Surviving the Fall: How England Died

by Stephen Cross

  “Fuckin’ hell,” said Terry.

  Chris smiled, “Couldn’t happen to a nicer bloke.”

  Moans from behind. Zombies were approaching.

  A scallie lay dead a few feet away. A large axe was in his hand. Terry picked it up.

  “We need that Hummer,” said Terry, feeling the weight of the axe.

  By now, at least ten zombies stood around the Hummer, picking apart the remains of Simeon and the scallie.

  “You ready?” said Chris, holding his baseball high.

  “Let’s do it,” said Terry, holding high the axe.

  Chris ran forward. “Come on then you undead nobheads!”

  Chapter 13

  Nan, Amy and Nate stood on the stairs. Shots.

  Terry said something to Chris, their voices floating up the stairs. Then the sound of their footsteps as they ran away.

  “Where’s me dad going?” said Nate.

  “Don’t you worry son,” said Nan, resting her hands on Nate’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “Your dad’ll be back.”

  Amy walked slowly to the edge of the stair-well and peered round the corner.

  She put her hand to her mouth and gasped.

  “What is it?” said Nan.

  “It’s Benno, he’s dead.”

  “Oh God save us,” said Nan as she pulled Nate closer.

  “What do we do Nan?” said Amy.

  They couldn’t stand here, on this stairwell. It was cold, it smelled bad and it was terrifying to be surrounded by concrete with the world falling apart outside.

  “Let’s get downstairs, and get these bags down.” Nan gently pushed Nate towards the pile of bags. “We gonna have to get out of here quickly.”

  Between them they picked up the bags and lugged them down the stairs onto the ground floor.

  Nan realised they had made a mistake.

  Outside was teeming with the zombies. Loads of the young scallies from the estate were running round with makeshift weapons, fighting them, and getting killed by them,

  A fire burnt in the corner of the car park. It belched thick black smoke into the sky, its burning roar the background to the shouts, moans and screams the filled the air.

  Chris and Terry were nowhere to be seen. Nan felt panic spread through her. She squeezed her hand to her chest as a tight pain in her chest reminded her that she was no longer young.

  Nate ran to the door of the high rise. He pointed to the far end of the car park, “Look! It’s me dad!”

  “Wait, Nate, wait!” shouted Nan.

  “Stop,” shouted Amy.

  But Nate didn’t listen. He charged out into the standing battle in the car park.

  “You bloody idiot,” said Nan, under her breath, to herself. They should have stayed put.

  “Stay here Nan,” said Amy, “I’ll go get him.”

  “No you won’t girl,” said Nan, gripping Amy’s hand. “You stay here with the stuff.”

  “But Nan, I’ll-”

  “Listen to me girl. This ain’t a place for young’uns, you understand?” Nan took her frying pan out of one of the bags. “You stay here, got it?”

  Amy nodded.

  Nan walked quickly, almost jogged, out into the car park, trying to ignore the pain in her dodgy hip.

  A zombie appeared to her left. It was Mr Kapoor from the Chemist’s. His white coat was covered in patches of blood and one of his eyes was hanging out, like them joke glasses you could get in Southport.

  He reached a bloodied hand towards Nan.

  She swung the frying pan hard, connecting with Mr Kapoor’s skull with a dull clang. He tottered, and Nan hit him again. His skull cracked and he fell.

  “Sorry, Mr Kapoor,” said Nan.

  There was a high cry from ahead. Nate was on the floor, two zombies were closing in on him. He must have fallen.

  “Hey!” shouted Nan, “Leave him alone, you pair of nobheads!”

  She broke into a run. Her hips, and now her knees too, cried out in pain. She swung the frying pan and connected with the another zombie, Mrs Grantham from the church group. She always was a stuck up bint, always going on about her Jack going to Uni. Nan felt satisfaction as Mrs Grantham’s skull cracked.

  A third zombie lurched for Nan, but she managed to get out of the way, and swing the frying pan again to hit this zombie, who she didn’t recognise, hard on the back of the head. It lost balance and fell onto the bonnet of a white Subaru. She swung again, and again. The skull cracked and a portion of brain spilled out onto the bonnet of the car.

  She lent over and helped Nate up.

  Nate was unable to speak, his face white with fear. He smiled at Nan. He pointed to the other side of the car park.

  The Hummer. Surrounded by zombies. Chris and Terry were running towards the group.

  Nate tugged on Nan’s hand, but she couldn’t move. He tugged harder. “Come on Nan!”

  Her left hip had stopped. It was frozen, she couldn’t move her leg. Excruciating pain tore up the side of her body.

  She grimaced through the pain. “You go and stay with Amy.”

  “But me dad?”

  Nan shook her head. “Your dad can manage himself. You go look after Amy.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be alright son.”

  Nate looked at Nan, he looked at her hand on her hip, and he looked carefully at her face. She tried to hide her pain.

  “I’m staying with you,” said the boy.

  Nan opened her mouth to speak, but the air was sucked from her throat. A bang, louder than anything Nan had ever heard, surrounded her. Then she flew through the air.

  Nate’s hand slipped from hers.

  Chris raised and hammered down his baseball bat with one fluid motion, landing on the nearest zombie’s skull with an audible and jarring crack. The zombie dropped to the ground like a lead weight, its brains spilling out of its shattered skull.

  To his right, Terry did the same with his axe, hewing to the left and right, his strong frame having no trouble smashing to pieces the frail remains of humans in front of them.

  It was easy, thought Chris. They were too busy eating Simeon and Benno to realise that a second death was upon them. The only danger, thought Chris, was getting tired with all the baseball bat swinging. Terry didn’t seem to have any trouble, but then he was one of them muscle men.

  The moans diminished as the number of zombies fell. Terry and Chris soon cleared the ten or so zombies that had crowded in around the Hummer.

  Simeon’s body lay at the centre of the scrum. His torso had been shredded, all soft tissue and organs ripped from his insides. His ribs lay exposed, decorated with threads of guts and sinews of flesh like a macabre christmas tree.

  “What a fucking mess,” said Terry, turning his nose up at the sight.

  “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer bloke,” said Chris.

  More moans from behind them.

  “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here,” said Terry. “Give me the keys.”

  “What? No fucking way.”

  “We haven’t got time for this. You ever driven anything this big?”

  “No. Have you?”

  “How about a fucking fire engine,” said Terry.

  “You a fireman?”

  “Yes, nobhead.”

  Chris begrudgingly held out the keys.

  He crawled across to the passenger side.

  Terry got in next to him and closed the door.

  Just in time.

  The sky lit up in a fierce yellow. A huge boom sounded, followed by a loud ringing, Chris not sure if it was his ears or the world. The Hummer shook violently to the left and right. A deep vibration drilled through Chris’s body.

  Pieces of metal and wood rained down on the windscreen.

  “What the fuck?” shouted Chris, instinctively shielding his face, even though everything bounced harmlessly of the strengthened glass.

  “Something’s exploded - look!” Terry pointed to the corner of the car park.r />
  Where one car had been burning, there was now four cars and a van burning.

  “Fucking hell…” said Chris.

  Deep red flames licked high from the vehicles, black smoke tumbled skyward, blacking out the sun.

  “Heat must have set off the petrol in the others,” said Terry. “We got to get out of here. Whole car park could go up.”

  “Let’s go then nobhead!”

  Terry put the Hummer into reverse, and the powerful engine rolled over the many zombie bodies and pushed the cars behind out of the way.

  He quickly drove the fifty or so yards back to the apartment. The car park was scattered with burning pieces of debris. Zombies, some on fire, shuffled through the wreckage. A few dazed scallies were running away. Some were being eaten.

  They pulled up outside the high rise. Chris wound down the window, there was Amy.

  “Come on,” he shouted, banging on the side of the door.

  Amy shook her head, “Where’s Nan and Nate?”

  “What?” shouted Terry leaning over, “He’s not with you?”

  “He ran to try and find you,” said Amy, standing at the side of the Hummer. “Nan legged after him.”

  “Fuck!” shouted Chris. He jumped out the Hummer. “Get in here, and close the door.”

  Terry jumped out the other side. He shouted across the bonnet to Chris, “Let’s split up, you take the left, I’ll go right.”

  Chris charged into the burning landscape of twisted metal, smoking carcasses and hungry zombies. His body was charged with fear and anger. Mainly anger. Everything in him always turned into anger at the end. His love for Nan was now anger. He raged through the car park, swinging his bat to the left and right, hard, infused with an energy that came from right inside him.

  A scallie ran out from behind a van. He held up his hands, “Chris, it’s me, Davo!”

  Too late. Chris swung his bat and cracked Davo’s skull into pieces. It shattered apart in a red bloody mess.

  He ran past a blue Merc into an area of six empty parking spaces. There was Nan.

  She was on the floor, next to a white BMW. A piece of large metal stuck out of the boot of the BMW, it was burnt black and smoking.

  It had missed Nan by a few feet.

  She was awake, but he could tell she was in pain.

  A zombie was behind her, only a few feet away. It had seen her, and Nan had seen it, but she wasn’t running. Why wasn’t she running?

  “Nan! Fucking move will ya!” Chris ran towards her.

  “Me hip’s gone,” she shouted.

  Another shout, this one high pitched, a young boy. Nate.

  Chris, only yards away from Nan looked to his left. Nate was on the floor. Two zombies held onto a leg each, pulling themselves to Nate. They would be on him in seconds. They would be chewing on his leg in seconds.

  Nate’s eyes locked with Chris, wide with terror, tears flowing from his young face. He held his arms to Chris. He screamed.

  Chris looked at Nan. She shook her head and pointed at Nate, “Get him lad, don’t be a bloody idiot!”

  Chris listened to Nan, he couldn’t allow himself to think. He had to shut his mind off. Just like when he was a young boy, do what Nan tells you to do.

  He ran towards Nate and brought his bat down hard on the zombies. Smash, smash. Blood squirted onto the wheel of the nearby car and all over his face.

  Nate was screaming.

  Someone else was screaming.

  Nan.

  The zombie had reached her and was biting into her neck. Blood covered its face. Nan’s arms and legs shook uncontrollably like an out of control doll. She let out a warbling gurgling scream. The zombie pulled away, ripping out a tendon, then peeled back the skin all the way down Nan’s arm.

  Chris picked up Nate and ran towards Nan. He used his free arm to hit the zombie on the head, the power coming from his one arm enough, his rage enough, to shatter the skull of the fucker.

  A few seconds. That was all. A few seconds too late. He’d fucked up again.

  Nan shook, like she was having a fit. Chris kneeled beside her, and let Nate down. Tears poured from his eyes. He started to shake too. He felt as if his heart had been ripped out.

  “Nan! Don’t die, I’m sorry, come on Nan, I need you.”

  Nan tried to speak, but her voice came out as bloody gurgle. She held up her arm slowly and rested it on Chris’s cheek.

  “No,” said Chris. Then he shouted it. He embraced Nan.

  Someone pulled on his shoulder, a strong hand.

  “Dad!” shouted Nate.

  “Come on, we have to go!” It was Terry.

  Chris fought against the hand, he didn’t want to let Nan go, but there wasn’t any fight left. He let himself be dragged away.

  Chapter 14

  Chris was in the backseat. He didn’t remember much of the escape from Liverpool.

  Terry drove the Hummer through the city, pushing vehicles out of the way, avoiding and running over zombies, outrunning people trying to stop them. Outrunning the fires.

  It had taken a good few hours to get out of the city. They headed south and east, back inland so they could cross the Mersey at the Runcorn bridge. Using the tunnel didn’t seem like a good idea.

  They didn’t see too many other cars. But plenty of zombies, and plenty of people. Gangs of people, running, fighting. Families together. People on their own, young children on their own. Amy wanted them to stop and help, but Terry said no. He said that it would be too dangerous.

  “Remember the Titanic? When the rescue boats went back, they were swamped. They sank. That would be us. You don’t think people will fight and kill to get this Hummer?”

  Terry tried to keep them on the smallest roads, the little country roads that threaded through the Cheshire fields. Sometimes they had to hit the main roads, but when they did, Terry would use the road as a guide and drive the Hummer in fields next to the road. The Hummer seemed to be able to go anywhere. It had been a hell of an idea.

  They headed towards Wales and the mountains. It was early evening before they passed the border.

  Chris spent most of the journey in silence. The others had left him alone. They felt their own sorrow for Nan, but they didn’t dare guess how it had affected Chris.

  Chris was trying to find the anger that had helped when his mum died, but it was wasn’t there.

  All he found was nothing, a blank. He was a blank. No emotion left.

  Amy had put her arm around him and whispered soothing words through her own tears, but he felt none of that.

  He had never built up a wall around Nan. He never thought Nan would let him down, would leave, at least not without warning.

  Zombies. Fucking zombies.

  There it was. The anger, a hint of it, at least.

  He looked out the window, they were driving across a field, slowly. A main road was beside them, but it was full of traffic and fires.

  Figures wandered along the road, despondent, lost, stumbling. Dead.

  And beyond the main road were the futuristic towers of an industrial park by the sea. All the lights from the factories, which had once made it look like a set from a sci-fi film, where gone. Out of control fires raged instead, hundreds of fires. Huge fires. The sky was burnt yellow and orange, and dirtied with smoke and floating black debris. It looked like the end of the world.

  Chris sat up.

  “We need to turn inland.”

  Terry glanced at him. “You alright mate?”

  Chris nodded. “We need to turn inland. Get away from the sea. There’s no people inland.”

  “Ok. Have a look Nate, see what you reckon.”

  Terry looked around the field they were on. No shuffling figures, no marauding gangs. Just sheep.

  He slowed the Hummer down and turned round to face Chris.

  “Hey Chris, thanks. For saving Nate,” said Terry.

  Chris shrugged. “It’s ok. No problem.”

  “But it was a problem. You did something
for… I can’t guess how hard it was.” Terry was talking quietly. “I’ll never forget what you did.”

  Nate turned round and smiled at Chris.

  Chris felt something inside. Warmth. He pushed it away.

  Amy held his hand, but he didn’t really feel it.

  Nate spoke to his dad, pointing out something on the map. Terry nodded and started up the Hummer again, turning left, south, away from the sea and towards the middle of Wales and the mountains, and no people.

  Chris looked at the picture of Granddad that Nan had rescued from the flat. He didn’t have a picture of Nan. He held the binoculars that she had also saved. He held them close to his chest. He tried to fight the tears, but he couldn’t.

  No one had ever loved him like Nan. No one ever would. He was alone now.

  Just him and the zombies. All the undead together.

  Plane Dead

  Chapter 1

  “That’s strange.”

  “What is?”

  “Still no response. Let’s do another diagnostic. Make sure our radio isn’t out of action.”

  “Ok, running diagnostics.”

  “I’ll try the Tower again… This is flight WA-1254, Captain Andrew Bracknell to Tower. Acknowledge please.”

  No response. Just static.

  “Diagnostics all look green Andy,’ said Peter, the co-pilot.

  Andy keyed the transmitter again. “This is Captain Andrew Bracknell, WebAir flight WA-1254, Airbus A319-100 from Malaga, requesting acknowledgement from Manchester Tower.”

  Nothing.

  “We’ve been in holding now for an hour, Andy,” said Peter.

  “We’re still good for fuel.”

  Andy glanced at the fuel gauge, just to be sure. He had checked the gauge five times in the past ten minutes.

  The plane shuddered for a few seconds. Turbulence. The holding pattern had them at cloud level. Grey, repeating, incessant cloud.