Saving Rowan

Chapter 1: Rush

 It was her birthday, and the world was ending.

All around her people rushed past her, screaming, crying, clutching their valuables. It was pointless, of course. They would all die. But even as she thought this, Hannah's legs were taking her faster, faster, through London.

This morning, Hannah had woken up and got dressed for school. She taught at a local primary school where she also took her son, Rowan, who was five years old. It had all been going well. She'd even got the kids to sing her "Happy Birthday", under guidance from her, of course, and listened with her heart swelling even as they sang off key, because it was for her. It was the first time in three years since anyone had sung that song for her.

A harsh beeping noise stopped a few singers as they turned to stare curiously at her back pocket. Her phone was vibrating, beeping loudly. A couple of the kids started to cry noisily. And there, on the screen: "Meteorite inbound. Please take shelter."

She wanted to take the rest of them with her, of course she did. But it was too far and too hard, and she couldn't carry them all. She hoped they understood. Of course, she wasn't even sure why she was running at all because the world was ending.

She loved kids, always had. Being a teacher was her dream job. But with the wage teachers got, it was only just enough to feed her and her three-year-old son. The father, a tourist from America, had got her drunk in a bar, and the next day she was pregnant, cast from the family for carrying an illegitimate son inside her that she hadn't asked for. Nevertheless she had vowed, while the pregnancy test was still clamped in her hand, that her son would never know how he came to be. She'd raise him as though he was legitimate. Her child. 

He had fallen asleep in her arms, like when he was a baby. A curl of dark hair swept down over one eye as she ran, but she couldn't take the time to brush it away.

She didn't know where she was running, or why. Maybe she should just give up, settle under a bridge or find a place to sit and watch her city die. The part of her that just wanted to stop chimed in. Your legs hurt, and so do your arms, it said. If you stop now and close your eyes, it will all be over soon.

Gunshots rang in the distance as if to emphasize the point.

It was true. Her arms felt like lead. Her thighs ached. Her lungs, painful, and her throat was dry. Still she ran, on and on. Because the other voice in her head fought back. What about Rowan?

So she kept going.

A little girl's Barbie doll lay abandoned in the street, charred and still smoking slightly. The sight tore her heartstrings. This was a child's toy, one cherished, and now burnt and left alone.

A tiny foot caught her eyes, poking out from under a sheet of metal. Hannah covered her mouth with one hand, tears spilling from her eyes. She ran, pelting over, hoping against hope that the girl was still alive, but when she pulled the metal off the girl's eyes stared sightlessly up at a sky filled with smoke she couldn't see.

It was only for a second, but for a second Hannah saw Rowan, limbs splayed and clouded eyes, the child she hadn't saved, and her heart beat faster like a fluttering bird leaping from a branch.

And then he grizzled and batted at a teardrop crawling across his forehead, and she knew he was safe and so she clutched him closer and continued on, her feet pounding across the concrete. Past houses aflame, scattered belongings, and even the odd spots of blood. She ignored those.

A car! There was a car!

A sleek black car. Sitting quietly in the street. The doors were dented and the driver's side window was smashed. But the back was intact. The perfect getaway vehicle.

Keys.. where were the keys?

A glint of silver. There.

She bent down to pick up a shiny silver key ring. On it were three keys, one presumably a house key, one labeled with unintelligible writing and one that was distinctly a car key. Attached to the ring was a pink rectangle with an image of Hello Kitty. I wonder who the car belonged to, Hannah thought to herself. A diplomat? Certainly someone important.

Hefting Rowan up onto one shoulder, she threw open the driver's side door and got a shock. A man with dark hair and a disheveled dark blue suit lay stretched over the two front seats. He didn't look as if he was a Londoner, tanned and slightly muscular, but the most noticeable thing about him was that a good chunk of the side of his head was missing.  Hannah's gut churned and she was almost sick. But she had to be strong if they were going to survive.

She gently set Rowan down on the broken concrete. He moaned a little and shifted, but he didn't wake. It took a lot of effort to drag the dead man out of his car with her shaking arms, but she took him down the street and propped him against the wall of an apartment block which for the most part looked untouched. For a moment she pondered drawing a message in the dust on the ground, something simple, maybe sorry, but she was out of time.

She ran back, and as she got back in sight of the car her eyes swept for Rowan. He wasn't where she left him and her heart rate began to rise.

"Rowan?" she screamed, voice breaking. "ROWAN?!"

He turned at the sound of his name. There he was in the back seat of the car, a small slab of cracked concrete in his hands ready to eat.

Hannah raced over, heart beat still thundering, and slapped the concrete out of his hands before he could bring them to his mouth. He started to wail, still a small boy deprived of his prize, and she felt guilty instantly but then remember what kind of situation they were in. Gently, she propped him up against the seat and fumbled for something for him to play with in her pockets. One, two, nothing but fluff. Number three yielded a tiny stuffed toy fox. His face lit up when she pulled it out, almost snatching it out of her hands. She took the opportunity to buckle the seatbelt over his little chest.

With Rowan placated and no longer trying to consume concrete, Hannah was free to drive. Luckily the key fitted and the car started almost immediately with a deep purring sound. Tires screeched on pavement and there was a distinct smell of burning rubber as the car skidded out of the cul-de-sac and off in search of a road which could take them out of this doomed place.

But Hannah had forgotten one crucial detail, something so big that of course she'd missed it.

There were almost nine million people in the city and most of them had had the same idea.

The roads were absolutely packed with cars, bikes, trucks and all kinds of vehicles.

Hannah and Rowan weren't going anywhere.

And the meteorite continued to approach London.

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*!!WORK IN PROGRESS!!* It will be updated whenever I feel like it. :D Hope you enjoyed so far, its moderately close to being finished so I will keep working on it. Thank you!