Vaporized

by Simon Rosser

  With Bowie blaring from the stereo, she closed in on the Severn Bridge, which spanned the River Severn, connecting England to Wales. She threw her second cigarette out of the window, and as she did, noticed a strong smell of ammonia in the air. The smell sent a wave of fear over her, which caused her stomach to knot over, as she realised its significance.

  The pungent odour could mean only one thing; the aliens were here too.

  Amber studied the fields on either side of the motorway. All she could see was dead or dying grass. The normally green fields were a patchwork of varying shades of brown, fringed with trees that were devoid of leaves. Ironically, dotted around the fields, was the odd bale of hay, similar to the one that had saved her life earlier.

  The huge concrete pylons supporting the suspension cables of the Severn Bridge were now visible in the distance, but they looked odd. Something didn't seem right about them.

  Amber continued on. The time was approaching 4 p.m., and the trip computer showed she had 135 miles remaining in the tank. From her current location, it was 130 miles home, so it would be a close call. She wasn’t overly concerned however as she could always try and siphon more fuel if she had to. She’d done it once, so could manage to do so again.

  Amber drove on, passing the odd stationary vehicle, whose owner had been travelling home, or to work, during the early hours of last Saturday morning, with little clue as to their imminent fate.

  As Amber got closer to the Severn Bridge, the smell of ammonia became stronger. The ominous feeling she had in the pit of her stomach, grew stronger, as she sensed the danger she was certain was lurking nearby.

  CHAPTER 26

  AMBER SLOWED THE Porsche to a crawl, as she approached the bridge. With her view, into the estuary below, now unimpaired, she could see that the river bed was a swathe of brown mud. Whilst the Severn had the second highest tidal flow in the world, she’d never seen it so empty. The river had been sucked dry.

  Huge gelatinous tendrils rose up from the estuary, and had wrapped themselves around the suspension cables on both sides of the bridge, like spaghetti. It felt like she was driving along a suspended walkway, through a dense jungle.

  Daylight struggled to find any spaces through the mesh of tendrils that covered both sides of the bridge. Above, the tendrils connected together and formed an opaque canopy that stretched up to the bridge’s huge, cable-supporting, concrete pylons, the first of which she was just about to drive under.

  As Amber passed slowly underneath the first concrete pylon, she looked up and noticed numerous, strange, bulbous objects, like sacks, hanging down from the cross-member section of the support pillars, that were connected by multiple tendrils. The scene reminded her of baubles on some kind of monstrous Christmas tree.

  Amber then sensed something ahead of her and looked back down towards the road. She braked hard, swerving to avoid a red Audi, which had skidded across the fast lane and had ended up at right-angles in the left-hand lane.

  Safely passed the stationary vehicle, her mind focused back onto the car-sized sacks hanging down from the pylons, more of which were dangling under the second pylon, she was about to drive under. There were at least eight of them hanging down, with interconnecting tendrils of varying diameters wrapped around the sacks, and the suspension cables, before trailing back down into the estuary below.

  As she looked up, she saw something, oval-shaped and dark in colour, ripple inside one of the opaque sacks; something that resembled a giant eye. She shuddered, as a wave of fear washing over her. She realised that the sacks were some kind of larvae, or perhaps cocoons for some, as yet, undeveloped creature.

  The tendrils branching off into the river below were no doubt supplying nutrients, and water, to the sacks, acting as umbilical cords. Any hope she had of the Event being confined to London, had left her now. But what she was now witnessing was even more sinister than anything she had seen in London. It appeared like some kind of colonization process of the planet was underway, and the thought that she could be the only human left to witness it, terrified her.

  She started considering how she might end her own life. It had to better a better option than to end up getting hunted down by whatever was developing in those sacks.

  As Amber accelerated away from the central section of the bridge, a white streak in the rear view mirror caught her attention. On the road, lay one of the cocoon sacks, which had just fallen from the pylon cross-member.

  In a motion that reminded Amber of someone fumbling around inside a zipped-up sleeping bag, she caught a glimpse of the surface of the cocoon starting to ripple, before something large, started to rapidly tear its way through the protective cocoon.

  Amber slowed down; and stared, in a mixture of awe and abject fear, into the rear view mirror, as a creature, roughly the size of a horse, but standing on two powerful legs, which were oddly bent oddly at the knee section, emerged from the sack.

  “Oh shit,” Amber whispered, as she screwed up her eyes to try and see more clearly. The creature then did the last thing she expected it to do, move, at an incredible speed, towards her.

  The two-legged, giant, insect-type creature seemed to half-run, and half jump towards her. Amber accelerated off, reaching 60 mph in a few seconds, before changing up into third gear.

  The creature, which resembled a praying mantis, with a head that seemed to be made up of a huge rotating black eye, similar to the beacon of a lighthouse, was now only twenty feet or so behind the car.

  Terrified, Amber slammed her foot down on the accelerator, and hit 100 mph by the time she reached the bridge’s toll booths on the Welsh side. The overhead display LED noticeboard, normally lit with green and red display messages, was without power and the payment kiosks empty.

  The thing was still coming at her. Amber, her reactions being driven purely by the adrenalin surging through her veins, found an empty gap amongst the few vehicles, that had been queuing to get through the tolls, and headed straight for it, ignoring the carbon-fibre barrier that was still down.

  Amber screamed and cursed at the same time, as she smashed through the toll booth barrier at just over 100 mph.

  The window shattered, but the Porsche kept going.

  She stole a glance in the rear view mirror and saw the creature appear to trip, as it smashed through the wrecked tollbooth. It continued forward, stumbling, before it rolled along the motorway carriageway, colliding with the side of a truck that had veered at an angle across the fast lane.

  Amber just saw a blur of movement, as the creature got to its feet again, before she hit 120 mph and finally left it behind.

  Amber waited until she was a good few miles from the bridge, having used up valuable fuel and almost crashing, before slowing down to a more manageable speed.

  She wiped away the perspiration on her forehead, with the back of her hand, and dried herself under her armpits, which were drenched in sweat from the fear coursing through every fibre of her body.

  The first time she’d seen the cocoon things, hanging from the bridge, she’d wondered if the river below and the height of the pylons, had somehow been ideal for their formation. She wondered why they hadn’t formed along the Thames, unless, she calculated, it had simply taken some time for the cocoons to grow. She hadn’t seen the Thames up close after the first day following the Event, and guessed they hadn’t had time to form yet. If that was the case, then the creatures forming on the Severn Bridge could be everywhere.

  The thought made her stomach churn, and she slammed her foot on the brakes, as she suddenly felt acid rise up her oesophagus and into her throat. She brought the car to a stop in the middle of the highway, opened the driver’s door, and vomited bile and stomach acid onto the asphalt.

  Amber poured a small amount of water into her hand and cleaned her mouth and face. She drank a little of the precious liquid and swilled her mouth out, before taking a few gulps. If there was one thing she couldn’t tolerate, it was the taste of vomit in her mouth.

  She t
hen reached for the last, but one, Snickers bar, tore the wrapper off and ate it, removing any remaining taste of vomit.

  She closed the door, put the car into gear, and moved off. The trip computer was now only showing 90 miles of fuel left in the tank, which meant she’d need to siphon more. She’d drive a further fifty miles or so from the bridge, however, before stopping and attempting to refuel, that was for sure.

  A motorway sign told her it was now 30 miles to Cardiff, the Welsh capital. From there, she only had another hour and a half of driving before reaching home. She knew she wouldn’t be any safer when she got there, not after having seen what had just gestated from the cocoon sack on the bridge, but at least she could end her life in a familiar place, and be closer to her parents and everything she’d ever known, when she did.

  CHAPTER 27

  SIPHONING FUEL HAD gone without a hitch, and the Porsche now had around 200 miles of fuel in the tank. It would be plenty to get her to all the way home; to West Wales.

  Amber had driven past the junctions for Cardiff, Swansea and Carmarthen, and she was now just forty miles from home. The house was situated just outside the small village of Johnston, near the Pembrokeshire coast. It was a beautiful part of the world. Calm, tranquil and friendly and, most of all, close to the sea and the stunning views the coastline afforded. Only this time, Amber felt nothing but fear and sadness, as she got closer to home. What would she find there? And would she really be able to end her own life, despite the terror closing in around her?

  The countryside in the remote western part of Wales hadn't been spared the effects of the Event. The normally lush green fields and woodland, on either side of the highway, was struggling to survive in the new environment. Devoid of water, the fields had turned a burnt-brown colour, and the trees were virtually all dead. Instead of a countryside oasis, this small corner of Wales now had an apocalyptic appearance to it.

  Slowly, but surely, the UK was changing. Gone was the world Amber knew. This new world had nothing growing in it, nothing living. It was just horrendous.

  The country roads, en route to West Wales, were normally filled with holiday-makers, cars towing caravans, jet skis, even speed boats. But now the roads were empty, apart from the odd vehicle that had lost control, as its driver was instantly vaporized in the early hours of the final seconds of humanity.

  The once pretty villages, with their filled flower pots and window planters, were all gone. Ghost towns had materialised in their place. It was now just a dead and decaying small part of the world.

  Amber became more and more depressed, as she drove closer to what had once been her home. With a feeling of utter despair setting in, she reached for another cigarette, turning on the radio at the same time. The Bowie CD ejected so she pulled it out and tossed it onto the passenger seat.

  As she pulled the cigarette lighter from the slot, raising it to the end of the cigarette, there was a moment’s interruption in the static coming through the speakers.

  “…calling all frequencies, this is...”

  The male voice died out, giving way to static, which erupted from the speakers once again.

  Amber dropped the glowing cigarette lighter, which fell between her legs, as she heard the sound of a human voice for the first time in four days.

  “Damn!” she yelled, slamming the brakes on and bringing the Porsche to a screeching stop. She jumped out of the car, worried she might get burnt between her legs. As she did, a bolt of pain shot up her leg from her injured left ankle as she twisted it on the surface of the road surface.

  She wasn’t burnt, but the lighter had scorched the leather seat a little. She retrieved it off the seat and nursed her ankle, before getting back into the car and replacing the lighter into its socket. She stared at the radio, which was still emitting static through its speakers.

  "Come on! Come on! Please speak again!” she pleaded, willing for the message to come back on the radio.

  The seconds ticked by, but there was no repeat of the brief message.

  Could I have imagined it? she wondered.

  She reached out to the stereo and hit the seek button, searching up the various frequencies.

  There was nothing but static.

  She then pressed the search button again, this time seeking down the channels, towards the station she’d been on.

  Amber was now gripping the steering wheel; she placed her head onto her arms, and started to cry.

  Suddenly, the static stopped.

  "This is John Brien, calling all frequencies and anyone who might still be out there. Whatever cataclysm has struck, I have survived, and am presently located in..."

  The static returned as suddenly as it had stopped, drowning out the broadcast once again, which had obviously been made by someone with a heavy Welsh accent, possibly someone fairly local.

  “No!” Amber screamed at the radio. “Don't lose it now! Please.”

  Despite trying for twenty minutes, Amber couldn’t locate the broadcast again. “Shit!” she cursed, giving up the search.

  She lit another cigarette before driving off. Picking up speed, as she drove along the country lane, she realised she was now just fifteen miles from home.

  Had someone else survived? Not only survived but was still alive, here, in Wales?

  She couldn’t quite believe it. Perhaps it was an old broadcast. Perhaps whoever had made it was now dead. But that was illogical. The man had referred to surviving the cataclysm. What else could he be referring to? It had to be someone who’d survived the Event, like her, and had made a broadcast recently, within the last few days.

  A glimmer of hope began to creep back, into Amber’s heart and mind, and a renewed sense of purpose washed over her. Regardless of the horrendous creatures that she was now sharing the planet with, she felt better knowing that she might not be alone.

  But, would she ever find the man whose voice she’d just heard? The odds were massively against her, but if she kept the car running she could keep listening to the radio, until she picked up the broadcast again and, then, maybe she’d find out who the voice belonged to, and where he was broadcasting from.

  Amber drove along The Ridgeway, a minor ‘A’ road that ran parallel with the coast, which was just two miles off to her left. She turned left down a narrow country lane, towards the coast, and her family home, in Jameston.

  This small corner of Wales was dotted with caravan parks and camp sites, all within a very short distance from the many beautiful beaches that existed along the rugged Pembrokeshire coast.

  Amber hadn’t seen any evidence of the alien invasion here, but she could sense its presence. Something didn’t feel quite right, and Amber knew that danger was close by.

  Amber manoeuvred the Porsche around a sharp bend in the lane. The bushes that lined the lane, normally thick and green, were now leafless and just a tangle of dried branches. Through the branches, Amber caught a glimpse of a brown field, and beyond, the coast and, thankfully, the ocean. At least the planet’s oceans, which covered seventy per cent of the surface of the Earth, appeared unaffected. It was a small mercy in this new and terrifying world. She wondered if the ocean’s creatures had survived the Event. Could the fish, whales, sharks and dolphins, and countless other wonderful animals, still be swimming around out there?

  As she rounded another bend, she caught sight of something huge, and alien, which appeared to be hovering over the ocean just beyond the coast. It looked like a massive oil platform, but she knew it couldn’t be; there were none off the Welsh coastline. She then remembered the weird object she’d seen in the distance, from The Shard’s telescope, which appeared to be suspended over the Thames Estuary. The thing she just saw, through the dying hedgerow, looked very similar.

  With a growing feeling of anxiety, that perhaps the oceans creatures hadn’t escaped the ordeal Earth’s land dwelling animals had endured, Amber drove the remaining few miles home.

  She reached the small village where she’d spent her childhood, continued pa
st a number of now empty cottages, half hoping to see Mrs Jones outside watering her garden as she always did, but she saw none of the familiar faces she knew so well. All was quiet, like the village had suddenly been abandoned.

  Through the branches of some now dead conifer trees, the stone chimney of her parent’s cottage came into view.

  Amber continued along the deserted road a short distance, before pulling into her parent’s gravel driveway, a feeling of trepidation washing over her, as she thought about what she might find inside.

  CHAPTER 28

  THE GRAVEL CRUNCHED under the Porsche’s tyres as Amber pulled in. She pulled the keys from the ignition and sat in silence, just staring at the cottage. She looked up at her parents’ dormer bedroom window, but the curtains were still drawn. Her father would normally come outside to greet her at this point, but not this evening.

  Her father’s Peugeot was parked in the driveway over to the right. A wheelbarrow with some weeds and cut grass, which had turned brown like hay, had been left by the side gate, a set of secateurs resting on top.

  Amber struggled to stop her tears from flowing, as she visualised her mum and dad, now just piles of grey dust and bone, in their bed.

  She stepped out of the car and quietly closed the door. She felt as if someone, or something, was watching her, despite not having seen anything out of the ordinary since being chased by the alien creature, on the Severn Bridge.

  Amber stepped lightly over the gravel, careful not to make too much noise as she approached the cottage. To the left of the front door was the dining room. She peered in through the large bay-fronted window, but couldn’t see much through the hanging net curtains, apart from the dining room table and sideboard behind, which appeared as normal.