Sam Hoxworth's Story

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.

Fear rising into her throat like a tide, Eliza swung her legs over the edge, looking desperately for a foothold from which she could let herself down. Around her the street had descended into chaos; the omnibus had hit another carriage on the other side of the street as it had overturned, scattering its contents over the stones. One of the other horses had broken loose from its harness and was snorting and kicking, wild-eyed, on the pavement as passers-by ran out of its path. There were at least half a dozen people discernible lying in the street amongst the wreckage, one or two moving or trying to stand, the others lifeless.

Below, a woman called out something Eliza didn't catch, though the meaning and that of her outstretched hands, was obvious. Taking a deep breath, she was about to let herself slide down the side of omnibus when she realised what was beneath her and what she would land on if she were to let herself fall. There, in the shadow of the bulk of the vehicle, was a man and he was shouting for help.

"I- Alright, just-" she managed to call down to him, shuffling along the side of omnibus so she could slide down without landing on top of him. With the arms of the woman below to steady her, Eliza landed on the cobbles with only the smallest of stumbles.

"Thank you," she breathed to her rescuer, before turning to where the man lay on the ground next to them. Crouching down beside him, she ducked her head to see what had pinned him to the floor, hastily sweeping away tears from her eyes with the back of her gloved hand. What she could see of his leg was red-raw and trapped beneath one of the metal bars screwed to the side of the omnibus that the conductor would use to steady himself on the back step as it pulled away from the curb. If only the whole thing could be shifted a foot or so to the right then the bar would be off his leg and he would be able to slip out from under the bus.

It was difficult, trying to block out the screams and the smell of blood that she knew was coming the back of her own head and the carnage around her in order to think clearly about what to do...

She stood up straight but before she could say anything, a scream caught in her throat at what she saw a few yards away. A thing, half a thing, almost a human, dragging itself along the pavement leaving a sickening trail in its wake. She recoiled, staggering back against the omnibus, hand going to her mouth as ugly sobs erupted from between her lips. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. This morning must be a nightmare she had not yet woken up from.

The coloured woman who had just appeared could not be real either. Neither were the blood stains that spattered her skirt as she caved the thing's head in with the efficiency of a fishwife thwacking the life out of an ailing trout. As she approached them, Eliza could not help but stare at those little black-red splatters on the woman's apron; she barely comprehended what she was saying to them until the man still trapped beneath the bus shifted in pain and it was suddenly as if she'd been doused in cold water.

"I know- I know what we can do," she said, steadying herself. "Get back from the bus, stand back!"

Clumsily, one hand on the omnibus so she could support her legs which felt as if they might give way at any moment, she picked her way through the debris to where the horses were still harnessed to the front of the vehicle, on its side though it was. Glancing around her for some weapon, her gaze alighted on a man's cane, discarded in the middle of the street.

"Go!" she screamed at the horses, her voice cracking. "Get! Just go!" With all her might, she swung the cane at the backside of the nearest horse and felt it impact against the hard muscle of its rump. It neighed and reared, flecks of froth flying from its mouth. She struck it again and its harness-mate caught on, hooves scrabbling against the cobbles as the two animals strained at their leather binds in panic. Behind them, the omnibus shifted, metal shrieking along the stone. With a final wordless yell, Eliza struck the horse one last time and with a gargantuan effort the pair succeeded in pulling the omnibus forward at least a foot and a half.

Ducking away out of the wrath of the horses, Eliza returned to see if they had freed the man lying in the shadows, hoping she had not simply shorn off his leg instead.



Down the alleyway from which Basil Granger had been diverted by his servant, decaying feet shuffled and tripped their way between narrow brick walls, broken fingernails grasping for a meal that was so close their owners could smell it...

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.

All around them the streets were in chaos. People were trying to flee from the grey-faced, almost human monsters that had flooded the area. Sam stared at one of the monsters in shock, his eyes darting over the sagging flesh, the rotting, dirt encrusted garments. The man’s complexion was dull, pale and bloodless, and though the mouth and eyes moved, the animation seemed to lack any thought. It was as if he was being motivated only by some sort of primal urge, not brain activity.

These people are dead, realized Sam. He’d buried thousands of people, and these... things.... were nothing but rotting corpses.

"I do not wish to alarm anyone," said the older gentleman with the cane, his voice quaking. " but we need to move.”

Sam nodded in vague agreement, tearing his eyes away from the sight of a young boy’s intestines being ripped from his belly. He felt bile rising in his throat, but there was a cold numbness taking over him.

Hooves beat on the cobblestones loudly as a carriage drew closer, heading right into the chaos. A man was running with the reins of the horses in his hands, leading it closer to Sam and the people who had stopped to aid him. Sam turned and looked down the path the carriage was headed toward and the sight made his stomach lurch. The once clear path was filling with the hungry dead, blocking the way the man had surely been intending to take. More dead were closing in behind the man and the little coach, making it impossible to turn back.

Get out, you reckless fool, thought Sam, mute. Don’t be a hero. These corpses will turn that coach over as easily as they did the bus.

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."

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!”

Basil followed the group into the house. He was distracted as he wandered in, admiring some portraits hanging on the walls and doing his best to get the image of that child's throat being ripped - Basil took a deep breath and returned to admiring the house. Attempting to replace the young man's voice box hanging out with that of the comely woman in one of the portraits. The thought of fresh tea and buttered scones helped as well.

"Tea!" Basil turned at the voice and smiled, expecting to be shown to a seat but instead he saw the man who was earlier stuck under the carriage move straight towards him.
"Not a tea p-"
"Scones? Scones!" the man strode towards Basil with fury in his eyes.

"Are you out of your mind? Did you not see what happened out there?" he grabbed Basil by the collar, his grimy nails scrunching up his collar.

Basil was fuming. He looked at the man as though he were a pile of manure, his face pulled into a grimace. He did not immediately move to violence but he wanted to. He could feel the same anger and excitement building as when he was about to box. His grip tightened on his cane, he could picture punching him in the gut and the man's feeble apologies.

"Unhand me now ..." Basil spoke in a whisper barely containing his sudden anger.

"People are being torn apart and you want a cup of tea!" The man's grimy teeth flashed before him as he pulled Basil in closer, there faces so close Basil could see all the dirty little dots on his face.

"Unhand me now!" Basil roared in the man's face, spitting with fury,"Now you piece of filth or so help me I will break -"

Basil bit his tongue and just glared at the man. He felt his feeble attempt at keeping calm just slipping away with his only thought being how hard he wants to punch this man.

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.”

Anger flared in Sam’s eyes, narrowed to slits as he looked up his long, straight nose at the other man. The fabric of the old man’s collar was scrunched so tightly in either fist that his knuckles were white. The old man’s voice was a threatening whisper, perhaps to contain the episode to the close circle in which the two of them stood, rather than involving the others. Sam had no such considerations.

"Unhand me now!" The whisper became a roar that seemed to penetrate the deep quiet of the manse. Each word was spoken with the clear, educated tone of a man wealthier than he would ever be, but Sam was glad to see that at least the calm facade the well-dressed man had been maintaining was finally shattered. "Now you piece of filth or so help me I will break -"

“Break what?” interrupted Sam angrily, shaking the other man by his lapels.

The brown haired woman had insinuated herself nearby and Sam could see from the corner of his eye as she took in the quickly escalating confrontation. “Perhaps we should retire to the parlour and sit.” Her voice rang like a bell through the foyer, but Sam didn’t turn to look at her. He gave the older man a contemptuous stare and released him, but there was a look in his eyes that spoke volumes. We’re not through here.

He didn’t belong here, Sam thought, hanging back. His stained, calloused hands were shoved deeply into the pockets of his best and only suit, subconsciously hiding his dirty fingernails and the bony joints that had evolved from years of digging graves. Even in his good coat, with his gray hair slicked smartly to the side, he looked like a pauper next to the rest. It would be best to part ways with them as soon as possible, he decided. He looked at the brown haired girl and made a quick assessment. Used to getting her way, he decided, judging from the way she naturally asserted herself within the group. Whatever was going on out there, she and her family would probably think they could buy their way out.

“I’d ‘eard stories about some virus and the people going crazy,” said Sam, leaning against one of the pillars supporting the arched entryway into the room they’d entered. “But those people back there, they didn’t look sick. They looked dead.”

"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.