by Ryan Casey
He’d have to make sure he changed that.
“Keep it slow. Keep it steady. We’re gonna have to investigate this.”
Harry kept on moving, slower now. He could still hear the laughter. Still hear the celebration.
And he could hear something else.
“Is that an engine?” Billy muttered.
The second Billy said the words, Harry heard it clearly.
An engine. It was an engine. Revving away.
“But how’s there an engine working?” Gav said. “I thought all electricity was down?”
Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. Then he began his walk once again. “I reckon we’re about to find out.”
The further up the hill he got, the clearer this engine-revving got. It was a weird place for any kind of engine—right at the top of a hill, right near a cliff.
But as Harry got closer, the sun’s orange glow beaming over the ground below, he stopped.
There was a small building up ahead. Hardly big enough to call a “house.” But it looked neat. Like a sort of log cabin. Off the beat and track, sorta thing.
“Is that where it’s coming from?” Billy asked.
He needn’t answer the question. Because Harry could see it, now.
The garage.
The garage where the engine revving was coming from.
And then, just in sight, the kids around it.
Harry felt a smile creep up the corners of his mouth. Because he recognised these kids. They were the same ones who’d fled when they’d taken one of their people—this girl right in front of them.
They were supposed to learn a lesson.
Well, let’s just hope they’d learned it by now, or they were going to be getting a much harder lesson very soon.
“What d’you reckon?” Gav asked.
“I reckon we take it,” Harry said. “We take the lot of it. It’s ours now.”
Mike
Earlier…
Mike watched the armed group approach the bike shop and he kept as still as he possibly could.
The late afternoon sun cast a foreboding glow over the group. Their guns. That was the main sticking point. They were proper military rifles, the kind Mike had used when he was in Afghanistan.
He felt himself shaking a little upon seeing them. They brought back too many memories. Memories not just of holding them, but of seeing them on the ground when his friends had died.
Memories he’d rather forget.
The group got closer to the bike shop. The leader—a bald guy with tattoos on the side of his head—stopped outside it and smiled. He certainly didn’t look military. If anything, he looked…
“Prisoners,” Alison said.
Mike frowned. “What?”
“I recognise two of those guys. I locked them both up. Prisoners.”
Just hearing that made Mike’s stomach turn even more. Prisoners were escaping the prisons, which was good news for nobody. And it really went to show just how far this electrical blast went; just how widespread the repercussions actually were. Because this was serious. There were locks on doors for a reason. And the people who’d been in prison, whether they knew what was going on or not, they weren’t going to sit back and wait to be locked up again.
They were going to make the most of the chaos while they could.
Mike crouched behind a vending machine, joining Alison, Arya, and Richard.
But he found himself looking at that girl again. The one he recognised.
The ginger hair. The pale skin. The tape over her mouth.
And then it clicked.
It clicked like a punch in the gut.
“That’s… that’s one of Holly’s friends,” he said.
Alison frowned. “What?”
“Holly. My daughter. That’s… that’s one of her friends. One of the ones she usually stays with.”
Alison didn’t respond, and neither did Richard. Both of them were just trying to hold on to Arya, trying to keep her under control.
But Mike’s vision was blurring. The tension was building up inside. “They’ve… they’ve got one of her friends.”
“Mike,” Alison said.
“They’ve got one of her friends. I need to do something.”
“Right now, the best thing you can do for everyone is to stay quiet and stay calm, okay?”
Mike’s fists tensed. He wanted to go out there. He wanted to beat this bastard up for capturing one of Holly’s friends… and for whatever he might’ve done to Holly.
But Alison was right. They were armed. And he had nothing right now. The odds weren’t in their favour.
So all they could do was wait.
Wait for an opportunity.
Mike held his breath. His heart raced. All he wanted to do was to go out there, to confront these guys as they laughed and joked like they owned the frigging world.
But then something unexpected happened.
Alison took Mike’s hand in hers and she squeezed.
He felt butterflies in his stomach. He looked at her, wanting to pull the hand away.
But then he saw her smile and mouth the words. “It’s okay.”
And as much as he wanted to resist, as much as he didn’t want to bond with anyone, to get close…
He found himself letting Alison hold his hand. And he found himself smiling back.
The men got closer to the bike shop window. One of them leaned inside, their gun just inches from Mike’s face.
He held his ground, kept low, stayed as silent as possible and prayed Arya wouldn’t make a noise.
He had to be prepared to react.
He had to be ready to—
“Screw this,” one of the men said. “I can’t even ride a fucking bike anyway. Besides. We’re heading uphill. Not so fun on bikes.”
And right on cue, they turned and they walked away.
But not before firing a few shots into the air.
Mike felt a combination of emotions. Fear. Relief. A bit of everything.
But above anything, he felt a resolve.
A newfound resolve to get to Rocky Cliffs.
To get to the log cabin Richard was leading them to.
Because these people. These gun-wielding nutters. They were heading uphill too. So God forbid they might actually run into them again.
He let go of Alison’s hand. Stood up. Made sure the armed group were well out of sight.
And then he looked back at that bike he’d selected.
“We take an alternate route,” he said. “We get there as quick as we can. And we make sure we’re ready.”
Richard frowned. “Ready for what?”
Mike climbed over his bike as he pushed it out of the store. “Ready to defend ourselves.”
Holly
Holly cracked open the beer can lid and wondered whether getting drunk on the first real night of the end of the world was really such a good idea.
But hell. They had plenty of reason to celebrate, so why not?
The hills were dark now. The sun had set, casting a stunning view of the surrounding countryside and towns. It was a sunset Holly had seen so many times before. And that sunset always sparked something inside her. It always cultivated a pride for where she lived, and a love for her family.
But right now, it’d taken on a whole different meaning.
There wasn’t a sad, nostalgic clinging to the past there anymore. There was hope for the future.
And Holly was going to hold on to that hope for as long as she could.
They were sitting inside the log cabin. Callum had invited them in and dragged out a load of dusty old beer cans in the process.
“I’m only sixteen,” Holly said, when he’d handed her one.
He smirked, rolled his eyes. “You’re accompanied by an adult. All’s good. Anyway. New world, new rules. Booze for all!”
She looked around the room. There was a fire going, crackling away. Harriet was sat by it chatting to Gordon and his friends. Callum was sitting with her and Kumal. Kumal a
nd he seemed to be talking a lot about their theories for where things were going from here—speculating about the future, discussing methods of hunting, of gathering water. He was also raving about some bioethanol fire-lighting gel, which was one of the best burners, apparently—of which Callum had loads stockpiled.
And even though the cloud of shock still held its grip over all of them, Holly couldn’t help detecting an optimism. It felt like, for the first time in a long time, they were being able to look past the potential horrors of this new world and actually move forward.
But moving forward was always going to be difficult when there were so many links to the past.
Holly turned to Kumal then. There was something she needed to ask him. Something she needed to get off her chest. “Do you not wonder about your family?”
Kumal took a sip of his beer. Then, he shrugged. “My… my family and I. We didn’t get along too well anyway. Besides. They’re on holiday. If this is global, I can’t see they’ll be getting home anytime soon.”
Callum interrupted. “Not global, man. Targeted. It’s a targeted attack on Western states.”
“My family are in Spain.”
“Then I hope they stocked up on plenty of tacos, my friend. They’re in for as rough a ride as we are.”
Holly narrowed her eyes when Callum spoke. There was something strange about him, about his attitude towards all this. “What’s your story?”
He sipped his beer. “My story? Gordon and I, we don’t have parents anymore. We don’t really have much in the way of family at all. Me, I’ve found my own way of living up here. Gordon… well, he was in sheltered accommodation down in the city.”
Holly widened her eyes. “Sheltered accommodation?”
“So he was homeless basically.”
She looked over at Gordon. He was barely older than the rest of them. And right now, he looked so at ease by all this. So settled.
“That’s why this ain’t exactly hell to all of us,” Callum said. “Gordon’s been in that shit tip down in the city for so long. Now, it’s like everyone’s on an even keel. Only they aren’t, ’cause there’s people like me around who know more about this kind of shit than the average guy.”
“You are handy to know,” Kumal said. “I’ll give you that.”
Holly couldn’t take her attention off Gordon. The sad story that he was living in sheltered accommodation. That explained what he’d said about understanding losing her mum, without wanting to go into it. “He’s… he’s so young to be homeless.”
“System doesn’t care what age you are. It’s broken. Now… now there’s a chance for it to fix, all by itself. A chance to hit the reset button. Another beer?”
Holly shook her head. She’d not even taken a sip of this one. “I’m good.”
Callum nodded, then stood up. “You snooze, you lose. They aren’t gonna last forever. Better make the most because tomorrow, we get to work.”
He stepped out of the log cabin. And as he did, Holly found her attention turning to Harriet.
“Harriet’s parents,” she said to Kumal. “She… she never talks about them.”
“With good reason,” Kumal whispered. “I hear her dad’s a bit… well. He’s not a nice guy. Let’s leave it at that.”
With that, Holly felt even more sympathy for Harriet; even more of a sense that she’d judged her wrong, all along. And at the same time, she felt guilty. Guilty for judging Dad, too.
He cared for her. She couldn’t deny that. He’d made some mistakes. He’d been distant.
But Mum had died. The love of his life had died. Who could really blame him for being a bit more detached than usual?
She looked at the door, zoning out from the happiness, from the conversation. And she hoped that wherever he was out there, he was okay. She hoped that wherever he was, he’d remember this place. He’d find this place. He’d find her.
But even if he didn’t… she hoped he knew how much she loved him.
She went to turn away from the door.
But then she stopped.
Callum came charging inside.
He didn’t have any beer cans.
He was covered in sweat. Fear on his face. Panting.
“What is it?” Gordon asked.
“There’s… there’s a group,” he said.
“So what? There’s plenty of room in here,” Gordon said.
Kumal raised his can. “And plenty of beers.”
“You don’t understand,” he said. “This group. They’re armed.”
With that, Holly went cold, and the room went silent.
“Armed?” Holly said.
He looked right at her, then. “They have guns. And they’re walking right towards this place—”
Holly didn’t hear what Callum said next.
Because she heard something that sent a shiver down her spine.
Gunfire.
“They’re here,” she said.
Mike
The second Mike heard the gunfire, his stomach sank.
He’d cycled his way up to the Rocky Cliffs with Alison, Richard, and Arya running closely behind. Arya seemed to love the run. Seemed like she thrived off the exercise. Richard was right—she was a husky, so running was in her nature.
It was dark by the time they made their way up the side of the hill, though. Mike had been keen not to take the most direct route, mostly because he was sure that was the way the armed prisoners would be heading.
But all that said, they still had the advantage of bikes. They had speed on their side over the on-foot movement of their rivals. They should be able to make it to the Rocky Cliffs—to the log cabin that Richard had told them about—just in time.
But he was just outside the Rocky Cliffs when he heard the gunfire.
Mike froze. He stopped cycling, right away.
“Did you hear that?” he asked.
Alison looked uncertain. As far as Mike was concerned, that was a yes.
“We should keep on moving,” she said. “Shouldn’t make any real judgements until we know for certain what’s going on.”
Mike wanted to keep his composure, but he was struggling to do so. “There’s a chance my daughter’s up there. They—they have one of her friends. I can’t hold back.”
“I’m just asking you to be rational about this. We need to think before we go charging in. We can’t get ourselves into any more trouble.”
Mike knew Alison was right. “It’s just hard. Knowing she might be up there. I’ve failed her long enough. I can’t keep doing that.”
“And she wouldn’t want you dead, either. So you’re going to pull yourself together and we’re going to take this slowly, okay?”
Mike sighed, nodded. “Okay.”
They kept on moving, off their bikes now. They were so close to the Rocky Cliffs. Mike was sure he could hear talking—or was it shouting? Whatever it was, there had to be a reason why that armed group had fired their gun. And there had to be a reason they were talking so loud, too. And the only thing Mike could think of? They’d found someone. Someone else to stand up to. Someone else to bully.
And as much as Mike didn’t want to believe it was the case, he couldn’t help feeling like it might be his daughter.
He picked up his pace once again. Arya was close behind. Because although Alison was right, and he didn’t want to wind up dead before he’d even found out whether his daughter was here at all, time was of the essence.
These people had guns. He knew how powerful a gun could make a person feel, especially someone who’d been trodden down by the system for so, so long. Someone who already felt like for whatever reason, they’d been left behind by society.
So he picked up his pace even more. Kept on pushing. Kept on going.
“Whatever happens,” Alison said, keeping close by Mike. “Your daughter. She… If you are anything to go by, she’s got nothing to worry about. Because you’re tough. Which means she must be tough.”
Mike thought about his daughter and
swallowed a lump in his throat. “She’s tougher than you’d believe.”
He saw the look in Alison’s eyes again. That glint of connection. And he knew it was dangerous. He knew he shouldn’t get too close.
But then… an opposing voice was crying out to him. Why shouldn’t he get close? What was stopping him?
He went to say something when he heard more gunfire.
And this time, he heard a loud cry.
He froze, then. Because maybe it was Holly, or maybe it wasn’t. But the mere possibility that the scream belonged to his daughter had him possessed.
He dropped his bike and went running off in the direction of the gunfire.
“Mike!” Alison called.
But there was no stopping him now. There was nothing that could stop him moving; stop him running after that gunfire. Because all the possibilities were spiralling his mind; all the options were wreaking havoc with his emotions.
That scream.
That scream could’ve been his daughter.
It could’ve been his baby girl.
“I’m not leaving you behind,” he said. “Not again.”
He ran further, through some thicker hedges.
And this time, when he pushed through them, he froze.
There were people in the distance. Armed people.
They were surrounding the log cabin.
The girl was on her knees.
There was someone at the window. Someone whose eyes he met, just for a moment.
And when he did, every muscle in his body loosened.
He’d know those eyes lit up by firelight from a mile away.
He’d know that chocolate-brown hair from any distance.
He knew who this girl was—exactly who this girl was.
“Holly,” he said. “Holly.”
She was trapped inside that log cabin.
She was surrounded.
And there was nothing he could do.
Holly
Holly heard the gunfire and saw the men approaching, and she knew how much trouble they were in.
She knew exactly who these people were.
The sky was dark, now. And that darkness brought with it a new sense of fear. Because Holly and the rest of her group had this place lit up with fire and candles. They stuck out like a sore thumb here. They’d been stupid.
