by Casey, Ryan
Sometimes Mike did lie in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what would happen if this place really did fall? If the power they held so dearly were to go out? The bar was always busy, after all. He could see people in here, regulars. Grant. Emilia. Gerry. Friendly people.
And it wasn’t just them. It didn’t matter who it was, people here were always having fun. There was still an independence to the place—people went along with their own lives. Did their own thing. And that sometimes made Mike wonder.
He liked to think they’d find a way to stick together, as he looked around the bar at the tables filled with people, at the bartender working away behind the bar. He looked at all these faces—all from different walks of life, but all united now—and he liked to think they would stand strong. To learn from the past and not let themselves fall into disarray all over again.
But he knew things weren’t always as easy as that.
“What’re we thinking about tomorrow then?” Sarah said. “Close run?”
Gina snorted. “Close run? Graham’s going to get a wake-up call.”
“Don’t be harsh,” Romesh said. “He’s a bit… out of touch. But he’s alright, really.”
“Out of touch?” Gina said. “Whenever he sees you, he’s always keen to mention just how many Muslim friends he has. And you’re Hindu.”
More laughter at that. But Mike could tell that Romesh was being forgiving, conciliatory. “I guess at the end of the day, he just wants what’s best for people, in his own kind of way. I mean… he’s fearful of outsiders. He doesn’t want to lose what we’ve worked so hard to build. Can we blame him for that, really?”
Sarah sipped her drink. “I’d say he sounds a lot like the bigots of the old world. Scared of letting people in. Scared of change.”
“Sometimes it’s right to fear change,” Mike said.
Alison frowned at him. “Am I detecting a bit of sympathy with Graham’s cause?”
“It would be short-sighted not to be… well, cautious of the kind of people we’re letting into this place. We’ve been lucky over the last two years that everyone’s behaved. But we have to stay alert. We have to stay wary. We have to know who is coming in. Because the second we let our guard drop… that’s when the downfall starts.”
Silence followed. A few coughs, a few sideward glances. Plenty of awkwardness.
“But just to clarify,” Mike said. “I think Graham’s an old bigot who’s about to have his wrinkly arse handed to him.”
“Hey,” Alison said. “I thought you were telling me he’s only forty-two!”
Everyone erupted, then. Even Sarah, who was usually pretty reserved, cracked a smile.
“Forty-four, actually. But thanks for pointing my premature ageing out. Wisdom before beauty, right?”
Mike almost jumped from his seat.
When he turned around, he saw Graham standing there.
He was dressed in a smelly, creased suit that he looked like he’d lifted from a dead body. His hair was combed, but half-heartedly, in a desperate attempt to look official. There was a smell of booze on his breath even though he’d only just stepped into the bar.
“Oh,” Mike said, wiping his beer-soaked lips. “Hi, Graham. Didn’t see you there.”
“It would appear not,” he said. “Anyway. I’ll leave you to it. A nice beer before the election tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah,” Romesh said. “Good luck with that. Really. Whatever happens… well, this place is a democracy. We should respect that.”
Graham didn’t seem to buy into Romesh’s conciliatory tone. “Democracy is all well and good until things fall apart. We saw what happened when the old world fell apart. We have to be tough. We have to be strong.”
He took a few steps towards the bar, then stopped.
“By the way,” he said, looking at Mike now. “That girl of yours. Kelsie. You really ought to teach her some manners after her behaviour earlier today.”
Mike frowned. “What’s all that about?”
“She… well. Let’s just say she reacted rather callously to an attempt to spread the word to her and her fellow students. But anyway. Discipline will come, one way or another.”
He went to walk away, but something sparked inside Mike. Something he didn’t like.
The way Graham had spoken about Kelsie.
About discipline.
“Hey,” Mike said, scraping back his chair, standing up.
“Mike,” Alison said.
“Yeah, leave it out, Mike,” Romesh intervened.
But Mike wasn’t for letting this slide. He walked over to Graham. Squared up to him. Felt that surge of protectiveness course through his bloodstream.
Graham looked back at him, wry smile on his face. “Something to say, Mike?”
Mike wasn’t sure whether the booze was over-exaggerating his aggression, but he said the words that were on his mind. “Stay away from Kelsie. And when you lose this election tomorrow… crawl back into whatever hole you came from.”
“I think that’s quite enough—”
“You’re pathetic,” Mike said. “Vincent built this place up. He bent over backwards to accommodate parasites like you. You should be more grateful. You’re lucky you’re even here.”
A flicker of anger on Graham’s face. A twinge of hate. The rest of the bar falling silent, just watching.
Then Graham took a breath and smiled back at Mike again.
“Thank you for your honest criticism,” he said. “We’ll just see how results go tomorrow night, okay?”
He turned around then and walked over to the bar.
Mike headed back to his table. Sat down. The rest of the table glaring at him.
“What was all that about?” Alison asked.
Mike looked back at Graham. Saw the way he ordered a drink so coolly, so calmly.
“Nothing,” Mike said. “Just an idiot being an idiot. Who’s for another?”
But he couldn’t deny something.
An air of unmistakable confidence about Graham.
A cocky swagger about him.
Like something wasn’t quite right.
Chapter Six
It was the middle of the night when Mike heard the commotion.
His eyes shot open. He jolted upright. The darkness was intense and suffocating. Somewhere in the distance, though, he could hear the slight hum of electricity—something taken so for granted usually—so that put him at ease.
But there was a noise. Something outside.
Something that sounded like shouting.
Something that filled him with dread.
Mike looked over at Alison. She was still lying there beside him, fast asleep. He wanted to ask her whether she thought he should go down and take a look. But she looked so peaceful. He didn’t want to disturb her.
So he’d have to take matters into his own hands.
He got out of bed. Got dressed. Wrapped himself in something warm. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was certainly cold. Winter was creeping up on them—fast.
And as much as he knew they were more than capable of surviving winter here… there was always that fear associated with it at the back of his mind.
At the back of everyone’s mind.
Everyone who was still here knew what nasty surprises winter held in this powerless world.
But that wasn’t the world they lived in now.
The world they lived in was different.
He put on his shoes and went to step outside when he saw something sitting beside the door. A metal baseball bat. One he kept in here at all times.
He’d never had to use it. And he didn’t want to. Because grabbing that bat was an admission that he was getting in touch with a side of himself that he didn’t want to, all over again.
He gritted his teeth and grabbed it anyway. The shouting outside… he didn’t want to dramatise, but it sounded bad.
Like something serious was going down.
He stepped out of his room, onto the co
rridor of the hospital he was staying in. He was in the main block. Not everyone lived in here. They had other buildings and built little houses outside—wooden huts, that kind of thing. But Mike was one of the lucky ones.
When he stepped out onto the corridor and didn’t see anyone looking, he found it even stranger.
Then he turned around and almost jumped out of his skin.
“Bloody hell, Harrison,” Mike said.
Harrison was standing there, dressed in a rather comical set of striped pyjamas. His hands were wrapped around his chest. “Guessing you’ve heard what I’ve heard?”
Mike nodded. “It looks that way.”
Harrison glanced at the baseball bat in Mike’s hands. “You reckon that will—will be necessary? Really?”
Mike looked at it again, and he felt the same repulsion of the threat of violence it promised. But he had to be reasonable. He had to be rational. “It sounds pretty hectic out there,” he said. “Figured it’d be better if I took it out there. Just in case.”
He started walking past Harrison. Then he stopped. “You never know. There could be a flesh-eating horse on the loose.”
Harrison didn’t look like he saw the funny side.
They walked down the corridor of the hospital together. And as much as Mike had acclimatised to this place long ago—as much as it was home—he still had to admit there was something creepy about walking its corridors at night. The closed doors of the private rooms on this corridor. The echoes of the footsteps. That slight medicinal smell still in the air. The sense that these corridors were still recovering from their busyness so long ago.
“What do you think’s happening out there?” Harrison asked as they reached the bottom of the steps, headed towards the door.
“I don’t know,” Mike said. “But I’d say we’re about to find out very soon.”
He took a deep breath.
Then he lowered the handle.
When the door opened, he was surprised just how loud the voices were, now. He couldn’t get a sense of where they were coming from. Not at first.
And then as he stepped outside the hospital, looked past the tents and the huts—which some people were gathered outside—he saw exactly where it was coming from, and his stomach sank.
“The gates,” Mike said.
He walked towards the gates. And as he made his way past the people outside their homes, looks of concern on their faces, chatting amongst one another, he couldn’t shake that run-in with Graham he’d had that night. The way he’d just rubbed him the wrong way. That feeling that he had something brewing—something planned.
Something wasn’t right.
As he got closer to the gates, he didn’t see Graham anywhere. Which disappointed him, in a way, because he wanted a reason to pin whatever was happening here on him right away.
But as he got closer, his thoughts of blame soon disintegrated.
Someone was lying on the ground.
It was Emilia. She was holding her stomach, but it was clear that she was dead. She’d bled out. Wasn’t moving a muscle.
And in front of her was a man.
Mike didn’t recognise him at first. Not until he realised it was Paulo, one of the night watchmen. He was a bit of a creep in all truth. There’d been a few accusations of misconduct against him, but nothing concrete to go on. He hadn’t been in this place for very long.
But long enough to do this.
Long enough to cause this chaos.
He was holding a knife. Shouting back at Ingrid, one of the police officers for this place.
“This is not how it went down,” Paulo shouted.
“Drop your weapon,” Ingrid said. Baton raised.
Mike edged closer. Bat in hand.
“You’re believing a lie,” Paulo said, clearly not speaking very good English. “All of this. All a lie.”
“Drop your weapon. Now!”
Paulo lowered his knife.
Then he shook his head.
And right on cue, he threw himself at Ingrid.
Mike didn’t hesitate.
He didn’t hold back.
He rushed in. Pushed Ingrid out of the way.
And then he looked Paulo in his begging eyes, and he pulled back the baseball bat.
“Please,” Paulo started.
But it was already too late.
Mike had already made the call.
Mike cracked the bat against his skull.
Hard.
Paulo fell to the ground. Started twitching, shaking, frothing at the mouth.
And as Mike stood there and watched, as the rest of the residents of this place surrounded him, he could only hold on to his metal baseball bat with a shaky hand.
He could only watch as Paulo continued to gasp, continued to fit.
He could only watch as in the light of the moon, this outsider—by the side of one of their own, stabbed to death—went still.
And he knew right then, on the eve of an election, that everything was changing.
Chapter Seven
When the sun finally rose, there was a very different feeling around Wright Green Hospital.
The clouds had parted completely. The sun shone down brightly. But there was a chill to the air. A chill in this beautiful day, cutting through, a reminder of the awfulness that had happened; the horrors that had unfolded in the early hours.
Mike stood by Alison’s side and held her hand as Romesh and a few of the other workers began to bury Emilia.
Everyone was gathered around. There had been no mention of what was happening about today’s election, only that it was assumed it would go on hold for the time being at least. Vincent was here. But it seemed like he had been shattered by the events of what had happened. Like he couldn’t understand what had gone down—the unpredictability of them.
Graham was here too. And he didn’t seem surprised at all.
As was Emilia’s ex-husband, Grant.
He was standing by Graham’s side. Staring, wide-eyed, down into the depths of the grave below. Mike had passed on his sympathies to him. So many of them had passed on their sympathies to him. But what could you say, really? How could you expect him to respond? He’d lost his wife. She’d been stabbed in cold blood by a night worker, Paulo, the details of which were still spurious, but it seemed like an attempted rape and a subsequent scuffle were the only conclusions, judging by the limited coroner’s report that they’d been able to run.
But it meant one thing had changed. The attitude of this place. A place that was so perfect and was so idyllic on the surface… but a place where in the background, unspoken tensions had been bubbling for quite some time.
Mike just feared this was the moment where everything would spill out of control.
They had to stop that happening.
They had to stick together.
“Would anyone like to say a few words in memory of Emilia?” Eleanor, the priest, asked.
There was silence. Grant kept on staring down at the grave like he still couldn’t believe what had happened; as if Emilia was just going to hover up to the surface and that this would be exposed as some kind of lie.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
Mike heard a cough. When he looked to his left, he saw Gina stepping forward.
“I can’t… I can’t say I knew Emilia too well,” Gina said, her voice shaky, the nerves of her younger years rearing their head again. “But—but when I did speak to her, she was always nice to me. Always kind. And always smiling, too.”
Grant smiled at that. Wiped his eyes. Like he was softening in memory of her.
Gina was fidgeting around with her sleeves. Which made Mike wonder. It made him… nervous, in a way.
Nervous of what might be coming next.
“But if I know one thing about Emilia, it’s that she would want us to carry on.”
People looked around. Frowned. Mike found himself doing, too.
“Today’s… today’s election. It’s not going to be the same. Of co
urse it’s not. But we cannot allow an act against democracy to succeed. Think of the old world. When there was a tragedy, you had two options. You let the tragedy change democracy, or you kept on going, mindful of the—of the past. We have that choice today. And we should take it.”
Grant looked less certain about this. But there were more nods than shakes of the head. There seemed to be more affirmation than disagreement.
But Gina continued.
“And I… I think it’s important we don’t let what happened to Emilia change our tolerance towards outsiders.”
As much as Mike agreed with her, deep down… he knew too damn well that now wasn’t the time or the place for this kind of speech.
Not while emotions were raw.
Not while feelings were high.
“Gina,” he said.
But it was already too late.
“Are you saying we should just let these bastards off?” Grant said.
He’d snapped. Mike could see that. And it was intimidating, in a way. He was a big guy, but he always seemed so calm. So composed. He could be forgiven for acting the way he was, especially after what’d happened to his wife.
But this was a development they could do with avoiding right now.
“Of course I’m not saying justice shouldn’t go unpunished,” Gina said as a few voices of dissent began to rise. “I’m just saying—”
“We’ve been letting too many of these spongers in for way too long,” Grant said.
A bunch of cheers of approval. But in response, some shouts of disagreement, too.
And a sense deep within that this situation was spiralling out of control.
On the verge of getting nasty.
People shouted at one another. Disagreed. Arguments began to break out.
And all Mike could do was watch as Vincent stood there and looked around at what his home was descending into.
And then at Graham. Eyes lowered. Letting everything just play out.
He saw the two rival groups pushing against one another.
And as much as he wanted to step into the middle of it… he didn’t want to step up into a leadership role. Not again.
He hesitated. Paused. Went to step forward.
