The Renegade

by Amy Dunne

  The sound of her dad coughing downstairs snapped her from her thoughts. It was time to go. She gave one last longing look around the room that had been hers for her entire life. Even when she’d moved into a flat with Dianne, her parents had remained adamant that this room would always belong to her. They’d never changed a single thing. She stepped onto the landing and closed the door behind her, resigning herself to the knowledge she’d never enter again.

  Downstairs, she lingered at the front door. She could hear the sound of her dad’s gasping breaths from inside the living room. She waited silently. A sharp pain stabbed through her heart. Neither spoke. The foreboding filled the silence between them. She racked her brain for something to tell him, desperate to initiate one final conversation or to just hear one more word from him. But there was nothing left to say. It’d all been said, and there were no words that could voice her heartbreak and grief. She refused to make this harder for him. She knew intuitively that however unbearable and painful this was for her, it’d be worse for him.

  She gripped the door handle, pressed it down, and pulled open the door. She stepped over the threshold like she’d done thousands of times before and was greeted by the warm June morning. With bated breath, she paused one final time, her ears straining for the familiar voice. After a few long torturous seconds of silence, she closed the door behind her. She followed the orders he’d given her; she engaged the lock, pushed her keys through the letter box, and heard their jingle as they landed on the welcome mat.

  She took her first tentative step away from the house, her heart tearing in her chest. She took another step, leading her away from the home and burial place of her mum and girlfriend. She wanted to go back to the garden one last time and say good-bye, even though she knew it was useless. There would never be enough time to grieve fully, or enough ways—or words—to say good-bye. Although the solitary future she now faced would probably offer her ample opportunity to try.

  She reached the end of the driveway and closed the creaky iron gate behind her. Without purpose she allowed her feet to carry her down the familiar but deserted street. Cars lined most of the driveways and pavements. She numbly passed by each house, remembering the familiar faces of those who used to live there. She’d babysat for most of the kids on their street at one time or another. She’d laughed and danced with them during their street parties only a few years ago. They’d celebrated the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee and the 2012 Olympic Games with quintessential homemade buffets, plastic cups, patriotic bunting, and a mismatched variety of tables and chairs.

  She rounded the corner as a sudden loud bang erupted, causing her to flinch in shock and grab for her gun. The silent morning echoed with the resounding sound of the single gunshot. Familiar. She knew it’d come from her dad’s handgun. With startling clarity, she knew if she checked the rounds in the magazine he’d given her yesterday, there would be one missing.

  A single renegade tear escaped. She briskly wiped it away with the back of her hand. Inconsolable hurt filled her to the brim, but there was also a flicker of relief. He wouldn’t suffer the same excruciating, degrading, and horrific fate that her mum and Dianne had.

  She’d never return to the house and break her promise.

  There was nothing to go back for now.

  “I love you,” she whispered, looking up to the sky, then bitterly chastised herself. Whispering was pointless when there wasn’t another living soul around to hear. Truly alone for the first time in her life, she began walking again.

  No destination in mind.

  No end in sight.

  Chapter Two

  Alex looked down the sight of the scope attached to her shotgun, watching the deserted street four hundred metres below her. A bead of sweat trickled between her shoulder blades, adding to her discomfort. Her strap top clung to her damp torso.

  She lay prone on top of an uncomfortable bed of stones and gravel, which dug into her abdomen and thighs. Her heart hammered against her rib cage. Parched from the unrelenting heat, her swollen tongue stuck to the dry roof of her mouth. She paid little attention to her discomfort, her intense concentration unwavering.

  She’d seen movement! She was sure of it.

  Adrenaline coursed through her veins, causing light-headed nausea. She waited with bated breath, desperately begging that what she’d glimpsed was real and not just a cruel fictitious hallucination created by exhaustion and sunstroke. “I saw someone,” she said through painfully gritted teeth. Her right eye misted, on the verge of watering from the strain of her concentration, but she fought hard against the impulse, not daring to miss a second.

  A few torturous moments later, a drop of sweat stung her eye and she had to blink. She fell back from the scope. Rubbing her watery eye, she swallowed the bitter taste of disappointment. “Shit.” She stood, allowing her aching muscles to loosen with the familiar clicking from her bones. “Congratulations. You’ve finally lost it. You’ve actually gone insane.”

  It’d been nine weeks since she’d last spoken to her dad. She’d waited, with dread and anticipation, for the first symptoms of the Red Death to develop. They never did. It seemed she really was immune, but that did little to comfort her. Each hour reluctantly accumulated with all of the previous ones to cross over into the next day. And the next. Each day eventually dragged painfully into the next week, and the weeks crawled by at an agonizingly slow pace, eventually leading into the next month.

  The only source of comfort was the British weather. As unpredictable as always, it became the only source of familiarity in a world where she couldn’t rely on anything. Some days it rained, others were filled with unblemished blue skies and scorching sunshine. Today was one of the latter. She stood on a verge above the ghost town surrounded by long grass, wildflowers, and fresh air.

  During the past nine weeks, she’d come across hundreds, if not thousands of dead bodies in varying states of decay. The temperamental weather conditions played havoc with their decomposition. The sickly sweet, putrid smell of decaying flesh was overpowering on the hottest of days, like today. Fortunately there were no bodies nearby at the moment. On a previously hot day, she’d ended up travelling through the first city she’d come to. It’d been unbearable. She followed her dad’s instructions and wrapped her scarf tightly around her mouth and nose. The stench had been thick and hung over the city in a cloud of death. She’d avoided every body and vehicle she came across, ensuring she kept a strict distance. She might be immune from the Red Death, but was in no way delusional enough to think she was impervious to all other illnesses and diseases. Putrefying bodies were a breeding ground for diseases and an all-you-can-eat buffet for insects, vermin, and any hungry animals roaming the vicinity. She got out of the city quickly and vowed to try and avoid others.

  Raising her face to the blue sky, she closed her eyes from the dazzling light. Warmth caressed her face like the touch of a lover. Behind the hollow of her eyelids, an orange glow burned. Her frustration melted away as she blew out a deep sigh through cracked lips.

  She wanted desperately to believe she wasn’t the only person left alive. Her dad had been adamant that others would have survived, too. But she’d seen no one, not even a trace of someone who had been alive recently. Her hope was waning, and death was starting to seem preferable to the desolate loneliness that haunted her every waking moment and plagued her dreams.

  Insanity also worried her. At first she’d spoken to herself frequently and had even began talking out loud to her dad and mum. As crazy as it seemed, it helped, and she’d justified it to being similar to praying. For the last fortnight, she’d pretty much stopped talking altogether. There was no point. Now her voice sounded alien to her.

  She stretched her arms high above her head, taking it in turns to pull each wrist and lengthen the stretch. Her shoulders ached, but it felt good. Her gaze snapped back to the view of the town. She was drawn to a flicker of movement.

  She dropped down onto the hard ground, ignoring the cries of prote
st from her body. Her bare legs stung from fresh grazes, as her green linen shorts only covered the tops of her thighs. She adjusted the scope and scanned the empty streets and buildings again. “Come on!” she said, a mixture of disbelief and excitement tying her stomach in knots.

  There!

  She adjusted the scope slightly to the right and her heart skipped a beat.

  She saw him. A man.

  A man who was actually alive.

  His greasy hair was scraped back into a ponytail that reached the base of his skull. She couldn’t make out the features of his face clearly but could see that he had thick stubble growing on his face and neck. He was wearing a pair of black combats and a dark green T-shirt saturated with sweat.

  What now?

  She quickly considered her options. She could do as her dad had warned and avoid the man. Or she could go down there and meet him. Her relief was intense. An enormous weight lifted from her, and her body felt lighter, her breathing easier.

  She wasn’t the only one alive. There was another living person.

  Could she avoid him? Could she really live without ever speaking to another person again? The answer was a resounding no. She hadn’t realized just how much she craved and needed to hear another person speak. Even if it was just for a few minutes, it would be enough to keep her sane. Her mind made up, she gathered her stuff and jogged down the steep bank. Once on flat ground she picked up pace and headed in the direction she’d seen him.

  Recognizing she was only a few streets away, she stopped. She shrugged off her large rucksack and hid it behind a red car. After a moment of hesitation, she took off the shotgun and hid that, too. Feeling exposed by the loss of her possessions, she pulled her long, baggy blue shirt over her clammy shoulders. Glancing down, she was satisfied that both the knife and handgun were fairly well concealed.

  She made her way cautiously toward the street where she’d seen the man. As she got closer, she heard the sound of a man’s raised voice but couldn’t make out what was being said. Her gut warned of imminent danger, but she’d come too far to not see it through, so she dismissed the feeling as nerves and continued. As she rounded the next corner, the sound of the voice got louder. She peered warily around the last building and was shocked by what she saw. There were two men. The man she’d seen through the scope and also another—taller, bald, and ripped with muscles. The second man had no shirt on but wore a filthy pair of jeans and had a heavy-looking grey sack tied to his belt.

  Alex no longer wanted to meet either man. She’d slink away unnoticed, collect her belongings, and head back up to higher ground to rethink her strategy.

  The man with his hair tied up was holding on to a thin rope attached to something beneath a black car. He pulled and strained on the rope, swearing loudly. The other man laughed and shifted the rifle strap that was irritating his bare shoulder.

  Alex’s feeling of foreboding exploded into full-blown fear. She sensed something sinister about the two men. Her skin crawled and the tiny hairs all over her body stood on end. She took a tiny step backward and covered her mouth to silence the cry that nearly escaped.

  The man with the rope pulled one last time and dragged a bundle of fluffy fur cruelly out from beneath the car. The man continued to drag the puppy over to the nearest lamp post and tied his end of the rope around it.

  Frozen in horror, Alex watched as the guy with hair returned to the other man’s side. Both were laughing, and the sound sent an icy chill splintering down her spine.

  The bald man removed the rifle from his shoulder and loaded it. He raised the gun, aimed at the puppy, and to Alex’s horror pulled the trigger.

  She screwed her eyes shut and flinched. The shot reverberated through the town. Sickened, she only opened her eyes when she heard the high-pitched cries of terror. The puppy looked unharmed, but cowered and frantically tried to escape. Each time it tried to run away, the rope around its neck yanked it back. Terrified, the puppy unwittingly ran in the opposite direction, wrapping the rope around the lamp post again and again, shortening its crude leash.

  Both men laughed sadistically, and the bald man passed the rifle to the other. The man with hair raised the rifle, aimed, and fired. The bullet narrowly missed the puppy but still had the desired reaction. The puppy’s terror was absolute; it continued to unintentionally wrap the rope and itself more tightly around the lamp post.

  Trying to fathom what she should do, she took another step back but met with something solid. Turning, she cried out as she took in the brute of a man that towered over her.

  “You’re not thinking of leaving already, darling? The fun’s only just beginning,” he said. His booming gravelly laugh hurt Alex’s ears.

  His torso was bare and dripping with sweat. He wore black shorts and was the largest of the men. His brown eyes glinted with excitement as he grinned savagely. In a flash of movement he shoved her. She stumbled backward, lost her balance, and fell onto the street.

  “Look what I found skulking away, lads,” the man said, as he rounded the corner.

  Alex looked up and watched as both men turned in unison. The one aiming the rifle dropped it to his side. For a moment neither of them moved, they just stood staring at her in disbelief. Making the most of their hesitation, Alex scrambled to her feet.

  “Looks like we’ve found a new toy. This day just keeps getting better,” the bald guy said. His lips curled in a sneer.

  “I want to play first,” the guy with the ponytail said, leering. He placed the rifle down on the ground and took a step closer.

  Terrified, Alex knew she had to keep in control. She saw how they’d responded to the puppy’s fear. They thrived on it—they weren’t going to get off on her fear. The weight of the hidden knife and handgun reassured her.

  A thought struck: She didn’t think she could murder these men, even if they were sadistic sons of bitches. The Red Death had killed too many people, and she didn’t know if she could live with the guilt of murdering the only other potential survivors.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I came down here looking for supplies, but I’ll go on my way. I don’t want any trouble, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” She was amazed by how confident she sounded. She faced the giant, but kept the other two guys in her peripheral vision.

  “You ain’t going anywhere,” the giant said. He took a domineering step toward her. “You see, we’ve been alone for months, just the three of us. It gets lonely and awfully boring. So if you think that we’re going to let a pretty little thing like you just walk away, you’re wrong. You belong to us now.”

  Molten bile scorched the back of Alex’s throat. She tried to swallow but ended up gagging.

  “We won’t hurt you,” the ponytail guy said, “too much.”

  “We’ll look after you and you can look after us. You’ll like it,” the bald companion said. He and ponytail guy walked toward her.

  Alex took a few steps back. She watched as her attackers stalked her with slow toying steps. Her options were simple: be imprisoned as a sex slave for these three sick fuckers, or kill them. The giant burst into a flash of movement and she instinctively chose the latter. His massive hands grabbed her shoulders as a single shot of gunfire exploded.

  Everything went silent and still.

  The giant’s eyes opened wide with surprise. He stumbled back and looked down at his chest. Blood poured in thick pulses from the blackened hole. A river of crimson cascaded down his bare torso, trickled through his fingers, and dribbled onto the concrete below.

  The other two guys stood frozen. A mixture of disbelief and uncertainty mirrored on their faces.

  Alex held the handgun out in front of her. Her ears rang with the echoing sound; her hands trembled. The familiar smell of gunpowder tainted with the overpowering stench of coppery blood and scorched flesh. She couldn’t look away from the hole in his skin.

  “Fucking bitch!” the giant roared.

  Movement came from all directions.

 
The giant charged; she aimed and pulled the trigger for a second time as a fierce blow struck the side of her head. She stumbled and strong arms grabbed her, knocking the gun from her hands. The giant lay motionless on the floor. No more blood leaked from him and the tiny trickle had already congealed from the blackened hole in his forehead.

  Ponytail guy rushed forward and picked up her handgun. He stared at the dead giant and raised the gun at Alex. “You killed him. You psychotic bitch.”

  Alex grinned, trying to ignore the throbbing from her head. She was ready to die. She hoped ponytail guy would be a better shot with her than he’d been for the puppy. She wanted it over quickly.

  “Put the gun down, Dave,” the bald guy said, tightening his pinching grip on Alex’s arms.

  “No way, man. She killed him. I’m going to blow her away.”

  Alex willed him with every fibre of her being to pull the trigger. Come on, you bastard. Do it!

  “Put the gun down. Now.” Bald guy staked his claim of being the new alpha male.

  Dave hesitated sulkily but finally conceded and lowered the gun.

  “God, you’re pathetic. You don’t have the balls to pull the trigger. I’m more of a man than you,” Alex said, her words dripping with venom. Shoot me, you prick!

  Dave raised the gun again. “I’ll blow your brains—”

  “Dave!”

  Bald guy kicked her knees from behind. Blinding pain turned everything dark as she dropped to the ground in a heap, her scream piercing her ears.

  “She wants you to shoot her, you idiot. She’s saying things deliberately so you’ll do it,” bald guy said.

  “She killed Carter.”

  “Yeah, she did us a favour. No more having to listen to his bullshit. No more letting him have first pick of whatever he wants. Just you, me, and her. If you blow her brains out, she’s good for nothing.” He stared Dave down. Pointedly. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t fuck corpses. Do you want to spend the rest of your pathetic life with only your hand to be intimate with? Or her?”