by Riva, Aline
“Something wrong, Chris?”
“Oh River, you can't say that in a letter to the parents!” he exclaimed.
“Say what?” she asked, biting her lip as she looked away, resisting the urge to laugh as Chris began to read:
“And this letter is being written by Doctor River Riley, as I'm the only one with a working photocopier in this town and I just want to add that Chris is HOT! I've seen him take out zombies on the road, and the thought of him being such a hero makes me want to drag him off to bed right now! I'm so glad he won't be coming into work for the next week because I won't be letting him out of my bedroom!”
Chris stared at her.
“You can't say that, River!”
She laughed as she took the letter from him, screwed it up and tossed it into the bin.
“The real letter is in the photocopier,” she assured him, “Stating all of the facts and nothing about how much I love you...” she paused to press the button and the machine started to copy the real letter, as she slid her arms around him and pressed up close, smiling as their eyes met.
“I'm so damned proud of you!” she said softly, and then she kissed him.
As he drew back he remembered something and his smile faded.
“I need to talk to Joy and Mickey when I get back,” he told her, “That fox we found today... Angel was playing with its guts and talking about when her mum ate her dad's insides.”
As River stepped back she drew in a sharp breath.
“Oh no, we can't let her do things like that.... My opinion, as a doctor: She's trying to make sense of what she saw. The sight of the fox must have triggered her memory and she was trying to understand it. She didn't try and eat it, did she?”
“No, thankfully!”
“I think a lot of kids who have lived through the outbreak will grow up with memories of stuff they can't forget, and it will affect them in some way - but it doesn't mean they'll go crazy, Chris. I know what you're thinking, I can see it in your eyes. No, I don't think Angel will try and gut a person to act out what she saw. She's just a little girl trying to lay the past to rest by rationalising it all. It might help that she's growing up with other outbreak kids, her generation will have a lot of stories to share. It will probably help her to come to terms with what she saw.”
“And we do need to talk to Mickey and Joy.”
“Yes, we should tell them, but let's not worry them,” River reminded him, “Angel's seen a lot and been through a lot, but we know her well and for all she's been through, she's a normal little girl.”
Chris nodded in agreement, hoping she was right. Thinking about what Angel had done to that fox in the playground still gave him chills...
Later that evening, while Mickey was over at the community hall listening to one of Charlie Featherstone's former soldiers read a report on the fencing repairs, he was wondering if he would have time to mention, no zombie costumes on Halloween, and the matter of the kids being driven to school in bad weather. As the committee asked questions about the repairs and Devan listened pausing to make notes, Mickey felt eyes on him, and knew at once who was staring. It was Brett, on the other side of the table, glaring at him as his resentment simmered quietly. No one had told him about the fencing, or the incident at the school. He had said, I wasn't aware of this, and had shot Mickey a look of pure anger as Mickey has shrugged and said, It was all over by the time I heard about it. Then Devan had added, I handled it, Brett... Mickey looked away, ignoring Brett as he listened as the committee leader asked if there were any more matters to bring up, then as Brett gathered notes and prepared to speak, Mickey stood up, clumsily snatching up his own notes in his weak hand.
“Yes, I have two subjects that need airing.”
As he spoke about Halloween and then the car sharing suggestion for the kids, Brett sat there in silence, wishing that damned Evolved had never bitten him. Every day he felt his power sliding away more, thanks to Mickey. He still resented the fact that Joy had spun a lie about Carla to get her freed – now he felt stupid for believing her story about Carla being nothing more than a fantasist. Now it was common knowledge that the Evolved were healers, and the true story of how the virus had come about was all over Wickstall, too. It had come from Carla Reynolds... Brett looked down at his papers, anger silently seething quietly as he avoided Mickey's gaze, not wanting him to see the murderous look that burned there.
As the night drew in, the skies were dark and the wind outside howled cold about the house as within, the lamplight glowed as Joy went into Angel's room to say goodnight to her. She had shared a worrying conversation with River, and she would tell Mickey all about it when he got back from the meeting. But she wanted to talk to Angel before bed, to be sure this subject was aired and closed, because she didn't want anyone to dwell on it for Angel's sake.
“Was it scary today, at the school?” she asked as she sat on the edge of her bed.
“Not really. Archie was scared but I helped him. I knew Chris would get the zombie.”
“Chris told me about the fox,” Joy said cautiously, “You touched its guts?”
Angel paused.
“It made me think about Mummy and Daddy.”
“When they were zombies?”
Angel nodded.
“You mustn't touch things like that,” Joy told her, “It's not the way to remember your parents. Try and think about happy times before they got the bite.”
“I do try. But then I see Mummy eating Daddy's insides.”
“That wasn't Mummy,” Joy reminded her, “You saw zombies, Angel. Your parents were gone.”
“But it was Mummy and Daddy!”
“As zombies, not as your parents,” Joy said softly, then she let the subject drop, afraid Angel might have nightmares.
“Goodnight, Angel,” she said, and as she smiled and said goodnight in reply, she didn't look at all disturbed as she closed her eyes, relaxing as she settled down to sleep by the glow of her night light. She looked so normal for a child whose experience of life had been anything but normal. Joy left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Later Mickey came in quietly, finding the house in darkness. The meeting had gone on until late and as he had left the community hall, his weak leg had felt stiff in the cooling weather and the air coming in off the sea had felt close to freezing as he had turned up the collar of his long thick coat. Then Brett had walked over, offering him a ride home in his car.
“No thanks, I'll feel better for the walk,” Mickey had said, and then as he walked stiffly off into the unlit street as the wind blew in strong from the sea and he shivered, he had wondered why he had turned Brett down. He had caught the look of anger in his eyes when he had grabbed the final hour of the meeting, leaving him sitting there in silence. Brett had been been in a bad mood all evening after being the last to know about the safety breach with the barrier, but that look he had given him across the table... It still bothered him now as he took off his coat and hung it up, then made his way up the stairs. Even in the warmth and security of this place he had come to think of as home, he still felt uneasy, his thoughts shifting back to that look Brett had given him, as if he resented him, like... he wanted to kill him?
Mickey had gone down the hallway, opened the bedroom door quietly then gone inside, shut the door and as he sat down on the edge of the bed and Joy turned over in her sleep, he breathed a relieved sigh. He felt safe to be home with the one he loved, safe with Joy, safe because... Why would he feel unsafe? Since when had he felt unsafe in this town, away from the zombies, in this secure place that was as close to normal life as he could hope to get?
“What happened that day?” he whispered as he began to undress quickly and quietly, as he thought back to the day of the accident. But nothing was there, it was still a blank. Perhaps the memory would never return... He didn't know why he felt so uneasy. Brett was an overgrown spoiled brat who expected the town to love and idolise him because he had come up with the plan to build the barrier and
lock out the zombies - and he had locked them out, and two thirds of the town with them. He demanded respect when he gave none in return and he hated anyone affecting how others might see him. He feared damage to that fake veneer he gave off, that shining example of perfection...
“This is MY town!” yelled Brett, his eyes wide as he leaned in.
The memory had flashed to mind, a split second of a day where all else was lost to him. Mickey gave a gasp, his heart racing at the clarity of what he had seen, they were... somewhere quiet, as he heard Brett's voice echo as a crazed look came to his eyes and he yelled in his face. Now Mickey's mind was racing: Brett had said, he had seen him climb the ladder and fall. But he had just seen Brett leaning over him, yelling like a maniac... He had never recalled this before...
Mickey got into bed still feeling uneasy, and he shifted closer to Joy, who gave a sigh and wrapped her arms around him.
“You're freezing!” she said as she woke up and held her cold lover closer, rubbing at his back as they lay beneath the covers, “How did the meeting go?”
“Fine,” Mickey replied, “I could tell Brett resented being left out. He's starting to notice how much the balance of power is shifting...” he was about to tell her about his suspicions, but then Joy spoke again.
“Chris and River were talking about what happened at the school today. When the kids found the dead fox, Angel was beside it and getting hands on curious with its guts, as she talked about mummy eating daddy when they turned into zombies.”
“What?”
Mickey sat up and snapped on the light.
Joy blinked away the glare that had cut through the darkness as she saw the shocked expression on Mickey's face.
“She was playing with...no, this can't be happening, Joy! I thought she was over that, she's young, she can forget and move on -”
“I don't think any of the kids who survive the outbreak can forget it,” Joy replied, “River seems to think it triggered the memory, seeing that fox - and Angel was trying to make sense of what happened to her parents. I spoke to Angel tonight and she still had trouble understanding that when her parents changed, they were not mum and dad any more. She knew they'd turned, she could see it - but she still recognised them as her parents and she can't let go of that. I don't know how to explain this to a kid so young.”
“We don't,” Mickey said quietly, “We can't explain it. We need to give her love and care and support and encourage her not to look back.”
Worry reflected in Joy's eyes.
“You really think that's all she needs?”
“Yes, I think she needs to have a happy and stable life and that's the best way for her to get over what happened. It has to be, it's all we can give her, Joy!”
Mickey looked worried. Joy wished she had not chosen now to tell him about the fox incident, but she could hardly have waited until morning and told him about it over breakfast, describing how Angel had unravelled intestines with fascination as she talked about her mother eating her father...
“It's late,” Joy added, turning off the light, “Let's go to sleep, Mickey. And try not to worry about Angel.”
“It's been a rough day,” Mickey replied, “First the zombie at the school, then Brett giving me death stares all the way through the meeting because no one told him about the break in the barrier. I made it worse by taking the last spot for raising issues because I wanted to talk about the car sharing idea for the kids...”
“You look on edge,” Joy told him, “It must have been a stressful night. You need to rest.”
As they settled back down together, Mickey lay close to her once more, and in the dark and the silence, his thoughts turned again to Brett, to the look he had seen in his eyes as he glared at him in the meeting. Then he recalled that shard of memory that he couldn't place, as Brett had said the town was his...And what Joy had just said, about him being on edge... that bothered him, too...
Just as he closed his eyes, he heard Brett's voice echo in his mind as a far distant memory: Some people don't know when they're on the edge, Mickey... He snapped his eyes open, catching his breath as beside him, Joy slept on. He searched his memory again, coming up against a frustrating blank of nothing... Had Brett tricked him on to that platform and pushed him off? He thought about the story everyone accepted as true, that he had climbed the ladder and slipped. That was back in summer, while it was true his mild paralysis always gave way to aches and pains and worse stiffness in the colder months, he still could have cleared that ladder, even in Winter... But Carla had said he had fallen from the ladder, and it had been an accident. Why would Carla lie for Brett? She hated his guts, he had imprisoned her and put her through hell when she had first arrived here, she had no loyalty to him. It kind of surprised him that she hadn't said Brett had done it, even if he was innocent, just to spite him...
“That's what I would have done,” Mickey murmured, a sly half smile on his face as he thought about how he would have taken revenge, then he thought about it some more and knew he wouldn't get any sleep if he didn't stop studying all these theories. Maybe Brett had done it. Or maybe it had been an accident. He had almost died from his injuries and the whole day was a blank, and probably always would be. He was lucky to be alive, he would be dead if not for that bite from the Evolved. Maybe that was why he was imagining these scenarios now, picturing Brett yelling at him, threatening him. Perhaps none of that had happened. Now he knew what had to be done: There was only one person who could clear this up, and he would see her in the morning. He would speak to Carla and ask her exactly what happened on the day of his apparent accident...
The sun was shining come morning. There was not a single cloud in the sky as the Autumn sun shone on to the pier, there was still some strength to its heat that morning, too, cancelling out the chill wind that blew in gently over calm waters. This week, the committee had decided, was Halloween week. This also meant there would be absolutely no activities outdoors on the actual night of Halloween, for fear of people fooling around near the barriers, underestimating the fact that slowing, dying zombies were still deadly. There would be no trick or treating in the pitch dark, and no one was allowed to wear a costume that night, either - just in case idiots decided to dress as zombies and got themselves shot. Instead, the pier would be open all week, the attractions and the promenade would be open, and around town there would be a limited supply of pumpkins from the local farm, and paper garlands to be collected for those who wanted to decorate their homes on the inside only - no one wanted to ban Halloween completely, they just didn't want outdoor activities taking place.
The cafe by the pier had been open since seven am. Now it was just gone nine thirty and after putting on a black shirt and dark jeans and his leather jacket, Alex had arrived first, carrying with him the scent of cologne as he walked into a warm cafe that smelled of breakfast and hot coffee. He ordered two teas and took a seat by the window, unzipped his jacket and ran a hand over his neatly combed hair. Then he checked his watch. A moment later the bell above the door jingled and she came in wearing a warm white fluffy coat over a dark jumper and blue jeans as a blast of chilly air came with her, whipping up the ends of her long red hair as dead leaves chased in around the heels of her brown leather boots.
“Alice,” he said, smiling as she did too, and then she sat down at the table and reached for the tea in front of her, needing its heat to chase away the chill of the sea breeze.
“Alex,” she replied, smiling down at her tea, then as she met his gaze, she recalled how he had passed her yesterday while she was putting up the sign to say the fair would be open for Halloween Week. He had asked her, Would you like to go for a coffee sometime? She had told him she preferred tea, and tomorrow would be fine.
“It's good to see you,” Alex said to her.
He had liked Alice since they first met, and they had often exchanged a polite Hello and sometimes, they had talked for a short while as he waited for his shift on the beach to begin. He had mostly kept his distance
, assuming she was with Devan, because those two were always together, in and out of the office, discussing everything from allocation of housing to opening times for the fair and when to close it for the cold weather. And those two were close. But, not a couple. Since Devan had told him that he and Alice were actually best friends had had been through school, college and beyond, that had changed everything. Especially when Devan had added, Go for, it, ask her out. I'd like to see her happy with someone...
“I'm so glad you turned up,” Alex added with a smile as she smiled back.
“Of course I did! I wanted to meet you, I said so! It was freezing, walking over here. This is that crazy time of year when it looks warms and feels like early September, then the temperature suddenly drops. My hands are so cold.”
He reached across the table, giving her hand a brief squeeze.
“I make a great hand warmer. One of my many hidden talents!”
She laughed as he smiled, then she sipped her tea and set it down again.
“What are you planning to do when the zombies are gone, when the barriers come down? It's got to happen soon, everyone says they're dying off fast now.”
Alex paused for thought.
“I'm thinking about staying here, in Wickstall.”
He saw the warmth in her eyes as she looked at him over the steam that rose from her cup.
“I'm glad,” she replied.
They talked for an hour, then they left the cafe and by the time they were walking towards the entrance to the pier, their hands were linked. As they passed by the open attractions, they left behind the people who were enjoying the pleasant day of late October sun and carried on walking along the pier, as the sea stayed calm and suddenly, it was just the two of them and now they were alone they stopped walking as they stood by the rail and looked out to sea together.
“I meant what I said, Alex. I'm glad you're staying,” Alice told him as she turned towards him.
