by Casey, Ryan
She looked around. All of them did. Uncertain. Unsure.
And then Susan stepped forward onto the ice.
She looked back at Jack. Looked back at everyone. “Come on then. What are we waiting for?”
Jack followed her onto the ice, grateful for her backup. The rest of the group followed closely behind.
But the more he walked across this old pond, the more his uncertainty grew.
The water. It wasn’t as frozen as it once was.
It was cracking under every footstep.
“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’re going to have to hurry here,” Jack shouted.
Hazel tutted as she tried to hold on to a wriggling Mrs Fuzzles. “Doing our frigging best!”
He looked around then, as much as he didn’t want to look over his shoulder, as much as he didn’t want to see.
And when he looked back, he saw something.
People.
People on the edge of this icy lake.
Standing there. Eight. Nine. Ten of them.
All there. All totally still.
And all led by that one bulky man in the middle. The one from the road.
Jack lifted his rifle and went to fire.
But then something happened.
Hazel.
The ice under her feet cracked.
She tumbled down to the half-frozen water below.
Jack’s body tensed up. He threw himself back towards her. “Hazel!”
But it all happened so quickly.
She dragged herself out of that frozen water.
But her grip on Mrs Fuzzles loosened.
Mrs Fuzzles landed on the ice and jumped up.
She looked around. Let out a little squeal.
And then she turned around and bolted off into the darkness.
“Mrs Fuzzles!” Hazel shouted.
And as they stood there on the cracking ice, those people still standing at the edge of the lake, wordless, voiceless, all they could do was watch as Mrs Fuzzles disappeared into the darkness.
All they could do was watch as she vanished from their lives.
And they couldn’t do a thing about it.
Jack grabbed Hazel’s hand. Lifted her to her feet. Then he pointed his rifle at this group of people, the ice still cracking beneath their feet.
“What do you want?” he shouted.
He saw something.
That smile, again.
The smile on the face of the leader, illuminating in the bright moonlight.
And then something else happened.
The ice under his feet cracked even more.
He looked down. Saw it splitting all around him.
Around his people.
And then he looked back up at the people standing at the edge of the pond.
He wanted to stay here.
He wanted to stand his ground.
He wanted to fight.
But he didn’t have time.
None of them had time.
The ice cracked more underfoot.
He held his rifle. Pointed it at the group.
And then he shook his head.
“We need to go,” Jack shouted. “We need to get off this water. Now!”
He looked at that man. Watched his smile widen, just a little more.
And then he raced his way off the pond.
All of them raced their way off the pond as the ice cracked more and more.
They reached the other side. Landed on the hard, solid ground.
Jack looked over his shoulder, back into the darkness.
When he looked back, there was no sign of Mrs Fuzzles.
And there was no sign of the people, either.
They were gone.
“Come on,” Jack said, staring across the pond. “We… we need to get as far away from here as we can.”
Hazel shook her head, tears in her eyes. “But Mrs Fuzzles…”
Jack put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s too late. I’m sorry. It’s… it’s too late.”
And as they stood there by the side of the pond, staring into the murky darkness, Jack felt the bite of another loss sinking its teeth into them once again.
He swore he saw a figure still standing there, smile on his face…
Chapter Forty
Jack wasn’t sure how far they’d been walking when the sun began to rise.
There was no snow falling. No icy rain, either. Just a thick, grey fog blocking their vision wherever they looked. The air felt a little warmer, a little thicker on the inhale. It felt like another change in the weather that indicated an oncoming spring; a change in the seasons.
But if this was a sign of things to come in spring, Jack was pretty sure he’d take the cold of winter instead.
Mostly because of what’d happened last night.
He thought back to the small town he’d made his way through. Thought about the light in the distance. Thought about finding the three people dressed in black lying on the road, throats cut. He thought about the smashed torch.
And then he thought about the people.
His stomach turned. The group in the streets. Their smiling leader. The way they’d followed Jack’s group through that town. The way Jack and his people had no choice but to cross a pond.
And then Mrs Fuzzles…
Jack remembered watching her leap out of Hazel’s arms. He remembered her landing on the ice, scurrying away into the darkness.
He’d wanted to go back for her. He’d wanted to save her. As much as he struggled bonding with any cat, she was one of their group.
And she meant something to Hazel and Candice especially. The memory of Wayne. And to Jack, of Bella, too.
That whole group who’d walked towards the farm all those months ago.
Wayne.
Bella.
Mrs Fuzzles.
All gone.
He squinted through the thick fog. Kept on scanning his surroundings, looking for a sign of life. Looking for any indication that they were closer to the safe zone—or whatever the hell this place was.
But there was nothing but fog.
There was nothing but the road underneath their feet.
The buildings around them, barely visible.
And the silence.
The more Jack walked, the more he doubted everything from the last few days. The talk of the safe zone. Where had that started? He’d heard about a place in Barrow. A place with power. But what if they were just rumours? What if they were just people hoping, believing in stories because, quite frankly, they had to? People needed stories. They were the very essence of survival. Without stories, there was no hope.
And without hope… there was nothing at all.
But the more Jack walked aimlessly, the more his group travelled around him, the more he started to lose hope.
Because he knew they were on the edge of Barrow now, and there were still no signs of life.
They hadn’t seen any signs of helicopters. They hadn’t seen any signs of people. They hadn’t seen any signs of hope. Not for a long, long time.
He stopped in the middle of the street and tensed his fists.
He thought of Martin. He’d shot Bella. Gunned her down. An innocent person. One of their group. One of their family.
And there was Iain’s family, too. Good people. People just trying to get by in this world.
And then Jack thought about the fact that he might get away with it. The fact that he wouldn’t ever get to face him for what he’d taken from their group; for the innocent life he’d snuffed out, all for his personal gain.
He thought about it all, then he heard footsteps by his side.
When he looked around, he saw Candice.
She looked worn out. Exhausted. Everyone did.
But she looked at Jack through the thick fog, and she forced a half-smile.
Jack wanted to smile back.
He wanted to tell Candice to keep hope. To keep her faith. They were close. They were going to make this.
/> But he couldn’t.
Not anymore.
“What’s the point of this anymore?”
Candice frowned. Hazel was here now too, as was Bella and Susan. Trent walked a little further back, shadowed by Villain, something that berated Jack a little.
“What do you mean?” Candice asked.
Jack rubbed his hands through his greasy hair. “This. This walk. This journey. We’re… we’re as close to Barrow as we’re going to get. We made it here. But we have to face the truth. If there was a safe zone here, or if there were helicopters or frigging power here, we’d have found it by now. We need to face it. Barrow was a lie. Pete lied. The group in the woods I came across, they lied too. We’re better off just finding somewhere else. Finding a new home. Settling down. Starting again.”
Jack listened to the silence that followed. He looked at the faces of his people. They all stared at him, wordless, like they couldn’t believe what he was saying. But at the same time, like they understood him. Like they knew he was right.
“You’re giving up?” Emma said.
Jack looked at her. He wasn’t expecting her to be the one who spoke first. But she looked at him with such anger. Such madness. “I’m not giving up,” he said. “I’m just being rational—”
“We came all this way,” she said. “We—we lost our home. We lost Bella. We fought so hard for this. And you’re just going to give up now? All because you’re still afraid of outsiders?”
“Emma, I haven’t seen any trace of the helicopters, have you? I haven’t seen any trace of people around here. How about you? We need to face the facts. We’ve lost this time. But we can start again. We can rebuild. Just us.”
Emma shook her head. Kept on staring right into Jack’s eyes. “Remember what Bella told us? Right after the fight with Matthew’s people?”
Jack frowned. “What—”
“She told us she’d never lost her hope. Even when she was going through hell, she never lost her hope. She kept on going. Kept on fighting. And there were some days she didn’t think she was going to make it. There were some days when she didn’t think there was a point to anything. But she kept going. She kept fighting. And you’re just going to turn your back on that? You’re going to turn your back on her, even after everything?”
Jack stood totally still in the middle of the road. The silence was deafening. He wanted to argue with Emma. Wanted to tell her Bella’s confession was a nice anecdote, but it didn’t apply in the real world.
But he found himself feeling those words.
And he found himself hoping again.
He looked at his people. Looked at Emma, so strong, so determined. He looked at Hazel, no sign of Mrs Fuzzles in her arms.
And he looked at Trent, too.
The man who’d been on Martin’s side.
The man who’d turned his back on Martin.
The man who’d helped Jack and his people.
He looked at them all, and he took a deep breath.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re pretty much on Barrow’s doorstep. We might as well search the place.”
He saw a smile on Emma’s face.
He smiled back at her, just momentarily.
And then he turned around and walked further into the fog.
One final push.
Chapter Forty-One
Pete walked into the fog towards Barrow, but he couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching.
It was morning. He’d spent the whole night walking. Aimlessly, at first. Didn’t really have any direction in sight. Just wanted to walk. It was something he’d always done whenever he was struggling. Didn’t matter what time of day or night it was. Just get his shoes on, head out and walk for as long as it took to exorcise his demons.
He’d been walking a long time, now. And he wasn’t sure when he was going to stop.
The fog was thick. It surrounded him, everywhere he looked. It didn’t seem to be getting any thinner, either. The further he walked, the thicker it got. It took him back to a time when he’d gone climbing in the Lakes when he was a lad. Him and Jack, just the two of them. Often was just the two of them. They were best mates. Understood each other. So many identical interests. Had a knack of knowing what the other was thinking; always finished each other’s sentences, that kind of thing.
He often thought back to his youth, and how close to Jack he’d been. Especially in times like these. He remembered that day, up that hill, fog all around them, and Jack looking at him with fear and telling him they were going to die out there.
But Pete had just done what he’d always done back then. He’d pretended he wasn’t shitting himself. Pretended he had control of the situation, even though he didn’t know where the hell he was going or what the hell he was doing.
And then they’d found their way out of that fog, only for Pete to boast to everyone about how calm he’d reacted and how shit-scared Jack was.
That was just their friendship to a T. The banter between them. The competitiveness between them.
It was just a shame they’d ended up in love with the same woman.
Pete walked further through the fog and thought of Hazel. He’d never forget the first time she’d kissed him. He’d spent all his childhood in love with this girl. And then he’d watched Jack and her get together. In the early days, he thought it’d pass. He thought she’d realise just how much cooler Jack’s best mate was. Was he jealous? He didn’t like admitting it at the time, but sure. He was jealous.
And lo and behold, Hazel and Jack hadn’t split up. They’d moved in together. They’d got married. They’d had a kid, and then another kid.
And all that time while Pete told himself and everyone else he was a happy single man, courting envy with his bachelor lifestyle… he was lying. To himself, and to everyone.
He was a lonely man who’d had his heart broken.
And then the incident with India happened.
Pete remembered it. He remembered hearing the news. Going round to Jack and Hazel’s to see them. Jack being out. And Hazel needing someone to listen to her. Hazel falling into his arms.
And then one thing leading to another…
He’d been guilty about it, of course he had. And as much as he loved Hazel, he’d have called it off right there if that’s what seemed right. He didn’t manipulate Hazel while she was at her lowest. He hadn’t seized an opportunity, or any nonsense like Jack suggested.
It had happened very naturally. Slowly.
And it hadn’t been easy. Hazel was broken after what happened with India.
So Pete had done everything he could.
He’d been a friend to her.
He’d been a lover to her.
And then he’d been a husband to her.
And then the EMP struck, and everything changed.
He swallowed a lump in his throat. Remembered the day he’d been rescued by the helicopter. The way they’d brought him up north. Seen to his wounds.
And then sent him packing before he even had a chance to question whether any of it was real or not.
His only proof it was real?
The thick coat, the goggles, and the rifle.
And the food in his rucksack, long depleted.
He wasn’t lying when he said he’d been rescued. And he’d heard talks of Barrow, too. He wasn’t from there. He didn’t know what their game was. What their motives were.
He just knew they had helicopters.
And they were far more advanced than any other group he’d seen surviving in this country.
They had to be the ones who’d saved him.
The ones who’d helped him.
He walked further into the fog, and he thought about how Jack and Hazel left him. And he understood it. As hard as it was to swallow, he got it. Jack felt lied to. Hazel felt betrayed.
And in the time they’d spent apart… things had changed.
This world changed people. It corrupted people. It forced them outside of their comfort zones, into n
ew worlds.
And sometimes they found things out about themselves in those dangerous new worlds.
But he had no choice. No choice but to head towards that safe zone—or whatever it was. Whether Jack or Hazel wanted to see him or not, he wasn’t going to survive out here. There was nothing for him out here.
He had to go there.
He had to find whatever was there.
And then he had to—
Footsteps.
Footsteps right behind him.
He looked back.
Nothing but thick fog.
He squinted. Frowned. Tried to see movement in that fog as he held on to his rifle; a rifle he was merciful Jack had let him hold on to.
But he couldn’t see a thing there.
He turned around. Took a few more steps. Probably just a trick of his imagination. It was so silent. Chances were he’d hear a group coming from miles away in this solitude, and when he did, he’d have more than enough chance to hide in the snow.
He turned around to keep on moving when he saw someone up ahead.
He stopped dead. Froze.
A man stood in the middle of the road in front of him.
He was tall. Well built. Looked like he had dark hair. But it was hard to make out his face in this fog.
Only one feature was clear.
His wide smile.
Pete lifted his rifle. Pointed it at the man. “You got a problem there?”
The man didn’t budge. Stayed completely still. No weapons in hands. No movement or words whatsoever.
Pete took another step towards this man. He thought he saw more movement in the corners of his eyes. Heard footsteps crunching through the ice. “I asked you a question. You got a problem?”
The man’s smile widened. And at this distance, Pete saw something else. The man’s scarred, pot-marked skin.
And his deep, dark eyes.
“No,” the man said, his voice softer than Pete expected. “But you do.”
The hairs on Pete’s neck stood. “What…”
He heard movement behind him.
Tried to swing around.
But it was already too late.
A cloth against his mouth.
His vision blurring.
His grip on the rifle loosening.
And as he sank into the warmth of unconsciousness, he saw that man step up to him.
