Savage: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel (8 page)

When Garfield had found Poppy inside the big house
beside the pond, he had been looking only for food.  He was getting so
desperate that the notion of beating other survivors and taking their food was
beginning to seem less and less like a crime.  He had not spoken to
another human being in weeks and was beginning to forget the sound of his own
voice.  His hygiene and manners had become meaningless.  The only
thing that mattered was surviving, no matter what.  He was becoming like
an animal.

But then he had found a little girl close to death and
everything had changed.  Focusing on her needs and keeping her safe
brought back his humanity in one fell swoop and refocused him on what it meant
to be alive.  The temptation to kill and steal from others went away,
replaced by love and affection.  Poppy reminded him that there were still
helpless, innocent people in the world and that they needed looking
after.  She had stopped him from becoming a beast.  He owed her his
humanity. 
But I don’t know what I’m doing with her anymore.  She
wants so much from me, but I have nothing to give.  I never asked for
this.

And neither did she.  I should have told her that
I loved her.

Garfield headed over to the gate and got going with
the group, heading towards the church.  He forced himself not to look back
until the pier was far behind him.

H
e didn’t look back once
. 
Doesn’t he care about me?

Poppy sat atop the souvenir store where Anna lived,
and stared off into the distance.  She’d watched Garfield and the foragers
right up until they’d become black dots on the horizon.  Now they weren’t
even dots anymore, they were gone.

Why didn’t he look back?  Isn’t he going to miss
me?

The tears in Poppy’s eyes had finally dried up, but
first they’d spilled down her cheeks for close to an hour.  Her cheeks
were sore now and the cold was making her shiver.  The rain was falling
harder, but she fought against the discomfort for a while longer.  She
didn’t want to get down from the roof until she knew Garfield was completely
out of sight and not coming back. 

Anna had called to her a few times in the last hour,
warning her about catching a chill, but Poppy just ignored her.  The woman
would just want to talk – adults always wanted to talk – but the
last thing Poppy wanted right now was chitchat. 
I just want Garfield
back, and talking won’t make that happen.

Once upon a time, Poppy had thought her parents were
like God.  They were never wrong and always had the answers to her
questions.  They seemed to know all the secrets of the world and were
never scared of anything.  Poppy was certain they’d live forever.

But then they had died.

Watching her mummy and daddy get sick and turn into
monsters had shattered everything Poppy thought about the world.  Her
parents weren’t Gods anymore.  They had become weak and smelly. 
Slowly, their skin turned grey and their eyes bulged.  Eventually they had
barricaded themselves inside their bedroom and told Poppy to wait outside for
help.  They said she must never try and come inside the bedroom, no matter
what.  Poppy had waited so long to be rescued that she thought she would
spend the rest of her life in that dark, smelly house.  The electricity
went first.  Then her food disappeared and the water flowed weaker and
weaker from the taps.  Poppy wondered if that meant she would die
soon.  Once, in desperation, she shouted out to her parents and begged
them help her, but all she’d been met with was a scary growling that sounded
more like two wild animals than her mummy and daddy.

In the end Poppy had started to grow poorly.  She
had lain down on the living room floor and listened to the silence.  So
far away in her dreams had she been, that when Garfield entered her home, she
didn’t even notice.  When she opened her eyes the big ginger-haired man
was standing over her, staring down at her face curiously.  He might have
been there to hurt her, she knew that deep down, but somehow she didn’t
care.  For a long time the only thing that had bothered her was the raging
hunger in her belly, but even that had gone away after a while.  All she
felt in the end was tired and numb and sad.  She wouldn’t have minded
dying. 
But Garfield saved me.

He had taken her away that night, fed her, re-clothed
her, and talked to her; but she said not a single word back to him.  He
didn’t seem to mind – in fact he seemed to like her silence.  He was
a quiet person himself.

She didn’t speak for weeks. 

Eventually, one night while they were camping inside
an old garden centre surrounded by the dead, Poppy had managed to utter one
single word to Garfield.  She had said: “thanks.”

That time seemed so long ago now.  Much had
happened between then and now.  She’d grown more than she thought she was
supposed to in a single year; toughened up so much that her parents would
probably not even recognise her anymore.  She hoped they would be
proud. 
I miss them.
 

Poppy could stare at the horizon no more. 
Looking into the distance at the last place she’d seen Garfield was making her
too sad.  She swivelled around on her bum and stared in the opposite
direction, out towards the sea.  The grey-green water kept them alive,
Anna often said, and even though everyone was sick and tired of eating fish,
they never failed to cast their rods out every single morning and night. 
They rarely failed to catch something or other.  Anna said the fish were
having lots more babies than they used to because there was less people eating
them. 
I remember when there used to be lots of human babies.  I
wonder what happened to them all.  Are they all gone, or are some of them
safe?  I hope so.  I would like to hold a baby someday.

Maybe one day when I grow up I will hold my own.

Poppy often stared out at the sea, hoping to spot a
dolphin or a whale.  Garfield told her those animals didn’t live in the
English Channel, because the sea was too cold, but Anna disagreed and said that
they could never tell anything for sure anymore.  Once the dead had not
walked, but now they did.  Perhaps, one day, great big whales would belly
flop in the waters beyond the pier and make a new home for themselves. 
Poppy wanted to make sure that she didn’t miss it if it happened. 
Maybe
I could ride away on one.

She noticed movement on the horizon.  It could
have been her mind playing tricks on her, though.  She wanted so badly to
see a whale that she might have tricked herself into believing she’d just seen
one. 

Sunlight bounced off the surface of the water. 
There was movement there for sure.  Poppy edged off her bottom and shifted
onto her knees.  She leant forward and squinted, trying to see past the
glaring morning sun and the streaks of falling rain.

What is that?  Am I about to finally see a whale?

No, that’s not a whale.  It’s…something else.

It took almost ten minutes before Poppy could work out
what she could see growing on the horizon.  Once she finally realised, her
eyes stretched wide and her mouth dropped open in shock.  “No
flippin
’ way!” she almost shouted.

Poppy leapt off the roof and went to get the
others.  She wore an excited grin on her face and almost wet
herself. 
They’re not going to believe this
, she thought. 
Never in a bazillion years.

F
rank entered the captain’s chamber
and stood before his son’s desk.  Samuel was reclined back in his leather
chair, staring hard at the ceiling.  He would often do that when there
were no immediate matters at hand; just sit and think until there was. 
“We’ve spotted survivors off the Devonshire coast,” Frank told his adopted
son.  “Small village with a pier, just past Dartmouth.”

Samuel sat forward and leant across his desk.  He
raised one of his dark eyebrows.  “Oh?  How do we know there are
survivors?”

“We’ve spotted people fishing from the railings.”

“Fishing?  My, how very relaxed.  They must
be well set-up at this pier.  Any sign of the cripple amongst them?”

“No.  What are your orders?”

Samuel smiled as if his orders should be
obvious.  “I won’t have that terrorist roaming free.  Send a sortie
ashore to meet with these survivors.  If they are the only camp in the
area then there’s a good chance the cripple may have chanced upon them. 
We need to question them.”

“Question them?”

Samuel smiled wider, showing long white teeth. 
“Yes, just words.  No needed for anything stronger…yet.  Send
Roman.  Maybe this time he’ll do something useful.”

Frank’s mood worsened at the talk of Roman.  “I
worry about that one.  He doesn’t respect you.”

“Oh, he respects me enough, father.  His very
presence is proof of that.  He had no need to join us here, and even less
to stay.  There was nothing to stop him from staying in his dinghy and
waiting for the next chance of rescue.”

“There would not have been any chance of another
rescue.”

“Exactly.  I saved that man’s life.  He owes
me.”

“He has a friend aboard, the man who was with him when
we rescued him.  I think the only reason he stays with us is because it
keeps his friend safe.  He’s been trying to keep the relationship secret,
but petty officer Dunn informed me about it earlier today.  The man’s name
is Harry.”

“That just proves my point,” said Samuel.  “I
keep Roman’s only friend safe.  Thus he has every reason to obey me.”

“But he shows you no respect.”

“Respect is for the weak, you know that.  If I
had shown respect to my peers I would never have made Black Remedy the greatest
company on Earth.  To truly thrive, a man must
stand
alone
and tower above all lesser men.  Roman will be a leader one
day, if he doesn’t screw up his potential.  I can make use of a born
leader, but if he disappoints, then I’m sure there will be more humble uses for
a man like him.”

“But if he doesn’t respect you, how can you trust
him?”

Samuel folded his arms across his chest.  “If you
had shown respect for my dead father, you may have resisted sleeping with my
mother.” 

Frank spluttered.  Falling for Samuel’s mother
while he had been the family’s bodyguard had been a poor show of integrity, but
when Samuel’s father died in a freak accident, Frank had been there to comfort
her.  They had grown unavoidably close.  Her premature death had
taken a piece of him.  He’d loved no woman since.  His sole devotion
had been raising the son she had left behind. 
I just hope she’d be
happy with the job I’ve done.

Samuel grinned.  “It’s okay, Frank.  Don’t
blush.  You know I forgive you.  When mother died you were there for
me.  I will never forget that.”

Samuel’s mother had been an alcoholic.  Her death
had been tragic and left the boy without a parent.  Frank had gladly taken
the responsibility.  “I’ve always wanted the best for you, Samuel. 
That’s why Roman bothers me so much.”

“I trust Roman more than the whimpering fools who come
before me on bent knee.  I need men of action, not subservience. 
Believe me, father, I have a way of seeing into a man’s heart, and Roman’s is
as black as my own.  He seeks redemption.  I intend to give him
opportunity.”

Frank sighed.  Reading into his adopted son’s
intentions was a folly he’d ceased pursuing long ago.  As much as Samuel
spoke in riddles, it could never be said that he did not understand the men
around him.  He knew every weakness, flaw, and vulnerability of every man
he ever crossed, often within minutes of meeting him.  That was just one
of the many reasons Samuel had nigh on controlled the economic world via his
megalithic Black Remedy Corporation – a company started by Samuel’s
father and American business partner, Vincent Black.  Both were long dead.

And now Samuel commands probably the largest group of
survivors left on the planet.  He was made for leadership and power, but
now, instead of a company, he owns a burgeoning nation on the sea.  It’s a
lot of influence for such a young man.

 “Father, you are over-thinking.  I can
always tell because another of the hairs on your head goes grey.  You are
aging quicker than I would like.  I’m rather fond of having you around, so
please don’t grow too old on me.”

Frank nodded.  He felt older than he would have
liked, that much was true.  The end of the world had been a weary ordeal,
and even from the safety of the
Kirkland
he’d witnessed more bloodshed
than he ever thought possible.  He himself had partaken in the initial
culling of the infected brought on-board.  
God forgive me.

Taking in groups of survivors had been a perilous task
and many came to the
Kirkland
with bites and scratches.  Frank had
hurried them away hastily under the guise of medical attention, but had shot
them in the head at the rear of the ship before dumping them overboard. 
The other survivors knew it was happening, but they said nothing. 
Survival of the fittest and selfish denial were the only traits that mattered
anymore – in fact they were probably the only traits that had ever mattered. 
They were just less well hidden now that society had crumbled.

“If the survivors have no knowledge of the cripple, if
they seek to join us, what then?”

Samuel shrugged his bony shoulders and blinked his
dark eyes slowly.  “Do they have a boat?”

“No.”

“Then we take those useful to us and urge the rest to
remain at their camp.”

“Isn’t that a tad…
cruel? 
If they have a
doctor or a strong leader, shouldn’t they stay together as a camp? 
Leaving the weak behind and taking away their strength is the same as-”

“Killing them?” asked Samuel.  His gaze bubbled
with a fury that was always close to the surface, hiding just behind his
smile.  “There is no place left for ideals, father.  Taking aboard
the weak and useless, feeding them and housing them while others more deserving
starve and die, that would be the true crime.  There is no place for the
meek.  Their days of inheriting the world are over. 
My
world
will be a world of the strong and proud.  Humanity will rise again in
glorious fashion, I promise you that.”

Frank cleared his throat.  “
Your
world
?
”

Samuel’s face drained of anger and he let out a
chuckle.  For a fleeting moment he looked just like the young boy Frank
had raised in the countryside of Worcestershire.  That boy had possessed
the energy of a hundred normal children and the intelligence of two
hundred.  By the time Samuel was sixteen years of age, he had read more
books than most librarians read in their lifetimes.

Samuel cleared his throat.  “That was a trifle
arrogant of me, perhaps, but this new world needs a leader – someone to
bring the tired and suffering together and show them their new path.  If
someone more befitting for the task exists, I would welcome him with open
arms.  Until then, I will do what I can for my people.  I am a
leader, father.  I was born a leader and that’s what these people expect
me to be.  Without me they are lost.”

Frank nodded, but inside he was thinking,
Are you a
leader or a dictator?  Would you truly relinquish power if it were in the
interest of the fleet?

Samuel’s expression darkened and Frank wondered if he
knew what he was thinking.  “Go and fetch Roman,” he ordered.  “Send
him ashore again.  If the cripple is there, I want him brought back to
me.  Alive or dead; it makes no difference.  I merely seek to piss
upon his face before tossing his bones into the ocean.”

Frank sighed. 
Some say a leader is judged by
the way he treats his captives.  I don’t think Winston Churchill spoke
much of pissing on his enemies. 
He turned away and left with a sigh,
wishing he didn’t love the young man as much as he did.  The boy had grown
up in his care.  All that Samuel was came from the lessons Frank had
taught him.  There was a lot of good in his son, Frank knew it (just look
at the number of lives Samuel had saved and brought inside the protection of
the fleet), but there was a deep darkness, too, something Frank dared not think
about most nights. 
It’s always been there.  Even as a boy.
 
Frank loved Samuel and would try to steer him right.  That’s what fathers
did.  Samuel Raymeady was born to be a great man and a great man he would
be.  The arrogance of youth was no reason to condemn him.  He’d done
well so far.  Everything would work out for the best. 
Is it love
that makes me trust him?  Or is it fear?

One thing Frank knew for sure: with all the death and
destruction in the world, there was nothing Samuel could do to make things any
worse.