I can’t keep going. I can’t…
Up ahead, the gap between the trees widened. The moonlight there was brighter.
Please, please, please, let this be the park.
She reached the edge of the woods and leapt out into the moonlight. Her legs gave way and she fell, face first, onto the hard, unforgiving ground.
Pavement? This is the park. I made it!
“Now you’re fucked, sweetheart.”
She spun around onto her back, but she didn’t have the energy to get up. She was done for.
The stranger exited the woods and stood over her. It was too dark to make the man out; to even see his basic details.
Who the hell are you?
She started crawling away on her hands and knees, dragging herself along. She screamed out as loud as she could. Pleaded for help. Pleaded for the others to come and rescue her.
There’s nobody here. They’re not going to hear me.
“Anna, what’s wrong?”
Alan was standing over her and giving her a quizzical look. Seeing him gave her the tiny boost needed to scramble to her feet.
“Alan!” she said. “Thank God. You have to help me.” She spun around to face her attacker, and saw now that it was a young black man. His left eye was bloody, completely gouged out, but looked to be healing. His clothing was torn and muddy; a grey tracksuit, like the ones Jan and Renee wore, covered in dry blood.
Another prisoner?
Annaliese threw herself into Alan’s arms and squeezed him desperately. “He’s trying to kill me, Alan. He killed Mike. Shawcross…”
“Where is Shawcross?” Alan asked her calmly.
“He’s in the greenhouse. He found the zoo’s agriculture plot.”
“Yes,” I know,” he said.
Annaliese pushed him away. “You know?”
Alan nodded. “Yes. Shawcross showed a handful of us yesterday. Explained the food situation.”
“What situation?”
“That too many greedy mouths to feed is going to mean big problems,” said the unknown black man. He had moved to the edge of the treeline and was standing there without any kind of urgency.
Annaliese stared at Alan and realised, then, that the two men already knew each other. “Alan,” she said, swallowing deeply as she asked the question. “Who is this man?”
Alan shrugged. “Calls himself Dash. Shawcross bumped into him a few days back. He’s been staying at the greenhouse this whole time.”
She shook her head and started backing away. “He’s a murderer. He killed Mike.”
Alan sighed. “I liked Mike, but there’s not enough food for all of us. Tough decisions had to be made.”
“Decisions made by who?”
“By me?” said Shawcross, emerging from the treeline. His face was matted with blood and one of his eyes was swollen shut. Mike had really done a number on him.
Good. I just wish Mike had had the chance to finish you off.
“You’re a psychopath,” she spat at Shawcross. “What gives you the right?”
“Taking it, gives me the right. Some of us recognise what the world has become. If the human race is going to survive, some of us need to be pragmatic. Until things are more stable, we can support only the core group.”
Annaliese took a step backwards as he approached her. She shook her head at him. “Core group? What are you talking about?”
“Well,” Shawcross grinned, “you could say the people that respect my forward thinking are the core group and the rest of you are…disposable.”
Annaliese went to make a break for it, but Alan grabbed a hold of her. “I’m sorry, Anna,” he said. “I really am.”
He seemed sorry as well. The jerk. There was no pleasure in Alan’s eyes at all. It was obvious that the only reason he was even going along with Shawcross at all was weakness. The guy just wanted to live, and would hitch his wagon to whichever was the strongest horse.
“Let me go, Alan.”
“I can’t do that.”
She shrugged and tried to escape his grasp. When she couldn’t, she opted to knee him between the legs.