by Ryan Casey
“So what we chasin’? Rabbit or wild berries that make me shite outta my eyes?” James asked.
Tamara laughed. She was about to reply when she heard movement behind her.
Twigs cracking underfoot.
“You’re not chasing a fucking thing,” an unfamiliar voice said.
The next thing she felt was a hand around her mouth.
CHAPTER TWO
IVAN
Ivan watched the flames flicker in front of him.
He’d always liked that sound. Sound of fire crackling. The gentle warmth, not just to its feeling but to its smell, too. The smokiness of it, it provided a sense of comfort, of reassurance that everything was going to be okay. Took him right back to his childhood. Camping trips away with his parents. Singing songs with some of the other kids from the site as they held marshmallows over an open flame. Laughed. Stared up at the stars without a care in the world.
He found himself falling into the flame in front of him when he scratched the tip of his tongue against the dagger-like teeth in his mouth. The reality of his present form came staggering back to the forefront of his consciousness, angry and unavoidable.
He sat by the car stoking the fire. Riley was opposite him. It was a pleasant spring morning, so a few of the others—Tamara, James, Andy and Jordanna—they’d gone into the woods to find some breakfast. Doctor Ottoman was doing some morning meditation bullshit. Chloë was in the car, still sleeping, although every time Ivan turned and looked at her, he swore he saw her eyes twitch.
Then again, that was understandable.
He was a monster.
And now he had the physique to accompany the darkness inside him.
He glanced over the top of the flames and caught Riley looking into his eyes.
He expected Riley to look away, just like everyone else did. Because Ivan had to look intimidating. He had to look like a beast.
But he didn’t. He just sat there stoking the fire, staring back into Ivan’s eyes.
Ivan felt his insides turn. Still wasn't sure how to feel about Riley. About being with his group. ’Cause in a way, he was responsible for Ivan’s current predicament.
If Riley hadn’t turned the Fulwood Barracks upside down, Ivan might still be there leading the place.
If Riley and his people hadn’t gutted that place—his pride—then maybe Pedro would still be alive.
Maybe all would be well.
“What happened to you?” Riley asked.
Ivan wanted to respond. He wanted to tell Riley everything. For as much hatred he felt towards this man, he felt something else, too. A gratefulness. Because before he’d met Riley—before Riley left him for dead in that freezer room back at the barracks—he’d been heading down a rocky path. He was too far gone.
But Riley gave him a chance to survive. A chance to escape. Find his family. Find Mary and the boys dead then wrap a noose around his neck and step off the edge of his table.
Then he’d found Nick and Abigail. Found those wonderful children.
They’d given him something to fight for.
They’d given him life.
Hope.
Goodness.
And now they were gone.
Ivan opened his mouth to respond to Riley but doing so was difficult, painful even. Five of his front teeth were gone, replaced by the piercing daggers of those monsters, those “Orions.” Some of his molars had been removed too, so he could constantly taste blood leaking into the back of his throat.
“You don’t have to speak,” Riley said, as he kept on stoking the fire. “You just have to reassure me that you’re with us. Truly with us.”
Ivan closed his mouth as well as he could. He felt a lump building in his throat. All his hate for Riley was being replaced by something else. Confusion. Gratitude, even.
“Back at Worthington’s,” Riley said. “At the docks. When I killed those bikers. The ones who stood down. You told me I didn’t have to do it. That I shouldn’t play God. Shouldn’t take their hope away. Because people change. People find something to live for.”
Riley paused, like he was waiting for Ivan to fill in the gap. Ivan didn’t say a word.
“Well, you were right. I was wrong. To do that to those people. ’Cause I’ve seen it now. Seen how it is. It’s kill to survive, sure, but not just—just kill to feel good. Not just kill to make yourself a little more secure. It’s about self-defence. Self-preservation. And I was wrong to kill those people ’cause they weren’t a threat to me. They weren’t a threat to any of us. Not anymore.”
Ivan watched Riley stand up. Rub his hands together. It was sunny, nice, but a little on the chilly side. Over in the woods, Ivan could hear footsteps. Doctor Ottoman mumbled stuff under his breath. Chloë kept on “sleeping.”
“Because if we take away people’s chance then how does that make us any different to Mr Fletch? No matter what he says, his way isn’t the future. I think you see that now. I know I see—”
“Some … times. Just gok to … go wig gut.”
Ivan surprised himself by speaking. Pain wracked his jaw, split through his gums with every word, every off-intonation. He tasted blood growing stronger, felt its warmth trickling onto his tongue from the roof of his mouth. And he knew right then as Riley stared him back with surprise, with horror, that this was just the way his life was going to be from now on. Miserable. Painful. Monstrous.
And he deserved it.
For failing Nick and Abigail.
For what he did back in the barracks to people who trusted him.
For taking away their choice.
“We’re heading back to the MLZ. Place I told you about. Dunno what kind of condition it’s gonna be in when we get back, but at least it’s somewhere.” He paused. Looked back at Ivan. “You … you can come back there with us. If you want.”
Through the pain and the agony, Ivan felt his eyes building up with pressure, stinging with tears. He looked up at Riley and he wanted to thank him. He wanted to thank him so much for keeping him alive. For giving him a chance. And for helping him, once again.
He was a good man.
He was about to force open his jaw and apologise when he heard a scream from the woods.
“Help!”
Then a gunshot.
He froze. So too did Riley.
“Was that what I think it was?” Doctor Ottoman asked, walking around the side of the car, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.
Riley grabbed a pistol they’d stolen at the BLZ from the car. Threw it to Ivan, then grabbed another for himself.
“That scream,” Riley said. “It … it was Tamara.”
He clutched the gun in one hand, the metal shard in the other, and jogged towards the woods.
Ivan hesitated. Sat by the glow of the crackling fire and watched Riley run into the trees, the gunshot still ringing in his ears.
He let the warmth in for a moment. Let the comfort seep inside, cool him, cleanse him.
Then he squeezed the gun. Squeezed it so hard that it bruised the palm of his hand.
Stood up.
Ran after Riley, into the woods, towards whatever awaited.
CHAPTER THREE
RILEY
Riley sprinted even faster into the woods when he heard Tamara shout a second time.
He rushed through the loose branches, which scratched at his face, scratched at his body. He could hear footsteps behind him—Ivan joining him, coming to help him.
But it didn’t even matter if he had been alone.
All that mattered was Tamara.
He couldn’t leave any members of his group behind.
He couldn’t leave anyone to die.
As it went silent, and a chill worked its way through the bright spring morning, all kinds of scenarios pummelled around Riley’s head. He’d heard a cry for help and then he’d heard a gunshot.
And the first thing Riley could think of was James.
What did he really know about James?
Sure, he
seemed a decent enough guy. He’d bailed him out and saved his life back at the BLZ.
But what did he really know about him?
He ran quicker through the woods. The branches thickened around him, thickened so much that he grew disoriented. He’d heard the gunshot around here somewhere. Definitely around here. But there was nobody here at all. Not a sign of life. Not even a footprint in the soft ground to suggest anyone had been here.
It was silent. Lonely. Dead.
He tightened his grip on the gun. Turned in a circle. Behind him, he saw Ivan heading through the trees, getting closer to him.
He was about to tell Ivan to change direction and check out another part of the woods when he saw the leaves ahead rustle.
Riley focused on the leaves. It was some kind of evergreen bush. Big enough for someone to hide behind. Big enough for Tamara to be behind.
Struggling.
Dead.
No. He couldn’t accept that. Couldn’t let that happen.
He moved slowly towards the bush. Made sure his footsteps didn’t crack any branches underfoot. The silence was intense, tangible. Not even the birds were singing now, as the sun shimmered through the trees, as the wind sent fallen leaves tumbling across the woodland floor.
Riley got closer to the bush. Pointed the gun. Readied himself for anything—as impossible as that was.
Because nobody could be ready for anything. Not in this world. Not anymore.
He looked over his shoulder. Ivan stood just behind him, the gun pointed at the bush. And as awful as he looked with those sharp teeth, with his own blood rolling down his chin, Riley figured that look might just take him far in this world. Take all of them far.
He kept the gun pointed at the bush and nodded at Riley.
Riley nodded back.
Turned to the bush.
Held his breath.
Tickled the trigger.
Stepped around the bush.
The first thing he noticed was the woman.
She was young. Pretty. Dark, curly hair down to her shoulders. Very skinny. Bright blue eyes.
Bluebottles swarmed her bloated, pale skin.
A gaping hole had been torn wide open in the middle of her chest, right down to the bottom of her stomach.
Inside it, a dead, blood-drenched rat.
Riley felt an instant wave of nausea and sickness crash against him. He hadn’t even noticed the smell before. It might’ve been there, but he’d been way too focused on finding Tamara, way too driven on saving his friends, way too desensitized to the scent of death.
But now he’d smelled it, he couldn’t get it out of his nostrils. He couldn’t get the taste of death from his mouth. This poor girl. Something had happened to her. Something terrible had happened to her.
His heart skipped a beat.
Something had moved behind this bush.
He still hadn’t seen what moved behind this bush.
He heard whispering to his right. Swung around. Movement.
Pointed his gun. “Hey!”
Nothing.
Nothing but silence.
Nothing but the gentle breeze brushing through the branches.
He wafted a few of the flies away and turned back to Ivan.
Froze.
Ivan was gone.
His heart really did start to pick up now. Fear built up inside him. Fear, accompanied by the deafening buzz of the flies, the morbid smell of death in the air. The taste of vomit tingling his trachea.
He lowered his gun. Turned, started to head in the direction he’d heard Tamara’s scream from—or at least where he thought he’d heard Tamara’s scream from.
Flies batted against his face.
The smell of rot followed him.
He thought he saw movement in the trees with every step he took. Thought he heard branches snapping, twigs cracking underfoot. And he felt something. He couldn’t explain it. Like a presence. Like he was watching porn with headphones on and his dad was standing behind him sniggering away.
Someone watching.
No—following.
He looked back over his shoulder at the bush where he’d found the girl.
His skin turned to ice.
There was a man standing there.
Long, straggly hair.
Wide, vacant brown eyes.
A look of blankness on his dirt-smeared face.
He stood and stared at Riley from the other side of the bush and Riley stared back at him.
Riley lifted his gun.
Pointed it at the man.
And then he felt something crack against his back.
Tasted the damp, soily earth as he fell against it.
Felt his gun fly away.
“Get your hands behind your fucking back and do as we say,” a voice said. A woman’s voice. Shit. She sounded tough. Tough as fuck.
She spun Riley around. He couldn’t make out her face properly, not after the collision with the ground, not after the immediate knock to his head.
But behind her he could see Ivan. James. Tamara.
All on their knees.
All with guns to their backs.
“You’re gonna pay for what you did to her,” the woman said, before spitting in Riley’s face.
“We didn’t—”
But then she punched Riley in the face. Hard. Harder than anyone had ever hit him.
As stars filled his eyes, he caught a glance at the bush. The bush where the man had stood. Where he’d stared at Riley with those dead eyes. Those damaged eyes.
He was gone.
“Tie him up,” another voice said. “’Bout time he answered for what he’s done.”
The woman stared down at Riley. He could see her now. Ginger hair. Muscular arms. Piercing green eyes.
“Not ’til I’m done with him,” she said.
And before Riley could protest, she cracked him in the jaw again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Riley kneeled in the damp soil and stared at the gun barrel pointing right between his eyes.
The woods were silent but the tension in the air was deafening. Riley, Ivan, Tamara, James, all captured, all kneeling, all with guns pointed at them.
Four people opposite. Two men, two women.
Mean-as-fuck looks on their faces.
The ginger woman who’d kicked the shit out of Riley kept her gun steadily pointed right at him. Any flinch, he had no doubt she wouldn’t hesitate pulling that trigger. He could see it in her eyes. A look he knew he’d had in his own eyes many times before. Kill or be killed. Kill to survive.
Not to mention the beating she’d given him. That was quite a statement of intent.
Riley struggled to take in deep steady breaths, but his nose was stinging and swollen, blood pouring out of it. “We’re not who you think—”
“Incorrect fucking answer,” the ginger woman said.
She pulled back the gun and cracked Riley across his left cheek.
Taste of blood grew stronger.
Stinging spread.
Head ached like a bitch.
Riley turned back to face her. He could barely see her through his left eye now. Wondered who’d look the most monstrous out of him, out of Ivan.
“We spend three days in these woods and lose four people,” the ginger woman said.
“Kelly,” the bald man beside her said, visibly less comfortable.
“Let me finish,” Kelly said. She walked closer to Riley. Kept her gun pointed to his neck. “We lose four people. Four friends. Four fuckin’ family. Then you show up with this … this …”
She looked at Ivan and Riley knew the word she was looking for right away.
Monster.
“I know how it looks,” Riley said.
“Oh you do, do you? Well, that’s good. That’s fuckin’ good. But it ain’t what we want to hear.”
“Kelly, what if—”
“Shut the fuck up, Stephen,” she spat.
The older bald guy looked like he wanted to say someth
ing back to her. Instead, he closed his mouth. Backed down. The other woman and guy kept quiet, stayed shtum. The group dynamic was pretty clear to see.
“This is how it’s gonna go,” Kelly said, walking across the group, pointing her gun at James, Ivan, Tamara. “You’re gonna confess. Confess to what you did.”
Tamara joined in. “We can’t confess to something we haven’t—”
Kelly pulled her gun back. “Shut the fuck—”
“Hey!”
James stood up.
All guns turned on him, pointed at him.
“Get the fuck back on your knees!” Kelly barked.
But James wasn’t moving. He was standing tall. Standing firm. Standing his ground. Riley could see his face reddening. See the anger building up inside him. Protectiveness.
“You don’t lay a fucking finger on her, you understand?” he said.
“What?” Kelly said, half-smiling. “Like you didn’t lay a finger on us?”
“Maybe they didn’t—”
“Shut the fuck up, Stephen!”
She turned back to James. Lifted her gun. Pointed it right at his head. Stared into his eyes. “Tell you what. I give you ten seconds to stand there and explain what the hell you’re doin’ in these woods that doesn’t involve killin’ our people. If you’re bullshitting, I kill you. I kill your girl. Then I kill your friends. Starting now.”
James hesitated. “I … We … We—”
“We’ve been out here a night,” Riley interrupted.
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
“You speak to one of us, you speak to all of us,” he said.
Then he chanced something.
Something that he knew could backfire.
Something he knew could wind up getting him killed.
But something he had to try nevertheless.
He stood up.
He saw guns turn on him. Heard more of the opposing group shout at him, tell him to get down or he was dead, or all of them were dead. He saw forefingers twitching on triggers. Saw the look of fight or flight in the eyes of the silent duo. Saw the quivering fear of Stephen’s grip.
But still, none of them pulled the trigger.
None of them fired.
“We’ve been out here a night,” Riley said. “Now you can choose to believe that or not. Truth is we’ve done a lot of bad things—”
