by Ryan Casey
Something happened, then.
It happened almost instinctively. It even took Holly by surprise.
Holly launched herself at Alison, knife in hand, and knocked her to the ground.
“Don’t you ever speak about my dad. Don’t you dare speak about my life before.”
She saw it, then. As if she was witnessing this whole thing from outside of her body.
Her knife on Alison’s neck.
Alison looking up at her. Not just fear anymore. Not just disbelief anymore.
But the same way all Holly’s victims looked up at her.
That look of pleading in her eyes.
She saw it, just for a second, and then she pulled her knife away and climbed off Alison.
She walked away. Head spinning. Dizziness in her body.
She heard Alison get up. Heard her stand to her feet. And when she looked over her shoulders, she saw her looking at her in a wholly different way.
“You’re dangerous,” Alison said.
“I’m sor—”
“You’re dangerous, and you’re going to stay the hell away from me from now on. You’re going to stay the hell away from me, and you’re going to stay the hell away from everyone.”
Holly heard Alison’s words, and she knew what they meant. This was it. This was where their paths separated. The point where they went their different ways.
And as much horror had ensued between them, Holly still didn’t want that. She still didn’t want to say goodbye to Alison. Not now. Not after everything they’d been through.
“I can change,” Holly said.
Alison smiled. She shook her head. “You can’t change. Face it, Holly. Deep down, you don’t even want to change. And I… I can’t stick by someone like that anymore.”
She turned around, looked into the woods. And then she looked back at Holly, rucksack over her shoulders.
Holly thought about asking for some food. She thought about asking for rations.
But she knew Alison could be tough when she wanted to be.
She knew she wasn’t just going to hand them over.
“I wanted to stand by you,” Alison said. “I thought… I thought maybe even one day, we could find your dad again. But I can see the truth now. Your dad wouldn’t even want to see you like this. You’re better off on your own.”
A tingling sensation up the back of Holly’s neck.
Tightening her grip on her knife.
Seeing Alison for what she was and that bag of supplies for what they were, too.
She started walking towards Alison. “You really shouldn’t have said that.”
Alison reached for her pocket. Took out her knife. And Holly was under no illusions—Alison would use it on her if she felt it would protect her.
But she had to switch off her sentimentality now.
She had to switch off her long-standing denial.
It was Alison or her getting those supplies, and she wasn’t going to let Alison walk without—
The next thing happened so fast.
First, a shot.
A shot from somewhere to the right.
And then Alison shouted out, turned around, disappeared into the woods.
Holly froze. She didn’t understand. Not at first.
Not until she saw him emerge from the trees.
The man. Ian. The dad of the boy Holly had killed; husband of the woman she’d attacked.
He lifted his hunting rifle as Alison disappeared into the trees, and he pointed it at Holly.
“You’d better run, girl,” he said.
Then he pulled the trigger.
Chapter Eighteen
Mike stood at the edge of the woods and looked back at the place he’d called home for the last few months.
Clouds suffocated the winter sun. The snow was beginning to fall again. Or perhaps that was just the ash from the burning buildings. Either way, it filled him with trepidation, reminded him that he was in the thick of winter.
He looked back at that building. Looked at the window he and Kelsie had jumped out from. He looked at the room he used to call home. Inside, he swore he saw movement. He swore he saw struggling.
He swore he heard screaming.
He felt hatred towards the people who’d done this to his people. The savages who had attacked in this way, seemingly for no other reason than to cause chaos.
He wanted to go back in there. He wanted to slaughter every single one of them without mercy.
But he felt a tightening grip on his hand and that reminded him he had bigger things on his plate; other things to worry about.
He looked around.
Kelsie was staring up at him with those big blue eyes of hers. There were dark circles underneath. And they worried him. They worried him because Kelsie was diabetic. Fatigue and tiredness were two strong symptoms. She was going to struggle out here, now that her medication had been destroyed in the fire, in the attack. He had to get her to somewhere she could be looked after all over again.
But looking into her eyes, that dread filled him again.
The memory that she was going to run out of meds eventually. The country was going to run out of meds eventually.
And when it did…
He took in a sharp, deep breath. He couldn’t think about that. Not now. It was just too tough to swallow.
“Is there anyone else going to come with us?” Kelsie asked.
Mike looked back at the burning buildings. He thought about the way Claire had so bravely sacrificed herself to save him and Kelsie. That was a sacrifice he’d never forget—but at the same time one he had to honour. Because without it, he wouldn’t still be here. Neither of them would still be here.
He let go of his breath, as much as he wanted to tell Kelsie that the pair of them weren’t going to be going on their journey ahead alone. “I don’t think so, Kelsie. I really don’t think so.”
Sadness spread across her face as she looked back at her home. She’d been through so much already. This was just another cruel twist of the knife. “So where do we go now?” she asked.
Mike looked back at the woods. Again, as much as he wanted to stay here and punish this group for what they’d done—for everything good here that they’d torn apart—he knew Kelsie was his responsibility. He knew he couldn’t put her at risk by staying here. That would just be putting Claire’s great sacrifice in vain.
“We’re going to go out there,” Mike said. “We’re going to find somewhere new to stay, you and me. And we’re going to beat this world. Together. What do you say?”
Kelsie looked back at her home. Mike could tell there was something on her mind.
“I know it’s not easy,” he said. “Leaving this place. It’s been good to us. But—”
“Will I die?” Kelsie asked.
Mike frowned. “No. No you won’t die.”
Kelsie looked concerned. “But Claire didn’t think she was going to die. Miranda didn’t think she was going to die. So if they didn’t think they were going to die… what if we die?”
Mike felt bad for Kelsie. A kid of her age shouldn’t be having existential debates like this. He crouched opposite her. Took her hands in his.
“We’re not going to die, chicken. I’m not going to die, and you especially are not going to die.”
“Promise?” Kelsie asked.
Mike knew better than to make promises he couldn’t keep.
But he’d be damned if he didn’t keep this one.
“I promise,” he said.
Kelsie smiled, then. She leaned in, hugged him. And at that moment, Mike felt himself flashing back, not to the horrors of his past in conflict like he used to, but to a nicer memory. To Holly hugging him, wrapping her arms around him, holding him.
He let the warmth of Kelsie spread through his body when he heard something behind him.
Footsteps.
When he looked over his shoulder, he saw him.
There was a man standing there.
He had a spear i
n his hand and a smile on his face.
And under his arm, he was holding something.
Something that made Kelsie scream.
He lifted it. Threw it over to Mike, as it landed at his feet.
“Think you forgot something,” the man said.
Mike looked down at the thing on the ground beneath him.
His body went numb.
Sickness crept up into his mouth.
The wide eyes from Claire’s severed head pierced up at him.
Chapter Nineteen
Sofia opened her eyes, and for a moment, she forgot about the nightmare that she’d been living for these last few hours.
It was light outside. She had no real idea if it had been a few hours or a few weeks, in all truth. She’d lost all sense of time, all sense of space.
All she knew was that it was real. The events, as they’d unfolded… they’d actually happened, and it wasn’t just a figment of her tortured imagination.
Tommy really was gone.
She really had been stabbed by that girl. Not too badly, it seemed. She could sense it when the girl had taken a swing at her. She saw that reluctance, that resistance, in her eyes.
But still.
All of it was real.
She felt like crying, but there were no tears left inside her. Now, there was just emptiness. Sheer emptiness right in the pit of her gut.
An emptiness that would never be filled by anyone.
She called out Ian’s name, but she knew right away that he wasn’t in here.
She looked around. She was in bed now. When she went to move, she felt a pain. She looked down and saw her stab wound that Ian had cleaned up and stitched. She didn’t feel too bad moving with it. She was lucky.
Or it was planned.
It wasn’t intended to kill her.
But why?
Why?
She sat upright. Thought about Ian. As much as he was skilled and measured, there was one area where he fell quite drastically.
And that was his inability to forgive other people.
Sofia got to her shaky feet and walked out of the bedroom, onto the landing. The whole house felt empty without Tommy. It felt like she was living in a bubble; a bubble of grief that hadn’t yet burst.
She knew she had to get through it. She knew she had to press on.
Because she knew Ian was in trouble.
And she knew what he was like when he was grieving.
She wasn’t talking about blindly forgiving the girl who’d murdered her son then stabbed her. It went without saying that she wanted revenge just as much as her husband did. She wanted that girl to pay for what she’d done.
And she would.
But she remembered what Ian was like when Corey died. He was determined to blame people. He held other people responsible. He took his anger out on people in the shops and on the streets. He even got barred from a couple of pubs in town for starting on people.
He had so much pent up anger, and he just wanted to get it out somehow.
That was a problem. Because Sofia knew Ian lost perspective when he was suffering.
And that loss of perspective could tear him apart.
She struggled down the stairs. Reached the kitchen. She called out Ian’s name a few times, just in case. She only had a feeling he wasn’t here. But sometimes feelings could be wrong. Sometimes intuition could be wrong.
The more she searched the farmhouse, the more certain she became that her instincts had been spot on all along.
She struggled across the kitchen floor over to the door, and she saw it.
The little dinosaur book that Tommy loved. The one that listed all the different types of dinosaurs, the ones he knew the names off-by-heart.
It was lying on the floor beside a few of his other favourite toys.
And it almost got Sofia again, then. It almost caught up with her, brought her to her knees.
And she would allow the grief to take a hold again, when the time was right.
She would allow herself to go through the hell that she knew was no doubt inevitable.
But right now, she needed to find Ian.
Right now, she couldn’t risk the thought that he was out there hunting down someone who was quite clearly dangerous.
Dangerous enough to attack her.
Dangerous enough to kill her Tommy.
She stepped outside. She didn’t want to leave the comfort of her home. She didn’t want to go anywhere right now.
But Ian needed a rock right now. He needed someone to bring him back from the brink.
They would get their revenge on that girl. They would get it, in time.
But not now.
Not right now.
They’d get their revenge together, when they had the chance to plan.
So she grabbed a hammer from the pile of tools in the garage and headed off into the woods—as much as she knew she was risking it.
She walked through the trees. Walked towards the traps. She retraced the steps she’d made what felt like an eternity, a whole lifetime, ago.
And as she kept on going, she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to make this.
Then she saw something.
There was movement up ahead.
She felt a knot in her stomach as she walked through the trees. She tightened her grip on the hammer.
And when she saw that movement again, she realised something.
It was a person.
A knot in her chest. Tension in her body. The girl. The girl who’d killed Tommy.
It could be her.
And if it was her… Sofia couldn’t hold back.
She’d have to do whatever she had to do.
She’d have to do what was right.
She pulled the branches aside, and she saw who was lying there.
It was the woman.
The woman who’d been with the girl. The one who’d killed Tommy.
She was sitting behind the trees, hiding, peering through the branches.
She hadn’t heard Sofia approaching yet.
Sofia heard the shuffling in the distance, then. She heard a gunshot. And she knew. She just knew.
But then she looked back down at this woman, and something else possessed her.
Something else took over her.
She leaned over towards her. Got so close behind her, heard her shaking, heard her teeth chattering.
Then she pulled back the hammer and pressed the sharp end to the side of her head.
“Let’s get you back to the farmhouse,” Sofia said. “It’s time we had a conversation about what you’ve done.”
Chapter Twenty
Holly sprinted through the woods as the man called Ian fired his rifle at her.
But all the way, she couldn’t get Alison out of her head.
She’d watched her disappear. She had to hope she hadn’t taken a bullet. A gunshot at any time was serious, but especially now, out here in the woods.
All she had, at least, was that Ian was chasing her, which meant Alison still had a chance of making it. She still had a chance of surviving out there.
Unless she was dead already.
She’d heard gunshots. She knew it was a possibility. It had to be.
She swallowed a lump in her throat, convinced herself that couldn’t be the case. She cared about Alison. Even after what’d gone down between them, she thought the world of her, and nothing was coming between them.
She’d been wrong to react in that way to Alison. She was just trying to get Holly to see the whole picture, after all—just trying to make her see that she was too far gone.
They could debate morals and ethics later.
Right now, all that mattered was getting away from the man called Ian.
Another bullet flew past Holly, missing her by inches. She wanted to turn around and check exactly where Ian was, but she knew doing so would just slow her down.
She could hear his footsteps, hear him chasing her. And it sounded like the footsteps o
f a man who wasn’t giving up.
Why would he, after all?
She’d killed his son.
Hurt his wife. Even though she’d not intended to stab her that hard. It was just a diversion tactic. Just a flesh wound.
But still. She had to see it from his perspective.
What did he have left to lose?
She kept on going, kept on running through the trees. She was losing her sense of direction, growing disoriented as this invisible force kept on pursuing her. She was almost relying on Ian’s gunshots and footsteps to remind her where he was, therefore by extension where she was.
She was about to race though the trees and ahead when she stopped suddenly.
There was an icy pond right ahead of her.
The ice didn’t look all that thick.
She looked to her left and to her right. She’d have to try and go around it. There was no way she was going over it.
She started to run to the left when she heard the footsteps right behind her, then heard the gunshots.
She stopped. Froze. Ian was right behind. He was too close. She wasn’t going to be able to make it around the pond. She had to go over it.
She looked at it. The ice looked thin and fragile. It didn’t look like it’d be enough to support her bodyweight.
But the alternative was definitely dying at the hands of Ian. Maybe worse, after what she’d done to him.
She put a foot on the icy pond. She’d felt coldness. But the thought of plunging to the bottom of it went beyond any coldness she’d already experienced.
But then Ian’s footsteps were getting closer.
Her time was running out.
She swallowed a thick lump in her throat then walked onto the pond.
She heard the ice creaking underfoot as she moved. The more she moved, the more she sensed her own vulnerability. She should never have allowed herself to get into this situation. She’d been foolish. She’d been complacent.
She reached the middle of the pond, picking up her pace.
And as she looked down, she saw that this pond went even deeper than she’d first thought. It was a proper bog. The kind of thing she wouldn’t get out of if she fell into.
