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

by Johnson, Glen

  Bugger it. It sounds like it’s getting worse.

  And what’s this about doing all they can! Don’t they mean, ignoring everyone?

  There wasn’t enough tape to seal all the windows and doors. The larger gaps were stuffed with rolled-up rags and clothes, with the curtains bunched up and forced behind the radiators.

  She left Abel in the lounge while she went to boil a huge vat of water, ready for a round of Pot Noodles for tea.

  Throughout the remainder of the evening, she found herself calling him Lennie without even realizing it. He didn’t mind. He kind of liked the name, it rolled off the tongue.

  15

  Tuesday 1st January 2013

  New Years Day

  Day 18

  Betty didn’t think things could get any worse.

  They did.

  She was woken up by being shaken in her sleep.

  “What is it Lennie? You know where the toilet is, go on your own.” She had been calling him Lennie for five days now. She reasoned it was because it was a new start for them, being together again. Also, while stood in the kitchen preparing the food each day, she had lots of time to think. Her husband, Abel senior, was on her mind a lot, and deep down, it hurt every time she thought of, or heard his name. Besides, it seemed so natural, and he seemed to like it, and responded to it.

  “Smell!” he mumbled while starting to cough, while rubbing his eyes with his large hands.

  She realized; in her sub consciousness, that she had heard banging, like small explosions for the last hour or so. However, she was so tired from feeding everyone, and helping to clean them, then sort through the piles of medication, which she had stolen, and try to work out from the long list of what the residents were on, and what they needed, and did they have it in one of the piles in front of her, that her mind simply ignored it, and she refused to wake up.

  It dawned on her that some idiot somewhere was letting off fireworks. It sounded close.

  She then noticed smoke drifting under their door.

  Betty sprung from the bed like a trapeze artist. She rushed to the door and placed a palm on the wooden surface. It was cold. She gingerly tapped the metal door handle. Also cold.

  “Good that means there’s no fire directly outside this door.” She looked at Lennie.

  “Grab the bag, and put your overall on!”

  Lennie slowly dressed and pulled the bag over his thick shoulders. It was an emergency bug out bag she had prepared.

  She saw a TV program about it years ago; Bear Grylls described it and what to put in it. The bag had everything they needed to survive for twenty-four hours, in case they had to get out fast. There was food, water, and some clothes. Betty couldn’t find any sleeping bags in the building. She guessed eighty year olds seldom went camping.

  She didn’t like wasting time, but if there was a fire raging throughout the building, she wanted to be prepared once the door opened.

  Betty felt awful when a little voice at the back of her mind said, That’s right, take your time. The longer you take, the less people there will be to cook for, to clean for, and wipe the ass of.

  She pulled on an old brown dress, a green polo neck jumper, and pushed her feet into some trainers. She then grabbed two blankets off the bed.

  “Put this over your head,” she said. She knew it would help with the smoke.

  She couldn’t understand why the fire alarm wasn’t ringing. It then dawned on her, there was no power.

  She hadn’t thought to turn the light on as she rushed around due to the bright light of the full moon pouring in the open curtains – Lennie didn’t like to have the curtains closed; he didn’t like the feeling of being closed in.

  She flicked the switch up and down – nothing.

  Betty slowly turned the handle. The door felt stiff. As she pulled she understood why; the fire had consumed a lot of the oxygen in the building, and due to most of the gaps in the doors and windows being sealed, her room was now like a vacuum. The door handle was sucked from her hand and slammed closed.

  Ah, crap!

  Think, think, think!

  Betty rushed towards the window. There was a long nightgown forced into the gap at the bottom of the creaky window. She gripped the frame and pulled it up.

  Lennie stood behind, like a statue, waiting for instructions.

  More smoke started to pour under the door.

  Betty grabbed the duvet off her bed and tossed it at the base of the door, and kicked it into place.

  There was shouting in the hallway outside, followed by a loud, pain filled scream, and a rushing sound.

  Someone had ignored the pulling weight of the vacuum that the fire had caused and obviously swung their door open.

  The rushing sound turned into a roar; light bulbs could be heard popping like dull gunshots.

  “The window is our only hope!”

  Betty looked down at the roof eight feet below. The roof of the lounge was flat and covered in a splattering of dirty, plastic bubble windows. One of the windows was melting; thick black smoke poured out, with orange flames licking up over the rim.

  “We need to hurry, before the roof collapses!” She looked across the roof. It was the kind covered in roofing tar, and sprinkled with gravel. In places it looked like the tar was starting to melt.

  “You climb out first, and then help me down.”

  There was a shattering sound of glass and a high-pitched scream. Betty looked to the right just in time to see Mrs. Lee flying through the air engulfed in flames. Her body hit the roof with a wet smack; it lay twitching, with the body fat spitting.

  “Let’s go!” She shouted over the roaring sound originating from the other side of their bedroom door.

  Lennie grabbed the window frame and shoved upwards. The old window had been sticking lately. Lennie just cured that. The frame shot up, wedging wide open, while cracking half the panes – one fell out, tumbling to the roof top.

  Their bedroom door creaked and buckled. The paint on it started to bubble and run over the duvet and pool on the carpet.

  Slowly, Lennie put one foot through, followed by his shoulder. It was a very tight fit. The bag got caught.

  Betty pushed with all her might. The bag squeezed through.

  It was eight feet to the roof. Lennie was seven feet two inches. As his feet touched down, he stepped back, allowing his grandmother room to maneuver. As she was halfway out, he plucked her off the sill and lowered her to the roof.

  “Over there!” Betty shouted to be heard over the sound of the roaring flames that billowed out of the windows to their right. Another window shattered with the smoke pouring out, followed by curling flames.

  As they carefully moved over the roof, as fast as they could, the tar below their feet was melting. The sound of the sticky, hot tar sucked at their shoes.

  They made it to the edge of the roof. A garden arbour, with a pitched roof, and latticed sides, which had two seats inside, was up against one wall.

  Carefully, they climbed onto the roof and used the side lattice as a ladder to climb down.

  They quickly moved away from the windows. As they did the power flicked back on. The fire alarm started blaring. Lights flashed on in rooms where they hadn’t popped.

  They jogged around to the front of the property. The large front doors were locked.

  So far, no one, apart from them, had made it outside.

  “Where is everyone?”

  Another window two stories up exploded in a shower of glass. A burning curtain floated down onto the grass.

  “Lennie, open this door!” Betty said, as she stepped back from trying the handle.

  Lennie lumbered forward, and with one kick the door reeled open, hanging off one hinge.

  The large reception hall’s ceiling was rolling in thick smoke.

  Betty shouted at Lennie to stay where he was, as she pulled the polo neck jumper up over her mouth and nose, then pulled the blanket on her shoulders over her head, and ran into the burning buildi
ng.

  16

  Betty ran straight through the reception hall, straight into the large lounge.

  The first thing she noticed was the towering Christmas tree, it was burning like a Roman candle. The tree hissed and spat, as the sap boiled. The baubles exploded, and the tinsel went up in flames as if it had been doused in petrol. The curtains were whipping about as they burned, as if they were reeling in pain. Most of the chairs were burning, and so was sections of the carpet, where the superheated smoke had set the decorations alight, and they had dropped – burning – to the floor.

  The stairs to the upper levels was over next to the flaming tree. There was no possible way of reaching them.

  The stairs were acting like a chimney for the superheated air, forcing it upstairs. It was so hot, even the plaster was dropping off the walls.

  The roar of the fire was deafening. Wood cracked like gunshots. Objects hissed and popped.

  Betty could see a charred body at the foot of the stairs.

  Just then, the upper floor creaked, and a large section collapsed onto the stairs. Burning embers billowed throughout the room.

  All this took mere seconds to register.

  The wide-open front door now gave the fire new oxygen to feed on.

  Just as Betty ran in, registering the destruction, the fresh air poured around her, billowing in, filling the void.

  A mighty roar filled the lounge as the fresh oxygen filled the room. In a fraction of a second the flames doubled in size.

  Dear god!

  Betty could feel her hair frizzling under the intense heat.

  Just then a huge arm grabbed Betty, hefting her off her feet and carrying her outside.

  Lennie may be slow, but he knew danger when he saw it. He learned at an early age never to play with fire – it hurt.

  He put her down outside, on the driveway.

  Betty stared in silent fascination, wrapped in the blanket as the building burned.

  Slowly, like she was in a nightmare, Betty walked around the whole building. She was checking they weren’t the only ones to get out.

  Lennie ambled behind her.

  After walking around the nursing home twice, she realized it was useless. No one could have survived.

  A few neighbours stood in their gardens, or on the road. They didn’t come over to offer help; they were simply checking the fire wasn’t going to spread to their property.

  No fire engines, or ambulances, or police appeared. It was if the death of all those inside meant nothing.

  Betty stood shivering, as their faces flashed through her mind.

  It was a long list.

  Tears ran clear lines in Betty’s soot covered face.

  Dawn was slowly arriving, with the sky growing brighter by the minute.

  Surely, we cannot be the only ones to get out alive? Then again, if it wasn’t for Lennie, I would have probably slept until it was too late. And I would’ve probably broken a leg climbing out of the window.

  Without the power, and the fire alarm, they really didn’t stand a chance. Most of them probably didn’t even know what was happening. Hopefully, the smoke got most of them before the flames reached them.

  A week ago, they found out that someone had broken into the outbuilding, next to the kitchen, and stolen parts off the nursing homes backup generator.

  Because of the power cut, and no backup, the sprinkler system hadn’t kicked in.

  They stood for in the predawn light watching the building burn. After an hour, the roof gave way and collapsed into the main structure.

  To Betty, it reminded her of when a large bonfire falls in on itself; when the wood gives way, and a towering shower of ember’s dance high into the air.

  17

  Day 19

  They stayed till the afternoon.

  The worst of the fire was over.

  The place looked like a war zone. The roof was gone, and all the windows were blown out. Debris littered the garden and driveway and out onto the road. The once colourful lively house was now just a dirty, smoke stained, blackened shell.

  Smells filled the air – burnt paint, melted nylon carpets, and the sickly sweet smelly of overcooked meat.

  Betty gripped Lennie’s hand, and they started walking. She didn’t know where. Just anywhere away from the fire. They needed to find somewhere to stay, somewhere to sleep.

  All they had was the clothes on their backs and what was in the bag.

  Walking through the quiet, winter park, was a shock to the senses after watching a building burn to the ground, killing everyone inside. Leaves scuttled across the grass. Branches swayed in the wind.

  Betty decided the town was their best option. The supermarkets were picked clean. There was a better chance of finding food where there were more shops.

  They slowly walked down through Devon Square. She thought about checking inside the large church, but decided against it when she noticed a huge red cross painted on the large front wooden door. She hoped it was paint. The last thing they needed was to bump into a group of fanatics – bible wielding happy clappers looking for a victim to sacrifice. These sort of circumstances brought the weirdos out of the woodwork.

  Queen Street was deserted, as if the population were hiding after they had ransacked everything, thinking a reprisal was on the way.

  There was rubbish littered all over the pavements and roads. Vehicles were abandoned everywhere – some were just burnt-out shells.

  Lennie walked beside her; his feet pushed through the rubbish rather than lifting them over it.

  Betty couldn’t understand why people would do this to their own town?

  Shop windows were smashed. Large metal shutters hung all twisted and battered. Objects were dragged out onto the street and then abandoned.

  Thick, slate-grey clouds loomed above, promising a heavy downpour.

  They needed to get inside. The last thing they needed was to get soaking wet. Plus they hadn’t eaten all day, and Betty’s throat was parched.

  They walked past hair salons, a video repair store, a butchers shop, and a chemist – all looted and ransacked.

  In the distance a door slammed shut.

  On the right-hand side was a primary school. The building looked pretty much unaffected by the looting.

  Betty led the way.

  The front door was kicked in.

  Inside a hallway went straight down the middle, with classrooms on either side. There were coat hooks down both sides of the hallway. Many small coats and bags hung from the hooks, as if everyone had disappeared; running off and leaving them behind. There were a few books, pencils, and scraps of paper scattered around on the floor.

  The classrooms were unaffected. Betty expected the tables and chairs to be smashed up and thrown around.

  Maybe people felt bad looting a children’s school? she reasoned.

  The cafeteria was empty; all the food had been taken. Pots and pans were strewn about, along with the cutlery.

  The nurse’s office had been ransacked, obviously people were looking for any kind of drugs. However, the cot was there, where sick children could have a lie down if they were feeling unwell.

  Betty told Lennie to take a nap. She left him on the cot, with his legs hanging over the end, and the bed creaking in protest, as she headed back up the main hallway. She had an idea.

  18

  Day 20

  They took turns sleeping on the cot.

  Betty’s hunch had worked; she found food.

  The children’s hanging school bags still had their pack lunches inside. The sandwiches were moldy, but the crisps, packet food, and sweets were edible. And they had a pile of drink cartons to add to the bottle of water they had in their bag.

  Betty collected a stack of bright, colourful children’s books from the classrooms, and Lennie sat looking through the pictures.

  It wasn’t an ideal place to stay, but they had enough food for a few days and something to sleep on, and it was out of the cold and rain.

/>   The children’s toilets were useless, as they looked like they were built for midgets – which, in a way, they had. Luckily, there were the teachers full-sized toilets next-door to the nurse’s office.

  The day passed quietly.

  Lennie sat flicking through the books, and playing with his stuffed Bob the Builder toy, while Betty searched the school for anything she may have missed.

  As they were settling down for the night, a loud noise made them stop what they were doing.

  There was someone out in the hallway.

  There was boisterous, angry shouting, as a heavy object was tossed against a window. The sound of the glass shattering echoed throughout the empty corridors.

  Betty moved over to the door. She used a finger to move the plastic blind aside that was covering the door’s window.

  She could see four people in the hallway.

  “There it is, grab it!” a youngish lad said who was wearing a red hoody, with a white base ball cap underneath. He was swinging what looked like some kind of sword around.

  Then the bark from a dog echoed throughout the school.

  Lennie jumped to his feet; the books fell across the floor. He stood behind his grandmother and gripped the blind and ripped it off the door, as his body maneuvered his grandmother out of the way.

  “Shhhh, no Lennie,” she whispered, hoping they hadn’t noticed the movement.

  “Doggy!” Lennie muttered as he leaned down and pressed his face right up against the glass, while trying to search the corridor through the small window.

  There was a loud banging as the three others joined in by swinging weapons.

  The dog howled in pain.

  Lennie became upset – someone was hurting an innocent animal. He gripped the door handle and almost pulled it off the hinges while swinging it open.

  Lennie ducked under the doorframe and stepped out into the hallway.

  A chav, about twelve years or so old, noticed movement. He wore a black bomber jacket with a red Manchester United F. C. shirt underneath, and dirty grey tracksuit trousers. He was gripping a baseball bat.