Front Matter
Title Page
Publisher Information
Prologue
The Long Walk Home
Day Zero
The Prime Minister’s Address to the Nation
Eight Days from Day Zero
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Day Zero: Two Months Later
Twenty-Five Years After Day Zero
Back Matter
Also Available
THE LONG WALK HOME
A.M. Keen
First published in 2017 by
AG Books
www.agbooks.co.uk
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
© Copyright 2017 A.M. Keen
The right of A.M. Keen to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Prologue
Leicester Square tube station stood quiet at a little after two. The mad dash would begin in an hour or so as commuters took to the London transportation system. The passengers at that time would likely be workers flooding home and tourists rushing to reach a few more landmarks before the day dwindled but as of this moment, the platform was manageable, almost empty in comparison to what it was soon going to experience.
Robert Linger had just attended a meeting on Charing Cross road, a successful one at that, and now his arduous journey back home began by heading to Kings Cross St Pancras.
The platform itself bore a cool and refreshing breeze, kinder to the skin than the summer heat trapped below the layer of rain clouds outside. The red, digital timetable jutting from the wall informed him that the next train arrived in a few minutes.
Robert fumbled inside his pocket, checking that the train ticket still nestled in there. The handful of people around him stared across the track to the tiled wall, as most people seem to do when they’re waiting for the tube. A well-dressed woman stood closest to him, a few feet to the left. From first impressions, Robert guessed she came from the financial district or was out on business. He could have been wrong, but that was just his opinion.
A couple of lads in shorts and t shirts, sporting beards and backpacks, mingled not far past her on the platform. They had to be travelling, there was no doubt about it.
Robert sighed, rolling his sleeves to the elbows. How many days of his life had been spent waiting for public transport?
Vibrations pulsed beneath his feet. A loud, muted thunderclap rumbled the platform about them all. The ground swayed. Robert lost his footing and slumped against the tiled wall. Plaster rattled as it fell from the ceiling. He placed a hand against the cool tiles to steady himself.
“Earthquake!” someone shouted.
The well-dressed lady slumped to the floor and yelped out. The platform took the trait of a fishing vessel caught in stormy seas, swaying as it crashed through a storm’s violent waves.
The tube station came to a silent standstill. The earthquake subsided. From the muted street above came the faint wail of alarms.
Robert’s eyes met one of the backpackers. “You alright, mate?” the traveller asked in a strong Australian accent.
“Yeah. Yeah,” Robert replied.
“What the hell was that?”
Robert shrugged. “I don’t know. Earthquake? A traffic accident up there or something?”
The backpacker turned to the well-dressed lady now sat on the platform. “How about you, Miss? Are you okay?”
She winced, shaking her head. “No,” she gasped, reaching down to her right ankle. “I think I twisted it when I fell.”
Robert and the backpackers moved over to her. “Can you stand?” Robert enquired, “If we help?”
She winced. “I’ll give it a try.”
The three men dropped their belongings and placed themselves about the fallen lady. The travellers knelt on either side, hooking her arms over their necks.
“Ready?” the first man asked.
“Yes, just about.”
“Okay, one, two three, go!”
They stood in unison, raising the woman to her feet.
She screamed out.”No! No!”
“Shit. Put her down. Put her down,” the second man ordered.
The woman slumped back to the floor, clutching her ankle once more.
“I think you’ve done some real damage, like ligaments or a sprain, or something like that,” Robert suggested. “I guess we better find a first aider. There has to be one in the station somewhere.” Wind ruffled his hair as it expelled from the tunnel, signifying the arrival of the next train. He turned, intending to head back up to the elevator, but stopped. From the station area above them the sound of screaming emerged. Not one person, not two people, but crowds. Crowds of people began wailing in the upper levels of the underground. Robert stood back. All hell had broken loose on the floors above.
The next train pulled in to the platform, but even its engine could not subdue the sounds of carnage emanating from the escalators and upper floors.
“Mate, I don’t think going up there is that good an idea,” came the voice of the second backpacker. Robert turned to see the handful of people who’d waited on the platform briskly jogging to the train’s doors. The empty train opened, allowing access from the platform. Butterflies danced inside Robert’s stomach. An overbearing sense of fear washed over him. Groans and roars accompanied the screaming. The vocals became louder, meaning a mass of people were coming closer. The wailing despair, the groaning, the roars and snorts were heading from the area above to the platform.
“Get on the train!” Robert shrieked, sprinting back across to the train. He reached down to the injured lady. “Grab her! Drag her if you need to!” he screamed.
“I can’t! You’ll hurt me!”
“Don’t worry about that! We need to get
