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This is my daily writing book. The idea being to write at least 500 words a day. Come one! |
| I've no idea what will appear here until it comes onto the page. I won't be editing as its just free writing, trying to get myself back into the habit of writing every day in the hope that I'll re-start my novel. |
| Just at that moment he heard the door open behind him. He looked around for something to grab, t cover himself, as if being naked was his biggest problem, there was the matter of being in the house of the biggest thug in the city with no weapons and no possible explanation and his wife laying naked on the bed. He turned and let out a huge sigh of relief. The dog, the bloody dog! He crouched down and it ran up to him, letting him pick it up. He carried it over to the bed then returned to the window, to open it, get some air in. ‘Hurry up Harry,’ said Felicia from the bed, I want you back in my bed, now. ‘Don’t worry, I’m coming.’ You’d better not ponse about, he could come in the next hour or so you know. Knowing him he’ll come early, he likes to keep me on my toes .’ ‘I on the other hand like to keep you on your back, or on all fours, in this instance. Show me that beautiful arse of yours again.’ He moved towards the bed as she stuck her naked arse towards him. It was a thing of beauty, no question about it, but he knew he was taking a ridiculous risk for what was after all just sex, pretty amazing sex, and the danger, which was high, extremely high, made it better, but he’d better get the fuck out of there soon, Not just yet though he thought as he climbed n to the bed and entered her with a slow gradual thrust. She shrieked slightly then pushed back towards him and he forgot about leaving. Half an hour later, he was lying flat on his back breathing hard, next to her. After a few minutes to get his breath back he jumped up. ‘You going?’ ‘I should.’ She nodded. ‘Before you do, a glass of champagne.’ ‘Ok, just one quickly though.’ She reached down the mini fridge by the bed and pulled out a half bottle and two frosted glasses. He didn’t notice the powder she shook into his glass just before filing it. He sat on the edge of the bed drinking it, fairly quickly, occasionally getting up and looking out of the window. ‘You’ll hear the car coming up the drive well before. All that poncy gravel, little did he know he was putting n an early warning system for me. ‘Do this often then do you?’ ‘I get bored you know. But none of then have been as wonderful as you.’ ‘Yeah yeah, I’m sure. Listen’ he said putting his glass down, ‘I really have to get going now you know.’ ‘ok, ok but you will come back won’t you. I’ve got your number so next time he’s away...’ He was thinking, maybe not, but he was also think that he wouldn’t be able to resist. She was so fucking horny it was frightening. He was almost tempted o get back into bed and give it to her again b ut common sense finally too over and he started to get dressed. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| They sat on the cliff top and watched the three warships as they moved slowly out of the harbour towards the horizon. She didn’t want to cry, it might make Claire cry too but she couldn’t help it, nor could Claire in the end. They both sat and cried as the ships became smaller and smaller. It was the right thing to do, it had to be done, she was proud of him and she knew there was no choice. Look what happened to the Smithson’s boy when he tried to run away, tried to say he didn’t agree with violence. They had been merciless. They’d shown him that sometimes violence was unavoidable. You don’t want violence far away protecting your people, then you’ll get it right here at home. Maybe even worse than you would out there. Either way, he was dead now and nothing could be worse than that, so he may as well of gone. On top of that was the shame, not just his shame, he didn’t need to worry about that anymore, but there was the reflected shame onto his entire family. The younger boy Hugh, only 14 but already labelled as a coward and singled out at school, beaten up regularly, toughening up the mayor had said when she spoke to him about it when he came to visit their school. Toughening him up, they need it in that family, as we know. No one could help them, they had to go through it alone and hope that the toughening up didn’t go one step too far. His father stayed in doors all the time now, he couldn’t bare to show his face. That proved his cowardice as far as the islanders were concerned but he couldn’t do a thing about it. She’d tried visiting them and speaking to them. Told his wife that if he got back to work, did his share, took a bit of a barracking, a bit of roughing up maybe, it would soon pass, they’d get fed up with it. She wasn’t sure of that to be honest but what else could they do. If they tried to hide, then it was just setting themselves up. People didn’t like it and they started to talk and plot and plan and before long, on a drunken Saturday night a crowds of about 30, came from the Kings head, where they’d been stoked up by that hot head Jack Higgins, and they told them to come out of the house or they’d die. They were gonna burn it down and this was the last warning. She didn’t say anything , nor her old man, didn’t want to risk looking like she was on their side. In the end they came out, with the boy and the little girl, only 6 she was, and they had to run away while their house was burnt to the ground. She saw them occasionally on the outskirts of the village. She’d seen them catch the old man once in the square. He’d grabbed a bag of potatoes and made a run for the forest, that’s where they were sleeping now, in this weather too. They caught him though and she’d watched helplessly as about 10 of them dragged him into the square and proceeded to beat him into unconsciousness while a crowd gathered round and cheered them on. She was ashamed of herself, ashamed of her island and she wanted to leave to run away and live somewhere where this didn’t happen, but she knew it wasn’t possible. So when the next draft was announced and his name was on it, they knew there was nothing they could do but hope he would be safe and would come back alive. Could be a year or more before he saw him again and she felt utterly alone as she stood on tip toes to see the ships disappear. He was gone and he may never ever be back. If she was lucky, he’d come home early with an injury. She felt bad but she prayed for an injury, nothing too bad but bad enough to make it clear he was no coward and he had to be sent home. Maybe he’d even get a bit of a hero’s welcome like that idiot Jerry Armitage who’d lost an arm, she didn’t want it to be that bad, but he seemed to do alright. Never bought a drink anymore, always had several waiting for him behind the bar. He’d always been a bit of a creep she though but now, with only one arm, he’d become sought after. She watched the young women, hanging round him, sitting on his knee while he told them about his experiences, how it was out there. Terrible, frightening but he didn’t flinch, he said, he knew it was his duty to protect the island and he only wished he hadn’t got injured so quickly so he could be out there now, doing his bit. Bloody liar, she thought, no one wanted to be out here if they could get away with it, and losing an arm was perfect. Better than a leg, with one arm you could do most things, and still get about and still get loads of sympathy and no chance of being accused of cowardice. It was perfect. They’d talked about it before he left, ways eh could do it to himself, but he was adamant he wouldn’t go that far, it was about pride he said. First off, he was bound to get found out, they were bound to be looking out for that sort of thing and they’re not daft, and secondly, he might get away with it, maybe non one would know and they’d send him home, but he’d know. He couldn’t live with himself he said if he’d done that, especially when the telegrams started coming, all his friends and neighbours dead, fighting for their liberty and him cowardly, wheedling his way out of it. No I have to take my chance, he said, its a risk but its one I have to take, for all our sakes. She wanted to bash him over the head when he spoke like that and she knew it was all bluff and bluster, she knew he was terrified and if someone told him he didn’t have to go he’d be the first to accept it. She didn’t say anything though, didn’t want to leave on an argument, it could be ages before she saw him again and she didn’t want bad blood all that time, she’d never forgive herself if, god forbid, he didn’t come back and the last words they’d had were cross words. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
He slammed forward as the brakes screeched and the car started to skew to the middle of the road. From the back of the car he felt himself moving alongside and then ahead of Jim and Hannah in the front. Hannah’s mouth was open but as time slowed down he couldn’t hear what she was saying, just an incoherent roar. He noticed her eyes pointing ahead and slowly he turned his heavy head in that direction, and he saw the approaching lamppost. It looked at first as if the whole car might just miss. He kept trying to calculate as the car skewed around and was moving in a trajectory that took it away from the lamppost centimetre by centimetre. Was there enough of a distance between the car and lamppost to enable the sideways skewing to pull them safely clear of it, then all they’d face was the grassy field beyond. He knew even the field would be a challenge. Hitting it sideways on they were certain to overturn, many times and he began to imagine how that would feel and how he could prepare or brace himself. He slowly leaned forward but too slowly to grab hold of the seat in front before the car reached the point of impact. He cold see his progress towards the seat and the belt he planned to grip as a dotted line alongside the slightly faster moving dotted line of the car, moving towards the other side of the road. Across that traverse the two dotted lines was a further red line which plotted, on the mental graph that appeared in the space around him in the car, the sideways movement away from the lamppost n relation to their travel forward straight at the lamppost. He couldn’t see the graph’s ending, it was developing with their lazy twisting motion but it looked as if it would be incredibly close. If he were a betting man, and let’s face he was, he would bet on anything. If they had this kind of thing in betting shops, a graph to show all the possibilities around a impending car crash, he’d spend a fortune and not win that much probably, despite his constant belief that this was his lucky time. If he was in that betting shop right now and able to bet he would predict two things, one they would just miss the lamppost, but sadly he wouldn’t get to grab the seat or seatbelt before the car hit the kerb and started to flip and roll into the field which meant he would be shaken around inside with no means of restraint, obviously he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt, in the back it still seemed wrong, so his chances of survival were low. He thought further in terms of odds, chances of death not that high, chances of injury and permanent disablement, pretty high, chance of pain and broken limbs and injuries that would be awful but eventually heal, virtually certain, that would be the one to put all the money on, the house, the car the savings, because the odds would be low but the chances of failure were virtually impossible. Still he remembered thinking that before and losing all of his Nan’s savings on a dead cert so maybe he’d be wrong this time and for once he’d benefit, he saw the lamppost just miss them and as they hit the kerb and went first up and then over for the first roll, his hand, which was approximately 2 mm away from the seatbelt was wrenched in another direction and he guessed the dead cert was going to hurt him again, worse than ever before. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
When I came home from work there was a huge purple elephant painted on the floor of the front room. The paint was still wet and as I stepped in I stepped into it and smeared it, spoiling what would otherwise have been a hideous twee irritating image. Now it was just a hideous image with a wet paint smears and a few purple footsteps alongside it. I took off my clothes and threw them onto the sofa. I then walked to the bathroom to fetch the mop and bucket. For the next two hours I washed the obscenity off the floor. Fortunately it was water based paint. As it was drying I wandered upstairs with my work clothes to change into something a little more comfortable, warily poking my head round the bedroom door. Only a minor incident there. The bed had been replace by a huge Victorian four poster with side and end curtains. It was so high off the floor that I had to jump up to get in and when I lay back wondering how to stop this shit, I noticed that the top of the bed had gouged deep marks into the ceiling. Trying to keep my composure I decided to run a bath. I would use the deluxe bath bombs, not mine but Hilary wasn’t ever going to need them now was she, so I could use as many as I wanted. I didn’t even feel guilty saying it. Why didn’t I make a bit more of the fact. Thinking that, leaving the bath running I went up to her room and rifled through her stuff. There was some jewellery, that I could sell, a wad of £20 notes in a draw, god knows what she kept those for, a huge bladed knife, which was more concerning, and worse still, in the shoebox at the bottom of her wardrobe, a silver shiny gleaming gun. God knows what type but it was cool, fucking cool. I couldn’t stop myself stroking it and pointing it at myself in the mirror and telling myself to freeze motherfucker! I guessed that if I fired it I might get a bit of a shock and thought I ought to find out if it was loaded or not, but then I was distracted by a noise downstairs. Breaking glass. I took the gun with me and slowly tiptoed down. The noise had come from the back of the house, sounded like the kitchen. As I got to he bottom of the stairs I heard someone grunting and a thump as they jumped down , presumably from the window, onto the kitchen floor. I raised the gun, pointing it ahead of me, walked into the kitchen and shouted, freeze mother... but I wasn’t able to finish my sentence. There were three men standing in the kitchen, all armed with what looked like machine guns, all wearing black military style uniforms and all with their guns pointed at me and looks of calm hatred on their faces. I dropped the gun and raised my hands, even though no one had asked me to do anything, it seemed the right thing to do. Who, who are you? I asked They just stared then the one in the middle who was taller than the others, moved towards me and as he did gestured with his gun towards the room behind me. I walked back in and he followed me. Where’s the fucking elephant! He shouted. What? You heard me Well I... Yes? I , I washed it... What? I washed it off. He walked towards me and I stepped backwards but not quickly enough, he whipped the butt of his gun round and smashed me across the face with it. It felt like he broke my nose and I shrieked with pain and fell to the floor holding it, blood gushing out. You fucking idiot. You couldn’t leave it, could you. ‘What? Why didn’t you just leave it. You had to interfere didn’t you. I don’t understand You understand well enough, I know your sort. Student are you, I bet you are aren’t you. I bet you’re a fucking student. You are aren’t you? I nodded my head feebly. Wanker! I knew it. Always have to be tidying up and making everything look normal don’t you, fucking students. Always need peace and quiet and order, no time for fun, certainly no time for purple elephants, Fucking students. I’m coming back, with these two, he gestured back towards the kitchen, in one hour, when I do, I want to see that lovely purple elephant back on the floor large as life, in fact larger than it was before, you got me. I nodded and spitting on the floor in front of me he left, using the front door, his two associates following behind him. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
There’s little left to care for and hardly any reason he can think of to stay alive but he still tries and fights for every day. Killing often as he’d never done before, never fought never lashed out now but yesterday he skewered an old woman with his lance and ate her over the fire, angry that she was old and tough and not as tasty as the little ones he’d caught the other day. He knows that people aren’t the same as animals but he has to think they are has to think of them like a pork chop or a side of beef or a lamb shank, he can’t think of the person, if he didn’t kill them they’d kill him he knew that and so he proceeded, each day, looking for prey and looking for predators. He used to work in an office, shuffling paper around or shuffling emails and document around and he guessed he would’ve been considered pretty soft and nothing, not a match for any of those hard handed mighty men who worked with their hands and drove vans and leered at women out loud and spat a lot in the street an showed their flesh as often as possible and seemed to be fearless, to him. He knew he felt a lot tougher when he was behind the wheel of his car, back then, he looked at them aggressively in his mirror and swore loudly, occasionally panicking when he saw that they noticed and seemed to be driving after him. He wanted to kill then, occasionally but not really, just a flash of murderous rage when one of them cut him up in their white vans. Most of the time though he kept his anger to himself, or hid it behind a series of jokes and secret underhand plotting movements. None of that now. He was quick to understand the new world and the new world order it had created. No one was in charge, the usual rules didn’t apply and although brawn could be useful, brains, cunning, that was much more useful. He knew that most people had resorted to eating each other now and there wasn’t even a second thought, but in the first few weeks and months he had the upper hand. People were too squeamish, too trusting and too slow to realise the extent of the devastation and desperation they now faced. No one was coming to rescue them, the government weren’t all safe in a bunker working out the best way to restore civilisation in a few weeks. There was no government no army, no police force, no jobs no power or water unless you really worked for it and very very little food. So he befriended a few people, invited them into his hideout and that first time, those 2 sweet innocent teenagers, one quite hunky, who lasted for a week or more, they had no idea. He killed the boy first, he might have been trouble, so he killed him in his sleep. When the girl woke up and realised she screamed, naturally but no one was coming, he just tied her up and made her watch while he ate her boyfriend, bit by bit. He noticed at the end there, after almost a week without eating and maybe longer before that, she didn’t seem quite so disgusted and he saw her looking at the chunks of meat n a different way. No more turning away, no more retching no more insults and desperate pleading. She just stared and occasionally licked her lips. He let her have a last piece and she lapped it up, greedy bitch. Then he cut her throat. Bled her upside down, reckoned it would taste better that way and it did, she was delicious. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
Waiting at the bottom of the slope he could he seem them coming down, twelve of them he counted. He could tell that Grimshaw was at the front, no mistaking the way he walked. The cocky swagger that almost shouted out that he thought he was tough, he wanted a fight to prove it and he felt like that most of the time. He didn’t want to test that out if he was on his own and he certainly had no intention of it with the other 11 thugs along for the ride. He’d expected some sort of reaction but nothing this severe. In some ways he though that Grimshaw wouldn’t react like this, with such force because it would show that he’d got to him and that he didn’t feel like he could handle it on his own. It must be serious for him to take any risk to his tough guy image. Although, if they caught him he was sure the tales of what they did t him would more than make up for it. That was the problem he faced now, how to avoid the possibly life threatening beating when he couldn’t get up, couldn’t move anything apart from his head and one side of his body. He knew it was the crone, the woman who’d given him the tea wasn’t who she seemed to be, he saw, just too late as he turned away, her disguise slipped a little and straw like hair and craggy features glimmered underneath the pretty mask she’d created. He’d ran then as far and as fat as he could, trying to get to somewhere safe, home wasn’t safe, Jake’s would be better but was too far, so he went for the woods, hoping to get to the camp before whatever she’d given him took effect. He almost made it too, looking away from the approaching Grimshaw he could see the edge of the woods 50 yards away from where he’d fallen. He stumbled at first as the effects of the potion started to numb his limbs but he’d managed to crawl a little further for a few minutes before he’d ended up where he was now, right in the middle of the path, easy prey, unable to even crawl in any direction and simply watching and waiting for them to fall on him. He’d tried a few times to summon Jake but the drug must be weakening his ability because all he got was a head ache and the occasional hazy image, no real connection no communication. He hoped Jake would feel something and guess eh was in trouble but even if he did, he wouldn’t know where he was. He tried to project his location with a final push but it just sent a blinding pain through his head and he almost blacked out, so decided to give up on that. He had a knife in his right hand, but although he could hold it he couldn’t move his arm or do anything with it other than show it to them when they arrived. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
She knew that it would feel weird going back but she felt, now that she’d agreed to it, thanks to the joys of facebook and wine, that she couldn’t really back out. SO having waited around outside the building for at least half an hour watching people coming and going, more going in the last few minutes as it got closer to five, she decided to go for it. At the reception George was still there and he recognised her. He seemed much friendlier than she remembered and cam round from behind his desk to greet her smiling. He embraced her and kissed her on the cheek with his rough old whiskery face before she had a chance to avoid or evade. Marina! You are looking beautiful as ever, come come, they are waiting for you. He led her to the lift and rode up with her to the 15th floor not saying anything but occasionally glancing at her and smiling. As the doors opened the office was in darkness and she wondered if she’d come to the right floor. She looked at George and he gestured for her to exit, nodding is head. She walked slowly out of the lift and as she did the lights came on and a shout went up from a group of around 20 people waiting there for her. Surprise She tried to hide the look of shock and disguise her jump in the air of terror by waving at them as if excited. It didn’t help that as she cam back down from her frightened leap she stumbled on her heels and her right heel snapped off. Caroline came running over apologising for frightening her We just wanted to surprise you, she said, let me have those shoes I’ll get George to whizz them down to the man at the station, he’ll have them fixed before you go. She took them and left in the lift, leaving her standing there facing the group. Hi, she said walking towards the. They smiled weakly as she realised, that most of them were either unrecognisable to her or only vaguely, like the sort of people you say hi to when you walk past m the corridor but have never said anything else to. Just then Harold, her old manager stepped forward from the back of the crowd. Aah marina, always making and entrance, at least you were on time today, bit of a rarity there aye? She laughed weakly shaking his proffered hand. So, we hear great things about you. University lecturer now of all things. Wonderful wonderful Thank you, but what’s the er the party for Well we wanted to celebrate your success – its good for us to you know, did you see this in the local paper He showed her the headline which she’d already seen showing her collecting her degree and mentioning in tiny letters that she’d worked for the firm before university. Wonderful you know, does wonders for our image. I should say. SO let me introduce you to a few of the new people. This is Maggie, a short long gray haired woman stepped forward and almost bowed before shaking her hand. She’s ding your job, obviously not as well as you did Well I’m sure.. No, no need to be modest is there Maggie? NO, not at all. I couldn’t expect to be as good as you.. To be honest I don’t think I was that into it when I was here Maggie, in fact if I remember rightly Harold, you told me so... Nonsense nonsense, that was just a blip. You were exemplary my dear absolutely exemplary. Can I introduce you to the man from the local paper, Mr. Harris, we wondered if you’d mind having a few photos with your old colleagues. Would that be ok? Well... It would be very god for us, in these difficult times you know. We don’t want to be making anyone redundant but with the recession and all. Of course of course. Were shall we go. If you don’t mind we thought over by your old desk They walked over to where she used to sit. It looked a lot nicer than when she was there. The furniture had been modernised and there was a brand new computer there. She sat in her seat as they asked and they gathered round to face the camera. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Virtual reality was only virtual as long as you knew it. Or maybe not, who knows, but it sounded good. She thought she’d try it out on Hank tonight, he loved all that philosophical bullshit, what’s the meaning of life, all that shit. Still he wasn’t just a nerd, thank god, he was pretty cool too sometimes. One of the new breed of cool-nerd that had somehow sprung up. Now cool dudes were a bit like nerds, not cool at all, just a bit of a cliché, like that dufus Gregor who stood around with an eyebrow raised and expected you to go t him. Well not you but girls and they did, of course but still eh was the new nerd and Hank was the new cool dude, with all the benefits of the nerds intelligence and egghead skills. Plus, another new nerdy thing which maybe just Hank, who cared he was her Hank anyway. He was hunky Hank. Hank was damn hunky. Maybe she’d just got a little confused and Hank has always been a hunky cool guy and , no, that made no sense. She knew he was egghead nerd first and hunky hank with a reserved laid back not expecting you to go to him but very welcoming when you did, kind of hunky Hank second. Still she wondered if this machine she’d tried out as part of the science project, the very one in fact that Hank had warned her against getting involved in now she came to think of it, she had hoped, now it seemed foolishly, to impress him and learn something but now she was wondering if this headset and virtual world which she’d been living in for the last 48 hours or so hadn’t made her just a little bit mental. I mean, thinking back to what she’d just been thinking, nerdy hunk Hank, versus so called cool dude who was now not cool, what the fuck was she on about. This was what Hank had warned her about, they didn’t have enough safeguards he’d said in his clever caring nerdy way, don’t trust what they say or what they promise you. The fact is they will ask you to sign a disclaimer (they had) and they don’t know what the effect is of some of there gizmos. Its dangerous babe, he’d said, slightly uncool that ‘babe’ but she’d let him off. So now, looking back, actually literally looking back at her bizarre thoughts which she now seemed able to do in this virtual world; she could se them up on a screen and they were moving around then coming towards her and swirling around her head. She could feel the texture of them as they brushed past, some were sandy and some were a little bit silky, a few were warm and someone were sharp and cold, ice cold. She decided it was time to get the fuck out of there after cuddling a few of her thoughts in the corner of the room for an hour or so. She was particularly attracted to one of the thoughts she’d had about Hank being hunky and clever, couldn’t let go of that one easily. In the end she put it down and watched i slowly plod away into the distance, occasionally looking back and giving her a cute little wave. She almost ran after it and grabbed hold of it but if you love someone, or something or some little cute thought, then you had to set them free, didn’t you? So, how to get out. If she remembered rightly the scary untrustworthy science guy said all she needed to do was go to the screen and wave at them and they would switch it off immediately but she tried that hours ago, at least she think she did or maybe she’d thought about what he said and wasn’t sure if she remembered it right. Whoa, what was that. Looking at that thought she noticed it was like a small labyrinth and she broke off thoughts of leaving to spend a few minutes or hours or as long as she felt, exploring that and working out what led to where. This was a cool cool place. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Fat and hairy wasn’t necessarily the best look but he would stick with it. What choice did he have after ll, it was either that or off he would have to go to somewhere obscure and impossible to search. Maybe faraway 6, that cunningly named planet or gafalgus or even, if the Federal chief had his way, hideousity. So, he had to be George Timotheous, a fat hairy Greek who loved to eat pastries and wasn’t a threat to the government and in fact only threatened himself with his continual overeating and gluttony. Obviously there would be some challenges, considering he hated pastries and had the appetite of a bird. They hadn’t fixed that yet. They may be able to give you the appearance of someone, the exact appearance, even down to the genitals apparently, a fact he’d rather no have known, although George seemed to be quite successful in that area, maybe allowing fro his girth. Without such a huge schlong he’d probably have trouble finding it or certainly stickling it anything So he’d decided, well not true exactly, he’d been advised by this handler, that over the next few months he was on a strictly increasing and enlarging diet plan. He couldn’t go running, which actually he was pleased about, he tried to yesterday and the girth was incredibly restrictive he’d found. So pastries would be a regular feature. Hey knew he hated them but assured him that after a few months he’d forget all about that and start to crave them and the pies and the sweets and the chocolate. How did these people do it he wondered, the chocolate, every day, two bars maybe even three and a cup of hot chocolate in the evening. He had to admire George. He was a pretty committed man. It took a lot of effort to maintain this kind of size and after a week or so he started to quite like the heft and mass of his new body. The way it took up more pace and was more noticeable. OK, not always in a positive way but he didn’t care about the glances s of distain what he liked was that he rarely went unnoticed, his shadow was a lot larger and he certainly filled those public transport seats. You had to have a certain way about you if you had this kind of girth. People looked, they tutted they tried not to sit next to you because they wanted all of their seat. At work, they didn’t seem to take much notice of him. They noticed him, that wad true, but, at least in the first few days until his intellect started to show through and his sense of humour won them over, they just kind of tolerated him. He knew that George wasn’t exactly a star, but he also knew that he was manager and that he slowly risen up the career ladder, all with this handicap. So he admired him and liked him after a while. What impressed him the most was the fact that he lived n the 5th floor. |
| The enormous hands seemed right, but when he looked down it felt completely wrong, his feet were almost invisible, so small, surprising in a way that he hadn’t toppled over with such a huge head an such gigantic fat wide hands. Then the tail twitched behind him and he realised, after the initial shock, that this was why. Looking round he saw it was at least twice as long as his body and that he could manipulate it surprisingly well, for someone who had only just taken possession of this weird and wonderful body. The doctor has warned him that he could end up anywhere, literally, anywhere in the universe and although they hadn’t come across many extreme variations of the basic humanoid form they were used to, there were some notable differences. He’d mentioned a few of the possibilities, 2 headed, mixed gender, cocks and tits seemed scary at the same time but actually secretly he’d fancied having a go, then there was the more obvious, large and small features, such as his current head the size of small car and hands as a big as a card table. Eyes that protruded several inches from the head and ears like wings. Apart from that he didn’t know what to expect and he seemed to be adapting surprisingly quickly to his new body. The hands, when he waved them through the air, produced amazing wind drag and he wondered if he could glide or even fly. The head was just big and he hadn’t really worked out what that would belike, but did briefly wonder if it meant he’s have a huge brain and a huge intelligence to go with it. As for the tail, apart from stooping him falling over, with his tiny child-like feet, he quickly realised that it had many advantages. He could stretch out and reach and grab for things. He could use to pull his entire body weight up into a tree as he passed, not an inconsiderable feat considering the size and weight of his giant head. He spent a few hours trialling it out this new body of his. He looked down his trousers as soon as he felt no one was around and discovered a fairly ordinary set of male genitals. Bigger than he’d been used to but not freakishly so. He took his shoes and sock off to get a better look at his feet and found that they were webbed and that he had 7 toes, all the same length roughly, not brilliant for walking but would probably be quite good for swimming. He had 3 belly buttons and his arse seemed to be just one huge cheek with a hole roughly in the middle. Quire weird for sitting down on he found, soft but subject to a rolling factor which he hadn’t quite worked out how to cope with yet. He was a firm believer in evolution so he knew there’d be a good reason for this one-cheeked round arse, but hadn’t discovered it as yet. His arms were strange, very strange. There seemed to be 6 joints in each one and they had a tremendous flexibility which when he climbed the tree he’d pulled himself into, he found was really useful for climbing and gripping and he was able to run-around and jump from tree to tree using his articulated arms and super tail. Jumping through the trees like some fat headed ape, he came across a large stretch of water and knew he had to give it a go. He raced across to the tree nearest to the waters edge and without even thinking about whether he could swim or whether there was going to be anything in the water that he should be worried about, he dive in. Then he realised he could not only swim really well, the webbed feet really coming into their own now, but he could breathe under water. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| A weird day but not that weird compared to Josh. For me seeing your Mum cry and your dad wearing a dress and singing in a really high pitched voice was pretty weird but when I told him about it I felt bit of a wuss, as if I was just saying – guess what my Dad is a really good fighter – or something equally naff. Josh just shrugged his shoulders and said something like, headless, raised his eyebrows and walked off, knowing I’d follow him hoping for another tale of the weird and wonderful life of him and his family. The headless one I’d already heard loads of times but he knew how impressed I was by it. It became a bit of a shorthand for him, so he didn’t really need to say anymore too make me know and acknowledge that , yes, he had the most bizarre and fucked up and awesome life of any of us and no matter what I came up with, even if my dad had been naked and taking a dump in the middle of Sainsbury’s frozen foods aisle, nothing could top his wealth of wonderful experiences. I guess a social worker or someone might not quite see it in the same way, he was always saying I needed to keep it to myself because he didn’t want to go into care or be taken away from his parents however freakish they were, or their relatives and friends and associated acquaintances and friends and people they met from time to time who stayed over night and then seemed to move in. Maybe that was part of the secret of his amazing success in the weirdness department, the house. It was huge rambling giant of a horror story house, with 3 or 4 floors, loads of those pointy wooden gables and it was about as wide as 4 normal houses. There were always at least 20 people living there and whenever you visited the smells sounds and things that you saw were enough to fill a whole episode of x files or weird tales of the unexpected or the twilight zone or other such wondrous programmes. Today though, he needed me, me were going to the school to try out for the interview panel. The interview panel was some new initiative by the school to show how they cared for and considered the views of the pupils and were always striving to make sure that the school met the needs of those they served, or some such waffle. What it meant was they were inviting applications from pupils to sit in on and participate in the interviews of future teachers. This was too golden an opportunity to miss so Josh had decided he must must mist get on the panel. He knew though that if he just turned up and was his normal weird self, he’d have absolutely no chance whatsoever. He was new to the school so they didn’t know him that well as yet, but he only had to act the way he normally did, like putting his feet up on the desk or farting whoever was there, or picking his nose and flicking it, or standing up in the idle of class and starting to sing and trying to get the others to join in or wearing some of his parents weird and wonderful clothes from all over the world, like the Fijian lava lava, which to me looked like a denim wraparound skirt but to Josh’s Dad was a genuine cultural garment of the Fijian men, Josh was utterly clueless in all this normal stuff. So today the tables were turned. I was the one to be looked up to. I, the supernormal nerdish geekish respectable egghead, I knew exactly what the school would be looking for having been trained by my super-nerd head teacher father from the day I was born and had ample opportunity for daily coaching and regular feedback form the same head teacher. I was the super-coach to his nervous newbieness and he was shitting himself and looking quite uncomfortable at the turn in fortunes. To be honest though he hadn’t really taken that much advantage as of his status as captain of the weirdness department and the way I looked up to him so much, in fact I sometimes wondered if he was planning something some massive prank to really cash in on this, but after a few days of knowing him and his mentalist family, I realised he wasn’t quite in that league, he didn’t really understand all that sort of tit-for-tat-prey-on-the-weak-especially-the-geek kind of behaviour. He’s spent do much time with his family an their bizarre habits and it was only this year, when the dreaded social workers called round and succeeded after 6 or 7 visits in actually meeting him and his parents, that he had to come to school, had to demonstrated he was normal enough not t be taken away into care SO it was extra important this one.. Not only did he love the idea of interviewing the potential teachers and devising all sorts of odd and amusing questions to foist on them but he though it would do him good, make the social workers think he was getting all normaled up, if he did something that was so-called respectable. So we had a practice interview every day for the last week. I played Mrs Fishborne, the deputy head and he played Josh the weirdo trying to be normal. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
‘Shall we get some Champagne?’ said Harriet. ‘Bit wasted on them I reckon,’ said Fergus. ‘You sure,’ said Gus. ‘I swear I remember them loving it. Remember their 40th anniversary...’ ‘In Crete?’ said Fergus. ‘Oh yeah. Well, it’s up to you. You don’t need to.’ ‘They’ve been so lovely though,’ said Harry. ‘Letting us stay, cooking all that nice food. I just want to let them know how much we appreciate...’ ‘If you’re sure, that would be really nice.’ They’re in Marks & Spencer’s in Monmouth. It’s the nearest big town to where their staying, xxx a little village where Fergus’s Mum & Dad moved to a year or so ago – their retirement cottage. Even though they’d both been retired for 10 years or more. Fergus wandered off to look for something for dessert while the others headed for the alcohol section. Fergus heard a sharp bang from outside then a woman’s voice ‘Oh my God! Followed by more screams and gasps. ‘Did you see that!’ Another few sharp banging noises in quick succession. Fergus ran to the front of the shop. People in the shop were either rushing in the same direction or had turned their heads that way. At the doorway, the security guard went into the street followed by a few of the shoppers. ‘What’s happening,’ Fergus asked an old man standing next to him. ‘Sounds like a gunshot, that’s what I reckon. That was a machine gun, that last time.’ ‘What!’ Gus and Harry arrived behind him. ‘What is it!’ said Harry. ‘Machine gun,’ said the old man. ‘No, no it’s probably just...’ They hear it again much longer this time a sustained burst. Fergus walked out into the street followed by Gus and Harriet and a few other shoppers. About 50 metres away down the high street they saw people scattering, running in all directions, some towards them. There are a few people on the floor but when the crowd thins out they can see a group of men in white uniforms encircling a group of policemen, pointing guns at them. Fergus walked slowly towards them to get a better look. From the other side of the circle he watched as three more men in white approached holding their guns on four more policemen, these in riot gear. They are shoved into the centre of the circle with the others. ‘Phone the police,’ he said to Harry. ‘I haven’t got my phone. Quickly!’ ‘No signal’ she said after a few seconds. She turned round to the crowd of onlookers. ‘Please, can someone ring the police, my phones not working...’ ‘Nor mine,’ says a man with his phone already in his hand. One by one the others reported that they have no signal. ‘Look,’ say one of the onlookers, ‘they’re bringing more in. What are they doing?’ ‘Oh my God!’ said Harry. ‘It’s probably a practical joke or street theatre or something,’ said Gus There were now about 20 uniformed police, most in riot gear, and a couple of security guards in the circle, surrounded by the armed men. One of the armed men gestured with his gun and a few of the others started to push the policemen towards one side of the street, lining them up against a shop window. One of them tried to grab the gun of one of the troopers. He was immediately set on by four of them. They clubbed him to the ground with the butts of their guns, then as he lay there they kicked him over and over again until he didn’t move anymore. ‘Jesus!’ said Fergus. Harry and Gus were holding on to each other next him. ‘They’re going to shoot them,’ said Harry. ‘No...’ said Gus. ‘Look!’ said Fergus. Leaving the lifeless body of the policeman on the pavement the other troopers returned to face the lined up policemen fanning out in front of them. They raised their guns and began to fire, long bursts. Blood spattered the windows of the shop before they shattered and all of the policemen fell to the ground. The shooting continued as they lay there, the troopers moving in close spraying all the bodies with round after round. People in the street were screaming and running away from the danger. Fergus, Gus and Harriet ran back into the supermarket. Fergus turned as they reached the store and saw the troopers marching off in the other direction to the end of the high street. He could just make out a line of jeeps waiting there. As he watched they marched to the jeeps, then drove away. ‘What the hell...’ said Fergus. ‘We have to go, now!’ said Gus ‘What if they’re out there, on the road,’ said Fergus. ‘We have to go, said Harry, back to your parents.’ They ran back to the car park and drove as fast as they could back to Fergus’s parents house 5 miles or so away. They turned on the radio. At first they couldn’t get any stations, but finally they managed to get a news programme. ‘...reports of armed men, dressed in white in several towns and cities, mainly in the north of the country. I’m going to speak now to one of our reporters. Jeremy Graham is in Manchester. Jeremy what can you tell us. ‘Alan, I can’t believe what I’ve just seen. A few minutes ago a police car came screeching down xxx street with its siren on, followed by two military jeeps. ‘What happened Jeremy?’ ‘They forced it off the road, and then...I can’t believe this. They dragged them out of the car...’ ‘Who dragged them Jeremy...’ ‘These bloody troopers, in white uniforms Alan...’ ‘OK Jeremy, please, go on...’ ‘They dragged them out at gun point. There was a young man, a young policeman, who was driving and a woman WPC. They dragged them out... I’m sorry. It was awful. They dragged them out, stood them against the car and just shot them, repeatedly. There was blood everywhere, they just carried on shooting, even when they were clearly dead, lifeless on the floor. Then they just got back in their jeeps and drove off.’ ‘Ladies and Gentlemen this one of many such stories that we’ve been hearing from all over the country. So far we’ve not been able to get any comments from the authorities. We’re going over now to another of our sister stations in Liverpool. Hello Angus...’ ‘Put it back on,’ said Fergus. Gus fiddled with the tuning button ‘It’s gone off air...’ ‘Try another one then!’ ‘I’m trying I’m trying, there’s nothing else...’ ‘What the fuck is happening!’ said Harriet. ‘Look!’ said Gus. ‘Oh Jesus, this is fucked up,’ said Fergus. Up ahead in the road was a police BMW, turned over and smoking. In the road were two bodies of policemen, clearly dead, blood running across the road. Gus slowed down as they go closer. ‘Don’t slow down!’ said Fergus. ‘We have to...’ ‘No we don’t, ’ said Harriet, ‘just keep going, fast Gus for Christ’s sake. ‘We have to get Mum & dad,’ said Fergus. On the journey home they saw three more police vehicles and dead bodies by all of them. They took the turn off the main road towards the village and as they did they saw three of the jeeps coming towards them. ‘Oh fuck, what shall I do?’ said Gus. ‘It too late... just pull over to the side,’ said Fergus. ‘Gus!’ said Harry. They pulled over as far as possible, right up against the roadside hedge. The jeeps sped past seeming not to notice them. They drove as fast they could to Fergus’ parents house. As they turned the corner into their street they saw people out on the road. A woman was standing in the middle of the street pulling t her hair and screaming. They pulled up and jumped out of the car. Fergus ran towards the house. As he did the neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Harris came out of their house. ‘Fergus, Oh my God, I’m sorry...’ ‘Where’s my Mum and Dad?’ ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Mr. Harris. Fergus ran into the house. The door was unlocked and hanging off it’s hinges. As he stepped into the hallway he saw his Mum’s legs on the floor in the front room. Taking another step he could see that his Dad’s legs next to her. Two more steps and he entered the room, he could see their torsos, they were both lying on their backs. One final step and he was able to see everything. Their severed heads had been placed next to their bodies. He was unable to turn his head away in time and saw their dead eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. He turned, running out into the street vomiting and then screaming as Gus and Harry arrived. ‘Fergus, what’s happened,’ said Harriet putting her arm round him as he crouched on the floor retching. He didn’t’ respond. Gus ran past him into the house. Harriet heard him shouting behind her. ‘What is it Gus? Gus staggered out of the house with his hand over his mouth shaking his head. ‘Fucking hell Fergus, Jesus fucking Christ...’ Harriet came towards him. ‘Tell me what’s happened,’ she grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look directly at her. ‘They... they’re dead. They’ve killed them.’ ‘Oh my God,’ said Harry, taking a step towards the house. Gus grabbed her arm. ‘NO, don’t Harry..’ ‘They cut their fucking heads off!’ said Fergus turning round to look at them. ‘Cut them off and placed them by their dead bodies.’ ‘What! Oh my God. Gus?’ Gus nodded. Mr Harris came over from next door. ‘I’m so sorry, we couldn’t stop them...’ ‘Who are they?’ said Harry. ‘Why here, why did they choose this house...’ ‘It’s not just here, said Mr. Harris. They picked random houses; they’ve killed people up and down the street. ‘What did they say, why are they doing this?’ said Gus. ‘They didn’t say anything, didn’t speak at all,’ said Mr. Harris. For the next few hours they stayed out in the street talking to people, hearing similarly horrific stories about killings and beheadings. No on knew what was happening, who they were or where they came from. They all agreed that none of them had spoken at any point. Some of the neighbours reported that they had been able to find some radio stations intermittently but they didn’t stay on for long. They gathered that the trouble, the killings had started in the North, there was talk of the Army being involved or the Army being neutralised or wiped out. Some said it was a military coup or an invasion by Muslims or Eastern Europeans. No one knew what was really happening. There had been no official statement from the government that anyone had seen. One old woman from the end of the street said that she’d heard that the government had all been killed, all at once, overnight. Killed in their beds they were. But no one took much notice. ‘Fergus mate, do you want us to help you bury your Mum & dad,’ said Gus. ‘Bury them! What are you talking about bury them, we can’t just bury them. Where will we bury them for Christ’s sake?’ ‘Fergus, we have to,’ said Harry. ‘Look, no one is going to come and take them to a funeral home or anything like that...’ ‘Where the fuck are we going to bury them then?’ said Fergus. ‘I, I don’t know...’ ‘What do you think we should just bury them in the garden, maybe in the fucking flower bed ...’ ‘Fergus,’ said Gus. ‘Come on mate...’ ‘Come on! Fucking come on! My parents are lying in there with their fucking heads chopped off and you tell me to come on. You idiot...’ ‘Fergus, please,’ said Harry. ‘We’re trying to help...’ ‘Just leave me alone then, please just go somewhere, please just go...’ They told him they’d be next door with the Harris’s, but he didn’t respond. He went into his parents house and slammed the door behind him ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
Harriet knew that they had to reverse down the ramp, but none of them knew how to get the boat off the ramp. With the bodged up chain linking them to the trailer it was incredibly hard to get the boat to go straight down the ramp and it took them about half an hour before thy managed it. Being a large boat they had to drive it down quite a way into the water to avoid damaging it when they offloaded. Gus and Fergus got out of the truck and untangled the chains. Then Fergus climbed up on to the trailer to try and work out how to unload the boat. There were two handles and some kind of winch and with a bit of fiddling about he worked out that one handle tipped the trailer down towards the water and then they had to wind the other handle to slowly slide the boat down into the water. ‘That’s it mate, slowly does it,’ said Gus directing form the bottom. Harriet was standing by the road keep an eye out, also watching them form time to time. ‘I can hear something coming!’ she said. ‘What is it?’ said Fergus looking over. ‘Don’t let go of the handle!’ said Gus. Fergus realised too late, the handle span to fast for him to grab as the boat gained momentum it careered down into the water with a huge splash. ‘Shit!’ said Fergus. ‘Oi!’ said Gus. ‘Go go,’ said Harriet, it’s a truck or something, maybe more than one.’ She ran down towards them. That’s when they realised that the boat was drifting out away form the ramp, out of reach. ‘We’ll have to swim for it, quickly,’ said Gus. They all ran into the water and dived in with all their clothes on. Fergus made it to the boat first and managed to grab hold of some rope on the side and slowly pull himself up. Gus arrived next but waited for Harriet who was swimming much more slowly. ‘Come on!’ said Fergus looking up at the road. ‘I can here them clearly now, there’s definitely more than one. Quick Harry.’ She spluttered and splashed in a kind of doggy paddle, making slow progress. ‘Help me Gus, the, clothes are too heavy,’ she said. Gus swam to her and tried to grab her under the arms but she was panicking now and threw her arms round his neck which made it impossible for him to swim. They both went under briefly. As Fergus watched Gus came up first then Harriet, coughing and trying to grab him. He pushed her away shouting at her. ‘Don’t grab for fuck’s sake Harry, You’ll drown us.’ Finally he managed to persuade her to lie back as he grabbed her under the arms and swam towards the boat. ‘Fuck!’ said Fergus. There are three trucks, look.’ He pointed as three trucks full of troopers came round the corner and made straight for the ramp moving in their familiar slightly jerky manner. Gus and Harriet had reached the boat and he bent down to pull Harriet and then Gus on board. Harriet ran straight to the cabin to start the engines. ‘ Wait!’ said Gus. ‘Don’t we need to lower them into the water? ‘Shit, quickly,’ said Harriet. It took them a couple of minutes to work it out. Just as they finished they heard shots form the shore. They were only a few metres away. ‘Now Harry, start the fucking thing now!’ said Fergus. It started first time and she immediately sped away form the shore towards the mouth of the small harbour. There were at least 10 of them now standing by the ramp shooting at them. Fergus and Gus crouched down and crawled towards the cabin. As they made their way there, the boat was getting hit more and more. Although they were crouched low it was no protection form the bullets that came through the body of the boat. ‘Faster Harry,’ said Gus. There was no response, either form Harry or the engines. Gus looked at Fergus and they both stood and ran to the cabin. ‘Harry?’ said Gus She was slumped on the floor bleeding, but she looked round when they came in and pointed to the fornt of the boat. Fergus looked up and he could see that they were heading straight for the harbour wall. The throttles were back but they’d veered a long way off form the opening. He ran for the wheel as Gus stooped down to help Harriet. ‘Please, please be OK, Harry. Are you OK?’ ‘She nodded and tried to sit up but, winced in pain and stayed slumped against the side of the boat. By now there were fewer sounds of the bullets hitting the boat. Fergus was at the wheel and was managing to steer towards the harbour opening. Within two minutes they were out and heading for the open sea. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| All the way along the coat it was the same story, either no boats at all or nothing worthwhile. When they reached Folkestone it was the same, the docks were completely deserted. All they could find was a small dinghy, with a tiny little out board motor and a set of oars. ‘We’ll never get anywhere in that,’ said Harriet. ‘What else can we do?’ said Gus. ‘Maybe we’re looking in the wrong places.’ said Fergus. ‘Look, this all happened so quickly right. It was only three weeks ago when we heard about Manchester, most people didn’t believe it or didn’t do anything, that’s why there were so many bodies. There wasn’t time. Boats that were in Marinas and waiting at the docks, they would be easy to get out quickly, that’s why they’ve gone, but what about one’s in storage?’ ‘What’ do you mean?’ said Gus. ‘Yeah, of course,’ said Harriet. ‘People keep them on their driveways and places like that but we need something big. There’s big old storage sheds, must be. Dad used one near Southend in the winter. There’s got to be one round here. They found some near the coast at first, with river or canal access to the sea, but they were empty. Then they started looking further afield. Harriet seemed to think that some places were built further away and that they stored the boats in the winter then spring time they were towed down on trailers. It took them until late at night to find one. A huge place, in an industrial estate, 5 or 6 miles form the coast at Folkestone. There a lot of smallish boats but on one side 5 or 6 huge gleaming boats. ‘Oh my God! ‘ said Fergus. ‘These are massive. Which one shall we take?’ Each of the boats was mounted on a huge trailer. They opted for one with a mast and sail as well as two huge outboard motors ‘There’s no way the jeep will be able to pull that,’ said Gus. ‘We need something much bigger.’ ‘Look,’ said Harriet, ‘I’m knackered. Why don’t we find somewhere to sleep, then in the morning, look for something?’ ‘We can’t hang around,’ said Fergus. ‘Look Harry, we don’t know how close they’re getting. We have to move now!’ ‘We’ve got a lot to do though,’ said Gus. ‘We need fuel for the boat, a big truck, plus fuel for that.’ ‘Look I haven’t slept for 2 days!’ said Harriet. ‘I couldn’t. I just need to rest, please!’ Fergus and Gus told her to wait in the shed, on the boat, while they went out to look for a bigger truck to pull the boat down to the harbour. She found a bed below deck and was asleep before they pulled out. ‘There were a few trucks by the docks,’ said Fergus. ‘I’m not sure how safe it is down there though. There’s bound to be cameras and shit’ ‘It’s either that or the motorway and we know they’re no safe,’ said Gus. They agreed to go towards the docks but to try not to go right by them unless they had to. The first one they came across was in a petrol station, but it had no keys and no fuel. Fergus had a brainwave to check out the local Little Chef and there they found 5 or 6 trucks in the car park. The third one they tried had half a tank of fuel and the keys in the ignition. It took them almost and hour to work out how to unhitch the trailer. Once they had, they drove straight back to the boat shed. Gus was driving. ‘Jesus! This is a powerful little bastard,’ he said speeding round a corner, nearly crashing into a bust stop. ‘Without the trailer you can really get some speed up.’ ‘Just be careful mate,’ said Fergus. Back at the shed they tried to figure out how to attach the boat trailer to the truck. In the end they found a large chain which they wrapped and locked around the truck and the trailer. ‘What do you think Harry?’ said Gus. Harriet woke up as soon as they arrived back and climbed down form the boat. ‘It’s gonna swing around isn’t it?’ ‘Yeah,’ said Fergus, but if we go really slowly, it should be ok.’ They found plenty of fuel there for the boat which they loaded into the back of the truck and set off immediately. They wanted to find somewhere with a large enough launch ramp, away form the main harbour, where the cameras may be a problem. It didn’t take them long. They found one a few miles along form the harbour towards Dover. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
At the gate to Harriet’s parents’ house he paused. The house didn’t look occupied but then it wouldn’t even if they were there. They weren’t that stupid. He knew they would be jumpy so he didn’t want to risk one of them jumping out and stabbing him or whacking him over the head with a baseball bat. The car wasn’t in sight but again, it wouldn’t be. He decided to check the garage, but it was locked and the window was blocked – could be them could be nothing. He walked round to the fornt of the house and tried the door. It was open. He slowly pushed it in and walked into the hallway, immediately covering his nose as the awful smell hit his nostrils. Decay, could be food or something much worse. He went to the kitchen first, trying not to make a sound, it smelled awful but there was definitely another smell coming form upstairs. He tiptoed up there, trying not to gag and found the source. Harriet’s Mum & Dad with their severed heads posed next to the prostrate bodies on the bedroom floor. Flies were swarming and he had to run down stairs and out the fornt of the house to vomit. He left immediately heading for Gus’ parents house, which was in the same road as his family home used to be before his parents had moved to Wales. There were no vehicles in sight, but that didn’t mean much. He decided to be quick and just walked quietly straight up to the fornt door, Just before he reached it Gus came out, turning his head sharply in his direction and reaching for his pocket. ‘Jesus Christ! Fergus!’ ‘Gus, where’s Harriet?’ As he said that Harriet came out too holding a huge carving knife. ‘Oh my God Fergus,’ she dropped the knife and ran to him wrapping her arms around him. Gus joined her. ‘I went to your house first Harry, I’m sorry.’ ‘Thanks,’ she said looking down at the ground ‘What about...’ he pointed towards the house. Gus shook his head. ‘Fucking bastards!’ Fucking bastards!’ said Fergus. ‘Have you seen anything, anyone round here?’ They hadn’t. Fergus explained what had happened to him and how he might have been spotted. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know, I haven’t seen anyone, but it’s the cameras, they definitely must have seen me.’ ‘I’m so glad your here Fergus, We thought we’d never see you ...’ said Harriet. ‘It’s my fault,’ said Fergus, ‘I should have come with you; I don’t know I was being stubborn, or some bullshit.’ ‘Doesn’t matter mate, doesn’t matter,’ said Gus rubbing his head and then grabbing him in a mock head lock. ‘So glad you’re here you know.’ ‘We need to get the fuck out of here don’t we, like now?’ said Fergus. ‘Yeah,’ said Gus and Harriet nodded. They decided to take the jeep, just because it felt safer, they could carry more stuff and it could go off road if they needed to. They took the radio and the code so they knew which channel to listen to. Gus said that the other day they’d managed to get in touch with John for a couple of minutes, not good news though. He had managed to get away with a couple of others but everyone else was dead, gassed in the basement. It was only because they’d been out looking for supplies that they’d survived. He told them he’d heard a broadcast form Germany, only very faint but it sounded as if they were saying something about a safe haven near Berlin, and that’s where they were trying to get to, but since then they hadn’t been able to reach him. By now it was pretty obvious that nowhere in the country was safe, but going North was out of the question, most of the troopers were there it seemed, even though they’d soon be everywhere, they felt like they had a chance if they headed south, for the coast, near Brighton maybe and moved up the coast towards Hastings, Folkestone and Dover until they found a decent boat. ‘What sort of boat do we need?’ said Fergus. Gus shook his head. They both looked a Harriet. ‘I don’t know!’ she said. ‘Come on Harry, your old man had a big old boat,’ said Fergus. ‘I know, but I have no idea.’ ‘You’ve got more idea than us,’ said Gus. ‘Ok, I guess, something biggish that can go across the channel. We can’t sail, I’ve no idea about that, but if we can find something with a decent engine.’ ‘Look, I agree sailing is to be avoided at all costs,’ said Fergus ‘but, we need to be prepared. There might not be any fuel or not much fuel os lets get a sail boat with an engine, yeah?’ So that’s what they looked for. They started at Brighton Marina, but there was nothing worthwhile there. ‘Looks like a lot people had the same idea,’ said Gus. ‘Probably a lot sooner. I bet these left weeks ago, soon as the power went off,’ said Fergus. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| That night they threw them a party, knowing they were leaving the next day and it was really hard to go in the morning, not just because of the hangovers. They had their Jeep and fuel, John had organised that too, filling up from all the local petrol stations, hoarding the supply nearby in big oil drums. He gave then a CB radio to take with them, told them to keep in touch. There was a series of complicated sequences to follow so they’d know which channel to use, a different one each day, so no one could listen in, well not regularly. When they saw and heard what was happening in Croydon, they tried all night and the next day to reach him, but couldn’t Fergus felt so alone now. Thinking about Croydon and the others and worrying what had happened to Gus and Harriet. They’d taken the Jeep but left him with the Harley, bit flash but he’d always wanted one so when he saw it, he took it. Had a trailer and panniers and everything so he could take supplies with him. It took him hardly any time to decide to g after them. What else would he do. Rode off to Cornwall on his own? He might have to do that but he had to check on them first. They only had one radio so he couldn’t contact them that way. He decided to head for Orpington, where they all used to live, where they’d gone now. He knew he had to avoid the motorways, they were likely to be boobytrapped or monitored, so he stuck to the smallest back roads. Near Westerham, he slowed down about 100 metres from the M25 overpass. According to John, who’d been in contact with Manchester and Liverpool on his radio, some of the first places to fall, they had control of the traffic cameras and sometimes had listening equipment on the major motorways. The M25 was bound to be included in this. He stopped about 50 metres from the bridge, hid his motor bike in some nearby bushes and slowly walked towards the overpass, carrying only his rucksack with essentials, such as his knife and matches and some food. He didn’t want to walk under the motorway, so he crept up the embankment to check. If there was anyone there, he’d be exposed when he went underneath. At the top of the rise there was a row of bushes before the hard shoulder of the motorway. He took off his rucksack and crept towards them on his belly. He couldn’t see anyone or any of their vehicles. Across both lanes though, he noticed a gantry with cameras, mounted all along it. Just as he saw them, three moved to pin right at him. He jumped up and ran down the bank grabbing his bag on the way, tripping half way down and rolling into the road below twisting his ankle slightly. He got up quickly, ran to the motorbike and sped off under the motorway taking the first left, away from his destination. After riding for 5 minutes he came across a small row of country house. He hid the bike in the garage of one, then as quietly as possible crept into the cottage, ignoring the putrid smells, deliberately not checking any of the rooms as he moved straight up to the loft. He walked carefully across the rafters of the loft, which had no floorboards, making his way t the front of the house. He managed to find a sheet of chipboard almost as long as his body, which he lay on whilst he made a small hole in the eaves at the front of the house so he could look out and watch the road. He watched for 3 or four hours until it was dark, and saw or heard nothing at all. He hadn’t moved in that whole time and was now incredibly stiff. He stood up slowly stretching and feeling the cramp in hi muscles. Slowly sitting down again he decided to eat something. He had a few biscuits and some dried fruit in his bag and some strips of dried meat that John had kindly donated. He chewed a bit, the swallowed some of the fruit. He checked his water bottle, which was about half full. He had to make a decision now, go on to Orpington as planned or get the hell out of there before it was too late. Same again he thought, I’d rather risk it than be on my own. He decided to go now, while it was dark, but thought he’d have to leave the bike behind and go on foot. He went out the back door, listening carefully for any sounds and constantly looking over his shoulder. He still had his map and was able to use it to make his away across fields and through woods, in the direction of Orpington. He knew he had about 10 miles to go and hoped to do it before light. It was a slow journey, he had to stop before every road he crossed and listen and look carefully for any signs of people or anything else. He was constantly climbing over fences and walking around impenetrable thickets and bushes. In this way he managed to get into Sparrow wood, roughly 2 miles away from Orpington, by about 4 in the morning as the sun was just starting to come up. He decided to rest there for an hour before risking going into Orpington. He climbed a large tree finding a place to sit where he could also see the town. From his distance he couldn’t tell much about the place. There were two church spires still standing and he could just make out some of the larger buildings sin the high street. As for the houses, no way of knowing, though he was pretty sure he wouldn’t find anyone alive. After an hour he climbed down and carefully walked toward the town. On the outskirts he could feel his anxiety rising. The few shops, a newsagent, a greengrocer and a petrol station, were all deserted, most with broken or boarded up windows. He tried the door of the newsagent but it was locked or jammed and he didn’t want t make any noise breaking in so he carried on. Harriet’s family home was a large one, with a small gravel drive and large entrance gates. Her Dad had been a stockbroker, now, much more clearly, a useless profession, for which he was paid much more than most people in the country. He felt that if they were anywhere they’d be there. It was big, there was a possibility of dried and tin foods and they also had a huge wine cellar, not that useful but sure as hell made you feel better. Most of the supermarkets and off license were stripped of their booze early on, people focussing on oblivion rather than essentials when it became clear that there was little or no hope for them. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Fergus spent the night in the woods, again. He should’ve left, 2 days ago, they hadn’t come, they were probably not going to come, he was on his own, that was that. Why he didn’t go with them he really couldn’t remember now. It was a stupid idea, going back to their homes, to get supplies, to check if anyone was alive before they got out, tried to get to the coast. He already knew his family were dead, they’d been killed in front of him, so he had nothing to go back for. He told them it was a stupid idea but couldn’t honestly say he wouldn’t have done the same, if he hadn’t known. The plan was, he would wait in the woods, near the road and they, should have met him, yesterday, well the day before really but they’d agreed to allow one days leeway. They all knew the towns weren’t safe. They’d been living rough for a couple of weeks now. In the end though, Harriet and then Gus, had to go, they were waiting for him 4 days ago when he woke up. They’d made a shelter in the heart of the woods, out of leaves and an old tarpaulin and branches. It was waterproof, sort of, but wouldn’t be good enough when the weather changed. Gus and Harriet had their own space and he his. ‘Why are you all packed up? Where are we going on a food run?’ They’d looked at each other, then at him ‘What! Oh you’re not are you...You can’t.’ ‘We have to Fergus,’ said Harriet. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t just leave, until I know.’ ‘Me neither,’ said Gus. He hardly bothered arguing with them in the end. He couldn’t find a good enough reason. Yes, they were risking their lives, but then no one really knew what their lives would be like, how much longer they’d survive. He felt angry though and he felt scared of being on his own. SO why hadn’t he gone with them? ‘You could come you know,’ said Harriet,’ We could do with some help. Don’t know what the fuck we’re going to find in there.’ He said no though, said he’d stay and keep an eye on things here and that he couldn’t bear to go back there, where he’d left his parents and his little sister, dead on the floor of their house, just left them their because he’d had to go, immediately. That was the truth or part of it but the main thing was he felt betrayed, they were going off to find people, on the very slim chance that they’d be alive and these people were more important to them than he was, simple as that so fuck them, let them go, he didn’t need them and might as well get used to being on his own. Before they’d left they’d decided to all go towards Cornwall, partly because it ws near the coast, and boats and possibilities of leaving the country, and partly because it was remote and may be safer. They didn’t have a great hope about it but knew they had t get as far away from London as they could and where they were now, Surrey, was much too close. They could see the smoke from London but also a lot closer now. Three days ago they’d heard the explosions, much loser and see the smoke and at night saw the flashes and guns going off. ‘It must be Croydon,’ said Gus. ‘The Town Hall,’ said Harriet. They’d stayed at the Town Hall for a couple of weeks, there were about 50 people there, well barricaded, with enough food for a few months. John Kingston, who was kind of running things, wanted them to day, said they’d be safe an they nearly did. There were kids, they had a system and a huge place to cook up big old meals. It felt a bit like family for the first time in ages. But hey decided it wasn’t safe. Every day the fighting, or the destruction, got lcoser. ‘We’re too close to London John,’ Fergus had told them on the night before they’d left. Tried to persuade them all to come, head for the coast, find a boat. He wouldn’t listen and the others listened to him, as he seemed t know what he was doing. He’d rigged up generators and somehow managed to get a water supply going, they looked to him and he said no, we’ll be safe. They had a huge basement in the Town Hall, bit of a bunker and if they came to Croydon John was sure they could hide out, barricade themselves in an wait until they’d razed Croydon to the ground and left. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
I’m not like some of these others. They’ve only been around since the move and the refit and the upgrade and the general decision to get rid of most of the reliable old faithful and replace them with these shiny new little bastards. I’m sure it’s just as bad in the other rooms, but I can only speak for the kitchen, well mainly. Obviously I get around, bedroom, front room, most mornings, with his nibs coffee. Still have that to look forward to I guess. He seems a creature of habit, maybe it was her idea, all this new stuff, new plates, never seen anything like these freaks, they’re no even round and they’re certainly not white. All sorts of bizarre colours and no respect for their elders. I heard that octagonal side plate the other day, talking about Winston, my old pal, from the bone china set, been around longer than I have, in the family, the old parents, presumed dead now. We never see them anyway. Anyway, where was I, oh yeah, that little octagonal shit, calling Winston granddad and threatening to smash him, push him off the shelf – it’s a disgrace. I’m expecting the same from these stainless steel upstarts, whole load of them next to me now as we wait cringing for the timer to kick in and blast us with water, at 4.30 in the morning of all times – just because its cheaper. What about us and our sleep. In the old days, when we were washed by hand, OK, it was a bit rough, being scrubbed with a brush or even a scouring pad if you were unlucky, but at least it was always at a decent hour. The only time I can remember having to wake up this time was when he came home late one night, coughing and slurring his speech and staggering around and deciding he wanted a cup of coffee, he needed it, that’s fro sure and he needed me, his old faithful silver spoon, to stir it and make that sugar melt and I was happy to do it. It didn’t feel abusive like this does. It felt like stepping up to the plate, or the cup, obviously, but you know what, I felt proud. If you’re treated right you don’t mind a bit of hardship from time to time, makes you feel like you’re special and well thought of and indispensible and all that. So now, here we all are, jammed in the rack with a load of cheap shiny angular cutlery, woken up early or actually, I wake up before the machine now, anticipation, getting old I guess. Problem is I don’t get to bed any earlier. He still has his late night cup of cocoa and I still have to stir it, always the hardest of jobs to, getting all the lumps out. I cant manage it so well now though, what with all these early mornings, , don’t have the energy. I noticed he’ been complaining a nit to her, saying it’s al lumpy, did you heat the milk up did you stir it first or enough? Won’t be long until he works it out, I’m knackered, not fit for this modern world. Get one of the youngsters in, they burn out quick, they’ll be out in the next refit but they’re cheap, so it doesn’t matter. I don’t mind too much I guess, I’m banking on a display cabinet. In the old days I would have felt useless and bored and redundant, but now it feels like a nice way to have a rest and it also means that I won’t have to go in that bloody machine any more. I remember when they got it. He said to her, don’t put the old cutlery and china in there will you, oh no she says, but within a couple of days we were all chucked in with everything else. My shine’s gone and so have at least 6 of the old plates, couldn’t stand it, shattered, all the heat, it gets so hot in here. I want to get up on that shelf over the fireplace with his coins. Feels proper somehow and I’m hopeful. He seems like the sort to keep an old favourite like me even when I’ve outlived my usefulness in this modern world. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
Stand up straight when I’m talking to you man! No slouching in this office do you hear. Now, what is there to report? What do you mean nothing you idiot! Oh, so there’s no one around, no one, are you absolutely sure? Well where are they all, they should be up making breakfast and cleaning the house, we’ve got the governor coming tomorrow and at this rate its going to be an absolute bloody disgrace. What’s that Justin, said his Mum. Nothing mum, he said. He’d been talking to himself. When ever he put his grandfather’s old straw hat on it reminded him of all the stories he used to tell him about his time in India and he became a character, captain higginson, based on his grandfather. Colonel Ramsbottom, was in charge and obviously a name Justin found very amusing, but he wouldn’t tolerate anyone snickering. Last man that sniggered at my name was sent straight back to Blighty, the long way round, do you hear me boy. His Mum said that he was a little bit creative with his stories, and that a lot of the things he talked about may not have actually happened to him, but that he heard about them or exaggerated a bit. Do you think Grandfather’s a liar then Mum? he asked her. Not exactly, but he likes to be creative, lets leave it at that shall we? He didn’t care and he believed every word and although his grandfather had died last year, Justin could still remember exactly how he looked, sounded and smelled, when he put the hat on. The smell was the strongest thing and some of it lingered in the hat. A combination of fusty old man and pipe tobacco. He liked the smell and sometimes when his mum was busy he’d find hid Grandfathers old pipe and clamp it between his teeth just like he used to do, when he wore the hat and played the India game, as he liked to call it. This morning there’d been a dreadful incident at the house, the colonel had called him in and asked about the preparations for the governors visit only to be told that no staff could be found. As the morning progressed they found out that they’d al left – some sort of damned rebellion, apparently. I won’t tolerate it said the colonel, give them an inch and they’ll take over the bloody country. We have to clamp down hard. So he’d dismissed them all. Obviously Justin, or Captain Higginson as he was now, in memory of his grandfather, couldn’t actually dismiss them because they weren’t there, they’d all gone off to join some sort of demonstration , against the Queen of all things. The colonel said they ought t be shot for such Treasonous behaviour but Justin wasn’t really sure what Treasonous meant so he ignored that. What he needed to do he decided was hire some new staff, that way when the old ones came back, as they surely would, where else would they get their food and pay from, he could send them all away without inconveniencing the household or messing up the governors visit. The thing was where did one get the ruddy staff.? He set off into town immediately after his dressing down from the colonel and spent a good few hours trying to find people who wanted to work. Quickly he realised it was a waste of time. The whole place was in uproar. The queen and her party were due to arrive and the police and army were everywhere trying to keep the road clear from demonstrators who seemed to consist of the entire population, including he noticed, the staff that were supposed to be helping him. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
It was a weird sort of Tuesday for Emily. Most Tuesdays were the going out days. She was allowed 1 a week, just like most good citizens and like most, cherished them. Today though, she stayed in. Not because she’d been punished or given extra duties or because she had a load of interesting or pressing things that simply had to be done indoors. Today, she just sat in her armchair, next to her bed. The TV was off, of course, it was only ever on, on Sundays when it showed the weekly exploits of the Chairman as he toured the Enclave and visited other leaders in their own , obviously inferior versions of the Enclave. There was The President, as he called himself, in the Compound; their was the King – deluded – in his Kingdom and of course, who could forget the Almighty, who came in for particular derision from the Chairman’s broadcast, who ruled over his ‘Golden Domain’. As the Chairman often reminded them, his title was not showy or flash or unnecessarily ostentatious. It was simply functional. He chaired the governing body of the Enclave and as such was duly called the Chairman. It was obvious, he said, the superiority of the enclave compared to these other absurd places, with their fancy names. Fancy names were only needed if the substance of the thing wasn’t quite up to scratch, he told them. Hence the enclave; hence the workers, Emily and most of the others in the enclave, and the Committee, chaired by the Chairman – all simple, with nothing to hide and much to be proud of. The Chairman was proud and told them weekly, that just for illustration purposes, he needed to remind them how lucky they were to be living in the Enclave compared to one of the other ‘despotic domains’. The Kingdom, for example, only allowed outdoor time once a month, he said and the so- called Golden Domain, wouldn’t permit the workers to enjoy the sort of luxury car that the Enclave allowed its workers to buy, at such reasonable rates. No, they were given a bog-standard horse and cart and they had to pay for the horse stabling and feeding and as for the Compound, might as well be called a Prison as far as the Chairman was concerned. None of the delicious foodstuffs that the Enclave provided, none of the comforts of the factory, and no entertainment, like the weekly presentation in the Enclave town square. So Emily had no reason to stay at home. She could have visited the few friends and family that had managed to make it over the wall, she could have spent her weekly credit in the foodstuff store, but she didn’t, she just sat in the armchair, staring blankly. She was thinking about Harvey; 6 months now and still no word. She had expected him to be here by now, she knew he had a scheduled entry assessment a few weeks after her and even allowing for re-sits and penalties, he should have been here by now. He only had one more application left before permanent residence behind the wall was enforced and she was worried that he might have used it up and failed again then she’d never see him. She knew he wouldn’t cope, couldn’t just accept it and stay there, living on the scraps from the Enclave and the other domains. He’d try and break through, bribing or forcing his way in, but she knew that never worked. He always talked about people he knew had done it but when she pressed him, the names he mentioned were all people that had been found and either killed in the hunt or sent back, usually injured or crippled. She was thinking the unthinkable. She was thinking that even though this was better and healthier and you had a much longer life span, it was nothing to do with freedom and without Harvey it was a miserable hideous existence. She wanted to live with him, to see him when she wanted and to do what she wanted. Even though there was no money and only refuse to eat, at least no one controlled your time or what you did or where you went in the boundaries of the shitty world. She was planning on going back. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Steve Wybourn ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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