Still Life (Still Life Series Book 1)

by Isobel Hart

  Whichever way I looked at it I was screwed. For now, my fate lay in Elliott’s hands. He was a sweet, beautiful man who had looked after me, and I had rewarded him by being pregnant with another man’s child. Life had dealt us a cruel hand. When the knock on the door came at midday exactly, I called ‘come in’ and then held my breath.

  Chapter 33

  Elliott stood at the door alone. His face looked harrowed. “Lunch?” he asked in a falsely bright voice, as his eyes flashed towards the camera above my head.

  “Yes. Please,” I agreed. “Let me just go to the bathroom and wash my hands.” He nodded, and I slipped into the small en-suite, remembering a similar room I’d pebble-dashed in orange bilious vomit. I grabbed the soap from the side and lathered my hands, taking a second to look at Elliott through the mirror. He’d turned up alone. That might be a promising sign. He looked haunted, though. Anyone who saw him would know he knew something, and whatever the something was, it wasn’t good. I grabbed a towel from the hook and dried my hands, promising myself a shower later, then turned and smiled at Elliott. “Okay?” I asked.

  “Not really,” he admitted softly. “Heidi’s meeting us in the canteen.”

  “That will be nice.” I smiled again. “I hear you got to know her a bit before . . . before they took her too.”

  “Yeah. I like her. She’s a good friend to you.” I knew he meant she was a good friend because she’d said nothing about my situation to anyone. My clever friend had clearly worked through what they might do to me if they knew. He offered his elbow and I took it, allowing him to lead me out of the room, along the corridor to a fire exit at the end. The prefabricated building I’d been kept in was situated in the grounds of the camp, within the protection of metal walls. Space must have been at a premium.

  The camp had been set up around a stately home – again, the groups had more in common than they knew. Elliott led me into the main building and towards a large room that had been turned into a canteen. The room must have been a ballroom or banqueting hall in a previous life. “Heidi’s there,” he said, pointing to the corner, where sure enough Heidi sat alone, a tray of food on the table in front of her. “You go and sit down. I’ll bring some food over for the both of us.” Given the silence that had descended at my appearance, I couldn’t sit down soon enough.

  I made my way across the room, ignoring the whispers about me and where I’d been. I heard Aiden’s name mentioned a few times and the word “concubine”. “Sit down,” Heidi said, as soon as I got close enough. “You’re not safe here, Sam. They hate you. They think you’re working with them. You need to leave. They don’t even know–” I gave a quick shake of my head to shut down the conversation.

  “I know,” I said. “I told Elliott. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m not sure he knows what to do now. I agree I need to leave, though.” We turned to watch him as he weaved his way across the room towards us. Several women jumped up and invited him to share their table with them. I had a momentary flashback to Edward and Ella. Irritation twisted several faces after he declined politely, choosing to continue his slow path towards us instead. Given the paucity of men in the room (I counted no more than six in over one hundred people), I figured a gem like Elliott would be a hot commodity. He would have been at any time – handsome doctors rarely struggled to attract the opposite sex in my experience – but here and now he was in even greater demand. As a result, we were subjected to numerous scowling looks cast our way, all of which he remained oblivious to.

  “Fish and chips for two,” he said, putting the tray down in front of his seat, removing a plate which he placed in front of me. “You’ve lost weight. You need to eat more . . . to keep your strength up,” he said meaningfully.

  My eyes filled until my vision blurred, as he busied himself, collecting salt and vinegar. A single tear rolled down my cheek. I reached out and squeezed his hand before picking up my knife and fork and cutting off a corner of the fish, aware of people watching our every move.

  “So what happened after the grenade went off?” I asked Heidi, needing a distraction. “What happened to the others?”

  “Peter blocked me from the blast. He was unconscious but still alive, last I saw.” She looked down before she added; “Tara didn’t make it. A piece of shrapnel hit her in the head. There was nothing anyone could have done.”

  “Oh my God!”

  Heidi nodded. “She was a decent person. One of only a few in that place.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “What about Edward?”

  “He crawled away. I think he broke his leg. He tried to wake you up first and got very distressed when he couldn’t. In the end, when it became clear you had a concussion and were out for the count, and he couldn’t even stand, I told him to go. I promised him I’d make sure you were okay. The resistance were pouring through the door at the time, shooting anything that moved. They’d have killed him if he’d stayed.”

  I nodded. I could imagine, from what I’d seen before I’d been hit, how bad it had been.

  “What about Ella?”

  “She was bleeding heavily but still alive.”

  “How the hell any God saw fit to save Ella and take Tara I’ll never know. There’s no justice.”

  “Who’s Ella?” Elliott asked.

  “She’s one of the girls doing exactly what your commander accused me of. She was a jealous bitch. A bit like some of the women in here.” I cast a look around at the still-scowling faces that surrounded us. An escalating angry murmur started circulating in the room.

  “I think we need to leave, Sam. I don’t feel safe in here,” Heidi said.

  I nodded.

  Elliott grabbed a plate of food, and as a group we stood.

  “Leaving already?” a tall Amazonian-looking woman asked, standing to block my route from the room.

  “We don’t want any trouble,” Elliott said, attempting to intercede on my behalf, as he stepped in front of me.

  “Step away, handsome. Our beef isn’t with you or the other girl. Just her,” she said, squaring up to me. It was too soon after my concussion. My body barely had the strength to stand up for long, let alone fight this giantess.

  “Ladies, stand down,” a new voice boomed across the room. For the first time since I’d met her I found myself pleased to see Commander Stewart bearing down on us. “Elliott, escort Samantha back to her room. I’ll see some food is brought to the three of you there.” Gratefully we made our way across the room. Elliott ignored the outraged comments that followed when he placed a protective arm around my shoulders, leaving it there despite the significant animosity it directed towards him. I welcomed the comforting weight, having never felt quite so vulnerable before.

  True to her word, the commander supplied us with food, but given the surveillance in the room any conversation we might have wanted to have was stymied. Heidi left first, leaving Elliott with me. He seemed unwilling to leave me alone, despite my assurances I’d be fine. Given the level of surveillance they had me under it was hard to believe much could happen. In the end, because the bed only had a single mattress and there was nothing else suitable to sleep on, he left me to rest, the excitement of the day finally catching up with me. “I’ll be back later this evening,” he promised, kissing me gently on the forehead. “Get some rest.”

  “Thank you, Elliott. For everything.”

  “It’ll be okay,” he murmured. “We’ll be okay.” He saw me into the bed, making sure I had everything I needed, before leaving me to get some sleep.

  I must have drifted off fairly quickly. The next time my eyes opened it was to find myself being physically restrained, a hand clamped over my mouth. I struggled, but there were too many hands on me, tearing my clothes away until I was left with nothing. All my initial fear was for my baby, my exposed belly vulnerable if they chose to attack. Thankfully my still-flat tummy drew little notice. Once they had me naked, a wad of material stuffed into my mouth to prevent me calling for help and making me fear suffocation, they took
pleasure in covering my nose and watching me panic as my lungs heaved for oxygen. There were so many women in the room, all jeering at me, leaving me helpless to defend myself. A lit cigarette pressed repeatedly into my arms and body. Terrified, my bladder released. “Stupid, dirty whore,” the ringleader announced. “Standing in your own filth, like the rancid bitch you are. You were happy to fuck the zombies. Did you like having their rotten dicks inside you? Then you think you can come here and take one of our men? We won’t let you taint him with your infected pussy. Women like you should be ashamed of giving in so easily. Sitting next to that leader like you were proud to be there. Helping them to seduce more women. You should be ashamed. People should know what you are. It’s our job to make sure they know exactly what you are, and what happens to women like you,” she said, her passion infecting the crowd, who roared in approval.

  When she moved towards me again my fear escalated. In her hand she held an object – a razor. I feared she intended to cut my wrists or my throat; instead, when she was within arm’s reach, she grabbed a fist full of my hair and started hacking at it. My hair proved to be too long and thick, so someone produced scissors, and as I was held there they hacked it all away, long strands fluttering to the floor, feathering out around me.

  I closed my eyes, trying to tune them all out, the jeers and laughs fading into nothing as I focused myself inward. Survival; that was all that mattered. Life. Mine and my child’s. The rest of it, the rest of them, could rot in hell. I’d fought to defend these women, and this was what they chose to do to one of their own. Hatred burned within me, white hot, smelting my core and reforming me into something solid and unbreakable. I would survive this. Whatever they tried to do to me, I would survive it.

  In the end, my peaceful acceptance of everything they had to throw at me, every debased action, took away their enjoyment, showing them up as the animals they were.

  They left me in a heap on the floor, covered in my hair and urine, my body bruised and burned. I curled into a foetal position, one hand resting on my belly, and blinked away my tears. Under the watchful gaze of the camera I closed my eyes and, in the silence that followed, felt the first flutterings of my baby inside me, telling me it was okay . . . that we had survived.

  Chapter 34

  “Sam, fucking hell, fucking hell!” Elliott said, when he walked into the room and found me. “What happened?” He dropped to the floor beside me and cradled my body in his arms. “Who did this to you?”

  “Who didn’t?”

  “It’s a fucking disgrace.” He looked up at the camera, “a fucking disgrace.” He lifted me gently. “Animals!” he said when he saw the extent of the burns on my arms and torso, as he carried me into the shower.

  He washed me, tenderly, both of us sitting on the floor of the shower as he rinsed the marks of my mistreatment away before finding a razor and shaving my head until it felt smooth and even to the touch. “Still the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he stared at me, the water cascading around us as he sat there fully clothed. “Are you . . . Is the baby . . .” he whispered, the sound of the shower masking our conversation.

  “The baby is fine. They didn’t know. We survived.” He nodded.

  “Are you ready to stand?” I let him help me to my feet as he turned off the shower and fetched a large towel to wrap me in. He dried me off gently, finding yoga pants for me to wear and a sweatshirt. He located a pair of trainers in the wardrobe, and some socks, and helped me put them on, before grabbing himself a dry pair of scrubs to replace his sodden ones. “Come on, we’re leaving,” he said, taking hold of my hand and leading me out the room.

  “Where are we going?” I let him set our course. I had no fear anymore. I knew I’d survive.

  “I have no idea,” he said. “It can’t be worse than here, though, can it?”

  “No.”

  The wail of an alarm filled the hallway. “It’s an attack,” he said. “They’ve been building their forces outside the camp all day. I knew it would be soon. Their timing couldn’t be better. There’s a rear gate. I’ve got a key, and I left a car on the other side for us.”

  “How did you get a key?”

  “It pays to be one of the only men in a six-mile radius who’s still human.”

  I smirked. “Still rocking the surfer doctor charm.”

  He smiled. “Don’t knock it. You love it.”

  “Yeah, I kind of do,” I agreed.

  We walked through the camp, calm amidst the chaos all around us, as automatic gunfire rattled near the front gate. My new hair style worked in my favour, making me less recognisable. Elliott pulled his hood up, so no one bothered us as we strode towards the edge of the camp. “You sure about this?” Elliott said, once we were outside and in the car, the key in the ignition.

  “Completely sure,” I said, with no hesitation. “What about you? You don’t need to do any of this. They’ll all be after us. I won’t be able to hide the baby forever and the others won’t give up trying to get hold of it. I’m their only successful pregnancy that’s gone beyond the first trimester.”

  Elliott’s eyes widened at the news. “The only one?”

  I nodded.

  “Why you?”

  “No idea. Just lucky that way, I guess. Still want to come with me?”

  He locked eyes with me, his gaze solid. “I’m all in,” he said. “Always have been.”

  “Even with this?” I pointed at my belly.

  “It’s a piece of you. That’s good enough for me.”

  “Okay then.” I smiled.

  “Okay then,” he agreed, and started the engine.

  Epilogue

  I took a deep breath, pulling the bracing sea air deep into my lungs, wishing for the millionth time I had my camera with me, the landscape in front of me so spectacular I wanted to cry. Maybe it was just my hormones. We were somewhere in the northwest of Scotland. A place with few people and fewer CCTV cameras.

  “Have you seen this?” Elliott held up a newspaper. I missed his blonde locks. In sympathy, he’d shaved his head. We looked like escapees from the cancer ward, but it meant we’d kept off the radar for the last six weeks. He’d bought us both a pair of Doc Martens and some skinny jeans, and told me we should rock the skinhead look. That had made me laugh, a lot.

  The paper showed a picture of me. From before. And Ella. She was accusing me of killing her baby. Apparently, I was wanted for manslaughter. It didn’t surprise me. Nothing surprised me anymore. It was a blatant ruse to get hold of me. Both sides were at it. Only the fact we looked so different had allowed us to evade capture for this long.

  “So are we going to do it?” Elliott asked.

  “It’s not a reason. It shouldn’t be a reason.”

  “It is a reason. It will keep you safer for longer.”

  “Can’t we just keep wearing the rings and pretending?”

  “We need paperwork. You know they’ve started checking.”

  “We’d have to give our names. Then they’d have us, and we’d have to run again. They’d look at CCTV images and know what we look like now. We’d be found.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed after a pause. “I just kind of liked the idea anyway.” He patted my now slightly protruding belly. “And so did Bean.”

  “If we marry it will be because we want to be married, not because we’re hiding from anyone.” The change in the legislation, allowing married couples to continue in monogamous relationships, was what had saved us. We were hiding in plain sight, wearing wedding rings and pretending to be a couple. For now.

  “When we marry, you mean.” He smiled at me, then something over my shoulder caught his attention.

  “Time to go?” I knew the expression. We’d drawn someone’s notice.

  “Time to go.”

  We walked back to the car holding hands.

  A light mist was blowing in from the sea – a sea fret. The rapidly cooling moist air a reminder of that day so long ag
o. The tendrils curled behind us, as Elliott accelerated away. I knew we’d be found . . . sometime . . . maybe soon. The odds were certainly not in our favour. But not today. I patted my tummy, feeling the baby kick back, and smiled. For now, life was good, and for that I was thankful.

  The End

  Coming Soon

  Still Born

  Author’s Note

  It takes a village to write a book.

  It’s not an original saying, but it is a truism. I couldn’t have written this without all the help I received. Physically and emotionally.

  First of all, Katie, you always give me confidence in my writing and help me to make it better. Nicky and Patrick, for helping me make it look professional, and designing me a wonderful cover.

  Mum, I was ready to shelve this book. You made me believe it was good enough to put out there, and supported me to do so. Hurry up and retire so we can do this all the time.

  My wonderful, wonderful critic partners. You came into my life just when I needed you. Now, I wouldn’t be without you for the world. I’m looking forward to our trip – a lot!

  Lastly, my husband. For putting up with me, when writing drags me away. For letting me believe I’m good enough and always supporting me. One day I hope I’ll write a book as good as yours, if not as important.