Would she ever consider taking Terry back if he changed for the better? Whilst given what she had already undergone warranted a hell fucking no to that question, she'd be lying to herself if she said that there wasn't still a part of her still clinging onto the probably fruitless hope that he would one day wake the fuck up and sweep her off her feet, but the real question was by the time he finally mustered up the balls to do so, would she still have the patience to accept him back into her life, he was already teetering on the precipice of her tolerance levels. 17 years of marriage was no easy thing to dismiss if it were even possible and to top that, they were practically inseparable before that, the very epitome of secondary school sweethearts.
Though there was no question surrounding Daniel's successes, she didn't want to marry him for his money, nor did she need any of it and no one could accuse her of that. She had always made and used her own money, his company however, was appreciated.
This morning for an example, Terry made her late, Daniel got her to work on time, polar opposites, one unreliable, the other reliable, they balanced each other out.
Working in St Pancras, of course congestion charges were a must, but fortunately that wasn't something Daniel worried about. With Daniel, everything felt so seamless, so simple, they worked in tangent, never argued and saw each other on equal terms, what could be better?
So why now was she still so irritable and thinking of her ex?
Think happy thoughts, she repeated in her head, at least the kids were out of the house now, though whether they would get to where they were planning to go on time or at all for that matter, was another question.
"Natasha?" The calling of her name brought her right back to reality.
"Yes?"
"You probably missed my question. Do you have a copy of the reports you sent me last week? I thought I had CC’d everyone into the copy I sent over to James, apparently not", her colleague replied.
"Give me a second...” Natasha replied, shuffling through the files she had on table and eventually finding something pertaining to the records requested.
"I do", she replied, pulling out the documentation.
She returned to her cubicle an entire hour later and glanced over towards her mobile to find a missed call from Terry. For heaven’s sake, what now?
She attempted to call him back, only to be rewarded with a ringing line, concluded with his answering machine.
"Hm... that’s odd", she muttered to herself. Sharing the cubicle, her colleague, Elmira Dowling, returned and placed in front of her a piping cup of tea.
"One sugar and a pinch of milk, just how you like it. That should perk you up, you look as sour as a lemon this morning, babe, something the matter?" Elmira enquired, taking a seat beside her.
"Terry", she replied simply.
"For fuck sake, what's he done now?"
"Who knows with that man".
"That man is a thorn in your side, babe. You need to get him out of your life before he sucks you dry, only so much you can take". Natasha laughed.
"He's the father of my kids, I couldn't and wouldn't do that to him".
"Too soft, babe. You need to teach him a lesson or two, kick him up the ass, make him realise what he'll lose. Did I ever tell you about my friend Jemimah? She was having man troubles and one day he took liberties, needless to say, she whipped his ass, made him her bitch and now he's on curfew. Maybe you need to simply crack the whip, babe".
"In his head he already believes he's lost everything except his kids. I couldn't take them away from him too. He might look tough but he's pretty fragile, I wouldn't want to be responsible for anything crazy he'd do to himself if I did that, I don't need that on my conscience, besides, my mother-in-law already gives me enough grief for not staying with him".
"Dragon bitch?" Natasha laughed. That was Elmira’s nickname for her.
"Yes, her. Hold on honey, I'm going to give Ria a call". Natasha left Elmira ranting to herself and called Ria, but a repeated message that the number was unavailable was the only response. This mystery was getting more and more disconcerting by the second, they couldn't possibly still be on the underground, surely.
"She's not answering...”
"I wouldn't worry too much, she's probably distracted with something or on the underground", Elmira replied.
"They can't still be on the underground and that girl never peels her face away from that phone screen. Besides, it's not just ringing and then going to the answering machine like Terry’s, it's just saying it's unavailable".
"Don't worry, it's probably nothing".
"Yeah... maybe you're right, I just have an irksome feeling and it won't go away".
"Try calling again in a few", Elmira suggested, stuffing her face with Yumease Biscuits.
"Yeah, that's my best bet".
A little past 1:08 and Natasha's phone began ringing. It was Ria.
"Ria? Are you okay, darling?" Natasha asked, picking up the phone.
"Mum! You won't believe what happened to me! I was on the train and then it just suddenly stopped, like literally. We were sat there for ages and then they finally made us evacuate the train and walk back to Sloane Square. There was this massive crowd and everyone started screaming and running from something and I managed to get upstairs and run away! Then I heard gunshots! But I didn't stop, I just kept running and took a train to Clapham Junction and got a new battery. Then dad called and...”
"Hold on, hold on, hold on, you are saying everything in a single go, honey, I barely heard a word you said. You were on the train and you had or evacuate?"
"Yes!"
"How?"
"We got off at the back and walked back to Sloane Square station on the tracks".
"Why? What did they say?"
"They didn't know at the time, but I know now it was terrorists".
"What? Terrorists?" Natasha’s outburst drew the attention of her colleagues.
"Yes mum, it was definitely a NOMA attack, I'm sure of it!" Natasha immediately switched to investigation mode, opening up a new tab on her browser in search of breaking news and it didn't take her very long to find it, for there at the top of search listings was Anarchy Hits the Streets of London, accompanied with endless listings, articles and live streams pertaining to the events.
"Where are you now, honey?" Natasha asked, as she scoured the internet looking for more information. There was a horrendous noise on the line and when it ceased Ria spoke again.
"Sorry Mum, those were helicopters. I've never seen so many, the sky was filled with them!"
"Where are you, Ria?"
"Clapham Junction".
"How did you get there? I thought you were at Sloane Square?"
"No mum, I told you I had to run from there because I heard gunshots".
"Gunshots? Jesus Ria! Where is your father? Let me speak to him now!"
"He's not with me, we got separated before we got on the train because of the crowds, he was on one of the ones behind me. He's okay though, I called him a few minutes ago, he's on his way here".
"How the hell did you get separated? I knew something like this would happen! What if something had happened to you? What if someone had...”
"Mum! Mum! I'm okay, I'll be fine. George is with him. I'll just wait here for him to get here, okay?"
"Unbelievable. Ria, I'm going to try your father again, I'll call you back in a minute, okay?"
"Okay, mum".
"Good girl, stay where you are, don't move".
"Yes, mum", Ria moaned. Natasha put down the phone and immediately began furiously tapping in Terry's phone number, as Elmira tuned into a live video feed from an INBC helicopter.
"Shit, this is pretty serious. They've barricaded the roads. I can't believe this". She turned up the volume and had already begun to attract the attention of neighbouring cubicles.
Terry’s phone just rang endlessly, but no one answered yet again.
"Dammit Terry! Answer the fucking phone!"
But Terry
had valid reason for not answering, for just then, he was coming around from a crash that could have just as well killed he and his son.
CHAPTER 8 - TERRY: 1:10pm - 1 Hour, 25 Minutes since outbreak
The sound of his cheesy Anna Swenton ringtone filled the overturned bus and continued on for some time before eventually stopping.
Terry himself roused from his dazed state, unsure of where he was for a moment. His head was throbbed and his vision could barely focus. Disoriented, he groaned as he rolled onto his side, every bit of his body ached.
His phone resumed ringing, snapping him out of his daze, before once again falling silent. Something trickled down his face and upon raising his hand to inspect it he discovered blood.
"Shit...” He groaned, but it seemed superficial. He was covered in glass. He glanced around, inspecting the wreck and was suddenly hit with the reminder of his son.
His eyes darted to and fro looking for George, but for a moment he couldn't find his boy. It became clear why, for he spotted his boy covered, almost hidden away by glass and damaged chairs.
Terry scrambled to his feet and ran over to push the broken chairs off of his son. He then brushed off the glass and held his unconscious son in his arms, or at least he really hoped he was unconscious.
"George, speak to me". He gently shook George, hoping his boy would stir, before running his fingers through his hair and bringing his mouth closer to his ear to check he was still breathing. He was, thank goodness.
"George, wake up, son".
George did finally stir and groan, much to Terry’s profound relief. His eyes gradually opened.
"I'm thirsty...” He groaned with a cough.
Terry chuckled.
"Let's worry about getting you out of here first, okay?"
"Where are we...?"
"The bus, it crashed. Does it hurt anywhere?" Terry asked, checking his son over. George attempted to move all limbs.
"I don't think so, my body just aches".
"Okay, that's good. You have a few scrapes and bruises, but you should be fine".
"You're bleeding, dad".
"I know, I'll be okay, don't worry about me. Can you get up?"
"I think so".
"I'll help you up, hold on to me". Terry assisted his son to his feet. "Holding up well there, son. That's a good lad".
"Help me...”Came the weak voice of someone towards the back of the mangled bus.
"Hold on! I'm coming back!" Terry shouted. With everything on its side, it would be no easy exit. Terry looked around, there were some shattered windows above, formerly the side windows, but they looked particularly perilous with all those shards of glass still protruding out. The alternatives were the front and back windscreens, the back doubled up as an emergency exit, but it didn’t look accessible at the current moment in time, what with chairs, handlebars and people piled up on top of one another. It looked as though the front windscreen was going to have to be their way out.
“Wait here”, Terry instructed, leaving George aside for a second to check the front windscreen. As he approached the windscreen, he spotted the driver’s arm hanging through a shattered hole in the driver's booth doorway glass. Blood seeped down, dripping onto the bus doorway, proclaiming without words the grisly demise of the driver. The entire front of the bus was a mangled mess, but a small, albeit dangerous, gap in the windscreen would allow for them to squeeze through with some tact.
He returned to George.
“Okay little man, I'm going to hoist you up through that gap in the windscreen, when you get out, get as far away from the bus as you can and wait for me. Don't go off with anyone”.
“Okay, daddy”, George replied, a tremble in his voice.
“Mind your head, lad, don't look up into the driver booth”. Terry helped him across, kicking out protruding glass from the windscreen.
"Be careful, don't touch the remaining shards of glass or stand on them if you can, climb out slowly and carefully, there's no need to rush, don't take any unnecessary risks".
"I'll be okay, dad", George replied, grabbing the side panels for balance.
Terry watched over his son, as he squeezed his way through and scrambled to his feet.
"You okay out there?"
"I'm fine".
"Okay, now get out of harm's way, I'll come find you after I'm done helping these folks".
"There's people all around. There's smoke coming from the bus, dad!"
"Don't panic, I'll be with you momentarily, lad".
"I don't want to go without you, dad".
"You'll be okay, I'm just behind you". Terry watched after his son, glad that he had thrown himself on top of the boy and in doing so managed to prevent what could have potentially been fatal.
There were more weak moans and groans from people trapped in the bus now. Terry pushed aside seats and shifted any other debris blocking his way in an attempt to reach people. His first port of call, a woman sat sobbing next to her unmoving husband.
Terry crouched down next to them and checked to see if the man was breathing, but no air escaped his lips.
"He... he won't move, why won't he move?" The woman croaked in her panic and anguish.
Terry attempted basic first aid, but to his dismay the man didn't respond.
"Hello! Is anyone in there?" Terry heard someone outside shout.
"There are people in here! They need immediate medical assistance! Call an ambulance!" Terry shouted back.
"This is the police, what is the situation?"
“The driver panicked and drove into your barricade with all of us on board, he's dead. My son is out there”, Terry replied.
“Yes, we have your son and the driver opened us up to danger, we can't help you right now and there are no paramedics on scene. Is anyone in there dangerous".
“No, we are all just passengers, it was the driver that crashed into you. Can’t you help?”
“No one can attend, you'll have to find a way out yourself”.
"What? There are people fucking dying in here! What do you mean you can't attend? We need emergency assistance right now!"
"Hold tight! There are some people willing to help. Do you smell gasoline or is there anything besides injury that poses immediate danger?”
“No, but people are in critical condition here and I can't guarantee some of them will make it if help doesn't come quickly!”
“We have to secure this road, but help is on the way".
“Thanks... for nothing", Terry grumbled under his breath, but it wasn’t long before he heard the ruckus of people surrounding the bus in an attempt to help.
“Can you open the emergency back window? We can get in and pull people out", someone asked. Leaving the woman and her husband - believing he was now a lost cause -, Terry made his way further towards the back of the bus. From what he could see, getting back there would be no easy feat without bypassing the injured people along the way and potentially harming them further.
A man's leg was trapped and from the looks of it, badly twisted.
Terry recognised this man, this was the son of a bitch who left that girl to die. Terry had half a mind to leave him there, but that would make him just as heartless as the bastard. Not wanting death on his hands, Terry tried to move the seat, only for the man to yelp in agony and immediately proceed to vent.
"What the flaming fuck do you think you are fucking doing you fucking asshole! Help me, don’t fucking make things worse!" Terry could have punched him right then and there, but this wasn't the time or place. Instead he disregarded the remark and apologised.
Not without more pain, he managed to free the man. The douchebag didn't even say thank you. He simply crawled away, mumbling about how important he was and how he wasn't even supposed to be here. What was he doing on a bus then?
By the time Terry had freed the man, two people had managed to climb on top of the bus and lower themselves in through the shattered side panes.
“Oh, thank the lord. Careful, it’s n
ot steady”, Terry warned, as they approached him and the ungrateful man. "Where are the paramedics? What the hell is going on?"
"I'm the wrong person to ask, mate. All I know is that they don't want to bring anyone to this place, nor are they letting any cars through towards South Kensington, both ways are blocked. I got caught in the blocked traffic, was trying to U-turn when I saw this bus come crashing through. From the way you guys were driving and the crash, I'm willing to bet you know more than we do", one of them replied.
"Believe me, I wish I could answer that question. The driver is dead, shit hit the fan back up towards South Kensington and I couldn't tell you if it was a terrorist attack or people having just lost their fucking minds. I just know that that entire region is ground zero at the moment”.
Terry shifted a cluster of broken seats to reach a pile of people, either dead or unconscious, at this point it was hard to tell.
“There is a peep of space at the front to exit from, though I mean it when I say peep, my son only just managed to get through. If you could help me over here however, I could open up that back window”.
Immediately they got to assisting him in clearing the way and opening up a route to the back, which meant in some cases stepping over those in less critical condition, at least momentarily.
The rescue operation proved something of a significant challenge, but only until he was able to clear a path to the back window, where upon he immediately proceeded to break the safety pin and pull the lever keeping their exit sealed. With a clicking sound, the locking mechanism released and the window opened. Almost immediately, random kind volunteers rushed in through the new entry point to help them carry the passengers out to safety.
As the last survivor was carried out of the bus, the remaining dead were then covered and also carried out of the bus. Eventually everyone was out, including the headless girl, whose friends and family, especially her parents, Terry couldn't help but feel emotional for, what a horrific and tragic way to go, not that dying in a bus crash was any better, but at least those bodies were intact. Terry couldn’t even begin to imagine their anguish. As morbid as it may seem, what if she was one of his children, what if that was Natasha?
Cryptophobia (Book 1): Outbreak [Fear The Unknown] Page 7
