(Author's note: Hi! So this is the first chapter from the novel I wrote for my MA Creative Writing degree, which I got a distinction in. I want to edit it again in hopes of turning it into a real novel. It's technically a sequel to a story I wrote aggeessss ago which is why some of it feels overly explanational in the start, because I didn't want to rewrite the original scenes where the world is taken over by the crawlers. I hope you enjoy and feel free to give feedback!)

1. The Farm

Kurt Blake shook off his boots with the sigh of an old man. He shrugged off his plaid jacket and hung it up on one of the pegs behind the front door, then he took off his hat, gloves and scarf, tucking them away neatly in the box by the stairs. After stuffing his feet into his battered slippers, he shuffled into the small kitchen of the cottage and started making himself a cup of tea. As a kid, he’d often given thought to what he’d like to spend his retirement doing, admiring his grandfather's dedication to the farm. Perhaps he would build a bigger chicken coop, start making new flavours of cider, learn how to make woollen jumpers himself. He just hadn’t thought he’d feel like he needed to retire before he’d even turned sixteen years old.

Nestled away in a hamlet in the Aberystwyth countryside, next to two smaller, neater farms, Manor Farm and Hafan Wen, the farm had been his family’s pride and joy. At times, Kurt thought his parents had cherished it more than they cherished him or his younger sister Katie. When his parents had inherited it from his grandparents, they’d changed the name from the Welsh Brynderwen to Mulberry, much to his grandfather’s dismay. His mother said it was always her dream to own a farm named Mulberry, after hearing the name in a book when she was a child. The farm became known for its fresh produce and sweet apple cider, sold every Saturday in town. That had been life, for the most part. 

Steady, ordinary, predictable. Maybe a little bit dusty and old. Just the way the Blakes liked it.

Then, three months ago, when Kurt had just turned fifteen, and Katie was eleven, everything that they knew as normal was turned upside down and inside out. The fences that once kept the sheep in now kept the monsters out, and the name Mulberry no longer felt like home, only a reminder of what had been lost. The farm itself was grieving. The fields lay unploughed, the orchard overgrown, the sheep unsheared. Kurt didn’t like to think about it too much. Just get on with the day–to–day– that was his motto. What happened three months ago had happened, and life remained. What was the point in moping or panicking?

'Lola!' Kurt called as he flicked on the camping stove and began boiling water for his tea. 'Check the radio, there’s supposed to be a broadcast tonight.'

Lola-Rose had lived on Manor Farm, across the road from Mulberry. She was pretty, or at least Kurt thought so, with long blonde hair tied back into a high ponytail and earthy eyes that could stare right through you. One look from her and you either felt ten feet tall or two inches small. Most of the time, Kurt fell into the second category.

He turned his head and watched her enter the room. She was holding a tiny lamb, feeding it from a bottle. 

Kurt sighed. 'I thought I told you to keep animals out of the house.'

She put the bottle down on the counter. ‘He won’t feed unless it’s from me. The others push him off, and he’s too weak to fight back.'

'But you’ve imprinted on him now. I know you’re missing Jasper and Nolan, but-'

Lola put Bayley down on the floor and crossed her arms. 'Don’t patronise me. I’m fine. He’s fine. End of story.’ She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a huff. ‘What’s this about a broadcast?'

'Oh, Cry was on the frequency earlier. There’s another broadcast tonight.' He poured the boiled water into his cup over an already used tea bag. They had to be sensible, rationing the things they couldn’t grow or make themselves. 

The ghost of a smirk crossed Lola’s face. 'I guess we’ll see if it’s important then. Should I drag everyone out of bed?'

‘Don’t bother,' Kurt said, stirring in some milk. 'It’s probably just an Ident message again, someone’s brother or sister found. I thought you’d want to listen, in case, you know-' 

He looked at her face, not wanting to say something wrong like he usually did when it came to Lola. She hadn’t spoken about her brother or cousin in some time, but three months ago, it was all she could focus on. Now, whenever he brought it up, trying to be helpful, she would bite his tongue off about it. 

Lola shifted around the kitchen, cleaning up after Bayley, who had found a box of cereal on the floor and was happily munching his way through it. ‘We might need to hit Screwfix or Toolstation again,’ she said, ignoring him. ‘We need more weapons, and since ammo for the shotguns is low, I’m thinking any sort of axe or knife will do. I know they sell - sold - hatchets and things like that. Blades for the Stanley knives. Maybe even a chainsaw.’

Kurt smiled weakly.‘We’re safe here. It’s not like in town. We don’t need more weapons. We barely get any strays. We’ll be fine for a while.’ He took a sip of tea. 'Pebbles said she felt something big was coming, didn’t she?'

'You believe that nonsense?' she laughed, sweeping up Bayley’s mess. ‘I thought you were better than that, Kurt. Last week, she predicted that a ‘blue girl’ would save the world. You want us to put faith in that?’ She started spinning around and dancing with the broom, singing some old song. ‘I’m blue, da-ba-dee, da-ba-di!’

Kurt sighed, though he wanted to laugh as he watched her spin, her hair flying out around her. It was nice to see her laughing. ‘No, of course I don’t believe her. Not really. But wouldn’t it be nice if it were true? I mean, there’s no harm in having a bit of hope, is there? Hope is what has kept this place running.'

'You’re what keeps this place running, Kurt,’ she said. ‘Hope doesn’t tend crops or mend fences. Hope doesn’t look after animals and orphaned kids. You do.’

'Yeah, and Hope’s my middle name.' 

A faint smile tugged at Lola’s lips, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Kurt offered her a sip of his tea, but she shook her head.

'I’ll go put the radio on and see what this broadcast is about. Where’s Katie?'

'Probably with Cherry. One of the kids was sick.'

Kurt followed Lola through the kitchen, down the hallway of the cottage and into a small, dark room at the back, no bigger than a cupboard. It smelled faintly of wax and damp wood. Kurt lit a candle and sat down next to the radio, a small, battered Sony ICF-5900W that Lola had found when looting the industrial estate. She reached out and turned the radio on, switched it from AM to FM, then turned the stiffening dial to the secret frequency. 94.5 MHz. Sometimes, when Lola wasn’t around, Kurt would twist the dial slowly across all the frequencies to see if anyone else was out there. It was always just static. 

He slid down the wall and sat cross-legged opposite Lola. 'I used to hide in here when I was little. It’s where my mum kept the spare bedding. I’d hide underneath it. No one would find me for hours.'

'Hide-and-seek with Katie?'

He shook his head. 'Mum and Dad used to argue a lot. Katie could sleep through it, but I couldn’t. Running the farm was stressful for them, I think. I barely remember what it was about, only that I wanted them to stop.’

She studied him for a moment. ‘Take it from me, the shouting only stops when they divorce.’

The pair sat in silence for a moment before the static crackled into a few beeps, dash-dot-dash-dot, repeated twice, standing for CC, or CryCast. Then, the voice came through. It was disguised by a harsh filter, cold and mechanical like a malfunctioning robot. 

 'Ident News. Three people picked up by the Shadows are awaiting collection at ST4-W. I repeat, ST4-W. Benji Newman seeking his older brother, Jack. Megan Burns seeking her boyfriend, Peter. Macey Ernest-White seeking her cousin, Aubrey. Thank you.'

The static returned. Kurt reached a hand out and gripped Lola’s shoulder gently. 'I’m sorry.'

'It’s fine,' she shrugged, shaking him off. 'Jasper wouldn’t be stupid enough to go with the Shadows anyway, especially not with Nolan depending on him.'

'The Shadows can’t be that bad. Not all of them.'

Her eyes snapped to his, sharp as a shattered glass bottle smashed on the stone floor.

Kurt winced and cursed under his breath. ‘I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing to say.’

‘Well,’ she said, tucking stray hairs behind her ear with deliberate precision. ‘I’m going to take Bayley back to the barn. Are you off to bed?' 

Kurt hesitated, watching her back as she stood up and moved towards the door, and wished that he were better at saying the right thing. 'Yeah. Same old routine tomorrow, eh?'

Lola laughed. 'You know, I do think better than before, in some ways. I mean, I certainly don’t miss school, for starters.’'

'You don’t miss your parents?'

She spun around to face him again. ‘I don’t think about them anymore.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he offered, unsure of what else to say.

‘Stop saying sorry all the time; it’s not your fault. You can’t fix everything!’ Lola snapped, storming out of the room.

Sighing, Kurt pushed himself up and blew out the candle. He shut the door behind him and quickly ascended the creaky staircase up to his room.

He undressed and slid between the sheets of his parents' old bed. It had made sense that he and Katie kept the cottage. Lola had moved from Manor Farm into the spare bedroom at Mulberry a few weeks back, and given her old room to Cherry, a girl from town. Kurt hadn’t questioned why, though he knew it had to be something more than Lola simply wanting to be closer to the lambs. Part of him secretly hoped that she liked him in the way he liked her, but he knew neither of them would ever admit it. Kurt slept in his parents' bed, whilst Katie kept her bedroom. The attic, dingy and cramped, now belonged to two kids who’d made their way to the farm looking for refuge-- Pebbles and Rev. Cherry looked after three toddlers, Ben, Alys, and Anwen, over at Manor with a boy called Malcolm, and Hafan Wen was occupied by two Welsh-speaking boys, Bryn and Cai. They had become like family over the past few months. 

He thought about how lucky they were, that they’d all carved out their corners of safety in the wreckage of the countryside. But even in this temporary calm, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting. That something big was coming, as Pebbles said. He only hoped that it was something good. As he drifted off to sleep, he dreamt of the blue girl and saw her running down the hill.

***

Lola scooped up Bayley and carried him out of the back door and across the farmyard. He nosed at the sleeve of the riding jacket she was wearing. It was too big for her, the cuffs frayed with age. It had once belonged to Jamie. Kurt didn’t say anything, but he noticed. He always noticed. And she always noticed him noticing. Burying her nose in the lamb’s soft fur, she hurried to the barn. It had just started raining. Bad weather was a blessing these days because the Invaders hated it. Most of the ones that made it this far into the countryside were weak, hungry, and easy to outrun anyway, but some of the strays had a way of tricking you, making noises that sounded like a person shouting for help. She would never fall for that, never again.

'Here we go, Bayley, out of the rain,' she said, reaching out for the bolt that kept the barn locked. Her hand scraped into the wood of the door instead. 'Huh?'

The door was unlocked, and the heavy bolt was already slid across to the right. Lola knew she had locked it after fetching Bayley earlier. She always locked it. Safety was her job, her duty on the farm. Every door, every window, checked and double-checked before nightfall. Every fence-line walked until her boots wore deep grooves in the mud. There was a sturdy, four-foot wooden fence around Mulberry, and a rougher chicken-wire fence around the edge of the hamlet that she and Kurt had put up back when it all began. Her shotgun, the one Kurt had trusted her with, wasn’t at her side. It was back in the kitchen.

Lola pulled the door open. It creaked loudly. The pale light of the moon shone over her head, illuminating the sheep just enough. She clung to Bayley a little too hard as she counted. Ten ewes, two lambs, discounting Bayley, and one wether. They were all there, safely behind the bars of their pens. She scuttled in as quickly as she could and placed Bayley down beside his mother. 

Why hadn’t she brought a torch? Or at least a hammer or a wrench, from Kurt’s grandfather’s toolbox by the back door. Stupid, that’s what she was becoming. Kurt had a way of lulling her into it, a way of getting her to let her guard down more and more. Bonfires, cooked breakfasts, the way he smiled at her; it was dangerous. Her boots crunched over the hay as she took a step back toward the door. If Rev or one of the Welsh-speaking lads had unlocked it without her permission, they were in for it tomorrow. She was about to head back to the house, almost convinced everything was fine, when…

Snap!

Lola immediately whipped herself around in the direction of the noise. 'Hello?'

There was rustling in the far corner, behind the old, broken tractor. Lola took a deep breath and marched over, unsure where she found the bravery from. There was something crouched in the corner, just a black mass, shuddering, teeth chattering. Lola froze, unable to see what she was facing. Its eyes snapped open, and suddenly bright white orbs were staring at her. Its head cocked slowly to the right, then to the left, like it was studying her. 

Lola had never been alone with one before. It seemed to be smiling, and slowly the smile stretched wider and wider, until all its decaying, blackened teeth were exposed. A low, wet rasp hissed from deep in its throat, guttural and spluttering. Then, it lunged, jaws snapping, teeth flashing in the dark. Lola screamed, stumbling backwards and crashing onto the ground. Her palms slipped as she scrabbled for balance, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. 

It stopped, now on all fours, less than a metre away from her face. Something spluttered out of its mouth onto the ground, landing with a squelch. Lola squeezed her eyes shut and prayed hard. Her mind raced, filling with images she’d tried hard to forget, of the Shadows, of Jamie, but it coughed again, forcing her back into reality. It sounded like something else was caught in its throat, and so Lola took her chance, pushed herself up onto her feet and made a dash for the door. 

‘Lola!’ came a voice from behind her as she slammed the door and rammed the bolt across. ‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’ 

Kurt was running toward her in his dad’s oversized dressing gown, shotgun in one hand, torch in the other. The navy robe flapped ridiculously around his legs like a cape, but his face was deadly serious. Behind him, Katie was standing on the back porch, her bright red hair shining under the moon. 

‘There’s an Invader in the barn,’ she cried, pointing at it. ‘A stray. I locked it, Kurt, I swear to God I locked it!’

Kurt cocked the shotgun with a loud clack and stepped towards the barn. ‘How did it get in?’

‘I don’t know!’ Lola snapped. ‘I checked the perimeter earlier, twice! Don’t you dare look at me like it’s my fault.’

 Kurt hurried towards the barn. He pressed his ear against the door. Lola caught the tremor in his breath before he masked it.

‘I can hear it,’ Kurt muttered. ‘You ready?’

Lola nodded slowly. ‘I’ll get my gun.’

‘No, I’ll do it.’ He passed her the torch. ‘You open up, I’ll shoot.’

She clamped her lips shut, biting back the sting of protest. Always his way.

‘On three, okay?’ Kurt said. ‘One, two, three!’

Lola unlocked the door and pulled it open, shining the light inside. The Invander was crouched in the middle of the barn. Its clothes were torn, skin slick with blood, head twitching. More blood glistened on the floorboards. It was gorging on something. Kurt stepped closer, Lola following behind him. It looked up into the light and gargled, and Lola could see it had ripped open one of the ewes. Entrails slopped down its chin. Kurt raised the shotgun and fired. The Invader’s head snapped back violently, then it slumped over backwards, hitting the floor with a wet thud.

‘It unlocked the door,’ Kurt said, voice low. He shook his head and turned to Lola. His brown eyes looked straight into hers. ‘They’re learning.’