by Ryan Casey
When she opened it up, she saw just two words.
Thank you.
She folded the note back up. And in that instant, Amy felt a lump forming in her throat. She was in touch with her emotional side. She accepted it was a part of who she was.
But crying about a girl who’d only been with them for three days? Wasn’t that a bit excessive?
She put the note in her pocket. She wiped at her eyes. It was quiet outside and quiet in here. She was disappointed to see Chloë go mostly because she saw something in Chloë. She didn’t understand all the facets of her past. She didn’t know what she’d been through, only she must’ve been through a lot to have the wounds like she did. But she seemed wiser than her years, of which Amy still wasn’t totally certain. She seemed more mature. Like she’d grown through some tough shit in a much stronger way than most kids did in this world.
She was a child of the new generation. No. Not a child of the new generation. A woman of the new generation.
She was a part of the future.
And now she was gone.
She looked back down at the sleeping bag. Whatever she’d wanted, however she’d wanted it, Chloë was gone.
There was no replacing her Nina.
There was no bringing her back from the dead.
Amy turned around and walked towards the tent opening.
She realised it was completely silent outside.
Completely silent.
She pushed aside the tent opening. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see out there. Just that it was never totally quiet outside. Not usually.
She saw why right away.
Two of her people—Sally and Kiar—were on their knees.
A group of people stood behind them. Mostly men.
Guns pointed towards them.
Surrounding the men, Amy’s people, all with crossbows, bows and arrows, knives and javelins raised.
“Let’s just cut to the chase here, shall we?” the man leading the group said. He had big, goggly eyes and was somewhat skinny. His pistol shook in his hand as he pointed it, making Amy wonder whether he was quite so certain about what he was doing after all.
“Lower your weapons,” Amy said. “No need for bloodshed here.”
“We know she’s been here,” the man said.
Amy narrowed her eyes. Her first thought was Chloë. She can’t have left long ago. She mustn’t be too far ahead. “Who?”
Kyle pulled out a nappy from behind his back. Threw it on the ground, between the kneeling women and Amy. “The kid. Kesha. Probably with another kid. Jogging your memory now?”
Amy wasn’t sure what to say. She’d expected these people to be here looking for Chloë. But Kesha? What did Kesha have to do with anything?
Thinking about it, Amy had never truly discovered why Chloë was protecting Kesha after all. She’d never bought into her relative bullshit. But she just figured she must be looking after her because she felt she had to.
Thinking back, there was definitely more of a bond between the pair than Amy first assumed.
“Look, lady, we’re just two groups trying to survive out here. Trying to do the right thing. I’d like to think we can co-exist. I’m Kyle. These are my people. Now I’m sure we can live alongside each other, just like people used to live in the old world. But you’ve had someone here that we’d really like to get back. And if you don’t tell us where they are or where they went, then the laws of the old world are gonna have to come storming back, too.”
Amy looked into Kiar’s eyes. She felt her own eyes watering. She wanted to protect Chloë and Kesha. She didn’t want these people anywhere near them. They didn’t seem like the kind of people to take the pair in with open arms. “She… she was never here. The nappy belongs to—to another kid.”
The man’s head tilted. A little smile spread across his face. “It does?”
Amy nodded. “I haven’t seen anyone. We haven’t seen anyone.”
He held his stare a little longer.
Then, he whistled.
From behind him, two men dragged out Carly. Her eyelids were bruised and swollen. Blood dribbled down her chin. Her dark hair looked matted and tangled.
Kyle pressed the gun to her head. “I’m gonna ask you again. And this time, if you want this little girl to live, you’re gonna answer.”
He started to squeeze the trigger.
“The girl. Where is she?”
Amy heard her people getting restless. Saw more weapons rising. No. She couldn’t have a conflict here. It’d be a bloodbath. Too many weapons were pointed at each other. She had to reach a solution here. A diplomatic solution. The only solution.
Kyle sighed. “Brad?”
Another man stepped forward. Pointed his gun at Kiar’s head.
“This is for the lies.”
He cocked the pistol.
Pulled the trigger.
Amy heard the collective gasp of her people. She saw a few stray arrows fire. Felt the tension elevate.
But Kiar was still on her knees.
Her head was on her shoulders.
No bullet had fired.
Kyle pressed the gun closer to the back of Carly’s head. “Next time, a bullet’ll come out of that gun. It’ll come out of my gun. And it’ll come out of all our guns. So ask yourselves. All of you. The girl. Is she worth the lives of these people here? Is she worth the lives of all of us here? Or are you gonna tell us where the hell she went.”
Amy couldn’t speak. Her mind was caught in two. Part of her wanted to stay loyal to Chloë because she worried about her and Kesha around these people.
But another part of her knew what the right thing to do was.
The loyal thing to do, to her people.
She was about to open her mouth when she heard a voice from Carly.
“Manchester,” Carly said. “She… she’s going to Manchester. To friends.”
Amy felt her body collapse right there.
Kyle kept the gun against Carly’s head. Looked up at Amy. “That true?”
Amy didn’t want to do anything. A sickly taste welled in her throat. She did the only thing she could. Nodded. “Yes. Yes.”
Kyle kept his gun to Carly’s head still. And for a moment, Amy wondered if maybe this was just a trap. Whether he planned on killing Carly, Kiar and Sally all along.
But then he lowered his pistol.
Slipped it into his back pocket.
“Roll up boys. Looks like we’re heading to Manchester.”
The group all turned around. Started walking away from the camp. Sally, Kiar and Carly stayed kneeling there in the dirt. The rest of the women just watched, weapons still raised.
“Just remember,” Kyle said, stopping by the gate. “We know who you are. We know where you are. And if we find out you’ve been lying, well. Let’s just say we won’t just be as lenient next time.”
He winked at Amy. It made her skin crawl.
“See you soon,” he said.
And then he stepped out of the gates and disappeared, his army in tow.
THIRTY-TWO
Chloë pressed down on the pedals and felt the wind blowing against her face.
She pedalled down the empty main road. She’d found a bike a few miles back, and although it’d taken her a while to get used to cycling one-handed, with a little girl sitting in the basket on the front of it, and a heavy rucksack weighing down on her shoulders, every now and then, it felt something like normal.
The afternoon was getting darker. Chloë was hungry, and Kesha seemed ratty too. She’d grown so used to getting fed and bathed that she got too used to it over these last three days. Maybe stopping off in Amy’s camp hadn’t been the best move after all.
But she knew she’d needed it. She knew Kesha needed it. It’d kept them alive. Kept them going.
And it’d made Chloë realise what she had to do.
She took in deep breaths of the cool air. She felt recharged. Refreshed. And she felt focused on what she had to do.
<
br /> She had to get Kesha to the MLZ. She had to find whoever was there—whether it was Riley, Jordanna, James or whoever had taken their place—and she had to make sure Kesha was safe behind those walls.
She knew it wouldn’t be easy. She knew she still had a way to go. But something relaxed her about cycling along. Something brought peace to her.
She felt free all over again.
She saw some monsters drifting out of the trees up ahead. She rammed down on the brakes. Came to a halt. She could’ve just cycled past them. She knew she had plenty of time.
But there was something else she wanted to do. Something she wanted to try. Something she’d been practising at every opportunity.
She put the bike down and sat Kesha by its side.
And then she reached into the rucksack and pulled out the bow and arrow.
It was short. Just the right size for her. And Chloë thought it was a stupid idea because she only had one hand so couldn’t pull it. But Maya, one of Amy’s people, was missing a hand too, and she used her teeth to fire the shots. She made it look so easy.
Chloë struggled to get the arrow onto the string with her one hand. There was a little balance on the bow that the arrow just slid into, so she wouldn’t have to use another hand, but even that was proving trickier than she’d expected.
She heard the monsters’ groans getting nearer. Heard them creeping closer.
She knew she didn’t have lots of time.
She lifted the bow and arrow. Lifted it, the arrow between her two front teeth. She felt stupid. Felt uneasy holding it. She tried pulling it back but it was so tough, so hard.
She kept on going. Kept straining. She was holding her arm so far out that it felt like it might just pop out of its socket.
She focused on the monsters as well as she could. Kept them in her wobbly aim.
And then she fired.
The arrow snapped out of the bow. Hit the ground beneath.
Chloë sighed. She kicked at the ground. She thought about snapping the bow and using it for firewood.
But then she remembered she wasn’t that kind of person. She wasn’t the kind of person to just give up.
She picked up the arrow again. Took the time to slip it into the bow with her teeth, then rest it against the front.
And then she lifted it. Pulled her head back.
Focused on the first of the approaching monsters.
Gripped the arrow. Tight.
And then she opened her mouth.
She felt her teeth go numb. Felt pain kick back against her lips.
The arrow went swooshing towards the monster.
Fell a few feet in front of it.
Chloë lowered the bow. Although the arrow hadn’t hit the monster, she’d fired it. She’d actually fired it with her teeth.
If she kept practicing, she could use this thing to protect herself. To kill quickly, sneakily.
She could prove to herself—to everybody—that she didn’t need two hands to fire a bow and arrow.
She got back onto her bike. She didn’t bother getting the arrow—she already had about ten others in the bag. She lifted Kesha, put her into the little basket on the front. And then she started cycling again. Cycling off down the road before the monsters could reach her.
She kept her distance from them. She knew she could take them on with her knife, which Amy had also packed into her bag. She knew she could put them down. But she didn’t want to. Not now.
She just wanted to press on. She just wanted to get Kesha to the MLZ.
As much as she missed her dad, as much as she missed Bardsey Island, she just wanted to get Kesha to safety right now.
She was moving along steadily, the wind against her face again, when she heard a scream in the trees to her left.
She slowed down. Part of her just wanted to keep on cycling. But that scream. It sounded so desperate. So terrified.
She remembered the screaming monsters in the woods on the way to Bardsey Island and knew it could be those again, even though she’d only come across them that once.
Or it could be a person.
It could be a person who needed help.
She looked back. The monsters were right down the road. She had enough time to look. Time to go check.
And she had her bow and arrow.
She got off the bike. Grabbed the bow and arrow, as well as the knife, just for security.
And then she walked down the hill and just into the woods, towards the screaming.
She stopped just before she got into the woods. Looked around. It was clear. Completely clear.
She put Kesha down. Pulled up a few pieces of grass, threw them over her.
But when she stepped away, she knew she couldn’t just leave Kesha like this. Not anymore.
“Come on then,” she said. She lifted Kesha back up. Turned towards the source of the screaming. She wasn’t sure how she was going to use the bow and arrow if she had to. At least she had her knife. At least she…
In front of her, there was a man.
Chloë only knew it was a man because he was wearing a black suit and tie. He had stubble on his neck. He didn’t look like a monster. Not really.
The only thing wrong about him was the fleshy, spongy growth spilling out of his neck.
One of his mouths opened. He let out an ear-piercing scream.
He was a thing.
Chloë turned around. She bolted up the side of the hill. She reached for her bow and arrow over her shoulder. She had to take it on. She had to put Kesha down and then she had to—
She felt something smack into her back.
Heard the scream loud in her ears.
Kesha went flying out of her hands. Tumbled into the mud. Chloë heard a snap and saw the bow collapse over her in two pieces.
The thing turned her around. Pressed her down with all its weight. Drooled out of its distorted mouths.
And then it pressed its thumbs into Chloë’s eyes.
THIRTY-THREE
Chloë felt the thing’s thumbs sink into her eye sockets and she thought her life might finally be coming to an end.
She saw colours in her vision. Flashing lights, blue, red, purple. Beside her, she could hear Kesha crying. And despite the aching in her skull, despite the taste of blood in her throat, all Chloë could think about was Kesha. She had to get to the MLZ. She had to get Kesha to safety. One way or another, she had to help Kesha.
She reached for the thing’s strong arms. But it just kept on pressing down with the force of a man, not of a rotting monster. She thrashed around. Kicked about. She tried to dig her nails into its fleshy head.
But it just kept on pressing down on her skull.
Pressing down so hard that it felt like it might burst.
Her heart raced. She tried to think despite the urgency of the situation. What did she have on her? She had her bow and arrow… no. No, they’d snapped. They were ruined. What else?
She felt the thing’s hands slip away from her skull as she dug her thumb deeper into its head. It snatched at her arm. Knocked it away. And then it went back to pressing down on Chloë’s eyes all over again, like gouging her eyes out was the only thing it cared about.
Chloë kept on pressing when she remembered the knife. The knife! Shit. Of course. How’d she forget the knife?
But to get the knife, she’d have to let go of the thing’s head.
And it was trying to push itself closer and closer to Chloë…
But she had to do what she had to do. She didn’t have much of a choice.
She reached down for the knife. Checked her left pocket.
There was nothing in there.
She felt the weight of the thing’s knuckles in her eye sockets again. And the more it pressed down, the more Chloë heard something coming from it. A clicking sound. A tapping sound.
Like it was speaking a language of its own.
She kept on searching and searching the ground as the life slipped out of her body, as she waited for the
big crush.
And then she felt the handle of her knife.
She clasped her shaking fingers around it. Didn’t even think about what she was doing—slashed the thing right on the side of its head.
She heard a gasp. A weird yelp. And then she felt the thing’s hands loosen, its fingers grow weaker, shakier.
Something warm trickled down her arm.
She knew exactly what it was.
She opened her eyes. It stung to look anywhere. The pain in her head was dull, throbbing.
She could just about make out the thing above her. She could see its fleshy head although it wasn’t as inflated anymore—it was seeping blood.
She shuffled out from underneath it. Let its limp body fall to one side. She didn’t want to stick around too long. She remembered what happened the last time she’d fought off one of these things: it just came back.
She crawled away from it. Blood trickled down her arm. She looked around. Looked around, panicked, for Kesha.
For a horrible moment, she thought she’d lost Kesha again.
But then she saw her, lying flat on her belly, just like she’d fallen out of Chloë’s arm.
“Kesha,” Chloë said. She staggered over to her. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She didn’t know why. She didn’t know the emotion she was feeling.
She just knew that she wanted Kesha to be okay.
More than anything else, she just wanted Kesha to be okay.
She picked Kesha up. Held her close. She wasn’t even crying much. She was such a good girl. Such a good kid. Maybe the first kid Chloë had ever even liked.
She heard shuffling behind her. Shuffling in the trees. And she knew she had to get out of these woods. Back to the road. Away from here.
She started to run. Started to climb back out of the trees. Her left leg hurt, as did her right arm. Must’ve been the fall. Knocked the wind out of her. She wasn’t sure she’d be fit to cycle one handed anymore. And she couldn’t exactly use her bow and arrow, now it’d been snapped in two.
It was just her knife and her all over again.
She stepped out of the woods and she saw them.