by Ryan Casey
They were on her left. In the direction she was heading towards.
Six of them.
All with fleshy heads.
Teeth sprouting out of their pale alien-like faces.
All hurtling towards her.
Chloë took a step back. But she knew she couldn’t. She had to move forward. She had to keep going.
But how could she now they were coming her way?
How could she now they were blocking her road to the MLZ?
She heard Kesha start to cry. And unlike before, it didn’t annoy her. It saddened her.
She pulled Kesha closer. Bit her lip as the things got nearer, that horrible clicking sound filling the air.
“It’ll be okay, baby,” Chloë said, whispering into Kesha’s ear. “I’ve got you.”
She felt her eyes closing. Felt herself accepting what was about to happen.
And then she heard the gunfire.
There was a lot of it. All of it just in front of her. Closer than the things, she thought.
And as Chloë opened her eyes, a spark of hope ignited inside. Maybe it was the group. Amy’s group. Maybe they’d followed her. Maybe they were coming to help her.
She remembered right away that Amy’s group didn’t have any guns.
But she knew one group who did.
The things lay on the road. Blood smothered the concrete from their fleshy heads. Their limbs had been destroyed by the gunfire.
Seven, eight, nine people emerged from the right side of the woods. And as they emerged, Chloë knew she had to run.
But when she saw who was with them, all Chloë could do was stand there. All she could do was stare.
“Hello, kiddo,” Kyle said. He was dragging someone along—someone with a bag over their head. He smiled. Led his people closer towards her. “Think it’s the end of the road for these silly games, don’t you?”
He pushed the man in front of him to his knees.
And then he yanked away the bag over his head.
Kyle said a few other things. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe Chloë just imagined it.
All she could focus on was the man right opposite her.
The man right in front of her.
It was her dad.
Her dad was here, with Kyle’s people, gun to his head.
Her dad really was alive.
THIRTY-FOUR
“Here’s how this is gonna work, sunshine. And I suggest you listen really closely, ’cause I’m not messing around.”
Chloë stared into her dad’s eyes. Although Kyle was the one speaking to her, it was only Dad she could look at. He looked back at her. He looked thinner since she last saw him, even though it was only a few days ago. She probably looked thinner, too.
His eyes were bruised underneath. He looked like he’d been beaten up. He was handcuffed. Gagged.
But he was alive.
That was the main thing.
Dad was alive.
“We’ve got something you want very much. And you’ve got something we want very much.”
Chloë heard Kyle’s words echoing around her skull. She’d barely recovered from the pain of almost having her eyes pressed in by the thing in the woods and already she was in another bad situation. She could taste the sour blood that’d fallen from the thing’s exploded head on her lips. She could smell sourness in the air.
And still, she held on to Kesha.
Even though her dad was opposite, gun to his head, she held on to Kesha.
“What is there to fight for anymore, hmm?” Kyle asked. The people around him all had their guns raised and pointed at her, too. “What do you have left to fight for other than your daddy here?”
“I—I can’t.”
“What’s that, kid?”
“I… I can’t.”
Kyle looked at her for a few seconds. His eyebrows were shaky. The way he spoke was as if he wasn’t totally sure about what he was doing; he was just doing it because he felt he had to.
“There’s time for fun and games. We all know that. Fun and games are good for everybody. And I can see the fun side to this little chase we’ve had going. I can see why you might think it’s been a good laugh. But trust me, kid. The time for games is over. I’m not messing around. Not anymore.”
She looked at Kesha. Then she looked back into her dad’s eyes. The gun was pressed right into the back of his head. She knew what it meant if she did a runner with Kesha. He’d die. She’d probably die running. And Kesha would be taken away with these people. The same people who hadn’t cared about shooting dead the kids back at Margery’s nursery.
But if she handed Kesha over…
“Time’s ticking.”
She could hand her over. Have her dad back. And she could forget about Kesha. Forget about all of this and go back to life the way it used to be.
But she realised that was a stupid thought. Because life never would be the way it used to be, whether she liked it or not.
“Okay,” Kyle said. “You’ve made your choice—”
“I can’t give her to you,” Chloë said.
The words felt alien as they left her lips. She felt like she was fighting against every single instinct in her body.
Kyle frowned. “What’s that?”
Chloë licked her lips. She knew there was time. Time to change her words. To change what she was going to say. “I… I can’t give her to you.”
“And why can’t you give her to us?”
“Because you’re…”
“Because we’re what?”
Kyle’s smile might’ve been deceiving if Chloë didn’t know what his people were capable of.
He lowered the gun. Stepped around the front of Dad. “Chloë, you know me. And I know you. We’re both from the same place. We’ve both lived on the same island for months now. And it’s a special place. We both know that. Now, there’s always going to be a place for you there if you hand Kesha over. A place for your dad, too. I’ll make sure of that.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s your problem,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “You don’t know when to just take someone’s word for something, do you?”
Chloë didn’t respond. She just looked back at Dad. Held on to Kesha. She knew she was doing the right thing. Just like Dad told her. She had to run. She had to get Kesha away.
She didn’t even need Dad to tell her that anymore.
She wanted to run with Kesha all on her own.
“You don’t even realise how good an offer the one I’ve just made you is, do you?”
Chloë sniffed up. Shook her head. “Sorry,” she said.
She started to step back. But then she realised she couldn’t because Dad was there, and as long as he was there, so too was Chloë. Because as much as she cared for Kesha, she loved her dad. He was the only person she had left.
Kyle sighed. Shook his head. “Very well.”
He turned around.
Pulled back his gun.
Cracked its butt against Dad’s head.
Chloë’s stomach dropped. She stopped right there.
Kyle booted Dad in his chest. And then he kicked him again, harder, right between his ribs.
More of the islanders joined in. They stamped on Dad’s hands. Kicked at his legs. At one point, Chloë swore she heard something crack.
But she couldn’t go back.
She had to run.
She had to protect Kesha.
It’s what Dad wanted.
She watched as Kyle lifted his foot over Dad’s head. As he brought it crashing right down. And she felt it. She felt his pain. She felt Dad’s pain and wanted to take it away and feel it herself because even though he was her dad, she was stronger than him. She was stronger than most people.
But she couldn’t take his pain away.
There was only one way to do that, and she couldn’t do it.
Kyle stopped booting Dad in his head. He turned. Looked right at Chloë. She saw something in his eyes then. Somet
hing dark, like she’d seen in the eyes of so many men, so many women since the world collapsed. “You’re cold, kid. Standing there, watching me destroy your dad. Selfish. You could do to learn a few manners. But it’s okay. We’ll let it slide. If you hand Kesha over.”
He looked at Chloë again for a few seconds. On the road, Dad gasped for air. Blood trickled out of his mouth. His eyes were almost completely swollen over.
Chloë didn’t say a thing. She didn’t move. As much as she wanted to help Dad, she couldn’t give up Kesha. Because he didn’t want her to. Not after coming so far.
And then Kyle turned around.
Pulled out a knife.
Pressed it to Dad’s neck.
He pushed it into his skin. Pushed it right in so blood spilled onto the road.
Chloë felt her body freeze. She felt her mind stop, right there.
All she could see was her dad’s throat being cut.
All she could see in her mind was her sister dying.
Her mum dying.
And now her dad dying.
She couldn’t let that happen.
She couldn’t lose her dad.
“Stop!”
She felt bad about shouting the second after she’d done it.
But she’d done the only thing she could do.
She walked towards Kyle and the islanders, Kesha in her arm.
She watched as Kyle lowered the knife. As he wiped the blood away from Dad’s neck.
The closer she got, the more shame she felt. She looked at Kesha’s cute little face. Looked at her smiling up at her, like she had done so many times over these last few days.
But she couldn’t feel any attachment to her. She couldn’t bond with her.
Because she wasn’t hers to bond with.
Not when Dad’s life was in danger.
She walked past her dad as he lay there on the floor. For a moment, she swore she saw a look of disappointment in his swollen eyes.
“Good decision. You won’t regret it.”
She looked around at Kyle. Stared up at him. He held out his hands. Held them out, waiting for Chloë to hand Kesha over.
She thought about running. Thought about running for the trees. There was still time. There had to be time.
But no.
There was no time.
There was no other way.
Not anymore.
She held Kesha out.
Kyle took her into his arms.
The second he pulled her close, Kesha reached out for Chloë and wailed.
Kyle smiled. “Good girl. Ready to get moving?”
Chloë didn’t know what Kyle was talking about.
She was about to ask him when she felt someone grab the back of her neck, cover her mouth, and pull a blindfold over her head.
She stood there in the darkness. Stood there, trapped in the darkness.
She was back where she belonged.
Lost.
Alone.
Trapped in the dark.
She heard the buzzing sounds intensifying in her head and she felt her stomach sink.
Then, someone kicked her in the back, and she started walking.
THIRTY-FIVE
Chloë didn’t think. She didn’t speak. She didn’t even see anything.
She just walked.
Her vision was blackened. The bag that Kyle’s people put over her head when she’d handed Kesha over was still in place. She could taste bitterness at the back of her tongue. Blood, or phlegm, or both. Around her, she heard footsteps. Footsteps walking alongside her, cracking through twigs beneath.
She had no idea where she was. She had no idea whether she was close to the island again or far away.
All she knew was that she’d failed.
She’d failed her dad.
She’d failed Kesha.
She’d failed herself.
“Hurry the fuck up, kid.”
She felt someone push into her back. She fell down to her knees. Mud coated her hands, seeped into her grazed legs. She felt a spark of anger ignite inside. She wanted to turn around and gut these people with her bare hands. She wanted to sink her teeth into their necks like she was a monster herself, and rip them to pieces.
But she was on her hands and knees. She was weak.
She’d paid the price for caring.
For trying to get Kesha to safety.
“I said hurry up!”
She felt a kick. Felt it, right on the back of her head. Her head was already aching as it was. Already spinning with pain. Again, that kick made her want to fight. It made her want to make a break for it.
But more than anything, it just reminded her how weak she was, really. She’d pretended she was strong. She’d pretended she could look after others; be there for them.
But that wasn’t true. She’d found that out herself.
She’d handed Kesha over because she thought it might save her dad’s life. Because she couldn’t bear to see him tortured anymore.
And now she wasn’t even sure where he was.
She felt a hand behind dragging her back up. And then something happened. The blindfold came away from her eyes. It wasn’t light out. Middle of the night now. The only light came from the torchlights of the islanders. Three of them were shining right at Chloë.
When Chloë’s eyes adjusted, she saw Kyle standing right in front of her.
“You made the right move. But truth be told, it wasn’t a good enough move. You’d already taken us on a wild fucking goose chase around Wales and England. You understand the inconvenience you caused us. Right?”
Chloë didn’t know what to say. Her lips were dry. She knew that if she did speak, she’d probably say something Kyle didn’t want her to hear.
She heard something up ahead. A door clicking. Like a car door. And in the glow of the torchlights, she saw a couple of Range Rovers. They still had the prices in the window. The islanders were climbing into it.
And then she saw Dad.
She tried to step forward but Kyle lifted his hand, stopped her. Dad’s eyes were completely swollen over. He was being dragged along, barely any life left in his limp, weak body.
“Your dad’ll be okay,” Kyle said. “He’s a tough man. He made it this far, didn’t he?”
Chloë felt tears building in her eyes. She didn’t like crying in front of other people. She didn’t like begging, either. Jordanna taught her that, back in her old group. She wanted to see them more than ever now.
But she couldn’t help herself begging. “Please. Please don’t hurt him anymore.”
Kyle laughed. “Oh, we aren’t gonna hurt him. Don’t you worry about that, kid. You held up your end of the bargain. You gave the girl back. It’s… it’s something. Not ideal, but it’s something.”
Chloë looked around for Kesha. Searched around for her. Still couldn’t see her. Not at first.
Not until she saw her perched on the lap of one of the islanders in the front seat of the Range Rover.
Chloë swore Kesha looked right at her.
And when she did, she started to cry.
“Thing is, there’s only room for one more, Chlo. And I’ve been thinking. Thinking about how you are with the baby. You’re good with her. You keep her calm. Hell, you kept her safe out here all this time. That’s a good thing. So I figured we could use a hand from you. You could be good company for Kesha. Until we…”
He stopped. Chloë saw a glow in his eyes. He was holding something back.
“Until what?”
He rubbed at his wrist. Smiled, and snapped out of his staring into space. “Not your concern. But the truth is, there’s only one more seat in that Range Rover. And I think I know who I want to be there, as tough a call as that is. Hell, we might change our minds eventually. But for now, well...”
Chloë didn’t understand what was happening until Kyle grabbed her.
Wrapped his hand around her mouth.
Pushed her towards the Range Rover with all of his weight.
&nbs
p; Chloë watched as she walked towards Dad, then past Dad. She tried to struggle. Tried to cry out. Tried to scream as they knocked Dad back to the ground, as they started digging around his body, kicking him into the dirt.
She tried to bite and kick and lash out and scream but she couldn’t. She couldn’t because she wasn’t strong enough. She couldn’t because she’d done this. She’d given them up. Dad was going to die. They were going to do something to Kesha.
And her, too.
They were going to do something to her.
She kept on fighting back until they pushed her into the Range Rover.
A couple of the islanders pinned her down across the back seat. Tied the seatbelts around her wrist. Gagged her with a sock, which they pushed so far back into her throat that she started heaving.
She bit down on the smelly, sweaty sock. Tried to keep it from slipping down her throat as another of the islanders taped over her mouth.
And when she was tied up, when she was totally bound to the back of this car, Kyle reached for Kesha. Put her right on Chloë’s lap.
“You look after her while I’m up top,” he said. “But I guess that goes without saying, right?”
He smiled at Chloë. There was still an uneasiness. Like he was just acting. Like he didn’t really like what he was doing, but he was pretending to be somebody else because it made him feel… well, stronger. Chloë could relate to that, in a way.
She looked out of the car door. Saw Dad’s face poking out of the dirt. The two men burying him got into the second Range Rover, along with Kyle.
She saw him open his eyes in the last glimmer of torchlight. Saw him look for her. She wanted him to find her eyes. For him to know that she was alive. But because she wanted him to look at her in that way that told her everything was going to work out okay. One way or another, everything was going to work out okay.
Then somebody slammed the back door.
Switched off the torchlight.
As the Range Rover engine kicked in and drove away from her dad, Chloë swore she saw movement in the trees.
THIRTY-SIX
It didn’t take long for Kyle to change his plans for Chloë.
She sat in the mud. Sat there in the middle of the woods. Rain lashed down from the darkness above. She swore she saw movement in the trees. Figures wandering towards her from the middle of nowhere.