The Sixth Extinction & The First Three Weeks & The Squads First Three Weeks Omnibus [Books 1-10]

by Johnson, Glen

  Noah emptied the lottery scratch cards and chocolate bars from his bag, and slung it back over his back. He had stuff he needed to find. He had to head back out while he still could.

  A woman’s scream from outside froze him to the spot. It was the shriek of physical pain. He ran to the window. Down in the street a skinny, middle-aged man was kicking a woman on the ground. People around them ignored the fight, leaving a clear space, as if they were rocks in a river.

  9

  Noah had to rush through the chip shop. To run around would take too long. He fumbled with the keys to the door from the shop into the back of the building. He had two deadbolt locks to open. As he swung the thick door open, he got the keys ready to open the front door. However, he did not need them; the front window was smashed, with a public bin resting on the glass.

  He could hear the woman still screaming.

  He was not a violent person, or someone who involved themselves in someone else’s troubles. However, if he did not intervene, he was sure the man would kick the woman to death.

  The street was still busy. People were keeping away from the man. They continued to rob the shops, running off with armfuls of loot. Nevertheless, no one came to the woman’s aid; they pretended they could not see what was happening.

  “Leave her alone,” Noah shouted as he rushed out of the smashed window, pushing past people, and then barging into the mans back, knocking him over the woman. The man went down hard, face-first into the concrete.

  Noah was ready to punch if necessary, but the man just rolled over.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” The voice was not the mans, but the woman’s who was being kicked.

  “Leave my husband alone,” she screamed, as she slowly, and painfully got to her feet.

  Noah was confused.

  The mans face was bleeding, with blood pouring from his broken nose.

  The woman pushed Noah in the chest with both hands.

  “He was hitting you... He-he...” Noah stuttered.

  The woman pushed him again, and then turned to help her husband to his feet.

  “You fucking animal. Look at what you did!” she screamed.

  “He was kicking you!”

  “Mind your own fucking business!” she hollered as she put her arm around her husband, and they started walking off down the street. Him bleeding and her limping. She talked to him softly, as she held a tissue over his nose.

  What the hell?

  Noah stood staring at them walking off.

  People are going crazy!

  The crowd closed back in, filling the empty space. The sounds of the street returned, as if the void had been filled.

  Noah ducked back through the broken window. He was not alone. Two teenagers were inside, heading through the open door into the back of the chip shop.

  10

  The teenagers did not look too old. They were possibly sixteen, maybe seventeen. He was older, but they looked thickset for their age, and they were both taller than he was. If he tried to fight them both, he could get hurt.

  They wore the clothes of skateboarders, loose tee shirts and hoodies, with the strange skintight beige trousers with baggy crotches that made the person look like a child wearing a nappy. They both clutched skateboards.

  He only had one chance to get them out. The looting was in full swing, but he hoped the mindset of the people was still cautious. Give it a few more days and things would change; people would get even bolder, but he hoped that it was still unnatural for people to act so brazen.

  “Hey! What the fuck are you doing in my shop?” he shouted at their backs.

  The two teenagers jumped.

  “Get the fuck out now, before I grab my cricket bat!”

  Noah shouted even louder. “Hey, Steve, Mike, Lou, Adam, we have two punk kids down here in our shop!”

  “We don’t want any trouble; we thought it was empty man,” the tallest lad said.

  “Steve, Mike, Lou get down here quick! Adam, bring my bat!”

  “We’re going man. It’s just a big misunderstanding.” The two teenagers looked around for a way out.

  “Get the hell out before Adam gets down here with my willow-wood bat!” Noah stepped to the side so the lads could get out.

  They both looked wide-eyed and scared, and unmoving.

  “Now!”

  They jolted and started running for the smashed window.

  Noah watched them join the throng of bodies outside. A man ducked under and stepped into the shop.

  Noah rushed into the back room, swinging the thick door shut, slamming it and clicking both deadbolts into place.

  That was close.

  He checked the back door was locked. He decided he needed to do something to make his flat safe.

  11

  Noah worked through the afternoon. He carried four large blue plastic bins upstairs from the storeroom. He used the hose from downstairs, connecting it to his kitchen tap, and after placing the four bins, one in each corner of the room, he filled them to the brim with water. He then wrapped industrial cling film over the top.

  He could not carry a freezer up the stairs, so he took another blue bin upstairs and only filled it up quarter way. He then sealed frozen food into plastic bags and dropped them into the cold water. He hoped they would last longer than being left out in the open.

  He packed his fridge to the brim and turned it up full.

  Most of the tins and packet food and sauces he carried upstairs, along with two large tins of cooking oil and three large bags of potatoes.

  Even though it was almost freezing outside, he was in his tee shirt sweating.

  He stood on his fire escape looking at the ladder mechanism. As far as he was aware it had not been lowered in years. It took a couple of hard kicks to loosen the rust, until the lever twisted and the ladder slid down with an ear piercing grating sound.

  Noah returned inside and filled a bowl with the used oil from the fryer. He poured it over the mechanism, and down the lever.

  After rifling around in the cupboards, he found what he was looking for, Eric’s tools. With six-inch nails, he proceeded to nail the door to his flat shut. He then, with great difficulty, dragged a large old-fashioned cupboard across his door, hiding it from view.

  As he was catching his breath, leaning against a wall, someone started banging on the back door.

  Shit!

  He silently moved over to the door.

  Suddenly, the sound of keys jingled in the lock. However, the person could not open the door because Noah had wedged a chair under the handle.

  “Noah, are you there? It’s just me, Roxi!”

  “Roxi?” Noah said, while pulling the chair away.

  Outside Roxi was with her three oldest children.

  Noah could see her old white Renault Scenic parked in the back lane.

  “I didn’t know where else to go for food. All the shops are empty. We have just come from Tesco’s.” She stood with her children huddled around her. Noah noticed another sat behind the wheel in the vehicle.

  “Of course, there’s plenty here.” Noah stood back, allowing them entry, as if he was some kind of guardian, and they needed his approval to be able to step inside.

  He helped them carry frozen food, tins, and potatoes to their minivan. There was still plenty left.

  After they had stacked up as much as they could, with the children sat balancing stuff on their laps, Roxi turned and gave Noah a hug.

  “Thank you Noah, I always knew you were one of the good ones.” She stepped back. “God bless you, and may he watch over you.” Before Noah had chance to reply, Roxi jogged to her vehicle and jumped in. All the children waved as the car drove away.

  He then wheeled in the wheelie-bins and proceeded to empty them all over the cupboard and shelves. He scattered frozen fish and all the other frozen food that was left everywhere. Hopefully, when it thawed out it would start to stink.

  Noah locked the back door, and forced the chair back under the
handle.

  He then proceeded to trash the storeroom, making it look like someone had already rummaged through everything.

  By the time he had finished it was dark out, and the streets only had a few people milling around. The streetlights did not come on. The local council was trying to stop people from wandering the streets.

  Noah listened at the door for a few minutes to check no one was in the shop. Once he was sure he was alone, he opened the door slowly. He locked it from the shop side, in case anyone came in. He then proceeded to toss everything combustible out into the street.

  By the time he climbed the fire escape, and wound it back up, it was almost 6 PM.

  Noah was dirty and exhausted.

  While he took a shower, the power went off. He was covered in shower gel. The shower was electric. He stood shivering in the dark waiting for the power to flick back on. It did after about a quarter of an hour.

  Noah spent four hours cooking pies, sausages, and burgers. He stacked the cook food on plates and trays and covered them in tinfoil. He did not know how much longer the power would last, and if it did switch off for good, he would have no way of cooking the food. At least cooked he could live on it for a while. Cooked and old was better than raw.

  As the food cooked, he watched another fire glowing over the top of the nearby flats.

  He had not turned the TV on all day. When he did, only a few stations were broadcasting. These were interrupted every thirty minutes with the emergency broadcast.

  One news flash stated that everyone was to stay inside. No one was allowed out for any reason. The next day put aside for venturing out to restock on provisions was in four days on Monday the 31st.

  Downstairs, in a cupboard, Noah found an unopened packet of four silver duck tapes. Standing on a chair, he taped over all the gaps in his two windows, down the outside and around each pane. He even walked down the stairs and taped around the nailed shut door.

  Noah noticed a blue Volvo was idling down on the street, with a family he recognized who lived opposite, running back and forth, filling the car to capacity with everything they loathed to leave behind. When it was full, the family squeezed in and then slowly drove off.

  Noah spent four hours on the internet, trying to find out what was happening around England and the rest of the world. Google was still not working, and most of the links on Bing were broken.

  With a flat full of the smell of fried meat and chips, Noah crawled into bed exhausted. He watched the glowing red from a fire flicker across the ceiling, wishing that he had someone he could hold, someone who could whisper in his ear that everything will be all right. He drifted off to sleep to dream about the colour red.

  12

  Friday 28th December 2012

  Day 13

  It was 5 AM and Noah was already up, stood at the window eating a cold steak pie with one hand, while holding a coffee cup in the other. He watched people outside fighting in the early dawn light over what little food was left in Iceland.

  Noah had a list of things he needed. Regardless of the curfew and house arrest, he had no choice. At the rate people were ransacking shops, if he did not go today there would be nothing left.

  He finished the last bite of the pie and rubbed a hand down his stubbled face.

  He wrapped a scarf around his nose and mouth, then grabbed his rucksack and climbed out the window, pulling it down shut after, leaving just enough room to get his fingers in to open it later. He lowered the ladder most of the way, leaving a ten foot drop at the bottom. He climbed down and lowered himself to the last rung before dropping to the concrete. When he returned he would use a bin to reach the ladder.

  It was still dark, and would be for a while. The streetlights were off. He carried a small torch. He hoped the batteries lasted.

  He looked both ways when he moved out of Union Street onto Courtenay Street.

  A few people were up early like him, or had been out looting all night. Three men and a teenage girl were loading boxes from Carphone Warehouse into a white van. One man stopped and looked over at Noah.

  Noah kept his head down.

  The man flicked his cigarette in to the street and returned to what he was doing.

  Noah stood outside Iceland looking in. The place was empty. They weren’t any food left inside. What was left of the shelving and freezers was destroyed.

  He carried on walking.

  Around the corner, an old woman strolled by in her dressing gown and slippers, walking her small Scotty dog. She paid no mind to the chaos and destruction around her.

  A silver Subaru Impreza, with a blue dragon motif down the side roared down the road, dodging the obstacles and then skidding around the corner. It vanished from view, even though he could hear it racing away into the distance.

  Noah’s breath billowed from his mouth. It was very cold. There was even a few ice patches on the pavement.

  He moved from the pedestrian Courtenay Street onto the longer Queen Street.

  The Christmas lights hung stretching from building to building. A few had fallen, or had been pulled down. All were off but one. It had an image of a train made out of green bulbs, the train flashed on and off. The whole street lit up green, before being plunged back into darkness.

  Cars were vandalized. One was even smoldering from a fire that had gutted it, leaving a smoking shell.

  Shops had their contents spilling out onto the streets as if they had been tipped on their side and shaken. Things too heavy to carry or broken remained where people had dropped them.

  Noah stepped back into the kicked open doorway of a betting shop, when he heard a group of chavs running from one side street out onto the road. He could hear them shouting at one another – boisterous and drunk.

  “Did you see that bitches face?” one voice shouted.

  “You showed her Carl. That bitch has been broken!” a whiny nasal voice stated.

  Noah could not see the yobs who were speaking because he was ducked down behind a tipped over fruit machine. Betting slips covered the floor.

  The group ran past the window, shouting and laughing and kicking at objects on the road.

  Noah did not want any trouble. He waited until their voices faded.

  The shop he was headed towards was just over the road.

  Millets front window crunched under his trainers. The place was ransacked, but most of it was still here, just all over the floor.

  The first thing Noah looked for was a better light. He found a Petzl Tikka Plus 2 headlamp on a hook on the wall. He pulled it on and switched on the bright LED beam.

  Noah kicked his way through the camping gear.

  He found a black and grey Vango Pumori seventy-liter backpack.

  One hundred and ten pounds that will do nicely.

  He stuffed his Oakley bag into it. He rummaged around until he found a four-season Deuter Exosphere -8 sleeping bag. He chose it because it had a one hundred and sixty pound price tag; he decided if it was that expensive it should be good. Next, were a two-man Vango tent and a Thermarest Prolite 3 regular sleeping Mat. Again, he picked it because it was ninety pounds.

  He found it strange that to connect with nature and sleep outside, under the stars was so expensive.

  As he was kicking around, he found a waterproof cover for the backpack. With the light he read the label. He was amazed that backpacks costing well over a hundred pounds were not one hundred percent waterproof, and that they required covers costing a further forty quid.

  Noah stuffed the sleeping bag and tent into the backpack. He then rummaged around and found a hard plastic Spork – a spoon and fork combo, cooking pots in a sack, and a small Coleman Sportster 2 gas stove.

  As he was rummaging through the gear, he was amazed at what things people would buy to go camping. There were things like inflatable solar lights, remote control tent lights, a two-way spirit level, tent carpets, hanging remote fans, and solar panels for recharging phones. He thought that the whole point of going camping was to get away fr
om the hustle and bustle of the day-to-day life, not take it all with you in a smaller, more expensive form.

  He put a Goal Zero 10 Adventure solar recharging Kit in his pack.

  Over in one corner was a tipped over display of Wayfarer pre-cooked boil in the bag meals. He picked up chilli con carne, all day breakfast, chicken tikka and rice, chocolate pudding, and a load of others, which he was surprised to see, had a three-year shelf life. He filled the remainder of the bag with as many as would fit in. There were still about twenty packets left, so he grabbed a small daypack and filled it up.

  He climbed the stairs to the second level. Upstairs was the shoes and clothing.

  Most of the items had been tossed around, just like downstairs. Apparently, camping gear was not high on people’s lists of things to steal. He felt that once the seriousness of the outbreak sunk in, people would be racing to the shop.

  He found a comfortable Scarpa Cyclone GTX right walking boot in his size. It took him ten minutes to find the left boot on the floor. He left his tatty trainers on a bench.

  It was starting to get light outside.

  Next to the counter was a door.

  Noah stepped over the broken cash register and stepped through the door. It led to a collection of rooms. A large storeroom that was ransacked, a toilet, and an office.

  The office was littered with paper. The window was broken, with the cold wind blowing in, whipping the paperwork around. The large table was pushed against the wall, punching a hole in the plasterboard. The computer screen was smashed on the floor. Someone had spray painted a tag on the wall in red, after knocking the pictures off. It looked like the initials S.N.O but it was hard to tell due to it looking like a four year old wrote it.

  Noah pushed the litter on the floor around with his new boots. There was nothing interesting.

  There was another open door in the office.

  Inside was a small cupboard. Boxes sat on the shelves, full of paperwork. Whoever opened the door had not bothered to throw all the boxes to the ground. They were probably too tired after trashing both floors and the office.