by Seth Rain
The Dead Horizon
Humanity Series - Book Two
Seth Rain
Copyright © 2020 by Seth Rain
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Published by Human Fiction
ISBN 978-1-9162775-1-9
Copy Editing: Jane Hammett
Proofreading: Johanna Robinson
Cover Design: Damonza
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A Brief Note
I have used British English spelling throughout this series of books. Not only am I a Brit, but this story is set in Britain, and so it seems only right to use British English spelling. I hope this does not detract from your enjoyment.
Seth.
For Eve
“History is not progress or decline, but recurring gain and loss. The advance of knowledge deludes us into thinking we are different from other animals, but our history shows that we are not.”
Taken from Straw Dogs (2002) by John Gray
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
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The Dead Horizon
One
Scott laid the girl beside the other dead bodies.
The sun had moved from behind the hill, dark red through the valley to the west. The first January stars were out, specks of salt on a dark blue sky.
He placed the girl’s soft toy, a pink elephant, beside her.
There was no sign on the faces of the dead that told why or how it had happened. No wound, no blood, no illness was apparent on their face or body. Each person he’d found looked as if they were in a deep sleep and nothing more. He knew what should happen to dead bodies but none of this was evident in what he saw. Within hours, the dead should already show signs of decomposition, within weeks, their organs, muscle and skin liquefied. And now, having been seven months since the Rapture, what remained should be little more than a skeleton. But this wasn’t what he saw and he didn’t understand why.
The Rapture had come and gone, and in its wake was a stillness.
Each body he found was cold, their skin almost translucent, and in those whose eyes remained open, he saw faint traces of violet colouring he couldn’t explain. Scott had seen first-hand Mathew wield the power he had over humanity. With the help of the AI, in some way Scott did not yet grasp, Mathew had activated the Rapture. Whatever was inside people that killed them was also in some way preserving their bodies after death.
Scott took the lighter from his pocket and stooped to ignite the balls of paper tucked beneath the stacks of wooden pallets, upon which he’d laid out three bodies: a woman and her two children. The paper, doused in petrol, caught light quickly and the gentle whoosh of flames spread through the base of the pyre.
Hassness House, white through the smoke, stood tall and wide yet insignificant against the mountains behind. Scott walked towards the lake and out onto the pier, where he stood looking across the water, his back to the fire. By the side of the lake, sheep that had been left to their own devices drank the water. Two ducks landed, skidding across its surface, coming to a halt with a gentle splash.
There was no getting used to the sound or smell of burning bodies. He bowed his head. He didn’t pray; after everything, that would have been wrong. Instead, he thought about Freya and Rebecca; at least they hadn’t had to live through what he had. He thanked someone or something for that.
The pyres, no matter how safe he thought he’d made them, no matter how far away from anything that might catch fire he placed them, always reached a point that scared him. The fire grew fierce; he followed the sparks rise and fall as grey embers glowing at the edges, some reaching the lake, hissing as they touched the water.
He waited for the sun to disappear behind the mountains completely before making his way past the pyre and into the house. The fire had died down enough for him to relax and trust it to burn itself out. They were the last bodies from the house. He was finally alone.
Inside the large hallway, he lit a candle inside a glass jar and carried it up the narrow, steep staircase. He walked past several rooms, some that were still made up for visitors and some that had housed the bodies he’d taken outside and burned. He placed the candle on the table in his room then checked on the pyre through a window. Because of a faint breeze, the fire leaned away from the lake and towards the house. The bodies were no longer distinguishable. The girl’s pink elephant had fallen and was lying on the ground in the sand he’d used to encircle the fire.
Something caught his eye in the valley at the far end of the lake. Movement. Scott leaned closer to the window, pushing the curtains aside. Two figures, walking towards the house. He’d not seen anyone for months – certainly not during the time he’d been in the Lake District. He took a step backwards and blew out the candle. His hand, and on it his date, shone in the twilight. Couldn’t be Watchers – he had another three months. He reached beneath the bed and pulled out a wooden crate, lifted the lid, then stood to check outside again. The figures were still heading towards him. He rummaged in the crate filled with weapons and ammunition and took out a revolver. After checking it was loaded, he pushed it into his coat pocket.
Outside, the figures were hidden behind a row of trees. The burning pyre had given him away.
Moving to a room at the far end of the house, he looked through the window. He could leave now, but he’d be leaving behind guns and ammunition, not to mention the food and water he’d collected and stored in the cellar beneath the house. He took the revolver from his coat pocket and checked it again. The sun had disappeared. Only the fire outside gave him any light by which to see the figures approaching. The smoke from the pyre swirled upwards, blocking a clear view across the lake.
A figure moved along the path. A young woman. Followed by what appea
red to be an older woman holding a child. The older woman stumbled, using one hand to rest against the stone wall beside her. Scott closed his eyes and tried to think. Maybe they’d keep walking, not stop at the house.
He made his way down the stairs and out the front door, all the time hiding.
The heat from the fire was intense.
He stood behind a wall to one side of the front door.
The woman reappeared beside the fire, a child in her arms, its legs dangling over her stomach. From the way they moved and glanced at one another now and then, he guessed the young woman beside her was her daughter. The younger woman wore a huge coat, far too big for her, making it appear as though she had no hands.
‘Hello?’ the older woman shouted.
Scott moved further behind the wall.
The woman gazed all around then stared at the fire; she pulled the child in her arms higher up on her chest.
‘Hello?’ she shouted again, her voice breaking.
Scott shook his head and walked towards the women. ‘Can I help you?’
The woman flinched and held the child in her arms more tightly. ‘Please help us,’ she said.
‘Are you being followed?’ Scott asked.
‘I don’t think … I don’t know.’ She stumbled, and the younger woman put out a hand to steady her. She stared at Scott, unsure, keeping several steps away from him.
‘Where have you come from?’ Scott asked the mother.
‘We’ve been searching for help for weeks,’ the woman said.
Scott opened the front door and helped her inside. The young woman stood in the doorway, her expression disapproving.
‘Dawn,’ the mother said. ‘It’s okay.’
Dawn turned and watched the pyre burn.
‘She’ll be fine,’ the woman said. ‘Leave her. She’s stubborn.’
Scott helped the woman to a settee in the living room. She sat and held the child so it could feed.
‘Do you need anything?’ he asked, turning away from her. ‘Water? Food?’
‘Yes,’ she said, sounding as though she might cry. ‘Yes. Please.’
Scott walked quickly to the kitchen, took the revolver from his pocket and placed it in a drawer. From the cold-room he took bread and jam. He poured a jug of water and took the things on a tray back to the living room. He placed the tray on the table between the two settees and poured a glass of water. The woman took a few sips then threw back what remained. She placed the glass on the table and held the child against her chest, then leaned the back of her head against the settee.
‘What are you doing here?’ Scott asked. The abruptness of his own words and voice surprised him.
The woman lifted her head, tears in her eyes. She took the child from her breast, covered herself and showed the baby to Scott. It was pale and sickly, its eyes barely open.
‘I wish I’d not survived the Rapture,’ she said. ‘I wish He’d taken us then.’
Scott had not spoken to anyone about the Rapture since the day it had happened.
‘His date,’ the woman said, looking down at the child in her arms. ‘It’s tomorrow.’
Scott sat on the settee, motionless.
‘Mine too,’ she said. ‘I can’t bear it any longer.’
There was no getting used to having a date – it was always there, waiting – Scott understood that. But he’d learned to live with it. The thought of having a child with a date, though, struck him as impossible to live with. He felt the woman’s pain and saw in the way she held the boy close to her chest, a denial that came at a price – one that meant she had to work tirelessly to not give in to it.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
The woman kissed the child’s head.
‘Watchers?’ Scott asked. ‘Are they following you?’
The woman glanced out of the window. ‘I think so. They must be.’
‘What about…’
The woman steeled herself. ‘My daughter?’ She lowered her voice and whispered, ‘Her date is in just over a month. Twenty-fourth of February.’ She leaned forward to check again that they were alone. ‘She doesn’t know.’
Again, Scott considered having a child with a date. Not only this, but a date after his own. It was cruel to think he’d have to leave behind a child to deal with their date alone.
‘You’re Scott?’ the woman asked. ‘Scott Beck?’
‘How do you know my—’
‘I’m Theresa, this is Nathanial, and outside is Dawn.’
‘Have we met?’ Scott asked.
‘No. But I know who you are. Everyone knows. You tried to stop Mathew. You’re the Chosen whose date is wrong.’
Scott didn’t know where to begin and could only shake his head.
‘Please,’ the woman said. ‘Will you keep her here with you?’
‘With me?’
‘She doesn’t know about the dates. And I can’t…’ She stopped, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I can’t have her with me when…’
‘Where are they? The Watchers?’
‘I don’t know. They appear now and then. It’s no use. I can’t hide from them. And look at him. He’s not well.’
Something about the child’s stillness meant Scott couldn’t look at him for long.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘I don’t want her to know. I can leave now, with Nathanial.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Fifteen. She need not know her date before they come for her. If there was another way…’
Scott looked around into the hall but there was still no sign of Dawn.
‘She’s a good child. Stubborn, a little surly, but she can look after herself. She’s strong.’
Scott sat forward in the chair. ‘Where will you go?’
Theresa peered through the window at the dark sky. ‘I don’t know. But I don’t want her with me when they come for us.’
The child flinched in her arms.
‘Please,’ Theresa said. ‘I can do this. I think. As long as I know Dawn is safe. For now.’
Scott watched the child sleeping. He nodded.
Theresa exhaled. ‘Thank you,’ she said in a broken voice.
Scott nodded again.
‘Your date,’ she said, nodding at his hand. ‘The date of the Rapture. It’s wrong isn’t it?’
‘My date is the same as the Rapture. But a different year.’
‘It’s wrong,’ she said. ‘I know it is. And it gives us hope.’
Scott stared at his hand. He didn’t believe her but didn’t know what to say.
‘There’s something else,’ she said. She lowered her voice. ‘Her date – Dawn’s date. It’s wrong too.’
Scott sighed, ready to tell her how many people had thought the same.
‘Do you know Juliet?’ she asked.
Scott couldn’t hide his surprise. ‘How do you know Juliet?’
‘I don’t. But I’ve been told you do.’
Scott shifted in his seat. ‘I haven’t seen or spoken to her since … since the Rapture.’
‘She’s gone north,’ the woman said. ‘Scotland. To one of the lochs. Do you know which one?’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘Everyone who’s left knows about Juliet. And about you and what happened with Mathew. Juliet can speak with the AI. Please, you must ask her about Dawn’s date. I know her date is wrong. I know it.’
Scott waited. He had come to the Lakes to be alone, to live in peace. There was no use fighting Mathew or the AI. He’d tried.
‘I’m sorry to have to ask this of you,’ she said, as if reading his mind. ‘But please. Will you help her?’
‘I don’t know whether Juliet can speak to the AI any longer.’
‘But will you try?’
Scott didn’t answer.
Theresa leaned forward and took the bread and jam. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Please. Take it.’
Theresa held the sandwiches close to her chest as she stood. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘Will you
look after her?’
Scott nodded. There was nothing else he could do. ‘You can stay here,’ he said. ‘Until you’re rested.’
The woman shook her head. ‘I will fall asleep. If I stop now, I won’t have the strength to leave.’
Scott stood with the woman.
‘I have more food and water,’ he said.
‘This will be plenty. Thank you.’
‘At least let me give you a blanket, a coat?’
They walked into the hallway and Scott opened a cupboard and offered them to her.
‘Thank you,’ she said, taking them. ‘You’re very kind.’
Theresa walked through the hall and out into the night air.
‘Dawn,’ she said. ‘I need to talk to you.’
Dawn appeared from behind the fire. Theresa leaned over and said something Scott couldn’t hear. Dawn nodded, now and then glancing at Scott. Theresa hugged her daughter, who stood motionless as her mother kissed her several more times.
‘I’ll be back soon,’ Theresa said to Scott.
He felt the need to play along. ‘We’ll see you soon.’
