After the Fall- The Complete series Box Set Page 3

“What?” Donny said.

  “You,” Theresa said. “You’re full of surprises.”

  “I try not to be,” Donny said.

  Theresa rolled her eyes.

  “You pretend to be the bad boy of the commune,” she said.

  “Do you think I’m a bad boy?” Donny said.

  “Oh, I know you are,” Theresa said. “But not in the way you think. Anything you did in the past when the virus came, it’s okay, Donny. Really.”

  “Everything’s okay when you don’t know what the thing is,” Donny said, turning to look out over the desert again.

  “You’re right,” Theresa said. “But moping around with a dark cloud over your face for the rest of your life isn’t good for you either. I’ll tell you what. I’ll tell you what I did to survive if you tell me what you did.”

  “I thought you were one of the lucky ones?” Donny said.

  “I may have stretched the truth a little,” Theresa said. “But the offer stands. Do we have a deal?”

  Donny pursed his lips in thought, then dismissed his concern with a shrug.

  “Sure,” he said. “You go first.”

  “As the therapist, I must insist you go first,” Theresa said.

  “Then no deal,” Donny said, turning back to the large orb of the moon.

  “Spoilsport,” Theresa said. “Fine. I’ll go first. I was at a conference in San Francisco. I was there with colleagues. There came this tremendous scream from down the corridor. It sounded like someone was being murdered. A dozen people got out of their chairs to see what was going on. The screams got louder as they came into the main reception hall. Someone opened the doors to see what was going on. They jumped on him, tearing him to pieces with their hands like claws. We had no idea what was wrong with the people at the time.

  “There was a mad rush for the doors. We got outside, only to find the whole city was the same. No one knew what was going on, or where to go or what to do. I ran to my car in the parking lot. I hit the gas and raced to get away as fast as I could. People waved at me to stop, for me to let them in. I didn’t stop. The roads were getting busy, blocked by others doing what I was doing. I mounted the curb and hit the horn, but didn’t slow down. I was so terrified, I ploughed right through them. I still remember the faces of the ones I’m sure weren’t infected yet. I never even stopped to check they were okay.”

  She put her face in her hands and wiped her eyes.

  “Now,” she said, gathering herself, “are you going to share?”

  Donny thought for a moment before looking at Theresa. He looked away.

  “No,” he said.

  “What?” Theresa said. “You promised—”

  “I promised I would tell you what I did if you told me what you did,” Donny said.

  “That’s what I just did,” Theresa said.

  “No,” Donny said. “What you just said was a lie.”

  “I didn’t lie,” Theresa said.

  “I can always tell when you’re faking,” Donny said.

  Theresa’s mouth hung open in shock. Then the corners of her mouth turned up, spreading into a cheeky smile. Her eyes twinkled and she arched an eyebrow.

  “You couldn’t tell the other night,” she said.

  “That’s because you weren’t faking,” Donny said.

  “Want to bet?” Theresa said.

  They kissed. Wet, hot, sloppy, and passionate.

  “My brother’s got a lot to learn,” Donny said.

  Theresa batted her lashes and raised an eyebrow.

  “So have you,” she said. “My place, ten minutes.”

  She didn’t need to check he would follow her. She could have mentioned Rages were going to be involved and he would still have turned up. Men could be so easy to manipulate.

  Except. . . Donny had wanted to be manipulated. She stumbled a step as she realized perhaps she was the one on the receiving end. She shrugged. What did it matter, so long as she was getting what she wanted?

  6.

  JAMIE FELT like he was floating on the moon, his feet three feet off the ground. He’d had a wonderful making out session with the equally wonderful Nester. He’d fondled her in ways he had only dreamed of. He was still grinning ear to ear by the time he got home.

  “You’re in a good mood,” his father Donald said.

  He sat at their large dining room table, serving as his desk. He was poring over various reports and documents.

  “I had a nice evening,” Jamie said.

  “That’s good,” Donald said. “After working hard all day it’s good to let your hair down.” He glanced at his mound of paperwork and shuddered. “Good for some of us, at least. Come sit down.”

  He tapped the chair beside him. Jamie eyed it warily. It was the Let’s Discuss Our Problems Chair. He’d spent countless hours in that seat, listening and learning. Usually, it was after he’d done something wrong.

  “Not now, Dad,” Jamie said. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

  Donald picked up a pile of papers and shuffled them. He didn’t say another word. He might as well have shouted. You’re not going anywhere until we have our little chat. Jamie rolled his eyes, sighed, and took the chair.

  “I know it wasn’t easy for you today,” Donald said. “You were close to Angie.”

  “A lot of people were close to her,” Jamie said.

  “You and your friends especially,” Donald said. “I’m glad you hung out with your elders while you had the chance.”

  “She was a nice person,” Jamie said.

  He blinked, then turned his face away from his father. Was. Angie had already been relegated to the past tense. He’d already accepted she was never coming back.

  “Angie’s fate is one we will all share, if we’re lucky enough to live that long,” Donald said.

  Jamie’s disgust bubbled beneath the surface. He took calming breaths to keep it under control. He didn’t trust himself to speak yet. He would have barked the words out, sounding harsher than he’d intended.

  “People like Angie are very lucky,” Donald said. “The world is no longer the kind of place where we have ample resources to take care of the elderly.”

  “She wasn’t elderly,” Jamie said through gritted teeth.

  “She had arthritis,” Donald said. “And other medical conditions.”

  Jamie’s anger dissipated, forming a mist that left a trail of sadness in its wake.

  “She shouldn’t have died like that,” he said.

  Donald searched his youngest son’s face. He found something there that broke his resolve.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I wish we didn’t have to do live like this. That we produced enough to support every member of our community, no matter their ailments. But we don’t live in that world. Not anymore. Angie left because she knew she had to. For the rest of us.”

  “Rages lose control of themselves,” Jamie said. “They don’t care about each other. They’ll eat each other if they’re hungry enough. I don’t understand how they’re any different to us. You always said we should try to create something new, something immortal, something better than ourselves. This doesn’t fit with that.”

  “We’re not Rages,” Donald said. “We can think about what we’re doing.”

  “That makes it even worse,” Jamie said.

  “It makes it harder, I agree,” Donald said, nodding his head. “But it doesn’t make it worse.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we know what we would prefer to do if the situation was different,” Donald said. “What we would do if the world was just a little bit better. The Rages will never change. They’re incapable of it.”

  Jamie smacked his fist on the table. The mismatched cutlery on Donald’s empty dinner plate rattled.

  “Then why don’t we put a bullet in their head and be done with it?” he said.

  Donald took a moment for Jamie to calm down before he put his own hand on Jamie’s. It was big, and swallowed his son’s. It was a reminder to
Jamie that his father was the community leader. He was older and in charge. They’d had problems and issues before and he’d always managed to steer them through it. Their commune had succeeded where many others had failed. Surely that had to count for something?

  “That would be best for us, in a way,” Donald said. “There’ll be no way for them to come back at us if they get infected with Rage. But we don’t do that. Do you know why we don’t do that? Because we’re not animals. Could we do it if they asked us to? Yes. They only need ask. But they don’t. They never do. Do you know why? Because they hope. They hope they’ll head into the desert and something miraculous might happen. They’ll come back and everything will be fine. But it doesn’t work that way. It never has and it never will. Except in your storybooks.”

  Donald put his giant sausage-sized finger under Jamie’s chin and turned his face toward him. Jamie’s eyes were red and swollen like thunder clouds. Ready for the downpour. Donald saw through those tears to the real issue. The issue they were still learning to deal with even after all these years.

  “We can’t hold onto people forever,” he said. “As much as we’d like to. We can’t. It’s the way it is.”

  The conversation had shifted topic, from Angie to Jamie’s mother. She’d been the last person who’d left the commune. It’d been difficult on them all. A rift had formed between them that they couldn’t cross.

  Jamie’s mother had been the glue that held them together. And then she’d gotten sick and they didn’t have the food or medicine to take care of her. They’d been willing to give up their share of food—meagre portions even at the best of times—but their mother wouldn’t allow it.

  She too had carried hope in her heart that she might get better, that the malignancy would subside. And perhaps, somewhere out in the world, she did manage to find a cure. And one day she would come back to them. It was the way Jamie’s dream ended every night. He was always sad when he awoke to discover the house was still bereft of her.

  “When can we stop sending people out there to die?” Jamie said.

  “We can’t,” Donald said. “Not until the commune is large enough to support them. But we’re nowhere near close enough yet. Sometimes we have to choose between what we want to do and what we need to do. I hope one day you’ll understand that.”

  Outside, a shout rang up. It was followed by another voice, and then a third.

  Donald got to his feet and moved to the window. Someone flashed past the window at full sprint and stopped at the door. A frantic knock. Donald opened the door. A dishevelled man about Donny’s age stood there, slightly out of breath. His name was Eugene.

  “What is it?” Donald said.

  “It’s Bernard,” Eugene said. “He’s gone.”

  “What do you mean he’s gone?” Donald said. “I spoke to him not twenty minutes ago.”

  “He left through the front gate and headed into the desert,” Eugene said. “Do you want to send a rescue party after him?”

  Donald thought for a moment, considering.

  “No,” he finally said. “He made his decision. I won’t risk innocent lives to chase after someone who chose to go out there alone.”

  Eugene nodded, though he appeared to share Jamie’s reticence.

  “There’s another issue,” he said. “When he opened the gate door, he left it open.”

  Donald snapped to attention.

  “What?” he said. “How long was it open for?”

  “We don’t know,” Eugene said. “Five minutes. Ten. It’s hard to tell.”

  “Wake everyone up,” Donald said. “And lock the gates. No one goes in or out until we search every inch of the commune.”

  Donald stepped outside and reached for the door handle. He paused, spotting Jamie standing there. All this could have been avoided if only he’d listened to the voice in the back of his mind. His conscience. It was the same voice that’d seized Jamie. His sense of humanity. He shut the door behind him.

  7.

  “WHERE DO you think he went?” Fatty said, struggling to keep up.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Jamie said, walking as fast as he could in an effort to rush without appearing to do so. “He went to find Angie. He’s in the desert somewhere.”

  “You’re not honestly suggesting going out there by yourself?” Fatty said.

  “Of course not,” Jamie said, taking another corner. He paused to let a pair of men pass, continuing their sweep of the area. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Me?” Fatty said. “Why? What have I done wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Jamie said, perplexed.

  “Then why do I have to go?” Fatty said.

  “Because it’s the right thing to do,” Jamie said. “We’re going to bring Bernard back and help him recover from losing Angie.”

  “I’m not sure about this,” Fatty said.

  “You’re never sure about anything,” Jamie said.

  He bumped into someone, knocking him to the ground. Angry, he glared up at his accidental assailant. His expression relaxed.

  “Nester,” he said, accepting her hand to haul him up onto his feet. “What are you doing out?”

  “Coming to find you,” Nester said. “Did you hear what happened?”

  “Yeah,” Jamie said. “We’re heading out to find him now.”

  “Heading out?” Nester said. “Are you sure that’s a wise idea?”

  Fatty grinned, grateful not to be the only one with concerns.

  “We should let someone know we’re going,” Nester said.

  Fatty’s expression faltered. Maybe he was the only one with real concerns after all.

  “I can stay,” he said. “Tell the others you left to find Bernard after they realize you’re not here.”

  “Better for more of us to go out,” Jamie said. “In case we run into Rages.”

  Fatty’s horror was evident by the caricature mask he wore.

  “There’s a slight snag to your plan,” Nester said. “How are we supposed to get out? The gates are locked and no one can leave.”

  “It’ll be easy,” Jamie said. “Everyone is looking for Rages inside the commune right now. No one’s looking outwards. So long as we close the gate behind us, there’s no harm.”

  “We might get harmed,” Fatty mumbled under his breath.

  The others ignored him, used to his beleaguered comments. Jamie focused on Nester’s lips. Just a few short hours ago, he’d been sucking on those babies like a dog with a new chew toy. He couldn’t wait to do it again.

  They reached the smallest gate built into Mountain Peak’s four walls. It faced south and was almost always permanently locked shut. It would be the last entry point the commune would expect a Rage to have entered through. Nester, the most nimble of the three, ran up the steps to peer over the lowest wall. They didn’t want to accidentally let in a Rage when the compound was already free of them.

  “Coast’s clear,” Nester said, hopping down to join the boys at the gate.

  “I don’t feel good about this guys,“ Fatty said.

  “Everyone carrying?” Jamie said, ignoring him.

  Nester turned sideways to show off her sword. The best swordswoman in the commune. Jamie fingered his axe. It was his father’s favoured weapon. Jamie liked to swing it, but his small arms got tired easily. He was working on getting stronger arms. He’d try even harder now he wanted to impress Nester. Fatty carried a bow and arrow. The perfect weapon for him. It granted him distance from any danger. A useful feature for a man as low on courage as he was.

  “Ready?” Jamie said.

  Nester nodded. Fatty shook his head. Jamie pulled the locks aside and stepped outside.

  8.

  THE GAS station that stood on the fringes of the Great Salt Lake desert had been chosen because it offered a natural border on one side. In the past, Rages had managed to cross the desert and make it to the commune, but very few. They were ragged and torn, often missing limbs by the time they reached Mountain’s Peak. Even the
commune dwellers didn’t head into the desert often. It was just too dangerous. Temperatures could reach ninety degrees. The sun, baring down, could scramble the brain, turning it to jelly, making it difficult to think.

  At night, as it was now, the desert was cool and calm. Creatures scrabbled across the sand dunes and cawed overhead. It was the desert rush hour. And amongst them, lightly decorated with the essential item of survival in the upcoming blistering heat, were three figures. The sun would begin to rise soon, and the nocturnal animals were in the process of taking refuge beneath the surface. Fatty was already complaining.

  “I don’t see why we had to come out here on our own,” Fatty said.

  “Because no one else will,” Jamie said for the third time.

  “I’m sure we could have convinced some people to join us,” Fatty said. “And I’m hot.”

  Jamie was sweating too. Nester had the ability to never appear to suffer from the heat. But Fatty was right. The light had gradually increased, the temperature along with it, as the sun snuck up on them. But they wouldn’t stop. Not while Jamie had anything to do with it.

  “We’re looking for Bernard,” Jamie said. “And we’re not stopping until we find him.”

  9.

  IT’D BEEN A hard night, searching every nook and cranny of the commune. It was a weary Donald who returned to his quarters. He drank his own bodyweight in water before heading to the bathroom. They had all the modern conveniences. Of course, the term “modern” was subjective. What passed for modern twenty years ago was by no means an indicator of what passed for modern now. Mountain’s Peak had clean running water and electricity generators.

  He rid himself of the grime his body had collected during the night. He stepped from the shower and dried himself on a moth-bitten old towel. He slipped on his robe and headed to his bedroom. He stopped at the entrance and rocked back. Glanced at Jamie’s bedroom door. It was ajar.

  He pushed the door open, careful to do it slowly so it didn’t make too much noise. The light from the corridor stretched to the bed. It was empty.