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  “Give me back my wife.” Bob reached far too late for his wife, and as he put out an arm Angie suddenly grabbed it and bit into his arm. Her teeth ripped through his shirt and coat with ease, and blood immediately began to seep through his clothing. Bob yelped and tried to pull his arm away, but Angie’s teeth were firmly embedded in his forearm. Bashar was reminded of a leopard hunting a gazelle. When they got hold of their prey they would sink their teeth in and not let go until it was dead.

  “Angie, no, what are you doing?”

  Bashar heard footsteps behind him and then Lulu appeared. She grabbed her friend and tried to pull her away, but Angie was refusing to let go of her prize. Bob was hitting her on the head with his free hand, but it was having no effect. Bashar got to his feet and turned around.

  “You,” he said, pointing a bloody finger at the manager. “Where’s the kitchen? We need a large knife or something.”

  The large lady was still standing where she had stopped and was staring at Bob and Angie. Her gaze was vacant and she showed no more interest in Bashar than she would a passing fly. It was as if she had drifted into a coma.

  “Damn it.” Bashar reached across the nearest table for the cutlery left behind by an earlier customer. Muffin crumbs were still stuck to the table knife and the handle was cold and slippery. As Bashar grabbed it he knocked a plate to the floor where it smashed. He turned back around and ordered Lulu to get out of the way.

  Facing the blue-haired girl Bashar raised the knife. He looked into Bob’s eyes. He was crying and his face was pale. The old man might’ve been an arsehole to his now surely dead wife, but he was in pain and faced being dragged into the deadly fog. Bashar hesitated. He could give the girl one last chance.

  “Angie, let him go,” said Bashar firmly. “Don’t force me to hurt you.”

  Nothing happened. Nothing changed. The girl continued to try and chew off Bob’s arm, and Bashar reluctantly gripped the knife. He sucked in a cold breath and then plunged it into Angie’s back, burying it between her should blades.

  Nothing happened. Nothing changed. Bashar watched as Angie began to drag Bob toward the open doorway with the sheer strength of her teeth. Once he was in that fog he would be lost forever. Bashar couldn’t believe it. He grabbed the knife in Angie’s back and plucked it out. Bob only had seconds before he was sucked out into the void too, and Bashar rammed the knife into Angie’s head. He stabbed it through her right temple, the blood splashing from her skull through her blue hair and dripping down the handle.

  Just as Bashar thought nothing was going to have any effect, Angie let go of Bob. She stood up with the knife sticking out of her head, looked at Bashar, and then her eyes rolled back in her head. Her body fell to the floor and Bashar had no doubt the girl was finally dead. Had he killed her, or had he just put down her moving corpse? Either way, the blue-haired girl had released Bob and wasn’t moving anymore.

  “Jesus.” Bob fell back into a chair as Lulu screamed.

  “Angie?”

  Before anyone had time to react Angie’s body was sucked into the fog. Bashar saw fingers grope at her legs and then pull her into the wall of grey fog in the doorway. Bashar lunged forward and pushed the door, closing it behind her. The fog in the café dissipated quickly and as Bashar slumped against the door he heard movement on the other side. There were things out there on the street, things he couldn’t explain; people who were different to before. They were like mummies, as if their bodies were still moving but without the guidance of the soul. It was almost as if they were zombies. Bashar wanted to laugh at the thought, but as he kept his back to the door he looked into the coffee shop and realised they were still in trouble.

  The shop manager had fallen into a chair, too shocked to move. Bob was clutching his arm and breathing heavily. Lulu was crying and the blonde counter girl was trying to comfort her. Bashar finally looked to his left and saw the workman standing over the body of the woman from the car. He had become so engrossed in helping Mary and Bob that he had almost forgotten about them. The workman was covered in blood splatter. His crisp blue shirt was stained crimson while the wrench in his hand was covered in matted hair and bits of flesh. The woman lay at his feet, dead. Her skull was caved in and the workman looked exhausted.

  Bashar turned around, his hands shaking, and he locked the door. The thick fog was still outside and it had turned day into night. As Bashar slowly backed away from it he heard sounds on the street that shouldn’t be possible on a busy city street. Moaning sounds seemed to echo all around, bouncing off the walls and vehicles, suggesting the world were no longer for the living. Snapping, popping sounds were followed by wet sucking noises, and Bashar imagined what they were doing to Mary, Angie and any other unfortunate soul out on the streets. The footsteps outside were faint, irregular, as if whoever was out there was struggling to walk. Finally, there was a distant whooshing sound. Something out there was flying through the air, flying through the streets of London. Bashar backed away from the door. He didn’t want to go out there. He didn’t want to go exploring, or sightseeing, or back to his flat. He wanted to go home, to his wife. He wanted to see her one last time before he died. As he thought of Nurtaj and wiped his bloody hands on his legs, he wasn’t sure if he would ever see her again.

  CHAPTER 3

  “She wouldn’t stop. She just kept coming. She just…she wouldn’t stop.”

  “I know. It’s okay.” Bashar took the wrench from the workman and placed it on the closest table. The dead woman at their feet was an uncomfortable and present reminder of their predicament. Bashar had made sure the café’s door was closed and then made his way to the workman. He was liable to go into shock if Bashar didn’t do something. The man’s face was drawn and his eyes were fixated on the dead woman. Her dress was no longer white but crimson, stained with her blood.

  “Here, sit down a minute,” said Bashar leading the man to a chair.

  “She wouldn’t stop. I had to do it. It was like she was possessed or something.”

  “I know. It’s okay. You had to. We had to stop them.” Bashar recalled only too vividly how he had killed the blue-haired girl, Angie. The knife had entered her skull with surprising ease, yet it had been anything but easy doing it. Bashar had seen so many horrors back home committed in the name of war that he thought he had seen everything. He thought he had escaped that sort of madness, the sort of undignified death that had become commonplace. London was a different world. This sort of thing did not happen here. There was no war. There was life: vibrant, busy, irritating full-on life; yet somehow death had followed him. Bashar took a seat next to the workman.

  “My name is Bashar. And you?”

  The workman placed his hands on the table and then reached for a napkin. He grabbed a large handful and began to wipe his hands on them, turning the crisp white napkins into soggy red mush.

  “Tony.”

  Bashar could see he was losing him. The man was withdrawing from reality, but Bashar needed him. He had been the only other one who had managed to stop one of their attackers. He had fought off the woman and seen it through to its vicious, horrible conclusion. Bashar knew if they were going to survive whatever was occurring outside he was going to need this man on his side.

  “Bashar Zuabi. Wish I could’ve met you some other time, Tony, but looks like today is the day. Can I get you anything? Anything to eat? Coffee?”

  Tony looked at Bashar with thin eyebrows raised. “Are you kidding me, mate?” Tony then realised that Bashar was doing exactly that.

  “Sorry, bad taste.” Bashar put a hand on Tony’s arm and lowered his voice. “I just need to know you’re going to be all right, Tony. With this. With what’s happening now. You going to be okay?”

  Tony sighed and looked at the crumpled napkins in his hands. He reached for the wrench and began to wipe the tissue and hair from it. “Yeah, mate, I’ll be all right. Not going to hang around here for long though. Only came in for a quick cuppa. I need to get going.”

&nbs
p; “I understand.” Bashar looked across the café at Bob who was still nursing his bitten arm. The young blonde who had served him earlier was wrapping it with a tea towel while the manager sat in her chair morosely staring into space. Lulu, the friend of the dead girl, was sobbing in the far corner, her shaking hands trying to work her mobile phone.

  “Tony, can you stay here a moment? I’m just going to check on the others. Then you can do what you need to do. Just wait for me, please?”

  Tony nodded. He finished wiping his wrench and tossed the dirty napkins aside. He reached down for his tool bag and brought it up to settle on his lap. Bashar caught sight of more tools inside that he hoped they would not have to use. There were hammers, spanners and an assortment of tools that could inflict serious damage on the human body if required. Bashar had seen what humans could do to each other before he left Syria and was surprised to find himself thinking of Nurtaj again. It was only natural, he reflected, that he think of his family in a time of stress. The others were likely doing the same.

  “I’ll be back, Tony.” Bashar passed by Bob, noticing that the young girl had done a good job of strapping up his injured arm.

  “He going to live?” asked Bashar.

  The young girl looked up at him, her mascara now just thin black streaks down her wet cheeks. “For now.”

  “You did good.”

  “Stay there, Bob,” said Bashar as Bob tried to stand. “Save your energy.”

  “But Mary. I need to find her. I can’t leave her out there.”

  “Too late. She’s gone.”

  Bashar actually surprised himself with how callous he sounded. The old man looked distraught. Was Bashar acting like this because of the way Bob had treated Mary? Or was he already becoming so used to death that it no longer affected him the way it used to?

  “I’m sorry, Bob. Just stay where you are. We can look for Mary later.”

  He wanted to try and offer some sort of reassurance to the old man that Mary could still be rescued, but there was no way the old woman was still alive. Bashar knew it, and so did Bob. Going out that door was far too risky. At the very least it would put everyone at risk. Whatever was happening seemed to be restricted to the thick fog right now and Bashar didn’t want anyone opening that door.

  “Mister, what’s going on?” The blonde girl stood up and sniffed. “I’ve never seen anything like it. There was a car accident once, right outside. Some man was crossing the road and got run over. It was horrible. There was blood everywhere. But that girl and the woman over there… it was different. They were… I don’t know… different. And then there was that black thing. What the hell was that? My mum and dad will go spare when they hear what’s happened. Dad will be at work, but mum’s at home in the day. She’s probably seen it on the news. I hope she doesn’t come down here. Maybe I should get home. The station’s right across the road. I think I need to get home. This job’s not worth dying for.”

  Bashar read the girl’s name badge and felt momentarily ashamed that he hadn’t noticed it earlier. Sam. Probably short for Samantha. He had been drawn to her good looks and charming smile. He had thought of her as nothing but ‘the coffee shop girl.’ It hadn’t occurred to him she was more than that, that she had her own worries and family.

  “Yes, the station,” said Bob. “I need to get my train. I’ll go with you.”

  “Sam, do me a favour and stay here with him, please.” Bashar needed them all to stay together, safely inside the shop, at least until they knew what they were facing. “I’m going to check on that other girl, Lulu, and see if she’s got through to anyone on her phone. We’ll figure this out. We just need to make sure that when we leave we’re all going to be safe. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Lulu had apparently given up on her phone and was curled up on an armchair with her feet tucked underneath her body. Her eyes were red although her tears had stopped falling. She clutched her phone in her hand and as Bashar approached she looked at him warily. Strands of brown hair clung to her face. The shopping bags around her feet were forgotten and Bashar could sense the mistrust in her voice.

  “What do you want?”

  “I just want to make sure that you’re okay,” replied Bashar. As if approaching a hungry lion Bashar kept his distance and his manner calm. “We’re all worried, you know. Are you hurt?”

  Lulu shrugged. “Dunno. What’s it to you? Don’t you want to get back to your mosque? Leave me alone.”

  Bashar had faced more terrifying things than a scared girl, and heard far worse comments in his life. Casual racism was a daily occurrence and something he had learnt to not affect him. It was just another day at the office as far as he was concerned.

  “If you’re sure you’re fine then I’ll leave you alone. If you want to talk to someone else though, you’ll find Sam or Tony are quite nice people. I’m sure—”

  “Nice? Don’t give me that. What do any of you lot care about me? You just killed my friend. You killed her, I saw it with my own eyes. What, do you think I’m stupid? None of you did anything to help her.”

  “Your friend was biting Bob. Did you see that?” Bashar took a step closer to Lulu and she straightened up, swinging her legs out from under her. “I gave her every chance I could to back off.”

  “Yeah, well, that old man deserved it for speaking to his wife like that.”

  “I don’t think he deserved to get his arm chewed off,” said Bashar. He looked at Lulu and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he’s a very nice man at home and just forgot his head for a moment.”

  “Yeah, well, whatever.” Lulu’s aggression softened slightly. “But when we get out of here I’m going to tell the old Bill exactly what happened and how you killed her. I thought you fellas used suicide vests, not knives.”

  Bashar raised his palms and ignored the barbed comments from the ignorant girl. She only knew what the media sold her and now was not the time to get into anything. “Fair enough. I’ve no problem with that.” Bashar looked at the pink phone in the girl’s hand. “I don’t suppose you managed to through to the police yet, did you? I would be more than happy to see them right now. You know what I’m saying? I think they are just the people we all want to see.”

  “What, so you can take us hostage? No, I didn’t get through to them. 999 was busy. Budget cuts I suppose. Hardly surprising.”

  Bashar stifled a laugh. “Did you manage to get through to anyone, then? Your parents?”

  Lulu stood up and folded her arms. “What is this, the third degree? No, I didn’t get through to my parents. My mum’s at work and I ain’t seen my dad for years. So give it a rest. I called my boyfriend. When he hears about this and what you did to Angie he’ll get his mates and beat you to a pulp. You got that, freak? Now leave me alone.”

  Bashar noticed that she said she had called her boyfriend and yet spoke as if he didn’t know about her friend yet. “So you didn’t get through to your boyfriend?”

  “No. I just got voicemail. But when I do get hold of him I’ll tell him some pervert keeps hitting on me. Then we’ll see how big and brave you are. Now leave me alone.”

  “Okay, Lulu. I’ll leave you alone. Just remember to stay inside for now. It’s not safe out there.”

  “Well, duh.”

  Lulu began to pace up and down, futilely pressing buttons on her phone. Bashar thought she must be texting her boyfriend. He could understand her animosity. It was best not to provoke her any further, but interesting that she hadn’t been able to reach anyone. They did need help and calling the police was the first option. Could 999 really be permanently busy?

  “Sam, have you got a phone?” Bashar watched as the girl took a slim black phone from the pocket of her jeans. “You want to try it?”

  Sam looked at the phone. “I’ll try calling for the cops.”

  Bashar watched as she held it to her ear. After a few seconds Sam shook her head and looked puzzled. “It’s not connecting.”

  “Try your parents. Ring your mother.�
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  Bashar watched as Sam hit a couple of buttons and put the phone back to her ear. He waited for Sam to speak, but eventually she took the phone away from her ear.

  “Nothing,” said Sam, quietly. “She’s always at home at this time of day, but it’s just ringing and ringing.”

  “Same here.” Tony came over to them with his phone in his hand. “I’ve tried ringing Lissie, my wife, but it’s just going to voicemail. It’s not like her to not answer. She usually has her phone glued to her head.”

  Bashar felt uneasy. It was possible he supposed that the phone network could be busy. It could be that it was simply overloaded with thousands of other people trying to ring their families, much like after the Tube bombings a few years back. But shouldn’t 999 always work? Surely the police and ambulance were always on call?

  “Isn’t there some way you can call the police on the internet these days?” asked Bashar. “You know, if you don’t have a phone, you can still send a message.”

  “Yeah, I’ve never done it before but I’ll give it a try.” Sam checked the data on her phone and waited to connect.

  Bashar glanced back at the door. The entranceway to the café was covered in blood. The chairs and tables had been thrown around and it was clear there had been a fight. When the police finally did show up they were going to have some explaining to do. Yet Bashar felt what they were experiencing wasn’t isolated. The murky fog and strange noises told him that what was going on was bigger than just in their café. It wasn’t isolated to The Strand, but something much more than that. He couldn’t imagine what was causing it, but was keen to figure it out as soon as possible. Lulu was still on her own, agitated, frustrated, grieving; someone was going to have to watch her. He couldn’t risk talking to her again yet. All he would achieve would be to upset her even more. If she got it into her head that she was going to leave then he suspected it would prove difficult to stop her. And yet that door was staying firmly shut. It seemed to be the only thing keeping them alive right now.