by Wood, J N
‘You alright pal?’ a voice shouted.
I stopped rowing and looked up from the wooden floor between my walking boots, to find another boat silently floating alongside me.
That’s why the water was getting rougher.
The boat was twice the size of mine, with a glass windscreen in front of the cabin.
‘What you doing out here?’ the voice asked.
I squinted up at the boat, finding two white haired men looking down at me.
‘I’m just trying to go home,’ I wearily told them. ‘Please leave me alone.’
‘Okay pal,’ the guy on the left said. ‘As long as you’re okay.’
‘Never been better,’ I told them.
‘Okay,’ one of them said. The boat’s engine turned over and it slowly accelerated away.
I continued with my rowing. It was slightly easier now the bigger boat had gone.
I had no idea how long I’d been rowing by the time I was dragging my boat onto a beach. My arms felt like they were about to drop off. The palms of my hands were both blistered. There were no white cliffs at the back of the ugly looking beach I stood on, just some kind of industrial estate or docklands.
As long as this is England I don’t care.
I collected up all of my stuff and trudged across the sand. At the back of the beach I climbed over a wall, dropping six feet into a huge gravelled area. One lonely looking lorry sat in the middle of it. I could see a road and some buildings. I just had to cross railway tracks and a field before finding some kind of civilisation again.
I checked Jack’s phone as I walked. The internet was working. O2 was on the top left corner of the screen.
This must be England then.
I called Joanne, getting her voicemail again.
I ran to the bus stop on the side of the road, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw the words Bus Stop printed on the tarmac.
Thank fuck for that.
An Asda supermarket delivery van appeared on the roundabout up the road. It left the roundabout and starting moving towards me. I was so shocked I raised my hand and waved as it passed. The driver smiled and waved back, then went on her way.
Surely that’s a good sign? If supermarkets are delivering food we must be okay.
There was a car parked in front of a building down the road. Past that building were the White Cliffs of Dover in the distance.
I wasn’t too far away from my intended destination. Roy would be proud of me.
Thinking somebody must be at work in that building, I crossed the road and headed for it, glancing inside the car as I passed.
Well that’s fucking lovely.
A dead body was slumped in the passenger seat. I immediately knew she was dead because her insides were all over her lap and down in the foot well. The metal rod protruding from her left eye was also a clue.
How is there a dead body just left here when Asda are out delivering?
The initial reports of the virus were about it hitting the south east first. Maybe they’re still clearing up.
The door to the building was locked. I peered through the glass but it was too dark in there to see anything.
I tried the car door, the smell inside wafted straight out and into my face. It was revolting, putrid and stale. My empty stomach turned.
I’m starving, but I’m not gonna be able to eat anything if I’m driving this car.
The key was still in the ignition. After having a quick look around me, I went around to the boot and opened it up. Three of those big bags for life were in there. I returned to the woman and dragged her outside. At least the majority of her insides had stayed on her, and not touched the seat.
It felt very wrong doing this after seeing that delivery van.
Fuck it.
After covering what was left of her guts and entrails with the shopping bags, I gingerly eased myself in, trying not to touch anything disgusting. I quickly turned the key in the ignition and lowered all of the windows.
The fuel gauge was almost in the red.
Why didn’t I bring what we had left of Philippe’s petrol with me?
Fuck knows.
I plugged in the phone and typed my postcode into the map app. That sent a thrill of excitement through me. I never thought I’d do that again.
I’ll go the M1 way and like Roy said, hopefully avoid cities. Four hours and forty one minutes. That’s just a blink of an eye. Still need some fucking petrol though, with no money on me.
I turned the radio on.
‘I hope you’re all doing okay and still staying safe at home,’ the cheesy DJ said. ‘Seven weeks now. Seven weeks? Can you believe it? Doesn’t time fly when you’re bored out of your mind at home? I’m here to get you through your afternoon. I’ve got Tiffany coming up, but first, here’s Kanye West with his hit from 2008. This is Love Lockdown.’
I moved the station on before Kanye’s song started. A Taylor Swift song was playing. I turned the radio off.
I checked both ways before leaving the car park, cut across the dual carriageway and turned right.
A few minutes later I drove past a sign telling me I was on the A20, and London was seventy miles away. I overtook two lorries and three or four passed me going the other way. It felt very surreal considering I’d just dragged a dead woman out of her car and then driven it away.
Five minutes later I was approaching a tunnel, the entrance blocked by something green.
I slowed down as I neared it. The green thing was a truck with a canvas back. It looked military. There didn’t seem to be anyone around. Temporary barriers had been placed in front of the truck.
‘What the fuck am I going to do here?’ I sang to myself.
Two soldiers casually walked out from behind the truck, chatting to each other. They sauntered up to the barriers. One of them held his hand out for me to stop.
Shite. Is this just gonna be a repeat of Spain?
I stopped about ten feet from the barrier and put the car in reverse, ready to put my foot down. The rifle was within reach, leaning against the passenger seat. I lowered the window.
‘Fuck that mate,’ one soldier said to his older colleague. ‘I’d get her out of there. You know what happened to my grandma in her nursing home.’
‘It’s difficult to know what to do though innit?’ the older soldier said, before pointing at me. ‘It’s your turn. Go and see to him.’
The soldier spun around and walked towards me, his rifle still across his body, pointing at the ground.
‘Is this essential travel?’ he asked, bending forwards so he could see me.
He looked in his early twenties. They both looked official, not like the two Spanish soldiers.
‘Erm…yes,’ I replied.
His eyes locked onto the rifle next to me. He took two steps back and aimed his gun into my car.
Chapter 28: Florida’s Fault
‘Gun!’ he yelled to his colleague, and then to me, ‘I will use deadly force if you touch that weapon.’
The older soldier was running to the passenger side of my car, his rifle raised.
The soldier on my side ducked down slightly so I could see his face again. ‘Very slowly turn the ignition off, open your door, place your hands on your head and exit the vehicle.’
Fuck’s sake.
I did as I was told, my hands on my head making it harder to climb out. Once I was outside, the soldier ordered me to move away from my car.
The passenger door was opened. The older soldier popped up holding my rifle. ‘It’s not British army issue,’ he said, and looked to me. ‘How did you get your hands on this then?’
How much can I tell them without getting arrested or put into quarantine?
Fuck it. I don’t know.
‘I got it in Spain.’
He started walking around the front of my car, still inspecting the Spanish rifle. ‘And what were you doing in Spain?’
‘It’s where our boat landed. We sailed over from Canada with two Spanish peop
le.’ I don’t know why, but I felt the need to mention Benoit and Aurelie. ‘And two French people.’
The soldier with my rifle stopped by the open driver’s door. ‘You said we.’
‘Yeah another English guy I met in America. Two guys attacked us last night in Calais. He died.’
The soldiers exchanged a brief glance with each other.
‘What about the two guys that attacked you?’ the younger soldier asked. ‘What happened to them?’
‘They also died.’
‘And you didn’t,’ the older soldier stated.
I shook my head. ‘Nope.’
‘Where are you trying to get to?’ the older soldier asked.
‘Leeds. I was on holiday in America when all this started. I’m just trying to get home, have been for the last two months.’
He raised the Spanish rifle slightly. ‘I need more details on how you got this?’
‘Took it from a dead soldier near Bilbao. My two Spanish friends were killed not long after we got to Spain. They were both shot in the street. We needed some protection.’
‘Got any ID on you?’ the younger soldier asked.
‘Nope. My wallet and passport are in Washington State, just near the Canadian border.’
‘Turn around,’ he ordered. ‘No sudden moves.’
I spun around and the younger soldier frisked me.
‘He’s clean,’ he said. ‘You can turn around and lower your arms.’
Just before I turned back around, one of the lorries I’d overtaken earlier stopped behind my car.
‘See to him will you Kev,’ the older soldier said.
Kev nodded and walked past me.
The older soldier slung the Spanish rifle over his shoulder. ‘So let me know if I’ve got this straight. You were on holiday in America when the Florida Virus started. Then you went to Canada. Then you sailed to Spain. Your two Spanish friends were murdered. You then travelled all the way here from there, presumably dropping your French friends off in Paris.’
‘No. Benoit and Aurelie were killed in Spain as well. The same day as Javier and Elena, but later on.’
‘And your English friend died last night?’
‘Yeah, well the early hours of this morning really.’
‘And now you’re going to Leeds?’
‘Yep.’
‘Fuck me sideways. If that’s all true, I think your journey should be classed as essential travel.’ He pointed to his own face. ‘You certainly look like you’ve been in the wars.’ He turned slightly to show me the Spanish rifle on his shoulder. ‘I’m keeping this though. You can be on your way mate. Good luck to you.’
‘Wait a minute,’ I said as he was turning. ‘While I’ve got you. Can you tell me what’s happening here?’
‘At this checkpoint?’
‘The whole of the UK.’
‘We got the virus as well, same as everywhere else.’
I gestured to the lorry behind us. ‘It’s not the same as everywhere else. Everywhere else is fucked.’
‘I don’t know about that. The world isn’t as communicative as it once was. Here though the virus came and went in a few days. Then we had the zombies. They all dropped dead a couple of weeks ago.’
I’m glad he mentioned zombies first. Sounds daft, but I was too embarrassed to ask about them.
‘Where are all the bodies?’ I asked.
‘Body disposal crews. They’re working their way through them all. Don’t worry. You’ll still see some as you head north.’
‘But everything else is normal then?’
He smiled. ‘No mate. We’re still fucked. The economy will never recover. The country was put on lockdown when America first got hit. Most people stuck to the rules, but when we actually got the virus a lot of people tried to run. Scotland, Wales, Lake District. They all wanted to get out of the over populated areas.’
‘But there are deliveries still,’ I said. ‘I saw a fucking Asda van.’
‘The lockdown is still in effect. Those of us left still need to eat. Look mate, I’m sorry to tell you this, but while the lockdown did work to a certain degree, the virus got a lot of us. Including deaths from zombie attacks, it was over sixteen million last week. I don’t check on the numbers anymore, too fucking depressing. This is where it hit first, so Kent got royally fucked. The only people left in the south east are in London.’
‘People are still being killed?’ I asked.
‘The death rate is still going up because they haven’t finished counting the bodies. Nobody is dying from the pandemic any more, just from the aftermath.’
‘Do they know who did it? Was it the Chinese?’
‘They thought it was them,’ he replied. ‘But they got it worse than anyone.’
‘What the fuck? So was it an attack?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine.’
‘But what is the government saying?’ I asked, astounded by his answers.
‘North Koreans, still could be the Chinese, but they don’t really know.’
‘Fucking hell,’ I muttered. ‘What about all the hacking and EMP rumours?’
‘I don’t know anything about that mate. People higher up the ladder than me might know.’
‘Don’t suppose you know anything about Leeds and Middlesbrough?’
‘Nothing specific mate. Everywhere got it. It didn’t discriminate. Anyway, you’re holding everyone up. You should get on your way.’
I turned around to see the lorry driver remonstrating with Kev.
‘Are all the petrol stations still open?’ I asked.
He turned back to me, frustration creeping onto his face. ‘Not all of them. You should find some open though.’
‘Fuck,’ I muttered.
‘No mate,’ he said, misunderstanding me. ‘I said a few are still running.’
‘I don’t have any money,’ I told him. ‘That’s all.’
He looked at my rifle slung over his shoulder and then back at me. ‘I’m going make a few bob on this Heckler and Koch,’ he said, rummaging around in his trouser pocket. ‘Here have…’ He paused to count the notes in his hand. ‘There’s thirty five quid. Should get you home.’
This is no time to be proud. I gratefully took the money.
He is taking my rifle.
‘Cheers mate. That’s very kind of you.’
He dragged one of the barriers to the side of the road. ‘Right, on you go. Try not to be outside at night. It’s a different world out there now. The police are stretched.’
I thanked him and got back in my car.
The cars headlights flicked on automatically when I entered the tunnel.
From what he said, this sounds much better than I was expecting. I thought it was definitely gonna be America all over again.
Sixteen million. Joanne isn’t gonna be one of those.
Try not to be outside at night. The digital clock read 18:53. I’m definitely gonna be outside at night. That fucking boat trip took a lot longer than I expected.
The A20 became the M20, eventually taking me up to the M25. There were a lot of vans and lorries on the roads, but only a handful of cars.
The sun went down as I was driving clockwise around the M25. The other vehicles on the road had been becoming fewer and fewer with every passing minute. Now I just saw the odd set of headlights here and there.
I really needed to get some petrol. The fuel gauge was almost at empty. I only had nine miles before I was turning onto the M1.
There was footbridge going over the motorway up ahead. The words FUCK FLORIDA had been spray painted on it.
I don’t think you can really blame the state of Florida. They were probably just talking about the actual virus.
There are some people up there. Maybe they just wrote it.
The gentle thrumming of my tyres rolling along the tarmac vanished, and a loud booming noise filled my ears. Pieces of glass ricocheted around the inside of the car. The booming noise was replaced with the sound of metal scraping along m
etal, so loud it was unbelievable.
Fuck, my eyes are closed, clamped shut. My face is scrunched up so much it’s painful.
I forced my eyelids open.
There’s another car in front of me.
Chapter 29: Brick
Everything hurts. I don’t think there’s a single part of me that’s uninjured.
Fucking hell. I think I crashed the car. If I keep my eyes closed I might go back to sleep and it’ll all be fine. I’ll just be back on the road, driving along and minding my own business. That other car won’t appear from out of nowhere and smash into me.
What happened before that though? Glass everywhere, something crashing through the windscreen, horrific metallic scraping noises. Why would I crash into the barrier on the side of the motorway? Did I fall asleep? I didn’t sleep much last night, and then I rowed halfway across the English Channel. I’m bound to be a bit tired.
I opened my eyes. It hurt just to do that. I looked at a starry night sky. Was I thrown from the car? I was wearing my seatbelt.
I tried to ease my head off the ground. The car was next to me. I had indeed crashed it into the back of another car.
Fuck me I’m cold. Where’s my coat gone? I was wearing a jumper as well, not just this t-shirt. And where are my walking boots for fuck’s sake?
What the fuck is going on here?
The fear and confusion forced me to stand on my socked feet. I slowly spun around, looking for some clues. There was something on the passenger seat of my car. A fucking huge rock filled the seat.
Why is that there? Did it fall in there when I crashed into the car?
The other car was empty, but like mine it also had a big hole in the windscreen.
Fuck Florida.
The people on the bridge.
The fucking Fuck Florida fuckers dropped a big rock onto me from the Fuck Florida footbridge.
Mother fuckers. I’m almost home. Why are they doing this to me?
I put my hand in my pocket. Empty. They took my thirty five quid. Jack’s phone was missing from where I’d left it on the dashboard. I looked on the floor, in case it had only fallen. It was gone, along with the cable. The boot of the car was also empty. They took my bag and The Smasher.