Read Online The Stone Man - A Science Fiction Thriller by Luke Smitherd - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Luke Smitherd
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might be able to salvage something from the utter wreckage maybe, or perhaps just a need to see it for myself so I knew that it was really gone. At this stage I wasn’t thinking about insurance or possessions. That would come shortly after. Right now I just wanted to get back.
In absolutely typical fashion, now that I no longer wanted to get hold of anyone in the media, I found that my phone’s network was suddenly stable again. All of the few local friends that I had lived in the suburbs of the city, and mostly behind the starting point of the Stone Man’s path, so they would be safe. My parents had both died some years back, so I didn’t have to worry about calling them. Perhaps some people would be concerned about me, given that they may have seen the ruin of my apartment building thanks to national TV, but at that time I didn’t give a shit. I just wanted to get back, and phone signal meant that I could use the GPS and map function on the device.
A quick check showed that I was almost an hour’s walk away from home. I was very tired, and it would soon be fully dark, but I figured that I had a bottle of booze and some music on my phone; the two combined would keep me nice and numb, so that I didn’t have to try to comprehend how much I’d lost in the space of just a few short hours. Plus, walking was easy to deal with. Pick the feet up, put them down. That would be something to focus on. It would do. I unscrewed the cap on the Sambuca, put my headphones in my ears and began to walk, slack faced and wide eyed.
The streets were fairly deserted now. Most people were presumably indoors, glued to their TVs to follow the Stone Man’s progress. Indeed, why should they not be? When had there ever been such a genuine marvel portrayed live on TV for all the world? A real-deal, miraculous, tangible thing of wonder not provided by CGI or puppetry, but by something far, far more magical; a mysterious, unknown creator. The only thing in this world more irresistible to human beings than greed is curiosity, and the need to know the answers. I was no different. I simply had concerns of a more practical nature to deal with at that point, as I staggered, rather tipsily, through the streets of Coventry. Passing cars, too, were few in number, both due to the TV attraction at home and the scare factor of the earlier traffic chaos. The city seemed to have a settled feel to it as the night fell; although there had been destruction and death on a scale not seen since the wartime bombings, and the fact that Coventry had been at the very heart of an event that held worldwide fascination, the initial impact of it was over. For those with still-standing homes, the aftermath could be dealt with and cleaned up tomorrow. The people wanted to rest. I knew the feeling. Every time thoughts tried to push in ( what about clothes? What about ID? What about the computer? What about the TV? What about ) I simply took another swig.
Eventually, I reached my street, lit only by streetlights now. I could see the police cars, and the floodlights, and the large crowd gathered around the police line. Even at a distance, I could hear the walkie-talkies buzzing back and forth as the tired rescue crews picked through the rubble. Ambulance crews dealt with the minor injuries of the people that had been waiting until the few critical cases had been shipped out to the hospital. As I drew closer, on unsteady feet, I began to actually realise the stupidity of what I was doing. Yes, I needed to see it, needed to see the ruin for myself, but on a practical basis, what the hell did I hope to achieve here? I could see enough even from the end of the street. My home was gone. I was lucky that it had been such a warm day; the way things were looking, I had no choice but to sleep in an alleyway that night, unless I could get hold of someone who’d put me up. My phone still had signal, so I stood at the back of the crowd of gawkers, swaying gently back and forth, as I
In absolutely typical fashion, now that I no longer wanted to get hold of anyone in the media, I found that my phone’s network was suddenly stable again. All of the few local friends that I had lived in the suburbs of the city, and mostly behind the starting point of the Stone Man’s path, so they would be safe. My parents had both died some years back, so I didn’t have to worry about calling them. Perhaps some people would be concerned about me, given that they may have seen the ruin of my apartment building thanks to national TV, but at that time I didn’t give a shit. I just wanted to get back, and phone signal meant that I could use the GPS and map function on the device.
A quick check showed that I was almost an hour’s walk away from home. I was very tired, and it would soon be fully dark, but I figured that I had a bottle of booze and some music on my phone; the two combined would keep me nice and numb, so that I didn’t have to try to comprehend how much I’d lost in the space of just a few short hours. Plus, walking was easy to deal with. Pick the feet up, put them down. That would be something to focus on. It would do. I unscrewed the cap on the Sambuca, put my headphones in my ears and began to walk, slack faced and wide eyed.
The streets were fairly deserted now. Most people were presumably indoors, glued to their TVs to follow the Stone Man’s progress. Indeed, why should they not be? When had there ever been such a genuine marvel portrayed live on TV for all the world? A real-deal, miraculous, tangible thing of wonder not provided by CGI or puppetry, but by something far, far more magical; a mysterious, unknown creator. The only thing in this world more irresistible to human beings than greed is curiosity, and the need to know the answers. I was no different. I simply had concerns of a more practical nature to deal with at that point, as I staggered, rather tipsily, through the streets of Coventry. Passing cars, too, were few in number, both due to the TV attraction at home and the scare factor of the earlier traffic chaos. The city seemed to have a settled feel to it as the night fell; although there had been destruction and death on a scale not seen since the wartime bombings, and the fact that Coventry had been at the very heart of an event that held worldwide fascination, the initial impact of it was over. For those with still-standing homes, the aftermath could be dealt with and cleaned up tomorrow. The people wanted to rest. I knew the feeling. Every time thoughts tried to push in ( what about clothes? What about ID? What about the computer? What about the TV? What about ) I simply took another swig.
Eventually, I reached my street, lit only by streetlights now. I could see the police cars, and the floodlights, and the large crowd gathered around the police line. Even at a distance, I could hear the walkie-talkies buzzing back and forth as the tired rescue crews picked through the rubble. Ambulance crews dealt with the minor injuries of the people that had been waiting until the few critical cases had been shipped out to the hospital. As I drew closer, on unsteady feet, I began to actually realise the stupidity of what I was doing. Yes, I needed to see it, needed to see the ruin for myself, but on a practical basis, what the hell did I hope to achieve here? I could see enough even from the end of the street. My home was gone. I was lucky that it had been such a warm day; the way things were looking, I had no choice but to sleep in an alleyway that night, unless I could get hold of someone who’d put me up. My phone still had signal, so I stood at the back of the crowd of gawkers, swaying gently back and forth, as I
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