Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning

by Strange, J. S.

  So she pulled on one of his gardening tartan tops so she was covered. She could smell him, which made her sick, but all she cared about was getting rid of him.

  She picked up an axe, stored underneath the stairs. He always kept his gardening tools inside the house. She could hear him laughing along with a comedy show he was watching.

  As the water of the shower poured down on Winter she remembered how she threw open the door and ran in. He was too slow.

  His head turned just as Winter raised the axe. There was nothing he could do. He tried to protest, but Winter swung and she felt the axe connect with his skull. She knew he was dead after one blow, but she kept hitting him over and over again until she was weak. All of the hurt and the anger she felt temporarily disappeared and she sunk to her knees and wept.

  She sat in the kitchen and waited for the rest of the weekend until somebody came and discovered the scene. A carer, who popped in to visit her grandmother, found Winter in the kitchen. She spotted her half naked, spotted her skin covered in blood, and screamed when she went into the room and saw Winter’s grandfather dead.

  There had been media frenzy. After all, Winter was not only involved in an abuse scandal, but she was also involved in a murder scandal. The story was an unknown neighbour had killed her grandparents.

  However, the truth did finally come out. Everyone learned that Winter was abused. Everyone learned that the reason Winter’s grandmother had never helped her was because her grandfather was drugging her. Everyone learned that Winter Smith had killed the grandfather.

  Winter faced jail. At fourteen, Winter faced a life of nothing but shame and fear. But being rich, her parents had their privileges, and they paid the media to report on one story and paid the police to keep Winter free.

  Winter scrubbed at her skin with soap. She tried to wash off the memory. She felt like he was there with her now. She felt as though he had only stopped touching her seconds ago.

  To ease her mind she looked around the shower room. There was no one there but herself and her thoughts. He couldn’t hurt her anymore. He was dead. He wasn’t coming back.

  She turned the shower off and rested her head against the wall. Feeling the cold wall against her forehead soothed her. She let the air nip at her wet skin before she got a towel and began to dry her body. She had to get back to the kids.

  She hadn’t even thought about what she wanted to think about. She hadn’t thought of a plan to leave. She hadn’t even thought of her parents or the possibility of Connor’s well being. All she could ever think about was her grandfather.

  She pulled on her clothes, went to the bathroom and then left to go back upstairs. As she was walking past, Zach came out of one of the doors. He was wearing a top and boxers and his hair was tousled. He spotted Winter and smiled awkwardly.

  “Hello, Winter. I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

  Winter shrugged. “It’s no problem, Zach.”

  “Uh, I’ve got to go to the bathroom, but meet me on the third floor in about ten minutes?”

  “Fine.” She didn’t return the smile Zach gave her and walked back upstairs. She saw the office where the kids had been left empty, but could hear them next door. She checked on them and saw they were drawing in accounts books. Winter almost told them to stop, but thought they were worthless now anyway.

  Sat in the hallway, Winter looked through a rectangle window outside. The storm from last night had cleared, with only a light rainfall emptying from the tired sky. Sunlight broke through weak clouds and shone on wet stone.

  Winter could hear Zach and Violet whispering downstairs, no doubt planning their escape. Winter wondered if she could still get Zach back on her side. She knew she was being childish, and she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

  She could leave tonight. But if she travelled by night she would most certainly be killed. She would rather know where she was going. The streets were not safe, so maybe she could travel the rooftops? However, the kids wouldn’t handle the rooftops. If they slowed her down on the ground they would definitely slow her down on the roofs.

  She had to find Connor, but to find Connor she had to start in the last place she had seen him, and that was Borehamwood. Could she afford to travel that far back to may or may not find him?

  She had her gun. If she was attacked she could fight them off, regardless of whether or not they were alive or dead. She wondered if she could tag along with a group, surely that would increase her safety and also her chances to escape London for good?

  Once in Paris, she could find her parents, live with them again until she got herself her own place. A new life in Paris would be something she would be well suited to. It was what kept her going.

  She’d feel guilty if Violet and Zach didn’t make it. She would never forgive herself.

  She heard the door slam downstairs and dull footsteps retreat from a door. She pulled herself to her feet and busied herself, making it look like she was heading towards the floor above and not feeling sorry for herself in the hallway alone.

  She rushed down the hallway and climbed the steps so she got to the third floor before Zach. She changed her expression to look bored and nonplussed by the events of today and last night.

  A few moments later Zach came through a wooden door, struggling to pull it open. He spotted Winter and smiled slightly, but she noticed he didn’t look her straight in the eye.

  “Shall we go into one of the offices?” Zach asked.

  Winter opened the door nearest them and an office greeted them with only two tables inside. Winter sat on one, while Zach sat on the other. The feeling of tension and awkward memories hung around them. Winter waited for Zach to speak first.

  “I’m sorry.”

  That was it. That was all he said. Unlike Violet, however, he sincerely did sound sorry. Winter stared at the wall for a few moments then looked at him. He watched her, his face full of worry that he had messed things up for their trio friendship. She could see he was taking the full blame, the guilt eating at him from the inside and beginning to crawl to the outside.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

  “Of course I do,” Zach sighed. “I’m sorry for pretty much ignoring you last night. I’m sorry for spending the night with Violet. I’m sorry you had to see me naked.”

  He added this as a slight joke, in the hopes to break the tension. Winter allowed herself to exhale from her nose, but she didn’t smile.

  “I heard you.” Winter said, crossing her arms and looking down at the table. “I heard you both talking in the kitchen.”

  The table groaned as Zach sat up.

  “You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?”

  “Violet wants to,” Zach said, his voice low as if he feared she was in the room. “I’ve tried to tell her not to go. I said to her the three of us have to stick together. But she…”

  “…Slept with you.” Winter finished the sentence for him.

  Zach shrugged slightly.

  “Can’t you see she’s manipulating you?” Winter asked. “She’s trying to turn you against me. She wants you two to go, and if you go I know I won’t survive this, Zach.”

  Her voice wavered and she began to cry. Zach hurried across the room to throw his arm around her shoulder. She leant into him, crying, smelling Violet on his skin.

  “What’s happened between you both?” Zach asked. “You were friends. Why are you both set on ruining each other all of a sudden?”

  Winter sniffed. She wiped away the tears that just wouldn’t stop running. She didn’t know how a person could cry so much over so little time, but she was managing it easily.

  “Because I don’t trust her.” Winter sobbed. “I’ve seen things you haven’t. I tried to overlook them. She’s ruthless in her ways, Zach. She’s not someone you want to cross. She wants it her way and nothing else.”

  Zach said nothing, but she could read his body language. It told her that he thought the same, but he still liked Violet. Of course he
would. She had probably taken his virginity.

  “And then, I saw her push you…”

  “She didn’t push me, Winter,” Zach said, and he sounded desperate. “You have to believe me.”

  “I saw it with my own eyes, Zach.”

  “Did you though, Winter? Did you? Are you sure? It was raining; none of us could see anything because of the wind. Plus it was dark. And I know she didn’t push me. I felt her hands on me, yes, because she tried to grab me. She tried to save me. But at the same time a gust of wind came. I felt the wind blow me off the roof, not Violet’s hands push me.”

  Winter began to shake her head, but Zach clicked his tongue and spoke again.

  “You’re both becoming those people who are going a little bit mad.”

  Winter whipped her head up in anger. She turned to Zach to read his expression. He did look a little frightened under her gaze but he carried on anyway.

  “You’re both becoming paranoid, and you’re letting things get to your head. You both saw those people in the leisure centre, how they turned against each other so easily and were frightened of going out doors because they just didn’t understand anything anymore. You’re starting to go against each other. You’re starting to lose trust in each other, and because of that you’re arguing.”

  “Well done.” Winter clapped her hands once, in a sarcastic gesture.

  “You need to stop this.” Zach shook his head. “Because this is how it all begins. If the zombies don’t kill you, you’re going to kill each other.”

  Winter bit her lip.

  “I want to go back to Borehamwood, Zach, and I want you to come with me.”

  Zach’s shoulders slumped. There, in front of her, Winter saw him lose all hope he had for her. She could tell by his expression she wasn’t winning. His mind was somewhere else, probably Violet’s body, and not on the well being of Winter.

  “Winter, we’ve had this discussion before.” He sighed. “We can’t go back. It’s too dangerous. London is literally a no-mans zone.”

  “We’ve survived so far, Zach.”

  “And that’s just on bare luck. We’re tempting fate if we go back again.”

  “But Connor, Zach. I have to find Connor.”

  “Connor’s dead, Winter.” Zach said before he could stop himself.

  Winter shook her head. She was frustrated with how things had turned out. She wanted everything to be simple. Why couldn’t she just hop in a car, get to the Thames on a peaceful trip and clear her mind as she travelled to a new life in Paris? She missed the comforts of a nice, warm bed. She missed the food her parent’s cooks would whip up for them every night. She missed television programmes, and Internet access and all of the normal things that seemed so foreign to them now.

  She had never had friends. She had lived without friends all of her life. So looking at Zach now, why was she so keen on getting him on her side? She could live without him. She could survive without him. Her life was better when she was alone.

  “He’s not dead.” Winter sighed, convincing herself more than Zach.

  “We tried to get in touch with him, Winter. We tried and he never came back.”

  “You would never have said this if it wasn’t for her, Zach.”

  Zach didn’t reply.

  “You would have gone along with my idea, and let me find who I need to find.”

  “Has it occurred to you Winter that maybe I don’t want to be a push over anymore? Did you think that maybe now that I’ve lost everything, I can start afresh, too?” Winter opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. Zach stood up. “No, of course you didn’t, because you’re not thinking about anyone else but yourself, are you? You’ve put our lives in danger with those kids, and now you want to risk our lives again by going back to Borehamwood. It can’t happen, Winter. Forget Connor and focus on getting ourselves out of this country.”

  Zach strode away, but Winter wouldn’t let him have the last word.

  “She’s poisoning your mind, Zach!” Winter screamed as he pulled open the door. “She’s messing with your head!”

  And as the door slammed shut behind him, Winter began to cry again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The night was quiet. It was so calming Winter was able to lay her head against the wall and just relax. She hadn’t been able to relax in a long time. The hours after her argument with Zach had allowed her to think things over. It had plagued her all day, to the point where she was no longer focussing on what she was doing.

  She had successfully managed to stay out of the way of Violet and Zach. She had heard them talking downstairs, heard them giggling and then she had moved herself and the kids, who were getting ill, to another part of the building, where she could be left alone to herself.

  She didn’t know what time it was but she knew it was late. The kids had been sleeping for a few hours. The darkness outside had the silence only a late hour had.

  She hadn’t heard Violet and Zach for awhile, which led her to believe they had fallen asleep. Either that or they had succeeded in leaving her alone.

  Yet the building was quiet, and the air outside was still. It unnerved Winter just a little bit. It was like the calm before a storm, and Winter couldn’t face a storm again.

  She had considered leaving that night. She had thought about leaving the kids behind, leaving them to Violet and Zach, who would have no choice but to keep them well. She had stood by the doors that required a fob. She had found a spare access key lying in draws underneath the receptions desk. She had toyed with the idea of leaving, escaping for the Thames.

  But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave her friends behind. There was something that told her they could sort out their differences if they only tried, and that if she left them that hope of resolving problems would be gone.

  Then there was the matter of the kids. They were coming down with something. A cold, possibly, from the pouring rain of the storm. She had secretly checked their bodies for any marks, but that was hard to do when they weren’t her own children. Even though she was responsible for them now, she felt as though it was wrong to assist them in the shower or help them change clothes. They had surprisingly found clothes hidden away in a wardrobe of one of the offices; Winter thought it had been odd. Who would keep spare clothes in their office? After some alteration she had made the kids clothes that would fit them. Their dirty clothes were washed in the toilet sinks.

  She had also acquired a notebook, which she had begun writing in. She noted everything from the first day of the outbreak to now. Reading back on it, she could see how much had changed.

  The building made natural sounds that Winter began turning into something else, allowing her nervous and paranoid mind to twist things to its own liking. She thought at one point she heard a footstep, and had spooked herself so much she had gone to investigate, hoping she didn’t come face to face with the dead.

  This building was so well hidden, sat in an industrial estate, and so safe from the dead, Winter wondered why nobody was here. She wondered where all of the workers could have gotten to. Maybe they had all gone home when the outbreak began. She tried to remember the date it had begun. It had seemed so long ago.

  At some point in the dark hours she heard birds singing outside. Lyrics of things they had witnessed, a sorrowful tune that made Winter sad. She pulled out a pen and flipped to the nearest clean page in her journal and began to write: ‘Birds singing outside. Makes me wonder if animals are infected. I seem to be seeing and hearing them doing their day to day things, while humanity dies around them.’

  She had never had a pet of her own. Her mother was allergic to cats and her dad had had a bad experience with any other animal there was. Maybe when all of this was over she would get a pet. A nice cat or a little rabbit.

  Outside she heard something fall. It echoed through the night, disturbing the calm. Standing up, she crept past the two sleeping children and peered through the window. All she could see was a suffocating dark. The streetlamp
s had stopped working a long time ago.

  She crept out of the room and into the warm hallway, clutching her journal. Looking out through one of the odd rectangular windows, she could see that the car park was empty. She thought this strange. The zombies had been there since they arrived. Why would they have left? Where would they have gone?

  She headed down a dark stairwell, past windows that allowed her to get a good view of the nearest street. Again, there was nothing but rubbish blowing across the ground in an unheard gust of wind.

  She got to the bottom floor and opened the door of an office next door to the one where Violet and Zach lay sleeping. To be truthful, Winter wasn’t sure if they were sharing a room again, but Winter hadn’t seen either of them since her argument with Zach. She was sure he had spent the rest of the day slandering her name, his words mixed with Violet’s to create a horrible image of the famous Winter Smith.

  She manoeuvred her way past desks full of scattered papers, left behind coffee mugs and overflowing bins until she got to the window. The blinds were drawn, disallowing her from seeing anything outside. She scanned for the chains that would open the blinds, and once she found them she pulled.

  The blinds snapped and shot upwards.

  A mass of zombies pressed against the window, their decaying flesh and blood soaked hands slapping the glass repeatedly. There was an even louder thump and Winter saw one deranged being throwing itself against the glass over and over again, without any signs of pain. They had all laid their empty dead eyes on Winter. They all suddenly realised with as much brain as they had that there was food on the other side of the glass.

  Winter suddenly realised why the zombies from the car park had gone. They had discovered the weak part of the building and were set on getting in.

  Winter knew she had to leave the room. The window was buckling in its frame under the pressure of the dead. With a few more hits it would break.