by Ryan Casey
I blew a kiss at her.
Then I left the room and headed downstairs.
“ARE you going to be okay?”
Kerry’s words made me smile. I was standing outside my house—my house—with my bags packed. Today was the day I left, well and truly. Because of course that’s what Kerry meant when she said she was leaving me. “I’m leaving you” means “I’m not happy living in your house with you anymore, so you find somewhere else to live so I can keep this roof over our child’s head, thank you very much.”
I just shrugged. I couldn’t look Kerry in the eye anymore. “Guess I’ll have to be.”
Kerry couldn’t look me in the eye either. Olivia certainly didn’t have her mother’s hair or eyes. Kerry was strikingly blonde, with bright blue eyes. She had very pale skin too. I’d joked she was like an Albino Rabbit when we first met, mostly because she’d just got some chilli in her eyes in a singles cookery class we were both attending. We’d hit it off from there, and hadn’t really turned back.
What had gone so wrong?
“Where is it you’re heading?”
“Are you really that interested?”
Kerry sighed. “Will.”
I shook my head. “Sorry. It’s… Tay Forest Park in Scotland.”
“We went up that way once, right?”
“Over in that direction, yeah. It’s a pretty secluded place. Good place to research the new book.”
I heard my words and I saw straight through my own facade.
I knew from the way Kerry was looking at me, frowning, that she saw right through it too.
“Anyway,” I said.
“Right.”
“Better… better get off.”
I wasn’t sure whether to kiss Kerry goodbye. It felt so awkward. All these years together—eleven, in fact—and I felt like a bumbling fool around the woman I had a child with.
In the end, I just settled for a resigned half-smile, and Kerry the same.
I didn’t want to cause any trouble.
I never, ever wanted to cause any trouble.
“Maybe if you’d fought,” Kerry said, out of nowhere. “Things might’ve been…”
She trailed off. I didn’t know exactly what she was going to say. But that hurt. It hurt because I’d tried to accommodate her wills and wishes my entire adult life. I’d tried to compromise where I could, because I truly believed that compromise was a positive trait.
And here I was, making the ultimate compromise, leaving my home, my wife, my daughter, and still I wasn’t fighting.
I stopped when I reached the middle of the pathway. A pathway that already felt alien, unfamiliar.
I looked up.
In our bedroom window—my former bedroom—Olivia stood there. I lifted a hand and waved at her. I knew she’d be able to tell I looked upset.
But she just lifted her hand and waved too, a silent acceptance.
“We’re off to London in a few days.”
“London?” I said. “That’ll be nice. What’s Bouncer doing?”
“He’s going in kennels,” Kerry said, rubbing her arms.
“Kennels? Kerry, we never put him in kennels.”
“I know, Will. But there’s just no one who’ll take him. My mum’s away in Lanzagrotty. Sarah’s landlord went apeshit the last time she looked after him.”
“There’s me,” I mumbled.
I saw the look on Kerry’s face and knew I’d made her feel awkward. But I’d planted the idea, and I could tell she was considering it.
“I’m not sure if—”
“Come on, Kerry. I’m only going away for a week. I love that dog. And he’ll have way more fun up in Scotland than stuck in some kennels catching fleas. Isn’t that right, boy?”
When I called him, it didn’t take him long to reach the door, run down the pathway, and jump up at me, licking at me.
“Please,” I said. “You know how much I love him.”
Kerry tilted her head to one side. “I… I guess. As long as you…”
“Bring him back? Nah. I’ll dognap him. Hold you to ransom.”
A twinge of a half-smile flickered up Kerry’s mouth. “I’ll grab his food. There a shop up there?”
“Yeah. Pretty local. Five miles drive, not too far out.”
“He’s got enough food to last a few days.”
“If not, I’ll just head to the supermarket. There’s a village nearby.”
“Are you—”
“Kerry, it’ll be fine. And if he’s starving, he can go catch a squirrel or something.”
Bouncer tilted his head, the goofy bugger so pampered that even the suggestion of hunting his own food baffled him.
I looked back up at my house. Looked at the white paint I’d applied. Looked at the curtains I’d fitted. Looked at the door I’d replaced.
Then I looked back at Kerry.
“A week,” I said, turning away before my throat could tighten anymore, before the last shreds of dignity I had left faded away completely.
I walked to the car. Put Bouncer and his food inside, separated of course.
“I’ll have him back in a week,” I said.
Bouncer barked.
Kerry nodded. Then she lifted a hand and waved, before turning back into our house.
I honked my horn as I started up the engine and departed our road.
In my wing mirror, I saw the curtains twitch, and I knew Olivia was watching.
That was the last time I saw her.
CHAPTER THREE
I lay back and tried to sleep, but I knew sleep was far, far away.
Especially without some kind of sleep aid.
And we all know the best sleep aid when you’re going through a life crisis.
I listened to the sounds of the wind rattling against the foundations of the log cabin. The drive up here hadn’t been too bad at all. It took around four hours total. If anything, I felt at my strongest when I was driving. I felt in control. It was when I stopped and settled that things started eating away at me,
Really, I should’ve thought about that before coming to Tay Forest Park for a week. I should’ve just booked a driving trip.
Maybe in time, my thoughts would settle, and I’d be able to enjoy some peace and quiet in the middle of the wilderness.
Maybe.
I looked across the room, which smelled of fresh wood. It was pretty dark in here, so I’d kept a little lamp on at the opposite side of the room. It was open-plan, a tiny little place, basically a clichéd writers retreat. But it was nice. It was comfortable.
In the middle of the room, I saw Bouncer lying there, staring up at me, wagging his tail when I made eye contact with him.
“You okay, boy?” I asked.
He just stayed put, wagging his tail some more, completely still.
“Me too,” I said. “Me too.”
I rolled back over and closed my heavy eyes again. I was pretty hungry. I’d eaten some chicken I’d made with a Bushbox Outdoor Pocket Stove I bought a few years ago. It folded flat and was easy to carry around, but a little awkward to assemble. I was into my gadgets like that. Not sure whether it was my fascination with writing post-apocalyptic fiction that spurred that interest or not, but it was definitely a love of mine. I’d always been interested in survivalism, right from a young age. Sure, I wasn’t the best—I was totally shoddy and amateur, especially compared to those amazing preppers over in America. I had a basic bug-out bag with a few survival essentials, but I usually dipped into it for a plaster whenever I cut my finger, so I was hardly making the best use of it.
But hey. Fortunately the world wasn’t going to end. I didn’t have too much to worry about.
I turned over, struggling to get comfortable on the mattress. Not because it wasn’t comfy—it was. It just wasn’t my bed. I wanted to be back home, by Kerry’s side. I wanted to be able to get up in the middle of the night and walk over to Olivia’s room, and stand by her door listening to her soft breaths rising and falling. It was so quie
t without them in my life. I didn’t like it. Didn’t like it one bit.
But such was life.
A few days getting my head together would be beneficial. I didn’t plan on bumping into anyone until my supplies ran out and I had to take a trip to a store, probably in two or three days. But that was fine with me. I was an introvert by nature where people outside my family were concerned. Kerry said she worried about my lack of social interaction. I only really kept in touch with two friends, who I’d known since high school. But I was happy that way. I was fine that way.
It was just how I liked it.
I felt something tickle my fingers and when I looked around, I saw Bouncer beside me.
“Hello, chap,” I whispered. He breathed heavily, wagging his tail. I could tell he was eager to climb on the bed with me, something Kerry and I didn’t technically allow but that he got away with every now and then. “You want to get up here?”
He jumped up without any further prompting, licked my face with his doggy breath, and then climbed to the bottom of the bed and tucked his head on my feet.
When I closed my eyes this time, I felt myself smiling. I could be home right now. I could be home with my family beside me, my dog at my feet.
But I wasn’t.
I reached for my phone. No signal. I had some WiFi though, but it was pretty sketchy.
Probably for the best. I didn’t want to be reaching out to my family after just hours away from them. I had to show Kerry I was strong. That I was willing to make the ultimate compromise.
So I put my phone down beside my bed.
And then I reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels.
I thought about it. Hesitated. I didn’t have to do this. This didn’t have to be a boozy trip. I’d had my issues with alcohol in the past. I didn’t have to open myself up to that all over again.
But then just one sip would be fine.
One sip would help me sleep.
I heard Bouncer whine as I twisted the lid.
“It’s okay, boy,” I said. “Daddy’s just having a little nightcap, that’s all.”
His big brown eyes didn’t look so approving.
I took a deep breath and thought about my family.
Then I took a sip of the Jack Daniels.
Then another.
And another.
Sure, I didn’t just limit myself to one sip.
But I could feel myself drifting to sleep. I could feel consciousness slipping away. I could feel the pain of being torn from my family disappearing.
And soon, all I felt was the warmth of Bouncer’s head against my feet.
I took another sip, like I was back at home reading in front of the fire.
And then I didn’t feel anything.
CHAPTER FOUR
Two Days Before
I KNEW I must be in a shitty way when I actually felt fresh the morning after a heavy night of boozing. If that wasn’t a sign of a midlife crisis—or quarter-life, if I was lucky to live to 120—then I didn’t know what was.
It was late afternoon. It felt like morning, though. Probably something to do with the fact I’d slept in. I felt lousy when I woke, the taste of sick at the back of my throat, the smell of the booze on my breath nauseating to say the least. But in a strange way, I felt a hell of a lot better, too. It’s like I’d purged my system of all the badness. And sure, I wasn’t supposed to drink. Not after the issues I’d had with drink in the past.
But there was nothing wrong with the occasional bottle of whisky when things were going to shit.
Or two.
Okay. Maybe not two.
“Bouncer! Come back, boy.”
We were walking around Tay Forest Park. It was peaceful here. Right in the middle of nowhere, really. There were surrounding villages and towns, like Aberfeldy and Killiecrankie. But they were far enough away for me to not have to worry about bumping into many people while I was out here. Sure, I’d seen a few dog walkers, one with a rather hefty Rottweiler, and another with a Staffordshire Bull Terrier that definitely looked like it had a trace of American Pit Bull in it.
But other than that, it’d been pretty clear.
That was exactly how I liked it.
Bouncer ran up to me, panting.
I lifted my finger. “Now, sit.”
He sat down on the grass in front of me.
“Shake a paw.”
He lifted his paw, head tilting to one side in anticipation of what he was going to receive.
“Good boy!”
I threw the treat for him into the bushes. He bounced off in pursuit. Funny thing. We’d actually called Bouncer “Rocky” when we first got him. But he had this funny way of hopping through the grass that made Kerry and I nickname him Bouncer. In the end, that nickname had just stuck. Don’t think the damned dog even responded to “Rocky” anymore.
I took some deep breaths of the humid air as I walked. I felt fresher and more tuned in already. I guess isolation had that effect on me, weirdly. A lot of people require the company of others to feel better about things. I was the opposite.
I felt a speck of rain hit my forehead.
Then another.
And another.
“Damn,” I muttered. “Bouncer!”
I didn’t want to get drenched. Sure, I could dry my clothes by hanging them up in the log cabin, or I could just change into some other clothes, but I hated that feeling of being damp whenever I was camping. You could never truly dry until you got back home, and I wasn’t due back for a few days yet.
“Bouncer!” I jogged after him. I swore he’d jumped into these bushes somewhere. Yet there was no sign of him now. I got that twinge of panic. A panic that reminded me of a time I’d been out walking him, and I’d lost him. I’d searched ages for him. My biggest fear was that he’d looped around in an attempt to get back home, and run into the road or something. I’d already lost a cat to the road. I couldn’t face the thought of losing another animal.
In the end, I’d found him sitting right where he’d disappeared, wagging his tail, waiting for a treat.
But right now, there was no sign of him.
Bouncer was gone.
The rain lashed down heavier. The storm had come out of nowhere. I was drenched already, completely, so I figured no matter how much I rushed to get back, I was going to be soaked anyway.
There was something weird about this storm. I could hear thunder all of a sudden. The last time I’d witnessed a storm like this, I was in Singapore during tropical season. And sure, this was Britain, and we were hardly allergic to rain and storms.
But this… this was something else entirely.
I wiped the rain from my eyes as I struggled through the long grass. My boots were leaking, dammit. So much for waterproof.
“Bouncer! Come back, boy!”
I turned around in search for him.
Then I saw—and felt—something completely bizarre.
I’d read about lightning strikes before. Apparently, when you’re about to be struck by lightning, you feel a strange sensation, like the hairs on your arms are standing on end. And you feel a weird dread in the pit of your stomach. An inexplicable dread.
I wasn’t sure whether that last part was true. I thought it was mythical rubbish.
But right now, I felt every single hair on my arm tingling.
And I felt dread fill my body.
After that, I heard the bang before I saw it.
It blinded me temporarily. I fell back, not from the blast itself but more out of amazement.
Right in front of me, the branches of a tree smashed apart in a dramatic show of the strength of nature.
One of the branches came flying towards me.
I rolled out of its way as quickly as I could. I expected it to slam into my back.
But it didn’t.
It landed inches beside me.
I lay there in the dirt, stomach down, completely soaked. The thunder retreated. The rain eased. Just as quickly as it’d attacked, the storm
receded. I couldn’t believe what I’d just witnessed. I couldn’t believe how close I’d just got.
I lifted my head and saw Bouncer sitting opposite me.
He was sat down, tilting his head either side, like he hadn’t gone missing at all. He had a look on his face like a dog eager for a treat.
I smiled. Laughed. “Good boy,” I muttered. “Good boy.”
He came over to me, and he sat right beside me, while I lay in the mud and laughed as the buzz of what I’d just witnessed—what I’d just survived—settled in my body.
I’d witnessed the true power of electricity.
I’d seen just how strong it was, and how much of a hold it had over us.
And I’d seen its ability to take things away.
I got up. Walked back towards the cabin, completely drenched.
I thought I’d seen the power of electricity.
Little did I know, I hadn’t seen anything yet.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Night Before…
I LAY BACK in bed and listened to the rain falling on the cabin roof.
I had no idea how much my world was going to change in a matter of hours.
I was still too caught up in what had happened yesterday. The incident with the lightning. Something about it had awoken a part inside of me. It’d shocked me—not literally, thank God—and it’d made me conscious and aware of just how futile my problems were, really. Because I was just a human, and I was living on the terms of nature. Nature was strong. So much stronger than we realise. When you actually take the time to lie back with your eyes closed and think about it, we are just guests. Guests on a planet with just the right amount of gravitational pull to keep us standing. We have created the illusion of a society, sure, and the pretence of normality and security.
But that could all be taken away. It could all be taken away with the click of a finger.
All because of the whims of nature.
I turned over and saw Bouncer lying on the floor beside me again. Some reason, he hadn’t jumped onto my bed and joined me this time. He’d stayed put. I thought that was weird in itself. Usually, there was a kind of game between us. A game testing who cracks first. And that game always ended with me patting the space of the bed beside me, and Bouncer jumping up and joining me.
