3. The Farm

At breakfast, Kurt could tell Lola hadn’t slept. He could practically hear her anxiety brewing over the sizzle of the eggs on the stove. When he poured her a cup of tea, she flinched, then sat silently, staring at the swirling stream as if it held all the answers. Bayley nudged his foot. Lola had brought him in from the barn last night and had not taken her eyes off him since.

‘I’ll start reinforcing the fence after this,’ he said, putting a plate of fried eggs down in front of her. ‘I’ve got all that wood in the barn, from when the shed came down, and that last lot left from when Ja– ’ he stopped himself just in time. ‘From when we went to the industrial estate. I’ll find my dad’s ladder so I can make it taller. Maybe we can find barbed wire on the estate somewhere.’

‘I checked the fence,’ Lola said, stabbing at her eggs with her fork. Yellow yolk splattered across the plate. ‘Twice. That’s not how they got in.’

Kurt took a seat opposite her. He tried to catch her eyes, but she wouldn’t look at him. ‘No, I know. I’m sorry. I’m just saying, it won't hurt to make it even more safe. We won't lose another sheep, mark my words.’

‘I know you’re just trying to make me feel better,’ she muttered, her fork scraping against the plate as she pushed the yolky mess around. ‘But it doesn’t. It felt like it was mocking me. Like it knew that I cared about those sheep.’

It took Kurt a while to think of a response. ‘Look, all we can do is tighten security. It was only one, and we can handle that. I’m gonna call a meeting with everyone. I think we need a night watch, or a patrol, that kind of thing.’

‘You mean, Rev taking over my job while I sit here eating eggs?’ Lola dropped her fork with a clatter and crossed her arms. 

Kurt rubbed the back of his neck, but before he could think of an answer, the kitchen door swung open, and Rev flew in, his black trench dragging against the stone floor as he swished around the table. 

‘Don’t worry, Lols, I’m not trying to steal your job,’ Rev said, drumming his fingers on the table. Kurt hated that Rev called Lola that. He hated more that Lola didn’t mind. ‘It’s Cai you want to keep an eye on,’ Rev went on, miming the kick of a shotgun at her, then at Kurt. ‘Kid’s got itchy fingers.’

‘Morning, Rev,’ Kurt coughed, leaning back in his chair. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Like the dead,’ Rev replied flatly, then nodded at the stove. ‘Got enough for another plate?’

‘Help yourself,’ Kurt sighed. He rubbed at his temple. No one was quite sure where Rev had sprung from. He just turned up at the farm one day, right after the bloodbath, offering to help. His accent was slightly brummie, and he hadn’t told anyone much about his life before, other than he’d lost his friends when they’d tried to escape the city. He’d walked to Aberystwyth alone, armed only with a baseball bat. There was a wildness in him, something that didn’t need anyone else, but for reasons of his own, he’d stuck around. 

Now he leaned over the stove, humming a tune as he cracked eggs in a pan like this was normal life. Kurt was nothing short of amazed by the attitudes of the other kids on the farm, how they just adapted, moved on. Even Katie had started to change. This morning, he’d found her taking down every picture of their parents and locking them away in a box.

‘An Invader got in last night.’ Kurt announced. Lola picked Bayley up off the floor and buried her face in his fur. ‘And just so you know,’ he added, looking at Lola. ‘I killed it.’

‘You want a medal?’ Rev said, turning his head around with a grin. ‘Killed like three down by the traintracks yesterday myself.’

Kurt clenched his jaw. ‘This one got into the barn.’

‘Got in?’

Kurt nodded. ‘Unlocked the door. There’s no break the fence. It must have climbed over.’

‘Well,’ Rev said after a pause, ‘that’s new.’ He flipped an egg and let it sizzle, tapping the spatula rhythmically on the side of the pan. ‘I guess that means they’re actually watching the fences now. Waiting for someone to screw up.’

‘I didn’t screw up,’ Lola snapped.

Rev held up his hands. ‘Didn’t say you did.’ 

Kurt finished his tea with a slurp and stood up from his chair.

‘I’m just saying,’ Rev continued, now rummaging for a clean plate. ‘It means they’re adapting. If they’re figuring out latches and barn doors… next its windows. The front door. Then, well, I don’t know, votes?’ He laughed, trying to break the tension, but Kurt was not in the mood. ‘Maybe we need more guns.’

‘And where do you propose we get more guns from?’ Kurt asked briskly. ‘We’re gonna have a meeting. We can brainstorm ideas then.’

Rev whistled as he plated his breakfast and took a seat at the table. ‘Pebbles pulled a tarot card last night,’ he said through a mouthful of toast. ‘The Tower.’

‘I don’t want to know what it means.’ Kurt groaned. ‘Just eat up. Then find Cherry, Cai, whoever’s awake. We’ll have the meeting in the garden.’

‘It means change, Kurt. Chaos. Loss,’ Rev said, but Kurt ignored him. ‘But whatever you say, boss. Just keep it in mind.’

From outside, a sudden low groan echoed up from the far field. Not human. Not quite animal. 

Lola was already moving. She pushed back from the table, put Bayley down, grabbed her coat, and headed for the door.

‘Lola-’ Kurt started.

‘I’ll just check,’ she said, already halfway out. Kurt watched her pull the shotgun over her shoulder. ‘I need some target practice.’

The door slammed behind her.

Humming a hearty tune, Rev reached for Lola’s plate and scraped the leftovers onto his own.

***

Lola raised the shotgun and aimed it at the Invader. She hated that name. It sounded like something from a video game. This was reality. The thing was crawling slowly across the field that backed down onto the industrial estate. She could just about see Screwfix and Greggs from here, remnants of another world.

She wished she had a different gun. Something longer range. Hell, even a crossbow and some arrows would be handier at this point. She watched as the thing crawled closer to the wire fence, squinting, one eye shut, finger on the trigger. It stopped, mid-crawl, with its back still arched. Then, it rose to its feet, slowly uncurling with a lurching, unnatural grace, its limbs hanging like wet rope. For a moment, it just stood and stared at Lola. Her finger curled tighter around the trigger. 

‘Stay right there,’ she muttered under her breath. 

Then it moved again. It didn’t take a step closer, but it raised its arms. Lola thought it was just stretching, but then its arms locked in place, and its eyes met hers. 

It was mimicking her.

Her posture. Her stance. The way she held the shotgun, one arm beneath the other. Chin tilted. Even the narrowing of the eyes as she realised. She took a step back, the shotgun shaking in her hands. The thing took a staggered half-step, its mouth stretching into a wide smile, still locked in that grotesque impression of her. 

​​Lola didn’t wait any longer.

She pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit it straight between the eyes, and then it collapsed as the recoil thudded into Lola’s shoulder. 

‘Mimic that,’ she spat, lowering the gun.

By the time Lola got to the meeting, it had already started. The garden at the back of Kurt’s house was overlooked by the smallest farm, Hafan Wen. Kurt was obsessed with tending to it. It kept him sane, kept him grounded, or at least that’s what Lola assumed. It didn’t make much sense to her. It wasn’t even the garden where they grew the food; that was fenced off further down the slope, near the sheep pens. This one was ornamental, apparently started by Kurt’s grandad fifty years ago, a winding mess of overgrown roses, lavender, old paving stones, and handmade mismatched wooden chairs. 

A fire pit was burning in the centre, smoke curling up into the late morning sky like the incense Lola’s mum used to burn. Cherry was sprawled out on the grass, looking effortlessly pretty with her dark hair thrown into a messy bun. She was keeping the three toddlers busy with a few battered wooden toys and a singsong voice, her laugh carrying over the crackle of the flames. 

Malcolm, Cherry’s not-quite-boyfriend, was lying on his back with his arms behind his head, sunglasses covering his eyes, radiating a calculated indifference that made him look more like a bored student at a music festival than someone trying to survive the apocalypse. Katie perched stiffly on the edge of the bench, knees pressed together, next to Pebbles, who was fiddling with her tarot cards, stopping every few seconds to push purple hair out of her eyes. The twins from Hafan Wen, Bryn and Cai, were sitting together on camping chairs, their legs stretched out, tanned hands wrapped around enamel mugs of lukewarm tea.

‘You’re late!’ chimed Rev, who was sitting on a log next to the fire, poking at it with a long stick. He pointed at her with the stick and stuck his tongue out. 

‘I was too busy shooting something in the face,’ she shot back, looking at Kurt, who was standing on the other side of the fire. 

His eyes flicked to the gun in her hand. ‘It got close?’

Lola nodded curtly. ‘Close enough.’ She crossed the grass and leaned the shotgun against the back door. ‘As much as I hate to admit it, Kurt, but you’re right, we do need to do something about that fence.’

After clearing his throat, Kurt clapped his hands together and said, ‘Right, the meeting restarted. Lola, tell them about last night, and then we’ll go back to brainstorming about defences.’

‘One got into the barn and killed a sheep,’ Lola said. ‘It must have climbed the fence and unlocked the barn door.’

‘But the Invaders don’t do that,’ Malcolm said, taking his sunglasses off. His small, sharp green eyes glinted in the light of the fire. ‘They’re not interested in animals. They always go for us. And they’re stupid. Slow and stupid.’

‘Yeah, well, this one wasn’t,’ Lola snapped. She glared at Malcolm, whose smug face stared back. He always had to be right. ‘And anyway, what would you know? You’ve never even shot one.’

‘I’m a pacifist!’ He said, raising his hands. ‘I’m against the very idea of guns!’

‘You think holding up a peace sign is going to stop them tearing your face off?’

‘Look,’ interjected Kurt. ‘It means they’re learning. Getting smarter.’

‘The one I just shot was mimicking me. Copying my movements. They’re studying us.’

‘So we need to reinforce the farm.’ Kurt pointed at Malcolm. ‘You’ll have to learn to shoot, I’m sorry. We’ll start this afternoon, but first, I need you to help me and Katie with the fences. We’re gonna use those old pallets and maybe scavenge barbed wire and make it impenetrable.’ Then he pointed at Rev. ‘You’ll share night watch duty with Lola; you could take one of Bryn’s horses, if that’s okay with you, Bryn?’

Bryn shifted in his chair, rolling one shoulder back. He was only twelve, but tall for his age, with a calm, practical air that made him seem older. ‘Yeah, sure,’ he said. ‘I can lend a hand. The mare’s used to me anyway. I can teach you guys to ride, if you’ve got the patience for it.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ Cai said, leaning forward, jigging his knees up and down a mile a minute. ‘And if we’re reinforcing, we should make it fun. Like, a proper maze, with secret turns and false walls. Booby traps! So if they get in, they’ll wish they hadn’t, like!’

One of the toddlers, Ben, spat out a mouthful of grass and started to cry. Cherry pulled him onto her lap and comforted him. ‘I wish I could be of more help.’

‘You’re helping just by looking after the kids,’ Kurt smiled. ‘But maybe we could start teaching them some sort of protocol too? To run and hide if one gets in?’

Lola scanned the group, watching as Pebbles whispered something into Katie’s ear.

Katie raised her hand. ‘Pebbles wants to know what happens if they just learn to get through the new fence?’

‘They won’t,’ stated Kurt, looking at Lola. ‘Will they?’

She wasn’t so sure. She tugged anxiously at the edge of her sleeve, eyes flicking to the horizon, scanning for any sign of them. 

‘I’m going to see if CryCast is broadcasting,’ she said, to no one in particular.