by Ryan Casey
I couldn’t let him die. Because if I let him die, that’d be letting all knowledge of my wife’s location die, too.
That wasn’t something I was willing to let happen.
I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. I looked right at Bouncer, pulling him close.
“This isn’t gonna be easy, lad,” I said, stroking his head as he licked my face. “But we’re gonna have to go out there. You might… you might see some things. Some nasty things. But don’t worry. They can’t hurt you.”
I smiled, just for a second, at the cruel situation.
“And here I am, reassuring my dog when it’s me who needs the reassuring.”
I stood up. I felt slightly dizzy, slightly weak, as the memories of what I’d witnessed outside replayed in my mind like a horror story.
One moment, we were standing there, stunned by the flesh in the carrier bag. Stu’s flesh.
Then next, bullets were piercing our people.
I thought about their attack on our people. They’d killed some of them, which, sick as it was, surely meant that was meat and food wasted.
Then I realised they didn’t really need every single person here. Just enough to get them by.
And if they had this place, if they had Heathlock, they had our supplies too.
And they could draw more people here.
That was the fear.
That was the horror.
Maybe Andy was right. Maybe we did have to defeat these people.
But shit. One step at a time. First, I had to get to Olivia. I had to get Andy out of that cell. And then we thought about the next step.
If I was still alive to think about the next step.
I stood up and walked over to the door. I didn’t want to walk away from Olivia’s room, but I didn’t exactly have a choice right now. I had to go and find her. I couldn’t stick around here.
But walking away from Olivia’s room felt like giving up on her, even if that’s not exactly what I was doing.
I looked back at it. Looked at that white quilt cover, a stain on it where she’d spilled her food one night when she was playing with Bouncer. I saw this haven—this secure place where we’d spent so long. Her home.
Something told me Olivia wouldn’t be returning here.
And neither would I.
I rushed back down the corridor, over towards the exit.
Then I saw movement behind the glass of the main door.
I pulled myself into one of the alcoves to the rooms on the right, by instinct more than anything. I stood at the front of it, back up against it, holding my breath. I pulled Bouncer back as far as I could. I couldn’t let him make any noise. But he would. The second whoever was at the door came past, he would.
I gritted my teeth as I heard the footsteps approaching. I tensed my free hand into a fist. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t exactly a weapon. But if I had to attack whoever was coming, then I guess I had to attack them.
I wasn’t comfortable with it.
But this was my daughter’s safety at stake.
This was everyone’s safety at stake.
I held back against the door. I tried to turn the handle, but it was locked.
The footsteps were just inches away from me now.
I could smell sweat.
Blood.
“Here, kitty kitty,” a voice said. And it made the hairs on my arms stand on end.
The footsteps had stopped. And I became aware that someone was just inches away from me, looking right at where I stood.
I didn’t know whether to peek out and risk giving up my position, or to stay here and kid myself that they hadn’t seen me.
But I knew the truth.
They’d seen me.
There was nothing I could do.
I stepped out.
In front of me, there was a man. He was wearing smart, clean clothes. A white shirt. Black trousers, a little loose around the ankle, and scuffed up loafers.
He could’ve passed for an average businessman. Someone just ready to go for an interview.
Apart from the handprint of blood on his face.
And the machete in his hand.
“Oh, that’s a big kitty,” he said, looking at Bouncer and licking his lips. “You know, you should try kitty some day. Real tasty meat. Like a good juicy steak. Only one meat better though.”
He looked up at me, then, and I realised the guy was licking his lips.
“So come on,” he said. “Give me that kitty there. And we’ll see what we can do about you.”
I shook my head. “I won’t—”
“Give me that kitty there,” the guy said, shouting now. He stepped closer to me, stretched out his hand.
I realised then that there was nowhere I could run. Just back to my room or Olivia’s room. I could lock myself in there, or at least try locking myself in there. But what good was that? What good was hiding?
“Please,” I said. Because begging felt like the only thing I could do right now. “My daughter. She’s—”
“Delicious, no doubt. But we don’t have to try her just yet. Not if you just hand that big kitty there over.”
I looked down at Bouncer.
The thought of handing him over didn’t even enter my mind.
Then I looked back at the man as total fear controlled my body.
“My daughter. Please.”
The man’s bloodstained smile widened. “No? Then I’ll just have to take the kitty from ya.”
He lunged towards me.
Then he made a pained gasp.
His eyes rolled up into his head.
He fell to his knees.
I didn’t understand what’d happened. Not as I stared at this fallen man, blood pooling from his lips.
Then I saw the blade in his back.
I looked up.
There was someone standing behind him. Someone had stabbed him.
But it wasn’t just anyone.
“Dad?” Olivia said. “I—I had to do it, Dad.”
Chapter Thirteen
I stood by my daughter’s side and tried to forget everything that’d just happened.
We were by the main door of our cell block. Outside, we could see more butchery occurring, more chaos. The attacking group didn’t really seem to be killing as many people anymore there. There was a methodical approach to what they were doing, like they were more interested in rounding people up now. They’d killed enough people. Now, they were using fear to keep people in line.
And after witnessing what they’d just witnessed—what we’d all just witnessed—fear was a very strong, very effective tactic.
“Dad I had to do it.”
I heard Olivia’s voice and it made my stomach turn. Not because I wasn’t relieved to be reunited with her. Of course I was relieved.
But just because I knew what she’d just done.
That man, the member of the rival group, had stood there with that blade.
He’d gone to attack me, to take Bouncer away from me.
And then something had happened.
Olivia’s attack had happened.
I didn’t know where she’d come from. I didn’t know where she’d been. I had to assume she was hiding somewhere else in this cell block, and not over at Kesha’s like I’d first suspected.
Part of me was delighted to be back with her, and that the mystery of her whereabouts was over.
But another part of me wished she hadn’t been here. That other part of me wished she had been over at Kesha’s, and that I could’ve just gone over there and saved her.
Because if that had been the case, Olivia wouldn’t have had to stab that man in the back.
“I had to do it.”
“Just leave it, Olivia.”
“He was gonna hurt Bouncer—”
“I told you to leave it.”
I felt bad, chastising Olivia for what she’d done. After all, she’d saved Bouncer’s life, and probably saved mine too.
“I’m sorry,” I said
, unable to look my daughter in the eye. “It’s just… what you just did. You shouldn’t have had to do that. You shouldn’t have had to go through that. And you shouldn’t have to live with it.”
Olivia looked away sheepishly, like she didn’t totally understand the ramifications of both what she had just done, and what was happening in Heathlock on a wider scale. “I just did it ’cause he was gonna hurt you, Dad. You and Bouncer. And I didn’t want that to happen.”
I looked my daughter in the eye, now. For the first time since she’d stabbed that man, presumably killing him.
“Come here,” I said.
I grabbed my daughter and held her tightly. She hugged me back. Bouncer got jealous, so jumped up onto the side of us, making us tumble over.
Olivia giggled, like we were just back home playing. And for a moment, I really believed that we could be. I convinced myself everything was okay. That all was well.
And then I heard more shouting outside, and I knew I couldn’t hide in here much longer.
I weighed up the next steps in my head. Andy was in the cell block at the other side of Heathlock. He knew where Kerry was. I couldn’t let him die.
I didn’t know how much to tell Olivia about Kerry. I figured the less, the better. I didn’t want to get her hopes up, only for them to be crushed brutally all over again.
No. I couldn’t tell her.
But I had to make it very clear that Andy was important.
I held her hands. “Darling, I want you to find somewhere to hide.”
“I don’t wanna hide.”
“Look. Daddy’s… I’ve got to go somewhere and it’s going to be dangerous. There’s a chance I…” I couldn’t finish, but I knew Olivia was a mature enough kid who’d been through enough to know what I was saying. “The man we brought in from outside. Andy. He’s very important.”
“I wanna help you find him, Dad. Then if someone bad gets you again, I can help.”
I chuckled and wiped a tear from Olivia’s cheek. “I know you would. Because you’re… you’re a tough little cookie. Tougher than I am. But Dad’s gotta do this one alone, I’m afraid.”
I held her hands. I know I wasn’t planning on telling her about her mum. But I could at least give her some hope.
I pulled the necklace out of my pocket and put it around Olivia’s neck.
Her eyes widened. “That’s Mum’s. Where did you get that?”
“I had it. All along.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I kept it. Because it made me feel stronger. Like—like Mum’s still with us.”
Olivia stroked the necklace. She opened up the locket and looked at the photo of all of us.
“And now I want you to keep it. And when you’re scared, you hold on to it and remember me and Mum are here. We’re always here, even if you can’t see us.”
She looked up at me. I saw tears in her eyes. Like she realised what I was saying. Like she understood this was goodbye.
“I don’t want you to leave me, Dad.”
I smiled at her, but my mouth was shaky and I can’t have looked all that sure of myself. “I’m not leaving you. Not for long.” I lifted the locket and held on to Olivia’s little hand. “And even when you can’t see me, I’m right here. Right here. I promise.”
Olivia leaned in and hugged me, and it was the most emotionally painful hug I’d ever been engaged in.
I pulled away from it, unable to look Olivia in the eye again. I couldn’t believe I was actually leaving her here. But here was safer than out there. Far safer.
I looked through the glass. I had an opportunity. A chance to run. I could get there in a minute, tops, if I ran as quickly as I could, and if I avoided any potential obstacles.
“I love you, Dad.”
I looked down at Olivia as I held on to Bouncer, and I smiled. “I love you too, sunshine.”
She smiled back at me.
Once again, I was transported away from here, away from this awful time, these horrible days.
Then I heard a tap on the glass.
I turned around.
The man with the burned face—the one with the gun—grinned at me.
“Sorry to interrupt the family chat,” he said.
Then he turned the handle of the door.
Chapter Fourteen
Andy heard the screams, the shouts, the chaos, and he knew what was happening.
Nausea engulfed him, the taste of vomit creeping up his throat. He felt his chest tightening as the memories of what had happened to him swirled around his mind.
Being attached to those chains.
The dread he felt whenever the door to that awful room opened. Never quite knowing if they were coming for him or for someone else.
He remembered the people he’d shared the time in that room with, locked away. They couldn’t speak to one another, mostly because they were gagged. But despite not truly knowing each other, despite never speaking to each other, they were friends. They were united by who they were. Bound by their same awful fates.
Andy wished they were here with him now. In a way, there was something comforting about sharing fear.
He circled the room, trying again to turn the handle of the door, but it was locked. He knew what this was. He was a prisoner. He should’ve never allowed himself to get caught by Will. He just… didn’t really have Will down as the punchy type of guy. Not from what Kerry said about him.
She loved Will. Andy had no doubt about that. But part of the reason their marriage had failed was something to do with Will’s lack of fight. She wanted to see him fight for her. She wanted to see him stand up for himself.
But he never did. He always allowed himself to get caught, to be taken prisoner by his emotions, time and time again.
He wasn’t expecting the crack across the face from Will. He wasn’t expecting that level of fight.
This world had changed everyone, he supposed.
He planted his hand against the cell door and listened to more of the shouts, more of the cries. He felt so hopeless in here. So defenceless. He clung to the small glimmer of hope that perhaps Will would come for him. Or the woman called Kesha, who knew about his camp, too.
He thought about his camp. The way it was. And he wished he was there.
He wished things were all normal again.
He knew he was probably believing a lie, though. Because Will wouldn’t have made it. He might’ve hit Andy around the face, but that didn’t automatically make him strong.
Besides, you could be as strong as you wanted against the enemy. They would find a way to overpower you. To worm their way inside, one way or another.
Then to take you, piece by piece.
That sickly taste filled Andy’s mouth again. His temples throbbed. It was the memory. The flashback.
The day they’d come into that room and they’d stopped at him.
The man with the burns on his face.
The one called Danny.
He’d stood over Andy and Andy knew what it meant. He tried to argue with it in his mind. He tried to deny the inevitability of what was going to happen, the truth.
But of course, denial only worked for so long.
The man with the burned face dragged him to his feet.
He pulled him out of that room.
And as he passed by the gagged faces—the faces of those he’d feared alongside for so, so long—he saw something that horrified him. Something that must’ve horrified everyone who left that place.
The people in there looked relieved.
Relieved that it wasn’t them who were being escorted out of this place. That it wasn’t their turn yet.
In the end, death was lonely.
There were no friends in execution.
Andy pressed his head against the cell door and he gritted his teeth as he tried to hold back more of those memories. But he knew he couldn’t fight them. Just had to accept them. Accept the bad thoughts as well as the good, his mindfulness teacher used to tell him. Don
’t judge any of those thoughts. Don’t engage.
Yeah. Try doing that when you’ve had your arm cut away. Try not engaging with the feeling of a blade slicing you, causing permanent, irreversible damage.
He remembered being bundled back into that room. The surprise on the faces of his fellow prisoners that he was still alive. He remembered the agony he’d felt that night, and the nights after. He remembered wanting to cry out so many times, but not being able to through fear the enemies would come in here and finish him off.
He clung to the hope of getting back home.
Back to his camp.
And more distant, more foggy, he thought about Kerry and how things could all be okay again one day.
Then he’d found his opportunity to escape.
Someone had wriggled free. They’d helped him out. And at first, Andy had hesitated. He thought it was some kind of trap.
But he’d forced himself. Pushed himself out of the walls that he supposed had become his new comfort zone, as much as he didn’t want to admit that.
And he’d run.
He’d run, and he’d never turned back. He’d heard shouting. He’d heard footsteps. He’d been convinced a number of times that someone was right on his trail.
But Andy kept on going.
Going and going until his legs wouldn’t move anymore.
Then when he found the strength again, he ran some more, even further.
He didn’t stop until he knew he was safe. Absolutely safe.
And even then, he couldn’t relax.
Because he knew the reach of the enemies were much, much further than they liked you to think.
He tried to pull open that door again. Tried to drag it open. This time, he really was trapped. There were no loose chains. There were no walls to climb. He was just trapped. Completely trapped.
He didn’t want to give up. But he didn’t know what else to do.
So he kept on pulling at the door. In hope. In blind hope, more than anything.
“Just get me out of this place,” he whispered. “Get me out of this place and God forgive me.”
He said those words and the other memory came to him.
The one he really did repress. The one he couldn’t accept, no matter what.
“Let me out of this—”