Death
Date: 2019-12-15 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: She lost her identity… …and now she has lost her freedom. Captured by slavers, Kat must find a way to escape or end up on another bound ship. When a fellow prisoner recognises her, she is forced to confront her past. How far will she go to get free? Death is the thirteenth episode of Jon Cronshaw’s epic fantasy novella serial, The Ravenglass Chronicles. Inspired by the tarot, The Ravenglass Chronicles is a coming-of-age high fantasy adventure in the vein of Robin Hobb’s Farseer series and Patrick Rothfuss’s The Kingkiller Chronicles. Order your copy now.
Publisher: No World Press

Black Death Survival

Jon Cronshaw

Published by Wyvern Books, Ltd, 2021.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

BLACK DEATH SURVIVAL

First edition. October 21, 2021.

Copyright © 2021 Jon Cronshaw.

Written by Jon Cronshaw.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Black Death Survival

1. Liam

2. Michael

3. Liam

4. Tina

5. Liam

6. Michael

7. Liam

8. Tina

9. Liam

10. Michael

11. Liam

12. Tina

13. Liam

14. Michael

15. Liam

16. Tina

17. Liam

18. Michael

19. Liam

20. Tina

21. Liam

22. Michael

23. Liam

24. Tina

25. Liam

26. Michael

27. Liam

28. Tina

29. Liam

30. Michael

31. Liam

32. Tina

33. Liam

34. Michael

35. Liam

36. Tina

37. Liam

38. Michael

39. Liam

40. Michael

41. Liam

42. Michael

43. Liam

44. Michael

45. Liam

46. Michael

47. Liam

48. Michael

49. Liam

50. Michael

51. Liam

52. Michael

53. Liam

54. Michael

55. Liam

56. Michael

57. Liam

58. Michael

59. Liam

60. Michael

61. Liam

62. Michael

63. Liam

64. Michael

65. Liam

66. Michael

67. Liam

68. Michael

69. Liam

70. Michael

71. Liam

72. Michael

73. Liam

74. Liam

75. Michael

76. Liam

77. Michael

78. Liam

79. Michael

80. Liam

81. Tina

82. Liam

83. Michael

84. Liam

85. Michael

86. Liam

87. Tina

88. Liam

89. Michael

90. Liam

91. Michael

92. Liam

93. Tina

94. Liam

95. Tina

96. Liam

97. Michael

98. Tina

99. Liam

100. Michael

101. Tina

102. Michael

103. Liam

104. Tina

105. Michael

106. Liam

107. Tina

108. Liam

109. Tina

110. Liam

111. Tina

112. Liam

113. Tina

114. Liam

115. Tina

116. Michael

117. Tina

118. Liam

119. Liam

120. Tina

121. Liam

122. Tina

123. Liam

124. Tina

125. Liam

126. Tina

127. Liam

128. Michael

129. Liam

130. Liam

131. Michael

132. Liam

133. Michael

134. Liam

135. Tina

136. Liam

137. Liam

138. Liam

139. Tina

140. Liam

141. Tina

Author’s note

Black Death London

I.

II.

III.

IV.

V.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

X.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

XVIII.

XIX.

XX.

XXI.

XXII.

XXIII.

XXIV.

XXV.

XXVI.

XXVII.

XXVIII.

XXIX.

XXX.

XXXI.

XXXII.

XXXIII.

XXXIV.

XXXV.

Author’s note

More from Jon

Also available

Acknowledgements

About the Author

For Lynn and Patrick.

“It was dark before I could get home, and so land at Churchyard stairs, where to my great trouble I met a dead (corpse) of the plague in the narrow ally just bringing down a little pair of stairs.”

- Samuel Pepys

––––––––

“And soon death was everywhere. Fathers abandoned their sick sons. Lawyers refused to come and make out wills for the dying. Friars and nuns were left to care for the sick, and monasteries and convents were soon deserted, as they were stricken, too. Bodies were left in empty houses, and there was no one to give them a Christian burial.”

- Unknown

1. Liam

Liam stared past his mother’s vacant eyes as machines wheezed and beeped around her. Her skin hung creased and yellowed—dead flesh on a half-dead frame. The quarantine bubble shimmered against the striplight, ripples of white separating and reconnecting on the glassy surface.

“You know what pisses me off the most?” Liam turned to his wife, the chair’s leatherette padding squeaking beneath him. “If she’d got this a few years ago, she’d be alright by now.”

Jenna squeezed his right hand, her skin dark against his, and sighed. “I know. We’ll get through this.” She ran a hand over her tied-back curls, reached into her handbag, and pulled out a cereal bar. “Last one. Want to share?”

Liam waved her away. He couldn’t cope with more dry blandness. “I was interviewing a guy about this a few years back.” He gestured vaguely towards the bed. “He said it was to do with farmers.”

“What’s that got to do with it?” Jenna began to eat. Stray oat grains tumbled to the floor.

“These farmers pump their animals with antibiotics to stop them getting sick, and after a while they stop working.” With slow movement, he scratched at the stubble along his cheeks and jaw, frowning. He held the footage of pigs in his mind, their flesh yellowed and dying as a farmer watched on helplessly. Why had no one listened?

“Right.” Jenna glanced over the bed then regarded Liam, the corners of her lips twitching.

He dropped his hand to his side, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“I just don’t think you’re focusing on what’s happening here. Your mother is dying, Liam, and you just keep talking about work.”

Silence hung between them for several seconds. Liam glanced around the windowless room, tracing the lines between the off-white wall tiles, the sink, the plastic dispensers for latex gloves and soap, the machines, the steel-framed bed, the half-drawn curtain in surgical blue that did nothing to shield anyone from the indignity of it all.

He got to his feet and rubbed the back of his neck, pacing between his wife and mother, wrinkling his nose at the lingering bleach.

His father’s death flooded his mind—the way the cancer ravaged his body, draining the colour from his hair and skin in a matter of weeks. “They haven’t checked on her in a while.” He made towards the door. “I should find out what’s happening.”

“Liam, please.” Her dark eyes pleaded with him. “You need to prepare yourself for the worst.”

Swallowing, Liam slumped into his seat and leaned against her, resting his head on her shoulder. “You think I can’t see what’s happening?”

She stroked his hair.

“It’s just...” His voice trailed off.

He resented the implication that he didn’t care, that he was unfeeling. If he let his emotions take hold, they would wash over him and break him. He had to be the strong one. He couldn’t let his family down. “I’m fine, Jenna. It’s fine.”

“She’s your mum. You need to come to terms with what’s happening.”

Liam sat up, gazed down at his brown shoes, and shrugged. “What do you want me to say? I didn’t realise there was a right way to be. I must have missed that PowerPoint.”

“Don’t be a dick.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and turned to him, eyebrow raised. “I’m serious. I think you’re in denial.”

“I’m not in denial. What do you want me to do? You want me to get on my knees and start wailing? I’m dealing with it. Just give me a break.” He got to his feet, fists clenched, shaking his head. A wave of heat spread across his chest and coursed along his spine. Why did they always have the heating so high in these places? “I’m going to find out what’s happening.”

Her gaze dropped to her open palms. “I’m sorry.” Brushing crumbs from her black leggings and cardigan, she tossed the cereal bar wrapper back into her bag. “I guess it’s getting to both of us.”

Liam placed a hand on her shoulder and forced a smile. “I’m here for you. We’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying—” His eyes shot to the blinking red light on the ceiling, his ears ringing with the shrill alarm. “What’s that?”

She cringed at the sound and said something Liam could not make out.

He gestured to the door. “We should go.”

Jenna nodded, grabbed her bag, and rose to her feet. She waved a hand towards the bed.

Liam shook his head and opened the door.

Men and women ran past, following the blinking signs for the fire exits. The floor shimmered off-white as more red lights flashed in unison. A nurse pushed a wheelchair towards them, taking a wide berth as a gaunt grey man glared up at them with sunken eyes.

“Come on,” he said, taking Jenna’s hand. “Let’s see what’s going on.”

They joined the stream of people along the corridor, past the doors to private wards and the empty nurses’ station. Taking a right, they reached the lifts and frowned at the man smashing his fists against the buttons. “They’ll be out,” Liam said to the man. “It’s a fire alarm.”

The man glanced at them for a second with small watery eyes, cursing under his breath. His pallid flesh stretched across sharp cheekbones, framed by curtains of lank white hair. Sneering, he flapped his hospital gown around, his blue-tinged spindly legs quivering, and turned back to the buttons, prodding them with a finger.

“Mate, seriously. The lifts are out.”

The man turned to him with wild eyes, his lip curling.

Liam shrugged and stepped over to the stairwell, jerking the door handle.

“It’s locked,” the man said, his voice like stone. “Everything’s locked.”

Liam ran back to the corridor, shouldering his way through a set of double-doors. People stood gathered around the entrance to another stairwell, staring at the doors. “What’s going on?”

A nurse jerked her chin up and raised her hands, her arms fleshy and drooping like bat wings. “Please, sir. We’re waiting for an announcement.”

“What about the fire?” Liam leaned against the door, pushing it with his right arm. Sweat dripped from the end of his nose, pooling around the back of his neck and armpits. He banged against the door with his fists, the thuds drowned out by the alarm.

Jenna tugged at his elbow. “Liam, leave it.”

“I’m not staying around here if there’s a fire.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a sleeve, breath deepening.

“Everyone’s looking at you.”.

“I don’t care. You know how much—”

The alarm stopped.

Liam met the nurse’s glare with gritted teeth, shrugging Jenna’s hand away when she tried to hold him back. “Where is the fire?”

The nurse raised her chin. “That wasn’t a fire alarm, sir.”

2. Michael

“Your oatcakes are getting cold, duck.”

Michael sneered up from his plate and stared across the kitchen table at his wife. “What?”

Tina offered him a smile, the creases around her eyes remaining unmoved. It was one of those false smiles she always gave him when she wanted to lighten the mood.

Patronising bitch.

She cleared her throat and shuffled on her seat, running a hand back over her faded blonde ponytail. “I was thinking we could go into Hanley if you wanted?”

“I don’t want to.” He picked up his oatcake and bit into it, tearing away fried egg and bacon, leaning over his plate as the yolk coursed down his chin.

“Maybe we could look out for a new suit. In case you get any interviews.”

“I don’t want to.” He took a swig of tea and closed his eyes for several seconds. It was the same thing every morning, the same bullshit, the same questions, the same accusations. Why couldn’t she just give him some space? He opened his eyes. “What?”

“If you don’t want to go out, that’s fine. Maybe we could send out some more applications?”

He slammed his free hand down on the table. “I’m getting my job back. I’ll call the Federation again. They said they’ll help me get reinstated.”

She pulled her hand back and folded her arms. “You need to move on.”

“If they just let me explain—”

She shook her head. “They’re not going to let you. I’ve...I’ve spoken to some people. There’s no way they’ll let you back. Maybe if it hadn’t been so big in the press.”

Michael closed his eyes again, his fists growing tight. “It’s not right. Why am I the one getting punished? You saw what that scumbag did to those girls.”

Tina rolled her eyes.

“Don’t fucking do that. Why you rolling your eyes?”

“They said you went too far.”

“Who’s they?”

“Everyone at the station thinks so.”

He sniffed. “Yeah, and I bet you’re right along with them.”

She turned away, pulling her arms tighter around her. “It’s not like that.”

“For fuck’s sake. You too?” He leaned forward. A vein throbbed on his forehead. “The guy was a nonce. He deserved everything he got. How many times?”

“You’re not above the law. We have procedures. You let your emotions get in the way of your work.”

“Now you’re sounding like them.” He shook his head and sighed. “I knew it would only be a matter of time before they got to you as well.”

“You need to get real, duck.” She got to her feet. “You can go around blaming everyone else, but he was found not guilty.”

“That’s bollocks and you know it. He was guilty.”

“It doesn’t matter. We did our job. We’re not fucking judges.”

“It’s not right.” He shook his head and stared at his hands. “How come he gets to walk the streets, free to do what he does?” He pointed outside. “He’s out there doing God-knows-what, while I’m sitting here about to lose my job. You call that justice?”

“You assaulted him.”

Michael went to say something, but stopped himself. What could he say? She was a lost cause. They’d poisoned her mind along with the rest of his so-called friends. He took another bite of his oatcake and knocked back the rest of his tea.

“Have you thought any more about applying for security jobs? They are always looking for ex-police. They’ll snap you up.”

There was that smile again.

“You think I want to go around with a badge and hat pretending to be someone? You want me to sit at some reception desk or manning a carpark at all hours for a couple of quid an hour above minimum wage?” He smirked. “Fuck that.”

She frowned and pointed a forefinger at him. “You need to do something. We need the money.”

“Maybe if we’d stayed back on London Road we wouldn’t be mortgaged up to our arse.”

She raised her hand, gesturing for silence, when the phone rang. “Yes?” Deep lines set across her forehead. “What? When? I’m supposed to be on leave.” She sighed. “Fine. Okay, I’ll come in.” She dropped her hands to her side and glanced around the kitchen, snatching up her handbag as she headed towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To work.”

“What about Hanley?”

“Leave has been cancelled.”

He laughed bitterly. “Not for me, it hasn’t.”

“I need to go.” She kissed him on the cheek and left.

He leaned back as the front door clicked shut and sighed.

3. Liam

Men and women sat back-to-back on rows of chairs, staring at their phones, books, hands, and into coffee cups. A chequerboard of blue and grey tiles stretched across the floor as hospital staff ran this way and that, ignoring the calls and questions.

A boy, no older than five, crouched in a corner, playing with a red plastic bus. Liam watched him, reminded of his son Tommy. A dying woman’s hospital bed was no place for a four-year-old, so Liam had left him with Jenna’s mother in Leeds.

Liam rummaged inside his jacket pocket and took out a pound coin. He pushed it into the vending machine and ran a forefinger down the list of drinks. It had been a matter of weeks since his mother started feeling unwell. The infection spread so fast.

Jenna smiled up at him from her seat. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He took in a breath. “You want a coffee?”

“Please.” She retrieved her phone from her handbag, its screen casting her face in bluish light. “I should call Mum, tell her what’s happening.”

The vending machine juddered to life, grinding and gurgling as a white paper cup shot into the square gap in line with Liam’s waist. Steaming water spurted from a nozzle. Concerned about the potential for the water to go astray, he took a step away from the machine and waited. When it stopped, he reached inside and slid a forefinger and thumb around the cup’s lip, avoiding its side. “This thing’s hotter than the sun,” he muttered, raising the cup gingerly before him, his eyes locked on the liquid’s steaming surface.

“What shall I tell her?”

Liam shrugged and handed her the cup. “That they’ve put the hospital in lockdown.” Taking another pound from his pocket, he inserted it into the machine. He selected another white coffee and stood back as another cup popped into place.

“When should I tell her we’ll pick Tommy up?”

He turned to her. “God knows. You know as much as I do.” Grabbing his coffee from the machine, he sat down to Jenna’s right, blowing at the steam. “This thing’s hotter than the sun.”

“You said.”

“Right.” He glanced down at his cup.

Placing her cup behind the chair leg, Jenna raised her phone to her ear. “Mum? I can hardly hear you. Signal’s really bad. How’s Tommy?”

Liam leaned towards the phone, trying to make out the high-pitched babble.

“That’s good. I hope he’s behaving himself.” She nodded. “Still no better. We’re preparing ourselves for the worst. Listen, they’ve put the hospital in some sort of lockdown. They’re not letting anyone out. I know. I know. Really? When was that? Not sure. We’ll let you know as soon as we do. That’s fine. Give him a big kiss and tell him we’ll be back as soon as we can. Okay. Love you too. Bye.” She turned off the phone’s screen, slid it into her handbag, brass clasp snapping shut, and reached back under her seat for the coffee.

“How’s she doing?”

“Fine. She said it’s not just in Wolverhampton. It’s everywhere.”

“What do you mean?” He sipped his coffee.

“It’s been all over the news, apparently.”

Liam lowered his cup, eyebrows raised. “Like some sort of quarantine?”

“It’s all she said.” She sighed and pulled her cardigan away from her armpits. “I need a shower.”

Liam scanned the other faces, forcing a half-smile when an elderly woman met his gaze. He frowned at the scrape of a deep phlegmy cough. “It’s like a bloody Petri dish in here.”

“They always say it’s the worst place to catch stuff.”

“I’m going to find out what’s going on.” He got to his feet and downed the rest of his coffee, tossing the cup into an overflowing bin next to the vending machine. “I won’t be long.”

He waved at a man wearing a billowing white doctor’s coat. But the man raised his chin and kept walking.

Liam raced after him, skirting past chairs and outstretched feet.

Following around a corner, Liam stopped. “Excuse me. Hey!”

The man ignored him.

“Mate, I’m talking to you.” Liam overtook the man and blocked the double-doors with his arm.

The man blinked as if noticing Liam for the first time. He stood a head taller than Liam, with dark skin and a cultivated goatee beard. “What?” he snapped, sweat glistening across his forehead.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time for this.” The man dipped his head to move past Liam. “Please take a seat in the waiting area. I need to get through.”

“Why aren’t they letting anyone out?”

“Because we’ve been put under lockdown. Now, if you please.”

Liam shook his head. “No one knows what’s happening. You need to get someone to tell us.”

The man narrowed his eyes at Liam, the muscles around his jaw tightening. “I don’t need to get anyone to do anything. Step aside, or I’ll have to call security.”

“And they’ll kick me out?”

The tension evaporated, the hints of a smile flickering across the man’s face. “All I know is that we’re under lockdown.” He shrugged. “That’s all I know. No one’s telling us anything either. Sorry.”

“Do you know how long it’s going to be for?”

“Honestly, you’re speaking to the wrong person. No one’s telling the staff anything either.” He opened his palms and nodded towards the door. “May I?”

Liam stepped back. “Right.” He rubbed his stubble, watching the man sidestep between the doors. “Sorry to have troubled you.” He ambled back towards Jenna and sank back onto his seat.

“What happened?”

“He said he doesn’t know anything. He just said they’re in lockdown. I think he’s telling the truth.”

Jenna sighed and shook her head. “Oh, well. I guess there’s nothing we can do about it. Think they’ll let us go back to see your mum?”

Liam let out a long sigh. “I hate this.”

“Tell them you’re a reporter, that you need answers.”

“Yeah, right. They’ll just tell me to address all my questions to some jumped-up PR twat who’ll spin me some non-committal statement. Trust me, people are less likely to talk if they know you’re a journo.”

“I guess. Shall we go back to see your mum?”

Liam slapped his thighs and nodded. “May as well.”

4. Tina

Tina stepped outside, closed the door behind her, and sighed. It was hard for Michael. She tried to imagine what it must be like for him, forced to sit at home every day with the sword of Damocles hanging over him. Whether the panel found him guilty or not, his colleagues had already made their judgement.

Usually, she would have been pissed off if she’d been called into work on a holiday. But she could not be around Michael while he was in this state. She squeezed the button on her car key, enjoying the satisfying way the door locks shifted and the wing-mirrors swung out with a slow mechanical hum. It always reminded her of something from Star Trek.

As she slid onto the front seat, she breathed. There were few moments where she could truly breathe, where she could be alone with her thoughts. She pushed the key into the ignition and tapped a rhythm onto the steering wheel.

Starting the engine, she whacked up the volume of her 80s playlist, nodding her head to The Cure’s Boys Don’t Cry. She reversed from her driveway and headed to the station.

Five minutes later, she pulled into the police station carpark, to find some arsehole had taken her usual space, and had to remind herself that she was meant to be on leave.

Scanning the car park, every space was filled. Indeed, cars occupied every available bit of space, with some resting two wheels on the kerb. She sniffed—someone should write them a ticket.

She made a U-turn and found a space on the next street and headed inside.

A paramedic dressed in a bright yellow hazmat suit blocked her way in.

She flashed her ID and forced a smile. “Excuse me.”

The paramedic did not move. “I need to check everyone who comes in. I’m sorry. Strict orders.”

She let out an exasperated groan. “Fine.”

The paramedic checked around her throat and armpits, took her temperature and shone a torch into her eyes. He stepped back and nodded. “All clear.”

5. Liam

Liam stretched out his legs, white socks peeking from the bottoms of his Levis. He leaned his head back and twiddled his thumbs as the machines connected to his mother gasped and clicked, wheezed and clicked, the beeps reminding him of  an old Atari game, just insistent enough so he couldn’t zone them out.

The seat creaked beneath him when he shifted his weight, waves of heat bearing down on him from pipes and wall vents. Closing his eyes, he pictured his son’s cheeky smile and mess of black curls, his bedroom floor strewn with Lego, Pokémon teddies, and dinosaur figures. “I’m so tired.”

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” Jenna asked.

“I can’t sleep in here. Too warm.”

“I know, right? Why do they always have the heating so high? You’d think that’d make things worse with germs and stuff.” She ran a finger across her phone.

“You heard from your mum?”

“Just texting her now.”

“How’s Tommy?”

“He’s fine. She’s just wondering if we’ve heard anything else about the lockdown.”

An alarm blared from the machine next to the bed. Liam sat up, blinking as if slapped. “What’s that?” Bolting to his feet, he stepped across to the bed, placing a hand on the plastic bubble. “She’s stopped breathing.”

Jenna shot up and rushed to the door. “I’ll get someone.”

Liam stood helplessly as the machines came to a grinding halt, the alarm filling the room with its unwavering tone. He pressed his hands against his ears, staring down at his mother’s blank eyes and slack mouth.

He glanced towards the door when Jenna returned.

“I can’t find anyone.” Her eyes moved from Liam to his mother and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “Is she?”

Liam nodded and slumped his head onto her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight as they cried.

He pulled away after a while, his body shaking with sobs, mouth thick with spit. He leaned up and took a shuddering breath. “Wait here.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find a nurse or something.” Liam swallowed and moved towards the door. “I’ll be back.”

A striplight flickered above him as he stumbled along the corridor, pulse thundering in his skull. His footsteps were light, almost weightless, as if his true self separated from his body and followed along for the ride. Sidling up to the nurses’ station, he wiped his eyes and struck a brass bell. He waited for several moments before ringing the bell again. “Hello?” he called, trying to see beyond a crack in the door, its glass window an opaque grey smear. “Anyone there?”

He gazed along the empty corridor, scanning for movement. Holding in a breath, he vaulted the barrier into the nurses’ station and shoved his way through the door.

Papers and folders lay piled on huddled desks while health leaflets hung from a notice board, secured by pins. “Hello?”

At the room’s far end, he reached for a door and found it locked. He shook the handle, cursing. Frowning, he made his way back to the nurses’ station and stopped as he was about to climb back over the barrier.

Dipping his head, he cast his eyes across a television screen, its image split into three rows of three grainy security videos.

He recognised himself on the central image. He glanced back at the tiny camera perched vulture-like in the opposite corner. He looked like a criminal—though everyone looked like a criminal under monochrome surveillance.

His eyes darted between the images of empty corridors, finally resting on the bottom-left corner, showing the lifts, the edges of movement, of violence.

Hopping over the barrier, he tore a fire extinguisher from the wall and held it under one arm as he marched along the corridors.

Shouts and screams grew louder as he made his way to a set of double-doors. With the fire extinguisher’s nozzle pointed forward, he flung the doors open and marched through.

A man cried out, frantic, as a pair of female nurses tried to restrain him. He shoved them back and scrambled towards the lift panel, smacking the numbers with his fists. “I just want to leave.”

Liam pointed the nozzle towards the man, glancing down at his missing slipper and blue-tinged legs. “You need to calm down, mate.”

The man glanced up at him, lip curling. “I just want to leave.”

“We all want to leave. But I need help.” He turned to the larger nurse. “My mum’s in room fifteen. I think she’s dead.”

The nurse folded her bat-wing arms, nodded and ducked past, escaping through the double-doors behind him.

He turned to the other nurse. “You okay?”

Without answering, the woman jogged away.

Liam backed his way through the door, wrapping the fire extinguisher’s rubber tubing around the door’s handles and wedging the nozzle, before turning back towards his mother’s room.

When he arrived, he found Jenna leaning through the door. “You find anyone?”

“I sent a nurse. Didn’t she come?”

Jenna shook her head.

“Bollocks. I’ll go find her.” Turning, he headed back to the nurses’ station and rang the bell. He waited for several seconds before ringing it again. “Hello?”

Something moved beyond the door. He climbed the barrier and entered the office.

Two nurses stared at him, wide-eyed. “You shouldn’t be in here, sir,” a nurse said, raising her hands. “Please.”

“I thought you were going to see my mum?” Liam gestured over his shoulder. “She’s dead in there.”

“Sir, this is a restricted area.” The nurse got to her feet, her hand reaching for a walkie-talkie on her belt.

A rush of heat erupted behind his eyes, gripping the top of his head, squeezing, redness clouding his vision. He shook his head, jaw tightening. “My mum is dead.” He turned to the other nurse, now speaking into a walkie-talkie, her back turned to him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling security. This is a restricted area.”

Liam raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Please. You don’t need to do that. My mum’s lying in her room.” Words caught in his throat. “She...she’s not breathing. There was an alarm...” He glanced over his shoulder. “Please.” He stared down at his hands as tears clouded his vision.

Someone yanked his arms behind him, twisting them so his spine arched backwards.

He cried out.

“You’re coming with us,” a gruff male voice said in his ear, whiskey and onions on his breath. “Don’t try anything.”

“Let’s get him downstairs,” a second, deeper voice said. “You two alright?”

The nurses nodded. “Thank you. He broke into a restricted area and threatened us.”

“He was being very intimidating.”

Liam glared between them. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Less of that,” the first guard said.

Liam kicked his legs, screaming out in pain at a sharp smack against the side of his head. “My mum...please.”

“Come on. You going to walk, or do we need to drag you?”

“You can’t do this.” Liam shifted, trying to slip his arms free.

“Are you going to walk, or do we need to drag you? It’s a simple question.”

Liam sagged. “I’ll walk.”

With his arms forced high up his back, the security guards led Liam through the office’s rear door and down three flights of stairs to the hospital’s basement.

They passed towering steel bins and a large door to the hospital’s furnace. The air hung damp and cold. A network of pipes and cables ran along the ceiling. A gust of wind whistled between concrete pillars.

The air grew colder as they passed through an underground car park, vehicles lined below striplights, diesel and exhaust fumes lingering in the low light.

When they reached a row of rusted shipping containers, the first guard opened a door and pushed Liam inside.

“Wait. I need to see my wife.”

“No can do. You can wait down here until this lockdown blows over.”

“Yeah, and then the police can deal with you,” the second guard said.

“Please. She’s in room fifteen, back where we were. Get her to come down.”

“What’s she look like?”

“Black woman. Dark hair, curly. Erm... she’s wearing maybe a brown cardigan, black leggings. She’s in room fifteen. She’s called Jenna. Please.”

The guard closed the door, bolting it from the outside.

Liam stood in the dark, silent and alone. “Shit.”

6. Michael

Grabbing a box of tissues from the bedroom, Michael closed the sitting room curtains. He opened his laptop and logged onto Pornhub.

What was that one who wore the cat ears called? He should probably be sending out applications and updating his CV, but when was the last time Tina had put out for him?

A knock came at the door.

“For fuck’s sake.” He pulled up his trousers and checked the time. It was too early for the postman.

There was another knock.

Probably Jehovah’s Witnesses. Perhaps, if he stayed quiet, they would go away. He stood and listened and more knocks came, this time louder.

Slamming his laptop shut, he stormed towards the front door—the one with the cat ears would be there when he got back.

He opened the front door and glared down at a pale lad, skinny with tall black hair. “What?”

The lad glanced down at his feet. “You got, like, a phone?”

“No.”

“You need to help.” The lad coughed into the crook of his elbow and gestured behind him. “Please.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “What is it?” He’d seen his fair share of chancers over the years, but this lad didn’t seem like the usual chavs. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

The lad nodded and ran towards the garden gate. “Someone’s, like, collapsed, or something.”

“Have you called an ambulance?” He locked the door behind him.

“I don’t have a phone.”

“Yeah right.” He folded his arms. “How old are you?”

The lad coughed. “Nineteen.”

“You a student?”

He nodded.

“And you don’t have a phone?” He tilted his head.

“Like, erm.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m OTG.”

“You’ll have to speak English. What the fuck’s an OTG when it’s at home?”

“Off the Grid.” The lad shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t want Facebook and the NSA tracking me.”

“Right.” Michael smirked. “I think the NSA are more worried about getting back to the moon than stalking some pissing student.”

The lad frowned and gestured for Michael to follow.

Reaching a corner, he came to a stop and stared down at a woman’s body.

The student coughed and averted his gaze from the sight. “Will you, like, call the police or something?”

Michael nodded and raised his chin. “I am the police.” He glanced at the trails of blood oozing from the woman’s mouth and ears. “Did you see what happened?”

“She was having this weird fit. I don’t know.”

Michael kneeled over her, squinting at the bumpy bruising around her neck, and shifted back. “Shit.”

Getting to his feet, he took his phone from his pocket and dialled the station.

It rang twelve times before a familiar voice answered. “Newcastle-under-Lyme police, Sergeant Wallace speaking.”

“Sarge, it’s me. Michael.”

There was a long pause followed by a distorted sigh. “We’re in the middle of a crisis. I don’t have—”

“It’s not about any of that. Listen.” He scanned the road. “There’s a body on Clayton Road. It’s just a few doors up from my house.”

“Is the person breathing?”

“It’s a body.” How the hell did he get promoted? “I’d say it’s a woman in her mid-to-late forties. No sign of a struggle. Eye witness said she had a seizure.”

“Are there any unusual lumps? Any blood around the mouth or nose?”

“Yeah. There’s bumps around her neck.”

“Don’t touch. We’ll send someone.”

“What do you need me to do? I can help.”

The sergeant didn’t say anything for several seconds before letting out a resigned sigh. “If you can keep the scene clear until we arrive, we’d appreciate it.”

Finally, he was getting somewhere. “Will do. Thanks.”

“Yeah. This doesn’t mean—”

“I know.” Michael ended the call and gritted his teeth. “Wanker.”

7. Liam

Liam paced back and forth in the shipping container, rubbing the stubble around his chin in the darkness. He tried to turn on his phone again, holding the power button. It just needed to stay on long enough to send a message to Jenna, but the battery had died the previous evening.

He replayed what had happened in the nurses’ station. What else could he have done? His mum had died and they were ignoring him. He framed the story in his mind—an innocent man falsely imprisoned by overzealous security guards. It would probably make a good national story if he made a few phone calls. Knowing his editor, though, he’d probably want this one for his own splash...or, not.

The handset vibrated momentarily. A pinprick of red flashed in the dark. Then nothing.

He slid the phone back inside his jacket and stared up at the ceiling. He should have done things differently. He’d written stories supporting the new lockdown laws. The Government claimed the laws were necessary in a post-antibiotic world, even if it meant curtailing certain basic liberties. They had gone too far.

Sinking to his knees, he slid backwards along the floor until his shoulder blades met cold metal. He stretched out his legs and leaned back, thoughts drifting to his mother, to memories of childhood, riding his bike, his father’s death, the way his mother’s mouth hung open, the alarm—the flat, endless alarm.

The bolt rattled, steel scraping on steel.

Liam scrambled to his feet, squinting at the florescent lights. A man’s shadow came into focus.

“You can’t keep me in here,” Liam said, his voice cracking. “I have rights.”

“We’re under lockdown. It’s our duty to keep everyone within the quarantine zone.”

“I’m a journalist. I’ll write about this.”

The security guard smirked. “You can tell that to the police.” He turned to the sound of movement behind him. “Bring him in here.”

“Can’t you at least fetch me some water? A bucket? Maybe some blankets? This is false imprisonment.”

Checking inside the container, the guard nodded. “Alright. We’ll sort something.”

Liam dipped his head. “Thank you.” He stepped towards the door.

The guard chuckled. “Where are you going?”

“I thought—”

“Get back in there.”

Liam stood aside as the second guard shoved another man into the container, bolting the door behind them, sealing them in darkness.

“I need to get out,” the man said, banging his fists against the metal, each strike ringing out in mournful chimes.

Liam recognised the voice. “You’re that guy from the lifts, aren’t you?”

“I need to get out.”

“We both do, mate. Just try to calm down a bit.”

The man stopped hitting the door.

“There,” Liam said softly. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Out,” the man whispered. “Need to get out.”

Liam rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the man’s outline in the darkness. “Let’s keep it calm. We’ll get out. Don’t worry.”

“They say they’ll take me to the police. They say I’m bad. They say they’ll send me to prison and lock me away.”

“That’s not going to happen. When they come back, I’ll speak to them.”

“No,” the man snapped. “No. Need to escape. Plague here.”

“Let’s see,” Liam mused. “Think you can lift me on your shoulders?”

“No.”

“I was thinking we could check around the top of this thing, see if there are any weak points.”

“No way out. Need to escape. Plague.” The man’s breathing grew deeper and faster. “Break door.” He charged into the door and sunk to the floor, cringing, moaning.

Liam sighed. “You’re not getting through like that.” He walked over to the man and reached down, pulling him up by the wrists. “You want to try what I said? I could lift you.”

“Okay,” the man whispered.

Liam crouched on one knee as the man straddled his shoulders.

“Easy.” Liam wobbled to his feet, pushing against the wall for balance. “Let’s start in the back corner.” He staggered forwards, hitting the far wall shoulder-first. “Careful. Keep steady.”

The man reached up and groped around the join between the wall and ceiling, grunting. “Nothing.”

“Okay, let’s try the other one.”

“Other what?”

“Other corner.” He patted the man’s right knee. Reaching the other corner, Liam stood, straining under the man’s weight.

“I think there’s something.”

The door flew open and a pair of torch beams sliced through the darkness.

The man dropped from Liam’s shoulders and cowered in the corner.

“What the hell is going on?” a guard asked, turning the torch to Liam’s face. “You trying to escape?”

Averting his gaze, Liam held up his hands.

The guard let out a mirthless chuckle. “Here, Paul. They were going to get out through that thing.”

The other guard leaned inside and swept his torch beam into the corner, shifting the glowing circle around the edge of an air vent. “Good luck with that one. And, just to think, we brought them some home comforts.” He tossed a pair of bed sheets inside and placed a bucket on the floor to the door’s right. “There’s a couple of bottles of water in there. That should keep you going until the police get here.”

“Listen,” Liam said. “Things got a bit crazy up there. I’m alright now.” He met the first guard’s gaze. “My mum just died and no one was doing anything. It got to me. I won’t cause any trouble if you let me out. I won’t write anything, and we can just pretend none of this happened.”

The guard shrugged. “Sorry, mate. More than my job’s worth.” He closed the door, bolting it shut.

“Bollocks.”

8. Tina

Bad coffee and men’s deodorant tickled her nose as she marched through the corridors to the women’s locker room. She changed into her uniform and made her way to the briefing room.

“Tina, thanks for joining us.”

She nodded to the sergeant and stood with her back against the rear wall as her fellow officers filled the chairs.

“Thank you to everyone who came in from leave. Obviously, you’ll get overtime.” The sergeant paced back and forth, face grim. “As I’m sure you’ll appreciate, this is an exceptional circumstance. And trust me, top brass didn’t do this lightly.”

Tina frowned at the projected image of a cadaver on a mortuary slab. The alleged victim lay pale and naked, with dark buboes around his crotch and armpits—but a victim of what?

“The Government has announced what they are calling an unprecedented pandemic. Of course it’ll come as no surprise to hear that our PM shows a complete ignorance of history. Luckily for him, we are highly trained and highly skilled—Wilson, you can stop laughing.” He shifted to the next slide showing another corpse—a young woman of Indian descent lay dead and naked, bulging purple lumps around her throat and armpits. “The Government says we’re dealing with something similar to the bubonic plague.”

“Shit,” Tina muttered.

“Symptoms include high fever, coughing up blood, and buboes. Mortality estimates are around ninety per cent, with a high transmission rate. But, if you’ve started coughing up blood, you’re already too far gone. Death usually comes within twenty-four hours of displaying symptoms.”

“Fuck,” Tina said.

“Are you saying this is the plague?” a male officer on the front row asked. “We’ve got to deal with the fucking Black Death?”

The sergeant nodded and folded her arms. “Well, something similar.”

“Jesus,” Tina muttered. She made a cross over her chest, trying to understand what this all meant. It had been several years since she’d left the church, since she turned her back on the talk of the end days and preparing for the imminent apocalypse. She was sure those bastards felt pretty fucking smug right now.

“What we know is this infection is highly contagious. We are under strict orders not to touch or interfere with any corpses unless wearing full hazmat. Any questions before we go on?”

The officers clamoured with questions. Tina stared at the corpse on the projection, the noise around her little more than background.

“One at a bloody time.” The sergeant gestured to an officer on the front row. “Fisher.”

“Is there a cure?”

“Not as yet. Government say they’re working on it. So, take from that what you will.”

“I thought we could cure the plague?”

“With antibiotics,” the sergeant said.

The room fell silent.

“Tests are being done. That’s all we know. I’ll take more questions at the end.” He turned to the projector and moved onto the next image showing a map of Newcastle-under-Lyme. “Our orders come down from the very top. They are very simple. So simple, in fact, that even Wilson should be able to perform them so long as we give him a chimp or another member of the great ape family as a partner. We need to contain the flow of people. That means roadblocks. That means quashing any civil unrest.”

“You’re expecting unrest?”

“We’re dealing with a fatal disease that’s already killed tens of thousands in India and China. Something like this will no doubt raise concerns for the public. And as we have all seen, the public can be very unpredictable.” The sergeant eyed the officers. “I need you all to be firm but understanding. Food supplies will be disrupted. People will be scared. Remember, you can use any necessary force to contain the spread. This is fast-moving, so keep your ears open and don’t do anything stupid—that includes you, Wilson. Any questions?”

Tina shook her head, a sinking sensation tugging her stomach.

9. Liam

“Seriously, will you please just shut the fuck up?” Liam smacked a fist against the container wall, his jaw clenching. He took a sip from the water bottle and placed it next to him, leaning his head forward onto folded arms.

“We need to escape,” the man said, pacing.

“Shut up.” Even in the dark, the red haze filled his vision. “I swear to God, if you don’t shut up...”

The man stopped. “Someone’s coming.”

Liam got up. “Stand back,” he whispered, listening as the footsteps approached the container.

“You think—”

“Shut up,” Liam said through gritted teeth. The bolt shifted and the door creaked open.

Liam charged forwards, shoulder-first into the guard’s stomach. Gasping, the guard rolled onto his side. Liam mounted him, beating down on him with fists until the guard’s face erupted with blood.

He rose to his feet, breath heavy, sweat drenching his forehead. “Where’s the other one?”

The guard mumbled, clutching at his pulped nose.

Wiping his brow, Liam turned to the man staring at him wide-eyed from the container. “Go.”

The man hesitated and glanced down at the guard. Without another word, he snatched the guard’s baton and walkie-talkie and ran.

Shaking his head, Liam glanced between the guard and the shipping container. He reached under the guard’s arms and dragged him inside. “There’s some home comforts in there,” he said, slamming the door shut and fastening the bolt.

He stood for a moment, wondering if he had gone too far. Roaring waves washed through his head as he passed along the row of parked cars, the asphalt beneath his feet mottled with patches of dried oil and pools of rain. A burned plastic stench hung in the air.

He picked up speed and ran past the furnace, hesitating when he reached the lift.

Flexing his bruised knuckles, he cringed at the sharp pain spreading along his fingers. He studied the lift for a long moment. “Screw it.”

He turned and he made his way to the stairwell.

Breathing hard, he glanced up at grey concrete stairs, following the perpendicular spiral to the roof. The stench of urine and disinfectant cloyed at the back of his throat. He trudged up the steps, gripping the banister with his throbbing hand, his sweaty palms slipping against the rubber-coated handrail. A painted letter G confronted him in garish red.

He wasn’t sure where to find Jenna. He pushed his way through a fire door. The corridor stood silent save for the buzzing of striplights.

As the adrenaline subsided, he went into a disabled toilet and locked the door behind him. With a sigh, he sank onto the toilet bowl and peed, holding his head in his hands for more than a minute. He flushed and filled the sink with warm water. He squeezed at the soap dispenser to the left of a mirror, letting the creamy liquid drip onto his palm. Driving his hands into the water, he rubbed them together and held them, trying to ignore the stinging, the throbbing.

Eyes red, he pulled at his skin in the mirror, rubbing at his stubble. Bruising swelled around his knuckles. He splashed his face and wet his hair, pushing his fingers through the grease.

With a deep breath, he moved to the door, listening before turning the lock. He marched along the first corridor, passing through a set of double-doors, starting when someone called out to him.

“You really shouldn’t be back here, sir.” A tall man in a grey suit eyed him up and down.

Liam cleared his throat. “Sorry, just needed the toilet. Think I’m a bit lost.”

The man narrowed his eyes and gestured behind him. “Please, make your way back to the waiting room.” His voice was low and flat, as if he was struggling to hold in a yawn.

“Sorry, which way am I going?”

“Through there. Back the way you came.”

Liam nodded and passed through another set of double-doors, returning to the waiting room, searching the faces for Jenna. He wandered over to the vending machines and frowned.

The elderly woman who smiled at him earlier smiled at him again. “I think your wife has been looking for you, love.”

“Do you know where she is?”

The woman shook her head. “She said something about mum.”

“Which mum? Her mum? My mum?”

She gave him a confused look. “I wouldn’t know, love.”

Liam shook his head, turned and ambled past the rows of chairs, back towards the doors. He jogged along the corridor, ignoring the man in the grey suit calling after him, and barged through another set of doors.

Reaching the stairwell, he ran up the steps, stopping by a painted number three to regain his breath. With cautious steps, he nudged the door open a crack, peeking through and listening. He squeezed through the gap, trying not to make a sound, the door clicking shut behind him.

With his back against the wall, he followed the corridor to room fifteen, and smiled at Jenna sleeping on the chair at his mother’s side. “Hey.” He shook her shoulder.

She woke up, blinking. “Where have you been?”

“Long story.” He reached for her hand, pulling her to her feet. “We need to leave.”

“Leave? How?” She glanced down at his knuckles. “What happened to your hand?”

“They locked me in a shipping container. They’re going to have me arrested. We need to go.”

Jenna nodded, her eyes shifting towards his mother’s body. “What about—”

“It’s not her. She’s gone.”

“What about the quarantine? All the doors are locked. They’re not letting anyone out.”

“I’ve got an idea.” Liam stared at his mother, arid and yellow, a mask, a shell. Swallowing, he turned to the door. “Follow me.”

He strode briskly along the corridor, making his way back to the stairwell.

A woman’s voice called out from the nurses’ station. “Someone’s—”

“Ignore it,” Liam snapped. “Let’s go.”

He bolted through the door and ran up the stairway, their footsteps thunderous. They passed the fourth and fifth floor, eventually reaching the roof. “Bollocks.” He frowned at the chain securing the door.

“What’s wrong?” Jenna leaned over his shoulder.

“Stand back.” He raised his foot and slammed it against the door, staggering back with the force. Nothing.

“Where did—”

Ignoring her, Liam kicked the door again. “Damn it.” He leaned over the banister when voices echoed from below. He flinched at the smashing of glass, tinkling shards covering the floor.

Jenna returned a fire extinguisher to its wall bracket. “Put your coat over that.” She gestured to the frame. “We can get out this way.”

Noisy footsteps approached. A walkie-talkie crackled.

Liam nodded, removed his jacket, and draped it over the window frame. Going to one knee, he cupped Jenna’s right foot, pushing her through the window, and followed her onto the roof, snatching his jacket and shaking away the glass shards.

At the roof’s edge, Liam stood next to Jenna, gazing across the Wolverhampton night, a fine mist blurring the city’s lights.

Lampposts glowed orange as police cars zipped along the main road, a chilly autumn breeze brushing across Liam’s cheeks.

A police cordon stood at the hospital’s entrance.

Jenna pointed to a railing and jumped down onto the fire escape, the steps groaning as she descended, flakes of rust raining down from above.

Reaching the ground, they ducked through the shadows and ran onto soft grass, wading through felled leaves, and came to a six-foot wall.

Liam glanced back up at the rooftop.

Torch beams swept the ground.

“We can do this,” Jenna said. “There’s a foothold.”

They scrambled up the brickwork, feet slipping against the damp. Climbing the wall first, Jenna pointed back the way they came. “They’re coming. Come on.” Liam grabbed her hand and she heaved him up.

Landing on the footpath beyond, Liam brushed himself down and pulled on his jacket, placing an arm around Jenna.

“You think they’ll come after us, even with the lockdown?”

“Hope not.” Liam shrugged. “Let’s not wait around to find out.”

10. Michael

Michael remained still when the ambulance arrived accompanied by a pair of police cars.

A male and female police officer got out and set up a roadblock at the junction while a pair of paramedics approached the body wearing hazmat suits.

Everyone wore masks.

“If you can back away, sir,” the paramedic said.

“It’s okay, I’m with the police. I was asked to secure the area.”

The other paramedic approached him and shone a torch in his eyes. “How do you feel? Have you had any seizures? Have you vomited or bled from any orifices recently?”

“No. Why?”

“Any bumps around the neck, armpits, or groin? Any trouble breathing?”

Michael shook his head. “What’s going on?”

The paramedics ignored the question and sealed the woman into a plastic sack and bundled the body into the ambulance.

He glanced over to the police cordon and frowned. “Well, if you’re not going to tell me...” He raised his chin and strode over to the police cars. He could not tell who the woman was behind her gas mask, but he recognised the male officer. There were only two Asians at the station and he was sure Asif was a foot taller. “Raj? Is that you, mate?”

“Michael.” His voice came muffled through the mask.

“What’s going on?”

“I need to ask you to step away from the roadblock.”

Michael raised his hands. “Sorry. The sergeant said I could help out. He said to keep people away from the body. I want to help.”

“We don’t need your help. It’s people like you—” He stopped when the female officer shook her head.

“Go on. I know what you’re going to say.”

“Don’t make it any harder than it needs to be.” Raj took a step backwards.

Michael licked his lips. “Is that how it is?” He shook his head. “All these years, and that’s how I get treated?” He thrust two fingers up. “You can go fuck yourself, mate. I always thought you and the other one were a pair of stuck-up cunts anyway.” He turned and marched back to his house.

11. Liam

“I’ve no idea how the hell we’re going to get the car back,” Liam said, holding Jenna’s hand as they crossed the road. They joined a crowd gathered around the hospital entrance, police cars and barricades blocking the way, flashes of blue punctuating the night.

“What’s going on?” Jenna asked, turning to a short man with hunched shoulders, his features buried below a hood.

“There’s been an outbreak.” The man flicked his head to signal beyond the brick wall and steel gate. “Disease of some sort.”

Liam nodded. “Something at the hospital?”

“Out here.” The man shook his head. “Where have you been?”

“I’m going to give my mum a quick call,” Jenna said, reaching into her handbag and stepping away from the man. “I’ll see how Tommy is.”

“What are you going to tell her?” Liam followed her. “There’s no way we can get to the car.”

“I just want to see how he’s getting on. If we can’t get the car, we’ll just get the train.”

“I’ve completely lost track of time. What time is it?”

“Just after eight. We should get some food.”

Emptiness tugged his stomach, Liam rubbed his hands together. “We should go to the Wetherspoons near the station. Beer and a burger would hit the spot about now.”

“Shit,” Jenna muttered. “No signal.”

A police car shot past, its tyres roaring along the asphalt.

“Let’s head to town and get something to eat,” Liam said. “You’ll definitely get signal there.”

“I don’t want to go past Heath Town at this time.”

He let out a sigh. “We’ll be fine. There’s loads of coppers around. If we head now, we’ll be there before nine. I can already taste the burger.”

They followed the road towards the city centre, passing run-down factories and abandoned garages.

After ten minutes, they reached an intersection, the roads blocked by police vans and cars.

“What’s going on?” Jenna asked.

“Not sure. I’ll go ask. Maybe check your phone again.” Liam raised his chin and strode over to the nearest cordon. “Excuse me,” he called. “What’s going on?”

“You can’t come this way,” a police officer said, patting the rifle held across his chest.

Liam nodded. “Just wanting to get to Heath Town.” He gestured towards a pair of tower blocks looming in the distance.

“All the routes are closed to the public, I’m afraid. You’re going to have to turn back.”

“We’re trying to get to Leeds. We need to pick up our son.” He gestured back to Jenna. “What’s going on?”

The officer narrowed his eyes. “You just said you were going to Heath Town.”

“We need to go through, obviously. We’re headed to the station.”

“You won’t be allowed in or out of the city tonight. Trains are off. Strict quarantine.”

Liam gazed back at Jenna and shrugged helplessly. He turned back to the officer. “You sure you can’t just let us through?” he asked in a confidential tone. “I won’t tell.”

“This is a serious situation, sir. Please don’t force me to use this.” He fingered the Taser on his belt.

Raising his hands, Liam turned and walked back to Jenna. “No good. No trains. Roads are blocked. He says this whole place is under quarantine.”

“For what?”

“Damned if I know.”

“What do we do then? We’re not going back in there.” Jenna gestured back towards the hospital.

“I’ve got a key to Mum’s.”

“What about the roadblocks?”

Liam rubbed the back of his neck, eyes shifting from the police cars to the blocked streets, then back towards the hospital. “It’s about a mile or two from here. If we stick to the back streets, we should be okay.”

“You sure you know where you’re going?”

“I used to ride my bike on these roads all the time when I was a kid. We’ll head past the park and see what it’s like by the fire station. It’s a pretty busy junction up that way, so it might be blocked.”

Jenna nodded and took Liam’s hand. They crossed the road, following the park railings on their right, the grass extending into darkness.

They passed shops, billboards, and a zebra crossing.

Terraced houses lined the road on both sides, smudges of light pouring through the cracks in curtains. The road stretched ahead, its surface damp and glistening with the reflected orange glow from streetlights.

Liam stopped when they reached the fire station and swept his gaze across the intersection. To the left, a derelict pub stood silent in the darkness, its windows fortified with sheets of grey steel. A supermarket and carpark lay to the right, dull lights shining from within. The glare from a filling station spilled out onto the road. “Looks alright,” said Liam. “No coppers.”

Jenna nodded. “No cars either.”

He groped around in his jacket pocket, searching for his wallet. “I’m going to grab a Coke. You want anything?”

“Just get us a Twirl, something chocolatey.”

He made a wry smile. “Diet out the window then?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

Grinning, Liam walked onto the forecourt and headed to the door. He pulled the handle, but the door didn’t budge.

The man behind the counter waved for him to go to a serving hatch.

Reaching the window, Liam started when greeted by a man wearing a medical mask.

“What you want?” the man asked. Liam couldn’t place his accent, but it was probably Eastern European.

“Just a Coke, mate. Actually, a Twirl as well, maybe a bag of Quavers.”

The man sauntered around the shop, grabbing the items from a fridge and shelves before returning. Liam dropped a ten-pound note into the sliding drawer and the man exchanged it for the items, followed by Liam’s change.

“Any idea what’s going on?”

“The authorities have blocked the roads.”

“I saw. What are they saying?”

“They say for people not to panic, you know?”

Liam shook his head. “That’s the worst advice. Any idea what’s causing it?”

The man shrugged and shook his head. “An outbreak of something. They say it’s not just here. They close airports, ship ports, buses, trains.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Sounds serious.”

“America, India, Australia, Ukraine. Everywhere they say is closed.”

“They cordoned off New Cross.”

“I hear. And now you are only customer.”

Liam glanced over to Jenna. “I’d better go, mate. Take care.” He strode over to Jenna. “Twirl.” He held the purple and gold packet between a thumb and forefinger.

Jenna snatched it, tore off its wrapper, and took a bite. “What were you talking about?” she asked between mouthfuls as they started along the road.

“He was saying they closed all the airports.”

“Even Heathrow?” Jenna asked, wiping her mouth with a sleeve.

“Heathrow, everywhere. Australia, America. Did you see him?”

Jenna shook her head. “Not really.”

“He was wearing a medical mask. Said about the outbreak.”

“Of what?”

Liam shrugged as they passed between a pair of churches. The one on the left nestled among trees, all glass and angular brickwork. The other church hid behind spiked railings—dour stone and gothic lines. “Feels like Christmas.”

“Christmas?”

“Just with the cars, how quiet it is.”

“I suppose. I tried to call my mum again when you were speaking to that bloke.”

“And?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Still no signal.”

“She’ll understand. She’ll have seen the news.” He gazed up at a peeling billboard, the front end of a silver car visible beneath the drooping paper.

They passed a McDonald’s and a Tesco filling station, skirting by a cluster of shops, one of them boasting ‘Drinks for Less’ in two-foot letters.

Reaching a roundabout, they took the second exit and followed the line of semi-detached council houses, their garden walls identical, with curved iron railings and dark red brickwork shimmering against the lamplight.

They took a right.

Liam stopped when his mother’s house emerged on the next corner, her Nissan Micra parked in the driveway. He swallowed.

“You okay?” Jenna asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I...I’ll be fine.” He cleared his throat.

Reaching the door, he took out his bunch of keys and groped for the right one. The lock clicked. His mother’s air freshener hit him.

Jenna flicked on the sitting room light and slumped onto the sofa.

Liam stood in the doorway, taking in the patterned wallpaper, the plush carpet, the ornamental cats, the patterned sofas, and the framed photos—a picture of him in primary school with messy blond hair, his graduation, his mum and dad’s wedding.

Exhausted, He flopped onto the sofa next to Jenna and let out a long, deep sigh. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

Jenna placed a hand on his knee. “I know.”

12. Tina

Tina knocked back the last bitter dregs of coffee when the sergeant approached her.

“You’re going to be at...” He ran a finger down a clipboard. “North Staffs Hospital. We need a roadblock from the A34 leading into the A&E.”

“No problem.”

“You’ll be partnered with Officer Fielding.”

Tina stiffened. She tried to avoid speaking to Jack since she called off the affair.

“Is that going to be a problem?”

“Not at all.” She raised her chin. “We’ve all got a job to do.”

The sergeant made a quick smile. “Good. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how serious this is.”

Tina gave a slight nod. “Understood.”

13. Liam

Liam stared at the ceiling as the first hints of morning sun seeped through the curtains. He sighed and turned to Jenna. “You awake?”

Jenna rolled over, pulling the sheets around her shoulders, and muttered something under her breath.

Sitting up, Liam took in the familiar scents—his mum’s washing powder, the hint of potpourri, the lavender air freshener drifting from the landing. He slipped out of the bed, pulling on his jeans and T-shirt from the night before and heading to the bathroom.

Liam pulled the light cord and rubbed his eyes as the bulb flickered to life. The aubergine toilet bowl, bath, and sink matched the toilet roll.

He filled the sink and washed his face. How were they going to get back to Tommy?

Drying himself with a fluffy white towel, he recalled the man who had joined him in the shipping container, imagining how he had fought his way free of the hospital with the guard’s baton. Perhaps he managed to hijack a helicopter and was well on the way to Norway.

The house stood hollow, empty, wrong.

Liam sucked in a long breath as the looming prospect of legal paperwork and funeral arrangements filled his mind. He was sure his mother had mentioned something about taking out a funeral plan, but with the job situation at the paper being so precarious, it was only a matter of time before he was next on the redundancy block. “Bollocks,” he muttered, making his way down the stairs. He’d been estranged from his brother for over a decade, but he’d be crawling out of the woodwork to stake his claim. He let out a sigh. All he wanted to do was be at home with Jenna and Tommy and not have to deal with any of this crap.

He stumbled through the sitting room and into the kitchen, filling the kettle and turning it on. The fridge stood in silence, empty, its door held open with a pedal bin. The stench of something musty, something rotten sent heaves through his stomach. The cupboards lay half-bare, save for a few tins of beans and a bottle of HP sauce.

Pouring a tin of beans into a saucepan, he lit the gas hob and placed the pan over the flame.

At the sink, he rinsed a mug and spooned in a mound of instant coffee, stirring the granules as he poured water from the kettle. A deep trembling sigh filled the space around him and he stared down at his hands, shaking his head, wondering how she could be dead.

Could he have done more? Was there a way he could have prevented her illness?

The simmering beans brought him out of his daze and he heaped them into a bowl, leaning on the worktop as he scooped them into his mouth, hardly chewing.

“Hey,” Jenna said, leaning in the doorway as she raked an Afro comb through her hair. “You sleep okay?”

Liam shook his head. “I’ll be okay. You want a coffee? There’s no milk.”

She walked over to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll sort it. Any more beans?”

“Some left in the pan if you want.”

“Managed to get your phone charged?”

“Forgot, sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She filled the kettle. “How you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“I mean—”

“I know what you mean,” Liam snapped. He raised his hands and turned to Jenna. “Sorry.” He rubbed his eyes and stared at nothing. “I don’t know. It’s weird. It’s like, on a logical level, I know what happened, and I can accept that. But then I look around, and there’s all her stuff, all the usual smells. She could have just popped out for some milk, gone to the bingo, or something. I know it happened, but it doesn’t feel real.” He met her gaze. “I could really do with a fag right now.”

“Don’t start on those things again. It was hard enough giving up the first time.” Jenna placed her arms around him, holding him. She kissed him and stroked his hair. “You’ll be okay. I’m here for you.”

Liam nodded and squeezed her hand. “I know.”

When the kettle clicked, Jenna made herself a coffee, the spoon tinkling against the cup as she stirred. “I tried calling Mum again.”

“Any luck?”

She shook her head. “Figured I’d call her from here.”

“Not going to happen.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I got her to take the phone out a few years ago.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Jenna sighed. “We need to speak to her.”

“Tommy will be fine.”

“I know. I just hate being out of touch with them.”

Liam sipped his coffee and stared through the window, sweeping his gaze over the back garden, following the trunk of a towering poplar. A squirrel shot along a branch. “I’m pretty sure there’s a phone box near the shops. We can call her from there.”

“You sure?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Pretty sure.”

––––––––

When they finished their breakfast, Liam grabbed his jacket from the sofa and went out onto the street. The sun shone brightly, casting long shadows along the pavements. He took Jenna’s hand and they walked in silence. They took a left, passing an adventure playground, its iron railings chained shut with a bulky padlock. Liam thought back to his days when he used to play on the rope swings and dig in the sandpits, and get into scrapes with boys from the estate.

They reached the traffic island surrounded by shops—the convenience store, the chip shop, the Chinese takeaway, the pharmacy, the newsagents.

“It’s really quiet,” Jenna said.

“It’s early.” Liam offered her a shrug. “Shops will still be closed.”

“It’s so weird without cars.”

They crossed the road to the right, moving past a hardware store. Liam stopped and shook his head. “I’m sure there used to be a phone box around here.”

“About fifteen years ago, maybe.”

“What should we do?”

“Get on the road. Get back to Tommy.”

“The roads are blocked and we can’t get to the car.”

“We could use your mum’s. It’s not like...” Her voice trailed off.

“I don’t know.”

“We need to try something.”

“What about the roadblocks?”

Jenna frowned. “We can deal with them when we need to. Please, Liam. Let’s just get on the road, get Tommy, and go home.”

“What about funeral arrangements?”

“It’s all sorted. Your mum said a few years back. Seemed a bit morbid at the time. We just need to focus on getting Tommy.”

The edges of Liam’s mouth twitched. “Okay. You’re right.”

14. Michael

Michael shook his head at the roadblock still at the end of his street. He pulled his blinds shut and paced around his living room, hating them all.

How could they be so short-sighted?

They needed his help.

Why were they so willing to ignore his talents? He could be out there right now helping. But instead, he was inside with only a box of tissues and Pornhub for company.

He dragged his phone out of his pocket and texted his wife. ‘U okay?’

Staring at the screen, he waited for her to respond. After five minutes or so, he cursed and made himself a cup of Earl Grey.

He opened his laptop as the phone buzzed in his pocket. “Finally decided to text back?” he muttered.

‘It’s crazy here. U?’ the message read.

‘There was a dead woman along our street,’ he wrote.

‘I heard. Stay inside.’

‘Official advice? :)’

‘I think it’s the plague. Or something like it.’

He stared at the words for half-a-minute before responding. ‘As in the Black Death?’

‘Yes x.’

‘I want to help.’

‘No.’

‘:(‘

‘No. Stay inside. Don’t get exposed.’ Another message pinged. ‘luv u x’

‘You too x’

‘Will text later x.’

He tossed the phone onto the sofa and sighed. There was no way he was staying inside. He had to do something.

15. Liam

Liam adjusted the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt as his mum’s car purred to life.

Jenna glanced over her shoulder, reversed from the driveway, and onto the street. She studied the gearstick, an unsure expression clouding her face.

“Everything okay?” Liam asked.

“Just a different layout to ours.” The gears let out a metallic crunch and the car lurched forward.

“We should head to the M6, see what’s what.”

Jenna nodded and took a right, heading downhill, driving past parked cars and rows of identical semi-detached houses. She made another right at the bottom of the hill, then a quick left onto the main road.

Liam squinted at the corner shop, an unfolded cardboard box taped across its front window, the words ‘closed’ scrawled along it in daubs of black paint. “Weird.”

“What?”

Liam gestured to the sign. “Never known that shop to be closed.”

Jenna didn’t respond and instead wound down a window to adjust a wing mirror as they headed towards the motorway. They crossed a roundabout and came to a stop near a police roadblock.

An officer ambled towards them, his features obscured by a gas mask. “You can’t come this way,” he said, his voice muffled through the layer of thick rubber.

“We need to get to Leeds,” Liam said, leaning past Jenna.

The officer shook his head. “Not until the plague is contained.”

“Plague? What sort of plague?” Jenna asked.

“The plague,” the officer said, offering a half-shrug.

She gave Liam a confused look and turned back to the officer. “The plague? As in the plague-plague, as in the Black Death, as in buboes?”

“That’s what it looks like. Might be a different disease, but they’re your symptoms.”

“Right.” Jenna let out a long breath through her nose. “We need to get our son.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s four. I need to get him from my mother’s. She lives in Leeds.”

“Is he safe?”

“Yes.” She drummed on the steering wheel. “But we need to get him.”

The officer folded his arms and gestured behind him. “The motorways are closed. We’ve been asked to stop the movement of people. If he’s safe, you just need to wait this thing out.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know. As long as it takes. People are dying. This thing is spreading. It’s very important that we all do our part.”

“I need to get our son.”

The officer shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, his breath clicking and wheezing through the gas mask. “I’ve got two kids myself.”

“Then you know how hard this is for us.”

“I’m sorry. If I could ask you to move away.”

Jenna nodded. “Fine.” The gears crunched as she reversed the car in a half-circle, facing back the way they had come. She wound up the window and drove forward.

Liam watched the roadblock shrinking in the rear-view mirror. “Now what?”

After a long silence, Jenna pulled the car to the kerb and turned off the engine. She banged a fist against the steering wheel, the car’s horn rasping out. “We need to get Tommy.”

Liam flinched at the tightness of her jaw, the grim look in her eyes. She was right. What if Sandra got ill? Who would look after Tommy? “So, what’s the plan? We can’t take the train. The roads are blocked.”

Jenna folded her arms across her chest. “I’ll walk if we have to.”

Liam shook his head. “Do you know how long that’ll take?”

Jenna didn’t respond.

“Maybe five days. Maybe a week. Who knows? Maybe this thing will have blown over by then.”

“And if it doesn’t? I’m not staying here with the hope that things will get back to normal. We need to go.”

“Okay. We’ll head back to Mum’s and get some stuff together.”

Jenna let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“What the hell?” Liam tilted his head, his eyes fixed on seven or eight dead bodies piled against a garden wall. He opened his door and stepped outside, the acrid stench of death thick in the air.

Jenna unwound her window. “Where are you going?”

“We should call someone.”

“On what?”

With a forearm across his nose, Liam surveyed the bodies from about ten metres away, not daring to go closer. The corpses lay in a haphazard pile, their mouths and eyes open, their skin pale and peppered with bruises. Flies buzzed around them, humming a low drone. He turned back, staggering towards the car, and jumped back inside. “Go back to the roadblock. We should tell the police.”

“You think it’s the plague?”

Liam shuddered. “Looks that way.”

Jenna turned the car and drove back towards the roadblock.

The police officer emerged, this time holding a rifle.

Jenna brought the car to a stop.

Heart racing, Liam opened his door, raising his hands when he stepped outside.

“Turn your car around,” the officer ordered, his voice deeper, louder.

Liam gestured over his shoulder. “There’s some bodies about half-a-mile back there.”

The officer lowered his rifle and moved towards the car. “What do you mean?”

“I think they had the plague. Someone needs to do something.”

“Resources are stretched. There’s nothing we can do.”

“But there are corpses on the side of the road.”

“Did you touch them?”

“What?” Liam shook his head. “No.”

“Are you sure?” The officer lifted his rifle.

Liam glanced down the barrel and swallowed. “No. I promise. I just thought someone should know.”

The officer nodded. “Go. Don’t let me see you back here.”

“Okay. Just trying to do the right thing. I’ll be going.” He climbed back into the car, his eyes locked on the rifle as he closed the door. “Let’s go.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he doesn’t want to see us back here. He was quite threatening.”

“He can’t do that. We should report him.”

Liam shook his head and let out a bitter laugh. “I think that ship has sailed. Things are going to be different now.”

16. Tina

Tina stopped outside the briefing room as a woman she didn’t recognise stood in front of the detectives. “We’ve heard chatter that they are mobilising around several key cities. As yet, it is unclear what their motives are, but we are considering the Doctors a terrorist threat.”

Tina squinted at the image of a man in black leather wearing a bird mask.

“Officer?”

Tina glanced at the woman and turned her focus back to the image. “Sorry, what’s this?”

“Just be on the lookout for anyone dressed like this. Call in if you see anyone.”

She nodded and turned back along the corridor. She knocked on her sergeant’s office door and entered. “Why didn’t you brief us about the Doctors?”

“Because your orders are to man the roadblock.”

“You know as well as I do that I’d be better investigating those Doctors.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Is this about Michael?”

The sergeant shook his head. “Not at all.”

“You call me in off leave to put me on a roadblock when I could be doing real police work?”

“The Doctors investigation is in hand.”

“Fine.” Tina hesitated before leaving.

“What is it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“If this is about Fielding—”

“Forget it.” Rolling her eyes, she turned and marched off.

17. Liam

Liam coughed as a clump of dust fell on his face from a roof beam. Torchlight caught the edges of bags and boxes and swooping lines of ancient cobwebs. The remains of a long-abandoned wasp nest stood nestled in the far corner.

Jenna held onto the ladder below. “Anything good?”

“Not yet. Can’t believe she kept old shopping bags.” He crawled along the network of beams, avoiding the insulation foam at his knees. His rucksack from his year backpacking in Thailand lay flat next to a pair of sagging refuse sacks.

He picked it up and shook away the dust. “Here.” He lowered it from the loft’s entrance. “My old rucksack.”

He crawled backwards, his eyes resting on an old cricket bat. Reaching for its rubber grip, he grabbed the handle and felt the familiar weight, the willow’s smoothness, and smiled, remembering the days in the park with his father learning how to play cricket.

Sighing, he made his way back to the entrance and lowered the bat to Jenna.

“What’s this for?”

“I used to swing this thing pretty hard.”

“You’re going to use it as a weapon?”

“Let’s hope not. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared though.” Liam lowered himself onto the stepladder, its frame creaking and wobbling as it took his weight.

They made their way downstairs and into the kitchen and loaded the rucksack with tins.

“You think your mum’s got any bottled water?”

Liam shrugged. “I don’t know. I got a Coke bottle we can use. There might be some bike bottles in the shed, but who knows what kind of state they’ll be in.”

“Bike bottles? That’s it. Show me.” Jenna rubbed her hands together.

“What is it?”

She smiled. “The bikes. We could take the bikes.”

“Maybe.” Liam glanced towards the back door. “I don’t think they’ve been out since last summer, though.”

Jenna marched across the kitchen and opened the back door.

Liam followed her outside, grabbing the back door key from the lock. “You’ll need this.” He thrust the key into the shed door’s lock, wiggling it until it turned. The smells of grass cuttings and engine oil spilled out.

Jenna brushed a sleeve against the plastic window, wiping away the layer of dust.

“Here.” Liam pulled aside a blue polythene sheet, exposing a pair of cheap-looking mountain bikes.

Jenna move to his side, leaning past him and prodding the tyres. “You got a pump?”

“Should be one around here somewhere.” Liam shoved a lawnmower aside as Jenna wheeled the bikes outside. He glanced around to see her turning the bikes upside-down, resting them on their saddles and handlebars, testing the pedals and squeezing the tyres. He grabbed a bottle of WD-40 and snatched a bike pump from a shelf.

Back outside, he squirted the bike chains and the wheel nuts with the oil and inflated the tyres. “Hopefully, none of them will have a slow-puncture.”

“You should bring the pump.” Jenna righted the bikes.

“Good plan.” Liam kissed her on the cheek and went back into the house, filling the Coke bottle with water. He swung the rucksack onto his shoulders, for an instant being taken back to sleeping in flea-ridden hostels and getting his passport stolen in Bangkok, where he had first met Jenna outside the Wat Umong temple in Chiang Mai. Her friends wanted a group photo, and he was only too happy to oblige.

He locked the back door as Jenna stuffed the pump and cricket bat into the rucksack. “You ready?”

She nodded and they wheeled the bikes to the back gate and onto the road.

Liam looked his mother’s house up and down and swallowed.

“You going to be okay?”

He raised his chin. “I’m going to have to be.”

Jenna led the way down the hill, towards the main road, wobbling for the first few tentative metres. They rode past the corner shop and took a broad arc past the place where the bodies lay piled against a garden wall. Liam took a right onto a country lane before they reached the roadblock.

Jenna joined his side. “Where are we going?”

“I used to play by these clay pools when I was a kid. I remember there used to be a tunnel under the motorway.”

“You sure it’s still there?”

Liam shook his head. “Only one way to find out.” He leaned into the bike, pushing hard on the pedals and changing gear as the road sloped upwards. “I figured once we get past the M54, we can cut near the prison and get on the M6 away from the junctions.”

The quarry and industrial units gave way to farmland as potholes and smeared cow dung replaced the road markings. Liam brought the bike to a halt at the end of a muddy track. “This is it.”

“Doesn’t look like much.”

“Follow me.” Liam rode along the raised section of ground between the two parallel tracks, ducking beneath overhanging branches, riding past fishing pools until the track came to an end. He climbed off the bike, pushing it over bumpy ground as the embankment to the motorway came into view. He stopped and scanned along the highway’s edge. “There we go.”

Jenna’s lip curled. “I don’t like the look of that.”

“We’ll be fine.” He pulled the cricket bat from his rucksack, holding it against the handlebars as he wheeled the bike towards the tunnel.

Reaching the entrance, the tunnel stretched long, dark, and thin ahead of them. Its corrugated iron sides arched half-a-metre above their heads. Liam wrinkled his nose at the stench of stale piss and cider. Used needles cracked under his shoes.

“It stinks.”

“Watch your tyres.” Liam kicked broken glass aside, starting at the metallic crunch of an old beer can.

Jenna let out a relieved sigh when they stepped back into the open air. “Thank God.” She shook her head. “And you used to play around here?”

Liam glanced up at the remains of a crumbling bell tower and climbed back onto his bike, pedalling across soft fields. They lifted the bikes over a farm gate and onto a road. “I think if we follow this road straight along here, we’ll end up by the prison. I think as long as we keep away from the main intersections, we should be okay.”

They followed the road for another mile or so, passing shops and houses. After a while, the prison’s towering fence loomed ahead, the fortress-like structure standing grey and silent. Liam brought his bike to a halt, frowning at the bodies piled against the fence.

Jenna stopped at his side, staring at the corpses. “What should we do?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Keep going, I guess.” He shook his head and pushed his bike across the fields until they reached the M6 motorway.

Lifting the bike frames onto their shoulders, they clambered up the embankment towards the highway, staggering onto the silent asphalt.

“This is weird.” Jenna leaned on her bike and glanced back over her shoulder. “Can’t believe how quiet it is.”

“That’s good for us. No cars. No police. We’ll just head north.” He slid his cricket bat back into his rucksack and offered her a smile. “You okay?”

“It’s so big. You don’t really notice it when you’re driving.”

“What is?”

“The road. How wide it is.”

“Let’s not hang around.” He pushed down on his pedals. “We’ve got a long ride ahead of us.”

18. Michael

Michael blinked at the BBC News website, hitting refresh again.

He stared raw-eyed at the headlines and scrolled the articles, all the while shaking his head.

Millions infected.

Much worse than Covid.

Deaths across Europe, America, the Middle East, Asia.

The symptoms were described as being similar to the Black Death—buboes, coughing up blood, swelling around the armpits and groin.

What was he going to do?

He slammed the laptop shut and ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

He stared at nothing for a long time.

“Fuck.”

Wringing his hands, he paced back and forth. He should be out there with his fellow officers. He should be protecting the public, not cowering at home.

“Fuck.”

19. Liam

The sun hung low in the sky by the time Liam and Jenna turned off the exit ramp to Sandbach services. They cycled through the empty car park as a fast-food wrapper caught the wind and danced in swirls of dust and brown leaves.

Jenna brought her bike to a halt. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Liam offered her a smile. “It’s quiet. It’ll be fine.” He patted his bat, its handle poking from his rucksack. “I’ve got this bad-boy if anything happens.”

The automatic doors slid open before them as striplights bore down on them from above. Metal shutters blocked the entrances to a Costa coffee shop, a McDonald’s, and amusement arcades. A TV screen flickered from the left-hand wall.

“I’m going to go to the loo,” Jenna said. “Clean myself up.”

“Shame everything’s shut. Could go for a quarter-pounder with cheese right about now.”

When Jenna disappeared into the toilets, Liam’s eyes drifted towards the television screen. A blur of words ran across images of bodies and roadblocks, of buboes and bloodshot eyes. ‘Quarantine,’ ‘millions dead,’ and ‘global pandemic’ flashed along the screen. Cloaked figures in garish masks waved incense. How had all this happened? What was with the masks?

“This is real, isn’t it?”

Liam started at Jenna’s words and managed a nod.

“I tried the payphones, but none of them worked.”

“Right.” Liam rubbed his chin. “We’ll stay here tonight. It’s warm and there are showers and toilets.”

“I just hope Tommy’s okay.”

Glancing back up at the screen, Liam shook his head and reached for the power button.

“We should leave it on.”

“It’s just a loop. Nothing helpful.”

“There’s a snack machine on the way to the loos. You got any money?”

Liam groped inside his jacket pockets and retrieved a pound coin. “What do you want?”

Jenna shrugged. “Whatever. If that’s all you’ve got...” She shook her head. “Service station prices.”

Thighs burning from the ride, Liam made his way towards the toilets, each step like pushing through mud. Coming to a halt at the vending machine, he gazed through the glass, packets of crisps and chocolate bars secured by black spirals. “One pound fifty for a bag of crisps?”

Shaking his head, he turned then stopped. The cricket bat pressed against his back. He slid it from the pack and swung it full-force against the glass. He staggered back as a jolt of pain shot up his arm.

A spider web of cracks dented the glass in whites and greys.

He caught a glimpse of his shattered reflection.

“You okay?” Jenna called.

Liam swung the bat again, grinning when it broke through. He struck around the hole, knocking the rest of the glass to the floor.

Jenna glared at him.

“Here.” He snatched a couple of packets of roast beef Monster Munch, the image of a pink-faced creature leering back at him.

“You broke in?” Jenna shook her head.

“You should have seen how much they’re charging for a bag of crisps. They would have been robbing us.” He grabbed a handful of Double Deckers and Wispas and stuffed them into his pack. “The way things are, I think they’ve got bigger things to worry about than some bloody snacks.”

She held his gaze for a long moment then gestured into the machine. “Grab us a couple of those Twirls.”

20. Tina

“Partners again,” Jack said, offering Tina his usual Buzz Lightyear smile—white teeth, chiselled jaw, dimpled cheeks.

Tina forced a laugh—it came out sounding more awkward than she would have liked. What did she ever see in him? The guy loved himself. He spent more time preening himself before the mirror than she did getting ready for a night out.

“I’m thinking of doing another Ironman.” He leaned a hand on the barrier, pulling it aside to let an ambulance through.

“Right.”

“They’re proper hardcore. Takes a lot of dedication, you know?”

Tina checked her rifle again and stared ahead.

“This is going to be a long afternoon if you’re just planning to stand there.”

“We’re here to do a job.”

Jack raised a hand and took a step back. “I’m just being friendly. No need to be a bitch.”

Tina glared at him.

He gave another one of those smiles.

Tina averted her gaze.

“How’s Michael? I hear his thing’s coming up soon.”

“What do you care?”

“He used to be a mate. He’s a copper. I care.”

Tina relaxed and sighed. “He’s struggling, okay?”

“I’ve got a new bird now. I just care—”

“Don’t.” She turned away from him.

He kicked a stone. “I’m not trying to do the come-on, if that’s what you think.”

“I just wish he could accept it’s over.” She let out a sigh. “Being in the police was everything to him. He spends his days in the house. I just want him to get out there and find a new job, or something.”

“Maybe he’ll get through the disciplinary.”

“Yeah, right.”

He stared at something in the middle distance before turning back to her. “What that bloke did to those girls.” He shook his head. “I would have done the same.”

Tina shrugged. “Doesn’t make it right though, does it?”

“He got away with it, and based on what? A fucking technicality?”

“You’re meant to be police, not a dick-swinging vigilante.”

Jack raised a hand again and took another step back. “All I’m saying is, I get it. And I’m sure that whoever does this hearing’ll get it as well.”

“I appreciate your support, but it’s not going to—”

He raised a hand when his walkie-talkie crackled. “Repeat that, please.” His eyes widened.

“What is it?”

“Is your rifle loaded?”

“Of course.”

Jack took in a breath. “We need to go.”

21. Liam

“You sure this is the best way?” Jenna asked as they lifted their bikes from the motorway and dropped onto a field.

“I know how to get there by road.” Liam gritted his teeth. “I’ve never had to walk before.”

“Just seems a bit of a contrived route.”

Liam turned and glared at her, sharp breaths leaving his nose. “You got a better suggestion?”

Jenna raised her hands. “I just think maybe we should have looked for a map or something.”

“Well, maybe you should have mentioned something earlier.” Liam marched on ahead, leaning over the handlebars as he pushed the bike over the muddy ground.

He glanced over to his right and caught the edge of a roadblock near the motorway junction. “There you go.” He gestured towards a police car. “I told you there’d still be roadblocks.”

Jenna sighed. “Yes, yes. You were right. I’ll make sure to order your fucking medal as soon as we get home.”

“You don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

“And you don’t need to be a dick, but here we are.”

Liam sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I hardly slept last night. My legs are tired. I’m—”

“I’m tired too.”

“We’re both tired. Let’s just try to make an effort not to snipe at each other. Deal?”

Jenna nodded. “Sorry. It’s just...” Her voice trailed off.

“I know.” He nodded towards the fence running along the main road. “We should get on the path. I don’t think we’ll have another roadblock until we get to the M56.”

Jenna climbed the fence first and Liam passed her the bikes. “We should maybe stop for some food at some point. Some pretty big houses along here. I bet they’re empty.”

Liam vaulted the fence. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, there’s no point in breaking into our food if we can avoid it. People around here probably took the first plane to the Bahamas.”

“You saying we should, what, break in? We should burgle them? I mean, a vending machine is one thing, but...”

Jenna rubbed the back of her neck, a deep line creasing her brow. “There is no crime if there is no victim. If the house is empty.” She shrugged.

Silence stretched between them. Liam lowered himself onto his bike, gripping the handlebars. “I hope Tommy—”

“Don’t!” Jenna snapped, jerking up a hand, shaking her head violently. “Don’t say that.”

But what if Tommy was ill? What if they were already too late? He needed to keep focused, focused on the things he could be certain of. He swallowed and pushed down his pedals, following the road, four lanes stretching ahead, large houses blurring by.

“What about this one?” Jenna said.

Bringing the bike to a halt, he gestured to a grand house with a mock Tudor front, a driveway made of perfectly white gravel extending towards a trio of garages. Stone lions stood sentry on a pair of gateposts. “I’d hate to live on here.”

“I’d love to live in a house like that,” Jenna said, stopping at his side.

“The house is nice enough, don’t get me wrong. But this road.” He shook his head. “Might be a big house, but you’ve still got all the noise and fumes.”

“I suppose.” She shrugged.

“I just think if you’re going to spend that kind of money on a house, maybe get somewhere a bit quieter where you’re not going to be breathing in a couple of tonnes of fumes every day.”

Jenna pedalled forward, turning into the driveway, gravel crunching beneath her tyres.

“Where are you going?”

“To take a look.”

Liam glanced around and shrugged, following her along the driveway.

Jenna got off her bike and leaned it against the wall next to the front door, and looked through the windows. “I don’t think there’s anyone in. Lights are off.” She knocked at the front door, took a step back, and turned to Liam. “No one’s home.”

“There are police about a mile back there.”

“So?” Jenna reached down, picked up a rock, and hurled it through the nearest window.

“Jesus, Jenna. Talk about being subtle.” He shimmied his cricket bat free from his bag. Taking its handle, he swung it at the remaining glass.

Jenna removed her coat and laid it over the window frame. She heaved herself inside.

Liam followed.

Glass shards cracked under his shoes as he made his way past chesterfield sofas and green-shaded lamps.

Jenna tried a light switch, but nothing happened.

“This room’s huge.”

She gasped. “They’ve got a full-size piano. And an open fire. Always wanted an open fire.”

“Let’s not hang around. I think I can smell the kitchen. Power must be out.” He opened a polished oak door and raised his eyebrows at the broad swooping staircase.

Jenna opened the second door and stopped, covering her mouth with a forearm as she turned away. “Oh, God.”

“What is it?” Liam ran towards her, almost tripping on the rug. He stared down at the half-naked bloated corpse of a chubby man. Flies teemed over his flesh. Purple egg-sized lumps swelled around his armpits. Liam staggered back at the stench. “We should go.”

“Are they buboes?” Jenna’s words came out frantic, her breath gasping.

Liam grabbed her arm, dragging her away from the door, slamming it behind them. “Come on. We don’t want to catch whatever that was.”

“It’s the plague, Liam. It’s the fucking Black Death.”

They turned and leaped through the window, tumbling onto the ground outside. Picking up their bikes, they rode back onto the road, pedalling at full-speed.

22. Michael

Michael trudged up the stairs to his bedroom and dragged a suitcase out from the top of his wardrobe. He flipped it open on the bed to reveal an assortment of black and red rubber fetish gear, handcuffs and leather restraints. He dragged a black rubber suit from the case and flapped away the creases.

Rubbing talcum powder along his arms and legs, he pulled on the suit, rolling it past his knees and contorting his body to pull it onto his arms. It was definitely tighter than it used to be.

He took a gas mask and a pair of rubber gloves from the case and turned the mask in his hands before slipping it over his head. Heat spread across his body as the sound grew dull around him.

He reached deep into the wardrobe and pulled out a steel flight case. He opened the combination lock and flipped open the lid.

The revolver caught the light.

He shifted clothes across the rail and retrieved a rain mac. Pocketing the pistol and gloves, he scooped up the bullets and stuffed them carefully into an inside pocket.

As the sweat gathered on his back and forehead, he returned the cases to his wardrobe and made his way downstairs to the sitting room.

He picked up his phone and texted Tina. ‘I’m going to help,’ he wrote.

His phone buzzed.

‘Don’t.’

He sniffed at Tina’s response. He tossed the phone back onto the sofa and snapped on his rubber gloves.

23. Liam

The sunset threw pink and orange streaks across Manchester’s skyline. The hodgepodge of houses, industrial units, and glistening office buildings stretched for miles.

“How long do you think we’ve got until it goes dark?” Jenna asked.

Liam shrugged. “No more than an hour, maybe.”

“You planning on going all the way round?”

“I don’t think we should go through the city. We can join the M62 from here. Hopefully, we won’t come across any more roadblocks.”

Jenna shook her head and stared down at her fingernails.

“What?”

“I think we’re going to be adding a lot of miles. I don’t really like the prospect of—”

“Excuse me, mate,” a voice called from behind them.

Liam turned to see a pair of teenagers swaggering towards them.

The tallest wore a North Face jacket over a black hoodie. A white baseball cap pointed at a jaunty angle on top of his head, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. “Either of you twos got a light?”

“Sorry, mate.” Liam shrugged one shoulder. “I gave up.”

The shorter lad smirked, his face obscured beneath a grey hoodie. “What you got in your bag?”

“What?”

“Gaz asked what’s in your fuckin’ bag.”

“Come on, Jenna.”

The taller lad squared up to Liam. “You ain’t going nowhere, mate. We’re the fuckin’ Levenshulme Massive. Me and our kid have been to prison.”

A smile curled at the corner of Liam’s lips.

“You fuckin’ laughing, mate? Something funny?”

“I’ll give you a Double Decker if you fuck off and leave us alone.” Liam reached into his pocket and waved a pair of chocolate bars before the taller one’s face.

“Don’t fuckin’ wave your shit at me, you fuckin’ bell-end.”

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Don’t fuckin’ talk about my mum. You don’t talk about my mum.” He lunged forward.

Liam dodged to one side, avoiding the swinging fists.

The lad tumbled to the ground, rolling on concrete. Groaning, he got to his feet and pushed out his chest. “You flinched, mate.”

“Just jog on,” Liam snarled.

“You starting me?” Gaz asked. “You want some. I do MMA. I’ll knock you the fuck out.”

“Kid, you’re about twelve.”

Gaz pulled a knife, grinning as Liam’s expression dropped.

“Cut him, Gaz. Fuck him up.”

Jenna raised her hands. “Boys, please. You don’t need to do anything stupid. There are police everywhere. It’s not worth it.”

The taller lad glanced between Jenna and Liam. “Me and our kid have been to prison. Police ain’t shit to us.”

Liam blocked the way when the taller lad stepped towards Jenna. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Cut him, Gaz.”

Gaz charged forward, waving the knife in front of him.

Liam twisted and slapped the knife out of Gaz’s hand, following it as it spun along the asphalt, coming to a stop near the central reservation. He lunged after it, grabbing it with a flick of his wrist and tossing it over the highway’s edge to the streets below.

“What you do that for?” the taller one asked, circling Liam. The lad jumped forward, knee-first, knocking Liam to the ground.

“Get off him,” Jenna called.

Liam curled into a ball as the lads laid into him with kicks and punches and elbows, pummelling his back and sides.

One of them grabbed Liam’s hair and slammed his head down on the concrete.

White light flared in his vision.

Jenna growled behind him and one of the lads ran away.

Groaning and dizzy, Liam felt his arms grow weak, the muscles in his legs spasming with pain. Another blow struck the back of his head.

Jenna cried out in pain.

Liam crumpled.

24. Tina

A police car lay on its side as bonfires raged to Tina’s left. Crowds of people pushed against a barrier as police officers beat them back with truncheons.

“Where the hell’s the riot squad?” Tina asked, running to Jack’s side. “Been called to Stoke and Hanley. Students are apparently messing shit up at Keele too. “

“Fuck.” Tina staggered backwards as she pushed against the barrier, trying to hold people back.

Officers and civilians exchanged insults as she dodged another flying house brick.

“We should fall back,” she said. “Our orders are to keep things contained.” She stared along Market Street at the sound of roaring motorbikes hurtling towards them.

“Shit! They’re going to ram us.”

25. Liam

Liam blinked up at the dusky sky.

A high-pitched tone rang in his ears.

Why did his shoulder throb?

He blinked again, frowning at the night.

Why was he lying on the road?

“Liam,” came a distant voice. “Liam.”

Pain shot along his back, his head throbbing. Letting out an agonised groan, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and licked his split lip. The world around him was soft and woolly.

“Liam.” Jenna leaned over him, shaking his shoulders, her face swollen and bloody. “Liam!”

“What...what happened?”

“Thank God.” She leaned down and embraced him.

He cringed with the pain, with the bruises and the cracked rib. “You okay?”

Jenna nodded. “Pretty beat-up. Nothing serious, I don’t think. Those fucking scallies.”

“Where are they?” Liam shot up, pushing Jenna aside, rage and adrenaline gripping him. “If I see those little pricks again, I swear to God, I’ll kill them.” He scanned roadside, checking for movement, shuddering breaths leaving his chest.

Jenna placed a hand on his shoulder, gentle, reassuring. “They’re gone. It’s okay.”

“So pointless.” He shook his head as dark clouds eddied around the moon. “We should probably find somewhere to sleep.” He glanced along the ground. “Where are the bikes?”

Jenna frowned. “Where do you think?”

“They took our bikes?” His fists tightened. “Bastards.”

She didn’t say anything.

“This is ridiculous. Do you know how long it’s going to take us to get to Leeds on foot?”

“What can we do? What’s done is done. We just need to find some shelter.” She gestured to the sky. “I don’t like the look of those clouds.”

Liam looked over the road’s edge. “I should try to get that kid’s knife.”

“You’ve still got your bag. At least we’ve still got food and your bat.”

“I need something I can take someone out with.”

“Don’t be daft.”

“Daft?” Liam glared at her. “We need to protect ourselves.”

She shook her head. “You think we’re going to protect ourselves with that little thing? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“We need to do something. I’m not having some chavs doing anything like that again to us.” His fists clenched. “If I see those little fuckers again...”

“Just leave it.” She placed a hand on his arm as he rolled his shoulder away. “Please.”

“Where do you get off telling me what to do?”

“Don’t blame me for this.” Jenna raised her hands. “We just need to focus on finding somewhere for the night. Trust me, we’ll—”

“Don’t start bringing trust into this. You of all people—”

Jenna spun on her feet, reeling towards him, glowering. “That was a long time ago—don’t you dare fucking hold that over me.” She folded her arms, turning back to him, flinching when Liam grabbed her shoulder. “What?”

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Things are just getting to me.”

“We need to keep focused, Liam. Who knows what this world is going to look like when all this is done? But we need to stick together. We’re strong together. We can’t fall out like this.”

Liam swallowed and nodded, one hand reaching up to his split lip. “I know. Got to keep focused. I do love you.”

“I know you do and I love you too.”

Liam wrapped his arms around her and gave her a tentative hug.

Releasing the embrace, they followed the road until the next junction, frowning at the sight of roadblocks and police patrols.

After an hour or so, they came across a minibus parked on the hard shoulder.

“What about in here?” Liam asked.

Jenna came to a halt a few metres away from the vehicle. “What if there’s someone in there?”

“I can’t see anyone.”

“I mean, another...” Her voice trailed off. “I’m worried we’re going to catch it.”

Liam nodded. “I’ll take a look. Stand back.” With hesitant steps, he reached for the side door, pulling the handle and sliding it to the left. “It’s unlocked.” He checked behind the seat, glancing back over a shoulder. “It’s clean. We should spend the night.”

“What? In there?” Jenna leaned over his shoulder, her nose wrinkling.

“It’s dry and it will protect us from the elements. I’m sure we can tilt the seats back, or something.” He clambered onto the driver’s seat and checked around the steering column.

“You think we could hot-wire it?”

Liam smirked. “I don’t know. Do you know how to hot-wire a car?”

“No. I thought you might, though. Don’t they teach you things like that in journalism school? Hot-wiring cars? Hacking dead kids’ phones?”

“Whatever. More like learning to write about council meetings and how to not get sued by some Russian oligarch—not that it matters anymore.”

Jenna laughed and climbed onto the passenger seat. “What do you think is going to happen?”

Liam shrugged. “With what?”

“With everything. With the world, I guess.”

“I don’t know. Things were pretty messed-up as it was.”

“They closed the airports. You think this thing is everywhere?”

He pushed out his lower lip, wincing as the cut widened. “I don’t know. All I know is I want to get Tommy back.”

“I mean, what’s it going to be like when we get home? What’s going to be left? Is there even a government?”

Liam drummed his fingers against the door. “There are still police. If there’s roadblocks, someone must be organising that, right?”

“I suppose.” Jenna folded her arms in her lap. “I just don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“Have you ever?”

“Not like this.” She waved a hand. “This is real. Think about how many dead people we’ve seen. There were corpses by the prison, that bloke in his massive house. We’ve only seen a little bit of what’s happening.”

“News stuff looked really bleak as well.”

“I bet Twitter’s having a shit-storm.”

“When doesn’t it?”

“True.” Liam shook his head and laughed. “Wow. That stuff seemed so important.” He straightened himself up in his seat and cleared his throat. “Look, we can’t dwell. It’s not going to help. We just need to deal with things as they come—focus on getting Tommy and getting home.”

“I’m worried about Mum.”

“We can bring her with us.”

“You’d do that? After all the things you said about her?”

Liam shuffled uncomfortably and made a dismissive wave. “Family’s family. Things have been said in the past. But things are different now. We’ve got a look out for the people who are close to us. And anyway, if she gets on my nerves, she can go and sleep in the fucking garage.”

Jenna let out a spluttering laugh and turned to Liam. “We’re going to be alright, aren’t we?”

He squeezed her hand and sighed. “We’ll be fine. I promise.”

26. Michael

With the police roadblock retreating behind him, Michael marched along the street, his rubber all-in-one squeaking in time with his steps.

A woman stared at him with frightened eyes from a window.

He dipped his head and carried on walking. If he was going to help, there was no way he was going to get infected—he didn’t care how he looked.

Turning a corner, he came across the student he’d seen who knocked on his door. The lad started when he saw Michael and coughed as blood spewed from his mouth.

Michael drew his pistol and aimed. “Show me your armpits.”

The lad nodded and lifted his T-shirt, revealing purple buboes.

Taking a deep breath. Michael pulled the trigger.

27. Liam

“It’s the end of the world as we know it...” Liam slumped forward, gritting his teeth as tears filled his eyes.

He stared through the windscreen as the asphalt stretched ahead, a ghostly grey against the moonlight. A shuddering breath erupted from his throat as images of his mother filled his mind—her sagging face as she lay dead in the hospital, the machine’s constant wheezing. Would anyone be there to bury her?

Jenna stirred next to him. She stretched and yawned. “You okay?” She rubbed her eyes.

Liam didn’t respond.

“What time is it?”

“Late, I guess. Early.” He sighed. “Haven’t slept.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s turned to shit. I can’t deal with it. It’s like there’s all this pressure pushing down on my skull and I feel like something’s going to snap.” He glanced down as Jenna placed a hand on his.

“It’s called grief. You’ve not had chance to mourn your mum. Everything’s just been too crazy.”

Liam pulled his hand away and folded his arms. “Everything hurts.”

“Cuts heal. They didn’t break anything.”

“I’m not talking about those chavs. I’m talking about...I don’t know...everything.” He slammed a fist against the door. “We don’t even know if our boy’s alive. And what if he is? What then? What kind of world are we going to raise him in?”

“We’ll work it out.”

“You going to go back to work? You think people are going to need social media branding? Newspapers are hanging by a thread as it is. I’ve been waiting for the axe to fall for years. There’s no way things are going to be the same. Our jobs are done. Who knows if our house is okay?” He drummed his fingers on the armrest, staring out across the city. “Whatever happens, we’re screwed.”

“Look at me,” Jenna snapped.

Liam turned to see her with a raised finger and wild eyes.

“You stop this, right now. Mourn for your mum—you need to do that—but I’m not going to sit here and listen to you pull your ‘woe is me’ act.”

“Act?” Liam’s jaw tightened.

“You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself all you want, but it’s not going to help us. We need to figure out how to get past this and make it work. We need to fight. You can give up if you want, but I want to get our son and survive.” She shook her head, hands trembling. “So, I’ll have to find a new job. I’ve been saying for years I’ve wanted a change. And so have you.”

“I don’t know anything else.”

“Then just fucking give up now then.”

They sat in silence for almost a minute before Jenna let out a long sigh. “I get this is crazy, but we’re not the only ones going through this. All I’m focused on is getting Tommy. If, God forbid, anything has happened...” Her voice cracked.

“You’re always right, aren’t you?”

“It’s not about being right, Liam. I’m not going to fight about this. We’ll get to our son, and see where we are once we know what we’re dealing with. We just need to do whatever it takes to get our boy back. Our jobs might be non-existent, but you think the courts are going to go after us about missing the mortgage? We don’t even know how this thing’s going to settle. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep our family together.”

Liam licked his lips and stared from the windows. The first hints of sunrise crept across the eastern sky. He nodded to himself and took in a long breath. “Whatever it takes.”

28. Tina

The bike leading the procession skidded to a halt as thirty or so bikers turned off their engines and grabbed people, tearing off their clothes and pulling weapons on them.

“What are they doing?” Jack asked.

“I think they might be the Doctors.”

“They don’t look like doctors to me.”

Civilians scattered as the men in masks and leather trench coats swarmed around them, ordering people to their knees and stripping them.

They shooed several civilians away, men and women running with clothes bundled under their arms, too terrified to dress.

One of them shot a woman in the head and tossed her body onto a pyre.

Tina turned away. “Jesus.”

The bikers strode towards the police line, their faces obscured by gas masks, bird masks, clown masks, surgical masks and goggles. Many wore bike helmets and brandished bats, machetes, and pistols.

A tall man wearing a gas mask approached the barrier. “We need to check you are clean.”

“Back away,” one officer barked through a megaphone.

Several officers raised their rifles.

The man in the gas mask raised his hands. “We are trying to help.”

“Leave it to the professionals. Go back to your homes.”

Tina was trembling when the bikers returned to their bikes, their roaring engines echoing behind them. “What the fuck?”

The officer with the megaphone raised his hand and called for attention. “Everyone. Return to your posts.”

29. Liam

Liam chewed idly on a Double Decker, its chocolate and nougat filling his mouth. “I figured we’d keep heading towards the M62 and just keep going until we hit Leeds.”

Jenna picked a crisp from the packet of Quavers resting on the seat between them, its sides torn to form a makeshift plate. “My head’s thumping this morning. Should have picked up some paracetamol.”

“My ribs are killing me.” He lifted his shirt past his belly and winced at the purple and yellow bruises peppering his chest.

“We’ll be—” She stopped, her eyes narrowing as she checked the wing mirror. “It’s them.”

“Who?”

“Those scallies.” She pointed to the mirror, shifting lower on the seat. “Little shits have still got our bikes.”

“Right.” Liam turned and reached over his seat, dragging the cricket bat from his rucksack.

“What should we do?”

“Duck.” Sinking low, he watched as the two lads freewheeled past, slower than walking speed. The taller lad jerked the bike’s front, tilting into a wheelie. “Bastards.” He ground his teeth.

Red mist filled his vision. “Wait here.”

With gentle movement, he pulled the handle, opening the door, letting it creep open silently.

“Where are you going?”

“Wait here,” he repeated. Jogging forward, he reached the smaller lad, swinging his bat full force against the kid’s neck, marching past to strike the taller one across the face before he had a chance to react, his nose cracking in a bloody explosion.

Growling, he lunged forward, driving the bat into the taller lad’s stomach, beating down on his head, again and again until the face was no more than pulp, unrecognisable as human.

He turned to the smaller one, now lying on the ground, whimpering. Liam took in a sharp, pained breath and drove the bat down with all his strength, cracking the lad’s neck.

He dropped the bat at his side, his breaths deepening, the red mist fading. His eyes darted between the bloody mess across the taller one’s face and the unnatural angle of the other’s neck.

He turned and vomited, spitting chocolate and bile onto the concrete. With trembling hands, he turned to see Jenna, her eyes growing wide.

“We should go. I’ve got your bag.”

Liam managed a nod and swallowed. “I didn’t mean—”

“You did what you had to do.” She grabbed her bike’s handlebars. “We should go.”

Liam untangled the taller lad’s body from his bike, shoving him down on the ground. “You brought this on yourself.”

“Liam, come on.”

He glanced at Jenna, then back to the lads. “I don’t know what happened.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She gestured to the road ahead. “Let’s go.”

30. Michael

Returning to his house, Michael stood at his gate and watched the police roadblock for almost a minute. He should tell the other officers how he’d helped.

With a sigh, he shook his head—they would only see him as a criminal.

He turned at the sound of a rumbling truck.

It skidded to a halt next to him and a pair of figures brandishing rifles filed out wearing black leather trench coats. One wore a gas mask similar to his own. The other wore a surgical mask and aviator goggles.

“Get your hands up.” The man’s voice came gruffly through his mask.

“What the fuck’s going on?” Michael glanced between them but remained stock-still. There was no time to reach for his pistol and take them both out. One of them, perhaps, but not two.

“Show us your armpits,” the woman with the goggles said.

“I’m clean.” He rolled his suit past his shoulder, struggling to get his arm free through the sweat and rubber. “You trying to stop the spread?”

The woman nodded.

Michael pointed down the street. “I took out an infected one down there. His body’s in a garden. I was going to go back and burn it.”

The man and woman exchanged glances.

“Show us where it is,” the man said

“I will.” Michael struggled his arms back into his suit and pulled the zipper up to his neck. “But you need to take those rifles off me.”

They lowered their rifles and Michael led them to the student’s body.

“You with the Doctors?” the man asked

Michael frowned. “Police. At least, I was. Let’s just say we had philosophical differences.”

“We could do with more people like you coming on board.”

“On board with what?”

“To help the Doctors. We’re trying to stop the spread.”

“Right.” He glanced down at the body and back up at the man.

“I’m Brandon. This is Dawn.”

“Brandon, Dawn. A pleasure. I’m Michael.”

31. Liam

Liam stared ahead, his eyes focused on the swooping road.

Jenna cycled at his side. “You okay?” She angled her head and waved a hand.

Liam took in a long breath through his nose and gestured to the blue countdown sign ahead. “You need to stop?”

“You’re not listening to me at all, are you?”

“I’m listening. I just don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I think we need to talk about what happened back there.”

“No, we don’t.” He gritted his teeth and dipped his head, pushing faster on the pedals.

What could he say when he wasn’t quite sure what had happened? One moment he was in the minibus, the next, he was standing over a pair of bloodied lads. He’d live with what he had done, he had no other choice, but somehow it wasn’t him. What would she think if he told her that he wasn’t in control of his actions, that he had gone after those lads through a red haze?

Turning off the motorway, Liam rode across the empty car park. He brought his bike to a stop before glass doors, glancing back over his shoulder while Jenna caught up. “Some phone boxes in there. You should try to give your mum a ring, see how Tommy is.”

“Looks pretty shut.”

“It’s a services.” He leaned on the door and shouldered his way inside, pushing the bike by the handlebars, its ticking echoing across the tiled floor. “See.” He squinted up at the dead striplights. Reaching up to a television set, he pressed the button and waited.

Nothing.

He followed the wire to the mains, flicking the switch on and off. He turned to see Jenna scowling at a payphone, the handset held at an odd angle.

“Phones are off.”

“Power’s off too.”

Jenna placed the phone back. “What are we going to do?”

“Have some lunch.” Liam reached into his backpack and pulled out a tin of beans. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“I hate this. It’s too weird.”

“What is?”

Jenna let out a laugh. “You serious? Everything—the quiet, the plague, the bodies, the fact I watched my husband stove in the heads of two scallies with a cricket bat.”

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. “Things got a bit crazy back there. I just saw red. They’d hit you and took our bikes. People can’t go around doing things like that. It’s not right.”

“I don’t need you to act like some fucking white knight caveman, Liam.”

“I don’t think they had knights in the Stone Age.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m sure you are. But it was us or them.”

The corners of Jenna’s lips twitched. “No, it wasn’t.” Her voice dropped low. “You could have let them carry on.”

Liam opened the beans. “What if we’d seen them again? That little one had a knife. He threatened to cut us.”

“But he didn’t.”

“Look around you, Jenna. There’s no room for your social-justice-snowflake-let’s-feel-sorry-for-the-criminals bullshit.”

She shook her head.

“The way I see it, we’ve got a look out for each other. We need to do whatever it takes to survive.” He pointed outside. “If that plague really is what we think, then it’s going to be hard enough. I make no apologies for what I did. But if you think it’s something I wanted to do, then you are dead wrong.”

“But if we lose who we are—”

“We can worry about that later. I acted. Now, let’s eat.” Liam sat cross-legged on the floor, the tiles cold against his buttocks. He scooped out the beans with his fingers, dropping them into his mouth.

Jenna grimaced when Liam passed her the beans. “I can’t eat these. They’re disgusting.”

“They’re perfectly edible. They’re just cold.”

She slid the tin back towards him. “You finish them.”

“What was I just saying?” He shook his head and pushed the tin back towards her.

Jenna shrugged. “You were trying to justify killing.”

“I was saying we need to do everything we can to survive. We don’t know what’s going to happen on the road to Leeds. We don’t know what a mess it’s going to be in. We need to treat every meal like it could be our last. We need to make sure we eat when we can. We can’t just live on empty carbs and chocolate.”

Letting out a sigh, Jenna dragged the tin back towards her, and poured the beans into her mouth. She chewed for a while and swallowed, cringing before wiping her lips with a sleeve. “Happy?”

“Don’t make it a thing. I’m serious. What if this is a long-term thing? We need to prioritise survival, prioritise each other, and to hell with everyone else.”

Jenna gazed down at her hands and shook her head. “How can you be so cold?”

“I’m not being cold. I want to get Tommy and go home. That’s it.”

“You think we can get to Leeds by night?”

“Maybe.” Liam rubbed his chin. “Probably not. We might find somewhere on the way. Preferably, somewhere with a bed.”

“I don’t think I could cope with another night in a minibus.”

“We’ll figure something.” He nodded towards the tin. “You finished?”

Jenna nodded.

Liam got to his feet. “Let’s go then.”

32. Tina

Tina and Jack walked in silence as they made their way along the A34. The oatcake shop was closed. A novelty pub stood on the left, a cartoon horse leering from its sign, its car park empty.

“I could go for a steak about now.” Jack nodded towards the pub and grinned, sending flutters through Tina’s chest.

She remembered why she had been with him.

Jack stopped ahead of her and jumped back. “Fuck!”

“What is it?”

Covering his nose with an arm, he pointed to a twisted corpse.

“Jesus.” Tina pulled Jack back. “Remember, don’t touch.” She stood over the body, pulled on her gas mask, and gave it a visual examination.

A bullet hole gaped from the man’s head. Swelling circled his neck.

“Maybe it was one of those bikers?”

“He looks infected.”

“Jeez.” Tina took a few steps back. “We should call it in.”

“Yeah.” Jack paced back and forth and spoke into his walkie-talkie.

“What’s the verdict?” Tina asked.

“We’ve just been told to leave it.”

Tina frowned. “What do you mean, leave it?”

“There’s not enough resources, apparently.” He shrugged a shoulder.

Tina stared down. “Shit. Should we secure the scene or something?”

“We’ve been told to maintain the roadblock.”

“We can’t just leave it like this. This is a murder.”

Jack pulled her around. “This is above our pay grade.” He held her gaze. “Let’s just get back to the roadblock and do what we’ve been asked.”

Tina glanced back at the body and sighed. “I don’t like this.”

33. Liam

The sun hung low and scab-like to the west as Liam brought his bike to a stop. “I forgot about this place. We should take a look.” He gestured towards the farmhouse nestled amid an almond-shaped field, bracketed by a split in the M62’s carriageway.

“Looks pretty dark. Think there’s anyone in?”

Liam lifted his bike onto one shoulder and dropped off the highway’s edge, trudging across sodden ground towards the farmhouse. He rapped on the door and waited. “I think I can hear something,” he whispered, turning to Jenna. He knocked again. “Hello?”

Muffled clattering came from inside.

He stepped back, his jaw tightening.

The door inched open and a single blue eye gazed warily through the crack, a security chain stretching taut between the frame and the man’s curled fingers. “You alright?”

“Sorry to disturb you, we’ve been on the road. I was wondering if we could fill our water.”

“You alright?” The man’s eye narrowed.

Liam and Jenna exchanged a confused look. “We travelled from the Midlands. We’re trying to get to Leeds. We need to get our son.”

“What’s with the marks? You alright?”

Liam nodded. “We got mugged in Manchester, some chavs jumped us.”

“Aye, sounds about right. You alright though?”

“Fine now.” Liam rubbed the back of his neck. “A bit sore.”

“How’s about that plague. You alright?”

“As in, are we sick?” Jenna asked.

“Aye.” The man nodded. “You alright?”

“We’re both fine.”

“Show me your armpits,” the man said.

“What?”

“I’m going to need to see your armpits. Can’t be too careful.”

Liam glanced down to see a shotgun barrel poking through the crack. He jerked his hands up. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”

“Aye. Neither do I. Show me your armpits, and if you’re clean, I’ll make us all a nice cup of tea. How does that sound?”

Jenna nodded, shuffling from her jacket and lifting her top first, showing the man her armpits.

“Now you.” He pointed the shotgun at Liam.

Sighing, Liam took off his bag and jacket, dropping them to the ground. He lifted his sweater up at the sides, raising his arms above his head. “Happy?”

“Aye.” The man stepped back and unfastened the security chain, opening the door. “Sorry I made you do that.” He stood a head taller than Liam, a tweed cap perched on his head. Broad and wrinkled, he offered them both a gap-toothed smile. “Come in.” He gestured over a shoulder. “I’ll put a pot on. You hungry?”

“Famished.” Liam picked up his rucksack.

“We really don’t want to impose,” Jenna said.

“Just leave your bikes out there. We’ve not had any cars come by for the past few days. They’ll be okay.”

Liam leaned his bike against the outside wall and followed Jenna inside. Oak beams stretched across the whitewashed ceiling. They passed a staircase on the right and a closed door to the left, following the wafts of coal smoke and roasted chicken.

They ducked through a door and into the kitchen. Pots and pans hung on the walls as an open fire burned in a hearth along the opposite wall. A round dining table with four chairs dominated the room and the man gestured for them to sit.

“I’m Frank.” He turned from the kettle and extended a hand to Liam.

“I’m Liam. This is Jenna. Nice to meet you, mate.”

“Power went yesterday. I’ve yet to get the generator on. Wasn’t expecting visitors.” He poured the water into a teapot and dropped in a pair of tea bags. “I’ve got a chicken on. I’ll have to get a few more potatoes peeled.”

“Do you need a hand with anything?” Jenna asked.

“You settle down. I’ll get these teas poured in a minute.”

Liam leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “How much do you know about what’s going on?”

Frank took three mugs down from a sideboard and placed them on the table. “Only what’s been on the news. Not too much.”

Liam sniffed. “We’ve been on the road the last couple of days. Before that, we were with my mum in hospital.”

Reaching into a cupboard, Frank brought down a biscuit barrel and placed it on the table. “Help yourself. Some custard creams should keep you going until supper.”

“That’s great, thank you.” Jenna removed the lid. “Ooh, there’s some Hobnobs too.”

Frank poured the teas into the mugs and added a splash of milk. “You don’t have sugar, do you? I don’t have sugar.”

Taking the cup, Liam held it in his hands. Heat radiated against his sore palms. He sniffed at the steam, taking in the aroma. “Not had a warm drink since hospital.”

Frank took a seat opposite Jenna and leaned back in his chair. “What’s wrong with your mum?”

Liam licked his lips, his hands sliding from the cup. “She...she died.”

“Was it plague?”

“Chest infection.” Liam swallowed. “You know how these things go now.”

“Aye.” Frank nodded towards a photo of a plump woman in a bright-pink flowing dress. “Lost Mary a few years back. Just me now.” He sipped his tea.

“What have you seen on the news?” Jenna dunked a custard cream into her tea. “All we’ve seen really is the roadblocks.”

“And a few bodies,” Liam muttered, dropping his gaze when Jenna glared at him.

“They say it’s the Black Death. A lot of end days talk.”

“Right. Any idea what the Government are doing about it?” Liam asked.

“Aye. They shipped the MPs off somewhere and the royal family, you know?”

“Is it just Britain?”

Frank shook his head. “Started in China or India. No one is really sure. It’s all over America, Africa. I think Australia might be alright.”

“Shit.” Liam sipped his tea. “That’s insane. Take it the cities are screwed?”

“Police are trying. Did they not have any roadblocks the way you came? Country’s supposed to be in tight lockdown.”

Liam grinned. “Yeah. We had to avoid a couple to get on the motorway. Once we were on the M6 though, it was pretty clear all the way.”

“They won’t have liked that. A lot of warnings. Did they have guns?”

“The ones we saw did,” Jenna said. “You see anything about Morecambe?”

Frank shrugged. “Sorry.”

“They say if there was anywhere that was safe?”

“Aye. Last I saw, they were letting the uninfected into Anglesey. I think it was the Army or Air Force or something like that.”

“As in, North Wales?”

“That’s the one. How old’s your boy?”

“Four,” Jenna said, smiling. “Had him staying with my mum in Leeds, what with all this stuff with Liam’s mum.”

“Aye. They’re a bit too young to understand at that age.” He glanced over to the Aga. “I’d better get on with those potatoes. I’ve got a spare room upstairs. You’re welcome to stay the night if you want to.”

Liam and Jenna shared a glance and Jenna nodded.

“That’d be great, mate,” Liam said.

“You’re really too kind.”

Frank made a dismissive wave. “Say no more of it. You can have a good meal and a nice warm bed, and hopefully everything will be okay with your boy.”

“Yeah.” Liam took in a breath. “Let’s hope so.”

34. Michael

Michael rested a forearm on the open passenger window as the truck raced through Newcastle-under-Lyme’s streets.

“There are roadblocks everywhere,” Dawn said.

“Yeah, but the police aren’t helping,” Brandon said. He took a right down a street lined with terraces.

“Don’t get me started on the police.” Michael drummed on the dashboard. “So, who are you people?”

“We’re with the Doctors.”

“That’s suitably vague.” He stared at Dawn for several seconds, but she did not elaborate. “Are you real doctors? You know if you’ve got a PhD in lesbian dance studies, that’s not a real doctorate, right?”

“Some of us are doctors.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Survival,” Brandon said. “If we don’t get this thing under control, we’re going to die.”

Michael stared from the window. “Shit.”

“Shit, indeed. We’ve got people trying to secure some places that we can keep clean. We might have to rebuild.”

“The towns and cities are going to be no-go areas for a while,” Dawn said. “We’re looking at heading out as soon as we get enough supplies together.”

“Where are you going?”

Dawn shrugged. “Not sure yet. Isle of Man, maybe. Oil rig. Wherever we can.”

“Good luck getting a ferry.”

“I guess.” She sighed.

“Here.” Brandon pointed to a couple walking to their right. The woman pushed a pram as the man walked with a Jack Russell terrier on a leash. “You ready to do what we need to?”

Michael nodded. “Let’s go.” He opened the door and dropped from the truck, drawing his revolver while Brandon and Dawn surrounded the couple.

“Don’t move. Are you sick?”

The man raised his hands.

The dog bolted off.

Dawn signalled for the man to lift up his shirt. She inspected his armpits. “He’s clean.” She examined the woman and child. “Clean. Go back to your homes. Stay indoors. It’s not safe out here.”

The couple stared at them, shocked.

Michael climbed back into the truck.

Brandon started the engine and turned to Michael. “Good work.”

“Thanks. I’m just happy to help.”

35. Liam

Liam blinked at the darkness as faint scuttling sounds came from above the ceiling.

Jenna’s head rested on the pillow next to him, her breathing light.

Shoving the duvet aside, he swung his legs from the bed and reached for his jeans and sweater.

Pulling them on, he blinked into the darkness, trying to work out his next step.

The image of his son covered in buboes sent a tingling rush along his arms and spine and squeezed his chest. He had to be alive. What the hell would he have to live for if Tommy was dead?

They would get through this together, no matter what it took.

Floorboards groaned beneath him when he got to his feet.

He eased his rucksack onto his shoulders and tested the door handle, turning it slowly, trying his best not to make a sound.

Heartbeats hammered in his skull as the door creaked open.

With cold sweat spreading across his body, Liam made his way to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He sat down on the toilet seat, flinching as the cold pressed against his legs and buttocks, all the while listening out for movement.

He got up and washed his hands. Creeping from the bathroom, he closed the door carefully, pushing his palm against the wood, dulling the inevitable click.

Following the stairs down, he groped the banister in the dark.

He entered the kitchen.

Pain struck his hip as he banged into the back of a chair. He clenched his fists to stop himself from crying out.

Sliding his rucksack onto the kitchen table, he turned to the cupboards, groping around the tins. He grabbed four and dropped them into the bag, arranging them next to the cricket bat.

He went back and grabbed four more.

He stopped and listened.

Assured of silence, he went over to the entrance hall. A key hung from the front door’s lock. Frank’s shotgun leaned against the corner. A box of shells lay on the shelf above. His breath caught for a moment. “What am I doing?” He shook his head.

He returned to the kitchen, grabbed his backpack, and went up to the bedroom. He closed the door behind him and Jenna stirred, rolling over. “Liam? That you?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We should leave.”

Jenna bolted upright. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing. I figure if we set off now—”

She reached over to him, patting the rucksack. “What’s in there?”

“I...I picked up some tins.”

“From Frank’s cupboards?”

“I figured we’d need them for the road.”

“After he’s fed us and given us a meal?” She shoved his arm.

Liam glanced towards the door. “Keep your voice down.”

Jenna moved over to the window and pulled back the curtains, dipping her head as she looked outside. “What time is it?”

“Early, I guess. I reckon it’s about four.”

“And you’re just going to rob the guy?”

Liam smirked. It’s only robbery when there’s violence or a threat of violence.”

“Don’t start with your court reporting crap.”

“You can get sued for saying a burglar robbed someone. Criminals can get very picky about labels—”

Letting out a long breath, Jenna folded her arms and shook her head. “So, you’re a burglar now?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Add it to the fucking list. Let’s go.”

Jenna licked her lips and nodded, something twitching at the corner of her mouth.

“Now.”

Without hesitating, Jenna pulled on her leggings and jacket, eyes never leaving her husband.

Liam pulled on his jacket, shoes, and rucksack. “You ready?”

Jenna nodded, but didn’t say a word.

Liam placed a finger to his lips and opened the door, leading the way downstairs, and marched towards the door, turning the key and letting in the night. He took the box of shotgun cartridges from the shelf and dropped them into his backpack.

“What are you doing?” Jenna grabbed his wrist.

“Taking that.” He reached for the shotgun.

“I can’t let you do that.” Frank eyed him from the bottom of the stairs, wielding a rifle.

“We were just leaving.” Liam raised his hands.

“Shut the door. You’ve been stealing. Aye, you think I didn’t hear you clattering around in the kitchen?”

“It was...it was just a couple of tins.” Liam edged along the wall, moving into the house.

“Don’t.” Frank moved down a few more steps. “I welcomed you into my home. I cooked you a meal. I let you sleep under my roof. This is how you repay me?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll put the stuff back.” Liam took the backpack from his shoulders and groped inside for a tin. “Here. I’ll take it back and then we’ll leave.”

“You townies are all the bloody same. You think you can come in here and take what you want without consequences, without retribution?” Frank clicked something on the rifle, and aimed the barrel towards Liam’s head.

Liam staggered at the deafening blast.

The top half of Frank’s head sprayed along across the walls, the rest of him rolling forward, crashing to the ground.

Liam turned to Jenna, her face dripping with blood and sweat, the shotgun trembling in her hands. His eyes darted between his wife and Frank’s body. “What the fuck, Jenna?”

“We need to go.” Jenna swallowed and gestured to the rifle. “We should take that.”

Liam ran a hand back over his hair and nodded. “Shit.”

36. Tina

Tina squinted up at the setting sun as Jack cracked another joke.

She tried to resist laughing.

He smiled at her, showing his perfect teeth. “Remember when we went to Whitby?”

“Don’t.” She let out a sigh.

“I think about that a lot.” He held her gaze. “Must be hard for you having to deal with Michael.”

“I said, don’t.”

“I just think you deserve better.” He raised his chin. “There, I said it.”

“He’s a good man.”

Jack let out an incredulous laugh.

“Stop it.”

Jack shrugged and stared ahead for almost a minute, not speaking before letting out a long sigh and shaking his head.

“What is it?”

“Something like this.” He made a sweeping gesture, as if encompassing the world. “Just puts everything into perspective, you know?”

“You getting all Plato on me now? I haven’t really had time to think.”

“Life’s too short to be fucking around, you know?” He rubbed the back of his neck and gave her one of those smiles. “I was thinking, when all this blows over, maybe we should try again.”

Tina flushed and shook her head. She didn’t want to deal with this now. “Michael and I, we’ve had our problems...but we love each other. What we had was just a fling. Sorry.”

“Right.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Tina gestured to an approaching truck. “We should put our masks back on.”

Jack nodded. “Back to work it is then.”

37. Liam

Elland Road football stadium passed on their right as Liam approached the motorway junction. He brought his bike to a stop and stared across Leeds, plumes of smoke billowing from various fires in the distance. “We made it.”

Jenna offered him a weak smile. “We’ll be okay. At least Mum’s house is this end of the city.”

“I don’t like the look of that smoke.”

“What do you think is going on?”

Liam shrugged. “I know about as much as you do.”

“Alright,” she snapped. “I was just asking.”

“Hopefully, your mum will have something nice in for lunch.”

“Please don’t say anything to her about what happened back there.”

Liam shook his head. “Why would I do that?” He pushed down on his pedals and rode forward. “Looks clean ahead.”

“What do you mean?”

“No roadblocks. No police.”

“That’s good. Sorry about what happened in Manchester. I didn’t get it. I do now.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Liam said, glancing back over one shoulder. “We both did what we had to do.”

“We’ll have to live with it though.”

“But we’ll be living—that’s what we need to hold on to.”

The shattered remains of barricades lay strewn at the roadside. A police car rested on its roof, its interior burned out.

“This doesn’t look good.”

“You think there were riots?”

“Maybe.” Liam brought his bike to a stop and stared into the distance. “Might explain the smoke.” He turned to the roar of a diesel engine.

A truck hurtled towards them.

He scrambled from his bike, dropping it at his feet as he dragged Jenna to the kerb.

The truck came to a screeching halt a few metres away from the bikes. “What the hell?”

A pair of figures emerged from the truck, their bodies draped in layers of thick leather, their faces obscured with grotesque birdlike masks.

Jenna glanced over to the rifle strapped to her bike’s crossbar.

Liam fumbled around in his backpack, trying to drag free his shotgun.

The figures approached them, the first armed with a tyre iron, the second brandishing a pistol. “Are you infected?” a woman asked, her voice muffled, her breath wheezing through the mask.

Liam raised his hands and shook his head. “Infected?”

“Do you have the plague?” the second voice asked, this one deeper, but still female.

“We’re not infected,” Jenna said. “What do you want?”

“We are with the Doctors,” the deeper voice said. “Remove your clothes.”

Liam shook his head. “What?”

“Your clothes.”

Liam and Jenna exchanged confused glances. Jenna gave an almost imperceptible nod and dropped her coat to the ground. Swallowing, Liam did the same, removing his backpack, coat and sweater, unfastening his jeans and piling them on the road.

The figures circled them, turning them and prodding at their flesh, muttering to each other in low whispers as their fingers hovered around Liam’s bruises. “Raise your arms above your head.”

He glanced at Jenna when one of them poked his armpits and gestured for him to remove his boxer shorts. “I’m not taking them off.” He folded his arms across his chest, shivering as the wind chilled sweat along his back. “This is ridiculous.”

“Do not be a prude. It is important that you are not infected.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Liam grunted, pulling down his shorts, exposing his genitals and buttocks. The figures kneeled at his feet, checking between his legs before getting up and nodding to each other.

“You’re clean. You’re free to go.”

Liam dragged up his shorts and watched open-mouthed as the figures returned to the truck, started the engine, and reversed, gears crunching as they drove away. “What the hell was that?” He turned to Jenna, now sitting on the asphalt, elbows resting on her knees, head buried in her hands. Her back shook with sobs.

He walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “They’re gone.”

“What’s going on?” She looked up at him with teary eyes. “Everything is turning to shit.”

“Come on.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “We need to get dressed and we need to get Tommy.”

Jenna let out a breath and nodded. “Okay.”

Liam dressed himself and picked up his bike. “At least you didn’t have to show them your arse.”

Jenna let out a snorting laugh and mounted her saddle. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

They rode along the dual carriageway, past industrial units and car showrooms, and beneath a railway bridge. The road stood quiet and clear. The forecourt of a BP garage lay piled with bodies.

After a mile or so, they reached a roundabout, industrial buildings making way for flats, houses, and a row of shops.

They made a right at a crossroads and then left onto an estate of back-to-back terraces, the houses clustered in huddled groups of eight. A brown and white dog watched them go by. Bags of refuse lay piled against the ends of terraces.

Turning left, Liam stopped before the third door, white with frosted glass.

Jenna leaned past him and knocked.

Liam held her hand, weaving his fingers around hers.

The door opened a crack. “Hello?”

“Mum!” Jenna called. “It’s me.”

The door opened and a black woman in her sixties greeted them with a smile. “Jenna. Liam.” She stared past them. “Where have you parked?” She always reminded Liam of an older, slightly fatter version of Jenna, with short grey curls and oversized earrings.

“Sandra. So good to see you.” Liam glanced down at his handlebars and patted them. “We had to ride here on these.”

“From Wolverhampton?”

Jenna nodded. “Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s just playing upstairs.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Tommy! Come down, dear.”

“Thank God,” Jenna said. “We weren’t sure.”

Sandra offered them a grim smile. “He’s okay. And how’s your mother, Liam?”

Liam shook his head and shrugged one shoulder. “She...she passed away.”

“I’m so sorry.”

A small boy with floppy black curls and podgy cheeks burst into the sitting room and wrapped his arms around Jenna’s legs. “Mummy!”

Liam crouched on one knee and cuddled him, his gaze drifting to a photograph of Jenna in her teens wearing a sea cadet uniform. “I missed you, little buddy.”

“I missed you, Daddy,” Tommy said. “You want to come and have a look at my dinosaur? I made a stegosaurus with my Lego.”

Smiling, Liam rose to his feet and tussled Tommy’s hair. “Sounds good to me.”

“Can we stay here, tonight?” Jenna asked.

“Best not, dear.”

Jenna blinked and shook her head. “What?”

“I’m coming with you.”

38. Michael

Michael frowned at the shadowed figures manning the roadblock near the hospital.

“Get ready,” Brandon drummed on the steering wheel.

“They’re police,” Michael said.

“I don’t care if they’re police. We need to check them.”

Brandon slammed on the brakes and came to a halt before the roadblock.

Michael jumped from the truck with Dawn as Brandon climbed from the cabin and ordered the masked police officers to their knees.

Brandon forced the pair to place their hands on their heads, and paced before them. “We are with the Doctors.”

“You are interfering with police work,” a male voice said, muffled behind his mask.

“And you are impeding our work.”

Michael stood with his pistol drawn. He vaguely recognised the man’s voice.

“I need you both to lift up your shirts,” Dawn said. “Slowly. I need to check your armpits.”

The officers exchanged a look and slipped from their jackets before raising their shirts.

Michael turned away from the woman when his gaze lingered on her bra.

As Dawn prodded around their armpits, she gave the signal. “They’re clean.”

Brandon aimed his rifle at the male officer.

“What you doing?” Dawn asked, pulling at his sleeve. “They’re clean.”

“They might not be sick, but they’re working against us.”

“They’re police,” Dawn said.

“And they’re making the spread worse.”

“We should take their masks,” Dawn said. “They’ll be good quality.”

“Good idea.” Brandon reached down and grabbed the woman’s mask.

Michael held his eyes closed at the sight of Tina.

He did not want Brandon to guess that he knew her—and the last thing he wanted was for her to see him like this. This wasn’t something he could easily explain.

Brandon tore off the male officer’s mask.

Michael’s lip curled. Jack—the fucking prick.

Brandon pressed his rifle against Jack’s back and pulled the trigger.

Jack slumped forward, dead.

“You can do the other one.” Brandon turned and climbed into his truck.

“Me?” Michael stiffened.

“Make it quick.”

Tina kneeled, sobbing.

As Dawn returned to the truck, he waited for several seconds before moving. He stepped behind his wife and pressed his pistol against her back. “I’m sorry.”

Tina turned to him. “Michael?”

He pulled the trigger.

39. Liam

Liam pedalled slowly along the dual carriageway, struggling to balance Tommy on the bike’s crossbar.

“What’s that in your bag, Daddy?”

“It’s called a shotgun.”

“What’s it for, Daddy?”

“To stop bad people.”

“Why are there bad people, Daddy?”

“I don’t know, buddy. There just is.”

“Are you and Mummy bad people, Daddy?”

“No. We’re good people. We look after each other. We care for each other.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going home.”

“In Morecambe?”

“That’s the one.”

“Why is that man asleep?”

Liam followed where Tommy was pointing and shook his head. “Will you look out for any green signs?”

“Green ones? Not blue ones?”

“Green ones. Think you can do that?”

“I like looking for signs, Daddy.”

“That’s great, buddy.”

“Wait!” Tommy turned to him, wide-eyed. “You never looked at my Stegosaurus.”

“You’ll have to make one when we get home.”

“Can we go back?”

“We’re not going back. We need to go home.”

Tommy stared at Liam for several seconds. “That’s okay, Daddy. I like home the best.”

“Me too, buddy. Me too.”

40. Michael

Michael stared from the truck’s window as streetlights blurred past.

Sweat soaked his back, neck, and hair. His stomach made somersaults with each breath. All he wanted to do was get home and get clean, to scrub away the sweat and the guilt, to put all this behind him.

What had he done?

“You okay?” Dawn asked.

“Yeah.” He turned to her and swallowed. “I’ll be fine.”

“It was for the best,” Brandon said, his gaze fixed on the road. “You did what you had to.”

“That’s true,” Dawn said.

“I know.” Michael’s fists turned into a ball. “As you say, we need to stop this thing spreading.”

Tina had to live.

But even if she did, she’d recognised his voice.

Why did he have to speak?

Why did he pull the trigger?

He couldn’t think like this. No, what was done was done. What other options did he have?

It was about survival. She would understand...hopefully.

Horns blared around them as a black Range Rover shot past. A man wearing a garish clown mask leaned from a lorry’s cabin, gesturing for them to pull over.

“What’s going on?” Michael sat taut as the Range Rover skidded to a halt ahead, blocking the road.

“It’s more Doctors,” Dawn said. “They’re on our side.”

Brandon brought the truck to a stop. “I’ll speak to them.”

“What should we do?” Dawn asked.

“Follow me.”

Michael got out and followed Brandon and Dawn, his hand drifting towards his pistol.

“You with the Doctors?” Brandon asked when a leather-clad figure emerged from the Range Rover.

“Yeah. I take it you’re all clean?”

Brandon nodded. “We’re clean. Just been doing a sweep around Newcastle. Got a new recruit too.” He gestured vaguely towards Michael. “Guy had the same idea.”

“That’s good. You know about Anglesey?”

“Indeed. That’s where we’re headed.”

“Anglesey?” Michael asked. “Isn’t that in Wales?”

Brandon nodded.

Dawn turned to Michael. “You are with us, aren’t you?”

“Sounds good to me.” He hesitated.

“What’s up?”

“I’ll need to grab a few things from home, get some supplies. Which way you going?”

The man with the clown mask shrugged and turned to Brandon. “You know where we’re meeting the others?”

Brandon nodded. “I guess we’ll see you there.”

Michael frowned. “Who else is going?”

“The others,” Dawn said, as the Range Rover pulled away.

41. Liam

Asphalt stretched out ahead, empty of cars and people, grey concrete matching the sky’s washed-out tones. Liam glanced over his shoulder and offered Jenna and Sandra a smile. His grip tightened around the handlebars.

“Are we nearly there, Daddy?” Tommy’s legs dangled from the crossbar. “We’ve got a long way to go, buddy.”

“But my bottom hurts.”

“I know it’s not comfortable, but it’s the only way.”

Tommy leaned back and reached a hand out towards Jenna. “I want to go on Mummy’s bike.”

Sighing, Liam shifted his weight. “Her crossbar goes down at an angle. You’ll slide down to the ground.”

“But I want to go now.”

“Buddy, please. Look at the trees. Can you see any birds?” He pointed to the lines of spindly pines standing along the muddy embankment, their trunks held in place by stakes and thick black rubber bands.

Jenna rode up along Liam’s side. “You two okay?”

“I want to go on your bike, Mummy.”

She shook her head. “I’d love you to, but there’s nowhere for you to sit, little man.”

“My bottom hurts. I want to sit on Grandma’s bike.”

Liam glanced over his shoulder towards Sandra lagging thirty or so metres behind. “Grandma’s bike would be worse than Mummy’s.”

“We should take a break,” Jenna said.

“We’ve been on the road for twenty minutes. If we keep having breaks, we’re never going to get there. Let’s just keep focused. We’ll have some lunch when we get out of Leeds.” He glanced back over his shoulder again. “Your mum needs to hurry up.”

“She’s a sixty-five-year-old woman. I bet she hasn’t ridden that bike for at least a decade.”

“Right.”

A loud clattering came from behind them.

“What now?” Liam muttered, bringing his bike to a stop.

“Mum!” Jenna hopped off her bike and ran over to her mother, crouching over her and helping her to her feet.

Shaking his head, Liam placed Tommy on his hip and ambled over. “Sandra, what happened?”

“It’s nothing.” She stared at her bike in disbelief. “Just had a tumble.”

“Can you stand?” Jenna asked.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to fuss.” Sandra got to her feet, favouring her left hip. “My tyres just need inflating.” She raised a finger. “Luckily, there’s a pump under my saddle.” She smiled expectantly at Liam.

“Would you like me to have a look?”

“Would you? If it’s no trouble.” She stood away from the bike as Liam handed Tommy to Jenna.

Nodding to himself, he prodded the tyres, and slid the pump from its bracket. He extended the handle and shook his head. “This thing’s rusty as hell.” With delicate movements, he twisted the cap off the front tyre and screwed on the pump. He pumped for half-a-minute then stopped. “This pump’s crap.”

“It shouldn’t be.” Sandra leaned over him. “I’ve hardly used it.”

“I think that’s probably why. And you’ve kept it in your cellar.”

“Do you still have the one from your mum’s?”

Liam nodded and shifted the rucksack from his shoulder, retrieving the pump. “Good thinking.”

He took out the pump and kneeled next to the bike.

Air hissed from the inner tube with each pump. Sweat gathered around his forehead.

A high-pitched metallic squeak scratched at his ears each time he tried to push in more air. After a minute or so, he offered Sandra a grim smile. “This thing’s shot.” He got to his feet and kicked the tyre.

“Can’t you fix it?” Jenna asked.

“And how would you expect me to do that?”

Jenna shrugged and gestured along the road. “We’re not too far from the big Asda. I bet they’ll have bike stuff in there.”

“Good plan.” He turned to Sandra. “You think you’ll be alright pushing your bike? We’ll get a repair kit or something from the big Asda.”

Sandra looked past him. “How far?”

“Mile, tops.”

“I suppose.”

“Tommy really wants to ride with me,” Jenna said.

Liam straddled his bike and gestured to his son. “Well, Tommy needs to come with me.”

“I was thinking, maybe we could swap bikes.”

He glanced at Jenna’s bike. “You want me to ride a woman’s bike?”

“For crying out loud, Liam. Grow up.”

Stepping away from his bike, he raised his hands. “Okay.” He strode over to Jenna’s bike and mounted the saddle. “What gear have you got this on?” he muttered.

“What?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the Asda.”

“If Mum’s walking, we’re all walking.”

“Don’t worry about me, dear,” Sandra said. “You two go on ahead. I’ll be fine. I’ll catch you up.”

Liam shrugged one shoulder. “See?”

Jenna narrowed her eyes. “After what happened in Manchester?” She turned to her mum. “We stick together.”

“You’re a good girl, Jenna,” Sandra said. “I always knew you were a good girl.”

They walked for about a mile and made a right off the main road, pushing their bikes across the empty car park. The supermarket stood grey and green, a crisscross of steel pipes holding up its enormous roof.

“Always forget how huge this place is,” Liam said as they wove through bollards and passed between a pair of glass-covered trolley shelters. “It’s like a bloody stadium.”

“It all looks closed up,” Sandra said. “I don’t think we’re going to get a repair kit from here.”

“It’ll be fine,” Liam said. “I’ll use the shotgun if I have to.”

Sandra stopped and glared at him. “You’re going to rob it?”

“Nope. This is called burglary.”

“You can’t steal from Asda. That’s illegal. And I really don’t know what I think about those guns.”

“You disapprove—that’s how you feel. Seems pretty obvious to—”

“Liam,” Jenna snapped. She placed a hand on Sandra’s shoulder. “Mum, you can’t think of it like that. Things are different now.”

Sandra raised her chin. “Well, I don’t think it’s right. What about law and order? What about moral values?”

Liam laughed. “Law and order? Do you see any order around here? When things get back to normal, I’ll happily pay them back. I’ll leave them an IOU if it makes you feel better.”

“And for the repairs,” Sandra added.

“More than happy. But until then...” He pulled the shotgun from his bag and approached the main entrance.

The automatic doors slid open.

He turned and smiled. “They must have some backup generators on, or something.”

Passing through the doors, he wrinkled his nose at the acrid stench of rotting fish, meat, and fruit. Blue halos shone a dull light across the aisles as the usual striplights remained dark. Fridges and freezers hummed. He leaned his bike against the cigarette counter to the right and gestured towards a downwards ramp. “Travelator’s off. Bike stuff should be down there.”

“It’s awfully quiet,” Sandra said.

“Quiet is good.” Liam covered his nose. “God, it stinks.”

“I’m going to stay up here with Tommy. See if any of the fruit is still good.”

“Keep your rifle out.” He smiled at Tommy and tussled his hair. “You look after your mummy. Think you can do that, buddy?”

Tommy looked up and nodded. “Okay, Daddy.” He reached up and took Jenna’s hand.

The light grew dimmer as Liam led the way down the ramp.

Reaching the lower floor, he passed a wall of television sets and racks filled with video games and gadgets.

“I can see the bikes,” Sandra said. “You sure they’ll have a repair kit?”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” Liam muttered.

“Pardon?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll have a look.”

Sandra went first as they passed shelves stacked with board games and children’s toys, coming to a stop in front of a row of thirty or so bikes.

Liam glanced across the nearby shelves and walked over to a saddlebag. He unzipped the top flap and grinned. “We’ve got some bike tools. These should come in handy.”

“I think I have found a repair kit.” Sandra waved a hand-sized white plastic lozenge in her hand, a broad smile spreading across her face. Her smile dropped as she gazed down at the kit. “Doesn’t feel right taking this.”

Liam snatched the box from her hand and slipped it into a jacket pocket. “I wouldn’t worry about it.” He ran a finger along a bike frame and studied its rear child seat. “What are we doing?” He shook his head. “Help me get some of these down.”

Sandra eyed the bikes with an unsure look. “I don’t understand.”

“Grab yourself a new bike. This one’s got a seat for Tommy.” He tested the pedals and wheels, smiling as the gears clicked. He lifted the bike to the floor and wheeled it back towards the ramp. He watched as Sandra moved towards him, fingers wrapped around the handlebars of a gleaming mountain bike.

“Looks like a good one,” Liam said.

“Would you hold it, dear?” She glanced back towards the bikes. “It’s only fair we get one for Jenna too.”

“Go for it. I’ll meet you up there.” He nodded up the ramp and waved at Jenna, standing at the top. “Hey,” he called. “Will you give us a hand down here?”

Jenna made her way towards him, rifle in one hand, Tommy at the other. “What’s this?” she asked, reaching the lower floor.

“New bikes. Did you manage to get much food?”

“Most of the fruit’s off. But managed to get a few apples and some tins. Grabbed some matches as well. Figured they might come in useful.”

“Good work.”

“That’s a nice-looking bike.”

“It’s your mum’s. I was practical. I got one with a seat for Tommy. I think your mum’s planning on doing some off-roading.” He turned at the sound of a ticking bike chain.

Sandra joined them at the ramp. “I hope you don’t mind, I got this as well.” She held out a Minions backpack.

“Tommy will love that,” Jenna said.

“Oh. I got it for me.”

“Let’s go.” Liam leaned forward as he pushed his bike up the ramp.

Reaching the top, he held the bike next to his old one, smiling when Tommy ran over to him. “What do you think of this, buddy? You’ve got your own seat now.”

“No more sitting on that bit?”

“No more.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Jenna smiled at Liam when he lifted Tommy onto the seat and secured him with a lap belt. “You’re a good dad.” She kissed his cheek.

Liam shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“Wait there.” Jenna leaned her bike against the cigarette counter and ran into the shop.

“Where are you going?”

She did not respond.

“What’s she doing?” Sandra asked.

“Beats me.”

Jenna returned a few seconds later with something hidden behind her back.

“What is it?”

“I got you this.” She raised a bottle of whiskey and handed it to Liam. “You deserve it.”

Liam examined the bottle, feeling its weight and turning it in his hands. “Nice. Single malt. Thirty-years-old. This must have cost—” He stopped himself and grinned. “Nice one.”

“My saddle is awfully high,” Sandra said.

Liam checked the height of his own and frowned. “I’ll sort all the saddles.” He unclipped Tommy from the seat. “Do you want to go with Grandma and choose some sweets while I sort this?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Come on, dear. Shall we go and find you a Milky Bar?”

He took out the spanner and adjusted the saddles. “Sorted.”

Tommy ran on ahead of Sandra, holding two packets of Magic Stars.

“Give one of those to your mum for later,” Liam said.

“I don’t want to. Grandma said I was good. I can have two.”

“Fine. Come on.” He patted the child seat. “Let’s go, buddy.”

42. Michael

Michael walked up his garden path while Dawn and Brandon remained in the truck. He went inside, tore off his gas mask, and flicked the light switch.

The room stayed dark.

He tried the switch again.

Nothing.

Through the stench of sweat and rubber, he caught a faint whiff of Tina’s perfume.

He froze. His chest tightened. His stomach pitched.

What had he done?

Taking a breath, he climbed the stairs to the bathroom and washed his face.

He dragged an Adidas holdall from his wardrobe, set it on the bed, and stuffed in two pairs of jeans, a couple of T-shirts and jerseys, boxers, and socks.

Rummaging inside his top drawer, he pulled out a black toiletries bag to find an almost-full can of deodorant, shower gel, a flannel, a half-full tube of Colgate, and a travel toothbrush. He grabbed a towel from behind the bathroom door and added them to his bag before making his way down to the kitchen.

Searching the cupboards, he took a packet of Jammie Dodgers and a couple of chicken and mushroom flavoured Pot Noodles. He dropped two tins of beans into his pack and snatched a bag of Haribos for the journey. Rummaging through the drawers, he found a cigarette lighter, which he pocketed.

His phone was still on the sofa when he returned to the sitting room.

Brandon honked his horn.

“I’m coming, for fuck’s sake.” Michael waved at him through the window. “Just a minute.”

He checked his phone for messages.

No signal.

He tested a black biro on the back of an envelope. What was he going to say? What could he say?

‘I’m sorry. Gone to Anglesey. Love you x.’

With a deep breath, he set the note down on the dining table and pulled the gas mask back onto his head.

Brandon honked again.

43. Liam

Liam started at the sound of motorbike engines roaring in the distance. His eyes darted past rows of terraced houses and shopfronts, his gaze fixing on Sandra.

“She looks knackered.” He brought his bike to a halt. “This is going to take ages.”

“Why is Grandma so slow, Daddy?”

“She’s a lot older than us,” Jenna said. “She’s just tired. And Daddy needs to give her a break.”

“I just think she’s holding us back.”

“From what? You got some sort of appointment you need to get to?”

Liam shook his head. “Fair enough. I just want to get home.” He let out a sigh. “Could she be any slower?”

“You really jumped at that motorbike.”

“The roads have been quiet. What do you expect?” Liam turned at Sandra’s approach.

“Sorry you keep having to wait for me, dear.” She let out a long, deep breath, and pulled her bike up next to Jenna’s. “I’m not as fit as I used to be.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jenna said. “Liam was just saying how much he’s looking forward to getting home and that we’re going to stick together all the way. Didn’t you, Liam?”

Liam nodded. “Yep.”

Tommy’s gaze flipped between his dad and grandma. “Why is Grandma holding us back?”

“She’s not,” Jenna snapped.

“But Daddy said—”

“But Daddy said we need to keep going.” Jenna turned to her mum. “You feeling okay?”

“I think I could do with a shower. Sweaty work.”

Liam nodded. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t look too good.”

Sandra waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll be fine. We’ll get something to eat, maybe even a shot of that whiskey of yours.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you liked whiskey.”

“Brandy is more my tipple. And how’s Tommy? Are you being a good boy?”

“Yes, Grandma. I’m sitting in the big boy chair.”

“That’s right. You’re being a big boy.”

Liam spun at the noise of motorbike engines. “Where the hell are they coming from?”

“Language,” Sandra said.

“What?” Liam turned to her, tilting his head.

“You shouldn’t use words like that in front of the boy.”

He turned to Jenna. “You got any idea what she’s on about?”

Jenna leaned in. “Hell,” she whispered.

“Hell? What’s wrong with hell?” He glanced at Sandra, shaking his head at her folded arms. “I think we’ve got worse things to worry about, don’t you?”

“There’s just no excuse for bad language in my books. As soon as you accept bad language, everything else follows.”

“I think we’re beyond that point, don’t you?” He turned to Jenna, lowering his voice. “Say something to her. If you don’t, I swear I’m going to say something I regret.”

“I can hear you.”

Liam shot her a glare. “How I talk around my son is none of your business.” He shrugged Jenna’s hand away from his shoulder. “You’d still be on that punctured bike if it wasn’t for me.”

Sandra raised her chin. “Or perhaps, with the way you were brought up—”

“Stop it!” Jenna waved her hands. “Listen to you both.”

“What the hell?” Liam nodded towards the pair of motorbikes hurtling towards them. “Grab your gun.”

Jenna nodded and took up her rifle.

“Sandra, I need you to hold this.” He gestured to his bike’s handlebars.

Sandra folded her arms and turned away. “I don’t see why—”

“For the love of God, just grab the fucking bike and shut the fuck up.” He glared at her, raising the shotgun to his shoulders as the pair of bikers came to a stop on the road behind them.

Sandra nodded and stepped over to Liam’s bike, taking the handlebars as he dismounted from the saddle. “These goons, again.”

The bikers turned off their engines. They both wore masks beneath their helmets, and sheets of thick leather hung from their shoulders. The taller one wore a gas mask while the other’s was reminiscent of a falcon, a long beak extending almost a foot away from the face.

The bird-man held a pistol at his side. The one with the gas mask stood unarmed.

“We need you to drop your weapons,” the bird-man said, his voice deep and muffled.

“Fat chance, mate. As far as I can tell, we’re better armed than you. Step back.”

“We need to check you are not infected.”

“You already checked us,” Jenna said.

“I don’t think it was them,” Liam muttered. “Yeah, some of your buddies in Leeds made us strip off at the side of the road.”

Sandra turned to him, wide-eyed. “You never told me about that.”

Liam ignored her, his finger hovering over the trigger. He nodded at the bird-man’s pistol. “I think it’s you who needs to drop something, mate. Put that away, or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

“Language!” Sandra glared at him.

“We need to make sure you’re not infected,” the man with the gas mask said, his breath clicking with each word. “It’s for the good of everyone.”

Liam gritted his teeth. “We’re clean. Now, are you going to move on, or am I going to have to waste one of these bullets?”

The bird-man slid the pistol inside his cloak and raised his hands. “Okay.” He retreated towards his bike and pulled the man with the gas mask’s arm. “Come on.”

Liam narrowed his eyes as they started their engines and drove away. “Arseholes,” he muttered.

“Language!”

44. Michael

Michael stepped into the night and returned to the truck, shoving the holdall into the footwell.

“You took your time.” Brandon turned the ignition.

Michael didn’t respond.

“You get everything you need?” Dawn asked.

Michael nodded. “Some fresh clothes. Few supplies.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Can’t be without a toothbrush, you know?”

Brandon followed the road out of Newcastle.

Streetlights flashed by as the silence became almost unbearable.

Michael shifted in his seat. “Power was out.”

“Yep.” Brandon kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“Phones too.”

“Good.”

“Good?” Michael turned to him.

Brandon shrugged. “It’s all part of the plan.”

“It will help stop the spread,” Dawn said.

Michael blinked. “Wait, what? The Doctors are behind this?”

“The Director knows what she’s doing.”

“How is stopping people from communicating going to stop the spread? Don’t you think doing that will have the opposite effect?”

“I don’t know. I suppose it depends what your aims are.”

“Let’s hope your lot’s got some better ideas than this.”

Brandon slammed on the brakes and turned to Michael. “Do you want to get out? I can drop you off here and we’ll carry on without you.”

Michael raised his hands. He didn’t need reminding what Brandon did to people who were against the Doctors. “Just keep going. I was just saying, that’s all.”

“Well, don’t.”

45. Liam

Salts Mill loomed to Liam’s right as he crossed over the river. Water frothed around the weir.

“There’s some benches over there,” Jenna said.

“I’m hungry, Daddy. What can I have for pudding?”

Liam smiled. “We’ve not eaten yet, buddy. We’re going to have some dinner now.”

“It’s quite nice down here,” Sandra said, coming to a stop when she crossed the bridge.

Liam fingered his shotgun and glanced over his shoulder. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“There’s a park, Daddy.” Tommy pointed past a gate. “Can I play? Can I? Can I? Please.”

“We’ll have to look to see if it’s open, buddy.” Liam turned to Jenna. “Keep an eye out.” He skirted past the gateposts and pulled the bike to a halt next to a picnic table.

Taking a seat, Liam stared down across the river, the mill casting a rectangular shadow over the river’s surface, the water’s flow constant and churning.

Tommy ran excitedly to a balance beam while Sandra arranged her bike next to the nearest bench.

Liam watched his son playing, the faint trace of a smile edging his lips. It was good that with all the craziness, there was still room for play.

Sorrow struck him as his mind drifted to his mother. What had happened to her body? Picturing her in a pile of random corpses made him want to gag. His fingernails pressed into his palms.

“Liam?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, I was miles away. What?”

“How are we going to heat these up?” Jenna waved a tin of beans in front of him.

“Probably best to just have them cold.”

She rolled her eyes. “Again?”

“If we make a fire, chances are we’ll attract attention with the smoke. Last thing we need is to run into more of those weirdos.”

Sandra took a seat opposite Liam and Jenna. “I was going to ask you about that. What did those men want?”

Liam shrugged. “I don’t know. They seem to be some kind of gang who go round checking people for the plague.”

“And they followed you from Leeds?”

Liam swallowed. “Different people.”

Sandra shook her head. “I don’t understand. I thought you saw them in Leeds?”

“They were definitely different people.” Liam stared down at his hands. “The first ones were women.”

“So how do you know there’s a link?”

“I don’t.” He shrugged one shoulder. “All I know is we’ve had two run-ins with people in weird costumes wanting to check us for the plague.”

Sandra leaned forward, resting on her elbows. “Like plague doctors?”

“What the hell’s a plague doctor?”

She gave him a chiding look, eyes narrowed, and turned to Jenna. “You remember, dear? We saw an exhibition at Thackray when you were a girl. They used to wear funny masks and try to heal sick people.”

Jenna let out a long breath and folded her arms. “I don’t remember.”

“Of course you do. They scared you for months. You kept having nightmares about them. You’d crawl into our bed at one in the morning. You were even scared to go to the normal doctors.”

“I really don’t remember.”

Liam watched Tommy as he ran up and down an embankment, singing the music from Octonauts. “Careful, buddy. Keep where we can see you.”

“They’d try to heal people by lancing buboes. I don’t think they really knew what they were doing.”

“Jesus,” Jenna muttered. “No wonder I was scared.”

“They were quacks.”

“Plague doctors.” Liam nodded his head and got to his feet, scanning the park for Tommy. “Tommy?”

Jenna shot up. “Where is he?” She scrambled free from the bench, starting as Tommy jumped from behind a bin, laughing.

“Boo!” He offered Jenna a beaming smile.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” she snapped. “Don’t you ever, ever hide when we’re calling you.” She strode over to him, wagging a forefinger. “Do you understand me?”

Tommy looked up at her, his bottom lip quivering, his eyes filling with tears, and nodded silently.

Moving over to Jenna, Liam placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled down at their son. “It’s okay, buddy. We just need you to stay where we can see you. Mummy got frightened, that’s all. Don’t worry.”

Tommy looked between them and dragged a sleeve across his snotty nose. “Mummy shouted.”

Liam tussled Tommy’s hair. “Don’t worry, buddy. You’ve just got to keep where we can see you.” He turned to Jenna. “Mummy just overreacted, didn’t you, Mummy?”

Jenna swallowed and took in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry I shouted, Tommy. You know I love you. Perhaps, if Daddy was keeping a closer eye on you, I wouldn’t have to shout.”

The corners of Liam’s mouth twitched. “Come on, Tommy. I’ll push you on the swings and maybe your Mummy can calm down a bit.”

“Fine,” Jenna said, marching back towards the picnic bench.

Liam took Tommy’s hand and walked with him to the swings and lifted him on. “Are you ready? Hold on tight.”

“I am...”

He pushed against the seat, smiling as the swing gained momentum.

“Higher, Daddy. Higher.”

“Hold on tight.”

“To the moon, Daddy. To the moon.”

“Five, four, three, two, one...”

“Blast off!”

Liam gave the swing a hard push, smiling at Tommy’s laughter. “Is that fun?”

“Yes, Daddy. But I want to get off now. My tummy keeps making noises.”

Grabbing the chain, Liam brought the swing to a stop and let Tommy slip to the ground.

“We should get something to eat, buddy. Let’s go and see Mummy.”

“I don’t want her to shout at me, Daddy.”

“She won’t.” Liam took his hand and made their way back towards the picnic bench. “I’m sure Grandma will tell her off.”

When they reached the seat, Tommy scrambled up and sat next to Sandra. Liam offered Jenna a half-smile, frowning when she pursed her lips.

“Are we going to have those beans, then?” Liam asked, taking a seat.

“They’ll be cold.”

“I’ve got a few bags of crisps and some chocolate in my bag.”

“We need to sort something better than this.” Jenna drummed her fingers on the table. “We can’t live on cold beans. It’s not right.”

“It’s just until we get home. If we pass a Maccies, I’ll get us a couple of burgers. How’s that for a deal?”

Jenna smiled.

“Why were you cross, Mummy?”

Jenna’s smile dropped. “Because I didn’t know where you were and it made me sad. I didn’t mean to shout, but I was very worried.”

“Did Grandma tell you off?” Tommy leaned forward, snatching a packet of roast beef flavoured Monster Munch.

Sandra tutted. “I did no such thing.”

“Daddy said you tell Mummy off.”

Sandra huffed and folded her arms. “Did he, now?”

Liam fumbled a Twirl and reached under the table to pick it up. “I was just saying you told Mummy not to shout at him. It was nothing, really.”

Tommy pointed to the river and climbed onto his seat.

“Get down from there.” Sandra pulled his arm. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Why’s that man in the river?”

Liam followed Tommy’s gaze and shook his head at the sight of a bloated corpse moving with the current. He rose to his feet and lifted Tommy down. “Don’t worry about that, buddy. Tell me about your favourite Octonaut.” He glanced over his shoulder, shielding his son from the dead.

46. Michael

Michael sat up as Brandon pulled off the dual carriageway into a service station.

Scores of trucks and vans stood in rows along the carpark as men and women meandered around in masks and capes.

“There must be hundreds of them,” Michael said, leaning forward.

Dawn nodded. “This is where the real plan begins.”

Brandon parked up next to a Jeep and was greeted by a man with a wicker basket handing out packet sandwiches and cartons of orange juice.

“This is insane,” Michael said, scanning the crowd. “How the hell did this get organised?”

Brandon and Dawn gave no answer.

“So, what’s the plan?” Michael asked.

“We’ll spend the night here then set off first thing,” Brandon said. “There should be more of us on the way.”

“You got a room, or something?”

Brandon shook his head. “We’ll sleep in here.”

“Oh.”

47. Liam

The sun hung low when Liam reached the outskirts of Ilkley. Victorian terraced houses lined the road on either side of them as the air dropped cooler.

“We need to find somewhere to sleep,” Jenna said. “It’s getting dark and Tommy’s been on the back of there for hours.”

Liam freewheeled to a stop at the kerb’s edge and glanced up at the sky and then towards Sandra. “Any ideas?”

“I don’t know. I doubt we’ll find a hotel.”

“Hold this.” He gestured to his bike’s handlebars.

Jenna moved over and took the bike as Tommy dipped his head sleepily. “What are you doing?”

Liam scanned the windows, his gaze fixing on pirate bunting and a toy ship.

He approached the house and rapped on the door, standing away from the step as he waited for a response. He shrugged and tried again.

Nothing.

Sliding his shotgun from his back, he loaded a cartridge, pointed the barrel towards the lock, and pulled the trigger.

The blast echoed around him.

His shoulder jerked back with the recoil.

The door swung open and the oily smoke lingered. He turned and smiled, waving his hand. “Come in.”

He stood in the doorway as Jenna unfastened Tommy from his seat. “You going to help me with this, or what?” She pointed to his bike.

“Right.” Liam went back through the gate and took his bike, wheeling it inside as Tommy and Jenna followed. He leaned the bike against the right-hand wall and went back to the front door, meeting Sandra’s glare. “You coming in?”

Sandra glanced over her shoulder and stood with folded arms, a deep line set on her brow.

“Well?”

“I’m coming,” she snapped, dipping ahead and pushing the bike past him.

Liam closed the door behind her and took her bike, wedging it against the front door. “That’ll have to do.”

He skirted along the left-hand wall. Jenna’s voice drifted from the kitchen. The sitting room door stood half open and Liam poked his head inside, noting the sofa, the coffee table, the oversized TV dominating the wall.

Turning back, he climbed the stairs, floorboards creaking beneath his feet.

A shadowy gloom engulfed the landing. He opened the door ahead. Faint light trickled through the window. A bathtub stood to the left, a sink to the right, the toilet straight ahead.

He closed the door behind him and stood at the toilet. He relieved himself as a pulse throbbed in his head.

When he finished, he yanked the toilet handle.

Nothing happened.

He tried again and shook his head. Had the water stopped? Getting up, he turned the hot tap. Something spluttered inside—a gasp from deep within the pipes. But no water came.

He tried the cold tap.

Nothing.

Closing the door behind him, he checked the room on the left. A double bed and a pair of wardrobes filled the space. Another giant television hung on the wall.

He reached the last door and shouldered it open.

A pair of toy boxes stood in the corner, a chest of drawers to the right, and a child’s bed next to the door. Tiny Lego blocks lay strewn across the carpet and posters of dinosaurs surrounded a large television set.

He cleared his throat and went downstairs, slumping onto the sofa, the voices of his family muffled through the wall.

He thought about his mother, about the death—too much death.

His breath caught in his throat when he tried to picture Tommy’s future. What sort of world would he be raised in? How much horror would he have to see? What toll would it take on his mind?

Blinking away a tear, he sat up to see Jenna leaning against the doorway, watching him.

“Hey.” He swallowed. “Tommy will love the room upstairs. There’s just one other bedroom though. I don’t mind if you want to share it with your mum. I’ll just crash on one of these sofas. The way I’m feeling, I could sleep anywhere.”

“You okay?” She glided into the room and sat on the sofa next to him, placing a hand on his knee.

Liam sighed and rose to his feet. “We should get Tommy ready for bed, get him something to eat.”

She reached up to him. “Talk to me, Liam.”

“I’m fine, honestly. I’m just glad Tommy’s okay.”

“Fine.” Jenna folded her arms across her chest, slumping back into the sofa. “Get Tommy to come through. I’ll sort him for bed.”

He left the room and wandered into the kitchen. A single worktop stretched along the left-hand wall. Cupboards hung above. Another TV balanced on a stand jutting from the wall.

Tommy ran into him, wrapping his arms around his legs. “Daddy.”

“Hey, buddy. Hope you’re being a good boy for Grandma.” He smiled at Sandra and she glared back. He patted Tommy on the head, ushering him out. “You go see your mum. It’s time to start getting ready for bed.”

He waited for Tommy to leave the room then turned to Sandra. “Everything okay?”

Sandra didn’t respond.

“I can’t be doing with this passive-aggressive bullshit. Things are going to get really awkward if you don’t talk to me.”

“I would rather not say.”

“Bullshit. Just say what’s on your mind.”

“It’s your language. It’s your behaviour.”

Liam raised his hands. “What have I done?”

Sandra shook her head. “All this effing and blinding in front of your boy. Now you’re breaking and entering into someone’s house, someone’s home.”

“Whoever lived here isn’t here now—they’re probably dead.”

Sandra tutted through the silence. “I just don’t think you’re being a very good role model to your son.”

“Really? I didn’t hear you complaining when we let you come with us. And while we are on the subject of role models—do you think being a passive-aggressive, judgemental bitch is being a good role model for your daughter?”

Her mouth dropped open. “I have never—”

“We need to get through this.” He pointed past her. “I’ll do everything I need to keep my family safe. And that includes you. But I can’t have you giving me crap.”

“My daughter is old enough to make her decisions, but your boy is four. He shouldn’t have to hear such language.”

“My boy—he’s my son.” Liam pointed at her, eyes narrowing. “Keep out of it.”

“I’m entitled to my opinion.”

“And you’re entitled to keep your opinions to yourself.”

Sandra sighed and took in a deep breath through her nose.

“Well? Anything to add?”

Silence hung between them, sharp, bristling.

Liam’s shoulders dropped and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen.” His voice softened. “I just want to get home. I’ve been on the road for days now. We’ve got gangs running round. We’ve got whatever this plague is. My mum’s just died. I just want to get home. If I said something you don’t like, I’m sorry you didn’t like it. We’ve got bigger things to worry about. Choose your battles.”

Sandra sniffed and gazed down at her hands. “It’s hard for me as well. You don’t know what I saw in Leeds. So much chaos. I just want things to be the way they were.”

Liam walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know we don’t always see eye-to-eye. But I know you love Jenna and you love Tommy. That world you’re trying to hold on to is gone.” He shrugged. “Maybe one day things will get back to normal. Maybe this is exactly what the world needs to sweep away the bullshit. But for now, we’ve got to focus on getting through this. We’ve got to work together. Can we please just call a truce? You’ve got your opinions, but they’re not helpful to anyone.” He raised a hand when Sandra went to speak. “Please. Just promise me.”

Sandra swallowed and nodded. “Okay,” she whispered, squeezing Liam’s hand. “I’ll try my best.”

“Good.” He let out a sigh. “Me too.”

“Thank you.” She met his gaze with watery eyes.

He turned from the kitchen and marched to the sitting room. He returned with the bottle of whiskey from his rucksack and set it on the counter top.

“What’s that for?” Sandra asked.

Grabbing three tumblers from a cupboard, Liam poured three drinks and handed one to Sandra. “I think we need this.”

She nodded, picked up her glass, and knocked its contents back in one mouthful. She gasped and fanned her face. “I think I’ll need another one of those.”

Liam smiled. “No worries.”

48. Michael

Michael started from his sleep at the sound of fifty or so roaring motorbikes. “What the fuck?”

“I think that’s the last of them,” Dawn said.

Michael squinted at the morning sun and shook his head. What the hell had he got himself into?

“You should probably get a wash,” Brandon said.

“Will do.” Michael pulled on his gas mask, grabbed his washbag from his holdall, and made his way into the service station.

He checked a disabled toilet and found it empty.

He stripped to his waist and washed, his back and chest grimy with sweat.

As he brushed his teeth, he met his own gaze in the mirror, hardly recognising the man staring back at him.

His body screamed for him to get far away from the Doctors.

But if this was the best way to help...

“Michael?”

He turned at the sound of Brandon’s voice.

“You okay in there?”

“Yep.” He sprayed himself with deodorant and rolled his rubber suit back up his body, hating the way it stuck to his skin. With a sigh, he placed his gas mask back on. “I’m ready.”

He followed Brandon back to the truck and climbed into the cabin next to Dawn.

“It looks like we’re on the move,” Brandon said, starting up the truck’s engine as the other Doctors returned to the vehicles. He waved another truck past and pulled out of the parking space.

“Are all these people going to Anglesey?”

Dawn nodded. “This is exciting, isn’t it?”

49. Liam

Liam strained to focus on the giant TV, a deep frown etching his face. Finally remembering where he was, he yawned.

He rolled his neck and stretched, getting to his feet, his jacket sliding to the floor. Unfamiliar creaks and the resonant echoes of movement pressed against his skull. Ambling through to the kitchen, he stopped and forced a smile at Sandra. “Hey.”

Her head jerked up, her hand rushing to her chest. “I didn’t hear you get up, dear.”

“Morning.” Liam rubbed his eyes and pointed to the plates of beans resting on the worktop. “That breakfast?”

Sandra tutted and shook her head. “It’s cold, I’m afraid. Nothing’s working. And look at this.” She waved a hand vaguely. “No dining table. Where do these people eat? I bet they have it on their knees in front of that big telly through there.”

Liam shrugged. “Probably. There’s some trays over there.” He nodded towards a stack beside the bread bin.

“Horrible plastic things—I suppose they’ll have to do.”

“Sleep alright?”

“At least that bed was comfortable. Jenna kept rolling round in her sleep, tossing and turning all night. I didn’t know she talked in her sleep.”

Liam rubbed the back of his neck and reached for a plate. “Neither did I.” He scanned across the worktop. “Is there a spoon, a fork perhaps?”

Sandra tried a couple of drawers. She opened the one beneath the draining board and grabbed some forks, handing one to Liam.

“Thanks.”

“Who’s Frank?”

The fork dropped from Liam’s hand and clattered against the tiles. He bent down and snatched it up. “Frank?” He wiped the fork on his shirt. “Why do you ask?”

Sandra turned back to Liam and arranged the forks next to the plates. “She called out his name a few times.” She sighed. “I know there was that thing with you two a few years ago. She hasn’t been...” Her voice trailed off.

Liam let out a shuddering breath and shook his head. “Nothing like that. Frank, he...” He stared down at his hands, not sure how much he should tell her. “You know that farm in the middle of the M62?”

“Which farm?”

“The one the motorway goes around.”

Sandra nodded, sweat glistening on her forehead. “Of course.”

“Frank put us up for the night when we were on the way to pick up Tommy.”

“Did something happen?”

Liam froze. “What do you mean?”

“Did he do something? To Jenna, I mean.”

“No, no, nothing like that. He gave us food and put us up for the night.”

“What are you two talking about?”

Liam glanced back over his shoulder as Jenna stood in the doorway.

“Liam was just telling me about Frank, dear.”

Jenna stiffened, eyes darting between Liam and her mum.

Clearing his throat, Liam met her gaze for a second, and gave a slight shake of his head. “She said you’d called his name a few times in the night. I was just telling her how he put us up for the night, how we were worried that he might be ill.”

“Right.” Jenna let out a trembling breath. “I’ll get Tommy.” She turned and left, her footsteps thundering up the stairs.

“You two haven’t had a falling out, have you?”

“No.” Liam sighed and wandered back through to the sitting room. He balanced the tray on his knees and scooped the beans into his mouth. Jenna and Tommy joined him and ate their food in silence. Sandra stood at the door, watching.

When he swallowed his last mouthful, Liam got to his feet and took Jenna and Tommy’s trays through to the kitchen, stacking them next to the sink.

“We should get packed up, and get on the road.” He opened his rucksack and checked inside. Satisfied, he closed the flap and glanced up at Sandra. “Do you think you’ll be ready to go in the next five minutes?”

She nodded.

“Good. I need the loo. You should get your stuff together. We’ve still got a way to go.”

“Come on, Tommy.” Jenna got up from the sofa. “Let’s get you dressed.”

Liam trudged up the stairs behind Jenna and Tommy and locked himself in the bathroom. He sat on the toilet, his neck stiff as pangs of pain rumbled in his stomach. He held his eyes closed for a long moment. How was he going to protect his family? How was he going to get home? What the hell would he do when he got there?

A knock at the door brought him back to the present.

“You okay in there?” Jenna asked.

“Coming.” Liam finished and got to his feet, closing the toilet lid behind him. He hesitated when he reached the flush and tried anyway, just in case.

“Everything alright?”

He met Jenna’s gaze and gestured behind him. “It’s a bit of a no-go area in there.” He smirked and fanned a hand in front of his face. “No flush.”

Jenna wrinkled her nose. “We’re ready.”

Sandra wheeled her bike out first as Jenna followed.

Liam patted the child seat. “You coming up, little buddy?”

“I don’t want to, Daddy. I don’t like it.”

“We need to get home though. I need you to be a really, really good boy and get on the seat.”

“No.” Tommy folded his arms and flopped onto the bottom step.

Liam narrowed his eyes. “Come on, buddy. You want to get back to your bedroom, don’t you? See your dinosaurs? Your teddies? I bet Mister Fluffy is missing you.”

“I said no, Daddy. I’m not going on there. I’m staying here.”

“This isn’t our house. I don’t want to get cross at you. Now get on the bike.”

“No! I don’t like that seat.”

“Get up!” Liam snapped. “Do as you’re fucking told.”

Jenna gripped his shoulder. “Don’t you ever swear at him.” She glared at him. “Tommy, do as he says. Get on the bike. Now!”

An ear-splitting wail erupted from Tommy.

“Now look what you’ve done.” Liam crouched in front of Tommy, placing an arm around him. “I’m sorry, buddy. So sorry.” He lifted him by the armpits and lowered him onto the seat, pressing down as Tommy’s legs flailed. “Keep still, buddy.” Liam’s voice was low, soothing. “Keep calm. It’s going to be okay. We’re going home.”

50. Michael

Michael climbed down from the truck, stretched, and took in the sea air. He stared across the Menai Strait and shook his head at the Samaritans’ phone.

He’d gone through dark times, but hurling himself off a bridge was something else.

A woman wearing a bird mask climbed onto the roof of an articulated lorry and spoke through a megaphone. “These are the end times, and we are upon our Garden of Eden.”

Cheers rose around him.

“Anyone on a motorbike should go first. Secure the port at Holyhead. The rest of us need to secure Llanfair PG. That will be our base. We must check everyone on the way. Make sure the island is clean. We will secure new homes and we will not compromise with anyone who stands in our path.”

The cheers were drowned out by roaring motorbike engines as the vehicles swarmed away from the mainland.

51. Liam

Farmland and hedgerows lined the road ahead as the Pennines dipped and rose along the horizon. “I think we’ve got about an hour of light left,” Liam said as Jenna rode at his side. He glared back over his shoulder. “Your mum’s lagging again.”

“Maybe we should slow down a bit. She doesn’t look too well.”

“We’ll stop at the next village. See if we can find another house.” He slowed his pedalling, frowning at Sandra struggling to keep up. He brought the bike to a stop and waited.

Jenna pulled up beside him.

He smiled at Tommy. “You okay, little buddy?”

“I’m hungry, Daddy. My legs and bottom hurt.”

“I know. We’ll get something to eat soon, I promise.”

“Why is Grandma so slow?”

Liam shrugged. “She’s tired.”

“We’re all tired.” Jenna turned to her mum. “We’re going to find somewhere to stay at the next village. You okay to keep going?”

Sandra gasped and spluttered out a cough. “Sorry, dear. You forget how hilly the Dales are.” She brought a sleeve across her forehead, wiping away the pooling sweat.

“Clue’s in the name,” Liam muttered. He turned at the sound of an engine. A silver Vauxhall Astra drove towards them, slowing down as the blond driver passed, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“How rude,” Sandra said when the car disappeared over the brow of a hill.

“What?” Liam asked.

“They could have stopped. They could have at least seen if we needed some help. They could have even offered us a lift. My knees are gone.”

“At least people are still getting around.” He nodded after the car. “That’s a good thing.”

Sandra pursed her lips. “Perhaps.”

“Are we okay to keep going?” Jenna asked. “It’s getting a bit chilly out here. I don’t want Tommy to still be out when it’s dark.”

Liam set off first, occasionally slowing down to let Sandra catch up. “Not too far,” he said after a while, gesturing ahead. “I think it’s just over this next hill.”

A truck hurtled past him and skidded to a halt at an angle, blocking the road ahead. A second truck screeched to a stop behind them.

“What now?” He turned to Jenna. “Rifle!”

A masked figure emerged from the truck ahead, its body shrouded in leather.

“Plague doctors.” Liam fumbled for his shotgun, dragging it from his rucksack.

The figure approached as a second emerged, then a third and fourth from the truck behind.

Liam raised his shotgun and aimed it at the closest figure. “Don’t come any closer.”

The figure pointed a pair of pistols at Liam as two more figures emerged. Liam swept his gaze around, taking in the weapons—the pistols, the shotgun, the rifles. He raised his hands and dropped his shotgun. “What do you want?”

A figure with a mask resembling a deformed elephant glided towards him and stopped a few metres away.

“I’m scared, Daddy.”

“It’s okay, buddy.”

“Are you infected?” a male voice asked.

“Leave us alone,” Jenna snapped. “We’ve already gone through this twice.”

“Please put your weapon down,” the man said, aiming one of his pistols at Jenna. “We just need to be sure.”

“What do they want?” Sandra asked.

“We need you all to undress,” a female voice said through the gas mask. “We need to make sure you’re clean.”

“We’re not infected,” Liam growled. “You’re scaring the boy.”

Tommy remained silent.

“This is very serious,” the man with the elephant mask said. “We need to inspect you—all of you.” He kept his pistols aimed at Liam and Jenna.

Liam took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “And if we’re clean, you leave us alone?”

“We mean you no malice,” the woman said. “We are trying to stop this thing from spreading any more. If you are clean, you can be on your way.”

Liam snorted. “I think you’re a bit late for that.”

“Just give them what they want,” Sandra said.

“Fine.” Sighing, Liam climbed from his bike, keeping his hand on the saddle. He unfastened Tommy from the seat and held him on his hip. “It’s okay,” he whispered, stroking his son’s hair. “These people aren’t going to hurt you. They just want to make sure that you’re not unwell.”

“But my legs are hurting, Daddy.”

“You’ll be okay. You’re not ill.”

The plague doctors moved in, circling Jenna, undressing her, prodding her, inspecting her crotch and armpits. She reached down for her clothes, pulling them back on when they moved away.

They prised Tommy from Liam’s grip, pulling down his trousers and lifting up his sweater. “He’s clean,” the man in the elephant mask said, waving a hand.

“Go to your mum,” Liam whispered, patting Tommy on the head, glaring up at the man.

Tommy ran across the asphalt, throwing his arms around his mum’s legs.

“Get this over with.” Liam raised his hands as the pair of doctors pulled down his jeans and poked around his inner leg, fingering his ribs and examining his armpits.

“He’s clean.”

“Told you.” Liam pulled his shirt down, his lip curled in disgust. “I hope you’re fucking proud of yourselves.”

“We’ve got one,” the woman in the gas mask shouted.

A pair of plague doctors ran at Sandra as she stood wide-eyed, naked, buboes bulging from her armpits. They tackled her to the ground, her screams muffled as they bundled her in polythene.

The man with the elephant mask strode over to her, held a pistol to her head, and pulled the trigger.

52. Michael

Michael arrived at Llanfair near the convoy’s rear.

What he assumed were residents stood in lines at the roadside as Doctors marched either side of them, brandishing rifles and bats, axes, pistols, and tyre irons. One man wielded a Samurai sword.

Brandon slowed the truck when a Doctor gestured for him to roll down the window. “What’s up?”

“Can you park up over there?” He pointed to a medical centre. “We need to deal with the residents.”

Brandon nodded and entered the car park, finding a space between a pair of box trucks.

Michael got out and gestured back along the road. “You think they’ve secured the bridges?”

Brandon shrugged. “Wait there.” He returned a minute or so later with the woman wearing the bird mask. “This is the Director. You should address any operational questions to her.”

“The Director, right?” Michael folded his arms. “I’m Michael.”

“What’s so important? We’re trying to secure the area.”

“You got roadblocks on the bridges? Cordoned off key areas?”

The Director inclined her head. “What do you mean?”

“If we’re going to stop the spread, we need to contain movement. Stands to reason.”

“Indeed. I will have a team sent to secure the bridge.”

“Both of them?”

“Both?”

“Yeah.” Michael gestured behind her. “Menai Bridge is the one we came over. And if I remember rightly, you’ve also got Britannia Bridge, and no doubt Holyhead to secure.”

The Director nodded. “Thank you. Now if you don’t mind.” She stepped past him to direct the other Doctors as they bundled residents into the backs of trucks.

The Director strode behind the trucks, checking their shutters, and signalled for the Doctors to follow.

Michael kept his face impassive, an icy mask, cold, unflinching. Questions clashed with questions. What the hell was going on?

53. Liam

“Jenna. Jenna!” Liam glanced back at her, his hands tightening against the handlebars as she stared ahead, eyes on the road, fixed, distant. “Talk to me.”

She didn’t respond.

Trees lined the road as fields stretched towards grey hills in the distance. A red tractor stood in a lay-by, its wheels caked with mud.

“Daddy, what’s wrong with Mummy?”

Liam sighed, swerving to avoid a drain cover. “I don’t know, buddy. She’s just tired. It’s going to be dark soon.”

“Why isn’t Grandma coming?”

“She—”

“Did she die? Is she dead, Daddy?”

“She is...she’s not very well.”

“Did those bad men take her?”

Liam clenched his jaw and stared ahead.

“Daddy? Daddy?”

“What?” He glared at Tommy over his shoulder.

“Did those bad men take Grandma away?”

“Yes. They took her away.”

“Is she dead?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” He didn’t say anything for several minutes.

“Jenna. For fuck’s sake, Jenna. Answer me. We need to find somewhere to stay.” He nodded to the darkening sky.

She turned to him and glowered. “Fine.”

Liam scanned the fields and pointed towards a farmhouse, its front wall painted cream and blue. “Let’s try here.” He took a right off the road and followed a packed-earth track and wheeled the bike across a cattle grid and through a steel gate.

A bumpy asphalt courtyard opened out before them, leading to a series of barns and garages.

Approaching the house, Liam knocked on the door and waited, feet planted on the ground.

“Hello?” He gazed up at the windows, searching for movement, and turned to Jenna. “We should take a look, make sure there’s no one around.” He tried the handle and found the door unlocked. “At least we won’t have to blast the lock off.”

Jenna met his grin with a blank look.

Releasing Tommy’s safety belt, Liam lifted him by the armpits, holding the boy on his hip as he awkwardly leaned the bike against the wall. “Bring your rifle. Let’s take a look around.”

Jenna wheeled the bike next to Liam’s.

Liam led the way as they searched through the barns and garages, the scents of animal dung, diesel, and fertiliser thick in the air. “Looks pretty quiet. What do you think?”

A long silence stretched between them before Jenna managed a languid shrug.

“Let’s go inside.”

They returned to the front door and Liam knocked again. “Hello?” When no response came, he shouldered his way through the door and into a kitchen. He ducked his head beneath an oak beam that stretched across the ceiling, and slumped into a chair next to the ashes of an open fire. Tommy cuddled up to him on his lap. “Where are you going?”

Jenna looked back at him but didn’t answer as she left the room.

Liam sighed and leaned back in the seat, tracing the patterns along the thick red rugs standing like islands on the stone floor. “It’s going to be okay, buddy. We’ll be home very soon. I promise.”

Jenna stood in the doorway, her arms folded, her chin set.

“What’s up?”

“We can’t stay here.”

“What’s happened?” He shifted Tommy to one side and stood. “What is it?”

She glanced down at Tommy and licked her lips. “Odiesbay.”

Liam furrowed his brow for the second it took him to recognise the pig Latin. “How many?”

“Two.”

“Upstairs?”

She nodded.

“Laguepay?”

She made a grim smile.

“What’s upstairs, Daddy?” Tommy smiled up at him.

“It’s too cold up there. There are...there are no beds. We’ll have to stay down here.”

Jenna shook her head. “We should go.”

“We can stay down here. We’ll be fine. I’ll clean out this fire and get a fresh one going. We can pile up some of these rugs. I don’t mind sleeping on a chair. The important thing is we’ve got shelter. I don’t mind having a look around for sheets. Just tell me where not to go.”

“Okay.” She let out a sigh. “Second door on the right.” She swallowed and let out a quavering breath.

Liam placed an arm around her. “We’ll be okay. Keep Tommy company and I’ll sort it.”

She slumped onto the seat next to their son. “Thanks.”

54. Michael

Michael’s stomach lurched as Brandon turned the truck off the main road and followed the packed-stone road through a series of chain-link fences.

Rusted machinery stood next to a yellow bulldozer on a slope of shattered rock.

“What is this place?” Michael asked.

“Quarry,” Dawn said.

With a deep crease pressing on his brow, Michael could only watch as Brandon parked up on loose gravel.

Doctors led the men and women to the edge of a pool, the dark water shimmering against the late-afternoon sun.

“Are they checking them?” Michael asked.

Dawn raised a finger to her lips. “Shh. The Director is about to speak.”

Michael stiffened as the Director barked orders through a megaphone.

The residents dropped to their knees.

The Director raised a hand and said something Michael couldn’t make out.

Gunfire echoed around the quarry.

The residents’ bodies tumbled into the pit.

Michael gripped the armrest.

“You going to be okay?” Dawn asked.

He stared at the water, unable to tear his gaze away. “Yeah.”

55. Liam

An idling car engine roused Liam from his sleep. He rubbed his eyes and picked the gum from his lashes.

Jenna slept on a rug before the fire’s pink embers, Tommy cradled in her arms.

He patted her shoulder. “Jenna. Wake up.”

She nudged him away and murmured something under her breath.

He shook her, squeezing her arm. “Wake up.”

He shot to his feet at the sound of a car door slamming, and scanned the room for his backpack and shotgun, freezing as the door flew open.

“Take a seat, take a seat,” a bulky blond man said. A deep ridge creased the centre of his forehead as he lumbered through the door.

“What do you want?”

The blond man dipped his head and looked around the room. A taller, thinner man ducked through the door after him, his features gaunt and pale, his flesh taut around a skeletal face.

“What do you want?” Liam repeated.

The blond man met Liam’s gaze with powder blue eyes, and grinned. “We’ve come to have a look around. Take a seat, or my friend here will do you.”

“You can’t just come barging in here.” Jenna pulled Tommy close to her.

“What are you going to do? Have you seen my friend’s shiny pistol? He tells me it was his grandfather’s. He used it in the war to shoot up some Nazis. Not sure if it still works. But we can find out if you’d like? What do you say?”

The dark-haired man nodded towards Liam’s rucksack. His gaze shifted towards the shotgun and rifle leaning in the corner.

“I see you have packs,” the blond man said, rubbing his stubbly chin. “This isn’t your place, is it?”

Liam raised his hands, shaking his head. “We don’t want any trouble. We’re just passing through. Needed somewhere for the night. Just let us go. You can do what you want with this house. Take what you want. We don’t care.”

“How very kind of you to give us permission.”

“So can we go?” Jenna asked.

The men exchanged glances and nodded.

“No funny business though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, mate,” Liam said. “Just want to get home. Needed shelter overnight. That’s all. I’ll leave you to it.” He turned to Jenna. “Grab your stuff, we’re going.”

Jenna nodded, remaining silent.

Liam pulled on his jacket and rucksack and frowned at the rifle and shotgun.

“They yours?” the blond man asked.

Liam nodded.

“Correction, they were yours. You can leave those there.”

Liam hesitated.

“Don’t try anything stupid. What’s that sticking out the top of your bag?”

“It was my dad’s.” Liam took a step backwards. “It was his cricket bat.”

“Take it out.”

Liam shook his head. “You can have the guns. This is sentimental, you know?”

The men exchanged glances again and the taller man raised an eyebrow.

“Does this look like a negotiation?” The blond man gestured towards Liam. “Get it out.”

“Fine.” Liam reached into his rucksack and dragged the cricket bat out by the handle. He turned it in his hands, testing its weight.

He sighed and shook his head. “Please.”

“Shall we let him keep it?”

The taller man shrugged.

Liam slipped the bat back into his bag and gestured for Jenna and Tommy to leave. He stared longingly at the shotgun for a few moments, turned and closed the door behind them, rushing towards his bike. “Come on.”

“What are we going to do?” Jenna asked as she helped strap Tommy into his seat.

“We’re going home.”

“What about the guns?”

“We need to get as far away from here as possible.”

He mounted the bike as Jenna approached hers. Instead of stopping, she carried on past, making her way towards the silver Vauxhall Astra parked next to one of the garages.

“What are you doing?” Liam asked, glancing over his shoulder towards the house.

Jenna crouched next to the back wheel and unscrewed the dust cap.

Air hissed from the tyre.

“Leave it.”

Wordlessly, she moved on to the next tyre and did the same. Brushing down her knees, she got to her feet and jogged back to her bike.

Liam glanced at the car and licked his lips. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“No.” Jenna pointed to the house. “They shouldn’t have messed with our family.”

56. Michael

Michael found himself unable to move as the Doctors shoved another group of bodies into the water—men, women, children.

Some sank without a trace, others floated on inflated clothes before descending under a cluster of bubbles. Were they infected? An inconvenience?

The Director, still gripping her megaphone, marched towards Michael and gestured for him to step down from the truck.

Half-dazed, he opened the door and dropped down to the gravel.

“Thank you for letting me know about the bridges. You’ll be glad to know they’re secured and our team’s putting up fences as we speak.”

“That’s good.” His words came out hoarse, as if trapped deep in his throat. He gestured to the lake. “Were those people sick?”

“Possibly.” She shrugged one shoulder. “They were in our way.”

Michael couldn’t move, couldn’t respond.

“What do you think about what you have seen?”

He could just make out the whites of her eyes through the bird mask and tried his best to hold his nerve. “I presume all this is for the greater good. We need to stop the spread.”

“Exactly.” She raised a finger. “Tell me, Michael. What did you do before the end times?”

“I was police.”

She tilted her head. “Really? As things settle down here, I’m sure we can find a use for your skills.”

“Yeah.” Michael took in a breath. “Whatever I can do to help.”

57. Liam

Tommy bumped behind him as Liam turned off the road and through an entrance gate. The car park lay empty. A squat brick building stood ahead.

“Daddy, can we look at the animals?”

“Not today, buddy.”

“But I want to see the lemurs.” Tommy pointed towards the animal cages.

“I just want to see if there’s any food in the café. We’re not staying long.”

Jenna pulled her bike against the wall and unclipped Tommy from his seat.

“My legs hurt, Mummy, and my bottom hurts too.”

“We should get home today. You’ve been such a big, brave boy.”

“Can I play with my Lego when I get home?”

“Of course you can.” She crouched to one knee and kissed his forehead.

“I think the parrots are hungry, Mummy. Can we please feed them? Please?”

“Not now.” Liam tried the door. He rattled the handle for a few seconds, stood back, and rubbed his chin. “I can’t believe they took our guns.” He shook his head. “I’m scared that if I ever see those fuckers again, I’ll do to them what I did to those lads.”

“Not in front of Tommy.” Jenna folded her arms.

“Right.” Liam reached down and heaved up a head-sized stone, slinging it full-force through the window. Glass shattered around him. Parrots squawked in their cages.

Taking his cricket bat, he brushed along the window frame, letting the glass fall to the ground. “Watch your feet.” He vaulted the window frame and reached out to lift Tommy inside.

Jenna climbed in behind him, glass crunching beneath her feet, and they wandered through the gift shop, passing shelves crammed with toy animals, mugs, and teddies. “I think the café is this way.”

The autumn sun filtered through the windows as gloomy shadows gathered all around them. Liam passed through a set of double-doors, his nose wrinkling at a hint of animal faeces and rotting food. He glanced across the tables and over to the counter. “There’s some crisps on there, and some Jaffa Cakes. They’ve even got some of those pointless little Pringles tubes.”

“I hate them,” Jenna said. “You only get about five.”

“Look.” He gestured to a glass-fronted fridge. He strode over to it as Jenna filled her bag with crisps and snacks. He opened the door and took out the bottles of water, stuffing them into his backpack. He reached down for a bottle of Lucozade, its contents almost glowing in an unnatural orange, and stopped when he heard soft padding footsteps. “Did you hear that?”

Jenna frowned. “Hear what?”

Raising his hand, Liam gestured for silence, tilting his head, and listening. “There it is again.”

“It’s not those men, is it?” Jenna inclined her head. “Or plague doctors?”

Liam froze and waited, trying to tune his ears to the sound. He started as something scratched on the door. “They’re behind there.” He held his breath, grip tightening around the cricket bat’s handle.

The scratch came again.

“I think it’s a dog.” Jenna grabbed Tommy’s hand. “What do we do?”

Liam edged towards the door and listened. Soft breathing came through the crack. He flung the door open and a white-furred snow leopard gazed back at him. They stared at each other, motionless. The cat let out a scratchy roar, exposing its sharp teeth.

Lunging forward, Liam swung down with the cricket bat, smashing the snow leopard’s head against the floor. He swung again. And again.

Tommy cried out and ran towards the snow leopard’s limp body, covering it, protecting it, fixing Liam’s gaze with a defiant, teary glare. “No, Daddy. No.”

Liam wiped sweat from his brow and offered Jenna a shrug. “Sorry about that, buddy. It was him or me.”

58. Michael

Brandon brought the truck to a stop along a row of terraced houses. “These should be empty.”

A crease set over Michael’s brow. “I don’t understand.”

“Claim one. Mark the door with a cross so we know it is yours.”

Michael nodded. “Right.”

“You get settled in. We’ll be back tomorrow.”

Michael nodded. “Thanks.” He climbed from the truck and cast his gaze along the doors. A blue one stood with a key hanging from the lock. He strode up to the step and knocked. The door inched open. “Hello?”

He stepped inside and pocketed the key as the door clicked shut behind him.

Stairs rose ahead of him. A sitting-room door stood to his left. He made out a kitchen sink through the door ahead.

He climbed the stairs and checked a pair of bedrooms.

Caked in sweat, he rolled the rubber suit from his arms and legs and tossed it onto the bed along with the mask. He let out a relieved sigh.

Bleary-eyed, he made his way into the bathroom and washed his body. He dried himself off and got dressed into a T-shirt, fresh pair of jeans and sweater.

Exhausted, he flopped onto the nearest bed and closed his eyes. He’d seen too much for one day.

59. Liam

“Finally.” Jenna called back to Liam, gesturing across Morecambe Bay. “It’s so good to see the sea.”

Liam gazed across the glistening sands, the speckled greys and whites of the Lake District fells catching the sun beyond. “But the tide’s out. I wouldn’t exactly call it the sea.”

She turned to him, a relieved smile passing across her face. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, it’s good to be back.” He offered Tommy a smile. His son scowled at him, folded his arms, and turned away. “You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

Tommy scrunched up his nose. “I’m cross. You need to sit on the naughty step.”

“We’re nearly home. Aren’t you excited? You’ll be able to see your room.”

“Why did you make the snow leopard dead, Daddy?”

Liam shook his head. “You’re not still going on about that, are you?”

“It wasn’t very nice, Daddy. You were naughty. That cat’s mummy will be very sad. It’s like Grandma.”

Liam’s fists clenched around the handlebars as he took in a sharp breath through his nose. “You think I wanted to do that?”

“You hit it, Daddy. You hit it and now it’s dead. You made it die. I don’t like it when you make things die.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re four, so you’d be best keeping your mouth shut. Do you know why I killed that thing? Do you?” He glared at Tommy over his shoulder.

Tommy shook his head.

Liam faced the road and sighed. “I did it to protect you. And I did it to protect your mummy. What do you think would have happened if it had bitten you or scratched you?”

“You made it die.”

“I stopped it from making you die. I stopped it from making your mummy die.”

“But you made it die.”

“I protected you. I protected your mummy. Do you not understand? I didn’t set out to kill anyone. Those lads had it coming to them.”

“What lads, Daddy. Like boys?”

A crease formed along Liam’s brow. “What do you mean?”

“Did you make lads die too?”

“Where’s this coming from?”

“I don’t like it when you make people die.”

Liam sighed as Jenna pulled from the coastal road and onto the promenade, the sea wall at their right. “We were talking about cats. I’m telling you now that you need to stop going on about it, because I’m going to get very cross.”

“I’m very cross, Daddy. I liked that snow leopard. He could have been our friend.”

Liam turned onto the promenade and brought his bike to a stop, leaning the handlebars against the fence overlooking the beach. He unclipped Tommy from his seat, stood him up on the concrete, and crouched before him. “You need to shut up about this.”

Tommy flinched at Liam’s wagging finger, his lip wobbling. “But—”

“But nothing, Tommy. We’re nearly home. We don’t know what it’ll be like when we get there.”

Tommy turned away, his body quivering with sobs.

“Look at me. You need to stop whingeing and complaining. I’m sick of your tone of voice. I’m sick of you going on about that fucking snow leopard. You need to understand that I’m in charge. You need to understand that things die. If things get in my way, if they put my family at risk, they are going to die. Do you understand?” He shook Tommy. “Answer me.”

Tommy staggered back.

“Do you understand?”

Tommy stood petrified, his eyes wide.

“Well?”

The boy nodded.

“Say it.”

“Will you make me die?”

“What? No. I love you, Tommy.”

“Just leave him,” Jenna said. “He’s done nothing wrong. He’s four.”

Liam wobbled to his feet and rubbed the back of his neck as Tommy ran to his mum, burying his head behind her knees.

Jenna shook her head. “You know this anger? You need to keep it in check. This alpha male, macho bullshit isn’t going to fly. You need to watch how you talk to him.”

“Look, I’m sorry.” Liam dipped his gaze. “We’re nearly home. I’m scared. Tommy was just getting to me. He kept going on about that snow leopard.”

Jenna lifted Tommy up onto a hip and nodded towards Liam’s bike. “I’ll ride that the rest of the way.”

“It’s fine. He was just getting on my nerves. I’m fried. It’s been a mad...” He blinked. “I don’t even know what day it is.”

“Think about things from his perspective. There was the thing with his grandma. He saw his dad stove in the head of an endangered animal. It can’t be easy for a four-year-old to process. We’ve all had it hard, just cut him some slack.”

Liam sniffed and gazed across the bay. Dark clouds eddied behind the fells as the first tendrils of incoming tide flooded the sands. He swallowed.

“What?” Jenna asked, rubbing his back. “Talk to me.”

“Just what you said then. We’re all endangered now.”

“We’ll get past this. We’ll survive.” She squeezed his arm. “We got this far.”

“Doesn’t excuse me for being a wanker, though, does it? We’ve all got shit to cope with.”

“You’re just dealing with stuff in your own way.” Jenna shrugged.

Liam rubbed Tommy’s head. “Sorry I shouted at you, buddy. We’re nearly home.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Tommy looked up from his mum’s arms, his eyes red with tears. “I didn’t like it when you shouted.”

“Neither do I.” Liam rubbed his beard. “You know how sometimes when you’re tired you get cross? I think that’s what’s happened to me. I think we all need to have a nice sleep in our own beds.” He tickled Tommy under the armpit. “What do you say?”

Tommy leaned away, giggling. “That tickles Daddy.”

“It tickles? You’re ticklish?” He ran his fingers along Tommy’s stomach, tickling below his ribs. “You going to stop crying now?”

“Okay, Daddy.” Tommy gazed up at him and smiled.

“Friends?” He lifted Tommy from Jenna’s hip and cuddled him. “You’re always going to be my buddy, aren’t you?”

Tommy laughed. “You’re silly, Daddy.”

60. Michael

Hammering thuds roused Michael from his sleep. He frowned at the unfamiliar room and got to his feet.

“Michael? You in there?”

He recognised Brandon’s voice.

Hesitating for a moment, he stood stock-still as the bangs came again. “Michael!”

He breathed out when the knocking stopped.

He sat on the bed and rested his elbows on his knees. What the hell was he doing in Anglesey? He replayed everything in his mind and could not work out how it came to this point. If only the police hadn’t thrown him to the kerb. If only that student hadn’t knocked at his door. If only he hadn’t pulled the trigger...

All he wanted to do was help.

But in that moment, he hated himself.

He’d let himself get sucked into something he didn’t quite understand. Were they terrorists? Cultists? Socialists? He slammed his fists down on the bed.

Whoever these people were, they were dangerous. But he could stop them. He could still help. He could gather intelligence, work up a profile. It would be like his early days doing undercover work.

Getting to his feet, he edged towards the window and looked outside. He squinted up at the morning sun and forced a smile at the sight of Brandon and Dawn gazing up at him. “For fuck’s sake.”

Opening the window, he leaned outside. “I must have overslept. Let me change.”

Brandon gestured to the truck. “Hurry up.”

Michael closed the window with a barrage of muttered curses.

He stripped and dragged on his rubber suit and gas mask, hating the way the previous day’s sweat clung to his skin.

With a long sigh, he plodded downstairs and out to the idling truck.

“Morning,” he said, forcing a genial tone.

“We really shouldn’t keep the Director waiting.”

“Sorry. Must have needed the sleep.”

Brandon nodded and pulled the truck away from the kerb.

61. Liam

Liam closed the front door behind them as he stepped into his home. “Thank God.”

He flicked the light switch.

Nothing.

“Smells a bit musty.” Jenna opened the sitting room curtains.

Liam locked the door and tested the handle, smiling as Tommy cheered from his bedroom. He ran out, clutching a toy stegosaurus, green and brown plastic with a long tail and an uncanny grin.

“Daddy, look.” He ran up to Liam, jumping up and down, waving the toy in front of him.

“That’s fantastic, buddy. We’re home.”

Liam poked his head into Tommy’s room, checking the bed and glancing over the toys strewn from the toy box in an explosion of colour.

The glaring autumn sun poured into the sitting room, sending slits of light through the vertical blinds as it passed through the bay window.

He watched Jenna from the doorway as she leaned into the pantry. “We’ve got some tins. Some pasta. Couple of Pot Noodles. These potatoes might be okay, but they’re starting to sprout.”

“It stinks in here.” He leaned down to the dead fridge and checked inside, a wave of acrid stench flowing out. He dragged out the salad tray as festering liquid sloshed around.

Holding the drawer at arm’s length, he poured the liquid into the sink and turned the tap.

Nothing.

With a wrinkled nose, he rubbed the back of his neck, and frowned at Jenna. “We’ve got no water, no power. We’re not prepared for this at all. What are we going to do about food? What are we going to do about heating? Water? This is insanity.”

Tommy tugged his leg.

“What’s up, buddy?”

“Daddy, can I play in the garden?”

Liam shrugged and glanced towards the back door. “What does Mum think?”

Jenna strode over to the back door and turned the key. “It’ll be fine. Just leave the door open. Could do with airing it in here anyway.”

Tommy jumped up and down and ran outside.

Liam watched Tommy and shook his head. “I used to take the piss out of preppers. I just thought they were paranoid nut-jobs.”

“How can you prepare for this?” Jenna held his hand. “Preppers are nutters. You can’t live your life with the fear that everything is going to dissolve around you.”

“But it did.”

“I’m sure they’re feeling very fucking vindicated in their bunkers with their canned water and radiation suits. Screw them. Thing is, they can stock-up all the tins and paraffin lamps they want, but nothing could have stopped this.”

Liam sighed and walked into the sitting room, flopping down onto a sofa. Jenna sat next to him and pushed a hip against Liam. He placed an arm around her.

She leaned forward, placing her head in her hands, heavy, shaking sobs bursting out.

Liam rubbed her back, pulling her head against his chest. “Hey. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.” She turned to him, her eyes flashing with tears, her nostrils flaring. “My mum is dead. Your mum is dead. Half the world’s fucking dead.” She pointed to the door. “I don’t even know where those bastards took my mum’s body. I don’t know if they buried her, if they’ve thrown her in some mass grave. I don’t know if they just left her to rot at the side of the road.”

Liam sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. It’s crazy, but we’re here. We’re together and that’s what’s important. Tommy’s been amazing. You’ve been amazing. We just need to focus on working out how to get through this.”

“You think things will ever get back to normal?” She wiped a sleeve across her nose, a string of snot stretching between her arm and nostrils.

“Of course it will. It will just take some time. This has happened before. We just need, I don’t know, to kill the rats or have a big fire, or something.” He shrugged. “It won’t happen overnight, but I think we’re going to be okay.”

Jenna sat up, tilting her head. “I can’t hear Tommy.”

Liam bolted to his feet, charged through the kitchen, and ran outside.

Tommy crouched in the garden, prodding something on the grass.

“What you doing, buddy?”

“It’s Charlie.”

Liam racked his brains for a moment, trying to work out what Tommy was talking about. “Mandy’s cat?”

“He died. Look.”

“Come away from it. There might be germs.” Liam ran over to Tommy and dragged him by the wrist back into the house. He glanced back at the tabby lying dead on the grass.

“What’s up?” Jenna asked.

“Mandy’s cat’s dead back there.” He gestured towards the garden. “Tommy was messing with it.”

Jenna nodded and attempted to smile at Tommy. “There should be some of that anti-bacterial hand stuff behind you.”

Liam turned and rifled through a cupboard. “Here.” He handed her a bottle of clear gel.

“Open your hands.” She squirted the gel onto Tommy’s upturned palms. “Good lad. Now rub them together.”

“It smells funny, Mummy.”

“I know.” She offered him a smile. “You go and play. See if you can make something really good with your Lego.”

Tommy nodded and skipped towards his room.

Jenna nodded towards the back door. “I’ll get rid of it.”

“Use a plastic bag. Just stick it in one of the bins.” Liam opened out a kitchen drawer and pulled out a torch and some batteries. He tested the light and set the torch on the worktop. He glanced up to see Jenna closing the back door.

She gave him a haunted look.

“What’s up?”

“That cat was still warm.”

62. Michael

Following Brandon and Dawn, Michael entered the medical centre’s double-doors to find the waiting area crowded with scores of Doctors—so much for social distancing.

The Director stood on the reception desk, her features obscured by her bird mask as she spoke through a megaphone. “The apocalypse has come. The great unveiling is finally here. In these end days, the future is ours. The revolution is here and we are its vanguard.”

Cheers filled the room.

“We will bring in the new era, one that is pure and blessed. We are the survivors. We will thrive!”

Tightness gripped Michael’s chest as the Doctors roared their approval.

He bit down on his bottom lip, pleased his face remained hidden behind his gas mask.

63. Liam

Liam sat on his son’s bed, pulling the sheets up over Tommy’s shoulders, squinting at his shadow in the darkness. “You get to sleep now, little buddy.”

“Are we going to die, Daddy?”

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. “One day. Everyone dies. Hopefully it won’t be for a long time.”

“Will you turn the light on? I’m scared, Daddy.”

“There’s no lights.” Liam leaned down and kissed Tommy on the forehead. “You try to sleep.”

Tommy curled into a ball, resting his head on the pillow. “When will the lights come back?”

“I’ve no idea. It could be tomorrow. It could be never. We’re going to work something out.”

“Okay, Daddy. Goodnight.”

“Night.” Liam got up and closed the door behind him. He glanced towards the sitting-room door, turning as something clattered in the kitchen. “You okay?”

Jenna held up a pair of candles. “I found a couple of these from last Christmas.”

“I figured I’d go see if Mandy’s in. I’m pretty sure I heard something earlier.”

“You going to tell her about the cat?”

Liam swallowed. “Not if I can avoid it. She might know what’s been going on.” Grabbing his coat, he made his way to the front door.

He ambled outside, took a left onto the street, and into the next driveway. He knocked at the door. “Hello?”

There was no response.

Liam tried again. “Mandy? You in?”

“Go away,” an elderly woman’s voice came from inside.

“It’s just me.”

“Go away.”

“It’s Liam from next door.”

The lock clicked on the door and a stooped woman with grey skin and watery eyes stared out from behind a chain-locked door. “Have those thugs gone?”

Liam gazed back over his shoulder. “I’ve not seen anyone. We got back today.”

“They keep coming round here on those trucks with masks. Ghastly things.”

“Just thought I’d check to see how you’re doing. Things have been pretty crazy, huh?”

“I saw what your boy did to Charlie. You should give him a good hiding.”

Liam shook his head. “What?”

“You should be ashamed of yourself. I saw what he did with that rock.” She went to close the door.

“Wait.” Liam shoved his foot between the door and the frame. “Did Tommy do something to the cat?”

The woman started to cry. “Your boy is a murderer.”

“There must be some kind of mix-up.”

“I saw it with my own eyes.”

“He’s four.”

“He took great delight in killing Charlie.”

“Right.” Liam sighed. “Tommy’s been through a lot. We travelled back from Leeds and he saw his grandma getting killed.”

Mandy glanced over her shoulder and forced a smile. “If you’ll excuse me. It’s hard enough keeping this place warm when the heating works.” She closed the door and Liam stood for a long moment.

Clearing his throat, he made his way back home, took off his jacket and slumped onto the sofa next to Jenna. A single candle flickered on the mantelpiece, hints of cinnamon and vanilla perfuming the air. “Well, that was interesting.”

“How was she?”

“She’s alive. She thinks Tommy killed that cat.”

“Well, obviously.”

Liam turned to her, a crease wrinkling his brow. “I just thought...I just thought it was dead.”

“Don’t be so naïve.”

He brushed his hair back, the grease slick against his fingers. “I can’t live like this. We need a plan. We need to get something sorted. How are we going to keep warm? How are we going to wash and cook?”

Jenna leaned forward, resting her head in her hands. “What do we need? We need food, right? We need water. We need to work out a way to keep this place warm. We’ve got some blankets in the attic and we’ll probably need to get some better clothes.”

Liam swallowed. “At least we’ve got shelter. This place is secure enough.”

Jenna let out a laugh. “Secure? It’s only secure until someone wants to get in.”

“This isn’t fucking Mad Max, Jenna. Don’t assume that because shit’s hit the fan that everyone is going to be out to get everyone else. People always look out for themselves, granted. But it’s not going to be like that. People are basically good.”

She smirked. “Like those lads in Manchester?”

“Don’t.” Liam clawed at his hair. “There’s always been little twats causing trouble. That’s got nothing to do with what’s happening now.”

Jenna lay down on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. “So, what’s the plan?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve got enough water for a day or two. We’ve still got some tins. There’s some stuff in the pantry. We should try and get some kind of barbecue.”

She turned over, staring at him. “You know how smoky that’ll be?”

“What do you suggest then? It’s not like we can use the cooker. Maybe we could look around the caravan sites, or something. They have the cookers hooked up to gas bottles.”

“That are built into the caravans.”

“Right.”

“We should have got that wood burner when I said. But, oh no, you wanted to keep the gas fire.”

“So, what? You’re right. That’s not going to help us. In the short-term, we need to think about this. As long as we get through winter, things will be good. We can plant stuff in the spring, really start getting stuff growing. I bet we could even find some chickens or animals or something. I don’t know.”

“Chickens? From where?”

“I’m just thinking out loud. We can get cockles and things from the bay. We could even learn to fish.” He got to his feet and paced across the carpet. “I can see it now. We could grow vegetables, rear animals, fish. It’ll work out.” He placed a hand on Jenna’s shoulder. “Trust me.”

“How are we going to learn this stuff? It’s not like we can check online.”

Liam shrugged. “We’ll go to the library.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow. We’ll go first thing.”

“And you think it’ll be open?”

“Probably not. But we’ll figure something.”

Jenna took in a breath. “We’ll still need to get things like water and food for now. We need something more than just these bottles.” She sniffed at her armpits. “I stink. You stink. We all need a shower.”

“We’ll sort it.”

“I hate it when you’ve got a beard. So itchy.”

He rubbed his chin. “I quite like the beard.”

“You’re not getting any if you have that.”

He grinned. “I’ll shave tomorrow.”

Jenna nudged him. Liam leaned down and kissed her, running a hand along her thigh. “I was thinking about that time—”

Tommy cried out from the next room.

Liam rushed to the door.

“Die, die, die. You’re dead now. Crash. Bang. Die.”

Liam leaned around Tommy’s door, squinting at him. “What are you doing, buddy? You should be in bed.”

“I want to make my dinosaurs die.”

64. Michael

Michael heated a pan of water over the gas hob and paced around the kitchen.

He peeled the lid off his last Pot Noodle and wrinkled his nose at its contents. At least he didn’t have to eat this thing cold.

Checking the cupboards, he picked up a bottle of vodka and sniffed inside.

He started when a knock came at his door.

Holding his breath, he hid behind the kitchen door.

“Michael? It’s Brandon.”

Michael’s fists tightened.

“Michael? You in? We’ve brought supplies.”

Michael glanced at the Pot Noodle and pulled on his gas mask. “Hang on.”

He ambled to the door and turned the latch.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just got a pan on.”

Brandon gestured down to a large water bottle. “We’ve brought you a couple of these. There’s more for you in the truck.”

“Right. I’ll just take the pan off the hob.” He turned back into the house.

Brandon’s foot blocked the door from closing. “I’ll bring this in myself, then.”

“Sure.” Tension gripped Michael’s chest as he led Brandon into the kitchen. He waved towards the worktop. “Just set it on there.”

“Pot Noodle, eh?”

Michael shrugged a shoulder. “What can I say?”

Brandon hefted the bottle onto the worktop and signalled for Michael to follow.

Stepping out into the twilight, Michael found Dawn waiting for them at the truck’s rear.

“He was cooking a Pot Noodle,” Brandon said.

“Lucky we came when we did.” She handed Michael a crate. “You dodged a bullet there.”

Michael frowned at the weight. “What’s in here?”

“Tins, dried food, some fresh veg. Salt, sugar, essentials. Do you like ketchup?”

“Yeah. Who doesn’t?”

“You’d be surprised.” She placed a bottle of tomato sauce on the crate’s lid.

“Thanks.” He turned to go.

“Wait!”

He held the crate against his stomach and did not move.

“You’ll be wanting some of these.” She placed a twelve-pack of toilet rolls onto the crate. “Is there anything you need?”

Michael managed a shrug. “I think we’re all good, for now. Thanks.”

Dawn hopped down and closed the shutters. “We’ll see you tomorrow. The Director has some big plans.”

“Sounds good.”

65. Liam

The window shattered. Liam pulled back his cricket bat and poked his head into the gloom. “Looks clear.”

Jenna lifted Tommy up onto her hip and stepped over the glass.

Liam scanned the rows of bookshelves and computer monitors. “Smells like there’s been a fire.”

Jenna looked around and nodded. “Let’s just find the books we need and get out of here.”

Liam moved past the counter and stopped, Jenna halting to his right. He gaped at the pile of scorched books.

“Can’t believe someone would do that.”

“Fahrenheit 451.”

“What?”

“It’s a novel about book burning.” Liam pointed at the books with his cricket bat. “Bastards.”

“Right.” Jenna put Tommy down on the floor and held his hand. “Looks like the children’s books are still there.” She crossed the library to a pair of book boxes, their primary colours bright in the gloom. “Do you want to pick a book?”

“The Gruffalo,” Tommy said. “One about dinosaurs, or dragons.”

“You’ve already got the Gruffalo.” She crouched to one knee and flicked through the titles.

“I want a book where a big dragon eats everyone, where dragon eats people’s heads and people die.”

She shook her head. “How about something nicer?”

“No.” Tommy stomped his feet.

“It’s up to you, buddy.” Liam stepped over to Tommy. “You can pick a book now, or we leave without one.”

“But Mummy won’t let me get one.”

“That’s not true.” Jenna folded her arms.

“I don’t want a nice book. I want a horrible book. I want a book where people die.”

Liam exchanged glances with Jenna.

“I think we can get some better books than that.” Liam cleared his throat and kneeled next to Tommy. “Let’s look for something fun.” He slid a book from the box and put it back. “We could look for some stories about trains or dinosaurs.”

Tommy jumped up and down and smiled. “Yes, yes! People can die on the train. The train could go crash and the people could die and then the dinosaur could eat them all up with his mouth.”

“I don’t think you’re going to find a book like that. People like books about good things.”

“I liked it when Charlie died. I did it and it was good.”

Jenna shook Tommy by the wrist. “No, it wasn’t. You shouldn’t have done that. That was really naughty. That was really bad.”

Tommy stared at her for a long moment with a blank expression.

“You’ve made me and your daddy very sad. What have you got to say for yourself?”

Tommy looked at his feet. “Nothing.”

“You could say sorry.”

“No.”

She turned to Liam. “Say something, then.”

He raised his hands. “What’s to say? He knows it’s bad.”

She turned back to Tommy. “See. Even your daddy thinks it’s bad.”

Tommy stared at her and shook his head.

She grabbed his wrist. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Liam frowned. “I thought we were picking him a book?”

“We were.” She jerked Tommy towards her. “And now we’re not.”

“Fine.” Liam led the way from the library, stopping every few steps to listen.

Jenna dragged Tommy behind her. They walked out behind the Arndale Centre and took a right, heading along the road past car parks and buildings. After a few minutes, they reached the train station. Liam checked through the windows and tried the doors to find them locked. “You okay?”

“I’m just worried about this one.” Jenna nodded towards Tommy.

Liam forced a smile. “You’ll get past it. I guess everything’s been a bit traumatic. People react to things in different ways. You’ve got to remember he’s only four.”

Jenna gave an almost imperceptible nod and they carried on along the road until they reached a retail park. They wandered across the car park towards the Morrison’s supermarket.

Liam glanced back over a shoulder, smiling. “I don’t want to speak too soon, but this place looks open.”

“Be ready. I’m not sure about this.”

“It’ll be fine.” Liam patted his cricket bat. “If anyone gives me any shit.”

Jenna cleared her throat and nodded towards Tommy.

“Right.” Liam rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

The door was already open when they reached the entrance. The stench of rotten fruit and fish filled the air. The emergency lights flickered. Liam raised a finger to his lips when Jenna went to talk and listened. “I think we’re okay.”

“Looks like people have been helping themselves.”

Liam held his nose as he walked past the vegetable section. “Those potatoes look alright.”

“Looks like they’re sprouting.”

“Maybe we can plant them?” Liam picked up a potato by a root and held it up, watching as it twisted back and forth.

Jenna shrugged. “When? What time of year are you meant to do that? I don’t know. We shouldn’t waste our time until we do.”

“I guess.” Liam tossed the potato back onto the pile. “What do we need?”

“Water. Some tins. Should maybe get some vitamin tablets, some paracetamols, maybe some first-aid stuff.”

“Good idea.” They turned to an aisle stacked with tins of beans, soup, and spaghetti. Liam stood still, adjusting the shoulder straps on his rucksack as Jenna piled in tins. “Be careful. This thing’s getting heavy.”

Reaching the medicine aisle, Jenna grabbed boxes of paracetamol, plastic jars filled with vitamin tablets, boxes of plasters and bandages, and stuffed a few packets of sanitary towels into the backpack’s side pocket.

“Is that everything?”

Jenna shrugged. “Orange juice.”

Tommy patted Liam’s leg. “Can I have a comic?”

Liam strode over to the shelves and grabbed a pile of cellophane-wrapped comics. “We’ve got PAW Patrol, Peppa Pig, Octonauts.”

“I want dinosaurs and monsters.”

“They’ve got a dinosaur one.” He examined the cover. “This will have to do for now.”

They passed between the dead tills and headed towards the door. A broad man wearing a white, sweat-stained shirt and black trousers blocked the exit. “I can’t let you steal that.”

“Mate, seriously, the tills are off.” Liam gestured behind him.

“You’re a shoplifter.” The man’s eyes glinted beneath his peaked cap. “You’ll have to come with me until the police arrive.”

Liam smirked. “I don’t think the police are going to come any time soon.” He went to shoulder his way past.

The guard aimed his Taser at Liam with trembling hands. “Please don’t make me use this. You need to go through there, and wait in my office until the police arrive.”

Liam lunged forward, swinging his cricket bat. “Fuck you.”

A sharp stinging jolt spread across Liam’s body, his nerves jolting  as he stared up at the ceiling, fingers twitching. He could just make out Jenna’s muffled voice.

66. Michael

Michael fastened his rain mac and checked his pistol before stepping outside, clutching the bottle of vodka under one arm.

He took a swig, locked the door behind him, and followed the road aimlessly.

Tina haunted him. Why had he shot her? What the fuck was he thinking? What if she died? What if she lived?

After a while, he found himself traipsing along a beach. A rusted tractor stood without wheels on the sand.

With a heavy sigh, he tore off his gas mask and stared out across the waves, his vision fogging with tears.

He wiped his eyes and took a long swig from the bottle, the vodka burning his throat as it went down.

Had he killed her? Would she find his note? How the fuck would he explain any of this?

He wanted nothing to do with whatever that Director woman had planned.

He needed to leave the island.

But he’d seen what happens to those who got in the Doctors’ way—though, falling headlong into black water didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world.

He pictured the Samaritans’ phone on the Menai Bridge. Perhaps ending it all was the only sensible path.

“Fuck this shit.” He sniffed the vodka and knocked back another swig.

67. Liam

Liam rubbed the back of his head as he sat on the battered leather sofa, staring across the desk at the security guard’s pudgy face.

“This is completely ridiculous,” Jenna said as Tommy bounced on her knees. “You can’t keep us like this.”

The security guard fingered his Taser and picked up the phone again, pressing the receiver button before returning it to the cradle. “I’m unable to get a dial tone at the moment. I’ll try again shortly.” He leaned back in his chair.

Jenna got to her feet and the guard picked up the Taser again. “Please. Don’t make me use this. You’ve already seen what it did to your boyfriend.”

“My husband. And I’ve no idea what a supermarket’s doing handing out Tasers to some wannabe copper.”

The guard squirmed in his seat.

Liam leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees. “You’re not getting a dial tone because the phones are dead. The police aren’t going to come.”

The guard stood and puffed out his chest, placing his peaked cap back on his head. “Do you see what this badge says?”

Liam shook his head. “I’m having a little trouble focusing at the moment. Might have something to do with being electrocuted and smacking my head on the floor.”

“Perhaps your girlfriend can read it.”

“Wife.” Jenna squinted at the badge. “And it says ‘Morrison’s.’”

“Below that. It says ‘security’. That means I’m the law around here. And it’s my job to keep this place secure.”

Liam let out an exasperated sigh. “Mate, seriously, this is getting stupid now.”

The guard moved around the desk. He gripped the Taser and gestured towards Liam.

“Will you please put that thing down,” Jenna said. “My boy is four. And if that thing goes off anywhere near him, I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Tommy bounced on her knees and turned to her with a smile. “Will you make him die, Mummy?”

Jenna gritted her teeth, eyes narrowing at the guard.

Liam rose to his feet. “Come on, let’s go.”

The guard blocked the door, his Taser aimed at Liam. “I can’t let you leave. I need to call the police. That’s the procedure.”

“The police aren’t coming. There’s no way to get in touch with them. You don’t even know if they’re still around.”

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.” The security guard raised his chin and adjusted his clip-on tie. “It’s the policy.”

Liam sank onto the sofa and turned to Jenna. “You give a guy a badge and suddenly he thinks policy is more important than doing the right thing.”

“That’s rich coming from a shoplifter.”

“How could we have paid?”

The guard cleared his throat. “Did you or did you not try to take goods from the store without paying for them prior to you exiting the premises?”

Liam rolled his eyes. “If there was someone at the tills...” He shrugged. “I’ve probably got some cash if you need me to pay.” He reached into his jacket pockets.

“I’ve not been trained to use the tills, I’m afraid. It is our policy to prosecute shoplifters and to pursue damages to the full extent of the law.”

Liam smirked. “This guy’s completely lost it.”

The guard waved his hands and unlocked the door.

“Where are you going?” Liam bolted to his feet.

“I’m going to get the police.” He closed the door, locking it behind him.

Cupping his ear against the door, Liam listened as the security guard’s footfalls retreated. “Shit.”

“Now what?”

Liam glanced around the windowless room. “We get out.”

“How?”

He grabbed the handle and shook it violently, shoving his shoulder against the door. He leaned back and struck out at the lock with his heel, staggering backwards with the force.

The door stood firm.

“Can’t you pick the lock, or something?”

Liam glared at her. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“With a lockpick?” She moved around the desk and opened the top drawer.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for something to pick the lock with. There’s bound to be something in here.”

“Good luck with that.” Sighing, he slumped onto the sofa, dropping his head into his hands.

“Maybe this will work.”

Jenna waved a bunch of keys. She marched over to the door and tried them. With the third key, the door clicked and Jenna stepped through. “Shall we?”

“Where’s our stuff?”

“I don’t know. Probably where we left it.”

“Where’s that?”

“By the exit.”

Jenna led the way through a set of double-doors. Rows of tills stretched out ahead of them. Reaching the entrance foyer, Liam picked up his cricket bat and rucksack. “Where’s that fat fuck?”

Jenna shrugged and lifted Tommy onto her hip. “Language.”

Liam ran straight out onto the car park, charging across the zebra crossing, avoiding bollards, Jenna and Tommy close behind him.

“Hey!”

He glanced back over a shoulder the see the security guard taking aim with his Taser.

“Come on.” He tugged Jenna’s sleeve and kept running until they reached the road, tracing the way back past car parks and industrial units.

Bare trees stood sentry along the road, casting shadows across the asphalt.

Liam came to a halt, gasping for breath. “I’m not as fit as I used to be,” he said between breaths.

“I think we lost him.”

Resting his arm against a tree, Liam dipped his head, wiping his mouth as he regained his breath. He started when Jenna pulled his arm and shoved him to the ground. “What you doing?”

“Get down.”

He dropped to the bare earth, his clothes soaking through on sodden ground.

A pickup truck rumbled past them slowly. A pair of plague doctors leaned from the trailer brandishing rifles, their faces hidden behind garish masks.

Tommy froze, his eyes widening. Jenna dragged him to the dirt.

“I want one.” Tommy reached out, one hand opening and closing.

“Stay down, Tommy.”

“But, Daddy. I want a mask like the scary man. I want a mask and make people die.”

When the truck disappeared out of view, Liam got up and grabbed Jenna by the wrist, helping her to her feet. “They’re everywhere.”

“What the hell is going on?” Liam stared up the road and brushed the soil from his jeans.

“We can’t escape them.”

“They’re after people who are infected. They’ve let us go a couple of times.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, meeting her gaze. “We’ll be fine.”

Jenna shifted from him. “They killed my mother.”

“Your mother was already dying. She was infected. And we’re lucky we weren’t. Whoever these people are, whatever their plan is, they’re trying to stop the spread of whatever this plague is.”

“We can’t live like this.” She took in a sharp, quivering breath.

“It’s not going to be forever. Things have to improve. Let’s just get home. We can start working out how we’ll get through this.”

68. Michael

Michael rolled over and groaned at the thumping in his skull. His tongue was furry in his mouth, his neck and back muscles stiff.

He pulled his pillow over his head, covering his ears, but the banging grew louder.

Wobbling to his feet, he blinked at the morning sun pooling through the window.

Brandon’s truck stood idling.

“For fuck’s sake.” With a sigh, Michael rolled his neck and made his way downstairs.

He leaned on the hallway wall and opened the front door.

Wincing at the light, he shielded his eyes and frowned. “What do you want?”

Brandon eyed him up and down. “What happened to you?”

“I’m ill.”

“You’re ill?” Brandon took a step back and reached for his rifle.

“No. No.” Michael waved his hands. “Not like that.”

“What is it then?”

Michael shrugged. “Had a bit too much vodka. What can I say?”

“You’re hungover?”

“Yeah.”

Brandon gave a slight nod.

“So...” Michael gestured behind him. “If you don’t mind, I should probably sleep this thing off.”

“It’s not a good look.”

“Excuse me?”

“Doctors don’t drink. We don’t do drugs. The movement is about clearing away the old world. That includes all the old vices.”

“Right.”

“I will forgive you this once.”

“Well, I appreciate you being so charitable.”

“But it’s only because you were ignorant. There will be no excuses a second time.”

“I see.”

Brandon sighed. “It is very important that we keep our minds strong.”

Michael nodded. “Yeah. Won’t happen again.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t.”

69. Liam

Broom handles and a plastic bucket clattered against the garage’s concrete floor as Liam dragged out a fork and spade.

Jenna leaned inside. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just thinking we need to start digging up the garden.”

“For what?” She gave him a confused look.

Liam walked past her, carrying the spade and fork under his arm, closing the garage door behind him. “Well, if we’re going to make this work, we need to get the garden ready for planting.”

“And what are we going to plant, exactly?”

Liam strode across the patio and reached the grass, tossing the spade and fork on the ground. He turned back to her. “I don’t know.”

“We need to prioritise, Liam. We’ve got enough water for a few days, and then what?”

“I don’t know.” He grinned. “We should probably avoid Morrison’s from now on though.”

Jenna shook her head. “This is serious. It’s all well and good digging up the garden, but then what?”

“I don’t know. We’ll figure something.”

“Is not good enough. We can’t just keep hoping that we’ll figure something out. We need a plan. We need to think about this long-term. This isn’t something we’ll work out in the future. We need a plan now.”

Liam paced back and forth on the grass, picturing vegetable patches, measuring them out with his steps. “I was thinking about the water when you were inside.”

“Right.”

“Remember a few years back, I did that story about the bottled water?”

Jenna shook her head. “I’ve literally no idea what you’re on about.”

“Sure, you do. I did an FOI to the council and it ended up that they’d spent thousands on bottled water.”

Jenna gave a shrug. “Maybe. So?”

“So, we go to the town hall and get the water.”

She folded her arms and turned from him. “Right.”

“What?”

“So, you’re telling me that the council spent thousands of pounds on water and then just stored it in the town hall?”

“Maybe. It’s somewhere to start.”

“What makes you think they haven’t already distributed it? What makes you think it’s there and not gathering dust in a warehouse somewhere?”

“You don’t have to pooh-pooh everything before we’ve even tried. If they’ve got all that water though, surely it’s worth finding?”

Jenna waved her hands dismissively. “We need more. We need something better than that.”

Liam straightened up and glared at Jenna. “I’m just thinking out loud here. I don’t see you coming up with any ideas. It seems that every idea I have, you just knock it down.”

“Well maybe if—”

“Daddy, Mummy, I made a drawing.”

Tommy bounced in the doorway, waving a sheet of A4 paper.

Jenna walked over to him. “What is it?”

“I made a drawing.” He smiled up at her. “Do you like it?”

She took the sheet and turned to Liam. He strode over and took the picture. “You’re getting really good, Tommy. Is it a parrot?” He handed the paper back to Jenna.

Tommy’s gaze darted between Liam, the drawing, and back to Liam. He let out a laugh. “You’re silly, Daddy. It’s not a parrot.”

Liam tilted his head, squinting at the red zig-zagged lines and the sharp avian head. “Are these not feathers?”

“That’s blood.”

“And, this beak-looking thing?”

“It’s one of those bad men. I like their masks. They make people die.”

Jenna grabbed Liam’s arm, dragging him back towards the grass, the sheet of paper fluttering to the ground. She glanced over his shoulder. “We need to deal with this. I don’t know what we should do.”

Liam’s gaze shifted towards Tommy. “Maybe it’s a good thing. Those plague doctors are obviously scaring him. That stuff with your mum.” He shook his head. “No kid should have to deal with that shit.”

“It’s like something’s shifted in his head.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and offered Tommy a smile. “Best not worry about it. It’s just a drawing. I’m sure it’ll blow over.”

Jenna stepped backwards, eyes narrowing. “Oh, and what about the cat? What about all those things he’s been saying? This isn’t just a drawing. You need to talk to him.”

“We both do.”

“You’re right.” She held his hand and squeezed.

He released her grip and picked up the piece of paper, examining the drawing. He joined his son at the backdoor. “You’re not in trouble. Why do you keep—” His words cut off at the low moan of an air-raid siren.

70. Michael

Michael blinked up at the encroaching night and followed the path down to the beach.

He took a seat on the sand and stared out to sea.

Between sips of vodka, his mind drifted between Brandon’s warnings, Tina, escape, and ending it all.

If he’d have known the Doctors didn’t drink, he might have stayed at home.

He laughed bitterly to no one. He tossed a stone into the water and shook his head.

Knocking back the last dregs of vodka, he got up and hurled the bottle into the sea, watching as it bobbed beneath the waves.

He took a few tentative steps, but found he was still sober, or at least more sober than he would like. The vodka wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

In that moment, walking out into the sea was the most logical thing in the world.

He could drown himself. His body would wash out into the Irish Sea and perhaps get picked up by a current towards the Atlantic.

More likely, he’d wash up on a beach somewhere along the Welsh coast, his body bloated beyond recognition, food for whatever lingered beneath those waves.

He could check the other houses for booze. Perhaps he would stumble across a bottle of whiskey, or rum, or brandy, or gin stashed away in someone’s cupboard.

“Fuck.” His fists grew tight. This wasn’t the way. No. He had to stay sober, stay focused. He needed to get through whatever this was.

If he gathered enough intelligence, if he brought the Doctors down, the police would have no choice but to let him back.

He could do this. He had to do this. What else did he have?

71. Liam

“That thing’s been going off for an hour. We need to find out what it is.” Jenna paced over to the window and pulled aside the blinds to look through.

Liam shook his head and tapped his fingers on the sofa’s armrest. “What are you suggesting? That we follow the siren?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” She turned to him with pursed lips.

“And you call me reckless?”

She flopped on the sofa next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “What if it’s something serious?”

“I could ask you the same.”

She sat up and met his gaze with a glare. “Don’t be a dick, Liam.”

“A dick?” He shook his head, got to his feet and gazed from the window, pointing up at the light, grey sky. “I don’t hear any planes.” He turned to her and shrugged. “There are no bombs going off.” He stared through the blinds again, the glass cold against his nose. “I bet it’s just some old air-raid siren going off. It’s probably someone’s idea of a joke.”

“Maybe something bad is going to happen.”

They stood for a long moment, staring and listening. He turned as Tommy mimicked the siren from his bedroom.

Jenna tugged at her hair. “What is the point of an alarm if no one knows what it’s for?”

“Well, maybe is not for us.” He moved away from the window and sat on the sofa.

“Do you think you can sleep with that thing going off?”

“What’s to say it’s not going to go on all night?”

She ignored him. “It can’t be too far away. We should find out what it is and then decide what to do.”

He let out a long sigh and grabbed his jacket from the opposite sofa. “I’ll get the bikes.”

72. Michael

Michael ignored the banging door and dragged the sheets around his shoulders.

He hadn’t felt this numb, this deflated, since the police had suspended him without pay.

“Michael? You in there?”

He ignored Brandon’s calls and squeezed the pillow around his ears.

When Brandon arrived a few hours later, Michael stood in the kitchen, unable to move until the knocking ceased.

“Shit.” He held his eyes shut, trying to catch his breath. “This is ridiculous.”

Should he move to a different house, or join Brandon on whatever his latest mission was?

Or, perhaps, he should head back to Newcastle and find out for sure if Tina was alive.

He stayed in the house for the next few days, keeping to the shadows and avoiding Brandon’s arrival each morning.

He lost track of time, lost track of himself. What the fuck was he going to do?

73. Liam

Tommy sat strapped on the back of Liam’s bike as Jenna set off. His thighs twitched and ached as he pushed down on the pedals.

Jenna glanced back at him. “You got your bat?”

Liam nodded and patted his rucksack. “I figured we should probably just head to the prom and follow the sound. If this is an air raid thing, then you’d think it’ll be somewhere along the beach.”

“Good thinking.” She smiled back at him. “See, I don’t pooh-pooh all your ideas...just the dumb ones.”

They followed the road as it curled downhill to the right, passing semi-detached houses and bungalows.

They passed Regent Park. The swings stood empty, a plastic bag spiralled across the bowling green.

Suburban houses made way for grand Victorian terraces, battered by time and wind, their frontages cracked and broken. Gaudy signs dominated the ground floors as ornate flourishes climbed the brickwork.

The sea wall loomed ahead as the afternoon sun glared across the bay. “Tide’s in,” Jenna said.

“Say what you see, Jenna. Roy Walker will be out next.”

“Just an observation. You don’t have to be an arsehole.”

When they reached the promenade, they made a left, following flat concrete with the sea on their right, passing playgrounds, a café, and a toilet block. Jenna nodded towards a car park framed on one side by the sea. “The noise is coming from up that way.” She gestured along the coast towards Heysham.

“Maybe there’s something going on at the port?” Liam swept his gaze across the skies, picturing a series of German World War Two bombers roaring overhead.

Waist-high boulders lay huddled between the promenade and the beach. They skirted past the climbing wall, the concrete replaced by foam. Tommy kicked his legs excitedly when they passed the children’s playground. “Can we play, Daddy?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Sorry, buddy. Maybe another time.”

“I want to play.”

“We need to find out where that noise is coming from. Why don’t you try counting the wind turbines?”

Tommy made the same noise as the air-raid siren, matching its pitch.

“Stop that.”

“I’m being the alarm.”

“Well, it’s annoying.”

Jenna followed the gently sloped path up from the promenade as a cow watched them from behind a wire fence. They passed a boarded-up café nestled near the cliff’s edge, overlooking the sea.

Liam caught up to her, coming to a stop when they reached Heysham Village.

“Definitely louder here.”

Liam swallowed. “I bet it’s the power plant.”

She turned to him, eyebrows raised. “The power plant? The nuclear-fucking-power plant?”

“Language.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Makes sense though.”

“We need to go.” She turned her bike around.

“Don’t worry about it. They’ve got safeguards and stuff in place. There’s no way anything bad can happen.”

She let out an incredulous laugh. “What do you think that siren’s for then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there’s a problem. I don’t know. I did a story about this a few years ago after the thing in Japan. There’s no way anything like that can happen here.”

“How do you know that?”

“It was different. There was an earthquake.”

She pushed down on the pedals and cycled back the way they came.

“For crying out loud.” Liam turned and caught up with her. “Wait.”

“I’m not hanging around to find out if that thing’s going to blow up.”

“Don’t you think we should at least check?”

“No. And you’re not taking Tommy anywhere near the radiation.”

“There’s not going to be any radiation.”

“And I’m not going to take that risk.”

74. Liam

Jenna jerked her head up and gazed at the window, a deep frown etching her face against the candlelight. “I wish that siren would shut up.” Getting up, she stood at the window, staring through the vertical blinds into the night.

“Sit down.”

She turned back to him. “We can’t stay here.”

“That alarm’s got to stop sometime.”

“I’m serious. We can’t do it.”

Liam let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. “So, what? We just up and leave?”

She paced the room, wringing her wrists. “I’m not going to wait for the power station to have some kind of meltdown.”

“Speaking of meltdowns...”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare make light of this.”

He raised his hands. “I just think you’re overreacting. We’ve just got home.” He shrugged. “Granted, it’s not perfect. But I’m not going back to Leeds or Wolverhampton. We need to make the best of what we’ve got.”

“Leeds? Why the fuck would we want to go to Leeds?” She dropped down on the sofa next to him and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “Do you remember what that Frank guy said?”

“About what? Why are you bringing him up now?”

“I’ve replayed everything he said to us in my head a thousand times.”

Liam reached for her hand and she drew it away. “You did what you had to do.”

She cleared her throat. “What happened only happened because you stole his gun. And a lot of fucking use that did.”

Liam got to his feet. “I’m sorry. I don’t see what this has got to do with anything. If mistakes were made then mistakes were made. I seem to recall those weapons coming in useful. I seem to recall them being a part of the reason why we made it home, why we’re still alive.”

She let out a long sigh. “Frank said something about Anglesey being safe.”

“So?”

“So, that’s where we should go.”

“Based on what?”

“Based on getting as far away from that power station with Tommy as we can. Based on getting as far away from those plague doctors as we can.” She folded her arms. “We’re going. That’s the end of the discussion.”

“And what if I don’t want to? What if I think you’re overreacting?”

Jenna gave a half-shrug and swallowed. “You either come with us, or you stay here. I’m leaving first thing and Tommy is coming with me.”

“You’re pulling an ultimatum?”

“No. I’d like to think you’re with us. But I can’t stay here and I can’t leave Tommy.” She turned to him. “I don’t want to leave you either. But this is about survival.” She pointed to the window. “We can’t stay here.”

75. Michael

Michael froze in the sitting room when Brandon knocked again. He drifted towards the wall and held his breath.

“Open up, Michael. I know you’re in there.”

Michael closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

“This is your last warning. We need to know if you’re infected.”

Hands tightening, Michael could only breathe.

“Right. We’re coming in. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

“Fuck.” Michael cleared his throat. “I’m coming. Hold on.” He marched to the front door and opened it to find Brandon aiming a rifle at him.

Michael’s hands shot up. “Whoa!”

He lowered the barrel. “It’s not for you. It’s for the door. Where’ve you been, Michael?”

Michael shrugged. “I’ve been busy. Had a few things to sort.”

“No one’s seen you.”

“I’ve been doing a recce around the island. Can never be too sure.”

Brandon gave a slight nod and gestured behind him. “Well, you’re supposed to be with us.”

“Right.”

“You coming then?”

Michael swallowed. “Yeah. Lead the way.” He followed Brandon to the truck and climbed in next to Dawn.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Yeah. Just been busy.”

“Busy?” She shook her head. “You haven’t left the house in days.”

Brandon climbed into the cabin and stopped. “Get out.”

Michael frowned. “What?”

“Out!”

Michael backed away from the truck with raised hands. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“It’s not you.”

Dawn staggered from the truck as Brandon circled her. “What’s that on your neck?”

She reached up and shrugged.

“We need to check her.”

“No.” Dawn looked between Brandon and Michael. “I’m fine.”

“Now.”

She gave a nod and slipped from her jacket and shirt, revealing a dark red rash on her neck and the first hints of buboes around her armpits.

“Shit,” Michael said. “You’re bloody infected.”

“You know what to do,” Brandon said.

“Fuck.” His fingers twitched around his pistol and he met Brandon’s gaze. “You can do your own dirty work.”

Brandon shook his head and pulled the trigger.

Dawn fell in a crumpled heap to the ground.

“Get her in the back of the truck. We’ll take her to the quarry.”

With a deep breath, Michael nodded. “How are we doing this?”

Brandon opened the trailer’s shutters and hopped inside before returning with a roll of cellophane. “We wrap her in this and try not to touch her skin.”

Michael helped wrap Dawn in the cellophane and dragged her deadweight into the trailer.

He stared at Dawn’s body for a long moment.

“Michael?” Brandon flicked his fingers in front of Michael’s eyes. “Are we going to have a problem here?”

Michael shook his head. “No.”

Brandon rolled down the shutters. “You shouldn’t hesitate like that. If something needs to be done, it needs to be done.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Brandon inclined his head. “This is all dirty work, Michael. But it is necessary.”

Michael raised his pistol and pulled the trigger before Brandon had a chance to react.

He stood over Brandon’s body and let out a long sigh before kicking him in the side. “There’s your fucking dirty work, you prick.”

76. Liam

Liam rolled over onto his side and dragged the duvet around his bare shoulders. Grey sunlight spilled through the bedroom window.

He needed time to process everything that had happened—his mother’s death, Sandra’s death, Tommy, the world.

The grief over his mother pressed down on him, forcing the emptiness to open in the depths of his stomach. It was as though he was being buried alive by it all, that with each new challenge, another clump of soil landed on him. If he could only breathe, if he could only think, perhaps he could come to a solution.

With a groan, he sat up in bed and patted the cold patch on Jenna’s side. “Jenna?” Getting to his feet, he ran from the bedroom and into the hallway. He found her in the kitchen, filling a rucksack with food and clothes. “What are you doing?”

Jenna didn’t look up. “You know what I’m doing.”

“Can’t we eat first?”

She turned to him. “You should get dressed. Tommy’s going to have more nightmares if he sees that thing flopping around.”

Liam smirked and cupped himself. “Where is he?”

“In bed.”

Liam ambled to the bathroom and took a pee. He pulled on the flush, cursing when nothing happened. He wandered back to the bedroom and pulled on fresh underwear, his jeans from the day before, a couple of clean T-shirts, and a hoodie. He returned to the kitchen at the sound of Tommy stirring.

“So, have you made your mind up?”

Liam folded his arms, tilting his head. “Can’t say I’m happy about it. I could feel my legs yesterday when we were on those bikes. It’s going to be a long, hard ride.”

Jenna laughed. “I’m not talking about biking there.”

“We can’t exactly drive.”

“I was thinking we should take a boat.”

“Yeah, right.” Liam laughed.

Jenna got to her feet. “I’m serious.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“You know we don’t own a boat, don’t you?”

“We’ll find one.”

“Find one?” Liam smirked. “Have you ever driven a boat?”

“I used to be in sea cadets. I’ve told you this before.”

“That’s not an answer. Have you driven a boat?”

“Yes.” Jenna lifted the rucksack over her shoulder and marched past him into the sitting room.

Tommy’s door burst open and he staggered out.

“Morning, buddy.”

“I’m not talking to anyone today. I’m cross.”

“Yeah, well, I’m cross too. So, snap out of it.” Liam strode over to Tommy and lifted him by the armpits. “You listen to me. I know you’ve seen some not very nice things lately, but you’re a good boy. You need to stop all this crap about dying. Do you understand?”

Tommy squirmed, his body twisting in violent spasms, legs flailing. “Let me go.”

“Put him down, Liam.” Jenna rested an arm against the door.

Liam lowered Tommy to the ground and brushed his hands together, shaking his head.

Tommy charged forward, lunging headfirst into Liam’s groin. He crumpled to the ground, groaning. Tommy jumped on him, scratching his face.

Jenna dragged Tommy away, kicking, screaming in her arms.

Liam rolled over, gasping as sweat pooled along his back and tears stung his eyes. He rose to his feet, wincing. “Where is he?” He stomped into the sitting room and loomed over Tommy sitting cross-legged on the floor. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I was cross.”

Liam licked his lips and kneeled next to him, placing his arm around him. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this. I promise.”

“Mummy says we’re going on a boat.”

Liam got up and lifted Tommy next to him on the sofa. “Maybe.”

“There’s no maybe about it.” Jenna glared at him from the doorway. “We’re packed and we’re going now.”

77. Michael

The truck bounced along the quarry road as Michael’s breaths came thick and fast. What had he done? Had anyone seen?

The black pool came into view and he slowed the truck to a halt.

He got out and stared across the glittering water.

The faint hint of death lingered in the air, the dead barely visible beneath the pool’s surface.

A group of seagulls tore at something that might have been an arm.

His stomach twisted. Sweat gathered on his brow. He placed a hand to his mouth. What the fuck was he doing?

Steeling himself, he marched to the truck.

If anyone had seen him, he had the perfect excuse. It was just a case of getting rid of the bodies.

Rolling the shutters up, he dragged Brandon’s body from the trailer and along the shingle before dropping it into the pool.

As the bubbles faded, he retrieved Dawn and unfurled the cellophane, sending her body below the surface.

He stood and watched for a long time. Should he say a few words, offer a prayer, or something?

Fuck that. He was glad to see the back of them.

Now he could think about his next steps.

78. Liam

Liam locked his front door behind him, his rucksack on his back. His cricket bat’s handle poked from the top. He tested the door and shook his head at the siren’s wailing. “So, what’s the big plan?”

“Tide should be in. We’ll head to the stone jetty. See if there’s a boat.”

“That’s your plan?”

Jenna raised an eyebrow, daring Liam to challenge her.

“Fine. Lead the way.”

They made their way to the promenade, the early morning sun glistening across the waves.

Jenna strode past a series of moored boats, seemingly ignoring them.

“Where are you going?” Liam gestured down to the moored vessels. “We should try one of these.”

Jenna shook her head. “We’re taking that.” She pointed to an orange lifeboat bobbing to the jetty’s right.

“I don’t know.” Liam rubbed the back of his neck. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“This is an emergency. And I’ve been in one of those things before. It’s been a while, but I can drive it.”

“You can drive a lifeboat? Well, aren’t you a woman with hidden charms.”

Jenna shrugged. “Probably.”

They approached the lifeboat and climbed the ladder onto the deck. Liam studied the control panel and frowned. “You sure you know what you doing?”

Jenna studied the controls as she pulled on a bright orange life jacket. “I think so.”

“You think so?”

Jenna gave no response.

With a sigh, Liam searched around and pulled out a child’s life jacket for Tommy and one for himself.

The engine roared to life.

“You did it!”

Jenna focused ahead as the boat shuddered forward onto the open sea.

79. Michael

Michael came to a stop a mile or so past his house. He climbed down from the truck cabin and made his way around to the trailer.

Pulling up the shutters, he leaned inside. Crates and cardboard boxes stood in haphazard piles.

Finding them empty, he shifted them towards the truck’s front and took a lighter from his jacket.

He held the flame against a box’s corner until it started to burn.

As the fire spread, he dropped from the truck, closed the shutters, and made the slow walk back to his house.

80. Liam

Liam closed the cabin door, leaving Tommy inside, and stared into the night.

Jenna stood at the controls, steering the boat, the shore’s edge grey against the darkness. The boat dipped and rose along the waves as the smells of salt and oil hung heavy in the air. “We should probably get to land for the night.”

“I’m fine.” Jenna faced forward, watching the waves. “I could do this all the time. Gives you time to think. Really clears your head.” She leaned back as fine spray passed across the deck.

“Tommy’s asleep.” Liam leaned over the guardrail, resting his head on his forearms. “I’m shattered. You’re going to be tired too.” He glanced back as Jenna fingered the glowing navigation screen.

“I want to keep going. I think we can get there by late morning, early afternoon.”

“You think?” Liam raised his head.

“As long as the weather stays okay. There’s nothing coming through on the computer.”

“But the satnav still works?” Liam moved across the deck and cast his gaze across the screen and buttons.

“Satellites have still got power.”

Liam glanced up at the sky. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

Jenna went to speak, but something cracked in her voice.

Liam placed a hand on her shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“What is it?”

She turned to him, her eyes catching a sliver of moonlight. “I’m scared.”

“About what?”

She laughed bitterly. “About everything.”

“I said we should have stayed at home.”

“No. We need to press ahead.”

“What if, when we get there, you don’t find what you’re looking for?”

“Then we move on. We keep going until we’re safe. I don’t care where we end up. I just want us all to be safe.”

“But we were safe.” Liam met her gaze. “We had our home.”

“Can we not do this? You know why we can’t stay there.”

“It would have been fine.”

Jenna waved a hand. “It’s not just that.”

“Right.”

“I’m seriously concerned about Tommy. There was the thing with the cat and him jumping on you like that.”

“He’ll get past it.”

“I don’t like it that he is fascinated by those...those people. He wouldn’t shut up about them earlier.”

“I know.” Liam sighed and stared at the dark water. “Once we are on Anglesey, we’ll find somewhere to stay, and those plague doctors will be just a distant memory.”

“You don’t think he’s going to be permanently messed-up, do you?”

“No. I don’t know. I hope not.” Liam swallowed. “We just need to make sure he feels safe and loved, and things will be good.”

“What if—”

“What if, what?”

“I don’t know. Things...escalate?”

“Escalate?”

“As in, what if he moves up from cats? He’s already tried to hurt you.”

“He’s four. He just needs to know what’s right and wrong. Granted, I didn’t enjoy been nutted in the bollocks, but I don’t think he did it on purpose. Not really. I think he was just angry and he charged me. He’s just the perfect height to do maximum damage.” He winced. “I’ll smack him if he does anything like that again.”

Jenna turned her focus from the sea and glared at him. “We are not doing that.”

“All I’m saying is—”

“No. The kid is going to be troubled enough. He doesn’t need to think of his dad as someone who is going to smack him around.”

“Right.” He let out a sigh and moved away from the rail.

“You said it yourself. We need to show him love. My dad used to hit me, and I hated him for it. We don’t need to give Tommy any more ammunition. Things are already fucked up enough as they are.”

“That’s for sure.”

“I just hope he doesn’t end up as some kind of psycho.”

Liam walked over to Jenna. He took her hands and offered a smile. “We’ll be all right.” He kissed her. “I promise.”

81. Tina

Tina’s eyes fluttered open. She tried to focus, tried to think. Everything was hazy. Where was she? How long had she been here?

She flapped the duvet to one side and glanced down at an unfamiliar cotton nightie, plain white, its edges reminding her of one of her grandma’s doilies. Where did she buy this? Why was she wearing it?

Confused, she blinked again and rubbed her eyes. It smelled wrong. She sat up slowly. Something tugged at the skin above her left shoulder blade—a dull, aching rawness.

She reached behind her, groping inside the nightie. Her fingers brushed against stitches. Had she been shot?

A sharp bolt of pain rushed along her arm. What had happened to her? Where was she? Her head throbbed as she tried to recall what had happened, tried to remember how she got here. Where was here?

She frowned at the unfamiliar room—white sheets, beige curtains, magnolia walls. The curtains matched the duvet. A bedside table stood to her left. A full glass of water stood on its top.

Had she got herself the water? Had someone made it for her?

She took a tentative sip. Why was her mouth so dry?

Taking another drink, her arms were somehow foreign, almost as if she floated on water. She moved her hand in front of her face. Was she just tired?

Had she been drugged?

Her tongue was thick in her mouth when she tried to call out. “Hello?”

She shifted her legs over the side and slid from the bed, wiggling her toes on the laminate floor.

Dizziness washed over her.

She crawled back onto the bed.

“Hello? Is anyone here? Anyone?”

A deep, shuddering breath left her. She sipped the water. “Hello?”

Too weak to move, she allowed her head to sink into the pillow again and closed her eyes.

82. Liam

The Menai Bridge passed above them as Jenna followed the Anglesey coast.

After twenty minutes, she grounded the boat on the shore and gazed at the empty beach, the sea water lapping against the boat’s sides.

Liam pointed across the water. “How are we going to get across that?”

“The tide should be going out soon. We can walk the rest of the way.”

“And then what?”

Jenna shrugged. “And then we find a new home.”

83. Michael

Michael heaved an armful of clothes from the wardrobe and tossed them onto the bed. They were the type of garb an elderly aunt might wear at a christening—flowery blouses, high-waisted skirts, pink suit jackets with nipped-in waists and shoulder pads.

He carried the clothes outside and dropped them into the back garden, adding them to the previous owner’s junk.

He stood over the old photographs, the costume jewellery and paintings of Jack Russell Terriers—this was someone’s life. And he planned to burn it all.

Shaking his head, he went back inside.

He stopped and smiled at a set of car keys hanging from a hook near the back door. Taking them down, he examined them—they were from a Volkswagen, maybe a Golf, more likely a Polo.

He placed them on the worktop and returned to the room he’d claimed as his bedroom.

Perched on the bed, he rolled on his rubber suit, bringing it past his knees and up his thighs. He used to love wearing this stuff, but now it just seemed sweaty and it stunk.

There came a knock at the door. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, wrangling the suit up his arms.

The door knocked again, this time louder, more insistent.

“Hang on! For fuck’s sake.” He pulled on his boots and stumbled to his feet, snatching his gas mask from the bedside table. He made his way down the stairs as the door knocked again. “Alright, alright. Jesus.”

He opened the door to be greeted by a pair of Doctors. The man wore a black balaclava. “Is it Michael?”

He looked between them. “Who’s asking?”

“The Director wants to see you.”

“Right. Let me just—” A pair of hands gripped his shoulders.

“Now.”

84. Liam

Liam tipped his rucksack’s contents onto the deck. He scrambled to stop a can of beans from rolling away, standing it upright. “Most of this stuff is crap.” He looked up at Jenna and frowned. “We’ve got a couple of tins of beans, and then the rest of this stuff is just empty carbs.” He tossed packets of crisps and biscuits aside and shook his head. “We need something better than this.”

Jenna snatched a bag of Quavers and opened them. “I’m sure we’ll find something.” She dipped her hand into the bag, grabbing a handful of crisps and popping them into her mouth.

Liam gazed across the shore as waves brushed against the sand and stones, their surface reflecting the sky’s washed-out greyness. Hints of fish and seaweed caught the breeze, mingling with the faint scent of diesel and stale sweat. Reaching down, he stuffed the crisp packets, cereal bars, and tins back into his rucksack, dragging it along the deck and setting it against the cabin.

He shifted his gaze to land. Was there somewhere nearby he could find some real food? Thick beef burgers, chips, and onion rings, served with a pint of IPA would hit the spot. “You should stay here with Tommy. I’m going to take a look around, see what I can find.”

“You’re not leaving us.” Jenna folded her arms and glared at him.

Sighing, Liam got to his feet and shook his head. “We don’t know if it’s safe. We’ve got enough food for today, maybe. I’ll have a look around and then come back. It’s going to be a right faff if we have to think about Tommy as well.”

Jenna held his gaze for several seconds, her jaw tightening. “We’re coming with you. Whatever happens, we need to stick together.”

“I—”

“No, Liam. What if we lose each other? You can’t just send me a text or call me. We’re sticking together.”

Liam raised his hands. “Alright. Have it your way.”

Jenna eyed him up and down as seagulls circled in the sky above them, their calls like taunts. “I’m not going to argue with you.” She turned her attention to the sea. “We need to stick together and keep each other safe.”

“You’ll be safe on here.” Liam patted the cabin’s roof.

“And what if you’re away and you don’t get back? What if people come and it’s just me and Tommy?”

“I already said ‘alright.’ For fuck’s sake.” The sides of his mouth twitched.

The cabin door creaked open and Tommy peeped his head around, staring up at them with big brown eyes, his dark curls a tangle of knots. “Mummy, I’m hungry. My tummy keeps making sounds.”

Jenna glanced down at her half-empty packet of Quavers and handed it to Tommy. “You finish these.” She tussled his hair.

Liam could tell her smile was forced.

“Yay! Crisps.” Tommy danced excitedly, drove his hands into the packet and stuffed them into his mouth, crumbs cascading down his chest and onto the deck.

“Try not to get them everywhere,” Liam said. “You’re getting more on the floor than your mouth.”

Jenna cleared her throat. “It’s a deck.”

“What?”

“You said ‘floor’. It’s a deck on a boat.”

Liam stood straight to attention, clicking his heels together. “Aye aye, Captain Birdseye. Duly noted, sir. Now ye get ye rigging up on the forecastle and jib before I sends ye to Davy Jones’s locker.”

Jenna gave his shoulder a playful shove. “Do I look like Captain Birdseye to you?”

“You’re on a boat with a kid.” He shrugged. “If the cap fits.”

She nudged his shoulder again and shook her head. “You’re the worst sometimes.” Turning, she kneeled in front of Tommy and kissed him, running her fingers across his hair to untangle the knots. “We’re going for a walk today, so you need to promise me that you’ll be a good boy and stay close. Do you understand?”

Tommy gave an absent nod, his eyes fixed on digging through the crisp packet.

“Tommy,” Jenna snapped. “Did you hear what I just said?”

He started and gazed up at her with wide eyes.

“Did you hear what your mummy said?”

Tommy shifted his gaze to the deck and shuddered. “No.”

“You need to listen.” Liam tugged at his beard. “This is really important.”

“Daddy is right.” Jenna got to her feet. “I need you to hold my hand all the time. Do you understand?”

“I will hold your hand.” He tipped the final crumbs from the packet into his mouth and stared over the boat’s side. “Are we going to walk on the sea, Mummy?”

Liam shifted his weight and gazed over to the shore. “I’ll carry you, buddy. The sea’s not very deep here. Luckily, the tide’s out.”

“Finished.” Tommy threw his empty packet into the sea and leaned over the side to watch.

Liam shook his head as the packet spiralled downwards, landing on the surface, bobbing with the sea’s slow undulations. “Don’t just throw stuff. What if a fish gets caught up in that?”

Tommy gazed into the water for a few seconds then looked back up at his dad. “Will it die?”

“Yes.” Liam pulled him away from the side. “That’s not very nice, is it?”

Tommy watched the water again, a smile creeping across his face. “Can I have another packet, Daddy?”

“Of crisps?”

Tommy nodded and moved towards the railing.

“You still hungry?”

“I want to make the fish die.”

Liam jerked Tommy away from the side and dropped down to one knee, turning his son to face him. “You need to stop thinking like that. It’s not right.”

Tommy averted his gaze. “But—”

“But, nothing.” He shook Tommy by the shoulders. “We need to be nice to each other—and that includes things like animals and fish.” He offered a grim smile to Jenna when she joined them.

“Daddy’s right.” She stroked Tommy’s hair. “We have to be nice and we have to look out for each other. We don’t want things to die. We want things to live and be happy. That’s why we’ve come here on the boat, so we can live and be happy. Do you understand?”

Tommy looked down at his feet, not responding.

“Well?” Liam shook Tommy’s shoulders again. He didn’t want to lose patience with his son, but this obsession needed to stop. It put his frustration with the constant loop of Peppa Pig and Paw Patrol into perspective. “Fucking answer the question, Tommy.”

Jenna clasped Liam’s hand. “Don’t.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

Liam rose to his feet and gazed out to the shore, hating himself for the way he was with his son. Maybe it was necessary—perhaps the kid needed a quick, sharp shock to get his head away from all the death stuff. But death was everywhere.

How could he protect his son from experiencing death when the entire world was gasping its last breath? “I don’t want to...” His words trailed off and he clawed at his beard. “I don’t know what to do with him.”

She moved to his right, placing a hand on his. “What we do is we start showing him love and compassion.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Liam turned to her, eyes narrowing.

“I mean, shaking the boy isn’t going to help. You can’t tell him to be nice and do something like that. What kind of message do you think that’s sending to him?”

Liam glanced down at Tommy. “But he needs to know it’s wrong.”

“He does.” She pursed her lips. “He will. We need to show him what’s right, not just tell him.”

Liam let out a long breath, swallowed, and turned to her. He went to say something, but found his mouth wouldn’t move.

She took his hands in hers. “We should focus on getting food. We’ll go together and see what we can find.”

“Where?” A wave of heat prickled along his spine. “We don’t know what’s waiting for us. We don’t have a plan. We don’t even know where we are.”

“Yes, we do. If we go left along the shore, I think we’re a few miles from the Menai Bridge. There’s bound to be stuff there.”

“Like a suicide spot?” His fists tightened. “I never used to get why people would do that.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious. This is all so fucked up.”

“What did I say about sticking together. I’m not having you do anything stupid. I will never, ever forgive you if you try anything like that, I swear to God.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. We just don’t know what there is.”

“There’s Bangor across the water. There’s bound to be stuff there.”

Liam sniffed. “I thought the whole point of this was to steer clear of the mainland?”

“The whole point of this is to survive. We just need to keep away from sick people and find food and shelter.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not going to be easy. But it’s not going to happen if we just stand around here bickering like some bitter old couple.” She gestured towards the shore. “Shall we?”

Pulling on his jacket and rucksack, he gripped the cricket bat with his left hand and climbed from the boat. He dropped into the sea, a rush of cold spreading up his legs as water seeped into his boots, waves splashing around his knees, soaking his jeans. “Pass him to me.” He gestured to Tommy.

Jenna lowered the boy slowly from the side and Liam held him on his hip, one arm gripped around the boy’s waist, holding him tight. He waded through the water and onto dry land, his feet squelching with every step as he padded along the beach. He glanced back at Jenna. “You sure it’s left?”

She nodded.

Liam dropped Tommy to the beach, removed his boots, and tipped the water onto the sand. He pulled off his socks and jeans, wringing them out. Cringing with the damp and the cold, he dragged damp socks onto his feet, and fastened his boots with awkward, fumbling fingers, his hands like wood.

They followed along a channel of compacted wet sand between lines of stones and rock pools, paper-thin bruise-like shells cracking beneath their feet. Seaweed stretched out before them, like green paint splats against a brownish canvas.

After several minutes, Jenna gestured towards something ahead, raising her hands for quiet.

“What is it?”

She nodded towards a dilapidated beach hut.

Liam’s grip tightened on his bat. “I’ll take a look.”

Reaching the hut, he ran his fingers along the peeling blue paint, rotten wood exposed beneath. He leaned inside and recoiled at the stench of urine and stale beer, the used needles at his feet. He stepped back from the hut, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. There’s nothing here.”

Jenna held Tommy back as he tried to go inside. “God, it stinks.” She brought her forearm across her nose.

“Maybe we should go inland?”

“Let’s just keep going. I wouldn’t want to get lost.”

“You sure it’s not far?”

Jenna shrugged. “I don’t know.”

85. Michael

The road disappeared behind him as Michael sat in the back of a pickup truck.

A Doctor sat across from him, a shotgun resting across his lap.

“Any idea what this is all about?” Michael asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“You know as much as I do,” the Doctor said, not meeting his gaze.

“And she asked for me by name?”

“Yes.”

Michael nodded to himself. Did they know about Brandon? Had someone seen him pulling the trigger? Disposing of the bodies? Setting fire to the truck?

His mind reeled with the possibilities. What the hell was he going to do?

A story formed in his mind. Dawn was infected and she had to die. That’s when he noticed the buboes on Brandon. He burned the truck to stop the spread. He had no choice.

He let out a quivering breath. The story had holes, but it would have to do. If he had to run, he would.

He had his pistol. But there was no way he could outrun a pickup truck, or several hundred Doctors.

But, of course, if they wanted him dead, they would have killed him already.

Maybe this was about him avoiding the Doctors, avoiding the work.

Or, perhaps, it was about something else entirely.

He’d done more than his fair share of interviews over the years. He knew the tells, the fumbles criminals made that gave them away.

The truth was his own. The Director would have to provide concrete evidence before he’d give her anything she could use against him.

His grip tightened on the truck’s side. So long as he kept his cool, he could deal with whatever she had on him.

86. Liam

Liam came to an abrupt halt. He spun on his heels, his fists clenched, his shoulders tight. “This is fucking ridiculous.”

Jenna blinked as if seeing him for the first time. “What?”

Heat prickled across his neck and forehead. “How far are we going to walk?”

She let out a sigh and shifted Tommy onto her opposite hip. “I don’t know.”

“We’ve been walking for hours. It’s getting dark.” He trudged along the sand to an ancient tractor, its tyres removed, its rusted wheels half-submerged into the ground. Trees stood in a line, protecting the land from the sea, the aroma of leaves and damp soil doing little to mask the stale sweat from Liam’s armpits. He glowered at the fading light. “We should make camp.”

“What, here?” Jenna’s eyes widened. “Don’t you think we should get back to the boat?”

“For what? We can huddle up next to this.” He patted the tractor’s side, its hollow shell ringing out dull and metallic. “We’ve got trees around us. We can light a fire.”

“What about Tommy?”

“Tommy’s tired. I’m tired. My legs are aching, and, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” He scanned the trees and raked a hand through his matted hair. “It’s not ideal, but if we get a fire going, we can keep ourselves warm, and heat up some of these beans.”

“I’d rather just carry on.”

“It’s getting too dark. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Jenna hesitated for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Fine. You win. I’ll go get some sticks.”

“We all can.”

Jenna dragged a pair of thick limbs towards the tractor as Liam and Tommy gathered sticks.

Liam watched her arranging the limbs into a V-shape, piling up sticks, and stripping bark from larger branches to make a shelter.

“Hand me some paper, will you?”

Liam shook his head. “We don’t have any.”

“The label from the beans.” She reached out impatiently.

“Right.” He slid the rucksack from his shoulder and kneeled. Rifling inside, he pulled out a tin of beans and turned it in his hands, peeling off the label, and handing it to Jenna.

She tore the paper into strips, pocketing half and stuffing the other half beneath the campfire. She took a lighter from her pocket and held it under the paper, brushing her hands together when the wood started to catch fire.

“Look at you.” Liam smiled at her. “I didn’t know you could set a fire.”

“What did you think I did in cadets?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Get drunk? Meet boys? Piss around on boats?”

“It wasn’t just that.” She grinned and fanned the flames as they spread along the smaller sticks. “We should eat those beans.”

Blinking at the iridescence, Liam averted his gaze as orange spots lingered in his gaze. He opened the lid with a ring-pull and handed her the tin.

She placed the tin amid the flames.

There was something about this that made Liam feel like a real man, like he was out in the wilderness, surviving. Perhaps he could whittle himself a spear and catch wild animals. Were there even any around here? He glanced through the trees and along the beach. How would he even catch one?

Tommy sat on the tractor’s faded plastic seat, jerking the steering wheel back and forth. “I’m driving, daddy.”

“That’s great, buddy.”

Liam sidled up to Jenna. “We can use our coats as blankets. We can have Tommy between us. We just need to make sure we keep him warm.”

She nodded. “I don’t like this. We need proper shelter, Liam.”

“It’s just for one night.”

“I hope so.”

87. Tina

Tina shot awake. She sat up and scanned the unfamiliar room, stared down at the strange nightie and frowned. How long had she been asleep?

It was too quiet.

“Fuck.”

Why had she gone back to sleep? She shook her head, trying to clear the fog. Had she been drugged?

A glass of water stood on a nightstand to her left. Had she refilled it? Had someone else?

An uncanny tremble passed over her. Had someone been in here without her awareness? Why hadn’t she heard them?

Flexing her fingers, she forced herself to sit on the bed, rolling her neck against stiffness. She yawned, stretched, and reached behind her back. Had she dreamt the stitches?

She traced the wound above her left shoulder blade. Had she been shot? The hole was not too big. It must have been a low calibre, perhaps a .22. She’d seen enough bullet wounds to be pleased that it wasn’t from a sawn-off shotgun, the weapon of choice for one particularly brutal local gang.

She began piecing together what must have happened. Closing her eyes, she recalled the riot, the bikers...was there a body? Jack was there.

She looked around again. The room was clean, at least.

How did she survive? Who brought her here? There were too many questions.

Leaning forward, pressure pushed against her bladder. Slowly, she rose to her feet and held her hands out for balance.

She trudged towards the door—there was a lock, but no key.

She reached for the handle and turned. The door clicked open on creaking hinges.

She stepped onto a landing. She counted five doors, all but one of them shut. The doorway across the landing showed hints of the bathroom beyond—white porcelain over terracotta tiles. She ambled forward, slowly, silently, all the while listening, all the while keeping one hand on the wall for balance. “Hello?” Her voice came out in little more than a raspy croak. “Hello?”

She pushed the bathroom door a few inches and slipped inside, her bare feet padding on the cold floor. The aroma of men’s cologne hung in the air, clashing with the scent of a pine toilet block. She locked the door, lifted her nightie, and sat on the toilet.

When she flushed, the cistern did not refill. She tried the taps over the sink and frowned when nothing came out.

Cursing, she tried to weigh up the implications of this. Had the owner not paid his bills? Was it something to do with the outbreak? The house was too clean, too lived-in to have been abandoned.

She unlocked the bathroom door and approached the window at the landing’s other end. The window overlooked a back garden. A patio stood in for a lawn. She thought she recognised the spiked tropical plants. Was that a pineapple bush? Where was she?

Shifting her gaze to the sky, she took in the grey blandness. She was sure she was still in England.

The floor creaked behind her. “Ah, you’re up and about.”

88. Liam

Liam added more sticks to the fire. They hissed and popped, tiny sparks drifting into the night as Tommy lay curled up with his head on Jenna’s lap. The night pressed in above them as a wind rattled around the looming trees. “Think he’s going to be warm enough?”

Jenna didn’t respond.

“You just going to ignore me?” He sat on the ground next to her, watching the flames.

“I think we made a mistake staying here.”

“You want to talk about mistakes?” Liam turned his gaze away from the flames, rubbing his eyes against the sudden blindness.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shook his head. Jenna had the right idea to sit with her back to the fire. “You’ve made us homeless. Look at us.”

A long breath whistled from her nose.

“We could have stayed in Morecambe.” He tossed another stick onto the fire. “What were you thinking? You led us out here with no plan. I can’t believe I went along with it. So stupid.” He got to his feet, agitated, and started to pace.

“Sit down.”

“After everything we went through to get home, after everything that happened in Manchester and with that Frank—”

“Don’t.” She growled through tight lips.

“I killed a fucking snow leopard.” He clawed at his hair. “A snow leopard.”

“We’ve both done things we’re probably going to regret for a long time. But you said it yourself, we need to do what’s necessary to survive.”

“At what price though?”

“The rules have changed. Things have...” she searched for the word, “...shifted.”

“And now we’re here.” He slammed his fist against the tractor, cringing at the metallic ring. He met Jenna’s glare as she stood over their sleeping son. “We should have stayed home. That siren thing’s probably done by now. But, oh no, we’re out on fucking Anglesey without so much as an idea about...about anything.”

“The power plant could have melted down. You ever see what happened in Chernobyl?”

“Chernobyl was different. There was a lot of government corruption, the—”

“I don’t need a fucking history lesson, Liam.” She folded her arms. “That thing could have blown up or melted down, or anything.”

“That wouldn’t have happened. There are so many redundant safeguards.” He moved back towards the fire, circling its edge, kicking aside stones and loose chunks of soil. “It would have just shut down by itself. That’s what they do.”

“Like that fuky-whatever did in Japan?”

“Fukushima?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That was different. That was an earthquake. You need to be rational about these things.”

“Rational? We’ve just travelled half-way across the country because of the plague, so don’t talk to me about what’s rational. You said it yourself, we’ve done more than either of us would have wanted. There’s no way I could have done all that and then let us get killed by some nuclear explosion, or radiation.”

“Well, I hope your paranoia hasn’t cost us.”

Jenna moved Tommy aside, got to her feet, and squared up to Liam. “I will not apologise for this.” She prodded a forefinger into his chest. “I will not let you make me feel guilty because I wanted to protect our family.”

Staggering back, Liam slumped over the tractor and dropped his head into his hands. Jenna rubbed his back as his shoulders convulsed and tears ran through his fingers. “I can’t fucking do this.” He wiped his sleeve across his nose. “We’re going to starve out here. We’re going to die. I just want to be home. We’ve got nothing.”

“We’re not going to die.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know how to hunt, or anything. I’m a fucking journalist, I’m not equipped for all this survival crap.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. How can I provide for you and Tommy? Where are we going to get food? Where are we going to live? And even if we do, what’s to say we’re not going to catch the plague?”

“We’ve got each other and we’re alive. Let’s just focus on that. Your boy needs you to be strong. You need to man-the-fuck up.”

He glared up at her, blinking away tears. “Man up?”

She folded her arms across her chest and nodded. “I’m serious, Liam.”

89. Michael

Michael hopped from the pickup truck. A pair of Doctors flanked him as they steered him into the medical centre.

They passed through a reception area and into a corridor, reaching the door at the end.

A Doctor standing sentry at the door eyed Michael through a pair of swimming goggles. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see the Director.”

“Do you have an invitation?”

Michael waved a hand and shook his head. “She asked me to come here, I didn’t know I’d have to fucking RSVP.”

The guard knocked at the door and waited until it creaked slowly open. “You can go in.”

The door closed behind him as Michael entered the examination room. A bed stood to his left.

The Director sat on a swivel chair, reading papers on the desk. She glanced through the vertical blinds before turning to him, her face obscured by the bird mask. “Michael, isn’t it?”

He stood next to the door, waiting for her to invite him to sit, but she did not. “You wanted to see me?”

“You’re a difficult man to get hold of.”

Michael shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve been busy getting the new place sorted, getting my bearings, that kind of thing.”

“What happened with Brandon?”

Michael’s chest tightened. “I...erm...what do you mean?”

“Brandon said you’ve been avoiding him.”

“We must have missed each other.”

“Hmm.”

Michael folded his arms and leaned against the wall, trying to look relaxed. “So, what do you want?”

“Straight to business. I like that.” She looked him up and down. “I was thinking about how I could best utilise your skills.”

He gave a slight nod. “Right.”

“Now, when you said you were with the police, were you a real police officer, or a community support—”

“I can assure you I was no jumped-up security guard. I was CID.”

“A detective? Very good.”

Michael gave a nod. “Twelve years.”

“We have the island secured from external threats. But it is the internal threats I’m most concerned about.”

Michael remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Are you familiar with the Bolshevik revolution?”

A crease formed on Michael’s brow. “Where is this going?”

“Again, straight to the point. When the dust settled from the Bolshevik revolution, that is when Lenin and his goons swooped in and took control.”

“So, which one are you?”

“Both, I hope.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I will not allow dissension. I will not allow rebellion.”

“Right. So, what’s that got to do with me? I’ve got no interest in taking over if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She held his gaze for several seconds before speaking. “I need you to be my eyes and ears on this island.”

“You want me to be a spy?”

She nodded. “Spy. Secret police. Whichever title works for you. I need you to listen. I need you to root out any thought disease before it takes hold.”

“Thought disease?”

“It is not just the physical plague that can infect us. If you hear anything against the cause, you should report it to me. Do you understand?”

“Loud and clear. I take it mum’s the word?”

“Indeed.”

90. Liam

Liam awoke and stared into the darkness, shivering, his joints and muscles aching from a fitful night sleeping on the bare earth. The campfire lay dying at his feet, pink embers glowing dull. The sound of whimpering and chattering teeth pricked his awareness. “Tommy?”

The boy threw himself onto Liam’s lap, his face wet with tears. “Daddy. I’m cold.”

Rubbing Tommy’s head, Liam removed his coat and wrapped it around his son, holding the boy close, rocking back and forth. “It’s okay. I’ll keep you warm, little buddy.”

“I’m hungry,” Tommy whispered through chattering teeth.

Liam’s stomach clenched against its hollowness. Groaning, rumbling, gurgling sounds worked their way through his body. “I’m hungry too, buddy. Don’t worry, we’ll sort something.”

Jenna stirred, rolled over, and sat up. She picked something crawling from her hair and shuddered. “What time is it?”

“Don’t know.” Liam stood, his knees creaking and stiff. “Tommy’s really struggling.” He bounced the boy on his hip, cocooned like a swaddled baby. “We should head back to the boat. At least there’s shelter there.”

Jenna let out a long yawn and stretched her arms over her head. Rising to her feet, she flapped soil and dried leaves from her jacket, and held herself against the cold. “We’ve come this far. Let’s just keep moving.”

“For how long?”

“We should at least wait until morning. It’s too cold to be wandering around.”

“It’s too cold to stay still. We need to keep moving. I’m going back to the boat.”

“You’re not leaving us.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m going. And Tommy’s coming with me. If you want to stay out here that’s up to you.” He hefted his rucksack onto one shoulder, shifted Tommy across, and heaved on the other strap. He marched towards the beach, following the path the way they had come.

Jenna ran after him. “Don’t just walk off.”

Liam stepped to the side, ignoring her. He carried on walking for a long time, not speaking.

After a while, a purple and orange crescent touched the eastern sky.

“You think we’ve gone too far?” Jenna asked, breaking the silence.

“What?” Liam turned to her, remembering she was there.

“Have we gone too far?”

Liam shook his head and gestured forward. “There’s that hut.”

Jenna hooked her arm in Liam’s and carried on, passing the hut until they finally reached the boat.

Jenna climbed up first and Liam passed Tommy up to her, the boy limp with sleep.

She closed the cabin door behind them as the first rays of sunlight emerged.

91. Michael

Returning to the house, Michael snatched the car keys from the hook and went back outside.

He pressed the button on the key fob. A navy-blue Volkswagen Polo’s lights flashed.

He approached the car and opened the door, his breaths clicking and wheezing through the gas mask.

He adjusted the driver’s seat and frowned at the steering column as he searched for the ignition.

After five or so minutes, he pushed a button next to the gearstick and the car purred to life.

The display showed a full tank of fuel.

Switching off the engine, he stepped outside and locked the door.

He nodded a greeting to a trio of unmasked Doctors. His gaze lingered on the man on the right, recognition dawning—the man he’d beaten to a bloody pulp, the man who cost him his job.

What the hell was Norman Baines doing here?

92. Liam

Fresh wind blew in from the west as Liam shifted Tommy around, tightening the straps on the boy’s life jacket. The deck vibrated beneath his feet, sending shudders up his legs as the boat’s engine idled. How much fuel did they have left in the boat? How long did a full tank last and what kind of fuel did they even need?

“You ready?” Jenna called.

“We’re good.” He smiled at Tommy and tussled his hair. “You okay, buddy?”

Tommy nodded. “Are we going back to Morecambe, Daddy?”

“Not today.”

“I think I left my dinosaurs.” He reached out as though trying to grab something from the air. “I was going to bring my Spinosaurus, but I think I left it with Mister Fluffy.”

“Mister Fluffy’s a good bear. I’m sure he’ll look after all your dinosaurs.”

“But what if Mister Fluffy gets hungry and eats all my dinosaurs?”

“I’m sure they’ll still be there when we get back.”

“Can we go now? I’m scared my dinosaurs are eaten up.”

Liam rubbed Tommy’s head and offered him a smile. “Don’t worry. We won’t go home for a while, but your toys will still be there when we get back.”

“But I don’t like sleeping by fires. I was cold and it made me sad.”

“I know.” Liam let out a sigh—why did kids always manage to cut through to the truth. “It made me sad too. We’re going to find somewhere new to stay. How does that sound?”

“Will there be dinosaurs?” Tommy’s voice brightened.

Liam shrugged. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

Tommy bounced on his toes and stared out to sea. “I want a Brontosaurus. And a new Spinosaurus.” He turned to his dad, eyes widening, arms spreading, finger curling into claws. “And a big, ginormous, huge T-rex. Raaaaarrrrrr!”

“Aghhhh! No, not the T-rex. Help!”

“Rooooaaaaaarrr!” Tommy prowled towards his dad, teeth bared.

“Please don’t eat me.”

“I will eat you all up and kill you. I will smash you and splat you and break your head until you are all dead.” He grinned and made another roar.

“That’s not good, buddy. You don’t really want to kill anyone.”

“Yes, I do.”

How could he say something like that with such an innocent tone? “Look, buddy. We have to look out for each other, not hurt each other.”

Tommy pouted. “But I’m playing dinosaurs. I am the big, bad T-rex.”

“Right.” Liam rubbed his hands together for warmth, gazing up at the whitewashed sky, the sun hidden somewhere behind daubs of cloud. How the hell was he supposed to deal with this? He turned to Jenna. “How long were we asleep?”

She shrugged. “Four hours, maybe five max.”

“I feel terrible.”

“We’ll find somewhere today, I’m sure.”

The boat lurched slowly forward.

“I don’t mean that.” He gripped a handrail to the right of Jenna’s head. “Things got a bit tense when we were walking back. I...fuck...I’m sorry about that. All of it.” He took Jenna’s hand for a moment and squeezed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She turned to him briefly, gave him a smile and shrugged. “We’re together. That’s the main thing.”

Liam joined Tommy at the boat’s rear, watching as the shore retreated, a trail of white foam marking their path. “Will we see any orcas, Daddy?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think you get them around here. You should keep a lookout though.” He patted Tommy’s back and scanned the waves around them. “I guess we might see some fish, some seals if we’re lucky.” This would have been the type of question he’d look up on his phone. How much did he really know about anything? Had he just learned the best ways to find information rather than actually retaining anything?

“What about sharks?” Tommy leaned against the guardrail, jumping up and down.

“I don’t think so.” He raked his fingers through his greasy hair. “I hope not.”

Tommy stared at the surface intently, a broad smile plastered across his face. “Do you think we’ll see any narwhals?”

Liam grinned. “I don’t know. Keep looking. I’m sure you’ll see some seagulls.”

Pushing out his lower lip, Tommy huffed, and folded his arms. “I don’t like seagulls. They are too noisy and pongy and they ate my sandwich and I don’t like them and they leave feathers and I don’t like them.”

They passed the tumbledown hut.

Jenna increased the boat’s acceleration, building up speed, its front-end slicing through the water, hopping over the waves.

“We should have done this yesterday.” Jenna shook her head. “Such fools.”

“We’ve just got to keep looking forward. We can’t keep thinking about what we should have done. That list’s going to get crazy long really quick.” He sniffed. “We’ll never feel good about anything. We’ll end up like those sad bastards who comment on news websites just to spread their bile.”

“You’re only saying that because it’s your stories they comment on.”

He put his arm around his wife’s waist. A breeze blew across his face. “Things might be crap, but we can make it better by staying positive.” He kissed her on the cheek and smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too. That being said, I wish you’d had a shave.”

Liam’s hand dropped to his side.

“I’m joking.” She kissed him back. “We can get through this if we remember we love each other.”

“What’s going on here?” Tommy asked, poking his head between them.

“Did you see any narwhals?”

“No, Daddy.”

“You won’t find narwhals around here,” Jenna said.

“He can look for them. You never know...”

“I suppose.” Jenna leaned down and kissed the top of Tommy’s head. “You let us know if you see any sharks or jellyfish.”

“What’s a jellyfish? Like jelly? And ice cream?”

Jenna laughed. “They look a bit like wibbly wobbly jelly. Never touch them though, they will sting you.”

Tommy gasped. “Sting...me?”

“If you get too close to them.”

He stared at his mum for several seconds before speaking. “If a jellyfish tried to eat me, I will kick it and squash it with a big stone until it stops.”

Jenna gave Liam an unsure look and placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “They won’t hurt if you don’t touch them. We’re all God’s creatures.”

Tommy gave her a confused look. “Who’s God?”

“God is...” She turned to Liam and shrugged.

“Some people think God made the world.” He had no idea how to explain any of this stuff. He wasn’t even sure what he believed. “It’s probably just a story though.”

“Is God magical?”

“I guess.” Liam shrugged. “If it’s true, then it must have taken some magic to make everything.”

“Did he make the sun?”

“Maybe.”

“And sharks?”

“Everything.”

“Even boats?”

Liam rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. “I suppose God made the people and the materials to make the boats.”

“What’s materials?”

“The stuff you use to make things with.”

“Oh.” Tommy paused for a long moment. “Is Santa God?”

“Probably.” Liam gestured towards the beach, pointing at the rusted tractor where they’d slept the night before. “Look, Tommy. That’s where we slept. Doesn’t seem that far in the boat.”

After a few more minutes, the Menai Bridge stretched across the water towards the mainland.

“We were so close.” Jenna turned to Liam. “We should have done what I said. We’d be there by now.”

Liam shook his head. “Let’s not think like that, remember. Stay positive.”

Turning off the engine, Jenna allowed the boat to coast. She squinted at the bridge. “I think there might be roadblocks.”

“Police?”

“Not sure. Maybe.”

“At least there’s still order, I suppose. That’s good. Means everything hasn’t completely gone to shit.” He swallowed and glanced back over his shoulder. “We should probably turn around. Wouldn’t want to draw attention.”

Jenna nodded and started the engine. She guided the boat in a broad arc facing back the way they came, the scent of exhaust fumes thick in the air.

They reached the beach with the tractor, dropped the anchor, and waded to shore.

They walked along the beach for fifteen minutes before the bridge came into view again.

“We should head inland.” Liam gestured to some trees.

Jenna nodded and took Tommy’s hand.

“I’m hungry, Mummy”

“We’re all hungry.”

Liam pulled a flattened cereal bar from his jacket, tore off its wrapping, and took a big bite before handing it to Jenna who split the rest with Tommy.

Reaching a road, they found the highway blocked by lengths of steel fencing, held in place by blocks of moulded concrete.

“Someone’s been busy.” Liam scanned for a gap. He walked parallel with the fence until it turned a corner. Hesitating, he check the fence and stepped onto the open road.

He drew his cricket bat as they approached a red Peugeot 205, its paint faded by age and sea salt. How was a car like this still on the road? He teased the door handle to find it open.

Clambering onto the passenger seat, he clicked the glovebox open. A map of North Wales, bent with damp, dropped from inside, the interior light glowing a dull brownish-yellow. Liam opened it onto the page showing Anglesey. The map was probably long out of date, but how much would have really changed?

He dropped the map into his backpack and pulled out the other items—insurance documents, logbook, a tin of sweets. The tin’s lid showed a picture of oranges and strawberries, its rim a dull brass. Lifting the lid, he wrinkled his nose at the congealed sweets, coating in a film of white dust and fluff. He pushed them back inside as Tommy bounced on the back seat behind him, springs groaning.

Jenna, still outside, opened the car’s boot and rummaged inside. After half-a-minute or so, she emerged with a tube of unopened Pringles and a tyre iron. She climbed in through the back door and sat next to Tommy, placing a hand on his shoulder to get him to sit. She popped open the crisps. “They’re still in date.” She frowned. “Sour cream and onion though.”

“I’d usually pass, but I could eat a horse.”

“We might have to.” Jenna passed Liam a handful of stacked-up crisps.

He ate one at a time, placing each crisp on his tongue, letting the flavour soak in.

Rifling through his rucksack, he retrieved a bottle of water and passed it to Jenna. She gave some to Tommy, took a sip, and handed it back to Liam.

Liam licked his lips. “Maybe crisps aren’t the best idea until we get some more water.”

“We will.”

“You taking that?” He gestured towards the tyre iron.

“Do you want it?”

“You have it. I’ve grown quite attached to my bat.”

Tommy bounced on the seat again and jumped down to his bottom. “Can I have something to whack and smash and crash with, please?”

“No,” Liam and Jenna snapped in unison. They exchanged a look and smiled.

Tommy started to cry.

Jenna put an arm around him, holding him close. “It’s okay, we’ll find you some new toys, I promise.”

“But I want to smash things, Mummy. I want to go whack, smash, crash, whack, and kick all the bad guys in the head.”

“There’ll be none of that. Remember, you need to be a good boy. You need to be nice.”

Liam gazed from the window and frowned at the fading light. “We must have slept longer than we thought.” He glanced down at the dashboard clock. “If this thing’s right, it’s after six.”

“We’ll head back to the boat. Maybe get some sleep and come back tomorrow.”

“We should have a look at the tools on the boat. You never know, there might be something we can use to get through that fence.” He signalled behind him.

“Maybe that fence is there for a reason.”

Liam slammed his fist against the dashboard. “We’re almost out of food, Jenna. We’re down to the last of the water.” He glared at her through the rear-view mirror.

She turned and looked through the window, folding her arms. “Okay.”

Closing the door behind them, they made their way back to the beach.

The boat bobbed on the waves. “Tide’s in.”

“The sky’s blue,” Liam said.

Jenna shook her head. She turned to Liam with a confused look. “No, it isn’t. What are you on about?”

“Oh, sorry, I thought we were playing that game where we state the fucking obvious.”

“Watch how you’re talking to me.” She raised a finger and lowered her voice. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that. And don’t you dare speak like that in front of Tommy.”

Liam let out a long breath and raised his hands. “We’re not getting to the boat tonight. I’m sleeping by that tractor again.”

Jenna stared out at the boat, tantalisingly out of reach. “We’ll go back to that Peugeot. We know we can get in there, and we know it’s dry.”

“Fine.” Liam sighed again. “Let’s go.”

93. Tina

A hand pressed against the small of Tina’s back and led her along the hallway to her room. She complied, unsure of the man’s motives.

She let out a shuddering breath. How could she fight back if he tried something?

He helped her to sit on the bed and smiled down at her. She estimated him to be in his fifties, with a shaved head and dark eyes. He stood around six-feet tall with a lean frame and good posture. Something about his looks reminded her of a Turkish waiter she once took back to her hotel room so Michael could watch.

She scanned the room again, her eyes resting on his. Some of her colleagues said you can tell a criminal from their eyes. Either she missed that training session, or it was complete bollocks. “Where are my clothes?”

“I had to cut you out of your shirt, I’m sorry.” He held out a hand and smiled again. “I’m Ajay.”

She stared at his outstretched hand and shook her head. “I need to go.” She wobbled to her feet.

“You’re not ready. You should stay. You’re still not healed.”

She glared at him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

He raised his hands and took a step backwards. “I’ve been looking after you. I found you. I thought you were infected. But you had been shot.”

“Did you see who it was?”

Ajay frowned. “I found you near the hospital.”

“Where are we? Are we still in Newcastle?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Silverdale. I teach at the university.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, trying to weigh him up. She cleared her throat. “Well, thank you.”

He waved a hand. “It’s nothing. I’m sure you would have done the same.”

Her gaze shifted to her hands. She wouldn’t have done the same at all. She looked up at him, still woozy. “Where’s Jack?”

“I don’t know who you mean. Sorry.”

“He was...he was my partner.”

Ajay covered his mouth. “Brown hair? Well-muscled?”

“Is he...”

He took in a breath. “He wasn’t as lucky as you.”

“He’s dead?”

He gave a slight nod.

“Are you sure?”

“Someone shot him in the head.”

She slumped as tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss. There’s nothing I could have done.”

94. Liam

Rubbing the gum from his eyes, Liam shivered. The first rays of sunlight caught the windscreen’s sheen of salt and dust. He yawned, the breeze prickling his neck. “Who’s left the door—”

He turned and shook Jenna by the shoulder, his eyes darting towards the back seat. “Jenna. Jenna. Wake up.”

“Wha—”

“Where’s Tommy?”

95. Tina

Tina buried her head into the pillow, unable to stop herself from sobbing. She punched down on the bed, trying to picture Jack’s face.

She never loved him, but couldn’t help the tears.

He was the type of man she swore she should have hated, but she couldn’t help herself. Perhaps it was his charm, his looks, his body—the body definitely helped. It certainly wasn’t his personality.

Since getting married, she had slept with several other men and women. They swung, but always with agreement, always within strict parameters.

But Jack was different—that was an affair.

And it took Michael a long time to get over the Jack thing, if he ever did at all.

She tried to remember those final moments outside the hospital, recalling the masked figures. Something nagged at her.

What was it the police had called them, Doctors? Some fucking doctors.

She shifted the curtains aside and gazed into the night. Was Michael worried about her? Where was he? How long had she been here?

There was something about Michael that she couldn’t shift.

There was no way he could have been involved. Could he?

She presumed he spent his days at home watching porn and drinking strong lager. What if he hadn’t? What if he had been seduced by those Doctors?

He always slipped into depression when he didn’t have a purpose, that his life lacked meaning. Perhaps if they’d had a child, he wouldn’t spiral.

What if a gang gave him meaning?

She laughed out loud—he wasn’t fifteen, for fuck’s sake.

Something clouded her memories. She remembered the disturbance at the market, the men in masks turning up on motorbikes. She returned to her post after that. Was there a body?

A deep furrow pressed along her brow. They were at the roadblock near the hospital. Ajay had found her there.

Why could she hear Michael’s voice in the back of her mind?

Had he said ‘sorry’ to her before pulling the trigger?

She let out a shuddering breath and stared up at the full moon.

She needed to find her husband.

She had to know the truth.

96. Liam

“Tommy!” Frantic, Liam’s gaze darted along the road, scanning for movement. How had this happened? “Tommy!”

“Wait. Let’s think about this.” Jenna scrambled from the backseat and grabbed Liam’s shoulder. “We should retrace our steps. Maybe he’s gone back to play on that tractor or something.”

“Okay, you go check, and I’ll keep looking around here.”

Jenna took a few steps and stopped. “No.” She turned to him, deep lines of concern furrowing her brow. “We need to stick together.”

“If we split up, we’ve got more chance of finding him sooner.”

“And we’ve got more chance of losing each other if we split up. We stick together.” She grabbed his hand and he nodded.

They ran through the trees and onto the beach, calling out and searching through bushes, checking behind rocks, making their way towards the boat.

When Liam reported on missing children in the past, his first instinct was always to blame the parents—for either committing some heinous act themselves and trying to cover it up, or through neglect. Who could be so irresponsible as to let their kids go missing? But, now...

“Look out for tracks.” Jenna pointed across the sands.

“Tracks? What kind of tracks?” How could this have happened? What was Tommy thinking? Had someone taken him or had he gone off on his own?

“Footprints. Tommy’s footprints. If he’s been on the beach, his footprints might still be there.”

“Good thinking.” Liam continued along the beach with the sea to his right, zigzagging across the sand, kicking aside shells and stones, and tripping over seaweed. A dried-out jellyfish lay on the sand, almost transparent.

“Don’t touch it.” She jogged after him. “Those things can still sting.”

He prodded it with a foot. “It won’t.”

Jenna covered her mouth with a hand when she glanced down at the creature. “What if Tommy got stung? What if he’s lying dead somewhere?”

“Let’s keep looking. We can’t think like that. He’s a smart kid. He’s probably just gone for a wander. You know what he’s like.” What if she was right? How could he live with himself if anything happened?

Jenna gave a tight-lipped smile and managed a weak nod. “I’m such a bad mother.”

“Don’t talk like that. He can’t have gone far. It’s not like we left him alone. People do that, you know. People fucking leave their kids and wonder why they go missing. We didn’t. We’re not bad people.”

“We don’t even know when he went, or even if someone took him.” She slumped to her knees, her fingers grabbing at the sand. “What if some paedophile grabbed him?”

“Come on. Get up.” He reached down to pull her to her feet, but she shrugged him away.

“I can’t believe we lost our son.” She clawed at her hair. “What kind of parents are we?”

“The type of parents who are looking for him frantically. Get up.”

Jenna looked up at that, blinking away tears. “I try to be strong...don’t you think we’ve been through enough already? And now this. I can’t do it.” Her hands shook. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

Liam clenched his jaw and jerked her up to her feet. “Get up.”

She stood before him, arms folded, meeting him with a defiant glare.

“When I used to do stories about missing kids, the police would always say every minute counts. We need to find Tommy. If you don’t help, if you don’t pull your head out of your arse, then maybe you are a bad mother.”

“How could you say that?”

“Don’t make it true.” Liam shook his head and marched on ahead, signalling towards the tractor, half-shrouded by the trees in the distance. “Let’s keep an eye out for any signs.”

Jenna joined him half-a-minute later. “The tide’s out now. I’ll have a quick look at the boat.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you back here.”

Jenna ran towards the lifeboat while Liam made his way into the trees, brushing aside branches and tearing through spiders’ webs. Birds called to each other as twigs snapped beneath his feet. He searched around the trees, but found no fresh tracks, no suggestion of Tommy. When he returned to the tractor, Jenna stood waiting for him, her hand resting on its seat.

“Anything?”

She shook her head.

“Shit.”

“You?”

“Nope.”

“Fuck.”

97. Michael

Michael’s fists tightened as Norman Baines walked past.

He flipped open the boot and dragged out the tyre iron. He checked his pistol and gritted his teeth.

Locking the car behind him, he followed the men, keeping his distance so they wouldn’t know he was trailing them.

A boy wearing a dinosaur coat darted ahead of him. He watched the kid for several seconds before turning his attention back to Norman.

After a minute or so, Norman split from the others.

Michael could take him out there and then. No one would know. That man had no right to be on this earth after what he’d got away with.

He took in a sharp breath and reluctantly stopped. Norman could be armed and there was no point in going after the man in broad daylight.

He could report Norman to the Director—let the Doctors deal with the scumbag.

98. Tina

Tina opened her eyes when Ajay backed into the room carrying a tray.

He set the tray on the nightstand and drew back the curtains. “How are you?”

He fluffed the pillow behind her, allowing her to sit up, and placed the tray onto her lap.

She glanced down at the single hard-boiled egg and a small cup of sickly green liquid. “I don’t know. Fine, I think.”

“I would like to check your stitches and clean the area to abate infection.”

“Fine.”

She turned the egg between her fingers, bit off the top half and chewed. “What’s in the cup?”

“Medicine. Nothing to worry about. It will assist the healing.”

She ate the lower half of the egg and took a sip from the glass of water.

“I will take your tray if you’d like?”

Tina nodded and swirled the medicine around the cup before knocking it back. “Bleurgh!”

After a minute or so, it was as though she were falling, the world turning to fog.

Ajay stood and watched as the last slivers of her awareness drifted away.

99. Liam

Returning to the Peugeot, Liam leaned inside and checked again for any signs of Tommy.

His rucksack stood on the backseat next to his cricket bat. “I can’t believe I left these. I wasn’t thinking.”

Jenna rested a hand on his shoulder and looked inside. “There’s that tyre iron too.”

Liam heaved the backpack onto his shoulders and slid the cricket bat inside, cursing himself under his breath. “So stupid. We could have lost everything.”

“But we didn’t. You weren’t thinking straight. Let’s try to stay focused.”

“I know. But what if someone’s taken—”

“Stay positive, remember?”

Liam took a deep breath and nodded. He scanned along the road. “I was thinking we should do a widening spiral and look out for anything that would attract his attention.”

Jenna nodded. “Right, let’s go.”

100. Michael

Returning to the Polo, Michael went to turn on the ignition and stopped. He smacked a hand down against the steering wheel. “Fuck.”

What had he got himself into that a guy like Norman Baines could be involved?

He wasn’t surprised. The man loved power and control. He was sick and devious and he needed to be stopped.

He pressed the ignition button and tried the radio.

Nothing.

He pulled out and drove in a daze towards the medical centre.

When he arrived, Doctors milled around the car park, some of them loading deliveries of bottled water and dried foods.

Parking, he got out and marched inside. He ignored the guards and knocked at the Director’s door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me. It’s Michael.”

“Have you uncovered something I should know about?”

“Yeah.”

“You may enter.”

The guard opened the door and gestured him through.

“Ah, Michael.”

He could just make out the whites of her eyes through the bird mask.

“I was wondering when you’d have something for me.”

He nodded. “There’s a bloke here called Norman Baines.”

She inclined her head slightly. “Go on.”

“He was one of my cases back when I was with the force. Nasty piece of work. Got off on a technicality.”

“Oh?”

“The guys a perv.”

“A perv?”

“Nonce. Abused a bunch of underage girls around Stoke.”

The Director let out a breath. “Is he part of the project?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is he a Doctor?”

“Yeah. That’s what I’m concerned about.”

“So, he is with us?”

“Yeah. He’s called Norman Baines. I saw him—”

“Boo!”

Michael started as a young boy in a mask and a dinosaur coat burst out from under the desk. “Jesus.” He placed a hand on his chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“As you can see,” the Director said. “I’m busy entertaining my boy.”

Michael nodded. “Right. What should I do about Norman?”

The Director shrugged a shoulder. “What about him? This is a new world. This is a new dawn. We are in the dawn of the great cleansing. It is a chance for us to all start anew.”

“But the guy’s a paedo.”

“And he’s one of us. We must protect our own.”

“But—”

“Unless he’s plotting rebellion, we have nothing further to discuss.”

Michael dipped his gaze. “As you wish.”

“Is this an issue for you?”

“Not at all.” He took in a breath. “Just glad to have some things clarified.” He jerked his thumb behind him. “I’d better get back to it, then.”

“Thank you, Michael. Remember what your role is.”

“I will.”

101. Tina

Tina’s head throbbed. She forced herself to sit. Her stomach lurched. What had he given her? Had he drugged her? Had he done worse? She checked between her legs and relaxed, sure he hadn’t taken advantage.

She wobbled to her feet and staggered towards the bathroom, placing a hand on the wall for balance. “This is fucking ridiculous.”

She used the toilet and went to wash her hands, but the taps only gurgled at her.

Gripping the banister, she made her way downstairs, passing coats on hooks and shoes set out in neat pairs on a rack. She tried the front door to find it locked.

Who was this Ajay guy? What did he really want from her? Had he kidnapped her? Did he intend to keep her prisoner?

A noise came from the kitchen. She squatted next to the shoe racks.

Ajay whistled to himself as he sauntered along the hall and turned to the stairs.

She might not have had much strength, but surprise was everything.

She lunged for him, tackling him to the ground.

He flipped her onto her back with ease and held her wrists down. “Whoa, whoa. Easy now.”

She swung at him, but she didn’t have the strength to slip past his grip. “Let me go.”

He got to his feet and stepped away from her.

She shuffled backwards, her hands trembling. “Who are you?”

“I told you, I just want to help.”

“You drugged me. You’re trying to keep me prisoner. I’m married. The police will be looking for me.”

“Wait, what? You think...” He shook his head, eyes widening. “No. It’s not like that. I promise.”

“What did you make me drink?”

“Painkillers and penicillin.”

“Painkiller?” She narrowed her eyes. “What kind of painkiller?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It needed to be strong. All I had was methadone.”

“As in heroin?”

“It’s an opioid. It—”

“You do realise methadone is a controlled substance?” She shook her head as if blowing away cobwebs. “Did you say penicillin?”

He nodded.

“What use is that?”

“I had to try something. You were starting to get an infection. I know it’s a long-shot. I thought, combined with honey and the maggots—”

“Maggots?”

“They helped to rid the wound of infection.”

She got up and sat on the bottom step, watching warily. “Who are you?”

“I told you. I am Ajay Johal, I teach medicine at the university. I am a friend.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“I was. I am a teacher now.”

She gazed down at her hands. “And you gave me methadone?”

“You had been shot. It was all I had to help you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That is your choice. I wish you no harm. I promise.”

“Let me go then.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You—”

“So, you are keeping me prisoner? You know I’m police, don’t you? My colleagues will track you down and smash in your door.”

He glanced uneasily toward his front door and sighed. “You are not a prisoner.”

“Take me home, then.”

102. Michael

Michael pulled the car up outside the house where Norman Baines had entered. He drummed on the steering wheel, weighing up his options.

What kind of operation was this Director running anyway? How could she let a guy like this run around as if nothing had happened?

Maybe he could leave the island, find his way home?

He wanted to help, but not with whatever this was.

He punched the steering wheel. This was ridiculous.

He caught movement in his wing mirror as a man and woman approached.

He reached for his pistol and eyed them.

The man was white, slim, maybe five-nine, five-ten. He had shoulder-length blond hair, unwashed, and a wiry beard. Michael guessed him to be in his mid-30s. The woman was around the same age, afro-Caribbean, around five-six.

What were they doing here?

They didn’t fit the Doctors’ profile.

Checking his pistol, Michael let out a sigh and opened the door.

103. Liam

After almost an hour of fruitless searching, Liam stood at the steel fencing and gazed beyond, his fingers curling around the mesh. “Tommy! Tommy!” He gestured along the fence’s bottom. “You think he could have squeezed under there?”

“Can I help you?” a male voice asked.

Starting, Liam pivoted at the sight of a man dressed in a black rubber catsuit with a gas mask under his arm. He stood eye-to-eye with Liam, patches of hair growing through his shaved head, a rough beard clinging to his jaw. “You seen a boy?” He gestured Tommy’s height. “About this tall.”

The man’s mouth twitched and he glanced over his shoulder. “What’s he look like?”

“Dark hair, curly. Brown eyes.”

The man looked between Liam and Jenna. “Half-caste?”

Liam tried not to glare. “He was wearing a blue coat with dinosaurs on.”

The man nodded and rubbed his chin. “I think I did.”

Liam detected the hint of a Stoke accent. “Where?”

“I think I saw him heading to the Menai base this morning.”

“You sure it was him? How long?”

The man shrugged. “An hour, maybe two. Couldn’t be sure.”

“You need to take us.”

“Is that right?” The man sniffed.

Liam turned to Jenna, eyebrows raised.

The man went to speak, and hesitated, giving an unsure look beyond the fence.

“Please.” Jenna’s voice grew soft. “Our son’s missing. You can help us.”

The man eyed them and raised his chin.

“Are you a parent? Do you have children?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, the man sighed. “Alright. I’ll help.”

“I’m Liam. This is Jenna.” Liam held out a hand.

The man shook it. “Michael.”

“You’d best lead the way, mate.”

Michael skirted the fence for a few minutes, walking ahead with his head held high.

“Why is he dressed like that?” Jenna asked in a hushed voice.

Liam frowned at Michael’s clothes. “Who cares?”

“Here we are.” Michael shifted a section of fence aside, glanced around, and closed the gap behind them.

“What’s with the fence? Liam asked.

“Security.” Michael strode on ahead. After a few seconds, he stopped and turned to them. “You both clean?”

“As in plague clean?”

Michael nodded.

“Had some goons strip us down. We’re fine, mate.”

Without acknowledging Liam’s answer, Michael carried on. They passed along the road towards a cluster of houses. Michael stopped and turned to them. “I think I saw him around here.” He made a vague gesture. “Maybe...”

“Which way was he going?” Liam asked.

Michael shrugged. “That way, but I don’t know for sure...”

“Tommy!” Jenna called.

Michael glared at her. “Keep your voice down. What’s wrong with you?”

Liam gave Michael a confused look. “We need to find our son.”

“Then we’ll search.” He licked his lips and pointed along the row of grey stone terraces. “Check these houses.”

The door to the first house opened, and Liam stepped in behind Michael. Brown and grey whorls extended across the hall carpet.

“Check cupboards and stuff,” Liam said, calling after Michael. “The kid likes to hide.”

Liam and Jenna searched the ground floor, calling for Tommy.

After less than a minute, Michael returned from upstairs. “We’re clear. Let’s try the next one.” He jogged outside and Liam followed.

“I don’t like this,” Jenna whispered. “He’s dressed like—”

“We’ve got a lead.”

“I don’t trust him.”

Michael shoved into a door shoulder-first. “In here.”

They entered the house. The aroma of cooked onions hung in the air. Michael raised a hand and gestured for silence. “Think there’s someone here,” he whispered. “I thought these houses had been emptied.”

Creaks came from the floorboards above.

“Tommy? Hide and seek’s over now. Come out. We’ve found you.”

The floorboards groaned again.

“Is anyone in here?” Michael gestured to the stairs. “Hello?”

“I’ll take a look.” Liam slid his cricket bat from his rucksack and crept up the steps. He tried the first door, leading to a bathroom, checked inside, and shrugged. “Nothing.”

Michael and Jenna huddled on the stairs, watching him.

He tried the next door.

An empty box-room stood silent.

Light poured in through the sagging curtains, throwing shadows across the peeling wallpaper and an unmade bed.

A noise came from behind the door.

He crossed the landing and knocked. “Tommy?”

Nothing.

The noise came again.

He glanced around at Jenna and swallowed, reaching towards the handle.

Opening the door, he stepped back. His eyes met a teenage girl’s staring back at him. She shrunk away from him.

“Oh Jesus.” Liam turned away, his bat slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor. He stood in the doorway, frozen in time, his mouth agape, the world around him washing into a haze.

Jenna rested a hand on him, holding him steady as Michael shoved past them through the door.

“What the hell’s going on?” Jenna asked.

Michael charged over to the bed, pulling at the binds around the teenage girl’s wrists. He tore off a cloth gag and the girl cowered away from him. “We’re here to help.”

Jenna stepped forward and held out a hand. “It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

The girl stared at them wide-eyed, shaking her head, her bony arms wrapping around her legs.

“Who did this to you?” Jenna asked.

The girl eyed Michael and did not answer.

A door slammed shut from the floor below.

“Have you seen a little boy?” Jenna asked.

The girl frowned and shook her head.

Michael leaned through the door as footsteps thundered up the stairs.

Liam spun to see a man in a black cloak and garish bird mask. “What the fuck?”

Michael pushed the man downstairs, saying something Liam couldn’t make out.

Jenna ran upstairs. “What’s happening?”

Liam shook his head. “They’re arguing. I think they know each other.”

“Those clothes. He’s one of them.”

Michael cried out as the masked man shoved him against the wall.

“I’m going down.” Liam picked up his bat.

Jenna yanked his wrist. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“You’re a fucking nonce, that’s why,” Michael shouted. “I should have finished you when I had the chance.”

104. Tina

Ajay brought his silver Lexus to a stop outside Tina’s house and turned off the engine. She looked at him and offered him a languid smile. “I don’t know how to thank you. All that stuff I said about you wanting to keep me hostage—”

“Is water under the bridge. As I say, I just wanted to help—anyone else would have done the same.”

She shook her head. “No, they wouldn’t. You’re a good person. I shouldn’t have misunderstood your intentions like that.”

“It’s fine. I can see it from your perspective.”

“Would you like to come in for a coffee?”

“I’m not sure that is wise.”

Heat prickled her cheeks. “As in, for an actual coffee.”

“Oh, of course.” He ran a hand across his shaved scalp. “Thank you.”

She slipped from the car and shuffled towards the front door. “Shit.” She patted herself down and frowned.

“No key?”

“They’re still in my locker at the station.” She stepped back from the door and shook her head. “Shit.”

“Maybe we could—”

“Wait!” She walked around the side gate and shifted a waist-high plant pot to one side. “Can you help me shift this?”

Ajay joined her to take the pot’s weight.

Lifting a slab, she found the spare key half-submerged in soil, and raised it with a triumphant smile. “And Mike always said this was a security risk.”

Opening the door, she let herself inside and gestured for Ajay to follow.

“Michael?”

Had he shot her? Had it really happened? Was it a dream, a false memory?

The softness of his apology haunted her. It couldn’t have been him. That would be ridiculous.

She tried the light switches to find none of them working.

Ajay sat on the sofa in the sitting room as she opened the fridge. She winced at the stench of something rotten.

She took out a bottle of water and tested the gas hob, smiling at the familiar hiss.

Taking a pan from the draining board, she filled it with water. “All I’ve got is black coffee.”

“That’s fine.”

She heated the water and returned to the sitting room, sitting on the chair across from Ajay. “I’m sorry I accused you of being dodgy. If the offer’s still there, I like to come back with you.” She glanced down at the floor then back up at him. “If that’s okay, of course?”

He nodded. “That’s fine.”

“Thank you. I think you’re right about me not being ready.” She smiled and gestured upstairs. “I’ll need to pack a few things though.”

“What’s with the change of heart, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I needed to make sure I could trust you. You brought me home. I’m sure if you were what I thought you were, you would have held me captive.”

He sniffed. “Let’s hope that when this plague is done, people will learn to trust each other again.”

She shook her head. “I doubt it. People are people. You can’t change that.”

“Such a sad way of looking at the world. As far as I can tell, people are generally good. It’s just circumstances that make people bad.”

“Yeah right.” Tina sniffed and folded her arms. “In my job, I deal with arseholes all day—robbers, rapists, kiddy-fiddlers, you name it. There are some genuinely evil people out there. Circumstances is no excuse.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Do you remember there was a guy last year who went around punching schoolgirls in the back of the head at the bus station?”

Ajay shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I arrested him.”

Ajay furrowed his brow. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“He was a recruitment consultant. He had a wife and three kids, and a gorgeous house.” She shook her head. “He just did it for kicks.”

“You see only one side of life. I see doctors and nurses who dedicate their lives to healing.”

“Hmm.”

Ajay shifted his weight and gestured towards the kitchen. “Sounds like the water’s boiling.” He rose to his feet. “Would you like me to pour them?”

Tina nodded. There was no point in debating with him. He hadn’t seen the things she had. “Sure. Cups are above the kettle, duck.”

When Ajay went into the kitchen, she glanced at the dining table—a slip of paper caught her eye.

She got up and read Michael’s note. Her mouth dropped open. She read it again, her face contorting into a sneer, and crushed the note in her hand. “Motherfucker.”

105. Michael

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “You sick bastard.”

Recognition flashed in Norman’s eyes. “You’re that copper.”

“Was.” He raised his pistol. “Thanks to you.”

Norman staggered backwards with raised hands. “What is this? You couldn’t pin anything on me. I was innocent.”

“You’re a fucking liar. I know what you did. And I know what you’re doing here.”

“Wait. I can get you anything. Do you want cash? Girls? Boys? Please. We can—”

Michael fired.

106. Liam

Liam started at the bang. “What the fuck was that?”

“Sounded like a gunshot,” Jenna said.

The masked man lay still at the bottom of the stairs. Michael stood over him, breathless and pouring with sweat.

Liam raised his hands. “We don’t want any trouble, mate.”

“Is he alive?” Jenna stared down at the masked man. “I think he’s still breathing.”

Michael nodded and tugged at his beard. “I said I’m going to help you find your kid. Sorry you had to see that.”

“You know him?” Jenna asked.

Michael didn’t answer.

“You one of them?”

“No.” Michael glared at Jenna and let out a long sigh.

Liam spun on his feet as the girl bounded past him, bolting down the stairs with the cricket bat. She swung the bat down on the masked man’s head, again, and again, and again.

Michael and Liam wrestled her away.

Liam grabbed his bat and wiped away the blood.

The girl dragged herself to the bottom step and sat with her head in her hands, sobbing silently. She shrugged Jenna away when she tried to put an arm around her.

“What’s your name?”

The girl didn’t respond.

“Why don’t you come with us? We can help you.” Jenna kneeled before her, but the girl shook her head, got to her feet, and ran out of the front door. “Where are you going?”

The door slammed shut behind her.

“What do we do?” Jenna asked.

Michael shrugged. “We keep looking for your boy.”

107. Tina

Tina rushed upstairs, ignoring Ajay when he returned with the coffees.

He called after her. “Where are you going?”

“I need to pack.” She charged into her bedroom and hauled a rucksack from the bottom of her wardrobe, setting it onto the bed. She dragged clothes from her drawers and cupboards, hardly noticing what she stuffed into the pack.

She checked the top of Michael’s wardrobe. She yanked his gun case down and set it on the bed. She flipped it opened and found it empty. “Motherfucker.”

Heaving on a pair of jeans, top, and hoodie, she tied her hair back and snatched a toothbrush from the bathroom.

With a groan, she heaved the pack onto her back and jogged downstairs. She stopped at the sight of Ajay, almost forgetting he was there. “You need to leave.”

“Leave?” He gave her a confused look and gestured to a pair of cups. “What about the coffees?”

“Fuck the coffees. I need to go.”

“Go? Go where?”

“To Anglesey.” She pulled on a jacket.

“You haven’t finished your treatment. You could get much worse.” He shook his head. “This is a bad idea.”

“You’re not talking me out of this.”

“What’s important about Anglesey?”

“My husband’s there.”

“Please, just think about this.”

“No.”

He took a sip of his coffee and stared at her. “At least drink this.”

“Fine.” She snatched the cup, swigged the coffee, and gestured to the front door. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, but I really need to go.”

“What’s brought this on?”

Tina held out the crumpled note from Michael. “This.”

Ajay got up and read the note. He met her gaze and shook his head. “You can’t drive in that condition.”

“Tough. I’m going to find him.”

He took in a breath and shrugged to himself. “I will drive.”

108. Liam

Liam let out a long sigh and raked his hands back through his hair. “What should we do?”

“We keep searching,” Jenna snapped.

Michael stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “We could search around here more, or I could ask around inside the base.”

Liam and Jenna exchanged looks.

“What if someone’s taken Tommy like they did that girl?” Jenna covered her mouth and began to tremble.

“We’ll find him.”

“Follow me,” Michael said, walking on ahead.

Jenna didn’t move. “You think we can trust him? He’s one of them.”

“What choice do we have?” Liam muttered. “We need to find Tommy.”

“But what if it’s a trap?”

“You saw what happened earlier.”

Michael turned to them, walking backwards. “You coming, or what?”

Liam and Jenna shared a glance and a nod. “Coming.”

Michael turned and carried on along the road.

They passed houses and parked cars. Wooden crates stood piled on the backs of pickup trucks as men and women wearing leather clothing watched them curiously.

Michael slowed his pace, joining Liam and Jenna as they marched towards another fence and security barrier. “Keep close. I’ll see if I can get someone to help.”

“Okay.” Liam tried to smile. “Thanks, mate.”

“Wait here.” Michael squeezed past the barrier as Liam watched him go through and disappear around a corner.

Liam glanced up at a man in a makeshift booth. “Hey. You seen a boy wearing a dinosaur coat?”

The man shrugged. “You should probably leave. This is a restricted area.”

“One of your people’s helping us find our boy,” Jenna said. “He said to wait here.”

“I saw.”

“We’re not going anywhere until we find our boy.” Liam folded his arms.

The man said something into a walkie-talkie, his eyes fixed on Liam.

“This is too weird,” Jenna whispered. “Where’s Michael gone? I knew we shouldn’t have trusted him.”

A black transit van emerged from beyond some houses ahead and pulled up before the barrier. The van idled for a few moments before the engine stopped.

The two cabin doors opened in unison, and a pair of Doctors dropped to the ground.

The driver stood a head taller than the passenger and wore a dark green gas mask beneath a clear plastic hood.

The passenger stared through a mask that made Liam think of a cartoon fox.

Jenna stiffened at Liam’s side.

“This is a restricted area,” the driver said.

“Yeah, your bloke in the booth already said.” Liam glanced down at the man’s shotgun and raised his hands. “We don’t want any trouble, mate.”

“Have you seen our boy?” Jenna said, stepping towards them. “He’s four, got black curls, about this tall.”

“He’s wearing a blue dinosaur coat,” Liam added.

The Doctors exchanged a glance. The driver shook his head and turned to Liam. “I won’t ask you again, pal. You need to leave.”

“Fuck you,” Jenna said.

“What are you doing?” Liam asked.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Jenna pursed her lips and raised her chin. “What are you going to do to us? Shoot us for wanting to get our son back?” She pointed at her chest and at Liam. “We’ve lost everything. We’ve got nothing to lose. If you’re not going to use that thing, then I suggest you back the fuck up. We need to find our boy.” She shoved through the barrier and the Doctors stared at her, seemingly unable to move.

“Jenna! No!” Liam dropped his arms to his side and followed her through the barrier.

The driver stepped in front of him, blocking his way. Liam shoved him back. “You need to step aside, mate. We’re going to look for our boy. Then we’ll get out of your hair and leave you to whatever this is.”

The driver struck Liam with the shotgun’s handle, thrusting it deep into his gut.

Liam cried out and bent double.

The driver dragged Liam to his feet and shoved him into the back of the van.

Jenna fell in after him, the door sliding shut behind them, shrouding them in darkness.

Breathless, Liam reached out for Jenna’s hand. “You okay?” He gritted his teeth as pain spread through his stomach.

They slid on the steel-ridged floor as the van hurtled forwards. After a minute or so, the van skidded to a halt and the door slid open.

“Come on.” The woman with the fox mask yanked Jenna to her feet.

“Try anything and you know what will happen,” the man said, thrusting Liam’s arm behind his back, leading him towards a boarded-up house. They followed the woman with the fox mask inside.

Liam tripped across the threshold, his knees crashing against bare floorboards. The man lifted him to his feet and shoved him through a door, locking the pair inside.

Jenna and Liam embraced.

The front door slammed shut.

Liam pulled away and tried the door handle.

The room around them stood empty. A sliver of sunlight cut through the dusty gloom, poking through a crack in the board covering the window. Jenna tried the light switch.

“No bulb.” Liam pointed vaguely to the ceiling.

“Fuck!” Jenna smashed her fists against the door. “What the hell are we going to do?”

Liam let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t know.”

109. Tina

Tina winced as she threw her rucksack onto the rear seat of Ajay’s car, the stitches in her back tugging at her flesh. It seemed strange to her that such an ancient technique like sewing up wounds was still used.

She glanced up at the sky but everything glowed grey and dull.

She sunk into the passenger seat and slowly pulled the seatbelt across her front.

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Ajay stared at her with a concerned look set in his eyes, his scalp glistening with sweat.

“You’re not going to talk me out of this.” She pushed out her jaw, locking her teeth down as she stared along the road ahead.

“I just think—”

“You said you were going to drive me. If you’re not, I’ll get out now.” “I am just concerned about your health—I am sure you can understand that.” He turned to her with a solemn look. “I will drive you to Anglesey. But I need you to tell me what’s so important there.”

She shifted her weight on the seat. How much should she tell him? “My husband’s gone there.”

“I know.”

She took in a deep breath. “He’s the one who shot me.”

110. Liam

Liam swung his cricket bat at the door again, staggering back with the impact. He shoved against it with a shoulder.

“Sit down. You’re going to tire yourself out.”

“I swear to God, if I see that Michael again, I’m going to smash his fucking skull in.”

“No, you’re not.” Jenna pulled him gently away from the door, leading him to the opposite corner. “That’s not how we should be dealing with things.”

“He lied to us. You can’t do that to people.”

Jenna let out a sharp breath from her nose.

Liam tugged at his beard and glared up at her in the gloom. “Something funny?”

“What are you going to do? This place is swarming with those...with those...those people. You try anything stupid, and you’re going to get us both killed.”

Leaning back, Liam blinked. “We need to get Tommy back and they threw us in here. Look at what happened with that girl. Whatever we’ve walked into, this is some dark shit.” Tightness gripped his chest as a wave of cold sweat passed over him, his arm hairs standing on end. “I’m scared for Tommy.”

Jenna slid down the wall and sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I know.” She rotated her wedding ring. “We can’t think like that though. What was it you were saying about trying to stay positive? We can’t think the worst.”

“But we’ve seen the worst.” Liam stared down at his open hands. “That girl. She can’t have been older than sixteen. And they killed your mum. They’re sick.”

“We need to stop them.”

“How? I want to be positive, but everything’s turning to shit.” He sat up at the sound of rattling keys from behind the door, the static crackle of a walkie-talkie. He slid the cricket bat back into his rucksack and got up as the door swung open. He covered his eyes as a glaring light flooded the room.

“Have you found our son?” Jenna asked. “You can’t keep us locked up like this.”

“No, we haven’t, and yes we can,” the man said. Liam recognised him as the same man from before, his face obscured by a gas mask.

“Where’s your fox friend?”

The man didn’t respond.

“Please, take us to someone in charge. We don’t want trouble. We just want to get our son back so we can be on our way.”

“Where do you live?”

“Nowhere,” Liam said.

“That’s not an answer.”

“We’re looking for somewhere.”

Jenna stepped forward, raising her hands. “Please. Use your walkie-talkie. Ask if anyone’s seen Tommy.”

“How are you on the island?”

“We took a boat,” Liam said. “We had to leave our home. We’ve got nowhere.”

“The ferries were stopped.”

Jenna shook her head. “Our own boat. We came here a few days ago. We heard Anglesey was safe from the plague.”

The man nodded. “You shouldn’t be here. This is a protected area.”

“As you’ve said, mate.” Liam clenched his fists. “We just wanted to find somewhere to live.”

Jenna moved towards him. “Can we please speak to someone?”

“You’re in luck, as it happens. Your friend vouched for you. He said he’ll take you.”

“Friend? What friend?” Liam narrowed his eyes.

“I think his name’s Michael.” The man stood aside from the door, gesturing for them to leave.

“Can I use the loo?” Jenna asked, ducking past the man.

“Upstairs. First door.”

Liam leaned in the doorway, waiting. He shook his head, unsure what to make of everything. “You said he’s going to take us. Have they got Tommy?”

“Couldn’t say.”

“Couldn’t, or won’t?”

The man raised his hands. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen your kid, okay?”

“Where’s Michael?”

Jenna came back down the stairs and the man shrugged. “Best ask yourself. He’s waiting outside.”

111. Tina

Ajay pulled up at his house and Tina followed him inside. She watched as he packed a bag of food and medicines, packets of biscuits, tins, bottled water, cartons of apple juice.

She sat on a white sofa and gazed around the sitting room. Books lined the shelves. A vinyl record player stood where she expected a television. Jack used to tell anyone who would listen that he didn’t own a television, like that made him a fucking god. She pictured his face and shuddered. What would happen to his body, to any of the bodies?

Picking up a photo from above the fireplace, Tina saw a young Ajay on his wedding day. A slender woman with curly, dark hair stared into his eyes.

Ajay gently lifted the photo from her hand, gazed at the image for a long moment, and placed it back on the mantelpiece.

“Is that your wife?”

“Was. She died four years ago last month.”

“I’m sorry.” Tina sucked in her bottom lip. “What was her name?”

“Ela.”

“That’s unusual. Where was she from?”

“London.”

“Her heritage, I mean.”

“Her grandparents were Turkish. She was born and raised in Bethnal Green.”

“Oh. Okay.” They shared an awkward smile and she caught a glimpse of a revolver on his hip. “What’s that for?”

“In case we get into trouble. We don’t know what it’s like out there.”

“Seems quiet enough to me.”

“That’s what worries me.”

112. Liam

“Jesus.” Liam stared out of the car window, shaking his head. “Looks like a concentration camp.”

Michael kept his eyes on the road, bringing the car to a stop at a barrier. He wound the window down. “I’ve got a couple here to see the Director.”

The man at the security barrier spoke into a walkie-talkie and waited, his dark eyes sweeping between Liam and Jenna.

After a few moments, the man raised the barrier and waved them on.

Liam’s eyes wandered to the Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch sign, and back to the guard. “What’s with the security?”

“To stop the spread of infection.” Michael kept his eyes on the road ahead.

“Is it working?”

Michael shrugged and muttered something under his breath. “We need to pull over.” He nodded towards a pair of Doctors signalling them off the road. “You know what to do?”

Liam shuddered. “They’re going to examine us, aren’t they?”

“I can’t go through that again,” Jenna said. “Not after—”

“You’ll have to.” Michael cut her off. “Do you know what they’ll do if they think you’re infected?”

Jenna let out a bitter laugh. “Yes, I think I do.”

“Her mum was infected.”

Michael didn’t respond. He turned off the engine, got out, and stripped down to his underwear, placing his hands on his head.

“What are we going to do?” Jenna turned away from the window.

“We need to get Tommy. You don’t think you’re infected, do you?”

Jenna shook her head. “It’s not that.”

“I know.” He forced a smile. “I’ll be with you. At least we know what to expect.”

She let out a sigh and opened the door. Stepping outside, she took off her clothes, laying them carefully on the car’s roof.

Three Doctors swarmed around them. Two wore gas masks; the third bore a bull’s head with stylised gold filigree encircling the snout and tipping the horns.

Liam stared at nothing as they poked and prodded around his groin and armpits, only daring to exhale when they gave him and Jenna the all-clear. Bundling his clothes together, he hopped into the back of the car and pulled on his jeans, T-shirt, and hoodie.

“We might as well walk from here,” Michael said. “The Director’s based in the surgery along here.” He gestured vaguely ahead.

“Fine.” Liam got up and took Jenna’s hand.

Slipping between steel bollards, they crossed a car park filled with trucks and vans, as Michael led the way to a single-storey brick building.

A line of Doctors stood guard, one of them holding a rifle.

“We’ve got an appointment with the Director,” Michael said.

“Wait here.” One of the men eyed Michael through a vulpine mask as another spoke into a walkie-talkie.

Liam tilted his head at the rumbling hum beneath his feet. “What’s that noise?”

“Generators. Don’t know if you noticed, but the Doctors cut off the power and water.”

“Any reason?”

Michael shrugged.

A tall Doctor opened the double-doors and gestured for Michael, Liam and Jenna to step inside.

Following the man into a reception area, they passed soft chairs and notice boards, as dozens of Doctors milled around, most of them unmasked.

Michael halted at the last door along the corridor. He smiled at the guard. “You going to knock, or am I?”

The guard knocked, leaned inside, said something, and beckoned Jenna and Liam in, closing the door behind them.

113. Tina

Tina cried out in pain when the car bumped over debris on the road. She placed a hand on the dashboard. “Will you please drive more carefully?”

“I’m trying.” Ajay’s voice sounded defensive, like a child falsely accused by a teacher.

“I’m sorry.” She winced. “It’s this fucking shoulder.”

He pulled the car up at the next lay-by and went into the boot, retrieving a medicine bottle. He waved it in front of her.

“What’s that?”

“You know what it is.”

“It will knock me out.”

“I’m sure that by the time you wake up, will be well on our way to North Wales. It’s up to you.” He handed her the bottle and raised his hands.

Tina took a swig of the foul-tasting medicine. “I’m really sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have been prying about your wife.”

“It’s fine.”

“What happened?”

He didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”

“It’s fine. It’s just difficult to talk about.” He took in a breath. “She was so smart, so funny. She used to read poems she had written and then burn them on the fire. She would always tell me that once I had heard them, no one else mattered.”

“That’s...that’s really sweet.” The fog washed over her. “I bet she was lovely.”

“She was. It was a skiing accident. There was nothing anyone could have done.”

“Skiing,” she said, dreamily. “I like snow.”

He placed a hand on her forearm as she closed her eyes. “Shh.”

114. Liam

The door clicked shut behind Liam and Jenna, leaving Michael to wait outside. Liam glanced around the examination room. A steel-framed bed stood flush against the left-hand wall. A desk with a lamp, papers, and computer monitor looked as if it had been squeezed into the far-right corner.

A woman wearing a bird mask turned towards them. “Take a seat.” She got to her feet and peeked between the blinds.

Liam went to sit, but Jenna grabbed his arm.

“We’ll stand,” she said.

“Suit yourself.” She turned to the couple, studying them from behind her mask.

Who did these weirdos think they were? What was with the masks? Why had they taken over Anglesey? He adjusted his weight and cleared his throat. “Are you the Director?”

The woman sniffed. “That’s what I do.”

Liam shared a confused look with Jenna and shrugged one shoulder.

Jenna stepped forward, her eyes narrowed, determined. “We’re looking for our son. Have you seen him?”

The Director examined her gloved hands. “Seen who?”

Liam’s fists tightened. “Don’t fuck us around. We’re searching for our boy. He’s four. He’s got curly, black hair, brown eyes.”

“He was wearing a blue dinosaur coat,” Jenna said.

The Director turned to them and laughed.

Liam frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s not funny. It’s tragic.”

Liam turned to Jenna. “Any idea what she’s talking about?”

“Please,” Jenna pleaded. “If you know anything—”

The Director let out a sigh. “The irresponsible parents who can’t look after their own son...” She shook her head. “It’s pathetic.”

Liam glared at her. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Liam, don’t.” Jenna raised her arm across Liam’s chest and turned her attention to the Director. “You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”

“You left that boy unsupervised. One of my colleagues found him.”

“Is he here?”

“He was trying to enter our Menai base.” She let out a mirthless laugh. “Can you imagine? We thought we’d secured the island and some little boy managed to slip inside. He could have been infected, and then our work would have been for nothing.”

Liam swallowed. “Well, we appreciate you looking after him. Where is he?”

“He’s perfectly safe. He was very hungry.” She let out a series of tuts. “Such neglect.”

“Excuse me?” Jenna folded her arms. “Neglect? We’re struggling to survive out here and—”

“I have no interest in stories or excuses.” The Director’s hand shot up in a silencing gesture. This was a woman who expected to get her own way. She reached for a plate of biscuits, offering one to Liam. “Hob Nob?”

Liam shook his head. “Where is Tommy?” He spoke slowly, deliberately, each word pregnant with intensity.

“He’s perfectly safe.” She snapped a biscuit down the middle and shook loose crumbs over the plate. Flipping up the mask’s bottom half, she nibbled on the biscuit.

“Where is he?” Liam stepped forward, a vein throbbing along his right temple.

The Director sighed and said something into her walkie-talkie. She turned to Liam. “Such anger.” She took another bite of biscuit and wiped her mouth with a tissue. “I think it would be remiss of me to return a child to a family who are unable to offer proper care. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“No.” Jenna shook her head, her eyes growing wide. “This is insane. You’re insane.”

“A family who let their child go hungry, who let him wander alone in the early hours of the morning. A family who clearly cannot control their emotions. I would fear for that boy’s future, I really would.” She took in a long breath through her nose, her gaze shifting slowly between them. “The boy stays with me.”

“You can’t do this.”

“I can. And, now, if I could ask you both to leave my island, that would be most appreciated.” She got to her feet and gestured to the door.

“You crazy bitch!” Jenna shot forward as the door flung open behind her. A pair of Doctors seized her, dragging her from the room, screaming and flailing. “I want my boy. Give me my boy back, you wizened fucking cunt.”

Doctors surrounded Liam, twisting his arms behind him, pressing rifles and pistols against his back, chest, head.

The Director got to her feet, raising her chin as Liam passed through the doorway. “Oh, and your boy seems very taken with our masks.”

115. Tina

Tina frowned when she woke up. Grogginess pressed against her skull. The car’s hazard lights clicked on and off, on and off. Orange light illuminated the roadblock ahead before retreating into the night.

She pulled up her fly and adjusted her top. Had someone been messing with her? A shiver ran along her arms as a breeze passed across her cheeks.

Her gaze fixed on the moon as eddying clouds tumbled by. She shook away her mind’s mist, trying to find her centre.

Shifting her attention to the driver’s seat, she noted Ajay was not there, the door stood half open, bringing wind in from the sea—the sea. Her gazed fixed on the Samaritans’ phone and followed the Menai Bridge extending over the water. “Shit.”

Where was Ajay?

Finding a sudden rush of alertness, she unclipped her seatbelt, turned off the hazard lights and got out, closing Ajay’s door and pocketing the keys.

Her flesh throbbed as she leaned into the back and retrieved her rucksack.

She narrowed her eyes at movement across the bridge.

Someone lay in the gutter. She approached to see a half-burned male cadaver lying on his front, stripped down to his underwear. An exit wound gaped at the back of his head. Buboes peppered his armpits.

She turned away and covered her mouth. “Oh, Jesus.”

She stared at Ajay’s corpse. How contagious was the disease?

Was she next?

She involuntarily checked around her armpits. She was clean, but would she be next?

Her mind whirred as she tried to recall all she could about the plague. Was this even the same disease? It was possible. But, then, what did she actually know for certain?

She studied Ajay again, her mind and body throbbing with numbness.

Should she cry?

She hadn’t known him very long, but he had brought her back to health. Pangs of guilt tugged at her gut. She had thought he was a kidnapper, rapist, or murderer. But he healed her.

Had being in the police so long jaded her to human kindness?

No, she had seen enough dark shit to be suspicious—or, at least, cautious. She was glad to have been proven wrong.

She returned to the car and snatched up the medicine bottle. She stared at the label. She could down the rest and bring an end to it all.

She wouldn’t have to deal with Michael, with the plague, with the world.

She laughed bitterly at the Samaritans’ phone. Why attempt an overdose at a known suicide spot? But, then, who would willingly drown themselves?

She needed to confront Michael.

She checked the glovebox and under the driver’s seat. Eventually, she found the pistol in the driver’s door. She took it and locked the car.

When she marched onto the bridge, a pair of masked men blocked her way. “This is a restricted area.”

“I think my husband’s over there. He’s called Michael.”

“I’m sure there’s a lot of people’s husbands over there.” The man cocked his rifle. “You have to leave.”

“Fine.”

She turned and ambled back to the car. Flipping open the boot, she grabbed a packet of custard creams from Ajay’s bag, sat on the passenger seat, and ate.

She watched and waited, watched and waited.

116. Michael

Michael leaned against the wall as a guard outside the Director’s office watched him through swimming goggles.

Liam and Jenna staggered from the office in a daze.

“Everything alright?”

The guard tapped Michael’s shoulder.

“What?”

“The Director wants to see you.”

Michael stiffened. Did she know about Norman? He figured that like most secret police, she would have spies watching spies. How could he be such an idiot? He should have been more careful.

Taking a deep breath, he weighed up his options. He could run. There was the guard and there were others behind him. There was no way he could blast his way out. He gestured to Liam. “Wait for me outside.”

Liam nodded and took Jenna’s hand.

Michael entered the office and frowned beneath his gas mask.

“Ah, Michael.” The Director turned on a swivel chair and met his gaze. “Those people you brought had made their way onto the island by boat. Have they been checked?”

He nodded. “They’re clean. They’re looking for their boy.”

“Hmm.” She tapped her fingers on the desk. “Well, I think they have outstayed their welcome.”

“Right.”

“You know what we do to people who outstay their welcome, don’t you?”

He shuffled awkwardly. “I think I can guess.”

“I would like you to take care of them please. The quarry should be sufficient.”

He dipped his head. “As you wish.”

––––––––

Michael patted the car roof as Jenna slipped onto the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt.

He closed the door behind Liam and took his seat at the steering wheel. Clicking his seatbelt, Michael pushed the ignition and reversed from the base, joining the road towards the quarry.

“What are we going to do?” Jenna asked.

“I don’t know,” Liam said. “We need to come up with a plan.”

“For what?” Michael asked.

“She’s got our boy,” Liam said.

Michael eyed him through the rear-view mirror. “Who’s got your boy?”

“That woman,” Jenna said.

“The Director?”

Jenna nodded.

“Fuck.” Michael stared ahead. Was that boy he’d seen in the Director’s office theirs?

Liam sat forward in his seat and gestured to the approaching gates. “Where are you taking us?”

Michael took in a long breath through his nose and sighed. “We’re here.”

117. Tina

Bells rang out around her, bringing Tina from a light sleep. The grogginess from the methadone had worn off. Her nerves prickled and her pulse thundered in the back of her head. She tried to ignore the burning around her shoulder.

What would she do if the wound got infected? When did you need to remove the stitches?

She had so many questions and Ajay was dead.

Grief would have to wait.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Had the drugs clouded her thoughts? How did she know Michael was even alive? What if he had already succumbed to the plague? What if, when he saw her, he would finish what he started? What if he had been indoctrinated by the Doctors? Who were they and why hadn’t she seen clues? Perhaps in those days at home he had become radicalised. Why had he shot her?

She had to know.

Leaving the car behind her, she crawled along the bridge, sneaking past the Doctors manning the roadblock. They didn’t have the training or discipline of the police—they were amateurs. This was going to be easy.

When she was sure they were out of view, she got up and ran, following the road west into the night.

118. Liam

Liam stepped from the car first and tugged at his beard. Bulldozers and trucks stood silent around him. A conveyer belt rose at a thirty-degree incline, framed in steel. A sheer rock-face loomed above a gravel pit, half-filled with black water.

Wind lashed around them, whistling through the dormant machines.

Their footsteps crunched on the gravel as the scent of wet stone and oil caught the breeze.

“Why’ve you brought us here?” Jenna asked.

Michael shook his head. “To come up with a plan.”

She let out a shuddering breath. “Why do I feel like you’re going to kill us?”

Michael sniffed. “They were my orders.”

Liam’s eyes widened. “You fucker.”

“I’m not going to kill you, for fuck’s sake. This has gone too far.” He met Liam’s gaze. “I promise you, I’m not a murderer.”

Liam’s gaze drifted towards the dark waters. He narrowed his eyes, sure he could just make out the shape of a body, its billowing white clothing just visible beneath the surface. And another.

He winced as cold sweat pressed on his body.

His mind told him to grab Jenna and run, but he found himself unable to move.

Jenna followed Liam’s gaze and gasped.

“That’s nothing to do with me,” Michael said. “You can blame the Director for that.”

Liam turned to him. “So why are we here? What do you want with us?”

“This is a quarry.” Michael stepped away from the pit. “I bet there’s all sorts of things we can use.”

Liam blinked. “If you think I can drive one of those things.” He nodded towards a yellow bulldozer. “It’s not going to happen, mate.”

Michael halted and stared back at Liam. “I don’t care what you think you can’t do. If that were my kid...” His voice trailed off as he spotted something on the ground. He reached down, dragging out a half-buried shovel.

“Won’t there be explosives, dynamite, that sort of thing?” Jenna asked. “Surely, we could find something like that.”

Resting the shovel on one shoulder, Michael raised a finger. “This is what I’m talking about, Liam. Listen to your missus. Think what we can do, not what you can’t.”

Liam shrugged. “Where are we going to find explosives?”

“We look,” Jenna snapped, walking on ahead.

Liam followed.

Passing diggers and dumper trucks, they reached a mobile building. Brown plastic coated the outer walls, its window frames coated in a creamy-yellow. Liam paced around the building, unsure of how to approach. “Think there’s anyone around?”

Michael glanced over his shoulder. “Doubt it. Anyone who was here was cleared-out.” He cupped his hands around his eyes and gazed through the windows.

“Is ‘cleared-out’ some kind of euphemism? Were those people back there ‘cleared-out?’”

“The Director killed anyone off the island who wasn’t helping.”

Liam laughed bitterly. “Helping? From what I’ve seen, they’re a bunch of nut-jobs.”

Michael shrugged. “When everything collapsed, we tried to stop the disease spreading. I thought I was helping. Turns out they had other plans.”

“What about in here?” Jenna stood in front of a steel shed and pointed to a sign showing a yellow and black sunburst. “Highly explosive.” She turned to Liam, smiling.

Liam jogged towards the steel shed, its walls rising in corrugated lines, its dusty base making way for a gleaming navy-blue surface. “It’s locked.” He rattled the padlock. “Looks like it’s a cheap lock though.”

“Stand back.” Michael strode forward, swung the shovel in a swift downward arc, staggering back when the padlock smashed into several pieces on the ground.

Liam opened the door and waited for the dust to clear. “We’re in business.”

119. Liam

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Liam stood from the car and raked a hand across his hair. He stared at the house where they had recovered the girl and shook his head. “We should find somewhere else. I don’t like this place.”

Michael glanced at the house and nodded. “I bet he had that girl in there for a while.” He glanced along the road. “I can’t imagine anyone’s checking up on this end though.”

“What are we going to do about the stuff in the car?” Jenna gave Michael an unsure look.

“We’ll leave the stuff there. Not worth the risk of it going off inside.” He strode towards the door, shouldering his way into the house.

Liam followed him inside and they stood at the foot of the stairs, staring at Norman Baines’ broken body. “We can’t leave him here.”

“What do you suggest?” Michael curled his lip. “Bury him?”

“You’ve got a spade.”

“It’s a shovel. And I’m not digging a fucking grave. He doesn’t deserve a burial.”

“Well, we can’t leave him here.” Jenna placed a hand on her hip.

“We’ll take it next door.” Michael crouched by the body, grabbing it beneath the shoulders. Groaning, he glanced up at Liam. “Don’t just stand there—grab the feet.”

Liam nodded, and gripped the body’s ankles, taking the dead weight as Michael backed outside and dropped the body onto the front garden. What the hell was happening? Why was he helping this guy dispose of a corpse? How could he explain what happened if someone caught him? “Wait, where are you going?”

“For a quick recce. I won’t be a sec.”

Keeping hold of the ankles, Liam stood and waited. How did he end up here?

“Where do you think that girl went?” Jenna asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Liam started and released his grip. The corpse’s feet thudded to the ground. “Who knows?”

“Hope she’s alright.” She let out a sigh. “Everything’s so fucked-up.”

“Could be worse...” He stared down at the mask, half-twisted around the dead man’s face, dried blood coating his flesh. “I say, about to dispose of a corpse.” He shook his head and met his wife’s gaze. “What the fuck?”

Jenna laughed.

“This is fucked-up, isn’t it?” He took a step backwards. “I mean, this is just insane, isn’t it?”

“Best not to think about that. All I’m thinking about is Tommy. Nothing else matters.”

“Round the back.” Michael gestured behind him as he jogged towards Liam. They lifted the body, and Michael led them behind the next house.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a bin back there.” Michael signalled over his shoulder.

Liam stopped. “You can’t put him in a bin.”

“You want to dig?”

“No.”

“I’m all ears then. What’s your great idea?”

“I...I don’t know. It’s just—”

“Come on. Let’s just focus on getting this done.”

“I mean—”

“You saw what this guy did. He can fucking rot with the rest of the rubbish.”

Halting next to the wheelie bin, Michael flipped the lid and dragged out a black refuse sack, tossing it onto the grass, empty tins and chicken bones spilling out. They lifted the body, awkwardly pushing their weight against the bin. The corpse landed face-first, a hollow thud echoing inside.

Michael prodded at the legs, bending them against the stiffness, pressing down on the lid.

Brushing the sweat from his forehead with a sleeve, Liam let out a deep breath. “This is so wrong.”

“We don’t have time for funeral arrangements. It’s about being practical. Let’s just get inside and work out how we’re going to do this.”

Jenna sidled up to him and took his hand. “You alright?”

“Fine.”

“You managed okay then?”

He glanced at the bin and shook his head. “I guess.”

“Come on. There’s a generator and a kettle. Let’s make a hot drink.”

“That sounds great.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

“As you said, we just need to focus on Tommy. This stuff can haunt me later.”

“Whatever that guy did, you know it was bad. You shouldn’t feel anything for that.”

Liam gave a quick shrug. “I don’t know what’s right anymore.”

Jenna squeezed his hand. “Yes, you do.”

Back inside the house, Liam took a seat on a stool in the kitchen and rested his elbows on the worktop.

After a few minutes, the generator hummed and the striplight flickered to life. He grinned at the pair of water cooler bottles resting on the opposite counter.

Michael ran to the blinds, pulling them down, and slammed the kitchen door shut.

Searching through the cupboards, Jenna took out a half filled jar of instant coffee and boiled the kettle.

Liam listened as the water heated, the bubbling, the white noise. Steam rose from the kettle and something clicked. He watched Jenna pouring the drinks, stirring them with a teaspoon.

Tiny chips lay around the mug’s rim. Liam cradled the warmth and sniffed at the coffee, its aroma bringing to mind the hospital waiting room, his mother’s death...everything.

Had someone stuffed his mother’s body into a bin for convenience? And what about Sandra? They rarely saw eye-to-eye, but no one deserved to be shot and left at the roadside like an abandoned sofa.

Jenna place a hand on his back, warm and gentle. How could such a simple action seem so loving? He stared into the black liquid, his vision blurring through tears.

“Liam?”

He blinked up at her. “What?”

“What do you reckon?”

He stared ahead, his gaze shifting to Michael. “Sorry, I was miles away.”

“I was saying, we get up at first light, head back to Llanfair PG and take out their security buildings. If we cause enough of a stink, you can go in and get your boy out.”

“Tommy.” Jenna slipped onto the stool next to Liam.

“Your kid, whatever. Either way, we work together, and end this.”

120. Tina

Tina shuffled along the roadside, her stomach rumbling, her legs aching.

She needed more methadone, but addiction loomed if she wasn’t careful.

Why had she followed Michael here? She wasn’t thinking straight. Perhaps it was the drugs clouding her mind. But she had to know.

She needed answers.

She wanted revenge.

121. Liam

A shake to his shoulder brought Liam from his sleep. Night pressed against the window. It took him a moment to remember where he was. He started at the sight of Michael leaning over him.

“You two sleep alright?”

Liam rolled over on the battered sofa, his coat sliding from him and dropping to the floor. Neck bones popping, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve had better nights.” He licked the dryness from his lips and stretched his arms over his head.

“I’ve done you a coffee. Black alright?”

“That’s great.”

“There’s some spaghetti on the hob.”

Liam got up and yawned. “What’s the deal with the loo?”

“Pour some water into the cistern after we’ve washed up.” He left the room and went through to the kitchen.

“Hey,” Jenna said sleepily. “Did I hear something about coffee?”

“Yeah, Michael’s sorting some spaghetti.”

Jenna slid her legs off the sofa and smoothed down loose strands of her hair. “For breakfast?”

Liam smiled. “It’s warm.”

“Warm’s good.” She rolled her neck, her hands dropping to her side.

“What’s up?”

“Today.”

Liam sat on the sofa next to her and forced a smile. “If it’s any consolation, I’m shit-scared too.”

Jenna laughed. “We’re going to get him back, aren’t we?”

“Whatever it takes.” Holding her hands, he gazed down at their wedding rings, watching the play of light on gold. He kissed her finger, holding them next to his lips. “Whatever it takes.”

Michael leaned around the door with a pair of mugs in his hands. “Sorry, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Liam shook his head and got up. “No, mate. It’s fine.” He took the coffees, handing one to Jenna. “Thanks.”

“Breakfast’s just about ready.” Michael returned to the kitchen.

Liam turned to Jenna. “Whatever happens, we’ll be there for each other.”

“All the way.” She downed the coffee and got up. “Shall we?”

Liam nodded and walked through to the kitchen, resting his mug on the sticky worktop.

Michael nodded towards a couple of plates of steaming tinned spaghetti. “Got no toast to go with it, I’m afraid.”

“Seriously, this is great.” Liam slid onto a stool and grabbed the spoon. He scooped the spaghetti into his mouth, savouring the warmth.

Jenna sat next to him and they ate in silence.

Swallowing his last mouthful, Michael got up and switched on the kettle. When it boiled, he poured the water into a grey plastic washing-up bowl, and squirted the remnants of some own-brand washing-up liquid inside. “Just drop your plates in here when you’re done.”

Wiping the sauce from his plate with a finger, Liam placed the plate into the bowl, cringing at the water’s heat.

“Do what you need to in the bathroom, and we’ll head out.” Michael set a clean plate on the draining board, bubbles dripping onto a stainless-steel frame.

A prickle of nerves spread across Liam’s arms and neck, electric ripples turning his skin to gooseflesh. He ambled slowly to the bathroom and sat on the toilet for several minutes. Nothing happened. He started at a knock at the door.

“You alright?” Jenna asked.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Do I need to be worried?”

“No.” Yanking his jeans up, he walked over to the door and squeezed through the gap.

“That was a joke. You know, I was nervously anticipating a bad smell.”

Liam blinked. “Sorry. Head’s not with it.”

“You sure you’re going to be okay?”

He nodded and slipped from the bathroom, clicking the door shut behind him. “Just worried, I guess.”

“You two ready?” Michael called up the stairs.

“Just a minute.” Jenna kissed Liam on the cheek and stepped past him into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Michael tossed his car keys between his hands, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot.

Liam joined him at the bottom of the stairs.

“You got everything?”

Liam glanced into the sitting room and fetched his bag and cricket bat. “I have now.”

Michael headed outside to the car when Jenna made her way downstairs.

Closing the door behind him, Liam followed Jenna to the blue Polo and sat on the passenger seat, Jenna sitting in the back. “Seatbelt.”

Liam smirked. “We’ve got a car filled with explosives, and you’re worried about me fastening my seatbelt?” He shook his head, bringing the seatbelt across his chest and clicking it into place.

“She’s right.” Michael started the engine. “No point in adding to risk.”

Rolling his eyes, Liam stared from the window, dipping his head to glimpse the house in the wing mirror. “That’s me told.”

“We’ll get those things laid out before the sun comes up properly. All being well, we should cause enough of a diversion that you can find your kid and get him out of there.” The car rolled slowly along the road.

“Then what?” Jenna leaned between the front seats.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we need to figure out what we do after that.”

Michael shrugged. “Liam?”

“We get back to the boat, I guess. I suppose we could try to find somewhere nearer Holyhead way, or maybe head to somewhere like the Isle of Man.”

Jenna sat back. “There won’t be enough fuel in the boat for that.”

“Maybe we could siphon some.”

“That could work.” She leaned forward again. “Any chance we can go a bit faster?”

Michael shook his head. “We’ve got enough dynamite back there to blow up half-a-mountain. I’m not going any faster.”

Jenna let out a sigh and slumped back.

Liam closed his eyes. After a few minutes, he opened them again, sensing the car coming to a halt. The first hints of light crested the eastern sky.

“Here will have to do.” Michael drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and studied the sky. “At least it’s dry.”

Liam rubbed his beard. “How are we going to do this?”

“Like I said. Follow me. We’ll get the explosives set out around the barriers. Then, boom!”

“Right.”

Jenna got out first. They walked around to the car’s rear, and Michael opened the boot. He handed a crate each to Liam and Jenna.

“I sorted the fuses last night, so we just need to get them into position. Just make sure you don’t snap them. And, for the love of God, try not to drop them.”

Liam swallowed and tried not to think about the explosives in his hands. “Okay.”

Michael inclined his head. “You sure you can do this? You’re looking a bit pale there.”

“Don’t worry about me, mate. I’ll be fine.” He took in a deep, cleansing breath, closing his eyes for a long moment, and exhaled.

“You coming?” Jenna walked on ahead, her spine arched back as she carried the crate in front of her.

Knuckles turning white, he nodded, and followed.

When they reached the fence, everything was dark and still, the security barrier unmanned.

Michael directed them silently, gesturing towards the shadows.

Had Michael done this sort of thing before? He seemed confident at leading. Perhaps he was a soldier or police. Maybe he was special forces and a complete badass when it came to this kind of thing.

Liam lowered the crate next to the security booth and pried off the lid, setting it aside. Groping inside, he unravelled the length of fuse, and walked backwards with it, making his way towards Michael and Jenna.

Michael took the fuse. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll get these lit. No point in hanging about.” He glanced around and took a lighter from his pocket, kneeling to light the fuse.

After a few seconds, the fuses sparked, tiny orbs making their slow progression towards the explosives.

Michael yanked Liam’s arm and they ran.

“How far do we need to be?” Liam asked.

“I don’t know.”

Stumbling, Liam’s ankle twisted beneath him, sending him chin-first to the road. A jolt of pain spread up his legs and face, filling his vision with white spots.

Hesitating, Michael’s eyes darted between the fuses and Liam. “Cover yourself. That thing’s about to blow.” He dived next to Liam and covered his head with his hands.

Liam curled up, defending his head, cringing at the throbbing of his ankle and jaw. “Jenna!”

“I’m here,” she whispered, holding him.

They waited, bracing themselves, breath held tight, muscles locked. After several seconds, Liam opened his eyes. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Michael muttered. “Something went wrong.”

Liam sat up, holding his leg and gritting his teeth against the pain. “What are we going to do?”

“I’m going to set fire to those crates.”

“What if they go off?” Jenna asked.

“That’s the point.” He turned to Liam. “Think you can walk on that?”

Liam shrugged. “Help me up.” He held out his arms, letting Jenna and Michael pull him to his feet. A bolt of pain shot up his leg when he tried to put his foot down. He grunted, his breath deepening, sweat pooling along his back.

Headlights shone from beyond the fence.

“Shit.” Michael frowned. “We’ve been spotted.” Turning, he ran towards the car and bolted inside.

“Hold my shoulder,” Jenna said.

Leaning on his wife, Liam hopped at her side, a van’s engine roaring behind them.

“Come on!” Michael started the car. “Get in.”

Liam glanced behind him, shadows swarming around the crates, barrier opening, van moving forward.

Jenna opened the back door and shoved him inside, slamming the door behind him, rushing around to the passenger seat. “Drive!”

Wheels screeching, Michael turned the car around, dirt flying behind them.

Liam rolled against the backseat, his body tensing with the acceleration as the car rocketed forward, suspension groaning beneath him as the car bumped and bounced. He caught glimpses of telephone wires dipping and rising along the roadside, the flash of headlights through the rear mirror.

“Hold on.” Michael skidded, sending the car in a half-loop.

Jenna let out a scream. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to lose them.”

122. Tina

Staggering forward, Tina stopped at the sight of a navy-blue Polo racing towards her.

Her eyes narrowed at the sight of her husband in the driver’s seat.

Who was that woman at his side?

What the fuck was going on?

As the car passed, she gave chase.

123. Liam

The car hurtled along winding roads, tyres bouncing on potholes. He turned the car all the way around. Liam recognised a house they’d just passed.

After a few minutes, Michael brought the car to a stop and got out, slamming the door behind him.

Liam tapped Jenna on the shoulder. “What’s he doing?”

“I think we’ve lost the van.”

Michael knocked on the window. “You coming?” The glass muffled his voice.

Jenna opened the door and helped Liam out. He placed an arm around her, cringing as he tested his weight.

“You think it’s broken?”

“I don’t know.”

Jenna helped him back into the house and set him down on the sofa. “You can put it up. Keep the weight off.”

Michael paced around, agitated. “I can’t believe it didn’t work.”

“We can try again.” Liam closed his eyes, trying not to cry out with the pain.

“On your gimpy leg?”

Jenna stopped and glared at Michael. “Watch how you’re talking to my husband. We’re going to get Tommy back, whatever it takes.”

“Whatever you say. Let’s just think about how we can regroup, come up with a new plan.”

124. Tina

Catching her breath, Tina crept along the pavement and placed a hand on the Polo’s bonnet, its engine still warm.

She scanned the row of terraced houses. Michael was inside one of them.

Crouching next to the car, she watched for movement, for any hints of her husband.

He was here. Somewhere.

She checked her pistol and took in a shuddering breath.

It was definitely him.

A door opened.

She peeked past the car’s bonnet and froze at the sight of Michael leaving the house.

He marched towards her, seemingly oblivious to her presence.

Her finger twitched on the pistol’s trigger.

Michael opened the car’s boot and rummaged inside.

She got up slowly and took a wide arc around him.

Reaching Michael’s back, she jabbed the pistol against the base of his neck. “Hello, duck.”

Michael stiffened and raised his hands. “Tina?”

“Expecting someone else?”

“Tina. Wait.” Michael backed away from the car with his hands up. “I’m going to turn to you. Please, don’t do—” He spun around, catching Tina off guard and knocking the gun from her hand.

He stamped down on the pistol and met her gaze. “Let me explain.”

“No.”

“Tina, please. I love you.”

She shook her head. “You tried to kill me.”

“No. It wasn’t like that. I swear it. If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.”

Her jaw tensed. “Shit.”

“You’ve got to believe—” Michael stopped at the approaching rumble.

Tina turned to follow his gaze.

125. Liam

Jenna kneeled at Liam’s side, his injured leg supported by the sofa’s arm.

“How’s it looking?” He took in a sharp breath, wincing at her touch.

“It’s pretty swollen. Can you rotate it?”

He rolled his foot, gritting his teeth as sparks of pain shot along his calf and ankle. How the hell was he supposed to get Tommy back from that woman if he couldn’t put weight on his feet? He hated the thought of what she was teaching his son—every second Tommy spent with her would poison his mind.

“I don’t think it’s broken.” She looked around, a deep line pressing down on her brow. “Maybe we can wrap it up. You probably need to keep it elevated.”

He leaned up on his elbows, glaring at her. “I can’t do that. If you’re expecting me to sit on my arse back here while Tommy’s God knows where with those freaks...”

“What are you saying?” She waved her hands. “You think we’re going back to their base with you hobbling around?”

“That’s the plan.” He turned and dropped his feet onto the floor, trying his best not to growl.

“No. We need to rethink.”

“There must be something we can do.”

“Probably. But you’ll hold us back if we need to move quickly.”

“I’m not going to sit on the side-lines.”

“You don’t need to be a fucking hero, Liam.”

He glared at her. “We need to get our son. This isn’t about posturing, this is about getting our son back from those freaks.”

Jenna dragged a T-shirt from her bag, tearing it into strips.

He frowned at her. “What are you doing?”

Without responding, she wrapped the first strip around his ankle, tying it off in a knot.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

“You need to rest.”

“I’m getting Tommy back.”

Jenna shook her head. “You’ve got nothing to prove. You’ll only be a hindrance.”

“A hindrance? With what? Have you even got a plan?”

Jenna shifted her weight, getting to her feet. “No plans. Not yet.” She raised a hand when Liam went to speak, signalling for silence.

“What is it?” Liam whispered.

“Rumbling.” She pulled the cricket bat from Liam’s rucksack and crept over to the window, peeking around the curtain.

She glanced back over her shoulder. “Michael’s talking to someone.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” She stepped back from the window. “Shit!”

126. Tina

The thunderous noise roared towards Tina.

Metal screeched and crumpled as the dirty yellow bulldozer set another car hurtling off the road.

Caterpillar tracks rolled, clacking against the ground.

Tina dived for cover.

“You’re dead!” A scream erupted from the bulldozer’s cabin. “You filthy plague doctor!”

The vehicle turned towards Michael.

He stood, frozen in place, his mouth open.

Tina jerked him aside and raised her pistol to the driver. “Don’t you move any closer.” She tilted her head to one side as she took in the girl’s features, estimating her to be no older than sixteen.

The bulldozer ground to a halt.

“It’s her,” Michael said.

Tina crept forward, her eyes meeting the trembling girl. “It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“I thought he was one of them.” The girl wiped her tear-streaked face.

Michael stepped forward. “It’s me. I helped you. Remember?”

The girl nodded.

Tina looked between Michael and the girl, her gaze resting on Michael. “What the fuck is going on?”

127. Liam

“You should sit down,” Jenna said.

Liam stood on one leg and watched through the window as Michael spoke to the woman and the driver.

Jenna’s jaw dropped and gestured to the bulldozer. “It’s that girl.”

“What girl?” He caught a glimpse of her climbing down from the cabin. “Oh.”

“I wonder where she went?”

Liam shrugged. “To get a bulldozer, it seems.”

Jenna shook her head. “How would a girl know how to drive a bulldozer?”

Liam sniffed. “I could ask you the same about lifeboats.” He limped back over to the sofa and put his feet back up. “Any idea who the other one is?”

Jenna turned to him. “How would I know?”

“Just wondering.”

“We should get them inside.”

Liam nodded. “Yeah.”

128. Michael

Michael smiled awkwardly at Tina across the table while Jenna served plates of fried eggs, beans, ham, and potato waffles.

He hated the way Tina stared a hole into him. How could he explain everything to her? Did he even know himself? When he pulled the trigger, he was saving face, doing the only thing he could to ensure her survival. But for what? To save face with a pair of those Doctors?

He twitched a smile at the girl. She stared ahead listlessly. It made his skin crawl to think what that pervert had done to her.

Liam sat hunched and staring at his hands.

Michael looked back over the past two weeks, hell, the past year—a catalogue of mistakes, a litany of regrets, things he wished he could take back but could not. He let out a long sigh.

Tina narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Just thinking about mistakes, you know?”

“Let’s not do this thing here.”

Liam cleared his throat. “So, how do you two know each other?”

Tina remained silent, her gaze penetrating.

“She’s my wife.”

Tina sniffed.

Michael swallowed and nodded thanks when Jenna placed the plate before him. “At least I hope she is.”

Jenna sat the other side of Liam and placed a hand on his. “It’s like the last supper.”

“Let’s hope not,” Liam said. “Last thing we need is someone betraying us.”

Michael clapped his hands together and picked up his fork. “So, what’s the plan?”

Liam tugged his beard and frowned. “All I want to do is get Tommy as far away from those creepy fuckers as I can.”

“I get that,” Michael said. “We can cover you while you and your missus get your boy back.”

“Jenna,” Liam said.

“Huh?”

“She’s called Jenna.”

“Jenna, right. I knew that.” Michael nodded to himself. “I can give you covering fire, set up a few distractions.”

“I’ll come with you,” Tina said.

“Okay, so that’s me and Tina.”

Michael turned to the girl. “What about you?”

She gave a shrug.

“Don’t you think she’s been through enough?” Jenna said.

“I’m just trying to put a plan together. See what we’re working with.”

“Hmm.” Liam stared at him with steepled fingers.

Michael dabbed his mouth. “Everything okay?”

“I’m just wondering about you. You were one of them.”

Tina turned to him. “You’re a Doctor?”

“No.” Michael shook his head. “I want to take those fuckers out as much as you do. I’m police.”

“Were,” Tina muttered.

A wave of regret washed over him. “I came out here because I thought...” He blinked and stared up at the ceiling. “I thought the Doctors were making a difference. There’s a plague out there killing God knows how many people. I thought I could help.”

Tina let out an incredulous laugh. “By running around in fetish gear?”

Michael shifted in his seat. “It’s the closest thing I had to a hazmat suit.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It worked.”

“So, why the change of heart?” Liam tilted his head. “How do we know this isn’t some weird plot?”

“It’s not.” Michael opened his palms. “Trust me.”

Liam exchanged a look with Jenna and they shrugged at each other.

“So, what was it?” Liam pressed.

Michael puffed out a breath. “I guess I didn’t really know what I was getting into. I thought I was helping. I think they’re a cult, or something.”

Liam cocked an eyebrow. “This is a religion thing?”

“As far as I can tell. They’ve got the funny costumes and rituals down. The Director’s running this thing like a dictatorship. She tried to get me to be one of her spies.”

“Like the type of spy who’d infiltrate—”

Plates rattled when Michael slammed a fist down. “That’s not me.”

The girl shot from her chair.

Michael forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I guess you’re a bit jumpy.”

Jenna nodded. “I guess we all are.” She turned to the girl. “It’s alright. Please. No one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe here.”

She nodded and returned slowly to her seat.

Liam held Michael’s gaze. “So, you just got swept up with the Doctors?”

Michael shrugged a shoulder. “I guess. I just wanted to help. I wanted to do the right thing.”

“Well, I’d say stopping those fuckers is the right thing.”

“I agree,” Michael said. “That’s what I’m going to do. I’ll help you get your kid back, I promise. But I need you to trust me.” He turned to Tina. “And I need you to trust me too.”

She folded her arms and turned away.

“I’m sorry.”

She turned to him. “Excuse me? Did you just say you were sorry?”

“I...yes.”

“I think that might be the first time you’ve ever apologised...for anything.”

“That’s not true...is it?”

She nodded. “It is, duck.”

“I’ll help.”

Everyone turned to the girl.

“Are you sure?” Jenna asked.

The girl nodded.

“What’s your name?” Liam asked.

“Ceri.” She gestured to the window. “We need to take these bastards down.”

129. Liam

Liam heaved himself up onto the bulldozer’s step and limped along the caterpillar track, trying his best to keep his balance. If he was going to get Tommy back, he had to get past the pain. He grabbed the cabin door handle and pulled. “It’s locked.”

Ceri frowned up at him, shaking her head. “It’s not.” She spoke with a Welsh accent. “You need to really pull it.”

Jerking the handle, the door opened on stiff hinges. He climbed into the cabin and lowered himself onto the seat. The faint pine air freshener did little to mask the stink of leather and sweat.

His gaze swept across the assorted switches and levers, his confidence evaporating. “This is why I studied journalism. There’s no way I can get my head around all this.”

Ceri swung the door all the way open, clicking it in place against the bulldozer’s side. She leaned inside the cabin. “It’s easy. I did it.”

Liam rubbed his beard. If a teenage girl could use a bulldozer, then he definitely could...surely.

“That’s your emergency brake. You don’t want to pull that unless you really need to.” She pointed to the ignition. “That’s your key. It’s just like a car.”

“What about these?” Liam gestured to levers at either side of his seat.

“This one on your left moves you forward and back. You can use it to turn.” She pointed to the other. “That one moves your diggy-thing.”

“The blade?”

Ceri shrugged. “I wondered what they were called.”

“It moves more than the other one.”

“Yeah, I think you can move the diggy-thing in different directions. If you use that thumb thing, you can make it tip.”

“What about this.” Liam pointed to a knob.

“Throttle. Turn it all the way up and you’re good.”

He glanced down at another lever at his right. “What’s this do?”

“I tried it. Didn’t seem to do anything.”

“Right.”

“What about these gauges?” He ran a finger along a trio of needles protected by glass.

“I don’t know. All I know is you point it forward and turn when you need to.”

“How do you slow down?”

“Pull back. Turn the throttle. Either worked for me.”

“Why not the brake?”

“It just stops everything. It threw me forward.”

“Mind if I try it?”

“It’s all yours. Turn the key.”

Liam turned the ignition, the gauges sweeping to the right. A loud beep emanated from the panel. “What the hell?” The noise stopped and he glanced at the dials, not really sure what they meant.

“It does that.”

The engine shook the cabin, creating a low rumbling hum. “At least it works.” Liam had to raise his voice over the noise. He stared through the window, watching Jenna for a moment as she kneeled next to a yellow Nissan Micra’s fuel tank.

Ceri pointed to a switch by Liam’s right shoulder. “That’s like your handbrake. Except it’s a switch.”

“Right.” He nodded to himself, one hand gripping the lever to his left. “Back and forward. Blade. Throttle. Brake.” He squinted at Jenna’s approach. She held something in her hands.

“You’ll need to press it.” Ceri dropped from the track and stepped back from the road.

He pushed the brake and opened the throttle. He ran his hand over his hair and took in a breath. Knuckles turning white, he pushed the left lever and the bulldozer rocked forward. He grinned at the rolling tracks. He actually did it.

His grin turned to a smile. He tested the controls, bringing the vehicle right and then left. He pushed more and the bulldozer spun on its tracks, gradually facing back the way he came. “This is great!” The tracks rumbled along the road. He pulled back on the lever, bringing it to a halt.

Taking the other lever, he raised the blade up and down, testing its range of movements. He leaned from the cabin to see Ceri smiling. “I think I’ve got it.”

He smiled down at Jenna. She raised a pair of glass milk bottles, dark liquid sloshing around inside. Liam tilted his head. “What are they?”

Her eyes moved between the bottles. “Molotov cocktails.”

“You ready?”

She nodded.

130. Liam

Liam gazed down at Jenna from the bulldozer’s cabin as she walked along its side. “You sure you don’t want to come up?”

“It’s too jiggly.”

“Jiggly’s good.” Liam grinned.

Jenna glared up at him. “You think this is any time to be making comments like that?”

He nodded. “Yep. It’s the perfect time. That barrier’s not too far away.”

She sighed. “We need to focus on Tommy.”

“Believe me, I am.” He shook his head and glanced up at the red sky. “I’m just nervous, okay? Thought a joke might lighten the mood a bit.”

Jenna came to a stop. “We’re here.”

Without saying a word, Liam gave a signal to Michael before pushing the bulldozer to full speed.

The cabin juddered around him.

He raised the bulldozer’s blade and smashed through the security barrier.

Heading straight along the road, he glanced back over his shoulder as Jenna lit the first Molotov cocktail, the rag catching with an iridescent burst.

Arcing from Jenna’s hand, the bottle somersaulted through the air, crashing through the security building’s window.

A roar of flames and screams burst from inside.

Liam turned, pushing forward as shadows emerged from buildings.

A white transit van skidded to a halt ahead, blocking the road.

Tilting the blade, he drove into the van, not stopping as people ran this way and that. The scream of twisted metal. The stench of burning plastic.

A bullet ricocheted off the cabin’s side, the white-hot spark burning bright against Liam’s retinas.

A masked man clawed at the cabin, driving his fist against the Plexiglas.

Liam reached behind him for his cricket bat. It stood wedged between the seat and the rear window.

The door flew open.

The masked man dived towards Liam, fists flailing.

Liam elbowed him, once, twice.

The man dropped to the asphalt, screaming and clutching his face.

131. Michael

Michael crouched next to the transit van, drew his pistol, and opened fire. The stink of burned rubber and singed hair filled the air.

Flames tore from the building to his left as he watched Jenna running forward.

He lit a stick of dynamite.

“What you doing?” Tina asked, grabbing his arm.

“Taking out those.” He pointed to the trucks and vans along the car park and threw the dynamite as hard as he could.

“Behind you,” Tina called.

Michael turned and shot a Doctor aiming a rifle at him.

The dynamite boomed.

Everything fell silent.

Michael’s ears rang.

He staggered forward, crouching for cover.

Something hot tore through his chest.

Tina let off shots next to him.

A vehicle exploded.

Michael slumped to the ground.

“Mike.” Tina shook his shoulders. “Mike!”

He placed his hands on his chest and stared down at the blood, blinking wordlessly.

132. Liam

Liam’s head rocked when the bulldozer shifted aside a pair of parked cars and turned into the medical centre’s car park.

A steel bollard bent under the bulldozer’s weight.

Flames reflected on glass.

Something exploded behind him.

“Jenna? Jenna!”

Holding his breath, the bulldozer lumbered on, crashing through the double-doors, wood cracking, splintering, ceiling tiles falling, glass shattering.

He dropped to the ground, the sound of screams behind him.

Jenna grabbed his hand. “Come on!”

133. Michael

Michael spat blood, his awareness fading. “Leave me.” He wheezed in a breath. “Go.”

Tina crouched next to him and shot another Doctor. “I’m not leaving you.”

“It’s over. I’m done. I’m sorry.”

“No.” She heaved him to his feet. “No.”

“I’m sorry I shot you...I...They were going to kill you. It was the only thing—”

“You don’t need to do this. Save your strength.”

“No.” He reached towards her. “I shot you where it would do the least damage. I need you to...understand...please.”

“I understand.”

Another explosion shook around him.

The world lurched in a blur.

“We need to go.”

“No...I...I can end this...”

Tina stood back, horror filling her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going in.” He lit a stick of dynamite, and a second, and a third. “Run. I love you.” He charged into the medical centre.

A bullet tore through his thigh.

He crumpled to the ground and the dynamite rolled from his hands.

134. Liam

Liam started at the explosions as dust rained from the ceiling.

With one hand on Jenna’s shoulder, Liam hobbled across the empty waiting room. Flames threw orange ripples into the gloom.

Glass crunched underfoot as gunfire and screams echoed around him.

“Where was it?” He scanned the reception, confusion setting in.

“This way.” Jenna dragged him along a reception area barricaded behind a glass window, tiny air holes catching the light.

The stench of filth and smoke cloyed in Liam’s throat.

“Oh, Jesus.” Jenna covered her nose. “There are people dying out there.”

“Let’s get Tommy and get out of here.”

They followed a corridor into the yawning darkness.

Jenna stopped and raised a hand, her fingers brushing against Liam’s nose.

“What is it?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Shh.”

They stood, listening to the muffled sounds of voices, of laughing—a child’s laughter. “It’s Tommy!”

“He’s here?” Liam’s words caught in his throat.

Jenna reached forward and turned the Director’s door handle. “It’s locked.”

Liam rolled his shoulders, shifting the rucksack’s straps. “Try knocking.”

She shook her head, shrugged, and banged on the door with the side of her fist. “Open up!”

They waited, exchanged glances, and Liam lunged forward, charging at the door shoulder-first.

135. Tina

Tina held Michael in her arms, leaning over him, rocking, sobbing. “Stay with me. Please.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She pressed a finger gently to his lips. “Don’t. Save your energy.” She stared ahead, taking in the chaos. “We can get help.”

Michael shook his head. “Too late. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...it was the only way. They would have killed you. I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

His body went limp.

“Michael. Please!” She shook him. “I forgive you.”

“Please.” She kissed his forehead and closed his dead eyes. “I love you.”

136. Liam

Liam staggered into the Director’s office. Something in his shoulder popped. He leaned against the wall, wounds throbbing, and tried to catch his breath.

“Daddy!” Tommy emerged from behind the Director’s cloak, dressed in leather, his face obscured by a twisted crow mask.

Jenna stepped forward. “Tommy!”

“I see you and your friends have been trying to cause trouble for our operation. Do you have any idea the damage you’ve done, the amount of lives you’re going to cost?” She slid a pistol from beneath her cloak and set it on the desk, sitting down on her chair.

“We just want our son.” Liam cringed as pain shot across his shoulders and ribs. “That’s all we want. Whatever’s going on out there isn’t our concern.”

“I have already explained why I’ve taken Bobby into my custody. You cannot be trusted as parents. He doesn’t want to be with you, do you, Bobby?” She stroked his hair.

“His name is Tommy.” Jenna spoke through gritted teeth, her eyes wild, intense. The last time Liam had seen that expression was when she was in labour.

“I’m a Doctor, Daddy.”

Liam sneered and wiped blood from his mouth. “I can’t let you do this.”

“Because of you,” the Director said, “our mission to stop the spread of this disease has been put back significantly. I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were irresponsible, but this...” She shook her head and glanced down at her gloved hands. “Your actions will cause so many deaths.”

“Tommy, come on.” Jenna reached out to him.

“He doesn’t want to go back to you, do you, Bobby? You want to stay with me and be the best Doctor you can be, don’t you?”

“Please,” Liam pleaded. “We just want him back and we’ll leave Anglesey.”

The Director pushed herself to her feet. “Let’s play a little game, shall we?”

Jenna moved over to Liam, taking his hand. “What kind of game?”

“The kind of game where Bobby gets to choose.” She shrugged a shoulder and ran a finger along her pistol’s barrel. “It wouldn’t be right for me to take custody of him if he’d rather return to his biological parents.”

Jenna shook her head slowly. “You’re a monster.”

“I’m giving him a choice. It’s only fair.” She crouched next to Tommy, stroking his hair. “What do you say, Bobby? Do you want to go back to your old, boring life with these two, or stay with me and all your new friends? Look at all the nice things I’ve already given you—your mask, your biscuits—you liked those, didn’t you?”

Liam spread his arms. “Come on, little buddy. We love you.”

Tommy hesitated. His gaze shifted between his mum, dad, and the Director, his mask’s beak pointing at each of them in turn.

The Director rose to her feet, her hand drifting towards the pistol. “You need to choose now, Bobby.”

“Tommy, please.” Jenna kneeled before him. “We love you. I’m your mum. I love you so much. Please.” She wiped her tears on a sleeve, opened her arms, and offered him a warm smile.

Tommy ran forward and wrapped his arms around the Director’s legs.

“Tommy, no!” Liam could hardly breathe. The world spun around him. How could Tommy choose her over his parents—parents who raised and loved him? It was all too much.

“He has made his choice. Now, I’ll ask you to kindly leave the island.”

“Fuck that.” Jenna snatched the cricket bat from Liam’s bag, lunged forward, and swung it down on the Director’s head.

The pistol went off.

A bullet shot into the wall.

Liam grabbed Tommy, tearing off the boy’s mask as Jenna mounted the Director, pummelling her with the bat.

The pistol clattered to the tiles.

Jenna picked it up. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“No!” Liam grabbed her arm.

She turned to him, her nostrils flaring.

“She’s already dead, Jenna.” He placed a hand on her wrist, lowering the pistol. “Please, she’s already dead.”

137. Liam

Jenna charged through the corridor with Tommy on her hip.

“Slow down!” Liam called, explosions of pain bursting along his leg, his arm hanging limp. “Wait.”

Grey light seeped through the front door, peeking around the bulldozer’s shadow. “Jenna. We’ll take that.” Reaching her side, he gestured to the machine with his bat.

“Can we, Mummy? Can we?” Tommy craned his neck, reaching towards the cabin.

Jenna shook her head. “We won’t fit.”

“I can hardly fucking walk here.”

“You think you can even drive?” Jenna glanced at Liam’s shoulder.

“Probably. I think.” His gaze shifted from his limp arm to the cabin. “Actually, I don’t think I can.”

Nodding, Jenna shifted Tommy around her side and rifled through her bag, taking out a pair of milk bottles stuffed with cloth and half filled with petrol. She lowered Tommy to the ground. “You need to stay with Daddy.” She kneeled before her son. “Do you understand?”

Tommy nodded, a broad grin spreading across his face. “I liked it when you made that lady die, Mummy.”

Taking a sharp breath, Jenna rose to her feet. “It sounds crazy out there.”

Liam nodded. “Let’s get back to the house. We don’t need to hang around.”

Jenna barged through the doors and ran outside.

Sliding his bat into his backpack, Liam grabbed Tommy’s wrist and followed.

Smoke drifted across the car park.

Liam squinted, trying to catch sight of Michael and Tina.

A pair of men in black capes and torn masks called out to Jenna. She stopped, aimed the pistol, and pulled the trigger.

Nothing.

She snapped open the cylinder to find no bullets. “The bitch.”

Scrambling in her bag, she took out a lighter and lit the first petrol bomb.

Liam blocked Tommy’s view and limped as fast as he could towards the smashed security barrier.

An explosion flashed against the surrounding walls.

Liam glanced back to the road behind them, blocked by an upturned truck coated with flames.

“Where are we going, Daddy?”

“Away from here.”

“Why does your arm look funny?”

“I hurt it. Stop dragging your feet.”

Tommy glanced over his shoulder, reaching out for his mother. “Mummy!”

“She’ll catch us up.” Liam stumbled on a length of pipe. He groaned in pain and scanned for movement behind him.

Jenna emerged from a plume of smoke, running several metres before tossing a flaming bottle over her shoulder.

Another flash.

Within half-a-minute, Jenna caught up, checking behind her for movement as she breathed heavily.

“Yay, Mummy!”

“You alright?”

Jenna spat onto the ground, her face smeared with grime. “Not as fit...as I...” She dropped to her knees, panting.

Stepping over to her, Liam hooked her arm, dragging her to her feet. “We’ve got Tommy. Let’s not fuck it up now.”

She shook her head. “I...I can’t.”

“Get up.”

Swallowing, Jenna pushed herself up and rested her head on Liam’s shoulder.

“We can’t stay here.”

“I know,” she managed.

“Let’s go.”

138. Liam

Liam entered the house first, checking the road behind him before limping onto the front doorstep.

“I don’t think we were followed.” Jenna stared back along the road, her face coated in sweat. “You okay?”

“I just need to lie down. My legs feel like mush.” Shaking his head, Liam opened the door and checked inside. “Michael? You here, mate? Tina?”

“What was that girl called?”

“Ceri?”

Jenna nodded. “I’m glad she’s talking. I can’t begin to imagine what she must have been through.”

“You could say the same about us.”

“That’s different.”

“Different, perhaps. Doesn’t stop it being fucked-up. We’ve done some—”

“We did what we had to.” She sucked in a breath. “Things are different now.”

“Right.” He leaned against the doorframe. “Ceri? Anyone?”

Marching past him, Jenna strode into the sitting room and flopped onto the sofa.

“You want to go and sit with your mum?” He patted Tommy’s back, ushering him inside.

When Tommy went through the door, he took in a sharp breath and grabbed the top of his bad arm, shoving the cricket bat handle into his armpit and popping his shoulder back in place.

He cried out.

“What’s going on?” Jenna leaned from the door, her eyes darting this way and that.

Liam rolled his shoulder, wincing. “Popped it back.”

“You look pale.”

“It fucking hurts, that’s why.”

“You think we’re going to be safe here?”

Liam walked into the sitting room and peeked through the curtains. “I don’t. We should make preparations for a raid.” He turned to see Jenna glaring at him, her arms folded across her chest.

“We’ve just got Tommy back. We’re done.”

“But we need to stop them.”

“No, we don’t.”

“They might come here though. We need to be prepared.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

Liam shrugged then cringed. “Blocking off the doors, doing some Home-Alone shit.”

“You mean stay here?”

Nodding, Liam walked over to the sofa and sat down. “Of course, stay here. For now, at least.”

The tension dropped from Jenna’s body. “When you said ‘raid,’ I thought you were on about going after them again.”

He gave her a confused look and shook his head. “No. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. We’re a family. We need to stick together. I’m not doing anything else that will put any of us at risk.” Jenna held his hand, her wedding ring glinting against the light.

“I know I’ve not always been the best husband, but all this...I’m going to try so hard to make up for everything.”

She placed a forefinger on his lips. “Don’t,” she whispered. “We’ve both done things...” Her voice trailed off.

“We did what we had to.”

“And now we’ve got to live with it.” She glanced at Tommy.

“And we will.” Liam swallowed, holding back tears. “Together.”

139. Tina

Tina clawed at the soil, digging a shallow trench with her bare hands. She dragged Michael’s stiff body into the pit and began to cover him with dirt.

Liam and Jenna stood over her, watching.

“You sure you don’t need a hand?” Jenna asked.

Tina stared ahead and carried on burying him. “No. I need to do this myself.”

Liam moved towards Tina. “You saved us, you know? Both of you.”

Tina gazed up at him, her cheeks streaked with tears. “I...” She turned her attention back to digging.

“Do you want a spade? We can help you dig?”

“No.” She tore up a handful of dirt.

“Please,” Jenna said. “We’d like to help.”

Tina blinked up at her. “Thank you.”

Liam gestured behind him. “I’ll get the spade.”

140. Liam

Liam made his last check around the house, shaking the makeshift barricades and scanning along the road. He limped to the sitting room and sat next to Jenna, placing a hand on her leg.

“Do you think Tommy is going to sleep okay up there?”

“Well, he hasn’t come out yet.”

She sat back and sighed. “You think we’ll be okay?”

“The house is about as secure as we can make it.” Liam shrugged. “Obviously, I would have preferred it if we had some Micro Machines spread across the hallway, or maybe some tins of paint swinging above the stairs.”

Jenna snorted. “I can’t believe that’s a kid’s film. There’s no way we’re letting Tommy watch that until he’s at least twenty-five.”

“Last thing we need is him getting ideas.” Liam tugged at his beard.

“You should have a shave. That way you can do that thing where you slap on some aftershave and scream.”

Liam smiled. “I’ve grown quite attached to it. Makes me look like a real man.”

“The beard’s going. You’re starting to look like a Womble.”

“The Uncle Bulgaria look not doing it for you?”

Jenna got up and looked through the curtains, watching the road for several minutes. “What do you think happened back there?”

“I don’t know. It seemed pretty crazy.”

She sat back on the sofa and rested her head on Liam’s shoulder. “Do you think we’ll see them again?”

“The Doctors?”

“Tina. Ceri.”

“Who knows?” Jenna raised her head and took Liam’s hand. “We just need to focus on Tommy. He’s seen too much for a boy his age.” She stared down at her hands. “I’m so worried that he’s...that he’s broken.”

“He’s not.” Liam stared ahead. “Kids adapt. He’ll be fine.”

“What if he’s not?” Her voice cracked.

“We’ve got to stop thinking of the ‘what ifs.’ We’ll show him love. That should be enough to get him past this...whatever it is.”

Jenna sighed. “I guess we just respond to stuff as it happens.”

“Exactly. We’ll drive ourselves mad if we keep thinking like that.”

“You’re right.” She ran a hand back along her hair and blinked up at the ceiling.

Liam got to his feet and limped over to the window. “Our main priority should be to sort this place out. The open fire will keep us warm. We can get some more food, I’m sure, once things have calmed down. We can plant things out back. We could even learn to fish.”

“You want to stay here? In this house?”

“Why not?” He turned to her, flinching at her stark expression.

“Because of what happened here...because it’s not our home.”

He nodded. “It could be. I’m sure most buildings have something dark in their history. We’ve got everything we need here. There’s a generator, heat, shelter, we’ve got water for now. It’s secure.” He threw his arms to his side. “I’m sick of moving around. I just want to see if we can make it work, have a quiet life.”

Jenna shook her head. “There’s also the body stuffed in next door’s bin that’s starting to smell.”

“When I’m back on my feet, I’ll take it to that quarry and drop it in the lake. The sooner we can put all this stuff behind us, the better.”

Jenna took his hand and started when the lights flickered on and the fridge began to hum. “The electric’s back on.”

Liam grinned. “I’ll try the water.” He turned the kitchen tap and shrugged. “Oh well. We can’t expect—” A gush of water burst into the sink. “Fuck me! Running water!”

Jenna put an arm around his side and gazed into the sink.

“We should probably refill those bottles, just in case it goes off again.”

Jenna shook her head. “Screw that. Let’s go home.”

“Home? As in?”

She nodded and smiled.

“Let’s do it.”

“Mummy, Daddy, look what I found.” Tommy charged into the kitchen, a grubby bird mask fastened to his head. “I’m a Doctor!”

141. Tina

Tina pulled up outside her house in the dying light.

“Is this your house?” Ceri asked.

Tina managed a nod. What the hell was she going to do?

Michael was dead.

“I can find somewhere else if—”

“No. It’s fine. I just...”

Ceri’s lips twitched. “Take as long as you need.”

“I’m fine.” Tina left the car and went inside.

She turned on the light and sunk onto the sofa, her legs and arms beyond tired.

“The power’s back,” Ceri said.

Tina nodded slowly. “Oh.”

“What do you think that means?”

“I don’t know. It’s good though, right?”

Ceri nodded. “Maybe things are getting better.”

“Maybe.”

“Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Fuck.” Stumbling to her feet, Tina picked up a photograph from the windowsill showing her and Michael on holiday in Turkey. He was so handsome back then.

She took in a deep breath and threw the frame against the wall, buckling to her knees, and letting out a long, silent wail.

––––––––

THE END.

Author’s note

Thank you for reading Black Death Survival. I hope you enjoyed the story.

If you’ve been following my Author Diary podcast or videos for a while, you’ll know what a fraught journey this book has been to write.

What you have in your hands was originally meant to be a trilogy written by me and two other co-authors.

We started the project in autumn 2017. I finished the first draft of much of what has ended up as Black Death Survival in January 2018.

And then I waited for the other co-authors to deliver their chapters...and waited.

The first co-author dropped out of the project in 2019, and much of that summer was spent trying to reshape the story.

Fast-forward to 2021, and the second co-author finally stepped away from the project.

This left me with the first draft of a decent-length novel—though nothing close to the original trilogy we had in mind.

Since writing the original draft for Black Death Survival, I’ve penned four more novels, twenty-five novellas, and re-written all four books in my post-apocalyptic Wasteland series.

Revisiting the draft, I noticed a lot of mistakes and tics I used to do, and realised the manuscript was filled with inconsistencies, flat scenes with little drama, or relied on crossover scenes written by co-authors.

It was one of those occasions where I had a decision to make. There was enough that worked that I could rewrite, reshape, and move around, but it would require a lot of work to bring it up to a standard I could be proud of.

So, because I’m apparently a masochist, I went for it.

I went in, pulled out the weeds, rewrote all the scenes, added new ones, and fixed the storyline so it made sense without the other characters.

It stands as the most challenging thing I’ve had to do as a writer. It was frustrating and exhausting, but ultimately satisfying.

I feel like I’ve learned more about writing from the process of fixing this novel than any lectures or books could ever teach me.

So, characters like Kat, Morgan, Martin, and Arthur are lost in the ether, potential storylines that never made it.

Hopefully, the Muse will be satisfied with what I’ve done.

It is sad to me that we never got the story written that we originally envisaged. And I’m indebted to both of the co-authors for giving me ideas and suggestions that made the current story what it is.

Though I wrote the chapters in the book alone, its creation is something I still consider a collaboration.

We parted ways creatively, but we’re still good friends.

I guess sometimes life just gets in the way.

That, and a real pandemic.

As I write this author’s note in October 2021, we’re still in the midst of Covid-19.

Though we were writing speculative fiction in 2017, it’s crazy that we’ve had to live through a pandemic as a reality.

Luckily, it wasn’t as bad as the pandemic in Black Death Survival.

Though, I have to say that the parallel story I wrote called Black Death London is a little closer to the bone than I could have imagined. I wonder if speculative satire is an established genre?

Black Death London follows below.

Thank you.

Jon Cronshaw, October 2021

Black Death London

“Once ‘free’ in the streets, what then? Fear and panic could destroy the city as much as plague itself. Many of the doctors fled, along with the rich and powerful; quacks preyed on the poor with their neverfail miracle drugs. Churches and conventicles and synagogues were empty. Neighbours informed against each other. People lied to each other – and to themselves. (It’s just a headache. Just a little bruise. I’ll feel better if I go for a walk.) Worse – there were stories of infected people deliberately concealing their telltale ‘tokens’ and going out into the streets trying to infect others.”

- Daniel Defoe

I.

Bernard ran a finger around the rim of his port glass, buying time as he considered the question. “Let me put it to you like this. You and I both know that the PM has completely dropped the ball with this antibiotics debacle.”

“I’m not so sure about that one.” Glenn gazed at him across the desk, his deep-set eyes and curled lips giving him the air of ironic amusement. “This isn’t just a national issue.”

Bernard nodded at the Dictaphone and slowly removed his glasses. He’d practiced this several times over the years—it always let the hacks know that he was serious. “Pause that for a moment. This needs to be off the record.”

Glenn pressed pause and sat back in his seat, twiddling a pen between his fingers.

“Look, Glenn.” He drummed a rhythm on his mahogany desk. “You and I both know what this is all about. The PM, if you’ll excuse my French, is a fucking cretin. If they hadn’t got their bloody Russian bots, or whatever it was, fucking up our elections, we’d be the ones in power. And now we’re going to be the ones to sort all this shit out.”

“Are you accusing the PM of stealing the election?”

“Off the record, yes.” He replaced his glasses and picked up his drink. He swirled the port around, letting his words sink in. If there was one thing he knew about dealing with the press, it was to take control of where the light shone. “If your investigations happen to corroborate any of this...” He took a sip of port and shrugged a shoulder. “Of course, I know how much you’re stretched.”

“Come on. Bernie, what are you getting at?”

“Nothing specific. Maybe speak to Josh later. Perhaps he might be able to point you in the direction of some information that may be of significant interest to an interested party.”

“That’s suitably vague.” Glenn leaned forward, the leather seat creaking beneath him. “What kind of information we talking?”

“I couldn’t possibly say.” He tapped his nose. “Let’s just say we might know someone who might know someone who might know something that might be of use to you. Let’s say a little bombshell that a certain Prime Minister might not want the public to know about...”

Glenn frowned. “You’ve got nothing.”

“Believe what you want. The offer is there.” Bernard chuckled. “You can hit record again now.”

Glenn reached forward and pressed the button on his recorder.

Bernard cleared his throat. “Where were we? Oh yes, of course. Now, let me be clear. If elected, we will pledge ten billion pounds in our first year in office to research the antibiotics crisis.”

Glenn raised his eyebrows. “Ten billion?”

“At least. This is the biggest crisis that has hit our shores since the Second World War.”

“But, ten billion. How you going to pay for that on top of everything else?”

“A penny on income tax might be in order. Perhaps more.”

“Can’t you just tax the bankers?”

“Of course, tax the employers, tax the job creators. Why don’t we just become a communist state if you want to do that?” He shook his head. “Now, mark my words, this research is absolutely necessary for not just our future, but for the future of our species.”

“What about China?”

“What about them?”

“Aren’t they to blame for this?”

“Another leftist conspiracy theory. Honestly, Glenn, I expect this from The Guardian, but I thought your people still had fact-checkers. China is one of our biggest trading partners—”

“It’s not a conspiracy. All those pigs, dead. China should be held accountable.”

“What are you suggesting, sanctions? You and I both know that ten billion will not be enough, but we can partner with countries like China and India to develop new medical research.”

“What kind of medical research?”

“Well, I’m no scientist, but I’m sure we could develop some kind of gene editing or nano-robots or something like that. If I had the solution, I wouldn’t be asking for the funding, would I?”

Glenn laughed. “Anything else?”

“I need you to keep the message strong. We really do appreciate your support. As I’m sure you’re aware, this is a delicate situation.”

“The delicate situation which you are all too willing to capitalise on?”

Bernard laughed and stared down into his glass. “Oh, Glenn. Your cynicism really knows no bounds. What are we going to do with you?” He looked up and smiled his best wolfish grin. “This isn’t about me or the party, this is about leading the way against the biggest crisis our country has had to face since the Second World War.”

Glenn let out a sigh. “You already said that.” He pulled the Dictaphone towards him, slipped it into his breast pocket, and got to his feet.

“I think you left your recorder on.” Bernard adjusted his tie.

“I’m sure I turned it off.”

Bernard reached out a hand. “May I check?”

Glenn took the Dictaphone from his pocket and pressed a button, turning off the screen. “There. Must have slipped my mind.”

“Thank you, Glenn. I’d hate to think you were trying to catch me out.”

Glenn shifted his weight and shook his head. “Not at all. Complete accident. I’ll get back to the newsroom and get this typed up.”

Bernard got up and let out a laugh. “Wonderful. Wonderful.” He placed a hand on Glenn’s shoulder and led him through the door into the hall. “Listen, there’s a few of us going down to Chichester for an ‘off-the-record’ shindig—Chatham House rules. A mutual friend of ours has an eighty-footer.” He tapped the side of his nose. “Let’s just say Charlie will be there.”

Glenn nodded and patted Bernard’s shoulder. “Sounds great. Let me know.”

“Of course.” Bernard steered Glenn to the front door, a smile fixed in place. “As I say, Glenn, we would appreciate your support. Really twist the knife in on the PM if you can.”

“Nice one, Bernie.”

Bernard waved as Glenn left. He closed the door slowly behind him. “Prick.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and called Josh. “Did you hear all that?”

“I did. He’s a—”

“Good. Come back through.”

II.

Bernard returned to his desk and turned off his intercom as Josh took a seat across from him. “What did you make of that?” He looked over his glasses to his political advisor, tall and pale with black hair and pasty features. Even though he was approaching forty, Bernard still saw him as a young man fresh out of university. “I can never quite make out whether Glenn is on the level.”

Josh glanced down a folder on his lap and flicked through some of the pages. “I wouldn’t worry about him. His editor will keep him in line.”

“If you can drip feed the Russian meddling stuff over next week or so... And make sure he gets it from at least three sources.”

“What if he finds out it’s bollocks?”

Bernard leaned back as air whistled through his nostrils. “He won’t have time. Trust me.”

Josh squirmed in his chair. “You know this will come back to bite you in the arse if—”

Bernard removed his glasses and glared at Josh. “Correction, it will bite a certain political advisor in the arse if it comes out that you’ve been spreading disinformation to the press. I know nothing about any of this.” He tapped his nose and put on the bumbling voice he saved for TV. “Oh well, I suppose my press boy must have gone rogue. I apologise from the bottom of my heart and will see that he never works in Westminster again.”

Josh stared down at his folder. “Understood.”

“Good.” He returned his glasses to his nose and grinned. “Now let’s strategise. I don’t think the party is doing enough to leverage this antibiotics debacle.” He rose to his feet and glanced up at a painting of HMS Victory. “I feel it is important to position myself as the bulwark, as the only man protecting this great country from the threat of...” He shrugged and scanned the walls for inspiration.

“You’re a protector of the people. You’ve got their interests at heart. This isn’t about power. Blah blah.” Josh scribbled something down in a notepad.

“Exactly. We know the Health Secretary’s been pissing about with this. We just need to get a few more allies from the party on my side. We need to steer the party towards a no-confidence vote in the House.”

“So, what’s the end game in this?”

“To make the PM’s position untenable. To force a snap election.”

“And you think that’s wise?”

He raised an eyebrow at Josh. “Of course it’s wise. You know as well as I do that I’m the best man for the job.”

Josh shuffled his papers.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“It’s fine. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Well, Melanie, obviously. I’m not sure—”

“What about Melanie?”

Josh sucked in his bottom lip and looked down at his folder again. “She is technically the leader of the opposition.”

“I think we are done with women at the helm, don’t you? It’s time to have a real leader. But obviously mum’s the word until I can move a few pieces.”

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it?” Josh slammed his folder shut and glared up at Bernard.

“It’s the only game, Josh.” He raised a finger. “Or, at least, it’s the only game that matters.”

Josh nodded and pulled his folder against his chest. “Right, I’ll draw up a press release on the ten-billion funding and get a few people talking about the meddling stuff.”

“Pish. Let’s make this an event. Organise a press conference. Let’s make a real splash with this.”

Josh sighed. “A conference? I’m not sure—”

“What is it, man? Spit it out.”

“If you let me speak—” Josh rolled his eyes. “The funding is a good thing to push, but I know how you get when the cameras are on. This would be a bad time to let your leadership plans slip.”

“What do you take me for? I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“We don’t want you saying anything that comes across as completely scientifically illiterate again.”

Bernard took in a deep breath and sneered. “Well, isn’t it good that I’ve got you. Put together a cheat-sheet and set up the conference.”

“But—”

“But nothing, Josh. I don’t need your snivelling bullshit today.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, let’s get to work.”

Josh let out a sigh and rose to his feet. “Fine. I’ll make some calls.”

Bernard rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. This is going to be great.”

III.

Bernard strode into the briefing room to find more than half of the seats empty. He forced his best smile and nodded a few greetings to the journalists he recognised. He leaned towards Josh and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Oh God, they’ve sent that work experience prick from the BBC again.” He gestured to a skinny man in an olive-green suit with red hair and freckled cheeks.

Josh frowned. “He’s been there five years.”

Ignoring Josh’s words, Bernard strode over to the reporter and shook his hand. “Anthony. So good to see you again.” He resisted the urge to wipe his hand. Why did so many hacks have sweaty palms?

“Actually, it’s Martin.”

It was always a good power move—make them feel insignificant, like they didn’t matter. Bernard patted him on the shoulder and smiled. “Martin, of course.” He might have been on the job for five years, but that didn’t stop him from being a disrespectful prick. “Please, take a seat.”

Moving behind a table, he signalled for Josh to come close. “Is this everyone?”

Josh glanced down at his phone. “I think so.”

Bernard clapped his hands and leaned back in his seat. “Right. I bet you’re wondering why I called you here today.” He smiled and raised a hand. “And, before you ask, no, I didn’t accidentally offend the German Chancellor.”

A few of the journalists gave a knowing chuckle. One of them snorted.

“Of course, that’s not the only thing that the Prime Minister has dropped the ball with recently.” Bernard got to his feet. “He’s not only embarrassed us on the world stage, but he’s made a complete and absolute pig’s ear of our response to the antibiotics crisis. Of course, I’m not one to point a finger solely at the PM. I believe that the Health Secretary’s head should also roll for this.” He began to pace. “But I’m not here to cast aspersions. The problem I always find in politics is too many politicians blather away. They don’t really say anything.”

“Get to the point, Bernie.”

Bernie grinned at one of the reporters near the back. “Very good. Very good.” He raised a forefinger. “You see, I’m not here to complain, I’m here to offer solutions.” He slapped his hand down on the table.

Josh poured a glass of water and slipped a sheet of paper in front of Bernard.

“I think it’s time that we pushed for radical change. I’m proposing something unprecedented—”

“Get on with it, Bernie. We’ve got deadlines here.”

He glared at a chubby reporter on the front row. “Oh, Gary. I thought they stopped printing mammary glands in your rag. And, still, your newsroom is full of tits.”

A few of the others chuckled.

“Listen. What I’m proposing is a ten-billion-pound scheme to fund research into solutions for the antibiotics crisis.”

Josh pointed to the sheet in front of him. Bernard shrugged him away. “Look, I’m going to be honest. My advisor here has given me this sheet filled with some viable scientific solutions. I’m sure it says things about nano-bots or gene editing or something. The point is, I’m not a scientist. I’m a politician and I care about this country. What I want to see is—”

Phones beeped around the room.

Bernard cleared his throat. “What I’m trying to say—”

Two of the reporters got up and left.

“I say. This is most—”

Gary got to his feet and picked up his coat. “Bernie, you got any comments about a plague outbreak?”

“Yes, this is exactly why this funding is important. This will ensure that we have the resources to stop an outbreak at the pass.”

Gary smirked. “Good luck with that, Bernie. I’m talking about the one right now.”

Bernard squirmed as Josh leaned towards him, showing him on his phone the news report of the outbreak.

“Yes, I’m hearing about this in real time.” He glared at the leaving reporters. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to make any further comments until I have been briefed.”

He raised his chin and stormed out.

IV.

Bernard paced back and forth in his office.

Josh sat with his back straight, a burgundy folder pulled to his chest.

“You know what that was? That was a fucking ambush. That tabloid prick. Who does he think he is?”

Josh rubbed the back of his neck and remained silent.

“He completely derailed my proposal.”

“To be fair, you hadn’t exactly cleared it with the party.”

“Yes, yes. It’s a fucking proposal. Do you need me to read you a dictionary definition?” He reached up to a shelf and pulled down the Concise Oxford Dictionary. “Because I can.” He slammed the book onto the desk and flipped through the pages.

“This really isn’t necessary.”

He shut the dictionary. “Do you know what’s not absolutely necessary? Your job. I’m beginning to think that having you here is a complete waste of time. You made me look like a complete fucking idiot out there.”

Josh looked down at his phone and shook his head. “This plague stuff looks really serious.”

“How serious?”

“Serious enough that your press conference will be buried.”

“Give me that.” Bernard snatched the phone from his hands and scrolled through the newsfeeds. “How have you done this?”

“Done what?”

“All the news together.”

“It’s just aggregated RSS feeds.”

“Get me one. I want an RSS feed.”

“You want an RSS feed?”

Bernard resisted the urge to slam Josh’s head down on the desk. There was no way he was going to make another payout to some jumped-up little prick. “Do I need to warn you again about how precarious your position is here?”

Josh gave a quick nod. “I’ll get you an RSS feed. Yes. Fine. Whatever you want.”

“Don’t give me that Cambridge snark.” Bernard raised his chin and adjusted his tie. “They teach respect at Oxford.”

“I went to Oxford.”

“Right. Good.” He sunk down onto his chair and tossed the phone across the desk.

“Now with the press conference, I don’t think you handled Gary from The Sun very well. But we’ve dodged a bullet with the outbreak.”

Bernard rubbed his chin, running the possibilities through his mind.

Josh leaned forward. “I suppose the thing about doing press conferences is that you need to keep control of the narrative. When you’ve got—”

“I was doing press conferences before you were born. Don’t fucking teach your grandmother to suck eggs.”

“Right, because it seemed to me that—”

Bernard unfastened his top button and glared at Josh. “I don’t need your fucking advice.”

The corners of Josh’s lips quirked for a moment. “But I’m your advisor. That’s literally what you employ me to do.”

“No, I employed you because your fucking dad put me on the board of his brokerage firm. Your job is to make me look better and it seems to me that you can’t even do that.” He drummed a rhythm on the desk. “We need to work out the best way to play this. This plague could be a cash cow for me.”

“I’m not sure if this is the best time. People might see it as being opportunistic.”

“Of course, it’s fucking opportunistic. But you need good leadership during times of crisis. Where is the Prime Minister? Where is the Health Secretary? I’m the only one doing a damn thing about this.”

Josh nodded. “As you say.”

Bernard poured himself a glass of port and returned to his desk. “What do we know about this plague? Is it contagious?”

“It’s a plague. It’s contagious.”

“Don’t be a snarky prick.”

Josh looked down at his phone. “As far as I can tell, they think it’s a mutated strain of the bubonic plague.”

“Gosh. That is serious.” Bernard placed his glass down. “This will play great for me.”

“They think it started in China with the pigs and spread through India and then everywhere else.”

“Surely, there must be something we can do about it. Aren’t there medicines?”

Josh looked up and shook his head. “Antibiotics would have worked.”

Bernard grinned. “Exactly. That’s our in. This is the Prime Minister’s fault.”

“Well, actually, some are blaming the Chinese. Others are blaming gerbils.”

“Yes, yes, details, details. Fuck gerbils. The bigger point here is that the PM and Health Secretary should have got a handle on the antibiotics crisis years ago, and they did not. And now look at where we are. They’ve literally put the entire world at risk.”

“I think it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Of course it is. But the public want to know the facts. They want to know something is being done. If this is going to work, I need a convincing narrative.”

Josh sniffed. “I’m not convinced.”

“Yes, but you’re not a member of the fucking public.” He took a deep breath as he tried to stop his anger rising. “Tell me, what is the average IQ?”

“Well, by definition, it’s a hundred.”

“Have you spoken to a person with an IQ of a hundred?”

“I never thought to ask.”

“Well, let me tell you, the average person is a fucking cretin. Now think about that in terms of the rest of the population.” He raised a forefinger. “If one hundred is the average, that means most people fall below that or else they’re wasting taxpayer’s money at university studying lesbian dance theory. Most people are fucking thicksicles. Even the smart ones.”

“I’m not sure lesbian dance studies is a real thing.”

“Oh, it definitely is. The PC brigade fund anything these days.”

Bernie got to his feet and knocked back the rest of his port, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “This could lead to a snap election. We can work it so that we get a no-confidence vote in the House.” He rubbed his hands together. “This is brilliant.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Josh blinked at him.

“Send out press releases. I want my comments to be all over this story. I just need to work out how to play this properly.”

V.

Bernard waved his hand impatiently when Josh returned with a printout of the latest press release.

“You know it would be much better for the environment if we did these over email?”

“Nonsense.” Bernard snatched the page. “One tree’s not going to make a difference.” He muttered to himself as he read, crossing out lines, and writing notes. “I think we need to change ‘complete incompetence’ to ‘a complete and utter shambles.’”

Josh nodded. “Yes. That sounds more like something you’d say.”

“Remember, when you write these releases, you need to do it in my voice. No one wants to hear what an MP’s lackey has to say.” He closed his pen and pushed the paper across the desk.

“In my defence, you have used the phrase ‘utter incompetence’ at least five times in the last week.”

“Yes, yes. But this is about presenting an image. Anyone can say ‘utter incompetence.’ Think of the poor reporters having to write this crap up. If they get gold like this, they’re going to bump it right up above the fold. They might even pull it as a headline. ‘Bernie: complete and utter shambles.’”

“That would make it look like it’s talking about you.”

“Well, this is why they have sub-editors.”

“What’s left of them.” Josh shook his head. “I’ll get the corrections made and then if you can sign it off, I’ll send it out.”

“Set up some interviews. I want at least ten by the close of play. And if you can pull a few strings to get me back on Newsnight...”

Josh smirked. “After last time?”

“I didn’t know it was a racist slur. How many times?” He let out a sigh. “Just get to work before I blow a bloody gasket.”

VI.

Bernard flicked through his moleskin contact book and dialled another number. He held the receiver against his ear, cursing under his breath. “Come on.”

Nobody answered.

He smashed the phone down. “Another fucking voicemail. Do these people not want a story?”

Josh let out a sigh. “I think they’ve got their story.”

Bernard looked over his glasses and glared. “What have you got for me? You’d better have something I can get my teeth into.”

“I’ve got you an interview at four.”

“Radio 4?”

“No. A YouTuber calling himself ‘The New Number 10.’”

“No doubt some pasty wannabe spouting off into his iPhone. There used to be gatekeepers for a reason. The old guard may have been a bunch of pompous arseholes, but you knew what you were getting.”

“He’s got a lot of followers.”

“What about the Mail?”

“They said to send a press release.”

“This is a breaking story. It’s constantly evolving. Get back on the phone and tell them what’s what.”

Josh swiped his phone screen.

“What are you waiting for? Pick up the phone.”

“I’m putting feelers out on the Slack channel. I’ll see what people are tweeting.”

Heat rose around Bernard’s neck as air whistled through his nose. “You’re a slack channel.” He grabbed his phone receiver and slammed it on the desk in front of Josh. He leaned forward, his voice becoming a growl. “Make some fucking phone calls. Do you think journalists are even looking at Twitter?”

“I think that’s pretty much all they do now.”

“Jesus.” Bernard shook his head. “How have my tweets been doing?”

Josh scrolled through his phone.

“Well?”

“Crickets.”

“Shit.” He leaned back and drummed on the table.

“I could write you a blog post.”

“Excellent idea. At least people will read that.”

Josh looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, but did not speak.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged a shoulder. “You don’t get many readers on your blog.”

“It doesn’t matter. That’s where the hacks go digging stories.” He raised his chin. “People trust me.”

“And bankers.”

“I can tell you’re being sarcastic.” He raised a forefinger. “I will have you know that some of my best friends are bankers.”

“Wankers, more like,” Josh muttered.

“I heard that.”

Bernard’s eyes narrowed. “Just, get on the phone. Do your job.”

VII.

“Well, this is fucking ridiculous.” Bernard sat back in his chair and twirled a pen around his fingers. “Not one decent interview. Do these people not realise that I’m the Shadow Health Secretary?” He shook his head and breathed an exasperated sigh. “We are literally in the middle of a fucking health crisis and no one wants to hear from me.”

“You’ve got a fair few retweets. Though a lot of them have eggs, or Pepe the Frog as avatars.”

“I literally have no idea what those words mean. I presume a retweet’s a good thing?”

“Yeah, but I think it’s trolls and bigots who are spreading the word.”

“Some of my best friends are bigots. The more the merrier I say.”

“It doesn’t look good, though. If you’re seeing someone is gaining traction with the far right—”

“My father was far right. It never did me any harm.”

“Wasn’t he in and out of prison for all that Nazi stuff?”

“Yes, yes. But I went to public school, remember? It made not a lick of difference.” He leaned back, crossed his legs, and pointed between his forehead and Josh. “I’ve not been impressed with you today. You should be getting these interviews lined up. You’re not selling me enough.”

“Not my fault.”

“See, this is the problem with you young people.” He sniffed. “No sense of responsibility.”

“I’m thirty-seven.”

“Yes, well. I was fighting my third election at thirty-six. What have you done?”

Josh cleared his throat. “You’re getting distracted from the real issue. You need to change tactics. Getting the press on your side clearly isn’t working. You need to work with the party. I think you should be the one to show leadership and push to be leader.” He shrugged a shoulder. “And then you can start looking to Number 10.”

“I like that.” Bernard pushed out his bottom lip and nodded to himself. “I’m going to show so much leadership, I’ll make Churchill look like dole scum.” He grabbed the phone and picked up the receiver.

“Who are you calling?”

He tapped the side of his nose. “It’s time to pull the trigger.”

VIII.

Bernard came to a stop outside the café and turned to Josh. “Let me handle this. Hillary and I go way back to our school days. You just sit back and learn.”

Josh reached for the door and stopped. “It’s closed.”

A crease set on Bernard’s forehead. He glared at his pocket watch and raised it to his ear to check the ticking. “It should be open.” He tapped on the window and cupped his eyes to see inside. “Hello? Open up.”

Josh gestured to the police cars along the street. “Roadblocks are up.”

“Roadblocks?”

“Yeah, I was just reading the Government has restricted all movement.”

“But that’s ridiculous.” Bernard narrowed his eyes at the waiting police officers. “This is a free country.”

Josh frowned. “They’re trying to contain the plague, remember?”

“Yes, yes. But what price liberty?”

“I wouldn’t let the press hear you say that. You’re way off-message.”

“Well, obviously. I can still use this to decapitate the PM.” He glanced around and glared down at his watch again. “Where is he? He’s always late.”

“Maybe he got annoyed with you being late and left.”

“I was only late because he’s always late.”

“Maybe he’s doing the same. If he thinks you’re going to be late, he’ll be later.”

Bernard nodded to himself. “Very smart, young Josh. I think you might be on to something there. If he thinks he’s going to play those power games with me, that’s just not cricket.” He scanned the street and gestured towards an alleyway. “Two can play at that game.”

“What game?”

“If he’s trying to be late on me, I can be later. Let’s hide.”

Josh frowned. “Hide?”

Without answering, Bernard grabbed Josh’s wrist and dragged him into the alleyway. He raised a finger to his lips and watched, occasionally peeking around the corner until a balding man in his 60s arrived at the café.

The man tried the door and checked his watch.

Josh took a step. “He’s here—”

Bernard yanked him back and raised a hand, signalling for silence. “We wait,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “If he’s going to play games...”

He leaned out of the alleyway and Hillary spotted him.

Bernard waved and strode over to him. “Hillary.” They shook hands. “So sorry we’re late. It’s been a complete nightmare as I’m sure you can appreciate.”

“Bernie.” He wore a grey suit and a fixed smile and turned to Josh. “Who’s the lackey?”

“He’s my political advisor.” Bernard raised his chin. “Very competent. Very bright. Marcus’s son.”

“Marcus from school?”

“As I live and breathe.”

Hillary shook Josh’s hand, his smile growing broader. “Good to see the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. Your father and I are very dear friends, very dear.”

Josh looked down. “Thanks.”

“Tell me, does he still play cricket?” He mimed swinging a bat.

“He’s been in a wheelchair for the past decade.”

Hillary let out an awkward laugh. “Well, you send him my best. He was always a wonderful batsman. Perhaps not national level, but certainly county.” Hillary gestured to the police officers. “These roadblocks have been an absolute nightmare. Who knows what the PM’s playing at?”

“I’m sure it is all on the level.” Bernard adjusted his cufflinks. “There is a plague killing tens of thousands of people, after all.”

“They’re taking away people’s liberty.” Hillary shook his hand and held Bernard’s gaze with cobalt eyes. “It’s another example of this Government going too far.”

“I would have said the same thing, but the health of our nation must be our top priority.” Bernard snapped a quick glare at Josh’s confused expression.

“I suppose as Shadow Health you would say that. And, obviously, in my position I would say that the backbone of a good economy is its transport network. But who are we kidding?”

Bernard checked his watch and sighed. “You were quite late.”

Hillary gave a half-smile and shrugged a shoulder. “All I can say is thank God I’ve got my lobby pass. I had to argue the toss with those police officers for a good ten minutes. Complete incompetence, if you ask me.”

“They are doing their jobs. I have nothing but respect for our boys in blue, and I’m sure you’re the same.”

Hillary sniffed. “Yes. They did a wonderful job burying that little domestic charge of yours, if I remember rightly.”

Bernard cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not. The lads at the Met have got your back. I understand.”

“Indeed. It’s called building trust.”

Josh frowned at them both. “Should we go back to the office, or something? I don’t mind making the teas.”

“Excellent plan.” Bernard clapped his hands and started heading back along the street, walking slightly faster than Hillary to force him to keep step.

“So, tell me, Bernie. What do we know about this God-awful plague?”

“People are dying. And as far as I can tell the PM is making a bloody pig’s ear of the whole thing.”

“What can we do?”

“A coup would be nice.”

They both shared a chuckle.

Bernard turned a corner and the Palace of Westminster loomed in the distance.

“I liked your line on the Twitter,” Hillary said. “‘Complete and utter incompetence.’ Sums it up perfectly.”

“Did I—” He stopped when Josh gave him a quick nod. “Of course. Of course. Anyone with half-a-brain can see it is a complete and utter shambles.”

“Ooh. You should have said that. Shambles is a much better word. Very emotive. Incompetence is someone forgetting to grab some toilet roll before making a morning visit. A shambles is, what?”

“Allowing a rampant plague to spread around the country?”

Hillary gave Bernard a playful shove. “He’s still got it.”

Josh looked down at his phone and squinted, tapping the screen.

Hillary stopped abruptly. “Out with it, then. What was so important that we had to do this in person?”

Bernard curled his lip as a homeless man staggered by, trailed by the stench of stale urine and cider. “Let’s not talk about this here. You never know who’s listening.”

IX.

Hillary pulled a seat up to Bernard’s desk as Josh brought over a pot of tea and a trio of porcelain cups.

Bernard’s seat creaked as he leaned back and adjusted his cuffs.

Josh cleared his throat. “How do you have your tea, Hillary?”

“Just a squeeze of lemon.”

Glancing to Bernard, Josh hesitated. “We don’t have any lemon. I meant milk or sugar?”

Hillary rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Best make it milk with two sugars. You should always have lemons around. Good for the old scurvy.”

“Still on the sugars, eh?” Bernard cocked an eyebrow.

“And I see you’re still on the port.” He nodded towards the empty glass. “And so early in the day.”

“Yes. Well. We all have our vices, don’t we?” He narrowed his eyes, letting the implication hang. “You remember that conversation we had at Ascot, was it three, maybe four years ago?”

Hillary lowered his gaze and voice. “Oh. That conversation.”

“Indeed. As I say, we all have our vices.”

“Indeed.” Hillary glanced at Josh and leaned forward. “So, what’s all this cloak-and-dagger stuff about?”

“I’ve been thinking long and hard about this.” Bernard picked up his cup and swirled the liquid before taking a sip. “It’s time for us to venture forth and take control.” He placed the cup down and smiled.

Hillary leaned back and rubbed his hands together. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m going to call for an emergency session in Parliament.” He gazed up at the painting of his father, meeting those penetrating eyes. “Obviously, I will link it to the plague. I’ll use that to leverage a no-confidence vote on the Government—”

Dark lines set along Hillary’s forehead. “Do you think we’ll have the support?”

“I’m sure between the two of us, we can pull in a few favours. We’ve all got our vices, after all.”

Hillary’s eyes glistened. “I like the way you think.”

“Indeed. I may have to remind a certain Home Secretary about a certain video of him being sucked off by a certain rent boy while wearing a Nazi uniform.”

“Is that the one where he gets the lad to, ahem, defecate on a glass table?”

“Oh, there’s another one?” Bernard looked over his glasses. “I’m not sure which is worse.”

“Probably the Nazi one,” Josh said. “Press will have a field day with that stuff.”

Bernard wrinkled his nose. “But defecation?”

“Maybe it was the inspiration for some of his policies?” Hillary snorted out a laugh.

“Laughing at your own jokes again?” Bernard shook his head. “I want every favour, every promise, every bit of leverage cashed in.”

“Do you think we’ll have the support?”

“Of course.” Bernard examined his fingernails. “I’ll make a few phone calls, get the word out.”

Hillary leaned back and steepled his fingers. “Excellent.”

X.

Bernard sat, poised, trying to appear as if he were listening. The House of Commons bustled around him. Though not as packed as a full session should be, the smells of sweat mingling with dust, leather, and polish were as strong as ever.

The Health Secretary spoke in his usual monotone, the words washing by as Bernard focused on his own speech. This could be the making or breaking of his political career. There was no room for error, no room for things to go awry.

He’d taken the Health Secretary down several times in debating society at school and university, and this was no different. He told himself to keep focused, to keep his eyes on the ultimate prize.

After ten minutes, the Health Secretary sat down and Bernard took in a deep breath.

“Mr Bernard Jackson-Smith,” the Speaker said.

Bernard rose to his feet and stepped slowly to the despatch box, running his gaze across the opposition bench, offering the Prime Minister his best charming smile. “Thank you, Mr Speaker. Prime Minister. My honourable friends. This is not a time for blame, this is a time for the country to come together.” He raised a forefinger. “We are at a health crisis and it is my concern that this Government has acted in a way that can only be described as completely shambolic and utterly incompetent.”

A few people murmured their agreement behind him.

“Mr Speaker, I would urge you to allow this House to put forward a vote of no confidence against—”

Jeers, cheers, and shouts drowned out his words.

“Order! Order!” The Speaker hammered his gavel. “Mr Jackson-Smith, this is no time for opportunism. Return to your seat.”

“This is remarkable.” Bernard looked back at his fellow party members, wide-mouthed. “I have never—”

“Order. Do not make me warn you again, Mr Jackson-Smith.”

Bernard glanced up to sneers from his own party’s backbenchers.

“Sit down, Bernie,” Hillary said. “This isn’t a time for grandstanding. Please. We’re here to fix the problem, not to create unnecessary fighting.”

“Sit down,” the Speaker said.

Bernard dipped his head and shuffled back to his seat. “Thank you, Mr Speaker.”

The Speaker pointed his gavel and met Bernard’s huffing with a glare. “Mr Jackson-Smith, that was a disgusting display. I will not warn you again.”

Bernard rose to his feet. “Thank you. My only point, Mr Speaker, is that this country needs solid leadership. They need the right man for the job. I’m just glad to have it on the record that this question has been raised.”

“Be seated, please, Mr Jackson-Smith. This is your final, final warning.”

Bernard slunk back to his seat.

“Please have Mr Jackson-Smith’s comments erased from the Hansard.”

Bernard narrowed his eyes at Hillary. “Prick.”

XI.

Bernard stared bleary-eyed at the rows of benches as the debate continued—how long had it been? Four hours? Five? It seemed as if every MP in the country was getting an hour-long speech.

As each Member finished speaking, others bobbed up, trying to get the attention of the Speaker. They reminded Bernard of meerkats poking out of their holes, looking around for dangers. Of course, the real danger was unseen, and all it took was one of these selfish bastards being infected to put everyone’s life at risk.

He just wished they’d shut up so he could go home. What good would come from this? It was ridiculous.

He let out a loud yawn and made a show of stretching his arms over his head when a Scottish backbencher spoke. If there was one thing that grated on him more than the Scots, it was a Scottish woman who had not attended university or even a proper school. It seemed to him that anyone with a sniff of socialism could get elected north of the border these days. No wonder it was all in such disarray.

He bobbed up as the Scottish woman sat. But there was no way the Speaker would give him another opportunity to speak. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his seat, letting out a long sigh.

“Well, I’m glad that my Right Honourable friend, Mr Jackson-Smith seems to think this debate is unimportant.”

Bernard locked eyes with the Health Secretary stepping up to the despatch box and rose to his feet before the Speaker could protest. “My Honourable Friend here is absolutely right. We are in the midst of a health crisis. How long have we been talking in circles? Five hours? Six? What have we actually achieved apart from a lot of hot air from the Government? If there are no proposals on the table, I think that says it all, Mr Speaker. We are dealing with a Government out of ideas, out of leadership, and I think it’s high time they were out of power.”

Cheers rose from the benches behind him.

“Order!” The Speaker’s gavel came down. “Mr Jackson-Smith. Please, be seated.”

Bernard inhaled and shook his head. “This has gone on long enough.”

He bolted through the House, snatched up the Queen’s ceremonial mace, and hefted it over his shoulder. “Gosh, this thing is heavier than it looks.”

The Health Secretary edged towards him, trying to grab the mace.

Bernard elbowed past and nudged a few of the opposition MPs aside for good measure.

“Order!” The gavel echoed around the chamber. “Put that back.”

Bernard raised the mace above his head and puffed out his chest. “This Parliament is dissolved.”

XII.

Breathing heavily, Bernard emerged outside with the mace resting over one shoulder. He squinted up at the rising sun and wrinkled his nose. “Well, that was a complete waste of time.”

Voices and footsteps echoed behind him.

Had he broken any laws? He wasn’t sure. It was too late to apologise. He wasn’t as fit as he once was, but he could still pack in a few miles on the treadmill—at least he could the last time he was at the gym. Whenever that was.

He turned and ran.

Rounding a corner, he staggered to a halt at the pile of bodies, some of them still burning. He buried his mouth and nose behind an elbow and carried on towards the nearest Tube station.

When he reached the entrance, he found it blocked off with makeshift fencing and ‘no entry’ signs.

He took his phone from his pocket and called Josh.

“Bernard? Do you know what time it is?”

“I don’t care. I need you in the office now.”

“What have you done?”

The phone crackled.

“Josh. You’re breaking up.”

The line went dead.

“For fuck’s sake.”

He tried to dial again.

Nothing.

XIII.

Bernard returned to his office and dropped the mace into his umbrella rack. He started at the sound of clapping.

Hillary got to his feet and offered him a bow. “A wonderful piece of political theatre. The Bard himself would be proud of that performance.” He shook his head and smiled. “I wish I’d thought of that myself.”

Bernard narrowed his eyes. He picked up the mace and pointed it at Hillary. “You threw me under the bus back there.”

“Bernie, Bernie. Come on, you know how this works. I was just saving face. You shot your load too early.”

“Yes, well. From what I understand, that’s a problem you’ve suffered with for a long time.”

Hillary chuckled and shook his head as he took a seat.

Bernard’s shoulders relaxed and he sat behind his desk, setting the mace in front of him. “How did they react?”

“You could say you created something of a constitutional shitstorm.”

Bernard raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Really?”

“You took the Queen’s mace. Without Her Majesty being represented, we were not allowed to sit.”

Bernard sniffed. “Such ridiculous traditions.”

Hillary raised a finger. “And it is those traditions that keep us from going down the shitter.”

Bernard drummed his fingers on the table. “Of course, of course.”

“Obviously, the PM wants to continue the debate.”

“That’s ridiculous. You can’t sit in Parliament without Her Majesty being represented.”

“Was that your plan?”

Bernard adjusted his collar. “I never know whether it’s too early or too late at this time for a drink. Port?”

“Why not?”

“The glasses are on the side.” He gestured to the drinks cabinet. “Near the decanter.”

Hillary stiffened for a moment before relenting.

Bernard’s mind raced with the possibilities. This was a human game of chess.

Placing the glasses between them, Hillary returned to his seat. “You never answered my question.”

“Which question?”

“The mace. Was that your plan?”

Bernard ran a finger along the mace’s head and swirled his glass under his nose. He quirked a half-smile at Hillary, allowing the tension to stretch between them.

He looked up when Josh arrived, breathless and unshaven. “Josh old boy,” Hillary said. “You look like you need a drink.”

Josh nodded. “Right. Sure.”

“What I’ve shown,” Bernard said, “is that Parliament is a complete and utter joke.” He grabbed the mace in one hand and turned it, watching the play of light along its handle. “It is time for a change.”

“I completely agree.” Hillary raised a glass and took a sip. “To change.”

Bernard glanced up at Josh and frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”

Josh looked down at his trembling hands, his bottom lip quivering. “So many bodies.”

“Yes, yes. There’s a plague, we know.” He turned back to Hillary. “So, I was thinking for our next move—”

Josh smacked Bernard’s glass from the table, shattering it against the wall, his eyes filled with rage. “Don’t you care about any of this? All you care about is your fucking power.”

Bernard got to his feet and wiped the spit from his face. “Stand down, Josh.”

“You’ve pushed too far this time.”

“Josh, I will not hesitate to give you your P45 if you carry on.”

“You’re mad for power. It’s—”

“It’s not about that. This is about leadership. This is about saving this country from an incompetent Government.”

“This is completely ridic—” Josh’s head snapped to the side as Bernard slapped him across the face.

Hillary winced.

Josh grabbed his cheek.

Standing over him, he patted the mace against his hand. “Pull yourself together, man. There’s a plague out there and we’ve got work to do.”

XIV.

“The canteen was closed,” Josh said, entering the office. “But I managed to get these.” He dropped a pair of packet sandwiches onto the desk.

Bernard snatched the ham and cheese, avoiding the salmon and cucumber.

Hillary frowned at the sandwiches, opened the packet, and pulled out the cucumber slices, tossing them into the bin. “My question is, how is all this going to work?” He took a mouthful and swallowed. “I think you’ve burned some bridges with the party tonight. And who knows where the Queen is.”

“As far as I can tell, this calls for a straight up coup.” Bernard flipped open his sandwich and removed the ham, rolling it into a cigar shape before eating. “I’ve got good friends in the Air Force and the Met. I’m sure the spooks will be on our side.”

“Well, the current Government did get a lot of their funding.” Josh joined them at the table and sat, a bright pink mark throbbing across his cheek. “As your advisor, I have to say that this is a bad, bad idea.”

Bernard waved a hand. “These are unusual times, Josh.”

“But what you’re talking about is...is treason.”

“It’s only treason if we lose.” He took a sip of port and leaned back in his seat. “If it does come to that, I’ll plead temporary insanity. What with the plague, and all. Who could argue?”

“This is too risky.” Josh frowned back at him, the dark circles under his eyes giving the impression of a skull. “It is a bad idea.”

“If you aren’t with me, you can fuck off then.” He pointed to the door. “You have two choices, Josh. You can go out there and get through this plague on your own, or you can stay with me and fight the good fight. What’s it to be?”

Josh took in a breath and nodded. “I’m staying. I just think—”

“Good. It’s settled.”

Hillary rose to his feet and brushed breadcrumbs from his jacket. “I’ll rally the troops.” He stared off into the middle distance. “I can see it now. Me as PM, you as Health Secretary.” He turned to Bernard and smiled. “Or would you prefer Chancellor?”

Not answering, Bernard looked down at his mace.

“Right.” Hillary moved towards the door. “I’ll see who’s around.”

“Indeed. Keep me posted.”

Hillary gave a mock salute and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Bernard got to his feet and began to pace, his jaw tightening. “Who the fuck does he think he is? The jumped-up prick.” He screwed up his sandwich packet and hurled it towards the door. “I’m the one who’s going to be Prime Minister. We can’t have a man with a girl’s name at the helm of this great country. We need to work out how to take him out.”

Josh raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Air whistled from Bernard’s nostrils. “Oh, I’m sure.”

XV.

Bernard hung up after speaking to one of his old school friends at MI5.

“What did he say?” Josh frowned at his phone.

“Noncommittal like the rest.” He shook his head. “Bunch of bastards. Why can’t they see my vision?”

“Maybe they’re worried about being recorded, or something.” Josh rubbed his stubbly chin. “You’re asking them to commit treason.”

“It’s not treason. I’m just taking control back from a shambolic, incompetent Government. If anything, this is the most patriotic thing I can do.”

“At least it’s selfless.”

“There’s that Cambridge sarcasm again.” He spoke in a merry singsong—it was either that or screaming in Josh’s face. The last thing he wanted to do was have the headache of covering up another assault. He cleared his throat. “This is selfless. If I fail, then we all fail.” He got to his feet and pointed a finger at Josh. “And, if I’m going down, I’m dragging you down with me. Do I make myself abundantly clear?”

Josh nodded. “Yep.”

“Speak up, man. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes. For fuck’s sake, yes!”

Bernard picked up the mace and turned it in his hand. “Well, you don’t have to sound like a surly teenager. I don’t want to have to ground you.”

The door swung open and Hillary marched in with a dozen or so men and women behind him.

“Oh, great.” Bernard sighed and sank into his seat, his voice dropping to a mumble. “Why did he have to bring the fucking nutter brigade?”

“You know Kevin and Graham?” Hillary gestured to the men, one fat with thinning, grey hair, the other skinny with a slick black side parting, his pointed features reminding Bernard of a cartoon rat with a cad’s moustache.

Shifting slowly from his seat, he shook hands with Graham, resisting the urge to look for evidence of a tail. “I haven’t had the pleasure. Good to finally get this opportunity to speak in person.”

Kevin slapped Bernard on the shoulder and shook his hand. “Oh, Bernie. That was a killer move. PM didn’t know where to look. You had him by the bollocks. Marvellous. Marvellous.” He had one of those northern accents, possibly Yorkshire or Lancashire, Bernard wasn’t really sure. It was all the same to him.

A woman with frizzy hair and a thick Birmingham accent gave him a hug and offered him a broad smile. “I can’t believe what I saw in there. That was brilliant. Absolute classic. You really stuck it to them. About time we took power back, take over, get rid of all the immigrants.”

Bernard chuckled. “Obviously, one thing at a time. This needs to be a military operation.”

Hillary clapped his hands, drawing the attention of the others. “Bernie is right. When I seize power, we will bring this country back to greatness.”

“Yeah, and then we can start sending them immigrants back.”

“I think my cleaners are immigrants,” Bernard said. “Never too fussy about minimum wage either. Cash-in-hand all the way.” He tapped his nose. “But mum’s the word.”

“Come on,” Hillary said, opening the door. “Let’s get a rally together. It’s time to make our voices heard.”

XVI.

Bernard signalled for Josh to move the crate a few inches to the left. He scanned Parliament Square, his gaze fixing for a moment on the statue of Robert Peel. The parallels were almost too much for Bernard—Peel had cleaned up London of crime and he was going to do the same with the Government.

Police watched on from roadblocks as other politicians joined the pack.

Hillary got onto the box. Bernard stood to his right, his chest puffed out and chin raised. This moment was crucial. He needed the others to see him as the true leader. He was Stalin to Hillary’s Lenin. A frown set on his brow at the bad comparison. No, he was Churchill and Hillary was Chamberlain, or maybe Chamberlain’s secretary.

“This is the dawn of a new day. We have decided that enough is enough.”

Applause and cheers echoed around the square.

“We need to be ready. We need to do what it takes. We are working on getting the military on our side. There’s resistance from the police, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Bernard held the mace up above his head. “For Britain!”

Hillary gave Bernard a sidelong glance as the crowd echoed his words. He hopped down from the box and sidled up to Bernard. “I think this is going to work.”

“I think you’re right.” Bernard smiled when a woman took photos on her phone. “Go and see what strings you can pull at the Home Office.”

Hillary nodded. “Good thinking. Be seeing you.”

Bernard watched the back of Hillary’s head as he strode away from the square. He sniffed his armpits when he raised the mace again and wrinkled his nose. “For Britain!”

XVII.

Bernard sauntered over to a pair of police officers blocking a Tube station entrance, their faces obscured by gas masks, rifles held under their arms.

Josh stood back, watching.

“Are the trains on?” He waved his Parliamentary pass.

“Sorry, sir. All the Tubes are off. Why are you carrying an offensive weapon?”

Bernard smiled at the mace. “Oh, this old thing. Just a Parliamentary prop. I don’t think I could squash a sandwich with the strength of my swing.”

“Watch where you’re waving it.” The officer looked down at his rifle’s muzzle. “We would hate to feel threatened.”

Bernard nodded to himself. “Which one of you two wants to drive me home?” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together and waggled his eyebrows. “I can make it worth your while.”

The officers stared at him through their masks.

“That was a joke.”

The taller one patted his rifle. “We have our orders.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yep. You’re that one who said the racist stuff on the telly.”

Bernard closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. “I did not know it was a racial slur at the time.” He showed them his palms. “The goalposts move so fast. I can’t keep up with the PC squad.”

Josh cleared his throat. “Bernie did apologise and made a sizable donation to a number of Muslim charities.”

“Hate speech is hate speech, sir.”

Bernard sniffed. “The idea of hate speech is an abomination of the law. Ridiculous lefty nonsense.” He raised a finger. “It is the intent that is hateful, not the configuration of syllables.”

The officers looked at him blankly.

One of them shrugged.

“So, are neither of you taking me home?”

The officers chuckled.

“Fine.” He narrowed his eyes. “When I’m in charge, you can say goodbye to your fucking pensions.”

“Good luck with that.”

The other officer laughed.

Bernard turned to them, his fists tightening. “You will see.”

Josh grabbed his elbow. “Come on. They’ve got guns. We haven’t.”

XVIII.

Bernard stormed past gaping shop windows, glass shards crunching beneath his shoes.

“What the devil has been going on here?” He pointed the mace to a shop door hanging off its hinges. “This is supposed to be a respectable area.”

Josh shrugged. “Looks like people have been smashing windows.”

“Obviously. Do you think it was looters? Rioters? This wouldn’t be the first time that young hoodlums took advantage to steal some shoes and laptops.”

A gangly lad with a baseball cap and spliff behind his ear swaggered up to Bernard from nowhere and looked him up and down. “You that fucking politician?”

“I think you must have me mistaken for someone else. Happens all the time.”

“It is you. I’ve seen you on the telly.”

Bernard went to sidestep him. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Where you going? Don’t fucking turn your nose up at me, you posh prick.” The young man pulled a knife. “Give me your fucking phone and your fucking wallet.”

Bernard patted himself down. “I appear to have left my wallet—” He swung the mace and connected with the lad’s head.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

Josh cringed away as the young man lay in a heap, his head caved in, his eyes blank.

Bernard glanced around, making sure they had not been seen. “We need to get rid of this.”

Josh stared at the body.

“For fuck’s sake. Josh!” He waved a hand in front of Josh’s face. “Come on. Help me hide this over there.” He pointed to a nearby alleyway.

With a languid nod, Josh took hold of the man’s ankles.

Bernard dragged the body by the shoulders and dropped it behind a pile of refuse sacks, the stench of rotting food mingling with stale urine. “This will have to do.”

Leaning down, he turned out the lad’s pockets and held up a clear bag of brown powder.

“What are you doing?”

“Making it look like a mugging, of course. If the police investigate a street robbery, they are not going to suspect someone like me, are they?”

“This is London. Someone’s going to recognise you.”

“No. This is a city under quarantine.” He reached into the lad’s jacket pocket and pulled out a hypodermic syringe, its needle stuffed into a wine cork.

Making sure Josh did not see, he pocketed the syringe, got to his feet, and brushed himself down. “Onwards.”

XIX.

Bernard unlocked his apartment door and ushered Josh inside.

Josh stared around the walls in awe. “Wow.”

Bernard paced across the marble floor and dropped the mace onto a red leather chesterfield.

The apartment was open-plan with high ceilings. An emerald-shaded lamp stood on a side table next to the sofa.

A portrait of Bernard loomed over the fireplace, eight-feet high and six-feet wide. He always like the way he looked in that image—like a true leader, magnificent and stoic, though the artist’s insistence that he not wield a sword remained a bone of contention. “Please, feel free to take a seat.”

Josh nodded and edged towards a high-backed armchair.

“Not there. The chesterfield.” He raised a finger. “Actually, do be a sport and see what you can rustle up for us in the kitchen. There should be some ham and cheese in the fridge.”

Before Josh had a chance to answer, Bernard padded through to his bedroom and slipped off his jacket, draping it across the bed. He kicked off his trousers and shoes, making his way into his en-suite bathroom.

The water spluttered when he tried to wash, so he doused himself in deodorant.

Returning to his room, he retrieved a pair of brilliant white handkerchiefs from a drawer, his monogram embroidered into one corner. He changed his shirt into one of the same design and slid back into his jacket and trousers.

Once he had sunk into his armchair, Josh handed him a plate of sliced ham and Wensleydale.

“I need to know something.” He tore a strip of ham and popped it into his mouth. “Are you going to be a warrior?”

Josh frowned.

“I need to know that you will not shy away from what needs to be done.”

“I’ve always been loyal.”

Bernard swallowed and cocked an eyebrow at Josh. “That’s not really what I asked, is it?” He got to his feet and set his plate on the side table. “Follow me.”

He marched along a hall and into a long room. Signalling for Josh to close the door, he unlocked a second door. Inside, a single-barrel shotgun stood against a rack. “This was my father’s. He killed a lion with this.” He knew it was unloaded, but his father always taught him to never assume anything when it came to guns.

Satisfied it was not loaded, he passed it to Josh along with a box of shells.

“What do we need one of these things for?”

Bernard looked down and shook his head. “Have you ever used one?”

Josh shook his head. “I shot a .22 when I was in Air Cadets.”

“It’s really very simple.” He showed Josh how to load a shell and handed it back.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“I need a warrior, Josh. I need a bodyguard. A promotion for me will be a promotion for you.”

Josh looked down the barrel and nodded. “I think I can do that.”

“You think?”

“I will.” He took in a deep breath. “I’m a warrior.”

XX.

Bernard tried to call Hillary again, but there was still no signal. “Damn.” He tossed his phone onto the sofa and sank into his armchair. “Will you get Hillary on the line? My phone’s going haywire.”

Josh adjusted the shotgun strapped around his shoulder and checked his phone. “There’s no signal in here.”

“There should be.”

“But there isn’t.”

“Fine. Forget it.” He glanced towards the front door and back towards the bedroom. “I don’t know about you, but I could certainly do with a good sleep.”

“That would be good.” Josh stretched and let out a yawn. “It’s been a crazy twenty-four hours.”

“You’re welcome to sleep on the sofa.” Not waiting for an answer, Bernard strode over to his bedroom, closed the door behind him, and flopped onto the bed, shifting out of his clothes and crawling under the sheets.

He frowned at the knock at the door and sat up. “What is it?” “Can I have a blanket?”

“You can take one off the spare bed. It’s in the room across the way.”

“Can’t I just sleep in that? Leather sofas give me rashes.”

Bernard growled and pulled the sheets around his shoulders. “You work it out. Just go to sleep and leave me alone.”

XXI.

The next morning, Bernard dressed in fishing waders, washing-up gloves, and his father’s safari helmet. He tied a handkerchief around his mouth and nose and stepped out of his room.

Josh gasped, his hand rising to his chest. “What are you wearing?”

“Oh, this? I figured it would stave off the infection.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Josh. “Here. Don’t say I don’t do anything for you.”

Josh looked down and nodded. “Thanks.” He gestured towards the kitchen. “What about breakfast?”

“I’ve already eaten.” He heaved the mace onto his shoulder. “Grab your gun. We need to leave.”

XXII.

When Bernard returned to his office, he slipped the handkerchief from his mouth, letting it hang around his neck. He stared at the clock as Josh thumbed through his phone. “Anything from Hillary?”

“Nothing. The network’s down.”

Bernard leaned back in his seat and rubbed his chin. “Do you think he’s leaving us out of the loop?”

Josh shrugged. “Hard to say.”

“He’s scared of me. He knows I’ll make a better leader.”

“People love you, Bernie. As you say, there’s no way the country wants to be led by a guy a with a woman’s name. It’ll make us look weak on the international stage.”

Bernard leaned on his elbows and steepled his fingers. “Let’s say Hillary does become PM. Will that work out better for me?”

“Possibly. He could be a short-term ‘leader in a crisis’ before you step in.”

“I could push from the sidelines, undermine him through back channels. I’ll make it clear that I’m the obvious leader, but that I’m too humble to take the reins. It should be the people who decide.”

“You’re already the obvious leader.”

Bernard smiled. “Now I know you’re just rubbing my ego.”

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t say stop. Think of my ego like a magic lamp.”

“Or a cock.”

Bernard cleared his throat. “Yes, well.” He picked up his desk phone and dialled Hillary, sitting back as it rang and rang.

Slamming the receiver down, he let out a sigh and shot to his feet. “This is ridiculous. I need you to find that, that blaggard, and bring him here. I think we need to let him know who’s really in charge.”

XXIII.

Bernard sat alone in his office, drumming a rhythm on his desk. He tried to call Hillary again, but the phone rang out. “Josh?” He looked around the office. “Josh?”

He pulled the handkerchief over his nose and made his way outside.

He wandered the streets until he came across the body of a young woman.

A sneer passed along his face as he stared down at the inflated, purple buboes around her neck.

Groping inside his jacket, he stopped when his fingers brushed against a syringe. He pulled the needle free from the cork. A line of white light glinted along its edge.

He drove the needle into the biggest bubo and pulled the plunger, filling the syringe with pus.

Cringing at the sight of the foul liquid, he slid the cork back onto the needle and dropped it gently into his jacket pocket.

XXIV.

Bernard smiled when he returned to his office to find Josh and Hillary waiting for him. “Hello Hillary. Sorry about that. Just had to visit the little boy’s room.”

“Did you catch any trout while you were there?”

Bernard frowned. “Trout?” He glanced down at his waders and chuckled. “Ah, very good. As I’m sure you can appreciate, much of what I do is wading through shit.”

“You didn’t happen to see Kevin when you were out and about, did you? He said he was going to the little boy’s room, too.”

“Yes, well. If the rumours are true, I think he has a different little boy’s room in mind.”

They shared a hearty laugh.

Josh’s eyes widened. “Is he a pervert?”

Bernard tapped his nose. “Let’s just say he likes them still at Eton.”

Josh shook his head.

“Have you offered Hillary a cup of tea?”

“No, sorry. I—”

Bernard waved a hand. “I’ll do it. Josh, you sit down. I need you to be a warrior, remember?”

A crease set between his brows. “Do you know where the kettle is?”

Bernard laughed. “Of course. It’s in the kitchen area, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Bernard ambled into the kitchen. Water spluttered from the tap as he filled the kettle.

When the water boiled, he poured the teas and added milk.

Glancing over his shoulder, he retrieved the syringe from his jacket and squeezed the pus into Hillary’s cup.

Satisfied, he slid the cork back over the needle and placed it in his jacket pocket.

He returned to his seat and set Hillary’s drink in front of him.

Josh frowned at the cups. “Did you make me one?”

“You know where the kettle is.” He slid his glasses on. “So, what’s the progress with our little coup?”

Hillary looked down at his hands. “Our friends at MI5 haven’t quite been as enthusiastic as I might have liked.”

“You should charm them with your charisma. You’re a natural leader, Hillary.”

Hillary picked up his cup and sniffed. “Is there sugar in this?”

Bernard slapped his forehead. “Josh. Fetch the sugar cubes.”

He glanced down at the shotgun. “What about—”

“Get it done, man.” He rolled his eyes at Hillary. “Honestly.”

“Just can’t get the right staff nowadays.”

“I agree. You should have seen the look he gave me when I told him that if someone messes with my Wikipedia page at ten at night, he needs to be on duty to fix it.”

“It’s these millennials. They don’t know what hard work means.”

Josh returned with a bowl of sugar cubes and dropped two into Hillary’s cup.

Hillary nodded his thanks and cradled the cup in both hands. “The top brass at the Met think we should wait. They say they’ve got enough to deal with without the potential for more unrest.”

Bernard sniffed. “More unrest? Half of London is smashed-up and the other half is lying dead in the gutter.”

“I didn’t realise you’d had chance to look around.”

Bernard rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, between my apartment and here, I spoke to a few officers. Good lads. They like me.”

“That’s good.”

“There were broken shop windows. Someone tried to mug me.”

“What happened?”

Bernard shuffled in his seat and glanced down at the mace. “You know how it goes. I talked him out of it. He recognised me from television.”

Josh glared at him.

Hillary sipped his tea and scrunched his nose. “I think your kettle needs descaling.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” He turned to Josh. “Did you learn how to descale a kettle at Cambridge?”

Josh shrugged. “Oxford. I don’t think that’s in my job description.”

“Check your contract. ‘All other duties as required’ can have a very broad interpretation.”

“I don’t think the kettle’s why it tastes so bad.”

Bernard frowned. Did he know?

“I think there’s issues with the water supply.”

“Yes.” Bernard nodded. “It did seem a struggle to get the water out.”

“Tea is tea.” Hillary took a long swig and set the cup aside. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t think I’ll be drinking any more.”

“Hopefully you’ve had enough to wet your whistle.”

Hillary rose to his feet. “A few of us are going to have a bit of a huddle, see if we can hammer out a plan going forward.”

Bernard pushed out his bottom lip. “Excellent.”

“I need to meet them in the lobby.”

“I’ll catch you up.”

Hillary gave a quick salute and pulled up his jacket collar. “Be seeing you.”

Bernard waved. “Goodbye, Hillary.”

XXV.

Bernard returned to the House of Commons to find it dead. His gaze drifted along the empty seats. He loved this place.

He climbed onto the despatch box and spread his arms wide. “I am the new Prime Minister.” He raised his head and let out a roar.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Josh watching him from the press gallery. “Is there a problem?”

Josh made a slight nod.

Bernard dropped from the despatch box. “Is there something you want to say?”

“No.”

“That’s no, Prime Minister.”

“I’m not sure it works like that.”

“Well, I suggest you had better start getting used to it.”

XXVI.

Bernard made his way through Parliament’s winding corridors. A police officer blocked the exit.

“Shadow Secretary. What are you still doing here?”

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

“It is my business. My job is to evacuate the building.” The officer looked down at the mace, his gaze drifting to the shotgun. “You really shouldn’t be carrying those weapons.”

“We’ve been accosted by muggers out on the streets.” Bernard pointed behind him. “Let me explain something to you. I’m going to be the Prime Minister of this country. So, I need to be protected.”

“Didn’t you once say the Government should be doing more about vigilante violence? Wasn’t there something about leaving it to the professionals?”

“Where were the police when a young hoodlum tried to rob me?”

“I—”

“I don’t have time to debate this. Where are the others?”

The police officer sighed and began to walk. “Follow me.”

XXVII.

The police officer closed the shutters behind them, sending the underground tunnel into darkness. The officer clicked on his torch, his light shining down smooth concrete walls.

“What happened to the lights?”

“Don’t you worry about that. We’ve got people trying to repair the backup generators.”

“This is incompetence of the highest order.”

“As I’m sure you’re aware, our resources have been stretched way past their limits.”

Bernard nodded. “Well, you know whose fault that is. This is why I need to be Prime Minister.”

The officer smirked. “What? You think you can do better?”

“I know I can. I think it’s fair to say that an inebriated donkey could do a better job.”

“As you say, sir. This way.” The officer made a right through a door into another corridor.

Low-wattage light bulbs dotted the ceiling, barely offering any additional light.

“At least these lights are working.”

“Different generator, sir.”

“I hope you’re leading me to my party. Last thing you want is to be stuck in a room with a bunch of dirty lefties.”

The officer came to a halt and glanced back along the tunnel. “I could have sworn it was this way.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re lost.”

“Not so much lost as geographically unsure.”

Bernard shook his head and turned to Josh. “He’s fucking lost. Can you believe this incompetent boob?”

Josh nodded. “It’s a complete shambles. Utter incompetence.”

“Do I detect that Cambridge sarcasm again?”

Josh shook his head. “Oxford. No. You’d think he’d know where he’s going.”

“This way, I’m sure.” The officer made a left, then another, doubling back when he reached a dead end.

“Give me that.” Bernard snatched the torch from the officer’s hand. “Come on Josh. This man is of no help.”

He led the way back through the warren of tunnels, ignoring the officer’s shouts as they faded behind him.

After half an hour wandering through the passages, Bernard stopped and raised a hand. “Listen. Voices.”

He pointed his mace ahead and followed the sound. Torchlight sprayed across the walls.

A crack of light filtered from beneath the door ahead.

Bernard raised his chin and opened the door.

A group of men and women looked up from their chairs.

Bernard’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the Health Secretary. “You.”

“How the hell did you get down here, Bernard?” The Health Secretary rocked to his feet. “Made any racial slurs lately?”

“Watched any rent boys take a shit on a table recently?”

“Are you sure that was him?”

Bernard shrugged at Josh. “Either way, he’s a cunt.”

The Health Secretary puffed out his chest. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I do apologise. I meant to say you were a complete and utter fucking cunt.”

“I don’t have to listen to this.”

Josh tapped Bernard’s shoulder. “Actually, I think he’s the one who got his advisor pregnant and forced her to have an abortion.”

Bernard sighed. “My original assessment stands.”

“I don’t think this is any—”

“Be quiet.” Bernard hefted the mace from his shoulder. “I’m not surprised to find you and your cronies down here, hiding like rats in a flood.” He pointed to the ceiling. “You should be up there, dealing with the plague.” He raised his chin. “This is why I’m taking charge.”

The Health Secretary took a step backwards. “Will you please stop swinging that thing? You’re going to hurt someone.”

“What makes you think I haven’t?” He swung the mace towards the Health Secretary, making him jump back. Bernard threw his head back and laughed.

“You’re a bloody prick, you are, Bernard. You call us incompetent, but it beats your Eton mess of a shadow cabinet.”

“You’re just jealous that I was bred for power.”

“Like a fucking racehorse. Well, maybe it’s time someone had you shot and sent to the knacker’s yard.” The Health Secretary shoved against him, squaring up to him.

Bernard shifted to the right and swung, the mace striking the Health Secretary’s temple with a deep, cracking thud.

His head twisted too far.

He slumped to the ground, his neck bent at an awkward angle.

“What have you done?” A woman knelt over him. “He’s dead. He’s fucking dead.”

Bernard raised a hand and stepped back towards the door. “It was self-defence. He started it. Isn’t that right, Josh?”

“You were defending yourself.”

Bernard looked around at the shocked faces and shrugged. “I think we’ve outstayed our welcome here. Come on, Josh.”

XXVIII.

Bernard shook the torch as its light turned brown. The smell of damp and dust filled the tunnels. He brushed cobwebs from his face.

After a while, Josh stopped. “Voices.”

“Excellent.” Bernard moved towards the door at the corridor’s end. “Let’s hope this is our lot.”

He opened the door and entered.

Men and women sat in chairs. Familiar faces. Friendly faces. Hillary got to his feet. “Bernie, old boy. You made it!”

“Yes, had to take the initiative. A bloody police officer couldn’t find his arse from his elbow.”

“Well, you’re here.”

He looked Hillary up and down. He seemed full of vitality.

“We’ve drawn up a plan while you were gone.”

“Without me?”

“Yes. We weren’t sure whether you’d make it.” Hillary shrugged a shoulder. “When this plague blows over, we’re going to set up an inquiry. We’re going to really drag the PM and Health Secretary over the coals.”

“Really?” Bernard raised an eyebrow and cast his gaze along the faces. “And you’re all happy with this?”

A few people gave unsure nods.

Bernard raised his chin. “Well, I say we need to act now. While they are huddled down here like rats, we can seize Number 10 by force.”

“Bernard, no.” Hillary folded his arms. “This has gone too far. This is a democracy, not some bloody shit-hole country.”

Bernard prodded Hillary’s chest. “Look, you’re either with me, or you’re against me.” He leaned close to Hillary’s ear, his voice dropping to a growl. “And let me tell you, if you are against me, there will be no forgiveness. Do I make myself abundantly clear?”

Hillary gritted his teeth and glanced back at the others.

“Either come with me or stay down here and rot. It’s your choice.”

“Bernie, we have procedures for a reason. We need everything to be above board.”

“We can worry about procedures later.” He raised the mace above his head. “Who’s with me?”

The others cheered.

“What are you waiting for?” He turned and strode back along the tunnel. “It’s time for action.”

XXIX.

Bernard led the others through the tunnels, his jaw tight with purpose and determination. This was exactly the type of thing he wanted to be remembered for when the others got around to publishing their memoirs—heroism, leadership. The rest he would deny.

He carried on through doors until they reached a dead end.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Hillary asked.

Bernard shifted. “Of course.”

“Bollocks. You’re lost.”

“Not lost. It’s a moment of geographical uncertainty.”

“He’s lost.” Hillary turned to the others and threw his hands up. “He’s fucking lost.”

“Look, I’m sure if we keep going, we’ll find a way out.”

“Eventually,” Josh muttered.

“See, the boy knows what he’s talking about. Let’s keep going.”

After ten minutes or so, Bernard came across a door that led into a Tube station.

He smiled and gestured to the tiled walls as he trudged up the steps, barging through the police tape as officers gaped at him.

“You shouldn’t be in there. This is a restricted area.”

Bernard flashed his lobby pass. “Fuck off.”

XXX.

Bernard led the procession past a row of shops. Glass shards lay strewn across the ground. Grey clouds hung in the sky.

He skirted past a skip stuffed with burned corpses.

A man screamed behind him and dropped to his knees, clawing at his hair.

Bernard stood over him and frowned. “What’s wrong with you, man?”

The man laughed wildly. “Look around you. It’s the fucking apocalypse.” Sweat pooled on his forehead.

“This is just a blip.” Bernard stepped back and pointed his mace at him. “Take off your shirt.”

The man shook his head.

“You’re sweating like a nonce on an ID parade. Lift your shirt or my advisor here will have no choice but to shoot.”

The man nodded and lifted his shirt over his head. He hugged himself against the chill.

“Lift up your arms.”

The others gasped at the purple buboes.

“Shit.” He turned to Josh. “Pull the trigger.”

“No, he’s—”

“He’s infected. He could have killed us all. Shoot him. Do it. Now!”

Josh squeezed the trigger.

A gaping hole appeared in the man’s stomach.

Bernard adjusted the handkerchief over his mouth. “I’m sorry that had to happen.” He turned to the others. “We need to keep this infection from spreading. Anyone with a problem can speak to my advisor here.”

Josh pumped the shotgun. “Anyone?”

XXXI.

Bernard led the way into a hardware shop as the others milled around the shelves. “Get anything that can be used as a weapon.”

He grabbed a woodcutting axe from the wall and handed it to Hillary.

“What’s this for?”

Bernard narrowed his eyes. “This is war.”

Hillary looked down and nodded. “Right.”

XXXII.

Bernard led the procession to Downing Street.

There were no signs of police, no signs of security.

Bernard knocked at the door to Number 10 and waited.

Hillary paced behind him. “There’s no way we’re getting in.”

The door opened a crack and a man stared through the gap.

“Prime Minister,” Bernard said with a smile. “Thank goodness you are still alive.” He shoved his foot between the door and the frame.

The Prime Minister’s thin-lipped smile dropped, his eyes widening at the sight of the weapons. “What do you want?”

“It’s time for you to step down.”

XXXIII.

Bernard marched at Hillary’s side while the others carried the Prime Minister on their shoulders, manhandling him as he kicked and screamed.

Ravens scattered as they entered the grounds to the Tower of London.

Bernard signalled to a stone block. “Over there.”

“What exactly are you planning here, Bernie?” Hillary asked.

“We are performing our civic duty.” Bernard snatched the axe from Hillary’s grasp and checked its edge against the light.

Three men held the Prime Minister over a stone block.

Bernard paced in front of him. “You are hereby charged with dereliction of duty to your country. You have committed treason. How do you plead?”

The Prime Minister turned to the others. “Please. This is madness.”

“Bernie, you don’t have to do this,” Hillary said.

“Yes, I do.”

“This is not how we do democracy,” the Prime Minister said. “Bernie, please. You—”

“This isn’t about democracy, you snivelling little prick. This is about putting power in the right hands.” He leaned towards the Prime Minister. “What do you have to say about your incompetent, shambolic so-called Government?”

The Prime Minister sobbed. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you have ruined this great country. People are dead because of you and your complete and utter incompetence.” Bernard hefted the axe. “I’m sorry. I have no choice but to sentence you to death for treason and...I don’t know...being a useless fucking prick.”

He swung down, gritting his teeth as the axe lodged in the Prime Minister’s neck.

Rasping, gurgling sounds came out as he tried to prise it from between the neck bones.

Freeing the axe head, he staggered backwards, composed himself, and swung down again.

The head toppled to the ground and the others let out a cheer.

He raised the head high into the air and held it for the others to see. “Ding Dong, the prick is dead.”

XXXIV.

Bernard twisted the former Prime Minister’s head onto a fence spike overlooking the Thames. “We are in the dawn of a new age, an age where we finally start to get things done.” He tilted his head and frowned at Hillary. “Cheer up, old boy. This is what you want, isn’t it?”

Hillary nodded weakly.

Bernard pointed the mace at him. “I think Hillary’s infected.”

The others backed away.

“Josh.”

Josh levelled the shotgun at Hillary.

“Take off your shirt, man. Let’s not try any funny business now.”

Hillary coughed and a spurt of blood burst from his mouth.

Bernard closed his eyes and gave the nod.

Josh pulled the trigger.

XXXV.

Bernard stood at the despatch box, smiling as the others accepted him as Prime Minister. “Thank you. Thank you. It has been an arduous fight to get here, but the true fight has only just begun. As our first course of action, we need to mobilise the Royal Navy. We should have a strict evacuation protocol. We have aircraft carriers and oil rigs we can use until the plague has passed. We will send Special Forces to clear out Anglesey to use as a base for our operations. We need to get our top minds working on a cure.” He coughed and wobbled slightly. “Excuse me.”

He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief.

“We will mobilise the Army to separate those infected from those who are not. Until a cure is found, we should consider those who are sick a lost cause. If they manage to survive, then all well and good, but we have to look out for the rest of us.”

He coughed and looked down at blood on his hands. His eyes met Josh’s, who aimed the shotgun at him.

Bernard raised his hands. “You don’t—”

Josh smiled. “Yes, I do.”

THE END

Author’s note

Thank you for reading Black Death London. I wrote the first draft of this story in 2018.

Before I became a full-time fiction writer in 2017, I worked as a political reporter and as the press officer for a UK Member of Parliament.

Working around politicians, it did not take me long to realise that often the people drawn to power are precisely the ones you want as far away from it as possible.

This isn’t a party thing. It’s not a left or right thing. It’s about human nature, motivations, and the lengths some will go to satisfy their own ends.

Black Death London is, of course, a complete work of fiction and none of the characters involved are real. It’s a parody, deliberately exaggerated.

However, I have to admit that revisiting this story in July 2021 sent a few chills down my spine.

Bernard Jackson-Smith may be made up, but I’ve witnessed his traits, behaviours, machinations, and hypocrisy several times. He’s a career politician who sees power as an end in itself, as nothing more than a cynical game. If you don’t like Bernard, if you think he is a vile, misogynistic, racist prick, that’s okay – I do, too.

I wish these kinds of characters only existed in fiction.

Is the story too close to the bone? Too close to reality? Or, perhaps, it’s too tame compared to how things really played out in response to Covid-19?

I’ll leave that for you to decide.

Jon Cronshaw, July 2021.

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Birth of Assassins.

Blind Gambit.

The Ravenglass Chronicles.

The Wasteland Series.

––––––––

The Ravenglass Chronicles

Acknowledgements

Thank you to everyone who made this work possible. Especially to my family and friends who’ve supported me in countless ways.

I’ve got a great team of people helping me get my books to the highest standard I can, so thank you to my street team, you guys rock!

I also want to thank the members of the Sci-fi Roundtable and Why Aren’t You Writing for their support. Sometimes writing books can be a lonely business, so having that kind of support means a great deal.

This book was edited by Claire from cherryedits.com

Clarissa Yeo at Yocla Designs made the cover and I think it’s great.

About the Author

Jon Cronshaw is a full-time fantasy and speculative fiction author based in Morecambe, England.

Born in Wolverhampton, he has a PhD in the history of art and has written for local and national newspapers across the UK.

He’s an avid reader, podcaster, and history geek.

You can follow his author journey on Jon Cronshaw’s Author Diary podcast, available at anchor.fm/joncronshaw, or wherever you listen to podcasts.

Read more at Jon Cronshaw’s site.