The Infestation
Author: Matt Shaw
Date: 2013-07-24 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Post Apocalyptic
Description: The Fringed Ornamental tarantula has been known to cause a coma to some of the people it has bitten. The Chinese Bird Spider, known for its extreme aggression, has caused at least one infant death and has a venom which kills 50% of the lab mice it was tested on. The Mouse Spider and the Sydney Funnel-Web spider - both tiny - can bring down a full-sized adult if an anti-vemon isn't administered quickly enough. The Brown recluse spider, and the Chilean recluse - both extremely venomous with their bites causing necrosis; dying tissue at the site of the bite with potential for the wound to grow up

© Matt Shaw

The right of Matt Shaw to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any format without written consent from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for insertion in a magazine, newspaper or broadcast.

The characters, and story, in this book are purely fictitious. Any likeness to person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

With thanks to Lauren McIntyre for her hard work on the cover - even with all my strange requests and demands!

Want to find me?

www.mattshawpublications.co.uk

www.facebook.com/mattshawpublications

FROM THE SAME AUTHOR

Love Life

The Vampire’s Treaty

(The Peter Chronicles)

Happy Ever After

G.S.O.H Essential

A Fresh Start

PETER

All Good Things

9 Months Book One

9 Months Book Two

9 Months Book Three

Non-Fiction titles

im fine

Still Fine

PlentyOfFreaks

Wasting Stamps

Self-publishing: Releasing your book to the digital market

Collections

Scribblings From a Dark Place

9 Months Trilogy

Happy Ever After Trilogy

Reviews, Critics & Mystery Shopping (DELETED TITLE)

The Story Collection: Volume One

The Story Collection: Volume Two

Shorts

A Taste of Your Fears (part of the Literature-Ly You range)

A Taste of Your Fears 2 (part of the Literature-Ly You range)

Novellas

Smile

The Dead Don’t Knock

Writer’s Block

Buried

The Last Stop

The Chosen Routes

A Christmas to Remember (YOU choose the story)

Romance is Dead

The Breakdown

The Cabin

The 8th

The Cabin II: Asylum

The Missing Years of Thomas Pritchard

Consumed

Influenza: Strain ‘Z’

The Lost Son

Picture Books

I Hate Fruit & Veg

A    W O R D

F R O M    T H E    A U T H O R

Okay, a confession; this isn’t the first time I’ve written this story. I mean, well, it’s the first time I’ve written this story but I’ve had the idea, and used it, before. You see, I also run a service called “Literature-Ly You” whereby I create stories based on the phobias of my readers, and their lives, giving them a personalised horror story.

The chances are, you could have already read a version of this tale in the book “A Taste of your Fears”. If you have, fret not, this is a different story and not a ten page short story which that one was. Think of it like this - “Toxin” (the story in “A Taste of your Fears”) is part of the same world but the characters and world, in this story, are completely unrelated and it shows you more of what happened.

In case you haven’t read “Toxin”, that particular story is a ten page story set in a room, showing the final scene of the two characters living in it. If you think of it as part of this world, the one you’re about to read, it would be set somewhere about halfway through this story. In “Toxin” you know something bad has happened but you don’t know how and you don’t know why. This particular story explains the how, the why and - more importantly - shows the complete conclusion.

What’s the reason for turning it into a longer story? Simple. I’m not cashing in. It’s just that I absolutely loved the idea behind “Toxin”. I knew that it had legs (so to speak) and I knew that it had great potential to freak out many of my readers - as well as potentially attract new ones too.

I liked the fact that I managed to come up with something new, original and exciting for a phobia which has been covered more times than I can remember with varying degrees of success.

Anyway, I don’t wish to build it up too much. I just hope, as ever, that you enjoy my work and - once again - I thank you for the continued support. And I thank you - with a fresh batch of nightmares for your dreams.

Regards,

Matt Shaw

T H E

I N F E S T A T I O N

P R O L O G U E

I’ve never been a fan of spiders.

Some people say they’re beautiful. Some people say they’re also necessary. I don’t think of them as beautiful or necessary though. The truth be told, they terrify me. The way they can scuttle across the floor at an alarming speed is enough to freak me out but it’s the fact that they then disappear into the smallest of cracks before you can do anything about getting them out of the house - or wherever you’ve seen them. Instead, you just get to stay there...Knowing...Just in that crack...There’s a spider...Watching...Waiting...As soon as you turn your back, you know it’s coming out and, from that moment on, it’s as good as lost until it wants you to find it.

At least, that’s how I think.

My irrational fear of spiders probably isn’t helped by my morbid curiosity either. I mean, I hate them and yet I still look into them. I Google image pictures of them. I read up about them. I know neither of those weird hobbies can be regarded as a healthy pastime and yet I can’t help myself. Even when I’ve read stuff which makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention and I feel my paranoia growing - I still can’t close the browser down or deny the need to fuel my constant yearning to learn more and give myself more reasons to hate them.

Just some of what I’ve read is the stuff of nightmares. Such as, the Fringed Ornamental tarantula which has been known to cause a coma to some of the people it has bitten. Even if the victim doesn’t slip into a coma - they soon find themselves in intense pain. Or the Chinese Bird Spider - a large tarantula which can have a leg span as large as eight inches. Reports reveal it’s known for its extreme aggression. I even read, somewhere, that it was the cause of at least one infant death. Admittedly one infant death doesn’t sound a lot but when you then go on to read that 0.70mg/kg  of the spider’s venom, a tiny amount, is enough to cause death in fifty percent of the lab mice it was tested on...Yeah, you don’t want to mess with these.

And then of course you have the Mouse Spider and the Sydney Funnel-Web spider - both tiny spiders. Both more than capable of bringing down a full-sized adult if an anti-venom isn’t administered quickly enough. These fuckers...They’re the reason steel toe-capped boots were invented. You don’t bother trying to put a pint glass over these things, to merrily transport them outside your home - you simply stamp on them. Hell, be safe...Keep on stamping. Maybe a little harsh towards the Mouse Spider, though. They’ve caused far less deaths, from what I’ve read on the Internet. Apparently they give what is called a ‘dry-bite’. Basically, they bite you - they just don’t give you any venom...Actually, fuck it, stamp on them regardless. The fact they bite you? Clearly they deserve a stamping. Or two.

Maybe you’ve read about the Brown recluse spider - or the sister species known as the Chilean recluse? Both species are extremely venomous too, just as the other spiders mentioned. The only plus sides are that they both have small fangs, making it hard for them to penetrate our clothes and - of course - the other plus side is in their name. They are reclusive. It doesn’t mean bites don’t happen. It just means they don’t happen as often. When they do, though...Yeah, nasty. Some of the more dangerous symptoms of their bites are necrosis - the dying tissue at the site of the bite. Research found that there’s potential for the wound to grow up to ten inches. If that wasn’t bad enough - they can then become gangrenous. Brilliant.

Three to four percent of Chilean bites ended in death whereby infection is caused throughout the body and can sometimes result in kidney failure. Another nasty bastard then.

Bring on the boot.

That’s not all though.

There are more species which can kill us.

Sadly.

From the same family as the Black Widow, the Redback spider. Before an anti-venom was created - fourteen people had been killed by these spiders. Others simply suffered from swollen lymph nodes, headaches, fevers, nausea and tremors. Worse symptoms saw seizures, coma and - in some cases - respiratory failure.

I weigh less than a gnat. Okay - not literally - I weight around nine stone. I’m six foot two and weigh around nine stone. I don’t need to be bitten by a Redback. Probably why I don’t often travel to Australia, I suppose.

The Black Widow rarely causes death. A nice spider, I guess. He only causes severe muscle spasms and sometimes spinal or cerebral paralysis. Oh, wait - did I say he was a nice spider? Fuck that. No such thing.

One late evening, browsing the net, I even found a six eyed spider which freaked me out, in the pictures I stumbled across. Called the Six-Eyed Sand spider - it’s one of the most venomous spiders in the world. Thankfully - says the Internet - it lives in areas where it doesn’t really have any issues with humans. Apparently it is also less aggressive than other spiders. Yeah, brilliant...Some species of dog are less aggressive than others too but that doesn’t mean you won’t get bitten by one of them on an off-day.

It’s found in Africa and South Asia - a good reason not to visit, in my eyes. Speaking of eyes - if you do get bitten, you can end up bleeding from your eyes. I mean, seriously, what the hell is that about? Bleeding from the skin and orifices? Charming little spider with - they say - no anti-venom.

Not that an anti-venom seems to mean fuck all in the many eyes of an arachnid. The Brazilian Wandering Spider - thought to be the most venomous, according to the Guinness World Records - has an anti-venom to its bite but, even then, people have been known to die after it has been administered. Oh but they did go on to say that the venom is currently being studied as a possible fix for erectile dysfunction.

Thanks - but no thanks. I’d sooner suffer from a Floppy One.

One bite leads to breathing problems, asphyxiation and death....Or something called priapism - meaning erections that last for a long time. Sometimes hours and sometimes days. That’s not right though, is it? I mean - who’d get a hard-on from being bitten by a spider? The only person I’ve known to get excited from a spider bite is Mary Jane. And, technically, she’s not even real!

“It’s none of those spiders,” said Emma, my wife. She was standing in the doorway to our en-suite bathroom. “It’s just a house-spider.”

“A house-spider? You just made that up,” I said.

I was standing next to her, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around my waist as I had been on my way to have a shower, before work, when I suddenly spotted an unwanted house guest stuck on the wall of the shower, its front leg twitching.

“Look,” I continued, “I don’t give a shit what kind of spider it is, or isn’t, I just want it out of the house so...Are you going to get rid of it for me, using your tried and tested method of a piece of paper and pint glass or am I going to hit it with something incredibly large until it’s no longer recognisable as a spider?”

“I’ve got to get the kids to school - can’t you just shower with it in there?”

“You want me to shower with the spider? You seen the film ‘Bird on a Wire’? Goldie Hawn? She has a shower in that film and a cockroach lands on her, whilst she’s showering...She opens her eyes...Sees it....Screams the place down....You want me to recreate that with a spider?!”

“It will run off as soon as you go in there,” my wife continued.

“It’s tapping its foot. It’s like it is patting the wall saying, ‘Yeah - come here so I can bite you’...I mean - don’t worry about it - it’s fine. If you want to go to school and leave me with the spider because you’re too scared to get it...Fine...Not a problem. But, I will be killing it.”

“Jesus Christ - get me a pint glass.” I pointed to an empty glass by the side of the bed - left there from my previous night’s drink. Emma sighed and walked over to where it sat. “Got any paper?”

“I’m standing here in a towel, what do you think?”

She sighed, again, as she opened one of my bedside cabinet’s drawers. I turned back to the spider, to keep an eye on it, just in case it made a run for it whilst she was getting ready the paper.

“No wonder my shampoo has been going down faster than usual,” I said, “little fucker has been going through it like there’s no tomorrow...”

“He isn’t using your shampoo,” Emma called from the other room. She appeared behind me, “Out of the way then,” she instructed me.

I didn’t need asking twice and I stepped into the bedroom.

I know my fear of spiders is irrational. I mean, going by the list of poisonous spiders I found online, I could understand a fear if I lived in some exotic area but not in Great Britain. Sure we get spiders but nothing that kills us. In fact, most of the time we don’t even have spiders that have fangs which can even penetrate our skin. I just hate them. Perhaps it’s my own father’s fault. He hated them too, when he was alive. I remember seeing him - actually, it was more or less in this situation I find myself in today - he was standing, in a towel, whilst my mum got rid of a spider from the bathroom he was trying to use. Maybe it is his fault.

Like my receding hairline.

“Okay, I’ve got it...” Emma called from the other room.

I moved back against the wall, to give her room to be able to come out of the en-suite bathroom without having to bring the spider close to me. She appeared within a split second - pint glass in hand. Inside the glass, the large spider sitting there.

“You can actually see the hairs on his legs,” she informed me - like I wanted to know that.

“Why do you think I’d want to know that? I mean - seriously...In your brain...”

“Have a look!”

“Seriously...In your brain...What made you think...”

“Look!”

She started walking towards me.

“Fuck off!” I yelled as I bounced past her, dropping my towel in the process, and shut myself in the shower room. I locked the door to ensure she couldn’t come in after me. “Just get rid of the fucking thing, yeah?”

“Relax, it’s going out of the window!” she called through.

“Not out the window...It just means it will land on the ground, outside, and then climb back up...”

“The fall will kill it...”

“First of all,” I said as I heard the window open, “it will probably break the fucking concrete out there, second of all...You do realise they float down, right? Something they do with their legs which enables them to float down...I don’t fucking know...Just something I read online...They don’t die. They just land and think, “How the fuck did I get out here?” and then they come straight back up the wall through the window again...”

I heard the window shut.

“You’re right,” she said. “He’s alive but he ran off into the bushes.”

“And did he crack the concrete?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Pot-holes. In the roads. Common knowledge they’re caused by people throwing spiders out of their houses. They open the window, toss the fuckers out...Crack!...Crack!.....Bang! FACT!”

“You’re an idiot. Enjoy your shower - I’ve got to get the children to school.”

Her footsteps got fainter as she walked away from the room - the last thing I heard her say was that she hoped I had a nice day.

I’m sure other things had happened that morning too but - well - that’s as much as I could remember. A lot has happened since then. Memories have since become blurred no matter how I’d wish them to remain clear and things have been forgotten - both intentionally and unintentionally.

Had I known that was going to be the last time I got to speak to her, I’d have wished her the very same thing. I’d also have told her how much I loved her and that I was grateful for the time we shared together and the children she had given me.

But I didn’t know and the words were never said.

I hope she knew.

D A Y    O N E

T h e    E n d    O f    T h e    W o r l d

When I came out of the en-suite bathroom, I didn’t pick the towel up that I had earlier dropped when my wife was chasing me with the pint glass. Instead, I kicked it towards the pile of washing in the corner of the room and opted for a fresh towel from the airing cupboard. It meant dripping water, off my body, through the bedroom and across the landing to get one but I’d rather a wet carpet than the shock of inadvertently picking up a spider. I mean, sure, she told me it ran into the bushes and that she had closed the window behind her but that doesn’t mean it didn’t figure out how to get back into the house and that it didn’t decide, as punishment to me, to hide in my towel.

My irrational fear of spiders meant I took no chances where they were concerned.

With the fresh towel, I started to dry myself whilst keeping an eye on the windows on the off-chance I could see anything crawling in. Great way to start a Monday morning, I thought. Like Mondays aren’t bad enough already being the start of yet another shitty working week, which you already know is going to drag on and on, but now I have to contend with that shit too.

I blame the unusually hot summer weather we’ve been having these past few weeks.

No rain, a hose-pipe ban in place, people with smiles on their faces as they enjoy the decent weather after a fairly mild winter. If this is Global Warming - we need to act now. I mean, don’t misunderstand me, I’m loving the weather...I’m just not loving the arachnids which seem to have come with it. Mind you, it’s not just them either - there are bigger crickets too...Not that I mind them but, I don’t even recall seeing one last year. Now - when we go to bed - we can hear them outside, singing their songs into the night sky as though doing some grand performance. Some grand performance you just wish you could end with a VAT of pesticide so you can get a decent night’s sleep.

I realised just how many more butterflies there were than usual too whilst walking to my car. Again, in the last few years, I hardly remember seeing any of them either but this year - most days you’d see at least ten flying merrily around as though drunk on life. I don’t mind butterflies though - at least they’re pretty to look at. With spiders and crickets, there’s nothing pretty about them.

I pressed the alarm fob, on my keychain, as I neared my Mercedes - unlocking it in the process - and climbed into the driver’s seat, gasping for air in the process.

Jesus, half past eight in the morning and it’s already sweltering. If it carries on like this, there’s a good chance it could be the hottest day yet.

I slid the key into the ignition and turned it, causing the engine of the company car to spit into life. Even the engine sounded as though it couldn’t be bothered to do anything in this heat. Fuck the fuel consumption, I thought as I pressed the air conditioning button. It’s not like I pay for the fuel anyway. I mean, not by the time I’ve claimed it back anyway - sometimes sneaking through some of my wife’s receipts wherever possible too.

Hey, don’t judge me! With the cost of living going up, two kids to feed and a wife who likes the finer things in life - not forgetting the lack of pay-rise for the last couple of years - a man has to do what a man has to do! And, if that means sneaking some dodgy receipts through pay-role for an extra quid here and there - well - so be it!

With the radio also kicking into a stuttered life, I gently pressed my foot on the accelerator and pulled out from my driveway - ready to face the day. Well...As ready as I’d ever be in this weather.

As I drove down the road, I remembered what it was like when the intense heat first hit. The weatherman stated it would be a long lasting heatwave. For once, it was nice to note, they weren’t wrong but we didn’t know that at the start - when they first spoke about it. We simply thought it was going to be another one of those flash in the pan kind of heat-waves we get here; one day of it being insanely hot and the following day of torrential rain and thunderstorms. For the first few days hundreds of people phoned into work sick across the south; all claiming to have the same stomach bug. News programmes reported there had been a record high for people calling in sick. Not that it lasted - a couple of days and the ‘sick’ folk were soon back behind their desks, counters or whatever they worked behind...Soon back to work, fully recovered and with a nice tan.

I didn’t take any time off work. I had worked right through. Sometimes it was harder than other days and I was so hot that I had wished I had phoned in sick - just so I could have stayed at home in the kids’ paddling pool whilst they were at school...Figured there was no point, though. I knew that I’d enjoy the day of lazing around the pool so much that I wouldn’t want to go back. I’d be inclined to take more days off and, like I said, bills need paying. Besides, no pay-rise for the last few years - surely this is the year it’s going to be coming and, on the off-chance it’s only to select people...Well...I want to be seen as a good investment.

Shit!

I slammed on the car’s brakes and skidded to a halt. On a road which was usually quiet at this time of the morning, all I could see was a string of traffic stretching out into the horizon.

“What the fuck is this?” I said out loud as though I expected someone to come back to me with an answer. Probably just as well there was no one else in the car - what with the heat and the unpleasantness of the spider this morning, I’m not in the mood for some idiot’s response of ‘traffic’ to my rhetorical question. I flicked the radio channels over - trying to find a traffic report but soon gave up when I realised there was nothing but the usual annoying early morning jockeys.

Must be an accident, I thought.

Probably someone out, speeding, enjoying the early morning sunshine. Perhaps they turned the corner, got blinded by an unexpected ray of sunshine and slammed into something? Easily done - especially if it’s a motorcyclist.

People on motorbikes annoy me the way they think the speed limit is only aimed at cars. They just blast along, without a care in the world and then - when they have an accident - it’s the people in the cars they hit who get the stick. Government safety campaigns tell us to ‘Think Bike’ but, at the end of the day, surely it would make more sense for them to tell the guys, and girls, on the death traps to ‘Think Car’? They’re probably just too scared to say it for fear of upsetting some relative of yet another dead motorcyclist.

The sound of a siren broke my internal monologue of a rant. I looked into my rear-view mirror and saw an ambulance coming up behind me - using the opposite side of the road, which was unusually quiet, to bypass the jam that I was sat in. Seconds after originally hearing the siren, the ambulance shot straight past me.

Fucking motorcyclists, I thought as I jumped to the potentially wrong conclusion.

More sirens. Same direction. I looked back into my rear-view mirror and noticed two police cars speeding in my direction. Again, just like the ambulance, they shot past my car - and the other stationery vehicles. Seconds later - a fire truck.

All those vehicles. Possibly not a motorcyclist then.

Maybe two motorcyclists, I thought.

I reached down into my trouser pocket and pulled out my mobile phone. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how many bikes it may or may not be...It’s not going to stop me from being late. A quick phone call, to call ahead, should stop me from landing in any major hot water although, I have to say, all of this just sums up my day perfectly.

I dialed the number, hit the green button on the phone’s keypad, and waited for the connection. I wonder if there’s any way I can just go back to bed and start again? Although I’ll have to check under the bed, first, to make sure that spider definitely didn’t come back in...

“I’m sorry - the networks are currently busy!” said a robotic female voice, down the other end of my mobile phone.

“What the fuck?” I need to stop swearing. I keep accidentally letting the bad words slip out in front of the kids and they’re at that age where they seem to copy everything I say, or do, even if they know it’s wrong. Sometimes I just can’t help myself, though. Probably won’t be winning any Parent of the Year awards.

I hung up and re-dialed. Again, I waited for a connection to my work’s landline.

“I’m sorry - the networks are currently busy!” the same message again.

“Shit!”

I looked ahead of me, as I tried the phone again, and noticed other drivers from cars further down the jam were standing in the road with their phones in the air as though trying to find reception.

“Okay - not my work’s number then,” I said, after originally thinking the landline had gone down. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time it had gone down. Since changing service provider - we’d had nothing but trouble with the phones and Internet. And when you’re supposed to be selling, on the phone, all day - I can’t explain what a pain in the arse it is to have a network that goes up and down more than a whore’s knickers.

I got out of the car and called out to a fellow male driver, who was also standing beside his vehicle, “Hey! You got any signal?” I shouted.

“Nothing that can seem to connect to anything,” he waved his phone in my direction as though to prove there was no signal. From this distance, though, I couldn’t even tell what make the handset was! “You neither?”

I shook my head and held up my phone. Perhaps his eye-sight was better than mine? If not - at least it might make him realise how retarded his own gesture was.

“Don’t think we’re alone,” he said, nodding towards other drivers. “Who is your provider?”

“Vodafone,” I called out. “You?”

“O2. Just keeps saying they’re busy and to try again later.”

“Do you know what’s happened to cause all this?” I called out. Hopefully someone had come up and said something, or maybe he’d heard something on the local news channel. To save from shouting, I left my car and approached his.

“No idea - been sat here for forty minutes, or so,” he said - no longer shouting as I neared him. “Half tempted to leave my car here and walk in,” he continued.

“Not heard anything on the radio about it? Some kind of broadcast?”

He shook his head, “Been listening to a CD - didn’t even think about listening to local radio, to be honest.”

I looked up when I heard the sound of a car coming from the opposite direction. A female driver - I couldn’t help but think she might have known what was going on so I waved her down. To my surprise, and gratitude, she actually slowed to a stop and wound her window down so she could talk to us.

“I don’t suppose you know what’s happened to cause all this?” the stranger, who was standing with me, asked the lady in the car - despite it being me who had flagged her down.

I strained to hear her, “The police have blocked the road off, a little way down. They’re not saying what is happening and giving no indication as to when they’re unblocking the road so I just turned round. If I were you - I’d do the same. They don’t seem to know what they’re doing down there. Just seems to be a lot of confusion and angst,” she said. “Thought I’d try the back roads in,” she continued.

Would make sense, I thought - a thought I kept quiet about just in case anyone else heard me. If I was quick, I could get back to my car before any of the other stranded drivers decided to try and use the same tactics - although, deep down, I’m sure the roads would already be blocked anyway.

I left the man and woman talking and turned back to my own car. Hell, if I was really quick, I could even get in front of her to save getting stuck behind a woman driver.

I jumped in and started the engine with a quick twist of the key. A check of my rear-view mirror - nice to see, for once, that the car behind me hasn’t parked too close to my arse. Certainly enough room to reverse a little and swing the car around - a little move which I pulled off as quickly as I could and, just as planned, I was soon driving back the way from whence I came; a smile on my face as I had managed to get in front of the woman.

Smooth driving there, I thought.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself at the sight of all the cars which had joined the queue behind me. Poor bastards - I wonder how many of them will wait and see if the road clears before doing what I’m doing? Had it not been for that lady, in her car - I wonder how long I would have waited for come to think about it.

I hung a left and started my journey around the back roads. Same destination but usually a longer route because the roads go around the houses, so to speak. People still opt to come this way, though, believing it to be the quicker of the two main routes into town - fooled into that way of thinking by the fact they’re able to put their foot down as opposed to the potential of stop-start traffic jams.

With one eye on the road, I leaned down and switched to the local radio station. The jockey does my head in - some dick who loves the sound of his own voice too much - but I’m curious to know what’s happened in the town to cause such congestion. Must be something pretty major as I think that’s definitely the worst I’ve ever seen it.

A few more twists and turns, as I continued at pace, when suddenly I had to slow the car to a halt again at the sight of another traffic jam. Again - only my side of the road. The other side was completely clear of all traffic - not even the odd car, or bike.

“FUCK!” I yelled.

There was a group of people standing around one of the cars a little further down, all chatting. I decided to venture over to see if any of them knew what was happening in town and - more importantly - how long we’d have to be sitting there.

I climbed out of my car, after switching the engine off to save on fuel, and walked towards the group, “Hi,” I called out as I neared them.

“And another one has joined the line,” said one of the group; a young man - I’d say a few years younger than myself...Perhaps twenty nine? Going by the line of cars, I’d say he was the one who owned the BMW. He looked like a dickhead - one of the main traits of most male BMW drivers.

“That yours?” I asked as I passed the blue BMW.

The man nodded, “Why?”

“It’s nice,” I said - a smirk on my face. I changed the subject, “Anyone know what’s happening here?”

A woman chipped in, “Traffic jam.”

Ever useful, I thought.

Another woman piped in, “The gentleman here,” she signified a man standing next to her, “managed to call into his work place and they said they’re rioting in the city centre.”

“Rioting? What about?” I asked.

The man, who had managed to make the phone call, piped up, “Not sure - they just said that police were there trying to calm them down but everything was kicking off. They were watching it from the top of the tower block so didn’t see who started it...Just heard from someone who ran into the building and told them how crazy it was out there. Phone went dead and I haven’t been able to get anyone since.”

“None of us have been able to get through,” said the first lady who shall be forever known as “Little Miss Obvious”.

“There’s a road-block round the corner,” said the dickhead. “Police are just stopping everyone.”

“Yes, that’s what a road-block is usually used for,” I said. I don’t know what it is about this man that has rubbed me up the wrong way. Just, he has a really arrogant look about him. Probably nice as pie.

“Do you have a problem?” he asked - instantly squaring up to me.

“You mean other than running late for work - stuck in an endless line of traffic? No - I’m peachy....Well, I say that...I was in the shower, this morning, and...Well...I found a lump.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” the BMW driver was getting more agitated.

One of the other ladies was trying not to laugh, as was the other man but the third lady looked uncomfortable with the exchange which was taking place before her eyes.

“Look, I’m hot...I’m irritated...Fairly tired and stressed...Just ignore me,” I said, “I’m sorry.” An apology and a backing down because I’m the bigger man. I thank you. I turned back to the gentleman who had been successful with his call, “Where does your friend work?” I asked him.

“On the edge of town in the HSBC building - fairly close to the docks.”

“And you say they’re rioting?” I asked him to confirm what he had said - my heart in the back of my throat as I knew it wasn’t that far away from where my children went to school.

“That’s what my friend told me...”

“Anyone know what’s being said at the road-block?” I asked.

They shrugged.

One of the women said, “They’re just saying there has been an incident and they can’t let us go through.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled my phone out again. Maybe Emma didn’t get the kids to school - maybe she’s stuck in one of these traffic jams. I dialed her number, from the contacts section of the phone, and waited - despite knowing the chances of it actually connecting were slim to none.

“Anything?” asked the dickhead.

I shook my head. There’s not even a message, like there was earlier - just the strangely eerie sound of nothingness.

“Nothing,” I said. I hung up and slid the phone back into my pocket. I started to feel sick.

“What’s wrong?” asked the second female.

I looked back at my car. Already cars had queued up behind me. Still no vehicles were coming from the other direction. A quick thought flashed through my head - I could just jump in my car and speed past all of the traffic, down to where the road-block is. Explain to the officers on guard duty that my children are at school and I want to get them away from any potential violence.

“Are you okay?” the man asked. A genuine look of concern on his face. I couldn’t help but wonder whether that was because he was actually worried about me or because he could see my idea formulating in my see-through mind - an idea that, realistically, we both knew was a bad idea.

Fuck it, I thought.

I turned back to my car and rushed over to the driver’s side. I twisted the key, back in the ignition, as I jumped in and the engine coughed into life. The group was just watching me - expressions of confusion on their faces. None of them can have children - at least, none of them can have children who could potentially be close to any full scale riot, otherwise I’m sure they’d be doing the same as me.

Without any further hesitation I slammed my foot on the accelerator and pressed forward, on the opposite side of the road without a care in the world other than the safety of my children.

“It’s okay,” I told myself, “Emma probably didn’t even get them to the school anyway. They’re probably sat in the traffic jam - just a little further down from where I was earlier. She’s probably shouting at them to be quiet whilst the sun beats down upon the car causing them all to be grumpy. That’s it, I’m sure.”

Even so - better safe than sorry.

Cars, bikes, vans, lorries - all queued up to get into town. All irritated by the fact that I was overtaking them all, speeding down the other side of the road hoping, and praying, that I didn’t come into any oncoming traffic. A quick look into my rear-view mirror and I could see another car had decided to follow my course of action. I didn’t know whether this was out of desperation to get their own children or just because they were impatient with the unmoving stream of vehicles. I didn’t know and I didn’t care.

I turned the next corner and saw the road-block. A row of police cars - with their lights flashing - lined across the road making any passing an impossibility. One of the officers stepped forward, when he saw me, and started slowly waving his arms as though telling me to slow down. He didn’t need to tell me. It’s not as though there was much of a choice.

I slowed to a stop and the officer began to approach my car. I didn’t wait for him to get to me. Instead, I jumped out and ran over to him.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to get back in the car and turn around...” he said - a stern tone in his voice which should have been enough to tell me not to mess with him but - well - fuck him.

“My kids are in the town. I need to go and get them.”

“That’s not going to be possible yet. As you can see we’ve had to close...”

“I don’t give a shit about what you’re telling me,” I said, “I need to get to my kids. Someone, back there, said people were rioting near to where their school is...”

“I’m afraid we don’t know what is going on yet...”

“Well clearly you know something is wrong because you’ve blocked the fucking roads into the...”

“Sir...Please get back into your car and turn around. Unless you want me to book you for dangerous driving?” the officer’s voice seemed to sound sterner than before. Obviously well practiced at laying down the law. Still don’t give a shit.

Over the officer’s shoulder, I saw another officer approaching from behind his road-block.

“Hey, buddy, we’re all waiting here - get back in your car and get to the back of the queue,” some bloke called out from where he was standing next to his own car.

“Mind your own fucking business!” I shouted at him.

“What seems to be the problem here?” asked the second officer.

“There isn’t a problem,” his partner said. “This gentleman was just getting back into his car and turning around,” he continued.

“Like fuck I was. Your partner here was just about to move one of the cars so I could go through and get my children.”

I’m not sure when the roaring noise started, from somewhere above us. I didn’t register it straight away. I was more concerned about arguing with the two policemen as to whether they should, or shouldn’t let me go through. Apparently there was a problem in town and the whole area had to be contained. Neither of them would say what it was. At least, I don’t think either of them were telling me the whole story. It was hard to tell over the roaring which was impossible to ignore now - along with the screaming of the people who were waiting for the incident to pass and the traffic to begin flowing again.

I looked up, following the alarmed gaze of the two police officers, and my mouth dropped open as a large plane flew about a hundred or so feet above our heads, one of the wings tilted towards the ground in a way which meant it would have been impossible for it to correct itself at this late stage. The roar of the engines was deafening and you couldn’t help but to put your hands over your ears to try and protect them.

I watched as the plane disappeared behind a row of houses a little further down the road. I watched as people ran for cover - all frantic to get away. Arms flailing around in blind panic. Their mouths wide open - obviously screaming - not that you could hear and then...The loudest bang you could ever imagine followed by a fireball which shot up into the atmosphere with a plume of thick, black smoke, along with pieces of debris which scattered in all directions - one very large piece of, I don’t know what, crushing one of the police cars in the process.

“GET BACK TO YOUR CAR!” one of the officers screamed at me as he ran in the direction of the plane crash. For what I don’t know - nothing could have survived that. If there were people on board, and by the size of the plane I’m guessing there were, they’d be dead for sure. The other police officer followed.

I looked around, dazed after what I had witnessed. My ears ringing from the explosion and the previous din of the engine. Despite the ringing, I could hear the people screaming now. Some were just screaming, others screaming for help. Most of the officers had run in the direction of the crash to see if they could help, to see if there was anything they could do. Only a couple had remained behind at their cars - what was left of them - screaming for the civilians, such as myself, to get back.

What the hell is going on?

A fight broke out, between an officer and someone with a cut on their face. Where they got the cut from, I don’t know. Perhaps hit by a piece of shrapnel from somewhere? It looked as though the person with the cut was trying to get past when the police officer stopped him. Tempers high and stress levels rising - I’m not sure who threw the first punch but it wasn’t long before a couple of the other officers joined in to try and restore what little peace they could before other civilians joined in as well. I took the opportunity to make a run for it - leaving my car with the door open and engine running. I’m more concerned about getting to my children, right now, then whether some lowlife seizes the opportunity to steal my car. Besides, it’s a company vehicle. Fuck them.

I darted down an alleyway to the right of me. With the police distracted, by the chaos and carnage, it wasn’t hard to slip down there unnoticed. Slip down the alleyway and go over the fences and bushes to sneak on by. A simple plan, I thought.

I climbed the first wall I came across; someone’s garden. Perched on the top of it I was shocked to see the destruction the plane had caused. I could see the wreckage, a few gardens away where the plane had dropped from the sky. It had completely obliterated at least one house - in fact, had it not been for the fact that I knew what was standing there before the impact, you’d never have guessed a house had ever been there. The gardens were also destroyed. Even the garden which I was about to drop into had little fires dotted around caused by leaking jet engine fuel and, I’m guessing, some sparks on the dry leaves. The sheer scale of the destruction, knowing that I couldn’t see it all, sent a shiver down my spine despite the blazing heat of the morning sun. How far did this wreck go on for? I...We had come so close to dying. And speaking of dying, bodies are lying in the garden. I’m unsure as to whether they were thrown from the wreckage, on impact, or if they were the people who lived here - out in the garden having decided not to go anywhere due to the road block in the street. Or maybe they had been kept inside, not allowed to leave, for their own safety. The irony.

As I lowered myself down into the garden I wondered whether I’d even be able to get past using this route. Unsurprisingly the first garden was fairly easy to navigate my way across and I was soon standing by the next wall. A quick glance over the top and I could already see the next one, although not impossible, was going to be a little trickier.

I pulled myself onto the wall, thanking God for keeping me so skinny making my task easier than it might have been, and tried not to gag on the stench of burning fuel as I lowered myself down the other side. A quick survey of the garden; more broken pieces of the aircraft. No idea what they are, or what they were when they were complete - at least, other than the fact they’re from a plane. Debris and limbs. At least it must have been quick for them.

A brief moment of terror and then eternal nothingness.

As I carefully navigated my way to the next garden wall, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going wrong with the world today. Riots in the city centre and a plane dropping from the sky within a few miles of each other. Something big must have happened during the night to be the cause. Trust me to sleep through it. Whatever it was.

A noise, from the rubble on the opposite side of the garden distracted my rather confused thought processes. I looked over to see what the commotion was and was shocked to see a hand emerge. It was blackened, my doubt caused by the smoke, and looked to be covered in blood. Seconds later I saw the rest of the person it was attached to. A young man, with short black hair. He looked battered and bruised, unsurprisingly. If it weren’t for the fact he was moving from the wreckage, coming towards me, and groaning - you could have easily mistaken him for someone already dead.

I noticed his arm was twisted at an angle which could have only meant it was broken. And, looking at it, not just in one place either. No wonder his facial expression was one of pain.

He raised his hands towards me, as he staggered forward, and continued to groan - probably trying to talk to me but unable to, perhaps due to a broken jaw.

I backed away. I know I shouldn’t but I can’t get involved with this mess here. Not whilst my kids are in potential danger.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I can’t help you.”

He ignored my words and continued to stagger forwards - a look of desperation in his eyes . His eyes which seemed to be getting blacker and blacker with each passing second as though something were bleeding blackness underneath.

I turned back in the direction of the traffic jam, and chaos, and shouted out as loud as I could, “There’s a survivor over here!” I screamed. I doubt anyone would have heard my shout, what with all the noise coming from all around - the sound metal breaking off metal as the plane continued to disintegrate from the impact, the sound of people screaming, the sound of sirens and other people shouting too. It didn’t matter though - going from the looks of this survivor, he was already dead. He just didn’t know it yet.

“Someone will be here shortly,” I tried to reassure him, “I’m sorry but - I can’t...”

I didn’t wait to hear another groan from him. I about turned and ran towards the wall I had just climbed. Go back the way I had come and try a different route - it’s obvious now that I won’t be making much progress if I continue along the same path. Never mind the fact that I’m sure it will be almost impossible to pass the rest of the wreckage - due to not only the large amount of debris but also the intense heat coming from different bits of it. Go back and try another route. Without looking back, I pulled myself back over the wall and this time I opted for the wall at the end of the garden - perhaps go down a few streets and then try and cut across. Would the wreckage have spread out that far? I don’t know. Only one way to find out, though. Again, I’ll stick to using gardens as there was less chance of coming across another road-block. Harder to run from them compared to running from people who are just asking for help.

* * * * *

Although a longer route, it was a wise move to head away from the site of the crash. Never mind the fact that it was a horrible thing to behold, it was nice to get the smell of death and jet engine fuel from my senses. I just wish I could lose the image of that young man as easily - a sight which I’m worried will haunt me forever, along with the sound of the noises that were coming from his throat.

Come on, don’t think about him. Concentrate on the children. The chances are, he’s probably dead now. It wouldn’t have made a blind bit of difference had you stayed or not. I’m not trained in First Aid. There was nothing I could do for him. And, it wasn’t cowardly to walk away. No. It wasn’t. It was the smart thing to do. At least - the best thing to do as a father. Why waste time on someone who was already dead when my children could be hiding somewhere, petrified about what was happening around them? I did the right thing. I know I did. I’m sure I did.

I shook my head, in the hope it would help me to forget what I had seen. If only it were that simple. Scratch that. If only I could start the day again. Be back at home. If I could - I’d have told my kids that they could have the day off. I’d have called in sick for Emma and myself. We’d have had a nice family day together.

I joined back onto the main road by stumbling from the last garden I had made my way across. After such a long walk, it isn’t much further now. Thank God - I need to get out of this heat. A short walk down the hill and I’d be within a stone’s throw of the city. My feet are aching, sure to be covered in blisters, but I don’t care about that now. Not now I’m so close.

I stopped dead when I realised what I was seeing further down the road. As though my brain hadn’t been able to process the sight. Across the way - coming from various city tower blocks - I could see yet more thick, black smoke billowing into the once clear blue sky.

What the fuck is happening down there?

I had stopped walking so the sound of my footsteps on the hard concrete were no longer stopping me from hearing the horrors coming from within the city. At least I presume it was from the city. The sound of multiple gunfire and the occasional explosion.

I couldn’t help but think of my two children and what must be going through their minds. With luck, they wouldn’t have even made it past the road-block but I need to be sure. I need to get to the school to see for myself. In hindsight, it would have probably been better to run the length of the first traffic jam - the route Emma would have undoubtedly taken. After all, I might have ended up spotting them in the jam but...Well...That’s hindsight for you. It’s too late to think that now and I’ve come this far so I may as well push forward and try and get to the school, despite my own fears that were surging through my veins.

A car suddenly appeared on the horizon of the road I was walking down. The first moving car I had seen since starting the walk into town. I jumped into the centre of the road and waved it down. At first, with the speed it was going, I didn’t think it was going to stop. If anything it looked as though the driver, from this distance, was more determined to simply drive through me. Foolishly I stood my ground and the car screeched to a halt.

An army officer jumped out of the passenger seat, “Get in!” he screamed.

I could see the driver was also in an army uniform too. Two more people, in the back of the car, were dressed in normal every day clothes - both of them looked petrified.

“Please,” I said, “can you take me back into the town? I need to get to my kids.”

“You want to go back to town? Are you fucking crazy?” the officer shouted. “Get in the car - quick! There’s a camp - in the country - where we’re taking the survivors.”

“Survivors? What the hell is going on? I was told people were rioting.”

“It’s the end of the world, the end of the fucking world!” he said. He banged on the roof the car, “Come on - we have room for one more. Get in!”

I couldn’t help but think he was being a bit melodramatic and laughed it off.

“I can’t get in - I told you - I need to get into the town. My kids could be there...”

“Trust me - if they are - they’re already dead. I’m sorry but there’s nothing you can do.”

Another explosion lit up the darkening sky. The officer turned his head back in the direction of the city, “Come on - get in - I’m not even kidding...That one sounded close.”

Part of me wanted to get into the car and find out what was going but my paternal instinct was working in overdrive.

“Look, I can’t come with you. My kids could be in trouble...”

The driver got out of the car, “What’s the problem here? Get in the fucking car! Let’s move!”

“I’m not coming,” I ran around to his side of the car to try and talk him into taking me back to the city as another explosion tore through the sky and more smoke whirled its way into the skies. “My kids are in there somewhere - their mother took them to the school this morning...”

“He said,” the driver explained, “if they’re in town still - they’re dead. Look, we’ve been ferrying people all day. If they were in the school then chances are they’re on one of the transport coaches back to camp. Your best bet is to come with us back there and check the registers...”

“And if they’re not back there and they’re still alive...Come on - what’s happening down there...What’s the radio saying now?”

“It’s gone off air - come on, we need to get going. It’s coming this way. We aren’t safe..”

“From what?!” I shouted as I felt my blood pressure go through the roof. I span around to see the other officer, the one who had been in the passenger seat, come up behind me.

“Look you need to come with us. You go down there - into the city - and you’re dead. Either they get you or you get caught in the crossfire. But, either way, you will die. Now get in the fucking car!” he shouted.

I went to argue with him - to tell him that, no matter what he said, I was going to continue into the town and take my chances but instead...

B L A C K N E S S

D A Y    T W O

D i s c o v e r i e s

My two girls, Rebecca and Hannah, were tucked up in their beds. I was sitting on the end of Hannah’s bed. The younger of the two girls but only by about five minutes. Yesterday I had sat on the edge of Rebecca’s bed, to tell them their bedtime story, as I liked to keep things fair by alternating between the two of them.

Rebecca had pulled her duvet up around her face - as though it was helping to keep her safe from the little nursery rhyme I was reciting to them, dug out from the depths of my memory from when my own mother had recited it to me when I was a youngster. Although - the more I think about the way she used to tell it...I’m sure she used to call the spider ‘Incy Wincy’ but, I have to say, I prefer ‘Itsy Bitsy’.

As I sang through the little rhyme I did the motions of the spider with my hands, “Itsy Bitsy spider climbing up the water spout, down came the rain and washed the spider out, out came the sun and dried up all the rain...Now Itsy Bitsy spider went up the spout again...” on the final word I quickly pounced forward over Rebecca and started tickling her, through the duvet, with my spider fingers. As per usual she screamed with laughter whilst Hannah told me to get her too.

Emma suddenly appeared in the bedroom doorway, “You’re supposed to be getting them to sleep,” she pointed out.

I looked at Rebecca, “Now look - you got me in trouble with your screaming...” I turned back to Emma, “Besides, it wasn’t me. It was Itsy Bitsy spider!”

“Oh good, passing your fears onto the children I see!”

“Fears? What fears? I’m not scared of anything...There’s just some things in the world that I simply don’t like. Spiders being one of them. Snakes, another.”

Emma crossed the bedroom floor and kissed Hannah on the cheek before giving Rebecca a kiss, “Come on, you two, time to go to sleep. And, you,” she said looking at me, “stop trying to give them nightmares!”

She walked back out of the room. As soon as her back was turned, I stuck my tongue out at her - causing more laughter from my two beautiful girls.

“You’re not scared, are you?” I asked them. They both shook their heads. My brave girls. Nothing scares them. “Mummy’s just stupid, isn’t she?” they both nodded their heads and laughed.

“I heard that,” Emma called from the other room.

“Uh oh - daddy’s in trouble now...If you hear me screaming during the night, girls, it’s just mummy beating daddy...And, if I’m not here in the morning, that’s what you tell the nice policeman, okay?” the girls laughed again. Sometimes I wonder whether I take jokes too far with them. Whether they shouldn’t be hearing some of what comes out of my mouth due to their young age - six years old now.

Six years - Jesus - where does the time go?

I can still remember visiting Emma and the girls in hospital on the day they were born. I can remember holding them in my arms for the first time. I had sat down on a chair, to make it easier, and a nurse put them in my arms - one in each arm so I didn’t have to choose who got the first cuddle. Now they’re in school. Tomorrow they’ll be in university and soon after that I’ll be an old man - looked after by my two beaming girls. Unless of course they put me in a home.

I best continue being nice to them. At least, that way, if they put me in a home - it will be a nice one as opposed to a cheap back-street care-home where they’d soon forget to visit me. Left to rot in a pile of dirty bedding.

“Right,” I said, “time to go to sleep,” I told them. “I love you both and will see you in the morning.”

I had never intended to lie to them. I had every intention of seeing them in the morning before I went to work but the shower incident, with the spider, had made me slower than usual in getting ready to go out.

Putting aside the fact that I lied to them - at least one of the last things they heard me tell them was that I loved them both. If I can’t find them, I’ll always have that memory.

I looked down at both of my girls in their beds. Their once smiling faces were frozen. Their eyes staring dead ahead. Their skin pale to the touch. Their beds were now their coffins.

I awoke with a start.

“How hard did you hit him?” I heard someone ask. My eyes had yet to focus on who said it.

“If we hadn’t made the call, he’d still be out there - probably dead. We saved his life,” said another bloke.

My eyes slowly adjusted to my surroundings.

“You saved his life by giving him concussion. That’s nice. Way to go,” the first person replied. I’m not sure who the person was, other than the fact he was a male dressed in civilian clothes compared to the man who was standing next to him dressed in army overalls - all puffed up as though he owned the joint.

I turned my head to the side to scope out my surroundings; some kind of over-sized tent with small camp beds, like the one I was laying on, lining the sides of it. A generator was in the corner of the tent with extension cords running off from it - some leading to lights which were dotted around the place, some to large air-conditioning units and others to smaller extension cords with small boxes plugged in which looked similar to air-fresheners you’d find in the supermarket. Something tells me, though, they’re not air-fresheners.

“Where am I?” I slurred my words as I continued to struggle coming around. The civilian turned to my aid whereas the army man took the opportunity to walk away from the grief he was getting.

“It’s okay,” said the man as he placed his hand on my chest, to stop me from trying to get up, “you’re safe here. Just rest up - idiots hit you pretty hard. My name is Henry. I’m a doctor.”

I could see clearly now.

“I was on the road - going to the town to find my children.”

“They told me,” said Henry.

“They told me the children would be dead if they were still in the town,” slowly I pushed myself into a sitting position.

Henry sat on the edge of the bed so we were level, “The army has been making runs backwards and forwards, looking for survivors but the city is over-run. I’m sorry to say but, unless the children are here - which is possible - then...The officer is most likely right. Look - wait here, there’s a register floating around. Everyone who comes here has their name put down so they can be reunited with their family if, like you, they’ve managed to get separated. Wait here - I’ll go and find it.”

I tried to thank him but didn’t find the words in time to utter them before he had walked from the tent. I took the opportunity for another look around - so far, I’m the only one in here. A good sign if this is supposed to be the medical bay. It must mean the army haven’t got anyone else back here by smacking them in the back of the head too. Assholes. No wonder they sometimes get a bad reputation amongst some folk.

Henry came back through the tent’s small opening, a pretty blonde haired lady was following him with a large file in her hands.

“This is Fiona,” Henry made the introductions. I nodded at her. It was hard to say that I was pleased to meet her, given the circumstances. “She’s responsible for listing the names of the people who are currently situated here.”

“Here,” I said, “where is here? Where are we?”

“Purpose built camp about twenty-five miles from the city. They must have known something was coming because, well - you’ll see for yourself, it doesn’t look as though it was set up overnight if you know what I mean. This all started off pretty quickly. There’s no way they could have found out what was happening, started pulling people out of the town, set up all the road-blocks and get this place set up in that small window of time. No way at all.”

“And what the hell is happening?” I asked. “Where are my children?”

Fiona took the opportunity to jump in to ask about my children, “What are their names?” she asked as she held up the folder. “I’ll see if they’re here.”

“Hannah and Rebecca,” I said.

“Surname?”

“Davies. Hannah and Rebecca Davies. Their mother’s name is Emma,” I said. If the children were here - then hopefully their mum would be with them. At least they’d be a little less scared - especially if they were pulled from the town by the same army men who had found me. Their people skills were definitely lacking and I’m sure they’d have no patience for two young girls. My blood boiled at the thought of my girls being mistreated by some jumped up twat in a uniform.

Fiona was flicking through the folder, heading for the letter D in the alphabet.

“Do they go to St Anne’s Catholic School?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Have you found them?”

“Not yet but - that’s where I was. This is my first term. We were pulled out of there pretty early this morning...”

I foolishly allowed myself a faint glimmer of hope. The fact this woman was from the same school as my children, and the sheer size of the folder in her hands...Were my children here somewhere?

She looked upset. She thumbed her way back a few pages, in the folder, and scanned the list of names again before closing it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “They’re not listed.”

“But if you’re here,” I pointed out, “then they must be. They must be around somewhere.”

“Maybe they hadn’t got to school? There’s a chance...”

I knew she was right but now it made me fear for their safety even more. The fact I couldn’t get hold of Emma, on the phone, and the fact that my children obviously hadn’t made it to the school - or else they’d have been taken from there to here along with everyone else.

I felt my eyes well up, despite my best effort not to allow myself the weakness of tears.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” said Fiona. She was trying to comfort me with her words but her tone and facial expression painted a different expression on what she was saying. So did Henry’s. She changed the subject briefly, “Can I take your first name for the register, please?”

“Ethan. Ethan Davies.”

“Thank you,” Fiona said as she made a note in the file.

“You’re safe here,” Henry said offering some form of comfort, “at least - for now - wait with us. The army is constantly making trips out for survivors, not just from the city either, but from surrounding areas. They may find them. If they do - they’ll be brought here.”

“Is your family here?” I asked.

“Yes,” Henry replied.

“And if they weren’t?” I asked him. He didn’t respond and, his lack of response, told me volumes. He wouldn’t hang around here either, on the off-chance his family was found. He’d be out there, looking for them. Hunting for them. For as long as it took. “What about you?” I asked Fiona.

“I don’t have any family down here,” she told me. She seemed quiet. “They’re closer to London. I moved down here for the job,” she said. She didn’t wait for me to ask the obvious question, “I don’t know how they are. I haven’t been able to get hold of them. The phone lines weren’t working in the city, and there’s no signal out here.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Henry said. “This - whatever it is - seems to have come from the docks.”

“And what the hell is this?” I butted in. “I keep asking and keep hearing the same shit about the end of the world. What the fuck is going on out there?”

“No one is saying for definite. From what I’ve seen - before I was brought here - it looks to be some sort of infection.”

“Infection?”

Henry nodded, “Nothing I’ve ever seen before. It spreads fast. It’s uncontrollable. Anyone that had it - in the city - they seemed to be going mad, running around and groaning, snarling even. Limbs all over the place as though they lacked the proper brain function to work them properly...Once they had the infection - the troops were just shooting them dead...”

“I have to get out of here,” I said. I jumped to my feet.

“And go where?” Henry asked. “There’s nowhere you can go that’s as safe as this.”

“I don’t care about my safety. You just told me that the army is out there shooting people. You really think they’re making good decisions as to who to shoot and who not to shoot? Or do you think they’re out there shooting anyone with the slightest hint of whatever shit  this is that you’re talking about? My children could be out there...”

“And if they are - they’re dead!” Henry shouted me down.

“Fuck you!” I shouted. “Stop fucking saying that!”

I wanted to swing for him. Punch him square on the jaw to ensure he’d not say anything like that again but, somehow, I managed to restrain myself.

“Fiona!” a voice bellowed from outside the tent. We all turned to the entrance in time to see an army officer walk in. “We have another coach showing up. Bring the folder!” he said in a stern voice as though, wearing the uniform, he had the right to talk to Fiona as though she were nothing more than a mere servant.

“Where’s this coach from?” I asked.

The army officer turned and left. Fiona hurried after him. Before she stepped from the tent, she turned to me and said, “They were taking people from the various traffic jams around the town. They said they’d rather have them here than have them in their homes, close to the city, giving the infection a chance to spread closer to us.” She didn’t wait for me to reply, she simply disappeared from the tent, closing the door behind her.

“Look - I’m sorry about what I said. I’m sorry about your children but, honestly, the best thing you can do is stay here with us and lend a hand. This place isn’t running itself and we need all the help we can get. Trust me - if your family is out there - they’ll be brought here. You’ve met Fiona. She knows you’re looking for them. Sure she will tell you if they arrive. What do you say?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. My head was banging from the unnecessary hit I had sustained and I couldn’t tell what the best thing to do was. Everything was a mess in my mind. If I did leave here - what if my family did suddenly roll in on one of the coaches they kept telling me about? There’d be no way for them to contact me and I’d be out there, searching for as long as I could - before whatever this infection is hit me too.

“Look, I’m going to go and help out with the new arrivals - just in case anyone needs my attention. Please - think about staying. Even if it’s only for a night. Then, in the morning, if you still want to leave - you can talk to the troops and find out what the situation is out there. They may even give you some supplies, although I wouldn’t hold your breath.” Henry didn’t wait to hear what my decision was and he left the room.

I sat back down on the bed wishing I’d wake up and find out this was all a dream brought about from eating something dodgy last night. I knew it wasn’t likely but I still couldn’t help but hope. I had an unpleasant feeling that these silly hopes had more chance of happening compared to me finding my family again. I suddenly realised what the others had been saying - that more people had arrived - and rushed from the tent to see if my family were amongst the new guests.

As soon as I stepped outside the tent I was instantly hit by the day’s heat. I had gotten so used to the air-conditioned room that I had forgotten about the unpleasantness of the heat outside. I was also shocked to see more large tents as far as the eye could see, all crammed into what appeared to be a couple of big fields in the country-side. I’m not sure where we are. There was nothing around to help me mentally pin-point our location. No landmarks. Just fields and trees in the distance.

I saw in the distance just past a row of tents that a large coach had pulled up into the campsite. People of all different genders, ages, shapes and sizes were disembarking - looking slightly concerned with their current predicament.  I must say that no sooner had their feet touched the ground then they were directed to a check-in point where they could give their names to the waiting team of, I guess, data input clerks.

I hurried over and started to call for my family only to be pushed back by one of the army officers without so much of a word. I wanted to push him right back but I realised, for once, he was in the right. I needed to give the disembarking people room to get off the bus and it’s not as though Hannah, Rebecca and Emma were going to get off any faster with me pushing people back into the coach so I could climb aboard.

Nervously I paced with anticipation as I waited to see if they were onboard. After a number of people stepped off an army officer emerged and closed the door behind him.

“What? Is that it? No one else?”

I went to move closer, to get a look into the coach. Maybe there were more people in the back but they weren’t allowed to get off yet - not until the data inputters had a chance to fill in the details of the masses of people crowding them already.

“Step back please, sir!” the army officer pushed me back.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I hissed. “I just want to know if that’s it...”

“It’s empty. There’s no more!” he snapped back in a tone of voice which suggested I backed down immediately or faced the consequences.

“What about another coach? Is there one behind you?”

The army officer walked past me and spoke to another military man who had come along to oversee the arrival of the new campsite members, “That’s it,” he told him, “there’s no more. We’ve lost the road-block...We grabbed who we could and fled. We can’t go back.”

“It’s faster than we first thought,” the other man said.

“What do you mean? Lost the road-block? Please tell me what’s happening...” I said.

“Get back, sir. I won’t tell you again...”

Fiona caught my eye by giving me a little wave. She signalled towards the book of names and solemnly shook her head - as though trying to tell me my children, and wife, weren’t present amongst the new names. At first I wanted to thank her for pointing out the obvious but, I figured, there could have been a chance they had slipped past me unnoticed - albeit a very slim chance for I was looking in every direction possible so as not to miss anyone.

I heard a fight break out between the group of new arrivals. Someone was shouting at one of the army men, I turned to look so I could see what all the fuss was about.

“You did this, didn’t you? It’s something you’ve done! What is it? What the fuck is it?” shouted the young, dark haired man. He was so angry his face was red. I thought he was going to explode. Some of the other new arrivals were holding him back. Probably just as well too. He looked as though he had murder on his mind.

The army men were looking around anxiously. Perhaps expecting more people to come forward and start kicking off too. Some of them had their hands on the grips of their weapons - I’m not sure if this was supposed to be a show of force or for their own peace of mind. I have a horrible feeling it’s more to do with a show of force. After all, they were quick to put me in my place when I first ran into them.

The man either didn’t notice, or he didn’t care. He continued to wrestle against the people holding him back. Part of me, the darker side, wanted him to break free and smack the man he was addressing, who was just standing there with a look on his face which suggested he didn’t care.

“My family are dead!” the man screamed. “What the fuck are they?” he continued.

A couple of other people stepped forward to fight his case with him. They weren’t as angry but you could tell the air was thick with tension.

“We deserve answers,” they said. “What we saw - that’s not normal...”

I tried to move closer but was pushed back by the uniformed prick in front of me who ordered me to, “Move along.”

I shot him a stern look. I wasn’t going anywhere. The military was being blamed for something, something which could have taken my family, and I wanted to know what the hell it was. Especially if I was to be leaving camp, like I planned.

Fiona appeared by my side and stood between the officer and myself, “He’s fine,” she said, “he’s with me.”

The look on the officer’s face suggested he didn’t care but I ignored him, turning my attention back to the argument between the small group of people and the military.

“It’s classified,” was all they kept saying.

“What have they done?” I asked Fiona, on the off-chance she knew more than she was letting on. “What’s happening out there? Did they make something in a lab - some kind of infection? Is that what’s happening? It’s leaked into the atmosphere?”

“It’s fucking spiders,” someone shouted across to me, from the group of new arrivals.

“Spiders?” someone else repeated from somewhere out of my line of sight.

The military troops started to look apprehensive - as though they had had their dirty little secret aired in public. Some of them started to slowly move away from the crowds of civilians whilst others braced themselves for, I presume, a sudden onslaught of questions and possible anger.

“Okay,” I said loudly, “can someone please tell me what the hell is happening out there?”

It felt as though I was constantly repeating myself - the same question again and again trying to get to the bottom of what was actually happening out there. Before I got the answer I was looking for, though, someone shouted from near the bus.

“SOMETHING BIT ME!”

Everyone turned to see who had screamed out so loudly. It was one of the army men. He was holding his ankle - I’m guessing the point of the bite - and he looked like he was panicking.

Whilst people moved away from him - some even going as far as to run like their lives depended on it - I tried to get closer to see if I could offer some assistance. Everything else happened in the blink of an eye.

Fiona grabbed my arm and stopped me from approaching the man.

Another squad member dashed forward with a large flame-thrower in his arms - a fuel canister attached to his back. Without any hesitation, and ignoring the screams of the bitten man, he unleashed a string of fire onto the poor bastard.

People were screaming and running. I just stood there. My mouth was wide open as I witnessed the horrors of the sight and smell of the man’s flesh getting burnt to a crisp by the relentless flaming. The man, black now, dropped to the floor. He wasn’t moving but the attacker continued to flame him to a crisp. The stench of burning flesh filled the air.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I screamed when the man stopped firing.

He turned to me with tears in his eyes, “I didn’t have a choice!” he screamed. “He would have hatched!”

I looked around in dismay. More army men were running over with large fuel tanks on their backs. Some of them simply carried assault rifles with them. All of them, though, looked as though they meant business.

“Come on,” said Fiona. She tugged at my arm and pulled me away from the horrific scene.

I didn’t put up any resistance. Even I knew when it was time to move. Especially considering everyone is so trigger happy around here.

Fiona pulled me into the first tent we came across, “What the man said - he was right...Whatever is happening out there - it’s all to do with spiders!” she said. “They’re not like anything I’ve seen. They’re shiny, hard-backed...Black. Jet black. So many of them - all together, running around taking over everything. They were biting people and the people they bit...” she looked pale.

“What about the people they bit?”

“They looked to be in pain...Groaning...The looks on their faces...Not long after more spiders came out of their bodies - as though hatching from within.”

“What? How’s that even fucking possible?”

She shook her head, “I don’t know. It’s not.”

“And the people, out there, think it was something to do with the military? What - some kind of experiment? We don’t even have military labs around here...There’s not even a base here.”

“I don’t know - it’s just what people were saying - you heard them too!”

I paused.

There was no other explanation. At least - no other explanation as likely as the military one. If the spiders were biting people and hatching more spiders from the bite - I’m sure we would have heard about them before today. Maybe not from this country but from whatever country they first came from. And just because I wasn’t aware of any military bases around this area - I mean other than this make-shift one...It didn’t mean they didn’t exist. The more I thought about it - the more I felt it entirely possible that these things could have been designed in some lab. Perhaps an accidental breach let them into the outside world? At least, knowing that the army had something to do with what was happening explained how they were able to set up this camp so quickly.

Fiona started to cry.

“What is it?” I asked, almost afraid of what the answer could be.

“When they picked us up from the school - the spiders were already there...They bit some of the children. They’re just kids. They must have been so scared.”

I wasn’t sure if she realised what she was saying. I wasn’t thinking of the children that had been bitten. I was thinking of my own kids - and my wife. It’s hard to put a stranger, even a child stranger, ahead of your own family.

“Look I can’t stay here,” I said, ignoring her tears as best as I could. I felt there was no point trying to offer words of comfort. “It’s not safe. It’s just a matter of time before people kick off again and you saw how quickly that soldier was prepared to use his weapon on one of his own because, potentially, there was a spider here already. This place is dangerous, the people are dangerous...First opportunity I get, I’m taking whatever vehicle I can find and I’m getting out of here.”

“But where will you go? What will you do?”

I shrugged, “Go home? Maybe my house isn’t infested yet. The city was infested, sure, but - when I left home - there was no sign of trouble. I could go there, barricade things up. If my family are still alive, and I realise it’s a big if, then I’m sure they’d go there and wait for me...”

“I overheard some soldiers talking about a plan to fix things - something coming from the main base to put things right. Maybe it is best just to wait here?”

I shook my head, “I’m telling you - it’s a ticking time bomb here. There’s trouble waiting to happen. Look, come with me. We’ll hole up at mine. If a plan is coming, we won’t be there for very long. If nothing comes - as soon as we’re ready we can raid my house for supplies and just drive up north towards one of the main airports. We had only just done the shopping so there’s food there, at least. Grab that and then see if we can catch a flight out of here...”

“What about your family?”

“Like I said - if they’re alive, they’d have gone back home. I’m sure of it. If they aren’t there...Well, they aren’t here so I’ll have to presume the worst case scenario...” I said, not that I wanted to believe in the worst case scenario. “You don’t have to come with me but...I don’t think you’re as safe as you think you are here.”

I could see it on her face - she didn’t think she was safe here already. Something tells me she had had those feelings long before she had a run in with me too. Perhaps, being closer to the troops, she had heard and seen more than she should have, or would have, if they hadn’t employed her to keep the books so to speak.

“You know what they did to get you here in the first place,” Fiona pointed out. How could I forget? My head was still banging from the hit I sustained during my first friendly encounter with the soldiers. She continued, “I doubt they’d let you just walk out of the camp.”

“Then I won’t tell them. I’ll wait until nightfall and sneak out. They can’t keep me here.” I realised I was putting a lot of trust in this woman that I hardly knew. Just because she worked at the school where my children go, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t have informed the officers what I was planning on doing at the first possible opportunity. I don’t know why I trusted her so much. Just something about her, I guess.

“It’s a long walk back to the city,” she said, “we’d need transport.”

“You’ll come?”

She nodded, “Like you said - here doesn’t feel as safe as it should. At least, out there, I know what I’m looking out for.” She paused a second, “I can get us some transport,” she said.

“How?”

“There’s a tent where the soldiers store everything; food, water, equipment. I noticed keys hanging on a post...”

“It’s too dangerous,” I said. “We can just walk.”

“Through the woods and countryside? If the spiders have come this far...”

“And if you’re caught trying to take keys from what is effectively a military base camp...”

“It’s our one shot,” she pointed out.

“Then I’ll do it.”

“You won’t even be allowed in the tent. Being a volunteer, I can at least say I’m getting the register from inside.”

“I....”

She interrupted me, “It’s fine. I do this, you take me with you. Deal?”

Reluctantly I agreed. I knew it was more or less suicide leaving here without a vehicle. This was our best shot. I just didn’t like the idea of sending her into what was technically a lion’s den.

“Well,” she said, “wish me luck.”

She walked towards the tent’s doorway.

“Luck!” I said.

She took a few deep breaths and stepped from the tent.

All I could do was wait.

She had only just stepped out of the tent but, straight away, my mind couldn’t help but think she had already been sussed out and was being dragged in front of whoever was in charge of this hell-hole. With the country going to shit only a few miles away from us would the normal rules apply with regards to laws or would they simply shoot her for her actions? Perhaps citing it as treason or some bullshit like that? More to the point would she give me up if she is caught? Shit.

I shouldn’t have let her go. I should have done it. I should have found a way in for myself. Or even just said ‘fuck it’ and gone without a vehicle. They couldn’t have done anything then. They’d have probably just thought of me as a suicidal man and let me go before I put any of their lives at risk. Damn it. I need to get her back.

I stepped out of the tent, straight into the heat of the day, and looked from left to right. Desperately trying to see which direction she had gone in. Can’t see her, though. Damn! Damn! Damn! I guess all I can do is wait. Perhaps listen out for a scream or raised voices coming from the soldiers who discover her. Man, my heart is in the back of my throat.

Feel like I’m going to have a fucking heart attack.

By running late, getting ready for work, and letting my wife do the school run. I potentially sent my family to their deaths. And here I am again, potentially sending someone else to her death. If not her death - then at least some hard questioning and perhaps a lifetime behind bars when order is restored. Perhaps I should just stop talking to people. Let them make their own decisions and live their own lives.

No, I’m not taking the blame for this. I told her I didn’t want her to go. I told her that I’d find a way to do it. She didn’t give me a choice. This, if she is caught, is down to her now. I can’t take the blame for it and I won’t.

Looking around, I still couldn’t tell where she was. I should have gone with her when she left. Should have, at least, watched where she went. Hell, I could have run in after her - if she were to be caught. She said there was equipment in there so there may have been weapons too. We could have blasted our way out. Jesus, what am I talking about? I’m not exactly Rambo.

Then, just as quickly as she had disappeared, she came back into sight with what appeared to be a triumphant smile on her face.

“Well?” I asked when she got close enough for me to whisper, just in case anyone heard us. She nodded and I couldn’t help but smile. The first bit of good news since this shitty day started - not that we’re out of the woods yet, both figuratively and literally speaking. We’d have to find out which vehicle the keys belonged to next and, more to the point, do it without raising any suspicions. My fleeting moment of hope seemingly crushed in the stark realities of what we had yet to achieve.

“So now what?” she asked, a glimmer of hope in her bright eyes - unless it was the reflection of the brilliant sunshine. If it were hope, she obviously hadn’t realised we’d need to track the vehicle down and get it away before anyone had a chance to stop us. Again, given the situation, I’m not entirely sure what our punishment would be if we were to be discovered.

I took a deep breath, “Well we need to find out which vehicle the key belongs to. With any luck, wherever the vehicle is, it isn’t blocked in by other cars or lorries...”

The light disappeared from her eyes. There are no clouds in the sky so clearly it was her hope that I had earlier seen.

“It’ll be fine,” I lied. ‘But, for now, we can’t do anything. Not whilst it’s light...”

“So - what? We just pretend everything is fine and carry on as usual?”

I nodded, “That’s exactly it. You do whatever they want of you and I’ll just try and blend in with the rest of the civilians...You think you can do that?”

“And what if it all kicks off in the meantime?”

“Then we’ll have a quick change of plan. When the sun goes down - meet me here. Okay?”

She nodded. I smiled at her. It was supposed to be a reassuring smile but I’m pretty sure it didn’t have the desired effect. She smiled back. If my smile missed the mark - hers definitely did.

D A Y    T W O

R e u n i o n s

That afternoon, whilst waiting for night to fall and darkness to help with my escape from the camp, I made myself known to a young looking soldier who was walking around giving his best impression of someone who knew what they were doing. I had informed him that I was new to the campsite and that I had no idea where I was supposed to go - or what I was supposed to be doing.

Considering the run in that I had had with the car full of soldiers, and the experience with the troops when the next coach load of people came in, I have to say that he seemed decent enough. Conversation didn’t help him, though. It only let me know how nervous he actually was and - more importantly - how his lack of experience meant he was completely ill-equipped, mentally, for what was happening to everyone.

Regardless, he showed me to a large tent which was probably the length of two of my houses linked together - but not as tall. Inside were rows and rows of beds and, thankfully, more air-conditioning units to try and keep the people cool. And people...As for them - there were possibly hundreds of them crammed in here. Some of them crying, some of them trying to comfort the ones who were upset and others who were simply getting on with their own lives as best as they could by having conversations with their family members and, I presume, friends. I wonder, were they friends before they got here or did they make the best out of a bad situation and grow to know these people through conversations?

Just as long as people keep themselves to themselves. I’m not here for conversation as I’m not here for much longer than a few hours, if all goes as planned.

The soldier left me to my own devices, more or less straight away as soon as he showed me the tent. I made my way along the line of beds until I found what I thought to be an empty one.

“Is this bed taken?” I asked someone on the next bed.

“I don’t think so,” they said. Words which I took to mean, “No - it’s yours if you want it.”

I laid down on the bed and tried to get comfortable. Easier said than done for I’ve never been a fan of camping beds. I find them uncomfortable and I’m too long to fit on them properly - which is another problem I find irritating. I miss my bed at home and this just goes to prove that going home is definitely the best course of action.

It’s not long before my mind wanders to my home; my family to be more specific.

All the times I’ve had conversations with Emma where she’d tell me how much she loved me. I always cringed at such conversations. For some reason, they always made me feel uncomfortable and I preferred to stay away from them. Move on to safer territory - something that I was happy to discuss. Something that wasn’t to do with my feelings.

“I love you,” she’d tell me.

“Quite right too,” I would often reply, quickly followed up by asking what was for dinner. All because I have a problem with saying the words back. It’s weird and I don’t understand why - especially given the fact that I know I love her too. More than she could ever know. It’s just the words I have a problem with. Especially when they’re said often. It’s as though, by repeating them again and again, they feel cheap and meaningless.

“I love you,” she’d say.

“I know,” I’d reply.

Damn words haunting me now. I’d give anything to be able to turn the clock back to tell her what I truly felt. I always thought she knew. She knew how I really felt but now she isn’t here...Now I’m not actually able to tell her, face to face, I can’t help but wonder whether she really knew it? I should have said the damned words more often.

I felt my eyes start to well up and closed them tightly.

I won’t allow myself to cry.

Not here.

Not in front of all these strangers.

The last thing I need is one of them coming over to try and save me with words of supposed comfort and meaning when all I want is to remember my family.

At least I told the children that I loved them. I didn’t say it all the time, mind you. But I know I said it enough for them to know it’s how I felt. I didn’t just presume they instantly knew like I did with my wife. Or, like I thought - and hope - my wife did.

Fuck it, I should have been a better husband. A better, more compassionate, human. I’m not sure why I turned out the way I did - lacking the ability to show my emotions like others show theirs. I regret it, though, whatever it was that caused this in me.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?” asked the stranger on the next bed. “I didn’t feed the cat this morning. She’ll be hungry.”

I could tell by the young woman’s tone of voice that she wasn’t really looking for an answer to her question. She already knew that we’d be here for a fair amount of time - at least, she’d be here for a fair amount of time. If anything, it sounded more like she wanted me to reassure her that everything was going to be okay and that her cat was, and still is, fine. A tone of voice which urged me to lie.

I thought back to my wife. Even though I didn’t believe in the words, I should have told her that I loved her. I should have said them - no matter whether I had just said them earlier in the day. Words that are said too much and yet not enough. And my thoughts returned to this woman who was lying, close-by, urging me for a similar declaration - not of ‘love’ but of ‘comfort’. I didn’t believe we’d be okay. I didn’t believe the cat was okay. Hell, it was probably already dead. Killed by spiders or over-zealous soldiers with guns and flame-throwers. The cat would be dead, for sure.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I lied. It felt weird offering her the comfort that I didn’t believe in but, at the same time, it felt good too. “The cat’s probably tucked up, under a bush, sleeping through it all,” I continued to lie.

“You think?” she asked.

“Sure,” I nodded. I looked at her and smiled. She smiled too. I could tell, by the expression on her face, that she knew I was lying and yet - the same expression seemed to tell me that it was okay. Not only was it okay but she also appreciated it.

I rolled back over onto my back and heard her do the same.

“Thank you,” she said; loud enough for me to hear but not so loud to suggest she might expect an answer from me.

If only I had answered my wife with what she had always wanted to hear as opposed to what I thought was a clever answer used to save me from having to show actual emotions. Perhaps then, when I closed my eyes and pictured her beautiful face, I could envision a look of comfort upon it.

“I love you,” I whispered. Not to the young woman who was by my side but to the image of my wife which seemed stuck to the backs of my eye-lids whenever I closed them. “So much.”

I tried to concentrate on what I had said to the stranger; my little white lie on how everything was going to be okay. If she was happy to believe it, there is no reason as to why I shouldn’t too.

Everything will be okay.

I’ll find my family.

I’ll cuddle my children and I’ll tell my wife, daily, how much I love her. And - what’s more - I’ll mean it every time I say it too...

I started to get upset again. Not because of the thoughts about my family and regrets I have with regards to things spoken and unspoken but rather thoughts about the kind of person I’ve let the years twist me into. A cynical asshole who puts his own needs before the needs of others. Why I’m thinking like this - now that it is too late to change anything - is beyond me and I wish I could put the thoughts far from my mind but I really have been a bastard. A bastard to both people I care about and people I don’t really know. And for what reason? It never made me feel good? Other people didn’t appreciate my comments, and obscure thoughts, which they sometimes found to be hurtful or unwarranted and yet I couldn’t help myself.

Jesus, I feel like I’m having some kind of Ebenezer Scrooge moment. Whereas he had ghosts showing him the error of his ways, I’ve got fucking spiders. I wonder, though, whether I’ll have a second chance to change, like he did? Another opportunity to put things right that I’ve so far failed with? I hope so...

My mind jumped back to the thought of spiders. Seriously - what were the military thinking? What kind of fucked up scheme were they trying to devise which could possibly warrant the need for creating spiders which have the potential to cause so much destruction? What - did they want to box them up, in little crates, and drop them in the Middle East? In what world could anyone ever think this was going to be a decent plan? I shook my head. It can’t be. It isn’t and no one would have thought it to be a good one. They couldn’t have. But if that was the case - how could they have gone ahead with it?

The more I thought about it, which was a welcome relief to regretful thoughts centered around my family, the more I realised it couldn’t have been a military experiment organised by government officials. It didn’t make sense. But if that was the case - where the hell did they come from? We live close to the sea - maybe they came here, on a boat? Or the plane that came down? Maybe they came in on a plane and were already at the airport in the next town? They had managed to get there and were already attacking our town?

No.

That can’t be it either.

If they came in on a plane - then surely something would have happened onboard, before the plane even got close to the country, to bring it down? After all - the plane that I witnessed come down...That had only just taken off so it would make sense that it would have the same effect with any other plane too. And that makes me think of another worrying factor; I’m sure they fumigated planes before they take off and when they land too- an act done to kill any unwanted insects, and other creatures. How would the spider survive? Are they immune?

I felt the hairs, on the back of my neck, rise.

Why’d it have to be spiders? They’re creepy to look at. They move so quickly and silently - seemingly appearing out of nowhere and disappearing again before you can catch them. Truly the stuff of nightmares.

Great, now they’re stuck in my mind.

I’d sooner have the regretful thoughts about how I failed my family back in my head again.

* * * * *

The remaining hours of light seemed to drag on forever. Probably not helped by the fact that it was light until quite late during the summer months. Usually a fact I came to appreciate as it meant I had time to enjoy what felt like a bit of the day when I got in from a crappy day in the office. Now, though, when I want the darkness - it’s nothing more than a hindrance to getting out of here and finding my own way away from the Hell.

My general feeling of unease, about this particular site, swelling with each passing hour. Just when I thought things seemed to have calmed down, I’d hear raised voices again as people shouted at each other. Thankfully no more sounds of screaming, or gunfire, but I couldn’t help but feel it was only a matter of seconds away.

Looking around, at my fellow survivors, I could tell they were thinking the same as me. At least about the situation within the camp anyway. I doubt they’d managed to secure some keys to make a great escape bid.

“DADDY!” a little girl’s voice made me sit up and spin around towards the entrance of the tent. She sounded so much like Rebecca that I couldn’t help but to get my hopes up and my heart sank when I realised it wasn’t her.

This little girl ran into the tent, and straight into the arms of a man who I presume was her father when he too turned at the sound of her voice. She was crying, he was crying. The tent’s entrance flap went to one side again as the girl was followed by an older woman. She too ran into the arms of the man - crying with happiness and repeating how she thought she had lost him. At first I smiled and then I felt a pang of jealousy hit home.

“I was so worried!” the man kept telling them. “Where were you?”

I couldn’t stand it anymore and climbed from the camp bed and made my way out of the tent. I know I should feel some kind of joy, in my heart, for the family but all I could do was wish it had been my family as opposed to his. Perhaps these thoughts were natural but they made me feel uneasy. They didn’t even fill me with hope that it meant my family could be out there somewhere too. Just jealousy. An ugly emotion to go with the ugly way I’ve behaved as a husband and, on some levels, human-being.

Outside now. It’s getting dark but still too light to make a move. The temperature is still higher than you’d expect for this time of the evening too. You could feel it as soon as you stepped foot outside of the nicely air-conditioned tent.

I heard more people shouting. This time I realised they were shouting for joy. I turned in the direction from whence the voices came and spotted another coach had pulled up with more civilians disembarking. A crowd of people had gathered around the coach - no doubt people already here who had dashed over to see if their family, friends or loved-ones had been saved - despite the soldiers telling them to get back to allow the new arrivals the space to step down from the coach.

I walked towards the coach, desperately trying not to get my hopes up but it was impossible. Especially after the scene I had witnessed in the tent. If God saw fit to give that man his family back - why wouldn’t he allow me the same rights? What am I doing? I don’t even believe in God.

As I neared the coach I thought my heart was going to explode right there in my chest, leaving behind nothing more than an empty vessel where it used to reside. I spotted Fiona. She was on the register again, noting down the names of the new folk. I gave her a wave to try and get her attention.

If my family is here - would it change my plan for later in the evening? Would I stay here for as long as possible and give the military a chance to set things right outside? Or would I still go ahead and make a run back to the perceived safety of my own home?

Fiona noticed me. Solemnly, she shook her head.

I stopped in my tracks.

Fighting back the tears of anger, pain and frustration - I turned away from the scene of happy reunions; a sight my mind seemed to notice more than the people who disembarked from the coach alone, looking lost and scared. People who weren’t meeting up with anyone they knew. It was as if these individuals were invisible to me.

I felt a hand touch my shoulder and turned round to see Fiona.

“It’s fine,” I told her before she had a chance to tell me how sorry she was that my family weren’t amongst the new arrivals. “Nothing changes,” I said, “we leave tonight.”

I walked away from her as I knew I wouldn’t be capable of hiding the obvious disappointment that I was feeling. She chased after me, “Wait,” she said. I turned back to her expecting to reiterate that it was fine. “I’ve at least got some good news for you,” she continued.

“What is it?” I asked.

She handed the key to me, “What do you think?” she asked.

“It’s a key,” I said.

“Look closely,” she pointed to the top of the key. Three digits scratched into it. “You know what that is?” she asked. She didn’t wait for an answer, “It’s the first three digits of the number plate. Our vehicle is across the field...And, more importantly, it has nothing blocking our way.”

“Really?” I tried not to get my hopes up on the off-chance, although highly doubtful, I had misunderstood what she meant.

She nodded and couldn’t help but smile. To be fair, neither could I. The first bit of good news since finding out the place had gone to shit.

“Let’s not wait,” she said.

“We have to.”

“No, we don’t. Vehicles are going in and out all the time - soldiers venturing out for supplies and survivors. We could just get in the vehicle and drive out. If they try and stop us - you could just put your foot down. If we wait...What are the chances of another vehicle not blocking us in later on tonight? And then what? We can hardly push it out of the way to make a run for it. Come on, let’s just go...” she continued. She seemed almost as desperate to get out of here as me. Had she seen something else which caused her determination to be my escape partner, or had my fears of staying simply played on her mind a little more. “Come on, please, I just want to go.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “Lead the way.”

I knew it was probably safer to wait until it was dark, before we made our move in a stolen vehicle, but I couldn’t help but consider her warnings - the fact that our chosen transport could indeed be blocked in before it was time to leave and then we’d be back to only two options. The first option being to stay put and try again another day - although I knew it was highly risky considering the fragile atmosphere of the camp. The second option was to try and steal another set of keys - with the intention of getting access to a car which wasn’t blocked in.

I followed Fiona away from the main area of various-sized tents and out towards a field which had numerous vehicles parked across it. Not a proper car park and yet organised, to the best of their ability, to mimic one.

“It’s that one over there,” she pointed to a dark green truck. I’m not very good with vehicles which don’t have a Mercedes, BMW or Ford badge so I couldn’t say what it was. I was pleased to note, though, that it at least looked as though it would be able to get us across most rough terrain that we may come across on our journey. A good, strong 4X4.

“Something I can help with you?” a gruff, male voice made the pair of us jump as we passed on by the first of the vehicles. I turned around and saw a stern looking solider. A gun was slung back, over his shoulder and a frown etched onto his tired looking face.

I stammered over my words. My mind was in a million different places and I wasn’t prepared for having to think so quickly on my weary feet. Thankfully, Fiona’s mind was more switched on to the fact that we’d be in trouble if we were caught so we’d better have a damned good excuse ready.

“Just wanted to get away from....Well....” she said. She looked coy. “We wanted some privacy, you know, away from the other people. Just for a minute.” she ran her hand down her breast, which was covered by a shirt although I could tell - by the way the soldier followed her hand - that the shirt was invisible to his imagination. Mine too, to be fair. I swallowed hard. “It’s so cramped in our tent and people are missing their families...We just...” she shrugged. She knew the tone in her voice and the few words she had used were enough to get the meaning across without the need for more explanation.

“Well you can’t be here,” the soldier said. “This area is off-limits.”

“Not even for five minutes?” Fiona purred. I was seeing the birth of a different woman before my very eyes and, I have to say, I found it mildly shocking.

The soldier shook his head, “Not even for five minutes,” he stressed.

“Not even if you can watch?” I offered. Fiona shot me a look - it appears she was just as shocked at my desperate change in character as I was in her own change.

“Get the fuck back to the tents!” the soldier snapped at us, his tone of voice letting us know he wasn’t in the mood for any games.

I shrugged and, without thinking, threw a left hook which connected to his face. Despite not being the biggest of men, I heard his jaw crack. At least, I presume it was his jaw - for all I know it could have been my knuckle and the adrenalin of the situation had dulled down the probable pain. The solider staggered back a few paces before he managed to regain his balance. It had been years since I had been in a fight, and even then I’m sure the last scrap didn’t count as a ‘real fight’, and I only hoped I had enough strength to come out on top or else I’d end up looking really stupid. The soldier threw a reply to my left hook with his right fist which, thankfully, just missed me. Had it connected, I’d have probably been floored.

“Big mistake!” the soldier growled as he threw his gun to the floor and, once again, squared up to me with raised fists. His enthusiasm to fight, as opposed to control with the threat of gun-fire, reiterated how people were really feeling in the current climate. I raised my hands though, not that I really knew what I was doing. I was just copying him to give the illusion of being some great boxer. “I’m going to fucking enjoy this,” he snarled. Despite my best poker face I knew that I, on the other hand, wasn’t going to enjoy it. I grimaced in anticipation of the first punch.

“Back away!” Fiona snapped. Despite her tone, her voice was hushed down so as not to alert anyone else who may have been nearby as to what was happening. We both turned to her. Unlike the soldier’s lack of enthusiasm to try and control the situation with the firepower the army had provided him - Fiona was only to happy to point the gun at someone she wanted to control. The soldier, rightly so, put his hands in the air.

“What, are you crazy?” the soldier stammered over his words. Not so big and strong now that he has an assault rifle pointed at his chest. Unfortunately the soldier and I both knew that Fiona wasn’t crazy and it was clear from the expression on her face - one normally reserved for a rabbit caught in the headlights of some oncoming vehicle - that she wasn’t prepared to pull the trigger. “Give me the gun!” the soldier ordered. He took a couple of steps forward. I followed his lead, before he had a chance to make a move, and took the gun off a thankful Fiona.

“Get back!” I ordered him. I won’t lie, it felt good to be the one issuing the orders. The soldier didn’t move. He was just standing there with a look on his face that suggested he was trying to deduce whether I had it in me to pull the trigger or not. It’s fair to say that I didn’t even know the answer to that myself. Hell, for all I know...

“The safety is on,” the soldier smirked.

Dammit.

Without hesitation, and without checking the status of the safety switch, I lunged forward and cracked him in the side of the head with the butt of the gun. His smirk disappeared from his smug face immediately as he fell to the floor seemingly unconscious.

I turned to Fiona, “Quick, run!”

She led the way as we both ran towards the vehicle which she had earlier pinpointed. I highly doubted that any of the soldiers would be willing to shoot at us for our actions but I wasn’t willing to stick around to put it to the test.

As soon as we got to the truck, Fiona threw me the keys and informed me that she wasn’t able to drive. I caught them, one-handed, and unlocked the vehicle permitting us access in the process.

“THEY’RE GETTING AWAY!” a voice called from the distance. I turned, in the driver’s seat, and noticed the soldier was on his feet again. He was calling to his colleagues. A quick look into the distance was enough to note that they had heard him and were running to his aid. I slammed the driver’s door and started the truck with a quick twist of the key in the ignition. Thankfully the engine spat to life with minimal fuss and, seconds later, my foot was down on the accelerator.

“You might want to buckle up!” I told Fiona.

With my heavy right foot, the truck didn’t take very long to gather a fair amount of speed but I still feared it wasn’t enough. I took my eyes off the field’s dirt-track for a split second to alleviate one of my other concerns and I was pleased to note that we had nearly a full-tank of petrol. With the way everything else had gone, it wouldn’t have surprised me to see that the truck was nearly on empty.

As we sped towards the gate, which took us onto the main country road, I looked in the rear-view mirror half expecting to see vehicles giving chase but there were none. The soldiers weren’t even moving to get to any transport. They were simply standing there, watching us, next to where we had left the aggressive soldier.

“That was easier than I thought it would have been,” said a visibly shaken Fiona.

I didn’t reply.

I thought it would have been harder too. With the exception of the run in with the soldier it was pretty easy. I couldn’t help but wonder whether, if asked, they would have just let us leave on our own accord. I suspected the answer may have been a ‘yes’. Not that they would have let us take one of their vehicles, I’m sure.

Most people would have been happy about how easy it was to get out of there. Most people would have considered themselves fortunate and that the Gods were looking down on them. I’m not most people though. Had I been in the soldier’s position, I’m so stubborn I would have given chase without a second thought. The fact that they were so reluctant just sent alarm bells ringing in my mind...Why didn’t they want to come after us? It’s not as though they’d be scared of us. Not when you consider the fact they’re trained to go to war-zones and fight with enemy whenever they’re called upon.

So my thought was this: what is out here that’s so bad that even the army are reluctant to face it?

D A Y    T H R E E

H O M E    S W E E T    H O M E

I had driven through the night despite my tiredness. On several occasions I had wanted to stop but I didn’t dare. The stories of spiders infesting nearby towns, and the fact their bite was one hundred percent fatal, made me want to just keep driving until I reached the sanctuary of my home.

On several occasions my tired mind reverted to its pessimistic ways and I found myself thinking about what would happen if I returned to my home only to find it had become infested with the spiders too, along with everywhere else. The spider in the shower, on the morning when it all kicked off, had looked like a normal spider but - what if it was one of these new spiders? What if it was just the start of my home infestation? I knew Emma should have just killed it, instead of throwing it out of the bedroom window. There’s nothing saying that the little bastard hadn’t just turned right round, and climbed straight back inside again.

I looked over at Fiona, she was still sound asleep. Had been for a few hours now. At times I felt as though I wanted her to wake up. I wanted the conversation with another person - just to take my mind off of its recurrent thoughts of my family, not being able to save them and the fact we’re probably all doomed anyway. It didn’t seem fair to wake her, though. It just felt as though I was being selfish - even though I’m sure she wouldn’t have begrudged me for disturbing her peace.

I turned my attention back to the main road. Passing through another city. It concerned me how empty the place appeared. There wasn’t even the sight of any possible struggles or fights and we’re only about ten miles out from my own city. The city close to where I live was the centre of gunfire and fires and yet here - it just seemed as though it was deserted. I was tempted to stop and knock on one of the doors, or try one of the many shop doors to see if they were open for business - for no other reason than curiosity, to see if anyone was actually home or not. Was it possible people have been evacuated and moved to other areas? I mean our campsite was big but I’m sure it wasn’t big enough to house all the inhabitants of the places we’ve passed through on the way home. Exactly how many sites were there now and what made them so much safer than just staying at home? But then - maybe they are simply at home with doors and windows locked until the threat passes, or is neutralized.

The emptiness, lack of human civilisation, is creepy. I half expected to see tumbleweed bounce across the road I’m driving down but there’s not even that. No bodies, no tumbleweed, distinct lack of evidence pointing to any trouble or any kind.

Definitely creepy.

“Where are we?”

Fiona’s voice startled me. A quick glance to my side; she was awake and rubbing her sleepy looking eyes.

“Not too far from home now,” I said, “probably another half an hour or so...”

“Where is everyone?”

“It’s been like this at every place we have past. Remote villages, towns...All the same. It’s as though people have just disappeared. It’s early - I was thinking they’ve either locked themselves in until morning or they’ve been evacuated.”

“It doesn’t look as though there has been any trouble here though,” she said - echoing my own thoughts.

“I know. I guess taking people away in the surrounding areas - or forcing them to stay in - was a way of controlling the spread of the spiders? At least - it’s a possibility anyway. We’ll probably never know for sure.”

“It’s creepy. Like we’re the only two people left.”

It was obvious that we weren’t the only two people left - what with having come from the camp - but I knew what she meant and it was definitely a scary thought.

“Shit!” I said.

“What is it?” she asked. She followed my gaze and saw that the road we had turned down was blocked off with various cars in state of abandonment. She didn’t say anything or require an answer from me.

“Okay,” I said, “it’s okay, we knew it wouldn’t be a straight run through.” We didn’t know. Truth be told, I hadn’t given it a moment’s consideration until just now. I pressed my right foot on the clutch and dropped the gearstick back into the reverse position. “There’ll be other roads we can try, it’s fine.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to reassure her or whether I was trying to reassure myself.

A quick three point turn, in the middle of the road, and we were headed back the way we came. I’ll just take the next left, I thought to myself. There’s a saying, after all, that all roads lead to Rome. Not entirely sure who made the saying up and I’m even less sure about the proof that they had regarding this fact but I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, under the circumstances.

“What if all the roads are blocked?” Fiona asked.

I didn’t respond. I just hoped they weren’t. If the roads were blocked then we’d have to drive out of town and try and find another route through. It would be possible, of course, as there is always more than one possible route to take. I’m just not sure as to whether the petrol situation would permit us the luxury of many more detours. Pretty sure the petrol stations won’t be open around now and, although I could loot some petrol, I’m not entirely sure I’d know how to. Funnily enough, it’s never been something that I’ve had to learn.

I leaned forward and flicked the radio on, “Let’s see if anyone is talking. Maybe there’s talk of a plan, escape...Something.” I started to twist the dial through the various frequencies. I knew the chances of finding a station that was broadcasting were slim to none but it was better than having to ignore another question from Fiona that I wouldn’t be able to answer. Especially as my lack of communication back to her was not only not very comforting for her, in her obvious hour of need, but also - her questions were starting to freak me out a little bit more too. Questions I hadn’t necessarily thought of when I had decided to leave the camp.

These past few hours, driving on the road, part of me had been worrying as to whether we had done the right thing by driving off in a stolen vehicle. What if that was the safest place for us? What if our only sanctuary was the comfort of that damned camp - even if it wasn’t guaranteed for the duration of this...Whatever this is? I had been feeling worse, fretting more, since leaving too - because I had dragged Fiona with me. I couldn’t help but shake off the feeling that I could be leading her to her death. I fucking hope not. She doesn’t deserve that. She seems nice enough.

“There’s nothing,” I said. “Damn it.”

“Here, I’ll keep trying,” she offered.

I moved my hand so she could resume twisting the dial around. We both knew that there was nothing there and her actions were pointless but, if they made her feel better, who was I to tell her to give up?

“This looks clearer,” I said. I was trying my best to remain upbeat but I think the tone in my voice gave me away as the pessimist I really was.

“Hopefully,” replied Fiona. Just as my tone had given me away - her tone had also done the same to her. She gave up with the radio and leaned forward to the glove compartment, “Maybe there’s a map in here, or something. You know, just in case we come unstuck again. Might help us find another route?”

The glove compartment dropped open, in front of her knees. I glanced down out of curiosity and noticed that it was full of various pieces of paperwork.

“Looks promising,” I said, not that I really needed a map. Years of driving a van around, before moving into the office where I worked now, had given me quite a good knowledge of the south. Still, I supposed that it could have come in handy.

“What’s this?” she asked. She pulled a tape cassette out from underneath the different pieces of paperwork. Another quick glance down, once again taking my eyes off the road momentarily, showed it to be nothing but a blank tape. No markings, or labels, on it to reveal it to be anything different. “Haven’t seen one of these for years,” she said, “I guess the military are more concerned about spending cash elsewhere than they are with updating the vehicles radios to allow for CD players.” She slid the tape into the tape deck and, after a few seconds pause, 80s music started to play through the rattling speakers. She shrugged, “Better than nothing.”

There was no map amongst the pieces of paper remaining in the glove compartment. Just as well, then, that the next right hand turn was also clear of abandoned vehicles. I didn’t say anything as I didn’t want to jinx it. After all - there was still a number of various turns and roads needed before we were home and dry.

“Look!” she said. She sounded nervous. I looked in the direction she was pointing. My heart stopped for a couple of seconds when I noticed what she had seen and I stopped the vehicle to allow myself a couple of seconds to regain my composure.

Across the road, from where we were stopped, was a shop. Its door was closed with a ‘closed’ sign spun around for all who passed by to notice but that wasn’t what Fiona had noticed. She had noticed the window display. Or rather, the lack of window display. That’s not to say it wasn’t present, it’s just that it wasn’t visible. Not from here. Not properly. The window was covered in spiders. From this distance they looked to be different shapes and sizes but none bigger than a fifty pence piece. Thick black bodies with long legs - although, from this distance it was hard to say whether the legs were hairy or smooth. Not that I was desperate to know either way. Never before, thankfully, had I seen such an amass of spiders - in fact, come to think of it, any insect or creature - as I was seeing now and I didn’t want to witness such a sight again.

“What are they doing?” I asked.

Fiona shrugged, “I’m never seen them like that before.”

The spiders were on the window, not moving. They were just standing there as though basking in the early morning sun-light. The freakiest sight I had ever seen. I put my foot down on the accelerator - hard - and sped off down the road. My mind, although partly stuck on the sight I had just witnessed - started to think about what had happened to the town. There still wasn’t any evidence of the army having been here trying to restore peace and keep the creatures at bay - no bullet holes, no fires, no dead bodies...Were those spiders an isolated case or had the town been evacuated and then the spiders came? That would make sense. Had the infestation taken place here - there’d be evidence of a struggle. Had they just migrated here, from wherever the bastards came from...Well, it would be like a ghost town, which it is. Regardless, I don’t plan on stopping and I can only but hope the roads remain clear of obstacles or else I fear our journey would be over before it properly began.

“I don’t have a passport,” said Fiona, suddenly.

“What?”

“I mean, I have one but it’s not with me...You said, we’ll go to yours for a bit and then - if people aren’t able to sort things out - you said we’d head for an airport, or the docks, to try and get a plane or boat. Well, I don’t have a passport. They won’t let me go with you,” she started to sound as though she was beginning to panic.

“It’s fine,” I said, “I’m sure there are lots of people in your position. I know I’m one. I’m pretty sure my passport is out of date but, I think, we’ll be okay. These are special circumstances so...” I cut my own sentence off. When I mentioned boats and planes, back at the camp, they were merely wishful thoughts. The plane that came down - it just dropped out of the sky - I’m pretty sure they won’t be in a hurry to send more up. And the boats - not exactly safe either. What’s to stop the spiders from getting onto those too? I didn’t share my concerns with Fiona. Again I kept them to myself. Why take her hope away too? It was good that at least one of us had some hope - even if it was fading with each passing hour. I wouldn’t take it away prematurely.

The truth of the matter was that I didn’t have a clue as to what we were going to do. Not just us but any of the survivors. This plague of arachnids was devastating to the population. It managed to cause so much destruction within the space of a few hours that I couldn’t see any possible way of surviving it, let alone stopping it. The future was looking bleak, despite my best intentions to remain as positive as the situation allowed for. All I could hope was that this was a government experiment gone horribly wrong. At least, if that was the case, they’d be busy working on a way of putting things right. Maybe they’ve even got a way of fixing things? Fiona did mention that the soldiers were speaking of a ‘fix’...

Ever so slightly, I felt my hopes rise once more.

* * * * *

I turned onto the main road which led the way through to my cul-de-sac. Thankfully the rest of the journey had been event free. We hadn’t even noticed any more of the spiders - not since the ones we had spotted in the shop window in the next town down. It gave me hope that things would be okay at my house, that the spiders hadn’t reached there yet. Neither of us spoke about it though for fear of jinxing it.

The truck stuttered to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” asked Fiona.

“Petrol,” I said solemnly, “we’re out.”

Fiona didn’t say anything as she took onboard my words, “Are we close?”

“Thankfully, yes,” I said, “more or less just round the corner.”

I wasn’t paying any attention to her, or her expression. Instead I was looking out of the various windows of the truck. I was trying to see if I could see anything moving on the sides of the road - not that it mattered had I been able to. It’s not as though we could have stayed in the truck with the vague hope another military convoy went on by - especially given the fact that, since leaving the camp, I hadn’t seen a single human being!

“What’s wrong?” she asked again.

“Nothing, I’m just making sure there’s nothing out there.”

She started to follow my lead by looking out of the window, “Do you see anything?” she asked.

“No.” I turned back to her. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. We’re quite close to where I live now. We’ll get out of the truck and head on to my house. Just head on straight down the middle of the road - keep away from any trees, bushes or even grass verges...Hopefully - we should be able to see them on the concrete...” I breathed in. “I fucking hate spiders.”

The problem with spiders, compared to other bugs, is that they’re so quick. One minute they’re not there and the next, they are. And it’s when they run at you too. You spot them and they suddenly freeze as though they’re playing a game of What’s the time, Mr Wolf? You turn away from them, for a split second, and slowly they start moving again before going back into a full on sprint to wherever they’re trying to reach. Worse still is when they’re of a decent size and you have wooden floors. Not only are they quick but you can hear them tapping along the wooden floor as they run. It’s almost as though each of their eight tiny feet have steel-toe-capped boots on.

My friend once told me that spiders are short sighted. The reason they run and suddenly stop when you see them, according to my friend, is because they haven’t seen you - just as you haven’t seen them. Only when they’re close by and you spot them - and subsequently freak out - do they spot you too and freeze, no doubt in the hope that you don’t trap them under a pint glass or stamp out their miserable existence. I don’t know if my friend is right, or not, and even if they are - it doesn’t make me like spiders any more.

“Ready?” I asked Fiona.

She looked just as scared as I felt but she nodded, signifying that she was also ready.

“Okay,” I said, “let’s get this done as quickly as we can, yeah?”

I didn’t wait for an answer. I already knew what it was going to be. Instead I opened the truck door and jumped down onto the hard concrete. As soon as my feet touched the floor, I ran towards the middle of the road - away from the pavements and, more importantly, over hanging trees and grass verges. When I got to the middle of the road, I looked in all directions before turning back to the truck. I waved to Fiona, a gesture - which we hadn’t agreed upon - which was meant to inform her that it was safe for her to follow. Thankfully, despite my lack of instruction, she understood and joined me in the middle of the road.

Once together, we started a brisk jog in the direction of my house. Up until this point - although not the most active of people - I never actually considered myself to be out of shape. However, a few steps into the job I started to gasp with each footing. Fiona, on the other hand, made it look effortless.

Round the next bend and I could see the turn off for my estate. Still keeping our eyes on our surroundings, I increased our pace - spurred on by the fact that the finish line was so close. Fiona kept by my side.

Not even two minutes later, we were turning into the estate.

“Second right hand turning,” I pointed out between gasps for air.

Whilst keeping an eye out for anything which might have resembled a spider, I couldn’t help but notice how quiet the street was. Most of the drives were empty of cars - no doubt where the homes’ occupants had gone off to work - but not all of them. The drives with cars - those houses were deathly quiet as though empty despite the implication of someone being at home.

“What do you think?” asked Fiona.

I didn’t answer her. Too busy looking around and trying to keep up with her, now that she had edged into the lead slightly. Together, we turned into the small cul-de-sac where my house was situated. Immediately, I froze in the centre of the road.

“What is it?” asked Fiona - who also stopped when I did.

“Emma’s car,” I said, “that’s Emma’s car...She’s home!”

With the help of a second wind, I sprinted towards the house - fishing for the keys in my trouser pocket as I did so. Gone were the thoughts of spiders, and the dangers they presented. Taken over, by thoughts of my family taking refuge in the house - waiting for me to get back to them.

I unlocked the front door in the quickest time possible and stepped into the house with Fiona close behind. I didn’t close the door, instead I left that to my guest. Probably not very friendly of me but...I stopped dead in the hallway at the sound of laughter. And voices - coming from the television set in the lounge.

Could it be?

I looked at Fiona. She urged me to see what was in the lounge, “Go on...I’m right behind you...”

Cautiously, and nervously, I walked over to the lounge door. I reached towards the handle with my shaking left hand unsure of what I was going to find on the other side of the door. A slow, nervous twist of the handle and I pushed the door open.

“DADDY!!!” my daughters spotted me instantly and called out my name with excitement.

I couldn’t help but burst into tears as I dashed towards them for a hug - not that I got far before they both ran into my open arms. The scene in the lounge was a million miles away from the scenes we had witnessed outside. The curtains were open, allowing the early morning sunlight the opportunity to spill into the room. The plasma television, hanging on the wall, was on playing their favourite DVD for the hundredth time. There were even some breakfast bowls, with half-eaten cereal, sitting on the small coffee table in the centre of the living room space.

“Mummy said we could have the day off school!” said Rebecca when I released my tight embrace. She had spotted Fiona standing in the doorway, watching our happy reunion with a tear in her eye.

“That’s okay, I have a day off too!” said Fiona.

“Why are you crying?” Hannah asked.

“Oh, I just missed my girls...How have you been? Where’s your mummy?”

“She’s upstairs in bed,” said Hannah. “We got our own cereal but saved her some milk for her cup of tea...”

“Well - that’s nice of you,” I said.

I turned back to Fiona, as the girls went back to their bowls of cereal, and asked her, “Do you mind just keeping an eye on them for a minute?”

“Not at all,” she said. She walked into the room and sat down on the sofa.

I thanked her and left the room, whilst wiping the tears from my eyes, to make my way up the stairs to see my wife. “I won’t be long,” I told her.

“It’s fine,” she said.

I hurried up the stairs towards our bedroom. My mind was racing with all the various things I had to say to Emma; I love her, I missed her - things which would show her that I cared despite the ‘cocky’ and arrogant front I had put on for all these years.

Halfway up the stairs and I heard a loud bump from behind the bedroom’s closed door.

“You okay?” I called out. I reached the top and quickly twisted the handle before pushing the door open. I stopped dead when I saw my wife standing by the window, looking out into the street. I couldn’t see her face but I knew, instantly, that something was very much wrong. “Honey?”

She groaned and lightly bumped her head into the bedroom window.

“Honey?” I called out again. “Are you okay?”

Slowly she turned around to me. I gasped out loud when I saw the look on her face. Her pretty face, distorted with pain. Her eyes seemingly rolling into the back of her head. Her mouth agape with her tongue visibly lolling around inside.

“Emma...?” I took a step back as a feeling of fear and worry crept through my body.

She took a few unsteady steps towards me, still groaning, and it was then that I noticed the spider on her arm. It wasn’t moving. It was just sitting there with its legs stretched in such a way it appeared as though it was readying itself to make a sudden jump or dash. She groaned again as her arms flopped by her sides. I took another step back as her groans increased in volume. By now I was standing back on the landing. I put my hand on the door, ready to slam it shut if Emma suddenly made a run towards me.

Suddenly her left eye rolled back around as though it was trying to focus on me but it wasn’t. I knew that now. My wife was already gone. The cloudy appearance of the reticle proved that to me.

What happened next sickened me to my stomach and filled me with a level of terror I had never experienced before nor wish to experience again.

D A Y    T H R E E

D E S T I N A T I O N    U N K N O W N

“Honey?”

I knew she wasn’t going to answer me. The look on her face clearly showing the lights were on but no one was home. She lurched forward, towards me, again with her right foot awkwardly leading her left which dragged behind as though the brain’s signals weren’t quite reaching it properly.

My hand was still on the door, ready to slam it shut but unable to. A morbid, horrified, curiosity kept me watching to see what she was going to do next.

“Honey?” I called out to her again wishing she’d answer me normally. Wishing, more than anything, that she was playing a cruel and sick joke - perhaps a way of testing my love for her? She wants to see if I’d get upset if she were a zombie?

Her left shoulder hunched up at a strange angle forcing a crack from the uncomfortable looking joint. Her right shoulder did the same. A louder groan from the back of her throat, followed by a hiss which escaped her pursed lips. Lips which slowly started to part, with another groan escaping at the same time.

I stumbled back when I realised what I was witnessing. From out of her mouth - legs first followed by the black body of a strange looking spider. One, to begin with, quickly followed by more. They left her mouth and crawled onto her face - her cheeks, her chin - anywhere really where there was room for them to be able to freely move.

I wanted to desperately slam the door shut. I wanted to run from the house taking the children and Fiona with me yet I didn’t. I just remained standing there - watching, in horror, as more spiders emerged from her nostrils where they then, quickly, joined the other spiders on her skin; her skin which was fast becoming a writhing, black mass of arachnid.

I couldn’t contain my scream any longer when I saw them push past her eyeballs.  Tears of spiders formed as the eyeball rolled, pushed from side to side as the spiders forced their way past it. My body came to its senses and slammed the door shut.

“Everything okay up there?” Fiona called up from the bottom of the stairs.

“Grab the children!” I yelled as I started to hurry down the flight of stairs.

Fiona didn’t waste any time with stupid questions. She hurried through to the lounge and grabbed the kids - both of whom looked scared when they appeared in the doorway to the hallway.

“Come on, kids!” I said. I tried to keep my voice upbeat and optimistic but I’m sure my expression betrayed the fear which was surging from every pore of my body. “We’re going on a road trip!” I continued.

As I ushered them towards the front door, pushing them out before I ventured out myself, I heard a bang from upstairs. I wasn’t sure whether Emma was trying to get out of the bedroom or whether her empty shell of a body had dropped to the floor. I tried not to think about it. As I followed Fiona out of the door, I closed it behind me.

“What about mummy?” Rebecca asked.

“She’s having a nap,” I lied. I sensed Fiona was looking at me but didn’t dare look her in the face. I knew, seeing her sympathy, I wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears. Can’t cry. Mustn’t cry. The girls have never seen me weep and, if I were to, I’m sure they’d know something was wrong. Worse still, they’d get upset too. “Towards the car,” I continued to usher them towards Emma’s car, which was parked up on the driveway.

Good as gold, the girls ran towards the back doors. Hannah was the first to realise they were locked, “Let us in, daddy!”

Shit.

I patted down my trousers pockets out of habit but I knew the keys weren’t there.

Shit, shit, shit!

I looked at Fiona; panic in my eyes. I shook my head.

“We can’t go back in there,” I whispered to her. “It’s not safe...”

Fiona gasped when she happened to glance upwards. I followed her line of vision and was shocked to see the bedroom window was a shimmering mass of tiny black bodies - all seemingly jostling around to try and get the best sun-spot.

“What are they doing?” Fiona asked - still, thankfully, in a hushed voice.

“Daddy! Let us in!” Rebecca called over from the car again. Neither of the girls had noticed what Fiona and I had seen, not that I wanted them to see. At this stage, I wasn’t sure how much they may have already witnessed. Regardless of whether they had witnessed the true extent of the horror outbreak in the city, I didn’t want them to witness further images that may cause them alarm.

“Be right there,” I told her despite being completely at a loss as to what to do.

“Look,” Fiona nodded in the direction of my neighbour’s house, “top window too.” Their window was in the same state as my own bedroom window. Hundreds of spiders giving the false impression of looking at a tinted window. “And that window,” she nodded towards another house.

A quick glance around the other houses in the cul-de-sac painted a similar picture. In fact, only one house didn’t have anything sinister in the windows. The house in the corner of the road, tucked back ever so slightly from the other buildings. Added bonus, there was a car in the driveway too.

I turned to the girls, “Wait here with Fiona. I’m just popping to the neighbours to ask them something and then we’re going to get going.”

“Can I get my doll from my bedroom?” Hannah asked. “I accidentally left her in there.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, stupid daddy has locked us out of the house.”

“But if we knock, mummy can come and let us in.”

“She’s asleep,” I lied, “because she has a headache. Besides, you won’t need your doll. I can’t tell you why because it’s a surprise but trust me!” I gave her a smile and turned to Fiona, “Sorry but can you watch....”

She cut me off mid-sentence, “Just go. Be careful,” she said.

I didn’t say anything as I turned towards my neighbours’ house and started the walk up their driveway. My eyes were fixed on the windows I could see - ready to abandon the whole thing if I even saw a hint of trouble, or danger. Once at the front door I glanced in through the lounge window. I don’t know why but I half expected to see the television on and my neighbours both sitting there, watching whatever was playing. The room looked empty, though. My attention turned to the front door. I carefully lifted the letterbox flap - a part of me worried that something may jump out at my face which, thankfully didn’t happen.

Inside, I couldn’t see any signs of trouble nor could I hear anyone moving around. I gently tapped on the door - loud enough for people inside to hear but not loud enough for anyone, in the street or neighbouring houses.

“Anyone home?” I called in.

There was not a peep to be heard; be it a scuttling noise of eight legs running across a wooden flooring nor the sound of someone telling another person to see who was at the door. There was nothing. Just as there had been nothing in the surrounding areas while we had been driving home from the survivors’ camp. I nervously looked over my shoulder. Fiona was watching me while the children were playing next to the car - seemingly unaware that anything was wrong. I wonder, if we are to make it out of the cul-de-sac, how long they’ll continue to think everything is normal. Maybe I should just talk to them, tell them, before we head out? Would that be better than having them discover things are amiss in their own, young and impressionable minds?

One thing at a time. Need to get into the house. Need to try and find some keys to go with the car. Please, God, let there be some keys. Just give me a break. Please.

I looked around. A door mat on the floor which read ‘welcome’. When I was growing up, my mother and father had one similar. They kept the spare key to the house under the mat. Perhaps? I lifted it up and jumped back when a spider came scurrying out from underneath. A second later and it was crushed under my boot. No key, though. Not that I really expected there to be one. Different times to when I was a lad, growing up in the family home. More crimes, more break-ins. It’s a different time, alright.

I stopped for a moment as a thought flashed through my mind. If the car is in the driveway...I turned to the door handle and tentatively put my hand upon it. I pushed it down and the door clicked open. I pushed the door open as far as I could. It bounced off the metal radiator attached to the wall next to it. A metallic sound which echoed through the seemingly empty house.

It can’t be empty.

Car in the drive.

Front door unlocked.

Spider-sense tingling...

“Hello? Anyone home?” I nervously called out. “Just swung on by from next door...” All these years, living here, and I never got around to introducing myself to the neighbours. It’s only now that I’ve come to regret my hermit-like ways. Again, growing up, everyone knew everyone in the street and quite often I’d come home to an empty house, only to discover later, that mum had vanished to the neighbour up the road for a ‘quick’ cup of tea and a catch up chat. A quick cup of tea which had often turned into a bottle of wine. A catch up chat which would turn into a several hour bitch-fest slagging off other neighbours in the street. “Hello?” I called out again. I was half-turned towards the door, ready to run out at a moment’s notice, my heart beating hard and fast within my chest.

Something isn’t right.

The layout of the house was similar to my own, despite the fact this house appeared bigger than my own from the outside. The hall stretched down towards the kitchen at the back of the house, with doors leading off to various rooms - no doubt the same as mine; dining room, lounge and small washroom. On the opposite side of the hallway, enclosed stairs lead up to the bedrooms and bathroom. More importantly though, on the wall just before the start of the staircase...Some pegs with various keys hanging from them; including the keys to the car outside judging by the electronic fob which was used to unlock it. I reached across and grabbed the key off the hook and turned to the door.

And then I stopped.

Come on, what are you doing? Just go! You have what you came for! My brain kept telling me. But I couldn’t. Not until I knew what had happened. Slowly I turned my back on the door - a part of my brain cursing me as I did so. What if they are here? What if they’re just asleep? I should take them with me. They’re in danger. We should all just cram into their car and head for...Somewhere away from here. I can’t just go. Not until I know. If they are here, sleeping or whatever...I’d never forgive myself if something happened to them. The fact I wouldn’t know for sure would just play on my mind more.

I don’t need to be in here long.

Just a quick check.

For peace of mind, it will be worth it...

“Hello?” I called up the stairs to no avail. I quickly, and cautiously, walked down the hall whilst taking the time to take a quick peek in each of the rooms - nothing too involved, just enough to stick my head around the door and take a quick look inside. Each room revealing the same as the last - in other words, not a lot and certainly not the neighbours I was hoping to bump into.

Back down the hallway and I stopped at the foot of the stairs. A look back to the open front door. Should I just go? Certainly safer...

Still can’t. Silly little part of my brain stopping me.

I looked back to the top of the stairs. Nothing unusual. The carpet looked as though it had only recently been hoovered. There were pictures of flowers lining the wall right to the top of the stairs and even those looked as though they had recently been polished. Nothing unusual and, yet, something extremely sinister about it. As though, given the circumstances of what was happening outside, it looked as though it were too normal.  A hidden evil lurking just beneath the surface of normality.

Jesus, I watch too many horror films.

I started to walk up the stairs, slowly and quietly. I kept my hands away from the bannister rail on the off-chance something was waiting, unseen, underneath it. Every so often I thought I caught a glimpse of something small, and black, move quickly to my side but every time I turned to see what it was - there was nothing there. I kept alert though. Just because I didn’t see anything, it didn’t mean they weren’t around.

At the top of the stairs the air had turned a little more stale. Perhaps it was just as stale at the bottom but the open door had taken enough of the scent away to make me miss it? What is that anyway? Rotten milk?

“Hello?” I called out. I don’t know why. I knew no one was going to answer me. After all, it’s not as though they wouldn’t have heard me calling when I was downstairs. Perhaps it was for my own benefit? The sound of my own voice breaking the eerie silence held by the  seemingly empty house. “Anyone home?” I asked.

The first room was the bathroom. Empty. Toothbrushes left in the toothbrush holder, by the sink. Hair brush on the opposite side. Everything clean. Nothing looked out of place or as though someone had run through, in a panic, packing things up in a hurry.

The next room seemed to be a spare bedroom which looked as though it hadn’t been used for as long as the house had stood - although it was perfectly clean, ready to give a bed for the night to any possible friends or family members who visited and required it.

Milk smell is stronger still.

The third, and last bedroom, had the door closed. Slowly I pushed it open and froze when I saw what was beyond. My neighbours were on the bed, embraced in an ever-lasting cuddle. Next to them, on the bedside cabinet, were empty bottles of pills - a deadly cocktail of various medications to help lull them into an eternal sleep. What looked to be a note, next to the empty bottles, written to - I guess - whoever had the misfortune to find them. Me in this instance. I didn’t need a note to know what had happened though. They had taken the easy option of an escape. An elderly couple, they knew they would have only slowed the escape of other survivors. They knew they’d have only been in the way. I didn’t need the note but I was kind of curious...

I took a step closer, to read the note, and stopped dead in my tracks. On the beige carpet, in a sun-spot which spilled through the front facing window, were a number of spiders. None of them were moving, with the exception of the odd leg twitch here and there. They were just sitting there, sunning themselves in the mid-morning heat. Without taking my eyes off them, I took a quiet step back so as not to disturb them. I didn’t bother closing the door behind me when I was back on the landing. There was little point. If they wanted to come through, they’d have easily forced themselves underneath the narrow gap between door and floor.

I walked backwards all the way to the top of the stairs so that I could keep an eye out for sudden movement. When I was there, faced with the flight of stairs to the doorway, I finally took my eyes away from the bedroom door and ran as fast as I could down the stairs and out of the house. I slammed the door behind me and hurried over to where Rebecca and Hannah were waiting with an extremely nervous looking Fiona.

“I thought something had happened,” she said, “I was wondering whether I should come and find you. Were the neighbours not in?” she asked.

I shook my head and addressed the children, “Look, kids, the neighbours have given us their car for a while so we can still go out!”

The kids both gave a little cheer as I pressed the fob to unlock the neighbours’ estate car. They didn’t need asking to jump in as, no sooner had it unlocked, they ran to let themselves in.

“You think they were taken to the camp?” Fiona asked as we too headed over to the car.

“Must have been,” I said. I didn’t want to tell her what I had seen. The thought of an elderly couple taking the easy way out, at least easy compared to having your insides turned into fucking spiders, made me feel even worse about the situation. The thought that they had felt there was so little that could be done, by anyone, to put things right that they had no alternative choice but to kill themselves made me realise just how bleak things were - as though it had finally sunk into my brain that this could well be the final days of humanity as we knew it.

“The way you came out of there,” Fiona said, “I thought you must have seen something.”

“I just freaked myself out,” I lied. I opened the driver’s door and climbed into the car, telling the children to buckle up as I did so.

Fiona might have guessed that I was lying but she didn’t say anything to suggest so. She simply got into the car, the opposite side to me, and closed the door behind her.

Seconds later and the key was in the ignition and we were driving from the cul-de-sac. A feeling of sadness washed over me as I glanced at my house in the rear-view mirror. My house where the girls had grown up. My house where I had shared many happy memories with my family. My house where I had watched spiders crawl over my wife’s face.

“You okay?” Fiona asked.

I looked at her, “I don’t know.”

“Where are we going?” Rebecca asked from the back seat.

I didn’t know that either.

D A Y    T H R E E

R E V E L A T I O N S

I pulled up next to the vehicle we had taken from the camp.

“What are you doing?” asked Fiona.

“Hang on...”

I climbed from the car and opened the boot before heading across to the stolen vehicle. I leaned in and grabbed the rifle we had taken from the soldier when we made our escape from the camp the previous day. I’ve never fired a gun before but I figured I’d rather have it to hand and not need it than need it and not have it. I placed it in the boot of my newly acquired vehicle and slammed it shut before jumping back into the driver’s seat. Fiona didn’t say anything. I half expected a little argument from her - something along the lines of it not being safe to have the gun there, so close to the children - but she remained silent. Obviously she felt the same as I did. Sure, the weapon may not be of much use against hundreds of spiders running towards us but it might be a good deterrent to people out looting - if, indeed, there is anyone out there who’s particularly bothered with stealing stuff which doesn’t belong to them knowing what is happening around them. Again, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

I headed down the road, keeping to the speed limit for no other reason than to save on petrol. No sense driving hard and fast. Ideally we want to make as few stops as possible to cut back on unnecessary risks.

“Where did you want to try first?” Fiona asked.

I shrugged, “I don’t actually know.”

“Well it has to be the airport or the docks, I guess. I’m thinking, considering everything that was happening in town...I’m guessing we should head for the airport first. I mean, I don’t have a passport but like you said earlier - these are special circumstances.”

I looked at her and figured now was a good a time as any to let her know what I had seen when everything first kicked off, “I was trying to get into town,” I said, “and a plane fell from the sky.”

“What?”

“Something must have happened onboard. It crashed. Came down close to where I was. The noise was deafening, thought my ear drums were going to burst...But that’s not all...Someone came out of the wreckage. At first, I thought they were really badly hurt but having seen...What happened to my wife...” I looked in the rear-view mirror at my children. They were too busy mucking about with each other to be paying any attention to anything that I was saying, “...The spiders must have been onboard the plane. Just think - one bite...There’d be nowhere to hide...” I took my eyes off the road, for a split second, to see how Fiona was taking the news. Her expression was blank; impossible to read. “Did you hear me?” I asked.

“So what now?” she asked me.

I wish I had an answer for her. Not just an answer for her but an answer for my kids too. I didn’t, though. I had nothing. No words of comfort I could offer. No plan. Nothing. The idea had been to take refuge in my house, while we decided what to do but now that was out of the question...I was lost. We all were. She made mention of some big plan the army had been talking about. I just wish she had heard a little more of the conversation - something to give us some ray of hope in this fucked up world...Mind you, would it be another ray for the spiders to come and nest in?

Wait.

I slowed the car to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “What have you seen?”

“My wife,” I started. “The spiders. When they...When the spiders appeared, in my house, they didn’t run towards me. They ran towards a ray of sunshine which was coming in through the window. As though attracted to the warm spot. And my neighbours,” I continued, “they were home. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to cause alarm...but they had taken some pills. I found them on their bed. Near them, in another beam of warm light, from the window, there were spiders nestling together. And then of course when we drove down - we saw that window...All the other windows too...”

“So you’re saying they’re attracted to heat?”

“I don’t know but it makes sense with what we’ve seen recently. And they are hatched in human blood - which is a temperature of around thirty-seven to thirty-eight degrees...Maybe they need heat to stay alive? That’s why, at night, we didn’t see any evidence of them? Perhaps they’re sunning themselves in the heat to survive the cooler nights? I don’t know, I’m not a scientist. I don’t know about things like this. Biology, stuff like that, never been of interest but I do know that it makes sense.”

“All the tents at the camp were air-conditioned...Do you think the military knows about this or were they just trying to keep the place cool for us? Keep people more comfortable to help prevent fights from breaking out?” Again, I shrugged. At this stage, everything we were saying was nothing more than a theory. “So,” Fiona continued, “when the weather cools off - hopefully the spiders will just die out? Is that what will happen?”

Another shrug. “I’m sorry but I don’t know. For all I know, I could be wrong. I just find it strange, considering how everything went mad, in the city when the outbreak first started that now the spiders all appear to be docile. I was standing close to them - they didn’t even make a move for me. The only reason I can think of is because it would have been slightly warmer where they were originally.”

“What about Emma?” I could tell Fiona felt uncomfortable even mentioning her name.

“She was standing by the window. I’m guessing she heard us come in and walked over to the window to see who it was. Maybe she was even standing there before we came home - watching out for signs of trouble? She’d have had a good view of the whole cul-de-sac from that window and,” I nodded towards the kids in the back still blissfully unaware of what was happening, “they would have been none the wiser. It would have only taken one spider to bite her.”

“But how would it have got in there?” she asked. “If the spiders are docile...How would it have got into the house to attack anyone?”

“I don’t know. I wish I did but I don’t. Maybe it’s one of the original spiders...Maybe they’re different. Like I said - all of this could be rubbish. I’m just trying to make sense of things so I can decide on where to go next.”

“This heatwave...The weather reports, before everything went offline, stated it was to be a long one, no end in sight. Warm air from...I don’t know where...But that means, if it’s the warmth that is keeping the spiders here...They’re here to stay.”

“But it’s cooler up north,” I pointed out.

I pressed my foot down on the accelerator and headed for the motorway. If there is any truth to what I am thinking, about the temperature being an important factor to these things...If there is the slightest bit of truth in any of it...There will be less outbreaks the further north we go. Hopefully, they’ll stop altogether when we get to the coldest part of the country.

“I should never have moved down here,” Fiona said. “At least if it’s true...My family will be okay...” she realised what she said, “Oh, shit, I’m sorry...I didn’t mean...”

“It’s fine,” I said.

Although I was hurting from the loss of my wife - a loss I’ll mourn properly when I’m able to stop and really think about her - I’m happy that her family is potentially okay. At the moment I have my daughters, at least, whereas she is alone. I hope for her sake that she gets the happy ending she deserves.

I changed the subject, “I’m just going to drive north,” I said, “we should get to the motorway and the first service station on what is left in this tank of fuel. Once at the first station, if you fill the car up, I’ll go in and see what I can get from the shelves. Just fill the boot with as much food and drink as possible. I don’t know how long we’ll be driving before we come into civilisation or some kind of normality but I figure this is our best shot....”

Fiona interrupted me, “As long as our theory is right?”

“As long as our theory is right,” I confirmed. “I don’t know what else to do, unless you can think of something different?”

She shook her head, “What choice do we have?”

* * * * *

We had been driving for about half an hour and still not made it to the motorway despite my best efforts. Most routes were blocked with abandoned cars which were possible to avoid for a while but generally became more of a problem the further in you pressed. Same story down most alternative routes; a few cars left in the road, you navigate past them and continue further and then get stuck at road blocks or small stretches where the abandoned vehicles were impossible to get past, an annoyance which forced you back the way you had originally come made more annoying by Hannah occasionally asking whether we were nearly ‘there’ yet or what I was doing. Why couldn’t she be more like her sister who was sound asleep next to her?

“This is ridiculous,” I stated the obvious when I came to another dead end.

“We could go back towards the camp,” Fiona pointed out, “and then try and find a route that way which could get us to the motorway? Would that work?”

I shrugged, “Nothing to lose by giving it a go,” I replied. I span the car around and headed back the way I had just come from.

“What are you doing?” asked Rebecca.

“Not now, Rebecca!” I snapped, instantly regretting it. “I’m sorry,” I said, a change of tone in my voice to try and stop her from getting unduly upset, “traffic is stressing daddy out.”

“That’s okay,” she replied, “it is rubbish. Everyone must be going to the beach.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Is that where we are going?”

“Have to wait and see!” I told her. Although technically speaking not a lie, I didn’t like hiding the truth from my daughters but I didn’t have a choice. What else was I going to tell them?

Sorry, girls! There’s this new species of spider which is wiping out mankind as we know it.

Even if I did tell them - that’d probably think it was some silly story I told them just to try and scare them a little. A bit like the time my own father told me about these creatures he liked to call ‘Bunny Kong’. I have no idea where his story, or idea, originated yet I remember him telling the story as though it were only yesterday. We had broken down - my mother, father, brother and I - we had been on a Sunday drive in what he liked to call his ‘Sunday car’. A car which never saw a drop of rain for the entire time he had it. It only ever came out of the garage on bright sunny days. No wonder the bloody thing broke down. So there we were, by the side of a dual carriageway. We were playing in the field whilst waiting for someone to come by and collect our car and he told us about these giant rabbits with massive fangs. My brother and I laughed but it has been something which has stuck with me through the years - no doubt I’ll even tell my own children about them one day. Even if they are probably the least scary sounding monster ever. At least if my story about spiders had been false...At least they sound horrific.

If only it was a story told to try and scare children.

Suddenly a loud explosion rang through the air. Rebecca was first to scream. Followed by Hannah who had been startled from her sleep by the loud sound. Even Fiona screamed a little. I didn’t but the shock did make me jolt the steering wheel to the side. Thankfully I was alert enough to slow the car without any major incident.

“What the hell was that?” Fiona screamed.

I hadn’t hit anything. And the way the car slowed to a stop told me I hadn’t blown a tyre.

“I don’t know,” I said.

Another loud bang boomed through the summer haze and the girls screamed again. Rebecca was crying now with Hannah close to tears herself. In the distance, towards the main part of the city, great plumes of black smoke billowed up into the atmosphere.

I jumped out of the car, closely followed by Fiona, after telling the girls to wait there. As my gaze followed the smoke into the air, I spotted a fleet of large planes flying high above the main source of the smoke.

“Was this their plan?” I asked Fiona. “They’re just going to bomb the cities?!” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Another loud bang as another large object dropped from the sky and leveled whatever building it landed on. “What the fuck!”

“I don’t know what their plan was!” Fiona said, a look of complete disbelief on her face. “They spoke about having a plan but not actually what it involved...Why would they do this?”

Why indeed? My only guess is that they don’t know about the theory of the heat attracting the spiders; the fact they need it to survive. Another bang, closer this time but still far away enough not to panic us into heading back to the car - yet. Desperate moves on the part of the military - no doubt under strict orders from government bodies who, I expect, have been shipped to another country along with their families. Desperate moves of scared people faced with what they must believe to be the beginning of our country’s end. Perhaps they’re hoping the blasts will destroy the spiders and then they can come back and rebuild the cities? Perhaps they’re hoping for financial help from other world leaders.

“Daddy, I’m scared!” Hannah called from the car. She had climbed out from the back seat, not that I paid her much attention as my mind was distracted by a fast approaching car, heading away from the city. More survivors who had taken refuge somewhere, only to be flushed out by the explosions?

“Honey, get back into the car!” I heard Fiona tell Hannah.

“I want my daddy!”

I stepped into the middle of the road and started to wave my arms in the air - an effort to get the car to slow to stop. Perhaps find out where they are heading? See if they have a plan we could follow too? After all - I don’t fancy heading for the motorway in this direction now. It’d take us too close to the blast radius. And we can’t stay here. There’s nothing to say the bombs won’t start inching their way closer as they decide to flatten more and more of our landscape in an effort to destroy these things.

I wonder whether they even contemplated some kind of bug killer before deciding upon dropping weapons of mass destruction.

“Daddy!” Hannah called out again.

I carried on waving towards the driver of the approaching car, ignoring my daughter in the process as I knew Fiona was keeping an eye on her, telling her to get back into the car to wait with her sister.

“Hey!” I called out to the driver, even though I knew the sight of my flapping arms would be enough to let them know I was hoping to get their attention. Besides, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have heard me. My brain, no doubt, thinking ahead and hoping that, by calling out, it would make me look as though I was too busy to reassure Hannah.

Another loud explosion as another building was reduced to nothing more than rubble.

Jesus Christ, did they really think that this was going to be the best course of action?

“Hey! Wait!” I called out again as the car neared, heading straight for me. Seconds later the car, showing no signs of stopping, was close enough for me to see that the driver was in trouble. I stopped waving my arms in the air and froze, watching on in horror.

Everything seemed to slow-down.

I dove out of the path of the car.

Fiona screamed.

From where I landed, on the side of the road, I watched the car drive past.

Spiders on the back window.

Spiders on the driver.

Another explosion in the distance.

Hannah screamed.

My eyes went wide with terror when I realised...

...The car plowed into the car I had borrowed from the neighbour.

My beautiful daughter pinned between the two vehicles.

Fiona still screaming.

Hannah deathly quiet.

Was I screaming?

The driver flying through the windscreen - straight into, and through, the windscreen of our car.

Fiona frozen to the spot.

I’m running towards the carnage.

Another explosion.

Rebecca is screaming.

Vehicle is getting swamped with small black bodies of death; over the bodywork, through the shattered window.

Rebecca is screaming.

I can see her, through the back window. Visibility getting blocked by spiders spreading across the pane of glass.

I can’t hear Rebecca anymore.

I’m the only one screaming.

F I O N A

D A Y    T H R E E

B R O K E N

I hurried up behind him and grabbed his shoulders, giving him a sharp tug backwards. Despite his best efforts to get to the car, I couldn’t let him go. I can’t even let him stand here much longer either as it’s not safe but it’s taking more effort to move him due to our  obvious size difference and his reluctance to actually be moved.

He’s just standing there, pulling against my hold, wailing as the sounds of the bombs ring through the roads around us. He must know it is too late. Hannah...She already has more of the spiders spilling from her open mouth and his other daughter, Rebecca, is silent now with the exception - if I’m hearing correctly - of small groans which is never a good thing going by what I saw back at the school.

“We have to go!” I told him as I gave him another tug; a few more steps away from the car but still not far away enough. The spiders are starting to spill out of the windows onto the warm tarmac of the road. “Come on!” I pulled him again. A quick look around and I notice a row of various shops. The one which caught my eye, in particular, being a small supermarket. “Quick!” I shouted as I pulled him in the direction of the shop - the perfect place for us to try and lay low so long as his theory is correct. If his theory isn’t correct, we’re as good as dead.

As I neared the front of the building, the automatic doors didn’t open. I let go of Ethan and picked up a bin - with a great deal of effort I threw it at the window, thankfully clear of bugs, which shattered into tiny pieces, showering myself and the floor in an unpleasant rain of glass. A loud alarm filled the streets as the bin rolled to a stand-still in the first aisle.

“Come on, Ethan!” I screamed as I jumped through the freshly made opening. He followed me in but I believe he only did so because he was following a command. I’m pretty sure he didn’t really know what he was actually doing right now. His brain in a million different places, grief, and shock, clearly etched onto his tired looking face. I feel bad for him but now isn’t the time to grieve - a point made even more clear when I realised the spiders were heading in our direction. “Quickly, this way!”

I led the way down the first aisle, various canned products, until we were at the back of the shop. The back wall was lined with small freezers, which stored different microwave meals and frozen puddings of differing sorts. Against the far wall I saw what I was looking for - the exit point which would take us to the back stock rooms. As I led him down the back wall of the shop I opened all of the freezer doors, that I could, in an effort to cool the air around us. Another quick look behind us and it could be that his theory, about the heat, was right. The spiders weren’t as quick to follow. If anything they seemed to slow down their pace. Are they that quick to react to hot and cold? Even the slightest temperature drop?

The side exit opened with no issues - something I was thankful for as a part of me feared the shop owners may have kept it locked during the hours in which the branch was closed to the public. Once out the back, I closed the door behind Ethan and looked from side to side. To my left was piled up boxes of product, used to fill the shelves and, to my right, was exactly what I was looking for - a large walk-in freezer where the frozen products were stocked when there wasn’t enough room in the various displays.

I pulled Ethan towards it and opened the door with a sharp tug of the long, metal handle. The door opened and the cold air instantly hit us both. “In here!” I ordered him as I stepped inside.

I didn’t close the door behind us for fear of getting trapped inside. I went as far back as I could, turned around and waited to see if any spiders came for us. There was nothing, though. Thankfully. I slumped down to my knees, tired by the sudden burst of energy. My body was struggling with the heat, lack of proper rest and food - a sudden run was not what I needed right now. I glanced up at Ethan who just looked lost.

“Are you okay?” I asked. He didn’t answer me. “Ethan!” I called out. His eyes fixed upon mine. “Are you okay?” I asked him again - even though I knew the answer was obviously going to be along the lines of ‘no’.

He shook his head, “I can’t stay here,” he said, “I need to go back. They’re probably wondering where I am. Probably scared that I just ran off and left them...”

The dazed expression, the way he was speaking, I could tell that he was in shock. He went to leave the confines of the walk-in freezer but stopped when I grabbed his arm.

“You can’t go out there!” I said in a stern voice.

“But they need me...”

I just wanted to shout at him that they were dead. I just wanted to shout that it was too late. I couldn’t bring myself to do it though. He was already broken and that might have sent him over the edge, if he isn’t already over it.

“They’re safe,” I told him. I wasn’t sure if lying was the best course of action or whether I’d be making matters worse but...Well, it just came out of my mouth. I continued my deceit, “I saw them in the car - they were okay. They had the windows wound up, nothing could get in there.” I felt bad for him - first his wife and now his children - but there was nothing we could do about it now. Going outside now would be nothing short of suicidal.

“They’re safe?” he said. A sound of relief in his voice.

I nodded, unable to say the words again.

“And so are we. Your theory was right. The spiders don’t like the cooler temperature. We can just wait here until the evening when it gets cooler. And then, we can make a move.”

“With my daughters?”

Another nod to save myself the lie. I’ll worry about what to say to him later, when the time calls for it. In the meantime, I just need to keep us both out of harm’s way and if that means bending the truth then so be it.

“We’ll just wait here. If you get too cold - we can step into the corridor for a couple of seconds and come back in again before we get too warm,” I instructed him. The fact the spiders haven’t even followed us into the actual back area of the shop speaks volumes as to how reliant they are on heat - and maybe even sunshine. They probably stopped chasing when we got to the freezer area, in the main shop, and retreated back to the safety of the outside world - which was, once again, melting in ridiculous heatwave.

I only hope the military doesn’t reach this far with their plan. To die by spider or explosion. It would be a tough decision to call. Worry about it when the explosions sound closer. At the moment, they seem to have stopped. Maybe because the planes are base-bound, to get more ammunition or maybe because they’ve finished their detail. Regardless, I’ll keep listening out.

Ethan sank to his knees and started to weep. I didn’t say anything, even though I felt as though I should have. Part of me wondered whether he was slowly coming to terms with what had happened to his children whilst another part of me considered that he could just now be grieving for the wife he lost. Poor guy.

Slowly I reached across and put my hand on his shoulder. He titled his head and rested the side of his face against my hand. I felt a little awkward but didn’t move away. If it helps him, leave him be.

When he made no signs of moving, I positioned myself closer to him and put my arm around his shoulder, “Here, come here,” I said as I pulled him close to my chest. He reached around my back with his arm and held me tight. Good for both of us - sharing warmth and comfort. He continued to weep like a lost child.

If only he were still a child. I find it easy comforting frightened children when I’m working in the school. I find it a lot more awkward when it’s someone who is not only fully grown but someone who had been so instrumental in helping me stay safe. A selfish part of me wishes he’d revert back to that kind of man; strong bodied and strong minded. And then, in the back of my mind, another part of me wished that I had never left the camp with him in the first place.

Had I not, I’d still be safe now. I mean, they wouldn’t be dropping bombs near themselves and, the air-conditioning units in the tents, whether intentional or not, would keep the spiders away.

“I’m sorry,” said Ethan as he pulled himself away from me, wiping the tears from his face. Probably a wise move before they froze in place.

“It’s fine,” I reassured him, “I understand,” I continued even though there was no way I could understand what he had been through or how he must be feeling. Yes, there was a part of me which feared I had lost my family but I didn’t have to witness it first hand and there was always a little ray of hope that they’d be okay. Especially now I knew the spiders don’t like the lower temperatures. Now I know that, or at least now we think we know that, there’s a good chance my family - back in my hometown - have no idea how bad it is down here with regards to the spiders. They’ve probably just heard about an infection and that people are getting evacuated. In fact, if anyone is worrying within my family, they’re probably sat at home worrying about me.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” Ethan whispered. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never really known. I’m sorry for bringing you out here. I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be,” I said, despite that little part of me wishing I hadn’t gone with him, “look what we’ve discovered. That information could help put a stop to this and, regardless, it shows that when the weather changes - well, everything will change. The spiders will just die...If we hadn’t left the camp - would we have discovered that? Would anyone have put two and two together...”

“At the cost of my entire family,” he said.

I looked into his eyes, seemingly black in colour now. I guess he realised his children were....gone....now. Even so, I skipped past what he said as I figured it was the best thing to do - considering I had lied to him only what felt like minutes earlier.

“We just need to wait until it gets cooler outside, like I suggested, and then we should go back to the camp. The explosions have stopped now but they might start again - if they do...Well, they won’t be doing it on their own camp, will they? We should just go back, tell them what we know...They can pass the information on to the relevant people and then - that’s it....We stick with them for however long this mess takes to sort out and then go from there. The country will get on its feet again...”

“But who is to blame?” he asked. “Who needs to answer for this?”

I shrugged.

“Whoever caused this - they killed my family...”

“I’m sorry,” I told him. And I was. I didn’t know who was to blame, though. My day started just as his had presumably started - a trip to work on just another seemingly normal day and then all Hell broke loose. I was as much in the dark as he was. To be honest, I don’t think I even care as to how it started. I just want it to be done with. Finished. He looked as though he wanted to start crying again so I changed the subject back to what we should do when we leave here, “You can wait here, tonight, and I’ll run out the front...I’ll try and find us a car. The fact that there are cars abandoned all over the place; one of them must have a key left in the ignition...Once I have it, I’ll come back here...Sound the horn...”

“I’ll go,” he said.

“No - you’ve done enough. Let me.” I didn’t really want to act the heroine here but I figured my mind was in a better place than his. After all, did he really care if he lived or died now? A bit presumptuous I know but if I were in his position - I know I wouldn’t be bothered if I died. Not if it meant being with my family again. I kept my thoughts to myself - I didn’t want to go putting any ideas into his head. “Just as soon as it cools a little,” I said.

I fretted about how much a ‘little’ was. Was it really a case of a couple of degrees cooler or did it have to cool down a lot? Some of the nights, recently, have been just as stifling as the daytime. There was no answer to this. The only way I’d be able to tell was to put a brave face on and venture out. I’ll stick to the areas I know are definitely cooler, to start with, like next to the freezers. From there I can keep an eye out for anything which may be moving. The slightest hint of danger and I’ll run back here. Already my heart was beating at a speed which hurt. Try not to think about it yet. Try and get some rest.

Easier said than done - especially as the store’s alarm is still ringing in my ears; an irritating high pitched squeal. I wish I knew how to deactivate it.

I leaned my back against the cold metal shelving unit of the freezer and flinched from the coolness of it.

“Here,” said Ethan. He positioned himself against the shelving unit and invited me to lean into his arm, an invitation I gladly accepted. He still doesn’t seem to be himself but I’m grateful for the fact he seems to be a little more aware of what is happening after his funny turn - a turn which I understood...I think, if he hadn’t reacted in some way to what had happened, I’d be more concerned. We perched there, on the floor of the freezer, for a few more minutes. The annoying shriek of the alarm starting to get blocked from my hearing as my brain got more used to hearing it and tried its best to filter it out for me. “Do you think it hurts?” Ethan suddenly asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The bite. When someone is bitten. Do you think it hurts?”

I didn’t know what to say. I remember the look on the faces of the school children - the ones who weren’t pulled to safety in time by the soldiers. The children who were bitten. Their faces were contorted in such a way they looked as though they were in extreme agony. Never before had I witnessed such expressions and I hope to God that I never have to see them again.

“It looks as though it hurts....” Ethan continued. Clearly a conversation he wanted to have.

“I don’t know,” I said. After a slight pause I continued with my honest opinion, “I think...I think that the people are dead as soon as the bite occurs. I think their faces change...They look to be in pain...But I think that’s just because of what is happening...Under the surface.” I was trying to choose my words carefully so as not to cause him further upset but felt myself failing on every level. I was never supposed to be a counsellor. I had never taken any training for it and didn’t relish the newfound position I seemed to be in. “They’re just moving because of...the changes they’re going through...”

He changed the subject, as though he was never really listening to my answers, “Where do you think they are from? Do you believe it’s some kind of military experiment gone wrong?”

“It makes sense,” I told him, “where else could they have come from? If they weren’t some kind of experiment...Surely we would have heard about them before? You know - in whatever country they originated from.”

“But what if they came from an island. A small island in the middle of nowhere with only a few tribesmen living there? The island would have been decimated. There’d be no-one left to tell the tale.”

“But that wouldn’t explain how they came to our country,” I told him. I didn’t say anything else, I just hoped that he’d try and get some rest - and allow me the opportunity to get some rest too, especially as I had to get myself mentally prepared to venture out in a couple of hours to try and find us a ride.

“Maybe they have an anti-venom,” he said. His brain was clutching at straws. Wishful thoughts which we both knew weren’t likely to come true. A desperate hope that his family could still be saved despite knowing they were already dead. It wasn’t my place to say anything. Besides, I believe he knew the likelihood just as much as I did. What makes it even more tragic, this whole situation, is that we’d probably never know how it originated. “You didn’t hear the soldiers talk about anything else?” he asked. “Did they have any other plans? Were people supposed to just wait at the camp? There must have been more of a plan than that...There must have been another idea up their sleeves other than just to take as many people away from the situation as possible and hide them in some remote camp until everything settles down!”

“I’m sorry - I didn’t hear anything,” I said. I just wished he leave it alone now. I tried my best not to get upset with him. I tried my best to keep a level head and remain calm but I felt myself struggling. This whole situation, what I had witnessed...Everything...I felt as though it was all becoming too much for me. All I wanted to do was to break down in tears and wait for someone to come and rescue me. Someone to tell me that everything was going to be okay and mean it.

“You saw what the people were getting like at the camp - some of them at least. Tempers were high. The soldiers wouldn’t be able to keep them there for long, not without answers. They must have said something else too. They must have!”

“They didn’t!” I started to cry but he didn’t seem to care. A coldness in him born out of grief.

He continued regardless, “Although getting as many people away seemed to be a wise move. The spread of spiders was less obvious. If they had left the people in the cars, waiting in the long queues...If the spiders had got to them the infestation would have been fast...Certainly too fast to get away from. Maybe they do know what they’re doing.” He fell silent; a silence that I hoped would last. “You know,” he continued, dashing my hopes, “I always wanted to emigrate. Always fancied living in Australia. You know, take my family out there. Start again. I like the people. I like the atmosphere. It’s relaxed, you know. Chilled. Everyone seems friendly - at least in the parts I visited years ago. It’s the spiders, though. And I’m not just talking about the poisonous ones. I mean, despite the fact they can cause severe pain and maybe even kill you...They’re quite small to look at. It’s spiders like the huntsman that put me off. Size of dinner plates. I had a bad enough time removing spiders from my house in this country. I think I’d honestly die of shock if I went into my shower room only to be confronted by one of those things...Australians. Balls of steel.”

“I don’t mind the big spiders,” I said. “I mean...up until these last few days I didn’t actually mind spiders but...before all this, I mean, the big spiders are okay because you can see them. You know where they are. It’s the smaller ones that I don’t like. They just vanish. One minute they’re there and the next they’ve disappeared. Or you only know they’re there when they touch your skin - dropping down from the ceiling, or something like that...But I guess we’ll be wary of anything with eight legs after this.” If we survive this. I felt Ethan shift underneath my weight. “Sorry, did you want me to move?”

“It’s fine,” he said.

* * * * *

Unlike Ethan, I hadn’t managed to sleep at all. Not even a stolen nap.

I couldn’t take my eyes away from the open freezer doorway, nervous of the rising temperature on the digital display. No longer in the negative. 9 degrees now. I think it’s safe to say the food in here is ruined now. Like the rest of the country. Broken.

I couldn’t entirely block out the shop’s alarm. Partly because I couldn’t stop from straining to hear if the explosions started again - worried that, not only would they resume but they’d be closer.

I stood up and stepped out of the freezer and into the corridor. I was ready to turn back, in a hurry, if I needed to. It was quite dark in the corridor, illuminated by emergency exit signs only, and I couldn’t see anything. Checking the corners of the ceiling, there was nothing. At least - there appeared to be nothing.

“Do you see anything?” Ethan asked. I must have disturbed him when I moved off his arm. I looked at him and shook my head. He was rubbing some life back into his numb limb. “No? So where are they? They can’t just disappear when it’s cooler. They must go somewhere!”

“I’m going to find a car.”

He climbed to his feet, moaning in the process - the coldness of the room having got into his joints just as it had got into mine. “Wait,” he said, “I’m coming with you. We need to stick together.”

I should have argued with him. Should have told him to stay behind and wait for me to return. I didn’t, though. The best intentions of letting him rest up, for a change, whilst I ran around putting myself in the line of fire just as he had done for me earlier had gone out of the window. I was grateful he offered to come. Two pairs of eyes were better than one and we had a better chance of survival if we stuck together - even if he did suddenly have any suicidal urges. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to put me in danger. I nodded as he stepped into the corridor and joined me by my side.

“Ready?” I asked.

He nodded.

I cautiously walked down the corridor, back towards the shop’s floor. Every couple of steps I felt as though something caught my eye but every time I looked there was nothing there except another shadow cast by one of the many products on the metal shelving units which lined the wall. As per Ethan’s cautionary words of advice I kept away from the shelves though just in case there was something lurking there behind one of the products.

Ethan pushed in front of me and took the lead despite knowing that I wanted to do this for us. I couldn’t help but think that he did this for selfish reasons as opposed to actually being a gentleman. Perhaps he was ready to sacrifice himself if anything came running towards us- to give me the time he thought I’d need to get away? I’m not sure. Regardless, he was in front now and I wasn’t about to argue with him.

I watched as he twisted the door handle which separated us from the main part of the shop. I could have sworn that I had left that open. Must be on a spring, or something. Probably closed when we were hiding in the freezer room - the noise of the closing door drowned out by the ever present, and irritating, alarm ringing loudly. I’ll be glad to be away from this store. The noise was enough to drive anyone insane. He looked at me before he gently pushed the door open. I waited for him to give us the all clear.

“Anything?” I asked.

A slight delay before he stepped onto the shop floor. I could do nothing but follow, despite not knowing for sure that the coast was clear.

D A Y    T H R E E

R U I N E D

The majority of the freezers were still open. They had defrosted. The products within appeared soggy. Definitely ruined. Small puddles of cold water on the tiled floor of the shop. Slippery underfoot.

“I can’t see anything,” he said. “Can you?”

I looked down the aisles, as we walked by them, and shook my head. Had they even chased us into the shop? I could see outside. A darkness had swallowed up the once blue sky as night-time settled in. I could feel, on my bare arms, that the temperature had dropped significantly. Still warm but not hot. If this was any other day, you’d think it pleasant. Any other day. If only.

“Look!” Ethan pointed to the corner of the store, up by the window. We both froze. There, right in the corner, was a large ball of spiders all of which were huddled together.

“What are they doing?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Keeping warm perhaps?” He took a can from the shelf, next to where he was standing, and threw it - as hard as he could - at the ball of spiders.

“What are you doing?” I screamed. When you see a hornets’ nest, you don’t start poking it with a stick. You walk the other way. This is what we should have been doing. I prepared myself to run but didn’t need to. The can connected with the ball of spiders but they didn’t scatter as I thought they were going to. Instead, the spiders on the outer of the circle dropped to the floor - dead. But they didn’t die from the can hitting them. They had already been dead.

The spiders formed a tighter circle and I watched, in amazement, as the spiders on the outer part of the circle seemed to shake and suddenly wither up, folding themselves into tight little balls with their legs tucked under their body.

“The ones on the outside are dead?” I asked.

“It would appear so,” he said. But, yet, they’re somehow keeping the others warm.”

I didn’t bother asking how. He knew as little as I did.

“At least we know we’re safe for now,” he said. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was disappointed. “Come on,” he urged me out of the shop, all the time keeping an eye on the spider ball. Outside he turned to me, “They must shelter like that, just before the temperature drops, and then stay like that until the temperature rises again. At least we know why we didn’t see many of them when we were driving away from the camp,” he continued. All guesses, of course, but it did make sense.

“We need to go back to the camp,” I told him. “We need to tell them what we know. It might be important.”

He nodded, “I know.” I could tell from his expression that he was as apprehensive as I was about returning to the camp. I only hoped that the soldier wouldn’t remember what we looked like. I mean, what are the chances? The amount of people coming into the camp - he couldn’t remember all our faces, surely? “Over there,” he nodded towards a car, parked up by the side of the road. Together we hurried over to it. Straight away I knew it wouldn’t do the trick though. It hadn’t been abandoned. It looked as though it had been carefully parked up. Not like other cars we had passed on by whilst being on the roads. Naturally, when we got there, the doors were locked. “Fuck!” he shouted. He looked around for another car.

“We need to find one in the road. One that was left in the traffic jam when the army started to take people,” I told him. “Chances are, the keys will still be in the ignition if the car has just been abandoned. People getting snatched up by the army, with the promise of safety, probably wouldn’t be in too much of a hurry to lock their cars up.”

He paused and looked around. “Makes sense,” he said. “Okay, there were some cars in this direction.” He started to walk back the way we had originally driven down. He walked straight past what had been our car. I watched him. He went straight past it, without looking in its direction. I wish I had been as strong. The sight of his daughter, crushed between vehicles, with her body broken by the impact and the birthing of the spiders will haunt me forever. I didn’t look in the back of the car. I felt like I should have said something to him but I couldn’t. What could I say? Nothing would have brought them back. Nothing would have taken the pain away. Nothing could be done. It would just hurt him. The fact he walked past without looking - just showed how strong he was. What happened in the freezer, just after the accident, a slight wavering but he’s back on track now? I hope so.

He took the lead down the road, in the direction in which we had originally come as we both knew we had recently passed by some abandoned cars. And - more importantly maybe - we’re heading in the opposite direction to where the explosions had been coming from. We stuck to the middle of the road - just as we had done when we walked to his house earlier in the day. It made sense as it was easy to see things coming at us - although we both suspected we were safe from the spiders. At least, for now.

Over the hill - cars parked in the distance. Abandoned really.

“Promising,” Ethan said. More to himself really but I still found myself agreeing with him. We quickened the pace, again following his lead. Neither of us had thought through what would happen if we didn’t find a car with the key in the ignition, or close-by at least. I mean, it had crossed my mind but...I tried to put it out again.  The camp was miles away. Too far for us to walk to before sunrise anyway - there was no way we’d make it. Not before...Don’t think about it.

We reached the first few cars. I skipped to the second car whilst Ethan looked into the first.

“Nothing!” he called out.

“Nor here,” I replied when I realised that the second car was locked up. If only one of us had the necessary skills to hot-wire a vehicle - a dodgy trait which would definitely have come in handy right about now.

Ethan hurried past me, towards the third car. In turn I overtook him and ran towards the fourth; a hint of desperation obvious from my hurried paces as panic started to set in. How hard would it be to hot-wire a car? I thought. Perhaps we should just cut our losses and have a...

“Here!” he called out. “There are keys.”

I looked up to see if he meant it or whether he was playing a cruel joke. I knew, deep down, that this wouldn’t have been the case but...I don’t know what’s what anymore. He waved me over. I didn’t need a second invitation and rushed over. I instantly froze when I caught sight of what was on the other side of the glass windows. Two bodies. One in the driver’s seat and one in the passenger’s. Male and female. The female was in the driver’s seat. Both of them had the same contorted, twisted expressions on their faces. Victims of a bite.

Ethan opened the car door, on the driver’s side, and the girl slumped out - onto the hard concrete road. He jumped back as though he expected something to come spilling out, along with the body. I automatically knew what he was worried about. Didn’t take a genius. Even less of a genius was needed considering I was worrying about the very same thing.

“They might be in there,” I told him.

“Open the passenger door,” he ordered me. I didn’t wait to be asked a second time. I opened the door and the top half of the second body slipped out. The whole thing would have come out, like the other body, had it not been for the legs being trapped in the footwell. “Just give him a tug,” Ethan said. I looked at him with a horrified look on my face - hoping that he would notice and take hold of the body himself - but he wasn’t paying me any attention. He was too busy peering into the car - carefully looking for any traces of spiders.

“They’re tiny,” I told him, “what if they are under the seats?”

He shook his head, “You saw them in the shop. They were grouped together. A ball that size, it wouldn’t fit underneath the seat...It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. It was reckless. He jumped into the driver’s seat and twisted the key in the ignition. With minimum fuss, the engine spat into life. “Come on,” he said.

I looked around. I don’t know why. Perhaps a quick check up and down the road to see if there were any better options on the horizon. There were more cars. Maybe we could have found one which hadn’t been home to an infestation attack? I went to voice my opinion but was drowned out before I could even start.

“Do you want to come or not?” he asked. “Just drag the body out and leave it in the road. This is our best shot. You know it is.” Was it? The more time I spend with him, the more I’m starting to realise that my best shot was to have stayed behind in the camp. Yes, we have potentially made an important discovery which may help people but...what use is knowledge if you’re dead before you can share it? He revved the engine - an act of impatience as opposed to keeping the car from stalling. Another quick look around. There was no one else to be seen. If I stayed, I knew I wouldn’t survive. Not alone. We needed to stay together no matter how odd some of the decisions may have appeared. Two pairs of eyes are still better than one. Besides - he was in the car - nothing had bitten him yet. I don’t think they’re picky as to who they bite and who they ignore. I took hold of the deceased person’s arm and gave them an almighty tug, pulling them free of the car. A funny little squeal escaped my throat when I released him and he slumped to the floor. It doesn’t matter how many bodies I’ve seen over the last couple of days - it’s something I’ll never get used to. And I don’t want to either. The moment I become cold to it is the moment I’ve lost my humanity. “Come on,” he continued pushing me, “it’s fine - get in the car. We need to get going.” I peered into the front, where I was about to sit. I then peered into the back. Both areas seemed clear as far as I could tell. Ethan let out a heavy sigh as I lowered myself into the passenger’s seat. I’m not sure if it was relief or exasperation. Before I had even closed the door, the car started to move - a quick three-point turn, using the whole of the available road space, so we could head off in the direction of the camp.

I looked into the rear-view mirror. More specifically, I looked at the wreckage from our earlier transportation. It was getting smaller and smaller as we began to put distance between it and us. I shot Ethan a look. He still hadn’t looked back.

As he navigated the cars, all parked in a row, I couldn’t help but ask him whether he thought the soldiers at the camp would remember us. His answer, “Probably”, didn’t fill me with much confidence. But how mad would they likely be if we go to them with the key to putting everything right again? Surely a get out of jail free card. I hope.

* * * * *

I woke with a start. A bad dream. I’m surprised I dozed off, let alone had an actual dream. I wish I hadn’t, though. I feel as though my body is coated in sweat.

“You okay?” Ethan asked. I looked over at him, still in the driving seat. He was concentrating on the road in front of us. It was pitch black outside now. Full headlight beams illuminated our path. Some country road that I didn’t recognise. “You were making some strange noises,” he continued.

“Sorry,” I said. I’m not sure why I was apologising. I couldn’t help the noises I made during my sleep. It’s not as though I was doing it intentionally. “I must have dozed off.”

“Out like a light a few miles back,” he pointed out. “Haven’t seen you sleep properly so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I wish you had.”

“Bad dream?”

“Yes,” I said - keeping my answer short. It wasn’t the sort of dream I wanted to relive by telling him all about it. I just wanted my brain to forget about it - like it did with most dreams that I had, soon after waking. I had a bad feeling my brain wasn’t going to let me forget these images though. A bad dream featuring the kids that I saw die, back in the school. The sounds of the screams. The orders from the soldiers, trying to get those who hadn’t been bitten out into safety. Images of dead children forever burnt into my subconscious. My brain won’t ever let me forget that, even if it wanted to. When one has seen Hell, how does one put it out of mind? You don’t. “Where are we?” I asked him. I hoped that a different angle of conversation would at least distract my mind from the horrors that it was trying to play back to me.

“About ten miles from the camp. I think. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t really paying attention when we left. I just wanted to get out of there. Think this is the right way though.

Comforting! I thought.

“Any signs of...Anything?” I asked. I didn’t just mean signs of the spiders. I meant human life too. All this traveling and we’d hardly seen anyone on the road. It was as if they had all long since fled - either snatched up by the military or by their own method. Either that or they were dead and we just hadn’t looked close enough to see their corpses. Not that I needed to see anymore death.

“In the last town,” he said, “I saw some of the spiders. They were formed into balls, next to property windows, just as they had been back in that shop. Definitely their way of keeping warm.” He paused. “No other people though. On the plus side,” he quickly changed the subject, “I haven’t seen any evidence of recent bombings so...That’s good, right?”

“I guess.” I took a deep breath. “I’m scared.” It was the first time I had said it out loud. The first time I had admitted to someone, anyone, that I was actually frightened. It actually felt good to get it off my chest, despite knowing he couldn’t really do anything to make me feel any better. I didn’t expect him to say, or do, anything either. I just wanted it heard.

“So am I,” he admitted. I wonder if he felt the same amount of relief that I had felt with my confession.

“What do you think they’ll do?” I asked.

“The army?”

I nodded, “Yes.”

“I don’t know.” He went quiet again as though thinking through all of the different possible outcomes. I watched his face intently - trying to see a flicker of hope in his expression...Trying to see if any of his possible outcomes included a happy ending.

There was no glimmer of hope.

“They’ll be able to pass the information on though, won’t they? I mean...It will help?” I just wanted a little reassurance from him that we were doing the right thing. Even if it meant he had to lie to me. I’d be happy with a lie right about now.

“I don’t know,” he said again. Way to reassure a girl. He yawned and shook his head.

“Want me to drive?” I offered.

“No, thank you. It’s fine. We’re nearly there.” He shifted in his seat as though he was getting himself a little more comfortable before concentrating on the final leg of the journey.

We both fell into an uncomfortable silence. Hard to tell what he was thinking but I was worrying about what kind of reception was going to greet us back at the camp. I looked out of the window and concentrated on the passing scenery in an effort to think about something else. Rows and rows of trees and bushes with blackness between them which made it hard to make out anything else.

“I think you should stay in the car,” said Ethan, after a couple more minutes of silence, “when we get to the camp.”

“Oh?” Clearly he had been using the uncomfortable silence to consider our welcoming committee too.

“Just until we know how they receive us. The way tempers were flaring, when we left, I just want to be safe...Make sure no one holds a grudge.”

I hesitated and then tried to rest his mind, just as I had hoped he’d have rested mine for me earlier when I needed calming, “They probably won’t even remember us,” I told him. “The amount of people they see, I’m sure they won’t remember two faces...” What I was saying may have been true if I hadn’t been the one helping them out by taking names of people who were new to the camp. Had I just blended into the background, like other survivors, it would have been easier to slip back in unnoticed - or, at least, pretend to be new people who just happened to stumble across the camp in the middle of nowhere. “We’re not even in the same vehicle,” I continued. “I think we’ll be okay.”

“Even so, just wait in the car. Anything goes wrong - just get out of there. Avoid the cities in case they try and flatten any more of them. Stick to the country roads. Head up north where it’s cooler and then start spreading the word about the heat being required for their survival...Okay?”

I nodded. With all the rubbish that’s been happening recently - I can’t believe we’re worried about interacting with fellow survivors as much as we’re worried about running into spiders.

“I’m not going to just leave you...” I went to say that there was no way I’d abandon him there and just drive off if he got into trouble but he cut me off...

“Yeah, you will. You have to. We’ll park up when we’re closer and swap seats. You can drive us in. I’ll get out and talk to them. You see trouble - you just drive off. I’ll be fine,” he said.

I still didn’t agree with what he was saying. If the shoe were on the other foot, I didn’t believe that he would just leave me there. He’d come for me. After all, he took me away from the camp in the first place and, although a little trouble had kicked off, it would have been safe to stay there. He just took me away on the off-chance that something was going to happen. I paused. At least, that’s why I thought he had originally plucked me from the site. Did he do it for his own selfish reasons? He didn’t want to be alone? I looked at him again. His expression was cold and emotionless. Was it always like that? Have I only just noticed it, since the accident with his children, yet it was always there? I tried to shake it out of my mind. Not sure what my brain is trying to do to me or why it even feels as though something like that is important now. It’s not as though I can turn the clock back and refuse to go with him. Besides some good came from leaving. I shook my head again. It’s just my brain trying to find an excuse to ditch him, if need be. Any little thread of a reason to grasp onto. Anything to numb the feeling of unease should it come to driving away from him.

We pulled to the side of the road.

“Okay,” said Ethan, “I’m pretty sure the camp is around the corner so let’s swap seats. You can drive us in. Park near the exit, facing away, and I’ll head up to talk to whoever is in charge. You watch in the rear-view mirror. And I mean it, any trouble, just get out of there. Understand?”

I nodded.

“It’ll be fine,” he said. No doubt he could sense my discomfort. “It’s just a precaution.”

“I know,” I answered.

He opened the door and climbed from the driver’s seat, with the engine still running. I, too, did the same from the seat I had been sat in. A quick exchange and I was in the driver’s seat and he was in the passenger’s.

“Kill the headlights,” he said. I looked at him. He really was worried about the possible outcome of this meeting. He was leaving nothing to chance. I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew something that I hadn’t foreseen. Regardless, I turned the headlights off. “Okay. Ready?”

I responded by putting my foot down, gently, on the accelerator. We accelerated to a steady speed as I slipped the gear stick up through the gears until we were in top gear. I was never the best night-time driver and the lack of light, illuminating my path, made me even more nervous. Just as he had predicted, a couple of miles around the next corner, was the entrance to the camp. It stuck out like a sore thumb with lights, from the various tents, shining into the black night sky.

“Pull in, do a three-sixty and I’ll jump out,” he said. He sounded remarkably cool considering all of the precautions he was taking to try and keep me safe. I did as he clearly instructed and pulled into the field before doing a three hundred and sixty degree turn so that I was facing the exit again. I pulled the car to a standstill and he jumped out. He leaned back in to talk to me, “Remember...”

“I know. Go. Be careful.”

I didn’t want to watch him as he walked up towards the soldiers that I noticed were standing on the horizon. I kept an eye on the rear-view mirror as instructed, the engine running so I could make my speedy getaway if required. All the time I kept thinking...I should have gone. I should have gone. Sure, we could be in trouble for how we left the camp but the fact that I had helped them when I originally got there...It might have been enough to do a little damage control? Certainly more chance than he had considering the fact he had come to the camp under such a dark cloud to begin with!

The soldiers had spotted him. I was able to tell they were soldiers due to their silhouettes; large, men - obviously people who had gone through a strict training regime - and weapons slung over their shoulders, like the rifle we had taken earlier and subsequently left behind. They have spotted him. They’re running towards him. Maybe surprised to see a survivor approach the camp unaided? Maybe they’re running to make sure he isn’t bitten...Wait. No. One of the soldiers has pulled his rifle from his shoulder and is aiming it at Ethan. Ethan has instinctively, I guess anyway, raised his hands in the air to show he isn’t a threat. I should go. I can’t though. Nothing has happened yet. This could just be for show - let them know they are in charge. This is their territory. Suddenly another soldier ran up to Ethan and hit him. I’m not sure whether it was with his fist or whether he hit him with the butt of a gun. It was hard to tell at this distance, and in this light. Regardless, I jumped as it was unexpected. I swiveled around in the driver’s seat, to get a better look of what was going on by looking directly out of the back window. Eyes distracted by something previously unseen in the corner of the parcel shelf though, directly underneath the window. A small ball of spiders, gently pulsating. I’m not sure whether it’s from the car’s engine throbbing underneath them or whether this was normal. I screamed and jumped from the car. A few degrees warmer in there and they could have re-hatched, or whatever they do, and killed us both.

I slammed the car door, just in case they did suddenly hatch into a frenzied, dangerous life again and stepped away from the car. Voices in the distance. I turned to them. Some  of the group who had intercepted Ethan were running towards me. Others were kicking Ethan whilst he was already sprawled out on the floor. They remember us alright. Shit! Shit! Shit! I turned towards the trees, next to the field we had turned into. I wouldn’t be able to outrun them if I ran back onto the road but I did have a chance of losing them amongst the trees - especially with darkness on my side and careful, quiet footsteps if they did happen to get close.

Voices telling me not to fucking move. I ignored them as I ran towards the trees. A few steps only before I suddenly froze to the spot, horrified by what I had noticed. On some of the closer trees - balls of spiders. At least six balls going by what I could see in this light and at a quick glance. No doubt there’d be more spiders the deeper into the woods I went. Panic rushed through me along with sickness. I bent over and vomited onto the grass. Footsteps closer behind me. I turned to the soldiers ready to beg them for help, ready to tell them why we had come back, to warn them about the spiders in the car and on the trees if they hadn’t already seen them - and I was guessing they hadn’t.

“Get on the fucking floor!” one of the soldiers shouted. I didn’t recognise him from when I had been at the camp earlier. I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. His gun was raised to my face.

“Don’t shoot!” I shouted; my hands also raised as though they had the ability to stop any possible bullets from hitting my petrified body. I dropped to my knees. “We’re not bitten!” I told them, hoping they’d be a little more pleasant with their greeting techniques. I warned them about the spiders in the back of the car and, the soldier who was aiming his gun at me still, instructed his colleague to deal with it.

“Get the fuck up,” the soldier barked at me. His gun still aimed at my head. Slowly I got to my knees. “Walk!” he ushered me in the direction of Ethan and the rest of the soldiers who had made up our welcoming committee.

“We need to speak to whoever is in charge,” I told the soldier as he began to push me in the direction I was already walking - perhaps in a hurry for me to join Ethan who was still on the floor with the other soldiers surrounding him. A loud explosion from behind me made me jump. I glanced back, still walking forward thanks to the shoves I was receiving. Our car had gone up in smoke. The soldier who did the damage was a few steps behind us, looking at the carnage he had caused whilst laughing and cheering at his effort. I turned my attention back in the direction I was headed. “We have some information,” I told him in an effort to kick start a conversation which may result in them being kinder and, perhaps, doing something about the chaos that’s hatching around us.

“Shut up,” he told me. As I neared Ethan, I was able to see - for the first time - other parts of the camp I couldn’t make out from down by the car. Small fires had broken out. There were bodies on the floor, piled up - mostly of civilians. Smashed windows on the vehicles parked up close to the main tents. Dark patterns splattered on the side of one of the closest tents to where I was. I could hear wailing from someone on the horizon - suddenly cut short by a loud crack which echoed through the night sky. It was clear that something very, very bad had happened here.

Next to Ethan now. The soldier, behind me, pushed me to the floor. Another soldier stepped in front of me. I looked up to him, ready to tell him that we had important information. His face clearly visible when he leaned down to talk to me, face to face.

“Welcome back!” he said. His voice low and sinister. The soldier we had earlier attacked in an effort to get away from the site.

“Please,” I said, “please...I’m sorry about the other day but...We have some information...It’s important.”

Ethan wheezed, “Don’t tell him. Look around. The place has gone to Hell...Fuck them. Let them go to Hell too...”

The soldier suddenly pulled a handgun from where it was tucked into his trousers. An expression on his face I had never seen on anyone before. He raised the gun. I shrieked and raised my hands to my face - again, my brain foolishly thinking they would save me. A loud crack rang through the air once more. Nervously, I pulled my hands away from my face. He had successfully made his point. I looked up, shaking. The soldier was staring me in the face, his expression had yet to change to a calmer look. The gun wasn’t aimed at me. It was aimed to his side. It was aimed...I followed the barrel and burst into tears.

Ethan. Eyes lifeless. Bullet in head.

The soldier was talking to me but I didn’t hear his words. I only heard my own but, even then, I don’t know what was actually coming from my mouth other than shouting, screaming, wailing, cursing. No words were heard. The gun barrel changed the direction it was aimed and pointed at my forehead. I heard my words then. “Fuck you.” A rage burning in me. If this is how quickly humanity changes, in the face of disaster - when they’re sure things can’t be fixed - I don’t wish to be a part of it. Nor do I wish to save it. The weather will change, in time, killing the spiders. I’m sure of that. But not before the spiders kill everyone here.

Soldier is still talking to me. I slowly start to hear him. Something about the easy way or the hard way. I didn’t answer him. He looked towards another soldier, standing close behind me out of my line of sight. I heard the second soldier step forward and turned to see....

D A Y    F O U R

T H E    E N D    O F    M Y    W O R L D

“Wake up.”

A cold liquid, presumed to be water, splashed me in my face. I opened my eyes and went to sit up. Couldn’t move though, not much at least. My legs tied by the ankle to each leg of an uncomfortable camp bed. Same with my wrists. Two soldiers were standing next to me. One had a bucket in his hand and a smile on his face. The second was the soldier who had killed Ethan. A panicked look around the room. One of the smaller tents. Air conditioning units dotted around, keeping if cool in here. A couple of other beds. Girls tied to them too. One looked my age. The other girl, crying, looked younger. Much younger. Whereas the girl, my age, was wearing underwear - the younger of the women was naked. Her clothes heaped on the floor where they had been carelessly tossed. Even though the older girl wasn’t crying - she still looked as though she feared for her life. Her eyes fixed on me. Perhaps it wasn’t my life she feared for.

“Focus on me,” the soldier said. I did as instructed. “What were you talking about? What information did you have?” I didn’t say anything. I just struggled against the belts which bound me in place, much to the soldiers’ amusement. “Good luck with that,” he laughed. “As you can see, since you were last here, there have been some changes. People were becoming a little restless, blaming us for what happened outside. Some of them started rioting and one thing led to another.” He turned to the second soldier, “You think it’s fair to say things escalated fairly rapidly?” The second soldier laughed again. I couldn’t help myself, I spat at them. The soldier sighed and slapped me in the face. The stinging lasted a few seconds and the initial hit was enough to bring a tear to my face. “Look around you,” he warned me, “you probably want to play nice. There’s about fifty men outside of this tent who have needs which need satisfying. Some of them are a little rougher than the others...Play ball and I’ll see to it that they behave themselves. Don’t play ball, I’ll let them in here one at a time and will continue to do so until you tell us whatever it is that you think is so important. Do you understand me?” I glanced over his shoulder towards the tent’s open doorway. Outside the sun was starting to come up. Another half an hour or so and it would be up fully. Hopefully raising the temperature to such a level that the spiders come from within their little huddle. To think, we came to save everyone from the spiders and now I was hoping they’d save me from the people. “I can’t hear you,” the soldier said - a lackluster way of trying to force an answer from me.

Another man, also dressed in uniform but older in appearance, walked into the tent. “Well?” he asked as he stepped over the threshold. The two soldiers turned to him. No saluting, as I had expected. I guess, now the end of the world is happening, all rules are thrown out. “What’s so important they decided to come back then?” he continued.

“She still hasn’t told us. Not long been awake.”

“Perhaps a lesson to be learnt here, boy. Start killing them after they’ve said what has needed to be said.” The soldier stopped at the foot of the bed and gave me the once over. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking but I didn’t like the ways his eyes undressed me. “You can make this so much easier on yourself,” he said. His voice was lower now. Lower than when he had spoken to the other soldiers at least. “Who knows - if the information is that good - we may even let you out of this tent. Trust me when I say you’ll probably be thankful for that.” I kept thinking about Ethan’s face. Before and after it had been penetrated by the bullet. They weren’t about to let me go. The soldier sighed and looked towards the man with the bucket in his hand still. He nodded towards the older of the two girls, on the beds opposite me. “It’s your lucky day,” he told him, “you get to jump the queue.” The man smiled broadly and dropped the bucket to the floor. The officer, at least I presume he was an officer, ordered the other soldier - the one who shot Ethan - out of the tent before he took a seat on the bed, next to where I was still squirming fruitlessly against the restraints. “Watch...” he told me. I didn’t want to but he twisted my head, with his overly large hands, so there was nowhere else that I could look. I whimpered in his grip.

The other soldier was next to the woman who was starting to panic. He pulled a knife from his belt and cut her bra top and knickers off with a quick flick of his wrist. Like me, she writhed with little point against her own restraints.

“Struggle as much as you want,” the soldier told her, “just makes me enjoy it that little bit more.”

She was begging for him to leave her be. Begging for me to tell them what I knew. Begging. I didn’t want to though. Even if I had, the soldier wouldn’t have stopped what he had so aggressively started with a quick rub and spit between her legs. It wouldn’t have stopped them from doing the same to me either. I knew, just from what they did to Ethan, that they couldn’t be trusted. The evil in the camp was worse than the evil nesting in the nearby trees. I just kept wishing for the sun to come out fully. The heat of the day to turn up to the required level. I knew we were safe in here, with the air-conditioning units, but if all Hell broke out beyond the tent...Both soldiers would run to see what was happening. From what I had seen of the spiders, and the amount of people out there ready to be infected once the first bite was made, I knew they wouldn’t survive.

The girl let out a cry of pain as the soldier penetrated her for the first time. The younger girl whimpered where she laid but otherwise did her best to stay quiet - no doubt worried that my lack of cooperation would get her some unwanted attention too.

“He is one of the more gentle of us too,” the soldier said. “Although I’m not sure if that is a good thing or not see...He can make it last for ages. The others, definitely harder and faster than this fine officer, they tend not to last as long. A thoroughly unpleasant experience, I should guess for a fine lady such as yourself, but at least it’s over quickly. Well, I say that, just because they are done - it doesn’t mean there isn’t a dozen or so more officers outside who are ready to fill the gap left, so to speak. Come on, you say you have something important to tell us...So, tell us. I promise, I’ll get you out of this tent if you tell us. If fact, I won’t even leave it at you. These two ladies can leave with you. How’s that? A fair compromise?”

The woman getting the unwanted attention was begging for me to tell the man what I knew - fooled into believing him due to what she was currently going through. He wasn’t going to let us go though. I wish she could see that. It was in his eyes. The fact of the matter is, he was enjoying what he was putting us through. They all were. What happened outside, in the real world, just gave them an excuse to act how they really wanted. Deep, dark desires pushed to the surface when faced with death. If this was human nature, I wish I could have joined Ethan. I closed my eyes to stop from having to watch the woman on the other bed but the soldier forced them open again by holding my lids in place.

“You want to stop watching, you know what you have to do...”

“Fuck you!” I screamed.

He laughed. I’m not sure whether it was a genuine laugh or one to simply make me feel at unease. For all I knew, it could be both. “No,” he said, “fuck you!” Just as the other soldier had done, he pulled a knife from where it was fastened to his uniform. Instead of cutting my underwear off immediately, he placed the knife up against my throat. I swallowed hard and braced myself. He laughed again. “Not going to be that easy,” he said. The other soldier was groaning loudly, as though he was going to ejaculate. I looked across to the other woman as the officer, next to me, slit my underwear off with a flick of his wrist. She was watching me, trying her best to ignore the pain the soldier was causing her and trying to not make eye-contact. Perhaps even wishing she were me - at least until the officer started what he was gearing himself up to do. I looked back to him - his penis was in his hand. He was tugging at it, trying to make it stiffen up - something which he was clearly having troubles with. Despite my fear, I laughed in his face. He responded by throwing the knife down onto the floor and slapping me in my face - an open palm from his right hand, his left hand too busy. As he hit me again, I noticed through teary eyes that he was starting to harden. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he said.

I did my best to sound off with another fake laugh, “I’m not!” I told him. I was hoping my arrogant attitude would be enough to make him keep hitting me. I’d sooner take the hits than what he was threatening to do to me. If I was very lucky, he’d even take my consciousness from me.

“I sincerely hope that you don’t,” he said. He grabbed my breast with his free hand and squeezed it hard. I tried my best not to show any pain, or discomfort.

Suddenly a man screamed from outside. It was enough for the officer to look away from me, back towards the tent’s opening. The second soldier looked too, catching the eye of the officer in the process. “Don’t just stand there on show, take a look...” Another scream from someone else. And another. And another. More screaming. I couldn’t help but smile, despite knowing the danger, as I knew exactly what it was. A wave of relief washed through me. Not out of immediate danger but...However it comes, at this point, I’d welcome death.

Both soldiers jumped up. The other soldier pulled his trousers up whereas the officer simply tucked himself away and quickly did his flies up. Once ready, which took seconds, they both ran out of the exit. I looked across to the girls - both of whom still looked absolutely terrified.

“It’s going to be okay,” I told them.

I didn’t know how it was going to be okay. If anything, with what was happening outside, things would never be okay again. At least, not for us. For others, who have survived these past few days, things would be okay again. Just as soon as the weather gets a little colder.  As soon as it does, the spiders will just die out on their own. Worst case, maybe they’ll know what’s coming and just put themselves back into the ball shape they use to retain heat...If they do that, though, they won’t be spreading. People would be able to see them and destroy them before the summer comes around again. And, in this country, that could be many, many years. Some years, after all, we never see a summer’s day despite the month suggesting we should.

Gunfire and screaming outside now. The gunfire, and screams for that, are becoming less frequent. Just as I thought they would - the people are losing, unable to cope with the fast spread of the bites and the aggressiveness of the spider hatchlings. An obvious outcome. After all, they were quick to destroy cities and continue to spread. This camp would be nothing to them but a quick breeding ground.

I looked over to the air-conditioning unit, keeping the air cool enough to keep the spiders at bay, and breathed a sigh of relief. We just need to wait this out. Get out of these restraints and use one of the vehicles, outside, to get away from here. Get up North where it’s cooler. A plan Ethan and I should have just stuck with despite the risk of getting stuck, bitten, or even caught in friendly-fire on the way up there.

Suddenly the officer burst in through the tent’s opening. A spider on his neck. Terror in his eyes. He screamed as the spider used its final few seconds alive to bite the officer. He was already dead - just didn’t know it yet. The two girls, unaware that temperature is vital to the spider’s survival screamed too. I even began to panic as the officer started to groan and stumble his way towards me - the spiders already hatching from his blood cells which continued to course around his veins. I struggled against the restraints with little success of getting free. The officer hit my camp-bed and fell on top of me. His groaning face so close to my own screaming face. The other girls in the room also screaming loudly. I could do nothing but watch, in horror, as I could see the shape of the spiders under his skin...All of them moving around, all of them wanting to escape the confines of his body - none of them aware of the lack of required temperature. His limbs writhing around, like a man possessed, as more spiders hatched into life. And then it started to happen. They spilled from his mouth first. I could do nothing but close my own mouth to keep them from falling in. Thankfully, outside of his blood, they weren’t able to survive and were pretty much dead as soon as they left his mouth. It still didn’t stop me from trying to move away from where they landed. Something I was unable to do. They hit my cheek, and rolled off dead. They landed on my neck. They spilt from his nose as though a nosebleed of dead spiders. I couldn’t contain my scream any longer when his eyes started to bulge out towards me. Usually the spiders would climb past the eyes but, because they were dying too close to the opening, all that was happening was that they were beginning to back up. The more spiders that tried to come out - the further the eyes bulged until they suddenly popped out completely. I screamed again as the spiders started to fall from his black eye-sockets. A never-ending sea of dead arachnids dropping onto me. With all of my might, I used my whole body to try and shift his dead weight from on top of me. Nothing. He remained in place as the spiders continued to hatch from his corpse. I tried again and this time, thankfully, he rolled onto the floor. I didn’t even get a moment to breathe a sigh of relief as I watched, in horror, as his arm flopped to the side - more specifically next to the cable of the air-conditioning unit. A final flick of his finger, as the spiders moved from underneath his skin, and the cable was pulled from the unit.

“No...” I said out loud as the machine’s gentle humming slowed until it wasn’t making any further sounds. I started to cry as I struggled against my restraints. The girls on the other side still struggling against their own restraints. I stopped struggling a few minutes later and listened. Perhaps someone survived outside. Perhaps someone would come and get us...Another survivor if there were any others alive in the nearby tents? “Ssh...Wait a minute...” I said to the girls. “Listen...”

We all laid there, in silence. We all laid there, hoping...Listening out for a miracle.

All we heard were the patter of tiny feet on the canvas of the tent. I looked towards the open doorway and froze. So many spiders. Watching. Waiting. My heart raced as the temperature in the tent slowly started to rise. I looked across to the girls who had noticed the same thing as me. I told them I was sorry and, together, we waited.

T H E    E N D

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Table of Contents

- Copyright
- Acknowledgement
- FROM THE SAME AUTHOR
- A W O R D F R O M T H E A U T H O R
- P R O L O G U E
- D A Y O N E T h e E n d O f T h e W o r l d
- D A Y T W O D i s c o v e r i e s
- D A Y T W O R e u n i o n s
- D A Y T H R E E H O M E S W E E T H O M E

- D A Y T H R E E D E S T I N A T I O N U N K N O W N

- D A Y T H R E E R E V E L A T I O N S
- F I O N A
- D A Y T H R E E B R O K E N
- D A Y T H R E E R U I N E D
- D A Y F O U R T H E E N D O F M Y W O R L D