AUTUMN:
ECHOES
DAVID MOODY
INFECTED BOOKS
www.infectedbooks.co.uk
AUTUMN:
ECHOES
Published by INFECTED BOOKS
www.infectedbooks.co.uk
This edition published 2007
Copyright David Moody 2005
All rights reserved
This book is a work of fiction. The characters and situations
in this story are imaginary. No resemblance is intended between
these characters and any real persons, either living or dead.
Condition of
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by
way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise
circulated without the publishers prior consent in any form or
binding or cover other than that in which it is published and
without a similar condition including this condition being
imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
These stories are also available as part of the Infected Books collection:
AUTUMN: THE HUMAN CONDITION (ISBN 9780955005138)
HOME was originally published in
THE UNDEAD from Permuted Press (ISBN 9780976555940)
Amy Steadman art by Fergal Fitzpatrick 2005
6a-3-0107-1
INTRODUCTION
From AUTUMN: THE CITY
'Listen, can you really say you've stopped to try and appreciate the scale of what's happened here?'
'Well I'
'I hadn't. But something struck me a couple of days ago that puts all of this into perspective. Did you own a car?'
'Never learnt to drive,' Baxter answered, surprised by the question he'd been asked. 'Why?'
'I remember when I brought my first car home. My mother thought it was a death trap and my old dad spent the day outside with me trying to get the engine tuned. I'll never forget that day'
'What point are you making?'
'How many crashed cars have you seen? How many abandoned cars have you seen round here?'
'Hundreds, probably thousands, why?'
'Because somebody owned every single one of them. Every single one of those cars was someone's pride and joy.'
'I'm not sure I understand what you're saying'
'What about your home? Did you own your house?'
'Yes.'
'Remember the feeling when you picked up the key and walked inside? Remember your first night there when it was your house and you could shut the front door and forget about everyone else?'
A faint smile crossed Jack's face as he remembered setting up home with his dear departed Denise.
'God, yes,' he said quietly. 'We had such a laugh. We hardly had anything. We sat on boxes and ate chips from a'
'Just think about the fact that someone had memories like that about every single house you've passed, and chances are they're all dead now. Hundreds of them. Millions of them.'
'It doesn't bear thinking about.'
'But we should think about it. And what about children? Did you have children, Jack?'
He shook his head sadly.
'No, we wanted to but'
'Every single corpse lying and rotting on the streets and every one of those bloody things outside this building, they were all somebody. They were all someone's son or daughter or brother or sister or' Heath stopped talking again. More tears trickled from his tired eyes.
'You okay?' Jack asked, hesitantly. He shook his head.
'This is the end,' he replied. 'I tell you there's no doubt about it, this is the end.'
***
In the AUTUMN novels, the world is torn apart by a disaster of unimaginable proportions. No-one escapes. Everyone is affected. AUTUMN: ECHOES is a series of experiences - a collection of snapshots of lives as they are ended or changed forever. To readers of the novels some of the people and situations may already be familiar. Some of these characters are little more than incidental, through the course of the novels others have played an integral part in the future of the battered AUTUMN world.
Alone and afraid, these people struggle to exist in dead, decaying buildings, towns and cities. In the same way that screams echo through these lifeless landscapes until they disappear, so these stories and situations present the final fading echoes of devastated lives.
These stories are designed to expand and enhance the original novels, and a knowledge AUTUMN, AUTUMN: THE CITY and AUTUMN: PURIFICATION will benefit readers.
This eBook has been revised to include HOME, the AUTUMN story originally published in THE UNDEAD from Permuted Press.
David Moody
January 2007
CONTENTS
Eight months ago Jake Humphries and his family immigrated to
Jake? Jake, is that you?
Mum? Bloody hell, Mum, do you know what time it is?
Are you okay, son?
Apart from being tired because its gone midnight and Id only just managed to get to sleep Im fine. Were all fine. Why shouldnt we be?
Havent you heard?
Heard what? Christ, Mum, its the middle of the bloody night. I havent heard anything.
Theres no need for the language, Jake, we were just worried about you, thats all.
Why?
Are you far from
Its on the other side of the country. Its thousands of kilometres away, why?
Because somethings happened there.
What do you mean? Whats happened?
I dont know. I dont think anyone knows. Your dad and I saw it on the news and
Look, Mum, Im really tired. Youre not making any sense at all
Im sorry, love. Its just that youre all so far away from us here and we worry about you.
I know, I know Anyway, what time is it there?
Just after seven.
What are you doing up so early?
Your dad couldnt sleep. You know what hes like, once hes awake thats it. And once hes up and about I cant relax. He woke me up with his shuffling and his moaning so we both got up and came downstairs. We were watching the news and
And what exactly is it thats supposed to have happened in
Theyre not sure. No-ones saying very much. No-one seems to know very much yet.
So youve woken me up to tell me that no-one knows very much about whats happening in
No.
Well give me a clue then. Has there been an accident or a bomb or?
I dont know. I heard something about a bomb but theyve stopped talking about that now.
So why have you phoned me in the middle of the night? This isnt little old
Im phoning you because theyve lost contact with the city, and all the places surrounding it.
What? What do you mean, theyve lost contact with it?
I know
You cant lose contact with a whole bloody city, Mum.
I know, but they have.
What channel are you watching? Are you sure its genuine? Are you sure its not just a film or one of those drama-documentaries about
Jake, your father and I may be getting on but were not stupid. I know what Im watching. Its the news and its real. Were sitting in front of the television right now. Your fathers next to me. Im only telling you what weve heard, and Im only telling you because were concerned about you, Lucy and the boys.
So tell me again exactly what it is theyre saying.
Your dad says put your TV on, son. Youre bound to have some news where you are. Youre much closer than we are.
Okay, give me a second.
What can you see?
Hold on, thats strange.
Whats strange?
Cant get a picture on some of the channels. Cable must be down. Sometimes this happens when
What about the radio? Try your computer. Try the Internet.
Hang on, heres something.
What are they saying?
Christ, its just like you said, theyve lost contact with the area around Hold on, you said
Yes son, why?
Because the station Im watching here is talking about
Are they saying anything about whats happened, Jake? Do they know why?
Christ, Mum, theyve put a map up. It looks like its spreading out from the west. It looks like
Where are Lucy and the boys?
Lucys here in bed with me, the boys are asleep
You should lock your doors. Dont answer the door if anyone comes. Wait until we know whats
Whats the point of locking the door? Mum, this isnt anything to do with
Jake? Jake, are you still there? Whats the matter, son?
Nothing. Thought I heard something, thats all.
What?
Thought I could hear
Jake? Whats happening, son?
Sorry, Mum, Im going to put the phone down. Look, Ill call you back as soon as I
Whats wrong?
Somethings happening on the other side of the river. Theres a fire. It looks like somethings gone into the front of one of the buildings on the waterfront by the Dont know whats going on. I cant see much from here Hang on a second and Ill try and Shit, thats all I need, the kids are awake now. Bloody hell. Lucy, could you go and? Lucy? Honey, whats wrong?
Whats the matter, son?
Lucy? Dont struggle, honey, lie back and Ill get you a
Jake? Jake are you still there?
Over five thousand miles away, Mrs Humphries listened helplessly to the muffled sounds of her son, her daughter-in-law and her two grandsons choking to death.
Within hours both Mrs Humphries and her husband were dead too.
Part i
Amy Steadman is a twenty-four year old graduate who is the manager of the lingerie department in an exclusive womens fashion boutique located in a busy out-of-town shopping mall. She lives on her own in the town of
Its five-thirty in the morning. Amys alarm has gone off, and shes just dragged herself out of bed.
This morning Amy has to make her quarterly sales presentation to the companys senior management team. She dreads these presentations. She doesnt have a problem with standing up and talking to these self-important, vacuous, grey-suited people, she just doesnt feel comfortable with the way they stare back at her. They are smarmy, lecherous old men and she can feel them undressing her with their eyes. She hates the way they dont listen to anything she says, instead they just watch her. She knows that they fantasise about her. She finds their unwanted interest and their cheap, double-entendre laden conversation offensive and unnecessary but she puts up with it. Its all part of the job.
In Amys line of business appearance is absolutely everything. She walks the shop floor as a representative of the store and the numerous expensive labels it stocks. She knows that she must be perfectly coiffured and immaculately presented at all times. Customers directly associate her with the products she sells. The better she looks, she often thinks, the more chance she has of making a sale.
After a quick breakfast (she doesnt feel like eating much this morning) and a lukewarm shower (she needs to get a plumber in), Amy dries her hair and sits down in front of the mirror to apply her make-up. An exercise in precision application, the make-up is crucially important to her. Far more than just another part of her perfect appearance, it is a mask. She is painting on her work personality and her customer-facing smile. In fifteen minutes she creates a character far removed from the real Amy Steadman who sits in front of the television most nights, eating chocolate and relaxing in old jeans and baggy jumpers. More importantly, perhaps, the face becomes something she can hide behind. The senior managers who stare and leer at her see only the fixed smile, the white teeth and the flawless complexion. They are unaware of the disinterest and contempt she keeps hidden from them.
Less than an hour after getting out of bed, Amy is dressed, psyched-up and ready to go. She leaves her flat and crawls through the early morning traffic, arriving at work in just under fifty minutes.
It is almost eight oclock, and the store is just opening its doors to the first customers of the day.
These shoes are killing me,
Well what do you expect? I sigh.
Youre all right, youve got the height you lucky cow, she snaps back at me. Short buggers like me need all the help we can get. She stops talking and looks over my shoulder. Oh, hang on, stand by your posts everyone, here we go again. Here comes the slime
I turn round and see that our overpaid guests from Head Office are beginning to arrive. My heart sinks.
Morning, Mr Jackson, I smile through gritted teeth as the area manager makes his entrance with his entourage. What a vile and odious little shit this man is.
Morning, Andrea, he grins, getting my name wrong as he does every month. Looking more beautiful than ever!
And you seem to be more of a fucking creep than ever, is what I want to say back to him but, of course, I dont. Instead I just smile politely, force out a little laugh and then relax when
Excuse me, Miss, a quiet little voice says from behind me. I turn round and look down and see an elderly man clutching a negligee, looking more than just a little bit uncomfortable. An odd choice of nightwear unless hes a transvestite or hes married to a gold-digger. I watched a programme on television a while back about women who marry decrepit and desperate men for their money. I can understand why they do it. Most of the men Ive been involved with over the last couple of years havent had any redeeming qualities other than the size of their wallets.
What can I do for you, Sir? I ask, looking around for
I bought this for my wifes birthday last week and she doesnt like it, he croaks.
Judging by the age of the customer in front of me, if his wife isnt a gold-digger then shes most probably somewhere between sixty and eighty years old. Cant imagine Ill want to wear underwear like this at that age.
I see, I say, taking the negligee from him and holding it up. There isnt much of it. Definitely not to be worn in the winter. Didnt she like it? Do you want a refund or?
He shakes his head.
No. Actually I was wondering whether you had it in any other colours, he says as his face turns lobster pink with embarrassment. Hes taken me by surprise. She doesnt like black, he explains, says shed rather have red.
I cant be late for the meeting so Ill have to hand the old gent over to a colleague. Typically theres no-one about. Im about to lead him over to the customer services desk when I stop. Somethings caught my eye over by the main doors. I can see Gary Bright, the area finance director. Hes crouched down on all fours and he looks like hes choking or being sick. Hes dropped his briefcase and its open and there are confidential papers blowing all over the shop. I run over to try and help him. I call for Jenny Clarke whos the duty first aid officer. Christ, someone else is down now. A woman just to the left of me has collapsed against the customer service desk. Bloody hell, she looks like shes suffocating. Her face is red and her eyes are bulging. Shes holding onto her neck and Shit, Shirley Peters from sportswear is lying on the floor at the bottom of the escalator. She looks as if shes just
Oh my God. Whats that?
I can feel something at the back of my throat. Its like Ive got something trapped. I keep trying to clear it but I can hardly swallow. Somethings tickling and scratching the back and sides of my throat and I keep coughing to try and clear it away. I need to get some water. Its still there. It wont go. Stronger now. Christ, it feels like someones got a hand round my neck. Need to get help. Jesus it hurts. Its stinging and burning. Bloody hell, I cant swallow. I cant breathe.
Slow down.
Oh God, I can taste blood in my mouth.
Dont panic. Slow down. Try and breathe. Try and
Starved of oxygen, Amy fell back into a rail of expensive designer dresses, pulling half of the display down on top of her. She gagged and retched as blood seeped and dribbled down the inside of her inflamed throat. Unable to focus, she was momentarily aware of frantic, terrified movement all around her.
Quickly suffocating, she clawed at her neck and then began to thrash about as the remaining oxygen in her blood stream was rapidly used up. Already numb and unresponsive, she felt no pain when her flailing arms and legs smacked against the hard marble floor and the metal display units around her.
Her mouth and chin now covered with blood, she tried to stand but couldnt. The world became dark and the screams around her became muffled and then silent. The terrifying, claustrophobic panic which filled her mind disappeared.
Less than a minute after becoming infected, Amy Steadman was dead.
Fucking hell, Im in big trouble. I cant believe Ive been so stupid. Christ, Im never going to get out of this one.
There are mistakes and there are mistakes. There are small mistakes and minor indiscretions that you can brush under the carpet and there are fucking huge mistakes that you know are going to cost you big time and haunt you for the rest of your life. This is a fucking huge mistake. It was a moment of madness. It was a really bloody stupid thing to do.
Im in a hotel room. It only took me a couple of seconds to get my bearings after I woke up. Im here on a course from work. This is day two of five. The way things are going it could be my last day in the job. Its a quarter to eight and the first session of the morning starts in less than an hour. Ive missed breakfast but that doesnt matter. I couldnt eat anything. I feel sick to my stomach. The problem is, this isnt my hotel room. My room is next door and I shouldnt be here.
Im keeping as still as I can, lying on my side and looking out of a crack in the curtains at a dull and rainy morning outside. Im trying to work my way back through the events of last night to try and remember everything that happened. Were here for the week Monday morning through until lunchtime Friday. There are seventeen of us here from different outlets up and down the country. We had a formal meal last night to break the ice and to get to know everyone, then we moved into the bar. And that was where we stayed. I got talking to a couple of lads from up north, and then I ended up with two girls who work in my area. Id met one of them before, but I didnt recognise her friend. Turns out she was Helen Hunter the daughter of Bill Hunter, my area director and one of the hardest, most unforgiving and ruthless bastards you could ever have the misfortune to come across. My missus, Chloe, works in his office.
And heres where things begin to get really, really complicated and unpleasant. I havent plucked up the courage to check yet, but Im ninety-nine percent sure that this is Helen Hunters bed. And Im equally certain that Helen Hunter is in it with me. Whoever it is thats lying next to me, shes just wrapped her arm around me and now shes started kissing my neck.
Keep calm. Just try and keep calm and get things into perspective. Am I sure its Helen? Im having trouble remembering last night clearly. I remember sitting in the bar with the two girls, drinking heavily. I was starting to get to the stage where you really know youve had a few drinks and your body starts to try and tell you to stop. Sometimes the beer plays tricks on you the alcohol sort of waits for a while and then creeps up and rushes you all of a sudden. Id been fine all night but suddenly I could feel myself going and I knew Id reached the point where having another drink would have been a mistake. I know I stopped in the bar for at least two more pints after that. One of the girls finally got up and went to bed and I remember being left there with the other. It was definitely Helen. The rest of our group were long gone and we were the only two left in the bar.
We were having one of those conversations where you start discussing things you know you shouldnt be talking about. She started telling me about her relationships and then moved on to her sexual likes and dislikes (concentrating more on the likes). I started to get more and more uncomfortable and, at the same time, more and more excited. She was flirting with me (okay, I was flirting with her too) and I remember thinking that I was going to have to try and be a bit more distant in the morning because we have a whole week to get through together and I didnt want to give her the wrong impression. Problem was that by that time Id already done more than enough.
I remember finishing our drinks and leaving the bar. We walked through the lobby together and went up to our rooms. We walked down the same corridor together and I started to get jumpy because I thought she was following me. I stopped outside my room and took out my key and she did the same with the room next door. She made some cheap comment about fate and coincidence and destiny or something and I just mumbled because my brain had long since stopped functioning properly. I remember thinking that I should just go into my room, shut the door and go to bed but I was having one of those moments where my body had decided that it was going to completely ignore whatever my brain tried to tell it to do.
Helen Hunt is a cheap (but good-looking) tart with a reputation for sleeping around and being a marriage-breaker. I was screaming silently at myself to turn and run but my nervous system seemed to have gone into meltdown, leaving my genitals in full control of the rest of my body. So instead of walking away from her I walked towards her. She wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered something filthy in my ear. I couldnt remember what it was she said, I just remembered smelling her perfume and the booze and feeling her breath tickling the side of my face. We started to kiss. One kiss, then another, then another and another until we were practically eating each others faces. My hands started to wander. I grabbed her backside and pulled her closer. One thing quickly led to another and and thats why Im in trouble now.
It has to be said though, what I remember of last night was damn good. She lived up to her reputation. She was half-undressed by the time wed made it onto the bed and I was completely undressed seconds later. The lights were full on and the curtains were open but neither of us cared. All I could think about was fucking her senseless. There was no hint of passion, just sheer lust and physical need. It felt like just minutes, but I remember looking at the clock on the bedside table at one oclock, then two and then three. At some point one of us had turned the lights off and wed finally fallen asleep.
Despite the fact that what Ive done is wrong whichever way you look at it, it was bloody good. Just lying here thinking about what she did to me is making me feel horny again
Weve got half an hour before the course starts, a whispered voice says from behind me. She wraps her arms tight around me and starts to drag her nails across my chest. It hurts but Christ, its really turning me on. I should try to be strong and say no but whats the point? The damage has already been done. Theres nothing I can do. Might as well lie back and enjoy it
She rolls me over and I find myself looking up into Helen Hunters face. She looks fucking beautiful an absolute gem. For a second its easy to forget that Im married and that the woman Im in bed with is the precious daughter of my boss boss. I cant think straight. All I can do is react that what shes doing to me. Now shes sliding down underneath the covers. Shes biting my chest and licking me and shes not stopping there. Shes going lower. I put my hands behind my head and lie back and get ready to take it.
Quarter past eight. Its over and all of the sudden excitement and lust has gone. Now all I feel is stupidity and regret. What have I done? Why have I done it again? Helens grinning at me like an idiot but then, compared to me, shes got nothing to lose. Chances are Ive already lost everything. How the hell am I going to be able to look Chloe in the face now? After the last time I promised her this would never happen again. I know I mean nothing to Helen and its just been a bit of fun for her. Im just another one of her victims, another conquest. Shes renowned for it and I should have known better. Shell walk away from this without a bad word being said against her and Ill take all the flack. If Bill Hunter finds out then Ive had it. Ive probably just thrown away my marriage, my house and my career for one night of sex. What a fucking idiot.
Shit, what the hell do I do now? Shes moved and Im left lying on the bed on my own, looking up at the ceiling and trying to work out how Im going to bluff my way out of this one. Easiest thing would be to grab my stuff from the room next door and do a runner but I know I cant do that. I just cant believe Ive been so stupid again. This is definitely the worst yet. Ive never done anything this bad before. Actually, the first night Chloe and I spent together was pretty similar in a lot of respects but this is different and this was a mistake. Ill talk to Helen now and tell her that it meant nothing.
Shes in the shower. Despite the fact that weve just spent the night together and Ive already explored every available inch of her naked body I now feel embarrassed because shes undressed. I dont want to look at her but I cant help myself and she knows it. Shes flirting with me again. Bloody woman knows that Im watching her and shes going to make me pay for it.
Look, I say, clearing my throat, we need to talk.
She doesnt answer at first. I dont know if she can hear me over the noise of the shower. Ill have to raise my voice although thats the last thing I want to do. Most of the course delegates rooms are probably on this floor. I dont have any choice. This is a conversation that wont wait. I have to say my piece now.
She peers around the side of the shower curtain, making sure she shows just enough flesh to keep me interested and make me lose my train of thought.
Ill see you later, she smiles, play your cards right and your whole week will be as good as last night.
Im sorry, I try to protest. Youre a really great girl, but I think weve made a mistake. I dont think we should see each other for the rest of the
Shes shaking her head.
Too late for that, she grins. Youre going to learn more in this little room than you will on the course, she promises. Im going to do things to you that are barely legal. Youre mine for the rest of the
She stops talking. The expression on her face changes suddenly.
Whats the matter? I ask, half-thinking that shes just winding me up.
I she stammers, I cant
She grabs hold of her neck with one hand and grips the shower curtain with the other to keep herself steady. She cant breathe. Shes suffocating. Shes trying to breathe in but she cant get any air. Shes looking at me with wide, frightened eyes and I dont know what to do. I just stand there. I cant move. I want to help her but I dont know what to do.
Her legs buckle underneath her and she falls, pulling the shower curtain down with her. Her head hits the faucet with a soft thud that makes me feel sick. Now shes lying in the bath shaking and choking and theres blood pouring out of a gash on the side of her head and washing down the plughole, mixing with the foam and running water. I turn off the shower. Christ, theres blood everywhere. I need to get help.
I run to the bed to get my trousers. My legs are wet from the water thats splashed on me from the shower and I cant get them on. I stumble and trip around the room. I grab the phone and dial for reception to ask them to get an ambulance but theres no answer. No-ones picking up.
Im standing in the bathroom door again now, half-dressed. Helens not moving. Ive got to do something but I cant bring myself to touch her. Christ, I think shes dead. What the fucking hell is happening here?
Now I know that I must be a real spineless bastard. Poor girls lying dead in front of me and for a split second I feel relieved. Now I might have a chance of salvaging my life from this mess. I can tell them that I was in the room next door and I heard her fall down so I came in to help and I found her like this
Hold on, maybe that will only make things worse. My things are all over this room. Not just my clothes either, there will be hairs and fingerprints and God knows what else all over the bed and probably all over and inside her too. Fucking hell, what if they say I did it? What if they think I pushed her over in the shower to keep her quiet about what wed done together?
Got to get out of here. Cant stay here any longer.
I grab my things off the bed and run to the door. I try and leave the room but then I see her body again and my conscience tries to make me stop and help her. But Im too fucking scared. I open the door and go out into the corridor.
Theres another body on the floor. Jesus Christ, its a porter. I dont want to get any closer to him. I can see his face and its all twisted and contorted with pain and theres blood on the carpet around his mouth.
Theres another body further down, just outside one of the rooms. Its Steve Jenkins. I sat opposite him at dinner last night.
I cant handle this.
I let myself into my room and sit on the end of the bed.
I cant hear anyone.
I try the phone again but no-one answers.
Im scared.
Ill wait here for a couple of minutes then Ill go and find help.
James Harper cowered in his hotel room for more than two hours before finally plucking up courage to go out and look for help. The smell of burning forced him into action. The hotel kitchens were on fire.
He searched the entire building but could find no-one else left alive. His colleagues, the course tutors, the guests and the entire staff of the hotel were dead.
Of all the shifts I have to work, this has to be the one I hate the most. I can handle starting early in the morning and working through the day, I dont mind starting in the afternoon and working through the evening, but this I cant stand sat here from one in the morning until nine. Its not too bad at weekends because theres usually plenty going on, but on mid-week days like today the time drags. Theres no comparison, this is definitely the worst shift, and today its even worse than usual. There are usually always two of us in on lates but Stefan called in sick so Ive been sat here on my own for seven and a half hours. This morning theres been nothing to do and hardly anything to see. Between two and three oclock the pubs and clubs were clearing out so there was some activity on the streets for a while, but after that everything went quiet until around seven-thirty. Thats when the daily crowds of commuters started to arrive and that was when I had to start paying attention to the screens again. This job is all backwards I want to be busy at the start of my shift, not at the end of it when Im too tired to concentrate. By seven-thirty my eyes are starting to go. Okay, so the works not physically tiring, but sitting here in front of seventeen screens watching CCTV footage of a shopping centre, an office block and the surrounding streets is enough to put anyone to sleep. Still, as I have to keep reminding myself, it pays the bills. Just about. Its easy money really. I dont have to do anything much. Even if I see something suspicious all I have to do is call the police or centre security. They do all the dirty work. I just sit up here and watch them.
Its just after eight now.
Here we go, first sign of trouble for the day.
The area the cameras cover includes all the public areas of the shopping centre, the access roads, the main entrances and the reception area in the office block. Theres a driver making a delivery around the back of one of the electrical superstores. Hes just fallen out of the cab of his truck, clumsy sod. Bloody hell, whats wrong with him? He must be drunk. Bloody idiot, he cant even get up. Christ, how can these people let themselves get in such a state and then get behind the wheel? Dont they have a conscience? I think they should be made to Hold on, hes trying to pick himself up again. Hes grabbing at his throat like hes choking on something. Damn, I cant see anyone else around down there to help. Ive got a direct line to the loading bay. Ill try and get someone to go and see him Come on, someone pick up. The lines ringing out but no-ones answering. I cant see whether this blokes been attacked by someone else in the truck or whether hes ill or Hang on. Wait a minute. Theres someone else behind him in the shadows. Now theyre coming out into the open. They must have heard him. Bloody hell, theres something wrong with them too. This person can hardly stand. Hes grabbing at his throat as well.
Will someone please answer the bloody phone.
Shit, on screen seven one of the cleaners working outside the main department store has just collapsed. What the hell is going on here? The two screens Im watching are showing feeds from cameras at opposite ends of the complex. I thought it might have been fumes or something else in the air doing this, but how could the same thing affect three people so far apart, at the same time?
Wait, theres more
Camera twelve is fixed on the public walkway between the music store and the supermarket. Oh Jesus, what the hell is happening now? I think thats Jim Runton, the assistant manager of the supermarket. Hes down on his hands and knees in the middle of the walkway. It looks like hes throwing up. It looks too dark to be vomit. Could that be blood?
No-ones answering this damn telephone. Ill have to try one of the emergency lines linked direct to the police.
Theres Mark Prentiss the head of security now. Hes running back towards the offices. He might know whats going on. Oh no. Christ, now hes slowing down. Hes not going to make it back here. Bloody hell, his legs just went from under him. Hes gone down like the others.
What the hell is causing this?
Theres no answer on the emergency phone either. There should always be someone there to answer the emergency phone. Someone has to be there. Ill try and get one of the security team on their radio. One of them will answer me
The truck driver around the back of the superstore isnt moving now. Hes just lying there, face down on the tarmac at the side of his truck. It looks like hes dead but he cant be, can he? The other person near him isnt moving either.
Still no answer. I cant get any response.
The cleaner outside the department store has stopped moving too.
All I can hear is static on the radios.
Jim Runtons body has been spasming and shaking since I first saw him but now hes still as well. Mark Prentiss is flat on his back and hes not moving either. Theres a pool of blood or vomit around his face.
I can move camera fifteen. Thats the camera which covers the main entrance and the pedestrian approach. Using the controls I can turn it through almost a full circle. There should be crowds of people moving towards the mall from the station now. Ill try and get a better view and see if anythings happening outside
Jesus Christ, I cant believe what Im seeing here. There are bodies all over the place. There are dead bodies all over the bloody place. The streets outside are covered with them. Hundreds upon hundreds of them. Its like theyve all just fallen where they were standing
Ive got to get out of here.
Nothings moving on any of the screens now.
***
Sheri Newton got up from her seat at the control desk and ran out into the small security office immediately behind the observation room where shed spent the last eight hours. She found the lifeless body of Jason Reynolds (her colleague who had been due to take over from her in twenty-five minutes time) sprawled across the cold linoleum floor in front of her, his frozen face and wild, frightened eyes staring hopelessly past her and into space. Further down the corridor a dead security guard was slumped in a half-open doorway. She stepped over the body on the ground, tripping on an outstretched leg, and ran through the silent building until she was out on the street.
Overcome by the disorientating fear and shock of what she had seen and was continuing to see, Sheri fell back against the nearest wall and slid down to the ground. For more than an hour she remained there, fixed to the spot in terrified disbelief, as frozen and still as the countless corpses lying around her.
Her pregnant belly wedged tight behind the steering wheel of her car, Sonya Farley stared at the never-ending queue of traffic stretching out in front of her and yawned. This was the seventh time in nine weeks that shed driven this nightmare journey for Christian. Generally she didnt mind Chris worked hard and he was doing all he could to get everything ready for the arrival of their first child. It wasnt really his fault that hed been needed in the firms Scottish office while the papers and designs hed been working on at home were needed in the central branch. Hed put hours and hours of effort, commitment and concentration into each design and she understood completely why he wasnt prepared to trust their delivery to some two-bit courier firm after all, there were two vital contracts at stake here. But regardless of the reasons why and the logical explanations for her being stuck out on the road for hours on end, today those explanations offered little comfort. At this stage of their pregnancies, Sonya thought, all of her friends were at home with their feet up, resting and getting ready for what was about to happen. And where was she? Going nowhere fast in the middle lane of one of the busiest motorways in the country during the peak of the morning rush hour. And where did she want to be? Just about anywhere else.
Focus on tomorrow night, she told herself. Tomorrow night Chris would be coming home and theyd finally be able to spend some time together. It would probably be their last chance for a while. Theyd planned to go out for a meal and to see a movie. The couple were well aware of the massive upheaval and change they were about to experience in their lives and they both fully realised the importance of making the most of the time they had left before the baby came. The last few weeks had been a struggle, but Sonya could see things getting easier for a time before the birth. A nice warm bath and an early night tonight, she thought, would be just what she needed to get herself ready for tomorrow. Shed missed Chris. She hated it when he wasnt there, especially now at this late stage of her pregnancy. She couldnt wait to see him again.
Something was happening up ahead.
Struggling to shuffle in her seat and move her cumbersome bulk while still keeping control of the car, Sonya peered into the near distance where she could see movement in sudden, unexpected directions. Her heart sank. That was all she needed. She was a couple of miles away from the nearest motorway exit. An accident now would most probably add hours to her journey. Shed been joking with Chris on the phone last night that if he kept making her do this drive shed end up giving birth in the back of the car on the hard shoulder. The idea didnt seem so funny now
Whatever it was that was happening, it was quickly getting worse. Sonya could see the sudden red flashes of the lights of countless hastily applied brakes, burning brightly through the grey gloom of the early morning. Even over the sound of her own cars engine and the radio station she was listening to she could hear strained mechanical whines and squeals as drivers struggled to control their cars. Almost immediately the screaming brakes were replaced with grinding thuds and heavy groans and thumps as vehicle after vehicle after vehicle slammed and crashed into the back of the one in front, literally hundreds of them quickly forming a vast tangled carpet of twisted, wrecked metal along the entire visible length of the motorway.
She had no time to react. It was getting closer now. There was no obvious way to avoid the carnage. Now it was starting to happen all around her.
Forced to slam on her own brakes as the vehicles immediately ahead of her lurched to a sickening halt, Sonya braced herself for impact. She didnt know what she was going to hit, what was going to hit her or even from which direction the first impact would come. All around her every vehicle seemed to be losing control. Just ahead, in the rapidly disappearing gap between the front of her car and the huge pile up which filled the road, cars, vans and lorries were swerving and crisscrossing the carriageway as if their drivers had just given up and stopped trying to steer them. The first collision she felt came from the right as a solid four-wheel drive vehicle smashed into the passenger door behind her, the force of the shunt sending her car spinning round through almost one hundred and eighty degrees so that she found herself facing away from her original direction of travel. Now head on to the rest of the traffic, Sonyas shock and surprise gave way to utter disbelief and abject fear.
An expensive executives car was heading straight for her. For a few short seconds (which felt like painfully long minutes) Sonya watched the driver of the car thrashing about wildly. He was clawing at his neck with one hand, scratching and scraping at it desperately as he struggled unsuccessfully to hold onto the steering wheel with the other. His face was red and his eyes wide with pain. He was choking. Distracted as the car was rocked again by a collision from the left, she turned and looked out through her passenger window. A tanker had smashed into a van which had, in turn, smashed into her. The driver of the van had been hurled through his windscreen and now lay sprawled face down over the crumpled bonnet of his vehicle. His bloodied head slammed down onto the battered metal just a short distance from where she sat. She looked away in disgust and caught a glimpse of the tanker drivers face. The middle-aged mans face was pressed hard against the shattered glass of his side window, frozen in an expression of terrified agony. Dark red blood dribbled freely down his chin, contrasting starkly with the rest of his blanched white face.
The executives car ploughed into Sonya at speed, sending her flying back in her seat and then lurching forward awkwardly. Consumed by a sudden wave of nauseating pain as her distended belly and her baby were momentarily crushed again, she briefly lost consciousness.
In the few minutes that Sonya was unconscious the world around her changed almost beyond all recognition. She slowly woke and cautiously half-opened her eyes. Slumped heavily forward with her face pressed hard against the steering wheel she pushed herself upright, struggling for a moment with the weight of her unborn child. Her own safety was of no concern as, for a few seconds longer, she remained still and closed her eyes again, running her hands over her tender belly until she was sure she had felt the reassuring movements of the baby inside. Her split-second feelings of relief and elation were immediately forgotten when she lifted her head again and looked around.
Apart from the occasional hissing jet of steam rising up into the morning air and smoke and flame from numerous burning vehicles, the world was completely silent and still. Nothing moved. Where she had expected to hear voices and cries for help there was nothing.
Sonya instinctively tried to open the door to get out of her wrecked car. Another crashed car to her right, however, had wedged it shut and she was unable to force it open any more than just a couple of centimetres. The van which had collided with her on the other side prevented her from opening the passenger door. The sunroof seemed the only safe escape route. Suddenly freezing cold and shaking with shock and nervous fear she turned the key in the ignition far enough for her to be able to use the electrics of her disabled car. She lifted a trembling hand and operated the control which opened the sunroof. The sudden, jerking noise sounded disproportionately loud in the oppressively silent vacuum of the grey morning. The tinted window above her slid open before stopping with a heavy thud. Slowly lifting herself up onto her clumsy, unsteady feet she guided her head and shoulders out through the restrictive rectangular opening. She cautiously stood upright on her seat and waited for a moment and wriggled her toes, water retention having swollen her tired feet and ankles. She lifted her arms out of the car and then eased and squeezed her pregnant stomach through the rubber-lined gap. Her arms weak and heavy with nerves, she put the palms of her hands flat on the roof of the car and pushed herself up and out. A few seconds of grunting and straining and she had moved far enough to be able to sit on top of her wrecked vehicle. For a while she just sat there in stunned disbelief and surveyed the silent devastation around her. The carnage seemed endless and without any apparent reason.
The motorway around her was dead in both directions. Whatever had happened had worked its way back along the wide road towards the city. Sonya carefully shuffled around so that she was looking back towards the collection of tall, imposing buildings which she had driven through little more than three-quarters of an hour earlier. For as far as she could see both ahead and behind her the traffic on the motorway was motionless. She deliberately tried not to look too closely at any of the wrecked vehicles although it was hard not to stare. Their drivers were dead. Some remained sat in their seats, frozen and lifeless. Some were burning. Others appeared to have suffered a more violent and inexplicable fate. Many twisted and bloodied corpses lay on the ground in the random gaps between the wrecks of their cars, tankers, lorries, bikes and vans.
A cold autumnal wind gusted along the length of the road, buffeting Sonya and prompting her to move from her exposed position. Overcome by the sheer scale and speed of what had happened, and unable to think about anything but the safety of her unborn child, she carefully pulled her feet out of the car and lowered herself down the windscreen and onto its crumpled bonnet. Using the wrecks of other vehicles she made her way over to the hard shoulder. Once there where the road was a little clearer she began to walk back towards the city. Dark thoughts occupied her mind with every step. What had happened to Chris in all of this?
The city, more than four miles away, was dying too. She could clearly see the destruction, even from a distance. Random explosions ripped through buildings and fire began to quickly spread and take hold. She could see smoke pouring into the early morning air in thick, steady palls, leaving a dirty grey shroud hanging above the devastation.
With her swollen feet already sore, and with the delivery of her baby ominously close, Sonya dragged herself back towards the city in search of someone anyone who could help her.
Given the choice, if they didnt need to get up and go to work, school or whatever each day, many people (probably most) would prefer to spend their mornings in bed. Harry Stayt is not like most people. Harry is up, washed, dressed and ready to run by eight oclock at the very latest, usually much earlier. Harry does not enjoy being cooped up inside. By trade he is an outbound activities instructor, qualified to teach (amongst other things) rock climbing, abseiling, caving, rafting, canoeing, kayaking, mountain biking and hill walking. The summer holiday season has just ended and he has no lessons booked for the best part of the next three weeks. For the first time since early summer he now has some time to himself. Harry being Harry, he intends to spend much of this time undertaking those activities he is usually paid to teach.
Harry loves to run. He rents a small cottage in a village which is nestled on the banks of a large, man-made lake. A single, continuous road of some eight miles in length encircles the eservoir. This is his regular running route.
Harry sat on the front step of the cottage and, as he tied his laces, he looked out over the stunning view which greeted him. There could be no better way to start each day, he decided. The world was silent save for bird song, the rippling of the water on the surface of the lake and the occasional distant rumble of farm machinery and traffic. And if this was favourite time of day, he thought, then early autumn was his favourite time of year; a brief, quiet interlude after the busy summer holidays and before the winter snow and ice brought skiers, snowboarders and others to this area of the country. This morning was picture perfect. The sky above him was a cool, clear, uninterrupted blue and the lush greenery surrounding the scene was slowly beginning to turn. The endless shades of green which had been present all summer had now begun to disappear and had been replaced by yellows, oranges and brittle browns. And the air Christ, even the air tasted good this morning. Cool but not too cold, dry but not parched and with a very gentle breeze which blew at him from across the surface of the water.
Around Harry the population of the small village were beginning their morning rituals and daily routines. As he stood up and closed his front door he looked round at the few small houses and shops nearby and smiled inwardly. What was it about human nature that made people so desperate to trap themselves into strict routines like this? Couldnt they function without this structure? Hed moved as far away as he could from the city to escape from the relentless boredom and monotonous familiarity of the rat-race but even here, out in the middle of nowhere, there was still too much focus on structure and conformity. All around him the same people were doing the same things at the same time of day as they always did. Mrs Rogers was opening the village store as she did every morning, putting the same goods out on display in exactly the same place as always. Her husband was taking the daily delivery of bread, milk and papers. The small school gates were being opened and children were beginning to arrive. It was happening everywhere he looked. In some ways he was no better, he had to admit. He often ran the same route at the same time of day and he always performed a well-rehearsed stretching and loosening exercise routine before going out. Although he wanted to believe otherwise, maybe he was as regimented as the rest of them.
Harry checked the door was locke