Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning (24 page)

              She was carrying two bags, one full of food and the other clothes. Tucked under her arm was a newspaper. Zach followed after her, carrying three bags of bottles, which looked too heavy for him. Strapped to his back were guns.

              “I bet you were a sight walking across the square like that,” Winter grinned.

              Her joke floated in the air, but nobody rose to it. Violet put down her bags, looking worried. Winter sat up, aware that something wasn’t right.

              “What is it?” She asked.

              “It’s Connor,” Violet said, unfolding the newspaper. “There’s a picture of him in the newspaper.”

Chapter Eleven

              Winter tried standing up, but the pain in her ankle shot up her leg, prompting her to stop. Violet and Zach approached her looking worried.

              “There’s a report on the attack of our street, and he’s there, in the middle of the street.”

              Winter’s heart sunk. Had Connor been only feet away? Had he perhaps only been seconds behind Zach saving Winter and Violet?

              Violet handed over the newspaper, and without thinking of what the consequences might be she flipped through the pages.

              It wasn’t hard to miss. The street carnage was the biggest photo on the page. Looking at it now, Winter couldn’t believe how bad it had been. A telephone pole in the background was lit red, burning brightly, and stood feet away in the middle of the street was Connor. His clothes were bloody, but otherwise he looked fine. There was fear in his eyes, which told Winter he was not infected in this photo. Brief hope was given to her. The dead and the living, a car upturned to his side and a smashed glass window to his right, surrounded him. His eyes were looking straight at the camera, intentionally or not. It was almost as if he was looking straight at Winter.

              “He’s alive…” Winter whispered.

              “In that photo, yes.” Violet said, in a way that suggested she thought he wasn’t anymore.

              “He came back for us,” Winter sobbed. The tears were uncontrollable. They came from nowhere, and the grief she was feeling weighed down on her. She felt so scared and lonely all of a sudden. She felt weak. “We should have waited.”

              “I didn’t know there was someone else,” Zach said quietly.

              Winter looked at him. She saw how guilty he looked, as if he had been responsible for Connor’s potential death.

              “It’s not your fault,” Winter shut the newspaper and threw it away from her. “It’s no one’s fault. It’s the way things are.”

              “We’ll find him,” Violet said, looking at Winter intently. “We
will
find him, dead or alive.”

              Winter refused to believe he was dead. There was too much emotion in his eyes. He would survive, and he would survive for her.

              Winter breathed out, a long breath that dispelled her growing grief. She wiped the tears away from her eyes and tried to compose herself.

              “So what did you get?” She asked with a voice that was unstable.

              Zach unloaded the guns from his back. “Three assault rifles. I’ve got bullets in one of these bags. They’ll knock the zombies dead. If that is even possible.”

              “We also bought a dozen packs of first aid kits,” Violet spoke from the back of the room. “The first of which will be used on that foot of yours, Winter.”

              “Me and Violet agreed we need to go,” Zach said, inspecting his own gun. “We think we don’t have much time until this place is zombie infested.”

              “So we can call an evacuation squad tonight? Get out of here in a day or two?” Winter asked.

              “No, forget about that,” Violet said, coming in to view as she walked around the sofa. She sat next to Winter. “We’ve decided we’ll get to a place where we can lock ourselves in, pretty far away from an infected town for now, so we have time to sort ourselves. We think we’ll find a roof, preferably one that is accessible by helicopter, and then call to be evacuated.”

              “And will that work?”

              “Fuck knows,” Violet shrugged. “Can anything work? We’re out numbered.”

              “The human race is declining,” Zach added.

              The words hung in the air for just a moment before Violet spoke again.

              “We’ll also try and get in touch with Connor. I’m not sure how, but I was thinking we could possibly get ourselves featured in a newspaper or magazine, before they’re out of print.”

              “He’s not going to be reading newspapers or magazines,” Winter said.

              “We are.” Zach shrugged. “I’m sure a lot of people will want to know what’s happening around them, and they’ll definitely want to know if there are still boats taking us from London to Italy.”

              “France,” Violet corrected.

              “Whatever.”

              “And if the newspapers don’t work?” Winter asked.

              “They
will
work. You’re a celebrity, Winter, whether you like it or not. If you say you want to appeal, newspapers will make damn sure that your appeal is seen.”

              “
I
have to go through all of that again?”

              “Yep,” Violet said. “If you want to find Connor you will.”

              “How the hell is he going to get back in touch with us? After all, he isn’t a celebrity, is he? I have no photos of him, so no one is going to have a clue what he looks like!”

              “He might not,” Violet said, and this time her voice was serious. “We don’t even know if he’s alive, do we? But we’ve tried.”

              Winter didn’t think it would work. She didn’t want to be associating herself once more with reporters, especially now she was ready to leave all of that behind. Besides, if she was going to do it, shouldn’t she appeal to find her parents?

             
But do you want to?
A nagging voice sounded.
Are you bothered in finding them?

              Of course I am. They’re my parents.

              Do you want that life again?

             
Winter tried to stop thinking about it. She wasn’t prepared to argue with herself on something. She didn’t want to become a media public figure once again, especially now.

              “Listen, well done for coming up with the idea, but…”

              “No, we’re doing this, Winter,” Violet said. Her voice was stern. She was set on the idea, and that idea would go ahead.

              “No, we’re not.” Winter spoke quickly, desperate to get her point across. She could see Violet was about to answer back but refused to let her speak. “No one cares for newspapers or magazines, except for their reports on what is going on in London and the rest of the world. They only care for themselves and getting out of here. They won’t care about some celebrity who is supposedly on drugs using the media to find her boyfriend who she’s lost. Everyone has lost someone. I’m not the only one. They’ll hate me even more. They’ll just laugh at me. If I’m in trouble, they’d rather watch me die.”

              Zach was stood in front of Winter looking out of place. He had inspected his gun already, but was now looking at it again, trying to pretend he wasn’t listening.

              “There’s a chance Connor won’t even see it, and if he does, he could be hated, too. Nobody will save him. Plus, he has no way of getting back in touch with us. Zach said it himself. The printing business will be nothing in a few weeks. It’s pointless.”

              Violet stood up. She crossed her arms and towered above Winter, looking cross and irritated.

              “Look, I’m just trying to help, Winter. I know that you’re going to be moping about the place if we don’t find Connor, and I know the whole time spent in London will be you hoping to find him. We have to try, because he has to come with us. So put on your media persona and do this one last fucking time. For Connor.”

              Winter was slightly stunned. She hadn’t known Violet long, but they were speaking like old friends. Violet was very opinionated, and Winter could tell that when Violet had an idea, she would stick to it. In some senses, Violet was becoming a leader. Winter knew, from this moment, that Violet would be someone who shouldn’t be challenged. She was a good person to be around. She was sensible and street wise. But if you were on the wrong end of her, things could get nasty, and they simply couldn’t afford that happening. The last thing Winter wanted was for there to be nasty tension between the three of them, and for them to go their separate ways. If that happened, everything would soon be over.

              “Fine,” Winter said, resigned. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

              Violet nodded, looking pleased. “Contact that newspaper there, Zach. We’ve got an interview to arrange.”

* * *

              The next morning proved to be one that would go down in history as the worst in Winter’s life.

              Zach had rung the newspaper they had gotten, along with a bunch of other newspapers and magazines, and as soon as the words “Winter Smith wants to find her boyfriend,” were uttered, things were set in stone.

              The interviews were due to be staggered all day, as they didn’t want a huge press conference. Violet had taken it upon herself to organise the times, excitedly deciding what Winter should appear like and the type of things she should say.

              “Like you said, you want to be liked,” Violet said, brushing a lose strand of hair from Winter’s face. “So don’t come across as me, me, me. Mention that you think more should be done to reunite people with their families, and praise the government for keeping France safe for survivors!”

              “I don’t want to do this,” Winter said to Zach when Violet was out buying them clothes. The first set of reporters was due to be here in fifteen minutes.

              “I know, but we’ll find him. It’ll be okay.”

              When Violet came back, she presented Zach with a suit and herself with a classic black dress. Winter was wearing her ruined designer dress, which Violet had ripped up a bit more.

              “You’ve got to appear like everyone else,” Violet said. “You’re in it with them.”

              “Have you considered a job as a media trainer or something?” Winter asked.

              Violet looked pleased.

              The first reporters arrived, grumbling at the way they had been let in through the small flap in the side of the building. The interview was pretty straightforward. They were from a respectable newspaper with a small, celebrity section where Winter would appear. When they left, Violet looked annoyed.

              “That was a let down. He’s not going to see a small article, and neither is anyone else. This better be better.”

              The other newspaper reporters arrived in the morning. Nobody seemed to be too concerned in keeping this story going for Winter. They asked her questions on who Connor was, how long they had been dating, and why she wanted to find him. All of them said it would appear in their newspaper for a day or two, on the celebrity page. It would not, however, be front-page news.

              As the day wore on, Winter was growing tired and bored of media attention. Photographs had been taken of her sat in her blood stained designer dress, as this was probably what they were more interested in. Violet was snapping at reporters, thanking them for nothing, and Zach was always pushed to one side and completely ignored.

              The last newspaper reporters of the day arrived. Winter was not happy to see it was David Herald, here to report for his newspaper Herald News. However, she did know that he would please Violet. The man had reported on Winter too many times to let this story not be front-page news.

              He arrived with five photographers, six camera men, three sound recorders, two lighting operators and a second female reporter Winter had seen at red carpet events.

              They climbed in through the flap in the side of the building, grumbling about the less than glamorous entrance. They saw Winter, sat on the sofa with a bandaged foot in the middle of the room, and looked stunned.

              “Oh, you poor girl,” the woman said. She wore a dress that emphasised her boobs, and Winter couldn’t help think it was all for David. She smirked. She had heard David was gay. “Quick, set up the cameras.”