The teenage boy puffed out his cheeks. ‘That’s what I was gonna ask you. What was going on yesterday? Sorry if I’ve got it wrong, but it just seems like you’ve been trying to avoid me...’

  ‘What? No...’ Sarah replied, stuttering slightly. ‘Everything’s fine. I’ve just been really busy studying and stuff...’ Her voiced trailed away as she reached across to turn on the radio.

  ‘Hang on a sec’ said Chris, turning in his seat to face her. ‘Look Sarah, I really like you but I’m a bit confused. Are we still good?’

  Sarah stared at him for a moment and then her face began to crumple. Tears formed in her eyes and her chin trembled. ‘I’m so sorry’ she said.

  Chris gulped and turned away to stare blankly out of the windscreen. His chest ached, as if a tremendous weight was crushing the breath from his lungs.

  ‘You are such a nice guy’ she said, ‘I feel so bad.’

  The comment was like a dagger to his heart and in that instant Chris knew everything. Sarah had recently made new friends at college; her Facebook updates had told him that, and among them were two young lads. One of them was very obviously gay but the other was just Sarah’s type; tall, dark, athletic, everything that Chris was not. What was his name? Danny something...

  ‘It just happened’ she stammered. ‘I don’t know, it’s like we had some sort of connection or something...’

  Chris shook his head and gripped the steering wheel. ‘Oh, puh-lease...’

  The girl choked back her tears and reached for the handle of the door. ‘I’m sorry’ she said. ‘Look, I’ll just get the bus...’

  Chris sighed. ‘No. It’s okay.’ He paused for a moment, nervously chewing the inside of his cheek. ‘It’s okay. If you get the bus you’ll be late. Look, I’ll drop you off...’

  Sarah looked at him again and placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘You don’t have to. I...really am sorry, Chris.’

  The boy nodded with a sniff and turned the key in the ignition. ‘It’s okay. Really. My mates always said I was punching above my weight. Turns out they were right.’

  Sarah quietly attached her seatbelt as the car pulled away and Chris relaxed back into his seat. His mates were right; Sarah Janson was certainly eye-candy but she was also most definitely ‘high maintenance’ as well. Most of his meagre wages had been spent on dates with her as well as on a considerable amount of gifts. Low on confidence (especially with girls) Chris had used material things to win her over but now it seemed that approach had failed. Now he would have to suffer the ignominy of admitting to his friends that they were right all along.

  Reaching the end of the road they turned left, joining a steady stream of Monday morning traffic. The journey might only be a short one but there was no way Chris would be able to do it in silence and small-talk was definitely out of the question. His hand drifted to the radio and as he pressed the ‘on’ button a strange thing happened:

  A wall of white noise crackled through the speakers, prompting him to click through other stations with the same result. Sarah’s brow creased as she glanced across at him and then turned to look out of the windscreen and up at the sky.

  ‘What the-‘

  At that exact moment something hit the windscreen, cobwebbing the glass and dashing blood all over it. Sarah screamed as the car screeched, swerving for a split-second before Chris was able to regain control. Swearing at the top of his voice he looked around the gory object and pulled sharply over to the side of the road. As the car skidded to a halt he looked across at the shocked girl, gasping: ‘You okay?’

  Sarah nodded frantically, staring wide-eyed at the damaged windscreen. The quivering remains of a large bird, all feathers and guts and blood, were smeared over the cracked glass.

  Chris gulped before checking his wing mirror and then gently opened his door. Rushing traffic continued to pass by on his right as he slid out of the car and moved cautiously around to the front.

  Now little more than a mangled mess, the bird appeared to at one time have been some kind of gull. Chris could make out a yellow beak and beady eyes among the gore, and he watched as those very eyes glazed over completely in death. Then a cacophony of beeping horns drew his attention elsewhere and he stared skyward, unable to believe what he was seeing.

  Birds were dropping from the sky in their hundreds, pelting both the ground and cars below. Vehicles were swerving to try and avoid them but instead collided with others or careened onto the pavement. A handful of pedestrians, running for shelter, were waving their arms wildly above their screaming heads as the dead birds rained down.

  Bewildered, Chris swept the remains of the gull from the windscreen and leaped back into the car as the chaos continued all around him.

  ‘We have to get out of here!’ he yelled, turning the key in the ignition. Unable to say a word, Sarah sank back in her seat, her trembling hands balled into white-knuckled fists.

  ~ 4 ~

  Katie Reilly, eyes-wide and terrified, searched her husband’s face for a trace of consciousness. A low groan escaped his mouth and his eyelids flickered and slowly opened. She gasped in relief, her chin quivering as she looked up at the youth looming over them.

  ‘You fucking animal’ she hissed, teeth clenched, eyes blazing with rage.

  ‘What did you call me, you stupid bitch?’

  Katie shook her head angrily and turned her attention back to her husband, gently supporting his head as awareness slowly returned to him. ‘Ben, can you hear me? Are you okay?’

  He blinked, mumbled something and gave a pained nod. Slowly he sat up, grimacing while putting a hand to the swollen bridge of his nose.

  Katie looked back up at the one called Gaz, who had turned away to face the other two members of his gang. They were grinning admiringly at him as he paraded in front of them, arms held out in triumph like a champion prize-fighter, the spliff drooping from the corner of his mouth. Anger overpowering her fear, Katie glanced next at the younger lad and then the girl. The girl was sniggering as she held up her mobile phone, recording every detail.

  For Katie Reilly, that was the final insult.

  She sprang up from the floor, throwing herself toward the emergency brake cord just as Gaz began to turn around. He instinctively grabbed her trailing hair, yanking her back before she could reach it. She opened her mouth to scream but the cries were instantly muffled by grimy, nicotine-stained fingers. Katie bit down, feeling her teeth sink through flesh and into bone, bringing forth a howl of agony. Snarling with rage, Gaz swung her around and into the side of the carriage. She met the wall with a sickening crunch and slid slowly to her knees, head lolling drunkenly to one side.

  Dazed, she was dimly aware of bloodied hands pawing at her again, hoisting her up and pushing her against the side of the moving carriage. Through a blurry haze she sought the emergency cord once more, seeing it frustratingly out of reach. She just made out the words ‘penalty for improper use’ before realising that the youth’s hands were inside her torn blouse, fumbling over her breasts.

  ‘No...’ she mumbled as all the sounds around her jumbled together; the rhythmic sound of clunking train tracks, the explicit cursing of her attacker, the background sniggering of the other teenagers.

  Breathing hard in her ear, the one called Gaz pressed his body against hers and reached around to unbutton her jeans. Eyes moist with tears and with the all the fight knocked out of her, Katie Reilly prayed it would soon be over.

  At that point, fate, and Ben Reilly, intervened.

  All of a sudden Gaz Selby’s hands were ripped away and Katie dropped to the floor. She heard Ben yelling and looked up to see him laying into the youth as if his life depended on it. One punch after another rained down like the sails of a windmill, leaving no time for the teenager to recover before another blow landed.

  Ben, eyes blazing and with angry spittle foaming at the corner of his mouth, threw everything into every punch. This attack was for every person that had ever bullied him, every person that had ever lied to him or pissed him off in any way. Unrelenting, he swung with his left and his right, ignoring the stinging pain in his fists, not letting up even when the teenager slipped to the floor and offered no more resistance. Finally, when his arms ached from fatigue, Ben launched a kick at the prone body, followed by another. Then another and another until with a final rage-filled swing of his boot he kicked the battered body of Gaz Selby over onto its back.

  Dizzy and gasping for breath, Ben glared through a red haze at the other teenagers and staggered toward them. Suddenly shorn of all bravado they withdrew, falling back clumsily into their seats. The girl recoiled, throwing her hands up in fear as Ben grabbed the youngest lad by his collar and hauled him up. Drawing back his right hand the older man made a fist. Consumed with rage, he scowled into the youth’s pleading face.

  ‘Laugh now, you little shit.’

  Time stood still as Ben searched the teenager’s watery eyes for a hint of contempt; a trigger for him to act. Seconds passed, until the only sound was the continual click-clacking of the train on the tracks. Ben’s arm remained drawn back, the angry punch waiting to be thrown. And then a sudden look of realisation flashed across his face. This was a child. A horrible child, yes; but a child nonetheless.

  Slowly, he released his grip on the collar and lowered his wavering fist, allowing the whimpering boy to shrink back into his seat.

  ‘Fucking loser’ said the girl, her voice quivering in fear. The insult was delivered weakly, no conviction behind it, and Ben paid her no mind as he turned to help his wife back up.

  Katie fell gasping into his arms. On the floor by her feet rolled the personal contents of her handbag, including a mobile phone shattered by the stamp of an angry heel. Wiping her eyes, she shuddered and looked past her husband to the beaten body of Gaz Selby. Strangely numb, Katie Reilly found that she was neither frightened nor relieved to see that he was still breathing.

  At that moment the teenage girl stood up, pointing at Ben with her chin. ‘You’ve fucking had it’ she sneered. ‘You nearly killed him. I’m calling the police.’

  Exhausted, Ben slipped from Katie’s embrace and leaned back against the door of the carriage, the possible consequences of his actions just beginning to sink in. Katie moved past him, her shocked expression now replaced with a look of grim determination.

  All of a sudden she reached out and snatched the phone from the girl’s hand, taking her completely by surprise. Before the teenager could utter a word Katie slapped an open palm loudly across her face, knocking the girl back into her seat with a stunned yelp.

  ‘You were filming what happened’ Katie scowled, staring at the small display screen. ‘I’ll take this. Then we’ll see who says what...’

  The girl, dismayed, put a hand to her reddening cheek. Tears welled in her eyes and her mascara began to run. For all her former bluster she was speechless; a child once more.

  Katie began to dial a number on the phone, pressing a second ‘9’ before noticing the now familiar ‘no service’ message. Swearing under her breath she slipped the phone into her pocket and turned toward Ben. He was still breathing heavily and holding onto one of the vertical metal poles for support. Katie opened her mouth to speak but at that exact moment the train began to judder violently, shaking with such force that they almost lost their footing.

  Ben immediately grabbed her, wrapping her protectively in his arms. ‘Someone must have pulled the cord!’

  As soon as he had said it Ben knew that was not the case. His eyes snapped to the youngest teenager who was staring in horror out of the rattling window. Ben followed his gaze outside. The sky was full of hundreds of large black missiles, vapour trails criss-crossing each other as they headed earthbound. The boy, a waste of skin called Darren Selby, began to shake his head as the girl planted her hands over her ears and rocked back and forth, sobbing.

  Ben pulled Katie close and stared deeply into her eyes. ‘Get ready’ he said, while reaching out to grab the nearest vertical pole. ‘Hold on to me. I love you, babe.’

  And then the train lurched over to one side, screams ringing out amid showers of flashing sparks and the deafening crash of rending metal.

  ~ 5 ~

  Ian Corrigan was sitting by the window of a busy coffee shop in Marble Arch when the first wave hit London. He was staring into space, chewing on a ridiculously expensive flapjack that was probably delicious even though he’d not tasted a single morsel of it. His mind was elsewhere.

  Summoned to an 11am meeting, he had already decided that the subject would be all about his poor sales figures. Now however, after a rare moment of clarity, a more obvious reason sprang to mind. Perhaps - just perhaps - it was also to discuss the matter of missing company funds.

  Corrigan cursed himself. Of course that’s what it was about. He’d been greedy. Greedy and careless; it was as simple as that. The fact was that the amount of cash he had ‘misappropriated’ was always going to get noticed, the trail of suspicion always bound to lead to him.

  Christ, he thought, where had it all gone wrong?

  Biting his lip, Corrigan was pretty sure that knew the answer to that question too. At one time manageable, his coke addiction had been out of control for a while now. He had been using much more of it far more often and that was in addition to his increased gambling and drinking habits. And as for those hookers - well they were just too damn pricey to begin with!

  As he sat there in his crumpled suit, vacantly watching the world go by, Corrigan tried to think ahead. He would be sacked, that much was for certain. The big question was how much further it would go after that. His heart skipped a beat. Fuck - was he looking at a jail term? Maybe so. Almost definitely, if that weasel Rhodes had anything to do with it.

  Corrigan closed his eyes for a moment and gritted his teeth. He couldn’t put it off any longer; it was time to face the music. He had enjoyed dining at the top table for a while but now his greed had finally caught up with him. ‘Show some balls’ he muttered, wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers before hurriedly exiting the shop. Appearances didn’t matter anymore; even the most immaculate Italian suit wouldn’t save him now.

  Once out on the street it took a few seconds for his mind to react to a throng of pedestrians blocking the pavement.

  Just what the hell was up with them?

  They had stopped their daily migration and were staring into the sky, pointing upwards while cupping hands to their open mouths. Some had reached for their mobile phones, either dialling desperately or trying to record whatever the hell it was they were looking at. By the time Ian Corrigan had woken up enough to follow their gaze and hear their panicked cries he was in the last minute of his life. At that moment the spectre of his imminent dismissal became insignificant.

  The first detonation, enough to burst the eardrums of those nearest to it, came three hundred feet above New Oxford Street. It blew the top five floors from the tallest buildings and hurled down masonry and bodies like toys thrown by a petulant child. The sky was filled with screaming figures, arms and legs kicking frantically as they raced each other to the pavement.

  People on the street scattered as the plummeting bodies landed among them, bones crunching and blood spattering on impact. Some of the pedestrians tried to run, some scrambling into shop doorways while others stumbled down packed stairwells. Pinned against the door of the coffee shop by a screaming horde, Ian Corrigan heard a sound above the chaos; the sound of multiple sirens.

  It was happening, but he still couldn’t believe it.

  London was under attack.

  The former broker looked straight up at the sky. The street was in shadow, the sun blocked by fourteen tons of masonry on its way down to the ground. Corrigan took a deep breath and braced for impact as a young girl in front of him screamed for her lost mother.

  And then he closed his eyes for the last time.

  Danielle Sanderson, a twenty-two year old student from Southwark, was halfway across the pedestrian walkway of Tower Bridge when she met her end.

  She had been running late (not for the first time), and was due to meet a school friend for a morning’s shopping in the West End. She hadn’t seen Hayley for a few weeks, not since they’d had crossed words at a party, and this was their first real opportunity to clear the air with some retail therapy. It was enough of a reason to bunk off college for the day; after all, friends were much more important, right?

  Moving along with the snaking crowd, Danielle responded to a text beep from her phone and steeled herself for the message. Sure enough, it was from Hayley.

  ‘I’m here. Where the fuck are you????’ it read, each additional question mark a clear indicator as to the level of annoyance.

  Danielle paused, moving toward the handrail as the shoal of people continued to file past. She brushed the still shower-wet hair away from her forehead and pressed the dial button on her phone, biting her lip in preparation for the barrage of abuse that would inevitably come her way.

  The phone clicked and rang twice in her ear before a stern voice answered: ‘Where are you?’

  ‘So sorry Hay, I’m on my way. I’ll be about ten minutes. I tried to call earlier but I couldn’t get a signal.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Dani. Really? Okay, just get here as qui-‘

  The voice at the end of the phone disappeared in mid-sentence, replaced by three high-pitched beeps and then silence. Danielle looked at the handset. Had Hayley been disconnected or just put the phone down?

  A small oblong box appeared, proclaiming ‘no service’. Danielle swore under her breath and pushed away from the handrail, rejoining the moving stream of people.

  Suddenly, a dull boom sounded off somewhere west of the river and a plume of angry smoke rose up from the horizon. People rushed toward the sides of the walkway, staring out at a mass of falling black objects that were filling the sky. Danielle was speechless as she looked into faces equally as horrified as hers and then felt another surge of people jostling from behind. She fell forward onto her knees, at first holding onto her phone but then having it knocked from her grasp. Kicked this way and that, it clattered along the ground and was lost from view.

 

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