She spoke to the woman. "I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry."
"This is so messed up." Anita turned and left the room.
"Look! Listen to me for a minute. Something awful is happening," Lisa appealed to the woman. "We don't know what, but it's really, really bad. We need to get help. Have you got a phone?"
The woman pointed to a mobile on the bedside cabinet.
Lisa picked it up and dialled 999.
No service.
"Mobiles don't seem to be working. Have you got a landline?"
"Downstairs," the woman nodded.
"Come with me. Show me."
Lisa took her by the shoulders and gently stood her up. With one arm around her waist, she helped her from the room. Barely able to see through her tears, the woman allowed herself to be guided down the stairs.
In the sitting room, Brian had turned on the TV and was standing in front of it, his injured hand wrapped in a table napkin. He barely glanced in their direction when they entered the room, concentrating on the screen and fiddling with a remote control. Anita was watching him impatiently.
"Turn it up! Give it to me!" She snatched the remote control from him and turned up the volume.
The woman pointed out the telephone, on a small low table by the kitchen window, before falling to her knees as the dog ran over to her.
"Oh Matthew," she wept, burying her face in its fur. It licked the salty tears from her hands and face.
"Matthew!" snorted Anita. "What sort of name is that for a dog?"
Lisa frowned at her and shook her head.
Picking up the phone handset, Lisa realised that, without her mobile, her recollection of any numbers, including Neil's, was extremely limited. She never memorised them, just rang them straight from her contacts. As it happened, it was irrelevant, as every number she tried just rang out. She tried 999 first but no-one answered.
After a few tries, she was pretty sure she had Neil's mobile right but, despite calling it several times, she kept getting the "number unavailable" message. She was also confident about their landline number. Even though she knew he wouldn't be there, she dialled it anyway. It rang for a while before it went through to their answerphone.
"Neil, it's me. I'm in trouble. I'm so scared. I don't really know where I am. I don't know what's happening. I'm so scared, Neil. I don't know what to do. I need you. I really need you."
She called over to the woman, "What number is this? What's your number?"
"024 2356 2134," the woman replied nasally, blowing her nose loudly on a crisp white cotton hankie. She had stopped crying and was sitting on the edge of the raised kitchen floor, also now watching the TV. Matthew was nuzzling in her lap.
"If you get this message, ring me here on 024 2356 2134 as soon as you can. I love you." Her voice cracked. "I love you so much. I'll try you again later."
"I can't get through to anyone," she said as she put the phone down.
"I'm not surprised," said Brian. "Come over here, listen to this. We're in the middle of a national disaster."
But, Lisa's first priority was to quench her raging thirst. Opening and closing cupboards until she found a glass, she filled it from the tap and gulped it down. She closed her eyes. The water was ice cold. It soothed away the raw dryness in her throat and she felt her entire body sigh with relief. She took a deep breath, before refilling and drinking again. She drank three glasses. Water dribbled down her chin; it had never tasted so good.
She took a couple of glasses over to Brian and Anita as she joined them in front of the TV.
"Here. Drink."
The BBC News Channel was playing. All four of them watched in silence, unable to believe what they were seeing. Anita's mouth was open. Her jaw slack with disbelief. Brian's lips were pressed tightly together. He was shaking his head.
Repeated amateur footage of scenes of carnage, like the ones they had witnessed on the train, were being broadcast, with warnings to viewers about the disturbing nature of the content. They were occurring in towns and cities all over the country. The video clips were interspersed by wide-eyed, dishevelled journalists and various, hastily assembled experts, speculating about what may, or may not, be happening.
In a few short hours, it appeared that the entire country had descended into chaos. Terms like "coordinated bio-terror attack", "chemical warfare", "outbreaks of cannibalism", and "reanimation of the dead" were being used freely. The rolling newsfeed at the bottom of the screen provided regular updates of areas that were affected, and the steps that were being taken to try and regain control of the situation. An emergency meeting of COBRA had been called and was in session. The army was being mobilised to support the emergency services who were unable to cope with the unprecedented demand.
The "attack" had been large scale, sudden and completely unexpected. No-one had claimed responsibility. Most outbreaks appeared to have started on trains and buses that left several major cities, including London, Manchester, Glasgow and Cardiff, between four and five that afternoon. Some, like theirs, had failed to reach their destinations, but many had arrived in towns and cities, spilling their infected occupants out into busy stations and city centres.
The speed and scale of the event meant that the government and the authorities had been initially slow to react, and things had rapidly spiralled out of control. The public were advised to stay in their homes, make sure all doors and windows were shut and locked, keep the TV or radio on and await further advice.
Standing in front of the TV, it was hard to accept what they were seeing and hearing. Complete
