The Future of London: (L-2011, Mr Apocalypse, Ghosts of London)

by Mark Gillespie

  Walker sighed. “Fuck sake,” he said. “We can’t hang about the streets all night.”

  “So what do we do?” Barboza said. She was staring at Carol, her eyes flashing with anger. “If you know so much about what they’re going to do, why not tell us what we’re supposed to do to get the bloody hell out of this mess.”

  Carol took a hold of Charlie’s shoulders, like she was leaning on him.

  “We’ve got to lay low,” she said. “Find a place to hide. Somewhere they’re not going to look for us.”

  The three adults stared at one another, knowing that they didn’t have much time to discuss the matter in depth.

  “Where?” Walker said. “I don’t know anything about this neck of the woods.”

  “What about that big cemetery we passed on the way here,” Barboza said. “The park with all the old tombstones. What was it called?”

  “Bunhill Fields,” Carol said.

  “You want to hide from Ghosts in a cemetery?” Walker asked. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

  “Yeah ’cos I’m in the mood for a joke right now Walker,” Barboza said, glaring at him.

  Walker backed off.

  “Or what about the church on the other side of the road?” Barboza said. “Opposite Bunhill Fields or whatever it was called. We could hide in there if Walker’s too scared to go into a cemetery at night.”

  “Wesley’s Chapel,” Carol said.

  “Yeah it was tucked in off the road a little,” Barboza said. “It’d be more comfortable than the cemetery too.”

  “Won’t the Ghosts check in there too?” Walker said.

  “Probably,” Carol said. “And if we get caught in there, we’re trapped.”

  “Well what about the graveyard then?” Barboza said, sighing in exasperation.

  Carol looked at Barboza. Walker thought the older woman was about to shoot down the idea but to his surprise, she nodded at Barboza.

  “It’s a good idea,” she said. “Bunhill is probably the only place around here that’s big enough for us to hide in. The Ghosts might give it a miss. And even if they do come in, it’s big enough to give us a chance of being invisible.”

  Barboza smiled. “What choice have we got, eh?”

  Walker looked at Charlie, then gave him a playful tap on the shoulder. “What do you say wee man?” he asked. “Will you look after me if I let these two women drag us into a graveyard?”

  Charlie looked at Walker and smiled. “Yeah alright,” he said.

  Having made the decision to hide in Bunhill Fields, the quartet hurried back over the roundabout and onto City Road. A road sign informed them that they were on the A501, which was a section of the London Inner Ring Road.

  They followed the road south. The heavy tip-tap of their feet hitting the concrete was the only sound that Walker could hear.

  It took them about two minutes to reach Bunhill Fields. On the other side of the street, Walker noticed Wesley’s Chapel for the first time. The chapel was indeed a little further back from the main road – it was an attractive, two-storeyed Georgian building located at the end of a short, cobbled courtyard. It appeared to have been built mostly out of brown brick and had round-arched windows, five running along the top floor and two on either side of the lower floor entrance. Walker noticed a couple of Greek columns on either side of the main door. In the middle of the courtyard, the statue of a man in a robe extended its arms outwards, beckoning them towards shelter.

  “Are you sure we can’t hide in there?” Walker said. “What is that place?”

  “It’s a Methodist church,” Carol said. “Was. Built by John Wesley – that’s the bloke in the statue out front.”

  “It looks like a safe place,” Barboza said.

  “It’s not worth the risk,” Carol said. “If we get cornered in there, we’re finished.”

  Walker was about to respond but he was cut off by a noise in the distance. He looked over his shoulder, back towards the Old Street roundabout. There was no music this time, no drums – just the sound of vehicles approaching.

  “Oh shit,” Carol said, grabbing Charlie by the arm. “We need to move, get out of sight.”

  Barboza looked towards the roundabout. “That was bloody quick,” she said.

  “Alright,” Walker said. “No more arguments. Bunhill it is then.”

  They ran over towards the entrance of Bunhill Fields. The black steel gate was located in between two stone pillars and it was lying wide open. It too was inviting them in, but it was a less reassuring welcome than the open arms of John Wesley.

  Instead of rushing into the old graveyard, Walker and the others tucked themselves in at the edge of one of the stone pillars. They turned back and watched as two vehicles in the distance pulled onto City Road from the Old Street roundabout.

  Two sets of bright yellow headlights came closer. One of the vehicles was a dark coloured, black pickup truck. The other was a long white van, possibly a Mercedes Sprinter van, judging by the sheer length of the body, which stretched back about six metres.

  There was a fierce skidding sound from further down the road. The tires of the pickup screeched to a sudden halt against the warm road surface. Then slowly, it pulled into the side of the road, parking next to one of the old restaurants that Walker and the others had passed a few minutes ago on their way down City Road.

  The Mercedes van pulled in behind the pickup. Both vehicles kept their engines running and their lights on.

  “What’s going on?” Barboza said. “Why have they stopped there?”

  “They’re onto something,” Carol whispered. “Either they know something we don’t or they’re just taking a punt that someone’s in there.”

  A moment later, there was a loud clicking noise as the doors of the Sprinter and the pickup opened at the same time. Countless dark figures spilled out of both vehicles, stepping onto the road.

  From afar, Walker saw the Ghosts of London for the first time.

  Chapter 14

  Immersion 9 – Live Chat Forums

  #GhostsofLondon #BigChase

  * * *

  Harry Krishna: Anybody watching FOL 10? Is that Mr Apocalypse and Barboza I see shitting themselves on the City Road?

  * * *

  WelcomeTo1984: Yeah lad.

  * * *

  Harry Krishna: Who else is with them?

  * * *

  WelcomeTo1984: Woman and boy? They’re from Station. Weren’t you watching earlier?

  * * *

  Harry Krishna: Nah I’m just sitting down with my GF and a takeaway to watch #GhostsofLondon There was a Big Chase meal deal on at McDonalds. Fast food! Guess that’s what the Ghosts are getting in as well. What else do you call it when your dinner runs away at a hundred miles per hour? LOL!

  * * *

  Ajax: LOL! Mr A and B are in deep shit. Look at all ’em Ghosts standing outside that restaurant. Fucking hell. Something big’s about to go down here.

  * * *

  WelcomeTo1984: Fuck Mr A and B! Instant karma baby!! It’s what they deserve after what they did to them two soldiers today. Good men killed by those bloody London animals. Come on the Ghosts – knock ’em out and put ’em in the van. You’re going to the farm! LOL!

  * * *

  Ajax: @WelcomeTo1984 You stupid twat! You don’t actually believe those troops were doing maintenance work? For real bro? Troops were sent there to kill them. It was self-defence. Don’t be such a gullible fucking moron!!

  * * *

  WelcomeTo1984: @Ajax LOL! It’s Mr Conspiracy Theory! Calm down sunshine. Don’t knock that tinfoil hat off your head on the way out.

  * * *

  Ajax: @WelcomeTo1984 Fucking sheep!! You’re everything that’s wrong with the world. Too lazy to think and form your own opinion.

  * * *

  WelcomeTo1984: @Ajax HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!

  * * *

  Harry Krishna: Calm down ladies! Keep your eyes on the #BigChase Something’s happening on FOL 10. It’s not Mr A o
r B though. Looks like the Ghosts have found something in that building.

  * * *

  WelcomeTo1984: Or someone.

  Chapter 15

  Walker and the others hid by the entrance to Bunhill Fields.

  He knew they should have been deep into the cemetery by now. But his feet were like giant concrete blocks that had taken root in the ground. Something was holding him back. The others were making no signs of moving either. It was as if they were all hypnotised by what was happening further down the street. It was terrifying and yet, they couldn’t tear their eyes away.

  Carol had a hand pinned over Charlie’s mouth. Walker guessed she was making sure the boy didn’t scream.

  The Ghosts of London, or at least some of them, were standing on City Road. There were about fifteen to twenty of them that Walker could see. They were all dressed in a similar outfit – casual, street clothes for the most part – jeans, vest tops, and what looked like a chunky pair of Doc Martens boots on their feet. Walker noticed that most of their arms were heavily tattooed, displaying an array of striking designs, the precise details of which he couldn’t make out from afar.

  But that wasn’t the half of it.

  Gas masks. The Ghosts were wearing gas masks over their faces. And on top of these gas masks, white or grey judges’ wigs had been attached, adding a uniquely old-fashioned air to this most striking of twenty-first century uniforms. Several short dark horns sprouted from atop the wigs, like a demonic cherry on the cake.

  The gas masks weren’t the usual type that Walker envisioned – he always pictured the darker coloured ones, maybe black or brown or green – the kind that he’d seen featured in the old World War Two highlight reels. He knew about the later British S6 or S10 models too, with a smaller filter canister positioned over the mouth. But the Ghosts were wearing something different. The face piece of their masks were made out of white rubber and it wasn’t just strapped onto the front of the face like with some gas masks – this one fit entirely over the head like a helmet and it obscured the wearer’s features entirely. At the front, two large lenses acted as eyeholes and most notable of all, an extra-large filter canister protruded from the mouth of the mask. The canister grew out of the rubber like a long tumour, providing the Ghosts with a bizarre, extra-terrestrial look.

  “Jesus Christ,” Walker said. “What’s with the fancy dress?”

  “I’ve seen those masks before,” Barboza whispered. “On a film set. They’re Russian civilian gas masks. Creepy as hell man.”

  Walker and the others remained perfectly still, huddled around the entrance of Bunhill Fields.

  Further down the street, the Ghosts were sizing up the building they’d just parked beside. One Ghost was standing on the back of the pickup truck, handing out steel or wooden baseball bats like he was a politician handing out campaign leaflets. Walker noticed too that along with the baseball bats, many of the Ghosts had daggers tucked into a small scabbard that was hanging off a leather belt at their waist.

  Walker heard the engines of both the pickup and the Sprinter van still running. Considering that fuel had to be scarce, he figured that the Ghosts weren’t planning on a long stop here.

  The hunters moved towards the building. Two of the Ghosts started kicking at the front door with the soles of their Doc Martens. There was a harsh, thudding sound that travelled down to where Walker and the others were hiding. At the same time, the sound of smashing glass exploded in Walker’s ears. He saw that several other Ghosts were attacking the large window at the front of the restaurant, going at it with their baseball bats.

  Walker noticed a few of the Ghosts standing behind the attackers, carrying what looked like large cuts of netting.

  That was when he heard a voice in his head.

  Run. Why are you still here? Why are you watching this?

  It didn’t take long for the Ghosts to break into the restaurant. They charged through the door and into the building, a squad of post-apocalyptic stormtroopers tracking some unseen bounty within. Immediately, Walker heard loud thumping noises coming from inside. It sounded like the furniture was being thrown up against the walls.

  Screaming. Both men and women, terrified for their lives.

  There was a sudden explosion of noise. Shattering glass. Walker looked towards the upper floor and saw a figure crashing headfirst through one of the windows. The figure plummeted down towards the street, a thousand shards of broken glass falling with him.

  It was a man.

  He fell swiftly with his body folded up into a tight ball, as if somehow by doing this, it might protect him from the impact below. Walker guessed that it was about twenty feet to the ground from the upper floor window. The man could make it – he would survive the jump, but what about the aftermath?

  The man landed on the road with a sickening thud. As he did so, he rolled over several times on the broken glass, shrieking in pain with each turn of his body. Walker felt like he was standing on the edge of a film set, watching a stunt man doing a take for an action movie.

  The man – who couldn’t have been older than twenty-five – leapt back to his feet and started running down City Road, trying to get away from the building and the Ghosts. He was running towards where Walker and the others were standing, tucked in behind the stone pillars at the entrance of Bunhill Fields.

  But the Ghosts weren’t about to let him get away. Two of the masked men came charging out of the front door of the restaurant, chasing after their prey. The man took off, sprinting at full speed down the middle of the road. Walker looked on in horror. He listened to the man, who was making a weird, animalistic grunting noise as he fled for his life. His face was covered in fresh cuts along the nose, cheeks, mouth and even the eyes, which made it look like he was crying blood.

  The man looked back over his shoulder. The hunters in the white masks and judges wigs were closing in on him. The Ghosts were fast too. Walker noticed that all the ones he he’d seen so far were in impressive physical shape – lean and muscular. Not the type of people who were going to be outrun by just anyone.

  The young man let out a pitiful shriek. His body was betraying him. He was slowing down.

  One of the Ghosts caught up with him, and reached for the young man. He wrapped a sinewy arm around his victim’s neck like it was a hook, and then yanked him backwards at tremendous force. There was a wheezing sound as the man was knocked off his feet and down onto the road. Now he was lying flat on his back and the two Ghosts were standing over him. Several other Ghosts arrived on the scene, but they weren’t running. They were walking at a casual pace, content in the knowledge that they’d won. One of them was carrying a large sheet of netting and when he got closer to the man, he tossed it over him in a scene that reminded Walker of the gladiators in Ancient Rome, the sort of warriors who’d used nets and tridents to get the better of their opponents.

  The young man had no more fight left in him. He remained perfectly still underneath the netting, as if he’d resigned himself to his fate. Two of the Ghosts then dragged their fresh victim back to his feet and led him back along City Road towards where the pickup and the Sprinter van were still waiting with their engines running. The young man was taken around the to back of the Sprinter van and Walker heard the sharp click of the back door opening. Although he couldn’t see what was going on, he imagined they were dumping the man inside.

  Another one for the farm.

  “We have to go,” Barboza said.

  Nobody was about to argue. But just as they were turning around they saw more Ghosts coming out of the restaurant. Walker paused, trying to get a better look and his heart sank at the sight that greeted him. He saw the masked hunters leading out a small group of five or six people, all buried underneath a large net.

  “Oh no,” Carol said.

  At that moment, the sound of screeching tyres exploded from the other end of City Road. Walker’s heart was pounding with fright as he looked over his shoulders to see what was going on behind them.

/>   He saw a car pulling up at the side of a zebra crossing. It was at most, about forty or fifty metres away from the entrance of Bunhill Fields. Walker thought it looked like a black Audi Saloon, or something similar.

  Just as the car pulled up, a lone figure came running across the street. Whoever it was, they were about ten metres away from the car at most. The Audi’s headlights were pointing at the runner, showering them in two tunnels of white light.

  It was a young woman. With the headlights pointing at her, Walker saw that she wasn’t entirely alone after all. She was clutching something tight to her chest – or rather someone. It was a young girl, no more than two or three years of age.

  The woman ran harder. Walker didn’t know how long this game of cat and mouse had been going on, but she must have known how close her pursuer was. The child in her arms began to scream as she was carried across the street in her desperate mother’s arms. Walker saw the blonde hair of the little girl bouncing up and down along to the chaotic rhythm of their escape.

  The car door opened and a lone Ghost stepped out of the driver’s side. Like the other gang members, he was wearing a Russian gas mask and a judges’ wig. Walker noticed that this Ghost also had a police badge hanging over his chest, like it was a medallion. His mask was darker than the others too – a sort of rusty brown colour that contrasted with the whiteness of the wig. He was an impressive physical specimen, even by Ghost standards. He was tall, almost freakishly so, like a thicker, muscular version of an NBA basketball player. His skin was dark brown and unlike the other Ghosts, there were no tattoos on his arms. And while the others Ghosts had knives hanging from their belts, this guy had a full-length sword sitting in a lean scabbard that was positioned on the left hand side of his waist.