier that we didn't need to change our first names, as nobody would know who we are anyway.

  ‘We're sorry to bother you,’ says Luc. ‘But we’ve got nowhere to go and we saw your gate and we're so hungry and thirsty. It's really kind of you.’

  ‘It's no bother,’ Rebecca smiles. ‘Relax. Enjoy your drinks. You don't have to rush off on account of me. I have work to do anyway. I'll be in here if you need me.’ She points back to the door she’s just come through. ‘Please stay as long as you like.’ She swigs down the last of her lemonade and goes back into the house.

  We wait a few minutes. All I can hear is Tigger's insistent purring, the breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees and a distant hammering sound of metal on metal. It’s a warm afternoon, still early and the sun’s high in the sky. Things aren’t quite back to normal between me and Luc. I don’t know if he’s still mad at me, but now’s not the time to have that discussion.

  He stands up and walks around the small courtyard. It’s got a high wall and looks like it’s part of a private residence. If you didn't know any better, you would never guess it belongs to the Cathedral Close. There’s a jumble of pots and troughs containing flowers and herbs. Ivy clings to the walls of the house and creeps around the dark blank windows. A couple of wasps buzz sleepily around us and a line of ants stream across the cracked terracotta flagstones.

  Now that we’re inside the walls, there’s no going back. Luc stares up at the house, as if attempting to unravel its secrets and I try hard not to think about what we’re doing. Luc told me my only task is to locate Lissy and try to keep her close to me. He’s going to do the rest.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Eleanor

  *

  Suddenly, the speed at which worldwide events unfolded was like someone had pressed a fast-forward button, spooling us crazily towards a too-scary ending. The attacks hadn’t stopped and no one knew if they were carried out by the same networks, or if new terror groups around the world were taking advantage of the confusion.

  Three weeks later at four in the morning, an army convoy of trucks rolled through our sleepy village on their way to assist with all the border closures being put into effect. But not all the vehicles kept on rolling.

  One camouflage truck stopped at the end of our lane and a small unit of soldiers silently jogged up the pavement towards our house. Samuel was among them.

  Crisis point had been reached and so all traditional military protocol had been abandoned. NCOs and Privates had been automatically upgraded to make way for the newly enlisted. Nothing familiar could be relied upon and personal freedom was now a thing of the past.

  The military unit came into our house. They told my parents they wanted Connor. My parents told the officer in charge that Connor wasn't in the house, but they didn't believe us and searched each room.

  We remonstrated with the soldiers. Sleep was misting up my brain but outrage woke me up. I followed one of the soldiers into my room, asking him what he thought he was doing. I wanted to run to Connor’s camper van and warn him, but I knew that to
do so would be to reveal his whereabouts. It was too late anyway. Connor had heard the commotion and had opened the shiny red door to his van.

  I stared out of my bedroom window as he stood there in his boxer shorts, confused and sleepy. He pulled an old grey t shirt over his head. One of the soldiers outside shouted to the others. They poured out of the house. Connor looked small and alone, squinting downwards and he shielded his eyes with his arm, as they shone a torch over him. They took him away immediately, with no regard for his dignity or comfort.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I screamed from my bedroom window and ran, almost falling downstairs. My brothers shouted at them and my parents tried to calm us all down. ‘What’s going on? Why have they got you, Connor?’ I ran across the front lawn towards him in my bare feet. Two fresh-faced soldiers barred my way, unmoved by my tears.

  I saw Samuel and my hopes soared. ‘Sam!’ I shouted. ‘Why have they got Connor? Tell them! Tell them they’ve got the wrong person!’

  But he refused to catch my eye and didn’t say a word. It hit me then with a bitter punch. I couldn’t believe it, but I knew the truth.

  ‘You bastard!’ I wanted to bite and scratch and kick and hit him until there was nothing left. ‘You did this! Connor has done nothing! Nothing. Why would you do such an evil thing?’

  It was clear to me then, that this was all Samuel’s doing. He had gotten Connor arrested under some false pretence. I could only pray and hope they would find no evidence to back it up. That Samuel was only trying to scare him and would release him soon. My father spoke to two of the soldiers, but they wouldn’t give him any reason for the arrest. They took Connor’s camper van and drove it away. My brothers picked me up off the dew-sodden lawn and carried me back into the house.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Riley