After The End (Book 1): The Furious Four

by Rendle, Samantha

  ‘Shit,’ mutters Preston, breaking into a run.

  He shoulders past the trolley pusher, who remains oblivious as he stumbles into a shelf and topples over. Bursting into the light of the doorway, Preston feels his stomach drop. A sea of them, gagging and screaming, descend onto Beth, Kerry and Gabriel like a tidal wave, greedy hands grabbing and clawing. Gabriel braces for a fight, but Beth wrenches him away, pushing him towards the exit.

  The front runners crumple and collapse as Preston shoots at them, still running towards the others and the exit. Beth glances fearfully at him as she wheels her bike out the door after Gabriel and Kerry, and in a matter of seconds Preston is right behind her, seizing his own bike and throwing it outside into the snow.

  ‘Go, GO!’ he bellows, kicking a leg over his bike and immediately beginning to pedal, but before he can accelerate a hand grabs his shoulder.

  Wrenching his arm around, Preston shoots his attacker in the head and drags his bike forwards once more, but he is seized almost immediately again. Swearing, he twists around in his seat and fires several shots. Ahead, Gabriel and Kerry wait at the car park’s entrance, looking frightened and unsure. Beth is mounting her bike a few feet in front of him.

  Another grabs Preston, but a bullet whistles past his ear and finds its target. He tears free, nodding a hasty thanks to Gabriel, who continues to shoot flawlessly, and pedals hard, barely noticing when he passes Beth, whose scream stops him in his tracks, halfway to the others. He whirls around just in time to see Beth being dragged off her bike.

  ‘NO!’ Gabriel starts towards the fray, but Kerry holds him back.

  Leaping off his bike, Preston sprints to Beth’s aid, firing shots as fast as the triggers will allow him. One by one they fall away from her, and she flails frantically until Preston pockets a gun, grabs her hand and hauls her to her feet, still shooting with the other hand. She doesn’t stop to thank him; she runs for her bike and pedals away, breathless. The last thing Preston spots before turning his back and joining the others is, bizarrely, the trolley pusher, who follows his trolley absently out the door, apparently done with his shopping.

  Snow flicks up off the ground as they zoom away, hearts racing, and the zombies’ cries grow quieter with each passing second, allowing Beth’s sobs to grow ever more audible. The flurry feels sinister now, blinding them and chilling their skin.

  Beth continues to moan as they return to the main road, partially protected from the snow by overhanging branches. Preston gradually becomes aware of a throbbing in his shoulder where he was grabbed, but the pain is dulled by his irritation towards Beth.

  ‘BETHANY!’ he thunders. ‘SHUT UP!’

  After twenty minutes of intense speed, Beth squeezes her brakes, forcing Preston to slow down behind her. Ahead, Gabriel and Kerry continue to speed towards home. Annoyed, Preston glares at Beth, whose eyes still glisten with tears.

  ‘Preston,’ she cries, ‘I-I...’

  ‘What happened?’ he snaps.

  ‘Kerry tried to f-follow you,’ she hiccups, ‘but she t-tripped over those p-paint cans... Stumbled into s-some shelves...’

  ‘Will you get a grip?’

  ‘I-I...’ Beth pauses, attempting to compose herself, and her bike zigzags dangerously as a tear escapes her. ‘Preston, I have to...’

  ‘We’re losing them,’ he says, nodding ahead, where Gabriel and Kerry are shrinking rapidly, ‘and we’re getting soaked. Speed up; the sooner we get back to the barn, the better.’

  ‘Pres, please...’

  ‘What a waste of time this was,’ he mutters, pushing harder on his pedals, and his bike speeds up obligingly below him.

  ‘Preston, I’ve been bitten!’

  Pressing on his brakes, Preston turns to face her. ‘What did you just say?’

  But he doesn’t need to ask, because he’s looking at her, properly, like he hasn’t done in ages. Her hat is flecked with snowflakes and her cheeks are streaked with tears. Her nostrils flare as she struggles to keep her crumbling composure, and her lip trembles. Between her jaw and her scarf, the evidence is clear.

  The blood is slick and black against the dark skin of her neck, and it seeps into her clothes. By the looks of it, a large chunk has been ripped from the side of her neck, and it’s bleeding thick and fast. As his gaze travels back up to meet hers, another tear leaps from her eye, and something inside him gives a painful tug.

  They’ve stopped cycling completely, and they stare into each other’s eyes, letting dread seep in. From far away, voices call their names.

  ‘I’ve been bitten,’ she whispers again.

  The Exchange

  Autumn, as it came, was lenient with them. As Beth and Preston trudged to the car under scrutiny of a pleasant, cool day, Steve and Gabriel waved from the doorway of the inn. Beth smiled and waved back, and Preston noted that she was far prettier when she wasn’t scowling. He considered telling her this, but it sounded way too much like a compliment, and he didn’t give those on principle.

  The inn had harboured them for almost three months, and despite it not having any custom whatsoever, Steve continued to pay for its upkeep, and Preston and his little band of followers had been kept safe, warm and well-fed. For too long, Preston thought decisively. It was time, now, for them to move on and let Steve and Andrea be. Before they could do that, however, supplies had to be collected.

  His birthday had come and gone, unknown to anyone else, and he was now twenty. He remembered with a pang the party he and David had been planning, the party where only the two of them were invited. They’d have rented out a party room just for the two of them, with a buffet and a jukebox and a huge space in which they could do whatever they wanted. Instead he’d spent it drinking and doing his laundry.

  A cigarette dangled from his lips as he reversed the ugly pink car out of its space and sped, way too fast, out of the car park. Beth gripped her arm rest tightly as he swerved around a bend, and Preston smiled wryly to himself.

  ‘So where are we going?’ Beth asked, staring straight ahead, probably for hazards.

  ‘Well,’ said Preston, tapping ash out the window before replacing the cigarette in his mouth, ‘I reached out some feelers and apparently Bath is still open for business. We can do some shopping there before we meet with Larry.’

  She screwed up her face. ‘Why are we meeting with Larry?’

  ‘I called him on Steve’s phone, asked him to pretty please bring some stuff for me. I had to scour the internet for the bugger’s number, though.’

  ‘Stuff you can’t buy in Primark, I assume,’ she said with a frown.

  ‘Stuff we’re going to need,’ snapped Preston. ‘I just hope I’ve got enough money on me, or I might have to shoot him for it.’

  ‘That’ll go down well.’

  ‘What, you suddenly care so much about Larry Lynch? I won’t shoot him if you fancy him, just say the word.’

  ‘That’s revolting,’ she squeaked.

  ‘That’s unkind,’ he replied with a smirk.

  The drive took a little over half an hour, and as they approached Bath the hideous, partly-built wall materialised before them, wrapped in scaffolding. It was tall, taller than most of the city’s buildings, and pale grey, a stark contrast to the beautiful, graceful buildings it aimed to envelop. It was wide, too, they discovered as they drove through the scaffolding – as wide as a house. It was like wrapping a precious diamond in crumpled newspaper.

  Inside the walls, the city bustled as if nothing had changed. People milled about at the train station, hauling luggage. Cars beeped as cyclists cut them off, and buses sighed loudly. It was strange, seeing so many people after so many quiet weeks.

  Preston parked in a car park behind the train station, flicking a cigarette stub onto the tarmac and ignoring the glares of a passing old woman. Beth walked around the car to join him, following his gaze to a train, which was gathering speed.

  ‘How are trains going to operate with those massive walls in the way?’ she wondered.r />
  ‘Gates, I presume,’ Preston replied wryly. ‘So, what do we need?’

  ‘I want a hat and scarf,’ Beth supplied, ‘and we need nappies.’

  ‘How glamorous,’ he grunted.

  ‘Well, what do you need?’

  ‘Plenty,’ he said. ‘I need boots, fags and a new jacket, for starters. We also need actual supplies, like toothpaste, shampoo and what have you.’

  ‘How are we going to stock up on that sort of stuff, come to think of it? We’re going to be outcasts, after all.’

  ‘Never fear, there’s always someone to mug.’

  He began walking and Beth hurried after him. A woman hurried past them, swinging a pumpkin-shaped bucket and babbling into her phone about costume ideas. Across the road, people sat outside a coffee shop, basking in the last of the year’s warmth. A man jogged with his dog. What apocalypse?

  Beth, too, seemed stunned by the normality. What did it take for people to look up from their lives and take proper notice? They felt different, changed, but no one treated them any differently. No one knew what they’d been through.

  As he walked, Preston could feel Beth drawing closer to him, and then edging away slightly, dodging away from other people and trying to stay close to him. He knew she wanted him to offer his arm, but he didn’t. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest.

  They found Beth a new hat and scarf almost immediately, but she insisted she needed them in two colours, so she emerged from the shop with a red and a blue set. Preston, however, was much pickier, and with hours until Larry was due to meet them, Preston took his time picking jackets and boots. He wanted something different from his preferred denim or black leather, something that would redefine him.

  It was only when their arms were laden with bags full of nappies, toiletries, socks, cigarettes, packets of crisps and an admittedly adorable camouflage coat for Gabriel that Preston saw it: a dark red leather jacket draped carelessly across a mannequin’s shoulder in a small shop window. Shoving his bags at Beth and almost knocking her over, he shot into the shop and tugged at the jacket on the mannequin, searching for the price tag.

  ‘A hundred and fifty quid,’ announced Beth, nodding towards the rail containing the jacket’s twins and almost unbalancing herself, ‘and that’s the sale price.’

  Sighing, Preston began emptying the pockets of his holey old denim jacket, handing Beth a half empty pack of cigarettes, two lighters, car keys, his wallet and a chewing gum wrapper. Beth watched him, unable to stop the wrapper as it drifted to the floor, and slowly, as he shrugged off his faded jacket, it dawned on her.

  ‘Please tell me you’re just trying that on,’ she hissed, glancing around for cameras.

  ‘Relax,’ he told her as he flicked through the jackets, searching for his size.

  ‘I’ve never broken the law before,’ she squeaked frantically.

  ‘Rubbish,’ he said, ‘you underage drinker, you.’

  ‘Are you sure you can’t just buy it?’

  He slipped the asymmetric biker jacket on and turned to face her. ‘Not if we want to pay Larry enough for our merchandise.’

  ‘Maybe I have enough money...’

  ‘Shh,’ he said, nodding behind her. ‘No one’s even looking, see?’

  As she turned to look, Preston dropped the denim jacket and slipped out of the shop, leaving her clutching all the bags and the contents of his pockets. She caught up with him when he was several yards away, and she was panting.

  ‘Oh, my god,’ she squealed as he stuffed the pockets of his new jacket, freeing her hands, ‘oh, my god.’

  ‘Calm down,’ he muttered, checking his watch absentmindedly. ‘I told you we’d get away with it-’

  ‘OI!’ someone shouted behind them.

  ‘We didn’t get away with it!’ cried Preston, and he broke into a sprint as the shop’s security guard rushed at him.

  Outrunning the security guard didn’t take much, and Preston was a seasoned pro: he ran through the arcade, around a couple of corners and ducked into a shop, where he grabbed a pair of women’s jeans and disappeared into a changing room. He didn’t hear the security guard run past, but in his experience these men weren’t the brightest of bulbs. Even so, he stood for a moment, admiring himself in his shiny new jacket, before finally returning the jeans to the till.

  ‘Too small,’ he told the cashier with a wink, and then he exited the shop.

  He reunited with Beth in the shopping arcade, where he discovered her hobbling hilariously along with all their bags, calling his name. He grinned at the sight of her and took his share of the bags, and she glowered at him.

  ‘How do I look?’ he asked, doing a twirl.

  ‘Immensely pleased with yourself,’ she growled.

  ‘Excellent!’ he exclaimed. ‘We are late for Larry, though, so we ought to crack on.’

  ‘You don’t strike me as the type to be anything but late.’

  ‘How very rude,’ he said, still grinning. ‘Come on, Blue.’

  ‘My name is-’

  ‘I know what your name is.’

  As he led the way back to the car, she gave him a strange look that he ignored. They walked in silence, enjoying the sun and readjusting to the fact that they were surrounded by people; something Preston hadn’t been used to since birth.

  Switching his bags to one hand, he lit a cigarette with the other. Beth shook her head but said nothing. She’d already tried twice to convince him not to smoke, and twice he’d sworn at her and threatened her life for sticking her nose in his business. After each encounter he’d stubbornly chained for at least half an hour to illustrate his point. He may not have attended much school, he’d told her, but he was aware that smoking was bad for him, thank you very much.

  When they returned to the car park, Larry was already waiting for them. He sat on the roof of a white van, swinging his legs. The van was scratched and dented, and it had a purple smiley face spray-painted on its side. Preston smirked; if anything screamed Larry, it was a vandalised white van.

  ‘Don’t all the perves drive white vans?’ he said, making his way to his own car, which was parked only one space away from Larry.

  ‘Yep,’ said Larry, wiggling his eyebrows at Beth, who visibly winced. ‘I got you one for your birthday, mate, but you didn’t show up for the party.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware you threw me one,’ said Preston in mock-horror as he stuffed their purchases into the boot.

  ‘Sabrina blew up a big ol’ picture of your face and stuck it on the wall,’ explained Larry solemnly, ‘and we had a nice rainbow cake for you. I was going to sing you a special version of Happy Birthday. Want to hear it now?’

  ‘No, thank you. I would like the cake, though, if you still have it.’

  ‘I ate it because I missed you.’

  ‘When was your birthday?’ asked Beth, frowning as she passed him her bags.

  ‘August the twenty-ninth,’ he said, shoving them into the boot and shrugging. ‘I did tell you when it was, but you were drunk.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

  ‘I had my mouth full.’

  ‘Too much information, mate,’ said Larry, his grin like a huge slit in his face. ‘So, do you have anything for me in the pockets of that handsome new jacket?’

  ‘Depends,’ said Preston, taking a drag on his cigarette. ‘Do you have anything for me in your pervy white van?’

  ‘I do, but I’m afraid you’re too late for the birthday discount.’

  He felt Beth hovering behind him as Larry tugged open the van’s rear doors, releasing a foul cocktail of odours ranging from marijuana to bleach. As Beth muttered something distasteful behind him, Preston scanned the contents of the van: a number of cardboard boxes, a washing basket filled with clothes, two sturdy black cases, and an assortment of air fresheners, which were dotted around the van in an unsuccessful attempt to mask the smell.

  Sparing Beth a cunning grin, Larry reached first for the two black cases, which were flat and rec
tangular, one bigger than the other. He dragged them closer, and then moved aside for Preston to inspect them. Beth craned her neck to look as Preston popped the catches on the first case and opened the lid. Inside was a slightly battered revolver with the word “bang” etched into the wooden handle. Preston glanced sideways at Larry, who smiled and shrugged.

  ‘You understand that if this was for me I’d shoot you with it,’ Preston said in disgust, flicking ash onto the floor of the van.

  ‘You get what you pay for, mate,’ laughed Larry, clapping him on the back and earning himself a punch in the shoulder for it. ‘These babies were difficult to get hold of, you know. I’m presenting you with a bargain here!’ He rubbed his shoulder. ‘You really eat your greens, don’t you? That smarts.’

  Ignoring him, Preston opened the second case, which contained a rifle in a similar condition. Preston removed the gun from its mould and examined it, catching Beth’s wide eyes but ignoring her. He snapped the top break and peered into the barrel, before clicking the weapon back together and replacing it in its mould.

  ‘Where’s the scope?’ he demanded.

  ‘Christ, Pres, I didn’t get these from Santa!’ Larry chuckled. ‘If you want a scope, get it yourself. Or, you know, get a phone and I’ll let you know if and when I get one.’

  ‘This is so weird,’ muttered Beth, holding her head in her hands.

  ‘They’ll do,’ grunted Preston, passing the two cases to Beth, who took them gingerly. ‘I take it you managed to get ammo for them, though?’

  ‘Yes, Mum!’ Preston punched his arm again. ‘Ouch! You know, you’re a lot less fun since your little boyfriend bit it-’

  Across the car park, a woman screamed at the sight of Preston drawing his gun and slotting it neatly under Larry’s chin. Larry cackled wildly as the woman fled the scene, waving shopping bags in the air. Beth held her breath, clutching the cases for dear life and glancing around nervously.

  ‘Pres...’ she squeaked.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ grinned Larry, ‘I’ll admit that was poor customer service! I’ll give you a fair discount, okay, in exchange for my life?’