The Chaos

  I start to walk, and it feels okay so I step it up and start jogging, away from the house where my dad grew up, my home too, for a while. There’s nothing left, but I don’t feel anything about that, ’cause it’s people that make a home, and the three people that’d make it home for me aren’t there any more.

  But I’m going to find them. I’m going to find them if it’s the last thing I do.

  Chapter 66: Sarah

  We head across town, but the place we walk through isn’t London at all, at least not the London I grew up in. Nothing is as it should be. It’s completely, utterly changed. It’s not exactly quiet because there are car alarms and burglar alarms going off, and miles away there are sirens, but the background hum of traffic is gone. The noise that you go to sleep to at night and wake up to in the morning – it’s missing.

  My head plays tricks on me. As we walk along, my mind is seeing the place how it used to be and I start to feel kind of spaced out when there’s sky where a building should be, where walls are missing, or where the pavement has disappeared under a heap of rubble. We find two more holes in the road. One cuts across the street, making a chasm too wide to jump over, so we have to go back on ourselves and find a different way round.

  Everywhere we go, people are shouting for help. Gaggles of people gather where there’s any reason to hope; families, neighbours, strangers pitching in to try and rescue the ones still alive. They form lines straggling across the rubble, passing bricks and blocks and timber from one to the other. There’s no sign of the police or the fire service or even the army. Not round here, not in Kilburn. We’ve been left. We’re on our own. If we don’t do it ourselves, it won’t get done.

  It’s tempting to help, but it’s nearly eight in the morning now and Mia is all that matters, Val and I agree on that.

  The first fire is a few streets away. Some flats above a row of shops are blazing away, flames streaking out of one of the windows up towards the sky. Two figures are in the very top window, trapped by the fire below. People have piled up cardboard boxes, anything they can find, in the street below, and they’re yelling, ‘Jump!’

  As we watch, the figures climb out of the window and, hand in hand, they launch themselves into the air. They land on the makeshift mattress, but it’s not enough. They land and they stay down, hands entwined, necks broken. We stay for longer than we should do, as people cover over the two bodies with the clothes that were meant to cushion their fall. Then we turn and walk away, silent, numb with horror.

  The streets are full. Everyone who could get out under their own steam has done so, and no-one’s going back inside. There aren’t that many ‘insides’ to go back to, and the buildings left standing aren’t to be trusted. Some people are wandering aimlessly, others sitting by the side of the road, head in hands. Most are joining the rescue effort, going where they’re needed, responding to the cries and shouts all around.

  Of course, not everyone’s trying to help: some are helping themselves. We pass plenty of shops with their windows smashed. Nature may have broken some of them, but crowbars and baseball bats have done the rest. People are going in and out like it’s the January sales. Only no-one’s buying. They’re just taking it all away.

  I keep looking at my watch. We’ve only gone about a couple of kilometres and it’s already quarter past nine. I stop again.

  ‘Val, this is no good. We won’t get there in time. What are we going to do?’

  ‘Do you want to go on ahead without me? You’ll be quicker.’

  That’s exactly what I want, but it seems ungrateful.

  ‘Not really,’ I say. ‘I want to get there, but I don’t want to be on my own.’ Then I hit on something. ‘Val, can you ride a bike?’

  ‘Course I bloody can. I was young once, you know.’

  There are Freebikes all over London, a row of them just along the street, some of them a bit mangled, most of them okay still.

  ‘Come on,’ I say, and we scurry up to them. I’ve got some change in my pocket and I put my hand out to put a Euro into the slot, when behind me Val makes a noise like a startled bird. I spin round. There are other people screaming too, and a noise like thunder. It’s not coming from above us, though, it’s underneath us, all around, and then I see what everyone else is seeing – a wave spreading along the road. I don’t mean water on top of it, the road itself is the wave, the whole thing rippling like it’s a ribbon or a sheet or something.

  We don’t have time to run anywhere, so I grab Val and I pull her down to the ground. As soon as we’re down there we’re pitched back up into the air. I cry out as something hits me in the back. Anything not fixed down is being tossed about like a ship at sea: cars, bikes, people.

  All around us windows are popping, glass is showering down, and then buildings themselves, the ones that survived the first quake, start to collapse.

  ‘Stay down!’ I shout. ‘It’s not over!’ But it is. As quickly as it came, the movement stops. Was it really only a couple of seconds? The noise carries on for a while though, and I wait until it’s faded, before I open my eyes and lift my head up. Beside me, Val’s doing the same, slowly unwinding.

  ‘Oh shit.’ Val’s voice is still working anyway.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I say. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she says, ‘think so. You?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  I’m so battered by it all, not physically, but in my head. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t even know if I should be doing it.

  ‘Come on, Sarah, we’ve got a little girl to find. We need to find Mia.’

  Tears brim in my eyes when she says Mia’s name.

  ‘Look at me. Look at me. We can do it,’ she says. ‘We can do it, Sarah. We can change things. But not here. We need to find her.’

  ‘What if we should be keeping away from her? If Adam’s not there and I’m not there, maybe her future will be different, her number will be different. I read it, Val. I read Mia’s number in Adam’s book.’

  ‘It’s today, isn’t it?’

  She knows. How does she know?

  ‘You said you didn’t read it.’

  ‘I didn’t. He told me.’

  ‘He told you. I don’t believe it. He said he never tells people’s numbers.’

  ‘It was after he saw her for the first time. He was so shook up when he got home. It just came out.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve seen it every night since I fell pregnant with her. The end. How it happens.’

  ‘Except that it won’t be like your nightmare, because Adam’s not here. So it’s different already. Whatever happens, Sarah, you should be there. She’s your daughter. I wasn’t there for Terry, and I regret it more than anything …’

  The two of us are on the edge of tears now.

  ‘Come on, Sarah. Let’s do this.’

  She grunts as she gets back onto her feet and I wonder whether it’s just her normal aches and pains or if she’s been injured. She sets her mouth in a thin line and reaches for a bike.

  ‘You lead the way,’ she says to me. ‘I’ll follow. I’ll be right behind you.’

  It takes us about half an hour to get to Hampstead. As we get nearer, my spirits start rising. I’ve been dreading this, but the houses round here aren’t too bad. There are whole rows still intact. If you ignore the odd broken pane here and there, tree branches where they shouldn’t be, you can almost imagine that the earthquake hasn’t hit here. Almost.

  Then I see it – a column of smoke rising up from the rooftops two or three roads away. I stop the bike and stand watching, as my guts turn to water inside me.

  ‘Is it …?’ Val’s drawn up alongside.

  I put my hand up to my mouth and nod.

  ‘I can’t do it,’ I say, and my words are whispers. ‘I don’t think I can.’

  Val reaches over and puts her hand on my shoulder.

  ‘You have to. She’s your daughter.’

  ‘The house … my parents …’

&n
bsp; ‘I’m going to be there with you. We’re here now. We’re here.’

  I swallow hard.

  ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Let’s go.’

  Chapter 67: Adam

  I’m so close behind them. If I was a dog I could pick up their scent. I wish I was a dog – then I’d know I’m on the right track.

  I’m full of doubt, worried I’m chasing across London to the wrong place, and all the action will be somewhere else, somewhere I don’t know about. But I try not to think about that. I’ve decided what to do – I’ve got to do it now.

  Getting to Nan’s it was so dark I couldn’t see the big picture. Now, in the light, what the quake’s done is mind-boggling. Something so solid, so big, so complex – a whole city – is just a pile of rubble. With so many buildings down, there’s more sky in London now. And today is sunny, the first bright day for weeks. Too bright for comfort. It’s hard enough working out which way to go, without being dazzled as well.

  I keep my eyes down, away from the sky and I try not to look at the people gathered here and there, the bodies laid out in the street. There’s so many stories here. I’ve seen them coming, they’ve lived in my head for months, and it was true. It was all true. Maybe I should be pleased? What I tried to tell people has happened. I was right, wasn’t I? But I don’t feel like that, not even a bit. I feel the horror of it, right through me, in my bones. I feel empty and useless. I tried to help and people died just the same, hundreds and hundreds of people. They’re still dying all around me.

  Only I don’t want to stop trying. I don’t want to give up. I look up every now and again, searching ahead of me for Sarah or Nan. I’m getting close to Sarah’s neighbourhood now. Some of the houses seem okay, and I start to let myself believe that it’s going to work out. I’ll get there and find them, Sarah and Nan and Mia, and maybe they’ll be having a row with Sarah’s parents, and maybe Nan will be giving them a piece of her mind … and then I see the smoke, a column of black billowing up into the blue sky.

  And I remember …

  Sarah’s nightmare.

  The flames.

  The heat.

  The terror.

  I stop for a moment, and put my hand up to my face. The flames. The heat. I’ve been there before. I know what it feels like. Sweat’s pouring off of me from my run, but I’m cold as ice inside.

  The smoke rises and I think, This is the one place I shouldn’t be. I should turn and walk away and maybe Mia will be saved. But it’s the chicken in me talking. I’m scared of fire. I’m scared of dying. But I know I’ve got to do it. Sarah’s seen it, a vision of how it’s going to be. I’m there with her, in her nightmare. She’s terrified. She hates me. I take Mia away from her.

  But I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m here to save Mia. I hate the numbers. I want to change them. I want to wipe them out, and if I can’t, then I’ll die trying.

  Chapter 68: Sarah

  All I want, all I’ve wanted since they took her away from me, is to see Mia again. To hold her in my arms.

  When I see the smoke rising up over the rooftops, I know it’s my house, and I’m plunged back into my nightmare. It’s been running on a loop inside my head for a year, while outside, in the real world, life has been teasing me: Here’s your daughter, here’s Adam, it’s coming, it’s coming true. Now, I know that this is the time when the two come together, fantasy and reality, the future and the present. But it’s twisted, unexpected. I’m here with Val. There’s no Adam. But with or without him, I’m going to have to do it. I’m going to have to walk into my nightmare.

  I feel sick to my stomach.

  I don’t know if Mia’s alive or dead. I feel that she’s alive but maybe that’s wishful thinking. I know her number now. I’ve seen her death sentence.

  As Val and I cycle up to the house, it’s as though I’m outside it all, watching a film … or a dream. The muscles in my legs tense as I press the pedals. My hands, sore and bleeding, grip the handlebars, but I don’t feel the pain. The air is full of the acrid smell of smoke – burning buildings, burning furniture, burning people. The sounds are the sounds of people and fire, no traffic, no aeroplanes, just the crackle of flames, and the cries and shouts of people in distress.

  I don’t have time to think about coming home. I don’t have time to notice that the street is pretty much the same, except for two trees and a lamp post lying across the road. The gates to the house are open.

  The roof timbers are ablaze, belching black smoke into the sky, crackling and popping.

  I drop my bike on the drive and run towards the house. There’s a crowd of people gathered there. I push my way through. In the middle of it all are Marty and Luke. They’re sitting on the ground, among a sea of legs. I dive down next to them on the gravel.

  At first they don’t seem to realise it’s me. Of course, I’ve shaved most of my hair off since I left, and it’s been a few months.

  ‘Luke, Marty, it’s me, Sarah.’

  Two pairs of eyes search my face, and then Marty lurches forward and flings his arms round my neck, while Luke starts crying.

  ‘Where’s Mum and Dad?’ I ask.

  ‘In there.’

  ‘Is there a baby?’

  Marty nods.

  ‘The baby was staying with us. She kept crying all the time.’

  ‘Is she in there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where? Upstairs? Downstairs?’

  He shakes his head. I look over to the house. The front bedroom has collapsed onto the room below.

  ‘Were they at the front? In the sitting room?’

  He shrugs.

  Someone taps me on the shoulder. I look up and see a woman, Mrs Dixon, who lives a couple of doors down the street.

  ‘Sarah?’ she says. ‘Is that you?’ She’s looking at me like I’ve just landed from another planet.

  ‘Yes, it’s me. I’m back.’

  ‘Where did you …? Your parents … your parents.’ As she looks towards the house, there’s a blast from inside and a window is blown out, glass, frame and everything.

  ‘Get back. Get back everyone!’

  ‘Mrs Dixon,’ I say, ‘will you take the boys out onto the road for me? It’s too dangerous here.’

  She frowns.

  ‘Of course, but where are you going …?’

  The front of the house is blazing, so I sprint towards the side, shielding my face from the heat as I squeeze down the path. The kitchen’s at the back. Peering through the door, I can see a man lying face down on the floor. ‘Oh God.’

  It’s my dad. I know it is.

  ‘What is it?’ Val’s next to me.

  ‘Nothing. There’s someone in there. On the floor.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Val, go back. Go somewhere safe.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to help.’

  I haven’t got time to argue with her. I try the handle of the kitchen door but it’s locked. I pick up a plant pot and smash through the glass. Then I reach through and turn the key, and I’m in.

  Dad’s sprawled on his front, motionless. I bend down and put my hand on His neck. It’s cold. I press down, trying to find a pulse. There’s nothing. He’s gone. The kitchen’s a mess, but there’s nothing to show He’s been hit by anything. It looks like He just fell where He was.

  Even dead, I’m scared of Him. I’m expecting Him to suddenly open his eyes, grab my hand or shout out.

  Stop it, Sarah. Stop it. Leave him. He’s gone. Where’s Mia?

  Val’s standing behind me.

  ‘Is he …?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  I walk towards the hall, and shout out, ‘Hello? Hello? Is there anyone here?’ The hall is blocked with fallen masonry. There’s no way through, no way Upstairs.

  I cup my hands and try again. ‘Hello?’

  There’s no answer, except the creaking of the timbers above our heads, the steady trickle of debris and ash down in front of us. There’s heat too, coming from above.

&nb
sp; Then I hear it. I stand perfectly still, and listen. It’s a sound I know so well, it’s part of me. Val’s behind me in the hall. She’s shouting too. I turn round and put a hand on her arm.

  ‘Shh. Listen.’

  ‘It’s too dangerous, Sarah. We should get out of ’ere.’

  ‘Can’t you hear her?’

  She stands and cocks her head to one side.

  ‘No, Sarah. I’m sorry, I can’t.’

  There’s an almighty crash above us, and the sickening sound of timber being torn apart. We grab each other and duck down together, arms protecting our heads.

  I cry out as something big hits my shoulder. The noise seems to go on for ever; splintering, groaning, stuff showering down all around us. When it finally goes quiet again, I open my eyes a fraction and peek through the shield of my arms. I can hardly see the hall any more. More of the ceiling has come down, taking the banisters and half the stairway with it. The front of the house is on fire, but so’s the back too now. There are flames all around us. I uncurl a little and look up. I can see right up into the roof where there’s a hole, three or four metres across, open to the sky. The gap’s creating a draught because there are flames too, being sucked in from all around it and roaring out and up.

  ‘Oh shit,’ Val says, ‘we’ve got to get out of ’ere. Sarah, we’ve got to get out.’

  Her hair is covered with dust and ash, and there’s more raining down on her, settling on her face, her eyelashes.

  ‘I heard her, Val,’ I say. She looks up at the roof and then down at me again. Her eyes are wide with fear.

  ‘I don’t think you did,’ she says. ‘I think you wanted to hear her.’

  ‘Don’t you think I know my own daughter’s voice?’

  ‘Yeah, but …’

  ‘She’s alive somewhere. I know it.’

  She puts her hands on my shoulders.

  ‘Half this house has gone already. She could be anywhere.’

  ‘She’s near. I heard her. I can’t leave her. She needs me.’

  ‘It’s not safe. We’ve got to go.’

  ‘I can’t leave.’

  ‘Sarah, if she’s under there,’ and she nods towards the heap where the sitting room would have been, ‘then we can’t get her from ’ere. We’ll need to go in from the top. We need to go back outside while we still can.’