Paul Grzegorzek - Flare

I smiled and shrugged. “Easy. Skinny lattes with vanilla. Melody, how about you?”

She said nothing for a moment and I looked back to see tears tracking their way down her cheeks.

“My mum,” she said quietly, “I miss my mum most.”

For the next hour, we travelled in silence.

We’d just passed the turnoff for Romford when I spotted something moving to the side of the road some way ahead.

“Do you see that?” I pointed towards it, unsure through the driving rain what it might be.

“What the hell?” Emily peered through the windscreen.

“Are they people ?” Melody asked as she leaned over my shoulder to get a better look.

As we drew closer I saw that they were indeed people, hundreds of them walking in a huddle across a field to the side of the road, while dozens appeared to be harnessed to the front of trucks that were being pulled with much difficulty through the wet mud towards the motorway.

As we drove closer, more and more people appeared over the brow of the hill, those at the rear trudging in the churned-up much of those at the front.

“Where are they coming from?” Melody asked me, but I could only shrug.

“No idea, but we want to get past before they reach the road. I don’t like our chances if they get in front of us.”

Even as I spoke, those at the front of the mass were pointing at us, some waving their arms while others began to run clumsily through the mud towards the motorway.

I watched in amazement as yet more people came over the hill, thousands of weary travellers carrying loads on their backs as they walked, or pulling trucks and trailers piled high with belongings.

“Can we go any faster?” I asked Emily, and the engine strained as she put her foot to the floor, the speedo creaking up to a hairsbreadth over seventy and vibrating as if caught in a gale.

“That’s all we’ve got,” she said, eyes fixed on the road ahead to spot the abandoned cars that flashed out of the rain with almost no warning. “Melody, sit down and put your seatbelt on please.”

Melody did as she was told and I reached for my own seatbelt, pulling it across and clicking it in place.

“Take this,” Emily said, passing me the pistol with one hand, “but don’t use it unless you have to, there’s only twelve rounds in it.”

I took it awkwardly, the grip cold in my hand.

“Do you think it’ll come to that?”

“I don’t know, but better it doesn’t and you’re ready than the other way around.”

The front edge of the crowd had reached the hard shoulder now, men, women and a few children running out into the road as if they could stop us with sheer weight of numbers. I could see their faces now, hungry, desperate, eager for whatever we might have, including our car.

I wound the window down with a shaking hand and raised the pistol, hoping those closest to us would see it and pull back, but they kept coming.

Emily pulled into the outside lane, as close to the central reservation as she dared, her wing mirror mere centimetres away from the concrete barrier. Even then it seemed as though it wouldn’t be enough as hundreds of people spilled out onto the road, some shouting while others just ran at us.

I spared a glance for Melody, strapped into her seat but nose pressed up against the glass, staring into the eyes of those that would take everything she had without stopping to think, and I swore that that would never happen.

Raising the pistol, I aimed at a man who was running at an angle, trying to get in front of us, and pulled the trigger.

The boom was shockingly loud inside the car, smoke filling the air with the stench of cordite. The man I’d fired at dropped, but then got to his feet again and checked himself with both hands, patting his body up and down with a look of relief on his face.

Then we were past, pulling away from the leading edge of the crowd as we thundered along the motorway. I flicked the safety back on and dropped the pistol into my lap, then closed the window again, my face and arm soaked by the driving rain.

“Are we clear?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” I said shakily, “what the hell was that about?”

“They’re desperate,” she said, “Did you not see how thin they were?”

It hadn’t registered at the time, but now I realised that they had all been gaunt, underfed, half-dead on their feet. I could only imagine how much sorely-needed energy they had expended trying to stop us, some willing to risk death just to get at whatever we might have with us.

“How in hell did it come to this?” I asked, more to myself than anyone else, but strangely it was Melody who answered.

“Mr Simms in history said that we were only three meals away from barbarism,” she said matter-of-factly, “even if Sally Higgins thought that was in France.”

I burst out laughing, a high-pitched, nervous giggle that made me sound like a naughty schoolgirl. That in turn made Emily laugh, and then Melody joined in, all of us roaring until we could barely breathe.

I knew that it was just a reaction to the adrenaline, a salve for the fear, but even so it felt good, and it was several minutes before I got my giggling back under control.

“Melody,” I said, turning to smile at her, “did I ever tell you that I love you.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m very loveable.”

“Yeah, not to mention modest, eh?”

She nodded solemnly. “I get that from my dad.”

“Hang on a minute, I thought you got your brains from me, and your lack of modesty from your…” I stopped, seeing Melody’s face fall at the thought of her mother.

“I think,” Emily interrupted, “that we’re only about an hour away from home. Just think, tea, bacon and warm beds!”

I could have kissed her right there for giving me a way out.

“Now when we get there, Melody, I need you to be on best behaviour, ok? We’ll be living with them for a while, so let’s make a good first impression.”

Melody nodded, as grateful as I was for the reprieve.

“Dad, how did you meet them?”

“Well,” I said, wondering how to edit the tale for young ears, “it’s a long story.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said mischievously. “And if it’s too long then I’ll just fall asleep anyway.”

“Fine,” I said, pretending to be offended but secretly pleased to be able to distract her from what we’d just seen, “then sit back and let me regale you with the tale of how a humble astrophysicist and a mature yet good looking journalist came to rescue the fair daughter of a grumpy old troll and his oh-so-patient wife.”

And so I began the story, while the miles rolled past and we drew ever closer to home.

The last few miles were startlingly familiar while at the same time feeling like a distant memory.

As the road we were on crossed over the top of the M23 and brought us down past the slip road Jerry had taken when the plane blocked our path, I began to feel excited, like a child seeing grandparents he knew would spoil him after being away for months.

“I wonder if we could get a shower rigged up,” I said as Emily navigated the narrow lanes. “Maybe get a tank on the roof, or set something up in the yard maybe?”

She shrugged. “I don’t see why not. The showers we had in some of the forward camps were relatively simple. As long as you’ve got a metal tank and you can heat it, the rest is easy.”

“What’s a forward camp?” Melody asked from the back seat.

“It’s from when I was in Afghanistan, with the army. We had a couple of big camps, like fortresses with lots of buildings, and then we had smaller camps that were closer to the fighting.”