Surviving the Fall: How England Died

by Stephen Cross

  “Get out of the way!” shouted Mac, running past Johnny.

  Gaz was backing up towards the end of the corridor. Ed, the seemingly alive but dead Ed, shuffled after Gaz, a guttural moaning coming from his throat, filtered through the hole in his neck.

  “Back off pal!” shouted Mac. Ed paid no attention and continued to advance on Gaz.

  Mac approached quickly and pulled on Ed’s shoulder. Ed spun round and hissed at Mac, then reached for him, his jaws snapping open and shut.

  Mac swung the crowbar high and fast, and it connected with Ed’s skull. It shattered immediately, blood and white fragments of bone flying through the air. Ed wobbled, and Mac smashed another heavy blow down hard. Ed fell to the ground with a dull thump.

  Mac, breathing heavily, looked at Gaz, who said, “What the fuck?”

  Mac shook his head. “No idea, son. But I think we can assume that things are fucked.”

  Johnny’s voice came from behind, “The bugger bit me.”

  Mac turned to face him.

  “I came out of my room, and the bugger was walking up and down this corridor, moaning. I was sure he was dead, you saw it last night, right, and I freaked out a little. He started coming towards me and I tripped up.” He held up his arm where there was a large gash, the blood flowing freely. “That’s when he fell on me and bit my arm.”

  “I got him off Johnny,” said Gaz. “And then he came for me.” Gaz was pale, his pupils wide, his hands shaking.

  Mac eyed the bite on Johnny’s arm. “Let’s get that seen to, I’ll get Angie. And leave the talking to me. Last thing that poor girl wants to know is that her fella came back alive and started trying to eat people.” Mac shook his head. “Christ on a bike…”

  Gaz and Johnny headed down to the bar, and Mac went to Ellie’s room. He found the two women sitting up on the bed, holding each other’s hands, their eyes open and expectant.

  “What’s happened?” said Angie.

  Mac opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say.

  “Mac, what is it?”

  “I don’t know. Well, I do, but it’s all wrong. Everything is… Johnny has been bit. He needs some help cleaning the wound.”

  “Bitten?” said Angie, “what by? Some sort of animal?”

  Mac didn’t answer but glanced at Ellie. His eyes told her everything.

  Ellie’s face fell, “It was Ed, wasn’t it? He’s become one of those things? Oh my God, he’s become one of those things!”

  Angie wrapped her arms around Ellie and said, “Mac?”

  Mac nodded.

  “I’ll stay here with Ellie.”

  “Ok… no wait…” He ducked out of the room and looked up and down the corridor. Empty. “Take her to our room, and wait there. The door is stronger. Lock it. Don’t let anyone in unless they speak to you - you got that? Make sure whoever is at the door speaks to you.”

  Angie nodded and stood up with the help of her canes. She held out a hand to Ellie, who followed Angie blindly, taken over by a second grief.

  Downstairs, Johnny was sitting on one of the soft back chairs that lined the walls of the pub. He has his arm rested on the table, and had a pint of bitter in front of him.

  “Reckon I’ll need something stronger than that soon, this thing hurts like a bugger.” His injured arm was held out on the table. Gaz had wrapped a white cloth around it, which the blood was quickly turning red.

  “Apply more pressure, Gaz,” said Mac as he pulled a bottle of Whiskey down from one of the optics. “First, pour a load of this over the wound.”

  Johnny laughed, “Best place for that will be down my throat!” His laugh turned into a cough. He grimaced and clenched his teeth. “I tell you, this arm though, it bloody hurts. He took a fair bite. Think I might need a doc, Mac.”

  Gaz nodded enthusiastically, “He’s right Mac, think you can get a doc?”

  Mac motioned to Gaz to follow him as he walked round the other side of the bar, out of sight of Johnny.

  “Look, Gaz, keep an eye on him. There’s any funny business, use that,” he pointed down to the fire extinguisher.

  “Mac? What do you mean?”

  “I mean, whack him round the head with it.”

  Gaz looked at Mac, his eyes wide open. “You think he might turn into one of those things, like that fella did?”

  Mac nodded. “I do. Now listen. I’m going to go down Marshall’s farm, it’s only a mile or so, so should be back within the hour, if not sooner. My missus and that girl are locked in my room. Keep it that way.

  “Watch Johnny like a hawk. He’s probably got that virus now. So if he starts acting funny, keep your distance, and get round here, get that fire extinguisher and knock him out.”

  Gaz stared at Johnny.

  “Do you understand, Gaz? It’s very important.”

  “Ok… yes. I do. Watch Johnny, any funny business, then hit him on the head.”

  “Good lad. Now,” Mac pulled out an ice bucket from under that bar and filled it from the fridge. “Bring this out, so Johnny don’t ask what we been up to.”

  They walked back out to the bar.

  “I’ll see you two in a bit. Careful with that whiskey, Johnny, that’s the expensive stuff.” He winked at Johnny. “Lock the door behind me Gaz, don’t let anyone in except me.”

  Chapter 5

  Once outside the pub and walking quickly down the country road that led to the Marshall’s farm, Mac felt exposed. He looked at his mobile phone, still no signal. He didn’t think that the phone line would be working at the farm, but it was worth a try. If he couldn’t get help soon, then Johnny was a gonner, he was sure of that.

  He could see the farm on the crest of the hill, and he quickened his pace. He was nervous, and scanned his surroundings as he walked. Every tree, every lamp post, every hedge was now a potential hiding place for one of those things. Maybe the one that got Ed was still hanging around.

  He jumped as a pheasant took off from a nearby hedgerow. It powered low across the field, its wings making an eerie whistling sound that further unsettled Mac.

  He started into a quick jog and was soon breathing heavily and sweating. He couldn’t remember that last time he had ran anywhere. He was just passed sixty and he owned a pub, why would he need to run anywhere?

  Smoke still rose from Frome, a few plumes as before, one very black. Well, if there’s no fire brigade around, thought Mac

  Maybe there’s no police around, or army, or anyone. Maybe this is it.

  Mac forced his thoughts to stop. You’ll go mad son, thinking like that. Get yourself together, get to the farm and get some help.

  Soon enough, Mac reached the driveway of the farm. A few hundred yards down the path and he would be at the farm. He took one last look around him. He could see the A-road from here. It looked like a huge car park - nothing was moving. Hundreds of cars in a higgledy piggledy line like a child’s game. He heard a car horn in the distance, it’s deep constant sound cutting through the country air.

  Mac got the front door of the farmhouse, it was open.

  “Hello?” he called in, surprised as his voice jumped an octave. He cleared his throat and said again, “Hello?”

  Nothing. He stepped in carefully. Before him a large hallway led to the kitchen, with open doors to the left and right. A staircase led upstairs.

  Mac peered to his sides and quickly walked past the open doors, into the kitchen. On the large table in the middle of the room sat a picnic basket, full of tins and bottles of water. Another box sat next to it - tablets, bandages, medicines.

  More tins of food lay across the floor, and in the corner was a smashed bottle, its white contents spread across the floor. The fridge door was open.

  Mac gripped his crowbar, holding it with both hands, ready to strike.

  He made his way out into the hallway again and went through the righthand doorway, the lounge. The curtains were closed, but Mac could make out the familiar shape of the fireplace and the furnishings. He had spent many
a night in here with Farmer Andy, sharing their love of whiskey and talking drunken nonsense. Good times.

  Mac backed out of the room and checked across the hall, the dining room. Nothing out of place in there either.

  The staircase became an ominous beast, and Mac wondered if the best thing to do was just get back to the pub.

  But he wasn’t going to be a coward. Andy and Caroline might need help.

  He walked up the stairs slowly, wincing as the odd stair creaked loudly, announcing his presence. And as if in answer, a large thump came from one of the top rooms.

  Mac stopped still at the top of the stairs - a short landing with three doors leading off, which he knew to be the bathroom, the office and the bedroom. The hallway curtains were half open and a thin beam of light shone in, particles of dust flitting in and out of the ray.

  There was another thump, from the bedroom.

  Mac eased forward, moving as quietly as he could. Even so, there was another creak under him as a floorboard shifted under his weight. Another bang, this one louder, and with it the bedroom door shook.

  Mac felt sweat forming on his back and across his brow. His breathing seemed louder than the floorboard’s creaking. He swapped the crowbar from hand to hand, wiping his palms against his jeans.

  He reached forward to the door handle and turned it. He pulled it and jumped back with one motion, a motion that saved his life.

  Andy fell through the open doorway, his hands stretched out, letting out a moan as he did so. He fell to the ground by Mac’s feet and immediately started to pull himself towards Mac, managing to grab onto his ankle.

  Mac moved backwards and came to a stop against the bathroom door. Andy pulled himself closer to Mac and raised his head at an unnatural angle, almost right back against his neck. His forehead was covered in gashes and one of his eyes hung out of its socket.

  Mac brought the crowbar down with all his might on Andy’s head. He felt the metal smash the bone and sink into the brain material underneath. Warm black blood squirted out and spread over the wall and Mac.

  There was another moan, this one more high pitched and Mac looked up to see Caroline stumble out of the bedroom, her nightgown covered in blood. Her chin was red and what appeared to be a piece of stringy pink flesh hung from her open mouth. She advanced on Mac.

  He pulled on the crowbar, still in Andy’s head, but it held fast - stuck. Caroline was only a few feet away.

  He pulled again, harder this time, feeling something go in his back, but it did the trick. The crowbar yanked free, taking with it a large part of Andy’s brain, hanging off the end of the metal. Mac swung the crowbar at Caroline and it connected with her head. She lost her balance and fell to the left, down the stairs. She tumbled to the floor and landed on her head, an audible crack signifying a broken neck.

  “Christ on a bike…” said Mac, out of breath, and out of belief.

  He made his way down the stairs and carefully passed Caroline. He went into the kitchen and took the picnic basket and medical bag.

  About to leave, he paused. A phone sat on a small desk by the door. He picked it up, no ringtone. Dead.

  Mac left and got back to the pub as fast as he could move.

  Angie sat in her bedroom with Ellie. There was a seat in the corner that Ellie took, and Angie sat on the bed. She flicked the remote control from one channel to another, nothing but the same blackness, or static, depending on the channel.

  “Do you have a radio?” asked Ellie.

  Angie nodded. “Yes, but it’s downstairs. Maybe we can try it when Mac gets back.”

  “How long do you think he will be?”

  “He shouldn’t be too long. The Marshall’s is just down the road. They’re good friends of ours, I’m sure they’ll be able to help in some way. Even if it’s just to have some friends around. Things are so strange, it will be nice to have some familiarity.”

  “If they’re ok,” said Ellie, staring out the window to the farmland beyond the pub.

  Angie didn’t reply. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “What happened to you and Ed, how did you end up here?”

  Ellie shook her head. “I told him we should have stayed in the car. But he is…” she paused, “ was, so pig headed.” She wiped away a quickly forming tear.

  “What happened, did you break down?”

  Ellie shook her head. “No, we were on our way to Bristol from London. We had left before the military closed it. We got out just in time.”

  “What was London like?”

  Ellie looked at Angie with tired red eyes. “It was awful. It was like a war zone. People were running around on the streets, fighting, stealing stuff, trying to get in people’s cars. And then there were the others, the ones with the virus. Police were useless, army were just shooting anyone that moved really.”

  Angie shuddered to think how terrified Ellie and her boyfriend must have been.

  “Ed wanted to leave earlier, I should have listened to him. Maybe he’d be alive… In the end it was obvious there was no choice, we had to go. Things were just crazy.”

  Ellie sat back and took a few deep breaths. She blinked hard a few times, as if trying to wipe away the memories.

  Angie gave her the time she needed.

  “I have family in Bristol, you see, so that’s were we headed. We spoke to them on the phone when we left, didn’t manage to get in touch after that. The phones went, internet went. But we kept going. Traffic was a nightmare, worst ever. We tried turning off onto smaller and smaller roads, and it seemed to help a bit, we eventually got onto some little road and made good time, until we found ourselves stuck on an A-road, by Frome. That’s the town near here isn’t it?”

  Angie nodded.

  “So we got stuck. Just didn’t move. It got dark, and people started fighting, horns blowing, everyone getting mad. Ed told us we had to ditch the car and get somewhere for the night, anywhere, away from all the people. I think he was scared that things were going to get real bad. I wanted to stay in the car. I told him that I shouldn’t be going anywhere with the baby and that.”

  Ellie paused again and shook her head angrily. “I should have listened. It was obvious things were out of control. What did I think was going to happen.”

  “When did you get out of the car?”

  “It was past eleven. Some car up the road just blew up. At least I think it did. Big bang, and then flames and smoke. Loads of people left their cars then. Loads stayed. God knows happened to them.

  “We got out, took our backpacks and set out on the fields.” Ellie’s voice took a faraway quality. “We stayed away from other people, Ed said it was dangerous. We tramped through fields for hours. Had to stop often as I can’t walk very fast, get tired, what do you expect? He did the best he could, even tried carrying me at one point, but it were no good. Eventually we saw some lights, and headed towards them.”

  She stopped speaking. Her head went down into her hands and she sobbed quietly.

  Angie waited, herself staring out the window. It was such a beautiful day. She couldn’t remember seeing a sky so clear and so blue, and then she realised why - there were no vapour trails, no fading streaks of white cloud left behind by the many jets that usually flew over on their way to London.

  Ellie started speaking again, her head still down. “That was when it came, it was so dark, the man, the thing, the virus thing, it came through a hole in the hedge. We were on a path, you know, between fields, and it was just there, suddenly. It came for Ed and grabbed him straight away. Ed fought with it, and eventually he got it on the ground and smashed its head with a rock. You have to get them on the head, that’s what people in London were saying. Ed got it. But it had got Ed too.

  “We sort of knew that he was probably going to get the virus, be we thought that if we got help we could fix it. Maybe the doctors knew, if we could get to hospital… We found your place soon after.”

  Angie continued to stare out the window, tears blurring her vision
. So much pain, so much loss. How much more? This seemed like just the beginning.

  Chapter 6

  Mac jogged up to the pub, his clothes stuck to him with sweat, his lungs feeling crushed against his rib cage, and his shins aching every step he took.

  That’s what the easy life does for you, he thought.

  Suddenly there was a huge noise above him. He looked up to see three fighter jets screech across the sky, low and fast.

  He couldn’t help but smile. The air force were in action, which meant someone was fighting this.

  Maybe the army would eventually get all the infected, thought Mac. If they could just stay safe until then.

  That’s it, we can lock down the pub.

  He ran up to the door and knocked softly, nervous looks over his shoulder.

  “Gaz, Gaz, it’s me, Mac, let me in.”

  Nothing.

  “For Pete’s sakes, Gaz, open the bloody door,” he said a little louder.

  He was about to hammer on the door, his temper up, when he realised what the silence could mean… And if the worst had happened, he didn’t want his banging to get his wife coming downstairs to open the door.

  He peered in the window through a gap in the curtains. The table where he had left Johnny and Gaz sitting was empty.

  The door was bolted from the inside, he would have to find another way in.

  He made his way round the back of the car park. Against one of the walls of the pub, sat a large wheelie skip. Thankfully it was mostly empty, so not too heavy, and he was able to shift it with little effort.

  Underneath was the cellar chute.

  He took off the key ring that he’d attached to this belt that morning - a habit forty years in the making. He smiled, Angie always called him a creature of habit, like an old Bear, she said, that never left its cave and did the same things every day.

  He unlocked the cellar chute and eased up the door with one hand, holding the crowbar loosely in the other. His grip was tired, but he didn’t want to be caught by surprise.

  He peered in, nothing but shadow. Gently walking down the stairs, he waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the light.