With the papers thrown down to one side and his head leant back against the wall, the memories of last night started to creep back into the forefront of Tariq’s thoughts. At first, he remembered the spectacle of it all. The lights flashing across the sky, the amber glow illuminating the trees and the thin tendrils rising out of the mass of flames dancing up, appearing to lick at the low, overcast clouds above. His thoughts roamed further back to his impression at the time of the town just over the trees. He visualised the flames encapsulating buildings that stood alone with rubble from nearby explosions leaning up against their foundations. Flames flicking through smashed windows. He visualised the house that he had resided in during his short time there. With the bay windows smashed out into the front garden, Tariq’s image positioned him from the sick-bed sofa that he spent almost twenty-fours restricted to. In his mind’s eye, he watched his false memory play over and over, progressing little by little as he imagined himself amid it all. He saw the flames flowing outwards from that living room catching fervour as they reached the new source of oxygen outside the building.
Memory and imagination continued to entwine themselves as the masked faces he saw looking in at him – while he was still sick and in shock – and the flames blew out into their faces. The faces never reeled from the heat, though he imagined their fabric masks burning and melting away, carried away by the heat rushing over the jagged shards of glass that remained. He carried the wild imaginings along until he was on the outside looking back in. He imagined the town’s ring leader staring back at him from the doorway of Anton’s house and he imagined the satisfaction of kicking the man back into the burning building. As he imagined this, his real memory of arriving at the house overlapped and as the man fell backwards, engulfed in flames, Anton stood behind with his broad welcoming smile splitting his face, his skin peeling from the heat that surrounded him.
Tariq shook himself free of the thoughts and focussed on the bends of a tree branch in front of him. He concentrated all his attention on the ridges and valleys that the bark created along its aged growth. He needed to be free of his mind. He needed distraction before the true realisation that Anton, who had put him up when he most needed it, was dead. Tariq’s heart sank with his head. He wrapped his arms around it to try and fight off the emotion. “It’s too much. It’s too much,” Tariq mumbled into his knees. He tried to fight off welling tears, not through fear of showing weakness – with no-one around for miles – but to fight off the reality. If he cried, then he knew it was real. “It’s too much. Too fucking much,” he bellowed out.
Chapter 24
Mina almost turned home again at the mere sight of the village as it now stood. It stood nowhere near as high as it had done just a few days ago. Mina fought her instincts in order to stay rooted to the spot. She was as eager to run as she was unable to move. Her head spun as she tried to take in the new view, as alien as it was. She felt as though she had walked the wrong way and ended up at a new village at the end of a valley that wasn’t hers. To her left, the sight was still familiar down the winding road away from village and it grounded her. The road was pitted and potholed more than it used to be, but the lights didn’t line it and it avoided the fall of bombs by that alone. She did not truly believe she would have this sight before her when she left, a sceptical part of her mind wouldn’t allow the images to truly form in her mind’s eye and even looking at it now, she lacked the ability to accept the image as real.
She edged forward, she could feel her ears trying to turn to every sound. Someone must still be here. The people she knew must still be alive, whether they had holed up in basements or fled in the night. She realised the knowledge that they were safe was merely hope. The hope welled up in her and urged her forward, step by reluctant step.
She trod delicately to allow her to listen out in all directions, but only the wind rushing past her ears came back so she had to carefully angle her head to avoid it. It was loud in comparison to the silence that filled the air, although it could barely be considered a breeze. The buildings were sprawled out over their footsteps as if pressed down by a giant foot that crushed the spine of the building as it came down. Further on, more and more rubble had been flung into the road. Her vision played tricks on her, blurring lines together and creating a faint haze in front of her eyes. In the distance, she found it difficult to determine where the square had once stood clear.
A noise rode the rubble and reached Mina’s ears on the wind. As soon as it was noticed, Mina wondered how she hadn’t heard it already. It was the distinct noise of pain and it rooted her to the spot suddenly. She almost lost the sound to that of her blood rushing and pounding through her ears, but when she refocused on it again she could tell it was close ahead. She turned her head slowly to pinpoint its origin as she took deliberate steps forward, the sound filled her with anguish and made her muscles tighten along with its oscillating volume. Shards of a red plastic door lay sprawled out from the skeleton of a doorway like blood spotted sick from an open mouth and she honed in. Once she was sure of the direction, she walked with more conviction, though still tentatively roaming her eyes around for any signs of life or danger.
Facing the doorway, Mina stopped again. The pain-filled sound ebbed and flowed. Mina, scared, scoured her mind for a sound that matched it in her memory, but nothing came. Images swept her mind’s eye of animals slowly facing death, rummaging through decimated cupboards for food or finding a new home in the remains that humans had once again left free for habitation. The view inside was so different from what she could imagine that it took her almost a minute for it to compute. Her brain felt as though shaken and rearranged like a dog’s beloved rope toy.
A croak, indeterminable, then, “Mina”. With that single recognisable word, the haze of dark colours resolved itself into the image of what she was seeing. Grace.
She knew that under the mountains of rubble lining the streets were countless bodies bearing faces that she would have once recognised – and maybe still would have – but she had been drawn down and found herself a solitary living person. A solitary living person in need of help, but a person who had just had that help stumble through the archway with broken hinges.
“Mina, please help,” Grace croaked and coughed, attempting to lift herself onto her elbows, but unable to twist the right way to manage it.
Mina snapped back to life. She was the help. She was possibly the only person that could get her friend what she needed. “Grace,” Mina said dryly through her contracted throat. She intended to say so much more, but nothing audible would form on her lips.
“I need to get free, you have to help.”
Mina, now adjusted to the darkness from the rough covering of rubble that covered the area, could now see that Grace had one leg covered by the remnants of a heavy oak book case that poked out from under the parts of ceiling, wood and brick that must have come down at the same time. “I’m here, Grace, don’t worry,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. Mina rushed to one knee to see if she could lift it up herself, but her fingers and back were the only thing to succumb to the motion and she let go quickly to straighten her spine. “It’s not moving like this, let me think. You need water. Let me see what I can find that will help.” Mina stroked Grace’s hair to soothe herself as much as her friend.
Grace’s voice burned her with intensity, “Don’t leave now, Mina. Wait.”
“I will not be able to free you if I don’t go. I promise above anything else left in this forsaken world that I will return. I just need something to lever this off you and you can slide back. I will be quick, just a few moments.”
“Mina, I am so glad you found me, I thought I was going to die here.” Tears started to roll down the sides of her face, “I was so sure I would die, Mina.” Mina’s cheek also felt a tear streak down it.
“Well you are not now. Just stay here a moment.” Mina stepped over some of the debris towards the doorway, then turned back to Grace. “Sorry.” She made sure not to touc
h anything on the way out through a fear that a small knock would bring down the remnants of the building.
Mina stood tall and scanned the buildings on the other side of the road. She just needed anything long and strong enough to lift the weight that lay atop Grace. She noticed the glint of some metal and jogged straight across to it. The handle of some gardening tool lay out into the path, predominantly covered in a mortared brick wall that had come down on top of it and the rest covered in the brown dust that seemed to cover everything else in view. She grabbed it with both hands and the shovel slid out easily enough to surprise her and almost send her falling backwards.
Behind her, the sounds of her friend’s pain and crying took another rise. “It hurts so much, Mina, please still be there.” The words followed by an agonised scream. Clearly the shock of seeing another person, giving her hope was already wearing off now that she was out of sight.
Mina called out words of reassurance as she lugged the heavy shovel back to Grace’s home. She continued shushing and murmuring soft words while she moved some debris from the back of the bookcase, before wedging the pointed end of the shovel as far underneath the edge of the book case as she could and pushing forward with all her weight. Mina’s heart jumped when she saw it move. Grace let out a blood curdling scream. Mina tried to ignore the same noise that seemed to be coming from inside her own skull as she adjusted her grip to move the case further.
“Go NOW, Grace!”
“I can’t, my leg is broken, I can’t move it at all.”
“No games, Grace, it will hurt a hell of a lot more if I drop this, I can’t hold it up while you decide. Use your arms and shuffle backwards. It is now or it gets worse!”
“Don’t shout, please, Mina. Give me a moment.”
“Grace,” Mina said, now red faced with the strain. “Move NOW. GO. GO. GO. Come on!” Mina only looked down as far as the bottom of the spade and the relief of seeing Grace’s trouser leg moving backwards was completely overwhelmed by the effort of keeping the bookcase raised against arms that were starting to shake. “Nearly there. Quick.”
“Almost got it.”
The spade started to push back against Mina and the bookcase started to slowly lower back down. Grace had to twist with another anguished cry to get her foot free. As soon as there was a gap between foot and book case, Mina hurriedly dropped the spade down to the ground clutching at the biceps and shoulders on each of her arms.
A moment later, she looked down at Grace’s leg. It was bad. She thought quickly and covered it with her own jacket.
“Grace, I somehow need to get you back to my house so you can get painkillers, water and food in that order. Can you think enough to tell me where there might be a cart or a wheel barrow or anything that I might be able to take you on.” Grace lay on her side clutching at her thigh through the jacket. She was taking heavy breaths and barely looked awake in her eyes. “Grace,” Mina prompted.
“I’m thinking.”
“Forgive me.”
“Three doors down, Mr Jennings has a small box trailer for his car. He keeps it in his garden.”
“Thank you, let us both hope that we are lucky enough for it to still be standing.”
Chapter 25
“You know, this isn’t anywhere near as bad as I thought it would be,” Shannon said.
Leighton regarded the comment. “The camping experience?”
“The lack of people.”
Leighton dwelled on the words a moment before sniggering. “-And you kept trying to convince me that you were an extrovert!”
“Okay, I concede,” Shannon started. “Having just you and Zeke and no-one else to drop their bullshit on you is pretty nice.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you for ages that this is the case. You don’t believe me until you decide that a post-apocalyptic wasteland is kind of your bag.”
“Don’t say that!”
“Don’t say what?” Leighton asked, hands spread out wide.
“Post-apocalyptic wasteland. It reminds me of those awful 80’s movies you like to watch. Makes it sound like we are the only ones and that we will always be struggling just to get by. The word ‘wasteland’ makes it sound so endless, so desolate, so – I don’t know – miserable.”
“I think that’s what it is supposed to be like, though. Don’t you think that is the exciting bit?”
“It’s not exciting. Not for me. I grew up with struggle and wastelands. It’s not fun, it’s tiring.”
“In that case, I’m sorry. Right,” Leighton clapped his hands. “We are going to make this fun! We got everything to survive right now, so let’s play a game. Are you ready?”
Shannon looked across at Leighton a smile slowly crossing her lips. “Okay,” she said.
“The game is…” Leighton drummed his hands on his thighs. “-we all go…” The tapping continued as Shannon urged him on with movements of her head. “-get some water!”
“That’s not a game,” Shannon said crossly.
“Well, if you come with it me, it will be more fun for me!” Leighton gave Shannon a thumb up on both hands.
“No.”
“Fun.”
“Fine. We’ll all go and watch you carry water back.”
“Yes,” Leighton said triumphantly, jumping to his feet and offering his hand for Shannon to take. She took and pulled herself to her feet.
“Shouldn’t we put the fire out?”
“No. That’s why we build a fire pit.”
They walked for a few steps and the dry pine needles crunched loudly under their feet. After a few paces Leighton turned around to go and douse the fire. Shannon stood still and watched on with pleasure.
Mina returned to Grace after leaving a wheel barrow that she had found in the garden four doors down. Their luck had returned her something, if not what they had hoped, it would still do the job. The fence between the gardens had been completely flattened which had allowed her to see it sat in plain sight and she had also managed to find a bundle of thick nylon garden rope to secure Grace’s leg for the journey back.
It felt like it had taken somewhere near an hour to get Grace to the wheelbarrow just outside the door. Grace seemed to have been close to passing out and took a few moments to rouse, saying things about needing to sleep deeply. Then after a single attempt to stand that ended badly and Mina seeing her friend’s leg wobble as if completely void of bone or structure, she had moved as much debris as possible from the path and shuffled Grace inch by inch backwards. Grace roared as Mina had lifted her in to the barrow with some support from Grace’s good leg and arms on the side. The wheelbarrow had almost tipped several times, but they had managed it.
Once in place, Mina used the rope to tie Grace’s right leg to one of the wheelbarrow’s arms that were long enough that mina could still grip the handle competently without her hand being displaced by the limp foot that seemed to hang lifelessly in the air. Mina was proud of herself for thinking of it, perhaps she had seen it in a movie or perhaps some deep awareness, thick with common sense that so often alluded her, had brought the obviousness of keeping it elevated and unable to move.
Grace settled down significantly once she was strapped in place by her leg and gripping tightly to the metal sides. Her head hung awkwardly just over the top of the far end, but at least she had to just keep her head raised a little and let Mina do the hard work for the way back.
Tariq thought again about the ringleader of Anton’s town, another almost certainly dead. If it wasn’t for his ill actions, he would have surely died with him and Anton in the violent display. Buildings being torn apart from above, fires raging through any building left standing; spreading into the woods around. He looked up for the tell of smoke throughout the treeline, suddenly panicked by that thought, but he saw nothing but a smouldering, thin line of grey coming up from behind the treeline. Nothing to warrant fear, though he did turn to look at the garage petrol pumps with a wary glance. He could barely control his thoughts as they raced betwe
en different scenarios, most induced by panic or attached to his feelings of confusion. Anton wasn’t a saint, though. He had taken Tariq in when ill, but that was convenient enough for him. When push came to shove, it was he who had sold him out to the lion’s den. A pit of fury swelled in Tariq’s stomach, but it subdued quickly with the thought that the anger was being expressed towards something no longer living. Someone no longer living. This idea didn’t stop Tariq for cursing himself for a trust mislaid. He damned himself. If there was anyone left on this earth, he wouldn’t trust them. This was survival and there was no room for trust.
He contemplated another bottle of whatever he could find behind the counter, but he subdued it. He needed a clear-headed plan right now, rather than his preferred option of another drink. Nothing would beat a way out of this poor outlook than a well-executed strategy. Tariq stepped back into the dark, grabbed a pen and paper and an ‘A – Z’ street map and went back out onto the step of his fire escape to see what he – alone – could come up with.
Chapter 26 - Day 5
It was raining, so Leighton spent the time prone with his head at the tent opening, desperately trying to calibrate the air rifle's sights. He was shooting at a knot on the trunk of a tree around thirty meters away. He deemed that would probably be the range at which he could hit a stationary rabbit – and at the very least – stop it from running away and with a little luck kill it outright. It was a simple, break-barrel, spring-loaded air rifle given to him by his dad. It was a simple enough design that he felt it would last a suitable amount of time and didn't need refills of carbon dioxide cartridges or constant maintenance. Its simplicity was its grace and in this instance reliability was far more important than range or power.
The day passed slowly with a knot of frustration growing in his stomach and an annoyed wife, concerned that he didn't seem to be getting it right first time. Shannon was tending to their son who was getting increasingly restless without the usual music and toys that he could interact with. It was well into the afternoon when he was finally happy with both the iron sights and optic sights. He decided, however, that it was too wet to take it out and try it out for real.
Ousted: A thrilling debut novel of survival and humanity Page 13