by VK Gregory
‘Maybe’ he didn’t sound convinced,
‘And if that’s true, then it’s okay, isn’t it? To die. We’ll meet back there, and everything will be like it was,’
‘Everything?’ he raised his sunken eyes to mine. I felt a hot blush flood my cheeks.
‘Well, maybe we remember, I don’t know. I just don’t know,’ and did I want to remember? I knew Danny for who he was now, but did I want keep that knowledge or did I want to go back to his fake world, a world where I could never know the real him. ‘Maybe we just die Danny, you and me. But I believe, I know, there is something after this, there has to be.’ There must be, a mantra I kept humming to myself. There had to be something more.
This could not be everything.
The end of humankind.
I woke to a quiet house, the sound of silence deafening to my ears. I sat for a while in the loneliness of the house, haunted by his empty chair, waiting. But the minutes stretched on and I needed to do something. There was no one to see me, but still I tried to dress, pull on some tatty trousers which were far too large, and a top which hung on my shoulders, falling to upper arms when I moved. I searched the house, taking in rooms upstairs that I’d never seen before. One room was filled with bottles of alcohol and cigarettes, many empty. This was Danny’s domain. I closed the door. He was not in the house.
I had to find him, the loneliness was unbearable. I walked out the door, hit by a wall of freezing cold air, I shuffled slowly down the unfamiliar street, looking for signs he had been here. As I side-stepped one particularly grumpy-looking statue, man, I slipped and fell off the kerb, twisting my ankle painfully underneath me, and landing with my arm on a broken bottle in the gutter.
‘Shit’ I half-whispered as I saw the blood dripping down my arm, I was too tired to stand up again,
‘You okay?’ relieved I looked up. But it wasn’t Daniel, it was Dean. He stood tall, blocking out the sun, his kind face naturally concerned but bitter and angry too.
‘Yeah, just fell,’ I was cautious but he held out a hand to me, and then seeing I wouldn’t be able to pull myself up, he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me to my feet. Gently lowering me to sit on the kerb, ‘thanks,’ my voice trembled in fear and exhaustion as he looked at my arms and the blood that was dripped from my elbow. I smiled weakly, ‘It’s fine,’
‘It looks bad, you could get an infection,’ he sat down next to me,
‘Well, I’ll find antibiotics if I need to,’ he nodded, looking closely at the wound,
‘Where is he?’ I pulled my arm from his hands, clasping my hand together,
‘I don’t know,’ but I knew he didn’t believe me, ‘that’s why I’m out here, looking for him,’ he pushed out his bottom lip thoughtfully,
‘But you’ve seen him recently,’ it wasn’t a question, so I didn’t deny it,
‘I’m just looking for him. All right?’ I was protecting Danny, and Dean knew it. He knew it from the look in my eyes, the way I held my arms close, not touching him,
‘So am I,’
‘Please don’t Dean, just go. Enjoy your life,’ he laughed,
‘Enjoy? What’s to enjoy? He killed my family, this world is a stinking cesspit of death,’
‘I don’t know, but we’re the last humans still moving. Let’s not make it end in violence,’
‘He’s already done that, I’m just ending it before he does any more,’ I wished I’d worn a jumper or cardigan, the winter sun offered little warmth, and my body shivered with its lack of fat, I rubbed my arms, feeling the tiny bumps on the skin,
‘You look ill, Katy,’ he looked over me and I nodded. He looked tired, and he looked thinner. He was dying too, but he probably didn’t even realise. Not yet.
‘It’s this place,’ I shrugged, my shoulder joints aching as I moved them, ‘it’s like we’re just fading away,’
‘It looks like you’re starving,’
‘Yeah, you are too,’ I pressed my hands between my legs for warmth,
‘I don’t feel starving, I feel hungry,’
‘You will,’ I looked down as he stared at the thin bones of my arms, the jut of my collarbones, and the deep dark circles on my face,
‘Are you eating?’ he asked, genuine concern reaching through his anger and pain, I hesitated,
‘Not any more,’ I stood up then, using all my energy to force my knees to support me, but even then, my legs wobbled under me, threatening to crash my back to the gutter where I would surely die, ‘I’m done with this world,’
‘What does that mean? You’re done.’
‘I’m done fighting death; it’s happening either way. Just leave us alone Dean. Let Danny and I die together, it won’t be long anyway, look at me, he’s the same,’ I turned to go, wanting to get back to the warmth of the house, so badly craving warmth,
‘Hey,’ he gently touched my arm, and his hand was warm and comforting, ‘come with me’
‘What?’ his face had lost the hard edge of violence and anger, now sadness filled his dark eyes,
‘I’ll leave Danny alone, but you have to come with me. We’ll go, I know how to sail, we’ll take a boat, go far away, and live out our lives in peace, just the two of us,’ images of warm sandy beaches, of Dean’s protective arms and no more fear of Danny filled my cold, dying mind. For a second I wanted to agree, I almost turned to him and cried ‘yes.’ I could almost taste the salt of the sea. But there was Danny. I thought of him dying alone. I thought of never seeing him again. I thought of all our moments together and I knew my answer. I had made my choice. I pushed away from him,
‘No, I’m dying, there is no life to live out, leave us alone, please,’ I turned to go, sad and accepting,
‘You still love him, after everything?’ I shuddered, the cold boring into my bones,
‘It’s complicated,’
‘He’s a murderer,’ the vision of all the livingstatues I had killed came back to me,
‘We aren’t that different, not really,’ Dean stared at me with incredulous eyes, the fury and violence filling them once again,
‘You deserve more,’ but he stared at me with the acceptance of someone who knew he had lost,
‘Just go Dean. Get on that boat, get away from here, from us, live a life on a tropical island in peace,’
‘I’m coming for him, Katy. Don’t get in my way, I don’t want to hurt you, but if you try to stop me—‘ he raised his eyebrows and left the rest unsaid as I walked back around the corner, the blood leaving a trail behind me. Part of me wanted to turn back, accept his offer of a new life, but my legs carried me forward. Back to the house with the red door and my life with Danny.
When he returned at last, he never even noticed I had gone.
Over the next couple of days, he seemed restless. Staring out the window for what felt like hours, he wouldn’t respond to my questions, even my touch. I would wake in the night and see him lit up under the moonlight, the glint of metal by his arm. His backpack always by his side.
‘What are you waiting for?’ I asked for the hundredth time that day, as if I didn’t already know the answer,
‘Vesuvius,’ he said at last, cryptic and silent as he sat, shotgun in arm’s reach. I pretended not to notice. I tried not to think. But time ticked on, the moving hand of time, that seemed to push us closer and closer to the edge of a cliff. Our inevitable deaths the only promise.
Until I woke, one velvet night, my legs frozen with cold and weakness, my eyes blurry from sleep. And Danny was not there. Once more his chair stood empty and lifeless by the dwindling coals of the fire. For a while I simply lay there, listening to the beating of my heart, too tired to move. Wondering where Danny had gone, I began slowly falling back to sleep. But voices woke me, far off angry voices from the street. It took me a moment, then I knew. At last it was happening: if Danny was talking to someone, it had to be Dean. I stood up, shivering uncontrollably as the blanket slipped away. The last words Dean had said to me ringing in my ears. I needed a wea
pon.
I reached for Danny’s red and blue backpack, which lay by his chair. I knew he had a knife hidden in there. But as I reached inside, my own hand rested on the unfamiliar cold of slippery metal; in my hand I held a small, silver handgun. I stared at it, wondering where he could possibly have found it, but suddenly thankful he had.
With the gun in my hand, feeling unfamiliar and heavy, I cautiously opened the front door. Under the milky droplet of moonlight, I could see two figures on the road, facing each other. One was obviously Dean, the other had to be Danny. I quietly walked out. I did not want to be seen. I did not have a plan.
I crept down the street, hiding behind walls until I was close enough to hear conversation, but far away enough to not be detected,
‘You will pay.’
‘You deserved it, you prick,’ I recognized Danny’s voice instantly, he stood a metre or so from Dean, his face in shadow.
‘You killed innocent people, you think that’s okay?’
‘You kissed my girl, did you think I would just let it go?’ Danny smiled his half-smile of arrogance
‘That doesn’t make murder okay,’ Dean sounded edgy and frustrated,
‘Go home. I’m warning you,’
Dean didn’t hesitate, he started walking with speed and purpose towards Daniel, his towering height and bulky physique overpowering him. He marched forward, swinging a thick metal bat in his hands, his face contorted in rage and grief. Dean, who had lost so much at Danny’s hands, and Danny, the man I had chosen over and over again. How would I choose this to end?
Daniel clearly hadn’t expected such a direct confrontation and he paused, seeming to hesitate, turning a little as if he considered running. He was not foolish with his life, but his pride made him stop and he stood, waiting, watching. In his hand, I saw the glint of something long and metallic and my stomach lurched, he did have a weapon after all. But what was a knife to a large metal bat, wielded by a man a good few inches taller than himself,
‘You killed my sister and my nephew,’ Dean bellowed towards Daniel, not even hesitating for a second as he was within striking distance, ‘not to mention hundreds of other people,’
‘Cheaters deserve everything they get.’
‘It was one kiss, nothing more. And she’s isn’t yours. You don’t own her. You murdering son of a bitch, you’re going to die,’ as he approached Daniel he lifted the bat to swing it at him, and my hands instinctively went to my mouth to hide the gasp of fear. I wanted to shout to Danny, warn him but I could only crouch there and watch the scene unfold like a spectator. The bat nearly hit, it was so close, and I was sure Danny would die, but of course he was ready. I should never have doubted him. He ducked down, beneath the swing and then grabbed the bat from a startled Dean, his thick hands letting go out of surprise.
‘You’re going to die,’ Danny’s voice was thick with his smug ego, but Dean was bigger, stronger and uncowed. I could see it unfolding before me. Danny. My Danny.
The cold of the metal in my hand felt prophetic. It warmed to my touch, as if moulding beneath me. I felt like I had always held this gun in my hand, its smooth curved trigger beneath my finger, the arc of the handle in my palm. This gun had been waiting for me all my life. For this moment.
My Danny. Sweet Dean. The scene before me slowed, as if waiting for my decision, needing me to choose. Do I let him kill Dean? My Danny, my reality.
The shot rang out loud and piercing, ringing in my ears like the squeal of tires on a slick road.
Danny fell, his body slumping forward as Dean staggered back in disbelief. The gun in my hand was hot and spent, the promise long gone.
‘Danny’ I cried, throwing the gun to the ground, hearing the loud thud as it hit concrete and skidded across the road. I wanted to take it back. Take back the choice. I was breathing through desperate tears as I ran to him, ignoring the sight of Dean kneeling, shell-shocked, on the road some distance away.
Danny lay on his side, a blush of red flowing outwards onto the road. The knife in Daniel’s hand lay next to him, stark red and stained. He made no sound as I reached him, no cry as I knelt to the road, lifting his light, starving body onto my lap. His familiar head slumping emptily to the side as blood bubbled at his airless lips, frothing and hopeless.
I screamed into the night, tears blurring my vision, tears that became rain, sudden and cold and like a sheet of water. It flowed down my cheeks, dripping from the end of my nose, splashing playfully in the puddles of Danny’s blood, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry Danny, please’ but my words fell on dead ears. The spot of red was a flag on his front, mingling with the rain that drenched his shirt, the hole in his chest ragged and fleshy as his life force trickled out, staining his clothes and saturating the road beneath him.
‘Danny boy’, Tears fell, mingling with the blood as he died in my arms, my regret as strong as the bullet that had killed him. ‘I love you’, the last vestiges of life leaving him, ‘Goodnight Moon,’ I whispered as his body shuddered beneath mine, his chest gasping through one last desperate moment of clinging to life before it fell. Forever still.
I stayed with him. His body growing cold in the night, dripping with pink rain that flowed from his chest to the road. His skin paling. I stroked his hair and I cried and I remembered. My tears were slow as I sobbed, my regret endless. I didn’t even feel the rain.
Eventually I came back to the present, lowering his body to the ground and standing up, the rain lighter now, but I was already water-logged and cold. It was only then I saw Dean lying on the road in the distance, and the significance of that slick red knife that lay by Danny’s side. I picked it up, the rain had washed away much of the greasy blood, but enough remained, cold and sticky in my hands. I had been too late. Danny had died for no reason. I walked to Dean, thinking he was already gone, until a moan drew me closer. Quickly, I dropped next to him, looking at his face,
‘Katy,’ he whispered, clutching at his stomach which was as red as Danny’s stomach. Beneath him he painted the road with his own personal shade of red, a dark pool forming around him, the rain water spreading it like a red river down the road, into the gutter. I stared at it. I could not save him, a doctor might, but I was just me.
‘I’m sorry. I was too late,’ he released a husky laugh,
‘The fight was mine,’ he stopped to moan in pain,
‘He’s dead,’ I wiped a tear from my face, smearing my cheeks with blood.
‘I’m sorry,’ and he meant it. He lay here, dying at the hands of a cruel and guiltless man, and he was truly sorry for my pain,
‘Why?’
‘You loved him,’ he was honest and I wept silently at his understanding and kindness,
‘I can’t save you,’ I sobbed as he gasped for breath,
‘I know,’ he reached out a hand and took mine, somehow he was comforting me, instead of me comforting him, ‘it hurts, Katy,’ his whisper wavered with pain, he squeezed my hand, writhing and moaning
‘I’m sorry,’ I squeezed back, his blood mingling with Danny’s,
‘Help me,’ he pleaded,
‘I can’t, how?’
‘Help me go, please,’ He was asking he impossible.
‘I can’t, I can’t, don’t make me,’ but his eyes were filled with relentless pain as he died, but not fast enough,
‘I need you Katy, please,’ his breath was short and gasping as I reached for the knife. Holding the glossy handle and staring at the blood-stained blade. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t end a living-person’s life, couldn’t stab this knife into him and watch him scream in agony,
‘Dean—’
‘Please,’ I could not let him suffer. His dying was limitless; his death could be swift.
‘I’ll get the gun’, the gun would be quicker, easier, less personal. But the thought of holding it again in my hands, knowing it had killed Danny made me sick,
‘Don’t leave me, please,’ and his bravery melted away. Just a little boy, begging for comfort and release. I lea
nt over and kissed him, his lips cold and wanting, then I plunged the knife into him, seeing the blood flowing through my fingertips, dropping like thick oily rain to the ground as he cried out. My hand slipped and the blade sliced into my palm. My blood, Dean’s blood, Daniel’s blood, the rain from the dark sky. We were all one. I felt disconnected, far away, as I struck again, plunging the knife into his stomach once more as I screamed, and then over and over. Punctuating him with a thousand full stops to end his story.
Dean died beneath me. His finality written by my ignorant choices and my relentless love for a man who felt no guilt, and no sadness at his actions.
As I knelt next to him, crying no tears but feeling total bleakness, I felt a rumble, a sensation deep down beneath my knees, an ominous growling deep in the earth as I knelt on the road. And then a flash that lit up the sky. Was it lightening? But the thunderous growling was not thunder, the earth was shaking, not the sky, I looked up from Dean and my blood-stained hands, and the remnants of my humanity. Staring in bewilderment with a pitless feeling of horror growing in my fearful, tired bones.
The mushroom cloud filled the sky above me like a hideous fungus. I had never seen it before, but I knew it well. The awful spectre of radioactive dust, rising into the air, poisoning the earth beneath it and all who lived.
It was over. For me, for every single person living in this town, for miles around. That cloud spelled the end of any hope of returning to normality, if I’d had any left. And I was alone. Utterly, unreservedly alone. There was no one to turn to, no friendly hand to grab, no one to tell me that things were going to be okay. No one even to die with anymore. In all this wide world. There was just me, and I stood at the end of humanity, with blood-stained hands and a guilt-stained heart. I looked down at my hands, and the blood crusting on them and I felt bile rise in my throat. I wanted to scrub my hands until there was no blood left. I wanted to bleach them and scrub away the guilt of murder and the coppery scent of death. I hastily wiped my hands on my top, but one hand was bleeding and it just bled more.