The Renegade

by Amy Dunne

  Alex laughed. She had to admit, she’d been convinced he wouldn’t go through with it. He’d won the battle, but she felt confident that she’d win the war. Only time would tell if Murphy’s sweet tooth would remain. She doubted it.

  *

  Alex woke with a crick in her neck. She’d dozed off in the camp chair. She was comfortable, so she didn’t move, other than to lift her head a little. The fire burned brightly, popping and crackling as she watched the smoke swirl upward in a hypnotic dance.

  Paddy was sprawled between her chair and the fire. His four toys and three chewed sticks were scattered around where she sat, as if they were gifts. She watched as his oversized paws and ears twitched as he dreamed. There was no denying he was a cutie. She’d noticed subtle physical changes: he was significantly larger than when they’d met, his fur looked healthier, longer, and lighter, and his markings were more prominent every day. A distinct dark diamond shape showed on his forehead. Some things remained the same, however—floppy ears, chocolate brown eyes, huge paws, an unwavering appetite, and his inquisitive personality. He remained fiercely loyal and loving. He was a funny little thing and never failed to make her laugh. Her heart swelled in her chest; she loved him. He lessened the grief and made her glad she was alive.

  A sniffling sound drew her attention to the right. Murphy sat in his camp chair oblivious to the fact she was awake. He was holding a photo, but Alex could only see the white of its back. He sniffed again and rubbed his eyes.

  She felt like she was intruding. Murphy was clearly upset, and she felt bad for spying on him.

  He picked up the can of beer from beside his chair and took a swig. Shaking his head softly, he lowered the can back to the ground. Sensing he was being watched, he snapped his head in her direction, and his eyebrows arched. In a throaty voice he said, “You’re awake?”

  Alex nodded and bit down on her lip.

  “That’s good,” he said quietly. He rubbed his eyes and cheeks harshly before standing. His cheeks were pink with embarrassment, his eyes puffy, his nose red. “It’s time for your tablets.” His voice cracked with emotion. “I’ll go and fetch them.” As he walked toward her, he went to shove the photo in his fleece pocket.

  Alex reached out to stop him. “Can I have a look?” she asked.

  He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple dipping and diving. His green eyes darted around, refusing to look directly at her. “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Please.”

  His shoulders sagged and he blew out a shaky breath. Slowly, he removed the photo and offered it to her. She took it carefully and held it with light fingertips, not wanting to risk damaging it in any way. Her eyes took in the image, and an icy sadness crushed her heart.

  The family photo was in colour: eight people huddled together with big smiles. Her gaze finally spotted Murphy. It’d been taken a while ago because of how drastically his appearance had changed. In the photo he was cleanly shaven and his hair was neatly styled. He stood grinning mischievously with one arm draped playfully over the shoulders of a short older woman. The woman was laughing and Alex could see the family resemblance. In fact, everyone on the photo shared similar physical attributes.

  “That’s my mum,” Murphy said. He pointed to the woman he was next to. “That’s my dad, my older brothers John and Colin. Bridget and Maria are my older sisters and the young baby is Katie, Bridget’s daughter.”

  They were a tall family with the exception of Murphy’s mum and baby Katie. All of them had raven hair except for their dad, whose hair was grey. Everyone had freckles, and the pointed noses all looked familiar. Maria was exceptionally tanned, unlike the rest of the family, who were pale. The sun shone down on them as they posed in front of an old wooden farm gate. Behind them was a stunning backdrop of lush green fields that led to impressive steep hillsides. Sheep dotted the fields. Grey and white stone walls marked the lay of the land.

  Alex struggled to swallow. She passed the photo back. “You’ve got a beautiful family.”

  Murphy cradled the photo in his palms, his eyes brimming with tears. He stumbled back to his chair, drunk with grief.

  “When was it taken?” she asked.

  “Two years ago. It was my dad’s sixtieth birthday, so we all went home to celebrate.”

  “Will you tell me about them?” she asked, compelled to get to know the strangers on the photo and, against her better judgment, Murphy, too.

  “I’m the youngest. Maria’s the eldest. She lives in Australia. John and Colin both live in New Zealand, but at opposite ends of the country. Bridget is the only one who still lives in Ireland, but she, Katie, and her husband Daniel live in Dublin. Mum and Dad still live on the farm, but they were forced to downsize years ago. Mum’s a teacher at the local school and my dad still does what he can on the farm.” Murphy’s voice was husky with pain but he continued. “I went to university in York, and afterward, decided to stay over here with my girlfriend. We split up a couple of months later, but by then I had a decent IT job, a permanent position on a five-a-side football team, and great friends. Recently, things have been going downhill in Ireland. With the recession, there were no jobs to be had. In order to survive, my brothers and Maria got work abroad. It broke my mum’s heart when we all left. This,” he raised the photo, “was the last time we saw each other. I kept meaning to go back but things kept cropping up and I never made it. When things really started to go to shit, I spoke to my mum and she asked me to come home. I said I would, but I kept putting it off. The last time I spoke to her she was in a terrible state. Daniel had…died. Bridget was trying to head home to the farm with Katie. Mum hadn’t been able to contact my brothers or Maria. And then she told me Dad was sick. She begged me to come home and I promised her I would. My friends were dying and I got wrapped up in digging graves and I put it off for two days. And then it was too late. All flights in and out of the UK were grounded. I travelled by motorbike to the ferry port in Holyhead, but all ferries were cancelled and the army wouldn’t let me get near.

  “I asked in a local fishing village if someone could take me over on a boat. I tried to bribe them with everything I had, but no one would. They themselves or their families were sick and dying, so money didn’t appeal. I don’t blame them. Then the anarchy started. The army were patrolling and reportedly shooting on sight. When I finally got back home, the phones, Internet, and electricity were all down. I couldn’t even let her know I’d failed.”

  Alex didn’t know what to say. Murphy was sobbing, tears streamed down his cheeks, and she didn’t know how to ease his suffering. “I don’t know if any of them are alive,” he said. His shoulders hunched as sobs shook his body. “She needed me and I failed her. I broke my promise because I’m a coward.”

  Paddy rushed over to Murphy, his tail tucked. He stood on his hind legs and licked Murphy’s hand.

  “I’m sorry,” Alex said. She meant it. It’d almost killed her to watch her family get sick and die, but at least she’d been with them and been able to put them to rest. Not being with his family and not knowing their fate was far crueller than what she’d experienced. His guilt only added to his torment.

  Murphy gently fussed Paddy while crying.

  “My name’s Alex.”

  Murphy looked up, shocked. He sniffed, wiped his face, and gave a weak smile. “Alex, eh? It suits you.”

  “Thanks. Can I get you another beer?” she asked, her cheeks blushed with embarrassment at the pathetic offer.

  “Yeah, thanks. They’re in my tent to the left.”

  She knew where they were but nodded politely. She fetched two cans of beer and handed one to him. “Am I okay to have one?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said as he pulled the ring on his can and took a drink. He looked up at her thoughtfully. “How old are you?”

  Alex scowled. “Seriously?”

  Murphy shrugged. “You might be underage. Do you have any ID?”

  “No, I don’t,” she said. “Weirdly, I didn
’t think to bring my ID with me in a postapocalyptic world.”

  “So, how old are you?” Murphy asked before taking another mouthful of beer.

  “I’m twenty-six,” she said. She watched bemused as Murphy coughed and spluttered.

  “Jesus. You look sixteen at best.” He wiped his mouth and nodded. “Go ahead.”

  Alex carried the beer over to her seat. With her finger poised to pull the ring she hesitated. “Will this interfere with the antibiotics?”

  Murphy shook his head. “One beer should be okay, but it might affect you more than it normally would.”

  She pulled the ring; a satisfying hiss erupted into a light cloud of spray covering her hand, followed immediately by the sweet yeasty smell of beer. She sipped from the can, savouring the taste of the warm fizzy liquid. It was awesome.

  “Why do you dislike me so much?” Murphy asked. He was tickling Paddy, his gaze never left the furry belly. His eyes remained red and puffy but he’d stopped crying.

  “I don’t dislike you.”

  “I’d dread to see what you’re like to someone you hate then. Jeez.”

  Alex took another sip. She was starting to feel a little giddy. “I think you’re a nice guy. I shouldn’t have been so horrible to you. But my dad warned me to be careful, and for all I knew you were some sexually depraved pervert or axe murderer that was going to take me prisoner or kill me.”

  Murphy opened his mouth and then closed it again. His brow was creased in a frown. “So, you always see the good in people, then?” He shook his head. “I don’t own any weapons—”

  “You had a stick,” Alex said.

  “To help me climb and keep my footing. You’re the one with a bloody arsenal. Where the hell did you get those knives and guns from anyway? You nearly blew my head off.”

  “Don’t exaggerate,” she said. She sipped another mouthful of beer. “My dad gave them to me. He taught me how to use them and survive.”

  “How sweet of him,” Murphy said, shaking his head. “Is he a drug dealer or something?”

  Alex burst out laughing. “He was a marine and then worked for the government, but he didn’t talk too much about it. Before he died he warned me to be careful of survivors.”

  “I hate to say it, but you’re the only person I’ve met in months. We might be the only survivors left,” he said, letting the statement hang between them. “And for the record, I’ve never killed or murdered anyone. Ever. This isn’t some shoot-’em-up film or video game.” He poked the logs in the fire with a long stick, sending explosions of ash, flames, and smoke into the air. “Come on, be honest. How many people have you killed?” he asked good-naturedly.

  Alex froze. Her muscles went painfully rigid as ice crystallised the blood in her veins. Her breathing turned short and shallow, her heart pounded against her ribs, and sweat cooled on her clammy skin. An overwhelming stench of coppery blood assaulted her. The can slipped from her hand and she flinched when it hit the ground. She reached down to pick it up with trembling hands. She could still smell the blood.

  Murphy stared at her glassy-eyed. The colour drained from his face. Paddy trudged back to her and happily lapped some of the small puddle of spilled muddy beer.

  “How many?” Murphy asked in a whisper.

  “Two. I think the third survived, but he’ll not be eating solids again for a while,” she said. She needed to explain everything. The expression of absolute horror on Murphy’s face was bothering her more than she cared to admit. Reluctantly, she told him everything—puppy torture, implied sex slavery, and the murders. The words rushed out in a barrage and she couldn’t stop them—it was a relief to finally share the burden. “The next day I cut my hair really short. At the last town I chose some men’s clothes to wear. I figured if I look like a guy, I might have a better chance.”

  “You had me fooled. I thought you were a young lad,” Murphy said. He shook his head as if trying to dispel disbelief. “So that’s why you’re covered in all those bruises and scrapes. And why Paddy’s neck is in such a mess.” He held her gaze. “Sweet Jesus. No wonder you freaked out when you first saw me.”

  Alex nodded. “We’re not the only survivors. You need to understand that everything’s changed now. People are out for themselves and there’s no law or punishment anymore. If they want it, they’ll take it. And it’s especially shitty if you happen to be a woman.”

  Murphy massaged his temples. “I appreciate what you’re saying. I really do, but not every survivor is going to be a maniac. We need to find others and regroup. Then we need to make plans and—”

  “Seriously? Did you not just listen to a word I said? You need to be wary. And there is no we. As soon as I’m better, Paddy and I are going on our way, without you. You can go and find all the survivors you want. But I won’t be a part of it.”

  Murphy rubbed his face with his hands. “Let me level with you, okay? I don’t know how to survive by myself. Hell, it took me nearly a whole day just to work out how to put up the fecking tent. I eat the same canned food because I know it’s safe and I don’t want to risk poisoning myself. I have no survival instincts, Alex. During these weeks while I’ve been alone, I felt like I was losing my mind. The thought of being that lonely again, it scares the crap out of me. And honest to God, the truth is I’m shitting myself about winter. Without you I’ll die.”

  Alex stared at him. Halfway through his speech he’d started to cry again, and his voice continued to crackle hoarsely. He looked a sorry state.

  “Jesus, I know it’s a lot to ask, but please can we stick together? Just until after winter? By then I’ll have learnt how to survive. Please, Alex? I’m begging you.”

  Alex got to her feet and looked down at him. She opened her mouth but then closed it. What he was saying was true. Without her help, he would never survive winter because he just didn’t have a clue. And if it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be alive now. She owed him—even though it galled her to admit it. Perhaps it was her conscience, or she felt indebted to him, or maybe it was even her own intrinsic fear of being alone again, but whatever the reason, in those few seconds she made her decision. “Fine. We can stay together until after winter. Then you’re on your own.”

  Murphy wiped his face with his sleeve and smiled sheepishly. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver and I swear I’ll—”

  “But only on the condition you do exactly as I say.”

  Murphy nodded. “Your wish is my command.”

  Alex smiled. “Good. You can start by giving me back all of my weapons right this second.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Alex felt Paddy flinch against her as the final shot rang out against the serene woodland backdrop. She scratched behind his ear to reassure him.

  “I think I nearly had it that time,” Murphy said, his cheeks pink as he jogged over to them.

  Alex looked at the target range she’d created and held back a sigh. All three targets—the raggedy old shoe, plastic bottle, and rusted tin can—remained perched upright on the makeshift ledge. They hadn’t moved a millimetre. His shots hadn’t even gotten close enough to knock them off balance.

  “Yeah,” she said, feigning enthusiasm. Her dad had always told her, although it might be more difficult building someone’s confidence up rather than tearing it down, doing so would help them to master new skills in the long run. After a month of travelling with Murphy and practicing his shooting every couple of days, she was almost ready to accept defeat. He just wasn’t suited to using a gun or doing anything that involved weapons, self-defence, or a survivalist mindset and skills.

  “Should I have another go?” he asked, scratching his wiry beard.

  “It’s getting late. How about we leave it until tomorrow?” She couldn’t afford to give him many more practices, not that he particularly wanted to practice anyway. It was a waste of ammunition, and in the back of her mind she worried that a time might come, sooner rather than later, when she’d need every last bullet. Her paranoia had been building over
the course of the last four days. Nothing had happened to trigger it, and yet it niggled away.

  “Sure thing.” He handed the shotgun over and his shoulders instantly relaxed.

  She spotted something dart from the corner of her eye. In a swift natural movement, she aimed the shotgun and pulled the trigger. Murphy jumped so high he almost hit the branch above them. Gripping his chest with both hands, he hissed a sentence made up entirely of swear words.

  Alex smiled. Everything sounded nicer with the twang of an Irish accent, even bad language. She should’ve warned him. “Sorry,” she said, shouldering the shotgun. With Paddy at her heels she headed in the direction where she’d shot. The rabbit was large and she was relieved to see it had died instantly from a clean shot to the head. She set about preparing it using her hunting knife. Nearly finished, she heard the tread of Murphy’s footsteps approach from behind her.

  “Sweet, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. That’s disgusting. I can’t—”

  Without turning, she heard him stagger five steps away before his retching had its desired effect.

  “You really are chicken shit,” she said playfully. She wiped her bloodied hand and knife on the grass. “You grew up on a farm.”

  “Aye, but our meat came from a supermarket. That poor wee thing was happily living its life, hopping along, having a grand old time, then bam.”

  Alex stood, checked her belongings, and walked over to Murphy. “Well, unfortunately we don’t have the luxury of supermarkets anymore. Trust me, you’ll be all for Peter when he’s in a curry.”

  “Don’t name the poor little guy. Jeez. That makes it so much worse.” His complexion turned green. “Curry?” He uttered the word like it was the most disgusting culinary invention ever suggested.

  “You keep saying how much you miss curry. You’ve even got a jar of sauce with you.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “But nothing. It’s going to be delicious. Come on. We better head back before Peter goes off.”