by RR Haywood
‘You’re thick as shit,’ Dolan counters.
‘You hit Henrietta Swallow.’
‘No. I defended myself from being attacked by Henrietta Swallow.’
‘I was a witless.’
‘Witness,’ Henrietta says. ‘Not witless.’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ Dolan muses. ‘Seems rather apt if you ask me.’
‘Everyone needs to be quiet. The road is right ahead…we need to get across and find a way of following the train line.’
‘What train line?’ Bennie asks, looking round.
‘Jesus, Bennie. It’s above us,’ Henrietta groans.
‘Is it?’ Bennie asks, looking straight up in the air. ‘Where?’
‘On top of…never mind, just stay quiet and keep up.’
‘Ha! I’ll keep it up for you, Henrietta.’
‘Bennie.’
‘Sorry, Henrietta.’
They reach a backstreet of terraced houses built when the bridge carrying the train line was constructed. Cheap housing in exchange for living next to the constant noise and rattle of engines whistling past. The front doors to the two up, two down houses rest open with the grimy windows smashed, broken or spattered with blood that lies in thick pools on the pavement. A low groan draws Henrietta further from the mouth of the alley to glance down at an old man dragging himself along the ground while his mangled and crushed back legs drag uselessly behind him. For a second she goes to move, to rush to his aid, but the movement of the head and the noise of the groan soon have her backing away to sink into the shadows. A scene of war, of devastation and suffering. Recent, too, judging from the still-glistening blood smears everywhere. Smoke still hangs in the air and she knows the fire somewhere to their backs will be raging uncontrolled.
The railway crosses the road supported on a high bridge arched in the middle to allow the traffic to pass underneath. Two huge supporting columns on either side of the road plastered with posters, flyers, graffiti and signs warning that trespassers on railway property will be prosecuted. They have to follow the line but the bridge butts against the end terraced house, cutting the route off.
She goes out into the street, peering down the road hoping to see the other side and a clear way through. More houses down that side, more terraced brick built low-priced dwellings inhabited by true Londoners born into a world of fumes, noise and crime. A chain-link fence spans a gap between the bridge and the first house on the other side. She stares up at the coiled razor wire looping the top and feels a growing worry at having to walk through the street. Something catches her eye. The lower corner of the fence has been cut and bent out to create a small gap. It is small, only big enough for a child, but if they can get through and into the wasteland following the tracks it will keep them off the main roads.
‘Come on.’ She walks briskly, building to a jog with the knife clutched in her hand and longing to go into one of the houses to wash the shit from her hands and the puke from her back. The thought of a cooling drink of water makes her mouth go dry and she swallows with the image of an ice-cold glass of pure water strong in her mind.
They reach the corner of the fence and bunch up close while Henrietta passes her knife to Bennie, then thinks better of it and takes it back to hand to Brian. She grips the fence and heaves it higher from the ground, bending the links up that strain and stretch against the small wire loops, tying them to the concrete posts.
‘Dolan, you first,’ she says with a look round at the street.
‘Why me?’ he asks, reverting back to panicked mode at the prospect of doing anything first.
‘You’re the biggest,’ she says, straining to hold the fence up. ‘Quickly…’
‘I am not going through that hole first.’
‘I’ll go,’ Brian says, pushing past the bigger man. He drops to a crouch and crawls through the fence, laying the knives in reach before standing on the other side and helping to lift the fence.
‘Dolan…’ Henrietta motions with her head but still the man hesitates. ‘Rose then…get through.’
‘Are you coming?’ Rose asks Bennie.
‘I think so. Am I coming?’ Bennie asks Henrietta.
‘Yes. Get through. Quick.’
Rose drops down with Bennie leaning back to admire her backside while Henrietta glares daggers at him. He shrugs with a wolfish grin then drops down to crawl close behind Rose as Dolan shoulders him aside and starts crawling, panicked and rushed, banging into Rose from behind and grunting for her to move faster.
‘Slow down,’ Henrietta whispers as Dolan tries to use his bulk to force Rose through.
‘Get out the fucking way,’ Dolan snarls at Rose as the fear builds at his back being presented to what he imagines is a street full of monsters ready to savage his arse. ‘Fucking move…’
‘I’m caught,’ Rose wails. ‘My hair.’
‘Shush,’ Henrietta implores them to be quiet.
‘My hair is caught.’
‘Just fucking move.’ Dolan pushes on heedless to the strands of her hair trapped in the links of the fence. Rose desperately twists her head side to side in an effort to free them.
‘Bri, hold the fence up,’ Henrietta says, letting go too fast. The fence sags down, driving the sharp broken points into the back of Rose’s neck, who screams out in sudden pain.
‘Shut up!’ Dolan hisses.
‘Rose, be quiet…we’ll get you through,’ Henrietta whispers, frantically trying to lift the fence up one-handed while working at the strands of hair trapped and entwining. Beads of dark blood drip thick and fast to form red rivers down the back of Rose’s neck and her whimpers grow louder as she starts bucking and thrashing.
‘Cut her hair,’ Henrietta urges, taking the weight of the fence in her hands.
‘DON’T CUT MY HAIR.’
‘Shut up, Rose, you have to be quiet,’ Henrietta says.
‘DON’T CUT MY HAIR.’
‘Shut that fucking bitch up…just pull her through,’ Dolan says, trying to crawl over Rose. Brian grabs a knife and works to saw through the strands that ping and break, releasing the pressure from Rose who scampers through sobbing hard and loud with Dolan forcing her on.
‘Bennie,’ Henrietta grunts, ‘quick…’
‘Yup.’ Bennie drops down, taking care to keep his bottle of whiskey upright. Surprisingly agile, he gets through with ease and crawls past Dolan to Rose.
‘Henrietta,’ Brian urges, dropping the knives to grip the fence while the other three worry about their own safety, hair and whiskey.
Henrietta steps back into the street to scan both sides. Seeing them still empty, she dives for the hole and snakes through, cursing herself for having such big implants put into her chest, which get squished into the dirt and grit.
A bedraggled Henrietta gets to her feet with that ever-pressing need to keep moving and keep pushing on. There is a goal now, an objective to reach. Follow the railway, find a station, work out where they are and head for the shortest route out of the city.
‘Get up.’ She heaves Bennie to his feet guiding him on with a gentle push. ‘Dolan, up…come on…’ She bends down to help him up but falters before the contact is made with the sudden memory of his hand whipping out in the work unit. He notices the hesitancy and looks up with a keen expression and yet another display of power shown as his hand stretches out.
‘Help me up.’ A command, not a request, and he makes no effort to lift his own body but waits for her hand to clasp his and only then does he apply power to his legs.
‘Rose,’ Henrietta says, turning away from Dolan and feeling a growing sense of discomfort at being near him.
‘I’m bleeding,’ Rose whimpers, soft and pathetic with her hand coming away from her neck covered in a thin layer of blood.
‘It’s just a nick,’ Henrietta says reaching down to pull the girl up. ‘We’ve got to keep moving.’
‘I need a hospital.’
‘You don’t. It’s just a cut, I promise.’
‘I
’m scarred for life. This will haunt me and make my demons worse. Like, totally worse.’
‘You won’t get a scar. Come on, we have to move…please, Rose.’
‘I’m tired,’ she bleats, staggering a few steps on heavy legs.
‘We’re all tired but we cannot stay here.’
‘Why not?’ Rose asks, whining like a child.
‘It’s dangerous, that’s why.’
‘I wanna go home.’
‘We can’t go home, either. We just have to keep going.’
‘For how long?’
‘I don’t know. Not far,’ Henrietta says, trying to pull the girl on who walks heavy with heels digging into the ground and her feet dragging small steps.
‘I feel sick…I think I’m bleeding to death.’
‘Rose, please. Stop dragging your feet.’
‘I said I was tired. I said I’m bleeding to death. No one cares about me.’
‘Oh god, Rose, please. We don’t have time for this. We have to get moving…’
‘Rose, come on, mate,’ Brian calls out softly from further ahead.
‘I don’t want to go down there. It’s dark and scary. I want my dad…’
‘You’re seventeen, Rose. You’re an adult,’ Henrietta says, forcing a calm tone out despite the rising urge to just grab the girl and drag her bodily.
‘Carry me.’
‘What?’
‘Carry me,’ Rose says pitifully.
‘I can’t…you’re too heavy, Rose…’
‘Heavy? You mean fat?’
‘Eh? No! But anyone is heavy to carry and I carried you before…Rose, you’re an adult, not a child. Please, we’re too close to the road to have this argument now.’
‘You carried me before,’ Rose says, reverting to a sulky tone that works so well on her guilt-riddled father.
‘Henrietta, get that bitch moving.’
‘Dolan, I am trying. Rose, please. For me…please keep moving.’
‘He called me a bitch. That’s bullying.’
‘Henrietta, I mean it. Get that little bitch moving or we’re leaving her behind.’
‘DON’T LEAVE ME…’
‘Shush, we’re not leaving you but you have to walk, Rose. Please, for the love of god just walk.’
‘You listen to me, you fat little whore.’ Dolan looms sudden and fierce from the shadows to glare down at Rose. ‘You’ll fucking walk or we’ll leave you here. NOW MOVE.’
‘Stop shouting,’ Henrietta says urgently, staring back at the hole in the fence they came through, which is still too close for comfort.
‘Right, fine,’ Dolan states with a huff. ‘Leave the little bitch here.’
‘Rose, we’re going,’ Henrietta says, injecting some firmness into her voice. She tightens her grip on the girl’s hand and starts pulling. ‘Come on…now, Rose.’
‘Stop pulling me…you’re hurting my hand! GET OFF…’
Brian rushes back, staring frantically at the chain-link fence. ‘You’ve got to be quiet.’
‘She’s hurting me,’ Rose shouts petulantly.
‘Then just walk,’ Brian pleads. ‘Please, love. Come on…’
‘I said I was tired. I. AM. TIRED.’
‘You’re bloody spoilt is what you are,’ Dolan snaps. ‘Fuck her, leave her behind.’
‘Henrietta,’ Brian says, ‘let’s just go…she’ll catch up.’
‘I won’t,’ Rose says with a pout. She yanks her hand from Henrietta to obstinately fold her arms.
‘Then stay here,’ Brian says. ‘Henrietta, we have to go.’
‘Walk with me, Rose,’ Henrietta says, trying another tactic. ‘Come on, hold my hand.’
‘I am not a child.’
‘You’re fucking acting like one.’
‘Dolan, stop shouting at her.’
‘She is holding us up, the fucking little tramp.’
‘I am not a tramp.’
‘Rose, we’re going,’ Henrietta says with a sigh. ‘Trust me, you do not want to stay here on your own.’
‘I’ll scream if you leave me.’
‘Why?’ Henrietta cries out in frustration. ‘Do you understand? We cannot stay here. We’re too close to the road.’
‘I am tired.’
‘Henri,’ Brian says, motioning with his head. ‘Come on…’
‘I give up,’ Henrietta says, walking off after Bennie. ‘Catch us up.’
‘I said I will scream.’
‘And those things will come and kill you,’ Brian says, walking after Henrietta.
‘Tramp,’ Dolan spits the last insult out and strides after Henrietta.
Every action has a reaction. The whole of mankind is a sequence of actions, counteractions and consequences, and in Rose a myriad of emotions build up at the belief they would not leave her. In truth, Rose did not know what she wanted other than attention, and any attention is better than no attention. Spoilt? Yes. Selfish? Yes. Immature? Very. Alone? Frightened? Ill equipped with the mental faculties to understand the concept of real life and death? Absolutely. Each of those plays a part in forming a fleeting decision to fold her arms harder, stamp her foot and draw a huge intake of air that hurts her already-tender throat and the piercing scream that follows is high-pitched and rolls far in the quietness of the streets. Heads snap round. Heads with bloodshot eyes. Legs start moving with arms hanging lifeless and heads lolling as saliva glands start working overtime to prepare the infection to be passed from the bite that will be delivered.
True realisation hits Henrietta. That the girl meant what she said and never before has such a selfish act ever been perpetrated in her presence. Hatred bubbles to the surface as she runs back with a face set and determined and strong arms that ram into Rose, driving her down into the ground with a whump of air that cuts the scream off. Rose goes to scream again as the split-second shock of being taken down wears off but a hand covered in shit clamps hard with two eyes glaring down and a look of absolute warning being conveyed. Rose’s eyes spread wide as the first real fact of the danger faced hits home. This isn’t a game. This is real. Henrietta Swallow is pinning her down on the ground smothering her mouth.
The silence that follows is loaded with malevolent intent. A precursor to the thing Henrietta knows must be coming. There’s no way that scream wasn’t heard. Her hand tightens the grip on the handle of the knife as she lifts her head up to stare at the hole in the chain-link fence.
Without taking her eyes from that point of entry she eases her hand down from Rose’s mouth and grips a fistful of the girl’s T-shirt. Gently, easily, slowly but with strength she stands up, forcing Rose up and onto her feet. The girl stays silent, terrified at the change in Henrietta who doesn’t glance away from the fence.
One second. Two seconds. Three. Four. Silence. Five seconds. Henrietta’s hand releases the T-shirt and slides round to Rose’s back and she starts pushing the girl behind her, making her walk, and this time Rose goes willingly.
The screech comes clear. A sound of animalistic rage that rips the air apart, ramping Henrietta’s heart rate as adrenaline starts coursing through her system.
‘Go…Go…GO.’ Henrietta heaves at Rose as the first sound of drumming feet reaches her ears. A dull growling noise comes into bearing. Directional and from both sides of the street. Henrietta turns to run but finds Rose still walking in dazed horror at what just happened. She slams into her, taking her down, but this time by mistake rather than by design. On instinct, Rose spreads her hands out to break the fall and lands heavy on a broken shard of glass lying unseen in the dirty long grass. She screams again but this time from pain in her hand that pumps blood thick and fast down her wrist. Another explosion of pain but from the back of her head as Henrietta grabs her hair and pulls her up onto her feet, forcing her on. ‘Move,’ Henrietta orders, growling the word out. ‘Fucking move.’
Henrietta doesn’t need to turn and see when she hears the impact of the bodies slamming into the chain-link fence. Dull thuds and the rattle of me
tal against concrete. More thuds. Growls and hisses as the infected catch sight of the prey they can smell.
Still holding Rose by the hair Henrietta runs on, propelling the girl in front of her. Rose brings her hands up to try to push Henrietta away but the blood has made her own grasp slick and wet. She wails louder, filled with terror and pain as Henrietta pushes harder.
‘Shut up,’ Henrietta begs with increasing anger at the selfish girl who keeps screaming out. She feels something wet spraying her face and flicks her head. Into the shadows they run. Brian now in the lead with Bennie and Dolan behind him and Henrietta trying to catch up with Rose wailing in pain. Dollops of liquid hit Henrietta’s cheeks. Again she flinches but hears the fence being torn down and the sound of bodies falling through. The pressure is on again. The chase has begun once more.
They follow the bridge running past the wide supporting columns, catching sight of the moon through the high-arched gaps. From deep shadows to moonlit scrub they run on with no idea of what is ahead.
Rose descends into a living hell of pain from her hand. Without conscious thought she slaps and works at Henrietta clutching her hair, trying to get the woman off.
Henrietta snatches a glance back and sees figures lumbering after them in that distinctive stiff-legged run that covers ground so fast. She applies more speed, powering her legs to pump harder. Stones and ruts dig into her bare feet. Sharp things that threaten to cut and open the skin, but she pays no heed and just the desire to survive and keep the others alive keeps her moving.
Lights ahead and the dark shadows of buildings silhouetted against the night sky. That could be good or bad. It’s a possible way out of this area but the chain-link fence might border the perimeter, effectively sealing them inside. They could veer off underneath the bridge, but an instinct tells her that is a bad idea. Land in London is always at a premium so the width of this space would not be great. Keep going. Head for the lights and hope for the best while planning for the worst.
Dolan starts dropping back. His wheezing is audible from the gasped breaths and the way his legs stagger ungainly as he tries to keep going. Bennie and Brian start slowing down, too.
‘The lights,’ Henrietta shouts the words out. ‘Go for the lights…’