by Ryan Casey
No. The uncertainty now was whether you wanted an afterlife or not.
That was the greatest choice of all.
“You okay?” Hayden asked.
Sarah winced as they hopped off the coach and into the fresh Holyhead air. “Just about. How’s your leg?”
“Fine,” Hayden said, even though he was biting his tongue just to keep the pain from his injured Achilles at bay. There were bigger matters at stake right now. Bigger things to worry about. “Just hope she finds what she’s looking for.”
Sarah wiped the dust from her torn jeans. “You know too well that sometimes it’s best not to find what you’re looking for. Nothing wrong with a little hope.”
She had a point. Was finding his mum and dad really the right thing? And Clarice? Would it’ve just been better if he’d believed they were still out there, still surviving, making it?
No.
No, he didn’t believe that was true.
“Hope’s good. But reality’s more important.”
He took Sarah’s hand and together they walked down the pavement in pursuit of Holly.
The suburban area of Holyhead they were in was pretty much like every other suburb Hayden had seen since the fall. Empty. Quiet. No sign of life behind the windows of detached houses. Coke cans scraping across the concrete in the breeze. Empty bottles lying half-cracked, lined with blood, a sign of a recent fight. Weeds sprouting up from the middle of the uncut gardens—gardens that would never be touched again. The smell of decay from overturned rubbish bins, left on the pavement but never to be collected.
Holly was right in front of a detached house just a few metres away. And as Hayden approached, Sarah’s hand in his, he remembered Newbie. The hope in Newbie’s eyes when he’d gone upstairs; found evidence that his family were alive.
But then the fate that had befallen him.
All because he wasn’t looking over his shoulder.
All because he was blissfully oblivious to his surroundings.
Holly started walking up the cobbled pathway. “I’ll go check—”
“Not alone,” Hayden said, limping up beside her. “Not come all this way to risk losing you on the doorstep.”
Holly frowned when she looked at Hayden.
Then she shook her head.
“What?” Hayden asked.
“Nothing.”
“That look. What was it?”
Holly looked back at Hayden. Then at Sarah. She took a deep breath then cleared her throat. “The pair of you. You … you don’t have to be this nice. I don’t deserve you to be this—this understanding. Not for how I treated you. For what I did to you.”
Hayden nodded. Forced a smile. “Maybe not. But it’s all we’ve got right now. So we’re here with you.”
He held a hand out. A hand pointed in the direction of Holly’s ex’s house.
Holly smiled back at him.
Walked up the pathway.
Towards the front door.
Hayden and Sarah followed.
Listened to their footsteps echo in the silence.
Holly stopped right in front of the door. Lifted her fist to knock, then lowered it. Put it on the handle. Started to turn. “He always said I was welcome to visit. That—that we’d always be friends no matter what happened. Guess we’ll find out if he really meant it.”
The handle reached the bottom.
Holly pushed the door open.
The first thing that hit Hayden, as usual, was the smell.
The smell of rotting that always brought negative connotations along with it.
Because rotting meant death.
And death meant failure.
But despite the smell, despite the similarly familiar sound of insects buzzing around, Hayden and Sarah followed Holly inside.
Followed her to the closed lounge door.
Followed her every step.
Hayden’s heart picked up when Holly pushed open the lounge door. Nothing in there. Nothing but a big television, of photos of a man and a woman, presumably Andy and his new wife, all standing on a fireplace. No sign of life. No sign of death. Nothing.
So it came to the stairs.
It always came to the stairs.
The creaking of the steps as they walked up, one by one.
Just like they’d creaked when Hayden found his big sister Annabelle hanging all those years ago.
Just like they’d creaked when he’d walked up the stairs to find his mum and dad, Dad turned, Mum on her way, in that little box room at the front of Clarice’s house.
Just like they creaked in his nightmares.
Step by step by step.
They reached the top step. Still no sign of blood, of anything like that. But still no sign of life. The torture of finding a loved one dead versus the torture of not knowing whether they’d made it or not.
But that wouldn’t be the case. Not today.
Because the smell of decay was growing stronger the closer they got to the white door opposite the stairs.
Holly stopped before it. Teeth rattling together. Shaking all over.
Hayden put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched a little, then let it rest there, let it rest there as she stared at the door, prepared to look at the inevitable, to face her demons head on.
“It’ll be okay,” Hayden said. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat.
Nodded.
Lifted her hand.
Put it on the door handle.
Hayden’s heart picking up now too.
Smell of decay intensifying, sound of flies—
“H-Holly?”
The voice came from the left. A man’s voice. Made Hayden flinch and reach into his pocket instinctively, such was the nature of the world now.
Hayden turned. So too did Sarah, Holly.
A man stood staring at them. He had a long, rusty knife in his hand. His skin was pink and bruised, his hair long and unkempt, his dark beard unshaven, interspersed with bits of ginger, bits of white.
He looked at Holly with tired, bloodshot eyes.
And in those eyes, Hayden saw the man he’d seen in the pictures downstairs. The man he’d seen in the photographs. A fragment of him still remaining in this malnourished man in a loose white (or off-grey) cotton shirt, black trousers, no shoes.
“Andy?” Holly said. “Andy?”
She didn’t say anything else.
Neither did he.
They both walked towards each other.
Hurtled into each other’s arms.
And together, they embraced one another tightly and they cried.
Because they’d found one another.
Holly’s mission was complete.
Hayden and Sarah’s mission was complete.
And although he was happy for them—although he should’ve been happy for them—Hayden really wasn’t sure how to feel.
Other than afraid.
Forty-Five
Hayden held Sarah’s shaking hand and watched as Holly and Andy smiled, caught up, made up for lost time.
It was nice, in a way. Nice seeing two people who were completely adrift from one another put the past behind them and push forward. Sitting in this lounge and watching Holly and Andy talk, it was clear there was still a spark between them. And there was no excusing the bad things Holly had done, sure. But right now Hayden saw nothing but a woman delighted to be back in the company of someone she knew. Someone she loved.
And Andy looked just as delighted to be back with Holly.
“Not been easy surviving out here,” Andy said, turning to look at Hayden and Sarah. “Impossible to know when the dead’re coming and when they’re taking a breather for the day. But y’know.”
“Something you just get used to,” Hayden said.
“Right,” Andy said, nodding.
He looked right into Hayden’s eyes like he was scanning him. Checking he was legit. A look everyone exchanged with one another these days. Because he cared abou
t Holly. He wanted to know Hayden hadn’t hurt her. That Sarah hadn’t hurt her. He’d stitched up and bandaged Hayden’s leg, but that didn’t mean he trusted him. Trust was a dangerous thing, Hayden knew that as well as anyone.
Hayden didn’t mention Holly’s lies. Her attempts to leave them behind—to kill them.
They were the past. This was the present.
She’d made her mistakes. She’d done what she’d done. And after all, in the end, it’d got her home. Back with the man she loved.
The wrong methods, sure, but the right outcome.
Hayden shuddered to think what that said about the wider world now in general.
“You folks travelled far?” Andy asked.
“Too far,” Sarah said. Her speech was slurred. Sweat dripped down her face. But she was holding on.
Holding on, but dying.
But holding on.
“But we got here,” she continued, every word a pained effort. “So … so it was worth it.”
She exchanged a glance with Holly.
Holly nodded back at her.
“You guys can stay around here,” Andy said, peeking out of the closed curtain, which cast a pink hue over the room. “Plenty of places for you to stay. Spare beds, shit like that. Just avoid the door at the top of the stairs. Deterrent. You probably smelled it. Ain’t permanent but it does the trick. Keeps looters wary long enough for me to … to sort ’em out.”
“You’ve been alone all this time?” Sarah asked.
Andy nodded. “Well, since … since my wife disappeared. Ran off with the next door neighbour. Never did trust her.”
“Taste of your own medicine,” Holly said.
Andy shrugged. “Maybe so. Maybe so.”
Hayden stood up. Walked around the lounge. Looked at the family photographs. Snapshots of happiness. Fossils from the world before. “We know a place. Back up north. Decent place with good walls where we’ve been staying for a while. Holly knows it. It won’t be an easy journey back but you should join us. There’s good people there. There’s—”
“I’m not coming back, Hayden.”
Hayden turned around. Looked into Holly’s eyes. And as she stared up at him he felt his worst fears coming true. Holly refusing to return to Riversford because she had what she wanted, who she wanted.
Sarah dying.
Leaving him alone.
Completely, utterly alone.
“I’ve made it this far to be with Andy.”
“Riversford’s safer—”
“Perhaps,” Holly said. She put an arm around Andy. “But it’s not here.”
Hayden looked at her a little longer. Begged she’d change her mind. Pleaded silently for her and Andy to scrap their plans of staying put, to move back to Riversford with him, to start again.
“I’ve travelled too far,” Holly said. “I … I’ve done too many things on the road. Things I’m—I’m not proud of. To get here. I can’t do that again. I can’t … I can’t allow myself to lose it like that again. I’m sorry.”
Hayden understood it. He understood Holly’s reluctance to step back into a world that corrupted her in the first place. He understood her adamance to stay away from that dangerous world that almost killed her.
“If this is where it ends for me then this is where it ends,” Holly said, moving her hand to Andy’s, holding it. “I’m tired of running. Tired of—of trying to find ‘safe places’ that don’t exist—”
“But Riversford’s—”
“Safe. For now. Right. But for how long?”
Hayden couldn’t answer.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and walked over to Holly, to Andy. He crouched opposite them. Heart racing. Wanted to just beg Holly to come with him. To beg Andy to make her change her mind.
But he realised how selfish he was being.
Because he was thinking about himself. Worrying about being alone.
“But like Andy said,” Holly said. “You’re welcome to stay here.”
Hayden looked back at Holly. He wanted to say yes. To say he’d stay here. To give up the pursuit of somewhere safe—somewhere completely safe.
But he couldn’t.
“This is your home now, but it’s not mine. You understand that more than anyone, I think.”
He put an arm around Holly’s back.
Hugged her, then pulled away.
And then he took Andy’s hand. Shook it.
“Look after each other. Promise me that.”
Andy smiled. “We’ll do our best. You know where we are.”
“Yeah,” Hayden said, still holding Andy’s hand. “Yeah I do.”
He stepped away. Stepped away and saw Sarah standing there. So pale. So weak. Dying. The one person he had left, the one person who’d stand beside him in pursuit of a safe haven, fading away.
Sarah stepped up to Holly. Looked her in the eyes. And as Hayden walked away, walked to the lounge door, he saw them exchange a few words. Didn’t know what they said exactly, but they were words that made Sarah hug Holly. Made her hug her and hold her for ages.
And then she pulled away, tears in Holly’s eyes, and she stepped away.
“Don’t—don’t forget where we are,” Holly said.
Hayden took Sarah’s hand. Walked out of the lounge. Through to the main door. “We won’t.” But somehow he didn’t think he’d ever be back here again. And somehow, he knew Holly understood that.
Some wounds could be forgiven but they could never be healed.
He opened the door.
Felt the cool spring breeze brush against him.
Tightened his grip on Sarah’s hand.
“You ready?” he asked.
She gulped. Forced a smile. “Ready—ready as I’ll ever be.”
Hayden leaned over. Kissed her on the cheek.
Then he stepped out of Holly and Andy’s new house, out onto the pathway, out into the unknown.
He couldn’t look back.
Only ahead.
And immediately ahead was Sarah.
Granting her wishes.
Helping her die.
Forty-Six
Hayden held Sarah’s hand as they looked out to sea and he wished circumstances could be different.
They were at the South Stack lighthouse. Nice spot by the cliffs overlooking the Irish Sea. The sun was descending, its light glimmering in the ripples. Looked almost peaceful. Almost beautiful. And although Hayden knew Ireland was across the sea, although he knew that more land was out there—land that had no doubt fallen just like Britain—he felt like he was staring off into a peaceful oblivion. A perfect nothingness where beyond the horizon, nothing bad existed, not really.
He smelled the sea air, listened to the waves crashing against the cliffs below, and he tried not to think about Sarah’s shaking hand.
It was growing colder by the second. Sarah was shivering more, too. Shivering and complaining of dizziness. Letting out little pained noises—noises that when Hayden asked about them, she rebuked, pretended all was well, all was okay.
But it wasn’t okay.
It wasn’t okay because Sarah was bitten.
It wasn’t okay because Sarah was dying.
It wasn’t okay because soon, Hayden would be alone, completely alone, and Sarah would be gone.
“I guess this is it then,” she said.
The words made Hayden’s stomach turn. Words he didn’t want to hear. Words that shattered the false illusion of normality—no, better than normality—that the silence provided.
The words that confirmed Sarah was still dying. That they had a job to do, both of them. That time was of the essence.
“I’m … I’m not sure I can stand by and—”
“It’s over, Hayden. You know that as well as—as I do now. You can see it. See it in my eyes and in my body. The—the way I am. In my speech. In everything. You … you know it now.”
And Hayden did know it. As he looked at Sarah, looked into her tearful eyes, he did know it. She was going.
Close to gone. But she hadn’t been torn apart, not like the majority of people did, the unfortunate end they faced.
She’d made it to the edge of this cliff.
Made it to the end of land.
To a dignified death.
A death of her own making.
“I just … I just don’t think I can—”
“You said we were together. All of us. You said we’d all conquer things together. You promised that to me.”
“But this isn’t conquering anything.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said.
She moved closer to Hayden. Put her arms around his back. He felt what little warmth was in her twitching body seeping through into him and begged it to go back inside her, to keep her heated and alive a little longer.
“This is me conquering—conquering what should happen to me. The—the infection.”
“You’re not. This is—this is giving up. We can still try—”
“I’m conquering it because I’d rather die than come back as one of those things.” There was anger in her voice now. An impatience that hadn’t been present for days. “I … I always thought I was scared shitless of death. But right now… right now anything’s better than what’ll happen if I leave it. If we leave it.”
Hayden’s heart pounded. The taste of sea air made him sickly. He knew Sarah was right. He knew arguing with her was fickle. Pointless. Selfish.
Sarah looked down the side of the cliff. Into the sea. Looked at it with cautious curiosity.
“There’s no guarantee it’ll work this way.”
“There’s no guarantee it’ll work any way,” Sarah said. “But this is the way I choose. I … I always heard it was more peaceful. Most peaceful death of all. Painful as shit for a while—water filling up your lungs, all that. But then the endorphins kick in and you don’t feel anything. Nothing—nothing but softness. And then everything just seems … seems okay.”
“You can’t know this for sure.”
“Rather this than any other way,” Sarah said.
Hayden looked back out at the sea. He lifted his hand, wiped a tear from his eyes. “You … you don’t have to do this.”
“You know I do.”
“I don’t—I don’t want you to go.”
Sarah grabbed Hayden’s hand. Squeezed it, tight. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You’ll make it somehow. You’ll find a way.”
