Dead End

by Monroe, Kady

  DEAD END

  KADY MONROE

  Copyright Kady Monroe © 2017

  All rights reserved.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance

  to persons alive or dead is purely coincidental.

  No part of this work may be copied, distributed by

  any means, or stored, in print or digitally

  without the author’s prior permission.

  First Edition 2017

  Cover Photograph © Mike Sandoval

  ISBN-10: 1979182116

  ISBN-13: 978-1979182119

  .

  For Drew

  Thanks for the bunker,

  but I never found it.

  CHAPTER 1

  SUNDAY 5TH NOVEMBER 2017

  Jenny Duncan closed the cash register drawer and smiled as she handed over the waiting customer’s change.Four more people stood in line behind the one she currently served. She didn’t mind being kept on the go, it made the time speed by. And it had been a busy evening shift for her. The little grocery store where she worked, part-time, was inundated with Guy Fawkes night revellers. Her customers wanted snacks and drinks to keep them fortified during the town’s annual bonfire and fireworks display. As the next customer deposited her purchases on the counter, Jenny rang them up, and glanced at the register's digital clock. She saw it was after 7 pm, later than she expected.

  The shop did a reasonable amount of trade in the evenings with regular patrons. However, the local Council's organised event, which included fairground rides and bouncy castle, was taking place in the park down the road. Therefore, foot traffic had been high.

  Over the next ten minutes, the number of customers dwindled. Probably because the bonfire was due to be lit at 7 pm and people would have gone to view it. A few stragglers lingered on the shop floor, browsing the shelves. She guessed they hadn't rushed off yet as they might be more interested in seeing the fireworks display at 7.30pm.

  While she waited for those customers to bring their purchases to the counter, one of her regulars made an appearance into the shop. In his dusty work-boots and dirt streaked jeans, he purposely strode towards the refrigerated cabinets lined up along the far wall. Jenny didn't know the name of the tall thirties something man as he never seemed to be interested in casual chit-chat. But she knew his normal haul often consisted of a pint of milk and a pack of his usual brand of cigarettes.

  A moment later, her attention wandered from him when a man approached the counter for service and was closely followed by a young couple in their late teens, clutching bags of crisps and cans of cola.

  After a few minutes, all the new customers departed. Presumably heading for the rest of the Lillington Council's night of festivities. She doubted the celebrations would go on for long though, due to it being a Sunday evening. In fact, Jenny wasn’t sure it was a good idea to be holding a large public gathering, considering the sporadic reports of a virulent illness that had been on news reports in the last few days. It sounded like a nasty bug, but the authorities seemed to be playing it down though, saying patients showing symptoms were being treated and there was nothing to worry about. However, that wasn't what she heard on the grapevine. People talked, and what they said, wasn’t good.

  The worrying consensus seemed to be that the disease was worse than the limited information being broadcast. The fever apparently made people aggressive. Jenny wasn’t one for believing rumours and conspiracy theories. But that morning, at one of her cleaning jobs, she overheard part of a conversation between two early morning call centre workers. They were waiting for the building’s elevator to arrive. The two men discussed a disturbing phone call one of them received in the early hours of the morning. Whoever had contacted him, said part of Manchester was under quarantine due to a severe outbreak. His co-worker laughed,

  “He’s pulling your leg mate. If that happened, it would be all over the news.”

  “He sounded dead serious though. I’ve tried calling him back, but it just goes to voicemail.”

  The lift arrived with a ding, and the pair walked into the compartment, but before the doors closed, Jenny listened to another snatch of the conversation.

  “Stop worrying about it. Your pal was probably just drunk after a good Saturday night out. People make stupid phone calls when they’re pissed. He’s more than likely still sleeping the booze off.”

  What she overheard worried Jenny, it wasn’t the first rumour like that she’d heard. When she got home to her small one bedroom flat, she turned on the news channel and watched for an hour, and again, throughout the day. Manchester didn’t get a mention.

  Pushing the memory away, Jenny returned to the present. The shop was quiet, with only the regular guy still there. She was surprised he hadn't arrived to be checked-out yet. He normally didn't linger longer than it took to pick up a few items and pay for them.

  She looked up at the large flat-screen monitor that served as a viewer for the security cameras. It hung next to the counter on a metal bracket leaning out from above the shop window wall. Each of the camera feeds appeared in its own little rectangular view on the screen. Six cameras surveilled the inside of the shop and one outside, giving seven rectangles for her to view at once. In one of them, Jenny could see Mr Quiet and mysterious standing beside the shelves that held toiletries. He was on the phone. So he does know how to hold a conversation, after all, she thought, smiling to herself. His back was to the camera, and he stood out of earshot so she couldn't hear what he said. No eavesdropping for her this time.

  Jenny turned her attention to one of the other security screen rectangles. She could see the back of herself, a slim young woman with sandy blonde hair tied back in a neat ponytail that hung half-way down the back of her navy-blue sweatshirt. After a few seconds Jenny moved on to the other rectangles. Apart from the guy still talking on his phone, the shop was empty, but she reckoned she might get a few more customers before she finished up for the night at 8 pm.

  She continued to stare at the security feeds. The one outside showed a good view of the brightly lit recessed front door and the large plate glass window covered in posters, advertising the store’s best deals of the week. The camera gave a limited view of the street though. What little it observed, showed a quiet road compared to the hustle and bustle of earlier. The whole area was illuminated in the orange glow of the nearby street lamp.

  As she watched, a lone figure came into view, making towards the shop door. Even before the woman entered, Jenny had identified her as the elderly Mrs Parks, who insisted she be referred to as Ruth.

  The store’s door pushed open as she made her way

  in. The lady turned her face towards Jenny while rubbing her wrinkled hands together briskly and smiled, saying,

  “Evening Jenny. Chilly out there tonight.”

  Jenny returned the smile and agreed with Ruth,

  “Yes, I’m surprised we haven’t had any frost yet.”

  “Oh, I don't think that's far off. Still, at least it's dry for the firework display. Not that I had any notion of going down there to stand around in the cold. Wouldn't do my old joints much good.”

  As if on cue, the first firework went off. Through a space between the posters, Jenny looked at the terraced row of houses opposite lighting up in a purple glow as the display in the sky burst to life. Ruth drew Jenny’s attention back,

  “Zara and her friends have gone to watch though. It’s nice to see her going out again, getting a little normality back.”

  “I’m glad to hear that Ruth. And how are you doing?”

  “Oh, I'm alright. I miss Ann terribly and some days are worse than others,” she paused and with a sad smile, continued,

  “At least I have Zara. It's a comfort having her with me.”

  Jenny gave the w
oman a sympathetic nod. She knew of the family’s recent bereavement. Ruth’s daughter Ann had died of breast cancer and the old woman had taken in her only grandchild, Zara. Jenny could relate to their loss, as she had lost her whole family at an early age.

  Another burst of colour lit up the world outside, along with the crackle of multiple fireworks going off. The light and the noise seemed to stir Ruth into movement.

  “That crowd’s lively this year, what a din!” she said, then pointing towards the second aisle she announced,

  “I’ll just go and pick up some hot chocolate before I forget what I came in for.”

  She gave a little laugh and walked off in pursuit of the beverages section as another bright illumination exploded in the sky.

  Jenny returned her attention to the security screen. Phone guy was still talking, but now he was also pacing. When she caught a view of his face, she could see his furrowed brows. He was obviously not happy with whatever the conversation was about.

  A few moments later, Ruth returned to the counter carrying a can of hot chocolate powder and a packet of biscuits.

  “Is that everything Ruth? Jenny asked ringing-up the items.

  “Yes, thanks. I’ll be in tomorrow for my milk and bread, it’s always fresher on a Monday. Oh and don’t bother with a bag for those. I’ll just carry them across the road.”

  Jenny nodded and took the five-pound note Ruth was holding out. She sorted out Ruth's change and handed it over.

  “Thanks, Jenny,” she said with a smile. She picked up her purchases, turned, and headed for the exit. Jenny called out,

  “Night Ruth.”

  Then watched the glass panelled door close behind the woman.

  Once again Jenny checked the monitor and noticed her lingering customer was now at the far end of the shop floor. Having finished his phone call, he appeared to be making another. She watched as the device went back to his ear. He paced again while waiting for his call to go through. He looks worried, she thought.

  With a little while yet before the arrival of her boss, Mr Carter, who would cash up the till and close and lock up the shop, she started restocking the confectionery display. There were a lot of empty spaces in it after the earlier rush for sweet snacks. She kept a selection of boxes of stock beneath the counter, so she busied herself with filling the gaps.

  The fireworks display was still going strong and Jenny agreed with Ruth, the crowd did seem loud this year. She ignored the noise and having completed the restock with the items available, she headed towards the little storeroom at the back to collect other merchandise that needed to be replaced on the shelves.

  As she got closer to her remaining customer, who had his back to her, she heard a one-sided distraught conversation. The man’s voice was growing in volume as he became more agitated. What Jenny comprehended from this singular exchange, stopped her dead in her tracks.

  “Dad listen to me! I'm not joking, you know I wouldn't joke about something like that. Tracy and the baby are dead! No, I already told you… Will you listen for a minute! Greg phoned me. He said they got attacked. Dad. Dad! Stop shouting at me. It's not a sick joke!”

  The guy’s frustration was palpable. She could see the tension in his stance. Jenny felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, and the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach she had been carrying around all day, was suddenly making her very nervous.

  “Dad, listen! Greg phoned me. He said Tracy and little Leo were out in the backyard and a few of the neighbours rushed into the garden and attacked them. Greg was upstairs having a nap when the screaming woke him, but by the time he got there, it was already too late,”

  Phone guy sighed as he listened to something being said on the other end of the phone,

  “No, listen, he tried, but more neighbours were coming into the garden and he said they looked wrong. He was bitten by one of them, but managed to get back in the house and lock the door.”

  Jenny felt sick. And even though she knew she shouldn’t be spying on a private conversation, she continued to listen; not out of morbid curiosity, but because deep down she had this gnawing feeling that what the guy was saying wasn’t just important to him and his Dad, but to her too.

  Telephone guy continued talking as Jenny quietly crept closer.

  “No, listen, Dad,” He paused to listen, “Ok, phone him if you don’t believe me, but please lock your door and don’t answer it to anyone.”

  The guy let out an exasperated sigh. His father wasn’t listening to his warning, and even Jenny could hear the muffled voice of someone shouting something from the receiver.

  “Dad, please, will you please just promise me you’ll stay inside and lock the door?”

  “Dad?”

  The guy moved the phone so he could look at the screen. Peering around the side, Jenny made out the icon that signified the call had ended. Phone guy's dad had hung up on him.

  She heard him utter a curse and then he suddenly turned around, almost bumping into her. Jenny took a quick step back and could feel her face turning red as she muttered,

  “Sorry. I was just checking...” she pointed vaguely toward the nearest shelves before continuing, “Is everything alright?”

  The saying, if looks could kill, went through her mind as his dark brown eyes seemed to bore angrily into hers. She braced herself for verbal abuse, but it never arrived.

  His eyes softened, and he seemed hesitant to reply, but finally, he said,

  “Yes, sorry. I didn’t mean to hang around in the shop for so long. I’ll just get what I came in for and go.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I was asking about your phone call. You seemed very upset. Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear some of it.” Jenny replied, feeling embarrassed again for letting on that she had been listening. A flash of annoyance crossed his eyes, so Jenny rushed on,

  “I know it’s none of my business, but what you were talking about, it’s something to do with the virus on the news, isn’t it?”

  He seemed taken aback for a moment, but then said,

  “Yeah. I think it's a lot worse than we've been told

  and it's spreading fast.”

  He let out a deep breath, almost as if he himself couldn't believe what he had just said. Jenny's stomach churned with anxiety and she felt as if the temperature had dropped a few degrees. She shivered and quietly replied,

  “I knew it. I've been hearing a lot of rumours. Someone said part of Manchester had been quarantined this morning, but there wasn't anything about it on the news. I checked on and off all day before I came into work. But there weren’t any reports of any incidents there, and I don't get a good phone signal here to check the internet.”

  “I heard something similar from a lorry driver about Newcastle this afternoon and some little town up on the Scottish border. And now my brother called, and he’s in Kentucky!” he replied.

  “Kentucky, USA!” Jenny asked, horrified at the prospect that this virus might be spreading across the globe.

  “Yeah, America.”

  “I’m sorry about your brother’s family. I heard what you said had happened to them.” The guy’s gaze fastened back on her with a sharp look. She ignored it and asked sympathetically,

  “Did your brother get help?”

  “You believe me then?”

  “Yes. I do,” she replied, nodding, then asked again,

  “Did he get any help?”

  “I don’t know. He said his wound was bleeding badly, and he had been calling the emergency services, but nobody was answering. He sounded weak and tired.”

  Disturbed by the memory, he paused and took a deep breath before continuing,

  “I could hear a lot of noise in the background, people screaming and banging, like they were trying to get in. Then I heard a crash and I think Greg dropped the phone. Maybe it broke ‘cause the line went dead after that.”

  Not knowing what else to say to the poor guy, she replied

  “I'm sorry,” and added gently,
“Is there anything I can do? Would you like me to contact someone for you?”

  “No, thanks. I think I’m going to go up North to my Dad’s.”

  He paused for a moment, then looking at her pointedly, he continued,

  “On second thoughts, you could do something. Take the same advice I tried to give my father.”

  He gestured towards the shelves,

  “Take some supplies, go home to be with your family, and lock yourselves in.”

  Jenny didn’t want to tell him she didn’t have any family, or even friends. She was very much a loner. She did, however, have a bad feeling in her gut that she couldn’t push aside. Maybe she would take his advice and call in a few sick days at her three jobs to wait to see how the situation played out.

  “Yes, I might do that,” she said.

  And with that, they both walked towards the front of the shop.

  “I hope you have a safe journey to your dad’s,” she said. Then added while pointing towards the covered cabinet on the wall behind the cash register where the cigarettes were stored.

  “Can I get you anything before you go?”

  She thought he might still want to buy smokes. He was about to reply when the sound of glass shattering somewhere nearby, and a car alarm going off, got their attention. More disturbingly, it was accompanied by the approaching noise of what sounded like a distraught crowd, shouting and screaming.

  They gave each other a worried glance and headed to the shop doorway to see what was going on.