Dark Survival

by Ryan Casey

  Harriet looked around at Oscar. She stroked his hair. “We’re going on an adventure. But until Mummy says, you’re going to have to keep very quiet. Okay?”

  Oscar looked like he wanted to ask so many questions. But in the end, he just nodded. “Okay, Mummy.”

  “Good lad.”

  She turned around. Looked at Peter’s body one final time. It’d stopped bleeding out. His eyes were glazed over. His tongue dangled between his lips. He didn’t look like a man anymore. Just a shell of what was.

  And then she looked at that open door, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

  She rushed over Peter’s body, over to the door, readied herself to head outside.

  Then, she heard the front door swing open.

  “Peter? Clive? You guys in here?”

  The hairs on Harriet’s arms stood on end.

  Clive’s eyes widened.

  “Peter? You in there?”

  Footsteps approaching the kitchen.

  Getting closer.

  She looked at Clive, and he looked at her.

  And in the silence, they knew what they had to do.

  “Come on,” Clive said. “We’ve got to get out of here. Now!”

  Harriet wasn’t waiting around. She rushed out of the kitchen, out into the cold, frosty yard. She raced across the tarmac, towards the bottom of the yard, towards that rickety old gate that led to the alleyway behind the houses.

  She couldn’t look back. Not for Clive. Not for anything.

  She just had to run.

  She clutched Oscar’s hand, tighter than she knew would be comfortable. Reached the foot of the garden. Tried to yank open the gate. The damned thing was shut. Locked. Why was everything frigging locked here?

  She went to lift Oscar over the fence. It was her only choice.

  Then she heard shouting behind her.

  She looked back and regretted it right away.

  Clive stood facing the kitchen. Knife raised.

  Two other blokes—Peter’s cronies—rushed towards him. Shouting at him. Urging him to get on his knees. They were looking right at Clive. Didn’t look like they’d seen her or Oscar. Not yet.

  Harriet wanted to go back. She wanted to help Clive. She said she didn’t sympathise with him, but he’d helped her. He didn’t have to help her, but he had. She owed him for that.

  But then she saw the way he looked back at her. The fear in his eyes. The way he looked around at her, mouthing the words.

  “Go. Run. Just go!”

  She stood there. Oscar in her arms. The shouting getting louder. Time running out.

  And she knew she needed to get away from here.

  She knew this was her opportunity.

  She knew she needed to act.

  She lifted Oscar higher and perched him on the wall.

  “Mummy? What’re you—”

  “I’m coming, okay? Just pretend you’re a king. A king in a castle, okay?”

  She pulled herself onto the wall then. Sat on the edge of it. Looked down at the alleyway behind the wall, then the metal fence leading off into a wooded area.

  She heard the shouting get louder. Heard a cry.

  Looked around and saw Clive on his knees. Knife on the ground.

  Bleeding out.

  The two men standing over him. Looking down at him.

  She saw Clive glance around. Saw the sadness in his eyes. The blood trickling from his lips.

  And she saw him mouth those words, once more.

  “Go. Go.”

  She grabbed Oscar’s hand and spun around. Dropped down into the alleyway.

  And then she clambered through the widened gaps in the metal fence.

  “Mummy?”

  She looked at Oscar as they stood there on the edge of these woods. On the threshold between her old life and whatever life lay ahead.

  “Yes, love?”

  He looked back towards the shouting. The gasping. The crying.

  “Will Clive be okay?”

  She swallowed a sickly lump in her throat and held her son’s hand tighter. “I hope so. I hope so.”

  Then she looked ahead, through the trees.

  “Now come on. We’ve got to get out of here. We’ve got to go. Now.”

  She took a deep breath as the chaos ensued behind her.

  As she prepared to walk away from certainty, from security, from stability, from shelter.

  And then she let that breath go, and with Oscar’s hand in hers, she ran.

  Chapter Twenty

  Martin waited until he was absolutely certain nobody was around before stepping closer to the caravan site.

  It was late afternoon. Going dark already. Today was a blur. Their first real day on the road and they were still out of supplies. Still without shelter.

  But that would change.

  All they needed to do was raid this caravan site for what it had.

  All they had to do was get away from here and then continue on the road.

  Step by step.

  Day by day.

  Martin stared at the static caravans beyond the trees. He’d seen people earlier. At least five of them here. All of them seemed to be surviving pretty successfully. They had food cooking away. They had shelter. And they had weapons. Who knows what else they had?

  But they had to be careful going in here and taking what they had. If this group had made it this far, then they weren’t going to give up their supplies without a fight.

  Which meant avoiding a fight was the best possible outcome.

  So he’d waited until he’d seen them disappear into the woods before making his move.

  “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

  Martin looked to his side. Saw Ella sitting there. A look of concern on her face. She didn’t seem happy about this. She’d argued all day that they should try and reach out to these people. They should try and communicate with them rather than stealing from them. It wasn’t the “moral” thing to do, she said, in a way that irritated Martin no end. Like there was any value in morals in this world anymore.

  He knew in an ideal world her attitude was right.

  But this wasn’t an ideal world.

  And if Martin knew anything about people, it was that they weren’t just going to let two strangers and a dog wander in and share whatever limited stuff they had.

  It had to be a smash and grab. A quick raid of whatever supplies they had, then out of here. As far away from here as they could.

  It was short-term thinking, sure. But without proper shelter, it was all short-term thinking right now.

  He took a deep breath of the cold air. Swallowed a lump in his dry throat. “It’s the only thing to do.”

  He saw the way Ella looked at him. The uncertainty on her face. Bruce perched by her side, sulking.

  “You remember what I said about your role in this?”

  Ella rolled her eyes. “Stay here. Watch for anyone that might be coming.”

  “That’s right. Don’t look too enthusiastic.”

  “I just don’t get why I can’t help.”

  “You are helping. This is helping.”

  “I mean properly helping.”

  Martin understood her concerns. And to be honest, he wasn’t comfortable leaving Ella alone in the woods with Bruce.

  But anything was better than dragging her into that caravan site.

  Anything was better than putting her in severe danger like that.

  He looked back at her, and he half-smiled. “I’ll be back in no time. I’ll grab some food. Some supplies. I’ve seen where they keep the bulk of their stuff. I’ll be back in no time. We’ll be better for it. I promise.”

  For a moment, he thought Ella was going to argue again.

  But she closed her mouth. Sighed. “Don’t go dying on me.”

  Martin smiled back. “I appreciate the pep talk.”

  He turned around to that caravan site. Appreciated the risk. Appreciated just how dangerous this w
as.

  And then he focused on the task at hand and stood.

  He walked into the site. Didn’t look back once. He couldn’t. If he looked back at Ella, he’d be tempted to turn around. Go back to her.

  He couldn’t start having second thoughts. Not now.

  He crept across the frosty ground. The further he got into this caravan site, the more creeped out he felt. It was weird, visiting places like this. Seeing the cars parked in the drives beside the caravans. Seeing the autumn leaves covering the caravans themselves; older vans, not the modern type. A proper caravan site, not one of these modern complexes, cut off from the rest of society. It looked worn down. The caravans were rusty. The whole place looked unkept.

  But Martin got the sense that it’d always been this way. This wasn’t just something that’d happened because of the blackout. It’d always been a shit tip.

  And he kind of liked it.

  Even if it did scare the shit out of him.

  He walked towards the caravan on the right, where he’d seen the food barbecuing. Saw the scraps of a deer sitting over that stove. He licked his lips. He knew he shouldn’t be greedy. He should take just enough for him, Ella, and Bruce.

  But then taking the whole deer would last them a lot longer.

  And besides. He didn’t know these people. He didn’t know what they were capable of. And he owed them nothing.

  Might as well take the whole thing.

  He reached the smoking pit, daylight receding, when he heard shuffling to his left.

  He froze. Spun around. Stared into the distance.

  He saw something shuffling in there.

  Swore he heard voices.

  But then he shook his head. Shrugged it off. Just the wind, that’s all it was. Just the damned wind.

  He turned back around to that deer and approached it.

  When he reached it, his heart raced. He salivated. He wanted nothing more than to tuck into it right now. That crisp fleshy meat. That barbecued tang. He could sink his teeth into it as it was and have no regrets. What a bloody savage he’d become.

  He crouched down. Went to lift it up.

  Then he saw something else.

  In the corner of his eye, he spotted a bunch of tools. Spanners. Hammers. Stuff that would come in handy. Stuff he could use.

  He looked over his shoulder again. Didn’t see anyone.

  Then he crept over to the side of that caravan. Picked up a few of the tools. Stuffed them into a rucksack he’d found lying around beside one of the caravans. It was a start. Weapons. Tools. Always came in handy.

  He turned back around. Rushed over to the deer. He swore he heard more voices in the woods. More footsteps. More movement.

  Idiot. It’s all in your head. Just get the deer and get out of here. Get the damned deer and get out of here.

  He reached for the deer. Grabbed it. Lifted it, careful not to spill any of that damned precious meat.

  “I’m coming, Ella. I’m coming.”

  When he turned around to head back, he froze.

  Ella stood there.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Three blokes stood behind her.

  Bearded. Long-haired. Dishevelled.

  Two were holding knives. Another, a hammer.

  “You going somewhere, matey?” one of the blokes asked.

  Smile on his face.

  Knife pressed to Ella’s neck.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Harriet didn’t stop running until she physically couldn’t take another step.

  It was late. Getting dark already. Even though she’d been running all day, she felt bitter cold. She didn’t know whether it was the shock wearing off. The realisation that this was her life now.

  The realisation that there was no going back to Lancaster; to the shelter.

  This was her life now.

  Trees surrounded her. She couldn’t tell one from the other. She hadn’t seen anyone for ages. But she got the feeling that Peter’s cronies would be chasing her. Hunting her down. Closing in. Had they seen her? Were they on to her? She didn’t know. She couldn’t be sure.

  But she was sure of one thing.

  There were probably even worse people hiding in the woods, waiting in the shadows...

  “I’m tired, Mummy.”

  Harriet planted her hands on her knees. Oscar clung on to her back. She’d been carrying him for the last few hours. Her back felt permanently damaged. Her muscles were so weak. She wanted nothing more than to settle down to some scraps of food and tuck up in her freezing, damp home.

  But she was in the middle of the woods. There was no shelter in sight. She didn’t have a clue how to catch any food.

  She was stranded.

  Both of them were.

  Again. You never knew how lucky you were until you lost everything.

  She crouched down. Eased Oscar off her back, sat in the leaves. She put her head in her hands, just for a second. Not any longer, though. She didn’t want to worry Oscar. He was already worried as it was.

  “Are we gonna find a new bed for me, Mummy?”

  “Soon, love. Maybe not tonight. But soon.”

  Oscar looked around, holding his body, fear and confusion in his eyes. “But if we don’t find a new bed tonight, when do we—”

  “Soon, love. Okay?”

  She saw his head lower, and she regretted snapping right away.

  “Hey. I’m sorry. Mummy’s just... Mummy’s tired too, okay?”

  “But I thought you were a superhero?”

  Harriet frowned. “I am a superhero.”

  “But can’t superheroes run forever?”

  Harriet put a hand on her son’s back. Felt his warmth against her shaking hand. “Even superheroes need to take a break sometimes.”

  She kept on catching glimpses at the crusted blood on her hands. Kept on thinking back to Peter. Wedging that sharp piece of pot in his neck. Listening to him splutter and choke. Hearing his head slam against the floor and watching him twitch and quiver.

  And then she thought back to Clive.

  The way she’d blackmailed him.

  The way he’d been so afraid.

  But then the way he’d stood up for her and Oscar. The way he’d ordered them to run.

  All she knew after that was that he’d cried out.

  She didn’t have to see what happened to know.

  She rubbed her hands together. Then she wrapped an arm around Oscar. The way she saw it, she had two options. She could give up and almost certainly die. Or she could try and forge some kind of life for her and her son.

  Maybe she’d find a new home. Maybe she’d find a place with people she could trust.

  Or maybe she’d teach herself how to hunt—as grim a thought as that was.

  Maybe she’d teach herself all the ways of surviving in a world like this. Just her and her boy. Together.

  She sighed.

  She knew that was a fantasy.

  She knew it wasn’t reality.

  “What would the prince do?” Oscar asked.

  Harriet looked at him. Frowned. “What?”

  “The prince,” Oscar said. “When he lost his castle. And the queen. They were strong enough. They got strong again. To fight the dragon. To take the castle back. Right?”

  Harriet thought of the city of Lancaster. She thought about going back there. Fantasised about taking out every single one of Peter’s cronies and restoring order. Restoring some kind of structure.

  But again. It was just fantasy.

  It wasn’t reality. It was a story.

  A story that wasn’t coming true.

  “The prince and the queen found their way,” Harriet said, pulling Oscar closer. “One way or another.”

  She held him close. Looked off into the distance, off into the trees. The light grew darker. The thought of a night alone in the cold darkness of the woods terrified her.

  But tomorrow would be a new day.

  Tomorrow would be a new chance.

  A c
hance to keep on going.

  A chance to keep on trying.

  A chance to start surviving.

  “We’re going to be okay. Aren’t we, Mummy?”

  Harriet closed her eyes. Squeezed them tight. Pushed back the tears. She didn’t want to cry in front of Oscar. She didn’t want him to see her upset. She wanted him to see her as his rock. She didn’t want him to doubt her. Not for a moment.

  “Yes, soldier. You and I are going to be fine. Because we’re fighters. Like we’ve always been.”

  She looked at him. He stared back at her. Not smiling. Wide-eyed. Like he wasn’t sure.

  “You promise?” he asked.

  Harriet put on her biggest, fakest smile, and looked right into Oscar’s eyes. “I promise.”

  For a split second, just a moment, she saw a smile creep up Oscar’s cheeks.

  And then she heard rustling up ahead.

  She heard footsteps in the fallen leaves.

  And then she heard something that made every muscle in her body turn to jelly.

  She heard a growl.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Drop those supplies right this second, or I cut her throat. It’s as simple as that, buddy.”

  Martin held on to the carcass of the deer. Bruce was nowhere to be seen. All he could do was stare ahead at those three blokes.

  Their leader holding a knife to Ella’s neck.

  He heard shuffling to his left and right. Looked around, past the caravans. Saw people emerging from the trees. Just two of them. Shit. They must’ve been who he’d heard earlier. He should’ve listened to his instincts all along. He was an idiot for ever wandering in here. An idiot for even thinking they’d just leave their supplies lying around.

  “Seriously, pal,” the man with the knife to Ella’s neck said. He was tall, thin, with long hair and a few scars on his face. “You don’t wanna mess around with us here. There’s two ways this can go. You can co-operate. Or you can watch your daughter die. What’s it gonna be?”

  Martin saw the look on Ella’s face. He saw the fear in Ella’s wide eyes. But more than anything, he could sense her disappointment. She’d been eager for them to go about this a different way. She’d cautioned him about storming in here and stealing from these people. She was right all along.

  But as much as Martin wanted to hold on to this deer and these tools, he had a priority. That priority was Ella.