The man’s face dropped, his eyes moving to the stone path of the front garden as he shifted uncomfortably. Lucas had half a mind to defend him, though he partially agreed with his mother. But to chew out a man who was essentially trying to look after his child seemed a bit much, even if his attempts at doing so were lacklustre at best.
Sighing, Lucas watched as, after a few moments of silence, the man turned around and began trekking back down the garden path. He then closed the garden gate behind him and made his way across the street.
The door slammed shut a moment later, heavy footsteps coming from the hallway as his mum entered the front room. Here she was again, her chest rising and falling, ready to let out another tirade of complaints that he really wasn’t in the mood to hear right now. But Isabelle still wasn’t up, and he had no excuse to avoid it.
“You see that?” his mother said, jabbing towards the man who’d just left as he crossed the street. “That’s what happens when you give up supplies to people willy-nilly and then don’t ask for anything.”
Lucas bit his bottom lip, shaking his head. On one hand, he had to admit she was right. But that didn’t mean she needed to lambast him and then come in here and lecture him. For a moment, it was as if everything was still normal, and not in a good way.
But then he glanced at Apollo, standing there, the glass at his feet, and the broken window. Signs of a world gone awry. He realised everything wasn’t normal. His mum had just not accepted the situation yet.
“Are you listening to me?” she snapped, and Lucas’s eyes drifted back towards her.
He grumbled out a response, and she stepped forward again.
“I didn’t hear you, mister. Did you hear what I just said?”
“Everything all right?” a voice called from the hallway. And a moment later, Debbie stepped into the doorway, narrowing her eyes at Lucas’s mother before shifting them to him.
“Fine,” they both said in unison, and his mum huffed as she moved over to the mantelpiece.
Unconsciously, they were both in agreement that they shouldn’t let others see this little tiff of theirs, especially not Debbie, who his mum had once looked down on. The woman would probably judge her. Not that Lucas cared, but it was his mum.
“Okay,” Debbie said, drawing out the word as she stepped into the room and rested down on the side of the sofa. “What are your plans for today?” she asked, directing her focus towards Lucas’s mother, who shrugged and shook her head.
“Probably just more organising of everything. That’s the thing with these prepper guides; they tell us what to gather and stockpile, not what to do after that, not how to rebuild society.”
Debbie nodded. “Do you really think it’s that bad? Society completely collapsed, and there’s no way left for any of us?”
Lucas nodded grimly. That was almost certainly the case, given the shifting of the planet. If what the system said was indeed true and it wasn’t just a minor thing with the neighbourhood and the streets being a little wonky, then the United Kingdom was no longer the United Kingdom.
It was a mismatch of different lands that probably weren’t there before. For all he knew, he was in the middle of an island surrounded by an ocean, and this forest was hiding that. But part of him doubted that. At least, hoped that.
“I’d say it’s that bad,” Lucas said, nodding at her. “Maybe even a little worse than you’re thinking.”
Debbie’s face fell, her eyes focusing on a spot on the carpet as she shook her head. “For Christ’s sake. I guess I’m not going home now.”
“What’s wrong?” Lucas’s mother interjected. “Do you need some clothes?”
“That would be a start. I didn’t exactly have much on me apart from—” The woman pulled at her t-shirt, the edges torn and flecked with blood. “And I haven’t had a shower in over a day. Two now, actually.”
“I think that’s going to be a running theme for most people.” Lucas looked over his shoulder out of the broken window, watching the house that the man had gone into. There were probably others in there, organising, but they were going through the same thing that he had. That they all were. A lack of water and a growing lack of supplies. Because water used for washing was water wasted. But food, people could at least ration that.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Perhaps there’s a river?”
“Well, there wasn’t one in the town beforehand. I don’t see why there’ll be one now.”
That idea brought up something for him. Whilst they’d gone into town to scavenge, which was a priority, they hadn’t been into the woods. With Apollo at his side, Lucas stepped over to the window, his trainers crunching on glass, and looked towards the thick wall of trees.
The tree line stood dark against the morning light, a solid wall of green and brown that seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions. Small birds—sparrows, maybe—flitted between the branches, their movements quick and nervous. Beyond the first row of trunks, the trees grew dense, packed so tightly together that Lucas couldn’t make out what lay deeper in. Shadows pooled between them like spilt ink. Were the blightkin in there? Watching? Waiting?
“Are you considering going there next?” his mother asked.
“Well, we’re going to have to eventually,” he said, turning back to his mother and nodding. He reached down and rubbed Apollo’s fur. “Besides, taking a natural approach is probably the next step in your prepper guide, isn’t it?”
Lucas’s mother’s face contorted as she brought a finger to her lip, taking a moment to think about what he’d just said before nodding. “I think it was, actually. Farming was the next step. And we’re going to need seeds for that.” She clicked her fingers and stepped away from the mantelpiece. “Have you gathered or seen any seeds so far?”
Lucas bit his lip. He hadn’t. During their search of the few corner stores, seeds were not on his mind, and even if they were, he doubted a corner store actually sold seeds. That was more the supermarket. He shifted his weight and shook his head.
“Yeah, that supermarket is gonna be a real problem. It’s both a key to our immediate survival and a likely hive of blightkin.”
“What do you mean?” Debbie asked, straightening on the sofa.
“You haven’t heard? I assumed Mum had told you.”
His mother gave a sheepish grin to Debbie before bending down and fiddling with the door of one of the small cupboards at the back of the room. “We haven’t exactly talked about much,” his mother said, with a tight laugh. “You know, it all happened so quickly, and she just wanted to go to bed last night, so...”
Lucas nodded. He didn’t buy it. His mum wanted to deny anything to do with the system. As long as nothing forced her to deal with it, she’d practically pretend it didn’t exist. That included the blightkin. But the end of society? She was fine with that. He couldn’t let this continue. He needed to figure something out.
“Well, the thing is—” he turned to Debbie. “The flamebacks are taking people.”
????ˊ? ·?? ? ? ? ??· ??ˋ???
An hour or so later, after filling Debbie in on what he’d heard so far, Lucas again left the house, with Isabelle and Apollo, making their way to town. And as they moved through the neighbourhood, they noticed a difference. Not in any physical way, but the air was definitely more charged. A man even approached them, asking if he could come with them, or better yet, pay them to bring back supplies. He handed Lucas a wad of cash—what had to be fifty pounds in the form of an assortment of notes—to sweeten the deal.
Of course, Lucas rejected it immediately. Money held no value anymore. Something like that was nothing more than toilet paper. You couldn’t even scribble on money, because there were already drawings on it, and so it really had no other use. Maybe some kindling. In the end, he let the man down easy—or as easy as a simple, “No, you’re a liability,” sounded to the man, which probably wasn’t very easy, given the glum face he had after.
But Lucas left the man with some hope. After all, he wasn’t an idiot. He saw that if he cut off a way for this individual, he’d either go into town himself—the least likely of the options—or the most likely one, go to Vincent, and be another potential voice to share his ideology in the future.
And even though it was probably small, Lucas couldn’t risk letting that one chip fly, so he promised to bring the man back some canned goods or anything else he found. Besides, they’d brought back quite a bit so far, and their little stockpile of beans and other goods was growing, so they had some to spare.
With that, they continued to make their way towards town, crouching low and listening out for wolves, boars and any other blightkin. Isabelle even pointed out the hawks that Vincent had mentioned a day earlier—the hawk-ladies’ birds. They prowled the sky, looking for what was no doubt the firecrows, if not also any other birds they could capture. They were brilliant. He even glimpsed one of them dive-bombing a firecrow just as they moved deeper into the town centre. It took the thing out with its claws so easily that Lucas was partially annoyed that he’d even let the firecrow on the first day get away.
With that thought at the back of his mind, he eventually made it to the street of his destination—the street he’d run down the first day this all began. And as he moved, stone and glass and gravel crunching under his trainers, his gaze drifted across the street to a blood spot, lingering on it briefly. It was there that he’d watched as Isabelle’s father died; it was there that the man had given him the locket she now held around her neck, and it was there that Lucas decided to actually, for once on that day, be of some help.
But unlike before, and contrary to what he’d expected, the body was gone, and a sinking feeling hit his gut. He probably should have expected it, but it still rattled him a bit. The wolves had taken the man’s corpse, used it for whatever vile purpose they’d cooked up. Not that those creatures could plan—at least he hoped they couldn’t, because that would mean quite a lot of trouble for them in the future.
A hand rested on his shoulder, shaking him, and he turned to Isabelle, who tilted her head to the side. “You all right, Lucas? You spaced out a bit there,” she said, combing a strand of hair behind her ear.
He nodded, hoping that his face didn’t reveal too much, but he must have failed horribly because she squinted at him, taking a step back. “Is something the matter?” She looked to where his eyes had been, frowning before turning back to him.
Apollo, as if sensing the pending question, let out a low whine and began rubbing against her leg. She turned to him, reaching down a hand, and began scratching the scruff of his neck.
What do you think would be your focus if building a survivors camp?
