The Future of London: (L-2011, Mr Apocalypse, Ghosts of London)

by Mark Gillespie

Walker led the way back through Old Street Station. He moved as quickly and quietly as possible, keeping the axe in front of him. Keeping it ready.

  Fortunately they made it back to the entrance without any interruption. Walker breathed a sigh of relief as the warm evening air touched his face. It felt like a caress from the gods, a pat on the back for finding the boy. Now all they had to do was get back to Station.

  Ten minutes. That was all it would take to get them home.

  Walker reached the foot of the stairs that led back up to the Old Street. Just as he was about to climb the first step, he stopped dead.

  There was a noise.

  It took Walker a moment to figure out what he was listening to. But when he did, he was certain of it – it was a drum. It was a single drum beating in a steady, monotonous and powerful rhythm – one-two-three-four. It was a primordial sound, out of place in that gritty, urban environment. The drumbeat made Walker think of sailors arriving on uncharted islands in the South Pacific, hundreds of years ago. He imagined those old merchant vessels, like HMS Bounty, approaching the unknown, black and shadowy land on the horizon. Listening to the drums in the distance.

  Walker looked up the concrete stairs towards the sky. The last of the sunlight had disappeared while they’d been in the station – a cruel joke on the part of Mother Nature.

  Walker turned back to the others who were still standing at the entrance. Three horrified faces were looking back at him.

  “Please no,” Carol whispered.

  Before anyone else could speak, something growled in the distance. Walker thought he felt tremors underneath his feet, something rumbling, like the earth was having a seizure and was about to give way.

  It was the sound of an engine – lots of engines. Walker thought he heard cars and trucks up there. They were roaring and bearing down upon the Old Street roundabout at a tremendous speed.

  One-two-three-four.

  Then the drums stopped.

  There was an explosion of noise. This time, it was a noise that drowned out everything else – the car engines, the rumbling of the earth, and even the screaming, irrational voice in Walker’s mind that told him he needed to get out of there.

  It was music. It sounded like an entire nightclub was on the move, with speakers as big as skyscrapers. The pulsing bass was powerful enough to make Walker’s senses scramble.

  Walker knew the song they were playing. He knew it well.

  It was called ‘Ghost Town’.

  Chapter 12

  CBC 1: The Weekly Debate (with Joe Antony)

  * * *

  July 12th 2020.

  * * *

  The CBC stage lights up, accompanied by lukewarm applause from the studio audience.

  * * *

  Three men are sitting around a circular shaped wooden table on the stage, facing the cameras and the audience.

  * * *

  The man in the middle is Joe Antony, presenter of The Weekly Debate. Forty-five year old Antony is a former political journalist, well known for tackling the most controversial topics on his weekly TV show.

  * * *

  Sitting on the presenter’s right is Billy March, lead guitarist from popular seventies rock band, Flaccid Cactus. Billy is dressed in a Black Sabbath t-shirt and tight black jeans that smother his long, spindly legs. His shoulder-length, grey hair falls well past his shoulders.

  * * *

  On Joe’s left is Cedric De Vere, the twenty-first Earl of Oxford. De Vere is fifty-five, with sharp, angular features, thin lips and a nose that curves outwards forming something of a hook shape. He’s immaculately dressed – wearing a navy suit over a salmon pink shirt and tight blue jeans.

  * * *

  JOE ANTONY: Good evening and welcome to The Weekly Debate. Now in a change to tonight’s scheduled topic, we’re going to be looking at events in London. Not today’s tragedy at the M25, but what’s happening tonight. As you’ll all know by now, the Ghosts of London are back and this time, they’re travelling north of the river. Of course we all remember the horrible images we saw in March when the last Big Chase took place. Utterly shocking, I think you’ll all agree. Well it’s happening again and as you no doubt know by now, SKAM are broadcasting the Big Chase on their Future of London channel. It’s certainly a controversial decision by Rudyard Campbell and his team, and joining me tonight to discuss this, we have Billy March of the great Flaccid Cactus, and the Earl of Oxford, Cedric De Vere. Thank you gentlemen for joining me tonight.

  * * *

  BILLY MARCH: No problem Joe.

  * * *

  CEDRIC DE VERE: Pleasure.

  * * *

  JOE ANTONY: Now Billy, let’s start with you. You consider yourself an evolved man – not only are you an accomplished musician in one of the great rock ‘n’ roll bands, but you’re actively pursuing a PhD in astrophysics at Cambridge University. As a man of both science and the arts, you see no place for this sort of thing in modern society. Am I right?

  * * *

  BILLY MARCH: (Nodding) Yes Joe. There’s no excuse for continuing this cruel exploitation of the people of London. It’s obscene to let them go on suffering like this. And what’s even more obscene is the decision to broadcast something like the Big Chase – the absolute worst of what’s happening in there. And then Campbell has the cheek to call it a learning process for the rest of us, like it has some sort of educational value instead of just being the crass entertainment that it is.

  * * *

  JOE ANTONY: Cedric, do you disagree?

  * * *

  CEDRIC DE VERE: I disagree entirely. The whole RELEASE campaign is an overemotional farce, incapable of objective and rational thought. And in regards to what’s going on tonight with the Ghosts, well here’s what I think. As human beings we have an in inherent fascination with the hunt. I’m sorry but we do. The idea of one creature pitting its wits against the other is thrilling. You may not want to admit it Billy, but it’s true. We as a species are fascinated with the superiority of the strong – why is man destined to outwit the fox? And now in London, we have the twenty-first century equivalent of the old hunting sports – men hunting men. What will happen? Who will survive? These are questions that teach us a lot about ourselves.

  * * *

  BILLY MARCH: That’s a complete load of bollocks. I’m sorry Joe but it’s fucking bollocks mate.

  * * *

  JOE ANTONY: (Smiling to the camera) Please excuse the colourful language. Of course, this is a very passionate subject.

  * * *

  BILLY MARCH: The Big Chase is a blood sport of the most heinous kind. We should not be broadcasting this torture porn and pretending that there’s some educational benefit to be gained. It’s an absolute scam – a front for people like Cedric and Rudyard Campbell who simply enjoy watching people suffer from the comfort of their living rooms. It’s time we broke down those bloody walls and showed a little compassion to the people that we’ve kept prisoner behind the M25 for nine long years. There are children in there for God’s sake!

  * * *

  CEDRIC DE VERE: If I may, I think that Rudyard Campbell and Aileen Ure, the Prime Minister have laid down some perfectly valid reasons as to why the M25 must stay intact. And let’s be honest here –the Big Chase, as horrific as it may be to some, does actually serve as a means of population control within the city. That might sound cold but there are simply too many people in London. We don’t know what the population or the birth rate is, but it’s not sustainable to have so many people claiming Drop Parcels at the British taxpayer’s expense. Not to mention there are no medical facilities in the city, so a larger population means a greater risk of disease.

  * * *

  BILLY MARCH: (Laughing and shaking his head) Are you serious Cedric? These people are being chased around the city by a gang of cannibals. Does that sound humane to you? Women and children are run to the point of exhaustion before being captured and bundled off to the human farm in the Hole. And God knows what happens to th
em before they’re slaughtered – they could be force-fed for weeks or months for all we know to fatten them up. Does that sound humane to you?

  * * *

  CEDRIC DE VERE: I believe a quick death at the hands of the Ghosts is preferable to wasting away in a back alley to disease or starvation, don’t you?

  * * *

  BILLY MARCH: (Gasps) A quick death? Didn’t you just hear what I said? How can you come on this show tonight and not know what the bloody hell you’re talking about Cedric? These people aren’t killed quickly. I’ve just mentioned the human farm that’s down there in the Hole. They’re kept alive and they live the rest of their short lives in terror – men, women and children – knowing that they’re going to be butchered for meat.

  * * *

  CEDRIC DE VERE: Rumours my boy. And if it is true, the Ghosts are stocking up on food because they choose not to accept charity in the form of Drop Parcels. That’s their decision and given the circumstances they live in, it’s one we must respect. In a way, we do the exact same thing here although most of us don’t hunt our own meat. We go to the shop, take it home and put it in the freezer until we’re ready to eat it. It’s not all that dissimilar and we’d be hypocrites to slam the Ghosts for doing something that we do ourselves.

  * * *

  BILLY MARCH: Cedric, do you even consider the people living in London as human anymore?

  * * *

  CEDRIC DE VERE: (Laughs briefly) We can no longer measure their society alongside ours Billy. Mother, father, brother, sister – are these terms even relevant anymore? That is the sociological fascination with London as it is now – it’s a brand new society in its infancy, completely unique and like nothing we’ve ever seen before. I for one, shall be watching the Big Chase with interest tonight in the hope that I can learn something about human nature.

  * * *

  BILLY MARCH: You really are a posh twat aren’t you Cedric? You’re a nasty piece of work. You’re a horrible little bastard who doesn’t understand suffering because you were born with a silver spoon shoved up your fat arse. You’ve never had to work a day in your life, have you mate? Go fuck yourself.

  * * *

  De Vere smirks.

  * * *

  JOE ANTONY: (Laughing nervously) Well apologies again for the language. We’re going to take a quick break now but it’s been a fascinating debate so far. We’ll be right back with more chat after this commercial break. And by the way, if you’re watching CBC on split screen with the Future of London, you’ll already know that the Ghosts have arrived in the north. Now if you choose to watch the Big Chase, remember that what you’re about to see is graphic and extremely disturbing. Viewer caution is advised.

  Chapter 13

  “This town is coming like a ghost town.”

  The music was blaring through the speakers, getting louder with each second. ‘Ghost Town’ by The Specials was a song that Walker knew well. He’d gone through a phase back in Edinburgh in late 2010 where he listened to nothing but ska music for about two months. Thinking back, he recalled how he’d strutted his stuff around the city dressed in a pork pie hat, polo shirt, turned-up jeans, and Doc Martens. That is, until enough people told him he looked like a dick.

  The song had brought him joy once. Not now.

  Walker crept slowly up the concrete stairs that led back towards street level. As he did so, the fat bassline rumbled like thunder in his bones. The hypnotic vocal repeated the chorus line over and over again.

  “This town is coming like a ghost town.”

  Walker kept his arm outstretched behind him – a signal for Barboza, Carol, and Charlie to stay back at the entrance to the station.

  When he was near the top of the stairs, he looked through the steel bars that ran alongside the staircase. There was nothing there, not yet.

  But they were close.

  A hand touched Walker on the shoulder. He gasped.

  Carol was standing behind him on the stairs. She was looking over his shoulder, staring through the bars at the empty street, towards the roundabout.

  “Nothing?” she said.

  “No,” Walker said, turning back to the street. “I can’t see them yet.”

  Carol nodded. “It’s okay,” she said. “They won’t be stopping here, at least not yet. They’re playing the music to taunt people, to let them know they’ve arrived. It’s when the music stops, that’s when we need to worry. Silence, that’s what you fear. Let them move on, then we run. Okay?”

  “Aye.”

  Walker glanced behind Carol towards Barboza. She was standing on the path with one arm around Charlie’s shoulder. The boy looked pale, like he was about to be sick.

  “Alright,” Walker said. “We wait.”

  They hurried back down the steps together. The four of them gathered at the entrance of the station, where the wall on either side of the steps kept them out of sight from anybody on street level.

  Walker saw a chunk of dark, cloudy sky overhead. There would be no stars tonight.

  The music was louder now. It was so loud that they could have been standing in the front row at a major rock festival. Walker wondered how the Ghosts had conjured up such a powerful sound system, but then he reminded himself that in the aftermath of Piccadilly, the fruits of London would have been a looter’s paradise. Most of the shops had been plundered in the London riots, but the Ghosts had probably helped themselves to whatever they could find in professional music studios or private houses that had been abandoned. Clearly they’d done something right in the early days, considering how much sway they held over the city.

  Now they’d arrived.

  Walker looked up the stairs towards street level. His heart was pounding.

  The convoy was up there now, circling the roundabout. Walker couldn’t see it, but he could hear it – the thumping music and angry engines.

  “They’re just passing through,” Carol said. She’d pulled Charlie towards her and was stroking his light brown hair, soothing him and whispering reassurances into his ear.

  But Charlie didn’t look like he was listening to the words of his guardian. His frightened eyes were looking up towards the street.

  The throbbing bass. The growling of the engines. It seemed to go on forever.

  In reality, the Ghosts’ convoy couldn’t have been up there for much longer than a minute. Gradually, the music and the cars faded out of earshot. The arrival parade had moved on. At first, nobody standing outside the entrance dared to move. But after a couple more minutes, there was only silence up there on street level.

  “Time to move,” Carol said.

  “Didn’t you just tell me to fear silence?” Walker said. “Are you sure they’re gone?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “For now at least. But you have to fear the real silence that comes later. When they turn that music off after their little parade is over. Because that’s when they go to work.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Barboza said. “We don’t have time to talk about this.”

  No one argued with her. They climbed the stairs back towards the street. It was completely deserted. Walker looked across the roundabout and saw the sleek and modern office blocks in the distance, as ghoulish and haunted house-like as ever. The silence was eerie, like an icy cold finger running down Walker’s back. It was like that brief visit from the Ghosts had never happened.

  “The cars will split up soon,” Carol said. “It’s what they do. They’ll start spreading themselves out and some of them will be back here. Guaranteed. We don’t have long.”

  “We need to get back to Station,” Walker said. “Now.”

  “We can’t go back,” Carol said. “It’s too risky. It’s too far to travel on foot without running the risk of being seen.”

  “Shit,” Walker said. He’d dared to hope they were through the worst of it. “So what do we do?” he asked.

  “Why don’t we hide in the station?” Barboza said, pointing back towards the underground. “Charlie did alright. W
e could climb into the tunnel or something like that. We’re hardly going to get hit by a train.”

  Walker didn’t like that. He didn’t like the idea of going back into Old Street Station. He certainly didn’t like the idea of climbing into that tunnel. That endless black abyss, resembling an open mouth.

  “The tunnel is no guarantee of safety,” Carol said. “These maniacs are thorough and that’s exactly the sort of place they’re going to be checking out later. You want to get trapped in there with the Ghosts?”

  Barboza raised her eyebrows. “Have you got a better idea Carol?” she said. “Seeing as how you know everything an’ all.”

  “We’ve got no choice,” Walker said, jumping in before another argument could break out. “We’ve got to get back to Liverpool Street Station. If that’s the one place we’re guaranteed to be safe then it’s the one place we have to go.”

  “Yeah,” Barboza agreed.

  “We won’t make it,” Carol said. As she spoke, she glanced over her shoulder, as if expecting the Ghosts to come back at any minute. “I’m pretty sure they took off down City Road just now. It’s ten minutes back to Station that way if we stay on the main road. And if we’re on the main road they’ll see us. If we come off the main road and take another route, we’re just as likely to get trapped with nowhere to run.”