Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning

by Strange, J. S.

  “Yes, I am.” Winter sighed. She was sitting in the little shade the garden had.

  “Why didn’t you say so? I have clothes in the tent,” Helena said. She was also wearing designer sunglasses, which they must have stolen from the shopping centre they had got everything else from.

  Winter took this as an invitation to go into the tent when she wanted. She stood up, walking slowly away from the girls, and when neither of them objected she sped up.

  Once inside the tent, which was cool and damp, she stripped down to her underwear, making sure the tent entrance was zipped up to prevent anyone looking at her. She turned to Helena’s bag and began to look for clothes, thinking about how they should be going soon.

  She couldn’t help think that Oliver had a point with what he had said. They were all just lounging in the summer sunshine, instead of coming up with ways to escape.

  As she pulled out a promising pair of denim shorts, Winter heard something fall from the pocket. She looked around her before her eyes fell on a locket, lying on Helena’s sleeping bag.

  Checking the door was still zipped shut she picked up the locket and tried opening it. It took some time but when it opened there was a photo of Helena with her parents. Her mother looked young and pretty, while her father was dressed in sports gear. Crumpled up was a note.

  Winter thought this was going too far, but before she could stop herself she was unfolding the paper.

  ‘Helena, you’ve made us so proud this past year. We know you’re going to do so well once you have finished your university course. We’re sorry we couldn’t afford to send you on your travels, but in the New Year we’ll try out best to help your funding, which you are doing so well. Lots of love, missing you, mum and dad.’

  Winter sighed. She crumpled the paper back and shut the locket back up, feeling as though she was being rude and intrusive. She placed the locket back in the bag and pulled out a top that was slightly too big for her, but airy, which was what she needed. She pulled on the denim shorts and the top and messed up her hair, leaving the tent and thinking about how worried Helena must be not knowing where her parents were.

  Winter thought she would make sure to tell Helena that she was missing her parents too. They could bond over that.

  As Winter walked back to her chair, she thought about all of the new people she was staying with. All of them had lost someone. They had all been on their own until they found each other, hadn’t they? This was their family now.

  And Winter’s family had been Violet and Zach.

  “Better?” Helena smiled.

  “Yes, much better.” Winter grinned, feeling a light breeze tickle her skin.

  “When are we going shooting then, boys?” Gerry asked, drinking a second can of beer.

  William and Connor grinned at him. William was lying on the grass, absorbing the sun, while Connor was sat at the pool’s edge, glancing at Winter every now and then.

  “Shooting?” Winter asked.

  “They go somewhere in the woods and just shoot at empty beer bottles.” Laura said. “Boys, who understands them?”

  “I go sometimes, too.” Helena grinned, nudging Laura playfully.

  “Winter, do you shoot?”

  Winter laughed to herself as she thought of an innuendo, but decided to answer truthfully.

  “I had to so I could survive half of the stuff I did.”

  Gerry smiled at her.

  “Why don’t you come wiv us?”

  “Yeah, Winter, let’s see your shooting skills!”

  Winter shrugged.

  “Alright, but you’ve got to know I can shoot better than most boys. I’ve been told.”

  They laughed. Winter absorbed it like she absorbed the sun. She liked it when she had told a successful joke.

  “I don’t mean to pester, but tonight can we work out a way to get from here to the Thames?”

  Everyone looked around them, none of them eager to agree to this. Winter waited, looking at each person in turn.

  “Yes, we can plan that tonight,” Gerry said.

  “Okay,” Winter said, feeling as though she had ruined the mood. “Good.”

  They were left with that awkward silence again, and many people went back to sunbathing. Gerry stared intently at his beer can while Connor stood up, running a hand over his sweating body, and made his way to Winter.

  “Come with me. I know a place where we can sit and just admire the park in all of its glory.”

  “Is it in this part of the park?”

  “We won’t even be leaving the walls.” Connor grinned.

  She took his hand, trying to keep her eyes away from his body, and walked with him to one of the gates. He jumped up to the wall above him and pulled himself up. Winter did the same on the other side. They sat on either side of the gate, higher than the rest of the wall, and from here Winter could see the whole park.

  It was beautiful. With the sun shining, it looked like a perfect summer’s walk.

  “Look,” Connor whispered, pointing down to part of the park.

  She turned to see a group of zombies running across the pathway. They were awhile away from them, but it unnerved her to see them. She knew they were safe where they were, guarded by locked gates and tall walls, but the rest of the park was dotted with the dead.

  “Where do you think they’re going? Do you think they’re heading towards the Thames, too?”

  “I don’t think they think like that.” Connor shrugged. “What I have noticed, however, is that they seem to be dying.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “I know they’re rotting anyway. But we’ve all noticed that some look fresher than others.”

  Winter remembered her granddad, how she could see the bones of his ribs. He was already dead, and he had been for a few years. Even though he attacked her, he had been easier to take down than the other zombies she had encountered.

  “I think they’ll soon die out of their own accord,” Connor said.

  “Then why can’t we stay here?” Winter sighed.

  Connor smirked. “I know. Simply ride out the worst of it. We’d soon lose essentials. We’ve already lost electricity and TV and the likes of that. We’re lucky to have what we have. If we hadn’t gone to that shopping centre I think you wouldn’t have been so lucky in finding us.”

  Winter let that sink in. If Gerry and Helena hadn’t saved her in those woods, then she would have been killed by her granddad. He would have finally defeated her. She had almost given up, right there and then.

  “Love birds, you coming or what?” William called.

  Winter turned around to see everyone gathered by the tents, holding different sized guns. Laura was sporting a particularly bulky gun, and Winter wondered how such a small girl could keep hold of it.

  Winter jumped down from the wall and joined the others. She picked up her gun, which she had left in the tent she was sharing with the girls.

  “It’s not really that long of a walk.” Gerry assured her.

  Winter had not trusted him, but they had soon arrived to a clearing in the woods that stood just five minutes away from where they had set up camp. The area looked undisturbed, except for old smashed bottles and burnt out beer cans that had been left behind by their party before.

  Oliver set up the empty bottles and cans against a wall of unstable breezeblocks. He had been polite to Gerry on the way up but Winter could see through it to know all was not forgiven.

  Helena took the first shot firing a bullet and only just missing a bottle of WKD. The boys taunted her jokingly but when William missed a shot Helena made sure everyone laughed. Winter noticed that even Oliver had a strange, twisted smile on his face that looked like it pained him.

  They must have spent two hours stood in those woods, listening to birds flying overhead and water running nearby into a viciously turning river. Winter remarked that nature had been left untouched in some ways. In fact, the survival for birds had increased. Gerry had told her they had watched bird
s pecking at the dead even when they were walking from one place to the other. It seemed birds enjoyed the taste of rotting flesh.

  Winter felt slightly uneasy stood here. The trees around them were spaced, so there was enough room to see anything or anyone approaching. This would give them enough time to escape, if they needed to. Yet Winter also knew how close she was to the scene where her dead and gone granddad lay. She almost expected to see him again.

  But after her encounter with him in the woods, weak and decaying, Winter thought things had changed. He had failed to hurt her like he had done before. He had appeared weak and slow, something he wasn’t when he was alive. Her previous memories had been of the man who got off abusing his granddaughter. Now, a new memory fresh in her mind was a dead, decaying man that wasn’t strong enough to infect her.

  “Winter, are you alright?” Laura asked.

  Winter looked up. All eyes were on her. Connor was putting something into his pocket, watching her silently.

  “I’m fine.”

  And for a brief second Winter believed that. With those words, her trapped, fourteen year old soul left her. That weighed grief she had lived with all those years began to whither and die. Now she knew he was well and truly dead, she could move on with her life. She could leave it all behind.

  “It’s getting dark. We should head back.”

  Winter looked up. Had the day really gone that fast? Winter knew the consequences of not being back at their camp by nightfall. It was a big risk, coming this far.

  As they all began to exit the clearing in the woods, Connor came up by the side of Winter and placed a hand at the bottom of her back.

  “Come with me,” he whispered.

  Winter looked at him. He was looking at her oddly, as if something was just hiding away from her. He seemed somewhat troubled.

  Winter allowed Connor to escort her away from the group. She spotted Oliver watching them, but under his gaze she felt more confident. If anything were to happen, Oliver would know whom Winter had been with. Yet she felt like they would be safe. If Connor were with her, she would always be safe.

  “How are you, are you alright?” Connor said, asking two questions at once.

  “I’m fine.” Winter shrugged. “I don’t think anyone can be happy in this situation, really, can they?”

  Connor shook his head. “There’s too much going on. You don’t know who to trust or what to believe.”

  Winter bit her lip and nodded. Her thoughts drifted back to Violet. Was she still alive?

  “I saw you looking a little bit…distant back then.”

  “Yes, yes I was thinking about something.”

  “Your granddad?”

  Winter looked at him. He wasn’t judging her. He looked a little embarrassed that he asked. But why should he be? Everyone had heard the story. It had taken up the year of 2009 so much; Winter had gotten sick of seeing her own face plastered everywhere.

  “I saw him in those woods, and I just felt so scared.” Winter broke down. She felt tears begin to fall and so she sat down on the mossy ground, unable to carry on walking. Connor stood above her looking slightly awkward. His hand strayed to his pocket. “He was there, stood right in front of me. I couldn’t believe it. I killed him. I killed him. I killed someone. Then I watched him get buried. I saw the shame on my parent’s faces. I watched them deal with the outfall. I heard what they said about their murdering, disappointing daughter. And for three years I had to deal with the guilt, the fear, the scars. He was never really dead. He was always there, weighing me down, ruining everything for me. I could never forget it. Nobody would let me forget it.”

  Winter shook her head. The sound of a walkie-talkie being pressed sounded. She looked up and saw Connor stood there watching her, a look of sorrow on his face.

  “What was that?”

  “A bird or something.” Connor shrugged.

  Winter accepted it. She shook her head once more.

  “And then, you know, he was there. And he was staring at me. I didn’t think the zombies recognised anyone once they were dead. Why else would they attack someone they had known for years? But he recognised me, Connor. He recognised me.”

  Connor moved towards her, his hand in his pocket, and sat down next to Winter.

  “But he wasn’t the man I was afraid of. I had seen scarier zombies than him already. He was just one of them. I had killed zombies before. I had killed him before. If I had killed him, well, I could kill him again, couldn’t I?”

  Winter looked at Connor for confirmation. He nodded quickly.

  “He looked weak. He had barely any flesh on him. He was dying. Can they die, Connor? Can the zombies even die?”

  “Why did you feel guilty, Winter?” Connor asked quietly. “I don’t mean to pry, or make you live those things again. But I remember reading about that story in the papers. I think it was the only time you got the press on your side, even if it was in a twisted way.”

  “All of their reports were tinged with hatred towards me.” Winter sighed. She wiped the tears away from her face. “Even when all of that happened, the truth began to seep out, and my parents had to take legal action to hush things up. That only made it worse. Then as soon as that year was over, it was back to writing shit reports about me and making out that I was like that because of what happened. I could never forget it.”

  “So why did you feel guilty?” Connor asked again.

  “I killed him.” Winter shrugged. “I took someone’s life for the first time. I let him poison and drug my grandmother and I hated her because I thought she let it happen. I can never forgive myself for costing those two their lives. I can never forgive myself for being so weak.”

  “You were fourteen, Winter. You were just a girl.”

  “But I killed someone. I disappointed my parents.”

  Winter rested her head on her knees. She stared at a tree in front of her through watery eyes. The group had disappeared and Winter didn’t care if they were waiting for them or not. Right now, she liked being with Connor.

  “I’ve done things I regret.” Connor spoke. “I’ve done things that would come back to haunt me…eventually.”

  He removed his hand from his pocket and again Winter heard that sound. She looked up and saw a bird flying overhead. She forgot about it.

  “Like what?” Winter asked.

  Connor sighed. He stopped and looked away towards the sound of the running water.

  “You can tell me, Connor. What you’ve done, I’ve probably done. I’m not going to judge you.”

  “No, believe me, I’ve done something worse.”

  He left it there. Nobody said anything for a while. Then Connor messed up his hair and looked at her.

  “I’ve sent messages with images of myself naked,” Connor said.

  Winter looked at him. She almost smiled, but he looked worried and hurt.

  “So have I.” She shrugged. Who hasn’t these days?

  “I’ve committed crimes like thievery, burglary, violence…” Connor shook his head. “I’m not proud of it but when I was younger, I fucking mugged this poor woman, and a few weeks later she fucking died, Winter. They tried making it out that she was so distraught by the mugging incident it petrified her to death, and I almost fucking got arrested for it, until they did an autopsy and found out she had cancer. She hadn’t told anyone because she had no friends and no family.”

  Winter could see him fighting back the tears. He was shaking his head and kicking at the ground. He looked so hurt Winter wanted to reach out for him, but she knew he would break down. If he broke down, so would she.

  “And, the things is, I’ve done something even worse than that.”

  Winter looked at him. She thought she already knew part of what he was going to say, but she waited. She knew it would be difficult for him to talk about.

  “I had a sister.”

  Winter noted the past tense. She waited more, but he didn’t reply. He seemed to be waiting for her.

  “Wh
at happened to her?”

  “I killed her.” Connor answered. It was so blunt and simple, Winter didn’t register it. She just looked at him, feeling nothing. Connor turned to her and had a strange smile on his face. “I killed her, and I got away with it, and I will always hate myself for that.”

  The smile faded and he seemed to be remembering something.

  “How did it happen?” Winter asked tentatively.

  “It was winter. We went out. I was ten. She was eight. We were staying on this estate. We had been there visiting when the snowstorm took place. Every young child was playing out on the grounds, so our parents let us go. I took my sister to the lake they had on the grounds. It was empty, and we had been warned not to go there. But I asked, I forced my sister to go on the ice. We had this ball. I kicked it, on purpose, to the middle of the ice. I knew it was impossible to get again. But I made her go and get it. A little, eight-year-old child. And she went. She went with her naive childhood ambition. And when she was close to the ball, I thought I would mess things up for her. I threw a stone, a big stone, right into the middle of the ice, just near to where she was. The ice cracked, and where she was stood cracked, and down she went.”

  Connor began to cry. It was a pained cry; one that seemed strangled and lost. It was full of grief, full of guilt, it made Winter feel uncomfortable.

  “And I watched her go under. I watched her try and get back up. She couldn’t swim, but somehow she still managed to call my name, and then there was silence, and she went under, and I just sat on the ground, watching the place where the ice had cracked, ignoring the biting cold, until suddenly it was dark and my parents found me, and they realised what had happened.”

  He was shivering. Despite the air being warm, he seemed to be feeling that cold from when he was ten.

  “And what happened?” Winter asked.

  Connor looked at her.

  “They believed me when I said she had gotten away from me. They believed me when I said I only just came over the hill when she fell through the ice. I let them believe that, and even when we spoke of her years later, even when the police questioned us, I never told.”

  “And you never told?”

  Connor shook his head.