Finally, the pain at least subsides, although I can still feel a faint throbbing sensation as I start to get my breath back.
“Derek!” Craig calls out from somewhere around the other side of the farmhouse. “Derek, where are you?”
I take another deep breath. There’s no way that I’m willing to let him know about this latest little attack, just as I never tell him about the headaches or the occasional traces of blood in the toilet bowl.
“Derek!”
Sighing, I haul myself up, and thankfully the pain doesn’t become significantly worse. Still, it takes me a moment to regather my composure, and I turn around just as Craig hurries into view.
“I saw someone!” he says, with a hint of concern in his voice.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I saw someone, out there in the forest. I was checking the potatoes, and out of the corner of my eye I spotted movement. So I turned and looked, and I saw a figure ducking out of sight.”
“What kind of figure?” I ask, immediately thinking back to the creature that was here five years ago. “Was it human?”
He nods.
“Why would someone come here?” I continue.
“Maybe they just happened to stumble across the place,” he suggests. “I mean, it’s five years since Donald and the others left, and we haven’t seen a single other person since. Even if there are only a handful of people left out there, it makes sense that eventually one of them would find us.”
“You’re probably mistaken,” I tell him. “Perhaps you saw a deer, or—”
“It was a person, I’m sure of it. I called out and went over to try to find him, but he was gone. I guess I don’t blame him, he’s probably scared.”
“And did you get a close look at this fellow?”
“Not really. I might be wrong, but I think he was wearing some kind of camouflage jacket. And do you remember yesterday afternoon, when I thought I heard an engine in the distance?”
“You heard no such thing,” I tell him.
“What if someone’s out there?” he asks. “Even if they can’t help us, we could maybe find out a little more about what’s going on.”
“Or we could end up getting our throats slashed,” I suggest, “by some maniac who thinks we have a decent little set-up here.”
“I was thinking about maybe putting a sign out there,” he replies, “letting them know that we’re friendly.”
“And are we friendly?” I ask. “Do we really want strangers showing up?”
“Why wouldn’t we?”
“We don’t know what they might bring with them,” I point out, as I try to ignore another flicker of pain in my back. “I’ve had, to say the least, very mixed experiences with strangers ever since the world went down the drain. I’m not sure that I’d automatically want to invite any Tom, Dick or Harry to come and join us.”
“So you think we should just stay here forever like this?”
“I think we should be careful,” I tell him. “Donald took his shotgun when he left, remember? We’re armed with nothing more than a few kitchen knives.”
“I’m going to do it,” he says firmly. “If nothing else, I want to hear what’s going on out there in the world. I want to know whether there’s any hope left.”
“It’ll be the death of us,” I mutter as he turns and heads inside.
As soon as he’s out of sight, I ease myself back down onto the crate. The pain in my back is coming and going now, but I think that overall something seems to have clicked down there. I’m not far off turning eighty, and the past few years haven’t exactly been easy. My body is slowly but surely starting to break down and there’s nothing I can do to reverse the process. Soon I won’t even be able to help Craig, and I already think that leaving this farm would kill me.
He wants to know about the rest of the world, and I understand that. But if he decides that he has to leave, I won’t last long here without him. The worst part is, I know that wanting him to stay is so utterly, irredeemably selfish.
Twenty-Five
“A lot of people went crazy,” Craig says that evening, as we sit eating left over scraps of rabbit meat for dinner, “but some didn’t. You and I didn’t. Donald and Sharon, Adam, Jessie… Well, maybe Jessie went a little nuts, but the point is that plenty of people survived. So it stands to reason that at some point, order’s going to be restored.”
“You have faith in mankind,” I mutter, as I feel the painful knot burning in my back. “I hope you’re right.”
“Are you okay, Derek?”
“I’m fine,” I reply, with my mouth full of food.
“Are you in pain?”
I glance at him, and I can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s onto me.
“It’s nothing,” I say after a moment. “Listen, if you want to go, I understand. It’s just, I can’t come with you. That shouldn’t stop you, though. You’re young, you need to fight for your future.”
“I’m not leaving you,” he replies.
“You might have no choice,” I tell him, and I have to admit that it feels good to be doing and saying the right thing. “I’m knackered anyway, I probably only have a few years left.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“You mustn’t be sentimental,” I add, fixing him with a determined gaze. “We’ve survived here for five years. Five years, Craig! That’s sensational. We had a lot of luck, but we also worked hard. Frankly, it’s a miracle that we’re still alive, but it’s getting harder. Why didn’t you mention that the potato yields are getting so much lower? And don’t deny it, because I went out there myself and took a look. There’s some kind of blight attacking the crops.”
“I’ve got it under control.”
“For how long?”
He sighs.
“And rabbits are getting harder and harder to come by, aren’t they?” I continue. “When we started, we were catching almost one a day. Now it’s two a week if we’re lucky.”
He sighs again, but it’s clear that he’s got no argument. When we began this conversation, my intention was to let him know that I understood if he wanted to leave. Now, however, I realize that I’m actively encouraging him to get out of here, which is a rather sobering thought. It’s as if I’m signing my own death warrant, but I tell myself that things can’t be that bad. I’m sure I can find a way to keep going.
Craig opens his mouth to say something, but instead the silence is suddenly interrupted by a knock at the front door.
We both turn and look out toward the hallway, and then we turn back to one another.
“Did you put that foolish sign out in the forest?” I ask cautiously.
“Not yet,” he replies. “I was going to do it tomorrow.”
He pauses, before getting to his feet.
“Wait!” I hiss.
“For what? Whoever it is, they already know we’re here. They’ll have seen the candlelight. For all we know, we’ve been being watched through the window.”
I look over at the window, but all I see is a reflection of the dimly lit kitchen. I know that Craig is right, and a moment later I turn to watch as he heads through to the hallway. The idea of some stranger coming into the farmhouse leaves me feeling extremely nervous. For so long, I’ve told myself that there’s always a chance of the world getting back to normal. What if this new arrival tells us the opposite, that everything’s in ruins?
Craig opens the door cautiously, and I hear him speaking to someone.
A moment later he steps aside, and a scruffy-looking man enters the house, wearing a faded white baseball cap and filthy overalls. Something about him instantly sets me on edge.
Craig comes back through to join me, with the man a few paces behind.
“This is Jerry,” he explains. “He saw our lights and… Well, he wanted to come and introduce himself.”