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Authors: Luke Smitherd
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taken his eyes off the screen either. I popped the can’s ring pull and took a swig. It was fucking Dr Pepper. It would have to do.
The tracker across the bottom of the screen changed, and now it showed a statement from the US. The Americans wanted to know what the UK’s next response was going to be to contain ‘this threat’, and offered their assistance and support, as well as echoing the UK government’s request for whichever individual or group was behind this to come forward and make themselves known. Pointless grandstanding from the Yanks, but it brought on that sinking feeling yet again; that sensation of somehow knowing that this was the beginning of something very big, and very bad. I started to glance around the store. I decided that I wasn’t going anywhere for a while, and, thirst now quenched, I wanted a proper goddamn drink.
As I looked on the shelf just above and to the left of the counter, where the harder stuff lay, I noticed the footage on the TV had changed. Presumably due to a temporary lack of action on the live feed, the news had switched to a quick recap montage of the story so far, presumably for people coming to it fresh. A lot of it was footage I had seen firsthand; grainy footage of the Stone Man walking through the transport museum (another fist of bitter resentment slammed into my guts) followed by shots of the aftermath of its journey through the post office depot and the car hire company. Then there were shots of other damage it had caused. That was when I nearly fainted all over again, and this time I would actually know the reason. Shock. My knees actually started to buckle, but I grabbed the counter to support myself, making the shop assistant jump again.
Given the rough direction that I knew the Stone Man to be taking, I’m amazed when I look back on it that I hadn’t even considered the possibility. I’m a pessimist at the best of times, and this was a worst-case scenario that even the average man in the street might have thought about, given all that was going on around him ... but it hadn’t even crossed my mind.
The TV was showing footage (clearly taken by a professional news crew this time) of another flattened apartment block. It was a far bigger one this time, many floors high. The destruction, according to the reporter, was total, due to bad dumb luck. The Stone Man had happened to not only strike the eastern wall, but continue directly along and through it, utterly removing any support for the eastern side of the building. It had taken twenty minutes to fall fully, and incredibly, the handful of people inside at the time (most of them elderly) had been evacuated during this period by fire crews, but the building itself was no more. The shot, taken from behind a line of police tape, showed the faint remaining haze of dust and plaster hanging in the air. The familiar betting shop was visible next door, and the edge of the Dominos outlet next to that was also just in shot.
That had been my apartment building. I was now homeless. It was not the last thing that the Stone Man’s arrival meant I would lose.
***
Chapter Two: A Kind Gesture and a Betrayal, A Very Different Kind of Broadcast, Andy Heads North, And Paul Shakes Hands
***
I remember the arsehole laughing. He actually laughed when I told him that had been my home. Unlucky mate! Son of a bitch. I was almost too shocked to say anything, but then he took down the bottle of Sambuca from the shelf and handed it to me, still chuckling, and said that it was on the house. I was still so shocked and confused, both by what I had seen and his reaction, that I dumbly took the bottle from him and staggered out of the shop without a word.
I stood in the street with the sun now nearly completely below the horizon, trying to work out both what was happening and where I was so that I could get back to where my building had been. I don’t know why I wanted to go back. I just did. Some kind of dumb hope that I
The tracker across the bottom of the screen changed, and now it showed a statement from the US. The Americans wanted to know what the UK’s next response was going to be to contain ‘this threat’, and offered their assistance and support, as well as echoing the UK government’s request for whichever individual or group was behind this to come forward and make themselves known. Pointless grandstanding from the Yanks, but it brought on that sinking feeling yet again; that sensation of somehow knowing that this was the beginning of something very big, and very bad. I started to glance around the store. I decided that I wasn’t going anywhere for a while, and, thirst now quenched, I wanted a proper goddamn drink.
As I looked on the shelf just above and to the left of the counter, where the harder stuff lay, I noticed the footage on the TV had changed. Presumably due to a temporary lack of action on the live feed, the news had switched to a quick recap montage of the story so far, presumably for people coming to it fresh. A lot of it was footage I had seen firsthand; grainy footage of the Stone Man walking through the transport museum (another fist of bitter resentment slammed into my guts) followed by shots of the aftermath of its journey through the post office depot and the car hire company. Then there were shots of other damage it had caused. That was when I nearly fainted all over again, and this time I would actually know the reason. Shock. My knees actually started to buckle, but I grabbed the counter to support myself, making the shop assistant jump again.
Given the rough direction that I knew the Stone Man to be taking, I’m amazed when I look back on it that I hadn’t even considered the possibility. I’m a pessimist at the best of times, and this was a worst-case scenario that even the average man in the street might have thought about, given all that was going on around him ... but it hadn’t even crossed my mind.
The TV was showing footage (clearly taken by a professional news crew this time) of another flattened apartment block. It was a far bigger one this time, many floors high. The destruction, according to the reporter, was total, due to bad dumb luck. The Stone Man had happened to not only strike the eastern wall, but continue directly along and through it, utterly removing any support for the eastern side of the building. It had taken twenty minutes to fall fully, and incredibly, the handful of people inside at the time (most of them elderly) had been evacuated during this period by fire crews, but the building itself was no more. The shot, taken from behind a line of police tape, showed the faint remaining haze of dust and plaster hanging in the air. The familiar betting shop was visible next door, and the edge of the Dominos outlet next to that was also just in shot.
That had been my apartment building. I was now homeless. It was not the last thing that the Stone Man’s arrival meant I would lose.
***
Chapter Two: A Kind Gesture and a Betrayal, A Very Different Kind of Broadcast, Andy Heads North, And Paul Shakes Hands
***
I remember the arsehole laughing. He actually laughed when I told him that had been my home. Unlucky mate! Son of a bitch. I was almost too shocked to say anything, but then he took down the bottle of Sambuca from the shelf and handed it to me, still chuckling, and said that it was on the house. I was still so shocked and confused, both by what I had seen and his reaction, that I dumbly took the bottle from him and staggered out of the shop without a word.
I stood in the street with the sun now nearly completely below the horizon, trying to work out both what was happening and where I was so that I could get back to where my building had been. I don’t know why I wanted to go back. I just did. Some kind of dumb hope that I
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