by Hall, Andrew
‘Get up,’ she mumbled to herself, still holding the knife out where the dogs could see it. She fought the blackness back from her vision, and dragged her body away through the bloody silver puddle. She staggered up to her feet, clutching her side in agony. At least the bleeding had stopped, for the most part. There was still a gouge above her knee that was taking a while to close. Wild-eyed she hobbled away, then realised she’d left her rifle. She limped over to it in a shell-shocked daze, slung it over her shoulder, and staggered away across the precinct. Still felt her heart racing. Still stamping down the tears and the terror. Tabitha never took her eyes off the dogs as she went. She made sure that they always saw the knife; that they knew what would happen to them if they followed her. They had to see the knife.
11
It was a chilly night. Tabitha spent it in the town library, two storeys up. She huddled down in a nest of coats on a pile of giant beanbags, where she gave herself permission to cry. Long-drawn sobs took over her body, shaking her by the shoulders. She wiped the tears from her eyes with her wrists, and looked out at the night through the window beside her. The feral dogs and silver spiders wouldn’t find her up here. She hoped. Maybe that’s why she’d picked the quietest building she could think of; a library. So she’d hear them coming. It was ridiculous logic, now that she thought about it, since every building in town was silent as the grave. But there was something more comforting about a library, really. More so than an office or a shop. A library was meant to be quiet. It was meant to be empty, more or less. Huddled in the corner beneath the window, high above the streets in her beanbag nest, Tabitha felt a little safer. The building was old, and the ceilings were high. She wasn’t especially warm, but the coats kept what heat she had close to her body. She felt more at home here, surrounded by so many words on the shelves. Like there were still the spirits of people in this place. Lying back and hugging herself tight, and pulling her mum’s note from her bra to hold it close, she even managed to fall asleep.
There was a scream a couple of streets away; a man’s scream. Tabitha woke with a jump. She couldn’t see anything through the window. The night sky was clouded over; the darkness was absolute. She heard a second scream, even louder than the first. It was the sound of terror distilled, launched desperately into the night sky above a dead world. She staggered up from her nest. She had to get down there and help him. The third scream was cut short though; a life ended, just like that. Tabitha sank back down into the corner, and cried into jackets that smelled like people.
She didn’t sleep the rest of the night. But she couldn’t head outside either. Not if she’d be running and hiding from the spiders in the dark. Since she’d woken at the sound of the scream, Tabitha had been searching for something to take her mind off it. It was probably a good idea to start training, she thought, dragging herself from her idle melancholy. She had to be strong if she wanted to survive, and not just an inner strength. A strong body was probably the best survival tool she could have.
Tabitha lay out in a press-up position and took her weight on her hands and toes. Pushed up off the floor and sank down again. Repeated. She’d never been one for press-ups and sit-ups before, but now they seemed to come so easily. She could feel lean muscles under her skin, tensing and relaxing. They felt alien to her, as strange as her new metal hands. With grunting breaths she pushed up, sank down. Pushed up, sank down. More press-ups than she’d ever done in her life, and she’d barely gotten her heart rate up. The action became a meditation. If she was going to survive in the world she had to be strong. She switched off for a while and just trained, lost in catharsis. By the time she stopped, trembling and sweating, the early summer dawn had turned the black sky pink.
Tabitha went book hunting once the sun was rising. Sunshine spilled in along the walls of books; dust drifting and rising in the light. When she reached the section she was after though, she found only empty shelves. Survival techniques, edible plants, the great outdoors… Every book had been taken. It looked like everyone else had had the same idea. She did find a cigarette lighter though, tucked away in an office drawer. It was old and cheap, a grubby piece of plastic, clear bright yellow. And instantly the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. It held the promise of fire.
Tabitha headed up to the floor above, searching for anything useful. When she saw the broken window though, she knew it was time to leave. Her eyes followed a trail of dusty dots from the broken glass across the ceiling, and rested on a spindly silver shape lurking in the far corner. Ok, it was definitely time to leave. Tabitha backed away quietly and headed for the stairs.
Outside on the street Tabitha squinted at the bright morning sun. She kept close to the buildings for safety, and headed down the main road. She shouldn’t have come back into the centre yesterday, she told herself. Probably better if she just got out of town, and tried her luck in the countryside beyond.
A couple of streets down she saw a fresh human skin in a blood puddle, wrapped and blowing around the base of a lamp post. It must have been the screaming man from last night. A big man, judging by the loose clothes that dressed his skin. A shape moved in the window across the road. She was surprised to see a dog sitting there in the office window, a border collie, barking soundlessly behind double glazing. Was it as wild as the others had been? Or had the empty skin on the road been its owner?
‘It’s alright,’ she told the dog, walking over to put her hand on the glass. But the dog wasn’t barking at her – it’d moved to see over her shoulder. It was barking at something behind her. Tabitha turned around. A spider leapt on her and forced her down to the road. She pounded her fist into its head, over and over. It was larger than usual, and stronger. She grabbed its stabbing tongue as it slid out. Had to wrestle it away from her face. Her skin could heal quickly, but she didn’t rate her chances if that spike went in through her eye socket. Holding the stabbing tongue at bay with her left hand, she smashed the spider in the head with her right. Fighting for life. Hitting it over and over until it staggered for a moment. Tabitha growled with the effort and threw the spider off her chest. She leapt on it and slammed her fist down, cratering its head. She pulled the knife from her belt and drove it in through its metal skin, and the thing dropped dead on the road. She stabbed it again. Again. Over and over. Exhausted, Tabitha raised her knife up and hesitated. The bleeding spider wasn’t moving any more. She slumped down on the road to catch her breath. Her arms were killing her. Maybe she shouldn’t have done so many press-ups last night. Staggering to her feet she went back to see the dog in the window, still barking at her. She wandered over to the front door and turned the metal handle with a tired shaking hand.
The collie was staring at her down the office corridor when she walked inside. It wasn’t barking any more, just whimpering. Hesitating, but wanting to come closer. Producing the stray digestive biscuit from her hoodie pocket, Tabitha sealed the deal.
‘Come here, it’s ok,’ she said softly, crouching down. She kept a hand on her hunting knife, just in case. The dog padded over, tail wagging. It didn’t seem all that wild. It took the biscuit eagerly and crunched it with rapid chomps off the carpet, licking up the crumbs. When Tabitha held out her hand, the dog came close and sniffed at it. It was confused by the metal smell. Tabitha offered the pale skin of her arms instead; her face. The dog sniffed at her keenly, and licked her mouth. Tabitha spat, smiled, and suffered the licking. The dog came closer, tail wagging. Soon Tabitha was grinning, holding the dog back in its excited hello. Peering round the back, it looked like a girl. The round name tag on her collar read LAIKA.
‘You’re a softie, aren’t you?’ Tabitha said happily. The dog wasn’t much more than dirty black and white fur on a scrawny frame. Breath that smelled like warm rubbish. One brown eye, one blue. Both wide open and gushing trust. Tabitha spent a good while fussing over her, and Laika was happy for the attention. Tabitha was just happy to find something in the world that wasn’t trying to kill her.
‘You’re too ski
nny,’ Tabitha told the dog, stroking her soft smelly fur. A quick check of the cupboards in the staff kitchen revealed nothing; not a scrap of food anywhere. But someone had been here, and not long ago. Maybe the screaming man had lived in here, she considered. So hungry that he had to go out into the lethal night to find food for him and his dog.
‘I’m sorry about your owner,’ she told Laika, who waited patiently by her side with a sombre peace. She stroked the dog’s soft head. ‘I’m going to look after you.’
‘Stay,’ Tabitha commanded, sticking her head out from the front door to check up and down the street. Laika sat obediently, staring keenly. The dog took one whiff of the air outside, and licked her lips ready for a meal. Tabitha held her rifle and edged out onto the street, sneaking and glancing up at the windows for any sign of spiders. The road seemed clear, as far as she could tell.
‘Come on,’ she whispered. Laika obeyed, and together they stalked off down the street. Tabitha took them off the main crescent and down the side roads, where hopefully there was less chance of trouble. Another mile or so and they’d be out in the suburbs, away from the built-up centre. Tabitha peered around the corner of a brick wall, before heading out down the next side street. She froze at the sound she heard behind her. A cracking squelch; flesh and bone. A spider must have killed the dog. Tabitha reached for her knife, and took a couple of deep breaths for the fight. Slowly, she turned around. No spider though.
‘Oh Jesus, Laika. That’s disgusting.’ The dog was tucking into a dead rat, having sniffed it out and dragged it from an open gutter. Tabitha wouldn’t have minded so much, but there wasn’t much left of the rat that hadn’t rotted away. She could only watch in horror as Laika cracked its head loudly in her jaws. She dropped it to the road with a wet slap, and nipped the grey meat off it with her teeth.
‘I thought a spider had you,’ she told the dog. ‘Please can I find you something better to eat, before you do that again?’ the dog wolfed the last of it down and licked at the gore on the road.
‘You’re rank,’ Tabitha told her, leading them on down the alley.
They saw a spider down the next side street, on the far side of a full car park. It had its back to them. Laika didn’t make a sound. Tabitha held out a grey hand towards her, telling her to keep back. The dog hung around behind her, eyes fixed on the spider. She didn’t growl, and she didn’t go for it. As they stalked towards it, Laika stuck to Tabitha’s side. She couldn’t stop Laika’s pack instinct though, and when she attacked the spider so did the dog. Tabitha surprised it and killed it quickly with her knife, before Laika could jump in and get herself hurt. But at least the dog had her back; it was worth the risk.
‘Good girl,’ she said, crouching down to rub Laika’s sides. Immediately Laika started wagging her tail, and she was all too keen to lick Tabitha’s face.
‘Actually let’s not do that, please,’ said Tabitha, recalling the rotten rat as she stood up away from her dog’s affections. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re disgusting.’ The dog sat and looked up at her with mismatched eyes. ‘Diet aside though, you’re a much better bodyguard than my cat. Good job.’
They only encountered two more spiders before they made it out of the centre and into the suburbs. Both times, Laika had gone for the spider when Tabitha had. She tried to signal to the dog to hang back and let her deal with it, but Laika wouldn’t have it. Still, she was smart enough not to start barking and attract every spider in town. Tabitha relaxed a little once they were clear of the shops and offices. The silence didn’t seem so heavy out of the centre. There was only the creaking sound of her boots, and the clawed padding of Laika’s paws on the tarmac as they headed out of town.
‘Look, Laika.’ The dog’s ears pricked up at her name, and she stared into Tabitha’s bright eyes. ‘No, look up there, up the road. I’m going to find you some food.’ Tabitha pointed off to a petrol station in the distance. Laika’s eyes didn’t follow Tabitha’s pointing hand, but she smacked her lips all the same.
‘Yeah, you know that word,’ Tabitha said with a smile, as Laika’s tail started to wag. They walked on down the road towards the looted petrol station, past rows of reddy-brown terraced houses. A plastic meerkat statue stared at her from a dark window; a vase of dead flowers in another. One window had a small statue of a wizard on the sill, and a dragon holding a crystal beside an ashtray. Every window was dark and dead; every living room an empty murk inside. Tabitha hurried them on a little faster past the houses with open doors. She didn’t need to guess what might be lurking inside. In a couple of minutes they were getting close to the petrol station down the road.
‘So, do you think there’s any soap in there? For both of us?’ said Tabitha, sniffing her armpits through her t-shirt. ‘Seriously, I’m trying not to gag at the smell of us. To be honest, if it wasn’t the end of the world, I don’t think we’d be walking this close together.’
12
‘Come on,’ she told Laika, creeping inside the petrol station shop. The place had already been looted of everything useful, more than once from the looks of it. Searching the shelves though, she was surprised to find a couple of tins lurking at the back. Beef stew, cheap and nasty. She wasn’t surprised it’d been left unscavenged. It looked disgusting, and she had no appetite anyway. Laika was interested though; she started barking at the prospect of real tinned food.
‘Shh! Bad girl!’ Tabitha whispered. She looked up over the shelves to check the forecourt for any sign of spiders. Laika fell quiet, staring at the tin. Tabitha cursed when she saw that there wasn’t a ring pull to open it.
‘Looks like you’ll have to wait a bit longer, until I can find a tin opener,’ she told Laika. ‘Sorry.’ Wait, why did she need a tin opener? Squeezing hard, she sank her metal fingers into the tin lid. Ripped it open. She scraped the smelly stew down into a sloppy pile on the tiled floor. Laika wolfed it down faster than Tabitha thought possible.
‘Just keep quiet and eat your food,’ Tabitha told her, looking around the empty shelves. ‘And don’t make yourself sick.’ Laika finished it quickly, hacked, and threw it back up again.
‘Told you,’ said Tabitha, looking away from the sick. When Laika sniffed around it and started eating it again more slowly, Tabitha gagged and had to walk away. Looking around the rest of the shop, there was practically nothing left on the shelves. Half the magazines still lay untouched on their racks, though Tabitha had to wonder who in their right mind would loot the other half in the first place. A style magazine was torn and sprawled across the floor in tatters, ripped up into rodent nesting. Flawless models grinned and pouted from the torn pages, half hidden under rat shit.
Peering over the shop counter, Tabitha saw that the till had been prised open and emptied.
‘Seriously? Stealing cash at the end of the world?’ she asked the till, as if it held the answers. She took the weight of the rifle from her shoulder, and put it down on the counter with a wooden clunk. Checking the shelves, she couldn’t find any soap or shampoo. There wasn’t much of anything left on the shelves; just a couple of car sponges and adaptors. In truth she hadn’t expected there to be anything to wash with anyway. But it would have been nice not to smell her own sweat for once.
‘How’s it going over there, dog face?’ she called over the shelves. Turning the corner, she saw Laika licking up the last traces of food and vomit. ‘Well, you’re disgusting, but I’m glad you’re not hungry any more.’ Laika padded over and nuzzled Tabitha’s hand.
‘You’ll have to eat the other one now, if you want it,’ she said. ‘I’m not carrying your food around for you.’ Laika didn’t need much convincing; her tail was sweeping the floor where she sat when Tabitha produced the other tin from the shelf. She cracked the tin open and peeled it apart to empty it on the floor. Again Laika was straight in, letting the last chunks drop down on her head as she was eating.
‘You’re so thin,’ said Tabitha, brushing the gravy off Laika’s head while she ate. She could trace the dog�
��s ribs against her fingers as she stroked her side. Tabitha felt her tiredness weighing her down, putting a slow numb filter on everything.
‘We’ll have a rest for ten minutes after you’ve finished, ok? But then we need to get going. I don’t want to be around here when it gets dark.’
Tabitha yawned and searched the shop one last time, closing the metal shutter over the shop front against the world outside. She couldn’t find anything to drink in the place. There was an office and a tiny bathroom in a section off behind the till, but the sink tap shuddered loudly and puked brown sludge, just like everywhere else. Once Laika had finished eating she followed Tabitha into the small office. The collie didn’t need much convincing to huddle down next to her on the floor, resting her head on Tabitha’s thigh.