‘I still can’t find Molly or James,’ Harry said. ‘I went to the police station. I even considered going to my parents, but it’s unlikely they went there it’s too far. It just gets worse Sheila, seriously.’ Harry sipped his coffee and picked a few sugar cubes up from the table and waited for the sugar to dissolve before gulping. Sheila reached for the tv remote on the table and turned the tv volume down. It was showing a program on nature and animals.
‘Is Wendy here?’ Sheila sat back and crossed her legs, her skirt lifted revealing her knickers. Harry ignored it.
‘I don’t know where they can be other than the hospital, you said they were going there didn’t you?’ Sheila huffed. ‘Wendy, don’t mention her to me yet.’ Harry tensed his shoulders and sank further into the sofa. He was thinking of all the locations they could be. This was all a wasted journey. He would have been better driving around, but he couldn’t because his car was lodged on the motorway.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked. Sheila shuffled next to him. They both watched the television whilst drinking coffee and talking. Something they were accustomed to.
‘She’s a little annoyed about the car, that’s all, I can’t seem to convince her to buy a bike instead, she always runs.’
‘She’ll get over it,’ Harry replied. ‘Trust me.’ Harry took the remote from Sheila and flicked through the channels until the news came on. Harry placed the cup on the glass.
Images of Buckingham Palace flashed onto the screen before cutting to Westminster, London. A man in a black raincoat stood with police behind him reporting the armies’ deployment to protect her majesty. The news cut back to Buckingham Palace gates. A young female presenter wearing a bullet proof vest over a yellow blouse stood outside the gates. Tanks resided inside Buckingham Palace’s perimeter. Soldiers patrolled the area and a helicopter sat directly behind the reporter. Harry was in awe. This was frightening, everything was changing fast and Harry didn’t like it. The reporter described a very serious threat to national security that was beginning to overwhelm the countries defences.
‘This is why I’m glad I don’t live on the mainland, or the city for that matter,’ Harry commented. His body sank further into the sofa, his palms sweaty. Sheila wept.
‘How bad does this need to get?’ Sheila was crying. ‘They can’t contain the hospital, can they? What happens if they come from overseas?’ Sheila struggled to get her words out.
‘Hold on…’ Harry turned the tv volume up. The camera cut back to Westminster. The man was pale. Behind him the soldiers stood in rows with their rifles to their chests. The camera cut back to Buckingham palace. Red palace guards stood on the roof and marched the grounds. Harry wanted information and fast. If London was falling, the whole country might fall.
“Westminster has issued an international cry for help to the United States and Russian governments for military assistance. It is believed the crisis has originated somewhere in western Europe and prime minister Carl Longwood states the crisis may have completely overwhelmed Europe. The United Kingdom is still fighting, and the prime minister has issued emergency warnings to all citizens, stay away and inside from the threat.”
‘What the fuck,’ Sheila said. Harry could not believe it.
‘It’s more than a threat. It’s a plague of psycho’s and monsters is what it is, if the governments can’t contain it, nobody can,’ he replied. ‘I’ve got to find my family. Please tell Molly and James to come home if you see them.’
‘Harry, look at the front door I’m not going out,’ Sheila said. ‘When this thing gets worse, I’ll be safe inside.’ Harry could see the fear on Sheila’s face.
‘Please, if you see them out of the window in the park or anywhere, try to shout them in at least.’
‘Okay, but I’m not risking going out,’ Sheila replied. ‘I don’t fancy getting attacked again.’
Harry smiled and stood and walked to the blocked front door. He struggled to slide the bookshelves out of the way. Sheila continued to sip her coffee and watch the news. She didn’t offer Harry a biscuit this time. They had to ration now, with Britain falling the commodities wouldn’t be imported to Beach Town. Harry wondered if people would forget about them.
***
Harry had to walk back past main street to get home. The post office strikers had gone.
Harry walked slowly past the supermarket; a large crowd had gathered outside. The talking was like a seashore wave. Men and women complained to each other. Scared kids held each other’s hands whilst their parents chanted for food. Three officers stood at the supermarket entrance attempting to calm people. Harry walked towards the police station. Three officers now stood at the station entrance. At the town hall building to the right of the police station, two swat officers stood guard. Thing had changed. The security was increased. Harry feared it was too late. The disease would spread. The diseased would travel and kill everybody unless they could escape, he was sure.
Harry turned back to the crowd outside the supermarket. One man caught Harry’s eye. He recognised the short black hair. Harry jogged back over, keen to dig deeper.
‘Jamie?’ Harry asked the man, patting his shoulder. The man turned; it was Jamie.
‘Harry, nice to see you again,’ Jamie said. ‘This is the hospital that’s triggered all this, guarantee it.’ Jamie put Harry at ease, it was nice to speak to another survivor. The hospital had formed an invisible bond between them. But Jamie seemed to be unaware of the bigger picture, London was falling, it wasn’t just the hospital that was responsible. Harry had an unobstructed view of the supermarket doors.
‘What’s this for?’ he asked Jamie. Jamie cupped his ear with his hand. ‘What happened? Is it open?’ Harry shouted. Jamie nodded folding his arms. Jamie leant closer to Harry.
‘Yeah, we’re waiting for our rations,’ Jamie shouted. ‘New curfew rules by the town hall. Apparently, there are enough food boxes for everyone, although I can’t see those arriving tomorrow getting the same things.’ Jamie grinned. The bickering got quieter.
‘I haven’t heard about this, when did it happen?’ Harry asked. Jamie shook his head.
‘Just half hour ago, the radio announced it.’ Jamie lifted his sleeve and checked his watch.
‘How long until they let them in?’ Harry asked.
‘Not sure, they said we could get our stuff ten minutes ago,’ Jamie replied. Harry patted Jamie’s shoulder and walked back towards the police station. The crowd were pale, worn out and fearful.
He had to go to the town hall to find out about evacuations. Harry stopped his stroll as chorused shouts rattled his ears. He turned to look at the crowd. Men had grappled the officers and were attacking them. The crowd shunted the supermarket doors and booted the glass. The glass cracked scaring a flock of birds from the supermarket roof. Harry watched as five officers came running from behind the police station.
‘Stop now, we have orders to shoot, one officer shouted. They equipped their pistols. Harry ran to the alley at the side of the town hall. The men continued to smash through the doors, and they swung open in pieces. The mob of ranting people stormed through.
‘Stop, take your children to safety if you want them to live,’ another officer shouted and fired a gunshot in the air. People trampled over each other. The angry town goers forced themselves through the doors, trampling over broken window glass.
Women picked up their children, holding them to their chests and moving to safety. A bloody faced man got up from the stampede and limped towards the bar, where pub goers were watching from the Victorian windows. The officer fired another two shots in the air. Another officer shot a man running out of the supermarket with a bag of unpaid goods. The bullet impacted his chest sending to him to the concrete. He dropped the bag, fruit and tins rolled onto the pavement. The police moved into the supermarket where the crowd were looting. A few people lay in the doorway crying in pain from being stood on.
One policeman came back outside and used his radio. Then the other p
olice joined him. Harry ducked down, afraid of the consequences of the death of the man. The police stood in a row aiming their pistols into the supermarket. One officer fired another shot into the air. Harry watched as people began to run towards the supermarket doors. The police opened fire, spraying the crowd with bullets, it was a massacre.
CHAPTER 14
Brutus The Mutant
Charlie awoke in a strange room on a bed of thin sheets. He could see through some iron bars. An officer sat reading an outdated newspaper with a picture of the town hall on the front page.
Charlie’s hands, feet, face, bones and ligature were aching. Not fatigued, but sorely exhausted. The last he remembers is talking, voices that hadn’t previously made sense, but those voices had returned, it might have been his cell mates sharing the lower floor of the station with him. He wriggled but it was too difficult to get out of bed. All he could do was flick his eyes. He tried speaking but only mumbled sounds came out.
Beating down was a brilliant white light. Needles migrated through his pupils. The cell walls blurred and clouded. Charlie held a hand over his eyes. All fathomable energy was spent, he believed he was dead. The officer placed his newspaper on the floor and approached the cell bars. Charlie heard the radio bleep and fizzle. Time distorted. Charlie could feel a pin prick on his left arm like a bee sting. He shut his eyes. His chest tightened at the sounds of gunshots. The guard panicked and Charlie opened his eyes. The officer entered the single elevator. Any hope of Charlie getting answers was gone.
‘You awake?’ a deep voiced man called, tapping a pot or can on the bars of his cell. Charlie could not tolerate the rattling; nor could he shout a reply, his lungs rippled with tension.
‘Yes,’ Charlie said. It felt like an iron blanket was placed on his head and face. All he wanted to do was sleep. More gunshots came from above the stone cellar. Charlie looked at the needle prickling his skin. Whatever it was pumping was making him feel woozy. He hadn’t the energy to take the needle out yet, so he tried to kick his leg.
‘Charlie it’s Peter, what happened to you the other day?’ Peter clung to the bars; Charlie could hear the rasp of his knuckles against the iron. Charlie heard the faint whispers. Charlie sensed the drug euphoria fade and elation left him. Peter’s voice made him tighten his jaw; he felt betrayed.
‘You been to the motel?’ Charlie asked trying to lift his IV arm to rip the needle out, but his arm flopped lifelessly onto the bed. Charlie heard Peter slip away from the bars and begin to pace.
‘Yeah, err no,’ Peter trembled. ‘I kind of let everyone else deal with it, you know?’ Charlie could feel a fire rising in his stomach. Peter had deserted him.
‘Anyone coming for us?’ Charlie said. Anger fuelled his mouth. An invisible scorpion stung his muscles into action. Charlie reached for the needle and tore it out. He was lightheaded and thumbed over the injection site. The stone walls swayed and the ground shook as he pulled himself onto the edge of the bed. Silver specks dotted his sight and shimmied out of sight. His body rocked as if on a carousel.
‘Yeah, I told them anything happens to us, come get us, that was when I got my free call. The police aren’t too happy with you though, I heard them talking and they said you have to submit to blood tests once you wake up, they been sedating you since you got here, after the blood transfusion that is.’ Charlie heard Peter jump on his squeaking bed.
‘No chance, we’re getting out,’ Charlie said. ‘And we’re gonna clean the mess at the motel.’ Charlie stood up.
The floor was stained in dust. The walls decaying and cracked. A mirror sat above a sink that was rancid with blood.
Charlie stumbled towards the cell bars and grasped them. He looked at his arm. It was a mess. Plasters were half pulled off the left arm. He tore the plasters off, they stung as it ripped hairs out. He tossed the plaster to the guard’s drink next to the chair. ‘Enjoy that.’
‘What we gonna do?’ Peter asked. Charlie didn’t have a plan yet. The grooves of Charlie’s brain were lacerated with endorphins. His hands shook in sweat.
‘I’m not staying. You should have stayed at the hospital. That place is gonna be the end of this town, full of monsters.’
‘Yeah. I saw them on the news the night I got brought in, something about the fall of Britain. You can’t take it too seriously, can you?’
‘Peter, if you had had the guts to stay at the hospital, you would see this isn’t worth shaking off.’ The elevator beeped and the doors opened. Charlie’s eyes darted at the officer who stepped out. He carried a steaming cup in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. The officer glared at Charlie.
‘You need that medicine, why did you take it off? If you’re that keen, we’ll take you to quarantine now.’ The officer stood out of reach. Charlie’s ribs hurting on the bars.
‘I can’t hear you,’ Charlie replied. The officer stepped towards the bars.
‘I said…’ The officer didn’t have time to finish, Charlie reached his right hook through the bars and wrapped it around the officer’s neck, he dropped the coffee on himself, Charlie muffled the scream with his other hand. The panicked officer reached for his gun, but Charlie gripped tighter then cracked the officer’s neck sideways. His neck snapped instantly, and the officer rag dolled to the coffee covered floor. He had his hand on his pistol with his head cocked to the left.
Charlie bent down and pulled the officer’s body closer. He grabbed the keys out the policeman’s trouser pocket.
Charlie keyed the cell bars open and stepped out. Stepping over the officer and walking right, passing an empty cell before reaching Peter’s. Peter was alone just as Charlie wanted him.
‘We’ll bring a whole lot of shit to this precinct after, I’m right with you,’ Peter said clutching the holding cell bars. Charlie turned from Peter and walked back towards the elevator.
‘Fuck you Peter, you are a backstabbing chicken.’ Charlie thumbed the elevator and the doors opened. Peter mumbled.
‘Fuck you for leaving me here, I’ll fucking tell them about the motel, you knock up whores,’ Peter shouted.
The words pierced Charlie. Charlie walked back to Peter’s cell. It was time to cut Peter loose.
‘Nobody is saying anything about the motel.’ Charlie reached through the cell bars and grabbed Peter’s hands and pulled him towards him. Charlie was in a daze from the sedative. Charlie pulled Peter’s arms harder and held the officer’s keys above Peter’s head.
Charlie keyed Peter in the right eye and it popped. Blood poured onto Peter’s jacket and he screamed and thrashed as if he was a fish. Charlie twisted the key; Peter kicked his body about crying out.
Charlie yanked the key out. Holding Peter’s arm, he put his foot on the bars for momentum and pulled hard. A hollow pop sounded, and Peter’s arm went limp. Charlie released Peter who slumped against the bars in a pool of blood.
Charlie walked back to the elevator whistling. Charlie waved goodbye but Peter had lost consciousness. Charlie pocketed the bloody keys. More gunshots sounded overhead. Charlie stepped into the elevator.
***
Amidst the supermarket chaos Harry hadn’t seen Charlie leave the police station. The officers hadn’t either. The receptionist was too busy shuffling papers and the police were occupied with the supermarket.
Harry could see through the row of officers that at least twenty people were shot. People lay injured and bleeding to death. Blood spurted from a man’s neck and a woman lay bleeding from her thigh. Four people were dead, and the kill count was rising to seven once the other victims bled out.
Harry crouched back into the alley. Flies and unmoved trash bags lay untended. Shoppers began to surrender. The shoppers with brains. The looting continued.
The officers moved into the store again. They reloaded their pistols. Harry heard gunshots followed by screams. A barrage of bangs and snaps filled the street. Food was being thrown around; meat tossed towards the exit.
Those who surrendered gathered around the bl
eeding victims. They were bleeding to death. It had been shoot to kill orders. Not shoot to wound or deter.
Harry crept further down the alleyway; the red stone walls became tighter. Sunlight was being blocked. Harry crouched to the rear of the town hall carpark. Harry saw the white tent in the police station car park. Harry stood oblivious and realised he was stood in a car park filled with body bags. It was a betraying sight.
‘Oh no,’ he gasped. His breath was shallow. Harry clenched his shaking fists. The carpark was devoid of cars. The black body bags were around six-foot long. Harry needn’t count, there was over thirty at a glance.
The gunshots stopped. He heard officer’s barking orders and looters begging for mercy.
The bags were laid in rows with tags with names written on them. Harry looked at the closest tag. It was blank.
A rustling caught him off-guard, a squeaking and shuffling. Harry froze, one of the black bags was moving. Harry walked over to the bag out of fear. As he got closer, he heard groaning. Then the other body bags began to rustle. The deceased were back. Harry watched the mass of body bags twitch and shake.
Harry knelt next to an unmoving bag; the tag was blank. It was possible his family were here, but something told him they weren’t.
Police were approaching, their heavy-footed belt clinking alerted him, radio static filled the air agitating the corpses more. Harry dived behind a dumpster. The police emerged from the alleyway. Both stood in awe.
‘Look at this, their moving,’ one officer said. The other officer bent down next to one of the body bags and then kicked it. It didn’t move like the other bags.
Beach Town: Apocalypse Page 10
