by Ryan Casey
And she stood to her feet.
“But I’m not afraid anymore,” she said. “I’m not afraid because I know sometimes, there’s things I have to do. Things I don’t want to do. But things I have to do. For the good of my son.”
She pushed that knife even further in. So deep in that she swore she saw Gavin crying tears of blood.
“And I’m not scared,” she said. “I’m not afraid. You’re the one who should be afraid. Anyone who tries to hurt my son is the one who should be afraid. And you’ll pay for it. Every single one of you will pay for it.”
“Pl—please. Please.”
Harriet felt her stomach sink as she stood there. Gavin’s blood spurting all over her hand. “I’m sorry, Gavin. Like I said. I always thought you were one of the good ones. I’m sorry you proved me wrong.”
She dragged the knife from his neck.
Felt more blood pool out.
Saw him struggling. Shaking. Twitching.
She watched him fall to the floor. Watched him lying there. Holding his neck. Shaking.
She felt the adrenaline. She felt the horror that she knew would come to her in nightmares. The memories. The flashbacks.
But she didn’t feel fear.
Not about doing what she had to do.
Not anymore.
She stepped over Gavin’s body. Walked over to the door. Covered in blood. She opened that door. Braced herself to step outside. To face whatever was out there.
She grabbed the handle of the door when she heard a bang.
She froze. Her body went cold.
She didn’t want to move a muscle.
She didn’t want to see what was out there.
But at the same time, she knew she had to.
She took a deep breath.
Grabbed that handle tighter.
And then she turned the handle and stepped outside.
Into the unknown.
Chapter Forty-Three
When Martin heard the gunshot, his first instinct was not to look.
He didn’t want to look at Ella. He didn’t want to see his worst fears confirmed. Because he couldn’t face it. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her and see her on her knees. Shot. Or worse.
But at the same time... he had to look.
He had to turn to her.
He had to see.
When he looked around, he saw Ella standing.
Ella held on to the rifle.
She pointed it at the bloke.
The bloke stood opposite Martin.
Held his chest.
He looked down at the blood pooling from his body.
Then he looked up at Martin. Right into his eyes. Sadness there. Confusion.
And then he saw the man tense his fists and swing that knife towards her.
“Ella!” Martin said.
But it was too late.
Ella lifted her rifle.
Pointed it at the man as he flew towards her.
Pulled the trigger.
But nothing happened.
Nothing came out.
The man flew onto Ella. Pushed her to the floor. Pulled back his knife.
And Martin knew he had to do something. He had to grab his own rifle. He had to act.
But it was too far away.
And he had too little time left.
So he threw himself at the bloke and smacked him across the side of his face.
He knocked the man off Ella. Pushed her over. Kneeled atop him. Smacked him across the face repeatedly.
He looked down at this man’s bloodied face, at the blood pooling from his torso, as the man stared back up at him. Confused. Afraid.
And then he pulled back his fist once more.
“I told you we’d get what we wanted.”
And then he cracked him across his face.
He stared down at him. Watched him turn his head around. Saw him look right up at him.
A smile to his face.
“Harriet,” he spat. “You—you don’t realise how much danger she’s in. How—how much trouble she’s in.”
Martin looked up at the outhouse.
His body went numb.
It was still so quiet in there.
Still so silent in there.
He had to get up, and he had to—
“Dad!”
He looked down.
Saw the man swinging a fist at his throat.
He punched it out of the way, instinctively.
Pinned his hand down.
And then he grabbed the man by his throat.
“You’ll regret ever crossing me,” he said.
And then he smacked him in the throat, listened to him choke.
He stood, then. And he realised something.
Oscar.
Oscar was nowhere to be seen.
“Oscar,” Martin said, stumbling away from the man’s choking body. “Ella. Did you see him?”
Ella stood there. Pale-faced. Shook her head.
“We have to find him,” Martin said, walking towards that outhouse. We have to find Harriet. We have to...”
He stopped, then.
His body froze.
The door to that outhouse opened.
He expected all kinds of things. All kinds of horrors. The bloke stepping out. Blood on his hands. Smile on his face.
But something else happened.
Harriet.
Harriet stepped out.
Blood on her hands.
“Martin?” she said.
Martin wanted to uphold his defences. He didn’t want to lose face.
But there was nothing he could do to stop his reaction. “Harriet,” he said.
He walked over to her. Stood in front of her.
And he found himself opening his arms.
He saw Harriet stepping into them. Felt her holding him. Felt her warmth against his chest.
He stood there and stroked her hair, which smelled of blood.
“It’s alright,” Martin said. “It’s—it’s alright now.”
“Oscar,” she said, stepping back, eyes widening. “Where—where’s Oscar?”
Martin wanted to tell her it was okay. He wanted to tell her he knew where Oscar was. But he didn’t. He was lost.
“There,” Ella said.
Martin spun around. “What...”
But before he could say another word, he saw something.
Ella.
Ella holding that rifle in hand.
Racing off behind the outhouse.
Towards someone in the distance.
Someone holding Oscar under their arms.
“Ella!” Martin shouted.
He raced after Ella as quickly as he could. Harriet trailed behind him, Bruce alongside him. Up ahead, Oscar screamed out, cried out.
“Ella!”
He saw Ella lift her rifle. Saw her point it at that man as she got closer and closer.
“Ella, don’t. It’s too risky. It’s too—”
And then he heard something.
A bang.
He stopped dead. Looked up ahead.
Waited for a scream.
For a cry.
He couldn’t see a thing. Not anymore.
Not in the darkness.
“Oscar!” Harriet cried.
She ran ahead of Martin. No sense of the world around her. No focus on anything other than her boy.
And all Martin could do was listen to those shouts echo.
All he could do was think of reaching the man. Reaching Oscar.
Finding them both dead.
All because of Ella’s gunshot.
He didn’t want to keep running. He didn’t want to see.
But he knew he had to.
He ran forward. Sickness creeping through his body. Harriet’s shouts haunting as they bounced around his skull.
He was about to speak to Harriet, to tell her he was here, to tell her everything was going to be okay, when he saw them in front of him.
Ella. Standing there. Crouched do
wn.
A man lying on the ground.
And someone with him.
Someone still.
Someone—
“Mummy?”
Martin’s eyes widened.
Oscar stood there. Thumb in his mouth. Eyes wide and tearful. He stared over at Harriet. Stared at the blood on her.
And then Martin saw Oscar rush over towards her son.
“Oscar,” she said.
“Mummy.”
They flew into one another. She grabbed him. Held him tight. Cried.
“Is the dragon dead, Mummy?” he said.
“It’s dead,” she said. “It’s over. Mummy’s here, prince. Mummy’s here. And you helped her. You helped her so much.”
“Is it over? Are we safe now?”
“We’re safe, love. We’re safe for now. Okay? We’re safe for now.”
Martin walked over to Ella. He wanted to chastise her. He wanted to curse her for running off.
But the man lay dead on the ground.
Bleeding from his back.
And Ella sat over him.
Oscar alive beside her.
“Hey,” Martin said.
Ella looked up at him. She looked pale. She was still quiet. She looked at him, and she half-smiled.
“The bloke,” she said. “He’s dead.”
Martin nodded. And then he looked back at Ella. “You did good, you know.”
Ella nodded back. “Thanks.”
“No, seriously. I couldn’t have done it without you. You... you saved me. You saved Oscar. You saved all of us. Thank you, love. Thank you.”
That distance remained between them for a few seconds. That tension between them.
And then Ella stepped towards Martin and put an arm around him.
She held him. Quiet, for a while. No words between them.
Not until Ella broke the silence.
“Dad?”
He stepped back. Looked into her eyes. “Yeah?”
She opened her mouth. Went to say something. Looked like she was desperate to get something out. Desperate to speak.
But then she just closed her mouth and wiped a tear from her face. “Nothing. Nothing.”
They stood there together in the darkness. Arms around one another. Martin staring at Harriet and Oscar, who kept on holding each other. The bodies scattered around them. The scent of blood in the air.
And as exhausted as he was, he felt energised.
As distraught and terrified as he was, he felt hope.
Because he was with his people now.
They were all still standing.
They were all together.
He walked over to Harriet. To Oscar.
Saw them turn around and look at him.
“You okay?” he asked.
Harriet looked at Martin. Then at Oscar. Then back at Martin again.
And then, in the cold, moonlit darkness, she smiled.
“Yeah,” she said. “I think we will be. I—I really think we will be.”
They stood together in that darkness.
And no matter how dark it was, how suffocating it was, Martin couldn’t deny feeling something. Something strong.
Martin felt hope.
Chapter Forty-Four
“Is this the place?” Martin asked.
Harriet nodded. “This is it.”
Martin looked at the buildings ahead of him. It was a beautiful morning. Clear blue skies for miles. A gentle, cold breeze, teasing an oncoming winter. And that could’ve sparked fear. It could’ve sparked concerns that winter was well on its way. That soon, survival was going to get a whole lot more difficult—if that was even possible to imagine.
But it didn’t. Instead, Martin felt comforted. He felt happy.
He felt hopeful.
The buildings towered in the distance. It looked like any town, to the naked eye. The rows of terraced houses leading down towards the town centre. Cars filling the streets. Crows swooping down from overhead, singing their harsh songs.
But there was something different about this place. Something that gave it an extra significance.
It was the city of Lancaster.
The city where Harriet and Oscar were staying up until a few days ago.
And it was the city and the shelter Martin was going to attempt to settle down in.
He smelled something in the air. Something like meat cooking over a fire. And it brought his defences rising up. It put him on guard. Because fire meant people, and people meant trouble.
But then he loosened his grip on his rifle. Lowered it, just slightly.
He had to give this place a chance.
He couldn’t tar everybody with the same brush, as much as he wanted to protect Ella.
Because their survival might just depend on it.
There were a lot of concerns, as Martin stood there, the sign for Lancaster towering over him. He worried about the people there. He worried how they’d react to newcomers. He worried how they’d react to Harriet, who’d killed their leader. He worried about the sustainability of this place. He worried about just how quickly things could spiral out of control.
But then Harriet spoke. Cut through his thoughts like she was reading his mind. “There’s supplies there. There’s woodlands all around. Opportunities to hunt. Farms nearby. And there’s people. Lots of people. If we could all come together again… then there might be something worth saving here. There might be something worth fighting for.”
Martin felt dizzy with the thought. He’d been so focused on Ella. So focused on looking out for her. Protecting her. Sheltering her from the world.
But all along, this was what they’d needed. This was what led to their survival. Not running away from things. Not hiding Ella away, being overprotective.
Letting her grow.
Letting them all grow.
“And you’re sure about this place?” Martin asked.
Harriet stopped. Oscar’s hand in hers. He grinned about something. Remarkably chirpy considering what’d happened last night. The optimism of youth was something amazing.
But Harriet didn’t look chirpy. She looked deep in thought. Like she was really considering Martin’s words.
It took her a while to speak. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Not completely. There’s plenty of ways things could go south. There’s—there’s a chance things could collapse all over again. And fast. But there’s also some good people there. People who are afraid. People who just need leadership. Hope. Isn’t that worth fighting for? And if it’s not… what is?”
Martin looked over Harriet’s shoulder again. Down towards those winding streets, right into the centre of Lancaster. This went against all his instincts. All his best judgements. Every voice in his head screamed at him to turn away, to go back to the woods, to survive in there.
But he couldn’t.
Not while Ella was here.
Not while Bruce was here.
And not with Harriet and Oscar, either.
Because they were a team now.
And teams worked together.
Martin looked around at Ella, then.
She looked pale. Her arms covered her chest like they always did when she was worried about something. But she was smiling. A twinkle to her eyes. Optimism. Hope.
“What d’you think?” Martin asked.
Ella frowned. “You’re asking me what I think?”
Martin looked at the road. “I’ve held you back this last month. I’ve not given you a chance to be yourself. To prove yourself. But… but let me make one thing clear, Ella. We wouldn’t be here without you. Not after the things you did to help. So thank you.”
He looked back up at her.
First, he saw shock. Wide-eyes. Ella’s face frozen.
And then he saw tears building.
She stepped over towards him. Wrapped her arms around his body. Hugged him tight.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice shaky.
“No,” he said. “Thank you, Ella. I should�
��ve trusted you more. Should’ve let you help out more. Because you’re strong. Far stronger than any of us.”
He pulled away from her. Saw her staring up at him. Tears in her eyes. Smile on her face.
“I missed you, Dad,” she said, her voice shaking. “But—but I wouldn’t change anything. About the last month. Even as bad as everything’s been. Even as hard as it’s all been and the things we’ve gone through. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Martin felt a lump swell in his throat. Hearing his daughter say these words, it brought it all home. “Don’t be daft.”
“I mean it,” Ella said, sounding so mature, so authoritative. “I love you. And you’re… you’re going to bring hope to Lancaster. You’re going to help everyone survive. Just like you’ve helped me.”
Martin looked into his daughter’s eyes, and he saw something there. Sadness. And something about this exchange gnawed at him. Something about it made him want to ask Ella if everything was okay. If something was on her mind.
But then he saw her smile, and the moment was gone. Gone, like so many.
“Hurry up!” Oscar shouted, bouncing around alongside Bruce, who seemed to be enjoying the playful company of a young kid. “The queen and the prince need to take back the castle before the dragon comes back to life and burns it all down!”
Harriet laughed. She looked over at Martin, raised an eyebrow. “Prince’s commands. I wouldn’t fight if I were you. You two coming or what?”
Martin looked at Ella. Went to speak.
But it was Ella who spoke first.
“I just need to take a leak.”
She stepped away from Martin. Walked over towards the woodland area on the right.
“Really?” Martin said. “You can’t just hold it in a little while?”
Ella stopped. She didn’t turn around. Didn’t look back. Not once.
She just kept on facing that woodland. Kept on looking ahead.
“I won’t be a sec. You… you lot get walking. I’ll catch up.”
Martin watched Ella walk into those trees.
He watched her take a right.
And just before she took that right, he saw her look back.
Saw her make eye contact.
Just once.
“She’ll be okay.”
Martin jumped. “Huh?”
Harriet stood at his side. “Ella. She’ll be okay. Like you said. She’s tough. She looks after you. She can look after herself for a few minutes, right?”