Surviving the Fall: How England Died by Stephen Cross Read Free Book Online

away from the madness.
    “Oi, Mac, another pint please!”
    Mac nodded to Gaz, “Coming up.”
    Gaz and Johnny were his only customers tonight. Two die hards that made their way to the pub no matter the weather, nor the state of their health or finances. A young couple with a daughter had been in earlier, on their way to Cornwall, but they left straight after dinner. It was a quiet night alright.
    “Hey Mac, mind if I light up?” said Johnny.
    It was nearing eleven. Mac couldn’t imagine any new customers, never mind someone causing trouble over an old fella having a smoke inside. Not on a night like this, with everything that was happening.
    “Sure, Johnny, knock yourself out.”
    Johnny nodded his thanks and lit up his thin and bent hand-rolled cigarette.
    Gaz sipped on his pint, looking thoughtful. “This virus, then, Mac. Sounds like one of them flesh eaters. What do you think?”
    “I don’t know Gaz, I’m no doctor.”
    “Nah, sure, but from what they say on the news, and them pictures on the internet…”
    “Can’t ever be sure what you see on the internet. Could be kids with a make up kit for all I know. Probably is.” Mac poured himself a small whiskey.
    “Ok, but if it is one of them flesh eaters,” continued the young man, “it must be eating the brain too, driving everyone crazy. I mean, I’ve seen it on the news, and it looks real enough - they had that one video where you saw that fella biting another fella.”
    Johnny nodded, “Aye. Haven’t seen that video again though.” Smoke billowed around his head as he spoke.
    “It’s being covered up I reckon.” Gaz took a sip from his pint. “You have to be pretty mad to eat someone, don’t you?”
    Mac nodded his head, “Definitely something wrong with you if you have to eat someone.” He noted the fire was down to embers, it was getting late. Probably a good time to check on Angie. “You fellas alright for a minute? Give a shout if anyone comes in.”
    He went over and poked the fire, then made his way upstairs. He walked past the B&B rooms and to his bedroom at the end of the dimly lit corridor. His wife was in bed, watching TV.
    “It’s getting worse,” said Angie.
    The TV news showed police and soldiers pushing back crowds of people in the darkness of London.
    “I thought I said it’s best not to watch that.”
    Angie waved him away. “What’s it matter. What happens, happens.”
    Mac sighed. “Ok love. Anyway, I thought you’d be up, I wondered if you wanted some water or anything?”
    She smiled at Mac, “That would be nice.”
    He fetched a glass of water from the sink in the en suite bathroom, and put it down on her bedside table. He moved her walking sticks out of the way and rested on the side of the bed, giving her a quick hug.
    “Oh, get off me, you big softy!” But she held on to him, tight. “Do you think we’ll be alright?”
    “I don’t know love,” he said. “We always have in the past.”
    “But this is different, Mac. Oh!” Angie let out a gasp.
    He followed her gaze to the television. The picture had gone, in its place static.
    “Mac…” Angie’s voice was high, filled with fear.
    “Ok. Probably just the signal…” He changed through the channels, but nothing, static on each one.
    “Mac, what’s happening?”
    He shook his head and stared at the screen, “I don’t know.”
    “Who’s downstairs?” asked Angie.
    “Just Gaz and Johnny.”
    “Can we close up?”
    He squeezed his wife’s hand and gave her a smile. “No problem. I’ll lock up. They can leave when they leave.”
    “Ok. Thanks.”
    He kissed her on the forehead and got up to go, “And turn that tele off.”
     
    Downstairs he found Gaz standing underneath the large TV that hung over the fire place. He was pointing the remote control at the TV.
    “Looks like your TV is dead, Mac. Must be the aerial.”
    Mac knew it wasn’t the aerial - he had cable.
    “I’m going to lock up fellas. You’re welcome to stay the night