After the Devil Has Won

by Rick Wood

  A screech overhead and a roar in the distance made him speed up, grabbing her hand and joining a small queue. People ahead of them showed papers to a man by the door. The man was holding a gun. In fact, there were quite a few of them holding guns, and they all looked to be soldiers, and spaced out across the line. Behind the line was a man sat on a giant gun fastened to the floor, but she imagined that wasn’t meant for people, and it reassured her that, if one of the monsters came, she would be safe.

  As they reached the door, her dad took out his identification and showed it. The man looked him up and down, then turned to Cia. She was sure his lip curled up in a sneer, as if he looked revolted by the sight of her, and he turned to a list, scanning it.

  “Yeah, you’re on here,” the man said, and she could see her dad breathe a big sigh of relief.

  “Oh, brilliant.”

  “But she’s not.”

  He paused. Looked from Cia to the man, to Cia, back to the man again.

  “There must be some mistake,” he insisted.

  “Afraid not, and we can only let people in off the list.”

  “That’s ridiculous–”

  “If you want to dispute it, there’s a man with a gun over there who will answer your questions.” He nodded his head at an angry-looking soldier. “Then you can either piss off with the kid, or you can come in alone. Those are your options.”

  Cia’s dad looked to her with a long gaze, holding her tired eyes, her young eyes, in his, aware that she had no idea what was going on.

  “But – she’s my daughter,” he insisted.

  The man snorted. “Your daughter? How? What is she, black?”

  “She is mixed race. Her mother was black.”

  “I’ll be fucked if I care. Look, you coming in or what, because I got a line to get to.”

  “I’m sorry, but how can I–”

  “It’s you alone, or not at all. Make your decision.”

  He turned to Cia. Looked at her long and hard. Bowed his head. Closed his eyes to think, and held them closed for a while.

  “Dad?” Cia asked, unsure whether he’d gone to sleep.

  He took her to the side, crouched down to her, and placed his hands on her arms.

  “Listen to me, Cia,” he said. “I’m going to need you to be a big girl for me, now. No, a woman. I’m going to need you to be a strong woman, you hear me?”

  “Why, Dad?”

  He bowed his head and sighed. Something was wrong, she couldn’t figure it out, because they were there, they were at their new home, a place of sanctuary, and yet he looked distressed.

  “They are not letting you in,” he finally said.

  “What? Where are we going to go?”

  He sighed again. He was struggling with something.

  “Dad?” she repeated, wondering why he was so quiet. “Where are we going to go?”

  “I…” he went to say, then stopped.

  “Dad?”

  He composed himself. Wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve.

  “I’m going in,” he said. “It’s just – you’re not.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “They won’t let you in, so I’m going to go inside, and I’m going to find out why, and what I can do about it. Okay?”

  “You’re not leaving me alone, are you?”

  “Not for long, sweetheart. Not for long. I’m just – I’m going to go in and I’ll do what I can. You wait here. You’ll be safe here. Okay?”

  “Please don’t go, Dad.”

  He dropped his head again, another long sigh, another wipe of his sleeve.

  “Please, Cia,” he said. “Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

  “What am I making harder, Dad? You’re not explaining–”

  “I have explained, you’re just not listening,” he snapped.

  “Dad?” she said weakly. He’d never spoken to her like that before.

  He looked her in the eyes. Held her gaze. Held it, then said three final words.

  “I love you.”

  He ripped himself away, walked up to the man, and entered that door without looking back.

  Then that door closed.

  Cia ran up to the door, beating her hands against it, screaming, furiously crying.

  “Dad! Dad! Come back! What are you doing?”

  “Can someone sort this out?” requested the man at the door.

  A soldier with a gun came up to her and grabbed hold of her arm.

  She refused to move. She kept banging and screaming.

  “Dad! Dad!”

  The soldier pulled her away with more force, throwing her to the ground.

  She looked up at his face, mean and twisted.

  “Go away,” he grunted.

  “But, my dad’s in there–”

  “So?”

  “I have to wait for him!”

  The soldier chuckled. “He ain’t coming back. Now piss off before I shoot you.”

  She looked back at the soldier, stumped, unable to understand. Not coming back? He obviously didn’t know her dad.

  He wouldn’t leave her.

  He’d never leave her.

  Would he?

  “I’m going to wait here,” she insisted.

  “No. You. Ain’t. Piss off!”

  “But–”

  The soldier shot his gun at the space beside her feet and she flinched, running back.

  “Piss off I said!” the soldier screamed.

  Cia turned and ran into the forest, terrified he was going to shoot her for real.

  Eventually, she stopped running, and realised she was lost. She had no way to get back.

  What if her dad couldn’t find her? What if he went looking and found that she wasn’t there?

  No, she would wait right where she was. If he looked for her, and she became even more lost, it would make things worse. So she’d wait. She wouldn’t move from that spot.

  And she didn’t, for days. Until she desperately needed to eat, and the rainwater wasn’t enough to hydrate her.

  That’s when she decided she should try to find her way back to the bunker, to her father.

  Only, her father wasn’t trying to find his way back to her.

  NOW

  35

  Rosy had said she was coming back for him.

  She had promised.

  Had she lied?

  Had she never actually cared about him?

  The moon had gone up and down more times than Boy could count. Another night descended, and another round of fear kicked in.

  He stayed small.

  Out of the way.

  Rosy had always taught him to shrink, to stay out of sight, to put cover between him and those monsters.

  But every time he heard one, all thoughts left. Every screech, every growl, every hiss, he just covered his ears and shouted, blocking it out, if he couldn’t see them maybe they couldn’t hurt him please don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me.

  That’s when he saw them, hidden behind the trees.

  People. Wearing the same outfit. Sort of camouflage, but not. Dark green.

  They were talking, but he couldn’t understand what they were talking about, though it was with such confidence that it made him want to shrink and scream again.

  Rosy had always told him that–

  No.

  She’d left.

  Stop thinking about her.

  Rosy left me.

  He wiped away a tear as he hid behind a tree. His footstep cracked a leaf and the people immediately stopped talking, turned their guns and pointed them at him.

  He moaned. Shrunk, closed his eyes, covered his ears, shook his head.

  Leave me alone.

  Leave me alone.

  Leave me alone.

  They had guns. Big guns.

  Why did they have such big guns?

  Something grabbed his arm and so he opened his eyes and there they were. Crouched in front of him. Their guns aimed
at the ground.

  “Hey, pal,” one of them said. “What’s your name?”

  He stared back at them. He wished they’d go away. He wished they’d leave him alone.

  “It’s all right. My name is Dalton, and this is my mate, Joe–”

  Before Dalton could introduce his friend, Boy covered his ears and began moaning again. Dalton shoved his hands off his ears and held them tightly in his grip. Boy turned his face away and closed his eyes as tightly as he could.

  “Hey,” Dalton tried, but Boy didn’t respond.

  He scrunched his eyes closed tighter. Wishing they’d go away.

  “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” Dalton insisted.

  Boy shook his head.

  “I said I’m not going to hurt you.”

  The boy began whispering to himself. “The devil has departed, And you are not alone. The devil has departed, And you are not alone. The devil has departed, And you are not alone.”

  Dalton looked to his comrade and back again.

  “What is that?” Joe asked.

  Boy just continued. “The devil has departed, And you are not alone. The devil has departed, And you are not alone.”

  “Where do I know that from?” Dalton mused. Then he remembered. From Daniel Rose. It was framed on his desk.

  “Do you know Daniel?” Dalton asked.

  Boy didn’t answer. “The devil has departed, And you are not alone. The devil has–”

  Dalton grabbed Boy’s chin and turned his face. Boy stared back at Dalton, wide-eyed, fighting the fear, his whole body alert.

  “Shut up,” Dalton demanded. “Where did you hear that poem?”

  Boy said nothing.

  “Right, we’re taking him in,” Dalton told his friend, and they stood.

  Boy tried to run, but Dalton wrapped his arms around him and held him securely. That’s when he noticed the boy’s t-shirt sticking to his shoulder via a patch of dried blood.

  The boy was hurt.

  “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be fine. You don’t need to be afraid.”

  But Boy was afraid.

  He was very afraid.

  And he was right to be.

  36

  Cia wanted to let Harriet gather herself; to recuperate, feed, wash. She didn’t want to hurry her, as that would be counterproductive.

  But she couldn’t help feeling on edge, and she knew, until she had her answers, she would just be waiting anxiously to ask the questions.

  They passed a row of bushes bearing ripe, juicy berries. They each had a few, though Cia let Harriet have more – she needed them. Cia was petite, but Harriet was fading away. It was only now, in the light, that Cia truly saw how thin this poor girl was; ribs pushed against her skin like her skin was cellophane, her thighs as thin as her calves, skin wrapped tightly around the meek bone structure of her face.

  A pool of rainwater was enough for Harriet to dive to her knees and begin scooping, cupping her hands and bringing it to her mouth. Cia watched, thankful she hadn’t yet become so desperate that she required muddy rainwater to quench her thirst – though she had come very close.

  After Harriet had taken on all the berries and water she could, Cia put a hand on her back and guided her through the forest.

  Finally, Cia decided Harriet was in well enough state to answer her questions.

  “Harriet,” she announced. “We need to talk.”

  Harriet looked to her full of confusion and worry.

  “Don’t worry, there’s nothing bad. I just need to know something.”

  “What do you need to know?”

  “That poem – the one you were saying to yourself. Where did you hear it?”

  “What poem?”

  Cia sighed. Forced patience.

  “After the Devil Has Won.”

  “Erm…” Harriet tried to remember.

  “You were facing the wall of your cell, in a ball, and you were saying it. Clear, every word of it.”

  “I don’t recall…”

  “The devil has departed, And you are not alone,” Cia tried. “Take time to rebuild, Your love in our home.”

  Harriet stopped walking, as if she needed to stay still to think. Her face twisted with recognition.

  “Yes…” she said. “I do know it…”

  “Where did you hear it, Harriet? I need to know.”

  Harriet looked to Cia, opened her mouth and tried to answer – but no answer produced itself.

  “Please, Harriet. Think.”

  “It’s just a poem I know.”

  “It’s not just a poem. My mum wrote it, and she died when I was very little. She never published it or anything, and I use it to comfort my friend when he is worried. And now that friend is missing.”

  “Your friend?”

  “Yes, my friend. And that poem is one we both know, no one else.”

  Harriet sat down on a large stone.

  “I heard it from my Breeder.”

  “Okay.” Cia nodded. This wasn’t helpful, but they were getting somewhere. “And where did he hear it from?”

  Harriet went to speak, but shrugged.

  “Think, Harriet. Please.”

  Harriet cast her mind back, as much as she could, to the memories she didn’t want to keep. In a room with her Breeder, cowering in the floor as his heaving, sweaty body stood over her.

  “Get up,” he demanded.

  She shook her head, covering her face. She’d had enough. She couldn’t take any more. Nothing was happening to her body, it just stayed the same, and she couldn’t take it.

  “I said, get up.”

  She shook her head – not defiantly, or with strength, but more with denial and terror. If she refused, maybe he’d be kind.

  But he wouldn’t.

  He never was.

  “Tell you what,” her Breeder said, taking a different approach. “How’s about a nice poem?”

  He crouched down before her. She looked up, as if she believed that he was suddenly going to be nice and all the nastiness could stop.

  “Would you like that?” he repeated.

  She shrugged, drying tears from her eyes.

  “Here’s one I heard from a bunch of arsehole soldiers who stole my food.”

  Harriet broke the memory, snapping out of the thought, and abruptly stood.

  Cia stood, seeing the excitement on Harriet’s face, as if she remembered.

  “What? What is it?” Cia prompted.

  “I remember where he said he heard it.”

  “Yeah?”

  A dozen screeches scorched the air. Cia looked up and saw movement in the sky.

  “I remember!” Harriet continued to shout, becoming giddy.

  Cia grew cautious. Something was coming. More and more screeches were getting closer.

  “Harriet, stop shouting.”

  “But I remember!” she said, even louder, grabbing Cia’s arms, completely oblivious.

  Cia kept looking at the sky.

  They were circling them. They’d been spotted, and there was a group of Masketes readying themselves to dive down.

  “Harriet, stop shouting–”

  “But I can tell you now!”

  The ominous shadows cast them in silhouette.

  “Harriet, get down!”

  Cia ducked to the floor and slid under a nearby bush.

  Harriet looked at her, perplexed, still stood.

  “What are you doing?” Harriet asked.

  “Get down!” Cia pleaded.

  “But I know where he heard it!” she insisted. “It was when he–”

  Cia saw it coming before Harriet did. She witnessed one last glance of vulnerability on Harriet’s face before she disappeared.

  “Harriet!” Cia screamed, leaping up to pull Harriet down.

  She was too late.

  Her fingers could only brush Harriet’s feet as the Maskete took her in its claws.

  Harriet’s screams quickly grew faint. Within seconds, she was just a figure thr
ashing in the distance.

  “No, Harriet!”

  She ran after her, but it was no good.

  She did all she could to see where Harriet was taken. Peering into the sky, watching as the figure of the Maskete grew smaller, toward a hill.

  It seemed to stop at this hill. But it wasn’t alone. There looked to be a mass of them. So many of them, all at the top of this hill.

  Sensing another was about to swoop down, Cia dropped to the floor once more and slid back under the bush.

  She waited for the screeches to end. Until she knew they were gone.

  Taking in a big, deep breath, she closed her eyes and mentally prepared herself for a hefty climb, and the fight that would follow.

  37

  The more tired Cia’s legs grew, the steeper the hill became. Every step felt like she was wading through water, the top of the hill never arriving, the ascent always persisting.

  She paused, falling to her knees to rest. She wouldn’t let herself sit down properly for fear she wouldn’t get back up again. If she rested, her legs would grow more weary, and it would be all the harder to get going again. Besides, she couldn’t afford to rest; for all she knew, Harriet had been torn up and eaten by now.

  So she poised, her knees on the ground, her palms flat out on the muddy grass. What did it matter if she became filthy anymore?

  After everything that had happened, a little mud didn’t bother her.

  She turned over her shoulder. Looked at the slope, peered down the hill at how far she’d come. It looked so far, like she should already be at the top – yet, when she twisted her neck to look upwards, she couldn’t even see the top.

  What if she stopped?

  What if she just let herself roll back down that hill? Hide out, get some food, nourish herself. Move on. Get on with her life.

  It was tempting – then again, it wasn’t. The thought was there, but it was never an option.

  There was one thing driving her forward, one thing telling her to propel through her mounting fatigue, to confront this nest of Masketes, to risk her life for everything:

  Boy.

  Harriet knew the poem. Her Breeder must have heard it from somewhere, and it must have been between the time Cia lost Boy and the time she saw Harriet get dragged away – that meant that she had a day, if that, since that poem had been heard.