by G. P. Moss
As I will Alice to open her eyes, they flicker, once, then again, until opening fully. She manages a weak smile with lips that are dry - without saying a word, I place a little water on them, before my gaze locks on to her faded but still beautiful eyes.
It's an enormous struggle for her to speak but she tries her hardest to get the words across, in a voice so soft, it's barely audible.
"I waited...until you came, love. I knew you would come. I am so sorry, darling, my Alex."
"I won't go again, love. I'm so proud of you, Alice. We'll start again, somewhere new, somewhere safe."
She motions for me to come over, kissing me gently on my cheek.
"It hurts, love. I am sorry, I waited for you to tell you...I love you, Alex. Do not be alone, love. I am so happy I met you."
"I love you too, sweetheart," I say, my heart in pieces, Alice's soft hand losing its fragile grip as she slips away, finally free from pain.
*
I kiss my wife on her lips and forehead, hardly believing she's gone - it's a waste of a beautiful person, living a wonderful, productive life. I don't want to be angry but I am.
I'm furious at the corporate arrogance and greed of the so-called elite that passed the laws to allow this to happen. I'm enraged at the thousands who gleefully bought the shares to turn a fast profit, not once thinking of their children or grandchildren and the devastating mess they'll have to clean up - if they survive.
Most of all, I'm disgusted at myself - for standing by and letting it happen, for choosing a job that constantly took me away from the love of my life, and for not being able to protect her. Most of all, for that.
I kiss Alice's cool hand before Sister Maria leads me away. Alice wanted to be buried - while two Sisters prepare her, I head outside, in the cold night air, to find a suitable place for her to rest.
*
I walk alone, with a spade from the manor house and my flashlight to guide the way. A small apple orchard, largely unaffected by the earthquakes, sits to the northern edge of the large gardens. Choosing a spot with plenty of space between the mature trees, to avoid disturbing the roots, I start to dig.
The sweat from my working body turns as cold as the ground as hot tears fall, mingling with the earth that will take my Alice.
Chapter Twenty-Five
As three Sisters and I lower Alice into the ground, the dark sky allows a thick beam of yellow light to squeeze through its blackness - it's gone in a moment but it's enough to briefly show the pain on the faces of those around her grave. The women give thanks for her life as I remain silent in grief - there'll be time in the future when I have much to say, but for now, I'm grateful for the Sisters' kindness, compassion, and practicality.
While I fill in the earth, medium and large sized stones are collected to cover the mound - it's not perfect but nothing can be, compared to her. Nothing will be good enough - not now.
"Au revoir, my darling Alice," I say aloud. Never goodbye - despite her death I couldn't bear it, not yet.
As we turn to leave the orchard, heavy rain batters us, without warning, as we hurry back to the house. Sister Maria passes me a poncho to take to Anne, still patrolling the perimeter as Evie takes a break to grab some sleep.
"I'm sorry, Sir, Alex, I mean. About your wife."
"Thank you, Anne - I appreciate it."
I do. I'm grateful her death is mentioned - I need it mentioning until this self-pity leaves me.
Hailstones are dominating as I run, returning to grab my own poncho - Anne shouldn't be left alone to do this - it's early morning now and she's been here all night.
*
"Alex!"
The shout brings me running as I'm slinging my arm through the second shoulder strap of the sack, both shotguns already out. I hear different shouting now, a collective roar, as six tattily dressed men, in suits that are ripped and grimy, charge towards Anne. She shoots two in the chest as the others change direction, straight towards the shotgun I'm already aiming at them.
The first blasts take only one as I drop the weapon, exchanging it for the sawn-off. Another's down but I've missed two as they're on me, decking me with their crazed momentum. As their breath threatens to make me sick, one falls back from a bullet in the gut, shot from a handgun straight through my jacket pocket. The guy on me now is big, a real heavyweight, pinning my arm, making it impossible to reach the gun. As his filthy, grubby hands grip my neck, the side of his head explodes in a mess of bone and blood.
Anne stands to the side, her hand shaking now. As soon as she knows I've seen it, she holds it steady, bringing the gun arm down, still stiff with tension.
"Thanks," I say. "So, you were confident you wouldn't hit me?"
"Top of my class for marksmanship."
It's not an answer but I'll take it anyway - she probably saved my life.
Sister Maria's warning voice crashes through the hailstones as I'm brushing mud from my trousers. Looking up, I call Anne back but she's already running as a horde of at least fifteen Subs are leaping and ramming their way through the hedges at the southern boundary. The older Sister has her hand out as I reload the weapons.
"Are you sure, Sister?"
"Hurry up," she snaps. "Just give me a handgun and snap off the safety - I'll do the rest."
There's no time to discuss the benefits of an armed nun - we need all the help we can get. Evie's joined us now, checking her weapon as she slams the thirteen-round magazine back in with a reassuring snap.
Four of us are armed. We set off in a line, spaced just five feet apart - we need them to fall in front of us - we can't afford friendly-fire casualties with a defence force this small. A Sub, veering to his left, falls in a scream of rage as he takes a bullet from Sister Maria's Hi-Power. I take out two, within a couple of seconds, as Anne and Evie fire in a controlled arc as the Subs sway, stagger and fall as the solid, smashing rain hampers their progress.
Within two minutes, they're all down but the sight of many more, away to our right and heading around the manor house, causes my heart to hammer in my chest. We're too far out now to stop some entering the building. Giving chase, we race towards the house, slipping on the sodden, disturbed ground, trying to avoid the many craters, courtesy of the quakes.
The house is already a mess, full of screams, both violent and terrifying as I locate the attacking Subs, one by one. As they receive the bullets, they're still trying to smash the place to pieces - we've lost the three patients to the attack already.
As a bullet takes out a Sub, busy ramming a Sister's head against a bedroom wall, I'm smashed around the head with a piece of lead pipe, ripped from the ancient, broken central heating system. Grabbing his arm until it snaps under the pressure, he releases the metal, screaming in my ear as his nails from his good arm rake into my side. Pushing him away, I point the Browning at his head, ending his short reign of terror as my finger applies more pressure than necessary on the trigger.
Overturned candles have set bedding alight as flames spread throughout the house, climbing temporary boards that easily add to the spread of fire. Anne and Evie are checking rooms but it's quieter now, the only sounds the relentless rain, banging on the damaged roof like a persistent, malevolent drum. The rain coming through the damaged areas is eliminating the fire but we can't stop it elsewhere.
As the Sisters grab as much gear as they can, we've no choice but to abandon the house before we burn, or become victims of a building collapse - what the earthquakes failed to do first time around, these Subs have managed, in their pursuit of murder and destruction.
Chapter Twenty-Six
We're a determined group, carefully arranged but moving fluidly, a small army of plastic-coated ponchos, trekking back into Eastsea. I take the front, discussing our immediate plans with Sister Maria. There seemed little point in travelling deeper into the countryside, at least until we know what's out there - so far, the evidence suggests there's nothing good.
Anne is in the middle of our line, constantly on
the alert for trouble from any direction. The Second Lieutenants are welcome allies, as they clearly put their rigorous training into practice - like the rest of us, they would never have believed they would be facing a possible civilisation-ending catastrophe. Evie's job is to guard the rear - as I occasionally check on our group, she looks like a seasoned war zone patrol officer, her tall frame moving confidently, despite the driving rain.
At Eastsea, we'll search for a new base. We discuss the hotel but it's still private property, regardless of the breakdown of civil norms. Sister Maria would like to be close to a natural water source - the Sisters are already skilled healers and between them have plenty of experience, here and overseas, of turning bad water into good, using a mixture of some basic science and plenty of intonation, gratitude, and prayer.
If the water's the source of this devastating, murderous virus, then any method's fine with me - in this new world, having an open mind and adaptability will be the only way to survive.
As we pass the entrance to the small estate that Alice and I once called home, I glance briefly before sending the image of our lovely house away. It's rubble now, and even if it was standing, I don't think I could bear to visit it again - we nurtured that house together, forging a home of love and contentment.
*
A sharp scream, further back to my left, jolts me from the unwelcome, unhelpful thoughts of self-pity. Turning quickly, I'm in time to see a solitary Sub fall immediately on landing this side of the hedgerow, the enraged man taken down by a single, accurate shot from Evie. Returning my focus to the front, I'm confident we'll be okay - the only thing bothering me is the realisation that at some point, we'll run out of ammunition. Wherever we end up, we're going to need a sustainable means of defence.
Closing in on the town, the roar of waves is audible over the slowly diminishing rain, the hard, silver streaks losing their intense shine as it slows its deluge - the softer soaking is a welcome change from the drenching that accompanied our walk from the manor house.
The scene emerging from the storm-darkened sky is of a ravaged town - the sparse rows of small, ancient terraced houses and tiny shops, the only buildings surviving as they lean together in collective strength. And, of course, the hotel, a beacon of defiance, staring down the waves and shrugging off the storm.
"We will try the hotel - we need a decent base to heal from and to help others," Sister Maria tells me, her small but authoritative voice cutting crisply through the sounds of sea and rain.
"Okay, Sister, we can try but I'm not betting we'll be welcome," I say, knowing it's a pointless remark as she replies, snapping her answer to force home the finality of her decision.
"Alex, I am against gambling and I will do my best to convince them of the benefits of having us here."
We approach the side door, where I left the woman and child following the attack by her husband.
Sister Maria raps on the boarded door with tense, white knuckles as the rest of us wait, highly vigilant in case of attack.
There's no answer.
Putting her mouth close to a thin crack at the side, the Sister projects her voice, loudly but without demands, simply stating who we are.
"I am Sister Maria. Along with a few companions, we seek shelter following the destruction of our house."
It's brief and to the point. I hear footsteps before a woman's voice answers.
"Sister, I'm sorry. The people here are traumatised and we have very little food or clean water. It's best if you find somewhere else. I'm sorry."
"I understand that, dear. We can help each other. The Sisters and I are willing to share our food and blankets, and we have two young ladies and a man from the military who have already saved us from a dreadful attack. We will not bother you but we can help with food, water, comfort, and security. Please, dear, let us join you - it will benefit all of us."
I can hear another woman, a younger voice this time, speaking to the lady at the door - the second voice sounds like the one with the child. I pray that she's putting a good word in for me, if she's guessing I'm one of the group - yes, I saved her but I also made her child fatherless.
It seems like a long time before the woman speaks again - as I glance at the others, we look like we're holding a collective breath.
"I'm going to open the door but please be quick - it's a nightmare out there and we can't take any more stress."
I let out a deep, audible breath as we prepare to enter the hotel.
Evie shuts the door behind us, before sliding home the bolts and moving a heavy bureau against it. If enough Subs decide to attack, we'll need better defences than that. As the kind woman shows us the spaces that aren't occupied, I look around at the decaying splendour of a seaside hotel that was once famous for its opulence and hospitality.
Right now, despite its faded looks, it feels like the greatest place on earth.
Sharing our bottled water with the others, I speak to Evie and Anne, regarding our need to replenish the hotel’s dwindling supplies. Very soon, we’ll need to return outside, and to start with, they won’t be reconnaissance missions – it’ll be grab and run. This is how we’ll begin the slow climb back up the ladder of civilisation.
Epilogue
Along with Anne and Evie, I've had to eliminate diseased Subs and Hounds each time I'm out foraging for supplies. It's giving the surviving townsfolk chance to construct a huge perimeter fire, marking a new boundary for Eastsea. The Sisters are already healing the water, resulting in a sharp reduction of home grown crazies wanting to murder us.
The hotel has its own barrier, a circle of reclaimed timber, tree branches, and anything else that'll burn well - all secured with thick plastic sheeting, ready to create a fire defence if the main perimeter is breached. Our initial haven is the one vital building that must be protected at all costs, serving the reduced and desperate population with disease-free water each day.
Outside of Eastsea, extreme danger is everywhere. I go out alone, searching for people, and empty houses, for anything that will be essential for the survival and future prosperity our community. We're under siege but the town pulls together - at least on the surface.
I know there are problems but Sister Maria deals with them in her own way - behave or we will cut off your water supply, I know is her preferred approach. It may seem like blackmail but we're still at war, with a guerrilla force that's lost its mind, made up of Subs and Hounds following a base, chemical agenda. They're unpredictable and sometimes it feels like a losing battle, like we're treading water. We're alive though - it's a great start.
As the challenging days and weeks have slipped easily into months, the hotel has changed organically, into a dedicated water purification centre, with Sisters working around the clock to meet the town's needs - Sister Maria has her office there and quietly but efficiently, administers the physical and spiritual health of the micro population. Not everyone is happy but cooperation is essential - a breach of the boundary will have a dramatic, disastrous effect.
There have been some unsettling events, including a mother being killed as a suspected Sub. Another resident claims it was an excuse to murder her but lack of evidence for this means we don't know the truth - I'll keep a watch on him when I can but at present, we don't have an official police force or courts system. We're starting from the beginning - natural leaders will eventually emerge but vast amounts of energy and effort are used in covering basic defence needs and providing safe water.
The few houses that are habitable are being patched up and secured - there's enough accommodation for the culled populace. As the dark sky slowly allowed in some light, the devastation was worse than any of us imagined – ripped-apart streets exposed the deep remains of shattered pipelines, further weakening the fragile foundations that surviving structures clung onto, despite the huge forces of nature piled upon them.
Evie and Anne are receiving instruction from Sister Maria - she needs Sisters who can heal and fight, an unusual concept that would raise more
than a few eyebrows in the higher echelons of religious society. There's no-one around to tell her not to do it though, and it makes sense, so long as the two arts can be separated, not one diluted at the expense if the other. Sister Maria calls it 'switching'.
That remarkable woman, full of surprises, has a fascinating life story behind her, I just know it. Before joining the Sisters, she was at the Sorbonne, in Paris - that's all I know and I know it's all she's ever going to tell me. She calls me a 'maverick' and I suppose she's right but it works.
I can't be hemmed in, mulling around, treading water in a town afraid of its own shadow. I roam, sometimes too far but usually with success - weapons and foodstuffs, tools, and severe weather gear, often found following an attack by Subs - living in their smashed-up squalor after killing the occupants.
I'm disciplined but I follow my own rules, far from my military training, though of course it helps when I'm in the skirmishes with the crazies. They're a symbol of the catastrophe, the 'mess', that, one way or another, we all helped create. They ceased being human once they drank the water - I can't help that.
Killing them is easy for me.
The Hounds are worse - the speed at which they attack is astonishing and frightening and I have the scars to prove it. Eradicate them and the world will be much safer. The world? Is there anyone left beyond our shores? No aircraft, no ships, or communication of any kind - absolutely nothing since the day Mercy was born.
I wonder if she survived.
Evie and Anne have also spent time making sure we have a couple of houses, away from the hotel, which we can use for storing weapons and other necessary, valuable equipment that we distribute with discretion - while there's a real need for defence, not everyone in this town can be trusted with a gun.
Anne's house is extra special. In the cellar are tunnel entrances - ancient smuggling routes that miraculously didn’t collapse during the earthquakes. One leads out to the south, the other, to the north-east, hooking up with the military bunkers, one of which contained the bodies of the three soldiers I found. These secret passages are perfect for me - the less people know of my travels, the better. I always go on my own, sometimes for many days, occasionally for a week or more.