by Casey, Ryan
“So we’re close?” Bella asked.
A smile stretched across Pete’s face. “We’re close, alright.”
There was something uncertain about Pete, though. Jack didn’t know what it was at first.
Not until he saw he was looking beneath the signpost to Barrow.
There was something smeared there in red. It looked like blood.
A symbol of some kind. Kind of looked like a pretzel.
“Something we should be worried about?”
Pete glanced around at him, clearly dazed. He took in a deep breath, shook his head. “Not if we keep moving.”
“But it does mean something?”
Pete looked around at their surroundings. They were on a motorway now, taking the most direct route available. Abandoned cars surrounded them, windows frozen over with ice. The ones that were intact, anyway—most of them had been smashed open by looters in the early days.
Every now and then though, as they crept down this slippery road, Jack saw a reminder of the past in one of those cars. He’d see a Peppa Pig blanket tucked into a booster seat. Or pieces of LEGO scattered across the back seat. Reminders of the children who had been caught up in this world.
He thought about them. Wondered where they were now. Hoped they were still okay. Still alive.
But deep down, he knew the dark truth about what’d happened to the majority. The unprepared.
“Hopefully not,” Pete added, breaking Jack from his daze. “Now come on. We’d better keep moving. If we’re lucky, we might even make it to Barrow tonight.”
Pete walked past that sign. The rest of the group followed him.
But Jack couldn’t stop staring at that symbol.
That pretzel shape, in deep red.
“I’ve seen those before.”
The voice made Jack jump a little. Didn’t know where it came from. Not at first.
He looked around and saw Trent staring at the sign.
Jack lifted his rifle. Pointed it at Trent. “Shut your mouth and get moving.”
Trent glanced down at that rifle, then back up at Jack. “Saw them all the way back towards Windermere. Those same symbols. That same pattern. Over signs. On trees. Everywhere.”
Unease crept through Jack’s body, but he didn’t want to show it. “If you’re trying to scare us to get some leverage or whatever, you’re not doing a very good job. I can see right through it.”
Trent sighed. He lifted his hands, not for the first time. “I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again. I haven’t got no plans against you, Jack. All I wanna do is get to Barrow. If I have to fight my case there then… hell, I have to fight my case. Let’s just get there, alright? But please. You’ve gotta believe me when I tell you I ain’t tryin’ to screw with you. Or don’t. Whatever. Your call. Those symbols. They just freak me out, is all.”
Jack looked into Trent’s eyes, and he wanted to believe him. He wanted to trust him. So many signs pointed towards this not being a trap of any kind.
But he still had to keep his guard up. For the sake of his people.
“Come on,” Jack said. “Lead the way. Make sure you keep us off the track your people were on, and we’ll be fine. And like you say. Barrow can be the judge of you.”
Trent shrugged and sighed. “Hell. I told you too. We’re way past where I left Martin’s group. But I know what it’s like to be judged. Been judged my whole damned life.”
He turned around, followed the rest of the group down this motorway. They were silent for a while. Jack walked with Villain by his side. Villain was doing a lot better now. He’d livened up. The squirrel he’d eaten helped with that.
He saw the town of Ulverston approaching in the distance, and he felt something. An urge to learn more about Trent. A desire to know what he meant about being judged his whole life.
He might not trust him. But he could try learning something about him.
Hell. It might even put him at ease a little.
“What did you mean?” Jack asked.
Trent glanced around. “Huh?”
“Before. When you said about being judged. What did you mean by that?”
A smile crept up Trent’s face. He rolled his eyes. “Ah. So now you wanna know the truth, do you?”
Jack shook his head. “Suit yourself. Bad idea anyway. Just trying to make convers—”
“I was abused as a kid.”
The words dropped to the ground like lead.
Jack didn’t know what to say. “I’m… I’m s—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. Sick of people saying they’re sorry my whole life. Hell, the uncle who did it, even he was sorry. Didn’t stop him doing it again. And again.”
A sickly lump filled Jack’s throat. The kind that every parent felt when they heard about a child being abused by their own relative. “I wish I could say something.”
“Yeah, I wish someone could say something, too. My uncle, he got away with it. My word against his. I was an unreliable witness, some shit like that. So I’ve lived with it. My whole damned life I’ve lived with it.”
“What happened to him in the end?”
Trent glanced around at him. “I could tell you the truth. But you probably won’t like me a whole lot more.”
Jack hesitated a few seconds, before nodding. “Try me.”
Trent sighed. “First thing I did when the power went out? I hunted that bastard down. I went round to his geriatric ass house, and I beat the shit out of him. And I kept on going, you know? I kept on going while he wailed at me to stop. Kept on going ’til every damn one of his teeth fell out his bloody mouth. And then I went some more, kicked in his ribs, just for the hell of it. I dunno whether I killed him or not. Hard to figure he survived in the end. But y’know how it made me feel, Jack?”
Jack felt sick, but he understood Trent’s anger. “A whole lot better, I imagine.”
“Like shit,” Trent said. “Because… because I ain’t the monster my uncle was. And I ain’t the monster Martin is, either. That’s why I had to leave his group. That’s why I had to get away.”
Jack heard Trent’s words, and he found himself sympathising with him even more. And he realised something, as he walked through the streets of Ulverston now. Footsteps echoing through the silence.
His rifle.
He’d lowered it.
Trent was just walking with them, a free man for the first time.
“I’m sorry for what Martin did to your people,” Trent said. “But you’ve gotta believe me when I tell you I wasn’t no part of that. I didn’t pull the trigger. I… I wish I coulda stopped it. But we all make mistakes. I just hope I wasn’t too damned late to realise it.”
Jack heard Trent’s words, and he knew what he felt. After all, hadn’t he made mistakes, too? Hadn’t he done things he wasn’t proud of? Things he’d do differently were he to get another chance?
He kept that rifle lowered, and he kept on walking through this town.
“We’ll all be judged, one way or another,” Jack said. “We just do what we do to get by.”
Trent looked around at him.
Smiled.
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else.
Then he stopped.
His face dropped.
Jack didn’t know what he was looking at. Not at first.
Not until he looked over his shoulder and saw them approaching.
His stomach sank.
Martin’s group was here.
They had their rifles lifted.
And they were surrounding Jack’s people.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jack pointed his rifle towards Martin as his group surrounded him.
The mid-afternoon sun suddenly seemed to lose its light in the empty streets of Ulverston. All around, Jack could hear movement. Wherever he looked, he saw more people emerging. Some of them holding guns. Some holding knives. Some of them it wasn’t even clear what they were holding at all, but their numbers did enough to fill
Jack with fear.
And it was the person Martin had a rifle to the back of that really frightened him.
Iain.
The kids trailing by Iain’s side.
Jack stood there, rifle raised. Pete stood by his side. Trent was beside them too, as was Emma, Bella, Candice, Susan, Hazel. All of them stood there. All of them held their ground. All of them forced together as Martin’s forces closed in.
Jack kept his rifle pointed at Martin’s approaching group. He wanted to pull that trigger. Wanted to fire.
But all he could do was stand there. He didn’t want to put Iain or the kids in any danger, and Martin knew that.
That’s why he was leading the way so comfortably.
So at ease.
Jack looked at Trent, then. Saw the concern in his darting eyes.
He glanced at Jack. Narrowed his eyes like Jack’s gaze said it all.
“I didn’t know about this.”
“Shut up,” Jack said.
“Man, I swear. I didn’t—”
“It doesn’t matter right now,” Candice said. “None of it matters now. Just… this.”
Jack gritted his teeth and turned back as Martin approached. That smile still etched across his face like he’d enjoyed this whole pursuit.
He stopped about ten metres away from Jack and his people. Flanked by four others, two either side. A couple each side of Jack and his people from the streets beside the buildings. And four more behind them.
“Well, well,” Martin said. “I told you we’d cross paths again. Told you we’d run into one another. Lo and behold, here we are.”
He glanced at Trent. Smiled.
“How you doing, Trent?”
Trent shook his head. “Don’t even look at me, man. Don’t… don’t even dare try anything.”
Martin disregarded Trent and looked back at Jack. “Now, this doesn’t have to be complex. All we’re after here is a trade. A simple trade. Trent, for your friend Iain here. How’s that sound?”
Jack stood his ground. Iain looked still, like he wasn’t struggling anymore. Wasn’t resisting.
And then there was Shania.
Where was she?
“Iain’s wife,” Jack said. “What did you do to her?”
Martin frowned. “Wife? Hell, I don’t think I saw a wife, do you lot?”
“He killed her,” Trent spat. “Murdered her. Didn’t have to. But he did.”
“Oh, don’t act like you weren’t in on it,” Martin said. “You were right there. You could’ve done something about it. Could’ve stopped it. But you didn’t. You let it happen. Just as culpable if you ask me.”
Jack looked around at Trent. Saw his bloodshot eyes staring back at him. “Jack, I—”
“A simple trade,” Martin said. “Iain for Trent.”
“And then what?”
Martin frowned. “Huh?”
“We hand Trent over. And then what? We just move on like normal?”
Jack saw it, then. The look on Martin’s face. The evil in his eyes. The way he was enjoying this way too much.
And he knew Martin knew he saw the truth, too.
“What do you really want, Martin?” Jack asked. “Really?”
Martin sighed.
He lowered his rifle, just for a moment.
Nodded at the two people beside him.
Then yanked the sack from Iain’s head.
And right on cue, they yanked the sacks from the kids’ heads.
Iain looked back at him. Stared vacantly, right into his eyes.
So too did Harry.
So too did Lara.
But there was something about these three.
Something… distant about them.
Something… disconnected.
It was only then that Jack saw it.
Their eyes were missing.
They had holes right in the middle of their skulls.
They were dead.
Iain dropped to the snow, his kids alongside him. A little blood trickled out of their bodies, staining the icy white snow.
Martin stepped around the bodies. Rifle pointed. “You’re right,” he said. “It wouldn’t seem a fair trade. But a dead man for a dead man? That’s what’d be, when push comes to shove.”
Jack watched Martin approach. He couldn’t stop himself shaking. He wanted to vomit. Wanted to throw up. Iain. He was a good person. A good man. He’d just wanted what was best for his family. And now here he was. Here the kids were. Dead. Dead and brutalised in the most horrible fashion by this tyrant standing before him.
“What do we want?” Martin asked. “We want to get to Barrow. We want to get to this new home of ours. But we have some… well. Some scores to settle before we do.”
Jack understood it clearly, then. Martin wanted to clean up his mess. He didn’t want to risk Jack and his group opening up about what he’d done, risking his place at wherever they were heading to.
He wanted to hold his ground.
To kill Martin and his people, right here.
But then he thought of Trent.
Trent was one of Martin’s people not long ago.
And he seemed like a good guy. A troubled guy, but a good guy underneath.
Would he really want to condemn the rest of these people to death without knowing them?
He looked around at the rest of Martin’s people. Tried to look at each and every one of them. And then he said the words that were so hard to say. The words he wasn’t even sure he believed. “This place we’re going. It’s… it’s somewhere good. Somewhere we can start again. We can put this aside. Forget conflict. Start from scratch. This doesn’t have to end in death.”
Some of them glanced at one another. Some spoke to each other. Like they were interested. Like they could be swayed.
Martin stayed there, rifle still raised. “On your knees. Every one of you.”
But Jack stayed standing. Everyone stayed standing. “You don’t have to choose this path. You can do something different. Something better. Is this what you want to remember about your time in this world? Is this the last thing you want on your conscience? Or do you want something different?”
More of Martin’s people lowered their weapons. They muttered to each other. Looked at Trent, like he was an example, like he was proof.
“He’s speaking the truth,” Trent said.
More people looked around at him.
Trent held his breath. Shook a little, then spoke. “His people. They’re good people. They… they’ve done shit, like us, sure. But they still have their moral compass. That’s what we lost somewhere along the way. ’Cause of this man.” He pointed right at Martin. “But it doesn’t have to be that way. Not anymore.”
Jack’s heart pounded. The tension grew. It felt like things were turning. Like hope was lifting.
And Martin saw it too.
The way he looked around.
The way his smile had been wiped from his face.
The sheer uncertainty on display.
It said it all.
“So lay down your weapons,” Trent said. “Join us. Let’s go find a new home. Let’s go start again. Let’s… let’s work together. All of us. Because that’s what binds us, right? Not conflict. But togetherness.”
Jack looked around at Martin’s people again. Saw the uncertainty among some of them. The hesitation. And for a moment, he didn’t think it was going to work. He didn’t think he was going to get through.
And then something remarkable happened.
One of Martin’s people dropped their guns.
Started walking towards Jack’s group.
And then another followed.
And another.
And then a couple more…
Jack looked at Hazel, and a smile rose on his face.
He looked back as more of Martin’s people lowered their weapons, their uncertainty taking over.
He looked as the tables turned, and he kept his rifle focused on Martin.
“Looks like you�
�ve lost this one.”
Martin’s eyes glazed over. Tears welled in them, bloodshot. He bit his lip. Opened his mouth. Tried to say something.
And then he let out a sigh and smiled.
“No, Jack,” he said. “I think you’ll find it’s you who’s lost here.”
Jack held his rifle. Didn’t know what Martin meant. Not at first.
And then it all happened in a flash.
Martin lifted his rifle.
Pointed it towards his people.
And he pulled the trigger.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jack heard the blast of Martin’s rifle, and time stood still.
He didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to look to his side. There was no denying what he’d just witnessed; no denying what was happening. Martin had fired. At who? He didn’t know.
But all kinds of images ploughed through Jack’s mind.
All kinds of possibilities spiralled around his head.
He didn’t want to look.
He didn’t want to see.
But he had to.
He turned around to his left as the gunshots echoed around, and he saw Bella holding her chest.
She looked back at Jack. Eyes wide. Face pale. Her hands were shaking, and not from the cold, either. Blood oozed between her fingers. Everyone looked on in shock. Even some of Martin’s people stared at her as she stood there, bleeding more and more. The ones who’d given up their allegiance to him stood between him and Jack’s people, unable to say a word.
And Martin just stood there, anger in his bloodshot eyes. Rifle in his shaky hand.
Jack couldn’t even think anymore.
He lifted his rifle, and he fired at Martin.
Martin backed away. Fired a few more shots towards him. Jack felt bullets crashing against the ground by his side. He saw them nicking at his heels, so close to hitting him, so close to hitting Villain.
But he just had to hold Martin off.
And then he had to get to Bella. He had to help her. He couldn’t let her die.
He lifted his rifle back towards Martin, and he saw something else.
The people who’d been defecting from Martin. They had their weapons raised, now.
But they weren’t pointing them at Jack’s people. They were pointing them at Martin’s. Their old companions.
