All Roads End Here

by David Moody

  “We got it for her, remember?” Jason says. “She told us she needed it for the kid. All along she’d been planning a way out. Remember that Titanic movie when the mother puts the kids to bed while the ship’s filling up with water because she knows they’re all going to die and she decides she’ll—”

  Matt yells at him. “Fuck sake, Jason, shut up. I get it. I know what she’s done and why she did it.”

  “At least they’re free from all this now,” Jason says, and Matt can’t help but agree.

  * * *

  It might be a waste of time and of energy he doesn’t have, but he does it just the same. This small plot of land is as irrelevant as any other part of the camp to the displaced Walker family, but it feels like the right thing to do in the circumstances. He wraps the bodies in their bedding, then buries them together in a single shallow grave in the back garden. It takes hours to dig the hole and fill it in again, and by the time Matt’s finished he’s physically and emotionally drained. Just a shell. He practically crawls upstairs to bed but no matter how tired he is, he knows he’ll get little sleep tonight.

  36

  “Nothing’s changed, right?” Franklin says, grabbing Matt as soon as he enters the convent.

  “Good morning to you too, Franklin.”

  No time for niceties. “That prick has the place pretty much locked down. Shouldn’t make too much of a difference now that Jayce has disappeared. She told you he’s one of her kind, right?”

  “Yeah, she told me.”

  “Like I said, it doesn’t make any difference. We carry on as planned. What we’re doing’s not dependent on anything that happens here. We need access to a vehicle to get Darren and a couple of the others over to the shelter, then we need to get back with the truck. That’s all.”

  “Sounds so easy when you put it like that.”

  “We both know it’s not. We just need to keep our heads for a little while longer. It’s getting close now.”

  “So when do you reckon?”

  “A few days’ time. If you haven’t already got your folks moved nearer to the chapel, I’d suggest you get it done quick because when it does happen, it’ll happen fast.”

  “So what are we supposed to do until then? Just carry on like nothing’s wrong?”

  “That’s exactly what we do. Go find your mate and help him do whatever it is he’s doing.”

  “My mate?”

  “Yeah, Joseph. He’s been asking for you.”

  * * *

  The convent feels emptier than ever this morning. Matt rattles around the building trying to find Joseph while avoiding Sahota and his guards. Joseph is, as usual, on the upper floors, tending to his captive Haters. He spots Matt from the far end of the drafty landing and is on him immediately. “Glad you’re here, Matthew,” he says, booming voice filling the building. “Good timing. We have a busy morning ahead of us.”

  There’s another person here. A soldier. One of Sahota’s grunts, Matt recalls. He’s a massive, mean-looking fucker with a buzz cut and a permanent scowl. He hands Matt a pillowcase. “What am I supposed to do with this?” Matt asks, but the guard doesn’t answer.

  Joseph enters the nearest room. Matt and the soldier are left out on the landing as Joseph crouches down and begins adjusting a captive Hater’s restraints.

  All Matt sees is a flash of movement from the bed, and the door’s kicked shut. He and the soldier exchange glances and the soldier goes to enter, but it’s blocked. They can hear voices and the sounds of Joseph grappling with the Hater inside, fighting for his life.

  But they’ve got it all wrong. When the door opens again, no more than a minute later, it’s Joseph in control. Against the odds he’s got the better of the Hater, taking advantage of the evil fucker’s relative physical weakness and lethargy after the forced inactivity of his incarceration. The killer’s on the ground, Joseph standing over him. Joseph gestures at the soldier and Matt. The soldier steps forward and picks the Hater up like he’s made of paper, then orders Matt to cover the prisoner’s head. “Stay calm and keep your temper in check and you’ll be okay,” Joseph tells the captive Hater. “Fight back and you’ll regret it.”

  The Hater’s feet are shackled. With Matt on one side and the guard on the other, he shuffles through the building with his feet still chained together, and the farther away from his cell they get, the more Matt sees his demeanor change. Full of aggression when he tried to attack Joseph, he’s now quiet and subdued … broken? Is he crying? The unexpected vulnerability of the man takes Matt by surprise. Maybe Joseph’s right? Maybe there is hope after all? The Hater whimpers—he whimpers like a child!—when he trips up a low step. They enter the top-floor room Matt visited when he first broke into the convent and which he’s done everything he can to avoid returning to since. There’s not a lot here: a bracket and chain on the wall, a bucket to shit in and a bucket of water to wash with. Joseph motions for Matt to fetch the chain and he wraps it around the Hater’s waist, securing it tight. “Stay and watch if you like,” Joseph whispers. “Watch from the doorway, though, so he can’t see you. We don’t want to antagonize him more than we have to. I think you might find this interesting. You’ll be surprised how cooperative they can really be when their neck’s on the line.”

  Joseph whips the pillowcase off the Hater’s head, then backs away, regarding him with a curious mix of mistrust and pride. He then leaves the room, returning moments later with food and a pile of clothes which had been left out on the landing ready. Matt remains out of sight, able to see the Hater but satisfied the Hater can’t see him.

  “Move back,” Joseph orders his prisoner. “Right up against the wall.” When the Hater grudgingly does as he’s told, Joseph puts down the things he’s been carrying, then retreats a safe distance and sits down. “Help yourself.”

  To Matt’s surprise, the Hater reacts. “What?”

  “I said help yourself. The food tastes like shit today, but it’s warm and it’s better than nothing. And the clothes are from a dead man, I’m afraid. But hey, they don’t stink of piss like yours do!”

  The Hater edges forward, circling the food. He’s clearly starving, and though he tries to stop himself, he drops to the ground and digs in hungrily. The food is demolished in seconds and is washed down with a bottle of dirty-looking water.

  “Better?” Joseph asks him. Matt notices he’s stretched out now, looking surprisingly relaxed. Is he as confident as he appears, or are these mind games, a performance designed to wrong-foot the Hater? “I’ll get you some more later. There’s soap and water for you to wash with over in one of those buckets over there. Scrub yourself down, Danny. Get rid of the stink and try and make yourself feel human again.”

  And to Matt’s astonishment, this Danny creature does exactly that. With Joseph sitting just farther away than the full reach of the chain, the Hater washes himself, then dresses, then squats on the other bucket. While he’s distracted, Joseph gestures for Matt to leave, and he does so without hesitation. He can’t decide whether this is a groundbreaking treatment, a perverse form of torture, or ritual humiliation. Whatever the reason, Matt’s seen enough.

  He goes back downstairs and helps himself to a drink from the kitchen. He leans over the sink watching a dribble of water disappear, circling the plughole, trying to work out how he feels about what he’s just witnessed upstairs. Is training one of those monsters to hold the Hate any different from teaching a parrot to talk? Do the Haters upstairs actually want to suppress their instinctive rage, or are they just mimicking Unchanged behavior? Is there even a difference?

  “It’s Matthew, isn’t it?”

  The voice catches Matt by surprise and makes his blood run cold. He knows exactly who it is, but he takes his time turning around.

  Stay calm. He doesn’t know you know, remember.

  He looks for a way out of the conversation, but there’s no obvious exit and no one else here. It’s just Matt and Sahota.

  “That’s right, General,” he replies,
trying not to sound as unsure as he feels. “Am I supposed to call you General?”

  “Call me what you like. I’m not one for formality.”

  I could think of a few more appropriate names for you, Matt thinks. “Joseph’s busy upstairs. I should be getting back. He’s on his own with one of the Haters.”

  “He knows what he’s doing.”

  “He’s expecting me. I just came down to get some water.”

  Matt’s lying and he knows it’s probably obvious. He just needs to stay calm and not draw attention to himself. And not get killed.

  “I won’t keep you, I’m sure you’ve got lots to do. A busy place, this is. An important place. What do you think about the work Joseph and the others are doing?”

  “I think it’s amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He answers honestly, but how far does he take this? Matt knows the Hater could kill him in a heartbeat, but he also knows Sahota’s currently doing everything he can to hide his true allegiance. The fact the general obviously wishes to remain incognito gives Matt a crumb more confidence to speak up. “You have to question the overall effect of all this, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  In for a penny, in for a pound. If he talks candidly about his concerns, Matt thinks it might throw the Hater off the scent. “I’ve talked to Joseph about this. What good is what he’s doing actually going to do? If he stops a hundred of them from killing, there’s still another few million left out there ready to take their place.”

  “Fair point. I think you underestimate the impact one person can have, though.”

  “One Hater, or one of us?”

  “Both. Either.”

  “I guess. I saw one of them let loose in the camp here once. He had a hell of an impact.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “So in answer to your question, I guess it’s all about perspective. One Hater can have a huge effect on a crowd of people like us, but I just question what effect one pacifist Hater’s going to have on the rest of their kind.”

  “Good answer. Maybe we’ll find out one day, eh?”

  “Maybe we will.”

  It’s a relief when one of Sahota’s guards appears and whispers in his ear. The general is needed elsewhere.

  Alone in the kitchen again, Matt’s legs turn to rubber and he leans heavily on the sink to keep himself upright. What the fuck is he doing? He’s playing with fire here and he knows it, but staying close to Franklin and Jayce is the only chance he has of getting Jen away from this hellish place and keeping her alive. Christ, though, he knows he’s risking absolutely everything. One wrong word to Sahota or one of his guards, one indiscretion, and it could all come crashing down around him.

  Every second he spends here is a second too long.

  37

  Franklin barrels down the corridor looking for Matt, frantic. He finds him cleaning the cell where this morning’s Hater had been held. “Follow him.”

  “Who?”

  “Danny something-or-other. That stinking bastard Joseph kept in here. The one you took up to his bloody torture chamber earlier.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me. You want me to follow him?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking? Sahota’s just let him loose. Get out there and track him.”

  “Track him where?”

  “Stupid fucking question. Just go wherever he goes and try not to get yourself killed. We need to know what he’s planning. We need to know exactly what’s happening here.”

  “What about Joseph?”

  “What about him? I’ll cover for you. Jayce is waiting on the other side of the wall.”

  “Wait … am I missing a step here?”

  “We all are. We’ve taken our eyes off the ball. We thought once Joseph and the others had finished with them they were just being turfed out into the wastelands. Until Sahota turned up here we didn’t know the Haters were involved with any of this, but they must be behind the whole damn program. They must have known what was going on here from early on and they’ve been pulling the strings, using Joseph to do their dirty work and teach more of them how to hold the Hate. Question is, why?”

  * * *

  Jayce jumps out at him from the shadows. “Jesus Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” he says, clutching his chest.

  “You’ve spoken to Franklin?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Shut up and get moving. There’s our man.”

  She drags Matt deeper into the shifting crowds. The Hater they’re trailing is easy to spot, though Matt thinks it’s only because he knows what he’s looking for. The fucker has a rucksack full of supplies on his back and he moves with a casual arrogance, safe in the knowledge that if he needed to, he could kill just about anyone here. He marches with a purpose, and that too puts him at odds with the milling Unchanged masses.

  “Where d’you reckon he’s heading?” Matt asks.

  “No idea. I’m just hoping he keeps his distance from the people in the chapel.”

  “You don’t think he’d go there, do you?”

  “We’d have to be really fucking unlucky for him to find it. There’s only you, me, Franklin, and the folks already there who know where it is.”

  Matt keeps quiet. There’s an addition to the list of people who know where the group are waiting for evacuation, and that’s Jason. He took the decision to tell him last night. The order to leave could come at any moment. He had to tell Jason in case he’s not around when it happens. He needs to be certain Jen gets on the truck out of the camp. Matt remembers their whispered conversation in the kitchen, after Jen had gone to bed in the early hours of this morning. “You memorize these directions and repeat them back to me every morning, got it?” he’d told Jason.

  “Can’t I just write them down? No one’s going to know.”

  “No. We’re not taking any chances. Memorize it. I’ll need you to get Jen to safety when it all kicks off, and you’re not going to fuck it up, understand?”

  “I understand.”

  “Right, repeat it back to me.”

  “Follow the Elmswood Road into Highbridge, right on the outer edge of the camp. There’s a KFC with a collapsed frontage, hit by a truck. It’ll look like you can’t get in, but you can. Go right through the building and out the back. There’s a hole in the fence. Follow the path on the other side of the fence through the trees and out into No Man’s Land. There’s a church in the middle of a posh housing estate. It’s the only building left standing. Get under cover and wait there for the truck.”

  He’s confident Jason will remember. If not for Jen, then for himself. Matt’s only known him for several weeks, but it’s more than long enough to know that if there’s a way out of this madness, Jason will do everything he can to be first in line to take it. He’ll remember the way to the rendezvous because his life depends on it, never mind anyone else’s.

  The Hater is heading toward the City Arena. As a food distribution center it’s been out of commission for some time now, but there are still scores of people here, camped out and waiting for food they’re never going to get. Matt and Jayce pass the CDF-occupied school, and Matt’s surprised by the amount of military hardware left here unattended. Many vehicles. “You think they’d take them,” he says, thinking out loud.

  “What?”

  “All those trucks and jeeps. You think people would use them.”

  “Frightening, isn’t it? These poor idiots still think they’re safe here.”

  The Hater they’re tracking appears distracted, his attention piqued by a fenced-off mound of bodies which have been casually cremated, presumably to slow the spread of disease. Matt too can’t help but stare. It’s sobering how badly things have deteriorated.

  Up ahead there’s a sudden burst of panic as the Hater collides with a refugee heading in the opposite direction. With lightning speed the Unchanged man is off his feet and on his back, the Hater reaching for a weapon, ready to finish him off. Jayce holds Matt back, and when she puts her
hand across his chest Matt can’t help wondering if she still feels the same urge to fight as the Hater they’re watching. At the last possible moment the Hater remembers himself. He lets the other man go, brushes himself down, and carries on as if nothing’s happened.

  Jayce and Matt follow him across Millenium Square: a vast public space which is carpeted in shelters and people for the most part with wide, mud-caked plateaus where the rains have washed great swaths of the population away. Then he continues out toward the outermost edge of the camp. Wherever it is the Hater is heading, it’s beyond the city’s hastily redefined boundary. He’s on his way back out into the wilderness.

  * * *

  Jayce and Matt skulk through the ruins in silence, keeping far enough back from the Hater to be sure he won’t see them if he should stop and turn around. Fortunately he doesn’t. He’s clearly a man on a mission. They follow him through the dereliction until he reaches the remains of a concrete shopping plaza. He slips between two crumbling buildings. There’s only one clear way through the rubble. “Wait here,” Jayce tells Matt. “I’ll check it out. There’s less chance of him killing me.”

  Her words are of little comfort, but Matt does as instructed. He hides among the ransacked displays in an old hardware store and waits for her to return. He looks around for something with which he can arm himself. A garden shovel is the best he can find. It feels good to have something to hold, no matter how clumsy a weapon it might prove to be.

  Standing here on the inner edge of the wilderness, Matt again questions his sanity. Frequently over the last few days he’s felt as if he’s losing touch with both sides in this most brutal of wars, leaving him standing exposed and alone in the center ground. Whose side is he on? More to the point, who’s on his side? The lines between ally and enemy are becoming more blurred by the hour. Is Jayce coming back, or has she sold him out? Is she working with the Hater they’re following? Will she return with an army in tow?