Surviving the Fall: How England Died

by Stephen Cross

  He noticed Amy checking on Annie, who had fallen asleep a few hours ago.

  Amy whispered, “Jack, I think I’m a bit scared.”

  Jack took his eyes of the road for a second to give his wife a reassuring smile. “I know. It will be ok. Look, whatever is happening, I’m sure it will be resolved in a few days. You know the government, always prone to overplay things, to overreact. We are doing the right thing.”

  Amy nodded. “I suppose. It’s best to be away from it, I guess.”

  “Far away. Is she still sleeping?”

  “Yes, I think she… Jack!”

  Jack didn’t need the shout, he had seen it. He slammed on the breaks and managed to swerve past the minibus that blocked half the road. The car slid from left to right and the sound and smell of burning rubber filled the still night air as they tried to grip the road. Eventually they came to a stop.

  Silence.

  “Are you ok?” Jack managed to say to Amy, his heart beating fast.

  Amy was breathing heavily, her face ashen, her hands gripping the side of her seat. She didn’t respond to Jack but quickly looked into the rear seat.

  Amazingly, Annie was still asleep, her arms around Mr Fred.

  “Well look at that, Amy, she’s still asleep,” said Jack. Relief turned into cautious laughter.

  “Oh, thank God. Well done Jack, well done.” She reached over and they hugged for a moment.

  “Look,” said Jack. “You stay here with Annie, I’d best go and check out that minibus. People may be hurt.”

  He opened the car door, but paused as Amy held onto his arm. “Jack…” She looked straight into his eyes. “Jack, maybe we should just go.”

  He looked back at Amy and realised what she was saying.

  But he needed to check the van, someone could need help. It was the right thing to do.

  “I’ll only be a minute, ok? Just a minute. I promise. I’ll go and look, and any problems, I’ll phone someone, and we can go.”

  Amy’s hand dropped off his arm and she lowered her gaze. “Be quick.”

  The night was warm and still, and silent. Jack wondered briefly at the lack of sound, what was missing?

  Insects.

  There were no insects. Maybe the wrong time of year, he thought as he took out his phone and turned on its torch. There were no street lights here and the darkness was complete.

  The minibus was about twenty or so metres from their car and Jack approached carefully, shining his light across the white vehicle.

  The front of the vehicle was wrapped around a telegraph pole that had splintered heavily and was close to collapse. The front and side doors were both open, and a strange paint job marked the side of the minibus. It was empty.

  Jack moved closer and his heart skipped a beat as he realised he was not looking at a strange paint job, but a thick streak of blood.

  That was enough. He turned on his heels and ran to the car. Only now did he realise how much the past few day’s news had spooked him.

  A scream cut into the air. It was Amy. She was calling his name.

  “Amy!” He ran faster. Holding up the torch, he saw two figures around his car, one of them reaching in through the driver’s door.

  He charged and jumped on the nearest figure, pushing it out of the way. He pulled on the torso of the figure leaning into the car.

  The first figure, now on the floor, grabbed Jack’s leg. It was pulling itself closer, and in the split second that Jack had to take in the scene, he was sure he saw the figures teeth gnashing fast, its jaw aiming for his leg. His thoughts paused - news reports, rumours, people eating people, the infected.

  He tried to pull his leg away, over taken with panic, pushing his body against the car.

  The other figure still lay half in the vehicle.

  “Amy!” he shouted.

  “Here!” she screamed in reply, and a shocked Jack could only watch in complete surprise as Amy appeared, her arm wielding some sort of weapon that she hammered down upon the writhing body on the floor.

  It’s skull exploded onto the road and Jack stared at his wife as she straightened up, out of breath from the effort, blood splattered over her face and dress. “On the forum I read, they said you have to get them in the head. I got the one in the car too.” Hanging from her right hand was the wheel jack handle, pieces of flesh hanging from it, dripping blood onto the floor.

  He smiled at his wife, “Amazing.”

  His smile was short lived - Amy screamed as she was grabbed from behind. A head appeared out of the darkness and sank its teeth into her neck. She fell back, dropping the handle with a clatter.

  Another scream, louder, more shrill, but contained; it was from Annie. Jack span round to see his daughter up against the window, her eyes wide in terror as she witnessed her mother being attacked.

  He picked up the handle, and struggling in the darkness to see where the attacker ended and his wife began, he raised his arm and brought it down with speed upon the skull of the figure. Both Amy and her attacker fell to the ground, and Jack reached for his wife, but he was too late.

  Hands grabbed Amy’s ankles and pulled her away from Jack. More figures - people it seemed, covered in blood - emerged from the dark, their arms wrapped around Amy. Their heads bobbed up and down, taking bites out of his wife.

  Her screams filled the air, she called his name, “Jack”, over and over.

  Then there was another scream, as chilling as his wife’s, this one shouted ‘Daddy!’.

  Pulling his eyes away from his dying wife (she’s dying, my God, she’s going), he saw another figure crawling through the front door, trying to get to his daughter.

  For a few seconds, Jack stood motionless, his brain unable to make a decision.

  “Annie!” Amy’s shout disappeared into yells of pain, mixed with the satisfied grunts of the creatures feeding on her, and the sound of ripping tendons and cracking bones.

  Jack ran to the car and pulled on the legs of the creature trying to get in. It turned around swiftly and under the car’s interior light Jack saw the face of an old woman, one half of her cheek hanging off to reveal part of her jaw.

  Jack brought down the handle upon her head and it sank into her skull. The body of the old woman went limp. “It’s ok, Annie, Daddy’s here,” he shouted through gasping breaths, unsure as to whether he was going to scream or cry.

  He pulled out the body and tried to pull the handle out of the old woman’s head.

  It was stuck fast.

  “Daddy!” his daughter screamed.

  Jack looked behind him, and he was surrounded. Five, six, he didn’t know, he couldn’t count, all he knew was his vision was full of blood covered old people, shambling towards him.

  Beyond them lay his wife (she’s gone, beautiful Amy, she’s dead).

  They came closer, moaning, their arms held out, their jaws snapping.

  He couldn’t get past them, he couldn’t get to Amy.

  One of them, the only young one in the group, lurched forward and Jack only just stepped back in time. The young one fell to the ground and started to scramble madly towards Jack’s legs, click-clack-click went it’s jaws.

  Jack scurried into the car and pulled the door shut. He span round and grabbed Annie, pulling her into the front of the car. She shook and sobbed and yelled. He put his arms around her and squeezed her tight - “Annie, Annie, are you ok?”

  Thump, bang, on the windows. They had reached the car and pressed up against the doors in dumb persistence, like flies. Blood from their fresh wounds smeared against the glass.

  “Daddy! Where’s Mummy? The monsters!” Annie could hardly form the words, each syllable punctuated with a cry or a scream.

  Jack looked out into the darkness again, trying to see Amy, but he knew… He gripped the steering wheel and let out a cry, a primal yell. He turned on the ignition, and rammed his foot down hard on the accelerator.

  The engine roared and with a jerk they were moving, and the monsters were gone
.

  “We have to get Mummy! Mummy!” yelled Amy. She leapt into the back seat and stuck her face up against the back window, the noise of her crying filling the car.

  Jack’s tears flowed freely and made it hard to see. He struggled to keep driving, to keep going, but he had to. He had no choice. He had promised Annie he wouldn’t let the monsters get her.

  Jack breathed deep and fast as he steered through the narrow roads towards their destination.

  His hands shook and he felt fear at a level he hadn’t known possible. He reasoned he must be in shock, otherwise how could he function, after what had just happened? Dark horror had broken through to the real world, and taken his wife.

  (Dead, torn apart).

  He glanced in the back seat to see Annie, his little Annie, lying curled up in the fetal position, her body shaking with sobs that grew into full grown cries in horrible waves.

  “Annie, it’s ok, it’s ok, Daddy’s here, I won’t let anything happen.”

  Amy told me not to go, though Jack, and I ignored her. She’d be alive if I’d listened.

  He pulled over to the side of the road and quickly dialed 999. He held the phone up to his ear, nothing. He looked at this phone again, no signal.

  He fought the urge to throw the phone against the floor, to punch the dashboard, to headbutt the wheel of the car until he was dead.

  Jack flinched as he saw movement in the headlights of the car. It was only a fox, trotting happily through the night.

  He started driving again.

  The lights of the holiday park shined brightly ahead. He pulled up to the gates where a few men stood around the barrier. They quickly surrounded his car and motioned him to wind down his windows. Under the lights of the nearby port-a-cabin, Jack saw the stern look on each of the men’s faces. They each carried a weapon of some sort; a baseball bat, a spade, a large knife, a metal bar.

  Jack wound down his window. One large man approached but stopped short by a few metres, eyeing Jack carefully.

  “Where do you come from?” he said.

  “Leeds,” Jack said, and then, unable to stop himself, “They got my wife. I don’t know what they are, I have a daughter…” He felt the tears running down his cheeks and he stared at the man.

  The man said, “Your card?”

  Jack looked at him with the comprehension of a dumb rabbit.

  “Your membership card? Are you a member here?”

  Jack realised what the man was talking about. The security card for the park. He fumbled in the glove box and pulled it out.

  The man took the card and ran it under a scanner by the barrier. There was a beep. He nodded to one of his colleagues in the darkness. The man leaned into the car, “You’re lucky, we’re about to lock this place down. Thought we would wait and catch some stragglers. Get to your chalet… You look in a bad way.”

  The barrier rose.

  “We need the police, my wife is gone,” said Jack

  The man shook his head, “You need to get to your chalet, no-one is coming, not anymore.” He rested his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I’ll come and see you tomorrow.”

  Jack saw a sorrow in the man’s eyes, one that matched his own. “Ok, thank you.”

  Jack drove through the barrier.

  “You ok, Annie? We’re safe now.”

  “Can we get Mummy?” The words hit Jack like a hammer, he had no answer.

  Jack found the chalet and parked up. He sat with the engine idling, feeling dumb, feeling impotent. What was there to do? Why get out of the car? Why?

  He jumped as a figure appeared beside the car. He reached for the wheel jack handle, but relaxed as he heard a soft voice, an old man’s voice.

  “Easy pal, easy… You ok?”

  Jack looked up to see an elderly man in a checked shirt standing beside him, with a torch in one hand and a spade in the other. “No,” said Jack.

  The man nodded. “Ok. I understand. I’m Mike.”

  Mike peered into the back seat and saw Annie. He turned and called into the chalet next door, “Marge, there’s a man and a little girl here. They don’t look so good.” He turned back to Jack. “Come on, we need to get you inside. It’s not safe out here.”

  Jack nodded and got out of the car. He opened the back door and picked up Annie.

  The old man took his arm and guided them into his large chalet. A woman, Marge, assumed Jack, was standing by the door. Her face dropped in sadness when she saw Annie. “Oh my, poor girl.”

  “They got her mummy. Amy. My wife.”

  “You poor people…” Jack was guided to the couch, where he sat down, still clutching onto Annie.

  Mike closed the door and locked it. He turned off the light and they were left with the glow of only a small lamp. “They can get attracted to light.” He turned on the kettle. “We don’t know what they are. They first appeared in the afternoon. We tried to call the police, but there was no answer, the phones all dead, the internet dead. So we’ve just tried to keep them out.”

  Marge wiped a tear from her eye. “You must sleep here tonight. You poor people, your poor little girl…”

  Sunday 21st May, morning, Cornwall

  When Jack woke the next morning he had a few blissful moments of amnesia. His mind hovered in the state between dreams and reality, then the dam holding the awakened world burst and all the memories from the previous day returned.

  He swallowed hard to stop himself from crying out. He felt the weight of Annie next to him, he turned to see her asleep, her peaceful face in denial of the horror that would greet her on waking.

  How she had got to sleep, he didn’t know.

  There were voices outside. Careful not to disturb Annie he slipped out of the bedroom and made his way outside.

  Four men stood by the chalet. Mike and the big man who had let them in last night were amongst them. On seeing Jack they stopped talking and turned to him.

  Mike said, “Are you ok?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Good. This is James,” he motioned to the big man. “He’s the manager of the park.”

  James said, “Hope you slept well?”

  “As well as can be expected.”

  There was silence. The sky was clear and deep blue, birds sang and the sun shone. Jack felt the early warmth upon his skin.

  He said, “What’s going on?”

  James replied, “I don’t know. We managed to lock the park down overnight, everyone helped. We killed over thirty of them. They are still coming.”

  “Can I help?”

  Mike said, “Everyone can help. Just being here is help. What would you like to do?”

  “Keep my daughter safe.”

  James walked over to Jack. “They got my son, yesterday afternoon.” He turned and looked out towards the sea, visible from the porch of the chalet. “But we can make it safe, here. I believe we can. There are only two roads in, we have blocked them with mini-buses and we have a healthy amount of barbed wire - used to keep out the little trouble makers from the village. The danger is the beach, the fences there are weak, but so far only a handful have come from there. We’re getting a group out there to work on it.”

  “What’s happened to the rest of the world?”

  “Who knows. Radio dead, TV dead, no internet. Hell, this holiday park is the rest of the world, for all I know.

  “You want to help with the fences?” asked James.

  Jack said, “I’ll come along, when Annie wakes up. I need to be there when Annie wakes up.”

  James nodded and took Jack’s hand, which he shook. “We’ll see you soon. Good to have you here, Jack. Good to have you.”

  Jack turned and headed back to the bedroom.

  Jack held Annie as she sobbed. He rubbed her head softly.

  “You said there was no monsters,” she said.

  “I know. I’m sorry, I was wrong, honey. Daddy was wrong.” He cradled his daughter and rocked back and forth slowly.

  There was a knock on the door of the bedr
oom.

  “Hello?” said Jack.

  Marge pushed the door open a little, “Hello, I was wondering if you wanted anything?”

  Annie looked up at Marge. “Who are you?”

  Marge gave her a wide smile. “I’m Marge, and I believe you’re Annie?”

  Annie didn’t return the smile. She buried her head back in Jack’s arms.

  “I don’t know what to do,” said Jack quietly to Marge.

  “Just what you’re doing. I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

  Sunday 21st May, afternoon, Cornwall

  Jack joined the group standing on top of a sand dune, looking over the beach. There were five men and two women, James and Mike among them.

  “Hi Jack,” said James, “Everyone, this is Jack.” James introduced him to the rest of the party, but Jack forgot the names immediately. The events of the previous night were still looping through his mind. There wasn’t room for anything else, especially the names of strangers.

  The air and the sea were still. The sand dunes lay between the holiday park and the beach, which stretched for about half a mile in each direction before meeting the headlands.

  A few figures wandered on the beach; disparate, apart, aimless. Infected, guessed Jack.

  “The fence by the beach isn’t strong, we haven’t really been looking after it for the past year or two,” said James. “The posts need to be hammered in further, and we need to wrap an extra layer of barbed wire around the perimeter.”

  “You think that will keep them out?” said an elderly man with a beard and a t-shirt that said ‘Real Ale Club’.

  “I don’t know”, replied James. “But it will be better than we’ve got now. We can do more serious improvements later.”

  James looked over the group. “We’ll walk the length in pairs. See you’ve all got your weapons handy. One of each pair take a sledgehammer for the fence posts. Look out for each other.” A woman and the elderly man sheepishly picked up a sledgehammer. Jack reached forward and took one.

  “Make sure the posts are in tight,” said James. “We’ll do the barbed wire this afternoon.”

  Jack was paired with Ian, an accountant from London who appeared to be in his fifties. Jack pounded in the first post they came across as Ian held it tight, both of them continually checking for nearby infected. The ones on the beach walked aimlessly to the sea and back, heading towards the sand dunes, then heading away. Every now and then, one would disappear into the boundary of the sand dunes.