Setting
Colonial superpower, green and pleasant zombie-infested land.
Minimap
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United Kingdom is a part of 
The Necropolis.
8 Characters Here
Basil Granger [26] Proud, blunt and old.
Sam Hoxworth [24] The jolly gravedigger
Elizabeth Milton [22] A brilliant emotionally-incontinent suffragette with a penchant for the headshot
Lena A. St. Catherine [17] "...The undead?"
Isabella Turnio [15] Sir, dinner is served.
Jonah Powell [12] Dock worker, boxer
Rebecca Huntington [11] High society woman
Maurice Barrington [0] A devoted young gunsmith, whom constantly seeks the impossible ...
Start Character Here »
- 32 posts here • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2
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.
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.
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.
Lena A. St. Catherine
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?"
Herodotus once said, The destiny of man is in his own soul. As for Isabella, it is her own actions that determine her fate but she has to admit- there are some things that fate chooses that end in a different turn. For example, her mindless habit of opening the window whenever she rides with her Master. It has been a ritual thing for her to do whenever she boards a public transportation and as of the moment she was glad she did, if she hadn't she wouldn't have survived what ever it was happening on the streets.
As soon as the omnibus flipped on its side, her reflexes worked for the best as Isabella quickly held on the iron wrought and managed to pull herself out. Everyone was shouting, panicking, cries for help and cries from the horses filled the air. But even before she occupied herself with the safety of strangers, she did her best to look for her master, Mr. Granger.
Her hands were aching from having to hold on the iron wrought, her palms red from the pressure but she managed to stand up from the ground. As she took her first steps, she felt a warm liquid trickling from her forehead. She wiped it with the back of her hand, she usually didn't bother to look at her sweat but a voice inside her head told her to look at the warm liquid on her skin. It was dark red and thick, there was blood. She panicked but was quickly calmed as she realized that it was just a small cut on her forehead, nothing she can't work with. Mr. Granger needs her, she can just clean the wound afterwards.
And as the throng of people moved away from the commotion, Isabella was making her way against them. Pushing against the people as she shouted for Basil's name, "Mr. Granger! Where are you?! Mr. Granger?!"
She then heard another piercing shout from inside the public transportation. She looked sideways and found a man eating the entrails of another, her breakfast almost escaped her stomach as the wretching scene happened in a few good 20 feet from her.
Then the unexpected happened, it was her employer who approached the abomination. He looked afraid yet almost fearless as he slowly walked from behind the monster. That's the only way she can explain what the man looked like- a monster.
"Mr. Granger! No!" She called out yet he wasn't able to hear her. "Mr. Granger!" She tried to call out again but he looked determined to see what was happening. Isabella didn't want to see what was going to happen so she closed her eyes tightly as she heard a loud thud. She opened her eyes to see that Basil had punctured the monster's torso. Isabella heard her self gasp at the turn of events. She felt sick but she must go and help her master. She half run and half walked as she headed towards Mr. Granger when a bigger shock sent her spine chilling. The mutilated body seemed to be still moving, but why?
Isabella didn't really have any formal education but she was able to read and was luckier than any other house helpers but with everything that has transpired she felt that she barely knows anything that has been going on in the world right now. And even before the monster could reach Mr. Granger she quickly grabbed a huge metal rail, ran from behind her master and quickly smashed the monster's head with all her might. Years of whacking firewood gave Isabella the strength and she was glad she acted out of instincts as the monster squirmed then lay motionless with its smashed head on the concrete road. There were a few blood that has splattered on her skirt but luckily none on her skin.
She dropped the other end of the iron, causing it to clang hard as she rushed towards her master who's chest was heaving, "Mr. Granger, are you alright sir?" She couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He was old and well it wasn't exactly a secret that his children left him early. If there was one person who seems oblivious of it, it would be Mr. Granger himself.
"Oh my Lord, what is that thing?!" She looked from behind her, to see that the monster still lay motionless this time. It reminded her greatly of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.
As soon as the omnibus flipped on its side, her reflexes worked for the best as Isabella quickly held on the iron wrought and managed to pull herself out. Everyone was shouting, panicking, cries for help and cries from the horses filled the air. But even before she occupied herself with the safety of strangers, she did her best to look for her master, Mr. Granger.
Her hands were aching from having to hold on the iron wrought, her palms red from the pressure but she managed to stand up from the ground. As she took her first steps, she felt a warm liquid trickling from her forehead. She wiped it with the back of her hand, she usually didn't bother to look at her sweat but a voice inside her head told her to look at the warm liquid on her skin. It was dark red and thick, there was blood. She panicked but was quickly calmed as she realized that it was just a small cut on her forehead, nothing she can't work with. Mr. Granger needs her, she can just clean the wound afterwards.
And as the throng of people moved away from the commotion, Isabella was making her way against them. Pushing against the people as she shouted for Basil's name, "Mr. Granger! Where are you?! Mr. Granger?!"
She then heard another piercing shout from inside the public transportation. She looked sideways and found a man eating the entrails of another, her breakfast almost escaped her stomach as the wretching scene happened in a few good 20 feet from her.
Then the unexpected happened, it was her employer who approached the abomination. He looked afraid yet almost fearless as he slowly walked from behind the monster. That's the only way she can explain what the man looked like- a monster.
"Mr. Granger! No!" She called out yet he wasn't able to hear her. "Mr. Granger!" She tried to call out again but he looked determined to see what was happening. Isabella didn't want to see what was going to happen so she closed her eyes tightly as she heard a loud thud. She opened her eyes to see that Basil had punctured the monster's torso. Isabella heard her self gasp at the turn of events. She felt sick but she must go and help her master. She half run and half walked as she headed towards Mr. Granger when a bigger shock sent her spine chilling. The mutilated body seemed to be still moving, but why?
Isabella didn't really have any formal education but she was able to read and was luckier than any other house helpers but with everything that has transpired she felt that she barely knows anything that has been going on in the world right now. And even before the monster could reach Mr. Granger she quickly grabbed a huge metal rail, ran from behind her master and quickly smashed the monster's head with all her might. Years of whacking firewood gave Isabella the strength and she was glad she acted out of instincts as the monster squirmed then lay motionless with its smashed head on the concrete road. There were a few blood that has splattered on her skirt but luckily none on her skin.
She dropped the other end of the iron, causing it to clang hard as she rushed towards her master who's chest was heaving, "Mr. Granger, are you alright sir?" She couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He was old and well it wasn't exactly a secret that his children left him early. If there was one person who seems oblivious of it, it would be Mr. Granger himself.
"Oh my Lord, what is that thing?!" She looked from behind her, to see that the monster still lay motionless this time. It reminded her greatly of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.
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.
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 manâs 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, ÂŁ1 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. âOh... Well, how nice. Such a necessary profession, isnât it? Yes, yes. Quite.â 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.
âStop, stop,â 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. âIâm trapped,â he said in a panicky tone. âPlease, youâve got to... Please, find someone who can help me.â
A woman couldnât 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?
The manâs 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, ÂŁ1 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. âOh... Well, how nice. Such a necessary profession, isnât it? Yes, yes. Quite.â 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.
âStop, stop,â 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. âIâm trapped,â he said in a panicky tone. âPlease, youâve got to... Please, find someone who can help me.â
A woman couldnât 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.
âPlease, youâve got to... Please, find someone who can help me.â 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.
"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.
âPlease, youâve got to... Please, find someone who can help me.â 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...
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 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. âNo, itâs not that bad,â he insisted in a pained gasp. âIâm just... Just stuck.â
He didnât 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 didnât 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.
âThank you, Miss,â 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. âThat was good think-â
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 Samâs 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 Samâs 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 womanâs 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.
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. âNo, itâs not that bad,â he insisted in a pained gasp. âIâm just... Just stuck.â
He didnât 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 didnât 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.
âThank you, Miss,â 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. âThat was good think-â
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 Samâs 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 Samâs 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 womanâs 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.
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 windowâs 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.
âWhat in the world is going on?â Her mother moved around in her seat, kicking Rebecca.
âOw! Mother, do be careful please.â Rebecca rubbed her leg through her dress. âWhatever in the world are you doing? Why are we stopped?â
Her motherâs rather round body moved upward and towards the door. She opened it and the sound of screams were carried into the carriage and to Rebeccaâs ears. The woman paled and pressed a handkerchief to her nose.
âWhy are we stopped? Driver, answer me.â
âMaâam there was an accident I cannot go anywhere at the moment.â He made a noise that sounded as if he had swallowed his tongue. âThe good lord what is that?â
âI do not care what is going on find a way to get us around!â
âMaâam for the sake of all you hold dear please close the door.â
Rebecca could hear that something was wrong with the driver, something in his voice sent chills down her spine. âMother, mother do what he asks something is not right.â She could not see anything out the window.
Her motherâs bulk shifted, she huffed and closed the door. âThis is absurd.â
Rebecca raised her handkerchief once again to her nose. âEverything will be fine I am sure mother.â 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 âtonicâ. 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.
âHere! Over here! Run this way! Quickly get in that carriage!â Jonah waved at them. A few women and a couple of men it appeared at a quick glance. âCome on!â
He ran towards the horses and grabbed the reins near the one horses mouth. âGet turned around we got to get out of here.â
The driver shook his head, âWhat are you doing?â
Jonah gave the man a confused look, âHelping to save their and your lives.â He pulled the horses, make them begin to turn.
Rebecca felt the carriage lurch. Her mother grunted, âGood. Enough of this nonsense.â
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. âCome on! Donât stand there not moving! Canât you see they are coming closer.â He didnât pause to think too hard on what or who âtheyâ 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 âRun!â
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 windowâs 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.
âWhat in the world is going on?â Her mother moved around in her seat, kicking Rebecca.
âOw! Mother, do be careful please.â Rebecca rubbed her leg through her dress. âWhatever in the world are you doing? Why are we stopped?â
Her motherâs rather round body moved upward and towards the door. She opened it and the sound of screams were carried into the carriage and to Rebeccaâs ears. The woman paled and pressed a handkerchief to her nose.
âWhy are we stopped? Driver, answer me.â
âMaâam there was an accident I cannot go anywhere at the moment.â He made a noise that sounded as if he had swallowed his tongue. âThe good lord what is that?â
âI do not care what is going on find a way to get us around!â
âMaâam for the sake of all you hold dear please close the door.â
Rebecca could hear that something was wrong with the driver, something in his voice sent chills down her spine. âMother, mother do what he asks something is not right.â She could not see anything out the window.
Her motherâs bulk shifted, she huffed and closed the door. âThis is absurd.â
Rebecca raised her handkerchief once again to her nose. âEverything will be fine I am sure mother.â 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 âtonicâ. 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.
âHere! Over here! Run this way! Quickly get in that carriage!â Jonah waved at them. A few women and a couple of men it appeared at a quick glance. âCome on!â
He ran towards the horses and grabbed the reins near the one horses mouth. âGet turned around we got to get out of here.â
The driver shook his head, âWhat are you doing?â
Jonah gave the man a confused look, âHelping to save their and your lives.â He pulled the horses, make them begin to turn.
Rebecca felt the carriage lurch. Her mother grunted, âGood. Enough of this nonsense.â
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. âCome on! Donât stand there not moving! Canât you see they are coming closer.â He didnât pause to think too hard on what or who âtheyâ 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 âRun!â
Lena A. St. Catherine
"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.
"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 manâs 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. Heâd 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.â
Sam nodded in vague agreement, tearing his eyes away from the sight of a young boyâs 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. Donât be a hero. These corpses will turn that coach over as easily as they did the bus.
These people are dead, realized Sam. Heâd 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.â
Sam nodded in vague agreement, tearing his eyes away from the sight of a young boyâs 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. Donât 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.
âCome on! Get in the carriage and maybe we can make a break out of here!â 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. âTake this and we are going to have to bolt as soon as I get these people to move!â
The driver nodded but looked over his shoulder. âI donât know where you think we are going to go to...we seem to be...surrounded...â
Jonah turned and sneered, âI donât bloody know but we canât stay here!â He ran towards the woman. He approached her, âSorry miss but we canât have you fainting right now.â
Strong arms scooped her up in a tight basket carry. âI suggest you get in the carriage and we can see if we canât take one of these side alleys or something.â
He looked at the group waiting to see if they would follow or had a better plan.
In the carriage, Rebeccaâs mother was beyond flustered and annoyed. âWhy have we stopped? This is ludacris!â 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. âMy but those people look unwell.â A slight frown wrinkled her pretty face.
âYes, 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.â
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 couldnât 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.
âMother, I do not think they are simply beggars.â
âAnd 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.â Angrily she hit the side of the carriage. âDriver! What is the hold up?â
Rebecca swallowed as she continued to stare out the window. âIf I did not know better mother I would say they were dead people walking the streets. It is well....â Her eyes went wide as one of the âpeopleâ 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 couldnât see what was going on on the other side of the carriage but there was obviously a woman inside and something was wrong.
âBlast it! We need to go!â He hitched the woman up in his arms and headed toward the carriage.
The driver yelled down at the group, âThey are getting closer we donât have much time!â The horses stomped the road in nervousness.
âCome on! Get in the carriage and maybe we can make a break out of here!â 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. âTake this and we are going to have to bolt as soon as I get these people to move!â
The driver nodded but looked over his shoulder. âI donât know where you think we are going to go to...we seem to be...surrounded...â
Jonah turned and sneered, âI donât bloody know but we canât stay here!â He ran towards the woman. He approached her, âSorry miss but we canât have you fainting right now.â
Strong arms scooped her up in a tight basket carry. âI suggest you get in the carriage and we can see if we canât take one of these side alleys or something.â
He looked at the group waiting to see if they would follow or had a better plan.
In the carriage, Rebeccaâs mother was beyond flustered and annoyed. âWhy have we stopped? This is ludacris!â 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. âMy but those people look unwell.â A slight frown wrinkled her pretty face.
âYes, 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.â
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 couldnât 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.
âMother, I do not think they are simply beggars.â
âAnd 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.â Angrily she hit the side of the carriage. âDriver! What is the hold up?â
Rebecca swallowed as she continued to stare out the window. âIf I did not know better mother I would say they were dead people walking the streets. It is well....â Her eyes went wide as one of the âpeopleâ 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 couldnât see what was going on on the other side of the carriage but there was obviously a woman inside and something was wrong.
âBlast it! We need to go!â He hitched the woman up in his arms and headed toward the carriage.
The driver yelled down at the group, âThey are getting closer we donât have much time!â The horses stomped the road in nervousness.
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Tears silently tracking down her cheeks, Eliza kept a tight grip on the arm of the man who had been trapped under the omnibus, her fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeve, her other hand still clutching the cane she'd picked up earlier. She was too terrified to sob any more, as if some primeval instinct intended to keep her wits intact enough to stand a chance of survival had kicked in, and all she could do was scan the scene wildly, exquisitely attuned to the multitude of bewildering sights and sounds that were erupting around her. It was surreal. She might have been gazing at a picture or reading a Penny Dreadful, her higher consciousness was so little engaged. No, it was a deeper more primitive self that had taken charge now; a follicle-raising, startle-jumping, gut-clenching self. And it wanted to live and go on living.
When the opportunity for an escape presented itself, she didn't hesitate. She tugged the man's sleeve sharply in the direction of the coach before letting go and climbing hurriedly inside after their rescuer and the woman who'd helped her down from the roof. It was already cramped inside and she unceremoniously clambered across a young well-dressed woman with brown hair and her more elderly companion, squeezing into a space next to the window. The things on the other side of the coach were occupied by something (more likely, someone) she could not see on the pavement but she raised the cane, ready to jab anything that tried to pry its way inside.
"Go!" she cried up to the driver, once everyone was inside or on top of the carriage. "There's an alleyway on the left! Down Brownslow Mews!"
With a shudder, they set off with unexpected speed, the horses needing little encouragement to get away from the street as soon as possible. The carriage jarred, and almost rolled off its wheels as a few of the things were trampled underfoot by the horses. Eliza, thrown back against the cushions (and into the elderly lady to her right) lunged at the window frame to steady herself just in time to aim a sharp jab at another who had caught up with them as they turned the corner into the alleyway. She whimpered as the tip of the cane went through its eye socket and hurriedly pulled her weapon back as the thing crumpled to the ground below the window.
Out in front of them, the narrow terraced street was empty and she felt her heart lift. But only a little.
When the opportunity for an escape presented itself, she didn't hesitate. She tugged the man's sleeve sharply in the direction of the coach before letting go and climbing hurriedly inside after their rescuer and the woman who'd helped her down from the roof. It was already cramped inside and she unceremoniously clambered across a young well-dressed woman with brown hair and her more elderly companion, squeezing into a space next to the window. The things on the other side of the coach were occupied by something (more likely, someone) she could not see on the pavement but she raised the cane, ready to jab anything that tried to pry its way inside.
"Go!" she cried up to the driver, once everyone was inside or on top of the carriage. "There's an alleyway on the left! Down Brownslow Mews!"
With a shudder, they set off with unexpected speed, the horses needing little encouragement to get away from the street as soon as possible. The carriage jarred, and almost rolled off its wheels as a few of the things were trampled underfoot by the horses. Eliza, thrown back against the cushions (and into the elderly lady to her right) lunged at the window frame to steady herself just in time to aim a sharp jab at another who had caught up with them as they turned the corner into the alleyway. She whimpered as the tip of the cane went through its eye socket and hurriedly pulled her weapon back as the thing crumpled to the ground below the window.
Out in front of them, the narrow terraced street was empty and she felt her heart lift. But only a little.
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"My god," breathed Sam, wide-eyed as he looked at the massacre that was happening all around them. He was perched precariously beside the driver, hanging on tightly to the side rail with the crook of one elbow. "What are these things?" he muttered to himself.
His normally good-natured grin was replaced by grim shock. He turned in his seat to look into the carriage at the crowded occupants. "We ought to find some place to barricade ourselves. I'm sure this will all be sorted soon and we just need to ride it out."
He tried to speak with confidence but his tone was oddly flat. "My house is back where we just came from, otherwise I'd offer you all a place. Perhaps we can find a shop or an acquaintance who's nearby that will let us in."
His normally good-natured grin was replaced by grim shock. He turned in his seat to look into the carriage at the crowded occupants. "We ought to find some place to barricade ourselves. I'm sure this will all be sorted soon and we just need to ride it out."
He tried to speak with confidence but his tone was oddly flat. "My house is back where we just came from, otherwise I'd offer you all a place. Perhaps we can find a shop or an acquaintance who's nearby that will let us in."
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.
âWhat is the meaning of this! Why...what do you think you are doing? Young man who is this woman? WHY are you in my...â The round womanâs eyes went as large as saucers as more bodies pushed into the cramped space. âYoung woman! How dare you!â
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 motherâs 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. âAre you alright?â 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 âpersonâ 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 Rebeccaâs 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 couldnât be sure. The blonde still looked pale and though she had just fought off that thing even the other woman looked in shock. He didnât know who to help first.
Rebecca swallowed back her laughter and the scream that threatened. Her motherâs 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. âI am going to the ladyâs residence. You will just have to come along.â
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 couldnât 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.
âThank the lord you are home. Did you encounter tr...â The man paused as he stared at the driverâs companion.
Jonah heard the manâs greeting and threw open the door. He climbed out and began to help the women out.
âWhat in the Lordâs name is going on? Who are you people and why are you in âmyâ carriage?â Anger showed on his face.
Rebecca took the manâs hand and daintily disembarked from the carriage. âMother has fainted father.â 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.
âYou should all come inside.â Rebecca nodded and gestured, her tone the same as if she was asking them to tea.
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.
âWhat is the meaning of this! Why...what do you think you are doing? Young man who is this woman? WHY are you in my...â The round womanâs eyes went as large as saucers as more bodies pushed into the cramped space. âYoung woman! How dare you!â
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 motherâs 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. âAre you alright?â 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 âpersonâ 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 Rebeccaâs 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 couldnât be sure. The blonde still looked pale and though she had just fought off that thing even the other woman looked in shock. He didnât know who to help first.
Rebecca swallowed back her laughter and the scream that threatened. Her motherâs 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. âI am going to the ladyâs residence. You will just have to come along.â
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 couldnât 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.
âThank the lord you are home. Did you encounter tr...â The man paused as he stared at the driverâs companion.
Jonah heard the manâs greeting and threw open the door. He climbed out and began to help the women out.
âWhat in the Lordâs name is going on? Who are you people and why are you in âmyâ carriage?â Anger showed on his face.
Rebecca took the manâs hand and daintily disembarked from the carriage. âMother has fainted father.â 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.
âYou should all come inside.â 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 Lordâs name is going on? Who are you people and why are you in âmyâ 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."
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 Lordâs name is going on? Who are you people and why are you in âmyâ 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 A. St. Catherine
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 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 canât be happening, he kept thinking, though clearly it was. Things like this donât 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 womanâs voice- what was her name?- voiced exactly what he was thinking.
âIs this place safe?â she asked. âThere are walls all around?â
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 heâd likely ruined these peopleâs rug nor alarm at how the blood had come to be on the soles of his shoes.
The feeling of detached numbness wouldnât 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.
âTea?â he asked. âScones? Scones?!â
He wanted to launch himself at the other man, wanted to attack and inflict damage. âAre you out of your mind? Did you not see what happened out there?â 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 manâs jacket, clenching the fabric in his fists and pulling the taller, older man close till they were mere inches apart. The absurdity of the manâs question made him as angry as he had been only a few times in his life. âPeople are being torn apart and you want a cup of tea!â
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 womanâs voice- what was her name?- voiced exactly what he was thinking.
âIs this place safe?â she asked. âThere are walls all around?â
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 heâd likely ruined these peopleâs rug nor alarm at how the blood had come to be on the soles of his shoes.
The feeling of detached numbness wouldnât 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.
âTea?â he asked. âScones? Scones?!â
He wanted to launch himself at the other man, wanted to attack and inflict damage. âAre you out of your mind? Did you not see what happened out there?â 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 manâs jacket, clenching the fabric in his fists and pulling the taller, older man close till they were mere inches apart. The absurdity of the manâs question made him as angry as he had been only a few times in his life. âPeople are being torn apart and you want a cup of tea!â
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.
"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.
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