Harry Styles and the New York Apocalypse

by G. B. Hope

  At the first break in the rain they left the train carriage and set off walking along the track in the direction of central Boston. The plan was to stay away from the roads, and in doing so stay away from other people - to get into Boston and evaluate the situation. Either the Government was in control, or the city was in chaos, in which case they would get beyond it as quickly as possible. Liam decided not to mention how they had seen the burning horizon the other day.

  They would camp in the most secluded spot alongside the tracks. Sometime the next day, said Julius, they would get there.

  Everyone carried something; the men lugged the new tents and the rucksacks they already possessed, while Sabrina carried a bag of extra supplies and Allison, grudgingly, had been given a small gas stove.

  The threat of another rain shower, and the fact that they happened to be alongside the shell of some derelict railway building, had the men deciding to pitch the tents. Allison and Sabrina took shelter while Julius and Liam played happy campers, putting up the tents against a wall.

  Julius turned to Allison. ‘Let’s go collect firewood.’

  ‘Won’t it all be wet?’

  ‘Not all.’ Then to Liam, ‘Will you arrange the inside of the tents?’

  Liam nodded. He watched, amused, as Allison followed Julius out into a slight squall. Then he looked at Sabrina, shivering slightly. ‘Get in, pick a girls’ tent.’

  Sabrina entered a tent. ‘Have I got to share with Allison?’

  Liam laughed, following her in. He started to unroll the two sleeping bags for that tent. ‘Take off your outer layer. You’ll soon be warm. You can have this tent to yourself. We’ll take Allison in with us, smother her during the night.’

  ‘I’d prefer to be in with you.’

  That was nice, thought Liam. But was it inappropriate? He looked across at Sabrina, now out of her coat. Such a cute babe. Black eyes, pale lips.

  ‘Lift your butt,’ he told her, sliding a sleeping bag underneath her.

  A tear fell from Sabrina’s right eye. It landed on his hand. She was frightened, of course, nine or ten thousand miles from home. He took her into his arms and hugged her tight.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sabrina. I should have realised how scared you were.’

  ‘People killing people,’ she whispered to his neck.

  ‘I know. We’ll get through it. Things will improve. We’ll get to some authorities and they’ll take us away from all this.’

  ‘I don’t want to be away from you, Liam.’

  ‘I won’t leave you. Don’t worry. Hey, why don’t you get inside the bag and get warm? I’ll figure out this stove. They’ll be back soon and we’ll have hot tea.’

  She grinned, did what he said. He sat on the other sleeping bag and examined the little metal stove.

  In the end they all stayed in the same tent - it was large enough. They cooked sausage sandwiches and brewed sweet tea on the portable stove, just outside. As night fell, Liam and Julius agreed to take turns on watch, two hours on, two hours off, leaving the girls to sleep. There had been another brief lesson in handling the gun from Julius, but Liam had been told to wake the big man if he heard anything, rather than to start popping away.

  The morning brought clear, blustery weather. They made more tea and all ate biscuits. Then they quickly packed their gear away, ready to push on to what they hoped would be civilisation. Allison distanced herself from having to carry the stove, going out onto the track to breathe deeply and look both ways into the hazy distance. Liam shoved the stove between his knapsack and his shoulders. He looked at Sabrina, her jet black hair being blown about until she trapped it in her coat. She caught him watching her and gave him a grin.

  ‘Ready?’ called Julius.

  ‘Ready!’ replied Liam. ‘Let’s continue the yomp, or the tab, whatever it is they call it in the British army.’

  ‘Ready!’ laughed Sabrina, getting into the spirit.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Allison, glum-faced.

  They talked of family back home, as they walked along. Apparently, Sabrina had the biggest family in the world, taking up most of the Menteng area of Jakarta. Allison’s turn to talk of home was suddenly interrupted, as three figures moved down onto the track, a few hundred yards ahead of them. Julius immediately made the women walk behind him and Liam. It was three men up ahead, in long raincoats - the kind that hide shotguns in the movies. Their movements were so casual that it was obvious they had come down to cut across their route. Julius checked behind them, but it was just the three men.

  Liam felt his heart rate increase. A confrontation was inevitable. There was no point trying to divert, the men’s faces were distinguishable by then. One of them called a welcome, but his words were taken by the wind. Julius gestured for his people to stay still, as he moved to approach the men. Liam had his hand on his pistol, in his pocket, sliding off the safety, trying not to shoot himself in the thigh. To him, the men looked frightening, all bearded and equally scruffy. Sabrina moved to hold Liam from behind, but he sent her back to Allison. He tried to hear what was being said up front, but it was difficult. Perhaps he had been wrong, maybe there would be nods and greetings as the two groups passed each other… Julius was suddenly aiming his gun and shooting, simultaneously a black machine gun came up in the hand of the man to the right, blazing orange fire. Liam had never been more explosively terrified, blood rushing to his head and stopping time for a fraction of a second. All at the same time, he thought of bringing out his gun, of reaching back to cover the girls, of seeing the other men bring out hand guns. For some reason he found himself sat on his backside, his gun out in front of him, hearing screams behind, seeing the man with the Uzi fall (because it was an Uzi, that weapon he had thought of earlier, that small box shape, he could clearly see it). Bullets whistled about his head, the other men shooting. It was Julius being knocked backwards that prompted Liam to shoot at human beings for the first time in his life. Shockingly he knew he was aiming properly, and one of his four carefully loosed shots caught one of the remaining men in the left arm. The man screamed and turned away. The third man decided to retreat, pulling his injured colleague with him, glancing at the downed, still form of the man with the Uzi.

  It was over. Sabrina had run to kneel beside Julius. Liam stood, his knees knocking, still aiming his gun at the fleeing pair. Liam checked the man with the Uzi; that was a dead man and no mistake. The Uzi now belonged to Liam. Just handling it scared the life out of him.

  Sabrina’s wailing told him that Julius was dead, even before he walked back to see for himself. Allison hadn’t moved, that selfish bitch. But maybe he was being harsh, he decided; she was probably scared witless. Sabrina rose and rushed into his arms. Her hair was flowing wild as he clamped her head to his chest. She was his now and it was down to him to protect her.

  FOURTEEN

  The two groups who had walked off Manhattan Island: the Springsteens and the D’Acampo’s, both reached their destinations on Long Island, but with very different accounts of their trips. At one point, Lulu Springsteen found herself in a catfight with a local woman, for simply leaning on the family’s Jeep Cherokee while taking a rest. The householder came rushing from her front door, all rabid teeth and nails, flinging herself on the shocked Lulu. After much hair-pulling, scratching and wrestling about the sidewalk, they were separated and the Springsteens moved on swiftly. Later, Charlie took the fancy of a gang of teenagers, lounging on their corner. In the grand scheme of things their refusal to let the beautiful woman pass was fairly trivial, but it got Jonathan beaten and kicked for objecting (although he used his martial arts skills to fend the people off), it got David Springsteen punched and it got Lulu barged about as she tried to intervene. Finally, a vigilante group of older men ordered that the people be let by, and again the Springsteens hurried onwards.

  They finally reached their luxury complex, exhausted, cold and hungry. They found no security on the gate, so they walked on up into the woods. Lulu, not for the first time, linked ar
ms with David, expressing her need again to see that the children were safe. David assured her that they would be there, all well. They also hoped that the house had been unmolested and they could make nice meals and open a bottle of wine. By then they were used to the abnormal silence all around, but up in the trees there wasn’t even any wind to affect them - it was ghostly quiet. David wondered if the area had evacuated elsewhere, but he kept that from his wife, who was forging on to her children. They passed three neighbouring properties, without any sign of life. Perhaps their friends had not made it back from work yet. There were only a few cars on driveways, so most residents had left home before the event started. David was about to voice his concerns to his wife, when they saw a familiar face walking up from a cluster of houses that included their own. It was that black man, the new neighbour, whose name they could never remember, but he was friendly enough. The man hailed them.

  ‘Hello there!’ the man shouted.

  ‘Hello!’ replied Lulu. ‘Mr Stickford!’ Then aside to her husband, ‘That’s right, isn’t it, David? Stickford? How are you coping, Mr Stickford?’

  ‘Mrs Springsteen! I’m doing well, all things considered.’

  ‘Please tell me, have you seen my children?’

  ‘Yes, do not be concerned. They are in our little enclave.’

  David hurried forward to shake his neighbour’s hand. Lulu kissed the man. Introductions were made with Charlie and Jonathan, then they were walking quickly after Lulu.

  ‘And my sister?’ asked Lulu, ‘has she shown up?’

  Mr Stickford shook his head. ‘Sorry, no lady has arrived saying she’s your sister.’

  Lulu had to accept that there was something wrong with her sister, who would surely have gone there, if she could.

  All the houses were $2 million-plus, with double garages, cultured lawns, but there were four in close proximity to each other - Mr Stickford’s so-called enclave.

  ‘Pretty place,’ expressed Charlie to Jonathan, thinking this was where she might have been working and, right on cue, two small boys came squealing out of a house and into their mother’s arms. They were quickly followed by the Nicaraguan au-pair, Ana, who stood smiling with relief that her employers had made it home.

  ***

  Elaine D’Acampo still had her assistant, Kat, with her, as well as Danielle. A slight detour had been taken to Mr Murphy’s sister’s house, and they were all delighted to find his wife and daughter sheltering there. Back in the bosom of his family, Mr Murphy was a man completely brought back from the depths of despair. He had hugged Elaine with tears of joy streaming down his face. There they had spent a few hours resting and eating, before hitting the streets for the final leg. A journey that had been completely uneventful. The only stress had been the physical effort of walking such a distance when none of them were used to walking. Near to Elaine’s gated community, they stopped to talk with passing strangers, exchanging theories and hopes for the immediate future.

  The security post was unmanned. Elaine made a mental note to complain about that when things returned to normal. She led the girls up the road into the estate. She smiled, hearing the two young people behind her chatting away as always. Hopefully, this event would be explained and resolved before they had to think about it with any seriousness. ‘What do you want to eat?’ she called back.

  ‘Fried chicken and English muffins with butter, and coffee,’ replied a laughing Kat.

  ‘Cheese on toast,’ said Danielle, with feeling.

  ‘Cheese on toast?’ asked Elaine. ‘What kind of cheese? Wensleydale?’

  They all laughed.

  ‘I wish I could have a bath,’ said Kat. ‘I sure hope this thing is only temporary.’

  ‘We’ll boil lots of water for you,’ Elaine reassured her. ‘Nearly there. God, I hope the house is still standing.’

  They crested a curve in the tarmac and looked down on an outcrop of white properties.

  For Danielle’s benefit, Elaine pointed out which house was hers, and thanked her when she was complimented on such a fine looking home.

  ‘That’s what alimony gets you,’ joked Elaine. ‘Take notice, girls.’

  As they made their final approach, the front door of a neighbouring property opened and two people stepped outside.

  ‘Mr Ivanovic!’ hailed Elaine, waving. ‘I made it home. This is Kat and Danielle.’

  ‘Welcome home, Mrs D’Acampo. Young ladies. Have you had a dreadful time? Whatever is happening to the world?’

  Elaine continued to smile at her neighbour, Mr Ivanovic, despite the weapon slung over his shoulder, and also that his companion was similarly armed. At first she couldn’t place the other man’s face, but then she recognised him as the security guard.

  ‘The name’s Ziegler, ma’am,’ the man said.

  She could now see that he was still in his uniform. She nodded at him as politely as possible.

  ‘Your home is fine,’ said Ivanovic, ‘we’ve been safeguarding it. But come in with us, first. We have coffee brewing, and food ready.’

  Kat said, ‘Yay!’

  So they went into the neighbouring property, which was not Ivanovic’s.

  ‘The Millers’ house, Mr Ivanovic? Are they here?’

  ‘Oh, yes, they are out back. Go right through. Have you three ladies been travelling alone?’

  ‘We had a gentleman with us most of the way,’ answered Elaine.

  Kat snorted at the thought of the useless Mr Murphy. They walked through, finding Mr and Mrs Miller tending to a gas barbecue on the rear patio. Two other, separate neighbours, the elderly Mrs Ikin and the teenager, Jacob Jones, were sitting nearby. All four gravitated towards Elaine and there was a tumult of kisses and questions. How did they find the situation out there? Where was the Millers’ son? What of Jacob’s family? Was Mrs Ikin well? The old lady looked drained. They chatted away, Elaine introduced the girls, drinks were passed around, and food was promised soon. But Elaine sensed something wrong - something even outside what was obviously wrong. Ivanovic and Ziegler came through, with the former in a genial mood. They both sat down. Ziegler gestured to Jacob that his beer bottle was empty, so the younger man fetched a fresh one.

  ‘Not long now with the food, Mr Ivanovic,’ reported Mrs Miller.

  Ivanovic gave a deep, satisfied nod. ‘Let’s all relax again, why don’t we?’ Then he looked at Kat and Danielle, watched them all the way down to their seats. ‘Mrs D’Acampo, tell us what’s been happening to you, if you wouldn’t mind.’

  FIFTEEN

  Michael sat under a big wooden detached house, on the outskirts of New Haven. Several houses were on fire in the neighbourhood, but he had chosen not to sit under any of those. This property had room for him to hide under because, as it was on a slope, partly up on pillars, he had picked it so he could covertly survey the hive of activity down below. In the foreground, before large buildings and smoke from fires took over, there was a sports club - in his mind, Englishman Michael, insisted on calling it that, even though he knew it was a minor league baseball stadium. It may have been six or seven levels down from the Majors, he had no idea, but it looked impressive, with buildings and bleachers, and the wide expanse of grass which seemed in good condition. He could not make out where the diamond would be, however, as thousands of people were sitting and standing there, awaiting help from the military, who were there in force, with large green tents, and soldiers patrolling with the black spikes of their rifles protruding into the air.

  Michael was eating walnuts, taken from the kitchen of the house above; the only thing he could find as it had already been looted of food. He chewed away, and to stop his mind continually going back to the awful scene in the construction site, he thought about home. Not about how his family would be coping with this situation, but about before that. When things were normal, when his parents went to work and he and his brother went to school. About watching football matches and playing cricket with his friends in the back garden (with a tennis ball - they weren�
��t rich). All his girlfriends came to him, sitting there, all but the current one, and again he felt that was a defence mechanism to stop him fretting. Joanne looked under the house at him, in her school uniform. Priah came to be beside him, her pure Asian skin hard to make out in the gloom. He missed Priah. Then he actually turned his head to listen to Victoria berating him for breaking up with her. Yes, Vicky, I’m sorry. I always regret that. That was it, three old girlfriends, four now in total. There had been that one-night stand at the wild party in Walthamstow - Melissa may have been her name.

  Michael was quite comfortable where he was. It was dry and out of the wind. He actually loved walnuts. When he had finished his meal, he picked up the rifle he had brought away from the construction site. He had examined it many times, knew it was loaded, but didn’t think much of it - it was in a poor state, a bit like one in the video games he used to play which would explode when fired. He did not particularly want to join that group of refugees on the baseball diamond, but he thought he should approach the authorities. Since losing Molly and parting from the Doctor and her family, he had felt isolated, avoiding any figures he saw on the roads. He needed information, and some proper food, hopefully. So he climbed out from under there, put the rifle in his rucksack, tied a towel around the protruding part, which was not perfect, but would have to do. Hitching up the rucksack, he set off walking down the hill.

  In the event, Michael didn’t make it as far as the sports club, instead finding himself under the aim of several M16 rifles belonging to a US Army patrol. The soldiers approached him, keeping him covered, six tough-looking men, five white, one black. The black soldier was the one to question him. Michael answered honestly and was relieved that the soldier looked less ready to kill him. They talked for a few minutes, in which time Michael was advised twice not to try for New York. Finally it was agreed that Michael’s options were different to those of an American, and that he would be pushing on in search of his girlfriend. The soldier gave him a ration pack and bottled water, and they parted with kind regards.