by Amy Dunne
In the end, people took to hiding in their homes, only venturing out under extreme circumstances. Most people wanted to be in their homes with their loved ones when their time came. Alex’s mother and Dianne had not been an exception. Suicides, euthanasia, and mercy group killings became the norm. The acts themselves, which had once been viewed with disdain as morally wrong, suddenly seemed ethical, compassionate, dignified, and humane when compared to the fate of those infected with the Red Death.
Alex cautiously glanced at each house, watching for the slightest movement, but saw none. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. It was more than paranoia. A sixth sense set off alarm bells and made her skin prickle. Her hand hovered over the gun holster as she continued walking through the eerie silence. She kicked a rock just to make a sound. As she passed by a church, an involuntary shudder tore through her body. She sped up and finally came to what looked like the high street. Deserted cars littered the main road.
At the beginning of the outbreak, people had surged into the streets, desperately searching for something, anything, and perhaps nothing at all. Ransacking and looting had ruled for only a short while, with pharmacies and supermarkets being the worst hit. The madness stopped as quickly as it started, people perhaps fearing their judgment for the next life. Stealing no longer appealed. Or perhaps people realised they wouldn’t be taking anything material with them when their end came. The most likely reason, in Alex’s opinion, was that no one wanted to risk being near other people and becoming infected. It had been rumoured, early on, that those who ventured near others seemed to get sick more quickly. The speed of incubation increased. The symptoms could appear within mere hours rather than a couple of days. She didn’t know if it was true, not that it mattered now anyway.
Being extra cautious, Alex followed the pavement and came to the first of many boarded-up shop fronts. It was a coffee shop and so she continued walking. After passing a few more stores that were of no use to her, she came to a pet shop. She tried the door and wasn’t surprised to find it locked. Luckily, the store window was one of the few that wasn’t boarded up.
Scanning around on the floor, she couldn’t see anything that might be useful, so she carefully withdrew her gun, gripped the muzzle tightly, and turned her face away. The butt of the gun swung into the glass, and after two more attempts, the window shattered.
She looked around, checking to see if the sound of the glass had drawn anyone out into the open. No one appeared. Although a little uneasy about having broken in, she had no choice, and really, what did it matter? She climbed through the window, her boots crunching on the broken shards of glass.
She regretted not bringing a torch and had to wait for her eyes to adjust. Thankfully, the shelves were all well-stocked. She searched behind the service counter and found some bags. Opening one of the larger ones, she made her way along the shelves. As she wasn’t a hundred per cent sure of what stuff to choose and wasn’t feeling well enough to read each label, she quickly filled the bag with items: puppy food, flea powder, a collar, a lead, two bowls, and a variety of treats and toys. Before leaving, she spotted a collection of thin books on a shelf above the till. After scanning the different titles she finally found one titled Caring for My Very First Puppy and popped it into the bag. She left the store and spotted a Pharmacy sign a few stores down. As she got closer, she saw the boards and glass had already been dealt with. The bonnet of a red car remained partway through the shop front.
“Must be my lucky day,” she whispered.
Warily, she made her way through the destroyed store front, trying not to fall over the unstable rumble. Once inside she allowed herself a few moments to catch her breath and get her bearings. She left the puppy supplies by the window and went in search of medical supplies.
Unlike the pet shop, the pharmacy shelves were mostly bare, with some contents trampled onto the floor. After rooting on the shelves and on the floor, she only managed to find clean bandages, tape, antibacterial gel, and more painkillers. All of the locked cabinets at the back were open, the antibiotics and useful medicines long gone. Disappointed and increasingly unwell, she left the pharmacy in search of her final items: new clothes.
In her previous life, she’d hated clothes shopping. Like today, it was a necessary evil. She came across a clothing shop that also had its front window destroyed. Once inside, she placed her bag down again and started skimming along the rails in the men’s section.
While choosing T-shirts, jumpers, and trousers she was surprised to realise she was actually enjoying herself. Perhaps the new masculine version of herself enjoyed shopping. “No queues, irritating shop assistants, or other shoppers definitely makes it more enjoyable,” she said, shoving the clothes into another large bag. She struggled but eventually managed to pick up both bags and start toward the street. “Free clothes is the only perk of being alive when everyone else is dead.”
She left the high street and headed back in the direction she’d come. She kept stopping to put the bags down so she could catch her breath. Her hand throbbed and her body shivered, even though she was sweating profusely. Stopping for the eighth time on a residential street, she spotted something unusual. For a moment she struggled to recognize what it was, but when it dawned on her, she actually laughed out loud. The garden trolley was covered by the leaves of an overgrown shrub. If she hadn’t stopped exactly there, she would’ve walked past it without ever seeing it.
Four sturdy looking black wheels were attached to the bottom of a red plastic container. A long metal pole stuck out from the front with a handle at the top. It was exactly what she needed.
She emptied the dried debris, pulled it over to the road, and loaded it with her bags. Paddy would easily fit inside. Her spirits lifted. She pulled the trolley and set off to show Paddy his new mode of transport.
Chapter Eight
As soon as she was reunited with Paddy and a safe distance away from town, she relaxed. The closer she got to the grassy hills, trees, and lush overgrowth of the countryside, the safer she felt. Houses, towns, and villages were dangerous, full of disease and death. Mother Nature’s woodlands, countryside, and wild gardens were now her home. They were full of vibrant life and beauty. Sounds of wildlife filled the once-lonely silence, and the scents of flowers, grass, trees, and even rain cleansed the stench of death and decay.
She pulled the trolley uphill while Paddy happily dozed inside it. Once they reached a wooded area she chose the perfect spot to set up camp. Daylight started to fade, so she lit a small fire and made herself a mug of chicken soup with boiled water and a powdered sachet. Paddy seemed happy with his new food and bowls.
She still felt feverish, but additional painkillers and the pleasure she got from watching Paddy play with a soft blue ball made her feel better. He chased the ball, batted it, chewed it, and quickly wore himself out. Deciding an early night was a necessity, she brushed her teeth in a small clearing. Her gaze immediately homed in on a spot in the distance. She did a double take and nearly choked on a wad of foamy toothpaste. Spluttering, she spat the menthol contents onto the ground and raced back to camp.
Paddy lay by the fire and merely blinked as she rushed past him to grab her shotgun. The black smoke was still clear against the light backdrop of the evening sky. Alex focused her scope on the area beneath the smoke trail. After a few seconds of altering the sight, she came upon the figure of a man. He was a good distance away, but she could make out he was wearing jeans and a black top, and had dark hair. The rest of his features were blurry.
Her heart felt fit to burst in her chest. She searched the area around the man but couldn’t see anyone else. A tent was pitched and clothes were drying near the fire. Blotting her trembling hands on her trousers she watched as the man stretched, turned, and looked in her direction. “Shit,” she said, ducking. When she turned to look behind her she saw her own thin smoke trail travelling up to the sky like a big welcoming signpost. She rushed back to camp and kicked dirt over th
e fire to put it out, much to Paddy’s annoyance.
“You’ve got a fur coat. You’ll be fine.”
She was shaking so badly, she had to sit. Her head pounded as fiercely as her heart. She tried to calm herself and be rational. She’d always known that eventually she’d come across other survivors. Granted, she hadn’t expected it to be so soon, but there wasn’t much she could do about it now. The important thing was that he seemed to be alone, was a good few hours away, and definitely wasn’t Dave.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said quietly, through shaky breaths.
Now that she was aware of him, she could keep him under surveillance and ensure a safe distance between them. They would never meet—she’d make sure of it. And from now on she’d be extra careful. No fires, no trails, no obvious telltale signs. “We need to be careful. That goes for you, too,” she whispered to Paddy. He walked over and she fussed him behind the ears. “No loud barking, okay?” He licked her hand.
She walked back to the clearing. Spreading a jumper on the floor, she lay on top of it. After five minutes, Paddy came and cuddled beside her. She watched the man and his camp until the sky grew too dark to make out anything useful. He’d spent the evening sitting by his fire reading a book. His black tent was set up away from the fire, and eventually it’d become camouflaged with the night. Exhausted, she led Paddy back to their camp and settled down for the night. They would leave early and cover a great distance before the man even woke.
*
The night was the worst yet. Her hand throbbed with a burning pain but she didn’t see the point of checking it in the dark. Her head continued to pound and the fever worsened—she wasn’t sure how much more she could stand. Paddy stayed close whining softly. The painkillers were now having little to no effect. She’d never felt this sick. It was serious. And the whole situation was ridiculous. Managing to survive the holocaust caused by the Red Death, only to die because of an infected cut on her hand.
Fear lanced her.
Eventually, she managed to fall asleep, but when she woke, it was immediately clear she’d overslept. The sky brimmed with dark clouds and rain pounded. She grabbed her scope and rushed back to the clearing, the rain drenching her. She searched, but couldn’t find anything. Her stomach lurched. His tent was gone. All signs of him were gone. He was on the move. She trudged back to camp and tried to formulate a plan. She needed to pack up and leave, but she wasn’t up to it. Just the short walk to the clearing had drained her energy and taken her breath. To make the situation worse, she now developed a cough.
She looked around her. The camp was well hidden in the midst of trees. Providing she didn’t light a fire and she and Paddy both remained quiet, the man could easily pass by them.
“We’re staying here for a few days, okay?” she asked Paddy, who cowered inside the porch of the tent. His behaviour made it clear he didn’t want to get his paws wet. Inside the main compartment, she stripped out of her sodden clothes and changed into her newly acquired clothes. She even tried wearing a pair of boxer shorts. They were a million times more comfortable. Dry and warm, she couldn’t put off checking the state of her hand any longer. The bandages were stained and no matter how bad the sight, she needed to try and treat the wound.
Gross. She grimaced. Her whole hand was swollen and inflamed to such an extent, she barely recognized it. A foul-smelling liquid seeped from the wound, which only added to her nausea. Doing her best with limited resources and only one hand, she tried to clean and redress the wound. She wanted to cry but didn’t have the strength. In the end, she took a few more painkillers and fed Paddy, unable to face eating anything herself. With nothing else to do, she lay down inside her sleeping bag and tried to sleep everything away.
*
She’d lost track of time. With her thick head and fever-ridden body, she struggled to wake up. She couldn’t be sure if it’d been minutes, hours, or days since she’d last been awake. She crawled out of the tent and was shocked to see the ground was dry. The sky was cloudy, and even with the sunlight masked, everything was too bright for her eyes to bear. Squinting, she used her good hand to shadow her eyes while she looked around for Paddy. There was no sign of him. She couldn’t search, so she’d have to wait for him to return.
Two days, if not more, had passed since she’d set up camp. In theory, the guy should be long gone. The chances of him finding their camp had to be miniscule, especially as they hadn’t lit a fire in that time. Tonight, once it grew dark enough, she would light a small fire and force herself to eat something warm and substantial. In the meantime, she had two tasks that took priority. The first was to go empty her bladder, and the second was to find some kindling and branches. She would’ve completed both tasks in a few minutes usually. Today, it took nearly an hour. Each laboured step took mammoth effort. Sweat poured from her, her skin prickled, and her teeth rattled in her skull.
When she finally did return to camp she was dismayed to see Paddy nowhere to be found. He was only little and might have wandered too far away while chasing after a bee or a bird. What if he couldn’t find his way back? She’d give it until sunset, and if he still hadn’t returned, she’d light the fire and shout for him.
Judging by her discomfort, it was time for painkillers, so she went back into the tent in search of tablets and water. A newly acquired thick blue jumper caught her eye and she couldn’t resist putting it on. It was snug but did little to relieve the icy chills. “Now I know what a frozen meal feels like when it’s cooking in the microwave.”
A familiar sound from outside the tent made her forget about the painkillers. The pitter-patter of tiny little paws on the foliage outside filled her with relief. She rushed out of the tent and was nearly knocked over by Paddy. He pranced excitedly around her in tight circles, his tail swishing happily.
“Where did you go? Did you chase after a critter and lose your way back?” Alex asked, scratching his furry tummy with her good hand.
She was so enthralled with fussing Paddy she failed to notice they weren’t alone. The man quietly stepped out from behind a tree and walked into camp. In a deep voice laced with a strong Irish accent he said, “Actually, he led me here.”
Alex’s head snapped up frozen with shock. The man was taller than her by at least two feet. He looked a little thin, but the muscles she could see looked defined. His black hair and beard were both shaggy and unkempt, which made it difficult for her to estimate his age. He was dressed in a grubby green polo shirt, which was damp with perspiration. On his bottom half, he wore grey cargo shorts, one blue and one red sock, and a pair of muddy walking boots. A large rucksack was strapped to his back.
The parts of his body that weren’t covered up were tanned from the sun and speckled either with freckles or dirt. His eyes were green and she found his stare menacing. His right hand tightly gripped the top of a large stick and its length spanned from the ground to his hip.
Alex dived into her tent and landed next to her holster. In a swift fluid motion she used her good hand to pull out her handgun and rushed back outside. Trying to stand her ground and not collapse from the sudden wave of vertigo assaulting her, she raised the gun and aimed at his head. The guy stumbled backward, raising one hand to ward her off. He looked terrified.
“Whoa there, mate!” he said, dropping his stick. He surrendered, both hands out in front of him. “I’m sorry if I surprised you. I didn’t mean to. The dog wouldn’t leave me alone, so I ended up just following and he led me right here.”
Alex squinted, feeling as the salty sweat stung her eyes. Her vision blurred, and she struggled to keep the gun raised. She wouldn’t be able to remain standing much longer. The guy needed to leave.
Her legs buckled and she stumbled.
The guy started toward her. “Are you okay, you look—”
She raised the gun again and pulled the trigger. The recoil tore through her body and she fell to the ground in a heap.
The guy’s eyes bulged as he looked repeatedly from Alex
to the mangled tree bark only centimetres from his head. The bullet was lodged deep inside the wood and the splintered cavity surrounding it was mangled.
How’s that for a warning?
Alex forced herself to swallow and tried to assert her authority. In a voice that sounded both desperate and weak she said, “Go.”
The guy ran his fingers through his thick head of hair, as if checking whether his head still remained intact. He wet his bottom lip and said, “Please don’t kill me. I’ll go if that’s what you want.” He held out his hands in surrender again. “It’s just you’re the first person I’ve met in…I don’t even know how long. I thought I was the only survivor but then I saw the smoke from your fire and—”
“Leave!” Alex could feel her control over her body and faculties slipping away. She fought to just hold out a little longer. Forcing herself to kneel, she lifted the gun again, this time using both hands to hold the weight. She cocked the hammer and resigned herself. If the guy didn’t leave within the next five seconds she was going to fire again. She didn’t want to break her vow. But she was too vulnerable to fight him off. If he didn’t leave, she’d aim for his foot. Maybe a bullet wound would convince him she was serious.
As if sensing her intentions Paddy barked, followed by a low growl, from beside her.
The guy swallowed, seemed to hesitate, and then said, “Okay, I’ll go.”
Alex waited but he didn’t move. She tightened her finger on the trigger and started to apply more pressure. She took one final deep breath, braced herself for the explosion of sound and the painful physical recoil. She closed her eyes. Now or never.
The sound of fast-paced crunching footsteps was enough to make her unclench her eyes. Even through the blurriness of her vision she could make out that the guy was retreating. All sight and sound of him were gone, leaving Paddy and her alone.
