After the Living Have Lost
Page 16
Then, as if the worst hadn’t already happened, the few survivors who could do nothing but witness the remnants of their neighbours being discarded haplessly among the crops they had worked so hard on, they heard something.
A hiss.
And the rare sight of a serpentine creature appeared. The thickness of its body outdid the Thoral, the length of its body outdid multiple streets, and if its fangs didn’t meet you, then the rough edges of its slithering body would slice through your back or your throat or anybody part straying from your body.
When the entire community had fallen, when it seemed as if the creatures had finished, when the few minutes it took to destroy years of growth had finished, they didn’t leave.
They hunted.
There were still more, they could smell them.
They were locking the doors to their houses, as if that could do anything.
They were searching for loved ones.
They were even trying to mount the wall.
They were trying to hide.
But the community, unlike Cia, did not know how to hide. They did not seek a wardrobe hidden in an obscure room; they simply closed a door and hid behind it.
This was not enough.
They knew nothing of these creatures or this world, and none of their fleeing would ever be enough.
And they all—every single last one of them—fell prey to the creatures.
And the creatures continued to devour every survivor until there was nothing left but streets of red and stiff, stunned faces.
NOW
Chapter Fifty-Three
It has been a long time, but the noises seem to have stopped.
The screams and the roars and the screeches and the hisses and the battering and the hollers of pain…they are long gone.
Cia has no idea how long they have been in there. They have been rationing food pretty well. The wardrobe stinks from the urine and excrement in the corner, but they have become used to it.
Cia has come to learn that you can truly get used to anything should the situation or environment call for it.
But now they are coming to the end of their food. Boy is getting restless, and Cia’s hasn’t seen daylight in so long.
She estimates it has been four, maybe five days. Give or take. There is no way of knowing, but she has attempted to keep track by counting out thirty minutes, getting a feel for what thirty minutes felt like, and estimating from there.
But it has been a long time, and she is sure they are safe.
Not that there is any way of knowing for certain—but her instincts have helped her survive, and it is denying her instincts that allowed this community to condemn her and Boy to a fate that they escaped by luck.
It seems, despite the skills and rage that Cia used, that luck is the greatest asset needed to survive in this new world.
“I’m going to go make sure it’s safe,” Cia tells Boy. “You wait here.”
She knows it’s safe. The noises have long since stopped.
But she wants to see what remains for herself. She wants to adjust, to come to terms, to take it in before Boy has to endure the sights he would see on his way out.
She stands, the muscles in her legs so stiff, so unused. She opens the door and the smell of wooden furniture overwhelms her. Not that she’s noticed it before, but it is in such contrast to what she’s used to that it seems stronger.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispers, and closes the wardrobe door.
She creeps out of the room, and along the corridor, until she reaches the door of the village hall.
She pauses.
Places her hand on the door handle.
Listens.
She is bombarded with an onslaught of silence.
Drawn out, indestructible, unmistakable silence.
She steps outside and quickly covers her eyes. The sun hides behind clouds and it isn’t particularly bright, but it still takes a while for her to adjust to any light at all.
Once she has, she steps into the streets, and witnesses what is left.
Blood has dried into the stone surface.
Some corpses she recognises, a few are even relatively intact, but most are just discarded pieces that the creatures didn’t find tasty enough to devour.
“Hello?” she says, wondering if anyone will respond.
No one does.
I did it again.
She has condemned another community to death.
She has condemned them to being torn apart by the creatures.
She has condemned them to…
No.
She stops forcing herself to feel bad. She is telling herself this in hope she will feel guilty but, despite the sight, she doesn’t.
Whether that is a good or bad thing, she doesn’t know.
Whether the remnants of such violence should have more impact on her than a shrug of her shoulders is debatable.
She did what she did to survive.
For Boy to survive.
That is her purpose.
Not to fit a role in a community that no longer works, in a society that has long since been destroyed. She is not a warrior for others, nor is she a protector for the people.
She is a survivor.
And she has made sure Boy is a survivor.
And all this striving for another purpose, for something greater…
She had failed to realise.
I already have it.
So she looks over the few remaining faces and the discarded limbs and anything else that remains. She recognises little, but it doesn’t matter; she is numb to every bit of it.
And she is not sad to leave this place behind.
All it has done is prove to her what she already knows.
That she is fine surviving day to day, out there.
Her and Boy together and alive is far, far greater reason to live than any community could ever give her.
AFTER
Chapter Fifty-Four
Boy devoured another bunch of blueberries, and it was as if nothing had ever happened.
Days of walking had resulted in a few incidents of having to hide from creatures, and a few incidents of having to run from loud noises, but their journey had been mostly peaceful.
And now, she tried to give Boy a bit of space. She sat on a log, yards away, knowing that she didn’t need to be next to him all the time.
He wasn’t a child anymore. He was a teenager. Different or not, he needed to grow, and she was helping him do that.
And then it happened again.
Sudden flashes.
Dalton appeared before him. She swiped for him, knowing he wasn’t there, but she just pushed her hand through his belly and he didn’t go.
This again?
She stood and turned away, but he was in front of her.
Looking at her.
Staring at her.
The man she’d killed.
She turned around and there was Hades.
He said nothing and shouted at the same time.
Why didn’t you save me? he wanted to know.
Why did you kill me? asked Ryker.
Why did you kill your dad? asked her father.
She collapsed into a ball, buried her head, and whined until she couldn’t hear anymore, until it drowned the voices out.
She tried saying the poem she had taught Boy but it did nothing. She just kept hearing them.
No matter how much she covered her ears, no matter how much she shouted over them, they just kept going.
Asking the same questions over and over again.
A panic attack, they said it was. And that was one thing she believed.
But that just sounded so simple. The label of panic attack, oh that’s all, just snap out of it—it feels a lot tougher when everything you keep buried away pushes down on you, shouting and shouting and asking you the same questions.
“The devil has departed and you are not alone,” she whispered to herself. “Take time to rebuild our love in our
home.”
But it wasn’t enough.
Then there was one voice, a voice that broke through all of the shouting, delicate and shy but confident and determined, a voice she knew better than any other voice.
“Rosy,” it said.
She tried not to cry.
“Rosy!”
A hand on her back.
She looked up.
They had all gone, every one of them.
All that remained was Boy, his smiling face beaming down at her, standing next to her, his hand on her back.
“It’s okay, Rosy,” he said.
And that was it.
That was all it took.
No therapy, no drugs, no facing what she had done.
Just Boy, telling her it was okay.
He held out his hand and helped her up, and they kept walking, together, hand in hand.
And that was all she needed.
BOOK FOUR: AFTER THE DEAD HAVE DECAYED COMING SOON
Join Rick’s Reader’s group for updates at www.rickwoodwriter.com/sign-up
Join Rick’s Reader’s Group and get two books free!
Join now at www.rickwoodwriter.com/sign-up
Also by Rick Wood
The Sensitives:
Book One – The Sensitives
Book Two – My Exorcism Killed Me
Book Three – Close to Death
Book Four – Demon’s Daughter
Book Five – Questions for the Devil
Book Six - Repent
Book Seven - The Resurgence
Chronicles of the Infected
Book One – Finding Her
Book Two – Finding Hope
Book Three – Finding Home
Shutter House
Shutter House
Prequel Book One - This Book is Full of Bodies
Cia Rose:
Book One – After the Devil Has Won
Book Two – After the End Has Begun
Book Three - After the Living Have Lost
Standalones:
When Liberty Dies
I Do Not Belong
Death of the Honeymoon
Sean Mallon:
Book One – The Art of Murder
Book Two – Redemption of the Hopeless
The Edward King Series:
Book One – I Have the Sight
Book Two – Descendant of Hell
Book Three – An Exorcist Possessed
Book Four – Blood of Hope
Book Five – The World Ends Tonight
About the Author
Rick Wood is a British writer born in Cheltenham.
His love for writing came at an early age, as did his battle with mental health. After defeating his demons, he grew up and became a stand-up comedian, then a drama and English teacher, before giving it all up to become a full-time author.
He now lives in Loughborough, where he divides his time between watching horror, reading horror, and writing horror.
© Copyright Rick Wood 2019
Cover by rickwoodswritersroom.com
With thanks to my street team.
No part of this book may be reproduced without the express permission of the author.
Contents
The Monsters: Masketes
The Monsters: Thorals
The Monsters: Liskers
The Monsters: Wasters
Chapter 1
THEN
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
NOW
Chapter 12
THEN
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
NOW
Chapter 19
THEN
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
NOW
Chapter 28
THEN
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
NOW
Chapter 35
THEN
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
NOW
Chapter 44
THEN
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
NOW
Chapter 53
AFTER
Chapter 54
BOOK FOUR: AFTER THE DEAD HAVE DECAYED COMING SOON
Join Rick’s Reader’s Group and get two books free!
Also by Rick Wood
About the Author