Sunday 12 August 2007

Surrounded by a Blackened City.

Moving in the shadows at the water's edge, Steve and the others crept quietly, trying to avoid the sweeping arc lights that illuminated the stretch of beach. What had once been lit up by a million different coloured bulbs was now only shown up the huge lights from the military.
Blackpool was a charred and deserted ruin, meltaed and twisted metal forming strange shapes that seemed to be almost alien in nature, reflecting the powerful lights.
An engine could be heard out to sea, low and throaty, the powerful rumble of the Navy's shore patrol boat, not something anyone might have ever expected to see along the British coastline before the Incident.
A light appeared on the boat, sweeping along the shore. The group ducked down into a small groove and the light passed above them. The military were very stricty about people in the Disaster Zone, they had heard gunshots of several occasions now. Whether shooting to kill, woud or warn, they didn't know and weren't keen to find out.
Steve turned to the others "I don't think there's a way out this way either."
There was a shaking of heads, this had been their last plan. Eight of them had found each other in the ruins of the town. Calling out for help, they were each barely touched by the fire and none of them knew why. Steve had been playing on a fruit machine in one of the arcades. Jessica had actually been on the ground floor of the Tower, the focal point for the conflagration, and yet she had been unharmed. Trevor and Jacob had both been in their respective hotels, no-where near each other. Max had been getting a fish and chip dinner from one of the local chippies. The other three wouldn't speak, al in shock, they hadn't even told the others their names.


As they slipped back into the dark rubble that had once been Britain's premier sea side resort town, Max slipped on something in the dark. With a barely suppressed yell of surprise, he fell headlong into a crevice. The heat had cracked the ground in places and the whole area seemed to shift under their feet at times.
Putting his hand out to stop his headlong fall, he saw the jagged edge of something metal hutling towards him. The twisted metal spike puched straight through his hand and this time his cry was not held back. Ripping his hand off the spike as soon as he could he sat cradling the wounded appendage, feeling the blood run freely down his arm.
Steve and Trevor scrambled down after him.
"Let me see your hand." Trevor was a nurse.
Max held his blood covered hand out, thinking he must be heading into shock as the pain barely registered now.
Trevor wiped the blood away then gave Max a puzzled look. "Where did all the blood come from?"
"The big fucking hole in my hand. Where did you think?"
Trevor held Max's hand up in the light, there was no hole, no wound, no sign that a metal spike had just been slammed through it.
"What the hell? I put that spike there through my hand."
The three men shared a worried look.
"We'll talk about this later. Right now, we've got to get away from here, you shouted loud enough for others to hear." Steve hauled Max to his feet and they made their way out.

Half an hour later, the eight of them were hiding in the black ruins of what must have once been a hotel. Where most buildings had been reduced to nothing more than slag, occasional buildings had survived enough to leave a place where they could shelter comfortably. This place was their regular safety spot, it had a basement where canned food had been stored and they were able to eat decently there.
"I don't understand. How could you have put a spike through your hand and not have an injury?" Jessica asked.
"Dunno. How could we have all survived mostly unhurt in the largest fire in Britain since sixteen sixty six?"
"That kind of thing happens all the time." Jessica argued, "People are always escaping unscathed for accidents."
While they argued about the likelihood of survival against some sort of spontaneous healing, none of them noticed that one of the three mute people, a tall, sandy haired man, pick up a jagged pice of stone. He looked at it in a thoughtful manner, before shrugging his shoulders and plunging it into his neck and ripping it through, cutting his throat in a brutal fashion.
Steve just caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and turned to see blodd spraying out of the man's ruined neck towards him.
"Trevor! Help me!" He grabbed the man, who was now jerking and thrashing around as blood gushed from the ragged, gaping wound, and dragged him to the floor. He put his hands over the woud, but knew it had to be a lost cause. The man's head barely seemed to be on his shoulders, like he'd half severed it.
Tears welled up in Steve's eyes as he kept on the pressure and Trevor helped hold the man still. "You silly bastard! Why? You could have gone to the fence, they might not have shot you. There was no need for this!"
The jerking and gurgling slowed and then stopped. Steve pulled his hands away in horror and disgust.
Trevor straightened up from the body and helped Steve move away. Then they all moved away from the body, talking in hushed voices.
The other two mute people, a short, mildly attractive redheaded woman and a stocky man in work boots kept looking at the dead man, despite the oothers best efforts to distract them.
Suddenly the woman began to hoot, a strange high pitched sound, while she pointed towards the dead man. Jessica tried to comfort her, attempting to give her a hug. The woman shoved her off roughly, hooting more insistently and jabbing with her finger.
As Steve and Trevor looked, the dead man sat up and grinned at them. It was a gin full of excitement and amusement.
"By Christ," the dead man said, his voice hoarse and rough, "that hurt like buggery fuck."
Jessica fainted dead away as the others just stared at him.
"I think that proves a point." the man continued, "As far as I can tell, it seems like we are invincible or immortal. How fucking cool is that?"

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