Surviving the Fall: How England Died

by Stephen Cross

  He hit he door with his fist.

  He pushed against it with whatever energy he had left.

  “Hey, let me in! Open the door, please!”

  A hand grabbed his leg.

  Chapter 7

  The door rattled with another bang and an accompanying shout, more panicked than the first.

  “We open it,” said Sarah.

  She reached for the door handle.

  “Hang on,” said Alan. Standing closer, he got his hand on the door first.

  Sarah paused and stared at him. “Open the door - whoever it is needs help.”

  Jason stepped forward, “Maybe this guy is right, we don’t know what’s out there.”

  “I’m not listening to this,” Sarah reached forward and tried to open the door. Alan pushed her away.

  “Stop it!” said Cynthia, standing at the back of the room.

  A muffled cry came from the other side of the door.

  The grip on David’s ankle was strong, like a cold vice.

  He spun round onto his back. A torn and broken body covered in blood leaned over him. It was wearing the uniform of a Eurostar employee, a young man. Its white shirt was now scarlet and ripped open, its guts hanging down like red jungle vines onto the floor.

  Its mouth opened slowly, then snapped shut quickly. It fell towards David.

  David managed to roll fast to the left; once, twice. There was a thump as the zombie landed on the dirt beside him.

  David pulled himself away. It followed, also pulling itself along the floor. Reaching his leg just as David pulled it away.

  He shouted again, aiming his shout to the door.

  Sarah, nearly pushed off balance by Alan, recovered. Her heart was racing and she felt numerous nerves in her face twitching. Blood rushed to head. Her body tensed. She was used to fighting in the boardroom, but physical altercations were foreign to her.

  She was surprised to see how little control she had over her physical reactions, due to a simple push.

  She fought hard to stand up straight. “Open the door, Alan.”

  Alan shook his head. His eyes darted around the room.

  Abdul stepped forward and grabbed Alan’s hand.

  Alan stared at Abdul for a second, then stepped back.

  Sarah reached forward and opened the door.

  Abdul grabbed the fire extinguisher.

  A pillbox of dull orange yellow light spilled into the tunnel.

  It gave David a moment’s hope and he kicked with his bad ankle at the zombie. David cried out in pain, but managed to dislodge the hand around his leg.

  Two people ran from the doorway.

  A large man in a uniform raised a fire extinguisher high above his head and dropped it hard on the zombie’s head. There was a dull clang combined with a wet cracking sound.

  The zombie let out a final hiss, then lay still.

  David let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you!” he shouted as he lay back, closing his eyes. Exhaustion hit him, as did pain. He grimaced his teeth and breathed hard.

  “Are you ok?” It was a woman’s voice.

  “Has he passed out?” said a man’s voice

  David shook his head slowly, “I’m still here… my ankle.”

  “Let’s get him out of here.”

  David heard other voices.

  Strong hands grabbed him under the arms. Someone grabbed his feet and he cried out in pain. They let go.

  “Which ankle is it?” said the woman’s voice.

  “Right,” he whispered.

  Gentle hands lifted his injured leg by the knee. He was pulled along the floor for a few yards, his ankle kept clear of the ground.

  Light shone through his eyelids; the texture of the floor changed from earth to cold concrete; sounds took on a closer echo. He opened his eyes a little, but the light hurt. He closed them again.

  Pain washed over him.

  He felt his consciousness wavering. He was happy to let it go.

  Darkness.

  “So what do we do now?” said Alan, motioning towards the man on the floor.

  The man was passed out, lying flat on his back. Sarah had rolled up the bottom of his jeans to reveal a swollen and angry looking ankle, large purple bruises. His hands were a red and bloody mess - his fingers being the source of the blood. Some of his nails were missing. His mouth had dried blood around it.

  The man was well dressed, somewhere in his early thirties.

  “I guess you would have left him?” said Sarah, casting an angry glance at Alan. She wouldn’t forgive him for what he had done. It would achieve nothing to ferment a fight, but she wouldn’t let him off lightly.

  Alan snorted and folded his arms. “We can’t save everyone.”

  Abdul patted the air, a calming motion. “It is what it is. Let’s think now what to do. The plan hasn’t changed.”

  “He’s safe now,” said Jason. “So you’re right, the plan hasn’t changed.”

  “What do you mean?” said Sarah.

  “I mean that he’s safe. We can go on,” said Jason.

  Alan nodded. “This fella’s right. We’ve saved him now, so we don’t have to wait around. Ain’t none of them things getting in here.”

  Sarah shook her head. “He’s passed out, we don’t know that he’s ok.”

  “What about all the other people on the train?” said Jason in a soft voice. “I don’t see you worrying about saving them. The ones that were running down the tunnel, the ones that were attacked in the carriage.”

  Sarah shot him an angry glance, but had no answer.

  “It wouldn’t seem right,” said Mary in a quiet voice. Sarah smiled at her unexpected ally. “He’s here with us now. It wouldn’t seem right to just leave him.”

  “Mary,” said her mum, “this man is right. He is safe now. We can’t be expected to save everyone.”

  “We’re not trying to save everyone, mum, just this one man.”

  Cynthia looked at her daughter for a minute, not finding anything to say, then looked away, towards Alan and Jason.

  “I think we go, now,” said Alan. “Before things get worse.”

  Jason nodded. “Agreed.”

  Sarah felt the man’s pulse. It was strong. He was breathing normally. He had probably passed out from shock, fear, exhaustion.

  Jason and Alan were right - if they left him he wouldn’t die.

  “So let’s get out of here,” said Alan.

  Jason opened the door that led out into the service tunnel.

  Abdul’s eyes met Sarah’s.

  It wasn’t right.

  “No. I’m staying,” said Sarah.

  “What?” said Alan.

  “Why?” said Cynthia.

  Sarah wondered why herself. “It just doesn’t feel right.”

  “I’m going to stay too,” said Abdul.

  Alan shook his head, “What is wrong with you two, we need-”

  Jason interrupted - “It doesn’t matter, let them stay, we go.”

  Alan nodded.

  “What about you two?” said Jason, turning to Cynthia and Mary.

  “We’re coming,” said Cynthia.

  “Mum…” said Mary.

  “Don’t start Mary, we are going.”

  Sarah tried to make eye contact with Mary, but she kept her head down.

  “Ok, good luck,” said Jason. “And thanks for getting us out of the train.”

  “No problem,” said Sarah. “And good luck to you as well.”

  Jason, Alan, Cynthia and Mary left. Mary raised her head as she left the room. She mouthed “sorry” to Sarah.

  They closed the door after them. It echoed with a metallic clang.

  Chapter 8

  The room felt very quiet. The door back into the tunnel shook gently. A scratching sound. More zombies.

  “What do we do now?” asked Sarah.

  Abdul shrugged. “How is he?”

  “I think he’s ok. No idea how long it will be before he comes round through.”

&
nbsp; “I guess we wait then.” Abdul sat on the floor beside the man, easing his large girth down with a tired sigh. “I could do with a rest anyway. As you may have guessed, I don’t get a lot of exercise.”

  Sarah smiled and sat down next to Abdul.

  “A rest may be a good idea.”

  She took out her phone. No signal.

  Now, in a relatively safe place, she found herself scared. Scared of her thoughts, thinking of what may have happened, or was happening, to her husband and daughter.

  “Are you ok?” said Abdul.

  She realised a tear was running down her cheek. She wiped it away, embarrassed. “I’m ok.”

  “You have people you are worried about?” said Abdul.

  She nodded, but didn’t say anything. She was worried that if she spoke, she would start to cry like a child.

  “I have too.” Abdul pulled his wallet out of his dusty jacket. He opened it and removed a picture that he passed to Sarah.

  Abdul was in the middle of the picture, surrounded by four children, ranging from young to teen. Two boys and two girls.

  “It’s ok to be scared,” said Abdul. “We aren’t in a boardroom anymore.”

  Sarah passed the photo back to Abdul, and she let herself go. She let the tears flow. “God, what is happening,” she managed to say through loud sobs.

  “I don’t know,” said Abdul. “But we have to try and stay alive, for the people who we care about.”

  Sarah wiped the tears away from her cheeks. “Do you really think that they will be ok?”

  Abdul shook his head. “I have no idea. Who knows what it’s like up there now.”

  “If those things have got into the city…”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes. The only sounds were the occasional scratching on the other side of the door, and the rasping breathing of the young man they had rescued.

  “You look like you have a lovely family, Abdul.”

  Abdul smiled, his large jowls creasing into a well practiced position. “Oh yes. I am a very lucky man. I have a good job, I work good hours. I spend a lot of time with them. Very lucky man.”

  Sarah smiled back, finding it hard not to. “I have one daughter, Clarissa, and my husband, Ian. My daughter is three. I don’t see her very often.”

  Abdul sighed. “Well, we can change that, once we get out of here, can’t we?”

  She said nothing in return, but pulled out her phone. She scrolled through to her favourite photo - her, Ian and Clarissa at the beach in Tullock’s Bay in Cornwall, where they had a luxury holiday chalet.

  The man coughed. Sarah quickly put her phone away and leaned forward.

  His eyes opened and he squinted against the light. “Where am I?” he said softly.

  “You’re safe,” said Sarah.

  He made to sit up.

  “Careful,” said Abdul, helping him up.

  “You got me in from the tunnel?”

  Sarah nodded. “Yes, one of the zombies nearly got you. You passed out.” There was a clang and a scratch on the tunnel door.

  “That him?” said the man.

  “No we killed your one. Must be others,” said Sarah.

  “I saw one turning,” said the man. “They change quickly.”

  “How are you?” said Sarah.

  “I’m ok. I think.” He leaned forward and inspected his ankle. It was swollen, covered in wonderfully coloured bruises. “I think I have torn my perineal tendon.”

  “Your what?” said Abdul.

  “Sorry, my ankle. I’m David. I’m a doctor.” He held out his hand to offer a shake, then noticed his fingers. “Ah yes… That was me crawling across the floor.”

  Sarah and Abdul introduced themselves.

  “Well, thank you for saving me. Sorry for passing out - damned embarrassing. I don’t know what happened - the pain, I guess, and the shock, fear.”

  “How is your ankle now?” said Sarah.

  “Bad. I don’t think I can walk on it.”

  Sarah felt a twinge of disappointment in her. “That’s ok. We can work something out.”

  David looked around the small room. “I thought I saw more of you, what happened?”

  Sarah glanced at Abdul, and the look must have said enough as David turned red.

  “Ah, I see. Well, thank you, I guess I owe you both my life, and possibly my continued existence thanks to your kindness.”

  “We’re going to get us all out of here,” said Sarah, anticipating David’s next comment.

  David shook his head. “Look, I couldn’t possible ask you to sacrifice your safety-”

  Abdul stood up and smiled. “Listen, there is no choice. If I have to I will knock you out and carry you myself.” Abdul paused before smiling at David.

  David returned the smile. “Ok, it seems my mind is made up. Well, thank you. Thank you very much.” He looked around the room. “I will need a stick, something to support myself on. Either that or you will both have to support me. This ankle is going to be shot for a good while.”

  There was only one piece of furniture in the room that would help - a metal frame filling cabinet.

  “Maybe we can take that apart,” said Sarah.

  Abdul examined it. “Yes, I think we can use the support posts.”

  They spent the next thirty minutes pulling at the filing cabinet. Abdul had an alum key set, due to the many quick fixes he attended to during his working day. He used this to take apart the filing cabinet.

  David took of his coat and use this to cushion the top of one of the support posts. He had a fulling functioning walking stick.

  “How is it?” asked Sarah.

  “A little too high, but it will be fine.”

  By now the single scratching at the door of the little room had graduated to a continuous banging and rattling. News was out there was fresh meat inside.

  They opened the other door into the support tunnel. A cold draft blew into the room. The darkness was uninviting, foreboding.

  Abdul went first, using his phone as the group’s torch.

  He performed a cursory investigation of the tunnel. It was about fifteen feet across, ten feet high, and with a flat concrete floor. The tunnel wall was constructed in bricks that had turned a dirty black, covered with moisture. The air was damp and cold.

  “Feels like the sea is about to come in,” said David.

  Abdul shone the phone light ahead of them, illuminating twenty feet or so.

  “Not a lot of warning if something comes at us from the front,” said Abdul.

  “Well let’s hope they haven’t got in here,” said Sarah. She felt a chill, and not just from the cold air of the tunnel. The thought that they could be blind prey, like moles, hunted by living dead creatures was hard to believe, but terrifying all the same. She wondered how terrifying it would be once she fully accepted what was happening. Abdul was right - they weren’t in the boardroom anymore.

  They set off along the tunnel. Their footsteps echoed with a strange shuffle down the tunnel, the sound bouncing off one wall to another, ironically making their steps sound like a train. It was too loud, thought Sarah. Too loud for this darkness.

  Progress was slow, David only able to hop along. Every now and then he let out small murmurs of pain.

  “Are you ok?” said Sarah.

  “I am. My ankle likes to remind me it’s still there every now and again.”

  Sarah couldn’t see his face fully in the shadow, but she could sense the smile.

  “Ok, good. Let us know if it get’s too much.”

  They walked in silence. Although longing for the warmth of conversation and contact, their fear of what may lie ahead muted any thought of talking.

  All the better to hear what may be coming.

  The walk was uneventful for the first hour or so. Sarah had no idea how much ground they covered, it was impossible to tell in the pitch black. One step after another, the same as the last, the tunnel unchanging. Maybe they had stepped onto a giant treadmill and they wou
ld walk forever in this purgatory, not getting anywhere, just getting step by step closer to death.

  Then came the explosion.

  Chapter 9

  First a white wall of light far up the tunnel. A flash that momentarily blinded Sarah. She instinctively held up her hand to protect her eyes. Next was the rush of warm air, and then came the sound. She wasn’t sure if the sound was the air or the air was the sound. It was all one. Warm, then hot. Loud, then incredibly loud, a sound she had never heard before. A star crushing bang, an earth moving rumble, an atmosphere splitting crack, all at once. It filled the tunnel, and her ears, and then her head and whole body. As if every cell was displaced and replaced with sound.

  She fell.

  The echo of the explosion bounced around the the tunnel like waves caught in a harbour. From the front, to the side, to the back. The air stilled and cooled, but not quite to the chill of before, a background warmth left hanging.

  Her face felt hot.

  “Is everyone ok?” she shouted into the darkness.

  “I am ok,” said Abdul. His phone light came on again. He shone it around.

  “I’m good,” said David, his voice strained. “If someone could help me up please.”

  Abdul shone his light at David. Sarah used it to find him and help him up.

  “What the hell was that?” asked Sarah. “An explosion?”

  “I think so,” said Abdul, “What else could it be?”

  “I guess we are lucky we weren’t closer - it must have been right up at the top of the tunnel,” said David.

  Sarah had a terrible realisation. “What about the others?”

  “The others?” said David.

  “The people that left ahead of us.”

  “They might be ok,” said Abdul. “Maybe a bit more burnt, but ok, hopefully.”

  Sarah didn’t feel so sure. They would have been walking much faster than them. How much tunnel could there be?

  Brick dust fell from the ceiling.

  “What do you think, Abdul, a gas explosion?” said David, steadying himself on his crutches.

  Abdul stared into the dark of the tunnel, breathing heavily, his lungs struggling with the dust laden air. “I’m not so sure.”

  Sarah realised what Abdul was thinking. They shared a glance.