The camera is knocked and wobbles as they stream past, then another Beast with its eye seemingly hanging from its socket, down on its cheek and just hanging by its nerves, runs straight into the camera. The camera falls and the picture on the television blurs. The camera hits the ground, coming to a stop, and the picture on the television returns. The camera is pointed up at the sky just in time to see two Apache attack helicopters release a full spread of Hellfire missiles. The television screen goes completely white and then immediately black.
Seconds pass, my brain again processing what I’ve just witnessed. I have to admit I’m in shock and unable to move; did the girls just see that carnage on the television downstairs? I had switched it off and hope against hope they haven’t switched it back on.
I need to move, move now and move quickly. Reaching under the bed, I retrieve the backpack, unzip the top and take out three more magazines of bullets. One, I slide into its space in my holster and two fit into the inside pocket of my windbreaker. I would normally think carrying so many clips is overkill and cumbersome, but after what I have just witnessed, I want them easily to hand.
Grabbing the backpack and throwing it over my shoulder, I quickly leave my bedroom, the television still on. Horrified newsreaders are back in the studio, debating and reporting on what they have just broadcast.
Entering the kitchen, the television in there is still switched off, to my great relief. Emily is now sitting on top of her pink bag and watching some cartoon on her iPad. Stacey, however, sits at the kitchen table, glued to the screen of her phone; she looks in terrible shock.
I move behind her and see that she is watching BBC News, the poor girl. I place a hand on her shoulder, lean into her ear and reassure her that I am confident her mum and dad are safe, that I am sure they are still at their office and have taken the precautions I told them to take.
She turns her head to look at me but says nothing; tears are welling in her eyes.
“Please stay positive, Stacey,” I soothe, “we will try to phone them again as soon as we get to my office, but we need to go now, okay?”
She attempts a smile, “Okay Andy.” And then, “what are those horrible things?”
“What horrible things?” Emily interrupts.
“Nothing, Emily, now have you got everything, because we are going now?”
“Yes Dad,” she says, “but this bag is too heavy for me to carry.”
“I’ll get your bag, now you two go out to the car and get into your seats. Let’s get this show on the road,” I hear myself saying, trying to sound as upbeat as possible.
As Stacey gets up, I tell her that we’ll also talk about what she has just watched when we get to the office. She thanks me again, takes Emily by the hand and they both go out to the garage. I quickly secure the house, making sure all the doors are locked and setting the alarm, wondering if we will ever return to this house—and, for a second, where Jessica is and if she is even worried about her children?
This is not the time for wondering, however. On setting the alarm, I go through the kitchen, picking up Emily’s pink bag on the way through to the garage, shutting and locking the door behind me. I can see through the open back door of the Disco that Stacey and Emily are in their seats, Emily perched on top of her booster seat closest to me. Going around to the back of the car, I put Emily’s bag into the boot and close it, then go to the open back door, lean in and place a kiss on the top of Emily’s head. I then close that door too. Taking the backpack off my shoulder, I get into the driver’s seat, quickly open the backpack and take out yet another clip for the Sig, placing it in the drinks holder just below my armrest. The backpack is then put into the passenger's footwell.
“Right, are you two ready?” I say, turning to the girls in the back.
I get a, “Yes, Andy,” from Stacey and a, “Yes, Dad, let’s go,” from Emily; with that, I press a button on my dashboard. The garage door starts to open and bright sunlight rushes through into the garage. We could be on our way for a day out in the park on a lovely day like this; instead, it feels like we’re going into battle; my stomach is telling me that and I’m certain it is right on this occasion.
Starting the engine, I glance at the time. It’s still only 10.20 a.m., so much has happened in the last couple of hours. Maybe our lives have changed forever, maybe the whole city has, maybe even the country. As the garage door reaches the top, I drop the car into drive and accelerate out of the garage, once again pressing the button on the dash.
Chapter 6
Exiting the garage, the sunshine is bright, making me squint, a lovely summer’s day that we seem to struggle to get in England with any consistency, even in the height of summer. Maybe global warming is missing this fine country, or it is at least late arriving.
Reaching into one of the storage compartments in the dash, I get my sunglasses and put them on, classic aviator-style as always
