by Hartill, Tom
It’s almost a full minute before I realise that its gunfire.
The police, the British police, are shooting people.
How the fuck can this be happening?!
I see restaurants and offices with people inside that look almost normal, except now people are tentatively stepping outside, trying to see what’s going on. My legs feel numb and I stop to lean against the side of a building.
My heart is beating so hard that I can feel it in my temples. I try to control my breathing.
I’m almost there.
I have to get inside. Once I’m off the street I can talk to Mike, and work out what to do next.
I start to run again, and my brain finally starts to engage.
There’re a few streets and a lot of people between you and Tottenham Court road, you don’t have to run right now.
That’s true, I should save my energy for when I really need it. I slow to a brisk walk.
As I approach Regent Street I start to become anxious, I can hear more sirens, close by. Regent connects directly to Oxford Circus, which is always full of people. If just one of them is infected with whatever this thing is, the place could be Pandemonium.
Shit, then I’m stuck.
I can’t turn back and I have no idea what’s waiting up ahead.
Well fuck it you can’t stay here.
I take a deep breath and walk out onto Regent Street.
It’s totally gridlocked.
People have gotten out of their cars and are looking bemusedly to one another, a few are arguing. Something up ahead has blocked the road.
The scene is unusual but not as bad as I expected, at least the street isn’t full of those…. things. I can see Mike’s office and I make a beeline for it.
I’m halfway across the road when I hear it.
The sound of glass shattering-
Someone starting to scream-
A terrible wet crunch as something heavy crashes into the windshield of the car four feet away from me.
I’m hit by broken glass and a spray of some dark heavy liquid. I start to scream as I see blood, and assume I’ve been cut to ribbons by the flying glass.
After a few seconds I realise that there is no pain and that the blood is not my own.
I don’t know when I fell over but now I’m sitting on the tarmac, staring at the body of a woman who fell out of the sky.
She is dressed for work, I can see the tattered remains of her skirt and blouse, the shredded tights, the one sensible black heeled shoe still dangling from her twisted left foot.
Did she know what was going to happen this morning when she chose that outfit?
Did she jump?
Was she pushed?
I look at the window she fell from. Its six storeys up. I follow her trajectory with my eyes until I’m looking at the smashed car.
I almost faint when her foot twitches.
The shoe drops to the ground as her leg extends, there is an awful, organic cracking sound as she pushes herself upright.
Then I see her face.
Or what’s left of it.
The entire right side of her head has been obliterated, the eye-socket smashed in, the eye itself now a burst glob of white jelly running down her cheek. Her jaw is hanging off on one side, the remaining teeth broken and twisted. Despite this, she tries to open it, a horrible groaning sound issuing from her throat.
How is she still alive? How can’t she feel it?!
She reaches out an arm and pulls herself from the bonnet of the car. She hits the tarmac with a dull smack.
Other people are looking on, horrified, but no one comes near, and there are other noises now, something that sounds like a car crash, more screaming.
The thing that used to be a woman is now pulling herself towards me.
Her remaining eye is cloudy but it is fixed on my face, that hissing moaning sound doesn’t stop as she drags herself forward.
I can’t move.
Oh God this thing is going to kill me in the middle of the street and I can’t do a thing to stop it.
It opens its mouth wide to lunge and I close my eyes.
CRACK.
The bite never comes.
I open my eyes. The infected woman is now motionless, laying next to me. I can see a red smear of blood and brains streaked across the road behind her head.
I see flecks of white in the gore and I realise with a wave of revulsion that I’m looking at pieces of her skull.
A hand is shaking me.
I turn dazedly and look into the face of a woman.
She is short but stocky, her dark hair tied into a ponytail, her face hard and angular. She is wearing a police uniform. In her right hand she is carrying a pistol.
“-I said are you alright?!” She is almost shouting over the noise.
I don’t answer. I just cant- OW!
She has slapped me, hard. It hurts like a bitch but it does the job.
“I’m ok, I’m ok!”
“Did it get you?”
“Get me?-”
“Did it bite you?”
“No!”
She seems to relax.
“Ok, you got a place you can go?”
“My boyfriends’ office is just there-”
The sound of screeching brakes and twisting metal cuts me off. We both turn to see a double-decker bus plough through the traffic at the end of the street, smashing into one of the huge buildings near the Oxford Circus tube. I hear shouts of pain and confusion, the end of the street now full of smoke.
“You can’t stay here, this place is a warzone.” The policewoman says.
“But I-”
“Look around you, the city’s falling apart!”
I feel a flash of anger, this woman thinks I’m an idiot.
“Well what are your lot doing about it?” I snap.
She laughs bitterly and my heart goes cold.
“You mean the police? There won’t be a police force in a few hours. Not at this rate.”
“What do you mean-?”
“These things are springing up everywhere. We’re stretched too thin as it is and most of us, myself included are going to find our families.”
“You’re deserting?!”
Her expression turns suddenly furious. “Fuck you! I’m a civilian not a soldier. I’m going to get my son, and then I’m getting the fuck out of London. If you have a problem with that, write to your bloody MP because I couldn’t give a flying fuck what you think.”
She turns and stalks away. There is a police motorbike on the curb, and she straddles it, putting on a helmet.
“Wait!”
She looks up.
“Which way are you going?”
“What? Why?”
“I can’t stay here. I don’t have a car and I don’t know how to fight…” I look at the gun in her hand.
“That’s not my problem.” She speaks abruptly but she doesn’t look at me. I notice her unease and I feel a flicker of hope.
“Please, I’m sorry I- I’m just scared ok? Please help me. There’s room for two on that thing, I just need to go as far north of here as you can take me.”
She holds my gaze for a minute.
“Fine, but hang on tight, I’m not stopping again.”
I climb on behind her and shoot a look at Mike’s building. I’m almost sure he won’t have come in today, he’s been working from home more and more and if he’s drinking again there’s little chance of him making the effort. Besides I can’t see the receptionist at the welcome desk. The idea of being sealed in a building surrounded by this chaos seems incredibly stupid in retrospect.
God I hope he stayed home.
“Let’s go.”
My small companion is a skilful rider, I cling on tightly as she weaves in and out of the stalled traffic, keeping as low as I can to help her balance. A few people try to flag us down when they see the police insignia but we don’t stop.
We head up through Camden, I see a group of teenagers smas
hing up a shop front, an angry crowd gathering around a TFL worker who is trying to close the tube gate, two men punching the hell out of one another in the street.
I see all of this but my companion never slows.
We skirt the Wittington Hospital via the maze of side streets, the area around there is surely in chaos, and I guess that any hospital is going to become a hotbed of infected people.
I think of the young waiter’s face again as he was bitten, the fear, the confusion.
Please God don’t let that happen to me.
When we do eventually stop, it’s in a quiet leafy suburb. The officer pulls off her helmet and retrieves the pistol from the holster on her thigh. She produces a box of shells and starts to reload the clip. I notice the tremor in her hands.
“What’s your name?”
She looks up, very pale.
“I’m Rhona.”
“Tess, hi.”
She replaces the clip.
“Listen Rhona, I wanted to say thanks. I should have said it sooner but with everything that’s going on- Well, I mean, I don’t know what’s going on but I think you saved my life back there.”
She nods and looks embarrassed. It’s kind of endearing.
“I take it those things aren’t standard issue?” I say, pointing at the gun.
“You’re right about that. I only finished my training with it a month ago, never taken it off the range. They just started handing them out to us this morning….”
She puts a hand to her mouth and I see tears standing in her eyes.
“I n-never shot anyone before.”
I see her start to tremble and I put my hand on her shoulder. “Well I’m really glad you did. I know that’s easy for me to say but, whatever that woman was, she wasn’t coming back from it. I don’t know how she survived that fall, but I’m pretty sure she would have died anyway. All you did was save me and put her out of her misery.”
She looks at me and I realise she must be younger than I first thought. I see her composure start to come back though, and I feel a little relieved.
“Where’s your son?” I ask.
“His school’s close. I stopped here because it’s quiet and I think you’ll be fine…” She looks doubtful.
I don’t know exactly where I am and I really don’t want to be stuck out here when whatever’s going on in the city centre reaches the suburbs.
“Rhona, come on, you can’t leave me here. At least take me as far as the school, there may be a parent there who’s going my way. Please?”
She sighs. “Ok, but that’s as far as I can take you. Once I get Patrick we’re out of here.”
Rhona’s radio suddenly crackles into life. We can hear someone shouting for back up, screaming for it. She clicks it off and looks away.
“Come on.” Her voice is trembling.
I climb back onto the bike. I don’t say anything. What can I say? Those people crying out for help are her colleagues, friends too most likely, but I think I’d probably do exactly the same if I had a child.
Still, it’s a pretty shitty choice to have in front of you.
I don’t ask about Patrick’s father. Rhona isn’t wearing a wedding ring and she hasn’t mentioned him.
We ride in silence, passing only a few cars. The ones we do see are filled with luggage, people leaving town.
Sounds like a good idea.
I see a few people walking on the streets but not many. Those that are seem to be hurrying along, I guess no one really wants to be out right now.
Within ten minutes we are in the school car park. It’s a small place and there aren’t many cars. Rhona pulls right up in front of the entrance.
“You can come in if you want.”
“Thanks.”
There’s no one on the reception, the classrooms are quiet.
Something’s wrong.
Rhona must feel it too. She rests a hand on the butt of the pistol as she calls out.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
“Is anyone here? Pat? Its mum are you here?” I can hear an edge of panic in her voice.
“Hello?-”
We hear footsteps hurrying down the corridor.
“Hello? Oh Rhona it’s you thank goodness.”
A middle-aged woman in glasses with blonde hair hurries into view. She carries with her the scent of perfume and hairspray. They remind me of my mother and suddenly I want to hear her voice so badly that I feel tears sting my eyes.
“Helen, where is everyone? Where’s Patrick?” Rhona asks.
“It’s alright, Patrick’s fine you can relax. Though there aren’t many people here, it’s just me and Paul Jennings and six or seven of the children. The others have all been picked up by their parents or simply never came in at all.”
“What about the other teachers?”
“Gone, scared off by what we were seeing on the news…” She looks momentarily disgusted, “Is it true that people are….are eating eachother?”
“I don’t know and right now I don’t care. All I want is Patrick and to get out of the city. You should too.”
Helen shakes her head. “I won’t leave the children. If their parents aren’t here by the end of the day I’ll take them home myself.”
“You might not be able to wait that long.” As I say this Helen see’s me for the first time.
“Sorry, I’m Tess.” I say awkwardly.
She smiles warmly and shakes my hand.
“Hello dear, Helen Rutherford, teacher and headmistress. Are you a friend of Rhona’s?”
I’m not sure what to say to that. I glance at Rhona, who gives me nothing.
“Er, yes I suppose you could say that….”
“I gave her a lift out of the city on my bike, things were getting pretty bad out there.”
Helen nods. “Well I’m glad you’re both alright. Come with me, I’ll take you to Pat. We’ve brought the remaining children to the gym, easier to keep them all together.”
“I’ll stay here. I’m going to try to call my boyfriend.”
I watch them walk off down the corridor and take my phone out of my bag. I try to ring Mike but the call won’t connect.
I try Cass at the flat but the result is the same.
Damn!
I put the phone away and look behind the reception desk. I see a telephone, but when I pick up the receiver there’s no dial tone. I slam it down, frustrated.
There’s also a T.V. behind the desk so I flick it on.
It shows a news report, but for some reason it is being delivered by a man in military dress.
“-Special forces teams have been dropped into surrounding suburbs to eliminate and contain the immediate threat whilst search and rescue units have been deployed to extract isolated survivors in the city centre. We have established numerous ‘Safe Zones’ on the edges of the city and are co-ordinating with the Royal Marines to facilitate an evacuation via the Thames. Though the spread of this contagion has been more aggressive than first anticipated, we have moved rapidly to counter the threat. The Manchester and Birmingham outbreaks have almost been fully contained, and once secure, all resources will be diverted to the capital. The military is urging all Londoners to find shelter and secure their position as best they can until help arrives.”
He stares straight down the lens.
“Make no mistake, help will arrive. Please remain with us to hear the list of safe zone locations.”
I hear footsteps in the corridor and I see Rhona and Helen returning, Rhona is leading a young boy, Patrick by the hand.
“I think we need to hear this.” I tell them.
We huddle in front of the screen. The officer who has replaced the regular anchorwoman is being handed various sheets of paper by a uniformed colleague. He gives the first sheet a once-over and begins to read.
“The following safe zones have been set up primarily for those in the outer Boroughs, we believe at this time that public access beyond these points may still be viable though how lon
g that will remain true is uncertain. Those trapped in the inner Boroughs are advised to seek shelter where they are and fortify it as best they can.”
He then reads a list of locations relevant to the various Boroughs as we listen out for the one nearest to us.
“Mummy what’s happening-”
“Hust Pat.” Rhona says though not unkindly.
“-for those of you in Barnet and Harringay-”
This is it.
“-we have secured a safe zone around Alexandra palace-”
I turn the volume down. “That’s it then, that’s where we should go.” I say.
Rhona shakes her head.
“No way, we’re getting out of the City and into the country. I have family up north, that’s where we’re heading.”
“On the bike?” I ask.
