After the Devil Has Won

by Rick Wood

  The soldiers switched the safety off on their guns.

  “One more time, Dalton. Put the gun down or I’ll shoot.”

  “Listen to him!” cried the girl. “A Thoral is on its way and it’s about to get all of us!”

  “A Thoral?” the clipboard man cried out, his face twisted like he’d just mistakenly eaten shit. “Nonsense! I know they were loose, but they were over eighty floors down.”

  “No shit, dickhead,” Dalton exclaimed. “They are loose, and it’s about to come here!”

  “Privates,” he said to the generals, “would you please put this miscreant down, he is causing me a headache.”

  “Dalton, man, please don’t make us do this.”

  Dalton approached them, still waving his gun about in the air.

  “You need to listen to me.”

  “Why should we?” came the voice of another soldier nearby. It was Joe. Dalton saw him glance at the girl behind him, his face curled with anger.

  “Right, enough of this,” clipboard man decided. “Once I have gotten to three, shoot him. One.”

  The ground rumbled. Everyone looked to each other nervously.

  The girl moved in front of the boy.

  “Two.”

  Dalton aimed at the two soldiers.

  If he was going down, so were they.

  “Three.”

  Before anyone could shoot anyone, the wall collapsed and a Thoral came charging in. Clipboard man had barely acknowledged the need to run before he was taken in its mouth and torn in two.

  56

  Dalton turned back to Cia and Boy.

  “Time to go,” he told them. He grabbed hold of Cia, who grabbed hold of Boy, and guided them forward.

  He locked eyes with the soldiers as he ran past them, like they were in a silent moment of understanding that they never would have shot.

  Even though Dalton knew they would have.

  Everyone had stared at the Thoral with such horror that they’d barely thought to run. But, halfway toward the exit, that changed, and everyone fought everyone to get to the single rectangular hole that separated the screams from the outside.

  The two soldiers fired at the Thoral, but only caused a wince.

  Joe ran up to Dalton’s side.

  “Dalton, man, I’m coming with you.”

  Dalton looked back at Joe with a perplexity that said it all.

  “Listen, mate, I’m sorry about what I said, I just–”

  Dalton punched Joe in the face, knocking him backwards.

  Cia looked at Dalton as if she required an answer, but he simply shrugged at her and they continued forward.

  But their route to the door was blocked. They were crammed in the middle of a mass of people shuffling in one direction.

  Cia could hear Boy whining, could hear his anxiety kicking in. She wasn’t surprised – he was being pressed up against a moving wave of people without any choice.

  She wrapped her arms around him and kept whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

  But it wasn’t okay.

  The Thoral had taken out everyone who had opposed it. The soldiers lay next to their guns, alongside the families who were far enough away from the door to be deemed Priority Queue 4.

  Cia looked over her shoulder as the Thoral moved closer to the masses.

  She looked to Dalton, then back at the Thoral.

  It swiped through another row of people, pushing them aside like they were pieces on a board game.

  “Dalton,” she said, aware that the Thoral was coming close.

  She felt afraid.

  For the first time in a while, she allowed herself to feel it.

  She’d spent so much time fighting it, so much time being numb, relying on instinct. And now there was nothing she could do, nothing to speed up the escape, nothing to quell that fear. She could die at any moment and there was no quick-thinking plan or act that would get her out of it.

  It seemed like Dalton recognised that fear, as he put a reassuring hand on the base of her neck and stroked her hair.

  “It’s okay,” he told her. “It’s going to be okay.”

  For once, she was the one being comforted.

  For once, she was the one being told it was going to be okay.

  She’d never had that. And it felt good. For the first time, it felt good.

  And the fear left.

  And she knew that, as much as she’d protect Boy, he’d protect her.

  Just as the thought arrived, they made it to the doorway and ran out into the blinding sunshine.

  People fled in every direction. Aimlessly disappearing, beneath the trees, wayward, no specific route in mind.

  Some clutched onto their families, making sure they were with them, making sure they were safe.

  Some didn’t.

  For some, it was all about their own survival. Their wife and children weighed them down, so they just sprinted in one direction and never looked back.

  Dalton and Cia knew there were enough clueless people running aimlessly behind them that they didn’t need to waste energy running too fast. They had the advantage – there were easier targets than them. So they jogged, all three of them, together.

  Jogged until miles had passed and the people fleeing were growing sparse.

  They found a tree. A tall oak tree, old, with long, sturdy, spiralling branches.

  Dalton helped them climb up, then he followed. Once they reached the highest point, they stopped, and they waited.

  Watching below.

  Watching as the elite died out or ran away.

  Watching the elite use each other’s bodies as blockades while they used each other’s bodies for warmth.

  And when dark came, Dalton took the watch.

  Meaning Cia and Boy could have an undisturbed sleep with someone else watching over them.

  And then the next day, maybe Cia could take watch.

  It wasn’t that she needed someone to take care of her. She didn’t. She’d never needed that.

  It was just nice to be able to sleep with both eyes closed for once.

  Later

  57

  Her eyes opened to a road.

  She’d been here before.

  She looked down, afraid that she would be in someone else’s body. But her hands were still her hands, her legs were her legs, and when she ran her hands through her hair, the same frizz replied.

  Just like before, it was a single-track gravel road between desert, leading to red hills under red clouds.

  And the girl was there. Young, blond, light-purple dress.

  But she wasn’t walking.

  She wasn’t even looking at Cia.

  She just stood there, her back to Cia, motionless, watching the great void that lay before her.

  “What are you doing?” Cia asked. For some unknown reason, she expected to feel searing pain as a response to her talking. Yet she felt nothing – just her own body and her own mind, same as she always was.

  The little girl didn’t reply. She made no movement beside her arm, which drifted upwards ever so slowly, then waited, her hand open, as if someone should fill that hand with theirs.

  No one did.

  “You know this had to be done, right?” Cia commented. “I mean, you knew it. You even nodded at the suggestion.”

  She had no reply.

  The girl’s body convulsed as if crying, her hand remaining upwards, waiting for someone to hold onto it.

  He wasn’t holding her hand.

  He had left.

  Cia had killed him.

  “He left me no choice,” Cia insisted.

  Cia stepped forward to go to the girl, to place a hand on her shoulder, hug her, comfort her – but something stopped her. She halted, feeling as if it wasn’t right. Like that wasn’t what she was supposed to do.

  Instead, she stood there for the longest time, just watching this girl waiting for him to take her hand.

  Cia didn’t feel him near. He’d been there be
fore, but she hadn’t seen him, she’d felt that he was there – now, she felt nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  “We all deserve the right to live,” Cia said, though this wasn’t as much to the girl as it was to herself.

  “And to die,” she added.

  The girl’s arm dropped to her side.

  Her head turned slightly, covered with hair, her features faintly visible against the red haze.

  “What should I do now?” the girl asked.

  Cia stepped forward, watching this girl, trying to look for an expression; but her face was too concealed for her to see one.

  “What should anyone do?” Cia said. “What is there to do?”

  “But I’m lost. I don’t know.”

  “We’re all lost.”

  “But…”

  The girl’s voice trailed off.

  For a moment, Cia almost felt sorry for her. Then she grew tired. She wished for this to be over.

  “You should walk,” Cia said. “Just…walk.”

  The little girl nodded, as if this was a good enough answer for her. She turned back to the horizon, and that is what she did: walk.

  Down the gravel path, alone, to nowhere.

  Cia watched her until she was gone.

  Then the dream ended, and her mind phased into an empty slumber – the kind of peaceful sleep we should all be so lucky to have.

  58

  Cia traced her finger along the edge of the clouds. Laid on the soft grass, she watched as they passed by and squinted at the brightness of the blue sky.

  Winter was definitely over, and summer was surely coming.

  “What do you see?” she asked.

  “Erm…” Boy replied, peering up at the clouds. “I don’t know.”

  “Just look very carefully at the cloud. It must be a shape, what shape do you see?”

  “Erm… a sword?” he said.

  She squinted at the cloud. Tilted her head. Peered.

  Ah, yes, guess it could be a sword. Why not?

  “Good one.”

  Heavy footsteps cracked nearby twigs. She didn’t flinch. She knew who it was.

  “Working hard, are you?” Dalton said, dumping a pile of wood to the floor.

  “Thought I’d let you work on your muscles, seeing as you don’t have a gym you can go to anymore.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha.”

  Cia smiled at his sarcastic laugh. She loved teasing him.

  “Look, I said you get the stuff, I’ll build the shelter. Fair deal.”

  “Still don’t get how you’re going to build a shelter out of this.”

  She smiled. He still had a lot to learn.

  She sat up, wiped the grass off her back and looked at Boy.

  His eyes were closed. Looked like he had somehow began napping.

  All right for some.

  She looked for the sun. It was halfway down the sky, which meant it was mid-afternoon.

  “I best get started. We don’t want to be exposed when night comes.”

  “I’ll go get some more wood.”

  She smiled at him.

  He paused, smiling back.

  Their eyes caught each other’s for a moment, and it looked like one of them would say something. But they didn’t. And the moment passed.

  “I’ll get to it then,” he said.

  “And put your back into it,” she teased.

  With a playful glare, he left.

  She watched him go. Thinking of what he’d lost, and how he was now.

  If anything, she believed he was happier. She had no way of knowing, of course. He had been in the overblown bunker for years before she ever came along, but she was confident. If his choice was inside the bunker, feeling alone, or outside here with her, she liked to think she’d know which he’d choose.

  He was happier, she was sure of it.

  She wondered if that would still be the case if he knew the truth.

  What if she told him?

  As in, the real reason his home had been lost?

  But then again, what would she say? That she got angry at her dad, took it out on him, and in doing so let thousands of people die?

  She had told herself they deserved it, but now, she wasn’t so sure. Yes, it wasn’t fair that they’d all had a home and food and luxuries, whilst the people left behind had to fight for their lives in a permanent state of flight or fight. That was certain.

  But what if she’d been able to stay there? If they hadn’t turned her away when she and her dad had arrived?

  Then she would have been one of them.

  Would she have deserved it? Would the same fate be suited to her?

  She would hardly have made the decision to stay outside if she’d been able to stay in safety, would she?

  Then again, look at her life. Boy on the ground, napping. Dalton disappearing into the trees to fetch wood so she could create shelter so they could hide and so he could… hold her, again. Like he did each night.

  She wasn’t alone anymore.

  But again, that was because of her. Because of what she’d done.

  He couldn’t know his home was destroyed because of her. He couldn’t.

  It would change everything.

  And she couldn’t take that.

  She felt safe now. Every day was a fight, but it was a fight all three of them faced.

  His home was destroyed, but she couldn’t have her new life destroyed, either.

  He couldn’t know what she’d done.

  Never. Ever.

  She wouldn’t tell him. She’d just keep it to herself, left unspoken, like their bond – left to the corners of their mind, where their true feelings lie.

  She was the only living person who knew.

  So she made that decision, affirmatively, to take it to her dying day, and to never say anything.

  He didn’t need to know. It didn’t matter anymore.

  He didn’t need to know.

  He didn’t.

  And he never would.

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