Epilogue
Rain spatters the window of the bus.
It’s stuffy and hot, damp bodies crammed against each other, wet brollies and macs dripping on the grubby floor. There’s a ripe aroma of sweat, stale alcohol and the inevitable McDonald’s that someone, somewhere, is eating.
I quite like taking the bus, despite the crush, the smell, oh, and there it is – the sound of someone listening to loud bass music on their headphones. There’s something comfortingly mundane about a bus trip. And mundane is my new happy place.
My stop is up next, so I ring the bell and worm my way out of the crush of wet commuters.
I hop off the bus straight into a puddle.
It’s a five-minute walk – or squelch – down the street from the bus stop to our home, a handsome, bay-fronted property in a posh suburb that we could only dream of living in before Serenity, or ‘before insanity’, as I sometimes joke.
Although not often. Even three years on, it’s still a little too raw.
Sadie and I don’t talk about Serenity Falls much.
We’ve both attempted to leave it in the past, like the rotting entrails of a bad nightmare. Gone, but not quite forgotten.
Surprisingly, the house in Serenity Falls sold in just a few weeks.
It’s funny how many people want to buy a place in the notorious town where the people running it tried to kill the residents.
That was the official story. Killing people for their money.
The Mafia might have been involved too. They usually are.
The Conservators, the Hub, ‘the Flood’ were all contained. Lorraine and Freya will spend the rest of their lives in a secure facility (no mention of a trial). Somewhere with fitted jackets and nice padded walls, I imagine.
I doubt the truth will ever come out. The people involved are too powerful. The implications too devastating. The whole thing too fucking nuts. For now, Serenity is just a town again. A pretty town with a not so pretty history. People love that shit.
Sadie has stayed in touch with Ellis, who’s remained in Serenity with her dad. Lockhart is head of a new council that is running things now, transforming Serenity Falls into the place it always should have been. Quaint, quirky, imperfect.
Sadie and Ellis talk most nights via Zoom or Facetime.
I’m not sure if it’s a romantic relationship or if they’ve settled into just being friends.
There are mutterings about Ellis coming to visit at some point next summer.
But then, she was also supposed to visit last summer, and the spring before that.
I’m not holding my breath, but I don’t say this to Sadie.
Sadie has a new bunch of friends, at university and work.
She’s studying media and communications, and she seems happy, settled and remarkably unscarred by our experience.
However, I know she doesn’t sleep well, and sometimes I’ll catch her staring absently into space, an odd look on her face, and I know she’s revisiting. I do the same.
For my part, I occasionally receive a text from Hailey or Davey. He moved in with his cousin and grandmother. He helps Hailey care for May, and Hailey says his presence has helped her condition.
‘She knows who he is – and she knows she isn’t crazy.’
He doesn’t see much of his dad, Father Miller. I’m glad. Some dads don’t deserve children.
Lights glow in the bay window as I approach our house.
It looks warm and inviting. I unlock the door and step inside, shaking the rain from my coat on to the mat.
Then I kick off my trainers and relish the warmth of the underfloor heating seeping through my socks.
I’ve just draped my damp coat on the rack beside the door when I hear the scrabbling of claws on tiles. Derek.
I crouch down. A furry brown-and-white rocket launches itself into my arms. Yeah, we got a dog.
A scruffy rescue. A mix of, well, I don’t know the hell what.
He’s loving, a little crazy, an idiot with other dogs, scared to death of the doorbell, and we wouldn’t be without him.
Although it was a close call when he dug up Zelda from the back garden.
Twice. Finally, Sadie agreed to have Zelda cremated.
She keeps her in a small cat-shaped urn in her room.
‘Come on, fella,’ I say to Derek, and he trots happily after me into the kitchen. There’s a note on the table.
Derek walked and fed. Lasagne in fridge. Yes, I am wonderful. No, you don’t deserve me. Love, Sadie.
I smile, and then, as often happens when I think about my beautiful, fierce daughter, the smile fades a little, diluted by sadness.
I still get the headaches. Whatever the bracelets and the transmissions did, they’ve caused damage.
Whether it will be long term, I don’t know.
I want to see Sadie grow up into a beautiful young woman.
But time is the one thing we can’t buy or negotiate or beg for, however rich or powerful we are.
The most we can hope is that our kids are safe, happy and have people around who care for them.
I open the fridge, take out a sparkling water and sit down at the kitchen table with my laptop.
I log on to a few forums, scan a few websites.
Some people would probably call these conspiracy sites or doomsday forums. However, I’ve become friends with a few people on them; people I wouldn’t have given the time of day three years ago, dismissing them as nutjobs or part of the tinfoil-hat brigade. Times change. I’ve changed.
We update each other on what’s going down, stuff the news won’t tell you.
There’s been a measles epidemic sweeping Texas, the polio outbreak in Alabama shows no sign of slowing, a new strain of bird flu is spreading across Europe, and there are sporadic but persistent rumours of a new virus – some are calling it a sleeping sickness.
I read the chats, swig my water and then, inevitably, I sit back and take out the slightly worn card that I keep in my wallet. It’s blue and embossed with the logo of the Winsom Corporation.
A man gave it to me two years ago. A man I had never met before who turned up unannounced on my doorstep one evening while Sadie was at work. I don’t know how they found out my address, but I’m sure they knew I would be home, alone.
I didn’t see any point in slamming the door in the man’s face. I had a feeling we would be having this conversation at some point, one way or another.
Instead, I led him through to the kitchen, made coffee, and we sat down at the table.
The man wore a light grey suit and carried a small briefcase. He had a pleasant, open face and a mop of sandy hair. He looked like he would be more at home in a peaked cap serving ice-cream out of a van.
‘So,’ he had said, ‘I’ll cut to the chase, Mr Barker. My name is Sandy Robbins from the Winsom Corporation.’
Sandy’s Scoops, I thought. Over 100 flavours.
He handed me a card. ‘I won’t rehash the unfortunate events that happened in Serenity Falls. Suffice to say, there has been a change of management at the Corporation and we’re moving forward in a positive, new direction.’
‘That’s great to hear. Killing less people is always a good thing, right?’
His smile faltered, just a notch. He ploughed on: ‘You must be aware that you are Harold Winsom’s sole heir.’
‘What about Freya?’
‘I don’t know anyone of that name.’
He stared at me, daring me to disagree.
I nodded slowly. ‘Of course.’
‘As such, you have inherited all his shares in the company, plus various properties.’
Sandy took a folder out of his briefcase and slid it across the table. ‘It’s all in this portfolio.’
I flipped it open and glanced at a couple of sheets. Figures danced before my eyes. Ridiculously large figures. I slammed the portfolio closed again.
‘I don’t care. I don’t want anything to do with the Corporation.’
‘We thought you might say that. In which case, I have a few forms for you to sign, and you can cash out your shares with no further commitment.’ He paused.
‘However, I am obligated to tell you that we’re building a new community, in New England.
Obviously, we’ve learnt from the mistakes made in Serenity Falls.
This town will be an entirely ethical project.
You and your daughter will always have a place there if you want. ’
He leaned forward, still smiling. ‘It’s coming, Mr Barker. A trickle, a deluge and then the Flood. You might want to make provision for your future or, at least, your daughter’s future.’
He placed a card on the table. ‘When you’re ready … Harmony awaits.’
I turn the card over in my fingers. Then I slip it in my pocket and retrieve my cigarettes from the kitchen drawer where I keep them hidden under a pile of tea towels. I’m quitting as soon as Sadie starts back at uni.
I open the back door and a cold, autumn breeze drifts in. Derek huffs in disapproval and heads back to his bed to massacre a soft toy.
I stare out into the darkness. Water is pouring out of a hole in the guttering above my head.
A trickle, a deluge and then the Flood.
I should call someone about that, I think.
Then I light a cigarette. And I watch the rain fall.