by Ryan Casey
It was time to save his daughter.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Calvin stepped inside the caravan, and his heart sank.
He knew right away something was wrong. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t sense something was wrong the second he walked up the steps. It was the way Marie was standing there. The way she was bruised like she’d been beaten up.
And he didn’t know how things had reached this stage. He didn’t know things had got to this point. He didn’t know what might’ve happened for things to go quite this far.
But one thing was for sure.
He was certain of one thing.
Whatever had happened, he had no doubts that Marie was complicit, somehow.
He had no doubts that Marie was involved, somehow.
He knew he was wrong to question her without any real evidence. He knew he should think twice about trusting his gut. He shouldn’t just blindly doubt someone.
But there were signs with Marie. Signs that she wasn’t totally invested in what was going on here. Signs that she wasn’t totally happy with what was occurring.
And he knew there were things that naturally weren’t going to sit right with Marie. He knew there were things that wouldn’t sit right with anyone.
But Marie had committed. She’d shown willingness. Willingness to adapt to this place. Willingness to understand.
She was too deep in now to turn back.
“What happened here?” Calvin asked.
It was the hesitation that did it right away. The hesitation told Calvin all he needed to know about who to trust here. About something untoward occurring here.
It was the hesitation that made him realise he was right not to trust Marie.
Marie lifted a shaking finger. Pointed into the caravan. She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something. Then she closed it, didn’t say a word.
Calvin thought about grilling her. He thought about quizzing her. He thought about asking her all kinds of questions that would put her on the defensive right away.
But instead, he decided to play along.
He walked past her, inside the caravan, and he saw the scene of the crime.
And he wasn’t lying with that description. It was a crime scene.
Jared was dead. There was no doubt about that. He had died clutching his bleeding neck, spewing out onto the old-fashioned carpet below.
And Holly.
She was nowhere to be seen.
That was the main thing here. The main development.
That was the key piece of evidence that Calvin had to go on.
Calvin walked through to the back of the caravan. He reached the window at the back. Opened it. It had been opened already. No doubt about that. Holly had sneaked out of there. She’d scaled the fence. She’d got away.
But as far as Calvin was concerned?
There was no way she could’ve done what she’d done without help.
“So, she got away,” Calvin said, cold, accusing.
Marie sniffed as she approached behind him. “She—she just got out. And then—”
“And then she killed Jared. She attacked you, pretty brutally by the looks of things. And then she just got away from here. Simple as that. She found her way out of here, bad leg be damned, and she got over those fences and escaped. Right?”
He looked around at Marie, and he saw the look in her eyes. He saw the look on her face. The uncertainty. The uncertainty about her story. The uncertainty about whether she was going along the right lines or not.
He looked at her, and he waited for her response. He waited for her answer.
“That’s—that’s what happened.”
Calvin sighed. He brushed his fingers through his hair. A part of him had at least been hoping that she would concoct some kind of story. That she would at least try to come up with some excuse. This… it was just lazy. “Marie, please.”
“Calvin, that’s what—”
“Remember one of the first things I taught you, Marie? One of the first things we spoke about? Remember what that was?”
She lowered her head. Looked at the floor in shame.
“We spoke about honesty, didn’t we?”
Marie nodded. She looked like a lost child. It was actually kind of sad, seeing her like this, so broken down, so wounded.
But she was going to have to remember the lesson she’d been taught.
And she was going to have to remember it, fast.
“Can you tell me what we spoke about?” Calvin asked, walking up close to her, stroking the back of her head. “Exactly what we spoke about?”
She took a deep breath. Went stiff. And Calvin felt mixed emotions about that. Because she feared him. He wasn’t some psychopath. He wasn’t someone to fear.
He was someone to be respected, sure. But not feared.
“You—you told me to be honest. If I was torn about things. If I was conflicted about things. That’s… that’s just natural. Because what we’re doing here, it isn’t easy. It’s—it’s new ground. New territory. But we’re still on the same page about things. We’re still involved in the same thing. The same project. And—and as long as we’re all honest, we’ll—”
“Succeed,” Calvin said, finishing Marie’s words.
She looked at him again. There was something different about the way she looked at him now. A weakness. A weakness hinting at an honesty bubbling under the surface.
“So, Marie. I want you to be honest with me. I want you to tell me the truth. Did you let Holly go?”
Marie opened her mouth. Conflicted. That was enough. Enough to confirm things to Calvin. Enough to tell him all he needed to know.
“How did it happen?” he asked.
“She—she got away herself.”
Calvin sighed. “Marie…”
“No, that’s the truth. The honest truth. I don’t—I don’t know how she got out of the tape around her wrists. One second she was there, the next…” She glanced back to the living area where Jared’s body lay. “But then she stood over me. She told me—told me to help her get out.”
Calvin sensed honesty to Marie’s words. At least that was something. “So you helped her?”
“I just… I felt afraid.”
“You wanted to help her, didn’t you?”
“Calvin—”
“You wanted to help her.”
“I wanted to help her.”
That was it. And the look on Marie’s face that followed. The shock, like she hadn’t expected to say the words that came out of her mouth.
But she’d said them.
The words were out there.
They were in the air.
“I’m sorry,” Marie said, crying. “I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I failed you.”
“Ssh,” Calvin said, easing Marie towards him. He held her close. Let her cry onto him. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’ve been honest. You’ve accepted you made a mistake. That’s the main thing. That’s the biggest step.”
He wanted to forgive Marie.
He wanted to stay on the higher ground, morally.
But he couldn’t deny his anger.
He couldn’t deny how mad he felt.
He couldn’t deny how let down he felt.
“It’s going to be okay now,” he said. “Everything’s going to be okay. You don’t have to worry about a thing. Not anymore.”
He held Marie close. Arms around her neck.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said.
And then he squeezed.
Marie struggled. She punched out. She kicked out. She tried to cry out.
But it was no use because Calvin was holding on tightly. And he was tightening his grip more and more by the second.
Because Marie had betrayed him.
Marie had let Holly slip away.
Marie had let him down.
Marie kept on kicking. She scratched his face. And he thought about letting go. He thought about forgiving her. Because this was enough. This
was the only lesson she needed.
She’d stared death in the face, and that was enough to make her fear him.
That was enough to make her respect him.
He wasn’t sure how long he held on to Marie. But the next thing he knew, when he went to let go of her, she had gone still.
He pushed her away. Saw her, froth gathered around her lips, bloodshot eyes bulging in her skull.
And he felt regret. He felt pain. He felt bad for what he’d done.
But he took a deep breath.
Steadied himself. Composed himself.
Marie was a necessary sacrifice.
It was going to be worth it.
He walked back over to the window that Holly had escaped through.
And then he looked at the fence, and the town beyond.
He was going to find her.
He was going to bring her back here.
And he was going to make her pay in ways she couldn’t even imagine yet.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Mike headed further into the darkness, and he wasn’t sure where this road was going to end.
He just knew that he had to keep on going down it. He had to keep on pushing on.
Because his daughter was waiting for him at the end of this path.
The night was cool and still. It made a change from the stormier times they’d experienced lately. Mike looked around at the buildings surrounding him. He looked around at these empty houses, these abandoned shops. And he thought about how sad it was that they were probably never going to open again. That business was never going to resume.
He thought about how long they’d been closed. About how even if everything went back to normal again, what would happen to society? What would happen to capitalism? What would happen to the old systems? How would insurance be paid out? How would people get back on their feet again?
There were so many things to consider about the world after the world they were living in now. There were so many things to puzzle over the state it was in, how it was going to get back to the way it was—whether it ever was going to get back to the way it was.
But the main thing that struck Mike was that it probably never would get back to the way it was. It would probably be stuck in this chaos forever.
Things were always going to be the same as they were now.
One way or another, society was changed. For good.
Mike heard footsteps. He knew they were Sofia’s. She was walking alongside him. He felt grateful for her, in all truth. Grateful that she’d decided to come along with him. Because after all that time separated from the rest of the group—and separated from Ian specifically—she could easily have decided to just stay back there.
Especially when Holly had killed her son all those months ago.
But she was here now. She was with him. She had his back.
He had to be grateful for that. More than grateful.
“We should be there soon,” Sofia said.
Mike nodded. “Then you can head back if you want. I’ve got it from here.”
Sofia sighed, shook her head. “Don’t be daft, Mike.”
“That was what we agreed. You get me here. And then when I know exactly where I’m going, you head back. You get back to Ian. You get back to the others. You’ve made this journey once already. You don’t have to make it again. You shouldn’t.”
Sofia shook her head. “You know I only told Ian that so he’d let me go, don’t you?”
Mike frowned. “What—”
“Your daughter’s in that place. She’s stuck in that place. And as much as I know I might be safer if I turned back, I can’t do that. I just can’t do that. Not when someone’s out there. Not when they’re suffering alone.”
“But—”
“No buts, Mike. I’m with you. I’ve got your back. So you’re just going to have to accept you’re stuck with me, hmm?”
Mike wanted to argue. He wanted to protest. He wanted to convince Sofia otherwise. Convince her that she was making the wrong decision; the wrong call.
But he heard her. He heard what she was saying—clearly.
He heard her, and he knew he didn’t have a choice.
“What makes you want to help my daughter?” he asked.
He wasn’t sure where the question came from. Wasn’t sure where the words emerged. Just that deep down, he knew they had been coming for a long time. It felt like they’d had this ice to break for ages. That they’d kept things bottled up between them for so, so long.
But now it was the time to bury the hatchet.
Now it was the time to talk.
“It’s natural,” Sofia said. “As a mother. It’s natural to want to help out someone’s—”
“But that can’t always be the case,” Mike said. “Because… because you know my daughter’s different. You know she’s an exception.”
She looked at Mike blankly like she didn’t understand.
“She killed… she killed Tommy. She killed your son.”
Sofia took a deep breath, then. She smiled. “She tells me it was an accident.”
“And you believe her?”
She looked like she was really pondering the question. “Sometimes, I’m not so sure. Sometimes, when I’m awake late at night, I wonder. I wonder about my decision to let her go. I wonder about whether I’ve done the right thing. And I know Ian has those worries, too. I know he has those concerns. But then… then I’ve spent time with her. I’ve lived with her. And I see it. I see it from a different perspective now. I see her from a different perspective. She’s had her struggles. She’s had her battles. But she’s… she’s good. Inherently good. And you deserve a lot of credit for keeping her that way in this world.”
Mike scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t really think I can take the credit for—”
“But you can,” Sofia said. “You have to. She’s a good person. A mixed-up person. A confused person. But she’s good.”
Mike looked at Sofia. And he smiled. Because he couldn’t believe that someone could be so forgiving. He couldn’t believe that someone could be so understanding. “I owe you a lot.”
Sofia sighed. “After our first child died… it changed me. It changed Ian, too. But after Tommy… things are different. Really different. I think I see the world differently, now. And I see that blaming people, that doesn’t get you anywhere most of the time. Holding this anger and this frustration… it doesn’t achieve anything. It only digs you into a deeper and deeper hole. And before you know it, you can’t get out of it.”
Mike smiled at Sofia. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Well you’ve got out of it this time.”
Sofia smiled back. Then she looked back. “Hey. Look, we’re here.”
Mike looked up, and he saw the place.
It was a junkyard. A scrap heap. Massive skips.
He was amazed he hadn’t come across this place already. They must’ve circled it several times when they’d been on the road.
But that didn’t matter. It was irrelevant now.
They were here.
There were people in some of those skips, apparently. But you wouldn’t know from this distance. Not with the way they were closed up, protected from the elements—or rather protecting what was inside them from the outside world.
It looked quiet. It looked ominous. It looked… dead.
Mike took a deep breath. Clenched his fists together. Because he knew what he had to do here. He knew exactly where he had to go.
“Just be careful,” Sofia said. “There were plenty of people here before. I… I don’t know where they’ve—”
“I’ve got this,” Mike said.
He took a step towards the junkyard.
He should’ve heard it coming.
He felt the pain against the back of his head.
The pain of something hard cracking against his skull.
And then he fell to the ground, the consciousness slipping out of his body, and everything went black.
Cha
pter Forty
When Mike opened his eyes, he didn’t know where he was.
He’d lost all sense of time, all sense of place. All he knew was that it was dark. He couldn’t tell whether it was dark from a blindfold or legitimately dark, not yet. He didn’t know what images in his mind were memories and which were dreams. He just knew that he needed to figure out where he was. Fast.
Because something told him he was in danger.
He tried to move, but his hands were bound together. Tried to move his feet, but they were trapped, too. He went to open his mouth, to shout out, but there was something over his lips, too. Some kind of tape.
He was blindfolded. Someone had captured him.
And the back of his head was hurting like mad.
He strained. Strained to think. Strained to remember. Colours. Sounds. All of them surging around his mind, but at the same time, he had no idea how they slotted together, how they slipped into place as one.
He figured they were like jigsaw pieces. Pieces of a puzzle. He wasn’t sure when they were going to click into place, but he was sure they were at some stage.
He thought about Holly, and…
Holly.
Holly.
The thought of her sparked a memory. A series of memories. Like he was tuning back into the matrix. Like he was rediscovering his self.
He saw her disappearing.
He saw himself walking down a road with Sofia, who he’d thought earlier was dead.
He saw himself arriving at the place where Sofia insisted Holly had been captured.
He saw himself looking around those skips, wanting to know what was inside each of them, wanting to discover whoever was there waiting for him.
But then somebody had hit him.
He’d fallen to the ground.
The next thing he knew, he was waking up, here.
He felt recharged by his memories. Like at least he knew what his goal was now. At least he had reconnected with his purpose. At least he had a sense where he was going, what he was doing.
As much of a trap as he appeared to be in.
He tried to move. Tried to break free of whatever was around his wrists. He’d been in situations like this before, and he was still here to tell the tale, so he could get out of this one. There was nothing stopping him breaking out of this situation. There was nothing stopping him getting away.
