Date: 2017-06-14 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Post Apocalyptic; Science Fiction; Fiction; Fantasy; Dystopia; Adult
Description: Abel wanders the wastes, scratching out a meagre existence until he finds something incredible...the Wizard of the Wasteland. Terrified of being alone with his demons, Abel joins the travelling showman, passing off pre-apocalypse technology as objects of magic and intrigue. When they stumble upon a group of children, enslaved by the brutal drug gang The Family, Abel must risk everything he has to save them. But having the wizard at his side might not be enough...
Publisher: No World Press

Wizard of the Wasteland

Wasteland, Volume 1

Jon Cronshaw

Published by No World Press, 2017.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

WIZARD OF THE WASTELAND

First edition. June 20, 2017.

Copyright © 2017 Jon Cronshaw.

Written by Jon Cronshaw.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Want a prequel?

1. The Wizard

2. The Family

3. Town

4. Bullets

5. The Addict

6. The Ball

7. Moby Dick

8. The Machine

9. The Pit

10. The Distraction

11. The Shore

12. Apples

13. Clearing

14. The Cave

15. The Gift

16. The Chair

17. The Grid

18. The Shop

19. The Tin

20. The Garage

21. The City

22. Moonshine

23. The Cart

24. Cigarettes

25. Cutting

26. Disposal

27. No Life

28. The Whale

29. Sanctuary

30. Ashes

Author’s note

About the Author

Dedicated to the memory of Ronald Jones (1927-2017).

Want a prequel?

GET THE PREQUEL NOVELLA Addict of the Wasteland for free here: subscribepage.com/getmyprequel

1. The Wizard

THE STRANGER ROLLED into town at dawn, his cart rumbling through the gap in Trinity’s towering fence.

Abel squinted at the sun’s orange glare as it rose over the rooftops. “Come on, Pip.” He patted his thigh. A brindle-haired dog looked up at him and ran in a tight circle, her tail wagging. He passed huddled shacks as people gravitated towards the new arrival.

Abel followed the gentle sloping dirt track towards the entrance as Pip trotted at his left. Trinity wasn’t his home, but Sal always gave him a bed and meal when he came to trade. Chickens darted in haphazard zigzags, confined by a line of wire mesh to his right, shedding feathers as they avoided the dog. The looming crucifix beyond the fence spread shadows across the rooftops. Children ducked past him, laughing as they chased each other.

A brown and grey mule lumbered forward, its head bowed as its rider brought the cart to a halt. The cart rocked on four rubber tyres. Garish daubs of blue and gold paint stretched along its sides.

Engulfed by dusty blue robes, the man dropped down from the cart, reached behind his seat, and pulled on a pointy blue hat. He turned to the residents. “Ladies and gentlemen. I am the Great Alfonso. They call me the Wizard of the Wasteland.”

Abel joined the edge of the crowd as Pip sniffed around behind him, unconcerned by the stranger. Pip had been with him since he got off plez. She was the best reason he had to stay clean.

People stepped aside for Trinity’s priestess, Sal, as she moved through the crowd to speak to the wizard, her dreadlocked hanging loose from her hooded robe.

The wizard offered her a grin. “My good lady, am I correct in assuming that you are the Sal these good people have been talking about?”

“That's right.” She folded her arms. “And you are?”

The wizard removed his hat with a flourish and bowed his head. His skin was darker than Sal's, his hair an explosion of twisted curled, streaked in black and grey. He raised his yellow-tinged eyes to meet Sal’s gaze. “Madam, if you please, I am sure my reputation precedes me. I am the Wizard of the Wasteland.” He lifted his chin, offering her a toothy smile as he spread his arms wide. “I am the magnificent, the splendiferous, the incomparable, Great Alfonso.”

Sal shook her head, letting the silence hang in the air for a long, awkward moment. “Sorry, I've never heard of you.” She examined his cart, running a finger along the whorls of paint. “Are you a trader?”

“Yes, yes,” The wizard raised his voice and a finger. “But more.” He smiled again and swept his gaze across the gathered faces. “What I offer is the wonder of the Great Alfonso's magical extravaganza.” He threw out his arms.

Abel smirked as a few titters spread behind him. What was this guy trying to pull? He’d seen his fair share of chancers and conmen, but this was something else.

“Magical what?” Sal tilted her head.

“What I have for you today, ladies and gentlemen, is the culmination of many years of tireless research into the arcane arts of magic and alchemy, a glimpse into our once great past, now long lost to dust.” The wizard grabbed a handful of soil and let it fall between his fingers.

“I still don't understand.”

“My good lady, you strike me as an intelligent woman, which is why I will ask you to be my first volunteer.”

She looked around and shrugged. “Okay.”

The wizard shuffled around the side of his cart, unbolting a series of locks. An oak panel swung down on a pair of hinges, bouncing for a moment against its supporting ropes.

The onlookers moved in closer as the wizard arranged apparent junk along a series of shelves—an ancient television set with a curved grey screen and wood panel casing, a fish tank, a hand generator in black and brass, and a toy car.

Abel raised his eyebrows at the objects, wondering where the wizard acquired them. The electrical items would be useless, but some of those things were worth a lot in trade.

The wizard lifted the car from the shelf, its red paint faded to a cloudy pink along its edges. He retrieved a key and made a show of pushing it into the car’s rear. “With this ancient and magical key, I could bring power to this otherwise inanimate object.” He placed the car flat on the panel and turned the key, the mechanism clicking and crunching. The wizard muttered an incantation, closed his eyes, and wriggled his fingers over the toy. Letting go, the car shot forward and hurtled over the edge, landing in a clump of soft grass.

A few people applauded.

“Thank you, thank you. You are all most gracious.” He lowered his head and returned the car to its shelf. “What you've seen here is just a mere hint, a mere glimmer of the extent of my magical powers.”

He took something else down, turned to the crowd, and raised a pair of binoculars above his head. “Behold! These magical eye lenses allow their user to see objects that are far away as though they are right in front of your very eyes.” He handed the binoculars to Sal and showed her how to look through them, gesturing for her to point them towards the spherical form at the top of the water tower.

A hush dropped over the crowd as she looked through the lenses. “These are wonderful. Where did you find them?”

“That, madam, is a secret.” The wizard tapped his nose with a forefinger. “Please, pass those round, let the other members of your wonderful community experience this glimpse into the possibilities of alchemy and magic. But, please, do be careful.”

People took turns looking through the lenses. Abel smiled at the gasps of awe and the occasional burst of laughter. When they reached him, he focused on the wizard rifling around one of the shelves. He looked down at a tug to his elbow.

A kid jumped up and down with eager excitement, clapping his hands and staring at the binoculars. He handed them to the boy, took a moment to show him how to use them, and turned his attention back to the wizard.

The wizard held up a light bulb. “As you will observe, this is a simple globe of glass. I would offer to hand this round so you can witness for yourselves my ingenious design. But, because the magic is so powerful and so very dangerous, I will instead ask that you all take a few paces back to give me room to perform this most incredible and delicate of feats.”

He placed the light bulb on the panel and checked the wires were connected to the hand generator. He stepped over to the dynamo and muttered an incantation with a raised chin and half-closed eyes. Smiling to the crowd, he wound the handle.

A low hum and sharp crackle of electricity emanated from the generator as he turned the handle. A scattering of gasped spread around the wizard as the light bulb glowed a brownish-yellow. “As you could see, with this ancient magic, I have created fire within this glass. I'm sure you will agree that this might be the most marvellous, magnificent, magical accomplishment you have ever had the good fortune to witness.”

He stopped abruptly, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, now rapt. He raised his right forefinger with a sudden jerk. “Oh, but there is more.” He made a dramatic turn, his robes billowing in an expanse of dusty blue.

The crowd moved forward with hesitant steps as they strained to get a closer looked. The wizard disconnected the wires from the light bulb, placed it in a pot filled with cloths on the middle shelf, and connected the wires to the television. He turned back to the crowd, spreading his arms wide. “I must ask again that you take a few steps back. This is very ancient and powerful magic. What I am about to show you is the most amazing sight. Where are the magical lenses?” He waited a few moments for the binoculars to return to him. He looked through them, smiled again, and placed them on a shelf. “With those lenses, you were able to make objects far away seem as though they were close enough to touch. Using the same principles, I have devised and constructed a magical box that allows you to see over great distances to lands to the west, beyond the lawless zone.”

He reached for the hand generator and cranked the handle again. The belt hummed, crackling and sparking as the smell of burning rubber filled the air. He leaned over to the television set, muttered a spell, pushed a button, and kept turning the handle.

White noise hissed from the television's speaker as the screen came to life in a random array of white, blacks, and greys—a dead signal. “As you could see, ladies and gentlemen, what we are witnessing is a window into another land, another land shrouded in—what is it?” He tilted his head and rubbed his chin. “A dust storm, perhaps?” He dropped the handle and turned to the audience with a dramatic shrug.

The white noise fell to silence, the screen fading to black. The gathered crowd applauded as the wizard made a deep bow. “Thank you, thank you. You are all too kind.”

“What I am about to show you now may be my greatest miracle, the pinnacle of my magical achievements.” His expression turned grim. “I warn you all that this is ancient and powerful magic and urge you again to stand back.” He reached up to the fish tank on the top shelf and took it down, placing it carefully on the flat panel.

He pulled out a green frog, holding it up by one leg for the audience to see, its body squirming as its free leg flailed wildly. Stepping over to Sal, he dangled the frog before her. “Madam, please do me the honour of telling the members of your wonderful community what you see before you.”

She glanced over her shoulder and shrugged. “It's just a frog.”

“It's just a frog! Never has a truer phrase been uttered. So you will agree that this is a living, breathing frog? You agree there is no trickery, no shenanigans? It is, as you say, 'just a frog'?”

She nodded. “As I say, it's just a frog.”

Without ceremony, the wizard swung the frog against the panel. He waited with his back to the crowd for several seconds and raised the lifeless body for all to see. “As you will observe, the life of this frog has been taken.”

He turned his attention back to Sal. “Madam, would you like to take a moment to examine this frog, assure the ladies and gentlemen gathered that this is the same frog?”

“You killed one of God’s creatures. I wouldn't call that magic.”

“And you would be correct in that most astute of observations.” He offered her a slight bow. “There was no magic in killing a frog, but as much as it pains me to do it, as much as it pains me to take the life of an innocent creature, it was unfortunately a necessary component of the Great Alfonso's most important magical discovery.”

The crowd looked on in silence as the wizard laid the frog flat. He took the wires from the television, attached the crocodile clips to the frog's torso, and muttered the words of a magic spell, making complex shapes and symbols in the air with his fingers. He turned to the crowd, made a solemn expression, removed his hat, and bowed. “Observe.” His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. He stepped over to the generator and turned the handle, building up a rhythm until the belt hummed again.

The frog's right leg twitched. The wizard wound the handle faster, smiling when the frog convulsed, its arms and legs quivering spasmodically. Dropping the handle, he placed his hat back on his head and turned to the audience. “As you have seen, ladies and gentlemen, the Great Alfonso has brought this frog back from the dead.”

He turned back to the frog, now limp, and dropped it into the fish tank. He faced the crowd, taking in the applause. “Thank you.”

A few men shook their heads and walked away. Children ran over to the wizard, jumping up and down as they asked him questions. The wizard closed his cart.

Abel smiled at the wizard and weaved through the crowd, making his way over to Sal. “What did you make of that?”

She pushed out her bottom lip. “He’s clearly a charlatan.”

“Yep. But he certainly knows how to put on a show.”

“It's just technology from before the end times. There's no magic to it.” Her eyes grew narrow as a few residents led the wizard’s mule away to be fed and watered.

“I know.” Abel rubbed his beard, trying to understand her hostility. “But you have to admit, it’s pretty fascinating stuff.”

A frown spread across her face. “You're not seduced by this fraudster are you?”

“No.” His protest came out more defensive than he would have liked. “I'm intrigued. It's been a long time since I’ve seen anything with real electricity.”

Sal nodded. “Perhaps.”

A tall man with pale skin and dark hair wandered over.

Abel forced a smile. “Jacob.”

“You look healthy. I take it you're still keeping clean?”

“Yep.” He bristled at the implication in Jacob’s tone. He’d been clean for over a year, but it was the same question every time he returned to Trinity. They were good people, and the settlement was the best place to trade this side of the Grid. “I'm just going about my business as usual. No plez for me.” He knelt next to Pip and rubbed the fur behind her neck. At least she never judged him.

“Good to hear. God willing, let’s hope you can stay that way.” One corner of his mouth twitched as he turned to Sal. “What's the plan with our wizard friend?”

Sal shook her head and sighed. “I don't know. The residents are clearly taken with him. Might cause friction if we ask him to leave.”

Jacob cast a cursory glance towards the wizard. “What do you say? We treat him like any other trader and hope he went by the morning.”

“I don't trust him.”

“Come on, Sal.” Abel gestured towards the fence. “It's hard out there. He’s surviving. It's different, I'll grant you, but he's not raiding, or dealing. He looks like he's probably clean.”

She raised her hands. “You're probably right. But, I still don't like it. This promotion of magic and mysticism doesn’t sit well with me.”

Abel smirked. “Just a different kind of magic to what you’re used to. You've got God, this guy's got...” His voice trailed off at Sal’s glare.

She turned to Jacob. “He can stay for breakfast, but then I want him gone.”

––––––––

THE COMMUNAL HALL RATTLED with chatter and movement. Abel took a tin plate from a pile moving along the central table. He sat at the end of a long pine bench as Jacob took a seat to his right, handing him a clay cup.

Abel passed the plates along to Sal as she took a seat to his left at the head of the table. Pip rested against the front of his legs, warming his feet with her body heat. The wizard slid onto the seat across from him.

Taking a boiled egg from a tray, Abel watched as fresh slices of bread made their way towards him. If there was one thing Trinity did well, it was food. He offered the wizard a smile. “Where are you from?”

The wizard gave a half-shrug. “My travels take me far and wide.”

Abel nodded. “You ever been by the Grid?”

“The Grid?” The wizard pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes. I went there once. I seem to recall having half of my things stolen.”

“Yep. That’s the Grid.” He took two slices of bread when the tray reached him, dropped one onto his plate and slipped the second to Pip.

“Where do you get the items for your show?” Sal asked.

The wizard shuffled in his seat, raising his chin. “Many years of exploration, painstaking research, and alchemical experimentation.” He made a wide gesture with his hands. “Understanding the ways of the ancients, understanding the inner workings of magic is something I've made my life's work.”

Jacob gave an incredulous smirk. “You may have most people believing what you do is magic. That's fine. You're a showman. I get it.” He raised a silencing hand when the wizard poised to speak. “You've obviously found a haul of technology from before the end days and worked out how to use it for your little show.”

The wizard rose to his feet. “I have never...”

“Sit down. You can eat with us and trade, or you can leave now.” Jacob shrugged one shoulder. “Either works for me.”

The wizard stuffed a slice of bread into his mouth and frowned.

“Jacob, please.” Sal glared at him. “That's no way to speak to our guest.”

Jacob nodded and raised his hands. “You're right.” He turned to the wizard, offering a handshake. “Great Alfonso, if that was your real name, please accept my apologies.”

“Of course.” The wizard returned to his seat and examined his fingernails. “I understand that my work can sometimes leave some people feeling...” the wizard hesitated, as if reaching for the word. “...uncomfortable.”

“My issue is that you've found this important technology, the ability to generate electricity, but instead of doing something for the betterment of everyone, you waste your time on a frivolous magic show.”

The wizard got to his feet again, snatched another slice of bread and stormed out, his dusty blue robe flapping behind him.

“What did you do that for?” Sal pursed her lips.

“He was only walking away because I told him the harsh truth.”

Abel leaned away from him. “I've got a lot of respect for you, Jacob, but Sal's right. You say what that wizard guy does is frivolous, that it's not for the betterment of others, yet I saw the faces of the people. There's not much in this damn world to smile about. You've got your God, but a flesh and blood man showed these people something real, something miraculous.”

Jacob sniffed. “It's just pre-fall technology. There's nothing magical about it.”

“It didn’t need to be magical. It's still something marvellous. It’s sad that you can’t see that.” Abel stood and turned to Sal. “Are we okay to trade? I should get on the road.” Pip jumped to her feet, tail wagging.

“You ready, girl?” He leaned down and patted Pip’s back.

––––––––

THE TRADING HOUSE STOOD dark and musty. A cocktail of smelled hung in the air—old clothes, damp leather, paraffin, and bread. Abel's eyes adjusted slowly to the candlelit gloom. He stepped around tables scattered with shoes and clothes, car parts and cutlery. He stepped over to a sagging table piled high with books, scanning the familiar titles. “Anything new?”

Sal shook her head and folded her arms. Pip sniffed around the bottom of her robes. Sal looked down, smiling.

Abel heaved his backpack onto a table and took out a pencil and a ruler. He reached farther and pulled out a copy of the New Testament. “I remember you saying you'd offer me top trade if I ever found any Bibles.”

“This is in wonderful condition.” She turned the leather-bound volume in her hands, its gold relief title flashing against the candlelight.

“Yep.” He walked around the tables, examining the goods. He picked up a child’s doll, pink, naked, and grimy around the fingers and toes, its hair a tangle of matted blonde. He shook his head and placed the doll back. He’d never had a child of his own. “I've not seen anything great around here to trade though. I don't think I'd be able to carry the amount of tins I could get for this.”

Sal nodded. “There was something that came in. A piece of old technology, something electrical.”

“What am I going to do with something electrical?”

“This is different. You'll see.” She opened the door at the far end of the room, hidden by shadows, and emerged a few seconds later holding a black cylinder, a little longer than her forefinger.

Abel took it, feeling its coldness and weight. He stared into the glass lens and gestured to its handle. “What does it do?”

Without a word, Sal turned its handle and grinned as yellow torchlight passed across her face.

His jaw dropped. “How?”

“You think this will be enough for the Bible?”

“Yep.” He scanned the tables. “Throw in a few tins, and you've got yourself a deal.”

She flicked through the Bible's pages again, smiled, and shook her head. “Fine, fine. You win.” She walked over to a pile of unlabelled food cans, grabbed four, and dropped them into his backpack. “What are you going to do now?”

He shrugged. “Get back on the road, I guess. Head back east.” She always asked him questions like this, as if he had some kind of grand plan. It was hard enough to survive. He swung the backpack onto his shoulders and adjusted the straps. “Hopefully, I won't bump into anyone from the Family again.”

“You’re past that part of your life.” She placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It's still hard though. It never leaves you.” He had wasted far too much of his life on plez, too much time robbing and stealing. Staying clean was everything, but the yearning was always lingering in his mind like some half-heard echo. It was the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing on his mind when he closed his eyes to sleep. They always said you could never get off plez, but he did. And every day was a fight to keep it that way.

Sal offered a gloomy smile as she embraced him with a hug. “You look after yourself, and look after this one.” She gestured to Pip.

“Thanks, Sal.” He patted his thigh, clicked with the side of his mouth, and headed to the door. “Come on, girl.”

2. The Family

ABEL HEADED EAST ALONG the highway. He pulled his cap low over his eyes, protecting them from the dazzling sunlight. A stillness filled the air, a dryness. Pip ran on ahead, sniffing along the warped central barrier, its surface barnacled in rust and lichen. The highway sloped down for miles, swooping in gentle waved towards the distant smudge of the city. He’d walked this highway too many times.

He passed wrecked cars and dead trees, his footsteps softened by the thick moss and gnarled roots extending along the asphalt. Gaunt pines made way for lush oaks, poplars, and apple trees. To his right, the ground sloped down to form a steep embankment. He glimpsed a greyish-white flicker of something through the trees. He patted his thigh, called out for Pip, and stood at the highway's edge looking down at the backend of a wrecked truck.

Scanning the trees, he stood and listened, waiting for movement. He’d been caught unaware on the roads before and he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

He scrambled down the embankment, his balance shifting against loose stones as they tumbled to the ground below. He steadied himself with his hand as his left foot slid beneath him.

Pip ran down the bank with ease and sniffed along the truck's half-deflated tyres. He’d met Pip the day he became clean. He may not have believed in God, but there was something about them meeting that felt like fate. They relied on each other. This was no world to be alone.

Reaching the bottom, Abel wiped his brow, removed his cap, and looked around. Trees cast shadows like twisted fingers. A square of flat concrete lay cracked and obscured by stains and trailing vegetation. He stepped over to a pile of broken branches and bits of plastic and crouched to look. He shook away some of the brownish-grey dust, moving the branches aside as dried strips of grey fungus drifted to the ground.

Pip poked her head between Abel's right arm and torso, sniffed at the wood, then licked his face. He laughed and wobbled backwards, losing his balance.

Pip jumped back a few steps, bowed, and rested her forelegs against the ground. She gave a playful growl and jerked to her feet.

“You want to play? Do you? Do you?” He patted the ground with his right hand, then his left.

Pip ran forward and pushed her wet nose against his fingers.

Taking a stick from the pile of wood and plastic, he held it just out of her reach. He let her run around him in circled and moved the stick out of her way every time she leapt to grab it with her teeth. “Nearly. So close.”

Pip panted.

Abel grinned.

She ran in a loop, charged towards him, feints to the right, then jumped up and grabbed the stick. She twisted the branch from his hands and shook her head with a frantic burst. She turned in a circle, flopped onto her belly, and gnawed on the branch with the side of her mouth, lumps of wood and drool dropping around her.

Abel got to his feet, brushed his hands together and tickled Pip behind her ear. He turned his attention to the truck. He found the cabin’s passenger door locked, so he went around the other side and mounted a rusted footplate to pull the driver’s door handle, and staggered backwards when it snapped off. “Damn it.”

He stepped away, scratching his head. Looking around, he dropped his backpack to the ground and considered the cabin's broken windows. He pulled himself up onto the steps, and made sure no broken glass poked through the perished rubber seal around the window frame.

Taking a deep breath, he heaved himself up, his feet scrambling against the door for purchase. With a sigh, he dropped back to the ground. Sweat seeped from his forehead and the back of his neck. Perhaps he was out of practice, or maybe he was just getting too old for scavenging.

He wiped his hands, spat on them and rubbed them together. Pip looked up at him for a moment then turned her attention back to the branch, holding it down with one paw as she tore off the bark with her teeth.

He walked around to the other side of the cabin. Grunting, he pulled himself up, his arms trembling as they took his weight. The truck groaned against its suspension when he finally heaved himself into the cabin, coughing as a cloud of dust exploded from a bench seat, its upholstered cover damp and blackened by mould. A cluster of silverfish scattered. He flipped open the glovebox, freeing it from crumbling hinges.

Curling his lip, he looked around for somewhere to put the glovebox cover, its surface sticky against his fingertips. He placed it on the seat next to him and checked inside to find it empty.

He checked under the seat, wrinkling his nose at the death-stench of rotting silverfish. An ancient food wrapper and a few slivers of paper lay scattered at his feet.

Sighing, he caught sight of Pip in the wing mirror, and raised an eyebrow. He leaned forward, examining the glass. He pulled the door lock, but nothing happened. Frowning, he slid back out of the window and moaned as his weight crushes against his belly. He dropped to the ground on his feet, staggered, brushed himself off, and looked up at the wing mirror. A thin layer of dust coated its surface. Speckles of rust crept through the glass in the top-left corner, the remaining glass clear. He reached up and let the mirror’s bracket take his weight until it bent and snapped free.

Smiling, he walked over to his backpack and opened the top flap. He took a cloth from a side-pocket, wrapped it around the mirror, and dropped the bundle inside the main compartment.

A gust of wind scooped up a whirlwind of dust and rattled the branches around him. He glanced up at the sky—the last thing he needed was another dust storm.

He made his way around the truck's rear and tried the shutters, cursing under his breath when they didn’t budge. He shifted his weight against them, pushing upwards. “Come on,” he said through gritted teeth.

He looked down as Pip’s tail lashed from side-to-side. “Not now.” He tried again, strained against the resistance, and dropped to his knees, exhausted. “Damn it.”

Defeated and panting, he glared up at the shutters, tugging at his beard. He let out a long sigh and shouldered his backpack. “Come on, girl.” He patted his thigh. “Let's go.”

––––––––

PIP BOLTED UP THE EMBANKMENT and looked down at Abel from the highway, her tongue drooping from the side of her mouth.

Abel gripped exposed tree roots and heaved himself up.

At the top of the bank, he crouched on one knee to get his breath back, patted Pip’s side, and followed the line of the road, shifting his gaze towards the city.

Wind rustled through the trees around him. He pulled up his collar.

He found nothing of use in the ancient car shells dotted along the road—scavengers before him had picked them clean. He spotted movement ahead and ducked behind a twisted thorn bush. “Come in, girl.”

Pip raised her head, her ears twitching. Abel watched her and then watched the dot of movement in the distance. He knew his eyesight wasn’t as good as it used to be. He’d wondered how much of this was because of his age, or whether it was because of the drugs.

He got up and gripped the hunting knife inside his jacket. He walked towards the movement with hesitant, cautious steps. There was no need to present himself as a threat, but that didn’t mean he could go strolling in without care. He’d played this game countless times before. Most people on the roads were indifferent at best. Some were friendly and willing to trade. Others were hostile or looking for a victim to fund their next hit. As he drew close, the shape of a person came into focus. He scanned the hillside to the left, sweeping for signs of more movement, signs of a trap. The figure flapped with agitated jerks.

Pip moved along the road with a raised tail, her ears erect and pointed like a jackal. He followed her lead, making himself visible. Pip lay down ahead, watching.

Catching up to her, he crouched by her side and stroked her back. “What do you think, girl? Shall we take a look?” He patted her side and got to his feet on creaking knees.

The man ahead wore blue, his clothes billowing with the wind. Abel approached, one hand gripping his knife and the other fingering his pistol. As he moved closer, the man looked up, his skin dark, his eyes bloodshot.

“It's you.”

Abel offered him a smile and took his hand away from his knife. “The Great Alfonso.”

“What do you want?” The wizard regarded him with suspicion.

Abel shook his head and raised his hands. “Just saying hello. Nothing to worry about.”

He looked past Abel and gave a slight nod. “What's your dog doing?”

Abel glanced over his shoulder as Pip sniffed at the wizard's cart standing stationary at the roadside. “She's just taking a looked. She's friendly.”

“Yeah?” The wizard moved over to his cart and crouched next to the nearest wheel with his back to Abel.

“What's up?”

The wizard shrugged. “Wheel's snagging. Can’t seem to get it moving.”

Abel raised an eyebrow. “Your voice is different.”

The wizard stiffened.

“It's okay.”

The wizard turned, narrowed his eyes, and made a show of sizing Abel up. “You came to preach at me too?”

“Nope. That why you left?”

The wizard nodded. “That guy was getting under my skin.”

“Yep. Jacob can be a bit prickly, but they're good people.”

“Yeah? Prickly, or just a prick?” The wizard pushed himself to his feet and leaned with his back against the cart. “Why you sticking up for them?”

Abel shrugged. “They were the only ones who were there for me when I...when I was sick. It's a good place to trade, get food. They even put traders up for the night.”

“They didn't offer to put me up for the night.” The wizard folded his arms, top lip curling.

“I don’t think you gave them a chance.”

“They were hostile, man.”

“I think you scared them with your show.”

The wizard scoffed. “Yeah?”

“Yep.”

The wizard’s mule took a step backwards as Pip sniffed at its nose.

“You just running with that dog?” The wizard strode over to his mule.

“Yep.” Abel looked at Pip and smiled.

The wizard stroked the mule’s mane and waved Pip away. “What are you?”

Abel gave the wizard a bemused looked. “What do you mean?”

“You a raider?” The wizard narrowed his eyes. “A dealer?”

“Definitely not a dealer.” He shook his head. “I find things and trade them.”

“Yeah? What sort of things?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Books, stuff from before.”

The wizard nodded. “You know about books and things?”

“I know when I see a book I can trade.”

“Could you read the words?”

Abel scratched his beard and nodded. “Yep.” He’d learned to read while he was getting clean.

The wizard raised his eyebrows, pushed out his bottom lip, and nodded to himself. “That's good.” He patted the mule’s side. “You ever teach anyone?”

“Nope.”

“It's a dead skill. You're lucky, man.” The wizard's eyes brightened. “You should read to people, travel the roads. I bet you’d get some good stuff in trade.”

Abel shook his head. “I've been reading for less than a year. Not sure I could stand in front of a crowd and do it.”

“If I could read, that’s what I'd do. I'd do my show, read stories from before. People would love that.”

“That's not me.”

“If we worked together, we could make a great show.”

Abel shrugged. “Not for me.”

“That's too bad.” The wizard walked back round the side of his cart. “You seem alright.”

Approaching the cart, Abel ran his fingers along the swirls of blistering paint. “Ever thought about doing more?”

“More what?”

Abel patted his hand against the cart's side. “You've got some great things here. I bet you could do so much with the things you know. Things with electricity. I got this...” He reached into his jacket, took out the wind-up torch, and turned the handle. “You've got something like this. I bet if we could find the right stuff, the right books, we could make things better.”

The wizard let out a bitter laugh. “Look around you.” He swept his arms in a wide arc. “This is it. We just got to keep on.”

“Just keeping on kept me on plez for years. You have to strive for more. Otherwise what’s the point?”

“You're starting to sound like that guy from Trinity.”

Silence hung between them for several seconds. Being alone was hard, but running with someone who was happy just getting by, especially when they had the knowledge to do so much more, wasn’t enough. Abel frowned, patted his thigh, and called for Pip. “It's been nice meeting you again. Take care on the roads.”

“Wait. I...” His voice trailed off.

“We're looking for different things.”

“You eaten?”

“Not since Trinity.”

“I got a few tins we could share. It's not Trinity food, but food’s food.”

Abel nodded. “Sounds good.” Pip bounded towards him with something furry gripped between her teeth. He smiled. “You like rabbit?”

––––––––

TWO TINS OF BEANS SIMMERED while the rabbit dripped fat over the campfire, causing it to hiss and spit.

“Can’t believe you’re cooking it like that.” Abel dropped a bundle of sticks next to the fire. “You could use that fat.”

The wizard looked up at him and frowned. “I’m hungry. I don’t have time to make a pot.”

Pip lay straight, crunching on a bone with her back teeth while she held it steady with her paws.

After a while, Abel wrapped his hands with a strip of cloth, took the tins from the fire and let them cool to one side. He squatted over the tins, stirring the beans with a steel dessertspoon. “You get much trouble on the roads?”

“Sometimes.” The wizard sighed. “Things are worse than they used to be. People are okay in the most part. It's the dogs, you know?”

“Yep.” Abel smiled at Pip. “They aren't all like this one.”

“That's for sure. I got a nice long spike. They're usually so stupid, they just run into it.”

“Where is it?” Abel rose to his feet.

“Huh?”

“The spike. Where is it?”

“In the cart.” The wizard gestured through the trees, up the slope towards the highway.

“Can I see?”

The wizard frowned. “Good idea. If anything comes, it's good to be ready.” He stood, and ambled up the slope to his cart. After a minute or so, he returned brandishing a steel rod, four-feet-long and sharpened to a point at one end. He turned it over and drove it into the earth.

Abel examined the rod, but didn’t touch it. Instead, he took a tin of beans and handed it to the wizard. He turned the rabbit over the fire and sat crossed-legged with his back to the flames, picking up his own tin to eat.

The food was warm and satisfying. He smiled as the beans broke up in his mouth, combining with the sauce. “There's a truck,” he said, between mouthfuls. “About a mile or so back that way.” He gesture vaguely with his spoon.

The wizard looked up from his beans. “Yeah?”

“It's got a locked trailer. I tried to get into it earlier. I think we might be able to lever it open with that.” He nodded towards the rod.

The wizard glanced over one shoulder. “I'm not leaving the cart. And, no offence, but I'm not letting you walked off with my best weapon.”

“What if I help fix your cart? That way you could come with me and split whatever we find.”

“I can do that.”

––––––––

ABEL WAITED AS THE wizard tied the mule to a tree away from the highway.

Pip ran on ahead, zigzagging when she picked up a scent.

“You think your mule's going to be alright?” Abel asked when the wizard joined him.

“Hope so.” The wizard looked back along the road to his cart hidden behind a bush at the roadside. He gripped the rod in his right hand, using it as a walking stick.

“It's not too far. It's a bit of an awkward climb down though.”

“How long you had the dog?”

Abel shrugged. “A year, I guess. We met when I left Trinity.”

“About the same with the mule. He's slow, but he'll keep going, you know?”

“Yep.” They follow the gentle slope up along the road. Pip stopped at the edge of the embankment overlooking the truck. “We're here.” He smiled back at the wizard. “Take it easy climbing.” He crabbed his way down the slope, grabbing an exposed root when a clump of earth shifted beneath him.

“You okay, man?” the wizard asked, calling down to him.

“Yep, just watch your footing.” He scrambled the rest of the way down, taking each step with care, testing the ground before committing his weight. He let out a relieved sigh when he reached flat ground, took off his cap, and wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

Pip circled him for a few moments and ran off, disappearing into the bushes.

Above, the wizard struggled to find a safe route. “I can’t get down,” he called.

“You're doing okay, just take it slow.” Abel scanned the embankment and pointed to a rocky outcrop. “Head to those rocks. Roots poked through. You should be able to get a good grip.”

The wizard moved along to the left, his feet slipping against the falling soil. He tumbled, landing flat on his back with a thud. The metal rod clanged against a stone and rolled along the ground.

Abel ran over to the wizard and extended a hand. “You okay?”

The wizard gave a breathless groan. “Knocked...wind...out...”

Abel stepped back, looking around. “Just take deep breaths.”

The wizard gasped, his fingers groping for the metal rod.

“Don't worry about that.” Abel crouched, hooked an arm under the wizard's neck, and strained to lift him to a sitting position.

“Thanks, man.”

“Anything hurt?”

The wizard rolled his right shoulder and something popped. He made a grasping motion with his fingers, neck bones popping. “I'll be fine. I'll have some bruises.”

“You okay to move?”

The wizard nodded. “Yeah. Help me up.”

Abel offered a shoulder as the wizard staggered to his feet and go over to the truck.

“Any idea what's in there?”

“Nope. Let's find out.” Abel leaned down, took the metal rod in his right hand, and walked over to the truck's rear. He slid the spike beneath the shutters and pushed, levering it up and down, trying to force it open. He moved the rod along the crack and signalled to the wizard for help. “You okay to grab this?”

The wizard joined him, gripping the rod tightly, and, together, they forced it down until something snapped inside the lock.

Abel smiled at the wizard and raised the shutters. The stench of decay filled the air. A rat darted past them and disappeared beneath the truck.

“I don't like the look of this.” The wizard held his nose.

“I've seen worse.” Abel flapped his arms to clear the dust. “Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

Pip joined them. She sniffed along the trailer's edge before returning to explore the bushes.

Abel heaved himself inside. The suspension springs called out in protest as cockroach husks cracked beneath his boots. He reached a hand out for the wizard.

He gave Abel a dismissive wave. “I'll wait here. I'll keep a lookout.”

Inside, Abel spied an upturned crate, a pile of rotten clothes, a few pots and pans, scattered rat faeces, and the former occupant's browned bones. He glanced back at the wizard, wrinkling his nose.

“What is it?”

“We’ve got remains, long dead.” Abel crouched over the bones, but did not touch.

The wizard's eyes grew wide. “We should go.”

Abel shook his head. Something caught his eye to the body's right. He leaned down and picked up a thin length of steel pipe, scorched black at one end. It was something he found far too often—a pipe used for smoking plez. “Damn it.”

“What is it?”

He shook his head. “Whoever this was, was using.”

“Is there any still around? We could trade it.”

Abel leaned from the trailer, meeting the wizard with an icy glare. “I'm having no part in that,” he snapped. “You understand me? No part.” Even the potential of plez filled him with dread. He had been clean for more than a year, and he never wanted to go back to that life, but there was always that part of him that wanted one more hit, just one more. But, it was never just one hit. “I can’t do it.”

The wizard's eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he shrugged. “Whatever.”

Sighing, Abel turned back inside the truck and checked under the crate to find a box of matches and a couple of candles. He dropped them into his backpack. “I think there are a couple of things we could trade.” He picked up a saucepan, heavy and encrusted with dried dirt, and examined it in the low light. A second pan rested farther into the trailer, just as filthy. He scooped them both up and picked up a fork and spoon. “We should get something for these.”

Jumping down, he examined the pans in the daylight. “They look pretty solid. They'll need cleaning up.”

“People trade this stuff?” A crease deepened along the wizard’s brow.

“People need to cook. We could get back to Trinity before night, get some more food.”

The wizard sniffed. “You think they'll welcome me back there?”

“They're good people. They're into all that God stuff, but they're good for trade.”

“Can’t we go somewhere else?”

“Where?”

“There are loads of settlements along the roads. I'm sure we'll find someone to trade with.”

“What if they don't want what we're offering? At least Trinity take anything they could get a decent trade for.”

The wizard gave him a confused looked. “Why bother?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why bother taking in stuff you don’t need? Seems pretty dumb to me.”

“I’ve never really thought about it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “So they could get more stuff, I guess. They get traders from miles around. It’s a great place.”

“They didn't exactly welcome me.”

“True enough, but what were you actually offering to trade?”

The wizard went to speak, his mouth gaping for a second before closing.

“Shall we see what we could do about your cart?”

The wizard nodded and inside towards the pile of bones. “What about that?”

“Nothing we could do about him now.” Abel made a wry smile. “Just close it up. It's already a tomb.”

They climbed onto the trailer and pulled the shutters down with a rattling clunk. Abel patted his thigh, looking around for Pip. “Come on, girl.”

After a few moments, Pip emerged from the bushes, padding along, her tail wagging in the air and a dead rat drooping from her jaws.

“Looks like we've got a snack.”

The wizard curled his lip.

––––––––

ABEL WOUND THE TORCH’S handle, lay down on the ground, and shuffled underneath the wizard's cart. He gripped the torch between his chin and collarbone, groping around the wheel. “Here's your problem.”

The wizard's face appeared to his right, leaning on one side. “Yeah?”

“There's something wrapped around that’s making it stick.” He pulled on the strands coiled around the wheel. “It's too tight.” He shuffled out from under the cart, staggered to his feet, and dusted himself down with his hands. He pocketed his torch, looking at the sky. “We're cutting it fine if we're going to get to Trinity by nightfall.”

“What about my wheel?”

Abel walked over to his backpack and took out his hunting knife. Stepping over to the tangled wheel, he slid back underneath the cart, and dug the knife between the strands. His arms ached against the pressure as he tried to cut at the awkward angle, his knuckles scraping against the axle when the knifepoint slipped. The first strand snapped and then a second. “What is this stuff?” He got himself to his feet, holding up the thin lengths of thread, turning them to catch the light.

The wizard examined them for several seconds. “It's plastic. It's tough.” He tried biting through the line with his back teeth and flinched. “Definitely tough.”

“It's blunted my knife. I'll have to find a stone to sharpen it.” Abel stopped and frowned, his arms dropping to his sides. “What the hell?”

Four kids wearing chains secured around their waists, shoulders, and necks, staggered forward, their bound wrists twisted into prayer. Tattered clothes hung from their gaunt frames, their eyes rimmed with purple. The chains extended to the campervan they dragged along behind them.

Two men with rifles walked at the van’s side, barking orders at the kids. A woman dressed in leathers and brandishing a tyre iron, gestured to one of the boys.

Abel tugged at the wizard's sleeve, pulling him behind a thorn bush. They hide and watch.

“Who are they?” The wizard spoke in a whisper.

“The Family.”

The campervan was longer than the wizard's cart and rolled along on four inflated tyres. Its bodywork, once white, was patched with exposed areas of rust and caked-on mud along its lower half. Small grubby handprints streaked along its side-door. Nailed-down sheets of wood and plastic obscured the windows along its side. The windows surrounding the front cabin remained intact and clear. An empty space gaped mouth-like where the engine would have been. A man went over to the kids, signalling for them to stop.

The kids staggered to a halt. A boy tumbled to his knees. The woman yanked the kid to his feet, slapping him across the back of the head.

Abel jerked to his feet, fists clenched. He’d seen how the Family operated for years, and, from what he heard, things were getting worse. The Grid was hell on Earth when he was there, but they never enslaved children.

“Get down.” The wizard grabbed him, pulling him back. “You want to get me killed?”

“They just hit that kid.”

“They'll do worse to us.”

The woman paced before the kids, saying something to them in a raised voice. The men released the chains from around the kids' waists, shoulders, and necks but left their wrists still bound. The woman opened the side-door to the van and leaned inside. A few moments later, four more kids emerged. They looked around, squinting, confused, their watery eyes rimmed with purple.

The woman ushered the new kids to the front of the van and fastened the chains around their waists and shoulders while a man prodded the other kids inside with his rifle, slamming the door shut behind them.

“What the hell?” Abel tugged at his beard.

“Shut up.” The wizard looked over to his cart. “I hope they don't see my stuff.”

Abel turned to him, lips contorting with disgust. “You're worried about your damn stuff?” He made a wild gesture. “Look at what's happening.”

The wizard shook his head. “Yeah. It's bad. What can we do?”

“We could help them.”

“You're crazy, man. They're just plez kids.”

Those words stung.

The woman shouted an order, and the kids took up the chains' tension. They leaned forward as the van’s wheels started to rolled, the kids’ slow, strained movement half the speed of the wizard's mule.

“They're only kids. Plez or not.”

“You see those rifles? You see them, right?”

“Yep.”

“What do you think will happen if we go up to them and say 'excuse me, Mister Family person, could you release those kids, please?'“

Abel shook his head, helpless as the van passed them. “We need to help them.”

The wizard scoffed. “What can we do?”

A thin smile crept along Abel’s lips. “We could always use your magic.”

3. Town

ABEL KEPT ONE EYE ON the dirt track ahead and another on the slow-moving procession on the highway below. The thin track wound northwards along the hillside through a tangle of sycamore and chestnut trees and the brick foundations of long-flattened buildings. The mule struggled to pull the cart along the track, its wheels snagging as they rolled over potholes and trailing nettles. Abel walked at the cart's side as Pip raced ahead, sniffing around some fern bushes. This wasn’t a trail he’d been on before. He tried to avoid going off the main roads if he could help it. He’d heard the rumours of cannibals and mindless killers living in small settlements, but never believed them—he only believed what he saw.

“Town's not too far.” The wizard gestured along the trail, bouncing on his seat as the cart hit an exposed root.

“Which town? I didn't know there was a town this way.”

“The place is called Town.” He offered Abel a smile. “They like me there.”

Abel swept his gaze along the highway as propeller-like seed casings crunched beneath his boots. The campervan seemed slower from this distance, almost still. He looked back up the trail, ran ahead of the cart, and dragged a fallen sycamore out of the cart’s path. Damp tree bark broke up against his grip, crumbling to rot. “What sort of a name is Town?” He the trunk into a muddy ditch at the trail's edge.

The wizard gave a confused looked. “What?”

“Just thinking aloud.” He re-joined the trail and matched pace with the cart. “Town, it's a bit of an odd name.”

The wizard nodded, adjusting his reins. “Yeah. Town's a bit odd. You got that right.”

After ten minutes, the trail turned flat and dusty, levelling out to a plateau. Brittle grasses poked through the ground at the trail's edge. The pine trees around them stood dead, grey, and coated in a black tar-like fungus. Pip stayed on the trail, her tail high and stiff, her ears pointing upwards, twitching.

“What is it, girl?” Abel asked. Pip looked back for a second and then kept walking, her legs close together. “I don’t like this. She’s not happy.”

The wizard smirked. “It’s fine. No one really comes this way.”

Wrecked cars lay on their sides, creating a wall around the small settlement ahead. Beyond, a cluster of twenty or so huts stood huddled together in a haphazard arrangement—squat, single-storey constructions built from untreated pine draped with polythene sheets. The wizard reached behind him, put on his pointy hat, and smiled. “It's show time.”

“What should I do?”

The wizard frowned and shrugged. “Just play along.”

As they passed the rusted cars, they came to a chicken-wire fence.

A young man with bright red hair and wild green eyes looked up from his whittling. “Pa!” He jumped to his feet, ran over to the fence, and moved it across, welcoming the wizard inside. “You going to have to leave your dog outside, mister.”

“You have nothing to fear from my assistant's faithful hound,” the wizard said.

Abel stifled a laugh.

“Pa say dogs is all bad.”

The wizard climbed down from his cart, closed his eyes and waved his fingers towards Pip. “Second Bob—it is Second Bob, right?”

The young man nodded. His blue polythene poncho flapped against the wind, his hard flesh marked with freckles and acne.

“My good sir, haven't you grown?” The wizard tussled Second Bob’s hair. “Whatever your family are feeding you is turning you into a big strong man.”

“Thanks, mister. But the dog got to go.”

“Using ancient magic, I have cast a spell upon this dog to make her good and friendly. She will not attack you or your family.” He paused, glancing at Pip. “Unless provoked.”

“I don’t know, mister.”

“What would your Pa say if you provoked a dog?”

Second Bob looked at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “He'd be none too pleased.”

“So will the Great Alfonso be granted permission to enter your wonderful home with my new assistant and his dog?”

A crowd of forty or so men and boys gathered around. They all share the same unkempt red hair and wild green eyes and wear the same polythene ponchos. Many of the children have long, droopy earlobes. Some have webbed-fingers. Abel hadn’t believed the talk of inbred settlements, but now he had no choice. He hoped the same couldn’t be said of the murder cults, cannibals and mutants.

An older man stepped forward, standing a head taller than the others. A necklace of rat skulls hung around his neck. His top lip curled along a cleft palate. “You that wizard?” His words spluttered with a lisp and a snort. “We had a few kids get taken. We careful now.”

The wizard took off his pointy hat and bowed his head. “I am the Great Alfonso. Why, we have met before. You are Big Ned, are you not?”

A few men gasped.

“I remember you.” Big Ned folded his arms and sniffed. “You do all magic things.”

“Big Ned, gentlemen.” The wizard flung his arms out. “I have returned with new magic, new spells from the distant past. While my assistant turns my cart around, I will ask a simple question—who can remember when you last laid your eyes on the wondrous, the splendiferous, the magnificent, Great Alfonso—the Wizard of the Wasteland?”

Abel held back a frown as he guides the mule in a broad arc until the cart faced back towards the road. When did he become an assistant?

“I remember.” Second Bob raised his right hand. “You had a tick-tick thing.”

The wizard furrowed his brow, put his hat back on and scratched his beard. “Why, of course! The movement of the magical hands around the circle of life. A gift of ancient alchemy, now, I am afraid to say, lost forever.”

“You lose your tick-tick thing?” Second Bob’s bottom lip quivered.

“My boy, have no fear.” The wizard raised a forefinger. “For through painstaking research and exploration of faraway palaces and libraries, I have come to discover more powerful spells. Some of the most incredible sights you will ever see await you. But, alas, my assistant and I are tired and our legs weary.”

Big Ned raised his chin. “You want eats?”

“Big Ned. You were a wise and thoughtful man. Food for me and my assistant will give us the necessary strength to demonstrate the great mysteries of the unknown.”

Big Ned turned to Second Bob and smacked him across the head. “What you standing for? Get the women make some eats.”

“Pa.” Second Bob dipped his head and ran over to the shacks. Some of the crowd disperse and head back to their own shelters.

Abel walked over to the wizard. “What are these people? Where are the women?”

“I said this place is a bit odd.”

“They're creeping me out. They all looked the same.”

“They don't breed with outsiders.”

Abel scratched his nose. “What was Big Ned saying about kids going missing?”

“Ah, Second Bob.” The wizard smiled past Abel. “What is this fine selection?”

Second Bob dropped a tin bucket to the ground, crouched over it, and poked at its contents with a stick. “We got a few critters, grass bug, a tree critter.” He lifted the charred remains of a squirrel from the bucket, letting it hang limp from the end of his stick. “That good tree critter.”

Abel knelt next to Second Bob and wrinkled his nose at the smell of rotting meat. He examined the skinned animals. Some of the rats were cooked to a crisp. The rabbit lay bent in an awkward contortion, half-raw and turning green along one side. He picked up a rat and moved aside for the wizard who took a rat and the squirrel.

When Second Bob returned to his shack, the wizard tossed the squirrel to Pip. “At least the rats are cooked.” He tore off the rat's tail and dropped it to the ground.

Abel sniffed at his rat and shrugged to himself. Food was food.

––––––––

THE WIZARD RAISED HIS chin and took in a deep breath. With a broad, fixed grin, Abel unfastened the cart’s side-panel. A gasp came from the crowd, now reconvened and standing shoulder-to-shoulder in a semi-circle around the wizard.

“Behold! Today, I will show you wonders hitherto unseen in these parts—the marvels of alchemy, myth, and ancient magic. I do not wish to speak in hyperbole, my good sirs, but what you will see today will be on the tips of your conversations for a generation.”

“What you saying?” Big Ned cocked his head and frowned.

Second Bob’s eyes darted from the wizard to Big Ned, back to the wizard, and back to Big Ned. “He say he got some magic. That we be telling the kids about his spells.” He looked back to the wizard, seeking confirmation.

The wizard nodded. “May I present—the Great Alfonso’s magical extravaganza!” He stood to the side of his cart, gesturing to the crowded shelves—the fish tank in the top-right corner, the television set, and the hand generator. “Gentlemen, children. The enchanted objects you see before you are the wonders of magic and wizardry.”

Big Ned walked over to the cart, folded his arms and gestured towards the television. “What that?”

“My good sir, I must urge you to step back. This is ancient and powerful magic. I would hate for you or one of your wonderful relatives to be struck down by an alchemical curse.”

Big Ned jerked backwards, his eyes drifting along the shelves. “I don't like it.”

Abel walked over to Big Ned and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It's good. You'll see.”

“You are probably wondering what these magnificent things can do.” The wizard smiled at the crowd. He took the binoculars from a high shelf and handed them to Second Bob. “With these, your eyes are made stronger. The magic is a guarded secret, passed down to me from wizards past. You will see faraway objects as if they are right next to you.”

Second Bob turned them in his hands, and squinted.

Abel moved over to him and lifted them up to his eyes. “Like this.”

With a slack mouth, Second Bob looked around, started, and laughed. “That magic.”

“Please, pass them around; let the others see one of my many marvels.” The wizard turned to the cart and attached the hand generator to the television. “You may have seen glass windows.” He looked around at the windowless shacks and shrugged. “This window allows the Great Alfonso to gain a fleeting glimpse into a distant land.”

The wizard wound the handle on the generator until the machine let out a low hummed. He signalled for Abel to turn on the television. The screen lit up in shifting spots of greys, blacks, and whites.

The wizard grinned, gesturing to the screen. “Gentlemen, what we are seeing here is a land of snow. Look around you. This is no trickery.” He pushed out his bottom lip. “We are nearing the end of summer, yet the snow is as clear as day.”

As the crowd crept forward, the image faded to a tiny dot and then to black. “Alas, the magic only lasts so long.” He wiped his brow with a sleeve and took the fish tank down from its shelf. He stepped over to Second Bob. “My boy, please tell your friends what lives in this tank.”

Second Bob stared down into the tank, scratching his head. “That a pond critter.”

“Pond critter?”

“That a pond critter if ever I see one.” Second Bob gave an emphatic nod.

“My boy, please take one out for me, see for yourself that there are no shenanigans.”

Second Bob frowned. “She-what now? Nana in woman hut. She not allowed out.”

“Don't worry about it.” Abel patted him on the back.

The wizard placed the tank back on the shelf, pulled out a frog, and held it up by one leg. “Is there anyone here in doubt that this is not a real frog, that this is not, in the local parlance, a pond critter?”

Big Ned stepped forward, tilting his head at the squirming frog. “Look like good eats to me.” He chuckled and nodded. “It pond critter.”

The wizard flicked his wrist and smashed the frog against the cart’s side. He turned and held it up, green and limp. “As you could see, this frog—ahem, pond critter—is dead. If anyone among you would care to inspect?” He waved the frog by its legs and bowed his head when no one stepped forward.

“This is a most ancient and delicate magic.” His voice dropped to a low whisper. “I will ask all of you to move back a few steps.” He placed the frog carefully on the panel, took the wires from behind the television set, and connected them to its arms. Moving over to the generator, he turned the handle.

The frog's right leg twitched.

Gasps came from the crowd, and a small boy cried out.

“As you can see, the Great Alfonso has brought this poor creature back to life.”

A ripple of applause spread through the audience.

“That some magic, mister.” Second Bob offered the wizard a toothy grin.

Big Ned grabbed Second Bob by the hair and clenched his fists. “Get Mister Fluffy.”

Second Bob's eyes widened. “But—”

“Get!” Big Ned snapped, raising a threatening hand.

Abel slid his hand into his jacket, fingered the handle of his hunting knife, and reached slowly for his pistol. He readied himself as Second Bob scrambled to a nearby hut.

Big Ned raised his chin, his eyes remaining fixed on the wizard, air whistling through his nostrils.

The other men fell silent, their shoulders and jaws tightening.

Abel sidled up to the wizard. “I don't like this.”

The wizard gave a quick bow to the crowd and bolted up the cart.

“Where you going?” Big Ned stepped forward, puffing out his chest. “You got to see Mister Fluffy.”

Abel stiffened. “We need to go.”

The crowd burst into applause when Second Bob returned with a taxidermy creature under his left arm.

“What the hell is that?” Abel tilted his head, his hand dropping from his pistol.

Second Bob knelt before the wizard, dipped his head, and placed the creature at his feet.

Abel looked down and tugged at his beard. The thing had ten half-rotting rat heads sewn onto a fox’s torso, poking from the neck in a tight cluster. Three pairs of rabbit's hind legs hung limp from its sides and five squirrel tails jutted from the fox’s anus. A red ribbon was tied in a bow around its neck, and someone had made it a blue polythene poncho.

“This Mister Fluffy.” Big Ned’s voice spilled with pride and spittle.

Abel shared a confused glance with the wizard as Pip let out a whine. For a moment, he had expected a murderous cannibal cult, but this...he didn’t know what to make of this.

“A pleasure it is to meet you, Mister Fluffy.” The wizard removed his pointy hat.

“He won't hear.” Big Ned shook his head. “He dead.”

The wizard straightened up and brushed dust from his cape. “Of course.” He cleared his throat. “I knew that.”

“You made that pond critter live. You do that to Mister Fluffy.”

Shaking his head, the wizard moved over to Big Ned. “My good sir, the magic I used to bring life to the frog was very powerful and, well...” He scratched behind his ear, looking to Abel.

“The Great Alfonso used all his magic,” Abel said quickly. “He's very powerful, but there's only so much magic to go around.” He glanced at the wizard, who nodded. “I'm afraid he's very tired and won't be able to help Mister Fluffy.”

Big Ned looked at the wizard and then at Mister Fluffy. He gulped as if something was trapped in his throat. “That too bad. I want Mister Fluffy to watch out for us. Stop them Family taking the kids.”

The wizard lowered his gaze. “I'm so sorry.”

“Wait!” Second Bob tugged at the wizard’s sleeve. “Take Mister Fluffy with you. When you get magic back, you bring Mister Fluffy back to watch out for us.” He turned to Big Ned. “What you say, Pa?”

Big Ned's eyes brightened. “You do that?”

The wizard offered Big Ned a smile. “Of course. It would be an honour.”

4. Bullets

THE SUN BLAZED DOWN when Abel and the wizard returned to the highway. He blinked away the wisps of dust circling around him in lazy swirls.

“We could still probably get back to Trinity by nightfall.” The wizard pointed along the highway from his perch on the cart.

Abel shook his head, gesturing east. “I want to see if we can catch up with those kids.”

The wizard stiffened.

“You don't have to come. But I could do with the company.”

“What you so scared of being alone for?”

Abel squirmed at the suggestion, but he knew it was true. “Look around. You know how hard it is. I could go for days on the roads and not have anyone to talk to.”

The wizard slid down from his seat and stepped around the cart's side, unfastening the bolts. He took the binoculars from a shelf and looked along the highway to the east.

“Any sign?”

The wizard shook his head, handing Abel the binoculars. Through the lenses, Abel followed the highway’s downward curve towards the city. He scanned the horizon but saw no sign of the campervan. A pang of sorrow struck him. He wanted to help them, to get them as far away from the Family as possible. They were innocent, addicts or not. All they needed was a community, a purpose, someone to look out for them. The Family said you could never get off plez, but he did. He had help and he was clean. “They could be in a dip, I suppose.”

“Yeah. Could be.”

He looked again at the city—the remains of ancient buildings poking through black waters, and the twists of smoke rising from half-submerged buildings to the north. “Damn it. Let's keep moving.”

The wizard raised the reins and the mule lumbered forward. Pip lapped at a puddle on the right-hand side of the highway and sniffed around the roots of a spindly apple tree. They passed rusted cars.

Abel scanned the highway back west and made out the trail of the campervan's wheels, the kids' shambling footprints just visible through the dust. The tracks continued ahead, disappearing before him towards a low rise in the road. Pip took off again, bounding between the trees and hopping over the ruined foundations of buildings.

“What do you think was here before?” the wizard asked.

Abel slowed his pace, matching speed with the wizard. “Who could say? Could have been houses, I suppose.”

“What do you think happened?”

Abel shook his head, rubbing his beard. “My mother used to tell me stories about the time before.” He patted the roof of a car. “She said things like this used to race all over the place. You could travel a hundred miles in one day.”

The wizard let out a bitter laugh. “These heaps?”

“Look at this road. You've got to admit it makes sense.” Abel looked up and saw the wizard’s gaze fixed on something in the distance. “What is it?”

“It's the van.”

Abel jogged ahead, reached the brow of a hill, and followed the highway until he saw the campervan. He caught his breath. “What are we going to do?”

The wizard snorted. “I thought you had a plan?”

“We'll wait until night. They'll see us coming if we move up on them now.”

The wizard brought his cart to a halt on Abel's left. “We should stay here then.”

“We need to follow them. Keep enough distance so they don't see us as a threat. When they make camp, we'll do the same.”

The wizard hopped down from his cart and relieved himself behind a bush. “They're going to twig that something's going on,” he called over his shoulder. “They're moving real slow.”

Abel nodded. “We could search these old cars and buildings along the way. If they see we're scavenging, hopefully they won't see us as a threat.”

The wizard walked back over to his cart and heaved himself up onto the seat. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

––––––––

PIP CHARGED ALONG THE track ahead. The trees around them stood thin, their fallen leaves spread red and orange along the ground. They reached the buildings the wizard had spotted from the road as the trees made way for a dusty clearing.

To Abel’s left, a tumbledown house with a collapsed roof and missing front wall rested useless next to a sagging tractor. They ignored them and headed straight towards the barn, built from grey stone with a corrugated steel roof. Thin rectangles, cut into the stone like arrowslits, let in light. Its reinforced doors hung off their hinges at awkward angles.

Abel took out his hunting knife and pistol and listened for noises from inside. “What do you think?”

“Seems safe.”

Reaching the doors, Abel leaned inside. “Looks clear.”

Oak beams stretched along the barn's width, the concrete floor stained with oil patches, animal filth, scattered with hay and dust, puddles, and feeding troughs. A series of steel enclosures stood along the right-hand wall. Shafts of sunlight poked through the windows, casting a grey light over everything. Rickety wooden steps rose up to a loft at the far end. Stacked plastic barrels lined the left wall.

“We should check up there.” Abel gestured to the loft.

The wizard shook his head and waved his hands. “I’ve had enough falls for one day.”

Pip pushed past Abel, headed to the animal enclosures, and sniffed around a puddle.

Abel let out a sigh and made his way to the steps. He tested the handrails first, shaking them for a few seconds. He looked up and waited for the collapse, but nothing happened. He tried the first step, the sodden wood bending beneath his weight as he ascended.

Looking down, he saw the wizard struggling to open a barrel. He turned and scratched his beard. A dozen or so hay bales rested against the back wall. Next to them, stood a wooden tea chest. He walked over, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet. He looked inside and frowned, finding the box empty save for polystyrene packing foam. He checked around the hay bales, but found nothing.

He made his way down the stairs and joined the wizard next to the barrels. “Anything good?”

“They’re all empty. You?”

Abel glanced into the empty barrels, grimacing at the chemical stench. “Nothing, unless you’re after packing foam.” He looked around for Pip.

“Where was it?”

“What?”

“Packing foam.” His voice grew high with excitement. “Show me.”

Abel gave a shrug. “It’s in a wooden box. It’s useless.”

The wizard ran over to the steps and tottered up to the loft.

“Be careful.”

A few seconds later the wizard stood at the loft's edge, beaming as he waved the blocks of packing foam. He descended the steps with a triumphant grin. “Useless? You need to learn the value of things. My friend, this is not useless—this is the fuel for magic.”

––––––––

THE FAMILY’S CAMPERVAN was just visible in the distance when Abel helped the wizard dragged the cart back onto the highway. He looked to the west and saw the sun low above the horizon.

The wizard followed Abel’s gaze. “What is it?”

“Seeing how much light we’ve got left.”

“We should set up camp soon.”

Abel glanced towards the van and sighed. “Let’s see what they do. If they moved through the night, we’ll lose them for sure.”

The wizard climbed onto the cart, shuffled into his seat and grabbed the reins. With a flick of his wrist, the mule lurched forward.

“You going to tell me what’s so magical about packing foam?”

“All in good time.” The wizard tapped the side of his nose and adopted his showman’s voice. “All in good time.”

Abel shook his head and smirked. “I’m going to go on ahead, see if I can get a better idea about this van.”

“You should just go down with your gun, shoot them before they spot you.”

“I’ve got one bullet. I’m...” His voice trailed off. How could he tell the wizard he was saving it for himself?

The wizard brought his cart to a halt.

Abel stopped and glanced back at him. “What?”

“You.” He narrowed his eyes.

“What did I do?”

“I thought you had a weapon.”

Abel reached into his jacket and took out his pistol. “I’ve got a code.”

“Yeah? What sort of code?”

“Don’t kill.”

The wizard shook his head and let out an incredulous laugh. “That’s a lovely sentiment. How do you expect to survive with a code like that?”

Abel shrugged. “I’m still here.” He opened his pistol, took out the bullet, and blew on it before returning it and clicking the pistol shut.

“I don’t get it. You’ve got a gun. You should use it.”

“I do use it.” He offered the wizard a half-smile. “I’ve got out of more scraped using this as a threat than I would if I’d made enemies shooting people.”

“So what’s your plan with the Family? You going to go down there, hold out your pistol, and expect them to release their slaves?”

“I...erm...”

“They’ve got their own guns—real guns.”

“You ever found bullets when you’re scavenging?”

The wizard gave a confused looked. “What?”

“Have you ever come across bullets?”

“Once or twice, maybe.”

“Exactly. I found bullets once, but they didn’t fit my pistol. What are the odds those rifles they carry around are just for show?”

“That’s a pretty big what if. Stuff always gets out from the Protect—”

“Shh.” Abel raised a finger to his lips. He ran along the highway's right side and joined Pip. She stood stiff with her tail in the air and ears pricked. He stopped and listened, hearing the sound of feral hunting dogs. He turned back to the wizard. “Get your spike thing, I can hear dogs.”

He moved close to Pip, crouched next to her, and patted her on the side. She didn’t move. A low growl rumbled from deep within her throat. He took his hunting knife from his jacket and frowned at its blunted blade. Pip jerked her head to the right. They waited and watched.

Snarling, barking, and howling came from at least three dogs.

Abel glanced back over his shoulder to the see the wizard frantically unfastening the side of his cart. The mule looked at him, unperturbed.

The first dog emerged from bushes to the south, too far away to be an immediate threat. The second and third dogs appear farther along the highway.

A fourth dog raced onto the highway from the north.

“What’s happening?” The wizard joined Abel’s side.

“I can’t really tell. They’re going for the Family. They’re going for a pincer movement.” He pointed to the lone dog. “That one’s going first. Pretty clever.”

Five gunshots rang out. The dogs fell to the ground. One of them yelped. The others stayed silent.

“What happened?”

Abel looked up at him. “I think we’ve got our answer about bullets.”

5. The Addict

THE LAST GLIMMERS OF daylight shone over the city to the east as dust clouds eddied. Abel gathered sticks as he watched the Family making camp near the bank of a river. He could just make out the wizard’s cart through the trees.

A smooth round stone caught his eye. He pocketed it and then walked over to the cart with the dry sticks bundled against his side. He dropped the sticks so the cart would block the light from the fire. Taking a pair of damp logs, he arranged them in a V-shape on the soft ground. Without speaking, he tore bark away from the logs in long strips and set them aside. “You got any paper?” He turned to the wizard idly whistling to himself while sitting on his cart seat.

“What sort of paper?”

“For the fire.”

He gave an almost imperceptible nod, slipped down from the cart, and walked around the other side.

Abel built the fire, piling thick branches around a mess of tiny twigs and dried grasses. Even at the height of his plez addiction, he was always particular about how to build a campfire.

The wizard tapped his shoulder and waved a sheet of yellowed paper in front of him. “Will this do?”

“Yep.” He took the paper, tore it into strips, and stuffed it into the fire's base. Pip made a double circle next to him and flopped to the ground. He got up and arranged the bark as a roof to cover the flames.

“What you doing that for?”

“There’s a dust storm coming.” Abel didn’t look up. “I’m hoping this will keep it from bothering the fire.” He got to his feet and stood back to examine his work. “You got a match?”

The wizard took a match from a wooden box in his robe and lit it with a thumbnail, holding it against a strip of paper until it took the flame. He moved the match around, lighting the other strips of paper until it went out, and he tossed it among the arranged twigs. The damp logs hissed and crackled as the fire took hold.

“Where you get your matches?”

The wizard shrugged. “You ever came across the caravans?”

“Nope.”

“They get all the good stuff. A lot of it new.”

“New?”

“We should eat.” The wizard rubbed his hands together.

Abel walked over to his backpack, leaning against the side of the cart, and opened the top flap. He pulled out two unlabelled tins and a cloth, and returned to the fire, now growing in height and warmth. “I’ve got a bucket of half-charred critters if you’re interested?” He sat on the ground and crossed his legs.

The wizard laughed. “What the hell was that?”

“I know.” Abel smiled and shook his head. He took the hunting knife from his jacket and pierced the tins with the point. “What do you reckon?” He gestured to the tins with his blade.

The wizard shrugged. “Beans, I guess.”

Abel sniffed at the tins. “It looks promising.” He worked his knife around the lid. “It’s a tin of beans.” He copied the wizard’s showman’s voice. “Congratulations, your wizarding skills have clearly given you the ability to see through tins. Maybe you could use that in one of your shows?”

The wizard gave a toothy grin and wiggled the fingers over a tin, closing his eyes and tapping his forehead. “I, the Great Alfonso, can see through this metallic structure and, through the power of ancient sorcery, discern its contents.”

They both laugh.

“It could work.” Abel flipped the lid on the second tin and chuckled at the sight of more beans. “Magic.” He wrapped the cloth around his hands and arranged the tins over the fire.

When the beans simmered, Abel moved them from the fire, letting them cool on the ground. Pip sat on her haunches, slopping her tongue as she waited. A trail of thick white drool dangled past her jowls, swinging against the wind.

Abel took the spoon from his backpack. He tipped half of his tin onto the ground next to him and whistled. Pip ran over and gobbled the beans.

“Why you giving your food to a dog?”

Abel furrowed his brow. “We looked after each other.”

The wizard shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get?” He drove his spoon into the tin and rested the tin on the ground. “We’ve helped each other today. It’s not easy to find friends you can trust.”

The wizard nodded. “I’ve done alright going alone.”

“I can’t do alone.” He stared up as the dusky sky formed a lavender mist, picked up his tin and scraped the last few beans from the bottom and ate them.

The wizard stared at him for several seconds. “Is that why you’re saving your bullet?”

“Yep.” Abel rose to his feet. “I’ve been to some dark places. I don’t want to end up back there.” He took the water bottle out of his backpack and unscrewed the cap.

“You an addict?”

Abel shook his head, gave a slight shrug, and met the wizard’s gaze. “Nope. I was. I got off it.”

“What was it?”

“Plez.” He took a swig of water and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He poured water onto the spoon and wiped it with the cloth before dropping it into his backpack.

The wizard let out a sigh. “It’s always plez. How’d you get off it? I thought if you’re a plez-head the only way you get off is when you die.”

Abel sat to the wizard’s right and held his hands up against the fire, rubbing them together as he averted his gaze from the glow. Tiny sparks rose into the air as the smoke twisted and jerked with the wind. He reached to his side, picked up a stick, and poked at the base of the flames. Pip curled up next to him. He felt her warmth against his side and patted her. “I had people looking out for me.”

The wizard made a sound somewhere between a snort and a cough. “At the Grid?”

“What?” Abel gave him a puzzled look and leaned back, resting on his elbows. “No, Trinity.”

“And they got you clean?”

“I needed to do it.”

“Is that why you don’t want to be alone?”

Abel held his breath for a long moment. “Maybe. The pull’s always there, you know? I don’t know how to explain it.” He tugged on his beard, his toes cracking as he wiggled them in his boots.

“We’ll look out for each other.” The wizard placed a hand on his shoulder.

Abel squinted and offered a slight nod. “Yep...” His voice cracked. He didn’t want to open up like this, to make himself vulnerable. All he wanted was to leave that time of his life behind him and move forward.

“What's it like? It can’t all be bad, surely?”

Abel gave a shrug and stared down at his hands. “It's like you’re filled with this...bliss.” He took in a deep breath as the memory of the feeling came flooding back—the pull, the yearning, the dryness of the mouth. “All this stuff, all the badness, it doesn’t exist. You’re just in this bubble and...it’s perfect.”

“Sounds great.”

“It's not.” Abel swallowed. “That’s how it hooks you and consumes you. The first time you take it is the greatest feeling you'll ever know. The next time’s still good, but it's not quite there, you know? You keep trying to get that feeling back. But, you never get it back, and you know you’ll never get it back. It doesn’t stop you, though. You can’t help yourself. It became everything. I stopped taking care of myself. I robbed people on the roads.” He shook his head and bit down his lower lip, glaring at the wizard. “Trust me, it's not worth it.”

The wizard raised his hands. “Just asking, no need to look at me like that.”

“Sorry. It’s just bad memories, you know?”

“You ever tempted to do it again?”

Abel shook his head and closed his eyes. “Every single day.”

––––––––

PIP SNORED AS ABEL dropped more sticks onto the fire. He watched the smoke rise into the blackness. The moon glowed murky brown through the dust clouds. No stars shone. Around him, the trees rattled against the wind in rhythmic undulations. The wizard slept in his cart, and the mule just stood there, chewing.

Abel watched Pip for several minutes as her chest rose with each breath, the lines of her ribs protruding through her fur. He looked along the slope towards the highway and nodded to himself. Even with the others around him, he wasn’t going to be left alone with his thoughts. Plez called to him.

He took the hunting knife and a round stone from his jacket. With crossed legs, he sharpened the blade with the stone, angling it against the firelight, inspecting his work as he went. He ran his finger along its edge, sharp and smooth.

Getting to his feet, he brushed down his trousers with his hands then pulled up his jacket collar. With careful, deliberate steps, he walked north along the trail towards the highway. An apple popped against his weight, spraying his legs with foul juice.

He reached the highway but didn’t step on the asphalt. A shiver ran along his body, part from the cold, part from adrenaline. A fine line of smoke caught the moonlight along the highway to the east. What was he doing?

On bended knees, Abel made his way along the asphalt's rim, only stopping when the campervan emerged, brown and silent against the night. He got into a prone position and crawled along on his elbows.

The van rested crooked on the highway's edge, two wheels on the asphalt and the others sinking into the dirt. His gaze shifted to a dying campfire, several feet from the opposite side of the road. Two adults lay next to the fire, sharing a blanket.

A branch snapped and then another. Abel held his breath and waited. Had he been seen? Was someone watching?

He held his breath as a man staggered from the trees to the right and joined the others next to the fire. He dropped a few sticks on the embers, and one of the others stirred for a few seconds. The man poked at the fire with a stick and fanned it with his hands until the flames took.

Abel glanced over his shoulder and then moved forward, keeping his head low and his breathing shallow. He watched for several minutes, but nothing happened.

The man got to his feet, paced around, and took his place back by the fire. The wind blew hard as swirls of dust scooped up empty cans, dried leaves, and sheets of cardboard, cartwheeling them along the asphalt. The man banged his fist against the van's side and shouted something.

Abel moved backwards. He called out in pain when his elbow twisted against a loose stone. “Damn it.” He cursed himself as his words echoed around him.

The man looked up, staring over to where Abel waited. He approached, holding his rifle to his front. Something metallic clattered along the highway—another piece of junk caught by the wind. The man scratched his head, turned, and walked back to the campfire.

Abel crawled backwards, edging along the lip of the highway, his eyes fixed on the man until the van disappeared out of view. He let out a shaking sigh and got to his feet. How could he have been so stupid? If he’d been seen, he’d probably be dead. He held his jacket around him, gripping it tight against the wind, forcing the battered leather to cling to his body. Dust got in his eyes, mouth, and nose, and rubbed like sandpaper against exposed skin. He coughed and blinked. Tears stream from his eyes.

He dipped his head and pulled his cap low, keeping only one eye half-open to navigate. He knew a dust storm was coming, but thoughts of plez had clouded his judgement. He needed to focus, to ignore the way it seemed to tug at the edges of his mind.

Pip met him when he reached the trail. She circled him, licked his hand, and then ran back to the wizard’s cart. Abel followed with cautious steps. He held his arms around his face, shielding him from the dust.

The wizard’s cart rocked and creaked against the wind. The mule rested on the ground, braying with a low moan. Dust motes snapped and sparked against the flames, the fire flattened by the storm. Abel dragged a blanket from his backpack and sat a few feet from the weakened flames.

Pip sat alert next to him, her ears twitching and tail drifting in the air. She wiggled her hips and pushed her back towards Abel, getting as close as she could to him. He wrapped the blanket around them both, put his arms around her chest, and leaned against her back, hugging her and calming her into the night.

––––––––

BLEARY-EYED AFTER A night of shattered sleep, Abel stared ahead as the wizard prepared the fire and breakfast, and yawned. A layer of brownish-grey dust coated the ground with a velvety film. He shook dust from his jacket and blanket. “I took a look at that campervan last night.”

The wizard stopped and turned to face him. “Are you completely mad? You could have got me killed.”

Abel stretched and yawned again. He walked over to his backpack, rolled up the blanket and stuffed it inside. “I wasn’t seen. Got caught in the storm, though.”

“Yeah?” The wizard turned back to the fire and added a few more sticks. “I must have slept through it.”

“Lucky.” Abel took a seat on the ground near the fire. Fresh scabs lined his fingers, and he couldn’t help licking his raw lips, flinching each time his tongue caught an open sore. “I think we can work out a way to free those kids.”

“Yeah?” The wizard crouched next to him and checked a couple of tins on the fire.

“They have one guy who I think was there to keep watch while the others sleep. He seemed pretty bored.” He looked over at Pip as she sniffed around the rotting apples at the base of a tree.

“Right.”

“I was thinking, if we could create some kind of distraction, I bet we could get the kids out before they even realise what’s happening.”

“And you think it’ll be that easy?”

Abel gave a half-shrug, his lips curling into a grim smile. “I didn’t say it’d be easy, but I think it can be done.”

“You won’t change things, and they won’t even know if you don’t do anything.”

“You think this is about me?” Abel stood, tugging at his beard.

“This is real. We could get killed. You’ve got nothing to prove.”

Glaring, Abel clenched his fists and let out a long breath through his nose.

“You’ve got your past and I’ve got mine. Makes sense you want to help them, but it’s insanity.”

“And what’s your past?”

The wizard shrugged and gestured to the tins of steaming beans. “Forget it. Let’s eat.”

6. The Ball

ABEL SAW THE CAMPERVAN first, a quarter-of-a-mile or so ahead. Four kids dragged the van along, and two guards flanked them with rifles. The sunrise glared bright yellow as it punctured the clear sky, its light curling like butterfly tongues across the black waters surrounding the city. Pip matched his pace. He reached down and stroked her behind her ears.

Debris and dust lay spread along the highway's surface. Abel kicked away another broken branch and another severed vine. Pip stopped and sniffed at the edge and started to dig. Soil flew behind her, chunks of it hitting Abel’s leg as he passed. He looked down the embankment to the right and spotted something beyond the dead pines.

The cart rumbled behind him, slow and plodding. He turned, gesturing to the wizard. “There’s something down there.”

“Right.” The wizard glanced back over his shoulder. “It’s a bit exposed here to hide the cart.”

“We could go back a bit.”

“You go check to see if it’s worth it.”

“I can do that.”

Pip pushed against Abel’s hand with her wet nose.

“What is it, girl?”

She looked up at him and dropped a red rubber ball from her mouth.

“Where did you find this?” Abel picked up the ball, wrinkling his nose at the coating of dirt and dog slobber. He tossed the ball along the asphalt, watching as it bounced unpredictably.

Pip caught it and dropped the ball at his feet.

He threw it again, this time farther.

She chased it, caught it, and brought it back.

“You’re a good girl.” Smiling, he patted her side and scanned a route down the embankment. As many times as he had travelled the highway, there was something new to discover. Perhaps the changing seasons had something to do with it, the way the trees thinned out in the winter, or how dust storms hid things in a layer of greyish-brown. Or, sometimes, when he found himself lost in thought, he wondered how long he hadn’t been paying full attention.

He shimmied down the embankment to a clearing. Dead pines loomed above, their branches brittle and bony, their bark a deathly grey. Pip watched him from above.

An old pickup truck lay half-sunk into the ground. Next to that stood the rusted husk of a car, barely recognisable as a vehicle. On the far side of the clearing, a van with dented sides rested beneath the trees. A patch of brown rust stretched along its side, and a curved crack crept across its windscreen.

A circle of stones, a charred log coated in dust, and a few empty tins stood silent in the centre of the clearing. Abel looked around and crouched to inspect the fire. Half-a-dozen green shoots rose from the ground within the circle of stones, one of them twisting around the charred log. He nodded to himself and strode over to the van. Reaching the passenger door, he tried the handle and found the door locked. He walked to the driver’s side, pulled the handle, shook it, and then stumbled back when it creaked open on rusted hinges.

The cabin smelled rotten and musty. Taking hold of the steering wheel, he pulled himself up onto the bench seat and looked around, his backpack forcing him to lean forward.

He fingered a folded newspaper resting on the dashboard, bleached by the sun and brittle to the touch. He picked it up and squinted at the faded print, nothing more than watery grey impressions crumbling to dust. He dropped the newspaper outside and reached over to open the glovebox. Inside, he found a book and examined the cover, bent into waves by damp. “Road atlas.”

Using only the tips of his thumb and forefinger, he lifted the pages with care, following the coloured lines and mouthing the words under his breath. He slipped the book into his backpack.

Dropping outside, he walked around to the rear of the van and considered the pair of doors. The dead branches rattled around him. A dusty pinecone exploded under his feet. He tried the handle to no avail. “Damn it.” He looked up at the doors, picked up the newspaper, and walked back to the highway.

When he reached the road, he found the wizard scraping dust from the side of the cart with his sleeve. He looked over his shoulder towards Abel. “Anything?”

“I need you to work your magic on some locked doors. There’s a van down there, but I can’t get in.”

“What you got?” The wizard gestured to the newspaper.

“I was hoping I could make out some of the words. If not, we’ve got some kindling.”

The wizard cocked his head. “You think there’s something in there?”

Abel gave a slight nod and a half-smile. “Only one way to find out.”

The wizard took the reins and led the mule in a half-circle to face the cart back west. “Let’s found a place to hide this,” he said, patting the cart.

Abel looked around for Pip and whistled. She came to him, chewing on the rubber ball, rotating it in her mouth as drool cascaded from between her back teeth and hung elastic. She stopped and shook, her ears flapping wildly. A thick glob of white drool strung across her face. Abel laughed.

“Come here, girl.” Reaching behind him, he pulled a cloth from the side-pocket of his backpack and wiped her face.

“That’s disgusting.”

“She’s just having fun.” Abel turned his attention back to Pip, crouched to one knee, and rubbed her behind the ears. “You’re just having fun, aren’t you, girl?”

She let out sharp exhalations with her nose, her tail wagging. She dropped the ball at Abel’s feet and hopped back a few steps, her tongue flapping out of the side of her mouth. He picked up the slimy ball with the cloth and wiped it clean. He got to his feet and hurled the ball west along the highway. A smile crept across his face as Pip sprinted to fetch it.

He walked alongside the wizard until they reached a cluster of apple trees.

“This will do.” The wizard guided the mule from the road, the cart’s wheels making a dull thud when they dropped down onto the soil. He opened a rear door and crawled inside before emerging a few seconds later with the steel rod.

Abel led the way to the van and gave a helpless shrug when confronted with the locked rear doors. The wizard thrusted the rod's spiked end into the gap between the doors, a few inches above the handle. They manipulated the rod back and forth, pushing with all their weight and strength until something snapped and the doors swung open.

When the dust cleared, they found the van empty. Abel jumped inside and looked around, his back hunched against the low ceiling. He hopped down and scratched his beard. “Oh well. Worth a tried.”

The wizard frowned and gestured towards the campfire. “We should get out of here.”

Abel followed his gaze and patted the wizard on the shoulder. “See those green shoots?”

“So?”

“So, it means that’s an old campfire. If that fire was recent, there wouldn’t be any shoots.”

The wizard nodded, his body relaxing. “You get anything from that?” He pointed at the pickup truck.

“Nope. Let’s take a looked.”

They walked across the clearing and approached the truck. Abel opened the passenger door, pulling against the stiffness. Curled flecks of red paint crumbled to the ground, revealing the smears of rust and rot beneath. He scrunched his nose at the stench of decaying upholstery and sun-blistered vinyl.

He banged his head on the roof with a start at the sound of the wizard’s whoop. “Damn it,” he said, removing his cap and rubbing his crown.

The wizard grinned, waving a plastic petrol can, a faded pinkish-red with a black screw-top. “You won’t believe this.”

“What is it?”

“There’s still some diesel in here.”

Abel tilted his head to one side. “So?”

The wizard’s eyes grew bright. “We can make magic.”

7. Moby Dick

ABEL SHUDDERED AGAINST the cold as purple clouds unwound around the setting sun. He placed a saucepan on the bare ground between the cart and the fire.

The wizard broke the packing foam into tiny pieces, letting them fall into the saucepan.

Abel looked up, squinting. “Are you sure this will work?”

The wizard nodded and handed him a sturdy length of pine, three-feet-long, with a rich yellow lustre.

“Don’t get it on your skin. And you might want to keep your dog from sniffing around.”

Abel looked over to Pip and frowned. Pip rested on her belly a few feet away from the fire, nibbling at clumps of fur above her front paws. “I think she’ll be alright.”

The wizard unscrewed the can’s cap, filling the air with its volatile odour, and poured a few drops into the pan. “It’s not going to hurt you. Stir it. The packing foam will soak up the fuel.”

Abel took a few small steps forward, covering his nose with his left forearm as he dipped the length of pine into the gooey mixture and stirred. He glanced at the wizard for reassurance. He had no idea what the wizard was planning. “This okay?”

“Yeah. Just keep stirring.” The wizard poured more fuel into the mixture and added a few more chunks of packing foam.

Abel coughed and turned his face away while continuing to stir. “What is this stuff? It smells disgusting.”

A dark smile curled across the wizard’s lips, his eyes twinkling. “Ever heard of napalm?”

Abel inclined his head slightly. “Nope.”

––––––––

ABEL LEANED AGAINST the wizard’s cart, reading under his breath as he balanced his copy of Moby Dick on his legs, his right forefinger following the words. He stroked Pip absently, rubbing the back of her neck as she rested her head in his lap.

“What you reading for?”

Abel looked up with a start. “It’s from before. It’s called Moby Dick.”

“That’s not what I asked. Why you reading?”

A frown passed over Abel’s face. He folded the top corner of the right-hand page, closed the book, and made a show of considering the question. Sal had taught him to read when he was getting clean. It helped him to focus his mind and keep his thoughts away from plez. After several seconds, he gave a shrug. “To learn stuff, I guess. Wisdom.”

“Yeah? What you learn?”

“I don’t know. Lots of stuff, I suppose.”

“What’s that one?”

Abel looked down at the paperback, its pages browned and cover faded. He examined the picture of the whale, its whiteness greyed and mottled.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

Pip jumped to her feet and shook. She bowed, stretched, and yawned, her mouth gaping open and tongue curling.

“What’s so important about that book?”

Abel shook his head and let out a deep sigh. “It’s a story, is all.”

The wizard smirked. “You think we need stories? How are stories going to help us out here?” He made a sweeping gesture with outstretched arms.

“That’s exactly why we need stories.” Abel watched Pip wander into a gap between two bushes. “When I read, I’m in another world, another place. You can learn lessons from before. It makes you think about things. You see things in different ways.”

“I don’t get it.”

Abel shook his head. How could he explain something he saw as so obvious? He went to speak then stopped himself.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.” A prickle of heat rose along his neck.

“You look like you want to say something.”

Abel stared down at the book and sighed. “I don’t know what happened to the world before all this. I just think that if we looked to the past, we might be able to find something to help with our future.”

The wizard sniffed. “You think you’re going to get that with some story?”

“Yes.” He met the wizard’s gaze. “What if this is how people from before used to spread good ideas?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. How to act, I guess. Some of the books I’ve found tell you how to do things, practical things.”

The wizard nodded. “I still think it’s pointless.”

A deep crease set along Abel’s brow. “I think you’re wrong.”

“What if you get all this knowledge, all this wisdom, the best the world from before has to offer...then what? How’s it going to help anything? It’s not.” He folded his arms.

“We could spread the—”

“There’s no one left who cares. You think Big Ned cares about that? We don’t have that luxury. We’re lucky if we can survive.”

“I don’t want to just survive. I want to live.”

––––––––

THE MOON SHONE BRIGHT and brilliant in the clear sky. Abel crouched next to the wizard, using a thorn bush for cover as he watched the campervan through the binoculars. “Two of them are sleeping by a campfire. The woman’s just wandering around.” He handed the binoculars to the wizard.

“I can take out those two if you kill the woman.”

Abel frowned and clenched his jaw. “I’m not killing anyone.”

The wizard dropped his binoculars and turned to him with a sneer. “You need to get real, man.”

“No.” Abel folded his arms. He’d promised himself he would never kill and he wasn’t going to start now.

The wizard shook his head and lifted the binoculars back up to his eyes. “So what’s the plan?”

“We wait until she steps away from the others. I’m sure she’ll need to go to the toilet at some point. There’s two of them—they’re asleep and we could catch them unaware. I’ve got my pistol, and I’ll let you work your magic.”

The pair huddled next to each other in the dark, watching the woman for more than an hour before she left her post and strode across the asphalt towards the trees.

“This is it.” Abel rose to his feet on stiff knees.

“Give it a minute.” The wizard tugged at Abel’s sleeve.

With his breath held, Abel focused on the van, its roof glowing silver against the moon, its nearside rippling with reflected orange from the flames. Taking the binoculars, he swept the area. The men lay curled next to their campfire, their jackets rolled up to form makeshift pillows. There was no sign of the woman.

“Let’s go.” Abel took out his pistol and picked up the wizard’s steel rod.

They crossed the highway and crept along the edge of the asphalt, ducking as they ran. Abel looked behind him to see the wizard holding the saucepan. “Do you need me to slow down?”

“You go straight for the van. I’ll deal with the men.”

Abel jogged past the campfire and opened the campervan door. He turned his face away from the stench of urine, vomit, faeces, infection, and the faint tang of plez. He froze for a moment as the pull held him.

One of the kids woke up in a daze, her eye sockets rimmed with purple—a plez addict.

“Come on.” He tucked his pistol under his left arm and held out a hand.

He caught a bright flash in the corner of his eyes and turned to see a lump of burning napalm landing on one of the men’s faces. For a split second, all the sound from the world seemed to disappear. Then the man let out an agonised scream.

“What are you doing?” Abel’s eyes widened.

“You got your code. I got mine. Get the kids and get out of here.”

Abel stuck his head inside the van and shook the girl’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

The girl fell back into a stupor and the other kids remained still, their collars chained to a central pole. Abel picked up a length of steel pipe, no longer than his forefinger, and frowned at the scorched end. A half-eaten chunk of charred meat lay abandoned in one of the kid’s laps. “Get up.” But they didn’t move.

He tugged his beard, his heart racing. “Come on.” His words fell useless.

Stepping backwards, he saw the wizard standing over the two men, a wicked grin plastered across his face as the end of the napalm stick burned incandescent against the night. One of the men lay curled in a tight ball, his hands clawing at his burnt face while the other man stared up at the wizard, cursing.

Abel turned with a start as the woman emerged from the woods, aiming her rifle at them. His eyes darted to the wizard, to the woman, to the van, to the men, and back to the woman. He raised his pistol and aimed it at the woman. “Drop your rifle.”

The woman let out a cold laugh.

“Drop your rifle. If you make one more move, the wizard will destroy you with a fireball, like he did to your friend here.”

“What’ve you done to him?”

The wizard cleared his throat. “You can tell the Family that the Great Alfonso, the Wizard of the Wasteland, cast his spell of magical fire.”

Abel looked past the wizard as one of the men crawled to his rifle. “No!”

The wizard turned, his eyes widening at the sight of the rifle pointed at the side of his head and let out a wild laugh. “A stalemate! You have two choices. You can let us walk away or we could fight. My magic is very powerful, and I wouldn’t like your chances.”

“Or you could surrender and release the kids,” said Abel.

The woman laughed. “You know what the Family’ll do to us if we let them go?” Her eyes narrow as she exchanged glances with the man. She shook her head and lowered her rifle. “Go. Come near us again and we’ll kill you.”

“Put your weapons on the ground.” Abel marched over to the van.

“What are you doing?” The wizard grabbed his shoulder. “We need to go.”

“What about the kids?”

“We need to go.” The wizard backed away along the highway, his body trembling.

Abel looked back at the van and shook his head. He didn’t want to leave it like this, but he knew the wizard was right. “Damn it.”

––––––––

“YOU NEARLY KILLED THAT guy.” Abel leaned back against the wizard’s cart as he stared into the darkness. He made out the shape of the wizard fumbling in his robes.

“I wish I had.” The wizard took out a matchbox and gave it a shake.

“You can’t mean that.”

“We should have killed them when we had the chance.” The wizard struck a match and held it against strips of newspaper stuffed into the pile of sticks. “They’re going to be looking for us now, hunting us.” He met Abel’s gaze with a scowl. “It was a stupid idea.”

Abel glared at him.

“What?”

“I just know we could have saved them. We were so close.”

The wizard gave a sharp sniff and crouched before the gathering flames, rubbing his hands, his back to Abel. “They were beyond saving. You saw them.”

“No one’s beyond saving.” He stared down at his grimy palms. “They were just messed-up on plez.”

“They were too screwed-up. I could have died.”

Abel picked at the skin along his left thumb, scraping down its side with the nail of his forefinger until he felt the sting of torn flesh. Just because those kids were addicts didn’t mean there wasn’t hope. He’d got clean. Those kids could do the same. They just needed someone to look out for them, someone to guide them away from the chaos. He sighed, got up, and sat next to the wizard by the fire. “I worry about you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you?”

The wizard flashed him a glare, orange flames dancing in his eyes. “I do what I need to survive.”

“Do you not care about those kids?”

“Of course, I care.” His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “But what could we do? We tried. At least we did that.”

Abel took a stick and tossed it onto the fire. He listened to the crackling and hissing twigs. “We could try again. If we give up now, those kids will have no life.”

“And we’ll have no life if the Family come after us, or if things go bad again.”

“We should at least try. We didn’t really have a plan going in.”

“That’s for sure.” The wizard shook his head. “It’s over. They’re going to be expecting us. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re out looking for us now.”

Abel flipped up his jacket collar and leaned towards the warmth. Pip lay on the ground next to him. She turned and flopped her head onto his thigh, her big eyes looking up at him. He stroked behind her ears. “I’m not so sure.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t think the Family will come after us. They seemed too concerned about what would happen to them if they didn’t have those kids.”

“Maybe.” The wizard poked the fire with a stick. “Trouble is, they’ll be looking out for us now.”

“Then we come up with another plan.” He closed his eyes. “That’s no life for a kid.”

8. The Machine

RUINED BUILDINGS LOOMED around them, their walls twisting and cracking against the fractured earth. Dust-coated telegraph cables lay limp along the rough ground. Vines and weeds force their way through potholes and torn asphalt, their red and purple flowers pungent with a sickly-sweet odour.

Pip bolted past, chasing a rat into the shadows of a damaged building, its remaining wall bent and contorted, like a man hunched over in pain. She emerged a few moments later, a rat twitching in her grasp.

“I don’t like the looks of this place.” The wizard scanned the buildings from the cart’s seat.

Abel took his hunting knife from his jacket and checked the grip of his pistol. He looked up to his left, his footsteps echoing between the shells of buildings. “It’s quiet. I can’t see any smoke around.”

“Don’t be so quick to assume we’re alone.”

Abel crossed in front of the mule and across what would have once been an intersection. He approached a three-storey building with brown brick walls, rendered smooth through years of storms and neglect. He kicked aside a tangle of thorn bushes and rested his hands on a sodden window frame. He leaned inside and looked around. Shattered glass lay strewn across the mouldy carpet. A faded painting hung crooked on the far wall. Through a doorway, he made out the frame of a collapsed staircase. The stench of damp and rats hung thick in the air. Shielding his nose with a forearm, he looked over to the wizard climbing down from his cart.

“Anything good?”

Abel offered him a grim smile and shrugged. “Nope.” The chill wind whistled along the rooftops as bits of debris rolled along the asphalt and shutters rattled against buildings. He pulled up his collar and hunched against the cold. “Anything take your fancy?”

The wizard walked over to him. The mule just stood there, tethered to a drooping lamppost. “People would have picked this place clean decades ago.”

“Maybe. People look for different things, though. I still go into buildings and find stuff I can trade.” He looked in the window of a dented estate car, its suspension shot and its roof warped and housing a pool of stagnant water. The passenger door screeched open with a stiff jerk. He checked under the seat, flipped open the glovebox and checked the pocket in the door beside him. “Nothing.” He turned to see the wizard crouching next to the fuel tank. “Any good?”

The wizard didn’t answer but instead strained as he wrestled with the fuel cap. After a few moments, he released his grip and let out a deep sigh.

Abel stood over him, looking down at the fuel tank. “Do you think there’s anything in there?”

The wizard shrugged, got to his feet, and wiped his brow with a sleeve. “Let’s keep looking.”

Knotted tree roots zigzagged along the broken asphalt and snapped beneath Abel’s boots as he walked over to a squat grey building. The road extended to the right. To his left, the twisted steel framework of a building stood hollow.

The squat building’s brickwork was weathered and stained with streaks of blacks, browns and greens, its central double-door flanked by two windows, as wide as the door was tall. Rolling security shutters obscured the glass. Abel tried them, dust falling like snow from the horizontal slits.

He stood back, his eyes wandering over the front of the building. He walked around the left side and frowned at the featureless wall. Returning to the building’s front, he found the wizard on one knee, his gaze fixed on the left window shutter. “What is it?”

“This padlock.” The wizard didn’t look up. “I reckon we could break this.”

“How?”

Without answering, the wizard made his way over to his cart and returned brandishing his steel rod. He drove the spike into the lock's arch.

Abel took the end of the rod and rocked back and forth until the padlock finally snapped. He pushed his shoulder into the shutter, trembling as he strained against the stiffness. With a scraping, screeching noise, the shutters eventually gave, rolling into themselves and revealing a grimy window.

“Damn it.” Abel wiped dust from the glass with his sleeve. “Looked.” He traced the shape of wire mesh within the glazing. “No way we’re breaking through that.”

The wizard shoved him aside and leaned in close to examine the window. “Sure we can.”

Abel shook his head and sighed. “I’ve come across these windows before. You can’t break them.”

With a grin, the wizard looked up at Abel and prodded the window frame with a grubby finger. “We don’t need to break the glass. We just need to take out this frame.”

Abel poked the window frame, feeling the softness of rot beneath the flaking blue gloss. “Good thinking.”

With a grunt, the wizard drove the spike into the bottom-left corner of the window frame, pushing it deep with a rocking motion.

Abel yanked at a piece of frame, pulling it free and dropping it to the ground. He stepped to one side, allowing the wizard to separate the frame. The glass shifted, sliding a few inches down and creating a gap along the top of the frame.

More wood cracked.

The window slid towards them, cutting a slice through the air and dropping to the ground with a crunch as the glass shattered, its form still intact.

“We’re in.” The wizard brushed the bottom of the frame with the rod.

Abel took out his torch and wound the handle until the bulb glowed a dull yellow. Taking the torch between his teeth, he climbed into the building, his eyes adjusting to the gloom as the wizard clambered in behind him.

He coughed at the cloud of dust. “What was this place?”

The wizard’s eyes widened. “They’re machines.”

Abel shone his torch over the nearest machine. “This one looks pretty dangerous.” He highlighted a two-feet-wide corkscrew of blades.

“Some of these have got fuel tanks.”

“What do you think they were?” Abel gripped the handles of one of the machines, pulling it backwards and forwards, its roller rumbling along the grass-green floor.

The wizard got to his feet and stroked his chin. “Obviously, we’ve stumbled upon an armoury.”

Abel frowned. “Why would they have fake grass in an armoury?”

The wizard shrugged and pulled aside a polythene sheet from one of the smaller machines. “You can sit on this one. Look, there’s a seat and the wheels are still intact.”

Abel regarded the machine, rubbing at his beard. “It's a bit small.”

“You can read. What's this say?”

Abel stepped over to the machine and squinted at a laminated tag hanging from a handle. “Children's quad bike.”

“You sure?” The wizard cocked an eyebrow. “This isn't a bike.”

“There’s no rust.” Abel went onto one knee next to the quad bike. “Think we can get it working?”

The wizard folded his arms and pushed out his bottom lip. “Anything’s possible.” His expression dropped. “No way are we getting it out of that window, though.”

Abel got up and went over to the double doors. He unfastened the latch and swung the doors inwards, revealing the exterior shutters. “Whoever brought it in here must have got it through this door.”

“Right.”

Abel walked over to a workbench along the right-hand wall and picked up a pair of plastic safety goggles. Scuffs clouded the left lens, the right arm brittle and stiff. He folded them, taking care not to snap the plastic, and dropped them into a side-pocket of his backpack.

“What you found?”

“Eye goggles. I think they’ll come in useful for dust storms.”

“What’s in those bottles?” The wizard gestured farther along the bench.

Abel squinted and examined the row of plastic containers. “Two-stroke oil, apparently.”

“Oil?”

Abel nodded and took a bottle in his hand, feeling its weight and listening as its contents sloshed around inside. “Yep. And they’re still sealed.”

A thunderous snarl erupted from the quad bike's engine.

Abel spun around and pulled his knife.

The wizard grinned. “It works!” He brought the engine to a stop. “It works!”

––––––––

ABEL FORCED UP THE main shutters as the wizard pushed the quad bike outside. They both circled the machine, examining its firm rubbery seat, handlebars, and gleaming engine. The wizard slapped Abel’s hand away from its flawless red paint, the deep gloss sending ripples of light across its curved surfaces.

“This is great.” The wizard shook his head.

“I can’t believe it’s still working.” Abel rocked on the balls of his feet, hands clasped behind his back. “It’s been years since I’ve seen a vehicle with a working engine. I’ve seen people riding past on pedal bikes occasionally, but nothing like this.”

“Depends where you go. We’ll keep it turned off until we need it. Never know what kind of people the noise will attract.”

Abel nodded and joined the wizard to push.

Within a few steps, the wizard walked along the quad bike's right, one hand guiding the steering wheel. “Keep coming. Try to avoid these roots.”

Abel flinched at a popping sound to his right and a tiny explosion of shattered brick burst from the wall. “What the hell?”

“Get down.” He yanked Abel by the sleeve, dragging him back towards the building.

Air rushed from his lungs as the wizard slammed him back against the wall. “What the hell?”

“Shut up.” He gasped as a second bullet whizzed by, ricocheting off the wall and lodging into the asphalt.

“Where are they coming from?”

“I can’t tell.”

“Damn it. We’re going to get picked off if we move out.”

“I need to get back inside.” He held his back flush against the wall.

“What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know yet. I figured you could create a diversion.”

“Then what?”

“I said I don’t know, didn’t I?” The wizard glared at him.

Abel raised his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture. “Just asking, was all.” He rubbed his neck as nervous sweat seeped from his back and armpits. His gaze lingered on the bullet lodged in the ground a few feet to his right. Swallowing, he turned to the wizard. “I’ll distract them enough to let out a shot. As soon as you hear it, you need to get yourself inside.”

“Okay.” The wizard took in a deep breath.

“What if the shooter comes after us?”

The wizard shrugged and shook his head. “You got your pistol, right?”

He placed a hand on the wizard’s shoulder, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Good luck.”

The wizard gave a quick nod and patted him on the back with a firm hand. “You ready?”

“Yep.”

The wizard edged along the wall as the knuckles of his clenched fists turn an almost iridescent white.

Abel moved to the other corner and removed his tattered baseball cap, gripping the peak with a trembling hand. He took a deep breath and held it for several seconds, his chest tightening. The cap quivered in his hand, its faded red material rippling like a dull flame.

For a brief moment, he glanced back at the wizard, raised his arm, and flapped the cap around the corner of the building, bracing himself for the gunshot.

After several seconds, he turned to the wizard and shrugged. “Now what?”

Without speaking, the wizard returned the shrug and signalled for him to try again.

He reached past the corner, waving the cap again with one eye on the wizard. He shook his head and lunged forward onto the asphalt, throwing his body in fits and starts as he charged across the street to an opposite building.

Looking around, he frowned at the stillness, the silence, his heart racing as he caught his breath. Who had tried to shoot them? Was it the Family? Maybe the wizard had been right. Maybe they were after them.

Going down on one knee, he scanned the ragged brickwork, collapsed roofs, and shattered windows of the ruined buildings stretching along the road, their walls warped and stained with mould and dried streaks of filth. He looked for movement but saw nothing. It didn’t make sense.

Frustrated and trembling as the adrenaline subsided, he watched the wizard move out of sight. His mouth grew dry. Dark clouds tumbled in the sky above, moving in an opposite direction to the building wind. He glanced down at his cap, still clasped in his hands, and waved it franticly.

No gunshots came.

He took a deep breath and ran back across the street, heading towards the wizard. The first drops of rain dripped onto the top of his head. He brushed the rain from his scalp and wiped his hands on his trousers when he reached the open double-doors.

The wizard dropped a length of metal with a start and jerked his hand to his chest. “Geez, man, you scared me.”

“We’ve got rain.”

The wizard’s lips curled. “Rain? What about whoever's shooting at us?”

“It's brown rain.”

The wizard cleared his throat. “That's our cover.”

“We can’t go out in that. You ever get one of the rashes?”

“Rather rashes than dead.”

Abel looked over his shoulder as the rain collected in potholes and oozed down walls like brown tears. He took his backpack from his shoulders, put it on the ground and pulled out the tattered material from an old umbrella, long separated from its frame, and took out a kerchief and safety goggles.

“What you doing?”

“Protecting myself.” Abel unfolded the material and draped it over his head. He replaced his baseball cap, adjusting the material beneath so it covered his neck. “Anything we can use in here?”

The wizard shook his head. “These machines are duds.”

“Right.” Taking the kerchief in both hands, he raised it to his face, covered his nose and mouth, and tied it in a knot at the base of his neck with fumbling fingers. He got to his feet and swung the backpack onto his shoulders. “You ready?”

“You sure?”

“If whoever was shooting at us has got any sense, they'll be out of this rain.”

The wizard offered him a grim smile. “Let's hope so.”

Abel pushed the goggles onto his nose, hooking the arms over his ears. Scratches clouded both lenses. A cataract smear obscured his vision through his left eye.

The wizard pushed past several machines, stepping over them with bended legs until he reached the sheet of polythene. He pulled the plastic over his head, wearing it as a hooded robe. “Let's go.” A tremble shook his voice.

Abel stepped outside. The rain bounced off his leather jacket in a relentless torrent. Dipping his head, he staggered forward, the kerchief already beginning to soak through. The wizard groaned behind him and passed to take the quad bike's frontend. Abel dipped his head lower and pushed the vehicle forward.

After a few minutes, the wizard put his free hand around the back of the seat, and Abel felt him take on some of the work. “You just figured out you can push?”

The wizard made no sign that he heard through the storm.

When they reached the wizard’s cart, the mule lay with her head flat against the ground, groaning as the rain pummelled against her back. Pip emerged from underneath the cart, jumped up at Abel, and licked his right hand.

“Hey, girl. How did you know it was me?”

Pip looked up at him and then shook away the foul water. Abel stroked her head. She turned in a small circle and crawled back under the cart, her nose twitching as she rested her chin beneath the nearest wheel.

The wizard joined Abel’s side and looked down at the quad bike, his polythene robe flapping against the wind. “I bet we could get it in the back of the cart.”

Abel looked between the cart and the quad bike. “You sure it will fit?”

“What?”

“I said you sure it will fit?”

“No, but we need to give it a try.”

Abel glanced back over his shoulder, scanning the buildings for signs of the sniper. He shook his head and turned his attention to the wizard, now unfastening the cart’s rear doors. The wizard opened them wide, revealing a gloomy box stuffed with odds and ends strewn haphazardly around a bedroll. The wizard placed a foot on the cabin floor, cursing as the door swung against his shoulder with the wind's force. He pushed his bedroll and a few items of junk towards the far end. He gave Abel a nod, and they both approached the quad bike. “Grab the front wheels.”

Abel gripped beneath the front-right tyre. He nodded at the wizard, and they both lifted the quad bike, muscles aching in his back. With strained groans and clenched teeth, they placed the front wheels onto the back of the cart. He let out a relieved sigh and moved around the machine's rear to lift it inside. “It’s heavier than it looks.”

When the back wheels landed inside the cart, the wizard pushed it in as far as it would go. He tried to close the doors, adjusting the quad bike's position to no avail. “It's not going to work.”

Abel leaned into the cart and examined the space. “I'll climb in. I can keep it from rolling out.”

A hesitant twitch wrinkled at the corner of the wizard's mouth. “Okay.”

Abel patted his thigh and gave a click with the side of his mouth. “Here, girl.”

Pip pushed out from under the cart, got to her feet, and shook. He patted inside the cart, gesturing for her to hop in. She looked inside, sniffed around for a few moments, pulled her head away, and stepped back.

“It's okay, girl.” Pip stared at him for a few seconds and walked away. “Your loss.”

He raised himself into the back of the cart, shuffling his back against the quad bike to try to get comfortable. He let his legs hang outside and stopped the door from swinging shut with his left forearm as the cart moved forward. He watched the road, still scanning for the sniper.

When they reached the highway, the rains subsided and the sky glowed a bright silvery-purple. Abel shifted his weight when the cart turned right, heading downhill towards the city. The hills to the west were just visible through the haze. He clenched his fists and shuddered at the tenderness of the acid burns around his knuckles.

Removing his cap, he folded the umbrella material and stuffed it into the top of his backpack. He squinted to make out what was behind him, wondering why the wizard had been reluctant to let him inside. The bedroll lay scrunched into a ball, its sheets yellowed and smelling of sour sweat. He sniffed at a different smell—something rotting, something dead. He stared into the darkness, allowing his eyes to adjust.

“Damn it” He started, his eyes locking on a cluster of lifeless rat heads. “Mister Fluffy, we meet again.”

9. The Pit

ABEL RETURNED FROM relieving himself as the wizard emerged bleary-eyed from the back of his cart. “Morning.”

The wizard stretched, yawned, and gave a slight nod. “You been awake long?”

“Not really.” Abel kicked aside the cold ash from the previous night’s fire. “I’m famished. I'm going to have a wander, see what I can find.”

The wizard gave a half-smile and scratched the back of his neck. “I'll come with you.”

Abel moved to the edge of the clearing and looked over a shoulder towards the rising sun. Ducking beneath branches and brushing aside ferns, he followed a winding animal trail through the trees, parallel to the river on his left. A shiver passed down his spine as dew seeped through his boots.

“You ever eat leaves?”

“Not really. They don’t fil you like other things.” He stopped and looked around at the nettles. “You could make a drink with these. Some of the mushrooms are alright.”

The wizard scoffed. “Mushrooms.”

“What?” He turned and watched the wizard pushed through the foliage behind him, stumbling over every other step.

“I ate some mushrooms once, and I swear I could see through time.”

Abel laughed and pushed forward through the trees. Something crunched beneath his boots. He stopped abruptly. “What the hell?” His gaze swept along the edge of a blast crater, his mouth turning dry as a deep crease set between his eyebrows.

Thousands of skulls and bones filled the crater, patches of bleached whiteness emerging through the blanket of brownish-grey dust. The wizard joined him and they stood in silence. Abel knew something had happened in the time before, something had caused the world to be on the verge of dying, but this...this was something he couldn’t comprehend.

The wizard swallowed and placed a hand on Abel's shoulder. “What is this place?”

Abel shook his head and bit down on his bottom lip.

“Want to take a look at that?” The wizard pointed to a bulldozer resting at the opposite side of the crater.

“No.” Abel stared at the bones, trying to count the number of people half-buried beneath the dust. “So many.”

“Let's go back.”

Abel nodded, but didn’t move. “How were there so many?”

The wizard shrugged and took Abel's arm, leading him back into the trees. “Let's go.”

––––––––

ABEL THUMBED THROUGH his copy of Moby Dick, staring at the pages but not taking in the words. He closed his eyes and sighed. How could he push the pit from his mind? The sight of all those skulls, those lives? How had they died? What had made the crater? What had caused it all to end?

Plez was the answer—it was always the answer. He could take just one hit and those thoughts would evaporate. Why resist?

His hand drifted towards his pistol. He had one bullet. Perhaps it was time. He could not go back to plez, would not. It took him months to go get clean. He didn’t want to let Sal down. And what about Pip? She wasn’t like one of the feral dogs. It was a miracle they even found each other. He shook his head, trying with all his will to keep strong, to keep his focus away from plez, away from suicide.

“I was thinking about those kids.” The wizard’s voice brought Abel from his mind.

“The kids we failed, you mean?”

“I think we should try again.”

Abel closed his book and got to feet. “What changed your mind?”

The wizard stared at the ground and shook his head. “There used to be a lot more of us, didn't there?”

“You mean, before?”

The wizard nodded. “I've never seen so many people. I can’t get my head around it...” His voice trailed off.

Abel walked over to the wizard's cart and placed a hand on the edge of its roof. “Life's precious.”

“But we need a plan.” The wizard met Abel’s gaze. “We can’t just go in there and hope things will just work out.”

Abel managed a smile. “We know what we’re dealing with now.”

Opening the cart’s door, the wizard took out two tins of food. “I’ll set the fire. You got any water?”

Abel went round the other side of the cart and retrieved his bottle from his backpack. He shook the bottle and frowned. “Empty. I’ll fill it up.”

Ambling down to the river, Abel found himself smiling. They could free those kids. They could make a difference. Life may have been hell, but life as a slave was another kind of hell.

Pip lapped at the water. She looked back at him for a second and carried on drinking. He crouched next to her, patted her side, unscrewed the bottle's cap, and held it under the water. An electric sting ran up his arm from the water's icy bite. Bubbles passed along his fingers. How could even think of ending everything when he had Pip? When the bottle filled, he got up and shook the droplets from his hands. “You alright, girl?” Taking the bottle to his lips, he held it there for a second, sniffing at the water before taking a swig.

He looked along the river, following its path as it diverged from the highway, weaving between hills until disappearing out of sight. A mile or so to the east, he made out the faint trace of buildings and concrete. He moved forward, squinting against the sun as he strained to see though the orange glare. Pulling his hat low, he turned and headed back to the wizard, now hunched over the fire.

“Any luck?”

“Yep.” Abel held up the bottle. “You know there’s a settlement along the river?”

The wizard straightened up and turned to him. “You sure?”

“If you follow the river, there’s a bunch of buildings.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll show you.”

The wizard’s eyes shifted from the fire to the cart, to the mule, and to the river. “Alright.”

Abel led the way back to the riverbank. Pip circled them before taking off to hunt. Reaching the riverbank, Abel pointed to the east. “Over there.”

The wizard shook his head. “They’re just ruins. Nothing there.” He turned back and made his way back to the fire.

“You been there?”

“I had a look once.”

“Right.” Abel walked at the wizard’s side. “Find anything?”

“I wasn’t looking to scavenge. I was looking to see if there were any marks for the show.”

Abel narrowed his eyes and stopped. “Marks?”

The wizard made a dismissive wave and gestured to the pair of tins resting next to the fire. “You alright cooking? I need to go.” He walked over to his cart, tore off a few strips of newspaper, and headed to a cluster of tangled bushes.

Abel took out his hunting knife, pierced the tins, flipped off their lids, and lowered them into the flames.

Smoke twisted up in lazy curls as the tins blackened and the beans steamed and simmered. He squatted, prodding the fire with a stick. With a sigh, he sipped the water and scanned the trees for signs of Pip. He stared at the mule for a long moment. The mule made no reaction when a fly landed on an eyelash above its right eye. Abel shook his head and used the stick to drag the tins away from the flames.

He went over to his backpack and took out a spoon and cloth.

“Smells good.” The wizard emerged from the bushes, his face glistening with sweat.

Abel grimaced and glanced at the tins. “Oh, the beans.”

“Of course, the beans. What did you think I was...” His words turned into a chuckle. “Very funny.” He snatched a spoon from his cart.

The cold pressed through Abel’s trousers when he sat on the bare soil. He rubbed his hands against the warmth and passed a tin to the wizard. The pair sat in silence, eating. Abel looked around for Pip and left half the tin until she returned.

“We need some kind of distraction.”

Abel tilted his head. “For what?”

“For the Family, for those kids. There are three of them and two of us.”

“We could assume one of them is in a bad way.”

The wizard shrugged. “If he can still shoot, he’s a risk.”

“I’m assuming they’re heading to the city.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just a hunch. When I was at the Grid, you’d get some of the Family talking about getting shipments from the east. Someone told me they had a factory in the city.”

The wizard scowled. “How?”

“I don’t know. It’s just what I heard.”

“How’re they supposed to get out there?”

Abel shrugged. “All I know is that’s the best we’ve got to go with. Now, I know we can’t follow them along the highway. They’d be onto us for sure. We could follow alongside until we can work out a distraction.”

“I don’t think the distraction’s our biggest problem. They were pretty messed-up.”

“I know.”

10. The Distraction

ABEL ROCKED FROM SIDE-to-side when the cart turned off the highway, coming to a stop in a clearing surrounded by trees, mosses, and crawling plants. He slipped down from the cart and stretched his legs, flexing his fingers. “What’s up?”

“I saw the Family.” The wizard hopped down from his seat, unfettered the mule, and led it to some grass at the clearing's edge.

“They’re still heading to the city?”

“Looks that way.”

Abel went over to the base of a sprawling oak tree and relieved himself. He looked around for Pip but saw no sign of her through the brush.

“Help me with this.”

Abel fastened his trousers, headed across the clearing, and joined the wizard next to a tall thin tree, its pale bark peeling from its trunk. They pushed and pulled at the tree, its trunk splitting and cracking until it opened like a yawning mouth and crashed to the ground. They lifted the tree to a vertical position and pushed it to fall the other way, prising it free from its base.

They broke up the tree, its brittle wood snapping with ease. Abel stripped the bark with his hunting knife and stood them up to create a roof over the logs for the fire while the wizard tore away the smaller branches.

An hour later, a campfire crackled at Abel's feet. He sat with his back against the cart, his backpack acting as an armrest, and smiled at Pip. “Hey, girl. Come here.” He got up to a squatting position as she bounded over to him. She stopped and licked his face. “You’re clean.” He stroked her side. “Good girl.”

“My skin’s itching like crazy.” The wizard examined the back of his right hand. “She must have taken a dip in the river back there.”

“Smarter than us, then.”

Pip trotted over to the fire, made a circle, and flopped down onto her belly.

“We still need a plan for tonight.”

Abel nodded and got up. With stiff joints, he walked over to the fire and poked it with a stick. He rubbed Pip’s head and sighed.

“So what’s the plan?”

Abel gritted his teeth and watched the fire. “I don’t know.”

“Well, don’t you think we need to think of something?”

He turned to the wizard with a grim smile. “If they’re going to the city, I can’t see them going on the water at night.”

“That makes sense.” The wizard picked his teeth with a broken fingernail.

“We should hit them at dawn. We can approach them in the dark, then get them at first light.” With the stick still in his hand, Abel stepped past the wizard and sat next to his backpack with his back against the cart. “We could use the quad bike to create a diversion. If we point it at their van, it should stop, and we get it back once we’ve freed the kids.”

“You make it sound very easy.”

Abel took the stick and drew a map in the soil. “That’s the highway and the edge of the water. Let’s assume they’ll be camping somewhere around here.” He made a circle in the dirt.

The wizard sat up, crossed his legs, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “We can’t know that.”

“True, but it’s a decent guess.” He drew three lines resembling a fork. “If we can set the quad bike this way. I’ll go this way, and you go this way. That napalm stuff still works, doesn’t it?”

The wizard nodded.

“Good. I’ll go ahead, use your spike and free the kids.”

“What if they can’t move again?”

Abel shook his head. “I’m hoping they’ll be okay. If they’re taking plez, they would have done it earlier.”

The wizard narrowed his eyes. “Speaking from experience?”

Yep.” He met the wizard’s scowl. “I’ve been there. Should be the best time.”

“Should’s a nice word.”

“It’s the best we’ve got.”

––––––––

THE QUAD BIKE CAST elongated shadows against the setting sun. Abel looked on as the wizard made the engine purr to life.

Pip jumped to her feet, her tail stiff.

“It’s okay, girl.”

She ducked her head, dodging when he tried to stroke her, her eyes fixed on the quad bike.

The wizard called something over the noise. The wheels spun in place, sending twigs flying behind them. He released the throttle and patted the handlebars. “I can secure this bit so it doesn’t stop.”

“Could you make it go faster?”

The wizard pushed the quad bike forward, bringing it to a halt at the highway's edge. He switched off the engine and turned to Abel. “This isn’t going to be enough. We need something more...” He searched for the word.

“Distracting?”

The wizard nodded. “Distracting. We need something that’s going to hold their attention, something that will confuse them for long enough so we could move in.”

The pair exchanged a knowing grin.

––––––––

THE MOON SHONE BRIGHT as stars twinkled in the clear sky. In the dull orange glow of the dying fire, Abel emptied his jacket pockets into his backpack, keeping only his torch, pistol, wing mirror, and knife.

He knocked on the wizard’s cart. “Wake up.”

He gazed at the quad bike, trying not to look at the taxidermy monstrosity secured to the seat with gaffer tape. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the cart's roof as nervous sweat seeped across his back. “Mister Fluffy,” he muttered, shaking his head.

The cart door creaked open, and the wizard looked around, confused. “What?”

“It’s time.”

11. The Shore

THE CAMPERVAN GLOWED ghostlike on the shoreline. Abel watched from the side of the highway, prone against the dirt. He retched against the stagnant water, the acrid stench of concentrated death and decay cloying at the back of his throat.

“You okay?” The wizard crouched next to him and looked through his binoculars.

“It’s that smell. I feel like I’m going to vomit.”

“We’ve got worse things to worry about than some stinking water.”

“What could you see?”

“One of them’s asleep in the front cabin. The other two are walking around. Both have rifles.”

“We rushed in too early last time. They’re expecting us.”

“But were they expecting Mister Fluffy?”

Abel let out a laugh and immediately locked his hands over his mouth. A trembling sensation passed over him as his pores prickled. This was ridiculous. What was he thinking? He flexed his raw fingers and got up to a crouching position. “I’ve got the spike and my pistol.”

“And I’ve got the napalm.”

“We’ll try to get as close as we could with the machine and point it towards the van. I’ll head up there.” He pointed to the embankment along the south of the highway. “You come when I show myself. I’ll give you a signal.”

The wizard got up and pocketed the binoculars. He let out a sharp breath and shuddered. “You can do this,” he said to himself. “You can do this.”

“We can do this,” Abel said, standing up and placing a hand on the wizard’s shoulder. “We can do this.”

––––––––

VEILED IN SHADOWS, Abel scrambled along the embankment, zigzagging his way towards the campervan until he was about twenty metres away. The first rays of sunlight emerged over the city, sending ripples of orange, purple, and red over the water's slick surface. He took the wing mirror from his jacket and wiggled it as a signal.

Unsure whether the wizard saw the sign, he held his breath and listened to the murmuring voices and pained groans coming from inside the van.

“Shut up,” one of the male slavers shouted, banging on the campervan.

Abel scanned the blast craters along the shoreline for signs of the wizard. He watched as a slaver opened the van’s side door, leaned inside, and emerged a few seconds later with a pair of skinny boys.

Edging closer, he watched the slaver chiding the kids, pacing before them and making wild, angry gestures. With a tight chest and clenched fists, he moved closer.

The quad bike's engine roared behind him. It hurtled towards the van, Mister Fluffy rocking on its seat.

The slavers stared at the quad bike.

The kids scattered.

Abel steeled himself and dropped from the embankment as the quad bike charged past the front of the van, its wheels catching on the edge of a crater before changing direction and rushing into the water.

“Drop your rifles.” Abel drew his pistol.

The first slaver released his weapon without hesitation, his face raw and blistered from burns.

Two redheaded boys looked up at him with strange expressions—part confusion, part fear.

“Run!” Abel gestured to the highway. The kids frowned, exchange glances, then turned, and ran.

A glowing lump of napalm arced through the air, landing at the second slaver's feet.

The slaver stopped dead, dropping his rifle and thrusting his hands over his head.

Abel picked up the first slaver’s rifle and hurled it into the water, regretting it the moment it left his hand. With his pistol pointed at the second slaver, he ran over to the van, its door still open.

He looked inside at the tangle of arms and legs. The stench poured from inside, more pungent than the floodwaters. A few pairs of purple-rimmed eyes stared at him. One of the kids shook his head with fear. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Gripping the spike with one hand, Abel drove it into a link of chain, twisting and rocking it from side-to-side.

“We need to go.” The wizard grabbed Abel’s shoulder.

“What?”

“There’s more of them.”

“Give me a second.”

“Now!”

“Just—”

“They’re coming.”

Abel dropped the spike and looked out from the van as the wizard held the three slavers at bay with the threat of napalm and pointed across the water to a group of approaching boats.

“Damn it. We need to do this.”

A bullet zipped past his ear.

“We need to go.”

The burnt slaver's face burst open as a bullet tore through his skull, his body falling limp to the ground.

More bullets whizzed by, ricocheting off the van, sending up explosions of soil from the ground.

The wizard cried out as a bullet tore into him, his bucket clattering to the ground. “My shoulder!”

Abel pointed him towards the highway. “Run.”

“I can’t.” He held his arm, blood seeping through his robe.

Abel looked between the kids and the approaching boats and knew it was too late. “Come on.”

The pair ran from the slavers, keeping to the edge of the highway. The wizard stumbled, collapsing to his knees. Abel lifted one of the wizard’s arms over his shoulders and got him to his feet.

Looking back across the water, he saw the boats still approaching the shore. “Keep going. You’re going to be okay.”

They moved forward, the wizard wavering with each step.

Breathless and drenched in sweat and blood, they reached the turn-off towards their camp.

Pip greeted the wizard with a whine.

Abel followed her towards the cart, cursing as his legs grew wobbly, his muscles burning.

The mule looked up at them nonplussed for a second and turned its attention back to the grass.

Abel laid the wizard next to the dying fire. Crouching, he lifted the wizard’s robe, wiped the blood from around his arm, and examined the gaping hole in his right biceps. The wizard cried out in pain when Abel prodded the wound.

“It looked like it went through.”

The wizard responded with an agonised grunt.

Abel took a strip of cloth from his backpack and tied it around the wound. “We need to get you to Trinity.”

“No.”

“Jacob can fix you up. You’ll be fine, but we need to go.”

“What happened to the kids?”

Abel shook his head. “We failed.”

––––––––

THE WIZARD SAT SLUMPED with his back against his cart, hunched forward like a vulture waiting for death. Muddy clouds twisted above. Abel knelt before the wizard, his eyes fixed on the patch of dried blood caked on the wizard’s robe. “We need to get moving.”

The wizard nodded. “You think they’ll come after us?”

Abel shifted his gaze towards the highway and sighed. “Yep. The quicker we can get you to Trinity, the quicker we can fix you up and tried again to free those kids.”

The wizard spluttered an incredulous laugh. “Are you kidding me?” He pushed his jaw forward, his eyes widening. “It’s over.”

Abel tugged at his beard as he got to his feet. “We can still do this. We just need another plan.”

With effort, the wizard pushed himself to a standing position, leaning against the side of his cart for balance. He glared at Abel for several seconds, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You any good at swimming?”

Abel gave a blank stare.

“Where do you think they’re taking those kids?”

Abel’s mouth moved as if to speak.

The wizard’s hand shot up in a silencing gesture. He winced at the pain. “It’s too late for them. They’ll be taking the kids into the city to work.”

Abel gave a half-shrug, casting his gaze back towards the road. He didn’t want to leave it like this. He turned back to the wizard and flexed his burnt fingers. “You think they’re just going to dump the van?”

The wizard made a confused look. “Van? What’s the van got to do with anything?”

“Would you travel with your cart for days then just leave it when you reached your destination?”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

The wizard shook his head. “It’s over.”

Abel pointed towards the highway as dead trees rattled around them. “I bet they’ll have made a pick-up. I bet they’ll be heading back towards the Grid. We can stop them.”

The wizard squared up to Abel with clenched fists, his sour breath brushing against Abel’s cheek. “You seen this? I nearly died. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Of course—”

“Just shut up.”

Abel stepped back and wiped spittle from his cheek. He raised his hands in a consolatory gesture and took another step backwards. “Let’s tried to calm down.”

The wizard trembled, his breath whistling through his nose. “You want me to calm down? You want me to calm down? Since I’ve been running with you, it’s been nothing but trouble.”

Abel went to speak.

“Don’t,” the wizard snapped. “Don’t you dare say another word, because I swear to God, I’ll take that spike and drive it into your skull. We clear?”

Abel gave a single nod and took another stepped back. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s sorry going to do? Do you know how many times someone tried to kill me before I started running with you?”

Abel didn’t respond.

“Not once.”

“I’m sorry. I just saw those kids and thought we could help them.”

The wizard slumped his shoulders and turned to his cart. He sat on the ground, leaning his back against a wheel. Abel didn’t shrink away from his glare. The wizard closed his eyes and let out a long deep sigh. “You need to drop it. We tried and it didn’t work.”

Abel walked over to the cart and sat to the wizard’s left, resting against a wooden panel. “I can’t. Not while there’s still hope.”

The wizard turned to him, his face contorting into a garish scowl. “You know what I’ve realised? It just dawned on me.”

Abel shook his head.

“You haven’t thought any of this through.”

“We can come up with a better plan.”

“Not talking about the plan. Say we freed those kids. Then what?”

Abel adjusted his weight, squirming. “I’d figure something.”

“How would you feed them? Where would they go? Were you going to help them get clean?”

“I don’t know. I just...” He staggered to his feet and looked between the trees. He patted his thigh and whistled. “Here, girl.”

Pip emerged from the trees to the south, her tongue hanging limp from the side of her mouth. He crouched to one knee and stroked her, patting her side and rubbing behind her ears. “Hey, girl. Where you been?” He turned to the wizard. “We should get on the road, get you fixed-up.”

“Yeah. We need to get the cart sorted.”

“I could help, if you want?”

“Think you can drive?”

Abel gave a thin smile and nodded. “I can give it a go. How hard could it be?” He walked over to the mule and lifted the reins, leading it over to the cart. He grunted and brayed, frantically shifting its head from left to right. Abel staggered backwards. “What the hell?”

The wizard let out a pained chuckle. “He doesn’t know you. Help me up.”

Abel heaved the wizard to his feet. The wizard gripped his shoulder, wincing with each stepped. He watched the wizard take the reins and guide the mule to the cart. The mule stayed calm. The wizard patted the mule on the side of his neck, murmuring something.

“Talking to a mule now? That bullet must have hit your head too.”

The wizard glared at Abel, his jaw clenched. “You talk to that dog of yours.”

He raised his hands. “Just fooling with you. Trying to lighten the mood.”

“Well, keep your thoughts to yourself. I don’t want to hear any more of your crap.”

“What’s up with you?”

The wizard barked out a laugh. “I’m all banged up because of you.”

“I said I’m going to help you get fixed-up.”

“And then you and me...we’re done.”

12. Apples

ABEL SQUINTED AT THE setting sun, his teeth grinding. Air whistled through his nostrils, knuckles turning white as he gripped the reins. Dark clouds drifted in swirls above as the mule plodded west. Pip chased something along a line of nettle bushes clustered in a tangle to the left of the road.

A loud bang came from inside the cart. Abel looked behind him and pulled on the reins, bringing the mule to a stop. Holding his breath, he stepped down from the seat and hopped to the ground, stumbling as his right foot landed awkwardly on a stone.

“There’s a place we could set up for the night, not too far from here,” the wizard said, leaning from the back of the cart.

“Yep. Anything else?”

The wizard slipped back into the cart without answering.

Shaking his head, Abel pulled himself back into the seat and took up the reins. The mule grunted and moved forward.

––––––––

TINY SWARMING INSECTS cluttered the air when Abel signalled for the mule to make a left off the highway. He flapped an arm frantically as he pushed bugs from his mouth and blew them from his nostrils. The pungent stench of fermenting apples left a sickly taste in the back of his throat. The wheels slipped beneath the cart as it struggled to gain traction along the carpet of decomposing fruit.

Abel brought the cart to a halt as trees loomed all around him. “I’ll get a fire on. Hopefully, we’ll smoke away some of these damn bugs.” He looked around at the fruit and sighed. “The apples are down early this year.”

He skirted around the edge of the clearing, searching the dried grasses for anything useful as he gathered fallen branches. He turned to see the wizard glaring back at him. Taking the branches to the centre of the clearing, he dropped them between a pair of tree trunks, arranging them in a V-shape and placing the smaller branches at the base.

Getting to his feet, he wandered over to the cart and climbed up to retrieve his backpack from next to the seat.

“What you doing? Get down from there.”

“Just getting my pack.” Abel gritted his teeth.

“Yeah? Well, ask next time.”

Abel dropped his backpack to the ground and squared up to the wizard. “What’s the problem?”

“You’re the problem.” The wizard made a sidestep and walked towards the mule.

Abel let out a long sigh, shook his head, and reached into his backpack, tearing out a page from the ancient newspaper and ripping it into strips before laying them out under the logs.

After a few minutes, the flames took hold. A line of white smoke drifted up towards the emerging stars. A pang of fear struck Abel. He knew the wizard was in a bad way and that they needed to get to Trinity. He hoped that when the wizard wasn’t in pain, he’d come back around. Being alone scared the hell out of him. The wizard had been a good distraction, had kept him from thinking too much about plez.

The wizard barged past him and slammed an open tin of beans onto the flames. “These are mine. Sort your own.”

Wordlessly, Abel got up and moved away. This wasn’t good. The wizard was hurting, but that was no excuse for being a prick. He called out for Pip and smiled when she burst through a leafy fern bush with a rabbit locked between her teeth. “Hey, girl.”

Pip dropped the rabbit at his feet and rolled onto her back. He rubbed her belly, laughing as she squirmed, her tail batting against the bare earth. She twisted and jumped to her feet.

Groping inside his jacket pocket, Abel took out the rubber ball and threw it. Pip ran after it with bounding feet, throwing chunks of soil behind her as her legs scrambled.

“Watch where you’re throwing that thing.”

Abel looked over to him and scowled. “I didn’t even throw it in your direction.”

“Yeah? Well, make sure you don’t.”

Abel muttered cursed to himself and turned his attention back to Pip. At least she was in a good mood.

13. Clearing

ABEL ROLLED ONTO HIS back, shivering as the first light of dawn spread across the sky. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, yawned, coughed, and scratched himself. The campfire hissed, no more than smouldering embers, white and pink around a pile of grey ash. A cockroach crawled around next to him, its lacquered wings bristling.

He jerked to his feet, searching for his blanket. He looked around, all traced of sleep evaporating when he saw no sighs of the cart.

The wizard had gone.

Alert, he scanned the trees for any clues suggesting an attack.

Parallel cart tracks cut through the mush of rotting fruit. He followed them until they faded at the highway's edge.

He wandered back to the clearing and sighed. Branches rattled above as brown leaves drifted to the ground. He gathered twigs and branches and took them over to last night’s campfire. He kicked aside the dead ashes as the last few embers radiated with dull warmth. He searched for his blanket and backpack. He dropped the stick, his body tensing. The wizard had taken everything.

“Damn it. Damn it.”

Pip’s rubber ball rested on the ground between the fire and where he had parked the cart. He whistled, patting his thigh. “Here, girl.”

He waited and whistled again. “Here, girl.” His words echoed back at him. “Pip?”

He reached down and picked up the ball, wiping away the dirt before dropping it in his jacket pocket. “Here, girl. Pip!”

A sharp pain in his chest knocked him to his knees. He gasped for breath and let out a violent sob. He clawed at the ground, banging at it with his fists. “Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.”

The sound of crashing came from behind him. He spun, reaching for his knife.

Pip ran up to him, licking his hand.

With shaking knees, he crouched, stroking her, grateful she was still with him, not knowing what he would have done if the wizard had taken her. She pushed her nose against his jacket pocket.

He took the ball out and threw it, watching as it bounced along the clearing. The ball came to a stop in the wizard’s tracks.

14. The Cave

ABEL DROVE HIS HUNTING knife into the first feral dog's throat, pivoted, and kicked the second. He lunged forward, thrusting his blade into the second dog. The dog lay twitching for several seconds and stopped. Breathless, he looked around, listening. The dogs lay dead—one to his right and the other to the left. “You could come out now, girl.”

Pip padded from behind a fern bush. She walked over to Abel's side and let out a low whine. Around them, the brownish-grey dust stuck to everything. The lines of ancient brick foundations poked through the ground while thistles and thorn bushes made their homes in the cracked asphalt.

He searched along the roadside, looking between nettles until he found some dock leaves. He tore a handful and wiped the blood from his blade.

Heading south, Pip bounded along the road next to him, hopping over fallen telegraph poles and breaking away to sniff the bases of sagging lampposts. The sky hung cloudy and grey.

With a grim smile, Abel slid the hunting knife back into his jacket.

Pip darted off to the left and returned a few moments later, turning in circles and skipping on her back legs.

“What is it, girl?”

Pip made a loop and ran into the bushes.

Abel looked around, gave a shrug, and followed. With his head down and arms outstretched, he pushed through the branches and leaves, shaking away the dust as it fell onto his face. Pip barked, but he couldn't see her through the trees. He pushed through, following the barks until he reached a clearing. He scratched his beard and stared up at the old brick building, still standing. Eight windows lined the ground floor and a double-door stood in the centre. The floor above had nine windows, many of them still glazed.

“I'll be damned. Good work, girl.” He patted Pip on her side when she returned to his heel. He listened for noise but only heard the trees shaking against the wind.

With tentative stepped, he moved towards the entrance. Rotten wood revealed itself beneath peeling black paint around the doorframe. The doors stood sturdy, thick oak with wrought iron flourishes. He tried the right door, standing back as it creaked open.

He covered his nose at the smell of damp and insects, and leaned inside.

Shafts of grey light poured into the building, reflecting against the peeling wallpaper. A stairway rose ahead. A desk stood to his right. The carpet squelched beneath his feet.

He went around the desk and opened the top drawer. A ball of rubber bands rolled around inside. A faded box of pens rested on its side next to a few loose staples. He took the rubber bands and pulled one free. It crumbled in his hand when he tried to stretch it. He dropped the ball and closed the drawer.

He tried the next drawer down and found a pencil, a ruler, and a book. The building clicked and creaked around him. Pip sniffed at something in a nearby corner. He blew dust from the book and examined the cover—Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut. He thumbed the pages, read a few lines, and dropped the book into his jacket along with the pencil. The bottom drawer contained the fossilised remains of a shrivelled banana and nothing more.

He looked up, watching Pip as she scurried off along the corridor. She sniffed the crack at the bottom of the door at the far end. Reaching the fourth door on the right, he signalled for Pip to stand back. He tried the door, but something heavy blocked the way. With a grunt, he shoved into the door shoulder-first and stumbled into the room. A plastic chair clattered to the floor.

Eyes adjusting to the half-light, he started as his feet brushed against the bony remains of another wanderer.

He stood over the skeleton, trying to work out whether it was a man or a woman. He shooed Pip when she tried to tug away a femur. “Leave it.”

Pip bolted from the room.

He marched over to the curtain, pulled it across, and looked around the room. A bucket, half-filled with dried faeces, stood in the corner. A second bucket brimmed with white ash and the charred remains of a piece of wood. A tin of something lay on the floor next to the body, its label long-gone. Smiling grimly, he picked it up and shook it, trying to discern its contents. A box of matches rested on its side. He opened the box, checked inside, and pocketed them.

He turned to the bones and examined the clothes. Rot and maggots had eaten through them, but the boots were good. Leaning down, he slid the boots away from the feet, shuddering when bones clattered to the floor. Out of habit, he went to put the boots in his backpack and shook his head when he realised he didn’t have it. Instead, he gripped them awkwardly under his left arm and sighed. How could he ply his trade without a pack?

The remains of the dead were nothing new to him, but there was something about the scene that filled him with dread—not for the unrecognizable person, but himself and his own fate. He did not want to die alone.

Stepping back into the corridor, he closed the door behind him and took a blue wax crayon from his jacket, marking the door with a cross. He was always on the lookout for somewhere he could stay, somewhere he could call home. This place was too exposed and too big.

He tried the next door on the left. It swung open without resistance. Two chairs stood on either side of a desk. The shelves above were empty. A computer monitor lay on its side, its screen smashed. Shards of glass spread across the floor below the window. The curtain flapped with the wind. He went round the desk, looked in the drawers, and took a few pencils.

On leaving, he marked the doorframe with a cross and moved on to the next room, its layout the same. He searched through the drawers and stopped when he came across a book. He brushed the cover with a sleeve and turned it in his hands. He sighed and discarded it when he realised it was a computer instruction manual.

Returning to the corridor, he marked the doorframe and whistled for Pip. She appeared with her tail in the air and tongue hanging from the side of her mouth. “Come on, girl.”

Abel stepped outside and pushed their way back through the brush and onto the road. He headed north, back the way they came, but Pip insisted they continued south.

“It's this way.” He gestured back towards the highway.

Pip ran over to him and grabbed his sleeve, giving it a gentle tugged. She ran on ahead, looking back at him as she skirted the right side of the road.

Abel shrugged and followed.

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A STRONG WIND BLEW around them when Abel and Pip reached the edge of a gorge. A river snaked from east to west below, the rocks red and treacherous. Pip ran towards the edge.

“Stop!”

Pip disappeared over the side.

“Damn it.” He ran to the lip of the gorge and looked down. A path curved to his right, carved by nature from the sheer rocks. He caught a glimpse of Pip’s tail wagging ahead. Sighing, he dropped down and followed the path.

Trembling as he edged forward, he gripped the rocks and tried not to look down. Loose stones and dust fell around him, descending into the river far below. Squeezing around a large jutting rock, he saw Pip sitting on her haunches, panting at the mouth of a cave.

The entrance loomed over him, thin and jagged and black. He followed as Pip headed inside, cold air filling the space. Pip’s claws clicked against the stone floor as the sound of his boots echoed around them.

Moving deeper into the cave, he became aware of the faint glow of dripping fungus and the trickling of a stream. He could just make out Pip’s shadowy outline as she lapped the water. He groped towards her, finding his way forward in the darkness.

The stream stretched half-a-foot across, fast flowing and icy-cold. He cupped some water in a hand, sniffed it, and placed it against his lips. It smelled and tasted of nothing. He waited for a few moments, waited for the burning sensation, but nothing happened. Nodding to himself, he took a sip.

“Good work.” He rubbed Pip behind her ears.

She paddled in the stream. He watched her for several minutes and took off his boots and thick socks. He dropped the socks into the water, squeezing away the sweat and dirt. He laid them flat on a rock to dry.

He watched the faint ripples of water reflected along the ceiling as his mind wondered to thoughts of plez. He shook them away. Plez would bring nothing but desperation and pain. But, perhaps, it was worth it for that moment of bliss. He needed something else, something to give him meaning.

Sal preached to him about God, about finding faith. He wished he could believe, wished he could share her conviction, but when he looked around at the world, he saw only death and rot. If God was real, he was long dead. But, there was hope—there was always hope. Things could get better. Life could always be much, much worse. But, was there meaning in hope? Could he find hope in a hopeless world? He wasn’t so sure.

The water's chill sent shivered along his skin when he pushed his feet below the surface. Gasping, he held them for several seconds, rubbing his blisters against the smooth rocks. He watched Pip playing in the water and smiled.

15. The Gift

ABEL WALKED TOWARDS the setting sun as Pip trotted at his side. He glanced over a shoulder at the city’s black waters glistening against the dying light. The high branches of dead pines rattled against the breeze. He scanned the horizon for signs of an approaching storm. He needed to stay focused, stay alert.

He stopped and looked towards the campervan, no more than a distant dot on the edge of the floodwaters and shook his head—he had let those kids down. “We should find somewhere for the night.”

Ignoring him, Pip sniffed at the air and darted into the trees to the right.

He sighed and trudged on, the pull of plez whispering somewhere in the back of his mind. The remains of a metal barrier marked the left side of the road.

They passed twisted lampposts and the crumpled heaps of wrecked cars.

Trees made way for bare earth pockmarked with blast craters, some of them housing pools of stagnant water. Nothing grew.

Pip returned with a dead mole locked between her jaws. She dropped it at Abel’s feet.

He leaned down and picked it up, its body still warm. Blood gathered around its mouth. “Good girl,” he managed. She would probably eat better without him. But, he protected her when he could. He wondered how much she cared for him, whether she felt the same kind of love, he did for her. He compared it to his friendship with the wizard, if he could even call it that. She was there for him, unquestioning. They looked after each other. He needed her company. Being alone was not an option.

Kneeling next to her, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his head against her side. “Shall we find some wood?”

––––––––

PIP TORE APART HER half of the mole, its dead eyes glistening against the firelight.

Abel leaned back against a dead sycamore and poked the fire at his feet. He turned the skinned mole over, salivating at the cooking meat. The smell brought to mind his days at the Grid, how he’d always have to look over his shoulder when he cooked, how he’d happily trade a decent meal for just one more hit.

Pip looked up at him for a second and focused her attention back on the mole, her teeth scraping against its bones. Smoke drifted through a gap in the surrounding trees. Insects hummed faintly above the rustling leaves.

He reached into his jacket and took out the tin, placing it on the ground to his right, and pierced it with his knife. He flipped it open to find it filled with baked beans. He sniffed the sauce and smiled to himself—it was either that or scream.

Where did they come from? Why was it always beans? He nestled the tin among the flames, listening as the sticks crackled and hissed.

Pip scrambled to her feet, her tongue curling up as she yawned.

Sighing, he patted the ground to his left.

Pip walked over, made a circle, and flopped down next to him with her back to the fire.

He rubbed her hips, grinning when her tail beat against the ground. One day he would find somewhere they could call their home—somewhere quiet, hidden, and far from temptation. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep wandering the wastes.

Steam rose from the beans. Taking a kerchief from his pocket, he wrapped it around his hand, and shifted the tin from the flames, allowing it to cool for a minute or so. He scooped into the beans with his fingers and took a mouthful, enjoying the warmth. When half the beans remained, he tipped them onto the ground for Pip.

She got up, ate them, and lay back down next to him when she finished.

Tossing the tin aside, he took the mole from the flames and bit down, hot fat dripping into his mouth. He tore the meat from the bone and left the carcase for Pip.

“We've got a long walk ahead of us tomorrow.” He made a bed from his coat, lay down on the ground, and closed his eyes, trying with all his will to ignore plez’s call.

––––––––

ABEL SHIVERED AGAINST the cold when he awoke. The sky glowed red with the first hints of dawn.

Pip slept, curled in a tight ball, growling with each breath.

He picked up his jacket, brushing away the fallen leaves, dust, and soil.

Pip jumped to her feet and shook.

“Hey, girl.” His words came out in a dry croak. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

Pulling his jacket around him, he searched between the trees for dry twigs and gathered a dozen or so under his arm and walked back over to the previous night’s ashes to build a new fire.

Pip wandered off, and by the time she returned, the fire burned brightly. She sat in front of him and gave an expectant whine.

“I got nothing, girl.”

Pip licked his hand and whined again.

“We’re all out.” It took all he had not to shout at her. She wasn’t the only one who was hungry.

After several minutes, he got to his feet and stamped out the fire. “Let’s go.”

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THE SUN HUNG LOW AND red above the city when they returned to the highway. Sunlight caught the rooftops with glaring pools of white light extending over the floodwaters, rippling in swathes like rainbows. Abel covered his nose with a forearm as a gust of wind brought with it the stench of rot and decay.

He found himself smiling as the sun warmed the tops of his shoulders.

Pip ran on ahead, weaving between gutted cars and upturned trucks.

Abel checked each vehicle he passed but found nothing worth taking.

They came to a stop around noon at a place where the river curved towards the road.

Pip jumped into the water, swam for a few moments, and scrambled back onto the bank. She stood next to Abel, spraying him with water as she shook herself dry.

“Damn it. Watch where you're doing that.”

Pangs of hunger tugged sharply at his stomach. The last time he’d been this hungry, at least he had plez. He glanced over his shoulder towards the city. Something moved on the road behind him. Without hesitation, he gripped the handle of his pistol as the boots he’d found hung from his left hand.

The shape of a woman came into focus. A rifle rested over one shoulder. As she approached, he recognised her hard and scarred face. He gave a cautious smile, keeping his hands on his weapon. “It's been a while.”

The woman squinted and tilted her head. “I know you. You’ve not been to the Grid for a while.”

“Nope, I'm running alone these days, keeping with the dog, keeping myself clean.”

The woman nodded. “Can always tell with the eyes.”

“Yep.”

“Got some plez on me if you’ve got stuff to trade. Fresh batch from the other side. Good stuff.”

He shook his head. “I'm clean. I don't want to go back to that.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “You never get clean. You always come back.” Her voice softened. “And the Family’s always waiting when you do.”

His jaw grew tight. “I'm not going back.”

“Alright.” She gave a half-shrug and reached into her jacket. She took out a purple crystal, the size of a thumbnail, and dropped into his hand. “Consider this a gift.”

He watched her for several minutes as she made her way west, the crystal gripped in his palm. Pip returned to his heel as he pocketed the plez. “Damn it.”

16. The Chair

TWO DAYS LATER, ABEL took a right off the highway and along the single-lane trail towards Trinity. Pip sniffed at the lip of the road ahead, stopping only to relieve herself. He squinted as the setting sun ducked behind a distant hilltop, casting its orange glow across the wheat fields to his left. He hunched his shoulders into his jacket and dipped his head against the cold, weakened by thirst and hunger.

A patchwork of colours and materials surrounded Trinity—a fence constructed from sheets of corrugated iron punctuated by blocks of stone and cracked concrete. Cables and ropes weaved through the fence, holding everything together.

The sounds of movement and laughter, the grunting of pigs, and the lowing of cows came from inside. Smoke drifted high into the air, rocking with the breeze as it caught the dying sunlight. The trail ended abruptly, cut off at the fence.

He beat a fist against a wooden panel. “Hello? Sal?”

He waited, looking back along the trail. He turned his attention to the towering crucifix standing to his right. He banged the wood panel again. Leaning his head back, he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Sal? Jacob? Anyone?”

A rattling came from inside. He stepped back as part of the fence scraped along the ground.

A lean man poked his head through a foot-wide gap. “Yes?”

Abel removed his tattered baseball cap, forcing a smile. “Is Sal around? Jacob?”

The man nodded. “Wait there.”

Abel sighed as the fence closed and shifted his weight, trying to relieve the pressure on his blistered feet. He turned west and caught the last moments of light before the sun dipped behind the hills, streaking the sky with reds and purples.

The fence rumbled behind him. “Hey, Sal.” He offered her a genuine smile.

Sal wore a thick brown robe, its hood draping down her back. She smiled, leaned forward, and embraced him. “You okay?” Concern etched her voice. She stroked Pip's head.

“I’ve got some things to trade.” He glanced down at the boots.

Sal nodded and gestured for him to follow. “You missed the evening meal. I'm sure we could knock something together with the leftovers.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Sal closed the fence behind them, securing the entrance with a sturdy length of rope.

Trinity opened out before him—rows of huts and buildings, a granary, a water tower, and a church. Flaming torches lined the fence as bonfires burned in a few dozen steel barrels. They walked along a dirt track, sloping gently towards the centre.

“Has the wizard been back?

“That charlatan?” Sal shook her head. “I think we were all glad to see the back of him.”

“He ran out on me, took my stuff.”

“I was worried you’d go with him. I didn’t trust him.”

“We tried to help some kids. The Family had them dragging a van down to the city.”

Sal shook her head and sighed. “The Family.”

They passed vegetable patches, marked out by wire fences. A pair of cows and a goat looked up, staring at Pip. The smells of wood smoke, herbs, animals, vinegar, and toilets filled the air.

Abel wished he could live in a place like this. They'd invited him once, but he turned them down. There was no way he could bring himself to believe what they preached and live in service to a God he knew didn’t exist.

Sal opened the door to a wooden hut, pushing a shoulder against the stiffness. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of sweat and damp.

Pip sat on her haunches, brushing the ground with her wagging tail, her ears twitching.

“Sorry.” Sal flapped at the air. “The bedding had been changed, but the trader who came yesterday had a real odour problem.”

“Right.” Abel could just make out the single bed, flush against the opposite wall. At the end of the bed, a wooden chair rested in the corner at an awkward angle. To the bed's right, a squat side-table stood with a fresh beeswax candle on its top.

“Leave your pack here and we'll sort you something to eat.”

Abel frowned. “He took my pack.”

She shook her head.

Pip pushed her way inside and sniffed around the room’s edges, pushing her nose against the join between the wall and floorboards.

Abel tossed the boots onto the bed and turned to the door. “Come on, girl.” He patted his hip.

They headed towards a large wooden building. Sal pushed the door open as they entered the pitch-black communal hall.

Pip ran on ahead and found something to eat on the floor.

Sal stepped outside and returned a short time later with a flaming torch. She moved around the room, lighting candles as she went, and then placed the torch in a wall sconce to the door's right. “Take a seat, I'll be right back.” She nodded towards the three long tables filling the room.

“Thanks, Sal.” He pulled out a long bench from beneath the nearest table and sat. He rested on his elbows and smiled when Pip turned in a circle and lay at his feet, her body warm against the tops of his boots.

Sal returned a few minutes later and placed a tin plate and cup in front of him, the plate filled with half a loaf of bread, a couple of cold potatoes, and slivers of chicken. The cup brimmed with fresh water.

“Sorry, this was all we had left.” She sat opposite him.

“This is great.” He offered some chicken to Pip, her nose wet against his hand when she took it.

“How's life? Have you been back to the Grid?”

“Not since I got clean. Life's hard, but I’ve got this one with me.” He reached down and rubbed Pip’s head.

“I'm glad. That place was no good.”

“I ran into one of the Family on the way here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“She was giving the usual shtick, offering me plez.” He shook his head, giving a half-shrug.

She leaned forward. “And?”

“And, what? I told her I wasn't interested.”

She sat back, nodding. “Good. That's good.”

“Yep.” He took a sip of water and hated himself in that moment. He hadn’t lied, but he hadn’t been truthful either. The plez remained in his pocket—whispering to him, tempting him.

“Resisting could be hard.”

“Yep.” He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and leaned forward. “It's always there, you know?”

She offered a grim smile and reached for his right hand. “I'm really proud of how you've changed.”

He shook his head. “I've not changed. Plez changed me. Without it, I'm just back to being me.”

“That's not true. God helped you become a better person.”

He pulled his hand back and looked away. “Come on, Sal. You know how I feel about this God stuff.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Doesn’t stop it from being true.”

“And saying that doesn’t mean it is either.”

“You’ll come around.”

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THE FOUL STENCH OF sweat seeped through the hard mattress when Abel put his head down to sleep. It was only in these moments when he lay down that he realised how tired he was, how much his feet hurt and his joints ached. Pip lay curled into a ball on the floorboards to his left. He moved his feet over the edge of the bed, picked up the candle and got to his feet. He opened the door to let in some fresh air, leaned outside and breathed.

Only a couple of torches still burned as the moonlight glimmers silver across the rooftops. A faint rustle came from the chicken coops. One of the pigs snored.

He went back inside, put the candle on the side table, stepped over Pip, and lifted the chair from the corner. He dragged it into the night, and leaned it against the outside wall, the air around him dry and still. Exhausted, he took a seat and stared up at the stars, tears welling in his eyes. He took the plez crystal from his jacket, turning it in his hand, watching as moonlight caught it with a purple glow.

He sighed and sucked in his bottom lip. He pocketed the crystal and took out his pistol, feeling its weight. Removing the bullet, he blew down the barrel and held it up to the light. He replaced it, gripped the pistol’s handle and closed his eyes.

––––––––

“ABEL?” THE VOICE CAME muffled, distant. “Abel?”

He opened his eyes, blinking at the rising sun. Sal leaned over him, deep lines etched across her brow.

“What’s going on?”

She shook her head. “I could ask you the same question.” She gestured to his pistol, frowning.

He looked down at his hands, the pistol hanging limp from his right forefinger. “Damn it.” He wasn’t quite sure what he was thinking when he took it out. “I was cleaning it. I must have drifted off.”

She folded her arms, looking down at him. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You were calling out.”

Rolling his shoulders, he sat up and met her gaze. He followed the line of one of her dreadlocks past her waist and stared at the ground. “It’s just getting to me. This stuff with the wizard, failing those kids.”

“You didn’t fail anybody,” she whispered, resting a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up. “We tried to free them, but we failed.” He dropped his head and glanced down at the pistol.

“They’re just things. You can replace your stuff.”

“It’s not that.” He looked back up at her. How could he explain his thoughts? How could he tell her he had brought plez back into Trinity? He let out a shuddering breath. “I can’t be out there alone. I know I’m clean, but the nights are long out there. It drags you in.” He clawed at his beard. “It’s hard being alone.”

“But you’re not alone. You’ve got friends here. You’ve got Pip.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I thought the wizard was my friend. We worked well together, you know?”

“Put that away before anyone else sees.” She nodded at the pistol. “We’ll get some breakfast and talk some more.”

He slid the pistol inside his jacket. “You’re right.” He took off his cap and raked his fingers through his matted hair. “I’ve got to look out for Pip.” He turned, looking at the door to his room. A scratching noise came from inside. He got up and opened the door, and Pip bolted outside, relieving herself on the bare earth. She kicked chunks of soil behind her with her back legs and trotted over to Abel.

“Hey, girl.” He crouched to one knee and stroked behind her ears. Sal was right. He had to look out for Pip. He had friends at Trinity. If he did something stupid, he would be letting them all down. “It’s you and me, girl. It’s you and me.”

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THE COMMUNAL HALL BUZZED with clattering plates, cutlery, and laughter. Aromas from freshly baked bread and simmering porridge drifted by. Pip tugged at a strip of salted beef and leaned against Abel’s legs. He smiled. Breaking bread with other people was always better than a tin of beans.

“Abel.”

Abel looked up as Jacob handed him a tin plate. “Thanks.”

“Sal tells me you’ve been on the roads with that wizard.” Jacob steepled his fingers as tightness pulled at the corner of his lips.

Abel took a bread roll from a tray being passed along the table. He always hated the way Jacob spoke to him, the way his comments seemed loaded with implication and judgement. He dropped it onto his plate, met Jacob’s gaze, and gave a half-shrug. “He ran off on me, took my stuff.”

Jacob leaned back, looking down his nose.

Abel glared and took a bite from the bread. He considered keeping quiet for the sake of Sal, but he needed to let him know he wasn’t someone who could be walked over. “What?”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Jacob dropped his hands and leaned forward. He sipped from a clay cup and smiled at Sal’s approach. “I seem to recall telling you that man couldn’t be trusted.”

Abel dragged his sleeve across his lips. “What of it?”

“Just an observation.”

A prickle of heat passed up Abel’s neck. He could slam Jacob’s head down on the table before he had chance to respond. “An observation, huh?” His fists tightened.

Sal reached the end of the table and looked between Abel and Jacob. “Is everything okay?”

“I was just telling our friend he was wrong to travel with that ridiculous showman.” He took another sip from his cup.

Abel scoffed. “You were being smug, you mean?”

“Now, you two.” Sal’s words reminded him of a chiding mother. “Let’s try to keep things nice.”

Wooden bowls made their way down the table. Abel took one and passed another to Sal. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He turned his attention back to Pip, now lying quietly under the table.

“Don’t let Jacob get to you.” She offered him a smile. “You know how he could get.”

Abel made no response. Instead, he looked to his right and watched the pot of porridge, salivating as it advanced slowly towards him. He turned back to Sal. “Are we okay to trade after this?”

Sal nodded. “Where are you going? You haven’t found somewhere permanent, have you?”

He sighed. “Nope. I’m not going back to the Grid if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not that. I just think you need to find a purpose, find a place to live that you can call your own.”

Slumping down in his seat, Abel stared at his hands. He’d scoured the wastes for somewhere suitable, but everywhere was either ruined or too exposed. “I thought I was getting there.”

Jacob cleared his throat. “Well, maybe if you spent your time actively searching for a home rather that gallivanting around with that—”

“Shut up, Jacob.” Abel narrowed his eyes.

Sal shook her head at Jacob and turned back to Abel. “You seem so close to going backwards.”

He stared at the dirt around his fingernails, examining the chips and cracks for several seconds before speaking. “I won’t let that happen.”

“We’ll see,” Jacob muttered.

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SAL WEAVED HER WAY between tables, lighting candles as she went. The piles of junk and clothing cast rippling shadows along the panelled walls when the candles took. Abel curled his lip at the sharp acidic stench pushing through the usual smells of damp and oil.

He set the boots onto a table, reached into his coat and retrieved the copy of Slaughterhouse-Five. He gazed for a long moment at the faded cover, its spine cracked and edges curled. “This is all I’ve got. I wanted to give it a read before trading, but needs must...”

Sal extinguishes the flaming torch and dropped it into a metal bucket in the corner. “I’ve not heard of this one.” She took the paperback and walked over to a table, opening the book near a candle.

Pip sniffed around a few crates and boxes, her mouth slopping as she sat with her tail wagging in front of a table piled with tins of food, bread loaves, and salt beef laid out on display.

“Lie down, girl.”

Pip made a thin whine, walked to a corner, turned three circled, and dropped down on her side with a sigh.

He turned to Sal and watched as she leaned over the book, pushing her dreadlocks aside, watching the play of light across her skin. She mouthed a few words under her breath, nodded to herself, and turned to Abel. “It seems...” She hesitated and made a circling motion with her right hand.

“What is it?”

“Well...it’s a bit odd.”

“It says it’s a classic.” He pointed to the cover.

Sal nodded. “I know a collector if these sorts of stories. What do you need?”

“A pack. A water bottle. Blankets. Clothes.” Abel sighed. “He took everything. He took my Moby Dick.”

Sal picked up the book again and read the back cover. She frowned and shook her head. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

“So, what do you say? The book and the boots. Is it a deal?”

The silence hung between them for several seconds before Sal shook her head. “I’m sorry. The best I can offer is either pack or a water bottle. I can’t do both. I’m sure I could throw in a few tins, some salt beef, perhaps.”

“Come on, Sal. Help me out here.”

Sal made an almost imperceptible nod and looked around. She dug around in a pile of coats, pulled out a child’s rucksack, and handed it to Abel. “This and a water bottle is the best we can do.”

He took the rucksack and studied the faded image of a grinning cartoon mouse. “What is this?”

Sal shrugged. “It’s a pack.”

“But it’s too small.”

“It will keep you going until you get something you could trade for a bigger one. I’m sure you could adjust the straps.”

“Fine. Better than nothing, I suppose. What about the bottle?”

She went to a table in the corner and leaned down to a crate on the floor. “Here we go.” She brushed dust from her knees with her free hand and held up a black bottle.

Taking it, he turned it in his hand, feeling the chips in the smooth enamel, candlelight catching the exposed metal beneath. The cap unscrewed with ease. “It needs a clean.” He sniffed inside, trying to make out the smell.

“You can fill it outside. Here.” She grabbed a couple of tins and dropped them in the rucksack. “This should keep you going.”

“Thanks, Sal.”

She looked over to Pip and smiled. “Here. Pip.” She whistled and held up a thin strip of salt beef. Pip raced over to her, skidding to a halt at Sal’s feet. She sat expectantly, her tail wagging as a string of thick drool dangled from her jowls.

Sal dropped the meat and Pip caught it in mid-air, swallowing it with frantic urgency.

“It’s a good dog you’ve got there.” Sal leaned down and rubbed Pip’s neck.

Abel nodded. “Yep.”

“Make sure you look out for her.”

“I will.” He took in a deep breath. “She’s all I’ve got.”

17. The Grid

THE AUTUMN SUN LOOMED bright through twisted brown clouds. Pip sniffed along the trail's right side as Trinity shrunk behind them. Abel shifted his shoulders, pulling at the rucksack’s straps in an effort to adjust them as the water bottle knocked against the small of his back. This was ridiculous. Why couldn’t Sal have just given him a bigger pack? But he knew the answer. They had a business to run, a community to keep. If they let every trader who passed through get unfair deals, they wouldn’t be able to sustain their community. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier though. A woman harvesting wheat in the field to his right offered a friendly wave, which he returned.

Reaching the highway, he stopped abruptly, his heart racing as three bedraggled kids ambled into view, pulling the Family’s campervan with pained groans. The same man and woman stood guard, both wary, sweeping the embankment to the south with their rifles.

Abel ducked behind a thorn bush and signalled for Pip. She padded over and sat next to him. He patted her side and held his breath. “Shh.” He wrapped an arm around her back. “Quiet now.”

Pip licked his hand.

A skinny teenage girl with matted long hair caught his eye as the van passed. He placed a finger on his lips and shook his head. Wide-eyed, the girl nodded.

“Eyes on the road,” the woman grunted from the other side of the van.

The girl faced forward.

Abel waited, watching as the van slowly rose towards the hills to the west and knew where they were going.

––––––––

A DITCH BRIMMING WITH raw sewage ran along the right side of the highway. Scattered junk and abandoned clothing lay along the road. Plumes of black smoke billowed into the sky ahead, obscuring the scab-like sunset with twists of undulating darkness. Approaching in a crouch, Abel zigzagged between dead pines and burnt-out cars. The campervan disappeared around a bend in the road, obscured by a rocky outcrop to the left.

“Keep close, girl.”

Pip brought her nose up from a jagged crack in the asphalt and looked back at him. She sat on her haunches when Abel approached and put an arm around her side. “We need to be careful.” He shook his head, trying to steel himself. “Can’t believe I’m doing this.”

He took a deep breath and coughed at the burnt plastic smell as the smoke caught in his throat. Turning his head to one side, he spat on the ground, the glob of phlegm quickly drawing in brownish-grey dust, giving the appearance of a ghostly eye. Pain burned his fingers when he flexed them. He got up and moved forward.

The Grid spread out before him. Men and women shambled between rows upon rows of ancient cars, their clothes and bodies ragged, torn, and misshapen. Fires burned in steel drums. He caught the eye of a teenager, her eye sockets purple and puffy from plez. He saw his old self in those eyes—the sadness, the desperation.

He stopped dead when plez’s chemical odour, faint on the wind, registered for a brief moment, and shuddered. Glancing behind him, he saw Pip waiting, not daring to come closer. He scanned across the roofs of cars until stopping at the north end, where the dealers plied their trade. Images of his old life filled his mind—the time he’d traded his boots for plez, the men and women he’d robbed on the roads, that first hit, that first moment of sheer bliss he had tried to recapture for so long...so long.

A bony man with ashen skin and purple-rimmed eyes staggered over to Abel, his mouth fixed in a strychnine smile, a garish caricature of a nightmare clown. “Abe? That you, bro?”

Abel froze, but could not remember the man’s name. “Yep.”

“You looked different.” The man stared at him for several seconds, his head drifting from side-to-side. “You clean?”

Abel nodded. Had they been friends? Had the years of plez destroyed his memories? “Yep.”

“Damn, bro.” The man scratched the back of his neck, picked at something, and tossed it to the ground.

“Anything new around here?” Abel’s gaze rested upon the van as it reached the dealers.

The man shook his head. “Same old, same old. You know how it is, bro. Family’s getting worse. Cooks ain’t what they used to be.”

“That might just be your body building up resistance.”

The man crouched and rested his elbows on his knees, his head bent forward. “How’d you get clean, bro?”

Abel went down on one knee next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It was hard. You’ve got to want to do it.”

“The Family always say you can’t get off it, bro. But you did. You actually managed. That’s great.”

“It’s still hard. It never really leaves you. I’ve got a life now. I’m doing alright.” He got up, the side of his mouth twitching into a half-smile. “You take care of yourself.”

The man looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Got any plez?”

Abel reached into his jacket pocket and let out a long sigh. “You haven’t seen a wizard around, have you? He has a cart, wears blue robes and a pointy hat.”

The man gave a confused look. “Maybe.”

“Did you see him?” He stood over the man, fists clenched.

“Don’t be going dark on me, bro.”

“Here.” He tossed the plez to the man. The crystal landed on the ground. The man dived for it, jumped to his feet, and ran between the cars and out of sight.

“Damn it.”

A fight broke out between a man and a woman a few cars over to his left. He stepped over a bloated corpse, half-rotten and stripped naked.

Tiny sparks burned iridescent from the inside of cars—the firing-up of plez. He tried his best not to curl his lip at the stench...at everything. How could have lived like these people? His mind craved plez every day, but this was no life for anyone. He’d take the loneliness over this.

Reaching the scorched husk of a pickup truck, he leaned against its twisted black frame and watched the dealers unloading the campervan in the dying light.

The enslaved kids carried crates to a heavily guarded truck, stumbling as dealers prodded them with rifles.

“What the hell do you want?”

Abel turned to be greeted by a dealer wearing patched leather and a rifle.

“Just looking to get a hit.” He raised his hands.

The dealer squinted and tilted his head. “You don’t look like a plez-head.” He raised his rifle. “You trying to move in? I saw you dealing.”

Abel opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Hand over your stash.”

“Don’t have any. I...I gave it away. It was an old friend.”

“Give me your stash.” The man’s eyes narrowed.

Abel spread his hands wide. “I got nothing. Honest.”

“Don’t move.” The dealer pulled Abel’s jacket open and rummaged through its pockets. “Open your bag.”

Abel crouched, sliding the rucksack off his shoulders. He unfastened the zip, took out the bottle and showed him the bag’s empty interior.

The dealer studied him for several seconds. “You want plez?”

Abel nodded.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

A throaty laugh erupted from the dealer. “You came here unarmed with nothing to trade. You give away your last plez, and then you expect me to believe you’re here to score?”

Abel bit down on his bottom lip, cursing himself for being so stupid.

“Wait here.”

The dealer swaggered away with the rifle slung over a shoulder. He approached the slavers, gesturing over to Abel. The dealers spoke for several seconds. The male and female slavers took up their rifles and made their way towards Abel.

He turned and ran.

Bullets fizzed past him, sending sparks flying from vehicles all around.

He ducked and weaved his head as he charged through the last of the cars. A few addicts tried to block him.

Pip ran at his side when he returned to the highway.

The slavers pursued him.

Spit thickened in his mouth as the cold air burned his lungs. His pace slowed to a jog when the highway sloped upwards towards the full moon. He tripped and stumbled over scattered car parts, tree roots, and cracked asphalt. A branch scratched across his face.

He stopped to catch his breath at the top of a hill, panting as a pulse thundered in his skull. Reaching into his rucksack, he retrieved the water bottle and took a swig. The water burned like frost as he swallowed.

With trembling fingers, he reached desperately for an apple hanging from the tree above. The apple sagged against his grip, spraying sour juice across his face and hands, burning his raw fingers with an acidic bite. He cursed, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Eyes adjusting to the night, he located another apple and tested it before twisting it from the branch. He backed up against the tree trunk and hid in the shadows. Taking a bite, he chewed and made a satisfied sigh, taking a moment to savour the crunch and sweetness, the rush of sugar, the sensation of something filling his stomach. He made another bite and looked back along the highway towards the Grid, the curls of smoke death-black against the night sky.

Pip was nowhere to be seen.

Though moving at a slower pace, the slavers continued their pursuit. When they picked up speed, Abel following the highway east as it wound towards the city. To the northeast, torches and bonfires of Trinity twinkled like constellations. Across the wastes, tiny sparks marking campfires and other settlements glowed bright against the night.

He jogged past wrecked cars and crumpled trucks as cables scratched against the asphalt, responding to the gusts of wind that rattled the branches of dead pines. His feet burned with each step.

He caught a glimpse of Pip, emerging from a hunt with something squirming in her mouth. Looking behind him, he saw the slavers reaching the hill's brow. They shouted something to him, taunting him, but he couldn’t make out the words over the wind. He started as a bullet tore through a car door to his right.

When he reached the trail leading to Trinity, he stopped for several seconds, staring towards the settlement. He called for Pip and waited until she emerged from a nearby bush.

Part of him wanted to get the settlement and hide. But, he couldn’t do that to Sal. He couldn’t bring the slavers to their gates and force them to fight. And, even if he made it to the fence, what’s to say anyone would open the fence in time?

“Not today.” He rubbed Pip’s head. “Let’s keep on.”

The shouts came again and Abel ran. One of them let off a shot, the bullet tickling past his ear.

“Damn it.” He pushed himself in fits and starts, the survival instinct clashing with fatigue. Each pained breath came sharp against his chest, tearing at his throat.

If he stopped, he knew he would die.

“Down here.” He dropped from the highway's edge and scrambled down an embankment, his feet slipping against loose soil and tumbling stones. Darkness pressed around him. His jacket snagged against a tree root. He could just make out Pip’s breath as she waited for him at the bottom.

Groping through the trees with his arms outstretched, he fumbled blindly in the dark, his hands barely protecting his face against low-hanging branches as he shouldered his way through the brush.

Exhausted, he hunched over, gripped his knees, and vomited. Chunks of half-digested apple burst from his mouth, bilious, acidic. He spat away the foul taste and looked around him, listening in the dark for footsteps, for movement, but all he heard were his own strained breaths.

He got to his knees and crawled along the ground, every motion a struggle as his muscles seized and burned. A sharp stone drove into the palm of his hand. Biting down, he suppresses the urge to scream as the agony swept through his body.

He curled into a ball.

Resigned, he crumbled.

18. The Shop

STIFF AND SORE, ABEL rolled onto his side and looked up at Pip. She hopped on her forelegs and licked his face. “Hey, girl.” He sat up and patted her on the ribs, wiping the drool from his face with a sleeve. She pushed her nose against his right cheek and hopped back a few steps, her tail wagging.

The trees around him huddled in a dense and tight cluster. He brushed soil from his face, shaking the numbness from his arms. Staggering to his feet, a dull pain throbbed along his thighs and neck. He took the water bottle from his rucksack and squinted as the first moments of sunlight shimmered across the eastern sky, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink. He wondered how long he had slept. The exhaustion had been too much.

He crept towards the highway, cringing as twigs snapped beneath his boots, wincing as a blister on the sole of his foot burst, warm and oozing. Dropping to a prone position, he crawled forward, elbows tucked in, as he dragged his way to the asphalt's edge. With a deep breath, he raised his head to see onto the highway, scanning for his pursuers, his head pounding with fear. He hoped above hope that they had returned to the Grid.

As the sun poked up from beyond the city, the sky turned from purple to red, its reflection glistening in the shattered window of a wrecked car. Abel forced himself to stand, pushing against the cramp and hunger.

The road lay empty and still. A torn plastic bag flapped against the rusting remains of the central barrier. If he could just find food, anything to calm his gurgling stomach, anything to fill the emptiness.

With the highway on his left, he headed towards the city. Car wrecks made way for dead pines and vast swathes of cratered earth. Dust gathered like snowdrifts against building foundations, their brickwork rendered smooth by the elements. A lazy dust cloud eddied by.

At points, the highway disappeared beneath a carpet of vegetation, as vines and bramble bushes twisted across the asphalt.

He gathered blackberries, blowing dust away before tossing them into his mouth. He shivered at the rush of sugar and bitterness.

As he looked around for Pip, he stopped as two figures emerged from the west. His mouth grew dry as cold sweat flooded across his back. The man and woman from the Family drew near.

He turned and tried to run, his legs seizing as the muscles in his thighs and lower back spasmed, his steps shambling, desperate. He gritted his teeth, pushing against his body's protests. There was nowhere to hide.

A gunshot echoed from behind him as a rush of adrenaline surged through his body. He raced onto the asphalt and ran at full-speed, his agonised breaths clawing at his throat and lungs. He cried out, roaring through the pain as he zigzagged between the frames of cars and trucks, desperate to find cover.

Taking a right turn, he limped off the highway and onto a familiar road. If he could make it to the old town, he might be able to find somewhere to hide among the ruins. He looked over his shoulder to see his pursuers still gaining. “Damn it.”

Cramp seized his left thigh. He beat the muscles with the side of his fist, trying to tenderise them like a tough piece of meat.

Sagging cars and shattered glass lay strewn along the road. Buildings rose from the soil—a twisted steel-framed structure and a three-storey brick building passing by in a blur.

He groaned as his left foot dragged behind him, the slavers closing in. The squat building where he and the wizard found the quad bike stood ahead.

A bullet ricocheted off the ground, grazing his right leg, the bullet white hot as it skimmed along his flesh.

“Don’t move,” a man’s voice growled behind him.

Abel froze.

“Hands on your head. Turn slowly.”

He obeyed and turned to face the slavers, raising his chin. “Just get it over with.”

The woman let out a sharp laugh and dropped the aim of her rifle. Holding it at her side, she approached Abel and grabbed his face, digging a finger and thumb into his cheeks before spitting in his eye. “We’re not wasting any more ammo on you.” She released her grip, turning to the man. “We’re going to have some fun with this one.”

He tried to blink away the spittle hanging over his right eye.

A crooked smile crept across the man’s face. “Who are you?”

“No one.” Abel shrugged.

“Why you sniffing around our business?”

Abel shook his head and wiped his eye with a forearm. “I don’t care about your damn business.”

“Keep your hands on your head.” The man took aim with his rifle, pointing it at Abel’s face. “Where’s your partner?”

“She’s probably off hunting. I’ve not seen her for a few hours.”

The man and woman shared a confused look.

“There’s a woman as well?”

Abel frowned. “What? No. I’m on about my dog.”

“Do not play games with us.” The woman kneed him in the gut and laughed as he fell to the ground.

“You mean the wizard?” Abel spluttered, gripping his arms around his stomach.

“The black guy with the blue robes. Where is he?”

Abel managed to look up. “I don’t know what happened to him. He left after one of you guys shot him. He took my stuff.”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused us?” The woman glared at him.

“I just wanted to free those kids.”

Disgust flickered across her face. She spat on Abel’s face again and followed it up with a kick to his right shoulder. “Those kids were already dead. Pathetic, worthless scum.” She shook her head. “Worthless addicts.”

Abel bit his lip to stop himself from crying out with the pain. “They’re still people, damn it.”

“I don’t have to listen to this crap.” The woman raised a boot and slammed it down on the top of Abel’s head.

This time, he cried out with a guttural scream. He curled into a ball, protecting his head with his arms clasped tight.

The kicks came sharp and fast, pummelling his back and sides, his body contorting and twisting with each strike. He wished they would just pull the trigger.

A gunshot cracked.

The kicking stopped.

A second gunshot.

A dull thud on the ground.

Breathless, with blood oozing from his mouth and a gash on his forehead, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, eyes widening as he looked around. The man lay to his left in a pool of blood, a large hole gaping in his forehead like a great yawning mouth. The woman lay a few feet away, twisted and twitching as she faintly clucked out her dying breaths.

“What the hell?” He stared between the man and the woman, confused, unable to move. Realising what was happening, he bolted towards the lawnmower shop on his hands and knees, groaning. He reached the shutters and leaned against them, eyes fixed on the bodies as his wounds throbbed.

Motionless, save for the trembling, he leaned his head back against the steel, closed his eyes, and waited for the final bullet.

The sun warmed his body. He wished he could see Pip one last time.

He stirred at the sound of light footsteps. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

A skinny girl, no older than ten, wearing tattered clothes and gripping a rifle, approached the bodies.

They locked eyes with each other, and Abel reached into his jacket for his pistol.

The girl shook her head and he stopped. She studied him for a moment and turned her attention to the bodies without speaking, her shaggy blonde hair knotted and slick with grease. Taking the slavers’ rifles, she emptied their pockets of ammunition and heaved the woman’s backpack over her shoulders. She went as if to walk away and stopped. Hesitating, she turned back to the woman’s body and took the leather jacket.

Abel watched, helpless and wide-eyed. “Thank you.”

The girl did not respond as she left, disappearing into the ruins.

“Wait.”

But she was gone.

19. The Tin

ABEL STAGGERED FORWARD, scanning the trees and bushes for food. The city's deathly stench caught the wind, forcing him to gag, dry heaves bringing up nothing. Hunger tore at his stomach.

Catching his breath, he leaned against the side of a car, his spit flavoured with bile. He pushed the filth out of his mouth, spluttering as it dropped to the ground, stringy and thick. With a sigh, he tried the car doors, all jammed shut. He climbed through the rear window and rolled clumsily onto the back seat, exposed springs jabbing into his flesh. He looked around, licking the dryness of his cracked lips, but found nothing of use. He checked under the front seats, searching the foot wells and forcing open the glovebox.

“Damn it.” He smacked the dashboard. Darkness clouded his thoughts. Why did he give that plez away? Plez was the answer. It could take away the hunger, take away everything.

He climbed through the open windscreen and slid down the car's front. A jolt of pain struck his feet when his boots hit the ground. He winced and cursed.

“Here, girl.” He tried to whistle. “Pip?”

He called out again.

The wind stung his hands and burned his cheeks as junk cartwheeled past him. He searched through more cars and climbed into the back of a dilapidated truck, its suspension groaning in protest when he searched the empty trailer and cabin.

The trees stood in rot. Gaunt branches clattered with each gust of wind. He pulled up his collar and hunched against the chill. Clammy sweat coated his body. His teeth chattered.

In the setting sun's dim light, he saw a shack through the trees—a tumbledown building constructed from wood and car parts, squat in a clearing, surrounded by dead pines and barren soil. Trembling, he gripped his hunting knife and approached.

“Hello.” He reached for the door and opening it.

Silence.

Waving a hand to clear the air, he reached for his torch and stepped inside. A rotten mattress rested next to a pile of animal bones. In the left corner, a pile of dust-coated mobile phones leaned against the wall. He spotted a shelf to the door's right. On it stood a can of food.

Taking the tin, he felt the rust around its rim and frowned. The tins he traded at Trinity were usually clean and free from rust. He went outside and gathered wood for a fire. The first drops of rain pattered along the ground forming tiny blast craters in the soil. The rain dripped in brown streaks along his hands, irritating his flesh.

He returned to the shack for shelter, calling out for Pip before closing the door behind him.

When he pierced the tin with his hunting knife, he sniffed its contents and recoiled at the stench of fermented rot. He lobbed the tin outside and crawled onto the mattress.

Tears welled in his eyes, and he sobbed uncontrollably, his body shuddering with the pain of hunger as the cold pressed against him and water leaked through the roof. He lay awake through the night until the storm broke, his clothes soaked with the chemical rain.

He feared for Pip, feared for himself. Desperation tugged at every thought.

Taking his pistol from his jacket, he stared down at the barrel, its lines blurred by tears. He ejected the bullet from the cylinder and blew on it, wiping away the dust before replacing it.

However bad things got, he always had a way out.

––––––––

WHEN THE FIRST DOTS of sunlight revealed themselves like stars through the holes in the walls and roof, Abel sighed and forced himself to stand. His ears pricked at a scratching from the other side of the door, accompanied by a high-pitched whine.

Smiling, he darted to the door and flung it open to be greeted by Pip, a plump rat locked between her teeth. She dropped the rodent at his feet and hopped back with her tail wagging.

He crouched on one knee and embraced her, stroking her head and patting her sides. “Good work, Pip.” His eyes filled up with tears. “Good work.”

Within an hour, the campfire raged near the shack. Pip slept next to him, her tail batting against the ground in a slow, insistent rhythm. He took the rat off the fire and bit into its cooked flesh, enjoying the sensation of warmth and food in his mouth, the taste of fat running down his throat.

––––––––

ABEL REACHED THE ENTRANCE to the cave by early afternoon. The ravine glistened with streaks of orange and yellow light as the river wound into the distance below.

Pip bounded on ahead into the darkness.

He gazed along the yawning cave entrance before stepping inside. The air got colder and fresher as he walked along the smooth stone, pawing at the wall to his right as a fungal glow penetrated the blackness.

He smiled at the running water. Reaching the stream's edge, he took off his jacket and boots, removing the rest of his clothes until naked and shivering. He started at the icy bite against his feet, shuddering as he dropped to his knees and splashed the water against his body, washing away the ground-in filth, the layers of sweat and grime, and squeezed pus from the blisters on his feet.

Pip sat and watched him.

Using a T-shirt to dry himself, he sat on a rock and listened to the water until he dried. He pulled on his trousers, T-shirts, and sweaters, and stuffed the wet T-shirt into his rucksack. He took out his water bottle and filled it in the stream. “Let’s go, girl.”

20. The Garage

THE GLARING SUN SHIMMERED phosphorescent along the shoreline, less than a mile away to the east. Abel walked north, heading back towards the highway.

Pip trotted at his side, looking up at him as her tongue flapped from the side of her mouth. She pushed her nose against his jacket pocket.

He groped inside and took out the rubber ball.

With a raised hand, he gestured for Pip to sit.

She squatted, bouncing excitedly on her back legs.

He squeezed the ball with weak fingers and threw it along the road.

Pip gave chase and pounced on the ball in a matter of seconds. Returning, she dropped it into his open hand, its surface coated with slimy drool. She sat and waited, panting.

He threw the ball again, this time farther.

Pip’s claws scraped on the ground as she scrambled for purchase before bolting off. She returned and stopped, her ears twitching.

He took the ball and pocketed it, looking along the road and through the trees.

Pip’s tail shot up and she let out a low growl as dog barks came from the west.

Abel squinted to see them, the sun's glare obscuring his vision. He gripped the handle of his hunting knife, readying himself. “Hide!”

Pip looked up at him for a second and stared back ahead, focused on the shadowy trees.

A pair of muscular dogs burst through bushes to his left. He pivoted, stabbing the first dog’s neck.

Pip lunged forward and locked her jaws around the throat of a white dog with wild pink eyes. The dogs tumbled around, snapping and snarling at each other.

Abel stepped in and pulled them apart, thrusting his blade into the white dog. The dog staggered backwards, shook its head, and dropped to its side, dead.

Sweating, Abel wiped his brow with a sleeve, walked over to a sycamore tree, took down a leaf, and wiped the blood from his blade. He crouched next to the nearest dog, bringing his blade down to butcher it. He stopped, watching as Pip limped over, and got to his feet. “Good girl.” He stroked her and patted her on the side. She yelped and recoiled. “Shh, hey, hey, what is it?”

She approached him gingerly and licked his hand. A chunk of flesh hung torn from the top of her left rear-leg.

“Damn it.” He looked around, frowning. “You’ll be okay.”

Removing his rucksack, he took out the damp T-shirt and tore it into strips. “Come here, girl.” He reached between Pip’s legs and tied the material around the wound. She sniffed at it and pulled at it with her teeth. “No, no. Leave that.”

She stared at him for a long moment and then looked along the road.

“Let’s go.”

––––––––

PIP LIMPED BEHIND AS Abel forced his way through the trees, their branches snapping back behind him, sending clouds of dust into the air. He scanned the ground for food, for signs of movement, for anything that might be a threat. Pip stayed close, occasionally yelping when she caught her back leg on something. He could tell she was struggling.

The trees became taller and more closely packed. A shroud of dense branches blocked out the sun, darkening the area with hostile shadows. He kicked aside limbs and vines, untangling his boots every few metres.

Pip padded off to the right and looked back at him. He followed as she limped on ahead, ducking beneath low branches and zigzagging by tree trunks. He stopped to see Pip sniffing around the edge of a building. Yellowing paint and green moss coated its brick walls.

He crept around the sides and listened. He went around the back and to the other side. A glass window remained intact in its frame, the glazing cracked and coated in dust and grime. He wiped away some of the dirt with his sleeve. Cupping his hands around his eyes, he looked into the gloom. Light seeped in from a hole in the roof.

He went around to the front of the garage. Pip sniffed along the bottom of the steel shutters.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?” He didn’t think there was, but he waited, just in case. “Shall we take a look, girl?”

Reaching down, he slid his fingers into the gap below the shutters and heaved them up. He flinched at the metallic screech as they raised, his hands instinctively sliding into his jacket to grip his hunting knife and pistol.

When the dust cleared, he smiled.

A shopping trolley stood along the right-hand wall, stuffed with blankets and junk. Charred wood and ashes from a long-dead fire lay in the far right corner, spotlighted by the hole in the roof. A blue and white rowing boat, resting on a steel-framed trailer, filled the rest of the space. The space hadn’t been lived in for a while and he wondered where its owner was

He scratched the back of his neck and shook his head. Had he found a home? “Good work, girl.”

Stepping over to the trailer, he picked up a harness made from ropes, rolled-up material, and nylon webbing. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a large leather rucksack resting in the far corner.

He picked up the trailer's front and pulled against its locked wheels. He pushed a lever, loosening the brake, and wheeled the trailer outside, its rubber tyres bouncing as it dropped from the mottled concrete floor to the bare ground. He looked at the boat, the oars attached by pivots. Human bones lay scattered in the hull. Turning away, he covered his mouth and held his eyes closed. He hoped this answered the question about the previous resident.

Stepping back inside the garage, he went over to the trolley and pulled out musty blankets, cloths, and plastic sheets. He shifted a dozen tins of food and a box of matches aside, and smiled at a pile of books. Taking in a deep breath, he glanced outside and all around him, taking in the space and smiling. This was what he’d been searching for—not too far from the highway, well-hidden, and small enough to keep warm. He took the books from the trolley and scanned their covers. He squinted at a book about birds and one about medieval history. Other books had faded titles, ruined by damp.

He replaced the books, sheets, and blankets and took out a tin. Stepping outside, he checked the lid's rim for rust. Satisfied, he pierced it with his hunting knife and worked the blade around the lid until it flipped open. He sniffed inside. Beans again. Always beans.

“Here, girl.” He tipped them onto the ground. Pip slunk over and ate them slowly.

Abel took out another tin and opened it—more beans. He ate them cold, his stomach too empty for him to wait for a fire, too empty for him to care.

He wiped tomato sauce from his beard when he finished and looked around. Through the trees, he could just make out the highway, less than a hundred metres away. To the east, the city's filthy waters shimmered black against the sun.

“You want to stay here, girl?” Pip looked up from her last few beans.

He went over to the trolley and dragged out a blanket, placing it in the corner next to the backpack. He patted his thigh.

With weak steps and head hung low, Pip made her way to the blanket and lay down. He untied the makeshift bandage wrapped around the back of her leg, picking away the dried bits of blood and pus. She yelped and licked the wound, her tongue passing over it in gentle, methodical sweeps.

He heaved the backpack outside and adjusted its straps to fit his thinning shoulders. Had he ever been this thin? Even on plez, he carried some weight. He emptied the child's rucksack, transferring the water bottle to the new pack. He lifted the backpack into the boat, avoiding touching the bones. Hesitating, he looked back towards Pip.

He took the water bottle out and wandered over to the trolley. Reaching inside, he felt around until his hand gripped a bowl. He placed it next to Pip’s bed and filled it with the last of the water. Crouching, he stroked her head. “You get some rest, girl. I'll be back real soon, I promise.”

He took a strip of red cloth from the trolley and headed back outside, pulling the shutters down behind him, leaving enough room for Pip to get out. With aching fingers, he fastened the trailer's harness around his shoulders and trudged north through a gap in the trees, towing the boat behind him, until he reached the highway.

Glancing back, he could hardly make out the garage.

The highway stood quiet and still, no signs of the Family. Freeing himself from the harness, he climbed a nearby tree, its trunk grey and dead. He clambered up until he reached the lowest limb and tied the material around it.

Climbing down, he picked up the harness again. The boat bounced as he dragged it onto the highway. The bones and oars rattled around inside.

Taking a moment, he looked back at the skull resting on its side. He brought the trailer to a halt and slid his arms from the harness. With a sigh, he wheeled the trailer to the side of the road and started to dig the soil with his bare hands. Whoever this person was, they deserved a burial. That was the least he could do.

After several minutes, he took the bones from the boat and laid them out in the shallow pit. He stared down at the grave in silence for a long time before speaking. He wasn’t sure why he had to say something, but somehow it felt like the right thing to do. “I don't know who you were or what kind of life you lived, but thank you.”

He covered the bones with the soil until the pit filled. He bit his bottom lip and blinked away a tear. Why was he getting upset about someone he had never met? He dragged a sleeve across his eyes, brushed the dirt from his hands and took up the harness again. He pulled the trailer onto the highway and marched towards the city.

21. The City

THE BOAT BUMPED BEHIND him, its oars clattering against the hull whenever the trailer rode over a piece of debris or slammed into a pothole.

Within an hour, Abel reached the floodwaters. He covered his nose with his arm. He could taste the stench. Resisting the urge to gag, to vomit, he made his way along the water's edge towards a blast crater. He heaved the trailer inside, locked the brakes, and dragged the boat to the dirt.

He shifted the boat to the shore, leaving a trail in the ash, and stared across the water as it sloshed with slow undulations against the dead soil. To the north, lines of thick black smoke curled up from somewhere within the city. Unsure of whether the boat would even float, he wondered what the hell he was doing.

Pointing the boat eastwards, he pushed it into the water and climbed in as it headed towards the distant buildings. He sat on the plank seat, frowning when he realised the oars were in the wrong place. Confused, he reached back with clumsy hands, but couldn’t manipulate the oars in a useful way. What was he thinking? He’d never so much as been on a boat before, let alone tried to control one.

Turning to face the boat's rear, he examined the oars more closely. Taking each oar in his hands, he felt their weight, testing their circular motion. It seemed right, but it seemed he was facing the wrong direction. He leaned back and pulled them through the water, the right oar skipping across the surface, tipping the boat as he lost his balance. “Damn it.” He leaned away from the water. One mouthful of that foulness would probably make him ill for days—that’s if he survived.

With a grunt, he righted the boat and tried again. He could tell how the oars were supposed to work. It was just a case of getting the right action. Perhaps facing the wrong way made it easier to row. There was so much lost knowledge. It was hard to know for sure. His arms worked in unison, the oars slicing through the water and propelling him towards the ruins.

Floating junk, plastic and wood scratched against the boat's side. He craned his neck to see behind him, struggling to keep the boat straight.

Within ten minutes, the first buildings rose from the water like hands from the grave, their brickwork coated in slime and stained with blackness.

Around him, more buildings emerged—mostly shells with missing walls and sagging frames. He brought his boat to rest next to a building that would have once been white, now barnacled with filth, its stonework peppered with arches and flourishes, many of its windows still glazed.

He took a rope from the front of the boat and tethered it to a drainpipe. Once secure, he lifted his backpack onto a window ledge and heaved himself up inside. Again, he wondered what the hell he was doing.

Everything smelled of damp and decay. A rectangular oak table dominated the room, the blood-red carpet stained with mould. The building creaked and clicked and groaned. He looked back at the window as moth-eaten curtains rippled against a gust of wind. A couple of chairs lay on their sides. In the far right corner, a battered sofa stood flush against the wall, its brown leather cushions warped from the weight of decay.

He stared at a series of faded photographs along the left-hand wall showing rows of people—faces from before, all smiles and bright eyes, all dead. Taking the picture down, he crouched with his back against the wall. He wiped the dust from the glass and looked at each face in turn. How did these people live? They all looked so clean and healthy.

Getting up, he placed the picture back on the hook and walked around the table, reaching for the door. He tried the handle and the door squeaked open. He listened and took out his torch, winding the handle until its light filled the corridor.

A flight of stairs descended to his left. Leaning over the banister, he saw the floodwaters lapping against the walls below. He carried on along the corridor and took the next door to the right.

The room was smaller than the first. A desk and chair stood immediately to his left. A bookcase obscured the wall to his right.

He approached the desk and dropped a pair of pencils into his backpack. He went around to the chair and pushed it aside. He tried each drawer in turn but found nothing of value. Sighing, he walked over to the bookcase and examined the titles—books on management, branding, and marketing—all useless.

Returning to the corridor, he took the next door to the right and found the room a mirror image of the previous one—desk to the right, bookcase to the left.

He examined the books first. Most of the shelves stood empty. A few loose sheets of paper lay here and there, yellowed and damp. He examined a telephone and yanked out the pigtail cord, dropping it into his backpack. He opened the top drawer and saw a packet of cigarettes, still sealed in cellophane, and pocketed it in his jacket. That was a good find. The other drawers lay empty.

Returning to the first room, he climbed down from the window and into the boat. Reaching into his jacket, he took out a wax crayon and made a blue cross on the window ledge. He could find many things to trade out here, but there was no point wasting time exploring buildings he had already visited. It may have stunk worse than death, but the potential for future trade was too great to leave. He unfastened the tether and pushed out onto the water.

He moved deeper into the city as buildings loomed around him, some of the structures evident only by the tips of their rooftops poking through the water’s surface. Others towered above in flat planes of concrete, their windows uniform square.

He brought the boat to a halt next to another ornate building. Gargoyles leered down from the rooftop, monstrous figures keeping watch over the dead city. He tethered the boat to a flagpole jutting at an angle from the wall. Without hesitating, he tossed his backpack through the window above and pulled himself inside.

Eyes adjusting, he started at the sight of a stuffed bear, eight-feet tall with black fur, bared teeth, and raised claws. A hodgepodge of taxidermy animals and specimen cases cluttered the room. A green shaded lamp rested on its side, its bulb shattered across a mahogany desk. A stuffed tiger stood frozen, mid-prowl. A barn owl sat perched on a shelf above, its creamy face framed by a light-brown heart. He’d seen animals on the wastes before, but never like this. They made the feral dogs seem like Pip. He stepped over a fallen chair and took the owl from the shelf. He looked into its dead eyes and carried it over to the window.

Books about animals lined a series of shelves along the left-hand wall. He took down a book identifying hundreds of insects and scanned along the shelves for other useful titles. Trinity would give him good trade for old stories, or books containing useful knowledge from before. Retrieving other books, he flicked through their pages, but found them too technical for him to trade. It was always a delicate balance. It wasn’t worth traipsing all the way to Trinity with books no one wanted.

He went over to the desk and righted the lamp. He opened a drawer and looked inside. He dropped a pair of eyeglasses and some pencils into his backpack. In the drawer to the right, he found a scalpel and a magnifying glass. He took them and moved back to the window. He opened the book about insects, slid the scalpel inside, and dropped it into his backpack. If Trinity didn’t want it for trade, it was the type of book he’d seen in their library. He climbed outside and back onto the boat, taking the owl and placing it beneath the seat.

Unfastening the boat from the flagpole, he pushed away from the wall with his feet. He turned the boat around and headed back towards the shore. It would all be there when he returned.

The city shrunk away from him as he rowed, his back and arms aching with the strained. He looked to his left across the water, the smoke still rising from the buildings to the north.

––––––––

THE SUN HUNG LOW BEHIND him when Abel dragged the boat ashore. He dragged it along for a few hundred metres until he found the crater. His stomach groaned with hunger as he heaved the boat onto the steel frame, securing it in place before taking up the harness.

He moved along the highway, straining as he pulled the boat behind him, the road sloping upwards ahead. Thoughts of plez quickly shifted to him picturing the kids towing the campervan. When he’d lived at the Grid, he’d seen the slaves, but he was so focused on getting his next fixed that he never took time to consider their plight. Addiction was bad enough, but that was something else.

After a while, he spotted the red material hanging limp from the branch of a dead pine. He made a left and staggered through the trees, his legs sore and shoulders stiff.

It was quiet when he reached the garage. The sunset hid behind the trees to the west. When he raised the shutters, Pip jumped to her feet and shook, padding to him with sleepy eyes and yawning. He slid from the harness and stroked her. She stretched and yelped at the pain in her back leg. “How you doing, girl? You been asleep?”

He wheeled the boat into the garage and stepped outside to gather wood. Pip followed him, keeping close to his side. When he collected enough branches, he returned to the garage and set out a fire beneath the hole in the roof.

He took a tin from the trolley and opened it with his knife. Chunks of pineapple floated in syrup. He scooped some out and offered them to Pip. She sniffed them for a few seconds and ate from his hand. He smiled at the taste, savouring the sweetness on his tongue as he chewed.

When he finished the fruit, he drank the syrup and burped, grinning. This was a rare treat.

Pip didn’t stir from her sleep when Abel closed the garage for the night. The flames cast dancing shadows along the walls as he crawled in to his bedroll. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time, smiling as he drifted off to sleep.

22. Moonshine

ABEL REACHED TOWN BY late afternoon the next day. Pip panted heavily when they caught sight of Second Bob sitting crossed-legged on the ground, poking a maggot-ridden squirrel with a stick. “Hey, mister. You shouldn't be here with no dog.”

“I was here before, with the wizard. Don’t you remember?”

Second Bob jumped to his feet and studied Abel with wild eyes, tilting his head with frantic jerks. “You with the wizard that time?”

“That's right. I’ve got something Big Ned I think will like.” Abel gestured to the stuffed owl cradled under his left arm.

Second Bob frowned. “It dead, mister.”

Abel rubbed the back of his neck and looked past Second Bob at the other residents moving cautiously towards him.

“That one big bird you got there,” a voice said from the crowd.

“That's right. It's an owl.” His free hand twitched near his pistol. Last time he’d been here was with the wizard. How much could he really trust these people? And where were the women?

The residents looked around with confused expressions, whispering to each other.

“I brought it here for Big Ned. Is he here?” He tried not to recoil at the identical faces, the misshapen ears and split lips.

“Where your wizard friend, mister?” Second Bob asked.

“I've not seen him. Has he been by?”

“Pa!” Second Bob called out, looking back over his shoulder. “Pa! The dog man back. He got a critter.”

The residents turned in unison as Big Ned emerged from his shack, pushing aside a sheet of flapping blue polythene. “Why you back?” Spit flew from his mouth.

Abel looked down at the bird, feeling his confidence evaporating. “I've brought you an owl. I was hoping we could trade.”

Big Ned squinted and stared at the taxidermy. “I don't know about no owl.” He cleared his throat and grunted. “I like your critter. We trade?”

Abel looked between the owl and Big Ned and smiled. “Sounds good.”

“Pa, the dog man was asking about that wizard. We seen him?”

Big Ned eyed him up and down. “Yeah, I seen the wizard.”

“Oh, right.” Abel rubbed the back of his neck, “What did he say?”

“He say about pond critter. You was there. You help him.”

Abel frowned. “So, you've not seen him since?”

Big Ned shook his head and looked down at his filth-encrusted hands. “He do real magic.”

“Yep.”

“I know he got Mister Fluffy to live. He got magic. He got our boys back.”

Abel smiled and looked around at the faces. “The kids from the Family?”

Big Ned nodded. “Our boys. They say Mister Fluffy save them.”

“Yep. That's right. I was there.” His smiled dropped. “We didn't manage to save all of them though.”

“You save ours.”

“I just wish we could have done more.”

Big Ned slapped him hard on the shoulder. “You get our boys. We give you hootenanny.”

“A hooter-what?” Cheers and whoops drowned out his words.

Big Ned looked around, raising his fists. “What you standing round for? Go get some eats and go get beats.”

––––––––

ABEL SALIVATED AT THE cooking meat aromas. He sat cross-legged on a blanket, nodding his head to the syncopated rhythms a group of young men beat on plastic drums and steel pots. The other residents danced and twirled in time with the music as a pair of young men took turns blowing into animal bladders and lengths of rubber hose. The instrument let out a rasping, rumbling drone.

Pip lay next to Abel, watching the drummers with curiosity as she gnawed on a bone.

Big Ned stood before Abel and dropped a steel bucket onto the ground. “These your eats.”

Abel leaned forward and looked into the bucket. He took out the leg of a small mammal, perhaps belonging to a squirrel or mole, and raised it cheerily towards Big Ned. “Thanks.”

He bit into the meat and smiled as the hot fat coursed down his chin. Big Ned went away and returned a few minutes later with a plastic petrol can.

“What's in there?” Abel raised his voice so he could be heard over the rhythm.

“Moonshine.” Big Ned's eyes grew wide with excitement. He threw back his head and let out a snorting laugh. “This make you tough, like we.” He took a swig and handed it to Abel.

The alcohol smelled volatile. He looked at Big Ned, who nodded encouragement, and took a sip. It stripped his throat as he swallowed. “That’s strong.”

Big Ned slapped him on the shoulder and let out another laugh.

They passed the can back and forth until they emptied its contents.

Abel staggered to his feet and wobbled drunkenly towards the drummers. The other residents danced around him, their faces swirling and blurring against the alcohol haze.

When the drumming stopped for the musicians to change places, he shuffled back to his blanket and flopped down next to Big Ned. “This is so great,” he said, slurring his words. He leaned to his right and rested his head on Ned's shoulder. “You don't have to answer this if you don't want. I understand if you don't answer it.” He let out a burp. “Sorry if I’m rambling. Not used to drink.”

“If you got to get asks, get asks.”

Abel lifted his head and rested his weight on one hand, leaning back as he stretched out his legs, his elbows spiking into the ground. “Just think. I just...” He took a deep breath, focusing on Ned's face. “I just think...” He gestured with his right hand, searching for the words. “Where are your women?” The other residents stopped and everything went silent.

They stared at him.

He stiffened. “Not wanting to offend.”

Big Ned got to his feet and stood over him. “Why you care about our women?”

Abel stared up at him and wished he were sober. How could he run away like this? How could he articulate his thoughts in a way that wouldn’t get him killed? “You think it was bad, right? It was bad when the kids were taken, when the Family had them.”

“Yeah. That bad.” Big Ned folded his arms. “So?”

“It was bad because they trapped them, because they...because they weren't allowed to do what they wanted. They kept them inside that van. They weren't allowed out.”

Big Ned's eyes narrowed. “What you ask?”

“I just think your life and the women's lives will be better if you didn't stop them doing things.” Abel swallowed, bracing himself for the assault.

Second Bob moved next to Big Ned and glared down at Abel. “Pa, we can't have outsider tell about our women.”

Big Ned shook his head. He took Abel's hand and yanked him to his feet. “You got nerve, but you right.”

“But, Pa.”

Big Ned raised a hand. “Get the women. They same as we now.” He looked around at the other residents, their gaping mouths snapping shut when Big Ned met them with a glare. “Anyone got problem?”

The residents shook their heads and exchanged glances.

Second Bob returned with a dozen or so women in tow. The women looked identical, except their skin rippled in ghostly white.

“Why you drum stop? Get this hootenanny back.”

After dancing into the night and through the early hours, Abel fell asleep on the ground, curled up next to Pip on a blanket, embers dying at his feet.

––––––––

“YOU WANT EATS?” A VOICE asked through a haze.

Abel opened his eyes and cringed at the thumping in his head. When his vision came into focus, he saw Second Bob leaning over him. He shook his head. “Sorry, what?”

“You want eats, mister?”

With a groan, Abel pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around. A dead fire rested at his feet and a cluster of plastic drums lay haphazardly on their sides. “I could eat.”

Pip licked the wound on the back of her leg as he stroked her ears. She looked at him for a second and licked his hand before turning back to her leg.

A few women wandered between the shacks, glancing surreptitiously at Abel and whispering to each other. He offered them a smile. They giggled and scurried away.

Big Ned strode over to him and dropped a bucket on the ground between them. “We share.” He took a half-cooked rat out and tore away the fur.

“Thanks.” He reached for a charred chunk of meat.

“You green today.”

Abel groaned. “I'm not used to moonshine.”

Big Ned gestured past him. “You right about women. Good hootenanny.”

Abel nodded, chewing. “I really needed last night. It was good to see I hadn’t completely failed.”

“Where the takers at?”

Abel shrugged and picked a piece of meat from his back teeth. “The Family? They'll keep doing what they always do, I suppose.”

Big Ned nodded. “They got to get got.”

“If I can avoid having anything else to do with them, that’ll be fine by me.”

“You do good. But they still do bad.”

Abel gave a half-smile and reached for more meat. “Yep.”

Big Ned turned to him and raised his chin. “You got to get them. They got to get got.”

––––––––

IT WAS STILL EARLY morning when Abel left Town. He hugged Big Ned, the slaps to his back almost winding him. “I want you to have this.” He offered him the owl.

Big Ned took it and cradled it in his arms like a newborn baby. “I call you Mister Feathers.” He looked around. “Second Bob, where you at, boy?”

Second Bob ran over.

Big Ned turned to him and whispered something in his ear.

Second Bob looked at Abel, nodded, and ran back to his shack, stumbling over scattered junk. He emerged a short time later carrying a sheet of folded blue polythene. In a sombre, respectful gesture, he took the owl from Big Ned and placed it on the ground at their feet. He handed the sheet to Big Ned.

Big Ned turned to Abel. “You have this. You always welcome.”

Abel took the sheet and held it under his arm. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and looked down at his feet. “I don't know what to say.” He smiled at Big Ned. “Thank you.”

23. The Cart

PIP LIMPED ALONGSIDE Abel as they headed west along the highway, the last flickers of sunlight staining the sky in pools of purple and orange. Gusts of wind blew from the east, sending dust clouds across the wastes. “Come on, girl. We need to find some shelter.”

Cursing and coughing, he took the next left off the highway, his eyes squeezed narrow as he raised an arm to cover his face.

Pip whined as her back legs quivered.

Abel made out the burnt remains of a cart lying on its side at the road’s edge. Approaching it, he crawled on his knees, trying to keep the dust away from his eyes. Leaning against the cart, he took the polythene sheet from his backpack and used it as a shelter.

Pip leaned close to him, shivering and crying as she rested her chin on his thigh. The sheet flapped and rippled as the storm beat against them. He stroked Pip and whispered words of comfort. Thoughts of plez flooded his mind.

––––––––

ABEL WOKE UP AT DAWN, his body stiff and filthy. He lifted the polythene sheet, shaking away brownish-grey dust. The dust covered everything, coating the trees and the ground like ash.

Pip opened her eyes and slowly got to her feet. She stretched and yawned.

Folding the sheet, he stuffed it into his backpack, and stopped. Swirls of peeling gold and blue paint emerged like islands along the cart’s scorched wood. He recognised some of the junk scattered on the ground—his pans, a smashed television set, a broken fish tank, and a toy car resting on its side, half-submerged in the dirt.

Crouching, he picked up the remains of his copy of Moby Dick, its cover scorched around its edges, the last third torn away along the spine. He stared at the image of the white whale, half-blackened by flame. An explosion of dust billowed into the air when the book hit the ground.

Gritting his teeth, he looked around. He took the pans and dropped them into his backpack.

Pip sniffed at one of the cart's wheels.

He walked around the back and forced one of the doors open, turning his head away from the stench and the buzz of swarming flies. He took out his torch and turned the handle. As it started to glow, he saw a dead rabbit crawling with flies and maggots. He spotted his goggles resting nearby and grabbed them, shaking away a couple of flies scurrying across the left lens. He stuffed a few pieces of packing foam into his backpack along with the petrol can, still half-full, and slammed the cart door shut.

He found no sign of the wizard when he searched the area. A dried piece of dung lying near some trees marked the only sign of the mule. He took in the scene one last time and let out a long sigh, wondering if the wizard was dead. “Come on, girl. Let's go.”

24. Cigarettes

ABEL STOPPED ON THE road leading to Trinity and looked back at Pip. She trudged forward, her head hung low and paying no attention to the places where she usually sniffed. Instead, she gasped and made loud gagging clicks.

Abel crouched next to her, feeling her ribs as they expanded and contracted, her breath rattling, and her eyes glassy.

Legs buckling, she collapsed on the asphalt, her head flopping hard against the ground.

He touched her neck and frowned at the heat emanating from her and the dryness of her nose.

“No. Keep with me, girl.” He scooped under her chin and stomach, taking her in his arms.

When he reached Trinity, he scanned along the fence and looked up at the towering crucifix to his right. “Hello? Sal?”

Pip breathed tight and shallow in his arms. “Come on, girl. Just a bit more. Just a bit longer. Stay with me. Please...”

Taking a few steps backwards, he called over the fence through his parched lips, words tearing from his throat.

The fence slid open, screeching along the ground as it dragged across.

A skinny woman wearing a brown robe met him with an awkward smile.

“Is Sal around? Jacob? I need help.” He gestured down at Pip.

The woman stepped aside and let Abel through, closing the fence behind them. “I'll take you to Jacob.”

They marched across the settlement without speaking, following the twisted path between shacks. His forearms spasmed, aching with Pip’s weight.

They passed chicken coops and pigpens, vegetable patches, the communal hall, and the water tower, and finally reached the door to Jacob’s surgery.

The woman knocked and walked away.

“Thank you.” Abel turned to the door. “Jacob?”

The door opened. “What happened?”

“She's hurt.”

Jacob looked at Pip and shook his head. “Bring her over here.” He signalled towards the bed, flush against the right-hand wall. Jacob’s desk stood to the bed's left. A line of books filled the shelf above.

Abel crossed the room and placed Pip on the bed, carefully rolling her onto her side so Jacob could examine the wound.

“She looks like she's got an infection. I don't know if I can help, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Please,” Abel whispered.

Jacob poured rubbing alcohol onto a cloth. He cleaned in and around the wound.

Pip didn’t flinch.

Dried blood and festering pus streaked the cloth.

Abel turned away. It was more than he could stand.

“You should go. Leave the dog with me. Get some food. Sal should still be around at the communal hall. We’ve not long eaten.”

Abel nodded and looked at Pip. He wanted to stay with her, but he knew Jacob was right. “Okay.”

––––––––

ABEL STARED AT THE lines of dirt embedded in the creases along his palms. He shivered as an icy chill coursed down his spine, the hairs on his arms and neck prickling. Pools of light from the setting sun glimmered along the water tower. Lines of smoke rose from shacks, swaying like ghosts in the dying light.

He entered the communal hall. The tables lay empty, the air dense with the smell of boiled cabbage.

Stepping over to the nearest bench, he pulled it from beneath the table, its legs scraping against the wooden floor. He slid along to his left and hunched forward, taking his head in his hands.

“Abel?”

He looked up as Sal approached him along the other side of the table.

“What happened?” She sat on the opposite bench.

He bit his fist and shook his head. “It's Pip. She's hurt.”

“What happened?”

“Wild dogs. It didn't look too bad when it happened. Jacob thinks it might be infected.”

“Well, she’s in the best place.” She placed a hand on his right forearm.

He sighed. “I know. She's been there for me, you know?”

Sal nodded and smiled.

“I know she's just a dog, but I need her.”

“You rely on each other. It's understandable.”

“It's more than that. She's always there, always supportive. I’m never alone when I’m with her. I’m scared about going backwards.”

“You’re never alone with God.”

He shook his head and raised a hand in frustration. “Don't start with that God stuff.” He raised his voice. “You know how I feel—”

“If you open your heart to faith, you wouldn't feel so alone.”

“Damn it, Sal.” He got to his feet.

“Please don’t get angry. Sit. Please.”

He lowered himself to the bench and slumped over the table. He looked up at her. “You’ve got your way of doing things and I've got mine. God doesn’t figure into that.”

She shook her head. “God is there for you, whether you acknowledge Him or not.”

He held his eyes shut, rubbing his beard. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. You've always been good to me. It's just...”

“It's just Pip. I know.” She offered him a warm smile.

“Thanks, Sal.”

She rose to her feet, brushing her dreadlocks over her shoulders. “You hungry?”

He nodded. “I could eat.”

Sal returned with a tin plate piled with slices of bread and a cold chicken thigh. She shuffled onto the opposite bench and gave him a concerned look. “What happened to your face?”

Raising a hand to his cheek, he touched the bruise beneath his right eye and flinched. “I had a run-in with the Family.”

“Again? Damn it, Abel. You're going to get yourself killed one of these days.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “I didn’t think you liked words like that.”

Sal leaned back, folding her arms. “This is serious, Abel.”

He shifted his gaze to a beeswax candle burning on the table behind her. “I went back to the Grid.” He glanced down at his plate then back up to see Sal frowning.

“Why? You swore you'd never go back there.”

“This wasn't about me, Sal.” He tore a piece of bread in half. “Last time I was here, I saw the slavers again after I left. I followed them and that's where they went.”

“That figures. I take it you weren’t made to feel welcome?”

He bit off some chicken and shook his head. “A couple of them chased me. They caught me. I thought I was going to die.”

“And where are they now? How did you get away?”

“They're dead.” He wiped his mouth with a sleeve.

Her eyes widened. “You killed them?”

“No, no.” He waved his hands. “It was a girl. She couldn't have been older than ten. She shot them and saved me.”

“Poor girl.” Sal grimaced. “Having to live like that.”

“Trust me—she’s one of the lucky ones.” He let out a sigh. “I really wanted to free those kids, Sal.” He took a bite of bread and winced at the pain in his bruised ribs when he swallowed.

“You should get Jacob to look at you.”

He nodded. “I found somewhere. I’m going to make it my home. Me and Pip. It’s going to be great.”

Her face brightened. “Where is it?”

“About an hour from the city. It’s small and it’s hidden from the roads.”

“That's good.”

“It's got a roof. It's got walls. I've even got a boat.” A smile crept over his face.

She gave him a confused look. “What on earth would you need a boat for?”

He brushed breadcrumbs from his beard. “I went into the city. The place was insane.”

“That's an unholy place.” She shook her head and made a cross over her chest.

“There's a lot of stuff from before.”

“I thought it was just ruins.”

He nodded. “Yes and no. Many of the buildings were ruined. Some of them aren't. You couldn’t live in any of them. The smell’s too bad and everything’s damp.”

“Did you find anything good?”

He picked up the chicken and tore off a strip. “I found a stuffed bird. I gave it to a friend as a gift.”

“That wizard?”

“No, not him.” He paused, frowning. “I think he might be dead.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I found his cart on the roads. It had been raided.”

She shook her head. “That's terrible.”

“Yep.” He tore off some more bread and dropped it into his mouth.

“So, who was it?”

“Who was what?”

“The friend.”

“Big Ned. He’s the leader at Town. Ended up that a few of the kids we freed were from there. He threw me a party, so I gave him the bird.”

“That's very thoughtful of you. Did you find anything else?”

He reached into his jacket and took out the sealed packet of cigarettes. He placed it on the table and watched Sal's expression turn to amazement.

“How?”

“I told you. It’s all there, waiting for me.” He pointed at the cigarette packet. “This is just the beginning.”

25. Cutting

ABEL SCRAMBLED FROM his bed, slamming the door behind him. He ran across Trinity, almost knocking down a woman and her three children as he raced to Jacob's surgery. He hammered at the door with both fists. “Jacob?”

The door opened a crack and Abel burst inside.

“She's on the bed.” Jacob rubbed his sleepy eyes.

“How you doing, girl?” She lay curled in a tight ball, sleeping on the bed. He turned to Jacob. “How is she?”

Jacob walked over to the bed and looked down at Pip. “It's too soon to say. I've sewn her up and cleaned her the best I could. The infection looks like it’s clearing up, but it could come back.” He pointed to the stitched wound on the back of Pip's leg. “She’s still in a bad way though. I can’t get her temperature down. The infection may have spread inside. I’ll pray for her, but you must prepare yourself for the worst.”

Abel scratched the back of his neck. “It won’t come to that. You’ll fix her.”

Jacob made a grim smile and nodded. “I’ll try my best.”

“Any chance you’d be able to check my ribs?”

“Sure.” He patted the bed next to Pip. “Take a seat.”

Abel climbed onto the bed and stroked Pip's side, her body hot to his touch.

“You might want to undress.”

“Right.” Abel took off his sweaters and T-shirts and piled them next to him. He looked down at the purple and yellow bruises scattered like Dalmatian spots along his stomach and chest. He scratched around the scabs along his side and rolled his shoulder, flinching as the bones crunched.

“You're looking pretty beat-up.” Jacob prodded a forefinger against each of Abel's ribs.

“Ouch!”

“You’ve got a cracked rib, but the rest of it’s just bruising. Take it easy and you'll be fine.”

Abel slid off the bed and scooped up his clothes. “What should I do until she’s better?”

“I don’t know.” Jacob turned to his desk. “Get some more food inside you, for a start. You look half-famished.”

Abel let out a bitter laugh. “I think I am.”

––––––––

AFTER BREAKFAST, ABEL waited for Sal in an unfamiliar hut. The ceiling hung a few inches above his head. A steel sink on the rear wall took up most of the room. A plastic jug leaned against one of the rusty taps.

Sal entered and tipped a bucket of steaming hot water into the sink and handed him a bar of soap and a woollen cloth.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

She looked at him and frowned. “It’s soap. Get yourself wet, put the soap on your skin, rub it off with the cloth, and rinse it with the water. That will get rid of the dirt.”

He sniffed at the soap and grimaced at the taste when he licked it. “You sure this stuff’s safe?”

Sal shook her head and smiled, placing a fresh towel on the sink's edge. “Of course, it's safe.”

He looked at the steaming water and then back towards Sal. “I'll take your word for it.”

“Wash your hair first.” She nodded towards the jug. “Wet it, rub in the soap, then wet it again until the soap's gone.”

She left the shack and closed the door behind her.

He stared at the soap and the cloth and placed them on the side of the sink. He got out of his clothes and kicked them into the corner behind him.

Leaning over the sink, he filled the jug with water and poured it over his hair. He rubbed in the soap, moving his hands in circles and untangling knots. After a minute or so, he rinsed the soap away and pushed his hair back out of his eyes.

He gritted his teeth when the hot water sent flashes of pain through his cuts and open sores. Working the soap into a thick lather, he rubbed it over his body, smiling as bubbles formed and dripped to the floor. He cleaned the soap away, scrubbing at the dirt with the cloth until the flesh beneath became clean. The water in the sink turned from grey to black by the time he finished. He pulled the plug from the sink and watched as the water disappeared, leaving behind a spiral of grime.

The skin along his fingers throbbed, pink and raw. Taking the towel, he dried himself, all the while being careful not to aggravate his injuries.

When he pulled on his clothes, they felt filthy against his skin.

A knock came at the door.

“Yep?”

“It's just me. You decent?”

“I'm dressed.”

Sal stood in the doorway and beamed. “Well, look at you. I hardly recognise you.”

“I'm sure it won't last for long.” His cheeks prickled at the way Sal’s gaze lingered on him. “A couple of days on the roads should see to that.” He looked down and saw Sal had brought a chair with her. “What's that for?”

“Take a seat.” She set the chair down, patting the backrest.

He tossed the towel around his neck and let it hang over his shoulders as he sat. “What have you got in mind?”

She gently lifted his fringe away from his forehead. “We’re going to give you a haircut.” She worked around his head, snipping away for several minutes. She moved around to his front and cut a fist-sized chunk from his beard. “You’re actually quite handsome when you can see your face.”

He stared at her lips and dipped his gaze. She was a priestess. Why would she be interested in someone like him? He patted his head and reached for his beard. “My head feels lighter.” He brushed the loose hair from his thighs, regretting how stupid he sounded. He pushed himself up and shook more loose hairs from his arms and body. “Thanks, Sal.”

“My pleasure. Things are looking up for you. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come since you first came here.”

Abel nodded. “It’s been a long journey, but things are starting to look up. I’ve got the new place, a new boat—” A knock at the door interrupted him.

“Come in.” Sal opened the door.

Jacob leaned inside and shook his head at Abel.

“How is she?”

“She’s gone.”

Abel took in a deep breath. “Gone? Gone, where?”

Jacob lowered his gaze and shook his head. “She’s dead, Abel. I’m so sorry.”

26. Disposal

ABEL STOOD OVER PIP’S body and stared at her through tear-filled eyes, his breath short between sobs. He rested a hand on her side and stroked her fur, her body cold and still and dead. “Can’t you do anything?”

Jacob shook his head. “She’s with God now.”

“Why didn’t you help her? Why didn’t you save her?” He jerked back when Jacob tried to place a hand on his shoulder.

Jacob let out a sigh and stood over Pip, gesturing to the stitching along her wound. “The infection must have been worse than I thought. I really am truly sorry. I know how much she meant to you.”

“You’ve no idea what she meant to me.”

“I’ll give you some time with her if you’d like, and then we could talk about how we’re going to dispose of the body.”

“Dispose of her body? You’re not doing anything with her.”

Jacob nodded and paced over to the door. “Take as long as you need.”

Abel wiped his nose with a sleeve and looked down at Pip. He leaned over her, scooping her up in his arms and turning to the door. Leaving the surgery, he ambled in a daze, carrying Pip’s body back to his room. How could she be dead? How could Jacob have let this happen?

Closing the door behind him, he placed Pip on the floor at the end of the bed and crawled onto the sheets, wrapping them around him as he sobbed and flailed, banging his fists against the mattress. This was no world to be alone.

––––––––

A LIGHT KNOCKING SOUND brought Abel from his sleep. “Yep.” He squinted at the door.

“It’s just me,” Sal said. “Can I come in?”

“Yep.”

The door creaked open, letting in the night. “I thought you might be hungry. You missed the evening meal.” She stepped around Pip’s body, sat at the end of the bed, and placed a tray on the bedside table next to him.

“I’m not hungry.” Abel tugged at the blanket, dragging it from underneath Sal and pulling it around his shoulders, facing the wall as he curled into a ball.

“You need to keep your strength up.”

“For what?” Abel turned, glowering. “I’ve lost everything. Pip’s gone. The wizard’s dead. I failed those kids. What have I got? What’s the damn point?”

“You’ve got people who care about you. I care about you. Nothing changes that.”

“Everything changes that.”

Sal reached down to Abel’s jacket, rummaged through the pockets, and took out his hunting knife and pistol.

“What the hell are you doing? They’re mine.”

“You can have them back when you leave. I’m not having you doing anything foolish in our community.”

He sat up and stared at her, incredulous. “You can’t do that.”

“You won’t miss them.” Sal got up. “I promise I’ll take care of them.”

“Wait...”

“You can have them back in the morning. Goodnight. And do eat.” She closed the door behind her.

Abel glanced at the bread and sighed.

––––––––

THE NEXT MORNING, ABEL took his seat next to Sal and Jacob in the communal hall, poking absently at his porridge with a spoon. “I’m going back to the Grid.” He placed his spoon down.

Sal shook her head. “Abel, no. You’ve come too far.”

“I’ve got nothing left, Sal. The least I can do is make one last try for those kids.”

“It’s too dangerous.” Sal poured water from a jug into his cup, her hands trembling. “You’re feeling low because of Pip. This isn’t the time to make rash decisions.”

Jacob leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “Sal’s right. You’re in no state of mind to do something like this.”

Abel sat back, gazing up at the beams stretching across the ceiling.

“You can stay here as long as you need to. We’ll help you get through this.”

He felt Sal’s hand on his, looked down, and forced a half-smile. “And do what? Every minute longer I wait here is another minute those kids are suffering. I’m going to get them.”

Silence hung between them for several seconds and then Sal sighed. “We’re not going to talk you out of this, are we?”

Abel shook his head. “Nope. I’m going to finish up here, and then I’d like to trade those cigarettes.”

“I’d suggest getting some new clothes,” Jacob said. “I hardly recognised you with your beard and hair trimmed short. New clothes might keep you from being noticed.”

“Jacob’s right. I’m sure the Family are aware of your description.”

“So you’re with me on this?”

She shrugged. “I know I won’t be able to talk you out of it.”

He washed the last spoonful of porridge down with a swig of water and brushed his mouth with a sleeve. “Thanks, Sal.”

––––––––

ABEL WRINKLED HIS NOSE at the smell of damp and engine oil. He swung his backpack onto a table and reached into his jacket pocket, taking out the cigarettes.

“May I?”

“Go for it.”

Sal took the packet, grasping it gently between her fingers as light played across the cellophane wrapping. She nodded to herself, handing the packet back.

“Now I know you’re going to give me a good deal on these.” He drummed his fingers on the table.

“You always drive a hard bargain. First things first, we need to sort you some new clothes.” She lifted a box of men's clothing onto the table and dragged out T-shirts, sweaters, jeans, and jackets. Muttering to herself, she tossed him a pair of olive green combat trousers. “Try these.”

Catching them in mid-air, he held them up to his waist, comparing their length against his legs. “They look fine.”

“Just try them on. I won’t look.”

He gave a shrug, undressed, and pulled on the trousers. “Hey, these fit great.”

“These should fit you as well.” Sal held up a couple of faded T-shirts and a woollen sweater.

He tried them on over his clothes, took them off and stuffed them into his backpack. “Perfect.” He looked around. “Any socks?”

She slid the box of clothes back under the table and pulled out a sack. She rummaged inside for a few moments and tossed him a pair of knitted socks. “Here. These should fit.”

Removing his boots, he tried on the socks, wiggling his toes against the warmth. “These are great.”

“What about a hat? Yours has seen better days.”

He took off his cap, looked at it for a moment, and put it back on his head. “I’m keeping the hat.”

Scanning the room, he stopped when he spotted a steel spoon. “I’ll have that. Have you got a fork, and a bowl, and a plate, maybe some blankets?”

“This is a lot of stuff.”

“You don't have to trade. You and I both know you’ll get good trade for this.” He went as if to pocket the cigarettes.

Sal made a dismissive wave and smiled before rolling up a blanket and pushing it into his backpack.

He stepped over to the clothes and rifled through a pile of coats. He yanked out a long leather trench coat and smiled. “Swap you.”

Before Sal could protest, he slipped from his battered jacket and emptied the pockets, transferring their contents to the new coat before flinging his old jacket onto the pile.

Sal shook her head. “Fine, fine. But that’s everything.”

“Chuck in a few tins. Maybe a bit of that salt beef and we’ve got a deal.”

“Done.” She raised a finger. “But that's your lot.”

“Excellent.” He rubbed his hands together. “How do I look?”

“Like a different person.”

He gave a slow nod and chewed his bottom lip. “Thanks, Sal. I’m going to need my weapons back before I go.”

27. No Life

ABEL KEPT HEADING SOUTH when he reached the end of the trail leading from Trinity. He crossed the highway, vaulting a rusted barrier before making his way down the slope at the other side. Struggling to keep his balance, his boots slipped against loose soil, the bottom of his coat snagging on exposed roots as he scrambled down to a clearing at the bottom.

He clambered over low walls, their perpendicular angles tracing the outlines of ancient buildings. He dragged a forearm-length of rusted metal from the ground and dropped it into his backpack.

The faint trace of a trail emerged to the right, almost undetectable through the layers of dust and roots. He scanned around for signs of an ambush, for feral dogs, or for any movement that might suggest the Family was nearby.

Nettles and thistles whipped behind him as he made his way along the track. Twisted apple and pear trees lined the route, shrouding the path in a shadowy archway, their fruits rotting on the ground. Tiny insects flooded the air around him. He brushed them from his face with irritation, cursing as they tickled his nostrils and landed on his eyes.

After a few hours, the trail opened out, the path cut abruptly by the dust bowl of a huge blast crater. He skirted around its edge, re-joining the path after about a mile.

His legs ached as he climbed the hill overlooking the Grid. When he reached the top, he sat on a rock and watched. Addicts staggered between cars and trucks like injured flies. He ate blackberries from his hand, picked from a nearby bramble bush.

Looking down to his right, he traced the line of the highway as it wound east towards Trinity and beyond to the city. He swallowed the last berry, got to his feet, and removed his backpack. With trembling fingers, he took out the petrol can, the saucepans, and the length of rusty metal and laid them on the ground. He poured an inch or so of diesel into the bottom of each pan.

Returning to his backpack, he pulled out the packing foam and broke it into small pieces, dropping them into the pans. A dense chemical smell filled the air around him as the diesel reacted with the polystyrene, transforming it from a dirty white to a gooey brown. He stirred the mixture, adding more fuel and packing foam.

When he filled the pans, he heaved his backpack onto his shoulders. He took another look at the Grid and could just make out the campervan and trucks at the far end.

He made his way back down the hill and stopped next to the bramble bush. He picked another handful of berries, eating them one by one as the juices filled his mouth, his hands staining purple.

Nodding to himself, he picked two more berries and closed his eyes. He rubbed the berries against his eyelids and around his eye sockets, feeling the stickiness as it clung to his flesh.

––––––––

ABEL REACHED THE GRID at dusk. He swept his gaze across the hundreds of cars, sagging trucks, and wandering people. The heavy black smoke brought with it the odour of burnt plastic and collided with the acrid, almost overpowering stench coming from the open sewerage ditch, the filth running in a slow brown trickle to his right.

It was hard for him to believe that he not only lived at the Grid for so long, but that he survived. Hunching over, he folded his arms and edged forward with shambling steps, echoing the demeanour of the other addicts.

Making furtive glances towards the dealers at the far end of the Grid, he took an indirect meandering route through the cars, stepping over junk and rotten filth while the other addicts ignored him.

Ahead, a bony man threw branches onto a roaring bonfire. The man looked around and stared at Abel for a few seconds, tilting his head and squinting. “Abe, bro?”

Abel swallowed and nodded. “Hey.”

“You back?”

“Yep.” He reached down and threw more wood onto the fire.

“What happened, bro? I thought you were clean?”

Abel shrugged and looked towards the flames. “They must have been right. You never really get clean.”

The man shook his head and placed a smoke-stained hand on Abel's shoulder. “That's too bad, bro. You gave me hope. It's too bad.”

An involuntary twitch quivered at the corners of Abel's mouth. “I need to find somewhere to stay.”

The man nodded. “You got any plez? Just one. Just to keep me going.”

Abel opened his hands. “I got nothing. All out.”

“Come on, bro. Just one. That's all I’m asking.” He dropped to his knees, tugging at Abel’s jacket.

He sighed and shook his head, pulling away. “I swear, I haven’t got any.”

Anger flashed across the man's face, his purple-rimmed eyes bulging. “Yeah? Screw you.” He spat on the ground.

A couple of dealers looked over. Abel moved across to his left, making sure the smoke obscured him. “You look after yourself.” He tried to keep his voice calm, low. If there was one thing he knew about plez, it was that the addicts could never be trusted, that they could turn violent without warning.

He zigzagged around the trucks and cars, avoiding the wandering dealers and keeping out of the way of other addicts.

He ducked behind a burned-out car about twenty metres away from the campervan, raising his head occasionally to catch a glimpse of the dealers huddled around a wrecked truck. He counted four of them, all with rifles. They stood between him and the campervan.

He got up and knocked into a man when he turned. “Sorry.” He reached down to help him up.

“Get your damn hands off me.” The man turned to Abel.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“I thought you were dead.”

The wizard staggered to his feet, stumbled back a few steps, and gave Abel a haunted look. “I am.” His robes hung tattered and frayed, limp and filthy, his eyes rimmed with purple. Skin drooped loose off his face. His fingers trembled.

“You on plez?”

The wizard nodded. “What do you want from me, man? I told you we're done.” He went to leave.

Abel grabbed the wizard’s shoulder. “I thought you were dead. This isn't about you. That’s not why I’m here.” He dropped his hand and nodded towards the campervan. “I’m here for them.”

“You still on with that? I'm glad I left you.”

“What happened?”

“You happened. You ruined everything.” He glared at Abel.

“You can’t blame me for this. We tried to help those kids because it was the right thing to do. But this...” He gestured towards the wizard. “That's not my fault.”

“Remember when I asked you about plez? Remember when you told me how wonderful it was? How it was the most amazing feeling you ever experienced?”

Abel clenched his fists. “I also told you how it ruined my life.” He shook his head. “This isn’t on me.”

The wizard turned as if to leave and charged shoulder-first into Abel's gut. They tumbled to the ground and the wizard mounted him.

Abel curled his legs and arms into a defensive position as he gasped for air, stones digging into his back.

The wizard pummelled him with punches and elbows, snarling as he swung wildly.

Cringing, Abel rolled to his right, sending the wizard crashing headfirst to the ground.

The wizard screamed out in pain.

Breathless, Abel forced himself to his feet and placed a boot on the wizard’s throat.

“Don't hurt me.” The wizard gasped, waving his hands.

Abel looked around to see a pair of dealers readying their rifles. “Damn it.” He drew his foot back and yanked the wizard up by the elbow. “We need to go.”

The wizard looked over to the dealers. “You think I’m coming with you?”

“I’ve seen them kill for less. Trust me.”

The wizard held Abel’s gaze for a long moment and then nodded.

They turned and ran, racing through the Grid until they reached the highway, the night sky closing in as they disappeared into the shadows.

––––––––

THEY CAMPED AT THE edge of a clearing about fifteen minutes north of the highway. The campfire spat and crackled. Abel prodded it with a stick.

“Where's that dog of yours?” The wizard leaned back against a tree.

Abel swallowed and stared into the darkness. “She’s dead.”

“That's too bad. She was alright.”

“Yep.” He sat on the ground next to the wizard and looked up at the stars. “I can’t believe you ended up on plez.”

“You don't look so clean yourself.”

He shook his head, smirking.

“What's funny?”

“I'm still clean.” He turned to the wizard. “I used berries to make my eyes purple. Thought it would keep the dealers from suspecting.”

The wizard laughed and stared at the flames. “I miss this. Travelling the roads with you was alright.”

Abel took a deep breath through his nose and clenched his fists. “Why did you run out on me? Why did you take my stuff?”

The wizard shrugged, shifting his gaze down to his broken fingernails. “I don't know, man. Things got a bit crazy. I was hurting. Needed to pay you back.”

“Pay me back? For what?” He turned to the wizard, narrowing his eyes.

“Getting me shot.” The wizard pointed to his limp shoulder.

“Right.”

“It seemed wherever we went, we’d get into trouble. I was in pain. I was angry. I blamed you, so I left. I wasn't thinking straight.”

They stared into the darkness for almost a minute before Abel spoke. “I went back to Town. Ended up that a couple of the kids we freed were from there.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out the folded polythene sheet. “Big Ned gave me this to say thank you. I want you to have it.” He dropped the sheet onto the wizard's lap.

The wizard looked down, gripped it, and looked up. “Thanks, man.”

“He was really pleased that you got Mister Fluffy to live and save his boys.”

A snort of laughter erupted from the wizard’s nose. “I'd forgotten all about that thing.” He slapped his thigh, wiped a tear, and smiled.

“How did you end up on plez?”

The wizard tensed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't know. Some raiders took my mule and set fire to my cart. I was hurting. I ran into this dealer on the roads. She gave me some plez, said it would help with the pain. She didn't even want nothing.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Thing is, you were right. I took it and it was amazing. I’d spent so long talking about magic, but plez...plez was real. It’s like nothing else.” The wizard licked his lips. “You know this already.”

Abel said nothing.

“Next day, I got the tremors. All I could think about was getting more plez. It took me a day to get to the Grid. I gave them pretty much everything I had for a couple of hits. It seemed worth it.”

Abel shook his head, staring down at his hands. “I'm really sorry.”

“I wandered round for a bit then got into one of those old cars. I lit up. Don't get me wrong, it was still amazing, but it wasn't quite there, it didn’t reach that pinnacle. So I took another one. And another. And another.”

“You never get the first one back.” Abel piled more branches on the fire. “You’re always chasing it. But you never get it back. Everything else is just...”

“Flat.” The wizard hunched over and tore at his hair. “I can’t get it out of my head.”

Abel moved close and put an arm around him. “I know. I know.”

After several minutes, the wizard sniffled and sat up. “I want to help you. This is no life for a kid. You got a plan?”

“Yep.”

28. The Whale

ABEL STASHED HIS JACKET and pack in a fern bush at the side of the road, taking his knife and leaving his pistol behind. “You okay?” He handed a pan to the wizard.

Sweat dripped from the wizard’s brow as his lips trembled. He ran his hands over his face and nodded. “I'm alright. Starting to get a bit twitchy. Just got to keep focused.”

They walked along the highway towards the Grid, the first moments of sunrise emerging behind them, red fingers creeping into the darkness ahead.

“You sure you still want to do this?”

“Don't ask me that.” The wizard nodded towards the Grid. “If I stop to think about it for too long, I know I’ll change my mind.”

“Right.” Abel wrinkled his nose at the stench of the sewerage ditch. He moved to the edge and looked down at the filth. Gagging, he lowered himself down up to his waist.

“What are you doing?”

“It's the only way to get around the back of that van.”

The wizard screwed up his nose and picked something from his hair. “Yeah, but, man...”

Abel waded through the sewage, resting the saucepan on his shoulder as he slowly trudged forward. He coughed and spluttered as he tasted the stream, gulping as it stung his eyes. He followed the ditch round to the right and glanced over his shoulder as the wizard moved out of sight.

Lowering his head, Abel's chin hovered inches above the surface. Something like bone crunched beneath his feet. He fumbled with a matchbox gripped between his fingers and the saucepan's handle. “Damn it.”

After five minutes forcing his way through the filth, the ditch curved round to the left, becoming shallower with every step.

He looked across the cars, searching for the wizard. The fires from the night before lay in ashy piles, thin streams of smoke rising here and there. Tightness gripped his chest. What was he doing?

A few people shambled around at the other end of the Grid, most asleep or in a stupor inside cars. He caught a glimpse of a quick spark as someone lit-up. He placed the pan on the dry ground and heaved himself up from the muck.

Shuffling along on his belly, he crawled across the dusty ground until he reached the back of the campervan. He cupped his hands around his eyes and looked through the window, finding the van empty apart from a couple of crates brimming with tiny purple crystals.

Adrenaline surged through his body as he daubed the van with napalm. He struck a match and staggered back as flames engulfed the van.

He turned his attention to a nearby truck. He checked the trailer was empty and slathered its sides with napalm and set them ablaze.

Fires roared around him as addicts stood and stared.

He ran over to the truck where the slaves were held and shoved open the shutters. A group of confused faces stared back at him, their eyes glassy and rimmed with purple.

Shouts came from behind him.

A bullet whizzed by.

“Damn it.” He barged through the crowd as the slavers made chase.

Two of the slavers pursued him.

Another gunshot cracked.

A third slaver, approaching from the left, loaded his rifle.

Abel dived, rolling underneath a truck before emerging from the other side.

“You did it.” The wizard joined him, staring at the flames. “Look at those things burn.”

“I need to get those kids out.”

The wizard nodded. “Go.”

“I can’t. There are too many...”

“I'll distract them. Go!”

Abel scrambled to his feet as the wizard charged towards the Grid's southern end. He took a wide arc through the vehicles.

A car exploded behind him.

When he reached the truck, the kids were already outside, looking around in confusion. A flicker of recognition passed over their faces and Abel held out his hand. “Come with me. Take each other's hands. Came on.”

The kids frowned and shared bemused glances.

“Now!”

The kids linked hands and snaked their way through the Grid.

Cars and trucks burned behind them.

Addicts tipped over vehicles, started more fires, and turned on dealers.

Reaching the highway, Abel looked back to see the wizard standing on a truck. He flicked globs of burning napalm at the slavers as they circled him.

The truck caught fire.

The slavers let off gunshots.

The wizard dropped to the ground.

Abel called out, but he knew he had to leave.

29. Sanctuary

THE KIDS STAGGERED in a confused line as Abel led them east along the highway.

They followed along wordlessly, passively, the road behind them clear.

A scattering of addicts wandered onto the road leading from the Grid.

No one from the Family followed.

Abel turned to address the kids, looking at their desperate faces, their pitiful, purple-rimmed eyes. “We need to keep going. You’re going to be safe. You’re going to be free. But, we’re not there yet. It’s going to be hard, and I need you all to work with me and help each other.”

They walked along the highway as fights broke out in the distance and more flames climbed from the Grid. Black smoke filled the sky behind them.

Abel slowed and looked around for the bush where he stashed his backpack. Finding it, he put on his jacket, checked his pistol, and heaved the backpack onto his shoulders. Turning to the kids, he smiled. “Do you know Trinity?”

The kids stared back at him with blank expressions.

“That's where I’m taking you. You'll be safe there.”

One of the kids cracked a half-smile and stared at Abel with big green eyes. “Thank you.” Her words came out coarse and scratchy.

“Come on. We've still got a way to go.”

––––––––

IT WAS EARLY AFTERNOON when they reached Trinity.

Sal greeted them at the gate. “Christ, Abel, you smell like a sewer.”

He shrugged and stepped aside, revealing seven scrawny kids with sickly expressions and tattered clothes.

Sal covered her mouth.

“I freed them, Sal.”

She shook her head and blinked away a tear. “You have to get Jacob to look at them.”

“Before anything, I think we could all do with a drink and something to eat.”

“Of course. Of course.” She opened the gate wider. “Come inside. All of you.”

The kids gave Sal nervous looks.

“It's okay,” said Abel. “You're safe now.”

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WHEN ABEL ATE, WASHED, and changed his clothes, he went to see Jacob, the surgery door open when he approached. Laughter came from inside. He leaned around the door to see a couple of the freed kids playing with a roll of bandage.

Jacob looked up from his desk and smiled. “You really came through for these children.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the wizard.”

Jacob looked past him. “Is he with you?”

Abel sighed. “I think he’s dead.”

Jacob pushed his fingers together and leaned back in his chair, looking down his hooked nose. “Perhaps I underestimated him.” He watched the kids playing and made a grim smile. “He sacrificed himself for all these lives. He was truly doing God's work on Earth.”

“I don’t know about that. I just wish I could have saved him too.”

Jacob nodded. “Not everyone can be saved.”

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ABEL LOOKED DOWN AT Pip’s body resting on the floor as he stuffed the last of his clothes into his backpack. So much death. How was he going to build a new life without Pip? He stopped for a moment, realising that he hadn’t considered the idea of carrying on without her.

There was a knock at the door.

He cleared his throat. “Come in.”

Sal leaned in, offering a warm smile. “You did what you set out to do, Abel. We’re very proud of you.”

“You’re going to look after those kids, aren’t you? I need you to take care of them, teach them right.”

Sal stepped over Pip’s body and placed a hand on his arm. “We’ll free them from plez and point them in the way of the Lord.”

Abel shook his head. “Just teach them to read and to do right—for me.”

“Like it or not, I know you were doing God’s work. If you led them here, you led them here for a reason.”

“Please, Sal. If the kids want to be into this God stuff, let them. But, don’t put it on them. They’ve been through more than you could understand. Just show them kindness and let them trust you. Don’t make it about God.”

Sal tilted her head, looking deep into Abel’s eyes. “Okay. They’ll have a home here, and we’ll do all we can to help them.”

“Thanks, Sal.”

She looked down at Pip and ran a hand along a dreadlock. “Would you like us to bury her?”

That wasn’t a question he wanted to consider. He wasn’t going to let someone else bury her. He didn’t even know if was ready to bury her himself. He took in a deep breath and licked the dryness from his bottom lip. “I’ll take her with me. Not sure what I want to do yet.”

Sal leaned forward and embraced him with a long hug. He felt her warmth against his chest, her breath against his ear. She kissed his cheek and pulled away. “You take care. You’ve had sadness, but there can be hope. Take hope with you on your travels. Do right.”

Abel nodded and lifted Pip’s body under an arm. “I will. Thanks, Sal.”

30. Ashes

ABEL HEADED EAST ALONG the highway, Pip’s body draping stiff over his shoulders.

He took a right and headed towards the place where the wizard discovered the quad bike. The trees lining the road stood in a silent vigil, the air still around him.

When he reached the edge of the old town and the lawnmower shop came into view, he looked around and raised his hands. “Hey. Little girl?”

He saw no signs of anyone, so he moved deeper into the town. Scanning across the tops of buildings, his gaze swept across broken windows and alleyways, searching for movement. What the hell was he doing? Last time he was there the girl had shot two people. What’s to say she wouldn’t see him as hostile again?

He walked around the bloated corpses of the man and woman from the Family, their bodies swarming with flies.

“Little girl?” He looked around again and lowered Pip’s body to the ground. He took off his backpack and pulled out a blanket and a couple of food tins. “This is for you. I wanted to say thank you.”

He scanned the buildings again and pulled on his backpack. “Little girl?”

Heaving Pip’s deadweight back onto his shoulders, he turned and walked back the way he came.

A minute later, a strange high-pitched clicking echoed around the buildings behind him.

Abel’s hand jerked towards his pistol.

The girl emerged from behind a wall, riding a pushbike with colourful tassels hanging from its handlebars, a rifle hung over her bony shoulders.

She skidded to a halt and got off the bike. Blonde hair hung lank and greasy past her shoulders. She met Abel’s gaze with sunken eyes.

Gathering the blanket and food, she dropped the items into a pink basket above the front wheel and waved a hand.

He returned the wave and continued on the road towards the highway.

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LATE THE NEXT MORNING, Abel spotted the tattered red material hanging from a tree, fluttering against the breeze. He wheezed with exhaustion at Pip’s weight on his shoulders.

He carried her off the highway, pushing through the trees and bushes, searching for several minutes until he saw the garage.

He opened the shutters and found it exactly how he'd left it. He carried Pip over to her bed in the corner and laid her down.

Crouching next to her, he poured some water into his mouth, sighing. “What are we going to do, girl?” He stroked behind her head and frowned at the spasms jerking across his arms. “You stay there.”

He got up and stepped outside. With a tight chest, he stared at the sky. Thin brown clouds swirled above. He looked back into the gloom.

Pushing his way back through the trees, he returned to the highway, snapping branches from the dead pines. He stared east towards the city, following the highway as it descended in a gentle slope beneath the shimmering black waters.

He scanned across the miles of buildings, turning to the south as smoke ascended in thin streams to the sky.

Shaking his head, he returned to the garage and dropped the wood next to the pile of ashes.

He was home.

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THE END

Author’s note

THANK YOU. I CAN’T express how much it means to me that not only have you taken a chance on my book, but you’ve also made it to the end. And now here you are, reading this.

I love stories. When I was a boy, even though we didn’t have a lot of money, my mum used to read to me every night. Stories like C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Ted Hughes’s The Iron Man, and Roald Dahl’s The Witches have stuck with me to this day.

When a good story resonates, it’s a powerful thing.

Sadly, I’m unable to read print books anymore due to visual impairment, but I am still able to listen to audiobooks. For me, nothing beats losing myself in another person’s world, getting a glimpse into an author’s imagination. But more than anything, I love great characters.

When an author writes a great character, it’s like getting to know a new friend—I’m with them all the way. Whether it’s the father in Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, where every decision could mean the difference between life or death, a hapless buffoon like Ignatius J. Reilly from John Kennedy Toole’s A Confederacy of Dunces, or Kurt Vonnegut’s Kilgore Trout—when there’s a great character, they stick with me for life.

I’ve read a lot of post-apocalyptic fiction over the years, and what drew me to the genre is the idea that even after civilisation has collapsed, there is still hope, there is still the triumph of the human spirit. I wanted to write a world where even though terrible things happen, there is still room for kindness and compassion.

Over the past few years, I’ve been reading a lot of science fiction and fantasy, and a lot of what I’ve read and enjoyed has no doubt filtered into my Wasteland series. I originally came up with the idea for Wizard of the Wasteland as a short story that came to me in a dream (sounds like a cliché, doesn’t it?).

I know there will be at least three books in the series, all of them playing with character types you’d found in fantasy fiction—wizards, knights, kings, clerics, etc. I’ve had a lot of fun writing in this grim world, and I’ve come to love my Abel character.

I wanted a character with a past and a worldview that might not sit well with some readers—he was a drug addict, he’s an atheist. But he doesn’t kill and he wants to be a good person. He loves stories and wants to do right, but he’s also a survivor who will risk everything when he has to.

What I’ve learned from writing this book was that there’s a fantastic community of authors and readers out there who offer support and go out of their way to be helpful. I’ve been overwhelmed by how helpful strangers have been in shaping this book, offering advice, and making it a story I can be proud of.

If you enjoyed this book, please take a moment to leave a rating on Amazon. Your kind words and encouragement keep me motivated and focused on writing the next story.

Want to know when the next book is out and receive the occasional free short story? Join the email list at: tinyurl.com/joncronshawemaillist.

Thank you.

Jon Cronshaw, 2017.

About the Author

Jon Cronshaw is a British science fiction and fantasy author based in Morecambe, England.
As a freelance features writer, he has had work published in local and national newspapers across the UK, including the Metro, Yorkshire Post and the Guardian.
He earned his PhD in the history of art from the University of Leeds in 2011, focusing on the life and work of Anglo-American sculptor, Jacob Epstein (1880-1959).
He's a voracious reader, guide dog owner, ex-gamer, and certified geek.

Follow along with his writing journey by finding Jon Cronshaw's Author Diary podcast on iTunes, Podcast Addict, and Libsyn.

Read more at Jon Cronshaw’s site.