IMPACT_A Post-Apocalyptic Tale_The Complete Series

by Matthew Eliot

  Claudio pushed them in the opposite direction. “You get out through here!” They entered the kitchen, and the air was a little clearer now.

  The priest knelt down, coughing into his elbow, and shoved a carpet aside. Beneath it, Dimwit saw a hatch.

  “Where’s this go?” he called above the rumble of the fire.

  “It’s a tunnel. Been here for centuries. It leads out of town.”

  “Can’t we just go out the window?” asked Dimwit, peering down into the dark opening. The fire was terrifying, but the darkness was too.

  “They’ve surrounded the church!” Claudio shouted.

  Luke looked at him, eyes red and watery. “But maybe if we–”

  “Listen kids,” the priest thundered. “If you stay, you die.” He shook his hand in the air, frustration mounting. “If you go through here, you might make it!”

  Suddenly, a section of the ceiling came crashing down. A thin white mist now mingled with the smoke, making it even harder to breathe. They looked up, and saw that the flames had spread across the roof above them.

  “GO!” shouted Claudio.

  Luke grabbed his arm. “Aren’t you coming?”

  Claudio shook his head. “I’m not leaving, son.” These words were so strong, so resolute, they came like punches in the chest.

  A loud crash was heard from the church – a beam had come down in flames.

  “You leave now, okay?”

  Luke and Dimwit nodded. For a second, the old priest considered their expressions, then dipped his chin. “Okay. May God protect you!”

  “And you,” cried Luke. Dimwit didn’t know what to say.

  Then, the priest turned, and ran out of the kitchen. He vanished in a cloud of smoke.

  “Climb in!” shouted Luke, pushing Dimwit towards the opening. Dimwit hesitated. Perhaps they could still make it, if they climbed out of the window and ran.

  “Wait!” he called, and rushed to the window, peering outside. “I can’t see anyone! Let’s go through here!”

  Luke shook his head, pointing downwards. “Claudio said we have to go through the tunnel!”

  Dimwit persisted. “Come and see for yourself!”

  Luke walked hesitantly towards the window, and the boy stepped back, to make room for him. “You see? No one. Let’s go through here!”

  They heard calls and shouting coming from the front of the church. But out here, they couldn’t hear nor see anyone.

  Dimwit extended a hand. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to do. Maybe simply get the other ’wraith to understand, to shake him out of his doubt. Clearly, it was better to run away through there, than disappearing inside that freaky dark tunnel. He was about to say so, when the whole ceiling collapsed.

  * * *

  Luke stared at Dimwit, standing by the window. The boy was terrified of the tunnel, but Claudio wouldn’t have suggested that route, had it not been safer.

  He walked towards the young boy, and looked outside. It was hard to see through the smoke, and a wall concealed part of the view, but the boy was right: it did look like no one was there, although he couldn’t be entirely sure.

  Luke felt the pressure of Dimwit’s hand on his arm, but the feeling only registered for an instant. Then, something hit him hard on the head, pain exploded in every corner of his body, and Luke found himself on the floor.

  The ceiling had collapsed, bringing down chunks of flaming wood along with it. And now he couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. He tried shifting his weak arms, but they were wedged under a large piece of concrete. Something white and pointy was resting on his arm. At first, he thought it was a piece of the ceiling. But when he looked closer, he noticed it wasn’t. It was a bone, his bone, that had torn through his skin.

  Dimwit shrieked. Luke looked up, the pain unbearable. The boy was unscathed. He stood a few feet away, eyes wide and hands covering his mouth. The flames were spreading fast.

  “Go, boy, go,” Luke said in a whisper.

  Dimwit stood staring, torn between trying to help Luke and going. He began to kneel half-heartedly, fearfully eyeing the all-devouring fire.

  Luke shook his head. It’s no use, boy.

  A beat. Then Dimwit turned and ran towards the hole. Before disappearing, he threw one last glance at Luke. A glance filled with fear, remorse, dread of death. The boy vanished.

  Then, there was only the roar of the flames.

  Luke realised he’d somehow always thought he’d have time to say a prayer, to kiss his loved ones, before he died. Despite the impact and the violence that had followed, he’d pictured his death as a peaceful one.

  The pain was unbearable, but his mind was already elsewhere. “Ana”, he whispered, as tears rolled on his searing skin.

  His Ana, so strong and beautiful. And so far away, now.

  Too far to say goodbye.

  * * *

  Cathy knew before she even saw it.

  Before, that is, she turned that last corner, to witness the church being devoured by the flames. She already knew. Yet, she dared hope she was mistaken, that the smoke was something else, maybe a bonfire arranged to get rid of the leftovers of war. But there it was.

  A crowd had gathered, and was being held at bay by the soldiers with their rifles. Some shouted, but it was out of fear, rather than to challenge the soldiers. More pale faces stared at the scene, hidden behind fluttering curtains. They dared not leave their homes.

  Bately’s old church was going up in flames. Their tall quivering tips rose high, blowing out gushes of searing heat.

  Cathy dashed forward, elbowing her way through the crowd. She noticed familiar faces, all terrified, all incapable of doing anything, just as she was.

  “Halt!” cried a soldier, as she broke out of the crowd. He pointed a rifle straight at Cathy’s face. She stopped, feeling her heart overflowing with helpless anger. “Stay where you are!” he ordered, jabbing the weapon’s muzzle towards her.

  One of the soldiers, a woman, was standing between them and the church. She held a megaphone to her lips, and spoke feverishly above the howling flames.

  “Rejoice, people of Bately! We’re finally ridding your town of this lurid den of lies and treachery!” Her eyes were full of insane rapture. “No longer will you have to put up with the vile fabrications of its preacher, or bow to its repellent cross!” The woman turned towards the church, and raised one hand in the air, as if to embrace the flames. “Witness the death of the old gods, Bately!”

  Cathy noticed Neeson, standing in the front of the crowd, on the other end. Their eyes met. We have to do something, his stare said. Maybe not now, but something must be done.

  She nodded at him. Yes, they would find a way to free the town from these people.

  Then, her eyes were suddenly drawn in the opposite direction, towards the castle. A silent figure watched the scene. A motionless silhouette standing at one of the tower windows. It was him – the man they called the Warden.

  The woman in black was drawing a breath, ready to address them again, when the church door came crashing open.

  Claudio was standing there, clothes wrapped in flames. The crowd gasped, as his eyes surveyed them. How can he still be alive? Cathy wondered in horror.

  The old priest raised an accusatory finger at the uniformed soldiers, and he suddenly reminded her of some mythical prophet of doom. Claudio then let out a scream that would haunt Cathy till the end of her days. She would never know if it was one of rage or pain.

  The soldiers raised their weapons towards him, and opened fire. The shots rattled through the whirling heat, and Cathy fell to her knees and covered her eyes, for she could no longer bear to watch.

  Chapter 10

  Paul

  Paul had to slap himself to keep from falling asleep.

  He tried to figure out how long it had been since he had last slept, but it was hard to concentrate. There was too much to think about, too many sad thoughts crying for his attention. He brushed them away. The children. That was al
l that mattered – finding the children.

  At first, he thought he might be able to track their movements, find a trail in the mud. A few times, he thought he had, but there was no way to be sure. It was the stuff of films, after all: discerning footprints in this sea of mud and grass. Not something you could do in real life. Certainly not he.

  He’d set off towards Tonbridge, avoiding the main roads. Alice and Adrian were cautious, and he thought they’d likely opt for the safer, more concealed routes. Paul marched on, desperately hoping he was on the right track.

  It was high morning when he heard the cries. A female voice, not far from where he was standing.

  Alice? His heart began pounding hard inside his chest.

  He shook his head, tried to clear his mind.

  No… this was a grown woman, not a child.

  Paul made his way through a hedge, and noticed he’d been walking along a main road. The cries were coming from a field on the other side.

  Leave. You need to focus on finding the kids.

  He paused, trying to decide what to do. Whatever danger this woman was in, he might be able to help her, although he couldn’t allow it to take up much of his time. Also, she might be able to tell him if they’d walked past here.

  His mind was made. Paul crossed the road, carefully studying his surroundings, making sure this wasn’t a trap. But it wasn’t.

  The woman, a worn, tired figure in her thirties, was sitting next to a man. He was lying on the ground, eyes closed. Paul couldn’t tell if he was alive or not.

  “Hello? Ma’am?” he said cautiously, as he approached them.

  The woman looked up at him. Streaks of tears ran down from her eyes, drawing trembling lines in the dirt that covered her face. She stared at him, as if trying to decide whether or not he was really there. Paul noticed that the man was breathing. Slow, wheezing intakes of air that made him shiver. This man was in desperate need of medical assistance.

  “Can I help?” he asked, although he knew there was little he could do for her. He wasn’t a doctor, and wouldn’t know where to begin.

  The woman looked at him, then turned away, staring blankly ahead. Paul stepped closer, hands extended before him to show he meant no harm. “Ma’am… I’m looking for two children. A girl and a boy. I really need to find them,” he said. “Did you by any chance notice them go by?”

  Silence. She rested a hand on the man’s rasping chest, but kept her eyes focussed ahead of her. Ignoring him.

  “Please, I…”

  “They went past here, yes,” the woman said. Her voice was croaky, tired. “A few hours ago. The sun wasn’t high yet. Not sure how long it’s been.”

  Paul knelt down beside her, his heart racing. He was on the right track.

  Thank you, Lord. Thank you.

  “Did you speak to them? Did they say anyth–”

  She finally turned towards him. The sadness on her face was almost unbearable. “No,” she said. “They left. I can’t blame them. It’s a cruel world, out here.” She smiled sadly, and held the man’s hand, rubbing it gently with her thumb.

  “Do you know where they were heading?” he asked. It felt awful to sit there and keep asking questions, but he had to.

  The woman waved a hand in the air. “That way. Not sure were they were going. They were sweet, nervous. Considered lending a hand, I think. I could tell the boy cared for the girl.”

  Paul sat down. He observed the man. His eyelids were trembling feverishly, as if he were having a nightmare. Beads of sweat covered his forehead.

  “He’s my husband,” the woman whispered.

  “What happened?”

  She sighed, pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “We were in Tonbridge. Lived there for eight years, from before the impact.”

  Paul felt his stomach turn to stone. That was where the children were heading.

  “It was safe,” she continued. “We had strict rules. Harsh rules, really – no one would be let in, under any circumstances. We had food from the fields, goods from before society fell apart. It wasn’t too bad.”

  A long pause. A breeze brushed past them, setting the lock of hair on her head loose again. She didn’t bother adjusting it this time.

  “I heard about Tonbridge,” Paul said. “People said it was safe, yes. What happened?”

  “Those soldiers in black,” she began, then brought a hand to her lips, closed her eyes tight. Fighting back the tears. “They came… had weapons. Three days we fought, but had no real chance.”

  The man coughed. A moan rose from his throat, then faded out. She peered down at him, and ran loving fingers through his hair. “He’s my husband,” she repeated. “Richard. On the third day, early in the morning, he grabbed me and said there was no way we’d make it, if we stayed. No way we could beat those people, whoever they were. We decided to escape.”

  Paul knew he had to go, but the woman’s voice was so soft, his feet so tired, he couldn’t get himself to move.

  “We managed. Richard led the two of us to a passage, on the south side of town. Fighting had been concentrated elsewhere. We slipped through, unseen. At least, we thought we had…” Her lips quivered. “One of them was patrolling the area. Spotted us and fired. No warning call – just the sudden burst of the bullets. Richard was hit. I wasn’t. He didn’t even cry, or raise his voice. Keep running, he told me. It doesn’t matter, keep running. And we did.

  “We got away. When we finally managed to stop to gather our breath, I saw he’d been shot in the leg and in the chest. He told me it wasn’t bad, but I knew it was. After a while, he couldn’t walk any more. Lost consciousness. So I built this silly stretcher and pulled him as far as I could.” She turned to Paul again. “But I can’t… I can’t any more.”

  Paul nodded. There was nothing he could say.

  Then, the woman seemed to suddenly remember something. She pulled out a satchel, and drew an object from it. It was a gun.

  Paul shuddered, and instinctively withdrew, getting away from the weapon. But she didn’t point it at him. She just held it there, in her open palm, eyes glued to its sinister design. Paul was about to ask the woman to put it away, when she lifted her hand, offering it to him.

  “Would you?” she asked softly.

  It took him a few seconds to understand what she was asking of him. The question hung there between them, its silent echo terrifying. “No,” Paul whispered. Then he cleared his voice, spoke louder, looking her in the eyes. “No, please. You don’t want that, not really. Plus, I could never…” he considered it for an instant – taking the gun from the desperate woman’s hand, and ending their lives. His skin crawled with terror.

  With slow, cautious movements, he removed the weapon from her hand, and tucked it away in the satchel again. “Listen,” he said gently. “I’m going to find those children. I have to. But I’ll be back, I promise. When I do, I’ll help you. We’ll find a safe place, and do our best to cure your husband.” He tried to sound confident. More confident than he actually felt.

  Her eyes were hopeful, but veiled in tears. “Will you really?” she asked.

  Paul rested his hand on her shoulder. “Absolutely. I will.”

  Her eyes lingered in his, studying him. Then, she looked down, nodding quietly.

  “Okay?” Paul asked. “Try and resist another day. Then, we’ll find somewhere safe.” He stood, suddenly eager to set off, to try and catch up with the kids. The sooner I find them, the sooner I can come back and help her. But, deep down inside, he knew he shouldn’t be promising. Another quick look at that man told him he wouldn’t live. Not enough to get him help, anyway.

  The woman raised her chin, bidding him farewell. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  Paul headed back across the road. He looked behind him, when he got to the other side. The woman was sitting as he’d left her, stroking the man’s dark hair.

  Then, he thought about Alice and Adrian, and began walking again. He walked, leaving the woman and her sadness behind him. He w
alked, despite the pain in his heart and his legs.

  And he kept walking even when he heard the two solitary gunshots echo through the cloudy skies.

  Chapter 11

  R3dPill

  As the world tilted upwards, Sean felt something in his stomach come loose.

  The plane shook violently as they lost contact with the bumpy surface of the field beneath them. They were in the air.

  Outside, the earth was sliding away at impossible speed. Growing smaller and smaller, scaled down by the distance. The engines’ roar shook his chest, and he couldn’t help but grip the armrests. He held them so tight, it hurt.

  Then, from one second to the next, they were in the clouds. Thick menacing clouds rushing past his window. Rushing past, but somehow still there, wrapping the plane in a whirling mist of black and gray. Sean squinted, tried to pierce them, but he couldn’t see beyond inches past the outer window.

  It began to rain. Huge drops of water showered the aircraft, battering its surface. He saw thick rivulets pour across his window, slipping away diagonally, disappearing in the ghostly void that surrounded them.

  Is this normal? he wondered. Beside him, Checkmate’s face was as pale as a sheet. He too was clutching the armrest. No – not normal. He felt like screaming.

  Again, the plane shuddered and Sean felt pulled and pushed in every direction. He tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Nor could he breathe. He dared not to, an irrational fear bringing him to believe the aircraft’s precarious balance would vanish if he did.

  The two boys couldn’t keep their eyes off the dark mantle beyond the window. It somehow felt like they had not only left the ground behind them, but Earth all together, and now darted blindly in a very different planet, one where nature was fierce and all-powerful. Up here, Colossus, Nero and Europa’s impact seemed to have just occurred, to be happening over and over again, the force of their arrival reverberating through the skies.

  Sean’s eyes whipped over to Jeremy. He wanted to shout at the old psycho, curse him for having dragged him on this reckless journey.