Outside - a post-apocalyptic novel

by Boland, Shalini

  ‘You okay?’ he whispers in the sudden silence.

  Just then, something cold presses at the side of my head. Luc swings his weapon towards me, but he’s too late.

  ‘I’ll shoot.’ It’s a man’s voice, steady and confident. His breath smells rank, his body odour sickening. I don’t dare turn my head to look at him. His arm slithers around my shoulders and his gun presses harder into my temple.

  Luc lowers his weapon as the man relieves me of my machine gun with his left hand. I’m rigid with fear, hardly able to breathe. He must’ve crawled up the other side of the AV while we were distracted by the raiders coming down the hill. Why on earth hadn’t we anticipated something like this? We should have activated the shockplates before carrying out our hasty plan. Luc must have the same thought as me, because I see his hand snaking down inside the AV towards the shock button.

  But before Luc has a chance to do anything, another man appears over the top of the AV and cracks Luc on the side of the head with his gun. Luc crumples down into his seat like a rag doll and I see thick globs of blood on the roof-opening.

  ‘No,’ I moan. My vision blurs and I feel like I’m about to pass out.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ says the man next to me. ‘He’ll just have a bit of a headache when he wakes up and I feel so much better now he’s asleep.’ He’s well spoken and, when I glance at him, he smiles, smug and in control of the situation. He looks to be in his twenties, clean shaven and good looking. Pity about his personal hygiene.

  He slings my Kalashnikov over his body and reaches past me into the AV to pull Luc up by his hair so he’s now slumped upright in the driver’s seat. But he hasn’t done this out of any concern for Luc; he’s trying to reach Luc’s machine gun which fell onto the floor when he was knocked out.

  I weigh up my options and find them very limited. The revolver is still jammed against my head, my gun hangs from the man’s malodorous body and my lovely Luc is unconscious, with another raider trying to reach the M60 down in the foot well. Then things get suddenly worse.

  ‘Nice work, Solly.’ Another man’s face materialises over the top of the AV and my heart plummets even further. Then, from behind the rustling trees and bushes the hidden raiding party appears. There are about twenty to thirty men and women of varying ages and attire, all modestly armed and some carrying lanterns. They look almost civilised – grubby, but not too unkempt, not like the people I saw outside the Charminster Compound. I hear distant shouting, look up and see the mounted raiders waving and cheering from the hillsides.

  We’re done for. We hadn’t scared them off before, as I’d mistakenly thought. They were merely waiting for Solly to do his worst. I’m paralysed with fear - alone and captured by hostile strangers capable of who knows what.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Riley

  *

  Now the raiders are crawling over the AV like dirty ants. They climb up on to the roof to congratulate their hero, Solly. They’re surprisingly well spoken and intelligent sounding. From their aggressive behaviour, I assumed they were all stupid and half-wild.

  Solly removes the metal gun barrel from the side of my head and grabs me by the waist. I gasp as he lifts me out of the vehicle, about to pass me down into the waiting arms of his friend. There’s no time to think, I have to act quickly and so, with all the strength I can muster, I kick out as hard as I possibly can with my heel. Unfortunately I’m only wearing my flip flops, but I manage to hit the sweet spot I’m aiming for and he drops me back into the passenger seat. I could almost smile to see him doubling up in agony, half sliding off the roof.

  ‘You little bitch,’ he wheezes.

  Meanwhile, his companion is leaning down into the drivers’ side, grappling past Luc’s body to reach for the elusive gun. I’ve got another surprise in store for them and, from my safe position inside the AV, I quickly flick the switch that activates the shock plates. There’s a split-second of teasing silence, followed by a highly-charged hum - a ramping up of power. Solly and his companion look down at me in horror as it dawns on them what the low, menacing sound means. I’m too wired to savour my victory.

  The raiders who’ve crawled onto the vehicle are quite literally about to receive the shock of their lives. Their hair begins to lift in slow-motion and then, suddenly and violently their bodies are thrown from the AV at the same time, like startled flies.

  The darkness is almost absolute outside, apart from the headlights and weak lanterns. Static from the electric plates showers sparks of light which accompany the raiders on their unexpected flights. Arms and legs splayed, hair standing on end and mouths open in silent screams and yells. They fly through the air at frightening speed, upwards and outwards; a cascade of human bodies.

  Has the electric current killed them? Or are they just badly stunned? I realise I’m shaking and I try to get my brain to unfreeze. I still have to get us out of here. The metal plates buzz and crackle and I thank God for old technology.

  Those who were thrown are now strewn on the ground about twenty feet from the vehicle, either in the middle of the road or on the grass verges. Some collided with those standing around the vehicle and are now lying unconscious on top of them. Others are just standing slack-jawed in amazement.

  But shock soon turns to anger and one idiot boy charges towards me and tries to open the passenger door. He immediately finds himself lying incapacitated with his friends, face down in a ditch.

  A woman picks up my Kalashnikov from Solly’s prone body and fiddles around with it for a while, before firing it at close range on the AV. I give a short scream as bullets bounce off the windows. The vehicle shudders horribly under the impact. Then she has a brainwave and lowers her aim to the tyres. I’m seriously freaking out now. I need to stop shaking and squealing and do something. I’m lucky - the woman’s ammunition runs out before she’s able to hamper my chances of a good getaway. She throws the gun down in disgust, the smirk, wiped from her face. There’s nothing any of them can do and they’re furious.

  All my thoughts now are of getting out of here, but Luc’s still slumped unconscious in the driver’s seat.

  ‘Luc! Luc, wake up. Please, Luc!’ I shake him, but he doesn’t respond and there’s no way I can shift him out of the way quickly enough. I close the roof and do the only thing I can in the circumstances - I improvise.

  Although I’m still in the passenger seat, I release the handbrake and stretch my right leg over Luc’s, onto the accelerator. I dip the clutch with my left leg and reach across Luc to grab the steering wheel. His face is resting on my back as I lean in front of him.

  The keycard clicks and I feel the engine hum. I stare at the road ahead illuminated by the yellow headlights still on full beam. The log now looks like a jumble of broken wood, but there are also several stunned bodies sprawled in amongst it. Hearing the engine, some of the raiders run into the road to try to lift the injured out of the way.

  I slide the gears into first, overdoing the accelerator so the engine roars as the AV leaps forward. I’m aware of several sickening judders beneath the wheels and I don’t know if I’m driving over bits of machine-gunned log and nails or if it’s the raiders’ bodies I’m mangling. I crunch into second gear and then third.

  Driving awkwardly, I lean across the still-unconscious Luc, for about ten or fifteen minutes, until I can no longer see the glow of lights in the hillsides. My heart is racing and my body is trembling in fear and shock and from the unnatural position my body is forced into. When I can stand it no more, I pull over to the side of the road and pull on the handbrake. I leave the engine running and make sure the plates are still activated. I know I have to move Luc across to the passenger side, I can’t drive like this and I’m also worried about the awkward position Luc’s sitting in.

  ‘Luc!’ I whisper loudly, still really scared in case someone is around. ‘Luc! Can you hear me? Are you okay?’

  Nothing. Please God let him be okay.

  The small crescent moon gives off a weak glow
as a cloud moves to reveal it. Luc’s head shows a huge egg-shaped lump and a livid bruise where he was hit with the revolver. Blood is congealing down the side of his face, but miraculously the wound seems to have stopped bleeding. I’m so worried about him. It’s obvious he’s in a bad way and needs proper help. If I was braver I’d turn back right now, but the thought of another encounter with the raiders is too much for me. I wish I’d been thinking straight back there - I would have done a three point turn and headed straight back home to the Perimeter. But I was too scared to think about which direction to drive in; I had just wanted to get out of there.

  I stretch, rolling my neck up and down and from side to side and then I lean across and look at Luc. His breaths come slow and even. I can scent the warmth from his skin. Without thinking I lean down an inch and kiss his cheek. It’s soft on my lips.

  I want to lie him across the back seat, but he might roll off with all the jolting around and, besides, it’ll be too difficult for me to get him there. My only other option is to put him in the front passenger seat and hope the upright position won’t be too harmful.

  I climb into the back and hook my arms underneath his armpits. He’s so heavy and I’m worried I might be making thing worse for his poor unconscious body. But even more worrying would be the imminent appearance of other raiding parties or worse and anyway, it’s impractical and dangerous to carry on driving the way I have been. A dog or a wolf howls in the distance and I try not to think about the horrors of the night, as I concentrate on trying to slide and heave Luc into the passenger seat.

  Sweating and breathless, I finally manage to get him where I want him to be. Then I swing his legs across one at a time, climb into the driver’s seat and fasten both our seatbelts.

  I rest my head on the steering wheel and try to get my breathing back under control. A few tears drip onto my cheeks and when I look across at Luc I feel immediately guilty. This is all my fault, this wild goose chase which originally seemed so glamorous and heroic. And now I might have gotten Luc seriously and permanently injured. Killed even. Please let him be okay. We have to get out of here, so I drive in a semi-stupor, relieved to be away from the beautiful floodplain.

  The road soon narrows and becomes hillier. Summer-coated trees line the road, bowing over to greet each other in the middle. I drive through this long, rustling tunnel, eerie and muffled in the dark, headlights shining strangely in the green murk. The way twists and turns, it rises and then drops away sharply.

  I grip the wheel, periodically stretching my fingers out where they ache from being locked into such a tense position. I drive in a terror of so many things: Luc’s unconscious state, the appearance of more raiders, or driving off the edge of the road - it seems so precarious in the unpredictable darkness. But I know so far we’ve been lucky to escape with our lives.

  Every time I look at Luc, my heart lurches. It seems as though he’s sleeping peacefully, his breaths are regular and his face is so serene. But in the dim light, I can clearly see the huge lump and vicious cut on the side of his head. Panic tries to jumble my thoughts, so I take some breaths to calm down. I need to put all negative thoughts out of my head, to tell myself he’s just asleep and will wake up soon. If I let myself think anything else, I’ll throw-up, pass-out or have a full blown panic attack.

  My thoughts shift to Ma and Pa. They’re more than likely going insane with worry. We should arrive at Grandma and Grandpa’s within a week or two, hopefully having completed what we’ve set out to do. I’ll be in for the biggest telling-off of my life, but it’ll be worth it if we get Chambers.

  If I don’t at least try, I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. What’s the alternative? To stay at home impotently wishing for Skye to come back? To hope for justice? No, I would go mad. It has to be this way.

  Suddenly, a yellow eye and a white ribbed wing fill my vision for a split second, as a huge brown owl nearly smacks into the windscreen. I slam my foot on the brake and the AV skids on the gravelly road with a sound like white noise.

  Luc and I pitch forward against our seatbelts, to be yanked backwards into our seats again. Luckily, the force isn’t great enough to deploy the airbags. Luc’s head lolls to one side. The owl hoots and swoops off into the night, unharmed.

  I pull on the handbrake with shaking hands and my breath comes in noisy and uneven gasps. What else could possibly happen tonight? The AV is skewed across the road. I looked up and notice the beam from the headlights is shining directly onto a narrow and overgrown dirt track leading off the main road.

  I’m too shaken up to drive out here again tonight, so I cross my fingers and re-start the engine. I steer the AV straight onto the track and park up in the tangled undergrowth.

  With trembling fingers, I switch off the engine, kill the lights, open the door and climb out. It takes what little courage I have to creep back onto the main road. I shiver and my teeth chatter, though the night air is warm. My nerves are shot to bits but I have to force myself into the middle of the deserted road to make sure no passer-by will be able to see our vehicle. A light wind plucks at my hair and the leaves rustle and sigh. I can’t wait to get back to the security of the AV.

  Once satisfied we’re truly hidden from view, I come back to check on Luc. He’s still asleep. I would rather he was lying flat, but I don’t dare attempt to lift him again, so I recline his seat as far as it will go and then crawl into the back seat to fall into a restless sleep.

  The following morning, I awake to the strange and unfamiliar sound of a cow mooing. I stretch, peer up out of the rear window and see a herd of black and white cattle leaning their thick necks over a five-barred gate about two hundred yards away. Between me and the wooden gate, towers an even higher wire fence topped with rolls of barbed wire. I’m lucky I didn’t stumble into it last night.

  Someone’s whistling. I follow the noise and see a woman with short fair hair wheeling a red push bike across the field towards the cows. The AV is in plain view through the gate - she must have seen us. A million things race through my brain at once, from the events of last night, to whether Luc has recovered this morning.

  I sit up quickly to look into the front of the vehicle and my stomach lurches to find his seat empty. Perhaps he’s slipped down into the passenger footwell. I lean forward to check. But no, Luc has disappeared.

  Fumbling, I unlock the AV and fall onto the wet grass. I scrabble to get upright and scan the area for Luc. The woman is now riding her bike as she herds the cows back across the field. How could she not have spotted me or the huge AV? She hasn’t even glanced in my direction. What am I supposed to do now?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Eleanor

  *

  My brother David ran into the house at five pm on Thursday August 10th.

  ‘Turn on the news!’ he shouted. I heard the crackle of the TV being switched on in the lounge. ‘Come and look at this, Ellie!’

  Everyone else had been at work that day as I lounged around the house in summer holiday mode and daydreamed about Connor. He was also at work, helping Dad at the factory.

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ I yelled from the kitchen.

  ‘No, just come and look at this will you! It’s hit the fan!’

  I poured a few drops of milk into my tea and dismissed my brother’s over-dramatic tone. I sauntered into the lounge, where David knelt in front of the television. He looked up at me and shuffled backwards to give me a better view of the screen.

  An anchorwoman stood in front of what looked like a shopping centre. Behind her, people were running and screaming. A stream of text scrolled across the bottom of the screen: so far there have been explosions in London, Manchester, Leeds Birmingham, Bristol ... The list went on. The anchorwoman spoke,

  ‘It’s the same story throughout Europe. Also, the U.S., Australia, South Africa, India … A global attack, the like of which has never been seen before ... thousands feared dead ... as I am speaking I am getting reports of still more explosions in Scotlan
d, in Cardiff ...’

  Sirens screamed behind her and she wore a crazed look, like she couldn’t believe the enormity of the story she was relating.

  ‘Oh my God.’ I felt sick. ‘David, what’s happening? I’m scared.’

  He turned to look at me and we both exhaled slowly through our mouths, at the same time. There had been a couple of terrorist attacks earlier in the summer, but nothing compared to the stories we now witnessed on the screen. I sensed this was something that wouldn’t be forgotten anytime soon.

  The next couple of weeks were odd. No one we knew of in our village had been hurt. But we all obsessively focused on the news. Four days after the first attacks, there were more bombings. Again, they were worldwide. Not as extensive as the first round of attacks, but still horrific, and enough to refuel a mass panic of the population. Nobody felt safe. There was none of the distance that normally accompanies big news stories. It all felt real and close. Most of us knew people who had been directly affected.

  Because the police had now diverted most of their efforts to stopping the attacks, there were too few of them to deal with the rapidly escalating crime wave that overtook the country. To try to prevent total chaos, the armed forces came onto the streets. Soldiers on the beat meant the police force could concentrate more fully on investigating the terror attacks. But, whilst they had intercepted a couple of plots, the enormity of the task they faced was plain for all to see.

  So far, there had been twenty-eight bombings in the first wave of attacks and nine in the second. And this was just in the UK. The devastation had been wrought by a combination of suicide bombers, sophisticated car bombs, plane hijacks and vicious nail bombs left in public areas. The attacks occurred in airports, sea ports, shopping centres, transport systems, office blocks and bars.

  The damage and suffering grew beyond anything anyone could have imagined and the world could only watch in horror as the death toll mounted each day.