All we can do is press on and try to find Josh.
We are now flying closer to the Thames, going deeper into the epicentre of the outbreak and as we do, the number of Rabids we see seems to diminish somewhat. We could be kidding ourselves or maybe we’re just not seeing them, but the number roaming the streets does look like it’s going down. Are the Rabids moving outwards, looking for better hunting grounds? Has this part of the city started to exhaust its supply of fresh prey or are Dan and I just clutching at straws?
The one thing we haven’t seen is a sign of troops on the ground; has the army just abandoned this part of the city? There has been the odd piece of military transport on the ground, but all lifeless. We have seen only two helicopters in our vicinity; more are flying farther out, but here there’s nothing. They were obviously here, that is plain from the number of explosions that have hit the streets, buildings and cars below. Dan and I know full well what they look like.
St Paul's Cathedral is coming up on our left. This too, I'm afraid to say, is ablaze, smoke pouring from the top of its famous dome. The 300-year-old building survived the Blitz of the Second World War when everything around it was bombed and burnt. St Paul’s survival was seen as a sign from God in the darkest days of the war; if that was true, then God has deserted the Cathedral now. So, has he deserted the city entirely?
In front of St Paul’s, the skyscrapers of the City of London, its financial heart, seem to be faring considerably better. The Lloyds building is burning which doesn’t surprise me after my conversation—which feels like a lifetime ago—with Stacey's Dad, Jim, earlier today.
The tall skyscrapers, of the City, however, including the Leadenhall Building that her parents are trapped in, look to be mostly intact. Perhaps there is some hope for Stacey's parents, although the situation inside the building could be very different.
Across the river, South London seems almost normal by comparison, even with the fog of smoke that has settled over it. Military hardware and troops are visible patrolling the South Bank, but something tells me all is not as well as it first looks. There are at least two tell-tale fires burning that I can see, and helicopters are hovering over that side of the city as they were over North of the river earlier today. Colonel Reed said that the virus wouldn’t be contained, and it looks like he was right.
“Boss, they have just shot one on the beach trying to get out of the water in front of the Tate Modern.”
“How the fuck did it cross the water?” I ask.
“You got me, I don’t know, surely they can’t swim?” Dan replies.
“I don’t think we can put anything past these things, Dan.”
“No, I don’t think we can.”
Dan’s and my headphones come to life again with another voice and neither of us is surprised to hear Colonel Reed's voice coming through them. Dan gives me a look as if to say we are in for a major bollocking.
"Colonel Reed to Andy Richards, are you receiving, over?" He sounds angry and agitated, and who can blame him?
For a second, I debate whether to just ignore him. I know what he is going to say and nothing he utters is going to dissuade me from carrying on to try and find my son. But the Lynx containing Emily and the others will be touching down shortly if it hasn't already, so I need to try and get him back on-side.
"Receiving, Colonel. Andy here, over."
"Andy, what the hell do you think you are playing at?" the Colonel rants.
"I apologise, Colonel. I have to find my son and there was no other option, over."
"Find your son? Find your son, man? Are you insane? Your son is not a child, man, he is a serving soldier in Her Majesty's Army and doing his duty, which—I might add—is no concern of yours. You have taken it into your own hands to look after yourself and your own family, thus jeopardising the safety of others around you. You have accosted an RAF pilot, stolen a Lynx helicopter, and—where is Sir Malcolm's safe that you promised? The General has got my balls in a sling here, Andy!" he says. He really is irate.
"Sir Malcolm's computer is on the first Lynx. We couldn't get the safe out in time, over."
"So, you have let me down! Just as I thought! Did you even try, man?"
"Colonel, they were breaking through. I wasn't going to put everyone's lives at risk. If the files you need aren't on the computer, I will go back for the safe if it is feasible, over."
"And when will that be, after you have finished your little crusade? Those files are vital to this country, possibly to the world, and you have sacrificed them for one person, just because he is related to you? How is one man so special that we should—"
I have heard enough and go on the offensive, cutting him off. "Colonel, that person is my son, and yes, I place his safety above anyone else’s. Is that what you want to hear? Now, I will get the safe if needed, and if you want to help, may I suggest that you see if you can get information on my son’s battalion, over."
"You have got some bloody cheek!" the Colonel shouts. He has lost all self-control.
"That’s as may be, Colonel, but there it is. That is where we are at. I am going
