Autumn | Page 7

were
strewn all around. The dirty grey pavements were littered with cold,
lifeless bodies and the only sound came from the biting autumn wind as
it ripped through the trees and chilled him to the bone. Other than the
corpses that were trapped in what was left of their cars there didn't
seem any immediately obvious reason for any of the deaths. The closest
body to Jeffries was that of an elderly woman. She had simply dropped
to the ground where she'd been standing. She still had the handle of her
shopping trolley gripped tightly in one of her gloved hands.
He thought about shouting out for help. He raised his hands up to his
mouth but then stopped. The world was so icily silent and he felt so
exposed and out of place that he didn't dare make a sound. In the back
of his mind was the very real fear that, if he was to call out, his voice
might draw attention to his location. Although there didn't seem to be
anyone else left to hear him, in his vulnerable and increasingly nervous
state he began to convince himself that making a noise might bring
whatever it was that had destroyed the rest of the population back to
destroy him. Paranoid perhaps, but what had happened was so illogical
and unexpected that he just wasn't prepared to take any chances.
Frustrated and afraid, he turned around and walked back towards the
car.

At the far end of the car park, hidden from view at first by overhanging
trees, stood the Whitchurch Community Hall. Named after a long
forgotten local dignitary it was a dull, dilapidated building which had
been built (and, it seemed, last maintained) in the late 1950's. Jeffries
cautiously walked up to the front of the hall and peered in through a
half-open door. Nervously he pushed the door fully open and took a
few tentative steps inside. This time he did call out, quietly and warily
at first, but there was no reply.
The cold and draughty building took only a minute or two to explore
because it consisted of only a few rooms, most of which led off a main
hall. There was a very basic kitchen, two storerooms (one at either end
of the building) and male and female toilets. At the far end of the main
hall was a second, much smaller hall, off which led the second
storeroom. This room had obviously been added as an extension to the
original building. Its paint work and decoration, although still faded
and peeling, was slightly less faded and peeling than that of the rest of
the rooms.
Other than two bodies in the main hall the building was empty. Jeffries
found it surprisingly easy to move the two corpses and to drag them
outside. In the hand of a grey-haired man who looked to have been in
his early sixties he found a bunch of keys which, he discovered, fitted
the building locks. This, he decided, must have been the caretaker. And
the equally grey-haired lady who had died next to him was probably a
prospective tenant, looking to hire the hall for a Women's Institute
meeting or something similar. He heaved the stiff and awkward bodies
through the doorway and placed them carefully in the undergrowth at
the side of the building.
It was while he was outside that he decided he would shelter in the hall
until morning. It seemed to be as safe a place as any in which to hide. It
was isolated and although not in the best of repair, it looked strong
enough and seemed warmer than the car. Jeffries decided that there
didn't seem to be any point in trying to get anywhere else. The only
place he wanted to be was back home, but that was a few hours drive
away. He quickly convinced himself that it would be safer to stay put

for now and then to try and get petrol in the morning. He'd siphon it
from one of the wrecked cars outside.
As the light began to fade he discovered that there was no electricity in
the hall. A quick run to the end of the car park revealed that it wasn't
just the hall that was without power. The entire city for as far as he
could see was rapidly darkening. Other than a few flickering fires he
couldn't see any light - not even a single street lamp - and as he
watched it seemed that the world around him was being steadily
consumed by the thick shroud of night.
Being a hire car, there was nothing to help inside Stuart's vehicle. He
cursed the irony of the situation - he kept a blanket, a shovel, a toolbox,
a first-aid kit and