by Ryan Casey
Her little earlobe, one of them missing an earring.
I crouched down right beside her and watched her sleep. I wanted to wake her up. I wanted to tell her I was going, but that I wouldn’t be long. That I’d be back soon.
But truth be told, I wasn’t sure I could do that.
I didn’t know if that was true. And I could never lie to Olivia. Ever.
Another part of me, as I crouched there, hoped that Olivia would wake up of her own accord. I wanted to say goodbye to her, and yet at the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to do such a thing. It seemed so cruel that, after all the times I’d spent trying to get her back, trying to make sure she was safe, I was the one choosing to walk away from her all over again.
But it was for Kerry. It was for Olivia’s mum.
That was something worth fighting for.
I swallowed a lump in my throat and went to touch Olivia’s skin. I could feel the warmth radiating from her cheek as I held my hand just over it, listening to the slow crackle of her breathing, smelling her sweet breath. I wanted to touch her face; to kiss her on the forehead. To feel her warmth.
But I couldn’t wake her up.
“I’ll be back for you,” I whispered, my throat giving way as I spoke the final words. “I promise I’ll be back for you.”
I waited for Olivia to wake up.
She didn’t even turn.
I stood up then and wiped the tears from my clouded eyes. I walked slowly back towards the door. I didn’t want to look at my daughter again because looking at her just made the decision all the more painful; it made me relive what I had to do, where I was going, all over again.
But I was Olivia’s father, so of course I turned around and looked at her once more.
I thought I saw her eyes look back at me. I thought I saw her smile. I thought I heard her tell me not to go.
But she was still fast asleep. Her eyes were closed. She hadn’t said a word.
She looked beautiful in the moonlight.
I wiped the tears away again, and I turned around, gently closing her door.
“Goodbye, pumpkin. I love you.”
When I closed the door, I felt like my whole world was splitting in two.
But it was a decision I had to make.
I STEPPED outside the barracks and walked towards the gates.
I was on my own, completely. But I’d packed a bag with a few supplies that I knew would get me by. I had some drinking water, three litres worth, some water purification tablets, which were in desperately short supply these days. As for food and food prep, I had a portable stove, some stove fuel, and a few protein bars that had been lying around in there for ages. I had a spare change of underwear, some tinder, and a first aid kit, as well as some wet napkins and travel toilet paper. I also had my Becker BK-2 knife, which was my prized possession, as well as a multi-tool. There were some other things I knew were in there, too. I knew what I was doing. And I knew I’d realistically a few days of walking to get to York from Dumfries. It was about one-hundred and fifty miles away. Sadly, the cars that Danny had within his ranks had all stopped working. It was mysterious. Made me wonder whether the EMPs were still pulsing the planet. Couldn’t be too sure, only I had to adapt to the new situation.
It didn’t bother me, particularly. I preferred the idea of walking. It made me less noticeable. And I was adept at surviving out there. I knew what I was doing.
I walked further away from the barracks. But when I got closer to the gate, I heard barking behind me.
I turned around and saw Bouncer pounding towards me. Somehow, he’d managed to get out of my room, found his way down the stairs and now was outside with me. Damn, and they say Labradors are intelligent.
“Bouncer,” I said.
I crouched down as he jumped up at me, almost in a hug. He was wheezing, whimpering a little like he was sad because he knew what was happening.
I pulled him close and ruffled his fur, unable to stop the tears I’d cried over my daughter from flowing over my dog, too. “It’s okay, lad. I’m not going far. I won’t be long.”
I tried to step away, but Bouncer just walked right after me.
“Go back, boy. Go on.”
But Bouncer wasn’t going anywhere.
He was right by my side, whether I wanted him here or not.
And I guess I did want him here.
I stared at him for a few seconds before leaning down beside him and stroking him again. “Come here, you.”
We hugged again for a short while. And this time, as I held onto Bouncer, I felt stronger. I felt more certain and more positive about what I was going to do. It wasn’t going to be easy. Hell, it might be damn near impossible.
But I was going to do it. I was going to succeed.
I was going to find Kerry.
I stood up and took a deep breath. Bouncer stepped up beside me. Together, we looked toward the barracks gates, standing there in the dark of night, lit only by the light of the moon and the stars above.
“We’re going to find you, Kerry,” I mumbled. “We’re going to find you.”
I went to take a first step when I thought of Kesha.
I felt guilty walking away from her. But she’d made her choice. She’d look after Olivia; there was no doubting that.
So I blotted her from my mind—blotted everything that might hold me back from my mind—and I took that first step, my dog by my side.
We were going back into the unknown.
Back to where we began.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Watching the sun rise outside of the safety and security of the barracks wasn’t quite as romantic and pretty as I remembered.
It was cold as shit, for one. Since waking up in the early hours to leave the barracks, I hadn’t slept a wink. And in truth, I hadn’t slept at all last night, either. I’d been too focused on the task at hand, figuring out in my mind whether it was worth it, and whether I was doing the right thing.
And as I walked now, the trees all tall around me, leaves crunching under my feet, I questioned again whether I’d made the right decision to take this journey. After all, I’d left my daughter behind.
But then I remembered why I was doing this. I was doing it because I had a chance of bringing my entire family together again. That wasn’t an opportunity I could just pass up. Not when I had a daughter to look after.
I was doing this for her as much as I was doing this for myself.
I kept on telling myself that…
I looked down at the map in front of me. I knew I was heading east because of the blinding sun that’d risen in front of me. I needed to make a more southward trajectory if I wanted to get to York. I knew I must be near the hills of the Pennines right now, and soon, the forest and trees around me would subside, and I’d find myself in a barren, alien landscape.
The journey wasn’t going to be an easy one. It was going to take more than two days, for sure. I had to make sure I was ready for everything that was coming my way.
Luckily, I knew a trick or two. Especially a trick or two about survival, and about hunting.
I reached into my bag—which was packed with things I’d kept, and things I’d stolen, admittedly, from the barracks. There were medical supplies. There were things I could cook with. There were general things like clothing, snacks, stuff like that.
I was more interested in the thing I had in the bottom of the bag right now.
I reached into the bag, a proud smile on my face. I’d tried creating a bow in the past, but I’d found it way too difficult. You had to find exactly the right kind of wood and hone the perfect level of string. But once you had a bow, you had a really solid hunting tool in your hands.
It’d taken me a while to craft this bow. Admittedly, I’d spread out the making of it over a few days, distracted by one thing or another.
But here it was.
Only the string had snapped. The wood was dangling in two.
Someone had broken it.
Some ba
stard had broken it.
I saw Bouncer looking up at me. He was pulling that puppy dog look at me. And suddenly, I could see a sequence of events playing out in my mind.
Bouncer had thought it was a stick or a toy.
He’d started playing with it, and he’d wrecked it.
Olivia must’ve put it in my bag in the hope that I wouldn’t notice it—because as far as she was concerned, there was no need for me to go into this bag anymore, not now we had someplace safe.
Bless her.
I sighed and shook my head. “Bloody hell, lad. You trying to get us both killed?”
Bouncer didn’t say anything. Of course. He was a dog, after all, and dogs were hardly the chattiest of characters, at least not in our language anyway.
“Never mind,” I said, tossing the bow back into the rucksack. “Sure we’ll find something else to put together.”
I decided then to salvage supplies to make another bow and arrow. First step was choosing a straight branch, around five feet in length. Then, stand the branch on end, identifying the middle of the stave. You use a knife to carefully cut away that area, the side facing slightly thinner than the rest of it. Then, you cut a notch onto each tip. I used some paracord from my pack to create a cord, and then I moved on to constructing arrows, which was staggeringly easy. I just found a few more straight branches, scraped away the bark, cut it to a suitable length to fit the draw of the bow, sharpening one end to a point.
When it was done, I sat back, a smile on my face. I couldn’t help feeling proud of what I’d made. If anything, it was better than the one I’d made back at camp.
I felt a few specks of rain, and then nothing. Like the skies were threatening, reminding me that nature was out there and ready to piss on my parade at any given time, without fully going all the way.
I reached into the rucksack then and took out a protein bar.
When I put it to my lips, I caught sight of the green mould on the bar, and my stomach turned.
“Shit,” I said.
I looked at the bar. It was mouldy. Mostly because the bottom of the wrapper had been opened. There were ants dripping from it.
Bouncer didn’t look too fazed, so I gave it to him.
I reached into the rucksack for the box of protein bars. Must’ve just been a duff one. Must’ve just been…
When I saw the box, my stomach dropped.
The box was covered in ants. The wrappers of some of the bars were still in the box, and some had been partly torn away.
It looked like someone had been in my snacks, again, not expecting I’d need them anytime soon.
“Bouncer,” I muttered.
I put the rucksack down on the ground and leaned back. For the first time in hours, I closed my eyes.
I might’ve made a decent bow. I might’ve crafted some neat arrows. But if I thought this journey was going to be easy, I was mistaken.
Very mistaken.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Later that day, I decided to try my hand at fishing.
It’d been a while since I’d fished. But on my way through the Pennines, I found a decent trout farm and fishery, no doubt somewhere that was fairly busy before the world went tits up. The weather was decent. The storm that had threatened itself—and which I didn’t know would return in the very near future with a force that would threaten to derail my entire journey—had receded. I’d made good progress, walking through the hills. I hadn’t bumped into anyone, really. I thought I’d seen people in the distance, sitting outside a cabin, but they soon disappeared when they saw a sign of life—if they’d really been there at all. Sometimes, I found it hard to distinguish reality from fiction in this lonely, barren world.
I sat by the side of the lake. There were a few cars parked here. So out of habit, I’d been sure to check the clubhouse before getting started. I knew the cars had probably been abandoned here when the blackout first happened. But if the people here—fishermen, nonetheless—had been wise, they’d have caught as many of these fish as possible and taken them with them on their journey.
As it stood, there were plenty of fish in this lake. They really hadn’t expected the power to be out as long as it was. And by the time they’d walked out of this place … well, who knows what might’ve happened to them.
I had seen something totally disheartening on my way here. I’d come across a load of metal scattered across the landscape. At first, I didn’t know what it was. Then it soon dawned on me that it was a fallen plane.
So many planes must’ve fallen from the sky when the EMP strikes first hit. I’d walked through the remains of that plane and grabbed what I could from the skeletons. A few blankets. Some trainers that just about fit. A pair of reading glasses, ’cause you never know when you might need them. But gathering supplies from the dead felt so wrong, no matter how immoral this world was full stop now.
I’d been glad to get away from it, and I was glad to be here now.
Now, I just had to catch myself a fish, and tonight’s dinner was served. Unless I fancied some mouldy protein bars. Which, of course, I didn’t.
There were a few ways to catch fish that I knew about, some which I’d known a while, others which I’d learned from other people since the blackout. One way was to set a control line using a parachute cord, attaching it across a shallow section of the water to two opposite trees. That way, the fish will swim right into its path when bait is attached. This was probably the best method, in truth, although it was more effective in rivers. If you found a narrow section of a river, you could keep fish funnelled into the path of the fish hooks, go off and do whatever you wanted—so you were out of the way of the fish—and passively expect to catch some fish. Again, simple. But much easier in a river.
There were other ways, too, again more appropriate for rivers. Fish screens, walls, and nets were all useful. But right now, I didn’t need any of those methods because the fish in this lake seemed… well, tame. They floated right up to me when I got to them like they were expecting to be fed, or something, which I found weird.
I lifted my hand closer to the trout and readied myself to plunge for it.
I threw my opened fist at it.
The fish splashed away before I could grab it.
I gritted my teeth. “Shit.” This wasn’t going to be easy. I looked at Bouncer. “Don’t you sit there staring at me. You can catch your own.”
Bouncer didn’t look impressed.
I waited again for the fish to approach the edge of the lake. They were probably weak, in truth. They would’ve been feeding on the natural resources, but being in a fishing lake, they were probably used to being fed extra to make them more used to human contact.
I kept on waiting, kept on hoping. My stomach was rumbling now, and I was more than ready for some tasty trout. Part of me wished I was in the middle of Canada, fishing for salmon, my favourite fish. Then again, there were no bears in Britain, so that definitely had the advantage there.
I saw a fish move into my eyeline. I kept as still as possible, holding my breath.
Come on. Please. Just come on…
It floated slowly right under my fingers.
I held my breath.
Kept my composure.
Counted down from three.
Two.
One…
When I plummeted my hand into the water, I knew it was a good move right away.
I felt the fish wriggling between my fingers. It was so wriggly—and I was so amazed I’d caught one—that I almost let the little bugger slip from between my fingers.
But I managed to restore my composure.
I pulled the trout out of the water. Saw its poor little helpless mouth moving like it was begging me to put it out of its misery rather than back into the depths below.
I imagined the taste of its luscious flesh, Bouncer drooling by my side, and I went to lay the fish down to chop off its head.
Then I saw someone over by the cabin.
I wasn’t alone.
> CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I looked across the fishing lake, over at the clubhouse, at the man standing there staring at me.
He looked just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. He was short and very skinny. He was wearing walking boots, which were completely caked in mud. He had a black rucksack on his back, which looked like it’d altered his posture. He didn’t look all that sure about himself. But one way or another, he’d figured out a way to survive. That was something in this world.
I didn’t know what to say or what to do. I could just feel the trout wriggling around in my hand, living out its final moments. Bouncer was by my side, looking over at the man. He started to growl. Good boy. Make us look as intimidating as possible. Always a good idea when dealing with strangers.
“Hi,” the man said.
I wasn’t expecting him to speak. And I especially wasn’t expecting him to sound so calm.
He walked away from the clubhouse in my direction.
I reached for my knife.
“Wait,” the man said, raising his hand. His breath clouded in front of him when he spoke. “I don’t wanna cause any harm here. I just—”
“Keep your distance,” I said. I lifted the knife. It was all I knew how to do.
The man stopped then. I saw that he was perhaps younger than I’d first thought, in his twenties maybe. But, like most people, he’d been worn down by a harsh world. He half-smiled and nodded like he understood where I was coming from. “You’re reluctant to trust anyone. That’s fine. I get that. I know how it is. I’ll stand right here while we talk. I won’t come a step closer, don’t worry. You can trust me.”
You can trust me.
Those four words just made me doubt this man even more.
“Nice dog you’ve got there. What’re they called?”
I didn’t say anything in response. The man didn’t seem to mind.
“Look, my name’s Alex. And you?”
Again, I didn’t respond.
He chuckled a little, then pulled his rucksack off his back and rested it down beneath him. He sat on it, wincing like he had some kind of back problem. “It’s a nice lake. Imagine there’ll be plenty of fish around here. Just a pity I’m so shitty at catching them. You don’t look like you’ve had any problems there, though, huh?”