The Horses of Wooldale Road (Part 3 of 3)

You can read part one here: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/horses-wooldale-road-part-1-3

You can read part two here: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/horses-wooldale-road-part-2-3

The Horses of Wooldale Road (Part 3 of 3)

Our game of chess progressed with outside now in darkness. The only light was from the faint hue of battery-powered lamps. Street lighting had been decommissioned as a part of ongoing rationing. Electricity was in short supply and worked intermittently. Despite the severe heat of the day, nights could be conversely as cold. This was not one of those evenings. Beads of sweat pooled above our eyebrows.

“You must have chaos to give birth to a dancing star.” Ivan sounded sage. I guessed he was quoting Nietzsche again. “Do you ever tire of all this? He asked.

“What? Playing chess with an old goat?” I tried to smile but failed, sunk in the reflection of his gloom.

“Ah this life can be so long. So much to live for at times, yet, perhaps, nothing at others.” Ivan peered into the distance as though he was looking at something.

“But we will always have chess, my friend.” I tried to sound reassuring but the words just sounded hollow. We had been friends for over twenty years and been through a lot together.  Much of our shared experience had been the drip, drip of tragedy although we had many good times too.

“And now I must take my leave.” Ivan stood up even though the game was, as yet, unresolved. I watched him as he shuffled towards the hallway and let himself out. Instead of turning right towards his house, his shadow veered left across my front garden. I drifted over to the window once more and followed him with my eyes as he made his way towards the end of the close and the adjoining road. Something felt wrong. For a few seconds, I pondered what to do. And then decided to pursue. He was venturing out into dangerous streets.

The front door clicked behind me and I hustled as quickly as a septuagenarian can in the direction that Ivan had left. My eyes took a while to adjust to the gloom. The only light to go by was that emanating from houses. It was faint but just enough to be able to get a sense of direction. I could just make out a blurred shape ahead, navigating the street. He seemed to be heading for what used to be Caroline Chisholm School. A sinister thought popped into my head and I began to fear the worst.

Ivan made good ground for one so old and I struggled to keep within a reasonable distance. There was the usual cornucopia of strange people weaving between roads and houses, peddling illicit wares. I navigated looks of intimidation from nocturnal roamers.

Looking up, I saw vague, dark blobs in the sky. If you listened carefully, you could hear the humming of the metallic, box-shaped drones that hovered above. They were monitoring below for miscreants. Most minor misdemeanours were ignored but crimes like burglary or assault were not. Whilst many of the occupants of housing estates had weapons to defend themselves against intruders, enforcement from the security forces was swift and brutal for those found violating the law.

Ivan was being approached by shady figures wearing balaclavas and hoodies. They would have been looking to peddle little, silver canisters of nitrous oxide amongst other things. Ivan would shake his head and press on. As the dealers turned away from him and noticed me in his wake, I would signal that I wasn’t interested either and keep on track. I regretted not taking my shotgun with me. I wondered whether Ivan had one with him but doubted it as I would have noticed it when he left.

Emerging from a patch of former green land that was now a wasteland of scorched earth, Caroline Chisholm came into view. Having made his way through several housing estates, I could see that Ivan was making his way on the winding path that dissected numerous tents and the occasional, broken down campervan. Children played amongst the makeshift settlements with silhouetted parents milling about, exchanging cigarettes and chatting about how life once was.

The school looked like Old Trafford from a distance even if it was now yet another government installation. From the outside, the Academy had the appearance of a football stadium enhanced further by being surrounded by a meadow on one side and farm land on the other. Access to the main body of the buildings was via a service road that branched off Wooldale Road. The entire place was protected by a tall, iron fence that was painted green. Watch towers with floodlights ringed the complex. It had been home to students and teachers once. Now it was a secretive building with covert operations being conducted where classrooms once hosted children. It was also a place where people could take matters into their own hands and end their lives. Euthanasia was legal and a steady stream of volunteers could be seen entering the building most days.

From the far side of the road, I could see Ivan making his way through the car parks having entered via the service road. He was heading towards the front of the building. By now, I was tired. It had been a mile walk and seemed so much further at our age. Notwithstanding, I had a chance to catch up with him if I got a wriggle on. Ivan was at the wide, brick steps that led up to what was formerly a glass-fronted library. Everywhere was lit brightly by an array of lights dotted about. Two men stood sentry at the top of the stairs. Both wore whitecoats and one had an electronic tablet, presumably to register details. To the left of the “library” was a checkpoint. Beyond it was a concourse with rows of rooms on both sides and a roof arching overhead. An iron grill extended from the checkpoint booth across to the other side denying access other than via the armed sentries manning the checkpoint.

I hustled and hurried. Just as my friend and neighbour reached the top step, I got close enough to tap him on the shoulder. I stopped and bent over to catch my breath. Ivan turned and looked astounded that it was me trying to grab his attention.

“Please wait, my friend. I know what you are doing. You….you cannot. I implore you.” I stared intently in an attempt to emphasise my plea. As much as I was out of breath, the statement held firm and the words were true.

“I am tired. I am so tired. Here I will find peace. Escape from a world where there is nothing left. You must let me go.” He reached out and held both my hands in his. He had never looked older than at that moment.

For a few seconds we said nothing. We had both seen so much death over the years. It was now simply part of life’s daily fabric. Many had become desensitised to dying and it was thought of as a blessed release from the misery of existence. 

“But who will I play chess with?” My eyes pleaded and a faint smile reached his lips. He turned and took the last few steps and started speaking to one of the waiting men.

I stood there and, realising he had made his decision, I quietly descended to the bottom step and sat down. I looked up into the sky. One of the positive changes in these days of the apocalypse was that light pollution was so much less. Stars spilled out across the horizon. I could see the clouds of the Milky Way and wondered if Heaven sat behind one of them. I wondered whether Ivan would find a place amongst the infinite number of Heavenly bodies. I pondered if there was a Heaven at all. A meteor shower was taking place over to the west in the distance. I thought to myself how beautiful life could be in amongst so much darkness. I sat there for a while. My body ached from the walking.

I was one of those people who had never quite made their peace with the Grim Reaper. I still thought of someone’s final breath as an ethereal wisp of smoke leaving their mouth, the soul going on its final journey to destination unknown. Maybe this was my way of dealing with mortality. My mind wandered as I remembered the good times I had enjoyed with Ivan. We had endured. I guess it couldn’t last forever.

I rose to my feet ready to go home. I felt a sadness running though my entire body. I faced a future of being totally alone. Ivan was my only friend. I avoided contact with all others except for the occasional bootleg transaction. As I took a step, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. With a faint smile, Ivan was staring back at me.

“Maybe one more game of chess then. In Heaven, all the interesting people are missing.” He whispered.

“Ah, more Nietzsche.” I reflected.

We both smiled, put our arms around each other’s shoulders and looked up at the skies. Maybe we were now the horses of Wooldale Road; horses out to pasture looking to spend the rest of their lives looking back on what once was. Hoping a brighter future would come around once more.

Image free to use at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:ESO-VLT-Laser-phot-33a-07.jpg

Author’s note:

This three-part story ended up at nearly 5,000 words. Still some way short of novella length although progress of sorts. The first part is based on the true story of wild horses that were local celebrities here in Northampton for many years. I wanted to extend the tale at some point as I felt that the robot couriers that had taken the place of the mares deserved to feature further. In the end, the continuation became subsumed by a dystopian future that borrows from Soylent Green (1973) – a movie that starred Charlton Heston – amongst other things.

With the issues the world is currently facing, it’s easy to extrapolate and paint a bleak vision of where we might all be in twenty years’ time. Mankind had limitless ability to solve most problems. Now is the time to put things right.