‘Quickly!’’ shouted Liz, standing at the exit and pushing the people out into safety. She counted them as they went. Ten, … twelve, … they emerged one by one from the smoke. Fifteen, sixteen, … she pushed them out through the door. Seventeen, eighteen, …
The last one, a teenage girl, staggered through the heat and the smoke, clutching at her throat. She was the nineteenth to emerge. There was no one behind her.
The organizer had said that twenty people were inside.
Liz grabbed at the teenager frantically. ‘Are you the last one?’ she demanded. ‘Is there anyone else inside?’
The girl nodded. ‘One more,’ she croaked. ‘A boy.’ A policeman led her out of the building.
Liz stared back at the raging fire inside. The noise and heat were overwhelming. She didn’t know how anyone could still be alive in there, but if a boy was trapped inside …
She filled her lungs with fresh air and dived back in, covering her nose with her hand.
Fire filled the entire building now and thick tangles of smoke made it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. The heat was almost intolerable. Liz groped her way along the wall, retracing her steps into the furnace. There was no one coming to meet her. She couldn’t bear to open her mouth to shout, and in any case the roar of the fire was deafening. Grimly she carried on in silence.
Her hand closest to the wall wrapped around something hard and angular – a black handle. She gripped it tightly. Below the handle was a red cylinder, fixed to the wall. A fire extinguisher. She ripped it from its bracket and pulled out the pin. Squeezing the trigger, she aimed the nozzle at the base of the fire in front of her. Pressurized water gushed from the hose, clearing a narrow path at her feet. She advanced forward, using the extinguisher to sweep out a safe route along the edge of the wall and around the corner to where the people had been waiting. There was no sign of anyone there. She wondered if she had made a mistake in her counting, but the girl had made it perfectly clear. A boy was trapped inside.
The fire extinguisher exhausted itself and she let it drop. The roar of the fire had grown so loud she didn’t even hear the clang of the cylinder against the floor.
To her left was the interior door she had seen earlier. Previously it had been ajar. Now it was closed.
She gripped the door handle, but let go instantly. The metal was intensely hot. She pushed it down with her elbow, using her sleeve to protect her from the heat. The door swung open and she almost fell through to the room beyond. She forced the door shut behind her. Immediately she felt the temperature drop several degrees.
She was in a dim room, lit only by the light from a high, narrow window. There were no other exits. Smoke was filling the air, but she could see clearly enough for now. Crouched below the window was a boy, aged about ten. He had wrapped a cloth over his face to keep the smoke at bay. His head was a mop of dark hair and his eyes peeped out at her like big brown berries.
The boy jumped up and ran to her. He seemed to be unhurt.
Liz gripped his hand tightly. She opened the door back to the main hall, but the flames burned fiercer than ever. The safe path she had cleared with the fire extinguisher was completely gone. The fire rose up through the open doorway, seizing the opportunity to follow her inside. She slammed the door shut in its face.
With dismay, she clutched the boy tight. There was no way out of here.
The boy broke away from her and pointed up.
The window. It was barely large enough for anyone to fit through. And yet, if she could give the boy a chance to escape, she had to try.
She crouched below the window, forming her hands into a step. There was no need to speak; the boy immediately placed one foot onto her clasped hands and gripped her shoulders with his fingers. Liz lifted him up, rising to her full height to power him all the way to the window.
The window was locked. She heard him fiddle with the locking mechanism, and then felt a rush of cold air as the window opened and the fire drew in fresh oxygen. The boy scrabbled to open the window wide and she felt his weight vanish as he pulled himself out.
She looked up and saw his feet disappearing through the open window.
She was alone now. The heat had built to an intensity that made her skin burn. The paint on the door was blistering and peeling away. Smoke seeped around the edges as the door began to fail. She backed away from it, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
A shout made her look up. At the open window a fireman’s face appeared. The face vanished and in its place a rope dropped down. Liz dived for it and began to climb. When she reached the top, she felt strong arms grip her and draw her through the window opening. It was tight, and she stuck fast for a moment, but suddenly she was free.
Flashing lights from fire engines and police cars dazzled her, but the fresh, cool air was the sweetest she had ever breathed.
Paramedics lifted her onto a stretcher and gave her oxygen. Gradually she felt her breathing returning to normal. The smell of smoke inside her lungs might never leave her again, but at least she was alive and safe. So was the boy. He stayed by her side while the medics ran checks on them both.
‘What’s your name?’ Liz asked him, through her parched throat.
‘Mihai,’ said the boy. ‘Is from Romania.’
‘And are your parents here?’
‘No. Are all dead,’ said the boy, matter-of-factly. ‘Is just me now.’
‘How old are you, Mihai?’
‘Is ten,’ he said. ‘What happens now?’
That was a very good question. They stayed with the paramedics for a while, but once Liz had recovered from the effects of smoke inhalation, the medical team told her she was free to go home. Mihai could go too, although it wasn’t clear that he had a real home to go to any more.
Dean appeared. ‘Thank God. I wondered what had happened to you. You didn’t come out of the building.’
‘I came out the back way,’ said Liz. ‘Me and Mihai here.’
‘Good,’ said Dean. ‘What happens now?’
The same question again, still looking for an answer. And although she knew nothing about how to look after a ten-year-old boy, Liz surprised herself by offering to take Mihai home with her. Why not? The world was going to hell already.
Chapter Forty-Six
Covent Garden, Westminster, Central London
Chris Crohn sat across the dining table from Seth. He wore his new suit, the one he’d bought that afternoon from an expensive department store on Oxford Street. He flicked a crumb away from his bowl of soup and straightened his tie. This was the best restaurant he’d ever visited, and he was enjoying the lavish setting and delicious food. It made a change from munching microwaved pizza standing in the tiny footprint of his kitchen back in Manor Road.
By contrast, Seth looked like a startled animal on the other side of the table, his eyes drifting nervously around the subdued interior as waiters and waitresses took orders and brought dishes to the well-dressed diners. He flicked his long brown hair back, but it immediately returned to its former position, partly covering his thick glasses.
‘Stop that,’ hissed Chris in annoyance. ‘Try not to look like you don’t belong here.’ He stared pointedly at Seth’s business-casual attire. A pair of chinos and a checked shirt might be suitable for Seth’s office, but looked completely out of place in this environment.
A glob of spinach soup had found its way into Seth’s goatee beard. Chris wondered whether he should draw his friend’s attention to it, but decided not to bother.
‘I don’t belong here,’ Seth hissed back. ‘And neither do you. What are we doing in this place, and why did you waste your money on that ridiculous outfit?’ He glared at Chris’ tie and cufflinks.
‘My suit isn’t ridiculous at all. I bought it because it fits the setting. You’re the one who looks ridiculous. We have to learn to adapt, Seth. Everything is changing. The Beast, the Ripper, these things are just the beginning. A new world order is unfolding. We have to le
ave the old ways behind.’
It was funny. Chris had been scared when he’d first discovered the werewolf threat. He remembered how terrified he’d been going to school each day, looking nervously over his shoulder, jumping at the slightest unexpected noise or sudden movement. When Mr Canning had gone berserk, Chris had almost died from sheer fright. The idea that the world he knew was about to crumble around him had been overwhelming and horrifying.
But Chris had changed. He’d become fitter and stronger. He’d learned the rudiments of martial arts. He’d prepped and made plans. Now he was ready to face whatever came.
In fact the more that the widening cracks in civilization became apparent, the more confident Chris grew in his own ability to weather the coming apocalypse. He was almost looking forward to it. In the past Seth had always told Chris he needed to be more flexible, to embrace change. Now Seth was the one clinging to the past.
‘This whole thing is absurd,’ said Seth. ‘Why are we eating in such an expensive restaurant? Have you seen the prices?’
‘Prices are unimportant,’ said Chris. ‘I am no longer price-sensitive.’ He wondered if someone as blinkered as Seth could grasp such a concept. Chris passed a wrapped gift across the table to his old friend. ‘Merry Christmas!’
Seth glared at the package in silence.
‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ asked Chris.
Seth glared at it a little longer, then tore off the wrapping paper reluctantly. But even he couldn’t suppress a gasp at what was inside – a rare Japanese origami book that Chris had bought from an online specialist. Seth was crazy about origami, and all things Japanese. ‘This must have cost a fortune,’ he said.
‘I knew you’d like it,’ said Chris. ‘And in any case, I have far more money than I will ever need.’
Seth put the book on the table unopened and replaced the sudden smile on his face with a sulky frown. ‘Well I didn’t buy anything for you. Not all of us have imaginary fortunes to spend.’ He flicked his mop of hair away from his glasses again. Chris watched it quickly fall back into place.
A waitress came to the table to clear away their soup bowls. She smiled warmly at Chris as she did so. Chris thanked her and smiled back. She didn’t seem to have much time for Seth though. It was curious. In the past, Seth had been the one who attracted girls, and they had always ignored Chris, as if he wasn’t even there. Some reversal of roles had taken place without Chris even trying. Perhaps it was the spinach in his best friend’s beard, but Chris suspected that other factors were in play, possibly his improved physique after weight training, maybe even some mysterious people skills. He filed the information away for future analysis.
‘My fortune is not imaginary,’ he told Seth. ‘My bank account contains enough money to meet all my current needs. In addition I have six credit cards, and I intend to max them out in the next few days. It’s important to stock up as much as we can before all the shops close down.’
Seth shook his head in bewilderment. ‘The shops aren’t going to close down, man. You’re acting irrationally. And if you rack up massive debts, think how long you’re going to have to work at that crappy school to pay back all the loans.’
‘I’ll never have to pay them back,’ said Chris levelly. ‘By next month, the credit companies may not even exist. And in any case, the school has been closed. I’m never going back there.’
‘What?’ said Seth, as the waitress returned to the table, bringing the main courses.
Chris watched the waitress as she served the food. He had ordered Saddle of Venison with Caramelized Endives and Celeriac Puree. He had never eaten any of those things before, but in recent days he had tried many new things, and was enjoying himself very much. He smiled again at the waitress, and she smiled back. He liked the way she continued to ignore Seth.
When she had gone, he said, ‘I am not acting irrationally. On the contrary, I have analyzed the situation and am embarking on the most rational course available. Tell me, do you know what happened to the German currency in the aftermath of World War I?’
‘No,’ said Seth, looking confused by the apparent shift in conversation.
‘After the war, goods were in short supply. Costs rose rapidly, and the value of the German Mark fell. After a period of hyper-inflation, the Mark was worth one trillionth of its former value. The same will happen with the apocalypse. First, people will begin panic-buying, and essential goods will become scarce. Then inflation will begin to spiral, and eventually money itself will become worthless. So the debts I am accruing now will be wiped out by inflation, even if the banking system survives in some form, which it almost certainly won’t.’
Seth made no reply to that and they ate the rest of their meal in silence. After dessert, Chris continued. ‘We need to borrow as much as we can now and spend it all on essential supplies – things that will still have value once money has ceased to exist. I’m talking about fuel, non-perishable food, medicines, camping gear, insect repellent, and weapons.’
‘Weapons?’
‘Not guns, obviously. Those are illegal in Britain. But we can stockpile knives, then acquire firearms later, once the rule of law has broken down.’ He passed his credit card to the waitress and used it to pay for the meal. He tipped her generously. After all, one person could only stockpile so much. ‘This card’s totally maxed-out now,’ he told Seth when she’d gone, snapping it down the middle and leaving its plastic remains on the table.
‘You’ve completely lost it,’ muttered Seth. ‘You’re mad.’
‘No,’ said Chris angrily. ‘You’re the one who’s mad. I’ve shown you all the evidence, and explained what’s going to happen, but you remain in denial. You’re willing to risk your life, but not your credit rating. So who’s the irrational one, really?’
Seth said nothing to that. He folded his arms and glared at Chris, the origami book lying on the table between them like a wall.
Chris sighed. Bribing Seth with the book and a lavish meal hadn’t changed his mind at all. If anything they’d made him more stubborn. Rational discussion had failed to persuade him too.
Chris made one more effort to reach him. ‘Please come with me,’ he said. ‘I’ll go without you if I have to, but I want you to some too.’
‘You just want my car,’ said Seth sulkily.
‘I do want your car, that’s true,’ admitted Chris. ‘But I want you. You’re my friend, my best friend.’
‘I’m your only friend.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Chris. ‘So will you come?’
Chapter Forty-Seven
Brookfield Road, Brixton Hill, South London
The past few weeks had flown and it was the day before Christmas Eve already. Since the funeral, Liz had been working long hours, helping with the hunt for the elusive Beast, which seemed to be lying low again, and also with the ongoing Ripper murders, which showed no sign of slowing. Yesterday’s incident at the asylum centre had exhausted her, and yet she’d somehow managed to find the energy to put in another long shift today.
The flu symptoms had ramped up, and she was feeling nauseous now too. She hadn’t been able to manage any lunch, and she didn’t think she could face anything for dinner.
What had she been thinking of, bringing a Romanian orphan home with her? She had no means of looking after a child, and had simply had no choice but to leave him alone in her apartment all day. Dean had told her she was being stupid and that she should expect to find Mihai long gone, along with anything valuable that was small enough for a ten-year-old boy to carry in his pockets.
Yet Liz trusted her ability to judge character, and in her experience, frightened children weren’t likely to suddenly turn into criminals for no good reason. And Mihai seemed resourceful. She hoped he would be able to look after himself.
She unlocked the front door and went inside. The entrance hall was dark, and so was the main living area beyond. Liz sighed. It looked like her trusting streak had got the better of her on this occasion. She flicked the
light on and went through all the rooms systematically, looking for Mihai or any note he might have left behind.
Nothing.
At least nothing obvious appeared to be missing, apart from the money she had left for him. Oh, and the spare keys to the apartment. Great.
She sank onto the sofa and put her feet up on the stool. It looked like a night for a bottle of wine and some trashy TV. Either or both might help to distract her from her headache.
She picked up the TV remote and turned it on. A news report was showing the scene of more gruesome killings, this time in the city of Nottingham.
She heard a noise from the hallway and muted the TV. A key turned in the lock. Liz was on her feet and already in the hall when Mihai pushed open the door and came inside. His brown eyes shone and he grinned impishly when he saw her.
‘Where have you been?’ cried Liz. ‘I told you not to go out after dark.’
The boy looked crestfallen. He held up some packets of breakfast cereal and bottles of milk. ‘Nice lady in shop gave me food,’ he said. He handed it to Liz, together with the money she had left for him.
Liz frowned. ‘Did the lady really give this to you? You didn’t steal it?’
‘Me not thief!’ he cried as if she’d slapped his face. ‘I never steal. Not ever.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Liz. ‘Really, I didn’t mean it.’ So at least some people were still capable of kindness. She made a mental note to thank the lady when she next visited the shop. She smiled at the boy. ‘You shouldn’t have gone outside after dark though. It isn’t safe with all the trouble at the moment.’
Mihai shrugged. ‘Nowhere is safe, ever.’
There was truth in that, although hearing it from this orphaned boy nearly broke her heart. Only ten years old, and already he expected danger and violence. That was why Liz had enrolled in the police in the first place – to make the world a safer place for people like Mihai. It didn’t look like she was making much difference though. These last weeks had been terrible. First losing David Morgan. Then the Ripper killings, the Beast attack at the railway station, and the fire-bombing at the community centre. She had never known it quite as bad as this. When terrible things happened to good people it made you wonder if there was any point. But of course that was precisely the point. It was because those things happened that the world needed people like Liz.
Lycanthropic (Book 1): Wolf Blood Page 21