How I Saved the World in a Week

by Polly Ho-Yen

  As slowly and quietly as I can, I rise from the sofa and escape the fuggy, warm sitting room, its air thick from sleep.

  I try to message Anwar, but it doesn’t send. The mobile networks must be down. I find the Wi-Fi box back in the sitting room and put the password into my phone as quietly as I can, but all I can hear is soft snores from everyone else.

  Then I look up the name of the hospital that Sylvia was in and find the phone number. I use Julie and Angharad’s landline to try to call it but I just get a blank-sounding tone. Though I hadn’t really thought that I would get through to Sylvia, I can’t ignore the feeling of disappointment welling up inside me. I just hope she’s escaped from the hospital and is on her way to the tower. She said that I would know when it was time to meet her there. She was right.

  When I peer out of the kitchen window, lots of people down the street are loading up their cars. Filling them up with suitcases and bags as though they are going on holiday. What do you take with you that is truly precious? Because we’re at Julie’s all I have is the clothes that I am wearing, my phone, my pocket survival kit and my rucksack.

  I hear voices: Julie’s, Steve’s and Angharad’s. They’ve woken up.

  ‘I think it would be a good place to go,’ Julie is saying. ‘It’s remote, but it has resources. He stockpiles, my dad. There’ll be enough food to keep us all going for a while. I mean, it’s almost like he’s been preparing for this for years. It won’t take us that long to get there, either.’

  ‘But the news is saying that the government advice is to stay inside,’ Steve argues.

  ‘Looks like most people are leaving,’ I say as I walk back in. ‘Anwar told me yesterday that was what his family were doing, and a lot of the neighbours are packing up.’

  Julie walks over to one of the windows at the front and peers out.

  ‘I think we should go too,’ I add. ‘If we weren’t in a city, maybe it would be best to stay where we are, but there could be too many of them here.’

  ‘I agree,’ Julie says quickly. ‘We have no idea how many of the, what did you call them, you two – the Greys? – are here. We should leave as soon as we can.’

  ‘Where did you want to go?’ I ask. ‘I heard you talking about your dad?’

  ‘His farm is quite remote. I think we would be safer there.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘In Wales,’ Angharad says.

  ‘Just a few hours’ drive away,’ Julie adds. ‘I can call him and let him know we’re coming.’

  Steve shakes his head but says, ‘If that’s what you want to do—’

  I start speaking at speed before he can finish, it’s the right move to leave and I don’t want Steve to talk Julie out of it.

  ‘Right, pack only the things that you really need,’ I say to Julie and Angharad. ‘And we’ll need to take food and water.’

  For a moment no one moves, as though we don’t want to leave, but then we all scramble into action at once. Angharad stumbles from the mattresses covering the floor, Julie runs upstairs and Steve and I rush to the kitchen.

  It’s the first time that I have been alone with him since it all began.

  ‘We don’t need to go back home, do we? There’s nothing that we really need to take from there?’ Steve mutters to me as he pulls open the kitchen cupboards. ‘I’m sure this won’t be for long.’ He doesn’t sound certain. ‘And Julie’s dad will have clothes that we can borrow for the time being.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say, thinking of Sylvia’s book tucked carefully into my rucksack. That’s all I need. I feel stronger just knowing that I have it with me.

  Steve continues to rummage through cupboards.

  ‘So, aren’t we going to talk about it?’ I ask.

  Steve looks up. ‘What?’

  ‘That Sylvia was right to get me ready for something big happening. Despite everything you said.’

  Steve closes one of the cupboard doors with a slam.

  ‘There’s not much to talk about,’ he says shortly.

  ‘But—’ I start to protest.

  ‘Billy, look. This is just a completely crazy thing that happened. No one could have predicted it. I know you think it aligns with some of the things that your mum said but it doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean…’ He runs out of words like he’s not even sure what his point is, so instead he gives up and starts pulling at food packets in one of the cupboards.

  I start to feel a wave of anger rise up from the pit of my stomach to the back of my throat. I try to say something back, like how can he say that, or he was wrong to have Sylvia sent away, but the rage chokes me and I let out a cry of pure frustration.

  Steve looks at me in shock and finally I find my words: ‘Why won’t you admit she was right?’

  He ignores me and keeps sorting out the food packets in front of him.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more,’ he says, almost to himself. Then he says it again, louder: ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more.’

  ‘You can’t just pretend that she doesn’t exist,’ I say, the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.

  But he doesn’t answer me and won’t meet my eye.

  We go through the rest of the cupboards in silence. I feel myself prickling with resentment and when he asks me about what food I think we should take, I just shrug. When Julie sees the stash that we’ve collected she says, ‘I was just about to do a supermarket shop… Sorry there’s not more.’

  When neither of us answers her, she looks from Steve to me.

  ‘Everything all right?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes,’ says Steve at the same moment that I say, ‘No,’ and walk out of the room.

  * * *

  Suddenly we can’t leave quickly enough and with every small thing that slows us, I feel a stomach ache growing inside me. Julie makes us all go to the toilet before we leave, even if we don’t need to go. I avoid Steve as much as I can and busy myself with filling all the large bottles that I can find with water, and then ask Angharad to dig through their recycling and wash out old milk bottles and sparkling water bottles to use those too.

  Angharad and I start to pack up the car. It takes several journeys to load it up with all the things that we want to take. The next-door neighbours are doing the same thing. They have two young children who are grasping soft toys and playing on the pavement. The younger one, a boy, is holding a floppy-eared rabbit in one hand.

  ‘But I don’t want to go,’ he protests in a small voice, over and over. The parents smile over at me as they see me heave the heavy water bottles out and struggle to pack them into the boot, and I hear them say to him: ‘See, they’re going on an adventure too.’ I hear the fake cheerfulness in their voices.

  ‘That’s right,’ I say back as lightly as I can. ‘We’re going on an adventure.’

  When I head back inside, Julie suddenly seems reluctant to leave and starts to grab blankets off the sofas.

  ‘We should really get going,’ I tell everyone.

  ‘Come on, Mum,’ Angharad says and gently takes the blankets out of Julie’s hands. ‘We need to leave now.’

  Angharad hasn’t brought much with her but I see the sharp, pointed corner of a photo frame sticking out a little from the top of her bag.

  We slam the car doors shut, one after the other. There’s stuff everywhere in the car, we can’t put our legs down and are squashed up next to each other.

  I look over to the neighbours and see that they, like us, are about to leave. The children are sitting in the back of the car, the father hunched into the driver’s seat, and the mother is dashing back into the house, presumably to grab the last of their things. The boy carrying the worn-out rabbit raises his hand and waves at me. I wave back and try to smile, although it feels like it’s cracking my face.

  ‘Right, here we go,’ says Julie as she starts up the ignition.

  ‘Did you speak to Granddad?’ Angharad asks.

  ‘I couldn’t get through, but I’m sure he’ll be expecti
ng us to come. He’ll know that I’ll think of it because there’s no one who lives that close by – it should be a safe place to go.’

  ‘Granddad won’t be trying to come to us?’ Angharad asks.

  ‘No way – he’d never leave the farm unless he really had to—’ At just that moment, Julie brakes suddenly as a car comes tearing round the corner. We jolt to a stop and everyone is thrown forward.

  ‘Sorry, everyone. I didn’t see him coming.’

  I see Julie’s gaze follow the disappearing car that careens out of sight.

  ‘We’re all okay,’ Steve says. ‘You’re okay, guys, aren’t you?’

  Angharad rubs her forehead a little, which collided with one of the front seats.

  ‘We’re fine,’ she says.

  I turn over in my mind whether I should suggest going to the tower instead of the farm but after what happened with Steve in the kitchen, I keep it to myself. I want to make sure they are all safe, but I know now that I have to find Sylvia on my own. Steve will never understand – he probably wouldn’t even believe me if I said she’s waiting there for me. I’ll get them to the farm and then I’ll go to the tower as quickly as I can. There’s a big part of me itching to get away, that feels sure Steve doesn’t really want me around anyway, that he’ll probably be relieved if I go. But I can’t abandon Angharad.

  * * *

  We don’t meet many more cars at first, but when we reach one of the bigger roads we end up in a traffic jam, full of people leaving Bristol, just like us. They’ve packed their cars up too. Everyone is getting out of the city and no one knows when they will be back.

  I try to text Anwar again but my messages still won’t send. Steve tries to call Julie’s dad but there is only the monotonous dial tone I got when I tried to call the hospital. It’s like we’re cut off from the world even though we’re surrounded by people.

  Our car edges forward slowly.

  ‘We should have gone last night,’ Julie says under her breath.

  Dark, voluptuous clouds gather over us.

  ‘Feels like it’s going to storm,’ Steve says, peering up.

  I see other kids through car windows looking out miserably back at me. The engine ticking over, the stale, warm air of the car, the stuff all squashed around me makes me want to get out of the car, throw open the door to the air.

  I’m not the only one who is thinking this. As the jam crawls to a stop, we see some families get out. They stretch out, making wide star shapes with their bodies.

  ‘Do you want to get out, too?’ Julie asks us.

  ‘No,’ Angharad and I say together.

  ‘It’s probably better that we stay in the car together,’ Steve says quickly.

  I close my eyes. Watching the other families standing outside is only making me feel hotter and more cramped than before.

  Most of the people around us have stopped their engines. If they haven’t got out, they have opened up their doors. They sit on the side of the seats and dangle their legs out. I can hear people chatting to each other, laughter even. It almost feels like we’re just stuck in a traffic jam on a bank holiday, trying to get out of the city. After our frantic departure, it feels too relaxed now, too normal.

  ‘I’ll open my window,’ Julie says. ‘Let in a bit of air.’

  ‘Not too much, Mum,’ Angharad says sharply.

  Julie opens the window a small amount. I can’t even feel any difference that it’s making.

  ‘Maybe we should turn the engine off?’ Steve says. ‘We’ll save on the fuel.’ We haven’t moved forward in ages, not even by a couple of centimetres.

  Julie’s hand moves to the key, her fingers are just about to touch the edge of it, she is only seconds from turning the engine off when it happens…

  That’s when we hear the first gunshot.

  HOW TO HAVE A NEAR MISS

  Everything happens at once.

  Everything happens in just one moment.

  There’s the sound of the gunshot.

  It rings through the air, silencing the gurgle of chat that had been bubbling away.

  It seems to come from behind us, from somewhere in the distance.

  Then there’s footsteps. Desperate running.

  Like a wave that’s mounting, the sounds of panic rise up. They grow and grow, folding in on themselves to make something larger.

  It is all around us. It is everywhere. It comes from every direction.

  I look around at the faces of panic. People start scrambling into their cars, but then they stop, staring at something in the distance. Their eyes widen, they point, they shrink away, but before I can see what they are seeing, Julie is driving away.

  We are propelled forward, jerked by the sudden acceleration.

  Julie pulls around the car ahead of us on to the small space on the side between the barrier and the cars. It doesn’t look like we can possibly fit.

  In places, we don’t. The sides of our car scream as it grates against other cars and the concrete barrier. The doors shake as though we are being squeezed smaller. Angharad and I bundle into the middle of the car to move away from the trembling doors.

  Steve looks round. He sees us, squished together, terrified but all right, and then back to Julie who is hunched over the wheel, her body strained forward as though she can make the car go faster just by her will.

  Other cars are starting to pull out now, but so many of them are stuck in the lanes of traffic. It was only a moment ago, I remind myself, that everyone was standing in the sunshine. It does not feel possible that this is true.

  We speed past the traffic jam.

  The screaming continues behind us. It’s almost like it’s getting closer and part of me worries that the screaming will pick up our car, that it will carry us with its force and discard us to one side when it’s done with us. Greys appear from every angle.

  I can see people falling. They are running away or trying to throw themselves back into their cars but then a Grey catches up to them and they jolt, they stop, they fall.

  The Greys weave through the traffic jam – a silent tide only marked by the screams of those they meet.

  ‘Come on, come on, come on,’ I hear Julie saying urgently. She has leaned forward even further over the steering wheel. She keeps her gaze fixed on what is ahead of her: there is a split in the road – the turning that we were heading for. More cars are moving here – they are screeching as they pull away. They catch the light as their wheels fly and then disappear.

  ‘Your window!’ Steve says, as he spots one of the Greys take a jump towards us.

  Julie hits the button to make the window go up but the Grey pushes its gnarled, hooked claw through the disappearing crack before she can close it.

  It’s stuck there, half of its hand out of the window, the other half twisting and writhing just centimetres from Julie’s face. The Grey looks at its hand for a moment as though it’s puzzled at what has happened.

  You can tell that it used to be a man. There’s the shred of his shirt and his tie still hanging from him, like he was a businessman or something like that. I imagine him in another life, carrying a briefcase, his slightly rounded belly tucked into dark trousers. Drinking a coffee, always being in a hurry, catching a train. But now all he cares about is trying to break into our car.

  The Grey’s fingers are splayed and stretching towards Julie. With every second that passes it looks like his hand is squeezing further through the gap, getting millimetre by millimetre a little closer to her.

  She leans away as far as she can while still trying to hold on to the steering wheel. She doesn’t stop herself from sobbing as she drives, as his twisted fingers stretch ever closer towards her.

  Ahead of us, I see a truck in the jam to the side of us and without thinking too much about what I’m doing, I throw myself forward to the front of the car.

  ‘Billy!’ Steve shouts out in alarm.

  I ignore him and reach for the steering wheel, pulling it down sharply to one side, so that we a
lmost swerve into the traffic.

  The Grey crashes into the truck.

  There’s a terrible cracking sound.

  A sound that is both hollow and sharp.

  A sound of splitting and splintering.

  It feels as though it could be coming from inside me. Like something inside me has broken in two, although I know it’s not me, just that I’m the one that caused it.

  The Grey is crushed in between our car and the truck. I look away, not wanting to see what I’ve caused, but then I make myself turn back to make sure it’s no longer trying to get into the car.

  Julie pulls the car away so sharply that we all tumble to one side; I see the Grey’s bashed body almost embedded into the truck. As we drive off, the arm that had been reaching through the open window tumbles back through the gap, leaving the Grey collapsed on the road.

  It looks like a shadow, lying there.

  I can’t take my eyes from its shape, studying it for any movement, any sign that it might follow us, but it does not stir.

  ‘Are you okay? Are you okay?’ Julie cries out as we drive on.

  ‘We’re all right, Mum.’ Angharad reaches out for Julie and places her hand firmly on her shoulder. ‘We’re all okay. Just keep driving. Don’t stop. You’re doing so well.’

  Our moving car is attracting more Greys. They are rushing towards us, they are running to keep up with us and the remarkable thing is that they are somehow able to. Their legs are circling so fast they look like a blur, they are coming at us from every direction; it won’t be long before they jump on the car, before they bring us to a stop.

  ‘Please, please, please.’ Julie is begging but I don’t know to whom – the car, the Greys, the road. ‘Come on, come on, come on.’

  We are almost at the split. We are almost there.

  The sides of the car screech as they scrape past a narrow gap. We knock a car on one side that spins out slightly from where it was.