Z-Minus

Z-MINUS: 6 HOURS 16 MINUTES

The grey of the city gave way to the greens and yellows of the surrounding countryside. The roads were windy, and although Chris was itching to open up the Porsche, he drove steady.

The road wound up a steep hill. Chris changed down a gear to power up the incline. He could feel the engine through the seat and steering wheel, and let it work up his arms and back. At the apex of the hill, the road turned left, almost doubling back on itself, and there, nestled below them between the folds of three large hilly mounds was the town of Nottingham. A few fires still raged, the smoke rising like Giant Egret plumes in a nobleman's hat.

"Let's play a game," Maisie said.

"Like what?"

"Let's talk about all the things we'll miss in the old world."

"All right."

Maisie closed her eyes and thought for a moment.

"Ah!" she said. "I'll miss watching cartoons on weekends."

There was a pause.

"Now what?" Chris said.

"Now you say something you'll miss."

He blew out a long puff of air.

"I'll miss... not sleeping in on weekends."

"But you can still do that."

"All right... I'll miss... I can't think of anything."

"Won't you miss all the food from the old world?"

Chris shook his head.

"Never really been into food," he said.

"You loved Mum's shepherd's pie."

"I pretended to love your mum's cooking."

"Really? You're a good actor."

"I try."

"Drink, then. You must miss that."

Chris nodded.

"But there's still plenty of that in the world," he said.

"TV!" Maisie said. "There's lots of great shows on these days."

"Never really watch it."

"Football?"

"Only while drinking. If it's not on, I'm not bothered."

"Films?"

"No."

"Art?"

Chris looked at her with a flat expression.

"Okay, not art," Maisie said.

She frowned. She opened her mouth, and then closed it.

"There must be something you'll miss," she said.

Chris's expression became far away then, as if he were trying to see into the distance but couldn't quite make out what was there.

"There is," he said finally. "But it's not something anyone can give back to me. It's gone forever now."

There was a long pause.

"I miss her too," Maisie said.

Chris looked over at his daughter sitting beside him, a miniature version of her mother. He felt a lump grow in the back of his throat. He concentrated on driving.

"I just need to make a quick stop," Chris said.

He turned left and followed the road around a long blind bend. He came to a remote village called Bingham. The inhabitants were busy nailing boards to house windows, no doubt barricading themselves in for a long wait. Chris came out the opposite end of the village and rounded a few more bends before coming to a building by the side of the road.

It was white-washed with pretty pink flowers in handmade pine flower boxes. Half a dozen cars and a handful of old bikes stood outside it. The building had a big picture of a stone on it, and the words, 'The Rock Pub'. Chris went inside.

Daylight was not welcome in the dingy interior. Heavy curtains had been put up over the windows. The place smelled of old wood and dashed dreams.

"Afternoon, Christopher," Amy the barmaid said. "I'm surprised to see you back here so soon. Then again, you're in here more than you're at home, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. What can I get you?"

"A bottle of whiskey, please. To go."

Amy put her hand on her hip and leaned on the bar with her other arm. Despite her oversized proportions she was an attractive woman with smooth skin.

"Now, you're not thinking of swigging this while you're driving now, are you?" she said.

"No, of course not."

"All right. But if I hear rumours of your drink driving, I'll bar you."

It was an empty threat, Chis knew. In all her twenty years of being barmaid at The Rock, she had never once barred anyone.

"Fair enough," Chris said.

"I've got the big bottle, or the mini-bar sized ones. Good for a single gulp."

"The small one's enough," Chris said. "Oh, and a fizzy drink, please."

Amy raised her eyebrows at that, but said nothing.

"That's eight pounds twenty pence," she said.

Chris handed over a tenner. While Amy got his change, Chris looked around at the pub's patrons. The regulars were still there from the previous night, hunched over their drinks alone at the bar or at a table. Even those with friends said nothing.

Chris was going to miss this place. He was glad he got to see it one last time. Amy handed him his change.

"Have a good one," Chris said.

"You too," Amy said.

Chris handed the fizzy drink to Maisie as he got into the car.

"What's that for?" Maisie said, gesturing to the miniature bottle of whiskey Chris had in his hand.

"A special moment," he said.

He tucked it into his pocket, released the clutch and drove off.