by David Moody
‘I was starting to worry that you weren’t going to wake up,’ he told her. His voice was high-pitched and didn’t suit his heavyset body. ‘Eat up. You must be hungry.’ Only when he spoke again did Andria realise that he wasn’t putting the voice on or that her tired brain had imagined the tone. This was actually his voice. She watched him as he picked his own knife and fork up and start to eat the meal he’d set out in front of himself. She looked down at her own food; a plate of beans and half a slice of bread that hadn’t been buttered.
‘I’m sorry about the bread,’ he said, spraying food from his open mouth back onto his own plate as he spoke, ‘the other half was mouldy.’ He continued, ‘They add stuff into the ingredients to prolong the shelf-life but, well, I guess they weren’t counting on this happening, hey.’ He chuckled to himself as he shovelled another forkful of beans. ‘Seems I was one of the only ones who saw it coming.’ He looked up at Andria, ‘Saw it coming a mile off.’
‘Where am I?’ Andria asked again. Her voice was less-slurred this time.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me.’ He set his fork down for a moment and smiled his ugly smile, beaming at his guest. ‘You’re home.’
HOME
Andria had started screaming at the stranger - desperate for him to let her go, even going as far as throwing the plate of beans at him. He had responded with barely-contained aggression, slapping her in the face. Only later, when he had put her in this tiny box room, had he apologised. He’d told her he’d had little choice given the fact that she was hysterical. She had asked to be allowed to leave again but was told that there was nowhere else to go. This was her home now.
But it wasn’t her home.
Andria’s home was out in the country. A deluxe caravan, nicer than most houses. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, dishwasher, double-glazing, central heating. She had moved there with Rob once the kids had all grown up and moved to their own homes. An early retirement at fifty years of age, having worked in an elderly care home for most of her life. Peace and quiet, living with Rob and the dogs, pottering around and growing her own tomato plants. Her own slice of quiet heaven, surrounded by wildlife and solitude, despite the occupants of the other caravans being relatively close by.
The caravan site was Acre Farm Caravan Park, in Bewdley. Her plot was on the edge of the park by a stream, overlooking fields and trees.
That was her home. Not this. Not here.
Andria looked around the room in which she’d been abandoned. A small window with bars blocking a possible exit. A door which had been locked - by him - from the other side as he’d left her. A single bed with a small chest of drawers next to it. Nothing else.
She crossed the room to the door and tried the handle, despite knowing full well that he had locked it. It twisted in her hand but the door didn’t budge, not even when she pushed and pulled with all of her weight. Without worrying about the consequences, not caring if she angering him, she started to punch the door with her fists.
‘Let me out!’ She had screamed, not bothered that he would hear her but instead hoping someone else would. Someone else who’d take her away from this nightmare.
Nightmare? This isn’t a nightmare. This isn’t a dream. This is the world now. A world filled with monsters.
In the centre of the door was a metal flap. With no warning, it slid across revealing the man’s harsh facial features as he stared in. With nothing else to focus on, Andria couldn’t help but notice a look of frustration in his eyes.
‘You didn’t want to talk when I wanted to talk so now you have to wait. You need to go to sleep and we will talk tomorrow and, if you can’t sleep, you need to be quiet. It’s night-time out there now, and they’re more active at night...’
Andria went to say something but, before she even get the first words out, the metal flap slammed shut and she was alone again. She raised her hand, ready to slam her fist into the door again, but froze. Something he had said stuck in her mind, repeating over and over.
It’s night-time out there now, and they’re more active at night…
Reluctantly she lowered her fists. Even if they weren’t out there, she knew the chances of anyone else risking travelling during the night hours was minimal. The only people who travelled after dark were the ones who didn’t want to be seen, the ones with something to hide. The troublemakers looking for not who they could help, but what they could take. She turned towards the bed. She didn’t feel tired, despite the banging headache she still had from earlier, and she knew the chances of falling asleep were slim and yet, despite that, she knew she had to try. She needed strength for the morning. She needed strength for when he came back.
She crossed the room and climbed onto the hard mattress, her head leaning back on the lumpy pillow. For a moment she stared at the ceiling, her mind all over the place, then she closed her eyes. Sleep might not come easily tonight, but she had to try.
A CRUEL MIND
It wasn’t the way it had happened, but Andria knew what was coming. She also knew that she wasn’t in the real world again. She had managed to fall asleep, despite worrying she wouldn’t have been be able to. But now that she was asleep, and walking through her dream, she wished she could wake up again. She even pleaded with herself to do so. Wake up. Please wake up. You don’t need to see this...
She was standing in a field. Night had closed in around her. A blackness in the sky broken with a vivid shimmering of stars usually only visible with this intensity when viewed from a dark countryside setting, well away from the glow of towns and cities. But she wasn’t looking at the stars. She was looking at the line of trees before her. Specifically, she was looking at the space between the bushes that Rob had gone through, baseball bat in hand at the ready. Brave man investigating the screams from the woods.
Andria had begged him not to go. She had told him to wait until the morning when he’d be able to see properly. Whatever was happening would be more than evident in the morning. He had refused telling her that if he went in now he might be able to help, even though they both knew that when the screaming started, it was generally too late to do anything but run. Run before you find yourself the next potential victim.
The only reason she wasn’t running now, instead of waiting on the edge of the woods, was because she knew this wasn’t how it had happened. This wasn’t how he had died. Perhaps this dream - nightmare? - would have a different ending. Perhaps this wasn’t a time she’d wake up, tears streaming down her face having been forced to relive what had happened? She waited there in the dream with hope. Let him survive. Let him help whoever was screaming.
The bushes rustled to her left. Her head snapped to the side and her heart skipped a beat.
‘Hello?’
Another rustle.
‘Rob? Is that you?’
Rustle, rustle.
‘Who’s there?’
Rustle.
Andria took a step back as a figure tripped out of the bushes and landed on the field with its arms outstretched before it. As soon as it was able, it pulled itself up from where it had awkwardly dropped and Andria breathed an audible sigh of relief when she realised it was...
‘Rob?’
He looked different.
Damn this dream. Damn this dream to Hell. This isn’t how it happened. This isn’t how it happened. This isn’t right!
Rob snarled. Even in the dim light offered up by the moon high above, she could see his eyes had a reddish tint to them. This wasn’t the Rob that she loved. She took a step back as he took a step forward.
Why was she imagining it like this? This wasn’t what had happened. It hadn’t even happened at night. It had happened during the day and they had been in the caravan. She had gone in to check on him, as he laid in bed suffering with a fever. Being a bigger man, she had hoped he would have been able to fight the infection, but even he had been consumed by it in the end.
Her mind kept tossing the questions around in her head - even answering some of them, suggesting that t
he setting was night because of what he had said to her through the locked door. A thought which had worried her enough to stop her from banging on the door anymore but... even so... why couldn’t she have the dream in the field again? Why couldn’t she...
Rob lunged.
UNWANTED INTRODUCTIONS
The man was sitting opposite Andria at the dining room table again. In front of each of them was a bowl of cereal. Instead of milk, water had been used.
‘I used to know someone who used water instead of milk before everything changed. I always thought it was weird until I was forced to do the same when milk became harder to get hold of.’ He spooned a mouthful of soaked cereal into his mouth. ‘Now I know I was right. He was weird. It’s disgusting but...’ He swallowed. ‘It’s better than having it dry, right?’
Andria didn’t say anything. Neither did she try any of her own breakfast. She was just sitting there, watching this motherfucker, hoping he would tell her why he had brought her here. She had been doing fine on her own. Did he want to help her? Was that it? Did he think he was doing her a favour? She didn’t need his help. She had buried her whole family. She didn’t need anyone anymore.
The man swallowed another mouthful of food with a loud gulp. He set his spoon down and looked Andria dead in the eye. ‘Do you remember me?’ She looked at him with no recollection of ever seeing him before. He asked again, ‘Do you know my name?’ She still didn't answer. ‘I know your name. Andria Walker.’ That meant nothing. He could have gone through her belongings, those that she carried with her. ‘You really don’t remember, me do you?’ Again, she just sat there looking at him. ‘My dad’s name was Hank Greary. You cared for him...’ It clicked into place. The son of a man who used to be under Andria’s care, back when she was working in the care home. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw you - and saw the state of you.’ He paused a moment. ‘I’m sorry about your family.’
‘My family is fine,’ Andria snapped.
‘Oh, so that wasn’t their graves you were standing over? That wasn’t their blood splashed over your clothes?’ Andria looked down at the clothes she was wearing. A jumper and jeans. The blood had dried brown. ‘I’m not sure what happened. Not sure I want to know. There’s enough horror out there. I just knew I wanted to help you...’
‘So you kidnapped me.’
‘You’re not exactly a kid.’
Silence.
‘You were crying so loudly. You’re lucky I heard you while I was out there looking for more food. Could have been a lot worse. Could have been one of them...’
Andria didn’t say anything but part of her wished it had been one of them. At least it would have been over by now. She could have laid with her family, no care in the world.
‘...I knew I didn’t have time to convince you to come back with me. I hadn’t long since snuck past some of them, out in the woods, and I knew they would have been close behind. Did what I had to do to ensure you’d come and, honestly, I’m sorry if I hurt you. Didn’t mean to.’ He paused a moment, perhaps hoping Andria would say that it was okay and that she forgave him, but there was nothing. ‘Anyway, my name is Bob. I mean, my name is Robert but my friends call me Bob.’
‘If you were trying to help me yesterday than why was I restrained?’
‘Didn’t know how’d you wake up. Could have woken up like one of them, or even just angry. Had to protect myself.’ He paused a moment. ‘Not restrained now, are you?’
Andria looked down again. No restraints.
‘So I’m free to go?’
‘You can’t go.’
‘So I am a prisoner.’
‘You’re not a prisoner. You’re a guest. You can’t go because there is nowhere left to go out there.’
‘I have other family. My mother, June. And my brother Russ.’
‘Dead.’
Silence.
Bob explained, ‘Everyone is dead now. It’s just you and me and them.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘You’re the only person I saw out there.’
‘There are others.’
‘There aren’t. Did you see them?’
Andria had seen no one. The caravan park had been evacuated. Only her family had stayed behind, grouping together there as they’d figured it had been the safest place to wait for the real help to come. They had been wrong though, and it had cost them their lives. Well, everyone but Andria. She was the unlucky one who got to stay behind and ensure the family were buried. Make sure they didn’t join the ranks of them.
‘You were always so kind to my dad. It will be nice to look after you. I mean we always tipped you at Christmas, in a little card, but it’ll be nice to properly repay your kindness to my old father.’
‘I’m not staying here.’
Bob tried to hide his obvious frustration. He asked, ‘Where are you going to go? Everyone you know is dead and if you leave here, you’ll die too.’
Silence.
‘If you’re not going to eat, at least let me show you around?’
A NEW HOME
Bob looked proud of himself as he showed Andria around. A self-satisfied grin on his face which, somehow, made Andria feel a little more uncomfortable. He opened the next door and let her see the kitchen. The room was near enough bare other than a stack of tins in the corner. Tinned sweetcorn, tinned peas, tinned carrots, tinned soups, tinned beans... All with a long shelf-life.
‘I mean, I know it’s not perfect. We’re going to need food, but it is a start. There’s enough to last us a while.’ He paused a moment as Andria looked around the kitchen, scanning the various cans with a quick glance. ‘I try and go out once a week. No more than that though as I don’t want to be followed back, you know?’ When she didn’t answer again, he carried on explaining how he survived in this world. ‘Most of the nearby occupants have left, or they’ve joined them. Means that there is some food foraging to be had in the houses out there without having to travel for miles. Sadly the good food has already gone off but - yeah - tins. Lots of tins to help ourselves to. Not that I expect you to go out there, of course. You’re my guest. I’ll get the food in, you can just make sure the door is open for when I get back.’ Bob stepped from the room and waited for Andria to follow before closing the door. ‘I do ask that you keep the doors shut if you’re not staying in the room. No reason other than I prefer it like that. Makes things look tidier, you know?’ He started down the hallway towards the next room, but suddenly stopped in his tracks. ‘Oh, just a thought, there is some electricity thanks to the generator but, for obvious reasons, I prefer to keep it off at night. If you need to get around, there are boxes of candles. You can light one, keep it lit for as long as you need it, then put it out. Okay?’ Andria didn’t answer again. In her head, she was just waiting to find an opportunity to get away from him. Get out there and get back to her own home. ‘Found the candles in one of my neighbour’s homes. They had a stack of them. Not sure why. We rarely have power-cuts around here so it seems a little pointless, you know?’ He shrugged. ‘Still, what they did with their money was no business of mine. If they wanted to buy a ton of candles... so be it.’ He shrugged again and carried on down the corridor to the next door.
The living room.
The windows were boarded up with planks of wood. It wasn’t a good job. It was a quick job done out of necessity. Everything else in the room was normal enough; a television, a settee, a coffee table, a bookcase filled with books.
‘This is the day room,’ Bob said as he held the door open for Andria to step in. She didn’t though. She waited in the doorway.
‘What happened to your dad?’ she asked carefully, so as not to cause upset on the off-chance it was a sensitive subject.
‘Dead.’
Silence.
‘I’m sorry.’ Andria didn’t like Bob because of where she found herself now. Truth be told, she couldn’t remember him visiting the care home but she definitely remembered his father. He had been a quiet man who mostly kept himself
to himself. ‘Did he...?’
‘He died before they came,’ Bob said quietly, anticipating the rest of her question. ‘A blessing, I guess.’
‘What about other family members? Is there anyone else?’ Andria pushed him to answer. She hoped that, like her, he was alone. He looked down at the floor, avoiding eye-contact. Andria kept pushing, ‘I don’t remember Hank having any visitors other than you...’
Bob looked up. The sadness in his eyes was obvious, yet it was tinged with hope. ‘So you do remember me?’
‘Why would I not? You were there pretty much every week.’
Bob smiled. ‘I was.’
‘Yes, I remember.’
‘Dad was good to me. I wanted to be good to him when he needed me.’ He smiled. ‘You know I was there when he died, right? I was right there with him.’ Bob almost seemed proud of the fact. ‘He didn’t die alone.’
‘That’s good.’ She paused for a moment before asking, ‘But if...’ She stopped herself from finishing the sentence.
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t want to upset you. Forget I said anything.’
‘Please don’t do that. Talk to me. We’re friends,’ Bob said. The way he said friends sent a shiver down Andria’s spine. She reluctantly carried on with what she was saying.
‘How come you’re doing all this?’ she asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘How come you’re still fighting? You know, before you found me, I was contemplating ending my own life. I’d rather go out on my terms. I just wondered, with things the way they are, why would you want to carry on fighting?’ She figured that if she could convince him that there was nothing left to live for then maybe he’d let her go so that he could end his own, miserable life.
‘Because I promised my dad that I wouldn’t give up.’
