David Moody - Autumn

‘No, I just studied there.’

‘Did you like it?’

‘It was okay.’

‘Just okay?’

‘Yes, it was okay.’

‘I liked it. All right so it had it’s fair share of penthouses and it’s fair share of shit-holes but everywhere does. It was home.’

‘I much prefer being out in a place like this. Not at the moment, of course, but before all this happened I was always happier out in the country away from the noise and the concrete and the people.’

‘And me. I used to try and get away as often as I could. I’d just get in the car and drive for a couple of hours and see where I ended up. I’d go and lie down in a field or walk along a river or something…’

‘Didn’t go fishing did you?’

‘No, why?’

‘Because I hate fishing. It’s a bloody barbaric sport.’

‘Bloody boring sport.’

‘I used to camp. I’d pack a rucksack and a tent and catch a lift to somewhere remote.’

‘And then what would you do.’

‘Nothing.’

‘Emma, do you miss the television?'

‘I miss the noise and normality of it, but not much else.’

‘I miss the weather.’

‘The weather?’

‘I never realised how much I relied on weather forecasts until now. I really miss knowing what the weather’s going to do next.’

‘Doesn’t matter anymore though, does it?’

‘Suppose not. It didn’t really matter anyway but I still want to know.’

‘Just looking at the telly switched off reminds me of everything that’s gone now.’

‘Did you used to watch a lot of films?’

‘I used to watch more films than anything else.’

‘And I bet you never really listened to the radio.’

‘No, not very often. Why?’

‘I’ve got this theory that people who watched a lot of films and who didn’t listen to the radio always had strong personalities.’

‘How do you work that out?’

‘Because you’re the kind of person who knows what you want if you don’t listen to the radio. If you listen to the radio you have to sit through hours of crap music, crap adverts and pointless conversations just to get to hear to a couple of minutes of something you like.’

‘I suppose. I’m not convinced though.’

‘I never listened to the radio, not even in the car. I was always a CD or cassette man. You always knew where you were with a cassette.’

‘So how’s this all going to end, Em?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t know. Are things ever going to sort themselves out?’

‘I doubt it. Bloody stupid question really.’

‘I know, sorry.’

‘I think it’ll get worse before it gets any better.’

‘Think so? Shit, how could it get any worse?’

‘Disease. There are millions of bodies lying rotting in the streets, aren’t there?’

‘What about insects then?’

‘What about them?’

‘Rotting bodies and more disease is going to mean more insects, isn’t it?’

‘It might do. Probably.’

‘And rats. There are going to be fucking hundreds of rats about in the cities.’

‘Emma, is there anybody you can think of that you’re glad is dead?’

‘Bloody hell, what kind of a question is that?’

‘Come on, be honest. Is there anyone out of all the people you knew who you’re actually glad is dead?’

‘No. Christ, you’re sick at times.’

‘No I’m not, I just don’t bother with bullshit. There were a few people in my life who I’m happy aren’t about anymore.’

‘Like who?’

‘I worked with a bloke who was a complete bastard. He had a wife who just doted on him. She’d have done absolutely anything to make him happy. She had two part-time jobs as well as looking after three kids.’

‘And what did he do?’

‘Nothing. Absolutely bloody nothing. He was qualified and everything, just couldn’t be bothered to get off his backside and do anything with his life.’

‘So why did you want him dead? What did he ever do to you?’

‘I didn’t say I wanted him dead. He didn’t do anything to me.’

‘So why did you hate him?’

‘I didn’t say I hated him. He used to be quite a laugh actually.’

‘So why are you happy he’s dead?’

‘Don’t know really. He just always pissed me off. Suppose it was because I couldn’t be that way. He was just a waste of space. He didn’t add anything to his family, he just took from them. It never seemed right.’

‘Do you think you would have got married?’

‘Don’t know. Probably. I would have liked to have settled down and had a family eventually.’

‘So did you ever get close?’

‘No. I always thought I’d know instantly when I met the woman I was going to marry, but it never happened.’

‘I got engaged when I was eighteen.’

‘How old are you now? Christ, I can’t believe I’ve never asked your age before.’

‘I’m twenty-three.’

‘So why didn’t it work out?’

‘Because I was left doing all the work while he sat on his backside, same as your mate and his wife. Jesus, he broke my heart. I would have done just about anything for him but he wasn’t prepared to do anything for me.’

‘So you must be glad that he’s not around?’

‘Not really. Actually I still miss him.’

Another hour and the virtually constant stream of questions, revelations and personal admissions had all but dried up. By three o’clock the two of them were sprawled out together on the rug in front of what remained of the fire, relaxing in the fading warmth of the lightly glowing embers. Michael woke up when Emma shuffled in her sleep and snored. In turn his sudden startled movements woke her.

‘You okay?’ he asked as he untangled himself from her legs. Their bodies had become innocently twisted together in the night.

‘I’m all right,’ she mumbled, her words dulled with sleep.

Michael dragged himself up onto all fours and shuffled round until he was in a similar position to Emma. Exhausted, he collapsed back down next to her. He instinctively reached out and put his arms around her body, holding her tightly and subconsciously shielding and protecting her from anything that might happen in the remaining dark hours of the night.

By three-thirty Carl was fast approaching the outskirts of the city of Northwich. He had driven at an increasingly cautious speed – as his journey had progressed, so his fatigue had mounted. As his tiredness had climbed towards dangerous levels he had been forced to concentrate even harder, and that extra concentration quickly drained his already severely depleted reserves of energy and determination.

As the dark shadows of the once familiar city engulfed him, his heart began to pound in his chest with more and more force and confusing, conflicting emotions constantly raged through his tired brain. Although part of him felt comforted and reassured that the journey was almost at an end, at the same time he was filled with cold dread and trepidation at the thought of what might be waiting for him in the desolate streets of Northwich.

Everything looked depressingly featureless and similar in the low light of early morning. It took a while before Carl was completely sure that the greenery of the countryside had finally given way to the harsh plastic and concrete of the decaying city. The lack of any illumination surprised and disorientated him. For some stupid reason he had half-expected to find some kind of light in the town. As it was the visibility in the city proved to be exactly the same as it had been out in the country. It was only the shapes of the grey shadows which surrounded him that had changed.

He slowed the bike to the lowest speed he dared travel at and looked desperately from side to side, hoping he would see something he recognised that would point him in the right direction. He knew the city like the back of his hand but tonight he couldn’t see anything resembling a familiar landmark. Despite having reduced his speed he still drove past the road signs far too quickly to be able to read any of them. Most were covered with a layer of grime and what appeared to be lichen or moss.