by Ryan Casey
I smiled. And I saw Sue smiling too, and then Remy, and Jenny, and Hannah, and the kids were laughing.
“The longer we run from the truth, the more danger we put ourselves in. We need to step up now. All of us. We need to be willing.”
“Willing for what?” Sue asked.
I felt my heart racing and that urge I’d had all my life to step back into the background rising again.
But this time, I didn’t let it take hold.
“Willing to fight,” I said. “Willing to survive. Because from this point on, that’s all there is left.”
Chapter Forty-One
Garry wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking, only that he was certain he’d have to find some kind of safe place soon or he might not last much longer.
The walk had been intense. The sun was descending. He preferred the darkness. He wasn’t sure why, exactly, just that it probably went back to when he was a kid. He used to hide under the stairs when his dad got home. He’d turn the lights on, shuffle his way as far under as possible, past the stacks of canned food and right to the back, where he was sure no one could get to him. Where he was too small to be reached.
Sometimes, his dad would know where he was. He’d try to get in there by pushing the cans against him, so he was pressed right up to the bottom of the stairs. His dad would laugh at him, telling him he was going to suffocate in there, but Garry never minded at all. He didn’t have that same claustrophobia that apparently so many people struggled with. He felt solace in the darkness. Respite.
Some days, he’d spend all day under there. He’d eat the tinned peaches, open a little carnation cream and treat himself to it, even though his dad was stomping around the house, the threat of his presence constantly looming large.
But the saddest thing? The darkest thing?
Garry would always have to come out from under the stairs eventually.
And when he did…
“Garry?”
He shuddered, his attention returning when he heard the voice. When he turned around, he saw Mitch beside him. Mitch was looking thin. Sure, they had some food, but all their walking was taking it out of them.
And Garry knew that the longer they walked and the longer they stretched on without electricity or power, the longer they’d be free. But also, the longer that time stretched on, the more danger he and the people around him were in.
Mitch pointed down at his feet. “My feet, mate. I… I don’t know how much further I can go.”
“You’re giving up?” Garry said.
Mitch shook his head. “Not giving up. I just… I dunno how much further I can go. We should rest up. Go again tomorrow.”
“And when we go again tomorrow? What then? You think your wounds will be healed? You think everything will be back to normal.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You need to wake up, all four of you. You need to face it. When we’re out here, it’s going to be difficult. It’s going to be impossible, even. But if we want to survive—if we want to flourish—we are going to have to do a lot of difficult things.”
“Easy for you to say,” Mitch muttered.
Garry turned and looked at him, frowning. “What did you say?”
Mitch lowered his head a little like he was trying to escape the spotlight. “Nothing.”
“No,” Garry said, stepping closer to him. “I want to hear what you just said. I want to know what you meant.”
He stood right opposite him, now. He could smell the sourness of his breath, taste his sweat in the air. He could hear him breathing shakily. He knew he was weak. He didn’t like weakness. It was a detestable property.
“Look at me,” Garry said. “Look me in the eye and repeat what you just said.”
After a few seconds, Mitch did look up and looked Garry right in the eye.
“I said it must be easy for you to say. Seeing as you’ve already killed people and done shitty things.”
Garry smiled, then. He could feel the old prison order returning. He, the one who others bowed down to; the one others feared. He preferred things that way. He preferred being respected because he was someone who stood up and took control, and he liked it that way.
“You’re right,” Garry said. He put a hand on Mitch’s shoulder and felt him flinch. “It does come easy to me. And really, when you look at it, it should come easily to you, too. I mean, you’ve had all the practice in the world, being locked up inside. You’ve seen people’s inhumanity towards one another. And yet still you choose to squirm.”
There was silence between them. But Garry could feel Mitch’s heart picking up in pace.
“So are you strong enough?” Garry asked.
Mitch nodded, with uncertainty.
“Hey,” Garry said, slapping Mitch’s face. “I asked you a question. Are you strong enough?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Yes!”
“Good,” Garry said.
He took his hand off Mitch’s shoulder.
Mitch had no idea that Garry’s other hand had been on his knife, just in case.
He looked at the rest of his people, all four of them. They looked worn down. They looked like they’d been through hell.
But they had to be ready for what was next.
“Any others of you having problems knowing whether you’re strong enough?”
They all looked at him with uncertainty.
And with fear.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” a couple of them said.
Garry exhaled, and he smiled.
“Good,” he said. “Then we make our way to this safe zone. And when we get there, we blend in, and then in time, we take the place for ourselves.”
He looked around at the setting sun, and he prepared to continue his walk onwards.
He had no idea he was on a collision course with another group.
Another group he’d clashed with before.
Another group he was looking forward to settling the score with very, very much…
Chapter Forty-Two
The next day, for the first time, everything felt good.
The mid-morning sun was shining brightly. Up ahead, I could see a nearby suburban village. Part of me wanted to go down there and explore it, because ultimately, not everywhere had gone to hell. That just couldn’t be the case. It was something I wasn’t willing to believe or to accept.
But whatever the case, we had made our decision.
And this time, it was a whole-hearted decision.
We weren’t looking for some kind of shortcut anymore. We weren’t seeking anyone who could magically make things better for us. We knew there was little chance of finding another safe zone, and if we did find another safe zone, there was a good chance it wouldn’t offer much in the way of respite or security, just like the other ones we’d found.
We were taking responsibility for ourselves.
I was taking responsibility for myself.
“So what’s the plan?” Hannah asked.
I looked at her, and I smiled as Lionel trotted alongside us. I saw Hannah was smiling, too. Her dark hair was swaying in the gentle breeze. She looked good. It was the first real time I’d actually acknowledged someone else looked good since the death of Harriet. I felt like I was betraying Harriet, just by having those feelings.
But I’d remembered what we’d said when we’d both had a conversation a long time ago about the big “what if?” something happened to either of us. Of course, the conversation had been light-hearted, not totally serious, but there had been a twinge of seriousness to every conversation like that.
“Well, you’ll just have to become a nun, won’t you?” I’d said.
She’d punched me, grinning at me with that gap-toothed smile. “You selfish git.”
“So you’d really be so happy me just finding someone else myself?”
“Of course.”
I’d frowned. “Really?”
“Well, don�
�t get too many ideas just yet, mate. But obviously. If she made you happy, then that’s what I’d want for you.”
I’d leaned in, kissed her, tasted her lipstick. And as we’d lay there together, I’d really felt like the pair of us was forever. “I don’t want anyone else,” I’d said. “I never want anyone else.”
Hannah clicked her fingers. “Hey. Snap out of it. What’s up with you?”
I looked around at my surroundings. I must’ve zoned out. “Sorry. I just…”
“I asked you what the plan was now we’ve opted for the lonely wanderer route?”
“Well,” I said, eager to get those thoughts of guilt and betrayal from my mind. “I was thinking about what I’ve seen on TV shows.”
“Factual stuff? Like Bear Grylls?”
“Not exactly. You know, the prisons could be a good place to head to.”
Hannah scoffed. “Prisons?”
“Think about it. What’s the first thing prisoners do when the power goes down?”
“Smash skulls?”
“After smashing skulls.”
“Well, escape.”
“Exactly. So we’ve got a load of these well-defended buildings all across the country, all empty and waiting for people to inhabit them.”
“Yeah. You’ve definitely been watching too much television.”
“It’s just a thought,” I said. “Besides. Haz says it could be a good plan.”
“Haz has watched too much television and played too many video games.”
“But he knows his stuff,” I said.
Hannah shrugged. “I guess I can’t deny that.”
“Where is Haz, anyway?”
I walked back to the rest of the group, past Remy, past Jenny—who we still didn’t know a thing about—and past Sue and her kids. Haz was lingering behind.
“What’re you up to?”
“Making a compass,” Haz said.
He put a needle on a magnet. Then, he put a strip of foil on top of a cup of water—which I argued was wasteful for a few seconds until he said we could drink it anyway. He lifted the needle off the magnet and then placed it on top of the foil. The needle and foil spun around and pointed to our left.
“Pretty cool, right?” Haz asked.
I nodded, pleased to see Haz confident, and in his element. “Pretty cool. I just…”
Haz’s face dropped. “What? What this time?”
I wanted to say “how do we know that’s true north?” Instead, I decided to let Haz just have his moment. “No. It’s great. Good job.”
At that moment, it felt like Haz and I were closer than we’d been since meeting. It felt like the pieces of this group were clicking into place—even if Jenny was still a bit of a mystery. It felt like there was solidarity between us all; like, despite sacrificing some of ourselves by accepting our fates—that we probably weren’t going to be saved—we were freer than we’d ever been.
I turned around to Hannah and went to rejoin the front of the group, keen to show her what I’d learned.
I saw someone else was there, standing right opposite her.
Another group. Five of them.
“Well well,” a voice said, and I realised right then I knew this voice after all. “Fancy seeing you again, ‘Scott’. I’m Garry. Pleasure to formally meet after our two little run-ins.”
There was no denying it.
It was the prisoner who’d killed Jason.
And he and his people were all holding weapons.
Chapter Forty-Three
I stood opposite Garry and looked into his eyes, and he looked back into mine.
The clouds were forming over the sun, foreshadowing impending doom. Or perhaps it was just the coincidental turn of the weather. Perhaps there was nothing more to it.
But somehow, it felt timely.
Hannah, Haz, and Remy stood by my side. Sue stood further back with Jenny—who was still not up to strength just yet—and the kids. There was a silence about the place, both our group and Garry’s group. There were four people with him, one of whom I recognised from the stand-off with Jason, and the incident in Derek’s house. I didn’t know what had happened to Garry in his time on the road, what might have happened to him. I didn’t want to think about it, not really. Not with the look in his eyes right now.
And Sue still didn’t know this was the man who killed her husband; who left her children fatherless.
“So,” Garry said, his intense stare shifting into something resembling a smile. “Where you folks heading to?”
He asked it as if it was no issue at all; like we were old friends just catching up with one another after a long time of absence.
“We’re heading our way,” I said, standing my ground, holding my hands in fists. “You should head yours.”
Garry smiled like he was carefully considering my words, weighing them up, searching them for hidden meaning. “Yeah. Yeah, we are. But I think it’s pretty beautiful that after all this time, all this distance, it’s back to you and me again. Right?”
I felt my heart racing. The old me screamed in my ear to step aside, to give up, to stop staring Garry in his eyes.
But the old me’s voice wasn’t as loud anymore. Not after the things I’d done. Not after the way I’d watched Derek fall, then the way I’d shot Garry’s friend.
Not after the incident at Margery and Bill’s house.
“You see, the last time we saw you, you made it even, if you remember rightly. One each.”
“What’s he talking about?” Sue said. “What does he mean ‘one each’?”
“Oh, hello,” Garry said, leaning around me and acknowledging the rest of the group for the first time. “I don’t remember seeing you last time. You were there, though, right? When your friend here shot one of my people?”
“You said you made it even,” Sue said, determination in her voice. “What do you mean by that?”
“Sue. Leave it,” I said.
Then I saw Garry looking between me and Sue, the cogs in his mind turning once again as he tried to add things up, as he tried to work things out.
I hoped he wouldn’t. I prayed he wouldn’t make the link.
But then I saw the shift in his eyes, and I knew he was onto it.
“Oh,” he said, a smirk stretching across his face. “Oh, shit!”
“Scott, what’s he talking about?” Sue asked.
“Don’t,” I said to Garry. “Please.”
Garry chuckled a little. Then he went to walk around me, towards Sue, towards her kids.
I don’t know what possessed me to do so, but I stepped in his way and pressed my gun against him.
He stopped, just inches from my face. I could feel his breathing getting more rapid. And his face didn’t have that comical look anymore. He looked genuinely threatened by the way I was standing up to him.
“Don’t,” I said. “Just go your way, and we go ours. We’re even. Like you said.”
Garry tilted his head to one side and smiled. He lifted a hand, put it on my gun. “Oh, Scott. You see, I’d love for that to happen. I really would. But I’m not used to getting even…”
Then, he lifted a knife and pressed it to my neck. His face shifted completely.
“So why don’t you tell her? Why don’t you turn around and tell her and her children what happened back at the house?”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. I wanted to push back, to fight.
But I couldn’t.
I just couldn’t.
I turned around. I looked Hannah in the eyes, first. I couldn’t get a read on her.
So I looked past her and at Sue. At her two kids.
I saw them looking back at me, and I knew this was the moment their innocence was going to disappear, what with what I knew, with what I’d done.
“Sue,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Scott?” She said. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I—”
“Scott here ducked when I swung at your dear husband,” Garry i
nterrupted, yanking the gun rapidly from my hand. “And guess who just so happened to be standing behind his cowardly back?”
More lack of understanding.
More confusion in Sue’s eyes.
Then she dropped to her knees, and it clicked.
“No,” she said.
And I expected to see that grief take over her once again.
But it didn’t.
Instead, she started running towards Garry angrily, the second of our remaining guns raised.
“No!” she shouted.
I tried to step in her way, to stop her. “Sue!”
But it was too late.
One second, she was flying at Garry.
The next, Garry was turning his knife to her.
I didn’t watch as she landed on it. I couldn’t hear anything but the screams of her children anyway.
But when I turned around, when I came to my senses, Sue was on the ground.
Garry wiped his blade on his coat, then picked up the gun that had fallen from Sue’s hand. He looked over at me, and he smiled.
“Now, we’re even,” he said.
Remy was on his knees. Hannah looked mortified. Haz was crying.
I was on the verge of giving up.
But as I watched Sue’s children run over to her, as I saw the pain and the lack of understanding on their horrified faces, I felt something take over me.
That word, again.
“No,” I said.
Garry turned around. As did the rest of his people. “What?” he said.
I stood up. Took in a deep breath. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a penknife.
“I said no. We’re not even.”
The next thing I knew, I was swinging the penknife at Garry’s neck.
Chapter Forty-Four
I swung the blade at Garry’s neck and waited for the blood to spurt out of it, with no feelings of shame, no feelings of guilt, no feelings of fear, not anymore.
But nothing came out of his neck.
Nothing, because he raised a hand and batted the penknife away like it was nothing.
Then he punched me in the gut.
I fell to my knees, winded and crippled. I gasped for air as my knees squelched in the dirt. I didn’t want to give up fighting. I didn’t want to give in to this bully.