Aftermath: The Complete Collection (Books 1 & 2)

by John Wilkinson

  ‘We are going to cross the river.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘Yeah here.’

  ‘Will we be okay?’

  ‘I think so.’

  I slowly drove the vehicle into the river, the black water soon reaching the top of the wheels. We were nearing the half way point when the water started to spray into the cab through the gaps in the door. ‘Dad, dad the waters coming in’ cried Emma, panicking as she lifted her feet up and sat on them.

  ‘It’s fine, we are halfway across.’ Soon the spray became a gush as the water started to fill up the floor panels, I could feel the pressure of the river pushing the truck from my right as I tried to reach the other side. The front of the vehicle suddenly shifted around ten inches, Emma let out a scream as it moved again. I struggled to keep it facing in the right direction, as the water sprayed up at the side windows. She was crying as the back started to slip, and I revved the truck, trying to get some purchase on the riverbed. For every metre forward we moved, we slipped a yard to the left. It was a relief when I could finally see the water level decreasing down the door, and the pressure pushing us started to decline. As the vehicle climbed up the banking on the other side, the water poured out, so we opened the doors to help its progress and then resorted to scooping it out with the frying pan. We took a few minutes to calm ourselves down, looking out of the windscreen, the field ahead looked odd. Unlike the smooth ground we were used to, it was very uneven, with bits sticking out, creating strange branch like shapes all around. Everything was covered in a thick layer of black ash and snow, masking whatever was underneath. I started the truck up again and tried to get moving but I couldn’t get any traction, the wheels were spinning, spraying a layer of snow into the air. But it wasn’t just snow, there was something else underneath, another layer. The vehicle was skidding around on the spot, unable to move forward, so I got out to investigate what the problem was. As soon as my boots hit the snow covered ground, I knew something was wrong. I walked further into the field, each step sinking further into the ground, and feeling very uneven. Six yards in front of me, something was sticking out of the ground like a black branch, spindly and twisted. As I got closer I realised it wasn’t a branch, it was an arm, its dark black skin had shrunk and distorted the limb. I moved the snow away with my boot, underneath was a body, and under that another one. In every direction I looked, when I kicked the ash away, there were bits of human bodies protruding out of the ash and snow. I looked out over the land ahead, for as far as I could see, the ground had a strange uneven look to it, with other unidentified objects sticking out of the sludge. I walked to the nearest one, ten yards to my right, and kicked the ash and snow off it. It was the leg and boot of a man, laid down on top of another body, it was just a mass of bodies. There was so much ash and snow it was hard to see exactly how many there were, but every step I made uncovered one. I walked back to the truck and fastened my rucksack around my waist telling Emma to follow me. I couldn’t drive the truck over the top of this and I wasn’t going back across the river, we would have to walk from here. I wasn’t entirely sure what we had stumbled upon, from directly beyond the river, to as far as my eyes could see, there were bits of bodies sticking out of the ash and snow, for mile upon mile. I don’t believe it was a mass grave site, there were no holes dug, the bodies seemed to be lying where they had fallen. The scene reminded me of the stories I read in my grandad’s diary, when he visited east Russia to view the battle grounds his dad had talked about. Bone fields that stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions,still not cleaned up seventy years after the war, a human memorial to the millions that died. Emma grabbed the rope around my waist and we made our way along the river bank towards the A702 until we reached the edge of the field, and followed the hedgerow up the field parallel to the bodies. I couldn’t believe how far it stretched, we walked for a few fields until something caught my eye. About twenty yards into the field I could see what looked like a rifle, it was half sticking out of the ash blanket. I told Emma to wait while I went to take a closer look, my boots sank into the ground as I walked, each time I put my foot down I was aware it would probably be onto a body. It was like walking on one of those wonky bridges at the fair ground, each step landing in a unexpected way. When I reached the rifle, I kicked the snow off revealing a hand still attached to the weapon, the fingers were frozen solid around the gun and snapped off as I forced it out of its grip. I held the gun in two hands and pressed the trigger, but nothing happened, it was covered in ash and grit, clogging its moving parts, but there was no bullets anyway. I threw it back on the floor and brushed the ash of the man’s jacket to check his pockets. Inside I found a damp letter, an official looking paper addressed to Sergeant Walter Brown of Camp Blue. It was a descriptive battle plan, written by Special Operatives Soldier, Richard Newman, from Fort George, Inverness. In it he explained a plan to surround a camp in Scotland occupied by the creatures. Looking at the scene of mass death in these fields, they never got chance. The rest of the letter gave me other pieces of information that filled in a few more blanks, the resistance was an army determined to fight back, and Torriero was mentioned in the letter as a threat. It had the camp listed as Blackpool football stadium and hotel complex, with concerns raised as to its suitability due to the storms coming off the coast. The stadium was suffering, and they were spending too many hours and resources on its maintenance. I folded the letter up and put it in my back pocket. We knuckled down for a few more hours walking through the blustery snow until Emma couldn’t walk any further, and I was too tired to carry her. I had wanted to reach Bernard’s before the end of today, but it proved too much. We camped down in a derelict electrical building on the outskirts of Locharbriggs, I had to break through its chained metal fence, and then kick the door in. ‘Dad, it says danger on that sign’ said Emma, with a worried look on her face. ‘Look, in big red letters.’

  ‘I know what it says, but it’s not a danger any more’

  ‘You always said never, ever, go anywhere near anything that said danger, or has a picture of a skull and crossbones, and this has both.’

  ‘I know I did, and it’s good you remember these things, but there is no electricity in the whole of Great Britain, everywhere is down, trust me it’s safe.’ When we got inside the damp room, we laid our stuff out on the floor and had some cold supper with a drink of water. Emma sat on the plastic sheets eating her food and drinking her water, she looked exhausted, although she denied it as usual, claiming she was wide awake. I don’t like seeing her like this, so tired and fragile. She fell asleep within minutes, mouth wide open, spilling her water on the floor, I took it off her and laid her down, covering her with blankets. I left her asleep to take a look at Locharbriggs, the small town just ahead of us, using my binoculars to check for any sign of possible clothes shops, or trouble. In the field we were in, was a small lake surrounded by trees, beyond that was the town, with the opening to a deserted high street just visible. But it was something closer that caught me eye, halfway around the lake, there was a bench set back from the path, with trees for cover. From where I was standing I could see a camp had been made with a makeshift wooden door for a roof, turned onto its side and pushed into the branches of the trees, the whole thing had been covered with a blue tarpaulin. I walked around the lake to take a closer look, moving the cover to the side with my crowbar, to see if there was anything worth scavenging. There were empty food packets and some very damp towels, when I bent down to climb inside, I noticed there were bodies, three of them, a mother, father and child. They were covered in blankets, but it hadn’t been enough, I think they had frozen to death. It’s sad to think they had been just two hundred yards from a building that would have probably protected them enough to survive, but they chose to stay and paid for that mistake with their lives. But it’s not fair to be critical, I have no idea what conditions they were dealing with, some days during our journey I haven’t been able to see a metre in front of me, staying alive has a lot to
do with luck. They had not been dead long, their skin still blue, waxy and rock hard like meat just out of the freezer. The boy looked a little older than Emma, but not much, his clothes just might save her life, their bad luck might just be our good luck. I took the blankets off him to have a better look, I needed to take everything including his underwear. I started with his trainers and socks, which came off easily, but everything after that was a struggle. With no movement in the legs, I had problems with his pants, struggling with the position he had frozen in, as he had curled up into a ball, trying to keep as warm as possible. There were some uncomfortable cracking sounds as I forced his legs into a position I could work with, after sometime pushing them down his legs, I removed a pair of pants and under pants. I then had to pull his T-shirt and jumper over his head, which was particularly distressing, his face was so well preserved, I half expected him to open his eyes. I took the clothes back to our base and hung them up to dry on the metal fence surrounding the generator, they should be dry enough to wear tomorrow, as they were more cold than wet. The wind and rain was battering the building as I settled down to write the days diary entry, I have always felt happy, snuggled up in bed with Emma when its cold, windy and rainy outside. At the weekend I would always tell her to come into my bed when she woke, as long as it’s not too early, today I’m just happy we are both alive.

  21/11/2027 - Time 20:40

  Emma woke up in the early hours, before the sun had started its pointless journey into our sky. At first she was just whimpering, so I left her, but it soon became a full on scream, so I rolled over to calm her down. I wondered what horrors had presented themselves to her, as I held her close, and stroked her head, softly reassuring her. ‘Everything is going to be OK, I promise you. Everything is going to be OK.’ Just like when she was a baby, but this time I had to convince myself too. When I opened the door to the building we had spent the night in, I had a feeling outside would look a bit different than it had yesterday. The snow we had dealt with for the previous day had been washed away by the storms overnight, the building battered for hours by the rain. I had forgotten to check the bodies of the parents last night, so decided to go back and search them for anything worth keeping, while Emma was still asleep. I walked back around the lake to the bench, pulled the blankets off and searched them, turning them over, but I found nothing of value. I covered the bodies up with the damp blankets and headed back towards Emma. When I got there, I was confronted by a flustered looking daughter. ‘Where were you daddy? I thought you had gone.’

  ‘I told you I would never leave you, you know that.’

  ‘But you did, I didn’t know where you were.’

  ‘I was only over there’ I said, pointing at the lake. ‘I could see you the whole time.’

  ‘But I couldn’t see you, I was scared you had gone, promise me you won’t do that again dad.’

  ‘Okay, I promise.’

  I felt the boy’s clothes that had been hung up to dry overnight, they were still a little damp, but no more than Emma’s own clothes. I folded them up and placed them next to her, telling her to try them on. ‘Where did you get them from?’ She asked, trying to hide a yawn with her hand.

  ‘I found the bodies of a family’ I replied.

  ‘Were they all dead?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Was there a dead boy?’

  ‘Yes, he had frozen to death.’

  ‘How old was he?’

  ‘I’m not sure, around your age.’

  ‘Can I see him?’

  ‘Do you need to? It won’t change anything.’

  ‘I still want to see him.’

  She put the clothes on, which fitted pretty well, only needing a little turn up on the length of the legs. I certainly felt happier with her appearance, you would have to look very closely to realise she’s not a boy. While we ate breakfast, sat on our fold up chairs, I emptied Emma’s pant pockets into my hand. It consisted of sweet wrappers, a plastic ring, other pretend jewels and the 9mm bullet she had decorated. I handed them over to her and she put them in her new pants pocket, we then quickly packed our rucksack and set off towards the lake. When we reached the tarpaulin, I lifted it aside with my crowbar, revealing the three bodies covered in blankets. I wasn’t sure I should let her look at him, but she’s going to have to deal with death, and will see worse things in the future. She bent over his body and lifted the blanket off his face, looking at him for a few seconds before covering him up again. ‘Do we really need to take his clothes dad?’

  ‘He doesn’t need them any more, and you do.’

  ‘But it doesn’t feel right, leaving him here like this.’

  ‘What do you want me to do with him?’

  ‘I don’t know, do you think they were nice people?’

  ‘I think they were good people, who would want you to have these clothes, they would be happy that they could help people like us.’

  ‘Could you bury him?’

  ‘Not without a spade, the ground is too hard.’

  ‘I don’t want to leave him like this.’

  I could see she wasn’t going to change her mind, so I suggested we burn his body in a Viking style funeral on the lake, after a bit of persuading she agreed. I dismantled their makeshift camp, to find pieces for the raft, pulling the wooden door down and placing it on top of the tarpaulin, which I had laid out on the edge of the lake. Emma collected branches off the floor, while I placed the boys body on top of the door. We both carefully put the branches over the top of him as neatly as possible, until he had completely disappeared. I poured over a little lighter fluid, set fire to some waste paper we found in the electrical building, and threw it on. We both pushed the raft into the middle of the lake, and stood watching as the wet branches final began to catch fire. Emma thanked the boy for his clothes, and said a prayer for him and his parents, that they were now safe in heaven. We stood for a few minutes warming ourselves, as the huge crackling fire burned, lighting up the whole lake, the vibrant flames rippling across the water, pumping dirty black smoke into the sky. We left shortly after, before anyone could be alerted to the darkening clouds. The conditions were the best we had experienced since we left my farm, the snow had gone and the winds had dropped. Although it was still cold, the floor had started to defrost, but it was hard enough to walk comfortably. I was happy with Emma’s appearance, so I allowed her to walk by my side, which she did for the first few hours. I had driven down the road we were following on many occasions, to visit Bernard. I would gaze out of the window at the incredible Scottish countryside, sweeping vistas and stunning valleys. It’s amazing the contrast between the highs and lows you can view over just a mile driving, but walking the same hills is an altogether different experience. But knowing we were this close to Bernard’s helped to spur us on, after a few hours a river appeared on our right I identified as the Nith, it stayed with us for a while and then headed off to the west. I have sat in ‘The Riversend’ pub overlooking the river Nith on many occasions, it’s located ten minutes walk from Bernard’s property along Edinburgh Road. The back patio opens out over the river, and the front overlooks the high street. When the river came back around on itself, we picked it up again and followed it until we reached the pub, cutting out as much of the town as possible. Bernard’s property is located ten minutes walk into the centre, down a side street. He has owned the weapon shop for over twenty years, and lives in the flat above. First we would have to navigate the town centre, I could see the red brick wall of the pub from some distance away, the thatched roof had partly collapsed at the back but it was still recognizable. The river was as high as I have ever seen it, come to think of it, all the rivers we have past have been struggling to contain the mass of extra water from the storms. We climbed over the sty, into the beer garden and made our way towards the building. The tables still had cutlery laid out, menus sat in their racks, any glass not smashed and still standing was full of ash. I climbed up the wooden stairs to the back entrance and wiped the dust off the
patio windows to look inside, it had been trashed, with the remains of tables and chairs smashed across the floor. I held Emma’s hand and we walked around the side of the building to the front, where there was a high wooden fence following the path with a gate at the end. I quietly unhooked the latch and opened the gate, peering around the side of the building and down Edinburgh Road. It looked deserted, the wind was blowing dust and ash from building to building, it was littered with abandoned vehicles and rubbish, but there was no sign of life. I tightened my grip on Emma’s hand and pulled her along as we walked past the front of the pub, and onto the dusty road. There was a car in front of us, destroyed by falling stones from the side of the building opposite. We walked in between the bricks and other debris, past the car and on towards Bernard’s. We were slow and deliberate, looking at every building, through every window, as carefully as we could. Shortly after we had past the town hall, I heard the noise of a engine in front me and pulled Emma into the nearest shop front. The glass crunched as we ran across the floor of the newsagent’s, trying to find some stairs. The room was littered with anything looters had discarded, I ran up and down the aisles, looking for the stairs. When I got to the counter, I noticed a dark brown door behind it. We went around and opened it unveiling a stairwell, it was dark and damp inside, I could hear water droplets dripping by my head as I closed the door at the bottom and we climbed the stairs. There was another door at the top that was half open, we went inside and shut it behind us. The room stunk of cigarettes, the nicotine was dripping off the walls, the room had a table and chairs, a bed, a sofa, and a toilet with a sink. There was no belongings left inside, they had even taken the pictures off the wall leaving squares of colour behind, unaffected by the nicotine. I ran over to the window and moved the netting to the side, it was caked in ash, but I could just about see through it. I strained to look up the street, searching for the source of the noise, then I saw them. Three men at first, then four, they ran across the street entering the buildings on the opposite side of the road. I put my face against the window and I could see more men on this side of the road. I searched the room, trying to find somewhere we could hide, a bed, a table, there was nothing that would really work. I took my rucksack off my back and put it on the bed, pulling my gun out and placing it on the table. Even though it had no bullets, it might be needed to scare someone. I told Emma to get under the bed and moved back to the window, outside the men had moved onto the next house. A truck had appeared in the centre of the road, it was travelling very slowly, smoke pouring from its exhaust. Stood on the back were two men with rifles and a group huddled at the front. I took my binoculars out to get a better look at the vehicle, I think the group huddled together at the front were women, but I couldn’t be sure. In houses opposite, I could see a man walking through the downstairs of the building, searching in every room. He looked inside cupboards and under tables before heading upstairs, he then checked in wardrobes and under beds, they left nothing to chance. If the front doors were locked, they would climb through the lower level windows, smashing the glass first if there was any. The only buildings they ignored were the ones they couldn’t get to, flats with no low level access or doors they were unable to breach. The flat we were in was above a shop, would they notice the stairwell up to this room? I told Emma to get out from under the bed, if they came into this bedsit and found us hiding, they would surely take her and kill me. I told her to sit at the table, and I covered my gun up with the rucksack. I looked out of the window again, there were men milling around outside this property, I took my crowbar off my rucksack and leaned it against the side of the sofa. I heard the sound of feet in the room below, glass crunching, and men laughing. I stopped moving and concentrated, I couldn’t hear anything else, maybe they had gone. I glanced at the window, the truck had continued up the road and had now stopped, maybe thirty yards away. I heard a sound below us, as the door to the stairwell opened, and footsteps climbed the creaking staircase to the door at the top. I sat down on the bed as the door handle rotated and then opened. Stood in the doorway was a disgusting individual, fat with a big brown beard and a shaven head, he had a black and red tattoo that stretched across the left side of his face and neck. He wore a big black jacket and jeans, holding his rifle by his side. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ He said, in low gravelly voice.