Beyond the Horizon(An apocalypse novel)

Chapter 1: Miles

The sound of waves crashing into a cliff stirred his muddled consciousness. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

A blue expanse washed in the orange tinges of a setting sun created subtle, calming shades of pink and purple.

He was at the beach again.

The boy had no clue how he got there this time, but he couldn’t be bothered to think too hard about it.

There were bruises and aches from multiple points on his huddled frame, but he couldn’t be bothered with those either.

He was much too engrossed in the sight before him, in the feel of the sand beneath him. It held him like a womb.

It was safety.

But slowly, yet surely, the sun sank beyond the horizon. An unexplainable anxiety rose within him as the world darkened.

With the darkness came silence.

He wasn’t meant to be here.

He could tell that much. It was getting cold, and he wasn’t supposed to stay in cold places. There was something else, somewhere else he needed to be.

Yet the mere thought of that place made his bruises burn, his aches scream.

A plea.

To stay, to not turn back, back to that place. Regardless of the cold, something else was waiting there, something worse.

He froze. Stuck between choices he couldn’t fully understand, and in his indecision, the last light died out, plunging him into an abyss.

A bone-chilling cold crept up his spine, then throughout his body, forcing him to curl inward, trying to preserve the meager warmth he had.

He shivered. Scared.

There was something lurking in the darkness; the boy could feel its hungry gaze watching him.

"...iles."

A whisper that originated from everywhere and nowhere at once.

The boy only curled further in response.

"Mi... les."

It was louder now; the sand below him slowly shifted. Footsteps.

"Miles."

The sand shook even more violently; the heavy thuds of something rushing towards him accelerated.

"MILES!"

Hands. Multiple. Sharp. Heavy. Burst from the sand, from the sky, from all around him. Each grabbed a portion of him and squeezed.

Tearing into him.

He screamed.

---

"Miles, wake up!"

Miles shot up, drenched in cold sweat. He took deep breaths, trying to ground himself back in reality.

’A dream. A dream. A dream.’

It was all a dream, the fragments of which had already begun slipping through the gaps of his memory.

"Another nightmare?"

He turned to face the voice. A girl, no more than ten years of age, stood by his door, already dressed in a school uniform with a bag slung across her back.

His sister. Not quite.

There was a look of concern on her face.

Miles shook his head before replying.

"No. It’s nothing. I was just a little surprised. That’s all."

"Mhm..."

Her voice betrayed her disbelief. Not that he was going to point it out.

Thankfully, she was willing to move to other topics.

"I’m leaving now. Dad’s already ordered takeout for breakfast; be sure to meet him downstairs when you’re ready."

Miles ran a hand through his black hair.

"Yeah, thanks, Anny."

Anny nodded, looked to the side, hesitating, as though she wanted to say something. In the end, she left without speaking.

Miles looked out the window at the grey sky beyond it before violently rubbing his face.

’There’s school today.’

That thought was the last push he needed to get himself out of bed and into the bathroom.

One quick shower later, and he was throwing on some slacks and a black hoodie for school. He never stopped being grateful to his school for having relaxed dress codes.

A final look in the mirror revealed the same old face. Pale skin, black, slightly long hair, and grey eyes. He stared at the image for a moment before shaking his head and going downstairs.

The stairs led directly to the sitting room, where, unsurprisingly, he found a forty-or-so-year-old man strewn across it.

The man had practically become a permanent fixture on the damned thing.

Noticing movement, he turned to face the stairs, a tired grin on his lips.

"You’re up early."

Miles scratched his head a little before replying.

"I overslept a bit."

"Been there."

The man slammed his head back into the couch’s arm, dragging a half-filled bottle closer to himself. Needless to say, the room was drenched in the scent of alcohol.

Not that Miles cared; he’d been living with this for nearly a year.

"Food’s in the kitchen if you want it."

"Thanks, Henry—I mean, Dad."

Henry waved nonchalantly.

"Call me whatever you like."

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing and went straight to the kitchen.

A rumpled McDonald’s bag sat smack dab at the center of the small dining table. Miles paused at the sight, taking a hesitant glance at the room behind him before speaking.

"Is this what Anna ate?"

Henry groaned before replying.

"No... uh... I fed her those leftovers you made last night. Much healthier, in my opinion."

’So, you do know.’

"Oh. I’ll try waking up early tomorrow."

"Just don’t stress yourself out, kid."

Miles let out a small sigh of relief at that. He could only blame himself for not waking up early enough to make a proper breakfast for them.

It was too late to whip up anything now.

So he plopped onto the nearest seat before wolfing down the slightly cold burger with some soggy fries.

He was done in minutes.

With that, he quickly ran through all the dishes before picking a bag from a corner and heading for the door.

Before he left, Henry groaned again, flipping onto his belly so he could look straight at Miles. His voice came out groggy.

"You’re a lifesaver, you know, Miles?"

Miles paused, scanning Henry before speaking.

"You’re drunk, right?"

It was always a rhetorical question at this point.

"No, no, seriously. I can’t believe I get to adopt you and still get government checks on the side. What sickos would even abandon you in the first place—"

Henry stopped once he noticed Miles’s head lowered, eyes cast to the side.

"I... I’m sorry. What I mean to say is, you’re a good kid, Miles."

"Thanks."

The boy hesitated, then left.

Henry’s gaze landed on the bottle beside him, and then he sighed.

"Ah... I did it again."