by Casey, Ryan
He saw the doors of the helicopter slide shut.
He knew she couldn’t hear him anymore.
Hayden lay there on the cold ground. He listened to the rotors speed up once more. He looked through that window into Amy’s eyes. He wanted to be on that helicopter with her. He wanted to be there with her so much. He could see how terrified she was. How afraid and alone she was.
But the fact was, he wasn’t for the new world.
He wasn’t for the new world not just because he had a botched immunisation inside him, but because he’d been bitten.
Because he was turning.
But as Hayden watched the helicopter ascend, as he saw his final hope of ever getting away from Britain departing him, he didn’t feel sadness. He didn’t feel fear.
More than anything, he felt proud.
He’d done what he had to do. He’d done the last thing that mattered to him. The final thing that kept him on this earth. The whole reason he’d been brought back from the dead in the first place.
He’d kept his people safe.
Continued their legacy.
He watched the helicopter get further and further away. He looked into Amy’s eyes for as long as he could.
When she shifted out of view, he kept on looking up, just to make sure she was getting away okay. Just to check everything was going to plan.
He smiled as he watched the helicopter catch up with the rest of them. As the rapidly spinning rotors disappeared and were replaced by the familiar sounds of groaning, of footsteps, of silence.
He’d done what he had to do.
He’d kept his people safe.
And now he could roll over and…
When he turned, he saw someone standing beside him.
Gary.
He looked up at Gary. Looked into the eyes of the man he both detested and saved. He saw the look of anger there again. The look of fury.
“You—you fucked it up,” Gary said. Hayden could hear the shakiness in Gary’s voice. The fear.
“Gary, I—”
“My way out of here. You… you fucked it up.”
He walked towards Hayden. And Hayden braced himself for Gary’s boot to dig into his side. For him to get down there and beat the shit out of him. End his life. Finish him off, once and for all.
But something else happened.
Gary lifted Hayden up.
Then he wrapped his arms around him and started crying.
He held onto Hayden tight. Held on, apologising, spilling his heart out, telling Hayden how sorry he was for everything he’d taken away from him, how stupid he’d been, how selfish he’d been, how blinded by power and grief he’d been.
And as much as Hayden wanted to tell Gary that he should be sorry, he could only do one thing.
Put his arms around Gary, too.
Hold on to him.
Cry with him.
They stood there. Hayden wasn’t sure how long they stood there for, but they did. They stood there silently, the life seeping from Hayden’s body, death rapidly approaching.
And then Hayden saw something in the distance. A flash. A bright flash way over the horizon. Seconds after that flash, Hayden heard the bang. Loud. Thunderous. More powerful than anything he’d ever witnessed.
They stood there, Hayden and Gary. Stood there and stared off into the distance.
When the brightness cleared, Hayden saw it. The mushroom cloud. It looked different to the ones you saw on television and films. Much larger, and much more intimidating.
But there was something beautiful about it too. Something unavoidable, inescapable, as that barrage of power rushed towards them, prepared to wrap its arms around them and take them away.
Hayden felt Gary grab his hand.
He held Gary’s hand in turn.
They stood there as another flash filled the sky. As another mushroom cloud emerged to the left. And then another, this one further away. And as they stood there, surrounded by inevitability, Hayden took a final look around Britain—a final look through these eyes—and then he closed them.
In his mind, as the rumbling grew closer, as the winds grew louder, he saw his family.
Just like the dreams. His mum. His dad. Clarice.
Only they weren’t dead. They weren’t infected. They were standing in Annabelle’s bedroom—the one he’d seen her hang herself in—and they were smiling. Dad waved at Hayden. Mum called out to him. Told him to enter.
And Hayden did. He walked in. And the further he walked in, he saw other people were there. Newbie. Miriam. Sarah. People he’d survived with. People who’d shaped his life. People he’d loved.
And then, standing by the window, he saw Annabelle.
She wasn’t hanging. She wasn’t anywhere near a rope.
She was just standing there, looking just like she did that day by the swimming pool, only she looked even more real than she had done back then. She looked even more alive than any memory could create.
She smiled at Hayden. Smiled at him, her blonde hair swaying by the side of her head, then let out a little laugh that Hayden had forgotten she’d even done; it’d been so many years since he’d heard it.
She held out her hand.
“Come on, little brother. I’ve missed you.”
Hayden smiled.
He smiled, and he tasted tears on his lips.
“I’m here,” he said.
He felt burning heat on his face.
Felt the sounds of the earth tearing itself up screeching in his ears.
He took his sister’s hand. Held onto it.
“I’m he…”
He heard a final bang.
He felt his sister’s hand tighten around his.
And then there was nothing but silence.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Amy looked down at the bright colours coming from the sky behind her.
She knew what they were. She’d seen them when mum’s boyfriend used to watch his war documentaries. She knew what the mushrooms in the sky were. And she knew what they did. She’d seen that too because she’d accidentally walked in when her stepdad was watching some old videos.
She’d seen the pain those mushrooms in the sky caused. She’d seen the damage they created.
And when she looked back at them, all of them exploding one by one, one after the other, she felt scared.
Because she knew Hayden was stuck in the middle of them.
She knew so many people were stuck in the middle of them.
Her ears rang from the sounds of the propellers above. Her eyes stung from watching the blasts. She’d heard people crying in the helicopter she was in. There were a few people in here. Strange people, but then Amy guessed she must seem strange too because she’d seen things. Been through things.
They all had stories. Stories that would stay with them. Stories that would keep them up at night. Stories that they’d hide and try not to tell.
Amy had too many of those stories.
She hoped she’d never have to tell them. She didn’t even want to think about them again.
“Sad, isn’t it?”
A woman’s voice came from her right. She was looking out of the helicopter. She didn’t look sad, though. In fact, Amy thought it looked like she was smiling.
She turned to Amy. Nodded at her. “Think of how many years it took this country to get to what it did. Think of all those boring history lessons. All of that just… just gone.”
“Not as long as we’re here to tell it again,” a man said.
The woman turned around. Nodded.
Amy didn’t say a word.
She’d been offered food a few times. But truth be told, when they’d offered her chocolate bars, she’d felt strange taking them. She didn’t feel hungry. She didn’t like the idea of just taking stuff like that. It was too easy. Even though she’d been in New Britain for so long, it still felt like food shouldn’t just be handed to her. It felt like she should have to work for it.
She guessed she’d always
feel that way from now on. She’d never be the little girl she was before the world ended, that’s for sure.
Only it hadn’t ended.
She watched the edge of land disappear. She saw a couple more flashes of light way in the distance. She squinted at them as the mushrooms sprouted out of them. She wondered if Hayden was dead yet. If he was, she wondered if he’d been scared. He didn't seem scared. He never seemed scared. He always seemed like he knew what he was doing. But more than anything, he seemed like other people were the most important thing to him. Like they mattered more than even himself.
Amy hoped she could be like Hayden one day. She hoped there were more people like Hayden wherever she was going.
She thought back to her mum as the island—Britain—got further away. And thinking of her mum made her sad because Mum had a way of making her not feel scared even when everything was going wrong around her. She missed Mum. She tried not to think about the last time she’d seen her. What the zombie did to her. Because that wasn’t her real mum. That wasn’t the mum that had got her so far, that had taught her to be strong.
Her real mum was the one she had to remember. The one she had to remember to keep inside her even when she was upset.
Mum made her strong.
She could never let go of her.
After a while, the sun now higher in the sky, she saw the helicopters moving closer towards the sea.
She heard some gasps. And she started to worry that something was going wrong. That was until she saw the happiness on the faces of the people in the helicopter. The tears of joy.
Amy looked around.
In the distance, she could see land. Only it wasn’t like the land they’d just left behind. This land had little things moving on it. Like cars.
This land was alive.
Amy felt a knot in her chest the closer they got to the land. She felt herself wanting to hide away as the helicopters descended, as they landed. When she saw the mass of people all in the distance, all surrounding the helicopters, smiles on their faces, cameras raised.
She didn’t want to be here.
She wasn’t strong enough to be here. Not on her own.
Outside the window, she saw children climbing out of one of the other helicopters. She saw men, women, even pets. People of all ages getting off these helicopters, then the cameras flashing as they walked through the people. Amy saw them and she felt herself wanting to cave in even more. Because she didn’t know these people. She was alone amongst these people. She wasn’t strong without her mum here, without Hayden here.
The door opened. She felt the breeze hit her face. And just smelling that air was amazing. Air that didn’t smell like the dead. Amy only now realised that the air smelled like the dead back in Britain even when she didn’t think it did, just because she’d grown so used to it.
But this. This was fresh air. This was amazing.
She took in a long, deep breath and tried to fight the tingling butterflies in her tummy.
“Come on, kiddo. Time to get you out of here.”
Amy looked at the man in front of the helicopter door. It was the black man who’d taken her towards the helicopter in the first place. He was standing there, hand out. In the distance, Amy saw the crowd of people. She saw the cameras, getting ready to flash.
And still she wanted to stay in that helicopter. Still, she wanted to disappear. To say she wasn’t ready. That she wanted to go back.
And then she remembered Hayden’s words.
“The worst monsters of all. They’re inside your head. But if you can conquer those—if you can stand up to those and tell them to get out of the way—you can achieve anything.”
Amy hadn’t really understood those words at first. But now, as she stood here, the man holding his hand out getting ready to lead her out into the new world, they made sense to her. Made much more sense to her.
He wanted her to be strong.
He wanted her to do something she really didn’t want to do. Something scary. Something terrifying. Just like he’d done to get her here. Just like all the things he’d done to keep his people alive. To keep everyone alive.
She took a deep breath.
Looked into the eyes of the cameras ahead.
“It’s okay to be scared. Being scared shows that you’re still alive. Be brave, Amy.”
“You ready?” the man asked.
Amy swallowed a lump in her throat.
She’d never let go of who got her here. Of how he’d got her here.
Hayden McCall was her hero.
And he’d never be gone. Never.
She took the man’s hand.
“I’m ready,” she said.
She stepped out of the helicopter.
Stepped out of her perfect little bubble.
Stepped out into the new world.
Chapter Z
The sky never returned to the same colour after that fateful day of bombing.
There was a constant brightness to it. Like the clouds themselves had been covered in glow-in-the-dark gunk. Even the cloudiest of days seemed bright, but not exactly in a nice way. The kind of bright you get when you’re in a hospital bed. Artificial brightness. Brightness that makes you squint.
And then there was the smell.
It was hard to believe the smell could possibly be any worse than the smell of the dead. But when you smelled the remains of a nuclear wasteland, you fast realised that was entirely possible. It was medicinal, almost. Like a hundred waste landfills mixed with sewerage, all dunked in chemical waste. It clung to your tongue as you breathed. Made you hurl.
But hurling was a sign of life.
Breathing was a sign of life.
There were no sounds anymore. No noises. Just the constant echo. The echo in the ears that reminded you of the day everything exploded. The day everything disappeared. It wasn’t a bad day. It was the day that saved Britain. Britain would take time to rebuild. It would take years, decades, to become safe enough to recover from the tons of nuclear chemicals pummelled into it, reshaping its landscapes.
But it would bounce back.
It would.
Because that’s what humanity always did.
He looked out over the empty, vast landscape. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the day of the bombing.
But he was sure of one thing.
The people he cared about most were safe.
He’d done the right thing, even if it had condemned him to a future in the wilderness.
He tightened his rucksack over his shoulder. Took a sip from a bottle of uncontaminated water. And then he looked out over the crater where one of the eleven nuclear bombs had fallen.
He looked further over the crater. Further over the horizon. Into the sun.
And then he smiled.
He turned around. Walked away.
There was nothing to be afraid of anymore.
Nothing to fear.
Not even the monsters inside his head.
There was just peace.
THE END
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About the Author
Ryan Casey is the author of over a dozen novels and a highly successful serial. He primarily writes post apocalyptic fiction, and also has a series of mystery novels. Across all genres, Casey's work is renowned for its dark, page-t
urning suspense, unforgettably complex characters, and knockout twists.
Casey lives in the United Kingdom. He has a BA degree in English with Creative Writing from the University of Birmingham, and has been writing stories for as long as he can remember. In his spare time, he enjoys American serial television, is a slave to Pitchfork's Best New Music section, and wastes far too much of his life playing Football Manager games.
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any reference to real locations is only for atmospheric effect, and in no way truly represents those locations.
Copyright © 2016 by Ryan Casey
Cover design by Cormar Creative
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Published by Higher Bank Books
