After the Storm (Book 3): Survival

by Ryan Casey

  I swallowed a lump in my throat, feeling the eyes of everyone in this room on me. I could hear Bouncer panting and whimpering, eager to get over to that fire to sit by it. But again, the chances of that were looking slimmer by the second.

  I cleared my throat and wiped some of the rainwater from my face. “Will.”

  “What?”

  “Will.”

  “Did you hear him?” Alex asked, turning to the others. “Because I didn’t hear him. Speak up.”

  I could tell he was just toying with me. The grin on his face was enough to give that away. “Will,” I said. “Will Stuartson.”

  “Right,” Alex said, holding his bottle of water. “That’s progress. Will, you and I have already met. This here’s Pete. The wee chap in the middle there, that’s Bobby. And that gentleman over there’s Pete’s good friend Al. Everyone, this is Will. Will and I have met before.”

  They all looked at me, and I looked back at them. I felt my cheeks burning. I just wanted to get away.

  But then I heard the rumbling, crackling thunder and felt the lashing rain just inches away, and I knew outside wasn’t somewhere I wanted to be right now.

  “So, Will. Where were we? The last time we met?”

  “What happened down at the trout farm. That—”

  “Yeah,” Alex said, interrupting. “What did happen down by the trout farm? Why don’t you tell everyone here what happened?”

  I felt my heart pounding as hot shame filled my body.

  “Go on, Will. Don’t be shy. You weren’t shy down by the pond. What was it you said to me?”

  I glanced up at Alex, then at the rest of the people here. Even little Bobby was looking at me like I was a monster that’d just climbed out from under the bed. “I turned you away.”

  “You what? You’re speaking too quietly again.”

  “I turned you away.”

  Alex smiled as my voice echoed around this cabin. The candle flame flickered as it blew in the breeze, which was seeping through the walls. “Right,” he said. “You turned me away. But not just that, Will. Not just that at all. You told me that if I didn’t go away, you’d kill me.”

  “I never meant that.”

  “You never meant that? Come off it, my friend. You meant every word of it. And for what? A measly little fish.”

  I stood there, dripping water onto the floor of the cabin, and I felt total shame. I was everything wrong with this world. I went against the whole idea of communities coming together, sharing what they had.

  I was a product of the old world’s selfishness, and in this new world, that made me a villain.

  “So. You told me I couldn’t have any of that fish in that lake. How was the fish, by the way? Was it tasty?”

  I remembered the slimy, scaly texture, and it made me heave. “It was fine.”

  “Good. I hope it was. I mean that sincerely, too. I hope it was worth it. But I told you something, you remember? Karma. Karma always catches up with you in this world. So it’s nice of you to show up like this. Cyclical, in a way.”

  I started to back away when I felt something press into my back. I felt breathing, and I realised then that there was someone behind me.

  Alex’s face had turned, as had the faces of everyone else in here. I could tell they meant business, now. That we were getting to the real point of this conversation.

  “See, I don’t like turning anyone away. It goes against my… my ‘moral code’. I wouldn’t deny anyone some hot food, or a nice bit of warmth in front of the fire. It’s a human privilege, as far as I see it.”

  There was a pause. In those moments, I felt my hope starting to rise. I’d done wrong, but I could redeem myself. They could forgive me and prove their goodness, and I could prove it back.

  “But… there are points where we have to draw a line.”

  My stomach sank.

  “I gave you an opportunity to share, and you didn’t share.”

  “Please.”

  “I gave you a chance, and you turned it down.”

  “I made a mistake. I can put it right.”

  “No,” Alex said.

  It was the firmest he’d spoken to me. He stood up, walked over to me. He squared up to me and looked right into my eyes. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and for the first time, he looked mad.

  “You’re changing your tune because you’re the one begging. You’ve seen what you could have, and now you want it. Before, I was worthless to you. I was a distraction. I was a burden.”

  “I never meant to—”

  “I hope you enjoyed your fish,” Alex said.

  Then he looked over my shoulder and nodded.

  Right then, I felt someone drag the bag from my back. I tried to push back and fight, but in the end, I knew it wasn’t going to do me any good—especially not with the guns pointed at me—so I had to just let my muscles loosen. I had to just let go.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. I was choking up. “Really. Truly. I’m sorry.”

  Alex grabbed my bag from me and looked inside. He tilted his head to one side and nodded. “Bit damp. But we can dry some of the good stuff out.”

  I shook my head. “My wife. She’s—”

  “I don’t give a shit about your wife,” Alex said. “But I’ll tell you what. I’ve got something for you.”

  He put my bag down, walked to the other side of the cabin, and then picked something up.

  Then, he put a tissue with something inside it in my hand.

  “Good luck, Will,” he said, as my parka was pulled from my back. “I hope you find your way out there. And I hope it was worth it.”

  He pushed me back then, and someone dragged my shoulders towards the door. I felt the warmth from the fire disappearing. I lost the scent of the food.

  And I felt the rain soak my coat-less body in an instant.

  I was walked out into the woods, into the darkness, far away from the cabins.

  As I stood there in the rain, shivering, soaking, I looked down into my hands.

  Inside the tissue paper, there was a measly scrap of fish.

  I hope it was worth it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I lay in the rain and stared up into the darkness.

  The night felt like it had dragged on forever. The rain still hadn’t let up. I was shivering even worse now, mostly because I’d had my parka snatched from me. I couldn’t blame them for it, though. In fact, I understood why they’d done what they’d done. I’d made a dick of myself to Alex. Worse than that, I’d proven myself selfish and untrustworthy.

  I listened to the water falling all around me. Underneath, I could feel the mud slushing around as it got more and more waterlogged. I knew I should move. This was hardly ideal circumstances. And it was going to leave me in an absolute mess of a state.

  But what good was finding shelter? The damage had already been done. I was cold, and I was exhausted. There was no use trying to start a fire because I didn’t have anything to start a fire with, and even if I started a fire using sticks, the rain was just too heavy.

  I just had to hope the rain slowed down soon.

  I saw my situation like I was looking at myself in a mirror. I’d made mistakes in not trusting other people, in putting myself and those closest to me before other people. But there was a reason I’d acted that way. I hadn’t wanted to lose anything or anyone else. The thought of any more loss just made my toes curl.

  I’d done so well to hold on to Olivia, to Bouncer, and to Kesha. And the knowledge that Kerry was out there too, somewhere… that was knowledge I couldn’t just give up on. I had to act on it.

  I unfurled the small chunk of fish from the soaked tissue paper and went to move the flesh to my damp lips.

  Then I looked at Bouncer, who lay beside me, tilting his head either side.

  “Go on then, you. Don’t enjoy it too much.”

  I handed Bouncer the fish, which he lapped up right away.

  Then I closed my eyes and leaned back against the tre
e.

  I might be soaked. I might be starting to feel sick, even.

  But no matter what situation I was in now, I knew what I had to do.

  I had to find Kerry.

  I had to continue my journey.

  And that journey continued tomorrow.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I woke the next morning feeling pretty shitty, to say the least.

  The sunlight above me made me squint and gave me a headache. I was amazed I’d even got any sleep at all, but somehow I’d managed. I thought maybe my mind had decided to just shut off from the horrors outside. If the rain never stopped, I might never have woken up.

  But the rain had stopped. It was a nice enough morning. Well, nice other than the fact I felt totally rotten. The cold wind felt bitter when it touched my rain-soaked, muddied skin. All sounds of my feet wading through the ground were muffled. My throat was sore, and my teeth were chattering. I knew I’d probably got a cold, or some kind of bug.

  The first thing I did was reach for my back, where I always kept my bug-out bag. But of course, I didn’t have that with me right now. Alex and his people had taken it from me.

  I thought about going back there and standing up to them. I wanted to get my revenge on them from dangling hope right in front of my face, then taking it away from me.

  But no. I knew what they’d done was right, in their mind.

  And besides. I had more important matters at hand.

  Like finding my wife.

  I thought about some potential herbal remedies I could use to clear my cold, were time on my side. The best things were elderberries. They are known for their effectiveness in protecting the immune system, and while being a traditional folk treatment, there had also been pretty recent studies proving that it was more than just a myth, with antiviral and flu-fighting qualities. That said, where any wild berries or plants are concerned, there’s always dangers. Unripe elderberries are highly toxic, and it’s difficult to tell the difference between a ripe and an unripe. Medical expertise was an area I wasn’t totally familiar with other than a few basics, so I couldn’t risk making myself even lousier anytime soon.

  Besides, it didn’t seem like any of those elderberries were readily available right now. So I’d just have to make do with a bad cough.

  If it got too bad, well. I just had to hope I was back at the barracks, where there were meds and things like that so I could get myself back to full health.

  I needed to be at full health, for the good of the people—and the dog—around me.

  And if it turned into the full-blown flu, well… I knew it likely meant days in isolation, away from the vulnerable. The flu was a killer to the old and the very young. Without jabs, the only way to properly, effectively manage it was by keeping someone with flu away from everyone else.

  It wasn’t the nicest solution. But it was the only solution.

  Still, as rough as I felt, I knew I had to push on. It was time for me to continue my journey. I’d been walking for a few days now. I’d hit some setbacks, sure, but I was making progress.

  And I was still alive. Despite everything—a stand-off with Andy and his people, the elements eager to kill me—I was still here.

  I had Bouncer by my side. Together, we were going to get to Kerry, and then we were going to get back home.

  If only things were as simple as they sounded when you spelt them out like that…

  I was without my bug out bag, which was an annoyance. But an even bigger annoyance was that my map had been drenched, so I’d lost my bearings.

  I looked up at the sun, and I knew my north and my south from its position. But I needed to be more specific. I needed to find some kind of marker that would put me back on track towards York. Sure, I was probably going to run into a few motorways on my way now, and likely some other people, too.

  That was just part of the way this world worked. I had to be ready. I had to be prepared.

  I knew a few ways to make a compass, and I fortunately had managed to find the supplies needed to make one from a few scraps lying around on my travels. I had a magnet, an empty Starbucks cup, a thin needle, and a little bit of old foil that looked gnawed at. I’d filled the cup with some rainwater—that hadn’t been in short supply for sure. And then I’d placed the needle on the magnet for about two minutes. Then, I’d put the strip of foil onto the water and positioned the magnetised needle on top of the foil. After a moment of adjustment, voila, I’d found my compass, the direction of the needle pointing north.

  When I’d made the compass, I followed the woodland path towards the edge of the woods. When I got there, after another couple of hours walking, I looked around and saw a hill in the distance. I climbed it, despite the blisters on my feet, despite the cold covering my body.

  When I reached the top of that hill, I saw I was at the side of a motorway.

  I looked down the motorway. It was totally filled with cars. There was an eeriness to everything. Even the slightest movement made a sound.

  I could smell something sour in the air too, and I didn’t have to look to know what that was.

  I looked down the motorway, right to the signs. And I saw a turn-off. Junction 47.

  I felt a smile twinge at the corners of my mouth. Junction 47, A59 turn-off. I knew exactly where it was, and how far from York it was. I also could vaguely remember where my route on the map was from here. It would be a straight route towards York; a route which should lead me directly into the path of the Pilchard Industrial Estate.

  I looked down at my compass, and then I looked ahead at the junction, and then back at the fields below me.

  I knew where I had to go. I knew what I had to do.

  Nothing was stopping me now.

  “I’m coming for you, Kerry,” I said, as I started to walk again, my lips so cold they were no doubt turning blue. “I’m coming.”

  In the distance, far in the distance, the clouds started to thicken again, and the thunder began to rumble.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Stu saw the new arrivals heading through the trees, and he knew right away he had another dilemma on his hands.

  It was a nice day. Much nicer, now the storm had decided to give them a breather. It was one of those crisp, frosty afternoons that reminded him of Christmas. Back when things were normal, he’d go to Samantha’s parents’ for Christmas. In the early days, the whole having to spend Christmas with the in-laws thing frustrated him. Samantha and he would have real, brutal arguments about how much time they spent with her parents compared to how much time they spent with his.

  The arguments weren’t helped when Dad passed away. It was very sudden, a dodgy bit of ice in the road and bam, right into a bollard. The police told Stu that his death had been pretty instant, but it always bothered him that they hadn’t been completely straight with him. Perhaps his death had been much more drawn out and painful than he’d originally been told. Maybe he’d been screaming as they’d attempted to cut him from the car, only to die when they finally detached him from the sharp shards of crumpled metal that the car had been reduced to.

  It didn’t help him to think this way. But after that, the arguments had got worse for a while, and then soon after their relationship had picked up. He started to enjoy his Christmases with Samantha and his in-laws. He saw them… well, as a new family.

  Just a shame they all had to go away so soon after the collapse. Such a tragedy that the virus took hold of her and snatched her away from him, forever.

  The lights might spark on again someday. But Samantha’s life—and their relationship—would not.

  Which was part of why he’d forced himself to move on to someone else.

  Now, he saw the people at the gates. There were four of them. One was just a little boy. They looked like they’d walked quite a way to get here. And more interestingly than anything, one of them had an air rifle, and it looked like they had a bag full of supplies.

  “Do you want me to take them out?” Hailey asked.


  Stu hesitated. Just for a few seconds. “No,” he said.

  Hailey raised her eyebrows. “Wow. There’s a turn for the books.”

  He turned away from Hailey and climbed down the steps, right down towards the gates.

  As he opened the gates, he heard a voice whispering in his ear, telling him he was making the wrong call. After all, he knew he should only trust those inside his community, of which there were enough people already.

  But there was just something about these people, with their weapons on display, and that food in front of them. They looked like they were willing to share. Like they were happy to offer up what they had for Stu to take.

  He liked that about them. At least they understood that you couldn’t get anywhere without payment, not anymore.

  He walked towards them, and they walked towards him. There were three men and a boy, a strange setup if ever Stu had seen one, but no doubt there was a story behind their circumstances, as there was with everyone.

  When he was within ten feet, he stopped walking.

  The group stopped walking, too.

  There was silence, for a while. In the distance, birds cawed, the wind rustling the trees against one another.

  Then, one of the group of four spoke. “We’re not here to hurt you. You should know that. We’re here because we like what you’ve got. And we want to be a part of what you’ve got.”

  Stu tensed his jaw. He had to admit that he admired it when someone could be straight with him right from the off. It certainly built the foundations for trust a whole lot better than any suspicious actions did. “Your names?”

  “This is Al, Pete, and Little Bobby. And I’m Alex.”

  “And what have you brought for me, Alex?”

  Alex pulled a rucksack off his bag. He searched around it, dragging out all kinds of foods and contraptions that looked like they would come in handy. First aid kits. Pieces of wire. Even snacks. “As well as this stuff, we’ve got food. We’ve got guns. We’ve also got Al here, who’s a damned good chef if ever I’ve seen one.”

  They laughed. Stu didn’t.

  “But what can all of you bring? All four of you?”