Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning (17 page)

              Winter heard the rustle of sheets being pulled into place, heard the mattress groan with an added weight, and heard Violet let out an exhausted sigh.

              There was silence for a while. Winter could only hear the natural creaks of the building, the sounds of distant footsteps a few floors above, cars driving through the town outside slowly.

              Then Violet spoke, and Winter was not surprised that she had failed to fool her.

              “What the hell started this?”

              Winter didn’t reply. Not for a while, anyway. She wanted Violet to think she was asleep, or maybe she wanted Violet to believe she didn’t care.

              “I don’t know if we’ll ever know that,” Winter whispered.

              “What the hell changed regular humans like me and you, into ravaging beasts like that?”

              Winter adjusted her position in the bed, finding somewhere comfortable, willing sleep.

              “A virus,” Winter ventured. “I think it is some sort of virus.”

              Violet breathed in. Again, silence filled the room. The two girls heard the distant sound of a car door shutting.

              “But what virus turns people into monsters?”

              “How do we stop it?”

              “I don’t think it’s something we can just stop,” Violet said. Winter heard her lean up in the bed above, and a second later her head appeared over the side of the bed, slightly obscured by the darkness of the room. Winter could see Violet was looking at her, reading her emotions. “Not until we learn what caused this and how it’s transmitted.”

              “A bite. I saw it.”

              Violet nodded, and her head disappeared from view. Winter heard her lying down once more.

              “A bite,” she repeated. It sounded like she was lost in thought. “We need to avoid being bitten.”

              “The bite seems to just weaken a person, some quicker than others, until suddenly they’re lying on the ground, and a moment later they’re up looking for flesh to tear apart.”

              “They don’t even seem to eat the person, though.” Violet said, as if this was an every day conversation to be had. “It’s just a bite, tearing of flesh, bloodbaths and that’s it.”

              “There must be some sort of counter virus,” Winter whispered. The thought seemed to give her some newfound hope. “There must be something, somewhere, that can save those already alive and kill those already dead.”

              “You’ve been watching too many films.” Violet laughed.

              “Have I?” It was Winter’s turn to sit up. She threw the blankets away from her and looked up to the bed above, staring at blank ceiling for a few seconds before Violet peered over curiously. “I mean, there must be something, someone can do. We could even do it!”

              “I don’t think so,” Violet said, and even in the dark Winter could see her rolling her eyes. “They haven’t even found a cure for cancer yet. Something tells me they won’t find a cure for this anytime soon.”

              “Paris,” Winter breathed, more to herself than Violet. “That’s gotta be why people are going there for safety. That
must
be where the vaccination is.”

              “Whatever.” Violet rolled away onto the mattress out of view.

              Winter, feeling slightly deflated, lay back down in bed. The hope that had burnt inside her only a few moments ago had gone.

              “If we don’t find a cure…” Winter said, deliberating on whether or not to continue.

              “If we don’t find a cure?”

              “If we don’t find a cure, we find the reason behind this, and we stop it.”

              Winter heard Violet exhale, possibly a laugh of doubt, of pity.

              “How far do you think Connor is?”

              Winter wasn’t ready to change the subject, but something told her that there was no arguing with Violet. She definitely thought that they weren’t any different to the rest of the survivors in the world. The help the world desperately needed was not in this room.

              “I think he’s got where he wanted to go,” Winter’s voice was barely audible. She didn’t believe her own words.

              “He’s safe, Winter,”

              There were no hiding emotions from Violet. She could sense it, almost. She knew.

              “But what if he’s not?”

              “He is.”

              And that was that. The pair didn’t speak for the rest of the night. Winter didn’t know when Violet fell asleep, if it was before or after the owl outside hooted, or a late night traveller cruised on by. Winter didn’t know if she fell asleep before or after the sound of a bottle rolling across stone sounded in the night, she couldn’t remember, but she remembered her dream like it was real.

              The house they were staying in broke apart from the tall building of flats, falling down onto the ocean, where the waves battered against the walls, threatening to break the windows.

              Winter could hear Violet screaming, but she couldn’t see her friend anywhere. Something splashed in the water next to her, making Winter leap out of her own bed onto a cosy armchair. There, splashing in the water, her brown hair ruined, was Missy Founder.

              Missy was infected. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin was thinning, and her humanity was being replaced with nothing but the emotion to kill.

              Yet something remained. Her fading eyes met with Winter’s, and Missy called out to her old friend, screaming that she had been forgotten at the party, that Winter should have helped her, that she had been left to die.

              Then, without any warning, a submarine broke through the vicious waters. The submarine was on fire, and Violet stood in the middle, surrounded by towering flames that threatened to engulf her.

              Violet called to Winter just like Missy had, but her words were kind. She asked that she take care of her mother, protect her brothers, and buy a pint of milk and a loaf of bread as the bread in the kitchen was two days past its sell by date.

              Winter promised she would as she watched her friend burn alive. The heat intensifying, making Winter sweat.

              Winter woke with a start. She was sweating, and she realised it was because the sun had risen on a new day and was shining directly through the window onto the bed. As the flames flickered and died before her eyes, and the sounds of the crashing water faded away, Winter breathed in, realising that it had all been a bizarre dream.

* * *

              There was no word off Connor that morning, not that Winter expected it. She sat in silence as they all ate breakfast, aware that Violet was watching her with concern.

              At twenty to one, Violet told Winter she was taking her brothers out for food, and that they would then be spending time in the playground for an hour.

              “If you don’t mind, could you look after mum? The carers won’t be here until two.”

              Winter agreed, although she felt apprehension set in at the prospect of being alone with Violet’s mother.

              As Violet pulled on the coats of her brothers, who fought to keep it off their backs, she leant in towards Winter.

              “America will be gone by the end of the day,” she whispered. “Judging by the news, it’s completely destroyed. Florida is already gone.”

              Winter’s eyes widened. “America. I thought that place would have been untouchable.”

              Violet shrugged. “Listen, you’ll be alright with my mum.”

              “Just go,”

              Violet nodded. She ushered her brothers out of the front door, and Winter heard their voices echoing in the stairwell.

              Winter suddenly felt cold, small, lonely. She was alone with Ashley, who was awake, lying on the sofa, waiting for Winter to sit down at her side.

              Winter did just that. She turned on the TV and put the news on, smiling at Ashley as she did.

              “You don’t mind, do you?”

              Ashley blinked. “Of course not. I’d like to know what is going on in this world, bad or good. Although it’s almost always bad, isn’t it?”

              The news reporter, a man in his late twenties, possibly early thirties, looked tired. The normally formal appearance of a news reporter was replaced with fear, shabbiness.

              “The United States of America faces the worst outbreak yet, with the population dwindling into their thousands.” The man said, his eyes flickering away from the camera. “Evacuation squads have made America their top priority, with evacuated people being transported to France through the air.”

              “Terrible,” Ashley muttered.

              “The bigger countries look set to follow in America’s footsteps, with China becoming a war zone and Russia a bloodbath.”

              The news report changed to that of a small town at nightfall. Houses were burning, the red shining vividly on the black canvas of sky behind them. People scattered, mixed in with the figures of the stumbling dead.

              “Australia has lost its major cities, with only small towns remaining. Evacuation squads are struggling to get into Australia, as most of the borders are now home to the dead.”

              Aerial shots of a beached submarine graced the screen now. A shaky, hand held camera zoomed in on the dead clawing their way on to an island. Winter noticed those that fell in the ocean struggled to get out.

              Then, with a transition, the island turned into London City Centre. Here was carnage. Buildings burnt to the ground, cars burnt out with only metal shells remaining, bodies littering the floor, killed by freak accidents.

              “The United Kingdom is on lockdown, with people urged to stay where they are and call evacuation squads immediately,” the news reporter said. His voice was solemn. “Nobody is to venture out of their houses unless to greet the government squads. The United Kingdom is only a few steps away from crumbling completely.”

              Winter heard Ashley sigh behind her, and thought she should turn off the TV. She did, and Ashley breathed in again. Winter turned herself around to face Violet’s mother, fearing that Ashley was going to be sick or was possibly having some sort of fit.

              Instead, Ashley was looking at her, tears in her eyes.

              “Are you okay?” Winter asked, feeling stupid. It was clear Ashley was anything but okay.

              “I saw enough of that.” Ashley pointed at the now blank TV. “What the fuck happened to this world?”

              Winter had nothing to say.

              “Violet wouldn’t tell me anything,” Ashley said. “But I’ve seen enough of that now to know why. I wish she just told me, so I knew what I had to face.”

              “You won’t have to face any of that. You’re going to be out of here tonight.”

              Ashley looked like she thought this was impossible. “Tonight?”

              Winter nodded.

              “But what about Violet?”

              Winter didn’t reply instantly. Violet had lied, said they would be leaving an hour after Ashley. Had she said anything different?

              “She’s staying, isn’t she?” Ashley asked. It must have been Winter’s body language that gave it away. “Violet is staying with you and that boy?”

              “There were only three spaces available. She wanted you and the boys to go. You’ll be looked after there, and Violet will be right behind you.”

              “But what if she’s not? What if she gets killed? What if you all get killed? You’re just children! You’re only young and you need your life. I’ve had mine.”

              “But the boys haven’t. They need to be saved more than we do.”

              “I never gave them a good life,” Ashley sighed. “Violet, Ben, Ryan…they’ve all been forced to live how
I
had to live. That is no life, is it?”

              “They love you. They don’t hate you for it.”

              “Of course they do,” she wasn’t being unkind, but she was being stern. “The boys might not. Not yet, anyway. They’re too young to know a better life. But Violet looks at me with hatred. She hates her life, and that life of hers has happened because of me.”

              Ashley lifted an arm, thinning and pale. It shook with her weight, and flopped back down on the lumpy sofa a few seconds later. Winter lifted up a cup of water that was on the floor and helped Ashley lift her head to take a sip.

              “What mother allows her daughter to do prostitution, whether she is able bodied or not?” Ashley asked. “What mother allows her daughter to spend nights in the company of men who could potentially be crazed psychopaths that want to see her dead?”

              Ashley began to cry.