The Renegade

by Amy Dunne

  “No engagement ring?”

  She shook her head. “I lost it within the first week of having it. I’m always losing stuff. We always joke that I’d lose my head if it wasn’t screwed on.” She gave a weak laugh that sounded more like a croak. “Murphy wanted to replace it, but I told him not to bother. We didn’t have the money and it didn’t seem important at the time. On our wedding day, I swore to him I’d never take this one off and I haven’t.”

  “Murphy doesn’t wear a ring.”

  “He did, at first. But he put on a lot of weight and it became an uncomfortable fit.”

  “He’s lanky and thin.”

  “He’s tall. But it’s only since we’ve been travelling that he’s really lost the weight and got fit. A few years ago, he was a lot bigger.”

  “What happened to the ring?”

  “I think he must have lost it.”

  “What a coincidence. You’re both good at losing things. Perhaps you should have made him promise not to take it off.”

  “Maybe. Although, I think when all of your loved ones are dying of a horrendous plague before your eyes, and you’re certain you’re going to be next, it’s understandable when an item of jewellery is misplaced.”

  A smirk twitched at the right corner of David’s mouth. “Where did you meet him?” He crossed his arms and stretched out his legs, as if making himself comfortable for a long story.

  Alex forced a weak smile. “We met in a park. He was out for a bike ride with two friends. I was jogging and it was a hot day, the next thing I knew I fainted. I woke up to see his face hovering above me. It scared the shit out of me. But he was so caring and funny. He helped escort me back to the car park and used his mobile to call my dad. A few days later he called my dad’s phone again, to see how I was doing. I spoke to him and he asked me out for a drink. I fell for his Irish charm straight away and the rest is history.”

  “What date did you get married?”

  Her heart missed a beat. “The twenty-fifth of February 2013.” The date had been her dad’s sixtieth birthday.

  “What day was that?” David asked too casually, his pen poised to scribble more notes.

  “Saturday. We got married in Murphy’s local Catholic church, called St. Mary’s. I’m not Catholic, so we had to go to monthly classes about marriage for six months beforehand.” Luckily, Jenna from work had married Craig. She wasn’t Catholic so they’d had the classes. Jenna filled her in after every session.

  David scratched his chin. “Are you religious?”

  “I’ve always been open-minded. Murphy’s devout, so I suppose a bit has rubbed off on me. I’ve got to admit, I find it difficult to comprehend how any God could let this much suffering happen to everyone.”

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways. It’s not our place to question him.”

  Alex ground her teeth, preventing herself from responding. What bullshit!

  “You know what’s remarkable?” David asked.

  “What?” Alex asked, biting as he obviously intended her to do.

  “You’re the first married couple that’s survived the Red Death. It’s really very remarkable. Some might say, unbelievably lucky.”

  Alex raised her chin. “We’re very blessed. Like you said, the Lord works in mysterious ways.” They held one another’s gaze for a few more seconds before Alex looked down at the table. She rested her head in her hands and took a number of deep breaths. “Do you have a bin or something?”

  “Why?”

  “I think I’m going to puke. The doctor said taking the blood might make me queasy, and this room is so hot.” Alex retched. Acid scorched her throat and the regurgitated sweetness of the tea and cereal bar flooded her mouth. Without looking up, she heard David’s chair scrape back and heavyset footsteps rush to the door. A moment later a dented metal bin, filled with papers and rubbish miraculously appeared in front of her. After a bout of sickness, she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. A full bottle of water rested on the table beside her arm. She didn’t hesitate in opening it and taking a sip. She gargled and spat into the bin, cleansing her mouth. She slid the bin away from her, using her foot.

  “Sorry,” she said feigning embarrassment, but feeling anything but.

  “Take her to room thirteen. Lock the door. Stand guard outside. No one, and I mean no one, goes in or out without my permission.” David stood in the corridor. His top lip curled in disgust. “We’ll continue our chat soon.”

  Alex gave a weak smile. “Sure thing.”

  David left the doorway, and Alex leisurely took another few slow, deliberate sips of water before turning to the armed guard. “Shall we go?”

  “Do you want to bring the bin with you?” he asked, looking peaked himself.

  “I think I’ll be okay, providing we take it slow.” She stood and the guard gestured for her to lead the way. “Left or right?”

  “Right,” he said.

  Alex turned right and began walking down the corridor. She gripped the bottle of water tightly and made a mental note of where she was going. She would bide her time, continue to play nice, and learn all she could about this place, while Evelyn tried to save Murphy. But when the time came to leave, nothing would stop her.

  She swayed and dramatically gripped the wall for support.

  “Are you okay?” the guard asked, his hands unwelcome in trying to hold her up. But at least his hand wasn’t near the trigger.

  “Yes, I’m just a bit weak. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Here, let me help support you.”

  She ground her teeth as an arm snuck around her waist. He held her too tightly, but she didn’t squirm or fight. “Thank you.”

  “Not a problem. We’re not too far away.”

  She had never been so relieved to see two metallic numbers. They shone like beacons of hope. “I think I can manage the last few steps. Thanks.” The guy reluctantly let go and followed a little too closely behind her.

  He opened the door with one of the keys from a jingling chain. “Most rooms used to be card operated. You know, like hotels. But these ones are in the older wings. Not quite as up to date.” The lock clicked and the door swung open. “You should be able to use the light, but the bathrooms on this block don’t work. I’ll get someone to bring you a bucket.”

  “Is there anywhere for me to clean myself up?”

  “The showers are in the newer block. I’m sure David will let you have one soon. For now, you’re probably best to just rest.”

  “What’s your name?” Alex asked sweetly, turning her mouth away, as she was overly aware that her breath stank of vomit.

  “Bob,” he said in a rush. A flush spread up his neck, covering his face, and the balding patch of his head. He was the same height as Alex, but significantly more pudgy. He pushed his glasses up his nose, clearly uncomfortable.

  “I’m Alex. Thank you for helping me.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” He reluctantly closed the door.

  Alex looked around the room. It was clean and bare. A single bed was made up with a pillow and bed sheets. The wood looked flimsy and she doubted it could be used as a weapon. There were marks on the carpet and discoloured stains on the wall from heavy furniture that no longer occupied the room. A white square on the wall was the only trace that a frame or mirror used to hang. She walked to the window and peered out. There was nothing visible thanks to the cloaking darkness. The window itself wasn’t made of glass. It felt like thick plastic. She knew it wouldn’t shatter, so there would be no escape and no weapons to be forged from it. The curtains looked old and thin. She pulled them across and sighed as a two-inch gap remained in the middle of the window. She considered smashing the light bulb, but then decided she’d appreciate the light source more than broken glass. Plus, she reminded herself forcefully, she was supposed to be harmless, and David would be monitoring her closely. She didn’t want to contribute to his suspicions.

  The bathroom had a shower, sink, and toilet. She tried all of the taps and swi
tches, but not a single drop of water appeared from the rusty faucets. Even the toilet bowl was empty, and the once-white porcelain was stained with old dirty watermarks.

  With nothing left to do, she switched off the light, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and walked to the bed. She pulled back the blankets and climbed beneath them. The mattress was thin and lumpy and the blankets smelled musty. She missed the smell of the outdoors; the smoke from their fire, the rain, the vegetation, and sweet flowers. The room was too silent. She longed for the comforting sounds of nature and Paddy’s little snores beside her. She even missed Murphy’s out-of-tune singing.

  They were trapped in this place. It was a prison. How had they been so stupid to take their freedom for granted? Why had they even considered seeking out other survivors and civilization?

  She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. She needed sleep. Worrying about Murphy, Paddy, and their future was pointless. Her reserves were depleted and she couldn’t afford to nourish her panic and stress. With calming breaths, she caressed Evelyn’s ring and willed sleep to come.

  *

  She slept for the longest time but it wasn’t restful, her dreams nightmarish and full of terrors. She awoke to her screams echoing off the claustrophobic walls. Sweat dampened her clothes and her heart thundered. Disorientation caused amnesia. Where was she? What was happening? Where were Murphy and Paddy?

  Panic swelled inside, and a shot of raw adrenaline coursed through her veins, demanding action. She jumped to her feet, clenched her fists, and stood in the dark room prepared to fight or flee. But finally reality sank in.

  A little while later, with a heavy heart and the unprecedented weariness weighing her body down again, no matter how hard she fought to fight against the exhaustion to remain groggily awake, she drowned once more beneath the waves of suffocating slumber.

  A fleeting memory proved to not be a figment of her imagination. A bright light had swept down on her, followed by a metallic clunk, and the door shutting. A metallic bin similar to the one she’d vomited in, if not the exact same one, was placed upside down with a roll of toilet paper on top. Humiliated, she rolled onto her side and faced the wall.

  Daylight pierced through from the gap in the curtains and lightened the room. Dust particles floated effortlessly in the air swirling in a hypnotic dance, defying the laws of gravity. The view beyond the window was now visible, but proved to be disappointing. A patch of overgrown grass and weeds lay beneath the window, and red bricks of another building’s wall blocked any other view. A small rectangle of cloudy grey sky hung overhead, but the sun was hidden.

  At some point, the door opened and a bowl of food and two bottles of water were left. She picked up the tray and grimaced. A polystyrene bowl was full of unappetizing grey porridge. She unenthusiastically prodded the glutinous mass with her plastic spoon. It didn’t move. It was set and stone cold, and a thick layer of skin had developed on top. She’d never really eaten porridge, but was certain it wasn’t supposed to resemble the texture of wet concrete.

  “You could have at least provided some sugar,” she said loud enough for the guard to hear, but got no response. There was nothing else for it. She needed the nutrition.

  The first spoonful was so dense it caused the plastic spoon to bend slightly, threatening to snap altogether. She dislodged the mound into her mouth and didn’t even attempt to chew it. After an initial struggle to swallow, she helped it along with a mouthful of water. Half the bowl later, she had to give up. Her stomach lurched with every mouthful and she was drinking far too much water. Eventually, she’d have to use the bin, but she wanted to put it off for as long as possible.

  Time dragged and boredom set in. She’d rather spend the time being interrogated by David than deal with lonely sensory deprivation. It was strange to think that just a matter of months ago, she’d wanted nothing more than to remain alone. She should have been careful what she’d wished for.

  After an age, the door opened again. Phil stepped into the room and dropped some packets of food and another bottle of water onto the floor. He sneered and left. Alex picked up the items; a cereal bar, a packet of salted crisps, which were past the expiry date by five months, and a broken packet of plain crackers. The meal would be extremely dry, but anything had to be better than grey porridge.

  She started with the crackers, followed by the crisps, and finally the cereal bar, which she savoured, because it tasted of oats and honey. Passing the time took effort, but by humming, thinking of fond memories, exercising, dozing, and thinking up ways to hurt Phil and David, she kept herself occupied. She made a conscious effort to stop biting her nails, as with her teeth and fists, they were the closest things she had to weapons.

  At one point, she heard a familiar yapping from outside. She wondered if it was her imagination playing cruel tricks on her, but placed an ear against the fake window and heard it more clearly. Paddy was outside somewhere. He didn’t sound distressed; it was his playful bark, and it was accompanied by what sounded like childish laughter. She rested her head on the window long after his barking faded. Hearing him had broken her heart, but it also gave relief. He was alive—for the time being at least.

  The sky outside grew dark. She drew the curtains and switched on the light. The feel and smell of her body and clothes bothered her. Maybe it was psychological, but she could smell the overpowering stench of metallic blood, sour body odour, and earthy dirt. The layers of material felt stiff like cardboard and harshly chafed against her skin. Her boots and trousers were caked in dried gunk. She took to breathing through her mouth in an attempt to stop heaving.

  A simple knock sounded on the door. It was a surprise, purely because up to now the door had opened and closed without warning. The knocking was polite and she was too stunned to react. The lock clicked and the door opened, revealing the old man she’d seen briefly the day before. He smiled and said, “Hello. I’ve brought you your dinner. May I place this tray on your bed?”

  Alex stepped aside and watched as he carefully set the tray down. Another polystyrene bowl and plastic spoon accompanied tomato soup, another bottle of water, a carton of apple juice, and another packet of crackers. “Thank you.”

  The old man shrugged. “It’s not much. But you need to eat to keep your strength up. I’ve been told to take away the tray. Do you mind if I hand you the soup and leave everything else here?”

  Alex graciously accepted the soup. Once again, her meal was cold. A painful thought about how amusing Murphy would find the prospect of her being forced to eat tomato soup made her heart ache.

  The man glanced at the door before stepping closer. “I’m Joe, a friend of Evelyn’s. She sent me.”

  Alex’s heart missed a beat. “How’s Murphy? Why couldn’t she come herself?”

  “Your husband,” he gave a knowing look before continuing, “is still in a serious condition. His wound is infected and he’s running a high fever. Evelyn’s doing everything she can. That’s part of the reason she couldn’t come.”

  Alex struggled to swallow. This man knew about her fake marriage to Murphy. What was Evelyn thinking? She obviously trusted him, or else he wouldn’t be delivering the message. And what about Murphy? She should be with him. If things took a turn for the worse, she needed to say good-bye. “Will they let me see him?”

  Joe shook his head. “Not right now anyway.”

  “You said ‘part of the reason’ she couldn’t come?”

  “She can’t be too involved with you. It would look suspicious. We’re supposed to be wary of you.”

  Alex hissed in frustration. This whole situation was stupid. She stood in what was basically a prison cell, holding a bowl of tomato gazpacho, while her best friend was fighting for his life. “I’m going crazy in here. I need to get out. I need to do something useful.”

  “Listen to me. Be very careful. You only get one shot at this. You need to convince them you’re not a threat. If they agree to let you join this community, which they should do b
ecause they need women, only then will you be safe enough to help your friend. If they decide you’re too much of a risk, you’re both in serious trouble. Do you understand?” His watery blue eyes held her gaze until she looked away.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He patted her arm softly. “Patience. That’s all you need.”

  “Is my dog okay?”

  “He’s fine. I’m helping look after him when Scott does his shifts. The children are taken with him, none so much as Jamie, though. They seem to have struck up a firm friendship. It’s good to see the boy smile and laugh.”

  Alex sat on the edge of the bed. “I thought I heard them playing outside.”

  “You did.”

  “His name is Paddy,” Alex said with a weak smile.

  Joe smiled. “He’s certainly got a personality and some teeth.”

  “He hasn’t bitten you, has he?” Alex asked, her stomach lurching. If he bit anyone, they’d put him down. She was sure of it.

  “Oh, no. He’s just teething and trying his luck on any inanimate objects that happen to cross his path. He’s as soft as butter when it comes to humans, especially the children.”

  “I’ve never had a dog before. He kind of adopted me. He’s very loving.”

  “He is indeed. I’m afraid I’ve got to go, just remember what I said about patience.”

  Alex stood. “I will. Thank you for coming.”

  “I’ll try and come back, but chances are they won’t let me. They’re edging on the side of caution. David’s very wary of you.” He gave a final wave of his hand before the door closed and the lock engaged.

  Alex felt a little better after Joe’s visit. It was good to hear news and speak to another person. Murphy and Paddy were being looked after. All that was left was her task to persuade David to let them all stay, at least until Murphy was better. She sensed that was going to be easier said than done, but their lives depended on it. She had no choice but to go all out.

  *