Them or Us

can make out the outline of the picture of the woman’s face I remember, staring at the truck parked in the cowshed before Peter Sutton showed me the bunker. That’s definitely the van I drove away from Hinchcliffe’s factory yesterday. Jesus Christ, they must have made it. Joseph and the others made it to Southwold! I quickly scan the length of the pier again, this time focusing on the collection of ramshackle wooden buildings on the walkways that stretch out over the ocean—and there, some sheltering from the blizzard in empty gift shops and cafés, others hanging out over the railings, waiting to catch sight of the boat that’s never going to come, I see them. The last of the Unchanged. I make myself move again. Got to get down there.
    Heading down the tightly spiraling steps is infinitely easier than climbing up. I stumble down quickly and trip out of the door, then start moving toward the pier, wishing I could go faster but knowing I can’t. Not much energy left, now. Not much time left, either. I head directly for the ocean, moving in a straight line down through the ruins until I reach the promenade, then start the long walk up toward the pier, the bitter wind feeling like it’s knocking me two steps sideways for every step I manage to take forward. The snow is like a dense fog again now, and I’m walking blind, but eventually the building at the shore end of the pier looms large ahead of me, a once proud and grand facade that’s now as crumbling and worn as everything else.
    “McCoyne,” a voice shouts at me, and I look around for whoever’s yelling. Can’t tell where it came from or who it was. Didn’t sound like Joseph. Was it Parker or one of the others? The noise of the wind and the waves just adds to the confusion, and I keep moving forward. I stop when I reach the van and the truck and look back. Someone’s walking toward me, following me from the town. Can’t make out who it is. He starts to speed up, but whoever it is, he’s clearly struggling. Is he injured? I take a couple of steps back toward him, then stop. Fuck, it’s Hinchcliffe. I try to get away, but despite his injuries he’s still too fast for me, his hate and anger driving him on, oblivious to his pain. He reaches out and grabs my shoulder, then spins me around and throws me back against the side of the van. The noise echoes through the air like a gunshot, and I bounce back off the metal toward him, straight into his fist. He catches me hard on the chin, and I slam back against the van again, then drop to the ground, face numb, head filled with blinding pain. He picks me up by the collar again, lifting me until our faces are just inches apart. My feet are off the ground, toes barely scraping the slush.
    “Hinchcliffe, I—”
    “What the hell are you trying to do? I should kill you right now.”
    “That’s your answer to everything.”
    He throws me back against the van again, and I drop to my knees. I watch him as he comes toward me, drenched with his own blood, fist raised ready to strike again and finish me off. I don’t have the strength to defend myself anymore. Just let it happen …
    “I don’t understand,” he says. “Why, Danny? You could’ve had it all.”
    “What, like you?” I manage to spit at him, my mouth filled with blood. “We’ve all lost everything, you stupid bastard, and it’s all thanks to people like you. The more you try to take, the more stuff slips through your fingers, didn’t you realize that? You started with a whole town and ended up barricaded into one corner of it. Even then you were a virtual prisoner in the courthouse. You’ve lost that now and there’s nothing left. It’s over. It’s all gone. Just leave me alone, Hinchcliffe.”
    Still staring down at me and breathing hard, he takes a step back, then runs forward and punches his fist into the side of the van. I slowly pick myself up, dribbling red into the snow around my feet.
    “Just kill me if you’re going to. Why don’t you just get it over with?”
    “Because you’re still useful. Look around you, Danny. The fact you’re here at all just proves my point. There are people still fighting and dying in Lowestoft, but you’re safe. We’re safe. It’s like you’ve been observing the rest of us, only getting involved and getting your hands dirty when you absolutely have to.”
    “Or when you forced me to.”
    “Look what you achieved—”
    “I’ve achieved nothing, Hinchcliffe. I’ve lost everything,