How I Saved the World in a Week

by Polly Ho-Yen

  The body is blocking our path out of the alley to the road. We would need to walk right next to it to keep going.

  I scan our surroundings. I have to make sure that I don’t miss a thing. When I turn to look behind us, the only way out without passing the body, I see there’s a shadow approaching in the distance. Another Grey headed right for us.

  ‘Behind us,’ I manage to say. ‘There’s one coming. We don’t have a choice. We have to go forward. We have to go round… the body.’

  I force myself to take a step forward.

  The person was once wearing a fuchsia-coloured suit but it’s been torn away from behind and so we can see bare skin and the nodules of their spine rising almost like spikes from their back. The flesh has lost its pinkness, its shade is somewhere closer to grey. It looks cold to touch. As soon as I think this, it’s almost like it grows colder as I watch, that the grey is sweeping across the surface and becoming harder and duller and darker.

  Julie takes another few steps forward. She’s right next to the body now.

  ‘Keep going.’ The words are on my lips as the body suddenly convulses in an almighty jerk.

  It is so violent that it’s as though it is levitating. It rises off the ground for just a few seconds and then crashes down with such force that I wonder if it will simply break.

  Then it does it again.

  Julie watches in horror as the body flails beside her.

  Someone whimpers. I’m confused because it’s coming from the wrong direction; that sound, laced in pain, should be from the mouth of this person who’s thrashing in front of us, but it’s coming from beside me. It’s Angharad, who now looks away and cannot bear to watch what we are witnessing. I grip her hand even more tightly and feel hers, in return, clamp into mine.

  The body is now shuddering in deep, jolting waves. An arm flails out and almost hits Julie but she moves out of the way just in time.

  I turn. The Grey down the alley has moved closer still. It seems to flow towards us, supple and sinuous. I can’t stop myself from thinking of a dancer propelling itself through the air, there’s something so graceful and agile about the way the Grey moves. Anwar spots me looking and notices it too, although everyone else is fixated on the body blocking our path.

  ‘We have to go round,’ I say again but even though I know that’s what we need to do, I can’t make myself take another step forward. Each time I try to plot a path past the body, it flails in another direction, blocking me completely.

  ‘Get behind me,’ Steve says. He stands in front of Anwar, Angharad and me and pushes us back. Julie steps next to Steve, joining him in making a wall. ‘Run,’ Steve tells us. ‘Hide. We’ll follow on.’

  ‘There’s a Grey coming,’ Anwar says. ‘There’s nowhere to run. We’re trapped.’

  ‘I’m not leaving you,’ I hear myself say to Steve. I know it doesn’t make sense, because as Anwar has pointed out, there’s no way out, but I need to say it anyway.

  ‘Then we have to go this way. Make a run for it,’ Steve says, pointing past the body to the road as he finally sees the grey shape behind us approaching like a shadow. He takes a shaky step forward but it’s too late.

  The body, the person, the half-person, the half-body, it has started to rise.

  It curls up to standing. I think of a fern leaf unfurling, the shell of a snail uncoiled.

  One moment, its head is thrashing on the ground and the next it’s upright and tall. I watch the body in front of us inspect their hand, their arm, the crook of their elbow, as though it’s only seeing them for the first time.

  For a few moments, it doesn’t seem to even really notice us. Then it takes a step towards the road, extending its leg outwards in one single graceful movement. Maybe it hasn’t seen us and it will keep going, keep moving away from us. My eyes are fixed on its legs, willing them to extend out once more towards the road. We hold our breath, we don’t move an inch. Our only slight movement is that of our fingers as we grasp one another’s hands tightly. My other free hand is back in Anwar’s, who looks at me, his eyes wide and buggy. I can read his thoughts from his face: he can’t believe that this is happening, he can’t believe this is real. We had both seen the Grey in the garages, but this is something else. I feel the same myself and staring at this being doesn’t make it seem any truer.

  It takes another stride away from us so it’s standing on the road now. If it keeps moving then our way out will be clear.

  Steve turns round to me and makes a gesture with his hand to follow him. I shake my head furiously, trying to tell him not to make a move yet, it’s too soon. But he steps forward. Even though I can tell he’s trying to step gently, his foot lands heavily on the ground, it grinds into the stone just a little. Enough to make a sound.

  Then the Grey looks up. It sees us.

  The skin around its face has grown haggard now, making folds around its eyes. Its eyes peer out at us and make me think of endless, bottomless holes, a tunnel that I could fall down but never exit. All I see is emptiness.

  Now it takes a step back towards us and when it opens its mouth, a sound that isn’t human pierces the air. Angharad releases her grip of me to clamp her hands tightly over her ears.

  We huddle together. We grow closer and smaller.

  The Grey moves towards us again and then reaches out as though it is pointing us out. It bellows another noise that I feel as a shudder, ridged and sharp as though it is something I can touch.

  We turn away from it but now the Grey coming down the alleyway is almost on us. We shrink back into each other as much as we possibly can but there’s nowhere else to go. When we turn back to the first Grey, its clawed hand is still pointing towards us.

  ‘We can’t let it touch us,’ I hear Angharad whisper through clenched teeth.

  It leans forward, it’s only steps away from us now, and I close my eyes.

  I wait for the feel of its touch.

  I can sense it amongst us, landing like stones: the realization that it’s too late, that here, we have reached the end. The infection will be in us and we might die from it.

  Or we will never be the same again.

  HOW TO SAY GOODBYE TO THE FIRST FRIEND THAT YOU’VE EVER REALLY HAD

  We hear the car before we see it.

  It roars towards us.

  For a second I wonder if it will hit the edge of the wall, but then it careers off at an angle and runs straight into the Grey blocking our path. The body disappears in front of us as it is bulldozed by the bonnet of the car.

  The driver yells something to us but it’s in another language and only when I see Anwar rushing to the door, do I realize that it is Anwar’s dad, come to rescue us.

  ‘Get in! Get in!’ I yell to the others.

  For a moment they are too stunned to move. It’s Angharad who tugs at her mum and it’s as though that begins a chain reaction: Angharad darts to the car and Julie runs after her and Steve follows Julie. We all tumble into the car.

  Before we have even closed the door, Anwar’s dad starts to drive. The car swerves violently to one side and Steve almost falls out of the door. Julie, Angharad and I are all clinging on to him and that’s the only reason he stays in.

  I just notice through the triangle of the window the grey figure looming. Like the body on the ground, its arm is reaching out for us, pointing towards us, and in that split second I see that it doesn’t just remind me of the fallen man, it is the fallen man.

  I can tell by the arched hunch of his back, the cap that shades his face. His skin is greyer and more mottled now and his legs still flow beneath him. In a single movement he springs up and lunges towards the car with a jump.

  ‘Shut the door!’ Anwar yells.

  Angharad reaches round Steve, her fingers splayed and stretching for the handle, and in that moment I know that if she keeps reaching, the fallen man will have her. His fingers will close around hers and drag her from the car. I pull her back so forcefully that she cries out in alarm and then, holding on t
o the seats, I kick my legs towards the open door with everything I have.

  My feet touch him. He feels like stone, like a wall, but I kick again and again and finally he loses his grip on the car and as Anwar’s dad swerves again, he falls away.

  I see his face though just before he lets go. There’s not just the emptiness that I saw before. I see something else pass through his eyes as he loses his grip and falls away. I think it’s fear, although how can it be when we are the ones running from him?

  I try not to think of it and slam the door shut.

  We are a heap in the back of the car, on top of each other, gasping for breath like fish that have been pulled from the sea.

  Anwar and his dad speak to each other rapidly in Somali. They both sound angry, although when I look over at them I can see that Anwar’s dad has pulled him close, that he is crying.

  The car veers round corners. Anwar’s dad doesn’t slow down until we are out of the centre of the city. There are cars left abandoned on the road; their doors are wide open but there is no sign of anyone who was in them.

  ‘Where do you want to go?’ Anwar’s dad asks us.

  ‘Our house is closer,’ Julie says. Steve nods and she calls out the address to Anwar’s dad.

  Her face is white with shock. ‘Thank you so much,’ she manages to say.

  Our voices unite as an echo of Julie’s. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Those two little words can hardly express all that we feel.

  Anwar’s dad looks over to his son. ‘It was Anwar,’ he says. ‘He persuaded me. To tell you the truth, I didn’t want to come. He made me.’

  Anwar doesn’t say anything. He just keeps looking ahead out of the windscreen.

  ‘Anwar?’ Steve says. ‘Billy’s very lucky to have a friend like you. You really are the best friend I could ever hope he could have. I’m sorry I didn’t see that before. Thank you for being there for him and for all of us.’

  I think Anwar is going to make a joke, that he’ll call Steve ‘Mr G’ in the way he always does but when he looks back at Steve, he doesn’t say a word. His face is tearstained and he just looks at Steve and Steve looks at him and without them speaking, I can see that they understand each other.

  When we pull up outside Julie’s house, we all get out of the car and just stand there. The street is eerily empty but then we hear what sounds like gunshots in the distance and our bodies shake as though we can feel the bullets inside of us.

  ‘We’d better get inside,’ Julie says. ‘Thank you both again, so much. We owe you our lives.’ She nods towards Anwar and his dad.

  Steve looks like he is about to shake Anwar’s dad’s hand but then he leans in and hugs both of them tightly.

  ‘I hope we see you soon,’ he says, and he and Julie disappear into the house.

  ‘See you, Billy,’ Anwar’s dad says to me, just like he always does. ‘Don’t be too long,’ he says to Anwar. He starts the engine of the car and leaves it running, the door open for Anwar to jump straight in.

  ‘So,’ Anwar says.

  ‘So,’ I say back.

  ‘Oh, you two!’ Angharad says. She reaches for Anwar who looks surprised when she hugs him closely. ‘I hate to say it,’ she says. ‘But we were totally, completely right.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Anwar says. ‘I hate being so right all the time.’

  They catch each other’s eye and smile. Then Angharad takes a deep breath. ‘I kind of wish that we hadn’t been.’

  We stand in silence for a moment. No one wants to move.

  In the end Angharad just pulls Anwar in for another close hug. ‘Thanks. Thanks for coming to get us. Now take good care of yourself, Anwar.’

  Anwar smiles at her. ‘You too,’ he says. She walks away into the house.

  Now it’s just the two of us, we are both quiet. What’s just happened feels too big for us to even talk about.

  ‘You saved us!’ I say eventually. ‘You totally saved us. You and your dad. Thank you.’

  Anwar looks at his trainers.

  ‘At least,’ he says, ‘at least your dad doesn’t think I’m so bad any more.’

  I start to laugh. I can’t stop. And then Anwar looks up and grins at me.

  ‘Anwar! Come on!’ Anwar’s dad calls out sharply.

  ‘Give me a minute, Dad,’ Anwar shouts back. ‘He wants to leave Bristol straightaway. Get out of the city,’ he tells me.

  ‘Sounds like a good idea.’

  ‘So – I’ll be seeing you, Billy,’ he says. His warm eyes lock with mine. It’s what he always says after school when we reach his block and I turn down the road towards Steve’s house. Like this is the same as every other normal day.

  ‘Wait! I’ve got something for you,’ I say and I dig around in my backpack. I’ve been carrying it around with me, waiting for the right moment to give it to him – it’s another pocket survival kit that I made just for him. I found a mint tin that Steve had that was the right size and packed into it all the things the book listed you should carry in one.

  Fig. 12. – How to create a pocket survival kit for a friend

  ‘I made one for you – a pocket survival kit – like the one that you helped me with. It might come in useful.’

  Anwar thinks for a moment and then he shakes off his yellow rucksack.

  ‘Take this,’ he says and thrusts a plastic bag into my hand. ‘It might come in useful too.’

  ‘Shall I open it now?’ I ask.

  ‘Look at it later… it’s nothing really.’ I stuff the bag into my own rucksack.

  ‘I’d better go. See you soon, Billy.’

  ‘Wait,’ I say. ‘Remember when I showed you where Sylvia’s Martello tower was on the map? A place called Sandgate. If you need somewhere safe to go, remember you could go there. I don’t know what we’re going to do but I think Sylvia would want me to go there. She’ll be there too, if she can. She’s been preparing for this all along.’

  ‘I hope…’ Anwar begins to say, but then he stops himself as though he has changed his mind about something. ‘I don’t know where Dad wants to go but I remember the place. Thanks.’

  ‘Anwar!’ his dad shouts again. He sounds like he is angry but his eyes reach out in concern.

  ‘Gotta go, man!’

  Anwar jumps into the car and his dad speeds off as soon as the door slams shut.

  I wave and I can’t really see him any more but I imagine that Anwar is waving back at me.

  I wave and wave until the car is out of sight.

  HOW TO (NOT) FALL ASLEEP

  It’s been hours since Anwar and his dad left us, and we haven’t moved from Julie’s living room. We just watched the television churn out more and more information.

  There were endless reports about the infection spreading, on every channel, and the internet was full of videos of people’s transformations into Greys.

  ‘Though it is fatal for most people who are exposed, some seem to be carriers of the virus, transforming and seeming to live on. There is no evidence to show that after the transformation there are any human qualities left. They do not seem to respond to pain, to language,’ a man on the screen is saying. He has rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and is leaning into the camera as he speaks. ‘Those infected must not be seen as people any more. They must be avoided at all costs.’

  The news keeps cutting to government warnings that you should stay inside until further notice, but there are news reports of people saying that they are going to ignore the advice because it isn’t safe to stay in one place any more.

  My mind turns to Sylvia. Whatever Steve said, whatever the doctors thought, she was preparing for something, even if that meant she sometimes went too far… I remember the diagrams of the grey people in the tower again, had she known what was going to happen? And, if so, how? But more importantly, is she still at the hospital, or have they closed it? Maybe she is already at the tower? The questions rush around my head but all I know for sure is I have to get there. If there is a chance she is waiting for me, I
have to meet her.

  Julie turns off the television.

  ‘That’s enough of that,’ Julie says. ‘We all need some sleep. Billy, are you okay on the sofa?’

  ‘I was thinking,’ Angharad says. ‘We should all sleep together, don’t you think? In the same room? For safety?’

  Julie thinks for a moment and then she is all action, giving us instructions.

  ‘This is the biggest room and so we’ll sleep in here. Let’s bring down some of the mattresses from upstairs and we’ve got an inflatable one too. Steve? Can you help me move them? Angharad and Billy, you go grab duvets and pillows and any blankets you can find.’

  It almost sounds like we are just making plans for a slumber party – if it wasn’t for the way that Julie’s voice wavers as she speaks.

  We gather up bedding from upstairs and by the time that we’ve set up the beds, there is hardly any floor space left.

  ‘We just need a campfire and some marshmallows now,’ Steve says cheerfully but no one is really convinced. We all lie down on our makeshift beds, not speaking. It takes a long time for everyone else to fall asleep, but eventually I can tell it is only me still awake. I run through survival techniques in my head to try and keep myself distracted from the memories of the day, the look on the man’s face as he dropped away from the car, the body transforming in front of us. When that doesn’t work, I get up, careful not to make a noise, to find my rucksack. I reach in gingerly and my hand closes around the edge of How to Survive. I turn to the cover where Sylvia made me write down the five Rules for Survival and read them to myself over and over. I can’t even properly see the writing in the darkness, but I know them so well I don’t really need to – just tracing my fingers over them makes me feel calmer.

  HOW TO LEAVE

  The next morning, I watch everyone still asleep beside me. Julie next to Steve: they lie turned towards one other, their legs curved up slightly, their hands just touching. They are mirrored images of each other. Angharad frowns as she dreams and kicks out her legs but then her breathing grows heavier again and she does not wake.