10
The meal has been eaten. Rhys sits, playing with his radio, trying to listen to the faint broadcast. Beside him, Anwen lies on her back, eyes closed. Ianto and Jack have walked a little distance away from the others, and are sitting on a fence gate, looking over the view.
"You know what I was thinking?" Ianto asks.
Jack considers this a moment. "You were thinking that you'll never hear another piece of original music ever again. You'll never read a book that isn't already written. Or see a film that isn't already shot."
Ianto smiles. "That's what you were thinking."
"No... I was thinking I was wrong." Jack whispers.
"About what?"
Jack doesn't reply for a moment. Then he turns to look at Rhys and Anwen - who look oddly normal, surrounded by the food wrappers from the picnic, Rhys listening to the radio. In that moment Ianto finally sees the real man, reaching out to hook his hand and squeeze gently for encouragement. "It's OK. I see you. You are real. You feel me. I am real. We are still OK. Tell me."
"All the death, all the shit - it doesn't really mean anything for Rhys and Anwen. Because she's got her dad, and he's got his daughter, so... it's okay." A beat. Jack looks back at Ianto "I was wrong when I told you that staying alive is as good as it gets."
Ianto smiles "That's what I was thinking."
" ...Was it?"
"Uh-huh. You stole my thought." Ianto snorts.
Jack leans over and gives Ianto a light kiss on the cheek, smiling back at Ianto "Sorry."
Slightly surprised, but pleased Ianto blushes "Ah, keep it. The payment was more than enough"
Rhys switches off the radio. He looks over at Anwen, who is dozing peacefully, then over to Ianto and Jack. "It's getting late. We should stay here the night."
Ianto raises a hand in reply.
.
.
.
The cab sits, parked up at the picnic spot. Ianto, Jack, Rhys and Anwen lie beside it, wrapped in their jackets, using their small backpacks as pillows. The moon is bright, and only Jack is asleep...
"Can't sleep." Anwen sighs into the darkness.
"Nor can I." Ianto replies softly "It doesn't feel safe, outdoors like this."
"I think we're safe enough." Rhys shushes them.
A couple of moments pass. Anwen notes "...Jack didn't seem to have any trouble."
"I know. I noticed that too." Ianto frowns reaching over and shaking Jack's shoulder "Jack...Jack!"
Jack is extremely drowsy "What... what is it..."
"How did you manage to get to sleep?"
Jack gives a dozy grumble, then sits up, reaches into his backpack, and pulls out several bottles of pills. he hands one of them to Ianto.
"Bloody hell. You must have needed a hell of a prescription for that lot" Rhys splutters.
Jack replies drowsily "I didn't need a prescription. I'm a qualified chemist."
he drops back down and goes straight back to sleep.
Inspecting the bottle Ianto snorts "Valium. Great. Not only will it get us to sleep, but if we get attacked during the night, we won't even care. (pops the lid)Two each?"
"Not for me, thanks." Rhys sniffs.
Indicating Anwen Ianto asks "What about...?"
"Can I, Dad?"
Rhys is doubtful "I don't know, honey."
"Da-ad, plee-ease. I can't sleep."
"All right, all right." Rhys relents "Give her half of one."
Ianto hands it over and slips the bottle into his pocket to give Jack when he is awake.
.
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..
IANTO'S VALIUM DREAM
Ianto is riding his bike through the city. It's London back to normal, pre-infection. Busy streets, traffic, pedestrians, car horns, radios playing. Ianto rides fast, his courier bag over his shoulder, weaving between cars, shooting a red light, turning a corner into...Gower Street. Suddenly, a car pulls out into Ianto's path. The car brakes hard, and Ianto brakes hard, skidding...and the two miss each other by a whisker. The Driver flashes into road rage. "You stupid cunt!"
"Fuck you!"
The Driver flips Ianto the finger, and accelerates away. Ianto remains stopped by the pavement, one foot down for balance, breathing hard. Pedestrians pass. Groups of people, everyday people, walking watches them, noticing their faces. Some talk to each other, or into mobile phones. Some smile, or walk lost in thought. After a few moments, Ianto sets off again, seemingly distracted, still watching pedestrians' faces...then two of the faces seem to catch his attention. A man and a woman, middle-aged, chatting. His parents. Ianto's head turns as he passes them, confusion on his face, his bike drifting into another lane...into the path of a second car. The car that hit him..
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.
.
"Hey." Rhys' hand is on Ianto's shoulder. Ianto stirs, half-wakes.
Ianto is confused, semi-conscious "What..."
Rhys is sitting beside him - and we see for the first time that Rhys is awake, keeping guard over them while they sleep. "SShh. You're having a bad dream, that's all."
Ianto's face relaxes a little. He mumbles, half-asleep already "Okay, Dad."
Rhys raises his eyebrows, and then smiles.
.
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EARLY MORNING
Ianto is sitting up. The others are all awake. Rhys bouncing the repaired flat tire to check it, Anwen slipping on a fresh sweatshirt from her backpack, Jack leaning against the cab, chewing on a chocolate bar.
"Here you go, Rhys. This is how you catch dew. I'm covered in the fucking stuff." Ianto huffs.
"Okay. Let's get rolling." Packing the spare away Rhys grins as he checks his watch "If we make good time, we'll be there before midday."
The cab is driving, then slows to a halt. Everyone is looking at something ahead of them. They seem awestruck.
"Bloody hell..." Ianto splutters with awe.
"It must be Manchester." Rhys agrees.
"But, the whole of Manchester. The whole city..." Ianto shows sorrow.
"No fire crews to put it out." Jack shakes his head. On the horizon ahead, there is the glow of a truly massive fire. The smoke spreads into the sky like the plume from a vast, spreading volcano crater. The city burning.
The cab drives towards the surreal sight. As they drive, pale flakes begin to fall, drifting past the windows.
"It can't be..." Anwen gasps "Is it snow?"
hitting the windscreen wipers Rhys growls "It's ash."
The cab drives through the ash fall. Through the soft blizzard, they pass a sign for: MANCHESTER - 14 MILES (in the opposite lane). The city is behind them.
The cab drives down a motorway. The ash is still falling, and they start to pass bodies by the roadside. Inside the cab there is a sense of real anticipation. Everyone is sitting up, scanning the road ahead. Then they come over the brow of a hill, and the ash-fall clears like mist parting, to reveal...
"Okay, everyone. I think this is it." Rhys warns.
Fifty meters down, the road is blockaded. It is obviously a military construction - hurriedly put together, but expertly built. Behind rolls of razor wire are fifteen foot sheets of corrugated iron, held upright by scaffold pipes. In the middle of the blockade there is a gap wide enough to get a vehicle through, but concrete blocks force a chicane.
On either side of the road there are sandbag nests. On the corrugated iron, white painted words read: 42ND BLOCKADE. But despite the impressive construction, there is no sign of movement or life.
"Try the horn" Ianto suggests.
"Don't." Jack cuts in quickly "We might attract the wrong kind of attention."
The cab rolls slowly towards the blockade - past many more bodies, Turned, rotting. It reaches the chicane, and eases around the concrete blocks. Then it passes through the gap in the corrugated barrier. On the other side of the blockade, canvas tents have been erected on the grass verge, and two transporter trucks are parked. A few packing crates and tarpaulins are also scattered around. But still no signs of life. The blockade appears to have been abandoned.
Rhys slows to a halt, but keeps the engine running. "What do you think?"
"It looks deserted" Ianto frowns.
Jack adds "Or overrun."
Rhys flicks the radio on - there is only static. He switches it off again. "Let's check it out."
Everyone moves from the cab, holding their various weapons. Ianto has his hockey stick, Jack has his machete, and Rhys has his lead pipe...Cautiously, they begin to explore. They first head over to the grass verge and the tents. In front of one of them, Anwen picks up a Bergen backpack. She upends it, and a few clothes fall out. Rhys moves past her, and carefully pulls back the tent flaps - machete at the ready. Inside, there is a small table, and maps and papers are strewn across the floor. And a radio.
"I don't understand." Anwen asks "Did they leave?"
Ianto pushes open the flaps of another tent with his hockey stick. "They didn't all leave."
Inside, several body bags lie, buzzing with flies. Jack stands several feet away, by one of the packing cases. He pulls out a tangle of camouflage webbing, then lets it drop back inside. "I don't like this. I think we should go."
"No!" suddenly snapping Rhys barks then composes himself "The vehicles. We should check the vehicles first. There has to be something..."
Rhys jumps down from the back of one of the trucks. Like the others, like everything else it is empty. "Nothing. Nothing here. I can't believe it."
"Rhys." Jack says gently.
"We should go."
"Yes."
Exploding Rhys swings to face Jack "Go fucking where? What the fuck are we supposed to do? How is this going to fucking end? It's never going to …"
Rhys cuts himself off. Then, turning from the others, he walks away.
Rhys walks underneath the archway of one of the blockade structures, and sits down. Needing to be alone. His head sinks, staring at the ground beneath his legs. A couple of moments later he looks up - and sees that sitting opposite of him, on the other side of the archway, almost mirroring his posture and position, is a dead Turned. The corpse of the Turned sits gazing back at Rhys with sightless eyes. A moment between the two of them. A blank-faced exchange. Rhys looks left and sees the corpse of another Turned, a few feet beyond the blockade. And another, beyond it. And another, a few more feet to the right. Then Rhys looks upwards. Above him, on the walkway of the blockade, another corpse lies. And this corpse is swarmed with crows, picking at it. Rhys gets up. He says under his breath "Get out of it."
The Rhys is suddenly shouting "GET OUT OF IT!"
He bends, picks up a rock and throws it, but misses, sailing past them. In a rage again, Rhys goes under the blockade and starts to kick it. The scaffold clangs, vibrates, and - startled - the crows lift off from the mutilated corpse and fly...dislodging, or disrupting, a single droplet of blood from the corpse, that rolls off the neck, and begins to fall downwards. Down... to where Rhys gazes upwards. The droplet splashes, pinpoint perfect, on Rhys' eye. Rhys frowns, his hand immediately going to his face. The fingers come away, with the tiny smear of red.
"Dad... are you okay?"