Winter Has Come | ✔ #1 Winter Series

Chapter 63

THERE IS ONE MORE CHAPTER AFTER THIS!! :(

I know everything, Sarah.

Yes I do. And now so does everyone else.

You know... everything?

I know, Sarah. I know where the trucks go. I know that you feed lies to the people of your Camp. I know that you're leading them to their death.

Well. You're a clever little girl for working that out.

Not smart enough. Not sm--

You see, I've got various people working for me, Amelia, and your little lover is one of them.

Lover? Really? Does everyone listening need to know that? Josh is not my lover, Sarah. That's the only bit you got wrong, at least.

And so I set up the Camp and Josh was told he had to start gathering people. The main goal was to bring everyone to the Scottish Highlands—the Camp, and then export them to the trucks, where they would be taken to their...

Death. Death. Death.

There isn't much time left for you. You know too much, you found out our darkest secret and we can't risk you here, alive. Yes, Amelia. You guessed it. You're going die today. There's a truck waiting for you outside.

There's a sound outside now in the silence. It's footsteps. And now I can hear voices. Angry cries from people as they listen and listen and absorb the truth. It's the first time they've discovered what's real and, as I guessed, it's not going down very well.

Your confession ends. Outside there's more shouting and more footsteps and now I can hear that they are screaming for your end and I can just imagine them fighting to get inside this tent. The guard are holding them back, fierce and strong. Or maybe they've turned against you. Maybe they've realised the truth just like me and everyone else.

I used to believe in you, Sarah. Even though I hated you, I thought your plans for the Camp were genuine.

Now there's a ripping sound and I look over to you. Your face only conveys one expression. Pure fear. Never experienced that feeling, Miller? Well, you learn something new every day.

Someone's coming in. Someone's coming for you. To kill you.

Bring you to your.

Death.

Enjoy dying, Sarah. Hope you'll learn something from it.

It's a man. He's wielding something big and it looks like a metal pole. Probably from one of his own tents.

You're probably going to get beaten to death, Sarah. And I will be here to watch it.

He advances towards you, fire in his eyes. He's furious and now he's yelling at you, bellowing something. His voice is so loud, sentences so muddled that I can't work out what it is.

He takes a step forward. You take one back.

Death. Death. Death.

Pole raised. It comes down on you and you scream, scream, scream your throat raw. I do the same but it's a laugh this time, a laugh. It signifies the madness inside of me, the joy of seeing red on the floor.

Red. Red. Red.

He steps back. You're slumped on the ground, eyes rolling. Red everywhere. And now more hands reaching forward, ripping at you, destroying you in every way possible.

Your own people turned against you, Sarah. I helped them.

You shouldn't have said anything. Shouldn't have gloated. Shouldn't have let me bring that recorder into the room.

Well, too late now.

Goodbye, Sarah. I'm leaving your tent now, fighting the rush of angry people, trying not to get bashed and hit with all the fists and anger and rage.

But I don't get far. A hand grabs my shoulder, pulls me away, away from the mob, the rebellion. I look up. A face I recognise. For a fleeting moment I think it's my father but instead it's someone else.

The Scottish man. The one we stole the truck from.

His face says it all. The glinting in his eyes. The smile on his lips. Triumph.

But he's not pleased about you, Sarah. There's something else that's making him so smug.

I see it now. The red and blue flashes of a police car.