Дэвид Муди - Hater

THE SITUATION IS UNDER CONTROL

28

It’s eleven o’clock and Lizzie, Harry and the kids are sitting in the living room. There’s something happening outside. The others haven’t noticed yet. I don’t want the children and Liz getting upset again so I haven’t said anything to anyone. It started about half an hour ago. I’ve heard heavy vehicles moving in the distance and the occasional scream or shout. I’ve also heard gunfire.

I’ve tried looking through every window in the flat but I can’t see what’s going on out there. I have to know. I make sure the others are all distracted then creep out of the apartment. I stop halfway across the lobby. Everything looks just as it did when I was out here yesterday but today the building feels different because of what’s upstairs. I stop at the bottom of the staircase and, just for a second, I think about turning round and going back into the flat again. I’ll get a better view from the flats on the other floors but I’m worried about going upstairs. I don’t think there’s anyone else up there — the car belonging to the people on the top floor is still missing and I can’t hear anything. But what about the body? I know the man on the landing is dead but have I got the balls to pass his corpse? My head is suddenly filled with stupid nightmare images of his lifeless hands reaching out to grab me. The sound of another gun shot in the distance spurs me into action. I take a deep breath and run up the stairs, not stopping until I’ve reached the flat on the top floor. I peer in through the half-open door to make sure it’s still empty then step inside.

There are only two floors between our flat and this one but the view from up here is completely different. Those extra few feet of height make all the difference and from here I can see for miles around. I can see almost all of our estate and I can see the city centre in the distance. This morning the world looks like the TV footage that gets sent home by war correspondents. The skyline is dark and grey. Dirty, thick smoke is climbing from the blackened shells of burnt-out buildings. There’s nothing much left of the medical centre on Colville Way. The streets are deserted.

How am I supposed to protect my family from this? I can sense the danger increasing almost by the second and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I think of the kids downstairs and I feel terrified and helpless. They’re depending on me and I don’t know what I can do to keep them safe.

I can see movement in the distance now. Can’t see exactly what it is from here. I turn around and grab the video camera I saw when I was up here yesterday. Christ knows what the men who lived here used it for. I’ve got no interest in finding out. I take the camera over to the window and switch it on. There’s hardly any battery power left. I find the zoom lens control and set it so that it’s focussed as far as possible into the distance. It takes me a few seconds to aim the camera in the right direction and to relocate the movement I’ve just seen.

I think I’m looking at the area around Marsh Way but I’m not sure. Whatever the name of the road I’m watching is, there are two large green-grey trucks driving along it. On either side of the trucks are lines of uniformed figures. Bloody hell, they’re armed soldiers wearing what looks like full battle gear. They have masks or visors obscuring their faces. The trucks stop mid-way along the street and the guards which surround them split into smaller groups. Some remain close to the back of the vehicles while others move towards the houses on either side of the road. From here I can only see one group of figures clearly but I guess they’re all doing the same thing. It looks like a house-to-house inspection.

The trooper at the front of the group hammers his fist on the door. Christ, they’re not waiting to be invited inside. Four of the soldiers in the group of five force their way into the house as soon as the door is opened. The fifth uniformed figure follows them inside carrying something. It’s difficult to keep the camera focussed from this distance and I can’t tell whether it’s a clipboard or one of those tablet computer things he’s holding. They all disappear into the building and I wait for them to re-emerge. And I wait. And I wait.

Elsewhere along the street the same thing is happening. Groups of soldiers are splintering away from the trucks and are checking each house in turn. I look up from the video camera viewfinder screen for a second and catch sight of more movement in another road nearby. Same thing’s happening again. I squint as the sun breaks through the heavy cloud for the first time today and I can see at least two more clusters of trucks and soldiers working their way along other streets, all within a few hundred meters radius of each other. I focus back on the house I was originally watching in Marsh Way as the five soldiers march back out and immediately turn their attention to the building next door, leaving a dazed and bewildered middle-aged couple to timidly close their front door behind them.

There are helicopters flying over the town. Strange. Maybe they’re coordinating the movements of the troops on the ground?

The soldiers I’ve been watching have forced their way into another house now. They reappear in less than a minute, this time dragging someone behind them. I can’t make out whether it’s a man or a woman but they’re kicking and punching and doing all they can to get away. I can see that it’s a woman now. She’s only half-dressed. They’ve turned her around and they’re marching her towards the nearest truck. She’s still fighting. As they push her towards the back of the vehicle she somehow manages to free herself from the soldiers’ hold. She starts to run down the road and… and now I can’t believe what I’m seeing. One of the soldiers steps forward and raises his rifle. Instead of chasing after her he simply shoots her in the back. Two of them pick up the fallen body and throw it unceremoniously into the back of one of the trucks.

They must finally be flushing out the Haters. Thank God for that.

It’s about time. I hope the bastards get everything they deserve.

29

It’s a relief knowing that someone finally appears to be taking control of the situation. The soldiers on the streets is the first indication we’ve had that the authorities are at last doing something to help us. I’m glad, but I’ll be happier when they’ve been and gone from here. I don’t say anything to the others. I don’t want the kids and Lizzie getting upset again.

My head is spinning. I’m finding it harder and harder to cope with being trapped inside the safe room with the rest of the family. This intense claustrophobia is killing me. We’ve been sat together for hours and hardly anyone has spoken apart from the children who fight and bicker constantly. I know they can’t help it but they’re really beginning to piss me off. Lizzie and Harry don’t seem bothered by them. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s the thought of the soldiers outside. I’m getting increasingly anxious sitting here waiting for the inevitable knock at the door.

I use going to the toilet as an excuse to get up and get out of the room. I close the living room door behind me and lean up against it, relieved. The atmosphere in there was oppressive and the air out here is much cooler and fresher. I stumble down the hallway and pause at the front door. Should I go upstairs and check the streets again? What if the army is here already? How would it look if I opened the door and ran head-first into one of those patrols? They might think I was a Hater. Would they give me any chance to explain before aiming their rifles at me?

I use the toilet then traipse towards Ed and Josh’s room. I climb up onto Ed’s bed like I did yesterday and stare out of the window for a while. I can’t see anything. If I ignore the bodies then everything looks quiet, still and relatively normal out there. It’s deceptive. Under the surface the whole world is tearing itself apart.