Dawn and her son, Eric, came over to join in with the conversation.
“You guys, I’m guessing, have another case of differing-nationalities as well?” Elliot referred to Dawn’s German accent, and Eric’s British one.
“That’s right,” Eric answered.
“My family moved to Southern England when I was eighteen.” She paused, noticing Elliot’s face drop at the mention of ‘Southern England’ – After all, he had not heard of his home for a very long time now.
Dawn continued regardless, “It was all just for me, so that I would get to study at a ‘proper’ university. That’s not to say there’s anything wrong with Germany, it just… Wasn’t right, for me.” She became stuck in thought.
“Um, mum?” Eric nudged her, “You were telling Elliot your story? Then you started daydreaming again?” He treated her as though she had memory loss.
“Oh, yes! Of course. To answer your question, um…” Dawn squinted at Elliot, waiting for him to answer with his name – Which he bluntly did so.
“To answer your question, Elliot,” she rephrased, “Yes, we are of different nationalities as well. Just like our dear Scott and Maria here.”
Elliot, in another rare instance, smiled at Dawn. “This is lovely. It’s really nice to have a small talk conversation with civilised people – Even after everything that’s happened to the world. I really like this place, I really like the people. Honestly, you’re all wonderful.” He said, again with a rare smile. As they looked between each other, their faces lightened up as well, “As are you, Elliot.” Dawn was the one who told him this…
…Though in Elliot’s mind, that phrase could never be true. He knew damn well he wasn’t a good man, yet his ears still rang at the sound of such a compliment. Against his better judgement, he allowed it to go to his head.
Chapter 22: School’s Out… Forever
Brett walked slowly through the school common room. His eyes were bloodshot and watery, with tears down his cheeks. He was jittery all over his body.
Looking around, all he could see were the corpses of students and teachers alike. The ‘outbreak’ had claimed its’ first victims.
Brett was intelligent. He knew straightaway this was the end of the world, and that the apocalypse was beginning.
“Brody!” He noticed the corpse of one of his friends, and dropped down next to it, “Brody…” He solemnly and tearfully spoke to his late friend. Blood had dried out all around his mouth, he was stretching out across three seats.
“Is anyone out there?!” Brett shouted out, “Hello?” He added. But all that returned back to him was his own voice, as it echoed down the hallway…
“That sounds awful, I’m sorry,” Zach offered his condolences whilst Brett told him his story of his first encounter with the apocalypse.
“As wrong as this sounds… I’m glad it happened.” Brett said, feeling sinful. “Because, without that sight, I never would’ve been prepared for everything which followed. Over the years, I’ve seen so much gross shit. So much blood, so much death, so much grief and heartbreak. But times like this, and these things; you just learn to go along with them. The world’s changed, and so must we. Forget modernism. Focus on acceptance. That’s a lesson I want you to remember, Zach. I could die any second now, as could you. The whole stinking world could, truly, end, even. So if my words are all I leave behind, then at least I now have someone who’s heard them.” Brett smiled at Zach, and lightly punched his shoulder, in a friendly and informal manner. Zach smiled back, and did the same.
Later that day, Zach and Brett had decided to go out scavenging for resources.
“Been a long time since I’ve done this,” Brett remarked. “I used to have a friend, his name was Taylor, we did this… But then one day, I woke up, and he was gone. Just like that, he’d walked away from me.” He was saddened.
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Zach emphasized, though in his reference he was on the other side of that scenario.
“He told me stories about Prague…. It’s just a survivor’s tale. You hear it from people who come and go, everyone talks about Prague being this safe haven, but if you ask me Zach, no such place exists. Even if Taylor made it there, I doubt he found what he was searching for.”
But Zach saw Taylor’s desertion of Brett in a different light, “What if the reason why he didn’t make it back, is because he actually did make it to Prague? And there actually was a safe zone?”
Brett laughed, “What if he died trying to get Prague? What if he god damn died in Prague? It doesn’t matter, Zach. At least out here, one thing’s for certain: It’s desolate.” He pointed behind and in front of him, referencing the long and empty stretch of road. “No one and nothing can sneak up on us here.” He referenced the sides of the road, which were just rocky terrain, no trees in sight at all. There were mountains in the distance, but they only seemed to get farther away…
Gwen and Annabelle had been arguing for some time now. Zach and Erica were all fed up with it.
“Mum, do you seriously think we can just live in a god damn petrol station for the rest of our lives?” Annabelle forced a reality check upon Gwen.
“We’ve been here for two months already! And yet somehow, it’s been infinitely more peaceful than the time we spent at Camp Hackley… Explain that to me, Annabelle. If this place is really that bad, how come it’s done us so many favours?” Gwen defended herself.
“It hasn’t!” Annabelle shouted at her, “In these past two months, the only thing which this place has done for us is take Miguel’s life! If we were still in Hackley, at least he would still be alive…”
Gwen snapped, and with a broken expression on her face, she slapped her daughter.
“Gwen! Leave her alone!” Erica stood between the mother and daughter, as Zach followed her example.
“She is your daughter for crying out loud! Enough is enough, isn’t it?” Erica suggested.
“You’re right, Erica…” Gwen misleadingly ‘agreed’ with her.
As Erica lowered her guard, Gwen explained what she was really trying to say, “She’s my daughter, which means I’ll slap her as hard and as many times as I like!” She grabbed Erica and threw her out of the way. As she motioned to slap Annabelle a second time, Zach jumped in the way, causing Gwen to slap him instead.
“You bitch!” Erica tackled Gwen to the ground, seeing the slap completely the wrong way. “Don’t you ever touch him! Don’t you ever lay a finger on him!” She punched Gwen in the nose, causing it to spew blood.
“No, Erica! Leave her!” Zach tried to pull his maternal-like figure off of Gwen, as Annabelle rushed to his side to help. But Erica was surprisingly strong and unmoving, as she kept Gwen pinned to the ground.
Zach backed away, grabbing a cake tin from one of the shelves.
“I’m really sorry about this,” he mumbled to Erica, as he whacked her over the head with the cake tin twice. She wasn’t knocked out, but she was still disorientated.
“Thank you,” Annabelle nodded at him in appreciation; she still loved her mother despite the rift between them.
“So let me get this straight,” Brett was trying not to laugh at Zach’s story, “You hit your future stepmom over the head with a cake tin?”
Zach proudly nodded.
“Wow dude, you really are something else,” Brett smirked, as the two continued travelling up the empty road.
“So,” Brett was keen to hear more, especially about Annabelle’s disconnection with her mother, “What happened to the girl? You two sound like you were pretty close. How come you haven’t mentioned her since I rescued you? Or your stepmom? Or ‘Gwen’?”
Zach resumed his story, “Well…”
Late at night, the only noise outside was the alien-like gurgling of grasshoppers. Annabelle had begun her trek the entire way back to Camp Hackley. She couldn’t stand being with her mother anymore; At least back at Hackley, there was a chance she’d find someone she didn’t despise.
“Annabelle!�
�� Zach quietly called out to her. As he jogged to catch up with her, she rolled her eyes.
“Zach, why are you following me? The petrol station’s over a mile away from here. There’s no way you can go back on foot!” She ironically berated him.
“Come on Annabelle, it’s not that far in retrospect. Whereas you… I mean, where are you going, exactly? Not back to Hackley, right? There’s nothing there for you, or anyone, anymore.” It was as though he could read her mind.
“That’s exactly where I’m going,” she sternly told him.
Zach shook his head in disagreement, “Annabelle, no… No, you can’t be serious. I’ll tell Gwen! We… We’ll find you, you get that, right?” He refused to let her go.
“I always liked you Zach,” Annabelle sighed and confessed, as his ears pricked up to what she was saying.
“So, I’m really sorry about this,” she said in his accent, mimicking what he had said to Erica with the cake tin situation.
Producing her pistol, she whacked him over the temple with the butt of it, as he collapsed to the ground. Out of respect, she dragged him onto the side of the road, and wrapped her jumper over him. “It’s just over a mile,” she repeated her words to him…
“Well, that’s just cold,” Brett remarked.
“I know right! I thought she was gonna like… You know, kiss me, or something,” He had clearly let her prefixing words get to his head.
As Zach went to say something, he turned around, with the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up.
“Brett,” he nudged him with strength, as Brett winced, but turned around also.
There, in front of them, stood four robed figures, hoods pulled so far over, their faces were hidden. Their arms were out in front of them, joined by the long sleeves of their robes.
Brett laughed, feeling completely unafraid. Zach however, slowly edged back.
“Oh seriously, come on!” Brett laughed even harder, “What is this? Some cult bullshit?” He mocked the four figures in front of him. He took long strides closer to them, and ultimately ended up standing within breathing-distance of the figures.
“Whoa… Scary!” He continued to joke around. He turned back to face Zach, noticing how afraid he was. “Oh, come on, dude. Seriously, these guys are just dorks! Seriously, they –” Brett’s mockery was premature, as he winced loudly, with blood spewing out of his mouth. Looking down, there was a sword now sprouted through his heart. Looking down with a dismally sad frown, he looked back up at Zach.
Zach watched helplessly, with teary-eyes, as he continued to back away.
The sword was rapidly withdrawn from Brett’s heart, as he dropped to his knees. He clenched his bleeding heart, as he coughed extremely.
Another one of the hooded figures produced a machete from his robed sleeves. Finishing the job, he raised it above his head, and slashed it down on Brett’s skull, splitting his head clean in half.
Zach’s jaw dropped into an irregular shape, watching Brett’s split-open drag his corpse down onto the ground. Now, he was too terrified to even run away. As he turned around, he noticed that several more hooded figures were now slowly striding towards him, having appeared out of nowhere on this empty and desolate plain.
He looked in all directions, desperate for an escape; but there was not one. The ‘cult’ circled in on him…
Chapter 23: To the Gods
The cult moved mysteriously around Europe. Whoever they encountered, usually did not live to tell such a tale. It was impossible to note just how big of a group they were. They could be a few, or they could be many. It baffled many who knew of their existence, or had at least heard the rumours, just how they could be everywhere in Europe at once. From France, to Germany, to Denmark, to Belarus, to Switzerland; It was a real mystery, perhaps the only one around these lands anymore.
Two robed figures, with basic hammers and nails, were busy at work in a disused factory. They had a fire lit in rusty barrels behind them, whilst on the table in front of them, they appeared to be working with a large cross; it was a crucifix.
Neither of the robed figures spoke, nor were their faces visible. Their work appeared to be praying; they prayed on either side of the cross, knelt down on their knees. Once they had finished whispering whatever they were chanting, they rose to their feet again.
They turned to face the ‘new recruit’. She had the robe on, however her hood was not up. One of the hooded figures next to Crucifix pointed to a decaying corpse in a wheelbarrow. The ‘new recruit’ nodded, as she walked over to the object, and wheeled it towards her ‘superiors’.
The two hooded figures stood at the head and the feet of the corpse. They threw the tarpaulin off; it was the corpse of Brett.
Lifting the corpse up carefully by either extreme, they carried it onto the table with the large crucifix, and stretched his arms out in line with the cross.
Grabbing their hammers and a nail each, they dug into his wrists.
The ‘new recruit’ had to face away slightly from the sight of such brutality, as well as the dry blood surfacing around the entry points.
The hooded figures starting humming lowly, turning to face the new recruit, as though they wanted her to join in. After a slight hesitation, she did so.
From behind the cracked pillars, more hooded figures ominously walked towards the crucifix; they were preparing to carry it, but where to?
Later…
Meanwhile in the refugee camp, Elliot was briefing his own group on what their next course of action was.
“According to you,” Elliot nodded to Tina, “Kristina’s in no shape to be moved just yet. Is this correct?” He asked for confirmation.
Kristina nodded, slightly disheartened.
“I’m sure we can all agree; we have to wait for her to get better. We can’t just leave her here.” Elliot pointed out the obvious. Tina and Bertie nodded in agreement, almost simultaneously. Scott and Dawn, who had decided to join Elliot’s group – as they had not been at the refugee camp for long either – nodded as well, “When Maria eventually shows her face, I’m sure she’ll agree,” Scott had not seen his sister all day.
“Yeah, and Eric will feel the same way,” Dawn smiled, thinking of her son; Though she had not seen him today either.
“And I’m sure Celeste will too,” Tina remarked, “Haven’t seen her either, though? Where is everybody today?”
“Excellent, then we’re all in agreement, correct?” Elliot made sure, though he had forgotten one person’s opinion.
“No.” Annabelle bluntly replied. “Why don’t we just leave now? The people here are good people. We can leave Kristina in their hands. She’s much better off here, anyway. It’s not as if we know her that well anyway,” she turned her head to make eye contact with Bertie, “Or him, for that matter,” she cynically noted.
“That doesn’t matter, Annabelle. When you and I first met, your mother told me to keep well away from you. Now, you and I are siblings.” Elliot spoke pseudo-facts.
Though Annabelle wanted to rebut what Elliot had said, she still loved him as a brother regardless, and did not want to cause a rift between them; especially since a rift is what had caused her to leave Gwen to return to Elliot in the first place.
“So, we are all in agreement?” Elliot tried once again.
“Still no.” Annabelle was blunt again. “It doesn’t matter what we became, Elliot. That was a one-off. People die. Lots of people have died, since that day. The same thing will happen to those two,” she nodded at Bertie, and looked behind him towards the curtain that was keeping Kristina private.
“One day Annabelle, we’re all gonna die. All of us. One day, just one of us lot will be left. Does it matter who’s around at that time? No, not really. If Bertie wants to stay with us, then we’ll not leave Kristina behind. When I ran off from London, you and your mother could’ve left me. But you didn’t. Your mother brought me back. I’m just paying such a favour forward,” Elliot justified himself, “I’m also repenting for who
I was.” He made it clear he was self-aware about his ‘corrupt’ nature.
“So, I’ll say it once more,” Elliot believed the third time was the charm still, “We’re all in agreement, then?” They all nodded in response; even Annabelle, albeit reluctantly.
“Good. Next question: Prague?” Elliot swiftly moved along.
But before he could even finish the last syllable of his question, Tina shot him down, “Nope. Not Prague.” Her outlook had flipped. “It’s not worth it,” she explained her decision. “We don’t even know if this ‘safe haven’ is a real place. But what we do know, is that this place exists… So, why should we leave it? Sure, it’s just a refugee camp, but at least we know that it’s real, and that there’s good people here. We’ve been looking for something like this ever since Hackley went to complete shit. Why give this up? We have what we need. Food, water, shelter – Let’s stay here, rather than throw ourselves back out there, ok?” She was adamant about her view.
“But Prague could exist, Tina. It could be the paradise that every survivor dreams of, these days.” Annabelle had the more positive view this time, ironically. “This place is good and all, but it belongs to Xavier and the others. It’s small and pygmy. It will collapse, and it will be our fault. London fell because of us, the Air field fell because of us, we had to leave the Mansion – to an extent – because of us… And of course Hackley, because of us. Who are we to ruin this small place? Xavier’s a good guy, and he’s got a wife and daughter here. We have no right to ruin that for him.”
“Right, but even if what you’re saying is true,” Tina acknowledged Annabelle’s point, “If we go to Prague, then surely we’ll just be ruining that place as well? Won’t we just get even more people killed? I say, it’s better for us to ‘ruin’ a small survivors’ camp, than it is to ruin what you call a ‘paradise’.”
“If it is a paradise,” Annabelle was not giving in easily, “Then it’ll be able to take care of itself. This place, these people, they’re more vulnerable. A safe haven in Prague would be a lot more fortified then this. Do you get that? Or is your mind still clouded with thoughts of Erica?” She unnecessarily scolded her.
Human Nature (Book 2): Human Nature II Page 12
