The hammer came down.
Tom's knee erupted in pain. He scrambled back, each movement bringing fresh shards of pain and terror. He was lifted up and panic overtook him. He felt warmth spread throughout his crotch. The knowledge of his impending death did nothing to diminish its terror.
He was taken into another room and dumped roughly into a chair. He tried to get up, but his hands were bound with plastic that cut into his wrists. The man left for a moment, and returned with Leon, pulling him by his leg as his friend still fought for air through his bruised windpipe.
'What do you want?' Tom asked, but the man's only reply was a nasal chuckle.
He lifted Leon into a chair and tied his hands and legs as he had Tom's. Tom and Leon were now facing each other. Tom saw his own panic reflected in the eyes of his best friend, who started to take in air in deep, rasping breaths.
The man disappeared. Tom looked around him. The room was lit by three small candles, which flickered softly, revealing a spacious living room, almost identical to the one they had been in last night. There was nothing out of the ordinary, save for a duffel bag, out of which protruded the tip of a crossbow.
He pulled at the plastic ties, but that made them cut deeper. He looked down at his knee, but through his jeans it looked normal. He smelt his own urine and went back to panicking.
The man came back, carrying the knife block Tom had been so intent on finding when he entered the house. Leon let out a moan of despair.
'Okay, chaps,' the man said, his voice high and nasal. 'We're going to play a little game.'
He made a show of choosing a knife, holding it out for both to see.
'What do you want?' Tom asked again, his voice sounding far more desperate than he wanted it to.
'The good news,' the man replied, 'is that I'm not torturing you for information. By the looks of you, you'd have nothing to offer me. Unfortunately for you both, that doesn't mean I'm not going to torture you. But you can be safe in the knowledge there's nothing you can give me that'll stop me.'
He grinned. Tom's stomach turned.
'Why are you doing this?' Leon asked, his voice little more than a croak.
In a flash the man was on him, the blade of his knife held to Leon's eye.
'I haven't finished!' he roared, then stepped back. 'You two are going to torture each other, for my amusement. Whoever can present me with the face of his friend will live. Refuse, and you both die.'
He cut the ties binding them to their chairs, threw the knife to the ground and stepped back, pulling a pistol out of his waistband and brandishing it at them both.
Neither of them moved. Tom looked across at his friend and they both started to laugh. Tom couldn't help it, the laughs came thick and fast in his chest.
'You going to cut my face off, Tom?' Leon asked him.
'Er, nope. Not today, anyway. You?'
'Um, I dunno. Probably not though.'
They both laughed again. Tom tried to control the sudden onset of hysterical giggles, but it was like the time Leon had gotten him stupidly high, made him do poppers, and phone for a pizza. He couldn't control the waves of laughter, which turned to racking coughs.
'Mate,' Leon said, turning to their attacker, who still held his gun up at them both, but who'd lost a bit of his swagger. 'Look, you can do what you want to us, and I'm sure you will. I'd rather you didn't, obviously, but if you want us to turn on each other you're about three years too late.'
Their attacker continued to smile his rictus grin, but his eyes flickered between them, unsure.
'That man there,' Tom said, finally gaining control of himself, 'has had to physically carry me home when I was so drunk that I couldn't get a taxi because I'd been sick in my own hands. He's put up with me making him watch every single episode of The West Wing, twice, and since the apocalypse he's saved my life more than once. So you can go fuck yourself.'
The man laughed. 'So very cool, eh? Well if you don't want to play, so be it.'
He strode back between them both and picked up the knife. He raised it high and buried it in Leon's chest.
'Your loss,' he said to Tom.
He laughed, the sound mingling with Leon's dying howl and Tom's own screams.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Long Grass
After hours of walking along the same deserted country road, both Jen and Mira had run out of conversation, having long ago exhausted the topics of the pain in their feet, the gnawing in their stomachs and the dryness in their mouths. They'd drunk what water they had, and dumped the heavy bags, deciding they were too much to walk on with.
Jen didn't think it was possible to walk this far in England without seeing so much as a farm or a house, but here they were, trudging for mile after endless mile along a road whose surroundings alternated between light woodland and sparse farmland.
She looked back at Mira walking a few paces behind her. The young girl looked close to collapse, her expression fixed, eyes glazed and distant. Jen had to do something.
'You know what I miss?' she asked. 'Baths. Baths and books. I used to be able to lose an entire afternoon in a bath with a good book. Now I feel like I haven't washed in so long there might be things living actually on me. I may well have developed moss.'
Mira gave her a half smile. 'We'll find somewhere, won't we?'
She looked up at Jen with those great big dark eyes and Jen's heart sank. She stepped in and gave the girl a cuddle.
'Of course we will.'
A thin mist obscured the way ahead, but she was almost sure she could see a structure through it. She'd thought that a few times now, but every time they'd come within touching distance of whatever mythical building she thought she'd seen, it had turned out to be nothing.
'We'll be fine, honey.'
They walked on, and as they got closer, Jen could see it might be a real building. Five minutes later the Esso sign became a beacon, drawing them in. Mira even gave a startled giggle when she noticed it, and their footsteps quickened as much as they could, given the blisters on their feet.
They were so focused on the garage that the car was upon them before they even heard it, a sleek saloon that approached, at speed. They didn't have time to react to it, let alone get out of sight from the road. They stood dumbstruck, waiting for the car to pull up and some fresh hell to fall out of its doors.
It went straight past, paying them no heed.
'Holy shit,' Mira said.
'We should get off the road,' Jen said. She turned and watched the car as it carried on down the road towards the edge of visibility. She was about to let out a sigh of relief when, a mile or so away, the distance straining the limits of her eyesight, the glare of brake lights flared through the fog.
'Let's go,' she said. They moved away from the road, working their way through the rough grass. The going was rougher, but the renewed threat and the proximity of the petrol station spurred them forward. A few minutes later they were at the back of the building. Jen turned and looked back down the road. Sure enough she could make out the car working its way back to them, crawling along the road in search of them.
'Let's get in,' Mira said.
The door was open, and Jen's heart sank as they got into the shop. The shelves were mostly bare, aside for a few bottles of water. They grabbed a bottle each, pulled the top off and downed it.
'Chocolate!' Mira exclaimed, discovering a lower shelf of untouched confectionary. An entire Wispa magically disappeared before Jen's eyes. Mira smiled at her, her mouth full of chocolate. Jen looked at her goofy smile and remembered she was still a child.
'They'll be here soon,' she said.
She noticed the dead cashier sat at his post for the first time. The shutter to the cigarette stand was down.
'I've got an idea,' she said.
She jumped the counter and pulled up the shutter, being careful to avoid the dried out corpse. Whoever had ransacked the shop had taken their favourite brand, but most of it was still there, endless shiny packets
of nicotine. More importantly, there were boxes of lighters, matches, and even lighter fluid.
'Ooh, do we have time for a fag, do you think?' Mira asked.
Jen laughed. 'Are there any toilet rolls or anything?' she asked.
'Um,' Mira replied, looking around. 'Oh, yes!' She threw a four pack of Andrex at Jen.
Jen looked out the window and saw the saloon pulling up outside.
'Shit,' she said. 'Get behind here, quick.'
Mira saw the car and jumped the counter. Jen grabbed a lighter and some fluid, pulled the shutter down and crouched down out of sight. Mira crouched down too. Jen grabbed her hand. The door opened, and Jen heard what sounded like two people enter.
'Fucking hell, if there's a Ginsters stand in here I'm going to eat so much pastry I'm going to burst,' came a first voice, deep and booming.
'Given it'll have been sitting unrefrigerated in a hot room for a fortnight or so, swelling and bursting is not out of the question,' another voice replied; another man's, quieter than the first. Neither of them sounded like the man who'd killed Sam.
'I think you're underestimating the great Ginsters pasty,' the first voice said, 'Ginsters remain edible for entire millennia. They aren't made of food, but some kind of immortal science sauce.'
'Yeah well,' the other voice replied. 'I don't think you have to worry about that anyway.'
'Oh, bollocks.'
Jen let out her held breath, as quietly as she could. They didn't seem to be looking for them, but how could she know? She tried to picture the two men, but all she could see were two Ewens, stood leering on the other side of the counter, waiting for her to show herself.
'Piss,' said the second voice, disappointed. 'At least tell me there's some cigarettes left?'
'Let's have a look.'
Every muscle in Jen's body tensed. One of the men moved closer. He leaned over the counter, his thick black jaw just visible, his hand stretching out to the shutter in front of her.
Without thinking, she summoned all the force she could muster and punched upward, her fist connecting with the man's chin. She felt his teeth knock together through her hand and he fell backward, out of sight. Mira was so shocked at Jen, she actually gave a startled laugh. Jen felt adrenaline coursing through her, and an instant regret. The sound of a gun cocking echoed in the room.
What the hell did you do that for?
'Hey!' one of the men called out. 'Who the fuck is back there? Come out now, with your hands up.'
'Really?' Jen replied, astonished anyone would actually say that, and still filled with the adrenaline that overrode her fear. 'That's what you're going with? Come out with your hands up?'
'Well, yeah,' the man replied.
'What, like you want us to believe you're police?'
'Well, as a matter of fact.'
Jen's heart soared.
Police! Real life actual police officers!
She looked at Mira, who shook her head.
Of course. Why the hell should I trust them? They could be in full-on bobby outfits and it wouldn't mean jack shit.
'Bullshit,' she replied. 'Look, you and your friend get back in your car and piss off, yeah?'
'Why exactly should we do that?' Burnett said.
Jen grabbed a roll of toilet paper and the lighter fluid. Mira pulled open a pack of deodorants stashed under the counter.
'Well, because there's nothing here worth taking as you can already see, and we've got a shitload of paper towels, lighter fluid, and matches back here.'
'Let's go,' the other voice said. He sounded pissed off.
'In a second,' the other man replied. 'Miss, we will leave in a second. We mean you no harm, I promise. But before we go, we're looking for a man. Mid-thirties white male, brown hair, glasses. Anonymous seeming but with a serious nasty streak. Don't suppose you've met anyone like that on your travels?'
The words dropped on her like an anvil. Was this real hope, or another trap? She looked at Mira, her face full of panic. She heard the men turning to leave.
Decision time, Jen.
'Wait,' she called.
'What are you doing?' Mira hissed
'Trust me,' Jen said.
'I do,' Mira replied. 'It's them I don't trust.'
'Look, we're putting our guns down, okay?' the man said.
Jen gave Mira and imploring look, and the young girl responded with a resigned shrug.
'Give me a deodorant,' she said, and Mira handed her one.
She stood up, holding a lighter and the spray can in front of her, and Mira did the same. Before them stood two men, a huge black guy rubbing his jaw, and a dishevelled-looking middle-aged white guy, who had his hands held aloft. A gun lay at each of their feet.
'Hi,' the second man said.
'Hi,' she replied.
'I'm Detective Burnett, and this is PC Tana,' he said, his hands still raised.
'You're sticking with that story, are you?' she asked.
'I have my ID somewhere if you don't believe me,' he said, although he made no motion with his hands to get it.
'Was it him you were you looking for?' Jen asked.
'What do you mean?'
'Back there, on the road,' she said. 'We were walking along the road when you drove past, and you turned round and came back. What were you looking for?'
'Yes,' he said. 'We've been looking for someone. There's a killer on the road.'
'Is his brain squirming like a toad?' Jen replied with a laugh. The faces of both the would-be policemen and her travelling companion showed their confusion. 'Not Doors fans? Never mind.'
'As I said,' Detective Burnett continued. 'There's a lunatic out there and we've been trying to find him. You know, like policemen do? You two are the first people we've seen in days, so we wanted to know if you knew anything.'
She paused. 'We know where he was last night,' she said.
The detective looked at his partner.
'Listen,' he said, lowering his hands. 'I'm not going to make you come with us, not if you don't trust us, or if you don't want to. But it would be a big help if you could show us exactly where you saw him.'
'We'll go with you,' Mira said immediately. 'On one condition.'
'What's that?' Burnett replied.
'When you catch him, you let us watch you kill him, or better yet we get to do it ourselves.'
Jen stared at her companion and felt her jaw go slack. Mira's face was set with a grim determination she'd not seen before.
'Fair enough,' Burnett replied. 'You ladies fancy a drive?'
Chapter Twenty-Six
Landmine Spring
Tears streamed down Tom's face, stinging the fresh cuts on his cheek.
'Please,' he said, his voice barely making it through burst lips and bleeding gums. 'Please just let me go.'
He had no idea how long he'd been there. The only thing he knew for sure was that he'd never understood the concept of pain before, not truly. Even in the weeks since the storm, he'd experienced nothing to compare with the slow raking of dull blades across his chest, the extraction of healthy teeth, or the sight of his best friend's corpse sat in front of him.
All these things and more he'd now experienced between blackouts, but whether they'd been over the course of hours or days he could no longer tell. He thought back again to the headless corpses they'd found in the house. He no longer feared that end. He just wanted an end.
'What was that?' the man replied.
Tom stared back with as much intensity as he could muster. Over these hours or days he'd learnt a fair amount about his attacker, beyond his obvious penchant for sadistic violence. His name was Ewen, and he just loved to talk. Tom preferred the talking to the pain.
He'd heard speeches on how the world had ended, on how much Ewen liked to torture animals, on how many people he'd killed – even speeches on particle physics. He didn't care what Ewen talked about, those were the moments when he could gather his strength, apart from the one occasion when Ewen had delivered a rambling
speech about his father's sexual predilections whilst cutting slices into Tom's arm.
'So what's next, Thomas?' Ewen asked. 'Maybe we could cut out your kidneys, eh?'
'Or maybe,' Tom said, 'you could just go fucking fuck yourself.'
That earned him a punch to the face. He closed his eyes for a second, and when they opened he was still staring at Leon's body across from him, a deeper wound inflicted than anything he'd endured since.
'How about this?' Tom continued. 'How about I tell you about the man you killed? A man who never so much as hurt a single person, who managed to survive the end of the world, only to be killed by an emotionally-stunted loser who's mad at his parents.'
Another punch, this time to the stomach. Another to the face, reopening an earlier cut and sending a fresh stream of hot blood into Tom's eye.
'Don't think for a second you can get me angry enough to cut short what's coming to you,' Ewen said, leaning forward.
'I have no intention of letting you kill me, you scabrous wound,' Tom replied, spitting blood from his mouth. 'I still fully intend to make you pay for what you did to my friend. I just haven't worked out how to do it yet.'
Hubris, perhaps, but it made him feel better.
If he was going to escape from this, he had no idea how. His hands were bound again. His solitary hope had been that the rest of his travelling companions would burst in en masse and overwhelm Leon's killer, but if that were going to happen, it would have happened a long time ago. More likely they'd taken the opportunity to flee, and who could blame them? Survival first. He just wished he'd thought of that.
'Do you think this is why you survived?' Tom asked. 'The end of the world rolls around and you decide that's your cue to whittle the numbers down even further?'
'Why not?' Ewen replied.
'Well, because it's bloody stupid, for one thing.'
Ewen snorted.
'What,' he sneered. 'You think I should be out there helping people? What people are these you think I should be helping? Braying idiots wandering around like headless chickens? People so stupid they'd actually put a wastrel like you in charge?'
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