Into the Night

I can’t remember the last time I was this bored, this restless.

Usually, I chain smoke when I’m bored. I’d smoke, then tap for a bit, then light up again within five minutes. But the sensible part of my brain is still reminding me that there is a limited supply of cigarettes. I can’t even eat out of boredom, because there’s a limited amount of food as well.

I’m tempted to suggest an excursion outside – rally the men around, check it out, come back for the women and kids. But part of me knows the idea would be shot down, criticised because we don’t know what is outside.

My mind flashes to horror movies; maybe there’s zombies out there? Maybe we’re the last men on earth? Sorry, last people.

My mind goes off on its own scenario, in which we are the last people. We’d need to repopulate, of course. Already there’s two women paired off, and the last single girl is Madison, whose cousin is Charlie, so he’s out of the equation.

Which leaves me and Chuck.

Who would she chose?

Chuck, I think, would make the better choice; both physically and mentally. He’s strong, clever and brave. This is a guy who’d served in the Army. If I had to chose a father for my kids, from a woman’s instincts and perspective, I’d chose Chuck.

What about me though?

A cruel part of my brain repeated my thought sarcastically; after all, what had I done? Chuck had spent years of his life in the Army, fighting for this country. What had I done? I had a degree, sure, and a 2.1 marked me as one of the best. But that meant jack shit. It meant I had academic skills, not the kind of skills you’d need to survive in whatever world we were going to face when we got outside.

An image came into my head of Chuck, and a toned down Madison. In her arms was a baby, a young boy, with the same coopery coloured hair as Chuck.

Hey, I could teach the kid. I could have a part in his life...

“You alright there mate?”

“Huh?” I blinked a few times to see Chuck staring at me, looking more than slightly worried. “Fine.” I muttered, shaking my head and forcing myself to grin. His hand went to his hair, tangled itself in it. He pulled it away.

“I need a shower.” He frowned, and suddenly Charlie was standing just behind him, pointing at a door behind the shelves.

“Through there. Just next to the toilets.”

“Cheers.” Chuck smiled at him.

“Gel, shampoo and towels on the bottom shelf.” Charlie carried on, rolling his shoulders as he did so. Chuck moved away, and Charlie took his now vacant seat. “You alright?” He asked me. “You seemed a bit out of it just then.”

“Just thinking.” I replied, lifting one of my shoulders up and letting it drop almost straight away. “What about you? How are you and Madison coping?”

“She’s fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Well, seems to be anyway. She’s strong, my cousin. Always has been.”

“What about you though?”

“I’m scared.” He admitted, though his face remained still. “Terrified, really. Can’t show it in front of the kids though, can we? I mean, I’ve never even seen combat and then I was just thrown into making sure people got in here alright, making sure people got out alright. I’m not used to anything yet.”

“Like being thrown in at the deep end, I guess.” I glanced sideways at him, to see him nod slowly.

“Yeah. Do you think anything has happened?”

“It must have.” I told him honestly. “I mean, for the radio to not be working....”

“Yeah.” He clasped his hands together, holding them between his knees. “You’re right.”

“We’ll be fine though.” I laid a hand on his shoulder, feeling that I, in some way, needed to reassure him. “We have enough food to last us. We’re safe.”

“But don’t know if anyone else is.” He lifted his eyes to mine. “Everything could be destroyed.”

“Or we could leave and find nothing has changed. We could stagger out and realise we made fools of ourselves.”

I was happy to see him laugh at the idea. “Could do. But that wouldn’t explain the radio.”

“No.” I took my hand away. “It wouldn’t.”

“What are we going to do?”

Chloe’s eyes were fixed on me as I paced up and down, between the barrels of beer and bottles of wine. We’d taken refuge in the cellar of a pub, and once we’d got in here both of us found we could breathe much more easily. I stopped my pacing, turning to look at Chloe who stared at me with those big eyes, searching my face for some kind of plan or meaning or hope.

She didn’t find it there, and her eyes dropped, focusing instead on the stone floor.

“Why don’t you think of something?” I cried, maybe a bit too bitterly. She glanced upwards, struggling to contain the tears in her eyes.

“I’m useless, you know that.”

I let out a sigh, moved swiftly towards her and knelt down, placing my hands on her knees. “No you’re not Chloe. We need to stick together, don’t we? Come up with a plan.”

“We need help.” Her voice was quiet, just above the sound of a whimper. Automatically I reached upwards and brushed her hair backwards.

“To find help we’re going to need each other. How’s your leg?”

“Painful.” She gave me a sad, lopsided grin.

“Medical supplies would be useful then, huh?” I gave her a bright smile, standing up and looking around. An idea was forming in my head, but I couldn’t see any material I could use. “Chloe, I’m going to go back to my flat. Get some stuff and then I’ll be back, alright?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “You will be back though, right?”

“Of course.” I took her hand, squeezed it. “Promise. I won’t be long.”

“Ok.”

I left the cellar, waiting until I got to the top of the stairs to pull my t-shirt up, using the collar to cover my nose and mouth.

Around me, everyone was stretched out, either asleep or half-asleep or daydreaming. I continued to read the novel, ignoring the sound of Charlie’s light snores and Tabby’s quiet weeping, coupled with Johnny’s soothing words of comfort. My eyes drifted, of their own accord, towards the tunnel. I wanted to get out of here, I wanted to see what it was like outside. I wanted to know; this place was like a bubble of ignorance, and something inside me told me that it wouldn’t be long before curiosity overwhelmed me. With or without the others, I’d go outside. I’d explore and look around and report back. If I survived. After all, curiosity killed the cat, so god knows what it’d do to me.

He struggled across the field, determined to find help or shelter or something. Every inch of his body felt like it was on fire, but with no sight he couldn’t tell what damage had been done. It felt as if every inch of skin had been rubbed raw with a flannel. Like when he was a young lad, and his mother had scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed to get the dirt off his face. Every moment she had scolded him, telling him it was his own fault as he wept and wailed because of the pain. His father was nowhere to be seen, and a few days later, when he was still in pain and his face still red raw, she had apologised. She had held him close and cried and begged him to never leave her as his father had done. He hadn’t, either. He’d been there until her death.

Was he close to death now?

Maybe, just maybe, he’d be with his mum again. If what she had told him as a kid was true, then he’d go to heaven. He’d see her and granny and granddad. Not his father though; she’d always told him his father would go to hell when he died.

Where was he?

He crashed into something, using his hands to feel what it was. Rough bark under his fingertips – he was at a tree. He carried on walking, until his foot connected with something metal on the ground. Using his hands again, something he’d become quite accustomed to since the blinding white light had killed his eyesight, he realised it was a hatch of some sort.

Would people be down there?

He clenched his hands into fists, started to bang and pound on the door, crying out for help as he did so.