Contents
Prologue 1
Birthday Party - Day 1 - Rich 2
Before the Storm - Day 2 - Blake 3
The Text - Day 3 - Blake 4
First Contact - Day 3 - Sarah 5
Drive - Day 3 - Jessica 6
The Army - Day 4 - Blake 7
The Outbreak Begins - Day 5 - Jess 8
A Sons Warning - Day 5 - Sarah 9
My Daughter - Day 5 - Rich 10
Patrol - Day 6 - Blake 11
Escaping the Horde - Day 7 - Rich 12
The Motorway - Day 8 - Blake 13
Refuge - Day 9 - Rich 14
The Apocalypse - Day 9 - Blake 15
Maddness - Day 10 - Jess 16
Fight - Day 10 - Rich 17
The Field Hospital - Day 11 - Blake 18
Burial - Day 12 - Jess 19
Lt. Richards - Day 13 - Blake 20
Kidnapped - Day 13 - Jess 21
Friendly Fire - Day 14 - Blake 22
Find Lily - Day 15 - Jess 23
Jess’s Friends - Day 16 - Blake 24
The Night Before - Day 17 - Jess 25
Africa - Day 18 - Hussain 26
Hussain’s Farewell - Day 18 - Blake 27
Gang War - Day 18 - Jess 28
Revenge - Day 19 - Peter 29
Escape - Day 19 - Jess 30
Our Last War - Day 19 - Blake 31
World Down - Day 20 - Blake 32
Epilogue 33
Prologue
October 1st, 2018. The day of Lily’s birth. That sweet little angel I cradled almost eight years ago. Tomorrow she will be eight. I’d been preparing her birthday party for the last month. Getting the food, ribbons, birthday banners, and of course sending the letters for all of her school friends. But most importantly, getting the birthday cake! The right cake was essential for Lily. I just loved to see her smile. Nothing came close to putting a smile on my face like remembering the time when I held her in my hands for the first time. My sweet little angel.
“Honey, where's the keys?” I whispered loudly while shuffling around the countless boxes of shoes in the porch.
“On the counter!” A familiar voice rang down from upstairs. It was the voice of my wife, Sarah Lively.
“Where!” I shouted back up, as they were not where they usually were. Sarah came down the stairs holding her handbag and dressed in a great big furry black coat.
“Back counter moron,” she said with tenacity.
I turned, opened the small door, collected the keys from the low shelf with a frown.
“Is Lily asleep?” I asked looking up at her.
“Yes, Jess is with her,” my wife said creaking down the stairs and looking at herself in the mirror.
“Good,” I mumbled, pulling a thick green coat around my shoulders.
“Blake should be home soon,” Sarah then told me. Ah, Blake, my only son, the oldest of the pack, who never texts his dad, only ever his mother. I always thought sons should be closer to their dads than to their moms.
“We'll see,” I said putting my coat on and turning the handle ever so slightly.
“Alright.” I unlocked the door, entering the world to the chill of the night and the assault of the crisp cool air on my neck. I wrapped a light scarf around my neck, and made off into the dark street lit dimly by yellow street light, my wife following loosely behind. Opening the car, I gazed up to the dotted stars, they were ever present, but waning due to nearby lights. Closing the car door, I glanced to the front window whilst buckling my belt. Placing the key in the engine, I saw the faint hue of light from Lily’s bedside table. She was awake. Probably with Jess, her older sister, reading a children's book before bed, as she normally would on quiet nights like this.
“Come on, start the car,” Sarah called from the back seat. We were going shopping you see, last minute essentials for Lily’s birthday party. I thought I’d have everything ready by now. Turns out I’d forgotten about candles for the cake. How stupid of me. Sarah had been kind enough to remind me many times of how stupid I am, she was like that though. Very bossy, probably because she wasn't very bossy where she worked. In retail.
“Ok, we need candles what else?” She asked.
“Cat food?” I suggested as we dove into traffic. She didn't reply, just simply looked to her reflection in the car window, probably because she was upset with me. Last night we were watching one of her favourite soaps on telly, the next minute I look I find a black screen. The problem? The internet bill hadn't been paid.
“Yeah. Right.” I put on the radio, the newscaster had a stern female voice, reading the news in a solemn, reflective style.
“Government officials have expressed extreme concern to the Rubarno Collective over the arctic melting of several miles of permafrost, thereby releasing unsafe amounts of mercury once thought trapped in the frozen waste into the sea and atmosphere. It is thought that the mercury stored in the arctic is three times over the amount of natural mercury in our atmosphere. The permafrost was already at risk over the effects of global warming, with the companies’ actions, the process of melting has been escalated, putting the lives of billions at risk of mercury poisoning.”
I was silently outraged at the report, these damn companies and their shady business. They contributed to the rot of the world.
“And now to the developing story in London. We can go live to our senior editor and reporter Clive Smith who is there at the scene right now. Clive, what are police saying? Is this connected to the incidents in Cyprus and India? Do we have any clarity on the situation?” The radio reporter said.
“Well Katy, police are keeping a stiff upper lip I’m afraid to tell you. The entire area here surrounding the station sight has been cordoned off, everything...”
I turned the radio down and looked in the mirror above my head, and found Sarah sighing a depressed sigh.
“Honey, what about if we went to Majorca in the summer,” I hummed happily to raise her spirits. She gave me a piercing glare from the back seat, her head twisting like a robot.
“With what money Richard? We’ve got nothing!” She said coldly.
“It wasn't my fault I got laid off,” I told her, and truly it wasn't, they just built these new robotic arms for sealing and signing packages and I had become obsolete as a worker. That was the truth, but she didn't care. I looked back to the road and turned the radio back on.
“Now this is what many people from around the station are telling us. I'm looking over now to the ambulances, the police, we've tried asking them for comment, they won’t answer. This man fled the scene, left a number of people…”
I pulled the plug on the radio as we parked up next to the supermarket.
“Don't be long,” I told her looking to the large empty car park.
“I won't,” she said getting out of our orange car. “I won't. You know me.”
I wanted to laugh because when she shops, she takes forever. I grunted under my breath and looked across the empty car park, void of cars. The light of the supermarket sign was the largest light across the mists of the empty squares of spaces. I turned on the radio again.
“Just now getting reports that the man has been shot dead by officers outside of the plaza hotel.” “So, the officers have killed the suspected killer,” I said sarcastically under my breath. Good, send that bastard straight down to hell. I thought.
Out of the shadows that swirled in the mists of the empty car park, I thought I saw a man. It was nothing, surely? But alas, I knew who was out there. There was a reason I had forgotten the birthday candles, and a reason I had suggested last minute coming here, at almost ten in the evening.
As the digital clock on m
y car radio reached 22:00, I opened my car driver car door and felt the cold of the October winds on my back. The month of Halloween it truly was.
Walking down between two cars and into an underway passage to the city centre, I found him, in his black hoodie and trainers. He wanted money; he wanted the money I owed him.
“Rich,” he said as he leaned on the tunnel sign. The lights at the end of the tunnel flickering in odd patterns.
“Jaime,” I said walking up to him, the thug who I’d smuggled precious packages from the factory, the man I’d aided in illegal theft. He wanted my money, my life, my everything, and I just couldn't walk away from him. He was at the head of a gang, threatening to kill my family unless he got his so-called stock. I couldn't just walk away, and admit to the police my guilt. I’d go to prison and my family would be at risk. I had to give him money, every month. £200 it was, and he’d leave me alone, but I only had £64 in my wallet. I’d even cut down on my television tax, meaning I can't even watch Westenders anymore!
“You have my money then?” He asked in an ominous tone.
“I, I don't have all of it,” I said with a nervous laugh.
“You what?” He spoke, before stepping closer. He revealed a hidden knife from under his coat.
“You fucking what?”
At this point I really feared for my life.
“I…I,” stumbling over my words I felt my stomach churn.
“Well, what you got then Rich?” He then said, grasping the knife.
“I will get your money, you just have to give me time,” I said.
“Give you time, how much time do you need?” Said Jaime, leering over me. I wasn't a tall bloke. I was 5,8 and built well, bald and in my late fifties. He was a young man, athletic. He could easily outrun me, or beat me in a struggle.
“Another month,” I said as I weighed up my fight.
“How about I come over there, and slit your daughters throat, how about that? Rich, how about I poke holes in her fucking neck? Let my fucking brothers rip her up? How about that!”
“Please don't,” I said, before changing my tone. “Don't talk about my family like that.”
“Why the fuck shouldn’t I get one of my boys to do it? Hm? Why!?” He pulled the knife from his waist. I couldn't hold my anger anymore. No one threatens her like that.
“No, you don't, bastard!” I screamed, hooking him in the nose with my right fist before he had a chance to react. The impact knocked him back. He collapsed to the cold wet floor. I kicked and stepped on his wrist as blood dripped and poured from his nose. The power was in my hands and something deep within me pushed me over the edge. Having the power to do as I pleased, as he had with me. But my judgement was final.
I picked up his knife. “Fuck you, and fuck your gang,” I announced, stabbing his chest twice. “Fuck you!” I exclaimed, all the frustration, pain and anguish I had felt dealing with this thug for the last few months released all at once. But in the back of my mind, I knew that my life was over. Looking at his body twitch and writhe gave me so much relief, but I knew, I knew I would never see my sweet Lily grow up. All my life had led to this sordid moment, it was cruel.
I would have never stolen packages from the warehouse if I had known here was where I’d end up. I cried, as I sat over the body. The rain outside the tunnel ever increasing in volume. The lights flickering faster and faster, then subsiding with my racing heartbeat.
A ping sounded from within Jaime’s coat pocket. It was his gang, messaging him about the money.
“Got the package?” The message said, from someone called Goby, with a laughing face emoji. I typed a response.
“I need help, some scouse with a red hat just jumped me, I need help.” It was such a poor cover up, but as soon as I sent it my hands shivered and froze.
An old woman was watching me from the end of the tunnel. She slowly turned and walked away. I took the knife and cleaned it in the rain and with my coat, and looked once again to the end of the tunnel, now empty. My hands, drenched in blood were cleaned by the rainwater falling down. I wiped the phone clear and put it back where I found it, taking care to not disturb the scene any more than I had. Then I made my way back, around the car park to the shadows, to approach from a different direction from the CCTV cameras of the car park.
“Breaking off with today's sports news, with Roger Howl,” the radio echoed as I entered the car in shock.
“Yes, good evening everyone. It's been an emotional day in tennis today as Louis Frachbeckon claimed the smash slam title after an enthralling match up against Dennis Urwood. The Brit won the first set in quick style, but the man from France hit back strongly. Winning the next two sets, and going on to become the first Frenchman to win the grand competition.”
I panted and looked to the outside world, the rain pouring upon my windows.
“I just killed someone,” I said to myself.
“In football, the blue lions have beaten the red devils for the first time in their club’s history, as they ran out 2-1 winners in today's titular super football league match. That win puts them up to second in the table, still fourteen points behind the reds who lead on 76 points. I've been Roger Howl. That was your sports news.” I switched it off. Enough of that. Here was Sarah. She had four bags in two hands, as was always her way.
“Got everything,” she said, placing the giant shipping order on the back seat.
“Though you were only going for a few items,” I spoke shook in bewilderment, not moving my head an inch
“Everything’s got now,” she said again, while stuffing it alongside her in the back.
“You better have,” I said again in bewilderment.
“Why are you wet?” She asked as she noticed my drenched attire.
“I went for a walk,” I answered quickly.
“My card?” I then looked back, oblivious to the crime I had just committed.
“Here,” she handed it to me.
“Right let's go,” and then I started the car, leaving the car park, and the dead body I had just stabbed, without a second glance.
Birthday Party - Day 1 - Rich
It was the day of Lilys Birthday. I was in my armchair, rocking my head back and forth slightly, like a madman. Waiting for the call, for the police to smash down our front door.
6:00 the landline phone read to my left. I waited all day, every second was peaceful, waiting for the them to come. And when guests arrived in the afternoon, I sprang out of my chair and swung open the door for them. I wasn't going to allow the death of some criminal thug to ruin my daughter’s birthday. Fuck that, and fuck his shit little gang.
“Welcome!” I said, upon seeing Abigail Grenne Meadows and her parents. She was Lily’s best friend from down the road.
“Roger, Cassey,” I greeted her parents.
“Richard, hi, I just thought we’d bring Abigail over early. I need to just run and do some errands,” said her mother.
“No problem, Sarah’s just fixing the cake, head on in Abigail.”
“Abigail!” Lily cried out as she ran down the stairs in her pyjamas. She laughed her laugh that made me smile every time.
“Abigails here for the party,” I told her.
“Can we go upstairs to my room,” Lily asked.
“Of course.”
I turned back in the doorway and found Roger in the porch; his glasses fixed around his head in a chequered blue shirt.
“May I come in?” He asked.
“Yeah, yeah sure,” I said, turning back and walking into the living room.
“So, did you see the game last night?”
“Nah,” I answered awkwardly. He sat to a stool in our living room.
“Clarets won, nine nil. I took Harry there. We’ve got a box. My cousin booked it out.”
“You've got a box?” I asked, grinding my teeth in secret. He had a box at a football stadium that he takes his son to, and here I was struggling to pay the bills for my family to live.
“Yeah, right oppos
ite the youth coach and directors’ box. It's great for his chances of getting into the team don't you think,” he said as I faked a smile and threw him the remote.
“Fabulous. Put something on.” I nodded to the blank TV and looked at the clock on the wall. 12:00 it read.
I walked to the kitchen. “How’s the party food coming on?” I asked my wife Sarah, who was up to her eyeballs in party poppers and mini sausage rolls for the feast.
“I’m just laying it all out, keep by the door in case anyone comes,” she told me. I glanced to the cake; it was a pink fairy cake with blue icing on the top.
“Where’s Blake?” I asked. “He’s out with his friends again,” she responded.
The doorbell rang as the thumping of feet came down the stairs and out running into the garden. This would be a long afternoon.
An hour later and seven of her friends had arrived, three dads and four mommies in the living room chatting about their pretty little lives and their perfect little children. You might not have guessed it by now, but I’m quite cynical, depressive and overall sad to be around. To me right now, sitting in my armchair, the only thing that sounded sane was the television that spoke of death and more death on the news. And as they sat there, debating which pure dog breed was better, I waited for my judgement.
“Julie darling. There's something happening hold on,” said Gerald Peterson, Mandy’s father, one of Lily’s friends from nursery. He looked to the television with concern. It was the same news programme I was watching, even I didn't fully comprehend its title over the inane dribble coming out of the other parents’ mouths. Being from a poor working-class family, I still wasn't used to all this middle-class talk.
Then the sound of my wife drew me away. “Rich it's time for the cake,” she called. “Ok,” I rose out of my armchair as they all gawked at the TV. A moment later I was in the kitchen, outside in the garden where the girls all played and the grass was so green. I gathered them all in and began the singing of Happy Birthday.
“Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Lily, Happy birthday to you! Woohoo! Blow out the candles!” Sarah and I said with glee. Julie walked in with her camera recording. She was a journalist for the Evening Star so of course she would film it.
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