Surviving the Fall: How England Died (32 page)

Chapter 14

Chris was in the backseat. He didn’t remember much of the escape from Liverpool.

Terry drove the Hummer through the city, pushing vehicles out of the way, avoiding and running over zombies, outrunning people trying to stop them. Outrunning the fires.

It had taken a good few hours to get out of the city. They headed south and east, back inland so they could cross the Mersey at the Runcorn bridge. Using the tunnel didn’t seem like a good idea.

They didn’t see too many other cars. But plenty of zombies, and plenty of people. Gangs of people, running, fighting. Families together. People on their own, young children on their own. Amy wanted them to stop and help, but Terry said no. He said that it would be too dangerous.

“Remember the Titanic? When the rescue boats went back, they were swamped. They sank. That would be us. You don’t think people will fight and kill to get this Hummer?”

Terry tried to keep them on the smallest roads, the little country roads that threaded through the Cheshire fields. Sometimes they had to hit the main roads, but when they did, Terry would use the road as a guide and drive the Hummer in fields next to the road. The Hummer seemed to be able to go anywhere. It had been a hell of an idea.

They headed towards Wales and the mountains. It was early evening before they passed the border.

Chris spent most of the journey in silence. The others had left him alone. They felt their own sorrow for Nan, but they didn’t dare guess how it had affected Chris.

Chris was trying to find the anger that had helped when his mum died, but it was wasn’t there.

All he found was nothing, a blank. He was a blank. No emotion left.

Amy had put her arm around him and whispered soothing words through her own tears, but he felt none of that.

He had never built up a wall around Nan. He never thought Nan would let him down, would leave, at least not without warning.

Zombies. Fucking zombies.

There it was. The anger, a hint of it, at least.

He looked out the window, they were driving across a field, slowly. A main road was beside them, but it was full of traffic and fires.

Figures wandered along the road, despondent, lost, stumbling. Dead.

And beyond the main road were the futuristic towers of an industrial park by the sea. All the lights from the factories, which had once made it look like a set from a sci-fi film, where gone. Out of control fires raged instead, hundreds of fires. Huge fires. The sky was burnt yellow and orange, and dirtied with smoke and floating black debris. It looked like the end of the world.

Chris sat up.

“We need to turn inland.”

Terry glanced at him. “You alright mate?”

Chris nodded. “We need to turn inland. Get away from the sea. There’s no people inland.”

“Ok. Have a look Nate, see what you reckon.”

Terry looked around the field they were on. No shuffling figures, no marauding gangs. Just sheep.

He slowed the Hummer down and turned round to face Chris.

“Hey Chris, thanks. For saving Nate,” said Terry.

Chris shrugged. “It’s ok. No problem.”

“But it was a problem. You did something for… I can’t guess how hard it was.” Terry was talking quietly. “I’ll never forget what you did.”

Nate turned round and smiled at Chris.

Chris felt something inside. Warmth. He pushed it away.

Amy held his hand, but he didn’t really feel it.

Nate spoke to his dad, pointing out something on the map. Terry nodded and started up the Hummer again, turning left, south, away from the sea and towards the middle of Wales and the mountains, and no people.

Chris looked at the picture of Granddad that Nan had rescued from the flat. He didn’t have a picture of Nan. He held the binoculars that she had also saved. He held them close to his chest. He tried to fight the tears, but he couldn’t.

No one had ever loved him like Nan. No one ever would. He was alone now.

Just him and the zombies. All the undead together.

Plane Dead

Chapter 1

“That’s strange.”

“What is?”

“Still no response. Let’s do another diagnostic. Make sure our radio isn’t out of action.”

“Ok, running diagnostics.”

“I’ll try the Tower again… This is flight WA-1254, Captain Andrew Bracknell to Tower. Acknowledge please.”

No response. Just static.

“Diagnostics all look green Andy,’ said Peter, the co-pilot.

Andy keyed the transmitter again. “This is Captain Andrew Bracknell, WebAir flight WA-1254, Airbus A319-100 from Malaga, requesting acknowledgement from Manchester Tower.”

Nothing.

“We’ve been in holding now for an hour, Andy,” said Peter.

“We’re still good for fuel.”

Andy glanced at the fuel gauge, just to be sure. He had checked the gauge five times in the past ten minutes.

The plane shuddered for a few seconds. Turbulence. The holding pattern had them at cloud level. Grey, repeating, incessant cloud.

“When did we last hear from the Tower?” said Peter, looking over the instrumentation panel, a green and red glow from the numerous diodes and switches reflecting off his skin.

“About twenty minutes ago. Something must be wrong. How busy is the airspace?”

Peter looked over the radar. “They’re stacking high.”

“Not just us then, must be something wrong. Who’s that?” He pointed at a small blip on the radar.

“That’s WA-4657. Stewart and Mark.”

“See if you can get them on the radio.”

Peter turned a dial on his transmitter. “WA-4657, this is WA-1254. Stewart? Mark?”

There was a short pause, then a voice, grainy and slightly distorted. “Hi, it’s Stewart. I guess you having trouble taking to ATC?”

“Hi Stewart,” said Andy. “You think we have a situation?”

“Possibly,” said Stewart. “Have you tried anyone else? We seem to be getting quite a stack here.”

“Not yet. How’s your fuel?” said Andy.

“Good. A few hours. You?”

He looked at Peter who mouthed a number to him, “We got another fifty three minutes. We’ll have to start approach somewhere, soon.”

There was loud knocking on the cockpit door, and a voice from the other side, “Captain, it’s me.”

Andy glanced to the CCTV screen that linked to the cameras in the cabin. It was Jenny, the head stewardess. Andy had flown with her before, nice woman who had been flying for a good twenty years. Very capable.

Andy nodded to Peter who got up and opened the door.

Jenny looked flustered. “Captain, I think we have an issue.”

“Ok, give me a minute.” He spoke into the radio again. “Stewart, I have to deal with something here. But see of you can start talking to any other planes - we’re going to have to start landing, or spreading to other airports. Going to have to get some order sorted.”

“Sure thing, Andy. I’ll be back in touch.”

Andy turned to Jenny. “What’s up?”

“The passengers are getting very restless Captain, angry even. We’re running out of excuses.” She glanced at the radio. “Is something wrong?”

“There could be. We have no contact with the Tower. We lost it about twenty minutes ago.”

Jenny’s face scrunched into a worried expression.

“It’s ok,” said Andy. “We’re going to sort out an approach pattern.” He smiled.

“Ok, Captain,” said Jenny, but she didn’t look convinced. “What shall I tell the passengers?”

“I’ll speak to them.”

She looked relieved. “Another thing, we have an ill passenger.”

“How ill?”

“Very. The other passengers don’t want to sit next to him. They’ve been mentioning the virus.”

“What symptoms is he showing?” said Andy.

“Sweating, fever, coughing, floating in and out of consciousness. The passengers nearby are demanding that we move him.”

“Ok.” Andy stared at the grey beyond the window, thinking. “We got any spare seats?”

Jenny shook her head.

“They’ll have to stay put. Can we move the ill passenger to the back? Put them in the galley?”

Jenny paused. She looked scared herself. But she said, “Ok. I’ll do that. How long is it until we land?”

“It’ll be within the next fifty minutes. One way or another.”

Peter let out a small laugh.

“Sorry?” said Jenny.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. You’d best get back to it Jenny, let me know if anything changes.”

She nodded and left the cockpit. When she opened the door, Andy could hear raised voices. Anger. Fear.

“I’d best chat to the passengers,” said Andy. He picked up the the intercom. “This is your Captain speaking, ladies and gentlemen. I would like to apologise for the delay. We have been in a holding pattern around Manchester for the last hour due to adverse weather conditions on the ground. We’ve had some pretty thick fog, making landing difficult. The weather has lifted, so we are now in a queue and will be making our approach soon. I would like to apologise again and thank you for your patience in this matter. If there are any changes I will let you know. We should be landing in the next forty minutes or so.”

Andy put down the radio.

“You think that will do it?” said Peter.

“Let’s hope so.”

Chapter 2

Jenny waited until the Captain began his announcement before making her way to the back of the plane. Passengers listening to the Captain were less likely to bombard her with the same questions about landing, the hold up, or the sick passenger.

Her plan worked until she got near the back of the plane where the sick passenger was sitting. His name was Frank. He was man in his sixties, travelling with his wife, Tracy.

Tracy was arguing with a passenger next to her, a young man with a neat haircut, white T-shirt and numerous tattoos.

“I understand what you’re saying,” said the man, “but we cant really risk it can we? There’s nothing to say he hasn’t got the virus.”

Those seated nearby sounded their agreement, their voices edged with an undercurrent of anger. Jenny looked over the surrounding passengers. Normal people, the people she saw everyday in her job. Probably saw most of them two weeks ago, happy, chirpy, excited about their holiday. Now angry, full of blame. Scared.

“Where have you lot been?” A red faced man pointed at Jenny. His eyes wide open.

Jenny ignored him and leaned over to speak to Tracy and Frank.

Tracy was close to tears. She held her husband’s hand tightly, her faced screwed up in worry. Her breathing shallow.

Frank himself was struggling to breath. Sharp, hard gasps. His eyes half open. Small dribbles of drool pooling on his chin.

“Tracy, can you and your husband come with me please, we’re going to try and find him somewhere more comfortable.”

Tracy nodded, looking relived, her eyes full of hope.

The man next to the couple, slid out into the aisle. “Well, I think it’s for the best. Obviously sitting here isn’t going to be good for him. He needs more space.”

The nearby passengers again confirmed what the man was saying.

“He needs medical attention.”

“It’s best that he gets somewhere to lie down.”

“It’s too cramped and hot for him here.”

Jenny nodded to Carl, another steward, to come and help.

“Come on then,” Carl said to Tracy, helping her out of her seat. “Let’s get you into the back.”

Jenny helped Frank up. It took a few nudges to get him to move, “Come on Frank, we’re going to get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Frank looked at her with glazed eyes, seemed to realise that he was expected to move, and shuffled along the three empty seats into the aisle.

The plane shook.

More low cloud turbulence.

Frank fell forward and landed on a woman in the seat opposite.

She cried out, pulling back, trying to get away from Frank. She pushed him.

“Get him off me!” her voice was tinged with panic.

The woman’s husband gasped and pushed at Frank. Jenny caught Frank as reeled back into the aisle. Carl helped to steady Frank.

Jenny gave a stern look at the two passengers, and then with Carl, walked Frank down the aisle the few yards to the galley section at the back of the small plane. Passengers edged away as they passed.

Tracy stood in the galley, her hand on her mouth, watching her husband.

Jenny and Carl manoeuvred Frank onto one of the steward’s seats and strapped him in. His head lolled from left to right. Jenny pulled the galley curtains closed.

“When are we landing?” said Tracy. “We have to be landing soon, he needs a doctor.”

“Would you like a drink?” said Carl.

Tracy looked confused for a moment, then said, “Yes, a coffee please. No, a gin. Gin and tonic.”

“Coming up.”

Jenny rested her hand on Tracy’s shoulder. “We should be landing soon, ok? I’ve just spoken to the Captain, and we will be approaching in the next thirty minutes or so.”

Carl passed the drink to Tracy. She took it with shaking hands. “Do you think he has this virus?” she said in a hushed voice, her eyes glancing towards the curtains separating the galley from the rest of the plane. “I’m sure can’t be that serious. Probably something he picked up in Spain. He was fine only a few hours ago. We would’t have got on the plane otherwise. We haven't been eating anything funny either.”

“Has he been-” began Carl, then he stopped himself. “Has he been in any fights?”

“You want to know if he’s been bitten, don’t you?” said Tracy. “That’s what they say isn’t it, that people who are bitten get it?”

Carl put on his most placating voice, the one Jenny usually heard him use with screaming toddlers, “It’s important that we know exactly what’s happened so we can get him the right treatment as quickly as possible, when we land.”

Jenny glanced uneasily at Carl. Earlier that morning in a pre-flight briefing they had been told to look out for passengers with bite marks, flesh wounds, or any sort of skin trauma. These passengers would not be allowed to fly. They had also had to ask all the passengers if they had been bitten or attacked in the previous week.

“It’s ok, Tracy, you won’t get in any trouble.” said Jenny. “Sometimes we forget things, and only remember them later on. What’s most important is that we find out what’s happening.”

Tracy downed the rest of her gin. She looked at the thin curtain separating the galley from the cabin. She turned her back on it, drawing Carl and Jenny in closer.

“He had an argument, last night, at a restaurant,” she said quietly.

“Go on,” said Carl.

“It was a Spanish man, he was being rude to people, pushing and shoving. Shouting. Frank is usually very placid, he’s not an angry person, but this man, he pushed me over.” She fought back tears. “And Frank grabbed him and pushed him away. They had a bit of a scuffle.”

Tracy folded her arms and let out a small cry.

“Come on Tracy, almost there,” said Jenny.

“It’s on his shoulder. I think the man scratched him maybe, or something, it’s on his shoulder.”

Tracy couldn’t stop the tears anymore. She sucked air in and out, trying not to cry out loud.

Jenny hugged her and looked over her shoulder, nodding to Carl.

Carl leaned over to Frank and pulled his T-shirt to the side to reveal a ringed bite mark at the base of his neck. Red and swollen. White pus crusted around the bite.

“Shit,” said Carl.

Jenny had once been in an emergency landing, a few years ago. The plane had lost an engine. Emergency oxygen masks, fire engines on the runway, passengers in tears, panic.

She had felt sacred then, but that fear was nothing to the cold anxiety that gripped her on seeing the bite.

“Carl, do you want to look after Tracy? I’ll just go and see the Captain.”

Tracy leaned down to hug Frank, crying.

Jenny rushed down the aisle, ignoring the shouts of the passengers.