Annihilation
Date: 2022-07-27 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror
Description: The end of the end has begun... Aaron Cartwright and his friends have walked through hell and come out of the other end changed in ways they could never have imagined. But they are still human. They are still prepared to fight. And fight they must as mankind's deadly enemy unleashes a new weapon designed to end humanity once and for all. In order to stop the extinction of all life on Earth, Aaron must do something next to impossible. Return home and face the enemy one last time. He will just have to hope that home still exists. Grab the final entry in The Spread series now and experience the b
Rights: Copyright 2022 Iain Rob Wright. All rights reserved.

THE SPREAD

BOOK 6 (ANNIHILATION)

IAIN ROB WRIGHT

ULCERATED PRESS

CONTENTS

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Quotes

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

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For more information just visit the back of this book.

Thanks to Dorothy Rushforth for teaching me how to finally speak like a true Scot.

“There is magic in Scotland. It’s a country with a lot of pride and bravery.”

Gayle Ranking

“We only have to look at ourselves to see how intelligent life might develop into something we wouldn’t want to meet.”

Stephen Hawkings

“No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become.”

Stephen King, The Stand (1978) Doubleday

CHAPTER ONE

Ryan had been travelling south for three days through an unrecognisable world.

The fungus was gone, dissolving into black soot that broke apart and scattered on every light breeze like a thousand flicked cigarettes, but the air tasted of copper pennies, and the dusty air irritated his eyes. Every sight was a constant reminder of past devastation – burnt-out buildings, rotting corpses, and crumpled vehicles as far as the eye could see – but nature was slowly reclaiming what was hers. Succulent green grass sprouted from the gaps in the pavement and from the foundations of buildings. Buttercups and dandelions bloomed, and a weak sun pierced the magenta and orange sky overhead, reminding Ryan that it was still there – that it was fighting just as hard as everything else to survive.

Metal, said Wallace, flapping his fans as he strolled – three-footed – beside Ryan.

Ryan frowned at the seven-foot alien and looked ahead. He saw metal. Lots of metal. A gigantic fallen bird. He realised with a start that it was a plane. It must have dropped out of the sky when the power went out.

Broken, said Wallace.

Ryan was horrified by the sight before him, the enormity of the destruction. What must the passengers have been thinking as they plummeted to the ground? How many children were on board, clinging to their parents in terror?

It was awful.

Ryan sometimes forgot that the apocalypse had happened to everyone. Seven billion people experienced it from their own unique perspective. Most were no longer alive to tell their tales, but Ryan’s story started at a lonely cottage next to a hill in Scotland. For the people on this plane, the crisis had ended suddenly with an unexplained dive out of the clouds. They wouldn’t even have known what was happening.

The aeroplane was in bits. Both wings had come away from the fuselage and were lying bent and blackened to either side. The nose cone was crushed flat, and several uprooted trees lay in a muddy channel behind the tail where the plane had obviously skidded through the earth. Clearly, the pilot tried to perform an emergency landing, but the charred corpses strewn about the wreckage, some mangled beyond recognition, showed that he or she had failed. The impact of the crash had scattered the plane’s contents far and wide. Luggage, clothes, books, and other belongings were strewn about the area. A gruesome and heartbreaking scene.

Little point in sticking around. This was a gravesite. No survivors.

Probably for the best, thought Ryan. Surviving is harder than dying.

Space ship, said Wallace, using his vibrating fans to communicate. The big blue alien possessed a databank full of English words, but that didn’t mean he always knew the right ones to use.

“Not quite,” said Ryan. “Aeroplane. Flight.”

Air car.

“Yeah. More or less. Do they have cars on your planet? Machines?”

Machines. Many. Wallace flapped his fans again and conjured strange images of angular blocks with pulsing centres. Impossible to guess what they were or what they did. Alien contraptions.

Ryan scratched at his dark, sprouting beard, wincing as he disturbed the dry skin underneath. He could feel the grit and grime of days – weeks? – trapped in the hair. How long had it been since he’d last bathed? “So,” he said, his voice dry and starved of water, “if you have machines, why didn’t you bring any of them with you? You came here with nothing. Don’t you have weapons where you come from?”

Wallace stood for a moment, a big blue statue with one enormous black eye. He was likely accessing his word database again, so Ryan waited for him to answer. Eventually, Wallace lifted both fans and conjured images. He explained what they were with words: travel, space, machines, death.

Ryan frowned, trying to make sense of what Wallace was saying. “You’re telling me that when you travel through space, you can’t take anything with you? It all gets destroyed?”

Organisms. Life. Machines. Death.

“What about the boxes you came here in? I saw one of them. It was metal.”

Shell. Melt. Peel. Degrade.

Ryan folded his arms, trying to make sense of what Wallace was saying. It was safe to say they had become friends since Wallace had used his magical powers to bring Ryan out of a coma, but it still took some thinking outside the box to understand his alien companion sometimes. “So you’re saying the metal containers protected you while you travelled through space? They slowly melted away but were thick enough that you stayed safe inside long enough to get here?”

Safe. Arrive. Earth.

Ryan nodded, relatively sure he’d got it right. The blue aliens hadn’t arrived in spaceships like in the movies; instead, they’d shot to Earth in metal pods that hit the ground and peeled open like tins of baked beans, revealing the – hopefully still alive – alien within. How desperate must they have been to take such a risk?

Ryan continued walking, trying to push away the dark thoughts creeping into his mind. He had the entire world to himself down by the border, but the crushing loneliness was hard to bear. He’d encountered people further north in Edinburgh – and it was reassuring to know that humanity wasn’t yet extinct – but the city had been in disarray after some kind of recent terrorist attack. A few of the more helpful citizens informed Ryan about a large group of survivors migrating south, and his gut told him that Aaron was a part of that group. He would want to cross back into England to find their mother. Ryan feared to admit the alternative that his brother might be gone forever.

I’m gonna find you, little bro.

Ryan and Wallace left the plane wreckage behind and walked for a couple more hours until they entered a small village overgrown with strangling weeds and choking ivy that crawled up the sides of the buildings and reached for the rooftops. Corpulent rats with long tails darted back and forth across the road with little care, while from a nearby alleyway, between two grey-stone cottages, a plump orange cat with bright green eyes licked its paw lazily and watched them.

“What is your planet like, Wallace?” asked Ryan, soothing his nerves with conversation. You never knew what horrors you might find in a tiny village such as this. Corpses, at the very least.

Beautiful. Blue. Dead.

“I’m sorry. Did you… did you have cities? Towns?”

Outside live. Together.

After a moment, Ryan kicked a pebble down the road and watched it bounce off the kerb. “Your people probably have the right idea,” he said. “One thing I don’t miss about the old world is being cooped up indoors. When did we decide we should all live in three-bed terraces and overpriced flats? Why did we used to care more about the name on our trainers than the state of our planet? It’s insane. We got everything wrong.”

Ryan paused, realising the creature probably didn’t understand what he was talking about. “Come on, we can cross the border before we stop. I want to spend tonight in England.”

Wallace lumbered forward on his three legs, crushing a patch of daisies beneath his feet. Destination. End.

Ryan took a breath and considered. Now that the fungus had gone from the north, he wanted to see how far he could go before he encountered it again. A naïve part of him hoped the alien scourge had been totally eradicated, but the people he’d met in Scotland had told him the south remained infested, as did most places abroad. But the state of the world didn’t matter to him right now; there was only one place Ryan intended on visiting. “I’m taking you to see my home, Wallace. We’re going to Manchester.”

Man. Chester.

Ryan chuckled. “Close enough. Can you say Glory Man United?”

Wallace turned and looked at Ryan with his single black eye but said nothing. His fans lowered to his sides as if to punctuate the silence.

“Fair enough.” Ryan shrugged. “Just so long as you’re not a Liverpool fan.”

Wallace suddenly lifted his appendages again. Fan.

“Not that kind of fan, mate, but never mind, you’ll learn. Perhaps, one day, you and me will get to watch a game. Christ, there’s a thought.”

Christ. Jesus. Deity. Idol. Superstition.

“Superstition? You saying there’s no God?”

Superstition.

“Yeah, perhaps, but maybe don’t go around denouncing religion. If ever there was a time for people to put their hope in an all-powerful being, it’s now.”

Superstition.

Ryan chuckled. “It’s probably hard to understand. I don’t know what your people are like, but down here, people are always searching for a reason. We don’t like to accept darkness for darkness’s sake; we need answers. Even if those answers are God or Buddha, or whatever. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not for me, but it’s important to some people. You should respect that.”

Wallace stopped and turned to Ryan. His enormous eye did not move, but it seemed to look at him. Both his fans were still raised and vibrating. Superstition. Primitive. Myth.

Ryan shook his head and sighed. “Guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree. Come on, our kid. Let’s get moving before I lose the will to live.”

The two of them set off – man and alien – alone in the world.

Five months. Five months since the world had ended. Five months since the night that Aaron and his brother had found a strange corkscrew on a hill. Five months since the night Brett, Loobey, Sean, Ryan, and so many others had died. It still felt like it had happened yesterday.

Every day, Aaron woke up hoping that it had all been a dream. That his brother was alive and well. But every day he was reminded of the harsh reality. That the world was a dead place, and that there was hardly anyone left to bring it back to life.

Aaron and his current companions referred to their enemy as ‘takers’, but most others called them ‘slugs’. The pejorative term probably helped people think of their adversary as lesser beings, and not the terrifying monsters they were. Aaron had been through too much to kid himself that way.

He tucked his scuffed pistol into his belt and took a walk around the camp’s perimeter. The Central Army – as it was known, and working in tandem with Bristol’s Coastal Army – had set up a base of operations in an area of Birmingham called Cannon Hill Park, a large, open expanse of recreational ground ringed by an iron railing fence. Aaron and the others had been unanimous, over a month ago now, in joining the fight here. They had managed only a few days of rest in Edgbaston, after travelling south from Stoke, before deciding they were still able-bodied enough to fight. Their consciouses had sent them right back to the front line.

We’re either very brave, or fooking stupid.

Maybe both.

Near the park’s main entrance were two stream-fed ponds that supplied the camp with plentiful water and, the ducks upon it, additional food. It would’ve been beautiful back before olive-green tents and steel crates full of military equipment had popped up all over it. Now it was a bustling hub, with soldiers rushing back and forth constantly. The only time it was quiet was in the early hours of the morning, when most of the camp was asleep. At night, the only light came from the stars and the occasional lamp casting an eerie glow over the water.

Overhead, a large blue hot air balloon floated into the distance, towards Bristol. Cannon Hill kept in constant contact with the survivors in Bristol this way, taking messages back and forth and exchanging supplies. Occasionally, even people exchanged hands, sharing skills where needed. It was the only safe way to travel nowadays.

Aaron approached a recognisable face over by the park’s main entrance.

Sophie was not the same woman he’d known a year ago. Back then, she’d worn tracksuit bottoms and halter tops. Today, she donned army fatigues and wielded a sleek, long-barrelled pistol. Instead of eye-liner and lip gloss, she wore scars and dirt. She scowled more than she smiled. She’d changed. They had all changed.

I used to have two arms and both eyes.

It had been a surreal experience when Sophie had arrived in Birmingham a month ago. Like seeing a ghost. Aaron felt no shame for having assumed her to be dead. In fact, it was a miracle she had survived. Even more of a miracle that his mam had apparently survived as well.

But she’s two hundred and fifty miles away with no idea that I’m even still breathing.

So close, yet…

“Hey, Soph,” Aaron said glumly as he approached her. “How’s it going?”

She smiled at Aaron but said nothing for a moment. She just stared at him. Something she did often. Maybe he reminded her of his brother. Only with an arm and an eye missing. “Ask me if I make it through tonight,” she eventually told him. “I’m dead on my feet.”

Aaron nodded, utterly exhausted himself. Cannon Hill was the front line of the front line, so uninterrupted rest was a rare luxury. “Maybe they won’t attack us tonight,” he said, trying not to let it sound absurd. “We killed a lot of them during the last battle. More than they killed of us.”

Sophie glanced at her pistol, flipping it back and forth in front of her. Strands of blonde hair hung down on either side of her face. “We can’t hold on much longer like this, Aaron. The enemy knows it. Did you hear we lost Major James last night?”

Aaron groaned. “Shit! For real?”

Major James was one of the army’s best men, always fighting at the front and keeping everyone’s spirits high with his inventive slurs for the enemy: spunkheads, big yodas, crusty mother-in-laws. At seventy years of age, the grizzled veteran had come out of retirement to lead, and he had been as fit as most twenty-year-olds. His loss would affect a lot of people going forward.

The takers came every night, attacking the fences and sending their deadly pulses through the railings. Or they would club men to death with their thick limbs, the sound of human bones breaking like wet logs being snapped in half. Often the alien invaders sent waves of infected human beings – known as greens – in to battle first to distract and engage. The greens would throw themselves against the railings, their eyes blank and mouths foaming, and they would whip their tentacles through the gaps, desperate to touch and infect anyone they could reach.

But most of Cannon Hill’s defenders were fortunately now inoculated against infection – thanks to a vaccine rapidly synthesised from the blood of recovered infectees like Aaron. The greens were still a threat, though. Their sharp talons, dangling from vine-like appendages, were still deadly.

The most severe threat, however, was always the takers themselves. At seven feet tall minimum, with thick arms and legs hanging from their slender pale-green torsos, they were far more robust than humans and could take a great deal more damage. They gazed upon their prey with a dozen beady black eyes, and killed via a gruesome method – supercharging the air with an invisible blast from their limbs. When a taker’s pulse caught a man, it obliterated his flesh on an atomic level. The effect was beyond the current understanding of Birmingham’s boffins, but they were working hard to figure it out. Until then, dwindling bullets and blunted blades remained mankind’s favoured weapons. As well as two dozen friendly blue aliens.

Helper’s people were the main reason the camp hadn’t been overrun with fungus. Each day, the three-legged aliens patrolled the perimeter and used their vibrating fans to kill off any approaching fuzz. They also took care of any greens that wandered too close to the railings. Most importantly of all, they could heal the mortally wounded, although it took a lot out of them. The blues – as they were collectively known – were gentle creatures, despite their bizarre appearances. They had a calming presence that put men at ease, even amid battle. Whether it was to kill the fuzz or fix a broken man, they were always there to help. The camp’s protectors. The most severely wounded men were sometimes beyond their help and would have to be put down, but that was an unavoidable necessity, and thankfully rare.

The blues had to rest and recuperate after every battle, and could often be found slumped over in the shade somewhere, perfectly still. During that time, the camp was less well defended.

Helper was in worse shape than the other blues, injured while fighting alongside Aaron. One of his fans was missing, and scars criss-crossed his body. He healed slowly and wasn’t as efficient at eradicating the fungus. Aaron felt sorry for him.

Helper has suffered more than anyone.

We owe him so much. I owe him so much.

Aaron surveyed the camp, taking in the pale, weary faces peeking out from the countless tents. Being attacked nightly had sapped the morale, strength, and hope of Cannon Hill’s defenders and, as Sophie had said, they couldn’t go on like this. “Do you think we should leave?” asked Aaron. “Head back north?”

She shrugged. “Edinburgh was a mess, but it’s safer than here. Who knows, perhaps the enemy will stay put and leave us be if we flee? They might’ve taken enough from us.”

Aaron doubted it and showed it on his face. “I want to see my mam, before…”

Sophie nodded, understanding without him needing to complete the sentence. She often spoke of her guilt at having left Nancy in poor health back in Scotland, and a part of Aaron wanted to yell at her for it, but he knew there was more to it than that. “If you want to leave,” she told him, “I’ll come with you. I only came here to find you and Ryan…” She shook her head and glanced away. When she continued, her voice was lower. “I promised to bring you back, so maybe it’s time to go.”

Aaron considered it and immediately felt guilty. Every man and woman in Cannon Hill was afraid, but very few of them deserted. No one was here for themselves. They were here because this was a fight mankind could not afford to lose, and no one was going to fight it for them.

With a sigh, Aaron reached a conclusion. “We can’t leave, Soph. If we were to just…”

“I know, I know. We have a duty.” She shook her head and grunted. “But if things get much worse, there’ll be no point sticking around. Know what I mean? Better we just leave and find whatever peace we can. Fuck this place.”

“You’ve changed.”

“You’re not exactly the same either, kid.” She nodded at his shoulder. “I still want to hear more about how you lost your arm.”

“It’s a long story, full of heroics and damsels in distress.”

She snickered, giving him a rare smile. “I’m sure it is. Guess we all have our tales to tell.”

“Yeah.”

Someone whistled a sharp, two-note trill at them from nearby, and when both of them turned, they saw Cameron and Teddy waving energetically at them. Helper was waddling behind them.

Cameron beamed, his freckles almost radioactive. “Ye both missed it,” he said. “Little Lennie just made an appearance.”

Aaron shook his head and tittered. “Where now?”

“O’er near the toilet block. Had half a squirrel in his mouth, he did. Looked the bonny boy right in his eye, and he growled at me like I wanted tae steal the mangy thing fur meself. Bless his cotton socks, eh?”

Sophie groaned. “You’re obsessed with that cat, Cam.”

Teddy pulled a face and tutted at her. “He ain’t no cat. Lennie’s an Eurasian lynx keeping it real in England, of all places.”

“Well, that makes sense,” said Aaron. “Since they let him out of the local zoo.”

Zoo, said Helper with his vibrating fan. Circus. Farm. Animals.

Aaron smiled. “Yeah, that’s right, buddy.”

Then Helper spoke with his own rasping internal voice, which he had been doing more and more often lately. “Lennie. Lynx. Furry.”

Everyone chuckled. Lennie the lynx was an inhabitant of the nearby conservation park. A cat the size of a man’s torso, with a grey-brown coat fluffier than a rabbit’s pelt, he had become the camp’s unofficial mascot.

When the world had ended, three of the zookeepers at the conservation park had remained behind to care for the caged animals, and as a result, most of the menagerie was still alive today. But feeding the carnivores had grown difficult, so the keepers had opened the cages and let them all out to fend for themselves. Lennie the Eurasian lynx, however, had stayed put, venturing out of his habitat only at night to hunt. Cameron’s hobby was keeping tabs on the fluffy predator’s nightly prowls.

“Someone said they spotted the red panda this morning, too,” said Teddy. “First time since it escaped last week.”

Sophie shook her head. “How can you two be so upbeat? We’re literally dying out here.”

Cameron waved a meaty paw. “Eh, nowt will ever kill me. Dinnae be so gloomy, lass.”

“Don’t tempt fate,” she said, rubbing at her ribs where a madman had once stabbed her.

“We’re about to come on duty,” said Teddy, his smile suddenly fading. The light in his eyes dimmed and his shoulders slumped. “Anything we need to know? What are the takers doing?”

“What they usually do around this time,” said Aaron, and he turned towards the railings. “They’re resting out there in their shiny balls, getting ready to attack us again.”

Teddy groaned. “I really wish they’d take a night off. Didn’t we use the last of our machine-gun ammo last night defending this place?”

“Aye,” said Cameron. “Them fellas from the Royal Engineers were having a wee paddy this morning, arguing o’er supplies. We’re doon tae small arms and shotguns. Pretty soon, we’ll be all oot of that as well.”

Aaron tried to take a deep breath but found himself gasping for air. Since surviving the alien infection, his mind was never at ease, always filled with a kind of static that was interrupted only by the occasional voice. But they weren’t really voices, more like he was receiving… thoughts. Thoughts of the enemy. Sometimes it was overwhelming, and he feared he might drown in it.

Cameron was staring at him, bushy red eyebrows sprouting wildly as if looking for a fight. “Ye all right, Little English? Has yer heid gone again?”

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose and focused on the pain. “Being this close to so many takers… It’s like static. I…”

Teddy chewed his lip and asked, “What is it, mate?”

“It’s getting louder. Something… something’s happening.”

Helper turned towards the fence and flapped his fan. Enemy.

“Feck sake.” Cameron yanked a military-issued handgun from his belt and cocked it. “No rest for this handsome Scot, eh?”

Aaron took a moment to push the noise out of his head and then pulled his pistol out of his belt. Just as he did so, gunfire erupted at the other end of the park, near what had used to be a small funfair. The junior rollercoaster was now full of perches and lookouts.

“There’s our cue,” said Teddy flatly, removing his handgun’s safety with his thumb. “Maybe today’s the day I don’t make it through. Kinda been getting the feeling my time is up, you know?”

Aaron turned to face him. “Hey, none of us is dying. We have each other’s back. Same as always.”

“Talking of which,” said Cameron, “here comes the cavalry.”

Coben, Fiona, and Maggie – who was a friend of Sophie’s – came racing down the path towards them, each armed with a handgun. A petite woman with dark hair and brown eyes, Maggie wore a black tank top and jeans with a hole in the knee. She gave Sophie a quick hug upon arriving, and then nodded to everyone else. Cameron had a habit of flirting with the young brunette, but Aaron suspected she only had eyes for Sophie.

“It’s early,” said Coben, running a hand over his shaved head that was covered in tattoos. “They don’t usually attack until dark.”

“The wee bawbags knew it’d catch us by surprise,” said Cameron. He scanned the nearby fence, probably searching for shadows beyond the vine-covered railings. “They’re no as dumb as they look.”

“Same as you, then,” said Fiona, smirking. Like Coben, she had also shaved her head, but only at the sides. Her left earlobe was torn and scarred, but she no longer seemed insecure about it.

“Come on,” said Cameron. “Let’s go find something to shoot.”

The group spread out and took off towards the funfair, where the gunfire was intensifying. A chorus of loud screeching meant infected people had arrived at the railings. Takers wouldn’t be far behind. Estimates of the taker’s numbers ranged from a few thousand to over ten thousand, but Aaron assumed the answer was somewhere in the middle. Cannon Hill and the Birmingham safe zone were fifty thousand strong, but that number plummeted every day. The blues could only heal so many, and the takers were relentless in their hatred of humanity. A force of nature that couldn’t be stopped. The only thing the men and women at Cannon Hill could do each day was try to stay alive.

“Over there!” Maggie cried out, her voice shrill with fear. She pointed towards a nearby section of fence, and there, several infected men and women whipped their deadly talons through the gaps in the railings. They were moaning and groaning, their eyes crusted with filth and their skin covered in a thick layer of fungus. As more and more of them pushed up against the fence, the cement moorings began to crack.

Cameron was the first to fire, pulling his trigger and sending a bullet ricocheting off the side of a railing and into a flabby man’s fungus-covered face. The corpse remained upright, pressed up against the railings by those behind it.

Everyone aimed and fired, aimed and fired, blasting at the greens amassed in a line beyond the fence. Some of the corpses slumped to the ground, while others remained propped upright by the mob. The smell of blood and gunpowder grew thick in the air. The sound of screams and gunshots echoed throughout the park.

Helper was not as effective as he had once been, so he kept a distance, but he occasionally directed an invisible wave from his single fan that caused a handful of greens to go into seizures and fall down dead.

Gradually, the enemy’s number thinned.

Cameron slapped in another clip and grunted. “I’m on me last after this one.”

Aaron raised his handgun and shot a woman in her fuzzy green eyeball. Before he could fire again, he doubled over in pain, cradling his forehead in the crook of his arm and moaning. “Ah! Shit!”

Fiona stopped firing and put a hand on his back. “Aaron? Are you okay?”

“No… I… G-Get away.” He sprang up and grabbed Cameron, who was standing directly in front of him. He pulled the big Scot away just in time to avoid a shimmering blast of air that would have evaporated him.

At the fence, half a dozen infected people exploded into bloody gas. In the space behind, a taker rushed forward.

The railings rattled from the shock wave, and the sheer force of the taker’s colossal weight smashing up against them caused the cement moorings to crack and crumble. Several railings became unseated, opening up a gap wide enough for an infected little girl to tumble through. Cameron put the kid down with a head shot and she fell limply to the ground like a rag doll.

After firing their pulse weapons, takers couldn’t fire again for thirty seconds or more. Knowing this, Aaron marched up to the railings with his handgun held high. The taker glared at him from a dozen beady eyes and made a sound like a cat hissing. It reached through the gap in the railings and tried to club Aaron, but Aaron dodged aside and emptied three rounds into its flailing limb.

The taker squealed and retreated from the fence.

Aaron forced himself through the gap in the railings and stumbled to the other side. Infected men and women rushed at him, whipping their talons at his throat, but he ducked beneath their attacks and hurried forward.

The taker’s arm had split wide open, gushing out thick, sticky orange fluid like rusty oil. Its screams reverberated inside Aaron’s head, bouncing off the walls of his skull. The sound caused him to smile sadistically. The taker was in immense pain, and Aaron revelled in it.

He raised his handgun and fired two shots into the taker’s back as it tried to flee. The impact sent it flailing pitifully to the pavement. Orange blood soaked the ground.

When Aaron had first encountered the aliens, they had seemed invincible. Now he knew better. They bled like anything else, and between pulses they were defenceless. The only thing they could do was swing their lumbering arms at you and hope to club in your skull. But Aaron was too quick for that – too slender and muscled. He’d spent almost half a year relying only on his instincts and biology.

He stood over the whining creature and basked in its fear. Its brothers and sisters were attacking other sections of the fence, but right now, Aaron cared only about the one in front of him. He wanted it to look at him and know this was its end.

“Look at my face. There’s no place for you after this. Do you understand that? Nothing but the same empty void that awaits us all. Are you ready? Are you ready for it all to end?”

The taker stopped whining. Its uninjured arm lifted from the ground towards Aaron. The air shimmered.

Aaron swivelled and put three rounds in the creature’s limb, obliterating it as he had the other. The taker squealed in agony, now completely defenceless. A cruel smirk crossed Aaron’s lips. His heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing through his veins. The back of his neck tingled, hairs standing on end.

He felt pleasure.

“We’re going to kill every single last one of you. Whatever it takes, do you hear me? We’re going to exterminate you all.”

Aaron let the taker squeal for a few more seconds and then emptied the rest of his clip into its skull. Orange blood splattered on his shoes.

CHAPTER TWO

The 6 am bell rang as usual. Morning broke with little fanfare as people set about their duties in silence.

Last night had seen thirty-eight dead – including two blues – and forty-six injured. In exchange, Cannon Hill’s defenders had dispatched a mere four ‘slugs’. It wasn’t their worst battle, but it wasn’t far off.

Aaron didn’t know how many soldiers remained in the park, but he estimated a thousand at most. He could see their fatigue in the way they moved, in the way their shoulders sagged. At their current rate of loss, it wouldn’t be long until they were overrun. The air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat and death. It soaked the ground. The morning echoed with the moans of the wounded and dying.

Perhaps Sophie was right, and it would soon be time to accept defeat and leave. He could go find his mam and say goodbye. Maybe even top himself with a drug overdose afterwards. Go out in a peaceful haze.

Like a rockstar with nothing left to prove.

As one of the immune, Aaron was often assigned clean-up duty on the mornings after battle. He could handle the infected corpses without fear of getting sick, so he accepted the grim duty without argument. The army had long since run out of chemicals capable of killing the fungus, so people resorted to bonfires and water-filled moats to prevent the spread, as well as the handful of blues working tirelessly to keep the threat at bay.

In the last hour, Aaron had dragged half a dozen bodies to the nearest bonfire, which was no mean feat with only one arm. Dried blood and flakes of desiccated tissue clung to his clothing, and the reek of burning flesh was nauseating. Fortunately, the dead were light and easy to handle, their insides hollowed out by parasitic green fungus; as much mushroom as human being.

Coben came to help Aaron, rubbing sleep from his eyes and grumbling. He’d received a successful inoculation two weeks ago and was now also immune. He gave Aaron a rough pat on the back and greeted him. “Heard you killed a taker last night all by yourself, kid.”

Aaron shrugged. “They’re easy enough to kill.”

“They’re anything but that. Fi said you were calm as a cucumber; marched right up and executed it.”

“It shot its load. I had nothing to worry about.”

Coben grabbed the arm of a dead woman and dragged her towards the bonfire. As he did so, he grunted. “Anything you want to talk about, kid?”

“Not especially.”

“Okey dokey.” Coben dumped the fragile body down with the rest. Dried out spores puffed up in the air, and he waved them away from his face before looking back at Aaron with a look of obvious concern. “I just know it must play on your mind, knowing your mom is still alive out there. You’ve probably been thinking of heading north to find her, huh?”

“So what if I have?”

Coben placed his ropey, tattooed arms out to the sides. Sometimes it was hard to spot a patch of skin that didn’t contain ink. His fingers were splayed wide, the muscles in his arms taut and corded. “I wouldn’t blame you, Aaron. Thing is, we need every man we have right here. This is it, our last stand. It would be wrong to leave.”

Aaron rolled his eye. After what he had been through – after all that he had done – he was unwilling to accept a lecture from anyone, no matter how well meaning. “I haven’t gone anywhere, have I? Every night, I stick around this place, fighting an unwinnable fight, while my mam slowly dies alone, hundred of miles from here.”

“This fight isn’t unwinnable, Aaron. You, more than anyone, should know that. How many victories have you had? How many blows have you struck the enemy?”

“Plenty, and all for nothing. I’ve destroyed corkscrews, killed takers, but the enemy is still here, wiping out the last of us. If it was just the greens, maybe I could hope, but the takers… There are too many of them, and the attacks just keep on coming. Do they even get tired like we do?”

“Bristol is fighting back alongside us. No one is giving in.”

Aaron huffed. “Yeah, Bristol and their hot air balloons. How long before they run out of the gas to fill them? How long before they retreat to their ships and leave the rest of us to die?”

“They’re trying to create a land bridge to us.” Coben shook his head wearily. As a former addict, he could see the light at the end of any dire situation, but eventually even he would have to admit the truth. Still, that moment wasn’t now, it seemed. “We’re all doing everything we can,” he said, sounding like a motivational speaker. “Together we’ll win this.”

Aaron kicked an infected corpse and sneered. “Win? What exactly does winning look like to you? How many people have we lost? You think there’s a scenario where we win?”

“Sometimes a win is still having something left to lose when all is said and done. I lost people, sure, but I found new ones. Tomorrow replaces what we lose today.”

“Really don’t need one of your self-help lessons right now, Coben. I’ve got a splitting headache, and I’ve barely slept in a week.”

Coben put his hands on the hips of his old grey jeans and nodded. “Okay, okay, message received. But if you ever need to unload, just talk to me. No judgement. Just a friendly ear. Deal?”

“I’ll think about it.” Aaron turned and walked towards the fence, not wanting to speak any more. Just forming words was exhausting sometimes.

He passed through the gap between the railings that had opened up last night and stumbled over to the other side again. Someone would be along soon to refortify the section, if possible. The fence grew weaker with every attack.

A pained groan escaped Aaron’s lips as he steadied himself on the path. His eyes squeezed shut, his brow furrowing and lips pressed together. His head really was aching – and he was truly out of hope. So many fights, so many victories, and each had amounted to nothing. No matter what he did, things only ever got worse. Once, he and Ryan had thought that making it down a hill and into the village of Choirikell would end their nightmare. It had only been the start.

He focused on his work. Cleaning up the dead.

The taker he’d executed last night had already been disposed of, but infected corpses lay scattered everywhere. In the distance, nestled along the edges of the main roads, takers slept in protective balls – wee testicles, Cameron always called them. The army had tried everything it could to penetrate the shiny spheres, but even artillery shells had failed to leave so much as a dent. The only way to kill a taker was when they were trying to kill you.

Aaron bent to grab an infected corpse, but movement caught his eye. It came from the bushes that lined the walkway running around the outside perimeter of the park. Something was still alive out here.

Lennie the lynx.

“Huh? Haven’t you gone back to bed yet, Lennie?”

The large cat was usually in its habitat by the time the sun came up, but seemingly not today. His tufted grey ears rotated forward, and he let out a hiss before bolting back into the undergrowth. Despite being a deadly predator, Lennie didn’t like to be approached by people, and within seconds he had disappeared into the thicket.

“Good to see you too, Lennie.”

It confused Aaron when the bushes continued to rustle moments after the animal had gone. Something else was alive in there. Perhaps some uneaten prey?

Aaron had little emotion left inside his heart, but he still couldn’t leave an animal to suffer, so he marched over to the bushes and pulled out his pistol, which was freshly fed with a new clip.

He kicked aside the bushes and aimed, but shock made him leap back. “What the fuck?”

The taker peered up at him through dull black eyes.

Aaron froze, handgun pointed and ready to fire. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t already pulled the trigger.

The creature bled dark orange from a gaping stomach wound, its strange organs on full display – a veritable buffet for a feral meat-eater like Lennie. It moved both arms, but didn’t point them at Aaron. The creature was either too weak or too confused. Rather than something dangerous, it was now just a dying thing. Miserable and afraid.

“You did this,” said Aaron, his soul empty of compassion. “You travelled all this way just to die. Why? Why couldn’t you just accept whatever fate it is you’re trying to escape? If your time is up, why fight it? You don’t have the right to take our home.”

The creature continued staring at him, still making no move to attack. Its breathing was raspy, coming in fits and starts. Aaron knelt beside it, putting the handgun against the top of its skull and intending to end its suffering.

The taker lifted its arm. Any faster, and Aaron would’ve flinched and pulled the trigger, but as it was, he didn’t sense a threat. The fatty limb pressed lightly against the side of Aaron’s forearm in a strangely human gesture that was almost like it was asking to be put out of its misery. Asking Aaron to pull the trigger.

Not yet. I want to understand first. I want to know if they feel anything. Do they have any remorse whatsoever?

“Do you understand what’s happening?” Aaron demanded, grabbing the creature’s fatty limb harshly. “Or are you just a—”

A sudden, unexpected bolt of lightning seared Aaron’s brain and caused him to gasp. He stumbled backwards, breaking contact with the taker, but in the split second before, an entire movie had played in his head. He had felt the creature’s fear, sensed its regrets. Known its desires.

It wanted humanity dead. All of it.

Aaron had fallen to his knees, but he quickly hopped up and aimed his gun at the taker’s face. The mess of emotions inside his head – human and alien – left him trembling, but anger overtook him as he made sense of what he’d seen. “I saw it,” he said. “I saw it all. You’re dying. The air… it’s killing you. Every time we destroy a corkscrew, we choke you. All of you… every one of you is going to…” Aaron paused as more images flooded his brain, like distant memories brought back by flowery aromas or salty sea air. He’d seen so much in that split second that it was hard to acknowledge it in its entirety. But slowly the film reel unravelled, showing him more and more frames. He pictured the takers – thousands of them – gasping for air, their chests heaving as they fought for breath.

The taker before him grunted in pain and limply reached out its arm. It didn’t activate its pulse, but after the pure hatred Aaron had felt inside the creature, he was certain it would have killed him if it could.

Aaron shook his head, trying to make sense of the flashing images in his brain. He saw something familiar. Then something bizarre – a twisted tower reaching high into the sky, full of liquid and globs of obscene fleshy material.

“I-I know what you’re planning,” he said, shaking his head as a deep terror rose from his guts. “Everything. All of it.”

The taker stopped moaning and made a grotesquely familiar sound. A husky rumble coming from its bleeding guts. Laughter. Mocking. Glee.

Aaron pulled the trigger and shot the taker in the centre of its face. The second one he had executed in a matter of hours. It did nothing to fill the emptiness inside him. Especially after what he had just learned.

Panic rising, Aaron turned and ran, calling out frantically to anyone who would listen. Something terrible was going to happen.

We’re all going to die.

Aaron found Coben where he’d left him, still clearing up corpses. He was running so fast he almost knocked the tattooed man clean off his feet.

“Whoa there, kid!” Coben backed up with his hands out in front of him. “Where’s the fire?”

Aaron could barely speak, so he grabbed Coben by the arm, afraid that he might try to run away and get help. “They-They have a weapon. Something… bad. Something very bad”

Coben turned towards the fence. “What are you talking about? What’s out there?”

“N-Not here. I saw it in… in my mind. A weapon that’s going to kill us all. The enemy’s version of a nuclear bomb. They have nothing to lose. They’re suffocating, so they’re going to set off a weapon to destroy us.”

Coben’s green eyes jutted out of their sockets. “How do you know this?”

“I-I touched one of them – one of the takers. I sensed its thoughts. It was dying, but it was soothing itself with the thought of wiping us out. We have to do something, Coben. The weapon can’t go off.”

“All right, mate. Where is it, this weapon?”

“Not here, but I saw where it is. We need to tell the commanders. We need to send everything we have to destroy it before it’s too late.”

“All right. General Pearson is at the Mac centre holding a briefing. Let’s go.”

Aaron tried to move, but instead he doubled over breathlessly. The Mac centre was a small art exhibition centre at the far end of the park that was now used as Cannon Hill’s HQ. He straightened back up and steeled himself. “Okay… Come on, we have to—”

The camp bell rang. A signal they were under attack.

Coben pulled out his handgun. “What the hell? It’s too soon for another attack. The takers haven’t rested.”

Aaron felt static in his head. Alien voices. “It’s me.” He pressed at his temples, trying to decipher the noise. “They know what I saw. They want to keep me from telling anyone else.”

Coben glanced back and forth. “What’s going on, Aaron?”

He swallowed a lump in his throat. “They’re coming for me.”

“Then we need to get you away from here. If what you say is true, you’ll need to live long enough to tell the right people what you saw. Let’s grab the others and get moving.”

Aaron agreed, so the two of them took off towards the barracks, which was a paved area beside the bigger pond where a vast majority of the tents were. From there, they grabbed Cameron and the others, who were already on their way to join the fight. Cameron looked half asleep. Even an alien attack wasn’t enough to wake him nowadays. It bordered on the mundane.

“The feck is going on?” asked Cameron.

“They’re coming for me,” said Aaron.

Fiona frowned. “What do you mean, for you?”

“The lad knows something,” said Coben. “The enemy wants to shut him up before he can spill it.”

“Knows what?” asked Maggie. She was holding herself and trembling. The previous months of fighting had done little to steel her nerves.

“There’s no time to explain,” said Aaron. “I need to speak with the commanders.”

A section of nearby railings rattled, and everyone turned to see a dozen takers assaulting the fence all at once. Infected people threw themselves at the gaps, trying to force an opening between the railings.

Teddy shook his head. “They’ve never attacked like this before, in broad daylight and in this number. This is bad.”

It was true. The takers rarely attacked during the day. It’d been theorised their eyesight was too poor, or perhaps too sensitive to endure the sunlight, but right now they seemed more than up for a fight.

“I’ve still got only the one clip,” said Cameron. “Anyone got a spare?”

Fiona nodded and tossed him one from a hook on her belt. Men shouted and yelled from all over Cannon Hill Park as the takers unleashed their pulse weapons. Gunfire echoed off the pond and between trees – willows and elms – but the deep booms of artillery and the rat-a-tat-tat of machine-gun fire were absent, their ammo spent. The few working vehicles in the camp whooshed back and forth, carrying grey-faced messengers. Several squads of blues rushed over to the railings, their fans vibrating. Helper was not yet anywhere to be seen.

Men yelled frantic warnings, their voices laced with terror and urgency. It soon became clear what had rattled them. A large, dark shape was moving through the trees beyond the railings.

“Oh feck,” said Cameron. “No another one of them.”

Aaron looked over towards the railings by the funfair and saw a towering green beast formed from dozens of infected men and women entwining. It wasn’t the first titan he’d seen – the first had contained his friend, Loobey – but it still caused him to quake. The fungus acted as a single entity and could break apart and merge at will. Now and then, it meant dealing with a monstrosity like this. This one was larger than any he’d encountered.

“It’s going to push down the fence,” said Maggie, her eyes stuck open wide. She pressed up against Sophie, who was counting the loose rounds in her pocket and replenishing a clip. “W-What do we do?”

Unlike the rest of them, Maggie hadn’t fought many life and death battles, having remained safe in Edinburgh for most of the apocalypse. In fact, she’d only joined Cannon Hill’s guard because Sophie had done so, and only as part of the rearguard. Maggie just wanted to be wherever Sophie was.

The two of them had arrived in Birmingham with a young boy named Daniel, but they had found him a family to stay with in Edgbaston, where it was safer. Soon, it wouldn’t be.

Coben put a hand on Fiona’s back and kissed her cheek. “Stick close to me, babe. I’m not losing you. Not ever.”

She nodded, and the two of them took off towards danger, prompting Aaron and the others to do the same. They raced along the pathway that ran alongside the pond, passing by a playground and a block of toilets. The funfair was right up ahead. Hundreds of soldiers fired at the fence and the enormous beast behind it.

Railings popped loose, rattling on the pavement. Infected men and women piled through the gaps, drawing fire while takers fired pulses of supercharged atoms into the park. The pulse attacks travelled only a dozen feet or so, but now and then a soldier got caught off guard.

The screams of men swelled in a hellish chorale.

“This is bad,” said Teddy. “We ain’t making it through this.”

“Stick together,” said Cameron. “We’ve had worse than this.”

The cement foundations holding up the railings finally ruptured, and the loosening of one section had a knock-on effect, affecting those on either side of it. Soon a cascade of railings began and metal girders popped loose one after another, hitting the ground and creating a clanging symphony.

Takers and greens piled inside Cannon Hill Park.

The clatter of handguns and assault rifles firing was deafening. The bullets tore through infected flesh, dropping greens by the dozen. Bodies piled up high. Even a handful of takers fell down dead.

But the unexpected onslaught was too much.

After weeks of testing the park’s defences, the enemy had committed to a full-on attack.

Yelling soldiers formed up in a firing line but were soundly crushed by the hulking beast swinging a massive limb at them and sweeping twenty bodies up into the air. Screaming men came back down to earth with a sickening spat. Others tried to hold the line but exploded in bloody chunks or caught razor-sharp talons across their throats.

Cannon Hill’s remaining officers ordered a retreat, bellowing through battery-operated megaphones. It wasn’t a mass panic, but it was a slaughter. Several soldiers tossed their weapons and scattered, but a minority retreated in an orderly fashion, firing on the enemy and back-pedalling towards vehicles or the cover of trees.

Several fallback positions existed throughout the city, but none were as well-fortified as Cannon Hill. Defeat here meant defeat everywhere, and even if it didn’t, none of it would matter if the enemy carried out their plan to activate the weapon Aaron had seen. They were attacking in order to silence him, to keep him from interfering with their plan.

Which means there must be a chance to stop the weapon from activating.

There’s still time.

The enemy was preparing a weapon of mass destruction. One that would wipe out every single human being on the planet. If they succeeded, wins and losses would cease to matter. It would all be over.

But it hadn’t gone off yet.

A section of railings collapsed nearby, allowing a horde of greens to crash through into the park. Aaron started shooting, and so did his companions. Coben and Fiona were standing ahead, but they turned now and came back, aiming and firing, aiming and firing. Sophie rushed forward and shot an infected woman point-blank. Cameron roared and emptied his last clip in a matter of seconds.

Maggie screamed.

Somehow, while firing as a team, Maggie had wandered out wide. Before anyone had realised, an infected young man had raced towards her and slashed her throat with a dangling talon. Her hand shot to her windpipe, trying to hold in air and blood. Both eyes bulged in terror as she reached out her other hand to Sophie.

“Mag!” Before Sophie could grab her, Maggie tumbled to the ground, gasping for oxygen that would never reach her lungs. Sophie cried out in anguish, then shot the infected man right in the eye.

Cameron bellowed a warning. “Soph! Look oot!”

Helper appeared from nowhere and took out a tiny woman right before she tackled Sophie from the side, using his fan to send the enemy into lethal convulsions. The large blue alien turned to look at the approaching takers with what could only have been hatred.

Sophie nodded to Helper to say thanks and then slumped to the ground beside her fallen friend. Maggie spluttered for a few seconds, blood bubbling between her lips. She looked at Sophie, and then she died.

The greens spilled into the park from a dozen places.

A pair of takers slipped through the broken railings nearby, arms raised and ready to obliterate with their pulse weapons.

“We need to get out of here,” said Teddy. “This is a match we ain’t gonna win.”

“I agree,” said Cameron. “We need tae fall back to the city centre.”

Aaron shook his head and raised his pistol, backing up to keep a distance between himself and the two approaching takers. Both of them headed directly towards him. No one else.

They want me dead because of what I know.

“We can’t stay in the city,” Aaron yelled over the gunfire. “There’s a weapon that’s going to kill us all. We have to destroy it. I’m telling the truth.”

“I believe you,” said Coben, grabbing Fiona by the arm and pulling her back as she fired at the takers.

Fiona looked at Aaron and shook her head. “What weapon? How do you know?”

“I just do. It’s in a place I recognised. It’s in Manchester.”

Cameron tossed his empty handgun at the takers, striking one in the chest. He gave Aaron a confirmatory nod. “I guess yer finally going home then, lad.”

Home, said Helper, and he tilted backwards to look up at the multicoloured sky.

“We need to leave now,” said Teddy, looking like he was about to run away without them. His face was drained of blood and he was skittish like a deer.

Aaron used up the last of his ammunition, dropping one of the two takers to the ground with a double headshot. Like Cameron, he then threw his empty handgun away. “I just hope we can make it there in time. Because if we don’t, every human being left on this planet is going to die.”

Cameron grunted. “I already told ye. Nowt can kill me.”

“Well, unless you’re happy being the last man on Earth,” said Coben. “I suggest we get moving.”

“Aye. I hear ye, pal.”

They turned and ran.

CHAPTER THREE

The further they got from Cannon Hill Park, the more disorganised things became. Most of the human soldiers had scattered, but the remaining blues stayed put and tried to force the enemy back. The takers ignored the blues and pursued the fleeing humans. With them, they brought a horde of infected men and women. Fat, slimy bugs fell from the green’s oozing flesh, ready to spread fungus over the now uncontested land. Cannon Hill Park would soon transform into an emerald hellscape.

Men, woman, and blues died in agony or exploded into nothingness as the enemy hunted them. Some formed defensive groups, taking cover inside buildings or behind dead vehicles, but it was a hopeless fight – only marginally better than being chased down like dogs. Despite that, Aaron and his friends sprinted for dear life, heading out the rear of the park and into the city. The only safe place to go was north, but unlike the scattering soldiers of Cannon Hill Park, Aaron intended to keep going once he passed Birmingham’s city centre.

I’m going home. To Manchester.

They ran for over an hour, right until the point their lungs gave out. Cameron was the first to keel over and groan, panting and grabbing at a stitch in his side. “Christ,” he said, “I cannae move no more.”

Coben stooped beside him. “Me either. I think… I think we’re safe, though.”

Helper lowered beside the two men and went still.

Sophie lifted her camo shirt and pawed at a chubby pink scar on her side, wincing in pain.

Aaron looked back the way they’d come and took a moment to catch his breath. No sign of the enemy, but he could still hear the pop-pop of gunfire. “Nowhere’s safe, but… I think we have a minute to breathe.”

Sophie started crying, wiping tears from her eyes. “Maggie… They-They tore her throat open like a fucking chicken.”

Fiona put an arm around her but offered no words. Sophie stared at the pavement, muttering and sobbing. Painted graffiti covered the slabs, like an apocalyptic Hollywood Walk of Fame.

We’re in the matrix.

Repent thee.

Mankind deserves this.

My dog stepped on a bee.

Whatever happened to Rick Moranis?

“I don’t know if I can do this any more,” said Teddy, dropping into a squat as if he could no longer bear standing. “It’s just… not worth it. Not worth it at all.”

Cameron turned to him and grunted. “So, what ye saying, lad? We should just lay doon and die, eh?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier, man? I mean, this ain’t living, is it? Fighting, running, dying… There’s no way out of this. We’ve been kidding ourselves this whole time. We’re rats on a sinking ship.”

“No one is giving up,” said Coben, straightening up and rubbing at his ribs. “This planet is the greatest gift mankind has ever been given. We need to fight for it.”

Fight, said Helper, rising slightly before dropping again. The alien was visibly tired and sagging to one side.

Aaron slumped against the bonnet of an old convertible. Weeds sprouted from its wheel arches and from the folds of its canvass roof. A thin layer of soot coated its bodywork and the surrounding air smelled musty. “They’re afraid,” he told his companions, looking each of them in the eye. “When we destroyed the corkscrews, we reversed some of the damage to our atmosphere. Every one we destroy makes it harder for them to breathe. I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think we’re the only ones fighting back.” He closed his eyes and tried to remember what he’d felt when he had touched the dying taker. “I got the sense that a lot of the corkscrews have been destroyed. All over the planet.”

“Then things are better than we thought,” said Fiona, her face lighting up. “People are fighting back all over the world.”

Coben smirked at her, as if seeing her happy made him happy. “Makes sense. Or did you think we were the only good-looking, ass-kicking heroes on Earth?”

Fiona blushed. “Of course not.”

“I ain’t no hero,” said Teddy. “And I don’t want to be. I just want this to be over.”

“If we don’t stop their plan,” said Aaron, “you’ll get your wish. Are you sure you want that?”

Cameron put a hand on Aaron’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. “Tell us what ye know, Little English. Tell us aboot this weapon.”

Aaron nodded and pushed himself away from the bonnet. “Okay. I think… I think it’s as bad for them almost as much as it is for us. They don’t want to use it, but they’re desperate. Nobody has ever fought back like we have. If the weapon goes off, it will kill a lot of takers, but some will survive. Enough to repopulate, in time. No humans will make it, though. I think… I think it will pollute the air. Poison it. Harmful to them, but deadly to us.”

“How do you know all this?” asked Sophie, shaking her head. Her tears had stopped coming, but several glistened on her cheeks.

Aaron shrugged. “I touched a taker as it was dying. When I did, it was like I downloaded data from it. The takers can communicate with other takers close by – I hear them all the time in my head – but touching one must have been like activating a broadband connection. It’s quicker than communicating the way we do, with words.”

“But how did you get information from them?” Sophie asked, still shaking her head. “You’re not one of them.”

“Partly, I am. The takers engineered the fungus. Perhaps they used some of their DNA when they did. When I got infected, my body changed and took on parts of the fungus. I guess I’m on their frequency now. More alien than human.”

Fiona shook her head. “You’ll always be more human, Aaron.”

Cameron nodded. “Aye, she’s right, lad. Anyway, this is no a revelation. We’ve known a wee while ye can hack in tae the wee bawbags. Feck, Little English, I’ve seen ye send a rabble of greens packing with a stern look. Yer the best weapon we’ve got.”

“But their weapon is better,” said Aaron. “We need to get to Manchester and stop it before it goes off.”

“Do we have enough time?” asked Fiona, tugging at her ragged earlobe and chewing at her lip. “When are they going to use it?”

“I’m not sure, but I think we have a little time. Maybe. They’re still preparing it. Or getting proper authorisation to set it off. I don’t know. They’re still hoping to win without it.”

Cameron limbered up, flapping his arms and cracking his neck. “Sounds like we shouldnae hang aroond then. Everybody good tae walk again?”

The gunfire seemed to get closer.

Helper rose up and started vibrating his fan. Danger. He then used his own voice. “Death comes.”

“Yeah, I think I’m ready,” said Teddy. His dark complexion had turned a sickly grey and he looked older than his short years. In the last few weeks he’d barely spoken a positive word. Out of all of them, Teddy had lost the most. Not just family, but fame and fortune, too.

They got moving again, following signs that took them north. After a while they fell into a rhythm – a determined march that they could sustain without getting winded.

After several hours, they exited inner-city Birmingham and started towards Wolverhampton. First, they would have to pass through West Bromwich, a place none of them had ever visited. Coben informed them they were in the heart of the Black Country, a place named because of its history of coal mining. Turned out, Coben had a fondness for British history.

“What time is it?” asked Fiona as they passed through a stretch of overgrown parkland.

Cameron checked the thick Omega watch he had looted from a jewellery shop weeks ago. “Past four. A little daylight left, but I have tae say, I’m tuckered oot, man. Maybe we should find a bed for the night now rather than later.”

“I’m down with that,” said Teddy glumly. “I think I twisted my ankle back there, anyway.”

Helper turned to him. Heal.

Teddy shook his head. “You don’t need to do that.”

“There’s a cottage over there,” said Aaron, pointing.

Sitting at the edge of the parkland was a house all by itself. A strange place for a home, inside a city park, but it had likely been here since long before the town had sprung up around it.

“Looks like a nice place,” said Fiona. “Big but somehow cosy.”

“Aye,” said Cameron. “One place is as good as another. Reckon we’ve put enough distance between us and death tae get some rest. We can set oot again tomorrow at dawn. If we walk all day, we might make it halfway to Manchester.”

“I wouldn’t bank on an easy trip,” said Teddy. “Not the way things go.”

Cameron clapped him on the back. “Cheer up, lad. We’re still breathing, are we no?”

“But that’s about it.”

They trudged across the overgrown field until they reached the cottage. The large house was definitely old, with no modern additions to the property at all – not even the windows – but it was in pretty good shape overall. Whatever earl or lord had originally built the property must not have lacked a penny or two.

“I’ll try the door,” said Coben, stepping away from the group and moving over to a thick slab of dark wood with a heavy iron knocker. From the way that thick ivy and thorny weeds clung to the outside walls, it could have been mistaken for a haunted house. But this wasn’t a world of supernatural scares, it was one of aliens and science fiction.

Aaron looked over at Helper. At least not all aliens were monsters.

Coben barged the door, but it refused to budge. He kicked at the bottom several times before admitting defeat. “We’ll have to break a window and board it up afterwards,” he said.

“Seems a shame,” said Sophie, folding her arms. “Another piece of history ruined. Soon there’ll be nothing left.”

“We’ll rebuild,” said Coben. “One day we will.”

“How do you rebuild ashes?”

He sighed. “By remembering what they used to be, I guess.”

Fiona moved over to Coben and stroked his back, then stooped to grab a loose brick from the remains of a nearby stone wall. “Will this do?”

Coben took the brick from her and smiled. “Perfect, babe.” He held it in his right hand and weighed it. Then he positioned himself in front of one of the cottage’s front windows and leant back. “After three, okay? One… Two…”

The heavy front door opened with an ominous squeak. In the widening gap, a middle-aged man’s face appeared. He had a long nose and small, beady eyes. The stranger appeared somewhat bemused to see them. “Um… could you perhaps not do what you’re about to do, please? We live here.”

Coben stopped what he was doing and dropped the brick to the ground. “Oh, sorry, chief. We assumed this place was abandoned.”

The man smiled. “Like most of the world, huh?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Low odds we would pick a house that people actually live in.”

The man eyed Helper, but he didn’t seem alarmed by him. Obviously not his first time seeing a blue. “They condemned it about twelve years ago,” he explained, “but I had the keys to the place. I’m the park’s groundskeeper, you see? Or I was.”

Aaron peered back and forth. Wide roads and shops surrounded the park, but no houses except for this one. The thought of trekking even a little further made his feet throb. Thirsty and hungry, he just wanted to find a place to rest. “I know it’s an imposition,” he said, “but we really need to get indoors and rest. Do you have room for the night?”

The man’s smile faded, and he closed the door slightly. “I… Well, I’m not sure. I don’t know you people from Adam, do I?”

“Well, for starters,” said Cameron, “no of us is called Adam, but we are human” – he side-eyed Helper – “mostly, so that should put us in yer plus column, eh?”

“We’re ready to drop,” said Sophie, clutching at her ribs. “We were at Cannon Hill. It’s…”

“Gone,” said Teddy, sighing. “Pretty soon, I imagine this place will be too. It’s inevitable.”

The stranger moaned and his face whitened. He reopened the door a little, revealing his bald head. “I suppose you’d best all come in and tell us what happened, then. If we need to evacuate, better we know what’s coming. My name’s Bill.”

Cameron reached out and shook the man’s hand. He introduced himself and the others, then said, “It’s gid tae know the kindness of strangers still exists, eh? Yer a sound man, Bill.”

Bill opened the door wider and stood aside. He wore a grubby green jumper that failed to cover his tummy and a pair of straight-legged blue jeans. “As good as any man can be in these trying times. Come on, get yourselves in the warm. There’s a fire burning.”

Helper backed off, lifted his fan, and said, Guard.

Aaron nodded to him. “You want to stay outside and keep watch? Okay. Call us if you need anything.”

Helper used his own voice. “Yesss.”

Aaron patted Helper on the arm – hard and cold – and entered the house after Cameron. It disturbed him to see that a fire was indeed burning, because it reminded him of Choirikell – and the day he had lost his brother – but he tried not to let it bother him. Fire was no longer something under mankind’s control.

A middle-aged woman and second man occupied the room: a cosy lounge with wall sconces and a dado rail. The woman had greasy blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail. The man was in his late twenties and sported shoulder-length brown hair. He had a similar-looking face to Bill – perhaps his son or brother. Both woman and man shifted nervously as Cameron and the others entered.

“Gid afternoon,” said Cameron in his politest accent. “Thanks very much fer yer hospitality, ma’am.”

“My wife and my nephew,” Bill explained.

The woman smiled at Cameron, a mixture of nerves and excitement. “I-I’m Tracey. It seems like weeks since we last met another person. It’s very nice to meet you all.”

“Aye, well, the action is no far away, but ye best off avoiding it. Most folk in these parts have set up in the city, but it’s no a picnic, I can tell ye.”

Bill nodded. “Yes. We were in the city for a while, but it just got so crammed. Once the fungus died, I decided to come and unlock this old place. The park was where I spent forty hours a week before things ended. It’s as much home as anywhere else.”

Aaron nodded. “I understand. I’m on my way home, too.”

“Manchester, I take it?”

“Is the accent that obvious?”

“Just a tad, although your Scottish friend’s is rather more pronounced. Oh, I’d better introduce my nephew. He’s too shy to do it himself. Greg? Say hello.”

The younger man waved a hand lazily in the air but avoided making eye contact with anyone. His clothing choice for the day was a blue tracksuit that looked as though it had been plucked right out of the nineties, complete with white stripes running down the sides. The gaudy fabric was thin and worn in places, and his shoes were equally as shoddy. “Hey, um, good to meet you,” he said, blinking rapidly.

Bill grabbed a rickety wooden chair from the corner of the room and slid it across the dusty floorboards. “Well, find a place to sit, folks. Wish I could offer more comfort, but most of the furnishings rotted away a long time ago.”

Everyone sat on the floor, except for Cameron, who took the offered wooden chair. It creaked under his weight.

“What is this place?” asked Coben, sitting cross-legged on the bare floorboards over by the front door.

“Coulson Manor,” explained Bill. “Coulson was the original owner of this parkland, back in – oh, I don’t know – the seventeen hundreds, or something like that. Just a rich landowner, nothing special. The house is listed, keeping anyone from knocking it down, but other than paying the costs to keep it standing, the council never wanted to do anything with it. For a while, they gave it out to the park’s groundkeepers, but that was before my time. More’s the pity. I would have liked to have done the place up to its former glory.”

Aaron peered up at the beamed ceiling. It was unusually high, maybe twelve or thirteen feet, and he felt a moment of vertigo. The thick oak beams were stained almost black from years of smoke and soot. “It’s big.”

Bill smiled. “Yes, although it only has three bedrooms, if you can believe it? There’s a wine cellar and an attic, as well as several rooms on the ground floor. Most of the building is a health hazard, though, so please don’t go wandering off. If you need to go to the toilet, we all go into the woods just behind the house. The kitchen is safe to enter, but please ask if you’re going to take anything. Upstairs is completely off limits. You’re likely to fall straight through the floor before you make it halfway across the landing.”

“Noted,” said Coben. “We’re not planning to intrude.”

“We’re grateful,” said Fiona. “You could have locked us out.”

“And you could’ve forced your way in,” said Bill. “I figured it was better that we all get along.” He took a seat in an old armchair and reached over to squeeze his wife’s knee. In her lap, she had a pile of knitting. With the fire burning, it was like a scene from history. “So,” he said, placing his hands in his lap, “you’d better tell me what’s been happening in the city. I fear bad news.”

Teddy huffed. “What other kind is there?”

“Worse and worse still,” Sophie muttered.

Cameron turned to Teddy and rolled his eyes. To Bill, he said, “It’s been a long day. The enemy attacked us at Cannon Hill Park. They forced everyone to fall back and abandon the place. A lot of good folk didn’t make it.”

Tracey groaned. “How awful. I worry all the time about those brave men and women fighting. I wish we had the same courage.”

“Why don’t you?” asked Sophie. “What are you doing here when there are people fighting and dying so close by?”

Cameron glared at her. “Soph!”

Teddy shrugged. “She has a point, man.”

Bill’s face turned a deep red. His hands fidgeted in his lap, his knees pressed together. “You’re right. It’s cowardly. In the first months, we fought back along with everyone else. As we said, we were in Birmingham. My brother was alive back then, along with his wife. Greg had two younger brothers, too.” He leant back in the armchair and lifted his dirty green jumper to reveal a scattered circle of puckered scar tissue. “Shotgun blast. Someone lost the plot at the building we were staying in. This was after I had already lost everyone I cared about.” He squeezed Tracey’s knee again. “Well, almost everyone. After I healed, I decided I had given enough of myself. I wanted to spend whatever days I had left in peace. No rules. No government. No other people. Just what’s left of my family. It might seem selfish, but that’s the point I’ve reached. There just doesn’t seem to be much point in fighting any more. We’ve already lost, and” – he nodded at Aaron, more specifically to where his missing arm should have been – “it takes too much of us.”

Sophie sighed. She was sitting up against the wall and had pulled her knees up against her chest. “I suppose I can understand that.”

Teddy nodded and fell silent.

“It was my fault,” said Greg. “Bill wanted to keep fighting, but after I lost Mum and Dad and my brothers…” – the younger man let his head drop – “I just broke.”

Tracey looked at him and smiled. Then she turned to Cameron and the others. “He’s doing better now, but for a while he was… what do you call it? Catatronic?”

“Tonic,” said Aaron, and then realised there was no need to correct her. “Doesn’t matter. I’m sorry you’ve all been through so much. I lost a brother, too, Greg, so I know how you feel. It fucking sucks.”

Greg seemed startled by his language, but then he grinned. “It certainly fucking does.”

And just like that, the atmosphere relaxed. Everyone was smiling. They spent the next few hours sharing stories and getting to know one another.

Greg had been a plumber for the local council. Tracey had been a cleaner at a nearby hotel. An ordinary family, lucky to still be alive in extraordinary times. They had kept alive these last few months by setting snares for rabbits in the park and fishing at a man-made lake half a mile away. Fortunately, Greg had been an Army Cadet for several years as a child, which had taught him many useful skills. He had intended to become a soldier but was ineligible because of severe epilepsy caused by a head trauma suffered when falling from an oak tree at fifteen years of age. The effects were obvious from the way he blinked rapidly whenever he talked.

The sun dipped away with no one noticing. The crackling fireplace bathed the sitting room in a warm orange glow. Aaron stared into the flames, picturing Choirikell’s church burning down. He had come so far, seen so much…

What am I now? A warrior? A survivor?

A zombie?

Aaron had been a frightened child not so long ago, desperately wanting to be back in his room playing video games. Now he was a ruthless fighter, able to shoot seven-foot monsters in the face at point-blank range without blinking. He had lost friends, family, and limbs, yet he kept going, capable of things he would once never have believed possible. Fear barely touched him. He had dominion over it.

Aaron didn’t know how long had passed when Greg asked him how he had lost his arm. He was reluctant to explain at first, not wanting to bring up old wounds – literally – but once he started to recount the last year, the story came easier than expected.

“I can’t believe you did all that,” said Greg. “You destroyed corkscrews, came all the way from the Highlands… You’re unkillable.”

Aaron shrugged. “I’m not sure about that. Soon, there won’t be much of me left.”

Cameron had been listening to their conversation, and he leaned over. “Hey, did ye tell him aboot the time we got locked up at the zoo by Teddy’s mad boss?”

Teddy groaned. “The doc wasn’t my boss. He was just… trying to keep people alive, in his own way.”

“Aye, by robbing and killing innocent strangers.”

“All right, man. Let’s not talk about the past. I ain’t proud of it.”

“I don’t think any of us are, dear,” said Tracey warmly. She had spent the last hour knitting a purple and white blanket. She worked the needles deftly, her hands moving in smooth, practised rhythms. As she looked at Teddy now, she lay the knitting in her lap. “The past is just practice, honey. Judge a man upon his deathbed, I say. Not a minute before.”

“Yeah,” said Teddy, seeming thoughtful. “But what if a man’s deathbed arrives before he’s put things right?”

“Then, I suppose we should look to the contents of his heart.”

Cameron nodded at Teddy. “I no meant anything by it, lad. Yer one of us.”

Teddy nodded and looked away.

Silence hung in the air for a few moments, broken by a yawn when Bill stretched out in his armchair. “Well, it’s getting late, folks,” he said, “so perhaps you should all try to get that rest you need. My family sleeps in the dining room at the back of the property. Are you all okay with bedding down here? We can bring you some cereal and water so you don’t have to sleep on empty stomachs, but I’m afraid our kindness stretches no further. I hope you understand.”

“Of course. You’ve been very kind,” said Sophie, who had lightened up since earlier. She had shared a few stories about her and Maggie on the road with Daniel, and it seemed to have helped her.

Tracey put her knitting down on the floor, stood up, and waved a hand. “Don’t speak of it. It’s been great having you all. Almost forgot about the state of things out there for a while.”

Coben nodded. “Nothing soothes the mind like a bit of friendly conversation. We all appreciate your hospitality.”

Greg moved towards the back of the room. “I’ll see if we have any spare blankets upstairs.”

Aaron frowned. “I thought it was unsafe?”

“What? Oh, um, yeah, it is. I just wanted to check the cupboard right at the top of the stairs. Any further would be too risky.”

Aaron nodded. “Okay. Don’t put yourself in danger on our behalf, though. We’ll manage.”

Bill cleared his throat. “Do we need to let your alien in? Helper, was it, that you called him?”

Aaron climbed up off the floor. “God, poor Helper. We left him outside. Are you okay with him coming in? Have you met his kind before?”

Bill nodded. “Of course. There were a bunch of blues in Birmingham when we were living there. They used to heal the sick, push back the fungus. Having one in the house is more than fine with me.”

“Do you know why they’re here?” asked Tracey, now standing in the doorway to the next room. “No one had an answer back when we were in the city.”

Aaron told her what he knew. “They came here to help us defend our planet because theirs is gone. The same thing that’s happening to us happened to them as well.”

Tracey shook her head, her eyes full of sadness. “We really are small, aren’t we? We used to think we were the centre of everything, but we’re mere ants.”

Cameron folded his arms. “We’ve all been thinking the same lately, I’m sure. Thing is, get a few million ants together and they can tear apart a fatty coo.”

“A what?” asked Greg, frowning.

“A coo. A coo, man!”

Aaron smiled. “He means cow.”

Cameron nodded. “Aye, that’s what I said. A coo.”

Sophie chuckled. “You get used to the accent after a while.”

Greg merely looked perplexed.

“Food for thought, anyway.” said Bill. “If you folks need anything, just shout, won’t you? Don’t go wandering about in the dark and break an ankle.”

“Understood,” said Coben.

Everyone made space on the floor for themselves. A few moments later, Tracey brought a plastic bag half-full of cereal for them to share, as well as a large plastic bottle of water. Greg produced an itchy blanket that was big enough to cover two. Coben and Fiona took it, claiming lover’s rights.

Aaron was the only one still standing, so he turned towards the heavy front door. “I’ll get Helper.”

He pushed open the door and stepped right out into the night. The air was thick and still, without a hint of a breeze. The darkness was all-encompassing. Without light pollution from lampposts, cars, or electricity-filled houses, the nights had become obscenely dark. On evenings when the moon was but a sliver, you could barely see your hand in front of your face. The stars were diamonds strewn across a velvet cloth. It took several moments to spot Helper standing over by the side of the manor.

“Hey, Helper. Did you want to come inside where it’s warm?”

Helper flinched, which was a reaction Aaron had never seen from his brave companion. “Aaron,” he said in his own voice. “Speak no.”

Aaron whispered. “Do you mean be quiet?”

“Quiet.” Helper raised his fan, but not to produce an image or make a sound. He was pointing. Towards the upper part of the manor.

Aaron looked up at the building. The first floor was smaller than the ground floor, and there was a small round window in the moss-covered roof that must have been the attic. “What is it, Helper? What’s wrong?”

Whenever Helper used his own voice, the words always came out slowly and with great effort. But he was getting better every day. “Emotion. Sadness.”

Aaron shook his head, confused. “I… I don’t understand.”

Helper continued to point towards the attic window. “Crying.”

“Somebody is crying? Who?”

Helper lowered his fan and stared at Aaron with his large, solemn eye. “Girl cry. Aaron help.”

Aaron was still confused. He could hear nothing, but then he wasn’t a highly evolved alien. Did Helper sense something he could not? “There’s a girl crying? In the attic?”

“Yesss.”

“Okay.” He shook his head, taking a moment to let things sink in. “I, um… I’ll check it out. Are you coming inside?”

“Wait. Guard. Watch.”

Helper meant to stay where he was, which probably wasn’t a bad idea. He could detect the enemy long before anyone else.

But what is he sensing now? A girl in the attic? What the hell?

Aaron went back to the front door but paused before opening it. As much as he had tried to understand, he was still confused. Everything had been fine. Pleasant even. Nothing had appeared to be wrong.

But if Helper said something wasn’t right, then it wasn’t.

Aaron was mentally stuck as he re-entered Coulson Manor. He wanted to investigate the attic, but he didn’t want to overreact to what might be a false alarm. Bill and his family had been nothing but welcoming, and they seemed pretty normal. Causing a disturbance in their home after all of their kindness would be a massive discourtesy. It was surprising how much social conventions still mattered.

Time passed by while Aaron considered things. Cameron started snoring, while Coben and Fiona snuggled up together, whispering sweet nothings. Teddy remained silent, staring up at the ceiling beside Sophie, who had her eyes closed. The log fire still burned, but it was dying down.

Where were Bill and his family right now? Asleep in the dining room, right? Could Aaron get to the staircase without them seeing? Should he wait for the others in the room to fall asleep? Or should he tell them what Helper had said?

He waited a while longer and then shuffled along the floorboards next to Teddy, intending to clue him in. But Teddy had fallen asleep. The entire group had developed the ability to fall unconscious in all kinds of conditions. Tonight had only made things easier, as they didn’t need to worry so much about being attacked. The first peaceful night gifted to them in a long time.

Fiona and Coben ceased their whispering and drifted off.

Everyone was asleep except Aaron.

I don’t need to involve them. If I’m going to sneak upstairs, best I do it alone. Less noise. Less commotion. Less explaining to do.

Aaron waited a while longer to make sure everyone was snoozing deeply enough not to hear him and then got moving. He hoped Bill and his family were dead to the world as well, not wanting to explain why he was snooping around their house after explicitly being asked not to. His heart was fluttering in his chest, and he felt more anxious than when he faced takers and hordes of greens. Sneaking wasn’t a skill of his, and the thought of offending his possibly innocent hosts was unsettling.

All the same, he trusted Helper.

And Helper has a bad feeling about this place.

Aaron rose to his feet, trying not to cause the floorboards to creak. In the fireplace’s orange glow, he studied his sleeping friends. Each was as peaceful as a newborn baby. Sleep was the only break any of them had from the nightmares of reality.

Cameron started snoring like a chainsaw. It helped cover the sound of Aaron’s footsteps.

Aaron crept towards the door. It had an ornate brass handle that was stiff when he pushed on it, and he cringed when the hinges squawked. He waited several seconds until satisfied no one had heard.

Then he crept into a hallway.

Directly opposite was what he assumed to be the kitchen. Too dark to see inside, he could make out the vague, angular shapes of cabinets and counters. He groped blindly along the wall, relying on his ears more than his eyes. A doorway at one end of the hallway could lead to the dining room, which meant he should avoid it. He saw no sign of Bill or his family. The only sound was his own breathing.

A small recess contained a staircase. Aaron gazed up the stairs, blinking several times as he tried to see through the darkness with his single eye. All he could make out were the darkest shades of grey. It forced him to lean forward and put his hand on the third step, palm brushing against the exposed wood. He feared the boards would creak, and sure enough, the lowest step groaned as he placed his foot on it.

This is going to end badly. Things always end badly.

When he was sure no one was coming, Aaron took the stairs as carefully as he could, realising that by placing his feet to the far sides, he could reduce the creaking. Before he knew it, he was at the top, staring down a gloomy landing.

A window ahead let in a sliver of moonlight.

To either side of the landing were doors, but what Aaron immediately noticed was the absence of the cupboard Greg had mentioned. The floorboards also seemed sturdy – no danger of falling through them. It wasn’t enough to be distrustful of Bill and his family, but it was enough to arouse suspicion.

This is their place. They simply asked us not to snoop around. A reasonable request.

All Aaron saw as he crept along the landing were empty rooms. Three bedrooms with nothing in them. Not even carpets. Coulson Manor’s upper floor had been stripped bare – anything of worth probably sold off at auction long ago, or rotted away and tossed in a skip.

So why doesn’t Bill want us up here? There’s nothing to hide.

Maybe it is dangerous. Maybe I’m being reckless.

But reckless got me this far.

Only a single door on the landing was closed, towards the end, next to the window that was letting in the moonlight. Aaron tried its brass door handle and was relieved – as well as anxious – when it opened.

A staircase ascended into darkness.

The attic.

A musty smell drifted from the upper shadows. Unpleasant enough that he wrinkled his nose. Once again, he had an ominous feeling of the house being haunted, and once again he reminded himself that this world was not fantastical, but grim and dark.

Helper had pointed up at the attic window.

Girl. Cry.

Help.

Aaron listened, trying to detect something – to hear whatever Helper had heard.

And he did.

The sobs were barely audible – meek and pitiful. Female. A girl was up there, but who? No way could it be Tracey. It made no sense for her to be up here, crying in the attic. It was someone else.

Someone else who had been here the whole time.

Aaron placed a foot on the lowest step, then paused. Peering up into darkness, he wished he could push a light switch and illuminate the world. Such a simple thing to miss – a working light bulb.

But the only way to do this was in the dark.

He took the next step.

And then the next.

Pausing once again, Aaron listened. The sobbing continued, but it was strange. Muffled? He thought of calling out, but decided it might scare whoever was up there. Better to get a good look at the situation before acting. He might make it to the top without being noticed.

Let’s just get this over with.

Aaron took the last few steps and fell into a crouch at the top of the staircase. The attic was cramped with a low ceiling, but it was also long. It stretched back far into the shadows. An inert staleness hung in the air. Sweat. Dampness.

He spotted silhouettes at the far end of the attic, formed by the moonlight spilling through the window he had seen from outside. One of the silhouettes moved. A person. Sobbing. Trembling.

A shiver ran up Aaron’s spine. A voice in his head told him to run, and for once, that voice belonged only to his own subconscious. No alien static. Just old-fashioned human fear.

The sobbing continued as Aaron got closer, pained rather than sad. When he crossed the attic, he understood why.

A second silhouette, not moving, belonged to a dead body. A girl with dark hair and pale skin from what his struggling eye could see. The sobbing girl was kneeling beside the body, hands behind her back.

No. Her hands are tied behind her back. Shit, her ankles are bound too.

And is that a gag in her mouth?

Aaron gasped.

The bound girl turned her head at the sound, and her twinkling eyes seemed to capture every speck of moonlight inside the attic. Her sobs halted, and she let out an urgent moan. Help me, she was saying, not needing words to make herself clear.

Acid burned Aaron’s throat, and he nearly screamed when the girl wiggled on her knees towards him. It was only by looking into those wide, pleading eyes of hers that he kept his calm.

“Okay, okay.” He threw up his hands to prevent the girl from colliding with him. “I’m going to help you.” He kept his voice to a whisper. “Just stay calm. My name’s Aaron. I won’t hurt you.”

Another muffled moan, this one seeming to indicate that she understood. She had stopped just short of reaching him and now tottered back and forth on her knees. She wore a nightdress, one that looked as though it should be on an old woman. It might have been white once, but it was filthy and torn now. Underneath, the girl was skin and bones.

“Jesus,” said Aaron. “Who did this to you?”

Who else, man? Get real.

Bill and his family are fucking maniacs.

Aaron reached his hand out to the rag stuffed inside the girl’s mouth. It was secured in place with a shoelace, and he had to fumble with a knot buried in her dark, greasy hair to remove it. Once the gag loosened, the girl spat it out and let it fall around her neck. “Y-You have to get me out of here,” she said, smart enough to keep her voice to a low volume.

Aaron tried to keep himself from shaking. “I-I will, but what are you doing here?”

“The people who live in this house. They kidnapped me and my sister.”

“Bill? Bill did this?”

She nodded. “He’s a sick bastard.”

“Jesus…” Aaron shook his head, momentarily stunned to find himself in a scene from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. “I’m getting you out of here, but we need to be quiet. My friends are downstairs. We just have to—”

The floorboards creaked at the other end of the attic, back by the staircase.

The girl screamed.

A figure rushed towards them, heavy shoes clattering over the floorboards.

“Shit!” Aaron leapt to his feet, but forgot about the low ceiling height and struck his head on the eaves. As he tried to catch his balance, he saw something arc through the shadows towards his head.

Aaron opened his eyes and moaned. The back of his head was heavy, as if his skull had grown too thick. His brain rattled like a cymbal. It didn’t help that something was pecking insistently at his temple.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” said a voice he recognised as belonging to Bill. The man was prodding Aaron in the temple with his stubby index finger.

Bill! He hit me with something.

Aaron’s vision stopped spinning, and he slowly became aware of his surroundings. He was sitting in a candle-lit room, one filled with dusty chairs and a large wooden table covered in deep scratches. The dining room.

In the corner was a row of sleeping bags and several crates of water.

Greg stood by the door, staring at the floor and fidgeting with the sleeve of his blue tracksuit, as if he could erase the wrinkles merely by rubbing on them.

Bill stepped in front of Aaron and revealed he was holding a shotgun. The old wooden stock must have been what had knocked Aaron out. No wonder his head was killing him. “I warned you not to go wandering around,” he said. “Why did you have to do a thing like that?”

Aaron tried to speak, but his lips disobeyed him. He tried again until he managed it. “Y-You have a girl up there. In the attic.”

“That would be Morgan. She can be trouble at the best of times. If not for her, you’d be waking up in the morning well rested and ready to be on your way. Hindsight, huh? Hell of a thing.”

Aaron tried to get up from his seat, but the chair came with him. Bill had tied his wrist and both ankles to the wooden spokes that made up the backrest. If he tried to take a step forward, he would fall, so he sat back down. “Where are my friends?”

Bill grinned, displaying rotten teeth. In fact, the whole man suddenly seemed rotten. How had Aaron missed it? “They’re where you left them,” he said, “Although my wife now has a shotgun aimed at them. Actually, I’d best go check on her. Tracey has a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later. Greg? Keep an eye on our young trespasser here. If he tries to escape, just kill him. I see no reason not to.”

Bill handed Greg the shotgun and stomped out of the room. Greg stepped forward gingerly, illuminated by the flickering candlelight. The shotgun appeared heavy in his hands, aimed at his own feet.

Aaron struggled, trying to free his wrists. To distract Greg, he attempted conversation. “Are you really Bill’s nephew?”

Greg nodded. “Yeah. We’re family.”

“Huh, so when did he teach you to kidnap young girls and tie them up in the attic?”

“It’s not like that. She… She’s a friend.”

“Huh? Want to explain that to me again?”

Greg’s eyelids fluttered, and he flicked his head to send his greasy hair behind his ear. “It’s complicated, and none of your business. If you don’t do anything stupid, my uncle might let you go.”

“You expect me to ignore what I saw in the attic? There’s a dead girl up there. Is it Morgan’s sister?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know Taylor was dead until tonight. She was okay when I last saw her.”

Aaron shook his head and sneered. “It smelled bad in that attic, man. She must have been sick for days.”

“She had an infection on her foot. We gave her medicine, but the army took all the good stuff in the early days.”

“Dead of an infected foot. What a way to go. She a friend, too, huh? Would hate to see how you treat your enemies.”

Greg slumped back against the wall, nearly dropping the shotgun. He licked his lips as if they were dry, showing that he, too, had rotten teeth. “You’re right. She didn’t deserve to die like that. Taylor was nice.”

It surprised Aaron to see genuine guilt in the young man’s expression, along with a kind of childlike innocence. Greg was weak. Bill was a predator. At the end of the world, there was still an order to things. Bullies still preyed on the vulnerable.

“Greg? Are you a good person?”

He frowned at first, but then, after a moment, nodded. “I try to be.”

“Then untie me, all right? We’ll deal with Bill, and you won’t have to be afraid any more. You can come with us.”

“No. No, you can’t do anything. He’ll shoot you. Bill doesn’t care.”

“He’s killed people before, huh? How many?”

Greg looked away. The shotgun was still pointed harmlessly at the floor, which showed he wasn’t intent on using it on Aaron. A good sign. “He’s killed lots of people,” he said. “Sometimes we get into fights over food and stuff. It’s the only way to survive.”

Aaron shook his head. “It’s one way to survive. Not the only way. Untie me, and my friends will show you something better.”

“Just be quiet. I-I won’t help you.”

Aaron didn’t know if that was true. He sensed doubt in Greg, and with enough time, the odd young man could probably be persuaded. The problem was, there wasn’t enough time.

I have to get myself out of this. Fast.

Aaron tugged at his ropes. When he pulled up his wrist, it yanked his ankles back beneath the chair. He tried swaying. The chair creaked and protested. It was old, another relic left to rot inside Coulson Manor.

“Greg. Untie me and you can make this right. The army will come through here soon, heading north. If they find out what you’ve been doing, they’ll execute you on the spot. Do you want that?”

“No.”

“Then help me.”

“No.” He shook his head and averted his eyes once again. “Just stop talking, or I’ll have to hit you.”

Aaron grunted. “Fine. Can I give you some advice, though?”

He rolled his eyes and glared at Aaron. “What?”

“Don’t get up after.”

“After what?”

“After this.” Aaron launched himself forward, dragging the chair with him. He lost his balance almost as soon as he found it, but he had enough momentum to throw himself forward at Greg. Just before he made contact, he twisted so that the chair was between the two of them.

His remaining momentum sent both of them crashing against the wall. Greg gasped as the chair legs struck him in the ribs. Aaron grinned at the sound of wood splintering.

Greg slumped to the ground, winded. Aaron rebounded, spun, and fell backwards onto the broken chair. It exploded beneath him, all four legs snapping away. The backrest shattered completely.

With his bonds now free of the chair, Aaron had some slack with which to work. His wrist was still tied to his ankles, but when he dropped his arm to his side, it allowed him to stand up straight. The rope kept him from taking full strides, but he was able to rush Greg before he could climb back up off the floor.

Greg still had the shotgun. He pointed it at Aaron.

Aaron shoved his knee up into Greg’s jaw. The impact was grizzly, bone against bone, and Greg cried out in shock and pain before slumping back to the ground. This time, he dropped the shotgun. It clunked against the floorboards.

Aaron bit at the rope around his wrist and loosened it enough to free himself. He then dropped to his knees and grabbed the fallen shotgun, turning it against Greg as he lay dazed on the floor. “This is the part where you should stay down,” said Aaron.

Greg moaned and rubbed at his jaw.

Aaron struggled to his feet, tucking the shotgun underneath his arm to keep from dropping it. Once upright, he shuffled over to the door. Luckily, no one seemed to have heard the scuffle, which meant they wouldn’t know he was free yet. In the seventeen hundreds, people had made walls thick.

“Y-You’re making a mistake,” said Greg, still lying on the floor. “Bill is going to be mad.”

“Good,” said Aaron. “It’ll be even more amusing when I shoot him in his face.”

Once again tucking the shotgun underneath his arm, Aaron grabbed the door handle and let himself out into the hallway. It was the same one he’d been in earlier, so he knew exactly where to go.

To maximise his advantage of surprise, Aaron wasted no time. He kicked open the door to the sitting room and leapt inside with the shotgun raised.

In a split second, Aaron took everything in, every detail of the fire-lit room. Bill was holding a hammer, about to smash Cameron in the head with it as the big Scot lay moaning on the floor. Sophie was stooped in the corner, cupping a bloody nose. Teddy, Coben, and Fiona huddled by the fireplace, a scowling Tracey pointing a shotgun at them. His friends had been sleeping, caught unawares. Taken hostage by a single deranged woman.

Aaron didn’t think twice. He aimed and pulled the trigger.

Tracey flew backwards into the wall beside the fireplace, a bloody hole opening up in her side. The shotgun left her arms and skidded across the floorboards.

Aaron stumbled back from the recoil and almost dropped the bucking shotgun. It was not a weapon designed to be used one-handed. A haze of putrid grey smoke escaped the barrel.

“Tracey, no!” Bill dropped the hammer and rushed to his wife’s aid. She was still alive but seemed utterly shocked at having been shot. She kept trying to speak but couldn’t catch her breath. Blood formed a puddle on the floorboards next to her, glistening in the dying firelight.

Bill cradled his wife, howling in anguish.

Sophie leapt up from the corner of the room and grabbed Tracey’s fallen shotgun. She turned it at once on Bill, blood dripping from her nose past her snarling lips. “You lose, motherfucker. Aaron, where’s the other one?”

Aaron stepped into the middle of the room and glanced down at Cameron, making sure the big Scot was okay. A grotesque grey lump had formed on his forehead, but he was conscious. “Greg’s in the other room,” said Aaron. “He won’t be a problem.”

“What the hell happened?” asked Teddy, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Why did these fools turn on us?”

“Because I went into the attic,” said Aaron. “Helper warned me something wasn’t right. It wasn’t.”

Sophie frowned. “What’s in the attic?”

“Two girls. One dead. One tied up and gagged.”

Fiona covered her mouth and groaned. “My God. We need to help her.”

Aaron nodded. “No shit. You should go get her, Fi. She’s scared, so go easy.”

Fiona nodded and moved towards the door.

“You’re not going alone,” said Coben. “These lodgings just went downhill fast.”

“Aye,” said Cameron, rubbing his head. “One star. Wouldnae revisit.”

Aaron looked at Teddy and nodded towards the door. “Greg’s in the other room. Go drag his arse in here.”

“Why me, man? You’re the one with the shotgun.”

“I don’t think he’s dangerous,” Aaron reassured him. “In fact, I think Bill has been terrorising him.”

Teddy sighed. “You sure he ain’t a threat? Guy ain’t all there, if you ask me.”

Aaron handed Teddy the shotgun. “He’s not as much a threat as you are.”

“All right, fine. Who even cares, right? Even people are monsters these days.” Teddy left the room with the shotgun while Sophie continued to aim the other one at Bill, who continued to sob over his wounded wife. Tracey was fading fast, more and more of her blood soaking the floorboards beneath her. Even in the time of paramedics and surgeons, her chances of life would have been slim.

Bill seemed to sense that Aaron was watching him, because he looked over his shoulder and glared. “You killed her.”

“Consequences,” said Aaron. “Even now, they still exist.”

Bill spat on the floor, his crooked teeth glinting. “There’s no right and wrong any more, you idiots. There never was. It was all just a lie we told ourselves. An illusion to convince ourselves we’re not just animals. The strong prey on the weak. That’s it. That’s all there’s ever been.”

Cameron clambered to his feet, palm against his swollen forehead. “Aye, yer right, pal. Pity, yer the one who’s weak now.”

“And we’re the ones who’re strong,” Sophie added, still declining to wipe the blood from her face.

Tracey died, her eyes turning to stone. Bill placed her delicately down on the floorboards and choked back a sob. “I-I don’t care what you people do to me. We’re all dead anyway.”

“Maybe,” said Aaron. “But some will be taking the trip sooner than others.”

Teddy re-entered the room, shoving Greg in the back with the barrel of his shotgun. The young man blinked fitfully and cuddled himself like a frightened child. When he saw Tracey’s body, he whimpered and shook his head in disbelief. It even seemed, for a moment, like he might throw up.

“They killed your dear aunt,” said Bill, having the audacity to act the victim. “They just shot her.”

Greg turned to Aaron, pain in his expression. “I told you not to do anything. This… this could have all worked out okay.”

Cameron shoved the young man against the wall beside the fireplace, for no obvious reason than perhaps a simple thirst for violence. “That option ended as soon as yer fool uncle whacked me on the heid. I have a hard time forgiving things like that, eh?”

The door burst open.

Fiona and Coben returned, but they were trailing behind the girl in the nightdress – Morgan. Aaron saw now that the stains were blood – either her own or her dead sister’s. She was attractive – a brunette with long eyelashes and a wide mouth. For a moment she was expressionless, but when she saw Tracey lying dead on the ground, she turned gleeful. Then she noticed Sophie holding a shotgun and frowned. “Did you shoot my mum?”

Sophie frowned. “What? Um, no, I didn’t.”

“It was him,” said Bill, pointing at Aaron with rage in his eyes. “He shot your mother like a mongrel.”

Morgan turned towards Aaron and nodded. “Thank you.”

“She… She…” Aaron swallowed a lump in his throat. “She was your mam?”

“Believe me, she only qualified biologically. My dad died when Taylor and I were young. Things were okay at first, but then Mum married this…” She pointed at Bill. “This rapist piece of shit.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Bill. “I raised you. No one else would have.”

Cameron kicked him in the ribs. “Shut yer haggis hole.”

Aaron swallowed a lump in his throat. “I-I can’t imagine… How long did he…?”

Morgan shrugged. “When the world ended, Bill and Mum totally lost the plot, started robbing and killing people for food and supplies. When Taylor and me complained, Bill beat the shit out of us and put us in the attic. Once it became clear that things were never going back to how they were, Mum let him have us.”

Aaron groaned. He struggled to look the girl in the eye, which filled him with shame. She had done nothing wrong. “It’s over now. We won’t hurt you.”

Sophie grunted and gave Bill a disgusted look. “You sick piece of shit.”

Bill glared at them, shaking his head as if they were the ones who were monstrous. “Nothing comes for free, especially now. Those two little bitches wanted feeding, protecting… The least they could do was open their legs once in a—”

A gunshot blasted. Everyone in the room flinched.

Aaron’s eye had instinctively closed, and when he opened it again, he saw Sophie holding the shotgun against her shoulder, a wisp of smoke flowing from its barrel.

Bill lay dead on top of his wife, half his head missing.

Morgan froze in place, her mouth hanging open.

Sophie winced as if she had only just realised what she had done. “Sorry, sweetheart. I should’ve let you have the honours.”

Morgan snapped out of her daze with a shrug. “No, that’s okay. There’s still one left.”

Aaron frowned. “You mean… Greg?” He looked to see the young man trembling against the wall, his blue tracksuit suddenly seeming too large on him. Bill and Tracey’s corpses lay on the ground in front of him, lit by the fireplace. Bill’s skull had splattered all over his tracksuit bottoms. When he saw Morgan stomping across the floorboards towards him, he panicked and started begging. “Please. Don’t hurt me. Please!”

“He’s not to blame,” said Aaron. “He was afraid of his uncle. He didn’t want this.”

Morgan shook her head at Aaron as though he were an idiot. “Are you for real? This piece of shit took his turn with my sister almost every night. He used to… he used to bite her.” Her face broke, and she had to take a breath to keep from crying. “S-Sometimes, he bit her so hard that she passed out. Eventually, Taylor was covered in so many bruises and cuts that she died of infection. Greg is as much a monster as his uncle. I was Bill’s and Taylor was his. Possessions, not people.”

Aaron felt sick. He hated to see so much violence, but he couldn’t present an argument about what was going to happen next. In fact, a rotten part of him welcomed it with glee. “Do what you need to do.”

Greg shook his head. “What? No, she’s lying. Please!”

Morgan stooped and picked up the hammer that Bill had dropped. She patted it against her palm and nodded to Cameron. “Hey, big guy. Do me a favour and hold this piece of shit down.”

Cameron raised an eyebrow, and for a second it looked as though he might refuse, but then he let out a sigh. “Aye. This is yer party now, lass.”

Greg squealed as Cameron manhandled him. “Let me go!” He screamed and tried to bite, but Cameron put a stop to it with a brutal backhand.

“Put him on the ground,” Morgan demanded in a flat, emotionless voice. “On his back.”

“Aye.” Cameron shoved the young man down onto his back and held his wrists over his head. “Be sure ye wantae do this, lass, eh? It’s over either way, but ye’ll have to live with the how of it”

“The how is all I have left.” Morgan slithered over to Greg and dropped on top of him, straddling him like she wanted to dry hump him. Her grubby nightdress rode up around her hips and exposed her shapely – slightly skinny – thighs. She glared at Greg like a demon thirsty for his blood, desperate to have it flow between her lips. “You thought you could just get away with it,” she said. “Didn’t you?”

“I loved Taylor. Please, I—”

But Morgan wasn’t having any of it. “Remember all the times you forced your dick into my sister’s mouth, Greg? Remember when I told you I would crush your balls to dust one day? That I would look you in the eye while I did it? Bill beat me black and blue that night for making silly threats. Do you think it was silly now?”

Greg squealed, begging for mercy.

Grinning maniacally, Morgan leapt aside and swung the hammer between Greg’s legs, striking his testicles beneath the thin fabric of his tracksuit. He let out a howl, but it cut off as Morgan smashed the hammer into his groin a second time. The only sound he could make then was an agonised gargle.

Cameron looked sick to his stomach, but he kept the lad’s thrashing arms pinned above his head. Morgan swung the hammer again and again and again until there was nothing but a bloody mess between Greg’s thighs. The young rapist had long since passed out, but his body shuddered and convulsed every few seconds. No telling if he would ever wake up.

Teddy staggered over to the doorway and threw up. Aaron almost joined him.

Sophie propped the shotgun beside the fireplace and approached Morgan. Reaching out carefully, she gathered the girl to her feet and pulled her into a hug. “That’s it, honey. It’s done now. It’s over.”

Morgan buried her head in Sophie’s shoulder. “It’s not over for me.”

Then she unleashed a wretched wail.

Aaron had never heard someone bellow with so much pain, so much sadness. It broke his heart and brought tears to his eyes. He felt guilty for it. This wasn’t his moment. It was hers.

Sophie rubbed Morgan’s back as the girl let out the anguish from months of torture, loss, and pain into her shoulder. “That’s it. You’re with us now, sweetheart, and that means no one gets to hurt you ever again. Anyone tries, I’ll kill them.”

Aaron could tell from the look in Sophie’s eyes that she meant it. She really had changed a lot during the last year.

She’s a protector. And a fierce one.

I’m glad mam was with her when things ended.

Everyone stood and waited for Morgan to expel her pain. They had a new member of their family. Broken and tormented, she would fit in just fine.

CHAPTER FOUR

Cameron’s hopes of making it halfway to Manchester didn’t quite come to fruition. After the grizzly scene at Coulson Manor, the group needed to take things slowly with Morgan, as the girl quickly fell into a near-catatonic daze. They found a new place to rest about half a mile from the park and rested there for a day, in hope that she would recover.

She did so the following morning.

Morgan awoke in the master bedroom of the mock mansion they’d broken into on a site of new builds – a place without history – and she greeted everyone with a glum smile. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, with a burgundy leather jacket looted from a charity shop. After cleaning herself up with bottled water, the difference was stark. Morgan barely resembled the girl Aaron had found in that stinking attic.

Then she had returned the favour of being rescued by asking them an unexpected question. “Hey, do you guys need a car?”

Everyone had frowned at her in confusion.

Turned out, as well as having a passion for old houses, Bill also enjoyed tuning up vehicular relics. In the woods behind Coulson Manor, Morgan led them to a rusty blue people carrier with a roof box. Only Coben recognised it for what it was – a Toyota Space Cruiser.

The ugly blue heap of junk didn’t look like it was going to start.

But it did.

So they hit the road.

It was now a little past two, and they had driven two dozen miles northward since setting off at noon. It was slow going, with so many of the roads blocked or destroyed, but it still beat walking. They’d found a stretch of relatively empty highway, with only a few vehicles overturned and blocking the way ahead.

Morgan spoke little, but she seemed to enjoy being outdoors, gazing out of the open window and letting the wind rush through her greasy hair. With her eyes closed, she looked peaceful.

They were now approaching the southern fringe of Wolverhampton. They had left the highway to avoid a blockage and puttered through an ugly housing estate, full of pebble-dashed terraces and shuttered-up shops. Most of the cars lining the road were battered and old. Poverty wasn’t a thing any more, but this was where it had once lived. It led Aaron to wonder whether the takers had such things as wealth and status. Were they all the same, or did they have a social hierarchy? Was there a government? Or a queen taker like there was with an ant nest or beehive? Perhaps what humanity had faced so far was merely an army of drones, and they were yet to meet the gargantuan brood mother intent on colonising the Earth. The thought sent a shiver along Aaron’s spine.

Coben was driving, his tattooed knuckles clamped around the steering wheel. Fiona sat beside him, hand on his thigh. She gazed at him constantly, happier than Aaron had ever seen her. Perhaps she was trying to enjoy this calm moment. There was no telling how soon it would end.

How soon everything would end.

We can’t let that happen.

Love is enough reason alone to fight.

Maybe there’ll even be someone for me one day. A one-armed beauty?

They exited the housing estate and pulled back onto the highway. Coben didn’t want to push the engine too hard, so he kept their speed to thirty. The modest pace also helped him navigate the wreckages that dotted nearly every road. Decaying bodies peppered the worst of the pile-ups, but after many months, they were little more than skin and bones. At least they didn’t smell any more. In fact, the wind rushing in through the open windows was invigoratingly pure, the coppery tang all but disappeared.

“Something’s up ahead,” said Coben. “Don’t know if we can make it past.”

Aaron leant forward from the rear of the Space Cruiser, which had three rows of seats. Teddy was sitting beside him, while Sophie, Morgan, and Cameron sat in the middle with the shotguns lying across their feet. Somewhat cruelly, Helper was perched inside the roof box, held in place mainly by his low centre of gravity. Aaron had fears of seeing the alien tumbling down the windscreen. It was another reason Coben was taking things carefully.

Ahead, Aaron saw an articulated lorry parked sideways across the highway, blocking both lanes. From the way the central reservation was twisted and bent, the large vehicle appeared to have jackknifed.

Coben brought the Space Cruiser to a gradual stop twenty feet from the obstruction. “What do we think, folks? Reckon we can move it?”

“How we gonnae move that thing oot the way?” said Cameron. “Kick the tyres?”

Coben yanked the handbrake and leant back in the scuffed-up driver’s seat. “I have no idea, but if we don’t try, we’ll have to turn back and come off at a previous junction.”

“Perhaps that would be the best option,” said Sophie. “We didn’t lose that many minutes last time.”

“I agree,” said Teddy. “Let’s just turn around. I’m enjoying the drive, anyway.”

Aaron grunted. “Me too, but every minute counts. We don’t know when the weapon is going to go off. What if we get there a minute too late?”

“It is what it is, mate. We could end up wasting even more time trying to clear the road here.”

Coben nodded. “That’s a good point.”

“Hold on,” said Fiona, and she turned to face the back rows. “That’s a pretty big lorry. Shouldn’t we at least check out the cargo? Could be food. Water. Who knows? We only have the few supplies we found at Coulson Manor. It’s not going to last long.”

Cameron cleared his throat and nodded. “Ye right, lass. It’s worth checking oot, even if we cannae move it. We still need tae eat.”

“Decision made then,” said Coben, and he unbuckled his seatbelt. He hopped out and headed to the side of the vehicle to yank open the sliding side door. “I can check it out myself,” he said as he let in the fresh air, “but this might be a good chance to stretch our legs.”

“I’m coming,” said Cameron.

Aaron shrugged. “I’m good. I’ll stay here.”

The others felt the same. It was nice to just sit and rest for a while. None of them had any particular need to stretch their legs – they had been doing little else but walking for the best part of a year.

“Suit yerselves,” said Cameron, and he slid the door closed again with a bang. He and Coben then walked away, side by side, towards the jackknifed lorry.

Fiona leant over the beat-up dashboard and wolf-whistled. “God, I could eat that man up. Would you take a look at that butt?”

Sophie chuckled, but Teddy groaned. “Seriously,” he complained. “None of us needs to hear that.”

“Let the girl have her butterflies,” said Sophie. “I remember feeling that way about Ryan. In fact, it never really went away.” That caused a silence, and she turned to face Aaron in the back. “You look more and more like him every day.”

“With one eye and a bunch of green veins?”

“Only on the one side. The other side of your face looks just like him.”

Morgan turned around to study Aaron. “What happened to you? I didn’t want to pry, but…”

“No, it’s, um, it’s okay.” God, she was beautiful. Her eyes were so blue they almost glowed. “I got infected in a place far away from here, but we destroyed a corkscrew before the fungus fully took hold of me. Turns out that when you destroy a corkscrew, you kill the fungus that originates from it. The infection died inside me and I survived. Left me a bit of a wreck, though.”

She gave him a lopsided smile and shrugged. “I dunno. You don’t look so bad to me.”

Aaron felt fire in his cheeks. “I, um… thanks.”

Morgan turned back around, but Sophie didn’t. With a crooked smile, she winked at him, which made him blush even more. He also felt ashamed. The last thing Morgan needed was him giving her unwanted attention. After what she’d been through…

Teddy shifted beside Aaron and grumbled. “Used to be I was the one getting all the action. Nothing used to beat being a professional footballer, man, but it looks like the ladies go for the ragged, battle-hardened vibe nowadays.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, surprised to hear such self-defeat from his usually cocky companion. “You’re as battle-hardened as the rest of us, Teddy.”

“Nah, man. I’m just backup. You, Coben, Cameron – Helen, when we were at the canal – you’re all bona fide heroes. You throw yourselves into danger without a thought for yourselves. Not me. I can’t do that. I just do whatever it takes to save my own skin. Always have, I guess. It’s always been about me.”

“That’s not true, mate. Not at all. You’ve been with us since Scotland. If you weren’t brave, you wouldn’t still be alive. Trust me.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Aaron patted him on the back. “What we’re trying to do now will keep humanity from being exterminated. Doesn’t get much more heroic than that.”

Teddy nodded. “Let’s hope we get to ride off into the sunset afterwards. This shit is getting real old. I… I don’t think I can deal with any more blood and death. What happened back at that Manor, in the attic, and what Morgan did to Greg… It’s too much.”

“Yeah, I hear you on that. Makes you wonder what we’re fighting for.” He shrugged. “But then I think about all of us, and how much we have fought to protect each other. We fight for each other, right?”

Teddy nodded silently.

Aaron sat back and looked out of the quarter window at the back of the car. The glass was badly scratched at the bottom, which obscured most of the view, but he could still see most of the highway on the other side of the central reservation.

He wasn’t expecting to see movement. At first, he didn’t believe it.

“Shit!” Aaron started struggling to get over the back of the middle seats, wanting to get out of the vehicle. “Shit, shit, shit.”

When Sophie saw him panicking, she grabbed him to keep him from toppling forward over the seat. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Aaron pointed. “There are people coming with guns. Fiona, sound the horn.”

Fiona saw the threat, too. “Oh, fuck! Coben and Cam have no idea. The lorry is blocking their view.” She leant over the driver’s side and pressed on the steering wheel with her forearm. Thankfully, the horn still worked, and it caused Coben and Cameron to turn around in the middle of the road. Both men frowned in unison.

Sophie clambered over Morgan and slid open the side door. At the top of her voice, she bellowed, “There are bad people coming.”

“We don’t know they’re bad,” said Morgan, shifting back and forth to see out of the windows.

“Get real,” said Teddy. “Bad is all that’s left.”

Aaron watched the men approaching from the other side of the highway. From the way they moved, it was obvious they were hoping to catch Cameron and Coben unawares. Good people didn’t do that. Good people called out and announced themselves. “We need to get out and fight,” he said. “Sophie, grab the shotguns.”

“Hell yeah.” Sophie reached down and grabbed the weapons from the floor. She handed one to Fiona up front and kept the other for herself. She then turned to Morgan. “This ain’t your fight, sweetheart. Get your head down and wait until it’s over.”

Morgan shook her head. “You got me out of that house. I’m not sitting this out.”

Sophie smiled. “Good girl. Okay then, everyone, after three, we get the hell out of this van and take cover on the passenger side. One… two… three!”

They sprang into action.

Aaron threw himself out of the side door and landed on his side in the road. It was a clumsy, painful move, but it got him out of the car quickly. He scrambled around to the other side of the Space Cruiser and took cover. The others were already there waiting for him.

Teddy grabbed his shoulder and looked at him. “You all right, man?”

“Yeah. It’s hard to be athletic with only one arm.”

Helper hopped off the roof and startled them. People. Danger.

Aaron nodded. Even Helper had a bad vibe about the approaching strangers, and Coulson Manor had proven, once again, that the big blue alien had a talent for sensing threats.

Sophie aimed her shotgun around the Space Cruiser’s flat nose, but she didn’t fire yet. Fiona stayed behind cover with the other shotgun, chewing at her lip and shaking her head. Both women had only the shells inside the chamber. Two shots for Fiona, one for Sophie.

Aaron looked over the top of Sophie’s head and saw Cameron and Coben taking cover alongside the lorry. The problem was, they didn’t know from where the threat was coming. They were merely reacting to Sophie’s warning.

The approaching strangers weren’t visible from behind the Space Cruiser, but Helper turned, possibly tracking them.

Then gunshots rang out.

Cameron bellowed something indecipherable to anyone but another Scot. For a moment, Aaron feared his friend had been hit, but then he heard Cameron swearing and knew it was only a close call.

Sophie pulled the trigger and fired her shotgun. From the way she turned the air blue, the shot had missed, and she tossed the shotgun down in disgust, her only cartridge wasted.

Fiona crept around to the rear of the Space Cruiser to take her shot, while Teddy lay flat on the road, trying to see underneath the vehicle. Morgan crouched beside him, her blue eyes wide and fearful.

“Do you see them?” asked Aaron, addressing the question to all of them.

“I can’t see a thing,” said Teddy, now half underneath the chassis.

The Space Cruiser rocked on its hinges as something struck the bodywork on the other side. From the single, heavy thud, it seemed at least one of their enemies was using a hunting rifle. A weapon far more accurate than Fiona’s old shotgun.

Fiona fired off both shots in a single second. A nearby scream signalled a successful hit, but when Fiona turned to face Aaron, she was ashen. “I got one of them, but there are two more.”

“And we’re out of ammo,” said Sophie. “Are both men armed?”

Fiona nodded.

“We’re fucked then,” said Teddy.

Morgan sighed. “Well, at least I won’t die in a mouldy old attic. Bright side, huh?”

Aaron peeped around the front of the Space Cruiser but jolted back behind cover when a round struck the bonnet and ricocheted past his nose. Sophie grabbed him and started patting him over. “I’m fine,” he told her. “They’re close. Right behind the central barrier.”

“You folks are dead meat,” someone shouted from close by. “Dead meat.”

Fiona dropped her shotgun on the floor and crawled over to join the others at the front of the vehicle. “Where’s Coben?”

Aaron peeped again, this time pulling his head in and out of cover in a split second. He groaned. “He’s climbed inside the front of the lorry with Cameron, but those men are right on top of them. If they look inside…”

Fiona clutched at her hair and yanked. “We have to do something.”

Another round struck the Space Cruiser, shattering a window.

“We’re lobsters boiling in a pot,” said Teddy as another round hit the bodywork. “We need to make a run for it or we’re cooked.”

“I’m not leaving without Coben,” said Fiona, and then she shocked everyone by leaping up and heading around to the rear of the Space Cruiser. There, she threw up her hands and called out to the gunmen. “Don’t shoot. We’re not armed. Please, just stop shooting.”

Aaron remained behind cover, frozen with indecision.

A gunshot rang out. Fiona yelped, but it sounded as though it had struck the road.

“I said stop shooting! I surrender.”

Aaron shared a look with Sophie. Both of them were aware of what had to happen next.

Hands above their heads, they stepped out of cover. They were going to have to talk their way out of this. Together.

Teddy remained in cover, but a moment later, Helper and Morgan jogged up to join Aaron and Sophie.

The two armed men were hardened survivors, wearing thick woollen hats and wax jackets. Their hiking boots were top quality, and their well-maintained hunting rifles shone with an oily coating. If Aaron had to describe their expressions, he would use the word furious. The third member of their group was lying dead against the central reservation. A pool of blood was congealing around his head, and his eyes were glassy and unseeing.

“Who are you?” Sophie demanded, not getting the memo that they were the ones without guns.

Of the two men, the one on the left was a foot taller. Older, too, with angular cheeks and pronounced crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. It was he who replied. “We’re the men that’re going to kill you and fuck your corpses.”

“We don’t want any trouble,” said Aaron.

“Or for you to do anything with our corpses,” said Morgan, her lip curling in disgust.

Peace, said Helper, waving his fan.

The man sniffed. “Got a pet alien, huh? He looks like shit, but he belongs to us now.”

“He’s not a pet,” said Sophie. “He’s our friend.”

“How touching. And what’s your deal, kid?” Crow’s feet pointed his rifle at Aaron and nodded. “You about to turn or something?”

“No. I’m fine. I was infected, but I recovered.”

The man seemed impressed by that. “Didn’t even know that was possible. Pity you’re going to end up dying like a dog after surviving something like that.”

“Please,” said Fiona. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You killed Jimmy,” said the shorter man. He had pudgy cheeks and a round belly. “Big fucking mistake. Huge.”

“You were the ones creeping up on us,” said Sophie. “What was the plan? To rob us?”

“Or worse?” asked Morgan.

Crow’s feet shrugged. “Way of the world, darling. Things have escalated beyond that now, though. Gotta put you down. For Jimmy.”

“Jimmy can suck my dick,” said Sophie. “This make you feel important, huh? Robbing and killing innocent people? Doesn’t change anything. You’re still pathetic, little men. Jimmy’s better off dead.”

“All right, Sophie,” said Aaron. “Let’s not aggravate the men with guns.”

“The men without pricks,” she spat.

The shorter, chubby man sneered at Sophie and raised his rifle an inch. “Say adios, whore.”

“Adios,” she said. “You whore.”

The door to the lorry driver’s cabin sprang open and Coben leapt out onto the road. Cameron was right behind him. They sprinted towards the gunmen, clearly hoping to catch them by surprise.

But they were nowhere near fast enough.

Both gunmen raised their hunting rifles towards Coben, who was six feet ahead of Cameron, but still ten feet away from them. No way was he going to make it in time.

Aaron winced, his eyes closing as a gunshot echoed across the asphalt.

Fiona screamed. “Coben! Get down.”

Aaron opened his eyes.

Coben was still sprinting towards the gunmen, one of whom was now lying on the ground with blood leaking out of his head. His partner had ducked into a firing crouch, scanning the treeline beyond the opposite carriageway, his eyes wide with panic.

Coben reached the remaining gunman and shoved him so hard that it sent him sprawling across the road, but crow’s feet was an agile warrior, and he directed his fall into a roll and got back to his feet with his rifle pointed straight at Coben’s face. Coben had no choice but to skid to a halt and put his hands up.

“You’re fucking dead,” crow’s feet spat. “All of you.”

Coben went to duck, but his enemy smashed him in the face with the rifle stock and sent him crashing onto his back. Then he pointed the weapon at Coben’s bloody nose. “Night-night, buddy.”

Teddy raced out from behind the Space Cruiser, screaming at the top of his lungs. It alerted the gunman and caused him to turn. Once again, he was too quick to be taken by surprise, and he drew a bead right on Teddy’s chest.

Aaron knew he was about to watch a friend die.

Another gunshot rang out.

Crow’s feet paused, rifle still aimed at Teddy’s chest. A bewildered expression crept onto his face as he slowly peered down at himself. A wet patch bloomed on his chest, right near his heart. If he was in any pain, he didn’t show it; he just stood there, studying himself and saying nothing. When he eventually looked up again, he lowered his rifle and shook his head at Teddy. “What did you…?”

Crow’s feet slumped to his knees, opening his mouth to speak again, but then the back of his head exploded, accompanied by a nearby echoing clack. A small bead of blood trickled from his forehead and between his eyes.

He fell down dead, face first on the road.

Aaron turned to look at Teddy and then at Coben. Sophie, Morgan, and Fiona turned in circles, searching for another gunman. Helper pointed his fan at the nearby trees. People. Trees.

“What just happened?” Coben ran both hands over his tattooed scalp. “Is someone out there?”

Cameron scratched at his beard and turned a slow circle. “Did somebody just save our bacon, or did we kill these bastards with our wee minds?”

“Who’s out there?” Coben shouted towards the trees. “Who just saved us?”

“That would be me,” said a young man somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties. He had a jet-black rifle with a red band tied around the end of the barrel. He wore all black attire, from his work boots to a baseball cap. Beside him was a wide-shouldered teenager who smiled at them merrily. There was something childlike about the teenager, despite his impressive size.

The man holding the sleek rifle let it hang by its neck strap and gave them all a wave. “Name’s Liam Caffrey. Pleased to meet you.”

Aaron stepped forward and examined the man closer and saw somebody deadly. Pouches and zippers covered the man’s clothing, each one filled with gadgets and equipment. At a mere glance, Aaron spotted three knives secured about his person. Fingernails perfectly trimmed and clean. Rifle glistening with oil and polish. This man was prepared for anything, and it turned Aaron’s mind back to John, a man he’d known only briefly but had learned so much from. In fact, the compass John had gifted Aaron had saved his life.

“I reckon we’re the ones pleased to meet yoo fellas,” said Cameron.

Coben nodded. “We owe you our lives.”

Fiona nodded, too. She was holding herself and visibly trembling, but despite that, she cleared her throat and spoke. “Who were those men? They tried to sneak up on us, but why? Did they want the contents of this lorry?”

The man named Liam shook his head. “That lorry is empty. Has been for months. These guys have been ambushing people out on this road for a while now. I decided the next time they tried it, I would intervene. Seen enough innocent people die because of these reprobates.”

The younger man standing with Liam nodded his head enthusiastically. “The Natives are bad people. But my brother’s gonna put a stop to them.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “The Natives?”

Liam nodded. “This is my little brother, Gavin, by the way – not that he’s particularly little. He and I have been surviving out here on our own pretty much the whole time. The Natives are a group that started appearing about six months ago. I think they formed from a few smaller groups joining together. Guess they figured there was safety in numbers. The thing is, once their numbers grew large enough, they realised they could rob and murder people with impunity. No law to stop them any more.” He motioned towards the nearest expertly shot corpse. “These bastards are just the tip of the iceberg. There are groups of them everywhere, maybe a few hundred in total. Bad news, the lot of them. Anyone decent around these parts has gone into hiding. Or are dead.”

Sophie took a few steps to join the huddle and folded her arms. She gave Liam a questioning look before speaking. “But not you? You’ve decided to hunt them down all by yourself like some kind of dark avenger? Seems a little selfless.”

Liam shrugged. “It’s just me and my little brother out here. What else can we do besides try to make the world a little safer? If there were aliens around here, I’d be shooting at them, but the fungus cleared up months ago.”

Aaron almost explained that it was they who were to thank for that, but decided it wasn’t important right now. What was important was whether these ‘Natives’ would prevent him from getting to Manchester. “We’re heading north,” he said. “Is there a safe route to get there?”

Gavin spoke again. Despite his slightly odd features, and slow way of talking, he seemed to be present and intellectually sound. “We don’t know where all of them are, but they like to rob people on the main roads.”

Liam nodded. “My brother’s right. If you’re heading north, stick to the country lanes or head across the fields. The dual carriageways are a death trap. One ambush after another. Why do you want to head north, anyway? You got people you care about up there?”

Aaron thought about his mam, but she was north of north, and unreachable for now. He had to focus on the threat to mankind, and how he might be the only one to prevent it. “The enemy has a weapon,” he said. “If they set it off, then it’s game over for all of us. It’ll poison the atmosphere and kill what’s left of mankind. We don’t know how long we have, but we need to make it to Manchester and destroy it before it’s too late. The last thing we need is bandits getting in our way.”

Cameron nodded. “Which is why we’re most grateful fur yer help, fella. What are ye, anyway? Ex-army? Special forces? No seen shooting like it.”

“Let’s just say I have a past.”

“My brother kills bad guys,” Gavin boasted. “He’s really good at it.”

Liam blushed and put his arm around his brother. “Gavin thinks of me as some kind of action hero, but the truth is a lot less flashy. We’ve had as much luck as anything else, staying alive out here. All I can say is that we’ve never lost track of right and wrong – unlike a lot of people. Fear and starvation turn men into animals.”

“I hear you there, brother,” said Coben. “Hard times reveal a man’s true character. Thanks again, Liam. You really saved our butts.”

Liam waved a hand. “Don’t mention it. Hey, do you guys need company? Like I said, me and my brother have little else going on. We thought we could do some good by taking out the Natives here and there, but if what you’re saying is true, then we can be of better use helping you destroy this weapon. You’ve already seen I’m useful in a firefight.”

Aaron and his companions looked at one another. They were instinctively mistrustful of strangers, especially since having met Bill – but then there was also Morgan. It was a gamble, for sure, but Liam and Gavin appeared to be on the level. If Liam had wanted to kill or rob them, it was pretty clear he could have. The man had an aura of confidence, as if he had nothing to prove and no reason to lie.

Aaron’s group had no official leader, which was why no one spoke up for a moment, but eventually Cameron offered a handshake. “Welcome to the family, fella. Name’s Cameron.”

Liam shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Cameron. Mind waiting for five while me and Gav grab our packs?”

“Aye. No problem, pal.”

Liam and Gavin took off, melting back into the treeline.

Tension filled the air as everyone waited for them to return. There was an unspoken fear that the two men might return with an army and take everyone hostage, but it didn’t happen. Liam and Gavin reappeared with two giant backpacks and a duffle bag full of supplies. The two brothers were well prepared. Probably for anything.

Everyone hit the road, the group once again grown.

CHAPTER FIVE

They had to double back on the dual carriageway and come off at the previous junction, but it only cost them thirty minutes. The new plan was to stay off the highways because of the Native’s threat.

Coben drove them out of Walsall and headed north-west, skirting around Wolverhampton. They continued on until a little after seven, before deciding to call it a day. Driving in the dark was too perilous.

They found a place somewhere between Stafford and Telford. An old train station. The interior was littered with debris, the air was musty, and a thick layer of dust covered the floor. But it was better than being out in the open, and they were grateful for the respite. Aaron imagined the sound of trains coming and going. The station was empty now, but it would’ve been full of life at one time. The building comprised a single ticket booth, a tiny news kiosk, and a cramped cafe. Piccadilly Station, it was not. Still, they were together, and halfway to their destination. As a bonus, they had avoided a single encounter with the Natives, and collected Liam, Gavin, and Morgan.

By eight o’clock, the sun had been down for a couple of hours, and everyone was sitting around eating sugar packets from the cafe and drinking bottles of water taken from Coulson Manor.

Liam was currently perched on the station’s roof, sipping cold coffee and watching the nearby town through his rifle scope. His brother, Gavin, lay on a sleeping bag in the centre of the public walk-through, reading a dog-eared Harry Potter novel.

Nobody had asked whether there was anything wrong with Gavin, but it was obvious from the way he spoke that he was slightly behind everyone else. He wasn’t stupid, but he was more innocent. Liam was clearly his idol, and it made Aaron miss Ryan more than ever.

What would he think of me now? Would he be proud? Or horrified?

When it came to dead siblings, Morgan’s grief was the rawest. The skinny brunette was sitting cross-legged on top of the cafe’s tiny counter, chewing on a breakfast bar that Liam had given to her. She didn’t seem to be enjoying it. Her blue eyes appeared more grey now, and her shoulders were lower. She was staring into space like a zombie, similar to how she had right after they had rescued her. Shell-shocked was the word that came to Aaron’s mind.

He went over to speak with her, sheepish about doing so. Conversations with Morgan felt… delicate.

“Hey,” he said. “You should try to finish that. It’ll do you good.”

She glanced at him, then down at the half-eaten breakfast bar. “Been a while since I ate something that actually tasted good. My stomach’s not used to it.”

“I understand. So, um, are you… okay?”

She looked him in the eye and frowned. “Do you really want to ask me that?”

He sighed, turned, and leant back against the counter beside her, his feet throbbing as he took the weight off them. “I don’t know. Do you want me to ask you that? Or should I just shut up?”

“No. Don’t shut up. Just don’t ask me if I’m okay, okay? That’s an answer I don’t have the energy to give right now.”

Aaron got the message, yet for a moment, he couldn’t think of what else to talk about. Eventually, he settled on the mundane. “Favourite film? Go!”

She flinched. “Jeez. I don’t think I even remember films, but… I don’t know, maybe John Wick?”

He turned to look at her. “Are you kidding me? John Wick is awesome, but… I guess I thought it was kind of a guy movie.”

“Sexist! Keanu Reeves and a load of cool guns; what’s not to like?”

Aaron nodded upwards towards the ceiling, imagining Liam on the roof. “Looks like we found our very own John Wick today. Liam’s a bit of an Action Man, huh?”

Morgan tittered. “Yeah, he is. You trust him?”

“Yeah, I think so. Don’t you?”

She pulled her burgundy leather jacket around herself, as if she were chilly. “I dunno. Figured you’d be better at reading people than I am.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I trusted your uncle, didn’t I?”

She groaned. “Bad conversation alert. Abort, abort.”

Aaron squirmed. “Shit, I’m sorry. So, um, favourite—”

“Videogame,” she said. “Go!”

“What? Videogame? Oh, um, I suppose I would have to say… Elder Scrolls Skyrim. It was this game where—”

She pulled a face at him. “Everyone knows Skyrim, dude. I played that game to death back when things were half normal. My family was always a complete shitshow, so I used to escape with an old Xbox a friend gave to me. I would set myself up as a wizard, fry a few giants… Heaven. Used to make me feel a little less powerless, I suppose.”

Aaron shook his head, lost for words.

Morgan blushed. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you might be the coolest girl I ever met.”

“I think you mean uncool.”

“Well, yeah, maybe, but that’s what makes you cool.”

She reached out and prodded him. “Too bad all the video games are gone, huh?”

He disagreed. “Not gone. Just abandoned. If society ever gets back on its feet again, you and me can go raid a Game store and grab every title we can find. Spend the rest of our days mixing potions and enchanting swords.”

“Yeah, I think you’ve gone too far into geek territory now, buddy.”

Aaron snapped his fingers and frowned. “Darn, I always ruin things.”

“Also, how are you going to play one-handed?”

“Hey, don’t be ableist. You have no idea the things I can do.”

Morgan smirked. “Oo, I’ll be sure not to cross you, then.”

“Yeah, you’d better. Don’t make me smite you with my mace of eternal suffering.”

“Gone a bit too geeky again there, mate.”

“I should go.”

She waved a hand. “Happy adventuring, geek.”

Aaron smiled and left Morgan with the rest of her breakfast bar. He was half embarrassed and half amused. He was also getting tired, so he decided to do the rounds and check on the others before trying to get some sleep. It was a ritual that reminded him he wasn’t alone, and that others were relying on him. Without that, he might just give up.

He chatted with Teddy for a few minutes, but the lad wasn’t himself. Words came out of his mouth in a lazy drawl, and he stared at the ground instead of looking up. Both his hands were visibly shaking. Aaron wanted to offer comfort, but couldn’t offer any. He would just have to hope his friend recovered his nerves after a night’s sleep.

He’s really struggling.

Aren’t we all?

Yes, but Teddy has lost something. Part of him is missing. Broken. I don’t know how to help him.

Just give him space.

Cameron and Coben were playing a raucous round of cards in the newspaper kiosk with a deck that Gavin had provided. Fiona was snoozing nearby. Sophie had gone outside to get some peace and quiet, and Aaron decided to go join her on the concrete platform.

The moon was full, casting everything in a silvery light.

When Sophie noticed Aaron, she nodded and tutted. “Just waiting for a train. Late as usual.”

Aaron smiled. “Some things never change, huh? What are you doing out here?”

“Thinking about your mam.”

“Oh. Um, how come?”

“We’re heading north again. If we somehow don’t die trying to destroy this weapon from your dream, then we should carry on to Edinburgh.”

“It wasn’t a dream, it was a—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I agree with you. I want to see mam again. It already feels like it might be too late.”

“It’s not.” Sophie said it in a fierce tone. Her blonde hair was dirty, and it flopped over one shoulder like a horse’s tail. “You didn’t see her this last year, Aaron. She’s tough. Tougher than you know.”

That hurt Aaron, and he felt ashamed for not being with his mam when her life had been in danger. He’d let Ryan down, too. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a burden at the start… It almost made him too afraid to face his mam if he ever got the chance. Her better son was dead. “It feels like forever ago that I saw her.”

Sophie sighed. “I wasn’t implying anything, Aaron. My point is only that she fought tooth and nail to survive this last year, and the reason she did that was so she could see you and your brother again. She deserves to see you one last time, Aaron. You deserve it, too.”

“I’m trying.”

Sophie put an arm around him. “You’ve done more than that. The things you’ve achieved… what you’ve given of yourself… I can barely believe you’re the same kid that used to barricade himself in his bedroom with a keyboard and a tub of Vaseline.”

Aaron grimaced. “Soph! Seriously?”

“Hey, I’m your big sis. It’s my job to make you uncomfortable.”

He was going to object, to say that she wasn’t actually his sister, but in all the ways that mattered, she was. Their love of Ryan bonded them. “Yeah, I suppose that is your job. I’m sorry you never got to have your wedding. To think this all started with Ryan’s stag do. I wish we’d never left that weekend. If only we’d all been together.”

Sophie nodded, and her eyes glistened in the moonlight. “Perhaps it was all supposed to happen the way it did. Ryan and I would have just grown old and fat if the world hadn’t ended. This way, I’ll always be in love with him.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll always remember him being a hero.”

A wolf-whistle sounded overhead, and both of them glanced upwards to see Liam standing on the flat roof, looking down at them. His eyes shone like torches beneath the peak of his black baseball cap. “Your alien’s wandering off,” he warned them, and pointed up the platform. There, Helper had wandered to the very end and was staring off at the tree-lined trackway beyond. As he often did at night, he had hunched down low and gone still. On watch.

There was an enclosed, steel pedestrian bridge right at the end of the platform, stretching high over the tracks. It led from the train station’s car park to a group of office buildings on the other side. A waist-high wooden fence separated the platform from the car park.

“Oh, it’s okay,” said Aaron. “He never goes far. He likes to keep an eye on things while we rest. Knowing him, he can hear a threat fifty miles in that direction.”

Liam seemed pleased by that. “That’s good. I came across a couple of the blue aliens in the early days, back when the police were still trying to maintain order, but to tell you the truth, I never learned much about them. It’s good to have help, in whatever shape it comes in. Anyway, I’m gonna keep my post for another couple of hours. Then your man, Teddy, offered to take over. I have to say, it’s good to be with people again. It’s good for Gavin.”

“Have you always looked after him?” asked Sophie, rubbing her neck as she was forced to stare upwards.

Liam crouched, elbows on the inside of his thighs. It made it easier for them to see him. “No. Not at all. I was away for most of his childhood. Our mum and dad took care of him at home, but… well, they didn’t survive the end of the world. Gavin took it hard when they went. Tell you the truth, part of the reason we hit the road was to keep his mind occupied. I’ve been teaching him everything I know. Pretty soon, he’ll be able to survive by himself out in the wild, no matter the conditions. He can build a shelter, hunt for food… He’s really come a long way.”

Aaron smiled, once again thinking of his old mentor, John. Then he saw an opening to ask a delicate question. “Gavin… does he…?”

“Have something wrong with him? Some might say so. Mosaic Down syndrome, although he has an IQ of eighty-three, which is unusually high. He won’t be winning any prizes at a science fair, but he knows what’s what – and what he lacks in smarts, he makes up for with heart. Having him around is like having your own personal cheerleader. Positivity is Gavin’s gift, and right now, it’s about as valuable a thing as you can get. I wouldn’t have made it this far without him.”

“He seems like a good kid,” said Sophie. “And you’re clearly a good brother.”

Liam propped his rifle on the roof, balancing it on the butt of its stock. “I’m trying to be. To tell you the truth, I didn’t have much to do with him before. He lived a small life, you know? Always at home, watching TV, playing board games. Meanwhile, I was travelling the world on all kinds of adventures. It’s only now that I’ve realised he had the best of it. Home, family, security – those are the things that matter most. Getting to know him now is a gift, even amongst all of this horror.”

“You’re right,” said Aaron. “That’s why we can’t let a bunch of space bugs take everything from us.”

“Talking of space,” said Liam, “did you guys see the light show a couple of days ago? It was something, that’s for sure.”

Aaron frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We didn’t notice any lights,” said Sophie, furrowing her brow.

“Huh. Well, I was looking through my scope, so perhaps it wasn’t so obvious to the naked eye.”

“What was it?” asked Aaron, a tiny ember of dread flaring in his stomach.

“A big streak of pink light, kind of like something burning and falling to the earth. Probably just an old satellite coming down, but it sure was pretty.”

Aaron gritted his teeth. His hand trembled. “The weapon,” he said. “It must have been the weapon the takers are planning to set off.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “A package sent via Alien Express? Lovely. Hopefully they forgot to sign for it.”

“Do you know what direction it fell?” Aaron asked Liam.

Liam reached into one of his many pockets and produced a compass. “Course I do. It fell to the north-west of where I was then. Probably due north by now.”

Aaron sighed. “Manchester.”

Liam put the compass back in its pocket and stood up straight with his rifle. “Looks like your fears are warranted. We can set off at first light, so you should both get some rest.”

Aaron nodded. “Thanks for keeping watch, Liam. Have to say, it’s good having you on the team.”

“I like to be useful. Thanks for letting me tag along.”

Sophie put a hand on Aaron’s back and smiled at him. “I’m going to enjoy the quiet for a little while longer.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning, Soph. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be home again. Let’s hope the place hasn’t gone to hell.”

Aaron had bedded down inside the ticket office. The small, square room was carpeted, but not particularly comfy. Still, it was dry and had a roof, which counted as luxury these days. He slept well. But woke suddenly.

It wasn’t yet morning. In fact, it felt like the middle of the night. What had disturbed him?

A feeling.

Aaron got up off the carpet, groaning as his bones creaked and his muscles ached. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep for, but it must’ve been several hours based on the thick haze filling his head.

Thinking of the inside of his head, he sensed something else. Not static, or alien interference, but something foreign all the same. Sadness. Utter, overwhelming sadness that wasn’t his. Was that what had woken him? An emotion?

He crept over to the safety glass window that separated the ticket booth from the main walk-through inside the train station. He saw the vague shapes of his sleeping friends, and he could hear Cameron’s snoring, but nobody appeared to be awake.

Something was off, and by this point, Aaron had learned to trust his gut. It was one of the few parts of him that wasn’t damaged or broken.

He didn’t want to wake his friends unnecessarily, so he went to get some air. The automatic glass doors didn’t work, but they were easy enough to slide apart. He did so carefully, not wanting to make a noise. It was cold outside, so he stepped onto the platform quickly to avoid letting in a chill. His mind went back to the nights of sneaking across the landing at home, creeping downstairs to grab snacks from the kitchen for one of his nightly video gaming sessions. Back then, he’d been afraid of alerting his mother that he was awake at 3 AM on a school night. Now, he was merely trying to let his friends rest. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. Perhaps their last day. Of course, every day carried that risk since the corkscrews had landed, but what Teddy had said before suddenly seemed right. Things were coming to an end.

Outside on the platform, Aaron took a quick look around. Liam was no longer on the roof, which meant Teddy should be on guard duty, although Aaron didn’t see him anywhere. Probably a case of him having not climbed up on the roof and instead being positioned elsewhere. Likewise, Aaron could no longer see Helper at the end of the platform. Eventually, he spotted the alien on the other side of the fence, sitting on top of a silver or white SUV in the station’s small car park. Helper often moved around in the night, moving from one perch to the next. Aaron didn’t know exactly how the alien’s senses worked, but he seemed to prefer to face certain ways and be in certain positions.

So far, from what Aaron could see, there was no reason to be anxious. Everything appeared to be quiet. The night was still. His friends were sleeping soundly. Helper wasn’t panicking. All was well. All was calm.

Then he spotted Morgan on the bridge. He didn’t know how he knew it was her, but he did. It was almost like something was passing through the air between them, crossing the fifty metres as if it were five centimetres. Some kind of invisible tether from her to him. Did the feelings inside his head belong to her? Was her sadness so strong that his alien radar had picked it up? Did grief have a frequency?

Morgan was slumped forward over the bridge’s safety railing, peering at the tracks below. Her long hair flapped in the breeze. All this Aaron could make out despite the distance. Again, he felt somehow tethered to the girl. Attached.

When she climbed up onto the railing, his heart stopped in his chest.

Oh shit. That’s not good.

Aaron raced along the platform, his legs still half asleep. He yelled out for her to stop. His voice was weak, but he caused enough commotion to capture her attention.

Morgan stared at him, shouted at him to go away.

But he didn’t go away. He continued down the platform until he reached the bridge. Its entryway was on the other side of the fence, and with only one arm, he wasn’t great at leaping obstacles. Fortunately, he was so full of adrenaline that he leapt it in one. He then rushed to the steps and started up them, the metal clanging beneath his feet. He reached the top and was relieved to find Morgan still standing on the railing, leaning out from underneath the roof struts.

“Morgan, what are you doing? Get down from there, please.”

She turned to look at him, bare feet clinging to the metal railing. Her burgundy jacket was unbuttoned and hanging off her shoulders. “I-I can’t come back,” she said. “I thought, maybe, that I could be me again. But I can’t. There’s nothing left in this world except the nightmares in my head. Everything I cared about is gone. Every good memory has been replaced by him. The only smell I smell is his breath. The only thing I taste is his sweat. If the world had a future, then maybe… maybe I could try. If there was any point to it all… But there’s not. There’s just not.”

“The world does have a future, Morgan. We’re going to make sure that it does. I can’t lose you when I only just found you.”

She shook her head at him and frowned. “Found me? You don’t even know me. Why do you even care? Billions are dead, so what’s one more?”

Aaron took a step forward, but he didn’t dare take another. He could see from the way Morgan was trembling that she was more than ready to take the leap. The fall was less than thirty feet, but there were no hospitals to fix her if she was unfortunate enough not to die on impact. “I care about you because you’re a good person, Morgan. There aren’t many of us left, so every good person counts for more. And you’re right, I don’t know you, but I want to change that. Every time I talk to you, I forget what a mess the world is. For a moment, I’m just a young kid again, trying to talk to a beautiful girl and making a mess of it. It reminds me that life used to be about more than survival. There used to be love and laughter, creativity and passion. The creatures trying to replace us don’t feel love, they don’t experience joy. They create nothing but devastation. I’ve seen inside their minds.” He let out a sigh as he thought about what an empty place the world would be if the takers won. “You’ve been through hell, Morgan. I can’t even imagine it – even after all I’ve been through myself. The thing is, though, the world needs you to survive, okay? You don’t have to keep going for yourself, but you do need to do it for all those who might one day live a normal life because of what we’re doing right now. Do it for your sister, like I’m doing it for my brother. We can make them proud.”

There were tears in Morgan’s eyes now. Maybe they’d been there the entire time, but Aaron was only now noticing them. “I can’t sleep,” she said, in a voice so wretched he almost understood her wanting to kill herself. “Not even for a second. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. Before, it was easier. Taylor understood, and she needed me to take care of her. Now that she’s gone…”

He took another step forward. “Night is a lonely time for all of us. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night, and I’ve never felt more alone.”

“So what do you do? How do you not feel alone?”

“I haven’t found a way, but perhaps we can sleep near each other at night. Then, when one of us wakes up afraid and alone, the other will be there. If you need someone to watch your back and keep you safe, Morgan, I’d like to be that person.”

“How can I trust you?” She shook her head, and for a moment, it looked as though she was going to jump. Instead, she looked back at him, a breeze lifting her hair. “Every man I’ve ever met has hurt me.”

Aaron looked her in the eye, reinforcing that invisible connection he was sure was there. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a man yet. I’m still working on it. With your help, I can try to become the kind of guy who does more good than bad. If you trust me at all, Morgan, believe me when I tell you that the people you’re with now are decent. Cameron, Sophie, Coben, Teddy… they’ve all sacrificed and given so much of themselves to help other people. If you jump off this bridge, Bill, and all the other evil men in your past, will have won. You’re here and they’re not. Keep living, and stick with us. We have an important task ahead of us, and you need to do your part. It’s not a choice, it’s a duty. So get down off this bridge and come with me, okay? Come be with your friends, because we’ve got you.”

The tears came thick and fast now. Morgan tried to speak but failed. Her words hitched in her throat, so she could only nod. Aaron’s words had got through to her, and his risk of being firm had paid off. Perhaps because he had meant what he had said so sincerely. He didn’t know this girl very well, but when mankind was on the brink of extinction, you got to understand people pretty fast. This was a human being he wanted to be around, and that the world was better for having. Either that, or his gut had finally broken like the rest of him.

Aaron took several steps forward and let out a sigh of relief when Morgan turned and reached out to him. He grabbed her slender hips and she stiffened at his touch, but then she relaxed and flopped into his waiting arm. For a moment, he was holding her and looking into her eyes, but a moment later she wriggled free of his grasp. Physical contact was an issue for her, and he didn’t blame her one bit. He took a step back and put his hand up where she could see it. “Are you okay, Morgan?”

“I told you that’s not a good question.” She pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders and let out a silent shiver. “I’ll survive another night, but that’s all I can promise you right now.”

“That’s all any of us can promise. You want to stay here for a minute, steady your nerves? Or should we go back inside the station? It’s chilly, and you’ve got no shoes on.”

Morgan looked at her feet and wiggled her toes. “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d need them where I was going. Thank you, Aaron. I don’t know if your words will make a difference, but I appreciate you trying. It… It matters.”

“I’ll try again tomorrow and the next day. Just don’t give up. Talk to me – to any of us. We’re all here.”

She gave him a weak smile and moved back over to the railing, propping her elbows on it. “I don’t think you have the time to be my therapist. There’s an important mission we need to complete, right? What do you think’ll happen if we succeed?”

He moved to the railing beside her but kept some space between them. Propping his elbow on the metal in the same way she did, he stared off towards the train station. He searched for Teddy on the roof but still didn’t see him. Helper was still sitting dormant in the car park, like a massively oversized cat. “I wish I could say it would be the end of things, that the enemy will give up, but I can’t predict what’ll happen. All I know for sure is that we fought back way harder than they expected us to, and they’re panicking. This weapon might be their only backup plan. If it fails, it could be their last chance gone.” He looked at her and smiled. “I’m just glad we’re all together. If these past months have taught me anything, it’s that humanity is as much a combined organism as the alien fungus. We’re stronger when we’re together, working as one.”

Morgan chuckled. Then, to his surprise, she snorted back a load of snot and spat it out onto the tracks below.

“That was gross,” said Aaron. “And pretty impressive.”

“See if you can beat me,” she said.

He grinned at her but shook his head. “After all the crap that’s been inside my body, I’d be worried about spitting up a lung. I’ll give you the win.”

She turned and studied him for a moment, looking him up and down. “Does it hurt? All the changes you’ve been through?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I forget my arm is gone. It throbs a little. Same thing with my eye. It’s not there, but it still aches. Most of the time, I feel pretty okay, though. In fact, I’m stronger and fitter than I’ve ever been. Never thought I’d be capable of the things I’ve done, the things I’ve survived.”

Morgan looked away and nodded. “Maybe this was the great reset we all needed. If we survive, mankind can write a new Bible about the things it’s learned.” She let out a sigh, staring into the distance. “Things will never be the same, even a thousand years from now.”

“Well, if nothing else, we got our answer to whether we’re alone in the universe. Answer turned out to be a great big fucking hell-no.”

She looked towards Helper in the car park. “It’s not all bad. There could be other friendly species up there. Who knows, right? He saw me come up here – he actually waved his fan at me. Don’t think he knew what I was planning. Not human enough to understand, I guess.”

“He’s human enough.” Aaron shivered and held himself. “I wouldn’t have made it this far without him.”

Morgan was cold too, so they both turned away from the railing and started towards the steps.

But they turned back to the railing when they heard shouting coming from the station. It was too far away to make out the words, but it sounded like…

Liam’s voice?

“Looks like we’re not the only ones awake,” said Morgan. “Is everything okay back there?”

“Everyone was asleep when I left. Come on, we need to get back.”

They took off down the steps and hopped the fence at the bottom. Then they raced along the platform back to the station house. Inside, they found everybody awake, and a lot of confused jabbering. Only Liam seemed to know what was happening. He had his rifle shouldered and was marching towards the car park exit.

Aaron heard an engine outside. A vehicle driving away. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded. “Liam, why are you yelling?”

Liam turned to face him, spitting with fury. “Your man, Teddy, stole the car keys from Coben while he was sleeping and took off in our van. I was a second too late to stop him. Came back inside to get my rifle. Fucker’s going down.”

Aaron frowned. “Teddy was supposed to be on guard duty, right?”

“Yeah, and he just went AWOL. We have to stop him.”

Everyone raced out of the station house and into the car park. Aaron’s mouth fell open as he saw the Toyota Space Cruiser zooming away, already a hundred metres down the main road and picking up speed.

“Bastard,” Liam growled, and he raised his rifle, eye against the scope.

Aaron leapt forward and shoved the barrel aside just as Liam took the shot. The high-powered round ricocheted off the pavement and launched into the sky. Chips of concrete peppered their ankles.

The Space Cruiser crashed over a kerb to get around a parked Land Rover.

And then it was gone, disappearing into a side street.

Liam turned on Aaron. “What the hell? That’s our transportation driving away. I could’ve taken out a tyre at the very least. If we want to get to Manchester in time to stop this weapon of yours from going off, we need to move fast, right? Well, our mission has gone down the shitter.”

“You could have missed and hit Teddy,” said Aaron, refusing to be cowed. Liam was the newbie. He had less reason to be upset than anyone else.

“First,” Liam growled, “I don’t miss. Ever. Second, that guy is screwing us all over. He stole our ride. Not to mention most of the supplies we left inside it. My stuff was in that van.”

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose and thought for a moment, but he couldn’t get it to make sense. Teddy was a part of the group. He’d been with them for only a couple of months. And yet… “Teddy’s been wavering for a while,” said Aaron. “I should have paid better attention. He gave us everything he had. It’s not his fault that it wasn’t enough. Let him go.”

“Are ye kidding?” said Cameron. “I’ll wring his scrawny wee neck if I catch him.”

“Me too,” said Sophie. “He’s a dead man.”

Fiona was shaking her head and leaning against Coben. “I can’t believe he did this to us.”

Aaron looked at Morgan and thought about what she’d been preparing to do only minutes ago. “He’s family, and family screws up sometimes, but if we turn on each other every time one of us fails, we won’t make it. Teddy’s too broken to be what we need him to be right now, and we shouldn’t blame him after everything we’ve all faced. We can only hope that he has time left to make up for it.”

Cameron grunted. “Yer a better man than me, lad.”

“Aaron’s right,” said Coben. “Teddy has a lot to answer for, but he’s still a human being. It won’t save him from an ass-kicking, but let’s hold off on cutting his throat for now.”

Sophie folded her arms. “As long as it’s a serious ass-kicking. I’m not as forgiving as I used to be.”

Morgan looked at Aaron and smiled. The tiny nod she gave told him he had been right to choose forgiveness. People were weak and scared and selfish, but it didn’t make them bad. Teddy wasn’t their enemy, and Aaron needed to hold on to something besides anger. Forgiveness was a part of being human – a part he wasn’t willing to let go.

Still. I probably won’t object to Cameron smacking Teddy around a little bit.

We really needed that car. Time is running out, and now we have to walk. Thanks for that, Teddy.

“Everyone grab their things,” said Aaron. “We’ve had all the sleep we’re going to get for tonight.”

CHAPTER SIX

As the weak March sunlight rose behind the buildings, Coben spotted fresh oil on the road. They had been walking for nearly two hours, but hadn’t made it that far. The oil was fresh. Teddy had driven this way.

He was crouched in the middle of the road, rubbing his soiled fingers and thumb together in a circle. “He hit a kerb during his escape,” he said. “We all saw that, right? Must have punched a hole in something vital.”

“Karma,” said Liam, running a hand over the top of his rifle as though it were a pet. “He’s probably broken down by now.”

“If that’s the case,” said Aaron, “then perhaps we should try to follow the trail. It might lead us right to him.”

Cameron nodded. “Aye, and then I can get me hands on the wee shithouse.”

Aaron shook his head and sighed. “We can find Teddy and see what was going through his head when he screwed us over.”

Coben straightened up, knees clicking. “I might be able to patch the van up if all that’s wrong is an oil leak. We could be back on the road again by this afternoon.”

“I would prefer that,” said Fiona. “Even going out of our way, it’ll still save us time in the long run.”

Gavin grinned. “I want another road trip.”

Liam rubbed his little brother’s large, round shoulders. “It was pretty fun yesterday, huh? I take it your vote is to reclaim the van?”

Gavin nodded.

“Okay then,” said Aaron. “Let’s follow the oil leak, if we can. Maybe we can repair both the van and our relationship with Teddy. He’s one of us, right? We shouldn’t just forget about him.”

Cameron grunted. His shaved red hair was growing out, making him look fluffy and a little less hardened. “Ye English will send me loopy with all ye bloody feelings. All right, fine, let’s go find Teddy-boy so we can forgive him and smother him in kisses.”

Sophie nudged Cameron and smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ll let you rough him up a bit before we ever forgive him.”

Cameron actually beamed at that. It left Aaron wondering if the big Scot could ever turn on him for any reason.

No, because I would never do what Teddy has done. Part of the reason I want to catch up to him is because I need to know what the hell he was thinking, because right now it makes no sense. How could he screw us over like this? We’re family. All we have is each other.

Teddy warned me he was only out for himself. I should’ve listened.

The group tracked the leaking oil for several miles, losing the trail now and then but always finding it again later down the road. It seemed too easy, a stroke of miraculous fortune that Teddy had hopped a kerb during his escape, and that they had fallen upon the oil slick almost as soon as the sun had risen. If they’d taken a different road when they’d first set off before dawn, they might have lost Teddy forever.

Assuming the oil is actually coming from the Space Cruiser. We could be tracking a madman in a tractor for all we know.

They found the Space Cruiser an hour later.

The bulky people carrier was parked up in the distance next to a bright red Royal Mail delivery van streaked with black ash. Straight away, Aaron got a bad feeling.

Where’s Teddy? Has he set off on foot?

Did the van break down? Or did something else cause him to stop?

The Royal Mail van sat sideways across a narrow section of road leading up to a pedestrian crossing. It was wedged between the metal railings on either side. An obstruction.

A trap?

Liam crouched and peered through his scope, scanning left and right, peering up at buildings and down at the various piles of wreckage. “It seems all clear,” he said. “I don’t have a target.”

Despite his assurances, everyone crept cautiously along the road. They had entered a small village centre with a post office, mini-supermarket, and community hall. The road was narrow, barely wide enough for two cars to pass. A great place for an ambush.

When he neared the Space Cruiser, something didn’t sit right with Aaron. The rusty blue vehicle was different somehow. Something had stained the back window, and one of the rear tyres was flat.

“W-What is that?” asked Fiona, crouching beside Coben. A lock of hair had fallen loose from her ponytail and was now covering her face on one side.

Liam walked in a crouch, rifle held at the ready. “It’s the Natives. Another one of their ambush sites.”

Gavin grabbed at his hair and moaned. “Get them, Liam. Teach them a lesson.”

Liam put a hand on his brother’s wrist. “Easy, Gav. Let’s just stay quiet and check things out, okay? There’s no one here right now, but they might be close by.”

Aaron turned to Helper and asked the alien if he sensed anything. Helper lifted his fan and turned a half circle back and forth. Blood. Death.

“Grand,” said Cameron. “Sounds aboot right.”

Liam moved to the side of the road and crouched lower. He scanned the buildings again, eye pressed against his scope. “Everyone stay alert. I don’t like this. Damn place could be a kill corridor.”

“Maybe we should backtrack,” said Sophie. “If this feels off…”

“We need that van,” said Coben. “Even with a bust tyre, it’ll be quicker than walking the rest of the way to Manchester. I can plug a leak and refill it from that Royal Mail van if I have some time.”

“We need to find out what happened to Teddy,” said Aaron. “He might be in trouble. Everyone, take cover. I’ll check out the van.”

“Be careful,” said Morgan, giving him a supportive nod.

Aaron nodded back at her, then crept over to the Space Cruiser.

The vehicle’s back window had been smeared with red paint – a circle with a slashed N in the centre, reminiscent of an anarchy symbol. It could mean only one thing: the Natives.

The symbols were all over the Space Cruiser’s bodywork. The sliding side door was hanging open and Liam’s backpacks and duffel bag were gone from inside. If only they had thought to bring everything inside the train station overnight. Stupid.

Teddy might’ve made a run for it on foot. The Natives could have arrived afterwards and simply vandalised the Space Cruiser for shits ’n’ giggles. But something about the scene was too familiar, too similar to what had happened back on the dual carriageway.

An abandoned vehicle blocking the road. This time, a bright red Royal Mail van.

Teddy had been taken – or worse. Ambushed at this very spot.

We need to get the hell out of here.

An air horn sounded, conjuring memories of football matches or days at the speedway. This wasn’t a football match or a motorbike race, though. It was something else.

Aaron stumbled backwards, just in time to see the rear doors of the Royal Mail van springing open and two men leaping out. He turned and ran, ducking and zigzagging. His friends yelled at him from nearby. He heard Helper panicking. Danger. Enemy.

A gunshot.

Something zipped right past Aaron’s ear. He tripped and stumbled, falling against the kerb and bashing his elbow. Pain exploded up his arm, a shock wave of nausea blasting through his entire body. He scrambled forward, not daring to look back.

Another gunshot.

Ahead, Liam’s rifle kicked like a mustang, and someone behind Aaron screamed. Cameron, Sophie, and the others hit the ground, going prone and trying to reach cover. Other than Liam, they were all unarmed.

Aaron finally risked a glance back.

One of the two men who had leapt out of the Royal Mail van was now dead, a smoking bullet hole in his forehead. The other wielded a crossbow and was frantically loading another bolt.

Someone knelt in the middle of the road, teetering back and forth. Gavin.

Gavin had a metal bolt sticking right out of his chest. He was shaking his head in confusion and sobbing to himself quietly.

Liam saw his brother and squealed. “G-Gavin?”

Gavin looked sideways at his brother and whimpered. “Liam… it hurts.” He put a hand to the bolt, wrapping his fingers around it. “It hurts.”

Liam threw up an arm. “No, Gavin, don’t—”

Gavin yanked the bolt out of his chest with a sickening pop. It was like flicking a switch. All the light went out of his eyes and he slumped sideways. Blood seeped from the wound, staining his shirt, and then pooled on the ground beneath him.

Liam bellowed in anguish and broke cover, standing up straight and marching straight towards the Native with the crossbow. The man aimed at Liam and fired off a bolt, but Liam turned his shoulder and let it sail harmlessly past. He held his rifle at waist height and didn’t raise it as he marched straight at his enemy.

The crossbowman panicked, hurrying to load another bolt.

Liam jammed the barrel of his rifle into the man’s sternum and knocked the wind out of him. “W-Wait,” he begged, but Liam pulled the trigger and sent the man sprawling backwards into the Royal Mail van’s open rear. The way he landed on his back with his legs dangling over the bumper almost made it look like he was having a nap. Except smoke rose from his stomach where the rifle had blasted a hole straight through him.

Liam turned and raced back to his brother, dropping to his knees and cradling Gavin in his arms. “Brother? Brother, speak to me.”

But it was too late.

And then things got worse.

From the upper floor of the post office building, a sniper appeared and started taking potshots, nearly hitting Fiona and Coben. At the same time, a pair of men on horses galloped down the road in the distance. The air horn had summoned reinforcements. Both of the riders had shotguns.

The sniper took another shot, missing Aaron by less than an inch and causing him to leap aside. He then ducked into a sprint and raced away from the Space Cruiser, heading back down the road the way he came. The doors of the community hall sprang open, and another man with a crossbow appeared. He unleashed a bolt that would have hit Aaron if he still had both arms.

“We need to get out of here,” Coben yelled, and he grabbed Fiona by the arm and pulled her along with him.

“Run for it,” screamed Morgan.

“Aye,” yelled Cameron. “Get ye bums oot the fire. Go!”

And they did. With enemies seemingly everywhere, there was no time to plan. They all sprinted as fast as they could to wherever their legs would take them. By the time Aaron stopped running, thirty minutes later, he was completely alone.

Aaron leant against an old-fashioned telephone box – one of the red ones you always saw on jigsaws and postcards of England. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen one, and it made him think of how much the world constantly changed, even without alien invasions.

He had run at full speed for thirty minutes. Early on, he’d nearly taken an arrow to the back but had managed to put enough distance between himself and the Natives that he could now stop and take a breather. He didn’t know where his friends were. He was alone and exhausted.

It took several minutes to catch his breath, even with his apocalyptic cardio regime. It might have been the fastest he’d ever sprinted – having needed to outrun a hail of bullets and arrows.

The others could all be dead. I didn’t see what happened to them. Did they run in the same direction as me? I think Morgan did, but who else? Cameron? Fiona? Sophie? Coben?

Where the hell are you?

Aaron felt for Morgan most. Since rescuing her from the hell of Coulson Manor, they had led her into two ambushes. She might have been better off where they had found her.

No. She’d rather be dead than that.

She almost was dead. If I hadn’t woken up, she might have killed herself last night.

Aaron closed his eyes and tried to sense something, to detect the location of his friends or maybe sense their emotions like he had last night with Morgan. But there was nothing inside his head except the echo of his own laboured breathing.

Got to think this through. How do I find my friends?

And what about Teddy? Is he even still alive?

Aaron looked around, trying to find his bearings. He was still in the same village, but nowhere near where the ambush had taken place. Houses lined both sides of the street, some well-kept, others not. It wasn’t an affluent hamlet full of cottages and farmhouses. It was more a small town, full of pubs, takeaways, and terraced housing. The only things that showed it was a village were the copious amounts of greenery between the small clumps of buildings, and the fact the narrow roads were bordered by pleasant stone walls that never would have survived in a busy town.

Now that Aaron had a little breathing room, he needed to make a choice. Did he head back the way he came, hoping to meet up with the others? Or did he continue to flee from danger? If he ran any further, the chances of finding his friends would become slimmer and slimmer. There were no more mobile phones to call each other on, and they hadn’t agreed upon a meeting point. Might the others continue towards Manchester? Or would they retreat south to Birmingham?

No question. Aaron knew his friends. They would continue with the mission. There was no other choice. Too much depended on it.

Back into the fire I go.

Aaron’s only chance was to stay hidden, so he moved over to the side of the road and hopped up onto the pavement. He stalked through front gardens and slipped through alleyways whenever he could find them, trying to stay out of sight. No sign of the enemy, but he was learning that the Natives were good at appearing out of nowhere and causing havoc.

They killed Gavin. Shot him right through the chest with a bolt.

Aaron had barely known Liam’s younger brother, but it was another murdered sibling, joining Morgan’s sister and his own brother, Ryan. He sympathised with Liam and tried to imagine how he might have made it out of the ambush. The guy was a certified badass, but Gavin’s death had struck him down with grief. Would he have even defended himself when the Natives closed in? Would he have even resisted?

Gavin was his reason to keep going.

Aaron ran his hand through his hair, pulling out bits of grit and grime. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt clean. Even at Cannon Hill, with the water from the pond, he had felt dirty the entire time.

He started his walk back towards danger. Aaron had no idea what time it was, but it felt like noon. The weak sun was high in a sky that was almost back to its earthly blue. Would that increase the taker’s desperation and force them to activate their dirty bomb? If the weapon activated, would he even know it? Would it wipe everything out in a flash? Or would he slowly choke to death over the course of many days? There was also the possibility he’d been dreading – that his former infection would allow him to adapt and survive while every human being on Earth died. Aaron Cartwright, last man on Earth, surrounded by the monsters that wiped out humanity?

It was a fate worse than death.

Everywhere Aaron looked, he saw graffiti. The Natives had left most of it, denoted by their anarchy symbol. What could lead people to completely abandon their morals? Had they ever even had any? Did people used to behave purely because of the threat of punishment? Had Bill been right about people being no better than animals?

No. Animals don’t rape and torture.

People are the worst species. A scourge.

Aaron sighed and shook his head, reminding himself that not all people were bad. In fact, during the last year, he had met some of the very best. So many of those decent souls were now dead, and it stoked his anger. Boon. Helen. Miles. John. Not to mention Ryan and his closest friends. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Aaron had heard Loobey’s laughter or Sean’s enthusiastic banter. He missed them all. He missed their flaws and weaknesses, because now was a time where only brutal strength and ruthlessness survived.

After ten minutes of walking, Aaron stumbled upon a child’s playground. The spongy floor had weeds growing through it now, and one of the swing seats was missing, but otherwise the equipment was in good shape. Echoes of children playing took shape in Aaron’s mind, and he let out a sob as hard reality came crashing down on him: the realisation that it was never coming back. Any of it. No matter what happened next, the old, oblivious joys of mankind were never going to return. The takers had enlightened humanity in the most terrible of ways.

Is a blind man surrounded by lions better off than the one who can see?

Aaron moved over to a four-seated seesaw and sat in its middle, putting the back of his hand to his weeping eye. His body shook, the emotion taking on a physical form and battering his ribs. The wretchedness of existence washed over him, but it felt good to get the toxicity out of his system. Every tear carried with it exhaustion and despair. The emotion reminded him he was human, but he was glad to expel it all the same.

He didn’t hear the footsteps until it was too late.

He went to turn, but someone ordered him not to and placed something against his back. “You’re in the wrong part of town, sunshine.”

“I was born in the wrong part of town. You gonna shoot me in the back, or let me face you like a man?”

Whatever was poking into his back removed itself, which Aaron took as a sign that he could turn around. Slowly, he put his hand in the air and stepped off the seesaw. When he faced the other way, he saw a middle-aged man in a thick woollen jumper snarling at him.

“Shit, boy, you look like something my dog dug up.”

Aaron huffed. “You’re not exactly Ryan Reynolds yourself.”

The man didn’t have a gun as Aaron had feared, but he did have a machete. “You with the Natives?”

“Of course. Only game in town. Now, tell me where your supplies are.”

Aaron licked his lips and hesitated to speak. The man clearly didn’t know about the ambush in the village, and was assuming Aaron was a lonely survivor on the road. “I, um, left my supplies back over that way. I’m staying inside an old house.”

The man looked in the direction Aaron had pointed. “What old house? How many of you are there?”

“Just me. Everyone in my group died a long time ago. Been alone for what feels like forever.”

The man sniffed. “Take me to your place. Play nicely, and I might even take you to HQ and give you a chance to plead your case.”

“What? And become a Native?”

The man shrugged. “Kill or be killed out here, sunshine.”

Aaron nodded, playing along. If the man thought he wanted to join his gang, then he might relax and let down his guard. “Okay,” he said with an agreeable nod. “I’ll show you where my stuff is.”

“No funny business.” The man reached out and prodded Aaron in the chest with the tip of his machete. It hurt, and caused a spark of anger to flare up inside him, but he managed to hide it. This pathetic excuse for a human being intended to rob him? Seriously?

He has no idea who I am. What I’m capable of.

Aaron pretended to lead the man to a place where his imaginary supplies were. To keep him from growing suspicious, he tried to make conversation. “My name’s Aaron. What about you?”

“Keep it moving. If I wanted small talk, I’d visit a hairdresser.”

“Sorry, it’s just been a while since I last spoke to another person.”

The man glanced at him, a step behind and to the right. “So how did you know about the Natives then?”

Shit! He’s caught me out. “Your, um, signs are everywhere, and I found a warning written on a sheet of paper inside an old burger place. Said you were dangerous and that I should avoid you.”

“You don’t know the half of it, sunshine. What burger place?”

Aaron shrugged. The last thing he wanted to do was give specifics and get caught in a lie. “Just some independent place, not a chain. More of a pub, now that I think about it. So how many Natives are there?”

“Hundreds.”

“How did you survive the invasion? All the infected people?”

The man swiped his machete back and forth as if he were cutting imaginary vines. “Just took care of ’em. Bunch of us barricaded ourself at a prison. Walls did most of the work for us. Plenty of supplies, too.”

Aaron looked at him, a little more wary. “You were a prisoner?”

“Nah, I was a screw. The staff at my prison let the biggest scumbags starve in their cells, but we let some of the more decent ones out to help defend the place. There were a few hundred of us, and after the fungus went away, we absorbed a few more groups. The prison became our first HQ, but now we have dozens all over the place. We’re going to take back the entire country eventually.”

“You know… you know the aliens are still here, right? They haven’t gone away.”

“Figured as much, but they must be dying out by now, right? I mean, the fungus just up and died one day, which can only be a good thing. It’s like that film, where the aliens catch a common cold from our atmosphere and die out. They might have invaded our home, but they can’t keep it.”

Aaron nodded and tried to look as if the man’s assumptions impressed him. Ironically, he was pretty close to the reality of things. What he didn’t know, however, was that there was a doomsday weapon due to go off. If he knew that – and believed it – he wouldn’t be wasting Aaron’s time.

Time to put a stop to this.

“Just round here,” said Aaron, and he headed for an alleyway between two rows of houses. “It’s an old cottage a few blocks down.”

“Wait!”

Aaron froze, just at the edge of the alleyway’s entrance. His plan was to get the man into a confined space and then smash him against the wall. In a fair fight, Aaron would be at a disadvantage with only one arm and little peripheral vision, but if he attacked unexpectedly, he might be able to choke the man or bust his knee.

Why had the man told him to wait, though?

“Um, what’s up?”

“I live in this village, sunshine. There’s nowt through this alleyway but an old shot blasting factory and some old train tracks. You’re lying to me.”

“What? No, I’m not. I-I’m just a bit lost.”

“Bullshit.”

“Yeah… Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just get this over with.” Aaron grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted, causing him to yelp in pain. His face turned red and he fought back. Both of them struggled for control of the machete, knowing that death would befall the loser.

“You just fucked up, sunshine.” The man tried to circle around behind Aaron, trying to twist his legs and topple him, but Aaron turned with him. “You don’t know… who… who you’re messing with.”

“Same,” said Aaron, and he headbutted the man in the face and made him scream. But, despite the unexpected blow, he didn’t let go of the machete. In fact, he started to overpower Aaron – heavier, and with two arms instead of one.

Aaron grunted, trying with everything he had to keep the machete at bay, but the more he fought, the weaker he got. The man summoned a smirk. “You asked my name earlier? It’s Steve. Just thought you should know the name of the man who’s about to kill you.”

Aaron’s legs slipped from underneath him and he was falling. Steve went with him, both hands around the machete’s handle. Aaron struggled desperately to keep the blade from entering his flesh, but the fall winded him and left him dazed.

Steve straddled Aaron, placing all of his weight on top of him. A look of triumph filled his eyes as he positioned the knife over Aaron’s throat. Grinning like a hungry wolf, he said, “Don’t fight it, sunshine. Just let it happen.”

Aaron could smell the sweat and dirt on Steve, and the oily scent of the knife about to kiss his skin. He heard Steve’s breathing and his own heart pounding in his ears. Was this really it? The end?

“No…” Aaron grunted. “Don’t.”

The machete hovered over his throat, the sharp edge kissing his windpipe. One sudden lunge and his neck would part like uncooked sausage meat. He was going to die alone, and with the knowledge that the whole of humanity was soon to follow because of his failure.

“Hey, mister?”

Steve turned. A brick met his face.

Aaron gasped as the machete fell away from his throat and Steve tumbled aside. He threw the man off of him and scrambled to his feet. He turned, and before he knew what was happening, he watched Morgan smash a brick into Steve’s face for a second time, putting a dent square between his eyes. The man spoke a few jumbled words and then stuck his tongue out comically. He died like that, blowing an eternal raspberry.

Aaron was panting from exhaustion and terror. He’d been sure he was about to meet his death, but, like so many times before, he had somehow avoided it. Even now, his luck was yet to run out.

Morgan tossed the bloody brick aside and helped Aaron to his feet. There was a strange glaze to her expression, as if she wasn’t quite there, but then she snapped back to reality and gave a thin-lipped smile. “You really have a talent for finding trouble. Do you know that?”

He nodded, out of breath. “I-I owe you one, Morgan. Fookin’ hell, that were close.”

“Good thing we agreed to have each other’s back, huh?”

Aaron glanced at Steve’s twitching body. The man’s face resembled a pepperoni pizza. “Where did you even come from?”

“The alleyway. I was walking nearby and heard fighting. I came running, hoping it was you.”

“That’s insane.”

She shrugged. “When everyone ran, I headed in the same direction as you. You were too fast, though, so I couldn’t keep up. I just kept going in the same direction, hoping to eventually catch up to you. Good thing I did.”

“A moment later, and you’d have been catching up to my remains.”

She reached out and tapped him on the arm. “So what’s the plan, Batman?”

He thought for a moment and took the chance to catch his breath. “We pray that our luck holds out, and that we can find the others in one piece. Sound good?”

Morgan shrugged. “Lead the way.”

Finding Helper was an unexpected miracle, but then the alien explained it. Aaron. Hear. Find. Helper’s inhuman senses had allowed him to track Aaron via sound, probably hearing his footsteps from a mile away.

Aaron was overjoyed to be reunited with Helper, but things got even better once he saw Cameron, Coben, and Fiona. Everyone had scattered in separate directions, but Helper had proceeded to gather them all up, one at a time. The group was almost back together. Only Teddy, Sophie, and Liam were still missing.

“We have to find them,” said Aaron, arguing with Cameron as they took shelter inside a weed-covered coach. A thick layer of mildew coated its windows.

“I’m no saying we shouldnae, lad, only that it may be a fool’s errand. For all we know, they never made it oot of the ambush. And what aboot this weapon? We could end up wasting time we no have to spare.”

“I agree,” said Coben, and he turned to Cameron sitting on the rear bench seat. “I agree with everything you say, brother. But it changes nothing. We can’t abandon one of our own. If there’s any chance Sophie, Teddy, or Liam are still alive, we have to go find them.”

Cameron tipped forward and put his head in his hands. Letting out a long sigh, he said, “Aye, I reckon we do. Just so long as everyone knows it’s a bad idea.”

“Oh, we do,” said Fiona. “It’s the worst, but that’s our specialty. So, does anyone have a plan?”

Aaron frowned at her. “When do we ever have a plan?”

“I say we just sneak our way back to the Space Cruiser,” said Cameron. “Maybe we’ll find the others along the way. At the very least, it’ll give us a chance to get the drop on one of them Natives. Might be a good way to get ourselves some weapons. This time we can ambush them.”

“It’s risky,” said Aaron. “What if Sophie raced off in a different direction entirely?”

Coben glanced out of the mossy windows, as if he’d heard something out there, but then he shrugged. “We don’t have a better option. If we head back to the Space Cruiser, at least we’ll know, one way or another, whether the others made it out of there alive.”

Fiona groaned. “So we’re heading back to see if we can find the corpses of our friends?”

“Friends,” said Helper in his own voice at the front of the bus. “Find.”

Morgan cleared her throat. She was standing in the middle of the aisle, seeming reluctant to confine herself to a seat. With a nod of her head, she motioned at Helper. “Can he not tell us whether they’re alive?”

Helper had barely managed to squeeze inside the coach, but he was too wide to fit into the aisle. Aaron turned and took a few steps towards him. “Hey, man, do you know if Sophie is alive? Teddy? Liam?”

Helper tilted slightly, making him look inquisitive. He then raised his fan and vibrated it rapidly. A fuzzy image appeared, and as he moved the appendage back and forth, the image shifted. It showed bodies, shapes moving, people. Nondescript. A little like a radar image, pulsing every two seconds and refreshing.

Aaron squinted at the unclear image. “Are those our friends?”

People. Humans.

“But you don’t know which people?”

“There’re too many moving,” said Coben. “It must be the Natives.”

Morgan folded her arms. “Well, at least Helper can warn us if they’re nearby, right?”

“He didn’t stop us from being ambushed earlier, did he?” said Coben. “We can’t rely on him to warn us.”

“He gets tired,” said Aaron defensively. “If he were to keep his senses on high alert constantly, it would exhaust him. We’ll ask him to check the coast is clear every ten minutes or so. Hopefully that’ll give us enough of a warning.”

Coben nodded, seeming content with the argument.

Aaron eyed the upholstered seats and wanted to lie down on them, but he forced himself to re-energise and straighten up. Sophie needed him. He had failed Ryan, but he wouldn’t fail her. She was the only thing left of his old life – at least if he never got to see his mam again. “Okay,” he said, “let’s get going. Every minute counts.”

They filed off the coach one after another and ducked into cover at the side of the road. The area they were in was badly damaged, buildings looted and every window broken. Several burned-out cars contained desiccated bodies covered in weeds, while others lay out in the open. Birds swooped and landed on their exposed innards, plucking worms and insects from the dry flesh. Aaron watched with disinterest. After a year, the dead were little more than scenery.

As discussed, they had Helper check for danger every ten minutes or so. After half a dozen times, the static-laced images weakened, becoming more and more difficult for him to sustain. Fortunately, the coast remained clear and the group made their way through the centre of the village and back towards the Space Cruiser. After a while, they saw enough recognisable landmarks to know exactly where they were going.

“The ambush site is right up ahead,” said Coben. “I remember passing that little supermarket right before.”

“Okay, everyone take cover,” said Cameron, and he moved over behind a twisted metal bus shelter. Everyone joined him there, and Aaron asked Helper to check the way ahead.

This time, Helper slumped towards the ground, and it took him several attempts to get his fan going. It stuttered several times before producing a cloudy image that was barely recognisable. There was, however, something moving in the image. A single person.

“Could that be one of ours?” asked Coben. “Liam maybe?”

“It’s too fuzzy,” said Fiona. “It looks… It looks like there’s someone just up ahead.”

“Could be a Native,” said Coben. “We need to find out.”

“How?” asked Morgan. “There’s no way we can work it out from the image.”

Aaron put a hand on Helper’s shoulder, which prompted the alien to lower his fan and relax. “I have an idea,” he said. “I’ll head out into the open while the rest of you hide. Once the stranger identifies themselves, I’ll leave it up to you what to do next.”

“Are we sure there’s only one person up ahead?” asked Morgan. “What if we walk into another ambush?”

Coben shook his head. “The enemy scattered, trying to hunt us down. I bet this single person is a guard they left behind.”

“Or it’s one of our guys hiding,” said Cameron.

Aaron headed alongside the coach. “Guess we’ll find out. Follow along behind me, but stay out of sight.”

“All right, Little English. Dinnae get yeself shot, eh?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Aaron hurried on ahead, looking around to locate the stranger. He tried to focus on his thoughts, to see if he could sense anything unfamiliar, but his mind had been clear since last night when he had stopped Morgan jumping off the bridge. She was the only human being he had ever connected with in that way.

A few steps ahead, and the bright red Royal Mail van came into view. Then the Space Cruiser parked up against it. The Natives’ crude symbols still covered its rear window.

Gavin lay in the middle of the road, an inert slab of human flesh. Even from a distance, Aaron recognised the pale, stiff pallor of lifelessness. There was no sign of any other bodies, though. Liam had not died beside his brother. Either that or they had moved his corpse. And hadn’t Liam killed two of the Natives during the ambush? There was no sign of those corpses, either.

Aaron eyed the nearby buildings, trying to spot the stranger that was more than likely now watching him. The doors to the community hall were still open, revealing an empty wooden-floored space inside. The doors at the back of the Royal Mail van had been closed.

A potential flaw in Aaron’s plan presented itself. What if the stranger just decided to shoot him? What if a sniper took his head off without a word?

I suppose it would be a good way to go. Not even knowing about it.

Aaron’s heart hammered in his chest. He felt a strange vibration on the back of his neck as he imagined a gunman watching him through a scope.

“Hold it right there,” someone barked, and they stepped out from behind the Royal Mail van. It was a tall young man in his early twenties, surprisingly clean and well put together. His wiry arms held a professional-looking bow and arrow – a metal affair painted a luminous yellow and green with a strange cylinder jutting out the front. From the way the man positioned the arrow’s fletching against his cheek, he was clearly practised in using the weapon.

Aaron put his hand in the air. “I’m just passing through. Who are you?”

“Don’t play that shit. You think I don’t recognise a one-armed man? You’re one of the guys we’re looking for. Get down on your knees, and then you’re going to tell me where your friends are.”

Aaron did as he was told, but feigned ignorance. “I don’t know where they are. I’m looking for them. Did any of them get hurt? Please, tell me.”

The man lowered his bow, but he could still loose an arrow quickly if Aaron tried anything. “If your friends gave themselves up peacefully, then they’ll probably be drinking hot soup at HQ by now. We’re not monsters, after all. If they have any use to us, we’ll keep them alive. You, however, don’t have tits or two arms to work with, so I think you might end up going the same way as that retard over there. It ain’t personal.”

Aaron looked back at Gavin’s body and groaned. “What about his brother? What happened to him?”

“You mean the psycho with the rifle? I dunno, but he’s a dead man when we find him. Same as your buddy over there. He tried to fight back, too. We don’t like that.”

Aaron frowned. “What? Who…?”

His words trailed off as he noticed something that should have been obvious much earlier. It was only now, from his current angle, that Aaron could see Teddy hanging from a lamppost a few dozen metres past the Royal Mail van. A thick gash ran from his sternum to his groin, and his stomach and intestines had splatted out onto the road. From the diluted colour of his skin, he’d been dead for hours. “We tortured him for over an hour, and he never said a word about any of you, not until we shoved a hot needle in his eye. Spilled everything after that. Not met a man yet who hasn’t. We knew you were coming.”

Aaron swallowed back bile and gritted his teeth. He couldn’t keep himself from glaring at the man with the bow, wanting to burn a hole in him with pure hatred.

The young bowman obviously sensed Aaron’s anger because he took a step back. “Hey, you stay where you are or you’ll end up in an even worse state.”

Aaron leapt to his feet. “Fuck you!”

“I said stay down!” The man pulled back on his bow and let the arrow fly.

Aaron dodged aside and let it sail harmlessly past.

The bowman swore and immediately reached into a quiver at his hip. He was going for a fresh arrow, but Aaron pounced and grabbed the light metal shaft before he could get it free.

They started to struggle, but with the heavy bow in his grasp, Aaron’s enemy had only one hand with which to fight. For once, the odds were fair, and Aaron was far more used to being physically hampered. He held onto the arrow and stepped in towards his enemy, snapping back his head and crushing the young man’s nose. That was all it took. The sudden, unexpected assault caused him to stumble back and grab his face. He let go of the arrow.

Aaron yanked the arrow out of the quiver and jammed it into the side of the man’s neck. It went in deep, a sharp point on a thin metal shaft, and pulling it back out again was difficult. Aaron had to heave to get it free. Once he did, a jet of blood splurged out of his enemy’s neck like a high-powered hose.

The bowman fell to his knees, trying in vain to stop the blood. His eyes bulged with terror. The bow clattered onto the road beside him.

Cameron and the others appeared seconds after it was all over. The bowman was dead, leaking out onto the road. Aaron stood staring at Teddy, shaking his head in disgust. Once again, humans had proven themselves to be worse than animals. Even in a war over resources, there was no reason to hang a person up and disembowel them. It was the wickedness of a unique and vile creature. A creature capable of both love and hate, compassion and remorselessness. For the first time since climbing down off a lonely hill and entering the village of Choirikell, Aaron thought that perhaps mankind deserved to lose.

“Jesus, Little English. That was brutal.”

Aaron didn’t reply, he just nodded towards Teddy.

When the others saw their friend’s remains, they deflated in unison. No one spoke. No one could look away. Eventually, Coben picked up the colourful bow and took the dead man’s quiver. “These guys are monsters. If they have Sophie or Liam…”

“We’ll find them,” said Aaron. “I know where they are.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I met a man earlier who mentioned a prison,” said Aaron. “That’s where the Natives hide out. It’s where they would take prisoners. Um, for obvious reasons.”

Coben nodded. “Okay. So, how do we find this prison?”

Once again, they turned to Helper. The big blue alien was tired, but Aaron made it clear how important it was that he helped them. Following a moment to build up his strength, Helper raised his fan and scanned left and right. Gradually, he honed in on one direction, and a fuzzy image came in and out of focus, as if he were changing distances or frequencies. The image showed a group of people, pulsating blobs of static moving like ants.

Aaron patted Helper on the arm and stood to face the indicated direction. “So we head that way.”

“This is a suicide mission,” said Fiona. “But after what they did to Teddy, I’m ready to take them down with me.”

Aaron sighed. “He wouldn’t give us up. Not until they tortured him past breaking point. He betrayed us, but he didn’t deserve this.”

“No,” said Cameron. “He didnae.”

Coben shouldered his requisitioned bow and placed the quiver at his hip. He then reached over to take Fiona’s hand. “You want to stay here? You don’t need to take this risk.”

“Hell no. I want to make these monsters pay. If we don’t fight back and punish them, they’ll keep on doing what they’re doing. Then, what is the point of it all? What are we even fighting for?”

“Exactly,” said Aaron. “They can’t get away with this. But we need to do things quickly. The taker’s weapon is still our primary focus. If, for whatever reason, we find out that Sophie is dead, we need to take the loss and get out of here. We can deal with the Natives later with the help of the army.”

Everyone agreed. They wanted to rescue Sophie, and Liam too – if he was in need – but if Sophie was dead, then a fight wasn’t worth it.

So they set off in the direction Helper had indicated.

After thirty minutes, they spotted a road sign advertising HMP Congley. Only a mile away. Dusk arriving, they kept to the shadows around buildings and vehicles, taking things cautiously. Fortunately, the road opened up and left little room for an ambush. They were on the constant lookout for Natives, but they only found one. And he was already dead.

Coben stood over an old man with an N symbol scratched into his forehead – and also painted on the back of his woollen waist-length jacket. He was wearing a pistol holster but had no pistol. There were also a couple of loose rounds in his pocket. Whoever had killed him had taken his weapon.

They carried on, seeing no reason to mourn a dead stranger with troublesome allegiances.

It took them only another thirty minutes to reach the prison. There was no doubt about what it was when they saw it, even in the low light of evening.

The facility was small, not a full-blown holding centre, but more a low-security kind of place. The surrounding brick wall was only ten feet high, and there were no guard towers for rifle-toting guards. No razor-wire topped the wall, only long strips of plastic rollers that would make climbing an utter pain. The front gate was a sliding metal panel with only a single guard protecting it. It was currently slid wide open.

“We should approach slowly,” said Coben, unshouldering his bow and taking out an arrow. “That guard might have binoculars or a scope.”

Dead, said Helper, looking down the road towards the gate. Cold.

Aaron frowned. “What do you mean? Are you saying that guard is dead?”

“I think…” Fiona cupped a hand over her eyes. “I think he’s right. Look, he’s not moving at all. He’s slumped up against the wall.”

Dead, said Helper again with the use of his fan, and then with his own voice. “Fresh dead.”

“Someone killed that man we passed, too,” said Aaron. “Do you think…”

Morgan nodded. “That someone got here before we did?”

“Well,” said Cameron, eyebrows lowered, “let’s go shake their hand.”

They hurried up the road, picking up speed once they realised the guard was indeed dead. They stopped briefly to inspect him when they reached him, but a single clue presented itself. A gunshot entry wound placed perfectly between the eyes.

Everyone looked at each other, but it was Morgan who voiced what they were thinking. “Liam?”

A high-powered gunshot echoed from inside the prison.

Aaron rushed through the open gate and found a single two-storey building in front of him. It could have been an office building if not for the bars on the windows. This had clearly been a place for lesser offenders.

Another gunshot. Followed by screaming.

“Jesus!” said Cameron. “Sounds like there’s a massacre going on.”

They headed for the building’s main entrance, where they had to step over another dead guard – this one shot right through the heart. They then followed the sound of gunfire, now coming from more than one source. It led them along a lengthy corridor with offices on either side. Aaron kept expecting to come up against a barred entryway, but there were none. Eventually, they passed through a reception area that led into another section of the prison, one that resembled a cheap hotel, with small, carpeted bedrooms on either side of a long corridor. Several guards lay dead, and in some of the rooms, bedraggled women and children cowered.

“What the hell is this place?” asked Aaron, peering in through the various windows.

“You know the answer to that,” said Morgan, angry and disgusted. “A place where only men are in charge.”

“Not for much longer,” said Fiona, wincing at a gunshot nearby.

They followed the noise and entered an open space, with a large-screen TV and lots of comfy chairs. There was also a pair of pool tables, and taking cover behind one of them was Liam. His rifle was slung over his back, and he was firing from a pair of handguns. Men shot back at him frantically, white-faced and terrified. Half a dozen bodies were strewn about the tiled floor, their blood oozing out in all directions.

Aaron gasped, stunned by the carnage.

At the back of the room, a door flew open. A man stumbled backwards, clutching his face and losing his balance as Sophie marched out of the cell after him and shot him in the chest with a shotgun. When she saw Aaron and the others, she yelled at them. “What took you so long?”

Liam leapt over one of the pool tables and shot a man in the face at point-blank range. He then did a balletic sidestep that included a spin and positioned himself behind another man who barely missed shooting him with a small handgun. Liam grabbed the man around the throat and shot him in the eye. Before his body could fall, Liam grabbed it and used it as a shield as he took aim at another man and shot him right in the Adam’s apple. Next, he attempted to shoot a third man, but the handgun in his free hand clicked empty. Roaring, he flung the pistol and hit the man in the head, who then turned and stumbled away in a daze. He wielded only a knife, so Liam threw his corpse shield away, produced another handgun from his waistband, and shot the man right in the back of the head as he attempted to flee.

Another Native snuck up behind Liam, about to get the drop on him.

Coben stepped forward and loosed an arrow from his bow. It pierced the man right between the shoulder blades and dropped him.

Three more men in the room sprinted for safety, none of them armed with anything besides blades.

Sophie, still standing by the cells, yelled out to someone unseen, and suddenly skinny men and women exited the various cubby holes and common areas. Several children were present, all pale-faced and wide-eyed. “You’re free,” she shouted at them. “Get yourselves together and head north. There’s safety in Edinburgh.”

There were two dozen people at least, and more and more pouring out of the cells. Some of the men picked up dropped weapons, while the women cradled the frightened children.

Shouting came from further inside the facility. It didn’t sound friendly.

An older woman grabbed Liam and thanked him, even though he looked half-crazed. He didn’t seem to even see her as she warned him, “This is only a small group of them, there are hundreds more. You need to leave with the rest of us before they find out what’s happening.”

The man, Steve, had earlier warned Aaron that the Natives were a sizeable group. If there were others in the prison, they might regroup after Liam’s sudden unhinged attack. Likewise, there could be men coming in from all over the region. There was no telling how thinly spread the Natives were, or if hundreds of them were in the area.

Aaron grabbed Sophie as soon as she got close. She had blood on her face and a crazy look in her eyes like Liam. “We need to leave,” he told her. “We have everyone now. Except Teddy. He…”

She nodded. “I know. He didn’t make it. I saw right before they captured me. The Natives are a bunch of murderers and rapists. We have to come back here. We have to take them all out.”

“We will. But that’s a fight for another day. If we stay here, they’ll regroup and surround us.”

Sophie turned and shouted. “Liam, we have to go. Come on.”

Liam nodded, despite still looking crazed. He raced past them, reloading his single pistol with a fresh clip. Everyone followed, heading back the way they’d come.

At the front of the prison, the captives were spilling out everywhere into the night – a hundred people at least. Slaves and chattels. Amongst the group was a pair of Natives, yelling at the escapees and waving knives threateningly. Liam marched up and pressed his handgun against one’s temple and pulled the trigger, lighting up the dull, late afternoon sky with a violent muzzle flash. He then spun around and used his palm to bash the other man’s nose bone up into his brain, saving a bullet. There was no emotion in Liam’s eyes as he switched off the lives of his enemies.

They exited the prison and ran. Not running out of fear, for they were the ones now to be feared, but running because they couldn’t avoid another delay. The clock was ticking.

The weapon was going to go off soon. Aaron could feel it.

They had to get to Manchester. If it was the last thing they ever did.

They passed west of Stoke-on-Trent after a couple more hours of walking. Cameron had broken his watch during the action of the last twelve hours, so they didn’t know the time for sure, but the sky had abandoned grey and made a deal with inky black . Fiona yawned constantly, as did Cameron.

“We’re almost in Manchester,” said Aaron, feeling oddly familiar with the ruined world around him. This was almost his neck of the woods now. He was no longer an Englishman in Scotland or a Manc in Birmingham. He was nearly home. The north-west was where he had been born and bred. He could virtually taste the hotpot already. “We can make it there in a few more hours.”

“And then what, lad? We’re dead on our feet, eh? And all oot of daylight. We need time tae get our heids screwed back doon.”

Cameron glanced at Liam, who he was really worried about, even if he didn’t say it explicitly. The man hadn’t spoken a word since leaving the prison. He just stared at the horizon, scanning for things to kill, a crazed look still in his eyes. It put everyone on edge. Even Cameron was jumpy around him. None of them had ever encountered someone so deadly. So capable. And now so broken.

“We don’t know what we’re walking into,” said Fiona. “It’s about to get dark. The city is probably overrun with greens and takers.”

“We destroyed the corkscrew in Stoke,” Aaron argued. “It should be all clear now.”

“Do you really believe that?” Fiona folded her arms and shook her head at him. “You think the enemy has this great big weapon and no one to guard it?”

Aaron sighed. “I guess not, but if we waste any more time, it might end up being too late.”

“Way I see it,” said Morgan, leaning back against the bent metal pole holding up a 30MPH speed limit sign, “is that we’re probably only going to get one chance at this. Best we give it our best shot, don’t you agree? I hate to whine, but I spent the last few months locked in an attic. I don’t have the stamina the rest of you do. My legs are about to give up on me. If I walk into a fight, I’m not going to last more than a minute.”

Aaron’s own legs were hurting, and he could only imagine what they’d be like if he’d been sedentary for months. “Okay,” he agreed. “We’ll rest up for the night, but I think we should get moving a few hours before dawn arrives. We can’t waste any time.”

Cameron nodded. “And ye know where we’re going once we get there, eh?”

“Oh yeah. I know exactly where the weapon is. I saw it.”

“Let’s stop at the next supermarket, then,” said Coben. “Or whatever else looks stable enough not to fall down on our heads.”

And so they carried on walking for thirty minutes more until Morgan spotted a Burger King with a broken side window. It allowed them to get inside easily, and they were able to fill the hole with aprons from the kitchen and held them in place by stacking up tables and chairs. It was a flimsy barricade, but it would keep out the night-time chill.

They then checked around for food, but the burger patties were mouldy, and the chicken meat was festering with all manner of creepy-crawlies. On the plus side, there were vats upon vats of soft drinks, so they grabbed as many calories as they could through cola, lemonade, and some orange stuff that only Cameron could stomach. Helper never ate, which posed a mystery no one had the answer to.

Finally, everyone settled down on the padded benches inside the booths. Their narrowness made it an art to balance, but everyone was used to worse.

Aaron didn’t sit for now, however, and instead stood with Cameron near the kitchen’s staff entrance. Both of them stared at Liam, who lay by the fire exit, eyes open and staring at nothing.

“You think he’ll be okay?” asked Aaron.

Cameron shrugged. “Ye were okay after Ryan.”

“Not really.” He looked at Morgan, who was trying to sleep, slumped forward over a table. “We all deal with grief differently, I guess. Some of us give up, some of us get angry, and some of us… act differently.”

Cameron kept his voice low, which was always a struggle for him. “Like going on a one-man killing spree, ye mean?”

“I suppose that was Liam’s way of dealing.”

“Disnae look like he’s dealing very well to me, Little English. In fact, he looks ready tae go Burke and Hare on us in the night.”

Aaron frowned. “What?”

“Nowt. Just saying: no many men frighten me, laddie, but I’m gonnae sleep with a wee eye open tonight, eh?”

“I don’t…” Aaron eyed Liam, trying to spot a spark of life in his morose expression. “I don’t think he would hurt us. We’re not his enemy.”

“No sure he even gets who the enemy is right now. This is all just a war zone tae him. Fella’s shell-shocked, and the only thing keeping him grounded was caring fur his wee brother.”

“You think? We don’t know for sure that Liam was in the army.”

Cameron shook his head and sneered. “Dinnae be soft. That fella is ex-SAS if ever I met one. At the very least, a marine or a para. Ye no learn tae kill like that anywhere else.”

Aaron saw no reason to doubt it. The way Liam had moved back at the prison – showing no signs of fear or hesitation – displayed an intense level of training in the art of killing. Aaron and his companions had learned to survive one step at a time, but Liam had been given an upfront education, merely bolstered by the world ending. Along with that education, he had clearly also gained emotional scars.

But how deep do they run? Is he dangerous to us?

We’re his friends.

He barely knows us. He might even associate us with the fact that Gavin is dead. If he kicks off, I’m not sure any of us will be able to stop him.

Aaron nodded and told Cameron that he agreed. “You and me will have to be on our guard tonight. Anything happens, we need to be ready.”

Cameron clapped him on the shoulder. “Is it too much to hope fur things to go right fur a wee while?”

“Yeah,” said Aaron. “I think it is.”

Aaron awoke in the middle of the night, like he had so many nights before. He had obviously fallen asleep, but only lightly, the anxiety keeping him at the edge of wakefulness. As a result, when he heard a noise, he hopped immediately to his feet and almost bumped into Cameron.

“Did ye hear that, lad?” he whispered in the dark.

“I’m not sure what I heard. Something woke me up.”

“We planned on this, did we no?”

The two of them had armed up before bedding down. Cameron brandished a long metal skewer, while Aaron held a bulky high-powered LED torch he had found in a small office at the back of the kitchen. It was a stubby weapon, but heavy enough to knock a man out cold. The key was getting up close enough to use it.

Before Liam shoots me in the face.

But Liam was still asleep. Almost childlike, he was lying with his hands tucked together beneath his cheek, knees tucked up and ankles under his butt. Aaron waited a moment to see if the man was faking, but even if he was, his rifle was lying harmlessly across the table in front of him.

Aaron and Cameron frowned at each other. Something had woken them both, but what?

A scraping noise sounded over by the broken window, where the tables had been stacked. Something had caused the top table to shift.

Then the entire stack came clattering down.

Everyone sleeping was now awake. Morgan jumped to her feet, screaming and clawing at an invisible enemy. Coben raised his bow and nocked an arrow, looking around blindly for a target.

“What’s going on?” Sophie yelled, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “The fuck!”

Something appeared in the broken window. A taker. Fat arms, sinewy torso. Seven feet tall.

But it was just a distraction.

While everyone looked towards the broken window, another on the opposite side of the restaurant burst open, destroyed by the super-pressurised air from a pulse. Glass shards hurtled into the centre of the restaurant, peppering everyone’s backs. Aaron felt a pinch at the rear of his neck. His hand came away soaked with blood.

Liam braced his rifle against his shoulder and fired at the first taker he saw, striking it directly in the centre of its many-eyed face. To Aaron’s astonishment, the creature fell down dead. Then Liam whipped around and shot the second one in the chest, sending it back through the broken window. Coben followed up by loosing an arrow that embedded itself in one of its fleshy legs. It let out a squeal and retreated into the shadows.

Then all went silent.

“I-Is that it?” asked Morgan. She was trembling. Her first encounter with the takers. “Are we safe?”

Aaron was trembling, too, a mixture of shock and tiredness. The torch rattled in his hand, like it was asking to be switched on. Cautiously, he walked over to the broken window and lifted the torch to shoulder height. With his thumb, he slid the switch and cast an ultra-bright beam into the car park.

“Oh shit,” said Sophie, stumbling on her heels.

A dozen takers stood in the car park, surrounding the front of the building. Never had Aaron faced so many at once. “They know I’m in here,” he said.

This close to Manchester, the enemy had managed to get a lock on him again. An unfortunate downside to his psychic connection with them. It meant he was on the right path, but he was now unlikely to reach his destination.

Helper had his fan up and was panicking, hopping back and forth frantically. Enemy. Evil. Takers.

“Everyone be ready,” said Cameron. “Spread oot and take cover.”

Liam raced up to the broken window and took a shot with his rifle. As always, he hit his target, exploding the head of a taker. He pulled back the lever and loaded fresh rounds into the chamber. Not once did he make eye contact with anyone else in the room.

Helper raised his fan and directed an invisible force at one of the takers and caused it to convulse. Coben nocked another arrow and loosed it.

The takers closed in, spreading out in the car park, lifting their arms, ready to fire their pulse weapons.

“We need to get out of here,” said Aaron. “We can’t beat this many.”

Cameron backed up against him, fists clenched. “Aye. We need tae make a break fur it.”

“How?” said Morgan nearby. “There’s a dozen of them out there, at least.”

“There’s a fire escape in the kitchen,” said Aaron. “I think it leads right out onto the road.”

Another window shattered, a ballet of falling shards. A taker appeared in the space, and Helper directed his fan towards it, weakening and disorientating it. While it was held in place, Liam took aim and blew its face off.

A pulse obliterated the air from the opposite side of the restaurant, sending tables and chairs flying. A pair of takers filed in through the gap and immediately honed in on Helper, one of them raising a lumpy arm towards the big blue alien.

Helper faced his enemy, but his fan hung limply by his side. He had nothing left.

The air shimmered.

Liam leapt at the taker and buried a long, narrow blade in its chest. The knife stuck, and he twisted it back and forth with his left hand, trying to wrench it free. With his right hand, he pulled a handgun from his belt and placed it against the taker’s face. Before he pulled the trigger, he looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with Aaron. “All of you, get the hell out of here. Go on. Run!”

Liam pulled the trigger and obliterated the taker’s face, its skull shattering like a dropped vase and spraying blood and bits of bone everywhere. He then turned to acquire a new target, but the other taker clubbed him in the ribs with its bulbous limb. The crack of his snapping ribs echoed off the tiled floor, and he crashed sideways into a table and then bounced off onto the floor. He tried to roll back onto his feet, but the taker swung its limb at him again and struck him in the thigh.

Helper backed off, for once choosing not to help. Perhaps he couldn’t and knew it.

Sophie, Morgan, and Fiona gathered together, back-to-back. Coben loosed another arrow at a taker entering near the restaurant’s entrance. Then he joined the three women, ready to leave. Only two more arrows in his quiver.

“I’ll see you in hell,” Liam roared at the taker standing over him as he lay crumpled on his back. He held his handgun at the ready, pointing it at the taker’s face.

Aaron took a step to help Liam, but Cameron grabbed him and pulled him back. “Into the kitchen, lad. We cannae help him now.”

As if to confirm, Liam looked at Aaron and again ordered him to run.

Two more takers entered through the broken window and closed in on Liam. He did his best to fight back, emptying his handgun into the closest taker, but after that he was defenceless. All three takers raised their limbs towards him. The air shimmered.

Liam muttered, a steely expression on his face. “Fear does not control me. Anger does not distract me. I am a righteous man with the strength to do what’s necessary. I dare to win, and death itself cannot defeat me.”

Coben loosed one of his remaining arrows and struck one of the takers in the chest. It stumbled backwards into a second taker, which then sent out a wayward pulse that hit a third, reducing it to exploding atoms. It opened up a small window of opportunity. A chance for Liam to escape.

Liam looked shocked not to be dead. He stared at Coben in confusion and then started to drag himself across the tiles.

Coben shouldered his bow and leapt forward.

“Coben.” Fiona moved to grab him, but Sophie pulled her back as more takers flooded into the restaurant. Where had they come from?

Coben made it to Liam and gathered the wounded man to his feet. He then started helping him towards the kitchen. But Liam was bent in two, his ribs smashed to pieces. Blood stained his lips. It took him great effort to place one leg in front of the other.

Fiona cried out, panicking. “Coben! Coben, hurry. Get away.”

Coben smiled at her, his arm around Liam’s waist. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll never leave y—”

Both Liam and Coben disappeared. There one second, gone the next. A taker stood in the bloody mist where they’d been standing, its arm raised.

Fiona’s body shook and her mouth went wide. Then she let out an almighty, ear-piercing scream.

“Gone,” said Helper, in a tone that was eerily human in its sadness.

Sophie grabbed Fiona hard around the arm. “Come on. We have to go. We have to go.”

Everyone dragged Fiona, still screaming, towards the back of the restaurant, and then hurried through the staff entrance into the kitchen. In the darkness of night, the stainless steel corners and surfaces glinted like cat’s eyes. Several times, Aaron collided with unseen equipment, but he didn’t let it slow him down. Reaching the fire escape, he threw himself at the horizontal bar and barged his way out into the fresh night air.

The main road was empty. All the takers were inside or around the front of the restaurant, smashing their way through the windows. Had Liam and Coben distracted them long enough to keep them from realising Aaron and the others were escaping? Would they be able to navigate their bulky bodies through the kitchen?

They were going to find out.

“Head for the houses over there,” said Morgan, pointing across the main road.

The group fled into the night, two members smaller than it had been just five minutes ago.

CHAPTER EIGHT

They headed through a leafy housing district, finding cover in the unpruned bushes and unkept trees. It was a road lined with solar lamp-lit mansions, a place where people played billiards in game rooms and drank port on the patio. It was as much an alien world to Aaron as anything else he had seen. But it was safe for now.

It would only be a matter of time until the takers tracked him down again, and he wondered if he could turn off his psychic connection, or at least lower the volume. If he was sending out a constant alien GPS signal, then he was putting everyone in danger.

Coben and Liam are dead because I led the enemy right to us.

Fiona was crying hysterically. Sophie tried to calm her down. Both women were currently lit up by a tall, solar-powered lamppost at the end of a block-paved driveway. Morgan was nearby, looking lost and unsure of what to say. Everyone was shaken up. Fiona and Coben finding love in the middle of the apocalypse had given them all hope that humanity could endure even in the worst of times. Now those hopes had been dashed.

“H-How did the enemy know where to find us?” asked Morgan. “It was dark inside that restaurant. We were sleeping.”

Cameron glanced at Aaron, but then turned and looked at the ground.

“They can track me,” said Aaron. “They have a connection to me. It started back at Cannon Hill when—”

Aaron staggered backwards, barely registering the pain as Fiona’s fist collided with his mouth. His lip mashed against his teeth and his tongue tasted blood. A spark of rage nearly ignited a fire inside him, but shock quickly dampened it. Shock and guilt. He saw the anger in Fiona’s eyes, the tightness of her jaw, and he could see her agony. “You get everyone around you killed!” she screamed. The orange glow of the solar lamp made her look like a vengeful spirit. “You’re poison!”

Cameron grabbed Fiona around the waist and yanked her away from Aaron. She kicked out and landed a parting kick that sent him staggering backwards again. This time he couldn’t help but let a snarl escape his lips. “Liam was surrounded! Coben shouldn’t have tried to help him.”

Fiona shook her head at him, her eyes wide and her teeth on display. “Maybe we should’ve left you then, during one of the countless fucking times we saved your ass. Coben was brave and decent. He was beautiful. And he died trying to save another human being. You drag everyone down with you on your goddamn quests, Aaron. Fucking Cartwright brothers. I wish I could go back to the day the two of you walked down off that hill, because meeting you was the worst day of my life.”

“Come on,” said Sophie. “That’s not fair. We all know who the real enemy is. Let’s not turn on each other.”

“Fuck you, Sophie. You’re probably glad Coben’s dead. Your boyfriend’s gone, so mine should be too, right?”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “That’s utter shite.”

Fiona squared up to her, and once again Cameron had to drag her back. “Easy, lass. We all feel yer loss. We’re family.”

Fiona shrugged free of his grasp and stepped away. “Not anymore.”

“Where are ye goin’?”

“Anywhere but here.” She marched away down the tree-lined road.

Helper groaned and used his voice. “Fi–ona.”

Cameron took a step after her. “We cannae let her go.”

Aaron reached out and stopped him. When he spoke, his words were sloppy, his mouth still bleeding and his lip swelling. “Let me.”

“Are ye kidding? I no think she wants to speak tae—”

“I’m the only one who can fix this, Cam.”

Aaron moved away before Cameron could stop him, and he broke into a jog to catch up with Fiona.

She was marching down the centre of the road, with expensive double-garaged houses on either side of her. When she glanced back over her shoulder and saw Aaron following, she growled and started walking faster. But he caught up to her easily enough, although he kept some distance between them. He didn’t fancy another smack in the gob.

“Fi, please. Don’t leave. Hate me all you want, but this is your family.”

She stopped and turned around, snarling at him. “Family? You and Sophie are family – maybe – but I’ve only known her a matter of months. Morgan, I’ve only known a matter of days. Cameron is the only one I consider family. He’s the only one I can rely on.”

“That’s not true. Fiona, I would never do anything to hurt you. I lost a brother in Scotland, but I picked up a sister. Look, I fucked up. It felt safe, but I didn’t think about the takers finding us. What can I do to make it right? I cared about Coben, too.”

“Not like I did.”

“You’re right. But think about how we met Coben. We got every person he cared about killed back at that swimming bath. He forgave us. He forgave you and fell in love with you. Do you think he would want you and me to turn on each other like this?”

She looked away, which to Aaron meant he was getting through to her. Whether it was enough, though, was yet to be seen. “I can’t take any more death, Aaron. Teddy gave up because he couldn’t take it any more. And he was murdered by people. Not aliens. Not monsters. Just ordinary, piece-of-shit human beings. All the good parts of the world are dead.”

Aaron hesitated. “Remember when we talked about how this might not be about us? That maybe we’re going through all of this pain so that future generations don’t have to? You want to give up, then fine. Give up being afraid and sad and angry. Give up on having any kind of future for yourself. But don’t give up on stopping this weapon. Even if we’ve lost everything, we need to make sure that we at least take the fucking enemy down with us.”

Fiona shook her head and let her shoulders drop. “Everything I had left, I gave to Coben. Without him… I just don’t care any more. I don’t see what’s worth saving.”

Aaron shrugged, wishing he knew the right words. “Maybe nothing is worth saving. So how about we just concentrate on destroying whatever’s left? How about we just burn it all to the ground?”

“That sounds… good. I think violence is all I’m capable of now. Whatever was left of my heart is gone.”

“Yeah, parts of me are missing, too. You get used to it.”

She chuckled, but it was totally humourless. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“I really am sorry about Coben. He was one of the best. Like Cameron, but without all the swearing.”

“You don’t deserve the blame, Aaron. Coben was always going to die a hero. He wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

“There’s still time for us to do the same.”

“Dying sounds good, however it comes.”

“Shall we go back to the others, then?”

She smiled at him, a little warmer now. But there were tears in her eyes. “Sure.”

They walked back to the group, where Cameron gave Fiona a reaffirming nod, glad to see her back. Morgan and Sophie offered thin-lipped smiles. Their group suddenly seemed small.

We’re dwindling. What do we do if Manchester is teeming with the enemy?

“Rest,” said Helper, drooping like a sunbaked flower. “Recharge.”

Aaron grimaced. “We shouldn’t stay here. The takers could be tracking me right now.”

Morgan turned to him. “Can you not… shut it off, or something?”

“I’m not sure. I already tried, but it’s like trying to grab smoke. It shifts every time I try to focus on it.”

Morgan took his hand and squeezed it. “My sister and I used to do yoga together. They used to teach it at our school in detention to help calm the unruly kids. Never worked for them, but when Taylor and I were locked in the attic, it used to keep us from spiralling out. It can help you get a handle on whatever’s going on inside your head.”

Aaron pulled a face, awkward at the mere mention of yoga. Wasn’t that for vain, middle-aged women in Lycra cycling shorts?

Morgan obviously sensed his trepidation, because she reached out and took his arm, pushing it upwards towards the sky. “Imagine you’re trying to grab the sun,” she told him. “Feel your spine lengthening and your ribcage opening up. Now hold it. Breathe in. Breathe out. Close your eyes and focus on the colour black. Try to stare into it. Try to see the end of the darkness behind your eyes.”

“This is a wee bit strange,” said Cameron. “Do ye no think?”

Morgan shushed him and returned her focus to Aaron. “That’s it. Now, inside the darkness, try to hear the noises inside your mind. Pick each sound out, like you’re plucking at the tiny petals of a daisy. Hold each one in the space between your eyes… your, um, eye. Now, examine one of those sounds, or the thought, or whatever it is you’ve latched onto. Separate it and recognise it for what it is. Is it good? Is it bad? No, it’s neither. It’s just your consciousness. It’s just the essence of who you are. It cannot hurt you or control you.”

Aaron gasped. “I… I have something. It’s like a hook. A sharp hook embedded in the back of my mind. It hurts, and yet…”

“Grab it. Control it.”

“I see the connection! There’s a vein. It flows with… with noise. A quiet humming. I never noticed it before.”

“Can you stop the humming?”

“No.”

Morgan kept her tone upbeat, soft and encouraging. “Then what can you do with it? If the humming was a radio signal, how would you stop others from hearing it?”

Cameron cleared his voice. “Eh, by being louder, of course. Make a wee racket.”

Aaron still had his eye closed, but he nodded at the suggestion. “You’re right, Cam. It’s just a noise. I can pollute it. I can…” He smiled, playing back Oasis songs in his head. Champagne Supernova in his mind.

Aaron opened his eyes. “I think I’ve interfered with the signal. It might be enough to keep the enemy from tracking me.”

Sophie grinned and patted Morgan on the back. “Good job, sister. You should open a studio after all this is over.”

Morgan actually beamed, a smile lighting up her face in a way Aaron had not seen before. More beautiful than ever. In fact, his whole body vibrated as she pulled his arm down to his side and held his hand. She stood so close to him he could smell her hair – sweat mixed with something pleasant – something feminine. “You’re an excellent student,” she whispered to him. “We should do yoga together sometime.”

“I… I would like that.”

She continued to smile, but now turned away. As she did so, something seemed to catch her eye on one of the solar-lit driveways. She raised a hand and pointed. “Um, guys. Those would be pretty useful, right?”

Aaron took a step to his right to see what she was referring to. She was pointing to one of the houses – a mock Tudor mansion with a double-wide, single-door garage. The large door was open, hanging back in its alcove. At first, Aaron struggled to spot anything of use – only an old washing machine and a stepladder – but then he grew excited. Parked at the back of the garage was a pair of large quad bikes. Next to them, a trailer.

Sophie grinned. “God, those look fun.”

“No likelihood of high-tech electronics on them, eh?” said Cameron. “Which means they should still run.”

“All we can do is hope,” said Aaron.

“Hope,” Helper echoed.

Fiona stepped forward. “Hey, before we start bombing around like a bunch of teenagers, I just want to say a few things. First, I’m sorry about my freakout. Truth is, I’m done. Whatever this life has left to offer, I don’t want it. But Aaron reminded me that sometimes we can carry on living, not for ourselves, but for others. I look at Morgan, and I wonder how many other girls are trapped inside attics, or men like Coben trying to protect a bunch of homeless people in an empty swimming pool. We are going to Manchester to destroy that weapon so that good people can try to fix things afterwards. I’m too broken to ever be put back together, but that doesn’t mean my sharp edges are no good for cutting the enemy’s throat. Let’s show them what it feels like to be exterminated.”

Cameron’s fist pumped in the air. “Now that’s fighting talk, lass. I’m a we ye all the way.”

“We’re all with you,” said Sophie, nodding with determination. “Now let’s go try those quad bikes.”

Aaron took a deep breath, too serious to smile or make light of anything. “Yeah, let’s go roll the credits on this fookin’ war.”

Teddy had been right about his time running short, and Aaron now feared his days were numbered, too. He was strangely okay with it. Just so long as he took the bastards down with him.

CHAPTER NINE

The quad bikes worked, and their tanks were full of petrol. It seemed like a gift from the universe, but they didn’t question it.

They were now racing down the country lanes without a care in the world. This was exhilaration. This was fun. Perhaps the last fun they would ever experience. Even Helper seemed to be enjoying himself, perched in the trailer attached to the back of Morgan and Aaron’s quad. Morgan was driving, seeing as Aaron only had one arm with which to steer. Helper lifted his fan every few minutes and let it flap in the wind. He was slumped down and angled backward as if watching the starry sky rush by overhead.

Cameron operated the other quad bike, with Sophie and Fiona squashed into the seat behind him. There was a luggage rack at the back, which Sophie gripped with both hands to keep both her and Fiona from slipping. Without helmets, a crash would be fatal. But so was everything in this world. At least they would die with a smile upon their faces.

Morgan zipped back and forth on the road, skidding the rear wheels and lighting up the hedges with meandering headlights. Aaron cried out in fear, but didn’t tell her to stop. She was giggling with glee and speeding up and slowing down without reason. He knew what she was feeling. Freedom. No longer trapped in that attic, she was living her life on her own terms. Aaron was too, but it had taken the end of the world to liberate him from himself. He hoped, more than ever, that there would be something after all of this.

He wasn’t ready to give up. All his anger, all his pain… they tried to convince him that life wasn’t worth the fight. But it was. Wrapping his arm around the waist of this amazing, beautiful girl was worth it. Hearing Cameron whoop with joy up ahead was worth it.

They passed through the village of Knutsford just as the sun rose. It was their final waypoint en route to Manchester; a picturesque place, with a chocolate box of buildings from various eras. Some were ancient, some merely old, but all had character. It was a town many had used to come to eat in, to enjoy an escape from the nearby city. Bistros, restaurants, and pubs took up the high street and main thoroughfares, but like everywhere else, they were now overgrown with weeds and grass, as well as a fine layer of black ash – the remnants of what once would have been alien fungus.

The streets of Knutsford were narrow and cluttered, so Cameron and Morgan had to slow the quad bikes to a crawl in order to keep from careening into the various obstacles. Several times they mounted the pavement or skidded across small patches of parkland until, eventually, they made it out of the village. It would be another eight or nine miles before they reached Manchester.

They came to a stop at the edge of Sale Water Park, a place he’d often come as a child to swim in the shallow pond. It was still the same as ever, barely touched by the alien invasion. Jet skis and paddle boats lay abandoned on the water, but the boathouse was undamaged. A pair of swans swam back and forth as if they owned the place.

The River Mersey ran through the park nearby, its water clear and free-flowing.

“We’re almost at the city,” said Aaron, peering over Morgan’s shoulder at Cameron. “The highway will take us through Stretford and then to our final destination. We could be there in an hour. Does anybody need to rest?”

Nobody did. They wanted to get this over with.

The images Aaron had seen were fuzzy and indistinct – like looking at a photograph cross-eyed – but his friends trusted him enough to follow him across the country. He just hoped that what he had seen was real. And that they could stop the worst from happening.

What if we get there and there’s a thousand takers waiting to meet us? Or the weapon has already gone off? What if I’m wrong, and it’s not where I think it is?

Aaron looked back at Helper, still perched in the trailer. “You okay?”

Helper used his own voice, which he liked to do when spoken to directly. “Helper… good.”

“So, are we ready?” said Cameron, hands on his knees as he straddled the seat. His colossal size made the quad bike appear miniature.

Aaron nodded. “We’re ready.”

The two quads roared through the park.

Beetham Tower rose in the distance and Aaron knew he was home. Manchester seemed to swallow them up as they bombed down the highway, taller and taller buildings leaping up around them. Dead traffic blocked many of the roads, and there were barely any gaps between the buildings. A world of twisted metal and crumbling concrete. As well as fungus. There were only glimpses of green growth at first, but then there were thicker patches of it clinging to the sides of pedestrian bridges and billboards. It wasn’t a full-on infestation, like those caused by the corkscrews. It was more of a sporadic spread caused by alien bugs dropping from the carcasses of infected people. The enemy was here. Aaron’s home was infected.

Cameron pulled up beside Aaron and Morgan, the bike’s engine ticking over. “We made it, Little English. Ye gonnae give us a tour?”

“We’re about to enter Stretford. That’s where we need to go. With any luck—”

His words fell away as something caught his eye. He nodded to Cameron and then at a nearby shop front. It was an independent carpet place with its windows smashed in and part of its exterior burnt out. Two pairs of eyes peered out at them.

Cameron raised a bushy red eyebrow. “There are folks inside”

Morgan groaned. “Not more Natives?”

The people in the carpet warehouse were hiding, and when it became clear they’d been spotted, they fled deeper into the burnt-out shop.

Aaron shook his head. “No. They’re afraid.”

Fiona frowned. “You think there are survivors in the city?”

“Half a million people,” said Sophie. “I suppose it would make sense that some managed to stay alive.”

Aaron looked around, peering at the gutted shops and fungus-covered walkways. He got a sense of movement – of being watched. Further down the main road, a military jeep with a machine gun mounted in the back sat against the kerb. People had fought a battle here.

Manc pride. We don’t take shit from anyone.

“We can’t worry about survivors right now,” said Aaron. “If the takers are here, then people will be hiding out and trying to survive, not coming out and causing trouble like the Natives. I think it’s safe to ignore them.”

Cameron eyed the carpet shop. One set of eyes had returned – what looked like a woman – and she peered out at them from behind a melted roll of old carpet. “Aye, let’s move along.”

Aaron wrapped his arm tighter around Morgan and said, “Okay, take that road up ahead. We’re almost there.”

They gunned the engines and took off. The road was chock-a-block with wreckage, so they had to skid and slide around as much of it as they could. Eventually, the way ahead became impassable. A double-decker bus lay on its side across the road. Fungus had claimed it, and its luminous green paintwork was ironically almost the same colour as the fuzz.

“We should try tae find another way,” said Cameron, bringing his bike to a stop beside Morgan’s. “Me tyres are slipping all over the place like a heilan coo legging it through snow.”

Aaron climbed off the back and shook his head. “It’s only going to get worse the further we go into the city. We’ll have to walk from here. It’s not far now.”

Morgan switched off the bike, stepped clear, and then rubbed at the inside of her thighs. “I think I chafed.”

Cameron got off and did a bow-legged walk. “Aye. Me wee nuts are getting numb.”

Nuts. Legumes. Protein, said Helper, waving his fan.

There was a slight gap on the left side of the road, a metre space between the bus’s rear end and a mobile phone store. Aaron went first, feeling in charge – and at home – in his own city. Manchester was all he’d ever known. The rural villages and vast countryside he’d experienced during the last year had been eye-opening, but this was what he was used to. Modern glass buildings mixed with Victorian terraces. Gothic cathedrals. Monolithic shopping centres. Money and poverty side by side. The past and the future. The friendly and the fierce. If human beings were insects, then Manchester was a hive.

Up ahead, Stretford House reached for the skies, while the massive mall sprawled out behind it. They were only half an hour away from their destination now. So close.

There was activity at the mall.

Cameron noticed it, too. He pointed. “Looks like we’re getting warm, eh?”

“Shit,” said Sophie. “What do we do?”

There were four takers from what Aaron saw, lumbering back and forth in a car park. A host of construction machinery sat abandoned, and a large crane towered over the building. Humans peered down from a section of scaffolding. The mall had been under renovation, but it looked like it had become a refuge.

“They’re searching for survivors,” said Fiona. “Trying to exterminate whoever’s left.”

One taker suddenly bellowed as bricks rained down on top of it. The survivors on the scaffolding were defending themselves.

“Gid on ’em,” said Cameron.

A petrol-fuelled grumble sounded, and an earth mover suddenly spluttered to life in the car park. Its large shovel lowered and it accelerated towards the nearest taker. The seven-foot creature turned too late and disappeared beneath the bright yellow vehicle with a squeal and came out the other end as an orange smear.

Cameron whooped. They were too far away to draw attention, but Fiona still shushed him. “They just made marmalade oot of that bastard,” he said. “Did ye see that, lass?”

“We all saw it,” said Sophie. “What do we do? Should we help?”

Aaron shook his head. “We… we can’t afford to waste time. If the takers know we’ve reached the city, they might set off the weapon. The best way we can help those people is to stop the takers from doing that.”

A scream sounded. The mall’s scaffolding rattled as a taker clubbed at it with its thick limbs. A survivor fell over the side and splatted on the road. At the same time, another taker sent a pulse towards the speeding earth mover and obliterated the driver inside. His blood splatted up the windscreen.

“We have to help,” said Morgan. “We can’t let them die.”

Aaron took an indecisive half step. Their goal was so close that it seemed foolish to delay. What if the weapon went off with them only a few miles away? Somehow, that would be a worse failure. But Morgan was right. They couldn’t stand by and watch people die. They had already lost Coben and Liam. No more. “Damn it. Let’s make this quick.”

They raced ahead, passing around the back of the Stretford House and entering the mall’s car park. Aaron saw movement everywhere, dozens of survivors.

And only two takers to deal with. We can do this.

But how? We have no weapons.

Helper caught the attention of one of the takers by using his fan. The taker resisted, trying to step forward while convulsing. Aaron looked around for something to use and noticed a metal pole sticking out of a muddy hole. It was part of a fence erected around the hole. He tore the pole loose and untangled it from a knot of blue string, having to employ his knees to hold it still. Once it was free, he tucked it tightly under his arm and pressed it against his side. Like a knight without a horse, he then galloped at the distracted taker and buried the pole right in its narrow flank. It let out a squeal and tried to turn, but its wound tore wide open, manipulated by whatever force Helper summoned with his fan. The only thing the creature could do was paw at Aaron pathetically as it slumped to the ground and died.

Aaron’s skull filled with static. He fell backwards and landed on the stony ground. The taker’s orange blood was all over his arm, cold instead of warm.

The remaining taker bellowed in what might have been grief, or perhaps was merely anger, and then sprinted right at Aaron. Aaron tried to get up and move, but he was disorientated, his vision swaying like he was on a boat. Instinctively, he threw up his hand to protect himself as he lay on his back like a defenceless kitten.

The air shimmered, getting so hot it felt like the world around him was going to melt. His fingertips trembled, and the tiny bones of his hands tried to escape through his skin.

The incoming taker disappeared in a light spray of orange vapour.

Aaron gasped, his hand still outstretched and shaking.

Cameron staggered to a halt beside Aaron. His mouth fell open. “W-What? How did ye…? What manner of shite wis that?”

“I-I-I…” Aaron couldn’t speak. It felt like his body had turned inside out.

Morgan crouched beside him and rubbed his back. “Breathe. Focus on your legs, your knees, your hips… and breathe.”

Aaron took a few breaths. While he did so, he glanced up at the scaffolding and at the roof of the mall. Faces peered down at him. Strangers in disbelief.

I’m in disbelief. Did I…? Did I use the taker’s pulse against them?

Cameron and Morgan helped Aaron to his feet. His legs were shaking, but he stayed standing. “I don’t know how I did that.”

“Can you do it again?” Sophie asked, looking at him like he had just farted on a grave.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should try,” Fiona suggested.

He nodded.

Not wanting to hurt his friends, he turned and faced the road before holding out his hand. He closed his eyes.

Come on. Come on.

There was something new inside his head – a foreign sensation. It was as though he could feel the very atoms in the air. They rattled and vibrated and gave off heat. He thought he might be able to reach out with his mind and flick them, but he couldn’t quite manage it.

“You need to wait,” said Sophie. “The takers can’t fire again for a while after spilling their load, right?”

Aaron sighed and put down his arm. “You’re right.”

“Okay,” said Fiona. “So wait a minute and try again.”

So he did. After two or three minutes had passed, he raised his arm again and aimed up at the sky. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and… whoosh!

Aaron opened his eyes and saw the air shimmer in front of him. He felt the super-heated air, the atoms bouncing off of one another. He’d done it. He couldn’t explain how, but he had. It was like smelling a rose. The scent just existed, even if he couldn’t see it or tell you how his body could detect it.

The people on the scaffold and roof had gone into hiding. Perhaps Aaron had scared them. That was okay. He wasn’t here to make friends. He had something much more important to do. But before he left, he had something to say to the people who were no doubt watching him from their hideouts. “Keep fighting back!” He cupped his hand to his mouth and shouted louder. “The enemy is almost beaten, so don’t give up. Keep fighting. This city is ours. This planet is ours. And the enemy fears us.”

A few faces peered at him from up high, but no one replied or broke cover. They hadn’t survived this long by being reckless. Bravery was as lethal as a bullet. Cowardice as protective as a shield.

Cameron patted Aaron on the back. “Come on, Little English. Our work here is done.”

Aaron nodded. “It’s time to show you Ryan’s favourite place in the entire world. You ready?”

CHAPTER TEN

Aaron’s mind was still fuzzy, stretched out and sore. It had expanded in some strange way, but he’d not been given instructions on how to make use of the extra bandwidth. The voices were back, echoing back and forth, but this time he could snuff them out, catching each one like a fly buzzing past. The more he did so, the more the voices sounded confused. He was messing with the enemy’s communication. A bug in their system.

An invader.

When Aaron and the others saw the weapon, it stopped them in their tracks. It was far larger than he had imagined, and far more malevolent than he had feared.

Rising several hundred feet into the air like a twisted green cock – all veiny and muscular – the weapon pulsed with some kind of obscene orange liquid. A transparent container held fleshy chunks of something awful. The structure thickened towards the top and tapered towards the bottom, reminding Aaron of the corkscrews.

Another vile alien object implanted into the innocent earth.

“That does not look like it’s here to spread joy and happiness,” said Morgan.

“You were right,” said Sophie, looking at Aaron. “All along, you knew this was here.”

Cameron folded his arms and grunted. “Ye doubted it? One thing I’ve learned aboot this wee lad is that his instincts are no ever wrong.”

Aaron turned to Cameron and gave a thankful nod. “To be honest, a part of me doubted it myself,” he admitted. “Now that we’re here, it means we actually have a chance to end this.”

“How?” said Fiona. “How do we destroy that thing? We don’t even know what it is or what it does.”

Aaron stepped forward. “Then we’d best find out. Oh, welcome to Old Trafford, by the way. Ryan’s favourite place on Earth. This here is the Stretford end.”

Seeing the old stadium again, covered in patches of green fungus and fire damage was saddening. Yet the fact it was still standing made Aaron more defiant than ever. The reds of Manchester United were everywhere, as were the banners proclaiming ‘Glory, Glory, Man United’.

“Time for the final whistle.” Aaron jogged forward, eager to end things, a grim smile on his face. The others shouted after him, telling him not to rush off alone.

Then they panicked.

What’s wrong? Why are they shouting after me like that?

Aaron skidded to a halt just as a taker levelled his arm at him. He threw himself down and ducked the shimmering air just in time to avoid being obliterated. Unable to fire again, the rushing taker tried to club him. He avoided that too, but lost his balance and fell onto his side. The others rushed to his aid, Cameron yanking him back to his feet.

But Cameron suddenly flew sideways, as if a wrecking ball had just hit him. The taker had clubbed him in the side, the crack of his ribs like a branch snapping. The big Scot tumbled over and over on the ground, eventually coming to a stop amongst the rubble.

Fiona leapt at the taker, but it shrugged her off, too. Sophie retreated, looking around for a weapon. Morgan stood frozen, not knowing what to do. The fall had winded Aaron, but he fought to get back up.

The taker stalked after Cameron, who started dragging himself along on his stomach. But there was nowhere for him to go. A nearby coach was parked in his way, blocking his escape.

Aaron reached out a hand and focused. The air trembled.

The taker immediately turned away from Cameron and spun to face Aaron. While it had no discernible mouth, it somehow looked stunned.

How is?

Aaron frowned and lowered his arm. The voice in his head was clear, powerful.

How is?

Aaron tensed up, feeling a rope around his neck. He did his best to reply, to meet the voice buzzing inside his head. I am not human any more. I am you.

Not us. Not human.

Aaron nodded. Both. Neither. Unknown.

Unexpected. Unnatural.

Please. Why are you doing this to us?

The taker took a step towards Aaron. Cameron, seeing an opportunity, dragged himself underneath the coach where it was slightly safer. Everyone else stood in stunned silence. The creature peered at Aaron with its many eyes.

Must.

Aaron shook his head and thought, Why? Why must?

Demanded. This one is… soldier.

You mean you have orders?

Home dead. New home… needed.

But this is our home.

Remorse is. Take must. Joy not.

If you know you are wrong, then stop this. We are not animals. We are human, and we want to live.

Soldier is. Soldier must. The taker strode forward two more steps, staring down at Aaron with something approaching regret in its many eyes. Want is not.

Aaron wasn’t hearing words. It was more like he was sensing – feeling – intent. Absorbing the thoughts of the taker. It was communication via empathy. And he understood that this was nothing personal. It was just war.

The taker lifted its arm. The air shimmered.

No. Aaron threw up his arm. Truce.

The taker lowered its arm. Surrender?

Yes. I am the one you are afraid of, and I give up. Take me as your prisoner, but let my friends go.

Aaron was trying to buy some time until he could figure out his next move. Would the taker sense that? Or would it take him at his word? He tried to think fake thoughts, to pretend that he genuinely wanted to give himself up.

Let me talk to your leader, Aaron thought.

Why is?

So I can understand more. I want knowledge before I die.

Higher being.

Aaron assumed what he was sensing was a yes, so he lowered his hand and slowly got to his feet. The taker was twice his size, so it displayed no fear of him. All the same, it half lifted one of its arms, ready to club Aaron to death if he tried anything.

Aaron turned to his friends, who clearly had no idea what the hell was going on. They hadn’t heard the conversation with the alien invader. “I surrendered,” he told them. “It’s going to take me inside the stadium, I think. The rest of you should get out of here. I’ll do what I can. It’s the only chance we have.”

Cameron groaned from underneath the coach in obvious agony.

“We’re not leaving you,” said Sophie, daring to step forward. It was surreal standing so close to a taker that wasn’t trying to evaporate them, and no one seemed to know how to act. “Tell it we surrender, too.”

My friends surrender, too. Truce for all.

Is not. Only your one. Your body is… not understood. Knowing must is. Others not accepted. May run. May live moments.

Aaron swallowed a lump in his throat. Moments? The weapon is about to go off?

The taker ignored Aaron’s questions and made a sound that resonated inside his head. The signal summoned three more takers from the nearby rubble behind the stadium. When they saw Aaron and the others, they immediately went to attack, but the original taker quickly talked them down. They muttered amongst themselves, but Aaron was unable to understand their alien language. When the one had spoken to him, it had employed something other than words. It had merged their minds and formed a connection. To its brethren, it communicated with language. Specific sounds, uttered mind to mind.

Too late to run, said the taker a moment later, now back inside Aaron’s head. Is death. Remorse.

Aaron turned to the others and told them to run. But they didn’t. Damn them, they didn’t.

Helper let out a screech and rushed forward with his fan open. The lead taker turned and leapt at him, clubbing him to the ground. It then placed a limb on his scarred blue flesh and caused him to convulse.

What are you doing to him? Aaron demanded in his mind.

Reading.

Reading?

Reading knowledge. Knowing mind. Seeing sights. Humans. Weapons. Places.

Aaron groaned. Intel. The creature was draining Helper for intel.

Did that mean the weapon wouldn’t immediately wipe out humanity? Would the pockets of resistance still need to be dealt with?

The taker must have heard Aaron’s thoughts because it replied to him. Lessons to learn. For next.

Aaron shook his head in disgust.

The takers would move on as soon as they were done with the Earth, sending off more corkscrews full of fungus to claim more of the universe. Earth was just a trinket amongst many. But mankind had obviously provided a challenge, so this monster wanted to understand everything it could so that it could better kill the next species it helped invade.

Aaron tried not to think his true thoughts. He clamped his teeth together and pictured a brick wall.

The taker finally released Helper, who remained lifeless on the ground. Then, it turned back to look at the three other takers, who seemed to be awaiting orders. Perhaps to torment Aaron, the alien spoke in words he could understand. Polluted one, take. Rest is kill.

Aaron bellowed at the top of his lungs and threw himself into battle.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The takers squealed and convulsed. Aaron realised it was because he was screaming inside his own mind. The sheer volume of his inner voice created interference the aliens couldn’t bear – a frequency they were ill-equipped to process. Aaron skidded to a halt and watched their pain.

Stop is, the takers cried telepathically. Must is.

Aaron stopped screaming and focused on the lead taker. Let my friends live. Accept our surrender or I’ll fight you to the death, and you’ll lose your chance to examine me.

The taker stared at him for several moments, trembling with pain. Eventually, it sent a message to the other three takers that caused them to step back.

Follow, it said. Go is. Mercy given.

Aaron nodded to the others that all was okay, which prompted Sophie to help Cameron out from underneath the coach. Morgan and Fiona hurried to rouse Helper.

Two minutes later, they were all back on their feet and following the three subordinate takers, while the other kept guard from behind.

The takers led them around to the southern side of the stadium, where a plaza opened up. Aaron’s earlier assessment of Old Trafford being undamaged was quickly dashed as he saw that the horrific alien weapon had landed partially in the South Stand, causing it to collapse in a pile of rubble. It opened up a space directly onto the pitch from the plaza outside and gave an unfettered view of the pulsing weapon polluting the ground. Green ooze leaked into the turf. At the base of the shaft was a strange collection of throbbing veins and shimmering metal orbs. Aaron couldn’t be sure, but he thought it might be some kind of control panel.

A dozen takers were assembled around the weapon. One of them was not like the others. A foot taller, it wore some kind of carapace armour that looked as if it had skinned a maroon-coloured rhino and fashioned a chest plate from it.

Leader. Aaron didn’t hear the word, but he sensed it. The tone of the voices inside his head changed, became more subservient. When this alien authority figure saw Aaron and his friends, it released a sharp hiss. Kill.

The taker who had taken Aaron prisoner lowered itself before the leader and spoke words in their language. The sounds were guttural and harsh, like rocks being ground together. Aaron glanced at his friends, wondering if he had just walked them to their death. Cameron was in a bad way, clutching his ribs and wincing. His skin was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. Sophie and Fiona helped support him, but he was heavy. Morgan and Helper stood behind them, both trembling with fear. Did Helper even understand what was going on?

The armoured taker shoved its underling aside and approached Aaron. Aaron felt sick in every cell of his body as it neared, not just from fear, but from revulsion. The takers were evil, but this one…

This is what evil fears.

The creature examined Aaron through its many tiny eyes, tilting back and forth slowly. Then it spoke directly into Aaron’s mind. No, it pierced his mind. Aaron wanted to cry out – to lash out – but he was frozen stiff and unable to do anything except listen. Human not. Taker not. Abomination is.

I… I am human. You are the abomination.

A loud hiss, like steam escaping from a pipe. Insect is.

We’re beating you. You’re desperate. So… so suck my dick is.

The creature roared inside Aaron’s mind, causing him to fall to his knees. It was an agony such as he had never known; a white-hot spike piercing his eyeball and popping it like a water balloon. The pressure inside his head built to such a point that he thought his skull might explode.

“Hey! Leave the lad alone, ye ugly bastard!”

Aaron had been vaguely aware of Cameron standing nearby, but he now saw the big Scot in his peripheral vision. Clutching his ribs, Cameron leapt towards the armoured taker and thrust his head at its chest.

The taker swatted him into the air, launching him so far that Aaron had to twist his neck to watch him land.

Gravity pulled Cameron down on top of an exposed copper pipe jutting out of the rubble. The metal passed right through his back and burst through his chest. If it hurt, Cameron didn’t show it. He just stared at the grey morning sky overhead with a furrowed brow and a crooked mouth, as if he were trying to make sense of what had just happened. The copper pipe had entered him at an upward angle. Blood dripped down its length.

From somewhere nearby, Morgan screamed.

Aaron tried to go to Cameron, but he was stuck in place.

Helper squealed. “Cam… run!” Then he rushed over to help, his fan already extended, ready to heal.

The nearby takers rushed Helper and clubbed him to the ground, pounding on him repeatedly. He squealed like a hamster caught in a cat’s mouth, his large body going limp under the onslaught of blows.

The armoured taker sent out a message to his underlings, and a pair of them broke away, heading for Fiona, Sophie, and Morgan. The women attempted to run, but they were soundly cut off by another taker waiting behind them. It could’ve killed them with a pulse, but their leader clearly wanted suffering.

Seeing his friends hurt and in danger caused Aaron to do everything he could to get free of the hold the taker had over him. He would not let things end like this. He would not fail everyone. Wouldn’t fail Ryan.

Brother, if you’re up there in Heaven, please help me.

Aaron felt his hand move. The rest of him gradually followed. Once he had control of himself again, he threw himself at the armoured taker in a rage. But the malevolent creature barely moved.

Aaron bellowed at the top of his lungs, wishing the thing dead. Hating it with every ounce of his soul. He wailed inside his own head like the ghost of a butchered woman.

The taker stumbled backwards as if Aaron had struck it for a second time, this time much harder. The other takers in the stadium all turned around, distracted by the disruption of their psychic link and the painful interference on the line.

But it wasn’t enough. The armoured taker recovered and swung an arm at Aaron, causing him to leap backwards and fall onto his back to avoid being crushed. The other takers resumed stalking his friends. Helper was unconscious or dead. Cameron bled out on the copper pipe. It was over.

The weapon in the centre of Old Trafford pulsed and throbbed.

The armoured taker stood over Aaron and made a strange sound. Laughter. It was a broken, distorted clicking that was obviously meant to mimic human emotion, but failed. A mockery.

Death is. Mankind is not.

“F-Fuck you.” Aaron now spoke out loud, done with the mental back and forth.

The taker raised its arm. The air shimmered.

A gunshot rang out. Aaron flinched.

The taker staggered backwards, its chest on fire.

No, not a gunshot. A… firework?

What the?

Helper was suddenly back on its feet, and now rushing right towards the armoured taker.

No, that isn’t Helper.

It was another blue alien, this one taller and stronger than Helper. It had both fans intact, and it used their vibrating frequencies to pull apart the taker’s chest like uncooked cookie dough, exploiting the damage caused by the fizzing rocket that had embedded itself in its flesh. Orange blood squirted everywhere. Vile chunks of alien innards spilled down the taker’s ruined torso. It fell to its knees and stared at Aaron, and spoke two final words before falling down dead. How is?

Aaron stumbled to his feet, free of the taker’s psychic influence. He spun around, trying to understand what had just happened, and when he saw more fireworks launch from the rubble of the South Stand, he only grew more confused. Someone was igniting rockets and using them as weapons. They took flight one after another after another, most of them missing, but others hitting their mark with a searing blast. The successful hits stuck to the taker’s bodies and sent up sparks, burning away at their flesh. While not lethal, the whizzing explosives caused utter confusion. Even the high-pitched squeal seemed to have a negative effect on the takers.

The takers squealed and staggered about. The tall blue alien went at them with its fans, causing them even more disruption and agony. One of them went into a protective metal ball, but it was so wounded that it was probably in vain.

Fiona, Sophie, and Morgan took cover in the rubble near Cameron.

Aaron stood at the edge of the pitch, stunned.

The stranger ceased letting off fireworks and raced onto the pitch. It seemed to be a man, and he was carrying a petrol-powered chainsaw. He yanked on the starter chord and it roared to life. The motor purred with pleasure as the man drove it into the torso of the nearest taker. Orange blood cascaded like a colourful fountain.

The man with the chainsaw wore a blue baseball cap, and he was oddly familiar.

Is that…?

It can’t be…

The chainsaw-wielding man and the big blue alien made quick work of the remaining takers, and soon only one remained. It back-pedalled in fear, squealing in terror. Aaron recognised it as the one who had taken him prisoner. The man chased after it with the chainsaw like a maniac out of a horror movie.

Aaron threw up his hand. “Stop!”

The stranger just about heard him over the din of the chainsaw, but he pulled back and let the taker stagger out of harm’s way. Aaron rushed over to face the creature, speaking into its mind as easily as if he were talking to an old friend beside him.

This is our planet.

Yes, the taker replied, all of its beady eyes on Aaron. Yours is.

This thing had been prepared to let his friends go in safety at first. It was not a mindless animal and had almost shown mercy. An enemy soldier just following orders. Not an excuse, but at least a reason.

Go, thought Aaron. Be safe.

The taker stared at him for a moment. Then it replied, Thank you.

Aaron put a hand up to keep anyone from pursuing the creature as it staggered away. It clambered through the rubble of the South Stand and disappeared.

“Did you just have a conversation with that thing, our kid? That’s mad.”

Aaron spun around, a jolt of lightning hitting his chest and taking his breath away. “R-Ryan?”

Ryan took off his baseball cap and tossed it onto the pitch. “This place has seen better days.”

Aaron shook his head, unable to speak.

Ryan seemed older somehow, but perhaps it was just the grime on his face. His smile, however… his smile hadn’t changed one bit. He reached out and patted Aaron on the shoulder. “You look like shite, little bro.”

Aaron flung himself forward into his brother’s arms, sure that he was dreaming.

But it felt real.

Then he threw up all over Old Trafford’s pitch.

Aaron backed away, still wondering if he was dreaming. Or dead.

Ryan was standing right in front of him. Alive. But how could that be…?

“I-I watched you die. This isn’t real.”

Ryan suddenly seemed tired, but he continued to smile. “You watched me fall into a coma, bro. Fortunately, I found a quirky friend who can heal.” He motioned to the big blue alien. “His name’s Wallace. Well, that’s what I call him, anyway.”

“Help,” Fiona shouted.

Aaron turned and suddenly lost his breath again. He was brought quickly back to reality.

Fiona was kneeling over Cameron with her hands covered in his blood. She clutched at the copper pipe but didn’t seem to know what to do.

Ryan’s eyes went wide. “Shit, is that Cameron?”

Aaron raced over to the big Scot, mortified to see the greyness of his face. He was barely conscious, his eyes drooping, but when he saw Aaron, he smiled. “Is that… am I dreaming, lad?”

“It’s Ryan,” said Aaron, looking back at his brother behind him. “I can’t even… it doesn’t matter. Helper, Helper, we need you.”

“But Helper was lying on the ground, unmoving. It was unclear if the alien was even still alive.

“Wallace can help,” said Ryan, and he clicked his fingers to summon the other alien.

Wallace lumbered over on three legs and moved next to Cameron. Immediately, he flopped on top of the big Scot and began to quiver. Cameron swore angrily, but his complaints were muffled by the alien’s bulk.

After a few fraught moments, Wallace rose back up again and waved his fans. Too Late.

Aaron frowned, not understanding. Cameron looked no better. In fact, his face had grown an even deeper shade of grey. “What? No, you can perform miracles. I’ve seen men brought back from near death.”

Wallace put down his fans and tried to talk with his own voice, the same way Helper often did. “Heart. Damage. No fix.” He lifted his fans again. Remorse.

“No,” said Aaron. “No. I won’t lose him. I can’t. He’s my…” He glanced at Ryan. “He’s my brother.”

Cameron smiled and let out a choked chuckle. “I love ye, Little English. But… but yer real brother is here now, eh?”

Aaron knelt beside Cameron. “No. No, you’re as much my brother as Ryan is. I would be dead if not for you. Please, we have to fix this.”

“It’s done, lad. I…” He gargled and a stream of bloody drool spilled from the corners of his mouth. He spat it out and cleared his throat. “Sorry, that wis gross.”

Aaron chuckled, but salty tears stung his eyes. “You’re not dying, Cam.”

“Eh, it’s grand, lad. This is… just grand. Except… Except, I always thought I’d die in… in bonny Scotland. At home.”

Fiona put her hand against his cheek. Tears were streaming down her face. “You are home, sweetheart. You’re with the people who love you.”

Cameron managed another smile. “Always thought me and yoo would… would wind up shagging, eh?”

Fiona guffawed. “Dickhead. You’re my fucking hero, man.”

“Aye.”

Ryan moved tentatively closer, as if he feared he was intruding. When Cameron saw him, he nodded, which seemed to be the permission he needed. He knelt beside Cameron and grabbed the Scot’s meaty fist between both of his hands. “Never thought I’d see you again, our kid. How y’been doing?”

“Feckin’ awful, pal. Whatae’s coming next must… must be better.”

Ryan squeezed Cameron’s hand. “The best of places, mate. You kept my little brother safe.” He looked back at Aaron and frowned. “Well, more or less. He had two arms when I left him with you.”

“Ah, quit yer whining.”

Ryan leant closer. “Thank you, brother. I can never repay you.”

“Just name yer firstborn after his handsome uncle Cam and we’re all square, eh? Make sure he supports Glasgow Rangers, too, will ye no.”

Ryan grimaced. “Not sure I can promise that, mate.”

“Then no be surprised if I come back and haunt ye.” His eyes glazed over, and it looked like he might be gone, but then he suddenly flicked his gaze to the left, looking once again at Aaron. “Ye the big man now, lad. Take care of them lasses, eh?”

“I think they can take care of themselves,” said Aaron with a teary smile.

“Aye, ye probably right. Take care of ye wee self then. I’m too tired tae… tae… tae keep saving yer arse.”

Aaron nodded. “I’ll take it from here, Cam.”

Cameron closed his eyes and smiled, seemingly satisfied. He took one long breath, and more blood spilled from between his lips. His final words were barely audible, but Aaron knew the man well enough to know exactly what they were.

Feckin’ English.

Cameron died. Something that seemed impossible. The man-mountain had faced death a thousand times and survived, to the point where he had started to appear immune. Reality had finally caught up with him.

Fiona leant against Aaron and the two of them sobbed, bonded in grief. Sophie and Morgan stood next to them, silent.

Ryan watched them grieve for several minutes, but then he couldn’t seem to keep himself from speaking. “So, little bro? You and Cameron were pretty tight, huh?”

It was an awkward thing to say, but Aaron couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s been a hectic few months. A lot has happened. How did you… how did you even find us?”

He shrugged. “Heard shouting and fighting and that. Wallace led me here. I’ve been home for a few days, trying to stay out of sight and help out where I can. There are people all over the city trying to fight back.”

Aaron nodded. “I know. We saw some of them.”

Ryan swallowed and lowered his eyes. “I came back home to find mam. Thought maybe she would’ve stayed safe in the house. I checked…” He let out a sigh. “She weren’t there, our kid.”

“She’s in Edinburgh,” said Sophie. She’d been standing and staring at Ryan the whole time he’d been there, but she seemed to get a hold of herself now. In fact, she seemed a little peeved that it had taken him so long to notice her.

Ryan turned to see her now, though, and his eyes twitched like a pair of escaping bugs. It was like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing or hearing. “A-Alive?”

Sophie nodded. “For now.”

“I was in Edinburgh. Passed right through without a clue she was there.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He shook his head, tears forming behind his eyelids. His voice quivered as he spoke. “Sophie, every night I’ve dreamt about your face. I had to keep it in my mind, because I couldn’t let it fade, not even a little. Y-You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m sorry that it took the end of the world to teach me how to be a man. I don’t even have the words to explain to you…”

“Who needs words?” She leapt forward and grabbed him, kissing him so hard that she almost knocked him over. The two of them embraced like they were terrified of losing each other again.

Fiona smiled despite her tears, but it was an expression full of pain. Coben’s ghost seemed to be there with them at that moment.

As were the ghosts of billions of others.

Morgan whispered to Aaron, “I take it they know each other.”

“You could say that,” he replied with a weak smile. He then turned to face the monstrous weapon buried in the turf. Up close, it seemed to climb all the way into space. “Did we do it? Did we win?”

Ryan chuckled, his arms wrapped tightly around Sophie and staring into her eyes. “This is Old Trafford. The home team always wins. Um… win what, by the way?”

Aaron had a lot of explaining to do. So he got started.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ryan took several steps towards the weapon, staring upward with his eyes wide. The sky above Manchester was a healthy morning blue, but the patch directly overhead was a sickly purple, like an ageing bruise. The orbs at the base of the weapon pulsated, breathing in and out like air-filled blisters.

“We don’t know what it is exactly,” said Aaron, “but it’ll pollute the atmosphere and finish us off.”

Ryan half turned back towards him, seeming unwilling to have his back to the weapon now that he knew what it was. “So we destroy it, right?”

“Any ideas?” asked Sophie. “I don’t see any buttons.”

Fiona was crouched next to Cameron’s body, stroking his forehead. When she spoke, she didn’t lift her head to look at anyone. “Maybe we can blow it up?”

Aaron nodded to his brother, an ache in his neck as he did so. His head felt heavy, as if it were filled with lead. “Do you have any more fireworks?”

“No. I set them all off when I came to the rescue. It seemed like an all-or-nothing kind of situation. None of it was powerful enough to destroy this thing, anyhow. We need something military. C4 or dynamite.”

“Know where we can find any?”

“Nope.”

Helper started moving, so Sophie and Morgan hurried to help him to recover. He was battered and wounded, moaning like an animal. But he was alive. A fact that overwhelmed Aaron with relief.

Ryan whistled, which prompted Wallace to come waddling over. “Hey, our kid? Do you know how we can destroy this thing?”

Wallace stepped closer to the weapon and lifted his fans. They vibrated and flapped for almost a full minute before he stopped and turned to Ryan. N_2O_4 Dinitrogen tetroxide. Deadly. Extinction.

Ryan groaned. “Can you stop it?”

Wallace turned to face the weapon again. This time, he spoke in his own voice, which was almost identical to Helper’s. “Poss-ib-ly.”

“Then get to it, mate. Save our bacon.”

“Yesss.” Wallace waddled over to the weapon and planted both of his fans on the orbs, left and right. Immediately they started to shimmer, but they didn’t seem to cause the alien any discomfort.

Aaron gave his brother a wide-eyed stare. “Do you really think he can do it? I… I can’t believe we made it here and won.”

Ryan stepped over and pulled his brother into a hug. “You never gave up, little bro. You crawled through shit and came up smelling of Hugo Boss. When did you become a man?”

“The moment you died.”

Ryan chuckled. “Then I’m sorry your personal development was based on a lie.”

“Best lie ever.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Aaron didn’t know what to say to that. It was something he had never expected to hear.

Sophie grunted behind them as she fought to get Helper onto his feet. The alien was bleeding from several places, and part of his large black eye had ruptured at the lower-left corner, leaking filthy brown fluid. His fan was crumpled like a crunched-up leaf.

We need to get him help.

Despite his clear injury and weakness, Helper suddenly threw up his broken fan and squealed. A warning. Terrified.

Fiona swore and leapt up from beside Cameron. Behind her, clambering through the rubble, a dozen greens and a pair of takers raced in to attack.

“They’re here to stop us,” said Aaron. “We have to buy Wallace the time he needs.”

Helper continued to squeal in a way Aaron had not heard before. He was motioning towards the weapon, trying to express something in his panic.

We get it. We need to buy time.

“Fight,” Aaron yelled, and he took off towards the ruined South Stand. There, he immediately threw up his arm and let out a pulse that obliterated three greens in a split second. The taker behind them threw itself aside just in time to avoid a matching fate.

Fiona grabbed chunks of rubble and tossed them at the greens, caving in brittle skulls. Then she unearthed a sharp scrap of metal that had once been part of the stadium’s seating. She used it to gore the enemy while Sophie and Morgan raced to help her, but the three women were quickly forced backwards as the enemy continued to pile into the stadium.

“There’re too many,” said Ryan. He pulled out a catapult from his pocket and produced a small sack of marbles. He loaded a ball bearing and loosed it, sending the steel orb twenty metres across the pitch and right between the eyes of an infected woman.

Aaron glanced at him. “When the hell did you turn into Rambo?”

“Nowt much to do on the road except shoot marbles at glass bottles. The fireworks I found in the backroom of a dodgy old warehouse in Carlisle.”

“You’re right,” said Aaron. “We can’t defend ourselves without weapons. Shit… what do we do? Should we run?”

Ryan aimed and loosed another marble. “No. We have to give Wallace time. Even if we die doing it. The whole of the planet is relying on us, right?”

Aaron nodded sombrely, wishing it wasn’t the case. Wishing that, for some surreal fucking reason, the fate of the world didn’t rest on him.

How the hell did I get here? How is the world relying on me? Of all the people in the world?

Aaron felt something inside him change and realised what it was. He leapt forward and threw up his arm, unleashing another pulse. The shimmering air obliterated a pair of greens.

Ryan shook his head in astonishment. “You want to teach me that, our kid?”

“The lesson is too expensive, trust me.”

The enemy continued piling in, backing everyone up towards the weapon. Sophie and Fiona had to help Helper to walk. His manic squeals had become an exhausted wheezing. Something was clearly bothering him, and it didn’t seem to be the attacking enemy.

What’s wrong with him?

“Oh shite!” said Ryan. “It’s another one of them.”

Aaron turned and saw a titan. It was small compared to most, formed from only four or five bodies, but it stomped its way into the stadium at ten feet tall. At the same time, a large taker, dressed in armour like the one dispatched earlier, came clambering through the rubble, too. A duo of ordinary takers followed, adding to the half-dozen already inside.

Aaron felt woozy. We’re fucked. All we can do is delay.

His vision caught Cameron’s pale corpse impaled on the copper pipe, and he tried to imagine that his brave friend was still alive. Cameron would’ve thrown himself into the fight, no matter the odds.

“Feck it,” said Aaron. “You only die once.”

He raced at the titan but then dodged aside as it swung at him and launched himself at an infected man. He punched the green in its face and knocked it down, but it wasn’t a killer blow. That hadn’t been his intention.

The nearby greens, and several takers, pivoted and gave chase, attempting to surround Aaron. It caused them to move away from the weapon, and away from Wallace, who was still interfacing with the strange pulsating orbs.

Nearby, Helper had fallen to the ground, too weak to remain standing. Sophie, Morgan, and Fiona stood over him, ready to defend their alien friend, but they were becoming surrounded.

Ryan launched more marbles, focusing on a nearby taker who roared with anger as the projectiles peppered its flesh.

Aaron ducked down and picked up a sharp piece of wood. It looked like part of an advertising board because it had the red logo of a well-known drinks company on it. He used it to stab an infected woman in the head and pulled it back out afterwards.

Aaron then turned to find a new target, but he found himself suddenly airborne and breathless.

The armoured taker had clubbed him in the side, but he had luckily moved with the blow and deflected the worst of it. All the same, he came crashing down onto his back, his fingers clutching at the turf underneath him that was wet with a foul green oil.

The taker spoke into his head. Over is.

For you, yes, Aaron replied.

No, said the taker triumphantly. For mankind.

Aaron frowned, not understanding why the taker thought it had won. Wallace was deactivating the weapon right now. Without it, the takers were doomed to suffocate as more and more corkscrews got destroyed.

The taker swung at Aaron again, this time striking his shoulder and causing him to roll across the turf in agony. He still held the shard of wood, but it would be useless against the thick hide of a taker. His friends were all engaged in battle and trying to stay alive. Ryan was still firing marbles, unaware of Aaron’s plight.

The taker stood over Aaron and made one of those mocking noises that was a perversion of human laughter. Over is. Ours will be.

“Never,” said Aaron. “You’re nothing but a footnote in our history, the thing we needed to advance beyond what we were. One day, we’ll be travelling the universe hunting you down. You went and fucked with the wrong team.”

The taker stopped its laughter and raised an arm. The air shimmered.

Aaron steeled himself and said, “This is gunna hurt me a lot more than it hurts you.” He then stabbed the shard of wood right into his thigh.

The pain was immediate, like fire inside his muscles, blazing up and down the nerves of his thigh. He shoved the shard deeper until an agonised scream erupted inside his head.

The taker stumbled backwards, its pulse hitting the ground harmlessly. It clubbed at its own face, as if its many eyes were burning. It squealed like a pig.

Aaron clambered gingerly to his feet while he had the chance, his shoulder full of sharp pains. “You ain’t laughing any more, are ya?”

The taker convulsed, losing control of itself. Soon it would recover, but Aaron didn’t intend to let that happen. He stepped forward and raised his arm and released a pulse that unmade the taker in less than a mouse’s heartbeat.

Aaron doubled over and gasped. The greens that had been pursuing him had moved away and were now closing in on the weapon. Ryan tried to take them out with marbles while Wallace continued to work on the controls, but he couldn’t deal with them all. Behind him, Wallace continued to hold his fans against the vibrating orbs. The entire weapon was pulsating, the fleshy globs moving upwards into an open chamber.

How much longer does Wallace need? Is he going to make it?

Greens were everywhere, but Fiona, Sophie, Morgan, and Ryan did all they could to dodge around and distract them. The titan swung a vine-like arm at them, narrowly missing each time. It was slow and cumbersome, and several times it crushed greens with its errant swipes.

Several takers stood amongst the chaos, but they did little to involve themselves.

Why aren’t they trying to stop Wallace?

Helper was still lying on the ground, but he was dragging himself, one-armed, towards the weapon. He moaned in agony and despair. Something was very wrong with him.

Aaron closed his eyes and focused. He tried to imagine Helper’s pain. What it would feel like. What it would sound like. He tried to reach out to Helper with his mind, to snatch at the invisible strands between them. He saw the atoms in the air, the chemicals that made up everything. The frequencies that made up life. Then he felt Helper.

What is wrong, Helper?

Aaron?

Yes. What is wrong?

Helper thought a word that was too alien to understand, but Aaron had a sense of what it was. It was a name. The true name of the alien that Ryan had christened ‘Wallace’.

Wallace? Asked Aaron, opening his eyes again now that he was comfortably locked in on Helper. What about him?

Helper turned on his side, searching for Aaron amidst the chaos. When he found him, he stared at him with his large, leaking black eye. Traitor.

Aaron hobbled forward on his bad leg as quickly as he could. “Oh fookin’ hell.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Aaron raced towards Wallace, but a pair of takers quickly cut him off.

That’s why they stayed back. They want Wallace to succeed. They’re trying to stop me from reaching him.

Aaron had to dodge backwards to avoid a pulse. Then an infected woman lashed out with her talon and caught him across the ribs. He clutched at himself and swore, his hand already bloody.

The enemy filled the stadium. Ryan, Sophie, and Fiona were finding it harder and harder to find space. Wallace remained at the weapon, doing…

What? What is he doing?

He’s activating it. Why?

Aaron moved aside to avoid getting whipped a second time, but he could barely stay on his feet. His thigh was filled with white-hot needles, and his ribs were aflame with the agony of torn flesh. Eventually, he fell onto his knees, unable to go on. He spat blood onto the oily turf.

Fiona stumbled onto her front, ten feet away from him, sliced across the arm by an infected man in a Manchester City shirt stained with bodily fluids. Sophie had an arm around Morgan, who was cowering in terror. Ryan fired marbles as quickly as he could, but his arms were shaking with the exertion.

Aaron tried to get up, but his legs were rigid. He took a breath and tasted copper, not just from the blood in his mouth, but from the air.

The top of the weapon split open like an opening flower, and a purple gas erupted into the atmosphere. Mankind was finished. The Earth had finally shed its dominant species. Soon, a new one would fester and grow.

A taker spotted Aaron lying on the ground and approached, but Aaron did nothing to defend himself. There was no point. Best it just be over with quickly.

The taker stumbled and fell. At first, it seemed like mere clumsiness, but when the creature ended up on its face, unmoving, it was clear something had killed it.

Gunshots rang out around the stadium. Aaron rolled onto his side – something that took him several seconds – and saw people in the stands, on the pitch. Everywhere. Hundreds of people. Some were armed with guns, but a majority wielded only blades and clubs. Amongst them were a dozen blues, each with their fans vibrating.

Greens fell like dominoes, convulsing on the ground. Takers roared and squealed as men attacked them and blues eviscerated them. Many humans died in the rapid onslaught, but their sudden, overwhelming assault had taken the enemy completely by surprise.

Renewed with hope, Aaron clambered to his knees. From there, he made it to his feet. His friends were still in danger, surrounded by greens over near the base of the weapon. Behind them, Wallace continued to betray them. They had no idea.

Morgan fell to the floor as Sophie let go of her in order to fight. Ryan tossed down his catapult and pulled out a knife. He planted it in the skull of an infected man but couldn’t retrieve it. So he resorted to wrestling, picking up men and women by the thighs and dumping them on their heads. Unlike Aaron, Fiona, and Sophie, Morgan and Ryan were not immune to infection. The talons whipping at them would prove fatal.

Aaron ducked as a green swung at him. He was too wounded to fight back, so he ducked and staggered forward towards his friends. Five or six greens closed in on them, their talons raised over their heads.

One slice to the neck and it would all be over.

Aaron wasn’t going to lose anyone else. Not today. Not while there was still a chance they could stop the enemy from winning.

Staggering forward, he raised his arm and let off a pulse that took out four greens standing in a row. Only one remained standing, and Ryan quickly kicked its legs from underneath it and stamped on its head. He looked at Aaron and nodded. A second later, and things would have turned out differently.

A full-on war broke out inside the stadium, men against alien. Natives against invaders. Blues against takers.

But the takers were too few, and the greens were fragile husks. This was Manchester’s last stand, and every man and woman was prepared to go down fighting.

The blues turned their focus on the titan, pulling at its limbs with invisible force and stripping away great chunks of fungus-covered flesh. One of its legs gave way and it went toppling to the ground like the giant at the top of the beanstalk. Once down, the humans hacked at it with machetes and knives.

The blues then dealt with the takers, edging their pulses and then pulling them apart while they were defenceless. The humans were opportunistic, finishing them off as they weakened.

Within seconds, it was all over. The enemy dead.

But it was too late.

The weapon had deployed, releasing a deadly purple gas into the air.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“What the hell is that?” asked Ryan, staring up at the toxic purple cloud.

Helper moaned on the ground. “Death… Death to… mankind.”

Morgan covered her mouth. “Wallace couldn’t stop it.”

Aaron shook his head, and when he looked over at Wallace, he saw the alien had stepped back from the controls and was at ease. His work was done. “No, he activated it. He betrayed us.”

“What?” Ryan scrunched up his face. “What are you talking about?”

Helper reached out with his crumpled fan. “Traitor. Fugitive. Collaborator.”

“Is he saying…?” Sophie frowned. “That Wallace is working for the enemy?”

“No,” said Ryan. “No way. He saved my arse a dozen times on the road. I’d have died in a coma if not for him.”

Aaron stepped towards Wallace, trying to read him. But with no human expression, it was impossible. In fact, Wallace didn’t move a muscle. He turned back to his brother, seeing the pain in his face. He must have felt the same way about Wallace as he did about Helper. “Helper communicated with me, Ryan. He told me Wallace is a traitor.” He raised his hand towards Wallace but couldn’t summon a pulse yet. But as soon as he could…

“Necessary,” said Wallace, using his voice and backing away. “Survival.”

Aaron stepped towards the alien, focusing on destroying him. “Well, you have about two more seconds of that.”

“Mercy.”

“Not for you.”

Ryan shook his head, mouth opening wordlessly. It looked like he wanted to stop Aaron, but didn’t.

The air in front of Aaron started to shimmer.

Something squealed from nearby. It was a blue. Seeing Aaron threatening Wallace caused it to raise a fan and aim it at Aaron.

Aaron doubled over in pain. Buzzing flies filled his head, and pressure swelled in his stomach. It dropped him to his knees in agony. “St-Stop!”

“Hey!” Ryan lunged at the blue, but he was knocked aside by a second. Then, more surrounded him, raising their fans threateningly.

A whole host of bewildered humans stood around in confusion. Most of them looked up at the sky, confused and horrified, but others called out to the blues, trying to make them back off. Confusion reigned.

“What the hell is going on?” Fiona yelled. “Why are they attacking us?”

“Because they’re not our friends,” said Sophie. She glared at a squat blue alien with yellowish marbling that had its fans pointed at her. “They never were. They played us from the start.”

Aaron shook his head. “What are you saying?”

“I mean, they have no planet of their own, do they? The takers destroyed their homes, so they need a new one. Seems like everyone wants a piece of Earth.”

Aaron knelt next to Helper, refusing to believe it. “No… No, it can’t be. Helper, have you been lying to us this whole time?”

No. Helper spoke into Aaron’s mind. Never lie.

One of the blues squealed and threw up its fan. It was looking at Wallace, seeming to have just noticed him. A chorus then broke out, two-thirds of the blues turning to face Wallace all at once. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor.

Wallace sprang to life, turning and fleeing on three legs. Several takers tried to block the others from giving chase, but they were outnumbered and pushed aside. Soon, two dozen blues were chasing Wallace across the field.

In his panic, Wallace knocked aside several humans. This display caused other people to react, and one man sporting a shotgun unloaded it into Wallace’s flank. It knocked the alien clean off his feet, and before he could get back up, the other blues had surrounded him. They lifted their fans as one and made them vibrate.

Wallace screamed. Some of the blues protested, but they went ignored as Wallace’s thick torso split open, blue blood squirting into the air and organs spilling out.

Ryan moaned. “Stop! Stop this. He’s… He’s my friend.”

Aaron grabbed his brother’s shoulder, partly to keep himself standing. “I think this is between them.”

Aaron communicated with Helper and absorbed a general narrative from his alien friend. Wallace, and a small subgroup of blues, had been allowed a single planet to live on in exchange for allegiance to the takers. Some had come to Earth to assist with the invasion – mostly to help counter the majority of blues who had come to assist mankind. Wallace and his people were seen as traitors by the homeless aliens – the majority of whom were willing to fight the takers until the bitter end. Like humanity, the blues had differing allegiances.

Sophie came over and hugged Ryan, collapsing into his arms. Morgan dropped to the turf and lay on her back, breathing in and out deeply. Fiona watched Wallace being butchered with something like satisfaction on her face.

While the helpers tortured and mutilated Wallace, several others surrounded Helper. As one, they placed their vibrating fans on his body. Aaron understood enough to know what they were doing.

It took almost ten minutes, but when Helper eventually rose to his feet, he was tall and strong again. He was still missing a fan, and was covered in scars, but his flesh was unwounded and his movements were once again smooth and pain free. He turned to face each of his fellow blues and appeared to thank them.

Then he turned to Aaron and spoke with his voice. “Wallace not me. Not us.”

Aaron nodded. “I get it.”

He looked up at the sky, now completely filled with poison gas. Already his eyes burned, and his airways were stinging. “What now? What’s going to happen?”

Helper took a step forward and focused his eye on Aaron. “Humanity die. I am… sorry.”

“What? No, can’t you stop the weapon? Wallace was able to work it.”

“Wallace enemy. Knowledge given.”

“What do you…? Do you mean he had the codes or something? Shit!” Aaron turned away to stop the blues from killing Wallace, but it was too late. He was a sticky pile on the pitch. Dead, and the codes along with him.

Aaron looked around at the blues. Some of them had wanted to help Wallace. “Do any of you know how to stop this? One of you must.” He looked pleadingly at Helper. “What about those who tried to help Wallace? They were on his side just now.”

“No, Aaron. Not on side. Only sympathetic. Mercy. Understanding. Beliefs… complicated. Killing our own… rare.”

Aaron shook his head. He couldn’t accept that nothing could be done. “If Wallace was a traitor, then at least one of these blues must be, too. Wallace wouldn’t have been the only one.”

Ryan sighed next to him. “Yeah, brother, but if they were on Wallace’s side, they aren’t going to speak up now, are they? They wouldn’t do anything to stop what’s in motion.”

Aaron deflated, seeing the fatal logic. Even if the code existed in the mind of one of the gathered blues, there was no way of knowing which to accuse. No one was going to help him. No one was going to save mankind from extinction.

“We… We failed.”

Ryan went to grab him by the shoulder, but Aaron ducked away and hobbled off. He needed some fresh air, but of course, that would be impossible. The best he could hope for was space.

Old Trafford was littered with bodies, like the days of Roy Keane and Jaap Stam. Of course, these bodies were all bleeding out and dying. Greens, takers, and humans. Even a blue lay dead with a wide slice across its eyeball. Multicoloured blood soiled the turf – human red, friendly blue, and toxic orange – and it mixed with the green oil pooling out from beneath the weapon. More and more of the sky above had turned purple, an ink stain spreading across tissue paper.

Most of the takers had been eviscerated, but a few of them twitched in agony. There was the pop-pop of sporadic gunfire outside the stadium, which suggested some were still waging war to make it inside the stadium, but there was little reason for them to fight now that they had won.

A taker writhed on the ground ahead, and Aaron moved towards it. The least he could do now was aim a pulse at its head and keep it from enjoying its victory. His thigh was numb and he could barely bend his knee, so it took him several moments to hobble over. He glanced back at his companions, but they were all standing around the weapon, frozen in shock. Strangers milled about the pitch aimlessly, not seeming to know what to do. The blues communicated with each other silently. At least they were going to live.

The taker turned onto its back, perhaps sensing Aaron’s approach. When it looked at him, it was strangely familiar, despite the gash across its face and the massive leaking hole in the centre of its slender torso.

Help.

The voice inside Aaron’s head had no accent or tone, yet he recognised it as familiar. It had a built-in identity as part of its frequency. This was the soldier who Aaron had spared. Be safe, he had said, but instead it had returned to battle. Had it done so with no choice? Or had it been intent on spilling human blood?

You want me to help you? Aaron replied, wondering if he actually wanted to put this thing out of its misery, or just let it suffer. It wouldn’t survive its wounds either way.

Help you.

Aaron frowned. Help me? What do you mean?

Take me… to the… weapon. It reached out and touched his leg with its bulbous limb.

“What are you…? I…” Aaron’s head filled with thoughts that were not his own. He turned back to face his friends and yelled out, adrenaline rooting him to the spot like a streak of lightning. “Help. I… I need help over here.”

No one understood, but everyone came running. Ryan and Sophie reached him first.

“What is it?” asked Ryan.

“We need to get this taker to the control panel.”

Sophie frowned and looked disgusted. “Why?”

“Because it owes me one. Come on, just trust me.”

No one wanted to touch the bleeding alien, but Aaron barked at them until they did. They grabbed it underneath its thick limbs and dragged it across the turf. It left a slick, orange trail behind it, and it began to fade, its many beady eyes growing dim.

“We need to hurry,” said Aaron, unable to help with only one hand.

Fiona grabbed the taker’s leg, but it did little to speed things up.

As they neared the weapon, the blues formed a wall and raised their fans. The dying taker moaned in pain as they assaulted him with their harmful frequencies.

Aaron put his hand up and yelled. “Stop! Don’t hurt him.”

But the blues did not listen. The wound in the taker’s torso widened.

“Stop! Please, don’t do this.”

There was a high-pitched squeal that filled the entire arena. Helper pushed his brethren aside and stood over the wounded taker, who was moments away from death. Despite the clear protests of the others, Helper dropped on top of the taker and began to heal it.

“Thank you,” said Aaron. “Thank you.”

Trust, Helper replied inside his mind.

When the taker got back to its feet, it was no longer wounded. It was, however, disorientated. Aaron had to prod it in the back to move it towards the control panel. The blues were clearly unhappy – repulsed even – but they allowed the enemy to pass.

Slowly, the taker shook off the cobwebs and became alert. It turned and glanced at Aaron, seemed to hesitate, but then pressed both meaty limbs against the pulsating orbs. Immediately, the purple toxins in the air swirled, like they were caught in the middle of duelling winds.

The blues murmured with discontent. One of them raised a fan, but Helper leapt in front of it and stared it down.

“What’s going on, little brother?” asked Ryan. “This doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“What harm can it do? We’re dead if we do nothing.”

Morgan cleared her throat. She was still on the ground, but now sitting. “What if it alters things to kill both us and the blues as well? It would mean you just handed complete victory to our enemy.”

Aaron felt a wave of nausea at that thought. As things stood, humanity would die, but Helper and his people would live. That sucked for humanity, but it was better than letting the takers have the Earth completely to themselves.

“Maybe I should stop him,” said Aaron, and he took a step forward. But Fiona put a hand out and stopped him.

“Look,” she said, pointing at the sky. The purple toxin was rapidly dispersing, pushed aside by a silvery gas that settled in the sky as a perfect, crystalline blue. “That looks like a good sign to me.”

Helper moved over to the taker and lifted his fan. Atonement. The taker turned slightly and seemed to nod. It was vibrating with exertion as it interfaced with the weapon, but it didn’t stop. What it was doing would mean its death, yet it was doing it anyway. It was saving humanity and killing its own kind. A soldier with a conscience.

Could it be true?

After several minutes passed, the sky became a beautiful, unspoiled blue, and the taker walked away across the pitch. It clambered over the rubble and exited the stadium. Aaron had a feeling he would never see it again. He didn’t even have a name for it.

But he would never forget it. Grateful is.

No enemy was one hundred per cent bad.

There’s no such thing as pure evil, Aaron thought to himself.

Somehow, that only made things worse.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Aaron and his friends rested on the pitch for over an hour, too beaten and exhausted to move. Then, Helper and the blues rendered their healing powers upon them and gave them back their strength. Aaron felt more alive and energised than he had in months. His cuts healed and his sliced-open thigh knitted itself back together. If only the blues could restore lost limbs.

I’ll take it. I’m alive when so many are not.

He stood with Cameron’s body for a while before asking Ryan to help him remove it from the copper pipe. Together they carried him over to Old Trafford’s centre circle and placed him down with his hands across his chest. Sophie, Fiona, and Morgan joined the gathering, and they all said a few words and spilled a few tears. He wasn’t the first friend they had lost in this war, but there was a chance – greater than ever – that he might be the last.

Before leaving, Aaron offered Cameron an apology. “I wish you’d been able to die on Scottish soil like you wanted, pal, but England accepts you. You are a warrior, Cameron Pollock, and we are proud to have you. I’ll never forget you. None of us will.”

They exited into a ruined city full of hope.

The sky was purer than it had ever been, pumped full of life by the weapon that had become an elixir. There was no pollution, alien or otherwise, and the sun shone brightly with a golden brilliance. People came out of hiding, battling against the remaining takers and greens, but after a few hours something amazing happened.

The takers began to suffocate.

The first signs of it were subtle. A taker let out a pulse and obliterated a blue that had been trying to take it down. Then it stumbled for no reason. Several more lost their balance as if light-headed. They went low, unable to stand fully. What came last was the convulsions as they fought for air – for life. But only death awaited them.

The last of the takers were dead by the time the sun hit the horizon. Darkness brought salvation. The greens were still an issue, but after so long surviving, mankind was more than capable of dealing with them. Soon, whatever corkscrews were left would be destroyed, and the greens would be a problem no more.

Two dozen blues flooded throughout the moonlit city, healing survivors and eliminating greens as if they were nothing more than pests. The quiet horror of the ruins gave way to triumphant cries and laughter, as people realised the enemy was no more. Dead takers and greens littered every street.

Sophie and Ryan cuddled as they walked, not saying a word but smiling constantly. Fiona was silent, no doubt thinking of how close she had come to sharing this with Coben. Morgan reached out and took Aaron’s hand. When she placed her head against his shoulder, he almost yelped with surprise. But then he felt a happiness he had never known.

Whatever came next would not be easy. The world had been destroyed. Billions dead. And the universe was not as empty as they had assumed. But what mattered most was that there was a next. This was not the end. In fact, it might just be the beginning.

As they trounced through the ruined city, on their way to nowhere in particular, Helper lifted a fan in the air and made a single word. End.

EPILOGUE

Getting to Edinburgh had not been easy. Despite the takers being dead, and the greens rarely being seen, there was still a severe lack of motorised transport. No one knew if electricity could be restored, but it didn’t seem as important a thing as it once had been. Everyone agreed that returning to the old way of life was not for the best. The world of profit, progress, and exploitation should remain in the past. Humanity had to remain united if it had any chance of surviving into the future. People understood this on an instinctual level.

Every human being was a friend to another. People helped one another. Loved one another. They had all been given a second chance that billions had not. Mankind’s extinction had been averted at a monumental cost. Every survivor had to earn their place.

It had taken a week and a half of trekking to reach Scotland’s capital. They could have made the journey quicker, but it was nice to enjoy the returning landscape without a fear of death. Aaron saw flowers and bushes for the first time, and more and more animals as the days went by. Squirrels, foxes, badgers, and dogs. Every species on Earth was no doubt sprawling back into existence, striving to establish itself once again. Who knew how things would settle?

Edinburgh was filled to bursting with people. Every road had food stands and trinket sellers. For a fair barter, you could trade for chicken satay or a child’s scooter. There was a gold rush to reclaim the remnants of life, but fortunately, people had thus far resisted greed and ruthlessness. Trade was conducted in the spirit of fun and reclamation, rather than a battle between value and profit. If someone was starving, then a vendor would happily take a skipping rope for a large loaf of bread made at one of the city’s bakeries. Aaron even traded an old Top Gear magazine for a massive bag of liquorice. A gift for someone dear to him.

Sophie led the way through the city, having lived there for a while. Morgan, Ryan, and Aaron followed closely, taking in the sights. Fiona, of course, was with them, rubbing her belly and smiling. After two mornings of vomiting during the last week, Helper had examined Fiona with his fan, seeking to take away whatever bug was affecting her. Turned out it was a baby making her sick. Coben had left a parting gift: a piece of himself. Whatever happened in the years ahead, Fiona was never going to be alone again. The news had changed everything for her, and she hadn’t stopped smiling since. The only thing troubling her was what to name the baby: Cameron or Cammie. Fate would decide that.

“Here,” said Sophie, pointing. “This is the clinic Nancy and I worked at. She might still be here.”

They entered an old leisure centre, and Sophie took them through into a basketball court filled with three lines of three beds. Only two beds had patients.

Sophie turned towards the corner of the room, where a line of tables had been set up with chairs. There, a slender man in a baseball cap worked. When he turned to see them, his face lit up. “Sophie? I can’t believe it’s you!”

“Told you I’d be back. How have you been, Nathan?”

“Things are good. It’s finally over, from what I hear. The invaders are all dead.”

She nodded. “It’s true. Hey, guess who this is.” She reached out and took Ryan’s hand. Aaron chuckled as his brother blushed.

Nathan shook his head in disbelief. “Ryan? You found him? Well, good for you.”

Aaron smiled. “I take it you two worked together? Hope it was innocent.”

Sophie dug him in the ribs. “Shut up, you!”

“Good to meet you, Nathan,” said Ryan, showing no ill will. Petty emotion was a thing of the past.

Sophie suddenly grew serious, the levity leaving her face. “Is she…?”

Nathan’s expression grew sombre too. “I promised you I’d take care of her. I kept that promise.” He nodded his head to the side, to one of the beds.

Sophie gasped. Then Ryan and Aaron did the same.

“S-Sophie? Is that you?”

Ryan, Aaron, and Sophie rushed to Nancy’s side. She looked a hundred years old. Her face was a mess of wrinkles and thin black veins. Her breathing was shallow, her voice husky. She was close to death.

“It’s me,” said Sophie, brushing a hand over her forehead. “What happened to you?”

Nathan joined them and gave an answer. “It’s happened to a lot of people. The acidic air affected their breathing, mostly those with underlying conditions. We hoped to see improvement after the air cleared, but the damage was permanent. I’m sorry, Sophie, but…”

She nodded, showing she understood. Aaron understood, too, and he couldn’t keep the tears from his eyes. “Mam, I’m sorry. I tried to get to you. Things have been—”

“My beautiful boys,” she said, beaming. “You’re both here. Am I… am I dead?”

Aaron shook his head. “No, Mam. Sophie brought us here. She came and got us.”

Sophie reached out and held Aaron’s hand, while holding Ryan’s on the other side.

“She’s the bravest woman I’ve ever known,” said Nancy, and then she coughed, a trickle of blackish blood staining her lips. “I knew she would return you to me. If she says it, she does it.”

Sophie chuckled. “I didn’t dare let you down, Nancy.”

Nancy laughed and coughed at the same time, expelling more black blood. “I’m glad my boy has someone like you. Thank you.”

“She’s more than I deserve,” said Ryan, tears on his cheeks.

Nancy nodded. “Bloody right she is. Take good care of her.”

“I promise, Mam. Can we do anything for you?” He turned to Nathan. “Can’t the blues do anything?”

Nathan shook his head. “We tried. Whatever this is, it affects people on a deep level, like a disease. The blues can’t put it right. It’s just too embedded.”

Aaron groaned. He hadn’t even thought, in all his grief, about getting Helper to try to do something, but hearing that it was impossible took the wind from him.

“It’s okay,” said Nancy, and she actually sounded happy. “I have you all here. Whatever time I have left is going to be a gift.” She began to cry. “I’m going to die happy, so don’t be sad, okay? My beautiful boys.”

“I just wish we could help,” said Ryan. “Mam, we must be able to do something. After all we’ve been through to get here…”

For a moment, Nancy just looked at Ryan and Aaron. Then a twinkle filled her eyes and she said something. “Actually, there is something you can do for me. A dying wish.”

Ryan and Aaron looked at each other and frowned.

“Is that liquorice?” said Nancy with a phlegmy grunt.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss.”

Aaron beamed as he watched his brother kiss his sister-in-law before one of Edinburgh’s last remaining priests. Few people believed in God any more, but a wedding was a pleasant reminder of the things that had once been good. Not everything needed to remain in the past.

Sitting beside Aaron in a wheelchair, Nancy was also beaming. It had been four days since they had entered Edinburgh, and her strength had returned a little with the joy of seeing her sons again. Right now, she was munching on liquorice and positively glowing with happiness. No one was in any sort of denial about her chances. She had only a matter of days – weeks if lucky – but for now she was alive. Alive and fulfilling one of her life’s wishes – to see her eldest son get married.

Ryan had searched the entire city for a priest, terrified that Nancy would run out of time, but he had succeeded and now he was a happily married man. Aaron was happy, too, for so many reasons. Not least for Morgan sitting to his left and holding his hand. Their relationship was a meek one, full of slow steps and constant reassurance, but the trust between them was growing. They were a team, and together they fought off the loneliness and fear that night brought. They reminded each other that there was still a future and things to enjoy. Love would prevail.

The wedding was full of strangers who wanted to celebrate Ryan and Sophie’s joy. Any joy was worth celebrating these days.

Edinburgh was a sprawl of construction and teamwork. Shelters were being erected and farmland restored. A new nation was forming in the north and everyone wanted to be a part of its growth. Under the democratic council of the Northern Sanctuary Government, formed with a manifesto of equality, humanity, and teamwork, the city was alive with the spirit of hope. In the south, the Bristol Bulwark continued to grow under similar conditions, as did Birmingham’s Central Council. All across the world, mankind was no doubt rebuilding. What the end result would be was anyone’s guess, but most hoped for a better world than the one that had been destroyed.

Part of the reason people predicted a better world was because of the blues. Edinburgh had already accepted them as full citizens, decreeing that they had fought for Earth’s survival as much as mankind had, and had a right to call the planet home. Mankind and the blues would stand united as Earth’s guardians. Allies until the end of history. There were tens of thousands of blues in total, but mankind would have happily accepted more.

The world was yet to regain party planners and wedding venues, so Ryan and Sophie had arranged a shitload of booze and some decent food to be delivered to a grassy hill on the edge of the city. There they sat and enjoyed the company of Aaron, Fiona, Morgan, and Helper. In the spaces between, Aaron saw Boon, Brett, Sean, Tom, Coben, Cameron, Loobey, John, Liam, Gavin, Miles, and so many others. He poured a drink for all of them, as well as for his mam, resting back at the infirmary.

“Hey,” said Morgan, just as the sun set. “Isn’t the best man supposed to give a speech after the wedding?” She nudged Aaron in the ribs. “That’s you, right, babe?”

He immediately blushed at the thought of speaking in front of everyone, but then felt ridiculous. Public speaking would have mortified that sweaty teenager playing video games in his bedroom, but he was a warrior now. And warriors feared nothing. So he shrugged. “I can say a few words if everybody would like.”

“Go for it, our kid,” said Ryan, raising his bottle of beer.

Aaron stood up, brushing the grass from his jeans. He took a swig of his beer, enjoying the fuzzy feeling in his head. “Okay, here goes. To start with, I should probably say that I’ve changed a lot in the last year.”

Everyone chuckled.

“To say the least,” he continued. “But one thing that’s never changed is my brother’s love for Sophie. He literally survived the end of the world to get to her. And her to him.”

Sophie smiled and rested her head against Ryan, who put an arm around her.

“I would really like to go on about how Ryan and Sophie are the reason we all fought to survive these last months, and it’s true. Love is a reason to keep going, and it can light up any amount of darkness, but it’s not what kept me fighting. What kept me fighting was the friends I made along the way. Each person I met during this last year has made me stronger and more whole, even as I have literally lost pieces of myself. Loobey showed me courage. Miles showed me compassion. Ryan showed me responsibility. And Cameron showed me what family is.” He looked at Ryan, who flinched with a measure of pain. “I’m talking about the family we get to choose. I love you, brother, like you’d never believe. I love my new sister, too, Mrs Cartwright.”

Everyone cheered.

“But I once met a Scot who hated everything about me. He hated that I was English. He thought that I was soft. His language was foul and his manners even worse, but despite that, he saved my life repeatedly. That giant Scot put himself in danger for me time and time again.”

“Me too,” said Fiona, raising her bottle of water.

“I think he did for a lot of us,” said Ryan.

Aaron nodded. “Cameron got past his anger and hate, his resentments and guilt, and he came to accept every one of us. He fought for every one of us. To me, he showed us what it is to be human. Cameron fought to be a better man and succeeded. I hope all of us can do the same in the years to come. I hope all of us can show his compassion and bravery. There are many reasons I am here today, able to enjoy my brother’s happiness, but a big part of it is because of that big, foul-mouthed Scot who once hated me – and eventually loved me.” He raised his beer. “I love you, Cameron. And Coben, and John, and Miles, and all the people who gave their lives so that we can toast to them right now. Let’s never forget a single one of them.”

“To all of them,” said Sophie, raising her beer.

Helper raised his fan. Happy birthday.

Everyone frowned and looked at him.

Helper vibrated his fan again. Happy celebration.

Aaron smirked. “You need to work on your vocabulary, mate. Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of time. We love you, too, Helper.”

Helper rocked back and forth and used his own voice. “Family.”

“To family,” said Ryan.

“To family!” said everyone.

Everyone chatted and celebrated until deep into the night. Eventually, Aaron was so drunk that he needed to take a walk. He strolled over to the edge of the hill, overlooking the torch-lit city that had stood for hundreds of years and would hopefully stand for a thousand more. Morgan came to join him, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“You okay?” she asked him. “You’ve had a sadness about you tonight, mixed in with the happiness.”

He looked at her and smiled, his breath still taken by her beauty. Then he looked up at the stars. “I suppose I just feel guilty to be here, you know? Of all the people on the planet, why do I get to be part of the future? I took my life for granted. I wasted so much of it…” He let out a long sigh. “There were a lot of people much more deserving than me.”

She nodded. “I feel that, too, but maybe we have more to offer than we realise.”

“You think? You think we can earn this chance we’ve been given?”

She hugged him a little more tightly, shivering against him. “The fact you’re asking that question tells me the answer is yes. If I’d never met you, Aaron, I’d still be locked in that attic. Probably dead. You’ve done as much good as anyone. Like you said, it’s all about the future now. Forget the past.”

He was still staring up at the stars. “What if they come again? Or something worse?”

“I don’t think there is anything worse. In the meantime, all we can do is not take life for granted. Every second is precious, right?”

He turned to look at her. “More precious than I ever knew.”

She leant in and kissed him, their first truly intimate meeting of the mouths. Once she pulled away, he was breathless. “I… I’m going to fall in love with you, Morgan. Would that be okay?”

“I suppose it will have to be. Most of the good men are dead.”

He gasped and then laughed. “Shit, girl, that was cold.”

She shrugged. “If you can’t enjoy a little black humour after the world has ended, when can you?”

“Good point.”

She nudged him. “I’m going to fall in love with you, too, Aaron. I think I decided that the moment you rescued me. My very own one-armed prince in shining armour.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Always with the one-armed jokes.”

“You’re tough enough to take it.”

He looked back up at the stars. “I’m softer than you think.”

“Then let me take care of you, Aaron. You deserve it.” They kissed again, and this time they didn’t break apart for a very long time.

* * *

Hey there, reader:

So there we have it. The end. It’s always sad when I have to say goodbye to a set of characters, and if I did my job right, it will be sad for you, too.

Cameron is one of my favourite characters I’ve written, so deciding his fate was tough. Ultimately, I decided he was a hero in a time of war, and would find himself at sea once that war was over. It was better for him to go out in a blaze of Scottish pride rather than try and fit into a civilised world again. Growing old and trying to put the battles behind him while rebuilding society would never have suited him. I hope you forgive me for letting him go.

To offset that sadness, I reunited Ryan, Aaron, Nancy, and Sophie. That has to get me some brownie points, right? Also, I never killed Helper. Do you know how hard that was for me! I didn’t kill the cutie.

Anyway, I truly hope you enjoyed this series. If you did, then it would be great if you could leave a review or recommend me to a friend. No problem if that’s not your thing. I’m grateful just for all the time you have already given me.

If you need something new to read, then you can get six more of my books absolutely FREE by joining my newsletter (I send emails about twice a month). Click the following link to get the FREE ebooks sent straight to your Kindle or other reading device: https://freebooks.iainrobwright.com/backmatteroffer

Thanks so much for reading,

Iain Rob Wright

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PLEA FROM THE AUTHOR

Hey, Reader. So you got to the end of my book. I hope that means you enjoyed it. Whether or not you did, I would just like to thank you for giving me your valuable time to try and entertain you. I am truly blessed to have such a fulfilling job, but I only have that job because of people like you; people kind enough to give my books a chance and spend their hard-earned money buying them.  For that I am eternally grateful.

If you would like to find out more about my other books then please visit my website for full details. You can find it at:

www.iainrobwright.com.

Also feel free to contact me on Facebook, Twitter, or email (all details on the website), as I would love to hear from you.

If you enjoyed this book and would like to help, then you could think about leaving a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or anywhere else that readers visit.  The most important part of how well a book sells is how many positive reviews it has, so if you leave me one then you are directly helping me to continue on this journey as a full time writer.  Thanks in advance to anyone who does.  It means a lot.

ALSO BY IAIN ROB WRIGHT

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- The Gates, Legion, Extinction, Defiance, Resurgence, Rebirth

- TAR
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Sarah Stone Thriller Series

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Other

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Iain Rob Wright is one of the UK's most successful horror and suspense writers, with novels including the critically acclaimed, THE FINAL WINTER; the disturbing bestseller, ASBO; and the wicked screamfest, THE HOUSEMATES.

His work is currently being adapted for graphic novels, audio books, and foreign audiences. He is an active member of the Horror Writer Association and a massive animal lover.

www.iainrobwright.com

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