“Yeh, same.”
Petrol and diesel, as it happened, began to degrade after about three months, and was totally useless after six months. All journeys from that point on were made on foot or by bicycle.
I set the broom aside and leaned back against the enclosure fence. “Rebecca was convinced it was just us.”
Nate sighed. “In the end, that’s what I believed too.”
I touched his arm through the mesh barrier. “I refused to believe it. I was sure there had to be someone else out there, and I was right. I still think there are even more people out there somewhere. In Europe or America, maybe here too. What if there are people alive way up North? Or in London?”
He gave a slow nod. “I don’t know. Even if we had a running car, I’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Believe me, I tried.”
“Well,” I grinned. “You weren’t so hard to find.”
He glared at me. “It was luck. Astoundingly good luck. Especially since you never even saw any of my messages. This place doesn’t exactly stick out.”
“Well, I guess that’s why it’s called Siren Bay. It must’ve called to me.”
Nate laughed. “You know, I always wondered whether I should’ve picked a more obvious location to stay in. Like Bristol or Southampton or London. But I knew this place was my best chance of survival.” His eyes flashed with sadness then. “Besides, I really thought people would see the messages I left.”
I shrugged again. “Maybe it is just us then.”
He looked down at the ground and spoke so softly I could hardly hear him. “I wouldn’t mind that.”
My face burned. “I’m sure I’ll start to get on your nerves soon enough. You’ll be wishing for alone time again before you know it.”
“I doubt that, Halley.”
I smirked. “You don’t know me.”
He frowned and looked back up at me. “Yeh, well, that’s the odd thing—I feel like I do know you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked as I opened the gate of the chicken run and slid out before the hens could follow me.
He rubbed his eyes wearily. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s hard to describe.”
Truth be told, there was something about him that felt familiar to me too, although I was certain we hadn’t met prior to the apocalypse. “Maybe we met in a past life.”
“Not a big believer in past lives.”
I pursed my lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know what I believe in anymore.”
He finally smiled. “Me either.”
Bad recollections of the past now pushed aside, I offered to make us something to eat while Nate carried on with the chores. I went into one of the outbuildings where the excess food was stored to see if anything in there would inspire me. After perusing the shelves for a few minutes, I located some spices and a tin of tomatoes and carried them back to the kitchen. This evening, we’d dine on vegetable chili with rice.
At home, after the apocalypse, cooking became my responsibility. At first, with no fresh ingredients available, I made simple meals, but we quickly grew sick of hot dogs and tinned spaghetti, and it wasn’t long before Rebecca decided to plant a vegetable garden. She also managed to snag us some chickens which had been roaming around on one of the nearby farms. They should’ve all been gobbled up by hungry, wild animals by that point, but—as my aunt could testify—these ones were particularly feisty, and fast runners too. Besides, the lazy foxes had begun to favor the towns and cities, scavenging on the dead.
As it happened, cooking for my stepfather day in day out had taught me a thing or two about making tasty meals—if I served up something he didn’t like, it’d go straight in the bin, and then I’d have to cook him something else from scratch. Even if what I cooked was what he’d asked for in the first place. My aunt wasn’t so critical, allowing my confidence to grow, and I quickly became more creative with our dinners. My flavorsome, spice-infused vegetable chili was one of Rebecca’s favorites. Hopefully, Nate would like it too.
When ready, I scooped it out into bowls and carried them outside on a tray, along with some drinks. I sat cross-legged on a little wooden bench and watched Nate finish up his current chore—a leaky water butt which proved a pig to fix, judging by the continuous stream of swearing I’d heard.
“This is good. Really good,” Nate said, after hungrily spooning the chili into his mouth.
I smiled. “Thanks.”
“Secret family recipe?”
“No. Mum wasn’t much of a cook.” And, boy, did Andrew chastise her for it.
“You don’t talk about your life much,” Nate said. “Before the virus, I mean.”
“Not much to tell. My mum died when I was fourteen,” I answered, staring straight ahead.
“Sorry.”
I mechanically uttered my well-practiced response. “It was her heart.”
“And then you went to live with your aunt?” he inquired.
He’d spoken a lot about his life before the end of the world, while I’d said very little about my own existence before the apocalypse.
“I lived with my step-father until I was eighteen. Then I left. We didn’t get on.”
Nate nodded, watching my face closely. He must’ve noted my obvious discomfort because he didn’t press me any further. He licked his lips and wiped a smudge of chili sauce from his chin. “Well, I could get used to someone else cooking once and a while.”
I beamed. “I guess I’ll have to stay a bit longer then.”
****
Before…
I’d managed to get a job waitressing at a café in town so I could give my aunt some money for letting me stay with her. She said it wasn’t necessary and that I should just focus on college, but I knew money was tight and wanted to ease the burden a little. Luckily, I’d been able to transfer to the ‘Indian Queens sixth form college’ to finish up my psychology course.
On the days I wasn’t at school, I worked from early morning until early evening, four days a week, which included the weekend. My boss let me catch up on college work during the quiet period between lunch and dinner as long as all the cleaning and any other jobs had been done. I’d get home at around seven-thirty most nights, cook dinner, then fall asleep on the couch well before ten PM. It was exhausting, but I didn’t care—my life was finally my own.
Sometimes, I hardly saw Rebecca. She worked full time, managing a small food outlet in a motorway services, six days a week with Sundays off. We’d chat over dinner, but she’d always go straight to bed after, leaving me to my devices. Everything was so different from how it’d been living with my stepfather, who’d gone out of his way to be an ever-present influence in my life.
Unfortunately, as the saying goes, ‘all good things must come to an end.’
A few months ago, the boss—a woman in her fifties who insisted I call her Lorna—had fixed a small television to the wall behind the bar. It served mainly as background noise, showing the twenty-four-hour news channel all day long unless Lorna’s son switched it over to one of the music stations when she wasn’t looking. However, one rainy day in November, we all found ourselves glued to an unfolding news story.
We’d only had one customer come in for breakfast so far, an elderly man—a regular—who always ordered coffee and a bacon sandwich while he sat for two hours reading the paper. Even he took notice of the grim-faced anchor-man reading the news that morning.
“John. F. Kennedy airport in New York has been closed for forty-eight hours while officials from I.D.R.I.S investigate reports that over a dozen people are seriously ill in hospital after a flight from Tokyo was granted permission to make an emergency landing. Three passengers took sick during the flight and were rushed to hospital shortly after landing. We have now received reports that several other people have become unwell, including gate staff who had not been on the flight. A statement from I.D.R.I.S is imminent.”
“Not again,” Lorna muttered as she wiped down the vinyl stools by the bar.
Ther
e’d been a few serious outbreaks in recent years—an Ebola crisis in South America that killed over a thousand people, an overly vicious strain of the flu in Europe, leaving hundreds dead, and a measles epidemic in Australia that claimed the lives of fifty children. A new, global agency by the name of I.D.R.I.S (International Disaster Response and Infection Stratagem) had been created for the sole purpose of dealing with it all, rather than leave it to the overburdened local authorities. Airport closures were rare, though.
Lorna huffed and spritzed the air with anti-bacterial spray. “They always over-react.”
I shrugged, feeling somewhat uneasy.
Our one and only customer grunted and shook his head. “Better safe than sorry, no?”
Lorna wrinkled her nose and carried on disinfecting the bar area, scrubbing meticulously at the veneer worktop. She checked her watch for the third time in as many minutes—Jamie was late again. Nothing new there.
He strolled in half an hour later, a coat thrown casually over his shoulder and dressed in ripped jeans that Lorna had repeatedly asked him not to wear at work. She probably would’ve fired him by now if he wasn’t her son.
“You’re late,” she snapped.
“I overslept.” He gave her a wry smile and ruffled his platinum blond hair, winking at me with big blue eyes as strolled into the kitchen. Jamie enjoyed staging little rebellions against her, but he never did anything too consequential. He wasn’t stupid.
Technically, I was his girlfriend, although we’d only gone out twice so far—once to the cinema and once to the local pub where he’d introduced me to his bandmates. He played the drums and drank shots of neat vodka between sets. Jamie described his style as ‘indie’ and spent hours bleaching his hair to the gray-white he preferred. But, despite his epic level of cool and devil-may-care attitude, my initial attraction to him was waning fast.
At least once a day, he’d do something to get my blood boiling. He’d be rude to a customer who didn’t deserve it or get snarky with one of the other waitresses if they got an order wrong. His attitude sucked. But, away from work, he became an entirely different person; funny, friendly, and attentive. For this reason, and because I was lonely, I’d agreed to a third date.
“It’s not just New York,” he said as he re-appeared, tying an apron around his waist. “My mate’s in Sweden. He says there are loads of people out there with it.”
Lorna frowned. “Then why isn’t it on the news?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, a little offishly. “I only spoke to him for a minute. His girlfriend is sick, and they were on their way to the hospital.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” I replied, not knowing then how very wrong I was.
All good things must come to an end…
A week later, I went into work as usual only to find a sign on the front door that read, ‘Closed due to staff illness.’ No one had called me, and so I tried several times to get hold of Jamie, but he didn’t answer. In the end, I left a message on his voicemail, asking if he was okay.
That night, I’d just started dropping off to sleep when my mobile rang with an unknown number.
“Is this Halley?” It was a man’s voice, deep and gruff. “This is Stewart. I’m Lorna’s husband. I’m sorry, she asked me to call you as she’s not doing too well.”
I swallowed anxiously. “Is she sick?”
The voice cracked. “Yes.” There was a pause. “I’m sorry, Halley, but we lost Jamie this afternoon. Lorna thought you should know.”
He hung up.
I stood frozen with the phone to my ear, hoping this was a bad dream.
It wasn’t.
Chapter Six
After…
For the rest of the afternoon, I helped with whatever I could. Nate and I bantered back and forth on a variety of subjects, most of which were no longer relevant: reality television, the former government, favorite movies. Despite our eleven-year age gap and different backgrounds, we had a lot more in common than I expected. He also made me laugh, and it was all too easy to forget about the bad stuff when I was around him.
It didn’t take me long to realize I was falling for him, even though it seemed ridiculous—how could I feel this strongly about someone I’d only known for a few days? Still, the butterflies in my chest refused to quit their incessant fluttering, a feeling that was quite alien to me.
Sure, in high school I’d developed the occasional crush from time to time, but the closest I’d come to feeling anything more than that was with Jamie. We’d bantered and indulged in a little flirting for a few weeks, and then he’d asked me out to see some weird indie movie at the cinema. After the movie, we’d shared the briefest of goodnight kisses.
For our second date, he’d invited me to watch his band play at a local pub. Afterward, we’d grabbed a takeaway to eat in his car and listened to his favorite rock playlist on the stereo. This time, the goodnight kiss lasted a full minute.
Had the world not ended a few days later, things might’ve gone further between us. Or not. I’d never been completely comfortable being alone with Jamie, even though I trusted him. Even though I knew he wasn’t like Andrew.
What about Nate? Did I trust him? His chivalry last night was enough to convince me his intentions were good but, even before that—from the moment I’d arrived here—I’d felt safe. It made no sense.
“Halley?”
“Yes?”
He chuckled. “Lost you for a minute there.”
“Sorry. I was miles away.”
He suggested we call it a day on the chores, so we downed tools and went inside to clean up. My clothes had completely dried, and so I gave him back his t-shirt before showering. I changed into a short halter dress—not an overly practical outfit for riding a bike, I’d quickly discovered. Being lightweight, I’d packed it, but the low-cut neckline had left my breasts exposed to the sun, and I’d ended up with a crimson chest for three days.
When I wandered back into the lounge, Nate was fiddling around with an old record player. He glanced up at me and then gave me a wry smile.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I stammered.
He told me to pick out some music from a box of records while he showered. I leafed through the collection, only recognizing about half of the artists. It must’ve belonged to his parents because it consisted mostly of rock music from the seventies and eighties—unless it was Nate who harbored a secret penchant for power ballads and guitar solos.
In the end, I selected at random and carefully slid a record by the ‘Blind Temple Lions’ out of its dust cover and gently placed it onto the turntable before setting the needle down. The speaker hissed before a sudden blast of electro-rock rattled the turntable.
When Nate returned, he’d put on a pair of smart, black chinos along with a fitted white shirt.
He motioned to my dress and grinned. “I felt under-dressed.”
I laughed nervously, trying not to gawk. “Are we going to dinner? I hope you made reservations because I think there’ll be a long wait.”
He shrugged, smirking. “Damn, I forgot. We could go dancing?”
“No!” I said sternly, with a vigorous shake of my head. He stuck out his bottom lip and held his hand out to me.
“Fine,” I relented, letting him pull me up from the floor. “But I can’t dance.”
He twirled me around and then pulled me into him quickly, putting a hand on my waist. “Me either.”
He really couldn’t. In between having to dodge his clumsy feet to save my bare toes, I laughed so hard I almost cried. We paused mid-album to catch our breaths and rehydrate, first with water and then with a couple of wines. Blaming the quick tempo for his dire sense of rhythm, he changed the record to something more mellow.
As we slow-danced, the gap between our swaying bodies gradually closed as though we’d become magnetized. I stared up at him and found myself transfixed. It was only when his hand tightened around mine and he leaned in toward me, did I realiz
e we’d stopped moving. A moment later, his lips met mine with urgent, yet tender kisses.
Just as I’d begun to kiss him back and match his fervor, he pulled away abruptly, a look of contrition on his face.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
My heart raced so fast. I couldn’t speak. Had I found the words to tell him I wanted this too, things might’ve gone differently. Instead, his sad eyes searched mine for a moment before he hastily switched off the record player.
“It’s late,” he muttered. “I’m tired.”
I reeled a little. “Nate—” was all I managed to say before he cut me off.
“Goodnight, Halley.”
He quickly left the room, marched up the hall, and slammed his bedroom door, making me jump.
Waiting for my nerves to steady, I stood alone in the lounge for a few minutes. I could still taste him on my lips. My insides felt hollow like my soul had been torn out. Why had he stopped? Because of last night? Because of my stupid reaction?
Confused and frustrated, I went to bed and curled up under the quilt, pulling the fabric up over my head so I could cocoon myself away from the world. Hugging myself tightly, I laid there in the dark void until I finally fell asleep.
****
My night was unsettled.
Every time I woke up, I kept ruminating about what’d happened with Nate and replaying the kiss over and over in my head.
Needing to clear my thoughts, I got up just before sunrise and walked down to the beach. For a while, I sat on the sand, digging my feet in and lifting them out to watch the golden particles pour off my skin and back onto the ground. When the sun finally came up, I wandered further along the bay to watch a group of seagulls catch fish. When I lifted my head back and closed my eyes to bask in the sunlight, my thoughts drifted quickly back to Nate. In fact, he was starting to be the only thing I thought about.
We had a connection; it was undeniable. And, for me, it was something that went beyond physical attraction. I felt pulled to him. Even now, there was a growing ache inside me because we weren’t together. But, did he feel the same way? Or, had I finally lost the bloody plot? I hoped it wasn’t the latter.
As the World Falls Down Page 8