August 2008: I've been through this entire story and edited it slightly. Mostly it was to remove the constant Britishisms, which annoyed me no end. Concrit would be greatly appreciated on this story, in case I missed anything.

Survival
1. The End Was My Beginning

It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.
-REM

Almost immediately after walking in, Ray and Rachel had gone to sleep on the sofa. Ray had woken last, and now Rachel wasn't there, and nor was anyone else.

"Hello?" he yelled, loud enough to wake the dead. "Rachel? Robbie?"

"I'm here," Rachel said, sticking her head around the door. "There's a sofa bed upstairs. Mum says you'll either have to share it or sleep there again tonight."

Ray remembered exactly where he was, and who he was with, and was so relieved he sat down again. "What time is it, Rachel?" he asked.

"I dunno," she said. "But it's still Saturday."

The same day. Earlier that morning a giant alien fighting machine had fallen down right near them, earlier today there'd been aliens...

"Rachel..." he said, noticing for the first time. "You need a bath."

"So do you," she answered. "But there's not much water. I can have a bath but after that we gotta ration it."

What about me? Ray thought, but he figured it didn't really matter.

"Mom says we might have to use rain water or something, when ours runs out," Rachel said, matter-of-factly. "Are you all right? I can save the bath water, if you like, so..."

"No. No, Rach," Ray said. "I'll be fine. I'm not that dirty."

"You are," said another voice. This time it was Maryann, who had appeared behind her daughter. "You can use the shower. It'll be alright, I'm sure things won't get too drastic..." She trailed off. Ray hoped she was using understatement on purpose.

"What about food?" he asked, as it occured to him for the first time.

"Well," Maryann said, gently pushing Rachel out of the room and waiting until she'd gone, "there isn't much. That's the thing, you see," she said quietly, "there's only enough to last a few days, then...I don't imagine the shops will be open..." She gave a tiny, almost hysterical, laugh.

"Well, you never know," Ray said. "It's not like everybody's..."

But it was very, very quiet. There weren't any cars outside, or sirens in the distance, or any music playing anywhere...and looking out of the window, there was no-one in the street. Half the entire world was dead.

"...so," Ray said, "The things, the aliens, they're dead, you know. The ones that were here in Boston. And the rest...I dunno... " The I dunno terrified him. He was only just beginning to think straight again.

"Yes," Maryann said. And then, in a small voice, "We have, after all, been expecting to die for the past few days."

What on earth could you answer to that? "If we need food at all, I should go."

"Don't go."

Rachel was back.

"Don't go," she said again, "they're still out there."

A thousand disaster scenarios ran through Ray's head: the aliens would be back. Even now they were shaking off whatever had killed a couple of them, and they'd destroy Boston, and whatever else was still standing...it was bordering on the stupidly optimistic to think otherwise.

He threw up on the carpet. It felt horrible. Maryann, to her credit, barely batted an eyelid.

"Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up," she said.

He staggered off to the tiny bathroom under the stairs. He splashed water on his face, rubbed the dirt off as well...and then the images came. All the little things he'd been too terrified to really notice: the burning train, the burning trees, the dead bodies in the river...

He was sick again, in the toilet this time. He went through the cleaning up process once more, and let himself out. He found himself face-to-face with Maryann's mother, the children's grandmother, Anna. She was not his favourite person, and he knew he wasn't hers.

"Sorry," he muttered, and walked past her to the living room. But she stepped in his way, a funny look on her face.

"I didn't think you'd come back," she said. "Well done."

"Um." was his answer. He figured that was as close to gratitude as he was going to get from her. "Thanks." Then he went back to the living room- Maryann was there, sitting on the sofa with Rachel on her lap. The vomit on the floor had been cleaned up and covered by a rug.

Something occured to Ray. "Is the TV working?"

"No," Maryann said. "No electricity. So no radio either. We've got nothing."

Ray turned from her and looked out of the window- there was still no-one there. For the first time since arriving at this undoubtedly safe place, panic began to set in- what if they were supposed to starve to death now? Just to finish off the job?

Then he thought of something. "Where's Robbie?" he asked.

"Upstairs," Rachel said.

Ray climbed the stairs, and tried the first door he came to. It was a bedroom, but Robbie wasn't in there. He tried all the other rooms, but he was nowhere to be found. Ray was just beginning to panic (and how could he not, after seeing what he assumed was Robbie's death?) when he thought of something. He went back to the first room, went to the large wooden wardrobe, and pulled it open. Robbie was there. He looked up, but didn't say anything.

So Ray spoke first. "You used to hide in wardrobes all the time," he said, "when you were a little kid."

"I was looking for Narnia," Robbie said tonelessly, and climbed out. He looked like he had no idea what to do with himself, and never would again. Then he said, "Look out of the window."

Ray crossed to the window, quietly dreading seeing anything out there- there could be piles of dead bodies, or dead aliens...but it wasn't quite as bad. It was a helicopter, or most of a helicopter. It was crashed outside, taking up all of the large back garden and the part of the one next to it. The grass and trees were burnt, so it must have come down in flames. People had probably been in there at the time.

"Oh god," Ray said. "If that'd hit the house..."

"We're lucky it didn't," Robbie said. "It was a near miss...we've had far too many near misses, you noticed?"

Ray turned around to face him, and couldn't think of a single thing to say that would sound right. So instead he said, "Tell me what happened to you."

"No," Robbie said. And then he added, "I haven't told anyone."

"Then it's about time you did," Ray said.

"You'll hate me."

"I won't," Ray said, a vague dread sneaking up on him now. "You tell...and..."

"And what?"

"And I'll tell you what happened to me."

"No...you go first," Robbie said.

"No, you go first."

"You go."

"I think you should," It occured to him then that this really wasn't fair on Robbie, and he was about to take back what he'd just said when Robbie said, "All right- I tried to shoot someone, all right?"

Ray almost laughed, awful as that was. "Is...is that all?"

"Yeah," Robbie said.

"Why'd you try and shoot someone?"

"I found a gun on the floor, and it was still working, and there was all this...shooting going on...this was after the fire, I just missed the fire, I jumped on one of the trucks...the truck turned around later, that was when the shooting started..." He paused for a second. "I dunno what really happened, but someone tried to throw me out, they said if you want to fight go out there then, and I was too scared...everyone else was getting out of the truck and I just stayed..." He sounded like he was going to be sick. "So I pointed the gun at this guy, and said he had to drive the truck away from there or I'd shoot him..."

He stopped.

"So what did the guy do?" Ray asked.

"He...I can't remember...he tried to get the gun off me, but I...I dunno what I did..." And now he seemed very far away. "I just kept saying over and over, I'll fucking kill you...and he drove the truck off, and threw me off, and took the gun, and...that's it, I think. Then I started walking back here."

"That's it?" Ray asked quietly.

"Yeah."

"Robbie, that's not so bad...you didn't actually hurt anyone." That sounded so false, but he had to mean it.

"I was going to shoot him, though," Robbie said, back to the monotone voice. "I really thought I would..."

"Yeah, but you didn't..."

Robbie edged away from him. "Now you have to say what happened to you,"

Ray's heart sank. "Alright," he said. "Alright...I can't save it for later, can I?"

"That's not fair."

Ray looked away from him, out of the window, and knew he wouldn't be able to say it, that he would have to lie, lie to his son...

"I killed a man with my bare hands."

Silence...well, that was predictable. Ray looked at Robbie.

"Oh," Robbie said. And then, "Why...?"

He looked utterly shocked, not emotionless at all any more, and Ray didn't think he'd even be able to remember the answer to why. He wanted to go back to sleep.

"He was...he was putting your sister in danger...I didn't want to..."

But Robbie still looked faintly shocked.

"You...how?"

"I can't remember." That was true. "I just...I didn't want to kill him, alright?"

But it was hopeless. Really fucking hopeless...of course he'd wanted to, because he had had to keep Rachel alive. He'd killed someone, and there was no getting around that. He was a murderer. Dear god.

"What was he doing?" Robbie asked. "I mean...did he have a gun?"

"He was shouting," Ray said. "He was going to bring the aliens to us." Now there was a sentence he'd never thought he'd say. In fact, here was a situation he'd never thought he'd be in, and had certainly never wanted to be in. "So..."

"But did he have a gun?" Robbie asked again.

"I can't remember."

Throughout the conversation Robbie had remained rooted to the spot. Now he glanced around as if not sure where to go. "I suppose," he said gloomily, "that you're not the only one who did something like that."

"No," Ray said. "Come here..." He meant to give him a hug and say he was sorry, but Robbie shook his head and went away.

Ray cursed under his breath, then he remembered something.

"Hey Robbie, I forgot- I brought down one of those things. A tripod...I brought it down."

Robbie stopped dead.

"You did what?"

"It picked me up, me and your sister, I had some grenades and blew it up from the inside."

Robbie's eyes widened like he was looking at a ghost. "You were in one? You blew it up? And you forgot to tell me?"

"Sorry." And then he hastily explained everything: the brief stay in the cellar with the dead body rotting somewhere out of sight, the alien probe, the cages, the grenades, and being in the darkness with someone pulling him back. He knew perfectly well why he'd forgotten to mention it; because it had barely sunk in.

"Other people dragged you out?" Robbie asked breathlessly. "People you didn't even know?"

"Yeah."

"I..." Robbie shook his head. "I...don't believe it. Not like that," he added. "I know you did it, I just don't believe it."

"I know the feeling," He smiled very, very feebily. "I never used to believe in aliens."

Robbie took that completely seriously. "Me neither. I bet half the world didn't, and now most of them are dead."