by Seth Rain
Mick led the way to the pub, followed by Scott and Dawn. They packed the few things they’d salvaged from the houses and shops in the village, then loaded the 4x4. Mick closed the pub door behind them and hammered in nails to block up the door.
‘It might be pointless. But it makes me feel better all the same,’ Mick said, and threw the hammer into the back of the vehicle.
As they left the village, Scott checked in the rear-view mirror. Smoke rose above the trees surrounding the village square.
‘Head towards Keswick,’ Mick said. ‘We’ll find our way onto the motorway near Penrith and head north.’
The roads, as Scott expected, were clear enough. They drove for an hour through lanes then found an A road towards Keswick, which was blocked by three self-drivers. When the Rapture had happened, the self-drivers had detected the death of their passengers and then pulled over to the side of the road. Each was parked neatly, waiting to be reactivated.
‘We can move them,’ Mick said. ‘There’s only three.’
Scott nudged the front of the 4x4 against the first car and pressed the accelerator to shift it.
‘Wait,’ Dawn said and got out.
‘Dawn!’ Scott said, following her. ‘It’s not safe.’
Dawn stood outside one of the cars and peered in. A woman sat in the front seat, leaning on the headrest, as though she was only sleeping. Next to her was a young boy, slumped forward, the seatbelt preventing him from falling forward completely.
‘He must only be five or six,’ Scott said, staring at the boy.
‘Where were they going?’ Mick asked. ‘That’s what I don’t understand. Everyone knew it was coming. Where were they going?’
Scott shook his head. ‘Some didn’t believe it would happen.’
‘Their bodies,’ Mick said, his voice sombre, ‘they’re the same as the day it happened. How is it possible?’
‘It must have something to do with the way Mathew did it … something connected to the colour of their eyes.’
‘Violet?’ Dawn asked.
Scott nodded.
They stopped twice more to move cars to clear their way, and it was night by the time they reached the motorway at Penrith. With no lights on the side of the motorway, they had to drive slowly. On some stretches the whole motorway was clear and the cats’ eyes in the tarmac shone back at Scott, a runway showing him their route northwards. It was when Scott ventured out onto motorways and travelled longer distances that he was reminded of how alone he was. Nearly everyone was dead. No electricity meant much of the country was hidden in darkness. But it was all there – every village and town and city, every house, hospital and airport, filled with the dead lying on the ground or naked in their beds.
Dawn was asleep on the back seat, and Mick, a rifle beside him, appeared to be struggling to keep his eyes open. Scott was also tired and thought about stopping.
‘Look,’ Mick said, pointing through the windscreen. ‘A light.’
Dawn woke and sat up. Scott leaned closer to where Mick was pointing. With no other lights anywhere, the white fusion light shone like a beacon.
‘Slow down,’ Mick said. ‘Switch off the headlights. Pull over.’
Scott did as he asked. The cats’ eyes vanished and he stopped.
Mick got out and jogged up the steep verge beside the motorway, standing on tiptoe, straining to see what was producing the light.
Scott and Dawn followed him.
‘I can’t see anything,’ Scott said.
‘It was there. I saw it.’
They waited.
Dawn looked up at the stars. Scott followed her line of sight; in the darkness there were thousands of them.
‘What do we do?’ Scott asked.
‘Let’s go,’ Mick said. ‘We should keep going.’
Scott walked back down the hill, followed by Dawn. He opened the door and looked back at Mick who was still on the hill, scanning the horizon.
‘Get in,’ Scott said to Dawn. ‘It’s cold.’
Scott was about to speak when he saw Mick flinch and stagger backwards. And then a bang, the sound of a gunshot echoing. Scott ran towards Mick, who fell forward and rolled down the hill towards Scott.
‘Mick!’ Scott said, holding him. Blood swelled up and across his chest.
‘Dawn,’ Mick whispered.
Scott turned his head and saw Dawn standing in the middle of the motorway.
‘Dawn!’ Scott shouted, pointing to the 4x4. ‘Get in!’
Scott grabbed Mick’s rifle and swept it across the black horizon. He peered through the darkness but saw no one.
‘My date,’ Mick said, choking. ‘A Watcher.’
Scott dropped the rifle and leaned over Mick. ‘You knew it was today?’
Mick shook his head and tried to smile. ‘Told you. I’m glad I didn’t know.’
Scott searched for the Watcher again. No sign. As ever, determinism came to his mind – the idea that neither he nor Mick had chosen to be on that spot at that time; that they were merely following a set order of events. The Watcher would have waited for them. With Scott’s help, Mick had walked straight into the trap.
When Scott looked back at Mick, his eyes were closed. He was dead.
Scott took a step down the bank … then froze. It was the Watcher. Standing behind Dawn. Scott raised his rifle. Dawn spun around to see who he was aiming at.
The Watcher, a revolver in his hand by his side, didn’t move.
Scott walked down the bank and onto the motorway, his rifle aimed at the Watcher.
‘Coward!’ Scott shouted.
The Watcher’s long grey coat flapped in the breeze, his gun aimed at Dawn. ‘It was his time,’ he said. ‘Is he dead?’
‘You shot him in the chest,’ Scott said. ‘I should shoot you in the chest and see if you live through it.’
‘It’s not my time,’ the Watcher said. ‘You’re not going to shoot me. Besides. I’m not alone.’ He turned and glanced behind. Scott couldn’t see anyone through the darkness.
The Watcher turned back, his expression sympathetic, twisted with the pain Scott himself experienced. ‘It’s a gift, not a punishment.’
Scott shook his head slowly, forced to listen to the same nonsense over and over again.
The Watcher walked away.
‘Stop!’ Scott walked towards the Watcher, the rifle pointed at his back.
The Watcher stopped and stared at the rifle.
Scott’s hands shook. Taking someone’s life had to be done quickly, with no time to think.
The Watcher waited before saying, ‘You’re not going to shoot me.’
Scott looked out into the darkness. He knew someone was there. He thought about Dawn’s date then lowered the rifle, finally letting go and dropping it onto the tarmac. He expected to see a smug expression on the Watcher’s face, but that’s not what he saw. Instead, the Watcher looked sorry for him, his shoulders slumped in sympathy.
Ten
They left the motorway and drove along a lane, arriving at a small village, on the outskirts of which they found a small cottage. Scott pulled into the drive beside the house and turned off the engine and lights. They waited in the 4x4 and opened the windows, listening for signs of other people. It was silent.
The back door was open but there was no sign that anyone had been there for some time – maybe since the Rapture. The moment he walked into the cottage, he recognised the possibility that there were bodies upstairs. It was an understanding he couldn’t describe, deduced from the way everything was so tidy, how the curtains were closed, how the shoes by the door had been lined up side by side.
‘Wait here,’ he told Dawn. ‘I mean it. Wait here. There’s no need for you to see it.’
Dawn waited in the kitchen.
Scott stood at the bottom of the stairs. He thought by now he’d be used to seeing them. He held the banister and took the steps one at a time.
Just like the couple he had found with Mick in the village, they were naked
on the bed, holding one another. At the foot of the bed were bags, packed and ready.
He took several blankets from the wardrobe and covered the bodies.
Downstairs, he showed Dawn to the living room.
Scott took Mick’s body from the 4x4 and carried him over his shoulder to behind the cottage. The garden was overgrown but there was a large patio, upon which he laid Mick. He collected as much timber as he could, along with a can of diesel from the 4x4.
He asked Dawn to join him outside. He thought about saying a few words, but he’d not known Mick for long and the idea of saying something struck him as presumptuous. Instead, he bowed his head and nodded.
‘It was our fault,’ Dawn said. ‘He died because he came with us.’
‘He didn’t have to come. He wanted to.’ It sounded colder than he intended.
‘He was a good man,’ she said. ‘That’s why.’
‘He was.’
Scott used a match to light the balls of paper and bits of rag he’d doused in diesel. The flames worked quickly, covering the timber and then Mick’s body.
They watched the fire for a while before going inside.
Dawn had made up beds in the living room for them. She handed Scott a bottle of water.
‘How many are there?’ Dawn asked. ‘Upstairs.’
‘Two. A man and woman.’
Dawn lay on the settee she’d made up as a bed, now and then glancing at the ceiling.
Scott drank the water and sat on the other settee.
‘Do you think he knew?’ Dawn asked.
‘What?’
‘Mick. His date.’
Scott finished the bottle of water. ‘He said not.’
‘I think he did,’ Dawn said. ‘I think he knew.’
Scott looked at his date then closed his eyes. ‘Maybe.’
‘Are we getting used to it?’ Dawn asked.
Scott knew what she meant. ‘Death?’
‘I think we are,’ Dawn said. ‘It’s everywhere.’
‘There was a time it wasn’t,’ he said. ‘It happened – death. But now … now it’s everywhere and it doesn’t mean the same thing.’
Dawn sat up straight. ‘I want to know my date,’ she said. ‘You know yours, Mick must have known his. My mother…’
Scott stared at the window and saw the orange flickering of the fire. ‘I’m tired,’ he said.
‘I should know,’ she said. ‘I have the right to know.’
‘Why?’ Scott snapped. ‘Why do you want to know?’
‘I just do. I can live with it. Like you can.’
‘I don’t want to live with it.’
She folded her arms. ‘And what if something happens to you?’
Scott didn’t know what to say.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her face softening. ‘But what if something happens to you? Then I’ll never know. And I’ll always be guessing.’
Scott rubbed the back of his neck and stretched his back. ‘I don’t know what year mine is,’ he said. ‘It’s different.’
‘Don’t you want to know?’
He shook his head. ‘You’re stubborn, you know that?’
‘It’s my date.’
Scott stood and walked to the large window to peer out at the garden and the pyre. He could lie about the year, make her think she had a lifetime ahead of her. But a lifetime of what? He was fighting against something all the time, but when he stopped to think about why, he couldn’t articulate what it was exactly. Dawn was different – she had hope, defiance, a fierceness that grew more prominent each day.
‘Could your date be wrong?’ Dawn asked.
‘No,’ he said.
‘My mum … said she’d heard things about you. That you tried to stop them releasing the dates. That you tried to—’
‘People say a lot of things,’ he said.
‘So you didn’t shoot yourself to prove the dates wrong?’
He winced. It sounded even crazier listening to someone else say it. ‘I thought it would prove the AI was wrong.’
‘And it wasn’t?’
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
She looked at his hand and his date. ‘And you thought you’d die along with everyone else? On the day of the Rapture?’
He shrugged, remembering that day. It still felt unreal, dreamlike. He wasn’t scared it would happen because it was too much to comprehend. Maybe that’s why virtually everyone carried on as normal, incapable of believing such a thing.
‘Were you alone?’ she asked.
‘Now you’ve started talking, you’re not going to stop, are you?’
She lay on the settee, her hands resting on her stomach and the baby.
‘No,’ Scott said. ‘I wasn’t alone.’
Outside the fire crackled and spat.
‘And you waited the whole day for it to happen to you?’
‘Something like that.’
‘That’s horrible,’ she said.
Scott stared at the ceiling.
After a few minutes, she said, ‘Could it be wrong? My date?’
‘No.’ Scott wiped his mouth. ‘Don’t start thinking like that.’
‘You believed the AI could be wrong once.’
‘I was wrong.’
Dawn turned her back to him.
Scott stretched his feet out and stared at Dawn. He couldn’t remember ever feeling the hope or belief he saw in Dawn. Even after everything she’d been through, still there was something about her that was defiant. And it was powerful.
He closed his eyes.
Eleven
Scott hadn’t held a revolver since he’d turned one on himself.
‘They won’t be expecting this,’ Noah said. ‘When they see you, they have to believe you’re willing to do it.’
‘But they know their dates,’ Scott said. ‘They know I can’t kill them if it’s not their time.’
‘That won’t matter. The threat will be enough. But you have to mean it or they’ll see through you.’
Noah was clearly still angry with him, not ready to look him in the eye.
Across the street, parked in a self-driver, Freya waited for them.
‘You ready?’ Noah asked.
Scott wrapped his hand around the handle of the gun and threaded his finger across the trigger. Feeling its weight reminded him of the gun’s purpose. A coldness crept across his shoulders and the back of his head tingled. His hand trembled.
‘Scott?’ Noah asked. ‘You ready?’
‘Yes,’ Scott said, as if waking from a dream.
‘You came to me for help,’ Noah said. ‘Remember?’ For the first time, Noah held Scott’s stare.
‘I’m ready,’ Scott said firmly.
Noah sneered, and focused his attention first on his revolver, then on the street around the corner of the wall. ‘You sure you can do this?’
‘Just tell me when,’ Scott snapped.
Noah edged closer to the corner, stooped over, ready, a revolver in each hand.
Scott waited behind him, his eyes on the self-driver across the street where Freya was waiting. All he wanted was to be somewhere safe, with her, far from London, away from Mathew and talk of the Rapture. It was all people talked about, and no doubt thought about. There were those who’d made peace with what was happening, and even welcomed it. But there were more and more who challenged the dates Mathew had issued. He and his Watchers dealt with small pockets of dissenters who disappeared as quickly as they reared their heads. Where they took them was a mystery, and the fear of spending the rest of their days in a state of unconsciousness was enough to quieten most dissenters. Scott couldn’t be caught, and he couldn’t let Freya be caught. Whatever the cost.
‘It’s here,’ Noah whispered, glancing behind at Scott.
Scott’s body tightened, his legs straightening, his muscles flexing, coiled and ready.
Noah raised his gun, telling Scott to wait.
In a burst of motion, Noah was out on the street, his revolvers firing on
ce, twice and a third time. There was screaming. The few people on the street ran. From the left, a drone dipped and headed towards Noah’s position. Scott closed his eyes and told his legs to move. He stumbled out of the alleyway and fired on the drone, two, three times before it jerked to the left, collided with the building and dropped to the ground with a crash. Noah fired on it again and it lay still on the ground.
The self-driver’s tyres were blown and the bonnet was smoking. Noah’s revolvers pointed at the two Watchers inside, who raised their hands.
‘Hurry!’ Noah shouted at Scott.
Scott’s head swirled. He tried to recall the plan.
‘Scott!’ Noah shouted. ‘Juliet!’
Before he had time to think about it, Scott was trying to open the back door of the self-driver. It was locked.
‘It’s locked!’ Scott shouted.
Noah scanned the sky for more drones.
‘Hurry!’ Noah said again, taking a step closer to the vehicle, his revolvers trained on the Watchers.
Scott tried the door again but couldn’t open it. Freya tried the door but still it wouldn’t open.
‘Move back!’ Scott shouted to Juliet through the closed window. He raised his revolver, aiming at the space between Juliet and the Watchers, and shot out the glass. The noise deafened him, and for a moment, he lost all sense of direction and time. He wiped his face and saw blood on his hands. Juliet was reaching for his hands, attempting to climb through the window. He helped to pull her out until finally she was on the ground beside him. Scott helped her stand and ushered her across the street to Freya and the self-driver. To the right, at the end of the street, two drones were banking, their sensors scanning the street.
‘Noah!’ Scott shouted. ‘We need to go.’
Scott helped Juliet into the self-driver and then looked for Noah.
‘Noah! The drones…’
Scott raised his revolver to the drones and closed one eye. There was no way he’d have time to shoot both of them before they fired on him.
‘Get in,’ Freya said urgently to Scott, pulling the self-driver up beside him.
Noah opened the car door, his revolvers still aimed at the Watchers in the smoking self-driver. Scott opened the door and fell into the seat next to Freya.
