Hater h-1

by David Moody

There's no point just lying here. Lizzie and the kids are asleep. It's still dark outside but I get up and shuffle through to the living room. I peer out of the window. The car belonging to the people upstairs still hasn't returned. What happened up there? My mind starts to wander and play tricks. Was there a Hater upstairs? It scares me to think that my kids could have been so close to one of them. I force myself to remember Lizzie's words when we were awake earlier. I have to ignore what's going on everywhere else and concentrate on keeping the people on this side of the front door safe.

  The flat feels colder than ever this morning and the low temperature makes me feel old beyond my years. I fetch some breakfast and then sit in front of the TV. I watch cartoons. I can't cope with anything more serious. Not yet.

  I'm halfway through a bowl of dry cereal and I can't eat any more. I don't have much of an appetite. I feel uneasy all the time and I can't stop thinking about what's happening out there. What the hell is going on? I think about all the unconnected events I've witnessed and the hundreds - probably thousands - of other incidents which have happened elsewhere. No-one can see any connection and yet how can all of these things not be connected? That, I decide, is the most frightening aspect of all. How can so many people from so many different walks of life begin to behave so irrationally and erratically in such a short period of time?

  I look over at the clock and realise that I should be getting ready for work now. My stomach starts to turn somersaults when I think about having to phone in and speak to Tina. Christ knows what she's going to say or what I'm going to tell her. Maybe I just won't phone at all.

  My curiosity and apprehension gets the better of me. I finally relent and switch on the news. Half of me wants to know what's happening today, the other half wants to go back to bed, put my head under the pillow and not get up again until it's all over. And that causes me to ask myself yet another unanswerable question - how will this end? Will this wave of violence and destruction just fade and die out, or will it keep building and building?

  The TV news channel looks different this morning, and for a while I can't put my finger on why. The set is the same and the female presenter is familiar. I don't recognise the man who's sitting next to her. Must be a stand-in. I guess the usual newsreader didn't turn up for work today. Half the staff didn't turn up at my office yesterday. There's no reason why things should be any different for the people on TV, is there? Except, perhaps, the fact that they get paid a hell of a lot more than me for doing a hell of a lot less.

  The news is running on a loop again. It seems to be just the headlines on repeat, introduced by these two presenters. There's no sport or entertainment or business news anymore, and the reports I'm watching are all similar to those we've seen before. No explanations, just basic information. Occasionally the cycle is interrupted when one of the newsreaders interviews someone in authority. I've seen politicians, religious leaders and others being interviewed over the last few days. They can all talk the talk and most of them know how to play up to the camera, but none of them can disguise the fact that they seem to know as little about what's happening as the rest of us. And there are other people who I would have expected to see interviewed who have been conspicuous by their absence. What about the Prime Minister and other top-level politicians? Why aren't they showing their faces? Are they too busy trying to personally deal with the crisis (I doubt it) or could it be that they're no longer in office? Could the head of government or the chief of police be Haters?

  The male newsreader is talking about schools and businesses remaining closed when a sudden flurry of movement in front of the camera interrupts him. He looks up as a scruffy figure carrying a clipboard and wearing headphones stumbles into view. It's a tall, willowy woman who walks back until she's almost standing right against the newsreaders' desk. Is she a producer or director or something like that? She crouches down slightly to make sure the camera is properly focussed on her.

  'Don't listen to any more of this rubbish,' she says, her weary face desperate and tear-streaked. 'You're only being told half the story. Don't listen to anything they tell you…'

  And then she's gone. There's more movement all around her before the pictures disappear and the screen goes black. After a wait of a few more long and uncomfortable seconds the broadcast returns. It's a report about personal safety and security that I've seen at least five times before.

  What is it that we're not being told? That woman looked desperate, like she'd been trying to get an opportunity to speak out for days.

  I phoned the office a few minutes ago but there was no answer. I was relieved when I didn't have to speak to anyone but then I started to panic again when I thought about how bad things must have got if no-one's turned up for work.

  There's nothing else to do now except sit back on the sofa in front of the TV and watch the world fall apart.

  20

  We need food. The last thing I wanted to do was go outside again but I didn't have any choice. The kids and Lizzie have been trapped at home for the last couple of days and the cupboards are almost empty. We should have thought of it sooner. I need to get some supplies before things get any more uncertain out there.

  I have as much cash as I could find in my pocket and I'll see what it will get me. I've always been bad with money. I don't have any credit since I got into a mess with my bank a year or so ago and they cancelled everything on my account. I've got a 'last chance' loan now. Once the payment's gone out on pay day and I've paid the bills I cash the balance and that's what we live on until the next time I get paid. It's two weeks until pay day so I haven't got much left.

  I didn't think about where I was going to go until I'd left the flat. Instinctively I drove towards the supermarket we usually use for our weekly shop but I turned back before I got there. Even though it was early there was already a huge queue just to get into the car park. It's a bad-tempered and busy place at the best of times and setting foot in there today would have just been asking for trouble. Two cars collided in the queue just ahead of me. Someone shunted into the back of someone else. Both drivers got out and started screaming and shouting at each other and I got the feeling that the trouble was about to spread. I didn't want to take any chances. I turned around and drove back towards home along roads which were surprisingly quiet. There's still a fair amount of traffic about, but nothing like the number of vehicles you usually get at this time of day.

  I'm outside O'Shea's convenience store now. It's only a couple of minutes away from the flat. It's tucked away in a side-street just off the main Rushall Road. It gets most of its trade from the workers at a steel factory just around the corner. It stands to reason that if people aren't going to work today the factory will be closed and the convenience store should be empty. They have a fraction of the stock of the supermarket and they charge double the prices but I don't have any choice. My family needs food and I have to get it from somewhere. I park up (further away than usual) and cross the street.

  Bloody hell, as I get nearer to the shop I start to think about turning back again. The building looks like it's in the process of being looted. It's rammed with people and the floor is covered in litter and debris. I force myself to go inside, reminding myself that my family have to eat. Half the displays and freezers are already empty and there's more rubbish and packaging left on the shelves than food. I grab a cardboard box (it's the biggest thing I can find) and start getting what I can. Looks like everyone's had the same idea as me today and they're out panic-buying. I take whatever I can find - cans and packets of food, bottles of sauce, crisps, sweets, spreads - pretty much anything that's salvageable and edible. There's nothing fresh here, no milk or bread or fruit or vegetables.

  The shop is small and the mood inside the hot and congested little building is tense. Shopping always seems to bring out the very worst in people. Today I can taste the animosity and nerves in the air but no-one's reacting. Everybody keeps their head down and gets on with stripping the shelves. No-one speaks. No-one makes any
intentional contact with anyone else whatsoever. An old guy accidentally elbows me in the ribs as we're both reaching up for the same thing. Normally I'd have had a go at him and he'd probably have had a go back at me. We look at each other for the briefest of moments and then silently take what we can. I don't dare start an argument.

  The box is soon two-thirds full with junk. I turn the corner into the last aisle and see two empty check-outs ahead of me. People are just walking past them and there's no sign, unsurprisingly, of any staff. Naively I expected the people I've seen leaving the shop to have paid for the food they were carrying. Should I just take what I've collected? In spite of everything that's happening around me I still feel uneasy at the prospect of walking out with this stuff without paying for it. But I have to do what I have to do. Sod the consequences, I have to think about my family and forget everyone else. This is absolutely crazy. This is looting with manners. Fucking bizarre. I keep loading up the box and edging towards the exit.

  There's a scream. Christ, it's a bloody horrible sound and it cuts right through me. People stop moving and look around for the source of the noise. I can see a woman on the ground just behind me. She's lying in the middle of the aisle covering her face with her hands. I try not to stare but I can't help myself. Someone shuffles out of the way and I can see that there's a child attacking her. A girl of maybe eight or nine, no older, is virtually sitting on top of her, punching her and pulling her hair. Jesus, in one hand she's got a tin of food and she's using it to batter the woman. She lands the tin on her forehead and it immediately swells up in a bloody red welt. The woman is screaming and crying and… and bloody hell, she's shouting out the girl's name. Is she being beaten by her own daughter? For a fraction of a second I think that I should help her but I know that I can't. None of us can risk getting involved. Everyone seems to have come to the same conclusion. Everyone is shocked by what they can see but no-one does anything to help. People cautiously edge forward and work their way around the fight to get out of the building as quickly as they can and I keep walking with them. The woman's out cold now but the kid is still pummelling her face. She's covered in her mother's blood...

  The speed and number of people leaving the building is increasing rapidly. I can feel panic bubbling up under the surface and I keep moving, desperate to get out before it explodes. I look at the empty check-outs as I run past them and feel another momentary pang of guilt before pushing and shoving my way back out into the open and running towards my car. I throw the supplies into the back and then get in and lock the door.

  I start the engine and look back at O'Shea's. Desperate people are flooding out of the ransacked shop now, tripping over each other to get away before the situation inside gets any worse. I stare at the building in disbelief, my head filled with images of my family and of what I've just witnessed. Could any of my children do what I've just seen to Lizzie or me? Worse than that, could we do it to any of them?

  21

  Lizzie asks me if I'm okay but I can't answer. I need to get back inside first. I need to get the food inside then shut the door and lock the bloody thing behind me and never open it again.

  'Are you all right?' she asks again. 'Why were you so long?'

  I run back to the car and grab the last few odds and ends that have fallen out of the rapidly disintegrating cardboard box. I push past her and throw the stuff into the kitchen.

  'Dad,' Ed whines, 'can we have something to eat now? I'm starving…'

  I ignore all of them and concentrate on locking the door and making sure my home and my family are secure.

  'Move,' I grunt angrily at Ellis who is standing right in the middle of the hallway, stopping me from getting through.

  'What's wrong?' Lizzie asks again from the other side of the kitchen table. When I don't answer she starts to unpack some of the food. She looks at what I've brought home and screws up her face. 'What did you get this for?' she says, holding up a jar of honey. 'None of us likes honey.'

  All of the tension and fear that's been building up inside me this morning suddenly comes rushing to the surface. It's no-one's fault, I just can't help myself.

  'I know no-one likes it,' I shout, 'no-one likes any of this fucking stuff but it's all I could get. You should go out there and see what it's like. It's madness out there. The whole bloody world is falling apart so don't start having a go at me and telling me that no-one fucking well likes honey.'

  Liz looks like I've punched her in the face. She's gone white with shock. The kids are all in the kitchen with us now, staring at us both with wide, frightened eyes.

  'I just…' she starts to say.

  'I'm doing the best I can for us here,' I scream at her. 'There are people fighting on the streets. I've just watched a kid beating some woman to death and no-one lifted a finger to help her, me included. It's fucking madness and I don't know what to do anymore. The last thing I need is for you to start complaining and picking holes in what I've done when I feel like I've just risked my damn neck for you lot. I don't ask much, just some space and a little gratitude and understanding and…'

  I stop shouting. Liz is trembling. She's standing there, back pressed against the cooker, and she's shaking with fear. What the hell is wrong with her? I take a single step around the table to get closer to her and she recoils. She slides further away from me, edging back towards the door. And then I realise what's wrong. Jesus, she thinks I've changed. She thinks I'm one of them. She thinks I'm a Hater.

  'No, don't…' I start to say, trying to move closer again, 'Please, Lizzie…'

  She's starting to sob. Her legs look like they're about to give way. Don't collapse on me, Liz, please don't…

  'Stay back,' she says, her voice barely audible. 'Don't come any closer.'

  I try to speak but I can't get the words out. Don't do this to me. I shuffle nearer.

  'Stay back!' she screams again, sliding further along the wall away from me. She reaches the door and starts to push the kids out of the kitchen. She doesn't take her eyes off me.

  'No, Liz,' I say, desperate to make her understand, 'please. I haven't changed. Please believe me. I'm sorry I shouted. I didn't mean to…'

  She stops moving away but she's still unsure. I can see it in her eyes.

  'If you're one of them I'll…'

  'I'm not, Lizzie, I'm not. If I was one of them I'd have gone for you by now, wouldn't I?' I cry. I don't know what else to say. I'm starting to panic but I don't want her to see. 'Please, I'm not sick. I'm not like them. I'm calm. I was angry but I'm calm now, aren't I? Please…'

  I can see that she's thinking hard about what I've just said. The children are peering around the door, trying to see what's happening. Inside I'm screaming but I force myself to stay level and not shout. My head is filled with all kinds of dark, terrifying thoughts. I just got angry, that's all. I'm not a Hater, am I?

  'Okay,' she eventually mumbles, 'but if you shout at me like that again I'll…'

  'I won't,' I interrupt. 'I forgot myself. I didn't think.'

  I still don't know if she believes me. She's looking at me out of the corner of her eye and it's like she's waiting for me to attack her. I'd never hurt her. I'm relieved when she moves back round to the box of food and continues unpacking it. Every couple of seconds she looks up. Every time I move I see her catch her breath and stop.

  'So what happened out there?' she asks, finally composed enough to be able to talk to me again. I don't know where to start. Between us we try and feed the kids while I explain about the queues at the supermarket and what I saw at O'Shea's. I tell her about the looting and about the girl attacking the woman and… and I realise again just how bad things have suddenly got.

  Ellis is snapping at my heels. She's oblivious to the fact that anything's wrong. That's good, I decide. I'm glad. Now that she has her food she's nagging at me to let her watch a DVD. I follow her into the living room. She fetches the film she wants from the cupboard and brings it over. I switch on the TV but stop before I put the DVD i
n the machine.

  'I turned that off about an hour ago,' Liz says. 'Couldn't stand watching any more of it. They keep showing the same thing again and again and again.'

  I sit cross-legged in front of the television and stare at the pictures that flash in front of me. Christ, things are really bad. I've seen a lot of bizarre stuff over the last few days but what I'm watching now scares the hell out of me. Now I fully realise how dire and serious the situation has quickly become. The news has gone. There are no more reports and no more presenters. All we're left with is a continually repeated public information film. My stomach is churning with nerves again.

  'Stay in your homes,' a deep and reassuring male voice announces over stock footage and a series of simplistic graphic images, back at the beginning of the loop again. 'Stay with your family. Stay away from people you don't know…'

  I look up at Lizzie and she looks back at me and shrugs her shoulders.

  'It's all just common-sense stuff. Nothing we haven't already heard.'

  'Stay calm and don't panic.'

  'What?' I protest. 'Stay calm and don't panic? Bloody hell, have they seen what's happening out there?'

  'It gets better,' she says sarcastically. 'Listen to the next bit.'

  'The authorities are working to bring the situation under control. Your assistance and cooperation is required to make sure this happens quickly and with as little disturbance as possible. Temporary controls and regulations are necessary to make this happen. Firstly, if you have to leave your home, you must carry some form of identification with you at all times. Secondly, with immediate effect an ongoing night-time curfew is in place. You may not travel between dusk and dawn. Anyone found on the streets after dark will be dealt with appropriately…'

  Dealt with appropriately? Christ, what's that supposed to mean? Are they going to start locking people up for being out at night?

  'Ensure that your home is secure. Prepare a safe room for you and your family to stay in. Ensure that the door to the safe room and all other access points can be secured and locked from the inside.'