Chapter 5

Nick

14-12-2019

Nick sat on the hood of the abandoned car. The 33-year-old man stared numbly across the barren and empty street. It was something around noon. The thin layer of ice on the asphalt glistened in the sunlight.

‘Global warming my ass…’ Nick whispered to himself, as he inhaled the smoke of his cigarette. The nicotine gave him a little kick as the tobacco entered his lungs.

‘You hear me, Nick?’

Nick’s radio cracked. He took it off his belt.

‘Hey, Rory. What’s up?’

‘You’re on Oxford Street, right?’

‘Uhhh, yeah, why?’

‘Get underground, fast. You’re close to Oxford Circus.’

‘Why, what’s going on?’

‘Move. Quickly. Contact me when you get there.’

Nick shrugged. Rory had always been a bit weird, but he knew that when Rory was serious, the situation was serious. He got up from the hood of the car and wiped the cold humidity off his arse. He picked up his tactical crossbow from the ground with his left hand as he took a deep inhalation from his cigarette, before dropping the perfectly rolled tobacco to the frosty ground. Nick had gotten his crossbow as a 25th birthday present. He slung the weapon over his shoulder as he made his way down the wide street. He had a pouch with bolts on his belt.

He still remembered Oxford Street like it had been, only five years ago. A busy and buzzy street, with thousands of people on the sidewalks and cars and buses racing by on the asphalt. Now, it was empty. It was barren. Only the odd abandoned, rusty and broken car dotted the long and wide street. The grey asphalt had been broken up by the frosts of the winters before this one. In less than 2 weeks, it’d be Christmas.

Nick was dressed in thick layers of clothing, army pants and army boots. He had tight black leather gloves to warm his hands. He put his earplugs into his ears and turned on the music on his iPod. A few years ago, he would have been classified as a metal-head, due to his taste in music, long black hair, and clothing style. Now, he was classified as a survivor. Nothing more than that, and nothing less. The city was eerily quiet, especially in comparison to Nick’s memories. But then again, faded gunshots and screams did not top Nick’s music, even though he had it on soft. He was one of the few people who were able to listen to heavy metal while it was on soft. Most had to put it on louder, to “feel” the music.

Nick strolled calmly over Oxford Street. Even though Rory had had a serious tone to his voice, Nick knew that he was a man who exaggerated. He saw nothing interesting or peculiar on his way to the tube-station. He stared at the “Underground” board for a few seconds. Nick used to take the tube every day to his work. He’d pass this stop every morning and evening, as he took the Victoria line.

He took a hold of the cold metal railing of the stairs and descended into the station. The air became thick and colder, and a stench of death filled Nick’s nostrils. The disease was almost like the pest. As soon as the virus had descended from the sky and inserted itself into the populace, the transmission via air had started to become less and less effective. However, it was always best to burn the dead, as the pathogen lived off the dead cells of the corpses. Every corpse was, in that way, a transmitter of the virus.

However, this smell was the right one: the smell of burnt corpses, and not rotting ones. Nick walked down the icy steps. He held on tightly to the railing, in case he’d slip. He stopped on the steps, turned off his music and took the earplugs from his ears. He put the device and the plugs back into his pocket. Nick flicked the torch on his crossbow on. The ray of light drove away the thick darkness of underground. He proceeded further down the steps. When he reached the end of the stairs and the start of the large main hall, he unclicked his radio from his belt and spoke into it. He had expected the static of the line to have become a little louder due to the weakened connection, but it was quite the opposite. The static had become a little softer.

‘Rory, you there?’

After a few seconds, there was an answer. ‘Yeah mate, you’re underground at Ox Circus?’

‘Yeah, I’m there alright, but for a reason I don’t know. Listen, I want to know what’s going on…’

‘I saw a large group of heat signatures coming onto Oxford Street at Bond Street station. They’re making their way in your direction.’

‘What does it look like? Bandits? Looters?’

‘They’re spread out over the width of the street and some of them enter stores for a few minutes. I’d say looters.’

‘Looters are usually not well-armed, are they?’

‘No, they aren’t, but they are with many. I advise you not to take the risk on this one.’

‘And do what? Sit here in the stinking darkness?’ I’d much rather take the fresh air, thank you.’

‘Nick, don’t be such a fucki-’

Nick switched off his radio and turned around. All this walking for nothing. A pathetic waste of time and half a cigarette. Nick met Rory on the radio. He had never seen the man, and had no idea where he was. He just knew that Rory was his eyes in the city. This time, Rory had fucked up a little. They still had a few arguments on what Nick was capable of and what not, and this was definitely a thing he could handle. As he walked back up the stairs, he flicked the torch off again. When he put his foot on one of the steps, his boot slipped across the ice. Nick grabbed the railing as fast as he could. He found a grip again and let out a little sigh of relief. ‘Fuck me…’

He was glad to be out in the fresh air again. He had almost no phobias, and claustrophobia wasn’t a problem either, but the thick air and eerie darkness and silence of an empty tube-station was not a comfortable setting to find yourself in, nonetheless. The radio beeped, alerting Nick that Rory was speaking whilst the radio was off. He ignored it. Nick scanned the edges of the roofs of the high buildings which lined the street. He walked into the direction of Bond Street. There was a London bus on the side of the street. It has lost most of its colour, and the red had faded from the grey metal frame. Its windows were smashed to pieces and the door was wrenched open. A vantage point with cover, in Nick’s eyes. He went inside the bus. The inside was frozen no less than the outside, as there was practically nothing to stop the frost from entering.

The sidewalks were covered in rubbish bags and all sorts of scraps and waste. No-one would come to pick it up, but in the early stages of the outbreak, people would still need to dispose of their rubbish, so they just dumped it by their front doors. Nick looked over the street. He looked down at his crossbow. He started loading the weapon. He clicked the string of the bow tightly onto the tooth of the trigger. He took a bolt from his pouch. A distant shout echoed through the street. About 75 metres away, four men appeared from in between a few abandoned cars. They walked into the direction of Nick’s position. He slid the bolt into the shaft. 70 metres now. Nick was waiting for them to come into range. 65. 60. Slowly but surely, they came into the range of his line of fire. 55. Almost there now.

Three of the men suddenly took a turn and entered the stores. The fourth man stood still. It had become a little cloudy in the last 20 minutes, and it was just that bit too dark for Nick to see the man’s full appearance from this distance.

‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…’

The man was just out of range of Nick’s line of fire. If they hadn’t gone into the stores, he would have already finished them off by now. Nick did another quick scan of the roofs. Still nothing. The soft beeping sound alerted Nick again. He ignored it. Rory should stop complaining. Nick knew what he was doing. The man in the distance had some kind of stick in his hand. Probably a baseball bat or crowbar. The man looked around him. He stood on a little crossing. There were two narrow streets, and the man looked into both of them, before looking back into Nick’s direction. Nick sat there in the cover of the window frame.

Suddenly, a range of shouts sounded. Nick looked towards the entrance of one of the stores. Two of the men came out of the store with a woman, whom they held tightly. She screamed fiercely and punched one of the men in his face. The other man delivered a blow to her stomach. She groaned as the two men regained control and pulled her further towards the looter in the middle of the street. The third man came from the other store with nothing but his weapon, as far as Nick could see. They brought the woman down to her knees in front of the fourth man, whom Nick had been watching. He must be the leader of the group. The men were talking to each other with loud voices as a heated argument began over what to do with their captive.

The leader spoke, and all men nodded and mumbled in agreement. The woman cried as she was knelt on the floor. Nick rested the crossbow on the metal frame and aimed down the 1.4x scope, even though they were still out of range. The two men hauled the woman up on her feet and pushed her away from them, into Nick’s direction. The woman confusedly turned around to the four men. Two almost simultaneous cracks of gunfire sounded.

Nick gasped and looked from his scope. ‘Fuck!’ he whispered furiously to himself.

A red spray of blood erupted from the woman’s head and a chunk of flesh was ripped from her throat. Her body fell onto the frozen asphalt. These weren’t looters. They were bandits… Much bigger problem. One of the bandits walked over to the body, which started to leak blood over the ice. The man made his step as he went to stand over her body. Nick mercilessly pulled his trigger. The crossbow jolted, and the bolt was released with force. Due to the high buildings, there was no wind to alter the course of the bolt, and it hit its target perfectly. The metal spike penetrated the bandit’s ribcage. He dropped his gun and fell to his knees, before toppling onto the woman’s body. The two men grabbed their radios from their belts and ran away, into one of the narrow streets. The leader of the group stood still. He pointed his weapon towards the two bodies. A spray of liquid came from the weapon. A split-second later, the liquid erupted into bright flames.

The man spewed fire from his flamethrower, across the width of the street. In the light of the flames, Nick saw the man’s appearance through his scope. He was packed in thick fire-resistant clothing. His face was covered with a big, intimidating gas-mask. On his back, he carried two tanks of what was probably kerosene. The man was too far away for Nick to shoot him, and it seemed like he knew. He stood in a provoking pose. Nick was about to get up and leave, when he heard the roar of an engine.

A garbage truck pulled up behind the leader of the bandits. Two men hung on its side, and dropped themselves to the ground when it stopped. They had masks or filters on as well. More men came from behind the truck and out of the back as well. Another man with a flamethrower came in sight. There were two men with flamethrowers, six men with guns, and maybe one or two drivers of the truck. Nick had stopped breathing. The fire on the street started to die off as the kerosene went up in flames. Maybe 5 seconds before they could run across. Nick switched on his radio and got up from his position. He sprinted down the aisle of the bus.

‘Nick! Get out of there!’

‘Yeah, no shit!’

‘I fucking told you, imbecile! Oxford Circus! Now!’

Nick jumped onto the street and ran towards the entrance of the underground. Behind him, he heard the shouts of the men as they started to run after him. He almost slipped again as he went down the steps. He jumped into the darkness and landed safely on the tiles of the station floor. He switched on the torch as the thick air started to surround him again.

‘Oh, fuck, oh fuuuuck…’

‘Go to the North Bakerloo line, quickly!’ said Rory through the radio.

Nick reloaded his crossbow whilst he jogged towards the platform for North Bakerloo. He ran through a gate which had been broken open. Behind him, loud voices echoed through the empty station.

‘This way! Check the platforms! Kill the fucker!’

Footsteps sounded behind Nick. Flashes of light from behind sometimes came into his vision.

‘I think I see him! Get after him!’

Nick panted loudly as he reached the platform for Bakerloo North.

‘Now what, Rory!?’

‘Five seconds!’

‘I don’t fucking have five seconds!’

A large ray of light came from the tunnel. The roaring of a train sounded.

‘What the fuck?’

One of the bandits came onto the platform. Nick stood around the corner. As he turned to Nick, Nick released a bolt, which landed in his throat. A second bandit came onto the platform. As he too turned to Nick, Nick hit him on the jaw with the metal crossbow. He heard the bone crack and the man let out a distorted scream of pain. He fired three rounds as he accidentally pulled his trigger. The bullets were received by the concrete wall on the other side of the tube. The incredibly loud gunfire echoed through the station. Nick gave the man a powerful kick in his back, which threw him off his feet. The bandit tumbled off the platform and onto the rails. He let out a scream, which was cut off when he was sucked under the metal wheels of the large and heavy train, which came rolling into the station. Nick grabbed the gun of the man whom he had shot, and also jerked the bolt from his windpipe.

The doors of the train opened and Nick jumped in. With the gun in one hand and the crossbow in the other, Nick loosely fired a few rounds at the staircase which led to the platform. He hit one of the bandits who were coming down them in his legs. As the bones in his legs were crushed by the projectiles, the man screamed and tumbled down the stone steps. The other bandits shouted for him to lie still, but did not come down to get him. The recorded female voice gave the warning that the doors were closing. Nick fired another few rounds to supress his enemies, and the glass doors slid shut. Nick dropped his gun and lay down in the middle of the floor of the train. As the train came into motion, gunfire blasted and the glass windows were shattered. Nick covered his head. Then everything went back to silence. All there was to be heard was the rumbling of the train’s engine.

‘Nick? You okay?’

Nick grinned as he sat up. He wiped the tears of fear from his eyes.

‘Rory, you fucking hero…’