by Russ Watts
“I know. We’re nearly there.” Tony yanked the wheel hard to the left and the van lurched unsteadily into Carnaby Street.
“Back the truck up, we’re not going down there are we?” asked Neale. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
Carnaby Street was full of the dead. Normally the unique designer stores would be packed with shoppers, but many of the frontages had been smashed, and as the van appeared they all turned to look at it. Hundreds of dead eyes fixated on the van and a chorus of moans greeted it.
“Wait,” said Lulu, “we’re not seriously going to—”
“I’d hold onto something if I were you,” said Bashar. He felt Lulu grip his leg and she braced her knees against the dashboard.
“Shit,” said Tony, and he charged the van forward.
The zombies began to hit the van instantly, pounding on the sides as if they had driven into a hurricane. Many fell under the wheels and Tony pushed the van harder, several times skidding across the road as he struggled to keep the van going in a straight line.
A few zombies tried to grab the door handles or the open windows, and Bashar was constantly battling with them, using his hammer to strike at any who got too close.
“Where the Hell are we going?” asked Neale as a screwdriver flew past his ear. “I feel sick.”
A head bounced off the windshield and Tony pulled the van around a black taxi as the decapitated head cracked the glass. One of the wipers was wrenched off as a zombie pulled at it and thick blood smeared the glass. Another zombie was hurled up over the van as Tony sped them on down the narrow street. Shops flashed by shrouded in fog and hands grabbed at the van as it whizzed past.
“Almost there.” Tony’s eyes were staring dead ahead. The zombies were thinning out but he knew they would be following them, and more would find them thanks to the noise they were making. He mowed down four more zombies who thought taking on his van was a good idea, before he suddenly realised that he had no idea how he was going to find Lissie. She was supposed to be spending some time in Libertas, finding a new dress for her cousin’s wedding next month. The store had four different floors she could be hiding on. How was he going to find her? What if she wasn’t even in the department store anymore and had moved on? Tony bit his tongue. She would be there. She would wait for him. She had to be there. They had managed thirty one years of marriage and it wasn’t about to end like this, not today. He had become almost immune to the zombies. So many had fallen under his van that he didn’t even bother to avoid them anymore. He just wanted to get to Lissie. He didn’t care what that monster was, or why it was here, he just wanted his wife back. He had been forced to kill this morning, the woman in the coffee shop still weighing on his mind. Yet he knew somehow that if he got his wife back, then everything would be okay. There was something about having her close to him, even after all these years that he found reassuring. He needed her.
“Tony, stop!” shouted Bashar.
The road came to a swift end and two police cars were blocking their way. The fog hid them well and Tony stopped the van with only a foot to spare. Either side of the police cars were retractable bollards which were still raised; there was no way around in the van. They were finally caught. The road was a dead end.
“Do we go back?” Lulu asked Tony. “Can we get past the ones you didn’t run over? I think there might be a couple left.”
Tony opened his door and reached down to pick up a large wrench. “No, we’re on foot from here. Lissie’s just around the corner.” Tony turned off the engine, jumped out of his seat and looked around before slamming the door shut. He reached through the open window, took the keys from the ignition and shoved them into a pocket. “You might want to come with me. There’s about fifty hungry zombies headed our way.”
“Did he say we’re on foot?” asked Neale.
Bashar and Lulu quickly got out of the van, Bashar grabbing his hammer and Lulu picking up a yellow-handled screwdriver from the footwell.
“That’s what I thought,” said Neale, as he slid back the side door. “Perfect. Just perfect.”
Stepping out of the van felt odd, almost surreal. The events that had led them to this point had been seen from the relative comfort of the van. It had protected them from the dead, and as Bashar softly closed the door behind him he felt like he was letting go of the last barrier between him and the zombies. There was the matter of the giant beast, whatever it was, hiding in the fog, plus the strange woman who seemed able to walk freely through the dead without any problem.
Neale held aloft a fibreglass club-hammer. “Guess this will have to do,” he said as he slid the door shut. “I take it this is just a brief stop? We’ll be back on the road soon, right? We’re not stopping long, I assume?”
Bashar looked at Neale. His earlier confidence was gone. The man’s bravura had been replaced with a healthy fear. Bashar was pleased. To survive the open streets of London they were going to need their wits about them.
“As long as it takes, I guess,” said Bashar.
Tony signalled for them to join him. The fog was dispersing and leaving patches of open air that allowed them much better visibility than earlier in the morning. The sun was still a distant memory, hidden behind the grey blanket above them, but at least they could now see each other and the framework of the buildings close by.
“Where are we going, Tony?” hissed Lulu, staying close to his side.
There was a thunderous booming noise that rattled the windows and buildings around them. It echoed around Carnaby Street and even the zombies paused momentarily in wonder. Everyone looked up at the sky, yet all they saw was the wall of fog above their heads.
“Is there a storm?” asked Lulu.
“No,” said Bashar as he cautiously examined the stores around them. There was no evidence as to what had caused the noise. It was like a sonic boom, as if something had exploded close by or a jet plane had taken off. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Then what was it?”
“Do we need to know?” asked Neale. “Let’s just get out of here. Seriously, if we can just get to my place it’ll be safe there. You can all stay if you want.”
A man wearing a smart suit rounded the corner. His brown tie was loose and his white shirt untucked beneath a black blazer. The man’s head was shaved and his face thin, with a small bony nose beneath two small eyes. He staggered out of Beak Street and approached Tony.
“You okay, mate?” asked Neale apprehensively.
The man looked at Neale and raised his arms. A gurgle came from his lips and a thin bubble of blood burst over his jaw. Though there was no obvious sign of injury, it appeared as though the man were like the others. Yet Neale wasn’t sure if the man just needed some help.
“This is no time for jokes, you know.” Neale stepped back, away from the advancing figure. “You in there anywhere?”
Another faint gurgle came from the man and as he approached them Bashar raised his hammer. “He’s gone,” said Bashar. The look in the man’s eyes was a look he had seen too often.
Without saying a word Tony stealthily moved around the back of the man and struck the base of his skull with the large wrench. The suited man staggered forward but said nothing. There was no cry of pain, no complaint, no cry for help.
“He’s gone for sure,” said Tony. He brought the wrench down on the man’s skull again and as the man fell to his knees Tony struck him again. The man’s cheekbone shattered and fragments of bone spilled out through the split in his skin. One more strike and the man stayed down. “Let’s go,” said Tony, as he wiped the dead man’s blood on his leg. “There are more where he came from. Don’t hesitate. Don’t blink. If they come for you, you have to be quick. I’m going to get Lissie. You might want to stick close.”
“I’m thinking we need to rethink your strategy, mate, you know?” Neale looked at the dead man at Tony’s feet. Further away a horde of zombies were pouring down the road toward them. “How about we call it a day and—”
; “You do what you like. I got you this far. I’m going to get my wife. You can come with me or wait here. It’s no skin off my nose.” Tony took a couple of steps toward the two police cars. They appeared to have been positioned there deliberately, though there was no sign of any policemen. There was little reassuring about them. The lack of any noise, apart from the dead, worried Tony. What if there was nobody alive around here. The dead seemed to have Carnaby Street covered.
“Lissie is in Libertas. I know it.” Tony began to move toward the department store. Its huge façade lay just over the road. Much of it was obscured by the fog, but it was still there. No flames came from the windows, and if the doors were still closed then perhaps Lissie would be safe inside. The exterior of the building was intact and Tony took comfort in the fact that if it was quiet then maybe the zombies hadn’t found a way in.
Another booming noise rang out above them, this time much closer. It shook the ground they were standing on and several more windows around them shattered. Bashar felt Lulu grab his arm but said nothing. Tony was right. They had to stick together. For now, at least, until they could find somewhere to really hunker down in safety. He had to stick with these people until he could get to Nurtaj. The thought that she was so far away gave him little comfort. He had to assume that this incident was isolated to London. But what if it spread? How long would Nurtaj be safe in Manchester?
A small fragment of charred metal came spinning through the fog as it descended, until it landed at Neale’s feet with a sharp crack. He jumped back from the smouldering piece of metal and stared at it. “What the fuck is that?”
Bashar looked up and saw another piece, this one much larger, the size of an office desk, burning merrily. It fell a few feet away near the entrance to the department store. The metal seemed to be flat and thin, and there was something painted on it in navy blue. Through the flames Bashar thought he could make out the letter R, but quite what it was he wasn’t sure. It almost looked like a door. There was a piece of metal attached to one side of it about two feet in length and what might have been hinges on one side. He guessed that one of the upper floors of a nearby building must have exploded. Perhaps it was part of an air-conditioning unit or storage locker that had been blown out of a window.
Bashar stared up into the sky, concerned that if they didn’t get off the street they could be hit by more debris. It was then that the fog began to part. At first he saw a sliver of turquoise blue appear, and then more. The fog rapidly parted and revealed not just the source of the flying debris, but something more, something much worse that made Bashar’s bladder go weak.
“I think we found what made that booming sound,” said Bashar. As he stared up into the sky, Bashar contemplated getting down on his knees to pray. He thought he had seen all there was to see in the last few hours: dead people walking and people on fire still talking. Would praying even do any good? What he saw was more terrifying than anything he had experienced so far.
“Good God,” whispered Neale.
Lulu stared up at the sky. “I don’t think he’s here anymore,” she whispered, as she clutched Bashar’s arm.
Tony backed up against the police car and followed their eyes to the heavens. “No, this can’t be,” he muttered. “This can’t be happening.”
High above them was an aeroplane, its hull breaking up and burning, trailing a plume of black smoke behind it. Around the huge body of the plane were much smaller parts that had already broken off and begun to fall to Earth. The fog revealed the destruction like a horrible tableaux, piece by piece revealing more of what was happening. The nose and cockpit had broken away and left the main cabin to continue flying before gravity grasped it and began pulling it down to the ground. Hundreds of pieces of burning debris were raining down over central London, and Bashar knew amongst that debris were humans; people who perhaps thought they were escaping this terror, who were on their way out of the city, only to be struck by death in the air.
As the fog revealed more, Bashar knew that this was no accident or terrorist atrocity. The plane’s destruction was linked to what was happening beneath it. At first he saw just a glimpse of it. As before, he saw a black scaly talon reach above the fog and then more of the beast’s form. It seemed to grow organically, almost literally out of the fog. The black beast had done this. It had brought down the plane. Bashar watched as the beast grew to its full height, stretching and reaching up through the fog, high above the city rooftops, above the fog until it reached so far Bashar thought it must be touching the sky. Its body was pure black, a blackness so dark that it could only have been borne in Hell. Two muscly arms hung from its sides and ended in claws as long as two bendy buses. Its legs were shrouded in smoke and fog, but Bashar could see the tip of a tail waving above the rooftops. The tail was long and black too, covered in shiny scales like a snake. There was a large spiked ball on the end of it that waved around and resembled something a dinosaur might have. Bashar looked further up the beast’s body until he reached its head. It eyes were more horrible than even its disgusting body would suggest, two huge orbs, deep red in the centre, below which were two wide horns. There was a smaller horn in the centre of its forehead, much like a rhinoceros that had had its horn sawn down by poachers. But its eyes held Bashar’s attention. They moved carefully, scanning the sky as it picked its target. This was the monster that he had caught sight of earlier, the thing that hid in the fog. Was it somehow responsible for the zombies, or were they responsible for it? How had something so huge stayed hidden for so long? The monster resembled something from the bible, something primeval that might have existed before men, before dinosaurs, before the Earth even had a name. Bashar recoiled in fear at its awe.
The creature opened its slavering jaws and emitted a roar that Bashar thought was impossible. It was deep and guttural, and made the very air spin. The beast bellowed as it slowly raised up a hand. It struck the back of the plane and smashed off the right wing, sending the plane spinning even faster into a downward spiral. The tail sheared off and flew into the beast’s midsection. Bashar watched the beast swat it away and its hollow red eyes followed the plane down. The monster moved slowly, as if its huge frame was too heavy. It raised one leg and planted it firmly back down on the ground as it let out another roar. The ground shook and a fireball erupted from where it was standing. Masonry and concrete were obliterated and Bashar looked at the pathetic hammer in his hand. It was hopeless against such a thing. He could ward off the dead, but what chance was there against a creature like that? The more he looked at it, the more Bashar thought it was distinctly familiar. The eyes and shape of the face were borderline human, and there appeared to be a short, scruffy beard hanging from its pointed chin.
“Okay, time to go,” said Tony hurriedly. “This shit just got real.” He darted around the police cars to the department store. As he ran more debris began to fall and it felt like he was dodging bullets, the random objects slamming into the ground with alarming ferocity. Shards of glass and fragments of concrete shattered around him as he ran.
“I’m outta here,” shouted Lulu. She let go of Bashar and ran after Tony.
“Come on, Neale,” said Bashar. “The store should give us some protection for now.” Bashar ran after Lulu and Tony, not really knowing what they were going to do against a creature that had just brought down a plane. What kind of sanctuary could the store offer against such power? If the beast wanted to it could crush them with one blow. He knew it as he ran but didn’t care. The plane was coming down almost on top of them and certainly the open street was no place to be. He could hear the zombies in Carnaby Street and felt tiny chunks of metal flying past his head as he ran. A piece of burning flesh landed at his feet, glancing off his shoulder as he ran for the cover of the store.
“Hurry!”
Bashar heard Tony’s voice up ahead, but the smouldering remains of burning metal hid him for the moment. Bashar ran for his life, his footsteps hard on the cold ground. He wished the fog was back. He wished he
hadn’t looked up and seen any of it. He wished he was back home in Syria with Nurtaj, living in a war zone. Death surrounded him there too, but at least there was a logic to it, however unforgiveable and unnatural. London had descended into chaos. The chance of seeing Nurtaj again was decreasing with every minute that passed. He ran toward the store and hoped he might live long enough to see her one last time.
“Where’s Neale?” asked Tony, as Bashar reached him and Lulu.
A dead body slammed into the ground and exploded barely twenty feet away. It was like a blood bag bursting and the velocity forced blood from the body in every direction.
“Right behind me,” shouted Bashar, as he ducked. The blood sprayed over all of them as another large piece of metal crashed through a plate glass window close by. The roar of the descending plane was growing louder and Bashar knew it was close. The beast’s deafening roar mingled with the plane to become one. Bashar felt Tony put an arm around him and draw him closer to the edge of the building. There was a canvas shelter above each window and Bashar suddenly saw his own reflection. His face was splattered with blood and his suit was covered in dust and debris. There were numerous cuts and tears in the fabric and his blue tie was stained with the blood of the dead. His face looked so tired that he hardly recognised himself.
“We’ve got to get inside,” said Lulu, as a zombie approached them. Lulu turned around and began hammering on the door. It was large and solid, and held fast. The narrow glass offered a glimpse of the store beyond, dark and uninviting.
Tony began to hammer on the door with Lulu as more zombies approached them. The plane continued hurtling down with a horrendous rumble accompanied by a shrill ear-splitting whine as the engines sucked in flames.
And through the fog Bashar saw another glimpse of the black beast headed their way.
CHAPTER 11
“Get that door open!” Bashar realised Neale wasn’t with them. He was standing beside one of the police cars and pulling open the driver’s door.