“My mother is fine with leaving,” Violet said. “I explained everything to her. I explained that they have to go, and that we will be leaving on a coach an hour after them, that we’ll see them soon. I had to lie. She couldn’t know that she may never see me again.”
Winter nodded, making a mental note to stick to the story if Ashley ever asked.
“Thank you so much, Winter,” Violet smiled. “For helping me, not judging how we live, letting me stick with you, and helping my family.”
“You’ve done most of that by yourself. It’s yourself you need to thank.”
Violet waved a hand, as if this wasn’t important.
“I just never know what to do,” Violet sighed. “I’m seventeen, and I’m raising a family, I’m caring for my mum. I mean, that’s not right, is it? Sure, I get help from the woman upstairs and a few nurses who visit daily, for an hour, but I do most of the work.”
Winter listened. She could see that Violet had needed to say these words for a while.
“We used to live on the streets, but as soon as I had enough money, we bought this place,” Violet said, and she looked around the little coatroom proudly. “Then, a few years later, my mum got sick, and I had to up the hours on my job. I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I just need you to know, Winter, that even though I go out and give myself away to any Tom, Dick or Harry, I’m always thinking of my family, and I’m always thinking of what they need. I’m not a selfish girl. I’m not a bitch. I’m just doing what I have to do to survive.”
Violet sighed.
“And when they’ve been evacuated, I can leave this all behind, I can escape to a better life, I can get the help of the government, and if you’d let me, I can stay with you.”
“Of course you can stay with me.” Winter smiled.
Violet grinned. “I feel like I’ve known you for longer than just a few days.”
“It’s crazy what brings people together, isn’t it?” Winter laughed.
“Why didn’t we meet over a cup of coffee like normal people?”
“Well, meeting over the murder of a man that turned into a zombie before your eyes is a pretty good story.”
Violet laughed. “I guess you’re right!”
There was the sound of something hitting the door next to them, and Winter and Violet stopped, listening out. Then, the door handle turned and the door opened, and Connor returned holding a drinks bottle and looking calmer than when he had left.
He looked slightly surprised to see them standing before him, as if he thought they had been waiting for him.
“Did you tell her?” He asked Winter.
“She told me,” Violet said. “My family are going, we’re staying.”
Connor looked at Winter. She shrugged.
“Cool,” He said, even though he didn’t seem enthusiastic about the idea. “Listen, I’ve had an idea.”
He walked into the small coatroom, shutting the door behind them. With three of them in there the little space that was there for two was now gone. Winter felt slightly claustrophobic, being only inches away from both Violet and Connor.
“I was thinking…if we’re staying, we need weapons, survival kits,” Connor said.
“We’ve got my gun.” Violet said.
“That’s not going to last us for long. You’ll run out of ammunition for your gun.”
Violet looked like she wanted to reply, but with a look from Winter she stopped.
“I’m thinking, if Violet is letting her family go, then you’ll be staying here a little longer?” Connor asked.
Winter looked at Violet for her permission. After all, this was her house. She may not want to stay when her family had left her.
“We’ll stay until the first signs of trouble, then we’re gone.” Violet nodded.
“I got word of a small garage a few streets away that are selling weapons and supplies,” Connor said quickly. “It’s closer than the one in Elstree, and less people know about it, which means we have more chance of getting weapons.”
“Which means?”
“Which means I’m going to leave now, and get us some weapons.” Connor avoided both of their eyes. “It may take a few days. I should be back the day after tomorrow, with any luck.”
“No,” Winter breathed. “You can’t leave on your own.”
“It’s really not that far away. There aren’t any zombies here yet, so the travel there and back will be relatively safe.”
“And what if the zombies come while you’re away? It’s not only the dead you have to fear, Connor. With the laws crumbling and authority figures are dying, crime is at an all-time high. People are turning against one another, no matter if they’re dead or alive.”
“Winter, it will take me a day to get there, and a day to get back,” Connor said. “I will be back the night after Violet’s family leaves, if I leave here today.”
“We’ll come with you,” Violet said. “We’ll come after we say goodbye to my mum and my brothers.”
“That’s too slow. We’re wasting valuable time to leave this place and get to the docks. This makes more sense. One of us leaves, and comes back with weapons, then we leave together.”
“Connor, it’s dangerous.” Winter said sternly. “You can’t leave this place alone.”
“What else do you suggest we do, Winter? Do we wait for the zombies to come, and then curse that we didn’t have weapons to escape? Or do we take the risk of one of us getting weapons, coming back safely and having the weapons for when we head to the docks? People aren’t going to be trading weapons forever. They’re soon going to be gone. Nothing is stable here anymore.”
“He’s right,” Violet muttered. Winter looked at Violet with surprise. “We have to take the risk. If we need to get to those docks alive, we need protection. We need weapons.”
“We can just escape with the evacuation squads!” Winter said.
“Do you really think we’re going to find one with enough spaces for all of us?” Connor asked. “Do you really think they’re going to give a damn if one of us is left behind?”
“Of course they will, they’re here to help!” Winter shouted. Violet glared at her to keep her voice down.
“That man on the phone didn’t sound very helpful to me,” Connor said. Winter sensed an edge in his voice she hadn’t heard before. She suddenly realised she hadn’t even known Connor beforehand, that they had just met for a casual date, and then they had been laid upon each other. “The squad are only able to do what they can. London has a huge population and not even half of that will evacuate by the help of the government. People have been urged to get to the docks, and if they happen to find evacuation squads on the way to get in.”
Winter sighed. She leant against a bare patch of wall, running a hand through her messy hair.
“Connor, leave now,” Violet said. Winter listened, not even bothering to object, knowing her voice would be wasted. “Leave now, get the weapons. Get guns, get bullets, and get grenades if you can. Just get what you can, and come back here quickly.”
Connor nodded. He looked at Winter. She saw out of her peripheral vision that he wanted to say something, but instead he ran a hand over his t-shirt and turned his back on them, leaving down the hallway until he was out of sight.
“He’s going to be okay,” Violet said to Winter.
“Is he?”
Chapter Eight
Winter had kept to herself for the rest of the day, deciding to try and deal with Connor’s decision to leave. She had forgotten about going out for food, instead settling for dry brand noodles that were only imitations of the real thing. She had been given the bottom bunk to sleep in - Violet had cleared away clothes for her. Winter didn’t know what time it was, but she had led in bed when it was light, and had watched the sun go down until outside was pitch black, and the sounds of busy people in the town below were no more than the few odd shouts from people passing.
She lay under the blankets, her hands under her head, her ruined designer
dress lying on the floor a few feet from her. She watched the stars in the sky, while listening to the sound of the TV in the next room. Being enclosed in the small room, surrounded by blankets and clothes, Winter had felt a sense of closure envelope her. She had felt relaxed, content and safe.
But bad thoughts had plagued her night, and Winter had found herself crying more than once.
The memory of her past always came to her, but especially now when there was so much negativity floating around. She thought of the need to escape, the fear that she would die at the hands of someone she had loved, had feared, had hated. She remembered the scream of terror when she had seen the dead body, the sounds of footsteps outside, the hope that someone would save her, and then the feeling of change inside her. Her old innocence wrecked and ruined, her young childhood gone to be replaced by forced adulthood at fourteen.
The old humour, innocence, laughter and kindness had been replaced with the feeling of boredom, anger, hatred, trust issues and worry that everyone was out to get her. She felt dirty and she felt lost, and no one had ever been there to tell her none of it had been her fault. No one had given her enough time to get over what had happened. Nobody had ever made sure that she was going to be fine when she aged.
Guilt weighed inside her, tears rolled down her cheeks once more as she silently sobbed. She curled up under the blankets, trying to find comfort in someone that wasn’t there.
She was alone now more than ever. Her whole life had been ripped away from her. The comfort had been destroyed. She had been forced to trust strangers once more, forced to escape the brutality of what was happening to the world. She had been placed on a challenge.
She heard the door handle move from a weight on the other side and tugged the blankets up to obscure some of her face. She clamped her eyes tight shut and heard Violet walk into the room, closing the bedroom door behind her quietly and climbing up to the bed above.
Winter heard the rustle of sheets being pulled into place, heard the mattress groan with an added weight, and heard Violet let out an exhausted sigh.
There was silence for a while. Winter could only hear the natural creaks of the building, the sounds of distant footsteps a few floors above, cars driving through the town outside slowly.
Then Violet spoke, and Winter was not surprised that she had failed to fool her.
“What the hell started this?”
Winter didn’t reply. Not for a while, anyway. She wanted Violet to think she was asleep, or maybe she wanted Violet to believe she didn’t care.
“I don’t know if we’ll ever know that,” Winter whispered.
“What the hell changed regular humans like me and you, into ravaging beasts like that?”
Winter adjusted her position in the bed, finding somewhere comfortable, willing sleep.
“A virus,” Winter ventured. “I think it is some sort of virus.”
Violet breathed in. Again, silence filled the room. The two girls heard the distant sound of a car door shutting.
“But what virus turns people into monsters?”
“How do we stop it?”
“I don’t think it’s something we can just stop,” Violet said. Winter heard her lean up in the bed above, and a second later her head appeared over the side of the bed, slightly obscured by the darkness of the room. Winter could see Violet was looking at her, reading her emotions. “Not until we learn what caused this and how it’s transmitted.”
“A bite. I saw it.”
Violet nodded, and her head disappeared from view. Winter heard her lying down once more.
“A bite,” she repeated. It sounded like she was lost in thought. “We need to avoid being bitten.”
“The bite seems to just weaken a person, some quicker than others, until suddenly they’re lying on the ground, and a moment later they’re up looking for flesh to tear apart.”
“They don’t even seem to eat the person, though.” Violet said, as if this was an every day conversation to be had. “It’s just a bite, tearing of flesh, bloodbaths and that’s it.”
“There must be some sort of counter virus,” Winter whispered. The thought seemed to give her some newfound hope. “There must be something, somewhere, that can save those already alive and kill those already dead.”
“You’ve been watching too many films.” Violet laughed.
“Have I?” It was Winter’s turn to sit up. She threw the blankets away from her and looked up to the bed above, staring at blank ceiling for a few seconds before Violet peered over curiously. “I mean, there must be something, someone can do. We could even do it!”
“I don’t think so,” Violet said, and even in the dark Winter could see her rolling her eyes. “They haven’t even found a cure for cancer yet. Something tells me they won’t find a cure for this anytime soon.”
“Paris,” Winter breathed, more to herself than Violet. “That’s gotta be why people are going there for safety. That must be where the vaccination is.”
“Whatever.” Violet rolled away onto the mattress out of view.
Winter, feeling slightly deflated, lay back down in bed. The hope that had burnt inside her only a few moments ago had gone.
“If we don’t find a cure…” Winter said, deliberating on whether or not to continue.
“If we don’t find a cure?”
“If we don’t find a cure, we find the reason behind this, and we stop it.”
Winter heard Violet exhale, possibly a laugh of doubt, of pity.
“How far do you think Connor is?”
Winter wasn’t ready to change the subject, but something told her that there was no arguing with Violet. She definitely thought that they weren’t any different to the rest of the survivors in the world. The help the world desperately needed was not in this room.
“I think he’s got where he wanted to go,” Winter’s voice was barely audible. She didn’t believe her own words.
“He’s safe, Winter,”
There were no hiding emotions from Violet. She could sense it, almost. She knew.
“But what if he’s not?”
“He is.”
And that was that. The pair didn’t speak for the rest of the night. Winter didn’t know when Violet fell asleep, if it was before or after the owl outside hooted, or a late night traveller cruised on by. Winter didn’t know if she fell asleep before or after the sound of a bottle rolling across stone sounded in the night, she couldn’t remember, but she remembered her dream like it was real.
The house they were staying in broke apart from the tall building of flats, falling down onto the ocean, where the waves battered against the walls, threatening to break the windows.
Winter could hear Violet screaming, but she couldn’t see her friend anywhere. Something splashed in the water next to her, making Winter leap out of her own bed onto a cosy armchair. There, splashing in the water, her brown hair ruined, was Missy Founder.
Missy was infected. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin was thinning, and her humanity was being replaced with nothing but the emotion to kill.
Yet something remained. Her fading eyes met with Winter’s, and Missy called out to her old friend, screaming that she had been forgotten at the party, that Winter should have helped her, that she had been left to die.
Then, without any warning, a submarine broke through the vicious waters. The submarine was on fire, and Violet stood in the middle, surrounded by towering flames that threatened to engulf her.
Violet called to Winter just like Missy had, but her words were kind. She asked that she take care of her mother, protect her brothers, and buy a pint of milk and a loaf of bread as the bread in the kitchen was two days past its sell by date.
Winter promised she would as she watched her friend burn alive. The heat intensifying, making Winter sweat.
Winter woke with a start. She was sweating, and she realised it was because the sun had risen on a new day and was shining directly through the window onto the bed. As the flames flickered and died before h
er eyes, and the sounds of the crashing water faded away, Winter breathed in, realising that it had all been a bizarre dream.
* * *
There was no word off Connor that morning, not that Winter expected it. She sat in silence as they all ate breakfast, aware that Violet was watching her with concern.
At twenty to one, Violet told Winter she was taking her brothers out for food, and that they would then be spending time in the playground for an hour.
“If you don’t mind, could you look after mum? The carers won’t be here until two.”
Winter agreed, although she felt apprehension set in at the prospect of being alone with Violet’s mother.
As Violet pulled on the coats of her brothers, who fought to keep it off their backs, she leant in towards Winter.
“America will be gone by the end of the day,” she whispered. “Judging by the news, it’s completely destroyed. Florida is already gone.”
Winter’s eyes widened. “America. I thought that place would have been untouchable.”
Violet shrugged. “Listen, you’ll be alright with my mum.”
“Just go,”
Violet nodded. She ushered her brothers out of the front door, and Winter heard their voices echoing in the stairwell.
Winter suddenly felt cold, small, lonely. She was alone with Ashley, who was awake, lying on the sofa, waiting for Winter to sit down at her side.
Winter did just that. She turned on the TV and put the news on, smiling at Ashley as she did.
“You don’t mind, do you?”
Ashley blinked. “Of course not. I’d like to know what is going on in this world, bad or good. Although it’s almost always bad, isn’t it?”
The news reporter, a man in his late twenties, possibly early thirties, looked tired. The normally formal appearance of a news reporter was replaced with fear, shabbiness.
“The United States of America faces the worst outbreak yet, with the population dwindling into their thousands.” The man said, his eyes flickering away from the camera. “Evacuation squads have made America their top priority, with evacuated people being transported to France through the air.”
Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning Page 12
