A bead of sweat rolled down the small of Nick’s back.
Once he’d yanked the blindfold completely clear, he spun on his heel and legged it back to the bus. He performed a running leap up the steps and skidded in the aisle. He told Dave to “step on it.”
Dave didn’t argue.
The doors closed and Nick watched the young girl turn around and scream at them. But by that time they were already well on their way.
The bus picked up speed and the cold autumn air swept in through the broken windscreen. It gave Nick a chill. He leant up against Dave’s driver compartment and watched the road go by, eventually losing count of the numerous wrecked cars and fallen bodies that seemed to pop up around every bend.
“We need a new plan,” he said to Dave. “Driving around like this is just going to get us killed.”
“No argument here. We’re running out of petrol, too. So what should we do?”
Nick thought for a second before giving his answer. The plan was simple. “Stop at the first safe place that will take us.”
chapter six
One hour passed. The view from the bus’s windows only got worse. On the outskirts of Cannock, they witnessed an overturned petrol tanker and a dozen charred bodies. It was unclear what had happened but it seemed that the tanker’s operator decided to try and run right through a police barricade, disregarding a group of people gathered there. The explosion probably killed them all instantly. Then, only minutes later, the bus entered a village called Alrewas only to find every resident there dead. Their limbs and guts lined the concrete paths like Christmas decorations. A group of infected people milled around the middle of the village’s roads, eating the remains of the dead. Eve had almost vomited and had been crying ever since. After everything they had all witnessed, the bus passengers were slowly realising that they weren’t just having a bad day. The situation wasn’t going to be dealt with by the Ten O’ Clock News. Things had fallen apart. Totally and irreversibly. The country – maybe even the world – was under siege.
But all I really care about is that my son is dead.
Does that make me a terrible person?
The bus’s current heading was north on the A38, just past Derby. Nick still held onto a slither of hope that they might chance upon a local army regiment or police force, but the current plan was simply to keep their eyes peeled for any sign of authority at all. What form that would take, none of them knew. None of them cared.
The current road was one of the few that still flowed with traffic. The various remaining drivers were now mostly careful and things were moving along in an orderly fashion. The only problem was that most people didn’t seem to know where they were going. Many cars were parked off on the verge, their petrol tanks dry after miles of aimless driving. Some people wandered the side of the road in small groups, trying to hitch a lift. Dave stopped for a couple of people whenever he could, but had no choice but to ignore most of them. Those he did pick up were eternally grateful. Those he ignored screamed obscenities.