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

need that for?” asked Angie when he got back to the bedroom.
    “Just to be on the safe side. You know what people are like when their TVs aren’t working.” The joke fell flat. He could see the worry in Angie’s eyes.
    “You really think things here might go, well, like in London?” she said.
    Mac shook his head. “Not at all love, but you know me, still an old boy scout, best be prepared, dib dib dob.”
    “I’ll dib dob you…” She cuddled in next to Mac. He turned off the light and lay still, his worry keeping him awake. He couldn’t let Angie see him worried, scared even, but he was. He felt his heart beating fast and strong under his pyjamas. He reached his left hand down beside the bed and felt the cold metal of the crowbar. In reach. Good.
     
    Mac awoke with a start. Another bang on his door, and Gaz’s voice, high with panic calling his name. Mac grabbed the crowbar and jumped out of bed.
    “What is it?” shouted Angie.
    “It’s Gaz, don’t worry love, I’ll sort it out.”
    Mac opened the door and slipped out into the corridor, closing his bedroom door behind him. Gaz stood in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, his thin frame even more apparent without his usual baggy layers.
    “What the hell are you doing? It’s three in the bloody morning,” hissed Mac with a quick glance at his watch.
    Even in the darkness of the corridor, Gaz looked scared. “You have to come downstairs - someone is trying to get in.”
    “What?” Mac didn’t wait for any further explanation and charged downstairs.
    Johnny, still dressed, was leaning up against the front door. The only light was that of the optics from behind the bar. A half empty whiskey bottle sat on the bar - it looked like Johnny had been having himself a late night party.
    The front door rattled against the bolts and a muffled voice came from outside.
    “Who is it?” whispered Mac as he sneaked up beside Johnny.
    “Don’t know. I was having a few more drinks, and suddenly the door started banging. I ran up, woke Gaz, told him to get you - thought I should get back down here and guard the door, like. Sounds like a man and woman.”
    As if to confirm this, a woman’s voice from the other side of the door shouted, “Please, someone, open the door, my husband is injured, he’s been attacked.” The voice was that of a youngish woman, but it was shrill with fear, and punctuated by sobs.
    Mac motioned to Johnny and Gaz to stay by the door. He tread lightly to the bay of seats to the left of the door. The window there would allow him to look outside.
    He opened a tiny gap in the curtain, being careful to allow no light out. His pub stood on a country road leaving the town of Frome, with no buildings nearby and therefore no other lights.
    His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw two shapes. The larger figure, the man, sat against the wall of the pub, not moving, holding his neck. The woman was up against the door. Shouting, banging on the door. She looked frantic, like a rabbit, her head turning in all directions, as if being hunted.
    Mac returned to the two by the door.
    “Do we let them in?” said Johnny.
    The banging on the door became more frantic, “Please! Let us in, he’s going to die!”
    Mac shook his head. “We let no one in. He’s been attacked, you know what that means?”
    Johnny nodded and Gaz said, “What you mean?”
    “The virus, you idiot,” said Mac.
    The woman banged again, her shouts now more like sobs.
    Gaz looked at the door, then at Mac and Johnny, “Maybe he don’t have it, maybe it was a big dog or something?”
    Mac didn’t respond, but held his ear against the door, listening.
    Johnny looked at Gaz and held up his finger to his lips.
    The banging stopped, but the crying continued.
    “Sounds like she’s giving up,” said Johnny.
    “Aye,” whispered Mac. He sneaked round to the window again and peeked out to see the woman kneeling by the man, her arms around him, her body rocking with sobs. “They’re on