by Tim Flanagan
'I agree,' said Steven. 'Georgia, if you drive the car to the porch, Tracker and I can go back for more supplies. Keep the engine running and the doors locked while you wait. If you see anything, honk the horn.' Georgia nodded. She gently drove the car out of the stable block, trying not to draw any attention to it as the tyres crunched over the gravel, and parked as close to the front door as she could.
Minutes later Steven and Tracker were back with more supplies; additional blankets, batteries, more food, medicines, maps and bottled water.
'Where to first?' asked Georgia.
'Let's go back into Parsley Bottom,' instructed Steven. 'It looks like the immediate threat has passed. I think we need to see what's left. There may be more survivors.'
'But the creatures could still be there.'
'I think we're reasonably safe until the sun goes down,' he replied, remembering what Coldred had told them.
Georgia turned left out of the gates and headed towards Parsley Bottom. She drove cautiously and quietly along the road. Trees and bushes cast a dappled shadow across one side of the car. Steven and Tracker continually scanned the sky for any sign of the creatures, but nothing broke the blue expanse for as far as they could see, not even a cloud or bird. It was as if everything had been told to avoid the area. Ahead of them they could see cars parked at unusual angles, some with their doors wide open. Georgia carefully steered the car round the abandoned vehicles as well as the occasional dead body until they were parked in front of the Fox and Hound pub where Steven had stayed the day before. The doors to houses remained open, but the town was silent. No birds sang from the trees. They wound the windows down slightly so they could listen for any sign of anyone alive before turning away from the green in front of the pub and driving along the high street. All three of them were stunned by the emptiness that hung over Parsley Bottom, a void that over time would degrade into a jumble of rubble and weeds leaving nothing more than archaeological remains for future generations to discover.
If the human race managed to survive that long.
There were very few signs to show that people existed in Parsley Bottom, apart from the abandoned houses and cars. It was as if they had all been magically whisked away, plucked from where they stood. In cars they glimpsed dark crusty marks around drivers' doors and windows where blood had been left behind and dried.
The silence was overwhelming. In the road outside the newspaper shop they came across the body of a man sprawled on the ground. The blood that had pooled beneath his head looked reasonably fresh. The window, two stories above the shop, was wide open, the curtains flapping in the breeze. The mud on the window ledge told the story of how the man had died - scared and desperate and unable to understand what had happened he took his own life. As if the creatures had not destroyed enough, the fear that lived inside each survivor had quickly begun to take effect.
None of the occupants in the car said anything. All they could do was stare at what surrounded them and consider the overbearing weight of responsibility that came from being a survivor.
In the park opposite the shops, a breeze caught one of the swings making it squeak harmlessly back and forth, drawing their attention towards it. Unbelievably, a small girl was sitting patiently at the top of a red slide, her knees drawn up beneath her chin looking at the sky. A teddy bear was clamped tightly beneath one arm while she nibbled nervously on the fingernails of the other hand.
'I don’t believe it,' whispered Georgia as she pulled the car up alongside the park and got out without considering the danger. Steven and Tracker automatically followed, scanning the sky for any dark shapes.
'Are you alright?' Georgia asked the girl. 'Where are your parents?'
The skin around the girl's eyes was red and puffy from tears that had long since dried. She turned them down towards Georgia, before suspiciously looking at Tracker and Steven with their guns.
'We're here to help you,' Georgia said reassuringly. 'What's your name? My name's Georgia.'
'Annie,' the girl replied in a nervous voice. 'I'm called Annie.'
'Hi Annie,' said Georgia with a warm smile. 'Where's the rest of your family?'
'The shadows took them away.' The child wiped a wet nose along the sleeve of her top and stared back up into the sky.
'Come on down,' Georgia offered a hand to help her. 'The shadows have gone now. Where's your house?'
The girl pointed towards a row of terraced houses beyond the pub, but seemed reluctant to get down from the slide.
'I promise we won't hurt you. We saw the shadows too. My friends will keep you safe.' Georgia smiled. 'Now, why don’t you show me where your house is and maybe we can find you and your teddy some breakfast?'
The little girl took one last look into the sky, stood up, then climbed down the steps.
As they made their way towards a street of terraced houses, Georgia walked beside the girl trying to make conversation and distract her from seeing the evidence left behind by the creatures. They walked past the body of a man that was slumped against a communal waste bin; a deep slash cut open his chest leaving a matted black crust of blood that had gathered into a sticky mess on the ground. They walked down the centre of the road, feeling both liberated and vulnerable at the same time, until they came to a junction. Down both sides of the road, terraced houses bordered the pavement and towered above them.
This part of the town was no different from the rest of Parsley Bottom. The doors of houses were open and a car that was abandoned in the centre of the road, still had its engine running, but no driver to take it anywhere. Red roof tiles littered the road where they had slid off the top of the old buildings.
At the opposite end of the road was a group of four young men in their twenties, noisily going from house to house, taking advantage of the open doors. Those that weren’t already open had been forced. Televisions, computers and anything else of value that they could find was being added to the growing pile in the back of their lorry. As soon as they spotted Steven, Tracker and Georgia walking down the road they put down what they had, pulled out baseball bats and knives from the front seat of the lorry and began walking down the road to meet them.
3. Coker's Army
'We got here first. This is our street, find your own,' said one of the boys who was obviously happy to take the lead as the spokesperson. He poked a baseball bat at them as if it was an extension of his finger.
'We're not here to steal things,' said Tracker. 'We're not looking for any trouble.'
'You shouldn’t be taking these people's things either,' Steven added.
'Which people?' asked the boy, looking dramatically around him. 'It looks to me like they've gone and left it all, so it's finders keepers.'
The boys continued to walk along the road towards them. They came to a standstill with just a short gap between them, each eyeing the other up cautiously. Steven and Tracker stepped in front of Georgia and the girl instinctively protecting them from the boys.
'There may be others like us that survived, or are injured. They might need our help,' said Georgia. 'We know there are other survivors in London, trying to assemble people together so they can build a community and fight back against the creatures. They may have gone for now, but they will be back and TVs and computers won’t protect you.'
'We have our own group,' shouted one of the other boys who held a large butcher's meat cleaver in his hand. 'Coker gave us our freedom.'
'You're wasting your time looking for the injured,' interrupted the first boy. 'They will only slow you down and bring disease. Coker says when those things attack again, anyone injured, sick or slow will be the first to go. Only the strong will survive.'
'And this Coker of yours, he told you to steal computers?' asked Tracker.
'He sent us out to gather food and clothing, but there's no harm bagging some bits for yourself too, especially when there's no one to stop you.'
'How many of you are there?' asked Steven.
'Dunno. We split into four group
s this morning to search different areas. Some stayed behind to help organise the compound. But, like I've already told you, this is our area so clear off and get your own, or else,' said the first boy.
'What's the compound?' interrupted Tracker, ignoring the threat.
'It's where we live. If the compound hadn’t been built to keep us in, those creatures might have got us too,' boasted the boy.
'Keeps us in, but keeps those things out,' added the meat cleaver boy with a laugh.
'So if we wanted to join Coker's team where would we go?' Tracker asked curiously. Steven shot a look at Tracker, thinking that he wanted to join the boys. Tracker ignored him.
'Bewerley Boys Young Offenders Prison. It's built like a fortress. Those creatures hardly made a scratch on it,' the first boy answered proudly.
'And we should ask for Coker?'
'Yes. He used to be one of the wardens.'
'What happened to the other wardens?' Georgia asked.
The first boy turned to the meat cleaver boy with a sinister smile on his mouth.
'Well,' he said, 'you could say they all happened to be in the exercise yard at the time and couldn’t get in. They got snatched by the creatures. Vanished in seconds like they had been sucked up into the sky. There's just Coker and the boys now.' The tip of his tongue came out slightly to moisten his lips. 'We do need women there if you wanted to join us,' he said to Georgia with a raise of his eyebrow.
'I don’t think so,' Georgia replied with a look of disgust on her face. 'As appealing as spending time with thieves like you would be, I think I'll pass.'
'Take what you will,' interrupted Tracker. 'Just let us go into this little girl's house and look for her family then we'll be on our way.' He raised his gun and rested it on his shoulder in a mildly threatening manner.
The leader of the group took the hint as he warily eyed the shotgun. He then turned away and walked back with the other boys to stand beside their lorry, watching as the girl pointed to one of the houses.
Steven noticed that the front door they were approaching was already slightly open. With a gentle push the blue flecked door swung easily on its hinges and revealed a plainly decorated hall. On one side of the hall, the stairs went up, whilst on the other were two further doors. Tracker still felt uneasy about the boys' presence so sat on the doorstep trying to look like he was casually cleaning his shotgun, but purposely reminding the boys that he was armed. Annie ran inside and leapt up the stairs, closely followed by Georgia. Steven noticed some of the wallpaper in the hall had deep scratches in it where something had been dragged along. There were patches of clear froth like spit in places mixed with blood, but no other signs of life.
The two doors in the hall led through to a lounge and a kitchen, both empty and abandoned. Upstairs was the same. Steven entered the little girl's bedroom. Piles of cuddly toys were gathered at the end of her bed whilst a bookshelf on one wall was overflowing with books and board games.
Steven shook his head to Georgia, signalling to her that there was no one else in the house.
'They've all gone, I'm afraid,' Georgia said gently to Annie.
'They won't be coming back, will they?' Annie asked, even though she already knew the answer.
'No.' Georgia put her arm around the girl's shoulders. 'You will be safer if you stay with us.'
'We can't leave you with those boys outside,' added Steven.
Annie nodded.
Georgia began packing some clothes into a small suitcase she found beneath the girl's bed. They didn’t want to delay any longer than necessary, especially with the gang of boys waiting outside. They were aware of the limited daylight hours they had left to get to London before the creatures came out again. They were already spending longer in Parsley Bottom than necessary.
Annie turned and took a final look at her bedroom as Georgia led her towards the door.
Downstairs, Steven picked up some extra food from the kitchen and followed Georgia and the girl as they made their way towards the front door. Outside the boys had become restless and started throwing stones at windows of the abandoned houses, cheering when they hit their target and shattered the glass. As they threw from one side of the road towards the other, they were completely unaware of an elderly lady who had opened her front door behind them. Tracker watched with a mixture of fear and amusement as the lady swung a frying pan with both hands against one of the boys' heads. Instantly, he slumped to the ground. The remaining boys spun round, picked up their baseball bats and knives and leapt towards the door, but the woman quickly closed it in their faces. One of the boys swung his bat against the door, shattering some bits of the wood into blue painted shards.
Tracker could see that the violence was about to escalate. He squeezed the trigger of his gun and released a shot harmlessly into the air. The bang echoed from one side of the road to the other, instantly grabbing the gang's attention and stopping the attack on the lady's front door.
'Leave her,' he shouted to the boys. 'She's just an old woman trying to defend her property against thieves like you. Take what you've got and go.' He levelled the shotgun towards the boys. Taking the hint, they rapidly lifted their friend off the floor and got into the lorry. The leader of the group revved the engine noisily.
'Coker will hear of this. Don’t think this is the end of it,' he shouted to Tracker. With a squeal of tyre smoke the lorry skidded its way up the centre of the road and turned towards Harrogate.
Cautiously the elderly woman looked through the gap in her front door and into the street.
'We won't harm you,' Steven said, seeing the frightened look in the lady's eyes.
'I overheard your conversation with those boys; have you found any more survivors?' she asked.
'So far only this young girl, yourself and those boys, who I'm sure will be back soon with reinforcements.'
'I'm worth nothing to them. They will happily leave me to those creatures when they return. This town's not what it used to be. I've lost my son and grandson so there's nothing left for me here.' The old lady looked strangely at Tracker. 'You look familiar,' she said, changing the subject.
'I get that a lot. Must have that sort of face,' replied Tracker turning away from the lady.
'Come with us,' said Steven.
They quickly tried as many houses as they could to see if there were any other survivors, but found no more. But, what they did find was another Land Rover which they filled with more food, water and clothing and set off in convoy towards Harrogate.
4. A Road to Danger
The road towards Harrogate was not an easy one to navigate. They were trying to reach the main route which would take them south towards London, but it was slow going. There were no opportunities to gather much momentum as every bend in the road hid a car that had rolled over, been abandoned or crashed into trees. They kept to a slow, but steady speed that allowed them to negotiate around cars. At first they stopped at every car to check for more survivors, but they never found any, so eventually they gave up and just relied on looking through the windows as their car rolled past.
'What will we do when we get to London?' asked Georgia who sat in the passenger seat of the second car next to Steven. Annie was tucked on the back seat amongst the bags of supplies. In front of them the black Range Rover from Butterwick Hall was driven by Tracker together with Shirley Allen, the old lady they had found. Steven carefully steered around some mud that had been churned up by a car that had finished in a ditch at the side of the road.
'We join the other survivors, I suppose,' replied Steven.
'But what if they turn out to be like those boys?'
Steven left the question hanging in the air for a while before choosing to answer. He had been considering the same possibility. If the survivors in London only accepted fit and healthy people, what would happen to the rest? Who would take charge in London? If it was someone like Coker that the boys from the prison had mentioned, then the survivors could be over-ruled by aggression. Intelligence and
compassion would become values that were not accepted in a new society. Everyone would gradually feel the overwhelming need to survive, at any cost.
'I'm unsure what awaits us in London, but we are definitely safer working together than apart. We can't know the true intentions of everyone we meet, including Tracker.' Steven felt comfortable confiding in Georgia. He glanced in his rear view mirror and saw that, despite the jerky motion of the car, Annie had managed to fall asleep.
'But if it wasn't for Tracker we might not be here,' replied Georgia, surprised at Steven's comment. 'He was in danger as much as us last night.'
'I know, but I don't think he's quite who he seems. Doesn't it seem odd to you that there was no one else living in that big house apart from him? And this morning I found him packing his clothes from one of the bedrooms upstairs. I don't believe that a gamekeeper would be given a room like that inside the main house.'
'Actually, now you mention it, I remembered looking at one of the paintings in the dining room when that creature came down the chimney and thought that it looked a bit like Tracker. Who do you think he really is?'
'I'm not sure.'
Georgia picked up the radio they had taken from the kitchen and turned it on. The voice they had heard that morning was gone, replaced by endless static.
Eventually the road became bordered by dry stone walls on both sides and the way ahead seemed clearer and free from obstacles. In front of them Tracker had begun to accelerate slightly, but on the hill in the distance, Steven noticed something unusual.
'Look,' Steven pointed to a lorry that had just driven slowly over the brow of the hill and was coming in their direction. The road immediately ahead dipped down and began to turn left, obscuring them from the line of sight of the lorry. On the apex of the bend was an entrance to a farm.