by Ryan Casey
He felt that sadness.
He felt that empathy.
That total empathy.
He looked down at the box.
Went to reach into it. Because he could hand a little over. Just a little for his wife to get by these next few days.
Then he saw something else.
It all happened in a flash.
The glimpse of something in that guy’s right hand.
A knife.
And at that moment, he felt another combination of emotions.
Sadness.
Guilt.
Because he knew what he had to do now.
He pulled back his fist and knocked that old man to the floor.
He heard him slam against it. Heard his head crack against the wall. And the worst thing of all, as he climbed over him, as he raced towards the hall, was that he could still hear that man shouting back at him. Begging him.
“Please. Please.”
Bruce stopped when he reached the kitchen.
He reached into the box of insulin.
Pulled a couple of bottles out and put them on the floor.
Just as he went to leave, he heard a woman’s voice upstairs.
“Derek? Is everything okay?”
Bruce’s stomach sank. Guilt rushed through his system.
He looked down at that box of insulin.
And as much as it pained him, he placed one more bottle on the floor.
And then he ran out of that house, out into the darkness, out into the wind and rain, and towards Sadia, towards his daughter.
He pulled her out of the bushes. And then he grabbed her. Held her tight.
“It’s okay now,” he said. “It’s okay.”
He held on to her hand, and he looked back at that dark, terraced cottage.
And then, together with his daughter, he ran off into the night.
Chapter Five
Noah sat in the living room long after the others had gone up to bed that night.
It was windy outside. Rain pelted against the windows. He couldn’t sleep if he wanted to. Sleep was a real luxury these days. He didn’t know whether his sleep pattern would ever return to normal. It felt like every time he drifted off, a sudden bolt of anxiety crashed right into his chest, jolting him back to wakefulness. He figured it had some kind of evolutionary purpose, or whatever. He was living in a dangerous world. It stood to reason that he would be on high alert, and sleeping was risky business when anything could be going on outside.
But tonight felt different altogether.
He sat on the sofa. Stared out into the darkness. Listened to the rain and the wind. He’d taken a few meditation classes when he was getting his shit back in order a few years ago. Taught himself the skill of sitting and observing his thoughts, like waves on the ocean, rather than engaging with them. And sometimes, when he remembered this habit, it helped. He was really able to step back and just witness his crazy mind in all its neurotic glory.
But often, he forgot. And when shit was going on—real shit was going on—it became far harder to disentangle and disengage from his thinking mind.
He thought about Mum and Dad. He wondered where they were. He often thought about heading back home, seeing if they’d gone back there. He liked to think they were safe somewhere. In a quarantined community, with supplies, and with someone caring looking over them, keeping an eye on them.
But every time he had these hopeful thoughts, another thought came to mind. What if they’d gone out seeking help and fallen victim to the virus in the middle of the street? What if they’d come looking for him? What if they’d been kidnapped and taken away?
The possibilities were endless. The options were harrowing.
But there was nothing sitting here and mulling it over could do about it.
Hell. There were plenty of things they could mull over. Like why the net and the power had gone out so quickly. Surely there were backups for those kinds of things?
It made Noah wonder. Made him speculate. Didn’t seem right.
Something was off about it, and he couldn’t help thinking it was something to do with those videos of cities around the world collapsing under the weight of the virus circulating.
Like the powers that be were trying to suppress… something.
He heard footsteps creaking down the stairs, and the hairs on his neck stood on end.
When he saw who appeared at the door, an instant wave of relaxation washed over him.
“Sorry,” Jasmine said. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Figured you were still awake.”
She walked into the lounge. Over to the sofa. Sat by Noah’s side. She didn’t say anything. She just sat there. Stared out into the darkness with him.
It was a while before she said anything.
“How are you feeling about tomorrow?”
Noah looked across at her. His stomach sank a little. That acknowledgement that something was happening tomorrow. That they were leaving this place. Going out and seeking supplies or shelter elsewhere... it was hard to entertain. As necessary as it was.
He shook his head. “Got to do what we’ve got to do.”
“Hardly screams ‘optimism’.”
“What do you want me to say? I’m excited about this opportunity?”
“I just... I get the feeling you’d just stay here if you had the chance. That you’d rather stay here and die than go out there and risk it all.”
Noah looked into Jasmine’s eyes, and he wanted to tell her everything. The root of his feelings. The sense that he’d found his people again. That he’d found her again. And the thought of losing her, of losing it all, it tore him up inside.
He didn’t want to risk anything. But not for himself. For those around him.
“Whatever you think about my motives doesn’t really matter,” Noah said. “We’re going out there tomorrow. We don’t know what we’re going to find, but we can probably assume it’s not going to be all sunshine and daisies.”
“Which is why we need to be ready,” Jasmine said. “For any eventuality. The rules have changed out there in such a short time. We need to adapt. Fast. Or we’ll die.”
Noah looked back into Jasmine’s eyes, and he smiled. “You suit it, you know?”
“Suit what?”
“This vaguely psychopathic streak. I knew you always had it in you. Only took a brutal pandemic to really help you spread your wings and fly.”
She shook her head. Tutted. “This isn’t about self-interest. It’s about...”
She stopped, then. Looked into his eyes a little too closely. Then she lowered her head. Looked away.
It was those looks that said it all. There was something else to what Jasmine was saying—or in what she wasn’t saying.
And Noah wanted to ask her. He wanted to tell her to finish.
But in the end, he couldn’t.
So they just sat there. Together in silence. Staring out into the darkness.
“Do you not think about your parents?” Noah asked.
Jasmine looked around. “What?”
“Your parents. I know... I know things were complicated with them. But do you not wonder where they are? What they’re doing? Whether they’re okay?”
Jasmine tilted her head. Noah half-expected her to come out with something brutally pragmatic, or ruthlessly rational.
But her answer surprised him.
“All the time,” she said. “It eats me up. But I know... I know this is the right thing we’re doing here. I have to believe it’s the right thing. Because if I don’t, I question everything. Every damned thing.”
That flicker to her eyes. The twitching of her eyelashes, always the way when she was upset.
He wanted to reach over. Wanted to hold her hand.
But in the end, he just kept his hand there on the sofa.
The space between them tangible.
Excruciating.
“It’ll be okay,” Noah said.
“What?”
“It’ll work out.
All of this. One way or another.”
Jasmine puffed out her lips. “Have you ever considered a career in motivational speaking?”
“Shut up,” Noah said.
“I’m serious. I feel like my life has changed dramatically in the space of a few words. You should really consider it.”
Noah looked at Jasmine, and he smiled. He saw her smiling back at him.
And for that brief moment, it could’ve been a night back when they were together.
A night when things were good between them.
A night before everything fell apart.
So he luxuriated in that moment.
He allowed it to wash over him, without clinging to it, without resisting the way things were now.
He bathed in it.
He sat silently next to the only woman he’d ever loved and stared out into the darkness.
Inside him, for the first time in a long time, he felt a light.
Chapter Six
If there’s one situation Rupert Wisdom never imagined he’d find himself caught up in, it was guarding a quarantine zone in the midst of what appeared to be the worst damned pandemic the globe had ever seen.
It was late. Nights were always difficult, especially when it was rainy and windy like this. They’d been lucky up to now. It was the middle of summer, so they’d mostly been treated to decent weather.
But tonight, they were getting a real battering. Which made patrolling out here on guard duty a real shitter.
He looked at the large sports hall to his right. It was an old school building. Of course, the school had closed down. Everywhere had closed down. They’d erected fences around it. Barbed wire, partly to stop people getting in, but also to stop them getting out. There was still so much mystery surrounding this outbreak, though. One day, Rupert was working at the army barracks. The next, he was being told he and the rest of his colleagues were immediately being drafted into an emergency situation.
Their goal? Gather survivors. Screen them for signs of the virus. If they didn’t show signs, let them shelter at the sports hall. If they did...
He didn’t like to think about that too much.
He didn’t like to think about the gymnasium too much.
There were other things, too. Things his mates spoke about. Talks about Russia. Talks about biological warfare. And other shit, too. Hearing weird noises from the burned bodies. Or from inside the gymnasium. Seeing movement in the night. Talks of ghosts in the streets. Of suppression, and of lies.
Rupert didn’t like to think about it too much.
He knew it was all just hearsay. All just bullshit.
He looked over at the gymnasium on the other side of the school. The place where they took the infected. The place where they stationed them. Better guarded. On lockdown.
It was crucially important that nobody got in there.
Even more important that nobody got out.
He looked nervously over at that door and felt his throat turn dry.
The immediate goal here was one of containment. The government’s last orders before it collapsed and everything went dark were to limit the spread of the virus at all costs. At any cost.
And that sometimes meant violent measures.
Rupert felt shivers creep up his arms. He didn’t like to think about the blood. The screams. The sound of begging. It hurt him too much. There were things he’d seen that a person wasn’t supposed to see. Things he’d take some time to get over, if ever he got over them.
The more the days went on, the more the supplies gradually dwindled, the more he feared his sanity was on the verge of splitting into two, shattering all around him.
A dangerous predicament to be in when you were holding a rifle in hand.
He thought back to his previous life. ‘‘Cause that’s what it was now. A previous life. A ghostly reminder of the past. Leaving home at sixteen. Falling into petty crime. Finding his way in the army, the most structure he’d had in his life. Throwing himself headfirst into that career. Something he was proud of.
And now, standing here, responsible for some of the things he’d been responsible for, he questioned that pride. Really examined it under the microscope.
But he couldn’t question his actions.
This was a war zone.
It was all in the name of the greater good.
He heard a noise over by the gym. Looked over there, as much as he tried not to, as much as he wanted to resist.
When he looked, he saw something.
Or rather, a lack of something.
There was always someone standing by the entrance to the gymnasium. Always. Tonight, it was Beth. But he couldn’t see her anywhere.
He looked away. Pretended he hadn’t noticed. If he just kept his head down and focused on his own job and pretended, maybe everything would be okay.
But he couldn’t stop turning around.
He couldn’t stop looking.
And the more he looked, the more he realised he couldn’t just let this slide. He couldn’t ignore it.
It was his responsibility. As a soldier.
He took a deep breath and walked down towards the gymnasium.
He heard light muffles inside there, like rats scuttling around. He swore he could even smell the stench coming through those walls. He didn’t like being close to it. Didn’t like being anywhere near it. He feared he was contaminating himself just breathing the air close to it.
But he kept on going. Because something wasn’t right here. Beth wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
He looked back over his shoulder. Saw the rain crashing down, illuminated by a sudden flash of lightning. He knew he shouldn’t abandon his own post. But this was more important than that. This was more serious than that.
He turned back around, and he noticed something.
By the side of the door, someone sat there. Back against the wall. Staring into the darkness.
Beth.
Relief filled Rupert’s body. She was okay. She was fine. He was reading into things too much. She was just having a sit down. She was just...
He was about to turn around when he noticed something.
Beth was still.
Very still.
He froze. Stood there. Torn. To keep walking. Or to turn back around. To return to his post.
He wanted to turn around. To walk back.
But his sense of responsibility got the better of him.
His sense of curiosity got the better of him.
He took a few steps towards Beth.
“Beth?”
She didn’t say a word.
He kept on walking. Knot tightening in his stomach. Nausea crowding around him.
“Beth?” he said. “Are you...”
He reached the front of her, and he saw something that filled him with fear.
Beth’s white face mask was covered in blood.
Her eyes were streaming.
She looked up at him. Tearful. Shook her head.
And at that awful moment, Rupert looked at Beth and thought she looked… dead.
Rupert’s body sank. His jaw tensed. He wanted to give Beth a chance. He wanted to let her go. Let her leave. Let her die with dignity.
But then he remembered his orders.
He remembered his duty.
As a soldier.
He lifted his rifle in his shaking hands.
Pointed it at Beth.
Looked right into her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Rupert said.
He closed his eyes, and he pulled the trigger.
The gunshot echoed around the school grounds.
Rupert kept his eyes sealed shut.
Kept on standing there.
Shaking.
Not looking.
He heard footsteps. Heard voices. And he waited for the recriminations. He waited for the judging glances. He waited for the fallout.
But he knew he’d done the right thing.
He knew he’d been a soldier.
He knew he
’d acted.
He stood there, holding that rifle, holding his breath, trying to cling on to his sanity, trying to hold it all together.
But when he finally looked at Beth’s body, at the blood on the wall, at the bullet wound right in the middle of her chest, he knew his sanity had already slipped.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about how dead she looked.
Chapter Seven
Jasmine slept pretty good considering she was shit-scared about what came next.
She went down into the kitchen. Sunlight beamed through the windows. It looked nice outside. Warm. Inviting. She could hear the birds singing. See them fluttering around, not a care in the world. It felt hopeful, looking out there. Optimistic.
But it also felt daunting, too.
Because Jasmine didn’t know what kind of world they were walking out into. She didn’t know what she was going to find. What to expect.
Only that their world was going to change, all over again, in ways she couldn’t even imagine.
Noah was up already. He sat at the kitchen table, half-full cup of water in hand. He looked pale and sweaty, with dark circles under his eyes. Clearly hadn’t slept much.
“Nice of you to finally join us,” Kelly muttered. She was up, too. Hell, even Eddie was up. They looked ready to go. Raring to get on with today. Nervous. Eager.
Jasmine nodded. She sat at the table, Barney at her feet right away. She felt pretty refreshed after last night. She wasn’t sure if it was totally the sleep she’d had, or whether it was Noah, too. The conversation they’d had last night. The moment they’d had.
Because she couldn’t deny the truth.
They’d had a moment.
She didn’t like to read too much into it. She didn’t want to think about it. Because it was hurtful. It was painful.
She knew these people thought she was a bit detached. She knew Kelly thought it of her at the very least, and Noah had suggested as much, too. Eddie... well, Eddie was Eddie, for better or for worse. She didn’t care so much about his opinion anyway. As harsh as that sounded.
“You fancy some food before we go?” Kelly asked.
Jasmine shook her head. “I don’t do breakfast.”
Kelly shrugged. Poured herself some extra beans. “Suit yourself. Dunno when our next proper meal’s gonna be, though, so I think you’re a bit of an idiot.”
