Outside - a post-apocalyptic novel

by Boland, Shalini

  ‘Ellie,’ a whisper. ‘Ellie, it’s me. Tom.’ I heard the door brush across the carpet. Johnny and Riley were downstairs somewhere, living their own personal hells. I was curled up in my bed living mine.

  ‘Ellie, I’m so sorry,’ Tom cried. ‘I can’t believe it … Skye …’

  ‘It’s my fault.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘It is. If I hadn’t gone out …’

  ‘If you hadn’t gone out, Skye would still have left the house. You’d have been asleep. You wouldn’t have heard her.’

  ‘Luc found her,’ I said. ‘They’re saying it might have been Luc …’

  ‘Well that’s crazy. But things have changed …’

  ‘What? What’s changed?’

  ‘Connor’s been arrested. They’re saying it was him who killed her. They found a hole in the fence and …’

  ‘Oh my God,’ I hissed. ‘No! That was … that wasn’t anything to do with …’

  ‘Ellie!’ Tom bent down and grabbed my arm. I was sobbing again. ‘Ellie! That hole?’

  ‘Yes!’ I said. ‘Yes!’ I almost shouted.

  ‘Shhh! For God sake keep your voice down.’

  ‘Yes, Connor and I made that entrance so he could come and see me.’

  ‘You idiot! What were you thinking?’

  ‘I know. It’s a mess. I’ve made a mess of everything.’

  ‘Too late for all that. They’re going to execute Connor.’

  ‘No! We have to get him out. You have to get him out, Tom.’

  ‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘Give me the keys to your AV. I’ll sort it.’

  We sent Connor to lie low at my parents’ place in Uley. They had always been fond of Connor and were overjoyed to see him alive and well. They didn’t know he was also Ron Chambers, wanted for murder. They didn’t know he was my lover. They didn’t know anything.

  But I eventually had to tell Johnny everything and this betrayal, on top of Skye’s death, was more than he could take. He said he thought it would be a good idea if I left for a while. He said I should go away and think about what I wanted - meaning Connor or him.

  I couldn’t believe he was still prepared to accept me after all I had put him through. I sobered up quickly and went home to Uley to see my parents and Connor and to decide what to do next. The worst part was having to leave Riley behind. I knew she was disgusted with me – first for the drinking and then for abandoning her.

  When I got to The Uley Perimeter, I did a lot of thinking. And although I now lived in the same house as Connor, I hardly saw or spoke to him. Everything had changed. I had changed. I realised what I had done and I felt ashamed, disgusted. I will always blame myself for Skye’s death, and the guilt now constantly plucks away at me, like a warped discordant guitar. But I welcome it. The guilt is something I deserve to live with.

  Chapter Forty Five

  Riley

  *

  My world shifts and spins. My life shatters into a million lies. Ma has just told me the truth. The ugly, unadulterated truth. A truth which makes me want to vomit or scream or cry or fall into a mind-numbing sleep for a century. I stare from her, to Chambers, to my lap. And then I raise my eyes back to her with disbelief and something bordering on hate. She sits next to me on the sofa. Chambers sits opposite. I can feel him staring at me.

  ‘It can’t be true.’ A tear drips onto the back of my hand and I wipe my cheek angrily. ‘Why would you … How could you be so deceitful? What about Pa? Poor Pa …’

  Ma stands up, her face drawn. I see her look desperately into Chambers’ eyes and I want to slap her.

  ‘Connor,’ she says. ‘Would you mind … leaving me and Riley for a few minutes?’

  ‘Yeah. Sure.’ A soft voice with the trace of an accent. He stands up and leaves the room without looking at me.

  Coward, I think. My biological father … I get up and walk away from Ma, over to the sofa that Chambers has just vacated. I don’t sit down. I just turn and stare across at my mother. Who is this woman? I don’t even know her anymore.

  ‘How could you do that to Pa? I thought you loved him. He adores you.’

  ‘I know.’ She’s crying now. ‘I know. I’ve got no excuses. I was wrong and I’ve paid the price for it.’

  ‘We’ve all paid the price for it,’ I snarl. ‘For your affair. Oh my God! I just can’t believe it!’ I feel my emotions spiralling out of control. ‘How could you let me go on thinking it was Chambers who killed Skye, when you knew …’ My voice cracks and breaks. I try to steady it. ‘… When you knew it wasn’t him. You should’ve confessed to everybody there and then. You should’ve told everyone you’re a … you’re a …’ But no matter how disgusted and hurt and angry I feel, I can’t call Ma any of the vile words that are crashing around my head. I just can’t.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she sobs. ‘I’m so, so sorry my darling girl.’

  ‘Does Pa even know?’

  ‘Yes, yes. I told him everything. And I still love him. He’s my life, Riley. You and he are everything to me.’

  ‘Well, obviously not.’

  She flinches. ‘What can I do?’ she asks. ‘How can I make this right? For you.’

  ‘What a stupid thing to ask.’ I don’t want to be so harsh, but I can’t help it. I want to inflict hurt. To make her pay. Even though I can see she’s devastated. Repentant. Broken. ‘So what are you going to do?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m coming back home.’

  ‘Does Pa want you to come back?’ I feel myself outraged and hurt on his behalf.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You know I don’t want anything to do with that man. Chambers or Connor or whatever the hell his name is. I don’t even want to see him. He’s nothing to me.’

  ‘He’s your biological father, Riley.’

  ‘I have a father and it’s not him.’

  ‘Okay. I’ve really messed this up. I probably shouldn’t have told you he’s your real father. It’s just … I didn’t want there to be any more secrets.’

  ‘I wish you hadn’t told me. That’s a secret you should’ve kept to yourself. I’m going out.’ I leave the room.

  ‘It’s late! It’s dark out there! You don’t know the area …’ Ma’s voice follows me into the hallway.

  I hear voices coming from another room, but I ignore them. Ma comes into the hall, but I open the front door and slam it behind me. The night air hits me like a freezing slap, but I like it. I want to feel cold and uncomfortable. To shiver. I run down the road, away from the cul-de-sac of houses. I cross the wide road at the bottom of the hill and see a large deserted playing field in front of me. The kissing gate squeaks as I push it open and sidestep through.

  I sit on the wet grass with my arms wrapped around my knees, too exhausted to think about anything. I stay there until I can no longer feel my fingers and toes and can’t stop my teeth from chattering.

  Uncle Tom finds me before sleep does. He drapes my shoulders with a blanket and helps me up.

  ‘Come on, you,’ he says. ‘It’ll all be okay. Come back to the house. Connor’s gone. You need to sleep. It’ll be okay, I promise.’

  I let him soothe me and we walk together back up to the house.

  Epilogue

  *

  He was in his early thirties, but had the look of someone far older. His clothes were dirty and worn, his once fair hair was thick and darkly matted and he was limping quite badly. Holding onto his left shoulder as he hobbled along, you could clearly see the overgrown, filthy nails on his right hand, the back of which was a mass of scratches.

  But more distressing than his overall appearance, was the fact he was a grown man sobbing out loud in unashamed misery. Snot and tears collected in a wretched glob on the side of his chin and he angrily wiped his grimy sleeve across his face, adding a clump of black dirt and grit to the mixture. How did I get here? Jamie asked himself. Once upon a time I was happy, loved, on top of the world and now here I am, starving, aching and bloody miserable. Nobody even know
s I exist.

  He had been on his way to the compound in Boscombe. The girl at the Poole Shanty had told him about it.

  ‘They’re looking for cheap labour,’ she’d said, ‘and they’re taking on outsiders.’

  The girl was gorgeous in a short-haired pseudo-soldier sort of way. He didn’t think she’d be living on the outside for long. About nineteen years old he reckoned and not yet worn down by the grinding harshness of life on the outside. Feisty and tough - he knew it was a necessary armour and he also knew through all that spikiness, she liked him.

  This was just the spark he needed to gee him up a bit. Most people he came across were truly horrible and it was a relief to have a bit of a laugh, pretend things weren’t as bleak as they actually were.

  He’d tried to act disinterested, but all the time, he was contriving to meet up with her accidentally on purpose at the Boscombe Compound, which was where she was now headed with her pig-ugly friends. To avoid appearing too keen, he watched her leave the shanty, waited a day and then left to make his own way there.

  Then that stupid rich bitch had smacked into him with her AV. She’d looked at him in the wing mirror and he’d instantly known she wouldn’t give him a second thought - would never stop for a nobody like me. He supposed he should be grateful she didn‘t have shock plates, but she’d really banged up his leg and his shoulder didn’t feel too good either.

  How was he supposed to make it to Boscombe now? He’d never catch up with the girl again either. She’d said she was going to see what Boscombe had to offer and then she thought she might head up to London.

  Yeah right, he’d thought, but had been strangely buoyed up by her optimism. Okay, well more buoyed up by her tongue ring and what she’d said she could do with it. And now that opportunity was gone and he was injured badly and why couldn’t anything ever just go right for him just once? More tears escaped. I’m just a low-life, no-hoper, snivelling loser, he raged silently to himself.

  To rub salt in the wound, he was currently limping outside one of Bournemouth’s most prestigious areas, The Talbot Woods Perimeter. He took care not to get spotted by the guards who patrolled the inner fences. There was no way for him to get inside anyway so they’d probably just ignore him, but he couldn’t face any sort of confrontation tonight.

  Through the humming electrified wire, Jamie glimpsed the mansions which sat grandly in gardens landscaped to the max. Each one had its own distinctive style and its own fancy security system, no doubt.

  ‘Tossers!’ he shouted ineffectually. It was more of a strangled sob and it kick-started a bout of coughing. God, I’d kill for a well-brewed beer, he thought.

  It was a warm evening and he sweated slightly in his filthy sludge-coloured T shirt. He’d tied his grubby stained jacket around his waist and his feet sweltered in worn out leather boots. He wished he had sandals, but these boots were the only pair of footwear he owned, and they were ready for the scrap heap.

  It was getting dark now and he realised he’d have to find somewhere to sleep soon. He didn’t allow himself to look in at the lighted windows with their scenes of rich domesticity. He used to lose himself in fantasies of this nature, but it was way too painful and completely pointless; he was no masochist.

  Jamie was hungry, starving in fact. Then he remembered the homemade berry bar the old lady had given him yesterday at the shanty. She said he reminded her of her dead son (morbid old cow) but that he looked like he could do with a decent meal. Predictably, she invited him to eat lunch with her family and he accepted immediately. This was nothing new; he often aroused motherly instincts in women. It was a natural gift, like having a good singing voice or being a good kisser.

  The food she’d prepared had been pretty awful, but it had filled a hole. The only thing on the menu that tasted any good was her berry cake, which he had raved about, in the hope she would give him some more. When he had said his goodbyes, she slipped a wrapped berry bar into his jacket pocket and told him to take good care of himself. Now, when he reached into his pocket for the bar, it wasn’t there.

  ‘What?’ He had been saving it. Building himself up to enjoying its moist oaty sweetness. Now finding it gone was just another kick in the teeth. He checked his other pockets. Maybe I put it in my bundle, he thought, knowing full well he hadn’t, but deciding to check anyway. He untied the piece of thin canvas material he used to carry around his few possessions. Every day, he meticulously checked it for holes as he’d lost items before, where some creature had nibbled through the material. He spread it out on the uneven dried earth and sifted through his belongings, but the bar wasn’t there either.

  It was in my pocket, I know it was. This was rapidly turning into a disastrous night. Then, it dawned on him he had probably lost it when the AV had knocked him flying. He wasn’t too far from where it happened and so he decided to turn back and search for it. If he didn’t, he knew he would end up dreaming about the damn thing.

  He limped back with his eyes glued to the ground. It was almost dark now and he cursed the woman who had knocked him down. Finally, he saw the tyre marks, not far from the Perimeter gates, where the vehicle had skidded to a halt earlier this evening.

  ‘Right, where are you?’ He scanned the track and the surrounding area, where he thought he had been thrown, but he couldn’t find it. It could have gone flying in any direction. He combed the area, straining his eyes, but the bar had been wrapped in a large green leaf, tied with twine and, if it wasn’t out in the open, it would be nicely camouflaged in its leafy surroundings.

  He pulled back a small bush, crossly, not expecting to find what he was looking for, when suddenly, he spied it lying in a clump of weeds, right by the fence.

  ‘Yes!’ He laughed out loud, feeling ridiculously happy at this small triumph. Then he frowned, as he noticed a gaping hole in the electric fence, right next to his berry bar. He snatched up the bar and put it back into his pocket, ensuring he buttoned it closed this time. He examined the hole. It was definitely large enough for a person to climb through, as long as they were careful not to touch the electrified sides. Should he? Shouldn’t he?

  *

  Fourteen year old Skye lived next door to the gorgeous Luc Donovan. She thought his house was the nicest on the Perimeter. During the last few weeks, she’d occasionally snuck out of her house late at night, to meet up for a laugh.

  He always started off a bit annoyed, but he never told her to go home straight away. He’d have a game of cards with her or a swim, before saying her Pa would kill him if she kept coming over at night without permission. She more or less ignored his protests and just laughed at him, calling him a chicken and a wimp, although this was miles away from what she really thought.

  She had decided to meet him again tonight, and this time she’d make it crystal clear how she really felt about him. He’d have to be blind not to realise anyway, she’d dropped enough hints for God’s sake.

  Pa had been out working on Hook Island all night and had gone to bed, tired out, at about one thirty. Ma was next door at Uncle Tom’s and she must’ve crashed there for the night. Riley had gone to bed a couple of hours ago and she always slept like a log.

  Skye had her own rooms in the warren-like attic on the second floor and she loved the higgledy piggledyness of them. She’d also started to appreciate the bonus of having her own separate staircase which led almost directly to the back door. The only thing she had to be careful of was Woolly making too much noise. She knew he wouldn’t bark at her arrival, but his claws made an awful clattering racket on the old wooden floors as he twirled around and around in a mad frenzy of greeting.

  Luc was delicious - seventeen, dark haired and popular in an ‘I don’t care’ sort of way. Even her parents loved him. Both sets of parents were really buddy-buddy and they were always going on group family picnics together or visiting each other’s houses for barbeques, parties, Christmas drinks and stuff.

  However, Skye knew their parents would go ballistic if she and Luc started se
eing each other, not least because she was only fourteen. Skye guessed Luc had a bit of a thing for Riley, but he hadn’t a hope of getting anywhere with her as she always set her sights on older, harder to obtain boyfriends. Skye thought she was mad. Luc was the fittest bloke in the Perimeter, if not the whole of the country.

  *

  Jamie chewed his lip as he looked at the hole. He’d get drafted, beaten up or shot if he got caught, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. It was fate. What treasures might he find on the other side? At the very least, he might find some more food, or a comfortable place to sleep. That decided him. He would sleep in relative safety tonight, away from the scavs and muggers and he would still set off for Boscombe in the morning.

  He took off his coat and put it and his bundle through the hole first. Then he made himself as small as possible and squeezed his way nervously through, ignoring the sharp pain in his injured shoulder and tensing his body, fearful of getting a shock from the fence.

  Once he was safely through, he shrugged his jacket back on and found himself surrounded by fruit trees and manicured shrubs and bushes. He yanked a small golden apple from a low bough and put it into his other pocket. Then he picked a tiny under ripe plum and took a bite, spitting it out in disgust at the sour taste.

  He was obviously in someone’s garden, some rich person’s garden by the look of it. He saw a large white timber summerhouse in front of him. It was octagonal in shape and he crept closer to investigate. The summerhouse, or poolhouse, sat about twenty feet away from an Olympic-sized swimming pool and its underwater lights cast a dancing glow over the area. He could see the main house the garden belonged to. It was more mansion than house and looked miles away from where Jamie stood, staring. No lights were on.

  He turned back to look at the poolhouse. It had round blue glass windows, set into each of the eight sides, like portholes. The door had a white wooden frame with a large stained glass window depicting scenes of picture-book sailing boats on stylised waves under a blue sky. A generator hummed and Jamie deliberated over whether or not to break the beautiful stained glass, to gain entry. But he hesitated, worried about alerting the guards and strangely reluctant to destroy this tranquil scene.