by Ryan Casey
“Don’t do anything,” Margery said. “Please. Please don’t do anything.”
“I’m gonna come in this building whether you like it or not. One way or another, I’m gonna come in here. And you know what’s gonna happen when I do.”
There was silence for a moment. Stillness. A ceasefire between the two sides. Margery seemed to know what was going on, what this was about. Dad looked puzzled, confused. Garth peered in, that smile on his face.
“No?” he said. “Never mind then.”
He lowered his gun.
Fired at the door.
The bullets ricocheted through the wood and inside the room. The rattling gunfire made the children cry even more as Garth destroyed the handle.
And as he fired, Chloë found herself walking to the side of Kesha’s cot. Lifting her out with her one good arm. Holding her. Because she didn’t want Kesha to get hurt. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt… but especially not Kesha.
“You have to take her,” Margery said.
“What are you telling my daughter?” Dad asked.
“Chloë, listen to me,” Margery said as Garth kicked at the door. “You have to take Kesha and you have to leave. Leave the way I told you.”
Chloë held on to Kesha. She couldn’t understand or comprehend what Margery was asking of her properly. She didn’t understand why she only wanted her to take Kesha, now. Why she was putting Kesha before the other kids.
But she could tell from the look on Margery’s face that she was serious.
The door caved in. Garth stepped inside.
Margery stood. Threw herself at Garth. “You leave these children alone—”
“Shut up.” He pushed her down. Knocked her to the floor. Her head cracked against the hard surface.
“Woah,” Dad said. He lifted his hands as Garth waved the gun around the room. Now the door was open, the battle going on outside seemed all the more real, literally on their doorstep. “Don’t do anything rash. We just… we just want to understand. Want to understand what this is about.”
Garth didn’t look like he was listening. His wide eyes just scanned the cots. Looked at all the babies.
Then they stopped at the empty cot.
Chloë saw Garth frown. He walked over to the cot. Margery reached for his boot on the way, but he just stood down on her wrist, stamped it against the floor.
He stopped at the empty cot. Looked at it. His face going pale.
Then his eyes moved to Chloë at the back of the building.
The colour returned to his cheeks. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. He lowered his gun. “Come on, kid. Let the grown-ups talk.”
“Chloë, don’t listen to him,” Margery gasped.
“Not safe for a baby in here,” Garth said. He walked closer to Chloë. “So why don’t you hand her over to me? Let me take her out of this place. Looks like the pair of you’s got quite a thing going on.”
“Chloë, don’t!”
“Shut up!”
Garth crouched down. Pressed the pistol to the side of Margery’s head.
“Garth,” Dad said. “I... You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do any of this.”
But Garth kept his eyes on Chloë. Kept his gun to Margery’s head, as tears poured down her cheeks. “Don’t play the rebel with me, girl. Hand over the kid. And nobody has to get hurt.”
Chloë held onto Kesha. Looked from Margery to her dad, then back to Margery again. “I–”
“Hand her over,” Garth said, standing again, “or I’ll kill you and everyone in here.”
“He’s lying, Chloë,” Margery said. “He won’t kill Kesha. He won’t kill her because—”
Garth pulled back his pistol and swung it against the back of Margery’s skull.
Chloë heard the deafening thunk as it knocked the consciousness out of her.
Blood oozed out of her scalp.
“Now,” Garth said, rising to his feet. He pointed the gun right at Chloë. “Are you gonna play this game or are you gonna hand the kid over right this second, girl?”
NINE
Chloë held onto Kesha and stared at the gun pointed at her.
Garth still had that smile on his face. Margery lay on the floor, silent. Blood pooled out of the crack on the back of the head where Garth hit her with his gun. Chloë wasn’t sure whether she was alive or dead. Whatever she was right now, she knew she wouldn’t be alive for long.
Dad stood behind Garth. Stared at Chloë.
“Things don’t have to get nasty here,” Garth said. He edged closer towards Chloë. Beside him, the babies in their cots cried and wailed. Outside, gunfire and shouts erupted ever closer. The air was thick with the smell of burning. Chloë tasted vomit building in her mouth.
She backed away some more. Held onto Kesha. She wanted to walk away. To get away from this.
But another part of her wanted to just hand Kesha over. Because Garth said everything would be okay if she did. He was just trying to make sure Chloë didn’t run away with one of Bardsey Island’s babies, that’s all this was.
But why?
Why was he so concerned about Kesha?
Why was everyone so concerned about Kesha?
“Your daddy here. He’ll be fine if you just hand the little baby over. Your friend on the floor here, Margery… well, she looks like she’ll have a nasty bruise in the morning. But nothing that won’t heal. And the rest of our audience…”
Garth looked around at the babies in the cots. That smile on his face widened. He looked back at Chloë, gun in hand. “They’ll be okay. As long as you just do as you’re told.”
Chloë looked over her shoulder. Saw the passageway that led to the back door. She could try running. But she knew if she tried running that she might get a bullet. And then her dad would die, and everyone in this room would die.
She couldn’t let her dad die.
“Why do you want her?” Chloë asked.
Garth’s smile twitched. He leaned on the side of one of the cots. “Why do I want her? I want her because this is our island now. And wherever you two are planning on going, you better drop those plans.”
“That’s not all,” Chloë said.
“What?”
“There’s something else. Like Margery said. Why do you… why do you want Kesha?”
Garth’s smile returned again. He looked down at the cots. At the babies inside them. “You know, I never liked kids your age. Always way too lippy. Need to learn a bit of respect. A bit of perspective.”
“Why do you want her?”
“Of course, I could teach you respect. I could teach it you right here. But you aren’t gonna like my methods. Something tells me you aren’t gonna like ’em one bit.”
Chloë looked down at the floor.
“I’ll let you go, kid. If you just put the girl back with the rest of the babies, I’ll let you go. Hell, I’ll thank you for it. But you don’t take one of our own. You don’t take the damned future of this place. Not from us.”
Chloë looked back at Garth. She understood what he was saying now. He wanted Kesha because she was a part of the future of Bardsey Island. If he was one of the people talking about taking Bardsey Island for himself, then that’s why he wanted Kesha—wanted all the children.
He wanted control. He couldn’t have Chloë taking Kesha away.
“And—and my dad? Margery?”
Garth shrugged. “Don’t mean a thing to me. You can leave. All of you.”
Chloë gulped. Nodded. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Don’t trust him, Chlo.”
Chloë heard her dad speak.
Garth turned, too. Looked right at him. “What’s that you just said?”
Dad stared into Chloë’s eyes. “Remember what Margery said. Remember what she told you.”
“I can’t,” Chloë said, knowing what her dad was referring to. Walking away. Running into that tunnel. Escaping the island with Kesha.
“Yo
u can, Chlo. You can because you have to.”
“Not without you. I can’t just—”
“Just do it, Chloë. Just do it.”
Chloë saw Garth turn back to her. He still had his gun in hand. Still had a smile on his face. “Your dad’s getting you into a whole shitload of trouble,” he said. “Trust your gut. Not him. From what I hear, it was you who brought him here in the first place, not the other way round, hmm?”
Chloë didn’t want to agree with Garth. But he was right. She trusted herself more than her dad. She wanted to just hand Kesha over. To end all this right here so the pair of them could get away. Because Dad was the only person Chloë needed. The only person she cared about.
“Sorry, Dad. I’m sorry.”
She took a step closer towards Garth. And then another. And a couple more until she was directly opposite him.
And then she heard Margery splutter.
She lifted her head. Looked up at Chloë. Peered through narrowed, bloodshot eyes.
And in those eyes, Chloë saw desperation. She saw the look of someone who wanted to be trusted; who wanted to be believed.
“P-please,” Margery spat. “Go. Take her. Go.”
Chloë felt a tear roll down her face. She felt the weight of Kesha on her arm. Looked down, saw that smile.
She looked back at Garth. Then at her dad. She looked at him right in his eyes.
She knew what she had to do now.
She backed away.
Backed away towards the door.
Garth’s smile dropped. He lifted his gun. Pointed it at Chloë. But Chloë could see it was wavering as she backtracked towards the exit. She could see he didn’t want to fire. Something was stopping him from firing.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” he said.
He pointed his gun into the first cot on the right.
Chloë kept on backing off. Holding her breath.
Garth fired.
Chloë almost tumbled as the smoke rose from the first cot. She thought she heard a wail—a new wail—and realised it was from Margery. She saw her dad throw himself at Garth, only for Garth to knock him to the floor, to send him packing.
And she wanted to go back. She wanted to go back and help so badly.
But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
Garth moved to the next cot. Fired another shot. And then another. And another until eventually, the only crying in the room came from Margery.
“You’re next, kid. If you don’t hand that baby over, I’ll fucking end you right here.”
Chloë pushed back against the door. As she did, she saw her dad lying on the floor, looking right at her. “Go,” he said. “Just—just go.”
Chloë looked into her dad’s eyes, and she knew this was it. His life was over. Everything was over.
“I can’t,” she said.
“Go!”
She looked at Garth as smoke rose from the gunshot cots. As blood trickled down between the sheets, onto the floor.
And then she looked at Margery. Looked into her desperate, barely open eyes.
“Go, Chloë,” Dad muttered. “Please. Save yourself. Go.”
Chloë didn’t want to run. She didn’t want to leave Dad behind.
But she held on tight to Kesha.
She pushed back through the door.
She ran.
As she sprinted for her life down the passageway towards the exit, Chloë heard another couple of gunshots rattle in the building.
She tried to stem the flow of tears from the knowledge that one of them had hit her dad.
TEN
Chloë clung on to Kesha as she sprinted out of the back door to the nursery.
She felt the cold air hit her the second she stepped out. She could see people running away in the corners of her eyes. Bodies lying on the ground. Blood. So much blood. The air was thick with the smell of gunfire and burning. There was a taste of death about the place. Gunfire was rattling back and forth between the High Lord’s palace and the people trying to get into it. A conflict. A war.
Chloë stood still for a moment. Completely still. She wanted to move, but her legs were locked. Kesha cried in her arm. She thought back to the chaos at Heathwaite’s caravan park last winter. The day her mum died. The carnage and the recklessness of war. Not like the films and the TV shows made it look. There was no order to it.
Just chaos.
That’s what this was like right now.
She swallowed a lump in her throat. Her heart raced. She couldn’t remember feeling this scared in a long time. She wondered if maybe it was all a dream. If it was another one of her nightmares. One she was struggling desperately to wake up from.
But no. There was always something different about the nightmares. Something that stood out about them; that made them different from reality.
This was no dream. And it was much more terrifying than any nightmare.
She turned around. Looked back at the nursery. She tried not to think about the shots she’d heard. What they meant. Margery. Her dad. She heard what Garth said. He’d kill everyone in that room if she didn’t give Kesha back.
She didn’t want to accept it. Didn’t want to believe he would do a thing like that.
But why wouldn’t he?
When had hoping for the best ever worked before?
She wanted to go back inside that building. Back to the life she’d had. No, not just to the life she’d had. But back to her dad. She wanted him. She needed him. He was the only person she truly cared for. The only person she…
She heard footsteps.
Saw movement edging closer to the back door of the nursery.
She knew she was out of hope, out of luck.
She turned back around and ran ahead. Ran past the tents. Kept on running as the sound of gunshots and screams whistled around her. She tried to think back to what Margery said about the cabin. The old cabin where the tunnel was. A tunnel off the island. A tunnel she wanted Chloë to use to get away from this place, Kesha in her arm.
She ran in the direction of the cabin. If she remembered correctly, the cabin used to always be locked up. No way of getting inside. So how was she supposed to? How was she expected to save Kesha when she couldn’t even save herself?
She heard the back door to the nursery swing open. Heard someone—probably Garth—shout out at her. She didn’t want to look back. Didn’t want to see how close he was to her.
She just wanted to keep on going.
She saw the cabin up ahead. Held onto Kesha even harder. She skipped between a few of the tents, keeping herself low to try and escape Garth’s vision. She worked her way around to the front of the cabin. Stopped right by it. Tried to grab the handle and open it while Kesha was still in her arm.
She couldn’t. She had to put Kesha down.
She didn’t want to. But she had to.
She lowered Kesha down to the muddy ground. Heard the footsteps getting nearer to the cabin. She reached for the handle. Turned it.
It didn’t budge.
Her body sunk. She tried the door again. It had to open. One way or another, it just had to open.
But no matter how much she turned that handle, the door just wouldn’t budge. No matter how much she wanted to get into this cabin, into that tunnel, she couldn’t find a way.
She heard Garth’s footsteps around to the left of the cabin. Crouched down. Grabbed Kesha and stepped around the left of it. It was only a small cabin, so any noise and he’d know exactly where she was.
She crept around the side of the cabin. Rain lashed down now, making mud form at her feet. She didn’t want to slip. Didn’t want to tumble into the dirt. She didn’t want Kesha to make a noise. He’d kill her. She saw that clearly now. He’d kill her and he’d—
Chloë felt the weight of Kesha’s body shifting on her arm.
The next thing that happened didn’t even seem real.
Kesha fell. Fell out of Chloë’s arm. Fell towards the ground below.
Chloë wa
tched her fall. It happened in slow motion.
Kesha was falling.
She’d dropped Kesha.
She threw herself down. Didn’t care about the noise she made, not anymore.
She managed to soften Kesha’s fall. The weight of her body fell onto her arm.
She clenched her teeth together. She knew Garth would be onto her soon. She knew he’d be around here to put a bullet in her head. He’d just killed those babies back at the nursery, so Chloë had no doubts over whether he’d hesitate to kill her or not, not anymore.
And then he’d take Kesha and he’d… well. She didn’t know.
She just knew that for some reason, Margery wanted Kesha protecting.
For some reason, Kesha was different.
Chloë was about to crawl away when she saw the small gap underneath the cabin.
She pushed Kesha towards it. Pushed Kesha into the darkness. Footsteps got closer. Garth’s shadow appeared around the corner.
And then Chloë squeezed under it herself. Forced herself into the darkness of the cabin. Heart racing. Chest tightening.
She was so close to getting into the cabin when she felt her shoe stick by the door.
She pulled. Tried everything she could to pull it in. But it was caught. The lace was tangled up around the wood.
She reached towards it. Untied it. Garth so close to turning the corner.
And then she pulled her foot out of it.
Fell back.
Left the shoe out there.
She saw Garth step around the corner of the cabin. Saw him stand still. Look towards the shoe.
She held her breath as he walked up to it. Lifted it. He didn’t do anything for a moment. And then he threw it back into the mud, this time far out of Chloë’s reach.
Chloë waited until he’d walked off. Waited, completely still.
And then she turned around and looked at the hatch.
It was small. Just a metal handle and a narrow doorway. She went over to it. Dragged it open. And then she looked down the ladder. Stared into the darkness.
She looked back at the gap that led out onto the island. She wanted to go back. She wanted to know her dad was okay. She wanted to be back with him, just the two of them, together on this island that’d been so good for so long.
