Autumn

For some reason Michael decided to try and sleep in another room. He and Emma had slept in the same room every night since they’d arrived at Pe

Twenty minutes later Emma (who had also been unable to sleep and who had become understandably concerned when she’d heard noises downstairs) tiptoed into the living room. Finding Michael curled up in a ball on a rug in front of the fire she reached out and gently shook his shoulder.

‘Fucking hell!’ he screamed out, spi

Taken aback by the unexpected strength of his reaction, Emma sat down on the nearest chair. She brought her knees up under her backside and consciously tried to shrink her body down to the smallest possible size. In spite of the fire the house was still bitterly cold.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘You looked like you were asleep.’

‘You’re joking aren’t you? I haven’t slept a bloody wink all night.’

‘Me neither.’

Michael finished his drink, stretched and looked around the living room. The house felt much bigger tonight – perhaps even too big – and Carl’s sudden leaving was the obvious reason why that seemed to be the case. The room they sat in was filled with random flickering shadows from the fire, trapped indoors as the curtains at all of the windows had been drawn tightly shut. The survivors were afraid to let even the thi

Michael glanced over at Emma sitting curled up on the chair. She looked tired and sad. Her eyes were heavy and she was deep in thought.

‘Come here,’ he said warmly, holding out his arms to her.

Not needing any further encouragement, she slid down from the chair and sat next to him. He gently put his arms round her shoulders and pulled her close. He lightly kissed the top of her head and held her tight.

‘It’s bloody cold tonight,’ she whispered.

‘You tired?’ he asked.

‘Knackered,’ she admitted. ‘You?’

‘The same. Can’t sleep though.’

‘Nor me. Too much going round my mind. I can’t switch off.’

‘Don’t need to ask what you’re thinking about, do I?’

She shook her head.

‘Not really. Difficult to think about anything else, isn’t it?’

Michael held her a little tighter still.

‘Just wish he’d stopped,’ he said, his voice suddenly sounding unexpectedly strained and cracked with emotion. ‘I still think I should have stopped him. I should have locked the stupid bastard in his room and not let him leave. I should have…’

‘Shh…’ Emma whispered. She pulled back slightly from Michael to allow herself to look deep into his eyes. The low orange flames of the fire highlighted glistening tears which ran freely down his face. ‘There was nothing that either of us could have done and talking like this is just pointless, we’ve already had this conversation. We both know we would have done more harm than good if we’d tried to stop him…’

‘I just wish he was here now…’ Michael continued, having to force his words out between sobs and deep breaths of air.

‘I know,’ she whispered, her voice soothing and low.

The two friends held each other tightly again. After a brief moment of awkwardness and reluctance they finally both began to cry freely. For the first time since they had lost everything on that desperate autumn morning two weeks ago, they both dropped their guard, relaxed and cried. They cried for all they had lost and left behind, they cried for their absent friend and they cried for each other.

The unexpected and much needed outpouring of emotion which Emma and Michael shared acted as a relief valve – diffusing otherwise insurmountable pressure, soothing troubled minds and breaking down u

‘You know,’ Michael yawned, lying on his back and watching the shadows flickering on the ceiling, ‘I’d have bought a house like this if I could have afforded it.’

Emma, lying at right angles to him with her head resting on his stomach, smiled to herself.

‘Me too.’

‘Really?’ he asked, lifting himself up onto his elbows and looking across at her.

‘Yes, really,’ she replied. ‘It’s a dream house, isn’t it. A lick of paint and it could be beautiful.’

He sighed and yawned again.

‘Apart from half a fucking million rotting bodies on the other side of the fence it’s okay, isn’t it,’ he mumbled sarcastically.

Emma ignored him. She tried to stifle a yawn but couldn’t.

‘I’m tired,’ she said.

‘Want to go to bed?’ he asked.

‘No point. I won’t sleep.’

‘Me neither.’

His elbows aching, Michael lay back down again. He scratched the side of his face and then rubbed his chin. He hadn’t shaved for three or four days. He couldn’t remember exactly how long it had been but it didn’t seem to matter. He put his hands behind his head and basked in front of the fire.

‘If it wasn’t for the bodies,’ he said, his voice quiet, ‘then I could put up with this.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t get me wrong, I wish everything was back as it was,’ he explained. ‘All I’m saying is that I could deal with it all a lot better if the dead bodies had stayed dead. I can handle there being only a handful of us left, I’m just having trouble coping with the fact that it’s a constant fucking battle.’

‘It’s not a battle.’

‘Yes it is,’ he insisted. ‘Of course it is. If we want food then we have to fight for it. We have to sneak out, grab as much as we can and then sneak back like bloody mice. If we want heat and light then we have to be ready to be surrounded by those frigging things outside. It’s a fucking battle and it’s not fair.’

For a second Michael sounded like a spoilt child. But Emma knew that he was right and she agreed with everything he said. Had it not been punishment enough to have lost everything that ever mattered to them? Why now did they have to continue to suffer like this?

‘And what really gets me,’ he continued, ‘is the fact that the bloody things are already dead. You can’t kill them. I bet if you put a fucking bullet between their eyes they’d still keep coming at you.’

Emma didn’t respond. She knew it was important for him to talk but this was a conversation that she didn’t particularly want to prolong. She reminded herself that it was obviously doing Michael good. For too long they had each kept their fears and emotions bottled up for fear of upsetting the other two and disturbing the fragile peace and shelter that they’d found at Pe