After The End (Book 1): The Furious Four

by Rendle, Samantha

  ‘Thank you,’ said Beth quietly.

  ‘That won’t be happening,’ said Preston at the same time. They all looked at him. ‘We won’t be signing up for citizenship.’

  Steve’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth, dangling bacon. ‘Are you sure that’s wise? You have a baby with you.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Beth asked. She looked between them.

  ‘I’m responsible for the ginger one,’ Preston told Steve, nodding towards Kerry. ‘If Bethany and her kid want to come with us, fine, but I’m not going back. Odds are her rich boyfriend will swoop in and save the day, anyway.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Beth, suddenly very interested in a stray mushroom on her plate, ‘Des called this morning. He’s still in Switzerland. He says he’s stuck there.’

  ‘A likely story,’ Preston muttered.

  ‘He transferred me some money,’ she said quietly, ‘just to tide me and Gabriel over, because he doesn’t know when they’ll let him leave. No one’s allowed in or out, he says.’

  ‘The baby is yours?’ said Steve, and Beth nodded. ‘He’s delightful.’

  ‘He’s my friend,’ Kerry supplied.

  Steve beamed. ‘I’m sure he’ll be reunited with his daddy soon.’

  Breakfast was polished off; Kerry even plucked up the courage to eat Preston’s untouched toast. Steve cleared the plates and disappeared, and Preston led the others outside, where they sat on a picnic bench and soaked in the sun. It was nearing the end of May, and the coolness of spring was beginning to give way to warmth.

  Gabriel crawled around on the grass, swiping at butterflies like a kitten and giggling when they floated out of his grasp. Kerry and Beth watched him, his adoring fans. Preston lay across a bench, smoking, and stared at the sky. The cigarettes were an attempt to calm him in place of his medication, but they didn’t seem to be working. The anger he felt was overwhelming.

  Despite the foul mood he’d sunken into, the thought of finding his own place like this in the middle of nowhere, isolated and alone, appealed to him. He almost looked forward to proofing his new home against trespassers and filling it with books and liquor. He’d sleep on a mattress beside a wide window, watching the daylight come and go. He’d exercise. He’d teach the kid taekwondo when he was big enough, teach him how to build fires and read.

  He looked over at the drooling baby, at his dumb, happy expression. It didn’t look like it held much potential, but appearances could deceive, he supposed. Kerry slid off her small portion of the bench to kneel beside the baby, playing tenderly with him, and Beth leaned across the picnic table to meet Preston’s stony gaze.

  ‘Beth,’ he said carefully.

  ‘That’s right,’ she confirmed. ‘I have a question.’

  ‘No, I won’t smoke further away from your precious. I’m comfortable here.’

  ‘That wasn’t my question, but thank you for the coldness,’ she said, arching an eyebrow. ‘I was going to ask what happened to Kerry’s sister.’

  ‘Her name isn’t Kelly?’

  ‘No, her name is Kerry.’

  ‘Well, shit.’ He sat up and tossed his cigarette butt into the ashtray. ‘What did she tell you?’

  ‘That her sister ran off with a boyfriend,’ said Beth.

  ‘And you don’t believe that’s the case.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Beth. ‘I don’t know Kerry or her sister, but I do know that if I had a little sister and I was fleeing a zombie invasion, I wouldn’t abandon her for anyone. And don’t take offense, but you seem kind of unhinged, and you spend most of your time ignoring her existence. What sort of sister would leave Kerry with you?’

  ‘A terrible one,’ said Preston. ‘For all you know, Aggie was a terrible sister.’

  ‘Was,’ Beth repeated.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said she was a terrible sister.’

  ‘I did, didn’t I?’ Preston got to his feet. ‘I’m going to get us some drinks. I think late morning is an acceptable time to start drinking, don’t you?’

  He could feel her eyes on him as he sauntered off.

  Home Sweet Home

  The conflict rises and rises in intensity like boiling water, beginning with hissed reasoning and climbing to a loud crescendo of bubbling rage and death threats. Kerry watches, helpless, held back by Basil but not entirely resisting, as Gabriel points a gun square between Steve’s eyes, his body rigid with tension.

  The Ailing grunt and growl on the ground below, growing restless in the wake of food they can’t reach. Fortunately they don’t seem to have increased in numbers overnight.

  Sagging against Basil’s hard, warm chest, Kerry struggles to come to terms with what is happening. Ten o’clock has come and gone, and Beth and Preston still haven’t returned, which, according to Steve, confirms their deaths and/or abandonment. It’s time to take matters into his own hands, but Gabriel is less than cooperative.

  At ten o’clock on the dot, Steve had gotten to his feet without a word and began collecting bottles of alcohol, air freshener and any other flammables he could find, until Gabriel got to his feet and demanded he stop. They’d argued, their voices rising, and Poppy had scuttled into a corner where she now cowers, shivering.

  ‘No one is setting fire to this place but me,’ he growls now, holding the gun steady.

  ‘Be my guest,’ says Steve levelly, offering him a bottle he makes no move to take.

  ‘We’re going to wait here until Mum gets back,’ he says firmly.

  ‘And what if she doesn’t come back, Gabriel?’

  ‘Then we’re going to be waiting here for a very long time.’

  ‘Gabriel,’ says Kerry resignedly, ‘just let him try. The ground is soaked anyway. For all we know it might do more good than harm.’

  ‘He doesn’t want to do good,’ spits Gabriel, ‘he wants to save his fat ass – by setting fire to the lot of us, of all the ways!’

  A stone hitting the outer wall of the tree house jars their argument for a second, and they all look in the direction of the noise. It’s an acorn coming loose from an overhead branch, most likely, but it’s a distraction enough for Steve to smack the gun from Gabriel’s grasp, sending it skittering across the floor.

  Gabriel lunges after it, but not before Steve can snake an arm around his waist and haul him off his feet, screaming. Kerry finds her voice then, struggling against Basil’s long, skinny arms in an attempt to save Gabriel, shouting expletives and violent threats. Below them, the Ailing moan along in a sick chorus, enthusiastic for the disturbance and hopeful that it results in breakfast. Poppy sobs quietly in the corner, clutching her phone for dear life, and the cat hisses at Steve from across the room.

  ‘JUST STOP,’ screams Basil, so close to Kerry’s ears that she hears ringing.

  But silence only graces them for a heartbeat before Gabriel sinks his teeth into Steve’s bare arm, inciting a howl from the older man. He holds on like a dog playing tug of war, digging his sharp elbow painfully into Steve’s ribs.

  ‘Bloody kid,’ growls Steve, shoving Gabriel away, ‘can’t you see I’m trying to save us? I’m trying to save all of us!’

  Gabriel stumbles roughly away and blood bubbles on Steve’s leathery arm. Kerry catches the brief glimpse of triumph that skitters across Gabriel’s face. Calmly, he retrieves his gun and points it once more at Steve, wiping blood from his chin with his free hand. The zombies moan, a crowd egging on a fight in a schoolyard. He opens his mouth to speak, but a thump outside halts him.

  They all freeze, listening for other sounds amongst the groaning. Kerry imagines one of the idiots down there simply walked into a tree, but she keeps her mouth shut. Gabriel points to Poppy with his bloody hand.

  ‘You,’ he snarls, ‘go and look.’

  With her mouth opening and closing like a fish, Poppy shakes her head. Kerry feels a small pang of sympathy for the girl – she’s clearly terrified.

  ‘Now,’ says Gabriel impatiently.

  ‘You’r
e just a child,’ mutters Poppy. ‘What gives you the right-?’

  ‘Oh for crying out loud,’ he growls, ‘who’s the one pointing the gun, you moron?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s fair-’ says Steve.

  ‘Just go and look over the balcony, it’s not hard-’ says Kerry at the same time.

  ‘I’m not falling to my death-’ Poppy objects.

  ‘So bloody stupid-’ snaps Gabriel.

  ‘That’s enough!’ Basil exclaims. They all look to him as he loosens his grip on Kerry, who remains there out of surprise at his outburst. ‘Kerry and I will look, all right? Even though I suspect some twat has just walked into a tree down there.’

  Surprised once more, Kerry twists around to look at him. Up close she can see a cluster of freckles on his slightly upturned nose. His lips are smooth and pink, like hers were before she lost access to the world and, subsequently, lip balm. Up close, he’s even cuter.

  Kerry catches herself and moves away, locking eyes with Poppy just long enough to detect suspicion and envy. Basil follows her out of the room and onto the balcony, and what she sees below almost makes her scream with delight. That is, until one of them turns around in slow motion and locks eyes with the rescuers with plenty of time to raise the alarm.

  Below, Beth and Preston have just felled another two Ailing, armed with knives from the kitchen and the rake they keep for the vegetable patch. The zombie who’s clocked them screams a warning to his friends and every bald, scabby head turns to look at the newcomers. They manage to fell two more – Beth stabbing one between the eyes with her knife and Preston running one through with a rake – before they’re all upon them. Kerry does scream then.

  ‘Gabriel!’ she shrieks, hurling herself back inside and snatching Beth’s rifle from the hook. ‘It’s Beth and Preston, hurry!’

  Flinging themselves back onto the balcony and hardly registering Basil, who remains rooted to the spot, they witness Beth and Preston barely holding their own. They waste no time in firing. Gabriel’s shots are well-aimed and precise, bringing down a few furthest away from his mother so as not to hit her; and Kerry uses the scope on the rifle to aim for targets closer to their friends.

  Beside her, Kerry is minutely aware of Basil’s shallow breathing. She can imagine what this looks like to an Inlander: something you only see in films because this is just far too much. Heads explode on the bullets’ impact and blood slashes the forest in angry streaks as Preston and Beth stab and slice at their opponents. A moment later Steve joins Gabriel and Kerry on the balcony, holding the bow and what’s left of the arrows. Kerry nods to him from behind the rifle. She hears Poppy’s phone ring in the distance.

  Kerry squeals again as Beth loses her footing and a zombie dives on top of her, spitting and foaming as she holds it at bay. Kerry tries to aim at Beth’s attacker, but it’s thrashing too much and she’s not confident she won’t hit Beth. Despairing, she watches as the monster showers Beth in spittle, its mouth moving ever closer to her face as she struggles. Her heart pounds, sending vibrations through her whole body, until Preston appears with the rake, jams the butt of it into the zombie’s mouth and drives it back. With one swift movement he rotates the rake and stabs the bastard in the face, three prongs sticking out at its rear. Basil throws up beside Kerry.

  Noises clash: gunfire, screaming, thumping, Poppy’s hysterical crying. It goes on and on until finally it doesn’t anymore. The final Ailing slides leisurely off the end of the rake and Preston discards it, soaked in gore. The forest floor is littered with bodies, some separated from their limbs, some with their heads in tatters.

  ‘Fuck,’ says Beth, taking off her blood-spattered glasses and tossing them aside. ‘I thought I was a goner.’

  ‘I told you to take your bloody shoes off when your feet started hurting,’ says Preston.

  ‘Mum!’ cries Gabriel, throwing down the ladder and practically sliding down it.

  Kerry watches with dismay as he leaps over the piles of the dead and throws himself into Beth’s arms, his bath yesterday completely wasted. Preston looks up at the tree houses and catches Kerry’s eye – is that a smile she sees? It’s gone too quickly to tell, and then his gaze flicks between Steve and the stranger. Shrugging off his bloodstained jacket, he makes his way to the ladder and climbs deftly up to the balcony, offering Basil a withering glare.

  ‘Who the fuck is this?’ he demands, glancing down at the puddle of vomit at his feet before returning his glare to Basil.

  ‘This is-’ begins Kerry.

  ‘Later,’ Steve interrupts, gesturing for Preston to follow him inside. ‘We have to go.’

  He shoots Kerry a look that says, it’s like he owns the place, before heading in. Ratbag is at his side immediately, rubbing fondly against his legs. Poppy is jabbering into the phone, still curled up in the corner, and Preston throws her an icy stare that she flinches away from. Kerry feels a hand rest on the small of her back as they watch Preston gather bags and hurl them off the balcony. She looks up at Basil, whose face is pale, who seems to be drawing comfort from the simple touch.

  As Preston kneels slowly before the small wooden chest under the weapon-hooks on the wall, Kerry feels a sympathetic pang. Pulling regretfully away from Basil’s touch, Kerry kneels beside Preston and looks down at the box with him. It’s a wooden box with a hooked clasp and ornate carvings on the lid. On a small gold plaque in the centre are the letters IML. Naturally Preston never talks about these things, but Kerry has always assumed it has sentimental value. He opens the lid slowly, exhaling a quiet sigh.

  ‘It’s just a box,’ says Kerry gently.

  ‘It was my dad’s,’ he explains as he empties it of his beloved twin pistols.

  ‘Oh,’ she says softly, unsure what to say.

  ‘I beat the crap out of him before I took this off his mantelpiece,’ he adds.

  Not sentimental, she thinks, rolling her eyes, a trophy. I should’ve known.

  After rising and pocketing the guns he kicks the box across the room. It hits the doorframe connecting the bridge to the other room and its lid snaps off. She’d always wondered how he’d come to possess those guns. Now she wonders what sort of man his father was to own such things.

  They file out of the tree house and descend the ladder one at a time. On the ground, Beth and Gabriel have gathered the fallen luggage and are packing last-minute items. Gabriel beams up at Preston, who does not smile back. The Furious Four shoulder their bags and Kerry hands Beth her rifle.

  Kerry’s eyes fill with unexpected tears as Preston and Beth load the bike trailers with all the water they have, squeezing in tins where they’ll fit. They roll up four sleeping bags and tie those to the trailers too. Shampoo and cutlery are thrown in as an afterthought. She gazes up at the dormitories above, and for the first time ever the word comes to her: home. She lets the tears fall silently, well used to the snide remarks Preston dishes out if he sees anyone betraying even a hint of emotion. She feels an arm snake around her, and she leans into the chest it connects to. Steve smells like sweat and dirt, but she doesn’t pull away.

  ‘I know,’ he whispers gently, and it summons more tears. An old sadness, a sadness she felt for him eight years ago when they left the inn, resurfaces. ‘I know,’ he says again.

  ‘That’s all of it,’ Beth announces, putting an arm around Gabriel, who seems to be refusing to leave her side. ‘It’s time to go.’

  ‘Ginger,’ snaps Preston as he deposits the cat on top of one of the trailers. Kerry turns, slowly, to face him, but he doesn’t acknowledge her tears. ‘You and Gabriel will ride ahead and keep an eye out for any more of those bastards. Beth and I will tow the trailer bikes with Steve and these random weirdos.’

  ‘Leave it,’ Basil advises as Poppy opens her mouth to argue.

  ‘Actually,’ says Gabriel with an apologetic glance to Kerry, ‘can Mum ride ahead with me?’

  ‘I can manage a trailer bike,’ says Kerry quietly.

  ‘Whatever, then,’ agrees Prest
on. ‘I suppose then you can tell me what the hell happened.’

  The walk through the trees is difficult with a trailer, but Kerry doesn’t complain. She supposes she’s in shock after losing the Sanctuary, so she’s grateful when Steve calmly explains to Preston what happened while he and Beth were gone. Between Kerry and Preston, Steve strides with his machete swinging casually at one side, and Basil and Poppy walk with their arms around each other. Kerry would think it sweet if she didn’t have a tiny crush on Basil.

  Ahead, the way is clear. Beth and Gabriel have cycled off, but Kerry has heard no sound of disturbance or struggle so far. She’s sure the motorway should be presenting itself soon. And then what, she wonders.

  ‘We ran into a couple of them on the road before we got here,’ Preston grunts. ‘That got Beth worried – she made us rush back. I wouldn’t have kept these idiots alive if I’d known they’re the cause of all this.’

  ‘Then we were smart to leave before telling you,’ says Steve. ‘Besides, it’s hardly their fault their car broke down.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ countered Preston, ‘maybe someone should listen to the car advice given by his father-in-law.’

  ‘We’re not married,’ says Basil.

  ‘I don’t care,’ says Preston.

  ‘He doesn’t care,’ says Steve at the same time. Preston almost smiles.

  ‘Either way,’ says Kerry, ‘the time to kill them has passed, don’t you think?’

  ‘We’ll see,’ grumbles Preston.

  They walk for almost half an hour before they reach the road. Basil tells Kerry about Sunday football matches with his friends, a recent film about robot aliens, bonfires by the ocean and long, scary drives across the country among scavengers and Ailing. He tells her about his life inside the wall, and she feels a stab of envy at the normality of it all, but the romance is not lost on her. The thought of bonfires on the sand wakes butterflies in her stomach.

  For a while, at the beginning, she’d believed Beth about the virus blowing over. She’d believed she could go home and resume her life as normal, minus David and possibly Aggie. She’d learn to ride a horse, she’d pass her SATs at school, she’d grow up and become a fashion designer and she’d marry a prince. Nine-year-old Kerry was naive. Like any other nine year old, she supposes. Now the permanence of her situation is all around her, something she can’t avoid. Basil is just another reminder.