Infected- The Beginning

by Perry Stevenson

  We had just picked up the A41. At that time of night, most of the traffic was making its way out of London. Apart from traffic lights and the occasional roundabout, there were no real holdups at all.

  As we started to approach the A501, I noticed blue flashing lights in the door mirror, approaching us very quickly as I approached a right turn. Four police cars passed us, going the same way as us.

  “This doesn’t look good,” I said to the actor.

  “Do you think we will have a problem? I have a meeting at midnight,” he said.

  “Hopefully they are going into London,” I replied. “I did hear something earlier on the news about some sort of disturbance at Marble Arch and Oxford Street, but the Metropole is almost a mile from there.”

  Ahead of us I could see the blue lights taking the slip road to the A5, the Edgware Road, the same direction as we were going.

  “The bad news is that the police cars are going our way, but the good news is we are nearly there,” I told the man in the back seat, as I saw the satnav telling me to take the next exit.

  As I turned left onto the A5, the Hilton appeared on our right. I indicated to turn right into Praed Street, but realised it was a one-way system and we would be going the wrong way, so continued across the junction and did a U-turn on the other side of the bollards, hoping that nobody was looking. Going back across the junction, I pulled up outside the hotel.

  “Well done, I have time to spare,” announced my passenger. “How much is the fare?”

  I checked the PDA and said, “Eighty pounds”.

  He put a hand into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a wad of notes, counted out £90 and gave it to me saying, “Keep the change”.

  “Thank you very much. Let me get your luggage,” I replied, getting out of the car at the same time as he opened the passenger door and got out of the car. As I was about to open the boot, we both noticed the blue flashing lights again, about 400 yards further down Edgware Road towards Marble Arch. The police cars seemed to be trying to turn round.

  “That’s a strange one,” I said.

  By now the actor had his mobile phone in his hand and was taking photos, or possibly a video. The street lights were quite bright, so he might have got something.

  At that point I opened the boot and extracted the two suitcases, putting them on the pavement.

  “Let me take them into the hotel for you,” I said. Well, he did give me a £10 tip, and you didn’t get that every day.

  “No, I will do it – besides, I want a cigarette first.”

  “OK,” I said.

  By now two of the police cars had been turned around and were heading towards us. As the first one passed us it slowed down and an officer shouted, “Get inside and lock the doors, now!”

  My passenger still had his phone in his hand, holding it in such a way that it was clear he was taking a video. The second police car was now approaching, but moving rather erratically as it neared the junction where I had done the U-turn. It suddenly swerved to the right, completely demolishing the bollard in the middle of the road, and continued across the oncoming traffic. With an enormous bang and the sound of breaking glass, it went through the plate-glass window of the Marks and Spencer store on the opposite side of the road.

  “Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed, and turned to the actor. “Did you get that?”

  “Yes – what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, but I think we should do what the policeman said. I’ll just look to see if the occupants are OK. You’d better get the hotel to call the police and ambulance services.”

  I ran across the road towards the stricken vehicle, which was half-buried in the shopfront window. As I arrived at the scene, I could only reach the rear passenger door, as the front of the vehicle was covered in debris. I looked in the rear seats, where a handcuffed man was leaning forward onto the front seat on my side of the car with his head turned away from me. I tried to open the door but it appeared to be locked. On the other side of the car was a police officer with blood running down his neck. The driver was slumped over the steering wheel. I tried the door again – still no joy. At that moment, the handcuffed man turned towards me.

  “Jesus!” emitted from my lips as an automatic reaction, and I took two steps back. I was greeted by a contorted face, with what should have been the whites of his eyes an abnormally bright red, and very black pupils.

  Recovering slightly, I shouted “Are you OK?” keeping a respectable distance from the vehicle. All I could hear was a rather menacing growling sound, which appeared to come from his misshapen lips. That’s it, I thought, and turned away to look down Edgware Road towards Marble Arch. There were 15–20 people ambling towards me, some of them on the road about a hundred yards beyond the traffic lights. A man and woman were walking on the opposite side of Praed Street towards Edgware Road. I started to walk quickly back towards my taxi, and as I reached it my passenger appeared at the main hotel doors.

  “The hotel cannot get through to the police or ambulance service – they seem to be too busy.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. There’s something bad going on here. I suggest you get back into the hotel and tell the staff to lock the doors.”

  There was an ear-piecing scream from closer to Marble Arch and we both looked in that direction. The couple I had seen earlier had turned right onto Edgware Road heading into London. They were being attacked by the people I had seen earlier coming from the Marble Arch direction. Four of them had reached the couple and were all over the man, while the woman seemed to be frozen to the spot, screaming. The actor and I started to move towards her. But the other people who were walking along the road were homing in too, and one of them grabbed the woman, who went down to the ground. Then three more reached her and two others grabbed the man – there were at least six others who would reach them before we did.

  I shouted to my companion, “Stop, there are too many of them – there’s nothing we can do to help”.

  “Yes, you’re right. I’m going back to the hotel – are you coming?”

  “No, I’m heading back to Stansted. Nice to meet you – and, err, good luck!”

  I started back to the car and my passenger headed for the hotel entrance. As I reached the car I turned and waved at him, just as he was entering the hotel. I glanced down Edgware Road to where the screams had come from, but it had gone silent, and the people who had attacked the couple had left them lying on the ground. Oh shit, they’re heading towards me. Then out of the corner of my eye I detected movement, and as I turned to my left one of them was stumbling towards me, not five yards away. I braced myself for impact, but instead of trying to match force with force I pulled him forward, moving to one side and putting my leg out so he tripped and fell flat on his face. It didn’t seem to have much effect, though, as he turned onto his back and started to get up. I gave him a really good kick in the goolies and he fell back down. Any normal bloke would have been writhing in agony by now, but not this fellah – he immediately started to get up. Time to retreat, I thought, and sprinted for the car before the others could reach me.

  I quickly got into the car, fiddling with my keys in a minor panic. It seemed like an age before the key would fit into the ignition, but finally I turned the key and the engine burst into life. Looking in the rear-view mirror, I was just in time to see someone jump on the back of the car. I could only see his chest at first, as his head and shoulders were above the roof, but as I pulled away he slid down the back and I could see his face – the contorted features and evil-looking bright red eyes with deep black holes just the same as the man in the police car.

  I started to build up speed, leaving the man sprawled out in the middle of the road. I drove beneath the flyover and made an immediate turn to the right, which brought me onto the slip road that joined the A501. Within five minutes I was turning left, heading for the A1. By this time, I was s
tarting to think clearly again, although I noticed my hands were shaking a little. Well, that doesn’t happen every day, I thought, turning on the radio. By now it was just after midnight. I had just missed the main news, so tuned into Heart Radio, hoping to listen to some soothing music.

  The roads were surprisingly clear, especially the M25. I arrived back at the Hilton in Stansted at 1.00 am and tuned the radio to the BBC news. The disturbances in London were now the top story. The police and ambulance services were calling in reinforcements, and the authorities said they expected to have everything under control before the rush hour at 7.00 am. It was time to get something to eat, so I telephoned the office.

  “Hello, it’s James,” I said.

  “Hi James, how are you?” she replied.

  “Is that Julie?” I asked.

  “Yes. Are you going to get something to eat?” she asked. Julia knew my usual routine when I was on the late shift.

  “Yes. Have you heard the news about the disturbances in London?”

  “Yes, I watched the news on BBC iPlayer. Did you see anything when you were there?” she asked. The controllers had very little to do at that time of night, as things generally went very quiet after midnight.

  “Yes, I’ve never been so scared. I’ll tell you all about it when I come back to the office later. Is Roger about?”

  “Yes, he’s at the back of the BP garage, probably fast asleep.”

  “OK. I’ll see you in about an hour and a half,” I said.

  I started the engine and headed out of the Hilton car park for McDonald’s, where I turned in and parked the car. I didn’t like drive-thru, and did like to sit down and eat in comfort. I ordered my Big Mac meal with a hot chocolate, found a table and started my meal – at that time of night it was very quiet, so didn’t have to wait.

  I overheard two people talking about the disturbances in London. They had been to one of the theatres but it seemed they left about 10.00 pm and so missed the trouble. They were having difficulty contacting their friend, who had gone to a nightclub in the city. I think they must have known that I was listening, as the man turned to me and said, “Have you heard anything about the problems in London?”.

  “I’ve just come from the Edgware Road area, less than a mile from Marble Arch,” I replied.

  I gave a brief description of what had happened to me and my fare.

  “That sounds really bad,” the man said.

  “I did listen to the news about half an hour ago, and they think everything will be under control by seven this morning,” I said, trying to give him some hope for his friend – although from what I had witnessed, I was not very confident. By now I had finished my meal.

  “Anyway, I have to get back to work,” I said.

  What I was really thinking was, I’m going to have a sleep at the back of the BP garage. So, after saying goodbye I drove next door and parked up next to Roger, who was already fast asleep. The next thing I heard was my PDA beeping at me with the message, It’s 2.45 am. Are you going home today? Driving round to the fuel pumps, I filled the car up with diesel ready for the next driver and then went into the garage to pay the bill.

  “Hello Johnny,” I said to the large man behind the counter.

  “Hi. You’re a bit later than usual.”

  “Yes, they’ve been overworking us today,” I said, not willing to tell him I had been asleep behind the garage.

  “Have you heard any news about the disturbances in London today?” I asked. “I was in the thick of it around midnight.”

  “Yes, I did hear something on the TV news, but I didn’t take much notice. What happened to you, then?”

  “First of all, is the car wash working?” I asked.

  “No, it’s broken again.”

  I gave him a brief description of what had happened to me in London.

  “Christ, that doesn’t sound good,” he said.

  “The last bit of news I heard was that the authorities expected things to be under control again by seven this morning. See you in three days, then, as I’m on my break now,” I ended cheerfully, trying to make him feel a bit better as I thought most of his family lived in London. I said goodbye and drove back to the office, by which time it had started to rain. That’s good, I won’t be able to clean the taxi.

  I gave the car a quick tidy-up inside, removed my gear and walked to the main doors and down the corridor to the drivers’ office. Roger was there, as it was only 3.10 am and his bus was not due till 3.30.

  “Good morning all,” I said.

  Roger was speaking to Julie through the hole in the wall leading to the main office.

  “Hi James,” they said in unison.

  Julia continued, “So what happened to you today? I heard all sorts of things are going on in London. Tell us.”

  I started by giving the name of the Hong Kong actor I had picked up from Inflite.

  “No!” she said, incredulously.

  I then gave them a brief account of what had happened to me. By this time, it was 3.20 am, so Roger said goodbye and left to catch his bus.

  “OK, Julia I’ll be off – see you in a few days,” I said.

  “See you later.”

  I left the building, got in the Micra and headed for home.

  The drive was going to take me about 35 minutes, so I switched the radio on to listen to the news, finally finding BBC Radio 1.

  The main story was the disturbances in London. Reports were coming in from Liverpool Street station, Stratford in the East End, the Elephant and Castle, south of the Thames, and Heathrow airport. From the information received by the ambulance service, it seemed to be some sort of disease, which was being spread through direct contact with an infected person. It could be a highly infectious form of rabies, but no conclusive tests had yet been completed.

  Some police had been armed, following a few officers becoming infected. That would explain the erratic behaviour of the police car at the Hilton Metropole earlier, I thought. It seemed to me that everything was starting to get out of hand. I’ll see what happens tomorrow, I thought, as they expected to get things under control by 7.00 that morning – although in that latest news bulletin they said nothing about controlling anything. I finally arrived home at 4.00 am, and made myself a cup of tea and smoked a cigarette before going to bed at 4.30.

  Day Two

  Tuesday 13 May 2014

  Mary woke me at 10.30 am.

  “James, I’m going to see my mother today. I hope to leave within the hour – are you getting up?” Her mother lived near Lewisham in South London

  “Yes, I’ll get up,” I said in a rather sleepy voice. No tea today then, I thought.

  “Come on, then, get yourself going,” she added.

  As I started to come round, the night before came back to me.

  “Have you seen the news?” I asked, waking up fast now.

  “No, why?” said Mary.

  “All sorts of things happened to me last night. Let me get dressed and I’ll tell you all about it,” I said, now I had her attention. As the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat.

  “You could make a cup of tea while I’m getting dressed,” I added. There was a 50–50 chance of that happening; on the other hand, two days on the trot might be a bit optimistic.

  “And turn the telly on, so we can get the news at eleven,” I added.

  Mary disappeared downstairs, and I put on my jeans and t-shirt and slipped my feet into a pair of slippers that were at the side of the bed, then went to the toilet and headed downstairs.

  Mary had just turned on the television and was in the process of selecting the 24-hour BBC News channel. As I walked into the kitchen the kettle started to boil, so I made tea for me and coffee for Mary – she never drinks tea and I rarely drink coffee. Mary managed to sort out the television and then walked into the kitchen. I had her co
ffee waiting for her on the table.

  She sat down and said, “What happened last night, then?” I told her about the news bulletins, the Hong Kong actor and what had happened to me outside the hotel in Edgware Road – and was specific about the scary red eyes. We then went into the living room and sat in the armchairs to watch the news.

  The disturbances had now spread from central London to Ilford and Buckhurst Hill. The disease was now well established in south London, and other countries were reporting the same phenomenon. The government’s advice was for everyone to return home and stay indoors and lock their doors – this would, it was hoped, stop the disease from spreading. That might be a problem, however, as most people would already have gone to work. There were also reports that the London underground system was grinding to halt, due to drivers and guards becoming infected and passengers creating mayhem. The authorities were requesting people not to call the emergency services as they were stretched to their limit – from what I had seen the night before, I thought they were sinking fast. The newsreader started to interview a government contagious disease consultant.

  “From what we know so far, infected persons have bloodshot eyes, seem to feel no pain and only attack uninfected people. The disease appears to be spread by direct contact, in most cases by a bite. In fact, that is what they are trying to do – they do not try to hit you in any way. Once their target has been infected, they look for a new one. The disease somehow infects the brain, similar to rabies, but the infected person has an overwhelming desire to infect others. We are currently looking to find the source of the outbreak, but we do not know if it originated in this country or abroad. If anybody has information on this, please contact the Department of Health.” He then gave out a number to ring. “That will give us a better chance of developing a vaccine. We are currently testing blood samples from various subjects. Just a warning – once bitten, the disease seems to take effect within five to thirty minutes. This appears to depend on the person’s immune system and size.”

  The interview over, the newsreader continued.