Outside, Bonnie screams and screams. When it stops we can hear Ted’s pleading. He begs and moans and demands that they stop, but the Unloved continue to hum with an expressive and endless happiness.
In the morning, they are gone. Ted too. Perhaps into the woods, I don’t know. Bee doesn’t either. It has lost all connection to them, but it thinks they have gone for good.
All that is left are the scattered yellow and grey lumps that were once Bonnie.
I stand outside where the Group once made its campfire. It’s a chilly spring morning, but bright. The grass is growing back over that burned circle of earth. Thomas, Jason and Oliver stand close together, looking around like baby birds seeing out of the nest for the first time. How small our lives have become.
I heave the canvas bag over my shoulder.
‘Well then,’ I say. ‘Goodbye.’
‘Don’t go,’ says Jason. Oliver bursts into tears and his Bess reaches out to him, then wraps him up in its love.
‘What do you want?’ says Thomas. He has Holly out of the curtain papoose for once, in the crook of his arm. She is looking around with wide grey eyes and her skin is a very pale yellow. She is as beautiful as the daffodils that are starting to poke through the remains of William’s house, and as natural to behold. It is undeniable that she deserves her place in the world.
I say, ‘Nothing. Only to go. That’s all there is, now.’
He says, ‘You want me to say I’m sorry? Because I am. If you were a true friend you would forgive me, and forget all this nonsense.’
‘I do forgive you.’
‘Then stay. We need you. You have to tell us what to do. Please, Nate. Stay.’
I don’t answer. I’m sick of words. Instead, I show Bee a picture in my mind: the two of us together, our baby inside me, walking out of this place. Going to find out what remains of humanity. Not to bring anything back, not even to find new stories to tell. Just for the sake of knowing.
Bee agrees. It holds out a hand and I take it. We start to walk, following the path that leads out of the Valley of the Rocks. It is a path that unravels one step at a time, on and on, with no end.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to John Griffiths, Tim Stretton, and everyone at UKAuthors for continuing to read the things I write.
I have lots of ongoing gratitude for Neil Ayres and Francesca Kemp. You make my daily emails worth reading and keep me moving in the right direction. Thank you with bells on.
Anne Zanoni put her skill and hard work into this book, and I’m so glad she did. Thanks Anne. And George Sandison read it, liked it, and published it. For that, and for the dedication he has put into making it the best it can be, he deserves more than an acknowledgement. George – I owe you a beer. Or an ice cream.
And go Team Whiteley.
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Copyright
Published by Unsung Stories, an imprint of Red Squirrel Publishing
Red Squirrel Publishing Suite 235, 77 Beak Street, London W1F 9DB, United Kingdom
First edition published in 2014
© 2014 Aliya Whiteley
This book is a work of fiction. All the events and characters portrayed in this book are fictional and any similarities to persons, alive or deceased, is coincidental.
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-907389-25-2
ePub ISBN: 978-1-907389-23-8
Edited by Anne Zanoni (www.textmender.com) & George Sandison
Cover Artwork © Stuart Patience / Heart Agency 2014 (www.heartagency.com)
Designed and typeset by Cox Design Limited, Witney, Oxon