Lee Kerr - Welcome to the Apocalypse

Hannah knows that she is on her own and that something has to happen. Now she can either stay at home or go back to the Andersons’ house to wait another day. She also had the third option, the only one that she hasn’t really given much thought to, mainly because it is unlikely to do any good. Even though Mrs Anderson had written down their details she had repeatedly told Hannah it would be pointless. The police would be a better option, she had said. Look how that turned out, Hannah thought. She hadn’t expected much, but had already tried the number and left messages. They are the grandparents we don’t really speak to, Mrs Anderson had said. On his side of the family and always been a bit weird. Not interested in us and certainly never helpful.

They didn’t see the children as their grandkids, apparently. It was his dad’s fault, she had said, her eyes rolling as the story unfolded. Since he had remarried, both he and his new wife had agreed that she was never really going to be a dutiful mother or grandmother. Mrs Anderson said that they never saw either of them, because his father had said that he had worked all his life for his two boys, and now he planned to see the world and achieve what he wanted. But since Mrs Anderson’s parents were all the way in America she probably felt that it was wise to leave a family phone number. She probably thought it was more likely to be used if they died while they were away – something serious, something like what is happening now.

They were listed as “Mr. and Mrs. Grump (grandparents, apparently)”.

Their entry was at the bottom of the page, after a couple of friends; almost an afterthought. She had tried the neighbours and these friends already but had got nothing but voicemails or permanently turned off mobiles. The ones she had managed to get hold of told her they had moved away, out of London, to somewhere safe in the country. ‘It’s coming your way,’ they would say. ‘Get out whilst you can.’

Hannah couldn’t have agreed more, but she felt such a loyalty to the kids, at least enough that she was determined to get them to their family, whether they were welcoming or not. She had done her duty, been the diligent carer, but now she had to think about the future.

Blake walks out of the bathroom. ‘Needed that,’ he says, giving her a kiss on the cheek. ‘And I even cleaned up because I know that bugs you.’ He pulls himself over Hannah, knocking her head as he moves, and then lies down beside her. ‘See, I can be an awesome boyfriend when you need me to be.’

She looks at him as she takes a deep breath. ‘That’s hardly awesome. Once past infancy it’s assumed that you are capable of cleaning up after yourself.’

He frowns; she knows he is getting annoyed. It’s the way he always behaves when she nags too much. He picks up the remote and looks at the television, still playing with his cock. His subconscious is teasing it, doing what she has obviously failed to do.

She picks this as her moment and curls up closer to him, stroking his chest. ‘Since you’re in the mood to be a dutiful boyfriend, could you perhaps do one more thing?’

He looks at her, his eyes unmoving, his mind unwilling to commit to anything that will take him away from the final level with Sammy tomorrow. ‘I’m not watching those kids. I’m not bloody doing it. I’ve told you to drop them at the cop shop and let’s both move on.’

‘I’ve said many times that you don’t have to mind the kids, but this is about them.’

He throws the remote down, his manhood shrinking by the second. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’

Hannah grabs his arm, squeezing it tight. ‘But it’s about moving them on. The police can’t help as there’s too much going on but I have another solution.’

‘And it involves me, doesn’t it?’

She takes a deep breath, ready for the inevitable sulk. ‘You and a car. Neil’s car, if you can get it?’

‘You want me to go all the way to Croydon? I need a lie-in tomorrow.’

‘Blake, every day is a lie-in for you.’

He shakes his head. ‘Neil ain’t gonna just lend me his car without some cash.’

She nods; that’s the least of her worries. ‘It’s fine, I’ll pay.’

‘And what you gonna do, anyway?’ he asks, his head already shaking, his mind already denying the possibility that he might need to leave this flat tomorrow.

She figures that she needs to explain her plan in a way that will mean as little work for him as possible. She wonders how she can possibly sell him on the idea of driving to North London to track down these kid’s disinterested grandparents, who will likely turn them away anyway, making it a wasted trip. Her thoughts turn to the help she needs, to Blake: he was almost sweet at school, but now he’s a total waste of space. Perhaps she is wrong: perhaps he was never that nice and she only imagined it. Either way, she knows he will eventually help but he won’t ever come quietly.

‘I’m getting really sick of this now,’ he says, taking his eyes off the road for just a second so he can look at her properly. ‘We’ve been driving for hours.’

She sighs, knowing this was a big mistake the moment he arrived with his brother’s car. He has given her nothing but grief since then: for taking too long, for the kids not being ready, and for the state of the traffic. It was all her fault – all of it – including the shit that was going on in Central London. Protests were happening everywhere about the lack of information from the government, and whenever the police intervened, riots ensued, then killings, followed by more protests.

She wonders if the reason for his latest outburst was that he hated asking someone else for the use of a car, that perhaps he was embarrassed to ask his brother who was three years younger. Maybe it makes him think about how little he has achieved with his life and perhaps surfaces some vague feelings of shame? And then Hannah wonders if perhaps she is expecting a little too much from Blake, considering his obviously limited depth.

‘I knew this would be a waste of time,’ he says, this time looking only forward.

‘Blake,’ she says, as calmly as she can, giving him time to register whatever she is about to say. ‘Please try to remember that the kids are in the car and we have only been driving for 2 hours. It’s really not that bad, so please stop moaning about something you agreed to do for your girlfriend who you live with and share a bed with every night.’

He shakes his head, silently refusing to accept any responsibility for the burden she has rested at his doorway. ‘Well, just you remember that Neil needs the car back by five and the traffic will be just as shit on the way back. You’ve seen how many roadblocks there were just getting here and we’ve got to go back through them all again.’

He continues to moan and Hannah continues to ignore him. She has said her bit; made her plea and found it has had no effect. She turns and pats both kids on the knee, one at a time. Poppy looks back at her with a longing stare, showing her need for only her mum. She looks set to burst into tears at any moment and Hannah knows this continual need to be validated and reassured is never going to go away.

Noah pushes Hannah’s hand off his knee. ‘I don’t need your help. I’m fine as I am.’

As much as she knows that isn’t true it almost makes her feel better; she has one less thing to worry about. Her whole week has been filled with anxiety and confusion and it doesn’t seem likely to stop now. A cloud of doom has been hanging above all of London, but Hannah feels it’s affecting her more than anyone else. She doubts this trip will make any difference – after all, the grandparents might not even be there. She doubts the kids will ever see their parents again, not with everything that is going on. All she knows is that she dreads the prospect of looking after these kids forever, never knowing where their parents are.