Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning

by Strange, J. S.

  “You don’t lock your doors?” Connor gasped.

  “Nobody does.” Violet shrugged.

  If Winter didn’t realise the contrast of her life and Violet’s before, she did now.

  They walked into a small living room area, coats hung up on one side and shoes piled on shelves on the other.

  Violet turned to them, her hand resting against the door next to her, which Winter thought must lead into the main room.

  “Before you go in, you need to know one thing,” Violet whispered. “My mother isn’t well. She has cancer. She can’t move. My brothers are young, four and six. I hate leaving them, I really do, but without my money they would not survive. The woman upstairs pops down if I’m going to be out long, and luckily I told her to pop down and visit my mum before I went out the other night. So I hope she’s been tending to things while I’ve been away.”

  Violet looked at Winter and Connor, almost daring them to judge her actions, her lifestyle. When nobody said anything, she continued.

  “My mum doesn’t really like loud noises, so you’ll have to be quiet and respectful. Talk to her normally, please. And, well, please don’t mention the zombies outside. She doesn’t need to know about this.”

  Violet pushed the door open in front of her and Winter glimpsed another living room, bigger than the one they stood in now, but just as run down and dark. Violet disappeared behind the door, and Winter made to move, but Connor gripped her hand.

  “When do we call the evacuation squad?” He whispered.

  Winter bit her lip.

  “We can’t stay here long, Winter. If Violet doesn’t want to come, we leave her behind.”

  Winter turned away from Connor and walked into the living room. She heard him sigh behind her and sensed his footsteps following hers. Winter brushed her arm with her hand, feeling slightly self-conscious of meeting someone new.

  Winter spotted Violet crouched down by the arm of a lone and ragged sofa. Winter could just make out black bushy hair leant on the arm. Violet was whispering something, and Winter decided not to intrude.

  The room they were in was narrow and long. At the back of the room was the door Winter had just followed Violet through, painted a white that had faded to yellow a long time ago. At the back wall were two rooms: a bedroom and a kitchen that served as a shower room. Winter saw how small the shower was and felt a pang of sorrow once more.

  At the end of the room, just behind Violet and next to a small TV mounted on a dusty cupboard, sat a double bed where two boys lay sleeping.

  Shelves mounted on dated wallpaper held picture frames. Winter admired them, seeing Violet with a woman who looked just like her, smiling with the London Eye behind them.

  Connor stood looking out of a window that didn’t have anything covering it. The sky above was a dark shade of blue, beginning to form into a new day. They had been walking all night. The window was blemished with spots formed by damp weather, the bottoms rotting away where water had got trapped.

  Violet stood up from the sofa and joined Connor at the window. Winter wandered over, feeling a slight chill in the air from a continuous draft.

  “So what are we going to do?” Violet whispered.

  Connor glanced at Winter. “We evacuate.”

  “My family are coming,” Violet said.

  Connor nodded.

  “It’s not much, this place,” Violet remarked. “In fact, it’s quite shit, but we’ll be out of here soon.”

  Winter looked out of the window over Connor’s shoulder. She was surprised to see that just behind this building was a high street of mainstream shops, a playground at one end of the road. Winter thought it must be a busy town when the time came.

  “We’ll ring the squad at nine,” Connor said. “We’ll try and arrange to be picked up tonight.”

  Violet nodded. She glanced back at the sofa, where her mother was barely visible, and at the two boys sleeping peacefully in the bed.

  “What shall we do today?” Winter asked.

  “I say we go out to get some food,” Violet said, just as Connor’s stomach rumbled. They laughed. “And I don’t want you two cooped up in here all day, because that isn’t fair.”

  “We can’t leave,” Winter said. “This place could be infested at any minute.”

  “I didn’t see anything on the way here. Just don’t go far, if you do decide to go out.”

  Winter nodded, thinking that she probably wouldn’t leave unattended.

  The sun rose, and with it life formed in the little flat Violet called home. Violet bustled around the place, making breakfast for her two brothers and forcing them to eat, and plumping pillows for her mother.

  “It’s nice that you’ve met people, Violet,” her mother said, smiling kindly at Winter and Connor who stood just west of the TV. Winter felt extremely out of place, and Connor kept checking the time. “Where did you find them?”

  “Oh, you know,” Violet called from the kitchen. She was making a drink for her youngest brother, who was playing cars and making explosion noises every few seconds. “Just out and about!”

  Winter wondered if Violet’s mother, Ashley, knew anything about Violet’s lifestyle. She assumed Ashley wouldn’t be stupid, and that she would have known the money came from somewhere. Who left for night shifts every night dressed in barely anything?

  “Where are you from?” Ashley asked, as the oldest brother threw a teddy across the room, screaming out in mock fear.

  “Watford,” Winter replied.

  “Oh, a way away then.” Ashley nodded.

  “Kind of. Not that far really.”

  Ashley smiled. She looked older than she was, her illness not only taking control of her health but also her appearance. Black shadows hung under her bloated looking eyes, constantly wet with pity. Her lips were cracked, thin and tight, her body bony and frail. She had black hair that hung limp and matted. It was the same colours as Violet’s, and Winter could almost see Violet looking back at her.

  The two boys had been introduced as Ben and Ryan. Ryan was the youngest, Ben the oldest. Yet for some reason, Ryan seemed to be the most mature.

  The TV Ashley was watching began displaying end credits. She picked up the remote slowly, pressing the buttons a few times with stiff fingers. The TV image changed to the news, and images of the zombie invasion in Egypt hit the screen.

  Winter watched in awe as footage from the pyramids showed visitors being tackled to the ground and killed, before rising again. The person filming exclaimed swear words, trying to run from the action but also trying to get it all. The footage cut off, and Winter wondered if the person filming had escaped alive.

  Ashley looked like she was going to be sick, possibly from her illness or possibly from the footage she had just seen, Winter couldn’t tell.

  “That was horrible,” Ashley muttered. “Has that happened over here yet?”

  Winter and Connor looked at each other, not sure what to say, but Violet saved them from answering, walking into the room and handing her mother a drink of water and her brother a drink of squash.

  It was ten to nine, and Connor was beginning to get agitated. He held the booklet of evacuation information, rustling it in his fingers every now and then. Winter was beginning to feel worried, even slightly excited. She hoped they could get out of this place quickly, before it was infested once more.

  Winter wondered why Ashley wasn’t in a hospital. Watching her now, she was struggling to drink. Violet kept holding a bowl under her chin in case Ashley couldn’t hold down what she drank or ate. She would fall asleep every half an hour, only to wake up again sweating and panicked, before calming down. Violet would have to move Ashley’s position to stop her getting any bedsores, and while doing this she had to assist Ashley when she needed the toilet. It was hard work, and Winter realised that not only was Violet a daughter and a sister, she was taking on the role of carer, adult and householder.

  Violet kept urging them to leave, almost as if she was worried the pair would
judge her for how things were run in her household. Each time, Winter and Connor insisted they would stay and help the best they could.

  Nine o’clock came. Violet was in the shower, Ashley was asleep, and Violet’s brothers were watching a kids TV programme.

  Connor took Winter to the side, stood by an image of a young Violet and her brothers. He picked up a wireless phone by the side of him and held it out to her.

  “We have to ring them,” Connor whispered.

  “But Violet hasn’t even mentioned evacuation to them yet. They don’t even know what’s coming.”

  “It’s better for them to leave now, though, isn’t it? Before they do realise what’s going on.”

  Winter sighed. Regardless of whether Ashley and her sons knew what was happening or not, they would have to leave London.

  Winter took the phone that Connor kept holding towards her. She watched him leaf through the leaflet until the page on the evacuation squad became the focus, designed to look like it was advertising the army, Winter remarked that someone could spend so much time on one little thing when there was a crisis happening all around them.

  Connor read out the number and Winter dialled, feeling nervous. She could hear the water running in the bathroom, the sounds of deep breathing from a slumbering Ashley, and felt like she was being naughty.

  The phone rang. Once, twice, and then on the third ring it picked up.

  A man with a gruff voice spoke.

  “Government evacuation squad, what do you want?”

  No ‘how can I help?’

  “Hello, um, we were just wondering if we could…uh…arrange to be picked…evacuated from where we’re staying right now. We’re um…near…”

  “You want to be evacuated?”

  “Well, yeah, that’s why we rang…” Winter said, nervously laughing. Connor was watching her.

  “And where are you based?”

  “Based?”

  “Where are you hiding? Where is your location?”

  “Oh, right, we’re not hiding…”

  “Where is your location?” The gruff voice asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

  “Borehamwood,” She glared at Connor to find an address. He looked around, spotted letters lying on a shelf and found the postcode. Winter recited it quickly.

  “And how long have you been in Borehamwood?” The man asked clicking away on a keyboard, noting her details.

  “Oh, only for a few hours, we came from Watford…”

  “Survivors of Watford,” he remarked, this time sounding slightly impressed. “Bloodbath there.”

  “I know,” Winter said, not really sure what else to say.

  “And where are you living?”

  The water stopped in the shower. Winter gripped the phone.

  “In a flat.”

  There was a pause on the other line as the man typed in details.

  “When did you want to be evacuated? We can make your case a high priority, as Borehamwood is at a high risk of being invaded.”

  Winter looked at Connor.

  “Tonight, if possible?”

  “Not possible,” The man replied. “We can come tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow night?” Winter asked, shielding the bottom end of the phone as she talked to Connor. Connor nodded quickly. “Tomorrow night is fine. What time?”

  “We can be there for ten. How many are there?”

  Winter thought for a moment. “There are six.”

  “There are only three spaces available.”

  “What?”

  “Only three of you can board,” The man on the end of the phone reiterated, as if she was stupid.

  “But can’t you send another vehicle?”

  Connor looked worried, suddenly realising what was being said at the other end of the line.

  “We are extremely under staffed and extremely busy. You either evacuate three people or leave it for someone else.”

  “Get here for ten o’clock tomorrow night,” Winter snapped, and she hung up the phone.

  “What’s happening?” Connor immediately asked.

  Winter slammed the phone back in the receiver. How could people be so rude even when the world was falling apart around them?

  “That man was horrible,” Winter cried. “And only three people can be evacuated.”

  Connor’s eyes widened. The sound of a towel rack hitting a door from the kitchen echoed in the house.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly what I just said,” Winter said. “Only three people can be evacuated. They said as well that Borehamwood is at a high risk of being infected, which is even better, isn’t it? We can’t leave without Violet, yet we can’t stay because we will be killed.”

  “Only three of us can leave?”

  “Yes,” Winter snapped. “Only three of us can leave.”

  “Then it has to be us,”

  “Are you serious? It has to be Violet and her family. They can…”

  Then the realisation hit Winter. Either way, Violet would have to part from her family.

  “Oh my god,” Winter sighed. “What have I done? She’s going to have to leave them.”

  “Which is why it should only be us that should go,” Connor said quickly, almost desperately. “Violet will want to stay with her family, and we let her stay.”

  “We can’t do that,” Winter tried to keep her voice low. “That is so unfair.”

  “It’s life, Winter.”

  “We have to evacuate Ashley and the boys. Look at them.”

  Connor turned with Winter to look at the small family. Ashley was still sleeping, unaware what was happening just a few hours away. The boys were watching television; too young to comprehend that life would never be the same again.

  Connor looked defeated and ashamed.

  He sighed. “Of course they have to go.”

  Winter placed a hand on his arm. “It’s hard, Con, but we will get out of here.”

  Connor smiled slightly. A smile that portrayed only sadness.

  The door of the shower room and kitchen opened and Violet walked out. She smiled at Winter and Connor before heading next door to her room.

  “Shall I go and tell her?” Winter asked.

  Connor shrugged. “I’ll go and get some food.”

  “Be safe,”

  Connor muttered something before leaving the room.

  Winter walked across the room, her blood splattered dress still tight around her body. She knocked on Violet’s door and was told to come in.

  The room had a bunk bed, but the bottom bunk was piled with clothes. The room was small, and Winter was sure it was once used for storage, not a bedroom. A window at the end of the room looked out on to the town below, which was getting busier now that the day went on. Violet stood rooting for clothes, in nothing but black-lace underwear and her fishnet tights.

  “Did you call the evacuation squad?” Violet chose a loose fitting jumper and pulled it on.

  Violet looked at Winter and saw that she needed to say something serious and important. She sat on the steps that climbed up to the top bunk.

  “Go on,”

  Winter sighed. She explained the phone call, the rude man, the risk of this place being infested with the dead, and that only three people could leave when the squad came tomorrow night.

  Violet looked heartbroken. Her eyes filled with tears and she looked away at a blank, pink wall. Winter could see her shoulders rising and falling slowly as she tried to calm her emotions.

  “Only three?” Violet whispered.

  “Only three,”

  Violet sniffed. She turned halfway, staring at the wall opposite her, not looking at Winter. Winter tried to look away, to give Violet privacy, but with a glance she saw a tear roll down Violet’s cheek.

  “They’ll be safer this way,” Winter said, trying to make Violet feel better.

  “So I have to leave them…” Violet muttered. “If we decide to go, they get left behind. If they go, I get left behind.”
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  “It’s up to you what you want to do,”

  Violet wiped the tears from her eyes. “You said that Borehamwood is at a high risk?”

  Winter nodded.

  “Then they have to go,” Violet said. “I can’t leave them here. Do they know about how ill my mum is?”

  Winter shook her head. She had completely forgotten to mention it. Yet she hadn’t been asked health status.

  “Well, it’s best they don’t, in case they refuse to take her,” Violet said to herself. “I’ll tell them what’s wrong with her, and I’ll make sure she gets the care she deserves.”

  “She will. Your family will be safe. We will see them again when we get to Paris.”

  “If we get to Paris,” Violet sighed.

  “Don’t say that. They’re keeping France safe. We can get there. It will be alright.”

  Violet stood up. She pulled on denim shorts and adjusted her fishnet tights. She picked up the gun from the top of her bed and strapped it into the same place as before.

  “I’ll go and tell them what’s going to happen,” Violet said. She smiled at Winter. “Thank you for sorting it out. If I had done it, I probably would have said no, selfishly wanting to stay with my family. But this way, I have to let them go. They have to escape this.”

  Violet nodded, reassuring herself with her own words. She left the room, leaving Winter stood in a mountain of clothes, looking out to the town below where people shopped, some of them maybe unaware that Borehamwood would be disturbed soon.

  Winter left Violet’s room and showered. She savoured the warm water that ran down her skin, savoured the feeling of being clean again. She didn’t know how long she stood under the strong pressure of water, just hoping it would wash away the events of the night before, the bloody monsters, the attacks, the fear. She dried, making her hair even messier than before, and gritted her teeth when she pulled on the blood-splattered dress, wishing she had new clothes.

  She walked out into the main room once more, thinking about what she would do if she came across her parents heading towards the docks, when Violet walked up to her and led her out to the small coat room near the front door.