Meltdown
Part 1
By Nick S. Thomas
Copyright © 2020 by Nick S. Thomas
Published by Swordworks Books
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Chapter 1
Bobby looked out of his hotel window into the near empty street below. He looked at his watch, it was 11am on a Monday in a bustling city, or it would be in more normal times. A delivery truck rolled on down the street as food supplies were delivered. It stopped in sight. The tailgate opened, and three people got out in hazmat suits and began to unload crates for delivery nearby. It was an all too familiar sight to Bobby now. Huge signs hung on buildings read, ‘Do not leave your home,’ with police warnings beside them.
“Another few months of this, and I’m gonna kill someone,” he muttered to himself.
He was going stir crazy stuck in the room, as most people were. It stank of bleach and other chemical products that were readily distributed for people to keep everything as spotless as possible. The city below was empty beside deliveries of essential supplies. He’d never seen anything like it, not even in a war zone. There were signs in the windows of the apartment block opposite. Some were messages of hope. One read ‘Things are going to get better,’ but another read, ‘The end is nigh.’
He sighed as he got back to his workout, keeping himself fit as best he could from the confines of hotel room thousands of miles from home. When he’d finally sweat enough and began to feel the fatigue, he headed for the shower. He had US Marine tattoos across his scarred body. He was in good shape, despite his situation. His clothes were hung up across the room, and it was clear he had not left the room for a long time. He showered off and switched on the television as he began to make some lunch. He looked pale and weary. Not just from the exercise, but from the lack of sunlight and the stress of forced solitude. He was exhausted. Not from the exercise, but mentally from the stress of his situation, the same situation they were all in, but he could hear chatter through the walls from the lucky souls locked up with someone to pass the time. The news came on. It was BBC Scotland live. He carried on making some food as they rarely had anything different or new to say. It was the same old message repeated in a thousand different ways, and yet still he listened as it was some of the only times he got to see another person that wasn’t pre-recorded.
The news anchor was in his forties, yet look ten years older, and no amount of makeup could hide his despair and mental fatigue as he went on.
“The death toll from this deadly virus has risen by 9187 in the last twenty-four hours according to official government statistics. However, experts continue to warn that the total will be far higher as many continue to be buried in mass graves, and people are discovered dead in their homes. The Health Secretary continues to warn that we are not over the worst of this terrible crisis, but that a vaccine is in sight. Meanwhile, hospitals and emergency relief centres all across the country are overwhelmed, with reports that many are dying in the streets as they wait in queues. The Prime Minister is due…”
The news anchor was cut short as Bobby turned of the television with a sigh. He’d heard enough. He wanted to hear about something else. Something other than the dire reality of what was going on out there. He heard the dull echo of shouts in the street. He rushed to the window to see a man and a woman were attacking the delivery team. The truck began to accelerate away, and the man fell out the back as the truck sped away, but he was on his feet and running after it in no time as they all turned a bend a vanished from view.
Bobby shook his head, as he knew this was coming. People were getting anxious and desperate. He felt sorry for them, even if he didn’t condone their actions. But a moment later a police officer ran into view. Bobby’s face turned to concern as he could tell he was not running toward the scene of a crime, but in fear for his life. The officer was wearing a facemask, gloves, and safety glasses. The woman who had attacked the truck rushed after him. She was bloodied now, but ran after the officer in a frenzy. The officer turned, fumbled to get his pepper spray out, and finally turned back and sprayed it in the face of his attacker. It seemed to have no effect at all as she crashed into him, and both went down to the ground.
Bobby slammed his fists on the window in frustration. His instinct was to help, but there was nothing he could do. The officer tried to fight back, but the woman wailed on him with a flurry of blows until finally biting into his throat and ripping it open. Blood spewed out across the street. Bobby was stunned. He’d seen people die before, but not on the street. He looked across the street to see several other people were glued to the windows, watching the graphic scene with morbid curiosity. Yet he looked back to see the woman climb off the dead police officer and rush on.
“What the hell?”
It made no sense. The woman made no attempt to take anything from the officer, and she wasn’t fighting in self-defence.
“Has the world finally gone crazy?”
Yet he was genuinely worried, as everything about it felt wrong. He could understand looting and fighting off the authorities in self-defence, but the hunting of them.
“What the fuck is going on?”
He reached for the TV controller and turned the news back on, desperately in the hope of information. Something had changed, and he knew it. The screen flashed to life to a scene of carnage as seemingly crazy people flung themselves at a line of police. They were attacking with the same ferocity Bobby had seen on the street below. The officers were equipped with riot shields and batons, but they were struggling against a lesser number of frenzied attackers. Bobby had never been in a riot before, but he understood morale well enough, and he knew it wasn’t normal for civilians to go into combat with no fear or concern for their own health.
“What the hell is this?”
He could hear sirens in the distance, more than he’d ever heard at one time. Something big was going down. The news anchor’s voice went on over the violent scene.
“Here at Holyrood at the steps of Parliament the police force is under attack. We at the BBC are struggling to understand the nature of these protests and have been unable to reach the police for comment…”
The anchor sounded rattled and fell silent as they all watched the violent struggle. Batons struck several rioters, and despite bloody head wounds and nasty bruising, were undeterred. One police officer was grabbed and pulled out from the line. One of the rioters grabbed his head and with a quick twist, snapped his neck. The news anchor squirmed, and another of the crew in the background cried out before the feed stopped and went to a BBC logo screen.
“That’s not good.” Bobby went back to the window to look for any other indication as to what was going on. He felt cut off and helpless. He looked about the room for anything he could use as a weapon, though it was slim pickings. He went into the bathroom and spotted a heavy-duty towel rail. He pulled at it with all his strength, but it was firmly fixed. He climbed up the sid
e of the shower and stepped onto the rail, jumping up and down on it. It finally gave way, and he landed on his feet. He picked up the bar. It was solid, but a modest weapon compared to what he was used to. He rushed back to his window as a police car crashed into several people, killing two before rocking to a halt. But the officers didn’t try and get out, as more rioters swamped it, trying to break the windows with their bare hands. The car went into reverse and backed over several more before crushing three against the front of an apartment block, smashing a door open, and accelerating away.
Some of the fanatical attackers ran after the vehicle, but as a cleaner watched in horror from the open doorway, some of the rioters ran at her. She panicked and began to run, vanishing from view as she ran inside the complex.
“What the hell do they want?”
He could hear a hive of activity in the corridor outside his room. He rushed to his door and ripped it open. Several people were running towards the stairs.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re going to help!” A young man who couldn’t have been more than eighteen-years-old ran on excitedly, as eager for a fight as he was to get outside after such a prolonged period of isolation.
“No! Everyone stay put!” Bobby roared.
His commanding voice carried, but it was ignored as the mob went on.
“Shit!” He rushed to the elevators in the hope of getting down there before they did. He punched the call button violently several times and was fortunate to find it was already on his level. The doors opened, and he once against hammered one of the buttons for the first floor.
“Come on, come on!”
He didn’t understand what was going on, but one thing he knew for certain, it wasn’t safe out there. He anxiously tapped his foot as the elevator descended until finally there was an audible ping sound, and the doors opened. He rushed out as the group burst out from a door nearby. He upped his pace and blocked their path by standing before the door and holding out both arms as he faced them.
“Nobody is going outside!”
“Get the fuck out the way, mate!” The man had a thick Liverpudlian accent, and he tried to pull him out of the way, but he resisted.
“This isn’t some local scrap at a ball game. Look at it out there!”
Still the man resisted as the others heckled him, too. Bobby punched the one holding him, not so hard as to do serious damage, but enough to send him reeling back and to lose his grip.
“Listen to me!” Bobby shouted.
His pre-emptive strike had caught all their attention.
“Whatever is going on out there, it’s not natural. Those aren’t looters or rioters! They aren’t after food or water. They just want to kill.”
They were all struggling to get their heads around the idea. Another tried to wrestle with him, but he threw him back.
“Think about this for a minute!” He held up his metal bar, threating them with it.
Sirens rang out, and their attention was drawn to two police vans racing into view with a fire truck in support. More crazed rioters rushed towards them. Riot-equipped police poured out from the vans and quickly formed a wall across the street that they’d partially blocked with their vehicles. The crazed people smashed into their shield line like madmen.
“Look at that, boy!” It was a young man behind Bobby, and he was excited, as if enjoying the show. Several began to clap, elated to see people fighting the police. But Bobby looked on in horror. He didn’t much like authority, but he knew this was not people pushing back against authority. The crowd was wailing on the officers as they tried to hold them off. Tear gas canisters flashed overhead, and they heard gunshots as rubber bullets struck the enraged mob. Yet they did not scatter or run, as one would expect, “Look at ‘em, giving the pigs hell!”
Bobby looked furious as he turned back to them.
“Don’t you get it? That isn’t people fighting back against the system!”
“Looks like it to me. People are sick of this shit, being locked in like criminals all this time,” complained one of the men.
“Yeah, enough of this shit. It’s time we stood up to government!”
“Woohoo!” yelled another as a fire hose was turned on the crowd, and several of them were blasted down the street.
The small crowd behind him was all riled up now, and several of them grabbed him. He locked the arm of one and shoved him away, but four grabbed him at once and threw him aside. They opened the door and rushed out to join the fight, eight of them, while three others stayed inside, too scared to get involved. Bobby pulled the door shut, it auto locking as it sealed. They all watched with anticipation as the men ran across the street. They enthusiastically crashed into the police, and yet one was smashed on the top of the head with a baton and went down unconscious. Two of his friends dragged him away as the others shouted abuse. But as they were dragging him to safety, three of the crazed rioters leapt onto them and started punching and smacking them. The young men struggled to fight back, but it was futile. One had his throat ripped out with a bite, and those still on their feet began to run. One was tackled to the ground and had no hope.
Bobby unlatched the lock of the door.
“What are you doing?” asked one of those beside him in a panic.
“They’re fools, but they don’t deserve to die out there!” He swung the door open.
“Come on, run!”
Only two were still on their feet, but they sprinted with everything they had as some of the Crazies pursued. The two panicked men stormed through the door, and Bobby quickly pulled it shut, just in time as two of their pursuers crashed into the hardened glass. They hissed and snarled at him, and he could see the craziness in their eyes.
“What is wrong with them?” asked one of the men who had backed away from the glass in horror.
“I don’t know, but it’s not good.”
Chapter 2
Bobby watched the two pursuers turn their attention to the police line now they could see no way through the door. They ran on at the line. The police line was holding, but their strikes were doing little to deter their attackers. A few had gone down unconscious from a well-placed headshot, but they seemed to ignore pain altogether.
“What is going on here?” It was one of the strangers who had run out to join the fight. There was horror in his voice, and Bobby got it, because he felt it, too.
“Something has happened to them.”
“What do you mean, something has happened to them?”
“I don’t know, but a group of civilians doesn’t just go psychotic like that and start killing people.”
“What are you saying, they are like zombies or something?”
Bobby shrugged.
“You’re a soldier?” asked another.
“Marine, no longer serving.”
“You see combat?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Then tell us what we are looking at here.”
“I can’t. I’ve never seen anything like it, but I’m telling you, something very strange is going down. Something very, very bad.”
“You don’t think this is isolated?”
“I think if it was, those cops would have a lot more support than they have,” he replied as he saw them retreat towards the back doors of their vehicles.
“What are they doing?”
“They’re running.”
“What?”
They poured back into the vans as rubber bullets and the water cannon were used to keep them at bay, but two of the officers were dragged away into the mob. The engines fired up, and the vehicles raced away, leaving some of the officers behind. A few of them ran on and leapt up to be hauled in as they raced away. The lead van ran straight through several more of the crazed attackers, turned a bend, and vanished down another street. Two of the attackers climbed up onto the fire truck. A fireman standing atop the vehicle blasted one off, but the other seemed to go unnoticed as it took the turn after the police vans and vanished from v
iew. Those in the hotel looked on in horror. None of them could believe what they had just witnessed.
“This is bad, really bad,” said someone behind Bobby, “What does this mean?”
Bobby shrugged as he tried to understand the thought process going through the crazed attackers’ minds. Some of them had vanished in the chase of the police vehicles. Everyone was asking questions.
“I know times have been strange for a while, but this is nuts.”
“What are we looking at here?”
Bobby looked to a TV screen in the foyer, but it carried the same blank BBC screen. He rushed to the desk beside it and fumbled around for a controller. He flicked through the channels, but they either had blank noise or stand-in screens like the BBC. Several of the others crowded around him. It was a strange feeling. He’d not been within two metres of anyone for months, and that was only those delivering supplies to his door.
“What are we gonna do?” asked another of them.
Bobby didn’t know any of their names, but he didn’t much care to know. All that mattered was they were finally willing to listen to him.
“Have you got any weapons?”
They shrugged and a resounding “no” followed.
He shook his head in frustration.
“How the hell can you be empty-handed?”
“This ain’t Texas, mate,” said one.
“Yeah? No shit,” he replied in a frustrated tone, “You need to find something. Get to the kitchen, utility rooms, anything. Knives, hammers, screwdrivers, anything you can use as a weapon.”
For a moment none of them moved.
“Move it, and gather whatever you can!”
They all scattered except one, who rustled about behind the front desk until coming back up with a baseball bat.
“I thought you played cricket,” he joked.
“I don’t think this was here to play games, mate. This is Edinburgh.”
“Well it’s a shit ton better than nothing,” he said enviously as he looked at his meagre steel pole. He rushed back to the front door where two of the Crazies were still looking through at them. He turned a set of keys hanging in the door and pulled them out.
Pandemic Part 1 (The Armageddon Series) Page 1
