Project Renova | Book 1 | Tipping Point by Tyler Terry

Author:Tyler, Terry [Tyler, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Pandemic | Survival
Published: 2017-08-05T06:00:00+00:00

We'd only got as far as the border of Norfolk and Lincolnshire when Lottie said she wanted sweets, if we saw anywhere.

"I need to go to the loo, too." She shifted about in her seat and muttered, "I mean, properly go to the loo, not the nip-behind-a-hedge sort."

We spotted a petrol station, shop and café coming up on the far left of the A17, with cars outside and a few people on the forecourt. For a moment I lost myself in a memory; as a child, Lottie loved petrol stations when we were on journeys, and pleaded for comics, Slush Puppies and any other rubbish I'd be too soft not to buy her.

I pulled in. We didn't need petrol. "You go to the loo and I'll get the sweets." In the shop, no electronic bell announced my entrance, but lights were on. Two armed soldiers waved me through.

There wasn't much on the shelves. A young Indian boy stood behind the counter, looking as on edge as I felt. Surely he couldn't want to be there? Was he still getting paid? If so, by whom?

There were a few other people in the shop. Two youngish men in hoodies buying cigarettes, on their way out as I walked in. A father with a little boy, trying to get him to choose sweets.

None of them had wristbands on.

"I want Haribo!" the lad whined. "These are all horrible ones!"

"There's no Haribo left," the dad said, more patiently than I would have. "Look, drumstick chews. You like them, don't you?" He caught my eye and gave me a nervous smile. "I did when I was a kid!"

"They're horrible and they stick in my teeth!"

I smiled back at the harassed father and picked up a few miscellaneous bags, cans of Dr Pepper for Lottie and Diet Coke for me, even though Dex nagged me about it containing aspartame which caused every illness known to man, apparently. Not Bat Fever, though.

And Dex wasn't there to complain.

I might see him soon, though. I didn't dare think about it.

Outside, the initial burst of morning sunlight was fading behind grey clouds. There was a strange light in the sky, pinky orange in places, dull. You know, like the world was about to end, or something. And I was standing in a half empty garage somewhere in Lincolnshire with gun-toting soldiers behind me.

I paid for the things I wanted; the boy flashed me a smile and gave me change out of a tin.

"Till not working anymore, then," I said, pointlessly.

"Nothing is working anymore, Madam!" he said, too brightly. The door opened and another group walked in. Loud, yobby blokes wanting cans of lager, and they didn't intend paying for them. I hurried out.

At first the scene by our car didn't register.

In the split second before Lottie said, "Do what he says, Mum. Give him the car keys. He's got a knife," I thought the man with his arm around my daughter's neck must be someone we knew, mucking about.

My body turned to jelly.

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