Surviving the Fall: How England Died

by Stephen Cross

  Walton picked up speed as they reached the fence. “Let’s hope this fence has been built in typical army fashion…”

  Lewis held on tight as the thin wire barrier approached, “Walton, you sure you want to-”

  The truck hit with a large metallic clang, and the fence doors flung open, the lock having snapped easily under the weight and speed of the truck.

  Allen lifted the tarpaulin at the back of the truck, watching Zone Lima Delta disappear into the distance. He looked at his watch - fifteen minutes to get some distance. Should be good as long as they didn’t hit any traffic snarl ups.

  The civilians sat around the seats in the dark. Some where crying, some were silent, some where laughing, congratulating the soldiers.

  The truck rumbled through the country side, slowing at times as Walton navigated around a stationary vehicle. Soon they were clear of the woods, and driving through farmer’s fields. The land rose gently, giving Allen a good view of the airfield.

  “What’s going on, Sergeant?” asked one of the men in the back of the truck.

  “I wish someone would tell me,” said Allen. He gave a half smile and looked at this watch, only a minute to go.

  Another man spoke up, “You lot left us! First you don’t let us leave London, then you pile us in a truck, imprison us, and then leave us there with those things!”

  There was a few murmurs of agreement from one or two others, dark frowns on their faces.

  The man, buoyed by the support, continued, “How can we trust you again? How do we know you aren’t taking us somewhere else to lock us up?”

  Allen looked at the man. He was in his mid fifties, a large man with broad shoulders, wearing a tatty brown sweater.

  Twenty seconds to go.

  “I think we need to stop this truck,” continued the man, “and find out exactly where we are going. Pick a leader, I mean, I know you are army and everything, but in this sort of crisis, who’s to say you know best…”

  Allen ignored the man and pulled back the tarpaulin fully. Him and Singh exchanged looks. The large man was sounding more indignant, aware he was being ignored.

  Three jets streaked across the sky, fast and low, the noise drowning out all other sound. A few small bursts of light erupted under each of the jets, and a white vapour trail traced from the jet down into the woods. The jets pulled up and disappeared from view.

  A few seconds later, the woods erupted in fire. Silence for a few seconds, and then a raging whoosh of wind and heat, like the sky itself had caught fire. A massive wall of acrid black smoke rose rapidly into the air, as if being sucked into space.

  Some of the people in the truck screamed as it rocked from left to right.

  “Don’t worry,” said Allen, “It’s only a few napalm bombs.”

  He turned to the group in the back. “The rules have changed, you see that? There ain’t no fucking committees anymore. I’m in charge.” He pointed at the flaming airfield and woods. “That’s what the government have in store. They’re scared, and they’re dangerous.”

  A woman looked at Allen, gripping tight a small child who stared with wide open eyes. “The army tried to kill us. How do we know you won’t? Another order and-”

  Allen interrupted her. “We ain’t army anymore.” He looked at Singh, who nodded. “Whatever army is now, we aren’t part of it. And besides, the army won’t be around for long.”

  The truck slowed down.

  Allen continued, “Best we can do is keep moving, keep our heads down. Trust us if you want to stay alive. Me and my men will keep you safe, alive.”

  “Why are you so bothered about us?” asked the large man in the tatty jumper, his voice now soft and wavering, like a child’s.

  Allen smirked. “Maybe we’re looking for redemption.” He met Singh’s eyes. “From our sins.”

  The truck stopped. The sound of a door opening and closing, footsteps, then Lewis and Walton appeared.

  “Napalm?! They’ve lost their fucking minds,” said Lewis. The fire burnt strongly, the tower of smoke painting the sky a dirty dark grey.

  Walton said, “What now sir?”

  Allen looked around the back of the troop carrier, expectant faces waiting for his command, waiting for him to keep them safe. Eleven men, nine women, and three children.

  “We go west. To Cornwall. I know Cornwall. There’s plenty of places to keep low, away from people.”

  “People?” asked the woman with the child. “Why keep away from people, it’s those things we need to be scared of.”

  “You think the zeds are bad? Wait until you see people when everything is taken from them. No electricity, no water, no food. The zeds will seem like teddy bears.” Allen turned to Walton. “Get us to Cornwall.”

  Walton nodded. “On our way.” Him and Lewis disappeared round the side of the truck. The engine started up and they were moving again.

  Allen looked out at the napalm cloud. Lucky he wasn’t looking at a mushroom cloud. He wouldn’t put it past them to use nukes though. Had they hit the cities, he wondered?

  He pulled out the picture of his son, his hand shaking gently.

  “Sir,” said Singh, pointing to the sky.

  A large helicopter was in the distance, heading south.

  “Dalby?” said Singh.

  “Could be,” said Allen. He put the photo back in his bag, sat back, and closed his eyes. He saw his son, smiling, holding his arms out to him.

  The Dead Lands

  Chapter 1

  Harriet was stuck in traffic.

  She had left London three hours ago after phoning her mum in Manchester - ‘Things in Manchester are normal’, said her mum. A hastily packed bag, a race out of London before rush hour, but here Harriet still was, on the M25, not moving.

  A loud series of shouts to her right. Three cars ahead two men stood arguing, pushing each other. Harriet shrunk back in her seat.

  One man punched the other, and a fight ensued.

  Harriet cursed herself for leaving London. Maybe things weren’t so bad. It was all only rumours wasn’t it? She hadn’t actually seen any of the infected, or zombies, as people had been calling them.

  She turned on the radio and scanned through the channels, most still broadcasting the weird announcement, stay in your homes, don’t travel, wait for the authorities to restore order. This latest report had something new, warnings that civil disobedience was now a matter of national security, to be dealt with in the harshest terms.

  The fighting men finished fighting. One of the men was on the ground, a pool of blood around his head. Harriet breathed in sharply, scared.

  A few cars ahead, and a young family left their car. A couple, a baby and a toddler. The woman locked the door of the car and they walked away through the columns of stationary vehicles.

  She jumped at a loud bang from behind her. She turned around. A thick pillar of smoke, about a hundred yards away, tumbled silently into the air. Its foreboding darkness contrasted strongly with the mellow orange of the early evening.

  There was another sound. A rising rumble. Not one sound, but many, the sound of voices, of shouts and screams.

  Harriet gripped the back of her seat, her knuckles white, her eyes wide. A crowd of people ran towards her. Between cars, climbing over cars.

  She fumbled for her phone - no signal. She cursed loudly and threw it to the floor. Shaking her head, she picked it up again and put it in her pocket. She reached into the back seat and grabbed her bag.

  The crowd was on her. The car reverberated loudly with bangs as people bumped past. Men, women, young and old, some crying, some shouting to others to keep up.

  Some bleeding.

  Harriet’s breath accelerated and she felt afraid. She gripped her bag tight and stared ahead, the backs of the people turing into silhouettes in the setting sun. A young girl fell over and Harriet sat up, grabbing the door handle of her car. A woman appeared against the flow of the crowd and picked up the little girl. They joined the rushing exodus an
d disappeared from view.

  Harriet still gripped the door handle. Why did she feel such a compulsion to join the crowd? She saw the fear in their eyes, and heard it in their voices.

  Her breath became fast and shallow, she struggled to catch air. She was having a panic attack.

  Breath deeply, stay clam, close your eyes…

  There was a huge thump and Harriet opened her eyes. Outside, a man, his face covered in blood, pulled at her door handle, shouting.

  Harriet screamed and backed into the passenger seat.

  A second figure appeared, a woman, a police woman. Harriet felt relief.

  Authority.

  Then the police woman grabbed the man’s head and sunk her teeth into his skull. She pulled back and the man’s scalp peeled away revealing white and shiny bone. She pushed the man against the neighbouring car and, spitting out the scalp, sunk her teeth into the man’s neck. Blood squirted high into the air and covered Harriet’s window.

  Harriet screamed. She hurriedly opened the passenger door and scrambled to get out. She fell onto the tarmac. Someone running past stood painfully on her head, cursing.

  “Get out of the fucking way!”

  Harriet struggled to her feet, grabbed her bag and joined the running crowd, no idea where she was going - letting the fleeing mob be her guide.

  The sound of another explosion erupted behind her, and multiple car horns sounded.

  Harriet wiped away her tears as she ran, her breathing fast and irregular, fighting to get the breath she needed to keep going. She tripped over something, a person, maybe, but she pulled herself up and ran ignoring a sharp pain in her knee.

  The memory of the man’s scalp being peeled off by a police woman replayed through her head, accompanied by the thought that was a zombie, that was a zombie, that was a zombie.

  A car door opened and she ran straight into it. She fell painfully, winded. An arm pulled her up and a woman’s voice said, “This way, we need to get off the road.”

  Harriet followed the woman off the road and up the embankment of the motorway onto a farm field. A young boy ran with them. He glanced up at her, his face stern. “You have to keep up,” he said.

  Harriet kept up.

  The field buzzed with fleeing people. It was getting difficult to see exactly how many as the light faded, the evening becoming night.

  They reached the edge of the field, bordered by a large hedge shielding a shallow ditch. They ducked down into the ditch.

  Everyone breathed heavily.

  “I’m June,” said the woman. She looked somewhere in her late forties, a lot older than Harriet. The young boy, she had no idea, how can you tell one child from another?

  “I’m Harriet,” she said.

  “Nice to meet you. This is my son Adam.”

  The young boy gave her a sheepish wave.

  “What’s happening?” said Harriet.

  June shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Those things everywhere. And the people.”

  Adam said, “My dad says that in a crisis, the people are the most dangerous thing.”

  June rolled her eyes, “Your dad doesn’t know anything about zombies.”

  “He knows more than us,” said Adam, unperturbed. He turned to Harriet. “He’s in the army, a sergeant. If we can find him, he’ll keep us safe.”

  This sounded hopeful, thought Harriet.

  June saw the look in Harriet’s eyes and shook her head. “I haven’t seen him in over a month. We’re divorced.”

  “He’ll find us,” said Adam with certainty.

  June peered out of the ditch. “It’s getting dark. I think we need to find somewhere to stay.”

  “There was an estate, about two fields over,” said Harriet.

  Adam shook his head, “My dad says that in a crisis, the best-”

  “That will do,” said June. “Sounds good. I’m sure someone will help us.”

  Adam frowned at his mum as she grabbed his hand.

  “Come on,” said June.

  The trio set off across the field, stumbling in the darkness. Ahead, the dull sodium orange of street lighting from the estate led the way.

  They walked down an empty street. The estate was a new development, a warren of small but modern three bedroom houses for young first time buyers. Seemingly endless roads and cul-de-sacs looking the same as the last.

  Only a few had lights on, many of the driveways were empty.

  They knocked on several doors, and the responses varied from silence, to lights out, to angry warnings to leave.

  Harriet felt her stomach rumble, and she was thirsty. Adam voiced his hunger too.

  “This is useless,” said June, “everyone is shitting themselves because of this virus.”

  “Language,” said Adam.

  June ignored him, “You’d think they would help two women with a child.”

  The next house with any lights on was on a corner. The grass was overgrown and there was an old 4x4 pickup truck sitting in the driveway. The garden was scattered with motor parts and a rusted motorbike.

  “Let’s try this one,” said June. They stood at the end of the drive.

  “Looks dodgy,” said Harriet.

  “Look it’s getting late, we can’t be picky.”

  Harriet saw the curtain twitch and a few seconds later, the door opened. A young man, thin, and wearing green combat trousers and t-shirt, stood at the door. He motioned at them to come in. “Come on, hurry.” He looked up and down the street.

  The women looked at each other.

  “Look,” he said, “no one else is going to let you in. Half of them have legged it, the others are like bloody rabbits, holed up, scared.”

  “What do you think June?” whispered Harriet, not sure she liked the young man, but certainly not liking being outside in the dark.

  “I don’t know, he looks funny, but, he’s right about there being no where else.” June shrugged.

  “Dad would say we should camp out,” said Adam, “or find an empty building.”

  That seemed to make up June’s mind. She took Adam’s hand. “Well, mum says we shouldn’t turn down a warm house.”

  Harriet took one last look up and down the strangely quiet street. Empty houses, empty driveways. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it, something had happened.

  “I’m Jake,” said the man as he welcomed them in. Once in the hallway, he closed the door and locked it, thoroughly - there were four extra deadlocks on the door.

  The house smelt funny, thought Harriet. Nothing nasty, just like Jake didn’t clean as often as he should. The carpet was an old brown, and a pile of magazines sat in the porch - Survival Warrior. A samurai sword hung in the hallway.

  “Come on, let’s get you both a cuppa.” Jake smiled widely as he led them into the cluttered and chaotic kitchen. He dug out a few cups from the cupboard and set the kettle to boil.

  He was a small man, young, maybe in his mid twenties.

  He leaned down and smiled at Adam, ruffling his hair. “Alright young man? You want an orange juice?”

  Adam smiled back and nodded. June moved in behind Adam, resting her hands on his shoulders.

  “Are you in the army?” asked Adam.

  The man shook his head. “No, afraid not. I have something wrong with my leg, can’t get in.”

  Adam nodded, satisfied with Jake’s answer.

  “Did you girls come from the motorway?” he asked.

  “How do you know?” asked Harriet.

  “I’ve been watching the street and field from the attic. With my binoculars. It’s a mess.” The kettle clicked off and he prepared the teas. “I’ve been on the radio, you know, the CB, too. Truckers and that. The traffic is blocked all around London, and the military have put a barricade in place, around the M25.”

  “A barricade?” said June.

  “Yeah, no-one in, no-one out.” He put the teas on a tray. “Let’s have these in the lounge.”

  They walked through and Harriet m
oved a hoody off the couch. She sat down next to a cat.

  “How can they put up a barricade?” said Harriet. “I need to get to Manchester. They can’t just stop us from going anywhere.”

  Jake shrugged his shoulders. “National emergency. You must have heard the radio announcements. Full zombie apocalypse by the sound of it.”

  “You see!” shouted Adam.

  Jake smiled at Adam. “First stage is they try and lock everything down, “ said Jake. “That won’t work of course. At this stage, the virus will be spreading quickly around the country and there will be outbreaks everywhere.”

  “You’re an expert are you?” said June.

  Adam chipped in, “Everyone knows this mum. It’s what happens in an apocalypse.”

  Jake nodded. “Bright aren’t you?”

  June shook her head. “For God’s sake, sorry, but this is ridiculous.”

  “Is that what the policewoman was, a zombie?” said Harriet.

  “You’ve seen one?” asked Jake.

  Harriet told them what had happened on the motorway.

  Jake sighed. “Blimey. So they’re outside the city now. It’s worse than I thought.”

  June finished her drink. “Look, thank you for taking us in, but please, we need to stop talking like this, you’re frightening my son. Besides, it’s all just ridiculous. This will all be sorted out in a few days.”

  No one said anything, and June’s words fell flat into the silence.

  Adam wondered over to the coffee table and picked up a compass sitting there.

  Harriet said, “What do we do?”

  “We lock down here,” said Jake. “I have supplies for months, and we can make this place safe.”

  “What do you mean by lock down?” said Harriet.

  “Put blackouts over the window, nail the doors closed, nail the windows closed. Sit tight until the initial die off is over. People will be most dangerous in the first few weeks, so we just lock down and wait it out.”

  June put her cup down. “That’s it, come on Adam, we have to go. This man is nuts.”

  Adam didn’t move.

  “Adam! Come here now,” she stood up and jutted her hand out.