Outside - a post-apocalyptic novel

by Boland, Shalini

  ‘Just stay hidden for a bit longer,’ says Luc. ‘I can still see them in my rear view and I don’t want to switch to blackout in case Duke gets suspicious.’

  ‘It’s okay, I wasn’t coming out yet,’ I mumble. ‘I’m just trying to get comfy. It’s really bumpy.’

  ‘I know. I’ll slow down a bit.’

  ‘No, it’s okay. I’m alright.’ I don’t want him to think I’m whingeing. ‘Maybe just move the bag off my head.’

  ‘Are you sure? I thought a bag-on-the-head was quite a good look for you.’

  ‘Yeah, great.’ I feel its weight disappear. ‘Ah, that’s better.’ He whips the blanket off next.

  ‘You don’t need that now either.’ He smiles down at me.

  I can’t believe how sweaty I’ve become. My face must be bright red, my hair plastered all round it in unattractive clumps. My knees are clicking and my left foot’s got cramp. God, only several minutes into our journey and I’m already completely inadequate. What’s Luc going to think of me?

  I’ve got more butterflies in my stomach thinking of him, than I do thinking of our mission ahead. Am I really so shallow? I even took special care with my hair and make-up this morning (a lot of good that’s done me, after sweating under an itchy blanket for fifteen minutes). Or is it simply that Luc is the here and now and our adventure still seems quite abstract and distant; not enough to make me feel afraid yet. I hope it’ll stay that way and I’ll face whatever’s out here with calm dignity and poise and not panic like an idiot.

  I peer up at Luc while he concentrates on driving. He looks so calm and unfazed. No way on earth could I have done this without him. I don’t have the balls or the connections. I may have come up with the idea, but Luc’s making it happen.

  I think of Skye and immediately feel guilty. Is this trip really for her, or is it just an elaborate ploy to get closer to Luc? Honestly … it’s a bit of both. I know the last thing I should be thinking of is my love life. My sister’s dead and she was in love with him. I feel like such a bad person. I imagine her looking down at me thinking how selfish I am to want her own darling Luc, while she’s gone and unable to have him.

  But for all my guilt, I’m not really trying that hard to suppress my emotions like I know I should. The feelings run too deep and even if nothing ever happens with him, I’ll still have my daydreams.

  Chapter Nine

  Eleanor

  *

  I met Connor through my brother Tom, a bit of a peace-and-lentils hippy. Always on a march or a sit-in, Tom was the youngest of my three elder brothers and we were really close. He was a long-haired, unshaven darling and I loved him to bits. He always brought waifs and strays home, to the secret delight of Mum, who loved having a houseful of interesting people and the annoyance of Dad, who preferred the quiet life.

  But even Dad liked Connor, who was unobtrusive, polite and infinitely helpful. Mum always joked she’d like to trade one of her lazy sons for hard-working Connor.

  I’d been seeing Johnny for about a month, when Tom brought Connor home to stay for a few weeks and it was love at first sight. I got crazy butterflies every time he came near. His lazy gentle voice with its soft northern inflection made me swoon and he smelt like heaven.

  ‘You know you’re always welcome to our guest bedroom, Connor,’ Mum said.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Russell. But I’m really happy sleeping in my bus. I guess it’s like my home. If I could park up on your driveway though?’

  ‘Of course you can. That’s no trouble.’

  He’d restored the two-tone red and cream VW camper van himself, and Dad thought it was a marvel. He kept hinting to Mum that he’d like to do a restoration job on a vintage car, but mum wasn’t having any of it.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ She spread out her hands in mock-horror. ‘We’ve got enough restoration jobs to do on this vintage house, before we progress on to cars.’

  Dad reluctantly agreed, but could often be found outside in the driveway, mooning after the beautifully restored camper van.

  It was a semi-warm late July Sunday afternoon. One of those days where it’s scorching hot until the sun goes behind a cloud and then you feel like you need your thermal underwear. Connor had been with us for a week now, and we’d just demolished one of Mum’s huge roast dinners. It was a rare occasion where we all happened to be home at the same time - Mum, Dad, Oliver, David, Tom and me - a big family affair with Connor as the guest of honour.

  Tom was a strict vegetarian, but Connor had no problem helping us to devour the two huge roast chickens. I regretted the second helping of apple pie and custard I’d thought was such a good idea at the time and decided to get some air in the garden while everyone else watched boring Sunday afternoon sports on TV. I walked around for a bit and then flopped on the rug with my book. Moments later, Connor appeared and lay down beside me. My heart rate doubled at his close proximity.

  ‘What’ve you got planned for the rest of the day?’ he asked, rolling onto his back and staring up the sky.

  ‘Not a lot. Going out later for a drink at The Crown.’

  ‘Am I invited?’

  ‘I um, I can’t tonight,’ I stammered. I was supposed to be going there with Johnny to meet Abi and Sam, and how would it look if I showed up with Connor.

  I had never dared to hope Connor would be interested in me. I had no option now, but to end things with Johnny. He just didn’t compare with this god lying next to me.

  ‘How about Monday?’ I said without thinking.

  ‘Great,’ he replied and got up. He went back into the house, leaving me lying there in a fizz of emotion.

  That night, I got ready for my night out with Johnny. I was dreading it, knowing I’d have to finish things with him. I hoped I wouldn’t bottle out, but the image of Connor kept floating around in my brain, so I gritted my teeth and prepared myself for an awful evening. I didn't want to make myself look too nice, but at the same time, I didn't want Johnny to think I hadn't even bothered. I ended up settling on a long summer dress that had never really suited me.

  We were supposed to be going to the pub to meet Abi and Samuel and I planned to speak to him on our way back home. But when Johnny came to pick me up, he told me he had two tickets for a photography exhibition at the Arnolfini in Bristol. Ordinarily I would have loved to have gone, but when he told me, my heart sank. I knew I had a long evening ahead of me.

  Sure enough, when we got there, I couldn't focus on anything. I just kept thinking about what I should say and how I should say it.

  We had a pizza afterwards and I could barely eat. I just wanted the night to be over. Johnny kept asking me what was wrong. I felt like such a cow. I realised I should probably have told him before we went out and spared us both the misery and the expense. He hadn't even let me pay for anything, which made me feel doubly bad. Finally we walked back to the car park, Johnny with his arm around me. The silence in the car pulsated with awkwardness. About halfway home, Johnny finally spoke.

  ‘What is it, Ellie? You've been quiet all evening. Are you feeling okay? Have I done something wrong?’

  ‘No, no nothing.’ I paused. ‘Johnny, I'm really sorry but I can't see you anymore.’ The words sounded worse out loud than they had in my head.

  He didn't answer and I didn't dare look at him. I had my head down and started to feel car sick. We'd only met for about six dates in all, and they’d nearly all been with Abi and Samuel in tow, so I hadn’t imagined he would be too upset. Maybe just a bit of hurt pride. But even so, it still wasn't a very nice thing to do. Over the past four weeks, we’d kissed a lot but I hadn’t felt willing to do much else and he hadn’t pushed it, to my intense relief.

  After a couple of minutes, Johnny spoke: ‘Is there anything I can say or do to make you change your mind?’

  Oh no. ‘Johnny, I really like you, but I've met someone else. Nothing's happened,’ I hastily added. ‘I wouldn't see someone else behind your back.’ That sounded terrible. I racked my brain for something better
to say, but I couldn't. I knew I wasn’t technically seeing Connor, but I didn’t want to complicate things and I knew Johnny would find out sooner or later anyway. I sneaked a glance at him. He looked really gutted and didn't say a word until he dropped me at my house.

  ‘I really liked you, Eleanor. I think we could have been good together.’

  I couldn't look him in the eye.

  ‘Let me know if you change your mind.’

  I was quite impressed he hadn't asked me who I’d ditched him for and I felt an unexpected tug of disappointment that I wouldn't be seeing him again.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I replied inadequately, and went into the house feeling really down.

  *

  Finally, Monday evening came around. I‘d taken ages to get ready, even though I’d decided to dress down. Connor struck me as a jeans-and-t-shirt kind of boy and I guessed he wouldn‘t be too into girls who wore tons of makeup. But it still took time to get the no-make-up look just perfect.

  Connor took me to a pub on the banks of The River Severn. The warm evening breeze whispered across my skin, heightening my nervousness.

  ‘D’you want to get a table?’ he asked. ‘I’ll get the drinks.’

  I made my way across the lawn of the pretty pub garden which sloped down onto the rippling water. It was busy, but I managed to get a table quite close to the river. I stared out across to the hills on the other side, not quite believing that Connor actually wanted to spend time with me. I hoped I wouldn’t embarrass myself by talking rubbish.

  Ten minutes later, he put the drinks on the table, smiled and sat down opposite me. I couldn't believe how gorgeous he was.

  ‘Abi’s not very happy with me,’ I said.

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. I was supposed to be going out with her tonight. I feel a bit bad.’

  ‘Oh well, I’m sure she’ll cope.’

  ‘I don’t think so. You don’t know her very well. She’ll sulk for a week.’ I felt a bit disloyal talking about my friend like this. Connor reached across the table and ran his finger lazily up and down my forearm, making me draw in my breath.

  ‘You shouldn’t worry so much about what she thinks.’

  ‘I don’t! It’s just … well, you don‘t know her properly.’ I pulled my arms back to my sides, instantly regretting it.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ he smiled, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘Just an observation. Don’t need to be defensive.’

  ‘I’m not.’ Then I smiled back, despite myself. He was so-o-o good-looking.

  I loved his too-pale features which contrasted with almost black hair and dark eyes. His build was slim and lithe and he had the laid-back, easy-grace of an indie rock god. His cool confidence made me nervous, but it was irresistible.

  When I’d told Abi how I felt about Connor, she’d turned up her nose.

  ‘What about Johnny?’ she’d said. ‘He’s the real catch. Connor’s just a baby and he’s too skinny.’

  ‘He’s not skinny! He’s athletic. And he’s three years older than us.’

  ‘Still a baby in boy years. You’re mad. Johnny’s such a babe - intelligent, rich and completely into you. He‘s staying on this summer because of you, you know.’

  ‘No he isn’t, he’s got a work placement down here. I can’t help who I’m attracted to can I? And Johnny’s sweet, but he’s not really my type. Connor’s sexy and cool.’

  ‘Well Johnny’ll be devastated, and what about us? We were all supposed to go away together next half-term. You’re ruining our social life.’

  Abi was really annoyed. She knew her grip on Samuel was loosening and now I’d ended it with Johnny she worried Sam would completely lose interest in her. Abi was always used to having the upper hand in her relationships.

  The other black mark she had against Connor, was that he hadn’t been won over by her charms, which she’d turned on to maximum effect. She’d given him the full Abi treatment and it was like watching a master at work. But to my surprise (and intense relief) Connor hadn’t bought into her act at all. She actually irritated him and she knew it. This didn’t go down well with her at all. It made things tricky though, as it meant she wasn’t prepared to listen to me raving about him and so I had to walk a long tightrope between the two of them.

  Chapter Ten

  Riley

  *

  As soon as the Perimeter becomes a distant blur behind us, Luc gives me the all clear to come out of my hiding place. I unfold my body and slide back into the passenger seat. The heater’s warm air is now exchanged for a refreshing blast from the air conditioning. It may be September but it’s as hot as midsummer outside, even though it’s still early in the day.

  I take in the unfamiliar scenery - uneven scrubland, deserted shanties and packs of skinny, mangy dogs, lying in shady spots, their pink tongues lolling. The openness of everything unsettles me. I feel like an insignificant gnat about to be swallowed up by the vast landscape and I realise how much confidence and security the Perimeter provides. The genteel fuzzyfelt lawns, immaculate houses and straight roads of our everyday enclosed world that keep me safe.

  It’s just over four miles from our Talbot Woods Perimeter to the Wessex Way, a sporadically-maintained road that will take us up to Ringwood and then on to Warminster. But we’re currently travelling on rough terrain. The Wessex Way used to stretch much further into the heart of Bournemouth, but as the years go by, the army is less-and-less inclined to bother with its upkeep. Consequently, the road has got shorter and shorter. Nature is winning the battle.

  The AV is well-equipped to deal with the scrub and overgrown woodland, but our progress is still snail like. Rabbits bound and zigzag across our path with more speed than we’re able to muster. I look across at Luc with what must be a doubtful expression on my face, because he laughs at me.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he reassures. ‘We’ll pick up some speed once we hit the Wessex Way. It’s mind-blowing out here, isn’t it?’

  ‘Mm, amazing,’ I reply, too wired to really enjoy the surroundings. A million thoughts and worries flash through my mind.

  ‘Do you think the riots are still going on at Ringwood?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve been worrying about that. If I knew a safer route I’d take it but I don’t know any other way. We don’t have to go directly through the town, so I’m pretty sure we’ll miss any trouble. And we’re safe enough in here. I’m sure it’ll be fine as long as we’re not there at night.’

  We bump along across vast tracts of heather and gorse scrub and negotiate our way around dark stands of conifers. I’m riveted by the dramatic shape of a wind blown pine - stunted and hunched as if frozen in fear.

  Old bomb craters, reclaimed by nature, now blend into their natural surroundings as mossy banked dips and marshy pools. In less than two decades, the landscape has more-or-less reverted back to its natural state, most of it now scrub and overgrown woodland.

  All the buildings making up the various Bournemouth conurbations have long since been destroyed; the remaining rubble and debris removed by scavengers either to sell on or re-build elsewhere. Somewhere safer and less desolate. Not a single brick remains.

  It’s an ancient wilderness with only the odd violent nod towards civilisation - the shell of a burnt-out car, an upturned bus, a frayed rope hanging from a tree with a pile of bleached bones beneath it. I feel exposed and vulnerable, glad for the daylight. I don’t want to think about what it will feel like later, in the darkness.

  A lone horseman materialises from nowhere. He gallops past, about two hundred yards from our AV. His head’s down low and his bay horse is slick with sweat. As he passes, he turns to look at us but Luc activates the blackout mode, so all he’ll see is his blurred reflection in our windows. He has a young face. He thunders off in the direction from where we’ve just come.

  ‘Probably a messenger,’ says Luc.

  There are no telecommunications these days. We’re privileged to have access to the Donovans’ radio communication syste
m which links up to the Guards Houses across the country but this sort of device is a rarity. Most people have to rely on asking the army for news, or the travelling horsemen who earn great sums to deliver mail to loved ones around the country and to pass on important messages.

  I think about the dangers these riders face. They’re surely armed, but have nothing like the security we enjoy in our AV. They’re prime targets, for who knows what important information or goods they might be carrying.

  After forty minutes or so, the huge walled Charminster Compound looms ahead, sitting incongruously in the barren countryside. The outside wall must measure about twenty five feet high. Topped with razor wire, it’s made up of a mish-mash of different bricks, some parts rendered and some parts exposed. It looks like a strange medieval town. A wide deep ditch runs around the outside and a sloping metal ramp at the entrance lies across the ditch, passing under two steel gates that have just swung open.

  A convoy of metallic grey armoured buses crawls out of the compound, the sunlight glinting off their roofs. They’re the same as those that deliver the workers to the Perimeter and, sure enough, I recognise some of the faces behind the windows. Not all of the buses head in the direction of our Perimeter though and I wonder where the others are going.

  ‘The road we want is a couple of miles past the other side of the compound,’ says Luc.

  I stare, open-mouthed at the huge circular structure, awed by its size. I never imagined it to be so enormous. I always assumed our Perimeter was much bigger than the Compound. But I see now it’s the other way around. I can’t conceive of the number of people who must live behind its walls. What do they all do?

  ‘Have you ever been in there?’ I ask.

  ‘A few times, but not on business. They use their own guards. Your Pa goes there a lot though.’