by Jess Ballard
That’s why, I think, why we felt the need to change. We could not survive as we were, as shadows, appearing, disappearing, reappearing, as the sun willed it. Certainly, we could not have warded off an attack as we were.
But this also presented a dilemma. Peter wanted to move to another remote place, somewhere that didn’t have memories etched into the bark and leaves, echoing in the babbling of the stream, lingering under tarpaulin. Somewhere far away from people and settlements.
“We just pack up and leave, like you did when you found us.”
“And what do you think that would solve?”
“It would be somewhere new, a fresh start...”
“Peter, do you seriously think we can go on frolicking about the woods after that?”
He did. He didn’t want to risk finding any more As, or anymore As finding us. Far, far away, that timeless fairy tale bullshit, the grass is always greener.
My plan was distinctly different. I’d come to realise that waiting for this hell to be over, hiding from it and running from it, was not what I wanted to do. Freddie was gone and now I wanted to fight back. I want to fight for my survival, for my humanity and the humanity of others. I wanted to do what I had set out to when I first left the refugee camp. That flame of defiance had returned.
“We can’t just sit here and let what happened to Freddie happen to other people. We need to find the survivors and fight back. I don’t know... we’re pretty well prepared, I mean, you taught me to kill, you know how to kill, we could actually do something.”
“I thought living was enough.”
“Well, it isn’t. Not anymore. I want to fight. And I would have been if I hadn’t have met you.”
“So it’s me who’s holding you back, is that what you’re saying?”
“No, that’s not what I meant, and you know it. I only meant that I originally left the refugee camp to fight this, to fight the As.”
“And you told me you’d changed your mind! If that was the case, why did you stay here for so long, when that’s what you really want to be doing?”
“Because I like it here! Peter, the last thing I want is for us to be split up! We’re all we have. I just can’t do nothing after what happened.”
“And maybe I can do nothing. Maybe it’s what I need.”
“Okay. I understand, or I’m trying to understand, but don’t you think we need some help? Don’t you think we should go somewhere safe?”
“We’ve been fine up until now...”
“Yes! And then Freddie died, so we’re re-evaluating.”
Peter stared at me as if I had broken some unwritten rule, shattering the unspeakable.
“I’m sorry,” I said, back tracking a little, “but we need to look at the situation for what it is. What if next time it’s you? Or me? Then what would the other do? If either of us were left alone, we’d be helpless. We’d be forced to move to a town where there are people...”
“Yes, and where there are people there are As.”
“Oh, come on, we’ve hardly done a great job at avoiding them so far.”
“Will you please shut the fuck up?” he shouted, his anger about what had happened seeping through. “I know we messed up! I messed up! But as long as we stay together, as long as you stay with me, just us two, nothing like that will happen again, I promise.”
“Peter,” I sighed, “you can’t make those kinds of promises. Of course I don’t want to leave, but you’re not giving me a lot of choice.”
“So you’d go without me?”
“No... well, yes...”
“Yes,” he confirmed, and was silent. Then he said, “I don’t know if I can come with you.”
“You don’t know if you can, or you don’t know if you want to?”
“He’s barely cold, Jen, I can’t decide so quickly,” Peter whispered, trying to stop the tears that were spilling down his face.
We had got to the point in the argument where I felt we were both too exhausted to continue, and Peter looked tired and pale, so I decided, for now, it didn’t matter that he didn’t understand what was best for us. I walked over to him and put my arms round his middle. He rested his head on top of mine and we cried, the kind of crying I know he’d been leaving the camp to do, the kind of crying you do when you don’t know what else to do, and all you can do is hope that the sadness will leave you as the tears do.
After we’d finished, I stepped back and gently pawed at the wet patch I’d left on the front of his shirt, though it had no effect. He gave me a shaky smile, then said he was going to bed. He didn’t want anything to eat, and I wondered, but didn’t ask, if he was feeling alright. He looked pale, but it might have been grief-pale, rather than sick-pale. I ate a small meal and put out the fire before joining Peter to sleep.
The next morning, Peter was very quiet again, and offered to go and get some water for breakfast. When he returned, however, he surprised me by saying:
“Jenna, I’ve thought about it and you’re right. Let’s go back. Let’s fight. We should stick together, and I want to do this for you. It’s more important to be with you than to keep away from towns.”
I didn’t answer him immediately, eyeing him suspiciously and waiting for him to reveal that it was a big joke and he wanted me to leave immediately.
“Okay, let’s go then,” I replied warily, still waiting for him to change his mind.
We began packing. I kept glancing over at Peter, expecting him to suddenly stop and walk off. But he was rolling up the tarpaulin and stacking the remaining food into bags, intent on completely deconstructing his home. I helped him fit as much as we could into the two big rucksacks that he and Freddie had first brought with them, forgoing my smaller bag. Most of it fit, and we had enough food that meant if we needed to run back to the woods, we could live off for a while. Enough to survive. In addition, we both armed ourselves with a knife each, plus a sharpened stick. To my surprise, Peter also insisted that I take the gun in lieu of himself, even though he’s probably a better shot.
As we began our journey back towards the town, I felt excited and happy for the first time since Freddie died. It seemed a lot longer than the three days it had actually been, but the sensation of leaving, of returning to the town and of movement and activity was slightly euphoric, and it was all I could do not to run ahead, or grin excitedly.
What kept me from doing this was Peter. His face told the exact opposite of how I was feeling. He looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept at all last night, lined from grief, and reluctant, painfully reluctant. It was scary; he looked like a man who knew the end was not far off. I was staring at him and contemplated this, as well as exactly why he suddenly decided coming with me when he turned to look at me.
“Can I tell you something?” he asked.
“Of course,” I replied instantly.
“No, I mean, it’s kind of important.”
“Okay.”
“Can we slow down for a bit?” I nodded and started walking slower. He did the same. I noticed that we were doing that inexplicable thing where our steps fell into rhythm.
“Jenna, I feel like this is ending. I feel like we’re going to get there and it’s all going to fall apart. That’s why I wanted to stay in the countryside. I didn’t want this to end. I wanted to stay with you and Freddie forever. No, that’s stupid... I just wanted to stay with you for longer.” He was making eye contact with me all the way through this speech. I liked that about Peter, whenever he spoke seriously, he always looked you in the eye, and you know he meant it. He was so sincere.
“I... I’m sorry for the last few days. I wasted them, and now...” he gestured to the sprawl of the suburban neighbourhood below us, “now this.” He took a long deep breath that shook as if he couldn’t take in all the oxygen he needed, which seemed out of place seeing as we were doing nothing more strenuous than strolling down the sloping field.
“It’s okay, Peter. Nothing’s ending. If anything this is the beginning of something. We’re going t
o stick together, and Freddie’s going to stick with us too. And you don’t need to be sorry for anything, I mean, he was like a brother to you...”
“He was my brother.”
“Yes. So you’ve nothing to be sorry for, you needed time, you still need time. You’re not going to heal instantly. And anyway, I’ve not been my best self since it happened either.”
“I guess we’ve both been a bit rubbish.”
“Yeah. A bit rubbish.” There was a slight pause, a content pause. The relief that we were talking so freely after all our arguments probably cancelled out the anxiety of returning to the town for Peter.
“Can we promise not to argue anymore?” Peter asked. “I know it’s a strange thing to ask, but if anything happens... I want it to end like this. Like we are now.”
“Yes, okay,” I promised, “but Peter, I’m not really sure I understand. Nothing’s going to happen.” He took in another deep breath and then appeared to relax, but his eyes still looked worried.
“It still helps to know.”
I noticed he was still breathing heavily, and in the thin morning light he looked quite pale.
“Peter, you really don’t look very well,” I said, starting to get properly concerned and remembering how he had been acting in the past few days. “Have you been eating enough?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous, I guess.”
“Why would you be nervous?”
“We’re going to fight in a war, Jen,” he reminded me, and for the first time in the conversation, he broke eye contact, something that made me wonder again why he was really following me. And there was something, an edge to his voice, a stiffness in his posture, that made it look like he was condemned, like he was walking to the gallows or had a gun pressed to his back.
When we get there, I kept telling myself, he’ll be fine, he’ll be Peter again, he’ll go screaming into battle, he’ll fight like he showed me, he won’t stumble behind me like he is now, he’ll look at me with a sparkle in his eye, he’ll laugh, he’ll smile.
We carried on walking. The sky looked like runny watercolours, with clouds strewn carelessly across it. All the colours, the delicate blue that faded into pink and purple shadows around the yellow of the sun, obscured under the horizon, all of them were mixed with grey, as if I was looked at the world through doom tinged glasses, or maybe the despair of humankind was seeping into our atmosphere.
CHAPTER 10
We started to walk faster in the last part of our journey, so fast I was almost tripping over my feet. Excitement pounded through my veins. Incidentally, it was taking us much longer to get back to the town than when we’d first fled from it. Probably because we weren’t running from As. And we didn’t have Freddie marching ahead of us. We reached the fence we had first climbed over, then the alley, then the high street.
It was empty.
“So,” Peter coughed, “now what?” The hint of playfulness in his voice was enough to make me feel relieved, despite not actually having a plan. Maybe his strange behaviour on the way here had just been a hiccup. He was still grieving, I reasoned, he was bound to have doubts about facing his friends killers. At least he was talking to me about them.
“We find some people, I guess.”
“And what if there aren’t any?”
“We carry on walking.” I looked at him. His half smile played mockingly over his lips.
“Remind me why I followed you here?” he said. I shot him a look and he smiled at me. Then he stepped closer to me and took my hand. “Come on, then.”
The sun was pleasantly warm on our backs as we walked down the deserted road. It felt distinctly different to when I was last here, though it was something so slight that I couldn’t say exactly what it was. It was silent, absolutely silent, the kind of silent you got right in the heart of a forest, the kind of silent that even wild animals respect. The gutters were clogged up with wrappers, dirt and things that were rotting. All the buildings on either side of the street were windowless, the shards of glass littered the curbs, catching the sunlight and reflecting rainbows onto the cold grey concrete.
We followed the gentle meandering of the streets, but I could feel the tension running down Peter’s arm. I was also becoming gradually more guarded as we progressed.
Peter stopped, letting out a strangled breath through his nose. His grip on my hand tightened, squeezing my knuckles together. He had gone very pale again and his other hand, his right hand, was gripping the material of his shirt just above his hip.
“What is it? Peter, answer me!” He opened his mouth, but his eyes screwed up in pain before he could answer. I pulled him over to the curb.
“Sit down.”
“No,” he whispered. “I’m okay, it’s just my stomach, I think. I guess all the walking... pulled a muscle, or something.”
“Are you sure? Because... wait, can you smell that?” We turned to look in the direction we were headed.
“Smoke.” Peter had straightened up.
“Yes, but there’s something else.” I took in a deep breath, and the something else stung my nostrils. It was vaguely familiar, vile and choking.
“Flesh. That’s what it is. Someone, or something, is burning flesh.” He looked at me, a grim expression shadowing his face. “We should go on.”
So we carried on walking, a little faster now, the smoke getting thicker and the smell more sickening. Peter tapped my shoulder as we went, and drew his knife, gesturing that I should arm myself. I lifted the gun and held it awkwardly up in front of me, nervous now that I might actually have to use it.
When we came to the crossroads, we heard voices. I lowered my gun, relieved that we weren’t going to stumble across a pack of As, but Peter nudged me.
“Let’s listen, they might not be... like us.” He was right, once again. I hadn’t really thought about meeting humans that were hostile, but it was certainly possible that they would kill anything that moved in order to preserve themselves.
“Is that it?” one voice called out.
“I’ve checked the alleys for bodies, and we cleared the main street on the way down, so I think so,” another voice answered.
“Well, do want to check again maybe? Just in case one comes back and rips your stomach out? We need to be certain about these things, okay?” Yet another voice, this one definitely in charge.
“Sorry.”
“Sorry.”
“Whatever, just go and check.”
I glanced at Peter, who looked puzzled.
“Do you reckon they’re fighting As?”
“Sounds like it. Still, we should exercise some caution...” Footsteps were approaching from the left, from where the smoke was, accompanied by muttering from two of the four voices. “Shit, get back.”
We pressed ourselves to a wall in a vain attempt to camouflage ourselves, but there was really nowhere else to hide. We just had to hold our breath and hoped they walked past us until we figured out how to approach them. As I feared, they spotted us as soon as they turned the corner. Immediately, they raised their rifles right at us, and I did the same as Peter offered forth his knife.
“Put down your weapons,” one of them said. She was tall with dark hair and even darker eyes, and held her gun as if it were an extension of her arm. She looked as though she would have absolutely no problem with killing us if we were any inconvenience. The other one was smaller, and had a friendlier face, but she was still aiming her gun at us. However I didn’t feel like just giving in to them.
“We will if you will,” I said, holding my gun up and trying to keep my hand steady. Peter, who had lowered his knife, gave me a look that said ‘don’t be such an idiot and do what the people with the guns say’, but I ignored him.
“We mean you no harm a-and... well if you’re killing As then that’s what we are here to do... so we’d like to help, um, if that is what you’re doing,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.
“You’re on our turf,” the one with the severe eyes
said without a hint of emotion.
“This used to be my turf. I used to live in the refugee camp just down the street.” My voice sounded weak in our deserted surroundings. The two of them exchanged a look, then faced me again.
“That closed down months ago. Complete massacre. This place was overrun with As till yesterday. So, it’s our turf.”
“Really? That’s...” I faltered as I tried to comprehend how fortunate it was that I had decided to leave. Peter chimed in:
“That’s great, and we’d love to help you out. We can fight.”
“With that?” The smaller one nudged her rifle to indicate his inferior weapon with a barely concealed smirk.
“We only have one gun,” Peter replied. They stared at us for another minute or so. Then the tall one spoke again.
“Okay. We’ll all put our weapons on the ground and then we’ll take you to the Captain, deal?”
“Yes.”
“Three, two, one...” We all crouched down, not taking our eyes off each other. It was almost animalistic, the lack of trust between our two sides.
When we’d straightened up, the taller of the two spoke again. “Wait. Before we go, show us you’re clean.”
I looked at Peter. He was pale, and with a shaking hand, he raised the corner of his shirt to reveal his crooked scar. Both of the women frowned, their eyes narrowing, before turning their attention to me. I did the same, and was greeted with a nod. They then offered us the same courtesy.
They led us round the corner to where they had lit a huge bonfire. I would say it was like a funeral pyre, but the way they were unceremoniously chucking various body parts into the fire did not make it seem like they were dealing with the remains with any kind of respect – even if they were only dead As.