Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning (50 page)

              Connor disappeared at some point, walking away down the road in the search of a car. Winter could see him walking, hunched over something every now and then, which he held in his hand.

              William tried to calm Gerry down, while staying close to Laura. Laura seemed to sense that she was being protected, and looked annoyed. With each distraction, worries increased between them all.

              “Are you ready?” Gerry asked for the hundredth time.

              “Connor isn’t here yet.”

              “Where has he gone?”

              “He wandered off down the road.”

              Gerry looked alarmed. “Shit. I thought I told everyone to stay within the group? How fucking dangerous does he want to be?”

              Winter exchanged glances with William.

              “CONNOR.” Gerry boomed. “CONNOR?”

              Winter looked around for him, feeling slightly apprehensive.

              “CONNOR?”

              “I’m here, I’m here!”

              Winter followed the sound. Connor was stood on the other side of the road, hidden behind a red car. He waved and looked unharmed.

              “Bloody idiot,” Oliver muttered.

              Winter threw him a look. She hoped when they got on the boat she could leave Oliver behind.

              As Connor made his way back to their side of the road, the group hurried towards him, their items mounted upon their backs. Everyone was set on getting into London, because then the real stuff would begin. Then, they would have to get to the Thames, at last.

              They were walking at a quick pace, brisk and determined. They stopped when they came across a commotion in the middle of the three lanes, just a few feet away from a junction.

              Lying on its roof was a Jeep, similar to the one Gerry and Oliver had shared the night before. It was free of any glass, surrounded by the shards, and covered in blood. Scrapes on the road led to another car with flat tyres and yet more smashed windows. A third car had tried to avoid the commotion, leaving tyre marks on the road before coming to stop halfway up the bank. The other cars around it seemed to have been lucky, but they were empty, dented and broken.

              “It started here,” Laura said. “Look at all of the blood.”

              It wasn’t just the blood Winter had noticed. It was the stench. The stench of death. The stench that would be remembered when The Dead Years were over.

              “What do you think happened?” William asked, staring at a particularly nasty bloodstain.

              “Someone infected, possibly heading towards hospital, when they just snapped,” Gerry said.

              “You think anyone stood a chance?”

              “Does it look like it?” Oliver said.

              “As soon as these cars crashed, the lines of people around them were forced to stop. Who knows if anybody else on this road was infected, but I’d say there probably were,” Gerry said. “You’ve all seen how fast they are. They bite, run, bite another, and in no time at all you’ve got a small army of the dead around you.”

              Winter imagined the scene. Panic as the dead approached your cars. The feeling of knowing something was horribly wrong, but you were too late to escape, too late to act on anything. She imagined the sounds of cars breaking, stopping, crashing. Car doors slamming and running footsteps, echoing the pounding hearts of the people who knew life was about to end. She could hear the screams, absorbed into the stone of the road.

              “There’s a good thing, though,” Laura said.

              Winter turned to her. She was looking beyond the crashed cars.

              Gerry followed her line of sight and smiled. “Free road.”

              Winter hadn’t noticed, but now she saw that beyond the crash, only the odd car remained. People had driven past the crash, unable to do anything but carry on. Many of them had managed to escape the infection, at least for a little bit longer.

              They hurried past the wrecked cars, passing the odd number of cars grouped together beyond the crash that had stayed behind, not realising how much of a mistake that had been. As they made their way further down, passing cars that were too ruined to drive, they noticed the decline in cars. The road was much clearer now, but here odd bodies were scattered. Winter tried not to look at the crows pecking away at dead flesh, but the sight was something that kept drawing her eyes.

              “I’ve got it! I’ve got one!” Connor called.

              A small Fiesta stood before him, blue with the registration 53. One window had been smashed, but Winter saw that he was looking down at the ignition, where keys hung holding up many a keychain.

              “We’re not all going to fit in there,” Oliver scoffed.

              “Well gladly stay behind,” Laura said.

              She climbed into the back of the car, squeezing up to the back door and somehow managing to keep all of her stuff away from anyone but herself. William followed her and Winter went next. Connor winked at her before she climbed in.

              She suddenly realised she was by the window with no glass and suddenly felt panic. She almost said they needed to find another car when Gerry climbed in next to her, squeezing in and looking awkward.

              “Not much room, is there?”

              With their bags and four people sat side-by-side, the back had become a claustrophobic nightmare.

              Connor climbed into the driver’s seat. He opened the passenger door and looked at Oliver.

              “Are you getting in mate?”

              Oliver looked left and right, before checking the watch casually. If they missed the ship, Winter would never forgive Oliver. In fact, she would make sure he learnt never to cross her again.

              “GET IN.” Gerry shouted.

              Oliver glared at him through the broken window. If looks could kill Gerry would have died right then and there. He climbed into the front of the car, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

              Connor started the car. It jerked and groaned but didn’t move.

              “Typical.” Oliver muttered.

              Connor glanced at him before trying the key again.

              “Do you know how to drive, mate?” Oliver taunted.

              Once more, Connor turned the key and the car started. The engine began to run and the radio sprang into life. White noise blared into the car. Winter winced before Oliver, who punched it viciously as if it was Gerry, turned it off.

              “Come on, let’s get to London,” William urged.

              They began to drive forward, slowly at first so Connor could move to a free lane where he could pick up speed.

              “Is there anything on the radio?” Laura asked, as if this was just a regular trip.

              “Try and get the Paris radio,” William said.

              “What’s the station?” Connor asked, looking down at the radio and fiddling with the buttons.

              “Eyes on the road, Connor,” Gerry warned.

              He did as he was told, but a few seconds later he glanced down again. “What station?”

              He glanced at William through the cracked mirror.

              “I don’t know, our radio never says,” William said. “They do mention it though. Try 132.6 FM.”

              Connor looked back at the road, steered the car to the right lane to avoid a couple of non-moving bodies, and then looked back down at the radio.

              He began searching the stations, white noise after white noise following until he struck the odd channel with distorted voices.

              “Is that it?” Laura craned her neck.

              “No, that’s something else.”

              “Eyes on the road,” Gerry said again.

              Connor did as he was told, leaving the radio on a dead channel while he avoided a few parked up cars. Once the road was clear again he began to search.

              “Give up, you’re not going to find anything,” Oliver said to Connor.

              “Fuck off, mate.”

              Oliver tried moving Connor’s hand.

              “What are you doing?”

              “You’re annoying me, just drive!”

              “I’m trying to find the fucking radio station.”

              “You’re not going to find it, just drive.”

              Connor pushed away Oliver’s arm. He went back to the radio, steering the car slightly to the left.

              “Oh fuck. Connor, look out!”

              Connor looked up in a panic. He screamed. Stood in the middle of the road, in a gaggle, were the dead. They all turned to look at the oncoming car. They hissed and screeched, reaching out their hands, unable to believe their luck.

              But Connor had driven too close to move back. Without realising, he had gone too fast. The zombies were only feet away from the car bonnet, ready to attack. The car swerved, and they were all thrown to one side. Winter was glad they had packed together. Everyone gripped on to something and managed to stay where they were. She heard Oliver swear, saw Laura turn in her seat to find a seatbelt.

              “Shit, shit, shit.”

              Connor turned the car to the other side, away from the zombies. Winter realised the broken window was open for the zombies, and she saw they had realised it, too. They began to attack the car, hitting the metal.

              “You’re going to hit it!”

              Winter, feeling like she was about to come out of her seat, saw Connor drive the car into three zombies. They flew over the roof, but the car buckled and spun around. Connor spun the car again but lost control. It flipped and they rolled with three thuds. When it came to a stop, Winter could see the feet of the zombies running towards them. They were upside down. She knew they needed to get out.

              Gerry was looking at Winter in panic. He was tangled in the seatbelt, trying to climb out of his side of the window. Laura was climbing across Winter to get to the front.

              “Get out, we have to get out,” she screamed.

              The car was surrounded. Gerry was grabbed by rotting hands.

              Winter grabbed his coat, pulling against the surprising strength of the dead. William saw what she was doing and helped.

              “Connor, we need to get out,” Oliver said. “We need to get into another car.”

              Connor didn’t reply. Winter wouldn’t look. She hadn’t heard him speak since the crash.

              Suddenly, the coat slipped from underneath her hands. William shouted, replacing the voice Winter suddenly lost. Gerry was pulled from under the car, and in seconds blood began to pour onto the floor mingled with Gerry’s screams.

              “Oh my god, no, no, Gerry, no.” Laura began to cry from the front of the car.

              Winter looked at her and saw the girl she had always suspected Laura to be. She was huddled between Oliver and Connor, desperately trying to disappear into the car.

              “My side is free.” Connor spoke. Winter looked at him. Blood poured down his eye. He looked at Winter and saw her concern. “I’m fine, but we only have a few seconds. We have to get out my side.”

              Winter looked at their side in the back. Part of the roof had dented, blocking any exit from the window, except for the smallest of gaps.

              “Do you think we can get through there?”

              William was slender. If they were quick they could get out, but if they got stuck they were doomed.

              “We have to get out somehow,” Oliver said. “Gerry just died, and I’m not going the same way.”

              It was the first time Winter had seen Oliver panic. Genuine panic. It wasn’t forced and it wasn’t contrived. It was different to the incident back in Canon’s Park when he had reported on the death of Helena. It was real.

              She had no more time to think of it. The car slid across the road a few feet from the pushing of the dead on the outside. Laura screamed and the car moved again.

              “They’re listening to Laura. They want Laura.” William whispered.

              “Laura, Laura listen to me, you have to be quiet, okay?” Winter pleaded, grabbing Laura’s trembling wrists.

              Laura looked at Winter through watery eyes. The girl was lost. She had given up. Winter had to remain strong, just for her.

              “We’re going to climb out, and we’re going to run, and we’re going to get in another car and get to London, okay?”

              Laura nodded.

              “We’re going to go first, okay, Laura? We’re going to get in a car first.”