by Ryan Casey
“You’d have done the same in our shoes.”
Ian shrugged. “Maybe I would, actually. I mean, I dunno. On the one hand, I co-operate. I share. And I stay alive. On the other… I try something stupid and I almost certainly die, along with everyone I care about. It’s a tough choice.”
“We panicked.”
“And now you should be panicking even more. Because you’ve shown us very clearly that not only can you not be trusted, but you’re sloppy, too. And if there’s one thing I hate more than people I can’t trust, it’s people who are sloppy.”
He turned around to his people, rifle on his shoulder.
“So what d’you reckon we do, team? How do you reckon we go about things?”
A few glances. A few shouts.
Kill them!
Make ’em suffer!
“Okay, okay,” Ian said, chuckling. “How about we put it to a vote? Democracy is fair, after all. Okay. Who votes for… letting these people off the hook. Giving them another chance. Hmm?”
No hands raised.
Ian looked back at me. He licked his lips.
“Who votes that we kill them all right here and right now?”
Every hand raised.
Every single hand.
I heard the panic building behind me. I heard people beginning to run. And as much as I wanted to stand my ground, as much as I wanted to fight, I saw their artillery and I thought about Sarah and all the people I cared about and I thought about what I had to do.
Ian shrugged, smile on his face. “Looks like we’re taking the violent route.”
“Please,” I said. “I have a wife. She’s—she’s pregnant.”
Ian raised his eyebrows. “Shit. That’s… that’s really heavy. But I’ll make sure I make it quick for her. Don’t you worry.”
He pulled back his rifle and pointed it at my people.
“Run little pigs,” he said. “It’s time to find out what happens to people who step out of line.”
He pulled the trigger, and his people opened fire on my camp, on my people, on my friends.
And all I could do was run.
Chapter Eleven
I sprinted as fast as I could as the gunfire blasted all around me.
I couldn’t see Sarah anywhere. I couldn’t see Suzy or Ellie or Will or Kaileigh. All I could see were people running away, desperate to escape the gunfire. Blood spurting out of ankles as people fell to the ground. Heads bursting as bullets fired through them. All around me, death.
And all I could hear were the screams. The screams that I knew could belong to me if I didn’t get to safety fast; or screams that could belong to my family if I didn’t keep on going, if I didn’t find them, and if we all didn’t get out of here.
The smell of gunfire filled the air. All around me, more and more shots churned up the earth, but the bulk of those bullets were hitting people and I knew it. I knew I was on borrowed time. And I knew damn well that this place wasn’t going to be anywhere near salvageable, not anymore. I’d made the decision to leave this place instead of staying here and trying to find another way of doing things, and now the place was suffering for it—as were the people in it.
But at the same time, I couldn’t have known that Ian and his people were going to show up early. None of us could’ve accounted for that.
And yet at the same time, I couldn’t help feeling like we should’ve been better prepared for this option.
I felt something sear my left arm. When I looked down, I noticed my shirt sleeve was ripped, and a speck of blood was dripping down my arm. Only a graze. But it didn’t change the fact that had that bullet been just slightly to the right, it would’ve hit me hard.
I’d already taken one bullet since the end times began. I wasn’t all that enthusiastic about taking another anytime soon.
I threw myself behind one of the caravans. I crouched down, sliding down it, my breathing so fast I was almost hyperventilating. I could hear the continual gunfire, hear the panicked cries. And no matter what, I knew that Ian and his people would keep on coming. They would keep on pressing and pressing until none of us were left—because that was the kind of people they were.
I’d looked into Ian’s eyes and I’d seen enjoyment in what he was doing. I’d seen pleasure in his gaze.
And that terrified me.
But then I zoned back in and I realised what I needed to do, and fast.
“Sarah,” I said.
I turned to run around the left side of the caravan.
But then I found myself face to face with someone.
And it wasn’t someone I recognised.
He was tall. Wearing all black.
And he had a pistol in his hand.
He looked at me and a smile stretched across his face. “You,” he said. “You’re the one the boss wants to chat to. He wants to deal with you himself. So I suggest you come along now. No point fighting. Better off just putting your hands up and following me. ’Cause trust me. I’ve seen what Ian does to people who don’t comply. You don’t want that to happen to you too.”
My heart pounded. I could hear footsteps getting closer. I knew time was running out. I had to get to Sarah. I had to know she was okay.
But I thought about the best possible way of getting out of this situation, and I knew I needed to do one thing before anything.
I needed to earn this man’s trust.
I lifted my hands. “Please. Just… I need to know my wife will be okay.”
His smile widened even further. He walked over to me, put the pistol to my stomach. “Oh, man. Your wife’s probably long dead. And if she isn’t, then I’ll let you point her out to me and we can figure out a proper goodbye—”
I don’t know what possessed me to do it.
I don’t know what suicidal urge inside made me do it.
But I did.
I did.
I punched the man’s gun away from my stomach.
Then I swung my fists at him, beat him in the jaw, wrapped my hands around his neck.
“You stay away from my wife,” I said. “You stay the hell away from—”
A sharp kick between my legs.
My grip loosened.
Another blow, this one against my face.
And before I knew it I was falling back.
I tried to get to my feet.
But it was too late.
The man was standing over me.
He was pointing his pistol at me.
He wiped his bloodied nose and smirked, staggering from side to side. “Bad move, mate. Really bad move. I was gonna let you have a nice farewell with your wife. But now I figure I’ll just say you got caught in the crossfire anyway.”
He tightened his grip on the trigger.
I held my breath.
Then something happened.
I heard the bang. And for a moment, I thought it was the bang of the man’s gun, and that everything was over.
But then I realised it wasn’t the bang of a gun at all.
And the man wasn’t standing in front of me anymore.
Ellie was standing over the fallen man.
She had a huge chunk of metal debris in her hand.
And she’d bashed the man’s skull with it.
She dropped it, reached for the man’s gun, then held out a hand for me.
“Come on,” she said. “I might not’ve been sure about your plan originally, but I’m all aboard now.”
I grabbed her hand, struggled back to my feet. “Which plan’s that?”
Gunfire rattled all around us. The screams loudened. And the smell of smoke began to grow.
Ellie took a few deep breaths and walked to the edge of the caravan. Then she looked back at me. “The one where we get the hell out of this place. Now.”
Chapter Twelve
Sarah crouched in the back of the barn and listened to the shouts and cries outside.
She was in with the cows, which wasn’t exactly ideal. She’d read a news story once that more peo
ple in the UK were killed by cows than any other animal. It’d be typical if, upon trying to hide from a gun-wielding mob outside, she ended up being trampled to death by livestock. Just typical.
She heard the shouts and she tried to suppress herself from throwing up. But she could taste the vomit creeping up her throat. Didn’t help that it smelled in here with the cows either. But truth be told, anywhere was better than out there right now.
Not that she didn’t want to be out there. She wanted to stand up to these invaders. She wanted to fight. She wanted to hold a weapon and lead her people to revolt against them. Because this was her home, and these thugs had no right storming in here and taking it away.
But at the same time, as much as Sarah’s instinct was to fight—as much as her instinct always had been to fight—she knew she had other things to think about. She had other responsibilities to consider.
And the biggest responsibility of all?
The person growing inside her belly.
Her child.
She closed her eyes and held her breath. It sounded like the gunfire was slowing down outside. She had to hope that was the case. But at the same time, she didn’t want to go out there. She didn’t want to see the ruin.
She didn’t want to find out she’d lost more people.
Or, God forbid, she’d lost Alex…
“No,” she said. She shook her head, took in a sharp inhale. Then she looked around, all around at the cows and her surroundings. The cows were looking at her with curiosity. One of them was sniffing at her, then at her stomach. She knew the behavioural patterns of cows, having owned them herself for a while, then looking after these. They only attacked when their young were threatened. And there were no young calves around. Besides, they didn’t seem to be acting too threatened right now. Just curious like the cliché.
She wondered whether they’d heard the blasts and whether they realised just how much danger they were in. Because they were all in this danger—together.
She took a deep breath and stood. She couldn’t hear gunshots anymore. Instead, a silent echo had taken the place those shots had once filled. She could still hear crying and screaming. She could still hear pain; pain of the people she knew. And she just had to hope that the casualty level was lower than it sounded. Because right now, it sounded like a lot.
But she knew one thing for sure.
She had to go somewhere else.
She had to find Alex
She had to—
Right then, she heard the door to the barn open up, the metal scraping against the ground.
She froze. She didn’t look over at the barn door. She couldn’t bring herself to.
So instead she just crouched down and curled up right at the back against the wall.
Her baby so close to her in her stomach.
She heard the footsteps walking slowly through the barn, and she knew right away that this wasn’t good. This was one of Ian’s people, scanning the supplies. It had to be. Nobody walked with that calmness in the wake of a situation like the one that had just happened. Nobody moved with such steady composure.
She heard whistling then, and she froze completely.
She saw the cow ahead of her walk over to the front of its enclosure, looking over at the man who was walking around the place. She felt exposed, like she needed it there to protect her somehow.
But she couldn’t do anything.
Nothing but stay put.
Nothing but stay silent.
Nothing but…
She heard the footsteps and the whistling moving around the side of the barn she was on.
Her stomach sank.
The man was getting closer.
She realised she couldn’t just sit here, not anymore. She had to do something. She had to be proactive, somehow.
It wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t going to be pleasant.
But one way or another it was going to keep her alive.
She stood up a little, started creeping over to the other side of the enclosure. She could see a working cattle prod. She knew if she got to it, she could use it to defend herself.
The footsteps were so close. The whistling was so close. The cows were mooing in full force.
But Sarah kept on moving towards that cattle prod.
She kept on going because she had to. She didn’t have a choice.
When she got to it, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders.
Then something happened.
The prod slipped from her grip.
It clattered against the floor.
The sound echoed right through the barn.
She stood there for a few seconds, heart racing. The footsteps had stopped. The whistling had stopped. And she knew why. He’d heard her. He’d heard her and he was going to come over here—only he knew now that someone was in here. He’d be ready. He’d be prepared.
She held her breath and waited for those footsteps to come her way.
But they didn’t.
In fact, something entirely different happened.
The whistling got further away.
The footsteps got further away.
The door to the barn screeched shut.
Sarah was totally still. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything.
All she knew was that the man was going to come back here at some stage.
He was going to come back here, so she was going to have to get out.
She held her breath. Took a few steps over to the front of the enclosure. If she had to run, she had to run. She just had to weigh up her surroundings. Just had to check for certain that the coast was clear.
She counted down from three.
Then she poked her head around the front of the enclosure.
The good news? The coast was clear. The man wasn’t at the door.
The strange news?
The pair of shoes, right by the barn door.
She heard a click, then.
Right behind her.
Close to her.
And at that moment, as she heard the muffled breathing, she realised exactly what’d happened, and what this was.
“I always knew the Dr Martens were a noisy choice,” the voice said.
A gun pressed to her head.
Chapter Thirteen
It wasn’t long before the gunshots stopped and still I hadn’t found Sarah.
The clouds above were thick and dark, bordering on jet black. All around, fallen bodies rested. Blood seeped down into the muddy ground. I couldn’t say how many had died in this attack. None of us could, not yet. And we weren’t even certain whether the attack was over, or whether Ian and his people were just taking a break of some kind. All of it had a nightmarish quality to it, as the smell of warm metal—blood—filled the air, as the taste of sweat and fear covered my lips. All of it made for a nightmarish cocktail, the worst thing I’d ever been a part of, the worst thing I’d ever witnessed.
Ellie was beside me. She wasn’t saying a lot, as we jogged together through the wreckage of our home. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder because every now and then, a stray bullet was fired, a reminder that this was actually far from over. Ian had been pretty clear when he’d said that they were going to destroy this place and everyone in it as a punishment for what we’d done in trying to get away from here, for trying to break free of his grip before it had a chance to tighten. But then again, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know whether to believe him.
It could all be just a way of asserting his authority over us. Of scaring those of us who were left into staying here and picking up the pieces.
But looking around at the fallen corpses, I wasn’t sure how many pieces there were left to pick up.
And still I hadn’t found Sarah.
“We need to check my caravan,” I said. “She—she might’ve gone there.”
I started running quicker, making my way faster towards mine and Sarah’s caravan.
But then I felt a hand grab me.
>
I almost spun around and punched whoever it was that’d grabbed hold of me, more out of sheer reaction than anything.
But then I saw that it was just Ellie after all.
“She’ll be okay,” Ellie said. “She’s a tough nut. Certainly a tougher nut than me. She’ll be fine. Just… just trust me, okay? She’ll be okay.”
I wanted to believe Ellie. I wanted to be able to show a sense of blind faith that Sarah and our unborn child would be fine.
But I couldn’t.
I had to know for certain.
I had to see for myself.
We rushed over to my caravan. I moved up the steps, right up to my door. And as I stood there, I froze. Because if Sarah wasn’t in here… then I didn’t know where she was.
And the thought of losing her all over again… the thought of it sent shivers down my spine.
I swallowed a lump in my throat, took a deep breath, and did the only thing I could do despite all the resistance inside me.
I opened the caravan door.
When I stepped inside, I don’t know what it was but I got a feeling. I got a feeling right away.
And that feeling told me that she wasn’t here.
She wasn’t here at all.
I searched anyway. Searched the lounge, the bedrooms, the bathrooms. And when I’d finished, I even searched underneath the caravan.
But it was no use.
Sarah wasn’t in here.
I stepped outside, Ellie still by my side. I could see the concern growing in her eyes and I wasn’t sure it was what I wanted or needed to see right now.
“She’ll be okay, Alex. Wherever she is, she’ll be okay. You just have to trust—”
“I’ll trust when I see her, okay?”
I started to walk around the side of the caravan, so I could search more of them, when something struck me.
It was a memory of something Sarah used to always say to me, back when we had our own homestead. She always said that in case of emergency, we’d go into the barn, hide out in there with the cows and wait for it all to blow over.
