Chapter 3

Gift Horse

"Well, you'll need to borrow a car and provisions." Ali looked uncomfortable. Arthur had come up asking her for advice on getting into the city. "And the city's not what it used to be. It's a deathtrap, now. Kyle and I went a while ago to get some things. I'm surprised we made it out at all."

"I need to go there, Ali. You don't understand. I'm not going for a sorry jaunt. I have things I need to do, promises I made a terribly long time ago that are past overdue."

She frowned at him. "Why? You could stay here and live. Why would you throw yourself into danger so willingly?"

"I have to." Arthur began to feel anger rising up in him. Bitter. "Look, your life is all perfect here, I know, but it's not mine."

Ali began to grow red. She turned away towards the kitchen. He heard rummaging and the slamming of drawers. He exchanged a look with Kyle who only shrugged. He went towards Ali who was tossing things haphazardly towards Arthur's rucksack, which he had left on the table. She glanced at him bitterly.

"You want to go, you'll… You'll die you idiot."

She unlocked a lower drawer and rifled through a heavy load of things Arthur couldn't quite see. She picked up something in a cloth cover. A gun. She pointed it towards Arthur who seized up immediately. He held his hands up and she laughed bitterly. Tossing it aside, she approached him. And administered a hard slap to his face, one that vibrated.

"I told you you're a fucking idiot."

"Why did you hit me? You're trying to kill me!" Arthur rubbed his cheek. She kicked his shins, sending him stumbling back.

"Because you'd die in two seconds out there. You bleeding asshole. You're old and weak. You stopped when you saw a gun? You should have run or moved instead of standing there like some sort of rabbit! And you're stumbling from these light pinches?" She punched his chest, sending him staggering further back. Kyle rushed over.

Standing between them, his hands out, he turned on Ali. "What the bloody hell are you doing? He's your friend!"

"I don't make friends with stupid shit like him." Tears had begun to spring into her eyes, much to Arthur's surprise.

"I didn't know you felt that way about me." Arthur said. He approached her, touching her stiff shoulders.

"I did. And now you don't even remember me." She hissed at him.

"What?" he exchanged a look with Kyle who offered only a firm gaze. Kyle took Ali by the shoulders and walked her off. Arthur took the chance. He grabbed his things, along with one of the spare keys Ali had tossed in her tantrum. He shrugged the bag on. His new clothing, Kyle's hand-me-downs, did prove more comfortable than the suit he had come so far wearing. Although, it did partially pose the scarred design on his upper shoulder. In the Build he had been so careful to hide it. But this was freeing. He considered taking another pair as he heard footsteps approaching him. He began to walk out the door, brushing past the mosquito curtains.

Now he just had to find which car the key belonged to. He walked towards the lot where several of them, in varying states, were parked. Some slumped, really.

"Stop."

Arthur turned, despite himself.

Ali stood before him, alone.

"My name is Alice." She said.

"Well, that is a nice name."

"No. You really can't remember? I remember you. Clearly." She approached him, brushing her strangely cut hair out of her face. She stared up at him, standing a good bit shorter. Her eyes were the same emerald shade as his own, but puffy with distress. "You've been gone for so long."

A sparkle of recognition fluttered inside of him.

She touched his arm. Where she touched it burned horribly. Arthur almost withdrew but something held him firmly in place. The pain crawled up his arm. Before him, Alice seemed to grow weaker and older.

She said softly, "I had hoped you'd remember. As if that would give you your youth back."

"I haven't been young in a long time."

"Yes, but you haven't ever been this old. Something's happened to you. You saw Kyle. He's so young. And it's been centuries. You, it's like the life's getting sucked out of you."

Arthur started to tug his hand away. The pain was becoming unbearable. He felt like he would retch again. "Stop…" Alice gripped him tighter.

"I thought I could protect you. I thought if you remembered who I am you'd remember who you are. We're so similar. The very fibre of us is the same. And then you could know what you're getting yourself into. You wouldn't risk dying." She let go harshly. "Cheers." Her body was thinner beneath the heavy pants and shirt. Arthur felt the burning lap up his head and throat, burning like alcohol. "If you die, I die."

"You selfish…" Arthur grimaced. She'd given him something. He felt stronger, lighter. And he felt more capable, too. Selfish was not what he should have called her.

"We made a pact. Can't you remember even that?"

"Vaguely." Something distant glimmered in his mind. Vague, abstract. A pact? An oath? These were old terms that barely woke in his mind. But the images shattered when she sighed. She rubbed the ends of her hair.

"I had long hair before. It was beautiful and golden. They called me a princess and I ate it all up. It's only when all of this happened that I chopped it off. You know things' importance diminish when your world ends…

"Just go. Come back and we won't be here." She turned away. Her shoulders spiked with anger. "And it's the red car."

She paused. Arthur couldn't think of what to say to her.

"I wasn't kidding about the city or trying to scare you. It really is a death trap."

. . .

And it was.

And he hadn't even entered it yet.

Boredom fell away when he reached it. He had been trying to listen to the rest of the recordings as he drove, but all he ended up hearing was static and the tune of a corrupted file.

The city had been reduced to rubble. Nary few buildings stood. Some tall and old brick ones still crept towards the sky. Arthur could see that even as he drove up. He could also hear gunshots and screams. Movement littered the city, where plumes of smoke leapt into the air. The acrid smell had not met Arthur yet. He gripped the steering wheel, hesitantly accelerating. The sooner he could get in and out, the better for—

CRACK

Something hit his window. Arthur slowed down. A spot of impact was left on his rear window, spreading out like a cobweb on the dirty glass.

WHACK WHACK WHACK

Arthur wasn't sure whether to stay or leave the car. His heart raced. More spiralling shards of broken glass appeared, some on his back windows as well. He saw figures approaching from all sides. Mutants and people alike. A body slammed against his side of the car, sending the suspension rocking. A woman's face had broken against the window. Her crushed nose and splintered bones slid down the window, followed by grossly matted hair. Her eyes bulged as they fell out of sight. Arthur reached around for his gun.

What he really needed was some help. Anything. He hoped another squeal of tires would come his way and Alice would rejoin his group. But nothing sounded but the groans and calls. Arthur had to fend for himself. Tears began to ooze out of his eyes. He fought them back, bracing himself. With his bag tucked securely into his jacket and his gun at ready, Arthur stopped the car. Another body came crashing towards him. Where they suicides or murders? Arthur had no time to ponder. He slammed the door open on another figure that approached him, hearing a thunk. Arthur slid out of the car quickly, rushing in the direction of the city. A few bodies littered his way. His heavy boots crunched past them, making his stomach churn. But he had no time to throw up, and nothing in him to spare, either. Someone began running towards him, a sentient person.

"Rrrrrrr?" The person called, or more like garbled, raising a pipe. The man hobbled after him, his starved legs exerting with the effort. His hair was half shaved and his eyes were all crazy. His cheeks puffed out, swollen. Arthur turned and shot him in the knees. The man let out a yelp and crumbled forwards, tossing his pipe. He twitched horribly. The pipe bounced off Arthur's own knee and sent a spike of pain he had no choice but to ignore. He continued running.

"Gerrr 'em!" Another voice screeched. Arthur glanced over his shoulder, terrified to see another group of men and women rushing him. Behind them, a few were left to ransack his car. Their sunken cheeks twisted in grins. Foam dripped out of their mouths.

They were starving.

Did they want Arthur's food or did they want Arthur to be food? Maybe they just wanted to rob him or kill him. Arthur really did not want to be someone's lunch.

Whatever their reason, he was horribly outnumbered. Another propelled piece of — was it rock? — Flew past his ear. The people behind him chanted incoherently. These people had reached the end of their wits. They had somehow survived on killing and possibly cannibalism. Another rock hit Arthur square in the back and he stumbled forwards, turning and holding out the gun. It shook before him. He couldn't possibly aim.

Which was another short lived thought. Something else was hunting both him and the group of starving people. Some sort of creature. It stomped forth and swooped up a group of people, slamming them to the ground with its massive, veiny arms. It howled in what seemed like agony. Arthur let out a petrified and somewhat shrill scream.

The thing.

It wasn't something he could even focus on. Its ribcage lay bare to the world, rising and falling in its flesh netting with each bloody breath it took. The misshapen face swung around, its oblong chin, sideways and scattered with teeth, grinding with an effort to make noise. Arthur continued to move. The people before him were stopped by another heavy blow. The man in front of him fell, the arm swinging his body down and grasping it by the neck, smashing the man by his head. Arthur became splattered with pink debris. He stumbled to the ground.

The creature howled again. The people began to either race towards it in a manic or in attack. Two of those such attackers were also picked up in one fell swoop by their legs, and smashed into the ground. The creature, a man by vague means, stopped to put some sort of gore into its mouth. It chewed hungrily, sniffing about. Its eyes were shut with lumps of overgrown skin.

It couldn't see.

Arthur trembled before it. Did it have enhanced hearing or smell? What could Arthur even do to protect himself? He scooted back a bit, his hands slick with blood he had touched on the ground. The creature swung at him.

"Smell…" It groaned. The voice sounded like grinding bones. Arthur's ears hurt to hear it. "Smell…"

It slammed a fist down near Arthur. Arthur swallowed another scream. He doubted his gun would do anything to defend against the behemoth.

"Not… Smell food…"

It paused, sulking before Arthur. It ripped the arm off another fallen body and shoved it into its mouth, turning away to the food. It didn't seem to care for Arthur. Maybe he just didn't smell meaty enough.

Arthur scrambled to his feet and started running.

Which was not a good idea. Even if he was not food, he was still a threat. Arthur held his gun before him and aimed. His breath came raggedly.

POP POP POP POP

He wasted two bullets before the last one hit its ear. He shot another towards its nose. It spiralled back, heavy feet thumping. The feet were gnarled, Arthur noticed. It could not run. Its only advantage was in its breadth of step. Arthur began to jog this time. His sides hurt with a splintering stitch. If he pushed himself any further, the dangers of the city would eat him up.

The creature, befuddled by the smell of blood and loss of hearing, slumped to the ground. It howled in pain, slapping the earth for some sense of direction.

Arthur felt bad for it.

He crossed a threshold to the city, where the small rubble stood. The fringes of the city. Somehow it had survived the attack. The land around it had not been so fortunate. Yet, looking at what once had been his home, his heart hurt. He stopped to breathe, standing in the shadow of a leaning wall. He looked around, towards the centre. Towards where a dried up river gaped into the earth like a burn scar. He looked at the fallen bridges around him, the destroyed homes, the hopeless structures now reduced to skeletons. He began to scrape the blood off his hands.

Tiny memories floated by in his head. Tiny, insignificant things.

There, he had walked a dog he once bought on impulse. The small puppy yelped at every passerby happily. Here, a tree once stood. It was great and massive. Here, he helped a student pick up her books. There, by the river, he helped a group of ducklings settle back into the water.

The unpleasant bubbles of memory formed too.

The war, the older one. The sirens. The howling in the night that petrified people walking by. The centre of the city with its great tolling bells. The tears he shed when he knew it would be the last time he would ever hear it.

Arthur felt tears finally leak down his cheeks. He wiped them away gruffly, smearing blood as he did so. He felt repulsion at that and wondered where he could find water.

And, come to think of it, he hadn't seen a single source of running water in the entire time he was outside. All the water he found was still in bottles or cans.

Something must be blocking what once was the River Thames, then, if it was so barren. It connected to the ocean. At least it did.

Arthur felt a shudder. He realised that this was no longer London. It was what once was London, a corpse, rotting and defiled. All the buildings that stood no longer held artefacts or shopping malls. Other, darker secrets stood here. He knew where he had to go. Old Big Ben. Even if it no longer stood, it didn't matter. What he needed lay just beneath.

Arthur began to set off in that direction, having calmed his breathing and pumping heart. He glanced at the buildings and instantly regretted it. It had become a graveyard. Burned, empty skeletons sat alongside tumorous corpses, laying along walls and scattered like dead flowers. These people hadn't been spared anything. Their shadows were painted behind them. These bodies no one seemed to have touched. But was only the outside. There was another shelter later on. Arthur recalled this vividly. And seeing what the people just outside had displayed, he didn't doubt that another monstrosity would befall him here.

He needed a better weapon than just a gun. His rucksack didn't have much for that. Perhaps Alice considered the gun sufficient. Or she doubted his upper body strength. If he could get something as simple as club he'd be fine. But, with his body, a machine gun or bazooka would be better.

After some time, he paused.

A light flickered near his feet.

Someone was singing, the words inaudible.

He'd never heard a song like that before. Or a voice so sweet. The lights were coming out from a door beneath the street, leading into a place with a happy lady as its sign. Arthur pushed the door open.

A handful of people sat around at tables, bartering. At the front a woman was singing. She sat at the edge of the stage. Her song dissolved into a lilting hum before coming back to words. Arthur looked around, seeing if anyone had any clubs or pipes or whatever. He realised he should have taken the lead pipe from the stranger earlier. But he had had no choice.

"Five knives? You're out of your bleeding mind."

"It can't be worth any more. What's on there?"

"Good stuff, sir, good stuff."

"Porn can't be worth more than these knives. These are good knives."

The man shoved the pack of leather-bound knives forwards. Arthur stopped at that table. A few wary glances were thrown his way. The blood and its smell must be deterring, Arthur realised vaguely. The singing woman was moving through the crowd now, flashing her glittering dress. Eyes went to her instead. She spared Arthur a glance which he did not notice nor return.

The woman who was doing the trades glowered at the knife man and shoved it back. "No thanks. I dug it out myself. It was buried deep. Good tech here. I don't want some damn pervert to abuse his poor limp dick with this."

Arthur glanced at the traded object. It was a hard drive.

A very, very familiar hard drive.

And it had an insignia on it. Faded, but still there. The sign of the Committee.

"I need that." He barged in. "I believe, miss, that this is mine."

The woman growled at him, shoving it closer to him. The man had lost interest and was moving on. Another man had a selection of dirty magazines on display along with stacks of yellowed books. More his taste anyway, Arthur thought.

"Yours my arse, bloody face."

Arthur lowered the sleeve of his shirt and showed off a tattoo.

"See? Same as the one there." He pointed at it: stars bound by a wreath, held by an olive branch.

"Fanatic I see."

She nodded.

"So can I have it? For the good of England, for the nations."

"What are you going on about? What the fuck is an 'England'?"

"For the good of Britain! Your home."

"You don't know shit about my home. You trade or I don't give you anything. We have a rule here, old man. You're new here so I'll let you in on a secret." She grinned and leaned forwards. "You trade you leave. Or you don't come at all. I have half a mind to kick you out with that gore crap on you."

Arthur sighed. He needed that hard drive. It was an important piece of information, no matter what it held.

"Fine." He dug around his bag. He brushed the headpiece. His first find from the world above. It wasn't much use. It could only play the first recordings anyway. And where he was going, he'd find something else to play the rest. He held it forwards. Her eyebrows arched, the studs along them rising as well.

"Anything special about this?" She picked them up by the earpieces.

"They were developed in the Enviro-Build. State of the art."

She laughed out loud. "Enviro-Build? That's rich. At least you got a sense of humour, old man."

"You don't like the Enviro-Builds?"

"About as much as you'd like any other cruel joke. You heard the stories. They're death machines and cult breeding chambers. Those who went in never came out. Say the computer went faulty. Or, I heard a rumour," she leaned closer again, "That they never really existed. All just a rumour."

"Ah, I see." Arthur smiled weakly. What happened in the other Builds? What went wrong? He had hoped to ask about the mutant creatures. But it wasn't the place. He didn't want to seem too alien. They might attack him, too. "So, can I have the drive?"

"No."

"You're robbing me. Isn't this enough proof?" He pointed again the the scarred tattoo on his chest.

"I didn't run up and snatch it. I found this. Why would you bury it, anyway?"

"You're being bothersome."

"No, I'm being a good trader. Now, how about this, you complete a task for me and I give it to you."

"How do I know you won't trade it off?"

"I'll take the weird 'Build' shit as compensation." She picked up the headpiece and examined it. "It is fascinating. I'd like to take it apart."

"Fine. What do you want me to do?" Arthur watched her warily.

"Go to the Crazy King." She laughed.

"What?"

"Go to the Scott King, up up north. You can take a train there. If you can find one. And then rob the old palace blind of all its rich cloths and treasures and anything you can get."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, that's put it this way. Are you really prepared to do anything for this thing?" She waved the hard drive before him. Its insignia glittered. "You seem desperate."

"Because I want it back."

"Yeah, ok. Anyway, if you're really wanting it, I'll hold on to it for you for two weeks. If you come back then with something of value, not a train load I was only joking, then I give it to you in exchange."

"How is that piece of computer worth a two week journey into the dangerous hell-scape?"

"Nice angle, but no, old man. I know it's worth the world to you. I can see it in your eyes. And fair is fair. As compensation, I'll take your headpiece and lead you in the direction."

"How is that fair? What will you give me."

"Directions."

"That's not enough." Arthur was growing annoyed with the conversation. She only grinned back at him.

"Got me there. Come along." She gathered her trading goods into a sack, heaving it over her shoulder. She nodded to the songstress who now swayed between a group of men who had almost started fighting. Now they distractedly argued, throwing vulgar winks her way. Better than blows. Arthur had to admire the technique.

She exited the tavern with Arthur in tow. The walked out of the street, her boots clicking against the stone. She held out a hand, "I'm Grim."

Grim. Didn't he know that name?

"Do you have a cabin, then, Grim?"

"No. My brother does. The other Grim." She fell sombre for a bit and then smiled anyway. "My first name is Emma but I think Grim is much better for a salesperson. So I took his name. Sort of a postmortem gift."

"I see. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Nah, he was a bastard anyway. The commute back and forth got him good."

"Oh… So what are you giving me?" Arthur changed the subject.

"A mode of transportation. There is a train station but the rails are fucked up like shards of ribbon." Grim made a twisting motion with her hands. "But horses can go fast. Especially the ones I want to show you. Here," she paused. Arthur heard the clopping of hooves on stones. Horses? How the hell did horses survive?

Except, they hadn't.

The horses drew a carriage led by an elderly man. Grim waved.

"Get over here."

The horses that drew it were not very much alive. They moved deftly, shaking their manes. But their sides were sucked in, clinging to the bones beneath. One was a bruised yellow colour, its mane strangled in the few places it remained. The other had more hair, but not by much, and was a dull shade of blue. That one nickered when it saw Arthur. He didn't feel quite as scared by it. Not that he should feel scared. A giant monster had attacked him only a few hours before. The yellow one had a braid in its tail and talismans dangling from it. The man stopped in front of them.

"A ride?" The man asked.

"Yes, out towards the Ranch. Sit in front, Arnold."

"It's Arthur." He tried to correct, but she had already crawled behind the man. He climbed up, sitting behind the blue horse. It huffed at him. The man grunted.

"Gritsy usually goes an' kicks whoever's sitting behind her. Bucks 'em good."

"Ah, thank you." He tried for a smile but the man only seemed confused.

They drove on for a while, through the winding streets and avoiding the fallen buildings. Arthur watched the city bob alongside them. Grim was making small talk with the man, who only offered grunts in response. Eventually she gave up on him and began looking through her things. She picked up the headpiece and started to fiddle with it. The horses snorted occasionally.

At one point they stopped besides a building, not far off from the ruins of Big Ben. They stood, breathing and looking about. Arthur watched curiously. The man took the time to stretch.

"Do they need water or food?"

"That's what they're doing, sort of." Grim spoke up.

The man nodded. "Aye. Sniffing the radiation, whatever's left. Keeps 'em going."

The horses resumed their trot onwards. The sky steadily drew towards evening about them. The sun had all but set by the time they reached a ranch. For all their deadness, the horses did move fast. Arthur slid off along with Grim and went towards the blue horse, Gritsy. She sniffed and nudged his shoulder. Arthur dug around in his pack and found nothing to give. Instead he patted her muzzle, feeling the surprising softness of it. She leaned her heads towards him. Her one blind eye focused elsewhere, but her good eye - bold and brown - focused intently on him.

"He's bonded." The man said.

"I was going to take him to the ranch." Grim said. "I guess he's taken. I'll buy her off you. We have a deal."

"She kicked my other carriage and broke its suspension. Give me enough for a new, good horse." The man seemed relieved. He unbuckled the horse, standing off to the side. "If she doesn't run, that is…"

And she didn't. Arthur stood just as surprised as the man."Thank you."

The man waved him off.

Grim turned back to Arthur. The man and his yellow horse started going towards a lit barn off towards the distance. "You keep heading North and you'll see it. It's a castle. My brother made a trip up there once but whatever he saw scared him bad. Or confused him, and he doesn't talk of things unless he gets them completely. But he came unscathed and with a chalice. A chalice, believe that? So bring me something like that in under a week—"

"You said two weeks."

"—Two weeks, fine, and I give you the hard drive. Easiest thing."

Arthur agreed to it, shaking her bony hand. She stood off to wait for the man to come back and be her ride. Arthur turned to his new friend. He had no idea how to take care of her, but her instincts seemed strong. Maybe that would be enough.

"Just you and me now, girl."

. . .

Riding the horse had come to him naturally. He squeezed with his legs tight and did not grab her mane. He bounced as she did, his body adjusting easily. It came more easily even than driving. And driving had blinked back into his brain.

But this, this was liberating. He felt like he was soaring, and she must have too. She took long, broad strides and galloped. He hair brushed past him. Although it was, Arthur admitted, eerie to feel the shrunken fresh at his calves and occasionally hear a thumping sound that was a very slow, sluggish heartbeat.

Soon they had to stop. Arthur felt exhaustion draining him. He had hoped for a pond or lake, but only empty ones were around him. Even a dead tree would be of some comfort. Night had fallen thickly around them. The stars glittered like hard gems. Arthur looked for some place to park, urging Gritsy to slow to an amble.

Eventually he found a secluded forested area, albeit all the trees were but scorched corpses. He settled there, sliding off his horse. She sniffed the air about him before settling down too.

Even though the memory had returned, his muscles did not reappear. He legs were sore and blistering. He rubbed them softly, watching Gritsy settle down.

Arthur lay on his bag like a bulky pillow. "I thought horses slept standing." He joked.

She nickered at him, laying her head down. She watched him closely. She almost seemed to smile.

He slept for what felt like a blink. A blink that ended with a sharp kick to his head.