by Jess Ballard
“That’s really... I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. It’s done. It wasn’t his fault, but it was so scary, seeing the person I trusted most in the world with that otherworldly look in his eyes. It was pure hunger.”
“I can’t even imagine it.” I thought of my dad, my mum.
“Don’t.” He said, as if to dispel the image materialising in my head. He breathed out slowly, as if preparing for the next sentence. “I took Freddie and we ran. I managed to get an operation, which was horrible, but luckily Freddie was in too much shock to even remember the first few days after I got it done. God, the amount of blood... Anyway, we made our way slowly to the woods where we are, with a lot of stops and quick getaways on the way. I healed up pretty quickly, and we’ve just survived since then. That’s all any of us can do right now,” he finished. The wind fluttered the grass around us.
Freddie looked over his shoulder at us. The moonlight and brightness of the stars allowed me to see the sparkle of a tear on his cheek.
“We’re almost there,” he told me. It was strange, he looked right into my eyes when he said it, almost as if Peter wasn’t right there next to me. It was the only thing he said to me all evening, but his words held the same intensity of the look he gave me.
I don’t know how long I sat in the woods that morning, going over all that had happened. I find it easy to get lost in my own thoughts, but the sound of my name jolted me out of my daydream.
“Jenna! Are you still here? Jenna!” It was Peter. The worried disappointment in his voice made me feel a little guilty, like someone had been whispering in his ear that I wouldn’t stay.
“Peter! I’m just coming!” I started to jog in the vague direction of camp. This was made easy, however, by the smoke that was now billowing around the forest. It was a comforting smell of smoky wood and it made me feel quite hungry.
I saw Peter walking calmly towards me as I approached. His face beheld a steady, questioning gaze. I smiled at him.
“I didn’t want to wake you, so I went for an explore. I found a stream.”
“Were you armed?” His voice was the most serious I had heard.
“Pardon?”
“Did you have a weapon with you?”
“No, I...no.” He nodded in a way that told me he already knew that.
“It’s quite deceiving, isn’t it? The peacefulness out here.” I didn’t respond. “Jenna, I’m not trying to be patronising or anything like that, but you have no idea how dangerous it is, even hidden away here. We still get strays wandering through here from time to time. So, we always need to be prepared.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this last night?”
“I didn’t think it would be a problem so soon. I was planning to teach you some of the basics today. That is, if you’re staying,” he said, almost as if it were a challenge. I regarded him, standing still to show him I wasn’t going anywhere. His face softened a little and a hint of the grin that I was already getting to know flickered across his lips. “Good. Now, I hope you like burnt rabbit, because Freddie’s cooking breakfast.”
The rabbit was, in fact, perfectly roasted. Peter had also boiled some water for us to drink out of cracked cups. The rabbit was split into three and Freddie handed my piece to me, apologising for the lack of plates. We ate quickly and quietly and I felt very satisfied afterwards. Then, Peter then gave me a large pot and asked me to go and collect some more water while he and Freddie set up for my ‘training’. I walked to part of the stream that was a little closer to camp and wondered, slightly nervously, about what my ‘training’ could entail.
When I returned to the camp with the pot filled, I found that they had tamed the fire so it was just crackling in the background. They had also laid out three knives of varying size, a few sharpened sticks and, most intimidating, a rifle.
“Good morning, Jenna, and welcome to Freddie and Peter’s School of Survival. First lesson: how to successfully ward off an A attack. Please step this way.” Peter gestured for me to go closer to the armoury with a flourishing sweep of his arms. Freddie took the water from my arms while he instructed me.
“Peter and I thought it would be good for you to have something to defend yourself, something you can carry at all times.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, but I would not know how to... I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I mean, yesterday in the supermarket when it came near, I just froze.”
“They seriously didn’t teach you anything in the refugee camp?” Freddie looked incredulous.
“Nope.”
“So you were never attacked, not even once?” Peter sounded sceptical.
“We were on the top floor of an office block. It was barricaded, and I guess stairs aren’t the As best friends. The wardens would shoot any As that came down the street, and that kept us safe. We did have one rather determined one try and get in once, but it was dealt with before it reached the second floor.” They looked at each other. Peter was the first to speak.
“Shit. I guess we should get started.” He picked a particularly large knife up deftly and presented me with the handle. Freddie sat down on the other side of the fire, observing us. “I suggest this, to start with. I’ll teach you how to use the gun some other time. We try and save it for special occasions, ammo’s difficult to come by.”
“And the sticks?”
“Freddie’s weapon of choice. Basically the same technique as a knife, but considerably safer to tuck into your back pocket. They’re easy to make, have longer reach so are slightly safer than a knife, and they also make you feel quite cool when you wield one, like you’re out to stake a vampire or something. Much more glamorous than a crazed A.” I think I tried to smile, but the knife seemed to be awfully heavy in my hand. I was glad though. It felt as if I was starting down the path towards a purpose in this mess of a world.
“So, where do aim for on an A?”
“A very valid question. When you’re faced with an A, the aim is to kill them as quickly as possible. You wouldn’t know from seeing them run, but they are quick fuckers when it comes to close combat.”
“If you don’t seriously harm them on the first couple of hits, you may as well slit your own throat,” Freddie added, poking the fire absentmindedly.
“Thanks, Freddie,” Peter said, grinning at me. “Fortunately, you are being taught by the best A fighter in the whole of the country.”
“How many As have you fought?”
“Admittedly, only one or two, but that does not detract anything from my title, or my expertise. Now,” he hurried the conversation on, “where would you aim for if I was an A coming towards you?” He took a step forward, his arms hanging limply down by his sides. I pointed with the knife at the centre of his chest. He stopped. “Good. But wrong.”
“You need to remember that As have a heightened ability to heal themselves, so the aim is to do irreparable damage,” Freddie called out.
“Okay, so...?” I floundered, taking the point of the knife away from Peter’s chest. He carefully guided the blade up to his neck.
“In an ideal fight, you’d aim a nice strong swipe at their neck. That usually halts them long enough for you to properly severe the neck and get the head cleanly off.”
“There are two ways to properly kill an A,” Freddie added, “decapitation and burning. Preferably both, if you want to be absolutely certain.”
“Aiming for the neck sounds a lot more difficult than the chest,” I said nervously.
“We’ll work on aim. It’s not as hard as it sounds. And getting a decent chest hit could stall them enough to allow you to take a bit more time getting to their neck. And if it looks like there is no hope, you can always try legging it. As we witnessed last night, stamina and climbing are not their strong points.”
“Okay.”
“Want to try?”
“What, with you? With this?” I held the knife up, as if to remind him of its presence.
“Not with the knife, obviously. Freddie and I will show you
some moves and then we’ll try. We try to practise every day, just to keep ourselves sharp.” Freddie stood up and walked towards us. “Sit over there and watch carefully.” I sat down.
“I’ll play the A,” Freddie decided, not taking his eyes off Peter.
“Okay. First to the neck.” They stood face to, exchanged a small nod, then dived towards each other.
It was so sudden I almost forgot that I was supposed to be taking notes. Freddie looked like he was going to push Peter right over, but Peter, desperately reaching, grabbed Freddie’s sleeve and swung him away, an awkward move that told me that this was not going to be a clean fight.
A small cry left Freddie’s lips as he turned and brought a fist round to graze Peter’s jaw. This staggered Peter, and gave Freddie the chance to straighten up. They turned to face each other, but the pause was infinitesimal. Freddie was obviously taking the persona of the A fairly seriously, as once again he lunged at Peter with wild abandon, arms outstretched. I half expected Peter to make the same move as before, but he was ready for it this time, and stayed still, giving him the chance to side step Freddie. This caused Freddie to stumble and Peter used his forward momentum and a rough push to completely floor Freddie.
He then fell on Freddie, who managed to squirm out from halfway beneath Peter, a flailing kick landing on his stomach and propelled him fully off of Freddie. Peter righted himself and dived at Freddie’s ankles, who was crawling away, army style. By now they were both panting, and the looks in their eyes told me they were completely absorbed in the fight.
Peter managed to get his hand round Freddie’s ankle, and with his superior size this allowed him to drag Freddie towards him, so their heads were almost level. He then used his other hand to try and grab Freddie by the neck, but not before Freddie flipped over and brought his own hand towards Peter’s neck. They froze, Freddie lying on the ground, his arm outstretched, hand around Peter’s neck, Peter himself on his knees leaning over Freddie, his hand on the boy’s neck. Their chests were heaving, and both were covered in mud, leaves and twigs.
They stayed unmoving. The wind whispered past us, the only sign of life in the stillness. All of a sudden, Peter let out a short laugh and removed his hand from Freddie’s neck.
“Close one.” His voice came out in a hurry, as if he was trying to cover up an embarrassment. He looked over to me with a smile hesitating on his lips. Freddie leapt up from the ground and twisted his head, gauging the damage to his back, then decided his t-shirt was irredeemable and ripped it off, walking away from where Peter was standing to the washing line. Peter watched cautiously as he went. Then, he shook himself slightly and turned to me as if he had just remembered I was there.
“Maybe we should leave this for another time.” I glanced over to Freddie, who still had his back to us, and moved closer to Peter.
“Is he...?”
“He’ll be fine. Just angry about... things. It’s good to get it out though.”
“Are you okay?” I noticed Peter’s lip was split.
“It’s fine. I... Let’s go foraging. I’ll show you some of the edible plants.”
“Oh, okay.” I looked towards Freddie again and back again, catching Peter’s eye. He called out:
“Freddie! I’m going to take Jen foraging!” Freddie nodded, still not turning round. I paused. Peter paused. Then Freddie abruptly spun round and dashed towards Peter. He flung his arms round him and they embraced.
“I’ll check the fastenings on the tarpaulin,” he whispered.
“Okay,” Peter answered. Freddie threw a glimpse in my direction then hurried off.
CHAPTER 3
As the weeks progressed, I grew used to my new life. I could pick food, avoiding the poisonous stuff, start fires and I was also getting pretty good at fighting. I couldn’t beat Peter if he was trying his hardest, but I could just about over power him if I caught him by surprise.
It was strange living without supervision at first. Even at the refugee camp, however sparse the staff had been, there were always wardens present, hanging in the background like shadows, so you never truly felt alone. But here, our only company were the birds and ourselves, and there were many hollows and copses to discover
The boys had found the right balance between our precious tinned food, or “proper food”, and the food we caught. We had enough food in the forest alone to sustain us; we picked blackberries, chestnuts, sometimes wild strawberries and lots of wild mushrooms, and caught the occasional rabbit in our homemade traps. I often saw Freddie almost compulsively checking our food storage, but by my untrained eye, I guessed we had enough to last the winter. At least.
It was fun, sharing the duties, cooking and foraging and checking traps. Apart from work, we had numerous ways of passing the time. Peter was the kind of person who couldn’t be still for too long, so he was always taking us on adventures, like visiting an interesting tree, or inventing a new game for us all to play. He also told stories when it started to get dark early. We’d huddle round the fire, and he’d whisper his many imaginary worlds to us by the eerie flickering of the fire.
By contrast, Freddie was almost always silent. I did not like to be alone with him. He had a shadow about him, something almost tangible that screamed distrust and hostility. He didn’t talk to me unless he had to, and this was usually because Peter, in his well meaning naivety, was completely oblivious to the tension between us, and often paired us up to collect water, or set up traps.
These tasks were performed stiltedly, and any attempts on my part to start a conversation were invariably rebuffed. We rushed through the awkward silence, and there was a sense of mutual relief when we returned to camp, to Peter’s noise and vibrancy. At least we could agree on something.
The especially perplexing thing was that Freddie only acted like this when he was alone with me. When he was alone with Peter - I sometimes overheard them, or caught a glimpse of them through the trees - they appeared to be the perfect pair, laughing, teasing and play fighting like any normal brothers, but in addition to that there was that bond between them, the caring side to their relationship, born from the hardships they had been through.
The change in his character was so drastic, I couldn’t believe it. At the time, I was suspicious of him, convinced he must be acting or hiding something, but he was so young. I couldn’t work out what he could be be hiding that was so terrible that he had to wear these two different masks. I suppose it could be explained by all he had seen, that it had created this suspicion in him. And of course, the more reasonable explanation was that he didn’t want me around; I was disrupting the haven that he had built with Peter. Everything had been in balance before I showed up, with the potential to throw everything into disarray. It would be perfectly natural for him to try and protect is small slice of peace.
I remember once I tried to talk to Peter about it. I think we must have been out checking the traps for the unfortunate rabbits we sometimes managed to catch – god knows how, the traps were crude contraptions, made from the sharpened edges of the lids of tin cans, string and twigs. But this time, we had caught one. It wasn’t quite dead, so Peter slit its throat, sealing its fate. Where I may have found this cruel and repulsive in a previous life, I have to admit that the rare sight of uncooked entrails of the animal made my mouth water then.
We wrapped up the body carefully and started walking back so we could skin and cook it. I knew my time alone with Peter was running out, but I wasn’t quite sure how to approach the topic with him, as I was fully aware he had no idea about my tenuous relationship with Freddie. So after a few failed attempts to steer the conversation along those lines, I grit my teeth and said outright:
“Peter, I don’t think Freddie likes me.”
“Pardon?” His eyes widened in a way that told me that he didn’t know whether I was being completely serious.
“I get a… weird vibe from him whenever we’re alone.” Peter laughed good naturedly. I did not. “I’m being serious.”
�
�He’s just cautious, is all. He was always a shy kid.”
“This isn’t just shyness.”
“Are you sure?” The slightly teasing smile had transformed into an earnestness that was comforting.
“Yes, I am. I was just worried, in case I might have offended him or something…”
“He wants you around.” Peter’s voice was unwavering.
“Really.”
“Yes. Just as much as I do.” My face turned hot. “Jen, we are so much better with you. Apart from anything else, there are fewer chores now that we share them between the three of us, so how could Freddie complain about that?” He grinned at me.
“I thought we were being serious.”
“Okay, sorry.” He held up his hands in surrender. “Truth is, I’m really glad that there’s someone now that could take care of Freddie, in case anything were to happen to me.”
“That’s not likely though, is it? I mean, you’re the best fighter out of the three of us.”
“It’s not just A attacks that can get you. I think people have forgotten about that.” There was sombreness in his tone that made me look at my feet. I was startled from my unease after a few moments by Peter’s hand wrapping itself round mine. It was dirty, mostly from mud but also a little bit from rabbit blood; nevertheless I didn’t mind. I glanced over to him, but he was now looking at his feet himself. Then, he raised his head and gave a timid smile, squeezing my hand ever so slightly.
“Don’t worry; I’m not planning on going anywhere. As long as we stay right here in the forest, everything will be fine. I’m sure of it.” The last sentence put a spring back into his step, and he swung our arms between us. I laughed.
“At least someone is. I don’t think many others would be so optimistic in our situation.”
“Optimism is the key to survival, Jen. Never mind about food and water.”
“Oh, so you won’t want your share of the rabbit at dinner then.”
“Well, now you’re just twisting my words.”
We returned to camp in high spirits, and everyone helped prepare and cook the rabbit, which was delicious. In fact, it was so tasty, when we had finished, Peter announced: