The Cure, стр. 24
McGregor knew that Danny would have to drink from his water bottle at some point, which had been drugged by Goldsmith’s mole before Danny had left the base. ‘Bloody kids think the world owes them. Live in the real world first and then see how you feel,’ he thought to himself as he sped down the highway. It was getting darker and without a helmet his eyes were starting to tear up with the cold cross wind. He didn’t know how far ahead Danny was, but he knew that he was in touching distance, and he rode through blurred vision, putting his foot down harder.
It happened so fast McGregor didn’t have time to think or act. The wire across the road cut into the front tire and wrapped itself around the wheel. As the wheel buckled the bike crashed sideways and the wire wrapped around the handlebars. McGregor’s wrist was trapped as the bike slid to a stop pinning him to the floor.
McGregor’s face throbbed where a layer of skin had been removed by the road. He couldn’t feel his legs. He tugged at the wire wrapped around his arm. Thinking as quickly as he could, he reached for his knife and tried to cut at the wire, unsuccessfully. He looked at his wrist then back to the knife and quickly put out of his mind what he was thinking. ‘I’d rather die,’ he mumbled. He started to unravel the wire when he smelt gasoline leaking from the back of the bike. Jerking loose the wire he dragged himself from under the bike and up onto his feet. His legs felt numb, but he was ok. The bike caught alight and he stepped away from the fast-rising flames, now burning where he was laying not ten seconds ago. The flame caught the gasoline and went up to the sky and then it was gone, back down to nothing more than the flame from a match. McGregor shrugged. ‘Could this day get any worse?’
McGregor turned back to the road to continue his journey by foot, but when he looked around he had been surrounded by three shabby wolves slowly starting to edge in. ‘Really? I mean really. You let me walk away from that and now this.’ McGregor reached for his knife.
***************
Danny was close to the reservoir and he could hear water travelling ahead of him. Now it was a case of getting inside, setting up the explosives and sitting firm until he either heard from Logan, or he didn’t. The sun was starting to come up and the dam became visible in the distance.
The past two days had felt strange with no-one other than himself for company and only the hum of his own motorbike filled the air. The odd bird flew high in the sky away from predators but for the most part only the world moved alongside him as he rode through wastelands and smallholdings. Passing empty towns only made him more aware of the situation and filled him with trepidation of what was really going on in the world. But the thought of meeting another human being in this apocalyptic nightmare scared him more and more as he realized the severity of being out here alone, with no-one else and with no food.
He passed a small group of houses, which had probably been occupied by workers at the reservoir. Danny imagined the workers coming home to their families after a hard day’s work and sitting down with them, talking about their day. Maybe the fathers played baseball with their sons or daughters in the yard. Perhaps they would meet up with their neighbors for games night, or drinks and BBQ on balmy evenings in summertime.
He slowed down and pulled up outside one of the houses which faced directly onto the highway. Not many cars came through here, even when these houses thrived. It was a one-way road to the reservoir. He stepped up onto the porch and open the door, half hanging off its hinges. He felt like he was intruding and considered shouting out, but then caught himself and stopped before the noise left his mouth. The door opened to a dining room filled with a table and chairs around it. Only one plate was laid out with a knife and fork either side.
Danny checked the cupboards even though he had ample supplies, just as a back-up. As expected, they were empty. The floorboards creaked with each step he took, and he felt the wood disintegrating as he started up the stairs. He didn’t even know why he had stopped at the house, but he was drawn to it. He looked in the bedrooms one by one.
The first room was pink and that of a young girl, maybe seven or eight, dolls neatly lined up on the top of her bookcase and tucked in her bed. He watched the girl running through the room shouting ‘daddy, daddy’ whilst laughing and her dress flowing behind her. Then into the boy’s room, bunkbeds and a small cot-bed. A snotty nosed toddler stood on the cot watching whilst his brothers played with penknives and play tic tac toe. This house had always been devoid of computers, mobile phones and the anti-social technology the major cities thrived on.
Finally, into the last bedroom where the husband held his wife’s face in his hands and smiling kissed her on the lips, happy that his little family were together, and that life was good. He provided for them and they gave him love in return. Back downstairs they sat down at the table with the boys filling their plates and everyone speaking at the same time. The youngest child with food around his mouth grinning at his mother, whilst father cut the meat