Survival: After It Happened Book 1 (2 page)

Dan

“Neil, when you say got out did you mean military or prison?” the man asked.

Neil laughed, and explained how he’d been nine years in the British Army - joined as a kid straight out of school and left when he got the ‘family or bust’ ultimatum. The man steered that conversation quickly away before he thought about his own life. His old life.

He realised his luck might’ve turned on the basis that a) he’s not the only person alive and b) the man is an ex-Army mechanic.

They drove down into the small town centre, along the pedestrianised part whilst having a look at the shops. A camping shop caught the man’s eye, and he suggested they grab some camping supplies.

“Good idea old bean” responded Neil chirpily, in yet another accent. The man liked the term; years ago he’d been called that by someone he used to work with.

“My name’s Dan” he said to Neil, realising he’d failed to introduce himself.

“Hmmm, Dan you are?” Neil said, launching into a very good Yoda impression.

Dan laughed and walked to the door to look at the locks. Neil joined him. The shop was locked, but a few minutes levering with the police kit soon opened the doors to them.

It was mid-July, so not likely to get too cold but they both selected a good waterproof coat each on the basis that it still got pretty cold during the night when outside. A look at the price tags made Dan raise an eyebrow.

Some sleeping bags, a couple of tents, camp stove and all the gas bottles they had filled the car. Neil also got a few pairs of walking trousers and some new boots; Dan was already in black combats and a well broken-in pair of sturdy boots.

“We’re gonna need a bigger boat” said Dan. Neil laughed at the film reference, but agreed. It was starting to get well into the evening so the two unlikely allies decided to stay in the shop for the night. They locked up the car and took their bags upstairs where the shop had set up a small camp to demonstrate the tents.

They set up some wind-up lamps, making a mental note to take all that they could find, got a camping stove on the go and started to cook up some food. Neil called it mountaineering spew – stewed steak and a tin of new potatoes – but complained that there should be an egg in it. Afterwards, Dan offered to wash the dishes, and when Neil graciously agreed to allow him, he lobbed the dirty pan over his shoulder. They both laughed, and Neil poured two glasses, well, plastic cups, of single malt.

“So mate, what’s the plan?” Neil asked.

“I’m not sure there is one” Dan mused “but I’m certain we can’t cruise the country forever like this – I don’t think I could adapt to this level of decadence” he said, raising his brightly coloured beaker to Neil in a toast.

“Yeah, good one, seriously though, what are we going to do?” Neil asked as he leant forward.

Dan noticed how quickly it’d become a ‘we’ scenario, then thought about how many other survivors there could be out there. He’d covered about twelve miles from home, passed through two small towns and gone down major roads and he’d only seen Neil. That’s got to be two in more than ten thousand people alive? There was what, sixty plus million in the UK? There could only be a few thousand human beings alive on this island so yeah, he thought it had to be a ‘we’ situation.

“Well” Dan started, not really knowing where all this was coming from, “we need to establish a temporary camp, somewhere with access to food and water and other supplies. We need to collect vehicles, food, equipment and most importantly, more of us. We can’t grow crops just the two of us, and we sure as shit aren’t going to perpetuate the human race!”

Neil laughed, but seemed deep in thought. “Yes mate. That’s a plan. Go on”

He continued, “…and when there’s enough of us we need to find a permanent site, go all Victorian Farm or something. Somewhere that can house lots of us, somewhere we can grow crops and raise livestock and all that stuff I have no idea about. We could start our own society; I’ll be the President and you could be in charge of accents…”

They both laughed, sipped their single malts in perfect synchronicity and leaned back onto their camp beds, deep in.

They woke the next morning with a little more purpose. Packed the car with as much as they could, including more tins and bottled water from a nearby shop, and set out with their plan of building a survivors’ society. They decided that the X5 had to go; it was a big vehicle but the boot was fitted with the stuff for the guns and didn’t have enough space plus it had too many fancy gadgets which would maximise its breaking down potential.

A set of decent walkie-talkies were found, along with a stack of batteries. Dan tried the police radio in the car, but without power to the systems the digital network was down.

First stop, proper survival vehicles. They discussed this, and without much argument settled on Land Rovers. Ten miles away was a dealership, and after having to reverse the X5 through the big glass doors they set about car shopping.

Neil had his heart set on a new Range Rover, but Dan argued that they needed to be less bling about their choices and more utilitarian.

He settled on a black one-ten Defender with a roof rack and Neil eventually followed suit and chose a similar grey one. Dan’s had a winch on the front, which he thought would come in handy at some point. It took a while to find the keys and tools to remove the wheels from other Defenders and strap them down on the racks so both had another five spare wheels.

They found a few jerrycans in the garage, and Dan helped himself to the speed jack they’d used to get the other wheels off. After he’d almost choked himself on diesel by trying to suck it through the piece of hose pipe, Neil showed him a better way by putting the whole pipe into the tank and putting his thumb over the end before drawing it out quickly. The repeated this until both trucks were full and they carried sixty litres of extra fuel taken from the rest of the stock vehicles.

They’d gathered maps from the camping shop, but both Neil and Dan knew the area anyway. They decided to set up their temporary camp on the car park of a large nearby Morrisons. As they jumped in and started their new motors, Neil called out a warning over the radio.

“I saw someone!” he said excitedly.

Dan looked over to him and saw him pointing straight in front towards some bushes. He drove to the left and into the car park behind the bushes, just in time to see a flash of movement disappearing again behind an industrial unit.

He got out and shouted to whoever it was, “Come back! We won’t hurt you, it’s ok…PLEASE…”

Nothing.

From what he could see he had no idea if it was male or female, young or old.

They decided to leave a message anyway, and using spray paint they daubed instructions to come to the supermarket, giving directions and leaving the keys to the X5 there with a promise to help.

As they drove, Neil called Dan on the radio again from his position behind as they dodged the abandoned cars.

“Mate, there’s a caravan place down here on the left, shall we check it out?”

“Plan” he replied, who actually hated caravans for a number of reasons.

Neil had great fun, he moved a few of the smaller ones around and took the wheel clamps off two big caravans. He hitched them up to the Defenders, clearly having done this before, and gave Dan a quick lesson in towing. It would’ve been a valuable lesson, however he delivered it in the style of the quintessential travelling gentleman and he couldn’t really follow much of it.

The word ‘Dags’ appeared once or twice and there was a mention of what to say if ‘da po-liss’ stop them, but Dan was laughing too much to take careful note by the end.

They noted the site for a return trip to get more caravans and gas bottles, wishful thinking for finding more people they supposed. They towed both caravans to the supermarket and parked them up away from the main entrance, which was blocked with abandoned cars. Clearly someone had tried to break in; unsuccessfully by the look of things.

They set about moving the abandoned cars clear, giving themselves space to set up the caravans. The beauty of driving a Defender was made clear; it was the big bully of car pushing.

Neil was obviously experienced at setting up the fold out legs. Dan thought that caravan holidays probably meant family, so he kept very quiet.

“I’ll go and finish the botch job on those doors” he called to Neil, who just waved irritably as he was busy winding down the weird leg things.

Give me a tent any day, thought Dan.

He had to use the hydraulic door spreader to get the doors open enough to prise the lock housings out, and was sweating and out of breath by the time he’d finished. He could smell the fruit and veg starting to go off already. A quick walk around the shop showed that there was enough food and water to last for months living in their caravans, he just wanted to find as many people as he could to join them.

Maybe saving more people will wipe out the guilt of leaving her in bed where she died.

When he got back outside Neil was finishing connecting the gas bottle to the last caravan and graced him with a loud, cockney “tadaa!”

Dan in turn produced some tins of stewed steak and potatoes and a box of eggs; mountaineering spew it was again then.

As they sat in folding chairs by their caravans eating dinner, they discussed the next day’s plans.

“We need a lorry. Load it up with all the good stuff from here” said Neil

Dan agreed that it was a good idea, they needed to find proper supply and scavenging vehicles if the thought forming in his head were to work. But they’d also need a lot more people with them to drive and load those trucks.

“I think we should stay here for a while – the weather will be ok for a few months and we’ve got plenty of food and shelter. What we need to do is get out there and get more vehicles and caravans back here, and more people to fill them.” Dan paused, unsure if he should voice his ideas just yet.

“There have to be more people alive; we saw one at the Land Rover garage remember?” he reasoned.

“Ok mate, chill out yeah?” shot back Neil, this time in a convincing Cape Town accent. “Tomorrow. Tonight we rest and continue our prescribed course of Glenfiddich. Chin Chin!” he said, raising an actual glass this time.

She felt cold. She’d decided to sleep in the back of the car the men left. She heard them smashing the doors with it and watched them for ages, wanting to go and speak to them. She wanted to burst out in tears and ask for help and tell them she was scared and that her Mum and her little brother hadn’t woken up.

She wasn’t that naïve really; she knew they were dead.

The night before, she listened to her mum coughing all night until she didn’t cough any more. Her brother hadn’t made a noise for hours and she knew in her heart that they were gone, she just wasn’t brave enough to go and check. Everyone had got poorly, then they just died.

She lay there all night in the silent pitch black; the street light outside her window having shut off during the night. She’d been inside the house for two days now because everyone was sick. Before her mobile phone lost wifi and then normal signal, none of her friends would answer her texts or Facetime calls.

She waited in bed until 8:30, as she always did so as not to get in trouble for waking people up. She wasn’t like some other twelve year olds; she wasn’t feeling the need to sleep all morning like a teenager yet.

She loved her makeup, YouTube and she lived never more than two feet away from her iPhone. Just like the family members in the house, everything she loved just no longer existed. She was scared, hungry, traumatised and completely alone.

She couldn’t force herself to check the other two bedrooms; to see what she knew was in there would just make it real.

Leah tried to be logical. She got a bottle of water from the fridge, which wasn’t that cold any more, and helped herself to the secret stash of chocolate for breakfast. She couldn’t quite bring herself to reason that the previous owner had no further need of it.

She sat down and tried the TV. Dead. The laptop. Dead. The Kindle. Dead. Like a typical twelve-year-old she was already bored. She tried her phone. It had no signal or data, but she played games for a while.

She decided that she couldn’t sit there forever with nothing to do, so she got dressed, packed her handbag and another bag with some essentials (makeup, hairbrush, mirror, phone charger) and went downstairs.

She left the house, not bothering with a coat as it was warm and dry, shut the door behind her and probably blocked out the fact that she’d never return there again.

She walked into town, bag in the crook of her elbow, iPhone in hand playing some Taylor Swift, with a small sense of normality. She ignored the dead silence that surrounded her and the sight of abandoned cars. The inactivity of the world seemed alien and frightening.

That’s when she heard the glass breaking. She killed Taylor quickly and crept up to the bushes where there was a car garage. She saw two men, one tall and dark, the other shorter and fatter with no hair. They seemed to be friends and they didn’t look like paedophiles, but as she was told in school all the time; you don’t know what a paedophile looks like and you should never go to strangers without a parent. Well that clearly wasn’t going to happen, and she didn’t trust the look of the men enough so she just watched.

They were in there for ages, and could hear them arguing about the cars. One said, “Look at this one though, it’s gorgeous” He said ‘gorgeous’ in a funny voice, which made Leah smile.

The taller one, who looked moody and not funny at all, said the other man wanted to be a drug dealer and started taking wheels off the cars. Leah knew drug dealers were bad people, so she thought she’d done the right thing by staying put. The moody one had something on his leg which Leah thought looked a bit like a gun. She knew that guns were illegal and that worried her.

She watched the moody looking one nearly throw up when he tried to drink the petrol out of one of the cars, but the funny one showed him what he was doing wrong.

Leah decided that she would just walk past and speak to them, make out like she was going somewhere. She doubted they were the kind of bad people she was always told to avoid, but you never know. She probably realised deep down that she had to find some help.

She had nobody left to look after her.

She’d been daydreaming like that for a while when she looked up and saw the funny man looking right at her. The moody man drove his big car fast to where she was hiding, so she ran. She didn’t know how far she had gone but she was gasping for breath and crying uncontrollably by the time she stopped. She thought the moody man shouted at her when she ran away, and decided it was probably a good idea she didn’t go near them.

A while later she walked back to where the garage was, and saw that the men were gone. After a time spent watching from the bushes again she went to see what they’d done, and read the note they had painted on the floor:

“
Survivors at Morrisons – come and join us. We can provide food and shelter. We’ve left the keys to the BM – food and water inside”

She thought that the BM was the big car they had used to break the doors, but didn’t understand why they took other cars. There were numbers after a capital A painted there too, Leah though that might be a road or something. She did know a big Morrisons in the next town because her mum took them there when they didn’t go to Aldi, but she didn’t know how to get there.

She looked around the garage for a bit. Nothing worked, just like at home, but she did find loads of biscuits in a cupboard under a coffee machine that looked like a spaceship. She ate a whole packet, and drank one of the bottles of water left in the car.

Now she faced a difficult decision. She thought that the men she saw had scared her, but now that they left the note they seemed to want to help. They probably knew what was going on and could help her get to her Grandparent’s or something. She decided that she probably had to find other people, and these men had left her water and some other snacks so they probably weren’t going to hurt her.

She decided that she should definitely go and see them at the shops. The only problem being, that she didn’t know how to get there. The car they left had a big fancy screen, and she though that might be a sat nav. If she could get it working she could type in ‘Morrisons’ and the road number and it would show her the way.

She went to put the key in the ignition like she’d seen other people do all the time. Only problem was that there wasn’t a key hole, and the car key didn’t have a metal bit sticking out. She eventually figured out that the key was like a bank card that you fitted in the slot on the dashboard. She put it in and the blowers started up, startling her.

There was a button that said ‘START STOP engine’ which seemed like a good way to go.

She pressed it and was rewarded with the noise of a six-cylinder diesel firing up straight away. She didn’t know this, obviously, but she jumped out of her skin because it sounded like a lorry was in the building with her.

Steadying her nerves, she looked at the gear stick. Grandad’s car had numbers on it and she knew you had to put it in ‘1’ then take off the handbrake. Then you had to do the pedals; change gear, stop and go. Easy.

This one had letters and symbols and there wasn’t a handbrake and only two pedals. She messed around with the controls for a while until, completely terrifying her, the car shot backwards and hit a Jaguar sports car.

Panicking, she moved the gear thing again until the car stopped moving and hit the button to make the engine stop. Leah started to cry, thinking that she was in trouble and would probably not get any pocket money until she was about twenty years old; like the time she knocked a glass ornament over in a shop and her mum had to pay for it.

Then it dawned on her that she wasn’t going to get in trouble, because there was nobody left to tell her off.

Crying harder, she curled up on the backseat where she eventually realised she was cold. Resigned, she turned the fan to hot, shut the door and lay down to cry some more.