by Casey, Ryan
They hadn’t planned on staying here. But naturally, the weather had thrown a spanner in the works of their plans. Just hours after the snow seemed to be melting away in the brightness of the sun, a staggering storm hit this town. Three feet of snow had fallen in the space of an hour. The winds were strong, and the air was bitter.
They’d had no choice but to head into an old newsagents and take shelter while the storm eased.
Hours later and they were still inside.
Jack peered out of the shop window. The snow looked like it was back to manageable levels. The late evening sun broke through the clouds. He felt that itch to move. That desire to get away from here and on towards Barrow intensified by the moment.
It didn’t help that he was trapped in here with Pete and Hazel. Especially with Hazel so caught up in Pete. As if the last few months hadn’t even happened at all.
He watched the snow trickle down, and he went to turn around to tell his people they’d better get moving when he saw Hazel standing opposite him.
“Christ,” he said. “You made me jump.”
She looked at him with wide eyes, with a pale face. “Can we talk?”
Jack rubbed his arms, looked everywhere but Hazel’s eyes. “We need to get moving. The snow’s eased. We shouldn’t stick around here much longer. We’ve been here too long. Martin’s group, they—”
“Jack,” Hazel said. “We need to talk.”
Jack looked into Hazel’s eyes, and he knew there was no escaping this conversation now. The inevitable was going to be laid out to him. Hazel and Pete. The revelation that they were picking up where they’d left off.
And was Jack wrong for feeling envious?
Was he wrong for feeling bitter?
Jack sighed. “Look. I get it. Pete… Pete’s your husband. You’ve run into each other. You’re picking up where you left off. I get that. Just… just appreciate it’s not as easy for me, okay? Not after what Pete did to me. Not after what he did to… to us.”
Hazel stood there and stared into Jack’s eyes. She hadn’t looked away, not once.
“Well?” Jack said. “You gonna say something? Or are you just gonna stand there and glare?”
Hazel didn’t say a word.
But she lifted her hand and placed it on Jack’s arm.
“Jack… what we had. It was beautiful. But it ended. It finished. Many years ago.”
Jack’s stomach sank. Here we go…
“But,” Hazel said. “I’ve… I’ve enjoyed getting to know you again. I’ve enjoyed what we’ve worked through between us. The relationship we’ve rebuilt. And I—I don’t think I could’ve got through the things I’ve got through if you weren’t here.”
Jack thought of Wayne, and he felt a void inside. He nodded. “Yeah, well, I’m glad I could be of service.”
Hazel shook her head. “Don’t be like that. I… I need some time to figure things out. About you. About Pete. But right now, that can’t be a frigging priority. We’ve got a chance, our people. A real opportunity for a fresh start. For the first time in a long time, there’s actually hope out there. That’s what we need to focus on. Not our own psychodramas. We need to work together. And we need to do what’s right for each other as a group. Survival comes first. Then our own selfish shit comes next. Right?”
Jack looked into Hazel’s eyes. Then, he looked down the aisle of the old newsagents, past the papers still dated the day the world collapsed. Some bollocks about the economic impact of Brexit plastered on the front of them. So irrelevant now, in the grand scheme of things.
At the other side of the store, he heard Pete talking with Candice. Laughing about something. And as much as it put him on edge… he knew Hazel was right.
Pete was a miracle, whether he liked it or not.
He’d appeared from nowhere offering hope.
He, of all people, was their saviour.
And Jack had to seize that with both hands, whether he wanted to or not.
He took a deep breath, looked back into Hazel’s eyes, and he nodded.
“I hate to say this, but you’re right.”
Hazel frowned. “Wait … what? What did you just say?”
“You’re right.”
“Again,” Hazel said. “I didn’t quite hear that. Could you say it a little louder?”
Jack smiled. “Not a chance. But we really need to think about moving now. If we set off tonight, we can make some real progress this next day. We have to make the most of the fact the weather’s eased off. We don’t know how long that might be the case—”
A bang.
Jack jumped. Looked over to the newsagents door.
Bella was standing there.
She had her hands on her knees. Leaning forward. Panting.
“Bella?” Jack said.
She looked up at him with fear in her eyes.
“They’re here. Martin’s group. They’re here.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jack rushed to the door of the newsagents, Bella’s revelation ringing in his ears.
Darkness was setting in. Snow fell lightly. The wind roared, but not as strongly as it had earlier. They’d had a golden opportunity to get out of this place. A perfect chance to leave and continue their journey to Barrow.
But then Bella flew in here and delivered the news.
She stood there, hands on her knees, panting. The rest of the group had gathered around now too. Villain and Mrs Fuzzles seemed uncertain like they too could sense Jack and his people’s unease.
All he could do was stand by the window and try to peer into the distance.
But he couldn’t see anything.
Not from here.
“Did they see you?” Jack asked.
Bella shook her head. “I—I don’t think—”
“Bella,” Jack said. “Did they see you?”
She looked up at Jack with regret on her face, and she shook her head. “I don’t know, honestly. But I don’t think so.”
Jack nodded. He looked around at his group. Looked at Pete standing there with that rifle. And as pinned in here as he felt, as oppressed as he felt, he sensed an opportunity. A chance.
“Maybe we can use this,” Jack said.
Candice frowned. “Use it? You heard what Bella said. Martin’s people are here. How the hell are we supposed to use this?”
“By taking him out,” Susan said.
Everyone turned to Susan. Looked at her standing there, eyes locked on Jack’s.
“We have a chance,” she said. “He doesn’t know we’re here.”
“We can’t be sure about that,” Hazel said.
“But we have a chance,” Susan said. “And it might be the best chance we get. It might be the only chance we get. So the element of surprise. We’ve got to use it. Right, Jack?”
Jack looked at his group, and he thought about the opportunity they had to just lay low. Let Martin’s group pass. Avoid any potential conflict. After all, Martin’s group outnumbered and outgunned his.
But then the thought of taking Martin out grew in his mind. The head of the snake. Leave the rest of the group in disorder and disarray.
A perfect opportunity.
A perfect chance.
But there was still something holding him back.
“It’s not going to be easy,” Jack said. “Not while he has Iain and the kids.”
Susan sighed. “But if we don’t do something, we might never have a chance again. They’ll be lost. And we’ll have to live with the knowledge that we could’ve tried doing something, and we didn’t. We chose not to. Do we want that on our conscience?”
Jack didn’t. He agreed with Susan.
But it was the rest of his people he thought about.
Not wanting to drag them into the line of conflict.
But also what Candice had said to him about respecting the voice of the group. About hearing the group before rushing into his own decisions.
He had to play this right.
And time was r
unning out.
“Whatever we decide,” Jack said, “the truth is, we’re running out of time. We need to do something. We need to act. Whatever we do comes with its risks. But… but I feel like Susan’s right, for what it’s worth. We have a chance to deal with Martin. We have a chance to take him out. A chance to try and rescue Iain and the kids. We might never get that chance again. So isn’t it worth it?”
The group looked at one another. Pete looked on, silent. Like he respected Jack’s verdict. Like he was really hearing him out.
And Jack couldn’t fault him for that.
Jack lowered his head. Looked at his feet. “Pete,” he said. “We could… we could really use your rifle.”
Pete was silent. When Jack looked up at him, he saw him looking right at him. Half-smile on his face.
And he didn’t want to take that as a defeat.
Not another defeat against Pete.
But hell. That didn’t matter, right now, did it? Not in the scheme of things.
He remembered what Hazel said.
Survival comes first. Then our own selfish shit comes next.
And then he heard Pete speak.
“You can use it,” he said. “You can deal with this problem of yours. If you tell me these people are a threat, then I don’t really want them near my home, either. We’ve got enough on our plate without more lunatics causing shit.”
He loosened the rifle from his shoulder. Walked over to Jack. Handed it to him.
“So do what you have to do. If you think it’s right.”
Jack looked at the rifle. He looked at Pete. He wanted to resist it. Wanted to tell Pete to do one. He didn’t want to be at this douchebag’s mercy. Not again.
But then he took a deep breath, and he took that rifle from Pete.
He looked at the rest of his people.
“We move upstairs,” he said. “We wait for them to get here. And then we strike.”
Bella stared over Jack’s shoulder. She pointed out the front window. “I think—I think we’re a little late for that.”
Jack looked over his shoulder.
His stomach sank.
Martin’s group waded through the snow, right in front of the newsagents.
Jack turned around slowly. Rifle in hand. “Upstairs. Quickly.”
Hazel rushed over. “Jack, it’s too late—”
“Upstairs,” he said. “All of you. Right now.”
Hazel looked back into his eyes. She shook her head. “Don’t do something that puts us all in danger, Jack. Don’t let vengeance get in the way. Not again.”
And then she turned around with the rest of the group, and she ran.
Pete stood at the bottom of the stairs. Stared at Jack. It looked like there was so much he wanted to say.
But in the end, he just took a deep breath. “You sure you don’t want some backup?”
Jack looked at Pete, and as much as he wanted to hate his old best friend… he just couldn’t.
He shook his head. “Not a lot you can do standing here. Go upstairs. Keep an eye on the others. If anything happens…”
He didn’t finish that sentence. Didn’t have to. Pete knew what he was getting at.
He stood there a few seconds. Went to say something else.
And then he followed the rest of the group upstairs.
Jack turned around. He watched Martin wade through the snowy streets. He crept towards the window. Crouched right by it, the rifle in his hand still warm from Pete’s grip. He pushed the door open, just slightly, the cold wind freezing his face in an instant.
He stood there in the breeze. Aimed his rifle. Pointed it right at Martin with his shaky grip.
He held his breath as these people walked through the streets.
And he saw it. The opportunity. The chance to take Martin out.
One shot and it was over.
He readied himself to fire when he saw something else.
Iain. The kids.
Bags over their heads.
Being dragged through the streets.
Rifles to their backs.
He saw them, and he knew damn well doing anything to Martin right now would endanger them.
He couldn’t endanger them. Not after everything they’d done for Jack and his people. Not for all the truths they’d made him realise about trust. About family.
And for all the kindness they’d shown.
He tightened his grip on that rifle. Got Martin right in his sights again. He prepared to pull the trigger. Prepared to fire.
And then something else happened.
Martin.
He turned around.
And he looked right towards Jack.
For a moment, Jack swore Martin saw him. He swore he stared back into his eyes. Hell, he swore he smiled.
And at that moment, the urge to pull the trigger grew.
But then something even more unexpected happened.
Martin turned away.
He kept on walking.
Disappeared into the snow.
Jack stayed there. Kept on watching these people pass through the town. Kept on watching as the snow eased. As the clouds parted once more.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed when the stairs behind him creaked, and Bella appeared by his side.
“What happened?” she asked.
Jack stayed there. Rifle in hand. Staring out into the darkness.
“I couldn’t get a clean shot,” he said.
He turned around. Walked to the back of the newsagents. Saw Pete, handed him the rifle.
Pete took the rifle. Nodded. Didn’t ask a thing.
And as Jack stood there, as much as he felt like an opportunity had been missed, he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d done what was right for his people. For Iain and the kids.
But he couldn’t shake the way he swore Martin turned around and looked him right in the eyes, either.
As storm clouds thickened once again, Jack hoped he didn’t live to regret it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jack waded through the melting snow as the sun beamed down from above.
It was morning. They’d decided to stay put at the newsagents last night due to another sudden bout of intense weather. Besides, the thought of creating some distance between his group and Martin’s group was appealing—even if the distance was in the wrong direction.
Even so, Pete knew the specifics of where they were going. Martin’s group just had a vague idea they were heading towards Barrow. Jack’s group still very much had the advantage here.
He wanted Pete to tell him more about the place in Barrow. He wanted him to tell him about the setup there. He wanted him to be open about it. Truly open.
But then he supposed he had to trust Pete. He wanted the best for Hazel, after all.
Still, trusting the guy who’d stolen your wife when she was at her lowest wasn’t exactly easy.
He walked through the empty, derelict streets. Emma walked alongside him. She seemed to have taken to him more than ever these last few days. Seemed like even though she held some resentment for the way he’d held her back, she was actually growing to respect him.
She was a tough kid. He was glad to have her by his side.
He looked around. Hazel and Pete walked together again. He felt that momentary glimmer of unease about it all. But then he remembered what Hazel said. She needed time to figure things out. Their survival was the important thing right now.
“Jack.”
Jack looked back at Emma. Lifted his knife instinctively.
And then he saw it.
In the street, right ahead of them, a deer stood. It sniffed around at the snow. Desperate to eat. It looked bony. Unwell.
He was hungry too. And he knew Emma was eager to prove her worth.
But this deer… he felt for it. Because it was surviving, just like he was. It had made it this far, just like them.
“I could take it out,” Emma said, crouching, creeping in its direction.
Jack pu
t a hand on her shoulder. “No.”
She looked around at him. Frowned. “But—”
“Let it live,” Jack said.
Emma’s cheeks flushed. “Don’t tell me you’re getting soft.”
“There’s getting soft, and then there’s not doing something when we don’t have to do it. There’s sparing lives when we get the chance to. We’re getting closer to Barrow. Closer to hope. We don’t need to hunt. Not… not anymore.”
Emma was quiet for a few seconds as this deer kept on sniffing around the snow. “Is that why you let Martin go last night?”
Jack frowned. “What?”
“I saw you. He was right there. Right in front of you. You had a clear shot. You didn’t take it. Is that why?”
Jack’s stomach sank. He should’ve known Emma was watching him, damn it. He thought about what she said. Was that why he’d spared Martin, really? Was it all because he didn’t need to take him out? Because he didn’t need to engage in conflict with him now they were so close to hope?
He didn’t really know himself.
He just knew that he felt bad for preventing Emma once again.
But at the same time… this wasn’t preventing anything but unnecessary violence.
“There’s a lot of reasons why we do or don’t do things,” Jack said. “Right now, we don’t need to do this. Anyway. Looks like it clocked you before you had a chance.”
Emma looked over.
The deer raised its head.
Then it bolted off towards the buildings.
Emma sighed. “I could’ve caught it.”
“I don’t doubt that. But you didn’t, and that’s something too. You don’t always have to take every opportunity to show your strength, Emma. Sometimes, restraint is an even stronger move.”
She shook her head like she didn’t really believe what he was saying.
And he knew he needed to even things with her. Prove that he wasn’t trying to control her. But also prove that he was conquering this overprotectiveness of his people.
“But that squirrel there,” Jack said, pointing into the distance somewhat reluctantly. “Figure you might fancy getting your revenge after that little bugger bit you the other day, right?”
Emma looked around.
Took her a few seconds, but eventually, she saw it.
