Winter Smith (Book 1): London's Burning (25 page)

              As people buzzed around setting up lights, cameras and microphones, David Herald sat next to Winter and took out a note pad. He smiled at her like she was an old friend.

              “Now, I’m just going to ask you a few questions. Nothing damaging. Just enough for people to hook on to,” he said, and Winter had no doubt that this story would be enough for people to hook on to. “And don’t worry. I’ll make you come across well.”

              The camera’s started rolling. The sound started to record, the lights were set on Winter and David, and Violet and Zach were ushered to the back of the room.

              “This is such an odd turn of events, but I am here with Winter Smith, daughter to Olivia and Nathan Smith, who, of course, are the biggest jewellery designers this earth has ever seen.” David addressed the camera, and Winter looked towards Violet, who looked slightly wary. They hadn’t been told this was for TV. Winter thought the TV channels had lost transmission.

              David turned to her with a sorrowful expression, aware that a camera was set up on him to capture his emotions. They were just as important as Winter’s, supposedly.

              “Now, Winter. You’ve had a rough time, haven’t you, in your young life?”

              There was no follow up, and Winter suddenly realised she was supposed to answer. Her eyes flickered to two cameras pointed at her. One no doubt taking in her whole appearance and the other capturing her emotions.

              “Uh, yes I guess I have.”

              David’s face flickered with the familiar features of annoyance. He had always thought Winter was a bad person to interview, and was always quick to point this out in his own interviews.

              “Why is it that now you want the media attention you so desperately try to avoid?”

              Winter swallowed. She could feel Violet looking at her. This was her chance to say what these people were here for.

              “My…boyfriend.” Was that right? Sure. It made the story more interesting. “My boyfriend has gone missing, and I
know
he’s alive…”

              “But how do you know this?” David pushed. “How can you be so sure?”

              “I know he wouldn’t give up…on me. He’d want to be with me, and he’d want to make sure other people are safe.”

              That was the wrong answer, and Winter knew it. She needed to compose herself, come across well.

              “So many people are dying. How can you be sure that Connor isn’t one of them?”

              “I just know he’s alive.”

              “It just isn’t likely any of us will be getting out of this place alive, is it? It’s even more unlikely that a lone, young boy like him will be looked over when there are ravaging beasts killing any human that moves. For all you know, Winter, he could be one of them.”

              So this was the direction David wanted the interview to go. He wanted to break Winter, make her cry, make her look weak. No doubt he would then turn this into another terrible heartbreak story which would make Winter spiral out of control.

              “And, of course, you’ve had a bad time at fourteen, haven’t you? How does this compare to what happened back then when your grandfather-”

              She zoned out of the conversation. She couldn’t talk about this. This wasn’t what the interview was about. She did feel tears come to the edge of her eyes, but she blinked them away. This was the last time she would let David break her. She wouldn’t let him think he had won. He would not ruin this for her.

              “This is my appeal to London city,” Winter said, looking straight at the camera that was filming her. She heard David break off. “My boyfriend, Connor Getty, has disappeared. Yet I know he is alive, and I need him here. He has lost his family, and I will not let him lose me, too. I will keep him safe, in memory of his family. Yet it’s not just me that has lost someone.”

              “Okay, Winter,” David tried to say.

              “It is not just me that has lost someone. There are people all over the world who are missing someone, who could still be alive.
Don’t
give up.” A flash from a camera. The crew looked panicked. Winter knew the signs. This was live streaming. They couldn’t stop her. Violet was grinning. “My appeal is that more is done to save those who are missing. We need to focus not on me, but on those who can’t leave their cities until they are reunited with those they have lost. Closure is what we need. I’m not Winter Smith, the drug fuelled girl who was set on ruining my parents’ lives. I never was that girl. I am Winter Smith, a girl born into the wrong lifestyle, and a girl who is just like you. Its cliché, but I’m in the same situation as everyone, and I may not get out of here alive. The government are not doing enough. We must save those we have lost.”

              “And that is all we have time for.” David Herald stepped in front of Winter so the camera was on him and only him. Winter was quickly ushered away from the sofa, and they covered her mouth as she screamed out at the pain in her ankle. Violet hurried over to Winter, but a woman tackled her to the ground. “Thanks for watching Herald Streaming. Remember, we will find Connor Getty, for Winter Smith.”

              Winter was dropped on the hard floor. Violet was still pinned down. David turned blazing eyes of fury on Winter and strode over to her.

              “You stupid, idiotic, bitch.” He hit her hard across the face. Winter felt blood leak from her nose. “Can’t you do anything right?”

              “I’m not being exploited, David,” Winter spat. She stood up, ignoring her protesting ankle. “You can’t make me look like I’m lowlife scum and get away with it anymore. You know why? Because no one cares, David. No one cares about this shit. People only care for their safety and their friends and family. For once, in your pathetic life, do something right.”

              David raised a fist to hit her again, but the sound of a gunshot echoed around the room. Winter saw the woman in the busty dress fall to the floor, and Zach stood across the room, holding the gun he had bought recently with shaking hands.

              “What the fuck has that greasy twat done?” David cried, running to the woman on the floor. She was crouched on the floor, clutching her arm. The wound didn’t look lethal.

              Zach turned the gun on the man pinning Violet to the floor. He jumped off her, moving away until the wall stopped him from moving anywhere else.

              “Don’t shoot, mate,” David said. “We’ll be going.”

              “You won’t be going anywhere until you make sure you get Winter’s message across,” Violet said. “You will include Connor’s name, a photo of him, and where we are right now. You will also promise that if you find Connor, you get him to appeal directly to us.”

              David looked like he would gladly hit Violet just as hard as he had Winter. Yet with a gun pointed at him, he wasn’t too confident.

              “Of course, that was what we were here for.”

              “Sure.” Violet shook her head. “Get out.”

              The reporters began to gather their things, but another gunshot made them jump. Zach had shot one of their cameras.

              “You won’t be carrying on with your live stream anymore, either,” Violet said. “Instead, you will make your channel an appeal to save those who are alive and lost.”

              David nodded, ushering the woman to stand up.

              He looked at Winter one last time, a hint of guilt on his face as she wiped blood away from her nose. Zach turned the gun on him and he hastily hurried down the steps.

              “Cancel all of the other bookings,” Violet said. “You were right, Winter. We’re not doing that.”

Chapter Twelve

              By mid afternoon the whole square outside knew about what had happened with Winter and the reporters. Winter had learnt that TV screens had been set up in TV city centres to broadcast updates on nearby locations, and somehow David Herald had secured his own TV channel to be broadcast every day for three hours.

              The interview with Winter had been seen by anyone who was alive and well. They had learnt about Connor and had heard her appeal for help finding other people who were lost.

              Some people thought she was ridiculous. Sitting by the window upstairs, she could clearly hear people discussing her as they walked by.

              “That was pretty selfish, I thought,” a woman was saying. “I think she’s just thinking of herself. I’ve lost my mother, but I don’t have TV stations helping me find her.”

              It was the same story throughout the day. Violet had been out to finally buy them new clothes, and she came back in a rising temper.

              “This bitch in the clothes shop was talking about you, Winter,” Violet growled. “She was saying how much of a spoilt brat you were, and that no one cares about Connor. She said he’s probably dead and the whole idea of appeals to find lost ones is just ridiculous. I fucking hit the bitch.”

              Winter knew that was to be expected. She had said to Violet herself that the whole idea just seemed awfully selfish. Yet Winter couldn’t help think that if so many other people had seen the report, there was a good chance Connor would have, too.

              “You know it’ll all blow over in a few days, anyway,” Zach consoled Winter. “There’ll be a story tomorrow and then nothing. There’s not a market there for celebrity news anymore.”

              Winter hoped Zach was telling the truth, but her previous experiences with the public told her otherwise.

              In the late evening, a lorry showed up out in the square to deliver stock. Winter spotted the driver unloading a big batch of tomorrow’s newspapers.

              “The papers are here,” Winter announced.

              She didn’t turn around to see who walked out of the building, but looking down in the square she saw Violet hurrying over. A few moments later Violet was returning with a newspaper in her hand and a bottle of something.

              “I got the newspaper,” Violet announced, climbing back up the stairs. “And I got a bottle of vodka, because we might need it.”

              “Really?” Zach asked. “They’re still selling alcohol?”

              “I think a lot of people need it, you know,” Winter said.

              “I hate it,” Zach grimaced. “I’ll never drink it.”

              “Pussy.” Violet scoffed.

              Violet handed Winter the paper, and neither of them were surprised to see Winter’s face on the front page.

              It was a photograph from the interview. Winter sat on the sofa, looking lost and afraid. Her designer dress looked even worse in photo, and Winter noticed how tired and grubby she looked.

              “If people don’t believe you’re in the same situation as them from that photo, they’re idiots.” Violet remarked. She was looking at the background, at the empty attic where they were staying.

              Winter flipped to the report – a three page spread – written, of course, by David Herald.

              “Read it out,” Zach said.

              Winter scanned for the first part of the story and read it over herself first, shaking her head at a few parts.

              “Winter, we know the truth,” Violet said. “Read it out.”

              Winter cleared her throat.

              “‘London City is under attack, but that doesn’t stop seventeen year old drunkard Winter Smith arranging media interviews so she can be reunited with her boyfriend,’” Winter read. “‘Seventeen year old Connor Getty, right, was in another world from Smith, serving coffee to members of the public while earning a minimum wage. Yet odd events brought the pair together when Connor arrived for a night of glamorous bliss at the socialite party of Nathaniel and Olivia Smith.’”

              Winter rolled her eyes. She hoped Violet and Zach were not judging her.

              “‘Of course, things did not go quite to plan, as you readers fully well know. The party was disrupted by the living dead, and many people lost their lives. Olivia and Nathaniel Smith being just two of the many who died that night.’”

              Winter felt her heart sink. Had David known her parents were dead? Had he meant to tell her? Or was this just him writing created lies, to add a bit of emotional depth to the story?

              “Go on,” Zach encouraged.

              “‘I caught up with Winter Smith in a small, never opened before Café just outside of Borehamwood. The young, lost girl was sat in a ruined designer dress from that fateful party night, and was sporting a broken ankle.’”

              “Twisted,” Violet said. Winter looked at her. “Well, it’s not broken is it? It’s twisted.”