The Renegade

by Amy Dunne

“Is Gemma here?” David asked. Water dripped from his hooded coat onto the tiled floor. He was soaked.

  “No. It’s just Joe and me,” Evelyn said. She watched as Phil and Scott began searching the room. They were in a rush and hurriedly inspected everything. She avoided looking toward the grate. She’d not had time to cover it up with the cabinet. In her opinion, it looked obvious that it’d been removed. Crumbled cement had fallen to the ground, and in her haste she hadn’t had time to clean it up. The grate looked wonky.

  “She’s not here,” Phil said, purposely brushing past Evelyn. His eyes and right cheekbone were almost fully healed, with only faint scars and a hint of green bruising remaining. His injuries from the savage beating he’d sustained had surprised Evelyn, but she’d also felt a sense of perverse satisfaction. David had given him a taste of his own medicine.

  The bruising she’d seen on David’s knuckles when he’d escorted her to meet with Elijah for their engagement proposal had been from beating Phil. He hadn’t laid another violent finger on Tanya since. But Evelyn’s wariness of David increased tenfold.

  “When was the last time you saw Gemma?” David asked.

  Evelyn shook her head. “I think it was yesterday during the evening meal.”

  “Same goes for me,” Joe said. “Why? What’s happened?”

  “We think she’s run away—” Scott stopped speaking when David’s menacing glare cut him off.

  “We don’t know where she is,” David said. “But we’re not going to stop until we find her.” Before any of them could speak, a commotion outside grabbed their attention. Someone was shouting about a breach in part of the fence. Phil and Scott rushed outside.

  “Let me help, David,” Joe said, pulling his coat on. “You need all the manpower you can get.”

  David’s eyes narrowed, but he gave a stern nod. “Come on. Quickly, old man.” They both rushed out, leaving Evelyn alone. She locked the door and sat down, her pulse racing so fast she was light-headed.

  Had Gemma really escaped? How could a fifteen-year-old girl succeed in finding a way to escape when she and Joe hadn’t? Her heart sank. Regardless of whether it was true, the camp security would now be increased, as would Elijah’s paranoia. The chances of her, Joe, Jamie, and Matilda escaping now were miniscule.

  “Shit,” she whispered, covering her face with her hands. She tried to force herself to congratulate Gemma and be pleased she’d escaped. But she couldn’t.

  There would be hell to pay.

  “You silly selfish girl. What have you done?”

  Dwelling on it wasn’t going to help. She needed to get outside and see how bad things were. As she got up, her head swam and she stumbled, grasping the nearby trolley. A few things dropped to the floor. After a few deep breaths, she bent to pick them up. The last item was a pregnancy test.

  Joe’s words replayed in her mind. Her own medical knowledge reared up in a cool and collective voice, speaking the fear she’d been ignoring for weeks. If another survivor showed the same symptoms as her, she’d immediately think pregnancy. Even knowing the woman was on the pill, protocol demanded a pregnancy test. The pill’s effectiveness could be altered by any number of things.

  “I’m not pregnant,” she whispered to herself. Her voice croaked with emotion.

  After a second of hesitation, she slipped the test inside her coat pocket instead of putting it back onto the trolley. It would put her mind to rest, that’s all. Lifting her hood, she unlocked the door and headed out into the eye of the storm.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alex, Murphy, and Paddy set out early morning as the dark clouds gathered. Three hours into their trek, the heavens opened. Drenched through, the cold October air easily chilled them. Shivering bodies, rattling teeth, and trudging feet made for a wholly unpleasant experience. A spectacular bolt of lightning lit up the menacing sky with spidery rays. Two heartbeats later, a bellowing roll of thunder sounded overhead. Alex flinched at the sound, while Murphy gave a high-pitched squeal. They needed to find shelter from the onslaught.

  “Look,” Murphy shouted over the ruckus.

  Alex looked ahead in the direction he pointed. Shielding her face with a squint, she finally glimpsed something in the distance. It took a few moments for her sluggish brain to thaw and make the connection: a petrol station.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  Murphy nodded and they picked up their pace.

  Alex glanced behind at Paddy in his trolley. The poor little mite had burrowed beneath a mound of bits and bobs, with only his eyes peeking up at her. She gripped the trolley’s handle, hunkered further down inside her coat, and tried to match Murphy’s pace.

  The gale blew a wall of rain and hail against them. Each traipsing step became a weary battle, which yielded little reward. After what felt like a lifetime, the petrol station’s canopy loomed into view. Digging deep, Alex sourced a final burst of resolve and surged forward. She reached the canopy ten strides ahead of Murphy. Resting her hands on her sodden thighs, she bent double and tried to catch her breath. Now protected from the icy rain and no longer physically exerting herself, the cold temperature attacked. Each exhale formed a cloud of steam. Coldness spread out over her body, chilling the marrow of her bones. Her body shook and shivered, her muscles ached, and her energy fizzled out.

  Murphy staggered beside her and shrugged off his backpack. “Oh. Thank God.”

  She was grateful when she noticed what he was giving thanks for. The metal shutter that had once covered the building’s door had been torn off and chucked to one side. Access inside the main building was waiting for them.

  Her body was weak, but her senses sharpened, taking everything in. The shutter had taken force to remove it. The thick black tyre tread suggested a large vehicle had been used. The building could have been broken into while the Red Death was still wreaking havoc, but she suspected this occasion was the work of survivors.

  “I’m colder than a witch’s tit,” Murphy said, sprinting toward the doorway. He stopped abruptly as Alex grabbed his arm.

  “Wait with Paddy. I’ll go check it out.” She withdrew her handgun and warily crept toward the door. Whoever had broken in was probably long gone. There were no vehicles in sight and the mangled shutter was covered in orange rust. It was always better to be safe than sorry, especially as torrential rain was likely to draw others to the shelter of the canopy.

  Her boots crunched on broken rubble as she climbed the three steps. Part of the door’s brickwork had come away with the shutter. She peered into the pitch-black darkness inside. She shrugged off her rucksack, resting it against the splintered doorway. Without the restriction and weight, she’d be quicker and stealthier. She flicked on her torch and used the hands-together grip like Dad had taught. The beam of light sliced through the darkness like a golden blade. Alex’s gaze darted from side to side, noting the shelves on either side with each sweep. The contents were sparse, confirming people had already ransacked the place. Circling back, she was confident the building was empty.

  “It’s fine,” she said, holstering the gun. “Bring everything inside.”

  “It’s a bit dark,” Murphy said, sticking his head inside before stepping out again. “A bit creepy, too.”

  “I’ll take dark and creepy over drenched and freezing any day.” Alex helped lift the trolley and its contents up the stairs and in through the doorway. Paddy didn’t look enthused by their humble abode either. He shook himself off, spraying them both with rainwater, before lying back down inside the trolley.

  Unable to stand another minute of being cold and wet, Alex stripped out of her soaking clothes. Now she was out of the rain and the building was safe, her adrenaline was siphoning off.

  Murphy stripped, too, so she turned her back to him. They were used to each other now and automatically turned away without batting an eyelid. Rummaging inside her rucksack, she chose undergarments, a pair of jeans, a baggy T-shirt, and a thick jumper. The binding around her chest was sodden, but there was
no way she was going to take it off and go through the difficulties of fitting a new one. The dry materials slid over her blue-tinted gooseflesh, and she sighed happily as her core temperature warmed up. For the first time in weeks, she saw her reflection on a display case. Rubbing away the dust and dirt, she got a clearer look. Her hair had grown more than she liked and was sticking up in an unruly mess. Murphy would have to give her another trim. Other than her hair, she liked what she saw. She was comfortable and felt happy in herself, more than she ever did in the old world. The inside finally matched the outside appearance. It wasn’t vanity she gained from wearing men’s clothing. More like comfort. She liked the look and feel of her toned, masculine physique. The short hair was a godsend for life on the road, and Murphy was a nifty barber. It was just a shame he wasn’t as fussed about his own appearance. “Paddy. Come here,” she said, kneeling. Paddy scurried over and willingly surrendered to the intense rubdown with an old girly top.

  “He looks like a walking ball of fluff.”

  “Don’t you listen to him,” she said conspiratorially to Paddy. “He’s just jealous of your luscious locks.”

  “I’m not jealous. Have you not seen this thick head of hair that I’m blessed with? I’ll have you know good hair is hereditary in my family.” Murphy shook his straggly mop of hair.

  Alex nodded. “Difficult to miss. I agree, you do have a thick head.”

  “Of hair. You’re so not funny.”

  “It’s just a shame about that thinning patch at the back.” Alex turned her attention to hanging her wet clothes on some of the shelves in an attempt to dry them.

  “I do not,” Murphy said, folding his arms. “Come on. That’s not even funny.”

  “Only saying what I see.” She shook out her trousers and hung them on another shelf. When she turned, Murphy was trying to see the back of his head in the display case.

  Stifling a laugh, she had the decency to feel guilty. “I was joking about the thinning patch.”

  Murphy glared. “You’re wicked.”

  Alex nodded. “And you’re gullible. How about we go see if there’s anything useful in here?”

  “Aye. Ladies first.”

  “Wimp.” She picked up her torch and waited for Murphy to find his. He clearly wasn’t thrilled by the prospect of exploring their surroundings. As she searched the shelves, he followed close behind, his gangly body bumping into hers.

  She turned around, her nose almost touching his chest. “I’d like some space. Okay?”

  He mutely nodded and took half a step back.

  Alex raised an eyebrow and waited. He reluctantly took another step back. She searched the shelves and spotted a chocolate bar. She grabbed it and flung it at Murphy.

  After a fumbling juggle, he finally caught it. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said without turning around. There was hardly anything worthwhile left. Whoever cleared this place out had done a thorough job.

  “What was that?” Murphy asked.

  Alex sighed as he scooted behind her again. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Don’t mess with me.”

  “I’m not. I honestly didn’t hear anything.” Just as she finished speaking, she heard a loud clunk from somewhere ahead of them.

  “I suppose you didn’t hear tha—”

  “Shut up,” she hissed. Her right hand flew to her holster, but she was reluctant to take out her gun. Quietly, she tiptoed forward, the beam of light showing nothing but dancing dust particles and deserted shelf space. Then it fell on a pair of reflective eyes. Whatever the eyes belonged to was blocking the rest of the aisle.

  “Sweet Jesus!” Murphy shouted, practically climbing on Alex’s back.

  Paddy trotted toward them from the shadows; his white teeth looked suspiciously like a grin.

  Alex laughed and found she couldn’t stop.

  “Paddy, what in the name of—shit. I think I’m having a heart attack,” Murphy said, gripping the right side of his chest dramatically.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Shit. Alex, I really think I am.” His face was screwed up as he continued to massage the right side of his chest. “I can’t breathe. I’ve got a pain in my arm. Oh, God. I don’t want to die in this shithole.”

  “Your heart’s on the left,” Alex said, bending to give Paddy a fuss. “Go and keep an eye out at the door. I’ll keep looking.”

  “Okay. Come on, Paddy. You can come and guard with me.” Murphy scurried away with Paddy, his heart attack miraculously cured.

  Alex took her time. She stepped carefully around a jar of some kind of food that had smashed. Mould-encrusted shoe prints were traipsed around the tiled floor. Judging by the sizes and sole prints, at least four, if not more, men had previously been here. She was relieved they were gone.

  “Find anything?” Murphy asked, as she returned.

  “A few things.” She presented her armful of items. Two bottles of beer, a jumbo packet of salted peanuts, a pack of playing cards, a local map, three cheap lighters, and an umbrella.

  “The makings of a perfect afternoon,” Murphy said, grinning.

  Alex looked outside. The rain showed no signs of letting up; she’d no intention of going back out today. “I reckon we stay here tonight and head off again tomorrow. We won’t be able to light a fire in here and I won’t risk lighting one beneath the canopy. We don’t want to draw attention. We’ll just have to put more layers on.”

  Murphy nodded unenthusiastically. “It’s certainly getting nippy nowadays.”

  Alex sat next to Paddy and spread the map out on the dusty floor.

  Murphy tore into the packet of peanuts. “We’ve got lots of time to do map reading. This is our first afternoon off for ages. Let’s enjoy it.”

  “Okay.” Alex folded the map back up and zipped it inside her rucksack.

  “How about poker?” Murphy asked, as he shuffled the cards.

  “Whatever.” As she twisted the cap off a beer she thought of something. “If you so much as hint at us playing strip poker I’ll—”

  “Of course not,” Murphy said, looking genuinely aghast. “That’s disturbing. It’d be like playing it with one of my sisters.” He gave a dramatic shudder.

  It was a backhanded compliment of sorts, but it made her smile. They were a weird, mismatched, dysfunctional trio, but they were also a family. She wasn’t entirely sure when their relationship had forged to one of surrogate family, but she’d do everything in her power to protect them. She loved them, and they made life worth living.

  “Just deal the cards, perv,” Alex said, handing him his beer.

  Paddy snuggled against her thigh, Murphy dealt her cards, and she took a sip of warm beer. Life was good.

  *

  “Wake up. Now,” Murphy whispered urgently in her ear.

  Startled, her eyes flew open. Her mind was thick from sleep and she was momentarily disoriented. Bleary eyed, she could only see Murphy’s silhouette against the evening’s backdrop outside the doorway. The building was plunged into darkness because their torches were turned off.

  “Alex—”

  “Why have you switched the torches off?” she asked, rubbing her grainy eyes. Her body was slow on the uptake, but her mind was now fully awake and attuned to the sense of danger.

  “There are survivors outside.”

  Alex scrambled to her feet but Murphy pulled her down into a squat. His clothes were wet. “Paddy and I went outside to relieve ourselves and I saw them. They’re still a little way off.”

  “How many?”

  Murphy shook his head. “I don’t know. I saw two running toward this place, but then in the distance I think I heard—”

  “What?”

  “An engine. I’ve got a really bad feeling.”

  Alex’s heart pounded. “We’re not going to have time to pack up everything. Just pick up your essentials and anything else you can carry. We need to get out of here. Now.”

  They both scrambled, trying t
o find their belongings in the dark. As she shouldered her rucksack, a terrible thought struck. “Where’s Paddy?”

  Murphy spun around aghast. “I dunno. I swear he came back in here with me. Shit.”

  They both looked around but the darkness was too prevalent without a source of light.

  “Keep packing.” Alex crept into the darkness whispering as loud as she dared, “Paddy? Here, boy.” The only sounds were her boots crunching on unseen debris and the pounding of rain on the roof. “Paddy? Please come here.” She sensed their time running out, but couldn’t bring herself to leave without him.

  Her foot struck something hard and sent it skidding across the tiled floor with a loud metallic scrape. Flinching, she held her breath and waited. A tiny whimper came from her right. “Paddy?” she said again. This time she heard the familiar sound of clawed paws coming toward her and nearly cried out when the familiar furry body brushed up against her legs. In one fell swoop, she had him protectively wrapped in her arms. She reached the doorway where Murphy hid to the side. She didn’t need to ask why. Their time was up.

  The hum of some kind of engine and incoherent voices were close.

  “Is there another way out?” Murphy asked, taking hold of Paddy.

  She shook her head. How could she have been so stupid? Her dad had always warned her about making sure she had at least two escape routes. Quietly, she crouched and peered around the wooden frame. Her gaze focused on two figures. A young girl and guy stood on the far verge. They were holding hands and the guy was trying to pull the girl onward. She looked exhausted and stumbled a few steps before stopping again. They kept looking behind; everything about their body language suggested fear.

  The wind and rain wreaked havoc with sound. Ghostly snippets of their voices carried on the gusts. His tone sounded desperate, pleading even. The girl’s tone sounded scared. No matter how acutely Alex listened, most of the words and meaning were beyond her grasp.

  A dim light came from the direction they were looking. As it brightened, lighting up more of the muddy verge, the sound of an approaching vehicle grew louder. The guy pointed to the station and tried to pull the girl again. She shook her head and clung to him.