by Ryan Casey
She lifted it and cupped it in her hand when she heard something else.
Gunfire.
Then something closer.
Footsteps.
Shouting.
She looked out of the window. Tried to see what was going on.
There was smoke in the sky right nearby.
Something was burning.
She went to pull herself away from the window when she saw something else.
An older man called Trent. He was being chased through the streets by a woman in a white dress.
Tumbling over.
The woman landing into him and stabbing him repeatedly.
Bella let go of the curtain and moved back. She covered her mouth. Heart pounding. Head spinning.
They were under attack.
Someone was here, and her people were under attack.
She glanced at that sharp shard from the mirror in her hand.
Then she looked back at the curtain.
She was frozen with fear, with a lack of understanding. She didn’t know what to do, only that she needed to get out of here.
She went to climb off her bed when she heard it.
First, the door opening.
Then the footsteps.
Footsteps in her caravan.
Someone was here.
Chapter Sixteen
Jack heard the gunfire spraying towards the caravan site and he knew he had to get away.
The two people who were by Matthew’s side were walking towards the caravan site, slowly, methodically. There was no emotion on their faces as they pulled the trigger, getting closer. It looked routine. Like they were just doing what they had to do.
Matthew stood there, totally still, hands on his hips, just watching.
There was a smile on his face that told Jack everything he needed to know about what kind of a character he was—if he didn’t know that already.
He looked around. Saw people he knew trying to run away; people he knew falling. Some were being captured and taken somewhere. There was no sign of Hazel, Candice, or Emma. He didn’t see them fleeing, but he didn’t see them lying on the ground either, so that had to count for something.
He knew he only had one choice right now. There was no use in fighting. They were outgunned. And the caravan site behind them, he could smell the flames and hear the shouts.
They were outnumbered.
There was nothing they could do.
They had to run.
But before Jack could run, he thought of something else.
Something that made his stomach sink.
Villain.
Villain was outside his caravan. He didn’t want to bring him along to this meeting. He didn’t always like him trailing at his feet. Especially not when it was so intensely warm.
He was on his own.
He needed to get to him.
He needed to make sure he was okay.
He looked around again, tried to see his people as those bullets peppered all around him.
Wherever his people were, they weren’t here.
He could deal with that later.
Right now, he needed to get to Villain.
He ran away from the gunfire, towards the caravan site. He passed bodies on the ground. Some were dead. Some were still twitching.
Every step was torturous. These faces he recognised. These people he’d lived with for the last three months.
And with every step, he dreaded finding Candice, or Hazel, or Emma, or…
Bella.
Shit.
Bella.
She was back at the caravan. She didn’t want to come out, not after what happened to Harry.
She’d have no idea what was going on.
She’d be trapped.
He reached the end of the little row of caravans where he lived and he thought about stopping and going after Bella, making sure she was okay.
But when he went to make a move to her caravan, he saw something else.
There were two of those people in white cloaks right down that street.
They were holding long blades.
There was someone in the road beside them. Someone they’d killed.
They were right by Bella’s caravan.
Jack wanted to go over there and fight them.
But at the same time, he was outnumbered and he only had a knife to defend himself with.
There was no way he was fighting them off.
He looked to his left.
Looked over towards where he knew Villain was.
Where he knew his caravan was.
And he saw there was nobody there. Not right now.
He had to find Villain.
And only then could he think about fighting his way out of this place.
He raced down the road, past more caravans. The air was thick with the smell of smoke. All around him, he heard desperate cries. Gunfire rattled and echoed across the landscape from the two with rifles that’d been by Matthew’s side. Everything they’d worked towards, everything they’d built, all of it was falling apart; all of it was crumbling amidst the confusion and the chaos.
And the worst thing about it?
Jack knew this day was coming.
He knew the safety and the strength of this place was nothing more than an illusion.
He’d been trying to warn of that for a long time.
But had his warnings been strong enough?
He said he’d been warning others about this place. But really he’d been happy to step in line if it meant he didn’t have to fall into the trappings of leadership.
He shook his head, kept on going down the road. He couldn’t dwell on that right now.
Survival was more important right now.
He reached the end of his road and he saw them.
There were three of them, right by his caravan. They were doing something in the road. It looked like they were trying to start a fire.
He stood there. Crouched by the side of the road. All he could do was watch them and wait for the right moment.
He saw them struggling to set that fire.
Saw them struggling to light it up.
And he felt himself flash back once again to the day his home had gone up in flames.
Standing there, holding that rifle as Bill struggled away amidst the flames.
Being forced to pull that trigger.
All going up in flames, once again.
He thought about Villain. Having to do the same thing. Make the same awful, impossible call.
He wasn’t sure he could.
Suddenly, the fire came to life. The three men ran away, off into the distance, away from the fire.
Jack tensed his fists.
This was his chance.
He raced his way down the road. Passed by more caravans. Some people were hiding inside them. Others were lying on the steps, wounded, or worse. It seemed like everyone had been affected in some way, whether they were dead or taken.
He thought about finding Villain down there in a similar state. He thought about what it would do to him. He’d never come back from it; never recover.
He kept on moving, the heat from the fire intense against his face, and then he stopped right outside his caravan.
He saw things in his mind’s eye. Villain lying there, dead. Or bleeding, whimpering.
But in a sense, what he actually saw was far, far worse.
He stumbled into his garden. Then he looked inside his caravan. All the while, the fire still raged, and the gunfire still echoed, and the screams still resounded.
He stepped back outside, his body shaking, and he looked at the leash where Villain had been tied up.
Villain was gone.
He was nowhere to be seen.
Chapter Seventeen
Emma watched the people around her fall and she didn’t know how to feel.
It was the sounds that got her most. The crying. The howling, like animals. She’d seen some awful things already since the power went out. She’d
been in a bus accident on the first day. She’d been stabbed. She’d been caught in a conflict between Logan and Jack’s people. And then she’d been forced to adapt to surviving alongside the very people she’d once been against.
She’d seen things she knew she should never have to witness.
But she’d never been through something like this.
The howls were what did it more than anything. She thought they were the animals at first. And maybe some of them were.
But it didn’t take her long to realise that the bulk of them were people.
People suffering.
People she cared about.
People she knew.
She wanted to get away from this. She wanted to hide.
But all she could do was watch.
She saw Jack running towards the caravan site. She knew he was a leader, but there was a problem. He didn’t want it, and he’d been through too much when he was leader that she understood why he didn’t want it.
He disappeared off into the distance.
She turned around. Saw those two people with the rifles getting closer. Bullets whizzing past her. She was frozen solid.
The main man. The one called Matthew. He was walking away now. Letting his people take lead. He didn’t look like he was holding Mrs Fuzzles anymore, but she hadn’t seen him let go of her. She hoped Mrs Fuzzles was okay, wherever she was.
Emma wanted to escape. She wanted to get away.
But at the same time, she wanted to make sure the other people here were okay.
In the end, she could only make one choice right now, and that was to run.
She turned around and raced her way back towards the caravan site. She saw death everywhere. People lying on the ground. Blood trickling from their fallen bodies.
The wails.
The cries.
The howls.
She tried to switch herself off from it. But all this time she found herself thinking of her family and her friends. She’d walked through Wigan when they were trying to find this caravan site. She’d walked right past her best friend Jade’s house. Past her old school. And a part of her felt like everything was going to be okay when she was back there. She was going to find them, and all was going to be good again.
But they were gone.
There was no sign of any of them.
No sign of her friends.
No sign of her old life.
She thought about her family as she ran too, and she felt a tear roll down her cheek. She tried to keep it under wraps and under control, but sometimes in moments like these she couldn’t fight it.
She missed her mum.
She missed her dad.
She missed them all.
She went to take a left when she saw three people standing there.
They were in the middle of the road. All of them were wearing those white clothes. They were splattered with specks of blood.
She looked at them as they watched her. Part of her prayed they hadn’t actually noticed her.
But then she saw them moving towards her and she knew she was too late.
She turned and ran right away, raced her way towards more of the caravans. She heard those footsteps behind her, racing towards her. She saw all this death around her and she wondered why it was and what it was for. Why couldn’t people just survive together? Why couldn’t they just get along?
She looked over her shoulder and saw those three people were closer to her now.
She ran around the side of one of the caravans.
Then she saw another man in the distance.
She stopped. There was no way she could get past him.
But at the same time, there was no turning back.
Not with those footsteps getting closer.
She backed up against the caravan and squeezed her eyes shut as her heart pounded against her ribcage.
Think, Emma. Think.
She saw Logan in her mind’s eye. Asked what he’d do at this moment.
What would you do? What would you?
Then she opened her eyes as the footsteps got closer and crouched down.
She dragged herself underneath the dusty, cobweb-ridden base of the caravan. The stones dug into her skin. Spiders scuttled away.
And she could see those legs racing towards her.
She stopped. Went totally dead. Held her breath. She knew this was mad. She knew it was a risk.
But it was all she had.
She heard those footsteps reach the front of the caravan where she’d been stood and heard them stop.
“Did you see which way she went?”
“I saw what you saw.”
“The stones. There’s footsteps in ’em. Leading off to the left, look.”
“Then what’re you waiting for? Get frigging moving.”
She held her breath. Colours filled her vision. Her head ached and throbbed. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed they disappeared, prayed this was over.
She listened to those footsteps head off into the distance.
But she didn’t move a muscle.
She just lay there and listened to the shouts.
To the gunfire.
When she was absolutely sure enough time had passed, she opened her eyes.
She didn’t see any legs around the caravan.
Didn’t see anyone at all.
This was her moment.
This was her chance.
She tried to move but something was stopping her. She felt that urge to just hide away until all this blew over.
But at the same time, she knew deep down this wasn’t going to blow over.
Jack was right.
She didn’t want to believe him, but he was right.
The caravan site wasn’t what they wanted to believe it was.
It was weak. Just like everywhere else.
What made any place strong were the people in it.
She dragged herself out from under the caravan.
Pushed herself to her shaky feet.
And then she went to run around the side of the caravan, noticing she was alone and that the coast was clear.
When she moved around the caravan, she stopped.
There was a man standing on the steps right by the caravan door.
He was looking at her.
Holding a knife.
Smiling.
“Going somewhere?” he asked.
Chapter Eighteen
Jack stood outside his caravan and listened as the commotion died down.
The afternoon was warm and stuffy. The sun was blinding and bright. There was no knowing how long the attack had gone on. All Jack knew was there was no resisting it. There was no fighting it.
There was only waiting for it to end.
A lot of the shouts had died down, as had the bulk of the gunfire. The fire outside his caravan hadn’t taken off either. Jack hadn’t seen anyone move past the front of his caravan for a while. He wondered whether the attack was over. Whatever the case, he knew those people would be back. They’d weakened this group. Torn it apart.
Whatever they wanted—if they even wanted anything beyond destruction at all—they weren’t going to give up until they had it.
He just found it strange that they’d attacked some and that they’d taken others.
He looked over at the leash where Villain had been tied to. Saw that empty collar. Regret filled him. He shouldn’t have let him out of his sight. He shouldn’t have left him alone. Another life he cared about that he’d failed.
He turned away from the leash and looked across the street at Hazel’s caravan. There was no sign of her, either. He knew he was going to have to go out and search for his people eventually, whoever might’ve survived.
He just couldn’t bring himself to face any more loss.
The caravan site was beyond salvation. Its time as a home was over. Some of the caravans were burning. People had been slaughtered in the streets. Some had been captured. Crops had been destroyed. Chickens had been stolen. Th
e weakness of this place had really been exposed for what it was.
There was bitterness from Jack. He knew if they’d listened to him, they would’ve left this place long ago. It wasn’t a long-term safe haven. It was fragile and imperfect, just like everywhere.
But the bulk of the bitterness was actually directed at himself. He knew he should’ve stood up. He knew he should’ve vocalised his concerns more.
He was as much responsible for this as anyone.
He couldn’t stop thinking of those words Candice had said to him. Even if she might’ve disagreed with him, she wanted him to stand up for himself when he believed in something.
He hoped she was okay, wherever she was.
He walked to the edge of his driveway, then. Looked down the road. Saw some bodies in the street. Saw a small fire burning away, swallowing up its surroundings. He smelled all kinds of things in the air—burning rubber, a metallic stench—and he knew he had to get out of here.
But there were people here he cared about.
People here he needed to find.
People he couldn’t give up on.
And a dog he couldn’t give up on, either.
He looked back at his caravan. It had served him well. Provided him shelter. Comfort.
But it was time to walk away from it, whether he wanted to or not.
He walked down his driveway, blade in hand, bag of essential supplies over his shoulder—first aid kit, water, a few other bits and bobs that might come in handy out there.
He had to find his people. No matter what it took.
He walked down the street. Past emptied caravans. He checked every single body he passed by. He recognised their faces. Gavin. Fern. Olivia. All of them people he used to walk past and eat with and joke with on a daily basis.
All of them, gone.
He reached the turn in the road and he looked at Emma’s caravan. He didn’t want to go in there. Didn’t want to find what kind of a state she might be in.
But he had to.
He opened the door and crept inside.
The place was silent. Which he wasn’t sure was a good thing at this point.
It could mean she wasn’t here.
It could also mean she was dead.
He searched the lounge, then the bathroom, then moved on to the bedrooms, one by one, holding his breath every step of the way.
