Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning

by Strange, J. S.

  Zach said nothing. He stayed where he was on the end of the bed, staring at the white floor. The kids in the other room were bickering over something.

  “We only got this far because you ran,” Zach said. “Almost endangering our lives as you did it.”

  It was true. They had been chased. Violet had secretly hoped that the kids would have been caught, so that they were truly left to themselves. She knew that if it were just her and Zach, they would have been out of London a long time ago. Violet couldn’t die here. This country had punished her. Her whole old life was here, and if she died then what was she worth? She had to get out of London, and she had to start her new life, and if that meant getting rid of the ones that slowed her down so be it. She had let go of Winter. It was only the kids that needed to go now.

  She had refused to hide out anywhere else, and only decided to stay here because she knew they would be caught if they didn’t. As they got closer to London, there were more and more of the dead. It seemed to be one last challenge from the man above.

  “I think we can get to the Thames in the next few days,” Violet said. “We’re not too far from it now.”

  She was repeating herself, but she had to.

  “That’s all fine and well, but you’re forgetting the number of zombies out there.” Zach stood up. “If we go out there and just expect to get to the Thames by following the streets, we’re going to be killed.”

  “Then we won’t follow the streets, will we?”

  “Where else are we supposed to go, Violet? Do you think we’re going to climb roofs? Do you think we’re just going to sneak past the dead, when they’re so starved for the living?”

  “Stop being so negative, Zach, or I’ll leave you here to rot.” Violet snapped.

  “I can’t even look at you,” Zach said, heading towards the door. “I have no idea who you are.”

  One of the kids began to cry from the other room.

  “Ugh, go and fuck off to that, you lucky sod.” Violet waved her hand in the direction of the kids. She turned her back and heard the door slam. When she turned around Zach was in front of her, kissing her, running his hands over her body. She kissed him back, running a hand through his hair while the other strayed to his waistband.

  He broke away from her and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him with a slightly forceful snap. Violet stared at where he had disappeared. She didn’t understand anything about him. She didn’t know why she was feeling these things for him. She just couldn’t get him out of her head. She wanted to know where he was, she wanted to know how he was feeling, she wanted to feel him next to her and hear him breathe. She had never been in love. She never allowed herself. If she thought she was falling in love with anyone she would hide away from them until they moved on. It was too much hurt and it was all too much drama.

  She enjoyed being free. She enjoyed not being tied down by someone, and she enjoyed not being full of emotions that messed with her head and made her think thoughts she shouldn’t be thinking.

  But she couldn’t escape it this time. Love had locked itself around her too tightly for her to break it and escape. She could only survive London with Zach.

  Violet stood by the window and stared out. The town was deadly quiet, but just out of eyesight she sensed the dead were walking. They had a habit of showing up when they thought they were safe. As Violet stood, listening to the kids being talked to by Zach, she thought about how she could talk to him about getting rid of them.

  They were getting ill. Their bodies were rising in temperature and they had been throwing up since their arrival. Something was not right with them. She couldn’t deal with ill children.

  She wondered why she disliked them. She shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t. It made her feel guilty. She couldn’t look at them without seeing her brothers. How was it that two children like this could survive and her brothers couldn’t? The kids looked like they had lived well enough lives, while her brothers hadn’t even lived. It just wasn’t fair.

  She heard Zach walk back in and felt him wrap his arms around her waist. He leant his chin on her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Violet whispered back.

  He kissed her on the cheek.

  “Zach,” She sighed.

  Zach let go. He stood back as Violet turned around.

  “Look, we can’t stay here forever…and, well, we’re going to be here awhile if those kids are ill, aren’t we?”

  “We’re not getting rid of them Violet,” Zach said, keeping his voice low. “They’re children. They’re relying on us to keep them alive.”

  “I can’t take that responsibility, Zach. I can’t make them better. I can’t give them a home when we get to Paris. I’m not their mother.”

  “I’m not their father, but we have to be their carers. They’re alone now.”

  “Zach, we need to get rid of them.”

  “Listen to what you’re saying! You’re going crazy. You seriously think its okay to leave the kids behind so they die?”

  “I didn’t say we’d leave them to die, did I?” Violet snapped. She had thought that was the simplest way, but she thought fast and came up with new ideas. “We give them to someone else. We give them to those women we see.”

  “They’re not dogs. We can’t just hand them over.”

  “Their parents did.”

  “Their parents were dead. They had no one else.”

  “Why did Winter have to fucking save them? Why does she have to do the right thing?”

  “Because she isn’t you.”

  Violet turned to glare at him. He seemed to regret what he had said but stood his ground.

  “All I mean is, Winter has kept a cool head about her, except for what she thinks of you. She would never just leave the kids to die. It’s stupid. It’s unthinkable.”

  “Well I’ve thought of it,” Violet said. “I’m not taking them to the Thames with me, Zach. I’m leaving without them.”

  “I’m not going to leave them.”

  “Then you can stay here. You can stay here and find Winter. I really don’t care anymore, Zach.”

  Zach sighed with defeat. “I don’t want to argue with you anymore.”

  Violet just shook her head. She moved away from him to the other window and kept an eye on him with a look that told him not to approach.

  “I don’t want to argue with you, either, Zach, but those kids have got to go.”

  And when she thought he wasn’t going to leave the room, she left. She strode back down the steps and locked herself away in the drawing room, trying to ignore the cold that nipped at her skin.

  She sat on the leather sofas with a heavy book in her hands. She flipped to a page in the middle of the book; a chapter labelled ‘All My Forgiving’, and stared at the page.

  He had said she was going crazy. She wasn’t. Crazy had been the people locked up in the leisure centre, locked up for so long they had started to forget what was real and what wasn’t. She simply knew laws meant nothing, and deaths now went unaccounted for. If two children were to disappear then she would never be blamed, would she?

  She had always been ruthless. She had had to be. Living on the street and then bringing up a family had toughened her. She had also had to deal with many a man who wanted more than just sex. A few of them had perished under suspicious circumstances. What were two children, really?

  Was she really considering this? This was how people started turning against each other. They started thinking of ways to get rid of each other, and that was exactly what she was doing. It would all be so easy. But then, of course, Zach knew what she wanted to do. If the kids did disappear, then Zach would risk telling people. She couldn’t get rid of Zach. But she would have to. If he risked selling her out, jeopardising her chances of a new life, he would have to go.

  It was that simple.

  She was a free agent. She could go it alone. She didn’t want to love Z
ach, and what better way to snuff out the flame of love than at the beginning? If she allowed him to love her, then she would only fall deeper in love, and then she would be trapped.

  Oh, what was she thinking? Focus on surviving London. That was all she had to do.

  She dropped the book to the floor and heard it echo with a dull thud. She spread herself across the leather sofa, trying not to shiver. She stared at the ceiling, which was so high up it made her feel uncomfortable. There were odd markings swiped throughout the paint. She followed them with her eyes. They were all leading to the middle of the room, where a chandelier covered in dust was placed.

  This place was oddly tacky. It seemed very outdated and Violet thought whoever had lived here before had clearly designed it thinking it looked good. So much small details had been put into odd things.

  The wallpaper on the walls was that of flowers, red roses to be precise. But they were faded red and the corners had begun to peel. One patch of wall was missing wallpaper. A small, rectangular tapestry going around the whole room displayed birdcages and rabbits. Violet noticed there were burn marks in this, too.

  She remembered the bonfire out in the garden, and thought whoever lived here before loved their fire. If they could see London now they would cry, ‘London’s burning!’ And then they would probably hold a whacky celebration.

  She closed her eyes and saw Winter stood on the car, firing bullets until all the zombies were dead. Thinking about it now, she had done that so they could all escape together. But Violet made plans and she stuck to them. If she wanted to escape without Winter she was going to do it.

  And if she wanted to dispose of the kids, she would do it.

  She opened her eyes. The room was as quiet and as untouched as ever, but she could have sworn a second ago it had been full with the ghosts of past inhabitants. The silence had been disturbed somehow.

  She stood up and went to the bookcase, opened the old antique doors and rifled through the shelves until she came across a notebook. She scanned the room for a pen and found one sat on the windowsill, spiralled and uncomfortable to hold.

  She sat back down on the leather sofa, listening to it squelch and groan underneath her. She started to write on the thick paper in ink that seemed to run and change her writing to that of someone else’s. She began planning different scenarios on how to leave the kids behind. She only wrote two for their deaths, the rest of which she tried to keep as nice as possible.

  What was nice about leaving children behind in a city of the dead? Nothing, of course. But it had to be done.

  Then she wrote something that made her stop.

  Zach.

  How was she to throw Zach off the scent of her murders? She didn’t want him to know she had killed the kids. She could tell him she wanted to save them, that she was stupid and wrong and that he was right. She was simply becoming a little crazy but who wasn’t? He’d believe that. She’d say this to him while pleasuring him. He’d be thinking with nothing else but a sexual desire. He’d trust her.

  She was secretly glad she had come up with this plan. She couldn’t kill Zach. That was the last resort. Without even trying to deny it she admitted to herself she was falling in love with him. She couldn’t let that go.

  Suddenly the door handle began to turn, and Violet jumped as if she had been stung. The door was locked, and the person on the other side knocked.

  “Violet, are you in there?”

  She quickly scrunched the papers up and placed the pen back on the windowsill. She hid the papers in the bookcase, behind a set of heavy, leather bound books.

  “Go away,” She called, as she fussed with the clasp on the bookcase door.

  “Violet, let me in, quick!”

  Once it was locked, and the papers were hidden from view, Violet went to the door and unlocked it, using the key that had been left behind. As she pulled the door open Zach looked at her.

  “There’s a government helicopter outside. We need to flag it down.”

  Violet’s heart flipped with hope. It was like a godsend. Maybe it was a sign telling her not to carry out her wicked plans. After all, she was set on escaping her old life, wasn’t she?

  They both bounded up the stairs and back into the white room. The kids stood by the bed, looking pale and anxious.

  Violet ran to one window while Zach hurried to the other. Violet pulled up the window and leant her head out into the street. There, flying above the rooftops, was a government helicopter. Its logo was so clear, illuminated by the rising sun, it made Violet’s emotions soar.

  She waved her arms. “Over here! We need help! Over here!”

  “Hey! Over there! Help us!”

  But their shouts not only alerted the government helicopter. It had alerted a group of the dead, who unfortunately had been running down the street to see the helicopter at the same time. Seconds later more appeared, and they were all running to one place: 15, Mouscallous Street.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Winter was strolling around the memorial garden with Laura when Connor arrived once more, carrying heaps of firewood and enjoying the cheering greetings he received. They could finally start up their breakfast: sausages with brown sauce.

  Winter and Laura headed back to the campfire, joining Connor who smiled at Winter happily. Once at the burning fire, Winter sat down and watched Connor add the wood, before Gerry and Oliver got to work on cooking the sausages.

  Helena pulled out a radio from one of the bags and began dialling the knobs. Through a crackled reception a voice began to speak. Winter was amazed.

  “How have you managed to get reception? I thought everything was gone.”

  “It’s a radio station set up in Paris.” Helena replied, straining to hear what the man was saying. “They’ve managed to broadcast around Europe.”

  Helena stopped fiddling with the radio when she managed to get a loud enough sound. Nobody spoke as the radio presenter poured out information.

  “Paris has welcomed yet another set of survivors on a government boat, this time from Poland. The thirty people have all been moved accordingly and are reportedly settling in well.”

  “Moved?” Winter asked. “What does he mean?”

  “I think there are camps set up.” Gerry shrugged.

  “Shop keepers are urging buyers to only buy what they really need. Right now, supplies are running low, and the government are finding new ways to import what we need.”

  Listening to the radio reporter speak, a man with a slightly French accent, made her want to be in Paris. Even though the topics were serious and slightly heavy, it boosted her morale. There were people alive in Paris, waiting for the last survivors to walk on their country’s soil.

  Then, what he said next, made Winter panic.

  “Lockdown of Paris has begun. Only two weeks remain before it shuts to those who have not been lucky enough to evacuate in time. As more and more countries become zombie territory, government workers are finding it increasingly difficult to get to any remaining survivors.”

  Winter looked around at everyone else. Their expressions were tense. Their hopes of escape seemed to finally be rolling away from them.

  “Survivors are urged to get in touch with government workers, or get to evacuation points immediately. You have until the end of June to evacuate your countries and get in to Paris. Anyone arriving at midnight on the first of July will be sent away.”

  “They can’t do that!” Laura shook her head.

  “Paris has set up safety barriers. Every entrance is guarded. These need to be sealed once and for all. Please, if you are a survivor, get to safety.”

  A jingle played and then a song. Winter thought it in bad taste.

  “It’s just stupid that they’re locking off Paris,” Winter muttered. “There are probably a couple hundred thousand stuck in their countries still. The government should be offering more help!”

  “We’ve been saying this from the beginning,” Gerry said.

  “It’s going t
o be pretty tight for us if we don’t move in the next couple of days,” Helena said.

  “We won’t get there.” Oliver shrugged. “Just give up now.”

  William glared at Oliver. “Don’t be so pessimistic, mate.”

  Oliver looked at William with the same look he had given Winter. One that clearly judged him and told him so.

  “Well, we have two weeks to get to the river Thames, and we’re just sitting here. The whole country is swarming. You can’t walk five minutes without seeing those wretched bastards. We’re goners, and we’ve been goners for awhile, but none of you will admit it.”

  It all happened so quickly. Gerry had swept from where he was sitting to in front of Oliver, who had stood up to face Gerry. Oliver was taller, but Gerry had more going for him when it came to intimidation.

  “Don’t you fucking dare bring this down, Olly, cos I’m tellin’ you now, we’re getting out of here.”

  The boys stared at each other, their faces inches apart, before Oliver looked away.

  Gerry stood back, rolling his shoulders as he did so, before sitting down a seat or two away from Winter.

  Nobody said anything else about leaving London for Paris. Helena kept the radio on, but Winter noticed she turned it down in the hopes that some words were indistinguishable.

  When their breakfast was done, they ate with the odd remark about how good the food was. They thanked both Gerry and Oliver who had made them, but the confrontation from before was still in the air.

  Once they finished, Gerry left the campsite for a walk and Oliver disappeared inside his tent. Winter had learnt that Oliver had his own tent, refusing to share with Gerry, William or Connor.

  As the sun shone down on the park, Winter wished she was wearing a little less. Helena and Laura were in gypsy skirts, while the boys had shorts on.

  “Winter, aren’t you roasting?” Laura asked, her eyes hidden by Gucci sunglasses. She was looking at Winter in a jumper and tight skinny jeans. She spared a look at her bare feet.