by Russ Watts
He had only been with the company a few weeks, but Amber was keen to get closer to him; much closer. He was American and spoke with a soft, southern accent. He was on a gap year and a self-proclaimed player. He told her that he liked being single; he was far too young to settle down, so he was over here exploring the rest of the world. First stop, London, and move on from there. She got the impression his parents were rich; she knew they paid the rent for him so he could work and save for himself to travel. Money - tick. Good looks - tick. He had to be worth a screw at least. Amber knew he had been checking her out and if he didn’t take advantage of her soon, she was liable to drag him into the rec’ room and...
Amber’s headset beeped and rudely interrupted her crude daydreams. She prepared herself for the usual ‘Hey, I need my money now, what the hell are you guys doing?’ type of call which was the norm for the morning. It was often this time of day when some of their clients tried to withdraw cash on the way to work, and realised they didn’t have as much as they thought. As if it was Fiscal Industries fault for them not having enough money.
“Get out, get out, get out,” shouted a man’s voice down the phone. Amber jumped. The man’s tone was urgent and he sounded almost frantic. She guessed that he must be running too, as he was breathing heavily, yet in short sharp bursts.
“Sorry, sir, what is...?” Amber had to rip the headset off as the man let out a deafening scream at her. She could not make out any words, just a guttural cry, which stopped when the line went dead a moment later.
“Jesus Christ, freak,” she said ruffled. She stood up when he had screamed at her, as if she physically needed to step away from her desk. She threw her headset to the floor, distancing herself from the phone call as much as possible.
“You all right, Amber?” said Freddy from across the room.
“Yeah, I’m all right, mate, just some weirdo. You get them now and again, eh?” she said, sitting back down. Freddy grunted and sat down, returning to his magazine, ‘Economic Times.’
Amber scooped up her headset and reluctantly switched her phone back on, as the first dribble of workers came in; the rows of computers filled up and the noise increased as the office drones chatted amongst themselves. Amber shook her head.
“Fucking dick. If that was a joke that was not funny.” Amber curled her blonde hair behind her ears and looked out of the window. She could not see far. Thick raindrops splattered against the window, hiding the foggy ground below. Amber shivered. The noise in the office was growing louder as squeaky chairs filled up with ample backsides: twenty, thirty, forty people. Idle chitchat about the rain intermingled with discussions about how the day would pan out: who would get the most investment, who would lose the most, and who would be first to tell Jillian to piss off. Within an hour, there would be exactly one hundred and seven people on floor sixteen. By the end of the day, exactly eighty nine of them would be dead.
CHAPTER THREE
Caterina was the first one to notice anything. Well, actually, Kyle McCarthy was, but he ignored the seventeen missed calls on his mobile as he was focussed on his targets for the day. Night-time was for playing, daytime was for working, that was Kyle’s motto. If Kyle had listened to any of his voicemails, he could have taken action and saved the lives of most of his colleagues, as well as himself. As he didn’t, he and his workmates would be very dead, very soon. Well, dead-ish.
The morning passed as it usually did, with one majorly mind-numbing meeting, cups of tea, and several trips to the toilet. Caterina idly rubbed her belly, waiting for the next call, deciding if she should choose her baby’s name now, or wait until she was born. She had found out it was going to be a girl and was currently trying to choose between Kirsten and Kristen.
A few minutes ago, she had been introduced to Tom, who was replacing Rob. She politely said hello, not really interested until she actually looked up at him and realised he was quite handsome. When Jillian led him away, Caterina got her phone out and was texting a friend about the new hot guy at work: Tom. After the baby was born, she would love to jump his bones, she told her friend, Eva. He’s got a cute face and nice hair. Usually, Eva texted straight back, but Caterina had been left waiting a whole nine minutes before she got a reply, which irked her. She had contemplated going to the toilet again, but Jillian would probably notice if she had her third break of the day before nine thirty: bitch.
Eva had finally answered and said they had been evacuated and she was going home. Why, that’s not fair, texted Caterina. Don’t know why, texted Eva, something heavy going on, police everywhere, been told to go straight home. Wish I could go home, this place is shit, texted back Caterina.
Her friend only worked in the office five minutes down the road. If Eva’s office was being evacuated, then surely Caterina’s had to be, too? She hatched a plan. If you wait for me, I’ll come with you - I’ll just tell the Queen B I’m not feeling well, she won’t say anything, she’s too scared, wait for me, yeah? texted Caterina. Another tiresome five minutes passed before she got a reply.
No.
That was all it said. Just one word. Caterina knew Eva could be a bit sharp sometimes, but that was definitely no way to treat a friend, especially a pregnant friend. No need to be so blunt - stop being a bitch and wait for me, she texted back. Caterina got no reply. Of course, she didn’t know that Eva was now shuffling around the city with no arms, no heartbeat, and utterly incapable of using a phone, let alone comprehending what one was.
Sighing with exasperation, Caterina got up, flicked her phone off, and went to find Jillian, who was in her office with Tom, going over health and safety rules. Caterina approached the office, knocked lightly, and walked in.
“Caterina, can this wait? I’m just in the middle of something with Tom,” said Jillian offering her a fake smile, looking at the fat lump in her doorway. If she was fat now, Lord help her when she was heavily pregnant. Jillian had to fight the urge to punch Caterina in the face; she was the most selfish person she had the misfortune to work with.
“No, it can’t wait. I’m sick. I need to go,” said Caterina bluntly. She made no effort to pretend to be sick, but stood in the doorway with her hands on her considerable hips. Tom raised his eyebrows but said nothing. ‘Don’t make waves on your first day,’ his father had taught him. It was one of the rare pieces of good advice he had actually been given by his father.
“Sorry, Tom” said Jillian. “What’s wrong, Cat’?” Jillian knew that Caterina wasn’t sick and was using her pregnancy to get out of work. It was a game they played more and more frequently of late.
“Baby stuff innit.” Caterina stood her ground, not moving from the doorway, not breaking eye contact with Jillian, and not prepared to lose the game this time. She knew that she would win; Jillian had the backbone of a jellyfish.
“Fine,” said Jillian, ”just let me know later if you’re not going to be in tomorrow, please.”
Caterina flashed Jillian a sickly smile and walked away.
“Baby stuff, eh?” said Tom breaking the silence.
“Yeah, she’s about four months gone. Look, Tom, some advice.” Jillian sat back in her chair. “I shouldn’t say this, but I know your father, so I think I can trust you. If you want to get on here and make something of yourself, you can, but don’t mix with the likes of her. She’ll just bring you down. There are some good eggs out there on the floor, but...well, mostly, they’re rotten.”
Tom was surprised at her honesty. He wasn’t so surprised that she knew his father. Tom knew he had pulled some strings to get him in.
“Well, yeah, I’m just here to get on with the job really,” said Tom, not even knowing what the job was.
“Right, well let’s get this finished and then we’ll get you out on the floor.” Jillian shuffled in her seat and pointed back to the computer. A series of short raps came from the door and Jillian sighed.
“Caterina, I’m busy, I told you...”
“Sorry, Jillian, it’s me.” Tom saw an old man’s f
ace appear through the door and wondered who else was suffering from a case of skive-itus.
“Morning, Jackson, sorry, what can I help you with?” said Jillian.
Jackson Miller was the company’s longest standing employee. He had been here before Jillian had started and had seen a lot of people come and go in his time. He was unofficially second in command. Jillian wasn’t permitted to employ any supervisors, but could rely on Jackson to keep things in order when she wasn’t around. So she knew he wouldn’t come and see her unless it was important.
“Sorry Jill, it’s just that Caterina’s causing a bit of trouble. She said she was going home because there’s some problems outside. She heard it from some friend apparently.” Jackson stopped, seemingly unable to decide how to continue.
“And?” said Jill. Today, evidently, was not going to be a simple one. She rifled her fingers through a wave of dark hair.
“Well, that got everyone checking their phones and it sounds like she’s telling the truth. Kyle said his brother’s been calling him and left a dozen messages telling him to leave the office - that it’s not safe here. Benzo’s on the phone to his father as we speak.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” said Jillian standing up. “If there was a problem in the city, security would tell me and I would deal with it. They’re a bunch of kids, Jackson, you know what they’re like.” She walked over to Jackson ignoring Tom.
“Well, yes, I do know. Cindy and Parker are gossiping like there’s no tomorrow and I can’t shut them up. I’m worried half the office are about to walk out.”
Jillian ushered Jackson out of her office and followed him, leaving Tom sitting in an empty room. He wondered if he should sit and wait or see what the deal was. He decided sitting in an empty room didn’t show much initiative, so he followed Jillian out onto the floor. He headed to where a large crowd had gathered. They were clustered around one man’s desk. Tom could hear Jillian barking instructions out to sit down and monitor the phones, but nobody seemed to be taking any notice.
“Quiet!” shouted a man sat at the desk where everyone had crowded around. The man was dressed in a smart suit and had a telephone pressed to his ear, his finger stuck in the other.
“What’s happening, Benzo?” said a female voice from the back of the group. The speaker was hidden from Tom’s view. Benzo just flapped his hand in the air signalling them to be quiet.
“Why do they call him Benzo?” Tom whispered to Jackson.
“His real name is Marin Rakeen de Lakehal Benzema.”
“Oh, right,” said Tom nodding. Jackson just winked at Tom knowingly.
“All right, everyone,” said Jillian, “let’s see what he can find out. Please sit down and be quiet.”
The office fell into a hush. A minute passed and Benzo said nothing. Then he slammed down the phone and stood up sending his chair wheeling back into Jackson’s shins.
“I’m leaving, Jill, and I suggest we all do the same.” There was a flurry of people standing up and gathering up coats and bags.
“All right, all right, hold on everyone. What did your father tell you, Benzo?” Jill stood next to him, her arms folded. The crowded office stopped again and Tom felt very self-conscious in the quiet room; as if it were him expected to make a speech. Benzo spoke slowly and clearly.
“I couldn’t get hold of my father. I got the pass off and they only do that when it’s important. Eventually, they put me through to the DCI. He knows me. He said...he said, there’s been an incident at St Thomas’, a bad one. He said there was some sort of infection spreading and quickly. He told me we should either stay where we are and lock the doors, or better yet, get home fast. He said it was coming this way. Then he got cut off, or hung up, I’m not sure.”
“Fuck this, Jill, I’m outta here,” said Rob. “Can you hear that?” He pointed to the far end of the office, toward the exit door. The sounds of hundreds of people running down the emergency exit stairs reverberated around the room. Nobody had even noticed it before.
“Hang on, everyone, I’m going to check with security,” said Jill, but it was useless. The panic had started and people began leaving. Rob marched out first, his leather jacket flying behind him, swiftly followed by Benzo.
“Wait, you can’t leave, there’s work to do. Stay here where it’s safe. Come on, what are you doing?” Jill tried to reason with them and a few listened, but most ignored her. They were used to ignoring her pathetic orders and now that their lives might be in jeopardy, they were intent on ignoring her even more.
Against the tide, Caterina resurfaced. Back in the office, she headed straight for Jillian’s office. “Jill, the lift’s broken, I’ve been waiting for ages and it ain’t coming.” She saw everyone leaving and suddenly realised that Eva might be in serious trouble: so might she.
“Is this a fire drill, or for real?” asked Caterina as Kyle bundled himself past her to the stairs.
“I don’t know, Caterina. Look, the lift’s probably been deactivated; it seems there is an...event taking place in the city. I recommend you sit down and wait here. It’s safer in here than outside right now, until I know what exactly is going on.” Jill ran her hands through her hair. Jackson wheeled a chair up to Caterina and paused beside her.
For once, Caterina didn’t answer back. She meekly sat down on the chair as the final person to leave the office rushed out, banging the door shut behind them. Jackson rested a hand on Caterina’s shoulder. She could see the concern on his face and decided it best to stay here, for the time being at least. The thundering noise of thousands of scuffing shoes and heels faded, and Jill looked around the office.
“Right, well, I appreciate everyone staying who has,” she said, her voice wavering, faltering with nerves. “I’m going to my office now to speak to security, to find out what is really happening. If you need anything, come and see me, but otherwise, I suggest you head to the rec’ room and wait there. I’ll fill you in as soon as I can. Jackson, can you please do a roll call and see who we have left? I need to fill in the report for health and safety on this and know who’s left.”
With that, Jill walked back to her office, consciously keeping her head up, and back straight. She switched the phones to emergency override, so that the call centre was effectively shut down and any callers would just hear the pre-recorded message about the centre having been evacuated. This way, she wouldn’t have to deal with a million complaints tomorrow about clients not being able to get through. She was surprised that she hadn’t been made aware of any issue in the plaza, or the city, and wondered if it was a hoax. She dialled security’s number.
Everyone who had stayed, silently made their way to the rec’ room and Jackson wrote down a list of names of everybody there. He counted eighteen names on the list, including himself, and amongst them, were some colleagues he could almost call friends: Jill, Caterina, Freddy, Jenny, Cindy, Amber, and Parker. Some of them, such as Brad, he could not, and would not, call friends. He wished he had a hundred and seven names on the list today though. Jackson had a bad feeling about this.
* * * *
DI Benzema jumped out of the squad car as it screeched to a halt on Waterloo Bridge. The driver jumped out.
“Move it, constable!” the DI shouted.
The squad car driver followed the DI out onto the bridge in the rain. People were running amok, and he was confronted with so many people he didn’t know where to turn; some were clearly injured and bleeding. The constable did not heed his superior’s advice and ‘move it’ quick enough though. An old woman in a sodden medicinal gown grabbed him and sunk her teeth into his neck. The policeman’s blood drizzled down the old woman’s lips and they sank to the ground together, where another patient, an old man, joined them, ripping the constable’s face off.
As much as he wanted to, DI Benzema knew he could not stop and help. He ran toward the hospital defying his natural instincts. People lay dead or dying in front of him: on the road, the pavement, and the grassy knoll in front of the hospital.
He saw fighting outside the tube station that had developed into a brawl involving at least fifty people. As he ran, he dodged anyone that reached for him or called out for help. He had strict instructions to get to the hospital; he had to find Doctor Garner. As the DI ran through the shattered doors of the hospital, he heard the whirring blades of the helicopter approaching above. He had to hurry.
Inside the hospital entrance, he skidded to a halt. The receptionist lay over the front desk, her innards pooled around her. The floor was awash with blood and it was eerily silent compared to the cacophony outside. He saw the sign for Intensive Care and ran. They had received a phone call from Doctor Garner that the patient had shown up here about two hours ago. Doctor Garner had told them that he was holed up in Intensive Care with vital information; the only way to stop the infection spreading.
DI Benzema ran through the corridors past empty beds and bodies. Sickly green walls were splashed with bright red blood and occasionally he slipped; pools of blood had been left to collect unattended on the tiled floor. The Doctor’s call had apparently been taken very seriously. The DI had heard that orders had come from a very high ministerial level and that the Doctor was to be extracted immediately. Benzema knew that was code; the information was to be extracted and the Doctor was just a bonus. The army was flying in to take him out - they just needed someone on ground level to get the doctor up to the roof. DI Benzema knew the area better than anyone on the beat. He had grown up here and lived and worked in the area his whole life. In this very hospital, about three floors above where he was now, his own son had been born.
They had not wanted to attract too much attention and lose Doctor Garner, so had decided to send DI Benzema in alone at first. There was little time to assemble a taskforce anyway; the situation was spinning rapidly out of control and the Doctor was a priority. Emergency services were stretched beyond the breaking point already across the city. The DI heard more sirens outside and hoped his backup was coming. Reaching Intensive Care, he stopped and called out.
