WINTER SMITH: LONDON’S BURNING
J. S. STRANGE
The first instalment
First published in Great Britain in 2015
Copyright © 2015 Jack Strange
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the author, nor be circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
www.brotherhipster.co.uk
To James, never get bitten by a zombie,
because I love you
Chapter One
You’d be forgiven for thinking nothing had changed. Especially when you had spent two months locked away in a cramped submarine, miles under the ocean, the only human contact being your crew. Many of which had begun to lose all sense of their selves.
They were government workers. Rookies, all with just a couple of months experience under their belts. They were incredibly young, excitable and naive. They’d been sent on an expedition to explore islands in the North Atlantic Ocean. Nobody knew why.
However, now they were following a signal, and excitement had filled the metal container. They were about to come up to land.
"I'm telling you mate, when we get back there the first thing I will do is buy a Big Mac,” Stephen, a twenty three year old junior lieutenant said.
"Don't," Commander Harold said. "They're bad for you, them."
"That's all I've been thinking about since we went under," Stacey sighed.
"God, you miss the little things, don't you?" Samuel remarked.
Ten out of the seventy-three crewmembers were gathered in the narrow metal hall. There were only three women, outnumbered by men. They had all finished working a six-hour shift, and were now taking a well-earned break.
"What's on the menu tonight, Stace?" Stephen snickered. "Shouldn't you be in the kitchen whipping up a shit meal?"
"Original," Stacey said. Another woman, Martha, looked offended.
Stephen fussed with his small bunker bed, adjusting a lone white pillow.
"How long have we been under now?" Another member Daniel asked.
"Three months," Stacey said with some hesitation. Her round eyes conveyed what they all felt. Three months was long enough.
"Flies by, dunnit?" Stephen said.
"Does anyone want a cuppa?" Martha asked. Her authority silenced the room. Being a commander had its benefits.
"Oh, I will,” Daniel said. "I'll come help you."
Daniel escorted Martha down the hallway, with words of anticipation for a ‘tasty brew’ echoing back to those left behind. Stephen leant out of his room, one eyebrow raised.
"They're totally doing it."
"I hope they're using protection,” Stacey said. "Her career would be ruined if she got knocked up."
"Stace!" Harold gasped.
Stacey grinned. "Ah, get over it. You're a man, you know what they do."
Harold let out a loud bark of laughter.
"Fancy a game of cards?" Samuel asked.
"You know what, that's a brilliant idea."
They all turned to head in the opposite direction of Daniel and Martha. Stacey, stood at the end of the hallway, had no choice but to turn around and lead the way. Stephen nudged Samuel and nodded at her swaying backside. The universal man sign.
They turned into a dimly lit room, a claustrophobic nightmare, with a small wooden table in the middle. Two narrow and uncomfortable benches sat on either side. Above the table, shelves were stacked high with books, magazines and games, all piled on top of one another.
Stacey found the cards and dropped them on the table. "Go fish or the classic snap?" She took the cards out of a worn packet.
"Better not play poker around a woman," Stephen laughed. "Let's play a sissy game like snap."
"Hello?" Martha called from the hall.
"In here!” Stacey said, shuffling the cards.
Martha and Daniel walked into the room. Martha held a mug with the smell of coffee following her, while Daniel had decided on water instead of that ‘tasty brew’.
As the game began, the room filled with childish tension. The gathered crew sat forwards, drawing a card when it was their turn and leaving their hand on top of the pile a little longer than necessary.
“Do it for the girls, Stace,” Martha urged, watching the game with enthusiasm.
“Do it for the boys, boys,” Daniel said, attracting a look from Martha.
One card was drawn, two cards, three cards…
“SNAP!” Stacey slapped her hand onto the pile of cards. Stephen’s hand fell on hers, and Samuel flinched, knocking a pile of magazines off the shelf.
Stephen and Stacey looked at their hands touching, then at each other, before Stephen drew away. He cleared his throat, looking at anyone but Stacey.
“And that, boys, is why girls will always rule the world.” Martha grinned. She high-fived Stacey.
Just then, an officer appeared at the door. He looked older than Stephen, but he didn’t look like he had reached his thirties just yet.
“Captain said you’re going up.”
“What?” Stacey gasped. “We’re here?”
“We’ll be ready to get on land in ten minutes.” The officer spoke. “Get your uniforms on and meet me at the door in five minutes.”
As the officer walked away, Harold rolled his eyes.
Stacey reluctantly gathered up the pile of cards. She looked sad that her winning streak, as well as their rest time, had been cut short so suddenly. Stephen was rolling his tongue, looking relatively annoyed that he had been pulled off break so soon.
They drifted back into the hallway, skulking off into their sleeping quarters, some of them muttering.
“At least we’re going to breathe fresh air again,” Martha said from her room.
Stacey leant against Stephen’s doorway. She had a slight smile on her face.
“Cheer up, Stevie,” she said, ignoring the scowl thrown her way. “We’re going to breathe some fresh air!”
Stephen breathed in. He knew Stacey was imitating Martha for his benefit, but he wasn’t in the mood for jokes.
“It’s like they’re teasing us, ain’t it?” He said, loud enough for the whole hallway to hear. A few people grunted back.
“Sure, we’re not seeing our families, Stephen,” Daniel said, appearing at the doorway, pulling on a navy fleece. “But we’re seeing land. Hell, we’re walking on land! I don’t know about you, young boy, but I’ve fucking missed solid ground.”
“They better let us call our family before coming back in here,” Stephen muttered, standing up. “They can’t force us back under without some perk!”
As the rest of the people busied themselves, Stephen leant against the wall. Stacey slunk up towards him, brushing a strand of loose yellow hair away from her face.
“What’s up?”
“I don’t know,” Stephen said. “I should be really happy I’m gonna see land, but I’m not.”
Before Stacey could answer, the officer returned.
“Give us a chance, mate,” Daniel said.
“Follow me.”
He led them away from their beds, down narrow hallways that seemed to close in on them. They walked single file, the men ducking to avoid hitting their heads, th
e women striding with confidence. They passed other crew members they knew only by sight, nodding at them as they passed.
They stopped by a set of metal grids serving as steps, a health hazard if there ever was one. The officer said nothing, but stood at the bottom looking important.
The team of ten, who were supposed to be on break, stood huddled together.
As the door at the top of the stairs opened, Stephen and everyone else felt their hearts skip at the smell of fresh sea air. Every nearby eye turned to glimpse the dark sky above, twinkling with stars. The sound of sea hitting rocks drifted into the metal container.
Stacey gripped Stephen’s arm. “Brilliant!”
The officer stood back as another similarly dressed government officer stood out in the fresh air signaled for the team to come up. Daniel led the way, barely containing his enthusiasm. As they climbed the metal steps, their heavy boots echoing off metal, Stephen’s worry was replaced by the need to be out. Suddenly, all the claustrophobia he had managed to suppress came falling down on him, and he urged to breathe in the fresh air.
The sight of land was fulfilling, especially because they had found themselves on a beautiful exotic island. A small clearing of cracked land was where Stephen and the other nine team members were led. They stood just a few feet away from a cluster of trees; thin on the outside but a black mass of density the further away it went. A warm breeze played over their skin, and Stephen wondered where they were. He thought he spotted a wreckage of a ship just around the corner, but couldn’t quite make it out.
There was no time to take in anymore of the surroundings. Instead, a commanding officer drew their attention to a heap lying on the floor. This heap was moving, wrapped up in black shawls, and crying. It was hard to make out if the heap was a male or female, the darkness preventing any light from being cast on it.
It breathed in, ragged, short, and painful.
“What is that?” Stacey breathed. The nerves in her voice were evident. Stephen tried to appear calm.
He eyed the heap on the floor, unsure why they had been brought here.
“What’s the significance in this?” Daniel asked. “Who is she?”
She? Stephen eyed the heap again, thought he could make out black tattered hair.
He could feel Martha shaking next to him. He thought it might be because her body was shocked at having to adjust to the open air after so long inside. But the air was warm.
The crash of ocean behind them made Stephen jump with apprehension. A ripple effect went down the line.
“Approach,” an officer ordered Harold.
Harold, the professional, did as he was told. He didn’t look remotely scared, but his body was tense. He was an ageing man, with the objective of retiring having this last stint at sea. He had a family at home, two daughters, a son and a wife he had been happily married to for twenty years.
Something wasn’t right.
Harold was now only a few feet away from the heap. She, if in fact she was a woman, didn’t acknowledge him. She just shook, sobbed, breathed. Stephen heard someone whisper back on the submarine, but couldn’t quite make out what was said.
Harold crouched down. All eyes were on him and the trembling heap.
“Ma’am?” His voice was formal, with a hint of pity. “Ma’am, are you alright?”
“Where’s the person who signaled us?” Stacey asked, her panic starting to surface. “Who signaled us?”
“I don’t see any buildings,” Martha remarked. She was the only one not looking at Harold.
Harold moved a little closer. He reached out a hand.
“Ma’am?”
The woman let out a scream that chilled the bone of those watching. She snapped her head up and looked at Harold.
Harold froze, and Stephen only just saw what happened through the darkness.
The woman pulled his arm, biting into his skin and drawing blood. Harold pushed the woman away, cursing.
“Fucking bitch,” he gasped, jumping up and stumbling away from the woman. “Bitch bit me!”
The woman sat up slowly. Her black, tangled hair fell around her face. With a shaking hand, she pushed it away.
Her skin seemed to be tightening, cracking away at the bones. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her skin was scarred with purple, pulsing and prominent veins. She looked at the team before her, all of them frozen, all of them trying to ignore their beating hearts.
“Get off this island,” she pleaded. “Please, before it’s too late. Get off this island.”
Harold, still cursing, began to back away. The others awaited the order from the officers.
“GET OFF THIS ISLAND!”
They ran across the cracked land, paddling through the sea and jumping back towards the submarine. They fought to get into the submarine first, panicked, expecting the woman to chase them.
Her echoing screams broke through the night’s calm atmosphere. Stephen turned back to see her rolling on the ground, alone now.
“Get in, lieutenant,” another officer ordered.
“Stephen!” Stacey called from inside.
Stephen tore his eyes away from the island and clambered down into the submarine, his heart pounding.
The door slammed shut behind him, the submarine began to pressurise and move.
“What the fuck?” Stephen shouted.
“What was that about?” Stacey asked, to no one in particular. “What the hell just happened?”
The officers who had been on shore with them rushed past. They were reporting something to different people, whispering in quick voices.
“Get back to your beds,” an officer said to the team. He looked at Harold’s wound. “Someone will come to see you about that.”
The blood was dripping from Harold’s hand onto the floor. It looked vicious. Stephen wondered how a human could do such damage.
Daniel led them down the hallway, back to their beds, rushing this time, adrenalin pumping.
Stephen’s knees were weak.
They were back in their hallway, one that had only recently been busy, familiar and happy. Now it was unrecognisable, like the woman and island they had just fled from.
“Harold, are you alright?” Stacey asked, sitting Harold down in the games room. People were gathering near the hallway now, trying to get a view of what had happened on land.
“No,” Harold breathed. “I feel sick.”
“Get him a bucket!” Daniel bellowed. “Get this man a bucket!”
The gathered people scattered as Martha ran through, trying to find a bucket before Harold threw up.
Stephen watched Harold. His colour had completely drained. He was shaking. His eyes flickered.
“Something hurts,” Harold gasped. “Something is hurting me!”
Harold screamed. He clutched at his stomach, hunched over the bed.
“This man needs help, here!” Daniel boomed. “Where’s the fucking doctor?”
“Oh my god,” Stephen breathed, moving away from the door. “He was fine. It was just a bite! He shouldn’t be getting like that.”
Harold shook. He retched, the blood on his hand spurting.
Bangs and thuds echoed from all directions, multiplied by the metal container they were locked in. Some people were coming to view the commotion while others knew they needed to get help.
Harold made a sound that was terrifying; screeching, so loudly that it didn’t sound human. His body convulsed, his skin decayed before their very eyes. Stacey, who was stuck in the confined room with Harold, stepped back until she was leant against the wall.
“Stacey!” Stephen tried to call, but his fear seemed to render him mute. She didn’t turn to look at him. She only had eyes for the man in front of her.
Harold jumped up onto the bed so quickly people screamed. His skin had shrunken back into his face, revealing purple blood vessels and bones. His eyes were bloodshot, his teeth bared.
He tackled Stacey, ripping a chunk from her neck. Blood poured, screams began to echo.
<
br /> People tried to move, but they were vacuumed packed in tight quarters, like cattle ready for slaughter.
Harold leapt at Samuel, pinning him to the ground, biting him and drawing blood. He leapt at another man seconds later, who tried to escape but hit his head against the wall. Stephen barged past the people next to him, but not before he got a glimpse of Stacey. Her skin had decayed, her eyes had become bloodshot, and she was now running at the nearest human. In seconds, she had changed.
“Stephen!” Someone called. “What the- Stephen!”
Daniel and Martha were battling through the crowds, some of them human, others quickly turning into what Harold, Samuel and Stacey had become.
“Tell them to get back to land!” Stephen shouted at anyone that would listen. “Tell them to get back on the fucking land!”
The container was now full of hisses and screams. People’s bodies echoed off the walls as they were pushed to the ground, attacked, killed.
Every bite seemed to change something in people. Every bite was lethal. Stephen had to avoid being bitten.
Stephen could see Martha, struggling to fight through two government guards who were caught on something. He wouldn’t let more of his friends die.
Stephen grabbed Martha’s hand, and propelled her through the crowd towards him. Stephen could see she had a stern grip on Daniel.
“Martha, wait!” Daniel screamed. “Martha, no!”
Stephen turned around. A decaying monster rose through the crowd, bony hands seized Daniel’s neck, blood gushed from the bite.
“Daniel!” Martha screamed.
Stephen knew it was too late. If they waited any longer, they would be dead themselves. He tugged Martha, hard enough so she lost grip of Daniel who screamed for her to turn back for him.
Martha fell into Stephen’s arms, sobbing, covered in blood but no apparent wound.
As Stephen barged through the crowds, his feet slipped on blood. His heart flipped every time he thought he’d fall. He wished he could block out the screams of carnage.
Stephen was pushed to one side. His head struck a metal valve and for a moment he swayed on the spot, suddenly dazed.
Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning Page 1
