by Moody, David
‘Trying to get online,’ he said. ‘It’s taking ages.’
Steven could tell from the light shining into Roy’s face from the phone that something was happening. ‘What’s it say?’
‘Can’t get much. All the social stuff’s down. BBC’s gone into panic mode by the looks of things.’
‘Panic mode?’
‘Yeah, not a lot of news, just loads of bullshit advice.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like stay indoors, don’t panic, don’t attempt to travel, you know, all the basic stuff we’ve completely ignored. Oh, and the Queen and her family and the Prime Minister and the cabinet are safe, if you give a shit.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Me neither. Let’s go find some food, mate, I’m frigging starving.’ They walked towards the service station hub together, Roy still checking the news, Steven still trying to ring out. The building up ahead looked reassuringly normal from out here, though there were people sitting on the parched grass outside and others huddled together around wooden picnic tables. ‘They’re saying don’t go out in daylight if you can help it,’ Roy continued. ‘Bloody joke that is. And shit, if you think it’s bad here, Steve, you should read what they’re saying about Africa.’
‘I don’t want to know. Harsh as it sounds, I don’t give a shit. All I’m interested in is—’
He stopped walking and shut up. He’d got through. The noise was weak and wavering, but the connection held. Steven froze, not wanting to do anything to risk losing the line. And then the ringing stopped, and he heard her voice. He was about to speak, temporarily elated, when he realised it was just Sam’s voicemail message. He waited for it to finish, then tried to speak. ‘Sam, it’s me... I’m just outside Birmingham... Been driving all day, but I don’t know how long it’s going to take... I had to stop, couldn’t keep going. Going to start off again in a little while. I’ll be with you late tonight or first thing tomorrow... Hope you and your dad are okay. It’s crazy out here...’ He tried to keep talking but couldn’t. He blamed it on the heat, but it was his emotions which were choking him.
Phones away, stay alert.
The illusion of normality they’d seen from outside the building was exactly that. They’d taken only a couple of steps inside when they stopped and looked at each other. Any ideas that this place might have been some kind of overlooked safe haven had been completely misguided. The lights still worked and the automatic doors continued to open and close, but otherwise the building was a people-packed ruin. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this,’ Roy mumbled.
‘Just have a piss, find some food, then get out.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
It was the appearance of the people here that surprised Steven more than anything. He’d always secretly enjoyed coming to these overpriced places because they were like nowhere else. There always seemed to be such an eclectic mix of folks using the facilities: families out on day trips, people dressed inclemently either on their way to the airport or just back from holidays, retired couples pottering, professionals here for fast-food power-lunches and mid-motorway business meetings... But he couldn’t see any of those kinds of people here today. There were no distinct groups, none of the stereotypical divisions he remembered. These people all looked the same, all sweat-soaked and raggedly dressed, united in their desperation. ‘They’re all like us,’ he said.
‘What are you on about?’ Roy asked.
‘Look at them all,’ Steven whispered. ‘We’re all in the same boat and there’s not a damn thing any of us can do about it.’
‘Don’t get all maudlin on me.’
‘Maudlin? Fuck’s sake, Roy, has it not dawned on you? It’s the end of the fucking world.’
‘Course it has,’ Roy answered, voice cracking, ‘but if I don’t say it, I don’t have to believe it.’
Steven walked deeper into the service station, aware of eyes watching him from every side. It occurred to him that some people had ended their journeys here, giving up on trying to get anywhere else. A family had set up home near the shuttered Burger King outlet; Mom, Dad, two young kids and a dog, all sitting around two small plastic tables they’d claimed as their own. The area immediately around them was piled high with their possessions packed in bulging bags and boxes. Mother and father had a child each, doing their best to keep them distracted and safe, trying to keep them cool.
‘See you back here,’ he said to Roy as he headed for the bathroom, but Roy was too preoccupied to answer. The toilets were in a slightly better state than the rest of the building, the ice-white tiles and harsh lighting at least giving the illusion of cool. There was another family in here, he noticed, six of them crammed into a large disabled cubicle. Five of them were sitting in silence on the floor, wedged up tight against each other, shoulder to shoulder. An elderly woman – wife, mother and grandmother, no doubt – sat on the throne above them, whimpering.
Steven chose a cubicle at the far end of the long bathroom space, then sat down and relieved himself. His guts were tightening before he reached the seat and he emptied his bowels with an unfortunate amount of noise and accompanying stench, far more than he’d expected. Nerves? Heat? A combination of the two? He was embarrassed, despite knowing that such things mattered less than ever now. He cleaned himself up, using the final few squares of toilet tissue sparingly, then stood up and stretched. He sat down again and stayed where he was for a couple of minutes longer, enjoying the quiet solitude of the locked cubicle. It felt easier to handle everything when his world was restricted to just this enclosed small square place. If he hadn’t had somewhere else to go, maybe he’d have stayed here too? The actions of the family in the disabled booth appeared far more sensible than he’d originally thought. It was deceptively quiet here, deceptively safe.
Steven had been sitting on the toilet for slightly too long, his head drooping with tiredness, when a loud crashing noise snapped him back to reality. He got up quick, cursing himself for wasting time, and let himself out. The creak of the cubicle door gave him away, but the man and woman he could see at the other end of the bathroom clearly weren’t interested. They’d prised a vending machine off the wall with a crowbar and were now scavenging the contents from amongst the glass shards and pieces of broken tile. He skirted around them, back against the wall, making it abundantly clear he wasn’t interested in any of their booty. The man glanced up, his long hair covering his eyes, then returned his attention to filling his pockets with chewable mint-flavoured tooth cleaning kits packed in little plastic balls. Christ, were they really so desperate for food? Steven had seen more than his fair share of gloomy science-fiction movies in his time. This, he decided, was a tell-tale sign. Watching these scavengers, it was clear the shit really was hitting the fan. They grabbed every last one of the tooth cleaning kits, the woman spending an inordinate length of time and effort reaching one which had fallen through a crack in a broken floor tile, and yet the floor was covered in one and two pound coins which they both ignored.
Steven instinctively went to the nearest sink to wash his hands and face, but there was no water. He tried each faucet, managing to get a dribble from a couple of them which he caught in cupped hands and virtually licked dry. When he looked up at the last sink, a sign in a metal frame caught his eye. It read:
These facilities are inspected hourly, please let us know if you find anything that’s not to your complete satisfaction.
Below those words, a table to be completed by the members of staff who’s job it was to clean and maintain the toilets: the date and time and their signature. Steven noticed the checks had become increasingly intermittent over the last week. They’d stopped altogether on Wednesday afternoon.
✽✽✽
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Roy asked when he saw him, appearing on the verge of panic. He’d been leaning against a pillar, watching the small WH Smith store as if he was casing the joint.
‘I was having a shit,’ Steven answered quickly, hoping that would b
e enough detail to shut him up. ‘Found anything?’
‘Haven’t been looking. I was waiting for you.’
Some of the lights were off here, but they could see that most of the shelves in WH Smith were bare. The floor of the store was covered in litter and people, and it was obvious that pretty much anything which could be drunk or eaten already had been. There were three chiller cabinets on the far side of the outlet, completely empty but still lit up. Steven thought about sticking his head in one of them to try and escape the cloying heat, but someone had beaten him to it. In the middle cabinet a toddler was sitting on a bowing metal shelf, legs swinging. His mother was standing next to him, leaning against the chiller, trying to benefit from the slightly cooler air escaping through the open door.
‘Don’t like this,’ Roy mumbled as they walked through the ransacked shop. Steven felt the same. There were more people in here than he’d originally thought. The longer he looked, the more of them he saw, hidden by the low light. Many of them were motionless, exhausted, half-buried in the remains of the things they’d looted. Their eyes followed the two men. The mistrust and unease was palpable. ‘It’s like we’ve walked into the middle of a fucking turf war.’
‘Just keep going,’ Steven said. ‘Staff exit up ahead. Go for that.’
The door – marked Staff Only – was already open, a numeric keypad hanging useless by wires like an eye popped from its socket. Roy sped up and Steven matched his speed, pausing only to snatch a road atlas from a relatively untouched display of books of maps. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used paper maps. He was distracted by the nostalgia for a fraction of a second, until someone moving in the store behind startled him. He disappeared through the door after Roy.
The store room into which they’d escaped was dark, and yet just enough light trickled in from a streetlamp and a broken Burger King sign outside for them to see this place was in as bad a condition as everywhere else. Steven might have looked for a light switch, but the semi-gloom was preferable. Roy was already heading for another open door which led back outside. Steven misjudged his speed and ran into the back of him, then tripped over, landing on his hands and knees. Roy didn’t wait. If anything he sped up, fearing he was about to be jumped. Steven just managed to stop himself from shouting out and felt around for something with which to pull himself back up. He missed a shelf and lunged forward again, his hand ending up in a cardboard box filled with something which felt unimaginably gross. Soft, warm packages. Wait... could it be food? He picked himself up, then scooped up the box as nonchalantly as possible, unsure if anyone was watching. He hobbled through the door, clutching the box to his chest and maintaining his speed.
Chocolate! A two-thirds full box of Mars Bars!
Roy was already back at the car. Relieved to be out of the service station, Steven jogged across the car park and unlocked the car. ‘Look what I got!’ he said excitedly as they both sat down, passing Roy a molten Mars.
‘Let’s celebrate then,’ Roy said, and from under his shirt he produced two bottles of 7-Up.
‘Where did you get them?’
‘Found them while you were messing about in the loo. Trade you a bottle for a few bars of chocolate.’
‘You’re on.’
They exchanged treasure and ate and drank, then lowered their seats and sat back to rest for a short while longer. Steven tried looking at the maps by the extraordinarily bright moonlight tonight, but his eyes were getting heavy. Even over the incessant noise of the traffic on the adjacent motorway – the engines, the horns, the frustration – he managed to drift into an uncomfortable yet relatively deep sleep.
15
SATURDAY 18 OCTOBER
It was light outside when Steven woke. He sat up with a start, assuming the sudden brightness was the heat and light and chaos of another energy pulse, but it wasn’t. It was morning. Damn. He’d only intended to allow himself to doze for a short while, but he’d slept straight through. Roy had his back to him, snoring.
He got out of the car, desperate to escape the heat, but it was no better outside. It was hotter than yesterday, the low morning sun already burning with a savage ferocity. His head was slow to clear, but memories of yesterday’s long drive soon returned and his heart sank at the prospect of having almost as far left to travel today. He hoped the roads would be quieter once they’d made it past Birmingham. He leant inside and shook Roy’s sweaty shoulder. ‘Wake up. Time to get going.’
Roy mumbled something Steven couldn’t make out, then closed his eyes again and rolled onto his back, groaning with effort. Steven picked up the book of maps he’d salvaged last night and opened them out on the roof of the Audi. He found their current location quickly and considered his options, tracing his intended route with his finger: stay on the M6 and follow it through Birmingham, then either carry on or take the M6 toll road up to the M54, whichever’s moving quickest. Then all he had to do was get rid of Roy and head west. It sounded simple, but it clearly wasn’t going to be. Yesterday had been so nightmarish, bordering on surreal, and the thought of having to go through the same ordeal again today was hard to stomach. It was getting past Birmingham which presented the biggest problem. This stretch of motorway was permanently clogged with traffic. It was a difficult journey at the best of times, and these definitely weren’t the best of times.
But it occurred to him there might be an alternative. He could stay south. Rather than go through the city, he could divert west below it, and therefore cut out much of the perceived danger. The longer he stared at the maps, the more sense it seemed to make. In just about every other direction from here but west there were major centres of population. They’d passed the eastern cities of Leicester and Coventry last night. If he carried on north through Birmingham he’d be on the same roads which led to Wolverhampton, Stafford, Nottingham and Stoke-on-Trent, then Manchester, Sheffield, Liverpool and Leeds further still. Other routes to the south-east and south-west led to London, Cardiff and Swansea, but there were no major cities to the west. All he had to do, he decided, was get off the motorway as soon as he could and just keep driving in that direction. A few hours following cross-country roads he’d initially discounted as being too slow but which would inevitably be quieter, and he’d have reached Wales. Then it was just a question of heading north, travelling through relatively isolated places with a fraction of the population of everywhere else.
But what about Roy?
The answer was straightforward, the delivery of it anything but. He took a deep breath and sat back down behind the wheel. ‘Listen, Roy,’ he said. Roy was sucking the liquid chocolate from another Mars Bar.
‘What?’ he said, pausing for breath, his teeth stained brown.
‘There’s been a change of plan.’
‘What are you on about?’
‘I’m going west from here, not north. I reckon I’ve got a better chance of getting to North Wales if I try and duck under Birmingham, not go straight through it.’
He waited for Roy to explode, trying to imagine how he himself would feel. ‘Okay,’ Roy said.
‘Okay? That’s it?’
Roy finished his Mars Bar and threw the wrapper out of the open window. ‘What else am I supposed to say? I didn’t think I’d make it this far, to be fair. Anything else was a bonus.’
‘Jeez, Roy. I feel really bad, but I don’t think I have any option.’
‘I know you don’t. That’s just how things are. These are shitty times, my friend. We’re all having to make choices we don’t like.’
‘No hard feelings?’ Steven asked, stretching out his hand. Roy shook it firmly.
‘None at all.’
Steven slumped back in his seat and relaxed. He opened up the maps again and showed Roy his intentions. ‘I’m going to cut across here, see? I’ll give you a lift as far north as I can, okay?’
‘Okay. Sounds good. How’s it looking out there today, anyway?’
Steven looked around. ‘Haven’t checked, to be honest. I’ve
not been awake long. I’ll go and have a look, then we can get going.’
Roy nodded. Steven acknowledged him again, then got out of the car and listened. He couldn’t hear as much traffic this morning, and that was a positive sign he thought. Intrigued, he walked over to the wide grass verge and hedge which separated the service station from the motorway beyond. He fished his sunglasses from his pocket and pulled on his cap, then climbed through a gap in the brittle hedgerow to get a better view.
Though some traffic continued to move along the wide road in both directions, it was just a fraction of the volume they’d had to contend with yesterday. Why was that, he wondered? Had people actually managed to reach their destinations, or had they simply given up? Probably a combination of both. The road itself was certainly in a far worse state than when the sun had disappeared last night, or maybe it just seemed that way? There was debris everywhere and numerous abandoned cars. Some looked like they’d been parked, others simply left to bake in the heat. Some had doors left hanging open, others had their bonnets popped up. He could see several which had been stranded by blown tyres and other similar problems – relatively minor issues which had become insurmountable hurdles in this harsh and unforgiving environment. How had things got so bad, so quickly, he asked himself? And how bad were they going to get? He knew he had to put such thoughts from his mind and focus all his attention on getting to Criccieth. He turned and climbed back through the hedge.
Fuck.
The car.
Where was it?
