QT UK - Another Chapter 12 WIP

Hayley died in the night. 

Aoife woke to find the door to her room unlocked and a cold quiet hanging over the house. It was the first time since the hillside that she’d been unconfined or unattended, something which immediately unsettled her without knowing why; her mind summoning up tension to stalk ghostlike in the negative space left by the threats and rage that had been there before. She almost had to dare herself to head downstairs, understanding that being able to do so was going to mean consequences without knowing if they were for her or someone else. If they’d already happened, or if she was about to provoke them.

She’d told the blonde woman almost everything she’d learnt about DuoHalo, but If it had helped it hadn’t been enough. Sure, there’d been the consolation that her daughter was going to be ok, but with that came the confirmation that Hayley wasn’t going to be there to see it. And worse than the lack of any hope was the way that Aoife couldn’t offer any sort of context or purpose to any of it. There was probably nothing that would have meant Hayley was going to suddenly find peace and just let go, but she definitely couldn’t accept the sheer, enormous pointlessness of what she was being told. She struggled against being overlooked, forgotten and impotent, arguing with herself that Aoife had to still be holding back on something, even as her energy had faded and she’d been forced to shut her away again.

When no-one had come to demand more answers and the hours had crept on, Aoife knew what it likely meant. It was obvious how little Hayley had left to fight with, hollowed out and grey by the end of their last encounter, but part of her still hoped she was going to find the blonde’s anger waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. Instead, all she found was Anas sitting alone at the kitchen table. 

He didn’t seem to notice her as she entered, but it was clear enough from the moment she saw him that his sister-in-law was dead. Aoife didn’t think she’d seen a man look more broken than the figure etched out in the pale glow coming through the still drawn curtains. Still wearing the same clothes he had been the day before, there was something about the vacant way he cradled his face in his hands that wrenched at her, and she felt guilt coil noose-like around her despite knowing it wasn’t her fault. No matter how much it felt like it was somehow. She moved less carefully, hoping to let her footsteps announce herself to Anas gently, but only succeeded in startling him out of whatever place his thoughts had wandered to. Red-rimmed eyes looked back at her as he lifted his head, but there was less grief in his expression than she expected. Instead he just looked too afraid and overwhelmed for anything else to have really caught up to him yet, and she couldn’t tell if that was better or worse.

“...I’m sorry,” Aoife said, mumbling the words over the cloying stillness that lingered about the kitchen. The words were hard to say, but she was surprised that it was because she meant it, and she wished she was better equipped to offer something that felt less pathetic. Equally surprising to her was the fact that she wasn’t just leaving. She could turn and see the front door from where she stood, if she wanted, and the sane parts of her head said she should already be on the other side of it. The only thing stopping her was her conscience, nagging at her in the place where she wanted her bitterness to still be.

Anas only nodded in reply.

Moving towards the table, to sit with the man who was still technically her captor, Aoife looked for something to fill the silence. She started, but quickly tailed off, grappling hard enough with the way her own emotions were knotted up in her throat that anything she could think to say felt like bullshit or needlessly hurtful. “She was…” 

Anas’ voice strained. It was the first time she’d seen him without his mask on, the pretence that they were going to help them now far from either of their minds, and his entire face being visible only made it harder to hide how tired and drawn he appeared. “She was a good person. Before all of this started. They both were.” 

Aoife could believe that. Hayley had been a bitch to her, but she didn’t think anyone really felt entirely like the people they were six months ago. Some of who she was had certainly got lost somewhere along the way. And it was easier to be sad rather than angry at the blonde now she wasn’t here.

“I just don’t think she knew how to do helpless. And I’m sorry that it meant you had to…” It was his turn to fail at finishing a thought, as if he didn’t really want to confront what he’d been part of putting Aoife through. “...yeah.”

Would she have been much better in Hayley’s position, Aoife wondered? She still found it hard, on some level, not to hate the version of the woman she’d known, but she could hardly claim that she’d been above doing something stupid. She’d been enough of an impulsive asshole to access the drive after all. And she wasn’t half as desperate or hurt as Hayley must have been. How would she react if she knew she was going to die like that?

But then, that’s exactly what was going to happen to her, wasn’t it?

The thought that she’d been doing her best to keep at arm’s length, as it had crawled across the back of her mind for the last two days, caught up to her, and for once she wasn’t able to push it aside. Hayley had died from DuoHalo. Anas almost definitely had it, and there was no way she didn’t too. She’d seen the reports that were on the drive from Scotland and the attempts they’d made to mask up and keep their distance were next to meaningless. They’d been too close for too long and it seemed blindly unrealistic to pretend otherwise.

She was infected. And what chances did that give her? A coin flip at best? When did she ever get that lucky? If she had it, she knew she was fucked.

Something cold ran through her, and she had to force herself not to think of the body that was still lying somewhere upstairs, instead thinking of how quickly they’d find someone to replace her at work and all the movies she’d probably never get to watch.

It was only then that she noticed the stubby, half-empty glass vial that sat on the kitchen counter, next to a box large enough to contain several more, with Anesketin 100mg/ml printed in matter of fact letters on the side. The outline of a horse was also daubed across the crisp white cardboard, and while most of the pharmaceutical fine print was too small for her to read at a distance, the bold letters of one phrase was clear enough to see. ‘Ketamine. For veterinary use only.’

New questions ran through her mind. It was obviously from Hayley’s work, but her thoughts had turned morbid enough that she was second guessing who it was for, suddenly worrying if Anas was the sort to consider ending his own life rather than go through the death he’d seen his family members experience. 

“It was for her, last night,” he explained, after gathering himself, the memory obviously still open and raw. “I told you how most of the hospitals ran out of the usual pain killers, so I made sure Hayley kept some of hers back. It’s not ideal, but she was in too much pain not to give her something.”

As glad as she was that Anas wasn’t about to do anything rash, the answer didn’t exactly come as much of a comfort. No-one deserved to go out like that, even someone she was as conflicted over as Hayley.

“It was that bad, yeah?” She asked, almost without thinking, her own need to know just slightly larger than her fear.

Again, Anas just nodded. And again, Aoife found herself without the words to do anything but apologise.

“Sorry.”

“It is what it is,” he sighed, looking up at the ceiling and going quiet for a long moment. There was something oddly thoughtful about him that reminded her of Ethan, and more so than Hayley, she wished she’d managed to know him under better circumstances. “I just wish I could have made sure she was at peace by the end. But I don’t know if I think anything could really have done that.”

“So what now?”

“I don’t know? I’ll probably do a terrible job of digging another grave next to where Rizwan is at some point. I’d ring an ambulance to take care of her, but I don’t know if anyone would even come. And Hayley would have hated the idea of lying in some makeshift morgue waiting to be handled with dozens of others.” 

Anas looked like he wanted to cry, but had already done too much of it to be anything other than empty. It made Aoife realise that she hadn’t either, even with everything that she’d learnt or had happened to her over the last few days, and she wondered what that said about her. 

“After that? I’m trying to work out how I’m going to tell Hayley’s parents, and how I’m going to take Layla to them without risking them catching something. But first,” he did his best to look at her and smile. “I need to take you back to Taymont Hall. I can’t keep you here any longer. And maybe that Ethan person you kept talking about really does know something that can help you?”

It didn’t sound like he believed it, but like he wanted to try for her sake. Ethan’s name had come up a few times as Aoife had done her best to explain things to Hayley, even if her insistence that he had to know something they didn’t had only managed to aggravate the blonde woman, presumably leaving her to assume that Aoife was still holding back. She didn’t think she’d given as much away as she obviously had, but the way Anas said his name made it clear he’d picked up on some of the emotional significance there. 

“Maybe,” Aoife replied, weakly, and the lack of conviction in her response clearly surprised him

“You don’t think so?” 

“I don’t know? I…” In truth, the longer this went on, the more she was beginning to question things herself. Every thought of Ethan left her on unsteady ground, and it hurt to try and reconcile the idea that whatever he knew he’d be ok with letting any of this happen to Anas and his family. “Right now I just want to see him again.”

“Does he know how you feel about him?”

The question was enough of a surprise that her response came out unguarded, before she could stop and second guess herself, or bite back at Anas’ sudden concern for her feelings. “Fuck no. Do I look smart enough to have said something already?”

“Better late than never?”

She was about to protest that she was exactly the sort of moron who’d manage to die with that sort of thing left unsaid, when the now familiar sound of Layla crying interrupted them. Anas didn’t move immediately. He closed his eyes, as if it was one thing too many for him to deal with and he was hoping that after a second she might stop on her own. She didn’t, but it was Aoife who moved first. 

“Let me. If she just needs changing then I used to do that all the time for my niece when she was small.” The engineer did her best not to dwell on the note of guilt that came with thinking of her sister again, for the first time in weeks, the frosty relationship they’d had since an argument a few years earlier meaning that said niece was someone she only saw briefly at family Christmas’ now. Being her own worst enemy when it came to people close to her wasn’t a new thing for the pandemic.

Anas let her go, gratefully, and as she turned to head back upstairs towards Layla’s nursery, quietened the part of her that still insisted she should be walking straight out the front door instead. If he was going to take her back, there was nothing to gain from it other than petulance for petulance’s sake; something she wasn’t always above but was just too worn for now. The sight of Hayley’s closed bedroom door as she reached the top however gave her much more pause. It was stupid of her, but just being that close to it scared her, the eerie, imagined nothingness wearing Hayley’s shape more terrifying than any horror movie had ever been to her. 

She hurried to Layla’s room, for once thankful for the noise the child was making to keep her imagination from wandering too far. The nursery was only small, a little box of space perched at the front of the house, overlooking the valley, but it was more complete than any other in the old farm conversion. Layla’s parents had obviously poured their love into getting things perfect before the baby had arrived, with every fixture and piece of furniture clean and new, overlooked by farm animals painted freehand on the walls. Layla herself lay small and pink and screaming in a handmade cot, and it was hard for Aoife not to trick herself into thinking how angry her cries seemed, as if she’d inherited her mother’s rage at how unfair everything was. And while it quickly became apparent that the noise was due to a filled nappy rather than anything grander, Aoife still prayed that the kid would grow up with at least a little of that anger intact.

“I know,” she soothed, as she worked, speaking more to reassure herself that the kid would be ok than anything else. “The world deserves you being pissed off at it. I’d be screaming and shitting to show it who's boss if I was you too.” It didn’t work entirely though, and the longer she spent with the kid’s crying the more Aoife’s heart wanted to join her. She did manage to give herself one, fleeting smile at least; when she finished the change and found a small knitted hat with Layla’s things to help keep her warm, in a cute pastel green. The infant calmed almost as soon as it was slipped over her fuzz of dark hair, and Aoife couldn’t help but mentally congratulate the kid on her good taste. 

With Layla settling again, she was about to fetch one of the stuffed animals down from a nearby shelf to sit with her in the cot, when the sound of vehicles drawing up on the road outside drew her attention, followed by the dull thud of doors being closed. She strayed to the window, and felt her heart jump as she was met with the sight of a dark sedan parked between two police cars, with several officers climbing out to join a woman in a long grey coat as she approached the front door.

At a stroke all her adrenaline came surging back. She should have been comforted, but her stunt with the drive had done just enough to leave her uncertain and paranoid, and her mind raced with thoughts of how things might be about to play out. Something that wasn’t helped when the woman glanced up towards her window, her features hidden by one of the N95 masks they were all wearing, and their eyes met for a moment. She said something to the officer beside her, giving a point in Aoife’s direction, her body language closed, and the policeman nodded before leaning into the radio on his chest, his words lost on the other side of the double glazed window.

Aoife checked to make sure Layla was settled before heading, tentatively, to the top of the stairs. Anas had already answered the door by the time she got there, doing his shellshocked best to comply with a pair of the uniformed policemen who were asking if he had any weapons in the house, even as they guided him back into the kitchen with gloved hands. He stammered responses, mumbling about Hayley’s shotgun, and Aoife couldn’t tell if this was how he’d have reacted to the arrival of the authorities at any point, or if by this point it had all become too much for him.  

As he left, the woman moved into the hallway, looking up at Aoife, her hands firmly placed within the pockets on her coat. There was a presence to her, but the green haired woman couldn’t tell if it was attempting to radiate composure or judgement, putting Aoife in mind of how some of her more withering teachers had looked at her at school. She hated the feeling immediately, and when the woman spoke, it didn’t give enough away to reassure her.

“Aoife Ryan?”

“That’s me, who’s asking?” Aoife’s instinct to the new discomfort was to immediately become defensive, trying to bury the shitshow of her emotions. But she failed, and came across more like a surly teenager trying not to break down.

“Detective Beth Collingwood of Yorkshire Police’s Special Branch. You’ve had a lot of people working very hard to find you.” She studied Aoife for a moment longer, then as if arriving at some conclusion, her stance softened. She extended one arm, holding it out as if for Aoife to step into, and moved back to show her towards the door. “You look like you’ve been through a lot. Why don’t we get you somewhere safe?”

“That…yeah, that sounds good.” Aoife nodded and, realising her legs were about to start shaking, picked her way down the stairs one careful step at a time. Collingwood’s hand found the small of her back when she reached her, giving her a gently reassuring push towards the door, but she paused in response to it.

“There’s a baby upstairs. And, in the main bedroom there’s…” she couldn’t quite bring herself to say how there was a dead woman waiting for whichever officer went up there to check, but the detective seemed to understand and gave a small nod that left her feeling guilty without knowing why.

“It’s ok, we’re here to deal with things now. Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, and stepped out into the cold, grey autumn, the fresh air suddenly leaving the previous two days feeling slightly unreal. She tried to process things, but her mind just felt numb, hung up like a broken piece of machinery in need of a percussive reset to jolt it out of its uselessness. It was all Aoife could do to force herself to take a deep breath, but before she could exhale, the sound of another car door being closed prompted her to look up; and when she did, the air left her chest with a woosh.

Moving from the sedan, rushing up the garden path towards her was Ethan. He must have been accompanying the police, but she wasn’t able to stop and try and reason that out. Nor was she able to take in how tired he looked, the little details left out of focus by the punch of emotion that connected firmly in her gut, warm and confused and intense. For a moment, she didn’t know what she felt, didn’t know where she was meant to even start, but as he got closer, her attention picked up on something that left everything else replaced by panic.

He wasn’t wearing a mask, and she had DuoHalo.

“Ethan, stop! I’m…”

Aoife’s voice cracked, but Ethan didn’t stop, reaching her before she could try and tell him to keep his distance. His arms pressed around her, and she tried to push him away.

“I’m infected! Ethan! No, I’m infected. I’m infected!”

Her fingers splayed against his chest as she shoved against him, but he didn’t care. The more she struggled, the harder he held her. For a moment, Aoife’s mind screamed, and the anxiety at what he was doing stopped her from realising that he was talking to her, until his hand reached the back of her head, and eased it against his shoulder. Unable to go anywhere, she found herself surrendering to the embrace, drowning beneath her feelings and the sense of his body tight and reassuring around her. 

It took her a second or two, but when she calmed, she realised he was repeating the same phrase as he tried to soothe her. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright. Aoife, it’s alright.”

And that was enough. She didn’t know why, she just knew it was. She’d dreamt for weeks of him being there for her, hugging her and making everything seem less broken. Less relentlessly, world endingly shit. And suddenly there he was, doing just that, and it was everything she needed.

Aoife realised she was crying. The tears she’d failed to find for days now had begun to run down her cheeks, although she didn’t know if they were from stress or relief, fear or happiness.

She just buried herself against him and sobbed.