Elizabeth Milton's Story

It is the curious affliction of the Londoner (or perhaps the English in general) to find mundaneness even in the most unusual or unsettling of circumstances. Eliza had first realised this when she was fourteen and her mother's father had died. The undertakers had come, like long shadows in their black suits and their top hats, to take him away. She watched as her mother dragged her handkerchief across her eyes and hurriedly caught them at the door, stretcher still in their hands. See that you trim his beard, she'd said. It's grown far too long for an open-casket service.

At the time, she'd been too distraught, too bewildered by death's first touch to consider why her mother had said such a stupid banal thing at a time like that. But now she knew all too well; to normalise something was to control it. When she heard the grocer's wife on the corner at Bishopsgate complaining that all her husband's suppliers were behind the barricades she knew she was not trivialising whatever black horror lay behind that hastily constructed wall. She did it for the same reason Eliza herself continued to get on the No. 11 every Wednesday and Thursday to her job as a clerk in a small law firm in Waterloo. If the little details were familiar then the bigger picture seemed to matter less.

Although at the moment, it was difficult to say what the bigger picture was exactly. There was something, some disease, that had killed thousands in the East End and turned hundreds more into... Well, she wasn't sure about that, either. Monsters, perhaps. But she'd never seen one, had only heard snatches of what the women who'd got out before the Army walled off Whitechapel had related, hysterical and mindless with fear or monotonous and numb, to the older workers at the shelter. She'd been kept out of the way and dismissed when she demanded to know what they'd said then grown angry at their secrecy. Stories and even the odd grainy photo were all over the papers, of course, but somehow it was more difficult to believe second-hand.

The only thing... A body, too far away to make out properly, looking more like a bundle of old clothes, at the end of the street, a crowd gathering. Cordoned off, men wearing masks and rubber suits taking it away.

But that night a week ago seemed a long way away now. The No. 11 was almost as busy as it always had been and she nudged her way past a dozen people to find a seat right at the back of the omnibus. Gathering her skirts around herself (ignoring a mildly disapproving look at her dress from an elderly lady on the seat next to her) she sat down and looked out of the window as they pulled away from the curb, the horses kicking their hooves over the cobbles.

Eliza had been on the omnibus for five minutes when they pulled in again to pick up three people waiting at the stop outside a hatshop on the corner of Farringdon Road. She glanced up as the first passenger, a young man a few years older than herself, walked down the central aisle, pausing briefly to regain his balance as the horses set off again.

Then she flinched violently as a woman's scream erupted through the carriage.

What happened then, she never remembered. But there could have only been a few moments interval between hearing that scream and finding herself on wedged in between the seats, the omnibus on its side in the middle of Farringdon Road. There were more screams now, and shouts, and the sounds of horses snorting in panic. Automatically, she reached a gloved hand to the side of the seat to pull herself up. The elderly woman who had frowned at her dress had been flung down onto the cobbles outside and there was blood in her grey hair.

With a grunt of effort that suddenly caused stars of agony to erupt behind her eyes, she hauled herself up, her heeled shoes finding purchase on the seats, and out onto the top (previously the side) of the omnibus.

Opening her mouth to sob for help, she gradually realised that she could hear something else, under the commotion going on in the street around her. A terrifying sound that the most primitive part of her brain was exquisitely attuned to: the gristle, the crunch and the slurp of something eating.

Basil was planning to visit his son. He had just married a fine woman and was making his way to visit him.

He could not remember what happened next.

Basil's vision was blurred - he could only hear screaming and running. The horses were struggling. He could hear their hooves clattering against the cobbled street and their frantic neighs. Basil managed to free himself from an unconscious woman and the side of the carriage. He could see streaks of light just in front of him from a window ahead. He dragged himself forwards clutching on to his walking stick as he done so. He pulled himself through the window and took a deep breath of air. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples as he waited for his vision to correct itself. Once it had, he looked around to see people simply ignoring the crash - they were actually running away from the crash.

"Hallo!" he shouted and coughed, he climbed out and jumped down from the wreck. He began dusting his clothes and hair of debris, "Isabella! Isabella?"

A young women had stumbled out of the omnibus; seeing anther survivor gave him hope for his maid.

He coughed again and leant on his walking stick trying to regain his breath. As he watched the wreckage for survivors, searching for his maid Isabella, he heard a strange groaning and a squelch. He could only faintly make it out over the chaos around, the horses neighing alone filled his head not to mention the shrill screams of women. He saw movement from where the driver was sat. Another loud groan sounded from it. He walked forwards,
"Driver? Excuse me driver, do you need help?" he was now nearing it and stood one leg on the side of coach. He leant forwards looking into the open door of the driver,"Driver!" He gasped and stumbled back.

It looked like a person. But it was hunched and almost ape like over the driver. As he shouted driver the third time it turned to him with entrails hanging from its bared teeth. Basil almost fell as he reeled from the shock. He was frozen as he watched the thing pull itself up. It climbed - its hands were covered in blood, its eyes fogged. Basil was oblivious to the chaos going on behind him as it fell out of the coach. It landed on its leg which made a loud crack and a bone stabbed through its knee; but it continued walking. It shuffled and groaned hands reaching forwards and quickening its pace. Basil gripped his walking stick's handle and jabbed fiercely at its chest knocking it back to the ground. He heard a sickening crack but it still tried to climb up. Basil looked around but saw everyone was in a panic. Everyone was running from something. The thing began to pull itself up and Basil swung his walking stick up and with all the strength he could muster and hit it straight in the chest. It lay back down but was not winded like a normal creature. Basil walked around it and stood by its head, looking over it trying to figure out what it was. Its eyes followed him as it contorted its body to reach him. It reeked of a rotting corpse. Basil took his walking stick in both hands raised it and dropped it straight down into the thing's stomach. He put all his weight on it and could feel it go through the skin. It moved too easily through the flesh and seemed to crack a bone. Basil pulled out the stick and staggered back. He shook it furiously to get rid of the black mush - he remembered his maid and called for her again and again as he stared in horror at the thing he had just ... Murdered? He just wanted to stop it. He was shaking at the thought have murdered a man in plain sight. It sat up. It groaned and carried on towards Basil. Reaching forwards it crawled and - Basil thought he was about to heave - only it's torso was moving towards him.

It was funny, how things happened in a split second. It was even funnier, how a person could be exposed to such shocks, and expect to be used to them, only to be proven wrong.

Lena had been walking down the street when the omnibus came up behind her. Though it would be much faster to take the omnibus, she refused to take the cause of her brother's death. She walked anywhere she went, and years after years of walking had given her a nice, slim figure. She never went far from home anyway, and could really use the exercise after a long day of sitting down and working on hats.

The omnibus trundled ahead of her, right up to the stop outside the hatshop where Lena worked at. She watched for a minute as the three people who had waited in line filed carefully onto the omnibus. Another person rushed up, and joined the line at the last minute. Lena frowned. Something was rather odd about the person. Despite the slightly warmer weather this past week, he was dressed in thick clothing. His lapel was pulled up, and his hat had been tugged down, to hide his face. He walked strangely, too - a sort of shambling run that looked very uncomfortable.

Lena watched for a second longer, as the omnibus pulled away from the stop. That second may well have determined Lena's fate; as she watched, the omnibus wobbled, as though something very energetic were rocking it from the inside. Lena stopped, startled. The omnibus then tipped over on its side. A high scream came from the omnibus, presumably from one of its passengers.

Lena hurried forward. She'd never known an omnibus to tip over before, and this would surely have dire consequences. Right now, though, her only priority was to help the passengers.

The first thing she saw was a young woman, trying her best to get out of the omnibus. She looked to be about Lena's age. Lena stretched a hand out, offering assistance. "Miss!" she called. "Are you all right?"

Basil was lost. He was stuck watching the thing crawl towards him, it's fogged eyes darted round till they stopped on him. He had taken no notice of his surroundings until a metal rail came crashing into his view and the thing's head. It exploded into black mush and thick, gooey blood.

His heart was raising and he felt his breath quicken. His saviour was Isabella -

"Mr.Granger, are you alright sir? Oh my lord what is that thing?"

Her voice brought Basil back to his surroundings. He finally looked around at the other pedestrians still in a panic. He recalled the news articles (well, rumours publishers had decided to waste ink on, in Basil's opinion) with nothing but grainy pictures to back them up. They spoke about some things, some infection which had taken part of London. Was this it? Could an infection have inspired cannibalism in men?

"Miss Isabella," he took her arm, and examined her forehead, she had just a small cut, " I am quite all right."

Basil leant on his walking stick and with a deep breath began a brisk walk. He motioned for Isabella to follow. He made his way around the crash of the omnibus; this alone was a struggle with people bumping into him and screaming. Two young looking women were pulling themselves out of the wreckage.

"We need to move off the street," Basil looked back to Isabella, his voice grew sullen, "I think the good Lord has nothing to do with this."

He completely ignored her question of what it was. He had no explanation but was running through the different exotic infections he had come across. None he could think of would ever lead to rotting flesh or that putrid smell. As he tried to think what had happened he saw an alleyway. It looked narrow but empty. The crowds were dispersing everywhere but that direction. He had decided it would be easier to collect his thoughts further from the crowds.

"Follow me!" he called to Isabella as he fought his way against the crowd making for the alley.

The Italian was on his usual corner selling ices, a halfpenny apiece, but the children had already had their fill for the day and he was packing up to go home. Strolling up the street toward him was a man in his early thirties with a shock of grey hair that had completely silvered by his twentieth birthday. He made an odd sight with his young face and grey hair, his long, straight nose and crooked teeth. Handsome he was not, yet people were inclined to look at him nonetheless.

The man’s hands were shoved deeply into his pockets with an air of casual nonchalance, but fisted in one hand was the small purse that held his earnings for the week, £1 and four shillings, fingers tightly curled around the coins. He had a deep-seeded mistrust of foreigners in general and Italians in particular, at least when it came to money. The Italian was always bemoaning his lack of money, yet somehow he managed to winter in Italy every year. The grey-haired man shook his head to himself, breathing out a small sigh.

The man was Sam Hoxworth, and he happily lived at the social fringe of society. His occupation as a gravedigger often left people at a momentary loss for words, eventually followed by some sort of pleasantry. “Oh... Well, how nice. Such a necessary profession, isn’t it? Yes, yes. Quite.” Usually this was followed by the retreat of whoever he had come into introduction with. Surprisingly, the young gravedigger was not bitter. He was a happy bachelor who made just enough to get by, and that was more than many could say. Why, this month he even had a little left over. Maybe he would just pop in to the chemist and pick up a bit of tobacco, he thought to himself.

Sam was so invested in his thoughts about smoking his pipe and busy keeping his eye on the retreating Italian that he never even saw the omnibus approach. He was oblivious to the abrupt panic in the street, and he barely saw the shadows shift as the carriage fell sideways beside him. It knocked him to the ground, and with a gurgled, raspy intake of breath, the omnibus trapped one leg to just above the knee beneath the body of the toppled horse-drawn transport. He felt a sharp rip of pain lance through his leg, and it turned quickly into an insistent throbbing; a pulse so raw he tried in vain to pull the limb free despite the agony the movement caused.

The horses were trying to get to their feet, but there was too much slack between the bus and the animals to draw the carriage upright and off of him. Through the windows people were climbing to get out and their added weight sent splinters of pain through him.

“Stop, stop,” he gasped at the young woman about to climb through the window just above him. Another woman was reaching toward her, offering aid. He was concealed in the shadow the bus cast, obscuring him from the sight of anyone who might have come to his aid. “I’m trapped,” he said in a panicky tone. “Please, you’ve got to... Please, find someone who can help me.”

A woman couldn’t help him, he thought with a groan, eyes casting around anxiously for a man, but the crowded street suddenly seemed in chaos. Why was there shouting? The bus had tipped, that was all. Why had no one even noticed he was stuck beneath it? Why were people screaming?

Her gaze was still fixed on the abomination as the chaotic screams filled her surroundings. It was not everyday she comes across a moving cadaver, if it isn't dead then she doesn't know what to call it.

"Miss Isabella," Mr. Granger took her arm as he examined her forehead but her focus was still on the creature that laid lifeless before them " I am quite all right." He followed suited but the maiden was still in shock.

"We need to move off the street, I think the good Lord has nothing to do with this." Her crazed thoughts were then shook by her master's voice, as Isabella turned her focus towards him. He looked flustered and maybe even afraid, the first time he saw the galant man look like he was about to vomit and piss at the same time. He quickly held his cane and expected her to follow and when she stood frozen in the middle of the street he spoke once again, "Follow me!"

Just then she saw a female onlooker helping another woman on her feet as the crowd started spreading in different direction she was about to leave the two of them, thinking that the woman wouldn't be needing another hand, a low and almost in pain like voice filled her ears.

“Please, you’ve got to... Please, find someone who can help me.” She tried to look around to find the owner of the voice but couldn't locate it. She quickly grabbed her skirt and rushed to the other side of the omnibus, determined to see who cried for help. And as she went around, she quickly called for her master.

"Mr. Granger, please, someone needs our help," She tried to see where her master had head off and hoped that he would come back as well. And as the vision of a man who's leg was trapped under the transportation, Isabella hurriedly went down on her knees to see his condition.

"Mr. Granger, sir! I beg you," She tried to call his attention with panic in her voice. "He- he is badly hurt sire" Her hands were frantically trying to search a possible way to help the stranger but panic had overcome her.

Basil felt as though he could breathe properly again. In his youth he would not have tired so easily. Basil leant back on the wall for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak to Isabella but caught himself as he realised he was alone. He looked around and saw her stood by the omnibus - an odd looking man was stuck underneath it crying out for help and she had stopped to aid him.

The young women he had seen climbing out of the wreckage had remained calm, even with all the panic. She had been quick to help the man by fiercely hitting the horse with a cane and freeing the man from the omnibus. Basil's view of the man's injury was obscured but he could see blood spreading from his leg.
"Isabella!" he called out for his maid, there was nothing she could do for the man now.

Basil assumed she heard him and he began again to look around for safety. Crossing the street may prove too difficult in the chaos. He turned to look down the alley.

Basil continued to move down through the alley, not moving to quickly from fatigue and so he would not lose his wayward maid. It was the kind of dark, dingy alley he would have normally quickened his pace when passing. The alley reeked of urine but the smell grew stronger as he walked further in. He stopped. Basil thought there may have been a body, the smell of a rotting corpse hit him in a waft the further in the alley he walked. He turned to look back at Isabella, distancing himself from the street had left him feeling calm, even peaceful in the cool but stinking alley. Leaning on his stick he took out his box of snuff. It was a handsome oak box with his initials in gold. He flipped open his box of snuff and took a pinch and sniffed. As he did, he turned round. The box slipped out of his hands. A cry of shock slipped out his mouth. He threw half his snuff and just barely caught it to snap the box shut before he turned and ran. As close as he was to dropping the snuff was as close as the thing was to grabbing Basil.

"Run!" he screamed with his voice breaking and coughing,"Isabella! Run!"

That man he saw on the road was not the only one. Shuffling with grunts and slouches were other "men" and "women". He thought he saw a child among them. He reached the edge of the alley, the thing just behind him reaching forwards. Basil walked backwards where he froze for a moment as it almost touched him. Basil swung his cane and knocked it to the ground. It struggled to climb back up. Isabella had only managed to stop the last one by crushing its skull. Basil tightened his grip on his cane lifted it up and smashed it through the side of it's skull. It instantly stopped moving. He struggled to pull out his cane and shook it to get rid of the black mush.

Basil now was walking backwards facing the oncoming hoard. He backed towards Isabella and the others,
"We need to get off this street," he coughed from breathing in the snuff too deeply.

The weight of the bus was cutting off the circulation to his leg and the entire limb began to go numb. He could wiggle his foot a little, but his knee was firmly wedged between a pole on the side of the bus and the edge of the street, making it impossible to pull his leg out.

He heard footsteps coming toward him and looked up as a colored woman approached. She loomed over him in a blood-soiled dress, screaming for help from someone else. “No, it’s not that bad,” he insisted in a pained gasp. “I’m just... Just stuck.”

He didn’t think it was too bad, at least. He could feel the tickle of blood that was dripping down the bottom of his knee, but he didn’t think anything was broken. Above him a woman was carefully climbing down from the window to avoid falling on top of him, then she disappeared. The streets were full of chaos; a chaos that was certainly disproportional to the omnibus accident that had just happened. He looked around wildly to see what was going on, but his view was cut off by the overturned bus in front of him and the negro woman behind him. He craned his neck to try to see around her, and everywhere there seemed to be people running, screaming...

What had happened?

People were flooding the streets to get out of the area and locking themselves in their homes. He could see the people in the little apartment above the butcher shop behind the colored woman peeping anxiously between the curtains out at the chaos that had taken hold of the street. Pinned and immobile, Sam could do nothing but pray someone would stop and help him.

Like an answer from God the bus suddenly shifted. Something dug into his leg and he screamed in pain, getting dragged with the bus for a moment, then his knee freed of the obstacle. Blood seemed to rush to the deadened limb, sending a thousand needles up his leg that made him suck in a sharp breath, but he was free! Sam tenderly withdrew his leg and looked around for the man he had to thank. Instead, a young woman looked down at him from the other side of the horses, a cane in her hand, her arm still slightly outstretched from striking the beast. She looked almost as astonished as he felt, thought Sam.

“Thank you, Miss,” he croaked, clumsily pulling himself to his feet. The leg that had been trapped held him but there was residual numbness and a red-hot pain behind his knee. “That was good think-”

His attention was suddenly drawn to the side where the street opened up to a narrow, shadowed alleyway. A refined looking gentleman was running in Sam’s direction, shouting to someone named Isabella, who he could only assume was the woman with the dark blonde hair. The man was in a complete panic, but it seemed to be shared by everyone in the area- everyone but himself, who was still confused by the commotion. He scanned the alley, trying to see what scared the older man so much, and Sam’s eyes caught on the figure of a middle-aged woman in a dirty frock reaching toward the gentleman.

The man turned and slammed his cane into the woman running behind him. She fell to the ground and Sam sucked in a breath of shock, frozen in place by what he was seeing. The old man raised his cane then plunged it down into the woman’s skull with a sickening crunch, then yanked it free. Thick, dark blood dripped from the end of it, but he backed away from the body remorselessly, drawing nearer to Sam and the small group that was near him. The grey-haired grave digger's eyes were glued to the lifeless corpse.

Isabella was back on her feet as the courageous woman helped with the situation. Her hands were still shaking as she continued to panic, "Mr. Granger, we cannot leave them." She continued to make her voice louder, trying to overpower the noise from their surroundings.

When she suddenly heard him utter a cry, a cry of someone who had probably seen a lot of outrageous things aside from the cadaver who tried to attack him earlier. She quickly raised her gaze from the man to where she thought she heard Basil's voice. He was panicking as well as he smashed another cadaver's head with the point of his cane.

And even before she could think twice, she hurriedly stood up and rushed towards to meet her employer. "Wha-" She was about to ask when he interrupted her question, "We need to get off this street," She followed his gaze, revealing more of the animated corpses that had attacked and caused the chaos.

Her hands quickly found her mouth and cupped them, muffling a shocked gasp, "No- No! This is- impossible!" More shrieks pierced her ears, it shook her from the surprise as her gaze fell back to the people around the omnibus. She quickly tugged at Basil's sleeves and pointed, "Mr. Granger, we can't go elsewhere. Who knows what danger lies ahead." She looked at her employer as that the other girl was checking the situation of the injured man.

Rebecca wanted to be back in the city. She had been growing restless in the country and the weather had been turning unfavourable. Her father had already returned a week prior. A steady stream of messages had been arriving at their country home, brought by red faced boys who looked as if they had been riding harder than was needed. Rebecca had watched her father grow quiet and contemplative, then headed off to the city telling her mother that they would hear from him soon.

They had not and so her mother had packed them up and ordered the country home closed up. She was happy. The city meant dinners and parties, suitors and conversation. Rebecca loved the busyness of the city.

Rebecca stifled a yawn as the large carriage passed down the street. She would be home soon and her clothes would be unpacked. Her chin rested in her hand as she leaned the small window’s edge. Eyelids rimmed with dainty lashes began to grow heavy and slowly closed.

The carriage came to halt. There was noise and screams. Rebecca was sleeping and did not notice.

“What in the world is going on?” Her mother moved around in her seat, kicking Rebecca.

“Ow! Mother, do be careful please.” Rebecca rubbed her leg through her dress. “Whatever in the world are you doing? Why are we stopped?”

Her mother’s rather round body moved upward and towards the door. She opened it and the sound of screams were carried into the carriage and to Rebecca’s ears. The woman paled and pressed a handkerchief to her nose.

“Why are we stopped? Driver, answer me.”

“Ma’am there was an accident I cannot go anywhere at the moment.” He made a noise that sounded as if he had swallowed his tongue. “The good lord what is that?”

“I do not care what is going on find a way to get us around!”

“Ma’am for the sake of all you hold dear please close the door.”

Rebecca could hear that something was wrong with the driver, something in his voice sent chills down her spine. “Mother, mother do what he asks something is not right.” She could not see anything out the window.

Her mother’s bulk shifted, she huffed and closed the door. “This is absurd.”

Rebecca raised her handkerchief once again to her nose. “Everything will be fine I am sure mother.” Her tone was not at all convincing.

On the street, Jonah had been out and about running some errands for the ladies. He had been sent to retrieve some perishables and of course, their ‘tonic’. He smiled and stuck his hands into his pockets. He did not mind their eccentricities and found them slightly endearing.

He rounded a corner as the chaos was in full swing. An omnibus was being moved away, people were screaming and others were scrambling. There was blood and bodies, carriages stuck and unable to move and things that were...things. They looked like people but something was wrong.

Jonah was of course aware of the disease and the walled off area. It was the talk on the docks. Whatever was going on had effected ships coming and going. There was talk of monsters and walking sickness but Jonah found it all hard to believe. Sure, people got sick but the things that some of the men were talking about could not be true.

The sight before him made his stomach turn. He looked about quickly. Many were running and taking refuge indoors. A small group seemed the most vulnerable. His eyes spotted a larger personal carriage.

“Here! Over here! Run this way! Quickly get in that carriage!” Jonah waved at them. A few women and a couple of men it appeared at a quick glance. “Come on!”

He ran towards the horses and grabbed the reins near the one horses mouth. “Get turned around we got to get out of here.”

The driver shook his head, “What are you doing?”

Jonah gave the man a confused look, “Helping to save their and your lives.” He pulled the horses, make them begin to turn.

Rebecca felt the carriage lurch. Her mother grunted, “Good. Enough of this nonsense.”

Rebecca could hear the driver arguing with someone though both her mother and her chaperone seemed oblivious. She frowned, her heart pounding in her chest and her rapid breathing constrained by her corset. Pale hands shook.

Jonah looked back as he urged the horses to turn. “Come on! Don’t stand there not moving! Can’t you see they are coming closer.” He didn’t pause to think too hard on what or who ‘they’ were. The horses moved and slowly the carriage began to turn. The doors would be more accessible now to the fleeing people.

Jonah yelled once more “Run!”

"Stop, stop." Lena's eyes slid downwards quickly, searching for the source of the desperate pleading. A man's leg had been pinned under the carriage, and it appeared that he couldn't escape. She glanced around, panicked. How could she help? As if reading her thoughts, the man's pleading became more frantic. "I'm trapped. Please, you've got to - please, find someone who could help me."

"Hold on!" Lena called down to him. The lady from the omnibus leapt down, and Lena grabbed her hand. Luckily, the lady managed to land safely. She thanked Lena briefly, then turned her attention to the man, who was still trapped. Lena shifted nervously, wondering if she could help.

The lady beside her gasped then, and Lena whirled around. Only inches away from her, a rotting corpse lurched unsteadily, fingers reaching out to grab her. Lena shrieked loudly, scrambling backwards. "What is that?!" A coloured woman appeared out of nowhere, and began hitting the corpse. Blood splattered onto Lena, spotting her dress and hair. Sunflower-blond hair now accented with bright red, Lena sat down hard on the pavement, ignoring the pain that shot up her back. This was unreal. What was happening?

Before she could react, an older gentleman raced up to them. Lena looked up at him, wondering, What now? "We need to get off this street."

Lena noticed the blood on his cane. She also noticed, with a sinking heart, that more - corpses were moving towards them. She struggled to her feet, and, on the verge of fainting, fell sideways again, crashing into the carriage.

"Mr. Granger, please he is badly hurt. Mr. Granger!" Isabella cried out, Basil saw the man get on his feet, and he told everyone they should move. He was looking around for somewhere to run but he could not help but point of Isabella's hysterics.
"He is on his feet! He is fine!" Basil shouted abruptly,"Just a tiny bit blood, you stupid girl."

There seemed to be none of the 'things' further up the street, but then again they could get closed off at a later alley. He continued searching the street where he saw a butchers - it looked as though it was empty and they could possibly get knifes; or, he pondered grimly, be caged in by the things.

Basil was taking little notice of anyone other than Isabella so he jumped as a young, pretty blond seemed to faint at the sight of the ghouls shambling towards them. He reached out to help her to notice she was still conscious. Basil still left his hand out to offer he assistance, he looked down the alley and his mouth dropped open,
"I do not wish to alarm anyone," Basil continued in a shaky voice, " but we need to move."

Basil looked down the alley were a panicked pedestrian had tripped, it was a young street urchin that would have otherwise gone unnoticed if he had not become a meal for a large handful of ghouls. They were ripping the poor child apart and his screams were quickly drowned out as they completely smothered him and torn into the throat.

Jonah looked at the group but none of them seemed sure of where to go. The sounds of the creatures, the things that were moving towards them made him want to wretch. He knew if they stalled any longer they would be set upon and have no chance of escape.

“Come on! Get in the carriage and maybe we can make a break out of here!” Jonah called to them.

He noticed one of the women begin to fall sideways. She seemed on the verge of fainting. With a growl, Jonah turned to the paled driver. The man looked ready to bolt and lose the contents of his stomach all at once. “Take this and we are going to have to bolt as soon as I get these people to move!”

The driver nodded but looked over his shoulder. “I don’t know where you think we are going to go to...we seem to be...surrounded...”

Jonah turned and sneered, ‘I don’t bloody know but we can’t stay here!” He ran towards the woman. He approached her, “Sorry miss but we can’t have you fainting right now.”

Strong arms scooped her up in a tight basket carry. “I suggest you get in the carriage and we can see if we can’t take one of these side alleys or something.”

He looked at the group waiting to see if they would follow or had a better plan.

In the carriage, Rebecca’s mother was beyond flustered and annoyed. “Why have we stopped? This is ludacris!” She blotted at her face with a handkerchief that she produced from one sleeve.

Rebecca looked out the window. The carriage had turned enough that she had a view of the street and not just the fronts of buildings. “My but those people look unwell.” A slight frown wrinkled her pretty face.

“Yes, yes dear I am sure there are plenty of ill and poor to see out there but it is not polite to stare. Also they might come to the carriage asking for money or food or something. Do not encourage such behaviour in the lower classes.”

Rebecca nodded automatically but her eyes were fixed on the strange people moving on the road. Something about the way they moved, the odd colouring to some of them and she couldn’t be sure but some even appeared to be missing parts of their body. She blinked numerous times thinking her mind was playing trick but the sight never changed save for them growing closer little by little.

“Mother, I do not think they are simply beggars.”
“And what are they? Now is not the time for flights of fancy Rebecca. We must get home. There are things to attend to and suitors to discuss. I am sure we have numerous invitations to consider for things in the coming weeks.” Angrily she hit the side of the carriage. “Driver! What is the hold up?”

Rebecca swallowed as she continued to stare out the window. “If I did not know better mother I would say they were dead people walking the streets. It is well....” Her eyes went wide as one of the ‘people’ attacked a woman who had tried to flee from a shop.

Rebecca screamed as the thing began to tear into the woman.

Outside, standing in the street Jonah couldn’t see what was going on on the other side of the carriage but there was obviously a woman inside and something was wrong.

“Blast it! We need to go!” He hitched the woman up in his arms and headed toward the carriage.

The driver yelled down at the group, “They are getting closer we don’t have much time!” The horses stomped the road in nervousness.

Jonah was pleased to see one of the other women and a man follow him to the carriage. He hoped the others would be smart and follow along as well but there was no time to hold their hands.

Quickly he carried the woman to the carriage door and opened it. He deposited the fragile blonde woman from his arms on the floor. He ignored the screeches and exclamations of the others inside. There was no time to worry about their opinion. He climbed inside. Behind him the other woman climbed in.

Rebecca had been staring out the window and she felt slightly sick to her stomach, completely unsure that was she was seeing was real. When the door burst open she was too startled to say anything at first. Her mother on the other hand had no such issue.

“What is the meaning of this! Why...what do you think you are doing? Young man who is this woman? WHY are you in my...” The round woman’s eyes went as large as saucers as more bodies pushed into the cramped space. “Young woman! How dare you!”

Rebecca stared as a man climbed in after placing a pale faced blonde inside and then another woman climbed over her to stare out the window. She had a cane in her hand. She began to yell for them to go.

Her mother’s face was so red, her anger so great that she could no longer find the words that Rebecca almost started laughing at the sight.

The carriage jerked as it set off. The woman with the cane bumped into her mother which made the elder woman even more enraged.

Jonah did his best to right himself and prop the blonde woman up. “Are you alright?” He gently asked her.

Everyone inside stopped and stared as a sound drew their attention. It was a sickening pop and slushing sound as the cane was jabbed into the eye of a ‘person’ that had tried to claw its way inside. The cane was pulled away and as the corpse hit the ground no one said anything.

The woman whimpered and Rebecca’s mother screamed and promptly passed out. Jonah was silent though his heart pounded in fear. What the hell is going on? He wanted to scream it at everyone but he knew that no one here would have answers for him. He looked at the brown haired woman she looked on the verge of tears or laughter, he couldn’t be sure. The blonde still looked pale and though she had just fought off that thing even the other woman looked in shock. He didn’t know who to help first.

Rebecca swallowed back her laughter and the scream that threatened. Her mother’s reaction was enough for everyone. She folded her hands into her lap and willed herself not to break down.

The driver looked at the man who climbed up with him. “I am going to the lady’s residence. You will just have to come along.”

The man seemed to be in shock and he urged the horses forward. They needed little prompting. He pushed them and turned them towards where the woman had yelled at him to go. Mechanically he drove and even plowed over a couple of the things as he drove onward.

The carriage rattled down the cobblestones. Places they passed seemed eerily quiet and one couldn’t be sure if the people were just hiding in their homes or victims.

The driver gave it no thought, in fact he thought of nothing but getting the carriage to its original destination. It was a short drive to a large home. Though not the size of the homes of royalty, clearly the owners had wealth. There was courtyard, complete with a gate. The driver stopped the horses and climbed down to open the gate. It creaked open and he grabbed the reins and walked them inside.

Once in he closed the gate and after searching the mostly deserted streets set the lock bolt in place. He quickly climbed aboard again and without a word drove the carriage to the front walk.

At the sound of the hooves the front door opened and a older man, with a middle aged man at his side came out and down the short set of stairs.

“Thank the lord you are home. Did you encounter tr...” The man paused as he stared at the driver’s companion.

Jonah heard the man’s greeting and threw open the door. He climbed out and began to help the women out.

“What in the Lord’s name is going on? Who are you people and why are you in ’my’ carriage?” Anger showed on his face.

Rebecca took the man’s hand and daintily disembarked from the carriage. “Mother has fainted father.” She was too startled and shaken to say anything else. Her eyes swept over the rest of the group as they climbed out, Jonah helping the women before climbing in to rouse the elder lady.

“You should all come inside.” Rebecca nodded and gestured, her tone the same as if she was asking them to tea.

The carriage was a God-send. Basil let Isabella climb on first as he stood guard with his cane pointed at the shuffling bodies. He was one of the last to climb him and just caught the terrified shriek and fainting of a woman. Basil made no move to help the woman but was now taking the opportunity of safety to look over the odd group that had accumulated.

A fainted old women, a pretty blonde, rough looking young lad, a serious young women, a short odd-looking ruffian ... He lost interest in them quickly and turned again to look out the window.

When they began to move the only sound Basil paid attention to was the slow clip-slop of the horses. He looked out at the streets, he recognized them all and felt a subtle melancholy wash over him. He had never seen the streets so deserted. There were blood stains, still dead bodies but other than that no life. He looked back at the passengers, the strong looking young man was now caring for the young blonde woman.

"Are you all right?"

Basil rearranged his grip on his cane and his attention drifted once again.

The carriage came to a stop and the driver climbed out. He had reached a rather elaborate gate and in a contained-panic left the safety of the carriage to open and close the gate. They drove up a rather fancy drive to the front a reasonably large residence. The owners looked to have some wealth.

As they came to a stop a man had spoken from the house but Basil did not here him. The carriage had now stopped and Basil moved to the side letting the rough looking man who was still helping the young blonde women out the carriage. Basil waited again for other's to leave the carriage before leaving the carriage.

"What in the Lord’s name is going on? Who are you people and why are you in ’my’ carriage?" the man was fuming but was promptly ignored as another women spoke up inviting them all in.

Basil straightened out his suit and looked back to Isabella, she looked to be in perfectly good health apart from her horror-stricken expression and the black stains on her dress. He nodded to her and began to make his way towards the house.

"It would be a pleasure to get inside," Basil smiled up at the house, it looked smart and the inhabits very rich, "Have you any tea? Maybe some scones too."

Basil turned back to the rest of the group, "And of course get that poor old women somewhere to recuperate."

Lena closed her eyes, ready to die right there and then instead of suffering this madness. She knew what her parents had gone through when Ryan died, having experienced it for a shorter amount of time than they did, and now she sympathised with them, knowing well the feeling of having everything she knew ripped away in mere moments.

Screams echoed around her, and Lena wondered if this would be the last memory she had of life. Screams of terror, the world crumbling to ruin, overtaken by creatures that were neither living nor dead. Warm breath descended on her face, and she thought it might be one of them, ready to devour her.

She was proven wrong. A male voice spoke somewhere above her, "Sorry miss, but we can't have you fainting right now." She was lifted off the ground, strong arms supporting her carefully. Lena still felt weak, so she kept her eyes shut, though she made a small sound of protest. "I suggest you get in the carriage and we can see if we can't take one of these side alleys or something."

She felt herself moving, and a minute later she was placed on the floor of something that appeared to be trundling along the roads, a carriage perhaps? Carefully, she eased her eyes open. A young man, not very much older than her, it seemed, was propping her up. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern clear in his eyes. Lena managed a small smile. "I will be, in a few more minutes," she whispered.

A sound that made Lena's skin crawl rang through the carriage. A cane had been pushed into the eye of the - something that had been trying to get into the carriage. Lena's eyes widened, and she jerked backward, instinct telling her to get away from it.

Once it was gone, Lena buried her face in her hands, trying to forget the image. She managed fine for a few minutes, then another memory wormed its way into her mind. A child being torn apart as he cried desperately for help, blood spattering... Lena clapped a hand over her mouth tightly, willing herself not to throw up.

Finally, the carriage stopped. Lena got to her feet, still swaying slightly, and descended carefully from the carriage. She took the hand of the man who had been worried about her earlier. "Thank you," she told him quietly. Staring up at the house which loomed before them, she entered, one of the last.

Throughout their eerily silent journey, Eliza gripped the cane so hard her knuckles were white as she stared out of the window at every alleyway, every townhouse they passed, expecting monsters to erupt from each of them at any moment. Until they reached their destination, she paid little attention to her travelling companions instead transfixed by that square frame of the outside world.

When the carriage did come to a halt, she jumped as she suddenly noticed their lack of movement and was immediately on her guard. But looking out she realised they had passed through the gates of a large townhouse in the heart of Bloomsbury; obviously the home of the original inhabitants of the carriage they had commandeered.

Once there was room, she clambered out of the carriage, ignoring the waiting hand of the man who had swept her rescuer up and carried her to safety; after the events of the last half-hour such etiquette seemed absurd, especially whilst she still gripped the cane she'd used to gouge out the frontal lobe of their would-be attacker.

She also ignored the older man who was loudly objecting to their presence and swept past him up to the steps at the front of the house, following the young woman inside. Although she'd never been inside a private house so lavish, Eliza felt unable to take in much of the grandeur of their surroundings. It was as if she had already reached capacity for the amount of new sensations she was able to take in in one day and everything else was simply spilling out over the sides unheeded. Most of the fear had gone too. Instead, an uncomfortable unsettled tension had replaced it, making her mind race as she considered every unguarded door, window or crevice that might permit entrance into the townhouse.

"Is this place safe?" she said suddenly. "There are walls all around?"

When a person is faced with impending death or other extreme, awful fate, denial is a common reaction. Even as Sam slid down from the carriage and landed on shaky legs, his mind was awash with too many thoughts for him to grasp a single one and try to make sense of it. This can’t be happening, he kept thinking, though clearly it was. Things like this don’t happen to me.

His body seemed to move of its own accord and he stumbled rather gracelessly up the steps and into the grand house they had arrived at. He glanced warily over his shoulder at the gate that surrounded the property as a woman’s voice- what was her name?- voiced exactly what he was thinking.

“Is this place safe?” she asked. “There are walls all around?”

They filed past the outraged owner of the home, Sam bobbing along like a balloon animal on a string, face pale and hands shaking. He looked down and saw that behind them was a faint trail of dirt and blood on the beige carpet laid over the gleaming hardwood. He felt rather out of body looking at those bloody footprints, with neither guilt that he’d likely ruined these people’s rug nor alarm at how the blood had come to be on the soles of his shoes.

The feeling of detached numbness wouldn’t last long and he well knew it. It would only be a matter of time before the shock wore off and gave way to anger or fear or depression. Where could they go? What could they do? Were his friends and coworkers facing the same grim fate? If so, had they been so lucky?

"Have you any tea? Maybe some scones too."

The voice penetrated his thoughts and Sam looked up in shock at the face of the older gentleman. Something inside of him seemed to click, that absurd question dispelling the numbness and bringing something altogether hotter to the surface.

“Tea?” he asked. “Scones? Scones?!”

He wanted to launch himself at the other man, wanted to attack and inflict damage. “Are you out of your mind? Did you not see what happened out there?” The color was rising in his face, turning it from a deathly pallor to the deepening red of anger. He strode forward and grasped the neat lapels of the man’s jacket, clenching the fabric in his fists and pulling the taller, older man close till they were mere inches apart. The absurdity of the man’s question made him as angry as he had been only a few times in his life. “People are being torn apart and you want a cup of tea!”

Rebecca said nothing at first as the group began to follow her inside. Her mind was too busy trying to understand what was going on and the things she had seen. She felt flushed and ill but there were now guests in her home and she would play the part of hostess before all else.

In the courtyard her father was trying to deal with the arrival of the rag tag group of people. He was flustered and red cheeked with anger.

Jonah was helping the elderly woman as she slowly recovered and tried to disembark. Mr Huntington and his man servant rushed to where Lady Huntington was shakily stepping onto the cobblestones.

“What is the meaning of this?” The Lord and Lady conversed in hush whispers.

Jonah turned to the blonde woman. He offered her his arm and escorted the clearly fragile woman inside. She thanked him and Jonah shook his head. “I could not in good conscious leave a woman out there. It was nothing and I am glad to see you are recovering.”

Rebecca walked the length of the entrance hall. There were plush throw rugs under their feet and a maid came to take Rebecca’s shawl. Rebecca waved a hand to indicate the others. “See to our guests coats as well please.”

The young woman turned and faced the group. Her eyes scanned them all, taking in their appearance fully for the first time.



Rebecca looked over the young woman who questioned her about the walls of the manor. She was not much older than Rebecca though they clearly came from two very different worlds. The woman’s features were somewhat severe. Her hair was pinned up and it would have been quite neat and pretty if they had not just gone through such chaos. Now, a few strands had come loose.

Just down the hall two men were arguing. The older gentleman was well dressed. The younger was quite grey and it was difficult on a first look to tell that he was in fact younger. Rebecca had to look closely at his face to see his true age.

The door was closed as a final pair and her parents entered the house. The pretty blonde was being escorted and watched by the man who had burst into their carriage. He was responsible for these people now being in her parent’s home.

Rebecca’s hands folded in front of her as she stood straight backed. Her eyes went to the first woman. “Yes there are stone walls surrounding the whole manor house. There is the front gate for guests and a small side gate for the servants.”

Rebecca took a deep breath and tried to stifle the bile that was rising in her throat.

“Perhaps we should retire to the parlour and sit.” Her eyes fell on the two arguing men. She was doing her best to stay calm and not panic. Panic was unbecoming in a young lady and in a hostess.

Her father was flustered still, her mother pale and complaining. One maid was joined by another as they stared wide eyed at the group, unsure if they should try and take coats or canes. One maid was eyeing the implements in disgust. Rebecca realized there was blood and other fluids on the canes. Her hand went to her mouth, her stomach lurching momentarily.

“I think it best if we sit. Tea to calm our stomachs and some conversation about what is occurring.”

She turned and walked down the rest of the hall. She entered a room on her right. Rebecca paused just inside the doorway and waited for her guests. The parlour contained plush chairs and settee. Paintings and bookcases lined the walls. She gestured to them to enter and waited patiently.

What she wanted to do was run and hide in her room but she could not leave her parents to handle the group.

Jonah stayed quiet. He watched the pair of men argue, understanding the fear and frustration. He kept his focus on the blonde. With a gesture towards the parlour he waited for her to pass by him. He approached the men.

“We should try and calm down. I don’t know what is going on but we must be strong for the women, we must protect them.”

Jonah moved to the parlour. “I have heard stories but I didn’t imagine that...”

Rebecca shook her head. “I have been away I do not know anything that is going on. Do you know what those things are? I would welcome someone to explain what has been going on if that is possible.”

"Break what?" the man began pulling on Basil's lapels.
"Perhaps we should retire to the parlour and sit," spoke a women in a clear voice, at that the man let go of Basil and backed away. His eyes bore into Basil - seething with rage before he turned to follow the young lady.

Basil's hands shook slightly as he smoothed his jacket and took a deep breath. His older body could not deal with rage like he used to. Basil followed the rag-tag group into the parlour where he waited briefly for the women to find their seats before sitting himself on a plump armchair just off in the corner. The angry, short man stood on the edges of the room with a mean expression as his eyes passed over the rest of the group. He lingered on a moment at the young women who had spoken earlier and Basil made his own assessment of her - she appeared fine and upstanding but with an alarmingly fierce expression for a young women.

"“I’d ‘eard stories about some virus and the people going crazy," spoke the man in a harsh, ugly accent “But those people back there, they didn’t look sick. They looked dead.”

Silence fell on the group for a moment and Basil tried to think of what to say. He pushes away his first thoughts and tried to find something more reasonable to say; perhaps he should insult the man's obvious lack of education, maybe his dirtiness ... No. Basil had taken an instant dislike to the man but he could never make such idiotic comments to simply hide his fear. No sick - or even living for that matter - man could survive being torn in half. He returned to his invasive thoughts. He could personally see no further explanation. Basil stopped his panicking thoughts as a young servant wandered in holding a silver tray with a beautiful china tea set. The smell of freshly brewed Early Grey was enough to distract Basil's thoughts from the eerie silence that now took over the group.

Basil leant forwards and poured himself some tea in an attempt to calm his stomach. His hand began to shake ferociously but he quickly held it still, hoping no-one would notice and begin pity him for his age. He quickly wiped the splash of tea and took a long drink of the piping hot drink. He cleared is throat and set down the tea cup this time he managed to control his shaking long enough to set it down. He could feel his nerves and stomach begin to calm and the hot drink worked it's way through his body.

"I do belief our little gamin here is correct and," Basil began," The sick we could easily heal but this ..."
He cleared his throat then spoke in a clear voice as though he were dictating:
"Many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life," he pauses, "some to everlasting contempt."

He leant back with a sigh, he closed his eyes and let that sink in mainly for his benefit rather than the other's. This is it. We are facing the end times. The fact he was still here gave Basil a moment to pause, he had spent his life believing he was one of those who God Himself would choose to save. He never thought he would see this. Hell on earth.

In the moment of clarity (to Basil's mind atleast) he saw nothing to look forward to but a quiet death and some tea.