A World Apart (29 page)

‘What was that?’ whispered a patrol man wearing glasses with a bland hair style visible through his goggles and mask that covered his face. Neville held his breath, scared that even his slight breathing would give his position away. A patrol man reached for his long jackets pockets, gathering what sounded like a collection of keys. Neville saw the man walk towards the door and fidget with the lock, eventually opening the door after a few minutes.

The patrol men above hurried into the ransacked shop, breaking and crashing into the contents as they searched restlessly. Neville stayed still, curling into a ball with fright. All of a sudden he had an idea. He lifted his legs and hovered above the gruelling grey ground in order to extract a small piece of what appeared to be glass but was actually a lens from an old pair of glasses. He shuffled over and began climbing the wall, using a chair a prop to elevate himself to the surface. Finally, he reached the top of the basement, which was in fact the foot of the building. He balanced himself and reached for the lens and carefully poked it to the surface, repositioning the angle of the lens with delicacy. Images raced onto the lens reflection as Neville frowned whilst trying to identify the contents. The docks came into view so Neville turned the lens minutely to the left by ninety degrees, as the shop image whizzed in and out of the lens’s reflection. Neville tried to adjust it back to the image, reverting back slowly and examining. After a short while fiddling Neville began to feel a desire to give in and hand himself in, all of the events up and till now being extremely dangerous and it just all seemed to pile on top of him like rain drops. Neville had reached the end of his tether, so he moved the lens back towards his pocket, until a flash caught his eye and he starred back at the lens, half propped on the surface concrete and half in the basement. Neville was looking at the shop and dock images that appeared miraculously, which contained an image of emptiness. This was the moment that Neville had been anticipating since his bright idea around ten minutes ago.

A hand rose from the basement as Neville began climbing out, twitching with anxiety at the thought of the patrol men lurking around and ready to pounce. On climbing from the basement he heard mutterings from a strong Ukrainian woman’s accent, sounding like she was giving orders to a lower ranked person. Neville paused for a second to identify the voices origin, when he slipped on some loose gravel.

‘Shhhhhhhh!!!!’ said Chief commander Malagloran, a high cheek boned woman with a prominent figure, tall elegant slender and wavy brown hair. She was dressed in all grey with a small logo on the shoulder of her overalls, which was a rectangular black colour with a small white dot on the right hand side, accompanied by the letters ‘R’ in a blue colour and a ‘P’ which was a light green colour. Neville was perched quietly underneath the shop’s window, plucking up the courage to look through the window and decide what he should do before it was too late. Neville built himself up, thinking of the lengths he has go to and how much he has been through to get here, he was sure that he wasn’t going to be sent back. He turned around with speed, spinning to look through the window when he jolted back down for cover. The patrols were all scattered over the place in the shop, Neville only glimpsing a few of them. He looked around for something to cause a distraction so that he could make a run for the city, eying a gathering of bolts and chains from where the door had been bombarded by the shoulder of patrols earlier. In one swift motion, almost like slow motion, he grabbed the bolts and chains, along with some gravel and threw them down into the basement, where they cracked and twanged loudly. Neville quickly took another glance through the window and made a quick exit. As he ran closer to an embankment at the rear of the shops, cutting through an alley along the way, he heard frantic footsteps and moans coming from the shop as he carried on with no regrets. Neville jumped as he reached the tall grass as an effort to conceal his presence, landing on something sharp and unnatural.

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“Sir, I really do feel strongly about this though. I mean, we come here and it is clearly obvious that no human activity is possible. It would be easier to have done with this place and stay at home” questioned Mr James Andrew Tenderton, the transportation controller for project R.P, reaching for his round spectacles on the highly visible grained wood opposite. The computer and machinery started to bleep and judder just as he picked up his glasses, making him jump. Captain Vidan Ingle raised an eyebrow, which Tenderton misread as a reaction to what he had just said as oppose to the change in computer activity.

“Tenders’ fetch me Stefan…we need his expertise with this one” announced Captain Vidan, ignoring Tenderton’s complaints as if they were yesterday’s news. Mr Tenderton trotted off out of the small cabin and onto the balcony that overlooked the decks and ship below. He stood defiantly as he absorbed the shoreline of Southampton, making his way to the edge of the balcony with a unique clocking noise that his ruffled boots made on the steel floor. After a while gazing out to England, he then set about the spiral staircase that descended to his left and lead to the docks where soldiers and workers were busy in the sun’s rays and low humid atmosphere. The soldiers began to neatly line up as the arrival to England was imminent. Lines and lines of troops, machines and vehicles filled the front bay, creating a bed of greenery that resembles the scenery ahead. A loud droning pitch sounded as the ship halted and started to anchor and attached to the docks.

Mr Tenderton stretched to attend to his shoelace that had lazily slumped onto the front bay floor, abruptly returning to keep a close eye on what was happening ahead. It was then that Tenderton finally spotted Stefan, although it was too late to call him to the office as he was promptly boarding the island. Everything looked in order so he returned up to the office to inform the Captain of the bad news. Once he had stabilised himself from the look of disgust that came bellowing silently from Captain Vidan Ingle, he then extracted his wooden chair and sat, attending to documents and journals as he placed his feet on the back of the desk, propping himself comfortably. After a short while of ruffling Tenderton found the correct journal he had been looking for. Quick as a hat, Tenderton picked up his pen, dabbed it into ink and started to write in another book that was around the size of the palm of a hand.

“12 hundred hours- bay reached and cargo successfully being transported as like 2.3 Operative instructions states. Clause 1.2b is to be amended to ’20 mile radius’ instead of 10. Southampton shoreline-23d 45h 99i, Regards, Captain Vidan Igle”

Vidan Inge

The captain finished writing in the journal, drawing a rectangular box at the bottom of the writing where he shortly pressed with his finger and the writing disappeared. He closed the book and returned to the documents, tidying what he could but he remained troubled, although what it may be, he did not know. He was finally left alone in his glamorous office where he sighed dramatically, taking in the air with pleasure. He is a rather scary man to come across, big build, bulging eyes, a perfectly trimmed beard and a mean expression that would frighten the scariest of creatures. Although captain Ingle has a distasteful exterior, he is also considered a caring and devoted man who looks out for his soldiers and that is very loyal to his family. He often finds it extremely difficult to cope without his French wife Fiona and their son Jadin. Some days really do drag, thought captain Ingle as he swivelled the last of his coffee in his mug and looked out of the circular window where the sun shone miraculously as if to put a smile on his face. He reverted back to his desk where he starred momentarily at a family photo of them all outside their new summer home in Monaco. The captain was rudely interrupted as Tenderton came bursting through the large double doors that swung into his office. Tenderton could obviously tell he had come at a bad time and offered his apologies, which were turned down.

“I’ll be out in five, Andrew” said captain Ingle, clearly not amused by his sudden appearance. Tenderton quickly disappeared and closed the doors behind him.

Five minutes later, the captain came steadily from his office and out onto his own private balcony where he saw his men being briefed on the docks below. The instructor below was an old college friend of captain Ingle’s called Robin Reaves from Cambridge, where they studied English and Philosophy together. Robin is a delightfully well-spoken middle aged man who is interested in similar things to the captain, such as reading, opera, art, philosophy and family outings. Robin is a year older than captain Ingle and even though he is he has a surprisingly young looking face, which the captain is sometimes quite jealous of, especially when people guess his age. They are both very competitive in whatever they do, Robin achieving a double first degree classification and being offered numerous scholarships, whereas Ingle lived more for the social side of University, achieving an upper second class degree respectively. This is evident when the two attend social outings, Robin being very shy and reclusive in his input, Ingle however is the compete opposite, which often overpowers the unfortunate listener casually yawning.

After their graduation Robin decided to teach as he approached his late twenties, whereas the captain remained at Cambridge to then study computer science, falling in love with the subject in the mid-nineties, forming his own business. WearIT was the business, based on the principle idea of wearable computer devices. The business saw a glitch soon after the millennium, although it was incorporated into IT giant A.I.R, owned by the Marvel family. The technological enhancements that originated from Ingle were well received at a meeting late that winter, one of their favourites was the C400, which consisted of devices embedded into the retina to project information. Contrary to this, Robin shifted his career once again and gained a job at WearIT where he worked as a coordinator of developments, later being promoted to analyst and user specialist, all of which infuriated Ingle. Things started to change as Marvel pushed for a redevelopment programme in 2014, shipping them off to where they are at present.

Tenderton pooped up out of the blue next to captain Ingle, who jolted and placed his hand to his heart.

“DEAR GOD MAN!” shouted captain Ingle as he clearly had not seen Tenderton arrive next to him.

“We are about to board sir” said Tenderton with haste.

“Is that it?” snapped captain Ingle.

“Er, yes sir that is all” replied Tenderton, confused at his tone. Captain Ingle reached for his overcoat pocket and handed something to Tenderton, who quickly disappeared as soon possible.

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The shoreline disappeared as the day progressed, which could be recognised by workers taking a short break in the emerging sun from the clouds. Neville walked on, deciding not to look back at the ship, heading into the remains of the city. As Neville approached a deserted dismount he looked shockingly over the city, viewing nothing but destruction and signs of chaos, cars alight, roofs collapsed and bricks scattered spontaneously. The fear of escaping the patrols still nibbled away at him like a hungry squirrel finding the last acorn. Neville walked further down the hill and onto the streets, coming to the first house that didn’t look as tattered as the others. Mystified by its contents, Neville looked for the nearest entrance, quickly spotting a petit opening between the panels of the surrounding fence that lead to the rear of the house. He mounted the fence and kicked the panel lightly as it fell easily out and onto the one concrete slab below. As he squeezed between the panels and resurfaced himself he noticed a large ladder propped against the side of the house, which fell seconds later to the floor and crashed into small pieces. The rear of the house was full of shrapnel, broken tiles, wood and more bricks, along with the shed that’s roof was swinging from its hinges and dangling over one side. A swing blew in time with the breath of the wind, just as clouds covered the sun and created an eerie atmosphere of dread. Neville walked eagerly passed an assumed bathroom window, noticing the decaying wood and excessive signs of mould emerging from the window arms. The overgrown grass and rotten weeds protruded from every possible crevice around the garden, as it was warmed by the gentle hand of the sun’s rays. The house looked around seventy years old from the type of bricks and structure, especially when Neville noticed the décor inside and a humid smell that reminded him of visiting his grandmother. Drips of rain could be heard pottering down the tubes of the piping that ran along the roof and down to a drain below. A maroon thick door stood partly together from the middle of the rear of the house. Chips of wood stood beneath it, Neville peered through the gaps, deciding on his next move as he was scared at what he might see or find. He walked forward, arm adrift to open the door, just as he stopped dead about a foot away from the door, focussing his ear by cupping it. His hearing came back in range and he stood there listening to an electronic sound, which sounded like it was coming from up the stairs of the house. The noise continued bleeping and churning a few more minutes. Neville then bravely grasped the bronze lion head knocker on the door pulled it back and knocked, although to his astonishment the door swung open. A chocking whirl of dust came bursting out through the doors and into the garden, Neville unintentionally eating some of the content, resulting in him spurting and coughing frantically. Cobwebs were almost everywhere you looked, covering the corner of the room and archways with a thick white web, making Neville queasy at the thought of the size of the creature that formed them. Neville pondered the thought for a while, dreaming up a creature so horrid and gangly with giant eyes and teeth that dripped with saliva. Neville slowly jumped out of his nightmare, totally disorientated at first but he remembered what he was doing a split second later. He fought his way through to the kitchen area and headed for the stairs where he could hear the mechanical sound. As the sight of the stairs came into view Neville couldn’t believe the condition they were in, completely battered, panels missing, protruding metal along with scatterings of chipboard and dust. The floorboards groaning and yelped as Neville step foot on them, each making their own unique voice heard. Reaching the top was much to be desired, as the rooms were only just being supported correctly and gave a real sense of danger in their appearance. The gushing wind made Neville unconsciously swivel assertively to look at a small room where an open window clattered gracefully against the window pane. The window was fitted with perfectly cut cream coloured net curtains that shimmered slowly. Neville felt a cold tingling sensation as the atmosphere built to an unimaginable dark and grim overcast from the room itself. The room that Neville was approaching was filled with broken furniture, torn beds, smashed picture frames and a lopsided table. Neville entered and headed for the window, noticing the disgustingly yellow stained walls as he did. As he walked through towards the open window he stood still and gazed out of the window from an arm’s length away, looking out of the corner of his eye, for he had a strange feeling he was being watched. The noise gradually increased as Neville clocked the sound, which he had unknowingly blocked out moments earlier. The metallic clatter was borderline unbearable, rattling in Neville’s ears with each churn. Neville started to sweat incredulously as he stood motionless, waiting to discover the creator of the sounds that were now echoing around the house. There was one last bang and then the room was filled with deadly silence and Neville’s heartbeat. Neville was still facing the window, where he spotted something in the reflection of the window, making his hairs stand up on his back instantly. He couldn’t bear turning around, although he was intrigued to find out what had been making the noise. He slowly turned around, where he saw the sunlight that surrounded the door frame and a small metallic device in the middle of the door observing him.