by Casey, Ryan
Susan nodded. His story added up. Did she trust him? Did she hell.
But he’d helped her. He had an extra rifle. His story sounded legit.
She thought of her people. The last she’d seen of them, being led away by that group. She didn’t know who was alive if any of them still were.
“What about Hazel?” Pete asked.
Susan frowned. “What do you care?”
Pete sighed. “I didn’t do what I did to hurt the people I love. Don’t even make that suggestion.”
Susan looked away. She knew she shouldn’t punish this guy for what he’d done. They’d all done things they weren’t proud of in the name of survival. And in the name of love.
“She got taken away by the group who attacked us,” she said.
Pete very visibly swallowed a lump in his throat. “And the others?”
Susan shrugged. “The same, as far as I know.”
Pete looked out of the window of this paper shop. “Then I have no choice.”
Susan frowned. “What?”
“I have to take you to this place with the helicopters. They’ll see to you there, hopefully. And I… I have to go after the smiling bastards. I have to help Hazel and your people.”
Susan shook her head. She could hear the pain in Pete’s voice. “That’s not how it’s going down—”
“There’s no choice,” Pete said. “You’re wounded. Hurt. I’ve done what I can, but you need seeing to properly. I have to take you to this place. And then I have to deal with these people myself.”
Susan stood up. Struggled to her feet through the pain. She limped over to Pete. Took a few deep breaths despite the stabbing agony in her torso.
She stood right opposite Pete, and she took a deep breath.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Susan—”
“I’m not sitting back while you throw yourself into that place. I’m not sitting with my feet up while I could be helping my people. I’ve done enough sitting on the frigging sidelines. I’m coming with you, Pete. Besides. You need someone to keep an eye on you, you slippery bastard.”
Pete smiled at that. He looked like he was going to object, like he was going to protest.
And then he brushed a hand through his hair again and shook his head. “Well, if you insist.”
“I insist,” she said.
She stood there, opposite a man she never thought she’d trust.
Rifle in his hands.
Rifle in hers.
She looked out the window into the bright sun. Pain still clawing through her body. She was starting to shiver.
But she put that aside, and she took a deep breath.
“Let’s go save our people,” she said.
Chapter Eight
Jack watched the doors of the shipping container open up.
Light filled the container once again, which meant not as much time had passed as he thought. A little snow fell from the mostly clear skies above. A cold breeze blew inside this crate, sending shivers down his sore, pained spine. He still couldn’t breathe through his blocked nose, but he could taste blood on his tongue.
He looked into the light, and he saw the man standing there.
It was the man from before. The brute who’d beaten him to within an inch of his life.
He stood there and smiled like this was all some kind of joke.
“Good to see you back on your feet,” he said, with his deep, bellowing voice. “Got an important meeting scheduled for you.”
Jack edged back a little. But as he did, he couldn’t help looking around at his surroundings. He saw much the same as before. The clear skies. More of these large blue containers. Seagulls swooping over. An unused docks area just over to the left.
They were by the coast. How far from Barrow, Jack didn’t know.
But there was something else that caught his eye.
People.
People like the man opposite.
People like the group who had captured him.
A few of them walking through this compound.
This home of theirs.
“You just gonna stand there all day and gawp? Or are you gonna come with me?”
Jack looked back at this man. He could go with this man who’d already proven could kick the shit out of him. Or he could stand his ground and fight.
He looked back at Candice. Saw the way she looked back at him, fear and uncertainty in her eyes.
He gritted his teeth.
And then he nodded.
He stepped towards this man. Lowered his head.
The man laughed a little. “Good lad. You’re learning—”
Jack didn’t hesitate.
He swung the side of his hand into the guy’s throat, hard.
The man leaned forward, spluttering and coughing his guts out.
At that moment, Jack saw he had a chance.
“Come on!” he shouted to Candice, hopping off the shipping container and onto the damp, slushy ground below. “We need to get away from here. Now!”
Candice ran past the man as he continued to cough and splutter. For a moment, Jack thought he was going to reach out for her. He thought he was going to get a hand to her.
But then she slipped past him, ran out of the shipping container, and landed at his side.
They stood there together. Jack’s heart raced. Adrenaline surged through his bloodstream. He felt lost and disoriented. He wanted to get away from this place. But at the same time, he remembered what Candice said.
Hazel and Emma.
They were here somewhere.
He had to find them.
Jack went up to the heavy metal doors of that shipping container as the man continued to cough and splutter.
He grabbed the doors. Went to slam them shut.
“Enjoy the darkness,” he said.
He pushed the doors as hard as he could.
But just before they slammed shut, the man’s beefy arm wedged between the gap.
The man let out a cry.
Shit.
He didn’t want to draw any extra attention towards himself. And he wasn’t going to get the doors shut with the man’s arm wedged there.
He looked around. Nobody about right now. But more of those containers. Staring back at him. Watching.
The sound of footsteps close by.
Someone could step around the corner at any moment.
He went to run away when he saw something.
Candice.
Grabbing that man’s arm.
Pushing it back as far as she could.
Jack wanted to tell her they had to get away. They had to run.
But he let her fight.
She pushed his arm back some more until only his hand was poking out.
And then he gave that container door one final slam.
The man’s hand cracked.
He yanked his hand back, instinctively.
Jack slammed the doors shut and turned the lock.
He stepped back. Listened to the shouting, the banging.
And as he stood there, Candice by his side, he felt dazed.
But he couldn’t just stay here forever.
“Come on,” he said. “We need to get away from here. We need to find the others. Before it’s too—”
“Do you have a problem there, friends?”
Jack froze.
He turned around.
And when he looked back, he saw him.
The leader.
The one he’d seen pursuing him and his people by that icy pond.
The one who’d led the assault of Jack’s people.
The dark hair plastered to his head.
The thick green parka.
The beard.
The bright green eyes.
And that smile.
Jack held his breath and stood his ground. He wanted to escape. He wanted to fight.
But then he saw more figures emerge around the sides of the shipping containers.
All of them looki
ng at him.
All of them silent.
All of them smiling.
The leader took a deep breath, and his smile widened.
“Now come on,” he said. “No more nonsense. Why don’t we sit down and have a proper conversation about why you’re here. And why you aren’t going anywhere.”
Chapter Nine
“Hello, ladies. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
The man with the knife stepped inside the room, clicking the door shut behind him. He was tall and spotty, with greasy, thinning black hair peppered with dandruff, and angry red sores all over his skin. Emma could smell him the second he walked inside the room. The smell of rotting garlic. If it were the middle of summer, it wouldn’t surprise her to see flies buzzing around him.
She felt disgusted by him right away.
And she knew from the moment she saw him that he was a creep.
Every girl had a brilliant creep radar. They had to deal with enough of them in life.
He walked over to the middle of the room, the smell getting stronger the closer he got. He didn’t seem to take much notice of Lydia’s twitching body lying there on the floor. He didn’t pay much attention to anything other than Emma, Hazel, Hannah, and Mary, eyes darting between them, one by one.
Emma held her fist tight. She stared at this man at all times. She knew what men could be like in this world. Women could be bad, too. But men were something else entirely.
It was like their darkest sides had woken up. Like they just couldn’t resist the evil inside themselves.
He stood in front of Lydia’s body, a heavy Dr Martens boot stamping on her blonde hair. That made Emma feel even more uncomfortable. He didn’t show any respect for her body. So he wasn’t going to be kind to Emma or the others, either.
“What a beautiful bunch of women,” he said. He had a slight lisp. It reminded Emma of a boy called Darren she used to go to school with. People used to take the piss out of Darren, but Emma felt sorry for him. He seemed a nice enough guy. Never caused anyone any harm.
She suddenly found herself hating Darren now, though. Mostly just because of this creep’s lisp, and how much it reminded her of him.
“What do you want?” Mary asked. Her voice was shaky. She looked down at the floor rather than into the man’s eyes.
He looked back at her, though. Kept that knife visible like he didn’t want them to forget he was holding it.
“What do I want? Strange question, dear. I mean, how about what do you want?”
“Don’t fuck with us,” Hannah said. She didn’t say much, but when she did, she was straight to the point. Emma kind of liked her. “We know why you’re here. We know why weirdos like you are always here. Can’t get what you want any other way. So you sneak into rooms with a knife in a world where you don’t have to worry about law or order. So go on. Why don’t you just be straight and honest? You’re a creepy, pervy nonce. Face up to it. Admit it. Hell, good for you, you dirty pervert. Be your fucking truest self and all that.”
The man’s eyes twitched, just a little. He didn’t seem to like the accusation.
But his yellow-toothed smile didn’t falter.
He turned his gaze to Emma.
“What’s your name, dear?”
Emma felt sick, but she kept her fist tensed. “It’s none of your business—”
“Emma, right? I think I heard one of the guys talking about you, actually. Said you were a real freak. One hand, or something?”
Emma’s cheeks flushed. As much as she tried to keep her strength, embarrassment washed over her. Made her feel like a weak little girl again.
He walked towards her slowly. Stopped just a few feet away from her. Crouched down. Looked into her eyes. Stinky warm breath covered her face. “Don’t be shy, lovey. I’m a friendly guy, compared to the bulk of our people.”
“Leave her alone,” Hazel said. Her voice shook. Her eyes were wide with anger.
The man barely even looked at Hazel. He just stayed there, knife in hand. “We’re just having a conversation. Ain’t that right, Emma? So why don’t you come close to my ear here? Why don’t you whisper exactly what you want most in the world right now?”
Emma’s jaw clenched.
She didn’t want to do anything to risk hurting anyone.
But at the same time… she didn’t want to feel weak.
She leaned towards his ear.
“I want to slit your dirty nonce throat,” she whispered.
And then she clamped her teeth around his ear and bit down hard.
The man cried out right away. She tasted blood. The ear was like a piece of meat between her teeth, getting closer and closer to falling away under her grip.
And then Emma felt a smack against her left cheek, and she fell towards the floor.
She lay there for a few seconds, dazed. She looked around, colours filling her vision.
The man stood there holding his bloody, torn ear.
Still smiling. Like a sick part of him had enjoyed it.
“Damn,” he said. “You really are a nasty freak, aren’t you? Well, my dear. I like that. Really. But unfortunately for you, someone’s gotta pay for doing this. I can’t just walk out of here like this and act like nothing happened. But you… I think there’s a lot more fun to be had with you.”
He looked at Mary.
Walked over towards her.
“I’ll take out the ugly one first. Get her out of the way.”
And in an instant, he lifted his knife and cornered Mary.
Emma lay there on the floor. Her heart pounded. She saw this man standing over Mary, who crouched there so defencelessly, and she knew she had to do something.
She couldn’t just stand by and allow this to happen.
She looked around for something she could use. A weapon. Anything.
But there was nothing in sight.
And that man was getting closer to Mary.
“Keep still, honey. The less you struggle, the easier this’ll go.”
Mary cowered out of his way.
Hannah and Hazel tried to step up to this man, to fight him.
But every time they did, he turned the knife on them.
Emma looked around again. There had to be something she could use. She was on the floor. He thought she was down. He’d underestimated her.
But there was nothing around she could see.
She had to work with what she had.
And all she had was herself.
She stood up as he got closer to Mary.
And she ran as quickly as she could towards him as he lifted that knife.
She held her breath, and she flew into his side.
It all happened so quickly.
The knife fell to the floor.
Emma grabbed it in her one hand.
She spun around and looked down at the man as he perched on his side.
Eyes wide.
Smile wiped from his face.
She stood over him. Knife in hand.
“I’ll show you exactly what I want,” she said.
And then she rammed the knife into his right eye.
She dug it in as far as she could go. Kept on pushing until she burst his jelly-like eyeball. Kept on pushing as blood oozed out of his skull.
She stood there and stared at this man on his knees as blood pooled down his face.
And she felt something different, now.
She felt strong.
She looked around at Hazel.
She looked at Hannah.
She looked at Mary.
And then she pulled the knife from the man’s skull and let him hit the floor.
“Come on,” she said. “We’re getting out of here.”
Chapter Ten
Susan tried not to focus on the pain too much.
Or the gradual weakness building in her body.
It was late afternoon. The snow had eased. Bright sun beamed down from above. It made her think of summer. She couldn’t believe that it was only earlier in
the year that she’d been set to depart on holiday with her friends. How different her life was then. How minuscule her troubles seemed in comparison to now.
She wasn’t the same person as she used to be. That was for sure.
She thought about last winter. The bulk of her Christmas holidays had been spent panicking about a spot on the end of her nose. It’d appeared right in time for the night out Anne-Marie and the others had planned. She knew she was being ridiculous. It was barely noticeable.
But it was still noticeable, as “barely” as that might be.
She tried not to face up to why she’d been so keen on looking her best, though. She hid that like she always did.
She tried to repress why she struggled so much trying to impress Anne-Marie. And why she was so cautious when Sophie arrived on the scene.
“You coping okay?” Pete asked.
Susan turned around. Pete walked by her side. They were heading down a country lane now, spiralling away from Barrow. It felt wrong, in a way. They’d been so close to some kind of hopefulness, some kind of salvation. And now they were marching away from it.
But when it was their people at stake… that was more important than anything.
She staggered further down the snowy, icy road. The pain in her torso was bad. Of course it was. She’d been stabbed there three times. Barely any time had passed.
Not only that, but she was starting to feel sick. The kind of sick you felt when you were coming down with a bad flu. She tried not to focus on it too much. She couldn’t let it hold her back.
She knew she should be in a hospital bed. She knew she should be resting at the very least.
But beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“I’ll live,” she said.
Pete sighed. A little frost dangled from the tip of his nose. “That’s what I’m worried about. You might not.”
“Well don’t worry. Worry about yourself. And worry about how the others are going to be when they see you come walking back into their lives.”
Pete looked away at that. Susan knew it was harsh. He was doing a selfless thing. Whatever he’d done in the past, he deserved a second chance.
“Sorry,” Susan said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Pete shook his head. “No. It’s fine. I mean, you’ve got a perfect past. No skeletons in your closet at all. Nothing you’re hiding whatsoever.”