“Keep walking.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He continued following, still looking upwards, a streetlight coming into view, then had an awful thought. “Zombie moths!”

  Joe looked back. “Uh?”

  He was sweating buckets, but his jacket wasn’t coming off. The secret pocket wasn’t the only secret it contained within its lining.

  Joe walked back, helping him along. “You’re concussed.”

  “But the insects might be dangerous…”

  “I think we’re safe on that front.”

  They arrived at a crossing. “Which way?” he said to Mathew.

  The younger man strained to see into the darkness. “Er… Where are we? Wait… I have to check the…” He reached for his pocket and then forgot why he was doing it. “What… was I doing?”

  “We need to get you inside.” Joe nodded to the tracks which crossed the road up ahead. “That’s Acton station up ahead.”

  “Ah! Yes! I used to come in from there. Not far. About fifteen minute walk. We go… right, after the tracks.”

  “Good.”

  They carried on walking. Mathew could tell this army guy wasn’t happy and he couldn’t blame him. His kid and mother-in-law were missing and his wife was waiting back at home. If they hadn’t got in the trouble they got in with that gang, Mathew was convinced Joe would have left him and gone his own way. But he hadn’t, he was still helping him get to Greg’s. Whoever this Joe was, he kept his word. More than could be said for many others. But Mathew still didn’t trust him a hundred percent. Not enough to reveal the real reason to go to Greg’s. He just hoped Joe would understand.

  They walked along a nondescript street of two and three-story Victorian homes. The streetlights illuminated their front facades and large windows with only darkness behind the glass. Halfway along the road an ambulance sat, its front touching a parked car, its rear doors open. A gurney sat on the floor, tipped on its side, with no sign of paramedics or patients.

  They moved across a junction. The road to their right was bathed in darkness apart from one streetlight, someway off that flickered on and off. Within the momentary flash of light was a figure, standing, not moving.

  Mathew waved at the road ahead and they kept on going, moving around fallen trash cans and a car that had crashed into the front wall of a garden.

  “We’re almost there,” he said, then pointed to the right, to another junction. On the corner is Greg’s shop, but his real place is the back of it. The lockup.

  Nearing the end of the street, they passed a double garage and stood near a plain looking white door within a wall, which was at the back of a three story building, the front of which was facing the main street.

  Mathew looked up at a security camera perched on the top of the wall. “It’s me!” he said, waving his hand around to try and get the attention of anyone watching.

  A sound came from beyond the wall, then before anyone could react the door opened, a hand grabbing Mathew and pulling him inside. Joe wondered if he was invited or not, then seeing the hand beckoning at him within the darkness, he stepped over the threshold.

  The door was quickly closed behind him.

  A young girl, of maybe twenty wearing bike leathers, and with a pierced nose, stood in front of them both.

  “Er, I’m here for—”

  “Yeah, I know. He told me to let you in.” She frowned. “Follow me.”

  He wondered who this new addition to the group was. They left the small, dimly lit, shed-type room which smelled of damp and moved into a narrow corridor, following the girl towards light and another door. She knocked three times and it opened. Mathew had been this way before and knew some but not all of the labyrinthine layout of Greg’s domain. But even he was surprised on entering Greg’s workshop, which was busier than usual.

  The space was L-shaped and with high enough ceilings to fit a coach inside. Opposite the entrance were two desks sat along bare-brick walls, which were full of monitors and cables. A teen was sitting at one with headphones on, an older man Mathew recognised, to his right.

  In the centre of the room was a coffee table, with two sofas facing it. On these were three more individuals, a man and woman, perhaps in their early thirties, who, like the teen were new to Mathew, and from how they were hanging on each other were a couple, and an elderly lady, sitting alone but focused on reading a large book of some kind. He had known Mavis, Greg’s friend for some time.

  The indoor garden area to the left hadn’t changed much, apart from the fact that it was more lush than before, the rows of tall shelves overflowing with plants.

  The right side though, before the room veered around to the vehicle bay, was the most transformed with floor to ceiling columns of boxes and crates. He had seen some of Greg’s supplies before, but not to this extent.

  One of the boxes shifted and an unshaven man in his seventies appeared, walking with a slight limp. Behind Greg were two people Mathew did not care for much. Argo and Clara. A couple who liked to think of themselves as soldiers even if as far as Mathew knew, they had never served. He was a tall, muscular man, and she sightly smaller, but almost equally well built, both were wearing fatigues with body armor.

  Greg’s brow was tight, with an expression of someone that had just woken up. He gestured toward Joe. “Who the hell is this?” he grumbled. Mathew began to answer but the old man followed up with another question. “And where the hell have you been? You were meant to be here hours ago!”

  “Yes. Sorry. I got delayed. Actually, we were kidnapped, um, twice. But this is Joe…” He looked at Joe. “I don’t know your second name.”

  Argo rolled his eyes.

  Greg continued. “So you have brought a stranger to my place?”

  “No! Well, not really. Joe’s former military. He helped get me here!”

  Greg looked away. “Well, he can leave. Too many hens in the henhouse and all that…”

  Joe looked at Mathew. “I wish you all the best.”

  “Hey! No!” Mathew’s attention whipped between Greg, who was looking at him again and his new found friend. “Joe? I thought if you came here, you would see what we are doing, and maybe you would want to help…”

  Joe looked across the room, then back to him. “I got to find my kid, Mathew. You know that.”

  “Where’s your kid?” said the girl in the leathers, who was leaning up against the far wall.

  “Kensington.”

  “Not far,” said the elderly woman in the direction of the old Australian, who hadn’t stopped frowning.

  “What regiment?” said the tall man.

  “One para… Anyway. I need to go.” Joe turned to the door, ignoring the whispers behind him.

  Greg cleared his throat. “Wait. Maybe… we can help you.”

  Joe turned around. “I don’t need any help. But thanks.”

  Greg walked closer to him then waved a hand in the direction of the door. “Kensington’s maybe, thirty-minute walk from here, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “On a normal night. But right now, there’s maybe ten or so thousand of the dead between this place and where you want to go.”

  “Not including the undesirables,” said the old woman.

  “Or the animals,” said the muscular woman.

  “I came all the way from south London. I can manage.” He turned back to the door, this time making it to placing fingers on the handle.

  “Your kid got a phone?” said a younger voice.

  Joe turned around once more. The teen had removed the headphones and was pivoted in his chair.

  “Her grandmother has, who’s with her. But the networks are down.”

  The teen looked at Greg, who nodded, then got up and walked to one of the boxes along the wall, pulling out a mobile phone with a large antenna. He looked back at Joe. “How old is grandma’s phone? No older than a year?”

  Joe looked around those looking at him, not sure if he wanted to stay any longer. “Yeah, she always wants the latest phone…”

  The teen handed the phone to the man in the chair who immediately plugged some cords into it, which were already connected to this computer. “Well lucky for you,” he said. “That she’s a tech fanboy, because we might be able to get a call through to her.”

  Mathew’s eyes grew large. “Yes! Stew! They have satellite capability!”

  Joe shook his head. “No, it’s only for emergencies.”

  Mathew continued his enthusiasm. “No, no! That’s just a software restriction. It’s possible to hack our outgoing signal to make it look like an emergency to her phone, but really it will be… you.” He looked at Stew, who was busying typing on his keyboard. A keypad image came up on his screen.

  Stew turned around. “Number?”

  The teen offered his headset to Joe, who cautiously took them, then after a slight pause trying to remember, relayed the number to Stew who typed it in. The room fell silent as a ringing tone came from a speaker somewhere.

  “Who… who is this?” Ella’s voice was distant and masked with static.

  The teen started typing on his own keys, using software on his own screen. “I’m working on the connection.”

  “Ella?” said Joe, holding the mike slightly closer to this mouth. “Can you hear me?”

  “Joe? Yes! Where are you? Are you…” The final word faded to silence.

  “Can you hear me? I’m in London. Central. Are you with Tia? Are you both ok?”

  She responded but her words were too quiet to be heard before they rose in volume again. “Sleeping. But both ok! Is Liz with you? Is she…”

  “Yes! She’s…” Joe wasn’t sure how to answer. “She’s ok. Where are you?”

  “Somewhere…” More quiet words. “London. Two hours on train. Southwest… Camp… soldiers… Joe?”

  Stew and the teen both swore in unison. Stew tapped away with his mouse, bringing up screens with diagrams. “Problem wasn’t our end. Looked like the connection was cut somewhere in the network. Almost like—”

  “They don’t want people talking to each other,” said Greg. He ran a hand over the white bristles on his chin. “Well, now we know.”

  Joe looked at those at the desks. “Can you call back?”

  The teen shook his head. “Trying. But it’s not making a connection.”

  “Fuck!” said Joe, swinging around in frustration. He sat on the back of the sofa, not realising that the elderly lady had made a cup of tea, which she offered him with a smile. He took it. “Thank you.”

  “So your daughter is at a camp in the southwest,” said Mathew.

  The teen had already brought up a screen with a map and various icons on it.

  Greg moved closer to him, with everyone else looking at the monitor as well. “I’m betting she’s in the Bulford internment camp.”

  Stew frowned. “We don’t know they’re internment camps.” He looked at Joe. “But yeah, that’s probably where your kid is.”

  Joe looked down, then took another sip of tea. An idea came to him and he looked back at the others. “Can you call my wife? I…” Stew was shaking his head.

  The youngster next to him responded first. “They know the channel we’re coming in on. They got it blocked. I can switch it up, using some proxies, but that’s going to take some time…” He glanced at Greg, who grumbled.

  “Sorry Mr Joe,” said the old man. “But we got more important things to take care of.”

  “Like what?” Joe looked across the other motley crew of faces in the large room. “What is this?”

  Mathew stood more upright. “We’re the London Guardians!”

  The girl rolled her eyes.

  The woman on the sofa snorted, while the muscular woman swore.

  Mathew looked around the room. “I thought that’s what we agreed on?”

  The frown hadn’t left Greg’s face, but his attention was on Joe. “That true? You were one Para? How long ago?”

  “Ten years. Medical discharge.”

  Argo looked at Joe. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Joe had to admit he felt… fit… strong. Even the ringing in his ear had… subsided. All he had left was the scar on his left hand, which he held up. “Injuries from an IED…”

  Greg nodded. “Well—” He waved a hand around those nearby. “— let’s just say we are like-minded individuals, who came up with a plan for what happened today.”

  The woman on the sofa smiled. “Zombies weren’t on my Bingo card, Greg.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Zombies, aliens, weird virus. It’s all the same, init? We prepared for the end of how things were. And now lots of people are dead, and we’re—”

  “In a shitty lockup in Acton,” said the man next to the woman.

  She stood, moving forward and offered a hand to Joe, which he shook. “I’m Grace. A doctor in my day job.” She looked at the man. “This is Harry, my husband. A writer.” She looked at the teen. “That’s—”

  “You can call me Cyber.”

  “— Ken.”

  The teen frowned and she continued, giving everyone else’s name. Finally she looked back at Joe. “So what’s your plan?”

  He shook his head. “Honestly I don’t know. Have to get back home, south of the river.”

  Argo shook his head. “That’s not happening. Apart from the things, there are gangs and still some elements of the armed forces trying to secure certain locations, who will shoot you on sight, thinking you’re the former.”

  Joe looked at him, emotion in his face. “I have to. She’s alone.”

  Greg let out a sigh, while Mavis whispered something in his ear. He grumbled which he seemed to do a lot of and belatedly nodded. “Yes, yes, fine.” He looked at Ken and Stew. “Will it slow you down a lot if you try to make a new connection so he can contact his wife?”

  The teen looked at Stew, who spoke first. “If… we restricted it to SMS, we could maybe—”

  Ken’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! Disguise it as a data carrier signal.” He turned back to his screen, typing away. “That’s kind of clutch, Stew.”

  The older man smiled. “See I do have some good ideas.” He looked back at Greg. “It won’t affect things.”

  Greg nodded, turning to Joe. “I’ll do you a deal. If we get you in contact with your wife, then you got to help us with a little something?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  LIZ

  Liz opened her eyes to tapping. She blinked in the darkness then leaned forward to pull the curtain away a little to check on her home, but was met with a stilted, warped view of the street outside. Droplets ran down the glass as new ones gathered. For some reason the sight of rain made her feel better. A memory of a normal world.

  She wondered if the deluge would chase the things away. Maybe the dead were afraid of the rain… She snorted at her brain’s attempt at humour and moved closer to the glass. For a moment she thought the crazy idea might actually be correct but then a figure moved within the shadows and emerged into the light, the water being dropped from the skies seemingly having no effect on the thing. She watched it, an old man, his blazer and trousers soaked through, stagger along the pavement, bumping slightly into garden walls, being scraped by bushes and branches and keeping on going. In a different time, she would have presumed it was perhaps someone with dementia, and would have gone out to help.

  She suddenly remembered the paper note beneath the wiper and swore. She was going to have to—

  “Psss.”

  Liz jumped, turning around to face the slim figure of Alise in the darkness of the room. “Hell, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  Alise crept forward. “Sorry. I wanted to check you are okay? Pain?”

  Liz had almost forgot she had been injured. “Oh, I’m fine. I mean, not fine, but my leg is not hurting as much.”

  The young woman moved closer then nodded towards the window. “Any sign of Joe?”

  Liz shook her head.

  “Um.”

  “Yes?”

  “I was thinking about the flat downstairs.”

  “What about it?”

  “Maybe if we could make sure back door is good. I could stay there?”

  “Hm… Maybe. I guess. Don’t you want to be up here with us, though?”

  “I… prefer own space.”

  “Ok.”

  “I was thinking I could look now?”

  “Now? It’s still dark.”

  “Yes, but this house is quiet, and I already had quick look downstairs. But maybe you come with me to check out flat? Or are you tired?”

  Liz was feeling surprisingly awake. Although her joints and head ached. Time for more painkillers, she thought and took a few more from the packet and swallowed them with the remaining water. “Ok, but we should be quiet so not to wake James. Or he might think we’re being attacked or something.”

  Alise agreed and they sneaked out of the flat and down the stairs. Liz listened to the ground floor flat’s door, then on not hearing anything, turned the handle and pushed it open. She almost let her hand flick the light switch on, but pulled her fingers back from the darkness, just in time.

  They both waited in the gloom of the hallway, being alert to any sounds or awkward looking shadows.

  “I think it’s clear,” said Alise.

  Liz moved past her, trying to remember the layout of the long, combined living and dining room, and walked to the curtains which were still closed. She pulled the edge back slowly, being relieved to not see any broken panes, then pulled a little further and let her hand slide across the cool glass, looking for any cracks. There were none.

  She turned around to Alise with a smile. “Maybe this could…” The younger woman was looking past her. Liz pivoted, looking through the rain soaked partition to the dark form of a figure standing some ten or so feet away on the lawn. From their build, a slim woman was facing them.

  “You think it sees us?” said Alise.

  “I don’t know…” Liz moved as slowly as she could, reaching for the edge of the drape to pull it closed then stopped. The heavy clouds above had cleared and the sky contained a hint of the coming morning. The darkness was lifting, visibility improving.