The Savage Road: A post-apocalyptic survival series (A World Torn Down Book 2)

by Rebecca Fernfield

  “I don’t want to leave you, Cassie.”

  “It’s OK, Lina. Just take the bags and wait for me in the storeroom. OK?”

  She nods and holds out her hands for the bags. “If you’re sure.”

  “I am,” Cassie returns hooking the bag’s straps over Lina’s outstretched hand. “Grab another box of cereals as you go past,” Cassie urges as the girl walks back up the aisle.

  Peering out from the end of the shelves, she can see the batteries. Small, square packets hang in columns in a display case at the end of the till. Which are double A’s? She remembers. The same size she’d had to find for Dan to put in the remote a few months ago when Bella had been sick. They were the second size, not the smallest ones. She checks down to the manager’s office. The woman is sitting at the desk, wagging her finger at Murray. He seems tense and turns to look out the window as she continues talking at him, the frown on his face shows his discontent. He turns back to face the barrage of words from the woman and Cassie makes her move, shuffling across to the hanging packs of batteries. As she reaches up to take a packet, the door of the office slams open, the muffled voices suddenly clear.

  “Carl” Saskia calls. “Where is that stupid oaf? Carl!” she calls again.

  Cassie crouches low as the woman strides across the floor, her heels tacking hard on the tiles.

  “It’s starting to stink in here,” she says and stops just feet away from Cassie, then turns and clacks past the tills. Cassie holds her breath as the woman strides past, watches her black heels clack, clack over the tiles, the bare feet in the strappy sandals browned by the sun, her slim legs clad in tight-fitting blue jeans. Cassie’s chest is tight and she bites her lip to press down the fear bubbling in her stomach. If she turns round now! Saskia stops in the middle of the aisle and bends to grasp the loaf of bread Cassie had dropped, a deep frown creasing between her brows.

  ***

  Murray groans as Saskia marches along the aisle, calling back her commands to him, writing pad and pen in hand.

  “There’s loaves of bread here gone rotten, Murray,” Saskia exclaims, the tone of accusation thick in her voice. Murray groans. Doesn’t she ever shut up? “Get them shifted,” she demands. “Murray!” she calls back. “Are you listening.”

  He groans again. “Do I have any choice?” he shouts back. She really is beginning to get on his wick!

  “It’s starting to stink in here,” she complains as he joins her.

  “It is,” he replies. “It’s the chillers. Since the power went off, all the stuff inside has started to perish. It’s all going rotten.”

  “Get Carl and Loz in here. Tell them to get some trolleys and start emptying the chillers. Everything’s starting to rot and it’ll stink this place up like some fetid hellhole if we don’t get rid of it.”

  “Loz!” Murray calls.

  “Don’t just shout for them. Go fetch them.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, woman!”

  “Tell them,” she turns on him, the steely glint in her eyes makes his belly clench, “to take it out the back and put it in the bins.” She stands at her full height, notepad and pen clutched in her hand. “And make sure you close the lids. We don’t want to encourage rats.” She shudders. “Rats! I just cannot abide rats and if they get in here we can say goodbye to the lot!”

  “Or the dogs,” adds Murray. “I’ve seen a good few roaming the streets the last few days and some seem to be forming packs.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have let Carl go round letting them out of the houses.”

  “He couldn’t stand to listen to them howl. I had to let him. We couldn’t leave them in there to die.”

  “No? Well you should have thought ahead. What are hundreds of stray dogs going to do without owners, hey? No one to feed them, no one to keep them under control? Huh?”

  “I dunno!” he says, exasperation thick in his voice.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she returns. “They form packs. Vicious packs of hungry dogs.”

  “Well, they can’t get in here and steel your precious tins of soup and Irish stew, can they!”

  “Oh Murray,” she says standing turning on her heels to face him, her head tilted up to scowl into his eyes. “No, they won’t. They’ll just try to eat anything that moves.”

  “You’re exaggerating. They’re just bloody cockapoos and flippin’ shitty shitzus. Family pets. Not even real dogs.”

  “They’ve got teeth, don’t they?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “And bellies?”

  “Of course they’ve got bellies, Saskia. What’s your point?”

  “My point, Murray, is that shitty shitzus and cockapoos get as hungry as any animal.”

  “They’re just family pets, Saskia. And anyway, there’s plenty of dog food here. Carl has been feeding them, so they won’t go hungry.”

  “What? Carl has been feeding them?”

  “What’s wrong with that? It’s cruel to let them starve.”

  “How the hell didn’t I notice that!” she mutters and struts to the aisle with the dog food. The shelf, half full yesterday, holds a meagre ration of tins. “Looks like they’ve been having a feast! It’s pretty much all gone.”

  “Well, we weren’t going to eat it were we!”

  “Oh no? You think not? You think that once the other food has gone you wouldn’t have chowed down on a tin of Meacher’s Prime?”

  “No way! I’m not eating that muck. It’s probably horse meat.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right, but when you’re starving to death next year I’ll remind you that you let that muppet feed our supplies to the dogs!”

  “For crying out loud, Saskia. Don’t’ you ever stop bitching?”

  “Murray! Murray!”

  “Don’t they ever do anything without shouting,” Saskia complains as the sound of Loz’s boots thudding on the bright tiles rings through the deserted supermarket.

  “Here!” Murray calls, offering his voice as a locator. “In the pet aisle”.

  Loz appears at the end of the aisle, his face flushed.

  “What is it man?” Saskia asks.

  “We’ve got visitors!” he blurts.

  “What?” she replies, turning to Murray. “I told you to get them kids sorted. Where are they?”

  “It’s not them. It’s some new people. A man and a bunch of little kids.”

  “Get rid of them,” she returns, her voice cold.

  “What do you mean ‘get rid of them?”

  “I mean dispose of them.”

  “Dispose of them? Kill them you mean?”

  “What else does ‘dispose of them’ mean? Throw a party and give all our food away?” she snaps.

  “But … we can’t do that!” Murray interjects.

  “Why not? We can’t let them stay. We have to protect our supplies.”

  “We can’t just kill people because they’re hungry.”

  “Listen. People are vicious—once you scrape away at the surface. Do you think they won’t cut our throats to get to this lot?” she says nodding back to the aisles stacked with the food not taken by the looters in the early days of the outbreak.

  “Well-”

  “Well nothing! It’s self-preservation, that’s all.”

  “But they’re just kids.”

  “Yeah, exactly. We don’t want a pack of mewling brats eating us out of house and home, Murray!”

  “No, but-”

  “No, buts, Murray,” she rounds on him. “Get the boys together and sort these visitors out. They’re not coming in here and I want them out of town,” she says staring into Murray’s eyes, waiting for his challenge. A moment of silence passes between them.

  “Loz. Get Carl. We have a problem to deal with.”

  Chapter Ten

  “You’d best sort them rats in the carpark out, Murray! You’d just best.” The shrill voice fills the muggy air as Cassie sways on her crouched feet, the pounding of her heart painful against her ribs. She h
as to warn the others. Murray struts past her crouched position just as she sways and loses her balanced. The batteries clutched to her chest tumble with a clack onto the hard tiles.

  “What the!” he exclaims as Cassie’s knee hits the floor and she falls onto her side.

  She scrabbles against the tiles, pushing herself up, but as she pushes up onto her knees Murray towers over her. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” he snarls as he lurches forwards and grabs her arm. His fingers are steel in her soft flesh and her shoulder rips as he yanks her to her feet and grabs her other arm.

  “What the hell’s that, Murray?” Saskia snaps as she jerks her head to look at Cassie locked in Murray’s grip. “Pah! A great big bloody rat! What did I tell you,” she says, her voice peevish as she tacks her way angrily across the tiles, storming towards Cassie, “they want to eat us out of house and home!”

  Cassie jerks and butts back against Murray, her head thrashing at his chest, no chance of catching his face and dislodging him. “Pah! Struggle all you want, my Murray’s strong,” Saskia continues staring into Cassie’s eyes. “Come in here and steel my food, would you?”

  “I came in for my kids. They’re hungry. They need to eat.”

  “Like I told you, Murray, they’ll eat us out of house and home,” she continues looking over Cassie’s shoulder to Murray, then returns her steel gaze. “This is our supermarket. This food is ours. It’s for me and Murray.”

  “And me!” Carl interrupts.

  “Yes, and you!” she snaps, turning to him. “And if you want to have any of it you’d better get rid of those brats in the car park. Now go, before I make you regret it.”

  Cassie watches as Carl hesitates. Saskia’s eyes narrow.

  “Tell him to go, Murray,” she seethes. “Murray!” she waits.

  “Do what she says, Carl,” Murray concedes with a snap. “Take the bows and sort them out.”

  “But-”

  “No buts, Carl,” she continues stepping towards him, “or when Sergei gets back I’ll make sure he deals with your ‘buts’. Understand?”

  Cassie watches as the man pales, nods and walks up to Loz and they both disappear past the entrance. She strains to watch them but Murray pulls her back round to face Saskia. A door opens then closes and men’s footsteps tell her they’re walking to the back, towards the storeroom. Lina! She bucks again against Murray. His grip tightens and she grimaces and grunts with the pain. She scans the aisles for the girl.

  “Who else is with you,” Saskia snaps, catching Cassie’s desperate search.

  “No one,” Cassie responds, angry that she’s given Lina away. Get away, Lina! Run back to Rick. She’s got to warn the others. She bucks again.

  “Settle down, woman,” Murray growls in her ear. “You’re not going nowhere.”

  ***

  Rick steps back and flattens himself against the wall, bracing himself as the heavy steel door swings open onto his body. He offers his shoulder to the bank of white to soften the impact and hooks his fingers over the steel edge to keep it from ricocheting back onto whoever flung it open. They can’t know he’s there.

  “Not sure if I’m up to this, Loz.”

  “Sure you are. We do what Murray says. You know what he’s like.”

  “Yeah, but crossbows! It’s a bit heavy handed.”

  “Get a grip, Carl. We’ve got a job to do. Times have changed. Everyone’s the enemy now. Dog eat dog world it is.”

  The man’s grating voice trails away as he walks forward, his belly overhanging his grubby jeans, his hand clasped around a heavy crossbow. Rick frowns. A crossbow like that would do a body some serious damage. He can’t let them shoot at Cassie and the kids, not even at Dan. He slowly closes the door as the two men turn the corner at the other end of the building and follows them, his steps light along the concrete path that circuits the building. As he reaches the corner, the men are crouched low behind the boot of a blue 4x4. Across the carpark Zak and Dan stand oblivious to them. And the kids? He scans the area until he sees them safe in the car’s back seats. His brow furrows. The two men stand. Rick’s heart beats steady as he watches them fumble with the heavy crossbows. They’re obviously amateurs, but still, if they get lucky! He walks out beyond the front of the supermarket, his steps slow, his breathing steady, and crouches behind decorative shrubs. Large rocks lie scattered over the soil between the grass and the path. He takes one and stands up from behind the leafy border, the rock heavy and reassuring in his hand. The taller man with the bloated belly lifts his arm, resting the weight of the crossbow on his other left forearm. Rick lifts his arm, the rock gripped firm, the gritty earth scratching against his skin. The man spreads his legs to hip width, steadying himself for aim. Rick reaches his arm back, the muscles in his back stretch. The thug pulls the bow to eye level, string pulled back, steel-pointed bolt poised for flight and Rick grunts and hurls the rock with might, his bicep ripping with the effort. He watches as the boulder arcs high.

  Crack!

  The man lurches forward and the bolt triggers, skittling harmless against the tarmac. His head crashes hard against the blue metal of the 4x4’s back door and the boulder bounces against the rear window. The window shatters, and the boulder drops through the jigsaw of cracked glass to the interior leaving a hole in the shattered pane. The shorter man jerks away and swirls round as his colleague slumps to the ground. His eyes stare wildly at Rick, dart back to the man unconscious on the floor, then he sprints across the front of the supermarket and disappears into the foyer. Rick walks over to the fallen man and kicks at his boot. The man groans, blood seeping from the gash to the back of his head where the rock made impact.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cassie pulls against Murray as he drags her towards the office. Saskia’s tight fist smashes against the huge window. “Bloody idiots!” she seethes as Carl runs across the carpark and stomps back into the foyer, his breath heavy, loud even from where she is.

  “Murray!” Carl calls from the foyer and runs past the tills.

  “What is it?” he snaps, jolting Cassie as he turns from Saskia’s angry stare to the wild-eyed man.

  “They got Loz. He’s on the floor. His head’s bleeding”

  “Your idiots can’t do a simple job, Murray!” Saskia spits.

  “I can’t listen to the two of you,” Murray snaps in reply then turns back to Carl. “Is he dead?”

  “No. I dunno. Maybe.”

  “I’ll sort this out myself,” Saskia continues ignoring Murray’s reprimand and grabs the crossbow from Carl’s hand as she clacks past him.

  “Where are the bolts?” she seethes.

  “Stop!” Cassie shouts. “Just stop. We’ll leave, ok. We’ll leave and you’ll never see us again. Just leave the kids alone.”

  “Too late, dear,” Saskia sneers, the spite clear in her eyes. She locks her cold gaze to Cassie’s. “You came in here thieving. Now you can pay the price.”

  “I came in thieving. They didn’t”

  “Same difference to me,” she says, her voice flat as she turns on her heels and strides to the other side of the entrance.

  “Let me go!” she begs staring at Carl. “Don’t let her do it. Please, we’ll leave if you let me go.”

  “Boss?” Carl questions.

  “What? You think I should let her go?”

  “Well, Saskia … they’re just kids, boss.”

  “Kids who’ll eat us out of house and home. Saskia …”

  Murray’s grip seems to loosen for a second. Cassie pulls against him and drops like a deadweight.

  “No!” he says tightening his grip, yanking Cassie back to her feet. She yelps in pain as his fingers pinch into her triceps. “Saskia’s right. They need getting rid of.”

  “For the love of God, man! They’re just kids.”

  His grip loosens again at Carl’s horrified reprimand. Cassie gathers all her strength and swings her arms back twisting in Murray’s grip and drops again, forcing her weight down to the ground.
Murray, unbalanced, lurches forward, and loses his grip, his fingers slipping over the fabric of her shirt. She rolls away from him as he lurches, grasping at her again. Grabbing the top lip of the till’s counter, she pulls herself up and darts back along the aisle.

  “Get her”

  “No. You get her.”

  “You’ll pay for this, Carl!”

  Footsteps sound out behind and she looks back to see Murray pushing off from the till and lurching towards her. She slips, knocks into the glass door of a chiller, and loses her balance sliding over the leaked and creamy mess of defrosted ice cream. Whirling, she crashes to the other side of the aisle, knocking jars of tomato sauce and pasta to the floor. They smash as she falls to her knees. Murray swears behind her, his voice loud in her ear. Frantic, she pulls at the shelves, desperate for her boots to find purchase. When they do, she pushes off from the shelves and careers down the aisle to the back of the shop. As she reaches the end, Murray shouts. Turning, she sees him slip in the oozing ice cream, landing on all fours his hands flat and covered in the red sauce that has spilled across the floor.

  “Aagh!” he shouts again holding up his hands. A shard of glass glints in the dimming light, sticking at an angle from his raised and open palm.

  Unable to take her eyes away Cassie watches as he stares at it then reaches to pull it out. She has to move. He’ll be up within seconds. She has to stop Saskia. She can’t let her shoot at the children. The men may have been incompetent, but she knows that Saskia is a whole different world of bad.

  ***

  “There’s someone down there,” Kyle says.

  “Yeah, Murray and his merry men!” Finn retorts and steps forward. Kyle’s arm pushes against her belly, forcing her to stop. She doesn’t resist and instead squints hard into the distance, over the field and down the slope to the black tarmac of the supermarket carpark. To the side, at the furthest point from the shop, at the wooded entrance, sit two cars she hasn’t noticed before. “Are those people?” she asks, struggling to focus on the colours that seem to be moving between the two cars.