“Come on, Winter,” Amanda said, grabbing Winter’s arm and pulling her closer. Perkins was now gearing up for the next line. “Let’s loosen up! Let’s have some fun!”
“You can have fun without cocaine, guys,” Winter said, trying to fight against Amanda’s grip.
“You never have fun!” Missy laughed. “You’re such a downer. Ever since what happened when you were fourteen, you just went weird. I thought you were fun until then. I mean, get over it, Winter. It happened three years ago!”
Winter tried to ignore Missy’s words. She tried to ignore the people around her laughing and cackling, all drunk and drugged.
The gates down on the lane swung open. Winter took this as her opportunity to go down and see if Connor had arrived.
“Listen, I’ve got to go and meet someone,” Winter said, and she quickly moved away before anyone could grab her. “I’ll be back later.”
As Winter climbed down the wooden steps, she glanced at the lane that was in clear view. Her heart stopped in time with her feet. Her eyes widened, as if they were trying to take in what was in front of her. The people on the balcony, and Missy and her friends on the decking, had all noticed the same thing.
“What the fuck?” Missy gasped.
The lane was full of running figures. Their speed was not human. Their arms flailed around them, their heads tipped back, mouths gaping open. The sounds of hissing and screeching accompanied them. They were cast in dark shadows, their bodies illuminating every time they passed a dull yellow light from one of the lampposts, casting tall silhouettes on the bushes in the lane.
Winter heard gunshots coming from somewhere up the lane. She looked up and saw a man in his sixties stood on his balcony, a sniper rifle clutched in his hand. Someone outside her house, leaving the party early, unaware of what was happening behind the gate, pressed the button to open them. The gates began to slide open, just as a boy vaulted over the fence.
Connor.
Screams from people outside began to drown out the thumping music as they took in the beings. There were too many to count, but enough for more than a handful to pour into Winter’s grounds, and others to leap over into other properties and continue their climb up the lane. The shots from the sniper rifle added to the screams of chaos around them. Before their very eyes, one of the beings grabbed a nearby woman and tore her to pieces.
Winter ran, unable to think clearly because her mind was in overdrive. The conversation from the cameraman and the boom operator earlier had given Winter cause to be suspicious. The massacres in China, the attack in Miami, the survival items going out of stock like never before, it was all there. It had always been there. But people had chosen to ignore them, believing it all to just be hearsay and media hype.
People poured out onto the balcony and Winter barged past them. She drew out her phone with the intention of calling her parents. She had only one thought on her mind. She could hear somebody calling her name. Missy, probably, who was so drunk and drugged she wouldn’t have a chance of surviving tonight.
Winter pushed into the stairway, the party still in flow, people unaware of the disruption a few feet away. She stood on a discarded bottle and tipped forwards, rolling down the stairs, hitting people over as she fell. Her phone fell out of her hand, sliding across the floor.
She had landed on the new floor her parents had installed. It was wet with alcohol and blood from her arm, which she had cut on shards of glass. She heard people scream, this time it seemed to go around the room in a wave. The music was turned down, and when the sounds of glass smashing, people crying and panic arose the music was turned off completely. Winter got onto her knees, she saw the DJ take his headphones off and leave his booth.
Winter got up, ran across the dance floor, not sure who was an enemy and who needed help.
She slipped on spilt drink but managed to keep her balance. A table to the left of her flipped over, and Winter turned in time to see these beings launch themselves over it. Winter got a good look at them as one of the revolving lights caught it in mid-jump.
Its clothes were that of designer; a posh elaborate dress with satin woven designs on black material, but it was now ripped and flecked with blood. The skin was decaying, shrunken, peeling away to reveal bone and fleshy muscle. The colour of the skin was green and purple, blood vessels popped and internally bleeding. Their eyes were sunken in to their heads so all that was left were white blank eyes and sockets. Their mouths hung open, and Winter saw that some of the flesh from the cheek was beginning to break apart, revealing the inside of the jaw and bones. Their bony arms were outstretched, their eyes fixed on the living.
Winter’s heart skipped as somebody grabbed her, dragging her away from the beings in the air.
She was pulled back towards the stairway, which was clogged. The beings launched at the living like excited animals. It was a bloodbath. Winter watched as these beings bit the people on the stairs, drawing blood, bursting arteries. The beings pushed the people on the stairs to the floor, where they continued to bite before moving on to someone else. Winter watched the people recently bitten, left on the floor in a pool of their own blood, dying.
Their skin began decaying before her very eyes. Their eyes sunk into their heads, their bone becoming visible. More blood vessels seem to become pressurised and burst, blood falling onto the floor around them. In no time at all, the bitten person stood up and began to attack the nearest living person next to them; a child no older than eight.
A hand gripped her arm, a cold, tight grip. Winter turned to see who it was, fearing it was one of the decaying. She hoped it might be her parents, or maybe Missy, but it was Connor.
“What the hell is going on?” She screamed. She was relieved to see him.
Connor didn’t reply. He kept hold of her and they changed direction, leaving the dance floor room that was now covered in blood and trickling out into the hallway.
Crouched on the floor over the recently bitten were these beings, ripping at human flesh. Winter screamed as some internal organ came flying her way. All around her people were decaying then sitting up, their humanity gone and replaced with only one thought: to kill.
Connor tried pulling her through the front door, but there were too many people trying to get out, screaming, getting stuck. Winter heard a commotion behind her and turned to see people being thrown down the stairs, attacked by the new uninvited guests.
An up turned table to the side of them caught Winter’s eye. The legs were partly broken, revealing sharp metal points. Winter gripped hold of Connor and freed herself of his grip. He screamed at her to stay where she was but she took a risk and wedged two of the legs off the table. Both had points on the end that looked like they could spear through anything. She threw one to Connor, who caught it before grabbing her hand once more.
Winter then spotted a stone near the doorway, kicked in from the commotion outside. The hisses of the beings around them were filling Winter’s ears, blocking out her thoughts, but survival had kicked in. She bent down, scooped up the cold rough stone, which felt weighty in her hand and threw it at the window, which shattered into pieces before her. At the noise, people began to hurry in that direction, but Winter was quicker.
She dragged Connor and they leapt through the broken window, landing on grass and stumbling. Connor flipped over and for a moment Winter thought something bad had happened as he didn’t move. As she hurried towards him, he sat up, picking up the broken leg from the table Winter had handed him.
“Connor!” She screamed.
Connor turned in time to see one of the bloody beings, its mouth dripping blood, leap off the wall ready to pounce on it’s next victim. Connor swung the table leg and caught the being straight through the head. It let out one last screech before hanging limp on the end of the weapon.
There was no time to get it out. There was another smash from the window above them and people fell out right in front of them, the dead on top of them, biting their flesh.
Wint
er grabbed Connor and they hurried towards the gates, jammed with bodies.
Just then, an almighty wind began sweeping around them. Winter’s hair was whipped around her face so her vision was obscured, leaving her vulnerable. Her dress, which was now ripped and bloody, began billowing. Connor gripped tighter and she ignored the pain, hoping she wouldn’t lose him. The sounds of bullets being fired filled the air, drowning out the hisses and screams from the commotion around them. She feared they would be shot. Winter looked up to see green helicopters hanging in the air, firing at the monsters that had ruined the party. A flash from a camera nearby caught Winter’s attention. Somebody was photographing everything. She felt sick. Who would be thinking about such a thing when this was happening?
The helicopters swung around in the air and Winter saw people she recognised on board. She suddenly realised what these were for.
“Come on,” she called to Connor. “We need to get on that!”
Winter and Connor changed their direction, Winter keeping hold of the table leg in her hand. She followed the helicopter around the side of her house, until she was below the balcony.
People were gathered, looking up at the helicopter, and Winter began to approach, ignoring the pull from Connor behind her.
She dragged him forwards with all of her strength, thinking only of getting to safety.
She looked up and saw people hopping across from the balcony to the helicopter, which was suspended in the air, ‘NWO’ painted on the sides of the metal. People in army suits were helping people across, ushering them forwards.
“Help!” Winter screamed, jumping up and down to try and get the attention of the people above.
“Winter!” Connor called, but she ignored him. The people gathered at the balcony turned to look at her.
“Help us, down here!”
From above, there was the sound of smashing glass. Winter, along with the gathered people in front of her, all turned to see what had happened. The manic beings had smashed through the railings, their rotting arms gripping tightly to their next victims. Winter turned back to the people in front of her to see them pounce on the living. Her heart dropped and her knees buckled. She stepped backwards slowly; aware she had misjudged the situation. The people in front of her were the decaying, drawn to the scene by the noise of the helicopter.
Any living humans who fell quickly got to their feet and began to run as fast as they could, hoping they would survive and get out of this alive.
“Winter, we need to go!”
The beings began leaping from the balcony and trying to grab onto the helicopter. Those that missed joined the killing spree below. Those that got a hold were beginning to tip the helicopter down. As Winter watched, three other helicopters began circling her place. She turned around to face Connor, and as she did she took in the other houses on the lane, helicopters circling them, the night alive with lights, screams, bullets and blood.
Connor grabbed Winter and pulled her down the grassy bank. They stumbled, neither of them caring if they fell, both of them intent on putting distance between them and Winter’s ruined home.
“My parents!” Winter cried as they stumbled away from the house. “I need to save my parents!”
“It’s too late, Winter!” Connor cried, pulling her away.
Winter began to cry. She hadn’t even thought about her parents, only getting to Connor. She should have found them and she should have helped them. She tried remembering if she had seen them. She tried to remember if she had seen any of those beings that resembled them. She couldn’t think the worst. She had to believe they had escaped.
Connor tripped and pulled Winter to the ground. They rolled across the floor, Winter gripping hold of the table leg, unaware that it was cutting into her palm. They landed in a heap at the bottom of the hill, in the bushes that were just a few feet away from the gates and the killing beings. It was like they had been dead for years.
Winter sat up and heard Connor groan like the same beings walking up and down the lane, looking for victims. It was quieter down here, but Winter thought that was probably because anybody who had tried to escape this way was probably dead. She couldn’t see that much blood, but she could smell the death.
She turned to Connor and saw that the table leg she had been holding was stuck in his shoulder. Connor sat up, his head bleeding. He moaned at the pain, and Winter glanced back towards the lane. She realised the beings were listening to Connor’s moan, trying to work out where it was coming from.
Winter placed a finger to his lips. He looked at her and she nodded towards the lane. He turned and saw what she saw and his face filled with fear. Tears began to roll down his eyes. He was hopeless and scared.
Refusing to be undeterred, Winter pressed her finger against his lips harder, warning him they needed to be quiet.
“Don’t make any sound,” she whispered. “I have to take this out, otherwise you’re going to cut something bad. It doesn’t look like it’s in too deep.”
“It’s just pierced the skin.” Connor nodded.
“Don’t scream.”
And Winter pulled the leg table out of Connor’s shoulder. He screamed and the sounds of the beings from the lane became louder. They began hissing and screeching in their spine-chilling way, and when Winter glanced at the bushes she saw they were pulling it away, their eyes on their next prey. A black crow, startled, shot past Winter’s shoulder.
“Oh my god.” Connor gasped, the colour draining from his face.
“Come on.” Winter ordered.
They hacked away at the branches in front of them, heading towards the road. The snaps of bark, like bone, and the rustling of leaves were loud and seemed to anger the beings behind them even more. Winter had no idea how safe this was going to be, but with the beings behind them making their way in, they had no choice.
They finally reached the road and rolled out across the ground. The streets in front of them were ruined; bins tipped over, glass smashed, doors hanging off hinges, and the last survivors running as far away as they could. The decaying remained by the gates, trying to rip the bushes apart, unaware that their prey was out in the open.
“We need to get to the next town,” Connor said, standing up. He winced at the pain in his shoulder.
Winter stood up next to him, moving closer, scared of being alone. She wanted shelter and protection.
Nothing had noticed their presence yet. The things in the lane were all hurrying up towards the commotion Winter had just escaped from, while the beings in the streets in front were too preoccupied with other survivors.
They hadn’t escaped the screams yet.
“You’re bleeding,” Connor said, noticing Winter’s cut arm and palm.
“It’s nothing,” Winter said. “Come on, we need to go.”
With her bleeding palm she grabbed Connor and they hurried away from the lane and down a slight hill, away from the streets. They stopped; looking at the street before them, checking it was quiet.
At the end of the road was a roundabout, with the road straight-ahead heading towards the next town. The roundabout was quiet, with no signs of any of these beings near.
After a distant scream and the sounds of something being broken, Winter and Connor both silently agreed they needed to move. Fast.
Chapter Four
Winter and Connor hurried down Bushey Hall Road. They came to the crossroads. They had made it safe and sound so far, with no sign of any of these beings. In fact, houses were undisturbed and sometimes, through the drawn curtains, the glare of a TV set could be seen. For now, normal life went on.
“It doesn’t look like anything too bad has happened just yet,” Connor whispered. Even though they hadn’t seen anything, both were frightened they would round a corner and face what they had just escaped. “I think there’s still time for there to be a warning issued.”
“Who cares about that at the moment?” Winter whispered back. “We need to find somewhere to stay.”
They hurr
ied forwards, trying to keep their footsteps as quiet as possible. Winter wondered if anybody here knew what was happening just a town away.
“Winter.” Connor stopped.
Winter turned around with slight aggravation. She was worried now; she needed to find somewhere safe. They couldn’t keep stopping. She gripped the table leg, prepared to use it if need be.
Connor was looking down a dark street, lit only by two lampposts, and dull yellow lights from flats above cheap shops. All seemed quiet. At the bottom of the lane, a girl stood on the street corner, checking the time on a wristwatch.
“Do you think she’s…human?” Winter asked, feeling ridiculous.
“She’s not screeching, is she?” Connor shrugged.
Regardless, Winter and Connor walked slowly down the street, keeping in the shadows. They heard people talking in the shops they passed, Winter noticing a 24/7 diner, the door propped open, a bored looking waitress at the counter. Winter crouched down behind a parked car, Connor doing the same. They peered around either end at the girl at the end of the street, cast in a dull yellow glow from one of the lamps above.
She was wearing a small dress with a pink stripe that stopped at the top of her thighs, revealing long, thin legs that were covered in black fishnets. Her hair was black and long, falling over her shoulders. She wore leather gloves and high-heeled boots, plastic and white, with money stored away in the heel. She seemed to be awaiting someone, checking the watch on her arm and sighing.
“What’s the time?” Winter whispered. She wondered why this girl was out so late. She didn’t look any older than Winter, she guessed she was the same age.
Connor took out his phone. Winter wished she hadn’t lost hers back at home. “It’s five to twelve.”
It seemed later. The party hadn’t really started. Her parents had bargained it would go on all night. None of that mattered now.
As Winter and Connor watched, a black Jaguar sports car drove slowly down the road. It pulled over towards the girl and parked up.
The girl waited where she was. For a few seconds there was nothing, then the driver got out.
Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning Page 5
