by Rhys Thomas
A cloud of smoke appeared near the entrance, tumbling across the tops of the shelves as one great, grey mass. Machinegun fire. Shouting.
Joseph got to his feet and grabbed Miriam. He pulled her towards the back of the store.
‘Wait here,’ he said.
She crouched down at the end of the far aisle.
Without thinking, Joseph ran back to his trolley and pulled it away. The fat woman was running towards the exit with the trolley full of bread. She was slow. Her husband trailed behind, walking. Then, like an optical illusion, he was taller. The visibility in the place was shrinking with every second as the smoke descended. Small lights appeared through the murk. There was more shouting. Voices ordering.
‘Get down on the floor, get down on the floor.’
The voices behind the masks were muffled and alien.
The obese woman’s husband broke into a run. At first Joseph thought he was just trying to catch up with his wife but then he noticed that the man was not moving naturally. He was running too fast for the skeleton that carried him. The motion of legs pumping was slow but he ate up the ground as if the floor was moving towards him. He leaped at his wife and lowered his head. The line of his neck impacted with her back and she was sent sprawling into the oncoming smoke and out of sight.
The lights he had seen in the smoke resolved into beams, like lighthouses at night. The forms of people moved behind the smog. They wore mining lights around their foreheads.
A deep, male voice shouted something indecipherable.
The trolley of bread, now deserted, was just twenty feet from him. The people with the lights on their heads were moving slowly and cautiously. He ran out from the protection of the aisle. He couldn’t see far in front of him. His eyes started to sting. The husband of the obese woman was nowhere to be seen. Joseph reached the trolley and pulled it back towards Miriam’s hiding place. With his head turned back to the direction in which he was running he did not see the set of hands take hold of the trolley at the far end. His arms jerked, a tearing pain shooting up them.
The large, aggressive bald man stood opposite him. Sweat had beaded on the top of his head. He yanked the trolley back towards him but Joseph refused to let go. He lost traction and stumbled. As his hips struck the metal frame he pushed his body forward as hard as he could, sending the front end into the bald man’s knees. The metal struck with a satisfying clunk and there was a grunt. Without thinking Joseph grabbed a tin can from a shelf. By now the smoke had pervaded the air. The bald man had hardly had a chance to recover his footing when Joseph pushed the can hard up into his face. His nose ruptured under the blow and Joseph felt the warmth of blood on his hands. He dropped the can.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered to the man, who was doubled over and holding his nose. ‘But you should have let go.’
Joseph pulled the trolley away from the aisle. Miriam was crouched where he left her. He left the bread there and went back for his own trolley.
‘Come on,’ he said.
‘What’s happening?’
‘I think they’re looting the place.’
He helped her to her feet. They were in the last aisle, hidden away in the top corner of the supermarket. The exit was a long way away. They reached the corner of the shelves and stopped. Cautiously, Joseph peered into the aisle and turned back to Miriam.
‘We’re going to have to run for it,’ he said.
There was no sign of the looters. Joseph knew that at the end of the opposite aisle were the checkout stalls but they were concealed in the smoke. The initial bursts of gunfire had relented. In their place, voices called to one another through the smoke, filtered by breathing apparatus, the words disconcertingly unfamiliar.
‘The little guy with the woman has got it. He’s violent,’ he said. ‘Keep an eye out.’
She looked up at him and said nothing.
‘Hide behind your trolley as you go,’ he said.
He looked out into the central aisle again. Two beams of light cut through the smoke. The light twisted and swirled in eddies as it crossed through the dense haze. He wondered if the looters would be able to see this far back. There was a flash of light in the ceiling and an electrical crack. One of the overhead lights, held up by two metal chains, fell to the ground. It landed with a heavy smash.
‘Now,’ said Joseph.
And he ran out into the aisle. He ducked down below his trolley. A voice called out from somewhere inside the smoke. He threw himself across the final yard of open space and into the safety of the far aisle.
Miriam was still waiting on the other side.
The voice called again. Joseph knew that he had been seen.
Miriam looked at him from across the aisle and shook her head. All he could think to do was to nod to her and keep beckoning her with his arm. There was no other option. She had to get across that open space.
‘Come on,’ he mouthed. ‘Run.’
He could see the fear in her face as she pushed her cart to the edge of the shelves. With quick movements she lowered her body down so that it was beneath the line of the top rail of her trolley. He looked at the contents – mostly bread – surely they wouldn’t stop bullets. Her eyes flashed in all directions. She was about to lose it.
‘Hey,’ he whispered. ‘We have to get out of here.’ She looked at him. ‘We have to get back to the house.’
She stared at the space of floor at Joseph’s feet. It looked like she was counting down in her head. Her forehead creased in concentration. And she ran.
The gunfire blew into the air. Joseph was jolted by the shock. It loosened the image of his father, the white face and the red lips. It was happening again.
‘Over here,’ he called, not thinking. Directly behind him boxes of cereal exploded open. He shut his eyes and tried to make his body small. Bullets spat at him from the smoke.
A hand grabbed the top of his arm and pulled him back. His legs were weak. As he fell he swung his body round the corner and to safety. The arm that had pulled him backwards released its grip. Miriam’s face was close to his. He could feel her breath on his mouth. He opened his eyes.
‘Come on,’ she said.
The two of them made their way down the length of the aisle at a run, their trolleys before them. Through the smoke they saw the fire exit behind the last checkout.
They reached the end of the aisle. The checkout was ten feet away across open ground. Sunlight fell in great shafts through the huge plate-glass windows. The explosion had shattered some of the panes into spider webs and the wind from outside swept through the windows that had been smashed, blowing the smoke into rolling billows. Joseph lowered himself on to his knees and brought his head down to the level of the floor, easing himself forward to get a view of the open area between the checkouts and the shelves. Through the smoke he saw one of the looters. His trousers were tucked into heavy army boots. He moved through the dust, slowly, a rifle raised, head cocked and looking along the barrel. He looked hardly human. The proboscis of the gas mask and the large, round eyes gave him an insect-like appearance. The light from his headlamp played along the smooth white tiles of the floor.
Joseph watched him for a few seconds. He was sure he was too far away to be seen. Suddenly, the looter stopped. Joseph held his breath. There was no noise.
‘Step out.’ The filtered voice was calm.
The figure in the smoke stood deathly still.
‘Step out,’ said the voice again.
Joseph kept his eyes on the looter. His heart was surprisingly still. There was no fear in him. And then, from the next aisle over, a dark figure moved between Joseph and the man in the gas mask. It was the large, bald man he had hit with the can. His hands were held aloft as he stepped silently into the open. The looter scuttled forward, rifle still raised.
The clear sonic crack of a single shot rang out and the man fell to the floor.
Miriam screamed.
The light from the looter’s helmet jerked up along the tiles and blind
ed Joseph. The rifle was freshly aimed. Joseph tried to pull himself back but his face had turned white hot and there was the shock of gunfire and a powerful jarring that paralysed his body.
There was a pain in his right cheek, instant and sharp. He blinked his eyes closed and open.
The light from the gunman’s lamp changed its trajectory suddenly and there was a grunting sound. I’m not dead, thought Joseph.
The torch was still focused on him but the angle of the beam was more oblique. The gunman had fallen. The light spasmed. In its moving stream Joseph saw a curl of smoke inches away from his face where the bullet had chipped the tiles.
He followed the light back to its source. The gunman was lying on the floor. The scrawny little man, the one who was ill, was on the looter’s back, crouched menacingly over him. He was so thin and gangly, and his movements were so swift and stochastic, that he looked like an animal. He was beating the back of the gunman’s head with a weapon. Joseph watched it in a daze of slow motion. The large man who had been shot was sitting up against one of the checkout stalls. A line of blood smeared the white tiles. His head lolled to one side and he was panting.
Miriam pulled Joseph back up.
‘We need to go.’
His senses returned as if being drawn through a jet engine. He stood up and they streaked across the empty space, carried by nothing more than reckless hope. The smoke was so thick that they could hardly see through it.
Joseph let go of his trolley and threw himself into the fire door. It yielded under his weight but only a few inches. He looked down. Thick metal chains held it closed.
‘Agh,’ he shouted, unable to control himself. ‘What the fuck?’
‘The other door.’
‘No way. They’ll be down there.’
They could see the car park on the other side of the glass. It was so close.
Joseph ran back into the store and towards the fallen gunman. He lay on the floor, unmoving. The infected man was gone. The lamp on the gunman’s head was pointed into the metal rafters of the ceiling, the two glass eyes of his gas mask were smashed and there was an expanding circle of blood beneath his head. There were several gashes at the top of his skull.
Joseph unhooked the rifle from around the man’s neck and ran back to Miriam. Her shoulders were hunched. She was looking along the archipelago of checkout islands.
Joseph followed her gaze. The infected man, his face and arms covered in blood, was pulling the large, bald man towards the plate-glass windows. The large man’s feet scrabbled in struggle. In the clearer light Joseph saw the weapon the infected man had used to kill the gunman. A hammer.
Things were happening so fast. He checked the gun. There was one bullet left. He could shoot the infected man or he could shoot out a plate of glass in the window and save Miriam and himself. He ran round the checkout island to her.
The large man had been hoisted to his knees. His eyes were half closed and blood trickled from his nostrils where Joseph had hit him with the can and there was a red circle in his gut where the gunman had shot him. His head had turned a deep pink. Above him, the scrawny man loomed with the hammer held in the air.
‘Shoot him.’
Her voice was quick and loud.
Footsteps. Running. More looters were coming.
Joseph raised the gun to the infected man. He thought of Crowder and paused. His racing mind slowed. He only had one bullet. It could not be wasted. He turned away from the two men and fired into the window. It struck the pane with a thud and a wisp of smoke. There was a fraction of delay and the glass shattered and fell like crystal rain.
‘No,’ he heard Miriam say.
The infected man smiled. There was nothing they could do.
‘Leave him alone,’ she screamed. The veins stood out on her neck. She took a step towards him. Joseph went to stop her.
The hammer moved downwards in an arc. Sharp end first. When it struck the top of the bald skull it was with such force that it broke the skin and embedded itself into the bone.
‘Run,’ Joseph said, under his breath.
The infected man levered the hammer to an angle and wrenched it clear of the skull. The large man let go of a low, thundering scream. Joseph’s nervous system convulsed. The hammer fell again into the head. Joseph couldn’t look away. He had to see it. The infected man dropped the body to the floor.
The looters came out through the smoke like creatures passing between dimensions.
Joseph fled. A single thought tripped over and over in his mind: this can’t be happening.
They still had their trolleys. Outside, they saw the source of the explosion that had rocked the supermarket. The whole of the front entrance was aflame. The steel girders of the atrium were buckled and black. Bodies lay on the floor, black smoke rising from them. The soldiers.
Saying nothing, they ran towards their car in a direct line. They didn’t care who saw them now. Joseph could feel the burn of exertion in his lungs. He thought he was going to throw up. He kept looking back. Nobody coming.
They reached the car. Miriam loaded both trolleys, including the loaves of bread, into the boot. Joseph looked around them to check for danger. Miriam’s face had greyed in the smoke and he could see her hands shaking as she struggled with the food.
‘Hurry up,’ he ordered.
She didn’t even look at him.
A man had appeared through the glass they had smashed and was running towards them. He held his hammer in his left hand, above his head like a tomahawk. Joseph climbed into the car quickly. With deliberate care he placed the key into the ignition, making sure not to fumble it. The engine roared to life. The boot slammed shut. He saw the shape of Miriam streak past in the rear-view mirror and she climbed into the seat next to him. Joseph hit the accelerator and sped away. There was a loud bang on the roof. Miriam screamed. The hammer bounced down the windscreen and on to the bonnet. Needles of shock tore up Joseph’s chest.
Great billowing towers of black smoke curled from the entrance of the supermarket. A group of people ran out, dressed in normal clothes, but blackened with soot. They had somehow escaped. For the first time, Joseph thought about stopping to help.
One of the looters stepped calmly out from behind one of the army trucks where he had been hiding. His gas mask was pulled up off his face on to his forehead. A large pack was strapped to his back and he was holding at his side what looked like a spear.
‘Oh no,’ said Joseph.
He felt an overwhelming urge to shout to the people.
The looter strode purposefully into the open and then stopped, raising the spear at his hip. The fire spewed out of it in an orange arc and the people went up like tinder sticks. They were engulfed in seconds. Even through the car windows, and above the sound of the engine, they could hear the screams.
The flaming bodies ran out into the car park, spinning, throwing their arms into the air, then falling to their knees and holding their heads up towards the sky in perverse worship, some of them clutching their faces, before falling to the ground and dying right there on the tarmac.
The pitch of the engine changed quickly up through the gears. Joseph was thankful for the steering wheel that gave him something to hold on to. It kept him steady.
‘Animals. Fucking animals.’
Miriam held her hands over her face.
They tore out of the car park and sped through the town towards the lanes that would take them home.
‘What was the point?’ said Miriam. ‘It was . . .’ She didn’t finish her thoughts.
He wanted to say I told you so, to show her once and for all that she had to listen to him.
‘We’ll never do anything like that,’ she said. He glanced across to her. She wasn’t talking to him. She was talking to herself. ‘No matter what, we’ll never do anything like that.’
He wondered if she included him in that ‘we’. She didn’t know that Crowder was still alive, and he hated the idea that she might put him in the same category as t
he men who had just butchered those innocent people. He wanted to tell her he wasn’t like them. He wanted her to know that for all his abrasiveness, for all his faults, he was still not like those people. He was not a killer. But he couldn’t tell her. It would make her think that he was something he wasn’t.
‘I’m going to take a detour,’ he said. ‘I want to check we’re not being followed.’
He turned the car into a particularly narrow lane. The road surface was rough with a long, unbroken stripe of grass growing up its centre. After a short distance they came to a crossroads. Joseph turned left. The road widened and the hedges became forest. On the right was a dirt track leading up between the trees. They travelled along it until the car was far enough in that they could no longer see the road. Joseph pushed open his door. The wood was silent. There was no sound of approaching cars. The leaves on the trees rustled and a bird chirped from somewhere nearby. Out here in the wilds you could have been forgiven for thinking the world was peaceful.
Miriam had been gazing straight ahead since they had entered the lanes. Joseph pointed into the woods. A natural footpath led between the trees.
‘If you go down there you come to a wooded valley. It’s a dried-up riverbed, my dad told me. There was a hut there. Made of stones with a corrugated-iron roof. God knows who built it—’
‘Why didn’t you shoot that man?’ she said suddenly. ‘The one who was ill. Why did you let him kill that other man?’
There was disgust on her face.
‘I only had one bullet.’
‘We could have smashed that window with something else.’
‘If I had shot that man we would both be dead now. You saw what they did to those people outside. Do you think they wouldn’t have done that to us?’
She opened her mouth and stuck out her jaw.
Joseph shook his head. ‘You are unbelievable.’
He pulled the door shut and they headed for home.
He parked in the garage. The engine ticked with heat.
‘Don’t tell them what happened,’ she said. ‘They don’t need to know.’