As we travel on the long walk through Terminal 5 of Heathrow Airport, the Private and I—who I learn is named Jason—have quite a long talk. He is Scottish, which is plain from his accent and he travelled through the night last night with his Brigade of over four thousand troops from Maryhill Barracks near Glasgow. They were apparently crammed into three trains and it took just over five and a half hours to arrive into London, he tells me that he managed to get some sleep on the train, but not much.
Once we are acquainted, I ask him how the rest of the country is reacting to what is happening and he tells me the brutal truth.
He tells me the whole country has gone into meltdown; when the news first broke, every shop and supermarket in the country was cleared out of food and other essentials in a matter of hours by panic buyers, which was basically everybody. After the food ran out in the shops, the looting took over. Anywhere that might have had food was looted—warehouses, restaurants, schools and even a few hospitals. The government eventually declared Martial Law over the whole country at around six o’clock last night and ordered a curfew from seven-thirty, but both have been quite ineffective because there aren’t enough police to enforce either and the military is here in London trying to contain the outbreak.
Unfortunately, he carries on, telling me that riots erupted late last night in the centre of Birmingham around the conference centre there, which is supposed to be the new temporary Parliament. The rioting spread to a few other major cities like Liverpool and Sheffield but fortunately, most of the rioting died down late last night.
“Jesus,” I manage to say, but he hasn’t finished.
The country has also gone into financial meltdown, he tells me, the bottom having dropped out of the stock market before it was suspended indefinitely at one thirty yesterday afternoon. That caused the bottoms to fall out of the stock markets across Europe and New York, all of which have also been suspended and the rest of the world has followed suit as they were due to open. Nobody is expecting the banks to reopen today, or any business to open for that matter.
“Bloody hell, Jason, it sounds like the virus has crippled the country before it’s even spread!”
“I’m afraid it looks that way, Sir. Apparently, other countries are already saying that and that it’s lucky it happened here because it’s an island… Bastards!”
“Bastards indeed. They don’t know us very well; we’ve been down before but never out!”
“Too right, Sir, they don’t know us at all.”
Chapter 4
Things go quieter for a while as I try to get my head around the distressing things Jason has just told me about what has happened—and is happening—to the country. Seeing first-hand what has happened to London so far has been appalling enough, and I suppose I was kidding myself if I didn’t think London suffering as badly as it is doing wouldn’t have dire ramifications for the whole country.
Jason snaps me out of my dark thoughts, thankfully.
“All but there now, Sir; the escalator down to the Food Hall is just around here.”
Hearing that lifts my mood. I’m looking forward to getting back to the group and I pick up my pace behind Jason.
We exit the confines of the large but enclosed walkway into an area overlooking the cavernous Departure Lounge of Terminal 5.
It’s like we have entered another world, gleaming shop and boutique signs sparkling all around, and I’m nearly fooled into pretending some exotic destination for us all is within reach. But before that dream goes any further, the closed shop shutters, dead departure boards and muted atmosphere drag me back to reality.
Nevertheless, I can feel my children, Catherine, Stacey, Dan and the others close now, which is good enough for me.
Jason is still leading the way, which I am impressed by considering he hasn’t been here long. Yet he seems to know his way around this massive building, heading now towards the escalator that goes down to the Food Hall level.
“You seem to know your way around, Jason.”
“My belly is leading the way, Sir.” I should have known, I think to myself, laughing.
We get to the top of the escalator, which doesn’t move and has turned into one long metal staircase, reaffirming the fact that there will be no flights to anywhere exotic today from this building.
Walking down an unmoving escalator is not as easy as you might think; the steps are wider and taller than an actual staircase, the polished metal surface seems slippery underfoot and the rubber handrail sticks to your hand rather than letting it glide, so we go down steadily. There was a sign to the stairs at the top, but at least climbing down this escalator gives us a panoramic view of the lower Departure Lounge and most of the Food Hall.
The lower area is busy enough with people moving about and sitting at tables eating, but again this is no normal scene for the Food Hall. A large majority of the people are dressed in uniforms; the green uniforms of the Army, dark blue Navy and sky-blue RAF uniforms are all around and mingling together, most ranks too.
My eyes search for anyone from the group, trying to pick out Josh’s blond hair or Emily’s small stature, but I’m struggling to see any of them, and as we near the bottom I’m starting doubt they are here. Maybe we are in the wrong building?
“DAD!” Emily’s voice shouts out from my left, and my head spins and I see her running towards me, leaving Josh, who is thankfully still here and
