32 Days Later

I’m sorry I can’t be more than this, David.

Ivy was sorry for a lot of things. She wanted to be strong for David because she knew he needed it – when they had met, he had been the emotional wreck and she had been the strong one. She had had a home and he had aimlessly been walking around, and even if they both probably had been on the verge of breaking apart, at least she had been the strongest. She had been able to keep herself closed from all those things she didn’t want to think about.
But things had changed. Ever since that night in the park and the day that followed it, she had found it hard to keep the thoughts away.

It was hard to pretend to be normal when everything around you was different – what they had done was to try and create some kind of normality in a destroyed world, and it had worked.
Ivy felt empty, a creeping feeling that things were never going to change – but maybe pretending that things at least were partly all right was the only thing they could do.

-

They found Henry Timmons’ house when they were out on the vespa (nicknamed “Hugo” by Ivy) one night, thinking that the cold wind against their faces might clear their minds. David was worried about Ivy. She hadn’t been herself lately, or at least not the self that David had gotten to know during the past month. She still smiled, but she just seemed a bit… off. He wondered if going back to her house had only created more chaos, instead of peace.

The flicker of a flashlight in one of the windows to the right made him brake so hard that Ivy let out a surprised yelp, as she slammed her helmet-clad forehead into him and accusingly scolded:

“What the hell was that for?!”, sounding more scared than annoyed. David turned the vespa around and drove back to where he thought he had seen the light, and stopped.

“I thought I saw something,” he said, and scanned the windows of the old house for any movement inside. They hadn’t been in this part of London before, mainly because it mostly consisted of residential buildings.

“What? You did?” Ivy asked, surprised. “What was it?”

“It looked like a… flash, I’m not really sure,” David confessed, still scanning the house for signs of living things.

“You think we should check it out?” Ivy asked, and was met by a trademark grin.

“Of course!”

He parked Hugo the vespa by the white picket fence that circled the whole house. The house itself was old and run-down, and there was just as little sound of life as in any of the other houses around here. Still, David was quite sure he’d seen something.
They carefully walked up the stone path that led to the front door, as if on some secret mission.

“So what do we do now?” Ivy asked when they reached door, and David thought for a few seconds before pressing the door bell. Ivy gave him a questioning look, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to play James Bond some more?” David asked, smirking. Ivy playfully slapped his arm and smiled.

“I just thought there was something more to the sneaking concept,” she said. “I don’t think there’s anyone here, David,” she then said, looking at the door in front of them.

David frowned.
“There has to be,” he said. “I’m sure I saw… Do you smell gasoline?”

Just then, there was a ‘click’ and the door swung open.

The same disgusting smell as in Ivy’s apartment hit them mixed with the sharp smell of gasoline. Before them stood a man holding a rifle.

“Keep away,” he said in a deep voice, his red-rimmed feverish eyes shifting between the both of them in a panicky manner. “I know what you are. I’m the only one left. You’re here to kill me,” he continued, determination and panic making him grip the rifle tighter.

By reflex, David grabbed a hold of Ivy’s arm and put her behind his back, as she seemed too shocked to do anything of her own accord.
So they weren’t alone. But David didn’t feel any elation from this fact, only a slight sense of panic as he watched the man in front of him threaten to kill them.

He seemed to be in his late thirties, with a stocky but muscular build. Brown hair, much like David’s own, and a t-shirt and jeans that didn’t look like they had been washed in ages. Or in 54 days.

“Who are you?” David dared to ask, as Ivy’s hand slipped into his. The man was still aiming at them, but said:

“Henry. Henry Timmons. Now get out of here.” After a moment, he added: “Please.”

What were you supposed to do in this situation? If they were the only three people left in England, David really didn’t want to leave this man behind.

“Why do you want us to leave, Henry?” David asked carefully, as he felt Ivy’s small body creep closer to his. She was scared.

He was scared of losing her, or leaving her on her own. Dying didn’t seem like such a bad thing these days.

Henry glared at him.

“’Cause you’re infected, o’ course. Everyone out there is. But I’m not.”

“But we’re not dead,” David said, still looking Henry in the eye. “How could we be infected when we’re not dead?”

“Julie didn’t die,” Henry said, and David realised he must be talking about his wife or daughter judging by the gentle tone his voice changed into. “Didn’t die for days, that one. In the end I had to do it myself.”

A cold hand took a hold of his heart, and David felt Ivy grip his hand tighter.

“Who was Julie?” David asked even though he could feel by the tugging of Ivy’s hand that she didn’t want him to ask more, but he felt that he had to. What if this Henry had more people in there?

“My baby daughter,” Henry said quietly, for a moment forgetting about the rifle and letting his tight grip loosen a little. He quickly recovered though, and was aiming straight at David’s head again. “But I’m not gonna let you touch her! She was beautiful, she was. But infected. Just like you.” Henry closed his eyes for a second, sighing. “She didn’t know that she was infected. She was only three, I had to do it!” he said, exasperated.

In his mind, David suddenly saw Sally. As opposed to Henry, he hadn’t been willing to accept the fact that she really had been infected – even as she died, he sat with her until Abby had to slap him in the face to get his attention.

His baby daughter.

Why couldn’t she have been the immune one?

“Is there anyone else in there, Henry? Anyone else like Julie?”

He had to. Ivy seemed to understand his train of thoughts and didn’t say anything. He fought the urge to smile with ease, but he and Ivy were so much alike sometimes.

Later, they would come to the conclusion that it had been Henry’s plan all along to kill himself and that their arrival at his house was nothing but a coincidence.

They never found out if there were more people inside. Henry had drenched the entire house in gasoline, and as he held the rifle with one hand, he had searched through his left pocket, pulled out a lighter and lit it. And had let it fall to the floor, still burning.

It was Ivy who pulled David out of there, as he had been too busy trying to figure out a way to get through to Henry. Abby used to call him “her little psychologist” for always trying to figure people out.
And it nearly got the both of them killed. The heat from the fire was intense even as they stumbled across the stone path back to the road, and the whole house was on fire in a matter of minutes.
Ivy swore. He had never heard her do that before.

He put his arm around her and she calmed down as he hugged her close, letting a string of inaudible words fall from her lips.

“Oh God,” she breathed after a while, still pressed to him. “Oh my God. His daughter.”

“I know,” David said, stroking her hair as if she had just had a bad dream. “I know.”

Five words were the only thing that flashed through David's mind for a second.

That could have been me.

As they turned away from the remains of the house a while later and were getting on Hugo the vespa again, Ivy looked up at David. He had never seen her like this before – the serene determination in her eyes even though they were still welling up with tears.

“If I end up like that,” she said, not looking at the house, “you have to kill me. Promise me you will.”

He clasped her right hand with his, looking into her sage-green eyes.

“You won’t end up like that, Ivy. We’ll get through this.”

Even to him, the words seemed empty. Get through what? Extinction?
His mind burned with the realisation that Ivy didn’t believe him. And that he didn’t even believe it himself anymore.