The Moon Stealers Box Set. Books 1-4 (Fantasy Dystopian Books for Teenagers)

by Tim Flanagan

  ‘He’s got a gun,’ Steven said into the handset.

  'I see it. Get the weapons ready, just in case,' crackled Tracker's voice. Steven already had a gun laid across his lap ready. They slowed down as they approached, then stopped a safe distance away. Tracker opened his car door and took a step onto the tarmac with his hands in the air to show that he was not a threat. He knew that Steven, Georgia and even Shirley, all had guns ready to use if things went wrong.

  'What d' you want?' shouted the man.

  'We're travelling to London,' Tracker replied.

  'You heard the radio broadcast too?'

  Tracker nodded. 'Is that where you're heading?'

  'Yes. But, we’ve come across all sorts o' people that think they can take our plough an' supplies from us. Hope you’re not thinkin' o' doing the same.'

  'Don't worry, we have our own supplies.'

  'Well, don't think you can add mine to them.'

  'It's taken us a long time to make it this far down the A1. We were just making the most of the path you have cleared. We mean you no harm. We just want to get to London as quickly as possible.'

  'So do I. How many of you are there?'

  'Six altogether. What about you?'

  'Just me an' my son, but he's not well.'

  'What's wrong with him?' asked Tracker.

  'Don't know. Been sick since we went fishin' three days ago. Are you a doctor?' asked the man.

  'No, but we may be able to help him. Can my friend have a look at him?'

  The man frowned a little as if he was deciding whether to trust Tracker or not. In the end his concern for his son's health got the better of him.

  ‘OK. But don’t try anythin' silly,’ replied the man.

  Tracker beckoned to Steven to get out of the car.

  Leaving his gun on the passenger seat, Steven limped alongside the car.

  'What's wrong with your foot?' asked the plough man.

  'I injured my ankle fighting a creature,' replied Steven who had heard the conversation Tracker had had with the man. 'I might be able to help your son. Can I take a look at him?'

  Still slightly reluctant and cautious, the man waved them closer to the plough, but didn’t trust them enough to allow them to enter. Instead, the man carried his son out of the cab and laid him gently on the surface of the road. Steven knelt over the boy. He was about seven years old, his body was limp and unresponsive, with white and waxy skin, except for his fingertips which looked blackened and dead. Steven noticed that the boys’ lips had turned a shade of blue and there was crusty dry blood gathered in each corner of his mouth.

  'Where did you go fishing?' Steven asked.

  'Selby Canal, south of York.'

  Steven thought back to when he had tracked the path of the bacteria from Parsley Bottom to Harrogate via the river network for the benefit of his superiors in MI6. He distinctly remembered the River Ouse, a larger river that turned into the Humber before feeding the North Sea. It had gone past Selby. It was possible that the boy and his father could unknowingly have become infected by the alien bacteria that was in the water.

  'Did you catch anything?' Steven asked.

  'No. Been there plenty of times before, but there didn’t seem t' be as many fish as usual. Saw plenty o' dead ones though. Joel even picked one out of the water that was floating on the surface.'

  'And your son became ill after that?'

  'Yes. He felt sick that night, then yesterday he wouldn't wake up. I wanted t' get him t' London as quick as I could. The radio said there was a group of survivors there. I thought someone would be able to help him.'

  'The river could have been infected with bacteria,' explained Steven. 'I have some tablets in the car that might help him, but I'm not sure. He may have progressed too far and his body might not be able to repair itself.'

  Tracker went back to Georgia's car and found a box of antibiotics as well as an unopened bottle of water, then took them back over to Steven. Steven placed a tablet into the mouth of the boy then dribbled a little water in. Instinctively the boy swallowed.

  'Take some yourself, just in case you came in contact with the bacteria too,’ Steven said to the man. ‘We need to get to London quickly. He will need more care than I can give.'

  'Who are you?' asked the man.

  'I was working in Yorkshire checking water quality when those creatures attacked,' lied Steven. 'If we all stay together we can reach London safely - but not today. There isn't enough time to make the rest of the journey before the sun goes down.'

  'What about my son?'

  'As soon as the light begins to fade, the creatures will be out again. They are relentless predators looking for food, and no matter how strong the plough is, they will get in and kill you both. Make for London tomorrow in the daylight and you stand a much greater chance of saving him than driving through the night.'

  The man picked up the lifeless body of his son and gently placed him back into the cab, then came back out to speak to Steven and Tracker.

  'Where do you suggest we head for?'

  'With the plough clearing the way, we should be able to get down to Audley End, near Cambridge,' replied Steven. He took the road atlas from the car and spread it out on the bonnet for the man to see.

  As soon as they got back into the cars, the plough began to move forward down the carriageway once again. Both of the Range Rovers followed at a safe distance, driving constantly at a steady speed. Two hours later they were following signs off the A1 towards Audley End.

  They parked at the side of the house next to the service wing, took a couple of bags of supplies out of the back of the cars, as well as guns and extra ammunition, then entered a low stone building. The servants' quarters had been refurbished for the benefit of tourists and they found the doors unlocked. Inside, it was cold and slightly damp, the walls were made of thick stone with small windows. Tables, chairs and equipment had been added to furnish the room as it had been, but the survivors used them to block the doors as they moved through the building. They settled inside the laundry room, which had only three small windows facing onto the yard. Below these windows were long benches that stretched the length of the wall and were hidden from view, providing a useful hiding place for the night. Joel, the plough man’s son, was gently placed on a blanket beneath one of the stone tables and wrapped in several layers of clothes and coats. Everyone else crouched down out of view putting on as many clothes as they could to keep warm. Annie nestled into Mason's thick fur coat, sharing body heat with the dog. Georgia lit the small camping stove they had found in the farmhouse after they left Parsley Bottom, and cooked bacon and sausages on it using a metal tray as a frying pan.

  Once the sun had gone down the creatures came out to play. Steven made a mental note of the time he heard the first scream of a creature in the sky. If they were changing and evolving to become less effected by light, he knew that the time they came out would get earlier every day. That night, despite the thuds and screams that cut through the night air, they all managed to get some periods of rest, huddled together beneath the work top, sharing their body heat. Steven, Tracker, Georgia and Trent, the plough man, took it in turns to stay awake, ready to alert the others if the creatures discovered their hiding place and tried to break in.

  15. An Update from London

  It was quiet and peaceful when they emerged from the service wing at Audley End. The sky was the first thing they checked for any signs of a creatures but thankfully there were none. It had the promise of being a pleasant day. The open sky showed nothing but a few wispy white clouds that were motionless, as if hanging by a piece of string. The mellow call of a swan echoed in the silence as it glided gracefully across the surface of the river. But her call for its signets would probably never be answered. All around there seemed to be small signs of life that they hadn’t seen for the last two days. A squirrel ran head first down the trunk of a tree in short bursts of movement, paused at the base then scrabbled frantically in the ground as it look
ed for one of its stashes of acorns.

  A black shape moved in front of the clouds, but instead of a creature, Steven watched two starlings playfully chase each other in a sky that was currently free from danger. How long that danger would be confined to darkness, he had no idea, but for now, he was pleased to see that animals were beginning to come out of hiding, quickly learning that the daylight brought them some safety.

  Although the night had been broken by the screams of the creatures as they hunted for prey, it had also been broken by the murmurings of Joel as he fought against his illness. This morning he had opened his eyes. His body was still limp and lifeless, but his eyes showed that life was beginning to return to his body. As they began loading the vehicles ready to make the final leg of their journey to London, Steven took one last look around.

  Another call from amongst the wooded area far away to the right, was followed by the large graceful shape of a second swan that glided low over the river before skiing on its feet as it descended into the water close to the first swan. As the cars drove off, Steven smiled as he watched the swan's necks entwine, an embrace of genuine affection. He left with a hope that maybe the love that one species had for its own kind could actually save them against this new and deadly invader. If humans could work together they had a better chance of staying alive. But it could also be their downfall. Whenever people worked together there would always be divisions, clashes of personality, morals and beliefs. He had seen it inside MI6. Some departments thought they were superior to others. He remembered the morning in the lift several days ago when Davison had mocked him and made a joke about the possibility of alien life forms. Steven wondered what Davison was doing now - was he still alive? Groups of people would need a lot of organisation and leadership, but with that came power and control. The right person could inspire, but the wrong person could cause the group to fracture. Too many groups of people could result in a fight for survival. With food and water limited, some humans would stop at nothing to gain an upper hand in their bid to survive, which could have deadly consequences. Coker and the boys from Bewerley Offenders Prison had already shown a lack of human compassion for the young, elderly and sick. To Steven, that compassion was what made him human, without it he would just be an animal fighting to stay alive. But then, maybe that was what they had all become - just another animal on the planet, stripped of all the commercial niceties of life they had enjoyed and taken for granted. Now the human race was broken. Everyone needed food and water, but the lifeblood of civilisation; electricity and petrol, was going to be limited until the day it ran dry. What would happen then? Steven wished he had paid more attention to history lessons at school instead of being obsessed with astronomy and space, and the possibility of life on other planets. The disability of the planet would make life difficult to rebuild, but he was sure that it could be rebuilt in some form. It may have set mankind back by a century or two, but Steven felt positive that humans would survive. But, being so disabled and having the creatures growing to be so dominant made him unsure. There were so many of them! How could they be stopped? At least if the numbers of creatures could be controlled, the human race would stand a better chance.

  Steven laughed to himself. It was ironic that he had always been searching for aliens, and now he was trying to think of a way to repress or even destroy the first ones to come to Earth. But, he hadn’t expected it to have such deadly consequences for the human race. If he truly thought about it, he didn’t know what he had expected. He never really got past the question of whether other life forms existed. Maybe mankind had become so obsessed with wanting to find another intelligent species in the solar system, that it forgot to ask what to do when we found it. In this case, the alien life form found Earth and had quickly and ruthlessly knocked humans from their pedestal at the top of the food chain and put us level with other animals. Maybe our time on the planet was over. Maybe we hadn’t prepared ourselves sufficiently to live with other animals whether they originated on Earth or any other planet. Had we lost sight of living? Had electronics, clothes, fashion and above all money, overcome the true nature of living? Maybe our failings as human beings had left us vulnerable and distracted. No, thought Steven defiantly. We may be made up of flesh and blood, but we are so much more than mere animals. We have the intelligence and ingenuity to survive. We are humans and we are worthy of our place on this planet. No other species even comes close to our progress and development. We have survived wars, plagues and famines. We live in all types of conditions on every terrain across the planet and have rebuilt after every earthquake, tsunami and disaster. We are resilient. We will survive. When disaster strikes, we pull together.

  Steven pulled the radio out from beneath his seat and turned it on. He had left it on the same frequency they had heard the first broadcast on, but today there was nothing more than the empty sound of static background noise. He left it on as they continued to drive behind the plough.

  About twenty minutes later the static broke into a high pitched whistle. Steven grabbed the radio and turned the volume up, at the same time he switched the walkie-talkie on for Tracker, Shirley and Dylan to hear. Georgia began flashing the headlights in the car to signal to Trent. He noticed, stopped, jumped out and ran back towards the Range Rover.

  The voice with the American accent came through the speakers once more.

  'I am speaking to you from the American Embassy in London. We know there are survivors out there, other than ourselves. Many have joined us since the human race was attacked, but the space inside the Embassy has quickly reached capacity and we can no longer stay together in the one building. We have separated into several different communities, taking over other secure buildings around London. Fortunately, we have the capability to communicate with these other groups. There is a high proportion of dead and dying in the streets of the city and disease is becoming increasingly common. We have limited fresh bottled water which we have to use due to the commercial water supply becoming stagnant and infectious. Typhoid and cholera has been seen on the streets of London during some of our daily patrols. As a result, we will be moving out of London sooner than expected. Please listen carefully to the following list. Make your way to one of these locations and join us in the next forty-eight hours. Go to 10 Downing Street, MI6 headquarters or the Bank of England. After forty-eight hours we will be moving away from London and the disease. Good luck to anyone who hears this broadcast. Find shelter before nightfall. We will survive.'

  16. The Bank of England

  Towards the end of the morning the convoy entered London from the north east on roads that were crowded once again with abandoned cars. They passed the greenery of Hackney Marsh and Victoria Park, before turning south towards Whitechapel. On the horizon directly in front of them, the famous 'Gherkin' building stuck up like a rocket being primed to escape into space. The blue and grey structure reflected the sun-light on its mass of glass, shining against the morning sky as if nothing was any different. On the left, the old Royal London Hospital watched their progress, whilst on the right, row upon row of terraced houses with street level shop awnings stood deserted. Some had cars half embedded within the glass windows, whilst others had been purposely smashed by looters. Behind the odd bus shelter and red telephone box, the remains of a body poked out, reminding them of the dangers ahead. London seemed eerie being so quiet; the usual drone of taxis, squeals of bus brakes and chatter of pedestrians had been replaced with a breathy air and silence that was almost deafening. Occasionally, from within the windows above the shops, a face would look out suspiciously, hearing the loud growl of the snow-plough, but would quickly withdraw from view, cautious of anyone else and desperate to cling to whatever they had salvaged for themselves.

  More cars were pushed to the side of the road, penned up against the metal railings. They passed the East London Mosque and the Muslim Centre, both buildings standing out against the repetitive and drab shop fronts of the older buildings. Gradually, the buildings became taller as the
y approached the City of London, a stark contrast to the openness of the countryside they had become used to. The buildings seemed to lean over the road, confining them to their cars, making them feel small and insignificant. They continued through Aldgate, past the Metal Exchange and down Cornhill until they could see the vast stone building of the Bank of England on their right.

  'Do you think we should just walk up and knock on the door?' Georgia asked Steven.

  'I suppose so. It seems like the obvious thing to do,' he replied.

  There were surprisingly few vehicles around the bank. Steven wondered if they had been purposely removed or maybe they were out, being used by bank survivors to search for supplies or anyone else.

  They parked their vehicles out of sight down a small street beside the Royal Exchange, then everyone got out. Trent carried his son in his arms. Ever since they had left Audley End, Joel had looked better. There was more colour in his face and his eyes had become alert to his surroundings. They made their way across the road towards the bank. There were no obvious entrances at the front of the building on

  Threadneedle Street so they began walking to the left side where they could see signs for the underground. Everywhere was so quiet. Far away in the distance a crack echoed in the air that sounded like either a car backfiring or a gunshot. They exchanged glances with each other. Everyone was nervous, fearful of what awaited them.

  The left side of the building that bordered

  Princes Street was plain and grey except for a couple of elaborately carved entrances. The first they came to was a pair of double doors bordered by two large pillars of stone and made of thick dull bronze. There were two lions each holding giant keys moulded into each side of the doors that looked quizzically at the visitors. Tracker glanced at the others then knocked on the door. The knock didn’t echo at all, just stayed flat with a resonating sound that vibrated through the metalwork. They stood waiting, glancing nervously up