London Under Midnight

by Simon Clark

  Even though there was none of that searing moonlight she could identify the outline of the willows behind her. And here she squatted on a beach of grit, amid pools left by the tide. There were scraps of broken seashells along with the larger exoskeletons of crabs with their articulated legs and pincers. Twenty paces away the river lapped the beach. Beyond that, a vast plain of water stretched toward the horizon. This time she could see artificial lights. There was a string of golden blobs that marked some industrial complex on the mainland. An oily flame burning in the darkness suggested that it might be an oil refinery. Adjacent to that, a vast diffuse glow formed a reddish dome on the horizon. That had to be the million-plus lights of London. Now it seemed an ethereal place to April Connor. A fairy citadel that lay beyond her reach. A Brigadoon glimpsed from afar, yet always unattainable.

  Far away came the clump of thunder as she reached down and pulled her remaining sandal from her foot and tossed it toward the river. Even in her present condition with the ripped dress, the mane of sticky hair, the aversion to sunlight, it was

  downright crazy to walk round with one foot bare, the other clad in a muddy sandal.

  She squatted by a little depression in the sand that was no larger than a dinner plate. It held a couple of pints of water covered with a brownish scum. The aroma reached out to her as if it had exhaled a salty breath. She cupped her hand then scooped some of the cloudy water to her lips. Hmmm… evaporation had left the small pool even saltier than the others. This was satisfying as homemade soup. She quickly drank half of it with such relish she sighed.

  'Carter,' she hissed. 'Carter?'

  'Uh.' He couldn't stop himself drinking.

  'Leave that. This is better. There's more salt in this one.'

  His face wore an expression of gratitude as he scrambled across, knelt down, then like a cat lapping from a bowl put his lips to the precious liquor and drank every last drop in five seconds flat.

  'If you select the pools carefully you can find the ones that have evaporated more than the others. Those have more salt.'

  'And drink right down to the bottom. It's saltier, but don't disturb the sediment.'

  Here they were swapping tips on drinking out of tidal puddles like they were a couple of wine connoisseurs discussing the merits of the latest Merlot.

  'Carter,' she said. 'What is it about salt? Why are we addicted to it now?'

  'Just the way things are. Look, there's another one.' He dipped his finger into a little pool then licked the digit from knuckle to nail. 'You're right, smaller is saltier. You first.'

  She gave him a smile of gratitude. The raging hunger pangs had eased. Cupping her hand, she scooped it to her lips. 'Hmm. Nice.' Then her pleasure gave way to unease. 'Carter?'

  'Don't you want it?' He eyed the puddle thirstily.

  'What's gone wrong with the world? When I first arrived the moon was so bright it hurt to look at it.'

  He couldn't stop himself staring at that petite body of water that was so rich in salt. 'The world hasn't changed, sweetheart. We have.'

  'If that's the case, then what have we become?'

  He was fascinated by the pool. 'Finished?'

  'For now.' She could have drunk it a hundred times over but now her mind had cleared after the feeding-frenzy she needed answers. Carter was still too fixated on that little treasure trove of salinity to be interested in anything else.

  'Why did the sun hurt when it touched us? When we hid under the carpet I couldn't feel my heartbeat, why's that? And when I breathe it's so irregular that it doesn't seem like breathing. It's as if it's respiration through habit rather than necessity. And didn't you-'

  'What's that?' He jerked his head up. 'Did someone just walk across the beach back there?'

  April looked in the direction Carter was staring. A hundred paces away were a line of dunes.

  'We're exposed here,' he told her. 'We should've used the other beach.' Despite his sudden wariness he scooped another palm full of water to his lips.

  We're salt junkies, she told herself. That's what we are. We've discovered a new form of addiction.

  Then she heard a thud-thud of feet moving quickly across dry earth. She tried to target the sound. A scurry of movement came from bushes at the edge of the island. Rather than seeing individuals there was a suggestion of furtive flitting amongst the vegetation.

  'Come on,' he hissed. 'Back to the house.'

  'Who is it?'

  'Your friends, likely as not.'

  'They're not my friends.'

  Carter shrugged. 'Even if they were, they aren't now. They'll have been trying to eat anything and everything. Hunger will have pushed them over the edge.'

  A blue light struck her; seconds later thunder boomed across the still water. When she recovered from the dazzling blast she saw that a whole legion of shadows flowed through the trees. Still she couldn't identify people. Then she saw glints of eyes. And who do you think those eyes are looking at?

  'Run!'

  This wasn't the time for stealth. The pair on the beach had been seen. April followed Carter across the sands. Those forms moved faster; they streamed through the darkness; nocturnal predators that could think of nothing but the meal that they craved. They began to cry out. Wordless expressions of emotion, as if fear of losing their prey was only matched by the raging hunger pains.

  April panted, 'What if we show them how to stop the hunger?'

  'Think they'd listen? They will tear you apart. Keep going! Don't stop for anything!'

  She placed her faith in the man now. He'd know a way through that chaotic system of paths back to the house. Although what safety it would offer from that hoard of maniacs God alone knew. Nevertheless, she ran as hard as she could as the greenery swallowed them. Constantly, she had to bat aside branches. Rodents scurried from her. One wasn't fast enough; she felt one of her bare feet smash down on to a furry back.

  Behind her came an excited 'Ah-ah-ah-ah!' The pack were closing in. She glanced back to see the kid in the denim jacket covered in chains. His face wore such an expression of excitement as he locked his eyes on her it seemed luminous in the dark. The very atoms of his body seemed to resonate with greed. He was nothing more than a conglomeration of hunger pains that craved satisfaction. His mouth gaped open wide. With him, more figures pounded through the bushes. With the 'Ah-ah-ah!' of excitement were screams of terror as if what frightened them most was missing out on sinking their teeth into April Connor's flesh.

  Lightning and thunder battered the island. The searing flash of electricity shone through the leaves of the trees and turned her entire world into a sea of green fire. And as they at last charged the door of the cottage the rain began to fall. Carter slammed it into the face of the kid in the denim jacket. All he had to secure it was a single iron bolt. He shot it home.

  'It won't keep them out for long,' he shouted.

  'What then?'

  'Gotta hide. C'mon!'

  The Misfires still performed their oh-so-slow-motion dance. In the time April and Carter had been away from the house those near still-life occupants of the house had moved. The ones from the room where April had slept had migrated into the hallway. They stood in single file. One had raised a hand to rest it against a wall that shed its paper in damp strips. Just then, a furious hammering shook the door.

  'Upstairs,' Carter shouted.

  He pushed aside a woman in a nurse's uniform. She slumped against the wall but remained standing. When April pushed by her, their faces almost touched on the narrow staircase. The eyes were still too heavy to open fully; the unfocussed gaze appeared disinterested in her predicament. Her bleached hair stood out in sticky spikes. When April inhaled she identified the woman's smell as nothing more than pond water. That's apt: these creatures that Carter had named Misfires were stagnant. They didn't react to being pushed over. Their faces lacked expression. Even the blood in their veins and the air in their lungs must be stagnant. That stagnation infiltrated their brains, too.

  In
a blur of movement Carter and April surged on to the pokey landing. A window overlooked the jungle-like garden that was being doused by rain. Even though she couldn't see much a burst of dazzling lightning revealed around a dozen men and women rushing toward the door, desperate for their share of the pair inside.

  'Where now?' Just two doors led off into bedrooms that had been emptied of furniture. In each room stood half a dozen Misfires, practising that statue-like pose. At that precise moment the bolt on the door downstairs yielded with a snap.

  Carter beckoned her. 'Up there.' Above him was a hatchway to the attic.

  'Carter, it's too high.'

  'Don't worry. I'll lift you. Put your foot in my hands.' He knitted his fingers in front of his stomach to create a stirrup. Downstairs, the howling was as loud as the thunder as those creatures Carter dubbed the Berserkers invaded the house.

  How she did it she didn't know. After stepping into that makeshift stirrup he hoisted her up to the oblong opening in the ceiling. As soon as she found a timber support she dragged herself into the void. On either side of her the tiled roof sloped down. There was barely room to sit up, never mind stand, so she shuffled across the rafters to give Carter space to enter. It took him five seconds to haul himself in, then he slipped the attic hatch cover across the opening.

  He whispered, 'Lay down. Keep still. Be quiet as you can… very, very quiet.'

  The rain drummed against the roof. Every few seconds a flicker of light would burst through the chinks in the slates followed by a clump of thunder. The shouts from below were muffled now. The clatter of feet on stairs was clear enough though. In her mind blazed vivid images of the Berserkers literally thirsting for her blood, running from room to room searching for them. All they'd find would be those weirdly immobile Misfires.

  April looked down at what would be the bedroom ceiling beneath her. Some plaster had fallen from woven strips of wood that formed the wattle. Through the tiny holes she could see seven Misfires in the room below. A couple were women with long hair; they could have been enjoying a party when misfortune had befallen them. There was a chunky guy in motorcycle leathers and other men who were dressed for the office. If anything, they could have been an assembly of shoddy mannequins that had been stored in some backroom for the past decade. As she watched, the door burst open. The kid in the denim jacket entered with a frenzied howl. He grabbed one of the female Misfires by the hair, dragged her head back so it exposed her throat - a curving arch of naked flesh - then he slammed his mouth on to it.

  April watched how he chewed. Yet when he jerked his head back to tug away a strip of skin, no blood flowed from the woman's wound. The exposed flesh was grey. The tissue beneath the skin resembled paper rather than human flesh. Once more the youth attacked the throat; this time he sucked at the rip in the skin. A second later he roared with frustration. He pushed the woman aside; she staggered but kept her balance. All through the attack she hadn't even blinked. Her face retained that dull, stagnant countenance that could have been chiselled from granite.

  The youth turned his attention to a man with curly black hair who appeared to stare out through the window. His teeth split open the man's cheek as more of the insane poured into the room to attack the Misfires. But these weren't to the Berserkers' taste. No sooner had they torn open the flesh than the mob were howling their displeasure. Whatever the Misfires were, they were also inedible. The crazed fervour for nourishment clouded the judgement of the Berserkers. Instead of taking time to search the house they fled screaming back into the trees.

  In the room beneath April Connor, the Misfires gradually regained their composure. True, their clothes were in disarray; their bodies displayed wounds that were a result of frenzied biting, but their expressions betrayed neither pain nor dismay. They merely resumed their silent wait for eternity.

  April let out a sigh of relief. She allowed herself to lay down flat across the attic rafters. Carter did the same. As the rain fell on to the roof Carter's hand found hers, then he curled his fingers around it. April didn't pull away.

  The thunderstorm didn't last long. But the rain continued all through the night. Before dawn it began to ease. By that time one thought possessed April Connor. 'I've got to go down to the beach again,' she confessed.

  'Hungry?'

  'Yep. It's beginning to hurt.'

  'Me, too.'

  'But then it doesn't seem like thirst. It's hunger. But I know if I drink from those shitty pools…' She felt suddenly angry. '… I know if I drink from them it takes the edge off.'

  'If that's what we have to do to beat the hunger then it's the only way.'

  'But what have we turned into, Carter? I must have gone insane.'

  'We can't all be insane.'

  'Then what's happened to us?'

  In the gloom, with the rain tapping above them, he paused. 'You know…' The gold tips of his teeth glinted. 'When I was little my uncle grew the biggest tomatoes people had ever seen. Some men have football or horseracing or beer to obsess them. My Uncle Tony had tomatoes. He grew them in a greenhouse that filled his back yard. You couldn't have a conversation with him that didn't turn tomato.' He laughed. 'Anyway, one day I learned how he grew the monster tomato. I'd gone with my brother to his house just as a truck pulled up. Two men got out and carried a barrel into the greenhouse. My uncle paid them what looked like a lot of cash and they went away. When he had to answer the phone me and my brother knew there was one thing we must do. We had to see what was in that barrel. Do you know what it was?'

  'Go on.'

  'We lifted the lid and this barrel was full to the brim with the reddest stuff we'd ever seen in our lives. You've never seen such a thing.' He took a deep breath. 'A barrel full of blood; gallons of crimson.' His laugh was oddly strained. 'Crimson gore. So red it seemed to light up the place.' He smacked his lips. 'That was Uncle Tony's secret. He fed his tomato plants on blood. We were so fascinated by it we didn't hear him come back, just this voice suddenly booming out, "Do you know how many nosey kids it took to fill that barrel?" My brother and I ran so hard…' Carter chuckled but managed to smack his lips at the same time. 'Uncle Tony didn't realize he'd scared us so much. Later, he came round with some comics and told us that the blood didn't really come from nosey kids. We pretended we knew all along but we were still shaking.' He smacked his lips again. 'Cows' blood. He bought it from the local abattoir. Lots of gardeners use it. Usually it's a dried blood meal they buy in packs but Uncle Tony wanted his plants to drink it neat. And it worked. Huge tomatoes they were. Huge and round and red.' He sighed. 'Do you know how often I remember that time when we lifted the lid off the barrel and saw the blood inside?'

  April couldn't answer. A sense of dread gripped her.

  'Let me tell you, sweetheart,' he said bitterly. 'Before I arrived here I hadn't thought about it in years. Now I'm always thinking about it. The image repeats itself. We grip the lid. We lift it off. There it is: the reddest blood you've ever seen. It glows. I can feel the heat of it. And when I breathe in the smell…' He was still holding her hand and it suddenly tightened with ferocity. 'That smell.' He licked his lips. 'If I could walk into that greenhouse right now and find all that warm blood… You know what I'd do, don't you?'

  ***

  That night their world changed. The rain still fell with a soft purring sound. Pools of water were everywhere; a stream had even appeared on one of the footpaths to find its way to its gigantic sibling, the Thames.

  They left the cottage to the Misfires who wore their bite marks with a numb kind of dignity. Carter walked ahead, his feet splashing through puddles. Already the hunger pangs were intense. What's more, April couldn't shift that image of the blood-filled barrel. She could almost see those gallons of rich liquid. It wouldn't be uniformly scarlet, she told herself. It would be a mosaic of reds. From dark crimson that was almost black to luscious strawberry, then lightening towards a pink of the most delicious hue imaginable.

  I'm hungry, but why do I think about blood
? I should be picturing roast beef, rump steak, fried bacon. But that lustrous image of glistening blood by the vatful remained glued tight inside her mind.

  'We'll have to be quick,' he told her. 'Can you see that grey over the river? The sun's coming back.'

  'Damn the sun,' she spat. 'If I don't drink I'm going to start taking bites out of the Misfires, too.'

  'You'd get more out of eating dirt. Did you see the look of disgust on the Berserkers' faces?'

  'There's got to be-'

  'Shhh.' He snatched her back into the bushes. A second later the kid in the denim jacket scrambled by. He was followed by a dozen more men and women. They all groaned as if they suffered a pain that could no longer be endured. Just when April anticipated the creatures would return to the cottage to ravage those people that were more dead than alive, she saw they were racing towards the beach as the tide rolled in. Within seconds they charged into the water. Briefly, there was a tumultuous splashing as they ran through the shallows -then they were gone. The Thames, glistening with all the lustre of black marble, had swallowed them. Not so much as a head or an arm broke the surface.

  'Why did they do that?' she gasped.

  'I told you. I've seen it before. They reach the point where they get so hungry they just lob themselves into the river.'

  'They've killed themselves?'

  He shrugged. 'Looks like it.'

  Just for a moment she felt the need to talk about what she'd seen. That suicidal dash into the river by the crazed people she'd first encountered on the beach. Only there was something more important.

  'Quick,' she told him. 'Before it gets too bright. We've got to make the most of this.'

  She went to the beach where she threw herself down at the nearest tidal pool and began to drink.

  'Pah!' Carter spat. 'It's just water.'

  April grimaced. 'Try another. Remember, stick with the small ones. The salinity is stronger.'

  The small ones were just as bad. Clear water that tasted of rain.