Everything moved so quickly it didn’t seem like it was real. Hayden hadn’t asked to be in this place. He’d tried to get the hell away from Thomas’ group when they got to Danny’s with their truck. Fuck. He should never have gone back to Danny’s. Should’ve stayed well away. Away from the past. Away from everyone. Because digging up demons just created new ones.

  He saw that now. Saw it clearly.

  Pity it was already too late.

  “I’m gonna count to five. If you haven’t given me that weapon of yours, I’ll shoot you. We can say it’s self-defence. Nobody’ll bat an eyelid. One.”

  “I swear, I took it because—”

  “Two.”

  Hayden’s heart raced.

  “Three.”

  He didn’t have a choice. He didn’t have a fucking choice.

  “Four.”

  “Okay! Okay.” Hayden lifted the sharpened piece of tile from his pocket. He lifted his hand. The object felt alien between his fingers.

  Tim nodded. “Now slide it across the floor.”

  Hayden gulped. “I’m telling you, this isn’t what it—”

  “Slide it across the fucking floor!”

  Tim’s booming voice rattled Hayden’s body.

  He had no choice.

  He lowered down. Slid the tile across the floor. And as it drifted away, he saw all hope disappearing. All hope of ever getting out of this place. All hope of surviving. Hell. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Miriam had set him up for whatever reason, so there obviously was no North-South divide. It was all bullshit.

  Still a world of nothing.

  A world of imprisonment, whether you were outside or in.

  No point fighting. Not anymore.

  He looked up at Tim. His gun was lowered now. Hayden saw him smiling as he lifted the tile.

  “Good,” Tim said.

  He raised his gun again.

  Pointed it at Hayden.

  “We can still call it self-defence.”

  Hayden squeezed his eyes shut.

  Waited for the bullet to split his skull.

  It didn’t.

  He heard a thud. Heard some struggling.

  A thud? Why would there be a thud? What was the noise?

  He opened his eyes.

  Peeked at where Tim stood.

  Tim was on his knees.

  Blood rolled down his face from a crack in his skull.

  He fell face flat in a pool of his own blood.

  Hayden stared at Tim. Mouth open. Unable to speak.

  “Sorry how that had to play out,” someone said.

  Hayden glanced over the top of Tim’s fallen body. He’d been so stunned that he didn’t even clock anyone else was here with them.

  He saw a woman. Chocolate brown hair. Short, probably little over five foot. Bright blue eyes. Plump lips.

  She was holding a fire axe.

  “Pleasure to meet you, ‘Hayden’,” she said. “Now come on. I don’t have long.”

  She ran past Hayden in the opposite direction to the canteen. Disappeared into one of the old offices before Hayden could even ask who she was.

  But he knew who she was.

  He recognised her voice clearly.

  Miriam.

  Hayden followed her through into the old office. Saw her rushing around the place, kicking up dust with every step.

  “Must be around here somewhere,” she said.

  “What… How did you—”

  “Sorry you had to do that. Again. Really. I knew Tim was coming. Needed to get him out the way fast somehow. That’ll teach him to lean back against the cell doors with his master key handy. Well, it won’t. But it’s a shame. He was a decent guy. I really believe that. Shit. It’s here.”

  She reached a panel on the wall. Flipped it open, smile on her face.

  “You killed him,” Hayden said.

  Miriam turned. Pinched expression on her face. “Seriously. Don’t give me that crap. Like you’ve never killed anyone to make it this far. Anyway, go back to your cell if it’s what you really want. You’ve played your part. Nobody’ll be bothered about you when me and my people disappear. Seriously.”

  Hayden watched Miriam turn the key. “The… the wall. In the south. Is that…”

  “Real? Course it’s real. Everything I told you is real. Except for your little distraction mission. But that kind of worked out for the best in the end, right?”

  “Depends what you mean by ‘best’.”

  Miriam walked away from the panel on the wall. Outside the cells, Hayden heard the collective echo of metal rattling open.

  “Look,” Miriam said, squaring up to Hayden, as well as a five-foot woman could square up to anyone. “If you aren’t sure about following me, don’t follow me. If you really are as fucking cynical as I think you are, stay here. Rot in here. You’ll probably be a hell of a lot safer.”

  She walked past Hayden. Towards the corridor. Crouched down and took Tim’s gun from his fingers, which still looked tense.

  “What if… what if I join you?”

  Miriam turned. Looked back at Hayden. Behind the canteen door, he could hear cries and shouts. Mostly shouts of joy. Footsteps clanging against the corridors, against the metal staircase. “I’d appreciate a hand, in all truth. We could use all the help we can get. But if you aren’t up for it… you know what you have to do.”

  Hayden listened to the footsteps. Listened to the people escaping their cells. He knew he didn’t have long to make a decision. He knew he didn’t have long to make his choice.

  Stay in here. Be safe. Be alone.

  Or leave this place.

  Get out.

  Be free again.

  And what Miriam said. About the wall in the south…

  No.

  That was a pipe dream.

  The priority was getting out of this place.

  “Come on,” Miriam said. “You’re coming out this door one way or—”

  An alarm sounded from above.

  “Everyone on the ground this fucking second!”

  Gunfire rattled through the prison.

  Hayden thought it was just for show until he saw the blood.

  The guards stepped into the prison from upstairs. Firing bullets into everyone still standing. Putting them down like this was all just some kind of game. Painting the walls red.

  “Looks like the guards have made your choice for you, Hayden,” Miriam said. “Any good with a fire axe?”

  She handed the axe to him.

  He looked down at it. Looked at her. A person. A person showing trust in him. Showing confidence in him.

  He didn’t like it.

  But he didn’t have a choice.

  So he took the axe.

  The alarm rattling above.

  The gunshots peppering through the prison.

  Miriam smiled. “Come on. Better get escaping this place.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “On 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.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The 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.”

 

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