“Our mom did,” corrected Jack.
“Where’s your mom?” said Lucy.
Jack looked away, and Fliss shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” said Lucy.
“Look, I don’t care where you go, but you have to leave. We don’t have enough food for strangers. No-one knows we’re here and we wanna keep it that way. We can’t do that if we start letting strangers stay,” said Fliss, sternly.
“Is the gun real?” asked Lucy.
“Yes,” said Fliss.
“Loaded?” said Lucy.
The girl hesitated.
“I’ll leave, but you should come with me. You’ll die here if you don’t,” said Lucy.
“We’ll be fine,” snapped Jack.
Lucy squinted at him. His face was earnest, emotional, his eyes narrow with grief.
“I’m going to DC. My father-in-law’s there – he’s a senator. He’ll protect all of us, I swear. It’s your best chance. It’s your only chance,” insisted Lucy.
“Even if we wanted to come with you, there’s no way out of this city without getting caught by the Faithful. We tried, OK? That’s how they got mom,” said Fliss, letting the pistol fall limply to her side.
“Hiding won’t work forever. They’re hunting people like us. They’re gaining recruits every day, and using them to ‘cleanse’ whole districts. How long was I asleep?” said Lucy.
“Almost two days,” replied Fliss.
“Then we don’t have much time. The Preacher will be back any moment. He’ll want vengeance, and I promise you he’ll throw everything he’s got at us,” said Lucy.
“Us?” said Fliss.
“Vengeance for what?” said Jack.
“Do you have a car?” said Lucy, casting off the quilt. She was dressed in another woman’s jeans and sweater. They were dry, and fitted well, if a little baggy. She tried to stand but her head was light.
“Our car broke. You should probably sit for a minute,” said Jack.
“We don’t have time,” said Lucy, steadying herself against the wall.
The kettle clicked off and the boy attended, opening the lid and pulling boiled leaves out with a fork.
“No-one goes out until it’s dark. Those are the rules. So sit,” said Fliss, sternly.
Lucy looked at the girl, and considered the pistol. She sat back on the mattress and tried to gather her thoughts. Jack placed a bowl of steaming leaves down beside her bed.
“What are you doing?” hissed Fliss.
“How’s she supposed to leave if she’s not eaten in two days? She’ll just pass out on our doorstep again,” said Jack.
Lucy scooped the bowl up and ate hungrily, blowing the steaming food and chewing aggressively. Her hunger drove her on, pushing past the near-scolding temperature of the leaves until within a minute, the bowl was empty.
“I hope that was good. You’re not getting more,” said Fliss.
“Both of you should eat too. And pack. We all need to leave tonight,” said Lucy.
“I told you, our home’s he-” began Jack.
“Not anymore,” said Lucy.
“We’ve been through this – there’s no way out,” challenged Fliss.
“Can either of you sail?” said Lucy.
“No,” said Fliss, flatly.
“No, but…” began Jack.
“What?” said Fliss, looking at him, warily.
“There’s a guy who might know how,” said Jack.
***
“Keep low,” hissed Fliss, as she and Lucy followed Jack along the pier. The fading dusk light gave the moored sailboats and yachts a gentle pink tinge. Across the water, Shona’s accommodation block smoldered. The dying flames pawed the charred sides of the stone skyscraper, and thick black smoke stretched high above the city.
“It’s around here – this one,” said Jack, excitedly, arriving at a boat.
The cabin windows were covered up. The boat bobbed gently in the water, periodically straining against its mooring ropes. The marina was silent, save for dozens of halyard ropes and cables clicking against their masts in the breeze.
“Who wants to try?” said Jack.
“Clearly not you,” said Lucy, stepping forwards and tapping on the tough plastic window.
There was no reply. She tried again, tapping louder this time.
“You see that?” said the boy, pointing across the water to a bridge. A car was moving across it at speed, away from the Faithful’s central territory. It was headed in their direction.
“Crap,” said Lucy, giving an urgent final knock at the window then climbing aboard.
“What are you doing?” hissed Fliss.
“We need an answer quickly,” said Lucy.
She approached the cabin hatch. Cautiously, she pulled the first flap open, then the second. She peered down the dark companionway.
“I can’t see anything – either of you guys got a-” began Lucy.
A rough hand grabbed her by the collar and hauled her down inside the cabin. The teens cried out in shock. As Lucy struggled to find her feet, someone clamped her in a headlock.
“Move and I’ll break your neck, understood?” said a gruff voice.
“Yes,” rasped Lucy, trying to prize the assailant’s strong arms away from her windpipe.
“Quit struggling – I said don’t move,” growled the assailant, strengthening their grip.
Lucy stopped struggling and surrendered.
“Who’s up there?” said the assailant.
“My friends,” spluttered Lucy.
“Are they armed?” said the assailant.
“No, they’re kids,” gasped Lucy.
“Show yourselves,” ordered the assailant.
Lucy peered up through the cabin hatch, which perfectly framed the starry night sky; a beautiful view soured by the pain in her knees, which throbbed from her landing.
“Kids, I’m not asking again. Show me you’re unarmed or your friend gets it,” said the assailant.
Lucy listened intently as the teens whispered in the darkness above. Two sets of feet tapped on the deck above and shuffled toward the doorway, before the teenagers timidly peered into the cabin.
“Show me your hands,” ordered the assailant.
Fliss and Jack obliged, revealing empty hands.
“Fine,” said the assailant, shoving Lucy against the stairs and training a flashlight in her face.
“What do you want?” said the assailant, remaining in the shadows.
“Turn off the light, they might see us!” urged Fliss from above deck.
“You should’ve thought of that before you broke into my home,” snapped the assailant.
“Please, we’re sorry!” begged Fliss.
“You people look sick,” said the assailant, casting the light across the teenagers in turn.
“It’s not contagious,” said Lucy.
“Oh yeah? Then how come all three of you got it?” said the stranger.
“It’s something we ate. Please turn off the light!” implored Lucy.
The assailant clicked off the light.
“Can you sail?” asked Fliss.
“You’re on my boat, kid, so what do you think?” replied the assailant.
“I told you he could sail,” said Jack.
“‘He?’ Who you callin’ ‘he’, beanpole?” said the assailant, stepping forwards into the dim nightlight.
The boat owner was a portly woman in her late sixties. Her voice had the gruff of a long-term drinker. She was stocky; short and wide, with a strong build. She was the best fed out of all of them. The boat itself hadn’t fared so well. It bore the scent of a bedroom that hadn’t been aired in months, and of an owner who had been forced to give up on personal hygiene.
“We’re trying to escape the city. It’s impossible by land. We need a sailor,” said Lucy.
“I’m not for hire,” snorted the woman.
“We can pay you,” said Jack.
“With what?” said the sailor.
“No surprises there. I’m not interested in payment, anyway. I want you to leave me alone, and not come back,” said the woman.
“Drone!” cried Fliss, jumping down into the boat, followed closely by Jack.
“What are you doing?!” cried the woman.
“Sssh!” cried Jack, pulling the cabin hatch shut.
The woman turned the flashlight back on and trained it at the three invaders, who shielded their eyes meekly.
“Get the hell off my boat,” barked the woman.
“Turn it off!” hissed Jack.
“Go fuck yourself,” said the woman.
“Are you deaf? They’ve got a freakin’ drone!” cried Fliss.
“And?”
“They’re looking for us!” said Lucy.
“So turn yourselves in,” said the sailor.
“That would be suicide,” said Lucy.
“Not my problem,” said the sailor.
“We’ll tell them you helped us. Then it would be your problem – it’s punishable by death,” said Fliss.
“Maybe I should hand you in myself, then. Get a reward?” said the sailor.
“Turn off the light already!” urged Jack.
“Quiet, all of you,” said the woman, keeping the light on them.
The buzzing blades of the quadcopter filled the air as it scoured the marina.
“Please turn it off!” cried Jack.
The woman held a knife up in front of the flashlight, then flicked the light off.
The group stayed huddled in silence. Lucy could hear the teens’ breaths over her shoulders, while the drone circled overhead, before coming to a stationary hover.
“It’s right above us,” whispered Jack.
“What’s the range on those things?” said the sailor.
“About four hundred meters,” said Fliss.
“So they’re-?” began Lucy.
“Close by. Yeah,” said Fliss.
Dread washed over Lucy’s body as memories of Charlie’s execution came flooding back.
“They’re using the drone like a beacon. You gotta take it out,” said the sailor.
“With what?” said Fliss.
“Throw something, smash the blades, whatever. But do it quickly,” said the woman.
Fliss cast around in the darkness for something to throw, clattering through objects until she found something heavy.
“Jack, you get the door, I’ll throw. On three,” said Fliss.
The teens burst onto the deck and the buzzing raged louder. With a yell, Fliss hurled something metallic at the drone, knocking it out of the air. It crashed into the sea, ricocheting off a neighboring boat as it fell.
“Got it!” cried Fliss.
“Alright. Now fuck off and leave me alone,” said the sailor.
A car revved loudly. It was only a few blocks away.
“Too late for that – we need to cast off, start the engine!” said Lucy, leaping above deck.
“Are you insane?” said the sailor, hastening after her.
“If you want to live, you’ll do this now. Otherwise all four of us will die together,” urged Lucy.
The screeching of tires skidding round a corner echoed towards them.
“God dammit!” yelled the sailor, disappearing below deck and starting the motor.
Fliss leaped into the boat opposite and kicked the cabin doors open, before disappearing inside the hold.
“What are you doing?” cried Jack, following her.
“Find a lighter!” she yelled back.
Jack rushed back to the sailor’s boat.
“Do you have a lighter?” he cried.
“What for?” said the sailor, as the engine spluttered back to life.
“Just gimme a lighter!” cried Jack.
The sailor threw him a pack of matches.
“Don’t go without us!” Fliss yelled to Lucy, as she climbed out of the opposite boat and ran back down the pier, carrying a jerry can, with her brother racing after her.
“You – undo the mooring ropes,” barked the sailor, thrusting Lucy onto the pier.
She looked across at the teens. Within seconds the end of the pier was alight, with flames two meters tall. The sea below burned too, as fuel trickled down between the planks, ignited by falling embers from above.
The screeching of tires pierced the air again as the search car raced onto the harbor front, skidding to a halt by the flames. As the teens ran back towards the boat, their silhouettes black against the raging fire, Jack tripped, slipping off the pier. He clung to the edge with both hands, his shins submerged in the water, but he couldn’t heave himself out. Fliss tried to help but the lesions had weakened her too.
Lucy raced toward the teens. She grabbed Jack’s arm and heaved with Fliss, pulling him onto the pier. The three tumbled onwards, sprinting for the boat as a flare shot up overhead, casting a green glow over the marina and throwing them into sharp relief.
“In, quick!” cried Lucy, chaperoning the teens onto the boat as the sound of car doors slamming echoed across the water.
She placed two hands on the bow and gave the boat a shove away from the pier, then leaped onto the deck just before the gap became too great. The sailor leaned on the wheel, putting them into a sharp turn as they reversed out.
“Hurry!” implored Lucy, as the sailor pointed them toward the open sea.
At that moment a second vehicle sped down the harbor approach. Lucy’s heart froze as she recognized the white SUV rushing at them.
“Take cover!” she cried, shoving the teens into the cabin below, as the sailor cranked the engine to maximum thrust.
With a roar, the white SUV hurtled through the flaming barrier and onto the pier, slamming on the brakes as it skidded past row after row of moored boats.
Lucy watched in horror as the driver’s door of the SUV opened. A tall, black figure emerged. He was clad in a sweeping white robe, topped with a crimson red necklace.
“You took her!” roared the Preacher, pacing to the end of the pier. “She was innocent, and pure, and you took her from me!” he cried, his voice choking as he yelled. “God will make you pay for your sins!” he called, as a robed disciple caught up and handed him a shotgun.
Lucy hit the deck as the Preacher took aim and fired at the boat.
The sailor cursed in alarm, ducking down behind the controls.
The Preacher reloaded and fired again. A pellet struck the cabin window, splintering the acrylic. He loaded and fired several more shells, crying with rage as he took aim each time until his ammunition was spent, wasted on the out-of-range boat.
“By our Lady, you will pay for your sins!” he cried, casting the gun aside and sinking to his knees. He outstretched his arms, as if reaching for Lucy, then swept them to the side and turned his palms upwards. Tilting his head back, he faced skyward and prayed.
TWO
Rise and Fall
_________________________________________________
Lucy anxiously scanned the moonlit ocean, searching for signs of the Faithful in their wake. Boston harbor was long gone, and with it the smoldering remains of the tower in which she and Shona had fought so desperately. A wave caught Lucy off guard, jabbing the binocular rims against her eyes. She swore, rubbing her eyeballs, while Ruth grunted with schadenfreude.
“Have you always been able to navigate by night?” asked Lucy, her eyes throbbing.
“Sure,” said the sailor, tersely, as she noted the time against her chart. The moonlight accentuated the woman’s hard features; her crow’s feet appeared deeper, while the grey in her hair shone whiter, and the pits around her eyes sagged further.
“I didn’t catch your name earlier,” said Lucy.
“Ruth,” replied the woman, curtly.
“I’m Lucy,” said Lucy, extending a hand to Ruth, who ignored it, and continued studying the chart, the corner of which protruded from the clipboard and flapped in the breeze.
Lucy cast her eye
s around the dark expanse. As she stared at the water, she felt a sense of calm descending on her. A cluster of glimmering white dots shone out close to the surface, making the crests of overhead waves twinkle as they rose and fell with steady rhythm. The glow was soothing. Lucy tried to focus more carefully but she didn’t want to lift the binoculars again. She didn’t want to do anything other than stare at that beautiful, glistening patch of ocean, as it idly edged towards them. Her shoulders dropped and she sighed with contentment. The binoculars fell to the deck with a clatter.
“Watch it,” scorned Ruth, giving her a shove.
Lucy jolted out of the trance and rubbed her eyes. With a splash, the cluster of glimmering dots vanished from view, fading quickly as the unknown source sank further into the depths below.
“They were expensive,” Ruth muttered, scooping the binoculars up and shoving them into Lucy’s stomach.
Lucy yelped with pain as Ruth’s hand brushed against her concealed wound.
“You kidding me? What are you, soft? Hell. I thought you might just be old enough to be a normal adult but no, you’re one of them; the soft generation,” grumbled Ruth.
“Sorry, I’m not great at sea,” gasped Lucy, trying to regain composure. She wasn’t sure there’d ever be a good time to tell Ruth about the shredded purple flesh hanging from her abdomen, but she figured hours after she’d unwittingly brought death to the woman’s door might not be the best time. Lucy glanced back out at the ocean, hoping for another glimpse of the transfixing dots, but they were gone.
“I might head below, I don’t feel one hundred percent,” she said, surreptitiously adjusting the bandage covering her womb.
“You do that. I’m sure you’ve had a tough day,” snorted Ruth.
Lucy edged around the helm towards the cabin hatch. She lifted one of the tilted wooden flaps and took a step down, then turned to the sailor.
“Thanks for – you know,” said Lucy.
“Oh fuck off already,” said Ruth, engrossed in making adjustments to her sextant.
Lucy descended the short set of wooden steps into the cabin. Fliss was awake and sitting in one of the saloon berths, illuminated by a slither of moonlight coming through the cabin window overhead. Her sleeve was rolled up and she was tracing her fingers across the raw, bumpy lesions that covered her arm. On her lap sat a copy of Navigation Essentials. She jumped at the sound of Lucy’s footsteps and hastily tugged her sleeve down, attempting to act casual.
Convulsive Box Set Page 49
