True Refuge

by Annabelle McInnes

  They had been wrong. So fucking wrong.

  The ferocity of the disease was nothing like any doctor had seen before, and many had assumed sinister government intervention. There was no cure, only a natural immunity that saved a few, and the scientists were all dead before they knew how to replicate that resistance or create a vaccine. Maybe the citizens from the country that started it all had survived, but Euan would never know. It would not be in his lifetime that contact would be made.

  That night, his nightmare was vividly traumatic. Images of Nick’s decomposing body being rolled into a mass, unmarked grave, the young man’s muscles, tendons and sinew falling from his bones. Flashes of his mother, writhing in agonising pain as the seeping boils burst bloody pus onto an unwashed hospital floor. Her fingers turning black as her body rejected its own muscle and bone. Her eyes weeping crimson tears while she laboured to take her last breaths.

  Euan awoke with a start and an achingly dry mouth. Beside him, Nick was mumbling incoherently in his sleep. His body was slick with sweat, his muscles convulsing involuntary with sporadic twitches. Euan freed his hand from the bedding and ran his fingers over Nick’s brow to find it damp and heavily creased. When he crooned soft words of comfort, his lips brushing the whorls and indentations of Nick’s ear, his murmurings eased him and his muscles relaxed against Euan’s body.

  He wrapped his thick-set arms around the younger man and held him securely against his chest, his heart slowly resuming its normal cadence at the realisation that Nick was whole, alive and clasped tightly in his embrace. As Nick’s breath eased back into the deep rhythmic draw and release of sleep, Euan found himself unable to follow him into unconsciousness. He was still haunted by his nightmare, his head swimming with images of the past. The only thoughts that brought him peace were visions of all the ways he was going to enact revenge on those who had hurt someone so precious to him.

  As the sun’s light crested over the horizon, Euan quietly left their small tent while Nick slept on, wrapped in the shared sleeping bag. But when the time came to leave, he found that, though his body burned for vengeance, leaving Nick was almost impossible.

  So he compromised with himself—he’d head back to the farmhouse, see what could be discovered, and make a decision there. The walk and the brisk morning air would clear his head, as respite had eluded him while he held a restless Nick in his arms.

  He placed the Glock with its solitary bullet in Nick’s keeping, laying out the weapon in his line of vision so when he woke he would have easy access to it. It made Euan vulnerable, but he’d take the scenario twice over to have Nick protected.

  The morning was cold, the warmer months beginning to wane and the crisp air a provocative reminder that winter was on its way. His arms empty, and with revenge burning like rocket fuel in his gut, it took Euan no time at all to reach the weatherboard farmhouse.

  It looked just as it had the previous morning—dilapidated, decaying and ominous, the bright sunshine not dispelling the feeling of dread that permeated the place.

  But unlike the previous day, Euan took more care in his approach. He methodically scoped out the surrounding area for footprints, evidence of a hasty retreat, maybe even blood from the wound Nick said he’d inflicted on one of his attackers.

  Euan did not pretend that he was an expert in tracking. The necessity of finding food had honed a few innate skills he’d discovered he possessed after civilisation’s crash. But he could have been almost blind and still found the trail the men had left behind.

  Deep booted prints in the mud showed a desperate escape out the back door of the house that Euan had ignored the day before when he’d found Nick.

  It was obvious they were weighed down, maybe carrying the salvageable items from both Lenny’s and Euan’s belongings. They moved quickly though, the size of their strides providing evidence that they’d run, at least in the beginning.

  As Euan followed the jumbled impressions, he began to notice that one of the three was lagging, blood visible in small, dried pools alongside slips in the grass and disturbed rocks where the victim had fallen and eventually crawled.

  The long strides of both Parker and Rodgers soon veered away, and it was not long before Euan came across what he was expecting.

  The body of Jim had been ravaged by wild dogs before the daylight had scared them from their meal. Man’s best friend had no scruples in a world with no affection or easy sustenance.

  If he hadn’t spent a considerable amount of time with the man and recognised the worn jeans and green flannel shirt, he would have been unable to identify the carcass.

  Euan didn’t approach. He didn’t need to. He’d seen enough dead bodies to know what it would do to his dreams if he gazed on the specifics. But he was not going to deny that the sight of the mangled corpse made the burn for vengeance in his belly a little less searing.

  He gazed out towards the horizon where the trail continued, but he didn’t question his motives when he turned back towards the cottage, leaving the body behind as he retraced the muddy boot prints to the back door.

  He quickly made his way to the room where he had found Nick. He ignored the evidence of the man’s distress and torture before searching it for any of their personal property that could be salvaged.

  Nothing was left untouched. Devastation and mayhem surrounded him.

  A glint of gold had him frowning, and after a flicking away the inner stuffing from their second sleeping bag, he unearthed Nick’s kinetic watch in the debris.

  Euan closed his eyes as the impact of his discovery washed through him. Nicky’s father’s watch. The man never took it off. Ever. Euan hadn’t even noticed its disappearance from Nick’s wrist the day before and was angry at himself because of it. This should have been the reason why he had come back, not to seek vengeance, as satisfying as that could be.

  It had been the catalyst that had brought them together. Nick had told Euan it reminded him of humanity’s ingenuity, that it was proof the human race could save itself. If, as a race, they could develop a mechanism that ran off the energy generated by his movement, it was testament that humans could pull themselves out of the pit of destruction they currently resided in.

  Euan didn’t believe him. He’d lost faith in most things in the first few months after the population had been decimated by the plague. But he’d let the young man have his idealistic dreams, unhindered by his cynicism, and had said nothing.

  He pocketed the watch and rubbed his palms on his jeans, scanning the room once more before he heaved a sigh and stood. It might lift Nick’s spirits to see the watch again. Maybe make him smile, something Euan hadn’t seen once since the attack. He felt empty without it.

  He scanned the interior. He didn’t consider the life of those who had lived here before the plague, or the choices they had made to make this decaying relic of the human race comfortable. His mind didn’t register the remnants of a life, a home, a dream around him. All he could think of was what he’d left back at their small camp.

  He had two options, a crossroad. He could pick up the trail of the two men who still lived, follow them, find them and have his vengeance. He knew he would catch up to them, even if they had a two-day head start. He could imagine their blood coating his hands, their pleas for mercy accosting his ears, the look in their eyes as they took their last breath with his large hands wrapped around their throats, his knife in their bellies.

  Part of that vision satisfied Euan’s thirst, but it didn’t appease his heart like he thought it would now that he was faced with the reality of leaving Nick behind once again to fulfill his desires.

  His second option was less dramatic—he could take Nicky far from here and find an isolated farm. Something with a renewable energy source, maybe some domesticated animals and a small vegetable garden.

  They could live out their days in quiet peace. Nick could heal and Euan could try and become domesticated. Miracles could happen.

  Three years had passed since the first signs of th
e plague, two since he’d found Nick. And like he’d told himself countless times before, there was nothing he could do about the destruction of mankind; he could only focus on the present, and keep his soul unburdened.

  Euan was failing at the latter, but the former included Nick. As his eyes wandered over the remnants of a life that was now lost with the billions of souls that had perished, he knew what he had to do.

  Letting his focus move to the picturesque treeless rolling hills through the broken window panes, he sighed and allowed the anger to roll through him. He took another breath as he forced his muscles to loosen and the heat in his blood to simmer. His priority was Nick. He’d lost focus on that goal for a moment with almost disastrous consequences. He’d promised himself it wouldn’t happen again and, although filled with the urge to have Nick’s pain avenged, he needed to stick to that goal. Had to.

  It was with that thought that Euan turned and left the dilapidated building, his boots reverberating loudly on the floor as he walked back out into the warm morning sunshine.

  The world may have ended. They may have an enormous emotional battle to win, the desire for revenge might still be gnawing at him, but with each step back towards the camp, he knew he was heading in the right direction.

  Chapter 5

  When Euan spied the olive-green canvas tent nestled in the lush grass in the small ravine, the constricting snake that had wrapped itself around his heart eased its stranglehold. He took a deep breath, let the warm, mid-morning air fill his lungs and settle the inner turmoil that fermented inside his stomach. He’d made the right decision, but now he had to manage the aftermath of the destruction he had caused by not looking after Nick properly in the first place.

  As he drew closer, he found Nick hunched over the fire pit that was now nothing more than a pile of warm ash. The man’s shoulders trembled, his body vibrating from the outpouring of emotion that had spilled over silently while Euan had been absent.

  Euan’s heart disintegrated. Just like the ash in the remnants of the fire pit, the searing flame of guilt had drawn the essence from his chest and left nothing but a husk.

  What had he done? What could he do?

  ‘Nicky?’ he questioned tentatively.

  Nick jumped to his feet and scrambled to aggressively swipe the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. The clothes he’d borrowed from Euan hung loosely on his frame, and even though he stretched up to his full height, the limp fabric made him appear fragile, vulnerable, in desperate need to be held, something he knew he would never allow while awake.

  ‘What are you doing back here?’ Nick replied angrily. His eyes were red-rimmed and his blonde waves were a tangled mess, evidence of his troubled sleep.

  When he could no longer hold Euan’s stare, he moved stiffly from the fire pit to the rocky shoreline, seemingly keen to put distance between them.

  ‘I came back for you,’ Euan stated carefully, his brow creasing in slowly growing trepidation at the unpredictability of Nick’s mood.

  Nick snorted in reply and crossed his arms over his chest in indignation.

  Euan studied the broad shoulders before him. Nick might not have been as burly as him—far from it, in fact—but he was still a tall, capable man at the prime of his life at twenty-six. Most of the visible markings he’d sustained were hidden from Euan’s eyes due to the baggy clothing, but he could still see the defined triceps, pulled tight from the position of his folded arms. The strong, corded throat, his posture rigid and immovable. As he examined the familiar tanned skin and tousled curls, Euan realised he didn’t recognise this man, the one with an explosive temper, who scorned his attempts to help, and who remained stubbornly silent.

  His Nick faced adversity; he found positives in everything, including the end of mankind. It was Nick who constantly reminded him that life was worth living. Fuck, it had been Nick who had first kissed him, and even after Euan had answered that impertinence with a fist to his face. It had been Nick who taught him that love didn’t need to come from someone with a pussy. Christ, it had been Nick who showed him there was life beyond the end.

  ‘I found your watch,’ Euan murmured as he dug inside his pocket and pulled out the gold timepiece.

  Nick didn’t turn to face him, but his shoulders slumped at Euan’s words. ‘I can’t ... You keep it,’ he replied dejectedly.

  Euan ran his thumb across the glass face, his heart beating a determined tattoo against his chest. ‘How about you just put it in your pocket. No rush to wear it again, yeah?’

  ‘Euan, I don’t want—’

  While Nick spoke, Euan moved towards him. When he was close, he bent until his lips could brush the sensitive skin at Nick’s shoulder, exposed by the loose neckline of the oversized shirt. But Euan’s mouth didn’t make contact. He held himself still, breathing in Nick’s masculine scent, trying not to notice the involuntary quiver that rippled through the man’s muscles. Euan wrapped his arm around him and opened his fist at Nick’s chest to expose the watch that lay in his palm.

  ‘Take it,’ he whispered close to Nick’s ear.

  Nick’s breath hitched. ‘I can’t.’

  Euan did let his lips brush Nick’s skin then. It was warm, full of life, promise and hope. ‘Take it, please.’

  He didn’t comment or stop the gentle brushes of his mouth over Nick’s shoulder as he emitted a choked sob and reverently removed the watch to affix it to his wrist.

  Euan stood for a moment longer to let Nick compose himself before he spoke again, resolve in his mission growing like a spring sapling inside his soul. ‘Come on. Let’s pack and get going.’

  Even though the sounds of the rushing water were his only reply, Euan let the spark of hope build in his chest.

  ***

  ‘I’ll go in first. You wait out here. It seems deserted, but I don’t want to take any chances—’

  ‘Fuck you. You wait out here, I’ll go in first.’

  ‘Christ, Nick—’

  Before Euan could utter another word, Nick shoved him back from the entrance of the decrepit farmhouse and forced the already ajar door inwards with an explosive bang. Euan flinched from the dangerous sound and turned wary eyes to the overrun garden that surrounded them. Yellow wildflowers swayed in the mid-afternoon breeze, embedded in an overgrown lawn. An abundance of weeds poked through the paved footpaths and the rusted gate hung listlessly on its hinges. The once cared-for home was just another example of the hundreds of abandoned houses that sided the highway, its disrepair testament to the power of nature and fragility of mankind.

  Euan returned his gaze to the open doorway just as Nick was swallowed by a cloud of dust, his boots reverberating loudly on the weather-stained floorboards.

  ‘Fucking hell,’ Euan muttered as he entered the musty foyer, his approach far more careful than that of his comrade.

  He coughed as the powder of decay hit his lungs. When his eyes adjusted to the dim interior, he realised they shouldn’t have bothered with the risk of raiding the place.

  Like all the others they’d come across recently as they travelled west, the house had already been picked clean.

  Soft furnishings were ripped and torn, floorboards were upheaved, wooden cabinetry was either dismantled or destroyed, their contents smashed upon the floor like the sharp innards of deceased animals.

  Euan only gave the destruction a cursory glance before he followed the boot prints in the dust down a dark hallway. He found Nick in the main bedroom, where the skeletal remains of the home’s inhabitants were lying, long decayed, in a bed that had been surprisingly untouched amid the chaos.

  Nick’s vision was focused on the scene outside the cracked window. His stance was rigid and his fists clenched tight.

  ‘Nicky?’ Euan asked cautiously as he walked into the silent room.

  ‘I think we should go our separate ways,’ Nick murmured, not looking at Euan as he approached.

  Euan said nothing, his body frozen in place. He watched the rapid rise and fall of
Nick’s chest as the young man struggled with his internal torments. They were beasts Euan had no way of defeating. He’d been an amateur heavyweight boxer before the end. He knew how to fight, how to knock his opponents out cold. But in the face of Nick’s suffering, his training and abilities were useless. He was useless.

  ‘I’ll head west,’ Nick continued despite the lack of Euan’s answer. ‘You can go back east.’

  Euan’s heart thrummed. ‘Not going back east.’

  Nick shrugged. ‘Fine. You go south.’

  ‘Not going south either,’ Euan returned carefully.

  Nick’s jaw was like granite. His fists were trembling and his cheeks were flushed with anger. ‘You can’t go west. I’m heading west,’ he said, his teeth gritted.

  Euan swallowed. ‘Nick, look at me.’

  Nick turned, but it wasn’t to follow Euan’s request. He focused on the two bodies on the bed. He gradually reached out to touch the blackened bones but pulled back at the last moment, making fists with his hands until his knuckles were white.

  ‘Sometimes I wonder,’ he whispered ominously. ‘Were they the smart ones? Taking their lives before they had to face the reality of what humanity would become?’

  Euan’s gut began to churn. ‘Nick—’ he tried to interject.

  Nick ignored him. ‘Or were they just cowards?’

  Euan’s second attempt was accompanied with a tentative step forward. ‘Nicky—’

  ‘They were fucking lucky,’ Nick continued, his eyes glassy. ‘So lucky.’

  Despite the mayhem of the room, a single picture of two children playing happily in a sandpit was lying in a frame between the two mummified bodies. It had been placed there after most of the decomposition had occurred, as it was untarnished. Nick reached out and plucked it from its resting place to study it, two glistening tears dribbling down his cheeks as he did so.