“
O
n my count
,” Miriam said. “Three. Two. One. Let’s go.”
Hayden didn’t want to follow Miriam out of the door towards the canteen. He didn’t want to throw himself into a battleground. He could hear bullets flying through the prison. Could see people launching themselves at guards, taking them down. And he didn’t want to be a part of that. It felt unnatural. Like walking across hot coals.
He knew he was walking towards his own death.
He knew he was risking everything.
But he didn’t have a choice. Not anymore.
He just needed to get the hell out of this place.
He crouched down. Squeezed the axe tight in his hand. The guards were on the top level. A few people had made it down the stairs, some of them alive, most of them now dead. A man held onto his bleeding chest, looked up at Miriam. Hayden thought he saw him nod at her like they recognised one another.
And then he heard gunshots crack the tiles on his right.
Hayden launched himself out of the way of them. Ran under the stairs, following Miriam’s every step. He saw the others gathering around him, around Miriam, like they were both some kind of leaders.
Nausea built at this fact more than the gunshots thudding in his direction.
Because he knew what happened when he led.
Bad things happened.
“We need to make a break up the stairs.”
“That’s suicide,” someone shouted.
“I know it is, Jack. I know. But we don’t have much of a choice right now. Not if we want to get out of here.”
Jack shook his head. He had long, dark hair, cracked glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Hope you know what you’re doing, Miriam.”
She smiled at Jack. Tutted. “When have I ever let you down?”
And then she stepped out and raised her hands.
“Don’t shoot!” she said.
The guards turned around. Four of them. Pointed their guns right down at her.
“Drop your weapon—”
“You don’t want to kill me, Robert. And I don’t want to kill you.” She walked up the stairs, slowly. Hayden stayed put. So too did everyone else. “We get along, you and me.”
The guard called Robert visibly blushed, clearing his throat. “Don’t—don’t make me shoot you.”
“I won’t. As long as you let us go back to our cells. Enough people have died here to prove your point. More than enough. Okay?”
Robert fidgeted. The rest of the guards just watched. “I—I need you to lower your weapon, Miri… number thirty-six.”
“And I will,” she said. “I’m doing that right this second, see. Now you lower yours too. All of you. Please. Nobody else has to die here. We get the message. This is over.”
She dropped the gun.
It fell down the staircase.
Landed right at the foot of it.
Just inches away from Hayden.
Hayden stared at it. He knew why it was there. What Miriam wanted him to do. She hadn’t told him, but that had to be the plan.
Take the gun.
Shoot the guards.
Get it done with and get out of here.
“The—the rest of you,” Robert said. “The rest of your people.”
“You shot my people, Robert. You shot so many people. Surely that’s not your order? Surely that’s not what ‘Salvation’ is all about?”
Robert cleared his throat again. “I… We need to—to maintain order.”
“And you can’t maintain order by shooting,” Miriam said, emphasis on the shooting.
She’d made her hint perfectly clear.
Hayden knew exactly what she wanted him to do. What they needed to do.
But he froze.
The flashbacks replayed in his eyes. The people he’d let down. The people he’d lost. All because he’d stepped up. All because he’d taken some form of leadership. All because of confidence he’d shown. Responsibility he’d shown.
And he saw a potential sequence of events playing out in front of him once more.
Grabbing the gun.
Shooting the guards.
Miriam dying in the crossfire.
He couldn’t do that. Couldn’t risk anyone else’s life. Couldn’t—
“Are you gonna grab that gun or what?” a woman to Hayden’s left whispered.
He snapped out of his thoughts. Looked at the gun. Heart pounding. Chest tightening.
He knew what he had to do.
He knew he had to get to it.
He just…
“Fuck it.”
The long-haired guy called Jack stepped out from behind Hayden.
Grabbed the gun.
Fired up at the guards.
Hayden didn’t see what happened. He heard a lot of gunfire. Heard a lot of shouts. Heard struggling, heard people in pain.
And then he saw blood splatter out of Jack’s chest.
Out of his knees.
Out of his neck.
Gunfire peppering down the staircase.
Knocking Jack to the floor as he kept on firing the emptied gun.
Then, silence.
Silence, but for the unending alarm.
The aftermath of the gunfire echoed around the prison. Hayden stared at Jack’s motionless body, his arms and legs shaking.
That could’ve been him.
That should’ve been him.
Stepping in to try and save others.
Putting his own life on the line to save many more lives.
He peeked out from under the staircase. He didn’t want to see what was at the top of the stairs. He didn’t want to see Miriam’s dead body. He didn’t want to see a guard there waiting for him.
But he had to.
He had to look.
He had to know.
He moved his head further around the staircase.
Miriam looked back down the stairs. Pale-faced. Staring at Jack.
Her face was covered in blood.
Around her, the guards were dead.
“Miriam?” Hayden muttered.
She saw him emerge from under the stairs. The rest of the prisoners followed Hayden. Some of them—the survivors—wandered over towards Miriam. An army. An army of prisoners ready to escape.
She blinked. Those blue, watery eyes of hers blinked. Like she was stuck in a daze. Couldn’t believe what’d just happened. What she’d just witnessed.
“Come on,” she said.
Hayden watched the group emerge from behind him. Saw a few harsh squints in his direction.
He knew why.
He’d not stepped up.
He’d let Jack step up, and he’d let Jack die.
He took a deep breath, the silhouettes of his mind returning to remind him of all the things he’d done, all he’d lost.
And then he walked out from under the staircase.
Followed Miriam’s group up the steps.
Away from the prison.
Away from everything.
T
he end
of the world and a cold Cobra beer still tasted just as delicious to Terrance Schumer as it always used to.
He leaned back in his reclining chair, eyes closed, just letting the taste of the beer invade his senses. He took deep breaths in, then exhaled, then took deep breaths in again. Meditation. A trick he’d learned years ago. Something to ease the tension whenever he needed to.
He needed to ease the tension a lot these days.
He let memories exit his mind. Let all thoughts and opinions slip away as he stared up into the darkness of his closed eyelids. He knew it was late afternoon on a… Tuesday? Damn. He was forgetting the days. Losing track of them.
But the days didn’t matter.
Not when he meditated.
All that mattered?
The now.
Peace.
As he swallowed the beer—not technically a meditation essential, but something that undoubtedly helped—he couldn’t help but think about just how similar his life was now to how it was before the country collapsed. Before the world collapsed. He still had his beer. He still had his meditation. He still had his peace.
The only thing he no longer had was his wife, Anantha.
His daughter, Dawn.
A lump swelled in his throat when Dawn entered his mind. Little Dawn. Mousy hair. Cute little button nose. Poor kid. This wasn’t a world for her. Wasn’t a world for anyone.
But he knew he was one of the lucky ones. Knew he was one of the fortunate survivors.
One of the future.
He had to play his part. He had to follow his duty.
The world required it of him.
Required it of—
A knock on the door snapped him out of his meditation. He opened his eyes. The bright spring sunlight shone in through the window. His room had a blue-ish tinge to it, as was always the case after meditation.
That knock.
That knock at the door again.
“Alright,” Terrance said, putting his Cobra to one side and climbing off his recliner. Who wanted him at this time anyway? He was specific when he told people not to interrupt him during the hours of four and five. He thought he’d made himself clear. Very clear.
He coughed, ignoring the dizziness as he walked. Unlocked the wooden door, turned the handle.
Luis stood outside. He was short. Ruffled dark hair. Beady brown eyes. Olive skin underneath his thick black beard.
He looked concerned.
“What’s wrong?”
Luis glanced away from Terrance. “I—I’m sorry to disturb you Mr Schumer but I—”
“Woah. Slow down. Slow it right down. What’s the problem?”
Luis closed his eyes. Took a calming breath. Opened them again and looked right at Terrance. “It’s the Crewe facility.”
“What about the Crewe facility?”
“We… We lost contact. Something happened there. Last thing I heard on the system was something about a breach. An escape.”
“How many?”
Luis’ face twitched. “I think… I think all of them. All the ones who survived. It’s weird. The people we had working there. Something happened. They just went… silent.”
Terrance’s stomach sank. He shook his head. Walked over to the large window at the far side of his room. “So we’ve got another Luton on our hands.”
“They might not know,” Luis said, walking after Terrance even though he hadn’t been invited in. Brave. Bold. “The citizens there. They might not know. About this place.”
Terrance stopped at the window. Looked out at the view. The beautiful view. “Oh, they’ll know.”
In the distance, from his high-rise apartment block, he saw the city beneath. Saw the streets. The houses. Families. Normal life. That’s what they’d strived for. All along, that’s what he’d been tasked with creating. Part of his position. His position as the Minister of New Britain. A responsibility he’d been handed years ago, when he just worked as an MP in government. He never thought he’d see the day where an emergency election was called in. Where he was forced to actually lead a group of people. A society. A country.
But he stood here. Looked out at the city. Looked out at his people.
It wasn’t a dream.
It was real.
It was happening.
“Got some more incoming, too. From the east.”
“And nobody thought to pick them up? You know as well as I do how bustling the city is right now.”
“It’s not as easy as just picking people up. People see this place and they aren’t as willing. We can take them to redistribution centres but it just… well, what happened at Crewe. What happened in Luton. Those things happen. And then when those people get out, they know about this place. People living here, they let the migrants in. Let them share their food. Share their warmth. Sorry, but I think… I think this place is getting unsustainable.”
Unsustainable.
The word made Terrance’s face twitch.
He turned away from the window. Looked right back at Luis. “You say there’s another group incoming. How many?”
Luis puffed out his lips. “Five hundred to a thousand.”
Terrance shook his head. “Five-hundred to…”
“We can always try the alternative method. The backup plan. You know.”
Terrance thought about Luis’ words. He didn’t like considering the backup plan. It wasn’t ideal. It was reckless. And it ran a very real risk of backfiring on his entire leadership. A risk he wasn’t sure he was willing to take.
But a risk he’d have to contemplate. Eventually.
He looked back at the window. Looked out at his beautiful world.
“We allow the migrants inside. Monitor the situation. For now.”
Terrance heard Luis’ voice crackle like he was going to say something else.
And then he sighed. Nodded. “Very well, Mr Schumer.”
He walked away from the window. Left Terrance to look outside.
“I do envy your view sometimes, sir.”
Terrance smiled. “I’m a lucky man.”
“We’re all lucky men, I guess.”
“Yes. Yes, we are.”
Luis walked out of Terrance’s room. Closed the door behind him.
Terrance thought about returning to his meditation. Thought about picking it up again, right here, right now.
Instead, he looked out at the city.
Looked out at the streets.
Looked out at the barbed fences.
Looked out at the towering wall.
The border between the old world and the new world.
The border the migrants were approaching in their droves.
The border he had to control.
Somehow.
“
W
e’re
lucky we only lost one. Coulda been a lot worse.”
Hayden walked alongside Miriam. The sun was low, the day merging into night. Still pretty warm, though. Nice weather recently. A day his parents would’ve called an “early bloomer”. Summer rearing its head weeks before its true emergence.
Hayden had always liked summer. Just unfortunate he’d never
really
taken the time to enjoy it in his adult life, choosing booze, pizza, video games and a darkened bedroom as much more suitable company.
He looked at the fields ahead. The Salvation prison was way behind. They’d sprinted out of the gates and found their way out of the place easily. Much easier than he’d expected. Didn’t know why. There was something wrong with the place; he knew that much. Something quiet about the place on their way out. Something… off.
The ease the group of twenty-something found getting away from the prison discomforted Hayden. Because no place was quite so easy to flee without a secret.
“Not sure your people agree all that much.”
Miriam looked over her shoulder. Looked back at the prisoners, following. “Yeah, well. They’re afraid. It’s new territory for them out here. And don’t call them ‘my people’. Please.”
“You’re a leader. They follow you.”
“None of us are leaders,” Miriam said. “We’re just doing our best to get by.”
Hayden glanced back at the following crowd. There were old men. Children. Babies. Weak people. People that didn’t seem cut out for this world. “What happens now?”
“What happens now? We walk to the wall. Get to the other side.”
“And if you don’t like what’s on the other side?”
Miriam shook her head. “Whatever’s on the other side has to be better than what’s on this side.”
Hayden thought back to Riversford as he’d first discovered it. “That’s not always true.”
They walked further. No sign of people. No sign of zombies. The evening chill growing with every step.
“So what’s your plan?” Miriam asked.
“My plan?” The question threw Hayden. It wasn’t one he was expecting, wasn’t one he was prepared for.
Miriam gazed at Hayden with focus. “You didn’t seem all that keen on what’s on the other side of the wall before you got out the prison.”
Hayden broke his stare away from Miriam’s blue eyes. “Yeah, well. Figured I’d just…”
A flashback.
To the boy.
The boy.
He thought he saw him in the distance. In the middle of the field.
He thought he saw him with the face of Clarice.
Clarice.
“You okay?”
Miriam’s voice snapped Hayden out of his trance. He cleared his throat. Nodded. Heart racing. Chest tightening. “Just… I think I’ll go my own way.”
Miriam groaned theatrically. “Just go your own way? Your own way to where?”
“To anywhere. The world’s our oyster these days. Might as well make the most of it.”
“So you’ve got a death wish then.”
“I just…” He stopped. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to open up to Miriam right now. It scared him. The thought of opening up to anyone. “I think it’s probably for the best you and your group go your way, and I go mine.”
“Because…”
“Because we’re different. We’ve been through different things. Done different things.”
Miriam’s eyes narrowed. In an instant, Hayden swore he saw the colour drain from her cheeks. “How do you know what I’ve done? What any of us have done?”
It was a fair question. Who was he to judge? Who was he to jump to conclusions?
As he looked into Miriam’s sparkling eyes, her greasy hair hanging long down her back, he tried to picture what she’d been through. What she’d lost. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. She’d lost. Everyone had lost. Different stories. Different circumstances, perhaps. But the same result. The same end-game. Always the same.
Death.
An attempt to overcome death.
Maybe even an attempt to be confident in this world. An attempt to lead.
But ultimately, it wasn’t the heroes or the leaders that won. It wasn’t the fighters who survived.
It was the people who drifted into the background.
The people who became invisible.
They survived.
They walked further, through longer grass. Passed abandoned farms. Empty cars. The night drew in. They’d need to find somewhere to rest soon. Somewhere to stay.
“You not a bit curious?”
“About?”
“The wall. What’s on the other side of it.”
Hayden thought about it. He was. Of course he was. “I just don’t know whether it’s for me right now.”
“Because you’re scared of screwing someone over again?”
Hayden looked back at Miriam. His cheeks flared up. What was she saying? How did she…
“Hold up,” Miriam said. She walked back towards the group. Only then did Hayden notice the old man spluttering, coughing. When he turned, he noticed the man spewing up blood. Shaking. Really struggling.
“Gonna need to stop soon,” Miriam called. “Harold can’t take much more walking. See those cattle stables up ahead? That’s where we stay. Okay. Let’s get moving.”
Hayden walked with the group, Harold continuing to splutter. When they reached the stables, it was dark. He kept his guard up when he arrived because he noticed the smell of rot, the buzzing of flies.
“Grim,” Miriam said. The smell and the flies swarmed the dead cows lying in the first few enclosures. But there was no movement. No sign of life. Or death. That was a relief.
The group settled into an enclosure each. And as Hayden stood by the door, he heard laughter. He heard bedtime stories being muttered from parents to children. He heard tears. Yawns. He heard a kind of normality. A fighting against the odds.
He heard togetherness.
But it was all through a lens. Through a dirty lens that he wasn’t sure he’d ever clean.
No. He
knew
he’d never clean.
“You staying for the night at least?” Miriam asked.
Hayden jumped. She’d appeared out of nowhere. Leaned on the opposite side of the opening, looked out at her people.
“Suppose I could do with a nap,” Hayden said.
“It’s normal to be scared,” Miriam said. “We’re all scared. But you can’t let what’s happened change you going forward. We’ve all done shitty things. We’ve all lost some things. But it’s how we react to it. How we fight. That’s what keeps us going. That’s what keeps us important.”
Hayden nodded. Miriam’s words bounced around Hayden’s head, abstract concepts, ideas that were difficult to tie down. “It must be nice. Having your view of the world.”
Miriam smiled. “And it must be fucking grim having your view of the world. Gimme a sec. Gotta use the khazi. Wherever that may be.”
She punched Hayden on his left arm. He winced. But it felt kind of strange. Kind of… nice.
He watched Miriam walk towards the other side of the cattle barn. Towards the sheltered area. And he thought about what she said. About it being normal to be scared. About staying strong in the face of… well, in the face of everything. About the importance of people. Surviving. Together.
He waited until she disappeared.
A painful lump swelled in his throat.
He took one final look at the cattle barn full of people.
Then, he turned away and disappeared into the night.