Crabs On The Rampage (Crabs Series) by Guy N. Smith

Author:Guy N. Smith [Smith, Guy N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror
ISBN: 9781907846212
Publisher: Black Hill Books
Published: 2011-05-14T12:00:00+00:00

Sid Warrener leaned across and switched the television off, stared at the receding white dot until it had disappeared.

‘Don't fucking panic,’ he did a fairly good cockney mimic of the Prime Minister's voice. ‘Just sit where you bleedin' are until the crabs come. They'll be dead in a few weeks but in the meantime they're doin' a good job reducing the population explosion.’

‘What are we going to do, Sid?’ Diane Warrener pretended to knit furiously; she'd dropped a stitch but the cardigan intended for Kit, whom they hoped was asleep upstairs in his room, would probably never be finished anyway. She had to do something with her hands.

‘Well, we can't stop here, that's a certain bleedin' fact.’

‘We're a mile from the river.’

‘I don't care if we're ten bleedin' miles,’ his lean face portrayed all the stubbornness which had earned him the post of shop steward at the docks. ‘It ain't just the fuckin' crabs, it's every thin' they're doin' to the place. There ain't likely to be any work for weeks and, Christ, half the area's without power. The police are runnin' round in ever decreasing circles until they finally vanish up their own arses and that's when we get mob rule. Schools have closed down. ‘Stop at home,’ another mimic. ‘and you'll be all right. Too bad if you fuckin' aren't.’

Diane Warrener fell silent. At thirty-eight she was just beginning to feel that her life was slipping away from her. Lately she hadn't bothered with expensive hairdos and only put on make-up on special occasions. Sid didn't seem to notice, he was too wrapped up in his union work. But suddenly everything was taking second place to one primary factor - safety!

‘Where would we go?’ she laid her knitting down, despair in her voice. She didn't want to go anywhere; the East End was as good a place as any but if Sid said they were going somewhere then they would surely go. He was the boss.

‘Away from London,’ he was buttoning up his shirt. ‘The further the better. I'm going down to the phone box to give Alf a ring up in Warrington. He and Gert would put us up for a week or two.’

‘It's not fair really,’ Diane didn't like Sid's brother one little bit; nor Gert, they always pried into one's business with such obvious enthusiasm. ‘You can't expect people to put us up at a minute's notice.’

‘Alf and Gert won't mind,’ Sid Warrener was undeterred. He'd made his decision and that was that. ‘Start putting a few things in a suitcase, just essentials, not the kitchen sink. I'll pop out and phone.’

There were several people walking down the street as Sid let himself out of the garden gate. Probably turning out of the pubs, he thought, but they didn't usually hurry like that. They were walking fast, just a few muttered conversations as though they had a definite destination in mind.

Several minutes later Sid Warrener discovered where everybody had been heading. A queue, possibly twenty yards long, stretched back from the telephone kiosk on the junction of the next street.

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