The Planet Stealers

Chapter 3. The Unexpected Visitor

I WANDERED IN slow motion towards the window ledge to scan the catastrophe-struck city, as if in a dream which was slowly, inexorably turning into a dismal nightmare as I reviewed my situation. I had an excellent view from my highly positioned office, on the 38th floor no less. The destroyer's intention was successful; all the buildings as far as I could observe were untouched. Not even a broken window. The streets were empty of people. I could see cars, taxis and buses below, but no sign of any life. There seemed a total lack of colour though. The explosion of radiation had shaded grey the streets and buildings. The one park I could spy had been transformed into a grey and brown desert, devoid of grass, trees and bushes. There was that eerie silence. No life. Nothing. Only a ghoulish breeze swept through city, bathed in a new strange slightly pinkish hazy sunlight.

It was then that I had flung the newly obsolete five-pound coin out from my humble perch and had my dignified shave...

So here I am. Leaning back in my office chair. I quickly decided there was no point in moping about. So, all my friends were gone, and London my home town murdered, but at least I am still here. I intend to live on with hope in my heart. There must be some other survivors. There must be. If Anna had made it into her bank's safe, she'll be alive. There safe makes mine look like a matchbox.

Rubbing my chin, I considered a few points. Was it the fate of the World to be devastated by nuclear war? Had, in fact, any countries survived? I doubted whether they had, since from what I had read, all parties had well enough Dark Energy filtrated atomic weapons to destroy the whole planet. And it was plain that any force starting the war by striking the first blow would not only commit murder but suicide as well. It was strange that this abominable act should have taken place on humanity's anniversary of her first manned landing on the surface of another world, the Moon, July 21s, 1969. Though it's thirty years later now, it surprises me that we have landed no further persons anywhere else in the Solar System, not even on Mars, where there was talk of exploration as early as the 1970s. Humanity became more involved in Earthly affairs, and the major use of space travel became merely military. Most of the satellites generally became weapons or spying devices. Come to think of it, there were a handful of astronauts, from various nations orbiting up in the space station during the catastrophe. It must have been terrible for them to look down on the dying Earth, once their beautiful, aspiring, impressive, sociable and loving home. I'm sure they can return to Earth anytime they like. Surely they won't need ground control to implement a re-entry and landing.

I wonder who had started the damn war anyway. Was it the Russians, the Chinese, the French, the Americans or perhaps even us, the British? I couldn't make my mind up between these, but I was sure none of the rogue countries were responsible. It did, however, seem a little strange to me that the atom war had taken place at a time when everyone on the Earth was just beginning to get on so well after a decade of minor wars and major terrorism had plagued the Earth. Obviously the lull before the storm.

Suddenly... "Huh!" I exclaimed. I thought I heard the same voice that I had earlier heard hailing a taxi, only this time it sounded more like it was screaming, "Help me! Help me!" I listened... Nothing. Must be my imagination. I suppose in the absence of once familiar noises, my brain was inventing them. I had to do something positive, something active soon or I would surely go mad. I had to get out of the office, it was pointless sitting here any longer.

First, I would go to the Central Bank and see how their contingency plan had worked out. God, it would be so good if Anna had survived. I'd have a real reason to live. But in my heart of hearts I had convinced myself she had died. I didn't want to raise my hopes only to be devastated by them being ultimately and cruelly crushed. She only had gotten inside the bank's safe. It was not just any safe, but the largest in all of Great Britain and furthermore it was kept well below the surface and was made of that glorious element lead. One of the main reasons it an been made of lead was to protect its contents from one of the more harmless forms of radiation: X-rays. This was so nobody could see into the safe who wasn't supposed to. Also, just the pure density of lead made it difficult physically break into. Well, maybe not... Anyway, its contents would be safe from a Dark Energy filtrated radiation sweep—and it would be more than fine and dandy if one of those contents was my dear Anna. God, I need her more now than ever I did before. My heart must be bleeding inside my chest with yearning.

Suddenly...

"What was that?"

Another of those strange sounds. I thought I could hear someone coming up the corridor stairs. Oh, dear, will my imagination ever stop playing tricks on me? I'm sure the imagined sounds are getting louder each time I hear afresh lot. The silence was doing my head in. I was reminded of memories of when I was child where in the darkness of my bedroom I had often thought that I had heard the sound of someone creeping up the stairs. But there never was anybody. My father, God rest his newly departed soul, told me it was the "Bogey Man" who wanted to frighten children when they were mischievous. At the time, I accepted his explanation. When I grew up, I came to the conclusion that the phenomenon was a trick of the human mind. As humans we are always projecting thoughts into realities. Given an insufficient piece of information, we generally tend to extrapolate our own. We can't help it? We hear a creak on the stairs. We associate it with a stepping foot. Then another creak. Now we hypothesise that something is climbing up the stairs.

Dragging myself back to reality, I realised I was thirsty and hungry. I had already managed to polish off some bottled water I had on my desk, but my sandwiches were small piles of grey and white dust. The only food that would have survived the radiation would be that with a high sugar content. I never did understand the science that explained why that was the case. And maybe it wasn't. But in the Italia Refectory down in the basement, there's plenty of candy bars and the like. So I'll soon find out.

Then...

The strange sounds returned. However, this time it really did sound like someone climbing the stairs. And then it sounded like someone was limping along the corridor, making horrendous gurgling noises.

Just then, my office door burst open, and I realised that my previous imaginations were actualities. I was confronted by the most repulsive sight I'm sure any human being had ever witnessed. It was absolutely horrifying. Obviously a mutated human, but man or woman, I could not tell.

"Help me! Help me!" the unfortunate creature croaked in agonising tones.

Instinctually, I backed away, my hands reaching for the back of my desk. My eyes were filled with horror and I felt a great nausea coming on. I couldn't take my eyes off the deformed monstrosity. As the mutant slithered towards me, arms, no stumps, outstretched, I was forced to observe the grotesque mutilation in fine detail. Its eyes were peeping out of' shrivelled, wrinkled skin, "burnt" by the radiation. The space where its nose was supposed to be was just a mesh of scarred purple and yellow coloured skin. The mouth seemed rigidly set in the open position with bubbles emerging as it gasped for the air of life. And its head was covered in a mixture of pus, dried blackened blood, bald patches and singed hair. Its clothes were just blood stained shreds enwrapping a totally disfigured body. Only the feet looked possibly normal, covered by what looked like half-melted blue Wellington boots.

The mutant slithered further towards me, and for the first time I realized that it smelt of death itself. The stench was unbearable, like an overflowing sewer, only more potent.

Still, it crept even closer... Pleading for help, and although it was hideous, a blemish from head to foot, I became aware of a growing sense of pity for the poor creature. But what could I do?

My question was answered for me. Suddenly it buckled and fell in a heap before me. I heard one last gasp of air slowly die away, like a punctured tyre. Liquid gushed out of its mouth, coloured white, red, purple and yellow. Then the mutant remained motionless; and although its eyes were staring into mine, the spark of life had left them.

Quickly, I bolted out of my office and leaned against the corridor wall to collect my thoughts.

So, I wasn't the only one who had survived and perhaps there would be more mutants. I then decided that I would need a weapon, for who knows what dangers lie before me? The weapon I could pick up in one of the sports shops on the way to the Central Bank. But first, I'll visit the refectory and hopefully grab some sugary food—the only kind that should have survived the radiation sweep.

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I hope you enjoyed this Chapter. I welcome any votes, comments or constructive criticisms (style, spelling, grammar and punctuation errors).

T. J. P. CAMPBELL.