OUTSIDE
a post-apocalyptic novel
Book One
Shalini Boland
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Copyright © Shalini Boland 2011
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This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior permission of the author.
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https://www.shaliniboland.co.uk
Prologue
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The woman swung the huge armoured vehicle out through the iron gates and turned left onto the poor excuse for a dirt track that ran parallel to the Perimeter. She remembered when Britain was open and free with real roads, pavements even, before all the trouble started.
As she turned, the full glare of the dying evening sun blinded her and she flicked on the windscreen filter. She heard a muffled thud, looked to her left and saw a dark figure lying by the side of the fence. She didn’t stop, but glanced in her wing mirror and made brief eye contact with him as he lifted his head.
‘A man,’ she breathed out, realising she’d been holding her breath for quite a time. She sucked in another lungful of air and felt a lip-biting pang of concern, realising she must have hit him. But everybody knew you didn’t stop for anything outside the Perimeter. I’m sure he’ll be okay. She reasoned, convinced and then banished her conscience.
‘Won’t be long now,’ she said to herself, looking ahead at the vast tract of wilderness.
Chapter One
Riley
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Pa is a black marketeer. Nobody and everybody knows this. Pa pays people not to rock the boat. He pays the guards, he pays the neighbours and he even pays his friends. He pays off just about everyone – a litre of whisky here and a bag of sugar there, and in return we live a life of ease and comfort. Pa believes in the carrot approach just as much as the punishing stick. As long as he doesn’t draw too much attention to himself from the wrong quarters, we’re safe and free.
Pa can get his hands on just about anything from before. If you’ve got a craving for a pot noodle he can probably magic one up from somewhere. But it’ll cost you all you’ve got and more besides. He isn’t swayed by threats or tears. He’ll hold fast and stare you down and if you can’t pay you might get a bullet in your head, or worse.
This morning, my parents are standing together in the doorway of the sitting room. Behind me, the sun floods in through the windows and they edge closer to avoid squinting into the too-bright light.
Their faces are ghost white and Ma’s nose and eyes are pink and swollen. She shivers and her teeth chatter as though she’s chilled and it isn’t the warm July morning it appears to be.
‘Riley, can you sit down?’ Pa asks.
‘Okay,’ I say. They’re acting weird. It’s freaking me out. My legs are heavy wood and I’m not sure I can make the three feet required to reach the sofa.
‘Okay,’ I repeat. But I don’t move. I just keep looking from one to the other and they stare back almost as if they’re afraid of me.
‘Riley, sit down,’ Pa says.
I walk to the sofa and sit in one corner with my hands on my lap. The leather is cool against my legs in the warmth of the room. Fear has travelled up from my stomach to my throat and I can’t swallow. I feel sick.
‘Riley,’ he says, running his hands slowly through his hair.
‘No!’ Ma loses it. She sobs and stumbles towards me. Sits and buries h