Outside

Epilogue

He was in his early thirties, but had the look of someone far older. His clothes were dirty and worn, his once fair hair was thick and darkly matted and he was limping quite badly. Holding onto his left shoulder as he hobbled along, you could clearly see the overgrown, filthy nails on his right hand, the back of which was a mass of scratches.

But more distressing than his overall appearance, was the fact he was a grown man sobbing out loud in unashamed misery. Snot and tears collected in a wretched glob on the side of his chin and he angrily wiped his grimy sleeve across his face, adding a clump of black dirt and grit to the mixture. How did I get here? Jamie asked himself. Once upon a time I was happy, loved, on top of the world and now here I am, starving, aching and bloody miserable. Nobody even knows I exist.

He had been on his way to the compound in Boscombe. The girl at the Poole Shanty had told him about it.

‘They’re looking for cheap labour,’ she’d said, ‘and they’re taking on outsiders.’

The girl was gorgeous in a short-haired pseudo-soldier sort of way. He didn’t think she’d be living on the outside for long. About nineteen years old he reckoned and not yet worn down by the grinding harshness of life on the outside. Feisty and tough – he knew it was a necessary armour and he also knew through all that spikiness, she liked him.

This was just the spark he needed to gee him up a bit. Most people he came across were truly horrible and it was a relief to have a bit of a laugh, pretend things weren’t as bleak as they actually were.

He’d tried to act disinterested, but all the time, he was contriving to meet up with her accidentally on purpose at the Boscombe Compound, which was where she was now headed with her pig-ugly friends. To avoid appearing too keen, he watched her leave the shanty, waited a day and then left to make his own way there.

Then that stupid rich bitch had smacked into him with her AV. She’d looked at him in the wing mirror and he’d instantly known she wouldn’t give him a second thought – would never stop for a nobody like me. He supposed he should be grateful she didn‘t have shock plates, but she’d really banged up his leg and his shoulder didn’t feel too good either.

How was he supposed to make it to Boscombe now? He’d never catch up with the girl again either. She’d said she was going to see what Boscombe had to offer and then she thought she might head up to London.

Yeah right, he’d thought, but had been strangely buoyed up by her optimism. Okay, well more buoyed up by her tongue ring and what she’d said she could do with it. And now that opportunity was gone and he was injured badly and why couldn’t anything ever just go right for him just once? More tears escaped. I’m just a low-life, no-hoper, snivelling loser, he raged silently to himself.

To rub salt in the wound, he was currently limping outside one of Bournemouth’s most prestigious areas, The Talbot Woods Perimeter. He took care not to get spotted by the guards who patrolled the inner fences. There was no way for him to get inside anyway so they’d probably just ignore him, but he couldn’t face any sort of confrontation tonight.

Through the humming electrified wire, Jamie glimpsed the mansions which sat grandly in gardens landscaped to the max. Each one had its own distinctive style and its own fancy security system, no doubt.

‘Tossers!’ he shouted ineffectually. It was more of a strangled sob and it kick-started a bout of coughing. God, I’d kill for a well-brewed beer, he thought.

It was a warm evening and he sweated slightly in his filthy sludge-coloured T shirt. He’d tied his grubby stained jacket around his waist and his feet sweltered in worn out leather boots. He wished he had sandals, but these boots were the only pair of footwear he owned, and they were ready for the scrap heap.

It was getting dark now and he realised he’d have to find somewhere to sleep soon. He didn’t allow himself to look in at the lighted windows with their scenes of rich domesticity. He used to lose himself in fantasies of this nature, but it was way too painful and completely pointless; he was no masochist.

Jamie was hungry, starving in fact. Then he remembered the homemade berry bar the old lady had given him yesterday at the shanty. She said he reminded her of her dead son (morbid old cow) but that he looked like he could do with a decent meal. Predictably, she invited him to eat lunch with her family and he accepted immediately. This was nothing new; he often aroused motherly instincts in women. It was a natural gift, like having a good singing voice or being a good kisser.

The food she’d prepared had been pretty awful, but it had filled a hole. The only thing on the menu that tasted any good was her berry cake, which he had raved about, in the hope she would give him some more. When he had said his goodbyes, she slipped a wrapped berry bar into his jacket pocket and told him to take good care of himself. Now, when he reached into his pocket for the bar, it wasn’t there.

‘What?’ He had been saving it. Building himself up to enjoying its moist oaty sweetness. Now finding it gone was just another kick in the teeth. He checked his other pockets. Maybe I put it in my bundle, he thought, knowing full well he hadn’t, but deciding to check anyway. He untied the piece of thin canvas material he used to carry around his few possessions. Every day, he meticulously checked it for holes as he’d lost items before, where some creature had nibbled through the material. He spread it out on the uneven dried earth and sifted through his belongings, but the bar wasn’t there either.

It was in my pocket, I know it was. This was rapidly turning into a disastrous night. Then, it dawned on him he had probably lost it when the AV had knocked him flying. He wasn’t too far from where it happened and so he decided to turn back and search for it. If he didn’t, he knew he would end up dreaming about the damn thing.

He limped back with his eyes glued to the ground. It was almost dark now and he cursed the woman who had knocked him down. Finally, he saw the tyre marks, not far from the Perimeter gates, where the vehicle had skidded to a halt earlier this evening.

‘Right, where are you?’ He scanned the track and the surrounding area, where he thought he had been thrown, but he couldn’t find it. It could have gone flying in any direction. He combed the area, straining his eyes, but the bar had been wrapped in a large green leaf, tied with twine and, if it wasn’t out in the open, it would be nicely camouflaged in its leafy surroundings.

He pulled back a small bush, crossly, not expecting to find what he was looking for, when suddenly, he spied it lying in a clump of weeds, right by the fence.

‘Yes!’ He laughed out loud, feeling ridiculously happy at this small triumph. Then he frowned, as he noticed a gaping hole in the electric fence, right next to his berry bar. He snatched up the bar and put it back into his pocket, ensuring he buttoned it closed this time. He examined the hole. It was definitely large enough for a person to climb through, as long as they were careful not to touch the electrified sides. Should he? Shouldn’t he?

Fourteen year old Skye lived next door to the gorgeous Luc Donovan. She thought his house was the nicest on the Perimeter. During the last few weeks, she’d occasionally snuck out of her house late at night, to meet up for a laugh.

He always started off a bit annoyed, but he never told her to go home straight away. He’d have a game of cards with her or a swim, before saying her Pa would kill him if she kept coming over at night without permission. She more or less ignored his protests and just laughed at him, calling him a chicken and a wimp, although this was miles away from what she really thought.

She had decided to meet him again tonight, and this time she’d make it crystal clear how she really felt about him. He’d have to be blind not to realise anyway, she’d dropped enough hints for God’s sake.

Pa had been out working on Hook Island all night and had gone to bed, tired out, at about one thirty. Ma was next door at Uncle Tom’s and she must’ve crashed there for the night. Riley had gone to bed a couple of hours ago and she always slept like a log.

Skye had her own rooms in the warren-like attic on the second floor and she loved the higgledy piggledyness of them. She’d also started to appreciate the bonus of having her own separate staircase which led almost directly to the back door. The only thing she had to be careful of was Woolly making too much noise. She knew he wouldn’t bark at her arrival, but his claws made an awful clattering racket on the old wooden floors as he twirled around and around in a mad frenzy of greeting.

Luc was delicious – seventeen, dark haired and popular in an ‘I don’t care’ sort of way. Even her parents loved him. Both sets of parents were really buddy-buddy and they were always going on group family picnics together or visiting each other’s houses for barbeques, parties, Christmas drinks and stuff.

However, Skye knew their parents would go ballistic if she and Luc started seeing each other, not least because she was only fourteen. Skye guessed Luc had a bit of a thing for Riley, but he hadn’t a hope of getting anywhere with her as she always set her sights on older, harder to obtain boyfriends. Skye thought she was mad. Luc was the fittest bloke in the Perimeter, if not the whole of the country.

Jamie chewed his lip as he looked at the hole. He’d get drafted, beaten up or shot if he got caught, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. It was fate. What treasures might he find on the other side? At the very least, he might find some more food, or a comfortable place to sleep. That decided him. He would sleep in relative safety tonight, away from the scavs and muggers and he would still set off for Boscombe in the morning.

He took off his coat and put it and his bundle through the hole first. Then he made himself as small as possible and squeezed his way nervously through, ignoring the sharp pain in his injured shoulder and tensing his body, fearful of getting a shock from the fence.

Once he was safely through, he shrugged his jacket back on and found himself surrounded by fruit trees and manicured shrubs and bushes. He yanked a small golden apple from a low bough and put it into his other pocket. Then he picked a tiny under ripe plum and took a bite, spitting it out in disgust at the sour taste.

He was obviously in someone’s garden, some rich person’s garden by the look of it. He saw a large white timber summerhouse in front of him. It was octagonal in shape and he crept closer to investigate. The summerhouse, or poolhouse, sat about twenty feet away from an Olympic-sized swimming pool and its underwater lights cast a dancing glow over the area. He could see the main house the garden belonged to. It was more mansion than house and looked miles away from where Jamie stood, staring. No lights were on.

He turned back to look at the poolhouse. It had round blue glass windows, set into each of the eight sides, like portholes. The door had a white wooden frame with a large stained glass window depicting scenes of picture-book sailing boats on stylised waves under a blue sky. A generator hummed and Jamie deliberated over whether or not to break the beautiful stained glass, to gain entry. But he hesitated, worried about alerting the guards and strangely reluctant to destroy this tranquil scene.

It stirred a distant memory of his childhood that made him feel oddly nostalgic. He rolled his eyes at his own sentimentality and half-heartedly tried the wooden door knob, before preparing to smash his elbow through the door. But to his surprise, he turned the knob and the door opened.

Jamie smiled in disbelief and gave a low whistle. ‘Yeah, I could cope with a bit of this,’ he said out loud.

It was a poolhouse, but most people would have been proud to have it as their main residence. The door opened onto a lounge with comfy looking furniture. Next to the lounge, was a luxury shower room, sauna and a small kitchenette. Jamie did a little dance over to the fridge, forgetting the pain in his leg for a moment and, oh my God, ice cold beers.

He was sure now he had died when the AV hit him and he had now arrived in a heaven invented just for him. He pinched himself hard. It wasn’t even cheap home-brewed beer, it was the almost-extinct foreign stuff.

He popped the cap, using his fist and the hardwood coffee table, then he downed half the bottle in one greedy slurp. Nectar, ambrosia, liquid paradise. His head fizzed and his body relaxed. He lay on one of the striped sofas, sighing as he took the weight off his injured leg. Draining the bottle, he opened a second and began tucking into a party-sized packet of crisps that lay on the table. He hadn’t eaten crisps for half a lifetime. He tasted artificial flavourings, combined with excessive salt and his taste buds went crazy.

Sod the berry bar, he thought, beer and crisps are the way to go. I’ll just finish these and then I’m going to try out the shower, get some hot water on my poor neglected skin. He smiled to himself and wriggled comfortably into the sofa. Pretty soon, he was asleep.

Skye was most definitely upset. Luc had as good as rejected her and she felt stupid and humiliated. He had unconvincingly faked tiredness and gone back to bed, but she could tell he wasn’t really tired, tired of her more like. She allowed a few tears to fall and kicked her legs half-heartedly against the side of the pool. She knew she should probably go back to bed, but a small spark of hope within her thought maybe Luc would change his mind and come back out to her.

She sat there for ages, dangling her legs in the water, until she realised she was shivering. She was freezing cold in fact. She swung her legs out of the pool and stood up stiffly, deciding to warm herself up with a hot shower in the poolhouse.

She’d have to pretend tonight hadn’t happened. She couldn’t have borne it if she and Luc were no longer friends and so she decided she’d have to wait a while before she made a move on him. It was probably her age putting him off. Once she hit sixteen, he would declare his undying love for her, she was sure of it.

Skye opened the poolhouse door and walked through the darkened lounge, to the large, tiled shower room. A strange, stale smell permeated the air, but she only noticed it on the edge of her consciousness, she was too preoccupied with her thoughts. She pulled the shower room light switch, stripped off her bikini and stepped into the large glass octagonal shower unit. The hot water felt amazing on her cold, clammy, prune-like skin and she stood there for ages, letting the water heal her tender heart and her bruised ego.

Reluctantly, she turned off the jets and reached for a towel, feeling suddenly exhausted and longing for her bed. Then she froze. What was that? She heard a thud, like something falling on the floor, followed by… a snore?

‘Hello?’ she tentatively called out. Who would be sleeping in the poolhouse?

She tiptoed into the main room in her bare feet. It was dark, but the light shone into the lounge from the shower room. She made out the form of someone unfamiliar lying on one of the sofas. Before she could stop herself, she gave a scream, instantly waking the person from their illegal slumber. It was a man, an outsider from the look of him. He was wild-looking, filthy, with matted hair and now she had unwittingly woken him up.

Jamie must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, he was awoken by a high-pitched scream. He jumped up, quickly realising where he was. Years of travelling around strange, inhospitable places, had meant his mind was always finely tuned to his surroundings, whether awake or asleep.

He saw a young, naked girl backing away from him, groping around for her towel, which lay on the floor. The light from the shower room made him blink and he tried to refocus. He felt oddly fuzzy and strange, realising he must be slightly drunk.

‘Listen!’ He tried to think how he could stop this girl from landing him in trouble. ‘I won’t hurt you.’ But his voice sounded gruff and hoarse, even to his own ears. The girl started to scream again. She wrapped the towel around her and tried to run past the sofa, where Jamie stood. He grabbed at her, to stop her from leaving.

‘Calm down,’ he said, catching hold of her wrists, so her towel dropped onto the floor again. His damaged shoulder burned with the effort of holding her. She had a great body, but he wished she’d shut up. He was thankful the main house was set so far back from here, but any of the guards could walk past at any moment and hear her screams. He finally managed to get a hand over her mouth which she promptly bit, pushing him away from her with her one free hand.

‘Jesus, you bitch,’ he gasped, as her teeth sank into his flesh and a searing pain flashed through his already throbbing shoulder. She ran towards the door, picking up his bundle of possessions to try to cover her nakedness. At least she’d stopped screaming for a second.

‘My stuff!’ he shouted and lunged towards her to try and grab his bundle back. She yelped and dropped the bundle. Whilst he was reaching down to retrieve it, the girl grabbed an empty beer bottle from the floor and smashed the bottom of it against the wall, holding it in front of her, like a weapon.

‘Don’t come any closer,’ she trembled, ‘or I’ll slash you.’

‘Look,’ said Jamie, raising his hands, but still holding onto his possessions. ‘I was just sleeping here, but I’ll go. I don’t want any trouble. Just let me go. I won’t hurt you.’

But the girl was backing towards the closed door and, if he didn’t stop her escaping, she’d alert the whole perimeter and then he’d be done for. He calculated the distance, dropped his bundle and lunged towards her, finding his hands around her slim, white throat. She slashed up at his chin and he felt a stinging pain as he saw his blood drip down onto the wooden floor. But he pushed her back at arm’s length, so she couldn’t reach his face with the bottle.

The problem was he was doing her some serious damage – she was choking. Finally she was forced to drop the bottle, to try and prise his hands from around her neck, and so at last he could release her, shoving her away from him. But the force of this push sent her flying backwards into the door, crashing through the stained glass window and clutching at her throat, her eyes bulging in her head.

The noise was terrific and Jamie expected half the Perimeter to come running at any moment. She sat there, inside the empty doorframe, in shock, covered in splintered wood and coloured glass. They stared, dazed, at one another.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jamie looked down at the naked, gasping figure. She was bleeding all over from hundreds of tiny glass cuts and, with the fragments of stained glass, her white skin looked like it was encrusted with sparkling precious jewels.

‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you okay? Stupid question. I have to go. I can’t get caught here, they’ll kill me. You’ll be alright.’ He was panicking. She seemed okay to him, just a bit shocked and messed up.

He heard a small creaking sound and looked up to where it emanated from – the top of the doorframe. She followed his line of vision upwards, tipping her head back, just in time to see a large shard of blue glass sky fall out of the frame and drop, with deadly accuracy, into her throat.

Her eyes moved downwards and locked onto Jamie’s, they widened momentarily. She opened her mouth and tried to speak but, instead, warm blood frothed from her lips. She fell backwards and lay awkwardly across the doorframe, half in and half out of the poolhouse. The glass shard still protruded grotesquely from her throat and blood pumped from the wound, quickly pooling around her lifeless body.

‘No,’ he exhaled as he realised she was past saving and he had better get as far away from there as he could. He gathered up his blood-soaked bundle and the remaining contents of the fridge, scanning for anything else that may be of use to him.

He decided to break the habit of a lifetime and travel by night. He would aim to reach the Boscombe Compound as soon as he could, hopefully before dawn, although it would be tough going with his banged up leg. If anyone asked, he would say he spent the night outside Boscombe’s walls.

Hopefully, the girl from the Poole Shanty would already be inside Boscombe Compound and he’d charm her into accompanying him to London. He’d make something up – the promise of a great job once they got there, or something. He didn’t plan on ever coming back.