The sound from the alley had stopped.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JOE

  Joe sat with his back up against a shutter of a cake shop. To his left a woman with blood smeared across her cheek, rocked gently back and forth muttering something. Her fingers gripping a photo. To his right, a man who filled out his hooded winter jacket well, was hugging a small computer tablet close to his face, tapping away at it. In front of them both were thousands of people. Some standing, some sitting, most with the same glassy look of bewilderment.

  They were interned inside Paddington train station in north London. The location made sense. The station took up an entire block and was bordered by a hospital. It also had an underground station and even a natural moat, a canal on its northeast side. Most of the block was three to four story buildings. Basically the place was about as natural a fortress as you could get in the middle of a city of almost nine million people.

  But for Joe, it was a prison. He had protested with the soldiers when they saved him and Isa in South Kensington. Told them that he had come all the way from south London to get to his daughter and mother-in-law. They didn’t care. Orders were orders, and their orders were to find anyone who wasn’t dead and evacuate them to Paddington. They had told him that his family were probably there as well, but he had spent an hour after he arrived searching the despairing and frightened faces of everyone he came across and none were right.

  After that he tried to leave but every entrance was guarded. So here he was listening to the din of desperate people, while trying to come up with a plan of how to get past the guards, sandbags and barbed wire that ringed the building.

  Every while and again there had been a tannoy announcement that there was a train leaving, and those with the right number mark on their wrists, something Joe was also given on arriving, should get up and make their way to the appropriate platform.

  His was twelve hundred, and he had ignored two chances to board a train already.

  “Hey, mate.”

  Joe looked up at the young, tall man in front of him, who like a few others around him was wearing a hoody.

  “You got a light?”

  The man had no cigarette, nor did his friends.

  “Don’t smoke,” said Joe without looking up.

  “What else you got?” He looked at Joe’s pack, that was by his side. “What’s in that?”

  The woman on Joe’s left held up her photograph to the wiry man. “Have you seen—”

  The photo flew into the air from the slap the man have given it. The woman scrambled after it. The man’s friends giggled.

  Joe looked up at the man, whose face was mostly shadow, despite the bright lights hanging in the ceiling. “Move along.”

  The man’s head snapped back to Joe. “What the fuck you say to me, old man?”

  The rotund individual to Joe’s right cleared his throat. “Ahem.” The gang and their leader looked at him, who Joe could now see was someone in their early thirties with a beard and glasses.

  “You want some?” said the tall man.

  The bespectacled man nodded to Joe’s wrist, where a tattoo was just visible beneath his jacket. “You know what that tattoo is?”

  The tall man looked at his friends then back to the questioner. “What’s that got to do with anything? I reckon someone as fat as you—”

  “That’s a special forces tattoo. SAS.”

  The tall man looked back at Joe who was looking directly at him. “That true?” His tone had changed. His friends were a little twitchy.

  “Move along…”

  After a pause the tall man turned to his friends. “Let’s go. We got enough shit anyway.” They moved away.

  Joe looked at the man to his right, who had returned his attention to his tablet. “I’m not special forces. I got the tattoo because I lost a bet.”

  “But you are military, right? You got that look about you. My older brother is in the paras.”

  Joe nodded.

  “I’m Mathew.”

  “I’m Joe.”

  Mathew nodded to the crowds of people filling the station. “There’s too many here. If one of those things gets inside…”

  “This building’s got a lot of protection. And the trains seem to be running. They’ll get everyone out by midnight… You know what the things are? What’s happened to people?”

  Mathew’s eyes shifted around the closest groups. “It’s the dead. They ain’t anymore.”

  Joe turned away with a mixture of frown and smile. “The dead are dead. Whatever has happened to the others, it’s not that.”

  Mathew checked again for anyone listening to their conversation then leaned in closer to Joe. “It’s the pesticide. You know? What happened with Sentriculture.”

  A memory pinged in Joe’s mind of the news he and Liz were listening to in the morning. He looked away.

  “You don’t have to believe it for it to be true. They fucked up. Didn’t tell the government what they had done until it was too late, the damage was done. DNA altered across millions of species, plants, animals, us! Everything!” He sat back. “But this, what’s happening now. Something triggered it. Something else that the company did. I don’t know what. But I’m trying to figure it out.”

  It was time for Joe to make another attempt to leave. He got to his feet, picking up his pack. “Well, I wish you luck with that.”

  “You going? I didn’t hear a platform announced?” Mathew looked to see if anyone else was moving away.

  “I’m going to take a leak first.”

  Mathew’s eyes grew large, he then smirked. “You can’t get out of here. They got it locked down.” He looked away. “There are ways out of the building though…”

  Joe sighed then sat back down. “And what might they be?”

  Mathew leaned in close again. “I’m only telling you, if you take me with you.”

  Joe scrunched his face. “You want to go back outside? Where your pesticide zombies are?”

  Mathew didn’t flinch in response to the sarcasm, instead he nodded. “Yes.”

  “Why? Why are you here?”

  “I was trying to get to my mate’s place. He’s a prepper. Bloody uniforms got to me before I could get there. It’s not too far from here. Few miles to the north. If you help me get there—”

  “I got another place to be.”

  “You’re looking for someone aren’t you? Wife? Kids?”

  “Kid.”

  “The streets are swimming with the things, and soldiers. It’s an all out battle outside. My mate’s got weapons. He’s ex military like you. He might even help you find your kid. But you gotta get me out of this place.”

  Joe looked at the sea of people.

  “Or you can stay here. Up to you.”

  “Fine. We go to your mate’s place. Then I’m leaving. I don’t need anyone to help me.”

  “Ok, sure. Whatever you want.” Mathew began to pick up his own pack.

  “Wait. If you had a way out of the station, why didn’t you leave already?”

  “Because I haven’t got the tool to break…” He shifted his weight a little, revealing a padlock, which was literally on the floor behind him, holding the shop’s shutter in place. “But I’m guessing you got something in your pack that’ll work?”

  Joe nodded. “Presuming we can get inside without the thousands of people noticing. Then what?”

  Mathew leaned in close, pushing his tablet screen in front of Joe. “This is a staff map of the station. You see the bit at the top right? We have to get through that door. Takes us into the tunnels below, then we go back up top and out across the river. If we can get into the shop behind us, we can use the staff corridors to get there.”

  Joe rummaged through his pack, finding what he needed. A multitool, then extracted the implement he thought would best fit the lock. “Sit forward a bit.” Mathew did, and Joe set about pushing the small hook like piece of metal into the lock and twisting. After a few attempts the bolt slid free.

  “Shit, you actually did it.”

  “Yup. But that’s only the first problem sorted. Now we need a diversion. Wait here.” Across the sea of people, the group of five youths from earlier, were sitting around a pillar. Joe reached into his jacket pocket, found what he wanted, then got up and weaved his way around the people sitting and standing, until he was looking down on the tall young man, who looked a little perturbed at seeing Joe again. Joe kneeled. “You want to make fifty quid?”

  “Maybe, what I gotta do?”

  Joe nodded towards one of the station gates, where people funnelled to get to the platforms. “When the next tannoy announcement happens, I need you to cause a distraction at that gate. I need everyone in this place, looking at you.” The young man began to speak but Joe continued, holding up a fifty pound note. “This is going to be over there, where I was sitting, just waiting for you to come and pick it up. I’ll leave it there when you do your thing. We got a deal?”

  The man nodded.

  Joe made his way back to Mathew, sitting next to him.

  “What was that about?”

  “Our way out of here without being noticed. Be ready.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  LIZ

  With shaking hands, Liz pulled the curtains back across the patio doors and locked them. She wondered if anyone or thing was out there, watching her. Watching a lone woman trying to fortify her home.

  The upstairs was a mess. Whoever had come into the house and assaulted her, had ransacked her bedroom and Tia’s. Drawers were pulled out, clothes thrown across the floor. They had gotten away with the only things of value. Some gold that used to belong to her father and Joe’s parents, and Tia’s computer.

  There was also Alise. The young woman was no longer in the house when Liz awoke. Had she returned to her flat like she said she would? She hoped so.

  She pulled the drapes back a few inches and took a final look at the garden, gate and shed, trying not to think about the body lying within it. A deep shadow covered the flower beds on the right side, near the fence. The first sign that night was coming.

  She looked back at the silent TV and its constant rolling scenes of mayhem, and recorded the time.

  “Four hours,” she whispered. Plenty of time for Joe to return home with Tia and Ella. The idea he wouldn’t was not something she could fully accept right now. He always returned. Even when he was in a war zone. That was something she loved about him. He could be counted on.

  She took one of the high-backed dining chairs, tilted it, then placed it below the patio door’s handle. Someone could just break the glass if they wanted in, but the chair gave her some comfort.

  She moved back into the kitchen, which she had mostly cleared up and placed the kettle beneath the tap and poured some water into it, then turned it on.

  At least the electricity was still—

  A booming knock at the front door made her jump and almost drop the mug she had just taken from the cupboard.

  She reached, then pulled out a chunky knife from the container, and walked quietly into the hallway.

  “Hey! Let me in! I’m the guy from across the street! In the first-floor flat!”

  Liz stood a few feet from the door. “So! What do you want?”

  “Quick! Let me in! I might not make it back to the house!”

  She moved to the spyhole, looking through it to better see if he was alone. It only gave her a view from his chest up but it was enough for her to recognise him from earlier. He was maybe early twenties and was wearing a woollen hat. She tried to see if there was anyone else with him, perhaps crouching low, but she could not see them. He also looked kind of anxious. She bit her lower lip, wondering what to do.

  “Shit! They’re coming!”

  She pulled open the door, grabbed the slim individual on the other side, tugging him into the hallway then slammed the door closed.

  Seeing the knife he backed up into the closed door, raising his hands. “Don’t stab me!”

  She held the knife out front. “What do you want?”

  He began to speak but then stopped on seeing the dried blood on her forehead. “What happened to you?” He looked at the broken clock on the floor.

  “I… some people, broke in. Hit me.”

  “Oh, shit. Sorry that happened.”

  “So what do you want?”

  “Er, bags!”

  “What?”

  “I mean, tea bags.”

  “Tea bags? You risked getting attacked by those things for tea bags?”

  “Well… I was out of tea, and the store is a block away and… probably looted. I wondered if you had any you could spare…”

  “Yes, I have tea bags.” She looked away for a moment. “Unless they took them as well.”

  “Can you lower the knife?”

  “Oh, sorry.” She moved towards the door, the young man keeping to the wall to keep his distance as she looked through the spyhole.

  “I’m alone.”

  She walked towards the kitchen. “Follow me.” He did, but kept at the entrance as she opened a cupboard and pulled down the white and green box. “How…” She looked at him. “You want a cup of tea?”

  “Sure. Thanks. No sugar.”

  She got a mug out. “What’s your name?”

  “James. James Mollet.”

  She got the milk from the fridge. “I’m—”

  “Liz, I know.”

  She froze. “How do you know?”

  “No, no, nothing weird. Sometimes I get your post. I put it through your letterbox. You’re Liz Halter? And your husband is Joe?” He looked into the dining room. “Where is he? I saw him come out earlier today, when there were people in the street.”

  She poured the boiling water into the mug, stirring the bag around. “He’s…” She was alone with a young man, that despite his slight build, could probably still overpower her. Problem was, she hadn’t the energy to lie, and her head was still pounding. “He went out looking for our daughter, Tia. She’s with my mother in Kensington.”

  “Oh…”

  She placed the mug of tea on the countertop, near him. “What about you? You live with anyone? What about the people in the flat below you?”

  “That was a guy and his mother. Nice people. That’s his car stuck in the street outside. I don’t know what happened to them… I live alone. Well, since my girlfriend left…”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  He sipped his tea.

  “Biscuits?”

  “Thanks.” He looked back at the TV in the dining room. “That’s… weird.”

  She slid the biscuit tin in his direction then moved past him and into the dining room. Gone was the news channel on the TV, replaced with a static image. A block of text on a navy blue background. She started reading it aloud.

  “This is a government issued emergency message. A virus of unknown origin has been released throughout the United Kingdom, leading to dramatic physiological effects on humans and animals. Please shelter in place. If that is not possible please find the nearest shelter. Emergency services may not respond due to overwhelming demand. Further updates will be given in due course.”

  “Dramatic physiological effects?” said James. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Liz stared at the screen for a moment. “You should leave. I’ll put some tea bags in a bag for you.” She walked past him back into the kitchen.

  “Oh, er, okay. I don’t mind staying a little—”

  Something clattered hard up against the patio doors, making him spill his tea in response. He looked at Liz who slowly crept into the hallway.

  She looked back at the blind covering the kitchen window, which was only a few feet from the patio door to its left.

  The large glass panel shuddered again making them both flinch, but worse was the squeaking coming from beyond the curtains as something slid across the clear partition.

  She wanted to know what was on the other side, but was too frightened to move. Instead, they both waited, listening to their own breathing.

  James spoke first. “I think it’s gone…”

  Liz slowly approached the back of the room, trying not to make any noise then waited a few more seconds before holding the edge of the drape, and pulling it back the tiniest amount to see outside. Yellow liquid dripped down the glass, tinting her view. She pulled it back a little more. The shed door was—

  Crimson bandages banged up against the glass inches from Liz’s face, making her yelp and jump back at the same time. The curtain fell back down as another impact hit the door, together with the sound of cracking.

  Instinctively Liz grabbed a vase that was on a shelf as the next hit was even harder, and fragments of glass fell to the carpet.

  The curtain fluttered from a light breeze which contained an odor of rot.

  “Let’s get out of here!” said James.

  “I’m not giving up my home!”

  James’ attention whipped between the curtain and Liz. “Not giving up, just relocating for a bit! I’m on a first floor, it’s—”

  The explosion of glass brought a gust of putrid air and flailing arms from a walking corpse. It staggered forward wrapped in the curtain, swiping at the space ahead of it, narrowly missing Liz who smashed the vase across its skull to little effect.

  It crashed into the chairs and table. Liz grabbed one, trapping the thing within the chair’s legs, then with James’ help, pushed it backwards, towards the jagged hole, where it hit causing more glass to fall and shatter, but the dead, animated thing fell outside, onto the concrete.

  It was then that Liz looked at what was staggering across her garden. More of the dead. Not just human but other things, things which were just a mangle of fur and ribs and claws, but somehow still functioned.

  She turned to the young man. “Yes, I’ll go to your place. But I need to grab some things! Keep them out.” She handed him control of the chair.