by Russ Watts
As Bashar placed a hand on the edge of the upturned table he heard a whooshing noise behind his head. Roza was bringing a large meat cleaver down through the air and it narrowly avoided taking off his hand, embedding itself in the hard wooden table.
With a growl Bashar scrambled to his feet. Roza stood before him, her burning body stinking of charred flesh, her black skin foul and disgusting. Roza looked at Sam and then Bashar.
“You’re next,” she whispered in a husky voice.
Bashar hated the woman. Even in life she had failed to protect her employees and her fat useless body repulsed him. Full of anger and rage he pulled the meat cleaver from the table and thrust it at Roza, ramming it into the side of her head. The flames tickled his skin and singed the hair off his knuckles, and the cleaver stuck in Roza’s skull.
Shaking her head, Roza looked at Bashar. “She will die before you.” Roza raised her arm in the air and then opened her mouth wide. Her eyes flickered and then closed, and Bashar felt like he was being saluted. It was too surreal. He looked over her shoulder at the burning kitchen where the fog now encompassed most of the room. There were people in there. He could see shapes and shadows moving through the fog and one came sharply into view as they walked through the now open doorway into the front of the shop. Bashar saw a young boy, no more than three feet high. The boy’s head looked as if it had been ripped from his shoulders and then crudely thrust back on. It was bent at such an angle that the boy could not conceivably be alive, and yet he was walking through the coffee shop toward Bashar. Both of the boy’s eyes had been pulled out leaving black sockets devoid of life.
“Let’s move,” shouted Bashar as he backed away from Roza and the figures coming through the burning kitchen. He turned and found Lulu by the front door, a shopping bag clutched to her chest. Tony had Bob pinned back against the wall with a chair. The coffee shop smelt of burnt flesh and sulphur. Whatever Roza had done to blow up the kitchen she had made sure the resulting smoke was full of poisonous fumes. Even if they could somehow fight off their attackers, Bashar knew the shop was no longer a refuge. Something had taken hold of Roza, twisted her mind and forced her to do these things. He refused to believe she was part of some sort of terrorist conspiracy. There was something far worse, far darker at work here. She had lost an arm and had a meat cleaver stuck in her head, and she apparently felt no pain.
“Lulu, grab Tony’s bag.” Bashar rushed to grab Tony’s wrench and then ran to help him with Bob. The old man was struggling to extricate himself from the chair legs that Tony was holding him back with. Bob still had Sam’s blood on his chin and he licked his lips as he fought. The old man had lost his mind, like Roza, like Angie, and Bashar put an arm on Tony’s. “Let him go. Let him burn.”
Bashar whipped the wrench across Bob’s face, cracking his skull and seemingly knocking the old man out as his body slumped down the wall.
Tony dropped the chair and wiped the sweat from his brow. He coughed and spat out dirty brown saliva. The black smoke pouring into the room was making it hard to breathe. “Out there?”
Bashar pulled Tony toward the front door and looked back. The shop was fully ablaze now. Apart from the smoke it was hot too from the flames, and Bashar noticed several of the figures in the kitchen were alight. It didn’t seem to slow them down though, and more were pouring through the blasted doorway after the young boy. “You want to stay here?”
Lulu thrust Tony’s bag at Bashar and then pulled the door open, the fog instantly dripping into the room. “I’m out of here.”
Lulu stepped through the fog and even though she could only have taken a couple of steps, disappeared from view.
“Tony, we need to leave, now.” Bashar handed the wrench to Tony, and then nervously hurried him out of the café after Lulu. Bashar took one last look at the burning shop. Roza was clambering through the fallen chairs and tables toward him, her murderous intent all too obvious.
“Burn in hell,” said Bashar, and he stepped outside into the fog, into a dark world that he supposed might just be worse than the one he had just left.
CHAPTER 5
The temperature dropped in a second. The heat from the fire was forgotten as Bashar stepped into the fog. It was cold, and the very air seemed to cling to his skin as he walked forward. The fog was tangible, cloying, and clouded his vision in a way that no fog ever had before. It was like an ash cloud, thick and solid, and it was an effort to just walk through it. He kept expecting to walk into the back of Tony or a car. He stretched an arm out and could see no further than his wrist. Even by wiggling his fingers he couldn’t see his hand. The lack of visibility was disconcerting, particularly given that it was still morning when the sun should be beaming and presenting him with streets full of life. It was more like midnight. Even in London the streets were busy at midnight, full of revellers and late-night workers. This was like stepping into a different world, an alternate Earth where the fog had consumed all the living humans and replaced them with… Bashar didn’t want to think about what they had been replaced with, Sam’s words about zombies a distant memory already.
“Tony? You there?”
Bashar’s voice echoed around the still streets of London and for a moment he felt like he was the only man left alive in the whole world. Was this what the end of the world felt like? It wasn’t so much a feeling of death but of loneliness, of complete abandonment.
“Over here.”
Pleased to hear Tony respond, Bashar tried to follow the sound of his voice. He walked slowly, all too aware of what was behind him. Roza and Bob and the other burning figures were surely not far behind. Yet he couldn’t afford to go running blindly in this thick fog for fear of what he might run into.
“Tony? Keep talking. I can’t find you.” Bashar held Tony’s bag in his left hand and kept his right hand outstretched, feeling his way through the darkness. His shoulder ached from where the explosion had cut him but all he cared about was finding Tony and Lulu. He didn’t want to be alone in this impenetrable gloom. If he was ever going to see Nurtaj again he knew he was going to need help. Getting away from The Strand and the burning coffee shop was the first job; anything beyond that was too much to think about.
“Bashar, hurry, I can hear them coming. They’re close.”
There was fear in Tony’s voice and Bashar didn’t want to know who Tony was talking about. He might mean the people from the shop, or Roza and Bob, or he might mean others. All Bashar knew was that he wanted to be far away whenever they arrived. From the sound of Tony’s voice he was close. Bashar’s hand suddenly hit something icy cold and hard, and Bashar recoiled. He froze but nothing came out at him. Nothing jumped him and he slowly put out his hand again. His fingers brushed against the cold object and Bashar stepped forward to find he had his hand on a lamppost. There was blood smeared on it at eye level but otherwise it was nothing unusual. He glanced up hoping to see the light on, but he could see nothing above either. If the light was on then it was well hidden and obscured by the fog. He suspected it was off, like everything else. He couldn’t see any shops or vehicles, no traffic lights, no police cars, nothing at all that suggested anyone else was around. It was spookily quiet.
A hand suddenly wrapped itself around Bashar’s wrist and he jumped back, dropping Tony’s bag as he pulled away.
“Woah, hold on, it’s me,” said Tony.
Bashar watched as Tony reached down and picked up his bag.
“You okay?” asked Tony.
Bashar nodded and swallowed his shock. “Yeah, I just got a fright. I didn’t realise that you were so close.”
“It’s this bloody fog. It’s hard to get your bearings. Screws up your senses, right? I’m just pleased to be away from that place. Let it burn to the ground.”
Tony slung his bag over his shoulder and held the bloody wrench at his side.
“What about Lulu?” Bashar steadied his nerves. He kept waiting for something to grab him but for now he seemed to be fine. “Did she run off?”
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br /> “No, you think I’m stupid?” Lulu appeared behind Tony.
“She grabbed my hand as soon as we got out of there. Sorry we couldn’t stick around for you, mate,” said Tony apologetically. “I tried to, but I thought the best thing to do was to get well away from the bloody café.”
“Right.” Bashar looked at Lulu. Her features were softened by the gloom, but he knew she was still holding her guard up against him. Her brown eyes penetrated him and the look she gave him, as if she was interrogating him, made him feel guilty. She might still be harbouring a grudge against him for what happened to her friend Angie, or she might still be wary of him due to the fact that he wasn’t like her. The colour of his skin wasn’t something he chose to think about, even though others seemed to judge him by it. He didn’t really care if Lulu’s attitude was personal or just based on misunderstanding, as long as she didn’t get in his way or slow them down.
Lulu still held her shopping bag to her chest with one hand, and had the other hand on Tony’s belt. She had slipped her index finger through a belt loop, as if scared that by not being in direct contact with him she might lose him. Despite her outward bravado it was apparent that she was scared.
“Well I suggest we keep moving. I know it’s difficult in this fog, but if we stay here then that psycho Bob might find us, or something worse.” Bashar saw Lulu shiver. “I assume you haven’t seen anyone else out here?”
Tony shook his head. “No, but you can hear them. They’re shuffling around out there all right. I think Sam had a point about the zombies. That’s just what they sound like. Listen.”
Bashar held his breath as he tried to listen for what Tony was talking about. He had been so focussed on watching his step and finding Tony that he had not taken notice of the sounds. But as he listened now he realised there was something. Tony had said it sounded like shuffling and it was hard to disagree. It sounded like a thousand people scraping their shoes on the cold hard streets. There were voices too. They were faint, but definitely there. They weren’t talking though. Bashar was quite certain that the people he could hear were either crying or moaning. It was too muffled to be heard clearly. Whoever was making those sounds did not sound like they were going to be of any help. They sounded more like Bob, all guttural grunts and groans. There was something else, something underneath it all, almost like the whisper of a ghost. Bashar gave up on trying to understand it. Reality, that’s what Sam had said: focus on the here and now.
“Right, well unless you’ve got somewhere better to be, then I’m going to find my van and get the hell out of town. Lissie was in Carnaby Street, so that’s where I’m headed. You’re welcome to come with,” said Tony.
“You think you can find your van in this?” asked Lulu.
“Sure. I remember where I parked and I’ve no reason to think it would’ve moved. It’s right around the corner in Southampton Street. If we follow the edge of the pavement I reckon I can find it. Sure beats wandering around like a blind man.”
Bashar studied Lulu’s face but it was hard to get a read on what she was thinking. She was undoubtedly scared, they all were.
“Okay, well can we go now?” asked Lulu. She looked around but there was nothing to see. “I want to get out of here.”
Tony reached down into his bag, pulled out a hammer, and passed it to Bashar. “Just in case.”
Bashar nodded and took it. The rubber handle was soft to the touch, betraying how heavy and solid the hammer felt. Bashar hoped he wouldn’t need to use it. “I’m not a fighter, but thanks. Just in case.”
“Right, follow me. Lulu you’ve got a hold of me, so take Bashar’s hand. We can’t afford to get split up again. If we stick together we should be there in a minute.”
Lulu slowly held out her hand to Bashar. If looks could kill he knew he would be stone cold dead. He didn’t care what she thought of him, only that she and Tony were going to help him get away. It made sense for Lulu to be in the middle of them, so that Bashar and Tony who were armed could protect her. Yet Bashar felt nervous being at the back of the human train. He felt exposed, and as Tony began to walk the fog swallowed him up. Even Lulu was submerged in the dark gloom. Bashar held onto her, gripping her hand, able only to see the faint outline of her back and head. If anything came up on them he would have no time to react. He could practically feel fingers groping at him, clawing at his back and grabbing his ankles. The moaning sounds were growing louder too and yet Bashar was unable to pinpoint where they were coming from. They seemed to be all around him, yet the tall buildings surrounding them were just playing tricks, making the noises reverberate and bounce around, and disorientating them. Bashar noticed that Tony was indeed using the edge of the pavement as a guide, the lip of the curb a constant on their left side. After a few feet Bashar felt a warmth on his left side. There was a glowing orange in the fog and he knew they must be passing by the coffee shop. Either that or somewhere else was burning. How many other buildings had been compromised like that? He looked to his right as they kept walking, hoping he might spot Charing Cross Station, but there was nothing to see. There should be a McDonald’s right across the street from them but the golden arches were invisible. The chemists, the clothing store, the pub, the florists, hairdressers and endless row of stores that lined The Strand were all hidden, cloaked by the fog. It was as if they had been sucked into another world and Bashar felt his head spin. It was like walking through a void. If he didn’t have Lulu and Tony he feared he would’ve lost it. Maybe that was how they got to you. Like Roza and Bob who were weak, perhaps this fog was a ploy. Whatever was controlling it had a purpose and death seemed to follow it. As the orange glow and warmth faded Bashar tried to focus on the back of Lulu; on reality.
She was really just a typical girl, wearing skin tight jeans and a burgundy coloured jacket. The hood was fleece-lined, far too warm to be wearing on a sunny spring day, yet Bashar knew at her age that it was all about fashion and what looked good, rather than what was practical. That probably explained the spotted black and white scarf she wore. He wore a plain black suit and pale tie, and could only imagine how boring he looked to her. Yet now he wished he had something more comfortable on. Lulu’s hair was tied up in a bun, her hair wound so tightly that it looked uncomfortable. Noticing her brown hair made him think of Nurtaj. It might be a cliché, but he loved to smell her hair. It was dark, almost black, and yet smelt so sweet. Beginning to lose himself with thoughts of his wife, Bashar failed to notice when they stopped and he walked right into the back of Lulu.
“Hey, watch it,” said Lulu as she stepped away from him.
“Sorry.” Bashar removed his foot from off hers. “Why have we stopped? Are we there?”
“We’re at the junction of Southampton. We need to make a left. My van is just up here,” said Tony. He furtively looked around but the fog was still too thick to see through.
“So let’s go already,” said Lulu. “I want to get home.”
“All right, just be careful and keep hold of each other,” said Tony. “There’s something blocking the way, a truck of some kind, so we’re going to have to go around it. Just make sure you keep hold of me. I can probably get us around it.”
“Probably?” Bashar looked at Tony who held up the bloody wrench.
“Definitely,” said Tony firmly. “I ain’t gonna stop until I get to Lissie. She’ll be waiting for me. Stick close.”
They began to shuffle forward and Bashar took Lulu’s hand again. The hammer in his other hand felt heavier than before and the fog seemed to be closing in on then. Bashar felt his hands trembling as they began to circumnavigate the truck blocking the road. Bashar noticed it had crashed and the front of it was buried inside the entrance to a hotel. The sleek black side of the truck was scarred with scratches and dents, and the metal was cold as he brushed against it. Bashar heard a groaning sound, close, much closer than anything else, and whipped his head around. There was nothing there.
Following Lulu, he heard Tony say something about
stepping over it, and presumed they were about to go over a pedestrian crossing or something that had broken off the truck. Yet he felt Lulu’s hand squeeze his tighter and then his feet scuffed against something soft. Looking down he saw a body lying on the street. Bashar stepped over it gently, scared to touch it, scared that it might get up and attack him. Yet the body was in no position to do so. The body had been severed in two. The legs were covered in blood and between them and the upper half of the body lay the unfortunate person’s innards. Their guts had spilled out like spaghetti, yellow fat and undigested food bursting through the pink flesh to curdle with the large amount of blood. Bashar glanced at the torso briefly, noticing the woman’s pale hands on her chest clutching a tiny green handbag. The gold ring on the woman’s finger was splashed with blood. Bashar was grateful he didn’t have to see her face and stepped over the remains of her body. He was thankful that it wasn’t him. He had a plane to meet and no matter how selfish it sounded he would do anything to meet it. How many others had died in the streets? How many others on their way to work had been killed, murdered?
“Here. We’re here.”
Bashar heard Tony’s words and then felt Lulu’s fingers slip from his. They’d made it.
Lulu screamed and ran forward, leaving Bashar groping at thin air.
“Lulu?” Bashar took a step forward to follow her, to find Tony and the van, but found himself stranded and alone. Panic rose quickly and Bashar held up the hammer. He could hear footsteps all around him, clattering off the stone walls of the old buildings.
“Tony!” Bashar took four steps forward, hoping he would bump into the van, but there was nothing there. Broken glass crunched underfoot and he fought the urge to run. Running blind would lead him nowhere. They had to be close. Tony and Lulu couldn’t just disappear like that.