Hater

SATURDAY

37

'Get out!' a terrified voice screams over a god-awful noise. 'For Christ's sake, get out of here!'

I sit up quickly. My body aches from sleeping on the bare floorboards. The half-built house is filled with a deafening thumping sound. I run to the window and push my face against the grey metal grille, desperate to see outside. There's a helicopter hovering nearby. It's not directly over the building site but it's close enough and I know that it's people like us they're looking for. I look around and see that I'm alone. Patrick's gone but his stuff is still here.

Shit. There's a truck at the end of the gravel track and soldiers are already piling out of the back of it and running towards these houses. I have to move. I grab my bag and head for the door. I can hear a loudhailer outside, someone shouting a warning about standing still and not moving and… gun fire. I run back to the window and look down again and now I can see Craig face down in a puddle of mud, a rifle-wielding soldier standing over his fallen bulk with his still smoking gun aimed at the back of his head. I can see Patrick and Nancy too, both trying to get away. More troops swarm around them quickly, cutting off their escape route as another truck arrives.

I have to get away from here. Maybe I could get up into the loft space and hide or should I just try and make a run for it? Is it too high to jump down from one of the windows up here? I can't allow myself to get caught. I have to get out of here and get Ellis. Now I can hear footsteps downstairs. Loud, heavy, clunking footsteps. Christ, they probably already know I'm up here. I run towards one of the smaller back rooms and meet a masked soldier coming the other way. I try to push past him but the fucker punches me in the face and before I can react I'm flat on my back looking up at the ceiling. I try to stand up but rough hands grab my arms and I'm dragged downstairs. There's no point fighting I think as I try not to panic. My only option now is to wait until I'm outside and then try to run. But then I think of that poor bastard Craig, face down, riddled with bullets. Co-operate with them I decide, despite the fact that every single nerve, sinew and fibre of my body wants to fight these animals and destroy them.

I'm dragged through the hallway and kitchen and then out of the building. They shove me towards the truck where Nancy and Patrick stand trembling. I trip and fall to my knees in the mud close to Patrick's feet.

'Get up!' one of the soldiers screams in my ear and a hand grabs me by the scruff of my neck and pulls me up. Patrick looks at me. I see desperation, terror and frustration in his frightened eyes.

What now, I think to myself? Come on, if you're going to kill me just do it. Let's get it over with. There are guns pointed at us, but surely they'd have shot us by now if they were going to? I look up at the nearest soldier. A dark visor obscures his eyes but I can sense the hate coming off him like the stench of decay. Two more uniformed figures emerge from the front of the first truck and walk towards us. One of them is carrying one of the flat computers I've seen them using before. The other has a smaller electronic device held in one hand. I can't see what it is. They move quickly. One of them shoves me back against the side of the truck while the other holds the small device up to my throat. There's a split-second hiss of air then I feel a sudden, stinging pain in the side of my neck like an insect bite. They let me go and turn their attention to Patrick then Nancy, doing exactly the same to both of them. Bizarrely they then use the machine on Craig's dead body.

We stand in a line at the side of the truck, silent and not daring to move. The soldiers connect the handheld device to their computer and study the screen.

'Well?' asks one of the other troops from a short distance away.

'All of them,' the computer operator replies.

'Any IDs?'

'Just one, Patrick Crilley,' he says, pointing at him. Patrick looks anxiously from side to side. 'Can't match the others.'

The first soldier turns away and makes a dismissive hand signal to the other troops who still surround us with their guns raised. I bite my lip and force myself not to react as one of them grabs my shoulder and pushes me towards the back of the truck.

'In,' he grunts. I stand my ground and stare into his visor. Two more of them come at me from the side and, grabbing a leg each, they lift me up and shove me through a grubby tarpaulin cover and into the truck. I land flat on my face in the darkness and, before I can move, Patrick and Nancy land heavily on top of me. My face is pressed hard against the dirty floor and I'm shoved further down as the other two struggle to disentangle themselves from each other.

'You're all right,' a voice that I don't recognise whispers from close to where I've fallen. 'You're with friends here.'

Whoever's on top of me manages to drag themselves up onto their feet and I'm finally able to get up myself. I try and stand but the engine of the truck is started and the sudden lurching movement as it pulls away causes me to fall again. Someone helps me up and, for the first time, I'm able to look around. I count the dark shapes of seventeen other people in here including Patrick and Nancy. The light is poor but I know immediately that they're all like me. Seventeen men, women and children just like me.

38

We've been driving for what feels like hours but I know it hasn't been anywhere near that long. We paused another five (might have been six) times to pick up more people but it's been a while since we last stopped. There are now twenty-eight of us in here I think. It's a relief to be with so many people like me but space is limited and it's hot and bloody uncomfortable in here. I assume the truck is full now, so where the hell are they taking us? My home and family and everything else that's gone seems a million miles away. I know that the distance between me and Ellis is increasing with every minute I spend trapped in this bloody truck.

The tarpaulin cover over our heads blocks out most of the light so it's difficult to see much in here. I've managed to drag myself over to one side of the vehicle and someone nearby has been able to lift up a small flap of material. I can't see very much through the gap, just the edge of the road rushing by. We've not slowed to take any turnings for some time. We must be on a major road and it must be virtually empty. I'm practically blind and I can't hear anything over the clattering engine of the truck and the rumble of the wheels on the tarmac. The world feels alien and desolate and the disorientation of the journey makes it a hundred times worse.

The few faces I can make out nearest to me appear beaten, empty and expressionless. No-one understands what's happened to them or why. People are too frightened and confused to talk and so remain silent and subdued. There's no conversation, just the odd whispered word. I wish there was some distraction. Without anything else to occupy my mind all I can do is remember Ellis and also think about what might be waiting for me at the end of this journey. Where are we being taken, and what's going to happen when we get there? Someone near the back makes a half-hearted attempt to open the back of the truck. For a few seconds an escape seems possible until we find that the tarpaulin has been secured from outside. We're trapped in here.

There's a girl sitting next to me who is gradually becoming more and more agitated. I've consciously tried not to stare at anyone in the semi-darkness but I've seen enough to know that she's young and pretty although her face is tired and grubby and is streaked with tears. She's in her late teens I think, maybe older. She's leaning against me and I can feel her body shaking. She's been sobbing for some time. Christ, I'm scared, how the hell must she be feeling? She looks up at me and makes eye contact for the first time.

'I feel sick,' she whimpers. 'I think I'm going to be ill.' I'm no good at dealing with vomit. Please don't throw up, I think to myself.

'Take deep breaths,' I suggest, 'it's probably just nerves. Try and take some deep breaths.'

'It's not nerves,' she says, 'I get travel sick.'

Great. Without thinking I hold her arm and start to rub her back with my other hand. It's more of a comfort for me than anything else.

'What's your name?' I ask, hoping that I might be able to distract her and take her mind off how ill she's feeling.

'Karin,' she replies.

And now I'm stuck for something to say. What can I talk to her about? If she's anything like me she'll have found she's suddenly become a homeless, family and friend-less killer. There's no point trying to make small talk. Bloody idiot, I wish I hadn't said anything.

'Do you think we're going to be in here much longer,' she asks, her breathing suddenly shallow.

'No idea,' I answer truthfully.

'Where are they taking us?'

'Don't know. Look, the best thing you can do is try and take your mind off it. Just find something else to concentrate on and…'

It's too late, she's beginning to heave. She grabs my hand as she starts to convulse. I try and turn her around so she can be sick out through the small gap in the tarpaulin but there's not enough space and not enough time. She throws up, splattering the inside of the truck and my boots and trousers with puke.

'Sorry,' she moans as the smell hits me. I'm struggling to control my own stomach now. I can taste bile in the back of my throat and I can hear other people gagging and groaning in disgust all around me.

'Doesn't matter,' I mumble. The inside of the truck, which was already hot and musty because of the sheer number of people trapped inside it, now stinks. It's impossible to escape the smell but I have to try and do something otherwise I'll shortly be adding to the stench myself. I stand up, holding onto the side of the truck for support and, now that I'm upright, I notice a small rip in the tarpaulin at my eye-level. I look closer and see that it's a seam which has begun to come undone. I push my fingers into the gap and try to open out my hand. As I stretch my fingers the stitching holding the material together frays and comes apart. Finally some welcome daylight and much needed cool, fresh air is able to flood into the truck. Not giving a damn about the consequences I shove both hands into the rip and pull as hard as I can in either direction. The gap increases in size to about half a metre and I can hear the relief of the people around me.

'Can you see where we are?' a voice asks from somewhere on the other side of the truck. All I can see are trees at the side of the road as we rush past.

'Haven't got a clue,' I answer. 'Can't see much.'

'You can see more than me,' the voice snaps, 'keep looking.'

I push my head right out through the canopy and try to look up towards the front of the truck. We're on a motorway, I think. The long and relatively featureless road gradually curves away to the left and, for the first time, I see that we're not travelling alone. There's another truck in front. Hold on, there's more than one. It's difficult to be sure, but I think I can see at least another five vehicles ahead of us, all trucks of a similar size to this one, equally spaced from each other. Taking care not to slip in the gross puddle at my feet I shuffle around so that I can look behind us. I count at least as many trucks again following, probably more.

'Well?' the voice asks as I pull my head back inside.

'Can't see where we are,' I reply, loud enough for everyone to hear, 'but we're not on our own.'

'What?'

'There are loads of trucks like this,' I tell them, 'at least ten that I can see.'

'So where are they taking us?' another frightened voice asks, not really expecting an answer. 'What are they going to do with us?'

'Don't know,' I hear Patrick reply in his familiar resigned tone, 'but you can bet it's going to be fucking awful, whatever it is.'

I stick my head back out of the side of the truck again to escape the stink of vomit and the nervous, frightened conversations which Patrick's accurate but insensitive comments have just started.

39

We finally slow down and the truck makes an unexpected swinging turn to the left. It's a sharp bend, too severe to be a normal motorway exit. The road we're travelling along becomes rough and uneven and continues to twist and turn for what feels like another mile or two further. Then, without any warning, the journey's over. We've stopped. My stomach churns with nerves again as the truck comes to a sudden halt and its engine is silenced. It's pouring with rain outside and the clattering noise on the roof above my head is deafening.

'Where are we now?' someone asks nervously. I dutifully shove my head back out through the tear in the tarpaulin and quickly pull it in again when I see soldiers approaching on foot. I wait until they've passed before cautiously peering back out. The truck (and the ten or so other vehicles which have travelled in convoy with us) have stopped in a line along a narrow road which runs along the edge of what looks like a dense forest. I can't see where the track goes from here. I don't want to risk leaving myself exposed like this for any longer than necessary and I close up the gap in the heavy canvas cover. I'm sure we'll be seeing where we are soon enough.

'There's not much to see,' I tell them all unhelpfully as I turn back round and crouch down again, 'just trees on that side.' The rain is torrential and I have to shout to make myself heard. The sound of the water hitting the tight cover above us is relentless. The noise combines with the lack of any strong light to increase my disorientation. I can't stand this. I wonder again whether I should just take my chances and make a run for it? What have I got to lose when I've already lost just about everything? I don't know what other options I have left. Things look increasingly bleak. Do I just sit here and wait for whatever they have planned for us to happen or do I take control of my destiny now and try to escape? The little of the forest I've been able to see so far looks pretty deep and uninviting. We're seem to be right out in the middle of nowhere and there's no way they'd be able to follow me into the trees in these trucks. They'll either shoot me in the back as I'm running or I'll manage to get away. It has to be worth taking a chance. My mind starts to fill with images of getting back home and finding Ellis again and the decision is made. First chance I get I'll go for it. Christ knows where I'll run to, but anywhere will be better than here. Do I tell any of the others what I'm planning? Do I stand more chance running with them or on my own? My instincts tell me to leave them and look after myself, but what about the rest of them? What about Karin and Nancy and Patrick? Surely the more people who run, the better our chances are of getting away…?

My stupid plans come crashing down around me as the flap at the back of the vehicle is thrown open by two rain-soaked soldiers. One of them ties the tarpaulin up, the other points the rifle into the truck. The reality of what's happening suddenly hits home again now that I'm back looking down the barrel of another gun. The plans I'd been seriously considering seconds earlier now seem stupid. More than ever I want to fight but to run now would be suicidal.

'Out!' the soldier with the rifle barks at us. 'Get out now!'

Those nearest the back of the truck immediately begin to climb out. It's a drop of several feet down to the muddy track and more than one person loses their footing and falls. Poor bastards, they've only been outside for seconds and they're already cold and soaked. One of the men in here with me - a young, slim man with long, dark hair - rushes one of the soldiers as soon as he hits the ground. Three more troopers appear from nowhere and pull him away from their colleague. Two of them throw him down and push him face-first into the grass at the side of the road. The third soldier lifts a pistol and puts a bullet in the back of his head. The frenzied attack and clinical response is over in seconds and the corpse is dragged away. There are sobs and wails of fear and disbelief from the people already outside.

I'm one of the last to leave the truck. I climb out backwards and slip but somehow manage to stay upright when I jump down. The others have been lined-up in single file on the verge between the trees and the trucks. One of the soldiers shoves me towards the line. I stand my ground for a second and stare at the trooper. His eyes are hidden and I can see my bruised face reflected in his opaque visor. I should kill him now, I think to myself. And I know I could do it too. I could snap his neck with my bare hands. This piece of shit deserves nothing more than a violent, painful and very bloody death for his part in what's happening to us. But then I look past him and see more of them lumping away the lifeless body of the man they've just shot in the head. They leave him lying in full view, unceremoniously dumped on the other side of the road, and I reluctantly take my place in the queue.

From where I'd been standing I'd only been able to see the people who'd travelled in the same truck as me. Now that I've moved I can see that the people from the other vehicles have been dragged out into the open too. The queue of people ahead of me stretches away into the distance. I line up behind Karin, the girl who was sick earlier.

'You okay?' I whisper. I glance over at the nearest soldiers but they don't react and I risk trying to speak to her again. 'Karin, are you okay?' She turns around momentarily and nods her head but doesn't speak. Her face is pale and her teeth are chattering with the cold. The rain is coming down so hard on us now that it hurts. I've only been outside for a couple of minutes and I'm already soaked to the skin. At least I've got a few layers of clothes on. Up ahead of me I can see people who are only wearing T-shirts. Some are still in their pyjamas. One old guy is just wearing a dressing gown. Poor bastards must have been taken in the night while they were sleeping. Couldn't they have let them change or given them something warmer to wear? It shows just how deep-rooted their hate of us really is and it's suddenly more apparent than ever that the throwaway comment Patrick made in the back of the truck was right. Whatever's waiting for us here is going to be fucking awful. At best they've brought us here to keep us isolated and separate from them. And the worst case scenario? I know there's a very high probability that we're here to be destroyed. They can try and kill me but when the time comes I'll go out fighting. I owe it to Ellis to take out as many of them as I can.

Christ, what about Ellis?! How could I be so stupid? I've been so wrapped up in what's happening to me that I haven't stopped to consider the possibility that my little girl might have been brought here too. What if she changed like me and was picked up by one of the patrols? I know the chance of finding her here is slim but I have to try. I can see some children in the line up ahead but even from this distance I know that my daughter isn't one of them. I turn around and try to look behind me. Bloody hell, this queue of people seems to go on forever. I can't see the end of it. I've stepped right out of line now but I don't care. Finding Ellis is more important than my own safety. I start to move further down the queue but stop when a hand grabs my shoulder and yanks me back into position. I turn round expecting to be facing a guard but it's Karin.

'Don't be stupid,' she whispers, looking around anxiously. 'Please, they'll kill you just as soon as look at you.'

I nod but say nothing. I know she's right. I return to my original place in the queue and try and force myself to accept the reality of the situation. I was taken hours after Liz took Ellis from me and in a completely different part of town from where I think they would have gone. The chances of her being here are slight. And if we're taken on from here to some other central location, I think, then there will probably be more chance of me finding her there.

I have to try and stay in control and wait for the right moment but it's difficult. I want to run and fight and destroy the soldiers surrounding us. I need to move and take action but I can't. Standing here and waiting like this is unbearable. These conditions are deceptively harsh. I'm so wet that my clothes feel heavy and their waterlogged weight is beginning to drag me down. We are all drenched with rain and numb with cold and all we can do is stand still and wait.

Sudden activity again. It's been some time but I have no idea how long has passed since we were thrown out of the trucks. I'm still managing to stay on my feet but I've seen a handful of people fall further along the queue. No-one dares move to help them. Each of us knows that to risk moving is to risk taking a bullet from the scum surrounding us. There are hundreds of people in this queue and soldiers continue to patrol the line constantly, rifles armed and primed and ready to fire. I have to concentrate hard to stop myself from breaking ranks and killing them. It's torture. Is this how they're planning to get rid of us all? Just leave us standing here in the middle of nowhere until the last one falls?

I heard a burst of radio static a few moments ago. Around half the soldiers have suddenly returned to their vehicles leaving the other half to hold their positions at the side of the queue, their weapons constantly trained on us. Now the engines of the trucks have been started again and the vehicles are moving away in convoy. They power past us at speed, showering us with mud and water from pot-holes and puddles in the road.

For the first time I can clearly see what's on the other side of the track.

Through the persistent heavy rain I can see an enormous expanse of land, empty but for a single grey-white building right in the centre. It looks like a factory, or maybe some kind of agricultural storage site or warehouse. There are two huge silos to the left and the whole scene looks strangely dilapidated and untidy. An empty tarmac track runs from the front of the building across the field to the road on which we're queuing. And now I can also see that this queue stretches all the way along the road up virtually as far as the entrance to the field. Christ, there must be thousands of us here.

There's activity all around the building in the distance. From here it's not possible to see what's happening clearly. I can see soldiers and other dark-suited figures moving constantly. Some are removing equipment from the building, others are taking things in. I have no idea what any of it is. I don't think I want to know.

Just ahead of me the sudden activity has caused someone's nerve to break. There's panic in the queue and for a second I'm struggling to see who it is and what's happening. Looks like someone has broken rank and jumped one of the soldiers. Do I use this distraction as cover and try and get away myself? Other people are thinking the same thing. At least two people are already running into the trees. Now five, six, seven… maybe as many as ten more figures are sprinting into the forest. I have to move now if I'm ever going to do it. The soldiers nearest to me are distracted and if I'm fast I can…

Fuckers. The break-out is over as quickly as it started. Two soldiers step forward and unload their automatic weapons into the trees. The people running are brought down without warning - shot in the back and killed. Many more people who were still standing in line in the queue up ahead have been caught in the cross-fire and are dead too. I know that the same thing will happen to me if I try anything.

The soldiers regroup and retake their positions. One of them makes a call on their radio and then, after a short delay, a van appears from alongside the building up ahead and drives out towards the road. It stops on the other side of the track at the point where the shooting took place. People standing in the queue are forced at gunpoint to gather the bodies of the dead and load them into the van. Helplessly I watch as two sobbing women are made to drag the corpses out of the forest and carry them across the road. An older man and a teenage girl are sent down to collect the body of the man from my truck who was shot in the head earlier.

40

The torrential rain has continued and shows no signs of stopping. The grey clouds overhead are darker than ever and the light is fading quickly. Don't think I can stay standing like this for much longer. I can't feel my feet or my hands anymore. The skin on my face is raw and I'm numb with cold. I haven't had anything to drink all day but my bladder feels full and the pain is excruciating.

I'm scared. Every time one of the soldiers near to me moves I catch my breath, not because I'm afraid of them, but because inside I'm screaming with frustration, desperate to fight and to kill the evil scum which is holding us captive here. But I know that I can't. There are too many of them and they are too heavily armed. If I dared show my intentions they would destroy me in seconds. I can't let that happen but it's getting harder and harder to keep these emotions under control. I know that elsewhere along the line other people have been unable to hold back and have paid for it with their lives. Just a few minutes ago I heard a single scream of rage followed by a hail of bullets in the gloom behind me. The silence around us now is somehow even more frightening than the sounds of fighting and death which preceded it.

As the day has dragged on it has become impossible to see either end of the line. In the low light I can only see as far as about thirty people ahead of me and a similar number behind. I'm sure that the queue has grown hundreds of people longer. Twice in the last hour or so convoys of empty trucks have driven past us. Logic says they've brought more people here and they're now back out on the streets again looking for others.

The girl in front of me is swaying on her feet again. I can't let her fall. I shuffle forward slightly and put my hand out to steady her.

'Come on,' I hiss under my breath, 'not now. Try to hold on…' I don't even know if she can hear me over the driving rain.

Something's happening up ahead. I can't see anything but I can definitely hear something. I peer into the gloom, desperate to try and see what's going on. Are people finally starting to move? For a few seconds longer I'm unsure but then an unexpected ripple of movement works its way along the line to a point where I can finally see what's happening. We're starting to shuffle forward. A sudden wave of awkward, stumbling movement reaches me and for the first time in hours I start to walk. My legs are agonisingly stiff and every step takes a massive amount of effort and coordination. For a moment I stupidly feel relieved when the pain in my aching legs begins to fade slightly, but then I start to think about what we might be walking towards and the panic returns. I know that making a run for it is out of the question for now. Just putting one foot in front of the other is difficult enough. I don't have the strength or the energy to be able to move any faster.

The soldiers continue to march alongside us, keeping their distance most of the time but occasionally hitting and shoving those of us who move too slowly or who stumble out of line. Just ahead another one of the men who travelled in the same truck as me drops to the ground. He's old and tired and he lies on the gravel track sobbing. I keep walking - I have no choice - and I listen as one of the soldiers yells at him to get back to his feet and keep moving. I wish I could do something to help. I daren't look round. I hear a single gunshot close behind me and I know that his suffering is over. My fury now feels harder than ever to contain. Despite my exhaustion the urge to turn on these soldiers and fight them - to kill them - is growing stronger by the minute and is almost impossible to suppress. It's only the obvious fact that any reaction would inevitably be the last thing I do that keeps me in line.

We've stopped again.

Almost as quickly as the movement began it now ends. I have no idea how far we've moved. I don't know how much closer to it I now am but I assume the people at the front of the queue have finally been led down the track towards the entrance to the building.

41

Christ it's cold.

The cloud cover has lifted slightly and, for a while at least, the rain has finally eased. The building up ahead has been illuminated by a series of bright floodlights which shine up from the ground and make it look like some bloody gothic cathedral or fortress. Although I can see it more clearly now I still have no idea what the purpose of it is. Is it some kind of quarantine centre? None of this makes any sense. If they've brought us out here to kill us then why not just do it? Why waste all this time and manpower keeping us in line and collecting up bodies? For some of the poor bastards here in the line with me a bullet in the head would be a relief. But maybe that's what this is all about? Maybe they just want us to suffer?

After hours of inactivity we've now made three sudden stop-start shifts forward. This time I counted the number of steps I took. I think we moved about a hundred paces forward. Logic says a similar number of people have just disappeared into the building up ahead of us.

Another convoy of recently-emptied trucks thunders past. Another few hundred people added to the end of the queue.

The noise of the trucks quickly fades into the distance but I can hear something else now. I can hear a plane, and the sound of its powerful engines many miles above us makes me realise just how quiet the rest of the world has become. The plane is moving with incredible speed. It must be a jet or something similar. I'm wary about making any sudden movements and looking to the sky but I can't help myself. Keeping my head as still as possible and just moving my eyes I search the heavens. And then I see it. A dark metal blur which races at a phenomenal velocity across the horizon from right to left. Even some of the soldiers have become distracted now.

Now there's a second noise. A belly-rumbling roar which I can feel through the ground beneath my feet. This noise comes from a different direction. It seems to swirl and drift in the wind before becoming louder and more definite. It's coming from behind us. I look up and watch as a single flash of light sears through the darkness miles above our heads, racing towards the jet in the distance. Was it another jet? A missile?

It can only last for a few seconds but the delay feels like forever. I watch the white light in the sky as it hurtles towards the jet and then crashes into it, taking it out with incredible, pin-point precision. For a second a huge ball of expanding orange flame hangs in the purple sky. It has all but disappeared by the time the thundering rumble of the explosion reaches us.

We shuffle forward again.

I'm another few meters closer to the building but, for once, what's waiting in there for me is not what I'm thinking about. Instead I'm trying to work out what I've just seen happen. Regardless of who was flying the plane and who launched the missile, that was a purposeful and very definite attack and it finally gives me a little glimmer of hope. Someone, somewhere is still fighting.

42

The fear and panic in this part of the queue has reached an unbearable level. We're still moving. A relentless on-off shuffle down towards the building in the field. The nervousness of the soldiers around us seems to have increased too.

Is this a slaughterhouse? Are we going to be neutered? Have they developed a 'cure' to make us like them again? Frightened thoughts rush through my mind at a thousand miles an hour as I get closer to the building. Whatever happens in there I know I've almost reached the inevitable end of my journey. The last day has been hell but I'd go through it all again to trade places with the person at the very back of this queue. I'd give anything to put off going through those dark doors in the near distance. Despite the fact that I'm surrounded by hundreds, probably thousands of people like me, I feel completely alone. Just a few days ago everything was relatively normal and all of this would have seemed impossible. A week ago today I was sitting in the pub with my family, oblivious to everything that was about to happen to us. I think about losing Liz and Harry and Ed and Josh and it's difficult to contain my emotions. I think about Ellis and I feel like I've been stabbed through the heart.

We move along the road like we're on a chain gang. All we're missing is the shackles around our feet. Over the constant dragging sound of hundreds of exhausted footsteps I think I can hear something. There's a noise in the distance. It's quiet and indistinct but it's definitely there. A deep, far-off rumbling. Is that thunder I can hear or something else? The rain continues to lash down all around me and the low light makes it all but impossible to see what's happening away from the building.

Progress is slow but I wish it were slower still. I'm already halfway down the track which runs from the front of the building to the road and now, for the first time, I'm close enough to see some of what's happening around the entrance. The track is packed solid with people who queue up behind some kind of heavily guarded canvas-covered checkpoint. It's hard to see any detail, but from here it looks like an immigration control desk or customs point at an airport. A steady stream of people are moving past the checkpoint and are being herded into the main part of the building. They look over their shoulders in desperation as more rifle-wielding soldiers push and shove them forward. I don't even want to think about what's in there. One thing is painfully obvious - there's no apparent way out. People are going in, but as far as I can see no-one's coming out.

There's now just a few short meters between where I'm standing and the checkpoint. Up ahead there's more panic and confusion as someone breaks from the queue and attempts to run. This time they're on their own. No-one else is running with them. The lone figure which sprints away in the direction of the towering silos to my left is brought down by a hail of bullets, far more than are necessary. And bizarrely, as soon as the body is on the ground more troopers scurry across the front of the building to collect it. Instead of leaving it where it fell they pick it up and, between them, carry it inside. What the hell are they doing?

There's another noise in the distance. It has to be thunder.

We move forward again and now I'm close enough to hear some of the conversation at the checkpoint. My heart is beating at a hundred times its normal rate and my legs feel like they're about to buckle and give way beneath me. This time it has nothing to do with my tiredness, this is sheer terror. I can feel the minutes of my life ticking away and I'm devastated that it's going to end this way. Maybe I can attack, I think to myself again. Can I summon up the energy for a final strike? Am I ready to die fighting? This is my very last chance. I can see Patrick just ten people or so ahead of me. If I could somehow get his attention then just maybe together we could do something… Who am I kidding? I look at the nearest soldier with his rifle poised and ready to fire and I know that the odds are too one-sided to even dare consider. It would be over before I'd been able to kill even one of them.

'Name?' one of the officers at the checkpoint yells at the next person in line.

'Jason Mansell,' the man replies, his voice quiet and resigned but still carrying the slightest hint of anger and resistance.

'Date of birth?'

He answers. He's also asked for his most recent address and, while he's answering, it finally dawns on me why these bastards are treating us like shit but are also strangely concerned about our bodies. We've been stripped of all individuality and yet they still want to know who we are and where we're from. The answer is obvious - it's a bloody census. They're carrying out a bloody census of us. If they want to completely control us and wipe us out, then they have to know where every last one of us is. That was why they attempted to identify us when we were first taken at the house this morning. That's why they collect the bodies of the dead. They have to know who it is they've killed to make sure we're all accounted for. I stupidly think about giving them false information when it's my turn but I know it won't do anybody any good. As I get closer I see that they're also taking swabs from people's mouths and they're using devices to scan their eyes and palms. Christ, we must be a hell of a threat to them. They're running scared.

Another rolling roar of thunder. Storm's getting closer now. Patrick has disappeared from view and there are now just four people left ahead of me in the line. We're moving with an uncomfortable speed. People are being processed at a frantic rate which seems crazy. We've been stood out here for hours. Why start rushing now?

Three people. Wish they'd slow down.

Two people.

Now I'm next. I stand a short distance back behind two soldiers and watch as Karin is processed. I watch helplessly as one of them slams her hand down flat onto some sort of scanner as another one holds her eye open and scans her retina with another device. A few key presses on a computer keyboard and she's finished and shoved towards the dark opening to the building. There are solid lines of guards on either side. It's clear that once you're past this checkpoint there's nowhere else to go but inside.

'Name?' the officer at the desk shouts as I'm pushed forward.

'Danny McCoyne,' I answer. I glance to my left and see that there's a rifle pointing at my head. Just do what you're told, I think to myself, just do what you're told.

'Short for Daniel?'

I nod.

'Answer!'

'Yes,' I mumble.

He asks my date of birth and my most recent address and I tell him. My right hand is then grabbed and scanned. Another trooper reaches up and with rough, clumsy fingers prises open my eyelid and uses the device on me. It has a bright light which I wasn't expecting. It blinds me temporarily.

'Send him through,' I hear the officer order and I'm pushed forward into the darkness. They're definitely speeding things up now. There are too many of us being sent through too quickly. I stumble and trip towards the back of a bottleneck which is quickly forming. Behind me I hear the next person being processed.

Less than ten meters now separates me from whatever fate is waiting inside this place. I still can't see anything from here, just a huge pair of dark doors and the steady stream of bodies which go through them. Like so many of the desperate people I've already watched I helplessly glance back over my shoulder. I can't see much but I know there are hundreds and hundreds of people behind me.

There's a sudden noise which takes everyone by surprise. It comes from two directions - from the back end of the queue and also from the other end of the road we were originally queuing along. Even the soldiers appear confused for a second. Many of the troopers surrounding me turn and look back across the field.

It's an attack.

Jesus Christ, someone's attacking from both sides.

In just a few seconds the scene degenerates from resigned calm and relative order into uncontrolled madness. I have no idea who is doing this, but I can see the bright headlights of cars and motorbikes and other random vehicles converging on this building from many directions. They're not just on the road now, I can see them driving across the fields from all around. Fucking hell, this is a coordinated attack.

I stop walking and try and turn back.

'Move you fucking scum,' a soldier screams at me and I'm hit hard in the middle of the back with something that knocks every scrap of breath out of my body. The force of the impact sends me tripping even deeper into the crowd being pushed through the open doors. I try to resist but I'm struggling to breathe and I can't do anything when more rough arms grab me from either side and throw me forward again. I'm inside now. There's a concrete floor beneath my feet and a high roof over my head which finally shields me from the rain. Behind me the sounds of gunshots and explosions ring out and are suddenly muted as the heavy doors I've just passed through are shut.

It's dark in here and I can hardly see anything. I'm continually pushed and shoved forward until I can't go any further, the mass of bodies in front of me preventing me from moving on. We're tightly packed and it's clear that they've shoved as many of us as they can in here to get us away from whatever it is that's happening outside. The crowd here is silent - unable to move and hardly able to breathe. I can hear a constant soundtrack of muffled shouts, screams and explosions coming from outside.

A sudden crackle of radio static and the soldiers guarding us move again. Up ahead another set of doors is opened, immediately releasing the pressure and allowing the crowd to flood forward into another huge room like water roaring through a suddenly breached dam. I don't want to move but, like everyone else, I have no choice. I know that the deeper I go into this building, the less chance I have of getting out again but there's nothing I can do. I'm carried along by the sheer weight and pressure of everyone else around me and we're all driven forward by the fear of the guns which are constantly aimed at us.

Space.

Unexpectedly I find myself in space and I'm able to move freely. I stop walking and spin around, desperate to try and get my bearings. The light levels in this room are unnervingly low and the people around me are terrified. They're screaming and shouting and yelling for help. I watch helplessly as the doors I've just come through are slammed shut and locked from the inside by more soldiers. These are wearing a different uniform than the others. They're wearing some kind of facemask. Is it a gasmask? It can't be, can it…?

Dead bodies.

My eyes are rapidly becoming accustomed to the low level of yellow light and I can see bodies. Jesus Christ, this room is full of them. They're everywhere - shoved up against the walls, piled up on top of each other around the edges of the room, laid out in lines on the floor… my worst suspicions and fears were right. This building is a slaughterhouse. They've brought us here to kill us. They're cataloguing us and destroying us.

I have to get out. I run back towards the closed doors but I'm kicked back into place by one of the masked guards. I've lost all self-control now and I have to fight. I know these soldiers are armed but I don't have any choice and I know I'm dead anyway. I pick myself up and run at the guard again with a speed, strength and determination I didn't know I possessed. I launch myself at him and knock him off his feet before he has time to react. I'm aware of other people starting to fight all around me as I wrestle away his weapon and rip off his mask. He looks up at me with cold, hateful eyes as I punch his face again and again, pounding his flesh with my fists. I continue long after I know he's lost consciousness. I can't stop until I'm sure he's dead…

There's a round of gunfire behind me. I spin around and see that one of the other soldiers has opened fire into the crowd. Many have already fallen, the rest of us try and run for cover but there's nowhere to hide. In desperation I grab the beaten body of the soldier beneath me and haul it round in front of me like a shield, hoping that it will take the force of any shots which come in my direction.

There are two soldiers firing now. One of them has climbed a metal ladder up onto a galley in the rafters of the building and is picking people out at will. Over the terrified confusion and carnage I can hear another sound now and I look up at the ceiling in terror. It's the chugging of machinery and the hissing of gas. Hanging in the four corners of the room are huge metal boxes with vented fronts which look like air conditioning units. The air in front of each one of the machines is distorted like a heat-haze and I know that it has begun. I throw the corpse off me and start to look around the floor for the mask I tore off its face seconds earlier. The floor in here is awash with blood and bodies and…

The world around me explodes.

I drop to the ground and cover my head as the entire far end of the room we're trapped in is ripped apart by a massive blast which sends shrapnel and dead flesh flying in every conceivable direction. Everything becomes black. The noise of the explosion begins to fade and is replaced by yells and screams of pain and fear and by the sounds of a full-scale conflict.

'Run!' a muffled voice yells over the madness and hysteria.

Instinct takes over. I clamber to my feet, tripping and stumbling over rubble and the remains of bodies, and then push my way forward through the clouds of dust and crowds of terrified figures. There is gunfire and confusion all around me. A woman immediately in front of me is shot. For a split second I see blood, flesh and bone explode from her shoulder and she falls to the ground like a limp rag doll. I can't do anything but run straight over her corpse. There's a tide of desperate people moving behind me and I can't stop, I have no option but to keep moving along with the wave of bodies. I look up and see that we're running towards more soldiers with their guns raised. But these soldiers aren't wearing masks. Their faces and eyes are unprotected and I know immediately that they're on our side. Thank God, these people are on our side.

Still we continue to stumble through the carnage, the ground beneath our feet becoming more uneven and littered with debris. The remains of people like me mix freely with the remains of enemy soldiers. In this grotesque bloodbath they are impossible to separate. No explosion can differentiate between us and them. All around me I can see severed arms and legs, shattered bones and twisted pieces of razor sharp metal.

'Keep moving,' another voice yells. I feel rain on my face and I realise that I'm outside again, although there are still low mounds of rubble on either side of me which used to be walls. Others have stopped but I keep moving. Another deafening noise distracts me and I look up to see a helicopter roaring low overhead. It unleashes a missile into a long line of trucks which stand idly alongside what's left of the now burning building I've just escaped from. Christ, this is a fucking full-scale war. I sprint across an area of uneven wasteland and throw myself to the ground as more munitions explode nearby. There's a brilliant flash of light to my left and I feel my body being shunted along the ground by the immense force of yet another blast. I'm deafened in one ear and I struggle to regain my balance as I pick myself up and try to move forward again. All around me are the bodies of those who have fallen. A young man's face has taken the full force of the explosion. His lifeless eyes stare up at me helplessly. The bottom of his face, everything below his top lip, has gone. At my feet is the body of a woman, face down in the rubble. Its back is blackened and charred and much of its clothing has been burned away. It could be Karin, the girl from the queue. For a fraction of a second I think about turning her over to see but I know that it's pointless. It doesn't matter.

In the sky directly above me a second helicopter swoops down and fires into the building I've just escaped from, killing scores of unprotected people who continue to pick their way through the rubble. I manage to take a few more staggering steps away before throwing myself back down again as the first helicopter turns and opens fire on the second. A precisely-placed missile hits the middle of its tail boom, taking the rotor clean off and sending the aircraft spiralling down to the ground where it explodes, filling the night with more fire. There is mayhem all around me now, the deafening noise and hysteria of an all-out battle to the death. But who is fighting?

'Get out of here,' a soldier yells, picking people like me up off the ground and pushing them on. I follow the crowd, heading towards an open gate in what's left of the chain-link fence which surrounded this place. Almost as one we run along a gravel track which snakes away into the darkness. Now that we're free we move like a pack, hunting together. The enemy here are few and far between. When we discover them we swarm over them and rip them apart. Behind me the burning building is bathed in light. I look back at it long enough to see hundreds of figures running away from it in every direction.

More soldiers usher us along a track which climbs up into the darkness as another helicopter swoops low overhead. Friend or foe? It's impossible to tell until it launches a volley of missiles into the crowds on the ground. As another ball of flame stretches high up into the sky behind me the sudden increase in light enables me to properly see my surroundings for the first time. The ground below us is littered with an incredible number of bodies. Many of them are victims of the battle now raging but it's clear from their location that many more corpses are those of people like me who have been executed by the others. Their cadavers have been stacked up, ready for disposal. Here alone hundreds of people have been killed. How many other places like this are there, and how many more would have died here tonight? How many of us have been murdered by these bastards, and who are the Haters now?

The top of this low hill now looms ahead of me. I dig in and keep running, my feet slipping and sliding in the greasy mud. I can hear more fighting up ahead and I run towards it, now desperate to be a part of the battle and wanting to take revenge for all the death and destruction I've seen. A few more breathless seconds and I've finally reached the top of the climb. Another huge explosion once again bathes the world in light and I can see a wave of enemy soldiers advancing towards us. Unprotected and without any fear of the consequences I sprint at them. I glance from side to side and see that there are hundreds of people like me moving forward as one. We must destroy them before they can destroy any more of us.

The first of the enemy I reach is firing into the crowd. She has her back to me. Without pausing for thought I leap up onto her back and wrap my arms around her neck. I grab her chin and the back of her head and twist as hard as I can, feeling massive satisfaction as her neck snaps and she crumbles to the ground. In seconds I'm up again, already looking for the next kill. One of them has their weapon aimed directly at me. Before they can fire I run straight at them and charge them down. I move with a speed and power I have never felt before and I feel alive. Faced with death I actually feel more alive! I wrestle the soldier's rifle from his pathetically weak grip and shove its barrel round and hard into his mouth. I fire and watch the top of his head explode into the mud. All around me this animal instinct is taking over and we are killing to keep ourselves alive. This is what I was born to do.

Now another. I rip off a trooper's battle helmet and turn the pathetic creature around to face me. Those eyes. Those fucking eyes glare at me and they are filled with utter hate. I push my thumbs into the sockets and gouge the damn things out, leaving the soldier screaming and writhing on the ground.

All of the confusion and uncertainty has gone. The pain has disappeared. Without fear we fight with unparalleled strength and ferocity. I snap bones and tear flesh and end lives again and again and again.

In the flashes of light and fire which still fill the skies all around here I am able to see the full extent of this battle. It now stretches across a huge expanse of land. It is brutal and relentless, basic and almost medieval. Weapons have been cast aside. This fight is hand-to-hand - one-on-one - and our enemy has no answer to our strength and determination. They may have numbers but we have more than that. We have the desire to destroy them and to protect ourselves and others like us. Every one of us will fight with the last breath in our bodies.

Another helicopter rises up in the sky in front of me. I look up and watch as four snaking trails of fire whip across the darkness over my head accompanied by an ear-piercing whistle and a sudden gust of red-hot air. I look back just long enough to see missiles strike the battered and now virtually empty remains of the building we escaped from. There is a momentary pause - like the shortest possible gap between lighting and thunder - followed by the loudest explosion I've yet heard as the hellish place is blasted into a million burning pieces. Even from this distance I can feel the heat of the fire on my skin.

A knife flashes at me from out of nowhere and slices my arm. The adrenaline disguises the pain I feel and I immediately turn on my attacker. He swipes his blade at me again. Somehow I am able to catch his hand midway through its arc. I twist his fist back in on itself and then force the knife round into his own gut. He falls next to the burning shell of an overturned vehicle. Where did I learn to do this? Where did this strength and speed come from? This is instinctive and unstoppable.

'Move out,' a voice screams, barely audible over the confusion. I look up and see that the battle on the hillside is petering out. Although the fighting around what remains of the building below us is continuing, up here on the ridge we have destroyed the enemy. 'Keep moving forward,' the voice instructs. I follow the rest of the crowd as we begin to scramble through the darkness.

43

It's late and out here the world is silent. The noise of battle has long since faded away to nothing. Still surrounded by hordes of others we move quickly through the empty countryside. Armed scouts guide us through the darkness. I don't know where we're going, but I know that I can trust these people and I follow on regardless. I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach which tells me that before long I might finally start getting answers to some of the thousands of questions I've been desperate to ask.

We've marched for more than an hour now and have seen and heard no-one else. Our route has avoided all roads and buildings and virtually all other signs of civilisation. Now we're moving along the base of a deep valley, shielded from view by trees and bushes.

We stop.

'In here,' one of our guides says, ushering us towards a large copse. Without question we move into the trees, stopping only when we've reached the densest part of the woods. The light in here is almost non-existent. One of the scouts kicks around in the undergrowth, seeming to be looking for something. Her foot strikes a small mound in the leaf-covered ground. She bends down and grabs the strap of a bag which one of them must have hidden there previously. She pulls the strap and drags up a large rucksack. Leaves and dirt fall from it as she stands it up and brushes it down. She opens the pack and starts to empty it out.

'Sit down and rest,' one of the other scouts says as his colleague throws packets of food and bottles of water to us. 'Get your strength back,' he continues, 'then listen to the message and leave.'

The message? What message? What's he talking about? I decide that I'll find out later. Right now eating my first food in more than a day is more important than anything else.

I'm sitting with three other people. In the middle of us is a mobile phone, set up ready to play the message. This message, our guides inform us, is as close to the truth as we'll get tonight. It has been distributed as a file by people like us and has spread around the country like a computer virus. It now sits on hundreds of thousands of phones, computers, media players and other devices, too widespread to be deleted.

'Chris who?' a man sitting next to me asks.

'Chris Ankin,' one of the guides replies.

'Who the hell's he?'

'He was a politician,' he explains. 'Used to be fairly high-ranking in Defence. He was an adviser to the government when it began. He got to hear a hell of a lot of information before he changed.'

'So where is he now?'

'Rumour has it he's dead.'

'Great.'

'Doesn't matter. He did what he wanted to do before they got him.'

'What was that?'

'He wanted to let us know what was happening. He wanted to warn us. He wanted to try and coordinate us.'

'Coordinate us?'

'Make sure we all know what we have to do.'

'And what's that?'

'Why don't you just play the fucking message?'

The man leans forward and picks up the phone. He struggles with the controls for a second but soon manages to locate the file and starts it playing. At first the words are hard to make out. He adjusts the volume and lifts up the phone so that we can all hear what's being said.

'If you're listening to this,' Ankin's weary voice says, sounding tinny and distorted, 'chances are you don't have a clue what's happened to you or what's happened to the rest of the country. You won't know why you feel the way you do or why your life has just been turned upside down. I'll give you some information but I won't be able to answer all of your questions. I'll tell you what I know but that's not what's important now. Ultimately it doesn't matter why this has happened or what caused it, what matters is how we deal with it. Because of the unprecedented nature of the change and its effects on our society we need to act now and we need to act quickly. There will be time enough to look for reasons when the fight is over.'

I shuffle on the ground and glance at the other faces gathered around the telephone. They stare at the small handset with bewildered expressions. I'm not sure if anyone believes what they're hearing.

'Put simply,' Ankin's voice continues, 'there is a fundamental genetic difference between us and them. A fundamental and basic difference which, until now, has remained dormant. I can't yet tell you why, but something has happened to trigger a change, and that change has created the hate. If you're hoping for me to give you a more scientific explanation, I can't. If you're waiting for me to explain why we can no longer exist alongside the people we loved, lived with and worked with just a couple of weeks ago, I can't. One day we'll understand, but today we don't have the luxury of having either the time or resources to find out.

'Initially it was presumed that the change was limited to just a small minority of people. Before it happened to me, while I was still in office, I saw figures which indicated that our numbers are much greater than was first thought. It's likely that as many as three people in every ten are like us. That's around thirty percent of the population. That's enough to take the fight to them and stand a chance.

'The change strips away some of the restraint we used to have. In very basic terms it makes us less susceptible to bullshit and more likely to take action. The change seems almost to amplify our instincts. We immediately know who is like us and we know who isn't. We know who poses a threat to us and who is on our side. Many of the layers of conditioning and control imposed upon us by society have been stripped away by the change and no longer apply. Now you fight when you need to fight and you destroy the enemy because you know that they will destroy you if you give them half a chance.

'Until now we've discriminated against each other according to race, religion, age, gender and just about every other differentiation imaginable. Look around you tonight and you'll see that those differences are gone. Now, to put things as simplistically as possible, there is just 'us' and 'them', and it is impossible for us to coexist. We have no alternative but to fight, and we must keep fighting until we have wiped them out.

'The change has spread across the world with an incredible speed. No corner of the planet has been left untouched. We are everywhere. You must remember that we are not the underdogs. Their advantage over us is in physical numbers only. We have served at every level and among us we have experts in every profession. Among us we have every skill imaginable. We have everything we need to fight them and destroy them.

'Forget your past. Forget your families and friends and who you used to be. In time some kind of normality will be restored. Until then we have no alternative but to fight.'

The message ends and I look at the phone in disbelief. Is this a joke? Can any of this really be true? For a moment I'm overloaded, unable to take it all in. Then my mind begins to fill with memories of the events of the last week and particularly of the last day - the killings, the battles, the bloodshed, the emotions - and I know that every word I've just heard is true. I remember the feelings of strength and power I felt as I killed the enemy soldiers with my hands just a few hours ago and I know that it's all real. Impossible and unproven but real.