Autumn The City Page 0,49

'Why ain't they moved any of the bodies yet?' asked one of the soldiers, thinking out loud, his voice muffled by his face-mask. 'And what the hell are those others doing outside? said another, watching through a back window as a quickly growing crowd of moving figures dragged themselves pointlessly along the road after the transport.

'If these people are sick then what the hell are they doing out here in the open? It's pissing down for Christ's sake.' 'Who says they're sick,' asked Thompson. 'These are supposed to be the survivors, aren't they?' 'Have you seen them?' the other soldier replied nervously, his mouth suddenly dry. 'Jesus, look at the state of them. They've got fucking scraps of clothes on and they don't look like they've eaten for weeks. Bloody hell, this lot look as bad as the dead ones on the ground.' Cooper shuffled around to look out of the window nearest to him. The temperature outside was low and the thick glass was smeared with condensation. He wiped it clear with the back of one gloved hand and peered out into the afternoon gloom. 'Christ...' he muttered under his breath. The world outside the window looked as if it had been totally drained of all colour. Perhaps naively he had expected to find a disorganised and unkempt but otherwise relatively normal city scene - after all, he thought, there hadn't been any fighting on the streets, had there? This didn't sound like it had been a war or battle which would cause damage to buildings and property. Where he had expected to see a thousand familiar colours, however, he instead saw little more than a thousand different dull shades of grey and black. And the same was true of the people he could see too. Devoid of all energy, they were dragging themselves along with painful effort and a lack of any speed and almost all coordination.

It was as if they'd given up all hope. They had reached the city centre. The driver slammed on the brakes and for a second the only sound which could be heard inside the transport was the driving rain pounding against the metal roof just above the soldier's heads. The troops sat back into their seats and waited apprehensively for the order to move to be given. 'Okay,' the officer in charge yelled from his position at the front of the powerful machine, 'I want you outside now. Get a perimeter formed around the transport. Move!' The nearest soldier pushed open the heavy door at the back of the vehicle and led the others outside. In a well rehearsed manoeuvre the troops fanned out and formed a loose circle around the machine. The driver remained behind the wheel - ready to get them away quickly - while the officer in charge stood shoulder to shoulder with the men and women under his command. Cooper stood motionless and stared into the city. Torrential rain drenched the grim scene like a mist. He watched the water run down a gutter towards him. A short distance from his feet lay several rapidly decomposing bodies. The world looked completely alien and unfamiliar. He had been to this city before. He had driven along this road. Today it was unrecognisable. The people were approaching.

Difficult to see at first because of the gloom and the low light of the day and their drained and ragged appearance, they dragged themselves towards the soldiers. Silent, awkward and desperate, they neared the troops. 'So what are we supposed to do?' hissed Lance Jackson, a twenty-two year old soldier who looked no older than seventeen. He shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, holding his automatic rifle tight against his chest. The commanding officer forgave his lack of discipline. He was scared too, although he didn't allow himself to show it. 'Keep your nerve, son,' he said from close behind, resting a reassuring hand on Jackson's shoulder. 'Just remember that these people are going to want help and answers from us, and we're in no position to provide either. Stay calm and alert and we'll...' His words faded into silence as he watched the first bodies stagger ever closer. They were near enough for the soldiers to be able to see their pained faces, ravaged by disease and decay. Each one of the troops seemed to focus on whichever one of the pitiful, bedraggled creatures was nearest. The commander watched a dead thirty-eight year old office worker lurch towards him.