The End of the World Running Club (23 page)

I heard a click.  At first I thought it was the snap of the fire, but it had come from further away. The sound was more metal than wood. Grimes had already held out her arms as if to signal us to move back from the fire, but it was too late.
 

“Stay where you are,” said a voice from the darkness on the other side of the fire. It was young and female, but low, with no hint of fear. A long barrel appeared from the shadows pointing straight at us.

“Don’t shoot,” said Grimes. “We’re not armed.”

“I know,” said the voice. She had hidden herself perfectly in the shadows so that the only thing we could see was the solid and unwavering tip of her gun. It was clear that she had done this before.

“Hands above your head,” said the voice, pointlessly, since we had already complied. “And move into the light.”

 
We each stepped into the firelight.

“Stop,” she said. “Now, one by one, drop those packs. You.” The barrel swung to Bryce. “You first. Easy does it.”

Bryce hesitated, bristled.

“Come on, big man,” said the voice, quietly and slowly like a come on.

Bryce eventually let his pack fall from his shoulders onto the ground in front of him.

“Well done,” she said. “Now kick it forwards and kneel down. Put your hands behind your head. Good, now the rest of you...”

“Please,” said Grimes, taking a step forwards as the rest of us slowly released our packs. “We don’t want any trouble.”

The barrel swung towards Grimes and into the firelight came a small, strange figure.  She was dressed in a thick, black woollen coat that hung almost to her feet. The sleeves were rolled up tightly, freeing the tiny, gloved hands beneath them. Inside the coat was padded with blankets and jumpers that escaped from every opening. She wore a coarse woollen hat that would have been more at home on a workman and the bottom half of her face was covered in a red scarf. The only part of her that we could see was her eyes, which were dark brown and already seemed older than their years.

“Too late for that,” she said, training the gun further on Grimes. “Now be quiet and do what I say.”

Grimes stepped back and dropped her pack, kicking it forwards with the rest of them.

“Knees,” said the figure, jabbing the barrel down at Grimes’ feet. Grimes slowly knelt and put her hands on her head. The figure edged carefully around the fire towards where Bryce was kneeling. She kicked her boot against his pack.

“Going somewhere?” she said.

“Aye,” said Bryce. “Wee spot of camping now the weather’s good.”

“Huh, funny.” She kicked the pack towards Bryce. “Open it. Slowly.”

Bryce released the hood of the pack and undid the drawstring. A few packs of dried noodles fell out.

“Good,” she said. “What else is in there?”

“More of the same,” said Richard.

“I wasn’t asking you,” she said, swinging the barrel to Richard, then quickly back to Bryce.

“What else?”

Bryce smiled up at her.

“More of the same,” he said.

“Pull it out,” she said.

“Darling, we just met,” said Bryce, still smiling with his hands held out.

She turned the gun and cracked Bryce in the forehead with the butt. Bryce collapsed silently onto his back. I heard him grunt and struggle in the snow, saw his legs kicking in the firelight.

“F...fuck me!” he said finally as he clambered back to his knees. He was holding a hand over his forehead, blood dripping from his glove down one side of his face.

The figure stepped towards Bryce and retrained the barrel on his head.

“One more joke and you’re dead,” she said. “Now empty the pack.”
 

Bryce said nothing, just stared up at the barrel clutching his head and breathing through his teeth. She moved the barrel even closer to his head.

“Slowly,” she said.

Bryce began pulling out water, tins and packets from the pack with his free hand. The figure stepped back, satisfied.

“Those look like army packs,” she said. “You don’t look like army though.” She scanned our faces. “Not all o’ youse anyway.”

“We’re not,” I said. “We’re just…”

“Wasn’t a question,” she said, looking sideways at me, the gun still trained on Bryce. Bryce pulled the last of the supplies from his pack and sat back on his heels, inspecting his bloodied hand.

“Further back,” the figure said, motioning to Bryce, who edged further away from the fire. The girl pulled the scarf down from her mouth. She was not even as old as I had thought, probably not even into her twenties. The skin of her face was pale, drawn and hollow but she still had the full, flush lips and round eyes of an attractive young girl. Blonde curls of hair fell from the worker’s hat down below her chin and around the skin of her long neck. Youth was still trying its best, despite everything.

She looked at us all in turn, then knelt with her gun pointing up into the sky, sorting through the contents of Bryce’s pack. Her eyes flicked between the food and us, making sure we were still in our places.

“Some camping trip,” she said. “Where were you going?”

Were.
Past tense. I felt Grimes and Richard’s discomfort at this too.

“South,” said Richard. “To Cornwall.”

The girl puffed through her nose as she inspected a packet of dried milk.

“The boats?” she said.

“Yes,” said Grimes. “You know about them?”

The girl spread her lips into something far from a smile. Large white teeth shone back through the paired red flesh.

“Aye,” she said, tossing the packet back on the pile. “I know.”

“What do you know?” said Richard. “Please, tell us. I have a son.”

Her face flickered at Richard as he said this, some emotion caught between recognition and agitation. He seemed to catch it and glanced at me.

“My family,” I said. “They’re in Cornwall too. My daughter, my son…please, we need to get down there. We’re searching for a car, take the food, but…”

“I will, thank you,” she said, standing up again and aiming the gun once again at Bryce.

“Please let us go,” said Richard.

“Right,” said the girl, ignoring him. “All of you, turn around, stay on your knees.”

“No,” said Richard. I felt my stomach flip. I think I fell forwards, I must have made a noise too. I could see Bryce glaring up at her, shaking his massive head in the darkness.
 

“No,” said Richard again, struggling to his feet. “You don’t have to do this, let us...”

“Down!” said the girl. Richard fell back to his knees.

“Please,” said Grimes. “Put down the gun, we just want to be on our way.”

“All of you, down!” she shouted.

She stepped further towards us and swung the gun in an arc between our faces. I flinched as it met mine. I went to speak, heard Richard make another attempt as well, then heard something else, another voice coming from within the cottage. The girl suddenly froze and glanced over her shoulder, then turned back on us. Her eyes flashed in the firelight. Fear.

“Down!” she said. “Turn around! Stay on your…”

The sound again. Human. No words, just a high, quiet, trembling warble.

The girl stopped and looked back again, for longer this time. Whatever the noise was, she couldn’t ignore it. It was calling her, calling something deep within her. When she turned back her face was no longer calm and no longer in control. She was almost on her haunches, jabbing the gun at us and breathing quick sharp breaths.

“Turn around!” she said. “Now!” She looked back over her shoulder again.

I caught Bryce’s eye.

“What was that noise?” he said quietly to her.

“What?” she said.

“That noise,” he said. “What was it?”

We heard it again, longer and louder and now unmistakable; a piercing squeal followed by a mournful wail and babble. A baby’s cry.

“Or maybe who?” said Bryce, looking the girl up and down and she paced up and down in front of us. Bryce seemed to brace himself. I saw Richard do the same, ever so slightly lowering his hands from his head. I guessed their plan and prepared to follow.

Suddenly the cry erupted into a full-blown scream. The girl’s legs buckled a little and the barrel of her gun dropped as she turned. This time, Bryce pounced.
 

“No!” screamed the girl as she turned back to us, raising the gun at the dark mass of hair and flesh approaching her. Bryce just had time to slam his hand up against the barrel and the shot exploded off into the sky as he landed heavily on top of her. Richard, Grimes and I followed until we had her screaming and kicking beneath us.

The gunshot echoed around the dark hilltop as we wrestled to free the gun from the girl’s wiry hands. She gripped it to her chest, the tip of the barrel rubbing dangerously against her skull. I felt sure the gun would go off and send the contents of her small head shooting into the flames next to us. Richard and Grimes struggled to stop her legs from kicking, which Bryce pushed down on her shoulders and Harvey tried to calm her down.

“That’s alright girl, that’s alright, slow down there, we’re not going to hurt you.”

 
I tried to prise her fingers away from the metal. At some stage my hand became trapped between the barrel and her body. Beneath the layers of clothing I could feel the heat of a swollen breast pressing against my wrist, the fabric damp with leaking milk.

All the while, the baby’s cries still bawled from within the cold and dark of the stone cottage.

“Please,” sobbed the girl. Her eyes were shut tight. “Let me go, my baby, my baby, she’s sick, my baby...”

I wrenched my hand free and the gun came with it. I fell back in the snow and the girl wriggled free of the others, stumbling back around the fire and into the cottage. Grimes quickly took the gun from me and aimed it in the direction that the girl had run. She stepped away from the fire.

“Get out of the light,” she said. “She might have another gun.”

We each stepped back into the darkness and waited. From the cottage we heard the baby’s cries subdue and stop, then soft footsteps in the snow. The girl reappeared by the fire with the baby slung around her neck in a brown shawl, suckling on one of her breasts. The girl looked for us, blinking in the dark. She looked mortified, furious, afraid. She spotted Grimes holding the gun and her face softened into a look of resignation. She turned her eyes down to her daughter, a child once more.

“That’s my only gun,” she said quietly. “I’m not armed. I promise.”

I promise
. A child’s words. Grimes stepped back into the light and lowered the barrel.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” she said.

“I know,” said the girl, still gazing down at the baby on her breast. “I know that.” She began singing a quiet series of tuneless, wavering notes.

“I’m putting down the gun,” said Grimes, carefully pulling one of the packs away from the fire and propping the barrel against it. “There.”

Grimes looked back at us and waved us in. We walked slowly into the light and stood facing her over the fire. Harvey walked further around and stopped a safe distance from her.
 

“I’m Harvey,” he said.
 

The girl looked up at the old man.
 

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Gloria,” said the girl.
 

Harvey nodded and smiled at her, eyes twinkling, then looked down on the baby who was falling asleep on the nipple.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “Do you mind?” He carefully reached out a hand. The girl stepped back warily, but when she saw Harvey do the same, she took a breath and stepped closer again, offering the child’s head. Harvey carefully stroked it twice.

“And this is Sofia,” said the girl.

“I hate to be rude,” said Bryce from the shadows. “But my head’s pissing blood here.”

Richard and I bandaged Bryce’s head up as best we could. It almost certainly needed stitches but we had nothing to stitch it with. When we were done, Bryce sat back on his pack and smoked in silence, staring into the flames. He wasn’t used to having his head split open by a teenaged single mother.

While we were seeing to Bryce, Harvey and Grimes had taken Gloria back into the cottage. I guessed they were trying to assure her that we were no threat. This was the truth, of course, but I was fairly sure that Gloria already believed this. I was more concerned about what would happen if she ever managed to get her gun back.
 

Grimes led Gloria back to the fire by her arm. She had given her the detachable fur-lined hood from her jacket and the baby was still sleeping in the shawl, now wrapped up tightly in a clean blanket. Harvey followed behind carrying two pots and a grill pan from the kitchen. There was water in the pots and he set them on the grill pan over the fire. He busied himself with packets from Bryce’s pack as the water slowly boiled.

“Did anyone else survive here?” I said.

“Here?” she said, then shook her head slowly. “No,” she said.
 

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Why?” she said, looking at me sideways.

“Your parents, your family...” I stammered.

She slowly rolled her eyes with a glimmer of a smile and puffed through her nose.

“I’m not from here,” she said. She moved her face closer to her daughter’s. “We’re no country girls are we darling?”

“So where
are
you from?” said Richard.

“Glasgow,” said Gloria. “Council block in Easterhouse.”

“How did you get here?” said Grimes. “Where’s Sofia’s dad?”

Gloria’s eyes glazed a little as if she was only just considering this. Then she suddenly seemed to remember something and frowned at Richard.

“I walked,” she said. “You lost your boy?”

“Not lost,” said Richard. “He’s already gone south, to Cornwall.”

“Did he go on his own?” said Gloria.

“No. He was rescued. A helicopter took him.”

Gloria slowly nodded her head.

“Aye,” she said. “Aye, I saw them. So why didn’t you go with him?”

“I wasn’t there when he was rescued.”

Gloria made a face, as if what Richard had said made no sense.

“Weren’t there? What do you mean? Where were you?”