by V. L. Dreyer
Every so often, I glanced back and saw the creatures chasing after me, but they didn't seem to be gaining any ground. The problem was, I couldn't keep that pace up forever, not with my head the way it was. Right at that moment, I was fuelled by nothing but panic, and as powerful as that was it wouldn't keep me upright forever. Stars began to dance around the edge of my vision, warning me that a faint was incoming sometime soon if I didn't stop for a rest.
But the moment I stopped, they'd be on me, and I'd be dead.
Even with my particularly good sense of direction, I had lost track of how far it was to home. It could be a kilometre, or it could be ten. I couldn't outrun them, so I'd just have to outsmart them.
"Okay," I panted. "Okay, think smart. What can you do that they can't? Um… aside from thinking. Love? No, that's useless. Christ, come on, Sandy." I paused for a moment to jump over a particularly wide crack in the road, then lifted my head and scanned the horizon for any signs of Michael. Nothing.
"Wait, no. Not nothing," I exclaimed. "Yes! Inspiration!" With an unladylike whoop, I channelled what little reserves of strength I had left into one last burst of speed, and raced towards the buildings in the distance. Even with my vision wobbling and my head throbbing in time with my racing feet, I could see that one of those buildings was a barn, with a pair of doors up high that indicated there was a hayloft above it.
The kind of hayloft that would have a ladder. A ladder that would require human coordination to climb. If my undead friends couldn't operate a door handle, then it seemed unlikely that they'd be able to climb.
Seconds later, I raced across the overgrown courtyard in front of the barn, and plunged into the pleasant darkness within. I felt instant relief, after being out in the sun's glare, like plunging into a cool swimming pool on a hot summer's day. My pupils must have already been dilated from the concussion, because it only took a second for my vision to adjust to the gloom; the first thing I spotted was a ladder leading up towards the loft, and safety.
I shoved my shotgun back on its shoulder strap and darted forward, dodging around a few rusted farming implements and pieces of equipment. Right behind me, I could hear the creatures screaming. Their prey was out of sight, but they were closing on me fast.
I threw myself at the ladder and raced up as fast as I could go, but not quite fast enough. I was one rung away from safety when I felt an icy-cold grip close around my ankle. I kicked out and felt my foot connect with something solid, but I couldn't see what I'd hit. It didn't matter; it was enough for me to pull free. A few seconds later, I was at the top of the ladder, and safely out of reach.
"Thank God," I gasped breathlessly as I threw myself onto the dusty platform of the hayloft. If there had been any hay up there before, it had long ago turned to mulch, then to dirt, and eventually to dust without enough access to sunlight and rain for the grass seeds lying dormant within it to grow. Frankly, I didn't care how dirty it was. I didn't care if there were slaters, spiders, or even wetas making their home up there. Anything was better than the mutants.
As if reading my mind, one of the creatures below me let out a blood-curdling screech, which was quickly answered by a second and a third. Enough light filtered in through the open doors for me to see them circling around beneath me, like sharks waiting for their prey to come back within reach.
A sudden flash of anger clouded my judgement. Before I realised what I was doing, I had my shotgun back in my hand, and trained on one of those circling creatures. The shot rang out in the silence like a clarion call, and sent birds shrieking up into the clear blue sky from their nests nearby. One of the undead collapsed in a mound of blackened blood, its limbs writhing and flailing grotesquely around its shredded torso.
"I am not prey," I growled, taking aim at a second undead. Before I could fire, it retreated out of my line of sight and left me seething in impotent rage. I lowered my gun and gritted my teeth, then took a deep breath to calm my tension.
"I've been prey before, but I won't be prey again," I said softly to myself once the blind anger started to drain away. "Never again. Not for you. Not for him. Not for anyone. I am no one's prey."
***
I sat for a while in that dirty hayloft to catch my breath, and let my spinning head recover. Just as I'd predicted, the creatures didn't seem to be able to climb up after me, nor could they jump high enough to put me at risk. I could still hear them growling and circling around below me, but it was a frustrated sort of noise that told me that they couldn't get at me.
Once I had my breath back, I inched back over to the edge to see if I could remove the ladder and haul it up after me. Unfortunately, it was firmly bolted to the deck, so it wasn't going anywhere.
"Well, shit – there goes that idea," I muttered to myself, then paused. "Sorry, Mum. I'm sure you'd understand. There has to be something else, though. Something I can use."
I drew a deep breath to steady myself, and hauled myself back to my feet. Now that I was relatively safe, the adrenaline was starting to drain away, and with it went the frantic burst of energy that had kept me going through the pain and the dizziness. I quickly searched through the equipment that had been stored in the loft, but came away with nothing more useful than an old shovel. Still, if I ran out of ammunition, I might need it.
I could feel my strength beginning to wane by the second, so I went over to the loft doors and tried to open them while I still could. They squealed in protest on ancient, rusted hinges, but with enough brute force I managed to let in the afternoon sun.
"Christ, that's bright," I mumbled, easing myself down to sit on the edge of the loft with my legs hanging over the edge. I wasn't a fan of heights, but I was too dazed to care. When I went to pluck my radio off my belt again, I found my fingers trembling uncontrollably. It took three tries before I managed to successfully line my fingers up with the receiver and press the button. "Michael? Michael, if you can hear me, please stop for a second. I need to talk to you. Please?"
The wait was only a few seconds in reality, but it felt like it took forever. Eventually, the radio crackled in my hand, and then I heard his deep, reassuring voice in my ear.
"I'm here, sweetheart. Are you okay?"
"I'm… I'm not doing so hot, to be honest," I admitted. "But I am kind of safe for now. I found the road, and I managed to get to a barn. I'm up in a hayloft, out of their reach. Apparently they can't climb, so that's pretty awesome. Downside is that I'm trapped up here. I have some food, but my water's almost gone. I managed to shoot one, but there are six more down there. I don't think they can get up here, but… I don't know."
"I'm almost there. You just need to keep it together a little bit longer, okay? Now, tell me exactly where you are."
"Yeah… yeah, okay. Yeah." I paused and blinked up at the sun, trying to get my bearings. "I'm a little bit north of the road that runs westward out of Ohaupo. There's a house. It used to be painted blue, but it's faded now. So, you know, faded blue. It has a collapsed roof in the front. There's a barn about a hundred meters further back. That's where I am. There are mutants in the barn, though. Be careful. I don't think I… I—" Tears welled up in my eyes. I knew I was rambling, but that was the concussion kicking in. "I don't think I could handle it if anything happened to you. I love you. I love you so much."
"Nothing's going to happen to me," he told me in that deep, husky voice that sent shivers down my spine every time. "I am coming for you, do you hear me? Just stay strong a little bit longer. I love you, too, and I won't let anything happen to you. Not again. Okay?"
"Okay," I agreed softly; the weakness I could hear in my own voice was alarming, but I was too exhausted to care. I switched the radio off and clipped it back onto my belt, then lay my head against the old wood and settled in to wait.
***
I had no real sense of time passing as I waited, drifting in and out of consciousness. Every so often, one of the mutants below me would snarl or yowl and bring me awake again, but I couldn't see what they were doing
. I could hear them circling below me, like a school of piranhas, just waiting for me to come down so that they could devour me.
"Leave me alone," I mumbled sleepily, closing my eyes. Maybe if I wished hard enough, they'd go away, and I could just go home. That'd be nice. I missed home. I missed Michael.
"Sandy? Are you still with me?"
"What?" I blinked owlishly, startled by the unexpected voice. It took a few seconds for my addled brain to comprehend that it was actually coming from my radio. I picked the radio up and pressed the receiver. "Hey, I'm here. Please tell me you're nearby."
"I am. I see you. Look towards the road."
I lifted my head and stared into the distance. My eyes didn't want to focus properly, but I could just make out the figure on the big quad bike, waving at me. Relief rushed through me as I raised my hand and waved back.
"Thank God. I don't feel good, and the barn is full of mutants. What do I do?"
"I'm going to give them something else to worry about," he answered, his voice deep and commanding even through the radio. With a direct line of sight to him, the connection was as clear as a bell. I could almost feel his arms around me… right up until he threw a spanner in the works. "You just get ready to jump."
"Wait, what? Jump?" I shot a glance down at the ground below me. "Are you crazy? That's gotta be like three, maybe four meters."
"Don't jump now, silly," he answered dryly. "Just get ready. I'll tell you when to jump."
"I'm not sure I like this plan, but… okay," I agreed grudgingly. "Be careful."
While he was doing whatever he had to do, I quickly unloaded my shotgun and shoved the spare rounds back into my pocket, then strapped the gun to my back. If I was going to have to fall that far, then having the gun loaded was a terrible idea, even with the mutants swarming below. Besides, Michael said that he had a plan.
Once I was ready, I inched close to the edge of the platform and watched him getting ready. I couldn't see the details, but I could see him doing something with an object in his lap. Suddenly, he looked up and waved at me, then I faintly heard the sound of his bike revving up.
A few seconds later, he turned the bike around and tore across the overgrown fields that separated the barn from the road. As he drew closer, I realised that I could see his M-16 resting across his lap, ready for action at a moment's notice – and there was something else, something that I couldn't quite make out.
He came on hard and fast, at an angle that kept him out of the direct line of sight of the things inside the barn. At the very last moment, he took a hard turn to the left and came to a halt directly below me. Shrieks of what sounded like either hunger or rage filled the air. Michael didn't even hesitate. He threw the thing he'd been holding into the dark recess of the barn, and then lifted his gun and opened fire.
The sound of bullets filled the air with their terrible tattoo, and I smelt the stink of gunpowder on the air. Then, I realised that I could smell something else, something familiar. It took a second for me to realise that it was gasoline. Just as that realisation struck me, an explosion ripped through the back end of the barn below me, and the smell of gasoline was replaced by one of burning.
Michael shoved his gun back on its shoulder strap, and looked right at me. "Jump!"
"But--" I started to protest, but the rapidly spreading fire drowned out my words.
"Just do it!" he shouted over the noise. "You trust me, don't you?"
A second explosion shook the barn, and very nearly made me lose my seating on the edge of the hayloft. There was no choice. I had to do it. I had to trust him. I took a deep breath to steady myself, then shoved myself off the ledge. For a second, I felt the sickening sensation of falling, but it barely lasted long enough for me to start panicking. A moment later, I felt strong arms catch me and suddenly I was enveloped in warmth.
"You're okay, I've got you," Michael whispered in my ear as he sat me down on the seat in front of him. I started to say something, but a third explosion left my head ringing and my mind unable to focus; whatever I had been intending to say vanished like water through a sieve.
It didn't matter, though. Michael had me. He helped me get comfortable on the seat in front of him, and reached around me to grab the handlebars. I heard the bike rev up, and then we were off at high speed, heading for home. The motion made my stomach reel in protest, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Relief was a tangible force inside me, so overwhelming that all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around Michael's waist and bury my face in his chest.
So, I did. There comes a time in every person's life when they need someone else's help to survive. This moment was mine.
That's what having a family is for, isn't it? The bike was too loud for me to bounce my thoughts off Michael, so I didn't even try to speak. It had taken some time for me to acknowledge it, but they were there for me in my darkest moments, to help, protect, save, and love me. How had I survived for so long without that safety net of social acceptance?
Hard questions. Shut up and rest, brain, I scolded myself, then I closed my eyes and let myself relax.
CHAPTER FOUR
At some point during the trip back home, I fainted. Even if I'd been aware of it happening, I probably wouldn't have been able to do anything about it. As far as my body was concerned, enough was enough; it was time to rest.
When I started to come to again, I could no longer hear the sound of the bike, just someone moving around nearby. I opened my eyes slowly, then immediately regretted it. The world around me spun like an out-of-control roller coaster. Someone must have heard my groan, because I felt a hand alight softly on my shoulder.
"Don't try to sit up," Doctor Cross said quietly. Curiosity overwhelmed my urge to avoid the dizzying sensation, so I opened my eyes again and carefully looked around.
I was lying in my own bed, in the loft above the DVD store, but the place looked like it had been converted into a triage unit. Supplies, primarily medical in nature, were stacked up along the walls, and beside me lay Anahera's still form. She was still unconscious.
"Is everyone all right?" I asked, my voice coming out far huskier than I intended. The doctor nodded, and put a glass of water against my lips. I drank gratefully, then lay my head back on the pillow and looked up at him.
"More or less, yes," he elaborated. "I haven't seen this many concussions in one room since the time my son dragged me off to watch a roller derby match. Everyone is alive, though."
"And they'll be all right?" I repeated, glancing towards the enigmatic woman that lay beside me. "What about Anahera? Is it serious?"
"She's the only one I'm concerned about at the moment," Doc admitted. "Everyone else is going to be fine. Only time will tell for her, though. The human head is a delicate object, and she sustained quite a severe injury."
"I need to get up, doc," I told him, shooting him a pointed look. "How long do I have to wait until it's safe to do so?"
"Until you feel better," he gave me a stern frown in return. "Your sister has everything under control. Stop worrying and rest."
"Ugh. Don't wanna." I sighed heavily and closed my eyes. "You know, I'm actually kind of surprised that Maddy didn't warn me that this was going to happen. She was pretty spot-on about the fire."
My answer was silence. After a few seconds, I opened my eyes and looked up at him. Eventually, he glanced at me and shrugged. "I don't know what to make of Madeline's… premonitions, to be frank. I am a man of science. I believe what I can see, touch, and feel."
"I know exactly what you mean," I replied sympathetically. "If you'd suggested I'd be taking guidance from a psychic kid six months ago, I would have laughed at you. Well, there isn't much we can do about it now, is there? Tell me what happened while I was away, Doc."
"That much I can do." The portly gentleman hiked his scratched glasses a little higher up his nose, and sat down on the bed beside me. "Things went as well as can be expected in your absence. The Yousefis have done nothing to violate our trust, and have been
working hard to make up for what they did."
"Good." I nodded, gesturing for him to continue. "How are we for supplies?"
"Better than we initially thought." He gave me a rare smile. "I might even venture to say that we have been very, very lucky, considering the circumstances. The fire started in the kitchen, and consumed most of Skylar's room. We've been able to clear enough debris to get inside, but it's still fairly hot. The storage rooms have survived mostly intact. With the exception of what was in the refrigerator, our food supplies should be fine – though, everything may taste like barbeque for the next few weeks."
"We're going to need to find a new food supply before then." I paused and did a quick head-count, then grimaced. "We've got twenty mouths to feed, including Anahera's men. There isn't enough here to last more than a fortnight, and that's if we ration it to the mouthful."
"You plan to keep them, then?" Doc stared at me, his expression thoughtful. "Somehow, I'm not surprised."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, giving him a quizzical look.
"Well, you and the boy do have a habit of picking up strays." Suddenly, the old man chuckled and shook his head. "Just where are you planning to put them all, Ms McDermott? We didn't have enough room for them before the fire. It'll be near-impossible to house them all now."
"I don't know," I admitted. "I just know that we need to find somewhere safe and secure. I want to build a city, Doc. These people are the future of humankind; we need to find somewhere safe enough to put down roots, and plan for the next generation."
"Bold, idealistic, and slightly naïve," he summarized dryly. "Sounds like just what we need."
"Hey, if you have a better plan to save us from extinction, I'm all ears." I stuck out my tongue and blew a raspberry at him. Despite the childish gesture, he actually paused to think about it for a second.
"I don't," he replied thoughtfully. "Frankly, it's a valiant plan. I have no idea if we can achieve it, but we do need to try." His affirmation surprised me. I shot him a startled look, and caught him smiling. Before I could say anything else, he put his hand on my shoulder. "Go to sleep, Sandy – or is it Sandrine now? You'll need your strength if you're going to lead us to this idealistic new world of yours."
