Part Two

Everything was completely silent. Lights swam into view as Jeremy forced his eyes open. Shapes and colours danced around like images from a kaleidoscope. Nothing was clear and for a moment he closed his eyes again, willing himself back into unconsciousness. He must have slept because when he came around properly he realised the sky had darkened to a twilight.

He closed his eyes once more, but unconsciousness would not come this time. He tried to figure out what had happened, but it was all blurred in his mind. He remembered turning his head just in time to avoid breaking his nose on the steering wheel, but he'd lost his hearing in his left ear from the impact. All he heard was a loud and constant ringing like there were bells in his head.

 

He slowly raised himself up from wheel and lifted a hand to feel his head where it throbbed. His fingers came away wet and sticky with dark blood, but after checking it in the cracked rear view mirror he told himself it wasn't that bad. He could worry about it later.

 

He wished he could just fall asleep, but he knew he had to get out of the car. What had he seen to make him crash? He couldn't remember any details, only that it had frightened him a lot. He remembered the fear. That was enough to force him to sit up straighter.

 

Jeremy wiped the blood away from his eyes with his jacket sleeve and blinked to clear his vision. For the first time he noticed the smoke pouring out from the hood of his car, which was crumpled against the side of a minibus.

 

"That can't be good," he said to the car, but he couldn't hear his own voice.

 

He opened the car door and tried to step out. His legs wouldn't work and he ended up rolling out of his seat onto the road. The moment he touched the tarmac he felt the bile rising in his throat and he leaned over to vomit. He continued to retch though nothing came up from his empty stomach until finally it stopped and he was left gasping for breath and unable to stand because of the spinning in his head. He leaned his back against the car for a few minutes, but remembered the smoke and told himself he'd have to move. He was certainly no mechanic, but knew enough to realise that smoke would mean fire.

 

There was another car parked across the street and he dragged himself over to it so he could rest again. His hearing was slowly returning but the ringing would not stop. He was starting to worry about the bleeding too. The cut was right above his left eye and kept bleeding into his vision. He wondered if there was a chemist nearby. If not he would have to make do with what he could find. He'd cover it with tape if he had to.

 

As his vision and hearing grew clearer, he became aware of a loud noise from close by and immediately thought of the terror that had caused him to crash. Whatever it was, it was making a lot of banging and clanging noises from inside one of the shops. He thought at first to run away, but running didn't seem to be an option. If he had felt any curiosity at all it was buried under masses of fear and confusion, but he knew he had to check.

 

He climbed slowly to his feet, taking care to stay close to the car in case he should lose his balance. A few shaky footsteps later and he found himself feeling weak in the knees, but able to stay stood up.

 

The shop where he figured he'd heard the noise was a small supermarket. He peered through the window and saw shopping baskets filled with food and other items left in the middle of the isles as though the shoppers had just vanished. He heard the noise again and ducked quietly into the shop, hiding behind a stack of open boxes that someone had been filling the shelves from. He looked around for a weapon and spotted a pair of scissors on top of one of the boxes. They'd have to do.

 

He snatched them up too quickly and knocked one of the boxes over. Packets of chocolate biscuits spilled out over the floor, clattering far too loudly. The noise from the back of the shop stopped and everything went silent. Jeremy cursed his own clumsiness and found himself counting floor tiles. He tried to concentrate, but the voice in his head was whispering numbers to him and the ringing in his ear still continued.

 

His heart pounded in his chest and he wondered if they could hear it beating against his ribs like a drum. Soft footsteps were approaching slowly from behind and knew that he could never run away fast enough. He was trapped. His only chance was to attack and hope that his pathetic weapon would be enough. Steeling himself with a few deep breaths, he told the voice in his head - which was still attempting to count the tiles - to be quiet, and then he threw himself from the cover of the boxes, screaming and waving the scissors in front of him like a madman.

 

"AAAAAHHHHHH!" They both screamed.

 

"Stop, stop!" The boy cried, falling down the floor and raising his arms to the attacker. "Please, stop!"

 

Jeremy paused with the scissors still held out like a tiny sword and stared down at the boy. He could barely believe his eyes. The youth couldn't have been older than thirteen and his eyes were filled with fear. Jeremy had never seen anyone afraid of him before, the counting voice in his head went quiet.

 

"I'm sorry," he said. His voice was cracked and quiet. Silence stretched out between them and Jeremy slowly lowered the scissors. "My name is Jeremy, who are you?"

 

"John," the boy said quickly. "M-my name is John. Please don't hurt me. I won't steal again, I promise. I was just hungry. You're the first person I've seen all day. Everyone else ... my parents ... I thought I was alone."

 

"I haven't seen anyone either," Jeremy told him with a sigh.

 

John eyed him carefully, glancing several times at the scissors until Jeremy tucked them away in his jacket pocket and offered a hand to help him up. Once he was on his feet, John relaxed a bit and frowned at Jeremy's head.

 

"You're bleeding," he said.

 

"Yea I ..." Jeremy mumbled, touching his head where the cut was still oozing with blood and dripping down his face. All the excitement had made the bleed so much worse. "I had an accident."

 

John told his story to Jeremy while they gathered a few supplies from the shelves. He explained how he'd left home early in the morning to go to a friend's house so they could walk to school together. Once he arrived at the house there was no one there.

 

After giving up on his friend, John had walked to school alone. He saw no one along the way and was already scared by the time he found the school deserted. After a search through the classrooms for teachers he headed straight home and found his own parents were missing too. He had spent the day searching for people, for anyone, but he'd been convinced that he was the only person left. After the sun had started to go down he realised he hadn't eaten all day and since there was no one around he had found the nearest shop and helped himself to some food.

 

"And then you jumped out and near gave me a heart attack," he concluded.

 

"I had something of a similar day," Jeremy told him. He dug around in his jacket pockets to find his wallet and left a few notes by the till.

 

"There's no one here," John said, frowning. "You don't need to pay."

 

"It's wrong to steal," Jeremy said, surprised. "Mum told me I should never steal."

 

John stared for a moment, but didn't comment. Jeremy wondered if he'd offended the boy, but before he could say anything else he felt his head swim again and leaned against the counter so he wouldn't fall down.

 

"We need to sort that out," John said. "My house is close, we'll go there."

 

They left the shop and John led Jeremy down the street slowly, letting him rest whenever he felt faint again. By the time they reached John's street Jeremy was starting to feel sick again, but John urged him on, promising him rest when they reached the house. It was so dark they could barely see where they were walking and there were a few stumbles as they made their way through the house to the living room, but eventually John managed to guide Jeremy to the couch.

 

"I think we have some candles somewhere here," John said, hurriedly searching through the drawers. "And we need something to stop the bleeding."

 

"Thank you," Jeremy tried to say, but all that came from his mouth was an unintelligible mumble. It was so dark he couldn't even tell whether he had his eyes open or closed. He was thankful that the ringing in his ears had stopped at least and that he no longer felt like he was going to throw up, but an overwhelming tiredness washed over him and he barely had time to see the tiny flame of the candle flicker before his eyelids fell shut.

 

 

 

Jeremy woke very suddenly and for a panicked moment he wasn't sure where he was or how he'd gotten there. When it all came crashing back to him he tried to bury his head into the cushions, but the bright sunlight streamed in from the windows and his stomach growled fiercely when he recognised the smell of bacon in the air. He tried to remember the dreams he'd had; nightmares filled with strange sounds and blurred images of the accident. His head hurt so he gave up and tried to call out. His voice sounded weak and dry, but John must have heard him because he came into the room a minute later with a plate of food and a glass of water.

 

"I thought you'd be hungry," he said, setting the plate and glass down on the coffee table. "You didn't eat last night and you've slept almost all day. I started to worry that I shouldn't have let you sleep."

 

Jeremy slowly picked up the plate and stared down at the food. Fried bacon, poached eggs, beans, and fried toast stared up at him all muddled together on the unfamiliar dish. He wondered how many people had eaten from it and if it had been thoroughly washed.

 

"Sorry, it's a bit cold," John said quickly. "You looked like you were starting to wake up earlier ..."

 

"It's fine," Jeremy said quietly. His stomach argued angrily with his head until he gave in and started eating. He picked at it at first, trying to eat around the parts that were all piled together, but hunger got the best of him and he found himself almost shovelling it into his mouth faster than he could chew it. The texture of the food mixed together made him gag, the beans even more so, but he held it down and reached for the water. It was too warm and when he noticed the finger prints all over the glass he had to put it back down.

 

"Better?" John asked.

 

Jeremy forced a smile. He felt stronger at least, and his head felt clearer. When he remembered the wound he reached up to check for blood but found it covered with bandages and tape.

 

"You fixed it?" He asked.

 

"Well," John coughed, "I wouldn't say I fixed it really. It was deep - looked like you needed stitches. I did the best I could but you're mostly just taped together. Lucky my mum stocks bandages like she's expecting war to break out otherwise you'd have a towel wrapped around your head. I've changed them twice already."

 

"Thanks," Jeremy muttered. He realised he must sound ungrateful but wasn't sure what else to say. The boy had probably saved his life. "How old are you?"

 

"Sixteen," he answered. "How old are you?"

 

"Thirty-three," Jeremy said. "I thought you were younger."

 

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, "I'm short. It's because of my heart."

 

"What's wrong with your heart?"

 

"It doesn't matter," John said. "It just makes me short. I'm fine. I don't want to talk about it. It's not even interesting."

 

"Does it hurt you?"

 

"No, it doesn't."

 

"My dad said there's something wrong with me too," Jeremy said. "He said it makes my brain slow, but Mum said -"

 

"There's nothing wrong with me!" John barked.

 

Jeremy got the feeling John was angry with him and glanced around the room uncomfortably searching for something else to say. He picked up the glass of water and took a sip.

 

"Sorry," John said, a little timidly. "I don't mean to be bad tempered. I'm usually not, I swear. I'm just worried about where everyone's gone."

 

"You don't need to worry now," Jeremy smiled. "We're not alone anymore."

 

"Yes," John said slowly, "but we can't exactly ignore this. Everyone can't have just vanished. We need our families back."

 

"Why?" Jeremy asked.

 

John stared hard for a while until Jeremy gave up waiting for an answer. His family didn't like to see him so he didn't see why he needed to find them. He thought they probably didn't mind that they'd gone without him. He knew he was a disappointment.

 

"Don't you miss them?" John asked.

 

"Yes," he said. "I've been missing them for a long time. I don't see them very often because they always act so sad around me. I disappoint them."

 

"Oh," John said. He opened his mouth a few times to say something, but must have changed his mind because he smiled suddenly and left the room. When he came back in he brought with him a roll of bandages, a bowl of water, and washcloth. "I'm going to change your bandages again."

 

He looked relieved when the old bandages were off and told Jeremy that the bleeding had stopped, but he wanted to redress it just in case. It took him a few minutes and a lot of tape, but eventually he was satisfied.

 

"How did it happen anyway?" John asked while he stuffed the rest of the roll into a backpack.

 

"I was driving and ..." he struggled to remember. "I saw something; something strange. I can't remember what it was. I hit the brakes and I think the car skidded. When I woke up I found you."

 

"You can drive?" John said, surprised. "OK, never mind. Ignore that. Can you try to remember what you saw?"

 

"I've tried," Jeremy groaned in frustration. "All I remember when I try to think about it is the steering wheel getting a lot closer, very fast."

 

"Right, well I'm sure it'll come back to you soon," John sighed, giving Jeremy a pat on the shoulder. "We'll stay here again for the night so you can rest."

 

Jeremy didn't see why they should have to leave and go looking for anyone. No one would have come looking if he'd gone missing. His panic from the start of this whole nightmare had immensely lessened already with John's appearance, and although he was in no mind to wander off looking for trouble he knew he couldn't leave John alone. All they had right now was each other and Jeremy didn't want to be left by himself again. If John was leaving then Jeremy was following, though not enthusiastically.

 

The night came one again with complete darkness and Jeremy fell into a restless sleep on the sofa. His dreams were full of panic, chaos, and screaming voices. He dreamed of the car crash again and relived that last moment before he'd knocked himself unconscious and for a second he saw what had run past him on the road, but then there was a blinding flash of light, and he woke up.

 

He lay with his eyes closed and tried to remember what he'd seen in his dreams, but it was already slipping away. After a frustrating few minutes in which he tried to cling on to the dream he gave up and tried to go back to sleep again, but the flash of light that he'd seen in his sleep was back and glaring in through the partly closed blinds.

 

Jeremy gasped and ran to the window. His first thought was that there was a search party looking for anyone remaining in the city, and that he would get some answers from them, but John was in the room and blocking his way before he could show himself.

 

"Get down!" John hissed, pulling him by the arm to the ground. The boy wasn't strong enough to force Jeremy down, but something in his voice was. "Don't let them see you."

 

"Why not?" Jeremy asked. "What if they're here to help?"

 

"You didn't see what I just saw," John whispered fearfully. "There's something not right. What kind of light does that look like to you?"

 

Jeremy shrugged. He'd thought of a helicopter, but it didn't feel right. The light was too white and too strong, and he couldn't hear any noises from out there either.

 

"There's something out there," John breathed quickly, "and I don't think we want it to find us. Whatever it is, it doesn't feel friendly."

 

Jeremy didn't quite understand. He when the light moved on he slowly raised his head to peer over the windowsill, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever was waiting in the street. Before he had the chance to assess what he was seeing the white light was pointed straight at him and he could see no more. He was so dazzled that all he saw when he looked around the darkened room were bright colourful patterns and black spots dancing around in his vision.

 

"I'm blind!" He cried.

 

"Shut up!" John slapped his hand over Jeremy's mouth and dragged him to the hall and up the stairs. "Run you fool."

 

Jeremy hurried along, barely able to see. He was dragged into a bedroom and John told him to get down under the bed. Jeremy did as he was told and hoped that none of him was sticking out on show. His heart was hammering in his chest and he wondered if he was going to bring his food back up.

 

Now would be a really bad time, he told his stomach.

 

The front door creaked open and for a second Jeremy thought his heart had stopped. Whoever was in the house, he was afraid of them. He tried to slow his ragged breathing.

 

"One, two, three, four ..."

 

Stop counting, he told himself. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. The counting started again in his head. A minute passed and he heard nothing else in the house; maybe whoever it was had left already. He wondered where John was hiding and if he should look for him, but just as he started sliding himself out from under the bed he saw, through his only partly cleared vision, the bedroom door slowly opening. He quickly pushed himself back, hoping he hadn't been spotted. Nothing happened for a while.

 

"John?" Jeremy tried to whisper, but it quickly turned into a frightened squeak when he saw six insect-like legs step in from the doorway. He jammed him knuckles into his mouth to stop him yelling out loud and held his breath. His lungs screamed in protest as his heart pounded in his chest, flushing all the oxygen too quickly. His entire body shook violently and tears blurred his vision even more as the creature slowly stepped closer to the bed. It took all his effort not to scream in terror and run from the room. He couldn't keep this up much longer.

 

When he could bare it no more he gasped in a lungful of air and just at that moment another set of those hideous legs appeared in the doorway followed by a loud sequence of rustling and clicking noises. It took him a moment to work out that they were talking to each other and suddenly he felt sicker than ever. They went quiet again and the first insect-creature scuttled closer to the bed.