Surviving the Fall: How England Died
SURVIVING THE FALL
by Stephen Cross
Copyright © 2016 by Stephen Cross
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Holiday Apocalypse
Saturday 20th May, early evening, Cornwall
Jimmy sighed and looked in the rearview mirror. The old bat was still moaning about her ‘bite’, and making so much fuss that the other olds in the minibus had joined in.
“Alright, Violet, alright, we’ll be back soon enough and nurse can sort you out.” He turned off the A-road onto a country lane. It was six in the evening, it would be another thirty minutes until they got back to the rest home, and then another half hour until he could sign off. He couldn’t wait, what a bloody day.
Stan leaned forward, “Really, Jimmy, you should have called the police and an ambulance. She needed immediate medical assistance. I’ll be sure to report you.”
There were mumbles of agreement from the rest of the van. Jimmy rolled his eyes. Calling the police would have been a nightmare - he knew how it would go. An hour waiting for them, more time making a statement, another few hours in hospital. He would have been stuck there until midnight, and there goes his date with Britney.
“I have a headache,” he heard Violet moan from the back of the van.
“She has a headache!” parroted the rest of them.
Jimmy dug around in the glovebox and pulled out some ibuprofen.
“Here you go,” he passed the tablets to Stan. “Get her to take two of these.”
Stan looked at the tablets. “She can’t take these! Not with her other medicine. We need to get her to a hospital.”
Jimmy shook his head, “We’re closer to the care home now than we are to any hospital.” He glanced at Violet again. She did look rather pale, and she was sweating now. Maybe that old drunk who’d bit her had some sort of disease. He started driving faster, just in case she was ill, best to get there sooner rather than later. Keep himself out of trouble.
What sort of a nutter bites people anyway? The trip had gone smoothly right up to the end of the day. Nice afternoon in Newquay, the old buggers walking by the sea with their ice creams, then about to set out home and some loon attacks Violet, just as they are getting in the minibus. A stinky tramp by the looks of him, appeared from nowhere.
Jimmy was quick, he was pleased with that. Kick boxing was paying off. He had got the tramp and punched him hard, he went down like a sack of shit. Got straight up again though, to give him his dues. Luckily by then, all the other olds had got Violet and themselves in the minibus, shit scared the lot of them. So Jimmy knocked the tramp down again and got in the van quick smart. Not worth fighting drunks, they kept going til you knocked them out, and then you’re in danger of the pigs doing you for assault! Crazy world alright.
Jimmy thought that would be the end of it, until she started moaning about the bite. Apparently he’d caught her on the neck, just a nick, but enough for her to make a fuss all the way home. They loved a fuss.
“Jimmy! Jimmy! She’s passed out!”
“What?” He looked in the mirror again, and saw her head lolled over to the left.
Stan leaned forward again, “You silly young fool, I told you she needed medical assistance, she must have a dangerous infection!”
“Look, just shut it and look after her, we’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Jimmy drove faster and tried to black out the shouts and moans aimed at him. He was for it now, there’d be all sorts of inquiries. Might even lose his job.
He raced the van through the narrow Cornwall lanes, taking chances on the blind bends. The olds started shouting about his driving. Did they want to get back quickly or not?
There was a scream from behind him. “I’ve had enough of this,” he said to himself before shouting, “What’s going on now?”
More screams, louder, and a strange moaning sound. Stan was trying to crawl over the seat into the front, “Stop! Let me out, let me out!”
Jimmy pushed at Stan, “What the bloody hell are you doing? Get back!” He pushed on Stan’s face, but the old bugger kept coming. Jimmy gave up and let Stan fall headfirst into the front seat.
Jimmy took a turn too fast and nearly ended up hitting a wall. He righted himself and put his foot on the accelerator. Satisfied he was going in a straight line, he turned to see the source of all the chaos from behind, and his face was immediately sprayed with blood.
“What the fuck?” he shouted.
Violet clamped her teeth down on Deborah’s cheek and ripped the flesh off in one thick slab, all the way down to her shoulder. Blood spurted across the roof of the van as Deborah screamed, the bones and muscle of her jaw visible, the flesh under her eye socket flapping as she tried to pull herself away from Violet.
“Fucking hell!” shouted Jimmy. Transfixed on the scene of horror unfolding in the back of the van, he let go of the steering wheel.
The van veered off the road and hit a telegraph pole. Jimmy was flung forward and his head hit the steering wheel. He blacked out immediately, which was just as well.
Monday 15th May - Leeds
Jack sat at his desk and switched on his computer. The familiar hum broke the silence of the empty office. He was always first in, and last to leave. He cursed to himself as he tidied a pile of papers that had been untidied by the cleaners. They were paid to clean, not touch people’s stuff.
For half an hour, Jack worked in silence preparing for the day, organising his tasks. Meetings, and a few hours to work on the council budget.
Lights on the other side of the office hummed into life as other members of staff arrived. Conversation sprung up around the different cubicles. Phones began to ring. Printers started to chug into life. Jack’s peace broken.
In the corner of his eye he saw Stewart walk across the office, to sit on the edge of Jack’s desk. Jack eyed the pen that Stewart had moved to make room for himself.
“Hey Jack, how you doing?”
“Good thanks.” Jack looked up only long enough to make brief eye contact, then returned to looking at the news site he was browsing.
Stewart continued. “I’ve just been in a meeting with Peter. He said he asked you to redo your report using my new spreadsheet.”
Jack nodded, focusing on the news. An article about Brazil caught his eye.
“Hey look, sorry about that,” continued Stewart. “Must be a pain to have to redo your report?”
Jack moved closer at the screen, reading the article. “What?” Jack looked up, annoyed. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. It won’t take me long.”
“You sure you don’t mind? I can have another word with Peter if you like?”
Jack stared at the screen again, feeling anger and frustration growing - the news about Brazil was bad. He remembered Stewart and smiled, “Look, really it’s ok. Honestly. I don’t mind.”
Stewart nodded, “Knew you’d be cool with it. Cheers pal.” Stewart jumped off the desk and made to walk away, but paused. “Oh, by the way, you’re going on holiday next week aren’t you, to Brazil? You should check out the news. Some weird shit going on down there. Later.” He walked away.
Jack grabbed his mobile phone and called his wife.
“Amy, have you seen what those bloody idiots are doing in Brazil? They’ve closed the airports!”
“What? They can’t!”
“There’s something going on, riots or something. Our insurance had better cover us for this…”
Jack realised his voice was rising above the standard office din and was drawing attention. He walked quickly to the corridor.
“I’ve been looking forward to this for six bloody months, it’s the only thing that’s kept me going.’
“Me too,” sighed Amy. “You said riots, Jack?”
“Riots, so called terrorist threat. Usual bollocks.”
“It may be over by next week, why don’t you contact the airline and I’ll phone the hotel, see what we can find out.”
Jack let out a slow breath. “Ok. Good idea”. He looked out over the grey and miserable skyline of Leeds. Heavy clouds sat motionless above the city, dripping slow rain onto the roads and people.
“And Jack…”
“Yes, I know. I’ll be calm.”
Reuters Special Report 06/05/2016
Brasilia, Rio De Janeiro, Sau Paulo and Curitiba are among many Brazilian cities that have closed their airports under order of the Brazilian government. Many seaside towns and cities have closed their ports. There are reports emerging that the UN and the US have called for all travel in and out of Brazil and surrounding countries, including Bolivia, Paraguay, Columbia and Venezuela to be stopped for an indefinite period until the crisis has passed.
The nature of the crisis is still uncertain. Reporters have been detained within their hotels under military curfew and are relying on interviews with local staff. This report comes from Sam Thomas in Rio De Janeiro.
“From my hotel room I can sit on the balcony and look out over the city to see fires, hear gunshots, screams - the sounds of increasing disorder. Violent clashes between protesters, the police and the military have escalated to unprecedented levels over the night.
“It is unclear when the riots began, and even what the rioters are protesting against. I have interviewed a chef in my hotel, who started his shift just before we were interned - he told me that the violence started late last night in one of Rio’s largest favelas.
“To add to further speculation and fear, is an apparent internet shut down. People are unable to access Twitter, Facebook, and a number of other social network and news sites. I myself have had to file this report using my satellite phone on the balcony, as the hotel internet connection is inaccessible.
“Whatever is causing these riots, whatever has brought about these untold levels of violence, the Brazilian government is very keen to stop the world from finding out what, exactly, has happened”
Jack sat in the office canteen waiting to speak to the airline, his phone held to his ear.
He put down his coffee and looked around the room. The same people sitting in the same chairs, talking about the same things to the same people. He shook his head and looked to the ceiling where the strip lights beamed.
He listened to the on-hold music on his phone for a good five minutes before there was finally an answer.
“I’ve read that all flights into Brazil have been cancelled?” said Jack. “Can you tell me what’s happening?”
“That’s correct, Mr Barnes, we have been told that there is a government decree closing all travel into and out of Brazil, passed early this morning.”
“Ok, why is that?”
“Erm…” There was a pause. “We have been told this is due to civil unrest. We don’t have any further information at the moment. I’m very sorry, Mr Barnes.”
“So what about our flight next week? We’re due to fly to Sao Paulo on Tuesday.”
“We have no news on any flights for next week Mr Barnes.”
“Great, so, what, I just have to sit and wait?”
“I’m sorry but there’s nothing more I can tell you.”
Jack hung up the call. He sighed and sat back in his chair, staring at his coffee. The one thing he had been looking forward to all year, the break he needed. The break from this place. The break from this life. Gone.
He looked at the clock, two thirty in the afternoon. He would speak to Amy later, at the moment he didn't have the energy, and thought it likely he would lose his temper. He didn’t want to take his frustration out on her.
