Hater

28

It's eleven o'clock and Lizzie, Harry and the kids are sitting in the living room. There's something happening outside. The others haven't noticed yet. I don't want the children and Liz getting upset again so I haven't said anything to anyone. It started about half an hour ago. I've heard heavy vehicles moving in the distance and the occasional scream or shout. I've also heard gunfire.

I've tried looking through every window in the flat but I can't see what's going on out there. I have to know. I make sure the others are all distracted then creep out of the apartment. I stop halfway across the lobby. Everything looks just as it did when I was out here yesterday but today the building feels different because of what's upstairs. I stop at the bottom of the staircase and, just for a second, I think about turning round and going back into the flat again. I'll get a better view from the flats on the other floors but I'm worried about going upstairs. I don't think there's anyone else up there - the car belonging to the people on the top floor is still missing and I can't hear anything. But what about the body? I know the man on the landing is dead but have I got the balls to pass his corpse? My head is suddenly filled with stupid nightmare images of his lifeless hands reaching out to grab me. The sound of another gun shot in the distance spurs me into action. I take a deep breath and run up the stairs, not stopping until I've reached the flat on the top floor. I peer in through the half-open door to make sure it's still empty then step inside.

There are only two floors between our flat and this one but the view from up here is completely different. Those extra few feet of height make all the difference and from here I can see for miles around. I can see almost all of our estate and I can see the city centre in the distance. This morning the world looks like the TV footage that gets sent home by war correspondents. The skyline is dark and grey. Dirty, thick smoke is climbing from the blackened shells of burnt-out buildings. There's nothing much left of the medical centre on Colville Way. The streets are deserted.

How am I supposed to protect my family from this? I can sense the danger increasing almost by the second and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I think of the kids downstairs and I feel terrified and helpless. They're depending on me and I don't know what I can do to keep them safe.

I can see movement in the distance now. Can't see exactly what it is from here. I turn around and grab the video camera I saw when I was up here yesterday. Christ knows what the men who lived here used it for. I've got no interest in finding out. I take the camera over to the window and switch it on. There's hardly any battery power left. I find the zoom lens control and set it so that it's focussed as far as possible into the distance. It takes me a few seconds to aim the camera in the right direction and to relocate the movement I've just seen.

I think I'm looking at the area around Marsh Way but I'm not sure. Whatever the name of the road I'm watching is, there are two large green-grey trucks driving along it. On either side of the trucks are lines of uniformed figures. Bloody hell, they're armed soldiers wearing what looks like full battle gear. They have masks or visors obscuring their faces. The trucks stop mid-way along the street and the guards which surround them split into smaller groups. Some remain close to the back of the vehicles while others move towards the houses on either side of the road. From here I can only see one group of figures clearly but I guess they're all doing the same thing. It looks like a house-to-house inspection.

The trooper at the front of the group hammers his fist on the door. Christ, they're not waiting to be invited inside. Four of the soldiers in the group of five force their way into the house as soon as the door is opened. The fifth uniformed figure follows them inside carrying something. It's difficult to keep the camera focussed from this distance and I can't tell whether it's a clipboard or one of those tablet computer things he's holding. They all disappear into the building and I wait for them to re-emerge. And I wait. And I wait.

Elsewhere along the street the same thing is happening. Groups of soldiers are splintering away from the trucks and are checking each house in turn. I look up from the video camera viewfinder screen for a second and catch sight of more movement in another road nearby. Same thing's happening again. I squint as the sun breaks through the heavy cloud for the first time today and I can see at least two more clusters of trucks and soldiers working their way along other streets, all within a few hundred meters radius of each other. I focus back on the house I was originally watching in Marsh Way as the five soldiers march back out and immediately turn their attention to the building next door, leaving a dazed and bewildered middle-aged couple to timidly close their front door behind them.

There are helicopters flying over the town. Strange. Maybe they're coordinating the movements of the troops on the ground?

The soldiers I've been watching have forced their way into another house now. They reappear in less than a minute, this time dragging someone behind them. I can't make out whether it's a man or a woman but they're kicking and punching and doing all they can to get away. I can see that it's a woman now. She's only half-dressed. They've turned her around and they're marching her towards the nearest truck. She's still fighting. As they push her towards the back of the vehicle she somehow manages to free herself from the soldiers' hold. She starts to run down the road and… and now I can't believe what I'm seeing. One of the soldiers steps forward and raises his rifle. Instead of chasing after her he simply shoots her in the back. Two of them pick up the fallen body and throw it unceremoniously into the back of one of the trucks.

They must finally be flushing out the Haters. Thank God for that.

It's about time. I hope the bastards get everything they deserve.

29

It's a relief knowing that someone finally appears to be taking control of the situation. The soldiers on the streets is the first indication we've had that the authorities are at last doing something to help us. I'm glad, but I'll be happier when they've been and gone from here. I don't say anything to the others. I don't want the kids and Lizzie getting upset again.

My head is spinning. I'm finding it harder and harder to cope with being trapped inside the safe room with the rest of the family. This intense claustrophobia is killing me. We've been sat together for hours and hardly anyone has spoken apart from the children who fight and bicker constantly. I know they can't help it but they're really beginning to piss me off. Lizzie and Harry don't seem bothered by them. Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's the thought of the soldiers outside. I'm getting increasingly anxious sitting here waiting for the inevitable knock at the door.

I use going to the toilet as an excuse to get up and get out of the room. I close the living room door behind me and lean up against it, relieved. The atmosphere in there was oppressive and the air out here is much cooler and fresher. I stumble down the hallway and pause at the front door. Should I go upstairs and check the streets again? What if the army is here already? How would it look if I opened the door and ran head-first into one of those patrols? They might think I was a Hater. Would they give me any chance to explain before aiming their rifles at me?

I use the toilet then traipse towards Ed and Josh's room. I climb up onto Ed's bed like I did yesterday and stare out of the window for a while. I can't see anything. If I ignore the bodies then everything looks quiet, still and relatively normal out there. It's deceptive. Under the surface the whole world is tearing itself apart.

My head hurts. I'm tired of thinking constantly about everything that's happening. I just want to switch off for a while.

I roll over onto my back, close my eyes and wait for the knock at the door.

30

I hear movement inside the flat, away from the safe room. Don't know how long I've been lying here on my own. Must have fallen asleep. I feel sick. I need to get a drink. I sit up, swing my legs out over the side of the bunk and climb down. My body aches as I stretch and stumble down the hallway.

Someone's in the kitchen. I move closer and see through the open door that it's Harry. He's standing at the sink with his back to me, making a drink or washing up or something. I take a step through the door and into the room with him and then stop. Don't know why. Something's not right. I don't want to go any closer. I can taste something in the air and it makes me feel uneasy. No, it's more than that, it makes me feel unsafe. Harry stops what he's doing. Does he know I'm here? For what feels like forever neither of us moves. Then he slowly turns around. Is he…?

Jesus Christ. I stare deep into the old man's eyes and I am frozen to the spot with fear. Can this be the same man? He glares back at me with cold, steely eyes filled with an inexplicable hate and disgust. I can sense his revulsion of me coming off him like a stench and I know that for some inexplicable but undeniable reason he wants me dead. He wants to destroy me. My legs become weak with nerves as I realise that the hate has finally arrived in my home.

Harry moves suddenly and I react at speed. He takes just a single step forward but it's enough and I know that my life is in danger unless I act now. An overwhelming instinctive desire for self-preservation takes over as I move away from him. I look over to my right. On the worktop is our wooden knife-block. I grab the black-handled bread knife and pull it from the block like I'm unsheathing a sword. In a single movement I charge towards Harry and plunge it deep into his flesh, just above his waist. I put my other arm around him and pull him closer to me, forcing the blade deeper and deeper into his gut, twisting it round as I push it forward. I feel its serrated edge slice through his skin and cut through muscles, veins and arteries and I shove it deeper into him until the entire length of the knife has disappeared. I feel a sudden flow of hot blood as it gushes out over my hand and I let go of the knife and push Harry away. He trips back. His legs buckle beneath him and he collapses to the floor, smacking the back of his head against the oven door as he falls. I stand over him. He's still breathing but he won't last long now. I have to be sure that he's dead.

There's a scream from the doorway - a shrill, ear-piercing yell - and I turn around and see Lizzie and the children. She looks at me with the same cold expression as her father and I sense the hate again. I pull the knife out from the dying man's gut and lunge towards her, knowing that she has to die too. She backs away, dragging the children out of the room with her. Edward and Josh stare angrily at me with as much hate as their mother.

'Daddy!' Ellis screams. I look deep into my little girl's face and I know instantly that she's not like the others. She's like me. She hasn't changed. I run around the edge of the kitchen table and reach out for her but I'm too late. Her mother has already grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and has pulled her out of reach. Her tiny, tear-streaked face is filled with fear and shock and her eyes bulge wide as Liz yanks on her clothing, hauling her away from me. Ed glares at me. Even Josh despises me. My sons despise me and I know that I have to destroy them too.

I hurl myself towards Lizzie again, knowing that I have to kill her before she can hurt me and before she can harm Ellis. She shouts at the children to move and they run down the hallway towards the living room. Edward pulls Josh's pushchair across the hall and I trip over it, ending up on my hands and knees. Before I can get up and get to the living room they slam the door shut. I hear the bolt click across.

What the hell do I do now? How did this happen? How could my family turn against me so quickly? I have to forget about them and get to Ellis. She hasn't changed and I know that she needs me. I pick myself up and run at the door. I smash my shoulder into it but it doesn't move. I run back and charge it again and again and, the fifth time I hit it, I feel the bolt give way. I try to force the door open but it only moves a couple of inches. They've pushed furniture against it to stop me from getting inside. Why are they doing this to me?

I hammer my fists against the door.

'Ellis,' I shout. 'Ellis!'

I can hear her. She's trapped in there. I can hear her screaming back at me. She's like me, not them, and she needs to be with me. She's not safe in there. I'm desperate. I can't leave her. I throw myself at the door again and the force of the impact shakes my whole body to the core.

'Ellis!' I yell again. I can still just about hear her muffled reply.

There has to be another way to get to her. The window. I'll get in through the living room window. I turn and run back down the hallway, past the body in the kitchen and out into the lobby. I push the front door open and burst out into the cold, rain-soaked world outside. Now that I'm out in the open I'm aware of noise all around me. I can hear the helicopters, the military trucks, gunshots and the sounds of people like me fighting to survive. It's like being in the middle of a war-zone. But this isn't the noise of one war being fought, it's hundreds of separate clashes. Hundreds, probably thousands of battles fought by people like me who've been turned on and betrayed.

I'm at the living room window. I look inside. Lizzie is still piling furniture against the door. Edward spots me almost immediately and Lizzie shoves the children into the corner of the room. Ellis is trapped behind Edward and Josh but I can still see her. I can still see her face. She's crying and mouthing my name.

I look around for something to use to smash the glass. There's a broken paving slab halfway down the path to the front door. I pick it up and manage to throw it through the window. The glass shatters and the noise is uncomfortably loud. I can hear their voices again now. I can hear Lizzie screaming at them to keep back and keep away from me. I drag myself up and climb through the window frame, feeling shards of glass digging into me and slicing my skin. The pain doesn't matter.

I force my body through the window head first and collapse onto the carpet. I quickly get up but my footing is unsteady and I'm off-balance. Lizzie is running towards me. She has something in her hands - it's the metal tube from the vacuum cleaner. She swings it at me. I try to duck out of the way but I'm too slow and she hits me.

A sudden burning, searing pain across my face.

Blood pouring from my nose and into my mouth.

Face down on the carpet. I can't…

31

The living room is cold and silent. I slowly prise open my eyes. I don't think there's anyone else here. The pile of furniture has been moved and the door is open. Rain is blowing in through the smashed window and the backs of my legs are wet. I try to sit up but the pain is too much and I let myself fall back down again.

How long have I been lying here?

I start to remember what happened. I work my way backwards. I remember Lizzie hitting me. I remember the look of hatred on her face, matched only by the similar expressions on Edward and Josh's faces. I close my eyes and try to pull myself together. Watching my partner and children run from me and knowing that they have such hate for me hurts more than the physical pain I'm now feeling. I feel empty, betrayed and scared. I can't explain anything that's happened. I don't know why I killed Harry, I just know that I had to do it. I can't explain why almost my entire family turned against me so quickly and so completely. I can't explain why Ellis didn't turn either. Christ, I have to find her.

I force myself to get up. My body hurts and every movement is difficult. Very slowly, using the arm of the sofa for support, I manage to stand. I catch sight of myself in the mirror that hangs over the gas fire. My right eye is black and swollen. One of my front teeth is loose and I can taste blood at the back of my throat. When I see the state of my face I start to really feel the pain. I drag myself into the kitchen and step over the body on the floor to get myself some water.

That's better.

The water is ice-cold and refreshing and it helps clear some of the dullness from my spinning head. I stand over the sink and wash my mouth out, spitting blood into the bowl. I stare into the pinky-red water and try not to look at Harry lying dead at my feet. What the hell happened? The kitchen floor is covered with his dark crimson blood. His lifeless eyes stare up towards the ceiling and I can feel them burning into me. I don't regret what I did - I had to kill him before he killed me - I just need to understand why…

I turn off the tap and, apart from the occasional drip of water, the flat is otherwise silent. Could Lizzie have taken the children and hidden upstairs in one of the other apartments? I slowly walk towards the kitchen door, listening carefully. I know in my heart they've gone.

Fuck.

A sudden realisation hits me like a punch to the guts, more painful even than the physical and emotional blows I've already taken. Thinking about the flats upstairs has made me remember the body on the landing and the Hater's words to me when he lay there dying. 'Be ready for them,' he said to me, 'it's them, not us. You see everything clearly when it happens to you.' Jesus Christ, he looked at me and saw another Hater. I'm one of them. It's the only logical explanation. How could Harry, Lizzie, Edward and Josh all change at the same time? It stands to reason that I'm the only one who is any different. I can't explain how or why, but when I looked into their eyes I knew immediately that the others weren't like me and that they were a threat. I sensed revulsion coming off them. I looked at my family and I feared them and that explains why I did what I did and why so many others have killed before me. I had to attack them before they attacked me. All except Ellis...

Keep calm I try to tell myself as I run down the hallway and go out into the lobby. I look out through the front door. Damn, my car has gone. Bloody hell, they've taken the car and now they could be anywhere. I'm struggling to think straight and my panic-induced nausea has returned. Keep calm, I say to myself again. Think logically. Where would they have gone? Their options are limited. They could have gone to Harry's house but that's unlikely with him lying dead on the kitchen floor. Most probably Lizzie will have taken them to her sister's place. I'll look for them there.

I'm cold. My clothes are wet and are soiled with both Harry's blood and my own. I'll get changed, get some things together and then go and find Ellis. I don't know where we'll go once I get her back. We can't come back here. This place isn't safe anymore.

32

I'm washed and changed and ready to go but I can't bring myself to leave. The reality of what has happened is finally hitting home. The adrenaline and nervous fear has disappeared and now I'm left feeling empty, confused and scared.

I've realised I've lost everything.

I'm standing in Edward and Josh's bedroom now just looking around. It's too painful… I can't put into words how this is making me feel. I know that my boys are within touching distance but somehow I also know that they're gone and I'll never be with them again. I pick up a toy - a piece of nothing, just a cheap plastic hamburger meal giveaway gift - and it fills me with pain. Josh had this about three weeks ago. Harry gave us some money. We were out late and we filled the kids up with fast food. It was the first time Josh had had a meal to himself. He was so proud of it. He spent more time playing with this bloody toy than he did eating his burger.

I have to let them go.

I go through to the bedroom that Lizzie and I shared and I pick the bag I've packed up off the bed. The wardrobe door is open. I look along Lizzie's clothes rail and all the different outfits I see remind me of so many times. It fills me with a gut-wrenching sadness. All the memories I have - every second of the life I've led since I first met her - suddenly means nothing.

It would have been easier if they'd died. I know what I am now, and I know that Lizzie, Edward and Josh are different. I don't understand the differences between us, but I know beyond any doubt that they are insurmountable. I know that I'll never be with my partner and children again. As for Ellis… she's like me and I'll fight with my last breath to get her back.

I'm trying to shift the body in the kitchen. In spite of the hate I saw in Harry's eyes I don't want to leave him like this - half-dressed and twisted and slumped in the corner of the room. I pull his feet to try and straighten him out but his limbs are stiff and unresponsive. I fetch a duvet from the bedroom and drape it over the corpse.

While I'm trying to move the body there's a noise. I get up and run to the living room to look out of the broken window. Two army trucks have pulled into the road and I know that I have to get out of here quickly. I don't know for sure anymore whether these soldiers will help me or turn against me but I can't take any chances. What about the woman I saw shot dead in the street earlier this morning? Was she like me or like the others? Was she a Hater too?

Move. Get moving now and don't stop. But where do I go? The trucks are getting closer. I swing my bag up onto my shoulder and run out of the flat and into the lobby. Where now? Will they check the flats upstairs? Could I risk hiding there? I know I have to get myself away from here and I sprint towards the rear exit. I try to open the fire door but it's padlocked shut. Christ, how long has it been like that? What would have happened to Lizzie and the kids if there'd been a fire? Doesn't matter now. I look back and I can see movement right outside the apartment block. They're coming. Keep moving. Just keep moving.

The door to the other ground floor flat is open. I'm inside it now and it stinks. No-one's lived here officially for the last six months but it's been used regularly by tramps, junkies, dossers and God knows who and what else. Its layout is a mirror image of my flat. I run through to the kitchen and force the window above the sink open. I can hear soldiers inside the building now. I can hear their heavy booted footsteps in the lobby. I scramble through the window and jump down into the overgrown communal back garden. I'm out. Without thinking I run through the long grass to the end of the garden then quickly scramble up the muddy bank which separates our block from the gardens of the privately owned houses which back onto us. I run along the ends of the gardens until I reach a tall wooden fence. I have to try and climb over it. I drag myself up, the muscles in my arms burning with effort, and manage to swing one leg over the top of the fence. I flick myself over and fall onto the pavement on the other side, landing painfully amongst the dog shit, litter and weeds. I stand up, brush myself down and run on.

33

The safest place to hide, I decide as I sprint, is somewhere I know the soldiers have already been. I double back on myself and head down the road which runs parallel with Calder Grove before cutting across a couple more streets and finally reaching Marsh Way. This is the area where I saw the soldiers patrolling when I watched from the top-floor window this morning.

The road is empty. There's no sign of the military presence I saw here earlier. I stand in the shadows under a tree at the end of the street and look up and down. There's no sign of any kind of presence at all. Everything is completely still. Nothing's moving here now. Nothing except me.

I notice that the front door of one of the houses on the other side of the road has just opened slightly. I run towards it and push my way inside. I meet the owner of the house dragging a bag of rubbish down the hall, about to throw it out. He looks up and I know immediately that he's not like me. I have to kill him.

'Who the hell are you…?' he starts to say. I throw myself at him, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and pushing him further back into the house. I keep moving, feeling strong and in control but not knowing where I'm going or what I'm doing. We trip into a filthy kitchen and I slam him against a wall cupboard. His body rocks back with the impact. He struggles and tries to fight me off but I know I can kill him. I have strength, speed and surprise on my side. I put my hand over his face, grip tight and smash his head back against the cupboard door. He's still fighting. I pull his head forward and smash it back again, harder this time. And again. Once more and still harder, so hard now that I feel something crack - not sure if it's the door or his skull. Again and he stops fighting. Again and he slumps down. Again and it's done.

I drag the body across the floor and leave it lying out of the way in the corner of the kitchen. Then I close and lock the door and finally stop to catch my breath and plan my next move.

I've never felt like this before. Part of me still feels devastated and empty because of what's happened to me today. Part of me suddenly feels stronger and more alive than I ever have before. The way I killed the owner of this house was so out of character and yet it felt right and it felt good. I feel like I could take on a hundred thousand of them if I have to.

I am a Hater.

Sat here in one of the bedrooms of this untidy and squalid little house I've finally managed to fully accept that I am a Hater. The title seems so wrong now but I can understand why it was originally given. To those on the outside - those who haven't felt what I'm feeling now - our actions could easily be misinterpreted as being driven by hate. But they're not. Everything I have done today has been in self-defence. I have killed to prevent myself from being killed. Those people, those 'normal' people, are the ones who create the hate. I can't explain it. I can see it in their eyes and I can almost taste it in the air around them. It's like a sixth sense, an instinct. I sensed it coming off Harry and that was why I killed him. It was the same with the man downstairs and it'll be the same with the next one I meet. I'll keep going and I'll keep killing for as long as I have to.

And now I finally begin to see where this is going. At last I'm starting to understand why this whole crisis has seemed so endless and directionless from the outset. It's us against them. There's not going to be a drawn match or a ceasefire or any political negotiations to resolve this. There won't be an end to this fighting until one side has prevailed and the enemy lies dead at their feet.

It's kill or be killed.

Hate or be hated.

The light is beginning to fade and I'm ready to move. I've waited until now hoping I'll gain a little cover and protection from the darkness. I take some food from the kitchen (there's hardly anything worth salvaging) and am ready to head back out into the open.

In the short time I've spent in this house my mood and emotions have been swinging and changing constantly. Half of me feels excited and alive because of what I have become. Part of me feels free and unrestrained for the first time in as long as I can remember and I'm relieved to have finally walked away from the parts of my life I detested. I feel physically strong, determined and full of energy and yet all of this counts for nothing in the moments that I find myself thinking about the past. Lizzie and I would have been together for ten years next year. We've brought our children up together and, although we've had our moments, we've always been close. All of that has gone now and it hurts. I may be a Hater, but I still feel pain. I wish that Liz, Edward and Josh could have changed too. I have to stop thinking about them. I'm struggling to make sense of my emotions. I still love them but at the same time I know that if I had to I'd kill them in an instant.

As I walk through the house something catches my eye.

In the living room, on a small round table next to a dirty, threadbare and obviously well-used armchair, is a booklet. A government-produced booklet. It looks clean and new and yet it's strangely familiar. I pick it up and start to leaf through its pages. I remember receiving something similar through the door a few months back when there was some terrorist threat or other. The booklet is pretty generic, telling the public what action to take in the event of an emergency. It covers bomb threats and natural disasters, that kind of thing. It tells people to stay in their homes and tune in to the radio or TV for updates. It's also got information about administering basic first aid, what supplies to maintain and emergency contact details. At the back are several pages full of propaganda and rubbish - how the country is prepared for all eventualities and how the emergency services will spring into action at the drop of a hat, that kind of garbage. There are some loose pages that have been added to the guide, and when I look at them I realise that this booklet was most probably given to the owner of this house by the military after their visit / inspection / clean-up operation today. The absence of any real facts is unsurprising and it immediately smells like more political bullshit. Still, it's interesting to read what they're finally telling the rest of the population about people like me.

The pages talk about what's happened to us as being an illness. It implies that this is some kind of infection or disease that causes a form of dementia but it skirts around the issue and doesn't use such direct language or present any hard facts. It says that a small proportion of the population - they suggest no more than one in a hundred people - are susceptible to 'the condition'. It talks about symptoms, saying that people who are affected will become delirious and will, at random, attack people violently and irrationally. Fucking idiots. There's nothing random or irrational about what I've done today.

What bothers me most of all is what I read on the final extra page. The booklet explains how affected people are being rounded up and taken away and 'treated'. It doesn't take a genius to work out that's the reason for the trucks and the soldiers working their way through town. So what does this so-called treatment involve? From what I've seen it's limited to a bullet in the back of the head.

I'm wasting my time. I don't want to read any more. I shove the booklet into my bag and, after checking the street outside is empty, I leave the house and its dead owner behind. I'll make my way across town to Liz's sister's house and bring Ellis home.

I feel strong. Superior to all of the people who haven't changed. I'm glad that I'm the one in a hundred. I'd rather be like this than like them.

34

I feel like I've been running for miles but I've slowed down now. I've reached the edge of town and there are fewer buildings and shadows to hide in. I don't want to be seen. I could have taken a car but there's nothing else on the roads now and I would have drawn too much attention to myself. I've lost track of time. It's early evening and the light has almost completely gone. I'm cold, soaked through by the heavy rain that's been falling for the last hour or so, but that's just a minor physical discomfort and I still feel surprisingly strong.

I don't know how long I've been outside now but so far I've seen only a couple of other people. The air is still full of noise as the military try to expose us and flush us out into the open but the streets are empty. I know there's supposed to be a curfew at night but I'm sure that's not the only reason why there's no-one around. Being out in the open is too dangerous. Those few people I have seen - the occasional solitary figure that creeps carefully through the shadows like me - I have kept away from. I don't want to risk making contact with anyone. Will they be like me? Perhaps they will but I can't afford to take any chances. They could be like the rest of them. I'll kill again if I have to but I'm not looking for trouble. Finding Ellis is more important. Tonight it feels as if the 'normal' part of the population have been driven into hiding in fear of us.

I think I'm probably about halfway between my flat and Liz's sister's house now. I had planned to walk all night but I think it will be sensible to stop and take cover soon. There are helicopters over the city again now and I feel exposed. Instinct tells me it'll soon be too much of a risk to be out alone in the darkness with the military swarming through the streets and the skies. If I thought it was safe to keep going I would. I'll take this opportunity to rest for a while and eat.

I can't stop thinking about Ellis. My poor little girl is stuck in the middle of a group of people who will turn against her at any time and without any warning. She's in danger and there's nothing I can do to help her. It might already be too late but I can't allow myself to think like that. I've consciously tried to block them from my mind but I find myself thinking about Lizzie, Edward and Josh again. Remembering them fills me with an overpowering sadness and remorse. I wonder if they might eventually change too? Could whatever has changed within me be buried somewhere inside them also? I'd like to believe it could but I don't hold out much hope. The government information I read earlier (if any of it was correct) said that just a small percentage of the population were likely to be affected. I sensed a difference between Ellis and the others too. She and I are alike. We're different to them, I can feel it. I have to accept that the rest of my family are lost.

I'm heading out of the city now. I look back over my shoulder and see that although there are still lights on in many buildings, there are also huge swathes of town which are bathed in darkness. The power must be down. It's inevitable, I suppose. This 'change' (whatever it is) might only be affecting a minority, but it's repercussions are being felt everywhere. It's tearing society apart as quickly as it destroyed my family.

I turn a corner and walk straight into another body coming the other way, the first person I've come across for some time. I immediately tense myself, ready for the kill. I push the dark figure back and clench my fists ready to strike. I stare through the darkness into the other person's face and… and it's okay. There is no anger, no hate and no threat. The mutual unspoken feeling of relief is immense. This person is like me and we both know that neither of us has anything to fear from the other.

'You okay?' I ask, keeping my voice low.

The other person nods and walks on.

***

I can hear engines in the distance. The military are still moving through the dark city behind me and they are closer now. There are more helicopters crawling through the sky too. I can see four of them hovering ominously, sweeping over the streets and occasionally illuminating the ground below them with impossibly bright spotlights. It's definitely time to get under cover.

I cross over a low stone bridge which spans a silent railway track. Ahead of me is the dark silhouette of a huge factory or warehouse and, on the other side of the road, a building site. As I get closer I see that it's the beginnings of a new housing estate. There are a few houses almost completed just off the main road and they are surrounded by the shells of other partially constructed buildings. The half-built walls and wooden frames jutting up into the air make it hard to tell whether the houses are going up or coming down. It's a silent and desolate place and it seems a sensible place to stop and shelter for a while.

The paving slabs and tarmac beneath my feet give way to gravel and dirt. I follow the muddy and uneven route deeper into the centre of the building site and find myself walking along a row of six homes of varying shapes, sizes and degrees of construction. The ground has been so badly churned by machinery here that it takes me a while to realise that I'm actually walking through the future back gardens of these buildings, not across the front. I wonder whether any of these houses will ever be finished now? The three furthest from me appear to be the most complete and I head towards them. Their windows and doors are covered with grey metal grilles. All except the middle one of the three. The grille which covered the space where its back door was intended to go has been prised off. It's lying on the ground in a puddle of mud, buckled and useless. I'm standing in front of the doorway now looking inside. Has someone been here? I realise that there could still be people inside but I need to stop. Should I go in? Is it safe? Sensing that no-where's safe anymore I climb the step and cautiously enter the building. If there is anyone in there and they're not like me I'll kill them.

Footsteps in the darkness. Sudden movement.

I try to move back but before I can react a figure is on top of me. My legs are kicked out from under me and I'm sent flying back across the hard concrete floor. I can't see anything. I try to kick and punch myself free and stand up but before I can move I'm knocked back down again. I can feel someone pressing down on my ankles and someone else has their hands on my shoulders, keeping me flat on the ground. There's a third person in here. I can see their shadow moving past the doorway.

'Think he's safe?' someone asks. They switch on a torch and the unexpected brightness burns my eyes.

'Turn it off,' I hear another one of them say in a loud, relieved whisper. 'He's all right.'

As quickly as the hands grabbed hold of me they now let go. I shuffle back across the floor, putting as much distance as I can between me and whoever else is in here. The light in the half-finished house is limited and I'm struggling to see anything. Someone's moving just ahead of me. I know there are at least three people in here but are there any more? The torch is switched on again.

'Take it easy, mate,' one of them says. 'We're not going to hurt you.'

I don't know if I believe him. I don't know if I believe anyone anymore.

The figure holding the torch shines the light into their own face. It's a man, perhaps mid-to-late twenties. I know instantly that he's like me and that I'm safe with him. And if this man is no threat then the people who are with him are no threat either.

'What's your name?' he asks.

'Danny,' I tell him, 'Danny McCoyne.'

'Been like this for long, love?' asks a woman's voice.

'What?' I mumble back.

'Been long since it happened?' she asks, rephrasing her question. I assume she's talking about what happened at home when I killed Harry and lost my family.

'Few hours,' I mumble, my throat dry. 'Not sure…'

'I'm Patrick,' the man holding the torch says, holding out his hand. I'm not sure whether he wants me to shake it or whether he's going to pull me up. I reach out and he helps me to stand. 'Happened to me three days ago,' he continues. 'Same for Nancy here. That's Craig,' he says, pointing the torch at the third person across the room. 'Yesterday afternoon, wasn't it, Craig?'

'Just after dinner,' Craig answers. Patrick shines the torch at him but it only illuminates a small part of a huge expanse of belly. Craig is immense.

'So what happened?' Nancy asks. 'Anyone close?'

'My partner's dad,' I explain, feeling some sadness but no remorse or guilt over what I've done. 'He just turned on me. Thought he was going to kill me so I…'

'Had to get him first?' she interrupts, finishing my sentence for me. My eyes are getting used to the darkness in the house now. I can see Nancy nodding and I immediately know that she completely understands what I had to do and why I had to do it, even if I'm still not sure myself. 'Everything will start to make more sense soon,' she tells me. 'I was just the same when it happened to me. Hated myself for doing it but I didn't have any choice. I'd been with John for almost thirty years and we'd hardly spent a day apart in all that time. It was just like someone had flicked a switch. I knew I had to do it.'

This is in danger of turning into a comedy of errors. Have they all killed? I ask the question without realising I'm speaking out loud.

'Suppose it just depends where you are when it happens,' Patrick says. 'Craig hasn't killed anyone yet, which is a surprise when you look at the size of the bugger!'

Nancy takes up Craig's story.

'Tried though, didn't you, love,' she sighs. In the circle of torchlight I see him nod. 'Bunch of them had you cornered at work, didn't they?'

'I was picking orders in the warehouse with four of them,' the giant of a man explains in a surprisingly soft voice. 'Didn't know what was happening. I started on one of them but there were too many. They shut me in one of the offices but I managed to get out of a window. All I could do was run.'

This conversation is bizarre and uncomfortably surreal. It only becomes believable again when I remember the fact that I've killed twice today. How could that be? Christ, until this morning I hadn't even hit anyone in temper, let alone killed them. Patrick passes me a bottle of water which I drink from thirstily.

'What about you?' I ask him.

'I killed,' he answers. 'Don't know who the guy was, I just had to do it like the rest of you. He was just stood there staring at me as I was getting into the car…'

'…and?''

'And I mowed him down. Started the engine, chased him down the street and I mowed him down. Pretty much wrote the car off too. Just kept driving along with him under the wheels. I didn't know what else to do. Tried to go back home but when I got there I saw that my girl was just like the rest of them and…'

'…and you know the rest of the story,' Craig grumbles. 'You just have to do it, don't you?'

'It feels like second nature,' Patrick says quietly. 'It's instinctive. It's animal instinct.'

The room falls silent.

'So what happens now?' I ask.

'Who knows,' Nancy answers. 'My guess is we'll just keep killing each other until either we're all gone or they are. Crazy, isn't it?'

It's hard to get my head round the fact that this woman (who looks like any other average wife / mother / daughter / sister / aunt) is talking so matter-of-factly about killing. In the days since she's changed she seems to have relinquished every aspect of her former life and is now prepared to kill to stay alive herself. At moments like this it all seems beyond belief. Nancy looks more likely to bake you a cake than kill you. I shake my head in bewilderment as Craig gets up and drags a wooden board across the open doorway, blocking out the last shards of light coming in from outside.

35

'So how much of it have you worked out then?' Patrick asks. We're both upstairs in what was probably destined to be the master bedroom of the half-finished house, sitting with our backs to the recently plastered wall. The sky has cleared now and the moon is providing limited but welcome illumination through the grille over the window. I'm tired and I don't want to talk but I can't avoid answering his question.

'Haven't got a bloody clue what's going on,' I answer honestly. 'This is as close as I've managed to get,' I say as I take the folded-up booklet from my bag and pass it to him. He scans the pages by the light of his torch and smiles wryly to himself.

'Good stuff, this!' he laughs sarcastically.

'Took it from a house I hid in,' I tell him. 'Doesn't say much.'

'When did you last get anything from the government that did?'

He shuts the booklet and throws it down onto the bare floorboards.

'It's not like there's anyone you can ask about it, is there?' I say. 'I still don't know if anyone really knows what's happening.'

'Someone knows,' he mutters, 'they must do. You can bet that from the second the first person changed, some government department somewhere has been analysing us and cutting up people like you and me and…'

'Cutting up people?'

'I'm exaggerating,' he continues, 'but you know what I'm saying, don't you? They'll have had a team of top scientists sitting in some lab somewhere working out what's happened to us. They'll be working on a cure.'

'You reckon?'

He shrugs his shoulders.

'Maybe. Whatever happens they'll be trying to find a way of stopping us doing what we do.'

I know he's right. We're a threat to them. Far more of a threat than any enemy they might have battled with previously.

'I don't want to be cured,' I say, surprising even myself with my admission. 'I want to stay like this. I don't want to go back to being one of them.'

Patrick nods and switches off his torch. In the darkness I find myself thinking about Ellis again. I know that it's only a matter of time before she changes if she hasn't already. I've tried to convince myself that she'll be all right but I know that as long as she's with the others she's in danger. The hardest thing to come to terms with today - harder even than everything I've lost - is the fact that Lizzie, the person who carried my little girl and who has provided her with more safety and security than anyone else, is now the one who poses the biggest threat to her. The pain I feel when I think about Ellis tonight is indescribable. Maybe I should try and get to her now. Poor little thing doesn't know what's going to happen. She hasn't got a clue…

'Don't say a lot, do you?' Patrick pushes. He's beginning to get on my nerves but I sense that he has a need to talk. He's as nervous, scared and confused as I am so I don't retaliate.

'Not much to say, is there?' I grunt back.

'So who are you thinking about?'

Very perceptive. I pause but then decide to answer him. Maybe it will help.

'My little girl. She's like us.'

'Why isn't she with you?'

'Because of her mother. I was in the house with the whole family when it happened. I knew that Ellis was like me and I tried to get her but…'

'But what?'

'Lizzie got to her before me. Smacked me around the face with a bloody metal pipe. Next thing I knew she'd gone and taken all the kids with her.'

Patrick shakes his head.

'Too bad,' he mumbles. 'Hurts when you lose them, doesn't it?'

I nod, but I don't know if he notices my response.

'What about you?' I ask. 'You said something earlier about your partner…'

He doesn't answer for a few long seconds.

'Like I said, I managed to get back home after it happened. You know almost before you see them that they haven't changed, don't you? I did what I had to do.'

I don't know what he means by that. Did he kill her? I quickly decide that it's probably not a good idea to ask. For a moment I think that's the end of the conversation but then Patrick speaks again.

'Got it all wrong, didn't they?' he says.

'What?'

'The papers and the TV and all that,' he explains, 'made us out to be the villains of the piece, didn't they?'

'To them we are.'

'Made it out to be us that hated them…'

'I never hated anyone,' I tell him, 'at least not like they said on the news.'

In the moonlight I watch as Patrick nods knowingly. He's not stupid. He's spent the last three days thinking about what I've only had a few hours to try and understand.

'Know what I think?'

'What?' I reply, yawning.

'They called us the Haters, because from their perspective all we're doing is attacking and killing. That's how it looked to me before I changed. You agree?'

'Suppose.'

'But the fact of the matter is that everybody hates. They're just as bad as we are. They want us dead as much as we want to get rid of them. You can feel the hate coming off them, can't you? Even if they're not capable of showing it like we are or dealing with it like we do, they want us dead. So all we're doing is protecting ourselves. You just know that you have to do it, don't you? You have to kill them before they get to you.'

'We're as bad as each other then,' I suggest.

'Maybe. Like I said everybody hates, we're just better at dealing with it than they are. We have to look after ourselves and if it means destroying them, then that's what we have to do.'

'Problem is they feel exactly the same…'

'I know. But they're not as physical or aggressive as we are and that's where we have the advantage. They don't move quickly enough. They'll pay the price eventually.'

'So what is it that's changed?' I ask. 'And why now? Why has this happened to some of us and not others? Why has it happened at all?'

'Now that's the big question, isn't it? That's the one I can't work out the answer to, and you can bet we won't find any clues in your bloody government brochure either.'

'But what do you think's caused it?'

'Don't know. I've come up with about a hundred possible explanations so far,' he chuckles, 'but they're all bullshit!'

'Is it a disease? Have we caught something?'

He shakes his head.

'Maybe we have. The way I look at it there's two possible explanations. Either it is a virus or something like that, or maybe something has happened to everyone. People like you and me have been affected by it, the rest of them haven't changed at all.'

'Something like what?'

'I don't know… maybe someone put something in the water? Perhaps the planet's drifted through a cloud of bloody space gas or something! Maybe it's just evolution? Nature taking its course…'

Patrick chuckles to himself again. The room then becomes silent and the quiet gives me chance to consider what he's just said. He could be right. If this was a virus or disease, surely more people would have been directly affected? Everything is so screwed up tonight that all of his disjointed and unsubstantiated theories sound plausible.

'So how many people like us do you think there are?' I ask, knowing that he can't do anything other than guess at the answer.

'No idea,' he replies. 'Last thing I remember hearing they were talking about a small minority of people, and that's what it says in your booklet here. But I think it's bigger than anyone's letting on. Chances are no-one knows how big it is.'

'And how widespread? Surely this can't just be happening here?'

'It spread up and down the country quickly enough, didn't it? So if one country's been affected…'

'…then why not everywhere else?'

'Exactly.'

'So where does it end?'

More silence.

'Don't know. Don't even know if I want to think about it. We have to keep fighting to stay alive, and you can bet they're going to be doing exactly the same thing. So we can only keep running and keep killing,' he replies, 'because if we don't get them, they'll get us.'

36

Patrick has finally shut up. I lie on the cold floor and try to sleep and rest my brain and my body. I can't stop thinking about Ellis. In the morning, I decide, I'll carry on towards Liz's sister's house and look for her there. I just pray that nothing happens before I reach her.

In the morning I might risk taking a car for speed. I feel strong and calm and I'm prepared to walk the rest of the way but I'll be quicker driving, albeit much more exposed and vulnerable. It doesn't seem to matter now. What I'm doing feels so right. The life I've left behind seems more alien and unnatural with each passing minute. I wouldn't go back to it now, even if I had the choice. I just wish that Lizzie, Edward and Josh could be like Ellis and me.

There's more noise outside. It's early in the morning - two or three o'clock I think - and there's a constant stream of sound coming from the middle of town. I can hear more trucks and helicopters. More patrols flushing people out. Whatever happens tomorrow I know I'll have to leave here. I don't want to stay in one place for too long. I'll keep moving until I find Ellis and then, when I've got her back, we'll run together. We'll find somewhere safe where there are more people like us, well away from those that hate us. And if we can't find anywhere safe then we'll kill and destroy as many of them as we have to. It's like the man said, we have to kill them before they kill us.

I'll sleep now and make my move at first light.